‘Beatrice,’ said Frank, rushing suddenly into his sister’s room, ’I want you to do me one especial favour.’  This was three or four days after he had spoken to Mary Thorne.  Since that time he had spoken to none of his family on the subject; but he was only postponing from day to day the task of telling his father.  He had now completed his round of visits to the kennel, master huntsman, and stables of the county hunt, and was at liberty to attend to his own affairs.  So he had decided on speaking to the squire that very day; but he first made his request to his sister.

‘I want you to do me one especial favour.’  The day for Beatrice’s marriage had now been fixed, and it was not to be very distant.  Mr Oriel had urged that their honeymoon trip would lose half its delights if they did not take advantage of the fine weather; and Beatrice had nothing to allege in answer.  The day had just been fixed, and when Frank ran into her room with his special request, she was not in a humour to refuse him anything.

‘If you wish me to be at your wedding, you must do it.’

’Wish you to be there!  You must be there, of course.  Oh, Frank! what do you mean?  I’ll do anything you ask; if it is not to go to the moon, or anything of that sort.’

Frank was too much in earnest to joke.  ’You must have Mary for one of your bridesmaids,’ he said.  ’Now, mind; there may be some difficulty, but you must insist on it.  I know what has been going on; but it is not to be borne that she should be excluded on such a day as that.  You that have been like sisters all your lives till a year ago.’

‘But, Frank—­’

’Now, Beatrice, don’t have any buts; say that you will do it, and it will be done:  I am sure Oriel will approve, and so will my father.’

‘But, Frank, you won’t hear me.’

‘Not if you make objections; I have set my heart on your doing it.’

‘But I had set my heart on the same thing.’

‘Well?’

’And I went to Mary on purpose; and told her just as you tell me now, that she must come.  I meant to make mamma understand that I could not be happy unless it were so; but Mary positively refused.’

‘Refused!  What did she say?’

’I could not tell you what she said; indeed, it would not be right if I could; but she positively declined.  She seemed to feel, that after all that had happened, she never could come to Greshamsbury again.’

‘Fiddlestick!’

’But, Frank, those are her feelings; and, to tell the truth, I could not combat them.  I know she is not happy; but time will cure that.  And, to tell you the truth, Frank—­’

‘It was before I came back that you asked her, was it not?’

‘Yes; just the day before you came, I think.’

‘Well, it’s altered now.  I have seen her since that.’

‘Have you Frank?’