In all our intimate conversations the subject of love had never been discussed. I was not brave enough to broach it, and she never did. But often, oh! how very often, we two compared notes about our future plans, how we would live our future lives. We pledged ourselves to lifelong friendship; we vowed that, whatever betided us in the years to come, if, please God, we ever reached home again, we two would ever be in touch with one another, and would aid each other to carry out the plans we concocted in that gloomy home we had up near the Arctic Circle.
We each had plenty of money, or should have, if we succeeded in getting our gold away, and would then have the means to carry out the schemes we laid. What good we projected to our fellows! to all poor strugglers at home! What philanthropic associations we would help!
May's ideas of a happy, useful life were exactly the same as mine, which impressed me more and more with the desire, the hope, that we two might live that life together.
That the dear girl approved of me as a friend, I could not doubt, but that she had learned to love me I was not vain enough to believe. How could she love a rough, uncouth fellow like me, unkempt and dirty? I was all that then. It did not occur to me that she also was very far from presentable in civilised society. Her dress, like mine, was one mass of grease and blackness: the life we led amongst the smoke of the miserable slush-lamps, the cooking and grubbing, with no free use of water, and no soap, for neither of us had any left, had caused us to become very disreputable-looking beings. However, it was her sweet face which attracted me. It never occurred to me to think that for the rest she was not a whit better dressed or cared for than I was.
Certainly I felt in honour bound to treat this girl with the utmost deference, yet I often dreaded that my strong feeling for her would show itself, and then good-bye to much of our content. For if even, impossible as I then thought it, she felt the same regard for me as I did for her, the difficulty of our position would be greatly increased. Therefore I prayed God to enable me to control myself, and I am thankful to say He did, until the time arrived when it became possible for me to speak out plainly.
For a week or two after the death of Mr Bell I always addressed her as Miss Bell, and she spoke to me as Mr Singleton. It was stiff and formal, but I had not the power to suggest any change. One day, however, we being both outside, busy at some necessary work, she called to me to help her lift, or do something for her, and as usual called me Mr Singleton. "Oh!" I replied, "pray call me Bertie—it is time that Mister should be dropped, surely."
She smiled, as she answered, "Surely, surely it is, but you must call me May."
I being quite agreeable to this arrangement, it was May and Bertie between us from that time forward.