“The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have met openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my fault, not yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward any longer. Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say you'll marry me and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night--Yes, from the pulpit, if you say so.” She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation. “Say it,” he pleaded. “You WILL say it?” “I can't! I can't! My uncle--” “Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll tell him myself. He worships you.” “Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had rather see me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular minister.” “I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then you shouldn't humor such bigotry.” “He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father.” “I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. Come, dear! come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider your own happiness. Consider mine.” She looked at him. “I am considering yours,” she said. “That is what I consider most of all. And, as for uncle, I know--I KNOW he would never consent. His heart is set on something else. Nat--” “Nat? Are you considering him, too? Is HE to stand between us? What right has he to say--” “Hush! hush! He hasn't said anything. But--but he and uncle have quarreled, just a little. I didn't tell you, but they have. And I think I know the reason. Nat is Uncle Eben's idol. If the quarrel should grow more serious, I believe it would break his heart. I couldn't bear to be the cause of that; I should never forgive myself.” “You the cause? How could you be the cause of a quarrel between those two? Grace, think of me.” Here was the selfishness of man and the unselfishness of woman answered. “John,” she said, “it is of you I am thinking. Everything else could--might be overcome, perhaps. But I must think of your future and your life. I MUST. That is why--” He did not wait to hear more. He seized her in his arms and kissed her. “Then you DO care!” he cried joyfully. “You will marry me?” For an instant she lay quiet in his embrace, receiving, if not responding to his caresses. Then she gently but firmly freed herself. He saw that there were tears in her eyes. “Grace,” he urged, “don't--don't hesitate any longer. You were meant to be my wife. We were brought together for just that. I know it. Come.” She was crying softly. “Won't you?” he begged. “I don't know,” she sobbed. “Oh, I don't know! I must think--I MUST! Wait, please wait, John. Perhaps by to-morrow I can answer. I'll try--I'll try. Don't ask me again, now. Let me think. Oh, do!” Doubtless he would have asked her again. He looked as if he meant to. But just then, drifting through the twilight and the mist, came the sound of a bell, the bell of the Regular church, ringing for the Sunday evening meeting. They both heard it.