the man had already, by his own capacities in that direction, forced her heart from her but because he was one likely to be at all points a good husband.  Had all this affair concerned any other girl, any friend of her own, and had she known all the circumstances of the case, she would have had no hesitation in recommending that other girl to marry Mr Glascock.  A girl thrown out upon the world without a shilling must make her hay while the sun shines.  But, nevertheless, there was something within her bosom which made her long for a better thing than this.  She had dreamed, if she had not thought, of being able to worship a man; but she could hardly worship Mr Glascock.  She had dreamed, if she had not thought, of leaning upon a man all through life with her whole weight, as though that man had been specially made to be her staff, her prop, her support, her wall of comfort and protection.  She knew that if she were to marry Mr Glascock and become Lady Peterborough, in due course she must stand a good deal by her own strength, and live without that comfortable leaning.  Nevertheless, when she found herself alone with the man, she by no means knew whether she would refuse him or not.  But she knew that she must pluck up courage for an important moment, and she collected herself, braced her muscles, as it were, for a fight, and threw her mind into an attitude of contest.

Mr Glascock, as soon as the door was shut behind Mrs Trevelyan’s back, took a chair and placed it close beside the head of the sofa on which Nora was sitting.  ‘Miss Rowley,’ he said, ’you and I have known each other now for some months, and I hope you have learned to regard me as a friend.’

‘Oh, yes, indeed,’ said Nora, with some spirit.

’It has seemed to me that we have met as friends, and I can most truly say for myself, that I have taken the greatest possible pleasure in your acquaintance.  It is not only that I admire you very much,’ he looked straight before him as he said this, and moved about the point of the stick which he was holding in both his hands ’it is not only that, perhaps not chiefly that, though I do admire you very much; but the truth is, that I like everything about you.’

Nora smiled, but she said nothing.  It was better, she thought, to let him tell his story; but his mode of telling it was not without its efficacy.  It was not the simple praise which made its way with her but a certain tone in the words which seemed to convince her that they were true.  If he had really found her, or fancied her to be what he said, there was a manliness in his telling her so in the plainest words that pleased her much.

‘I know,’ continued he, ’that this is a very bald way of telling, of pleading my cause; but I don’t know whether a bald way may not be the best, if it can only make itself understood to be true.  Of course, Miss Rowley, you know what I mean.  As I said before, you have all those things which not only make me love you, but which make me like you also.  If you think that you can love me, say so; and, as long as I live, I will do my best to make you happy as my wife.’