“I hope as how it is well,” he answered. “Kitty, I’ve got a serious word or two to say to ee.”
“Ha’ ee?”
“Yes, my gell.”
And what be it then?”
“In foreign seas, so I’ve bin told, lass, there’s fishes as ha’ teeth upon their tongues, and there be many a woman as can set teeth upon him which will bite a man’s life and happiness in two.”
“An’ what if they be? Has that anything to do wi’ me?”
She looked at him keenly. Poor girl, she had had bitter experiences.
“I want you to understand,” said Joe Doughty, in a serious tone of voice, “that the will of a woman has a deal to do wi’ me, for ye must know how much my future happiness depends upon one single word uttered by you.”
“By me?”
“Aye, lass, that be true enough—by you. Often and often, when alone in the field of waving corn, or it may be yellow stubble, I ha’ thought of one who had it in her power to mek or mar me. Now doant ye be shakin’ yer head, ’cause what I be sayin’ is the solemn truth, and there’s no gettin’ away from it. Indeed, it aint o’ no yoose tryin’. Where was I? Oh, I know, in the field, either a ploughin’, sowin’, or reapin’, it matters not which; but, anyway, I ha’ thought this matter over and over again, and though I ha’ not sed anything, not as yet, I ha’ felt all the deeper perhaps. Kitty, you must not look so coldly on me; indeed you mustn’t. Shall I tell you why?”