Lovel waited gravely, the shadow of his hat heavy across his eyes.
Now that Daisy was face to face with him, she was at a loss how to begin; she could not just blurt out her story and ask him to marry her; and anyway, he made her feel so insignificant, sitting there on a great horse like an idol, or like one of those soldiers she’d seen pictures of, in a steel helmet and a leather jacket and an upright lance in his hand. She told him this, and he listened unbending, silhouetted for her against the sky, mollified neither by her archness nor by her genuine confusion. “Oh, well, if you will have it up there,” she said at last in despair, “I’ll have to shout it up to you, but surely a poor girl never told a story in such a gawk of a position.”
She began then, but, disconcerted, she began as she had not meant to begin, by saying “Do you recollect the Scouring this year?” and then hastily correcting herself, “No, no, I don’t mean that at all, what I mean is, your young brother Olver....”
“No, I don’t mean that either,” she said, seeing that his expression had become, if anything, a little sterner at the mention of Olver’s name. “It’s like this,” she said desperately, “I’m over to Starvecrow now, at Mr. Calladine’s, but it’s a question how long I’ll be able to remain in the place. And I thought that you, Nick Lovel, being a decent man in spite of all your pride, would be the last one not to help a poor girl when she had no one but you to turn to, and afraid to face her own parents, and not so much as a married sister she could go to, or a penny of money saved, seeing Mr. Calladine’s is my first place and Dad never paid me for the work I did on the farm, but a bit now and then to buy myself a pair of new shoes or a ribbon, and anything I had went on muslin for a dress to the Scouring, which I made myself instead of taking it to the dressmaker in Marlborough same as Annabel Blagdon. And it isn’t for Mr. Calladine’s getting married that I do be afraid of leaving the place, but for my own trouble, and that’s a thing that Mrs. Quince is bound to find out sooner or later, and the only wonder is she hasn’t started asking questions already, but now every time she opens her mouth I’m feared it’s coming that I do feel my cheeks going all patchy, red and white, same as sometimes in the spring ’mong boys and girls. But I knew if I came to you, you would see it in the Christian light, and I could give in my notice and say I was leaving to get married, and ’twould be all envy and bless-you-Daisy, and Come-and-see-us-when-you’re-a-married-woman, instead of Out-you-go-you-wanton-sheltering-behind-a-proper-gentleman’s-name.”
“What in God’s name are you trying to tell me?” said Lovel.
“I’m trying to tell you I’m going to have a baby,” replied Daisy, beginning to cry in good earnest.
“Well, that’s no affair of mine; what is it you want of me?” said Lovel. “If it’s money you want, you’re welcome to anything I can spare,—if you will only let me go my ways now,” he added inaudibly.
“What good would money be to me,” sobbed Daisy, “when I haven’t a home to go to or a man to give me his name? My father’d turn me out, I know he would,—he wouldn’t give me a corner of his barn or a truss of his hay for my baby to be born on, he wouldn’t, and my mother wouldn’t give me my own long-clothes to clothe its nakedness.”
“You must get the fellow to marry you,—is he a native of these parts?” asked Lovel, perfunctorily, aware only of the overwhelming oppression of his own spirit and his urgent longing for solitude.