“I hope that he will like me better, as time goes on,” said Tom, but the tone of his voice said, “I don’t believe he will.”
“Yes; his liking will come all in good time, Tom;” then, very softly, “Isn’t thee happy, Tom?”
“Yes; I’m happy,” said Tom, but in truth, his words belied his thoughts a little, and his voice, I think, must have somewhat belied his words.
“Tom,” said Patty, and he looked up. She looked bravely and lovingly into his eyes; “I am very happy,” said she, in a low voice.
“God bless thee, Patty!” said Tom, in a voice that trembled a little; “thee’s a good girl,—too good a girl for me. I’m afraid I’m not worthy of thee.”
“I’m satisfied,” said Patty, quietly. “Tell me; what did father say to thee, Thomas?”
Then Tom told all that had passed, and the telling of it seemed to blow away the dark clouds of his moodiness; for, as he talked, it did not seem to him that the old man’s words had been as bitter as he had felt them to be at the time. After all, he had said nothing but what he should have said, considering that it behooved him to see his daughter well settled in the world.
“Thee can earn seven hundred and fifty dollars in a year’s time, can’t thee, Thomas?”
“I hope so.”
“Then it’ll only be waiting a year, and that isn’t a long time, Tom, is it? Thee’ll find me just the same when thee comes back again.” Patty talked very bravely;—I believe that she talked more bravely than she felt, for her eyes were bright with tears, beneath the lids.