d done something unkind,
father would have said it was a Providence on me. But, of course, I
knew better than to speak up to my own father, with his hay lying
rotting and smoking in the ten-acre, and telling him he was a-being
judged.

Well, the harvest was got in. It was neither here nor there. I have
seen better years and I have seen worse. And October come. I was
getting to bed one night; at least, I hadn't begun to undress, for I
was sitting there with William's letters, as he had wrote me from
time to time while he was in Somerset, and I was reading them over
and thinking of William, silly fashion, as a young girl will, and
wishing it had been me was a Roman Catholic and him a Protestant,
because then I could have gone into a convent like the wicked people
in father's story-books. I was in that state of silliness, you see,
that I would have liked to do something for William, even if it was
only going into a convent--to be bricked up alive, perhaps. And then
I hears a scratch, scratch, scratching, and 'Drat the mice,' says I;
but I didn't take any notice, and then there was a little tap,
tapping, like a bird would make with its beak on the window-pane,
and I went and opened it, thinking it was a bird that had lost its
way and was coming foolish-like, as they will, to the light. So I
drew the curtain and opened the window, and it was--William!

'Oh, go away, do,' says I; 'father will hear you.'

He had climbed up by the pear-tree that grew right and left up the
wall, and--

'I ask your pardon,' says he, 'my pretty sweetheart, for making so
free as to come to your window this time of night, but there didn't
seem any other way.'

'Oh, go, dear William, do go,' says I. I expected every moment to
see the door open and father put his head in.

'I'm not going,' said William, 'till you tell me where you'll meet
me to say "Good-bye" and "God bless you," like you said in the
letter.'

Though I knew the whole parish better than I know the palm of my
hand, if you'll believe me, I couldn't for the life of me for the
moment think of any place where I could meet William, and I stood
like a fool, trembling. Oh, what a jump I gave when I heard a noise
like a heavy foot in the garden outside!

'Oh! it's father got round. Oh! he'll kill you, William. Oh!
whatever shall we do?'

'Nonsense!' said William, and he caught hold of my shoulder and gave
me a gentle little shake. 'It was only one of these pears as I
kicked off. T