“No, I don’t see nothink of the sort,” exclaimed Aunt Hannah. “Silas Lynn is a man of family; he comes of a pious stock, what tuk great care of their chaney, and mended their carpets, and polished up their furniture. Silas’s mother, what died of the asthmey, were as God-fearing and ’spectable a woman as wore shoe leather. Silas comes of a good stock, and that, in a case of weddin’, is much to be considered. I’m not saying anythink agen that young gel; she has right opinions, and she can be trained; but when all’s said and done, she’s a London gel, and she’s in rare luck to get Silas.”
“That’s wot I think, Aunt Hannah,” said Jill; she went up to Silas as she spoke and linked her hand in his arm. “I’m not ashamed to say, Silas,” she continued, looking him full in the face with a great tenderness filling her eyes, “that I love yer better each day. I’m abundantly willing to marry yer, Silas.”
“Thank you, my little gel,” said Silas. “Thank you, too, Aunt Hannah, but in a case like the present a man must judge for himself. I’ll ask yer now one plain question, Jill. Look solemn into yer ’eart, my gel, and tell me true as you wor standing afore the angels, is there no man on this ’arth what you love better nor me? You answer me that pint werry plain. Do you love me, Silas Lynn, better nor anyone else on God’s wide ’arth?”
Silas’s words, his attitude, the piercing way he looked at Jill had a great effect on all the visitors. Even Aunt Hannah began to feel that there was more in all this talk than appeared on the surface. As for Jill herself, she turned first pale, then rosy red. After a very short pause she said in a queer tone:
“I couldn’t tell yer a lie to-day, Silas. I can only say, let by-gones be by-gones, and I can faithfully promise afore God Almighty to make yer a good wife.”
“But I won’t have yer for a wife ef you don’t love me best of all,” said Silas. “Wait one moment, Jill. There’s someone else to have a say in this yere.” He walked across the room and flung the door open. “Come in, Nat Carter, and speak for yerself,” he called out. “Ef Jill can say as she loves me more than you, why I’ll take her to church and wed her. Ef not—now, Nat, come in and speak, man.”
There was a little buzz amongst the guests. Mary Ann Hatton was heard to say afterwards that she never felt nearer fainting in her life. She uttered a little gasp which no one heard; Aunt Hannah gave a snort which no one listened to. All the pairs of eyes were fixed on the handsome straight-looking young man who came into the room, who blushed as deeply as Jill did, and walked at once to her side.
“Jill,” he exclaimed, “there never wor such a noble fellow as this yere Silas Lynn. He ha’ put a deal o’ things straight ’tween you and me this morning, and if you still loves me best, why, sweet-heart.”
“Oh, Nat, I do, I do, I can’t help it,” exclaimed poor Jill. She flung herself into her lover’s arms, who kissed her passionately on her brow and lips.
“Take her out for a bit into the garden,” whispered Silas in a hoarse voice to the young man; “go away, both on yer, for a little, while I ’splain things to the neighbours.”