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Updated: May 29, 2025
Mrs Forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and Miss Dragwell quitted the house. Betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress, to gossip in the neighbourhood. Nicholas Forster was in the shop, but took no notice of Miss Dragwell as she passed through. He appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench.
Fanny Dragwell had many good qualities, and many others which were rather doubtful. One of the latter had procured her more enemies than at her age she had any right to expect. It was what the French term "malice," which bears a very different signification from the same word in our own language.
We shall leave the town of Overton to recover its quiet, for such a bustle had not occurred for many years, and Miss Dragwell to exult in the success of her plot, while we follow Mrs Forster to her new quarters.
Mr Dragwell has already made honourable mention of his wife; it will therefore only be necessary to add that he had one daughter, a handsome lively girl, engaged to a Mr Ramsden, the new surgeon of the place, who had stepped into the shoes and the good-will of one who had retired from forty years' practice upon the good people of Overton.
"Ha, ha, ha!" ejaculated the curate, who had just taken the equivoque which had occasioned Newton's mirth. "He, he, he!" This last merriment of Mr Dragwell appeared to the lady to be such a pointed insult to her, that she bounded out of the room, exclaiming, "that an alehouse would have been a more suitable rendezvous."
Mr Dragwell was the curate of the parish; a little fat man with bow-legs, who always sat upon the edge of the chair, leaning against the back, and twiddling his thumbs before him. He was facetious and good-tempered, but was very dilatory in everything.
"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 of you had better consult with Miss Dragwell.
It was a fair wind it was a foul wind for his sloop. All his ideas were engrossed by this one darling object, and it was no easy task to divert him from it. I ought to have mentioned that Mr Dragwell, the curate, was invariably accompanied by Mr Spinney, the clerk of the parish, a little spare man, with a few white hairs straggling on each side of a bald pate.
Mrs Forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and Miss Dragwell quitted the house. Betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress to gossip in the neighbourhood. Nicholas Forster was in the shop, but took no notice of Miss Dragwell as she passed through. He appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench.
"So far we have succeeded, my dear Mrs Forster," said Miss Dragwell; "I will now return home, and come back as soon as I can with the post-chaise.
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