Berry, my dear young gentleman. Some men’s hearts is vagabonds born—they must go astray—it’s their natur’ to. But all men are men, and I know the foundation of ’em, by reason of my woe.” Mrs. Berry paused. Richard was humorously respectful to the sermon. The truth in the good creature’s address was not to be disputed, or despised, notwithstanding the inclination to laugh provoked by her quaint way of putting it. Ripton nodded encouragingly at every sentence, for he saw her drift, and wished to second it. Seeking for an illustration of her meaning, Mrs. Berry solemnly continued: “We all know what checked prespiration is.” But neither of the young gentlemen could resist this. Out they burst in a roar of laughter. “Laugh away,” said Mrs. Berry. “I don’t mind ye. I say again, we all do know what checked prespiration is. It fly to the lungs, it gives ye mortal inflammation, and it carries ye off. Then I say checked matrimony is as bad. It fly to the heart, and it carries off the virtue that’s in ye, and you might as well be dead! Them that is joined it’s their salvation not to separate! It don’t so much matter before it. That Mr. Thompson there—if he go astray, it ain’t from the blessed fold. He hurt himself alone—not double, and belike treble, for who can say now what may be? There’s time for it. I’m for holding back young people so that they knows their minds, howsomever they rattles about their hearts. I ain’t a speeder of matrimony, and good’s my reason! but where it’s been done—where they’re lawfully joined, and their bodies made one, I do say this, that to put division between ’em then, it’s to make wanderin’ comets of ’em—creatures without a objeck, and no soul can say what they’s good for but to rush about!” Mrs. Berry here took a heavy breath, as one who has said her utmost for the time being. “My dear old girl,” Richard went up to her and, applauding her on the shoulder, “you’re a very wise old woman. But you mustn’t speak to me as if I wanted to stop here. I’m compelled to. I do it for her good chiefly.” “It’s your father that’s doin’ it, my dear?” “Well, I’m waiting his pleasure.” “A pretty pleasure! puttin’ a snake in the nest of young turtle-doves! And why don’t she come up to you?” “Well, that you must ask her. The fact is, she’s a little timid girl—she wants me to see him first, and when I’ve made all right, then she’ll come.”