"Yes, they know it; and they wish it, for we have quietly discussed the matter, and," he added, with a sad smile, "I have not omitted to point out to them how unsuited to you I am as a match. I throw myself then upon your mercy, Marie, but you must not let fear influence you; I must have your heart, my child, given over to my safe-keeping." She looked at him wildly. "Is this hand to be mine?" he whispered. "Will you make the rest of my days blessed with your young love? Tell me, is it to be?" "Oh, no, no, no, Lord Henry," she said, in a low, excited tone; "I could not, I dare not say yes. Pray, pray do not ask me." "Shall I give you time?" he whispered; "shall I wait a week--a month, for your answer, and then come again and plead?" "Oh, no, no, no," she said; "I could--I never could say yes. I like you, Lord Henry, I respect and esteem you--indeed, indeed I do; but I could not become your wife." "You could not become my wife," he said softly. "No, no, I suppose not. It was another foolish dream, and I should have been wiser. But you will not ridicule me when I am gone? I ask you to try and think of the old man's love with respect, even if it is mingled with pity, for, believe me, my child, it is very true and honest." "Ridicule! oh, no, no," cried Marie eagerly, "I could not do that. You ask me to be your wife, Lord Henry: I cannot, but I have always felt that I loved you as--like--" "You might say a father or some dear old friend?" said Lord Henry sadly. "Yes, indeed yes!" she cried. "Be it so, then," he said, holding her hand in his in a sad, resigned way. "You are right; it is impossible. Your young verdant spring and my frosted winter would be ill matched. But let me go on loving you--if not as one who would be your husband, as a very faithful friend." "Yes, yes, please, Lord Henry," she said; "I have so few friends." "Then you shall not lose me for one," he continued sadly. "There, there, the little dream is over, and I am awake again. See here, Marie," he said, drawing a diamond and sapphire ring from his pocket, "this was to be your engaged ring: I am going to place it on your finger now as a present from the dear old friend." She shrank from him, but he retained her hand gently, and she felt the ring glide over her finger, a quick glance showing her that her aunts were seeing everything from behind the books they were reading, becoming deeply immersed, though, as they saw how far matters seemed to have progressed. Mr Elbraham's wooing was moulded far differently to Lord Henry's. It was an understood thing that he was to propose that evening, the dinner being given for the purpose.