“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.”

“A little timid girl!” cried Mrs. Berry.  “Oh, lor’, how she must ha’ deceived ye to make ye think that!  Look at that ring,” she held out her finger, “he’s a stranger:  he’s not my lawful!  You know what ye did to me, my dear.  Could I get my own wedding-ring back from her?  ‘No!’ says she, firm as a rock, ’he said, with this ring I thee wed’—­I think I see her now, with her pretty eyes and lovesome locks—­a darlin’!—­And that ring she’d keep to, come life, came death.  And she must ha’ been a rock for me to give in to her in that.  For what’s the consequence?  Here am I,” Mrs. Berry smoothed down the back of her hand mournfully, “here am I in a strange ring, that’s like a strange man holdin’ of me, and me a-wearin’ of it just to seem decent, and feelin’ all over no better than a b—­a big—­that nasty came I can’t abide!—­I tell you, my dear, she ain’t soft, no!—­except to the man of her heart; and the best of women’s too soft there—­mores our sorrow!”

“Well, well!” said Richard, who thought he knew.

“I agree with you, Mrs. Berry,” Ripton struck in, “Mrs. Richard would do anything in the world her husband asked her, I’m quite sure.”

“Bless you for your good opinion, Mr. Thompson!  Why, see her! she ain’t frail on her feet; she looks ye straight in the eyes; she ain’t one of your hang-down misses.  Look how she behaved at the ceremony!”

“Ah!” sighed Ripton.

“And if you’d ha’ seen her when she spoke to me about my ring!  Depend upon it, my dear Mr. Richard, if she blinded you about the nerve she’ve got, it was somethin’ she thought she ought to do for your sake, and I wish I’d been by to counsel her, poor blessed babe!—­And how much longer, now, can ye stay divided from that darlin’?”

Richard paced up and down.

“A father’s will,” urged Mrs. Berry, “that’s a son’s law; but he mustn’t go again’ the laws of his nature to do it.”

“Just be quiet at present—­talk of other things, there’s a good woman,” said Richard.

Mrs. Berry meekly folded her arms.

“How strange, now, our meetin’ like this! meetin’ at all, too!” she remarked contemplatively.  “It’s them advertisements!  They brings people together from the ends of the earth, for good or for bad.  I often say, there’s more lucky accidents, or unlucky ones, since advertisements was the rule, than ever there was before.  They make a number of romances, depend upon it!  Do you walk much in the Gardens, my dear?”

“Now and then,” said Richard.

“Very pleasant it is there with the fine folks and flowers and titled people,” continued Mrs. Berry.  “That was a handsome woman you was a-walkin’ beside, this mornin’.”