"I have been doing some hard thinking," he said, "while I have been walking yonder; and I have come to the conclusion that the present is an exceptional case and an exceptional time. Ordinarily I do not let business—private business—come into Sunday. But we are brought here together, and detained here, and I have come to the conclusion that this is the business I ought to do. I have only one parishioner on my hands to-day," he went on with a slight smile, "and I may as well attend to her. I am going to tell you my plan. I shall not startle you? Just now you allowed that you had confidence in me?"
"Yes. I will try to do whatever you say I ought to do."
"That I cannot tell," said he gravely, "but I will unfold to you my plan. You have trust in me. So have I in you, Diana; but I have more. So much more, that it would make me happy to go through my life with you. I know,"—he said as he met her startled look up to him,—"I know you do not love me, I know that; but you trust me; and I have love enough for two. That has been true a great while. Suppose you come to me and let me take care of you. Can you trust me to that extent?"
Diana's lips had grown white with fear and astonishment. "You do not know!"—she gasped. But his answer was steady and sweet.
"I think I do."
"All?"
"All I need to know."
"It would be very, very wrong to you, Mr. Masters!" said Diana, hiding her face.
"No," he answered in the same gentle way. "To give me what I long for?"
"But—but—I have nothing to give in return," she said, answering not the form of his words, but the reality under them.