ABRAHAM HALL MARRIED.

“Yes;” he said;—“about my little boy. I could not say what I had to say in the street, though I had thought to do so.” Then he paused, and she sat herself down, feeling, she did not know why, as though she would lack strength to hear him if she stood. It was then the case that some particular service was to be demanded from her,—something that would show his confidence in her. The very idea of this seemed at once to add a grace to her life. She would have the child to love. There would be something for her to do. And there must be letters between her and him. It would certainly add a grace to her life. But how odd that he should not take his child with him! He had paused a moment while she thought of all this, and she was aware that he was looking at her. But she did not dare to return his gaze, or even to glance up at his face. And then gradually she felt that she was shivering and trembling. What was it that ailed¹ her,—just now when it would be so necessary that she should speak out with some strength? She had eaten nothing since her breakfast when he had come to her, and she was afraid that she would show herself to be weak. “Will you be his mother?” he said.

What did it mean? How was she to answer him? She knew that his eyes were on her, but hers were more than ever firmly fixed² upon the floor. And she was{311} aware that she ought briskly to have acceded³ to his request,—so as to have shown by her ready alacrity⁴ that she had attributed no other meaning to the words than they had been intended to convey,—that she had not for a moment been guilty of rash folly⁵. But though it was so imperative⁶ upon her to say a word, yet she could not speak. Everything was swimming round her. She was not even sure that she could sit upon her chair. “Lucy,” he said;—then she thought she would have fallen;—“Lucy, will you be my wife?”

There was no doubt about the word. Her sense of hearing was at any rate not

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