"No, sir; but--but--" she lowered her eyes; a coquette could not have
done it more artlessly--"but I--know it."
The accusation of loving her set all his suppressed repugnances and
prejudices bristling in contradiction. He cursed the weakness that had
got him into this soul-racking situation. The silence clamoured for
him to speak--to do something.
"What--what were you crying about before?" he said abruptly.
"I--I don't know, sir," she faltered.
"Was it Tom's death?"
"No, sir, not much. I did think of him black-berrying with me and our
little Sally--but then he was so wicked! It must have been what missus
said; and I was frightened because the vicar was coming to take me
away--away from you; and then--oh, I don't know--I felt--I couldn't tell
you--I felt I must cry and cry, like that night when--" she paused
suddenly and looked away.
"When," he said encouragingly.
"I must go--Rosie," she murmured, and took up the tea-tray.
"That night when--" he repeated tenaciously.
"When you first kissed me," she said.