On
returning from church he insisted that Alice should again accompany
him, telling her specially that he desired to speak to her. "My dear
child," he said, "I have been thinking a great deal about you, and
you ought to get married."

"Well, sir, perhaps I shall some day."

"Not if you quarrel with all your suitors," said the old man. "You
quarrelled with your cousin George, and now you have quarrelled with
Mr Grey. You'll never get married, my dear, if you go on in that
way."

"Why should I be married more than Kate?"

"Oh, Kate! I don't know that anybody wants to marry Kate. I wish
you'd think of what I say. If you don't get married before long,
perhaps you'll never get married at all. Gentlemen won't stand that
kind of thing for ever."

The two girls took a slice of cake each in her hand, and started on
their walk. "We shan't be able to get to the lake," said Kate.

"No," said Alice; "but we can go as far as the big stone on Swindale
Fell, where we can sit down and see it."

"Do you remember the last time we sat there?" said Kate. "It is
nearly three years ago, and it was then that you told me that all was
to be over between you and George. Do you remember what a fool I was,
and how I screamed in my sorrow? I sometimes wonder at myself and my
own folly. How is it that I can never get up any interest about my
own belongings? And then we got soaking wet through coming home."

"I remember that very well."

"And how dark it was! That was in September, but we had dined early.
If we go as far as Swindale we shall have it very dark coming home
to-day;--but I don't mind that through the Beacon Wood, because I
know my way so well. You won't be afraid of half an hour's dark?"

"Oh, no," said Alice.

"Yes; I do remember that day. Well; it's all for the best, I suppose.
And now I must read you my aunt's letter." Then, while they were
still in the wood, Kate took out the letter from her aunt and read
it, while they still walked slowly up the hill. It seemed that
hitherto neither of her two suitors had brought the widow to terms.
Indeed, she continued to write of Mr Cheesacre as though that
gentleman were inconsolable for the loss of Kate, and gave her niece
much serious advice as to the expedience of returning to Norfolk,
in order that she might secure so eligible a husband. "You must
understand all the time, Alice," said Kate, pausing as she read the
letter, "that the dear man has never given me the slightest gro