on the landing, out of which all that was to be seen was the
wooded slope of the hill and the sky above it. She heard his step--she
knew that he was coming up-stairs--and felt a sudden indefinable sense
of apprehension--a sort of panic almost--as if she could have jumped out
of the window. What should she answer?

When he came and put his arm round her waist, and asked in a low voice,
"Elizabeth, will you be mine?" she felt, for the first time in her life,
on the point of fainting. She hardly knew what she did, but pushed him
involuntarily away from her.

He seized her hand afresh, and asked, "Elizabeth, will you be my wife?"

She was very pale, as she answered--"Yes!"

But when he wanted again to take her by the waist, she sprang suddenly
back, and looked at him with an expression of terror.

"Elizabeth!" he said, tenderly, and tried again to approach her, "what
is the matter with you? If you only knew how I have longed for this
moment."

"Not now--no more now!" she pleaded, holding out her hand to him.
"Another time."

"But you say 'Yes,' Elizabeth--that you are my--?" But he felt that she
wanted him to go now.

After he had gone, she sat there on a box for a long time in silence,
gazing straight before her.

So it had actually come to pass! Her heart beat so that she could hear
it herself, and she seemed to feel a dull pain there. Her face, little
by little, acquired a fixed, cold expression: she was thinking that he
was then telling his stepmother of their engagement, and fortifying
himself for her reception of the announcement.

She expected to be called down. But no summons came; and at last she
decided to go without being called.

In the sitting-room they were all quietly intent upon their several
occupations. Carl was pretending to read a book; but he threw her a
stolen, tenderly anxious look over the top of it when she entered.

Supper was brought in, and everything went on as quietly as usual, even
to his customary banter. To Elizabeth it seemed as if there was a mist
over them all; and when Mina once asked if there was anything the matter
with her, she could only answer mechanically, 'No.' The question was
repeated later on, and received the same answer. She brought the supper
things in and took them out, as usual, and it seemed as if she could not
feel the floor under her feet, or what she carried in her hand.

The evening passed, and they went to bed without anything happening. But
in the pa