“Well!” said Sens, with a long sigh, “I reckon, if I’m left to myself, I sha’n’t do nought but stumble. I always was a poor creature; Benedick had to do no end o’ matters for me: and I’m poorer than ever now he’s gone, so I think the Lord’ll scarce forget me; but seems somehow as I can’t take no comfort in it.”
“‘Blessed are the poor in spirit!’” said Alice softly. “The ‘God of all comfort,’ Sens, is better than all His comforts.”
Chapter Twenty Eight.
Behind the arras.
“You had best make up your mind, Grena, whilst you yet may. This may be the last chance to get away hence that you shall have afore—” Mr Roberts hesitated; but his meaning was clear enough. “It doth seem me, now we have this opportunity through Master Laxton’s journey, it were well-nigh a sin to miss it. He is a sober, worthy man, and kindly belike; he should take good care of you; and going so nigh to Shardeford, he could drop you well-nigh at your mother’s gates. Now I pray you, Grena, be ruled by me, and settle it that you shall go without delay. He cannot wait beyond to-morrow to set forth.”
“I grant it all, Tom, and I thank you truly for your brotherly care. But it alway comes to the same end, whensoever I meditate thereon: I cannot leave you and Gertrude.”
“But wherefore no, Grena? Surely we should miss your good company, right truly: but to know that you were safe were compensation enough for that. True should be old enough to keep the house—there be many housewives younger—or if no; surely the old servants can go on as they are used, without your oversight. Margery and Osmund, at least—”
“They lack not my oversight, and assuredly not Gertrude’s. But you would miss me, Tom: and I could not be happy touching True.”