I won't sing my own praises, but I don't
think you'd find much to complain of in me. I'd never ask you to go
into the bar, 'cause I know you ain't suited for that, and, what's
more, I'd rather you didn't. Will you give it a thought?'
It was modest enough, and from her knowledge of the man Emma felt
that he was to be trusted for more than his word. But he asked an
impossible thing. She could not imagine herself consenting to marry
any man, but the reasons why she could not marry Daniel Dabbs were
manifold. She felt them all, but it was only needful to think of
one.
Yet it was a temptation, and the hour of it might have been chosen.
With a scarcity of food for the morrow, with dark fears for her
sister, suffering incessantly on the children's account, Emma might
have been pardoned if she had taken the helping hand. But the
temptation, though it unsteadied her brain for a moment, could never
have overcome her. She would have deemed it far less a crime to go
out and steal a loaf from the baker's shop than to marry Daniel
because he offered rescue from destitution.
She refused him, as gently as she could, but with firmness which
left him no room for misunderstanding her. Daniel was awed by her
quiet sincerity.
'But I can wait,' he stammered; 'if you'd take time to think it
over?'
Useless; the answer could at no time be other.
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