"And I want to know what it was she had been doing today, to put you into that grief." Annabel coloured almost to tears. It was a home question, and brought back all the troubles connected with her position in the house. Whether Mrs. Bede Greatorex had taken a dislike to her, or whether that lady's temper was alone in fault, Miss Channing did not know; but a great deal of petty annoyance was heaped upon her almost daily, sometimes bordering upon cruel insult. Roland, however, was much mistaken if he thought she would admit anything of the kind to him. "I see what it is; you are too generous to say it's true," he observed, after vainly endeavouring to get some satisfactory answer. "You are too good for this house, Annabel, and I only wish I could take you out of it." "Oh, thank you," she said with a quiet smile, not in the least suspecting his meaning. "And into one of my own." "One of your own?" The remark was elicited from her in simple surprise. She looked up at Roland. "Yes, one of mine. But for bringing you to the fate of Gerald's wife, I'd marry you tomorrow, Annabel." In spite of the matter-of-fact, earnest tone in which he spoke, almost as if he were asserting he'd take a voyage in the clouds but for its impossibility, Annabel was covered with confusion. "Some one else's consent would have to be obtained to that bargain," she said in a hesitating, lame kind of way, as she bent her head low over a tangle in the red sewing-silk. "Some one else's consent! You don't mean to say you'd not marry me, Annabel!" "I don't say I would." Roland looked fierce. "You couldn't perjure yourself; you _couldn't_, Annabel; don't you know what you always said--that you'd be my wife?" "But I was only a senseless little child then." "I don't care if you were. I mean it to be carried out. Why, Annabel, who else in the world, but you, do you suppose I'd marry?" Annabel did not say. Her fingers were working quickly to finish the curtain. "I can tell you I am looking forward to it if you are not. I vowed to Hamish tonight that you should not stay here another day if I could--good evening, sir." Mr. Greatorex, returning to the room, looked a little surprised to see a gentleman in it, who rose to receive him. Recognising Roland, he greeted him civilly. "Is it you, Mr. Yorke? Do you want me?" "No, sir. Coming down from the kick-up, I met Jenny, who said Miss Channing was here; so I turned in to see her. She's as unhappy in this house as she can be, Mr. Greatorex; folks have tempers, you know; and in catching a glimpse of her face today, I saw it red with grief and tears. Look at her eyes now, sir. So I came to say that if I could help it by taking her out and marrying her, she should not be here another day. I was saying it when you came in, Mr. Greatorex." To hear the single-minded young fellow avow this, standing there in his earnest simplicity, in his great height, was something to laugh at. But Mr. Greatorex detected the rare good-feeling.