“Yes; you say so, sir.”
“Be not so hard, then. Give me access to her.”
“Access to her, man? You speak as if I locked her in her room. My child is free enough, and she will tell thee readily that she is no mate for Sir Mark Leslie.”
“Nay, nay, Master Cobbe!”
“Nay, nay, Sir Mark. There, sir, you are welcome to what my house affords while it pleases thee to stay, for I will not quarrel with thee; but let us have no more converse about such matters as these.”
“And the order, Master Cobbe, one that would bring thee thousands?”
“Take it elsewhere, sir; take it elsewhere. You are a very good, generous kind of devil, no doubt, but thy temptations will not succeed at so great a price.”
“Bah!” ejaculated Sir Mark. “Devil, forsooth! One would think, man, I asked for thy soul.”
“And what else dost ask for?” cried the founder, angrily, “but for the pure, sweet girl who is to me my very life and soul. There, I’ll speak no more on it. I get angered, and I’ve had repentance enough for quarrelling with you once before, good guest. There, sir, as I said before, the house is open to you and to your men. Take its hospitality; as to that order, make of it what you can.”
Evidently growing hot and angry, the founder turned away to go and cool himself—so it seemed—in his hottest furnace, while Sir Mark stood watching him till he disappeared, with a smile upon his lips.