BELL: I was the first to look on her dead face, The morn I came: if she’d but lived a day-- Just one day longer, she’d have let me go. No living woman could have held me here: But she was dead; and so, I had to stay-- A fly, caught in the web of a dead spider. It must be her he favours: and he’s got A dogged patience well-nigh crazes me: A husband, born, as I was never born For wife. But, happen, you ken him, well as I, Leastways, his company-side, since he does business At Bellingham? A happy ending, eh! For our mischances, they should make a match: Though naught that ever happens is an ending; A wedding, least of all. JUDITH: I’ve never seen him. Ruth keeps her counsel. I’d not even heard His name, till late last night; and then by chance: But, I’ve not slept a wink since, you may guess. When I heard “Barrasford of Krindlesyke,” My heart went cold within me, thinking of Jim, And what he’d been to me. I’d had no news Of all that’s happened since I left the day Jim wedded; and ... BELL: The nowt felt like a poacher, When keeper’s sneaked his bunny, and broken his snare? JUDITH: I fancied he, perhaps ... BELL: Ay, likely enough. Jim’s wasted a sight of matches, since that day He burnt his fingers so badly: but he’s not kindled A hearthfire yet at Krindlesyke. Anyway, For Michael to be his son, I’d need to be Even an older flame of his than you: For Michael’s twenty-one. JUDITH: As old as that? But I could never rest, till I’d made sure. Knowing myself, I did not question Ruth ... BELL: What’s worth the kenning’s seldom learned by speiring. JUDITH: Though, knowing myself, I dreaded what might chance, What might already ... BELL: You’d no cause to worrit Michael’s not that sort: he’s respectable-- Too staid and sober for his tinker-mother: He’ll waste no matches, lighting wayside fires. JUDITH: Like me, Ruth’s easy kindled; hard to quench-- A flying spark, and the heather’s afire in a gale; And the fell’s burned to the rock--naught but black ash, When the downpour comes, too late. BELL: Ay--but the flare, And crackle, and tossing flames, and golden smoke; And the sting of the reek in the nostrils! JUDITH: Ruth’ll love Once and for all: like me, she’s born for marriage: Though, in my eager trustfulness, I missed it. You’ll scorn me, as I often scorn myself: But, kenning the worst, in my heart of hearts, I hanker ... Jim meant so much to me once: I can’t forget, Or keep from dwelling on the might-have-been. Snow on the felltop, now: but underground Fire smoulders still: and still might burst to flame. Deceived and broken ... BELL: What’s this jackadandy, That you and Phœbe, both--and kenning him! JUDITH: What’s kenning got to do with love? It makes No difference, once you’ve given ...