Then, when she knew at last that this rumour was false, when she found that she was banished from Greshamsbury for his sake, when she was forced to retreat with her friend Patience, how could she but love him, in that he was not mercenary?
How could she not love him in that he was so faithful?
It was impossible that she should not love him.

Was he not the brightest and the best of men that she had ever seen, or was like to see ?--that she could possibly ever see, she would have said to herself, could she have brought herself to own the truth?
And then, when she heard how true he was, how he persisted against father, mother, and sisters, how could it be that that should not be a merit in her eyes which was so great a fault in theirs?
When Beatrice, with would-be solemn face, but with eyes beaming with feminine affection, would gravely talk of Frank's tender love as a terrible misfortune, as a misfortune to them all, to Mary herself as well as others, how could Mary do other than love him?
"Beatrice is his sister," she would say within her own mind, "otherwise she would never talk like this; were she not his sister, she could not but know the value of such love as this." Ah! yes; Mary did love him; love him with all the strength of her heart; and the strength of her heart was very great.
And now by degrees, in those lonely donkey-rides at Boxall Hill, in those solitary walks, she was beginning to own to herself the truth.
And now that she did own it, what should be her course?
What should she do, how should she act if this loved one persevered in his love?
And, ah! what should she do, how should she act if he did not persevere?
Could it be that there should be happiness in store for her?
Was it not too clear that, let the matter go how it would, there was no happiness in store for her?
Much as she might love Frank Gresham, she could never consent to be his wife unless the squire would smile on her as his daughter-in-law.

The squire had been all that was kind, all that was affectionate.

And then, too, Lady Arabella! As she thought of the Lady Arabella a sterner form of thought came across her brow.

Why should Lady Arabella rob her of her heart's joy?
What was Lady Arabella that she, Mary Thorne, need quail before her?
Had Lady Arabella stood only in her way, Lady Arabella, flanked by the de Courcy legion, Mary felt that she could have demanded Frank's hand as her own before them all without a blush of shame or a moment's hesitation.