Frank and Mary had been so much together in his holidays, had so constantly consorted together as boys and girls, that, as regarded her, he had not that innate fear of a woman which represses a young man's tongue; and she was so used to his good-humour, his fun, and high jovial spirits, and was, withal, so fond of them and him, that it was very difficult for her to mark with accurate feeling, and stop with reserved brow, the shade of change from a boy's liking to a man's love.
And Beatrice, too, had done harm in this matter.

With a spirit painfully unequal to that of her grand relatives, she had quizzed Mary and Frank about their early flirtations.

This she had done; but had instinctively avoided doing so before her mother and sister, and had thus made a secret of it, as it were, between herself, Mary, and her brother;--had given currency, as it were, to the idea that there might be something serious between the two.

Not that Beatrice had ever wished to promote a marriage between them, or had even thought of such a thing.

She was girlish, thoughtless, imprudent, inartistic, and very unlike a de Courcy.