I swore to my
mother that I never would, and had she been alive to-day----. But Bess
always liked her glass, and drinking alone is no company. Ah! if my
mother had lived everything would have been different, for I outgrew the
bad fit and might have become quite a decent fellow. But then I met Bess
again by chance, and she had the old hold on me, and there was none to
keep me back, and she knew how to play her fish until I married her. The
old aunt never found it out. If she had I shouldn't have 8,000 pounds a
year to-day. I lied to her about that, and I wonder what she thinks
of me now, if she can think where she is gone. I wonder what my mother
thinks also, and my father, who was a good man by all accounts, though
nobody seems to remember much about him. Supposing that they could see
me now, supposing that they could have been at that supper party and
witnessed the conjugal interview between me and the female creature who
is my legal wife, what would they think? Well, they are dead and can't,
for the dead don't come back. The dead are just a few double handfuls of
dirt, no more, and since no doubt I shall join them before very long, I
thank God for it, or rather I would if there were a God to thank.
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