self to
offer as a mother to my children." All this he said looking down at
the floor, in a low, dull, droning voice, as though every sentence
spoken were to have been the last. Then he paused, looked into her
face for a moment, and after that, allowed his eyes again to fall on
the ground.

Margaret was, of course, aware that she must make him some answer,
and she was by no means prepared to give him one that would be
favourable. Indeed, she thought she knew that she could not marry
him, because she felt that she did not love him with affection of the
sort which would be due to a husband. She told herself that she must
refuse his offer. But yet she wanted time, and above all things, she
wished to find words which would not be painful to him. His dull
droning voice, and the honest recital of his troubles, and of her
troubles if she were to share his lot, had touched her more nearly
than any vows of love would have done. When he told her of the heavy
duties which might fall to her lot as his wife, he almost made her
think that it might be well for her to marry him, even though she did
not love him. "I hardly know how to answer you, you have taken me so
much by surprise," she said.

"You need not give me an answer at once," he replied; "you can think
of it." As she did not immediately say anything, he presumed that she
assented to this proposition. "You won't wonder now," he said, "that
I wished you to stay here, or that my mother wished it."

"Does Lady Ball know?" she asked.

"Yes, my mother does know."

"What am I to say to her?"

"Shall I tell you, Margaret, what to say? Put your arms round her
neck, and tell her that you will be her daughter."

"No, John; I cannot do that; and perhaps I ought to say now that I
don't think it will ever be possible. It has all so surprised me,
that I haven't known how to speak; and I am afraid I shall be letting
you go from me with a false idea. Perhaps I ought to say at once that
it cannot be."

"No, Margaret, no. It is much better that you should think of it. No
harm can come of that."

"There will be harm if you are disappointed."

"I certainly shall be disappointed if you decide against me; but not
more violently so, if you do it next week than if you do it now. But
I do hope that you will not decide against me."

"And what am I to do?"

"You can write to me from Littlebath."

"And how soon must I write?"

"As soon as you can make up your mind. But, Margaret, do