all his love last night. What a stupid brute he was! How it must have made poor Frank wince! And then Frank had listened so kindly; even bid him God speed in his suit. What a gentleman old Frank was, to be sure! No wonder the queen was so fond of him, and all the Court ladies!—Why, if it came to that, what wonder if Rose Salterne should be fond of him too? Hey-day! “That would be a pretty fish to find in my net when I come to haul it!” quoth Amyas to himself, as he paced the garden; and clutching desperately hold of his locks with both hands, as if to hold his poor confused head on its shoulders, he strode and tramped up and down the shell-paved garden walks for a full half hour, till Frank’s voice (as cheerful as ever, though he more than suspected all) called him.
“Come in to breakfast, lad; and stop grinding and creaking upon those miserable limpets, before thou hast set every tooth in my head on edge!”
Amyas, whether by dint of holding his head straight, or by higher means, had got the thoughts of the said head straight enough by this time; and in he came, and fell to upon the broiled fish and strong ale, with a sort of fury, as determined to do his duty to the utmost in all matters that day, and therefore, of course, in that most important matter of bodily sustenance; while his mother and Frank looked at him, not without anxiety and even terror, doubting what turn his fancy might have taken in so new a case; at last—
“My dear Amyas, you will really heat your blood with all that strong ale! Remember, those who drink beer, think beer.”
“Then they think right good thoughts, mother. And in the meanwhile, those who drink water, think water. Eh, old Frank? and here’s your health.”
“And clouds are water,” said his mother, somewhat reassured by his genuine good humor; “and so are rainbows; and clouds are angels’ thrones, and rainbows the sign of God’s peace on earth.”
Amyas understood the hint, and laughed. “Then I’ll pledge Frank out of the next ditch, if it please you and him. But first—I say— he must hearken to a parable; a manner mystery, miracle play, I have got in my head, like what they have at Easter, to the town-hall. Now then, hearken, madam, and I and Frank will act.” And up rose Amyas, and shoved back his chair, and put on a solemn face.
Mrs. Leigh looked up, trembling; and Frank, he scarce knew why, rose.
“No; you pitch again. You are King David, and sit still upon your throne. David was a great singer, you know, and a player on the viols; and ruddy, too, and of a fair countenance; so that will fit. Now, then, mother, don’t look so frightened. I am not going to play Goliath, for all my cubits; I am to present Nathan the prophet. Now, David, hearken, for I have a message unto thee, O King!
“There were two men in one city, one rich, and the other poor: and the rich man had many flocks and herds, and all the fine ladies in Whitehall to court if he liked; and the poor man had nothing but—”
And in spite of his broad honest smile, Amyas’s deep voice began to tremble and choke.
Frank sprang up, and burst into tears: “Oh! Amyas, my brother, my brother! stop! I cannot endure this. Oh, God! was it not enough to have entangled myself in this fatal fancy, but over and above, I must meet the shame of my brother’s discovering it?”
“What shame, then, I’d like to know?” said Amyas, recovering himself. “Look here, brother Frank! I’ve thought it all over in the garden; and I was an ass and a braggart for talking to you as I did last night. Of course you love her! Everybody must; and I was a fool for not recollecting that; and if you love her, your taste and mine agree, and what can be better? I think you are a sensible fellow for loving her, and you think me one. And as for who has her, why, you’re the eldest; and first come first served is the rule, and best to keep to it. Besides, brother Frank, though I’m no scholar, yet I’m not so blind but that I tell