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Updated: May 29, 2025
"I don't wonder at it," replied Mrs Forster; "nothing can excuse such provocation as I receive from my husband, stupid wretch!" "Good morning, Mrs Forster; do you think then that you could bear moving?" "O yes! O yes! But where am I to go?" "That I really cannot form an idea you had better consult with Miss Dragwell.
"Name it, my dear Miss Dragwell, name it!" cried Mrs Forster, imploringly. "You must pretend to be mad, and then there will be a verdict of insanity; but you must carry it through everything, or it will be thought you are shamming.
Late in the evening, a message was received from Newton Forster, requesting that Mr Ramsden would attend his mother. He had just visited the old clerk, who was now sensible, and had nothing to complain of except a deep cut on his temple from the rim of the pewter-pot. After receiving a few parting injunctions from Miss Dragwell, Mr Ramsden quitted the parsonage.
"Well, then, we must be quick don't put your gown on petticoats are better I'll dress you up." Miss Dragwell rummaged the drawers, and collecting a variety of feathers and coloured ribbons, pinned them over the bandages which encircled Mrs Forster's head; then pulling out a long-tailed black coat of her husband's, which had been condemned, forced her arms through it, and buttoned it in front.
Sad thing indeed, Mrs Forster, to be placed in such a situation by a foolish husband." "You may well say that, Mr Ramsden," replied the lady, with asperity; "he is the greatest fool that ever God made! Every one knows what a sweet temper I was before I married; but flesh and blood cannot bear what I am subjected to." "Would you like to see Miss Dragwell?"
But Mr Dragwell did not admire such remonstrance; so taking his pipe out of his mouth, he retorted "If your husband does put up a sign, I recommend him to stick you up as the 'Good Woman; that would be without your head Ha, ha, ha!" "He, he, he!" "He, he, he! you pitiful 'natomy," cried Mrs Forster, in a rage, turning to the clerk, as she dared not revenge herself upon the curate.
"I'll open the window and speak to the people," said Miss Dragwell; and she threw up the sash, informing the gaping multitude that Mrs Forster was quite out of her senses, but perfectly harmless. "Perfectly harmless, after killing a man!" observed one of the party below. "They won't believe me, Mrs Forster; come, you must, or you will certainly be hanged."
"To me, boy! no; I think that you had better manage that, for you know you are only occasionally at home." "Well, father, be it so," replied Newton, laughing: "but here comes Mr Dragwell and Mr Hilton, to consult with us what ought to be done relative to the effects of poor old Thompson. He has neither kith nor kin, to the ninety-ninth degree, that we can find out."
"certainly better than I can; but still she's " "She's a beauty, Mr Forster." "Mrs Forster a beauty!" cried Nicholas, looking at Hilton with astonishment. Newton and Hilton burst into a laugh. "No, no," said the latter, "I was talking about the sloop; but we had better proceed to business. Suppose we have pipes, Mr Forster; Mr Dragwell, what do you say?"
Nicholas stared, and was about to throw in a detached word or two, by way of vindication, when a furious "Begone!" from his wife occasioned a precipitate retreat. "We have all been consulting about this sad business, my dear Mrs Forster," commenced Miss Dragwell; "and after much consideration have hit upon the only plan by which you may escape the penalty of the law.
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