WYLDER'S HAJVD.
US
you do. I don't want you to do anything —- upon my
honor I don't— only just to exercise your common sense
— and you have lots of sense, Radie. Don't you know
very well, in a small place like this, they are all alive
with curiosity? and if you choose to make such a tragedy
figure, and keep moping and crying, and all that sort of
thing, and look so funeste and miserable, you'll be sure to
fix attention and set the whole d—d place speculating and
gossiping? and really, Radie, you're making mountains
of mole-hills. It is because you live so solitary here,
and it is such a gloomy out-o'-the-way spot — so awfully
dark and damp, nobody could be well here, and you real-
ly must change. It is the very temple of blue-devilry,
and I assure you if I lived as you do I'd cut my throat
before a month — you musri't. And old Tamar, you
know, such a figure! She gives me the horrors, I assure
you, whenever I look at her; you must not keep her,
she's of no earthly use, poor old thing; and, you know,
Radie, we're not rich enough — you and I — to support
other people. You must really place yourself more cheer-
fully, and I'll speak to Chelford about Tamar. There's
a very nice place — an asylum, or something, for old
women — near — (Dollington he was going to say, but
the associations were not pleasant) — near some of those
little towns close to this, and he's a visitor, or governor,
or whatever they call it. It is really not fair to expect
you or me to keep people like that."
"She has not cost you much hitherto, Stanley, and she
will give you very little trouble hereafter. I won't part
with Tamar.
"She has not cost me much ?" said Lake, whose temper
was not of a kind to pass by anything. "No; of course,
she has not. / can't afford a guinea. You're poor
enough; but in proportion to my expenses — I'm a