“Do you intend to disable me?” he asked, as he put her arms from about him. “Thirty-five long years have I lived with you, and never listened to such language. But since you have become Job’s wife, I must be Job, and shew patience. Come, wife, kiss me,” and he gave a loud and hearty laugh, which he suppressed when he remembered that it was the sabbath.
“Fie, fie, Hans, to speak of kissing before a young lady! It is unseemly.”
“Verily, dame, Miss Evelyn knew what kissing meant before. She blushes—Good morning, Miss Evelyn. Good morning, dame. Hush, just one, do not make a disturbance; it is the sabbath.”
The miller walked up the glen, and soon gained the highway. At every step he beheld proofs of the bad effects of the “Book of Sports.” No crowds were to be seen moving to church, but they were loitering by the way, engaged in mirth and games.
“Ha!” exclaimed Hans, as he beheld an old man tottering on before him,—“who can this be? I should know his gait, but then, his apparel is changed. It is old Sir Robert; but before, he was always dressed as a gay cavalier.”
The old knight turned round. His white locks hung over a plain-fashioned coat, and his hat was stripped of the proud plume which he had once sported. His age might be seventy, although his face was rosy.
“Well, well, good miller,” he kindly said, “art thou alone also? I left my beloved daughters at home, for I am fearful of the times.”
“You have nothing to fear, Sir Robert,” replied the miller, “in Lancaster, since you are a Royalist.”
“A Royalist!” echoed the knight, and he shook his head. “Not much of that now; no, no. The king has become a tyrant, and I disown his cause. A gallant nephew of mine, a roundhead by principle, in a battle of last month, was made prisoner, and the king gave him no quarter—but death!”