I own that as I sent the poor soul on her way, with a promise that the gig should carry back her boxes from Vellingey and a secret resolve that she should return to us within a week, I could not avoid a foolish pleasure in the thought that Margit deemed my coming of such importance.  Then it occurred to me that her position now as a single woman alone at Vellingey lay open to scandal.  The sooner I tested my growing hopes, the better.

I did so, the second evening, after supper.  Obed had stepped out to make the round of the farm buildings and lock up.  Margit had removed the white cloth, and was setting the brass candlesticks and tobacco jar on the uncovered table.

“What is going to happen about Selina?” I asked, from my chair.

Margit set down a candlestick.  “Selina has gone,” she said quietly.

“But people will talk, if you stay here alone with us, or with Obed.  You mustn’t mind my saying this.”

“Oh, no.  I suppose they will talk.”

I stood up.  “I take it,” said I, “you cannot be quite blind to my feelings, Margit.  I came home on purpose to speak to you:  but perhaps, if it had not been for this, I might have put off speaking for some days.  If you care for me at all, though, I think you can answer.  My dear, if you will marry me it will make me a happy man.”

She was fingering the candle-base, just touching the brass with her finger-tips and withdrawing them gently.  She looked up.  “I rather thought,” she said, “you would have spoken last night.  Obed asked me this morning—­he gave you that chance:  and I have promised to marry him.”

“Good Lord! but this is a question of loving a man!”

“I have never said that I like you better.  I shall make Obed a very good wife.”

Less than a minute later, Obed came into the room, after slamming the back-door loudly.  He did not look at our faces:  but I am sure that he knew exactly what had happened.

They were married in April, a fortnight after my leaving England on another voyage.  We parted the best of friends; and in the course of the next seven years I spent most of my holidays with them.  No married life could well be smoother than was Obed’s and Margit’s in all this time.  He worshipped her to fondness; and she, without the least parade of affection, seemed to make his comfort and well-being the business of her life.  It hardly needs to be said that my unfortunate proposal was ignored by all of us as a thing that had never happened.

In October, 1802, I reached the height of my ambition, being appointed to the command of the Company’s ship Macartney, engaged in the China traffic.  I call her the Macartney:  but the reader will presently see that I have reasons for not wishing to make public the actual name of this vessel, which, however, will be sufficiently familiar to all who knew me at that time and who have therefore what I may call a private interest in this narrative.  For the same reason I shall say no more of her than that she was a new ship, Thames-built, and more than commonly fast; and that I commanded her from October 1802 to June 1806.