'Ye must not do it, Mr. Garstin ... I must just bear my own trouble the
best I can--' she broke out.

'D'ye fancy I'm takin' ye oot of charity? Ye little reckon the sort o'
stuff my love for ye's made of. Nay, Miss Rosa, but ye canna draw back
noo.'

'But ye cannot do it, Mr. Garstin. Ye know your mother will na have me at
Hootsey.... I could na live there with your mother.... I'd sooner bear
my trouble alone, as best I can.... She's that stern is Mrs. Garstin. I
couldn't look her in the face.... I can go away somewhere.... I could
keep it all from uncle.'

Her colour came and went: she stood before him, looking away from him,
dully, out of the window.

'I intend ye t' coom t' Hootsey. I'm na lad: I reckon I can choose my
own wife. Mother'll hev ye at t' farm, right enough: ye need na distress
yeself on that point--'

'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but indeed she will not, never... I know she will
not... She always set herself against me, right from the first.'

'Ay, but that was different. T' case is all changed noo,' he objected
doggedly.

'She'll support the sight of me all the less,' the girl faltered.

'Mother'll hev ye at Hootsey--receive ye willin' of her own free
wish--of her own free wish, d'ye hear? I'll answer for that.'