The Heart

"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.