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"My father is as grateful to you as I am I'm sure that he is—for I heard him when at prayer call down blessings on your head. What can he do for you? I begged Oswald Partridge to bring you here that I might find out. Oh, Sir, do pray let me know how we can show our gratitude by something more than words."
"You have shown it already, Mistress Patience," replied Edward, "have you not honoured a poor forester with your hand in friendship, and even admitted him to sit down before you?"
"He who has preserved my life at the risk of his own becomes to me as a brother—at least I feel as a sister towards him: a debt is still a debt, whether indebted to a king or to a—"
"Forester, Mistress Patience, that is the real word that you should not have hesitated to have used: do you imagine that I am ashamed of my calling?"
"To tell you candidly the truth, then," replied Patience, "I cannot believe that you are what you profess to be. I mean to say, that although a forester now, you were never brought up as such. My father has an opinion allied to mine."
"I thank you both for your good opinion of me, but I fear that I cannot raise myself above the condition of a forester; nay, from your father's coming down here, and the new regulations, I have every chance of sinking down to the lower grade of a deer-stealer and poacher; indeed, had it not been that I had my gun with me, I should have been seized as such this very day as I came over."
"But you were not shooting the deer, were you, Sir?" inquired Patience.
"No, I was not; nor have I killed any since last I saw you."
"I am glad that I can say that to my father," replied Patience, "it will much please him. He said to me that he thought you capable of much higher employment than any that could be offered here, and only wished to know what you would accept. He has interest—great interest—although just now at variance with the rulers of this country, on account of the—"
