er that Suneva was a widow, and
he a widower. But the thought once entertained was one he was not
disposed to banish. He sat still half an hour and recalled her bright
eyes, and good, cheerful face, and the pleasant confidential chat they
had had together. He felt comforted even in the memory of the warm
grip of her hand, and her sensible, honorable opinions. Why should he
not marry again? He was in the prime of life, and he was growing
richer every year. The more he thought of Suneva the warmer his heart
grew toward her.

He was not displeased when next day one of his old comrades told him
in a pawkie, meaning way, that he had "seen him walking with Glumm's
handsome widow." A man nearly sixty is just as ready to suppose
himself fascinating as a man of twenty. Peter had his courtiers, and
they soon found out that he liked to be twitted about Suneva; in a
little while a marriage between the handsome widow and the rich
merchant was regarded as a very probable event.

When once the thought of love and marriage has taken root in a man's
heart it grows rapidly. The sight of Suneva became daily more pleasant
to Peter. Every time she came to the store he liked her better. He
took care to let her see this, and he was satisfied to observe that
his attentions did not prevent her visits.

In a few weeks he had quite made up his mind; he was only watching for
a favorable opportunity to influence Suneva. In August, at the
Fisherman's Foy, it came. Peter was walking home one night, a little
later than usual, and he met Suneva upon the moor. His face showed his
satisfaction. "Long have I watched for this hour," he said; "now thou
must walk with me a little, for I have again some thing to say to
thee. Where hast thou been, Suneva?"

"Well, then, I took charge of Widow Thorkel's knitting to sell it for
her. She is bedridden, thou knows. I got a good price for her, and
have been to carry her the money."

"Thou art a kind woman. Now, then, be kind to me also. I want to have
thee for my wife."

"What will thy daughter say to that? She never liked me--nor have I
much liked her."

"It will be long ere I ask my daughter if I shall do this or that. It
is thee I ask. Wilt thou be my wife, Suneva?"

"It would not be a bad thing."

"It would be a very good thing for me, and for thee also. I should
have thy pleasant face, and thy good heart, and thy cheerful company
at my fireside. I will be to thee a loving husband. I will give thee