Krindlesyke | Page 8

it from them,?While they've a sense left that can savour aught.?So, let the lass go. You may have the right?To question her: but folk who stand on their rights?Get little rest: they're on a quaking moss?Without a foothold; and find themselves to the neck?In Deadman's Flow, before they've floundered far.?Rights go for little, in this life: few are worth?The risk of losing peace and quiet. You'll have?Plenty to worrit, and keep you wakeful, without?A pillow stuffed with burrs and briars: so, take?An old wife's counsel, daughter: let well alone;?And don't go gathering grievances. The lass ...
JIM:?Ay, don't be hard on her. Though mother's old,?She talks sense, whiles. So let the poor lass go.
JUDITH:?The father of my bairn ...
JIM:
She's lying, Phoebe!
JUDITH:?The father of my bairn is--William Burn--?A stranger to these parts. Now, let me pass.
(_She tries to slip by, but PHOEBE still does not make way for her._)
JIM:?Ay, Phoebe, let her go. She tells the truth.?I thought ... But I mistook her. Let her go.?I never reckoned you'd be a reesty nag:?Yet, you can set your hoofs, and champ your bit?With any mare, I see. I doubt you'll prove?A rackle ramstam wife, if you've your head.?She's answered what you asked; though, why, unless ...?Well, I don't blame the wench: she should ken best.
PHOEBE:?Judith, you lie.
JUDITH:
I lie! You mean ...
PHOEBE:
To-day,?I married your bairn's father.
ELIZA:
O God!
JIM:
Come, lass,?I say!
JUDITH:
No woman, no! I spoke the truth.?Haven't I shamed myself enough already--?That you must call me liar! (_To ELIZA_) Speak out now,?If you're not tongue-tied: tell her all you ken--?How I'm a byword among honest women,?And yet, no liar. You'd tongue enough just now?To tell me what I was--a cruel tongue?Cracking about my ears: and have you none?To answer your son's wife, and save the lad?From scandal?
ELIZA:
I've not known the lass to lie ...?And she's the true heart, Phoebe, true as death,?Whatever it may seem.
JIM:
That's that: and so ...
(_While they have been talking, EZRA has risen from the settle, unnoticed; and has hobbled to where PHOEBE and JUDITH confront one another. He suddenly touches PHOEBE's arm._)
EZRA:?Cackling like guinea-fowl when a hawk's in air!?I must have snoozed; yet, I caught the gabble. There'll be?A clatter all day now, with two women's tongues,?Clack-clack against each other, in the house--?Two pendulums in one clock. Lucky I'm deaf.?But, I remember. Give me back the bairn.?Nay: this is not the wench. I want Jim's bride--?The mother of his daughter. Judith, lass,?Where are you? Come, I want to nurse my grandchild--?Jim's little lass.
ELIZA (_stepping towards EZRA_):
Come, hold your foolish tongue.?You don't know what you're saying. Come, sit down.
(_Leads him back to the settle._)
JIM:?If he don't stop his yammer, I'll slit his weasen--?I'll wring his neck for him!
EZRA:
What's wrong? What's wrong??I'm an old man, now; and must do as I'm bid like a bairn--?I, who was master, and did all the bidding.?And you, Jim, I'd have broken your back like a rabbit's,?At one time, if you'd talked to me like that.?But now I'm old and sightless; and any tit?May chivvy a blind kestrel. Ay, I'm old?And weak--so waffly in arms and shanks, that now?I couldn't even hold down a hog to be clipped:?So, boys can threaten me, and go unskelped:?So you can bray; and I must hold my peace:?Yet, mark my words, the hemp's ripe for the rope?That'll throttle you one day, you gallows-bird.?But, something's happening that a blind man's sense?Cannot take hold of; so, I'd best be quiet--?Ay, just sit still all day, and nod and nod,?Until I nod myself into my coffin:?That's all that's left me.
JUDITH (_to PHOEBE_):
You'd weigh an old man's gossip?Against my word? O woman, pay no heed?To idle tongues, if you'd keep happiness.
PHOEBE:?While the tongue lies, the eyes speak out the truth.
JUDITH:?The eyes? Then you'll not take my word for it,?But let a dotard's clatterjaw destroy you??You ken my worth: yet, if you care for Jim,?You'll trust his oath. If he denies the bairn,?Then, you'll believe? You'd surely never doubt?Your husband's word, and on your wedding-day??Small wonder you'd be duberous of mine.?But Jim's not my sort; he's an honest lad;?And he'll speak truly. If he denies the bairn ...
PHOEBE:?I've not been used to doubting people's word.?My father's daughter couldn't but be trustful?Of what men said; for he was truth itself.?If only he'd lived, I mightn't ...
JUDITH:
If Jim denies ...
PHOEBE:?If Jim can look me in the eyes, and swear ...
JUDITH:?Come, set her mind at ease. Don't spare me, Jim;?But look her in the eyes, and tell her all;?For she's your wife; and has a right to ken?The bairn's no bairn of yours. Come, lad, speak out;?And don't stand gaping. You ken as well as I?The bairn ... Speak! Speak! Have you no tongue at all?
(_She pauses; but JIM hesitates to speak._)
Don't think of me. You've naught to fear from me.?Tell all you ken of me right out: no word?Of