Joey made his obeisance, and departed as if he was frightened, Miss
Melissa watched him: at last she thought, "Tinker or no tinker? that is
the question. No tinker, for a cool hundred, as my father would say;
for, no tinker's boy, no tinker; and that is no tinker's boy. How
clever of him to say that the letter was given him by a gentleman! Now
I can send to him to interrogate him, and have an interview without any
offence to my feelings; and if he is disguised, as I feel confident that
he is, I shall soon discover it."
Miss Melissa Mathews did not sleep that night; and at the time appointed
she was sitting on the bench, with all the assumed dignity of a
newly-made magistrate. Spikeman and Joey were not long before they made
their appearance. Spikeman was particularly clean and neat, although he
took care to wear the outward appearance of a tinker; his hands were, by
continual washing in hot water, very white, and he had paid every
attention to his person, except in wearing his rough and sullied
clothes.
"My boy tells me, miss, that you wish to speak to me," said Spikeman,
assuming the air of a vulgar man.
"I did, friend," said Melissa, after looking at Spikeman for a few
minutes; "a letter has been brought here clandestinely, and your boy
confesses that he received it from you; now, I wish to know how you came
by it."
"Boy, go away to a distance," said Spikeman, very angrily; "if you can't
keep one secret, at all events you shall not hear any more."
Joey retreated, as had been arranged between them.
"Well, madam, or miss (I suppose miss)," said Spikeman, "that letter was
written by a gentleman that loves the very ground you tread upon."
"And he requested it to be delivered to me?"
"He did, miss; and if you knew, as I do, how he loves you, you would not
be surprised at his taking so bold a step."
"I am surprised at your taking so bold a step, tinker, as to send it by
your boy."
"It was a long while before I would venture, miss; but when he had told
me what he did, I really could not help doing so; for I pitied him, and
so would you, if you knew all."
"And pray what did he tell you?"
"He told me, miss," said Spikeman, who had gradually assumed his own
manner of speaking, "that he had ever rejected the thoughts of
matrimony--that he rose up every morning thanking Heaven that he was
free and independent--that he had scorned the idea of ever being
captivated with the charms of a woman; but that one day he had by chance
passed down this road, and had heard you singing as you were coming down
to repose on this bench. Captivated by your voice, curiosity induced
him to conceal himself in the copse behind us, and from thence he had a
view of your person: nay, miss he told me more, that he had played the
eaves-dropper, and heard all your conversation, free and unconstrained
as it was from the supposition that you were alone; he heard you express
your sentiments and opinions, and finding that there was on this earth
what, in his scepticism, he thought never to exist--youth, beauty,
talent, principle, and family, all united in one person--he had bowed at
the shrine, and had become a silent and unseen worshipper."
Spikeman stopped speaking.
"Then it appears that this gentleman, as you style him, has been guilty
of the ungentlemanly practice of listening to private conversation--no
very great recommendation."
"Such was not his intention at first; he was seduced to it by you. Do
not blame him for that--now that I have seen you, I cannot; but, miss,
he told me more. He said that he felt that he was unworthy of you, and
had not a competence to offer you, even if he could obtain your favour;
that he discovered that there was a cause which prevented his gaining an
introduction to your family; in fact, that he was hopeless and
despairing. He had hovered near you for a long time, for he could not
leave the air you breathed; and, at last, that he had resolved to set
his life upon the die and stake the hazard. Could I refuse him, miss?
He is of an old family, but not wealthy; he is a gentleman by birth and
education, and therefore I did not think I was doing so very wrong in
giving him the chance, trifling as it might be. I beg your pardon,
madam, if I have offended; and any message you may have to deliver to
him, harsh as it may be--nay, even if it should be his death--it shall
be faithfully and truly delivered."
"When shall you see him, Master Tinker?" said Melissa, very gravely.
"In a week he will be here, he said, not before."
"Considering he is so much in love, he takes his time," replied Melissa.
"Well, Master Tinker, you may tell him from me, that I've no answer to
give him. It is quite ridiculous, as well as highly improper, that I
should receive a letter or answer one from a person whom I never saw. I
admit his letter to be respectful, or I should have sent a much harsher
message."
"Your commands shall be obeyed, miss; that is, if you cannot be
persuaded to see him for one minute."
"Most certainly not; I see no gentleman who is not received at my
father's house, and properly presented to me. It may be the custom
among people in your station of life, Master Tinker, but not in mine;
and as for yourself, I recommend you not to attempt to bring another
letter."
"I must request your pardon for my fault, miss; may I ask, after I have
seen the poor young gentleman, am I to report to you what takes place?"
"Yes, if it is to assure me that I shall be no more troubled with his
addresses."
"You shall be obeyed, miss," continued Spikeman; then, changing his tone
and air, he said, "I beg your pardon, have you any knives or scissors to
grind?"
"No," replied Melissa, jumping up from her seat, and walking towards the
house to conceal her mirth. Shortly afterwards she turned round to look
if Spikeman was gone; he had remained near the seat, with his eyes
following her footsteps. "I could love that man," thought Melissa, as
she walked on. "What an eye he has, and what eloquence; I shall run
away with a tinker I do believe; but it is my destiny. Why does he say
a week--a whole week? But how easy to see through his disguise! He had
the stamp of a gentleman upon him. Dear me, I wonder how this is to
end! I must not tell Araminta yet; she would be fidgeted out of her
wits! How foolish of me! I quite forgot to ask the name of this
_gentleman_. I'll not forget it next time."