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But you shall not
discourage me from protecting you, though you deny me the rose which
was to have been my emblem. Every woman is a rose, madam, as says
the poet Dunbar--
"'Sweet rose of vertew and of gentilness,
Richest in bonty and in bewty clear
And every vertew that is werrit dear,
Except only that ye are merciless--"
"You take me? 'Merciless,' madam?"
"I don't understand a word," said she, puzzled and angry.
"He was a Scotsman: and you find it a far cry to Loch Awe.
Well, well--to resume--
"'Into your garth this day I did pursue--'"
"by 'garth' meaning 'garden': a good word, and why the devil it
should be obsolescent is more than I can tell you--"
But here my father cut him short. "My good Mrs. Ede," said he,
turning to the woman, "I believe this young man intended no harm to
you and very little to your garden. You are quits with him at any
rate. Take this shilling, step inside, and choose him a fair red
rose for the price and also in token of your forgiveness, while he
picks up his hat which is lying yonder in the dust.


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