"Smidmore!" says she, her pretty brows creasing in anger and her lip curling with scorn. "Hast not my uncle told you of his treachery?"
"His treachery!" said I in amaze—"never a word."
"'Tis because he would hide the weakness and shame of a man he had taken for a friend. When he found we were gone from England he gave himself up to the flattery of his friends; and instead of following us to our help, as we followed him, is paying his court to another. But why should I be vexed with him?" says she, her face melting with sweet kindness; "for, sure, no troth should bind us when we cease to love. And, in truth, dear Benet, had he been constant I must have broken my pledge, having no love but for you, dear—no love but for you. Take me, sweetheart," adds she, stretching forth her hands, "or else I die an old maid."
THE END.
[1] Turtle.—F. B.
[2] Ferns.—F. B.
[3] The chesketaw is a venomous fly like the mosquito, but bigger and more poisonous.—B. P.
[4] These acutis are a kind of conies that dress themselves on their hind-quarters and feed with their fore-paws in the manner of a jack-squirrel.—B. P.
[5] A sort of stag, as big as any Devonshire cow.—B. P.