Twice he fixed his cold eyes on Bessie's fair face, and twice looked down again.

The second time she took alarm.
"Excuse me one minute," she said, and made as though to enter the house.
"_Wacht een beeche_" (wait a bit), he ejaculated, breaking into Dutch in his agitation, and even catching hold of her white dress with his big hand.
Drawing the dress from him with a quick twist of her lithe form, she turned and faced him.
"I beg your pardon," she said, in a tone that could not be called encouraging: "you were going to say something." "Yes--ah, that is--I was going to say----" and he paused.
Bessie stood with a polite look of expectation on her face, and waited.
"I was going to say--that, in short, that I want to marry you!" "Oh!" exclaimed Bessie with a start.
"Listen," he went on hoarsely, his words gathering force as he spoke, as is the way even with uncultured people when they speak from the heart.
"Listen! I love you, Bessie; I have loved you for three years.

Every time I have seen you I have loved you more.

Don't say me nay--you don't know how I do love you.

I dream of you every night; sometimes I dream that I hear your dress rustling, then you come and kiss me, and it is like being in heaven." Here Bessie made a gesture of disgust.
"There, I have offended you, but don't be angry with me.