ve a country house of my own: a place where there will be trees and
green meadows and flowers, such as one loves and sighs for. I have
often thought"--with a note of agitation in his voice--"how much easier
it would be to ask any one to share my life if I had these good things
to offer. My only chance has been to find someone who cares--as I
care--for the souls and bodies of the men and women around us; who would
not disdain to help me in my work."

"Who _could_ disdain it?" asked Lesley, innocently indignant.

"Do you mean"--turning suddenly upon her--"that you don't consider a
hard working doctor's life something inexpressibly beneath you?"

She drew back a little hurt, a little bit astonished.

"Certainly not. Why should I?"

"You are born to a life of luxury and self-indulgence."

"My father is a journalist," said Lesley with a smile, in which
amusement struggled with offence.

"But your grandfather was an earl! It is possible," with a touch of
raillery, "that you prefer earls to general practitioners."

"Of the two, it is the doctor that leads the better life, in my
opinion," said Lesley, rather hotly; but immediately cooling down, she
added the remark--"My preferences have nothing much, however, to do with
the matter."

"Have they not? How little you know your own power!"

Lesley looked at him in much amaze. Whither this conversation was
tending it had not yet occurred to her to inquire. But something in his
look, as he stood fronting her, brought the color to her cheeks and
caused her eyes to sink. She became suddenly a little afraid of him, and
wished herself a thousand miles away. Indeed she made one backward step,
as if her maidenly instincts were about to manifest themselves in actual
flight. But Maurice saw the movement, and made two steps forward, which
brought him so close to her that he could have touched her hand if he
had wished.

"Don't you understand?" he said, in an agitated voice. "Don't you see
that your opinion--your preferences--are all the world to me?"

He paused as if expecting her to reply--leaning a little towards her to
catch the word from her lips. But Lesley did not speak. She remained
motionless, as pale now as she had been red before--her hands hanging at
her sides and her eyes fixed upon the ground. She looked as if she were
stricken dumb with dismay.

"I know that I have not recommended myself to you by anything that I
have said or done," Maurice went on. "I misjudged y