"Ah, well; life is short and it fades us sore. What does it matter where it passes? I was a buxom lass myself, as you may remember, and look at me now! Not that I was the rare creature that your girl is," sighed Dame Eliza. "Is it true that Mr. Weston is coming hither?" "True that he is coming hither," assented her husband, "and to our house. He hath made us many promises, but kept none. He hath come over with fishermen, in disguise, hath been cast away and lost everything at the hands of savages. He is taking refuge with us and we shall outfit him and deal with him as a brother. I do not believe his protestations of good-will and the service he will do us in return, when he gets back to England. Yet we must deal generously, little as we have to spare, with a man in distress such as his." "Giles is coming now, adown the way with a stranger; is this Mr. Weston?" asked Dame Eliza. "I'll go out to greet and bring him in. Yes; this is the man," said Mr. Hopkins, going forth to welcome a man, whom in his heart he could not but dread. The guest stayed with the Hopkins family for a few days, till the colony should be won over to give him beaver skins, under his promise to repay them with generous interest, when he should have traded them, and was once more in England to send to Plymouth something of its requirements. On the final day of his stay Mr. Weston arose from the best seat in the inglenook, which had been yielded to him as his right, and strolled toward the door. "Come with me, my lad," he said to Giles. "I have somewhat to say to thee." "Why not say it here?" asked Giles, surlily, though he followed slowly after their guest. "Giles Hopkins, you like me not," said Weston, when they had passed out of earshot. "Why is it? Surely I not only use you well, but you are the one person in this plantation that hath all the qualities I like best in a man: brains, courage, youth, good birth, which makes for spirit, and good looks. Your sister is all this and more, yet is the 'more' because she is a maid, and that excludes her from my preference for my purposes. Giles Hopkins, are you the man I take you for?" "Faith, sir, that I cannot tell till you have shown me what form that taking bears," said Giles. "There you show yourself! Prudence added to my list of qualities!" applauded Weston, clapping Giles on the back with real, or pretended enthusiasm. "I take you for a man with resolution, courage to seize an opportunity to make your fortune, to put yourself among those men of consequence who are secure of place, and means to adorn it. Will you march with me upon the way I will open to you?" "'I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none,'" replied Giles. "I don't know where I learned that, but it sounds like one of my father's beloved phrases, from his favourite poet. It seems well to fit the case."