18671917
It was the first night of the Wakes, and the carriers big cart was crowded with folk who came from the neighbouring country to visit their relations and friends. The greasy lamps that diffused a rank, fishy smell threw quivering lights on fantastic bonnets, that ranged in style from the antiquated scuttle with its fall of black net embroidered with chenille of the rich old farmers wife, to the saucy tangle of scarlet poppies that crowned the auburn plaits of the innkeepers daughter.
In the right-hand corner, farthest from the door, sat a withered spinster, dressed in a crape gown and a loose bertha of knitted silk which her mother had worn forty years ago. Her peaked face was very wan, and her eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness like live coals.
The woman who sat nearest to her noted her suppressed excitement, and offered her a draught from a jack-bottle of gin.
Tek a pull, Miss Bland, she said. Troubles ower-coomin yo. I reckon yor brothers ends bin a sad trial.
The spinster waved her uncouthly-gloved hand. Hoosh! she whispered, faintly, theyre talkin abaat a roary-boary-ailis daan theer!
The wearer of the scuttle was describing a meteor which she had seen in the night.
Well, Id just wakkened an turned raand i bed when a leet gan to shine ower th moorexactly as ef th day were breekin. But I felt as I hedna bin a bed long, so I ups an looks at mesters watch, an et were ony five minutes past twelve. O Lord, says I, th heather mun be afire an th corns ready for cuttin! Peter he hears me an slips fro th bed an draws up th blind, an when we looks aat, we sees all th north sky blazin wi colours like a rainbow. Et were i th form o a crown at first, then et gathered westwards an changed to summat like a sword. Theer werena hawf-an-hour ere et died, but nayther me nor mester slept a wink after. Ive heerd as ets a sign o fair weather.
The girl with the poppies chimed in with: Fayther said as fowk proffersied th end o th world fro et!
A low moan crept from the spinsters lips. She had slept heavily at the house in the distant town where her brother had died, and this was the first she had heard of the apparition. She pressed her thin hands against the back of the seat and attempted to rise, but fell back awkwardly.
I canna tell em, she muttered. Etld breek their hearts. Best for et to coom like a thief i th neet.
The facetious man who sat in the opposite corner overheard her last words.
Bless me, mam, hes somebody stole yor purse? he said. Yo do look bad.
She strove to regain her self-possession.
No, she replied, with a sickly smile. Ets ony as Im more nor a bit tired. Ill be all reet i a day or twoay, me, what am I sayin, when th worldsI mean when Im a whöam.
I spose yor feelin duller cause o bein away fro yor young chap, he remarked, giggling foolishly. I blieve as yove never bin parted for so long sin he began coortin yo, thirty-five year sin.
To their credit, the other travellers ignored his attempt to excite their mirth. The story of her courtship belonged to the older generation, and although in her early days folk had spoken jestingly of the lovers who could never make up their minds to wed, time had accustomed them to look compassionately upon the affair. The sole hindrances had been two old mothers who had declared that their homes should never be broken up. But they had died fifteen years ago, and the courtship had continued until both were grey and wrinkled.
The cart lumbered on and onalong the rough heath road that undulated like the waves of a stormy seadown the steep hill and across the ford of the Derwent, where the waters, swollen with a flood in the uplands, touched the horses bellies and wet the straw near the door. Then through the long stretch of woodland, and up the Lydgate lane to the village.
Afront the Bold Rodney the passengers alighted. A round-shouldered gaffer with a bright, kindly face helped the spinster down the steps and swung her cow-hair trunk over his back.
Yore lookin faint, Sarah, he said, an I dunna wonder. Etld try yo sorely bein wi him at th last. By jowks, I hev bin lonesome wiaat yoet seems a year o Sundays sin yo went away. Yoll soon be reet, tho. I stepped across to th house after tea, an I dusted all an leeted th fire an set th kettle on, an then took th cat an laid her i th chair. Yoll be ready for yor supper?
She caught his arm, for her knees were giving way.
I canna eat owtI shanna want onything else to eat or drink, she groaned. O Dave, th end o th worlds coomin to-neet!
He gave such a start that the strap of the trunk loosened and it fell heavily to the ground. The intensity of her manner and his knowledge of her truthfulness brought instant conviction.
An all them ams i pickle, an th owd mare due to foal to-morrow! he lamented.
Dunna bother abaat such things, she whimpered.
Theers weightier matters i hond. Coom indoors, an Ill tell yo all abaat et. Ets no use frightin other fowk; we mun beer et oursens.
He followed to the house-place and set the trunk on the dresser, and stood tremblingly waiting for her to disburden herself of the fatal news. She untied the strings of her bonnet, and unfastened the glossy buttons of the bertha.
Et were th neet after Jakes buryin, she began, hurriedly. Id gone to th market-place for a change, for th house were that stiflin, an I wanted to be whöam again, but Jane said I mun stop another day. An theer were a man preachin on th steps o th crossan aged, venerable man like th picture o Is-yah i th Bible.
She paused for breath. An what did he tell yo? Dave stammered.
He said as hed med it up aat o th proffercies i th Owd Testament an th Revelations i th New as th world were doomed. But we were to hev a sign giena breet leet i th sky at midnighta leet simlar to th roary-boary-ailis as cem last neet, an twenty-four hours after that everything ld hap as he foretold. Th dëadll rise. Eh dear! eh dear!
She began to sob violently; Dave put his arm around her waist.
Wench, he said, with much fervour, dunna fret. Yove done nowt to be shamed o, an no more hev I, an ef we mun die, well, we mun. Hark to th kettle boilin; theers buttered cake i th oven. Surely theer s no call for us to go wi empty bellies. An for th Lords sake dunna lets mention what s coomin till weve doon eatin.
So they partook of a comfortable meal, and when it was finished, Sarah washed the cups and dishes and replaced them on the rack.
Weve ony got two more hours to live, Dave, she said, quietly. If I could hev hed my way, Ild hev chosen soom other time. Th owd-man apples is finer nor theyve bin sin mother died, an theers that bacon o yors wi none to eat et.
Never bother, he said, despondently. Etll be all th same soon. Let us sit an wait hond-i-hond.
They drew nearer the hearth and rested silently until the tall clock struck eleven. Then Sarah rose and moved her chair to the wall.
Lad, she said, spose we go daan to th churchyard an wait theer. Yor fowk an mine are buried alongside, an etld seem more respectful ef we were theer when they cem up. Ill tek a shawl to put under us.
He agreed at once, and they went stealthily down the dark street and over the stile to the south side of the church. There they sat on the grass beside a square tombstone that was embellished with designs of cherubim, and deaths-heads, and hour-glasses. As time passed Sarahs head sank to her lovers shoulder. She was worn out with excitement and fatigue. In a few minutes she fell asleep.
Twelve chimed from the tower and Dave was filled with supreme terror. But no thunderclap came, nor did the graves show any signs of subterranean disturbance. He also began to grow drowsy and he leaned back against the stone, his face touching hers.
Dawn broke, a glorious red dawn, and soon the sunlight touched their eyelids. They awoke simultaneously, and after a moment of amazement, Sarah drew herself away, blushing like a young girl.
That fellow were a liar an a brute, she cried, angrily, gettin two decent fowk to stop aat-o-doors all neet. Whateverll Milton say ef et gets abaat? We mun steal whöam afore onybodys stirrin.
When they entered her garden, they heard the whistling of an approaching ploughboy. Sarah tried to run along the narrow path, but stumbled over a projecting currant bough, and Dave was obliged to carry her indoors.
Ef weve bin seen aar characters gone, she wailed. Milton were eer th evilest thinkin spot i th Peak!
But her lover only laughed. I fear theers nowt for us but to get wed at onct, he said. Yo want someone to look after yo. Ill go an tell parson abaat th spurrins this morn. An now I mun go an see how th mare s gettin on.
The Yeld is a small, stuccoed farmstead, lying in a concave on the south slope of Milton Edge. Three or four fields surround the buildings; beyond, in every direction, runs the moor with its marshes and rocks and tumuli. A few spruce firs shelter the house from the east wind: the storms of two centuries have made them lop-sided and bent the trunks bow-shape, so that such as are nearest rest their tops on the lichened slates.
Miss Bimble was toiling up the sandy path, with a basket of provisions bought in the village of Milton, which lies out of sight beyond the curve of the valley. There was a look of virtuous resolution on her puckered face, an uncommon kindliness that for the nonce made her almost comely. At the stile, where the path entered the first field, she put down her burden, phewed, and mopped her forehead with her apron.
Byr leddy, she muttered, ets more nor hotet s griddlin. I reckon I suffer more wi bein fat. When that poor lad Aitchilees were a-courtin me, we used for to think nowt o th climbet were but childs play then. But I measured nineteen inch raand th waist i those days, an naa Im forty an five inch! Solid flesh, tho, she struck her bosom heavily with her closed hand; better nors to be fun naa-days!
A cur-dog came limping towards her from the house. She recognized it as belonging to her nearest neighbour, an old farmer who lived two miles farther along the Edge. When she reached the gate of the cobbled yard, where the stable and house front and shippon formed three sides of a court, in whose midst steamed a lush, dock-grown manure heap that was surrounded by a brown moat, she saw her visitor sitting on the pig-block beside the door.
Good een to yo, Hannah, he said.
Good een, James. Gods mercy, haa I hev sweated!
Ay, ets close. Theer s thuner abaat. An yove been weighted, too. I thowt Ild coom ower wia bit o news for yo. I went ower th hill to Thornhill this morn, to see haa Aitchilees Chapman were gettin on.
She unlocked the door. Coom in an hev a sup o beer, she said. I tapped et yesternoonet s th March brewin. Well, an haa s he doin?
Im sorry to say as hes dëadhe died just afore I got to th spot.
Eh dear! eh dear! an he were such a fine fellow, he were. An ony fifty. Whateer mun his wife an childer do? Hoos no push abaat her, an th eldest gal esna owd enow to go to sarvice!
Th woman as were nursin him said as hed begged an prayed as they shouldna be sent to th Bastille. Th wifes abed wi another babbyth tenth, an hoo couldna be wi him at th last. Theers talk already o gettin up a scription an fixin em up i a shop.
Ill tell yo what, James, ef they do I shanna be again giin summat. Ive thowt o helpin em all day. Yo know fowk said once upon a time as he were after me?
Oo, ay, I hevna forgot. Yo jilted th poor chap, yo did.
She bridled foolishly and ran on tiptoe (to show that she was still agile) to the pantry, where she drew a pot of ale.
I wunna tell yo what Ill gie, she said. I might surprise yo. Theerll be little need o other scriptions when they get mine. Sup savagely, man, theers plenty more.
He drained the mug and laid it heavily on the table.
No more, thank yo, Hannah. Ets good, thattennone o malt-coom-an-peep-at-th-wayter stuff. Naa I mun rëally go, milkins near, an my owd lass ll be gettin oneasy.
When he had started, she called her own kine, with a shrill, oily: Leddy, coom up, coom up, leddy, and milked and set everything in order for the night. After she had returned to the house-place; she went to an oaken cabinet that stood between the hearth and the window. It was a fine piece of furniture, carved with scenes from Holy Writ. Here Daniel scowled at man-faced lions; there Balaam mercilessly flogged his ass.
She unlocked one of the topmost doors and took from the shelf an uncouth pitcher of shiny green ware, covered with monstrous figures in high relief. As dusk was falling, she lighted a candle, so that she might watch the glittering of the bulging sides.
I dunna like to part wi et, but et seems my duty, she said, sadly. Ets bin i aar famly for hunnerds o years. Feyther always hed et as a sailor brought et fro Chaney.
She passed her hand over the rotund belly.
Monys th carouse yove helped! she murmured, in fond apostrophe. Monys the Bimble as hes gone to bed wi een small as grey peas after suppin fro thee. But thaa mun go to save Aitchilees bäirns. Im fain to part wi thee, but no paar upon earth ld mek me touch th money as I saved as es i th bank.
The dragons eyes winked seducingly, tempting her to a last posset.
Well part i mirth. Good owd friens hev we bin, an to-morrow I mun tek thee daan to Squire Bagshawes, an mind him as he offered ten good pun for thee when he set him daan for a drink last Twelfth. I little thowt that Ild ever find i my heart to part wi thee, but thaa mun know I were fond o Aitchilees, tho I did gie him th mitten. I were sure as he were after th land, an Id heerd as he d walked more nor once wi th wench he wed for th first wife. He might hev her for me: hoo were fow as neet!
She put the jug on the oven-top to heat, and went again to the pantry, to draw another pint of ale.
Feyther said as thaa wert to pass to my eldest lad, she said, as she returned; an as I hevna ony childer, an surely neer will have ony naa, et s as well thaart goin. Cousin Richard Henrys my heir, an I wouldna hev his slut o a wife chippin bits aat o thee, an belike gien thee to th childer for a plaything. Nay, thaadst best go an set up Aitchilees young uns for life.
The door of the cabinet still hung open, showing a row of stone-ware pint bottles.
Et shall be a posseta Kirsmas posset i harvest time. Little else but posset hes been drunk aat o thee i my livin memry. An et mun be th strongest posset as thaast held i thy belly for mony a long year. Gin i et, an rum, an whiskey, an nutmegs, an cloves, an ginger. I wunna hev no milka gill o cream wi lump sugar s th best. An a raand o toast to soften et.
She took a little brass saucepan from the rack and poured in the ale and set it over the clear heart of the fire. One by one she dropped in the spices, and when the contents had begun to simmer, she moved the pan to the hob and cut a slice of bread. This she toasted until it was of uniform straw-colour; then she broke it into the posset jug and soaked it with cream. The ale sent a pungent aroma through the room.
Et s abaat ready, she said, sniffing. Naa I mun pour et in. By th godlings, et smells gran! Ill do thee honour, owd jug; et s the last posset as eer Ill sup fro thee, an Ill mek et rëal powerful.
She filled a tea-cup with neat rum and added it to the rest, stirring carefully meanwhile. When she believed it to be thoroughly mixed, she used the same quantities of whisky and gin. The fragrance actually brought tears to her eyes.
I amna sure as I hevna put too much sperrit to et, but I do consider et s a success. Heres to thy good health i th fine place thaart goin to. Thaalt stan i a press full o Crown Derbybetter compny thaast neer known!
She drank and smacked her lips. Ive fun aat haa to mek posset naa, I do blieve, she exclaimed, gleefully. I neer supped such i my life afore.
Then she drew the table nearer the settle and snuggled in the warmest corner. Ill think abaat Aitchilees as I drink. Happen hell know as he s i my mind, an as Im tendin to do well for them as he s left behind. Like as not my helpll set the childer all on theer feet. They may coom to be well-to-do fowk, an all aat o my posset jug!
The blood, chilled for so many years, grew warm and vigorous as she sipped and sipped. The coarse brush of her fancy painted bright pictures of the pastvignettes akin to those one sees on the porcelain faces of old Derbyshire long-sleeved clocks. She saw herself leaning on his arm as they strolled through meadows aglow with daffy-down-dillies and primroses; she saw him waiting for her at the leppings of the Milton Brook. Then they were kneeling together in one of the square pews of the church, praying from one book. It seemed to her as if she heard his voice, soft and wheedling as ever.
Aitchilees, lad, I looved yo, I did, she whispered.
It was near bedtime now: she took up the jug and drank what was left with one long gulp.
Im afeard et s gotten i my yëad, she sighed, faintly. Im sick-likeI do blieve Ive tekken a drop too much!
She stretched herself full length on the lang-settle, and fell asleep and dreamed that she was turned out of the house for debts that she knew nothing about. When she awoke, candle and fire were out and the room was in utter darkness. She felt as if she cared not whether she lived or died, but her depression was not caused by her lovers death. Rain was beating loudly against the windows; a rumble of thunder shook the air.
She rose, and with the sudden motion, upset the three-legged table. The posset jug fell to the hearth and broke into fragments.
Drat th thing, an drat et an drat et! she snarled. Aitchilees brats ll hev nowt fro me naa!
And she stumbled blindly to the door.