Mary Lester was seated by the side of her interested friend when the young man entered.  Her heart gave a quick bound as she saw him come in, while a pleasant thrill pervaded her bosom.  He at once advanced toward them, while Mrs. Martindale rose, and after receiving him with her blandest manner, presented him to Mary, so as to give him an opportunity for being in her society at once.  Both were, as might very naturally be supposed, a good deal embarrassed, for each was conscious that now a new relation existed between them.  This their very kind friend observed, and with much tact introduced subjects of conversation, until she had paved the way, for a freer intercourse, and then she left them alone for a brief period, not, however, without carefully observing them, to see how they “got along together,” as she mentally expressed it.

She had little cause for further concern on this account, for Fenwick had a smooth and ready tongue in his head, and five years behind the counter of a retail dealer had taught him how to use it.  Instead of finding it necessary to prompt them, the wily Mrs. Martindale soon discovered that her kind offices were needed to restrain them a little, lest the evidence of their being too well pleased with each other should be discovered by the company.

Two or three interviews more were all that were needed to bring about a declaration from the young man.  Previous to his taking this step, however, Mrs. Martindale had fully prepared Mary’s mind for it.

“You own to me, Mary,” said she, during one of the many conversations now held with her on the subject of Fenwick’s attentions, “that you love him?”

“I do, Mrs. Martindale,” the young lady replied, in a tone half sad, leaning at the same time upon the shoulder of her friend.  “But I am conscious that I have been wrong in permitting my affections to become so much interested without having consulted my mother.”

“It will never do for you to consult her now, Mary, for she does not know Mr. Fenwick as you and I know him.  She will judge of him, as will your father, from appearances, and forbid you to keep his company.”

“I am sure that such will be the case, and you cannot tell how it troubles me.  From childhood up I have been taught to confide in them, and, except in this thing, have never once deceived them.  The idea of doing so now, is one that gives me constant pain.  I feel that I have not acted wisely in this matter.”

“Nonsense, Mary!  Parents never think with their children in these matters.  It would make no odds whom you happened to love, they would most certainly oppose you.  I never yet knew a young lady whose parents fully approved her choice of a husband.”

“I feel very certain that mine will not approve my choice; and I cannot bear the idea of their displeasure.  Sometimes I feel half determined to tell them all, let the consequences be what they may.”

“Oh no, no, Mary! not for the world.  They would no doubt take steps to prevent your again meeting each other.”