Sylvia's Lovers — Volume 2Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn
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Sylvia's Lovers — Volume 2
Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn
Historical fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Women -- England -- Fiction; Yorkshire (England) -- Fiction
'Measter Hepburn!' said one in amaze. But immediately they put two
and two together; for in so small a place as Monkshaven every one's
relationships and connexions, and even likings, were known; and the
motive of Philip's coming out to Haytersbank was perfectly clear to
these men.
'T' other 'll not be far off,' said the other constable. 'His plate
were down-stairs, full o' victual; a seed Measter Hepburn a-walking
briskly before me as a left Monkshaven.'
'Here he be, here he be,' called out the other man, dragging Daniel
out by his legs, 'we've getten him.'
Daniel kicked violently, and came out from his hiding-place in a
less ignominious way than by being pulled out by his heels.
He shook himself, and then turned, facing his captors.
'A wish a'd niver hidden mysel'; it were his doing,' jerking his
thumb toward Philip: 'a'm ready to stand by what a've done. Yo've
getten a warrant a'll be bound, for them justices is grand at
writin' when t' fight's over.'
He was trying to carry it off with bravado, but Philip saw that he
had received a shock, from his sudden look of withered colour and
shrunken feature.
'Don't handcuff him,' said Philip, putting money into the
constable's hand. 'You'll be able to guard him well enough without
them things.'
Daniel turned round sharp at this whisper.
'Let-a-be, let-a-be, my lad,' he said. 'It 'll be summut to think on
i' t' lock-up how two able-bodied fellys were so afeared on t' chap
as reskyed them honest sailors o' Saturday neet, as they mun put him
i' gyves, and he sixty-two come Martinmas, and sore laid up wi' t'
rheumatics.'
But it was difficult to keep up this tone of bravado when he was led
a prisoner through his own house-place, and saw his poor wife
quivering and shaking all over with her efforts to keep back all
signs of emotion until he was gone; and Sylvia standing by her
mother, her arm round Bell's waist and stroking the poor shrunken
fingers which worked so perpetually and nervously in futile
unconscious restlessness. Kester was in a corner of the room,
sullenly standing.
Bell quaked from head to foot as her husband came down-stairs a
prisoner. She opened her lips several times with an uneasy motion,
as if she would fain say something, but knew not what. Sylvia's
passionate swollen lips and her beautiful defiant eyes gave her face
quite a new aspect; she looked a helpless fury.
'A may kiss my missus, a reckon,' said Daniel, coming to a
standstill as he passed near her.
'Oh, Dannel, Dannel!' cried she, opening her arms wide to receive
him. 'Dannel, Dannel, my man!' and she shook with her crying, laying
her head on his shoulder, as if he was all her stay and comfort.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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