"A moment," said Darrel, raising his hand. "Prithee, boy, ring down the curtain for a brief parley. Thou say'st they were Syrians—they that stole the lad. Now, tell me, hast thou reason for that?"
"Ample," said Trove. "When they took him out of the sleigh the first words he spoke were "Anah jouhan." He used them many times, and while he forgot they remembered them. Now "Anah jouhan" is a phrase of the Syrian tongue, meaning 'I am hungry.'"
"Very well!" said the old man, with emphasis, "and sailors—that is a just inference. It was a big port, and far people came on the four winds. Very well! Now, for the young lady. An' away with thy book unless I love her."
"She is from life—a simple-hearted girl, frank and beautiful and—" Trove hesitated, looking into the dying fire.
"Noble, boy, make sure o' that, an' nobler, too, than girls are apt to be. If Emulation would measure height with her, see that it stand upon tiptoes."
"So I have planned. The young man loves her. She is in every thought and purpose. She has become as the rock on which his hope is founded. Now he loves honour, too, and all things of good report. He has been reared a Puritan. By chance, one day, it comes to him that his father was a thief."
The boy paused. For a moment they heard only the voices of the night.
"He dreaded to tell her," Trove continued; "yet he could not ask her to be his wife without telling. Then the question, Had he a right to tell?—for his father had not suffered the penalty of the law and, mind you, men thought him honest."
"'Tis just," said Darrel; "but tell me, how came he to know his father was a thief?"
"That I am thinking of, and before I answer, is there more you can tell me of him or his people?"