George resumed.  “I’ve often had it on my mind to speak to you, but I was ashamed, now that’s the truth; but now I am going away from her I must speak out, and I will—­William!”

“Yes, George?”

“You’ve taken—­a fancy—­to my Susan, William!”

At these words, which, though they had cost him so much to say, George spoke gravely and calmly like common words, William gave one startled look all round, then buried his face directly in his hands in a paroxysm of shame.

Susan, who was looking at George, remonstrated loudly, “How can you be so silly, George!  I am sure that is the last idea poor William—­”

George drew her attention to William by a wave of the hand.

She held her tongue in a moment, and turned very red, and lowered her eyes to the ground.  It was a very painful situation—­to none more than to Meadows, who was waiting his turn.

George continued:  “Oh, it is not to reproach you, my poor lad.  Who could be near her, and not warm to her?  But she is my lass, Will, and no other man’s.  It is three years since she said the word.  And though it was my hard luck there should be some coolness between us this bitter day, she will think of me when the ocean rolls between us if no villain undermines me—­”

“Villain!  George!” groaned William.  “That is a word I never thought to hear from you.”

“That’s why I speak in time,” said George.  “I do suppose I am safe against villainy here.”  And his eye swept lightly over both the men.  “Anyway, it shan’t be a mistake or a misunderstanding; it shall be villainy if ’tis done.  Speak, Susanna Merton, and speak your real mind once for all.”

“Oh!  George,” cried Susan, fluttering with love; “you shall not go in doubt of me.  We are betrothed this three years, and I never regretted my choice a single moment.  I never saw, I never shall see, the man I could bear to look on beside you, my beautiful George.  Take my ring and my promise, George.”  And she put her ring on his little finger and kissed his hand.  “While you are true to me, nothing but death shall part us twain.  There never was any coolness between us, dear; you only thought so.  You don’t know what fools women are; how they delight to tease the man they love, and so torment themselves ten times more.  I always loved you, but never as I do to-day; so honest, so proud, so unfortunate; I love you, I honor you, I adore you, oh! my love!—­my love!—­my love!!”

She saw but George—­she thought but of George—­and how to soften his sorrow, and remove his doubts, if he had any.  And she poured out these words of love with her whole soul—­with blushes and tears and all the fire of a chaste and passionate woman’s heart.  And she clung to her love; and her tender bosom heaved against his; and she strained him, with tears and sighs, to her bosom; and he kissed her beautiful head; and his suffering heart drew warmth from this heavenly contact.