“Not want to see you,” he whispered. “Why, I’d go round the world, across the seas, anywhere, to hear you talk to me, and look at your eyes. Tell me when I shall see you again.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said carelessly, “perhaps some fine day you’ll see me walking in the wood.”
“Yes—yes,” he said eagerly. “I’ll always be about watching for you as I would for a hare.”
“One of my cousin’s,” she said, with a contemptuous laugh.
“They’re not his,” cried Caleb, quietly, “they’re wild beasts, and as much mine as anybody’s.”
“We will not discuss that,” she said coldly. “Good-bye, and I hope you will keep your word.”
“I’ve sweared it to myself,” he said, “and I shall do it. Don’t go yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I could stand and look at you, like, all day, and it will not seem the same when you are gone.”
“Why, I thought you were a poacher.”