“The old fellow is tougher than I thought,” he said. “I expected the prospect of the money would have won his consent. Well, it makes me feel a kind of respect for him after all, rough as he is. But stop a bit, Master Cobbe, you’ll execute the King’s order and make money by it. You’ll give me sweet Mace’s hand, and sooner or later I’ll have thy savings to the last penny to clear off my little debts, and enable my beautiful rustic wife to keep up such style as shall make the sneering dames at court think twice before they slight one who has beauty, power, and position.”
As he spoke, he glanced at an open window, where Mace, trembling and excited, had been an unseen spectator of the meeting, standing far back in the room, and giving a sigh of relief as she saw her father stride angrily away.
How Gil interrupted a Discussion.
There must be something very fascinating in the herb called tobacco, or else the reverend gentlemen, who had commenced taking it with distaste, would never have grown to be steady smokers; and, in spite of Mistress Hilberry’s sour looks, met evening by evening to enjoy their pipes with the regularity of a clock.
But so it was, and it grew to be quite a custom for Master Peasegood to welcome Father Brisdone daily, and lay his pipe ready to his hand when he seated himself at the table.
“Yes,” said Master Peasegood, as they sat together; “our gay spark has come back, and he has had a long talk with Jeremiah Cobbe. He wants to have our little maiden’s hand.”
“But he must not,” cried Father Brisdone, excitedly. “Better that she should enter some holy walls as the bride of Christ.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Master Peasegood; “I don’t quite agree with you there, brother; but we will not argue. I am with you that he should not marry our little maiden. By the way, he let drop to friend Cobbe something about you.”
“How know you this?” said the father. “Why Cobbe told me, to be sure.”