All this occurred to me on hearing of her arrival in the
neighborhood--for, be it remembered, I had not yet seen her, except about
three years previous, as above mentioned. In a few days we had an
interview, and, although I had seen her before, she did not look as my
imagination had pictured her. I knew she was over-size, but she now
appeared a fair match for Falstaff. I knew she was called an "old maid,"
and I felt no doubt of the truth of at least half of the appellation, but
now, when I beheld her, I could not for my life avoid thinking of my
mother; and this, not from withered features,--for her skin was too full
of fat to permit of its contracting into wrinkles,--but from her want of
teeth, weather-beaten appearance in general, and from a kind of notion
that ran in my head that nothing could have commenced at the size of
infancy and reached her present bulk in less than thirty-five or forty
years; and in short, I was not at all pleased with her. But what could I
do? I had told her sister that I would take her for better or for worse,
and I made a point of honor and conscience in all things to stick to my
word especially if others had been induced to act on it which in this
case I had no doubt they had, for I was now fairly convinced that no
other man on earth would have her, and hence the conclusion that they
were bent on holding me to my bargain.
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