_The Squire’s Garden_
BEFORE I went to Bed, I peeped out of my Window, and saw the full Moon
shining over the broad gravel Walks and Fishponds; and I thought how
much I should like to go round the Garden before Breakfast. However,
when I woke in the Morning, I feared I had been oversleeping myself, so
dressed in a great Hurry, and went down Stairs. There I found two Maids
flooding the great Hall with Pails of Water, and they told me we were to
breakfast in the green Parlour, but not for an Hour yet. So I strayed
out into the Garden, where were still a good many Flowers, though the
Season was so late, backed by Evergreen Hedges, and Rows of tall Trees
that were turning yellow and scarlet; and it seemed to me just like the
Garden of _Eden_.
So I went on and on, thinking it mighty pleasant, and wondering what
might be the Names of some of the Flowers; and at length I came to a
Bowling-green, of wonderful fine Turf, between high Horn-beam Hedges;
and having a Sun-dial at one End, and a little brick Summer-house faced
with Stone at the other. Into the Summer-house I went; and there, with
all his Books and Papers about him, sat Master _Blower_ writing.
[Illustration:
A Bowling-Green of wonderful Fine Turf.
]
“Ah, _Cherry_!” says he, holding out his Hand, “so you’ve found out my
Snuggery! Have they sent you to summon me to Breakfast?”
“No, Sir,” said I, “I did not know you were here.” And turned away.
“Stop a Minute,” says he, hastily putting up his Papers, “and we will
take a Turn together round this wonderful Garden. The Garden of your
_Dream, Cherry_.”
I said how very odd it was I should have dreamed about it,—the Garden of
my Dream being so exactly like the Reality.
“Why, you simple Girl,” says he, laughing; “because I must have
described it to you before, though you and I had forgotten it!”
I felt quite sure in my own Mind that he had not.
“Well,” says he, setting out with me along the Bowling-green, “what’s
the News, _Cherry_? The Plague, you say, is abating, but not gone. Have
you seen or heard Anything of my poor People?”
I said yes. Mistress _Peach_ had come to me on my sending for her the
Evening before I left; and had told me how Things were going on.
“And how _are_ they going on?” said he.
“Well, Sir, it would be a poor Compliment to you, if they were going on
as well in your Absence, as in your Presence.”
“That’s true,” says he, looking grave; “but, for Particulars.”
“Many Persons in Trouble of one kind or another, knock at your Door; and
when they find they cannot see you, go away in Tears.”
“Poor Souls!” said he, much moved, “I will return to them shortly. I
think I am almost well enough now, _Cherry_. They think I am neglecting
them?”
“No, Sir, they are very sorry you need recruiting; but they are sorry
for themselves too.”
“It’s a very nice Point,” says he musingly, “when we ought to lie by. I
believe, had I not left Town when I did, I might have been dead now—and
yet, perhaps I was like a Soldier deserting his Post.”
I said, “No, Sir, you were liker to a Soldier carried off the
Battlefield to the Hospital.”
“Thank you, _Cherry_,” says he, taking my Hand and drawing it under his
Arm. We had now reached the End of the Bowling-green; but instead of
turning into the Garden, we continued walking up and down.
“And what else?” says he. “Come, let me hear all.”
“Well, Sir,” said I, “there’s not much more to tell——”
“Something, though, I can see!” said he. “Come! out with it, _Cherry_!”
“Sir,” said I, “it’s of no Use for us to trouble and vex ourselves about
what wicked People will say of us in mere wantonness.”
“Sometimes, though, we may hear the Truth from an Enemy,” says he. “And
what do wicked, wanton People say of me?”
“Why, Sir,—some very evil-minded, malapert Person hath writ on your
Church-door, ‘A Pulpit to Let!’”
[Illustration:
The Squire’s Garden
]
“The Rascal!” said he hastily, and colouring very red. “Why now, did I
not keep on, Sabbaths and Week-days, till the Plague-swellings were
actually in my Throat, though my Congregation often consisted of only
two or three old Women? Is not this enough to provoke a Man, _Cherry_?”
I said, “Yes, Sir,—only there’s no Use in being provoked.”
“None, none,” says he, much perturbed,—“GOD forgive me for it!—I can
hardly have Patience, though, with them.”
I said, “Dear Sir, you must have Nothing _but_ Patience with them.”
“You are right, you are right,” says he, cooling, but still much moved.
“Ill or well, I must go back to them forthwith.... The Fact is, there is
a Matter I would gladly have settled here, a little at my Leisure.—But,
Duty before all! So, I’ll go back, _Cherry_, to mine.”
I smiled a little as I said, “Somebody has been doing Duty for you, the
last Week or ten Days, Sir.”
“Who?” cried he.
I said, “An Independent Minister.”
A complex Kind of Expression crossed his Face; for a Moment he looked
pained and provoked, and then burst out a-laughing.
“GOD bless the worthy Fellow!” cries he, “I’ll do him a good Turn if I
can, the first Time he’ll let me! ‘The good LORD accept every one that
prepareth his Heart to seek GOD, the LORD GOD of his Fathers, even
though he be not cleansed according to the Purification of the
Sanctuary!’—Well, _Cherry_, I must go! and that forthwith,—I would fain
have tarried here while your Visit lasted.”
I looked quite blank at the Idea of being left behind; and said, “Must
I, then, stay?”
“Why,” cried he, “what is to prevent you? Your Visit is not to _me,
Cherry_!”
I said, “Oh, Sir, but ...” and stopped, for I did not know whether it
were right to say I should feel so lonely without him. But the Tears
came into my Eyes.
“I hope,” says he, in his kindest Way, “you will stay and have a very
pleasant Visit.”
I said, “It won’t,—it can’t be pleasant now.”
“_Cherry_,” he said, yet more affectionately, “we shall soon meet
again.... You shake your Head.—Well, our Lives are not in our own
keeping, certainly, and may be called in the next Minute, here as well
as in _London_. And I should not like to die away from my Post. But,
_Cherry_, since you are inexpressibly dear to me, and I think I am, in a
less Degree, dear to you, why, when we meet next, should we ever part
again?—Nay, hear me, _Cherry_! for I have long meant to say this, though
not quite so soon.... I thought it would seem so abrupt; I wanted to
bring you to it by Degrees, lest I should get an Answer I did not like.
For, indeed, _Cherry_, I know how much too old I am for you, how
thoroughly unworthy of you.”
I could not stand this, and cried, “Oh, how _can_ you say such Things,
Sir! Unworthy of _me_, indeed! when any Woman——”
Might be proud to have you, was my Thought, but I did not say it.
“_Cherry_,” says he, “there was never——” And just at that Moment a Man
shouted, “High!” at the Top of his Voice, and then, “Breakfast!”
“We’re keeping them waiting,” said I, slipping my Hand from his Arm,
“and you’ve left your Papers all blowing about in the Summer-house.” And
so, ran off to the House.
Fain would I not have gone straight to Breakfast, but there was no Help
for it; and the Squire kept loading my Plate, and yet saying I ate
Nothing. He and his Lady were wondrous sorry to hear Master _Blower_ say
he must return to Town the next Day; and looked rather askance at me for
having brought down any Tidings that should summon him thither. After
Breakfast, however, he took his Brother aside to explain to him how
needful was his Return to his Parish; and Mistress _Blower_, bringing
forth an immense Quantity of Patchwork of very intricate Contrivance,
said, “Now, you and I will do a good Morning’s Work:”—and told me it was
a Fancy of hers to furnish a little Bed-chamber with Patchery, lined
with Pink, and fringed with White. However, Master _Blower_ put a Check
to all this, as far as my Help went, by coming in and saying that as
this was to be his last Day in the Country, he wanted to take a long
Walk with me, and shew me the finest View in the County. Mistress
_Blower_ made one or two Objections, which he summarily over-ruled; so,
in a very few Minutes, off we were walking together. And first, without
any Reference to what had been said before Breakfast, he took me round
the Village Green, and into the Church and Churchyard; and made me look
over the Parsonage Gate. I said, “Dear me, if I were you, Sir, how much
sooner I would be Parson here than in _Whitechapel_!”
“Would you?” cries he. “Oh, but this is a very poor Living!”
I said, “I did not know you cared much for Money.”
“Well,” he said, “not to spend on myself, but as a Means of Usefulness.
And, oh _Cherry_! there is so much Wretchedness in _London_, that one
cannot, after all, relieve!—I’ll tell you what I do,” continues he,
turning down a green Lane with me, “as a general Rule I give away half.
That was _Zaccheus’_ Measure, you know. But, as a single Man, I have
found the other Half a great deal too much for me, so I give away all I
can of it in Casualties ... just to please myself, as it were. But I
don’t consider this Sub-division imperative; therefore, when you and I
commence Housekeeping together, which I hope will be in a _very_ little
While, we will spend the full Half. Will that suffice you?”
“No indeed, Sir,” said I, “I shall be very sorry indeed if I add to your
Expenses so much as that. I would rather give the Poor another Mouthful
than deprive them of one; and as I shall only cost you just what I eat
and wear, I hope it won’t make much Difference.”
“You’re a comical Girl,” says he. “But, _Cherry_, I’m sorry to say, that
rambling old House of mine is now so completely out of Repair, as to be
unfit for a Lady’s Occupation. We must paint it and point it, and mend
the Roof.”
“Well, but,” said I, “my Father has left me six hundred Pounds, which
will do all that very well.”
“Six hundred Pounds!” says he, opening his Eyes very wide, and then
laughing. “Why, you’ve a Fortune, _Cherry_! How could the dear, good Man
have saved it? I thought his Business seemed quite dwindled away.”
“He had some Money with my Mother, Sir,” said I. “And an Uncle left him
a Legacy. Besides this Money, which Master _Benskin_ and Master
_Braidfoot_ pay Interest for, the House is mine for a long Term; and
_Mark_ means to buy the Business; so that I hope I shall not be very
expensive to you.”
“Well,” says he, “it will be for After-consideration whether we repair
the Parsonage at once or not. All shall be as you wish it, _Cherry_.”
And then we went on talking of this and that till we came to a Seat
under a Tree; and there we sat and talked all the Rest of the Morning;
for he did not care much for going on to see the Prospect.
After Dinner, it became Master _Blower’s_ Object to persuade me to name
a very early Day indeed—even that Day Week; and, though I could hardly
endure to think of so sudden a Change, and thought it would seem so
strange and so unwomanly to Everybody, yet the main Thing that wrought
upon me was what I kept to myself; namely, the Danger he was going to
incur in returning to his Duties before the Infection was over. And I
thought how I should reproach myself if he fell ill, and died for want
of my Nursing. But then, again, it would seem so outrageous to the
Squire and his Lady.... Not at all, he said, they knew all about his
wanting to marry me before ever they sent for me, and the Squire’s Lady
had at first been very cool about it; but before we parted at Night, I
had quite won her over; and she said to him when the Door closed upon
me, “Well, _Nat_, you may marry that Girl as soon as you like.”
I could hardly help laughing.—What was I to do? I said, oh, very well, I
supposed they must all have their own Way,—I would try to be not very
miserable about it. So, when we went in to Supper, Master _Blower_ made
no Secret of what we had been talking about; and Mistress _Blower_
kissed me, and so did the Squire, and we had a wonderful pleasant
Supper. When Master _Blower_ was taking leave of me, he asked me if I
had any Message to send Home. It then struck me I must send Word to
_Mark_ and _Dolly_ how soon my Condition was going to be changed,—but,
what could I say?—I had scarce written a Letter in my Life; least of all
to _Mark_; and could not for the Life of me think of any Way of telling
him the News, sufficiently round-about to prevent its seeming abrupt
after all. So, thought I, least said, soonest mended: and, sitting down
to Pen, Ink, and Paper, I wrote in my smallest, neatest Hand,—
“Dear _Mark_,
“I’m going to be Mistress _Blower_.”
And sealed it up and directed it. Master _Blower_ said, “Short, if not
sweet!” and promised it should be faithfully delivered.
When he was gone, the Patchwork was put away, and the Wedding-dresses
sent for. Dear Mistress _Blower_ was as kind as a Mother to me, though
her Husband was only five Years older than mine. Indeed she and the
Squire looked upon me quite as a Girl, though I told them over and over
again I was not. Though they called each other Father and Mother, they
had never had but one Child, which died at three Years old; but I
suppose it was always in their Thoughts.
What a happy Week that was!—though Master _Blower_ was away. On the
Whole, his Absence was a good Thing: it gave me Time to steady a little,
and feel that it was not a Dream that I was going to live always within
the Sound of his dear Voice. And, as there was much Sewing to do, I had
Plenty of Time to think of it. Mistress _Blower_ gave me my
Wedding-clothes,—we had Post-horses to the old Coach, and went to buy
them at the County Town. The Gown was white Silk; the Hat trimmed with a
Wreath of very little pink Roses round the Crown; and I had a
cherry-colour Habit for travelling. Master _Blower_ said he did not
deserve such a pretty Bride,—but that was his kind Way of speaking. I
only wish I were better worth his having!
—We went away from the Church-door,—as happy a Bridegroom and Bride as
ever rode a Pillion. When we had got out of Everybody’s Sight, my
Husband said, “How are you getting on, Mistress _Blower_?” I said, “I am
smiling so that I am quite glad there’s Nobody to see me.” “May the Rest
of your Life be all Smiles and no Tears, _Cherry_,” says he,—“with GOD’S
Blessing, it shall be so if I can make it so!” “Ah!” said I, “I’m
content to take the Rough and the Smooth together, since I shall
henceforth share them with you, Sir.” “Dearest _Cherry_,” says he, “you
really must leave off calling me _Sir_!”
[Illustration]
“I don’t know that I can, Sir,” said I, “but I’ll try.”
Though the Journey was delightsome, yet towards the latter End of it,
every Mile of the Road became less and less pleasant, till at length we
got into the Tide of People, on Horse and on Foot, setting in towards
_London_. Then, how strange it seemed to me that I was not going back to
the Bridge! where I had lived all the Days of my Life till within the
last Week! I began to tremble a little; and the Idea of the great old
roomy, gloomy House in _Whitechapel_, with no bright, sparkling Water to
look out upon, became rather oppressive to me, till I thought how Master
_Blower’s_ continual Presence would light it up. The Streets now
becoming thronged, he pressed my Arm tighter to him and bade me hold on
close; and I felt he was all the World to me, be the House what it
would. But when we reached it, what a Difference! The whole Front had a
fresh Coat of Paint, which made it wondrous lightsome and cheerful; the
Door-step was fresh whitened, the Door fresh varnished, the Knocker
fresh polished, and Mistress _Peach_ standing on the Step with a new Cap
plaited close round her sweet, pleasant Face, and dressed in a new
grass-green Gown. I could not help kissing her as I ran in; she said,
“GOD bless you, Mistress!” with hearty Cordiality, and followed me from
Room to Room. Everything had been cleaned up, and she told me, laughing,
that though she had had Plenty of Helps, it had been the hardest Week’s
Work she had ever had in her Life. The old green Bed-furniture had given
Place to new white Dimity; there was a Lady’s Pincushion on the
Toilette, with “May you be happy!” in minikin Pins; and a Beau-pot of
Flowers on the Window-seat. “All that is Mistress _Violet’s_ doing,”
said _Dorcas_; “she has not left the House half an Hour, I assure you,
and her Needle went in and out as fast as could be when she was
finishing the last Muslin Blind. Oh, she has been very busy, has
Mistress _Violet_! ’Twas she set out the Supper Table with the Flowers,
and Sweet-meats, and Pound-cake.”
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------