A deep sigh was the only response.
"Had words with your sweetheart?"
"You know I have no sweetheart, sir."
The good-natured Squire made an attempt or two to console her and find out what was the matter; but he could get nothing out of her but monosyllables and sighs. At last the crocodile contrived to cry. And having thus secured his pity, she said: "There, never heed me. I'm a foolish woman; I can't bear to see my dear master so abused."
"What d' ye mean?" said Griffith, sternly. Her very first shaft wounded his peace of mind.
"O, no matter! why should I be your friend and my own enemy? If I tell you, I shall lose my place."
"Nonsense, girl, you shall never lose your place while I am here."
"Well, I hope not, sir; for I am very happy here; too happy methinks, when you speak kindly to me. Take no notice of what I said. 'T is best to be blind at times."
The simple Squire did not see that this artful woman was playing the stale game of her sex; stimulating his curiosity under pretence of putting him off. He began to fret with suspicion and curiosity, and insisted on her speaking out.
"Ah! but I am so afraid you will hate me," said she; "and that will be worse than losing my place."