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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"


'My dear Martha,' said the locksmith, 'how can you say such things,
when you know you don't mean them? If you were dying! Why, if there was
anything serious the matter with you, Martha, shouldn't I be in constant
attendance upon you?'
'Yes!' cried Mrs Varden, bursting into tears, 'yes, you would. I don't
doubt it, Varden. Certainly you would. That's as much as to tell me that
you would be hovering round me like a vulture, waiting till the breath
was out of my body, that you might go and marry somebody else.'
Miggs groaned in sympathy--a little short groan, checked in its birth,
and changed into a cough. It seemed to say, 'I can't help it. It's wrung
from me by the dreadful brutality of that monster master.'
'But you'll break my heart one of these days,' added Mrs Varden, with
more resignation, 'and then we shall both be happy. My only desire is
to see Dolly comfortably settled, and when she is, you may settle ME as
soon as you like.'
'Ah!' cried Miggs--and coughed again.
Poor Gabriel twisted his wig about in silence for a long time, and then
said mildly, 'Has Dolly gone to bed?'
'Your master speaks to you,' said Mrs Varden, looking sternly over her
shoulder at Miss Miggs in waiting.


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