c figures
which require no back-boards to teach them uprightness, no master of
deportment to instill grace into their movements. Her toilet and mine
were not, as may be supposed, of very rich materials or varied
character; but while my things always looked as bad of their kind as
they could--fitted badly, sat badly, were creased and crumpled--hers
always had a look of freshness; she wore the merest old black merino as
if it were velvet, and a muslin frill like a point-lace collar. There
are such people in the world. I have always admired them, envied them,
wondered at them from afar; it has never been my fate in the smallest
degree to approach or emulate them.

Her pale face, with its perfect outlines, was just illumined by the
candle she held, and the light also caught the crown of massive plaits
which she wore around her head. She set the candle down. I sat still and
looked at her.

"You are there, May," she remarked.

"Yes," was my subdued response.

"Where have you been all evening?"

"It does not matter to any one."

"Indeed it does. You were talking to Sir Peter Le Marchant. I saw you
meet him from my bedroom window."

"Did you?"

"Did he propose to you?" she inquired, with a composure which seemed to
me frightful. "Worldly," I thought, was a weak word to apply to her, and
I was suffering acutely.

"He did."

"Well, I suppose it would be a little difficult to accept him."

"I did not accept him."

"What?" she inquired, as if she had not quite caught what I said.

"I refused him," said I, slightly raising my voice.

"What are you telling me?"

"The truth."

"Sir Peter has fif--"

"Don't mention Sir Peter to me again," said I, nervously, and feeling as
if my heart would break. I had never quarreled with Adelaide before. No
reconciliation afterward could ever make up for the anguish which I was
going through now.

"Just listen to me," she said, bending over me, her lips drawn together.
"I ought to have spoken to you before. I don't know whether you have
ever given any thought to our position and circumstances. If not, it
would be as well that you should do so now. Papa is fifty-five years
old, and has three hundred a year. In the course of time he will die,
and as his life is not insured, and he has regularly spent every penny
of his income--naturally it would have been strange if he hadn't--what
is to become of us when he is dead?"

"We can work."

"Work!" said she, with inexpressible sc