I had no intentions, mim,
that nobody should know. Such sacrifices as I can make, are quite a
widder's mite. It's all I have,' cried Miggs with a great burst of
tears--for with her they never came on by degrees--'but it's made up to
me in other ways; it's well made up.'
This was quite true, though not perhaps in the sense that Miggs
intended. As she never failed to keep her self-denial full in Mrs
Varden's view, it drew forth so many gifts of caps and gowns and other
articles of dress, that upon the whole the red-brick house was perhaps
the best investment for her small capital she could possibly have hit
upon; returning her interest, at the rate of seven or eight per cent in
money, and fifty at least in personal repute and credit.
'You needn't cry, Miggs,' said Mrs Varden, herself in tears; 'you
needn't be ashamed of it, though your poor mistress IS on the same
side.'
Miggs howled at this remark, in a peculiarly dismal way, and said she
knowed that master hated her. That it was a dreadful thing to live in
families and have dislikes, and not give satisfactions. That to make
divisions was a thing she could not abear to think of, neither could her
feelings let her do it.
Pages:
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552