her day! In the meantime one little word--_the_ word--will
suffice me,--yea, even one little smile,--to show me that you understand
my words,--that you love me"--here he clasped his plump hands together
in flabby ecstasy--"even as you are loved!"

His absurd attitude,--the weak, knock-kneed manner in which his clumsy
legs seemed, from the force of sheer sentiment, to bend under his
weighty body, and the inanely amatory expression of his puffy
countenance, would have excited most women to laughter,--and Thelma was
perfectly conscious of his utterly ridiculous appearance, but she was
too thoroughly indignant to take the matter in a humorous light.

"Love you!" she exclaimed, with a movement of irrepressible loathing.
"You must be mad! I would rather die than marry you!"

Mr. Dyceworthy's face grew livid and his little eyes sparkled
vindictively,--but he restrained his inward rage, and merely smiled,
rubbing his hands softly one against the other.

"Let us be calm!" he said soothingly. "Whatever we do, let us be calm!
Let us not provoke one another to wrath! Above all things, let us, in a
spirit of charity and patience, reason out this matter without undue
excitement. My ears have most painfully heard your last words, which,
taken literally, might mean that you reject my honorable offer. The
question is, _do_ they mean this? I cannot,--I will not believe that you
would foolishly stand in the way of your own salvation,"--and he shook
his head with doleful gentleness. "Moreover, Froeken Thelma, though it
sorely distresses me to speak of it,--it is my duty, as a minister of
the Lord, to remind you that an honest marriage,--a marriage of virtue
and respectability such as I propose, is the only way to restore your
reputation,--which, alas! is sorely damaged, and--"

Mr. Dyceworthy stopped abruptly, a little alarmed, as she suddenly cast
aside the barrier of roses and advanced toward him, her blue eyes
blazing.

"My reputation!" she said haughtily. "Who speaks of it?"

"Oh dear, dear me!" moaned the minister pathetically. "Sad! . . . very
sad to see so ungovernable a temper, so wild and untrained a
disposition! Alas, alas! how frail we are without the Lord's
support,--without the strong staff of the Lord's mercy to lean upon! Not
I, my poor child, not I, but the whole village speaks of you; to you the
ignorant people attribute all the sundry evils that of late have fallen
sorely upon them,--bad harvests, ill-luck with the