' Beyond this my
'Christian friend' could not be made to advance: no, not even to
do that which seemed the most natural and pleasing thing in the
world--I mean to name her price--but stood before us shaking her
head, and at times mourning like the dove, the picture of
depression and defence. She had a voice the most querulous I have
ever heard, and with this she produced a whole regiment of
difficulties and criticisms.
She could not promise an attendance.
'Well, madam,' said I, 'and what is my servant for?'
'Him?' she asked. 'Be gude to us! Is HE your servant?'
'I am sorry, ma'am, he meets with your disapproval.'
'Na, I never said that. But he's young. He'll be a great breaker,
I'm thinkin'. Ay! he'll be a great responsibeelity to ye, like.
Does he attend to his releegion?'
'Yes, m'm,' returned Rowley, with admirable promptitude, and,
immediately closing his eyes, as if from habit, repeated the
following distich with more celerity than fervour:-
'Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
Bless the bed that I lie on!'
'Nhm!' said the lady, and maintained an awful silence.
'Well, ma'am,' said I, 'it seems we are never to hear the beginning
of your terms, let alone the end of them. Come--a good movement!
and let us be either off or on.'
She opened her lips slowly.
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