This was more than the poor man could bear. He put up one hand with a wild gesture to stop her, and uttered a hoarse exclamation; but Rose was too much absorbed in her story to stop. “The night before I had gone down into the rectory garden, where he and I used to talk, and there I said good-by to him in my heart, and made a kind of grave over him, and gave him up for ever and ever--oh! don’t you know how?” said Rose, the tears dropping on her black dress. “Then I was willing that it should be settled how you pleased; and I never, never allowed myself to think of him any more. When he came into my head, I went to the school-room, or I took a hard bit of music, or I talked to mamma, or heard Patty her lessons. I would not, because I thought it would be wicked to you, and you so good to me, Mr. Incledon. Oh! if you had only been my brother, or my--cousin (she had almost said, father or uncle, but by good luck forbore), how fond I should have been of you!--and I am fond of you,” said Rose, softly, proffering the hand which he had put away, and laying it gently upon his arm. He shook his head, and made a little gesture as if to put it off, but yet the touch and the words went to his heart. “Now comes the worst of all,” said Rose. “I know it will hurt you, and yet I must tell you. After that there came the news of uncle Ernest’s death; and that he had left his money to us, and that we were well off again--better than we had ever been. Oh, forgive me! forgive me!” she said, clasping his arm with both her hands, “when I heard it, it seemed to me all in a moment that I was free. Mamma said that all the sacrifices we had been making would be unnecessary henceforward; what she meant was the things we had been doing--dusting the rooms, putting the table straight, helping in the house--oh! as if these could be called sacrifices! But I thought she meant me. You are angry--you are angry!” said Rose. “I could not expect anything else. But it was not you, Mr. Incledon; it was that I hated to be married. I could not--could not make up my mind to it. I turned into a different creature when I thought that I was free.” The simplicity of the story disarmed the man, sharp and bitter as was the sting and mortification of listening to this too artless tale. “Poor child! poor child!” he murmured, in a softer tone, unclasping the delicate fingers from his arm; and then, with an effort, “I am not angry. Go on; let me hear it to the end.” “When mamma saw how glad I was, she stopped it all at once,” said Rose, controlling herself. “She said I was just the same as ever--always self-indulgent, thinking of myself, not of others--and that I was as much bound as ever by honor. There was no longer any question of the boys, or of help to the family; but she said honor was just as much to be considered, and that I had pledged my word”-- “Rose,” quietly said Mr. Incledon, “spare me what you can of these discussions--you had pledged your word?”