ou are to me? I
knew, from the moment we met, that you were what I had dreamt
of--different, but better.'

'I am sure I knew that you were!' escaped from Phoebe, softly, but making
her face burn, as at what she had not meant to say.

'Then you can bear with me? You do not forbid me to hope.'

'Oh! I am a great deal too happy!'

There came a great wailing, driving gust of storm at that moment, as if
it wanted to sweep them off their feet, but it was a welcome blast, for
it was the occasion of a strong arm being flung round Phoebe, to restrain
that fluttering cloak. 'Storms shall only blow us nearer together,
dearest,' he said, with recovered breath, as, with no unwilling hand, she
clung to his arm for help.

'If it be God's will,' said Phoebe, earnestly.

'And indeed,' he said, fervently, 'I have thought and debated much
whether it were His will; whether it could be right, that I, with my
poverty and my burthens, should thrust myself into your wealthy and
sheltered life. At first, when I thought you were a poor dependent, I
admitted the hope. I saw you spirited, helpful, sensible, and I dared to
think that you were of the stuff that would gladly be independent, and
would struggle on and up with me, as I have known so many do in my own
country.'

'Oh! would I not?'

'Then I found how far apart we stand in one kind of social scale, and
perhaps that ought to have overthrown all hope; but, Phoebe, it will not
do so! I will not ask you to share want and privation, but I will and do
ask you to be the point towards which I may work, the best earthly hope
set before me.'

'I am glad,' said Phoebe, 'that you knew too well to think there was any
real difference. Indeed, the superiority is all yours, except in mere
money. And mine, I am sure, need not stand in the way, but there is one
thing that does.'

'What? Your brothers?'

'I do not know. It is my sister Maria. I promised long ago that nothing
should make me desert her;' and, with a voice faltering a little, but
endeavouring to be firm, 'a promise to fulfil a duty appointed by
Providence must not he repented of when the cost is felt.'

'But why should you think of deserting her?' he said. 'Surely I may help
to bear your cares; and there is something so good, so gentle and lovable
about her, that she need be no grievance. I shall have to bring my
little brothers about you, too, so we shall be even,' he added, smiling.

'Then,' she said, looking in