less unreasonable--but
still unexpected--befell me. To wit, I received through Mistress Pring
an offer of marriage, immediate and pressing, from Captain Anthony
Purvis! He must have been sadly confused by that blow on his heart to
think mine so tender, or that this was the way to deal with it, though
later explanations proved that Deborah, if she had been just, would have
taken the whole reproach upon herself. The captain could scarcely
have seen me, I believe more than half a dozen times to speak of; and
generally he had shut his eyes, gentle as they were and beautiful;
not only to make me feel less afraid, but to fill me with pity for his
weakness. Having no knowledge of mankind as yet, I was touched to the
brink of tears at first; until when the tray came out of his room
soon after one of these pitiful moments, it was plain to the youngest
comprehension that the sick man had left very little upon a shoulder of
Exmoor mutton, and nothing in a bowl of thick onion sauce.

For that I would be the last to blame him, and being his hostess, I
was glad to find it so. But Deborah played a most double-minded part;
leading him to believe that now she was father and mother in one to me;
while to me she went on, as if I was most headstrong, and certain to go
against anything she said, though for her part she never said anything.
Nevertheless he made a great mistake, as men always do, about our ways;
and having some sense of what is right, I said, "Let me hear no more of
Captain Purvis."

This forced him to leave us; which he might have done, for aught I could
see to the contrary, a full week before he departed. He behaved
very well when he said goodbye,--for I could not deny him that
occasion,--and, perhaps, if he had not assured me so much of his
everlasting gratitude, I should have felt surer of deserving it. Perhaps
I was a little disappointed also, that he expressed no anxiety at
leaving our cottage so much at the mercy of turbulent and triumphant
outlaws. But it was not for me to speak of that; and when I knew the
reason of his silence, it redounded tenfold to his credit. Nothing,
however, vexed me so much as what Deborah Pring said afterward: that he
could not help feeling in the sadness of his heart that I had behaved
in that manner to him just because his father was in possession of our
rightful home and property. I was not so small as that; and if he truly
did suppose it, there must have been some fault on my part, for