they are quite enough,
and more than enough for me! They are equal to anything ever required of
the mistress of a quiet parsonage-house--the place in which I shall pass
my days, wherever it may be situated. O Fancy, I have watched you,
criticized you even severely, brought my feelings to the light of
judgment, and still have found them rational, and such as any man might
have expected to be inspired with by a woman like you! So there is
nothing hurried, secret, or untoward in my desire to do this. Fancy,
will you marry me?"

No answer was returned.

"Don't refuse; don't," he implored. "It would be foolish of you--I mean
cruel! Of course we would not live here, Fancy. I have had for a long
time the offer of an exchange of livings with a friend in Yorkshire, but
I have hitherto refused on account of my mother. There we would go. Your
musical powers shall be still further developed; you shall have whatever
pianoforte you like; you shall have anything, Fancy, anything to make you
happy--pony-carriage, flowers, birds, pleasant society; yes, you have
enough in you for any society, after a few months of travel with me! Will
you, Fancy, marry me?"

Another pause ensued, varied only by the surging of the rain against the
window-panes, and then Fancy spoke, in a faint and broken voice.

"Yes, I will," she said.

"God bless you, my own!" He advanced quickly, and put his arm out to
embrace her. She drew back hastily. "No no, not now!" she said in an
agitated whisper. "There are things;--but the temptation is, O, too
strong, and I can't resist it; I can't tell you now, but I must tell you!
Don't, please, don't come near me now! I want to think, I can scarcely
get myself used to the idea of what I have promised yet." The next
minute she turned to a desk, buried her face in her hands, and burst into
a hysterical fit of weeping. "O, leave me to myself!" she sobbed; "leave
me! O, leave me!"

"Don't be distressed; don't, dearest!" It was with visible difficulty
that he restrained himself from approaching her. "You shall tell me at
your leisure what it is that grieves you so; I am happy--beyond all
measure happy!--at having your simple promise."

"And do go and leave me now!"

"But I must not, in justice to you, leave for a minute, until you are
yourself again."

"There then," she said, controlling her emotion, and standing up; "I am
not disturbed now."

He reluctantly moved towards the door. "Good-bye!"