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"He means us to laugh, but he is quite serious. Amias and I just know how he feels. It must be so sad to love the beautiful with all one's heart and not have the power to create to be just a thought and word painter and nothing else." "Perhaps if Malcolm took lessons he might be able to paint in time," suggested Anna.
"There is only one woman in the whole world that I want, and she will have nothing to do with me and my love, and no other woman shall ever be my wife." And then he would wonder sadly what life would be like when he was an old bachelor; would he be living on here with Amias and Verity, or would he go back to his mother and do his duty to her in her old age?
Sir Amias stood by and gave the kindest smile she had seen from him, quite changing his pinched features, and he proposed to the two young people to go and walk in the garden together, letting them out into the square walled garden, very formal, but very bright and gay, and with a pleached alley to shelter them from the sun.
He would not tell you, of course, but this caravan scene is all his idea. He came upon a gipsy encampment in a Kentish lane one afternoon, and he made Amias go down the next day and see it. There was the woodman's hut, and the barn, and the hobbled horse and donkey. Amias was down there at the inn three days, making sketches for the picture, and getting some of the gipsies to sit to him.
The good fellow had visited her constantly, and as soon as she was strong enough to be moved, he took lodgings for her in a farmhouse in Kent where he had often stayed. The woman of the house was a simple, kindly creature who had grown-up daughters of her own, and Amias knew he could safely trust Verity to her care.
"Oh, Amias," exclaimed Verity at last in a laughing voice, "what am I to do with this naughty girlie, who refuses to go to sleep and only laughs in her mother's face? Oh, you darling, you darling!" and here Verity smothered the little one with kisses. "Behold the stern parent!" observed Malcolm mockingly at this point. "Verity, that rogue of a Babs is a match for you already.
"Babs takes after her great-grandmother," observed Amias cheerfully from the background; "it is the law of heredity, you see. Her name was also Barbara Barbara Allen, and she was remarkable for her brown skin, her gipsy beauty, and her incorrigible self-will.
BURLEIGH. It is the pleasure of my royal mistress That nothing reasonable be denied you. MARY. My will, my lord, declares my last desires; I've placed it in the hand of Sir Amias, And humbly beg that it may be fulfilled. PAULET. You may rely on this. MARY. I beg that all My servants unmolested may return To France, or Scotland, as their wishes lead. BURLEIGH. It shall be as you wish.
Verity, who had Babs in her arms, flew to meet him; but Amias merely waved his pipe and grunted in an amicable fashion. "Oh, how tired and dusty you look!" exclaimed Verity, in the pretty, maternal way that always sat so quaintly on her. "Look at him, Amias; I do believe he has walked all those miles from Earlsfield."
So, Sir Amias Paulett, the chase you lured me to was truly of a poor hunted doe whom you think you have run down at last. A worthy chase indeed, and of long continuance!" "I do but obey my orders, madam," said Paulett, gloomily. "Oh ay, and so does the sleuth-hound," said Mary. "Your Grace must be pleased to ride on with me," said Mr. Gorges, laying his hand on her bridle.
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