_Distinction between would & should_
DORCAS, who continued very ill all this Day, began thereafter to amend, and
was able to take the sole Night-watch. But the Watchman would not let me
go forth, though he would send my Messages to _Violet_, and give me the
Packages of Clothing and so forth that _Violet_ sent me. However, one
Day a Doctor called, and gave as his Reason for not coming before, that
he had been ill himself. And he said both my Patients were in such a
fair Way of Recovery, that he thought in another Week I might leave the
House without Danger to myself or others, only attending to the proper
Fumigations.
Master _Blower_ now sat up in his easy Chair, half wakeful, half dozing,
for he was too weak to read much. But he liked me to read to him, which
I did for Hours together; and the Subject-matter of the Book often gave
Rise to much pleasant Talk, insomuch that I began to be secretly and
selfishly sorry that the Time was so near at Hand when he would be well
enough to do without me.
At other Times I got him to talk to me about the Country-house of his
Brother, the Squire, wherein he himself had been born, and had spent all
his boyish Days. And when I heard him tell about the little ivy-covered
Church, and the pretty Churchyard planted with Flowers, and the rustic
Congregation in their red Cloaks and white Frocks, and the Village Choir
with their Pipes and Rebecks, it seemed to me I would rather, a thousand
Times, be Vicar or even Curate of such a Place as that than have ever
such a large, grand Living in _Whitechapel_. And so I told him.
At other Times I sat sewing quite silent by the Window, leaving him to
doze if he could; and sometimes I could see without looking up, that his
Eye would rest on me for a good While at a Time. I did not care a Pin
about it, and made as though I took no Notice.
“_Cherry_,” says he, after one of these Ruminations, “what have the Men
been about that you have never got married?”
I plucked up my Spirit on this; and, “Sir,” said I, “if you can tell me
of any suitable Answer I can possibly make to such a Question as that,
I’ll be much obliged to you for it, and will make Use of it!”
“Well!” says he, “it _was_ a queer Question ... only, the Thing seems so
wonderful to me! Such a pretty Girl as you were when I first knew you!”
“Ah, that was a long While ago, Sir,” said I, threading my Needle.
“It was!” said he, decidedly; and then looking at me in an amused Kind
of Way, to see how I took it. “A long While ago, as you say, _Cherry_!
And, do you know, I think exactly the same of you now, that I did then!”
“I am very much obliged to you, Sir,” said I; and went to make him a
Bread-pudding.
Another Time, we fell to talking about the Awfulness of the Visitation,
which, he said, he feared would make no lasting Impression on the
People. And he spoke much about individual Sins helping to bring down
national Chastisements; and individual Intercessions and Supplications
inviting Forgiveness of general Transgressions; quoting _Daniel_, and
_Abraham_, and _Jeremiah_, “Run ye to and fro through the Streets of
_Jerusalem_, and see now and know, and seek in the broad Places thereof,
if ye can find a Man that executeth Judgment, that seeketh the Truth;
and I will pardon it.”
Another Time, feeling weaker than common, he began to despond about
getting down to his Brother the Squire’s. I said, “Dear Sir, if you are
not equal to so long a Journey, you can come, for Change of Air, to your
old Quarters on the Bridge.”
“Ah, _Cherry_,” said he, faintly smiling, “what would Folks say if I did
that?”
“Why, what _should_ they say, Sir?” said I.
“I’m not considering what they _should_ say,” said he; “what they
_would_ say, _Cherry_, would probably be, that I meant to marry you; or
ought to mean it.”
I said I did not suppose they would or could say any such Thing; I being
so long known on the Bridge,—and he of his Years——
“Humph!” said he, “I am but forty-four! To hear you talk, one might
think I was a—” ... I forget what Sort of an Arian he called
himself,—“Do you know what that means, _Cherry_?”
I said, I believed it was some Sort of a Dissenter. On which he laughed
outright; and said it meant sixty or seventy Years of Age, I forget
which.
“And I’m not quite such an old Codger as that,” said he, “so I won’t
accept your kind Invitation, though I thank you heartily for it. But we
must not let our Good be evil spoken of.”
All this was spoken in such a simple, genial, attaching Sort of a
Way,—for his Manners were always gentle and well-nurtured,—that it only
went to make me like him more and more, and think what a Privilege it
was to be thus in hourly Communion with Master _Blower_.
Parting Time came at last. It was my own Fault if I left not that House
a wiser, better, and happier Woman. _Dorcas_ and I saw him start off for
_Berkshire_; and there was a Tear in my Eye, when he took my Hand to bid
me Farewell.
“_Cherry_,” said he, still holding my Hand, and looking at me with great
Goodness and Sweetness, “I shall never forget that to you, under Heaven,
I owe my Life. And, by the Way, there is Something I have often thought
of naming to you, only that it never occurred to me at the proper Time
... a very odd Circumstance.—When I escaped to _Holland_, and, as some
People thought, was in Want of Money, I found seven gold Pieces in the
Inside of one of my Slippers! Who could have put them there, do you
think? Ah, _Cherry_!—There! GOD bless you!”
[Illustration]
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