"Oh, Luke, Luke," she cried, "don't talk like that!" "I must. I have had another talk with your uncle. This morning I overtook him, and he asked me, as a man, whom he says he can trust, to set aside all love-making, as he called it in his homely Saxon-English, and to treat you only as a friend! `Let matters stand for the present, and see what a couple of years bring forth, if you are doing well,' he said, `in your new position.'" "In your new position, Luke? Why, what do you mean?" "Sage, dear, I have decided to set aside the idea of being the master of a school." "Oh, Luke!" "And to read for the bar." "Read for the bar?" "Yes, read for the bar: become a barrister; and I shall work hard to win a name." "But the school, Luke--the training college. It is not honest to take advantage of their teaching, gain all you can, and then take to some other career." "You think that?" he said, smiling. "Yes, of course," she said, indignantly. "The principal at Westminster spoke very warmly about two of the students giving up their schools directly, and taking situations as governesses in good families." "I quite agree with her," said Luke, quietly; "and I have appraised the cost to the institution at fifty pounds. That sum I feel bound to send. It is quite as much as so bad a master as I should have turned out is worth." "Oh, Luke, that is nonsense," she cried, as she looked proudly in his face. "Nay," he said, "it is truth. And now listen to me. This has all been very sudden." "Yes, and you never said a word to me." "I came and told you as soon as I knew," retorted Luke, firmly. "And now I say once more this has been very sudden, but it is irrevocably in obedience to your uncle's wishes. I shall exact no promises from you, tie you down in no way, but go away in perfect faith that in a few years as the reward of my hard struggle, and when I can go and say to your uncle, `See, here, I can command the income you said that I ought to have!' you will be my little wife." "But must you go away, Luke?" she said, with a pitiful look in her eyes. "Yes, it is absolutely certain. How could I climb up in the world if I stayed here?" "But I don't want you to go," she cried, excitedly. "And I don't want to leave you," he said, fondly. "I want you to stop and protect me, and take care of me and keep me for yours, Luke." "Don't--don't talk like that," he cried, speaking hoarsely, "or you will make me forget my promise to your uncle. Let us be firm and true, and look the matter seriously in the face. It is for our future, and I pray and believe that I am acting wisely here." "But you will be away," she said, with a piteous look in her eyes. "There will be no one to take care of me when you are gone." "Nonsense, little one," he exclaimed. "There is your uncle. What have you to fear? Only be true to me." "Oh, yes, yes," she sobbed; "but you do not know, Luke. I might be tempted, I might be led away from you--I might--"