watching you, each severally desiring you as a match for her daughter. But be not hasty in your choice, let not the eye alone fix it, but let beauty be accompanied with high birth and large possessions, and thus you will not fail to attain the honour of being a Lord of the Council.’”
Poor Meta’s woes were, alas! consummated, when she heard the report that Francis was employed in procuring the most splendid furniture that was to be had for his house, in order to prepare it for the reception of a rich bride, who was expected daily from Antwerp. All hope in the constancy of her lover now forsook the breast of Meta, and she grieved not only on her own, but on her beloved mother’s account. Whether the poor girl was really so indifferent in her choice of viands, as to have made her satisfied with salt and bread, as the wife of Francis, is a little problematical, but for her worthy parent’s sake, she anticipated with fond delight that day, when both taste and smell would be regaled with six dishes at least on the table. On one occasion, while musing in melancholy sadness on the faithlessness of man, Meta turning towards the door suddenly let fall both spindle and distaff, for she beheld her lover enter.
Mother Briggitta now regarded Neighbour Francis
