"Well, he didn't hit me," said Luke; "but to look at him he seemed mad enough to do anything." Then he told her how at the present moment he was living at the inn, and how it became necessary, from this unfortunate quarrel, that he should go at once to London. "But under no circumstances would I have gone," said he, pressing her hand very closely, "without an answer from you." "But you ought not to think of anything like that when you are in such trouble." "Ought I not? Well, but I do, you see." Then he explained to her that part of his project consisted in his marrying her out of hand,--at once. He would go up to London for a week or two, and then, coming back, be married in the course of the next month. "Oh, Mr. Rowan, that would be impossible." "You must not call me Mr. Rowan, or I shall call you Miss Ray." "But indeed it would be impossible." "Why impossible?" "Indeed it would. You can ask mamma;--or rather, you had better give over thinking of it. I haven't had time yet even to make up my mind what you are like." "But you say that you love me." "So I do, but I suppose I ought not; for I'm sure I don't know what you are like yet. It seems to me that you're very fond of having your own way, sir;--and so you ought," she added; "but really you can't have your own way in that. Nobody ever heard of such a thing. Everybody would think we were mad." "I shouldn't care one straw for that." "Ah, but I should,--a great many straws." He sat there for two hours, telling her of all things appertaining to himself. He explained to her that, irrespective of the brewery, he had an income sufficient to support a wife,--"though not enough to make her a fine lady like Mrs. Cornbury," he said. "If you can give me bread and cheese, it's as much as I have a right to expect," said Rachel. "I have over four hundred a year," said he: and Rachel, hearing it, thought that he could indeed support a wife. Why should a man with four hundred a year want to brew beer? "But I have got nothing," said Rachel; "not a farthing." "Of course not," said Rowan; "it is my theory that unmarried girls never ought to have anything. If they have, they ought to be considered as provided for, and then they shouldn't have husbands. And I rather think it would be better if men didn't have anything either, so that they might be forced to earn their bread. Only they would want capital." Rachel listened to it all with the greatest content, and most unalloyed happiness. She did not quite understand him, but she gathered from his words that her own poverty was not a reproach in his eyes, and that he under no circumstances would have looked for a wife with a fortune. Her happiness was unalloyed at all she heard from him, till at last he spoke of his mother. "And does she dislike me?" asked Rachel, with dismay.