Mary Barton Page #58

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

								

It was impossible. No woman with eyes could choose the one when the
other wooed. It was Hyperion to a Satyr. That quotation came aptly;
he forgot "That a man's a man for a' that." And yet here was a clue,
which he had often wanted, to her changed conduct towards him. If she
loved this man. If-- he hated the fellow, and longed to strike him.
He would know all.

"Mary Barton! let me see. Ay, that is the name of the girl. An arrant
flirt, the little hussy is; but very pretty. Ay, Mary Barton is her
name."

Jem bit his lips. Was it then so; that Mary was a flirt, the giddy
creature of whom he spoke? He would not believe it, and yet how he
wished the suggestive words unspoken. That thought must keep now,
though. Even if she were, the more reason for there being some one to
protect her; poor, faulty darling.

"She's a good girl, sir, though may be a bit set up with her beauty;
but she's her father's only child, sir, and--" he stopped; he did
not like to express suspicion, and yet he was determined he would be
certain there was ground for none. What should he say?

"Well, my fine fellow, and what have I to do with that? It's but loss
of my time, and yours, too, if you've only stopped me to tell me Mary
Barton is very pretty; I know that well enough."

He seemed as though he would have gone on, but Jem put his black,
working, right hand upon his arm to detain him. The haughty young man
shook it off, and with his glove pretended to brush away the sooty
contamination that might be left upon his light great-coat sleeve.
The little action aroused Jem.

"I will tell you in plain words what I have got to say to you, young
man. It's been telled me by one as knows, and has seen, that you walk
with this same Mary Barton, and are known to be courting her; and her
as spoke to me about it, thinks as how Mary loves you. That may be,
or may not. But I'm an old friend of hers, and her father's; and I
just wished to know if you mean to marry the girl. Spite of what you
said of her lightness, I ha' known her long enough to be sure she'll
make a noble wife for any one, let him be what he may; and I mean
to stand by her like a brother; and if you mean rightly, you'll not
think the worse on me for what I've now said; and if--but no, I'll
not say what I'll do to the man who wrongs a hair of her head. He
shall rue it the longest day he lives, that's all. Now, sir, what
I ask of you is this. If you mean fair and honourable by her, well
and good; but if not, for your own sake as well as hers, leave her
alone, and never speak to her more." Jem's voice quivered with the
earnestness with which he spoke, and he eagerly waited for some
answer.

Harry Carson, meanwhile, instead of attending very particularly to
the purpose the man had in addressing him, was trying to gather from
his speech what was the real state of the case. He succeeded so far
as to comprehend that Jem inclined to believe that Mary loved his
rival; and consequently, that if the speaker were attached to her
himself, he was not a favoured admirer. The idea came into Mr.
Carson's mind, that perhaps, after all, Mary loved him in spite of
her frequent and obstinate rejections; and that she had employed this
person (whoever he was) to bully him into marrying her. He resolved
to try and ascertain more correctly the man's relation to her. Either
he was a lover, and if so, not a favoured one (in which case Mr.
Carson could not at all understand the man's motives for interesting
himself in securing her marriage); or he was a friend, an accomplice,
whom she had employed to bully him. So little faith in goodness have
the mean and selfish!

"Before I make you into my confidant, my good man," said Mr. Carson,
in a contemptuous tone, "I think it might be as well to inquire your
right to meddle with our affairs. Neither Mary nor I, as I conceive,
called you in as a mediator." He paused; he wanted a distinct answer
to this last supposition. None came; so he began to imagine he was to
be threatened into some engagement, and his angry spirit rose.

"And so, my fine fellow, you will have the kindness to leave us to
ourselves, and not meddle with what does not concern you. If you were
a brother, or father of hers, the case might have been different. As
it is, I can only consider you an impertinent meddler."

Again he would have passed on, but Jem stood in a determined way
before him, saying,

"You say if I had been her brother, or her father, you'd have
answered me what I ask. Now, neither father nor brother could love
her as I have loved her, ay, and as I love her still; if love gives a
right to satisfaction, it's next to impossible any one breathing can
come up to my right. Now, sir, tell me! do you mean fair by Mary or
not? I've proved my claim to know, and, by G----, I will know."

"Come, come, no impudence," replied Mr. Carson, who, having
discovered what he wanted to know (namely, that Jem was a lover of
Mary's, and that she was not encouraging his suit), wished to pass
on.

"Father, brother, or rejected lover" (with an emphasis on the word
rejected), "no one has a right to interfere between my little
girl and me. No one shall. Confound you, man! get out of my way,
or I'll make you," as Jem still obstructed his path with dogged
determination.

"I won't, then, till you've given me your word about Mary," replied
the mechanic, grinding his words out between his teeth, and the livid
paleness of the anger he could no longer keep down covering his face
till he looked ghastly.

"Won't you?" (with a taunting laugh), "then I'll make you." The young
man raised his slight cane, and smote the artisan across the face
with a stinging stroke. An instant afterwards he lay stretched in the
muddy road, Jem standing over him, panting with rage. What he would
have done next in his moment of ungovernable passion, no one knows;
but a policeman from the main street, into which this road led, had
been sauntering about for some time, unobserved by either of the
parties, and expecting some kind of conclusion like the present to
the violent discussion going on between the two young men. In a
minute he had pinioned Jem, who sullenly yielded to the surprise.

Mr. Carson was on his feet directly, his face glowing with rage or
shame.

"Shall I take him to the lock-ups for assault, sir?" said the
policeman.

"No, no," exclaimed Mr. Carson; "I struck him first. It was no
assault on his side; though," he continued, hissing out his words
to Jem, who even hated freedom procured for him, however justly, at
the intervention of his rival, "I will never forgive or forget your
insult. Trust me," he gasped the words in excess of passion, "Mary
shall fare no better for your insolent interference." He laughed, as
if with the consciousness of power.

Jem replied with equal excitement--"And if you dare to injure her in
the least, I will await you where no policeman can step in between.
And God shall judge between us two."

The policeman now interfered with persuasions and warnings. He locked
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