No
confession was necessary to inform her that Patience Woolsworthy was in
love with John Broughton--ay, in love, to the full and entire loss of
her whole heart.
On one evening she was so sitting till the July sun had fallen and
hidden himself for the night, when her father came upon her as he
returned from one of his rambles on the moor. 'Patty,' he said, 'you
are always sitting there now. Is it not late? Will you not be cold?'
'No papa,' she said, 'I shall not be cold.'
'But won't you come to the house? I miss you when you come in so late
that there's no time to say a word before we go to bed.'
She got up and followed him into the parsonage, and when they were in
the sitting-room together, and the door was closed, she came up to him
and kissed him. 'Papa,' she said, 'would it make you very unhappy if I
were to leave you?'
'Leave me!' he said, startled by the serious and almost solemn tone of
her voice. 'Do you mean for always?'
'If I were to marry, papa?'
'Oh, marry! No; that would not make me unhappy. It would make me very
happy, Patty, to see you married to a man you would love;--very, very
happy; though my days would be desolate without you.
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