England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
The country-side was full, in those days, of stories of the brutal
treatment offered to the insane; stories that were, in fact, but too
well founded, and the truth of one of which only would have been a
sufficient reason for the strong prejudice existing against all such
places. Each succeeding hour that Susan passed, alone, or with the poor
affectionate lad for her sole companion, served to deepen her solemn
resolution never to part with him. So, when Michael came, he was
annoyed and surprised by the calm way in which she spoke, as if
following Dr. Preston’s advice was utterly and entirely out of the
question. He had expected nothing less than a consent, reluctant it
might be, but still a consent; and he was extremely irritated. He could
have repressed his anger, but he chose rather to give way to it;
thinking that he could thus best work upon Susan’s affection, so as to
gain his point. But, somehow, he over-reached himself; and now he was
astonished in his turn at the passion of indignation that she burst
into.
“Thou wilt not bide in the same house with him, say’st thou? There’s no
need for thy biding, as far as I can tell. There’s solemn reason why I
should bide with my own flesh and blood and keep to the word I pledged
my mother on her death-bed; but, as for thee, there’s no tie that I
know on to keep thee fro’ going to America or Botany Bay this very
night, if that were thy inclination. I will have no more of your
threats to make me send my bairn away. If thou marry me, thou’lt help
me to take charge of Willie. If thou doesn’t choose to marry me on
those terms—why, I can snap my fingers at thee, never fear. I’m not so
far gone in love as that. But I will not have thee, if thou say’st in
such a hectoring way that Willie must go out of the house—and the house
his own too—before thoul’t set foot in it. Willie bides here, and I
bide with him.”
“Thou hast may-be spoken a word too much,” said Michael, pale with
rage. “If I am free, as thou say’st, to go to Canada, or Botany Bay, I
reckon I’m free to live where I like, and that will not be with a
natural who may turn into a madman some day, for aught I know. Choose
between him and me, Susy, for I swear to thee, thou shan’t have both.”
“I have chosen,” said Susan, now perfectly composed and still.
“Whatever comes of it, I bide with Willie.”
“Very well,” replied Michael, trying to assume an equal composure of
manner. “Then I’ll wish you a very good night.” He went out of the
house door, half-expecting to be called back again; but, instead, he
heard a hasty step inside, and a bolt drawn.
“Whew!” said he to himself, “I think I must leave my lady alone for a
week or two, and give her time to come to her senses. She’ll not find
it so easy as she thinks to let me go.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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