« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
on the green sides of the hills, been lying deep keep the thocht away that it was he wha helped among their dark feet in the lake, it would not those poor creatures to their end.” She then have shown a ripple the more.
proceeded earnestly to exculpate her husband, asMiss Campbell, meanwhile, wandered slowly suring Miss Campbell that in spite of the heavy on, and though apparently unmindful of the beau- wind and the entangled rope, all might even yet ty of the scene, she was evidently soothed by its have been well if the gentleman had kept his seat. influence. All that dreary night long had she" But I just tell him that there's Ane above, strongcried unto God in ceaseless prayer, and felt that er than the wind, who sank them in the lake, and without His help in her heart, and His word on could have raised them from it, but it was no His her lips, she had been but as a strengthless babe be- pleasure. The puir leddy would ha' been nane fore the sight of that anguish. But here beneath the happier if Andrew had been ta'en as well, and His own heavens her communings were freer; I and the bairns muckle the waur.” Then obher soul seemed not so much to need Him below, serving where Miss Campbell stood, she continued, as to rise to Him above; and the solemn dejection in a voice of much emotion, “ Ah! I mind them upon a very careworn but sweet face, became less weel as they came awa' down here; the bairnie painful, but perhaps more touching. In her wan- was playing by as Andrew loosened the boat-the derings she had now left the hotel to her left sweet bairnie! so happy and thochtless as he gaed hand, the boatman's clay cottage was just above, in his beautiful claes I see him non!” and the and below a liule rough pier of stones, 10 an iron poor woman wiped her eyes. ** But there's ring in one of which the boat was usually attached. something ye'll like to see. Jeanie! gang awa' She had stood on that self-same spot the day be- up, and bring the little bonnet that hangs on the fore and watched Captain H— and his little peg. Andrew went out again with the boat son as they walked down to the pier, summoned the night, and picked it up. But it will no be dry.” the boatman, and launched into the cool, smooth The child returned with a sad token. It was water. She now went down herself, and stood the little fellow's cap; a smart town-made article, with a feeling of awe upon the same stones they with velvet band, and long silk tassel, that tassel had so lately left. The shores were loose and which had been his first vanity, and his mother had shingly, many footsteps were there, but one par-coaxed it smooth as she pulled the peak low down ticularly riveted her gaze. It was tiny in shape and over his fair forehead, and then, fumbling his little light in print, and a whole succession of them fingers into his gloves, had given him a kiss which went off towards the side as if following a butter- she little thought was to be the last ! fly, or attracted by a bright stone. Alas! they “I was coming awa’ up wi' it mysel' but the were the last prints of that liule foot on the shores leddy will no just bear to see it yet.' of this world! Miss Campbell had seen the first “No, not yet,” said Miss Campbell, “ if ever. thunderbolt of misery bursi upon his mother ; she Let me take it. I shall remain with her till bethad borne the sight of her as she lay stunned, and ter friends come here, or she goes to them;" and as she rose frenzied, but that tiny footprint was giving the woman money which she had diffiworse than all, and she burst into a passionate fit culty in making her accept, she possessed herself of tears. She felt as if it were desecration to of the cap and turned away. sweep them away, as if she could have shrined She soon reached the hotel, it was just five them round from the winds and waves, and o'clock, all blinds were down, and there was no thoughtless tread of others; but a thought came sign of life; but one figure was pacing up and to check her. What did it matter how the trace down, and seemed to be watching for her. It was of his little foot, or how the memory of his short Sir Thomas. His sympathy had broken his sleep life, were obliterated from this earth? There was in the morning, though it had not disturbed it at One above who had numbered every hair of his night. He began in his abrupt way:innocent head, and in His presence she humbly * Madam, I have been watching for you. I hoped both father and child were now rejoicing. heard you leave the house. Madam, I feel almost
She was just turning away when the sound of ashamed to lift up my eyes to you ;' whilst we have steps approached, and the boatman's wife came all been wishing and talking, you alone have been up. Her features were coarse and her frame acting. We are all obliged 10 you madam ; there gaunt, as we have said, but she was no longer the is not a creature here with a heart in them to termagant of the day before, nor was she ever so. whom you have not given comfort !" But the lower classes in the most civilized lands, Miss Campbell tried to escape from the honest are often, both in joy and grief, an enigma to overflowings of the old man's feelings. those above them ; if nature, rare alike in all “ You have only done what you liked: very ranks, speak not for them, they have no conven- true, madam. It is choking work having to pity tional imitation to put in her place. The feeling without knowing how to help; but I would sovner of intense suspense was new to her, and the vio- give ten thousand pounds than see what you have lence she had assumed had been the awkwardness seen. I would do anything for the poor creature, which, under nany eyes, knew not otherwise how anything, but I could not look at her.” He then to express or conceal; but she had sound Scotch told her that his men had been sent with the earlisense, and a tender woman's heart, and spoke est dawn to different points of the lake, but as yet them both now truly, if not gracefully.
without finding any traces of the late fatal acci“ Ye 'll be frae the hotel, yonder ?" she said ; dent; and then his eyes fell upon the cap in Miss
can ye tell me how the pair leddy has rested? Campbell's hand, and he at once guessed the hisI was up mysel' to the house, and they tell’t me tory. • Picked up last evening, you say-sad, they could hear her greeting !”
sad-a dreadful thing !" and his eyes filling more Miss Campbell told her in a few words what than it was convenient to hold, he turned away, the reader knows, and asked for her husband. blew his nose, took a short turn, and coming back
"Oh! he's weel enough in body, but sair dis- again continued, “ But tell me how has she rested? nieted in mind. No that he's unmindfu' of the what has she taken? You must not let her weep ercy of the Lord to himsel', but he can no just too much !”
“Let her weep!” said Miss Campbell, “I practice could have helped him here if he had not wish I could bid her. She has not shed a tear been. He heard the whole sad history, felt the yet, and mind and body alike want it. I left her throbbing pulse, saw the flush on the face, and lying back quiet in an arm-chair, but I fear this wide open eyes, which now seemed scarcely to quiet is worse than what has gone before !" notice anything. He took Miss Campbell into
“God bless my heart!” said Sir Thomas, his another room, and said that the patient must be eyes now running over without control. "God instantly roused, and then bled if necessary. bless my heart! this is sad work. Not that I “ But the first you can undertake better than I, ever wished a woman to cry before in my life, if madam.” He looked round. “Is there no little she could help it. Poor thing! poor thing! I'll object which would recall ?-nothing you could send for a medical man: the nearest is fifteen bring before her sight? You understand me?” iniles off!"
Indeed Miss Campbell did. She had not sat by “I think it will be necessary. I am now going that bedside for the last three hours without feelback to her room."
ing and fearing that this was necessary; but, at “ Well, ma’am, I won't detain you longer, but the same time, she would rather have cut off her don't keep all the good to yourself. Let me own hand than undertaken it. She hesitatedknow if there is anything that I, or my men, or," but for a moment, and then whispered something the old gentleman hesitated, “my money, madam, to Sir Thomas. can do, only don't ask me to see her;" and so “God bless my heart !” said he," who would they each went the way-Sir Thomas to the have thought of it? Yes. I know it stables to send off man and horse, and Miss cry like a child.” Campbell to the chamber of mourning.
And then he repeated her proposition to the She started as she entered; the blind was medical man, who gave immediate assent, and she drawn up, and, leaning against the shutter, in left the room. In a few minutes she entered that apparent composure, stood Mrs. H- That of Mrs. H— with the little boy's cap in her composure was dreadful; it was the calm of hand, placed it in a conspicuous position before intense agitation, the silence of boiling heat, the the bed, and then seated herself with a quick, immovability of an object in the most rapid mo- nervous motion by the bedside. It was a horrid tion. The light was full upon her, showed cheek pause, like thai which precedes a cruel operation, and forehead flushed, and veins bursting on the where you have taken upon yourself the second small hands. Miss Campbell approached with degree of suffering—that of witnessing it. The trembling Jimbs.
cap lay there on the small stone mantelpiece, " Where is the servant?"
with its long, drabbled, weeping tassel, like a "I did not want her.”
funeral emblem. It was not many minutes before " Will you not rest?"!
it caught those eyes for which it was intended. “ I cannot!"
A suppressed exclamation broke from her; sbe Miss Campbell was weary and worn out; the flew from the bed, looked at Miss Campbell one picture before her was so terrible, she sunk on instant in intense inquiry, and the next had the the nearest chair in an agony of tears.
cap in her hands. The touch of that wet object Without changing her position, Mrs. H seemed to dissolve the spell; her whole frame turned her head, and said gently, “Oh, do not trembled with sudden relaxation. She sank, half cry so! it is I who ought to cry, but my heart is kneeling, on the floor, and tears spouted from her as dry as my eyes, and my head is su tight, and I eyes. No biessed rain from heaven to faruished cannot think for its aching ; I cannot think, I can- earth was ever more welcome. Tears, did we not understand, I cannot remember, I don't even say? Torrents! Those eyes, late so hot and know your name, then why should this be true? dry, were as two arteries of the soul suddenly It is I who am ill, they are well, but they never opened. What a misery that had been which had were so long from me before.” Then coming for- sealed them up! They streamed over her face, ward, her face working, and her breath held tightly, blinding her riveted gaze, falling on her hands, on as if a scream were pressing behind, “ Tell me, the cap, on the floor. Meanwhile the much-to-beshe said, “ tell me-my husband and child _” pitied sharer of her sorrow knelt by her side, her she tried hard to articulate, but the words were lost whole frame scarcely less unnerved than that she in a frightful contortion. Miss Campbell mastered sought to support, uttering broken ejaculations herself, she saw that the rack of mental torture and prayers, and joining ber tears to those which was strained to the utmost. Neither could bear flowed so passionately. But she had a gentle and this much longer. She almost feared resistance, meek spirit to deal with. Mrs. H-- crossed but she felt there was one way to which the suf- her hands over the cap and bowed her head. ferer would respond,
Thus she continued a minute, and then turning, “I am weary and tired,” she said, “ weary still on her knees, she laid her head on her comwith staying up with you all night. If you will panion's shoulder. lie down, I will soon come and lie by your side.” “ Help me up,” she said, “ for I am without
Poor Mrs. H~ said nothing, but let herself strength.” And all weak, trembling, and sob-. be laid upon the bed.
bing, she allowed herself to be undressed and put, Three mortal hours passed, she was burnt with to bed. a fever which only her own tears could quench ; Miss Campbell lay down in the same room.. and those wide-open, dry eyes were fearful to see. She listened till the quivering, catching sobs had! A knock came to the door, " How is she now?" given place to deep-drawn sighs, and these again. said Sir Thomas' voice. “The doctor is here: to disturbed breathings, and then both slept the you look as if you wanted him yourself. I'll sleep of utter exhaustion, and Miss Campbell,, bring him up."
fortunately, knew not when the mourner awoke: The medical man entered. Such a case had from it. not occurred in his small country practice before, Oh, the dreary first-fruits of excessive sorrow !! but he was a sensible and a kind man, and no The first days of a stricken heart, passed through,,
writhed through, ground through, we scarcely | not, and to which she was only slowly and painknow or remember how, before the knowledge of fully to be inured, if ever. In these times she the bereavement has become habitual-while it is would love to tell Catherine--what Catherine still struggle and not endurance the same cease- most loved to hear-how that her lost husband Jess recoil from the same ever-recurring shock. was both a believer and a doer of Christ's holy It was a blessing that she was ill, very ill; the word, and that her lost child had learned at her body shared something of the weight at first. knee what she herself had chiefly learned from his
Let no one, untried by such extremity, here lift father. For she had been brought up in ignorance the word or look of deprecation. Let there not and indifference to religious truths, and the greatbe a thought of what she ought to have done, or est happiness of her life had commenced that what they would have done. God's love is great, knowledge, which its greatest sorrow was now 10 and a Christian's faith is strong, but when have complete. the first encounters between old joys and new sor “I have been such a happy woman,” she would rows been otherwise than fierce ? From time to say, " that I have pitied others less blessed, though time a few intervals of heavenly composure, won- I trust they have not envied me.” And then would derful and gracious to the sufferer, may be per- follow sigh on sigh and tear on tear, and again her mitted, and even the dim light of future peace soul writhed beneath the agony of that implacable discerned in the distance; but, in a moment, the mental spasm. gauntlet of defiance is thrown again-no matter Sometimes the mourner would appear to lose, what-an old look, an old word, which comes instead of gaining ground, and would own with rushing unbidden over the soul, and dreadful feel- depression, and even with shame, her fears that ings rise again only to spend themselves by their she was becoming more and more the sport of unown violence. It always seems to us as if sorrow governable feeling. “My sorrow is sharp enough." had a nature of its own, independent of that she would say, “ but it is a still sharper pang when whereon it has fallen, and sometimes strangely at I feel I am not doing my duty under it. It is not variance with it-scorching the gentle, melting thus that he would have had me act." And her the passionate, dignifying the weak, and prostrat- kind companion, always at hand to give syınpathy ing the strong-and showing the real nature, or comfort, would bid her not exact or expect anyhabits, or principles of the mind, only in those thing from herself, but to cast all upon God, redefences it raises up during the intervals of relief. minding her in words of tenderness that her soul With Mrs. H these defences were reared on was as a sick child, and that strength would not the only sure base, and though the storm would be required until strength was vouchsafed. sweep down her bulwarks, and cover all over " Strength,” said the mourner, no more strength with the furious tide of grief, yet the foundation or health for me." And Miss Campbell would was left to cling to, and every renewal added whisper that, though “ weariness endureth for a some object to its strength.
night, joy comes in the morning.” Or she would Three days were spent thus, but the fourth she be silent, for she knew, as most women do, alike was better, and on Miss Campbell's approaching how to soothe and when to humor. her bedside, she drew ber to her, and, putting her It was a beautiful and a moving sight to see two arms round her neck, imprinted a calm and solemn beings thus riveted together in the exercise and kiss upon her cheek.
receipt of the tenderest and most intimate feelings, “Oh! what can I ever do for you, dear friend who had never known of each other's existence and comforter ? God, who has sent you to me in till the moment that made the one dependent and my utmost need, He alone can reward you. I the other indispensable. All the shades and don't even know your name ; but that matters not, grades of conventional and natural acquaintanceI know your heart. Now you may tell me all— ship, all the gradual insight into mutual charall ; before, I felt as if I could neither know nor acter, and the gradual growth into mutual trust, forget what had happened, before, it was as if which is so sweet to look back upon from the high God had withdrawn. His countenance; but now ground of friendship, were lost to them ; but it He is gracious, He has heard your prayers.” mattered not, where they were together, the one ad
And then, with the avidity of fresh, hungry sor- mitted into the sanctuary of sorrow, the other sharrow, she besought Miss Campbell to tell her all ing in the fulness of love, with no reminiscence in she knew; she besought and would not be denied, common but one, and that sufficient to bind them for sorrow has royal authority, its requests are together for life. commands. So, with the hand of each locked Meanwhile the friend without was also unremittogether, and the eyes of each averted, they sat ting in his way. He crossed not her threshold in questioning and answering in disjointed sentences person, nor would have done so for the world, but till the whole sad tale was told. Then, anxious to his thoughts were always reaching Mrs. Hin Jurn a subject which could not be banished, Miss some kind form. Every delicate dainty that money Campbell spoke of the many hearts that had bled, could procure—beautiful fruits and flowers which and the many prayers that had ascended for her, had scarce entered this valley before-everything and told her of that kind old man who had thought, that could tempt the languid appetite or divert the acted, and grieved for her like a father.
weary eye was in turn thought of, and each handed “God bless him—God bless them all ; but chiefly in with a kind heart, hearty inquiry, till the mourner you, my sister. I want no other name."
listened with pleasure for the step and voice. Nor " Call ine Catherine," said the faithful com was Miss Campbell forgotten ; all the brief snatches panion.
of air and exercise she enjoyed were in his coinPassionate bu of grief would ucceed such pany, and often did he insist on her coming out conversations ; nevertheless they were renewed for a short walk or drive when the persuasions of again and again, for, like all sufferers from severe Mrs. H— had failed to induce her to leave a bereavements, her heart needed to create a world room where she was the only joy. But now a fresh for itself, where its loved ones still were, as a object attracted Sir Thomas activity, for after defence against that outer one where they were many days the earthly remains of one of the suf
ferers was thrown up. It was the body of the just buried—who had gone on from sin to sin, liule boy. Sir Thomas directed all that was ne- hardening his own heart, and wringing those of cessary to be done, and having informed Miss others, till none but a mother's love remained to Campbell, the two friends, each strange to the him, and that he outraged. She told, in short, so other, and bound together by the interest in one much of the sad realties of life, in which, if there equally strange to both, went out together up the was not more woe, there was less comfort, that hill above the hotel, and were gone longer than Mrs. H - acknowledged in her heart that such usual. The next day the intelligence was com- griefs had indeed been unendurable, and returned municated to Mrs. H who received it calmly, with something like comfort to the undisturbed but added, “ I could have wished them both to have sanctity of her own. rested together; but God's will be done. I ought About this time a summons came which required not to think of them as on the earth."
Sir Thomas to quit the valley in which these The grave of little Harry H was dug far scenes had been occurring. Mrs. H— could from the burial-ground of his fathers, and strangers have seen him, and almost longed to see him ; but followed him to it; but though there were no he shrunk from her, fearing no longer her sorrow familiar faces among those who stood round, there so much as her gratitude. were no cold ones; and when Sir Thomas, as chief “ Tell her I love her," he said, in his abrupt mourner, threw the earth upon the lowered coffin, way, “ and always shall; but I can't see her-at warm tears fell upon it also. Miss Campbell had least, not yet." Then explaining to Miss Campwatched the procession from the window, and told bell all the little arrangements for the continuation how good the old man walked behind the minister, of the mourner's comfort, which his absence the boatman and his wife followed him, and how might interrupt, he authorized her to dispose of a long train succeeded, all pious and reverential in his servants, his horses, and everything that betheir bearing, with that air of manly decorum longed to him, and finally put into her hands a which the Scotch peasantry conspicuously show small packet directed to Mrs. H-, with instrucon such occasions. And she who lay on a bed tions when to give it. He had ascertained that of sorrow and weakness blessed them through her Mrs. H— was wealthy, and that her great tears, and felt that her child's funeral was not afflictions entailed no minor privations. lonely.
you, my dear, are poor; at least, I hope so, From this time the mourner visibly mended. for I could not be happy unless I were of service The funeral and the intelligence that preceded it to you. I am just as much obliged to you as Mrs. had insensib given her that change of the same H is. Mind, you have promised to write to theme, the want of which had been so much felt at me and to apply to me without reserve. No kindfirst. She had now taken up her burden, and, for ness, no honor-nonsense. It is I who honor the dear sakes of those for whom she bore it, it you above every creature I know, but I would not became almost sweet to her. She was not wor- be a woman for the world ; at least the truth is I shipping her sorrow as an idol, but cherishing it could not.” And so he turned hastily away. as a friend. Meanwhile she had received many And now the time approached when she, who kind visits from the minister who had buried her had entered this valley a happy wife and mother, child, and had listened to his exhortations with was to leave it widowed and childless, a sorrowhumility and gratitude ; but his words were felt as ing and heavy-hearted woman, but not an unhappy admonitions, Catherine's as comfort. To her, now She had but few near relations, and those dearer and dearer, every day she would confess scattered in distant lands : but there were friends aloud the secret changes of her heart; how at one who would break the first desolation of her former time the world looked all black and dreary before home, and Catherine had promised to bear her her, how at another she seemed already to live in company till she had committed her into their a brighter one beyond ; how one day life was a hands. burden she knew not how to bear, and another how It was a lovely evening, the one before their dethe bitterness of death seemed already past. Then parture; Mrs. H— was clad for the first time in with true Christian politeness she would lament all that betokened her to be a mourner; but, as over the selfishness of her grief, and ask where Catherine looked from the black habiliments to Miss Campbell had learned to know that feeling that pale face, she felt that there was the deepest which she felt henceforth was to be the only solace mourning of all. Slowly the widow passed of her life—viz., the deep, deep sympathy for through that side-door we have mentioned, and others. And Catherine would tell her, with that stood once more under God's heaven. Neither care-worn look which confirmed she said, how had mentioned to the other the errand on which she had been sorely tried, not by the death of those they were bound, but both felt that there was but she loved, but by what was worse—their suffer- one. Slowly and feebly she mounted the gentle ings and their sins. How she had been laden with slope, and often she stopped, for it was more than those misfortunes which wound most and teach weakness or fatigue that made her breath fail. least, and which, although coming equally from The way was beautiful, close to the rocky bed and the hand of God, torment you with the iaca that, leafy sides of that sweetest of all sweet things in the but for the wickedness or weakness of some human natural world, a Scotch burn. And now they turnagent, they need never have been ; till she had ed, for the rich strip of grass, winding among bush felt, wrongly no doubt, that she could have better and rock, which they had been following as a paih, borne those on which the stamp of the Divine Will here spread itself out in a level shelf of turf, where was more legibly impressed. She told her how the burn ran smoother, the bushes grew higher, and the sting of sorrow, like that of death, is sin ; how where the hill started upward again in bolder comparatively light it was to see those you love lines. Here there was a fresh covered grave. dead, dying, crippled, maniacs, victims, in short, The widow knelt by it, while Catherine stood of any evil, rather than victims of evil itself. back. Long was that head bowed, first in anShe spoke of a heart-broken sister and of a hard-guish, and then in submission, and then she turned hearted brother; of a son—an only son, like him her face toward the lake, on which she had not
looked since that fatal day, and gazed steadily | ful has happened to you-more fool she to care a upon it. The child lay in his narrow bed at her straw about you! This is all nothing. Oh no! feet, but the father had a wider one far beneath. when a woman's once married she's a slaveCatherine now approached and was folded in a worse than a slave—and must bear it all! silent embrace; then she gave her that small And what you men can find to talk about I packet which Sir Thomas had left, and begged can't think! Instead of a man sitting every her to open it upon the spot. It was a legal deed, night at home with his wife, and going to bed at a making over to Mary H in free gift, the Christian hour-going to a club, to meet a set of ground on which she stood—a broad strip froin the people who don't care a button for him, it's montip of the hill to the waters of the lake. The strous! What do you say? You only go once a widow's tears rained fast upon it.
week? That's nothing at all to do with it: you “ Both God and man are very good to me, might as well go every night; and I dare say she said ; “I am lonely, but not forsaken. But, you will soon. But if you do you may get in as Catherine, it is you to whom I must speak. I you can: I won't sit up for you, I can tell you. have tried to speak before, but never felt I could My health 's being destroyed night after night,
Oh, Catherine! stay with me-live and oh don't say it's only once a week; I tell with me ; let us never be parted. God gave you you, that's nothing to do with it; if you had any to me when He took all else beside; He has not eyes, you would see how ill I am; but you're no done it for nought. I can bear to return to my eyes for anybody belonging to you : oh no! your lonely home if you will share it- I can bear to see eyes are for people out of doors. It's very well this valley, this grave again, if you are with me. for you to call me a foolish aggravating woman! I am not afraid of tying your cheerfulness to my I should like to see the woman who'd sit up for sorrow; 1 feel that I am under a calamity, but I you as I do. You didn't want me to sit up? feel also that I am under no curse—you will help Yes, yes; that's your thanks>that is your gratito make it a blessing. Oh, complete your sacred tude : I'm to ruin my health and to be abused for work; give me years to requite to you your last it. Nice principles you've got at that club, Mr. few days to me. You have none who need you Caudle! more-none who love you more. Oh! follow But there's one comfort-one great comfort; me; here, on my child's grave, I humbly entreat it can't last long; I'm sinking- I feel it, though you, follow me.
I never say anything about it—but I know my Catherine trembled; she stood silent a minute, own feelings, and I say it can't last long. And and then, with a low, firm voice, replied, “ Here, then I should like to know who'll sit up for you! on your child's grave, I promise you. Your peo- Then I should like to know how your second wife ple shall be my people, and your God my God.”'\—what do you say? You'll never be troubled with She kept her promise, and never repented it. another ? Troubled, indeed! I never troubled
you, Caudle. No; it 's you who've troubled me ;
and you know it; though, like a foolish woman, From Punch.
I've borne it all, and never said a word about it.
But it can't last-that's one blessing ! MR. CAUDLE, HAVING COME HOME A LITTLE LATE,
Oh, if a woman could only know what she 'd have to suffer, before she was married-Don't tell
me you want to go to sleep! if you want to go to On my word, Mr. Caudle, I think it a waste of sleep, you should come home at proper hours ! time to come to bed at all now! The cocks will It's time to get up, for what I know, now. be crowing in a minute. Keeping people up till Should n't wonder if you hear the milk in five minpast twelve. Oh yes ! you 're thought a man of utes—there's the sparrows up already; yes, I say very fine feelings out of doors, I dare say! It's a the sparrows; and, Caudle, you ought to blush to pity you have n't a little feeling for those belong- hear 'em. You don't hear 'em? Ha! you won't ing to you at home. A nice hour to keep people hear 'em, you mean: I hear 'em. No, Mr. Cauout of their beds! Why did I sil up then? Be- dle, it isn't the wind whistling in the key-hole ; cause I chose to sit up—but that's my thanks. I'm not quite foolish, though you may think so. No, it's no use your talking, Caudle; I never will I hope I know wind from a sparrow! let the girl sit up for you, and there's an end. Ha, when I think what a man you were beWhat do you say? Why does she sit up with me fore we were married ! But you 're now another then? That's quite a different matter; you don't person-quite an altered creature.
But I suppose suppose I'm going to sit up alone, do you? you ’re all alike—I dare say, every poor woman's What do you say? What's the use of two silting troubled and put upon, though I should hope not up? That's my business. No, Caudle, it's no so much as I am. Indeed, I should hope not! such thing. I don't sit up because I may have the Going and staying out, andpleasure of talking about it; and you 're an un What! You'll have a key? Will you ? Not grateful, unfeeling creature, to say so. I sit up while I'm alive, Mr. Caudle. I'm not going to because I choose it; and if you don't come home bed with the door upon the latch for you or the all the night long-and 't will soon come to that, best man breathing. You won't have a latchI've no doubt-still, I'll never go to bed, so don't you'll have a Chubb's lock ? Will you? I'll have think it.
no Chubb here, I can tell you. What do you Oh, yes! the time runs away very pleasantly say? You'll have the lock put on to-morrow? with you men at your clubs-selfish creatures? Well try it; that's all I say, Caudle, try it. I You can laugh and sing, and tell stories, and never won't let you put me in a passion ; but all I say think of the clock; never think there's such a is—try it. person as a wife belonging to you. It's nothing A respectable thing, that, for a married man to you that a poor woman 's sitting up and telling to carry about with him-a street door key! the minutes, and seeing all sorts of things in the That tells a tale, I think. A nice thing for the fire-and sometimes thinking that something dread- I father of a family! A key! What, to let your
HE WILL HAVE
DECLARES THAT HENCEFORTH