A shudder ran through her. But she recovered herself and went on, still gazing intently at Tressady, her gaunt hand raised as though for attention.
"An they braat him in, an they laid him on that settle"—she pointed to the bench by the fire—"an the doctors didn't interfere—there wor nowt to do—they left me alone wi un. But he come to, a minute after they laid im down—an I ses, 'Jamie, ow did it appen' an he ses, 'Mother, it wor John Burgess—ee opened my lamp for to light hissen as had gone out—an I don't know no more.' An then after a bit he ses, 'Mother, don't you fret—I'm glad I'm goin—I'd got the drink in me,' he ses. An then he give two three little breaths, as though he wor pantin—an I kiss him."
She stopped, her face working, her trembling hands pressed hard against each other on her knee. Letty felt the tears leap to her eyes in a rush that startled herself.
"An he would a bin twenty-one year old, come next August—an allus a lad as yer couldn't help gettin fond on—not sen he were a little un. An when he wor layin there, I ses to myself, 'He's the third as the coal-gettin ha took from me.' An I minded my feyther an uncle—how they was braat home both togither, when I wor nobbut thirteen years old—not a scar on em, nobbut a little blood on my feyther's forehead—but stone dead, both on em—from the afterdamp. Theer was thirty-six men killed in that explosion—an I recolleck how old Mr. Morrison—Mr. Walter's father—sent the coffins round—an how the men went on because they warn't good ones. Not a man would go down the pit till they was changed—if a man got the life choked out of im, they thowt the least the masters could do was to give un a dacent coffin to lie in. But theer—nobody helped me wi Jamie—I buried him mysel—an it wor all o the best."
She dried her eyes again, sighing plaintively. George said what kind and consoling things he could think of. Mary Batchelor put up her hand and touched him on the arm as he leant over her.
"Aye, I knew yo'd be sorry—an yor wife—"
She turned feebly towards Letty, trying with her blurred and tear-dimmed sight to make out what Sir George's bride might be like. She looked for a moment at the small, elegant person in the corner,—at the sheaf of nodding rosebuds on the hat—the bracelets—the pink cheeks under the dainty veil,—looked with a curious aloofness, as though from a great distance. Then, evidently, another thought struck her like a lash. She ceased to see or think of Letty. Her grip tightened on George's arm.
"An I'm allus thinkin," she said, with a passionate sob, "of that what he said about the drink. He'd allus bin a sober lad, till this lasst winter it did seem as though he cudna keep hiself from it—it kep creepin on im—an several times lately he'd broke out very bad, pay-days—an he knew I'd been frettin. And who was ter blame—I ast yo, or onybody—who was it ter blame?"
Her voice rose to a kind of cry.
"His feyther died ov it, and his grandfeyther afore that. His grandfeyther wor found dead i the roadside, after they'd made him blind-drunk at owd Morse's public-house, where the butty wor reckonin with im an his mates. But he'd never ha gone near the drink if they'd hadn't druv him to't, for he wasn't inclined that way. But the butty as gave him work kep the public, an if yer didn't drink, yer didn't get no work. You must drink yoursel sick o Saturdays, or theer'd be no work for you o Mondays. 'Noa, yer can sit at ome,' they'd say to un, 'ef yer so damned pertickler.' I ast yor pardon, sir, for the bad word, but that's ow they'd say it. I've often heerd owd John say as he'd a been glad to ha given the butty back a shillin ov is pay to be let off the drink. An Willum, that's my usband, he wor allus at it too—an the doctor towd me one day, as Willum lay a-dyin, as it ran in the blood—an Jamie heard im—I know he did—for I fouu im on the stairs—listenin."