left him at the bridge.  She had much to think of before she could resolve how she should tell her tidings.  Should she show the letter first to her stepmother or to her father?  In the ordinary course of things in that house the former course would be expected.  It was Mrs. Masters who managed everything affecting the family.  It was she who gave permission or denied permission for every indulgence.  She was generally fair to the three girls, taking special pride to herself for doing her duty by her stepdaughter;—­but on this very account she was the more likely to be angry if Mary passed her by on such an occasion as this and went to her father.  But should her stepmother have once refused her permission, then the matter would have been decided against her.  It would be quite useless to appeal from her stepmother to her father; nor would such an appeal come within the scope of her own principles.  The Mortons, and especially Lady Ushant, had been her father’s friends in old days and she thought that perhaps she might prevail in this case if she could speak to her father first.  She knew well what would be the great, or rather the real objection.  Her mother would not wish that she should be removed so long from Larry Twentyman.  There might be difficulties about her clothes, but her father, she knew would be kind to her.

At last she made up her mind that she would ask her father.  He was always at his office-desk for half an hour in the morning, before the clerks had come, and on the following day, a minute or two after he had taken his seat, she knocked at the door.  He was busy reading a letter from Lord Rufford’s man of business, asking him certain questions about Goarly and almost employing him to get up the case on Lord Rufford’s behalf.  There was a certain triumph to him in this.  It was not by his means that tidings had reached Lord Rufford of his refusal to undertake Goarly’s case.  But Runciman, who was often allowed by his lordship to say a few words to him in the hunting-field, had mentioned the circumstance.  “A man like Mr. Masters is better without such a blackguard as that,” the Lord had said.  Then Runciman had replied, “No doubt, my Lord; no doubt.  But Dillsborough is a poor place, and business is business, my Lord.”  Then Lord Rufford had remembered it, and the letter which the attorney was somewhat triumphantly reading had been the consequence.

“Is that you, Mary?  What can I do for you, my love?”

“Papa, I want you to read this.”  Then Mr. Masters read the letter.  “I should so like to go.”

“Should you, my dear?”

“Oh yes!  Lady Ushant has been so kind to me, all my life!  And I do so love her!”

“What does mamma say?”

“I haven’t asked mamma.”

“Is there any reason why you shouldn’t go?”

Of that one reason,—­as to Larry Twentyman,—­of course she would say nothing.  She must leave him to discuss that with her mother.  “I should want some clothes, papa; a dress, and some boots, and a new hat, and there would be money for the journey and a few other things.”  The attorney winced, but at the same time remembered that something was due to his eldest child in the way of garments and relaxation.  “I never like to be an expense, papa.”