In the corner of the meadow near the house, the cows, looming large and mysterious and unfamiliar, were waiting with hanging heads, and John stood and looked at them in a kind of dream before he fetched his pail and stool and settled down to work. His hands were not steady and the cow was restless at his touch, and when he spoke to her the sound of his own voice startled him, for the world was leagued with silence and even the hissing of the milk into the pail had the extravagance of a cascade. As he worked, he watched the house. No smoke came from its chimneys, but at length he heard the opening of a door and Lily Brent appeared. He thought she was like the morning, fresh and young, with all the promise and danger of a new day, and while he looked at her his hands dropped idle. She stood on the step and nodded to him before she walked across the grass. "You here alone?" she said, and there was a fine frown on her brow. "Where's the rest of them? If I don't rout them out myself--" "Don't," he said. "It's early, and it's Sunday morning. They'll come soon enough." He stood up and rested his folded arms on the cow's back and looked at Lily. "She'll have the pail over," she warned him quickly. He put it out of danger and returned. "You haven't fetched my stool," she said. "I forgot it. Wait a bit. I'll get it soon." "What's the matter with you this morning? We're wasting time." "Let's waste time," he said. He looked round at the mists floating off the moor. The light was clearing; the cows had dwindled; the road was no longer a fairy flood but a highway for the feet of men. "I want you to pretend it's yesterday," he said. "What's the matter with you, John?" "I'm going to tell you. Will you pretend it's yesterday?" "Yes. It's Saturday morning, a busy day for us. We ought to get to work." "Come a step nearer," he said, and she obeyed. He clutched the hair on the cow's back and spoke in a harsh voice. "Will you marry me?" he said, frowning and looking her in the eyes. "I've hardly any money, but I love you. I want you. I didn't know what to do. If I'd waited till I had as much as you, I might have lost you. I didn't know what to do, but I thought I'd tell you." "You needn't explain any more," she said. Her hands, too, fell on the cow's back, and with a little movement she bade him take them. He gathered her fingers into his and turned and twisted them. "I thought--if you wanted me--why should we live on opposite sides of the way? I can help you--and I love you." He relied on that. "I love you," he said again. He heard her ask softly, "Why?" "Because--because--oh, you're all I want. You're like the earth, like herbs, like fresh green grass. I've got your hands: give me the rest of you!" Her eyes flashed open, he saw and heard her laugh, and their lips met across the bulky barrier.