“In course I will, Silas.”
“Well, kiss me now. Give me a kiss of your own free will. Jest say over to yourself—‘By this time to-morrow Silas Lynn will be my husband, and I his wife. And Silas loves me.’ Say them winds over, werry solemn-like, to yourself, Jill, and then kiss me. There ain’t nothin’ in all the world I wouldn’t do for you, my little gel.”
Jill raised her face. She lifted her velvety, rose-bud lips to the man’s rough cheek. He ought her to him with frantic eagerness and pressed one kiss in return on her forehead, and left her, stumbling awkwardly out of the room, as though he were blind.
Chapter Seventeen.
When Silas returned to the cottage late that evening, he found Jonathan waiting for him with an expectant expression on his face.
“I ha’ redd up the whole place, master,” he said, “and brushed the path from the wicket up to the porch and I ha’ watered the flowers, and I think there ain’t nothink more to be done. Everythink is quite ready. I thought as you’d like me to put the place in order, seeing as you was late in comin’ home, master.”
“It’s all right, Jonathan,” said Silas in a gentle voice.
“Maybe as you’d like to look round, and see how I ha’ done it for yourself, master?”