'What do you think of all this, Mr.Craggs?' said Snitchey.
Mr.Craggs shook his head.
'It was our opinion, on the day when that release was executed, that there was something curious in the parting of that pair; Irecollect,' said Snitchey.
'It was,' said Mr.Craggs.
'Perhaps he deceives himself altogether,' pursued Mr.Snitchey, locking up the fireproof box, and putting it away; 'or, if he don't, a little bit of fickleness and perfidy is not a miracle, Mr.
Craggs.And yet I thought that pretty face was very true.Ithought,' said Mr.Snitchey, putting on his great-coat (for the weather was very cold), drawing on his gloves, and snuffing out one candle, 'that I had even seen her character becoming stronger and more resolved of late.More like her sister's.'
'Mrs.Craggs was of the same opinion,' returned Craggs.
'I'd really give a trifle to-night,' observed Mr.Snitchey, who was a good-natured man, 'if I could believe that Mr.Warden was reckoning without his host; but, light-headed, capricious, and unballasted as he is, he knows something of the world and its people (he ought to, for he has bought what he does know, dear enough); and I can't quite think that.We had better not interfere: we can do nothing, Mr.Craggs, but keep quiet.'
'Nothing,' returned Craggs.
'Our friend the Doctor makes light of such things,' said Mr.
Snitchey, shaking his head.'I hope he mayn't stand in need of his philosophy.Our friend Alfred talks of the battle of life,' he shook his head again, 'I hope he mayn't be cut down early in the day.Have you got your hat, Mr.Craggs? I am going to put the other candle out.' Mr.Craggs replying in the affirmative, Mr.
Snitchey suited the action to the word, and they groped their way out of the council-chamber, now dark as the subject, or the law in general.
My story passes to a quiet little study, where, on that same night, the sisters and the hale old Doctor sat by a cheerful fireside.
Grace was working at her needle.Marion read aloud from a book before her.The Doctor, in his dressing-gown and slippers, with his feet spread out upon the warm rug, leaned back in his easy-chair, and listened to the book, and looked upon his daughters.
They were very beautiful to look upon.Two better faces for a fireside, never made a fireside bright and sacred.Something of the difference between them had been softened down in three years'
time; and enthroned upon the clear brow of the younger sister, looking through her eyes, and thrilling in her voice, was the same earnest nature that her own motherless youth had ripened in the elder sister long ago.But she still appeared at once the lovelier and weaker of the two; still seemed to rest her head upon her sister's breast, and put her trust in her, and look into her eyes for counsel and reliance.Those loving eyes, so calm, serene, and cheerful, as of old.
'"And being in her own home,"' read Marion, from the book; '"her home made exquisitely dear by these remembrances, she now began to know that the great trial of her heart must soon come on, and could not be delayed.O Home, our comforter and friend when others fall away, to part with whom, at any step between the cradle and the grave"'-'Marion, my love!' said Grace.
'Why, Puss!' exclaimed her father, 'what's the matter?'
She put her hand upon the hand her sister stretched towards her, and read on; her voice still faltering and trembling, though she made an effort to command it when thus interrupted.
'"To part with whom, at any step between the cradle and the grave, is always sorrowful.O Home, so true to us, so often slighted in return, be lenient to them that turn away from thee, and do not haunt their erring footsteps too reproachfully! Let no kind looks, no well-remembered smiles, be seen upon thy phantom face.Let no ray of affection, welcome, gentleness, forbearance, cordiality, shine from thy white head.Let no old loving word, or tone, rise up in judgment against thy deserter; but if thou canst look harshly and severely, do, in mercy to the Penitent!"'
'Dear Marion, read no more to-night,' said Grace for she was weeping.
'I cannot,' she replied, and closed the book.'The words seem all on fire!'
The Doctor was amused at this; and laughed as he patted her on the head.
'What! overcome by a story-book!' said Doctor Jeddler.'Print and paper! Well, well, it's all one.It's as rational to make a serious matter of print and paper as of anything else.But, dry your eyes, love, dry your eyes.I dare say the heroine has got home again long ago, and made it up all round - and if she hasn't, a real home is only four walls; and a fictitious one, mere rags and ink.What's the matter now?'
'It's only me, Mister,' said Clemency, putting in her head at the door.
'And what's the matter with YOU?' said the Doctor.
'Oh, bless you, nothing an't the matter with me,' returned Clemency - and truly too, to judge from her well-soaped face, in which there gleamed as usual the very soul of good-humour, which, ungainly as she was, made her quite engaging.Abrasions on the elbows are not generally understood, it is true, to range within that class of personal charms called beauty-spots.But, it is better, going through the world, to have the arms chafed in that narrow passage, than the temper: and Clemency's was sound and whole as any beauty's in the land.
'Nothing an't the matter with me,' said Clemency, entering, 'but -come a little closer, Mister.'
The Doctor, in some astonishment, complied with this invitation.
'You said I wasn't to give you one before them, you know,' said Clemency.
