s, sir.”

    “Station! station!—your station is in my , and on t you, now or er.—Go.”

    I  Mrs. Fairfax’s parlour, I o it. tion of Scripture—tacles . ion, suspended by Mr. Rocer’s announcement, seemed noten: e, expressed t mind stirred by uned tidings. Seeing me, s of effort to smile, and framed a feulation; but tence able.

    “I feel so astonis to say to you, Miss Eyre. I  been dreaming, imes I ting alone and fancy t  o me more t my dear een years since,  do I o do. Noell me ually true t Mr. Rocer o marry  laug me. But I really t es ago, and said t in a month you would be his wife.”

    “o me,” I replied.

    “ed him?”

    “Yes.”

    S me be. ers , liked money. oo, o marry you?”

    “ells me so.”

    S to solve the enigma.

    “It passes me!” sinued; “but no doubt, it is true since you say so.   tell: I really don’t knoy of position and fortune is often advisable in sucy years of difference in your ages.  almost be your father.”

    “No, indeed, Mrs. Fairfax!” exclaimed I, nettled; “oget for an instant. Mr. Rocer looks as young, and is as young, as some men at five-and-ty.”

    “Is it really for love o marry you?” she asked.

    I  tears rose to my eyes.

    “I am sorry to grieve you,” pursued t you are so young, and so little acquainted o put you on your guard. It is an old saying t ‘all is not gold t glitters;’ and in to be different to .”

    “er?” I said: “is it impossible t Mr. Rocer sion for me?”

    “No: you are very