me?"

Mattie stared; but Sir Harry's face, red and embarrassed as it was,
gave her no clue to his meaning.

"I don't think you understand me," he said, a little impatiently; "and
yet I am sure I am putting it very plainly. You don't object to me,
do you, Miss Mattie? I am sure I will do my best to make you happy.
Gilsbank is a pretty place, and we shall have Aunt Catherine and the
girls near us. We shall all be as merry as larks, if you will only
promise to marry me, for I have liked you from the first; I have
indeed, Miss Mattie."

Sir Harry was a gentleman, in spite of his rough ways. He understood
in a moment, when Mattie's answer to this was a very feeble clutch at
his arm, as though her strength were deserting her. What with the
sudden surprise of these words, and the force of the wind, the poor
little woman felt herself reeling.

"Stand here for a moment, and I will shelter you from the wind. No,
don't speak; just hold on, and keep quiet: there is no hurry. No one
shall scold you, if I can help it. I am afraid"--speaking as gently as
to a child--"that I have been a little rough and sudden with you. Do
you feel faint? I never saw you look so pale. What a thoughtless brute
I have been!"

"No,--oh, no," panted Mattie; "only I am so giddy, and--so happy." The
last words were half whispered, but he caught them. "Are you sure you
really mean this, Sir Harry?"

"As sure as that the wind blows," he returned, cheerfully. "Well,
that's settled. You and I are to be in the same boat for good and
all,--eh, Miss Mattie? Now let us walk on; and I won't say another
word until we reach Mrs. Sparsit's."

Perhaps he had taken this resolution because he saw that Mattie found
speech impossible. Her very footsteps tottered as she struggled
against the opposing wind. Only the arm on which she leaned seemed to
give her strength; and yet Mattie no longer shivered in the cutting
blast. She was no longer cold, and numb, and desolate. Something
wonderful and incredible and altogether unreal had befallen
her,--something that had turned her dizzy with happiness, and which
she could not in the least believe. All she knew was that he had told
her that no one should scold her now.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Sir Harry, stopping at a trim little cottage,
with a side-view of the sea; "and, by Jove, there is the poodle
himself at the window. How do you do, Mrs. Sparsit?" as a pleasant,
wrinkled dame appeared on the threshold. "You know Mis