[She holds the bowl before him for him to drink.  As he takes it, he drops a ring into the water.  He then drinks and hands the bowl back to Millie.  For a moment she gazes speechless at the bottom of the bowl.  Then she lifts the ring from it and would drop the bowl but for may, who takes it from her.

Millie.  Master, from whom did you get this?

Giles.  Look well at the stones of it, mistress, for they are clouded and dim.

Millie.  And not more clouded than the heart which is in me, master.  O do you bring me news?

Giles.  Is it not all too late for news, mistress?

Millie.  Not if it be the news for which my heart craves, master.

Giles.  And what would that be, mistress?

[Millie goes to Giles, and with both hands slowly pushes back his big hat and gazes at him.

Millie.  O Giles, my true love.  You are come just in time.  Another hour and I should have been wed.

Giles.  And so you knew me, Mill?

Millie.  O Giles, no change of any sort could hide you from the eyes of my love.

Giles.  Your love, Millie.  And is that still mine?

Millie.  It always has been yours, Giles.  O I will go with you so gladly in poor clothing and in hunger all over the face of the earth.

[She goes to him and clasps his arm; and, standing by his side, faces all those in the room.

Elizabeth. [Angrily.] Please to come to your right senses, Millie.

Daniel.  Come, Andrew, set your foot down as I’ve set mine.

Andrew.  Nay, master.  There’s naught left for me to say.  The heart does shew us better nor all words which way we have to travel.

May.  And are you going to marry a beggar man instead of Andrew, who looks so brave and fine in his wedding clothes, Millie?

Millie.  I am going to marry him I have always loved, May—­and—­O Andrew, I never bore you malice, though I did say cruel and hard words to you sometimes.—­But you’ll not remember me always—­you will find gladness too, some day.

Andrew.  I count as I shall, Millie.

Daniel.  Come, come, I’ll have none of this—­my daughter wed to a beggar off the highway!  Mother, ’tis time you had a word here.

Elizabeth.  No, Father, I’ll leave you to manage this affair.  ’Tis you who have spoiled Mill and brought her up so wayward and unruly, and ’tis to you I look for to get us out of this unpleasant position.

May.  Dear Millie—­don’t wed my brother Giles.  Why, look at his ragged smock and his bare feet.

Millie.  I shall be proud to go bare too, so long as I am by his side, May.

[Giles goes to the door and blows his whistle three times and loudly.