which the old men, with the prescience of experience, saw they were
drifting to; no need to hurry them, for they were both young, and
Michael, though active enough, was too thoughtless, old Daniel said,
to be trusted with the entire management of a farm. Meanwhile, his
father would look about him, and see after all the farms that were to
be let.

Michael had a shrewd notion of this preliminary understanding between
the fathers, and so felt less daunted than he might otherwise have
done at making the application for Susan's hand. It was all right,
there was not an obstacle; only a deal of good advice, which the
lover thought might have as well been spared, and which it must be
confessed he did not much attend to, although he assented to every
part of it. Then Susan was called down stairs, and slowly came
dropping into view down the steps which led from the two family
apartments into the house-place. She tried to look composed and
quiet, but it could not be done. She stood side by side with her
lover, with her head drooping, her cheeks burning, not daring to look
up or move, while her father made the newly-betrothed a somewhat
formal address in which he gave his consent, and many a piece of
worldly wisdom beside. Susan listened as well as she could for the
beating of her heart; but when her father solemnly and sadly referred
to his own lost wife, she could keep from sobbing no longer; but
throwing her apron over her face, she sat down on the bench by the
dresser, and fairly gave way to pent-up tears. Oh, how strangely
sweet to be comforted as she was comforted, by tender caress, and
many a low-whispered promise of love! Her father sat by the fire,
thinking of the days that were gone; Willie was still out of doors;
but Susan and Michael felt no one's presence or absence--they only
knew they were together as betrothed husband and wife.