“After all,” said the planter, “it would be a matter of business. My daughter, even if she wished it, could not afford to part with the girl for less than the market price; which in Yola’s case would be a large one. How much do you suppose I have been offered for her?”
“I’ve heard two hundred pounds, your worship.”
“Just so; and I refused that, too.”
“Maybe, Mr Vaughan, you would not have refused it from another—from me, for instance?”
“Ah, I don’t know about that! But could you raise that large sum?”
“Not just now, your worship. I am sorry to say I could not. I had scraped together as good as a hundred—thinking that would be enough—when, to my sorrow, I learnt I had only got half-way. But, if your worship will only allow me time, I think I can manage—in a month or two—to get the other hundred, and then—”
“Then, worthy captain, it will be time to talk about buying Yola. Meanwhile, I can promise you that she shan’t be sold to anybody else. Will that satisfy you?”
“Oh, thank your worship! It is very kind of you, Mr Vaughan: I’ll not fail to be grateful. So long as Yola—”
“Yola will be safe enough in my daughter’s keeping. But now, my young fellow, since you say this was not exactly the business that brought you here, you have some other, I suppose? Pray tell me what it is.”
The Custos, as he made this request, set himself to listen, in a more attentive attitude than he had yet assumed.