On a sudden he stood still, and pulling the donkey’s rein, caused him to stand still also.  The beast required very little persuasion to be so guided, and obligingly remained meekly passive.

‘Mary, Mary!’ said Frank, throwing his arms round her knees as she sat upon her steed, and pressing his face against her body.  ’Mary, you were always honest; be honest now.  I love you with all my heart.  Will you be my wife?’

But still Mary said not a word.  She no longer bit her lips; she was beyond that, and was now using all her efforts to prevent her tears from falling absolutely on her lover’s face.  She said nothing.  She could no more rebuke him now and send him from her than she could encourage him.  She could only sit there shaking and crying and wishing she was on the ground.  Frank, on the whole, rather liked the donkey.  It enabled him to approach somewhat nearer to an embrace than he might have found practicable had they both been on their feet.  The donkey himself was quite at his ease, and looked as though he was approvingly conscious of what was going on behind his ears.

’I have a right to a word, Mary; say, “Go”, and I will leave you at once.’

But Mary did not say ‘Go’.  Perhaps she would have done so had she been able; but just at present she could say nothing.  This came from her having failed to make up her mind in due time as to what course it would best become her to follow.

’One word, Mary; one little word.  There, if you will not speak, here is my hand.  If you will have it, let it lie in yours;—­if not, push it away.’  So saying, he managed to get the end of his fingers on to her palm, and there it remained unrepulsed.  ‘La jeuness’ was beginning to get a lesson; experience when duly sought after sometimes comes early in life.

In truth Mary had not strength to push the fingers away.  ’My love, my own, my own!’ said Frank, presuming on this very negative sign of acquiescence.  ‘My life, my own, my own Mary!’ and then the hand was caught hold of and was at his lips before an effort could be made to save it from such treatment.

‘Mary, look at me; say one word to me.’

There was a deep sigh, and then came the one word—­’Oh, Frank!’

‘Mr Gresham, I hope I have the honour of seeing you quite well,’ said a voice close to his ear.  ’I beg to say that you are welcome to Boxall Hill.’  Frank turned round and instantly found himself shaking hands with Sir Louis Scatcherd.

How Mary got over her confusion Frank never saw, for he had enough to do to get over his own.  He involuntarily deserted Mary and began talking very fast to Sir Louis.  Sir Louis did not once look at Miss Thorne, but walked back towards the house with Mr Gresham, sulky enough in temper, but still making some effort to do the fine gentleman.  Mary, glad to be left alone, merely occupied herself with sitting on the donkey; and the donkey, when he found that the two gentlemen went towards the house, for company’s sake and for his stable’s sake, followed after them.