"Yes! I'm afraid it is not very wise, but I wanted to finish the chapter; and my eyes are really very strong." "I thought you might be at church," said Diamond, seating himself on the opposite side of the bay-window, and within its recess, "so I asked the maid to get me the book I wanted. But she sent me upstairs." "Aunt Betty is at church, and James; but father wouldn't let me go. He said it was so raw and foggy, and I had been to church this morning." "Yes; I saw you there. But have you not been well, that your father did not wish you to go out?" "Oh yes; I'm very well, thank you. But I had a little cold last week; and I should have had to walk to St. Chad's and back, you know. Father doesn't think it right to drive on the Lord's day, so he made me stay at home." "How very right of him! What were you reading?" He drew a little nearer to her as he asked the question, and looked at the book she held. "Oh, it's a Sunday book," said Rhoda, simply. "'The Pilgrim's Progress.' I like it very much." "I wonder whether you will care to hear of some good news I had to-day?" "Oh yes; I shall be very glad to hear it." "I think I stand a good chance of getting the head-mastership of Dorrington Proprietary School. Dorrington is in the next county, you know." "Oh! I'm very glad." "It would be a very good position. I am not certain of it yet, you know; but Dr. Bodkin has been very friendly, and has promised to canvass the governing committee for me." "Oh! I'm very glad indeed." "I don't know yet myself whether I am very glad or not." "Don't you?" Rhoda looked up at him in genuine surprise; but her eyes fell before the answering look they encountered, and she blushed from brow to chin. "No; it all depends on you, Rhoda, whether I am glad of it to the bottom of my heart, or whether I give it all up as a thing not worth striving for." There was a pause, which Rhoda broke at length, because the silence embarrassed her unendurably. "Oh, I don't think it can depend upon me, Mr. Diamond," she said, speaking in a little quivering voice that was barely audible; whilst, at the same time, she hurriedly turned over the pages of "The Pilgrim's Progress" with her eyes fixed on them, although she assuredly did not see one letter. Diamond gently drew the book from her hand and took the hand in his own. "Yes, Rhoda," he said--and, having once called her so, his lips seemed to dwell lovingly on the sound of her name--"I think you do know! You must know that, if I look forward hopefully and happily to anything in my future life, it is only because I have a hope that you may be able to love me a little. I love you so much." She trembled violently, but did not withdraw her hand from his clasp. She sat quite still with downcast eyes, neither moving nor looking to the right or the left. "Rhoda! Rhoda! Won't you say one word to me?" "I'm trying--thinking what I ought to say,'" she answered, almost in a whisper. "Is it so difficult, Rhoda?"