Who'll do it? I'll
do it--I alone. I don't want your help. I want to do it in spite of
'ee: an' I'll lay that I do! Be your wickedness deep as hell, an' I'll
reach down a hand to the roots and pluck it up: be your salvation
stubborn as Death, I'll wrestle wi' the Lord for it. If I sell my own
soul for't, yours shall be redeemed!"
He slammed down his fist on the rickety deal table, which promptly
collapsed flat on the floor, with its four legs splayed under the
circular cover.
"Bein' a carpenter--" Geake began to stammer apologetically, and in a
totally different tone.
For a second--two seconds--the issue hung between tears and laughter.
An hysterical merriment twinkled in Naomi's eyes.
But the strength of Geake's passion saved the situation. He stepped up
to Naomi, laid a hand on each shoulder, and shook her gently to and
fro.
"Listen to me! As I hold 'ee now, so I take your fate in my hands.
Naomi Bricknell, you've got to be my wife, so make up your mind to
that."
She cowered a little under his grasp; put out a hand to push him off;
drew it back; and broke into helpless sobbing.
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