He did not notice her
change of look and of complexion. He only noticed that she was
silent, so he continued--
"I thought--I think, that when I come back from this voyage, I will
speak. It's my fourth voyage in the same ship and with the same
captain, and he's promised he'll make me a second mate after this
trip; then I shall have something to offer Margaret; and her
grandfather, and Aunt Alice, shall live with her, and keep her from
being lonesome while I'm at sea. I'm speaking as if she cared for
me, and would marry me; d'ye think she does care at all for me,
Mary?" asked he anxiously.
Mary had a very decided opinion of her own on the subject, but she
did not feel as if she had any right to give it. So she said--
"You must ask Margaret, not me, Will; she's never named your name to
me." His countenance fell. "But I should say that was a good sign
from a girl like her. I've no right to say what I think; but, if I
was you, I would not leave her now without speaking."
"No! I cannot speak! I have tried. I've been in to wish them
good-bye, and my voice stuck in my throat.
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