Hope, papa is so unkind. He has
forbidden me to speak to him." Then, gravely, "That command comes
too late."
"I fear it does," said Hope. "I have long suspected something."
"Suspected?" said Mary, turning pale. "What?"
"That you and Walter Clifford--"
"Yes," said Mary, trembling inwardly, but commanding her face.
"Are--engaged."
Mary drew a long breath. "What makes you think so?" said she,
looking down.
"Well, there is a certain familiarity--no, that is too strong a word; but
there is more ease between you than there was. Ever since I came back
from Belgium I have seen that the preliminaries of courtship were over,
and you two looked on yourselves as one."
"Mr. Hope," said this good, arch girl, and left off panting, "you are
a terrible man. Papa is eyes and no eyes. You frighten me; but not
very much, for you would not watch me so closely if you did not love
me--a little."
"Not a little, Miss Bartley."
"Mary, please."
"Mary. I have seen you a sickly child; I have been anxious--who would
not? I have seen you grow in health and strength, and every virtue.
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