The girl on the contrary was poorly dressed and did not seem at home in the presence of the rich man. She wore a pale grey dress trimmed with green velvet. It had seen its best days for it was worn in many places. She wore a straw hat and a white scarf round her neck. She was a lovely girl!! Her plentiful golden hair was coiled into a knob behind and cut in a small fringe in front. Her large blue eyes spoke of many mysteries and were fringed by golden lashes. Her cherry coloured lips were small and pressed together in her nervous state. Her white teeth were clenched and she trembled under the viscious glare of her companion. "I tell you Beatrice you are out of your senses, you must be, there is no doubt of it, how can you refuse such an offer?" said the man fiercely. "Oh Lawrence do listen to me," said the unhappy girl, "it is impossible, it cannot be. You are very kind, and I always had and always shall have a very great respect for you, but I cannot marry you, indeed I cannot! we are no match, I am poor and you are rich. Besides I have a reason for not accepting you for my husband. Oh Lawrence you make me so unhappy!" and here the poor girl stopped short, gave a hurried look round and pressed her hand to her heart. "Beatrice Langton you are a lunatic" cried the man, "give me an answer straight out--yes or no. Will you be my wife? Speak out and dont go jibbering on in that sentimental fashion; say yes and you will live in luxury and riches for the rest of your life, say no and you go home poor and degraded. Now give me an answer Yes or No!" The girl raised her head and spoke thus--"Lawrence I am very sorry to say it but my answer is No! Goodbye Mr. Cathcart, goodbye Lawrence, perhaps we shall never meet again. What? you will not even shake hands! Very well, goodnight Lawrence, goodnight." She turned and went away leaving him in the darkness. CHAPTER 2 BEATRICE LANGTON'S HOME When Beatrice went away she made straight for her home for it was close on nine and her mother would be anxious. Her heart was heavy and her eyelids were wet with fast falling tears as she made her way accross the desolate moor. Presently she came to the stream and after crossing the bridge she made for the common. On the outskirts of the village stood her home. A little brown cottage with carefully trimmed roses and jasmine creeping up the porch and a neat little garden in front. She opened the gate, walked up the path and opened the door.