reasons why it should be done. If talking could have done it,
his talking was good enough. Though his words were in truth cold,
and affected, and learned by rote, they did not offend her; but his
face offended her; and the feeling was strong within her that if she
yielded, it would soon be close to her own. She couldn't do it. She
didn't love him, and she wouldn't do it. Priscilla would not grudge
her her share out of that meagre meal-tub. Had not Priscilla told her
not to marry the man if she did not love him? She found that she was
further than ever from loving him. She would not do it. "Say that you
will be mine," pleaded Mr. Gibson, coming to her with both his hands
outstretched.

"Mr. Gibson, I can't," she said. She was sobbing now, and was half
choked by tears.

"And why not, Dorothy?"

"I don't know, but I can't. I don't feel that I want to be married at
all."

"But it is honourable."

"It's no use, Mr. Gibson; I can't, and you oughtn't to ask me any
more."

"Must this be your very last answer?"

"What's the good of going over it all again and again? I can't do
it."

"Never, Miss Stanbury?"

"No;--never."

"That is cruel, very cruel. I fear that you doubt my love."

"It isn't cruel, Mr. Gibson. I have a right to have my own feelings,
and I can't. If you please, I'll go away now." Then she went, and
he was left standing alone in the room. His first feeling was one
of anger. Then there came to be mixed with that a good deal of
wonder,--and then a certain amount of doubt. He had during the last
fortnight discussed the matter at great length with a friend, a
gentleman who knew the world, and who took upon himself to say that
he specially understood female nature. It was by advice from this
friend that he had been instigated to plead his own cause. "Of course
she means to accept you," the friend had said. "Why the mischief
shouldn't she? But she has some flimsy, old-fashioned country idea
that it isn't maidenly to give in at first. You tell her roundly that
she must marry you." Mr. Gibson was just reaching that roundness
which his friend had recommended when the lady left him and he was
alone.

Mr. Gibson was no doubt very much in love with Dorothy Stanbury. So
much, we may take for granted. He, at least, believed that he was in
love with her. He would have thought it wicked to propose to her had
he not been in love with her. But with his love was mingled a certain
amount of contempt which had induc