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Please
don't talk to me any more. I am more tired than I thought, and something
makes me very sick."
He was as white as ashes, and with all her better, softer nature roused,
for Martha was at heart a very good woman, she helped him to a chair,
and bathed his head in alcohol, and rubbed his hands, and did not
question him again. But she made him swallow the herb tea, and she kept
on talking herself, wondering what Hannah would do after her father was
gone. Would she stay there alone, or live with her brother? Most likely
the former, as Mrs. Jerrold would never have her in her family, and
really, one could not blame her, Hannah was so peculiar and queer. Pity
was that she had never married; an old maid was always in the way.
And then Mrs. Martha, as if bent on torturing her husband, to whom every
word was a stab, wondered if any man ever had wanted Hannah Jerrold for
his wife, and asked her husband if he had ever heard of any such thing.
"I should not be likely to know it," he replied, "for until you came, I
never heard any gossip.


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