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Updated: May 2, 2025
The rumor of these struggles was long in reaching the city of Wythburn, and longer in being discussed and understood there; but, to everybody's surprise, young Ralph Ray announced his intention of forthwith joining the Parliamentarian forces. The extraordinary proposal seemed incredible; but Ralph's mind was made up. His father said nothing about his son's intentions, good or bad.
The previous day had been the day of the "winding," a name that pointed to the last offices of Abraham Strong, the Wythburn carpenter.
Ralph only remained, and when Sim returned to consciousness he raised him up, and took him back to Fornside. What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here? Midsummer Night's Dream. Time out of mind there had stood on the high street of Wythburn a modest house of entertainment, known by the sign of the Red Lion.
"What?" said Rotha. "Why," answered Liza, with a big tear near to toppling over the corner of her eye, "why, the crack't 'un goes and gathers up all the maimed dogs in Wythburn; 'Becca Rudd's 'Dash, and that's lame on a hind leg, and Nancy Grey's 'Meg, and you know she's blind of one eye, and Grace M'Nippen's 'King Dick, and he's been broken back't this many a long year, and they all up and follow Robbie when he's nigh almost drunk, and then he's right away he goes with his cap a' one side, and all the folks laughin' the big poddish-head!"
As Sim stood near the gate of the cottage, doubtful whether to go in or go on, the shepherd's wife came out. Would she give him a drink of milk? Yes, and welcome. The woman looked closely at him, and Sim shrank under her steady gaze. He was too far from Wythburn to be dogged by the suspicion of crime, yet his conscience tormented him.
The neighbors told of some maiden aunt, an old crone like herself, who had left Joe's mother aboon a hundred pound." "Wilson knew that much better than our neighbors. He knew, too, where his wife had hidden herself, as she thought, though it had served his turn to seem ignorant of it until then. Sim, he used me to get to Wythburn." "Teush!"
Wilson's life in Wythburn his death Sim's troubles Rotha's sorrow even his father's fearful end, and the more fearful accident at the funeral then his mother's illness, nigh to death how nigh to death by this time God alone could tell him here all, all, with this last misery of his own banishment, seemed somehow to centre in himself.
Naturally enough, the sinister Scot was a welcome if not an agreeable guest when he came as lodger, with money to pay, where poverty itself seemed host. Old Wilson had not chosen the tailor's house as his home on account of any comforts it might be expected to afford him. He had his own reasons for not quitting Wythburn after he had received his very unequivocal "sneck posset."
The tierce of Canary was no pay for acting as successor to Pye, but Southey jumped at the Canary and slipped his last vestige of radicalism quickly. "Oh, what a funny little church," exclaimed Myrtle; "can't we stop and go in?" It is a curious little building that church at Wythburn. It looks like a little girl's playhouse, that might have belonged to her great-great-grandmother.
"There's that fellow we saw at Wythburn again! Why on earth does he come here to fish? I never saw anybody catch a thing in this bit of the river." Poor papa! They were both silent a little. Mr. Cookson had not lived long enough to see Nelly and George Sarratt engaged. The war had killed him.
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