"What then, sweetheart?"
"Perchance I should not tell you," she said, with some hesitation; and then she said, more frankly, "Nay, why should there be any concealment between us, Judith? And he laid no charge of secrecy on me—in truth, I said that I would think of it, and might even ask for counsel and guidance. He would have made me his wife, Judith."
Judith betrayed no atom of surprise, nay, she almost instantly smiled her approval—it was a kind of friendly congratulation, as it were—and she would have reached out her hand only that she was so weak.
"I am glad of that, dear mouse," said she, as pleasantly as she could. "There would you be in your proper place; is't not so? And what said you? what said you, sweetheart? Ah, they all would welcome you, be sure; and a parson's wife—a parson's wife, Prudence—would not that be your proper place? would you not be happy so?"
"I know not," the girl said, and she spoke wistfully, and as if she were regarding distant things. "He had nearly persuaded me, good heart, for indeed there is such power and clearness in all he says; and it was almost put before me as a duty, and something incumbent on me, for the pleasing of all of them, and the being useful and serviceable to so many; and then—and then——"
There was another timid glance, and she took Judith's hand; and her eyes were downcast as she made the confession:
"Nay, I will tell thee the truth, sweetheart. Had he spoken to me earlier—I—I might not have said him nay—so good a man and earnest withal, and not fearing to give offence if he can do true service to the Master of us all. Judith, if it be unmaidenly, blame me not, but at one time I had thoughts of him; and sometimes, ashamed, I would not go to your house when he was there in the afternoon, though Julius wondered, seeing that there was worship and profitable expounding. But now—now—now 'tis different."
"Why, dear mouse, why?" Judith said, with some astonishment; "you must not flout the good man. 'Tis an honorable offer."
Prudence was looking back on that past time.
"If he had spoken then," she said, absently, "my heart would have rejoiced; and well I knew 'twould have been no harm to you, dear Judith, for who could doubt how you were inclined—ay, through all your quarrels and misunderstandings? And if 'twas you the good parson wished for in those days——"