"I know Dan to the very soul of him," said Sarah Jane. "I've read him day by day like a book of large, easy print; and he knows me—better than I know myself—don't you, Daniel?"
Brendon grinned doubtfully.
"I know you're the best, beautifullest wonder of a woman as ever I met with; and I know that I ban't worthy to tie your shoe-string; and that's about all I do know," he said.
"Exactly so!" declared Gregory. Then he took his daughter's face between his hands and kissed her.
"Bless you, you bowerly maid. You know nought about her, man; and I—her own parent—don't know much more; and she herself—what do she know, but that she's born—and loves you? There's as much we don't know, and she don't know, behind them blue eyes of hers, as there is behind the blue sky. Mark that; an' the Lord bless you, I'm sure; and if all goes well, I shall be pleased to have you for a son-in-law."
"I hope you'll never get no cause to regret them words, Mr. Friend. And, God helping, I'll Be a useful son to you as the years go on."
"That's a very proper thing to say. And if I have any opinion in the matter, 'tis this, that you won't take her too far off from me. She must bide fairly close. She's all I've got, and I couldn't go on without seeing her from time to time."
"That I will promise."
They fell into long silences while Gregory's daughter made tea; then they ate and drank and talked more freely again.
The lovers began to plan daily meetings; and Sarah Jane allowed herself to think deliciously of all the friends to whom this great news must be broken. Daniel remarked that they were mostly of his sex, and remembered that she had told him how her friendships with women were few.