"Noo, this is no usin me quite weel," said she, "no to be here," (a mere blind, thinks I, to mak me think she doesna ken I'm lyin slouchin at her very side), "when I had sae muckle to say to him. Though I was shy to him the last time I saw him, he might hae learned eneugh o' the heart o' woman to ken that we hae certain arts and wiles, and guiles about us--a kind o' secret charms--to increase an affection that we think over languid, and bring it out o' the dead-thraw o' a starved love into the warm life o' a lively passion. It canna be, that, after sae lang a period o' lookin, followin, and languishin, he doesna like me. If he only kenned the condition o' this puir, flutterin, beatin heart, that fears to listen to its ain timid voice, as if it were treason to love--how muckle mair wad he prize my sittin here, invitin--wae's my puir prudence!--thae very attractions I used to flee frae! But woman, weak woman, is doomed to be the sport o' men, as weel as o' her ain heart." It was noo clearly my time to pounce. In fack, the young woman was invitin me. Up I sprang, like a jungle thief. "How can you sit there, May," said I, "kennin I was lyin sneakin there under that broom bush, and yet abusin a faithfu creature for being slow and languid in his love, when last Sabbath ye flew frae him wi' a' the pith o' a bitter hatred disgust, and scorn! Languid in _my_ affection! Is _that_ like languidness?" (Throwing my arms fully around her, so as to include, if possible, the hail body in my ample embrace.) "Is _that_, dear May, like love in the dead-thraw? If _that's_ no a sign" (still pressing her, as she struggled and cried) "o' the warm life o' a lively passion, as ye ca'd it, I kenna what it is?"