Now, look to it,
master, it is no light matter that will move him; but almost or ere I
showed him the first glimpse of the business he waxed furious, and said
that he cared not if all the unwed hussies in Christendom were hung up
in a row, like rats on a string."
"It is Kate's birthday," answered the merchant, "to-night being the
feast of St Bartlemy; but, as thou knowest well, the astrologer that
cast her figure gave no hope of her amendment should this day pass and
never a husband. Who would yoke with a colt untamed? O Timothy! it were
well nigh to make an old man weep. I am a withered trunk. Better had I
been childless than have this proud wench to trouble mine house."
The old man here wept, and it was a grievous thing to see his wrinkled
cheeks become, as it were, but the sluices and channels of his tears.
Timothy, too, was something moved from his common posture; and once he
endeavoured to turn, as though he would hide his face from his master's
trouble.
He sought to speak, but an evil and husky sort of humour settled in his
throat, and he waited silently the subsiding of the sorrow he could not
quell.
Pages:
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438