The farmer stood for a few moments after this silent and thoughtful. Presently he drew a chair beside Jane’s and sat down. Upon this the girl was about to rise when he motioned her to keep her seat. She looked surprised, but said nothing. There they both sat for a short time without exchanging a word. Presently Richard Ashbrook broke the silence, which was becoming painful and perplexing to both. “Ye must know,” began the farmer, “that I ha’ something to say to ye. That be why I came here. I don’t want to open old wounds afresh, but there is a reason for yer droopin’ and droopin’ as ye have been for ever so long a time, and I mean to know what it be.” “I s’pose you can guess?” “Maybe I can; but I want to have it from yer own lips.” “Oh, sir, ye don’t want me to tell ’ee more than ye already know?” “Ye’ve mourning for one that be dead and gone. Is that it?” The girl nodded her head. “I knew it――I could ha’ sworn it. Well, Jane, it is no discredit to ye; still at the same time, gell, thee knows that the wisest and the best of us cannot recall the dead to life, and to cherish a hopeless sorrow is neither wise or discreet. I don’t wish to pain ye, but I tell ye plainly that you are altogether wrong. You are young, and although yer have gone through a deal o’ trouble that is no reason why you should let the past embitter your life.” “You are quite right, Mr. Richard――it shall not do so.” “But it does, lass, anyone can see that it does. Tell me, do ye think yourself the same gell as came here some five year and a half agone?” “I hope I am,” she murmured; “time has changed me a little, I suppose.” “Jane,” said Ashbrook, “we are one an’ all of us fond of ye. I had somethin’ to say that mustn’t go unsaid. Listen――ye’d not disgrace any man, and ye’d be no discredit to any farmer as the mistress o’ his house――as his wife――do ye understand what I mean?” “Yes.” “Well, then, I don’t want to see ’ee fade away before my very eyes, under my very nose. I can’t and won’t stand that, an’ ye shall not if I can help it.” Then he took her hand in his own and said, in a voice broken by emotion―― “I love ye, Jane.” Then he placed his other arm across her shoulders and said no more. The pale cheeks of Jane Ryan were suffused with a deep flush of red, in another moment they became paler than ever. “Ah! ah!” she ejaculated, after a pause――“ah, Mr. Richard, ye do not know what ye’ve been sayin’.” “Don’t I?” said the farmer, resolutely――“don’t I?” “I do not think so.” “Well, then, if it comes to that, I will say it agin. I love ye. I’ll deal honest and fair by ye. If thee likest, if ye’ll consent, ye shall be my wife.” He drew her towards him, and imprinted on her lips the first kiss of pure love. “Ye mek no answer,” he murmured. “Speak, gell.” “I bid ye think agen, Mr. Ashbrook,” answered Jane. “Think agen.” “I have thought of it over and over agen. What need is there o’ further thinkin’ when a man has made up his mind?”