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Updated: June 29, 2025
Now, in courtship, Master Mervale, one traverses ground more dubious than the Indies, and the truth, Master Mervale, is a jewel of great price." Master Mervale raised his eyebrows. "The truth?" he queried, gently. "Now how, I wonder, did your lordship happen to think of that remote abstraction." For beyond doubt, Lord Falmouth's wooing had been that morning of a rather florid sort.
For else go, lad, and fetch him!" For a moment the boy faced the half-shut pale eyes that were like coals smouldering behind a veil of gray ash. Then he shrugged his shoulders, sauntered forward, and doffed his hat to the Lady Ursula. There followed much laughter among the three, many explanations from Master Mervale, and yet more laughter from the lady and the earl.
After many angry throes, a white-lilac bush had been delivered of the Marquis of Falmouth, who now confronted Master Mervale, furiously moved. Love Rises from un-Cytherean Waters "I have heard, Master Mervale," said the marquis, gently, "that love is blind?" The boy stared at the white face, that had before his eyes veiled rage with a crooked smile.
"She loved you?" Master Mervale suggested. "God help me!" replied the marquis; "we loved each other! I know not how you came by your information, nor do I ask. Yet, it is ill to open an old wound. I loved her; let that suffice."
"With a sword one may pick a cork from a bottle; with a sword one may toast cheese about the Twelfth Night fire; and with a sword one may spit a man, Master Mervale, ay, even an ambling, pink-faced, lisping lad that cannot boo at a goose, Master Mervale. I have no inclination, Master Mervale, just now, for either wine or toasted cheese."
"That skinflint! that palsied goat!" the marquis growled. "He was wealthy," said Master Mervale. Then he sighed once more. "There seemed only you, only you in all the world. A man might come to you in those far-off countries: a woman might not.
"My lord," said the boy, dully, "I do not understand you." "Holy Gregory!" scoffed the marquis; "surely my meaning is plain enough! it is to kill you first, and my lord of Pevensey afterward! Y'are phoenixes, Master Mervale, Arabian birds! Y'are too good for this world. Longaville is not fit to be trodden under your feet; and therefore it is my intention that you leave Longaville feet first.
So," said Master Mervale, "we put our heads together, Stephen, as you observe." "Indeed," my lord of Falmouth said, "it would seem that you two wenches have, between you, concocted a very pleasant comedy." "It was not all a comedy," sighed Master Mervale, "not all a comedy, Stephen, until to-day when you told Master Mervale the story of Katherine Beaufort. For I did not know I could not know "
The estates lie convenient, the families are of equal rank, her father is agreed, and she has a sufficiency of beauty; there are, in short, no obstacles to our union save you and my lord of Pevensey, and these, I confess, I do not fear. I can wait, Master Mervale. Oh, I am patient, Master Mervale, but, I own, I cannot brook denial. It is I, or no one. By Saint Gregory!
I did not dare. We parted in what lamentable fashion is now of little import and I set forth to seek my fortune. Ho, it was a brave world then, Master Mervale, for all the tears that were scarce dried on my cheeks!
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