"I will, but first, Dame, let me beg thee, of our old friendship, of the love I bore thy husband and he to me, treat me not with such cruel formality. True it is that his honors have fallen upon me, and that his place knoweth him no more; and yet it is his spirit, his counsel, and his ensample that rules my poor actions at every turn. Be not jealous, be not resentful, mistress, though well I wot so loving and so faithful a heart as thine cannot well escape such weakness, for 't is part of woman's nature. But canst not be a little mindful of thine old friend's feelings too, and soften somewhat of this stately ceremony in speaking to him?"
"Yes, he loved thee, he loved thee well, and he would have chidden me"—
"Nay, nay, weep not, Dame Katharine. I did not mean to grieve thee but only to tell how I was grieved; but then, we men are still too clumsy to meddle with women's tender natures. Be what thou wilt, speak as thou wilt to me dear Dame, I am and ever shall be thy faithful friend and servant."
He went out as he spoke, and when a few moments later Howland and he returned together the lady had resumed her usual quietude of manner.
"Sit thee down, John. Mistress Carver and I have somewhat to ask of thee. Art thou minded to wed?"
"Not while my mistress needeth my service."
"Mayhap 't will further her comfort, John."
"Is it thy wish, Dame?" and the young man turned so eager a face toward her, and spoke so brightly, that a smile stirred the widow's pale lips as she replied,—
"'T is plain enough that 't is thy wish, John, and it will wonderfully content my conscience in the matter of bringing Desire Minter away from the home she had, poor though it then seemed."
"Desire Minter!" echoed Howland.