icult to me."

It was very hard. My heart was brimming over with a joyous reply to this
appeal; but Mrs. Hollingford's uneasy face was vividly before my eyes
all the time, and I could only say distressedly, "It cannot be, John. It
cannot, cannot be."

"Why?" he asked, almost sternly, and he rose up and stood above me.
"Tell me that you cannot love me--tell me you would rather save yourself
for more honour, more prosperity, and I will never trouble you again.
Were I differently circumstanced I might plead, but I could not live to
see you discontented, ashamed. Why can it not be, Margery?"

I clasped my hands in my lap, and tried to speak firmly. "For a reason
that I cannot give to you, John. Let us be good friends."

"Friends!" he echoed bitterly. "Well! I was wrong to think of my own
happiness before your worldly advantage. Good-bye, Margery. I am going
to London in the morning. Perhaps you may be gone before I come back."

And with this he abruptly walked out of the room. But afterwards I sat
there an hour, wondering if what had passed so quickly were true, and I
had really refused to be John Hollingford's wife.

After tea he left us early, saying he must start for Hillsbro' at four
in the morning. Mopsie fell asleep, and Jane absorbed herself in her
books. Mrs. Hollingford and I held some embroidery in our hands, but my
fingers trembled so that the stitches went all wrong. Now and again,
glancing up, I encountered long troubled looks from Mrs. Hollingford.
She had seen that something was amiss between me and John, and I guessed
that her mind was at work with fears. I could not bear it; I thought it
was not fair after what I had done. For the first and last time I felt
angry and impatient with the dear old lady. Would she herself, in her
own young days, have sacrificed as much? Jane shut up her books at last,
and carried Mopsie off with her to bed, and Mrs. Hollingford and I were
left sitting facing one another.

"Mrs. Hollingford," I said, dropping my work with almost a sob, "don't
look at me like that. I cannot bear it, and I do not deserve it."

What made me say it I cannot think. The moment before I spoke I had no
intention of speaking. Mrs. Hollingford dropped her work in dismay.

"My love," she said, "what do you mean? I do not understand. What do my
looks say that you cannot bear?"

"Oh, Mrs. Hollingford," I said, covering my burning cheeks with my
hands, "you must know what I mean. You look at me, and