Mary Barton Page #47

Mary Barton: A Tale of Manchester Life is the first novel by English author Elizabeth Gaskell, published in 1848. The story is set in the English city of Manchester between 1839 and 1842, and deals with the difficulties faced by the Victorian working class.

• Novel

								


"No; not for some weeks. When last I went she was so frabbit [42]
with me, that I really thought she wished I'd keep away."


   [Footnote 42: "Frabbit," ill-tempered.]


"Well! if I were you I'd go. Jem will hear on't, and it will do you
far more good in his mind than writing a letter, which, after all,
you would find a tough piece of work when you came to settle to it.
'Twould be hard to say neither too much nor too little. But I must be
going, grandfather is at home, and it's our first night together, and
he must not be sitting wanting me any longer."

She rose up from her seat, but still delayed going.

"Mary! I've somewhat else I want to say to you, and I don't rightly
know how to begin. You see, grandfather and I know what bad times is,
and we know your father is out o' work, and I'm getting more money
than I can well manage; and, dear, would you just take this bit o'
gold, and pay me back in good times?" The tears stood in Margaret's
eyes as she spoke.

"Dear Margaret, we're not so bad pressed as that." (The thought of
her father, and his ill looks, and his one meal a day, rushed upon
Mary.) "And yet, dear, if it would not put you out o' your way,--I
would work hard to make it up to you;--but would not your grandfather
be vexed?"

"Not he, wench! It were more his thought than mine, and we have
gotten ever so many more at home, so don't hurry yoursel about
paying. It's hard to be blind, to be sure, else money comes in so
easily now to what it used to do; and it's downright pleasure to earn
it, for I do so like singing."

"I wish I could sing," said Mary, looking at the sovereign.

"Some has one kind o' gifts, and some another. Many's the time when
I could see, that I longed for your beauty, Mary! We're like childer,
ever wanting what we han not got. But now I must say just one more
word. Remember, if you're sore pressed for money, we shall take it
very unkind if you donnot let us know. Good bye to ye."

In spite of her blindness she hurried away, anxious to rejoin her
grandfather, and desirous also to escape from Mary's expressions of
gratitude.

Her visit had done Mary good in many ways. It had strengthened her
patience and her hope. It had given her confidence in Margaret's
sympathy; and last, and really least in comforting power (of so
little value are silver and gold in comparison to love, that gift
in every one's power to bestow), came the consciousness of the
money-value of the sovereign she held in her hand. The many things it
might purchase! First of all came the thought of a comfortable supper
for her father that very night; and acting instantly upon the idea,
she set off in hopes that all the provision-shops might not yet be
closed, although it was so late.

That night the cottage shone with unusual light, and fire-gleam;
and the father and daughter sat down to a meal they thought almost
extravagant. It was so long since they had had enough to eat.

"Food gives heart," say the Lancashire people; and the next day Mary
made time to go and call on Mrs. Wilson, according to Margaret's
advice. She found her quite alone, and more gracious than she had
been the last time Mary had visited her. Alice was gone out, she
said.

"She would just step to the post-office, all for no earthly use. For
it were to ask if they hadn't a letter lying there for her from her
foster-son Will Wilson, the sailor-lad."

"What made her think there were a letter?" asked Mary.

"Why, yo see, a neighbour as has been in Liverpool, telled us Will's
ship were come in. Now he said last time he were in Liverpool he'd
ha' come to ha' seen Alice, but his ship had but a week holiday, and
hard work for the men in that time too. So Alice makes sure he'll
come this, and has had her hand behind her ear at every noise in th'
street, thinking it were him. And to-day she were neither to have nor
to hold, but off she would go to th' post, and see if he had na sent
her a line to th' old house near yo. I tried to get her to give up
going, for let alone her deafness she's getten so dark, she cannot
see five yards afore her; but no, she would go, poor old body."

"I did not know her sight had failed her; she used to have good eyes
enough when she lived near us."

"Ay, but it's gone lately a good deal. But you never ask after Jem--"
anxious to get in a word on the subject nearest her heart.

"No," replied Mary, blushing scarlet. "How is he?"

"I cannot justly say how he is, seeing he's at Halifax; but he were
very well when he wrote last Tuesday. Han ye heard o' his good luck?"

Rather to her disappointment, Mary owned she had heard of the sum his
master had paid him for his invention.

"Well! and did not Margaret tell yo what he'd done wi' it? It's just
like him though, ne'er to say a word about it. Why, when it were paid
what does he do, but get his master to help him to buy an income for
me and Alice. He had her name put down for her life; but, poor thing,
she'll not be long to the fore, I'm thinking. She's sadly failed of
late. And so, Mary, yo see, we're two ladies o' property. It's a
matter o' twenty pound a year they tell me. I wish the twins had
lived, bless 'em," said she, dropping a few tears. "They should ha'
had the best o' schooling, and their belly-fulls o' food. I suppose
they're better off in heaven, only I should so like to see 'em."

Mary's heart filled with love at this new proof of Jem's goodness;
but she could not talk about it. She took Jane Wilson's hand, and
pressed it with affection; and then turned the subject to Will, her
sailor nephew. Jane was a little bit sorry, but her prosperity had
made her gentler, and she did not resent what she felt as Mary's
indifference to Jem and his merits.

"He's been in Africa and that neighbourhood, I believe. He's a fine
chap, but he's not gotten Jem's hair. His has too much o' the red
in it. He sent Alice (but, maybe, she telled you) a matter o' five
pound when he were over before; but that were nought to an income, yo
know."

"It's not every one that can get a hundred or two at a time," said
Mary.

"No! no! that's true enough. There's not many a one like Jem.
That's Alice's step," said she, hastening to open the door to her
sister-in-law. Alice looked weary, and sad, and dusty. The weariness
and the dust would not have been noticed either by her, or the
others, if it had not been for the sadness.

"No letters!" said Mrs. Wilson.

"No, none! I must just wait another day to hear fra my lad. It's very
dree work, waiting!" said Alice.

Margaret's words came into Mary's mind. Every one has their time and
kind of waiting.

"If I but knew he were safe, and not drowned!" spoke Alice. "If I but
knew he were drowned, I would ask grace to say, Thy will be done.
It's the waiting."

"It's hard work to be patient to all of us," said Mary; "I know I
find it so, but I did not know one so good as you did, Alice; I shall
not think so badly of myself for being a bit impatient, now I've
heard you say you find it difficult."

The idea of reproach to Alice was the last in Mary's mind; and Alice
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