"I have not had time to tell him yet," said the doctor, recovering himself; and taking the little lady's hand, he led her to the chair he had vacated, closed the door, and then stood between brother and sister. "I have not had time to tell him yet, my dear Miss Rosebury, but I have been saying to him that it would be so satisfactory for you to help me in my charge of those two young ladies." Miss Rosebury started in turn, and coloured slightly. "And now, my dear old friend," said the doctor, "let me ask you, treating you as Mary's nearest relative, will you give your consent to our marriage?" "No, Arthur, you cannot," said the little lady, firmly. "I could not leave you." "But I have an offer to make you, my dear old friend," said the doctor; "the chaplaincy at our station is vacant; will you come out with us and take it? There will be no separation then, and--" He stopped short, for at his words the Reverend Arthur seemed to be galvanised into a new life. He started from his seat, the listless, saddened aspect dropped away, his eyes flashed, and the blood mounted to his cheeks. "Come with you?" he cried. "Chaplaincy? Out there?" It seemed as if he had been blinded by the prospect, for the next moment he covered his face with his hands, and sank back in his seat without a word. "I knew it!" cried little Miss Rosebury, in reproachful tones; and, leaving her chair, she clung to her brother's arm. "I told you he could not break up his old home here. No, no, Arthur, dear Arthur, it is all a foolish dream! I do not wish to leave you--I could not leave you. Henry Bolter, pray--pray go," she said, piteously, as she turned to the doctor. "We both love you dearly as our truest friend; but you place upon us burdens that we cannot bear. Oh, why--why did you come to thus disturb our peace? Arthur, dear brother, I will not go away!" "Hush! hush, Mary!" the curate said, from behind his hands. "Let me think. You do not know. I cannot bear it yet!" "My dear old Arthur," began the doctor. "Let me think, Harry, let me think," he said, softly. "No, no, don't think!" cried the little lady, almost angrily. "You shall not sacrifice yourself for my sake! I will not be the means of dragging you from your peaceful happy home--the home you love--and from the people who love you for your gentle ways! Henry Bolter, am I to think you cruel and selfish instead of our kind old friend?" "No, no, my dear Mary!" cried the doctor, excitedly. "Selfish? Well, perhaps I am, but--" "Hush!" said the curate softly; and again, "let me think." A silence fell upon the little group, and the chirping of the birds in the pleasant country garden was all that broke that silence for many minutes to come.