The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
Be that according to God's will--as we always say when deprived of our
own--at any rate, I am bound to tell one little thing more about each
quest. And first about the first one. Why was I so vexed and angry with
my foolish tongue when Hezekiah began to speak? Only because I knew full
well that it would lead to the very thing, which it was my one desire to
avoid, if possible. And this--as you may guess at once, after what
happened on the stairs--was the rude fetching and exposing of the dear
little maid among so many common fellows; and to show her the
baby-corpse. I feared that it must come to this, through my own
thoughtless blabbing about her "ickle bother" in the presence of
Hezekiah: and if ever man had a hollow dry heart from over-pumping of
the tongue, I had it when Hezekiah came in; bearing, in a depth of
fright and wonder, and contempt of him, my own delicate Bardie. I had
set my back against the door, and sworn that they should not have her;
but crafty Perkins had stolen out by another door while they humoured
me. Now my pretty dear was awed, and hushed beyond all crying, and even
could not move her feet, as children do, in a kicking way. Trying to get
as far as possible from Hezekiah's nasty face--which gave me a great
deal of pleasure, because she had never done the like to me, unless I
were full of tobacco--she stretched away from his greasy shoulder, and
then she saw old Davy. Her hands came toward me, and so did her eyes,
and so did her lips, with great promise of kisses, such as her father
and mother perhaps might have been mightily tempted by; but nobody now
to care for them.
When Hezekiah, pretending to dandle this little lady in a jaunty way,
like one of his filthy low children, was taking her towards that poor
little corpse, so white in the light of the window; and when he made
her look at it, and said, "Is that ickle bother, my dear?" and she all
the time was shivering and turning her eyes away from it, and seeking
for me to help her, I got rid of the two men who held me, nor hearkened
I the Coroner, but gave Hezekiah such a grip as he felt for three months
afterwards, and with Bardie on my left arm, kept my right fist ready.
Nobody cared to encounter this; for I had happened to tell the
neighbourhood how the Frenchman's head came off at the time when he
tried to injure me; and so I bore off the little one, till her chest
began to pant and her tears ran down my beard. And then as I spoke
softly to her and began to raise her fingers, and to tickle her frizzy
hair, all of a sudden she flung both arms around my neck, and loved me.
"Old Davy, poor ickle Bardie not go to 'e back pit-hole yet?"
"No, my dear, not for ever so long. Not for eighty years at least. And
then go straight to heaven!"
"Ickle bother go to 'e back pit-hole? Does 'a think, old Davy?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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