Instead of taking it, he took herself. Took her in his arms with a cry of long-repressed emotion, and laid her sweet face upon his breast, kissing it with impassioned kisses. Ellen, utterly astonished, could not escape. "Do not shrink from me, Ellen. You are to be my wife." CHAPTER X. A LAST PROPOSAL. Affairs grew more unsatisfactory at Dallory as the weeks went on. The strike continued; the men utterly refusing to return to work except on their own terms, or, rather, the Trades' Union refusing to allow them to do so. Supplies became more scanty. If not actual famine, something near to it began to reign. North Inlet, once so prosperous, looked like a half-starved place out at elbows. Oh, what senseless folly it was! What would it end in? Mrs. Gass had grown tired of going amongst the men to reason with them and try to bring them to their senses; but Miss Dallory still went. Miss Dallory could make no impression whatever. The men were moody, miserable, almost starved. They would gladly have gone back to work again almost on no pay at all, only as a relief to the present idleness; but they belonged to the famous Trades' Union now, and must obey its dictates. Mary Dallory grew angry sometimes, and asked whether they were men, or cravens, that they had no pity for their poor helpless children. One day Mrs. Gass and Miss Dallory went forth together. Not of premeditation. One of Ketler's children was ill and weakly, incipient consumption, Dr. Rane said; she was a sweet little child, mild and gentle; and Miss Dallory would sometimes carry her strengthening things. It was a terrible shame, she would tell Ketler, that he should let even this poor sickly child starve: and Ketler humbly acknowledged to his own heart that the child _was_ starving; and felt it keenly. The man was as well-meaning a man as Heaven ever sent into the world; anxious to do his duty: but he had signed himself a member of the Trades' Union, and was helpless. Miss Dallory wore a print gown, and was altogether a great deal less fine than Jelly. She carried a small basket in her hand, containing fresh eggs. As she passed Mrs. Gass's that lady was standing at her open parlour window, in all the glory of a gorgeous green satin robe, and white bonnet with bird-of-paradise feather. She dearly loved fine clothes, and saw no reason why she should not wear them. "Where be you bound to, my dear?" asked the grandly-dressed lady, as Mary stopped. "I am taking these eggs to little Cissy Ketler. Mrs. Gass, what is to become of all the poor children if this state of things should last much longer?" "I'm sure I don't know. It goes again' the grain to see 'em want; but when we give 'em food or helps it's just so much premium offered to the father's incorrigible obstinacy and idleness, my dear." "But the child is ill," said Mary Dallory. "And so are many other children."