"I am so glad," said William, "to see your sweet face again. I was down at Ravenshoe last week. How they love you there! An idea prevails among old and young that dear Cuthbert is to die, and that I am to marry you, and that we are to rule Ravenshoe triumphantly. It was useless to represent to them that Cuthbert would not die, and that you and I most certainly never would marry one another. My dearest Jane Evans was treated as a thing of nought. You were elected mistress of Ravenshoe unanimously."
"How is Jane?"
"Pining, poor dear, at her school. She don't like it."
"I should think not," said Mary. "Give my dear love to her. She will make you a good wife. How is Cuthbert?"
"Very well in health. No more signs of his heart complaint, which never existed. But he is peaking at getting no tidings from Charles. Ah, how he loved him! May I call you 'Mary'?"
"You must not dare to call me anything else. No tidings of him yet?"
"None. I feel sure he is gone to America. We will get him back, Mary. Never fear."
They talked till she was cheerful, and at last she said—
"William, you were always so well-mannered; but how—how—have you got to be so gentlemanly in so short a time?"
"By playing at it," said William, laughing. "The stud-groom at Ravenshoe used always to say I was too much of a gentleman for him. In twenty years' time I shall pass muster in a crowd. Good-night."