<h2 id='ch05' class='c007'>CHAPTER V</h2>
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<div class='nf-center c015'>
<div><i>A Shadow on the House</i></div>
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<p>
OH! how dreary now seemed
the House! Its Light and
its Life were gone. The
unseen Presence of Love
no longer gladdened it,
and the Shadow of Death was slowly
creeping on.</p>
<p class='c013'><i>Violet</i> came to pour out her Wretchedness
and her Self-reproaches to me as soon
as she heard what had happened. She
declared she could never be happy again—she
could never cease thinking of him.
I told her it would be very wicked of
her now, to think of him in the Way she
meant, any more. For saying which, I
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_76'>76</span>suppose she was offended at me; for she
did not come near me again for a good
While.</p>
<p class='c013'>I don’t suppose Tears are often shed
over thick Slices of Bride-cake, with Sugar
and Almonds an Inch deep, such as <i>Violet</i>
and I received (tied up with such vulgar
white Satin Knots!) from Mistress <i>Glossop</i>,
now, alas! Mistress <i>Blenkinsop</i>. When I
took it up to my Mother, she turned away
her Head, and said with her gentle Smile,
“You may give my Share to <i>Dolly</i>,—perhaps
she will like it to dream upon.”</p>
<p class='c013'>I said, “I don’t believe <i>Dolly</i> will touch
it;” however, there I was mistaken.
She said, “Law, Mistress <i>Cherry</i>, I’m sure
Mistress is very good.... I grudge
the eating of it, too; for ’tis an unseemly
Match, I calls it; but, there,—one don’t
get such Cake as this every Day!”</p>
<p class='c013'>When I repeated this Saying to my
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_77'>77</span>Mother, she said, “She belongs to the
<i>Glossop</i> School, <i>Cherry</i>, that <i>never can
forbear</i>.”</p>
<p class='c013'>Mistress <i>Blenkinsop</i> would have been
glad, I fancy, to show off her young
Husband on the <i>Bridge</i>; but she received
no Encouragement; and as for <i>Mark</i>, who
had certainly intended to pique <i>Violet</i>, he
was now as wretched as herself, to judge
from his Looks, as reported to us by one
or two who had seen Something of what
was going on. Happy or unhappy, he
never came near us, on Business or Pleasure;
and as my Father dropped the
Connexion, which was more to his Loss
than Mistress <i>Blenkinsop’s</i>, we now saw
Nothing of one another. For I scarce
went out at all; but now and then Mistress
<i>Benskin</i> would let fall how she had
met the <i>Blenkinsops</i> going to such and
such a Place of Public Resort; he looking
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_78'>78</span>ashamed and tired of his Companion; and
she as fine as the Rainbow. For she
would not only see <i>Funamble Turk</i>, and
pay her Shilling to ride round <i>Hyde Park</i>,
but intrude herself among the Quality in
<i>Mulberry Garden</i>, I warrant her!</p>
<p class='c013'>About this Time Master <i>Armytage</i> died.
Thereby his Family sustained great Loss,
not only of a kind Husband and Father,
but of worldly Goods; for the Widow
only got a Third of the Worth of the
Business, and the Son, who was married
and not very friendly with her, choosing
to live on the Premises and carry on the
Concern, she and her Daughters presently
went into an exceeding small House in the
<i>Borough</i>, where they opened a little Shop
that did not answer very well. After a
While, <i>Violet</i>, unused to such scant Living,
was glad to come back as Shopwoman to
her Brother, whose Wife had no Turn for
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_79'>79</span>Business; but it went sore against her to
be Second in the House where she had
hitherto been always treated like First;
and also it was a Grievance to her to
live among a Family of young Children.
These Trials fretted her till they impaired
her Beauty, making her grow peevish and
thin.</p>
<p class='c013'>Meantime, her younger Sister took
Plain-work when she could get it; and
the <i>Benskins</i> and <i>Hugh Braidfoot</i> supplied
her with what they could, which she accepted
gratefully; though, in her Father’s
Life-time, it would have quite affronted
Mistress <i>Armytage</i> that her Girls should
set a Stitch for either of them. But
Times were altered now; she was unable
even to keep a Servant; and, one Day,
when I looked in upon her, I noticed so
many little Symptoms of Poverty, that, on
repeating them to my Mother, she made
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_80'>80</span>me put up a Variety of little Presents for
her, and take them to her with her old
Neighbour’s Love.</p>
<div id='i082' class='figcenter id003'>
<ANTIMG src='images/i082.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /></div>
<p class='c013'>When I reached her House, I found
her on her Knees, scouring the Door-step
with such Zeal and Noise, that I could
not at first make her hear my Voice, or
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_81'>81</span>become sensible of my Presence. When
she did, she did not appear particularly
glad to see me, but pulled her Pail out of
my Way, and said, “Oh!—You’ll find
<i>Kitty</i> within—<i>Kitty! Kitty!</i>”</p>
<p class='c013'>And just within the Door, sure enough,
was <i>Kitty</i> standing with her Back to me,
before Master <i>Braidfoot</i>, who was seated,
with a fringed Glove in his Hand, and
holding forth to her very earnestly. He
had sent her a Box of Gloves to fringe,
and I suppose she had not trimmed them
to his Mind, for she was hanging her
Head, and looking very uncomfortable.
As soon as he saw me, he brought his
Discourse to a Finish by saying, “Of
which, more anon;” and nodding a
Good-bye to me, stepped over Mistress
<i>Armytage’s</i> Pail, and walked off. Mistress
<i>Armytage</i> now came in, taking off
her Apron in a great Bustle; and seemingly
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_82'>82</span>much more glad to see me than she
had been just before. And she received
my Mother’s Presents in mighty good
Part, especially the Brandy-cherries, which
had been put in quite as an After-thought,
saying they would make a pretty little
Dish for Supper. I thought she and <i>Kitty</i>
had been more in the Way of Bread-and-Cheese
Suppers now, but made no Comment.
Some People would as soon die
as not try to be thought genteel.</p>
<p class='c013'>When I had nearly reached Home, I
saw <i>Mark</i> coming along the Bridge, in a
hesitating, reluctant Sort of Way. When
he saw me, he stepped out more briskly,
and came up, holding out his Hand.</p>
<p class='c013'>“<i>Cherry</i>,” said he, lowering his Voice,
“my old Lady and I had almost a Tiff
this Morning, because she wanted you
and my Uncle to come and eat some
of the first green Peas of the Season
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_83'>83</span>with us, and I told her I did not think
you would. But, will you?”</p>
<p class='c013'>“Thank you kindly,” said I, “but my
Mother is so ill, we have no Heart to
go anywhere now.”</p>
<p class='c013'>“I knew it was so,” said he, looking
relieved; “but you will not think me
unfeeling, I hope, for putting the
Question?”</p>
<p class='c013'>“Oh no, I think it very kind of you,”
said I; “I take it as I know it was meant.
Won’t you come in? We have seen
nothing of you for a long Time.”</p>
<p class='c013'>“Thank you, not just now,” said he;
“good-bye.” And walked off as if he
were in a great Hurry.</p>
<p class='c013'>When I returned to my dear Mother,
she said, “<i>Cherry</i>, I’m sure you will be
amused when I tell you what I have
been dreaming about,—I dreamed you
were married!”</p>
<p class='c013'><span class="pagenum" id='Page_84'>84</span>I said, “Dear Mother, if you take to
dreaming, and my Father to presaging,
there’ll be Nothing left to be surprised
about!”</p>
<p class='c013'>“Ah, well,” said she, gently smiling,
“but this was a very pretty, pleasant
Dream—You were married to a Person
a good Deal older than yourself, but
very much to your own Mind, notwithstanding,
and were living like a
Lady, with Everything genteel and
comfortable about you.”</p>
<p class='c013'>I smiled to cover a Sigh; and kissing
her thin Hand, said, “May you live,
dear Mother, to see it.”</p>
<p class='c013'>“No,” said she, “I know I shall not do
that—my Time is growing very short
now; but yet I shall leave you in
Peace, <i>Cherry</i>,—I am so certain of your
doing well. I don’t mean because of
this foolish Dream.”</p>
<p class='c013'><span class="pagenum" id='Page_85'>85</span>“As for doing well,” said I, “<span class='sc'>God’s</span>
Blessing generally rests on the Child
of many Prayers, ... but if by doing
well, you mean marrying well, do you
think that is the only Way I can be
happy?”</p>
<p class='c013'>“No,” said she, after a Pause, “I do
not. I think there is no other Happiness
equal to it, where the Parties are
well assorted, and are good to the Core;
but much depends upon each other, and
much upon themselves; so much, that
it had often been better for them they
had never met.”</p>
<p class='c013'>“And as so few <i>are</i> good to the Core,”
said I, “perhaps the Balance of Happiness
may not lie on the Side you
think.”</p>
<p class='c013'>“Perhaps not,” said she, “but every one
hopes to be the Exception.—However,”
she added, after another Pause, “these
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_86'>86</span>Things are not of our ordering; and
whatever be the happier Lot, it is certain
we cannot secure it unless it be
appointed us, whether for ourselves or
for those we dearly love. It may be
<span class='sc'>God’s</span> Will that you shall be <i>Cherry
Curling</i> all your Days, in Spite of my
Dream, and in Spite of your being fitted
for Happiness in another State; but
that it is His Purpose to make you
happy <i>in yourself</i>, whatever you are, I
feel as sure of as that I see you now.”</p>
<p class='c013'>When I told her what Satisfaction the
Brandy-cherries had given, she smiled
quietly, and said, “The same Woman,
still!—You shall take her some potted
Salmon to-morrow.”</p>
<p class='c013'>I did so; but did not, this Time, find
the Widow cleaning her Door-step. She
had gone to Market; the Shop was
empty, and I walked through it into the
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_87'>87</span>little Parlour beyond. Here I again came
upon <i>Kitty</i> and <i>Hugh Braidfoot</i>: she was
sitting this Time, and he standing, and,
the Moment she saw me, she snatched
away her Hand from him, which he was
holding, and ran up Stairs. I felt very
awkward, and was retreating without a
Word; but he, turning about upon me
with a Sort of homely, manly Dignity,
a Mixture of Placid and Resolute in
his Manner that I never saw before,
and which became him very well,
held out his Hand to me, and said,
“You see, <i>Cherry</i>, how it is to be.
There’ll soon be a Wedding in this
House. The old Lady has meant there
should be, all along; but what though?
Shall a Man that knows his own Mind
be stayed from it for Fear of playing
into a managing Woman’s Hands? Had
the Widow been less eager, the Thing
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_88'>88</span>might have been sooner brought about;
however, you and I have known her
longer than Yesterday—she’s <i>Kitty’s</i>
Mother; and enough’s said!”</p>
<p class='c013'>I wished him Joy, and said I thought
he and <i>Kitty</i> would be very happy together.
Then, setting down my Mother’s
little Gift on the Table, I turned to go
away. “What’s that?” said he. “Only
a little potted Salmon for Mistress <i>Armytage</i>,”
said I. “I’ll call <i>Kitty</i> down,”
said he; and going to the Stair-foot, he
called “<i>Kitty! Kitty!</i>” but she did not
answer; and giving me a knowing Smile,
he said, “I don’t think she’ll come down
while we are both here.”—“I’m going,”
said I; “but here comes Mistress <i>Armytage</i>
from Market.” “Oh, then, I’m going
too!” cried he, laughing and catching
up his Hat. “I’ve no Mind to break the
News to the Widow, so come your
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_89'>89</span>Ways, <i>Cherry</i>, we’ll walk to the <i>Bridge</i>
together; don’t look behind you.”...
“’Tis Pity o’ my Life,” continued he,
smiling, when we had walked a little Way
together, “that respect her I cannot; for
you see, <i>Cherry</i>, a Man can never respect
a Woman whom he sees trying to draw
him in! He may walk into her Trap
with his Eyes open, and let her save
him some Trouble, but respect her or
trust her, is out of his Power. First,
she wanted to have me for <i>Violet</i>: that
would not do—then, <i>Kitty</i> was kept out
of Sight till she found I would not have
the other; but as soon as she found
I liked the youngest Sister best, poor
<i>Violet</i> was put in the Shade, and <i>Kitty’s</i>
Turn came. ’Tis ill to speak this Way
of one’s Mother-in-Law elect; I hope
she’ll breed no Trouble between us
when she’s Mother-in-Law in earnest;
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_90'>90</span>I should like to pension the old Gentlewoman
off, but that can’t well be; so
we must let her have the Run of the
House, and try to make her comfortable
as long as she lets us be so.”</p>
<p class='c013'>Then, turning to a more agreeable
Subject, he sang <i>Kitty’s</i> Praises; and,
reaching his own Door, hoped she and
I should be good Neighbours. “Your
Father and you must come to the
Wedding-dinner,” said he; “we may
not have as many good Things as the
<i>Blenkinsops</i> had, but I fancy ’twill be a
cheerfuller Dinner.”</p>
<p class='c013'>When I told my Mother the News,
she took it very composedly, but I observed
her Eyelids give one little, involuntary
Movement, that betrayed more
Surprise than she was willing to show.
“Ah, my dear Mother,” thought I,
“another of your little Castles in the
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_91'>91</span>Air for me has been thrown down, I
fear. This was, no Doubt, the Hero
of the Dream, who was to make me
so comfortable! What a lucky Thing
that I care not a Rush for him!”
However, we never said a Word to one
another on the Subject.</p>
<p class='c013'>So the Wedding took place, and my
Father and I were at the Dinner, which
consisted of every Nicety that Money
could procure; for Mistress <i>Armytage</i> said
that <i>Hugh Braidfoot</i> should have all his
favourite Dishes, and she took Care to
have her own, whether they corresponded
or not. So there was roast Pig and
pickled Salmon, Calf’s Head and green
Goose, Lobster Salad and Marrow-bones,
and more Sweets than I ever saw out of
a Pastry-cook’s Shop. As some Things
were in Season and others were not, the
latter, though sweet in the Mouth, were
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_92'>92</span>bitter in Digestion; I mean, to Master
<i>Braidfoot</i> when he came to pay the Bills.
And then Mistress <i>Armytage</i>, ashamed of
having exceeded becoming Limits, went
about to several of the Tradesmen, who
were <i>Hugh Braidfoot’s</i> personal Friends,
and who already were displeased enough
at not having been invited to the Feast;
and she incensed them the more by trying
to get them to lower their Bills, which
they thought and called excessive mean.
Thereby, Mistress <i>Armytage</i> got into bad
Odour, and <i>Kitty</i> came in for her Share,
and shed her first Tears after Marriage
upon it, which I wish had been her last.
However, Master <i>Braidfoot</i> laughed the
Matter off, in a jovial, careless Sort of a
Way; and went round himself and paid
every one in full, and made Friends with
them with a few merry Sayings; so Peace
was restored, that Time.</p>
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<span class="pagenum" id='Page_93'>93</span>
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