"There is no other preference," she answered. And then again they were silent for a minute or two. "My uncle will be much grieved at this," he said at last. "If that be all," said Bell, "I do not think that we need either of us trouble ourselves. He can have no right to dispose of our hearts." "I understand the taunt, Bell." "Dear Bernard, there was no taunt. I intended none." "I need not speak of my own grief. You cannot but know how deep it must be. Why should I have submitted myself to this mortification had not my heart been concerned? But that I will bear, if I must bear it--" And then he paused, looking up at her. "It will soon pass away," she said. "I will accept it at any rate without complaint. But as to my uncle's feelings, it is open to me to speak, and to you, I should think, to listen without indifference. He has been kind to us both, and loves us two above any other living beings. It's not surprising that he should wish to see us married, and it will not be surprising if your refusal should be a great blow to him." "I shall be sorry--very sorry." "I also shall be sorry. I am now speaking of him. He has set his heart upon it; and as he has but few wishes, few desires, so is he the more constant in those which he expresses. When he knows this, I fear that we shall find him very stern." "Then he will be unjust." "No; he will not be unjust. He is always a just man. But he will be unhappy, and will, I fear, make others unhappy. Dear Bell, may not this thing remain for a while unsettled? You will not find that I take advantage of your goodness. I will not intrude it on you again,--say for a fortnight,--or till Crosbie shall be gone." "No, no, no," said Bell. "Why are you so eager in your noes? There can be no danger in such delay. I will not press you,--and you can let my uncle think that you have at least taken time for consideration." "There are things as to which one is bound to answer at once. If I doubted myself, I would let you persuade me. But I do not doubt myself, and I should be wrong to keep you in suspense. Dear, dearest Bernard, it cannot be; and as it cannot be, you, as my brother, would bid me say so clearly. It cannot be." As she made this last assurance, they heard the steps of Lily and her lover close to them, and they both felt that it would be well that their intercourse should thus be brought to a close. Neither had known how to get up and leave the place, and yet each had felt that nothing further could then be said. "Did you ever see anything so sweet and affectionate and romantic?" said Lily, standing over them and looking at them. "And all the while we have been so practical and worldly. Do you know, Bell, that Adolphus seems to think we can't very well keep pigs in London. It makes me so unhappy." "It does seem a pity," said Crosbie, "for Lily seems to know all about pigs."