“Well, then,” said he, “I do say it, and I suppose that means I must urge you no more about poor Talboys.” A shower of kisses descended upon him that moment. Moral: Lose no time in sealing a good bargain. “Come, now, Lucy, you must do me a favor.” “Oh, thank you! thank you! what is it?” “Ah! but it is about Talboys too.” “Never mind,” faltered Lucy, “if it is anything short of--” (full stop). “It is a long way short of that. Look here, Lucy, I must tell you the truth. He intends to ask your hand himself: he confided this to me, but he never authorized me to commit him as I have done, so that this conversation cannot be acted on: it must be a secret between you and me.” “Oh, dear! and I thought I had got rid of him so nicely.” “Don't be alarmed,” groaned Fountain; “such matches as this can always be dropped; the difficulty is to bring them on. All I ask of you, then, is not to make mischief between me and my friend, the proudest man in England. If you don't value his friendship, I do. You must not let him know I have got him insulted by a refusal. For instance, you had better go out sailing with him to-morrow as if nothing had passed. Will your affection for me carry you as far as that?” The proposal was wormwood to Lucy. So she smiled and said eagerly: “Is that all? Why, I will do it with pleasure, dear. It is not like being in the same boat with him for life, you know. Can you give me nothing more than that to do for you?” “No; it does not do to test people's affection too severely. You have shown me that. Go on with your walk, Lucy. I shall go in.” “May I not come with you?” “No; my head aches with all this; if I don't mind I shall eat no dinner. Agitation and vexation, don't agree with me. I have carefully avoided them all my life. I must go in and lie down for an hour”; and he left her rather abruptly. She looked after him; her subtle eye noticed directly that he walked a little more feebly than usual. She ascribed this to his disappointment, justly perhaps, for at his age the body has less elastic force to resist a mental blow. The sight of him creeping away disappointed, and leaning heavier than usual on his stick, knocked at her cool but affectionate heart. She began to cry bitterly. When he was quite out of sight, she turned and paced the gravel slowly and sadly. It was new to her to refuse her uncle anything, still more strange to have to refuse him a serious wish. She was prepared, thoroughly prepared, for the proposal, but not to find the old man's heart so deeply set upon it. A wild impulse came over her to call him back and sacrifice herself; but the high spirit and intelligence that lay beneath her tenderness and complaisance stood firm. Yet she felt almost guilty, and very, very unhappy, as we call it at her age. She kept sighing; “Poor uncle!” and paced the gravel very slowly, hanging her sweet head, and crying as she went.