Christmas stories, English; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Holidays -- Fiction
"But when she knew that Edward was alive, and had come back," sobbed
Dot, now speaking for herself, as she had burned to do, all through this
narrative; "and when she knew his purpose, she advised him by all means
to keep his secret close; for his old friend John Peerybingle was much
too open in his nature, and too clumsy in all artifice--being a clumsy
man in general," said Dot, half laughing and half crying--"to keep it
for him. And when she--that's me, John," sobbed the little woman--"told
him all, and how his sweetheart had believed him to be dead; and how she
had at last been over-persuaded by her mother into a marriage which the
silly, dear old thing called advantageous; and when she--that's me
again, John--told him they were not yet married (though close upon it),
and that it would be nothing but a sacrifice if it went on, for there
was no love on her side; and when he went nearly mad with joy to hear
it,--then she--that's me again--said she would go between them, as she
had often done before in old times, John, and would sound his
sweetheart, and be sure that what she--me again, John--said and thought
was right. And it WAS right, John! And they were brought together, John!
And they were married, John, an hour ago! And here's the Bride! And
Gruff and Tackleton may die a bachelor! And I'm a happy little woman,
May, God bless you!"
She was an irresistible little woman, if that be anything to the
purpose; and never so completely irresistible as in her present
transports. There never were congratulations so endearing and delicious
as those she lavished on herself and on the Bride.
Amid the tumult of emotions in his breast, the honest Carrier had stood
confounded. Flying, now, towards her, Dot stretched out her hand to stop
him, and retreated as before.
"No, John, no! Hear all! Don't love me any more, John, till you've heard
every word I have to say. It was wrong to have a secret from you, John.
I'm very sorry. I didn't think it any harm, till I came and sat down by
you on the little stool last night. But when I knew, by what was written
in your face, that you had seen me walking in the gallery with Edward,
and when I knew what you thought, I felt how giddy and how wrong it was.
But oh, dear John, how could you, could you think so?"
Little woman, how she sobbed again! John Peerybingle would have caught
her in his arms. But no; she wouldn't let him.
"Don't love me yet, please, John! Not for a long time yet! When I was
sad about this intended marriage, dear, it was because I remembered May
and Edward such young lovers; and knew that her heart was far away from
Tackleton. You believe that, now, don't you, John?"
John was going to make another rush at this appeal; but she stopped him
again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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