"She never speaks of money. Just so simple and easily pleased as I am myself, for that matter. She loves natural things—just the things you care about yourself."
"And very much interested in tenor bell, no doubt?"
"How did you guess that? But 'tis perfectly true. She is; and she said a very kind thing that was very hopeful to me to hear. She said that the bell always put her in mind of me, and I always put her in mind of the bell."
"I wonder! And did you tell her what was writ on the bell?"
"Yes, I did, father."
"And d'you know what she thought?"
Mark shook his head.
"She thought that the sooner it called you and her to church together, and the sooner it called me to my grave, the pleasanter life would look for her hard eyes."
"Father! 'Tis cruel and unjust to say such things."
"Haven't I seen her there o' Sundays ever since she growed up? There's nought tells you more about people than their ways in church. As bright as a bee and smart and shining; but hard—hard as the nether millstone, that woman's heart. Have a care of her; that's all I'll say to you."