d speak to her. He would speak calmly, and not
frighten her, as he had done on that former occasion; and he braced
himself to meet her.

Impatiently he waited, and then, as he saw her about to enter the grove,
he rose as unconcernedly as he could, trying hard to assume the air of
one who had met her by accident, and stepped on to the path when Mysie
was within ten yards or so of him.

The color left her face, and her limbs felt weak beneath her, as she
recognized him, and he was quick to note the change in her whole
appearance.

She was paler, he thought, and thinner, and the bloom of a few weeks ago
was gone. Her eyes were listless, and the soft, shy look had been
replaced by an averted shame-stricken one. She was plainly flurried by
the meeting, and looking about trying to find if there were not, even
yet, a way of evading it.

"It's a fine nicht, Mysie," he began, stammering and halting before her,
"though I think it is gaun to work to rain."

"Ay," she responded hurriedly, her agitation growing, as she was forced
to halt before him.

"I've come oot on the muir a wheen o' nichts noo, to try an' meet you,"
he began, getting into the business right away, "an' I had begun to
think you had stopped comin' owre."

But Mysie answered never a word. Her face grew paler, and her agitation
became more evident.

"Mysie," he began, now fully braced for the important matter in view, "I
want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife. You've kenned me a' my
life. We gaed to the school together, and we gaed to work together, an'
I hae aye looked on you as my lass. I canna keep it ony langer noo. I
hae wanted to tell you a lang time aboot it, an' to ask you to be my
wife. My place at hame is easier noo. My mother has the rest o' the
family comin' on to take my place, and her battle is gey weel owre, an'
I can see prospects o' settin' up a hoose o' my ain, if you'll agree to
share it with me. I haven't muckle to offer you, but I think you'll ken
by this time that I'll be guid to you. Mysie, I want you. Will you
come?"

For answer, Mysie burst into tears, her shoulders heaving with the sobs
of her grief, her breast surging and falling, while her little hands
covered her eyes, as she stood with bent head, a pitiable little figure.

"What is it, Mysie?" he enquired, his hands at once going tenderly over
her bent head, and caressing it as he spoke, "What is it, Mysie? Tell
me. Hae I vexed you by speakin' like that? Dinna greet