"Let the gudgeons rest," said Master Peasegood. "They have all gone overboard like so many finny Jonahs, for the benefit of those on board this ship; and, if they are lucky, they will soon be safe in so many whales' insides. Ha, ha, ha! Master Brisdone, I'm afraid I'm a very irreverent disciple. By all the saints, there goes one of the Jonahs. See!" He pointed to where, just by a reed-bed towards which the bladder had drifted, there was a tremendous swirl in the water, and away it went skimming along at a rapid rate. "Ha, yes, I suppose that will be a great fish," said Father Brisdone, sadly; "but I was thinking of the maiden at yon house--sweet little Mace." "Bless her!" said Master Peasegood. "Amen," said his companion. "Brother Joseph, she is at a perilous age, and I do not think her father's to be trusted." "You mean with her future?" said Master Peasegood. "I fear so too. Poor child, she needs a mother's counsel!" "Think you she has a lover?" said Father Brisdone, quietly. "Two fierce luces playing round the little gudgeon," cried Master Peasegood, excitedly. "One of them will snatch it up directly. Nay, nay," he continued, reddening; "I meant no inference. I was thinking of yon bait. There it goes." He pointed to where a gudgeon had leaped several times out of the water to escape a couple of fierce pike, one of which seized it and bore it off. "Lovers?" he continued. "Yes, that courtly fellow from town is trying to win her, and so is Gilbert Carr." "And she?" "She loves Culverin Carr with all her pretty little soul, but he shall not have her unless--" "Unless what?" "He mends his ways. She shall marry no scapegrace who plays fast and loose with women's hearts. He trifles with Mistress Anne Beckley, and the silly girl is mad for him." "Nay, I think you wrong him, brother. I believe in Gil Carr as a true gentleman at heart. I love the brave, bold youth." "I hope I do wrong him," said Master Peasegood. "He's a fine, handsome fellow, but I will not have my little white moth played with, and the tender down upon her winglets crushed by unholy hands." "Why do you call her white moth?" said the father, dreamily. "It is a fancy of the people here, because she dresses in white; and they meet her, looking soft, and white, and ethereal, in the woody lanes at eventide where moths abound. Ah, Father Brisdone, happy men are we who early marry ourselves to the Church, and know nought of these fleshly troubles. Yes, they call her the white moth; and between ourselves it's a glowworm that often comes wooing to her, and I fear his light will burn." Father Brisdone sighed. "Ha, ha, ha! that's because another Jonah has gone down," said Master Peasegood, pointing to a flying bladder. "Nay," said the other sadly; "I sighed at your words about our being happier without these fleshly cares. I don't know--I don't know."