His cheeks grew crimson, and so did hers. A cry of anger and shame and confusion came from her breast. She stamped her foot impatiently on the ground. “You would never, never have ventured to ask me, never, if I had not been helpless and friendless and poor!” “No,” he said again, with a simplicity in which she could not help feeling a certain nobleness. “I would not have ventured, for I am not what you call a gentleman; but when I heard you were in trouble, I could not keep silent. I thought to myself, Miss Lottie shall not be unhappy because of having no home to go to----” “Oh!” said Lottie, putting out her hand to stop him. She could not bear any more. Her heart was sick with the mortification of such a suit. She could have crushed and trampled upon her humble lover, in rage and shame, and yet she could not but see the generosity and truth in his heart. If he had been less worthy, it would have been less hard upon her. “It is not a thing that can be,” she cried hastily. “Oh, don’t say another word. I know you are kind, but it is not a thing that can be.” “Not now?” he said, looking at her wistfully; “well: but perhaps another time? perhaps when you need it more--I am not in any hurry. Perhaps I am young to marry; the Signor thinks so. But another time, Miss Lottie? Whenever you want me, you have but to say the word.” “Oh, don’t think of it. I will never, never say the word. Forget it altogether, Mr. Purcell. I am very, very much obliged to you, but indeed it can never be.” The young man’s countenance fell. Then he recovered himself. “I can’t think you are taking everything into consideration. We should have a nice home, plenty of everything, and I should never spare trouble to give you everything you were used to----” “Oh, go away, go away!” she cried. And as they stood there, some one else, his shadow slowly moving before him, came round the corner of the pathway, among the chestnut-trees; and Purcell felt that his opportunity was over. He was not sorry for it. He had done what was set before him, and if he had not succeeded, he was not discouraged. There was still hope for another time. CHAPTER XIX. BUSINESS, OR LOVE?