vourably disposed. She
considered that sooner or later something of the kind must happen, and
it was perhaps just as well that the chaplain, who was already so dear
to her should become a member of the family. She therefore said, when
she had made up her mind--

"Well, Mr. Martens, if you really think that Madeleine will make you a
good wife in the eyes of God and man, I have nothing to do but give you
my very best wishes on the choice you have made. You will find Madeleine
in the green-room."

Pastor Martens went off to the green-room, and returned after a quarter
of an hour had elapsed; but Mrs. Garman's astonishment defies
description, when she learnt that he had met with a refusal.

"Tell me," she groaned--"tell me every word. Oh, the poor misguided
child!"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you every word that passed, Mrs. Garman,"
answered Martens, pale with emotion; "I am too much shocked and--"

"And surprised too, I am sure," said Mrs. Garman, concluding his
sentence; "yes, that I can readily believe. What is the matter with the
child? What reason did she give?"

"She did not say much," answered the pastor; "she seemed to be almost
afraid of me. She went off to the door and began to cry, and said--"

"What--what did she say?"

"She simply kept repeating 'no,'" answered the chaplain, quite
crestfallen.

Mrs. Garman could not disguise her astonishment.

The bright sunshine had not the same enlivening effect upon the pastor
as he returned to his lodgings. He, however, managed to control both his
feelings and his countenance. This was a trial that he would have to
receive with humility. The only thing that annoyed him was, that he had
said anything about it to Mrs. Garman.

Mr. Martens's proposal was the only thing that was wanted to complete
the life of wretchedness, which Madeleine had passed ever since that
moonlight autumn evening; and yet the chaplain was to a certain extent
right, when he thought that Madeleine had met him with some degree of
warmth. There was, in fact, something in the almost fatherly manner with
which he treated her, something which seemed to soothe her affrighted
heart. She had a longing to be able to feel confidence in somebody, and
the calm, earnest clergyman seemed to her so different from all those
for whom she had such an abhorrence, since she had made her fatal
discovery. And now he, too, was to come to her with the same story;
told, certainly, in a different way--that she was