rees I should have saved from the slaughter. Did you go and condemn any
of my pets?'

'Not that I know of,' said Humfrey. 'I have touched nothing near the
house.'

'Not even the old beech that was scathed with lightning? You know papa
says that is the touchstone of influence; Sarah and Mr. West both against
me,' laughed Honora, quite restored to her natural manner and confiding
ease.

'The beech is likely to stand as long as you wish it,' said Humfrey, with
an unaccustomed sort of matter-of-fact gravity, which surprised and
startled her, so as to make her bethink herself whether she could have
behaved ill about it, been saucy to Sarah, or the like.

'Thank you,' she said; 'have I made a fuss--?'

'No, Honor,' he said, with deliberate kindness, shutting up his knife,
and putting it into his pocket; 'only I believe it is time we should come
to an understanding.'

More than ever did she expect one of his kind remonstrances, and she
looked up at him in expectation, and ready for defence, but his broad,
sunburnt countenance looked marvellously heated, and he paused ere he
spoke.

'I find I can't spare you, Honora; you had better stay at the Holt for
good.' Her cheeks flamed, and her heart galloped, but she could not let
herself understand.

'Honor, you are old enough now, and I do not think you need fear. It is
almost your home already, and I believe I can make you happy, with the
blessing of God--' He paused, but as she could not frame an answer in
her consternation, continued, 'Perhaps I should not have spoken so
suddenly, but I thought you would not mind me; I should like to have had
one word from my little Honor before I go to your father, but don't if
you had rather not.'

'Oh, don't go to papa, please don't,' she cried, 'it would only make him
sorry.'

Humfrey stood as if under an unexpected shock.

'Oh! how came you to think of it?' she said in her distress; 'I never
did, and it can never be--I am so sorry!'

'Very well, my dear, do not grieve about it,' said Humfrey, only bent on
soothing her; 'I dare say you are quite right, you are used to people in
London much more suitable to you than a stupid homely fellow like me, and
it was a foolish fancy to think it might be otherwise. Don't cry, Honor
dear, I can't bear that!'

'Oh, Humfrey, only understand, please! You are the very dearest person
in the world to me after papa and mamma; and as to fine London people, oh
no, indeed! But--'

'It i