Rose uttered a faint cry, and covered her face to hide its shame.
"Don't, Rose, don't," said Paul; "I am not blaming any one. Only telling you how it happened that Jube and I became so poor. There was some gold with the jewels, and that Rice made Thrasher give up. It has supported us ever since, for Rice traded with it, and kept it growing, good fellow. But that is very little, Rose. It kept us from being a burden here, but what would it amount to when—when—"
"When what, Paul?"
"When you and I are married, Rose."
The young girl drew a quick breath. The crochet hook fell from her hand—her arms, neck and face were bathed in blushes.
"Have you never thought of this, Rose?" said Paul, tenderly.
"I don't—don't know, Paul."
"But you will think of it?"
"Yes—yes."
"All the while I am gone?"