Duncombe, and they thought it might be better if I left
Manchester for a bit; they'd recommend me to some other place."
But Mary could only shake her head in a mournful way, and repeat her
words--
"They might have known thee better, Jem."
Jem pressed the little hand he held between his own work-hardened
ones. After a minute or two, he asked--
"Mary, art thou much bound to Manchester? Would it grieve thee sore
to quit the old smoke-jack?"
"With thee?" she asked, in a quiet, glancing way.
"Ay, lass! Trust me, I'll never ask thee to leave Manchester while
I'm in it. Because I have heard fine things of Canada; and our
overlooker has a cousin in the foundry line there. Thou knowest
where Canada is, Mary?"
"Not rightly--not now, at any rate;--but with thee, Jem," her voice
sunk to a soft, low whisper, "anywhere"--
What was the use of a geographical description?
"But father!" said Mary, suddenly breaking that delicious silence
with the one sharp discord in her present life.
She looked up at her lover's grave face; and then the message her
father had sent flashed across her memory.
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