The bee-hunter had got as far as the edge of the marsh on his way
toward the hut, when, pausing an instant to examine the priming of
his rifle, he fancied that he heard a light footstep behind him.
Turning, quick as thought, he perceived that pretty Margery had
followed him thus far. Although time pressed, he could not part from
the girl without showing that he appreciated the interest she
manifested in his behalf. Taking her hand, therefore, he spoke with
a simplicity and truth, that imparted to his manner a natural grace
that one bred in courts might have envied. What was more, with a
delicacy that few in course would deem necessary under the
circumstances, he did not in his language so much impute to concern
on his own account this movement of Margery's, as to that she felt
for her brother and sister; though in his inmost heart a throbbing
hope prevailed that he had his share in it.
"Do not be troubled on account of Gershom and his wife, pretty
Margery," said the bee-hunter, "which, as I perceive, is the main
reason why you have come here; and as for myself, be certain that I
shall not forget who I have left behind, and how much her safety
depends on my prudence.
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