" She sobbed
afresh, but more gently, for his kind words soothed her, and
softened, if they could not take away, her sense of desolation.
"Come away; I cannot have you stay here, full of painful
associations as these rooms must be. Come"--raising her with
gentle violence--"show me your little garden you have often told
me about. Near the window of this very room, is it not? See how
well I remember everything you tell me."
He led her round through the back part of the house into the
pretty old-fashioned garden. There was a sunny border just under
the windows, and clipped box and yew-trees by the grass-plat,
further away from the house; and she prattled again of her
childish adventures and solitary plays. When they turned round
they saw the old man, who had hobbled out with the help of his
stick, and was looking at them with the same grave, sad look of
anxiety. Mr. Bellingham spoke rather sharply--
"Why does that old man follow us about in that way? It is
excessively impertinent of him, I think."
"Oh, don't call old Thomas impertinent. He is so good and kind,
he is like a father to me. I remember sitting on his knee many
and many a time when I was a child, whilst he told me stories out
of the 'Pilgrim's Progress.' He taught me to suck up milk through
a straw. Mamma was very fond of him, too. He used to sit with us
always in the evenings when papa was away at market, for mamma
was rather afraid of having no man in the house, and used to beg
old Thomas to stay; and he would take me on his knee, and listen
just as attentively as I did while mamma read aloud.
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