Ether was amazed. She had believed that Mr. Langdon simply admired her, as he did a score of others. She was too young and unworldly to weigh for a moment the advantages of position offered. He said he loved her, and that was what her heart hungered for. Nobody had told her so since her mother died. The tide of her feelings began to turn. How kind and good he seemed. How could she ever have thought him otherwise? Then she found herself in a whirl of thought. She was so very grateful to him, but how could she marry anybody? Not for a great many years yet, at least. Of course she must marry somebody—an orphan girl like her. Perhaps she was beginning to care for him, for her feelings toward him had changed within a few minutes. Still, it was all so different from what she had thought it would be when that time should come in which somebody brave and true would say these words to her. Was he brave and true? Was he? Oh! If she had not to settle a great question. It frightened her, and she was not glad, as she had dreamed she would be, nor happy as girls in books were; but real life was never quite up to books and stories, and Aunt Maria and Sophy would never forgive her if she refused him, and—and—he said he loved her. What should she say to him, sitting there looking down at her, waiting for her answer? What could she say? "O, mother! What would you have me say?" She made a lovely picture in the large chair before the fire, its light glancing on her hair, her head leaning on her hand, the face sweet and serious, like a troubled child's, and the eyes almost tearful. Mr. Langdon resolved to have her painted in just that attitude immediately. Her hesitation and long silence did not in the least annoy him; he attributed it to maiden coyness. It almost amused him, he felt so sure of her. It never entered his mind that she could refuse him, or, indeed, that anybody could. And she did not; she promised she would be his wife—when one hour before the thought of such a thing had never come into her heart. So lightly and hastily are lifelong covenants entered into! Mr. Langdon was ten years older than Esther. He had always fancied that he should choose a wife much younger than himself, it would be so delightful to mould her unformed nature; in short, to make her over to suit himself. So he set himself to the pleasant task at once. He had not tact enough to wait until he had won the right, as he would say.