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Updated: June 11, 2025
He had to return discomfited to Sylvia, who meanwhile had arranged her thoughts ready to return to the charge. 'And say he's sent to York, and say he's tried theere, what's t' worst they can do again' him? asked she, keeping down her agitation to look at Philip the more sharply.
Theere now, she's a beauty, if she'll stand still. There's niver sich a cow i' t' Riding; if she'll only behave hersel'. She's a bonny lass, she is; let down her milk, theere's a pretty! 'Why, Kester, laughed Sylvia, 'thou'rt asking her for her milk wi' as many pretty speeches as if thou wert wooing a wife!
'Then I'd better tell Donkin as we've no work for him, said Sylvia, instinctively managing her father by agreeing with him, instead of reasoning with or contradicting him. 'Now, theere you go! wrenching himself round, for fear Sylvia should carry her meekly made threat into execution. 'Ugh! ugh! as his limb hurt him.
'He said this world had been too strong for him, and men too hard upon him; he could niver do any good here, and he thought he should, maybe, find folks i' t' next place more merciful. 'He'll meet feyther theere, said Sylvia, still hard and bitter.
But for all that her flag was drooping i' t' rain, half mast high, for mourning and sorrow, an' they'd a dead man aboard a dead man as was living and strong last sunrise. An' there was another as lay between life an' death, and there was seven more as should ha' been theere as wasn't, but was carried off by t' gang.
"Iss, father." "I want 'ee to come down to the owld shaft with me, an' when I give 'ee the ward cut away as hard as thee legs can spank to Balaswidden, an' fetch the lads that are theere to the owld shaft. They knaw what to do, but tell 'em to make so little noise as they can. Dost a hear, my son?"
I know my mother 'll let me, if she doesn't go hersen; for it 'll be a sight to see and to speak on for many a long year, after what I've heerd. And Miss Fishburns is sure to be theere, so I'd just get Donkin to cut out cloak itsel', and keep back yer mind fra' fixing o' either cape or hood till Sunday's turn'd.
I did, my Charley, my own love! And I thought thou was dead for iver, and I wished I were lying beside thee. Oh, Charley! Philip, theere, where he stands, could tell yo' this was true. Philip, wasn't it so? 'Would God I were dead! moaned forth the unhappy, guilty man.
Theere now, she's a beauty, if she'll stand still. There's niver sich a cow i' t' Riding; if she'll only behave hersel'. She's a bonny lass, she is; let down her milk, theere's a pretty! 'Why, Kester, laughed Sylvia, 'thou'rt asking her for her milk wi' as many pretty speeches as if thou wert wooing a wife!
Saturday morn yo'll mind Saturday morn, it were stormy and gusty, downreet dirty weather theere stood t' folk again by daylight, a watching an' a straining, and by that tide t' Good Fortune came o'er t' bar. But t' excisemen had sent back her news by t' boat as took 'em there. They'd a deal of oil, and a vast o' blubber.
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