She bent and kissed me as she spoke, and I kissed her beautiful hand. "Oh, my dear Lady!" I said, out of the fulness of my heart, "if I could only do anything to return or requite your goodness to me!" "Then I will tell you what you may do," said she, smiling. "I am going to spend the day at Corby-End with my cousins, and you may take the opportunity to look over all my laces and lay out those which-need repairing. The work is too fine for Brewster's eyes, and I know you love to do it. Bring Betty in here and let her superintend the operation." I knew Betty would be delighted with the change, and I was glad to hear that I need not meet my Lord for one day, at least. So Betty and I spent the morning very comfortably, and I got quite cooled down over the laces, and was able to look at the matter reasonably. I am ashamed now to think how foolishly I behaved, and how absurd it was in me to be so angry with poor Mr. Penrose. I am sure it was kind of him to think of me. All the same, I would never marry him if there were not another man in all the world. I only hope he will take my Lady's word for it, and not desire to see me himself. _August 8._ It turned out as my Lady said. Mr. Penrose would not be satisfied without talking with me himself, and trying to move my resolution. He used many arguments, as the advantage to my family, my having such a pleasant home near to my Lady, chances of usefulness in the parish, and so on, till at last I lost patience a little, and said: "Mr. Penrose, you are but wasting your breath. If I loved you as I am sure a woman ought to love the man she marries, I should need none of these persuasions, and as I love you not, they are all thrown away." "You think, then, that I could not make you happy?" said he. "I know I am faulty, and that you have often seen me peevish, but I would do my best, Margaret." "I don't doubt you would," I answered him. "As for your faults, if I loved you at all, I know I should love you none the less for them, but perhaps all the more. But I have seen married life—only from the outside, 'tis true—and I am sure the trials of temper which come in the happiest marriage, would be too much for me, unless I—Well, the whole of the matter is, Mr. Penrose, I cannot think of it. I am sorry if I have been to blame, but I do assure you solemnly that till my Lady broke it to me, I no more thought of your wanting me, than I did of being Queen of England." "You have not been to blame," said Mr. Penrose, abruptly. "Nothing is to be blamed but my own miserable folly in thinking that one such as you could ever fancy such a lout as I am."