The old man's heart warmed to the young fellow; he admired everything in him--his hot blood, his impetuosity, his obstinacy, his generous imperiousness.
"I am your friend," said Mr. Hart, "and I will continue to be so if you will let me. But when a man says of something that is mine, as Margaret is--ah, shake your head! it doesn't affect me!--when a man says of something that is mine, and that he wants to be his, that he'll have no conditions, he compels me to act in self-defence. Attend to me, young sir! Be reasonable, or to-morrow I take Margaret back to her mother, a hundred and forty miles away, and you shall not speak another word to her, as sure as my name's Hart."
"Ho! ho! you speak boldly; but it doesn't matter--you're a man in a thousand. In a thousand! in ten thousand. I'm glad you're not younger, or you might prove dangerous." Mr. Hart took off his cap, and bowed lowly at this compliment. "You'll not let me speak to her, will you not? I'll borrow a speaking-trumpet, and shout to her that you are parting us for ever. But there! give me your hand again. I'm not frightened of you. I am in such spirits that I must do something desperate. As you value your life, give me a back!"
With the readiness of a boy, Mr. Hart stooped and rested his hands on his knees. Philip took a run backward, then darted forward like a deer, and, lightly touching the stooping man's back, flew over him like a bird. Then stooped himself, and folded his arms; and old as Mr. Hart was, he took the leap.
After that they had a hearty laugh together.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Philip, "you are as young as I am, and yet I should say you are over sixty."
"I am," said Mr. Hart proudly, straightening his back.
"I don't mind giving way a little to such a man. Name your conditions."
"You want to marry Margaret?"
"I do--to-morrow!"