Gatty and I still slept together; and, as we were undressing, she said, "I fear your Sister thought me affected to-night for crying at that Death-Bed Scene; she gave me such a Look! Indeed I could not help it; I have witnessed one so much like it; and my Spirits are yet tender."
I said, "Pray do not think of it again—Prudence has that sharp Look sometimes, and seems just now under some little Misapprehension; but in the Main, there cannot be a better Creature. She has not seen so much of you as I have, but yet, I am sure she likes you, and admires you too."
"Nobody can do that," says Gatty; "but I don't want to be admired, though I own it is pleasant to me to be liked, and not to be misapprehended."
As she lay down, she said sighing, "Most likely, this is the last Night I shall pass in this dear little Bed."
I said, "Shall you be sorry to leave us?"
"To be sure I shall!" cried she; "you have been Kindness itself to me; even my Illness was solaced, and my Recovery has been very pleasant; but my Life in Servitude is anything but comfortable. I have heard or read a Line somewhere:
'And Betty's praised for Labours not her own.'"
"In my Case, the Reading might be—
'And Gatty's blamed for Blunders not her own.'"
"It cannot be helped. Good Night!"