The Rector of St. Marks

"Yes, very much," she answered, and, emboldened by her reply, Thornton

lifted up her head, and was about to kiss her forehead, when she

started away from him, exclaiming: "No, Mr. Hastings. You must not do that. I cannot be your wife. It

hurts me to tell you so, for I believe you are sincere in your

proposal; but it can never be. Forgive me, and let us both forget this

wretched summer."

"It has not been wretched to me. It has been a very happy summer,

since I knew you, at least," Mr. Hastings said, and then he asked

again that she should reconsider her decision. He could not take it as

her final one. He had loved her too much, had thought too much of

making her his own to give her up so easily, he said, urging so many

reasons why she should think again, that Anna said to him, at last: "If you would rather have it so, I will wait a month, but you must

not hope that my answer will be different from what it is to-night. I

want your friendship, though, the same as if this had never happened.

I like you, Mr. Hastings, because you have been kind to me, and made

my stay in Newport so much pleasanter than I thought it could be. You

have not talked to me like other men. You have treated me as if I, at

least, had common sense. I thank you for that; and I like you

because----"

She did not finish the sentence, for she could not say "because you

are Arthur's friend." That would have betrayed the miserable secret

tugging at her heart, and prompting her to refuse Thornton Hastings,

who had also thought of Arthur Leighton, wondering if it were thus

that she rejected him, and if in the background there was another love

standing between her and the two men to win whom many a woman would

almost have given her right hand. To say that Thornton was not a

little piqued at her refusal would be false. He had not expected it,

accustomed, as he was, to adulation; but he tried to put that feeling

down, and his manner was even more kind and considerate than ever as

he walked slowly back to the hotel, where Mrs. Meredith was waiting

for them, her practised eye detecting at once that something was

amiss. Thornton Hastings knew Mrs. Meredith thoroughly, and, wishing

to shield Anna from her displeasure, he preferred stating the facts

himself to having them wrung from the pale, agitated girl who, bidding

him good night, went quickly to her room; so, when she was gone, and

he stood for a moment alone with Mrs. Meredith, he said: "I have proposed to your niece, but she cannot answer me now. She

wishes for a month's probation, which I have granted, and I ask that

she shall not be persecuted about the matter. I wish for an unbiassed

answer."