The good old dame never
stirred from his bedside, where she sat knitting from morning till
night; while his daughter busied herself about him with the fondest
care. Nor did they lack assistance from abroad. Whatever may be said of
the desertions of friends in distress, they had no complaint of the
kind to make. Not an old wife of the neighborhood but abandoned her
work to crowd to the mansion of Wolfert Webber, inquire after his
health and the particulars of his story. Not one came, moreover,
without her little pipkin of pennyroyal, sage, balm, or other herb-tea,
delighted at an opportunity of signalizing her kindness and her
doctorship. What drenchings did not the poor Wolfert undergo, and all
in vain. It was a moving sight to behold him wasting away day by day;
growing thinner and thinner and ghastlier and ghastlier, and staring
with rueful visage from under an old patchwork counterpane upon the
jury of matrons kindly assembled to sigh and groan and look unhappy
around him.
Dirk Waldron was the only being that seemed to shed a ray of sunshine
into this house of mourning. He came in with cheery look and manly
spirit, and tried to reanimate the expiring heart of the poor
money-digger, but it was all in vain. Wolfert was completely done over.
If any thing was wanting to complete his despair, it was a notice
served upon him in the midst of his distress, that the corporation were
about to run a new street through the very centre of his cabbage
garden. He saw nothing before him but poverty and ruin; his last
reliance, the garden of his forefathers, was to be laid waste, and what
then was to become of his poor wife and child?
His eyes filled with tears as they followed the dutiful Amy out of the
room one morning. Dirk Waldron was seated beside him; Wolfert grasped
his hand, pointed after his daughter, and for the first time since his
illness broke the silence he had maintained.
"I am going!" said he, shaking his head feebly, "and when I am gone - my
poordaughter - "
"Leave her to me, father!" said Dirk, manfully - "I'll take care of
her!"
Wolfert looked up in the face of the cheery, strapping youngster, and
saw there was none better able to take care of a woman.
"Enough," said he, "she is yours! - and now fetch me a lawyer - let me
make my will and die."
The lawyer was brought - a dapper, bustling, round-headed little man,
Roorback (or Rollebuck, as it was pronounced) by name. At the sight of
him the women broke into loud lamentations, for they looked upon the
signing of a will as the signing of a death-warrant.
