Mrs. Rouncewell, drawing up her stately form, shakes her head at the old girl with a swelling pride upon her, as much as to say, "I told you so!" The old girl relieves her feelings and testifies her interest in the conversation by giving the trooper a great poke between the shoulders with her umbrella; this action she afterwards repeats, at intervals, in a species of affectionate lunacy, never failing, after the administration of each of these remonstrances, to resort to the whitened wall and the grey cloak again.
"This was the way I brought myself to think, mother, that my best amends was to lie upon that bed I had made, and die upon it. And I should have done it (though I have been to see you more than once down at Chesney Wold, when you little thought of me) but for my old comrade's wife here, who I find has been too many for me. But I thank her for it. I thank you for it, Mrs. Bagnet, with all my heart and might."
To which Mrs. Bagnet responds with two pokes.
And now the old lady impresses upon her son George, her own dear recovered boy, her joy and pride, the light of her eyes, the happy close of her life, and every fond name she can think of, that he must be governed by the best advice obtainable by money and influence, that he must yield up his case to the greatest lawyers that can be got, that he must act in this serious plight as he shall be advised to act and must not be self-willed, however right, but must promise to think only of his poor old mother's anxiety and suffering until he is released, or he will break her heart.
"Mother, 'tis little enough to consent to," returns the trooper, stopping her with a kiss; "tell me what I shall do, and I'll make a late beginning and do it. Mrs. Bagnet, you'll take care of my mother, I know?"

Mrs. Rouncewell glances at the old girl with knowing pride. The old girl relieves her feelings by giving the trooper a great poke between the shoulders with her umbrella.
"This was the way I brought myself to think, mother, that I had best lie upon that bed I had made, and die upon it. And I should have done it but for my old comrade's wife here. But I thank her. Thank you, Mrs. Bagnet, with all my heart."
To which Mrs. Bagnet responds with two pokes.
And now the old lady tells her son George, her own dear recovered boy, her joy and pride, the light of her eyes, that he must yield up his case to the greatest lawyers that can be got, that he must not be self-willed, but must promise to think only of his poor old mother's anxiety and suffering until he is released, or he will break her heart.
"Mother," returns the trooper, stopping her with a kiss; "tell me what I shall do, and I'll do it. Mrs. Bagnet, you'll take care of my mother, I know?"
