conscience stirred within me so,--that I could not help peeping through
the key-hole.

_Sid_. Ha, ha, ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the
key-hole, Mrs. Betty?

_Bet_. It did indeed, sir:--and there I saw my young master upon his
knees--lord bless us--and what do you think he was doing?--kissing her
hand as if he would eat it--and protesting--and assuring her--he knew that
you, sir, would consent to the match--and then the tears ran down her
cheeks as fast--

_Sid._ Ay!

_Bet._ They did indeed. I would not tell your reverence a lie for the
world.

_Sid_. I believe it, Mrs. Betty--and what did Constantia say to all this?

_Bet_. O!--O! she is sly enough; she looks as if butter would not melt in
her mouth; but all is not gold that glitters; smooth water, you know, sir,
runs deepest:--I am sorry my young master makes such a fool of himself--
but--um!--take my word for it, he is not the man,--for though she looks as
modest as a maid at a christening--[_hesitating._] yet--ah!--when
sweethearts meet--in the dusk of the evening--and stay together a whole
hour--in the dark grove--and embrace--and kiss--and weep at parting,--why
then you know, sir, it is easy to guess all the rest.

_Sid._ Why did Constantia meet any body in this manner?