"Luke, what do you mean? Are you asking for Clarice?" inquired the dame.
"Yes, Mrs. Briton."
"That's right enough, old woman," said Briton; and strong approval, together with some emotion, was in his voice.
"Babes in arms, both of 'em! But a promise a'n't no hurt,"—was the dame's comment. Neither was she quite unmoved, as she looked at the young pair standing on the hearth; such another, her heart told her, was not to be found in Diver's Bay.
"Clarice is a good girl, Luke Merlyn," said Old Briton, solemnly.
"She is so," confirmed the mother. "So take the ring there for your token."
Luke came forward and received the ring from Old Briton, and he laid the string that held it round Clarice's neck.
"Take this chain," said Briton, with a softened voice. "It's fitter than the string, and none too good for Clarice. Take it, Luke, and put the ring on't."
"I'm going to trade that chain for a silver watch," said Luke, answering according to the light he saw in the eyes of Clarice. "That chain is Clary's wedding present to her father."
"Thank you, Luke," said Briton,—and he drew his hand across his eyes, not for a pretence. Then he took up his old pewter watch, the companion of many years; he looked at it without and within, silently; perhaps was indulging in a little sentimental reflection; but he put it into his pocket without speaking, and went on with his supper, as if nothing had happened.