"And you think she loves me?" said Moses, eagerly, a flash of joy illuminating his face; "do you, really?"
"There you are," said Sally; "it's a shame I have let you know! Yes, Moses Pennel, she loves you like an angel, as none of you men deserve to be loved,—as you in particular don't."
Moses sat down on a point of rock, and looked on the ground discountenanced. Sally stood up glowing and triumphant, as if she had her foot on the neck of her oppressor and meant to make the most of it.
"Now what do you think of yourself for all this summer's work?—for what you have just said, asking me if I didn't love you? Supposing, now, I had done as other girls would, played the fool and blushed, and said yes? Why, to-morrow you would have been thinking how to be rid of me! I shall save you all that trouble, sir."
"Sally, I own I have been acting like a fool," said Moses, humbly.
"You have done more than that,—you have acted wickedly," said Sally.
"And am I the only one to blame?" said Moses, lifting his head with a show of resistance.
"Listen, sir!" said Sally, energetically; "I have played the fool and acted wrong too, but there is just this difference between you and me: you had nothing to lose, and I a great deal; your heart, such as it was, was safely disposed of. But supposing you had won mine, what would you have done with it? That was the last thing you considered."
"Go on, Sally, don't spare; I'm a vile dog, unworthy of either of you," said Moses.
Sally looked down on her handsome penitent with some relenting, as he sat quite dejected, his strong arms drooping, and his long eyelashes cast down.