away from me. 'Tis as if there were a circle round me, which kept every one out but you; I can hear the others talking and laughing; but you come quite close. Maybe, this is disagreeable to you?" he asked.
Marjory made no answer.
"Speak up, girl," said the parson.
"Nay, now," returned Will, "I wouldn't press her, parson. I feel tongue-tied myself, who am not used to it; and she's a woman, and little more than a child, when all is said. But for my part, as far as I can understand what people mean by it, I fancy I must be what they call in love. I do not wish to be held as committing myself; for I may be wrong; but that is how I believe things are with me. And if Miss Marjory should feel any otherwise on her part, mayhap she would be so kind as shake her head."
Marjory was silent, and gave no sign that she had heard.
"How is that, parson?" asked Will.
"The girl must speak," replied the parson, laying down his pipe. "Here's our neighbour who says he loves you, Madge. Do you love him, ay or no?"
"I think I do," said Marjory faintly.
"Well then, that's all that could be wished!" cried Will heartily. And he took her hand across the table, and held it a moment in both of his with great satisfaction.
"You must marry," observed the parson, replacing his pipe in his mouth.
"Is that the right thing to do, think you?" demanded Will.
"It is indispensable," said the parson.
