house should be unpleasant to both of them. In answer to all
this, John Ball said nothing, but once or twice lifted up his left
hand so as to establish Margaret's arm more firmly on his own. She
hardly noticed the motion, but yet she was aware that it was intended
for kindness, and then she broke forth with a rapid voice as to her
plan about the hospital. "I think we can manage better than that, at
any rate," said he, stopping her in the path when this proposal met
his ear. But she went on to declare that she would like it, that she
was strong and qualified for such work, that it would satisfy her
aspirations, and be fit for her. And then, after that, she declared
that nothing should induce her to undertake the kind of life that had
been suggested by her aunt. "I quite agree with you there," said he;
"quite. I hate tabbies as much as you do."

They had now come to a little gate, of which John Ball kept a key,
and which led into the grounds belonging to the Cedars. The grounds
were rather large, and the path through them extended for half a
mile, but the land was let off to a grazier. When inside the wall,
however, they were private; and Mr Ball, as soon as he had locked
the gate behind him, stopped her in the dark path, and took both her
hands in his. The gloom of the evening had now come round them, and
the thick trees which formed the belt of the place, joined to the
high wall, excluded from them nearly all what light remained.

"And now," said he, "I will tell you my plan."

"What plan?" said she; but her voice was very low.

"I proposed it once before, but you would not have it then."

When she heard this, she at once drew both her hands from him, and
stood before him in an agony of doubt. Even in the gloom, the trees
were going round her, and everything, even her thoughts, were obscure
and misty.

"Margaret," said he, "you shall be my wife, and the mother of my
children, and I will love you as I loved Rachel before. I loved you
when I asked you at Christmas, but I did not love you then as I love
you now."

She still stood before him, but answered him not a word. How often
since the tidings of her loss had reached her had the idea of such
a meeting as this come before her! how often had she seemed to
listen to such words as those he now spoke to her! Not that she had
expected it, or hoped for it, or even thought of it as being in truth
possible; but her imagination had been at work, during the long hours
of