was, as fine a type of health, beauty and character as man could wish--
and he was only fifty! Life was getting lonelier for him every day,
and, after all, why should he leave distant relations and the Church his
worldly goods? All this flashed through his mind as he waited for her
answer. Now it seemed to him that he had meant to say this thing for
many years. He had seen an awakening in her--he had suddenly been
awakened himself.

"Monsieur, Monsieur," she said in a bewildered way, "do not amuse
yourself at my expense."

"Would it be that, then?" he said, with a smile, behind which there was
determination and self-will. "I want you to marry me; I do with all my
heart. You shall have those ha'pence, and the kisses too, if so be you
will take them--or not, as you will, Rosalie."

"Monsieur," she gasped, for something caught her in the throat, and the
tears started to her eyes, "ask me to forget that you have ever said
those words. Oh, Monsieur, it is not possible, it never could be
possible! I am only the postmaster's daughter."

"You are my wife, if you will but say the word," he answered, "and I as
proud a husband as the land holds!"

"You were always kind to me, Monsieur," she rejoined, her lips trembling;
"won't you be so still?"

"I am too old?" he asked.

"Oh no, it is not that," she replied.