"He has proposed to on one condition. And that is—my little girl."
His tone was low and he pressed me closer.
"Oh, you don't mean—" I cried in a kind of terror. "You can't mean—"
"He has asked me if I would object to his trying to win you. There need be no hurry. He is a smart, bright fellow with lots of energy and push, and it does seem as if everything he takes hold of succeeds. In this case we would go on together. Our interests would be identical. We should both love you. I shouldn't feel afraid then that you would be left without a protector, if any untoward event happened to me. But I am not going to urge you. I think he must care for you, since there are other girls with much richer fathers that I am sure would accept him for the asking. You may think about it."
"But I don't want to marry any one," I protested in great tumult of soul.
"You are so young. Yet it is rather queer you have not fancied any of these boys," and he gave a soft chuckle, as if it rather amused him. "Their mother cares so much for you, too. If I could be well again we would snap our fingers at them all. But farming needs the head to be able to get about here and there and keep matters up sharp. Well, well, I suppose we have to accept what comes," with a long sigh.
"It is very hard," I returned. "And yet you are so well otherwise, and not old."
"No; if I were ten years older I would resign myself to my fate without grumbling."
"But I do not want you any older."
"And you would be over twenty-five."