"What a terrible calamity this is that has fallen on Mrs. Ord!" he exclaimed, seizing upon it as something to say.
"Two calamities," answered Mary.
"Yes indeed. Her husband dead, and her fortune gone! My father sent me here to inquire personally after her; to see her if possible. He and Colonel Ord were good friends."
"I do not think she can see you. She said that I was the only one friend who would have been admitted to her."
"I did not expect she would: but Sir Richard made me come. You know his way."
Mary slightly nodded assent. She raised her hand and gently pushed from her temple the braid of her thick brown hair; as though conscious of the whiteness of her face, she would fain cover it until the colour returned. Mr. Blake-Gordon, a very bad hand at deception at all times, suffered his feelings to get the better of conventionality now, and burst forth into truth.
"Oh, Mary! how like this is to the old days! To have you by me alone!--to be sitting once more together."
"Like unto them?" she returned sadly. "No. That can never be."
"Would to heaven it could!" he aspirated.
"A strange wish, that, to hear from you now."