intelligible to me; for it was in an unknown tongue—neither French nor Latin。 Whether it were Greek or German I could not tell。
“That is strong;” she said; when she had finished: “I relish it。” The other girl; who had lifted her head to listen to her sister; repeated; while she gazed at the fire; a line of what had been read。 At a later day; I knew the language and the book; therefore; I will here quote the line: though; when I first heard it; it was only like a stroke on sounding brass to me—conveying no meaning:—
“‘Da trat hervor Einer; anzusehen wie die Sternen Nacht。’ Good! good!” she exclaimed; while her dark and deep eye sparkled。 “There you have a dim and mighty archangel fitly set before you! The line is worth a hundred pages of fustian。 ‘Ich wage die Gedanken in der Schale meines Zornes und die Werke mit dem Gewichte meines Grimms。’ I like it!”
Both were again silent。
“Is there ony country where they talk i’ that way?” asked the old woman; looking up from her knitting。
“Yes; Hannah—a far larger country than England; where they talk in no other way。”
“Well; for sure case; I knawn’t how they can understand t’ one t’other: and if either o’ ye went there; ye could tell what they said; I guess?”
“We could probably tell something of what they said; but not all— for we are not as clever as you think us; Hannah。 We don’t speak German; and we cannot read it without a dictionary to help us。”
“And what good does it do you?”
“We mean to teach it some time—or at least the elements; as they say; and then we shall get more money than we do now。”
“Varry like: but give ower studying; ye’ve done enough for to… night。”
“I think we have: at least I’m tired。 Mary; are you?”
“Mortally: after all; it’s tough work fagging away at a language with no master but a lexicon。”
“It is; especially such a language as this crabbed but glorious Deutsch。 I wonder when St。 John will e home。”
“Surely he will not be long now: it is just ten (looking at a little gold watch she drew from her girdle)。 It rains fast; Hannah: will you have the goodness to look at the fire in the parlour?”
The woman rose: she opened a door; through which I dimly saw a passage: soon I heard her stir a fire in an inner room; she presently came back。
“Ah; childer!” said she; “it fair troubles me to go into yond’ room now: it looks so lonesome wi’ the chair empty and set back in a corner。”
She wiped her eyes with her apron: the two girls; grave before; looked sad now。
“But he is in a better place;” continued Hannah: “we shouldn’t wish him here again。 And then; nobody need to have a quieter death nor he had。”
“You say he never mentioned us?” inquired one of the ladies。
“He hadn’t time; bairn: he was gone in a minute; was your father。 He had been a bit ailing like the day before; but naught to signify; and when Mr。 St。 John asked if he would like either o’ ye to be sent for; he fair laughed at him。 He began again with a bit of a heaviness in his head the next day—that is; a fortnight sin’—and he went to sleep and niver wakened: he wor a’most stark when your brother went into t’ chamber and fand him。 Ah; childer! that’s t’ last o’ t’ old stock—for ye and Mr。 St。 John is like of different soart to them ‘at’s gone; for all your mother wor mich i’ your way; and a’most as book…learned。 She wor the pictur’ o’ ye; Mary: Diana is more like your father。”
I thought them so similar I could not tell where the old servant (for such I now concluded her to be) saw the difference。 Both were fair plexioned and slenderly made; both possessed faces full of distinction and intelligence。 One; to be sure; had hair a shade darker than the other; and there was a difference in their style of wearing it; Mary’s pale brown locks were parted and braided smooth: Diana’s duskier tresses covered her neck with thick curls。 The clock struck ten。
“Ye’ll want your supper; I am sure;” observed Hannah; “and so will Mr。 St。 John when he es in。”
And she proceeded to prepare the meal。 The ladies rose; they seemed about to withdraw to the parlour。 Till this moment; I had been so intent on watching them; their appearance and conversation had excited in me so keen an interest; I had half…forgotten my own wretched position: now it recurred to me。 More desolate; more desperate than ever; it seemed from contrast。 And how impossible did it appear to touch the inmates of this house with concern on my behalf; to make them believe in the truth of my wants and woes—to induce them to vouchsafe a rest for my wanderings! As I groped out the door; and knocked at it hesitatingly; I felt that last idea to be a mere chimera。 Hannah opened。
“What do you want?” she inquired; in a voice of surprise; as she surveyed me by the light of the candle she held。
“May I speak to your mistresses?” I said。
“You had better tell me what you have to say to them。 Where do you e from?”
“I am a stranger。”
“What is your business here at this hour?”
“I want a night’s shelter in an out…house or anywhere; and a morsel of bread to eat。”
Distrust; the very feeling I dreaded; appeared in Hannah’s face。 “I’ll give you a piece of bread;” she said; after a pause; “but we can’t take in a vagrant to lodge。 It isn’t likely。”
“Do let me speak to your mistresses。”
“No; not I。 What can they do for you? You should not be roving about now; it looks very ill。”
“But where shall I go if you drive me away? What shall I do?”
“Oh; I’ll warrant you know where to go and what to do。 Mind you don’t do wrong; that’s all。 Here is a penny; now go—”
“A penny cannot feed me; and I have no strength to go farther。 Don’t shut the door:… oh; don’t; for God’s sake!”
“I must; the rain is driving in—”
“Tell the young ladies。 Let me see them… ”
“Indeed; I will not。 You are not what you ought to be; or you wouldn’t make such a noise。 Move off。”