"My dear," she said quietly, "in marriage there should be neither a master nor a mistress. It's a sublime co-partnership, and the partners are equal. One supplies what the other lacks, and two incomplete persons are required to make one perfect being." Lister opened his brown eyes. "Who told you all this?" "No one. I have ample time to think, and--I think." "You asked me to be quiet, so that you could think," he remarked lazily; "may I ask what you have been considering?" She surveyed him quietly. "You may ask; but I am not sure if I will reply." "See here, my dearest"--Cyril struggled to his knees, and took her hand firmly within his own--"you are altogether too independent a young woman. You always want your own way, I perceive." "It will never clash with yours," said Bella, smiling. "Why not?" "Because you will always wish to do what I desire, and I will always be anxious to act as you indicate. You have your line of life, and I have mine, but the two are one." "Humph! At school I learned that two parallel straight lines never met." "Ah, Euclid was a bachelor, and ignorant. They meet in marriage, for then the two lines blend into one. What's the matter?" She asked this question because Cyril suddenly let go her hands and swerved, blinking his eyes rapidly. "A sudden flash almost blinded me. Some one is heliographing hereabouts." He stood up, considerably taller than the already tall corn, and stared in the direction of the manor, shading his eyes with one slim hand. "There's someone on the roof there and----" Bella pulled the sleeve of his coat, with a stifled cry. "Oh, sit down, do sit down," she implored. "It must be my father on his quarter-deck. The flash, perhaps, came from his telescope, and if he sees you--do sit down." Cyril laughed and relapsed into a sitting position. "Dearest, your father cannot harm me in any way. I have heard of his quarter-deck. I suppose he has it to remind him of the bridge of a steamer when he was skipper." "I hope he hasn't seen you," said Bella anxiously, "for then he would come straight here, and----" "Let him come, and then I shall ask him to let me marry you." "He will refuse. He wants me to marry Mr. Pence." "What!" Lister frowned. "That half-baked psalm-singer? What nonsense, and what cheek. The idea of that Pence creature aspiring to your hand. I wish we could marry at once. But----" He paused, and shook his head. Lines appeared on his forehead, and a vexed look in his eyes. "It's impossible," he said with a deep breath. "Why is it impossible?" asked Bella imperiously and very directly. "My dear, I am very poor, and just make enough to keep my head above water. Besides, there is another reason." "What is it?" "I can't tell you," he said in low voice, and becoming suddenly pale; "no one but the wearer knows where the shoe pinches, you know."