'Dear me!'
'Master has no intentions, sir,' murmured Miggs as she sidled up to him,
'but to be as grateful as his natur will let him, for everythink he owns
which it is in his powers to appreciate. But we never, sir'--said Miggs,
looking sideways at Mrs Varden, and interlarding her discourse with a
sigh--'we never know the full value of SOME wines and fig-trees till we
lose 'em. So much the worse, sir, for them as has the slighting of 'em
on their consciences when they're gone to be in full blow elsewhere.'
And Miss Miggs cast up her eyes to signify where that might be.
As Mrs Varden distinctly heard, and was intended to hear, all that Miggs
said, and as these words appeared to convey in metaphorical terms a
presage or foreboding that she would at some early period droop beneath
her trials and take an easy flight towards the stars, she immediately
began to languish, and taking a volume of the Manual from a neighbouring
table, leant her arm upon it as though she were Hope and that her
Anchor. Mr Chester perceiving this, and seeing how the volume was
lettered on the back, took it gently from her hand, and turned the
fluttering leaves.
'My favourite book, dear madam.
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