"No—that is—not particularly," he replied, with a confused look. Then suddenly, as if recollecting himself, he added, "I have been thinking, my dear Miss Russell, how much happier I should be with a good wife to look after me, and care for all my wants; and I have seen no woman I should so much like to make my wife as—you! And what I want to ask is, whether you are willing to accept me for a husband? I am a plain man, with very little polish on me, and know very little of the arts by which a girl’s love is usually won; but if you will consent to be my wife, I think I can promise to make you a good husband, and I don’t think you will ever have any cause to regret it." Rough and ill-considered as such a proposal may seem to have been, when presented in so plain and unadorned a manner, it was given utterance to in a speech longer than ever he had been known to indulge in, and there was an apparent ring of honesty and truthfulness about it which, notwithstanding all its deficiencies, struck Jessie as being real. Therefore, although her feeling for the man was one of repulsion, which somehow she was unable to overcome, she repressed the strong impulse which at first manifested itself, to laugh at him, and ridicule the idea, by quietly, but firmly, replying that under no circumstances could she be induced to entertain the idea for a moment. "May I ask why?" stammered out Charles. "Well," she replied, "I have no present desire to get married." "Don’t you like me well enough?" he asked. "Not well enough to marry you," was her prompt and candid reply. "Perhaps you like someone better?" he added. "And if I did, would there be anything very surprising in that?" she replied. "No," he managed to get out after a pause; adding, "especially if it is the one I imagine it is." "I don’t see what right you have to imagine anything at all about it," was Jessie’s spirited reply. "The right is that which belongs to every man or woman to warn another of a danger." "I don’t understand you, sir." "If you are thinking of the man I suppose you are——" "Sir!" she exclaimed with some vehemence, interrupting him, "your language is insulting, and if my father were here you would not dare address me in the manner you are doing." "At the risk of what you may think of it, I will still say," he went on, "that the man I refer to is a worthless, dishonest scoundrel, not fit to be the companion of any honest woman." "I know nothing about the person, nor who it is you are referring to, nor do I wish to know; but this you may as well know, that I am quite capable of defending my own honour as to the company I may be disposed to keep, and any defence I may require beyond that my father is able and ready to afford me. Good evening, sir!" saying which, she rose, entered the house, and, closing the door, left Barton much chagrined at the reception he had received, and the complete failure of his fondly cherished scheme.