"What see you, yonder in the distance, dear Martin?" she questioned.
"Yourself!" said I. "You fill my world. God make me worthy! Aye, in the future—ever beside me henceforth, I do see you, my Damaris!"
"Why, to be sure, loved man! But what more?"
"I want for no more!"
"Nay, do but look!" said she, soft cheek to mine. "There I do see happiness, fortune, honours—and—mayhap, if God is kind to us—" She stopped, with sound like a little sob.
"What, my Joan?" I questioned, fool-like.
"Greater blessings—"
"But," said I, "what should be greater—"
"Ah, Martin—dear—cannot you guess?"
"Why, Joan—oh, my beloved!" But stepping out of my hold, she fled from me.
"Nay," cried I, "do not leave me so soon."