Christian life; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction
The humbler apartment was separated from the other by a panelled closet
or rather box, which served the double purpose of bed and partition. The
remaining walls were imperfectly plastered with clay; and the rude
frame-work of the roof was visible, where light enough to make it so was
admitted by the aperture which served for a chimney, and by a window of
four panes, one of which was boarded, and another stuffed with rags.
Beneath the above-mentioned aperture, the bounds of the fire-place were
marked only by a narrow piece of pavement, upon which a turf-fire
smouldered unconfined against the wall. The smoke, thus left at large,
had dyed the rafters of an ebon hue; and, mixing with the condensed
vapour, distilled in inky drops from the roof. The floor was strewed
with water-pails, iron-pots, wooden-ware, and broken crockery. Cecil's
eldest child, a boy of about four years old, tartaned and capped as
martially as any 'gallant Graham' of them all, sprawled contentedly in
the middle of the litter, sharing his supper of barley-bread with an
overgrown pet lamb; and the youngest attired with rather less ceremony,
crouched by the side of a black pot, contesting with the cock the
remains of a mess of oatmeal pottage.
From these postures of ease, however, Cecil instantly snatched them
both. 'Up, ill manners!' cried she; 'think it your credit to stand when
the gentles come to see you.' This maxim she enforced by example, for no
entreaties could prevail upon her to be seated in our presence.
The sallow, haggard countenance of poor James appeared through the open
panel of the bed; and Miss Graham approaching, enquired 'how he felt
himself?'
'Ye're good that asks,' said Cecil, answering for him; 'but he'll never
be better, and he has no worse to be.'
'These people are savages, after all!' thought I. 'Would any humanised
being have pronounced such a sentence in the sick man's hearing?' I
stole a glance towards the bed, half fearing to witness the effect of
her barbarity.
'Trouble must have its time,' said the man cheerfully; 'but we must just
hope it'll no be long now.'
This was so little like fear, that I was obliged to convert the words of
encouragement into those of congratulation; and after Miss Graham had
made some more particular enquiries, I expressed my satisfaction in
observing such apparent resignation.
'Deed, ma'am,' said James, 'I cannot say but that I am willing enough to
depart; I'm whiles feared, indeed; but then I'm whiles newfangled.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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