The String of Pearls (1850), p. 8

"Indeed, father! what has he done?"
"Nothing at all, and that's the very reason. I had to take down the shutters myself this morning, and what do you think for? He had the coolness to tell me he couldn't take down the shutters this morning, or sweep out the shop, because his aunt had the toothache."
"A poor excuse, father," said Johanna, as she bustled about and got the breakfast ready; "a very poor excuse."
"Poor indeed! but his month is up to-day, and I must get rid of him. But I suppose I shall have no end of bother with your mother, because his aunt belongs to Mr. Lupin's congregation; but as sure as this is the 20th day of August—
"It is the 20th day of August," said Johanna, as she sunk into a chair and burst into tears. "It is, it is! I thought I could have controlled this, but I cannot, father, I cannot. It was that which made me late. I knew mother was out; knew that I ought to be down attending upon you, and I was praying to Heaven for strength to do so because this was the 20th of August."
Johanna spoke these words incoherently, and amidst sobs, and when she had finished them, she leant her sweet face upon her small hands, and wept like a child.
The astonishment, not unmingled with positive dismay, of the old spectacle-maker, was vividly depicted on his countenance, and for some minutes he sat perfectly aghast, with his hands resting on his knees, and looking in the face of his beautiful child—that is to say, as much as he could see of it between those little taper fingers that were spread upon it—as if he were newly awakened from some dream.
"Good God, Johanna!" he said at length, "what is this? My dear child, what has happened? Tell me, my dear, unless you wish to kill me with grief."
"You shall know, father," she said. "I did not think to say a word about it, but considered I had strength enough of mind to keep my sorrows in my own breast, but the effort has been too much for me, and I have been compelled to yield. If you had not looked so kindly on me—if I did not know that you loved me as you do, I should easily have kept my secret, but, knowing that much, I cannot.
"My darling," said the old man, "you are right, there; I do love you. What would the world be to me without you? There was a time, twenty years ago, when your mother made up much of my happiness, but of late, what with Mr. Lupin, and psalm-singing, and tea-drinking, I see very little of her, and what I do see is not very satisfactory. Tell me, my darling, what it is that vexes you, and I'll soon put it to rights. I don't belong to the city trainbands for nothing."
"Father, I know that your affection would do all for me that it is possible to do, but you cannot recall the dead to life; and if this day passes over and I see him not, nor hear from him, I know that, instead of finding a home for me whom he loved, he has in the effort to do so found a grave for himself. He said he would he said he would."
Here she wrung her hands, and wept again, and with such a bitterness of anguish that the old spectacle-maker was at his wit's end, and knew not what on earth to do or say.
"My dear, my dear," he cried, "who is he? I hope you don't mean—
"Hush, father, hush! I know the name that is hovering on your lips but something seems even now to whisper to me he is no more, and, being so, speak nothing of him, father, but that which is good."
"You mean Mark Ingestrie."
"I do and if he had a thousand faults, he at feast loved me; he loved me truly and most sincerely." mo M:u v
"My dear," said the old spectacle-maker, "you know that I wouldn't for all the world say anything to vex you, nor will I ; but tell me what it is that makes this day more than any other so gloomy to you."
"I will, lather ; you shall hear. It was on this day two years ago that we last met; it was m the Temple-garden, and he had just had a stormy interview with

H,— ^, , , ,, , ,„, T _ m m m _ . „ ,

"Indeed, father! what has he done?" - cll ,, f ^

"Nothing at all, and that's the very reason. I had to .take down the shutte s
myself this morning, and what do you think for? He had the coolness to tell me
he couldn't take down the shutters this morning, or sweep out the shop, because

his aunt had the toothache." " , t ' , , . t-^

" A poor excuse, father," said Johanna, as she bustled about and got the break-
fast ready; "a very poor excuse." , . . ; x> * T

"Poor indeed ! but his month is up to-day, and I must get rid of nim. JJut 1
suppose I shall have no end of bother with your mother, because his aunt belongs
to Mr. Lupin's congregation ; but as sure as this is the 20th day of August—-

"It is the 20th day of August," said Johanna, as she sunk into a chair and burst
into tears. " It is, it is ! I thought I could have controlled this, but I cannot,
father, I cannot. It was that which made me late. I knew mother was out ; I
knew that I ought to be down attending upon you, and I was praying to Heaven
for strength to do so because this was the 20th of August."

Johanna spoke these words incoherently, and atmdst sobs, and when she had
finished them, she leant her sweet face upon her small hands, and wept like a
child.

The astonishment, not unmingled with positive dismay, of the old spectacle-
maker, was vividly depicted on his countenance, and for some minutes he sat per-
fectly aghast, with his hands resting on his knees, and looking in the face of his
beautiful child — that is to say, aa much as he could see of it between those
little taper fingers that were spread upon it— as if he were newly awakened from
some dream.

" Good God, Johanna !" he said at length, " what is this ? My dear child, what
has happened ? Tell me, my dear, unless you wish to kill me with grief."

" You shall know, father," she said. " I did not think to say a word about it,
but considered I had strength enough of mind to keep my sorrows in my own
breast, but the effort has been too much for me, and I have been compelled to
yield. If you had not looked so kindly on me — if I did not know that you loved
me as you do, I should easily have kept my secret, but, knowing that much^ 1
cannot.

"My darling," said the old man, "you are right, there ; I do love you. What
would the world be to me without you ? There was a time, twenty years ago,
when your mother made up much of my happiness, but of late, what with Mr.
Lupin, and psalm-singing, and tea-drinking, I see very little of her, and what IMe
I do see is not very satisfactory. Tell me, my darling, what it is that vexes you,
and I'll soon put it to rights. I don't belong to the city trainbands for nothing."

" Father, I know that your affection would do all for me that it is possible to do,
but you cannot recall the dead to life ; and if this day passes over and I see him
not, nor hear from him, I know that, instead of finding a home for me whom he
loved, he has in the effort to do so found a grave for himself. He said he would
he said he would." 1

Here she wrung her hands, and wept again, and with such a bitterness of anguish
that the old spectacle-maker was at his wit's end, and knew not what on earth to
do or say.

" My dear, my dear," he cried, * who is he? I hope you don't mean - *
" Hush, father, hush ! I know the name that is hovering on your lips but
something seems even now to whisper to me he is no more, and, being so, speak
nothing ot him, father, but that which is good." F
" You mean Mark Ingestrie."

" I do and if he had a thousand faults, he at feast lovea me ; he loved me trulv

and most sincerely." mo M:u v

" My dear," said the old spectacle-maker, * you know that I wouldn't for all the
world say anything to vex you, nor will I ; but tell me what it is that makeTthia
day more than any other so gloomy to you." *«<*m» uus

" I will, lather ; you shall hear. It was on this day two years ago that we last
met ; it was m the Temple-garden, and he had just Ld a stormy St^wy^

H,— ^, , , ,, , ,„, T _ m m m _ . „ ,