"No, and never will," cried I, so fervently and so echoing to the
full his youthful enthusiasm that again that keen look flashed into
his eyes. "Harry," he stammered out, "you do not--say, for God's
sake, Harry, you are a man if you are a--a--, and every day
have you seen that angel, and--and--Harry, may the devil
take me if I would go against thee if she--you know I would not,
Harry, for I remember well how you taught me to shoot, and,
and--I love thee, Harry, not in such fool fashion as my sister
loveth Mary, but I love thee, and never would I cross thee."
"Sir Humphrey," said I, "it is not what you would, nor what I would,
nor what any other man would, but what be best for Mary Cavendish,
and her true happiness of life, that is to consider, whether you
love her, or I love her, or any other man love her."
"Faith, and a score do," he said, gloomily. "There be my Lord Estes
and her cousin Ralph, and I know not how many more. Faith, I would
not have her less fair, but sometimes I would that a few were
colour-blind. But 'tis different when it comes to thee, Harry. If
she--"
"Sir Humphrey," I said, "were Mary Cavendish thy sister and I
myself, and loving her and she me, and you having that affection
which you say you have for me, would you yet give her to me in
marriage and think it for her good?"
Then the poor lad coloured and stammered, and could not look me in
the face, but it was enough. "Let there be no more talk betwixt you
and me as to that matter, Sir Humphrey," I said. "There is never now
nor at any other time any question of marriage betwixt Mistress Mary
Cavendish and her convict tutor, and if he perchance had been not
colour-blind and had learned to appraise her at her rare worth, the
more had he been set against such. And all that he can do for thee,
lad, he will do."
Sir Humphrey was easily pacified, having been accustomed from his
babyhood to masterly soothing of his mother into her own ways of
thought. Again, in spite of his great stature, he looked up at me
like a very child. "Harry," he whispered, "heard you her ever say
anything pleasant concerning me?"
"Many a time," I answered, quite seriously, though I was inwardly
laughing, and could not for the life of me remember any especial
favour which she had paid him in her speech. But I have ever held
that a bold lover hath the best chance, and knowing that boldness
depends upon assurance of favour, I set about giving it to Sir
Humphrey, even at some small expense of truth.