"What is impossible, Mary?"
"Why, for papa to change his mind. After he has once made a resolve he adheres to it, even when he has been convinced that he is in error."
"He considers that adherence to his resolve is a manly firmness of purpose," said her mother.
"Well, mamma, this firmness of purpose puzzles me sometimes, for a great writer has said that the man who changes an erroneous opinion after being convinced that it is wrong proves that he is wiser when he changes it than he was when he formed it."
"A little bit of philosophy, Mary," said her mother, smiling; "and so I suppose you consider the unless an impossibility?"
"Indeed I do, mamma, so we will not talk about it;" and rising hastily as if to strengthen her determination, she seated herself at the piano, and commenced practising a somewhat difficult sonato of Beethoven's.
The weeks passed away, and the morning of the 15th of July dawned in summer glory, giving a promise that for once St. Swithin would be propitious. There was a strange sense of happiness in Mary's heart as she entered the dining-room, and looked out upon the distant hills of Highgate and Harrow, which appeared almost transparent beneath the purple haze that rested upon them.
The source of Mary's happiness was a slight one, it is true, but it augured better things, and was therefore tinted with the rainbow hues of hope. She had driven her puny carriage to the station the evening before to meet her father, who, having encountered Mr. Drummond on the platform, invited him to take a seat in the carriage as far as the Limes.
The offer was accepted, and Mr. Drummond, quite unaware that he was touching on dangerous ground, remarked, as soon as the carriage started—
"What a narrow escape from death that young man, Arthur Franklyn, has had! but he is so much better to-day, that they are going to remove him to the Isle of Wight on Tuesday or Wednesday. I am heartily glad of it, for the sake of those poor motherless children."