Cousin Sarah, although at first surprised at the appearance of the young clergyman on his way to the farm, had no such perplexing doubts. She recalled her conversation with Mr. Armstrong, and therefore readily accounted for this visit. "Mr. Halford can only have been sent for one purpose," she said to herself, "and I must contrive an opportunity for him to deliver his message to Mary before we meet at the tea-table; until that is done the young people will not be at ease in each other's society." Full of this determination, she hastily removed her walking dress and descended the stairs; yet with all her quickness Henry Halford had found his way down before her, and now stood looking out over garden and orchard to the distant prospect from the garden entrance.
He turned quickly at the sound of footsteps, and as Mrs. John Armstrong advanced he said—
"This is truly a country landscape, Mrs. Armstrong, and your gardens and orchards promise great things from their present appearance."
"Are you too tired to walk through the garden?" she asked. "Our spring flowers are in great profusion this year."
"No, indeed," he replied, "it will be a pleasure to do so."
But as they passed down the steps cousin Sarah saw him cast a hasty glance behind him, as if hoping for and expecting another companion.
She opened the gate for him to pass through, and then said—
"Will you excuse me one moment, Mr. Halford? I can soon overtake you if you walk on slowly." The next moment he was alone. Hastily returning to the house, she ascended the stairs to Mary's bedroom. Her knock brought Mary to the door.
"My dear," she said, "Mr. Halford is in the garden alone, pray do not allow him to feel himself neglected; will you join him while I tell cousin John and the boys that he is here, and get the tea ready."
"Certainly I will, cousin Sarah," she replied, with a slight blush as she followed her cousin downstairs, feeling ill-concealed agitation at the prospect of being informed of her father's message. On entering the garden she saw the tall, manly figure, slowly pacing the centre path in front of her, as if in deep thought; yet the usually self-possessed Mary Armstrong had not the courage to hasten her steps.