'Of course he does.'

'He has told me to go;--and I'll go. I've worked for him as no
other man would work, and have never said a word about a share in
the business;--and never would.'

'Is it not all for yourself, George?'

'And why shouldn't you and I be married if we like it?'

'I will never like it,' said she solemnly, 'if uncle dislikes it.'

'Very well,' said George. 'There is the horse ready, and now I'm
off.'

So he went, starting just as the day was dawning, and no one saw him
on that morning except Marie Bromar. As soon as he was gone she
went up to her little room, and sat herself down on her bedside.
She knew that she loved him, and had been told that she was beloved.
She knew that she could not lose him without suffering terribly; but
now she almost feared that it would be necessary that she should
lose him. His manner had not been tender to her. He had indeed
said that he loved her, but there had been nothing of the tenderness
of love in his mode of saying so;--and then he had said no word of
persistency in the teeth of his father's objection. She had
declared--thoroughly purposing that her declaration should be true--
that she would never become his wife in opposition to her uncle's
wishes; but he, had he been in earnest, might have said something of
his readiness to attempt at least to overcome his father's