you're my A B, he says, write yourself down that, he says, the bad man,
with his jokes!--Berry went to service." Mrs. Berry's softness came upon
her. "So I tell ye, Berry went to service. He left the wife of his
bosom forlorn and he went to service; because he were allays an ambitious
man, and wasn't, so to speak, happy out of his uniform--which was his
livery--not even in my arms: and he let me know it. He got among them
kitchen sluts, which was my mournin' ready made, and worse than a widow's
cap to me, which is no shame to wear, and some say becoming. There's no
man as ever lived known better than my Berry how to show his legs to
advantage, and gals look at 'em. I don't wonder now that Berry was
prostrated. His temptations was strong, and his flesh was weak. Then
what I say is, that for a young married man--be he whomsoever he may be--
to be separated from the wife of his bosom--a young sweet thing, and he
an innocent young gentleman!--so to sunder, in their state, and be kep'
from each other, I say it's as bad as bad can be! For what is matrimony,
my dears? We're told it's a holy Ordnance. And why are ye so
comfortable in matrimony? For that ye are not a sinnin'! And they that
severs ye they tempts ye to stray: and you learn too late the meanin' o'
them blessin's of the priest--as it was ordained. Separate--what comes?
Fust it's like the circulation of your blood a-stoppin'--all goes wrong.
Then there's misunderstandings--ye've both lost the key. Then, behold
ye, there's birds o' prey hoverin' over each on ye, and it's which'll be
snapped up fust. Then--Oh, dear! Oh, dear! it be like the devil come
into the world again." Mrs. Berry struck her hands and moaned. "A day
I'll give ye: I'll go so far as a week: but there's the outside. Three
months dwellin' apart! That's not matrimony, it's divorcin'! what can it
be to her but widowhood? widowhood with no cap to show for it! And what
can it be to you, my dear? Think! you been a bachelor three months! and
a bachelor man," Mrs. Berry shook her head most dolefully, "he ain't
widow woman. I don't go to compare you to Berry, my dear young