"I kissed her!--She kissed me."
"It's the same thing."
"It's not!" Which was true enough--it was a different thing entirely. "Ellen, can you not see that I was never more in earnest in my life. If you do not marry me, something tells me that that woman will, and for all I know that wretched parent of hers may be the occupant of a dissenting pulpit; he looks disreputable enough for anything. What with her and her father, and my aunt, I am as a reed in their hands. I do entreat you--be my wife."
The offer was not put in the most flattering form. Still, it was an offer.
"If you really want me--" began Miss Bayley.
"Want you! I want nothing so much in all the world."
"And if you think I can be of use to you in the parish--"
"Parish! it's not the parish I'm thinking of, it's--it's that wretched woman."
Miss Bayley did not like this way of putting it at all.
"I will consider what you say, Mr Macleod, and will let you have an answer--say in a month."