The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
This matter could not be kept quiet, as the first attempt had been, but
spread from house to house, and gained in size from each successive
tongue, until the man at the foot of the bridge, who naturally detested
me, whispered into every ear, that it was high time to have a care of
that interloping Welshman, who had drowned six fine young noblemen, for
the sake of their buckles and watches. And my courage was at so low an
ebb, that when he retreated into his house, I could not even bring my
mind to the power of kicking his door in. Hence that calumny, not being
quenched, went the round of the neighbourhood; and I might as well haul
down my sign, and the hopes of any public-house became a fading vision.
And of all the fine young women who had set their hearts upon keeping it
(as I described my intention to them), and who had picked up bits of
Welsh, for an access to my heart in all its patriotism, there was not
one worth looking at, or fit to be a landlady, who took the trouble to
come near me, in the frosty weather.
When a man is forsaken by the world, he must have recourse to reason.
And if only borne up thereby, and with a little cash in hand, he can
wait till the world comes round again. This was my position now. I never
had behaved so well in all my life before, I think; though always
conscientious. But of late I had felt, as it were, in one perpetual
round of bitter wrestling with the evil one. Men of a loose kind may not
see that this was tenfold hard upon me, from my props being knocked
away. I mean my entire trust and leaning upon the ancient Church of
England, which (perhaps by repulsion from those fellows that came after
our old ham, as well as our proper parson's knowledge of soles and the
way to fry them) had increased upon me so, that my heart leaped up
whenever I heard the swing of a bell on Sunday. Some of this perhaps
was owing to my thoughts of Newton clock, and twelve shillings now due
to me from my captainship thereof: but how could this loyal and
ecclesiastical fervour thrive, while a man in holy orders did such
unholy things to me?
The only one with faith enough, and sense enough, to stand by me now,
through this bitter trial, was that beautiful young lady, whom I did
admire so. And if till now I admired only, now I did adore her. Nanette
did for herself with me, and all her hopes of ever being Mrs David
Llewellyn, by poking up her little toes,--and I saw that they were all
square almost,--and with guttural noises crying that on board my boat
she would not dare. Miss Carey laughed at her, and stepped with her
beautiful boots on board of me; and from that moment she might do
exactly as she pleased with me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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