“You will have to ask Mary,” laughed the woodman.
“Oh! I understand; there’ll be two weddings to-morrow night, eh? That’s so, Mary?”
“Not that I know of; I have no expectation of becoming a wife for any one.”
“Hain’t eh? Why the man seems to love you. Why don’t you marry him?”
“I am afraid Mary will never marry,” said Haverland. “She has rejected all offers, though many were from very desirable men.”
“Queer! I never heard of such a case.”
“Her love was buried long ago,” replied Haverland, in a lower tone, to Seth.
After a moment’s silence, Seth arose, took his chair, and seated himself beside her. She did not look at him, nor did any one else. He sat a moment; then whispered:—
“Mary?”
She started. Her eyes flashed like meteors in his face a moment; then she turned as pale as death, and would have fallen from her chair, had not Seth caught her in his arms. Haverland looked up in amazement; the whole family were riveted in wonder. Seth looked up from the face of the fainting woman, and smiled as he said: “She is mine, forever!”