“But who is to be married?” asked John.
“I am,” answered Mr Holland. “Have you aught against it?”
“You!” cried Avery, in a voice of astonishment, which Mr Holland understood to imply the reverse of flattery.
“Upon my word, you are no losenger!” (flatterer) saith he. “Have I two heads, or four legs, that you think no maid should have me? or is my temper so hot that you count I shall lead her a dog’s life? or what see you in me, body or soul, to make you cry out in that fashion?”
“Nay, man,” replied John, laughing, “thou art a proper man enough, and as tall of thy hands as any in Aldersgate; and for thy temper, a dove were crabbed in comparison. I did but think thou wert wedded to thy cloths and thy napery.”
“You thought I took counsel of velvet, and solaced myself with broidery!” laughed Mr Holland. “Nay, friend; when I take a wife, I will not wed a piece of Lincoln green.”
“And who, pray you, is the bride?”
“Why, Avery, I had thought you should have guessed that without asking. Who should it be, but mine old and true friend, Bessy Lake?”
“Then I give you joy,” said John, “for you have chosen well.”
Mr Holland’s wedding took place at the Church of Saint Giles Cripplegate, in August (it was in the first year of Queen Mary; exact date unknown). Bessy Lake, the bride, proved a very gentle, amiable-looking woman, not pretty, but not unpleasing, and by at least ten years the senior of her bridegroom. After the ceremony, the wedding party repaired to Mr Holland’s house. Mr Rose was present, with his wife and Thekla; and Mr Ferris; and Mr Ive and Helen, who brought Mrs Underhill’s three elder little girls, Anne, Christian, and Eleanor. Augustine Bernher did not appear until after dinner. Mrs Rose and Isoult had a little quiet conversation; the former was still looking forward to further troubles, and plainly thought Mr Holland was courting sorrow.