hild, there's nothing more in it;' and with that she left me hastily.

I was used to think Althea much wiser than myself, but the evening of
the very day when we had this talk proved that in this matter her
judgment was more at fault than mine. For about sunset Mr. Poole came up
to the Grange, which was a rare thing for him to do, seeing he did not
love to be abroad when it was dark. He seemed mightily puffed up about
something; and, not being one of those who can keep their own counsel
long, he soon imparted to Althea and me, whom he found sitting by the
parlour fire, how his promotion now seemed very near. There was a living
of which he had long had hopes to get the reversion; and the actual
incumbent was fallen sick of a strange fever, with little prospect of
recovery.

'And you are troubled because of the poor man's grievous case,' says
Althea demurely. 'I guessed something was disturbing you. It's
melancholy news indeed, Mr. Poole, for one would guess by it that the
place must be unhealthy, so it may be your luck to sicken in like manner
when it is your turn to live there.'

I thought Althea cruel thus to tease the poor man, imputing to him a
tender concern for the sufferer of which he had never dreamed; besides,
he was chicken-hearted about contagious disorders, and that she knew. I
pitied him then, but found it hard to forbear laughing, his aspect was
so comical; therefore I feigned an errand out of the room, and, having
stayed away long enough to compose my countenance, I returned to the
parlour, where I found poor Mr. Poole on his knees to Althea, urging his
suit for her hand with a great deal more passion than one could have
expected in him. 'Twas in vain she spoke of her orphanhood and poverty,
and told him he should look higher; and at last she had to speak
sharply, and say, however she might esteem the honour he would do her,
wife of his she would never be; 'so quit that unbecoming posture at my
feet,' she added; on which he rose indeed, but said half-frantically,--

'Give me at least, madam; the comfort of hearing you say you are
heart-free, that you love none other better than you do me;' on which
first her eyes flashed angry fire, and then changed and softened, her
whole face and even her neck going rosy-red, and she said almost
kindly,--

'I will give you no such assurance, sir, to hold you in vain hopes; but
I wish you a happier fate than marriage with me might prove.' With that
she was gone from