Her husband stood looking at her tenderly, yearningly. He was thinking of her future, and of the trusting soul that had come to his keeping.
“Well, they are all gone now,” he said, “and what was that you threw away?”
She shook her head piteously. He waited for her answer, and marvelled that she, who had gone through the marriage ceremony in such a brave and happy spirit, was now so white and trembling. Surely, she had not begun to fear him? Poor little frightened bride!
“I din nod mean to throw it away,” she said brokenly. “I coon nod help me.”
“Oh, you are trembling about what you threw away? Well, let me go after it. Such a little mite of a hand cannot fling very far.”
“No, no,” she said, catching at his sleeve, “do not touch it. The gods may punish you also.”
He enclosed her hands in his, and looked at her very seriously.
“You must not talk of ‘the gods,’ my wife. It sounds pagan, and I am going to cure you of the habit.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, and now she was almost sobbing; “pray you do so, ple-ase. I am most ignorant girl in all the whole worl’. I like know about those gods. Pray tell me truth, will you not?”
He could not understand the meaning of her beseeching voice. How could he suppose that she still dreaded the thought that he was a priest of a possible evil spirit? She wanted to be reassured. He only saw that she was very white and trembling, now that the ceremony was over, and he dimly realized that in marrying him she had sacrificed much.