the loss of his society?"

"And Eleanor, John?" said the sister, looking timidly into her
brother's face.

"Eleanor, that is, Miss Harding, if she thinks fit,--that is, if
her father--or, rather, if she--or, indeed, he,--if they find it
necessary--but there is no necessity now to talk about Eleanor
Harding; but this I will say, that if she has the kind of spirit for
which I give her credit, she will not condemn me for doing what I
think to be a duty." And Bold consoled himself with the consolation
of a Roman.

Mary sat silent for a while, till at last her brother reminded her
that the notes must be answered, and she got up, and placed her desk
before her, took out her pen and paper, wrote on it slowly:


PAKENHAM VILLAS
Tuesday morning
MY DEAR ELEANOR,

I--


and then stopped, and looked at her brother.

"Well, Mary, why don't you write it?"

"Oh, John," said she, "dear John, pray think better of this."