Katy left the room, and Squire Turner found himself alone with the widow. He drew his chair a little nearer and commenced:—
“I am about to make you a proposal, Mrs. Raymond, which I think will be mutually advantageous, and I hope you will regard it in that light. I have had it in view for some time, but felt delicate about introducing the subject before. I hope you regard me as a friend.”
“Indeed, you have been a true friend to me, Squire Turner.”
“I have tried to be,” said the squire, modestly. “But I will not waste time, but at once make my proposal. You have lost your husband, I my wife. I need some one to superintend my house, and look after my son, while you need a protector who is able to give you a good home. Will you be my wife?”
“Indeed, Squire Turner,” said Mrs. Raymond, startled, “I never anticipated that your proposal would be of such a character.”
“And yet, why should you be surprised? Need I recall that time, years since, when we were both younger, and I made the same offer? You see my attachment is no new thing. You preferred another, but he has been taken from you.”
“I thank you very much for your kind offer,” said Mrs. Raymond, “but I have never thought of marrying again since husband’s death. I do not think it would be right.”
“Such marriages take place continually.”
“I know they do; but all do not feel as I do.”
“I think your late husband would favor it. Think of your dependent condition. You have hard work to earn a poor living, and when the four hundred dollars which remain to you are gone, you will indeed be in a different position.”