, at least, that De Arthenay spoke;
and Marie listened quietly, too, plaiting her apron, between her
fingers, and forgetting for the moment to make the horns with her left
hand. Briefly, he asked her to be his wife; to come home with him, and
keep his house, and share good and evil with him. He would take care
of her, he said, and--and--he trusted the Lord would bless the union.
If his voice shook now and then, if he kept his eyes lowered, that
neither woman should see the light and the struggle in them, that was
his own affair; he spoke quietly to the end, and then drew a long
breath, feeling that he had come through better than he had expected.

Abby looked for an outburst of some kind from Marie, whether of tears
or of sudden childish fear or anger; but neither came. Marie thanked
Monsieur, and said he was very kind, very kind indeed. She would like
to think about it a little, if they pleased; she would do all she could
to please them, but she was very young, and she would like to take
time, if Monsieur thought it not wrong: and so rising from her seat,
she made a little courtesy, with her eyes still on the ground, and
slipped away out of the room, and was gone.

The others sat looking at each other, neither ready to speak first.
Finally Abby reflected that Jacques would not speak, at all unless she
began, so she said, with a sigh between the words; "I guess it'll be
all right, Jacques. It's only proper that she should have time to
think it over, and she such a child. Not but what it's a great chance
for her," she added hastily. "My! to get a good home, and a good
provider, as I make no doubt you would be, after the life she's led,
traipsin' here and there, and livin' with darkened heathens, or as bad.
But--but--you'll be kind to her, won't you, Jacques? She--she's not a
woman yet, in her feelin's, as you might say. She ain't nothin' but a
baby to our girls about here, that's brought up to see with their eyes
and talk with their mouths. You'll have patience with her, if her ways
are a good deal different from what you were used to; along back in
your mother's time?"

But here good Abby paused, for she saw that De Arthenay heard not a
word of her well-meant discourse. He sat brooding in the corner, as
was his wont, but with a light in his eyes and a color in his cheek
that Abby had never seen before.

"Jacques De Arthenay, you are fairly possessed!" she said, in rather an
awestruck voice, as he rose abr