The grave earnestness with which he spoke went to Mary’s heart, and the tears came into her eyes.  She felt it almost wrong to withstand a man of so much weight and worth; but she spoke steadily—­’This is very kind—­very kind indeed; but I do not feel as if it would be right.’

‘Will you not let me be the judge of what will satisfy me?’

’You cannot judge of my feelings, Mr. Ward.  You must believe me that, with all my esteem and gratitude, I do not yet feel as if I should be acting rightly by you or by any one else, under my present sentiments.’

‘You do not yet feel?’

Mary felt that the word was a mistake.  ’I do not think I ever shall,’ she added.

’You will not call it persecution, if I answer that perhaps I may make the venture once more,’ he said.  ’I shall live on that word ‘yet’ while I am at New York.  I will tease you no more now; but remember that, though I am too old to expect to be a young lady’s first choice, I never saw the woman whom I could love, or of whom I could feel so sure that she would bring a blessing with her; and I do believe that, if you would trust me, I could make you happy.  There!  I ask no answer.  I only shall think of my return next year, and not reckon on that.  I know you will tell me whatever is true.’  He pressed her hand, and would fain have smiled reassuringly.

He took leave much more kindly than Mary thought she deserved, and did not appear to be in low spirits.  She feared that ahe had raised unwarrantable hopes, but the truth was, that Mr. Ponsonby had privately assured him that, though she could not yet believe it, poor girl! the young man in England would be married before many months were over to old Dynevor’s niece.  There would be no more difficulty by the time he came back, for she liked him heartily already, and was a sensible girl.

So Mr. Ward departed, and Mary was relieved, although she missed his honest manly homage, and sound wise tone of thought, where she had so few to love or lean on.  She thought that she ought to try to put herself out of the way of her cousins at home as much as possible, and so she did not try to make time to write to Clara, and time did not come unsought, for her father’s health did not improve; and when they returned to Lima, he engrossed her care almost entirely, while his young wife continued her gaieties, and Mary had reason to think the saya y manto disguise was frequently donned; but it was so much the custom of ladies of the same degree, that Mary thought it neither desirable nor likely to be effectual to inform her father, and incite him to interfere.  She devoted herself to his comfort, and endeavoured to think as little as she heard of English cousins.