Joan.  Indeed, Mister Jenner.  I wonder what that can be.

Luke.  ’Tis just like this, Miss Clara.  The day I first heard as you was coming down here—­“I could do with a rich wife if so be as I could win her,” I did tell myself.

Joan.  O, Mister Jenner, now did you really?

Luke.  But when I met you in the wood—­saw you sitting there, so still and yet so bright, so fine and yet so homely.  “That’s the maid for me,” I says to myself.

Joan. [Tearfully.] O, Mister Jenner!

Luke.  And if it had been beggar’s rags upon her in the place of satin, I’d have said the same.

Joan. [Very much stirred.] O, Mister Jenner, and did you really think like that?

Luke.  If all the gold that do lie atween me and you was sunk in the deep ocean, ’twould be the best as could happen.  There!

Joan. [Faintly.] O, Mister Jenner, why?

Luke.  Because, very like ’twould shew to you as ’tis yourself I’m after and not the fortune what you’ve got.

Joan.  Mister Jenner, I’m mighty sorry.

Luke.  Don’t say I’m come too late, Miss Clara.

Joan.  You are.  Mister Hooper was before you.  And now, ’tis he and
I who are like to be wed.

Luke.  I might have known I had no chance.

Joan. [Rising and trying to hide her emotion.] I wouldn’t have had it happen so for the world, Mr. Jenner.

Luke. [Laying his bunch of flowers on the table, his head bent, and his eyes on the ground.] ’Twas none of your doing, Miss Clara.  You’ve naught to blame yourself for.  ’Tis not your fault as you’re made so—­so beautiful, and yet so homely.

[Joan looks at him irresolutely for a moment and then precipitately leaves the room.

[Luke folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them in an attitude of deepest despondency.  After a few moments Clara enters.

Clara.  O, Mister Jenner, what has happened to you?

Luke. [Raising his head and pointing to the window.] There she goes, through the garden with her lover.

Clara.  I wish that you were in his place.

Luke. [Bitterly.] I’ve no house with golden rails to offer her. 
Nor any horse and chaise.

Clara.  But you carry a heart within you that is full of true love.

Luke.  What use is the love which be fastened up in a man’s heart and can spend itself on naught, I’d like to know. [He rises as though to go and take up the bunch of flowers which has been lying on the table.  Brokenly.] I brought them for her.  But I count as he’ll have given her something better nor these.

[Clara takes the flowers gently from his hand, and as she does so, Emily enters.