How empty the House seemed! For, though a Person may take no active Part in its Business, yet a Sense of their Nearness is accompanied by a constant Feeling of Companionship, such as I think we might feel with regard to our Heavenly Father if we would look into the Fact of His being constantly about us a little more narrowly. Excellent Master Blower was a Tower of Strength to us under this Bereavement; knowing how to comfort a Man better than I could, and possessed of more Calmness and Composedness than I could be expected to have, though he said his Heart bled for us all the while. But he set before us the Blessedness of my Mother in her glorified State so strongly, that it was impossible not to feel that our Loss was her Gain.
While the House was yet darkened, I heard a hushed Voice that had become strange to my Ears of late, saying to my Father in the next Room, “I am sure, Uncle, if you would look upon it as a Mark of Respect.” ... And my Father, in Tears, made Answer to him, “I should, Mark, I should! I shall be glad for you to accompany us to the Grave; for, indeed, my Boy, she was very kindly affectioned towards you.”
And then cried again; and, I think, Mark cried too. It was Balm to my Heart to think he was going to the Funeral. An ill-advised Deed had in the first Instance banished him from us, and, in Time, he had not only become reconciled to his Banishment, but, from what I made out of the Report of others, had learnt to rejoice in it. The first Signal of a better Frame was his returning to us, which cost him an Effort, and then repaid itself. Master Blower called it Metanoia, whatever that meant.
Violet was very kind to me. All her old Affection for me now returned; and she would bring her Work and sit with me for Hours. Also the Benskins and Braidfoots were kind in their Way, though after a homely Fashion. But one that better understood comforting was nearer at Hand. One Evening, I heard Master Blower, as he met my Father on the Stairs, say, “Why, old Friend, we have lived many a Year under the same Roof, and have never broken Bread together yet! Bring Cherry with you, and sup with me to-night!”
My disconsolate Father, being taken by Surprise, had no Power to refuse the Honour; Dolly was sent for a Crab, and we spent a very peaceful and pleasant Evening together, not ended without Prayer. As we left, the kind Man said, “Well, Friend, since you won’t ask me, I’ll ask myself to sup to-morrow Night with you.” And so he did; and many a rich and learned Man might have envied us the discreet and pleasant Guest that honoured our poor Table. From that Time, we thus spent two Evenings together every Week.
By this Time my Friend Kitty had taken upon her all the Importance of a well-to-do Tradesman’s Wife, which fitted her as well as one of her Husband’s best Pair of Gloves. Instead of Stuff and Dimity, flowered Chintz and even Silk was now the Wear! looped well up, too, to shew the grass-green quilted Petticoat and clocked Stockings. Nothing, Master Braidfoot thought, was too good for her. And instead of its being “good Husband,” “honoured Master Braidfoot,” so bashfully spoken, as at first, now it was “dear Hugh,” “sweet Hugh,” or “Hugh” by itself alone. And happy, without a Cloud, would the Lives of this worthy Couple have been but for the Hinderances of Mistress Armytage. Now it was her Parsimony in Something her Son-in-Law could well afford and desired to have; now her Expensiveness in Something for which she dared not give him the Bill; and then he would find it out, and rate her, half in Sport, and then she would take Offence in right Earnest. Then Kitty would cry, and then her Mother would say she knew she was only in the Way, and would go off for a While to her old Quarters. When she got there, her Tongue lay not still, like a good House-dog in its Kennel, but must needs yap, yap, like a little Terrier, that flies at every Comer; and, to every Neighbour along the Borough it was, “Oh, you know not what a Turk...!”—“My poor, poor Daughter!”—“Temper of an Angel!”—“Will wear her out at last!”—“Never know a Man before he’s married!”—“Peace and Poverty for my Money” ... and such-like.
Meanwhile, Hugh and Kitty were as merry as Crickets in their own Chimney-corner, little guessing or caring what an ill Report of their Fireside was spreading all along Southwark: and if Hugh met e’er a Neighbour’s Wife that gave him a dark Look, as much as to say, “Ah! for all your blythe Face, I know what I know!” all he did was to cry, “Neighbour, how do you do?” in a jovial Voice that rang along the Street. Thus the Husband and Wife would go on, mighty comfortable by themselves, till some favourite Dish, perhaps, of Mistress Armytage’s would be set on Table, and Kitty, with a Tear in her Eye, would say, “Poor, dear Mother is so fond of a roast Pig.” “Set it down before the Fire again, then,” says Hugh, “while I run and fetch the old Gentlewoman.... I’ll be back in five Minutes.”—And, in about a Quarter of an Hour, sure enough, he would return with the Widow on his Arm, and there would be a little kissing and crying, and then all would sit down in high Good-humour with one another, and Things would go on quietly till Hugh and his Mother-in-Law quarrelled again.
About this Time, dear, good Master Blower, who had hitherto led a removed Life among us, hidden and yet known, ministering and being ministered unto by many of his old Flock on the Sly, did by some Indiscretion or Misadventure provoke the Notice of the Powers then riding paramount, and, coming Home to us in great Perturbation one Day, told us he must at once take Ship to Holland in a Vessel going down the River the next Morning. This was greatly to the Sorrow of my Father and myself; and some Tears of mine fell on his little Packet of clean Linen as I made it up for him; and I thought it no Wrong to slip into the easy Slippers I knew he would not fail to take out at the Journey’s End, a little Purse with seven Gold Caroluses in it, that I had long been hoarding for some good Use. The Wind was light, but yet fair: there was a Remedy against Sea-sickness in my Father’s Shop-window that I had not much Faith in, it had lain so long in the Sun, even supposing there ever were any Virtue in it; however, I thought there could be no Harm in just sewing it in the Lining of his Coat, according to the Directions printed ... at least, so I thought at the Time, but afterwards I observed I had made a Mistake, but it did no Harm, if no Good. And Father gave him a Bottle of Cognac Brandy, which really had some Virtue in it, so we did for him what we could, one Way or another. And he packed up what few Papers he could carry, and burned others, and locked up the rest, leaving them and his Books in my Charge, with his Blessing. And so the good Man went.
Often afterwards, when I was setting his Rooms in Order, and dusting his Books, I would stand, with my Duster in my Hand, looking at the Table at which he used to write, and the old Arm-chair in which he used to sit, and fall into a Kind of Muse, till I almost seemed to see his large, quiet, brown Eyes, that were set so far under the Shadow of his Brows, and seemed lighted up, somehow, from within, looking up at me, and his pleasant Face smiling at me, (he had a very sweet Smile, had Master Blower,) and his pleasant Voice saying, “Well, Cherry, is it Eating-time again, already?”