"Give me another kiss, child, before I defile my lips with strong liquor. Hah," he added, after the salute, "that was as fresh as the touch of a dewy blossom at early morn. God's blessing be on the man who wins thy love, my child, and may he make thee a very, very happy wife. Nay, nay, don't blush, child," he continued, patting the hand he still retained. "I am a confirmed old bachelor, and shall never wed; but I hold, as opposed to Father Brisdone--the devil take him!--that there is no purer and no holier thing in life than the love of a good man for a sweet, pure woman, unless it be the love of the woman for the man." "You do not drink your ale, Master Peasegood;" said Mace, blushing, and looking pained. "Nay, my child, that can rest, for now we are on this topic of love I want to talk to thee. Come, come, look not so angered with me. You've grown a beautiful woman, Mace: but I seem always to be looking at my pretty, prattling babe, who brought me flowers every Sabbath day. Ah! my child, time flies apace--_tempus edax rerum_, as Father Brisdone would say. But hearken to me, child, I am no father confessor, but if my little Maybud did not open her sweet young heart to me 'twould grieve me sore." "Oh, Master Peasegood," cried Mace, enlacing her hands, and resting them on his shoulder, as he seated himself on a chair, which groaned beneath his weight, "I have not a thought that I would keep from thee." "I know thou hast not," he said. "So tell me--this courtly spark, has he said words of love?" "Nay, Master Peasegood, but he sighs and gazes at me pensively, and lingers here as if he wished me to believe he was in love." "And you? What of this little heart? What think you of his gay clothes and courtly ways, and smooth manners and gentle words?" "I think him a good-looking, pleasant-spoken gentleman enough," said Mace. "Ah! that will do," cried the parson, smiling, as he gazed into the maiden's clear, bright eyes. "That will do, my rosebud; not a quiver of the eyelids; not a blush; not a trembling of the lips. Faith, child, you've set my heart at ease. There, keep thine own fast locked till the good, true man shall come and knock, and ask for entrance. Then, child, open it wide, and shut it, and lock him in, never to set him free." Mace nodded and smiled. "That's only part of my errand, child; the other is about Culverin Carr, our bold captain. What of him? Aha! does that prick?" He held the girl's hand tightly, for she turned half away, with a pained look in her face, and the tears rose to her eyes. "Well, and ill," cried Master Peasegood, shaking his head. "What does it mean, child? You care for him, I think?" "I hardly know," sighed Mace. "Then you do," said Master Peasegood, nodding his big head. "There's no doubt about such matters, child. But tell me all--you may trust me-- does he know you like him?" "Oh, yes," cried Mace, "and my father has forbidden him to come to the house."