Houseman kept his word; but his refusal cost him more pain than he had counted on when he made the promise. Squire Peyton had paid him thousands first and last; and, when he left Houseman's room, with disappointment, mortification, and humiliation, deeply marked on his features, usually so handsome and jolly, the lawyer felt sorry and ashamed--and did _not_ show it. But it rankled in him; and the very next day he took advantage of a little business he had to do in Mr. Peyton's neighborhood, and drove to Peyton Hall and asked for Mistress Kate. His was a curious errand. Indeed I think it would not be easy to find a parallel to it. For here was an attorney calling upon a beautiful girl; to do what? To soften her. On a daughter; to do what? To persuade her to permit him to lend her father £100 on insufficient security. Well, he reminded her of his ancient obligations to her family, and assured her he could well afford to risk a hundred or even a thousand pounds. He then told her that her father had shown great pain at his refusal, and that he himself was human, and could not divest himself of gratitude, and pity, and good nature--all for £100. "In a word," said he, "I have brought the money; and you must give in for this once, and let me lend it him without more ado." Miss Peyton was gratified, and affected; and a tear trembled a moment in her eye; but went indoors again, and left her firm as a rock, sprinkled with dew. She told him she could quite understand his feeling, and thanked him for it: but she had long and seriously weighed the matter, and could not release him from his promise. "No more of this base borrowing," said she, and clenched her white teeth indomitably. He attacked her with a good many weapons; but she parried them all so gently yet so nobly, and so successfully, that he admired her more than ever. Still, lawyers fight hard; and die very hard. Houseman got warm in his cause, and cross-examined this defendant; and asked her whether _she_ would refuse to lend her father £100 out of a full purse. This question was answered only by a flash of her glorious eyes, and a magnificent look of disdain at the doubt implied. "Well, then," said Houseman, "be your father's surety for repayment with interest at six per centum; and then there will be nothing in the business to wound your dignity. I have many hundreds out at six per centum." "Excuse me: that would be dishonest," said Kate; "I have no money to repay you with." "But you have expectations." "Nay, not I." "I beg your pardon." "Methinks I should know, sir. What expectations have I? and from whom?" Houseman fidgeted on his seat; and then with some hesitation replied, "Well, from two that I know of. "You are jesting, methinks, good Mr. Houseman," said she, reproachfully. "Nay, dear Mistress Kate, I wish you too well to jest on such a theme."