Sara's cheeks had crimsoned warmly, and her voice faltered a little, as she asked,—
"Did he tell you himself?"
"Not in so many words; but I've known it, so has his mother, for a long time. He has cared for you ever since he was a little boy. And Sara," earnestly, "where would you find a better husband, a truer heart? I'm an old goose, I suppose, to speak out so plainly; but the fact is, Jasper's a bit afraid of you, and doesn't dare to speak, I imagine."
"Afraid of me?"
"Yes, he thinks you some kind of a goddess probably; most men do till they are married, and then they're too apt to think their wives are kitchen-maids; but I don't think Jasper'll be like that!" she added hastily.
Sara smiled.
"I've no doubt, Miss Prue, that Jasper would be all that is good and noble; ah! there is Molly coming back; I wonder if she succeeded in matching your yarn," and rising with a relieved air, she hurried out to meet her sister.
But the conversation lingered in her memory, and was often brought to mind by trivial events. During all of her visit, Miss Prue had an air of taking possession of Sara, which was, if not new, at least accented greatly, and occasionally would drop such expressions as,—
"If you should ever live in Killamet again," or "When you come back to us, Sara," which gave the girl an uneasy feeling that her future was being settled for her, leaving no alternative. Even her very last day, during the packing, there was an instance of this.
Sara and Molly, revelling in the midst of bags and boxes, while pretending to help, came upon a little morocco case of antique appearance.