t me with a serious yet tender fixity), "if,
by-and-by, in the years ahead of us, you came and told me that by my
selfishness, taking advantage of your youth, I had destroyed your life?"

"And do you think," say I, with a flash of indignation, "that even if
you had done it, I should come and tell you?"

"Are you _quite_ sure that among all the men of your acquaintance, men
nearer you in age, more akin in tastes, men _not_ gray-haired, _not_
weather-beaten, _not_ past their best years--there is not one with whom
you would more willingly spend your life than with me? If it is so, I
_beseech_ you to tell me, as you would tell your mother!"

"If there were," reply I, smiling broadly, a smile which greatly widens
my mouth, and would show my dimples if I had any, "I should _indeed_ be
susceptible! The two curates that you saw the other night--the one who
tore his gloves into strips, you know, and the other who ate so
much--Toothless Jack--these are the sort of men among whom my lines have
lain. Do you think I am likely to be very much in love with any of
_them_?"

My speech does not seem so altogether reassuring as I had expected.

"I am very suspicious," he says, half apologetically, "but you have seen
so little of the world, you have led such a nun's life! how can you
answer for it that hereafter out in the world you may not meet some one
more to your liking? You are a dear little, kindly, tender-hearted sort,
and you do not tell me so, but you do not like me _much_, Nancy! Indeed,
dear, I could far better do without you now, than see you by-and-by
wishing me away and yet be unable to rid you of me."

"People can help falling in love," say I, with matter-of-fact
common-sense. "If I belonged to you, of course I should never think of
any one else in that way."

"Are you sure--?"

"I wish that you would not ask me any more questions," say I,
interrupting him with a pout. "I am quite sure of every thing you can
possibly think of."

"I will only ask _one_ more--are you quite sure that it is not for your
brothers' and sisters' sakes--not your own--that you are doing this? Do
you remember" (with a smile half playful, half sad) "what you told me
about your views of marriage on that first day when I found you in the
kitchen-garden?"

"I hope to Heaven that you did not think I was _hinting_," say I,
growing crimson; "it certainly sounded very like it, but I really and
truly was not. I was thinking of a _young_ man! I assu