"
Mary lay down on her bed in her clothes; and whether it was this, or
the broad day-light that poured in through the sky window, or
whether it was over-excitement, it was long before she could catch a
wink of sleep. Her thoughts ran on Jem's manner and words; not but
what she had known the tale they told for many a day; but still she
wished he had not put it so plainly.
"O dear," said she to herself, "I wish he would not mistake me so; I
never dare to speak a common word o' kindness, but his eye brightens
and his cheek flushes. It's very hard on me; for father and George
Wilson are old friends; and Jem and I ha' known each other since we
were quite children. I cannot think what possesses me, that I must
always be wanting to comfort him when he's downcast, and that I must
go meddling wi' him to-night, when sure enough it was his aunt's
place to speak to him. I don't care for him, and yet, unless I'm
always watching myself, I'm speaking to him in a loving voice. I
think I cannot go right, for I either check myself till I'm
downright cross to him, or else I speak just natural, and that's too
kind and tender by half.
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