of bitter disappointment,
genuine emotion, and passionate entreaty.

"It is no use, Mr. Layard," said Stella at last. "Indeed, I am much
obliged to you. You have paid me a great compliment, but it is not
possible that I should become your wife, and the sooner that is clear
the better for us both."

"Are you engaged?" he asked.

"No, Mr. Layard; and probably I never shall be. I have my own ideas
about matrimony, and the conditions under which I would undertake it are
not at all likely ever to be within my reach."

Again he implored,--for at the time this woman really held his
heart,--wringing his hands, and, indeed, weeping in the agony of a
repulse which was the more dreadful because it was quite unexpected.
He had scarcely imagined that this poor clergyman's daughter, who had
little but her looks and a sweet voice, would really refuse the best
match for twenty miles round, nor had his conversation with her father
suggested to his mind any such idea.

It was true that Mr. Fregelius had given him no absolute encouragement;
he had said that personally the marriage would be very pleasing to
himself, but that it was a matter of which Stella must judge; and
when asked whether he would speak to his daughter, he had emphatically
declined. Still, Stephen Layard had taken this to be all a part of the
paternal formula, and rejoiced, thinking the matter as good as settled.
Dreadful indeed, then, was it to him when he found that he was called
upon to contemplate the dull obverse of his shield of faith, and not
its bright and shining face, in which he had seen mirrored so clear a
picture of perfect happiness.

So he begged on piteously enough, till at last Stella was forced to stop
him by saying as gently as she could:

"Please spare us both, Mr. Layard; I have given my answer, and I am
sorry to say that it is impossible for me to go back upon my word."

Then a sudden fury seized him.

"You are in love with somebody else," he said; "you are in love with
Morris Monk; and he is a villain, when he is engaged, to go taking you
too. I know it."

"Then, Mr. Layard," said Stella, striving to keep her temper, "you know
more than I know myself."

"Very likely," he answered. "I never said you knew it, but it's true,
for all that. I feel it here--where you will feel it one day, to your
sorrow"--and he placed his hand upon his heart.

A sudden terror took hold of her, but with difficulty she found her
mental balance.

"I hope