"Parson," said Kenelm, as they walked on, "I must go to that confounded harvest-supper. I begin to think there is something true in the venerable platitude about love in a cottage. And Will Somers must be married in haste, in order to repent at leisure."
"I don't see why a man should repent having married a good girl whom he loves."
"You don't? Answer me candidly. Did you ever meet a man who repented having married?"
"Of course I have; very often."
"Well, think again, and answer as candidly. Did you ever meet a man who repented not having married?"
The Parson mused, and was silent.
"Sir," said Kenelm, "your reticence proves your honesty, and I respect it." So saying, he bounded off, and left the Parson crying out wildly, "But—but—"
CHAPTER XXI.
MR. SAUNDERSON and Kenelm sat in the arbour: the former sipping his grog and smoking his pipe; the latter looking forth into the summer night skies with an earnest yet abstracted gaze, as if he were trying to count the stars in the Milky Way.
"Ha!" said Mr. Saunderson, who was concluding an argument; "you see it now, don't you?"