Christmas stories, English; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Holidays -- Fiction
"So, let her go!" pursued the Carrier. "Go, with my blessing for the
many happy hours she has given me, and my forgiveness for any pang she
has caused me. Let her go, and have the peace of mind I wish her! She'll
never hate me. She'll learn to like me better when I'm not a drag upon
her, and she wears the chain I have riveted more lightly. This is the
day on which I took her, with so little thought for her enjoyment, from
her home. To-day she shall return to it, and I will trouble her no more.
Her father and mother will be here to-day--we had made a little plan for
keeping it together--and they shall take her home. I can trust her
there, or anywhere. She leaves me without blame, and she will live so I
am sure. If I should die--I may perhaps while she is still young; I have
lost some courage in a few hours--she'll find that I remembered her, and
loved her to the last! This is the end of what you showed me. Now, it's
over!"
"Oh no, John, not over! Do not say it's over yet! Not quite yet. I have
heard your noble words. I could not steal away, pretending to be
ignorant of what has affected me with such deep gratitude. Do not say
it's over till the clock has struck again!"
She had entered shortly after Tackleton, and had remained there. She
never looked at Tackleton, but fixed her eyes upon her husband. But she
kept away from him, setting as wide a space as possible between them;
and, though she spoke with most impassioned earnestness, she went no
nearer to him even then. How different in this from her old self!
"No hand can make the clock which will strike again for me the hours
that are gone," replied the Carrier with a faint smile. "But let it be
so, if you will, my dear. It will strike soon. It's of little matter
what we say. I'd try to please you in a harder case than that."
"Well!" muttered Tackleton. "I must be off, for, when the clock strikes
again, it'll be necessary for me to be upon my way to church. Good
morning, John Peerybingle. I'm sorry to be deprived of the pleasure of
your company. Sorry for the loss, and the occasion of it too!"
"I have spoken plainly?" said the Carrier, accompanying him to the door.
"Oh, quite!"
"And you'll remember what I have said?"
"Why, if you compel me to make the observation," said Tackleton,
previously taking the precaution of getting into his chaise, "I must say
that it was so very unexpected, that I'm far from being likely to forget
it."
"The better for us both," returned the Carrier. "Good-bye. I give you
joy!"
"I wish I could give it to _you_," said Tackleton. "As I can't, thankee.
Between ourselves (as I told you before, eh?) I don't much think I shall
have the less joy in my married life because May hasn't been too
officious about me, and too demonstrative. Good-bye! Take care of
yourself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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