the word means."

Clarice's inner consciousness violently contradicted this sweeping
statement. But she kept silence still.

"Ah, I see!" said her mother, laughing. "Not a word dost thou credit
me. I may as well save my breath to cool my porridge. Howsoe'er,
Clarice, when thou hast come to forty years, if I am yet alive, let me
hear thy thoughts thereupon. Long ere that time come, as sure as eggs
be eggs, thou shalt be a-reading the same lesson to a lass of thine, if
it please God so to bless thee. And she'll not believe thee a word, any
more than thou dost me. Eh, these young folks, these young folks!
truly, they be rare fun for us old ones. They think they've gotten all
the wisdom that ever dwelt in King Solomon's head, and we may stand
aside and doff our caps to them. Good lack!--but this world is a queer
place, and a merry!"

Clarice thought she had not found it a merry locality by any means.

"And what ails thee at thy knight, child? He is as well-favoured and
tall of his hands as e'er a one. Trust me, but I liked him well, and so
said thy father. He is a pleasant fellow, no less than a comely. What
ails thee at him?"

"Dame, I cannot feel to trust him."

"Give o'er with thy nonsense! Thou mayest trust him as well as another
man. They are all alike. They want their own way, and to please
themselves, and if they've gotten a bit of time and thought o'er they'll
maybe please thee at after. That's the way of the world, child. If
thou art one of those silly lasses that look for a man who shall never
let his eyes rove from thee, nor never make no love to nobody else, why,
thou mayest have thy search for thy pains. Thou art little like to
catch that lark afore the sky falls."

Clarice thought that lark had been caught for her, and had been torn
from her.

"And what matter?" continued Dame La Theyn. "If a man likes his wife
the best, and treats her reasonable kind, as the most do--and I make no
doubt thine shall--why should he not have his little pleasures? Thou
canst do a bit on thine own account. But mind thou, keep on the
windward side o' decency. 'Tis no good committing o' mortal sin, and a
deal o' trouble to get shriven for it. Mind thy ways afore the world!
And let not thy knight get angered with thee, no more. But I'll tell
thee, Clarice, thou wilt anger him afore long, to carry thyself thus
towards him. Of course a man knows he must put up with a bit of
perversity and bashfulnes