And she folded her two hands upon his shoulder, and bowed her head thereon, with a burst of tears.
CHAPTER VII.
A FAMILY CONCLAVE.
Mistress Bonyton sat with her daughters, busy with knitting-work and sewing, when Dame Higgins entered, with work in hand, to pass an hour in neighborly chat. Hardly were they seated, when in the distance were seen John Bonyton and Hope Vines casting their hooks into the sea, fishing; for from the point of rocks on which they stood, many a fine bass had been brought ashore.
Dame Higgins eyed Mistress Bonyton sharply; she was making a net, and as she drew the mesh home, the strong twine snapped with a keen, biting sound, which seemed not unpleasant to the notable dame. Every time she knotted the mesh, she lifted her eyes and scrutinized the face of the hostess, as she drew the twine home.
“I think our brother John is certainly bewitched,” said Perseverance Bonyton, to her sister, at the same time biting off the thread of the seam she had just completed.
Nancy, who had been addressed, was darning a pair of stockings, with a small yellow gourd inside to hold the parts in shape. She threaded the darning-needle, arranged the gourd, and commenced working before she spoke, and then her laconic answer was no more than:
“I shouldn’t wonder!”
“My conscience, Nance, is that all you’ve got to say, after waiting so long to get it out?”
Nancy compressed her lips like one determined not to be provoked into speech, holding the stocking close to her breast, and passing the needle over and under the threads, weaving in a perfect piece of cloth. At last the rent was closed, and she held it up in triumph, saying: