Xxvi

For Mary had sunk, and her body was shaking, as if in a fit. Tom’s letter she held, and her thumb-nail the month when the letter was writ Fast-dinted, while she hung sobbing: ‘O, see, Sir, the letter is old! O, do not be too happy!’—‘If I understand you, I’m bowled!’ Said Grandfather Bridgeman, ‘and down go my wickets!—not happy! when here, Here’s Tom like to marry his General’s daughter—or widow—I’ll swear!