"When are you going to marry me, Michael?" Mary ran her hand through her lover's hair, just behind his right ear, where it was the softest.
"When I've saved money enough to buy you a ring, and to take care of you. I wont have us being poor." Michael took her hand from his hair and kissed it. He nibbled her fingers playfully, trying to change the subject.
"Stop it, I'm being serious Michael." Mary pulled her hand away, frustrated that he would try to avoid the topic. Again.
"I am too. I want to provide for you. And I can't in the middle of this God damned famine." Mary crossed herself at his use of God's name in vain. "Oh come on Mary. Don't do that. Where is God? How long have we prayed that the famine would leave? How long have we prayed that Trevelyan would stop taking our women for his whores?"
"He hasn't taken me?" Mary interrupted him. "Has he? What about how Trevelyan's kindness to start paying us for harvesting?" Michael stood quickly, pacing around.
"Yes, great. But what is stopping him from just...totally take over?" Michael straightened out his tunic and helped Mary up.
"Michael, I don't need riches to be happy. All I need is you." Mary looked down at her dress and saw a small ring that helped to hold on her apron. She ripped it off and stuck it onto her finger. "This will be my ring. It's all I need, and all I want."
"It's all you want? Mary, sigh, I want to take care of you. I don't want a wife who works in the fields."
"But it's going to happen. Michael. There's no way around it." Mary put her hand back into his hair, and hugged him. "I love you."
"I love you too. Let's go talk to your father." Michael lead Mary down to the village to talk to her father about the marriage.