It can't be true, and him such a
good man, and such a preacher as he is, with all the gentry round coming
in their carnages to church."
"Well, it mayn't be true," answered Mrs. Brown, slowly, as if the
arguments used by Ann Holland were almost weighty enough to outbalance
the cook's evidence; "I hope it isn't true, I'm sure. But they say at
Bolton Villa it's a awful lonely life she do lead without Master
Charlie, and Mrs. Bolton away so much. It 'ud give me the horrors, I
know, to live in that house with all those white plaster men and women
as big as life, standing everywhere about staring at you with blind
eyes. I should want something to keep up my spirits. But I'm sure nobody
could be sorrier than me if it turned out to be true."
"Sorry!" exclaimed Ann Holland, "why, I'd cut my right hand off to
prevent it being true. No words can tell how good Mr. Chantrey's been to
me. Everybody knows what my poor brother is, and how he'll drink and
drink for weeks together. Well, Mr. Chantrey's turned in here of an
evening, and if Richard was away at the Upton Arms, he's gone after him
into the very bar-room itself, and brought him home, just guiding him
and handling him like a baby, poor fellow! Often and often he's promised
to take the pledge with Richard, but he never could get him to say Yes.
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