"Why yo" see, he"s a committee-man on this special strike". Th" Unionappointed him because, though I say it as shouldn"t say it, he"s reckoneda deep chap, and true to th" back-bone. And he and t other committeemenlaid their plans. They were to hou"d together through thick andthin; what the major part thought, t"others were to think, whether theywould or no. And above all there was to be no going again the law ofthe land. Folk would go with them if they saw them striving andstarving wi" dumb patience; but if there was once any noise o" fightingand struggling--even wi" knobsticks--all was up, as they knew by th"
experience of many, and many a time before. They would try and getspeech o" th" knobsticks, and coax "em, and reason wi" "em, and m"appenwarn "em off; but whatever came, the Committee charged all memberso" th" Union to lie down and die, if need were, without striking a blow;and then they reckoned they were sure o" carrying th" public with them.
And beside all that, Committee knew they were right in their demand,and they didn"t want to have right all mixed up wi" wrong, till folk can"tseparate it, no more nor I can th" physic-powder from th" jelly yo" gaveme to mix it in; jelly is much the biggest, but powder tastes it allthrough. Well, I"ve told yo" at length about this"n, but I"m tired out. Yo"
just think for yo"rsel, what it mun be for father to have a" his workundone, and by such a fool as Boucher, who must needs go right againthe orders of Committee, and ruin th" strike, just as bad as if he meant tobe a Judas. Eh! but father giv"d it him last night! He went so far as tosay, he"d go and tell police where they might find th" ringleader o" th"
riot; he"d give him up to th" mill-owners to do what they would wi" him.
He"d show the world that th" real leaders o" the strike were not such asBoucher, but steady thoughtful men; good hands, and good citizens,who were friendly to law and judgment, and would uphold order; whoonly wanted their right wage, and wouldn"t work, even though theystarved, till they got "em; but who would ne"er injure property or life:
For," dropping her voice, "they do say, that Boucher threw a stone atThornton"s sister, that welly killed her."
"That"s not true," said Margaret. "It was not Boucher that threw the stone"-she went first red, then white.
"Yo"d be there then, were yo"?" asked Bessy languidly for indeed, shehad spoken with many pauses, as if speech was unusually difficult toher.
"Yes. Never mind. Go on. Only it was not Boucher that threw the stone.
But what did he answer to your father?"
"He did na" speak words. He were all in such a tremble wi" spentpassion, I could na" bear to look at him. I heard his breath coming quick,and at one time I thought he were sobbing. But when father said he"dgive him up to police, he gave a great cry, and struck father on th" facewi" his closed fist, and he off like lightning. Father were stunned wi" theblow at first, for all Boucher were weak wi" passion and wi" clemming.
He sat down a bit, and put his hand afore his eyes; and then made for th"
door. I dunno" where I got strength, but I threw mysel" off th" settle andclung to him. "Father, father!" said I. "Thou"ll never go peach on thatpoor clemmed man. I"ll never leave go on thee, till thou sayst thouwunnot." "Dunnot be a fool," says he, "words come readier than deedsto most men. I never thought o" telling th" police on him; though by G--,he deserves it, and I should na" ha" minded if some one else had donethe dirty work, and got him clapped up. But now he has strucken me, Icould do it less nor ever, for it would be getting other men to take upmy quarrel. But if ever he gets well o"er this clemming, and is in goodcondition, he and I"ll have an up and down fight, purring an" a", and I"llsee what I can do for him." And so father shook me off,--for indeed, Iwas low and faint enough, and his face was all clay white, where itweren"t bloody, and turned me sick to look at. And I know not if I sleptor waked, or were in a dead swoon, till Mary come in; and I telled herto fetch yo" to me. And now dunnot talk to me, but just read out th"
chapter. I"m easier in my mind for having spit it out; but I want somethoughts of the world that"s far away to take the weary taste of it out o"
my mouth. Read me--not a sermon chapter, but a story chapter; they"vepictures in them, which I see when my eyes are shut. Read about theNew Heavens, and the New Earth; and m"appen I"ll forget this."
Margaret read in her soft low voice. Though Bessy"s eyes were shut, shewas listening for some time, for the moisture of tears gathered heavy onher eyelashes. At last she slept; with many starts, and mutteredpleadings. Margaret covered her up, and left her, for she had an uneasyconsciousness that she might be wanted at home, and yet, until now, itseemed cruel to leave the dying girl.
Mrs. Hale was in the drawing-room on her daughter"s return. It was oneof her better days, and she was full of praises of the water-bed. It hadbeen more like the beds at Sir John Beresford"s than anything she hadslept on since. She did not know how it was, but people seemed to havelost the art of making the same kind of beds as they used to do in heryouth. One would think it was easy enough; there was the same kind offeathers to be had, and yet somehow, till this last night she did not knowwhen she had had a good sound resting sleep.
Mr. Hale suggested, that something of the merits of the featherbeds offormer days might be attributed to the activity of youth, which gave arelish to rest; but this idea was not kindly received by his wife.
"No, indeed, Mr. Hale, it was those beds at Sir John"s. Now, Margaret,you"re young enough, and go about in the day; are the bedscomfortable? I appeal to you. Do they give you a feeling of perfectrepose when you lie down upon them; or rather, don"t you toss about,and try in vain to find an easy position, and waken in the morning astired as when you went to bed?"
Margaret laughed. "To tell the truth, mamma, I"ve never thought aboutmy bed at all, what kind it is. I"m so sleepy at night, that if I only liedown anywhere, I nap off directly. So I don"t think I"m a competentwitness. But then, you know, I never had the opportunity of trying SirJohn Beresford"s beds. I never was at Oxenham."