He rose from his place on the sofa and approached her. But then he stopped, acutely embarrassed. His blind desire for vicinity had no definite intent, and he did not know just what to do. As for Martha, she stretched out her palms like a barrier before her, and gasped:
“O, Jonas! Don’t say such things!”
Unexpected as it was, that gave him definiteness. Sitting down beside the lady of his heart Jonas laid a gnarled finger on her knee.
“I know it’s kind of unfair to come on ye sudden like, Martha, just after you’ve lost your mother.
“But if anybody kin comfort ye, I’m the man to do it. I just couldn’t wait a minute longer. I’ve waited purty long, Marthy.”
Martha brushed away the audacious finger, and covered her face with her hands like a nymph at bay.
“O, don’t, Jonas!” she moaned.
Her gentle faun made no further attempt at violence, but looked at her in amazement.
“Marthy!” he groaned: “What do you mean?”
There was that in his voice which at last compelled Martha to reply, haltingly: