Audrey

"What does it all mean?" cried Audrey, with heaving bosom. "Why did she

put these things upon me, and why will she tell me nothing? If Hugon has

hand in it"-The minister made a gesture of contempt. "Hugon! Hugon, half Monacan and

half Frenchman, is bartering skins with a Quaker. Begone, child, and when

you are transformed return to us."

When the door had closed he turned upon his wife. "The girl has been cared

for," he said. "She has been fed,--if not with cates and dainties, then

with bread and meat; she has been clothed,--if not in silk and lace, then

in good blue linen and penistone. She is young and of the springtime, hath

more learning than had many a princess of old times, is innocent and good

to look at. Thou and the rest of thy sex are fools, Deborah, but wise men

died not with Solomon. It matters not about her dress."

Rising, he went to a shelf of battered, dog-eared books, and taking down

an armful proceeded to strew the volumes upon the table. The red blooms of

the columbine being in the way, he took up the bunch and tossed it out of

the window. With the light thud of the mass upon the ground eyes of

husband and wife met.

"Hugon would marry the girl," said the latter, twisting the hem of her

apron with restless fingers.

Without change of countenance, Darden leaned forward, seized her by the

shoulder and shook her violently. "You are too given to idle and

meaningless words, Deborah," he declared, releasing her. "By the Lord, one

of these days I'll break you of the habit for good and all! Hugon, and

scarlet flowers, and who will marry Audrey, that is yet but a child and

useful about the house,--what has all this to do with the matter in hand,

which is simply to make ourselves and our house presentable in the eyes of

my chief parishioner? A man would think that thirteen years in Virginia

would teach any fool the necessity of standing well with a powerful

gentleman such as this. I'm no coward. Damn sanctimonious parsons and my

Lord Bishop's Scotch hireling! If they yelp much longer at my heels, I'll

scandalize them in good earnest! It's thin ice, though,--it's thin ice;

but I like this house and glebe, and I'm going to live and die in

them,--and die drunk, if I choose, Mr. Commissary to the contrary! It's of

import, Deborah, that my parishioners, being easy folk, willing to live

and let live, should like me still, and that a majority of my vestry

should not be able to get on without me. With this in mind, get out the

wine, dust the best chair, and be ready with thy curtsy. It will be time

enough to cry Audrey's banns when she is asked in marriage."