Esther Waters

by George Moore

"You might take three yards, Esther; if anything should happen to yer bairn it will always come in useful. And you had better take three yards of flannel. How much is yer flannel?"

"We have some excellent flannel," said the woman, lifting down a long, heavy package in dull yellow paper; "this is ten-pence a yard. You will want a finer longcloth for the little shirts."

And every afternoon Esther sat in the parlour by the window, seeing, when she raised her eyes from the sewing, the low brick street full of children, and hearing the working women calling from the open doors or windows; and as she worked at the baby clothes, never perhaps to be worn, her heart sank at the long prospect that awaited her, the end of which she could not see, for it seemed to reach to the very end of her life. In these hours she realised in some measure the duties that life held in store, and it seemed to her that they exceeded her strength. Never would she be able to bring him up—he would have no one to look to but her. She never imagined other than that her child would be a boy. The task was clearly more than she could perform, and in despair she thought it would be better for it to die. What would happen if she remained out of a situation? Her father would not have her at home, that she knew well enough. What should she do, and the life of another depending on her? She would never see William again—that was certain. He had married a lady, and, were they to meet, he would not look at her. Her temper grew hot, and the memory of the injustice of which she had been a victim pressed upon her. But when vain anger passed away she thought of her baby, anticipating the joy she would experience when he held out tiny hands to her, and that, too, which she would feel when he laid an innocent cheek to hers; and her dream persisting, she saw him learning a trade, going to work in the morning and coming back to her in the evening, proud in the accomplishment of something done, of good money honestly earned.

She thought a great deal, too, of her poor mother, who was looking strangely weak and poorly, and whose condition was rendered worse by her nervous fears that she would not get through this confinement. For the doctor had told Mrs. Saunders that the next time it might go hard with her; and in this house, her husband growing more reckless and drunken, it was altogether a bad look-out, and she might die for want of a little nourishment or a little care. Unfortunately they would both be down at the same time, and it was almost impossible that Esther should be well in time to look after her mother. That brute! It was wrong to think of her father so, but he seemed to be without mercy for any of them. He had come in yesterday half-boozed, having kept back part of his money—he had come in tramping and hiccuping.

"Now, then, old girl, out with it! I must have a few halfpence; my chaps is waiting for me, and I can't be looking down their mouths with nothing in my pockets."

"I only have a few halfpence to get the children a bit of dinner; if I give them to you they'll have nothing to eat."

"Oh, the children can eat anything; I want beer. If yer 'aven't money, make it."

Mrs. Saunders said that if he had any spare clothes she would take them round the corner. He only answered—

"Well, if I 'aven't a spare waistcoat left just take some of yer own things. I tell yer I want beer, and I mean to have some."

Then, with his fist raised, he came at his poor wife, ordering her to take one of the sheets from the bed and "make money," and would have struck her if Esther had not come between them and, with her hand in her pocket, said, "Be quiet, father; I'll give you the money you want."