to give; she had nothing but herself.  He had name, and old repute, family, honour, and what eventually would at least be wealth to her.  She was nameless, fameless, portionless.  He had come there with all his ardour, with the impulse of his character, and asked her for her love.  It was already his own.  He had then demanded her troth, and she acknowledged that he had a right to demand it.  She would be his if ever it should be in his power to take her.

But there let the bargain end.  She would always remember, that though it was in her power to keep her pledge, it might too probably not be in his power to keep his.  That doctrine, laid down so imperatively by the great authorities of Greshamsbury, that edict, which demanded that Frank should marry money, had come home also to her with a certain force.  It would be sad that the fame of Greshamsbury should perish, and that the glory should depart from the old house.  It might be, that Frank also should perceive that he must marry money.  It would be a pity that he had not seen it sooner; but she, at any rate, would not complain.

And so she stood, leaning on the open window, with her book unnoticed lying beside her.  The sun had been in the mid-sky when Frank had left her, but its rays were beginning to stream into the room from the west before she moved from her position.  Her first thought in the morning had been this:  Would he come to see her?  Her last now was more soothing to her, less full of absolute fear:  Would it be right that he should come again?

The first sounds she heard were the footsteps of her uncle, as he came up to the drawing-room, three steps at a time.  His step was always heavy; but when he was disturbed in spirit, it was slow; when merely fatigued in body by ordinary work, it was quick.

‘What a broiling day!’ he said, and he threw himself into a chair.  ’For mercy’s sake, give me something to drink.’  Now the doctor was a great man for summer-drinks.  In his house, lemonade, currant-juice, orange-mixtures, and raspberry-vinegar were used by the quart.  He frequently disapproved of these things for his patients, as being apt to disarrange the digestion; but he consumed enough himself to throw a large family into such difficulties.

‘Ha—­a!’ he ejaculated after a draught; ’I’m better now.  Well, what’s the news?’

‘You’ve been out, uncle; you ought to have the news.  How’s Mrs Green?’

‘Really as bad as ennui and solitude can make her.’

‘And Mrs Oaklerath?’

’She’s getting better, because she has ten children to look after, and twins to suckle.  What has he been doing?’ And the doctor pointed towards the room occupied by Sir Louis.

Mary’s conscience struck her that she had not even asked.  She had hardly remembered, during the whole day, that the baronet was in the house.  ‘I do not think he has been doing much,’ she said.  ’Janet has been with him all day.’