Such cruelty was not unnaturally excused in her eyes by many circumstances which Beatrice did not fully understand.

Mary was quite ready to go hand in hand with Lady Arabella and the rest of the Greshamsbury fold in putting an end, if possible, to Frank's passion: she would give no one a right to accuse her of assisting to ruin the young heir; but she could hardly bring herself to admit that he was so very wrong--no, nor yet even so very cruel.
And then the squire came to see her, and this was a yet harder trial than the visit of Beatrice.

It was so difficult for her to speak to him that she could not but wish him away; and yet, had he not come, had he altogether neglected her, she would have felt it to be unkind.
She had ever been his pet, had always received kindness from him.
"I am sorry for all this, Mary; very sorry," said he, standing up, and holding both her hands in his.
"It can't be helped, sir," said she, smiling.
"I don't know," said he; "I don't know--it ought to be helped somehow--I am quite sure you have not been to blame." "No," said she, very quietly, as though the position was one quite a matter of course.

"I don't think I have been very much to blame.
There will be misfortunes sometimes when nobody is to blame." "I do not quite understand it all," said the squire; "but if Frank--" "Oh! we will not talk about him," said she, still laughing gently.
"You can understand, Mary, how dear he must be to me; but if--" "Mr Gresham, I would not for worlds be the cause of any unpleasantness between you and him." "But I cannot bear to think that we have banished you, Mary." "It cannot be helped.

Things will all come right in time." "But you will be so lonely here." "Oh! I shall get over all that.