is taken,' observed
the bishop, mildly. 'For instance, I have a right to be annoyed that my
son should engage himself to you without consulting me.'

Bell produced a foolish little lace handkerchief. 'Of course, I know I
ain't a lady, sir,' said she, tearfully. 'But I do love Gabriel, and I'm
sure I'll do my best to make him happy.'

'I do not doubt that, Miss Mosk; but are you sure that you are wise in
marrying out of your sphere?'

'King Cophetua loved a beggar maid, my lord; and the Lord of Burleigh
married a village girl,' said Bell, who knew her Tennyson, 'and I'm sure
I'm as good as both lots.'

'Certainly,' assented the bishop, dryly; 'but if I remember rightly, the
Lord of Burleigh's bride sank under her burden of honours.'

Bell tossed her head in spite of the bishop's presence. 'Oh, she had no
backbone, not a bit. I've got heaps more sense than she had. But you
mustn't think I want to run after gentlemen, sir. I have had plenty of
offers; and I can get more if I want to. Gabriel has only to say the
word and the engagement is off.'

'Indeed, I think that would be the wiser course,' replied the bishop,
who wondered more and more what Gabriel could see in this commonplace
beauty attractive to his refined nature, 'but I know that my son loves
you dearly, and I wish to see him happy.'

'I hope you don't think I want to make him miserable, sir,' cried Bell,
her colour and temper rising.

'No! no! Miss Mosk. But a matter like this requires reflection and
consideration.'

'We have reflected, my lord. Gabriel and me's going to marry.'

'Indeed! will you not ask my consent?'

'I ask it now, sir! I'm sure,' said Bell, again becoming tearful, 'this
ain't my idea of love-making, to be badgered into saying I'm not good
enough for him. If he's a man let him marry me, if he's a worm he
needn't. I've no call to go begging. No, indeed!'

The bishop began to feel somewhat embarrassed, for Miss Mosk applied
every word to herself in so personal a way, that whatever he said
constituted a ground of offence, and he scarcely knew upon what lines to
conduct so delicate a conversation. Also the girl was crying, and her
tears made Dr Pendle fear that he was exercising his superiority in a
brutal manner. Fortunately the conversation was brought abruptly to an
end, for while the bishop was casting about how to resume it, the door
opened softly and Mr Mosk presented himself.

'Father!' cried Bell, in anything but pleased to