Lizzie, half angry, half sullen,
with a flush on her face. "I've done nothing wrong," she added quickly.

"I don't say you've done anything wrong; for what I can tell you may be
doing the work of an angel."

She looked up at him eagerly, and the tears sprang to her eyes. "I don't
know for that. I--I don't ask nothing but not to be blamed."

"Lizzie," he said, "you were always a good girl--and to be faithful as
you seem, may, for anything I know, be angels' work. I could not do it,
for my part."

"Oh no," she said, hurriedly. "It could not be looked for from you,--oh
no, no!"

"But think if you were to ruin yourself," he said. "The rector saw you
the other day, but he will say nothing. Yet think if others saw you."

"Sir," cried Lizzie, drawing back, "it will do me more harm and vex
granny more to see a gentleman walking by my side and talking like that,
as if he took an interest in me,--which you don't, all the same," she
added, with a little bitterness, "only for--others."

"I do," he cried, "if I could help you without harming you. But it is
chiefly for the other. I want you to act for me, Lizzie. If trouble
should come, as come, of course, it will----"

"I am none so sure. You never saw her half so pretty--and he----"

"Silence!" cried Dick, with a voice that was like the report of deep
guns. "If trouble comes, let me know. She must not want or be miserable.
There is my address. Do not apply to me unless there is absolute need;
but if that comes, write, telegraph,--no matter which; help shall come."

"And what am I to do with a gentleman's card?" said Lizzie. "Granny or
some one will be sure to see it. It will drop out of my pocket, or it
will be seen in my drawers, or something. And if I were to die it would
be found, and folks would think badly of me. I will not take your card."

"This is folly, Lizzie."

"If it is, folly's natural. I don't believe there will be any need; if
there is, I'll find you out, if you're wanted, but I won't take the
card. Will you please, sir, to walk on? I've got my character to think
of."

The girl stopped short, leaning against the corner of the wall, defying
him, though she was not hostile to him. He put back his card in his
pocket, and took off his hat, which was a recognition which brought the
colour to Lizzie's cheek.

"Go away, sir; I've got my character to think of," she said. Then she
curtsied deeply, with a certain dignity in her rustic manners. "Thank
you," she