Randolph’s deep-set eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He said: “You may not be surprised to know that I have had such an ambition as this. Could I look for your encouragement and support, if I entertained the idea of marrying, here among your people, and making my life with your lives?”
“Why, to be sure, friend. I would be the first to welcome the attachment of your heart and your interests among us. And have you looked with favor upon some one of our young women?”
Randolph noted with pleasure that the rose-tree was firmly planted and the earth about it patted and pressed down almost affectionately. “It would hardly be fair,” he said, “to give one flower, only to ask for another.”
“Would you have some of my poor flowers?” said the old man, innocently. “Why you shall, then, anything you like.”
“I spoke of my hopes that I have dared to entertain,” said the visitor. “I referred to the fairest flower in all Boston, indeed in all Massachusetts.”
Donner looked up at him quickly. He rose to his feet, having been down on one knee to plant the rose. “Have I understood you aright?” he said.
“It has slipped from my tongue unguardedly,” said the younger man. “Your encouragement of my hopes led me to this confidence. But I feel I can speak to you almost as if you were in the attitude of a father. I can come to you where I could not come to any other man in Boston. I have seen Mistress Merrill, in the simplicity and piety of her life, and this has made me wish to become one of you, working with you and living your lives. Can you not encourage me so far as this?”
David Donner was all but rendered speechless. Such a thought as that Garde had grown up and blossomed had never entered his mind. But not only to find that this was so, but also to have Edward Randolph—the enemy—desiring this alliance, this was more than he could think of, for a moment. He had egged the man on, while he had some vague idea of some other young woman in mind—some other man’s daughter, or granddaughter,—he had been ready to abet such an arrangement, gladly, for the good of the colony, but to find that it was Garde that Randolph wanted—this was indeed a bolt from a clear sky.
“Friend,” he said, finally, “I shall have to think this over.”
“I feared it would sound abrupt,” said the visitor, “yet it is not a sudden fancy with me. It has been my constant thought for many weeks. I have even foreseen difficulties. I have worked so many years apparently against the interests most dear to the colonists.”