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Updated: June 26, 2025
'I ax pardon, but if you'd gie me just a bit of elbow-room for a minute like, I'd hold my babby up, so that he might see daddy's ship, and happen, my master might see him. He's four months old last Tuesday se'nnight, and his feyther's never clapt eyne on him yet, and he wi' a tooth through, an another just breaking, bless him!
"Cuthbert, you are in your dotage!" exclaimed the viscount angrily. "It may be sae, my laird; but I canna think shame o' the leddy! Nay, I canna! Howbeit! richt or wrong, the shame has come till her. Sae, me laird, in marcy take an auld man's counsel, and e'en just gie her her dower, and send her her ways to her feyther's house." "Cuthbert, your brain is softening. Hark ye!
"It mak's me go all of a shake," the good woman added. "Eh, I cannot tell ye! It seems onnatural-like. Yer Feyther's noan like 'issel'. To think of his takkin' on that gate about owd Martin Tyrer; mony a one 'ud be fain enough as he were out o' the road!" Meanwhile Robert himself certainly did not say much, as the neighbours observed; in fact, he said nothing at all.
A feyther's deep an lasting curse leet on her guilty heoad, an on those of aw her accursed race. Nah rest, neet nor day, win ey know, till ey ha brought em to the stake." "Right right my good friend an excellent resolution bring them to the stake!" cried Potts.
A met Nanny Corney i' Monkshaven last neet, and she axed me for t' let our Sylvia come o' New Year's Eve, an' see Molly an' her man, that 'n as is wed beyond Newcassel, they'll be over at her feyther's, for t' New Year, an' there's to be a merry-making. Sylvia's colour came, her eyes brightened, she would have liked to go; but the thought of her mother came across her, and her features fell.
I wonder, Philip, if thy feyther had done a kind deed and a right deed and a merciful deed and some one as he'd been good to, even i' t' midst of his just anger, had gone and let on about him to th' judge, as was trying to hang him, and had getten him hanged, hanged dead, so that his wife were a widow, and his child fatherless for ivermore, I wonder if thy veins would run milk and water, so that thou could go and make friends, and speak soft wi' him as had caused thy feyther's death?
The pillows were put at feyther's back, the blankets over his knee, his pipe and screw of 'baccy being placed handy on the window-sill; then Tom and Bob withdrew to assume their Sunday suits in preparation for the day, while Mrs. Wainwright and her daughters made the bed and tidied the room.
"So ye've not haird?" gasped the fat young woman delightedly. "Feyther's deid o' his dropsy, and Alec and me's awa' to Canady this day fortnight." She panted it out with so honest a joy in the commotion, so innocent a disregard of the tragedy of death and emigration, that Yaverland and Ellen had to turn away and laugh; and he drew her across the road to the cottage.
'Ay, sez my feyther, 'an' I guess you 're Black Dan. 'Sure as you 're born! sez Black Dan, 'I've 'eered o' you before to-day, 'Andsome 'Arry, sez 'e, 'an' meant to make your acquaintance afore this, but I 've been kep' too busy till to-night, sez 'e, 'but 'ere ve are at last, 'e sez, 'an' now vot d' ye think o' that? sez 'e, an' pi'nts a pistol under my feyther's werry nose.
'Good day, Sylvie, he said; 'what are you wanting? How are all at home? Let me help you! Sylvia pursed up her red lips, and did not look at him as she replied, 'I'm very well, and so is mother; feyther's got a touch of rheumatiz, and there's a young woman getting what I want.
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