“Nor will she, I'll be sworn,” says he, shaken with laughter.
“'Ods, have you no invention? Egad, you must feign sleep, and seize her unawares.”
I did not inform his Lordship how excellent this plan seemed to me.
“And I possessed the love of such a woman, Richard,” he said, in another tone, “I think I should die of happiness. She will never tell you how these weeks past she has scarce left your side. The threats combined of her mother and the doctor, and Charles and me, would not induce her to take any sleep. And time and time have I walked from here to Brook Street without recognizing a step of the way, lifted clear out of myself by the sight of her devotion.”
What was my life, indeed, that such a blessing should come into it!
“When the crash came,” he continued, “'twas she took command, and 'tis God's pity she had not done so long before. Mr. Marmaduke was pushed to the bottom of the family, where he belongs, and was given only snuff-money. She would give him no opportunity to contract another debt, and even charged Charles and me to loan him nothing. Nor would she receive aught from us, but” (he glanced at me uneasily)—“but she and Mrs. Manners must take to cooking delicacies—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” I faltered.
“What! has the puppy told you?” cried he.
I nodded. “He was in here this morning, with his woes.”
“And did he speak of the bargain he tried to make with our old friend, his Grace of Chartersea?”