"I cannot forget. Why should I forget?"
"You must not ask a woman for her reasons, Mr. Pence," she answered drily, "for a woman never gives the true ones."
"Bella!"
"Miss Huxham to you, Mr. Pence." She spoke in a chilly manner.
"No," he cried wildly; "to me you are Bella. I think of you by that sweet name day and night. You come between me and my work. When I console the afflicted I feel that I am talking to you. When I read my Bible, your face comes between me and the sacred page. To me you are Hephzibah—yes, and the Shulamite. The Angel of the Covenant; the joy of my heart. Oh, Bella, I love the very ground that you tread on. Can you refuse me? See!" He threw himself on the path, heedless of the fact that Mrs. Tunks might be at her not far distant window. "I am at your feet, Bella! Bella!"
The girl was distressed by this earnestness. "Rise, Mr. Pence, someone will see you. You must not behave like this. I cannot be your wife."
"Why not? Oh, why not?"
"Because I am not fit to be a minister's wife."
The young man sprang to his feet, glowing with passion. "Let me teach you."
Bella avoided his extended arms. "No, no, no!" she insisted, "you must take my answer once and for all, Mr. Pence. I cannot marry you."