“Swounds!” says he, with a spark of the old fire in him, “and so I would, egad! Well, well, ’tis too late now to kick sleeping dogs, and I’m pleased with thee, Dick, for thy recent conduct. The lass Alison seems mighty taken with thee.” “I was afraid,” says I, “that Mistress Alison looked on me as a renegade, and could ill abide my presence.” “Pish!” says he, “’tis a woman’s way. I’ll not deny,” he says, “that she has had no liking for thee, because the wench is all for His Majesty, and we love not to have a renegade in the family, nephew Dick. But thy conduct of the last day or two,” he says, “has changed her thoughts of thee, an I mistake not. There is a cordial by thee, lad; give me a drink--I grow somewhat faint.” “Dear sir,” says I, “I am sure that it is not good for you to talk. Let me go away, and do you compose yourself to sleep.” “Faith!” says he, making a wry face as he drank the cordial, “I shall have sleep enough enow, nephew. Let me talk while I can. What thinkest thou of thy cousin, Dick?” he says, giving me a sharp glance. “Why, sir,” says I, “I think she is the handsomest woman I ever saw.” “Ha!” says he. “Thou thinkest so, eh? I have left her all I have,” he says, still keeping his eyes on mine. “Every acre and every penny,” says he. “I am unfeignedly glad to hear it, sir,” says I, “for I am sure she deserves it.” “It would ha’ been thine,” he says, “if thou hadst behaved thyself.” “One must pay for misbehaviour, sir,” says I. “I am not sure,” says he, plucking at the bedclothes, “that I should not alter matters if there were a chance.” “Pray you, sir,” says I, “don’t think of such a thing. I am very well provided for,” I says. And so I was, seeing that I was pretty sure to be either shot or hanged within the next few days. “Well, well,” says he. “But things will turn out well. I wish thee to marry Alison, nephew Dick.” “Sir!” says I. “Swounds!” says he. “Thou art not already married?” “No, dear sir,” says I. “Then there is no need for astonishment,” says he. “And, egad, she is as proper a wench----” “Sir,” says I. “She is the handsomest woman that ever I saw, but I fear she is beyond me. And besides,” I says, “I don’t think she likes me.” “Pish!” says he. “Thou art but a lad, and therefore knowest naught of women. There is but one way of wooing, and that is to be masterful. Let ’em see that you’re master,” he says, with a chuckle that came very feeble, “and they’re won.” “Faith!” thinks I. “If that’s so I must ha’ won my fair cousin already, for I have been masterful enough with her, in all conscience! I will bear your advice in mind, sir,” I says aloud. “I would like to see it,” he says, as if to himself. “But my days are numbered, nephew. Howbeit, if I die before this trouble comes to an end, I trust to thee to see thy cousin in safety.” “Sir,” says I. “I will defend her to the best of my power. Trust me for that,” I says, laying my hand on his own, which was very cold and white.