“Why, lile lass, you’re crying!” cried Gaunt, awakening from his happiness.
At all times brave, at all times candid as the sky, Priscilla checked her tears, but not the sobs just yet. “I was never kissed before—and, Reuben—all my pride is gone.”
Gaunt laughed openly. He would never learn how like a child was Cilla, how like a braver woman, too, than he deserved.
“Because I ask to wed you, Cilla?”
“Because the old life is gone, and I fear the new one. I was never one to fear—yet now—Reuben, you’ll be kind and true? I can never give my heart at twice.”
“Don’t ask you to, lile lass,” he answered cheerily. “Once is good enough for me, seeing you’ve chosen Reuben Gaunt.”
Another silence fell on them, broken only by the low complaining of the curlews. Then Cilla, smiling and sobbing both, looked Reuben in the face again.
“It should be no time to be afraid? Tell me again ’tis happiness.”
“To our lives’ end,” said Gaunt, and meant it at the moment.
They were nearing the track to Good Intent, and their footsteps lagged. The Beyond, which Cilla had thought to lie out and away behind the fells, had come to Garth, it seemed, to-night; for each detail of this homely land she knew from childhood took on a warm, new aspect. This was her first love-time, and life held unsuspected melodies.