The next thing was, Luke Peterson came home, and heard that Gerard was a monk.
He was like to go mad with joy. He came to Margaret, and said—“heed, mistress. If he cannot marry you I can.”
“You?” said Margaret. “Why, I have seen him.”
“But he is a friar.”
“He was my husband, and my boy's father long ere he was a friar. And I have seen him, I've seen him.”
Luke was thoroughly puzzled. “I'll tell you what,” said he; “I have got a cousin a lawyer. I'll go and ask him whether you are married or single.”
“Nay, I shall ask my own heart, not a lawyer. So that is your regard for me; to go making me the town talk, oh, fie!”
“That is done already without a word from me.”
“But not by such as seek my respect. And if you do it, never come nigh me again.”
“Ay,” said Luke, with a sigh, “you are like a dove to all the rest; but you are a hardhearted tyrant to me.”