She looked at him steadily.
"Shall I tell you?"
"Do! I shall appreciate the favour!"
For a moment she hesitated. A great pain and sorrow clouded her eyes.
"No woman marries a leper by choice!"—she said at last, slowly.
He glanced at her,—then shrugged his shoulders.
"You talk in parables. Pardon me if I am too dull to understand you!"
"You understand me well enough,"—she answered—"But if you wish it,
I will speak more plainly. I dream of love—-"
"Most women do!" he interrupted her, smilingly—"And I am sure you dream charmingly. But is a middle-aged parson part of the romantic vision?"
She paid no heed to this sarcasm. She had moved a pace or two away from him, and now stood, her head slightly uplifted, her eyes turned wistfully towards the picturesque gables of the Manor outlined clearly in the moon against the dense night sky.