Keren-Happuch looked relieved. The scowl disappeared from her countenance, and she smiled at Cornel.
“Don’t you take on about it, miss. It ain’t worth it. I allers liked Mr Dale, and he makes me feel as if I’d do anything for him, and I allus have done as much as missus’d let me; but it’s no use to worry about artisses; they’re all like Mr Dale—all them as we’ve had here.”
Cornel looked at her indignantly.
“Oh, it ain’t my fault, miss. I never wanted him to have ladies come to see him. I’ve gone down into the kitchen along with our old cat, and had many a good cry about it. Not as he ever thought anything about me.”
Cornel looked at the girl in wonder and horror.
“But he was allus kind to me, and never called me names, and made fun of me like the others did. On’y Mirandy, and I didn’t mind that. Them others teased me orful, you know. Men ain’t much good; but you can’t help liking of ’em.”
“Hush!” whispered Cornel; “he is coming to.” For there was a quivering about Dale’s lips, and then his eyes opened wildly, to gaze vacantly upward for some moments before memory reasserted itself, and he gave a sudden start and looked sharply round.
Cornel suppressed a sigh.
“Not for me,” she said to herself; and she was right. The look was not for her.
She knew it directly, for he turned to her, caught her wrist, and said excitedly—