“Seems like things look more spruce than they did last time,” he thought, eyeing the polished knocker, the panels of the door, the slightly inclined planks of the veranda, and the flagstones of the path running back to the kitchen. “That there hemlock’s grown a pile, too. They planted that ’twixt last time and the time before, in place of the old pine that was struck by lightnin’. Marthy never kept me so long though,” he murmured impatiently.
Then the edge of the door began receding, very gently; and when it reached a point which might afford the possibility of ingress or egress to a pet animal a lady’s head approached the aperture. It was Miss Waring, come to parley through the postern.
“Why, Jonas, is that you?” she exclaimed, a faint glow suddenly brightening her countenance.
“Same old penny!” rejoined that worthy, putting forth his hand.
At the sight of this friendly member Miss Waring enlarged the aperture over which she stood guard and drew her visitor in. Not only was it the proper and Christian thing to do, but she had a disturbing intuition of neighbourly eyes. Closing the door as gently as she had opened it, she led the way into the parlour, raised the shades, and took a seat opposite her suitor.
It must be confessed that while Miss Waring had received no immediate warning of this visit—Jonas being, as Miss Cockerill had intimated to Mrs. Webster, no great hand at writing—she had nevertheless been led by experience to entertain a premonition of Jonas’ arrival not long after any change in her own family circle. And on this occasion she was more uncertain of herself than she had ever been. For the last ditch was lost; and now the invader threatened her very person she knew not whether to surrender or to withstand till the last drop of blood. She wished that she had had more time to think.
It was evident that Jonas, too, as he sat twirling his hat and gazing from his hostess to her furniture, felt a little less than his customary assurance.
It was the woman, however, who relieved the situation by uttering:
“I hope you’re feeling well, Jonas. You’re looking just the same as ever.”
“Thank you, Marthy,” rejoined her interlocutor. “You’re lookin’ just about the same, too; but I hope you’re feelin’ different.” And before Miss Waring could recover from this bold attack, Jonas went on: “You know I ain’t no hand at beatin’ about the bush, Marthy. I might as well tell you here and now what I’ve come for. I guess you know well enough, though, without my tellin’. You’ve had chance aplenty to learn what it means when I come here. But this time I ain’t going away without ye. Be I now, Marthy?”