‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Bob, all impatience; for the old lady, although much agitated, spoke with the most tantalising deliberation, as old ladies often do. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Left my home, Mr. Sawyer, three days ago, on a pretended visit to my sister, another aunt of hers, who keeps the large boarding-school, just beyond the third mile-stone, where there is a very large laburnum-tree and an oak gate,’ said the old lady, stopping in this place to dry her eyes.
‘Oh, devil take the laburnum-tree, ma’am!’ said Bob, quite forgetting his professional dignity in his anxiety. ‘Get on a little faster; put a little more steam on, ma’am, pray.’
‘This morning,’ said the old lady slowly—‘this morning, she—’
‘She came back, ma’am, I suppose,’ said Bob, with great animation. ‘Did she come back?’
‘No, she did not; she wrote,’ replied the old lady.
‘What did she say?’ inquired Bob eagerly.
‘She said, Mr. Sawyer,’ replied the old lady—‘and it is this I want to prepare Benjamin’s mind for, gently and by degrees; she said that she was—I have got the letter in my pocket, Mr. Sawyer, but my glasses are in the carriage, and I should only waste your time if I attempted to point out the passage to you, without them; she said, in short, Mr. Sawyer, that she was married.’
What!’ said, or rather shouted, Mr. Bob Sawyer.
‘Married,’ repeated the old lady.