CHAPTER XXII.
How Moll and Mr. Godwin come together and declare their hearts' passion, and how I carry these tidings to Dawson.
"What!" cries Moll, starting to her feet. "He whom I have treated thus is—" and here she checked herself, as if recoiling (and for the first time) from false pretence in a matter so near her heart.
"He is your cousin, Richard Godwin," says the wise woman. "Simon knew this from the first; for there were letters showing it in the pocket-book he found after the struggle in the park; but for his own ends he kept that knowledge secret, until it fitted his ends to speak. Why your cousin did not reveal himself to you may be more readily conceived by you than 'twas by me."
"Why, 'tis clear enough," says Moll. "Pressed by his necessities, he came hither to claim assistance of his kinsman; but finding he was dead and none here but me, his pride did shrink from begging of a mere maid that which he might with justice have demanded from a man. And then, for shame at being handled like a rogue—"
Surely there is something in the blood of a gentleman that tempers his spirit to a degree scarcely to be comprehended by men of meaner birth, thinks I.
"When did Simon urge him to dispute my rights?" asks Moll.
"On Sunday—in the wood out there. I knew by his
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