“Nay, sweetheart. I mock thee not. I am too old for sorry jests. Say you the word, and you are my partner for better for worse.”
She looked at him, and saw he was in earnest: on this she suddenly rained hard to the memory of “le pendard”: the tears came in a torrent, being the last; and she gave her hand to the landlord of “The White Hart,” and broke a gold crown with him in sign of plighted troth.
“We will keep it dark till the house is quiet,” said the landlord.
“Ay,” said she; “but meantime prithee give me linen to hem, or work to do; for the time hangs on me like lead.”
Her betrothed's eye brightened at this housewifely request, and he brought her up two dozen flagons of various sizes to clean and polish.
She gathered complacency as she reflected that by a strange turn of fortune all this bright pewter was to be hers.
Meantime the landlord went downstairs, and falling in with our friends drew them aside into the bar.
He then addressed Denys with considerable solemnity. “We are old acquaintances, and you want not for sagacity: now advise me in a strait. My custom is somewhat declining: this girl Manon is the talk of the town; see how full the inn is to-night. She doth refuse to be my chambermaid. I have half a mind to marry her. What think you? shall I say the word?”
Denys in reply merely open his eyes wide with amazement.
The landlord turned to Gerard with a half-inquiring look,