"Try her, my boy," said Bill—"faint heart never won fair lady, as they say at the fairs, when they wish you to try your luck at the 'rouly-pouly.' I was talking about it myself to the old gentleman not long ago; he highly approves of the match, provided you and his daughter could agree; and Mr Keveley added, that he believed you would not meet a refusal, as his daughter seemed never tired of talking about your exploits, or of hearing of them; so that you see it all depends upon yourself."
Tom, encouraged by these words, resolved, when the vessel should reach Berwick, to set out for Norham; which design he put in execution, a few days after, setting out from Berwick about six in the evening.
After reaching the village, he quickly passed through it to where Mr Keveley's cottage stood. It was a sweet summer evening; and when Tom approached the house, the setting sun was illuminating the windows with his departing rays. A little garden fronted the cottage; and the honeysuckle and jessamine, which had crept up its front, were spreading their fragrance all around. The window of the little parlour looked to the west; it was opened, and Tom heard the sound of a musical instrument, accompanied by a low female voice. He listened for a moment to catch if possible the air, but it seemed a foreign song which the musician was playing. At last, he went up to the door and knocked, whilst his heart went pit-a-pat with emotion. Mr Keveley had gone out, and he found Catherine alone in the parlour. She received him with her usual sweet smile of welcome, and bade him be seated. Tom strove to appear at ease, but his anxiety prevented him, and his confusion was such as to attract the notice of Catherine, who asked him if he was unwell.
"Not exactly that," said Tom; "but"——Here he made a full pause.
"But what?" asked Catherine, unable to divine the cause of his uneasiness.
"Well," said Tom, at length taking courage, "I may as well out with it at once. The truth is, Miss Keveley, I love you dearly; but could never have had the courage to make this declaration, had your father not approved of it."
It was now Catherine's turn to blush, and be silent; at length, regaining the use of her tongue, she replied—"It would not only be affectation, but ingratitude in me, to affect indifference, where my heart is really interested; and, as you say my father sanctions your addresses, there is my hand;—if you think it worth your acceptance, it is at your service."
Tom, unable to contain himself, took her hand, and pressed it to his lips. "I leave you to yourself," said he "for a few minutes, to recover from your confusion"—so saying, he went out for a little; and met Mr Keveley, just returning from a visit to a friend at a little distance, to whom he communicated the pleasing intelligence of his happiness. Mr Keveley took Tom by the hand, and, having embraced him—
"I shall now leave this world," said he, "without a wish unsatisfied. It was the only desire of my heart, before bidding a final adieu to all sublunary things, to see my daughter with a protector for life; and I am glad she has made choice of an honest man, and one every way so deserving of her." So saying, he led Tom back to the parlour, where Catherine still remained seated. After joining their hands, the old gentleman uttered a benediction over them, and embraced them both with much tenderness.
After a short time, Tom took his leave, but not before Catherine had promised that their marriage should take place on an early day.