Frank stayed but three minutes in the house; gave another kiss to Lady Scatcherd, getting three in return, and thereby infinitely disgusting Sir Louis, shook hands, anything but warmly, with the young baronet, and just felt the warmth of Mary’s hand within his own.  He felt also the warmth of her eyes’ last glance, and rode home a happy man.

CHAPTER XXX

POST PRANDIAL

Frank rode home a happy man, cheering himself, as successful lovers do cheer themselves, with the brilliancy of his late exploit:  nor was it till he had turned the corner into the Greshamsbury stables that he began to reflect what he would do next.  It was all very well to have induced Mary to allow his three fingers to lie half a minute in her soft hand; the having done so might certainly be sufficient evidence that he had overcome one of the lions in his path; but it could hardly be said that all his difficulties were now smoothed.  How was he to make further progress?

To Mary, also, the same ideas no doubt occurred—­with many others.  But, then, it was not for Mary to make any progress in the matter.  To her at least belonged this passive comfort, that at present no act hostile to the De Courcy interest would be expected from her.  All that she could do would be to tell her uncle so much as it was fitting that he should know.  The doing this would doubtless be in some degree difficult; but it was not probable that there would be much difference, much of anything but loving anxiety for each other, between her and Dr Thorne.  One other thing, indeed, she must do; Frank must be made to understand what her birth had been.  ‘This,’ she said to herself, ’will give him an opportunity of retracting what he has done should he choose to avail himself of it.  It is well he should have such opportunity.’

But Frank had more than this to do.  He had told Beatrice that he would make no secret of his love, and he fully resolved to be as good as his word.  To his father he owed an unreserved confidence; and he was fully minded to give it.  It was, he knew, altogether out of the question that he should at once marry a portionless girl without his father’s consent; probably out of the question that he should do so even with it.  But he would, at any rate, tell his father, and then decide as to what should be done next.  So resolving, he put his black horse into the stable and went into dinner.  After dinner he and his father would be alone.

Yes; after dinner he and his father would be alone.  He dressed himself hurriedly, for the dinner-bell was almost on the stroke as he entered the house.  He said this to himself once and again; but when the meats and the puddings, and then the cheese were borne away, as the decanters were placed before his father, and Lady Arabella sipped her one glass of claret, and his sisters ate their portion of strawberries, his pressing anxiety for the coming interview began to wax somewhat dull.