Australian Tales - Setis

so than I had been six or seven years before. I often longed to give her a
few plums or a stick of barley-sugar, but I was afraid she had grown far
above such things, and would feel offended if I offered them. She always
looked so modest and reserved, that whenever she came into the shop I
was struck serious, and as overawed as if she were the parson's wife or a
young saint. Had I any idea that the sly little rogue was, at the same time,
over head and ears in love with me, it is very likely I should have
summoned courage to have said a soft word or two; but she never gave
me the slightest clue to her real feelings, for which becoming maidenly
modesty I afterwards admired her the more of course. I remember one
day after she had gone out of the shop, Tom Bullskin, my fellow
apprentice, made some coarse remarks about her, when I immediately
fired up and gave him a smart knock on the nose, which made his eyes
water. ‘Now you had better take that from me,’ said I, ‘than let me tell
her father what you have just said.’ ‘Oho! that's it, is it?’ said he, trying
to look facetious, ‘I didn't know she was your sweetheart.’ From that
time it was the talk of the gossips in the village that Nanny and I were
lovers; still I never even whispered a word of love to her for years
afterwards. At length my passion got to such a pressure that I felt I must
ease my heart, or it would burst like an over-fired steam boiler. Nanny
was then a lively lass of fifteen or sixteen. She was handsome as a satinbird,
— but I need not attempt to describe her charms; just look at her
now, Mr. Boomerang, and I leave you to judge what she was then,” said
the old man, gazing at his wife, and passing his hand gently over her
silvery locks. “You may imagine how she looked as Queen of the May
fifty years ago, sir. You can fancy, too, how anxious I felt lest some one
of the smart lads of the village should pluck my pretty May flower (as
they were all looking after her as much as they dared, for her father and
her big brother scared them from making any bold advances), and, as I
said before, I had not the least idea that the little puss was sighing her
heart sore for me, and perhaps fearing that some of the other village
lasses would win my heart.
“How to declare my love to her puzzled me wonderfully. I knew no
one whom I could ask for advice except my mother; and I was half
ashamed to speak to her on the subject, for I had often told her that I
should never love any one in the world so much as I loved her. However,
I thought I might get information from her, enough for my purpose,
without exactly letting her know that she had,’ been supplanted in my
affections; — so one evening, as she was sitting at her spinning-wheel (I
always went home at night) after a good deal of thought how I should put
the question, I said boldly, ‘Mother, what did poor father say to you
when he first came courting?’ My stars, sir! you should have seen how
the dear old lady stared at my unexpected question. ‘Why what on earth
do you mean by asking me that, Davy?’ she exclaimed, stopping her