Dearto
her
,
for
this
reason
;
were
the
few
moments
of
solitude
she
could
call
her
own
;
dear
to
her
was
that
little
room
,
where
she
could
steal
away
at
twilight
time
and
think
in
peace
.
Very
unlike
her
age
was
this
ignorant
dress-maker
of
the
nineteenth
century
.
Ask
the
men
and
women
of
the
day
to
read
volumes
;
why
,
there
is
not
a
season
but
they
go
through
the
Herculean
labour
of
swallowing
down
histories
written
faster
than
time
flies
,
novels
by
the
dozen
,
essays
,
philosophic
and
political
,
books
of
travels
,
of
science
,
of
statistics
,
besides
the
nameless
host
of
reviews
,
magazines
,
and
papers
,
daily
and
weekly
.
Ask
them
to
study
:
why
,
what
is
there
they
do
not
know
,
from
the
most
futile
accomplishment
to
the
most
abstruse
science
?
Ask
them
too
,
if
you
like
,
to
enter
life
,
to
view
it
under
all
its
aspects
;
why
,
they
have
travelled
over
the
whole
earth
;
and
life
,
they
know
from
the
palace
down
to
the
hovel
;
but
bid
them
think
!
They
stare
aghast
:
it
is
the
task
of
Sisyphus
—
the
labour
of
the
Danaide
;
as
fast
as
thought
enters
their
mind
,
it
goes
out
again
.
Bid
them
commune
,
one
day
with
God
and
their
own
hearts
—
they
reply
dejectedly
that
they
cannot
;
for
their
intellect
is
quick
and
brilliant
,
but
their
heart
is
cold
.
And
thought
springs
from
the
heart
,
and
in
her
heart
had
Rachel
Gray
found
it
.
The
task
impossible
to
them
was
to
her
easy
and
delightful
.
Time
wore
on
;
deeper
and
more
exquisite
grew
what
Rachel
quaintly
termed
to
herself
"
the
pleasure
of
thinking
.
"
And
oh
!
she
thought
sometimes
,
and
it
was
a
thought
that
made
her
heart
bum
,
"
Oh
!
that
people
only
knew
the
pleasures
of
thinking
!
Oh
!
if
people
would
only
think
!
"
And
mom
,
and
noon
,
and
night
,
and
bending
over
her
work
,
or
sitting
at
peaceful
twilight
time
in
the
little
back
room
,
Rachel
thought
;
and
thus
she
went
on
through
life
,
between
those
two
fair
sisters
,
Thought
and
Prayer
.
Reader
,
hare
you
known
many
thinkers
?
We
confess
that
we
hare
known
many
men
and
women
of
keen
and
great
intellect
,
some
geniuses
;
but
only
one
real
thinker
have
we
known
,
only
one
who
really
thought
for
thought
's
own
sake
,
and
that
one
was
Rachel
Gray
.
And
now
,
if
she
moves
through
this
story
,
thinking
much
and
doing
little
,
you
know
why
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
It
was
not
merely
in
meditation
that
Rachel
indulged
,
when
she
sought
the
little
room
.
The
divine
did
not
banish
the
human
from
her
heart
;
and
she
had
friends
known
to
her
,
but
from
that
back
room
window
;
but
friends
they
were
,
and
,
in
their
way
and
degree
,
valued
ones
.
First
,
came
the
neighbour
's
children
.
By
standing
up
on
an
old
wooden
stool
in
the
yard
,
they
could
see
Rachel
at
her
window
,
and
Rachel
could
see
them
.
They
were
rude
and
ignorant
little
things
enough
,
and
no
better
than
young
heathens
,
in
rearing
and
knowledge
;
yet
they
liked
to
hear
Rachel
singing
hymns
in
a
low
voice
;
they
even
caught
from
her
,
scraps
of
verses
,
and
sang
them
in
their
own
fashion
;
and
when
Rachel
,
hearing
this
,
took
courage
to
open
a
conversation
with
them
,
and
to
teach
them
as
well
as
she
could
,
she
found
in
them
voluntary
and
sufficiently
docile
pupils
.
Their
intercourse
,
indeed
,
was
brief
,
and
limited
to
a
few
minutes
every
evening
that
Rachel
could
steal
up
to
her
little
room
,
but
it
was
cordial
and
free
.
Another
friend
had
Rachel
,
yet
one
with
whom
she
had
never
exchanged
speech
.
There
existed
,
at
the
back
of
Mrs.
Gray
's
house
,
a
narrow
court
,
inhabited
by
the
poorest
of
the
poor
.
Over
part
of
this
court
,
Mrs.
Gray
's
back
windows
commanded
a
prospect
which
few
would
have
envied
—
yet
it
had
proved
to
Rachel
the
source
of
the
truest
and
the
keenest
pleasure
.
From
her
window
,
Rachel
could
look
clearly
into
a
low
damp
cellar
opposite
,
the
abode
of
a
little
old
Frenchwoman
,
known
in
the
neighbourhood
,
as
"
mad
Madame
Rose
.
"
Madame
Rose
,
as
she
called
herself
,
was
a
very
diminutive
old
woman
—
unusually
so
,
but
small
and
neat
in
all
her
limbs
,
and
brisk
in
all
her
movements
.
She
was
dry
,
too
,
and
brown
as
a
nut
,
with
a
restless
black
eye
,
and
a
voluble
tongue
,
which
she
exercised
mostly
in
her
native
language
—
not
that
Madame
Rose
could
not
speak
English
;
she
had
resided
some
fifteen
years
in
London
,
and
could
say
'
yes
'
and
'
no
,
'
etc.
,
quite
fluently
.
Her
attire
looked
peculiar
,
in
this
country
,
but
it
suited
her
person
excellently
well
;
it
was
simply
that
of
a
French
peasant
woman
,
with
high
peaked
cap
,
and
kerchief
,
both
snow-white
,
short
petticoats
,
and
full
,
a
wide
apron
,
clattering
wooden
shoes
,
and
blue
stockings
.
What
wind
of
fortune
had
wafted
this
little
French
fairy
to
a
London
cellar
,
no
one
ever
knew
.
How
she
lived
,
was
almost
as
great
a
mystery
.
Every
Sunday
morning
,
she
went
forth
,
with
a
little
wooden
stool
,
and
planted
herself
at
the
door
of
the
French
chapel
;
she
asked
for
nothing
,
but
took
what
she
got
.
Indeed
,
her
business
there
did
not
seem
to
be
to
get
anything
,
but
to
make
herself
busy
.
She
nodded
to
every
one
who
went
in
or
out
,
gave
unasked-for
information
,
and
assisted
the
policeman
in
keeping
the
carriages
in
order
.
She
darted
in
and
out
,
among
wheels
and
horses
,
with
reckless
audacity
;
and
once
,
to
the
infinite
wrath
of
a
fat
liveried
coachman
,
she
suspended
herself
—
she
was
rather
short
—
from
the
aristocratic
reins
he
held
,
and
boldly
attempted
to
turn
the
heads
of
his
horses
.
On
week
days
,
Madame
Rose
stayed
in
her
cellar
,
and
knitted
.
It
was
this
part
of
her
life
which
Rachel
knew
,
and
it
was
the
most
beautiful
;
for
this
little
,
laughed-at
being
,
who
lived
upon
charity
,
was
,
herself
,
all
charity
.
Never
yet
,
for
five
years
that
Rachel
had
watched
her
,
had
she
seen
Madame
Rose
alone
in
her
cellar
.
Poor
girls
,
who
looked
very
much
like
out-casts
,
old
and
infirm
women
,
helpless
children
,
had
successively
shared
the
home
,
the
bed
,
and
the
board
of
Madame
Rose
.
For
her
seemed
written
the
beautiful
record
,
"
I
was
naked
,
and
ye
clothed
me
;
I
was
hungry
,
and
ye
fed
me
:
athirst
,
and
ye
gave
me
drink
;
and
I
was
houseless
,
and
you
sheltered
me
.
"
With
humble
admiration
,
Rachel
saw
a
charity
and
a
zeal
which
she
could
not
imitate
.
Like
Mary
,
she
could
sit
at
the
feet
of
the
Lord
,
and
,
looking
up
,
listen
,
rapt
and
absorbed
,
to
the
divine
teaching
.
But
the
spirit
of
Martha
,
the
holy
zeal
and
fervour
with
which
she
bade
welcome
to
her
heavenly
guest
,
were
not
among
the
gifts
of
Rachel
Gray
.
Yet
,
the
pleasure
with
which
she
stood
in
the
corner
of
her
own
window
,
and
looked
down
into
the
cellar
of
Madame
Rose
,
was
not
merely
that
of
religious
sympathy
or
admiration
.
As
she
saw
it
this
evening
,
with
the
tallow
light
that
burned
on
the
table
,
rendering
every
object
minutely
distinct
,
Rachel
looked
with
another
feeling
than
that
of
mere
curiosity
.
She
looked
with
the
artistic
pleasure
we
feel
,
when
we
gaze
at
some
clearly-painted
Dutch
picture
,
with
its
back-ground
of
soft
gloom
,
and
its
homely
details
of
domestic
life
,
relieved
by
touches
of
brilliant
light
.
Poor
as
this
cellar
was
,
a
painter
would
have
liked
it
well
;
he
would
surely
have
delighted
in
the
brown
and
crazy
clothes-press
,
that
stood
at
the
further
end
,
massive
and
dark
;
in
the
shining
kitchen
utensils
that
decorated
the
walls
;
in
the
low
and
many-coloured
bed
;
in
the
clean
,
white
deal
table
;
in
the
smouldering
fire
,
that
burned
in
that
dark
grate
,
like
a
red
eye
;
especially
would
he
have
gloried
in
the
quaint
little
figure
of
Madame
Rose
.
She
had
been
cooking
her
supper
,
and
she
now
sat
down
to
it
.
In
doing
so
,
she
caught
sight
of
Rachel
's
figure
;
they
were
acquainted
—
that
is
to
say
,
that
Madame
Rose
,
partly
aware
of
the
interest
Rachel
took
in
such
glimpses
as
she
obtained
of
her
own
daily
life
,
favoured
her
with
tokens
of
recognition
,
whenever
she
caught
sight
of
her
,
far
or
near
.
She
now
nodded
in
friendly
style
,
laughed
,
nodded
again
,
and
with
that
communicativeness
which
formed
part
of
her
character
,
successively
displayed
every
article
of
her
supper
for
Rachel
's
inspection
.
First
,
came
a
dishful
of
dark
liquid
—
onion
soup
it
was
—
then
,
a
piece
of
bread
,
not
a
large
one
;
then
,
two
apples
;
then
a
small
bit
of
cheese
—
for
Madame
Rose
was
a
Frenchwoman
,
and
she
would
have
her
soup
,
and
her
dish
,
and
her
dessert
,
no
matter
on
what
scale
,
or
in
what
quantity
.
But
the
supper
of
Madame
Rose
did
not
alone
attract
the
attention
and
interest
of
Rachel
.
For
a
week
,
Madame
Rose
had
enjoyed
her
cellar
to
herself
;
her
last
guest
,
an
old
and
infirm
woman
,
having
died
of
old
age
;
but
,
since
the
preceding
day
,
she
had
taken
in
a
new
tenant
—
an
idiot
girl
,
of
some
fourteen
years
of
age
,
whom
her
father
,
an
inhabitant
of
the
court
,
had
lately
forsaken
,
and
whom
society
,
that
negligent
step-mother
of
man
,
had
left
to
her
fate
.
And
now
,
with
tears
of
emotion
and
admiration
,
Rachel
watched
the
little
Frenchwoman
feeding
her
adopted
child
;
having
first
girt
its
neck
with
a
sort
of
bib
,
Madame
Rose
armed
herself
with
a
long
handled
spoon
,
and
standing
before
it
—
she
was
too
short
to
sit
—
she
deliberately
poured
a
sufficient
quantity
of
onion
soup
down
its
throat
a
proceeding
which
the
idiot
girl
received
with
great
equanimity
,
opening
and
shutting
her
mouth
with
exemplary
regularity
and
seriousness
.
So
absorbed
was
Rachel
in
looking
,
that
she
never
heard
her
mother
calling
her
from
below
,
until
the
summons
was
,
for
a
third
time
,
angrily
repeated
.
"
Now
,
Rachel
,
what
are
you
doing
up
there
?
"
asked
the
sharp
voice
of
Mrs.
Gray
,
at
the
foot
of
the
staircase
;
"
moping
,
as
usual
!
Eh
?
"
Rachel
started
,
and
hastened
down
stairs
,
a
little
frightened
.
She
had
remained
unusually
long
.
What
if
her
mother
should
suspect
that
she
had
gone
up
for
the
purpose
of
thinking
?
Mrs.
Gray
had
no
such
suspicion
,
fortunately
;
else
she
would
surely
have
been
horror-struck
at
the
monstrous
idea
,
that
Rachel
should
actually
dare
to
think
!
The
very
extravagance
of
the
supposition
saved
Rachel
It
was
not
to
be
thought
of
.
The
candle
was
lit
.
Mrs.
Brown
and
another
neighbour
had
looked
in
.
Gossip
,
flavoured
with
scandal
—
else
it
would
have
been
tasteless
—
was
at
full
galop
.
"
La
!
but
did
n't
I
always
say
so
?
"
exclaimed
Mrs.
Brown
,
who
had
always
said
everything
.
"
I
could
n't
have
believed
it
,
that
I
could
n't
!
"
emphatically
observed
Mrs.
Gray
.
"
La
,
bless
you
,
Mrs.
Gray
!
I
could
,
"
sneered
the
neighbour
,
who
was
sharp
,
thin
,
and
irritable
.
Even
Jane
had
her
word
:
"
I
never
liked
her
,
"
she
said
,
giving
her
thread
a
pull
.
"
Who
is
she
?
"
languidly
asked
Mary
,
letting
her
work
fall
on
her
knees
.
"
Never
you
mind
,
Miss
,
"
tartly
replied
Jane
.
"
Just
stitch
on
,
will
you
?
"
Mrs.
Brown
was
again
down
on
the
unlucky
absent
one
.
"
Serve
her
right
,
"
she
said
,
benevolently
.
"
Serve
her
right
—
the
set
up
thing
!
Oh
!
there
's
Rachel
.
Lawk
,
Rachel
!
what
a
pity
you
ai
n't
been
here
!
You
never
heard
such
a
story
as
has
come
out
about
that
little
staymaker
,
Humpy
,
as
I
call
her
.
Why
,
she
's
been
a
making
love
to
—
la
!
but
I
ca
n't
help
laughing
,
when
I
think
of
it
;
and
it
's
all
true
,
every
word
of
it
;
aint
it
,
Mrs.
Smith
?
"
Mrs.
Smith
loftily
acquiesced
.
"
Oh
!
my
little
room
—
my
little
room
!
"
inwardly
sighed
Rachel
,
as
she
sat
down
to
her
work
.
She
hoped
that
the
story
was
,
at
least
,
finished
and
over
;
but
if
it
was
,
the
commentaries
upon
it
were
only
beginning
,
and
Heaven
knows
if
they
were
not
various
and
abundant
.
Rachel
did
her
best
to
abstract
herself
;
to
hear
,
and
not
listen
.
She
succeeded
so
well
that
she
only
awoke
from
her
dream
when
Mrs.
Brown
said
to
her
,
"
Well
,
Rachel
,
why
do
n't
you
answer
,
then
?
"
Rachel
looked
up
,
with
a
start
,
and
said
,
in
some
trepidation
,
"
Answer
!
I
did
n't
hear
you
speak
,
ma'am
.
"
"
Did
n't
you
now
!
"
knowingly
observed
Mrs.
Brown
,
winking
on
the
rest
of
the
company
.
"
No
,
ma'am
,
I
did
not
,
indeed
,
"
replied
Rachel
,
earnestly
.
"
Bless
the
girl
!
"
said
Mrs.
Brown
,
laughing
outright
;
"
why
,
you
must
be
growing
deaf
.
"
"
I
hope
not
,
"
said
Rachel
,
rather
perplexed
;
"
yet
,
perhaps
,
I
am
;
for
,
indeed
,
I
did
not
hear
you
.
"
"
La
,
Miss
Gray
!
do
n't
you
see
they
are
making
fun
of
you
?
"
impatiently
observed
Jane
.
"
Why
,
Mrs.
Brown
had
n't
been
a
saying
anything
at
all
.
"
Rachel
reddened
a
little
,
and
there
was
a
general
laugh
at
her
expense
.
The
joke
was
certainly
a
witty
one
.
But
Mrs.
Gray
,
who
was
a
touchy
woman
,
was
not
pleased
;
and
no
sooner
were
her
amiable
visitors
gone
,
than
she
gave
it
to
Rachel
for
having
been
laughed
at
with
insolent
rudeness
.
"
If
you
were
not
sich
a
simpleton
,
"
she
said
,
in
great
anger
,
"
people
would
n't
dare
to
laugh
at
you
.
They
would
n't
take
the
liberty
.
No
one
ever
laughed
at
me
,
I
can
tell
you
.
No
Mrs.
Brown
;
no
,
nor
no
Mrs.
Smith
either
.
But
you
!
why
,
they
'll
do
anythink
to
you
.
"
Rachel
looked
up
from
her
work
into
her
mother
's
face
.
It
rose
to
her
lips
to
say
—
"
If
you
were
not
the
first
to
make
little
of
me
,
would
others
dare
to
do
so
?
"
but
she
remembered
her
lonely
forsaken
childhood
,
and
bending
once
more
over
her
task
,
Rachel
held
her
peace
.
"
I
want
to
go
to
bed
,
"
peevishly
said
Mary
.
"
Then
go
,
my
dear
,
"
gently
replied
Rachel
.
"
You
'll
spoil
that
girl
,
"
observed
Mrs.
Gray
,
with
great
asperity
.
"
She
is
not
strong
,
"
answered
Rachel
;
"
and
I
promised
Mr.
Jones
she
should
not
work
too
much
.
"
"
Not
much
fear
of
that
,
"
drily
said
Jane
,
as
the
door
closed
on
Mary
.
No
one
answered
.
Rachel
worked
;
her
mother
read
the
paper
,
and
for
an
hour
there
was
deep
silence
in
the
parlour
.
As
the
church
clock
struck
nine
,
a
knock
came
at
the
door
.
Jane
opened
,
and
a
rosy
,
good-humoured
looking
man
entered
the
parlour
.
He
was
about
forty
,
short
,
stout
,
with
rather
a
low
forehead
,
and
stubby
hair
;
altogether
,
he
seemed
more
remarkable
for
good-nature
than
for
intelligence
.
At
once
his
look
went
round
the
room
.
"
Mary
is
gone
to
bed
,
Mr.
Jones
,
"
said
Rachel
,
smiling
.
"
To
bed
!
—
She
ai
n't
ill
,
I
hope
.
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
with
an
alarmed
start
.
"
Ill
!
Oh
,
no
!
but
she
felt
tired
.
I
am
sorry
you
have
had
this
long
walk
for
nothing
.
"
"
Never
mind
,
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
replied
cheerfully
;
then
sitting
down
,
and
wiping
his
moist
brow
,
he
added
—
"
the
walk
does
me
good
,
and
then
I
hear
how
she
is
,
and
I
've
the
pleasure
of
seeing
you
all
.
And
so
she
's
quite
well
,
is
she
?
"
He
leaned
his
two
hands
on
the
head
of
his
walking-stick
,
and
looking
over
it
,
smiled
abstractedly
at
his
own
thoughts
.
Mrs.
Gray
roused
him
with
the
query
—
"
And
what
do
you
think
of
the
state
of
the
nation
,
Mr.
Jones
?
"
Mr.
Jones
scratched
his
head
,
looked
puzzled
,
hemmed
,
and
at
length
came
out
with
the
candid
confession
:
"
Mrs.
Gray
,
I
ai
n't
no
politician
.
For
all
I
see
,
politics
only
brings
a
poor
man
into
trouble
.
Look
at
the
Chartists
,
and
the
tenth
of
April
.
"
"
Ah
!
poor
things
!
"
sighed
Rachel
,
"
I
saw
them
—
they
passed
by
here
.
How
thin
they
were
—
bow
careworn
they
looked
!
"
Mrs.
Gray
remained
aghast
.
Rachel
had
actually
had
the
audacity
to
give
an
opinion
on
any
subject
unconnected
with
dress-making
—
and
even
on
that
,
poor
girl
!
she
was
not
always
allowed
to
speak
.
"
Now
,
Rachel
,
"
she
said
,
rallying
,
"
will
you
hold
your
tongue
,
and
speak
of
what
you
know
,
and
not
meddle
with
politics
.
"
We
must
apologize
for
using
italics
,
but
without
their
aid
we
never
could
convey
to
our
readers
a
proper
idea
of
the
awful
solemnity
with
which
Mrs.
Gray
emphasized
her
address
.
Rachel
was
rather
bewildered
,
for
she
was
not
conscious
of
having
said
a
word
on
politics
,
a
subject
she
did
not
understand
,
and
never
spoke
on
;
but
she
had
long
learned
the
virtue
of
silence
.
She
did
not
reply
.
"
As
to
the
Chartists
?
"
resumed
Mrs.
Gray
,
turning
to
Mr.
Jones
.
"
Law
bless
you
,
Mrs.
Gray
,
I
ai
n't
one
of
them
!
"
he
hastily
replied
.
"
I
mind
my
own
business
—
that
's
what
I
do
,
Mrs.
Gray
.
The
world
must
go
round
,
you
know
.
"
"
So
it
must
,
"
gravely
replied
that
lady
.
"
You
never
said
a
truer
thing
,
Mr.
Jones
.
"
And
very
likely
Mr.
Jones
had
not
.
"
And
I
must
go
off
,
"
said
Mr.
Jones
,
rising
with
a
half-stifled
sigh
,
"
for
it
's
getting
late
,
and
I
have
five
miles
to
walk
.
"
And
,
undetained
by
Mrs.
Gray
's
slow
but
honest
entreaty
to
stay
and
share
their
supper
,
he
left
Rachel
lighted
him
out
.
As
she
closed
the
parlour
door
,
he
looked
at
her
,
and
lowering
his
voice
,
he
said
hesitatingly
:
"
I
could
n't
see
her
,
could
I
,
Miss
Gray
?
"
Poor
Rachel
hesitated
.
She
knew
that
she
should
get
scolded
if
she
complied
;
but
then
,
he
looked
at
her
with
such
beseeching
eyes
—
he
wished
for
it
so
very
much
.
Kindness
prevailed
over
fear
;
she
smiled
,
and
treading
softly
,
led
the
way
up-stairs
.
As
softly
,
he
followed
her
up
into
the
little
back
room
.
Mary
was
fast
asleep
;
her
hands
were
folded
over
the
coverlet
of
variegated
patchwork
;
her
head
lay
slightly
turned
on
the
white
pillow
;
the
frill
of
her
cap
softly
shaded
her
pale
young
face
,
now
slightly
flushed
with
sleep
.
Her
father
bent
over
her
with
fond
love
,
keeping
in
his
breath
.
Rachel
held
the
light
;
she
turned
her
head
away
,
that
Mr.
Jones
might
not
see
her
eyes
,
fest
filling
with
tears
.
"
Oh
!
my
father
—
my
father
!
"
she
thought
,
"
never
have
you
looked
so
at
your
child
—
never
—
never
!
"
On
tip-toe
,
Mr.
Jones
softly
withdrew
,
and
stole
downstairs
.
"
I
'd
have
kissed
her
,
"
he
whispered
to
Rachel
,
as
she
opened
the
door
for
him
,
"
but
it
might
have
woke
her
out
of
that
sweet
sleep
.
"
And
away
he
went
,
happy
to
have
purchased
,
by
a
ten
miles
walk
after
a
day
's
hard
labour
,
that
look
at
his
sleeping
child
.
"
Oh
,
Lord
!
how
beautiful
is
the
love
Thou
hast
put
into
the
hearts
of
Thy
creature
!
"
thought
Rachel
Gray
;
and
though
it
had
not
been
her
lot
to
win
that
love
,
the
thought
was
to
her
so
sweet
and
so
lovely
,
that
she
bore
without
repining
her
expected
scolding
.
"
Mrs.
Gray
had
never
heard
of
such
a
think
—
never
.
"
CHAPTER
V.
The
rich
man
has
his
intellect
,
and
its
pleasures
;
he
has
his
books
,
his
studies
,
his
club
,
his
lectures
,
his
excursions
;
he
has
foreign
lands
,
splendid
cities
,
galleries
,
museums
,
ancient
and
modern
art
:
the
poor
man
has
his
child
,
solitary
delight
of
his
hard
tasked
life
,
only
solace
of
his
cheerless
home
.
Richard
Jones
had
but
that
one
child
,
that
peevish
,
sickly
,
fretful
little
daughter
;
but
she
was
his
all
.
He
was
twenty-one
,
when
the
grocer
in
whose
shop
his
youth
had
been
spent
,
died
a
bankrupt
,
leaving
one
child
,
a
daughter
,
a
pale
,
sickly
young
creature
of
seventeen
,
called
Mary
Smith
.
Richard
Jones
had
veneration
large
.
He
had
always
felt
for
this
young
lady
an
awful
degree
of
respect
,
quite
sufficient
of
itself
to
preclude
love
,
had
he
been
one
to
know
this
beautiful
feeling
by
more
than
hearsay
—
which
he
was
not
.
Indeed
,
he
never
could
or
would
have
thought
of
Mary
Smith
as
something
less
than
a
goddess
,
if
,
calling
at
the
house
of
the
relative
to
whom
she
had
gone
,
and
finding
her
in
tears
,
and
,
on
her
own
confession
,
very
miserable
,
he
had
not
felt
moved
to
offer
himself
,
most
hesitatingly
,
poor
fellow
I
for
her
acceptance
.
Miss
Smith
gave
gracious
consent
.
They
were
married
,
and
lived
most
happily
together
.
Poor
little
Mary
's
temper
was
none
of
the
best
;
but
Richard
made
every
allowance
:
"
Breaking
down
of
the
business
—
other
's
death
—
having
to
marry
a
poor
fellow
like
him
,
etc.
"
In
short
,
he
proved
the
most
humble
and
devoted
of
husbands
,
toiled
like
a
slave
to
keep
his
wife
like
a
lady
,
and
never
forgot
the
honour
she
had
conferred
upon
him
;
to
this
honour
Mrs.
Jones
added
,
after
three
years
,
by
presenting
him
with
a
sickly
baby
,
which
,
to
its
mother
's
name
of
Mary
,
proudly
added
that
of
its
maternal
grandfather
Smith
.
A
year
after
the
birth
of
Mary
Smith
Jones
,
her
mother
died
.
The
affections
of
the
widower
centred
on
his
child
;
he
had
,
indeed
,
felt
more
awe
than
fondness
for
his
deceased
wife
—
love
had
never
entered
his
heart
;
he
earned
it
with
him
,
pure
and
virgin
,
to
the
grave
,
impressed
with
but
one
image
—
that
of
his
daughter
.
He
reared
his
little
baby
alone
and
unaided
.
Once
,
indeed
,
a
female
friend
insisted
on
relieving
him
from
the
charge
;
but
,
after
surrendering
his
treasure
to
her
,
after
spending
a
sleepless
night
,
he
rose
with
dawn
,
and
went
and
fetched
back
his
darling
.
During
his
wife
's
lifetime
,
he
had
been
employed
in
a
large
warehouse
;
but
now
,
in
order
to
stay
at
home
,
he
turned
basket-maker
.
His
child
slept
with
him
,
cradled
in
his
arms
;
he
washed
,
combed
,
dressed
it
himself
every
morning
,
and
made
a
woman
of
himself
for
its
sake
.
When
Mary
grew
up
,
her
father
sent
her
to
school
,
and
resumed
his
more
profitable
out-door
occupation
.
After
a
long
search
and
much
deliberation
,
he
prenticed
her
to
Rachel
Gray
,
and
with
her
Mary
Jones
had
now
been
about
a
month
.
"
How
pretty
she
looked
,
with
that
bit
of
pink
on
her
cheek
,
"
soliloquized
Richard
Jones
,
as
he
turned
round
the
corner
of
the
street
on
his
way
homewards
;
and
fairer
than
his
mistress
's
image
to
the
lover
's
fancy
,
young
Mary
's
face
rose
before
her
father
on
the
gloom
of
the
dark
night
.
A
woman
's
voice
suddenly
broke
on
his
reverie
.
She
asked
him
to
direct
her
to
the
nearest
grocer
's
shop
.
"
I
am
a
stranger
to
the
neighbourhood
,
"
he
replied
;
"
but
I
dare
say
this
young
person
can
tell
us
;
"
and
he
stopped
a
servant-girl
,
and
put
the
question
to
her
.
"
A
grocer
's
shop
?
"
she
said
,
"
there
's
not
one
within
a
mile
.
You
must
go
down
the
next
street
on
your
right-hand
,
turn
into
the
alley
on
your
left
,
then
turn
to
your
right
again
,
and
if
you
take
the
fifth
street
after
that
,
it
will
take
you
to
the
Teapot
.
"
She
had
to
repeat
her
directions
twice
before
the
woman
fairly
understood
them
.
"
What
a
chance
!
"
thought
Jones
,
as
he
again
walked
on
;
"
not
a
grocer
's
shop
within
a
mile
.
Now
,
suppose
I
had
,
say
fifty
pounds
,
just
to
open
with
,
how
soon
the
thing
would
do
for
itself
.
And
then
I
'd
have
my
little
Mary
at
home
with
me
.
Yes
,
that
would
be
something
!
"
Ay
;
the
shop
and
Mary
!
—
ambition
and
love
!
Ever
since
he
had
dealt
tea
and
sugar
in
Mr.
Smith
's
establishment
,
Richard
Jones
had
been
haunted
with
the
desire
to
become
a
tradesman
,
and
do
the
same
thing
in
a
shop
of
his
own
.
But
,
conscious
of
the
extravagant
futility
of
this
wish
,
Jones
generally
consoled
himself
with
the
thought
that
grocer
's
shops
were
as
thick
as
mushrooms
,
and
that
,
capital
or
no
capital
,
there
was
no
room
for
him
.
And
now
,
as
he
walked
home
,
dreaming
,
he
could
not
but
sigh
,
for
there
was
room
,
he
could
not
doubt
it
—
but
where
was
the
capital
?
He
was
still
vaguely
wondering
in
his
own
mind
,
by
what
magical
process
the
said
capital
could
possibly
be
called
up
,
when
he
reached
his
own
home
.
There
he
found
that
,
in
his
absence
,
a
rudely
scrawled
scrap
of
paper
had
been
slipped
under
his
room
door
;
it
was
to
the
following
purport
:
"
Dear
J
.
,
"
Als
up
;
farm
broke
.
Weral
inn
for
it
.
"
Yours
,
"
S.
S.
"
This
laconic
epistle
signified
that
the
firm
in
whose
warehouse
Richard
Jones
was
employed
,
had
stopped
payment
Rich
men
lost
their
thousands
,
and
eat
none
the
worse
a
dinner
;
Richard
Jones
lost
his
week
's
wages
,
his
future
employment
,
and
remained
stunned
with
the
magnitude
of
the
blow
.
His
first
thought
flew
to
his
child
.
"
How
shall
I
pay
Miss
Gray
for
my
little
Mary
's
keep
?
"
he
exclaimed
,
inwardly
.
He
cast
his
look
round
the
room
to
see
what
he
could
pledge
or
sell
.
Alas
!
there
was
little
enough
there
.
His
next
feeling
was
,
"
My
darling
must
know
nothing
about
it
Thank
God
,
she
is
not
with
me
now
!
Thank
God
!
"
But
,
though
this
was
some
sort
of
comfort
,
the
future
still
looked
so
dark
and
threatening
,
that
Jones
spent
a
sleepless
night
,
tossing
in
his
bed
,
and
groaning
so
loudly
,
that
his
landlady
forsook
her
couch
to
knock
at
his
door
,
and
inquire
,
to
his
infinite
confusion
,
"
if
Mr.
Jones
felt
poorly
,
and
if
there
was
anything
she
could
do
for
him
,
and
if
he
would
like
some
hot
ginger
?
"
To
which
Mr.
Jones
replied
,
with
thanks
,
"
that
he
was
quite
well
,
much
obliged
to
her
all
the
same
.
"
After
this
significant
hint
,
he
managed
to
keep
quiet
.
Towards
morning
,
he
fell
asleep
,
and
dreamed
he
had
found
a
purse
full
of
guineas
,
and
that
he
was
going
to
open
a
grocer
's
shop
,
to
be
called
the
Teapot
.
Richard
Jones
was
sober
,
intelligent
enough
for
what
he
had
to
do
,
and
not
too
intelligent
—
which
is
a
great
disadvantage
;
he
bore
an
excellent
character
;
and
yet
,
somehow
or
other
,
when
he
searched
for
employment
,
there
seemed
to
be
no
zoom
for
him
;
and
had
he
been
a
philosopher
,
which
,
most
fortunately
for
his
peace
of
mind
,
he
was
not
,
he
must
inevitably
hare
come
to
the
conclusion
,
that
in
this
world
he
was
not
wanted
.
We
are
not
called
upon
to
enter
into
the
history
of
his
struggles
.
He
maintained
a
sort
of
precarious
existence
,
now
working
at
this
,
now
working
at
that
;
for
he
was
a
Jack
of
all
trades
,
and
could
torn
his
hand
to
anything
,
but
certain
of
no
continual
employment
.
How
he
went
through
it
all
,
still
paying
Miss
Gray
,
still
keeping
up
a
decent
appearance
,
contracting
no
debts
,
the
pitying
eye
which
alone
looks
down
on
the
bitter
trials
of
the
poor
,
also
alone
knows
.
The
poorer
a
man
gets
,
the
more
he
thinks
of
wealth
and
money
;
the
narrower
does
the
world
close
around
him
,
and
all
the
wider
grows
the
world
of
his
charms
.
The
shop
,
which
had
only
been
a
dormant
idea
in
Richard
Jones
's
mind
,
now
became
a
living
phantom
;
day
and
night
,
mom
and
noon
it
haunted
him
.
When
he
had
nothing
to
do
—
and
this
was
,
unfortunately
,
too
often
the
case
—
he
sought
intuitively
the
suburb
where
Rachel
Gray
dwelt
;
ascertained
,
over
and
over
,
that
within
the
mile
circuit
of
that
central
point
there
did
not
exist
one
grocer
's
shop
,
and
finally
determined
that
the
precise
spot
where
,
for
public
benefit
and
its
own
advantage
,
a
grocer
's
shop
should
be
,
was
just
round
the
corner
of
the
street
next
to
that
of
Rachel
Gray
,
in
a
dirty
little
house
,
now
occupied
by
a
rag
and
bottle
establishment
,
with
very
dirty
windows
,
and
a
shabby
black
doll
dangling
like
a
thief
,
over
the
doorway
;
spite
of
which
enticing
prospect
,
the
rag
and
bottle
people
seemed
to
thrive
but
indifferently
,
if
one
might
judge
from
the
sulky
,
ill-tempered
looking
woman
,
whom
Jones
always
saw
within
,
sorting
old
rags
,
and
scowling
at
him
whenever
she
caught
him
in
the
act
of
peering
in
.
It
was
,
therefore
,
with
no
surprise
,
though
with
some
uneasiness
,
that
coming
one
day
to
linger
as
usual
near
the
place
,
James
found
the
rag
and
bottle
shop
closed
,
the
black
doll
gone
,
and
the
words
,
"
To
let
"
scrawled
,
in
white
chalk
,
on
the
shutters
.
Convinced
that
none
but
a
grocer
could
take
such
a
desirable
shop
,
and
desirous
,
at
least
,
to
know
when
this
fated
consummation
was
to
take
place
,
Jones
took
courage
,
and
went
on
as
far
as
Rachel
Gray
's
.
Jane
,
the
grim
apprentice
,
opened
to
him
,
"
There
's
no
one
at
home
,
"
she
said
.
Mr.
Jones
pleaded
fatigue
,
and
asked
to
be
permitted
to
rest
awhile
.
She
did
not
oppose
his
entrance
,
but
grimly
repelled
all
his
attempts
at
opening
a
conversation
.
He
entered
on
that
most
innocent
topic
,
the
weather
,
and
praised
it
.
"
It
has
been
raining
,
"
was
Jane
's
emphatic
reply
.
"
Oh
!
has
it
?
What
's
them
bells
ringing
for
,
I
wonder
.
"
"
They
aint
a
ringing
;
they
're
a
tolling
.
"
Mr.
Jones
,
rather
confused
at
being
thus
put
down
by
a
girl
of
sixteen
,
coughed
behind
his
hand
,
and
looked
round
the
room
for
a
subject
.
He
found
none
,
save
a
general
inquiry
after
the
health
of
Mary
,
Mrs.
Gray
,
and
Miss
Gray
.
"
They
're
all
well
enough
,
"
disdainfully
replied
Jane
.
"
Oh
,
are
they
!
I
see
the
rag
and
bottle
shop
is
shut
,
"
he
added
,
plunging
desperately
into
the
subject
.
"
S'pose
it
is
!
"
answered
Jane
,
eyeing
him
rather
defiantly
;
for
the
rag
and
bottle
woman
was
her
own
aunt
;
and
she
thought
the
observation
of
a
personal
nature
.
Though
much
taken
aback
,
Jones
,
spurred
on
by
the
irresistible
wish
to
know
,
ventured
on
another
question
.
"
You
do
n't
know
who
is
going
to
take
it
next
,
do
you
?
"
"
Oh
!
you
want
to
take
it
,
do
you
?
"
said
Jane
.
"
I
—
I
!
"
exclaimed
Jones
,
flurried
and
disconcerted
.
"
La
,
bless
the
young
woman
!
I
aint
in
the
rag
and
bottle
line
,
am
I
?
"
He
thought
by
this
artful
turn
to
throw
his
young
enemy
off
the
scent
;
but
her
rejoinder
showed
him
the
futility
of
the
attempt
.
"
I
did
n't
say
you
was
,
did
I
?
"
she
replied
,
drily
.
Jones
rose
precipitately
,
and
hastily
desiring
his
love
to
Mrs.
Gray
,
and
his
respects
to
Mary
,
he
retreated
most
shamefully
beaten
.
He
did
not
breathe
freely
until
he
reached
the
end
of
the
street
,
and
once
more
found
himself
opposite
the
closed
rag
shop
.
How
he
had
come
there
,
he
did
not
rightly
know
;
for
it
was
not
his
way
home
.
But
,
being
there
,
he
naturally
gave
it
another
look
.
He
stood
gazing
at
it
very
attentively
,
and
absorbed
in
thought
,
when
he
was
roused
by
a
sharp
voice
,
which
said
,
"
P'raps
you
'd
like
to
see
it
within
.
"
The
voice
came
from
above
.
Richard
looked
up
.
The
first
floor
window
was
open
,
and
a
man
's
head
was
just
thrust
out
of
it
.
It
looked
down
at
him
in
the
street
,
and
apparently
belonged
to
a
little
old
man
,
to
whom
one
very
sharp
eye
—
the
other
was
closed
up
quite
tight
—
and
a
long
nose
,
which
went
all
of
one
side
,
gave
a
rather
remarkable
appearance
.
"
Thank
you
,
sir
,
"
replied
Jones
,
rather
confused
.
"
I
—
I
—
"
Before
he
had
got
to
the
end
of
his
speech
,
the
old
man
vanished
from
the
window
,
and
suddenly
appeared
at
the
private
door
,
beckoning
him
in
.
"
Come
in
,
"
he
said
,
coaxingly
,
like
an
ogre
luring
in
an
unwary
little
boy
.
And
,
drawn
as
by
a
magnet
,
Jones
entered
.
"
Dark
passage
,
but
good
shop
,
"
said
the
old
man
.
He
opened
a
door
,
and
in
the
shop
suddenly
stepped
Richard
Jones
.
It
was
small
,
dirty
,
and
smelt
of
grease
and
old
rags
.
"
Good
shop
,
"
said
the
old
man
,
rubbing
his
hands
,
in
seeming
great
glee
;
"
neat
back
parlour
;
"
he
opened
a
glass
door
,
and
Jones
saw
a
triangular
room
,
not
much
larger
than
a
good-sized
cupboard
.
"
More
rooms
up
stairs
,
"
briskly
said
the
old
man
;
he
nimbly
darted
up
an
old
wooden
staircase
,
that
creaked
under
him
.
Mechanically
Jones
followed
.
There
were
two
rooms
on
the
upper
and
only
storey
;
one
of
moderate
size
;
the
other
,
a
little
larger
than
the
back
parlour
.
"
Good
shop
,
"
began
the
old
man
,
reckoning
on
his
fingers
,
"
ca-pital
shop
;
neat
parlour
—
very
neat
;
upper
storey
,
two
rooms
;
one
splendid
;
cosy
bed-room
;
rent
of
the
whole
,
only
thirty-five
pounds
a-year
—
only
thirty-five
pounds
a-year
!
"
The
repetition
was
uttered
impressively
.
"
Thank
you
—
much
obliged
to
you
,
"
began
Richard
Jones
,
wishing
himself
fairly
out
of
the
place
;
"
but
you
see
—
"
"
Stop
a
bit
,
"
eagerly
interrupted
the
old
man
,
catching
Jones
by
the
button-hole
,
and
fixing
him
,
as
the
'
Ancient
Mariner
'
fixed
the
wedding
guest
,
with
his
glittering
eye
,
"
stop
a
bit
;
you
take
the
house
,
keep
shop
,
parlour
,
and
bedroom
for
yourself
and
family
—
plenty
;
furnish
front
room
,
let
it
at
five
shillings
a
week
;
fifty-two
weeks
in
the
year
;
five
times
two
,
ten
—
put
down
naught
,
carry
one
;
five
times
five
,
twenty-five
,
and
one
,
twenty-six
—
two
hundred
and
sixty
shillings
,
make
thirteen
pounds
;
take
thirteen
pounds
from
thirty-five
—
"
"
Law
bless
you
,
Sir
!
"
hastily
interrupted
Jones
,
getting
frightened
at
the
practical
landlord
view
the
one-eyed
and
one-sided-nosed
old
man
seemed
to
take
of
his
presence
in
the
house
.
"
Law
bless
you
,
Sir
!
it
's
all
a
mistake
,
every
bit
of
it
.
"
"
A
mistake
!
"
interrupted
the
old
man
,
his
voice
rising
shrill
and
loud
.
"
A
mistake
!
five
times
two
,
ten
—
"
"
Well
,
but
I
could
n't
think
of
such
a
thing
,
"
in
his
turn
interrupted
Jones
.
"
I
—
"
"
Well
then
,
say
thirty
pound
,
"
pertinaciously
resumed
the
old
man
;
"
take
thirteen
from
thirty
—
"
"
No
,
I
ca
n't
then
—
really
,
I
ca
n't
,
"
desperately
exclaimed
Jones
;
"
on
my
word
I
ca
n't
.
"
"
Well
,
then
,
say
twenty-five
;
from
twenty-five
take
thirteen
—
"
"
I
tell
you
,
'
tai
n't
a
bit
of
use
your
taking
away
thirteen
at
that
rate
,
"
interrupted
Jones
,
rather
warmly
.
"
And
what
will
you
give
,
then
?
"
asked
the
old
man
,
with
a
sort
of
screech
.
"
Why
,
nothing
!
"
impatiently
replied
Jones
.
"
Who
ever
said
I
would
give
anything
?
I
did
n't
—
did
I
?
"
"
Then
what
do
you
come
creeping
and
crawling
about
the
place
for
?
"
hissed
the
old
man
,
his
one
eye
glaring
defiance
on
Jones
,
"
eh
!
just
tell
me
that
.
Why
,
these
two
months
you
've
crept
and
crept
,
and
crawled
,
and
crawled
,
till
you
've
sent
the
rag
and
bottle
people
away
.
'
Sir
,
'
says
the
rag
and
bottle
woman
to
me
,
'
Sir
,
we
ca
n't
stand
it
no
longer
.
There
's
a
man
,
Sir
,
and
he
prowls
around
the
shop
.
Sir
,
and
he
jist
looks
in
,
and
darts
off
agin
,
and
he
wo
n't
buy
no
rags
,
and
he
has
n't
no
bottles
to
sell
;
and
my
husband
and
me
,
Sir
,
we
ca
n't
stand
it
—
that
's
all
.
'
Well
,
and
what
have
you
got
to
say
to
that
,
I
should
like
to
know
?
"
Jones
,
who
never
had
a
very
ready
tongue
,
and
who
was
quite
confounded
at
the
accusation
,
remained
dumb
.
"
I
'll
tell
you
what
you
are
,
though
,
"
cried
the
old
man
,
his
voice
rising
still
higher
with
his
wrath
;
"
you
are
a
crawling
,
creeping
,
low
,
sneaking
fellow
!
"
"
Now
,
old
gentleman
!
"
cried
Jones
,
in
his
turn
losing
his
temper
,
"
just
keep
a
civil
tongue
in
your
head
,
will
you
?
I
did
n't
ask
to
come
in
,
did
I
?
And
if
I
did
look
at
the
shop
at
times
,
why
,
a
cat
can
look
at
a
king
,
ca
n't
he
?
"
Spite
of
the
excellence
of
the
reasoning
thus
popularly
expressed
,
Jones
perceived
that
the
old
man
was
going
to
renew
his
offensive
language
,
and
as
he
wisely
mistrusted
his
own
somewhat
hasty
temper
,
he
prudently
walked
downstairs
,
and
let
himself
out
.
But
then
he
reached
the
street
,
the
old
man
's
head
was
already
out
of
the
first-floor
window
,
and
Jones
turned
the
corner
pursued
with
the
words
"
creeping
,
"
"
crawling
.
"
He
lost
the
rest
.
CHAPTER
VI
.
Rachel
sat
alone
,
working
and
thinking
.
The
dull
street
was
silent
;
the
sound
and
stir
of
morning
,
alive
elsewhere
,
reached
it
not
;
but
the
sky
was
clear
and
blue
,
and
on
that
azure
field
mounted
the
burning
sun
,
gladdening
the
very
house-roofs
as
he
went
,
and
filling
with
light
and
life
the
quiet
parlour
of
Rachel
Gray
.
Mrs.
Gray
was
an
ignorant
woman
,
and
she
spoke
bad
English
;
but
her
literary
tastes
were
superior
to
her
education
and
to
her
language
.
Her
few
books
were
good
—
they
were
priceless
;
they
included
the
poetical
works
of
one
John
Milton
.
Whether
Mrs.
Gray
understood
him
in
all
his
beauty
and
sublimity
,
we
know
not
,
but
at
least
,
she
read
him
,
seriously
,
conscientiously
—
and
many
a
fine
lady
cannot
say
as
much
.
Rachel
,
too
,
read
Milton
,
and
loved
him
as
a
fine
mind
must
ever
love
that
noble
poet
.
That
very
morning
,
she
had
been
reading
one
of
his
sonnets
,
too
little
read
,
and
too
little
known
.
We
will
give
it
here
,
for
though
,
of
course
,
all
our
readers
are
already
acquainted
with
it
,
it
might
not
be
present
to
their
memory
.
"
When
I
consider
how
my
light
is
spent
Ere
half
my
days
,
in
this
dark
world
and
wide
,
And
that
one
talent
which
is
death
to
hide
,
Lodg
'd
with
me
useless
,
though
my
soul
more
bent
,
To
serve
therewith
my
Maker
,
and
present
My
true
account
,
lest
he
,
returning
,
chide
;
'
Doth
God
exact
day-labour
,
light
denied
?
'
I
fondly
ask
:
but
Patience
to
prevent
That
murmur
,
soon
replies
,
'
God
doth
not
need
Either
man
's
work
,
or
his
own
gifts
;
who
best
Bear
his
mild
yoke
,
they
serve
him
best
;
his
state
Is
kingly
;
thousands
at
his
bidding
speed
,
And
post
o'er
land
and
ocean
without
rest
;
They
also
serve
,
who
only
stand
and
wait
'
"
"
'
They
also
serve
who
only
stand
and
wait
,
'
"
thought
Rachel
,
brooding
over
the
words
,
as
was
her
wont
,
"
and
that
is
my
case
.
Oh
,
God
!
I
stand
and
wait
,
and
alas
!
I
do
nothing
,
for
I
am
blind
,
and
ignorant
,
and
helpless
,
and
what
am
I
that
the
Lord
should
make
use
of
me
;
yet
,
in
His
goodness
,
my
simple
readiness
to
do
His
will
,
He
takes
as
good
service
.
Oh
,
Rachel
!
happy
Rachel
!
to
serve
so
kind
a
master
.
"
Her
work
dropt
on
her
lap
;
and
so
deep
was
her
abstraction
,
that
she
heard
not
the
door
opening
,
and
saw
not
Richard
Jones
,
until
he
stood
within
a
few
paces
of
her
chair
.
She
gave
a
slight
start
on
perceiving
him
;
and
her
nervous
emotion
was
not
lessened
,
by
remarking
that
he
was
rather
pale
and
looked
excited
.
"
Mary
is
very
well
,
"
she
said
,
hastily
,
and
half
smiling
at
the
supposed
alarm
which
had
,
she
thought
,
brought
him
so
suddenly
in
upon
her
.
"
Of
course
she
is
—
of
course
she
is
,
"
he
replied
,
nodding
;
then
,
drawing
a
chair
near
to
Rachel
's
,
he
sat
down
upon
it
,
and
,
bending
forward
,
with
his
two
hands
resting
on
his
knees
,
he
said
,
in
a
deep
,
impressive
whisper
,
"
Miss
Gray
,
may
I
speak
to
you
?
I
want
you
to
advise
me
,
"
he
added
,
after
a
slight
pause
.
"
To
advise
you
,
Mr.
Jones
!
"
echoed
Rachel
,
looking
up
at
him
,
with
mild
astonishment
.
"
Yes
,
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
firmly
replied
;
and
,
slightly
clearing
his
throat
,
he
thus
began
:
"
Miss
Gray
,
I
aint
a
known
you
very
long
;
but
there
aint
another
in
this
wide
world
whom
I
respect
as
I
do
you
.
And
I
think
I
have
proved
it
;
for
have
n't
I
given
you
my
little
Mary
?
I
could
n't
do
more
,
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
added
,
with
energetic
earnestness
.
"
Yes
,
Miss
Gray
,
I
do
respect
you
;
and
that
is
why
I
want
you
to
advise
me
.
Now
,
this
is
the
whole
story
:
—
"
From
a
boy
,
Miss
Gray
,
I
have
wished
to
be
in
business
.
I
was
in
business
at
Mr.
Smith
's
,
Mr.
Smith
was
the
grandfather
of
my
little
Mary
,
but
not
on
my
account
;
and
that
's
not
quite
the
same
thing
,
you
see
.
And
I
have
wished
to
be
in
the
grocery
line
,
in
particular
,
because
of
understanding
it
so
much
better
,
from
having
been
brought
up
to
it
,
like
.
Now
,
Miss
Gray
,
here
's
the
plain
truth
of
the
case
.
Some
time
ago
,
I
found
out
,
by
chance
,
that
there
was
not
—
actually
,
that
there
was
not
a
grocer
's
shop
in
this
immediate
vicinity
!
"
Here
Mr.
Jones
held
up
his
forefinger
by
way
of
note
of
admiration
.
"
Well
,
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
resumed
impressively
,
"
that
thought
haunted
me
.
Why
here
was
the
very
place
for
me
!
A
grocer
was
wanted
.
I
found
out
,
too
,
that
the
rag
and
bottle
shop
round
the
corner
was
just
the
place
for
me
,
and
the
people
left
,
too
;
but
bless
you
.
Miss
Gray
,
'
t
was
all
not
a
bit
of
use
—
for
why
—
I
had
n't
got
no
capital
!
Well
,
Miss
Gray
,
to
make
a
long
story
short
,
a
cousin
of
mine
has
just
died
,
and
left
me
all
she
had
,
poor
thing
,
and
that
was
sixty
pound
.
Now
,
Miss
Gray
,
what
I
want
to
know
is
this
:
—
do
you
think
that
as
a
father
—
that
is
,
the
father
of
my
little
Mary
—
I
'm
justified
in
risking
that
money
by
setting
up
a
shop
,
or
that
it
's
my
duty
to
keep
it
all
up
for
the
child
?
"
He
looked
earnestly
in
Rachel
's
face
.
Ay
,
the
child
;
it
was
still
the
child
,
and
always
the
child
.
His
own
was
not
his
own
—
it
was
but
a
trust
held
for
his
little
Mary
.
"
Truly
,
Mr.
Jones
,
"
said
Rachel
,
smiling
,
"
you
can
do
what
you
like
with
your
own
.
"
"
No
,
indeed
,
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
rejoined
,
a
little
warmly
,
"
I
must
think
of
my
little
Mary
first
;
and
you
see
the
whole
question
is
,
which
is
best
for
her
.
Why
,
I
aint
slep
these
three
nights
with
thinking
on
it
,
and
so
,
at
last
,
I
thought
I
'd
come
to
you
.
"
Who
had
ever
asked
Rachel
for
advice
!
Rachel
the
simpleton
—
Rachel
the
slighted
and
laughed-at
dressmaker
?
Little
did
Mr.
Jones
know
how
nervous
he
made
the
poor
girl
;
besides
,
she
felt
quite
bewildered
at
the
strange
views
he
took
of
the
case
he
submitted
to
her
.
At
length
she
gathered
courage
,
and
looking
earnestly
in
his
face
with
her
mild
brown
eyes
,
she
spoke
.
"
Mr.
Jones
,
"
she
said
,
"
it
seems
to
me
that
as
the
money
is
yours
,
and
that
as
your
intentions
are
to
turn
it
to
a
good
account
,
you
have
a
right
to
do
with
it
as
you
please
.
I
think
,
too
,
that
you
are
likely
to
do
very
well
as
a
grocer
,
for
we
really
do
want
one
about
here
.
But
I
only
tell
you
what
I
think
.
I
do
not
advise
.
I
really
cannot
.
If
you
want
advice
,
Mr.
Jones
,
why
,
ask
it
of
one
who
cannot
mistake
,
for
He
is
not
liable
to
human
error
—
ask
it
of
God
Almighty
.
"
Richard
Jones
scratched
his
head
,
then
hung
it
down
ashamed
.
If
he
had
dared
,
he
would
have
asked
of
Rachel
how
he
was
to
ask
of
God
to
advise
him
,
and
,
especially
,
how
he
was
to
get
the
answer
!
Poor
fellow
!
he
had
an
excellent
hearty
some
faith
,
much
charity
,
but
the
world
's
net
was
around
him
.
His
life
was
not
like
that
of
Rachel
Gray
—
a
heaven
upon
earth
.
And
Rachel
,
who
laboured
under
the
disadvantages
of
a
narrow
education
,
and
a
narrow
life
,
who
had
not
enough
knowledge
and
enough
experience
of
human
nature
to
understand
clearly
that
there
were
states
of
mind
worlds
lower
than
her
own
,
did
not
suspect
that
she
had
given
Richard
Jones
the
worst
of
all
advice
—
that
which
the
receiver
cannot
follow
.
Alas
!
who
talks
of
God
now
!
who
listens
like
Adam
in
Eden
to
the
voice
of
the
Lord
,
and
treasures
in
his
or
her
own
heart
that
source
of
all
knowledge
?
And
we
complain
that
God
goes
away
from
us
;
that
His
face
is
dark
,
and
behind
the
cloud
;
that
in
the
days
of
adversity
we
find
him
not
.
Jones
rose
confused
,
muttered
thanks
,
then
hastily
changed
the
subject
by
asking
to
see
his
daughter
.
Even
as
he
spoke
,
the
door
opened
,
and
Mary
entered
.
She
did
not
show
much
pleasure
or
surprise
on
seeing
her
father
;
it
was
not
that
she
did
not
love
him
,
but
she
was
a
spoiled
child
,
too
much
accustomed
to
his
fondness
and
devotion
to
set
great
value
on
either
.
She
complained
of
the
heat
,
then
of
the
cold
,
sat
down
,
got
up
again
,
and
gave
herself
all
the
airs
of
a
precocious
woman
.
Her
father
,
leaning
on
his
stick
,
looked
at
her
with
admixing
fondness
,
and
occasionally
nodded
and
winked
at
Rachel
,
as
if
inviting
her
to
admire
likewise
.
At
length
,
with
a
half
stifled
sigh
—
for
he
never
parted
from
his
darling
without
regret
—
he
again
said
he
must
go
.
"
And
so
,
good-bye
,
my
little
Mary
,
"
he
added
,
kissing
her
,
but
the
peevish
child
half-turned
her
head
away
,
and
said
his
beard
hurt
her
.
"
You
hear
her
,
Miss
Gray
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
chuckling
,
"
does
not
care
a
pin
for
her
old
father
,
not
a
pin
,
"
and
chucking
Mary
's
chin
,
he
looked
down
at
her
fondly
.
"
Dear
me
,
father
,
how
can
you
?
"
asked
the
young
lady
,
rather
pettishly
.
Upon
which
,
Mr.
Jones
shook
his
head
,
looked
delighted
,
and
at
length
managed
to
tear
himself
away
.
"
And
is
it
thus
,
indeed
,
that
fathers
love
their
daughters
?
"
thought
Rachel
Gray
,
as
she
sat
alone
in
the
little
back
room
on
the
evening
of
that
day
.
"
And
is
it
thus
,
indeed
!
Oh
!
my
father
—
my
father
!
"
She
laid
down
the
book
she
had
been
attempting
to
read
.
She
leaned
her
brow
upon
her
hand
;
she
envied
none
,
but
her
heart
felt
full
to
over-flowing
.
Since
the
night
when
she
had
gone
to
look
at
her
father
,
as
we
have
recorded
,
Rachel
had
not
felt
strong
or
courageous
enough
to
attempt
more
.
Her
nature
was
timid
,
sensitive
and
shrinking
to
a
fault
,
and
circumstances
had
made
it
doubly
so
,
yet
the
repeated
sight
of
Richard
Jones
's
devoted
love
for
his
child
,
inspired
her
with
involuntary
hope
.
She
had
grown
up
in
the
belief
of
her
father
's
rooted
indifference
;
might
she
not
have
been
mistaken
?
was
it
not
possible
that
his
daughter
could
become
dear
to
Thomas
Gray
,
as
other
daughters
were
dear
to
their
father
?
Rachel
had
always
cherished
the
secret
hope
that
it
would
one
day
be
so
,
but
because
that
hope
was
so
precious
,
she
had
deferred
risking
it
,
lest
it
should
perish
irretrievably
.
She
now
felt
inwardly
urged
to
make
the
attempt
.
Why
should
she
not
,
like
the
prodigal
son
,
rise
and
go
to
her
father
?
"
I
will
,
"
she
thought
,
clasping
her
hands
,
her
cheeks
flushing
,
her
eyes
kindling
,
"
yes
,
I
will
go
to-morrow
,
and
my
father
shall
know
his
daughter
;
and
,
perhaps
,
who
knows
,
perhaps
God
Almighty
will
bless
me
.
"
Here
the
sound
of
a
sudden
tumult
in
the
little
court
close
by
,
broke
on
the
dream
of
Rachel
Gray
.
She
looked
,
and
she
saw
and
heard
Madame
Rose
gesticulating
and
scolding
,
to
the
infinite
amusement
of
a
crowd
of
boys
,
who
where
teazing
the
idiot
girl
.
The
wrath
of
Madame
Rose
was
something
to
see
.
Having
first
placed
her
protege
behind
herself
for
safety
—
as
if
her
own
little
body
could
do
much
for
the
protection
of
another
twice
its
size
—
Madame
Rose
next
put
herself
in
an
attitude
,
then
expostulated
with
,
then
scolded
,
then
denounced
the
persecutors
of
the
helpless
idiot
;
after
which
washing
her
hands
of
them
,
she
walked
backwards
to
her
cellar
,
scorning
to
turn
her
back
to
the
foe
.
But
the
enemy
,
nothing
daunted
,
showed
evident
intentions
of
besieging
her
in
her
stronghold
,
and
though
Madame
Rose
made
her
appearance
at
the
window
,
armed
with
a
broomstick
,
she
failed
to
strike
that
terror
into
the
hearts
of
her
assailants
,
which
the
formidable
nature
of
the
weapon
warranted
.
Fortunately
,
however
,
for
the
peace
of
the
little
French
lady
,
that
valiant
knight-errant
of
modern
times
,
the
policeman
,
having
made
his
appearance
at
the
entrance
of
the
court
,
a
scutter
,
then
a
rushing
flight
,
were
the
immediate
consequence
.
Ignorant
of
this
fact
,
Madame
Rose
ascribed
the
result
entirely
to
her
own
prowess
,
and
in
all
peace
of
