was a long straggling meadow which he knew well, with the Dill running by it all the way,—­or rather two meadows with an open space where there had once been a gate.  He had ridden through the gap a score of times, and knew that at the further side of the second meadow they would come upon the high road.  The fields were certainly much better for his purpose than the road.  “Don’t you think, Mary, you could say a kind word to me?”

“I never said anything unkind.”

“You can’t think ill of me for loving you better than all the world.”

“I don’t think ill of you at all.  I think very well of you.”

“That’s kind.”

“So I do.  How can I help thinking well of you, when I’ve never heard anything but good of you?”

“Then why shouldn’t you say at once that you’ll have me, and make me the happiest man in all the county?”

“Because—­”

“Well!”

“I told you before, Mr. Twentyman, and that ought to have been enough.  A young woman doesn’t fall in love with every man that she thinks well of.  I should like you as well as all the rest of the family if you would only marry some other girl,”

“I shall never do that.”

“Yes you will;—­some day.”

“Never.  I’ve set my heart upon it, and I mean to stick to it.  I’m not the fellow to turn about from one girl to another.  What I want is the girl I love.  I’ve money enough and all that kind of thing of my own.”

“I’m sure you’re disinterested, Mr. Twentyman.”

“Yes, I am.  Ever since you’ve been home from Bragton it has been the same thing, and when I felt that it was so, I spoke up to your father honestly.  I haven’t been beating about the bush, and I haven’t done anything that wasn’t honourable.”  They were very near the last stile now.  “Come, Mary, if you won’t make me a promise, say that you’ll think of it”

“I have thought of it, Mr. Twentyman, and I can’t make you any other answer.  I dare say I’m very foolish.”

“I wish you were more foolish.  Perhaps then you wouldn’t be so hard to please.”

“Whether I’m wise or foolish, indeed, indeed, it’s no good your going on.  Now we’re on the road.  Pray go back home, Mr. Twentyman.”

“It’ll be getting dark in a little time.”

“Not before we’re in Dillsborough.  If it were ever so dark we could find our way home by ourselves.  Come along, Dolly.”

Over the last stile he had stayed a moment to help the younger girl, and as he did so Kate whispered a word in his ear.  “She’s angry because she couldn’t go up to the house with that stuck-up fellow.”  It was a foolish word; but then Kate Masters had not had much experience in the world.  Whether overcome by Mary’s resolute mode of speaking, or aware that the high road would not suit his purpose, he did turn back as soon as he had seen them a little way on their return towards the town.  He had not gone half a mile before he met Morton,