After a while she said, timidly, “Dear Mr. Hope, now I feel I can trust you with anything.”  Then she looked down in charming confusion.  “My reminiscences—­they are certainly a great mystery.  But I have another secret to confide to you, if I am permitted.”

“Is the consent of some other person necessary?”

“Not exactly necessary, Mr. Hope.”

“But advisable.”

Mary nodded her head.

“Then take your time,” said Hope.  He took out his watch, and said:  “I want to go to the mine.  My right-hand man reports that a ruffian has been caught lighting his pipe in the most dangerous part after due warning.  I must stop that game at once, or we shall have a fatal accident.  But I will be back in half an hour.  You can rest in my office if you are here first.  It is nice and cool.”

Hope hurried away on his errand, and Mary was still looking after him, when she heard horses’ feet, and up came Walter Clifford, escaped from his father.  He slipped off his horse directly at sight of Mary, and they came together like steel and magnet.

“Oh, Walter,” said Mary, “we are not so unfortunate as we were just now.  We have a powerful friend.  Where are you going in such hurry?”

“That is a good joke.  Why, did you not order me to the lakes?”

“Oh yes, for Julia’s bracelet.  I forgot all about that.”

“Very likely; but it is not my business to forget your orders.”

“Dear Walter!  But, dearest, things of more importance have happened since then.  We have been insulted.  Oh, how we have been insulted!”

“That we have,” said Walter.

“And nobody knows the truth.”

“Not yet.”

“And our secret oppresses me—­torments me—­degrades me.”

“Pray don’t say that.”

“Forgive me.  I can’t help saying it, I feel it so bitterly.  Now, dear, I will walk a little way with you, and tell you what I want you to do this very day; and you will be a darling, as you always are, and consent.”

Then Mary told how Mr. Hope had just shown her singular affection; next she reminded him of the high tone Mr. Hope had taken with her father in their hearing.  “Why,” said she, “there is some mysterious compact about me between papa and him.  I don’t think I shall ever have the courage to ask him about that compact, for then I must confess that I listened; but it is clear we can depend upon Mr. Hope, and trust him.  So now, dear, I want you to indulge your little wife, and let me take Mr. Hope into our confidence.”

To Mary’s surprise and disappointment, Walter’s countenance fell.

“I don’t know,” said he, after a pause.  “Unfortunately it’s not Mr. Bartley only that’s against us.”

“Well, but, dear,” said Mary, “the more people there are against us, the more we need one powerful friend and champion.  Now you know Mr. Hope is a man that everybody loves and respects, even your father.”