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Updated: June 4, 2025
Death and destruction! she will fall into their hands. I must go there at once. I cannot take any assistance with me. That would betray the poor lady." "If yo'n trust me, ey'n help yo through the difficulty," replied Nance. "Get up then quickly, lass, since it must be so," rejoined Nicholas.
"Yo may spare yer horse an yersel the jorney, then, reverend sir," replied Bess; "for yo'n foind Sir Tummus Metcawfe, wi' some twanty or throtty followers, armed wi' bills, hawberts, petronels, and calivers, at Goldshaw, an they win go wi' ye at wanst, ey'm sartin.
"Yo'n never ha' it, except os a breathless corpse, 'bowt mey consent," rejoined Hal. "We shall see," cried Demdike, rushing forth, and bidding the guards look well to the prisoner. But ere long he returned with a gloomy and disappointed expression of countenance, and again approaching the prisoner said, "Thou hast spoken the truth.
We'n noise enough i' this hole beawt yon startin' or skrikin'. Thae'll ha' th' house full o' fiddlers an' doancers in a bit. 'Well, well, said Isaac, 'aw never yerd sich a tale i' my life! Yo'n bother't me a good while about a piano; but if we'n getten a weshin'-machine that plays church music, we're set up, wi' a rattle!
Molly Brunton gave vent to her opinion on Sylvia's speech in the following words: 'Hoighty-toighty! That tells tales, lass. If yo' treated steady Philip to many such looks an' speeches as yo'n given us now, it's easy t' see why he took hisself off. Why, Sylvia, I niver saw it in yo' when yo' was a girl; yo're grown into a regular little vixen, theere wheere yo' stand!
Yo'n bin a singer yo'rsel, Nanny, i' yo'r young days never a better." "Eh, Skedlock," said Nanny; "aw us't to think I could ha' done a bit, forty year sin an' I could, too though I say it mysel. I remember gooin' to a oratory once, at Bury. Deborah Travis wur theer, fro Shay. Eh! when aw yerd her sing 'Let the bright seraphim, aw gav in.
We'n some singers comin' to neet." "Nay," said I, "I think I'll tak up through Horncliffe, an' by th' moor-gate, to't 'Top o'th Hoof." "Well, then," replied he, "yo mun strike off at th' lift hond, about a mile fur on; an' then up th' hill side, an' through th' delph. Fro theer yo mun get upo' th' owd road as weel as yo con; an' when yo'n getten it, keep it.
Sister Dicey's laugh rang out loud and musical before she replied, "Nevah you min', Brothah Williams. I don' see yo' back bowed so much by de yoke." "Oh, honey, I's labo'in' even ef you do'n know it, but you'll see it on de day." "I 'low you labo'in' de mos' to git dat wife o' yo'n a new dress," and her tormentor's guffaw seemed to admit some such benevolent intention.
He made a motion as if to resent the blow against even such great odds, but controlled himself. "'W'y, doctah, he exclaimed in the saddest voice I have ever heard, 'w'y, doctah! I ain't stole nuffin' o' yo'n, an' I was comin' back. I only run off to see my gal, Lucy, ovah to de Centah. "'You lie! I said, and my hands were busy helping the others bind him upon a horse. Why did I do it?
"Yo'n be sorry when it's too late," said Hal. "Tush!" cried Demdike, "my only regret will be that Uriel's slaughter is paid for by such a worthless life as thine." "Then whoy tak it?" demanded Hal. "'Specially whon yo'n lose your chilt by doing so." "My child!" exclaimed Demdike, surprised. "How mean you, sirrah?"
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