Part 21 (1/2)

JUDITH: Jim--O Jim!

BELL: Nay: he'll not dangle in a hempen noose.

JUDITH: And yet you saw his body ...

BELL: Dead men's knuckles!

You didn't swallow that gammon? Why should I Be sleeping under Winter's Stob? But Jim-- I doubt if he'd the guts to stick a porker: You needn't fear for him. But I must go.

JUDITH: Go? You'll not go without a sup of tea, After you've traiked so far? Michael and Ruth ...

BELL: Ay, Judith: I just caught a squint of them Among the cluther outside the circus-tent: But I was full-tilt on Jim's track, then: and so, I couldn't daunder: or I'd have stopped to have A closer look: yet I saw that each was carrying A little image of a Barrasford:

(_Looking into the cradle._)

And here's the reckling image, seemingly-- The sleeping spit of Michael at the age.

JUDITH: You never saw such laleeking lads: and they All fas.h.i.+on after their father.

BELL: I'm glad I came.

Even if I'd not struck Jim, I'd meant to come, And have a prowl round the old gaol, and see How Michael throve: although I hadn't ettled To cross the doorstone--just to come and go, And not a soul the wiser. But it turns out I was fated to get here in the nick of time: It seems the old witch drew me here once more To serve her turn and save the happy home.

I judged you'd lost your hold on me, Eliza: But, once a ghost has got a grip of you, It won't let go its clutch on your life until It's dragged you into the grave with it: even then ...

Although my ghost should prove a match for any, I'd fancy, with a fair field, and no favour.

But ghosts and graves! I'm down-in-the-mouth to-day: I must have supped off toadstools on a tombstone, Or happen the droppy weather makes me dyvous: I never could thole the mooth and muggy mizzle, Seeping me sodden: I'd liefer it teemed wholewater, A sousing, drooking downpour, any time.

I'm dowf and blunkit, why, deuce only kens!

It seems as if Eliza had me fey: And that old witch would be the death of me: And these white walls ... 'Twould be the queerest start!

But, Michael's happy?

JUDITH: He's the best of husbands-- The best of fathers: he ...

BELL: I ken, I ken.

Well ... He's got what he wanted, anyway.

JUDITH: And you?

BELL: Ay ... I was born to take my luck.

But I must go.

JUDITH: You'll not wait for them?

BELL: Nay: I'm dead to them: I've bid good-bye to them Till doomsday: and I'm through with Krindlesyke, This time, I hope--though you can never tell.

I hadn't ettled to darken the door again; Yet here I am: and even now the walls Seem closing ... It would be the queerest start If, after all ... But, dod, I've got the dismals, And no mistake! I'm in the dowie dumps-- Maundering and moonging like a spancelled cow: It's over dour and dearn for me in this loaning On a dowly day. Best pull myself together, And put my best foot foremost before darkening: And I've no mind to meet them in the road.

So long!

(_She goes out of the door and makes down the syke._)

JUDITH: Good-bye! If you'd only bide a while ...

Come back! You mustn't go like that ... Bell, Bell!

(_She breaks off, as BELL HAGGARD is already out of hearing, and stands watching her till she is out of sight; then turns, closing the door, and sinks into a chair in an abstracted fas.h.i.+on. She takes up her knitting mechanically, but sits, motionless, brooding by the fire._)

JUDITH: To think that Jim--and after all these years ...

And then, to come like that! I wonder what ...

I wish he hadn't gone without the boots.

(_She resumes her knitting, musing in silence, until she is roused by the click of the latch. The door opens, and BELL HAGGARD stumbles into the room and sinks to the floor in a heap. Her brow is bleeding, and her dress, torn and dishevelled._)