"Oh, you stupid Frank! Do you think he will beat me? But, if you are here, he will say things he will one day be sorry for—things you may find it hard to forgive. Whereas, if I have him alone, I can coax, or scold, or cry, as may be needed, and bring him to reason."
"Running away does not suit me," said I.
"Nor would I send you away, if you could do the least good. There is nobody to be knocked down or thrown into the river just now; only an elderly gentleman to be managed. And there is another at Temple Belwood impatient to see his son. Go and do your best with him, leaving my father to me."
In the end I consented. I called Luke to prepare things for my going, and he had to tell me that a tract of the fen from Sandtoft, almost direct to Belton, had been recently flooded to a depth of two to three feet by the raising of an embankment for a drain which had been begun. In a light boat one might cross more easily and quickly than had been possible heretofore.
"Why not walk on the embankment?" I asked.
It seemed the bank was rough, and there would be awkwardness here and there in the growing darkness and a rising mist. So we settled on the boat as my conveyance. While we talked, Anna had made haste to provide supper for me, eager to have me gone, nor would she permit me to linger over the meal, or afterwards. I wanted to talk of our future, but she would not.
"Have you a ninepence?" she asked. "Rustic lovers break one, do they not?"
I broke one, and held out the halves to her.
She took one, and said, laughing, "Now we are properly plighted; what need of more words? When you bring your token, mine will be ready."
Rosy-red she blushed, as I took her in my arms, and held her against my quick-beating heart, and joined lip to lip. But she withdrew herself, cut short our leave-taking, and dismissed me.