two days before the assizes, andrew was with alexa in her parlor. it was a cool autumn evening, and she proposed they should go on the heath, which came close up to the back of the house.

when they reached the top of the hill, a cold wind was blowing, and andrew, full of care for old and young, man and woman, made alexa draw her shawl closer about her throat, where, with his rough, plow-man hands, he pinned it for her. she saw, felt, and noted his hands; a pitying admiration, of which only the pity was foolish, woke in her; and ere she knew, she was looking up in his face with such a light in her eyes that andrew found himself embarrassed, and let his fall. moved by that sense of class-superiority which has no place in the kingdom of heaven, she attributed his modesty to self-depreciation, and the conviction rose in her, which has often risen in such as she, that there is a magnanimity demanding the sacrifice, not merely of conventional dignity, but of conventional propriety. she felt that a great lady, to be more than great, must stoop; that it was her part to make the approach which, between equals, was the part of the man; the patroness must do what the woman might not. this man was worthy of any woman; and he should not, because of the humility that dared not presume, fail of what he deserved!

“andrew,” she said, “i am going to do an unusual thing, but you are not like other men, and will not misunderstand! i know you now—know you as far above other men as the clouds are above this heath!”

“oh, no, no, ma'am!” protested andrew.

“hear me out, andrew,” she interrupted—then paused a little.

“tell me,” she resumed, “ought we not to love best the best we know?”

“surely, ma'am!” he answered, uncomfortable, but not anticipating what was on the way.

“andrew, you are the best i know! i have said it! i do not care what the world thinks; you are more to me than all the worlds! if you will take me, i am yours.”

she looked him in the face with the feeling that she had done a brave and a right thing.

andrew stood stock-still.

“me, ma'am!” he gasped, and grew pale—then red as a foggy sun. but he made scarcely a moment's pause.

“it's a god-like thing you have done, ma'am!” he said. “but i can not make the return it deserves. from the heart of my heart i thank you. i can say no more.”

his voice trembled. she heard a stifled sob. he had turned away to conceal his emotion.

and now came greatness indeed to the front. instead of drawing herself up with the bitter pride of a woman whose best is scorned, alexa behaved divinely. she went close to andrew, laid her hand on his arm, and said:

“forgive me, andrew. i made a mistake. i had no right to make it. do not be grieved, i beg; you are nowise to blame. let us continue friends!”

“thank you, ma'am!” said andrew, in a tone of deepest gratitude; and neither said a word more. they walked side by side back to the house.

said alexa to herself:

“i have at least been refused by a man worthy of the honor i did him! i made no mistake in him!”

when they reached the door, she stopped. andrew took off his hat, and said, holding it in his hand as he spoke:

“good-night, ma'am! you will send for me if you want me?”

“i will. good-night!” said alexa, and went in with a strange weight on her heart.

shut in her room, she wept sorely, but not bitterly; and the next day old meg, at least, saw no change in her.

said andrew to himself:

“i will be her servant always.”

he was humbled, not uplifted.