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 “Your mind is quite settled, then, Mary?” said Caleb, returning to his first tone. “There’s no other wish come into it since things have been going on as they have been of late?” (Caleb meant a great deal in that vague phrase;) “because, better late than never. A woman must not force her heart—she’ll do a man no good by that.”

“My feelings have not changed, father,” said Mary, calmly. “I shall be constant to Fred as long as he is constant to me. I don’t think either of us could spare the other, or like any one else better, however much we might admire them. It would make too great a difference to us—like seeing all the old places altered, and changing the name for everything. We must wait for each other a long while; but Fred knows that.”

Instead of speaking immediately, Caleb stood still and screwed his stick on the grassy walk. Then he said, with emotion in his voice, “Well, I've got a bit of news. What do you think of Fred going to live at Stone Court, and managing the land there?”

“How can that ever be, father?” said Mary, wonderingly.

“He would manage it for his aunt Bulstrode. The poor woman has been to me begging and praying. She wants to do the lad good, and it might be a fine thing for him. With saving, he might gradually buy the stock, and he has a turn for farming.”

“Oh Fred would be so happy? It is too good to believe.”

“Ah, but mind you,” said Caleb, turning his head warningly, “I must take it on my shoulders, and be responsible, and see after everything; and that will grieve your mother a bit, though she mayn’t say so. Fred had need be careful.”

“Perhaps it is too much, father,” said Mary, checked in her joy. “There would be no happiness in bringing you any fresh trouble.”

“Nay, nay; work is my delight, child, when it doesn’t vex your mother. And then, if you and Fred get married,” here Caleb’s voice shook just perceptibly, “he’ll be steady and saving; and you've got your mother’s cleverness, and mine too, in a woman’s sort of way; and you’ll keep him in order. He’ll be coming by-and-by, so I wanted to tell you first, because I think you’d like to tell him by yourselves. After that, I could talk it well over with him, and we could go into business and the nature of things.”

“Oh, you dear good father!” cried Mary, putting her hands round her father's neck, while he bent his head placidly, willing to be caressed. “I wonder if any other girl thinks her father the best man in the world!”

“Nonsense, child; you’ll think your husband better.”

“Impossible,” said Mary, relapsing into her usual tone; “husbands are an inferior class of men, who require keeping in order.”

When they were entering the house with Letty, who had run to join them, Mary saw Fred at the orchard-gate, and went to meet him.

“What fine clothes you wear, you extravagant youth!” said Mary, as Fred stood still and raised his hat to her with playful formality. “You are not learning economy.”