When the matter was quite settled at Loring,—when Miss Marrable not only knew that the engagement had been surrendered on both sides, but that it had been so surrendered as to be incapable of being again patched up, she bethought herself of her promise to Mr. Gilmore. This did not take place for a fortnight after the farewell which was spoken in the last chapter,—at which time Walter Marrable was staying with his uncle, Sir Gregory, at Dunripple. Miss Marrable had undertaken that Mr. Gilmore should be informed as soon as the engagement was brought to an end, and had been told that this information should reach him through Mrs. Fenwick. When a fortnight had passed, Miss Marrable was aware that Mary had not herself written to her friend at Bullhampton; and though she felt herself to be shy of the subject, though she entertained a repugnance to make any communication based on a hope that Mary might after a while receive her old lover graciously,—for time must of course be needed before such grace could be accorded,—she did write a few lines to Mrs. Fenwick. She explained that Captain Marrable was to return to India, and that he was to go as a free man. Mary, she said, bore her burden well. Of course, it must be some time before the remembrance of her cousin would cease to be a burden to her; but she went about her heavy task with a good will,—so said Miss Marrable,—and would no doubt conquer her own unhappiness after a time by the strength of her personal character. Not a word was spoken of Mr. Gilmore, but Mrs. Fenwick understood it all. The letter, she knew well, was a message to Mr. Gilmore;—a message which it would be her duty to give as soon as possible, that he might extract from it such comfort as it would contain for him,—though it would be his duty not to act upon it for, at any rate, many months to come. “And it will be a comfort to him,” said her husband when he read Miss Marrable’s letter.

“Of all the men I know, he is the most constant,” said Mrs. Fenwick, “and best deserves that his constancy should be rewarded.”

“It is the man’s nature,” said the parson. “Of course, he will get her at last; and when he has got her, he will be quite contented with the manner in which he has won her. There’s nothing like going on with a thing. I believe I might be a bishop if I set my heart on it.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

“I am not sure that the beauty of the thing is so well-defined to me as is Mary Lowther’s to poor Harry. In perseverance and success of that kind the man’s mind should admit of no doubt. Harry is quite clear of this,—that in spite of Mary’s preference for her cousin, it would be the grandest thing in the world to him that she should marry him. The certainty of his condition will pull him through at last.”

Two days after this Mrs. Fenwick put Miss Marrable’s letter into Mr. Gilmore’s hand,—having perceived that it was specially written that it might be so treated. She kept it in her pocket till she should chance to see him, and at last handed it to him as she met him walking on his own grounds. “I have a letter from Loring,” she said.

“From Mary?”

“No;—from Mary’s aunt. I have it here, and I think you had better read it. To tell you the truth, Harry, I have been looking for you ever since I got it. Only you must not make too much of it.”

Then he read the letter. “What do you mean,” he asked, “by making too much of it?”

“You must not suppose that Mary is the same as before she saw this cousin of hers.”

“But she is the same.”

“Well;—yes, in body and in soul, no doubt. But such an experience leaves a mark which cannot be rubbed out quite at once.”

“You mean that I must wait before I ask her again.”

“Of course you must wait. The mark must be rubbed out first, you know.”

“I will wait; but as for the rubbing out of the mark, I take it that will be altogether beyond me. Do you think, Mrs. Fenwick, that no woman should ever, under any circumstances, marry one man when she loves another?”

She could not bring herself to tell him that in her opinion Mary Lowther would of all women be the least likely to do so. “That is one of those questions,” she said, “which it is almost impossible for a person to answer. In the first place, before answering it, we should have a clear definition of love.”

“You know what I mean well enough.”

“I do know what you mean, but I hardly do know how to answer you. If you went to Mary Lowther now, she would take it almost as an insult; and she would feel it in that light, because she is aware that you know of this story of her cousin.”

“Of course I shall not go to her at once.”

“She will never forget him altogether.”

“Such things cannot be forgotten,” said Gilmore.

“Nevertheless,” said Mrs. Fenwick, “it is probable that Mary will be married some day. These wounds get themselves cured as do others.”

“I shall never be cured of mine,” said he, laughing. “As for Mary, I hardly know what to think. I suppose girls do marry without caring very much for the men they take. One sees it every day; and then afterwards, they love their husbands. It isn’t very romantic, but it seems to me that it is so.”

“Don’t think of it too much, Harry,” said Mrs. Fenwick. “If you still are devoted to her—”

“Indeed I am.”

“Then wait awhile, and we will have her at Bullhampton again. You know at any rate what our wishes are.”

Everything had been very quiet at Bullhampton during the last three mo............