But it has been a sweet thraldom. When Mary had made up her mind she was
not one to let the grass grow under her feet, and the very next evening
she told me to get me dressed if I meant to go with her to th' Brigg. So
off we set together by Kitchen Fold, over Crossland Moor, past the
plantation where Mr. Horsfall had been shot, and so dropped down into
th' Brigg. I pointed out to Mary the marks of the bullets on the wall on
the road side opposite the little wood; but Mary shivered and drew her
shawl tighter about her and hurried on, casting frightened glances at
the clump of trees and bush as if she feared to see a ghost. She would
not let me go with her to Walker's, bidding me meet her in an hour's
time on the Brigg and be ready to company her back. So I thought I might
as well comfort myself with a glass at th' Nag's Head. It was not so
long since that the landlord would have fussed about me as I drank my
ale and offered me a treat. But now, as I sat aloof from the little
company and took my drink, he talked pointedly to the other customers
about the honest way he had always kept his house, saying he would have
neither Luds nor their brass at th' Nag's Head and their room was better
nor their company. But I would not be hurried for the likes of him, and
called for another gill and made it last out my hour just to spite him.
Mary did not keep me waiting long on th' Brigg, and fain I was to be
off, for little knots of people were clustered in the street and many a
look was cast at me, not over friendly; and faces that I knew well
enough looked stonily at me, and one or two that knew me well enough,
and to whom I gave the day, made as tho' they did not know me from Adam.
It was plain as a pike-staff that the folk at th' Brigg were fleyed out
of their wits of being suspected of having ought to do with the Luds.
They altered their tune later on, when th' first panic had passed, but
for a week or two after George and Thorpe were taken every man was on
his best behaviour, and a good many lived in hourly fear and trembling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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