I do not see why we should speak of such things at all." "Of course!" replied Mr.Dyceworthy blandly.

"Of course you do not see.
And why?
Because you are blind." Here he drew a little nearer to her, and looked covetously at the curve of her full, firm waist.
"Oh, why!" he resumed in a sort of rapture--"why should we say it is a pity to talk any more?
Why should we say it is all no use?
It _is_ of use,--it is noble, it is edifying to converse of the Lord's good pleasure! And what is His good pleasure at this moment?
To unite two souls in His service! Yea, He hath turned my desire towards you, Froeken Thelma,--even as Jacob's desire was towards Rachel! Let me see this hand." He made a furtive grab at the white taper fingers that played listlessly with the jessamine leaves on the porch, but the girl dexterously withdrew them from his clutch and moved a little further back, her face flushing proudly.

"Oh, will it not come to me?
Cruel hand!" and he rolled his little eyes with an absurdly sentimental air of reproach.

"It is shy--it will not clasp the hand of its protector! Do not be afraid, Froeken!.

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