'"Canst thou be satisfied with dry bread and salt?"
'"Rather salt from thee than tears from me!"
'"Martha, I will work for thee; wilt thou save for me?"
'"I will be sparing in everything, except my own pains!"
'"Well then, darling, here is my hand! Take it. Wilt thou be mine?"
'"Was I not thine eight years ago and more? Even as a child? Yet no! It ought not to be, Jonas."
'Alarmed, he looked in her face, and asked: "Not be? and why?"
'"Think well over it, Jonas! Do thyself no injustice. I am a poor creature, without portion or property. Any other burgher's daughter in the town would be glad to give thee her hand and heart, and a good dowry beside. Thou mightst live much better."
'"Say nothing about that," cried Jonas, stretching out both his hands imploringly. "Be still: I shall feel that I am but beginning to live, if thou wilt promise to live with me."
'"Live, then!" said she, in blushing embarrassment, and gave him her hand.