"Your grateful, hopeful love, till death, WALTER."
Mary opened this letter with a beating heart. She read it with tears and smiles and utter amazement. She knew so little about the male character that this way of receiving a knockdown blow astonished and charmed her. She thought to herself, no wonder women look up to men. They will have their own way; they resist, of course. How sensible! We give in, right or wrong. What a comfort I have got a man to back me, and not a poor sorrowing, despairing, obeying thing like myself!
So she was comforted for the minute, and settled in her own mind that she would be good and obedient, and Walter should do all the fighting. But letters soon cease to satisfy the yearning hearts of lovers unnaturally separated. Walter and Mary lived so near each other, yet now they never met. Bartley took care of that. He told Mary she must not walk out without a maid or ride without a servant; and he gave them both special orders. He even obliged her with his own company, though that rather bored him.
Under this severe restraint Mary's health and spirits suffered, and she lost some of her beautiful color.
Walter's spirits were kept up only by anger. Julia Clifford saw he was in trouble, and asked him what was the matter.
"Oh, nothing that would interest you," said he, rather sullenly.
"Excuse me," said she. "I am always interested in the troubles of my friends, and you have been a good friend to me."
"It is very good of you to think so. Well, then, yes, I am unhappy. I am crossed in love."
"Is it that fair girl you introduced me to when out riding?"
"Yes."