“Yes, but I was going to sea then,” put in Ben.
“It is strange, then,” continued Sally, without heeding the interruption, “that we two, who have supported ourselves and other folks, can’t support our own selves. I see how it is, Ben; this island can be bought very cheap, on account of the disadvantages of living on it; that you can pay for it by your own labor, and see no other way of getting your living on the land. Is that it, Ben?”
“That is it.”
“Well, then,” replied this noble New England girl, reddening to the very roots of her hair, and her eyes flashing through her tears, “I will marry you, and go to that island with you; we will take the bitter with the sweet; we will suffer and enjoy together. If you love me well enough to give up a ship, and go on to that island to live with me, I love you well enough to go on it and be happy with you. I thank God, that if he has given me a handsome face, as they say, he has not given me an empty head nor an idle hand to go with it. I have worked, and saved, and denied myself for my mother and brothers, and have been right happy and well thought of in doing it. I can do the same for my husband; and if any think less of me on that account, I shan’t have them for next door neighbors to twit me of it. My home is in my husband’s heart, and where his interest and duty lie.”
Ben thought she never looked half so beautiful before, and imprinted a fervent kiss upon the lips that had uttered such noble sentiments. The day was breaking as they separated.
CHAPTER V.
SALLY TELLS HER MOTHER ALL ABOUT IT.
Sally slept in the same room with her mother. The old lady waked, and finding Sally’s bed not tumbled, called loudly for her daughter. When she came, her mother said, “Why, Sally, your bed has not been tumbled this live-long night; how flushed you look! your hair is all of a frizzle, and you’ve been crying: what is the matter with you?”
Poor Sally, nervous and excited after the night’s conflict, made a clean breast of it.
“Mother, I’ve said I’d have Ben, that is, if you are willing,” and, burying her face in the pillow, she burst into a flood of tears. The good old lady was not so much troubled by tears as Ben had been, but, putting her arms round her daughter, said, “That’s right, dear; cry as much as you please; it’ll ease your mind, and do you good;” and, wrapped up in her own reflections about an event she had long foreseen, patiently waited till Sally should think best to speak. Finding Sally not inclined to break the silence, she said, “I think you could not have done better than to be engaged to Ben; and I’m sure you could not have done anything so pleasing to me; that is, if you love him, for that is the main thing.