第57章 CHAPTER XVII WHAT IS A STRIKE? (3)

     
     
     
     　　and now her voice took a mournful, pleading tone, \"at times o\" strikethere\"s much to knock a man down, for all they start so hopefully; andwhere\"s the comfort to come fro\"? He\"ll get angry and mad--they all do-andthen they get tired out wi\" being angry and mad, and maybe ha\"
     
     　　done things in their passion they\"d be glad to forget. Bless yo\"r sweetpitiful face! but yo\" dunnot know what a strike is yet.\"
     
     　　\"Come, Bessy,\" said Margaret, \"I won\"t say you\"re exaggerating, becauseI don\"t know enough about it: but, perhaps, as you\"re not well, you\"reonly looking on one side, and there is another and a brighter to belooked to.\"
     
     　　\"It\"s all well enough for yo\" to say so, who have lived in pleasant greenplaces all your life long, and never known want or care, or wickednesseither, for that matter.\"
     
     　　\"Take care,\" said Margaret, her cheek flushing, and her eye lightening,\"how you judge, Bessy. I shall go home to my mother, who is so ill--soill, Bessy, that there\"s no outlet but death for her out of the prison of hergreat suffering; and yet I must speak cheerfully to my father, who hasno notion of her real state, and to whom the knowledge must comegradually. The only person--the only one who could sympathise withme and help me--whose presence could comfort my mother more thanany other earthly thing--is falsely accused--would run the risk of deathif he came to see his dying mother. This I tell you--only you, Bessy.
     
     　　You must not mention it. No other person in Milton--hardly any otherperson in England knows. Have I not care? Do I not know anxiety,though I go about well-dressed, and have food enough? Oh, Bessy, Godis just, and our lots are well portioned out by Him, although none butHe knows the bitterness of our souls.\"
     
     　　\"I ask your pardon,\" replied Bessy, humbly. \"Sometimes, when I\"vethought o\" my life, and the little pleasure I\"ve had in it, I\"ve believedthat, maybe, I was one of those doomed to die by the falling of a starfrom heaven; \"And the name of the star is called Wormwood;\" and thethird part of the waters became wormwood; and men died of the waters,because they were made bitter.\" One can bear pain and sorrow better ifone thinks it has been prophesied long before for one: somehow, then itseems as if my pain was needed for the fulfilment; otherways it seemsall sent for nothing.\"
     
     　　\"Nay, Bessy--think!\" said Margaret. \"God does not willingly afflict. Don\"tdwell so much on the prophecies, but read the clearer parts of the Bible.\"
     
     　　\"I dare say it would be wiser; but where would I hear such grand wordsof promise--hear tell o\" anything so far different fro\" this dreary world,and this town above a\", as in Revelations? Many\"s the time I\"ve repeatedthe verses in the seventh chapter to myself, just for the sound. It\"s asgood as an organ, and as different from every day, too. No, I cannotgive up Revelations. It gives me more comfort than any other book i\"
     
     　　the Bible.\"
     
     　　\"Let me come and read you some of my favourite chapters.\"
     
     　　\"Ay,\" said she, greedily, \"come. Father will maybe hear yo\". He\"s deavedwi\" my talking; he says it\"s all nought to do with the things o\" to-day,and that\"s his business.\"
     
     　　\"Where is your sister?\"
     
     　　\"Gone fustian-cutting. I were loth to let her go; but somehow we mustlive; and th\" Union can\"t afford us much.\"
     
     　　\"Now I must go. You have done me good, Bessy.\"
     
     　　\"I done you good!\"
     
     　　\"Yes. I came here very sad, and rather too apt to think my own cause forgrief was the only one in the world. And now I hear how you have had
     
     　　to bear for years, and that makes me stronger.\"
     
     　　\"Bless yo\"! I thought a\" the good-doing was on the side of gentle folk. Ishall get proud if I think I can do good to yo\".\"
     
     　　\"You won\"t do it if you think about it. But you\"ll only puzzle yourself ifyou do, that\"s one comfort.\"
     
     　　\"Yo\"re not like no one I ever seed. I dunno what to make of yo\".\"
     
     　　\"Nor I of myself. Good-bye!\"
     
     　　Bessy stilled her rocking to gaze after her.
     
     　　\"I wonder if there are many folk like her down South. She\"s like a breathof country air, somehow. She freshens me up above a bit. Who\"d ha\"
     
     　　thought that face--as bright and as strong as the angel I dream of--couldhave known the sorrow she speaks on? I wonder how she\"ll sin. All onus must sin. I think a deal on her, for sure. But father does the like, Isee. And Mary even. It\"s not often hoo\"s stirred up to notice much.\"