as a penalty to drive her into his measures; but he could not so
propound it, and was wondering how to bring it in, when Mary relieved
him by beginning herself, and stating the grounds with such sensible,
unselfish, almost motherly care of Louis's happiness, that he was
more unwilling than ever to let him resign her, and was on the point
of begging her to re-consider, and let Louis wait for ever rather
than lose her. But he knew they ought not to be bound, under such
uncertainties, and his conviction was too strong to give way to
emotion. He thanked her, and praised her with unwonted agitation,
and regretted more than ever; and so they closed the conference by
deciding that, unless Mr. Ponsonby should be induced to relent by his
daughter's representations on her arrival, Mary and Louis must
consider themselves as mutually released.

That loophole--forlorn, most forlorn hope, as they knew it to be--was
an infinite solace to the young people, by sparing them a formal
parting, and permitting them still to feel that they belonged to each
other. If he began declaring that nothing would ever make him feel
disconnected with Mary, he was told that it was not time to think of
that, and they must not waste their time. And once Mary reminded him
how much worse it would be if they had been separated by a quarrel.
'Anger might give one spirits,' he said, smiling mournfully.

'At the time; but think what it would be not to be able to remember
happy times without remorse.'

'Then you do mean to recollect, Mary?'

'I trust to bring myself to remember rightly and wisely. I shall try
to set it for a reward for myself to cure me of repinings,' said