'But if without them, I should do better—Mary, will you say nothing?'
'We had better not think of it,' said Mary, her eyes on the ground.
'Why? is it that I am too foolish, too unworthy?'
She made a great effort. 'Not that, Louis. Do not ask any more; it is better not; you have done as your father wished—now let us be as we were before.'
'My father will be very much disappointed,' said Louis, with chagrin.
'I will take care of your father,' said Mrs. Ponsonby, and as Mary took the moment for escaping, she proceeded to say some affectionate words of her own tender feeling towards Louis; to which he only replied by saying, sadly, and with some mortification, 'Never mind; I know it is quite right. I am not worthy of her.'
'That is not the point; but I do not think you understand your own feelings, or how far you were actuated by the wish to gratify your father.'
'I assure you,' cried Louis, 'you do not guess how I look up to Mary; her unfailing kindness, her entering into all my nonsense—her firm, sound judgment, that would keep me right—and all she did for me when I was laid up. Oh! why cannot you believe how dear she is to me?'
'How dear is just what I do believe; but still this is not enough.'
'Just what Aunt Kitty says,' said Louis, perplexed, yet amused at his own perplexity.