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Updated: May 8, 2025
I suppose it is only fatigue, and that he has taken too long a walk." "I don't believe in the long walk, Miss," said Betsy, "it's that Cotsdean as is always a-tormenting with his dirty letters. When that man comes bothering here, master is always put out." "Cotsdean? I don't know the name." "Don't say nothing, Miss," said Betsy, sinking her voice, "but you take my word it's money.
Were these the young ladies, who, though they knew nothing about the matter at issue, very frequently brought a note, or message, from their father to Cotsdean? But he was deceived in these guesses as well as in so many others. All the world seemed out of doors that morning, but nobody came.
I've got seven children," said the poor man, with a sob breaking his voice, "and a missus; and nothing as isn't in the business, not a penny, except a pound or two in a savings' bank, as would never count. And I don't deny as he could sell me up; but oh! Miss, he knows very well it ain't for me." "Mr. Cotsdean," said Phoebe, impressively, "you don't know, I suppose, that Mr.
He did not even take the trouble to put away those blue papers, which he would have done if any other individual, even if one of his children had come into the room. "Good evening, Cotsdean," he said, in a friendly tone. "Well, what news?" "Nothing as is pleasant, sir," said the man, sitting down on a corner of his chair.
"Yes, it is, Cotsdean," said the clergyman, "it is a decided advantage, for it shows there is nothing to be hoped from that quarter, and that is always good even though it's bad bad, as bad as can be " "You may say so, sir," said Cotsdean. "I don't know what's to be done no more than the babe unborn, and it's wearing me to death, that's what it's doing.
He was not a cruel or bad man, and would have suffered keenly had anything happened to poor Cotsdean and his family on his account. But they must be sacrificed if it came to that, and the thought was very appalling. What was he to do? His friends were exhausted, and so were his expedients.
Poor Cotsdean's struggles and sufferings arose, at the present moment, entirely from the fact that he had allowed himself to be made use of for Mr. May's occasions, and both the men were perfectly aware of this. But though he gasped, Cotsdean was too much under the influence of his clergyman to do anything more.
May justice, if it had been only himself who could be ruined, he would have felt it less; but it went to his very heart to think of poor Cotsdean, who had trusted in him so entirely, and to whom, indeed, he had been very kind in his day. Strife and discord had been in the poor man's house, and perpetual wretchedness, and Mr. May had managed, he himself could scarcely tell how, to set it right.
May was doing anything to avert this ruin, and whether, at any moment, he might walk in, bringing safety in the very look of his bold eyes. Cotsdean was not bold; he was small and weakly, and nervous, and trembled at a sharp voice. He was not a man adapted for vigorous struggling with the world. Mr. May could do it, in whose hands was the final issue.
What a thing it was to be a gentleman and a clergyman. Cotsdean could not but think! The very sight of Mr. May inspired him with courage; even though probably he had no money in his pocket, it was a supporting thing only to see him, and hear the sound of his free unrestrained step.
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