her pathetic, little man. Ugly, and Mabel had such an
instinctive sympathy for anything ugly or unloved. So, to begin with,
she had been kind to him; then one day Mrs. Grant had opened her eyes to
the evident admiration of the man, mentioning at the same time that from
the money point of view he would be a good match, and suddenly Mabel had
known that she was afraid. Afraid, without exactly knowing why, very
much as is the hapless sheep on his way to the slaughter-house.

As the maid ushered in Mr. Jarvis a minute or two later this feeling of
fear caught at Mabel's heart, and in answer to its summons the warm
blood flushed to face and neck as she stood up to receive him.

"I am early," stammered the man, his eyes on her new-wakened beauty, for
it was only in her lack of colour that Mabel's want of prettiness lay,
"but I came on purpose, I wanted to catch you alone."

Mabel took what was almost a despairing look at the clock. "Mother won't
be down for quite half an hour," she said, "so you have succeeded. Shall
we stay here or will you come down to the garden? I want to show you my
Black Prince rose, it is not doing at all well."

She moved to the window which opened doorways on to the garden, but Mr.
Jarvis made no attempt to follow her.

"Let us stay here," he said, "what I have got to say won't take long and
we can do the roses afterwards when Mrs. Grant is about. I guess you
could help me a bit if you only chose to," he went on, his voice
curiously gruff and unready, "but you won't, you won't even look at me.
I suppose those great grey eyes of yours hate the sight of me, and I am
a damned fool to put my heart into words. But I have got to," she heard
him move close to her and how quickly he was breathing, "I love you, you
pale, thin slip of a girl, I want you as a wife, will you marry me?"

The silence when he had finished speaking lay heavy between them. Mabel
let him take her hand, though the moist warmth of his gave her a little
shudder of aversion, but by no strength of will could she lift her eyes
to look at him. She stood as immovable as a statue and the man, watching
her from out of his small shrewd eyes, smiled a little bitterly.

"You hate the thought like poison," he said, "yet you don't throw off my
hand or yell out your 'No.' Something is in the balance then. Well,
marry me for my money, Mabel. I had rather it were love, but if there is
anything about me that can win you, I am not going to give you u