“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Easton, very guardedly, “she certainly gave me a fright when she came here.  She looked quite pale; but whether it was that she wanted a change—­but whatever it was, it couldn’t be very serious.  You shall judge for yourself.  Sister, go to Miss Mary’s room, and tell her.”

Mrs. Easton, in giving this instruction, frowned at her sister as much as to say, “Now don’t speak, but go.”

When she was gone, the next thing was to find out if the woman had made any foolish admission to Mr. Hope; so she waited for him.

She had not long to wait.

Hope said:  “I hardly expected to see you; your sister said you were from home.”

“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Easton, “we were not so far off, but we did come home a little sooner than we intended, and I am rare glad we did, for Miss Mary wouldn’t have missed you for all the views in the county.”

With that she made an excuse, and left him.  She found her sister in Mary’s room:  they were comparing notes.

“Now,” said she to Mrs. Gilbert, “you tell me every word you said to Mr. Hope about Miss Mary and me.”

“Well, I said you were not at home, and that is every word; he didn’t give me time to say any more for questioning of me about her health.”

“That’s lucky,” said Mrs. Easton, dryly.  “Thank Heaven, there’s no harm done; he sha’n’t see the carriage.”

“Dear me, nurse,” said Mary, “all this time I’m longing to see him.”

“Well, you shall see him, if you won’t own to having been a night from home.”

Mary promised, and went eagerly to Mr. Hope.  It did not come natural to her to be afraid of him, and she was impatient for the day to come when she might tell him the whole story.  The reception he gave her was not of a nature to discourage this feeling; his pale face—­for he had been very ill—­flushed at sight of her, his eyes poured affection upon her, and he held out both hands to her.  “This the pale girl they frightened me about!” said he.  “Why, you’re like the roses in July.”

“That’s partly with seeing of you, sir,” said Mrs. Easton, quietly following, “but we do take some credit to ourselves too; for Miss Mary was rather pale when she came here a week ago; but la, young folks want a change now and then.”

“Nurse,” said Mary, “I really was not well, and you have done wonders for me, and I hope you won’t think me ungrateful, but I must go home with Mr. Hope.”

Hope’s countenance flushed with delight, and Mrs. Easton saw in a moment that Mary’s affection was co-operating with her prudence.  “I thought that would be her first word, sir,” said she.  “Why, of course you will, miss.  There, don’t you take any trouble; we’ll pack up your things and put them in the dog-cart; but you must eat a morsel both of you before you go.  There’s a beautiful piece of beef in the pot, not oversalted, and some mealy potatoes and suet dumplings.  You sit down and have your chat, whilst Polly and I get everything ready for you.”