She rose suddenly, putting aside the hand that would have stayed her. There is nothing so cruel as a young thing who has no notion of her power and of the devotion she has stirred.
"I didn't think," she said, cuttingly, "that you wanted payment. I thought—I thought——" And then, not trusting her voice further, she sprang away from his detaining hand, and fled.
CHAPTER V.
MARJORIE'S TROUBLE.
"Dear Marjorie,—You gave me no answer yesterday, and I am afraid I took you by surprise, and perhaps shocked you. A girl is a tender thing, I know. Will you send me just a little line of hope and forgiveness? I love you—how dearly you cannot guess—and I want you to be my wife. But I will press nothing against your will, and I have written 'No' to the offer of that living. I think you will like to stay near home. Whatever you decide, whether you say 'Yes' or 'No,' believe always that my love is too great to change, and that I am ever your attached friend,—W. St. J. Warde."
Marjorie was reading this letter with an expression which certainly did not augur well for its writer. She had been seeing to household matters for her mother, and had sat down with an armful of boys' clothes to mend, when the note had been handed to her.
"I do not know what to say to him, mother. I wish—oh, I do so wish he hadn't done it."
"He is a good man, Margie," her mother said simply. "A man, I think, to make you happy."
