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Updated: May 14, 2025
Bragwell did not quite understand this, and Mrs. Incle went on. "What to do to get a penny I knew not. Making of filagree, or fringe, or card-purses, or cutting out paper, or dancing and singing was of no use in our village.
She implored that her father, though he refused to give her husband that fortune for which alone it was now too plain he married her, would at least allow her some subsistence; for that Mr. Incle was much in debt, and, she feared, in danger of a jail. The father's heart was half melted at this account, and his affection was for a time awakened; but Mrs.
Bragwell was so much afflicted at the disgraceful marriage of his daughter, who ran off with Timothy Incle, the strolling player, that he never fully recovered his spirits.
Incle, mildly, "I am now convinced that nothing is scandalous which is not wicked. Besides, we were in want; and necessity, as well as piety, would have reconciled me to this mean trade." Mr. Bragwell groaned, and bade her go on. "In the mean time my little George grew a fine boy; and I adored the goodness of God who in the sweetness of maternal love, had given me a reward for many sufferings.
Incle went on; "I got to this village about seven this morning; and while I sat on the church-yard wall to rest and meditate how I should make myself known at home, I saw a funeral; I inquired whose it was, and learned it was my sister's.
Bragwell, at that moment casting his eyes on her saw in this poor stranger the face of his own runaway daughter, Mrs. Incle. He groaned, but could not speak; and as he was turning away to conceal his anguish, the little boy fondly caught hold of his hand, lisping out, "O stay and give mammy some bread."
I trusted in my riches; I said, 'To-morrow shall be as this day and more abundant. I did not remember that for all these things God would bring me to judgment. I am not sure that I believe in a judgment: I am not sure that I believe in a God." Bragwell at length grew better, but he never recovered his spirits. The conduct of Mrs. Incle through life was that of an humble Christian.
Bragwell desired his daughter to tell him how she happened to be at that place at that time. In a weak voice she began: "My tale, sir, is short, but mournful." Now, I am very sorry that my readers must wait for this short, but mournful tale, a little longer. "I left your house, dear father," said Mrs. Incle, "with a heart full of vain triumph.
Look to the bloody and brainless head of her husband. O, Mr. Worthy, how does Providence mock at human foresight! I have been greedy of gain, that the son of Mr. Squeeze might be a great man; he is dead; while the child of Timothy Incle, whom I had doomed to beggary, will be my heir. Mr.
Neighbor Incle, in measuring out his tapes and ribands. I say all these may serve God just as acceptably in those employments as at church; I had almost said more so. Will. Ay, indeed; how can that be? Now you're too much on t'other side. Stock. Because a man's trials in trade being often greater, they give him fresh means of glorifying God, and proving the sincerity of religion.
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