"Why not yet, dear?"
"Well, because—. It is very hard to explain. In the first place, because Mr. Tregear himself does not wish it."
"That is a very bad reason; the worst in the world."
"Of course you will say so. Of course everybody would say so. But when there is one person whom one loves better than all the rest, for whom one would be ready to die, to whom one is determined that everything shall be devoted, surely the wishes of a person so dear as that ought to have weight."
"Not in persuading you to do that which is acknowledged to be wrong."
"What wrong? I am going to do nothing wrong."
"The very concealment of your love is wrong, after that love has been not only given but declared. A girl's position in such matters is so delicate, especially that of such a girl as you!"
"I know all about that," said Lady Mary, with something almost approaching to scorn in her tone. "Of course I have to be—delicate. I don't quite know what the word means. I am not a bit ashamed of being in love with Mr. Tregear. He is a gentleman, highly educated, very clever, of an old family,—older, I believe, than papa's. And he is manly and handsome; just what a young man ought to be. Only he is not rich."
"If he be all that you say, ought you not to trust your papa? If he approve of it, he could give you money."
"Of course he must be told; but not now. He is nearly broken-hearted about dear mamma. He could not bring himself to care about anything of that kind at present. And then it is Mr. Tregear that should speak to him first."