ing in
words. The Squire, watching her, hurriedly resumed.

'I put it like an idiot! What I meant was this. If I could induce
you to marry me--and put up with me--I believe both our lives might
be much more interesting and agreeable!'

The intensity of the demand expressed in his pale hazel eyes and
frowning brow struck full upon her.

But Elizabeth slowly shook her head.

'I am very grateful to you, Mr. Mannering, but'--a rather ironical
smile showed itself--'I think you hardly understand me. We should
never get on.'

'Why?'

'Because our temperaments--our characters--are so different.'

'You can't forgive me about the war?'

'Well, that hurts me,' she said, after a moment, 'but I leave that
to Mr. Desmond. No! I am thinking of myself and you. What you
propose does not attract me at all. Marriage--in my view--wants
something--deeper--to build on than you suggest.'

'Inconsistent woman!' cried the inner voice, but Elizabeth silenced
it. She was not inconsistent. She would have resented love-making,
but _feeling_--something to gild the chain!--that she had certainly
expected. The absence of it humiliated her.

The Squire's countenance fell.

'Deeper?' he said, with a puzzled look. 'I wonder what you mean? I
haven't anything "deeper." There isn't anything "deep" about me.'

Was it true? Elizabeth suddenly recalled those midnight steps on the
night of Desmond's departure.

'You know,' he resumed, 'for you have worked with me now for six
months--you know at least what kind of a man I am. I assure you it's
at any rate no worse than that! And if I ever annoyed you too much,
why you could always keep me in order--by the mere threat of going
away! I could have cut my throat any day with pleasure during those
weeks you were absent!'

Again Elizabeth hid her face in her hands and laughed--rather
hysterically. There _was_ something in this last appeal that touched
her--some note of 'the imperishable child,' which indeed she had
always recognized in the Squire's strange personality.

The Squire waited--frowning. When she looked up at last she spoke in
her natural friendly voice.

'I don't think, Mr. Mannering, we had better go on talking like
this. I can't accept what you offer me--'

'Again I can't think why,' he interrupted vehemently; 'you have
given me no sort of explanation. Why must you refuse?'

'Because I don't feel like it,' she said, smiling. 'That's all I
need say. Please don't think me ungratefu