It was not the suddenness of his coming; it was the suddenness of her own heart, which leaped up with the feelings called out by his words.  She went very white, and sat down on the ground as before.  But she rose again immediately, and stood, with drooping, averted head.  He had dropped her hand, but now sought to take it again.

“Maggie, darling, may I speak?” Her lips moved, he saw, but he could not hear.  A pang of affright ran through him that, perhaps, she did not wish to listen.  “May I speak to you?” he asked again, quite timidly.  She tried to make her voice sound, but it would not; so she looked round.  Her soft gray eyes were eloquent in that one glance.  And, happier than his words, passionate and tender as they were, could tell, he spoke till her trembling was changed into bright flashing blushes, and even a shy smile hovered about her lips, and dimpled her cheeks.

The water bubbled over the pitcher unheeded.  At last she remembered all the work-a-day world.  She lifted up the jug, and would have hurried home, but Frank decidedly took it from her.

“Henceforward,” said he, “I have a right to carry your burdens.”  So with one arm round her waist and with the other carrying the water, they climbed the steep turfy slope.  Near the top she wanted to take it again.

“Mamma will not like it.  Mamma will think if so strange.”

“Why, dearest, if I saw Nancy carrying it up this slope I would take it from her.  It would be strange if a man did not carry it for any woman.  But you must let me tell your mother of my right to help you.  If is your dinner-time is it not?  I may come in to dinner as one of the family may not I Maggie?”

“No” she said softly.  For she longed to be alone; and she dreaded being overwhelmed by the expression of her mother’s feelings, weak and agitated as she felt herself.  “Not to-day.”

“Not to-day!” said he reproachfully.  “You are very hard upon me.  Let me come to tea.  If you will, I will leave you now.  Let me come to early tea.  I must speak to my father.  He does not know I am here.  I may come to tea.  At what time is it?  Three o’clock.  Oh, I know you drink tea at some strange early hour; perhaps it is at two.  I will take care to be in time.”

“Don’t come till five, please.  I must tell mamma; and I want some time to think.  It does seem so like a dream.  Do go, please.”

“Well! if I must, I must.  But I don’t feel as if I were in a dream, but in some real blessed heaven so long as I see you.”

At last he went.  Nancy was awaiting Maggie, the side-gate.

“Bless us and save us, bairn! what a time it has taken thee to get the water.  Is the spring dry with the hot weather?”