‘Furniture!’ said Kester, in grim surprise.  ‘What’s to come o’ t’ missus and thee, that yo’ll not need a bed to lie on, or a pot to boil yo’r vittel in?’

Sylvia reddened, but kept silence.

‘Cannot yo’ speak?’

‘Oh, Kester, I didn’t think thou’d turn again’ me, and me so friendless.  It’s as if I’d been doin’ something wrong, and I have so striven to act as is best; there’s mother as well as me to be thought on.’

‘Cannot yo’ answer a question?’ said Kester, once more.  ’Whatten’s up that t’ missus and yo’ll not need bed and table, pots and pans?’

‘I think I’m going to marry Philip,’ said Sylvia, in so low a tone, that if Kester had not suspected what her answer was to be, he could not have understood it.

After a moment’s pause he recommenced his walk towards the field-gate.  But she went after him and held him tight by the arm, speaking rapidly.

’Kester, what could I do?  What can I do?  He’s my cousin, and mother knows him, and likes him; and he’s been so good to us in a’ this time o’ trouble and heavy grief, and he’ll keep mother in comfort all t’ rest of her days.’

’Ay, and thee in comfort.  There’s a deal in a well-filled purse in a wench’s eyes, or one would ha’ thought it weren’t so easy forgettin’ yon lad as loved thee as t’ apple on his eye.’

‘Kester, Kester,’ she cried, ’I’ve niver forgotten Charley; I think on him, I see him ivery night lying drowned at t’ bottom o’ t’ sea.  Forgetten him!  Man! it’s easy talking!’ She was like a wild creature that sees its young, but is unable to reach it without a deadly spring, and yet is preparing to take that fatal leap.  Kester himself was almost startled, and yet it was as if he must go on torturing her.

‘An’ who telled thee so sure and certain as he were drowned?  He might ha’ been carried off by t’ press-gang as well as other men.’

‘Oh! if I were but dead that I might know all!’ cried she, flinging herself down on the hay.

Kester kept silence.  Then she sprang up again, and looking with eager wistfulness into his face, she said,—­

‘Tell me t’ chances.  Tell me quick!  Philip’s very good, and kind, and he says he shall die if I will not marry him, and there’s no home for mother and me,—­no home for her, for as for me I dunnot care what becomes on me; but if Charley’s alive I cannot marry Philip—­no, not if he dies for want o’ me—­and as for mother, poor mother, Kester, it’s an awful strait; only first tell me if there’s a chance, just one in a thousand, only one in a hundred thousand, as Charley were ta’en by t’ gang?’ She was breathless by this time, what with her hurried words, and what with the beating of her heart.  Kester took time to answer.  He had spoken before too hastily, this time he weighed his words.