Robin’s forbearance was plainly worn out. He rose and walked toward the door.
“Nay, lad, come!” called the old man. “I meant not in deed to grieve thee. Come back, Robin, and I will cease flouting thee, if it trouble thee. Come back, thou silly child!”
Robin turned back, after a moment’s thought, and sat down on the settle he had left.
“I take your word for it, Dr Thorpe,” he said, soberly. “But think you it not too grave a matter for jesting?”
“Grave!” cried Dr Thorpe. “What, wouldst thou have it spoken of like an execution?”
“I cry you mercy, Doctor,” said Isoult, now joining in; “but in this matter I do take part with Robin. It alway seemeth me that men (ay, and women too), do speak with too much jesting and lightness touching this matter, which should be right serious. A man’s choice of a wife is a choice for life, and is hardly to be talked of, meseemeth, in the same fashion with his choice of a partlet (neck ruff). I pray you, pardon me if in so speaking, I fail aught in the reverence due unto your years.”
“Why, dear child,” saith he, “thou wist more of the matter than I, which was never married; so talk away, and I will hold my peace, and trouble my master the bridegroom no further. Say on, Mr Robert Tremayne.”
“Methinks enough is said,” answered Robin, staidly. “I await my mother’s answer.”
“Which may scarce be given in a moment, Robin,” said Isoult, “nor without talk with mine husband thereupon. Moreover, Mr Rose shall have a word to say touching the matter.”
John was hardly allowed to speak on his return from the law courts, before he had heard Isoult’s story. He received the news at first as something irresistibly comic, but the next minute he grew grave, and evidently began to consider the matter seriously.