“That he had taken a fancy to Leo. It would have been a happy day for me to have seen her with such a protector for life.”
“Yes,” said Mary softly. “He is a true gentleman at heart.”
“Why, Mary,” cried the curate enthusiastically, “he never takes a penny of any of the poor folk, and he works for them like a slave. The nights I’ve known him pass at a sick bedside. Well, thank God, we have such a man here.”
“Amen,” said Mary softly.
“There’s Leo,” said the curate, as she was seen to pass down one of the paths of the garden. “Mary, my child, if that could be brought about, it would be her saving, and make me a happy man.”
Mary rested her hands more firmly upon her brother’s shoulder, and turned to watch her sister; and, as she did so, her sweet, pensive face grew more grave and her brother’s was averted, so that he could not read its secret, neither did he hear the sigh that softly rose as her eyes were suffused with tears.