It was summer morning in his heart, and he saw
Hetty in the sunshine--a sunshine without glare, with slanting rays
that tremble between the delicate shadows of the leaves. He thought,
yesterday when he put out his hand to her as they came out of church,
that there was a touch of melancholy kindness in her face, such as he
had not seen before, and he took it as a sign that she had some sympathy
with his family trouble. Poor fellow! That touch of melancholy came from
quite another source, but how was he to know? We look at the one little
woman's face we love as we look at the face of our mother earth, and see
all sorts of answers to our own yearnings. It was impossible for Adam
not to feel that what had happened in the last week had brought the
prospect of marriage nearer to him. Hitherto he had felt keenly the
danger that some other man might step in and get possession of Hetty's
heart and hand, while he himself was still in a position that made him
shrink from asking her to accept him. Even if he had had a strong hope
that she was fond of him--and his hope was far from being strong--he
had been too heavily burdened with other claims to provide a home for
himself and Hetty--a home such as he could expect her to be content with
after the comfort and plenty of the Farm.
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