began Miss Sarah.

"Now, Sarah, you stop!" cried he. "I've begun, and now I'll _tell_. At
first I teased her for fun. Then I watched her to see how she bore
everything so well. And while I was watching, I--before I knew it--I
began to love her. You may talk, if you want to; but I shall never _be_
anybody, if she won't have me!"

"Stage coming!" said a little boy, running in.

I took Rachel by the hand, and drew her with me into the porch.

"Don't promise to marry him!" cried Sam, as we passed through the
door-way. "But she will,--I know she will!" he added, as I closed the
door.

He spoke in a pitiful tone, and his voice trembled. I was surprised that
he showed so much feeling.

"Rachel," said I, as soon as we were alone, "won't you answer me now?
You must know how much I love you. Will you be my wife?"

"Oh, Mr. Browne, I cannot! I cannot!" she whispered.

I was silent, for my fears came uppermost. Pressing one hand to my
forehead, I thought of a thousand things in a moment. Nothing seemed
more probable than that she should already have a lover across the sea.
Seeing my distress, she spoke.

"Don't think, Mr. Browne," she began, earnestly, "that it is because I
do not"--

There she stopped. I gazed eagerly in her face. It was strangely
agitated. I should hardly have known my calm, white-faced Rachel. Just
then I heard the stage stop at the bars.

"Oh, Rachel!" I cried, "go on! What mustn't I think? What shall I
think?"

"Don't think me ungrateful,--you have been so kind," she said, softly.

"And is that all?" I asked.

"Stage ready!" called out the driver.

I opened the door, to show that I was coming; then, taking her hand, I
said,--

"Good bye, Rachel! And so--you can't love me!"

An expression of pain crossed her face. She leaned against the wall, but
did not speak.

"Hurry up there!" shouted the driver.

"Yes, yes!" I cried, impatiently.

"If you can't speak," I went on to Rachel, "press my hand, if you can
love me,--now, for I am going. Good bye!"

She did not press my hand, and I could not go.

"You can't say you love me," I cried; "then say you don't. Anything
rather than this doubt."

"Oh, Mr. Browne!" she replied, at last, "I can't say anything--but--good
bye!"

"Good bye, then," I said, sadly. "But shall you still live here?"

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, earnestly; "you can't think that I"--

Here she stopped, and glanced towards the kitchen-door.

"No," said I, "I won't thin