"I am going--to speak--to my brother, Mr. Meadows!" said he, syllable
by syllable to Meadows in a way brimful of meaning.

"To me, George?" said William, a little uneasy.

"To you!--Fall back a bit." (Some rustics were encroaching upon the
circle.)

"Fall back, if you please; this is a family matter."

Isaac Levi, instead of going quite away, seated himself on a bench
outside the palings.

It was now William's turn to flutter; he said, however, to himself,
"It is about the farm; it must be about the farm."

George resumed. "I've often had it on my mind to speak to you, but I
was ashamed, now that's the truth; but now I am going away from her I
must speak out, and I will--William!"

"Yes, George?"

"You've taken--a fancy--to my Susan, William!"

At these words, which, though they had cost him so much to say, George
spoke gravely and calmly like common words, William gave one startled
look all round, then buried his face directly in his hands in a
paroxysm of shame.