"You would make _me_ your wife--_me_?
You think _me_ likely to accept such an offer ?" And she drew herself up with a superb gesture, and regarded him fixedly.
"Oh, pride, pride!" murmured the unabashed Dyceworthy, recovering from the momentary abasement into which he had been thrown by her look and manner.

"How it overcometh our natures and mastereth our spirits! My dear, my dearest Froeken,--I fear you do not understand me! Yet it is natural that you should not; you were not prepared for the offer of my--my affections,"-- and he beamed all over with benevolence,--"and I can appreciate a maidenly and becoming coyness, even though it assume the form of a repellant and unreasonable anger.

But take courage, my--my dear girl!--our Lord forbid that I should wantonly play with the delicate emotions of your heart! Poor little heart! does it flutter ?" and Mr.Dyceworthy leered sweetly.

"I will give it time to recover itself! Yes, yes! a little time! and then you will put that pretty hand in mine"-- here he drew nearer to her, "and with one kiss we will seal the compact!" And he attempted to steal his arm round her waist, but the girl sprang back indignantly, and pulling down a thick branch of the clambering prickly roses from the porch, held it in front of her by way of protection.

Mr.Dyceworthy laughed indulgently.
"Very pretty--very pretty indeed!" he mildly observed, eyeing her as she stood at bay barricaded by the roses.