"Ay, ay, John, 'at's true, and thou'st been paatient and forbearin' wi' me, and wi' God's help, aw'll mak' thee a better woife in t' future, and mebbe when thou see'st what religion's done for me, thou'lt tak' thy waay wi' me oop to yond little room," hopefully replied Sarah.
Well might John Ibbetson pursue his way as in a dream, with such a new experience of domestic comfort to engage his thoughts; yet, reaching the farm on which he worked, he drew a deep sigh as he turned to his ploughing, and muttered: "Ay, it proomises fair, but t' lass'll never hoold oot aw'm feared."
"Lad," said his wife, as they sat at tea before the shining grate; "thou'lt not saay aught agaainst me gooin' to t' meetin' to-noight; aw'm but weeak, and t' seaght o' t' happy faaces oop yonder'll do me a power o' good; aw'll settle doon to spend t'neaghts wi' thee, if thou wilt, by and bye."
"Go where thou wilt, and welcoom, lass, if 'twill help thee to keeap from t' alehouse," replied John, too wise to utter the surprise that nearly overwhelmed him on hearing his hitherto unmanageable wife appeal to him for permission to spend the evening away from her home, the claims of which had been so completely disregarded by her in the past.
As the weeks went by John's fears respecting his wife's steadfastness seemed likely to be unrealised; for, under the inspiration of her new life, the home, her children, and herself underwent a thorough reformation, and her husband began to breathe freely as he marked the visible signs of the change in his wife's heart. But many a wise head was significantly shaken, and many a sage tongue whispered: "Bide a while, and ye'll see it 'll all end i' smooke; Saarah Ann Ibbetson's looved her coops too weel to gi'e un oop in sooch a hurry."
It was Sunday evening, and Mrs. Ibbetson was seated beside her fireside, spelling out with great pains the last part of the chapter which had been read before the sermon at chapel that night. It was the ninth chapter of St. Mark's Gospel, and she had commenced at the thirtieth verse, but had not found the passage which had troubled and surprised her whilst hearing it read; but travelling down the verses with her forefinger pointing to each line, lest her eye, unaccustomed to the task, should mislead her, and some of the sacred words be passed over unread, at last she reached the forty-third verse.
"It's un!" she triumphantly exclaimed.
"Eh, but it's a haard un!" was her verdict when she had finished it; "Aw 'll raad un agaain;" and she read: "And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched."
She put the Bible away, and gazing into the fire, mused aloud: "Aw'm daazed aboot yond text; aw never heeard loike on't; but aw'm thinkin' it's only fair; if t' reet hand offeends cut un off, and serve un reet too. T' blessed Looard, He knows all about it, He does, and He'd raather see His childer waalk inter t' glory wi' one hand than know they'd gone doon inter yond daarkness wi' their two seenful hands ter burn ter all 'ternity; ay, it's plaain enoogh for a poor eegnorant lass loike mysen to get un," and having settled the difficult question to her own satisfaction, without the aid of commentators, Sarah Ann rose and bustled about getting her husband's supper.
John Ibbetson was hurrying home one night shortly after the above occurrences pleasantly anticipating the now usual sight of a clean hearth, a waiting supper, and a welcoming wife; but pushing open the door he found the room in total darkness, and on striking a light he saw it was unoccupied.