And what the
mischief will you say to the wretch if you do find him?"
"Be very, very angry," answered Jenny--in a voice like a sucking dove.
"I'm sorry for Bill Westaway," I said, "He'd have made a much finer
husband for you."
But she shook her head impatiently.
"I hate him!" she vowed. "I couldn't say for why, exactly; but there's
something about him--"
"All's fair in love," I told her.
"I only love Nicky and I shall go to Meldon Quarry and not leave it again
till he be found," she promised. "And don't tell Mr. Westaway, please.
He'd be properly furious if he thought my dear husband wasn't drownded
after all."
And at that moment if the miller's son didn't come along himself. A very
tidy-looking chap, and a good worker, and a likely sort of man by all
accounts. They left me and walked up the street together; and I heard
afterwards what they talked about.
"How much longer are you going to hold off?" he asked. "You know I won't
let you marry anybody on God's earth but me."
Jenny hid the great hopes in her mind, for she doubted if she could trust
Will with the news.
"How can I marry anybody until I know Nicky is dead?" she inquired of the
man, as she often had before.
"If he's alive, then that makes him a low-down villain, and you ought
never to think of the creature again. If he's alive, he's happy without
you. Happy without you--think of that! But of course he's not alive.
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