“Yes, my dear,” whimpered the poor woman.

“And won’t you be my mamma to the last;—­won’t you?” And she threw her arms round her step-mother’s neck and kissed her.  “I won’t go one way, and you another.  He doesn’t wish it.  It is quite different from that.  I don’t care a straw for Hampton Wick and Rufford; but I will never be separated from you and the girls and papa.  Say you will come, mamma.  I will not let you go till you say you will come.”  Of course she had her own way, and Mrs. Masters had to feel with a sore heart that she also must go out Ushanting.  She knew, that in spite of her domestic powers, she would be stricken dumb in the drawing-room at Bragton and was unhappy.

Mary had another scheme in which she was less fortunate.  She took it into her head that Larry Twentyman might possibly be induced to come to her wedding.  She had heard how he had ridden and gained honour for himself on the day that the hounds killed their fox at Norrington, and thought that perhaps her own message to him had induced him so far to return to his old habits.  And now she longed to ask him, for her sake, to be happy once again.  If any girl ever loved the man she was going to marry with all her heart, this girl loved Reginald Morton.  He had been to her, when her love was hopeless, so completely the master of her heart that she could not realise the possibility of affection for another.  But yet she was pervaded by a tenderness of feeling in regard to Larry which was love also, though love altogether of another kind.  She thought of him daily.  His future well-being was one of the cares of her life.  That her husband might be able to call him a friend was among her prayers.  Had anybody spoken ill of him in her presence she would have resented it hotly.  Had she been told that another girl had consented to be his wife, she would have thought that girl to be happy in her destiny.  When she heard that he was leading a wretched, moping, aimless life for her sake, her heart was sad within her.  It was necessary to the completion of her happiness that Larry should recover his tone of mind and be her friend.  “Reg,” she said, leaning on his arm out in the park, “I want you to do me a favour.”

“Watch and chain?”

“Don’t be an idiot.  You know I’ve got a watch and chain.”

“Some girls like two.  To have the wooden bridge pulled down and a stone one built.”

“If any one touched a morsel of that sacred timber he should be banished from Bragton for ever.  I want you to ask Mr. Twentyman to come to our wedding.”

“Who’s to do it?  Who’s to bell the cat?”

“You.”

“I would sooner fight a Saracen, or ride such a horse as killed that poor major.  Joking apart, I don’t see how it is to be done.  Why do you wish it?”

“Because I am so fond of him.”

“Oh;—­indeed!”

“If you’re a goose, I’ll hit you.  I am fond of him.  Next to you and my own people, and Lady Ushant, I like him best in all the world.”