Her Marriage Lines
II had never been out to service before, and I thought it a grandthing when I got a place at Charleston Farm. Old Mr. Alderton wasclose-fisted enough, and while he had the management of the farm itwas a place no girl need have wished to come to; but now Mr.Alderton had given up farming this year or two, and young MasterHarry, he had the management of everything. Mr. Alderton, he stuckin one room with his books, which he was always fond of above a bit,and must needs be waited on hand and foot, only driving over toLewes every now and then.Six pounds a year I was to have, and a little something extra atChristmas, according as I behaved myself. It was Master Harry whoengaged me. He rode up to our cottage one fine May morning, lookingas grand on his big grey horse, and says he, through the stampingclatter of his horse's hoofs on the paved causeway--'Are you Deresby's Poll?' says he.And I says, 'Yes; what might you be wanting?''We want a good maid up at the farm,' says he, patting his horse'sneck--'Steady, old boy--and they tell me you're a good girl thatwants a good place, and ours is a good place that wants a good girl.So if our wages suit you, when can you come?'And I said, 'Tuesday, if that would be convenient.'And he took off his hat to me as if I was a queen, though I wasfloury up to the elbows, being baking-day, and rode off down thelane between the green trees, and no king could have lookedhandsomer.Charleston is a lonesome kind of house. It's bare and white, withthe farm buildings all round it, except on one side where the bigpond is; and lying as it does, in the cup of the hill, it seems toshut loneliness in and good company out.I was to be under Mrs. Blake, who had been housekeeper there sincethe old mistress died. No one knew where she came from, or what hadbecome of Mr. Blake, if ever there had been one. For my part I neverthought she was a widow, and always expected some day to see Mr.Blake walk in and ask for his wife. But as a widow she came, and asa widow she passed.She had just that kind of handsome, black, scowling looks thatalways seem to need a lot of black jet and crape to set themoff--the kind of complexion that seems to be playing up for thewidow's weeds from the very cradle. I have heard it said she washandsome, and so she may have been; and she took a deal of care ofher face, always wearing a veil when there was a wind, and her handsto have gloves, if you please, for every bit of dirty work.But she was a capable woman, and she soon put me in the way of mywork; and me and Betty, who was a little girl of fourteen fromAlfreston, had most of the housework to do, for Mrs. Blake would letnone of us do a hand's-turn for the old master. It was she must doeverything, and as he got more and more took up with his books therecome to be more and more waiting on him in his own room; and after abit Mrs. Blake used even to sit and write for him by the hourtogether.I have heard tell old Mr. Alderton wasn't brought up to be a farmer,but was a scholar when he was young, and had to go into farming whenhe married Hakes's daughter as brought the farm with her; and now hehad gone back to his books he was more than ever took up with theidea of finding something out--making something new that no one hadever made before--his invention, he called it, but I neverunderstood what it was all about--and indeed Mrs. Blake took verygood care I shouldn't.She wanted no one to know anything about the master exceptherself--at least that was my opinion--and if that was her wish shecertainly got it.It was hard work, but I'm not one to grudge a hand's-turn here or ahand's-turn there, and I was happy enough; and when the men came infor their meals I always had everything smoking hot, and just as Ishould wish to sit down to it myself: And when the men come in,Master Harry always come in with them, and he'd say, 'Bacon andgreens again, Polly, and done to a turn, I'll wager. You're the girlfor my money!' and sit down laughing to a smoking plateful.And so I was quite happy, and with my first six months' money I gotfather a new pipe and a comforter agin the winter, and as pretty ashepherd's plaid shawl as ever you see for mother, and a knittedwaistcoat for my brother Jim, as had wanted one this two year, andhad enough left to buy myself a bonnet and gown that I didn't feelashamed to sit in church in under Master Harry's own blue eye. Mrs.Blake looked very sour when she saw my new things.'You think to catch a young man with those,' says she. 'You gells isall alike. But it isn't fine feathers as catches a husband, as theysay. Don't you believe it.'And I said, 'No; a husband as was caught so easy might be as easygot rid of, which was convenient sometimes.'And we come nigh to having words about it.That was the day before old master went off to London unexpected.When Mrs. Blake heard he was going, she said she would take theopportunity of his being away to make so bold as to ask him for aday's holiday to go and visit her friends in Ashford. So she andmaster went in the trap to the station together, and off by the sametrain; and curious enough, it was by the same train in the eveningthey come back, and I thought to myself, 'That's like yourartfulness, Mrs. Blake, getting a lift both ways.'And I wondered to myself whether her friends in Ashford, supposingshe had any, was as glad to see her as we was glad to get rid ofher.That's a day I shall always remember, for other things than her andmaster going away.That was the day Betty and I got done early, and she wanted to runhome to her mother to see about her clean changes for Sunday, whichhadn't come according to expectations.So I said, 'Off you go, child, and mind you're back by tea,' and Isat down in the clean kitchen to do up my old Sunday bonnet and makeit fit for everyday.And as I was sitting there, with the bits of ribbons and things inmy lap, unpicking the lining of the bonnet, I heard the back dooropen, and thinking it was one of the men bringing in wood, maybe, Ididn't turn my head, and next minute there was Master Harry had gothis hand under my chin and holding my head back, and was kissing meas if he never meant to stop.'Lor bless you, Master Harry,' says I, as soon as I could push himaway, dropping all the ribbons and scissors and things in my flurry,'how could you fashion to behave so? And me alone in the house! Ithought you had better sense.''Don't be cross, Polly,' says he, smiling at me till I could haveforgiven him much more than that, and going down on his knees topick up my bits of rubbish. 'You know well enough who my choice is.I haven't lived in the house with you six months without finding outthere's only one girl as I should like to keep my house to the endof the chapter.'He had that took me by surprise that I give you my word that for aminute or two I couldn't say anything, but sat looking like a fooland taking the ribbons and things from his hands as he picked themup.When I come to my senses I said, 'I don't know what maggot has bityou, sir, to think of such nonsense. What would the master say, andMrs. Blake and all?'Well, he got up off his knees and walked up and down the kitchentwice in a pretty fume, and he said a bad word about what Mrs. Blakemight say that I'm not going to write down here.'And as for my father,' says he, 'I know he's ideas above what'sfitting for farmer folk, but I know best what's the right choice forme, and if you won't mind me not telling him, and will wait for mepatient, and will give me a kind word and a kiss on a Sunday, so tosay, you and me will be happy together, and you shall be mistress ofthe farm when the poor old dad's time comes to go. Not that I wishhis time nearer by an hour, for all I love you so dear, Polly.'And I hope I did what was right, though it was with a sore heart,for I said--'I couldn't stay on in your folks' house to have secretunderstandings with you, Master Harry. That ain't to be thought of.But I do say this--'tain't likely that I shall marry any other chap;and if, when you come to be master of Charleston, you are in thesame mind, why you can speak your mind to me again, and I'll listento you then with a freer heart, maybe, than I can to-day.'And with that I bundled all my odds and ends into the dresserdrawer, and took the kettle off, which was a-boiling over.'And now,' I says, 'no more of this talk, if you and me is to keepfriends.''Shake hands on it,' says he; 'you're a good girl, Polly, and I seemore than ever what a lucky man I shall be the day I go to churchwith you; and I'll not say another word till I can say it afore allthe world, with you to answer "Yes" for all the world to hear.'So that was settled, and, of course, from that time I kept myselfmore than ever to myself, not even passing the time of day with ayoung man if I could help it, because I wanted to keep all mythoughts and all my words for Master Harry, if he should ever wantme again.
IIWell, as I said, old Master and Mrs. Blake come back together fromthe station, and from that day forward Mrs. Blake was unbearablerthan ever. And one day when Mr. Sigglesfield, the lawyer from Lewes,was in the parlour, she a-talking to him after he'd been up to seemaster (about his will, no doubt), she opened the parlour door sharpand sudden just as I was bringing the tea for her to have it withhim like a lady--she opened the door sudden, as I say, and boxed myears as I stood, and I should have dropped the tea-tray but for mebeing brought up a careful girl, and taught always to hold on to thetea-tray with all my fingers.I'm proud to say I didn't say a word, but I put down that tea-trayand walked into the kitchen with my ear as hot as fire and my temperto match, which was no wonder and no disgrace. Then she come intothe kitchen.'You go this day month, Miss,' she says, 'a-listening at doors whenyour betters is a-talking. I'll teach you!' says she, and back shegoes into the parlour.But I took no notice of what she said, for Master Harry, he hiredme, and I would take no notice from any one but him.Mr. Sigglesfield was a-coming pretty often just then, and Harry hecome to me one day, and he says--'It's all right, Polly, and I must tell you because you're the sameas myself, though I don't like to talk as if we was waiting for deadmen's shoes. Long may he wear them! But father's told me he has lefteverything to me, right and safe, though I am the second son. Mybrother John never did get on with father, but when all's mine,we'll see that John don't starve.'And that day week old master was a corpse.He was found dead in his bed, and the doctor said it was old age anda sudden breaking up.Mrs. Blake she cried and took on fearful, more than was right ornatural, and when the will was to be read in the parlour after thefuneral she come into the kitchen where I was sitting cryingtoo--not that I was fond of old master, but the kind of crying thereis at funerals is catching, I think, and besides, I was sorry forMaster Harry, who was a good son, and quite broken down.'You can come and hear the will read,' she says, 'for all yourimpudence, you hussy!'And I don't know why I went in after her impudence, but I did. Mr.Sigglesfield was there, and some of the relations, who had come along way to hear if they was to pull anything out of the fire; andMaster Harry was there, looking very pale through all hissun-brownness. And says he, 'I suppose the will's got to be read,but my father, he told me what I was to expect. It's all to me, andone hundred to Mrs. Blake, and five pounds apiece to the servants.'And Mr. Sigglesfield looks at him out of his ferret eyes, and saysvery quietly, 'I think the will had better be read, Mr. Alderton.''So I think,' says Mrs. Blake, tossing her head and rubbing her redeyes with her handkerchief at the same minute almost.And read it was, and all us people sat still as mice, listening tothe wonderful tale of it. For wonderful it was, though folded upvery curious and careful in a pack of lawyer's talk. And when it wasfinished, Master Harry stood up on his feet, and he said--'I don't understand your cursed lawyer's lingo. Does this mean thatmy father has left me fifty pounds, and has left the rest, stock,lock and barrel, to his wife Martha. Who in hell,' he says, 'is hiswife Martha?'And at that Mrs. Blake stood up and fetched a curtsy to the company.'That's me,' she said, 'by your leave; married two months comeTuesday, and here's my lines.'And there they were. There was no getting over them. Married at St.Mary Woolnoth, in London, by special licence.'O you wicked old Jezebel!' says Master Harry, shaking his fist ather; 'here's a fine end for a young man's hopes! Is it true?' sayshe, turning to the lawyer. And Mr. Sigglesfield shakes his head andsays--'I am afraid so, my poor fellow.''Jezebel, indeed!' cries Mrs. Blake. 'Out of my house, my younggamecock! Get out and crow on your own dunghill, if you can findone.'And Harry turned and went without a word. Then I slipped out too,and I snatched my old bonnet and shawl off their peg in the kitchen,and I ran down the lane after him.'Harry,' says I, and he turned and looked at me like somethingthat's hunted looks when it gets in a corner and turns on you. ThenI got up with him and caught hold of his arm with both my hands.'Never mind the dirty money,' says I. 'What's a bit of money,' Isays--'what is it, my dear, compared with true love? I'll work myfingers to the bone for you,' says I, 'and we're better off than herwhen all's said and done.''So we are, my girl,' says he; and the savage look went out of hisface, and he kissed me for the second time.Then we went home, arm-under-arm, to my mother's, and we told fatherand mother all about it; and mother made Harry up a bit of a bed onthe settle, and he stayed with us till he could pull himselftogether and see what was best to be done.
IIIOf course, our first thought was, 'Was she really married?' And itwas settled betwixt us that Harry should go up to London to thechurch named in her marriage lines and see if it was a real marriageor a make-up, like what you read of in the weekly papers. And Harrywent up, I settling to go the same day to fetch my clothes fromCharleston.So as soon as I had seen him off by the train, I walked up toCharleston, and father with me, to fetch my things.Mrs. Blake--for Mrs. Alderton I can't and won't call her--was out,and I was able to get my bits of things together comfortable withouther fussing and interfering. But there was a pair of scissors ofmine I couldn't find, and I looked for them high and low till Iremembered that I had lent them to Mrs. Blake the week before. So Iwent to her room to look for them, thinking no harm; and there,looking in her corner cupboard for my scissors, as I had a right todo, I found something else that I hadn't been looking for; and,right or wrong, I put that in my pocket and said nothing to father,and so we went home and sat down to wait for Harry.He came in by the last train, looking tired and gloomy.'They were married right enough,' he said. 'I've seen the register,and I've seen the clerk, and he remembers them being married.''Then you'd better have a bit of supper, my boy,' says mother, andtakes it smoking hot out of the oven.The next day when I had cleared away breakfast, I stood looking intothe street. It was a cold day, and a day when nobody would be out ofdoors that could anyways be in. I shouldn't have had my nose out ofthe door myself, except that I wanted to turn my back on other folksnow, and think of what I had found at Charleston, for I hadn't eventold Harry of it yet.And as I sat there, who should come along but the postman, as is mysecond cousin by the mother's side, and, 'Well, Polly,' says he,'times do change. They tell me young Alderton is biding with yourfolks now.''They tell you true for once,' says I.'Then 'tain't worth my while to be trapesing that mile and a quarterto leave a letter at the farm, I take it, especially as it's aregistered letter, and him not there to sign for it.'So I calls Harry out, who was smoking a pipe in the chimney-corner,as humped and gloomy as a fowl on a wet day, and he was as surprisedas me at getting a letter with a London postmark, and registeredtoo; and he was that surprised that he kept turning it over andover, and wondering who it could have come from, till we thought itwould be the best way to open and see, and we did.'Well, I'm blowed!' says Harry; and then he read it out to me. Itwas--'MY DEAR BROTHER,--I have seen in the papers the melancholy accountof our poor father's decease, and the disastrous circumstances ofhis second marriage; and the more I have thought of it, the more itseems to me that there was a screw loose somewhere. I had themisfortune, as you know, to offend him by my choice of a profession;but you will be glad to hear that I have risen from P.C. todetective-sergeant, and am doing well.'I have made a few inquiries about the movements of our lamentedfather and Mrs. Blake on the day when they were united, and if thesame will be agreeable to you, I will come down Sunday morning andtalk matters over with you.--I remain, my dear brother, youraffectionate brother,JOHN. 'P.S. I shall register the letter to make sure. Telegraph ifyou would like me to come.'Well, we telegraphed, though mother doesn't hold with such things,looking on it as flying in the face of Providence and what'snatural. But we got it all in, with the address, for sixpence, andHarry was as pleased as Punch to think of seeing his brother again.But mother said she doubted if it would bring a blessing. And on theSunday morning John came.He was a very agreeable, gentlemanly man, with such manners as youdon't see in Littlington--no, nor in Polegate neither,--and verychanged from the boy with the red cheeks as used to come past ourhouse on his way to school when he was very little.Harry met him at the station and brought him home, and when he comein he kissed me like a brother, and mother too, and he said--'The best good of trouble, ma'am, is to show you who your friendsreally are.''Ah,' says mother, 'I doubt if all the detectives in London, askingyour pardon, Master John, can set Master Harry up in his own again.But he's got a pair of hands, and so has my Polly, and he might havechosen worse, though I says it.'Now, after dinner, when I'd cleared away, nothing would serve but Imust go out with the two of them. So we went out, and walked up onto the Downs for quietness' sake, and it was a warm day and soft,though November, and we leaned against a grey gate and talked it allover.Then says Master John, 'Look here, Polly, we aren't to have anysecrets from you. There's no doubt they were married, but doesn't itseem to you rather strange that my poor old father should have beentaken off so suddenly after the wedding?''Yes,' I said, 'but the doctors seemed to understand all about it.'Then he said something about the doctors that it was just as wellthey weren't there to hear, and he went on--'Of course I thought at first they weren't married, so I set aboutfinding out what they did when they came to London; and I haven'tfound out what my father did, but I did pounce on a bit of news, andthat's that she wasn't with him the whole day. They came to CharingCross by the same train, but he wasn't with her when she went to getthat arsenic from the chemist's.''What!' says I, 'arsenic?''Yes,' says John, 'don't you get excited, my dear. I found that outby a piece of luck once as doesn't come to a man every day of theweek. A woman answering to her description went into a chemist'sshop, and the assistant gave the arsenic, a shilling's-worth it was,to kill rats with.''And God above only knows why they put such bits of fools into ashop to sell sixpenny-worths of death over the counter,' says Harry.'Now the question is: Was this woman answering to her descriptionreally Mrs. Blake or not?''It was Mrs. Blake,' says I, very short and sharp.'How do you know?' says John, shorter and sharper.Then I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out what I had found inMrs. Blake's corner cupboard, and John took it in his hand andlooked at it, and whistled long and low. It was a little whitepacket, and had been opened and the label torn across, but you couldread what was on it plain enough--'Arsenic--Poison,' and the name ofthe chemist in London.John's face was red as fire, like some men's is when they're goingin fighting, and my Harry's as white as milk, as some other men's isat such times. But as for me, I fell a-crying to think that anywoman could be so wicked, and him such a good master and so kind toher, and she having the sole care of him, helpless in her hands asthe new-born babe.And Harry, he patted me on the back, and told me to cheer up and notto cry, and to be a good girl; and presently, my handkerchief beingwet through, I stopped, and then John, he said--'We'll bring it home to her yet, Harry, my boy. I'll get an order tohave poor old father exhumed, and the doctors shall tell us how muchof the arsenic that cursed old hag gave him.'IV I don't know what you have to do to get an order to open up agrave and look at the poor dead person after it is once put away,but, whatever it was, John knew and did it.We didn't tell any one except our dear old parson who buried the oldman; and he listened to all we had to say, and shook his head andsaid, 'I think you are wrong--I think you are wrong,' but that wasonly natural, him not liking to see his good work disturbed. But hesaid he would be there.Now, no one was told of it, and yet it seemed as if every one formiles round knew more than we did about it.Afore the day come, old Mrs. Jezebel up at the farm, she met me oneday, and she says, 'You're a pretty puss, aren't you, howking up mypoor dear deceased husband's remains before they're hardly cold?Much good you'll do yourself. You'll end in the workhouse, my finemiss, and I shall come to see you as a lady visitor when you'redying.'I tried to get past her, but she wouldn't let me. 'I wish you joy o'that Harry, cursed young brute!' says she. 'It serves him right, itdoes, to marry a girl out of the gutter!'And with that--I couldn't help it--I fetched her a smack on the sideof the face with the flat of my hand as hard as I could, and boltedoff, her after me, and me being young and she stout she couldn'tkeep up with me. Gutter, indeed! and my father a respectablelabourer, and known far and wide.There were several strangers come the day the coffin was got up. Itwas a dreadful thing to me to see them digging, not to make a graveto be filled up, but to empty one. And there were a lot of peoplethere I didn't know; and the parson, and another parson, seemingly afriend of his, and every one as could get near looking on.They got the coffin up, and they took it to the room at the Star, atAlfreston, where inquests are held, and the doctors were there, andwe were all shut out. And Harry and John and I stood on the stairs.But parson, being a friend of the doctor's, he was let in, him andhis friend. And we heard voices and the squeak of the screws as theywas drawn out; and we heard the coffin lid being laid down, and thenthere was a hush, and some one spoke up very sharp inside, and wecouldn't hear what he said for the noise and confusion that camefrom every one speaking at once, and nineteen to the dozen itseemed.'What is it?' says Harry, trembling like a leaf: 'O my God! what isit? If they don't open the door afore long, by God, I shall burst itopen! He was murdered, he was! And if they wait much longer, thatwoman will have time to get away.'As he spoke, the door opened and parson came out, and his friendwith him.'These are the young men,' says our parson.'Well, then,' says parson number two, 'it's a good thing I heard ofthis, and came down--out of mere curiosity, I am ashamed to say--forthe man who is buried there is not the man whom I united in holymatrimony to Martha Blake two months ago last Tuesday.'We didn't understand.'But the poison?' says Harry.'She may have poisoned him,' said our parson, 'though I don't thinkit. But from what my friend here, the rector of St Mary Woolnoth,tells me, it is quite certain she never married him.''Then she's no right to anything?' said Harry.'But what about the will?' says I. But no one harkened to me.And then Harry says, 'If she poisoned him she will be off by now.Parson, will you come with me to keep my hands from violence, and mytongue from evil-speaking and slandering? for I must go home and seeif that woman is there yet.'And parson said he would; and it ended in us, all five of us, goingup together, the new parson walking by me and talking to me likesomebody out of the Bible, as it might be one of the disciples.I got to know him well afterwards, and he was the best man that evertrod shoe-leather.We all went up together to Charleston Farm, and in through the back,without knocking, and so to the parlour door. We knew she wassitting in the parlour, because the red firelight fell out throughthe window, and made a bright patch that we see before we see thehouse itself properly; and we went, as I say, quietly in through theback; and in the kitchen I said, 'Oh, let me tell her, for what shesaid to me.'And I was sorry the minute I'd said it, when I see the way thatclergyman from London looked at me; and we all went up to theparlour door, and Harry opened it as was his right.There was Mrs. Blake sitting in front of the fire. She had got onher widow's mourning, very smart and complete, with black crape, andher white cap; and she'd got the front of her dress folded back veryneat on her lap, and was toasting her legs, in her black-and-redchecked petticoat, and her feet in cashmere house-boots, very warmand cosy, on the brass fender; and she had got port wine and sherrywine in the two decanters that was never out of the glass-frontedchiffonier when master was alive; and there was something else in ablack bottle; and opposite her, in the best arm-chair that oldmaster had sat in to the last, was that lawyer, Sigglesfield fromLewes. And when we all came in, one after another, rather slow, andbringing the cold air with us, they sat in their chairs as if theyhad been struck, and looked at us.Harry and John was in front, as was right; and in the dusk theycould hardly see who was behind.'And what do you want, young men?' says Mrs. Blake, standing up inher crape, and her white cap, and looking very handsome, Harry saidafterwards, though, for my part, I never could see it; and, as shestood up, she caught sight of the clergyman from London, and sheshrank back into her chair and covered her face with her hands; andthe clergyman stepped into the room, none of us having the leastidea of what he was going to say, and said he--'That's the woman that I married on the 7th; and that's the man Imarried her to!' said he, pointing to Sigglesfield, who seemed toturn twice as small, and his ferret eyes no better than button-holeslits.'That!' said our parson; 'why, that's Mr. Sigglesfield, thesolicitor from Lewes.''Then the lady opposite is Mrs. Sigglesfield, that's all,' said theparson from London.'What I want to know,' says Harry, 'is--is this my house or hers?It's plain she wasn't my father's wife. But yet he left it to her inthe will.''Slowly, old boy!' said John; 'gently does it. How could he haveleft anything in a will to his wife when he hadn't got any wife?Why, that fellow there---'But here Mrs. Blake got on her feet, and I must say for the woman,if she hadn't got anything else she had got pluck.'The game's up!' she says. 'It was well played, too, though I saysit. And you, you old fool!' she says to the parson, 'you have oftendrunk tea with me, and gone away thinking how well-mannered I was,and what a nice woman Mrs. Blake was, and how well she knew herplace, after you had chatted over half your parish with me. I knowyou are the curiousest man in it, and as you and me is old friends,I don't mind owning up just to please you. It'll save a lot of timeand a lot of money.''It's my duty to warn you,' said John, 'that anything you say may beused against you.''Used against a fiddlestick end!' said Mrs. Blake. 'I married RobertSigglesfield in the name of William Alderton, and he sittingtrembling there, like a shrimp half boiled! He got ready the kind ofwill we wanted instead of the one the old man meant, and gave it tothe old man to sign, and he signed it right enough.''And what about that arsenic,' says I,--'that arsenic I found inyour corner cupboard?''Oh, it was you took it, was it? You little silly, my neck's toohandsome for me to do anything to put a rope round it. Do yousuppose I've kept my complexion to my age with nothing but coldwater, you little cat?''And the other will,' says Harry, 'that my father meant to sign?''I'll get you that,' says Mrs. Blake. 'It's no use bearing malicenow all's said and done.'And she goes upstairs to get it, and, if you'll believe me, we werefools enough to let her go; and we waited like lambs for her to comeback, which being a woman with her wits about her, and no fool, shenaturally never did; and by the time we had woke up to our sevensenses, she was far enough away, and we never saw her again. Wedidn't try too much. But we had the law of that Sigglesfield, and itwas fourteen years' penal.And the will was never found--I expect Mrs. Blake had burnt it,--sothe farm came to John, and what else there was to Harry, accordingto the terms of the will the old man had made when his wife wasalive, afore John had joined the force. And Harry and John was thatpleased to be together again that they couldn't make up their mindsto part; so they farm the place together to this day.And if Harry has prospered, and John too, it's no more than theydeserve, and a blessing on brotherly love, as mother says. And if mydear children are the finest anywhere on the South Downs, that's bythe blessing of God too, I suppose, and it doesn't become me to sayso.
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