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Updated: June 2, 2025
Morel, cross with the exaggeration, "It's true, mother she hasn't," he cried, jumping up and taking his old position on the hearthrug. "She's never read a book in her life." "'Er's like me," chimed in Morel. "'Er canna see what there is i' books, ter sit borin' your nose in 'em for, nor more can I." "But you shouldn't say these things," said Mrs. Morel to her son.
'I towd him mysen, said Mrs. Goodall, ''Er's held back all this long, let 'er stop as 'er is. 'E'd none ha' had thee for my tellin' tha hears. No, 'e's a fool, an' I know it. I says to him, 'Tha looks a man, doesn't ter, at thy age, goin' an' openin' to her when ter hears her scrat' at th' gate, after she's done gallivantin' round wherever she'd a mind.
"Sorjint?" he broke in mincingly "c'n I fall out an' tork t' me sister? garn, Reddy! wipe orf yer chin! . . . though if I did 'appen t' 'ave a sister she might s'y th' sime fing abaht me, now, as she might s'y abaht you to a lydy-fren' o' 'er's, p'raps. . . ." "Say what?" demanded George incautiously.
Men go down to the graave every second o' the day an' night, but if you could see the sawls a streamin' away, thicker'n a cloud of starlings, you'd find a mass, black as a storm, went down long, an' awnly just a summer cloud like o' the blessed riz up. Hell's bigger'n Heaven; an' er's need to be, for Heaven's like to be a lonely plaace, when all's said.
He stood looking down on her. Then he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Helpless, and as if nobody owned him, he looked. "Have you gone on all right?" asked the wife, rather wearily, as if it were an effort to talk to him. "Yis," he answered. "'Er's a bit behint-hand now and again, as yer might expect." "Does she have your dinner ready?" asked Mrs. Morel.
It's mine gived me by wan whose shoe you ban't worthy to latch! He's shawed me what you be, an' the likes o' you, wi' your hell-fire an' prayin' an' sour looks. I ban't afeared 'o you no more none o' you. I be sick o' the smeech o' your God. 'Er's a poor thing alongside o' mine an' Mister Jan's. I'll gaw, I'll gaw so far away as ever I can; an' I'll never call 'e my faither agin, s'elp me God!"
Theer's a voice hid in you. Listen to that. Nature's spawk to 'e an' now er's dumb. Listen to t'other, lassie. Nature do guide beasts an' birds an' the poor herbs o' the field; but you you listen to t'other. You'll never be happy no more till you awns 'twas a sad mistake an' do ax in the right plaace for pardon." "I want no pardon," she said. "I have done no wrong, I tell 'e. Wheer's justice to?
A few fish scales transferred themselves from the back of his oakum-coloured hand to his venerable brow. "'Tain't no use," he murmured. "'Er's nigh twenty year' ole come nex' month. Tar ain't no use neither. 'Tis new strakes 'ers wantin'." He thumbed the seams of the old boat that lay on the shingle, with the outgoing tide still lapping round her stern. "An' new strakes do cost tarrible lot."
Ay 'er's bin northeast sin 'er seed you a Wednesday. 'Father, do stop talking. You'd wear the leg off an iron pot. I can't think where you've found your tongue, all of a sudden, said Maggie, with caressive sharpness. 'Ah've found it wheer I lost it. Aren't goin' ter come in an' sit thee down, Alfred? But Alfred turned and disappeared.
She must depart, according to his direction, on the following day; for the thatched cottage upon the cliff could be her home no more. "Theer weern't no time for talkin'; but I lay 'er'll sing differ'nt when next ashore. You bide quiet here till 'er's home agin. 'Tain't nachur to bid's awn flaish an' blood go its ways like that. An', 'pears to me, as 'tedn' the law neither.
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