“God’s also found me,” answered Mr. Knox, “and you must weigh me along with everything else. And if, as I see in your face, your inclination is to say ‘no,’ then I beg you’ll not say it—at any rate not this evening. You’re far too nice to decide the future career of a fellow creature, let alone your own, without turning it over fairly in your mind. I didn’t ask you to say ‘yes,’ all of a minute, because this is sprung upon you—you expected no such thing; but though I didn’t count on ‘yes,’ Lydia, I’m equally determined not to hear ‘no.’ So you can think all round it, and I wish you’d got more time to do so. However you’re a fair woman—fair and just to all but yourself—so I very well leave it at that for the present.” “To think a good-looking, clever man like you should have looked at a little every-day woman like me!” she said. “You won’t be every day no more if you’re Mrs. Knox,” he promised. “Far from it. You should go in a carriage and pair if it could be done, and though I can’t promise that, I can promise a nice house, and a bit of garden, and a professed cook to look after the kitchen and do your bidding. Think upon it.” “Don’t hope, however; ’tis a very unlikely thing that I should change my state with so many calls.” “Come to your own conclusions anyway,” he said. “I know what human nature is very well and I know what you are in this house. But don’t let selfishness on the part of other people decide you against me. That would be very unfair to me, and you can’t be unfair to a man that thinks of you as I do.” “I’ll do nothing unfair to you, Mr. Knox. In fact I’ll do nothing at all for the present. My sister-in-law mustn’t hear a word in her weak state, or the consequences might be bad; and my brother’s cast down also, and so am I. In fact trouble’s everywhere.” “Regard me as the silver lining to the cloud then. I quite see it was a bit of a staggerer this coming to-day of all days; but at any rate you know now you’ve got a valuable friend. And such I shall remain, whatever happens. Now, no doubt, you’re itching to get supper for all them brats, so I’ll go my way. And I pray God’s blessing on your thoughts, Lydia—I do indeed.” “Thank you,” she replied. “Yes, you go now. I can’t stand no more, else I shall break down—a thing I’m never known to do. I dare say I’ll see you at the works to-morrow. And don’t say nothing about Medora.” “Trust me,” he answered. “My one hope will be to help you in that quarter if I can. Don’t you despair. It may straighten out yet, though where two men and a woman’s the matter, there’s seldom more than one chance in fifty that things will come right.” CHAPTER XII MEDORA’S NIGHT