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Rh what I said to you. For my sake, for your father's, for your own, pray think of it!'

That was all, but it was enough to make her word to Beatrice true. She did send it to Frank enclosed in a letter from herself. We must reserve to the next chapter what had taken place between Frank and his mother; but, for the present, we will return to the doctor's house.

Mary said not a word to him about the letter; but, keeping silent on the subject, she felt wretchedly estranged from him. 'Is anything the matter, Mary?' he said to her on the Sunday afternoon.

'No, uncle,' she answered, turning away her head to hide her tears.

'Ah, but there is something; what is it, dearest?'

'Nothing—that is, nothing that one can talk about.'

'What, Mary! Be unhappy and not talk about it to me? That's something new, is it not?'

'One has presentiments sometimes, and is unhappy without knowing why. Besides, you know'

'I know! What do I know? Do I know anything that will make my pet happier?' and he took her in his arms as they sat together on the sofa. Her tears were now falling fast, and she no longer made an effort to hide them. 'Speak to me, Mary; this is more than a presentiment. What is it?'

'Oh, uncle'

'Come, love, speak to me; tell me why you are grieving.'

'Oh, uncle, why have you not spoken to me? Why have you not told me what to do? Why have you not advised me? Why are you always so silent?'

'Silent about what?'

'You know, uncle, you know; silent about him; silent about Frank!'

Why, indeed? What was he to say to this? It was true that he had never counselled her; never shown her what course she should take; had never even spoken to her about her lover. And it was equally true that he was not now prepared to do so, even in answer to such an appeal as this. He had a hope, a strong hope, more than a hope, that Mary's love would yet be happy; but he could not express or explain his hope; nor could he even acknowledge to himself a wish that would seem to be based on the death of him whose life he was bound, if possible, to preserve.

'My love,' he said, 'it is a matter in which you must judge for yourself. Did I doubt your conduct, I should interfere; but I do not.'