I thereupon put the matter in the right view before her, in the friendliest and most comforting words I could find. My principles, in regard to the other sex, are, as you may have noticed, very severe. But somehow or other, when I come face to face with the women, my practice (I own) is not conformable.
“Mr. Franklin is very kind and considerate. Please to thank him.” That was all the answer she made me.
My daughter had already noticed that Rosanna went about her work like a woman in a dream. I now added to this observation, that she also listened and spoke like a woman in a dream. I doubted if her mind was in a fit condition to take in what I had said to her.
“Are you quite sure, Rosanna, that you understand me?” I asked.
“Quite sure.”
She echoed me, not like a living woman, but like a creature moved by machinery. She went on sweeping all the time. I took away the broom as gently and as kindly as I could.
“Come, come, my girl!” I said, “this is not like yourself. You have got something on your mind. I’m your friend—and I’ll stand your friend, even if you have done wrong. Make a clean breast of it, Rosanna—make a clean breast of it!”
The time had been, when my speaking to her in that way would have brought the tears into her eyes. I could see no change in them now.
“Yes,” she said, “I’ll make a clean breast of it.”
“To my lady?” I asked.