"How he can live in the same house with that Mr Peters, I can never understand. The quarrels between him and his daughter are so incessant that poor Mr Stumfold is unable to conceal them from the public."
"But you have spoken so highly of her."
"I have endeavoured, Miss Mackenzie—I have endeavoured to think well of her. I have striven to believe that it was all gold that I saw. But let that pass. I was forced to tell you that I am going to leave Mr Stumfold's church, or I should not now have spoken about her or him. And now comes the question, Miss Mackenzie."
"What is the question, Mr Maguire?"
"Miss Mackenzie—Margaret, will you share your lot with mine? It is true that you have money. It is true that I have none,—not even a curacy now. But I don't think that any such consideration as that would weigh with you for a moment, if you can find it in your heart to love me."
Miss Mackenzie sat thinking for some minutes before she gave her answer—or striving to think; but she was so completely under the terrible fire of his eye, that any thought was very difficult.
"I am not quite sure about that," she said after a while. "I think, Mr Maguire, that there should be a little money on both sides. You would hardly wish to live altogether on your wife's fortune."
"I have my profession," he replied, quickly.
"Yes, certainly; and a noble profession it is,—the most noble," said she.
"Yes, indeed; the most noble."