he rector, on
the contrary, was tall and fair, and so exceedingly handsome that
women especially never perceived that the portal to all his senses was
small and low and that he was incapable of receiving a great idea.

On that Saturday morning Robert Burrell resolved to test his fate, and
he wrote to Miss Tresham. It was a letter full of that passionate
adoration he was too timid to personally offer, and his protestations
were honourably certified by the offer of his hand and fortune. It was
a noble letter; a letter no woman could easily put aside. It meant to
Elizabeth a sure love to guard and comfort her and an absolute release
from the petty straits and anxieties of genteel poverty. It would make
her the mistress of the finest domestic establishment in the
neighbourhood--it would give her opportunities for helping Roland to
the position in life he ought to occupy; and this thought--though an
after one--had a great influence on Elizabeth's mind.

After some consideration she took the letter to her father. He was in
one of his most querulous moods, ill-disposed to believe in any good
thing coming to him. He read the letter under such influence, and yet
he could not but be sensible of its importance.

"It is a piece of unexpected good fortune for you, Elizabeth," he said
with a sigh. "Of course it will leave me alone here, but I do not mind
that now; all else has gone--why not you? I thought, however, the
rector was your choice. I hope you have no entanglement there."

"He has never asked me to be his wife, but he has constantly shown
that he wished it. He is poor--I think he felt that."

"He has made love to you, called you the fairest girl on earth, made
you believe he lived only in your presence, and so on, and so on?"

"Yes, he has talked in that way for a long time."

"He never intends to ask you to marry him. He asked Dr. Eyre if you
had any fortune. Oh, I know his kind and their ways!"

"I think you are mistaken, father. If he knew Mr. Burrell wished to
marry me he would venture to----"

"You think he would? I am sure he would not--but here the gentleman
comes. I will speak a few words to him and then he will speak to you,
and after that you can answer Mr. Burrell's letter. Stay a moment,
Elizabeth. It is only fair to tell you that I have no money but my
annuity. When I die you will be penniless."

So Elizabeth went out of the room silent and with her head drooping a
little. The word "penniless" was a