Mary Erskine | Page 7

did in fact take one or two steps in that direction, but thinking almost immediately that it would be foolish to do so, she returned to the same side of the road and walked on. Albert walked slowly along towards Mary Erskine, until at length they met.
"Good evening, Mary Erskine," said Albert.
"Good evening, Albert," said Mary Erskine.
Albert turned and began to walk along slowly, by Mary Erskine's side.
"I have been waiting here for you more than two hours," said Albert.
"Have you?" said Mary Erskine. Her heart began to beat, and she was afraid to say any thing more, for fear that her voice would tremble,
"Yes," said Albert. "I saw you go to the village, and I wanted to speak to you when you came back."
Mary Erskine walked along, but did not speak.
"And I have been waiting and watching two months for you to go to the village," continued Albert.
"I have not been much to the village, lately," said Mary.
Here there was a pause of a few minutes, when Albert said again,
"Have you any objection to my walking along with you here a little way, Mary?"
"No," said Mary, "not at all."
"Mary," said Albert, after another short pause, "I have got a hundred dollars and my axe,--and this right arm. I am thinking of buying a lot of land, about a mile beyond Kater's corner. If I will do it, and build a small house of one room there, will you come and be my wife? It will have to be a log house at first."
Mary Erskine related subsequently to Mary Bell what took place at this interview, thus far, but she would never tell the rest.
It was evident, however, that Mary Erskine was inclined to accept this proposal, from a conversation which took place between her and Mrs. Bell the next evening. It was after tea. The sun had gone down, and the evening was beautiful. Mrs. Bell was sitting in a low rocking-chair, on a little covered platform, near the door, which they called the stoop. There were two seats, one on each side of the stoop, and there was a vine climbing over it. Mrs. Bell was knitting. Mary Bell, who was then about six years old, was playing about the yard, watching the butterflies, and gathering flowers.
"You may stay here and play a little while," said Mary Erskine to Mary Bell. "I am going to talk with your mother a little; but I shall be back again pretty soon."
Mary Erskine accordingly went to the stoop where Mrs. Bell was sitting, and took a seat upon the bench at the side of Mrs. Bell, though rather behind than before her. There was a railing along behind the seat, at the edge of the stoop and a large white rose-bush, covered with roses, upon the other side.
Mrs. Bell perceived from Mary Erskine's air and manner that she had something to say to her, so after remarking that it was a very pleasant evening, she went on knitting, waiting for Mary Erskine to begin.
"Mrs. Bell," said Mary.
"Well," said Mrs. Bell.
The trouble was that Mary Erskine did not know exactly how to begin.
She paused a moment longer and then making a great effort she said,
"Albert wants me to go and live with him."
"Does he?" said Mrs. Bell. "And where does he want you to go and live?"
"He is thinking of buying a farm," said Mary Erskine.
"Where?" said Mrs. Bell.
"I believe the land is about a mile from Kater's corner."
Mrs. Bell was silent for a few minutes. She was pondering the thought now for the first time fairly before her mind, that the little helpless orphan child that she had taken under her care so many years ago, had really grown to be a woman, and must soon, if not then, begin to form her own independent plans of life. She looked at little Mary Bell too, playing upon the grass, and wondered what she would do when Mary Erskine was gone.
After a short pause spent in reflections like these, Mrs. Bell resumed the conversation by saying,
"Well, Mary,--and what do you think of the plan?"
"Why--I don't know," said Mary Erskine, timidly and doubtfully.
"You are very young," said Mrs. Bell.
"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I always was very young. I was very young when my father died; and afterwards, when my mother died, I was very young to be left all alone, and to go out to work and earn my living. And now I am very young, I know. But then I am eighteen."
"Are you eighteen?" asked Mrs. Bell.
"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I was eighteen the day before yesterday."
"It is a lonesome place,--out beyond Kater's Corner," said Mrs. Bell, after another pause.
"Yes," said Mary Erskine, "but I am not afraid of lonesomeness. I never cared about seeing a great many people."
"And you will have