Helbeck of Bannisdale, vol 2

Helbeck of Bannisdale, vol 2
[with accents]

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Title: Helbeck of Bannisdale, Vol. II
Author: Mrs. Humphry Ward
Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9442] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on October 1,
2003]
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OF BANNISDALE, VOL. II ***

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HELBECK OF BANNISDALE
by
MRS. HUMPHRY WARD
... metus ille ... Acheruntis ... Funditus humanam qui vitam turbat ab
imo
In two volumes
Vol. II.

CONTENTS
BOOK III (_continued_)
BOOK IV
BOOK V

BOOK III Continued
HELBECK OF BANNISDALE
CHAPTER II
.
"Look out there! For God's sake, go to your places!"
The cry of the foreman reached the ears of the clinging women. They
fell apart--each peering into the crowd and the tumult.
Mounted on a block of wood about a dozen yards from them--waving
his arm and shouting to the stream of panic-stricken workmen--they
saw the man who had been their guide through the works. Four
white-hot ingots, just uncovered, blazed deserted on their truck close to

him, and a multitude of men and boys were pushing past them,
tumbling over each other in their eagerness to reach the neighbourhood
of the furnace. The space between the ingots and some machinery near
them was perilously narrow. At any moment, those rushing past might
have been pushed against the death-bearing truck. Ah! another cry. A
man's coat-sleeve has caught fire. He is pulled back--another coat is
flung about him--the line of white faces turns towards him an
instant--wavers--then the crowd flows on as before.
Another man in authority comes up also shouting. The man on the
block dismounts, and the two hold rapid colloquy. "Have they sent for
Mr. Martin?" "Aye." "Where's Mr. Barlow?" "He's no good!" "Have
they stopped the mills?" "Aye--there's not a man'll touch a thing--you'd
think they'd gone clean out of their minds. There'll be accidents all over
the place if somebody can't quiet 'em."
Suddenly the buzzing groups behind the foreman parted, and a young
broad-shouldered workman, grimed from head to foot, his blue eyes
rolling in his black face, came staggering through.
"Gie ma a drink," he said, clutching at the old woman; "an let ma sit
down!"
He almost fell upon an iron barrow that lay face downwards on the path.
Laura, sitting crouched and sick upon the ground, raised her head to
look at him. Another man, evidently a comrade, followed him, took the
mug of cold tea from the old woman's shaking hand, lifted his head and
helped him drink it.
"Blast yer!--why ain't it spirits?" said the youth, throwing himself back
against his companion. His eyes closed on his smeared cheeks; his jaw
fell; his whole frame seemed to sink into collapse; those gazing at him
saw, as it were, the dislocation and undoing of a man.
"Cheer up, Ned--cheer up," said the older man, kneeling down behind
him--"you'll get over it, my boy--it worn't none o' your fault. Stand
back there, you fellows, and gie im air."
"Oh, damn yer! let ma be," gasped the young fellow, stretching himself
against the other's support, like one who feels the whole inner being of
him sick to death, and cannot be still for an instant under the anguish.
The woman with the tea began to cry loudly and ask questions. Laura
rose to her feet, and touched her.
"Don't cry--can't you get some brandy?" Then in her turn she felt

herself caught by the arm.
"Miss Fountain--Miss Laura--I can get you out of this!--there's a way
out here by the back."
Mason's white countenance showed over her shoulder as she turned.
"Not yet--can't anyone find some brandy? Ah!"
For their guide came up at the moment with