To so much Frank consented after some further parley; namely, that he would proceed to London on the following Monday morning without again seeing Mary.  And in the meantime, she was waiting with sore heart for his answer to that letter that was lying, and was still to lie for so many hours, in the safe protection of Silverbridge postmistress.

It may seem strange; but, in truth, his mother’s eloquence had more effect on Frank than that of his father:  and yet, with his father he had always sympathized.  But his mother had been energetic; whereas, his father, if not lukewarm, had, at any rate, been timid.  ’I will ask no one,’ Frank had said in the strong determination of his heart; and yet the words were hardly out of his mouth before he bethought himself that he would talk the thing over with Harry Baker.  ‘Not,’ said he to himself, ’that I have any doubt:  I have no doubt; but I hate to have all the world against me.  My mother wishes me to ask Harry Baker.  Harry is a good fellow, and I will ask him.’  And with this resolve he betook himself to bed.

The following day was Sunday.  After breakfast Frank went with the family to church, as was usual; and there, as usual, he saw Mary in Dr Thorne’s pew.  She, as she looked at him, could not but wonder why he had not answered the letter which was still at Silverbridge; and he endeavoured to read into her face whether it was true, as his mother told him, that she was quite ready to give him up.  The prayers of both of them were disturbed, as is so often the case with the prayers of other anxious people.

There was a separate door opening from the Greshamsbury pew out into the Greshamsbury grounds, so that the family were not forced into unseemly community with the village multitude in going to and from their prayers; for the front door of the church led out into a road which had no connexion with the private path.  It was not unusual with Frank and his father to go round, after the service, to the chief entrance, so that they might speak to their neighbours, and get rid of some of the exclusiveness which was intended for them.  On this morning the squire did so; but Frank walked home with his mother and sisters, so that Mary saw no more of him.

I have said that he walked home with his mother and sisters; but he rather followed in their path.  He was not inclined to talk much, at least, not to them; and he continued asking himself the question—­whether it could be possible that he was wrong in remaining true to his promise?  Could it be that he owed more to his father and his mother, and what they chose to call his position, than he did to Mary?

After church, Mr Gazebee tried to get hold of him, for there was still much to be said, and many hints to be given, as to how Frank should speak, and, more especially, as to how to hold his tongue among the learned pundits in and about Chancery Lane.  ’You must be very wide awake with Messrs Slow and Bideawhile,’ said Mr Gazebee.  But Frank would not hearken to him just at that moment.  He was going to ride over to Harry Baker, so he put Mr Gazebee off till the half-hour before dinner,—­or else the half-hour after tea.