“You have had a faint like,” was the answer, “or a fit. It ain’t that you’ve been a-struggling, mother, but you’ve been stiff and numbed.”

“Ah!” said Betty, recovering her memory. “It’s the numbness. Yes. It comes over me at times.”

Was it gone? the women asked her.

“It’s gone now,” said Betty. “I shall be stronger than I was afore. Many thanks to ye, my dears, and when you come to be as old as I am, may others do as much for you!”

They assisted her to rise, but she could not stand yet, and they supported her when she sat down again upon the bench.

“My head’s a bit light, and my feet are a bit heavy,” said old Betty, leaning her face drowsily on the breast of the woman who had spoken before. “They’ll both come nat’ral in a minute. There’s nothing more the matter.”

“Ask her,” said some farmers standing by, who had come out from their market-dinner, “who belongs to her.”

“Are there any folks belonging to you, mother?” said the woman.

“Yes sure,” answered Betty. “I heerd the gentleman say it, but I couldn’t answer quick enough. There’s plenty belonging to me. Don’t ye fear for me, my dear.”

“But are any of ’em near here?” said the men’s voices; the women’s voices chiming in when it was said, and prolonging the strain.

“Quite near enough,” said Betty, rousing herself. “Don’t ye be afeard for me, neighbours.”

“But you are not fit to travel. Where are you going?” was the next compassionate chorus she heard.

“I’m a going to London when I’ve sold out all,” said Betty, rising with difficulty. “I’ve right good friends in London. I want for nothing. I shall come to no harm. Thankye. Don’t ye be afeard for me.”

A well-meaning bystander, yellow-legginged and purple-faced, said hoarsely over his red comforter, as she rose to her feet, that she “oughtn’t to be let to go.”

“For the Lord’s love don’t meddle with me!” cried old Betty, all her fears crowding on her. “I am quite well now, and I must go this minute.”

She caught up her basket as she spoke and was making an unsteady rush away from them, when the same bystander checked her with his hand on her sleeve, and urged her to come with him and see the parish-doctor. Strengthening herself by the utmost exercise of her resolution, the poor trembling creature shook him off, almost fiercely, and took to flight. Nor did she feel safe until she had set a mile or two of by-road between herself and the market-place, and had crept into a copse, like a hunted animal, to hide and recover breath. Not until then for the first time did she venture to recall how she had looked over her shoulder before turning out of the town, and had seen the sign of the White Lion hanging across the road, and the fluttering market booths, and the old grey church, and the little crowd gazing after her but not attempting to follow her.

The second frightening incident was this. She had been again as bad, and had been for some days better, and was travelling along by a part of the road where it touched the river, and in wet seasons was so often overflowed by it that there were tall white posts set up to mark the way. A barge was being towed towards her, and she sat down on the bank to rest and watch it. As the tow-rope was slackened by a turn of the stream and dipped into the water, such a confusion stole into her mind that she thought


  By PanEris using Melati.

Previous chapter/page Back Home Email this Search Discuss Bookmark Next chapter/page
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details.