“No, no!” she said rapidly, trying to free herself.  “You must not love me!  You must let me go!”

“I love you!  I adore you!  I will never let you go!”

“You must!  You do not know what you are doing!  Ah!  Let me go!”

“Tell me first that you love me!”

“No, no!  I am not good enough for you.  You must love some one who has her heart in your work.”

“Tell me that you love me!” repeated Hazard.

“You do not know me!  You must not love me!  I shall ruin your life!  I shall never satisfy you!”

Hazard caressed her only the more tenderly as he answered with the self-confidence which he put into all he did:  “If my calling is so poor a thing that it cannot satisfy both our lives, I will have nothing more to do with it.  I have more faith in us both.  Promise to love me and I will take care of the rest.”

“Ah!” gasped Esther, carried away by her own feelings and the vehemence of his love:  “I am getting in deeper and deeper!  What shall I do?  Do not make me promise!”

“Then I will promise for both!” he said; and poor Esther ceased to struggle.

The same evening at dinner, Mrs. Murray remarked to her husband that she was becoming more and more uneasy about Esther’s intimacy with Mr. Hazard.

“People are talking about it,” she said.  “It is really becoming a matter of public discussion.”

“Do you suppose she would accept him?” asked Mr. Murray.

“How can I tell?  She would say no, and then very likely do it.  She is in the worst sort of a state of mind for an offer of that kind.”

“Poor Dudley will rise from his grave,” said Mr. Murray.

“He warned me to prevent such a match if I saw it coming,” said Mrs. Murray; “but he did nothing to prevent it himself.  He thought Esther was going to be very unhappy, and would make some such mistake.  I would interfere, but it will only make matters worse.  The thing has gone too far now.”

“Take her away,” said Mr. Murray.

“Where to?  If you will go to Europe in the spring, we will take her over and leave her there with Catherine, but she may be married by that time.”

“Give her a lecture,” said Mr. Murray.  “Show her that she is making a stupendous blunder!”

“Better show him!” said Mrs. Murray with a little resentment.  “The blunder will be worse for him than for her.”

“Explain it to her!” said he.  “She has sense.  Esther is a good girl, and I won’t stand by and see her throw herself away on a church.  I will speak to her myself if you don’t.”

“A nice piece of work you would make of it!” rejoined his wife.  “No!  If it is to be done, I suppose I must do it, but she will hate me all her life.”

“Do it at once, then,” said Mr. Murray.  “The longer you put it off, the worse she will take it.”

“I will talk with her to-morrow,” replied Mrs. Murray; and the next day, when she went to take Esther to drive in the afternoon, her niece received her with an embarrassed air and a high color, and said: