MARY
BARTON
:
A
TALE
OF
MANCHESTER
LIFE
.
by
ELIZABETH
GASKELL
"
'
How
knowest
thou
,
'
may
the
distressed
Novel-wright
exclaim
,
'
that
I
,
here
where
I
sit
,
am
the
Foolishest
of
existing
mortals
;
that
this
my
Long-ear
of
a
fictitious
Biography
shall
not
find
one
and
the
other
,
into
whose
still
longer
ears
it
may
be
the
means
,
under
Providence
,
of
instilling
somewhat
?
'
We
answer
,
'
None
knows
,
none
can
certainly
know
:
therefore
,
write
on
,
worthy
Brother
,
even
as
thou
canst
,
even
as
it
is
given
thee
.
'
"
CARLYLE
.
PREFACE
.
Three
years
ago
I
became
anxious
(
from
circumstances
that
need
not
be
more
fully
alluded
to
)
to
employ
myself
in
writing
a
work
of
fiction
.
Living
in
Manchester
,
but
with
a
deep
relish
and
fond
admiration
for
the
country
,
my
first
thought
was
to
find
a
frame-work
for
my
story
in
some
rural
scene
;
and
I
had
already
made
a
little
progress
in
a
tale
,
the
period
of
which
was
more
than
a
century
ago
,
and
the
place
on
the
borders
of
Yorkshire
,
when
I
bethought
me
how
deep
might
be
the
romance
in
the
lives
of
some
of
those
who
elbowed
me
daily
in
the
busy
streets
of
the
town
in
which
I
resided
.
I
had
always
felt
a
deep
sympathy
with
the
care-worn
men
,
who
looked
as
if
doomed
to
struggle
through
their
lives
in
strange
alternations
between
work
and
want
;
tossed
to
and
fro
by
circumstances
,
apparently
in
even
a
greater
degree
than
other
men
.
A
little
manifestation
of
this
sympathy
,
and
a
little
attention
to
the
expression
of
feelings
on
the
part
of
some
of
the
work-people
with
whom
I
was
acquainted
,
had
laid
open
to
me
the
hearts
of
one
or
two
of
the
more
thoughtful
among
them
;
I
saw
that
they
were
sore
and
irritable
against
the
rich
,
the
even
tenor
of
whose
seemingly
happy
lives
appeared
to
increase
the
anguish
caused
by
the
lottery-like
nature
of
their
own
.
Whether
the
bitter
complaints
made
by
them
,
of
the
neglect
which
they
experienced
from
the
prosperous
—
especially
from
the
masters
whose
fortunes
they
had
helped
to
build
up
—
were
well-founded
or
no
,
it
is
not
for
me
to
judge
.
It
is
enough
to
say
,
that
this
belief
of
the
injustice
and
unkindness
which
they
endure
from
their
fellow-creatures
,
taints
what
might
be
resignation
to
God
's
will
,
and
turns
it
to
revenge
in
too
many
of
the
poor
uneducated
factory-workers
of
Manchester
.
The
more
I
reflected
on
this
unhappy
state
of
things
between
those
so
bound
to
each
other
by
common
interests
,
as
the
employers
and
the
employed
must
ever
be
,
the
more
anxious
I
became
to
give
some
utterance
to
the
agony
which
,
from
time
to
time
,
convulses
this
dumb
people
;
the
agony
of
suffering
without
the
sympathy
of
the
happy
,
or
of
erroneously
believing
that
such
is
the
case
.
If
it
be
an
error
,
that
the
woes
,
which
come
with
ever-returning
tide-like
flood
to
overwhelm
the
workmen
in
our
manufacturing
towns
,
pass
unregarded
by
all
but
the
sufferers
,
it
is
at
any
rate
an
error
so
bitter
in
its
consequences
to
all
parties
,
that
whatever
public
effort
can
do
in
the
way
of
legislation
,
or
private
effort
in
the
way
of
merciful
deeds
,
or
helpless
love
in
the
way
of
"
widow
's
mites
,
"
should
be
done
,
and
that
speedily
,
to
disabuse
the
work-people
of
so
miserable
a
misapprehension
.
At
present
they
seem
to
me
to
be
left
in
a
state
,
wherein
lamentations
and
tears
are
thrown
aside
as
useless
,
but
in
which
the
lips
are
compressed
for
curses
,
and
the
hands
clenched
and
ready
to
smite
.
I
know
nothing
of
Political
Economy
,
or
the
theories
of
trade
.
I
have
tried
to
write
truthfully
;
and
if
my
accounts
agree
or
clash
with
any
system
,
the
agreement
or
disagreement
is
unintentional
.
To
myself
the
idea
which
I
have
formed
of
the
state
of
feeling
among
too
many
of
the
factory-people
in
Manchester
,
and
which
I
endeavoured
to
represent
in
this
tale
(
completed
above
a
year
ago
)
,
has
received
some
confirmation
from
the
events
which
have
so
recently
occurred
among
a
similar
class
on
the
Continent
.
OCTOBER
,
1848.
CHAPTER
I
.
A
MYSTERIOUS
DISAPPEARANCE
.
Oh
!
'
tis
hard
,
'
tis
hard
to
be
working
The
whole
of
the
live-long
day
,
When
all
the
neighbours
about
one
Are
off
to
their
jaunts
and
play
.
There
's
Richard
he
carries
his
baby
,
And
Mary
takes
little
Jane
,
And
lovingly
they
'll
be
wandering
Through
field
and
briery
lane
.
Manchester
Song
.
There
are
some
fields
near
Manchester
,
well
known
to
the
inhabitants
as
"
Green
Heys
Fields
,
"
through
which
runs
a
public
footpath
to
a
little
village
about
two
miles
distant
.
In
spite
of
these
fields
being
flat
and
low
,
nay
,
in
spite
of
the
want
of
wood
(
the
great
and
usual
recommendation
of
level
tracts
of
land
)
,
there
is
a
charm
about
them
which
strikes
even
the
inhabitant
of
a
mountainous
district
,
who
sees
and
feels
the
effect
of
contrast
in
these
common-place
but
thoroughly
rural
fields
,
with
the
busy
,
bustling
manufacturing
town
he
left
but
half-an-hour
ago
.
Here
and
there
an
old
black
and
white
farm-house
,
with
its
rambling
outbuildings
,
speaks
of
other
times
and
other
occupations
than
those
which
now
absorb
the
population
of
the
neighbourhood
.
Here
in
their
seasons
may
be
seen
the
country
business
of
hay-making
,
ploughing
,
etc.
,
which
are
such
pleasant
mysteries
for
townspeople
to
watch
;
and
here
the
artisan
,
deafened
with
noise
of
tongues
and
engines
,
may
come
to
listen
awhile
to
the
delicious
sounds
of
rural
life
:
the
lowing
of
cattle
,
the
milk-maids
'
call
,
the
clatter
and
cackle
of
poultry
in
the
old
farm-yards
.
You
cannot
wonder
,
then
,
that
these
fields
are
popular
places
of
resort
at
every
holiday
time
;
and
you
would
not
wonder
,
if
you
could
see
,
or
I
properly
describe
,
the
charm
of
one
particular
stile
,
that
it
should
be
,
on
such
occasions
,
a
crowded
halting-place
.
Close
by
it
is
a
deep
,
clear
pond
,
reflecting
in
its
dark
green
depths
the
shadowy
trees
that
bend
over
it
to
exclude
the
sun
.
The
only
place
where
its
banks
are
shelving
is
on
the
side
next
to
a
rambling
farm-yard
,
belonging
to
one
of
those
old-world
,
gabled
,
black
and
white
houses
I
named
above
,
overlooking
the
field
through
which
the
public
footpath
leads
.
The
porch
of
this
farm-house
is
covered
by
a
rose-tree
;
and
the
little
garden
surrounding
it
is
crowded
with
a
medley
of
old-fashioned
herbs
and
flowers
,
planted
long
ago
,
when
the
garden
was
the
only
druggist
's
shop
within
reach
,
and
allowed
to
grow
in
scrambling
and
wild
luxuriance
—
roses
,
lavender
,
sage
,
balm
(
for
tea
)
,
rosemary
,
pinks
and
wallflowers
,
onions
and
jessamine
,
in
most
republican
and
indiscriminate
order
.
This
farm-house
and
garden
are
within
a
hundred
yards
of
the
stile
of
which
I
spoke
,
leading
from
the
large
pasture
field
into
a
smaller
one
,
divided
by
a
hedge
of
hawthorn
and
black-thorn
;
and
near
this
stile
,
on
the
further
side
,
there
runs
a
tale
that
primroses
may
often
be
found
,
and
occasionally
the
blue
sweet
violet
on
the
grassy
hedge
bank
.
I
do
not
know
whether
it
was
on
a
holiday
granted
by
the
masters
,
or
a
holiday
seized
in
right
of
Nature
and
her
beautiful
spring
time
by
the
workmen
,
but
one
afternoon
(
now
ten
or
a
dozen
years
ago
)
these
fields
were
much
thronged
.
It
was
an
early
May
evening
—
the
April
of
the
poets
;
for
heavy
showers
had
fallen
all
the
morning
,
and
the
round
,
soft
,
white
clouds
which
were
blown
by
a
west
wind
over
the
dark
blue
sky
,
were
sometimes
varied
by
one
blacker
and
more
threatening
.
The
softness
of
the
day
tempted
forth
the
young
green
leaves
,
which
almost
visibly
fluttered
into
life
;
and
the
willows
,
which
that
morning
had
had
only
a
brown
reflection
in
the
water
below
,
were
now
of
that
tender
gray-green
which
blends
so
delicately
with
the
spring
harmony
of
colours
.
Groups
of
merry
and
somewhat
loud-talking
girls
,
whose
ages
might
range
from
twelve
to
twenty
,
came
by
with
a
buoyant
step
.
They
were
most
of
them
factory
girls
,
and
wore
the
usual
out-of-doors
dress
of
that
particular
class
of
maidens
;
namely
,
a
shawl
,
which
at
mid-day
or
in
fine
weather
was
allowed
to
be
merely
a
shawl
,
but
towards
evening
,
or
if
the
day
were
chilly
,
became
a
sort
of
Spanish
mantilla
or
Scotch
plaid
,
and
was
brought
over
the
head
and
hung
loosely
down
,
or
was
pinned
under
the
chin
in
no
unpicturesque
fashion
.
Their
faces
were
not
remarkable
for
beauty
;
indeed
,
they
were
below
the
average
,
with
one
or
two
exceptions
;
they
had
dark
hair
,
neatly
and
classically
arranged
,
dark
eyes
,
but
sallow
complexions
and
irregular
features
.
The
only
thing
to
strike
a
passer-by
was
an
acuteness
and
intelligence
of
countenance
,
which
has
often
been
noticed
in
a
manufacturing
population
.
There
were
also
numbers
of
boys
,
or
rather
young
men
,
rambling
among
these
fields
,
ready
to
bandy
jokes
with
any
one
,
and
particularly
ready
to
enter
into
conversation
with
the
girls
,
who
,
however
,
held
themselves
aloof
,
not
in
a
shy
,
but
rather
in
an
independent
way
,
assuming
an
indifferent
manner
to
the
noisy
wit
or
obstreperous
compliments
of
the
lads
.
Here
and
there
came
a
sober
quiet
couple
,
either
whispering
lovers
,
or
husband
and
wife
,
as
the
case
might
be
;
and
if
the
latter
,
they
were
seldom
unencumbered
by
an
infant
,
carried
for
the
most
part
by
the
father
,
while
occasionally
even
three
or
four
little
toddlers
had
been
carried
or
dragged
thus
far
,
in
order
that
the
whole
family
might
enjoy
the
delicious
May
afternoon
together
.
Sometime
in
the
course
of
that
afternoon
,
two
working
men
met
with
friendly
greeting
at
the
stile
so
often
named
.
One
was
a
thorough
specimen
of
a
Manchester
man
;
born
of
factory
workers
,
and
himself
bred
up
in
youth
,
and
living
in
manhood
,
among
the
mills
.
He
was
below
the
middle
size
and
slightly
made
;
there
was
almost
a
stunted
look
about
him
;
and
his
wan
,
colourless
face
gave
you
the
idea
,
that
in
his
childhood
he
had
suffered
from
the
scanty
living
consequent
upon
bad
times
and
improvident
habits
.
His
features
were
strongly
marked
,
though
not
irregular
,
and
their
expression
was
extreme
earnestness
;
resolute
either
for
good
or
evil
;
a
sort
of
latent
,
stern
enthusiasm
.
At
the
time
of
which
I
write
,
the
good
predominated
over
the
bad
in
the
countenance
,
and
he
was
one
from
whom
a
stranger
would
have
asked
a
favour
with
tolerable
faith
that
it
would
be
granted
.
He
was
accompanied
by
his
wife
,
who
might
,
without
exaggeration
,
have
been
called
a
lovely
woman
,
although
now
her
face
was
swollen
with
crying
,
and
often
hidden
behind
her
apron
.
She
had
the
fresh
beauty
of
the
agricultural
districts
;
and
somewhat
of
the
deficiency
of
sense
in
her
countenance
,
which
is
likewise
characteristic
of
the
rural
inhabitants
in
comparison
with
the
natives
of
the
manufacturing
towns
.
She
was
far
advanced
in
pregnancy
,
which
perhaps
occasioned
the
overpowering
and
hysterical
nature
of
her
grief
.
The
friend
whom
they
met
was
more
handsome
and
less
sensible-looking
than
the
man
I
have
just
described
;
he
seemed
hearty
and
hopeful
,
and
although
his
age
was
greater
,
yet
there
was
far
more
of
youth
's
buoyancy
in
his
appearance
.
He
was
tenderly
carrying
a
baby
in
arms
,
while
his
wife
,
a
delicate
,
fragile-looking
woman
,
limping
in
her
gait
,
bore
another
of
the
same
age
;
little
,
feeble
twins
,
inheriting
the
frail
appearance
of
their
mother
.
The
last-mentioned
man
was
the
first
to
speak
,
while
a
sudden
look
of
sympathy
dimmed
his
gladsome
face
.
"
Well
,
John
,
how
goes
it
with
you
?
"
and
,
in
a
lower
voice
,
he
added
,
"
Any
news
of
Esther
,
yet
?
"
Meanwhile
the
wives
greeted
each
other
like
old
friends
,
the
soft
and
plaintive
voice
of
the
mother
of
the
twins
seeming
to
call
forth
only
fresh
sobs
from
Mrs.
Barton
.
"
Come
,
women
,
"
said
John
Barton
,
"
you
've
both
walked
far
enough
.
My
Mary
expects
to
have
her
bed
in
three
weeks
;
and
as
for
you
,
Mrs.
Wilson
,
you
know
you
're
but
a
cranky
sort
of
a
body
at
the
best
of
times
.
"
This
was
said
so
kindly
,
that
no
offence
could
be
taken
.
"
Sit
you
down
here
;
the
grass
is
well
nigh
dry
by
this
time
;
and
you
're
neither
of
you
nesh
[
1
]
folk
about
taking
cold
.
Stay
,
"
he
added
,
with
some
tenderness
,
"
here
's
my
pocket-handkerchief
to
spread
under
you
,
to
save
the
gowns
women
always
think
so
much
of
;
and
now
,
Mrs.
Wilson
,
give
me
the
baby
,
I
may
as
well
carry
him
,
while
you
talk
and
comfort
my
wife
;
poor
thing
,
she
takes
on
sadly
about
Esther
.
"
These
arrangements
were
soon
completed
:
the
two
women
sat
down
on
the
blue
cotton
handkerchiefs
of
their
husbands
,
and
the
latter
,
each
carrying
a
baby
,
set
off
for
a
further
walk
;
but
as
soon
as
Barton
had
turned
his
back
upon
his
wife
,
his
countenance
fell
back
into
an
expression
of
gloom
.
"
Then
you
've
heard
nothing
of
Esther
,
poor
lass
?
"
asked
Wilson
.
"
No
,
nor
sha
n't
,
as
I
take
it
.
My
mind
is
,
she
's
gone
off
with
somebody
.
My
wife
frets
,
and
thinks
she
's
drowned
herself
,
but
I
tell
her
,
folks
do
n't
care
to
put
on
their
best
clothes
to
drown
themselves
;
and
Mrs.
Bradshaw
(
where
she
lodged
,
you
know
)
says
the
last
time
she
set
eyes
on
her
was
last
Tuesday
,
when
she
came
down
stairs
,
dressed
in
her
Sunday
gown
,
and
with
a
new
ribbon
in
her
bonnet
,
and
gloves
on
her
hands
,
like
the
lady
she
was
so
fond
of
thinking
herself
.
"
"
She
was
as
pretty
a
creature
as
ever
the
sun
shone
on
.
"
"
Ay
,
she
was
a
farrantly
[
2
]
lass
;
more
's
the
pity
now
,
"
added
Barton
,
with
a
sigh
.
"
You
see
them
Buckinghamshire
people
as
comes
to
work
in
Manchester
,
has
quite
a
different
look
with
them
to
us
Manchester
folk
.
You
'll
not
see
among
the
Manchester
wenches
such
fresh
rosy
cheeks
,
or
such
black
lashes
to
gray
eyes
(
making
them
look
like
black
)
,
as
my
wife
and
Esther
had
.
I
never
seed
two
such
pretty
women
for
sisters
;
never
.
Not
but
what
beauty
is
a
sad
snare
.
Here
was
Esther
so
puffed
up
,
that
there
was
no
holding
her
in
.
Her
spirit
was
always
up
,
if
I
spoke
ever
so
little
in
the
way
of
advice
to
her
;
my
wife
spoiled
her
,
it
is
true
,
for
you
see
she
was
so
much
older
than
Esther
she
was
more
like
a
mother
to
her
,
doing
every
thing
for
her
.
"
"
I
wonder
she
ever
left
you
,
"
observed
his
friend
.
"
That
's
the
worst
of
factory
work
,
for
girls
.
They
can
earn
so
much
when
work
is
plenty
,
that
they
can
maintain
themselves
any
how
.
My
Mary
shall
never
work
in
a
factory
,
that
I
'm
determined
on
.
You
see
Esther
spent
her
money
in
dress
,
thinking
to
set
off
her
pretty
face
;
and
got
to
come
home
so
late
at
night
,
that
at
last
I
told
her
my
mind
:
my
missis
thinks
I
spoke
crossly
,
but
I
meant
right
,
for
I
loved
Esther
,
if
it
was
only
for
Mary
's
sake
.
Says
I
,
'
Esther
,
I
see
what
you
'll
end
at
with
your
artificials
,
and
your
fly-away
veils
,
and
stopping
out
when
honest
women
are
in
their
beds
;
you
'll
be
a
street-walker
,
Esther
,
and
then
,
do
n't
you
go
to
think
I
'll
have
you
darken
my
door
,
though
my
wife
is
your
sister
.
'
So
says
she
,
'
Do
n't
trouble
yourself
,
John
.
I
'll
pack
up
and
be
off
now
,
for
I
'll
never
stay
to
hear
myself
called
as
you
call
me
.
'
She
flushed
up
like
a
turkey-cock
,
and
I
thought
fire
would
come
out
of
her
eyes
;
but
when
she
saw
Mary
cry
(
for
Mary
ca
n't
abide
words
in
a
house
)
,
she
went
and
kissed
her
,
and
said
she
was
not
so
bad
as
I
thought
her
.
So
we
talked
more
friendly
,
for
,
as
I
said
,
I
liked
the
lass
well
enough
,
and
her
pretty
looks
,
and
her
cheery
ways
.
But
she
said
(
and
at
the
time
I
thought
there
was
sense
in
what
she
said
)
we
should
be
much
better
friends
if
she
went
into
lodgings
,
and
only
came
to
see
us
now
and
then
.
"
"
Then
you
still
were
friendly
.
Folks
said
you
'd
cast
her
off
,
and
said
you
'd
never
speak
to
her
again
.
"
"
Folks
always
make
one
a
deal
worse
than
one
is
,
"
said
John
Barton
,
testily
.
"
She
came
many
a
time
to
our
house
after
she
left
off
living
with
us
.
Last
Sunday
se'nnight
—
no
!
it
was
this
very
last
Sunday
,
she
came
to
drink
a
cup
of
tea
with
Mary
;
and
that
was
the
last
time
we
set
eyes
on
her
.
"
"
Was
she
any
ways
different
in
her
manner
?
"
asked
Wilson
.
"
Well
,
I
do
n't
know
.
I
have
thought
several
times
since
,
that
she
was
a
bit
quieter
,
and
more
womanly-like
;
more
gentle
,
and
more
blushing
,
and
not
so
riotous
and
noisy
.
She
comes
in
,
toward
four
o'clock
,
when
afternoon
church
was
loosing
,
and
she
goes
and
hangs
her
bonnet
up
on
the
old
nail
we
used
to
call
hers
,
while
she
lived
with
us
.
I
remember
thinking
what
a
pretty
lass
she
was
,
as
she
sat
on
a
low
stool
by
Mary
,
who
was
rocking
herself
,
and
in
rather
a
poor
way
.
She
laughed
and
cried
by
turns
,
but
all
so
softly
and
gently
,
like
a
child
,
that
I
could
n't
find
in
my
heart
to
scold
her
,
especially
as
Mary
was
fretting
already
.
One
thing
I
do
remember
I
did
say
,
and
pretty
sharply
too
.
She
took
our
little
Mary
by
the
waist
,
and
—
"
"
Thou
must
leave
off
calling
her
'
little
'
Mary
,
she
's
growing
up
into
as
fine
a
lass
as
one
can
see
on
a
summer
's
day
;
more
of
her
mother
's
stock
than
thine
,
"
interrupted
Wilson
.
"
Well
,
well
,
I
call
her
'
little
,
'
because
her
mother
's
name
is
Mary
.
But
,
as
I
was
saying
,
she
takes
Mary
in
a
coaxing
sort
of
way
,
and
,
'
Mary
,
'
says
she
,
'
what
should
you
think
if
I
sent
for
you
some
day
and
made
a
lady
of
you
?
'
So
I
could
not
stand
such
talk
as
that
to
my
girl
,
and
I
said
,
'
Thou
'd
best
not
put
that
nonsense
i
'
the
girl
's
head
I
can
tell
thee
;
I
'd
rather
see
her
earning
her
bread
by
the
sweat
of
her
brow
,
as
the
Bible
tells
her
she
should
do
,
ay
,
though
she
never
got
butter
to
her
bread
,
than
be
like
a
do-nothing
lady
,
worrying
shopmen
all
morning
,
and
screeching
at
her
pianny
all
afternoon
,
and
going
to
bed
without
having
done
a
good
turn
to
any
one
of
God
's
creatures
but
herself
.
'
"
"
Thou
never
could
abide
the
gentlefolk
,
"
said
Wilson
,
half
amused
at
his
friend
's
vehemence
.
"
And
what
good
have
they
ever
done
me
that
I
should
like
them
?
"
asked
Barton
,
the
latent
fire
lighting
up
his
eye
:
and
bursting
forth
,
he
continued
,
"
If
I
am
sick
,
do
they
come
and
nurse
me
?
If
my
child
lies
dying
(
as
poor
Tom
lay
,
with
his
white
wan
lips
quivering
,
for
want
of
better
food
than
I
could
give
him
)
,
does
the
rich
man
bring
the
wine
or
broth
that
might
save
his
life
?
If
I
am
out
of
work
for
weeks
in
the
bad
times
,
and
winter
comes
,
with
black
frost
,
and
keen
east
wind
,
and
there
is
no
coal
for
the
grate
,
and
no
clothes
for
the
bed
,
and
the
thin
bones
are
seen
through
the
ragged
clothes
,
does
the
rich
man
share
his
plenty
with
me
,
as
he
ought
to
do
,
if
his
religion
was
n't
a
humbug
?
When
I
lie
on
my
death-bed
,
and
Mary
(
bless
her
)
stands
fretting
,
as
I
know
she
will
fret
,
"
and
here
his
voice
faltered
a
little
,
"
will
a
rich
lady
come
and
take
her
to
her
own
home
if
need
be
,
till
she
can
look
round
,
and
see
what
best
to
do
?
No
,
I
tell
you
,
it
's
the
poor
,
and
the
poor
only
,
as
does
such
things
for
the
poor
.
Do
n't
think
to
come
over
me
with
th
'
old
tale
,
that
the
rich
know
nothing
of
the
trials
of
the
poor
.
I
say
,
if
they
do
n't
know
,
they
ought
to
know
.
We
're
their
slaves
as
long
as
we
can
work
;
we
pile
up
their
fortunes
with
the
sweat
of
our
brows
;
and
yet
we
are
to
live
as
separate
as
if
we
were
in
two
worlds
;
ay
,
as
separate
as
Dives
and
Lazarus
,
with
a
great
gulf
betwixt
us
:
but
I
know
who
was
best
off
then
,
"
and
he
wound
up
his
speech
with
a
low
chuckle
that
had
no
mirth
in
it
.
"
Well
,
neighbour
,
"
said
Wilson
,
"
all
that
may
be
very
true
,
but
what
I
want
to
know
now
is
about
Esther
—
when
did
you
last
hear
of
her
?
"
"
Why
,
she
took
leave
of
us
that
Sunday
night
in
a
very
loving
way
,
kissing
both
wife
Mary
,
and
daughter
Mary
(
if
I
must
not
call
her
little
)
,
and
shaking
hands
with
me
;
but
all
in
a
cheerful
sort
of
manner
,
so
we
thought
nothing
about
her
kisses
and
shakes
.
But
on
Wednesday
night
comes
Mrs.
Bradshaw
's
son
with
Esther
's
box
,
and
presently
Mrs.
Bradshaw
follows
with
the
key
;
and
when
we
began
to
talk
,
we
found
Esther
told
her
she
was
coming
back
to
live
with
us
,
and
would
pay
her
week
's
money
for
not
giving
notice
;
and
on
Tuesday
night
she
carried
off
a
little
bundle
(
her
best
clothes
were
on
her
back
,
as
I
said
before
)
,
and
told
Mrs.
Bradshaw
not
to
hurry
herself
about
the
big
box
,
but
bring
it
when
she
had
time
.
So
of
course
she
thought
she
should
find
Esther
with
us
;
and
when
she
told
her
story
,
my
missis
set
up
such
a
screech
,
and
fell
down
in
a
dead
swoon
.
Mary
ran
up
with
water
for
her
mother
,
and
I
thought
so
much
about
my
wife
,
I
did
not
seem
to
care
at
all
for
Esther
.
But
the
next
day
I
asked
all
the
neighbours
(
both
our
own
and
Bradshaw
's
)
,
and
they
'd
none
of
'
em
heard
or
seen
nothing
of
her
.
I
even
went
to
a
policeman
,
a
good
enough
sort
of
man
,
but
a
fellow
I
'd
never
spoke
to
before
because
of
his
livery
,
and
I
asks
him
if
his
'
cuteness
could
find
any
thing
out
for
us
.
So
I
believe
he
asks
other
policemen
;
and
one
on
'
em
had
seen
a
wench
,
like
our
Esther
,
walking
very
quickly
,
with
a
bundle
under
her
arm
,
on
Tuesday
night
,
toward
eight
o'clock
,
and
get
into
a
hackney
coach
,
near
Hulme
Church
,
and
we
do
n't
know
th
'
number
,
and
ca
n't
trace
it
no
further
.
I
'm
sorry
enough
for
the
girl
,
for
bad
's
come
over
her
,
one
way
or
another
,
but
I
'm
sorrier
for
my
wife
.
She
loved
her
next
to
me
and
Mary
,
and
she
's
never
been
the
same
body
since
poor
Tom
's
death
.
However
,
let
's
go
back
to
them
;
your
old
woman
may
have
done
her
good
.
"
As
they
walked
homewards
with
a
brisker
pace
,
Wilson
expressed
a
wish
that
they
still
were
the
near
neighbours
they
once
had
been
.
"
Still
our
Alice
lives
in
the
cellar
under
No.
14
,
in
Barber
Street
,
and
if
you
'd
only
speak
the
word
she
'd
be
with
you
in
five
minutes
,
to
keep
your
wife
company
when
she
's
lonesome
.
Though
I
'm
Alice
's
brother
,
and
perhaps
ought
not
to
say
it
,
I
will
say
there
's
none
more
ready
to
help
with
heart
or
hand
than
she
is
.
Though
she
may
have
done
a
hard
day
's
wash
,
there
's
not
a
child
ill
within
the
street
but
Alice
goes
to
offer
to
sit
up
,
and
does
sit
up
too
,
though
may
be
she
's
to
be
at
her
work
by
six
next
morning
.
"
"
She
's
a
poor
woman
,
and
can
feel
for
the
poor
,
Wilson
,
"
was
Barton
's
reply
;
and
then
he
added
,
"
Thank
you
kindly
for
your
offer
,
and
mayhap
I
may
trouble
her
to
be
a
bit
with
my
wife
,
for
while
I
'm
at
work
,
and
Mary
's
at
school
,
I
know
she
frets
above
a
bit
.
See
,
there
's
Mary
!
"
and
the
father
's
eye
brightened
,
as
in
the
distance
,
among
a
group
of
girls
,
he
spied
his
only
daughter
,
a
bonny
lassie
of
thirteen
or
so
,
who
came
bounding
along
to
meet
and
to
greet
her
father
,
in
a
manner
which
showed
that
the
stern-looking
man
had
a
tender
nature
within
.
The
two
men
had
crossed
the
last
stile
while
Mary
loitered
behind
to
gather
some
buds
of
the
coming
hawthorn
,
when
an
over-grown
lad
came
past
her
,
and
snatched
a
kiss
,
exclaiming
,
"
For
old
acquaintance
sake
,
Mary
.
"
"
Take
that
for
old
acquaintance
sake
,
then
,
"
said
the
girl
,
blushing
rosy
red
,
more
with
anger
than
shame
,
as
she
slapped
his
face
.
The
tones
of
her
voice
called
back
her
father
and
his
friend
,
and
the
aggressor
proved
to
be
the
eldest
son
of
the
latter
,
the
senior
by
eighteen
years
of
his
little
brothers
.
"
Here
,
children
,
instead
o
'
kissing
and
quarrelling
,
do
ye
each
take
a
baby
,
for
if
Wilson
's
arms
be
like
mine
they
are
heartily
tired
.
"
Mary
sprang
forward
to
take
her
father
's
charge
,
with
a
girl
's
fondness
for
infants
,
and
with
some
little
foresight
of
the
event
soon
to
happen
at
home
;
while
young
Wilson
seemed
to
lose
his
rough
,
cubbish
nature
as
he
crowed
and
cooed
to
his
little
brother
.
"
Twins
is
a
great
trial
to
a
poor
man
,
bless
'
em
,
"
said
the
half-proud
,
half-weary
father
,
as
he
bestowed
a
smacking
kiss
on
the
babe
ere
he
parted
with
it
.
CHAPTER
II
.
A
MANCHESTER
TEA-PARTY
.
Polly
,
put
the
kettle
on
,
And
let
's
have
tea
!
Polly
,
put
the
kettle
on
,
And
we
'll
all
have
tea
.
"
Here
we
are
,
wife
;
didst
thou
think
thou
'd
lost
us
?
"
quoth
hearty-voiced
Wilson
,
as
the
two
women
rose
and
shook
themselves
in
preparation
for
their
homeward
walk
.
Mrs.
Barton
was
evidently
soothed
,
if
not
cheered
,
by
the
unburdening
of
her
fears
and
thoughts
to
her
friend
;
and
her
approving
look
went
far
to
second
her
husband
's
invitation
that
the
whole
party
should
adjourn
from
Green
Heys
Fields
to
tea
,
at
the
Bartons
'
house
.
The
only
faint
opposition
was
raised
by
Mrs.
Wilson
,
on
account
of
the
lateness
of
the
hour
at
which
they
would
probably
return
,
which
she
feared
on
her
babies
'
account
.
"
Now
,
hold
your
tongue
,
missis
,
will
you
,
"
said
her
husband
,
good-temperedly
.
"
Do
n't
you
know
them
brats
never
goes
to
sleep
till
long
past
ten
?
and
have
n't
you
a
shawl
,
under
which
you
can
tuck
one
lad
's
head
,
as
safe
as
a
bird
's
under
its
wing
?
And
as
for
t'other
one
,
I
'll
put
it
in
my
pocket
rather
than
not
stay
,
now
we
are
this
far
away
from
Ancoats
.
"
"
Or
I
can
lend
you
another
shawl
,
"
suggested
Mrs.
Barton
.
"
Ay
,
any
thing
rather
than
not
stay
.
"
The
matter
being
decided
,
the
party
proceeded
home
,
through
many
half-finished
streets
,
all
so
like
one
another
that
you
might
have
easily
been
bewildered
and
lost
your
way
.
Not
a
step
,
however
,
did
our
friends
lose
;
down
this
entry
,
cutting
off
that
corner
,
until
they
turned
out
of
one
of
these
innumerable
streets
into
a
little
paved
court
,
having
the
backs
of
houses
at
the
end
opposite
to
the
opening
,
and
a
gutter
running
through
the
middle
to
carry
off
household
slops
,
washing
suds
,
etc.
The
women
who
lived
in
the
court
were
busy
taking
in
strings
of
caps
,
frocks
,
and
various
articles
of
linen
,
which
hung
from
side
to
side
,
dangling
so
low
,
that
if
our
friends
had
been
a
few
minutes
sooner
,
they
would
have
had
to
stoop
very
much
,
or
else
the
half-wet
clothes
would
have
flapped
in
their
faces
;
but
although
the
evening
seemed
yet
early
when
they
were
in
the
open
fields
—
among
the
pent-up
houses
,
night
,
with
its
mists
,
and
its
darkness
,
had
already
begun
to
fall
.
Many
greetings
were
given
and
exchanged
between
the
Wilsons
and
these
women
,
for
not
long
ago
they
had
also
dwelt
in
this
court
.
Two
rude
lads
,
standing
at
a
disorderly
looking
house-door
,
exclaimed
,
as
Mary
Barton
(
the
daughter
)
passed
,
"
Eh
,
look
!
Polly
Barton
's
gotten
a
sweetheart
.
"
Of
course
this
referred
to
young
Wilson
,
who
stole
a
look
to
see
how
Mary
took
the
idea
.
He
saw
her
assume
the
air
of
a
young
fury
,
and
to
his
next
speech
she
answered
not
a
word
.
Mrs.
Barton
produced
the
key
of
the
door
from
her
pocket
;
and
on
entering
the
house-place
it
seemed
as
if
they
were
in
total
darkness
,
except
one
bright
spot
,
which
might
be
a
cat
's
eye
,
or
might
be
,
what
it
was
,
a
red-hot
fire
,
smouldering
under
a
large
piece
of
coal
,
which
John
Barton
immediately
applied
himself
to
break
up
,
and
the
effect
instantly
produced
was
warm
and
glowing
light
in
every
corner
of
the
room
.
To
add
to
this
(
although
the
coarse
yellow
glare
seemed
lost
in
the
ruddy
glow
from
the
fire
)
,
Mrs.
Barton
lighted
a
dip
by
sticking
it
in
the
fire
,
and
having
placed
it
satisfactorily
in
a
tin
candlestick
,
began
to
look
further
about
her
,
on
hospitable
thoughts
intent
.
The
room
was
tolerably
large
,
and
possessed
many
conveniences
.
On
the
right
of
the
door
,
as
you
entered
,
was
a
longish
window
,
with
a
broad
ledge
.
On
each
side
of
this
,
hung
blue-and-white
check
curtains
,
which
were
now
drawn
,
to
shut
in
the
friends
met
to
enjoy
themselves
.
Two
geraniums
,
unpruned
and
leafy
,
which
stood
on
the
sill
,
formed
a
further
defence
from
out-door
pryers
.
In
the
corner
between
the
window
and
the
fire-side
was
a
cupboard
,
apparently
full
of
plates
and
dishes
,
cups
and
saucers
,
and
some
more
nondescript
articles
,
for
which
one
would
have
fancied
their
possessors
could
find
no
use
—
such
as
triangular
pieces
of
glass
to
save
carving
knives
and
forks
from
dirtying
table-cloths
.
However
,
it
was
evident
Mrs.
Barton
was
proud
of
her
crockery
and
glass
,
for
she
left
her
cupboard
door
open
,
with
a
glance
round
of
satisfaction
and
pleasure
.
On
the
opposite
side
to
the
door
and
window
was
the
staircase
,
and
two
doors
;
one
of
which
(
the
nearest
to
the
fire
)
led
into
a
sort
of
little
back
kitchen
,
where
dirty
work
,
such
as
washing
up
dishes
,
might
be
done
,
and
whose
shelves
served
as
larder
,
and
pantry
,
and
storeroom
,
and
all
.
The
other
door
,
which
was
considerably
lower
,
opened
into
the
coal-hole
—
the
slanting
closet
under
the
stairs
;
from
which
,
to
the
fire-place
,
there
was
a
gay-coloured
piece
of
oil-cloth
laid
.
The
place
seemed
almost
crammed
with
furniture
(
sure
sign
of
good
times
among
the
mills
)
.
Beneath
the
window
was
a
dresser
with
three
deep
drawers
.
Opposite
the
fire-place
was
a
table
,
which
I
should
call
a
Pembroke
,
only
that
it
was
made
of
deal
,
and
I
cannot
tell
how
far
such
a
name
may
be
applied
to
such
humble
material
.
On
it
,
resting
against
the
wall
,
was
a
bright
green
japanned
tea-tray
,
having
a
couple
of
scarlet
lovers
embracing
in
the
middle
.
The
fire-light
danced
merrily
on
this
,
and
really
(
setting
all
taste
but
that
of
a
child
's
aside
)
it
gave
a
richness
of
colouring
to
that
side
of
the
room
.
It
was
in
some
measure
propped
up
by
a
crimson
tea-caddy
,
also
of
japan
ware
.
A
round
table
on
one
branching
leg
really
for
use
,
stood
in
the
corresponding
corner
to
the
cupboard
;
and
,
if
you
can
picture
all
this
with
a
washy
,
but
clean
stencilled
pattern
on
the
walls
,
you
can
form
some
idea
of
John
Barton
's
home
.
The
tray
was
soon
hoisted
down
,
and
before
the
merry
chatter
of
cups
and
saucers
began
,
the
women
disburdened
themselves
of
their
out-of-door
things
,
and
sent
Mary
up
stairs
with
them
.
Then
came
a
long
whispering
,
and
chinking
of
money
,
to
which
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Wilson
were
too
polite
to
attend
;
knowing
,
as
they
did
full
well
,
that
it
all
related
to
the
preparations
for
hospitality
;
hospitality
that
,
in
their
turn
,
they
should
have
such
pleasure
in
offering
.
So
they
tried
to
be
busily
occupied
with
the
children
,
and
not
to
hear
Mrs.
Barton
's
directions
to
Mary
.
"
Run
,
Mary
dear
,
just
round
the
corner
,
and
get
some
fresh
eggs
at
Tipping
's
(
you
may
get
one
a-piece
,
that
will
be
five-pence
)
,
and
see
if
he
has
any
nice
ham
cut
,
that
he
would
let
us
have
a
pound
of
.
"
"
Say
two
pounds
,
missis
,
and
do
n't
be
stingy
,
"
chimed
in
the
husband
.
"
Well
,
a
pound
and
a
half
,
Mary
.
And
get
it
Cumberland
ham
,
for
Wilson
comes
from
there-away
,
and
it
will
have
a
sort
of
relish
of
home
with
it
he
'll
like
,
—
and
Mary
"
(
seeing
the
lassie
fain
to
be
off
)
,
"
you
must
get
a
pennyworth
of
milk
and
a
loaf
of
bread
—
mind
you
get
it
fresh
and
new
—
and
,
and
—
that
's
all
,
Mary
.
"
"
No
,
it
's
not
all
,
"
said
her
husband
.
"
Thou
must
get
sixpennyworth
of
rum
,
to
warm
the
tea
;
thou
'll
get
it
at
the
'
Grapes
.
'
And
thou
just
go
to
Alice
Wilson
;
he
says
she
lives
just
right
round
the
corner
,
under
14
,
Barber
Street
"
(
this
was
addressed
to
his
wife
)
,
"
and
tell
her
to
come
and
take
her
tea
with
us
;
she
'll
like
to
see
her
brother
,
I
'll
be
bound
,
let
alone
Jane
and
the
twins
.
"
"
If
she
comes
she
must
bring
a
tea-cup
and
saucer
,
for
we
have
but
half-a-dozen
,
and
here
's
six
of
us
,
"
said
Mrs.
Barton
.
"
Pooh
!
pooh
!
Jem
and
Mary
can
drink
out
of
one
,
surely
.
"
But
Mary
secretly
determined
to
take
care
that
Alice
brought
her
tea-cup
and
saucer
,
if
the
alternative
was
to
be
her
sharing
any
thing
with
Jem
.
Alice
Wilson
had
but
just
come
in
.
She
had
been
out
all
day
in
the
fields
,
gathering
wild
herbs
for
drinks
and
medicine
,
for
in
addition
to
her
invaluable
qualities
as
a
sick
nurse
and
her
worldly
occupation
as
a
washerwoman
,
she
added
a
considerable
knowledge
of
hedge
and
field
simples
;
and
on
fine
days
,
when
no
more
profitable
occupation
offered
itself
,
she
used
to
ramble
off
into
the
lanes
and
meadows
as
far
as
her
legs
could
carry
her
.
This
evening
she
had
returned
loaded
with
nettles
,
and
her
first
object
was
to
light
a
candle
and
see
to
hang
them
up
in
bunches
in
every
available
place
in
her
cellar
room
.
It
was
the
perfection
of
cleanliness
:
in
one
corner
stood
the
modest-looking
bed
,
with
a
check
curtain
at
the
head
,
the
whitewashed
wall
filling
up
the
place
where
the
corresponding
one
should
have
been
.
The
floor
was
bricked
,
and
scrupulously
clean
,
although
so
damp
that
it
seemed
as
if
the
last
washing
would
never
dry
up
.
As
the
cellar
window
looked
into
an
area
in
the
street
,
down
which
boys
might
throw
stones
,
it
was
protected
by
an
outside
shelter
,
and
was
oddly
festooned
with
all
manner
of
hedge-row
,
ditch
,
and
field
plants
,
which
we
are
accustomed
to
call
valueless
,
but
which
have
a
powerful
effect
either
for
good
or
for
evil
,
and
are
consequently
much
used
among
the
poor
.
The
room
was
strewed
,
hung
,
and
darkened
with
these
bunches
,
which
emitted
no
very
fragrant
odour
in
their
process
of
drying
.
In
one
corner
was
a
sort
of
broad
hanging
shelf
,
made
of
old
planks
,
where
some
old
hoards
of
Alice
's
were
kept
.
Her
little
bit
of
crockery
ware
was
ranged
on
the
mantelpiece
,
where
also
stood
her
candlestick
and
box
of
matches
.
A
small
cupboard
contained
at
the
bottom
coals
,
and
at
the
top
her
bread
and
basin
of
oatmeal
,
her
frying
pan
,
tea-pot
,
and
a
small
tin
saucepan
,
which
served
as
a
kettle
,
as
well
as
for
cooking
the
delicate
little
messes
of
broth
which
Alice
sometimes
was
able
to
manufacture
for
a
sick
neighbour
.
After
her
walk
she
felt
chilly
and
weary
,
and
was
busy
trying
to
light
her
fire
with
the
damp
coals
,
and
half
green
sticks
,
when
Mary
knocked
.
"
Come
in
,
"
said
Alice
,
remembering
,
however
,
that
she
had
barred
the
door
for
the
night
,
and
hastening
to
make
it
possible
for
any
one
to
come
in
.
"
Is
that
you
,
Mary
Barton
?
"
exclaimed
she
,
as
the
light
from
her
candle
streamed
on
the
girl
's
face
.
"
How
you
are
grown
since
I
used
to
see
you
at
my
brother
's
!
Come
in
,
lass
,
come
in
.
"
"
Please
,
"
said
Mary
,
almost
breathless
,
"
mother
says
you
're
to
come
to
tea
,
and
bring
your
cup
and
saucer
,
for
George
and
Jane
Wilson
is
with
us
,
and
the
twins
,
and
Jem
.
And
you
're
to
make
haste
,
please
.
"
"
I
'm
sure
it
's
very
neighbourly
and
kind
in
your
mother
,
and
I
'll
come
,
with
many
thanks
.
Stay
,
Mary
,
has
your
mother
got
any
nettles
for
spring
drink
?
If
she
has
n't
I
'll
take
her
some
.
"
"
No
,
I
do
n't
think
she
has
.
"
Mary
ran
off
like
a
hare
to
fulfil
what
,
to
a
girl
of
thirteen
,
fond
of
power
,
was
the
more
interesting
part
of
her
errand
—
the
money-spending
part
.
And
well
and
ably
did
she
perform
her
business
,
returning
home
with
a
little
bottle
of
rum
,
and
the
eggs
in
one
hand
,
while
her
other
was
filled
with
some
excellent
red-and-white
smoke-flavoured
Cumberland
ham
,
wrapped
up
in
paper
.
She
was
at
home
,
and
frying
ham
,
before
Alice
had
chosen
her
nettles
,
put
out
her
candle
,
locked
her
door
,
and
walked
in
a
very
foot-sore
manner
as
far
as
John
Barton
's
.
What
an
aspect
of
comfort
did
his
houseplace
present
,
after
her
humble
cellar
.
She
did
not
think
of
comparing
;
but
for
all
that
she
felt
the
delicious
glow
of
the
fire
,
the
bright
light
that
revelled
in
every
corner
of
the
room
,
the
savoury
smells
,
the
comfortable
sounds
of
a
boiling
kettle
,
and
the
hissing
,
frizzling
ham
.
With
a
little
old-fashioned
curtsey
she
shut
the
door
,
and
replied
with
a
loving
heart
to
the
boisterous
and
surprised
greeting
of
her
brother
.
And
now
all
preparations
being
made
,
the
party
sat
down
;
Mrs.
Wilson
in
the
post
of
honour
,
the
rocking
chair
on
the
right
hand
side
of
the
fire
,
nursing
her
baby
,
while
its
father
,
in
an
opposite
arm-chair
,
tried
vainly
to
quieten
the
other
with
bread
soaked
in
milk
.
Mrs.
Barton
knew
manners
too
well
to
do
any
thing
but
sit
at
the
tea-table
and
make
tea
,
though
in
her
heart
she
longed
to
be
able
to
superintend
the
frying
of
the
ham
,
and
cast
many
an
anxious
look
at
Mary
as
she
broke
the
eggs
and
turned
the
ham
,
with
a
very
comfortable
portion
of
confidence
in
her
own
culinary
powers
.
Jem
stood
awkwardly
leaning
against
the
dresser
,
replying
rather
gruffly
to
his
aunt
's
speeches
,
which
gave
him
,
he
thought
,
the
air
of
being
a
little
boy
;
whereas
he
considered
himself
as
a
young
man
,
and
not
so
very
young
neither
,
as
in
two
months
he
would
be
eighteen
.
Barton
vibrated
between
the
fire
and
the
tea-table
,
his
only
drawback
being
a
fancy
that
every
now
and
then
his
wife
's
face
flushed
and
contracted
as
if
in
pain
.
At
length
the
business
actually
began
.
Knives
and
forks
,
cups
and
saucers
made
a
noise
,
but
human
voices
were
still
,
for
human
beings
were
hungry
,
and
had
no
time
to
speak
.
Alice
first
broke
silence
;
holding
her
tea-cup
with
the
manner
of
one
proposing
a
toast
,
she
said
,
"
Here
's
to
absent
friends
.
Friends
may
meet
,
but
mountains
never
.
"
It
was
an
unlucky
toast
or
sentiment
,
as
she
instantly
felt
.
Every
one
thought
of
Esther
,
the
absent
Esther
;
and
Mrs.
Barton
put
down
her
food
,
and
could
not
hide
the
fast
dropping
tears
.
Alice
could
have
bitten
her
tongue
out
.
It
was
a
wet
blanket
to
the
evening
;
for
though
all
had
been
said
and
suggested
in
the
fields
that
could
be
said
or
suggested
,
every
one
had
a
wish
to
say
something
in
the
way
of
comfort
to
poor
Mrs.
Barton
,
and
a
dislike
to
talk
about
any
thing
else
while
her
tears
fell
fast
and
scalding
.
So
George
Wilson
,
his
wife
and
children
,
set
off
early
home
,
not
before
(
in
spite
of
mal-à-propos
speeches
)
they
had
expressed
a
wish
that
such
meetings
might
often
take
place
,
and
not
before
John
Barton
had
given
his
hearty
consent
;
and
declared
that
as
soon
as
ever
his
wife
was
well
again
they
would
have
just
such
another
evening
.
"
I
will
take
care
not
to
come
and
spoil
it
,
"
thought
poor
Alice
;
and
going
up
to
Mrs.
Barton
she
took
her
hand
almost
humbly
,
and
said
,
"
You
do
n't
know
how
sorry
I
am
I
said
it
.
"
To
her
surprise
,
a
surprise
that
brought
tears
of
joy
into
her
eyes
,
Mary
Barton
put
her
arms
round
her
neck
,
and
kissed
the
self-reproaching
Alice
.
"
You
did
n't
mean
any
harm
,
and
it
was
me
as
was
so
foolish
;
only
this
work
about
Esther
,
and
not
knowing
where
she
is
,
lies
so
heavy
on
my
heart
.
Good
night
,
and
never
think
no
more
about
it
.
God
bless
you
,
Alice
.
"
Many
and
many
a
time
,
as
Alice
reviewed
that
evening
in
her
after
life
,
did
she
bless
Mary
Barton
for
these
kind
and
thoughtful
words
.
But
just
then
all
she
could
say
was
,
"
Good
night
,
Mary
,
and
may
God
bless
you
.
"
CHAPTER
III
.
JOHN
BARTON
'S
GREAT
TROUBLE
.
But
when
the
morn
came
dim
and
sad
,
And
chill
with
early
showers
,
Her
quiet
eyelids
closed
—
she
had
Another
morn
than
ours
!
Hood
.
In
the
middle
of
that
same
night
a
neighbour
of
the
Bartons
was
roused
from
her
sound
,
well-earned
sleep
,
by
a
knocking
,
which
had
at
first
made
part
of
her
dream
;
but
starting
up
,
as
soon
as
she
became
convinced
of
its
reality
,
she
opened
the
window
,
and
asked
who
was
there
?
"
Me
,
John
Barton
,
"
answered
he
,
in
a
voice
tremulous
with
agitation
.
"
My
missis
is
in
labour
,
and
,
for
the
love
of
God
,
step
in
while
I
run
for
th
'
doctor
,
for
she
's
fearful
bad
.
"
While
the
woman
hastily
dressed
herself
,
leaving
the
window
still
open
,
she
heard
cries
of
agony
,
which
resounded
in
the
little
court
in
the
stillness
of
the
night
.
In
less
than
five
minutes
she
was
standing
by
Mrs.
Barton
's
bed-side
,
relieving
the
terrified
Mary
,
who
went
about
,
where
she
was
told
,
like
an
automaton
;
her
eyes
tearless
,
her
face
calm
,
though
deadly
pale
,
and
uttering
no
sound
,
except
when
her
teeth
chattered
for
very
nervousness
.
The
cries
grew
worse
.
The
doctor
was
very
long
in
hearing
the
repeated
rings
at
his
night-bell
,
and
still
longer
in
understanding
who
it
was
that
made
this
sudden
call
upon
his
services
;
and
then
he
begged
Barton
just
to
wait
while
he
dressed
himself
,
in
order
that
no
time
might
be
lost
in
finding
the
court
and
house
.
Barton
absolutely
stamped
with
impatience
,
outside
the
doctor
's
door
,
before
he
came
down
;
and
walked
so
fast
homewards
,
that
the
medical
man
several
times
asked
him
to
go
slower
.
"
Is
she
so
very
bad
?
"
asked
he
.
"
Worse
,
much
worser
than
ever
I
saw
her
before
,
"
replied
John
.
No
!
she
was
not
—
she
was
at
peace
.
The
cries
were
still
for
ever
.
John
had
no
time
for
listening
.
He
opened
the
latched
door
,
stayed
not
to
light
a
candle
for
the
mere
ceremony
of
showing
his
companion
up
the
stairs
,
so
well
known
to
himself
;
but
,
in
two
minutes
was
in
the
room
,
where
lay
the
dead
wife
,
whom
he
had
loved
with
all
the
power
of
his
strong
heart
.
The
doctor
stumbled
up
stairs
by
the
fire-light
,
and
met
the
awe-struck
look
of
the
neighbour
,
which
at
once
told
him
the
state
of
things
.
The
room
was
still
,
as
he
,
with
habitual
tip-toe
step
,
approached
the
poor
frail
body
,
whom
nothing
now
could
more
disturb
.
Her
daughter
knelt
by
the
bed-side
,
her
face
buried
in
the
clothes
,
which
were
almost
crammed
into
her
mouth
,
to
keep
down
the
choking
sobs
.
The
husband
stood
like
one
stupified
.
The
doctor
questioned
the
neighbour
in
whispers
,
and
then
approaching
Barton
,
said
,
"
You
must
go
down
stairs
.
This
is
a
great
shock
,
but
bear
it
like
a
man
.
Go
down
.
"
He
went
mechanically
and
sat
down
on
the
first
chair
.
He
had
no
hope
.
The
look
of
death
was
too
clear
upon
her
face
.
Still
,
when
he
heard
one
or
two
unusual
noises
,
the
thought
burst
on
him
that
it
might
only
be
a
trance
,
a
fit
,
a
—
he
did
not
well
know
what
,
—
but
not
death
!
Oh
,
not
death
!
And
he
was
starting
up
to
go
up
stairs
again
,
when
the
doctor
's
heavy
cautious
creaking
footstep
was
heard
on
the
stairs
.
Then
he
knew
what
it
really
was
in
the
chamber
above
.
"
Nothing
could
have
saved
her
—
there
has
been
some
shock
to
the
system
—
"
and
so
he
went
on
;
but
,
to
unheeding
ears
,
which
yet
retained
his
words
to
ponder
on
;
words
not
for
immediate
use
in
conveying
sense
,
but
to
be
laid
by
,
in
the
store-house
of
memory
,
for
a
more
convenient
season
.
The
doctor
seeing
the
state
of
the
case
,
grieved
for
the
man
;
and
,
very
sleepy
,
thought
it
best
to
go
,
and
accordingly
wished
him
good-night
—
but
there
was
no
answer
,
so
he
let
himself
out
;
and
Barton
sat
on
,
like
a
stock
or
a
stone
,
so
rigid
,
so
still
.
He
heard
the
sounds
above
too
,
and
knew
what
they
meant
.
He
heard
the
stiff
,
unseasoned
drawer
,
in
which
his
wife
kept
her
clothes
,
pulled
open
.
He
saw
the
neighbour
come
down
,
and
blunder
about
in
search
of
soap
and
water
.
He
knew
well
what
she
wanted
,
and
why
she
wanted
them
,
but
he
did
not
speak
,
nor
offer
to
help
.
At
last
she
went
,
with
some
kindly-meant
words
(
a
text
of
comfort
,
which
fell
upon
a
deafened
ear
)
,
and
something
about
"
Mary
,
"
but
which
Mary
,
in
his
bewildered
state
,
he
could
not
tell
.
He
tried
to
realise
it
,
to
think
it
possible
.
And
then
his
mind
wandered
off
to
other
days
,
to
far
different
times
.
He
thought
of
their
courtship
;
of
his
first
seeing
her
,
an
awkward
,
beautiful
rustic
,
far
too
shiftless
for
the
delicate
factory
work
to
which
she
was
apprenticed
;
of
his
first
gift
to
her
,
a
bead
necklace
,
which
had
long
ago
been
put
by
,
in
one
of
the
deep
drawers
of
the
dresser
,
to
be
kept
for
Mary
.
He
wondered
if
it
was
there
yet
,
and
with
a
strange
curiosity
he
got
up
to
feel
for
it
;
for
the
fire
by
this
time
was
well-nigh
out
,
and
candle
he
had
none
.
His
groping
hand
fell
on
the
piled-up
tea
things
,
which
at
his
desire
she
had
left
unwashed
till
morning
—
they
were
all
so
tired
.
He
was
reminded
of
one
of
the
daily
little
actions
,
which
acquire
such
power
when
they
have
been
performed
for
the
last
time
,
by
one
we
love
.
He
began
to
think
over
his
wife
's
daily
round
of
duties
;
and
something
in
the
remembrance
that
these
would
never
more
be
done
by
her
,
touched
the
source
of
tears
,
and
he
cried
aloud
.
Poor
Mary
,
meanwhile
,
had
mechanically
helped
the
neighbour
in
all
the
last
attentions
to
the
dead
;
and
when
she
was
kissed
,
and
spoken
to
soothingly
,
tears
stole
quietly
down
her
cheeks
:
but
she
reserved
the
luxury
of
a
full
burst
of
grief
till
she
should
be
alone
.
She
shut
the
chamber-door
softly
,
after
the
neighbour
had
gone
,
and
then
shook
the
bed
by
which
she
knelt
,
with
her
agony
of
sorrow
.
She
repeated
,
over
and
over
again
,
the
same
words
;
the
same
vain
,
unanswered
address
to
her
who
was
no
more
.
"
Oh
,
mother
!
mother
,
are
you
really
dead
!
Oh
,
mother
,
mother
!
"
At
last
she
stopped
,
because
it
flashed
across
her
mind
that
her
violence
of
grief
might
disturb
her
father
.
All
was
still
below
.
She
looked
on
the
face
so
changed
,
and
yet
so
strangely
like
.
She
bent
down
to
kiss
it
.
The
cold
,
unyielding
flesh
struck
a
shudder
to
her
heart
,
and
,
hastily
obeying
her
impulse
,
she
grasped
the
candle
,
and
opened
the
door
.
Then
she
heard
the
sobs
of
her
father
's
grief
;
and
quickly
,
quietly
,
stealing
down
the
steps
,
she
knelt
by
him
,
and
kissed
his
hand
.
He
took
no
notice
at
first
,
for
his
burst
of
grief
would
not
be
controlled
.
But
when
her
shriller
sobs
,
her
terrified
cries
(
which
she
could
not
repress
)
,
rose
upon
his
ear
,
he
checked
himself
.
"
Child
,
we
must
be
all
to
one
another
,
now
she
is
gone
,
"
whispered
he
.
"
Oh
,
father
,
what
can
I
do
for
you
?
Do
tell
me
!
I
'll
do
any
thing
.
"
"
I
know
thou
wilt
.
Thou
must
not
fret
thyself
ill
,
that
's
the
first
thing
I
ask
.
Thou
must
leave
me
,
and
go
to
bed
now
,
like
a
good
girl
as
thou
art
.
"
"
Leave
you
,
father
!
oh
,
do
n't
say
so
.
"
"
Ay
,
but
thou
must
!
thou
must
go
to
bed
,
and
try
and
sleep
;
thou'lt
have
enough
to
do
and
to
bear
,
poor
wench
,
to-morrow
.
"
Mary
got
up
,
kissed
her
father
,
and
sadly
went
up
stairs
to
the
little
closet
,
where
she
slept
.
She
thought
it
was
of
no
use
undressing
,
for
that
she
could
never
,
never
sleep
,
so
threw
herself
on
her
bed
in
her
clothes
,
and
before
ten
minutes
had
passed
away
,
the
passionate
grief
of
youth
had
subsided
into
sleep
.
Barton
had
been
roused
by
his
daughter
's
entrance
,
both
from
his
stupor
and
from
his
uncontrollable
sorrow
.
He
could
think
on
what
was
to
be
done
,
could
plan
for
the
funeral
,
could
calculate
the
necessity
of
soon
returning
to
his
work
,
as
the
extravagance
of
the
past
night
would
leave
them
short
of
money
,
if
he
long
remained
away
from
the
mill
.
He
was
in
a
club
,
so
that
money
was
provided
for
the
burial
.
These
things
settled
in
his
own
mind
,
he
recalled
the
doctor
's
words
,
and
bitterly
thought
of
the
shock
his
poor
wife
had
so
recently
had
,
in
the
mysterious
disappearance
of
her
cherished
sister
.
His
feelings
towards
Esther
almost
amounted
to
curses
.
It
was
she
who
had
brought
on
all
this
sorrow
.
Her
giddiness
,
her
lightness
of
conduct
,
had
wrought
this
woe
.
His
previous
thoughts
about
her
had
been
tinged
with
wonder
and
pity
,
but
now
he
hardened
his
heart
against
her
for
ever
.
One
of
the
good
influences
over
John
Barton
's
life
had
departed
that
night
