I am quicker at reading writing than Mattie, and I had finished the
letter and was picking up the raspberries before she come to the
end, where his name was signed with all the little crosses round it.
'Well?' says I, as she folded it up and unbuttoned two buttons of
her dress to push it inside. 'Well,' says I, 'what's the best news?'
'He's come home again,' she says. And I give you my word she did
look like a rose as she said it. 'He's come home again, Jane, and
it's all right, and he likes me just as much as ever he did, God
bless him.'
Not a word, you see, about his having made his fortune, which I
might never have known if I hadn't read the letter which I did,
acting for the best. Not that I think it was deceitfulness in the
girl, but a sort of fondness that always kept her from noticing
really important things.
'And does he ask you to have him?' says I.
'Of course he does,' she says; 'I never thought any different. I
never thought but what he would come back for me, just as he said he
would--just as he has.'
By that I knew well enough that she had often had her doubts.
'Oh, well!' says I, 'all's well that ends well.