Her sobbing had now become so violent that she did not any longer try to conceal her emotion.

“Dear Miss Madeleine,” said the pastor, seating himself on the sofa at a little distance from her, “I am sure you are not well—­I have observed it for some time; and you may imagine how painful it is for me to see you thus suffering, without having any right to offer you my assistance.”

“You have always been so good to me,” sobbed Madeleine.  “But no one can help me, I am so wretched—­so wretched!”

“Do not indulge such thoughts, my dear young lady; do not allow yourself to think that any feeling of wretchedness is so great that it cannot be mitigated.  Intercourse with the friend who understands our nature has a wonderfully soothing power over the sick heart.  And for that very reason,” added he, with a sigh, “I feel it doubly painful that you will not allow me to be such a friend to you.”

“I cannot,” stammered Madeleine in dismay.  “Do not be angry with me.  I do not mean to be ungrateful.  You are the only one—­But I am so nervous—­I don’t understand it all.  But don’t be angry with me;” and she held her hand a little nearer to him.

Pastor Martens took the hand, and pressed it gently between his own.

“You know I mean to be kind to you, Miss Madeleine,” said he, in an earnest and soothing tone.

“Yes, yes, I know you do.  But do you believe—­” and her eye rested on him with an earnest expression.

“I am afraid your mind is disturbed; but I hope that I may be able to be a trustworthy guide for you through life.  You have been unwilling to accept me, and I will not importune you; but I must tell you that everything I have is at your service.”

“But if I am unable—­but if it is too much for me.  No, I cannot!” she replied, hiding her face in her hands.

His voice was kind, almost fatherly in its tone, as he moved nearer to her and said, “Tell me, Madeleine, do not you feel as if it was almost a dispensation of Providence?  When I asked you for your hand, you rejected my offer hastily—­without consideration, may I venture to say?  That hand now lies in mine.”  She made an attempt to withdraw it, but he held it fast.  “Here are we again brought together.  Is it not as if you were destined to be mine—­you who are so lonely and forsaken amongst your own relations?  You do feel lonely, Madeleine, do you not?”

“Oh yes; I do feel lonely—­so dreadfully lonely,” said she, disconsolately; and whether he now drew her to him, or whether she gave way of herself, she now lay with her head on his shoulder, wearied and helpless.  And, as his voice sounded bland and soothing in her ears, she seemed to recover her breath, as if after a long period of oppression.

In a moment she was on her feet:  he had ventured to kiss her brow.  He also rose, but still retained his grasp of her hand.

“We will not tell any one about it to-day,” he said reassuringly, “because of the affliction which has come upon your family.  But we had better go to Mrs. Garman, and ask her blessing.  With respect to your father——­”