Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Mothers and sons -- Fiction; Religious fiction; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction
Sally Tells of Her Sweethearts, and Discourses on the Duties of Life
Sally and Miss Benson took it in turns to sit up, or rather, they
took it in turns to nod by the fire; for if Ruth was awake she lay
very still in the moonlight calm of her sick bed. That time resembled
a beautiful August evening, such as I have seen. The white, snowy
rolling mist covers up under its great sheet all trees and meadows,
and tokens of earth; but it cannot rise high enough to shut out the
heavens, which on such nights seem bending very near, and to be the
only real and present objects; and so near, so real and present, did
heaven, and eternity, and God seem to Ruth, as she lay encircling her
mysterious holy child.
One night Sally found out she was not asleep.
"I'm a rare hand at talking folks to sleep," said she. "I'll try on
thee, for thou must get strength by sleeping and eating. What must
I talk to thee about, I wonder. Shall I tell thee a love story or a
fairy story, such as I've telled Master Thurstan many a time and many
a time, for all his father set his face again fairies, and called it
vain talking; or shall I tell you the dinner I once cooked, when Mr
Harding, as was Miss Faith's sweetheart, came unlooked for, and we'd
nought in the house but a neck of mutton, out of which I made seven
dishes, all with a different name?"
"Who was Mr Harding?" asked Ruth.
"Oh, he was a grand gentleman from Lunnon, as had seen Miss Faith,
and been struck by her pretty looks when she was out on a visit, and
came here to ask her to marry him. She said, 'No, she would never
leave Master Thurstan, as could never marry;' but she pined a deal
at after he went away. She kept up afore Master Thurstan, but I seed
her fretting, though I never let on that I did, for I thought she'd
soonest get over it and be thankful at after she'd the strength to
do right. However, I've no business to be talking of Miss Benson's
concerns. I'll tell you of my own sweethearts and welcome, or I'll
tell you of the dinner, which was the grandest thing I ever did in my
life, but I thought a Lunnoner should never think country folks knew
nothing; and, my word! I puzzled him with his dinner. I'm doubting
whether to this day he knows whether what he was eating was fish,
flesh, or fowl. Shall I tell you how I managed?"
But Ruth said she would rather hear about Sally's sweethearts, much
to the disappointment of the latter, who considered the dinner by far
the greatest achievement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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