“Come, come, Wright, I’ll not listen to your light-lying of Mistress Bradford’s sister. ’Tis a good girl as ever stepped and a pure maid as lives in Plymouth, but she’s young, man, a score of years younger than you, and doubtless she’s known the man in England, and they’ve met by chance, and he is parley-vooing after the fashion of his kind, and she knows not how to be rid of him. Come, go you down, man! Or go with me, if it suits you better.” “No, Captain, I’ll not go.” And the stubborn face hardened in the utterly discouraging way some faces can. “But I’ll ask this much of your kindness, friend: go you and meet them, and find out, as you so well can do, what is the meaning and the intent of it all; and especially tell me if you as an honest man will say to me that this maid is such a maid as a cautious, God-fearing man may crave for his wife. I will trust to your discretion rather than to mine own fears, Standish.” “Well, man, I’ll try to warrant your trust,” replied the captain, laughing a little, “although I do not feel it in myself to be the judge in a Court of Love such as they hold in France and those parts. But you may be sure I’ll deal fairly both by you and the maid. Come after sunset and I’ll tell you how I have fared.” “Nay, Pris, sweet Pris, ’tis such a pretty name I fain would dwell on’t since I may not take sweeter dews upon my lips, believe me, fairest, I have forgot nothing of that fair memory; all I then said I say now and again and again! I came to New England for naught but to find thee once more, and to woo thee for mine own dear wife and lady paramount so long”-- But upon the smooth and dulcet tones of the knight suddenly intruded a strident and mocking voice:-- “Good-e’en to you, Mistress Prissie; so you are looking for mayflowers already?” “Ah! Oh, Captain Standish, how you startled me! I knew not you were here.” “Nay, I’m grieved to have startled you, mistress, but why should not I take my walks abroad and look for mayflowers as well as you, or at least as well as this gentleman, whose walks in life have not always led him in such pleasant paths, more than mine own. How say you, Sir Christopher? We did not gather posies much in those stirring days among the Turks wherein I first met your knightship.” “I do not remember meeting you, Captain Standish, before I came to New England,” replied the knight coldly. “No? Well, you are an older man than I, and your memory more laden, so like enough a little matter may well slip out of it. But when I saw you there at Passonagessit t’other day I was sure ’twas not the first time. And how is the fair lady we saw with you? Your wife, is she not?” “No, sir, she is not my wife!” thundered Sir Christopher, and the captain’s face assumed an expression of dismay and embarrassment.