"Sister Agatha would have told you to make a rosary of it," said Madame de Frontignac; "but you pray without a rosary. It is all one," she added; "there will be a prayer for every shell, though you do not count them. But come, ma chère, get your bonnet, and let us go out on the beach."
That evening, before going to bed, Mrs. Scudder came into Mary's room. Her manner was grave and tender; her eyes had tears in them; and although her usual habits were not caressing, she came to Mary and put her arms around her and kissed her. It was an unusual manner, and Mary's gentle eyes seemed to ask the reason of it.
"My daughter," said her mother, "I have just had a long and very interesting talk with our dear good friend, the Doctor; ah, Mary, very few people know how good he is!"
"True, mother," said Mary, warmly; "he is the best, the noblest, and yet the humblest man in the world."
"You love him very much, do you not?" said her mother.
"Very dearly," said Mary.
"Mary, he has asked me, this evening, if you would be willing to be his wife."
"His wife, mother?" said Mary, in the tone of one confused with a new and strange thought.
"Yes, daughter; I have long seen that he was preparing to make you this proposal."
"You have, mother?"