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Updated: June 19, 2025
She was always having him. "I shall have to go myself tomorrow," he said. "I would if I were you," said Gwenda. "I wonder what Jim Greatorex will do if his father dies." It was Mary who wondered. "He'll get married, like a shot," said Alice. "Who to?" said Gwenda. "He can't marry all the girls " She stopped herself. Essy Gale was in the room.
The bed was between her and Phosy, and she never saw her. The doctor had been sharp with her about something the night before: she now took her revenge in suspicion of him, and after a hasty and fruitless visit of inquiry to the kitchen, hurried to Mr. Greatorex.
"We'll goa oopstairs now." He took her back and out through the kitchen and up the stone stairs that turned sharply in their narrow place in the wall. He opened the door at the head of the landing. "This would bae our room. 'Tis t' best." He took her into the room where John Greatorex had died. It was the marriage chamber, the birth-chamber, and the death-chamber of all the Greatorexes.
He didn't want to meet the Vicar and have the door shut in his face. Rowcliffe, informed by Mrs. Blenkiron, was aware, long before Gwenda had warned him, that he ran this risk. The Vicar's funniness was a byword in the parish. But he left the door ajar. "Well," he said gently, "what is it?" "Shall you be seeing Jim Greatorex soon?" "I might. Why?"
"Nat Assy Gaale?" he said. "Assy Gaale? 'Oo's she to mook 'er naame with 'er dirty toongue?" "Yo'll not goa far thot road, Jimmy. 'Tis wi' t' womenfawlk yo'll 'aave t' racken." He knew it. The first he had to reckon with was Maggie. Maggie, being given notice, had refused to take it. "Yo' can please yoresel, Mr. Greatorex. I can goa. I can goa.
But Greatorex was on his knees before her, lighting the fire. "You'll 'ave wet feet coomin' over t' moor. Cauld, too, yo'll be." She sat and watched him. He was deft with his great hands, like a woman, over his fire-lighting. "There she's burning fine." He rose, turning triumphantly on his hearth as the flame leaped in the grate. "Yo'll let me mak' yo' a coop of tae, Miss Cartaret."
"Well, I don't see as how it shouldn't," replied Alice. "It's mis'ess's fortun' as 'as been my misfortun' ain't it now, sir? An' why shouldn't it be the other way next?" "I don't quite see how your mistress's fortune can be said to be your misfortune, Alice." "Anybody would see that, sir, as wasn't blinded by class-prejudices." "Class-prejudices!" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex, in surprise at the word.
The long streaming net shivered with the trembling of her hands. The wedding was at two o'clock. The church was crowded, so were the churchyard and the road beside the Vicarage and the bridge over the beck. Morfe and Greffington had emptied themselves into Garthdale. It was only when it was all over that somebody noticed that Jim Greatorex was not there with the village choir.
But what broke Elise's heart was the knowledge of Azalea's wilful deception. She thanked Mr. Greatorex for his explanations and, again asking him not to mention the matter to any one at all, she put the sampler back in the drawer and locked it up. "Sold my sampler yet, Elise?" Azalea asked, when next they met. "Yes; I bought it in myself," Elise replied. "I wanted it, so I bought it.
Beyond it the green hills with their steep gray cliffs rose and receded, like a coast line, head after head. To Ally the scene was desolate beyond all bearing and the house was terrible. Her eyelids pricked. Her mouth trembled. She kept her back turned to Greatorex while she stifled a sob with her handkerchief pressed tight to her lips. He saw and came to her and put his arm round her.
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