"He has done wisely, and I am satisfied." "I would I could say as much for him, Miss Mathews; for it is my opinion, that his very existence is now so bound up with the possession of you, that if he does not succeed he cannot exist." "That's not my fault," replied Melissa, with her eyes cast down. "No, it is not. Still, Miss Mathews, when it is considered that this man had abjured, I may say, had almost despised women, it is no small triumph to you, or homage from him, that you have made him feel the power of your sex." "It is his just punishment for having despised us." "Perhaps so; yet if we were all punished for our misdeeds, as Shakespeare says, who should escape whipping?" "Pray, Master Tinker, where did you learn to quote Shakespeare?" "Where I learnt much more. I was not always a travelling tinker." "So I presumed before this. And pray how came you to be one?" "Miss Mathews, if the truth must be told, it arose from an unfortunate attachment." "I have read in the olden poets that love would turn a god into a man; but I never heard of its making him a tinker," replied Melissa, smiling. "The immortal Jove did not hesitate to conceal his thunderbolts when he deigned to love; and Cupid but too often has recourse to the aid of Proteus to secure success. We have, therefore, no mean warranty." "And who was the lady of thy love, good Master Tinker?" "She was, Miss Mathews, like you in everything. She was as beautiful, as intelligent, as honest, as proud, and, unfortunately, she was, like you, as obdurate, which reminds me of the unfortunate gentleman whose emissary I now am. In his madness he requested me--yes, Miss Mathews, me a poor tinker--to woo you for him--to say to you all that he would have said had he been admitted to your presence--to plead for him--to kneel for him at your feet, and entreat you to have some compassion for one whose only misfortune was to love--whose only fault was to be poor. What could I say, Miss Mathews--what could I reply to a person in his state of desperation? To reason with him, to argue with him, had been useless; I could only soothe him by making such a promise, provided that I was permitted to do it. Tell me, Miss Mathews, have I your permission to make the attempt?" "First, Mr Tinker, I should wish to know the name of this gentleman." "I promised not to mention it, Miss Mathews; but I can evade the promise. I have a book which belongs to him in my pocket, on the inside of which are the arms of his family, with his father's name underneath them." Spikeman presented the book. Melissa read the name, and then laid it on the bench, without saying a word. "And now, Miss Mathews, as I have shown you that the gentleman has no wish to conceal who he is, may I venture to hope that you will permit me to plead occasionally, when I may see you, in his behalf."