The young man was amused, and could not refrain from laughing heartily. But the girl’s brow darkened as she watched him, and her under lip fell as if she would like to cry. “If you go on laughing,” she said, “I’ll run straight back home, and never come here no more.” “Well, I’ll try to keep my countenance; but the idea is very funny. Really, now? Don’t you see it in that light yourself?” Certainly Matt did not, to judge from the expression of her face. She turned her head away; and Brinkley saw, to his surprise, that a tear was rolling down her cheek. “Come, Matt,” he said kindly; “you mustn’t take this so seriously. Tell me all about it--there’s a good girl.” “I will--if you won’t laugh.” “I won’t then--there.” “Well, when I was lying in my bed this morning, I heard William Jones a-talking to some one. He thought I was asleep, but I got up and listened, and I heard Mr. Monk’s voice; and he said, says he, ‘She’s over sixteen years old, and I’ll marry her;’ and William Jones said, ‘Lord, Mr. Monk; what can you be a-thinking about? Matt ain’t old enough; and, what’s more, she ain’t fit to be the wife of a fine gentleman.’ Then Mr. Monk he stamped with his foot, like he does when he’s in a passion, and he said, says he, ‘My mind’s made up, William Jones, and I’m going to marry her before the year’s out; and I don’t care how soon.’ Then I heard them moving about, and I crept back to bed and pretended to be fast asleep.” The young man’s astonishment increased. There could be no doubt of the veracity and sincerity of the speaker; and the story she told was certainly puzzling. Brinkley made up his mind, without much reflection, that if Mr. Monk wanted to go through the marriage ceremony with that child, he had some special and mysterious reason for so doing; unless--which was scarcely possible--he was of a sentimental disposition, and, in the manner of many men advanced towards middle age, was enamoured of Matt’s youth and inexperience. “Tell me, Matt,” said Brinkley, after pondering the matter for some minutes; “tell me how long have you known this Mr. Monk?” “Ever since I come ashore,” was the reply. “Humph! Is he well-to-do?--rich?” Matt nodded emphatically. “All Abertaw belongs to him,” she said; “and the woods up there, and the farms, and the horses up at the big house, and--everything.” “And though he is such a great person he is very friendly with William Jones?” “Oh yes,” answered Matt; “and I think William Jones is afraid of him--sometimes; but he gives William Jones money for keeping me.” “Oh, indeed! He gives him money, does he? That’s rather kind of him, you know.”