"Because," said Morva, "'tis only my promise to marry thee that makes me meet thee as I do, and deceive them all at Garthowen. Let me tell them how it is between us, Will."
"What! Morva talk about her sweetheart as the English girls do! No, thou art too modest, lass."
"That is quite different," said Morva. "I do not want to talk about my—my—"
"Lover," said Will.
"Yes, but I don't want any longer to deceive my best friends. Let me go, Will, or let us be married soon. I am willing for either."
"Indeed, lass," said Will, beginning to hedge, "I would almost think thou hadst found another sweetheart, only I know how seldom any other man comes across thy path, unless indeed Gethin the thief has stolen thy love from me. Morva, dost love any other man?"
"Gethin is no thief," she answered hotly, "and thou knowest it as well as I do. Thou knowest his nature; 'twould be impossible for him to do a mean thing."
"Thou hast a high opinion of him," said Will scornfully. "Is it he, then, who hast stolen thine heart?"
Morva walked with bent head, pulling at her apron-strings.
"I am not saying that," she answered, in a very low tone, "but I wish to be free, or marry thee soon."