“She ailed nowt afore ’at aw e’er saw,” averred Billy stoutly.
“She’s as happy as the day’s long,” I went on. “She’d but a dark childhood and maidenhood. But now the clouds have passed from her young life and her nature opens and blooms and is fragrant with sweet perfume like a rose under the summer sun. Ah! Billy, ’t would do your heart good to see the glad light in her eyes and hear the glad song of her as she goes about her work. I’m not going to darken her days for her by filling her mind with bogeys. Besides, again, what could we do?”
“Aw’n thowt o’ that,” said that daft man curtly. “Don yo’ think aw’n ta’en trouble to come here just to fley yo’? That’s noan my way. Aw tell yo’ aw’m as sewer as ivver aw were o’ owt ’at one road or other Ephraim ’ll try to get howd o’ Miriam, an’ if once oo gets into his clutches when th’ drink’s in him an’ all his evil passions burnin’ hot as hell flames, don yo’ think it likely oo’ll escape wi’out hurt? Does a moth go through th’ flame o’ th’ candle wi’out scorchin’ its wings? And yo’ sit theer an’ talk about law an’ its ministers, meanin’ th’ constables, aw suppose. What gooid will other law or Gospel be when th’ mischief’s done. Yo’ may piecen a cracked pot together, but th’ crack’s theer all th’ same. Aw’m noan what yo’ ca’ a pertickler sort o’ man. Burnplatts is noan exac’ly th’ spot for rearin’ saints. But aw tell yo’ this, Abel Holmes, aw love yon lass more nor ivver aw thowt it i’ mi natur’ to love any human being. Aw’n seen her come up sin’ oo began to lisp mi name. Aw’n borne her i’ these arms o’er mony a mile o’ crag an’ fell; her little arms han clung raand mi neck; her little lips han kissed mine; her little head, wi’ its clusters o’ ringlets, has pillowed itsen agen this hard owd heart o’ mine, and aw tell thee, man, if Ephraim Sykes, or onny other man ’at wronged that maid were at th’ bottom o’ Satan’s pit, aw’d lope in an’ glut missen wi’ th’ awfullest vengeance ’at a legion o’ devils could devise.”
I gazed with a horrid fascination on Daft Billy’s face as he uttered these words in a very torrent or whirlwind of speech. The man was wholly stirred from his wonted stolid demeanour. Hitherto I had known him as a morose, silent, phlegmatic being whom, to all seeming, nothing short of an earthquake or an electric battery could move. Well, I suppose the thoughts of danger to Miriam that his silent broodings had conjured up were the convulsion that had fired his passion and loosed his tongue. We ordinary folk are so begirt by law and order and convention that we forget the elemental forces and little realise the heights and depths to which human nature can soar or fall when law and order and convention are swept away as I have seen the dam walls swept away by the waters of a swollen, raging stream. I sat in silence till such time as Billy should recover himself, and then asked quietly, and as if unconcernedly:
“And your plan, Billy—what is it?”
“Weel,” said our visitor, lapsing into his accustomed taciturnity, “weel, aw’m come here to pick a quarrel wi’ yo’ or you long-legged peartner o’ yourn, or both on yo’.”
“To pick a quarrel! Why, whatever have we done wrong to you to quarrel about?”
“That’s nother here nor theer. We mun fa’ out about owt or nowt. An’ yo’ mun beat me wi’ a pickin’ rod till aw’m black an’ blue, or drag me through th’ mill dam, or put me into th’ sizin’ tub, or do owt yo’ like ’at ’ll leave a mark on me ’at aw can show at th’ ‘Moorcock.’ Then aw off to Ephraim an’ mak’ it out ’at aw’ll ha’ yo’r lives to pay yo aat. Yo’ see, if Eph. thinks aw’m on his side he’ll happen oppen aat to me more nor he has done, an’ forewarned’s forearmed. If we nobbut knew aforehand what he’s up to we can tak’ steps accordingly. But th’ main thing is to mak’ him believe aw’m just as set agen yo’ as he is hissen. Aw think it’ll have to be th’ mill dam. What sayn yo’?”
“Well, I for one am not going to beat you black and blue, nor yet drag you through the mill dam. But I quite think it will do no harm for you to make Ephraim and his new mates think we’re on bad terms. So be off these premises”—this with a very menacing tone “be off these premises, you idle, skulking blackguard. Get you out of sight of honest men and go to the scum you’re fit for, or I’ll souse you over head in th’ sizing tub.”
Daft Billy rose hurriedly to his feet, raised one arm as to ward off a blow, clenched his right fist ready for a fray, and eyed me with mingled amaze and indignation. Then a broad grin spread across his features, and he slowly winked first one eye, then the other: