“Now, don’t you speak in them stiff tones. Say ‘Silas,’ my pretty. Say ‘I’ll be quite true to you, Silas.’”
“I’ll be quite true to you, Silas,” repeated Jill.
“And you love me?”
“I—I’ll try.”
“Look you yere, Jill—” Silas was getting command of the situation now. His heart was opening out under these full beams of love and rapture. “Look you yere,” he said, “ef you’re true to me, Jill Robinson, and ef you love me even a little, and think nothink of no other feller—why, now I swear as there ain’t gel in the land as ’ull have a better husband. There’ll be love all round you, Jill; and what can’t that do? And ef I’m rough to outsiders you’ll never see nothink o’ it, my little gel; your wishes ’ull be mine, and your friends ’ull be mine, and your fancies will be my fancies. Day and night I’ll serve yer; and there ain’t any gel, no, not even if she’s a princess, ’ull have a truer mate. I wor a good son to my mother wots in ’eaven, and I’ll be a good husband to you, you pretty bit of a dainty flower—ef you’ll do your part. Faithful and true, that’s all I arsk. Is it a bargain, Jill? As to the money part, I could give yer ten times five pounds, ef yer wanted it—that’s neither here nor there; but the other part of the bond I must ha’ your promise on. Faithful and true—you’ll be that. D’ye hear me, Jill?”
“Yes,” said Jill, “I’ll do my part. I’ll think o’ none but you; I’ll be true to you in word and deed.”
“Then that’s right. I’ll ask no more questions. There’s a home for yer mother in my ’ouse, Jill, and full and plenty for you from this moment forward; and we’ll get spliced up as soon as may be, gel.”
“But the money,” said Jill. “It’s part of the bond between us, that I should ha’ the money and no questions asked.”
“You shall ha’ the money, and I’ll ask no questions, ef you don’t want to tell me.”
“I can’t tell you, Mr Lynn. The money were give to me in trust, and it got lost, although no one stole it. I must give it back to the one wot’s lent it to me this werry arternoon.”