CHAPTER XXIX

It was like the momentary contest in the moist eye-lids of an _April_ morning, “Whether _Bridget_ should laugh or cry.”

She snatched up a rolling-pin----’twas ten to one, she had laugh’d----

She laid it down----she cried; and had one single tear of ’em but tasted of bitterness, full sorrowful would the corporal’s heart have been that he had used the argument; but the corporal understood the sex, a _quart major to a terce_ at least, better than my uncle _Toby_, and accordingly he assailed Mrs. _Bridget_ after this manner.

I know, Mrs. _Bridget_, said the corporal, giving her a most respectful kiss, that thou art good and modest by nature, and art withal so generous a girl in thyself, that, if I know thee rightly, thou would’st not wound an insect, much less the honour of so gallant and worthy a soul as my master, wast thou sure to be made a countess of----but thou hast been set on, and deluded, dear _Bridget_, as is often a woman’s case, “to please others more than themselves----”

_Bridget’s_ eyes poured down at the sensations the corporal excited.

----Tell me----tell me, then, my dear _Bridget_, continued the corporal, taking hold of her hand, which hung down dead by her side, ----and, giving a second kiss----whose suspicion has misled thee?

_Bridget_ sobb’d a sob or two----then open’d her eyes----the corporal wiped ’em with the bottom of her apron----she then open’d her heart and told him all.

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