"It would be, sure. I did hear," she said, "that Farmer Pooley has been a-wisiting a little more nor he ought at Widow Siggars's cottage, her as has a handsome daughter, and so, they do say,has Farmer Pudney; and the other day they met there, and was so mad each to find the other, that the one up with his hunting whip and the other with his Bible and knocked each other down, and each had to be carried home on a shutter."
"Go and tell those tales to the old woman upstairs. I have no patience to listen to them. That's the sort of garbage women feed on, as maggots on rotten meat."
"But it is true."
"Who cares whether true or not? It is all the same to me. Has anyone arrived at Mersea?"
"Not yet, sir, but they do say that the parson's wife has expectations."
"Go back to the kitchen," growled Elijah, and relapsed into his dream.
A few minutes after, Mehalah came out, and seated herself on the bench beside him. She was knitting. He put out his hand and felt her, and smiled. He raised his hand to her head.
"Glory! when you wear the red cap in the sun I know it, I see a scarlet light like a poppy, and it pleases me. Let me hold the ball, then I can feel every stitch you take with your fingers."
She put the wool gently into his palm; and began to talk to him concerning the farm. He listened, and spoke in a tone and with a manner different from his habit formerly.
Presently his hand stole up the thread, and he caught her fingers and drew her hand down on her lap. Her first impulse was to snatch it away, but she conquered it, and let him feel over her hand without a movement of dislike.
"You have not yet a ring," he said; "you have no gold wedding circle like other married women."
"Our union is unlike all others," she said.
"That is true; but you must wear my ring. I shall not be happy till you do. I shall think you will cast me off unless I can feel the ring that has no ending round your finger. Where is the link with which I married you?"
