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 little Parlour beyond. Here I again came upon Kitty and Hugh Braidfoot: 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, Cherry, 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 might have been sooner brought about; however, you and I have known her longer than Yesterday—she’s Kitty’s Mother; and enough’s said!”
I wished him Joy, and said I thought he and Kitty 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 Armytage,” said I. “I’ll call Kitty down,” said he; and going to the Stair-foot, he called “Kitty! Kitty!” 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 Armytage 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 Ways, Cherry, we’ll walk to the Bridge 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, Cherry, 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 Violet: that would not do—then, Kitty 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 Violet was put in the Shade, and Kitty’s 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; 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.”
Then, turning to a more agreeable Subject, he sang Kitty’s 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 Blenkinsops had, but I fancy ’twill be a cheerfuller Dinner.”
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 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.
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 Armytage said that Hugh Braidfoot 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 bitter in Digestion; I mean, to Master Braidfoot when he came to pay the Bills. And then Mistress Armytage, ashamed of having exceeded becoming Limits, went about to several of the Tradesmen, who were Hugh Braidfoot’s 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 Armytage got into bad Odour, and Kitty came in for her Share, and shed her first Tears after Marriage upon it, which I wish had been her last. However, Master Braidfoot 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.
CHAPTER VI
Metanoia
WHEN I see what a little Way the Solemnisation of Matrimony in the Common Prayer Book lies from the Burial-service for the Dead, (only separated by the Order for the Visitation of the Sick,) it makes me think how sometimes in actual Life Marriages and Funerals seem to tread upon the Heels of one another. Scarce were the Bills for Master Braidfoot’s Wedding-dinner paid, when my dear Mother, who had been fast but gently sinking, departed this Life without a Sigh. I had left her much as usual the Night before; but in the Morning was aware of a grey Shadow over her Face, unlike Anything I had yet seen, and impossible to describe, that made me sensible of the Presence of Death. My Father supported her in his Arms, Master Blower prayed aloud beside her, I bathed her Face with Vinegar, and Dolly ran for the Doctor; but just as he crossed our Threshold, she gently breathed her last.