“Well, Mary,” said Walter, “to tell the truth, it is all Greek to me, except about the money.  I think I could give a guess where that came from.”

“There, now!” cried Mary; “that is so like you gentlemen.  Money—­money—­money!  Never mind the money part; leave that to take care of itself.  Can you explain what Mr. Hope said to papa about me?  Mr. Hope is a very superior man, and papa’s adviser in business.  But, after all, he is in papa’s employment.  Papa pays him.  Then how comes he to care more about my happiness than papa does—­and say so?”

“Why, you begged him to intercede.”

“Yes,” said Mary, “but not to threaten papa; not to say, ’If you are unkind to Mary, our compact is broken.’”

Then she pondered awhile; then she turned to Walter, and said: 

“What sort of compact is that?  A compact between a father and another gentleman that a father shall not be unkind to his own daughter?  Did you ever hear of such a thing?”

“I can’t say I ever did.”

“Did you ever hear tell of such a thing?”

“Well, now you put it to me, I don’t think I ever did.”

“And yet you could run off about money.  What’s money!  This compact is a great mystery.  It’s my business from this hour to fathom that mystery.  Please let me think.”

Mary’s face now began to show great power and intensity; her eyes seemed to veil themselves, and to turn down their glances inward.

Walter was struck with the intensity of that fair brow, those remarkable eyes, and that beautiful face; they seemed now to be all strung up to concert pitch.  He kept silent and looked at his wife with a certain reverence, for to tell the truth she had something of the Pythian priestess about her, when she concentrated her whole mind on any one thing in this remarkable manner.  At last the oracle spoke: 

“Mr. Hope has been deceiving me with some good intention.  He pretends to be subservient to papa, but he is the master.  How he comes to be master I don’t know, but so it is, Walter.  If it came to a battle royal, Mr. Hope would side, not with papa, but with me.”

“That’s important, if true,” said Walter, dryly.

“It’s true,” said Mary, “and it’s important.”  Then she turned suddenly round on him.  “How did you feel when you ran into that workshop, and we both crouched, and hid like criminals or slaves?”

“Well,” said Walter, hanging his head, “to tell the truth, I took a comic view of the business.”

“I can’t do that,” said Mary.  “I respect my husband, and can’t bear him to hide from the face of any mortal man; and I am proud of my own love, and indignant to think that I have condescended to hide it.”

“It is a shame,” said Walter, “and I hope we sha’n’t have to hide it much longer.  Oh, bother, how unfortunate! here’s my father.  What are we to do?”