“My sweetheart, worship?”
“Ay, Yola. Is she not your sweetheart?”
“Well, Mr Vaughan,” rejoined the Maroon, “I’m not going to deny that something has passed between me and the young girl; but it wasn’t exactly about her I’ve come to see you, though now, bein’ here, I might as well talk about that matter, too, if it so please your worship.”
“Very good, Captain Cubina. I’m ready to hear what you have to say. Go on!”
“Well, then, your worship, the truth is, I want to buy Yola.”
“What? Buy your own sweetheart?”
“Just so, worship. Of course, as soon as she would be mine, I’d set her free.”
“That is, you would change the bonds she now wears for the bonds of matrimony?—ha! ha! ha! Is that it, Captain Cubina?” and the Custos laughed at the conceit he had so neatly expressed.
“Something of that sort, your worship,” replied the Maroon, slightly participating in the worthy magistrate’s mirth.
“And do you think Yola desires to become Mrs Cubina?”