would not do for me; besides, you might marry--of course you will,' but
he flushed rather uncomfortably at that, and said, 'Pshaw! what
nonsense!' We had paused under a lamp-post, and I could see him plainly:
perhaps he knew this, for he hurried me on, this time in the direction of
home.

'I am five-and-twenty,' I continued, trying to collect the salient points
of my argument. 'I am indebted to none for my maintenance; I am free, and
my own mistress; I neglect no duty by refusing to live under Uncle
Brian's roof; no one wants me; I contribute to no one's happiness.'

'Except to Jill's,' observed Uncle Max.

'Jill! but she is only a child, barely sixteen, and Sara is becoming
jealous of my influence. I shall only breed dissension in the household
if I remain. Uncle Max, you are a good man,--a clergyman; you cannot
conscientiously tell me that I am not free to lead my own life, to choose
my own work in the world.'

'Perhaps not,' he replied, in a hesitating voice. 'But the scheme is a
peculiar one. You wish me to find respectable lodgings in my parish,
where you will be independent and free from supervision, and to place
your superfluous health and strength--you are a muscular Christian,
Ursula--at the service of my sick poor, and for this post you have
previously trained yourself.'

'I think it will be a good sort of life,' I returned carelessly, but how
my heart was beating! 'I like it so much, and I should like to be near
you, Uncle Max, and work under you as my vicar. I have thought about this
for years. Charlie and I often talked of it. I was to live with him and