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“And as to religion–dear good mother, listen to me. Look at me–see if religion has been a fashion or a plaything to me. If it had not stood by me when my heart was as heavy as yours, what profit should I have in it?

“Christian’s grandmother–you are his grandmother, I know, and have the better right to him–if you cannot agree to my plans–if you won’t let me help you about him–if you hide him from me, and I must live out my life and never see his dear face again–spare me the hope of seeing it when this life is over.

“If I did my best for your grandson–and you know I did–oh! for the love of Christ, our only Refuge, do not stand between him and the Father of us all!

“If you have felt what he must suffer if he is poor, and if you know so well how little it makes sure of happiness to be rich–if in a long life you have found out how hard it is to be good, and how rare it is to be happy–if you know what it is to love and lose, to hope and to be disappointed in one’s hoping–let him be religious, good mother!

“If you care for Christian, leave him the only strength that is strong enough to hold us back from sin, and to do instead of joy.”

The tinker-mother lifted her head; but before she could say a word, the young gentleman burst into indignant speech.

“Gertrude, I can bear it no longer. Not even for you, not even for the chance of getting Christian back. It’s empty swagger to say that I wish to GOD I’d the chance of giving my life to get him back for you. But you must come home now. I’ve bitten my lip through in holding my tongue, but I won’t see you kneel another minute at the feet of that sulky old gipsy hag.”

Whilst he was speaking the tinker-mother had risen to her feet, and when she stood quite upright she was much taller than I had thought. The young gentleman had moved to take his cousin by the hand, but the old woman waved him back.

“Stay where you are, young gentleman,” she said. “This is no matter for boys to mix and meddle in. Sybil, my daughter–Sybil, I say! Come and stand near me, for I gets confused at times, and I fears I may not explain myself to the noble gentlewoman with all the respect that I could wish. She says a great deal that is very true, my daughter, and she has no vulgar insolence in her manners of speaking. I thinks I shall let her do as she says, if we can get Christian out, which perhaps, if she is cousin to any of the justiciary, she may be able to do.

“The poor tinker-folk returns you the deepest of obligations, my gentle lady. If she’ll let me see him when I wants to, it will be best, my daughter; for I thinks I am failing, and I shouldn’t like to leave him with George and that drunken slut.

“I thinks I am failing, I say. Trouble and age and the lone company of your own thoughts, my noble gentlewoman, has a tendency to confuse you, though I was always highly esteemed for the facility of my speech, especially in the telling of fortunes.

“Let the poor gipsy look into your white hand, my pretty lady. The lines of life are somewhat broken with trouble, but they joins in peace. There’s a dark young gentleman with a great influence on your happiness, and I sees grandchildren gathered at your knees.

“What did the lady snatch away her hand for, my daughter? I means no offence. She shall have Christian. I have told her so. Tell him to get ready and go before his father gets back. He’s a bad ‘un is my son George, and I knows now that she was far too good for him.