“Never!”saidMissGlover,withconviction,seeingavividpictureofherselfinsuchaposition.
MissGloverwasunaltered.Timepassedoverherheadpowerlesslyshestilllookedanythingbetweenfive-and-twentyandforty,herhairwasnomorewashed-out,herfigureinitsarmourofblackclothwasasjuvenileaseverandnotanewideanorathoughthadenteredhermind.ShewaslikeAlice’squeen,whoranatthetopofherspeedandremainedinthesameplacebutwithMissGlovertheprocesswasreversed:theworldmovedon,apparentlyfasterandfasterasthecenturydrewnearitsend,butsheremainedfixed—anincarnationoftheeighteen-eighties.
Thedaybeforethe11tharrived.ThehoundsweretomeetattheShareandCoulter,aswhenEdwardhadbeenthrown.HesentforDr.RamsaytoassureBerthathathewasquitefitandaftertheexamination,broughthimintothedrawing-room.
“Dr.Ramsaysaysmycollar-boneisstrongerthanever.”
“ButIdon’tthinkheoughttoridetheroannotwithstanding.Can’tyoupersuadeEdwardnotto,Bertha?”
BerthalookedfromthedoctortoEdward,smiling.“I’vedonemybest.”
“Berthaknowsbetterthantobother,”saidEdward.“Shedon’tthinkmuchofmeasachurchwarden,butwhenahorseisconcerned,shedoestrustmedon’tyou,dear?”
“Ireallydo.”
“There,”saidEdward,muchpleased,“that’swhatIcallagoodwife.”
NextdaythehorsewasbroughtroundandBerthafilledEdward’sflask.
“You’llburymenicelyifIbreakmyneck,won’tyou?”hesaid,laughing.“You’llorderahandsometombstone.”
“Mydear,you’llnevercometoaviolentend.Ifeelcertainyouwilldieinyourbedwhenyou’reahundredandtwo,withacrowdofdescendantsweepingroundyou.You’rejustthatsortofman.”
“Ha,ha!”helaughed.“Idon’tknowwherethedescendantsarecomingin.”
“IhaveapresentimentthatIamdoomedtomakewayforFannyGlover.I’msurethere’safatalityaboutit.I’vefeltforyearsthatyouwilleventuallymarryher,andit’shorridofmetohavekeptyouwaitingsolong—especiallyasshepinesforyou,po