"Indeed! She was just my own age. She was a single-hearted girl."
"She often inquired for you. You never fancied yourself in love with her?"
"No. Why that question?"
"She was under the impression that we were engaged, and seemed quite relieved when I informed her that she was mistaken."
"What has become of Mary Carver?"
"She is married, and lives in that house," pointing to a miserable hut near at hand.
"Is it possible?"
"Her husband is intemperate. It was a clandestine marriage—a love match, you know."
"Was her husband intemperate when she married him?"
"Not habitually so. He was so very romantic and devoted to her; so that, I suppose, she thought she could reform him."