‘Then she is so beautiful—so full of life, and spirit, and dash. I can’t imagine how you came to think of her.’ There was a pause, during which Isaac meditatively smoked and rubbed his knees. ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I did n’t exactly think of it myself, ye see—but I could n’t someways find it in my heart to say No.’ ‘To say what?’ cried the young man, dropping his hands and whisking round in his chair. Isaac gazed at him mildly, and continued to polish his corduroys. ‘To say No,’ he repeated, slightly uplifting his voice, and speaking very slowly and distinctly. ‘I say I could n’t find it i’ my ’eart to—say—No—when she axed me!’ ‘She asked you! Do you mean to say that the proposal came from her?’ His uncle nodded. ‘’T war n’t very likely it ’ud ha’ come fro’ me,’ he remarked dispassionately. ‘As I told her at the time, I never was a marryin’ man.’ A silence ensued, during which Richard vainly endeavoured to readjust his ideas. At length he said faintly: ‘And what did she say to that?’ ‘She said,’ returned Farmer Sharpe stolidly, ‘that it would n’t be a bad thing for me—“’t is a fine farm,” says she, “and a good business. You could easy work the two farms together,” says she.’ Richard gazed at his uncle with starting eyes and a dropping jaw. ‘But why, in the name of Fortune?’ he ejaculated. ‘I could understand her marrying again—but why you?’ ‘She knowed I’d work the farm right, d’ ye see? Things was goin’ wrong all round, and she knowed I understood the work. Ah, I told her myself at the time that she ought to look out for a younger man; but she says, “I don’t want no counter-jumpers,” says she—meanin’ the Branston folks. Ah, there were a good few after her, but she did n’t fancy none o’ them. She thought some was arter the money, and none o’ them knowed anythin’ about dairy-farmin’.’ ‘In fact,’ struck in Richard, rising from his chair and beginning to pace hastily about the room, ‘she has proved herself to be a most practical woman. You won’t make away with her money—you won’t allow mismanagement of the business.’ ‘Jist so,’ agreed his uncle, sucking vigorously at his partially extinguished pipe. Richard continued to walk about the room, and presently paused opposite the hearth. ‘Did she make an offer to Elias Fiander too?’ he inquired sharply. Isaac removed his pipe and stared up at him. The idea was evidently presented to him for the first time. ‘He never telled me so,’ he said. ‘It were made up in a hurry, to be sure. ’Lias had n’t no notion o’ sich a thing when he started off from here. He went arter a turnip-hoer arter her granfer’s death. They sold ’en up, poor old chap, and Rosalie—that’s Mrs. Fiander—had n’t nowhere to go.’ ‘Ha!’ remarked Richard sardonically.