After supper she closed the door, and throwing a log over the culm fire made it blaze up brightly.
A spirit of rest and content came over Hugh, which he invariably felt in her presence. Her needles clicked, and her golden head was bent over her work; the shining points of her little shoes peeped out under her red petticoat; and as she chatted cheerfully, her white teeth glistening and her dimpled chin adding its charm to her fair pale face, even 'n'wncwl Jos noticed how fair she was to look upon. Hugh was accustomed to sudden awakenings to her charms, but had schooled and hardened himself against their influence. Besides, to-night he was pre-occupied—his thoughts were full of something else. The clock in the corner struck nine, drawing near bedtime in that simple village.
"Howyr bâch!" said Hugh, with a start; "it will be time to go before I have said what I wanted to."
"What is it?" inquired Mari.
"Well, thou know'st," he answered, "I always like 'n'wncwl Jos's advice; and—and I am thinking of getting married."
Mari's heart stood still; and at that moment, while her needles continued to click, and she showed no sign of the agony within her even then, the hope that had been nourished for fifteen years died; not the love, for that was all enduring and undying. And while she passed through a spasm of pain, she yet raised her white lids calmly, and looking full into Hugh Morgan's face, said:
"It will be better for thee than living alone."
"Diws anwl!" said 'n'wncwl Jos; "there's news I'll have to give in the sail-shed to-morrow. Nobody'll listen to the war in China."
"Stop, stop," said Hugh; "you must tell no one: Perhaps the girl won't have me, man. Wait until I give you leave." And turning his black eyes upon those into which he had once looked with passionate love, he said, "I'm afraid, Mari, thou wilt not approve of my choice."
"Who is she?" asked Mari.