rance, simplicity, and loyalty. He spoke plainly--almost
bluntly--but very forcibly. It was no slight or passing passion which
had brought the squire, a gentleman of a score and more of honourable
descents, to seek such an audience-chamber to sue a pasteboard queen. It
was no weak love which had dislodged him from his old resting-place, and
pitched him to this dreary distance.

Mistress Betty was taken "all in a heap;" she had heard many a
love-tale, but never one with so manly a note. Shrewd, sensitive
Mistress Betty was bewildered and confounded, and in her hurry she
made a capital blunder. She dismissed him summarily, saw how white he
grew, and heard how he stopped to ask if there were no possible
alternative, no period of probation to endure, no achievement to be
performed by him. She waved him off the faster because she became
affrighted at his humility; and got away in her chair, and wrung her
hands, and wept all night in the long summer twilight, and sat
pensive and sick for many days.

In time, Mistress Betty resumed her profession; but she was unusually
languid: she played to disappointed houses, and cherished always, with
more romance, the shade of the brave, trustful, Somersetshire squire and
antiquary. Suddenly she adopted the resolution of retiring from the
stage in the summer of her popularity, and living on her savings and her
poor young brother's bequest. Her tastes were simple; why should she
toil to provide herself with luxuries? She had no one now for whose old
age she could furnish ease, or for the aims and accidents of whose
rising station she need lay by welcome stores; she had not even a nephew
or niece to tease her. She would not wear out the talents a generous man
had admired on a mass of knaves and villains, coxcombs and butterflies;
she would not expose her poor mind and heart to further deterioration.
She would fly from the danger; she would retire, and board with her
cousin Ward, and help her with a little addition to her limited income,
and a spare hand in her small family; and she would jog-trot onwards for
the rest of her life, so that when she came to die, Mistress Prissy and
Mistress Fiddy would have no cause to be ashamed that so inoffensive,
inconspicuous, respectable a person had once been asked to stand to them
in the dignified relation of aunt. The public vehemently combated Mrs.
Betty's verdict, in vain; they were forced to lament during twice nine
days their vanished favourite,