She tried to look composed and
quiet, but it could not be done. She stood side by side with her
lover, with her head drooping, her cheeks burning, not daring to look
up or move, while her father made the newly-betrothed a somewhat
formal address in which he gave his consent, and many a piece of
worldly wisdom beside. Susan listened as well as she could for the
beating of her heart; but when her father solemnly and sadly referred
to his own lost wife, she could keep from sobbing no longer; but
throwing her apron over her face, she sat down on the bench by the
dresser, and fairly gave way to pent-up tears. Oh, how strangely
sweet to be comforted as she was comforted, by tender caress, and
many a low-whispered promise of love! Her father sat by the fire,
thinking of the days that were gone; Willie was still out of doors;
but Susan and Michael felt no one's presence or absence--they only
knew they were together as betrothed husband and wife.
In a week, or two, they were formally told of the arrangements to be
made in their favour. A small farm in the neighbourhood happened to
fall vacant; and Michael's father offered to take it for him, and be
responsible for the rent for the first year, while William Dixon was
to contribute a certain amount of stock, and both fathers were to
help towards the furnishing of the house.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42