Ay ... I was born to take my luck.
But I must go.
Judith:
You’ll not wait for them?
Bell:
Nay:
I’m dead to them: I’ve bid good-bye to them
Till doomsday: and I’m through with Krindlesyke,
This time, I hope—though you can never tell.
I hadn’t ettled to darken the door again;
Yet here I am: and even now the walls
Seem closing ... It would be the queerest start
If, after all ... But, dod, I’ve got the dismals,
And no mistake! I’m in the dowie dumps—
Maundering and moonging like a spancelled cow:
It’s over dour and dearn for me in this loaning
On a dowly day. Best pull myself together,
And put my best foot foremost before darkening:
And I’ve no mind to meet them in the road.
So long!
(She goes out of the door and makes down the syke.)
Judith:
Good-bye! If you’d only bide a while ...
Come back! You mustn’t go like that ... Bell, Bell!
(She breaks off, as Bell Haggard is already out of hearing, and stands watching her till she is out of sight; then turns, closing the door, and sinks into a chair in an abstracted fashion. She takes up her knitting mechanically, but sits, motionless, brooding by the fire.)
Judith: