I’ll ne’er ha’ no more to say to thee. If thou can do wi’out me I can do wi’out thee.’ And then I geet agate o’ cryin’. ‘Eh,’ I said, ‘I didna think thou’d sarve me that gate. Thou’rt a false ’ard-’arted deceivin’ felly—that’s what thou art, Will Davis! What brought thee here wi’ thy soft words, an’ thy lovin’ ways—lees all on ’em—to tak’ all as I had, and mysel’ along wi’ it—to tee me, hand and foot, and then to go away and leave me?’ I throwed apron over my head and sobbed like a child, but my cheeks were as hot as two coals wi’ anger. First Will tried to pull away th’ apron, but I held fast and stopped my ears as soon as ever he began o’ speakin’, and arter a bit he gave o’er, and went away whistlin’. I wouldna speak a word all that day, nor yet the next, though I see him gettin’ together his things and makkin’ ready. “Late i’ th’ arternoon he coom and stood by my cheer. “‘My wench,’ says he, ‘sin’ thou wunnot speak to me nor look at me, I may as well be off at wonst. Captain towd me jine him soon as ever I could.’ My heart wur like lead, but I kept my face turned away from him. ‘Well,’ says I, ‘sin’ thou wants to go, thou can go for aught I care.’ He stood a bit longer, and then he stooped his face down to mine. ‘Coom, Molly,’ he says, ‘gie us a kiss, and let’s part good freends. Thou’rt a bit vexed still, but when thou cooms to think it ower thou’lt see I wur nobbut reet. A man mun stick to the lot he’s chose.’ “‘And what about the wife he’s chose?’ cries I. And I pushed away his face and pushed back cheer. ‘Nay, I’ll noan gi’e thee a kiss. Go thy ways and leave me.’ He waited a bit longer, but I didn’t turn my head; and then he took up his bundle and went out. I heard his step on th’ sand, very slow and lingerin’, and then I heard his tap on th’ window. ‘Coom, my wench,’ he called out; ‘gi’e us a look then. Gi’e us a look sin’ thou’lt gie me naught else.’ “But I hitched my cheer round and turned my back on him. Eh, my lad! Eh, my poor lad, I might ha’ seen thy bonny face then and I wouldna look. Eh, I wonder the Lord didna strike me down dead that day for my wicked pride and anger.” She brought down one clenched hand upon the open palm of the other with such sudden fiery energy that for a moment the veil of years was lifted, and I saw before me the passionate, resentful girl-wife who has sent her husband from her with such a sore and angry heart. By-and-by I saw tears upon her withered cheeks, and gently patting the nearest hand I said consolingly, “Do not fret; it is all over long ago, and you know you told me you felt he had forgiven you.”