COUSIN PHILLIS. 95
I think she would have fain run away again; but her fit of energy was all spent. She followed me unwillingly enough — that I could see. The place to which I took her was fall of the fragrant breath of the cows, and was a little warmer than the outer air. I put her inside, and stood myself in the doorway, thinking how I could best begin. At last I plunged into it.
"I must see that you don't get cold for more reasons than one; if you are ill, Holdsworth will be so anxious and miserable out there" (by which I meant Canada) —
She shot one penetrating look at me, and then turned her face away with a slightly impatient movement. If she could have run away then she would, but I held the means of exit in my own power." In for a penny in for a pound," thought I, and I went on rapidly, anyhow.
"He talked so much about you, just before he left — that night after he had been here, you know — and you had given him those flowers." She put her hands up to hide her face, but she was listening now — listening with all her ears.
"He had never spoken much about you before, but the sudden going away unlocked his heart, and he told me how he loved you, and how he hoped on his return that you might be his wife."
"Don't," said she, almost gasping out the word, which she had tried once or twice before to speak; but her voice had been choked. Now she put her hand backwards; she had quite turned away from me, and felt for mine. She gave it a soft lingering pressure; and then she put her arms down on the wooden division, and laid her head on it, and cried quiet tears. I did not understand her at once, and feared lest I had mistaken
