nd you must just go to him, my
dear, and hear what he's got to say to you."

"Oh, mamma!" said Rachel.

"I suppose you must do what she tells you," said Mrs. Ray.

"Of course she must," said Mrs. Sturt.

"Mamma, you must go to him," said Rachel.

"That won't do at all," said Mrs. Sturt.

"And why has he come here?" said Rachel.

"Ah! I wonder why," said Mrs. Sturt. "I wonder why any young man
should come on such an errand! But it won't do to leave him there
standing in my parlour by himself, so do you come along with me."

So saying Mrs. Sturt took Rachel by the arm to lead her away. Mrs.
Ray in this great emergency was perfectly helpless. She could simply
look at her daughter with imploring, loving eyes, and stand quivering
in doubt against the dresser. Mrs. Sturt had very decided views on
the matter. She had put Luke Rowan into the parlour with a promise
that she would bring Rachel to him there, and she was not going to
break her word through any mock delicacy. The two young people liked
one another, and they should have this opportunity of saying so in
each other's hearing. So she took Rachel by the arm, and opening the
door of the parlour led her into the room. "Mr. Rowan," she said,
"when you and Miss Rachel have had your say out, you'll find me and
her mamma in the kitchen." Then she closed the door and left them
alone.

Rachel, when first summoned out of the cottage, had felt at once
that Mrs. Sturt's visit must have reference to Luke Rowan. Indeed
everything with her in her present moods had some reference to
him,--some reference though it might be ever so remote. But now
before she had time to form a thought, she was told that he was there
in the same house with her, and that she was taken to him in order
that she might hear his words and speak her own. It was very sudden;
and for the space of a few moments she would have fled away from Mrs.
Sturt's kitchen had such flight been possible. Since Rowan had gone
from her there had been times in which she would have fled to him, in
which she would have journeyed alone any distance so that she might
tell him of her love, and ask whether she had got any right to hope
for his. But all that seemed to be changed. Though her mother was
there with her and her friend, she feared that this seeking of her
lover was hardly maidenly. Should he not have come to her,--every
foot of the way to her feet, and there have spoken if he had aught to
say, before she had been