CHAPTER III
Result of the Water-Party.
THE only Person in the Boat, who was left for the Boatman to save, was Mistress Glossop, the Widow of a Cheapside Hairdresser in a much larger Way of Business than my Father, with whom we were on very intimate Terms. She was a Woman of about forty-five, tall, bulky, and with a very heated Face, which was the Result of Intemperance, not in drinking, but eating, as I have often heard her acknowledge. She was fond of Everything nice, and had a Habit of saying, “Oh, I can’t resist this!” “I never can resist that!” which used to disgust me with her; and make me ready to say, “More Shame for you if you cannot.” She and her Husband had always been well to do; and now she was Mistress of a large Business, with Court-patronage, such as it was, and a Foreman and three ’Prentices under her; besides keeping a professed Cook, Housemaid, and Scullion. And whereas she and Master Glossop had always been Companions and Gossips of my Father and Mother, whose Ages were suitable to them, yet, now she had cast off her Weeds, she went mighty fine; and Mark, who thought her sufficiently unagreeable, though he often went on Errands to her, said he was sure she was casting about for a second. To a Woman of her Habit, the Ducking she got was unlikely to be of much Good; and as for her flame-coloured Mantua, and pea-green Mantle, they were ruined outright: however, she was very merry about it, and as we were all engaged to sup with her, would hear of no excuse. Howbeit, my Mother was too wet for doing Anything but going Home and to Bed: my Father would not leave her; Hugh Braidfoot said he would join us, but did not; and the End was, that Mark and I, when we had dressed ourselves afresh and kept our Engagement, found Nobody to meet us but some Cheapside Shop-keepers who had not been on the Water. And though they made very merry, and though there were Lobsters, and Pound-cake, and Ducks, and green Peas, and fried Plum-pudding, and Gooseberry Pie, and other Delicacies too numerous to mention, I had no Mind to eat, but sat shivering, and scorching, and thinking of the Water closing over me; and at length, before any one else was ready to leave, begged Mistress Glossop to let me wish her Good-night.
Mark, though he was in high Spirits, came away with me, and very kindly said he feared I was the worse for the Accident. And though he had been very talkative at the Supper-table, yet as soon as we got into the open Air we became as quiet as two Judges, and walked Home scarcely speaking a Word, till we came to that last one, “Good-night.”
I had taken Cold, which, with a good deal of Fever attending it, made me very poorly for some Days; and my dear Mother, who did not show it so much at first, had in fact taken her Death-chill, though we knew it not till long afterwards. Meantime, she kept about; I seeming at first the worst of the two, and sitting by the Fire in a Cloke, very chilly, though ’twas close upon the Dog-days. Violet Armytage came over the Way to see me; and saith she, “Dear Cherry, how well Mark behaved! I shall think the better of him for it as long as I live!”
I felt I should do so too, but had no Mind to speak much about it; and, my Cold being heavy, and making me indisposed to talk, she soon went away. Almost daily, however, she came across; and, when she did not, Mark went at her Desire to tell her how I was.
And so I got well; and just as I was fit for going out again, my dear Mother’s Illness became so apparent that I kept wholly to the House. At first we thought it troublesome rather than dangerous, and were not frightened; and, though I sat by her Bed almost all Day long, she would sometimes send me down to work below and keep an Eye to the House. Her Illness subdued me a good deal; and Mark was become unwontedly gentle and silent; so that, though we scarce saw each other save at Meals, we said little; and yet I never felt him to be better Company.
Violet sent me Word that unusual Press of Business in the Shop kept her from coming over, but begged I would never let a Day pass without sending her Word how my Mother was; which I did, though thinking, now and then, she might have just run over, if but for a Minute.
One sultry Evening, my Mother being ready to compose herself to Sleep, bade me sit below till she rang for me, as she was sure the Room must be warm and close. It was so, in fact, and I was feeling a little faint, therefore was glad to sit at the open Casement of our Parlour behind the Shop. The Business of the Day was done; my Father was gossiping with Hugh Braidfoot next Door; there was a pleasing Confusion of distant Sounds from the City and along the Water; Boatmen calling “Yo, heave ho,” and singing Snatches of Boat-songs; the Water trembling and murmuring among the Arches, and the Evening Air feeling soft and reviving.