"My darling, my child, my angel! What am I to tell you? I do think of all the young men I ever knew he is the nicest, and the sweetest, and the most thoroughly good and affectionate."
"Oh, mamma, do you?" said Mary, rushing at her mother and kissing her and embracing her.
"But if there were to be no regular engagement, and you were to let him have your heart,—and then things were to go wrong!"
Mary left the embracings, gave up the kissings, and seated herself on the sofa alone. In this way the morning was passed;—and when Mary was summoned to her father's study, the mother and daughter had not arrived between them at any decision.
"Well, my dear," said the Doctor, smiling, "what am I to say to the Earl?"
"Must you write to-day, papa?"
"I think so. His letter is one that should not be left longer unanswered. Were we to do so, he would only think that we didn't know what to say for ourselves."
"Would he, papa?"
"He would fancy that we are half-ashamed to accept what has been offered to us, and yet anxious to take it."
"I am not ashamed of anything."