and hard, her mouth was perfect. She carried herself in a haughty way, and had a habit of bending her dark brows so imperiously, that she reminded Pence of Judith, who killed Holofernes. Judith and Jael and Deborah must have been just such women. "Well?" asked Bella, bending her brows like an empress, "what is it?" "I—I—love you, Miss Huxham." She could not be angry at so naive a declaration, and one coming from a man whom she knew to be as timid as a hare. "I am somewhat surprised, Mr. Pence," she replied demurely, "are you not making a mistake?" "No," he stuttered, flushing with eagerness, for amorous passion makes the most timid bold. "I have loved you for months, for years. I want you to be my wife—to share with me the glorious privilege of leading my flock to the land of Beulah, and——" "Stop, stop!" She flung up her hand. "I assure you, Mr. Pence, that it is impossible. Forget that you ever said anything." "I cannot forget. Why should I forget?" "You must not ask a woman for her reasons, Mr. Pence," she answered drily, "for a woman never gives the true ones." "Bella!" "Miss Huxham to you, Mr. Pence." She spoke in a chilly manner. "No," he cried wildly; "to me you are Bella. I think of you by that sweet name day and night. You come between me and my work. When I console the afflicted I feel that I am talking to you. When I read my Bible, your face comes between me and the sacred page. To me you are Hephzibah—yes, and the Shulamite. The Angel of the Covenant; the joy of my heart. Oh, Bella, I love the very ground that you tread on. Can you refuse me? See!" He threw himself on the path, heedless of the fact that Mrs. Tunks might be at her not far distant window. "I am at your feet, Bella! Bella!" The girl was distressed by this earnestness. "Rise, Mr. Pence, someone will see you. You must not behave like this. I cannot be your wife." "Why not? Oh, why not?" "Because I am not fit to be a minister's wife." The young man sprang to his feet, glowing with passion. "Let me teach you."
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