“No, I did not think of being afraid, exactly; but I wanted to be out of your way and the children’s; and, for my own part, I should have been very glad to be at rest.”
After a long pause, John resumed.
“You said you tried three times to leave it off. Do you think you could try again?”
“No, John, I do not think I could.”
“Not for my sake,—as you say I drove you into it last time? Not for your own sake? for nobody knows but ourselves, I dare say. I have never breathed it, and Mary——”
“O, Mary has vexed me many a time,—taking such pains, and having so many reasons and excuses with the neighbours. Why,—do you suppose I never met anybody? And then there was the night that Mrs. Skipper, of all people in the world, gave me her arm. I was forced to take it, but——”
“Mrs. Skipper! Really! She never breathed a word. Depend upon it, she never told any body.”
“If she did not, I am sure I have told plenty of people myself: so don’t say any more about it, John.”
“I was just going to say, that now is the time for trying. We are going to have better living, I hope, which is what you will want; and I am sure Mary and I do not care what there is for us, if we could see you recover. If you will only give us the word, we will watch and watch, night and day; and you shall have all manner of help, and comfort, and no more thoughts of cruel joking or of Mrs. Skipper. O, Margaret, try!”
“I am almost sure I cannot,” muttered the poor woman; “but I will just try.”