'I should not survive her,' said Mr Arbuthnot, one day in reply to
a chance observation of the rector's, 'nor indeed desire to do so.'
The gray-headed man seized and warmly pressed the husband's hand, and
tears of sympathy filled his eyes; yet did he, nevertheless, as in
duty bound, utter grave words on the sinfulness of despair under any
circumstances, and the duty, in all trials, however heavy, of patient
submission to the will of God. But the venerable gentleman spoke in a
hoarse and broken voice, and it was easy to see he _felt_ with Mr
Arbuthnot that the reality of an event, the bare possibility of which
shook them so terribly, were a cross too heavy for human strength to
bear and live.
It was of course decided that the expected heir or heiress should be
intrusted to a wet-nurse, and a Mrs Danby, the wife of a miller living
not very far from the rectory, was engaged for that purpose. I had
frequently seen the woman; and her name, as the rector and I were one
evening gossipping over our tea, on some subject or other that I
forget, came up.
'A likely person,' I remarked; 'healthy, very good-looking, and one
might make oath, a true-hearted creature. But there is withal a
timidity, a frightenedness in her manner at times which, if I may
hazard a perhaps uncharitable conjecture, speaks ill for that smart
husband of hers.'
'You have hit the mark precisely, my dear sir.
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