“It seems that I am predestined to plead the cause of my rival, the grapegulper,” he reflected, with a smile. “But I can do it this time with even more zeal than when I talked years ago with the Bishop, being myself an excellent example of the happy married man. Both for the sake of Mrs. Jefferies’ godson and of the pretty maid that rejected my suit, I will do my best to open the eyes of my friend the antiquary.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
We wait beneath the furnace-blast
The pangs of transformation,
Not painlessly doth God re-cast
And mould anew the nation.
Hot burns the fire
Where wrongs expire;