make a difference, to be sure. But then, it's
master I'm so afraid of--couldn't you speak to master first, Sir?"

"Suppose you were in Miss Margaret's place, would you like to be made
love to, by your father's authority, without your own wishes being
consulted first? would you like an offer of marriage, delivered like a
message, by means of your father? Come, tell me honestly, would you?"

She laughed, and shook her head very expressively. I knew the strength
of my last argument, and repeated it: "Suppose you were in Miss
Margaret's place?"

"Hush! don't speak so loud," resumed the girl in a confidential whisper.
"I'm sure you're a gentleman. I should like to help you--if I could only
dare to do it, I should indeed!"

"That's a good girl," I said. "Now tell me, when does Miss Margaret go
out to-day; and who goes with her?"

"Dear! dear!--it's very wrong to say it; but I must. She'll go out with
me to market, this morning, at eleven o'clock. She's done it for the
last week. Master don't like it; but Missus begged and prayed she might;
for Missus says she won't be fit to be married, if she knows nothing
about housekeeping, and prices, and what's good meat, and what isn't,
and all that, you know."

"Thank you a thousand times! you have given me all the help I want. I'll
be here before eleven, waiting for you to come out."

"Oh, please don't, Sir--I wish I hadn't told you--I oughtn't, indeed I
oughtn't!"

"No fear--you shall not lose by what you have told me--I promise all I
said I would promise--good bye. And mind, not a word to Miss Margaret
till I see her!"

As I hurried away, I heard the girl run a few paces after me--then
stop--then return, and close the garden gate, softly. She had evidently
put herself once more in Miss Margaret's place; and had given up all
idea of further resistance as she did so.

How should I occupy the hours until eleven o'clock? Deceit
whispered:--Go home; avoid even the chance of exciting suspicion, by
breakfasting with your family as usual. And as deceit counselled, so I
acted.

I never remember Clara more kind, more ready with all those trifling
little cares and attentions which have so exquisite a grace, when
offered by a woman to a man, and especially by a sister to a brother, as
when she and I and my father assembled together at the breakfast-table.
I now recollect with shame how little I thought about her, or spoke
to her on that morning; with how little hesitation or self-