Now Margaret began to grow disturbed; her wayward assurance departed from her.
“It is not fitting,” she murmured, “and I do not wish—I will speak to my father; he shall give you your answer.”
“No need to trouble him, Margaret. He has given it already. His great desire is that we should marry, for he seeks to leave this trade and to live with us in the Vale of Dedham, in Essex, where he has bought back my father’s land.”
“You are full of strange tidings this morning, Peter.”
“Yes, Margaret, our wheel of life that went so slow turns fast enough to-day, for God above has laid His whip upon the horses of our Fate, and they begin to gallop, whither I know not. Must they run side by side, or separate? It is for you to say.”
“Peter,” she said, “will you not give me a little time?”
“Aye, Margaret, ten whole minutes by the clock, and then if it is nay, all your life, for I pack my chest and go. It will be said that I feared to be taken for that soldier’s death.”
“You are unkind to press me so.”
“Nay, it is kindest to both of us. Do you then love some other man?”
“I must confess I do,” she murmured, looking at him out of the corners of her eyes.