Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 71

HARRY. Dorry? I han't heard tell of she.

MAY. That's my little baby as was, Harry Moss. I left she crawling on the floor, and now I count as she be growed into a rare big girl.

Bless the innocent heart of her!

HARRY. Whatever led you to do such a thing, I can't think! You must have been drove to it like, wasn't you?

MAY. 'Twas summat inside of me as drove I, then. 'Twas very likely the blood of they gipsies which did leap in I, so that when I was tied up to Steve, 'twas as if they had got I shut in a box. 'Twas the bridle on my head and the bit in the mouth of I; and to be held in where once I had gone free. [A short pause.

MAY. And I turned wild, Harry, for the very birds seemed to be calling I from the hedges to come out along of they, and the berries tossing in the wind, and the leaves blowing away quick from where they'd been stuck all summer. All of it spoke to I, and stirred I powerful, so that one morning when the sun was up and the breeze running, I comed out into the air, Harry, and shut the door behind I.

And 'twas done--so 'twas.

HARRY. And didn't they never try for to stop you, nor for to bring you back, May?

MAY. No, Harry, they did not.

HARRY. And where was it you did go to, May, once you was out and the door shut ahind of you?

MAY. Ah--where! To the east, to the south, every part. 'Twas morning with I in that time, and the heart of I was warm. And them as went along of I on the road, did cast but one look into the countenance of I. Then 'twas the best as they could give as I might take; and 'twas for no lodging as I did want when dark did come falling.

HARRY. And yet, look you here, you be brought down terrible low, May.

MAY. The fine looks of a woman be as gra.s.s, Harry, and in the heat of the day they do wither and die. And that what has once been a grand flower in the hand of a man is dropped upon the ground and spat upon, maybe. So 'twas with I.

[She bows her head on her knees, and for a moment is shaken with sudden grief.

HARRY. Don't you take on so, May. Look you here, you be comed to the end of your journeying this day, and that you be.

MAY. [Raising her head.] Ah, 'tis so, 'tis so. And 'tis rare glad as them'll be to see I once again. Steve, he's a hard man, but a good one--And I'll tell you this, Harry Moss, he'll never take up with no woman what's not me--and that he won't--I never knowed him much as look on one, times past; and 'twill be the same as ever now, I reckon. And little Dorry, 'twill be fine for her to get her mammy back, I warrant--so 'twill.

[A slight pause.

MAY. Th' old woman--well--I shan't take it amiss if her should be dead, like. Her was always a smartish old vixen to I, that her was, and her did rub it in powerful hard as Steve was above I in his station and that. G.o.d rest the bones of she, for I count her'll have been lying in the churchyard a good few years by now. But I bain't one to bear malice, and if so be as her's above ground, 'tis a rare poor old wretch with no poison to the tongue of she, as her'll be this day--so 'tis.

HARRY. Look you here--the snow's begun to fall and 'tis night. Get up and go in to them all yonder. 'Tis thick dark now and there be no one on the road to see you as you do go.

MAY. Help I to get off the ground then, Harry, for the limbs of me be powerful weak.

HARRY. [Lifting her up.] The feel of your body be as burning wood, May.

MAY. [Standing up.] Put me against the stile, Harry, and then let I bide alone.

HARRY. Do you let me go over the field along of you, May, just to the door.

MAY. No, no, Harry, get you off to the town and leave me to bide here a while in the quiet of my thoughts. 'Tis of little Dorry, and of how pleased her'll be to see her mammy once again, as I be thinking. But you, Harry Moss, as han't got no home to go to, nor fireside, nor victuals, you set off towards the town. And go you quick.

HARRY. There's summat in me what doesn't care about leaving you so, May.

MAY. And if ever you should pa.s.s this way come spring-time, Harry, when the bloom is white on the trees, and the lambs in the meadows, come you up to the house yonder, and may be as I'll be able to give you summat to keep in remembrance of me. For to-day, 'tis empty- handed as I be.

HARRY. I don't want nothing from you, May, I don't.

MAY. [Fumbling in her shawl.] There, Harry--'tis comed back to my mind now. [She takes out part of a loaf of bread.] Take you this bread. And to-night, when you eats of it, think on me, and as how I be to home with Steve a-holding of my hand and little Dorry close against me; and plenty of good victuals, with a bed to lie upon warm.

There, Harry, take and eat.

[She holds the bread to him

HARRY. [Taking the bread.] I count 'twill all be well with you now, May?

MAY. I warrant as 'twill, for I be right to home. But go you towards the town, Harry, for 'tis late. And G.o.d go with you, my dear, now and all time.

HARRY. I'll set off running then. For the night, 'tis upon us, May, and the snow, 'tis thick in the air.

[MAY turns to the stile and leans on it heavily, gazing across the field. HARRY sets off quickly down the road.

ACT II.--Scene 1.

The living room in the Brownings' cottage. The room is divided by a curtain which screens the fireside end from the draught of the princ.i.p.al door.

To the right of the fireplace is a door leading upstairs. Chairs are grouped round the hearth, and there is a table at which JANE BROWNING is ironing a dress by the light of one candle. DORRY leans against the table, watching her.

JANE. [Putting aside the iron.] There, you take and lay it on the bed upstairs, and mind you does it careful, for I'm not a-going to iron it twice.

[She lays the dress carefully across DORRY'S arms.

DORRY. Don't the lace look nice, Gran'ma?

JANE. You get along upstairs and do as I says, and then come straight down again.

DORRY. Couldn't I put it on once, Gran'ma, just to see how it do look on me?

JANE. And get it all creased up afore to-morrow! Whatever next!

You go and lay it on the bed this minute, do you hear?

DORRY. [Leaving the room by the door to the right.] I'd like to put it on just once, I would.

[JANE BROWNING blows out the candle and puts away the iron and ironing cloth. She stirs up the fire and then sits down by it as DORRY comes back.

DORRY. Dad's cleaning of himself ever so--I heard the water splas.h.i.+ng something dreadful as I went by his door.

JANE. 'Tis a-smartening of hisself up for this here dancing as he be about, I reckon.

DORRY. [Sitting down on a stool.] I'd like to go along, too, and see the dancing up at the schools to-night, I would.

JANE. And what next, I should like to know!