DORCAS, who continued very ill all this Day, began thereafter to amend, and was able to take the sole Night-watch. But the Watchman would not let me go forth, though he would send my Messages to Violet, and give me the Packages of Clothing and so forth that Violet sent me. However, one Day a Doctor called, and gave as his Reason for not coming before, that he had been ill himself. And he said both my Patients were in such a fair Way of Recovery, that he thought in another Week I might leave the House without Danger to myself or others, only attending to the proper Fumigations.

Master Blower now sat up in his easy Chair, half wakeful, half dozing, for he was too weak to read much. But he liked me to read to him, which I did for Hours together; and the Subject-matter of the Book often gave Rise to much pleasant Talk, insomuch that I began to be secretly and selfishly sorry that the Time was so near at Hand when he would be well enough to do without me.

At other Times I got him to talk to me about the Country-house of his Brother, the Squire, wherein he himself had been born, and had spent all his boyish Days. And when I heard him tell about the little ivy-covered Church, and the pretty Churchyard planted with Flowers, and the rustic Congregation in their red Cloaks and white Frocks, and the Village Choir with their Pipes and Rebecks, it seemed to me I would rather, a thousand Times, be Vicar or even Curate of such a Place as that than have ever such a large, grand Living in Whitechapel. And so I told him.

At other Times I sat sewing quite silent by the Window, leaving him to doze if he could; and sometimes I could see without looking up, that his Eye would rest on me for a good While at a Time. I did not care a Pin about it, and made as though I took no Notice.

“Cherry,” says he, after one of these Ruminations, “what have the Men been about that you have never got married?”

I plucked up my Spirit on this; and, “Sir,” said I, “if you can tell me of any suitable Answer I can possibly make to such a Question as that, I’ll be much obliged to you for it, and will make Use of it!”

“Well!” says he, “it was a queer Question ... only, the Thing seems so wonderful to me! Such a pretty Girl as you were when I first knew you!”

“Ah, that was a long While ago, Sir,” said I, threading my Needle.

“It was!” said he, decidedly; and then looking at me in an amused Kind of Way, to see how I took it. “A long While ago, as you say, Cherry! And, do you know, I think exactly the same of you now, that I did then!”

“I am very much obliged to you, Sir,” said I; and went to make him a Bread-pudding.

Another Time, we fell to talking about the Awfulness of the Visitation, which, he said, he feared would make no lasting Impression on the People. And he spoke much about individual Sins helping to bring down national Chastisements; and individual Intercessions and Supplications inviting Forgiveness of general Transgressions; quoting Daniel, and Abraham, and Jeremiah, “Run ye to and fro through the Streets of Jerusalem, and see now and know, and seek in the broad Places thereof, if ye can find a Man that executeth Judgment, that seeketh the Truth; and I will pardon it.”

Another Time, feeling weaker than common, he began to despond about getting down to his Brother the Squire’s. I said, “Dear Sir, if you are not equal to so long a Journey, you can come, for Change of Air, to your old Quarters on the Bridge.”

“Ah, Cherry,” said he, faintly smiling, “what would Folks say if I did that?”

“Why, what should they say, Sir?” said I.

“I’m not considering what they should say,” said he; “what they would say, Cherry, would probably be, that I meant to marry you; or ought to mean it.”

I said I did not suppose they would or could say any such Thing; I being so long known on the Bridge,—and he of his Years——

“Humph!” said he, “I am but forty-four! To hear you talk, one might think I was a—” ... I forget what Sort of an Arian he called himself,—“Do you know what that means, Cherry?”

I said, I believed it was some Sort of a Dissenter. On which he laughed outright; and said it meant sixty or seventy Years of Age, I forget which.

“And I’m not quite such an old Codger as that,” said he, “so I won’t accept your kind Invitation, though I thank you heartily for it. But we must not let our Good be evil spoken of.”

All this was spoken in such a simple, genial, attaching Sort of a Way,—for his Manners were always gentle and well-nurtured,—that it only went to make me like him more and more, and think what a Privilege it was to be thus in hourly Communion with Master Blower.

Parting Time came at last. It was my own Fault if I left not that House a wiser, better, and happier Woman. Dorcas and I saw him start off for Berkshire; and there was a Tear in my Eye, when he took my Hand to bid me Farewell.

“Cherry,” said he, still holding my Hand, and looking at me with great Goodness and Sweetness, “I shall never forget that to you, under Heaven, I owe my Life. And, by the Way, there is Something I have often thought of naming to you, only that it never occurred to me at the proper Time ... a very odd Circumstance.—When I escaped to Holland, and, as some People thought, was in Want of Money, I found seven gold Pieces in the Inside of one of my Slippers! Who could have put them there, do you think? Ah, Cherry!—There! God bless you!”