Part 11 (1/2)

JUDITH: You're Mistress Barrasford?

BELL: Ay; so they call me.

JUDITH: I knocked; but no one answered; so, I've taken The liberty of stepping in to rest.

I'm Judith Ellershaw.

BELL: I've heard the name; But can't just mind ... Ay! You're the hard-mouthed wench That took the bit in her teeth, and bolted: although You scarcely look it, either. Old Ezra used To mumble your name, when he was raiming on About the sovereigns Jim made off with: he missed The money more than the son--small blame to him: Though why grudge travelling-expenses to good-riddance?

And still, 'twas shabby to pinch the lot: a case Of pot and kettle, but I'd have scorned to bag The lot, and leave the old folk penniless.

'Twas hundreds Peter blabbed of--said our share Wouldn't be missed--or I'd have never set foot In Krindlesyke; to think I walked into this trap For fifty-pound, that wasn't even here!

I might have kenned--Peter never told the truth, Except by accident. I did ... and yet, I came. I had to come: the old witch drew me.

But, Jim was greedy ...

JUDITH: Doesn't Jim live here, now?

BELL: You're not sent back by the penitent, then, to pay The interest on the loan he took that morning In an absent-minded fit--and pretty tales Are tarradiddles? Jim's not mucked that step In my time: Ezra thought he'd followed you.

JUDITH: Me?

BELL: You're Jim's wife--though you've not taken his name-- Stuck to your own, and rightly: I'd not swap mine For any man's: but, you're the bride the bridegroom Lost before bedtime?

JUDITH: No, 'twas Phbe Martin: And dead, this fifteen-year: she didn't last A twelvemonth after--it proved too much for her, The shock; for all her heart was set on Jim.

BELL: Poor fool: though I've no cause to call her so; For women are mostly fools, where men come in.

You're not the vanished bride? Then who've I blabbed The family-secrets to, unsnecking the cupboard, And setting the skeleton rattling his bones? I took you For one of us, who'd ken our pretty ways; And reckoned naught I could tell of Jim to Jim's wife Could startle her, though she'd no notion of it.

JUDITH: I took you for Jim's wife.

BELL: Me! I'm a fool-- But never fool enough to wear a ring For any man.

JUDITH: Yet, Mistress Barrasford?

BELL: They call me that: but I'm Bell Haggard still; And will be to the day I die, and after: Though, happen, there'll be marriage and giving in marriage In h.e.l.l; for old Nick's ever been matchmaker.

In that particular, heaven would suit me better: But I've travelled the wrong road too far to turn now.

JUDITH: Then you're not the mother of Michael Barrasford?

BELL: And who's the bra.s.s to say he's not my son?

I'm no man's wife: but what's to hinder me From being a mother?

JUDITH: Then Jim is his father?

BELL: And what's it got to do with you, the man I chose for my son's father? Chose--G.o.d help us!

That's how we women gammon ourselves. Deuce kens The almighty lot choice has to do with it!

JUDITH: It wasn't Jim, then?

BELL: Crikey! You're not blate Of asking questions: I've not been so riddled Since that old egg-with-whiskers committed me.

Why harp on Jim? I've not clapped eyes on Jim, Your wors.h.i.+p; though I fear I must plead guilty To some acquaintance with the family, As you might put it; seeing that Jim's brother Is my son's father; though how it came to happen, The devil only kenned; and he's forgotten.

JUDITH: Thank G.o.d, it wasn't Jim.

BELL: And so say I: Though, kenning only Peter, I'm inclined To fancy Jim may be the better man.