“Is not fit to make love to you,” replied I.
“Who is not fit company for me,” replied Mary. “I want no more love from you at present. The fact is that father spends all the time he can spare from the wherry at the ale-house, smoking; and it’s very dull for me, and having nothing to do, I look out of the window, and make faces at the young men as they pass by, just to amuse myself. Now, there was no great harm in that a year or two ago; but now, you know, Jacob—”
“Well now, what then?”
“O, I’m bigger, that’s all? and what might be called sauciness in a girl may be thought something more of in a young woman. So I’ve been obliged to leave it off; but being obliged to remain home, with nobody to talk to, I never was so glad as when I heard that you were to come; so you see, Jacob, we must be friends. I daren’t quarrel with you long, although I shall sometimes, just for variety, and to have the pleasure of making it up again. Do you hear me—or what are you thinking of?”
“I’m thinking that you’re a very odd girl.”
“I dare say that I am, but how can I help that? Mother died when I was five years old, and father couldn’t afford to put me out, so he used to lock me in all day till he came home from the river; and it was not till I was seven years old, and of some use, that the door was left open. I never shall forget the day when he told me that in future he should trust me, and leave the door open. I thought I was quite a woman, and have thought so ever since. I recollect that I often peeped out, and longed to run about the world; but I went two or three yards from the door, and felt so frightened, that I ran back as fast as I could. Since that I have seldom quitted the house for an hour, and never have been out of Fulham.”
“Then you have never been at school?”
“O, no—never. I often wish that I had. I used to see the little girls coming home, as they passed our door, so merrily, with their bags from the school-house; and I’m sure, if it were only to have the pleasure of going there and back again for the sake of the run, I’d have worked hard, if for nothing else.”
“Would you like to learn to read and write?”
“Will you teach me?” replied Mary, taking me by the arm, and looking me earnestly in the face.