"
Mrs. Swan gasped. "Our Joey!" she exclaimed; "and what will Mr. Mortimer
think?"
Valentine sat, composed, and almost impassive.
"You think she likes our boy, sir?"
"I am sure of it."
"How is he ever to maintain her as she'll expect!"
"She has a thousand pounds of her own; that will help him. I have
written to him that he must settle it on her."
Here Mrs. Swan's added surprise made her thoughtful.
"She is a good, modest, virtuous young lady, as I've heerd," said Swan,
looking pointedly at Valentine, as if to admonish-him that the mother
would like to have this confirmed.
"Yes," answered Valentine, with great decision; "she is all that and
more, she is very affectionate, and has a good temper."
"Well," said Swan, drawing a deep breath, "all I have to observe is,
that wives were made afore coats of mail, though coats of female would
be more to the purpose here" (he meant coats of arms), "and," continued
the gardener, with that chivalrous feeling which lies at the very core
of gentlemanhood, "I'm not going to disparage my son, my Joey, that
would be to disparage her _chice_.
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