Left alone with his son, John Barty sat a while staring up at the
bell-mouthed blunderbuss very much as though he expected it to go
off at any moment; at last, however, he rose also, hesitated, laid
down his pipe upon the mantel-shelf, glanced down at Barnabas,
glanced up at the blunderbuss again and finally spoke:
"And remember this, Barnabas, your--your--mother, God bless her
sweet soul, was a great lady, but I married her, and I don't think
as she ever--regretted it, lad. Ye see, Barnabas, when a good woman
really loves a man--that man is the only man in the world for her,
and--nothing else matters to her, because her love, being a good love,
d' ye see--makes him--almost worthy. The love of a good woman is a
sweet thing, lad, a wondrous thing, and may lift a man above all
cares and sorrows and may draw him up--ah! as high as heaven at last,
and--well--there y' are, Barnabas, dear lad."
Having said this, the longest speech Barnabas ever heard his father
utter, John Barty laid his great hand lightly upon his son's bent
head and treading very softly, for a man of his inches, followed
Natty Bell out of the room.
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