[ CHAPTER XXVII]
The world is ashamed of being virtuous——My uncle Toby knew little of the world; and therefore when he felt he was in love with widow Wadman, he had no conception that the thing was any more to be made a mystery of, than if Mrs. Wadman had given him a cut with a gap’d knife across his finger: Had it been otherwise——yet as he ever look’d upon Trim as a humble friend; and saw fresh reasons every day of his life, to treat him as such——it would have made no variation in the manner in which he informed him of the affair.
“I am in love, corporal!” quoth my uncle Toby.
[ CHAPTER XXVIII]
In love!——said the corporal—your honour was very well the day before yesterday, when I was telling your honour the story of the King of Bohemia—Bohemia! said my uncle Toby - - - - musing a long time - - - What became of that story, Trim?
—We lost it, an’ please your honour, somehow betwixt us—but your honour was as free from love then, as I am——’twas just whilst thou went’st off with the wheel-barrow——with Mrs. Wadman, quoth my uncle Toby——She has left a ball here—added my uncle Toby—pointing to his breast——
——She can no more, an’ please your honour, stand a siege, than she can fly—cried the corporal——
——But as we are neighbours, Trim,—the best way I think is to let her know it civilly first—quoth my uncle Toby.
Now if I might presume, said the corporal, to differ from your honour——
—Why else do I talk to thee, Trim? said my uncle Toby, mildly——