Mr. Coxe hung his head a little, and meditated.
"I do love Miss Gibson," said he, at length. "Who could help it?"
"Mr. Wynne, I hope!" said Mr. Gibson.
"His heart is pre-engaged," replied Mr. Coxe. "Mine was free as air
till I saw her."
"Would it tend to cure your--well! passion, we'll say--if she wore
blue spectacles at meal-times? I observe you dwell much on the beauty
of her eyes."
"You are ridiculing my feelings, Mr. Gibson. Do you forget that you
yourself were young once?"
"Poor Jeanie" rose before Mr. Gibson's eyes; and he felt a little
rebuked.
"Come, Mr. Coxe, let us see if we can't make a bargain," said he,
after a minute or so of silence. "You have done a really wrong thing,
and I hope you are convinced of it in your heart, or that you will
be when the heat of this discussion is over, and you come to think a
little about it. But I won't lose all respect for your father's son.
If you will give me your word that, as long as you remain a member of
my family--pupil, apprentice, what you will--you won't again try to
disclose your passion--you see I am careful to take your view of what
I should call a mere fancy--by word or writing, looks or acts, in any
manner whatever, to my daughter, or to talk about your feelings to
any one else, you shall remain here. If you cannot give me your word,
I must follow out the course I named, and write to your father's
agent."
Mr. Coxe stood irresolute.
"Mr. Wynne knows all I feel for Miss Gibson, sir. He and I have no
secrets from each other."
"Well, I suppose he must represent the reeds. You know the story of
King Midas's barber, who found out that his royal master had the ears
of an ass beneath his hyacinthine curls. So the barber, in default
of a Mr. Wynne, went to the reeds that grew on the shores of a
neighbouring lake, and whispered to them, 'King Midas has the ears of
an ass.' But he repeated it so often that the reeds learnt the words,
and kept on saying them all day long, till at last the secret was no
secret at all. If you keep on telling your tale to Mr. Wynne, are you
sure he won't repeat it in his turn?"
"If I pledge my word as a gentleman, sir, I pledge it for Mr. Wynne
as well."
"I suppose I must run the risk. But remember how soon a young girl's
name may be breathed upon, and sullied. Molly has no mother, and for
that very reason she ought to move among you all, as unharmed as Una
herself."