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All the hidden powers of the airth an' the sea edn' gwaine to keep me from that man. Now I'll leave 'e; an' I'm sorry, Mary Chirgwin, as you caan't find it in your heart to help me, but so the Lard wills it. I won't ax 'e to shake my hand, for theer'll be blood on it sooner or later the damnedest blood as ever a angry God called 'pon wan o' His creatures to spill out."
She relapsed into motionless silence and, herself now wholly tearless, watched the tears of Chris, who had sunk down on the floor between the mother and son. "Why for do you cry an' wring your hands so hard?" she asked suddenly. "You'm awnly a girl yet young an' soft-cheeked wi' braave bonny eyes. Theer'll be many a man's breast for you to comfort your head on. But me!
My lad!" panted the farmer, "I am sorry." "Thanky, farmer; but fine words butter no parsneps. Theer, bairn," he cried, putting his arm round his wife's waist; "don't cry that away. We aren't owd folks, and I'm going to begin again. Be a good dry plaace after fire's done, and theer'll be some niced bits left for yow to heat the oven when fire's out." "And no oven, no roof, no fireside."
Why, theer'll be him and old Jack, and they'll have no end of a game aboard when theer's a calm. There, the skipper's gone to old Greg, and you aren't said a word." "But I will," said Mark. "Who is Jack?" "Who is Jack! Why, I thought every one knowed who Jack is. Our big monkey. He's tucked up somewhere 'cause it's cold. You wait till the sun's out."
I want thee to remember it allus, an' to moind him 'at's dead, an' let his little hond howd thee back fro' sin an' hard thowts. I'll pray fur thee neet an' day, Tim, an' tha shalt pray fur me, an' happen theer'll come a leet.
The signs of 'conviction' in any hitherto unregenerate soul are marked at once, and the 'saved' make a prey of it, showing a marvellous cunning and persistence in its pursuit. One day a woman, the wife of a Clough End shoemaker, slightly known to David, met him on the moors. 'Will yo coom to-night? she said, nodding to him. 'Theer'll be prayin' at our house about half a dozen.
Theer'll be a tidy upstore when Miller comes to hear tell " But Mr. Lyddon was at the door and Phoebe answered his questioning eyes. "My birthday, dear faither. You must remember why, you was the first to give me joy of it! Twenty-one to-day, an' I must go I must 'tis my duty afore everything." The old man's jaw fell and he looked the picture of sorrowful surprise.
I kinder guess as heow I kin cut the thing. It 'peers to be all o' one piece, an' 'll peel off yeer body like a rope o' rushes. Ef I cut it, theer'll be a chance for ye. Theer's only one o' the verming ahint the mound. Yeer hoss air theer; make for the anymal mount 'im, an' put off like a streak o' greased lightnin'! Neow!"
At all events, we'll make a fight for it, Joseph we'll make a fight for it." Here he took the billhook and the saw from his assistant, and strode on, swinging one of the tools in each hand. "Theer'll be no need for a fight," returned Joseph. "Her's no higher than sixpenn'orth o' soap after a hard day's washing." "That's wrong reckoning, Joseph," said the earl; "wrong reckoning.
That's what 't is to have laid by a tidy mort o' righteousness 'gainst a evil hour!" "You 'm well out of it, sure enough." "Ess, 't is so. I misjudged the Lard shocking, an' I'm man enough to up and say it, thank God. He was right an' I was wrong; an' lookin' back, I sees it. So I'll come back to the fold, like the piece of silver what was lost; an' theer'll be joy in heaven, as well theer may be.
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