charity shillings, she had never thought that it
would lead to a declaration of love.

He had never called her Fanny in his life--not up to the moment when she
declined the honor of becoming Mrs. Saul. The offer itself was made in
this wise. She had been at the house of old Widow Tubb, half-way between
Cumberly Green and the little village of Clavering, striving to make
that rheumatic old woman believe that she had not been cheated by a
general conspiracy of the parish in the matter of a distribution of
coal, when, just as she was about to leave the cottage, Mr. Saul came
up. It was then past four, and the evening was becoming dark, and there
was, moreover, a slight drizzle of rain. It was not a tempting evening
for a walk of a mile and a half through a very dirty lane; but Fanny
Clavering did not care much for such things, and was just stepping out
into the mud and moisture, with her dress well looped up, when Mr. Saul
accosted her.

"I'm afraid you'll be very wet, Miss Clavering."

"That will be better than going without my cup of tea, Mr. Saul, which I
should have to do if I stayed any longer with Mrs. Tubb. And I have got
an umbrella."

"But it is so dark and dirty," said he.

"I'm used to that, as you ought to know."

"Yes; I do know it," said he, walking on with her. "I do know that
nothing ever turns you away from the good work."

There was something in the tone of his voice which Fanny did not like.
He had never complimented her before. They had been very intimate, and
had often scolded each other. Fanny would accuse him of exacting too
much from the people, and he would retort upon her that she coddled
them. Fanny would often decline to obey him, and he would make angry
hints as to his clerical authority. In this way they had worked together
pleasantly, without any of the awkwardness which on other terms would
have arisen between a young man and a young woman. But now that he began
to praise her with some peculiar intention of meaning in his tone, she
was confounded. She had made no immediate answer to him, but walked on
rapidly through the mud and slush.

"You are very constant," said he; "I have not been two years at
Clavering without finding that out." It was becoming worse and worse. It
was not so much his words which provoked her as the tone in which they
were uttered. And yet she had not the slightest idea of what was coming.
If, thoroughly admiring her devotion and mistaken as to her character,