Life

By: 1000th Ghost

They were to die.

That was a truth for all, but for them, it was a truth that would dash their lives much too soon. It was not of weight right now though, as they spread the cloth on the grass.

Or, in fact, he spread the cloth on the grass, and she pulled at the edge in a way that at the same time said "I want to help" and "I do not know what to do in this place."

It was fine that she was scared. It was a fine way for her to act. She was with him, a man who was in a lot of ways new to her life. She was small and young and seemed to want to pay more mind to the ant which crawled by her shoe than to what he did. She had not known much of life. The chief of these things she had not known was men. Was him, was how to act, what to say, how to look, what to do when by him.

He took her hand. She smiled as if in a trance, her mind still not with him right there right then. He was on the ground, on his knees, and it could be that she would be shocked like a wee bird if he pulled her down to him. So he rose up to her, his back in slight pain from the move. She did not mind, at least he did not think she did. She did not say that he was old and she was young. She might have not even saw it. He looked like a boy, he looked her age, and he did not look a day over the apt age for her hand in his.

"Sir?"

She still said no to his first name. Some of the time she would call him by his strict name, the name that the maids of the house called him. She was the lone one who was of his same creed, but in a world full of those who called him "sir", she did not feel right with the word "George."

"George, you mean."

"George, I mean."

She paused, and in the pause he read her yield.

"Yes. I want to call you 'George'."

Then she threw her arms round his neck and, if she heard his gasp at all, seemed to like or at least pay no mind to it.

"You are right. I will be your wife, and it would make no sense to call you 'sir'. I did not hear Ma ever say that before she was dead."

Poor girl. Poor rich girl. The small points of wealth were a strange thought to her though they had been a part of her for her whole life. And if the wealth of her loss would be of great help to him, and if his love would be of great help to her, and if he by now knew that he was in love with her too, what did he care if his first plan had been based on her funds?

"I love you."

He had said the words to her time and time once more, and each time she seemed to want to swoon. That was all that she craved in her life - his love.

It was a shame that the lives would last but a few more months.