he way they've been a cutting that 'sparagus. It ain't
cutting at all. It's just hocking it up;--what is fit, and what
isn't, all together. And they've been a-putting the plants in where
I didn't mean 'em, though they know'd I didn't mean 'em. I've stood
by, miss, and said never a word. I'd a died sooner. But, Miss
Lily, what my sufferings have been, 'cause of my feelings getting
the better of me about that--you know, miss--nobody will ever
tell;--nobody--nobody--nobody." Then Hopkins turned away and wept.
"Uncle," said Lily, creeping close up against his chair, "I want to
ask you a great favour."
"A great favour. Well, I don't think I shall refuse you anything at
present. It isn't to ask another earl to the house,--is it?"
"Another earl!" said Lily.
"Yes; haven't you heard? Miss Bell has been here this morning,
insisting that I should have over Lord De Guest and his sister for
the marriage. It seems that there was some scheming between Bell and
Lady Julia."
"Of course you'll ask them."
"Of course I must. I've no way out of it. It'll be all very well for
Bell, who'll be off to Wales with her lover; but what am I to do with
the earl and Lady Julia, when they're gone? Will you come and help
me?"
In answer to this, Lily of course promised that she would come and
help. "Indeed," said she, "I thought we were all asked up for the
day. And now for my favour. Uncle, you must forgive poor Hopkins."
"Forgive a fiddlestick!" said the squire.
"No, but you must. You can't think how unhappy he is."
"How can I forgive a man who won't forgive me. He goes prowling about
the place doing nothing; and he sends me back his wages, and he
looks as though he were going to murder some one; and all because he
wouldn't do as he was told. How am I to forgive such a man as that?"
"But, uncle, why not?"
"It would be his forgiving me. He knows very well that he may come
back whenever he pleases; and, indeed, for the matter of that he has
never gone away."
"But he is so very unhappy."
"What can I do to make him happier?"
"Just go down to his cottage and tell him that you forgive him."
"Then he'll argue with me."
"No; I don't think he will. He is too much down in the world for
arguing now."
"Ah! you don't know him as I do. All the misfortunes in the world
wouldn't stop that man's conceit. Of course I'll go if you ask me,
but it seems to me that I'm made to knock under to everybody. I hear
a great deal about ot
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