The girl tried to turn towards me, but could not. I looked at her face a little more closely. Through all its tremor, there was a look of constancy that greatly pleased me. I tried to make her speak.
"When do you expect Willie home?" I said.
She made a little gasp and murmur, but no articulate words came.
"Don't be frightened, Mary," said her mother, as I found she always called her. "The gentleman won't be sharp with you."
She lifted a pair of soft brown eyes with one glance and a smile, and then sank them again.
"He'll be home in about a month, we think," answered the mother. "She's a good ship he's aboard of, and makes good voyages."
"It is time to think about the bans, then," I said.
"If you please, sir," said the mother.
"Just come to me about it, and I will attend to it—when you think proper."
I thought I could hear a murmured "Thank you, sir," from the girl, but I could not be certain that she spoke. I shook hands with them, and went for a stroll on the other side of the bay.