“Then you may be sure of me, John dear, for I can put perfect faith in you, and I do, and I always, always will. Don’t judge me by a little thing like this, John. In little things, I am a little thing myself—I always was. But in great things, I hope not; I don’t mean to boast, John dear, but I hope not!”
He was even better convinced of the truth of what she said than she was, as he felt her loving arms about him. If the Golden Dustman’s riches had been his to stake, he would have staked them to the last farthing on the fidelity through good and evil of her affectionate and trusting heart.
“Now, I’ll go down to, and go away with, Mr. Lightwood,” said Bella, springing up. “You are the most creasing and tumbling Clumsy-Boots of a packer, John, that ever was; but if you’re quite good, and will promise never to do so any more (though I don’t know what you have done!) you may pack me a little bag for a night, while I get my bonnet on.”
He gaily complied, and she tied her dimpled chin up, and shook her head into her bonnet, and pulled out the bows of her bonnet-strings, and got her gloves on, finger by finger, and finally got them on her little plump hands, and bade him goodbye and went down. Mr. Lightwood’s impatience was much relieved when he found her dressed for departure.
“ Mr. Rokesmith goes with us?” he said, hesitating, with a look towards the door.
“Oh, I forgot!” replied Bella. “His best compliments. His face is swollen to the size of two faces, and he is to go to bed directly, poor fellow, to wait for the doctor, who is coming to lance him.”
“It is curious,” observed Lightwood, “that I have never yet seen Mr. Rokesmith, though we have been engaged in the same affairs.”
“Really?” said the unblushing Bella.