Connie went back to Giles, sat down by him, and he resumed his reading. He was going through the Pilgrim's Progress to her, reading short sentences at a time, for his voice was too low and weak to enable him to exert himself for long at a time.  
"Connie, wot were that as I read last?"
 
Connie colored.
 
"You weren't listening," said Giles reproachfully. "It wor a most beautiful bit. But you didn't hear me, Connie."
 
"I wor thinking o' something else jest then," owned Connie. "I'll listen now wid hall my might, dear Giles."
 
"Ah! but I'm tired now," said Giles; "and besides, I want to talk 'bout something else, Connie."
 
"Well."
 
"Sue have been a whole month in the country to-day—rayther more than a month. I don't understand it at all. I never thought as she could stay so long away from me. I suppose 'tis hall right, and cottages such as we want do take a powerful long time to find. It has been a long time—wery, wery long—but have I been patient 'bout Sue all this long time, Connie?"
 
"Yes, indeed, dear Giles."
 
"Oh! I'm glad, fur I've tried to be. Then, Connie, wot I'm thinking is that ef Sue don't soon come back—ef she don't soon find that 'ere cottage—why, I won't want it, Connie. Sue 'ull come back and find me—gone."
 
"Gone!" echoed Connie. "Do you mean dead? Oh Giles! you're not ill enough to die."
 
"Yes, Connie, I think I am. I'm so real desperate weak sometimes that I don't like even to move a finger. I used to be hungry, too, but now I never cares to eat. ............