The spring had now stolen on; Master Mumford's house was free; and Susan thought it her duty to tell George that she released him from his engagement. She was quite blind. No hope was held out to her of recovery. Her becoming the wife of a poor man, the mother of a poor man's children, was absolutely out of the question. She took the opportunity one day, when her father and mother were both present, to say to him, "The time is come, George, when I must give you up. You have been very good to me, and I shall feel your goodness as long as I live; but I cannot make you such a wife as a poor man ought to have: and now, George, here, before my father and mother, I give you back your word. The house next door is free, and you must give the 'squire's steward your answer; and so you had better go to Mr. Williams and give it up at once. I can never live there with you; and if--if you should--if you should marry another girl, George," she continued resolutely, though with a choking voice, "I could not bear to have her live there--no more could you, I am sure you could not; so you had better go to the 'squire's steward and tell him how it is!" She stopped, exhausted with the effort she had made. George stood by, grieved, distressed, uncertain how to act, or what to say. He loved Susan dearly, as dearly as ever; but it was true, she could not take care of a poor man's house. He was but a labourer; it was impossible he should earn enough to support her, and a person to do for her and the family they might have. It would be bringing her into a state of hopeless poverty and distress. He had no arguments to adduce, and yet he could not bear to break off his engagement. "What is to be done, dame?" at length he said, with the tears in his eyes. "I love your Susan, there, as dearly as ever I did, and I can't bear the thoughts of giving her up; and yet I have nothing to say against the reasons she has been bringing up against me. I am fairly puzzled what to do," he continued, rubbing his forehead. "I would not mind, if I thought I could keep her creditably; but if she and her children were to be brought to want, and I not able to earn a decent maintenance for them, why, I do think that would be worst of all."