Surly Tim A Lancashire Story | Page 4

She wur so quiet

an' steady, an' when she said owt she meant it, an' she never said too
much or too little. Her brown eyes alius minded me o' my mother,
though th' old woman deed when I were nobbut a little chap, but I
never seed 'Sanna Brent smile th'out thinkin' o' how my mother looked
when I wur kneelin' down sayin' my prayers after her. An' bein' as th'
lass wur so dear to me, I made up my mind to ax her to be summat
dearer. So once goin' home along wi' her, I takes hold o' her hand an'
lifts it up an' kisses it gentle--as gentle an' wi' summat th' same feelin'
as I'd kiss th' Good Book.
"''Sanna,' I says, 'bein' as yo've had so much trouble wi' yo're first
chance, would yo' be afeard to try a second? Could yo' trust a mon
again? Such a mon as me, 'Sanna?'
"'I wouldna be feart to trust thee, Tim,' she answers back soft an' gentle
after a manner. 'I wouldna be feart to trust thee any time.'
"I kisses her hand again, gentler still.
"'God bless thee, lass,' I says. 'Does that mean yes?'
"She crept up closer to me i' her sweet, quiet way.
"'Aye, lad,' she answers. 'It means yes, an' I'll bide by it.'
"'An' tha shalt never rue it, lass,' said I 'Tha's gi'en thy life to me, an' I'll
gi' mine to thee, sure and true.'
"So we wur axed i' th' church th' next Sunday, an' a month fro then we
wur wed, an' if ever God's sun shone on a happy mon, it shone on one
that day, when we come out o' church together--me and Rosanna--an'
went to our bit o' a home to begin life again. I coujdna tell thee,
Mester--theer beant no words to tell how happy an' peaceful we lived
fur two year after that. My lass never altered her sweet ways, an' I just
loved her to make up to her fur what had gone by. I thanked
God-a'-moighty fur his blessing every day, and every day I prayed to be
made worthy of it. An' here's just wheer I'd like to ax a question,
Mester, about sum m at 'ats worretted me a good deal. I dunnot want to

question th' Maker, but I would loike to know how it is 'at sometime it
seems 'at we're clean forgot--as if He couldna fash hissen about our
troubles, an' most loike left 'em to work out their-sens. Yo' see, Mester,
an' we aw see sometime He thinks on us an' gi's us a lift, but hasna tha
thysen seen times when tha stopt short an' axed thysen, 'Wheer's
God-a'-moighty 'at he isna straighten things out a bit? Th' world's i' a
power o' a snarl. Th' righteous is forsaken, 'n his seed's beggin' bread.
An' th' devil's topmost agen.' I've talked to my lass about it sometimes,
an' I dunnot think I meant harm, Mester, for I felt humble enough--an'
when I talked, my lass she'd listen an' smile soft an' sorrowful, but she
never gi' me but one answer.
"'Tim,' she'd say, 'this is on'y th' skoo' an we're th' scholars, an' He's
teachin' us his way We munnot be loike th' children o' Israel i' th'
Wilderness, an' turn away fro' th' cross 'cause o' th' Sarpent. We munnot
say, "Theer's a snake:" we mun say, "Theer's th' Cross, an' th' Lord gi' it
to us." Th' teacher wouldna be o' much use, Tim, if th' scholars knew as
much as he did, an' I allus think it's th' best to comfort mysen wi' sayin',
"Th' Lord-a'-moighty, He knows."'
"An' she alius comforted me too when I wur worretted. Life looked
smooth somewhow them three year. Happen th' Lord sent 'em to me to
make up fur what wur comin'.
"At th' eend o' th' first year th' child wur born, th' little lad here,"
touching the turf with his hand, "'Wee Wattie' his mother ca'd him, an'
he wur a fine, lightsome little chap. He filled th' whole house wi' music
day in an' day out, crowin' an' crowin'--an' cryin' too sometime. But if
ever yo're a feyther, Mester, yo'll find out 'at a baby's cry's music often
enough, an' yo'll find, too, if yo' ever lose one, 'at yo'd give all yo'd
getten just to hear even th' worst o' cryin'. Rosanna she couldna find i'
her heart to set th' little un out o' her arms a minnit, an' she'd go about
th' room wi' her eyes aw leeted up, an' her face bloomin' like a slip o' a
girl's, an' if she laid him i' th' cradle her head 'ud be turnt o'er har
shoulder aw th'