Then all at once her face brightened.
"Why," said she, "I hear that you gave my father a riding-whip on his going."
"Did you not see it, Judith?" he said, with some disappointment. "I meant you to have seen it. The handle was of ivory, and of a rare carving."
"I was not at the door when they went away—I met my father as they passed along the road," said she. "But I shall see it, doubtless, when he comes home again. And what said he? Was he pleased? He thanked you right heartily, did he not?"
"Yes, truly; but 'twas a trifling matter."
"My father thinks more of the intention than of the value of such a gift," said she—"as I would."
It was an innocent and careless speech, but it seemed to suddenly inspire him with a kind of wild wish.
"Ah," said he, regarding her, "if you, Judith, now, would but take some little gift from me—no matter what—that would be a day I should remember all my life."
"Will you not come into the house?" said she, quickly. "My grandam will be right glad to see you."
She would have led the way; but he hesitated.