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Updated: May 12, 2025
But the whole was like a dream to me; it was the plot of an infamous woman to endeavor to make herself respectable by means of a marriage, no matter to whom or how that marriage was effected. Meanwhile, the Montpelier papers had the whole story, one of them publishing a glowing account of my elopement with Miss Gurnsey, and the facts of our marriage at Saratoga was duly chronicled.
He has learned, by a practical lesson, very similar to the famous 'Gurnsey Market House' exploit, that labor unaided by capital, can produce an abundance of things which go to make up the wealth of the nation, the community or the individual; while capital unaided by labor can produce nothing.
"Nonsense, David!" laughed Miss Holbrook a little nervously. "Mr. Mr. Gurnsey doesn't want to see me. He's seen me dozens of times." "Oh, yes, he told me he'd seen you long ago," nodded David gravely; "but he didn't act as if he remembered it much." "Didn't he, indeed!" laughed Miss Holbrook, again flushing a little.
Of course, if he gets better " She hesitated; then lifted her chin a little higher; "WHEN he gets better," she corrected with courageous emphasis, "he will want to see you." "And he shall see me," asserted Gurnsey. "And he will be better, Mrs. Holly, I'm sure he will." "Yes, yes, of course, only oh, Mr. Jack, he's so sick so very sick!
Holly herself answered his low knock. She looked worn and pale. "Thank you, sir," she said gratefully, in reply to his offer of assistance, "but there isn't anything you can do, Mr. Gurnsey. We're having everything done that can be, and every one is very kind. We have a very good nurse, and Dr. Kennedy has had consultation with Dr. Benson from the Junction.
"He is that is, he will be, soon except for you, Mr. Gurnsey," smiled Miss Holbrook, very brightly. She was already on her feet. "No, no, I beg of you," stammered Mr. Jack, growing still more red. "Don't let me drive that is, I mean, don't go, please. I didn't know. I had no warning I didn't see Your carriage was not at the door to-day." Miss Holbrook's eyebrows rose the fraction of an inch.
Wouldn't they bring anything?" Streeter's round blue eyes gleamed shrewdly. Higgins gave a slow shake of his head. "Maybe if there was a market for 'em. But who'd buy 'em? There ain't a soul in town plays but Jack Gurnsey; and he's got one. Besides, he's sick, and got all he can do to buy bread and butter for him and his sister without taking in more fiddles, I guess. HE wouldn't buy 'em."
About my first and worst wife, at intervals I heard something from Henry, who was still with her, and who frequently wrote to me when he was well enough to do so. Margaret Bradley and Eliza Gurnsey were still carrying on the millinery business in Rutland, and in Montpelier, and were no doubt weaving other and new webs in hopes of catching fresh flies.
There was a milliner at Rutland whose family and, friends all believed to be my wife, though she knew she was not; and here in Montpelier, was ready waiting, like a spider for a fly, another milliner who was about to enmesh me in the matrimonial net. I had not been in the place a week before I became acquainted with Eliza Gurnsey.
"Tut, tut, David, it's a long story, and you wouldn't understand it if I told it. It's only that they're all alone in the world, and Jack Gurnsey isn't well. He must be thirty years old now. He had bright hopes not so long ago studying law, or something of the sort, in the city. Then his father died, and his mother, and he lost his health.
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