"Thank you, John," said innocent Constance, having no idea of the weighty meaning underlying this statement, indeed scarce hearing it, being eager to get the letter which he held. "Oh, from Humility! It is from Humility! Look, little Damaris, a letter from England, writ by Humility Cooper! The Fortune is safely in port, then! Come, my cosset, and I will read you what Humility hath to tell us of her voyage, of home, and all else! First of all shall you and I hear this: then we will hasten to Priscilla Alden and read it to her new little daughter, for she hath been so short a time in Plymouth that she must long for news from across the sea, do you not say so?"
Damaris giggled in enjoyment of Constance's nonsense, which the serious little thing never failed to enter into and to enjoy, as unplayful people always enjoy those who can frolic. The big sister ran away, with the smaller one clinging to her skirt, and with never a backward glance nor thought for John Howland, meditating a great opportunity for Constance, as he sat on the fireside settle.
"Mistress Hopkins, this is your letter," said John, completing his errand when Constance was out of sight.
He offered Dame Eliza her letter. She looked at it and thrust it into her pocket with such a heightened colour and distressed look that even John Howland's preoccupation took note of it.
"This present hour seems to be an opportunity that is a leading, and I will follow this leading, Mistress Hopkins, by your leave," John said. "It cannot be by chance that all obstacles to plain speaking to you are removed. I had thought first to speak to Stephen Hopkins, or perhaps to Constantia herself, but I see that it is better to engage a woman's good offices."
Dame Eliza frowned at him, darkly; she was in no mood for dallying, and this preamble had a sound that she did not like.
"Good offices for what? My good offices? Why?" she snapped. "Why should you speak to Mr. Hopkins, with whose Christian name better men than you in this colony make less free? And still more I would know why you should speak either first or last to Mistress Constantia? That hath a sound that I do not like, John Howland!"
John Howland stared at her, aghast, a moment, then he said:
"It is my intent, Mistress Eliza Hopkins, to offer to wed Mistress Constantia, and that cannot mislike you. Young though she be, and somewhat frivolous, yet do I hope much for her from marriage with a godly man, and I find her comely to look upon. Therefore——"
"Therefore!" cried Dame Eliza who seemed to have lost her breath for a moment in sheer angry amazement. "Therefore you would make a fool of yourself, had not it been done for you at your birth! Art completely a numbskull, John Howland, that you speak as though it was a favour, and a matter for you to weigh heavily before coming to it, that you might make Stephen Hopkins's daughter your wife? Put the uneasiness that it gives you as to her light-mindedness out of your thoughts, nor dwell over-much upon her comeliness, for your own good! Comely is she, and a rare beauty, to give her partly her due. And what is more, is she a sweet and noble lass, graced with wit and goodness that far exceed your knowledge; not even her father can know as I do, with half my sore reason, her patience, her charity, her unfailing generosity to give, or to forgive. Marry Constance, forsooth! Why, man, there is not a man in this Plymouth settlement worthy of her latchets, nor in all England is there one too good for her, if half good enough! Your eyes will be awry and for ever weak from looking so high for your mate. But that you are the veriest ninny afoot I would deal with you, John Howland, for your impudence! Learn your place, man, and never let your conceit so run away with you that you dare to speak as if you were hesitant as to Mr. Hopkins's daughter to be your wife! Zounds! John, get out of my sight lest I be tempted to take my broom and clout ye! Constance Hopkins and you, forsooth! Oh, be gone, I tell ye! She's the pick and flower of maidens, in Plymouth or England, or where you will!"