After a while the latter invited her into the parlor, saying there is somebody there; but no one knows.

This, however, though hardly unexpected, set Mary's heart beating, and when the parlor door was opened, Mrs.Easton stepped back, and Mary was alone with Walter Clifford.
Then might those who oppose an honest and tender affection have learned a lesson.

It was no longer affection only.

It was passion.

Walter was pale, agitated, eager; he kissed her hands impetuously, and drew her to his bosom.