When they were at the farm-yard gate he stopped there for a moment.
“Mally, my girl,” he said, “he’ll not be content till he sees thee, but thou must not stay long wi’ him, lass. Doctor says he’s weak like, and wants sleep badly.”
Mally merely nodded her head, and then they entered the house. Mally had never been within it before, and looked about with wondering eyes at the furniture of the big kitchen. Did any idea of her future destiny flash upon her then, I wonder? But she did not pause here a moment, but was led up to the bed-room above stairs, where Barty was lying on his mother’s bed.
“Is it Mally herself?” said the voice of the weak youth.
“It’s Mally herself,” said the mother, “so now you can say what you please.”
“Mally,” said he, “Mally, it’s along of you that I’m alive this moment.”
“I’ll not forget it on her,” said the father, with his eyes turned away from her. “I’ll never forget it on her.”
“We hadn’t a one but only him,” said the mother, with her apron up to her face.
“Mally, you’ll be friends with me now?” said Barty.
To have been made lady of the manor of the cove for ever, Mally couldn’t have spoken a word now. It was not only that the words and presence of the people there cowed her and made her speechless, but the big bed, and the looking-glass, and the unheard-of wonders of the chamber, made her feel her own insignificance. But she crept up to Barty’s side, and put her hand upon his.