Mary did not speak until she came quite close; then she stopped, and looked at him with eyes full of tears.
"Oh, John," she began, "what can I say?"
"Why, my dear Mary, what on earth is the matter with you?" he said, throwing down his spade, and taking her hands in his.
"I am so unhappy, John."
"Unhappy!" John repeated. "What is making you unhappy, child?"
"It is so dreadful," she said, "to think that I, who ought to have known you so well--I, your betrothed wife--have been thinking that you were so mean as to be jealous; for I did think it was that, John, when you made light of the doings of the hero I had been thinking about so much, and would not allow that he had done anything particular. I thought that you were jealous, John; and now I know what you have done, and why you spoke so, I feel I am altogether unworthy of you."
"Well, Mary, I never thought you were a little goose, before. What nonsense you are talking! It was only natural you should have thought I was jealous; and I should have been jealous, if it had been anyone else you were praising so much. It was my fault, for not telling you at once. Concealments are always stupid; but I had thought that it would give you a pleasant surprise, when you got home, to hear about it; but instead of causing you pleasure, I have caused you pain. I was not vexed, in the slightest; I was rather amused, when you answered me so curtly."
"I think it was cruel of you, John, to let me go on thinking badly of you, and showing yourself in so unworthy a light. That does not make it any the less wrong of me. I ought to have believed in you."
"You are making a mountain out of a molehill, Mary, and I won't hear any such nonsense. You heard an absurd story, as to what someone had been doing, and you naturally made a hero of him. You were hurt by my speaking slightingly of this hero of yours, and naturally thought I was jealous at hearing such praises of another from my betrothed wife. It was all perfectly natural. I was not in the least offended with you, or put out in any way; except that I was vexed with myself for not telling you, at once, that all these fables related to your cousin John.
"Now, dry your eyes, and don't think any more about it. Go and pick two of the finest bunches of grapes you can find, and we will eat them together."