He was too cunning a man--too well versed in human nature--to attempt heroics with such a girl as Rhoda, and there was no enraptured catching of hands, no falling upon one knee, no passionate adjuration. Tregenna began by telling her that he had her father's consent, and that he only wanted hers. That for years past he had loved her with a patient, growing love, which now permeated--he said permeated--his very being, and that it was his only desire that she should become his wife. As he spoke he held ready in one hand a very handsome diamond hoop ring, which was to be the token of their betrothal, for he felt no doubt upon the subject. Rhoda might make a little demur, and be a bit distant and coquettish, but he felt sure that she had been well schooled by her father, and she was just the woman to become his wife. She attracted him with her handsome face and fine _svelte_ figure; she would look well at the head of his table; she would give him position; and, what was more, her father was very wealthy, and that wealth must finally come to him. Rhoda caught a glimpse of the ring in his hand, for as he fidgeted it about a ray flashed from it betraying its presence, and she knew what it was, for her lips tightened, and a hard look came into her eyes. At last he was silent, and waiting her reply. It was a hard task, but she was now well strung up, and turning to him quietly, she said,-- "Don't you think, Mr Tregenna, that it is necessary in such a case for there to exist a mutual feeling of attachment?" There was something so terribly cold and matter-of-fact in this-- something, so to speak, so ungirlish--that it came upon Tregenna like a thunder-clap; but he was equal to the emergency. "No," he said eagerly; "certainly not, if the lady has no prior attachment, which you, dear Rhoda, I am sure, have not." "No, Mr Tregenna, I certainly have not," she replied, quietly. "It is only necessary," he exclaimed, "that the man should love. The love of the woman will grow." "I do not agree with you, Mr Tregenna," she replied, quietly. "But, my dearest Rhoda--" "Mr Tregenna," she said firmly, "let us understand one another at once. From a feeling of respect for my father's friend I have heard you to the end, and my respect for you has grown as I have noticed the gentlemanly manner in which you have made known to me your unfortunate attachment." "Unfortunate?" he exclaimed, looking at her almost stunned. "Yes, unfortunate; because I must tell you frankly, Mr Tregenna, that I cannot give you the slightest hope." "My dear Rhoda," he exclaimed, "you mistake me. I do not ask you to be my wife now, but by-and-by. I only ask for time." "Time can make no difference, Mr Tregenna," said Rhoda, firmly; "and I have to ask you now, as a gentleman, to accept my refusal of your suit. Once, Mr Tregenna, for all, I can never become your wife." "Then you do love some one else," he cried, his rage for the moment mastering him.