Part 33 (2/2)
To his amazement the girl drew herself up, looked him straight in the face and said--
”There's no such place.”
”_What?_”
”There's no such place. There's n.o.body ill at all. I told you a lie.”
”You told me a lie--then why in the name of common sense am I here?”
”Because, young man--because, sir, I'm sick o' love for you, an' I want'ee to marry me.”
”Great heaven!” the young minister muttered, recoiling. ”Is the girl mad?”
”Ah, but look at me, sir!” She seemed to grow still taller as she stood there, resting one hand on the tiller and gazing at him with perfectly serious eyes. ”Look at me well before you take up with some other o'
the girls. To-morrow they'll be all after 'ee, an' this'll be my only chance; for my father's no better'n a plain fisherman, an' they're all above me in money an' rank. I be but a Ruan girl, an' my family is naught. But look at me well; there's none stronger nor comelier, nor that'll love thee so dear!”
The young man gasped. ”Set me ash.o.r.e at once!” he commanded, stamping his foot.
”Nay, that I will not till thou promise, an' that's flat. Dear lad, listen--an' consent, consent--an' I swear to thee thou'll never be sorry for't.”
”I never heard such awful impropriety in my life. Turn back; I order you to steer back to the harbour at once!”
She shook her head. ”No, lad; I won't. An' what's more, you don't know how to handle a boat, an' couldn't get back by yoursel', not in a month.”
”This is stark madness. You--you abandoned woman, how long do you mean to keep me here?”
”Till thou give in to me. We'm goin' straight t'wards Plymouth now, an'
if th' wind holds--as 'twill--we'll be off the Rame in two hours.
If you haven't said me yes by that maybe we'll go on; or perhaps we'll run across to the coast o' France--”
”Girl, do you know that if I'm not back by day-break, I'm ruined!”
”And oh, man, man! Can't 'ee see that I'm ruined, too, if I turn back without your word? How shall I show my face in Troy streets again, tell me?”
At this sudden transference of responsibility the minister was staggered.
”You should have thought of that before,” he said, employing the one obvious answer.
”O' course I thought of it. But for love o' you I made up my mind to risk it. An' now there's no goin' back.” She paused a moment and then added, as a thought struck her, ”Why, lad, doesn' that prove I love 'ee uncommon?”
”I prefer not to consider the question. Once more--will you go back?”
”I can't.”
He bit his lips and moved forward to the cuddy, on the roof of which he seated himself sulkily. The girl tossed him an end of rope.
”Dear, better coil that up an' sit 'pon it. The frost'll strike a chill into thee.”
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