This was at the expiration of about six weeks.
I had suffered tortures all the time; and thought I really must have laid violent hands upon myself, when Miss Mills still reported to me, that my broken-hearted little Dora would say nothing, when I was mentioned, but
‘Oh, poor papa!
Oh, dear papa!’
Also, that she had no other relations than two aunts, maiden sisters of Mr. Spenlow, who lived at Putney, and who had not held any other than chance communication with their brother for many years.
Not that they had ever quarrelled (Miss Mills informed me); but that having been, on the occasion of Dora’s christening, invited to tea, when they considered themselves privileged to be invited to dinner, they had expressed their opinion in writing, that it was ‘better for the happiness of all parties’ that they should stay away. Since which they had gone their road, and their brother had gone his.
These two ladies now emerged from their retirement, and proposed to take Dora to live at Putney.
Dora, clinging to them both, and weeping, exclaimed,
‘O yes, aunts! Please take Julia Mills and me and Jip to Putney!’
So they went, very soon after the funeral.
How I found time to haunt Putney, I am sure I don’t know; but I contrived, by some means or other, to prowl about the neighbourhood pretty often.
Miss Mills, for the more exact discharge of the duties of friendship, kept a journal; and she used to meet me sometimes, on the Common, and read it, or (if she had not time to do that) lend it to me.
How I treasured up the entries, of which I subjoin a sample—!
‘Monday.
My sweet D. still much depressed.
Headache.
Called attention to J. as being beautifully sleek.
D. fondled J.
Associations thus awakened, opened floodgates of sorrow. Rush of grief admitted. (Are tears the dewdrops of the heart?
J.
M.)
‘Tuesday.
D. weak and nervous.
Beautiful in pallor. (Do we not remark this in moon likewise?
J.
M.) D., J.
M. and J. took airing in carriage.
J. looking out of window, and barking violently at dustman, occasioned smile to overspread features of D. (Of such slight links is chain of life composed!
J.
M.)
‘Wednesday.
D. comparatively cheerful.
Sang to her, as congenial melody, “Evening Bells”.
Effect not soothing, but reverse. D. inexpressibly affected. Found sobbing afterwards, in own room.
Quoted verses respecting self and young Gazelle. Ineffectually. Also referred to Patience on Monument. (Qy. Why on monument?
J.
M.)
‘Thursday.
D. certainly improved.
Better night.
Slight tinge of damask revisiting cheek.
Resolved to mention name of D. C. Introduced same, cautiously, in course of airing.
D. immediately overcome.
“Oh, dear, dear Julia! Oh, I have been a naughty and undutiful child!”
Soothed and caressed. Drew ideal picture of D.
C. on verge of tomb.
D. again overcome.
“Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?
Oh, take me somewhere!”
Much alarmed.