Part 12 (1/2)

When I heard ”Barrasford of Krindlesyke,”

My heart went cold within me, thinking of Jim, And what he'd been to me. I'd had no news Of all that's happened since I left the day Jim wedded; and ...

BELL: The nowt felt like a poacher, When keeper's sneaked his bunny, and broken his snare?

JUDITH: I fancied he, perhaps ...

BELL: Ay, likely enough.

Jim's wasted a sight of matches, since that day He burnt his fingers so badly: but he's not kindled A hearthfire yet at Krindlesyke. Anyway, For Michael to be his son, I'd need to be Even an older flame of his than you: For Michael's twenty-one.

JUDITH: As old as that?

But I could never rest, till I'd made sure.

Knowing myself, I did not question Ruth ...

BELL: What's worth the kenning's seldom learned by speiring.

JUDITH: Though, knowing myself, I dreaded what might chance, What might already ...

BELL: You'd no cause to worrit Michael's not that sort: he's respectable-- Too staid and sober for his tinker-mother: He'll waste no matches, lighting wayside fires.

JUDITH: Like me, Ruth's easy kindled; hard to quench-- A flying spark, and the heather's afire in a gale; And the fell's burned to the rock--naught but black ash, When the downpour comes, too late.

BELL: Ay--but the flare, And crackle, and tossing flames, and golden smoke; And the sting of the reek in the nostrils!

JUDITH: Ruth'll love Once and for all: like me, she's born for marriage: Though, in my eager trustfulness, I missed it.

You'll scorn me, as I often scorn myself: But, kenning the worst, in my heart of hearts, I hanker ...

Jim meant so much to me once: I can't forget, Or keep from dwelling on the might-have-been.

Snow on the felltop, now: but underground Fire smoulders still: and still might burst to flame.

Deceived and broken ...

BELL: What's this jackadandy, That you and Phbe, both--and kenning him!

JUDITH: What's kenning got to do with love? It makes No difference, once you've given ...

BELL: If I've a heart, And it's broken, it's a broken stone, sunk deep In bottomless moss.h.a.gs, where no heat can touch it, Till the whole world grills, at last, on h.e.l.l's gridiron.

JUDITH: Nothing you ken of broken hearts, or h.e.l.l, To talk so lightly. I have come through h.e.l.l: But you have never loved. What's given in love, Is given. It's something to have loved, at least: And I have Ruth.

BELL: Ay, the green bracken-shoots, Soon push through the black litter of charred heath: And you have Ruth.

JUDITH: Or, had her, till last night: I've lost her, now, it seems.

BELL: You let life hurt you: You shy at shadows; and shrink from the crack of the whip, Before the lash stings: and life loves no sport Like yarking a s.h.i.+vering hide: you ask for it.

JUDITH: I've been through much.

BELL: And so, you should ken better Than to hang yourself, before the judge gives sentence: His honour can put the black cap on for himself, Without your aid. You'll die a thousand deaths, Before your end comes, peacefully in bed.

Why should you go half-way to meet your funeral?

JUDITH: Though there's a joy in giving recklessly, In flinging all your f.a.ggots on the blaze, In losing all for love--a crazy joy Long years of suffering cannot quench, I'd have Ruth spared that madness: and kenning she's just myself Born over, how could I sleep with the dread upon me?

She'd throw herself away; would burn to waste, Suffering as I have ...

BELL: Anyway, you burned: And who's to say what burns to waste, even when The kindled peatstack fires the steading? Far better To perish in a flare, than smoulder away Your life in smother: and what are f.a.ggots for, If not for firing? But, you've suffered, woman, More than need be, because you were ashamed.