From Lance O. Tingay’s introduction: Sheets for the Cradle was an ephemeral magazine produced for charitable purposes by MissSusan Hale in Boston, Massachusetts, during December 1875. This little magazine appeared on six successive days, December 6 to 11 and “Never, Never—Never, Never” was printed in three parts in alternateissues, numbers 1, 3 and 5. The magazine records that in sending the manuscript AnthonyTrollope wrote: “As Bret Harte says I have no sense of humour, and won’t laugh at me, I must try to laugh at myself, and make fun of the heroine I have loved best.” Sheets for the Cradle may be found in the Boston Public Library.
Susan Hale was the sister of Edward Everett Hale (1822–1909), a Boston Unitarian minister and editor of the magazine Old and New. Anthony Trollope was in Boston in October 1875 on his way back to England after his second visit to Australia.
If ever there was an angel upon earth, it was Mary Tomkins. She had long eyes and a shortnose, a littlemouthand a bigchin,silkenhair and a satin complexion,a highforeheadand a small waist; but her manner was more than her appearance, and she was everything her aunt could wish her.
‘Never, Johnny,’ she said to her love, as he sat with his arm round her waist, ‘never, never, never, never.’
‘Why the deuce won’t you, then?’ said John Thomas.
‘Surely you love him,’ said her aunt, in confidence, while they were preparing together a Saturday pie for the lodgers. ‘Shall there be two loves?’ asked Mary. ‘Certainly,’ said Mrs Johnson, practically, ‘if the first fails, or maybe three—as circumstances may require.ְ ‘Never, never, never, never!’ said Mary Tomkins.
‘Only that he pleads a previous promise to you, John Thomas would be my
bridegroom. I have his heart, I know. And, oh! and oh! and oh! it is too true
that he has mine. Be noble and make him free, and enjoy the undying friendship
of Anastasia Fitzapplejohn.
P.S. Or keep him in your mercenary bonds, and
then you shall know what a raging woman can do.’
Mary sat as usualwith her waistencircle.by his arm, while with her left hand she held the crumpled letter.
‘John,’ she said,‘who has your heart?’
‘Who but you, my poppet?’
‘Anastasia Fitzapplejohn has your heart.’
‘She be—oh! anything you please except married to me.‘
‘Where were you last night, John? Did you pass the hours you were away from here with that female?’
‘But listen to me, Mary.’
‘I demand to know whether you were there!’
‘Wait till I tell you all about it.’
‘I will hear nothing of such a one as Miss Fitzapplejohn.’
‘For my sake, Mary.’
‘Never, never, never, never!’ she said, as her head dropped on his shoulder.
‘John,’ she said, very gravely, ‘Anastasia Fitzapplejohn, no doubt, is fond of these jovial humors. Had you not better seek her society?’ He answered with an oath, and expressed the wish that Miss Fitzapplejohn might be taken at once to a place he should not havenamed. ‘Tomorrow you will wish the same for me,’ she said. That sobered him. He fell prostrate at her feet, arid, grovelling in the dust, swore with many oaths that if she would only consent to be Mrs Thomas, he would take the pledge on the next morning. She bent down over him and gave him her cool,softhand to raise him, and with her taper fingers pushed the dishevilled hair from off his forehead, and then she brushed his clothes. But as she did so she said continually, ‘Never, never, never, never!’
‘Do you love me, Mary?’ he said.
‘The tell-tale blood rushed to her face, as she stood for half an hour gently shaking her head and gazing into his eyes. Then she said, with that sweet voice of hers, which was the life of all her lovers, ‘Love you, Mr Dribble? Ay, that I do.’
‘And love forgives,’ he said, taking her sweet hand within his clammy grasp.
‘Yes, love forgives.‘
‘And you forgive.’
‘I have forgiven.’
‘Then you will consent to become Mrs Dribble?’
Again she stood gazing into his eyes for half an hour; but when she made her answer, it was still the same, ‘Never, never, never, never!’
‘Mary dear,’ said the squire, ‘you must think of the future.’
‘And of the past,’ said Mary.
‘Let the past take care of itself, my dear. A house over your head and half a dozen children are great blessings. Johnny Thomas is a sprightly fellow. Thou hast half a mind to take him, I know, Mary.’
‘But not more than half, Mr Robinson.’
‘Dang it, girl! Then have the parson. He had ever a sheep’s eye fo thee, and, if I remember rightly, thou wast sweet upon him once.’
‘’Twas but half sweet,’ she whispered, with her eyes turned to the ground.
‘But thou knowest how the donkey fared who was starved to death between two bundles of hay. Thou wouldst not imitate the ass!’
‘The poor brute at any rate was honest,’ said Mary.
‘Thou robbest me almost of my patience,’ said the squire, angrily. ‘Thou canst not have both. Take one and leave the other.’
But she answered him only as she had ever answered, ‘Never, never, never, never!’
‘It would avail nothing, Jemima,’ said Mary Tomkins.
‘I’d stop that “Never, never,” with a mouthful of kisses.’
‘That has vailed nothing, Jemima,’ she said.
‘What ar’t feared on, girl?’ she said. ‘Is not marriage honorable?’
‘And so is single-blessedness.’
‘Single fiddlestick! I would it were my chance.’
‘And have you no lovers, Jemima?’ ‘Not a ghost of a swain! not a thread-paper of a man. Would that I had! Thank God, I could love any man that would ask me. But to lead apes in hell with two such strings to your bow! ‘Tis a sheer wasting of the gifts of Providence.’
‘I do love to lead apes,’ said Mary.
‘Then lead one here and take the parson. You have not heard it, perhaps, but I know. The Queen will make him Bishop of Rochester next week. She saw his profile the other day in a shop-window, and swore that he was a sweet divine.’
‘And will Abraham really be a bishop?’
‘Tis true.’
‘Cherubic with lawn sleeves, and seraphic with an apron!’ Mary turne her eyes up to heaven as she spoke.
‘Indeed he will. And you,—you would look the bishop’s wife to a T.’
Mary paused that day; she paused all that night; she paused the next morning, and then she made her reply, ‘Never, never, never, never!’
‘Miss Tomkins,’ he said.
‘My lord,’ she replied, standing before him with downcast eyes.
‘Miss Tomkins,there have been some sweet words between you and me.’
‘Aye, my lord; and more than words.’
‘Some passages of what the world calls love.’
‘Trifles, my lord; meaning nothing to one so high in the world’s esteem as your lordship.’ Then were her eyes more downcast than ever, and her little fingers moved tremulously one over another.
‘MissTomkins,’he said, ‘lend me thathand.’ And she lent him her little hand. He, too, stood awhile, gazing, and then he spoke again. ‘Miss Tomkins,’ he said, ‘shall it be mine forever?’
But she answered him straightway, with more then her usual eagerness, ‘Never,never, never, never!’
Lord Thomas quaffed his ruby wines in a West-End mansion, and Lady Thomas, the daughter of a marquis, counted the corks.
But Mary Tomkins still made the gravies and eked out the butter in Finsbury Square. Did no soft regrets mar the quiescence of her life? Perhaps a few soft regrets did mar the quiecence of her life.
But her aunt observed that, during all her leisure hours, she appliedherself with unaccustomeddiligence to her needle. At last she brought forth from her closet a coarse and somewhat thick chamber-gown or morning wrapper. Its color was gray, and ’twas made of serge; but up and down the collar and round the waist,andin and out of the plaits a curious device had been worked. The letters were not easy to decipher, but when they were read they ran as follows:– ‘OLD MAID’
‘And will you wear it?’ asked her astonished aunt.
‘Indeed I will,’ said Mary. ‘Forever and ever, for ever and ever.’
And she wore it—till another young man came that way.
–Finis–