Women in charitable work -- England -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
After a great deal of consultation, it was decided that during Will's
first voyage after their wedding Bet was to remain in Paradise Row with
Mother Bunch. This worthy Irishwoman took an enormous fancy to Will,
clapping him on the back, cheering him on with his wooing, and assuring
him that that "purty darling blossom of a wife of his" should be her
first care, day and night, all the time the waves were washing under
him; "and not a hair of her head should be hurt," said Mother
Bunch--"and them mischeevous little varmints of hers shall come to no
harm, naythur,--oh, will ye then, ye rogues! Why then 'tis you that
bates the heart out of Molly O'Flaherty entirely."
With that she gave chase to the captain and general, who were dodging
round the corner, and making anything but polite faces at her.
It is a very trite proverb, and a sadly worn truth, exemplified over
and over again at all times and seasons, and in all places of the
earth, that the course of true love never ran smooth; and alas!
notwithstanding all the pleasant preparations being made for them,
these two poor lovers were no exception to the rule.
Bet and Will both had enemies, and these enemies were neither inactive
nor inclined to forbear from mischief.
On the very day after her engagement Bet came across her father--she
came upon him suddenly, and as if by accident; but in truth he had been
looking out for her, as he was intensely curious to know how the
starving process suggested by Dent was answering, and how soon, in
consequence, he might hope to receive Dent's promised gold. No one knew
better than Granger the depressing effects of starvation; he had gone
through them himself, and was therefore an excellent judge. He expected
to see Bet with her hair untidy, her eyes red and dull, and her face
heavy,--he expected to be greeted with a torrent of withering anger and
sarcasm, or to be assailed by a burst of violent woman's tears and
reproaches. Instead of this state of things he saw coming to meet him a
trim lass, dressed with remarkable neatness--her hair in a great
shining coronet on her head, her eyes bright and yet soft, and a happy
smile playing about her lips. Her face changed when she saw him, but it
did not get angry, only a little pale, and the eyes took an expression
of sadness.
"It weren't worth your while father?' she said. It were a mean, mean
trick to play. It were a stab in the dark, father, and it took my
breath away for a time, and I were mad with ye. Yes, Father--I was
'most quite mad in earnest; and ef I had met you last night, maybe I'd
ha' done you an injury. I can't rightly say, only that I know that my
brain was going round, and I was fairly choking with rage--it was as if
you had put a devil into me, father."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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