"The hero of a birthnight is no more to be denied than the King himself," she said, turning for a last smile at her court. Then as soon as they were out of hearing, "Romney, what is the matter? Have I a black smooch on my nose, or did I talk too much or laugh too loud that you look so—so—so righteously disapproving?"
"If you are satisfied with your conduct I shall not presume to disapprove."
"If I were satisfied with my conduct I should not care a halfpenny whether you disapproved or not. It's just because I am not satisfied in the least that it makes me so vexed that you do presume to disapprove. See you not why I cannot bear to have you think ill of me?"
Romney's heart beat thick and fast.
"Why, Peggy? Will you not tell me why?"
"Because if you do your mother will, and then I should have only your father for my friend, and by and by—perhaps—who knows?—he would give me up too."
Romney's spirits, which had risen to boiling point at her question, sank to freezing at her answer. The lights seemed to fade out of the hundred candles and leave the hall gloomy; he heard the fiddles scraping out the tune of "Oil of Barley," and he hated the music ever after. In silence he stalked on to the door of the supper-room. Within was a merry din of talk and laughter.
"Come, Peggy," said the hostess, "I was looking for you. We are waiting for you to cut the birthday cakes. Good friends all," she continued, turning to the company, "we have here two birthday cakes, and in each lies hid one half of a gimmal ring, which, as you know, is made of two rings that do fit together to form one. On the man's ring is inscribed 'to get,' and on the maid's, 'her,' and being united they read 'together.' Come, Peggy, cut and choose first lot for the maid's ring!"
Amid much shouting and laughter the lots were cast, and when it was found that the lucky numbers had been drawn by Mistress Neville and Captain Snow, all the company save one found the result vastly diverting. The Captain fastened his half conspicuously over his breast, and Peggy mischievously slipped hers upon the marriage finger.
Humphrey Huntoon, seeing the gathering cloud on Romney's brow, filled a goblet from the great punch-bowl which stood in the centre of the table flanked by candelabra bearing twenty candles each.