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Updated: May 22, 2025
Yo've been nowt but a new stone o' stumblin'; an' the Lord knows there's offences enoof already!" Meanwhile, in the room from which his daughter had been driven, Melrose had risen from his seat, and was moving hither and thither, every now and then taking up some object in the crowded tables, pretending to look at it, and putting it down again.
'Yo' might ha' forgotten me; and yet I thought we made a bargain against forgetting each other. No answer. He went on: 'Yo've never been out o' my thoughts, Sylvia Robson; and I'm come back to Monkshaven for nought but to see you once and again afore I go away to the northern seas.
An' what you've been sayin' about Timothy don't make it a 'aporth the better not for yo'! Yo' led 'im into it too if it 'adn't been for yo', 'ee'd never ha' seen the cursed stuff. Yo've dragged 'im down worse nor 'ee were an' yerself an' the childer an' me. An' the drink, an' the lyin'! it turns a man's stomach to think on it. An' I've been livin' with yer these twelve years.
Yo've gien him a taste he'll not forget in a week o' Sundays. Let him go. Jim, with more oaths, struggled to get free, but the landlord had quelled many rows in his time, and his wrists were worthy of his calling. Meanwhile his wife helped up the boy.
"Yo've thought it all out afore me, Mr Lennard, as yo' always do everything," replied Tom.
'Is na' he a fine likely man? I'm so glad as yo've seen him, for he's to be off next week to Newcastle and that neighbourhood. 'But he said he'd come to us some night? asked Sylvia, half in a fright. 'Ay, I'll see as he does; never fear. For I should like yo' for to know him a bit. He's a rare talker. I'll mind him o' coming to yo'.
So when I were better o' th' fever, but weak as water, they says to me, says they, 'If yo can write, you may stay in a week longer, and help our surgeon wi' sorting his papers; and we'll take care yo've your bellyful of meat and drink. Yo'll be twice as strong in a week. So there wanted but one word to that bargain.
While the rest of the party were mopping brows and draining ale-pots in the farmers' public, he was employing himself in aimlessly kicking a stone about one of the streets, when he was accosted by a woman of the shopkeeping class, a decent elderly woman, who had come out for a mouthful of air, with a child dragging after her. 'Yoong mester, yo've coom fro a distance, hannot yo?
'Yo little sloot! she said, seizing her by the arm again, and losing her temper for good and all, 'yo've got your mither's bad blude in yo an it ull coom out, happen what may! 'Hannah! exclaimed Reuben, 'Hannah mind yoursel. 'My mither's dead, said the child, slowly raising her dark, burning eyes. 'My mither worn't bad; an if yo say she wor, yo're a beast for sayin it!
What's what yo've done sin' to what yo' did afore? Yo' conna wipe that out and yo' conna mak' me forget. I hate yo', an' th' worse because I wur beginnin' to be content a bit. I hate mysen. I ought to ha' knowed" wildly "he would ha' knowed whether I wur true or false, poor chap he would ha' knowed."
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