Stephen Archer and Other Tales by George MacDonald (best novels for students txt) 📖

my conscience.

Mrs. C. Your conscience indeed! ( rising ). I wish you a good morning, Miss Pearson.-( Sound of a blow, followed by scuffling .)-What is that? I fear I have got into an improper place.

SUSAN bursts in .

Sus . Yes, ma'am, and that you have! It's a wery improper place for the likes o' you, ma'am-as believes all sorts o' wicked things of people as is poor. Who are you to bring your low flunkies a-listenin' at honest girls' doors! ( Turning to James in the doorway .) Get out, will you? Let me catch you here again, and I'll mark you that the devil wouldn't know his own! You dirty Paul Pry-you! ( Falls on her knees to Mattie .) Mattie, you angel!

Mat . ( trying to make her get up ) Never mind. It's all right between you and me, Susan.

Mrs. C. I see! I thought as much!

Sus . ( starting up ) As much as what, then, my lady? Oh, I know you and your sort-well enough! We're the dirt under your feet-lucky if we stick to your shoes! But this room's mine.

Mrs. C. That linen was mine, young woman, I believe.

Sus . An' it's for that miserable parcel you come a-talkin', an' abusin' as no lady ought to! How dare you look that angel in the face there an' say she stole it-which you're not fit to lace her boots for her! There!

Mat . Susan! Susan! do be quiet.

Sus . It's all very well for the likes o' me ( courtesying spitefully )-which I'm no better'n I should be, and a great deal worse, if I'm on my oath to your ladyship-that's neither here nor there!-but
she's better'n a van-load o' sich ladies as you, pryin' into other people's houses, with yer bibles, an' yer religion, an' yer flunkies!
I know ye! I do !

Mat . Don't, Susan.

Sus . Why don't ye go an' pay twopence a week to somebody to learn ye good manners? I been better brought up myself.

Mrs. C. I see I was wrong: I ought at once to have handed the matter over to the police.

Sus . The perlice, indeed!-You get out of this, ma'am, or I'll make you!-you and your cowardly man-pup there, as is afraid to look me in the face through the crack o' the door! Get out, I say, with your- insolence -that's your word!

Exit MRS. CLIFFORD.

Mat . Susan! Susan! what is to become of us?

Sus . She daren't do it-the old scrooge! But just let her try it on! See if I don't show her up afore the magistrate! Mattie! I'll work ray fingers to the bone for you. I would do worse, only you won't let me. I'll go to the court, and tell the magistrate you're a-dyin' of hunger, which it's as true as gospel.

Mat . They'd send me to the workhouse, Sukey.

Sus . There must be some good people somewheres, Mattie.

Mat . Yes; if we could get at them. But we can live till we die, Sukey.

Sus . I'll go and list for a soldier, I will. Women ha' done it afore. It's quite respectable, so long as they don't find you out-and they shouldn't me. There's ne'er a one o' the redcoats 'ill cut up rougher 'n I shall-barrin' the beard, and that don't go for much now-a-days.

Mat . And what should I do without you, Susan?

Sus . Do you care to have me, then?

Mat . That I do, indeed. But you shouldn't have talked like that to Mrs. Clifford. Ladies ain't used to such words. They sound worse than they are-quite dreadful, to them. She don't know your kind heart as I do. Besides, the look of things is against us. Ain't it now? Say yourself.

Sus . ( starting up ) I'll go and beg her pardon. I'll go direckly-I will. I swear I will. I can't abear her, but I'll do it. I believe hunger has nigh drove me mad.

Mat . It takes all the madness out of me.-No, Susan; we must bear it now. Come along. We can be miserable just as well working. There's your sleeve. I'll thread your needle for you. Don't cry-there's a dear!

Sus . I will cry. It's all I ever could do to my own mind, and it's all as is left me. But if I could get my claws on that lovyer o' yours, I wouldn't cry then. He's at the bottom of it! I don't see myself what's the use of fallin' in love. One man's as much of a fool as another to me. But you must go to bed. You ain't fit. You'll be easier when you've got your frock off. There! Why, child, you're all of a tremble!-And no wonder, wi' nothing on her blessed body but her frock and her shimmy!

Mat . Don't take off my frock, Sue. I must get on with my work.

Sus . Lie down a bit, anyhow. I'll lie at your back, and you'll soon be as warm's a toast. (MAT. lies down .) O Lord! she's dead! Her heart's stopped beatin'. ( Runs out of the room .)

A moment of silence. A tap at the door .

CONSTANCE peeps in, then enters, with a basket .

Con . Miss Pearson!-She's asleep. ( Goes near .) Good heavens! ( Lays her hand on her .) No. ( Takes a bottle from her basket, finds a cup, and pours into it .) Take this, Miss Pearson; it will do you good. There now! You'll find something else in the basket.

Mat . I don't want anything. I had so nearly got away! Why did you bring me back?

Con . Life is good!

Mat . It is not good. How dare you do it? Why keep a miserable creature alive? Life ain't to us what it is to you. The grave is the only place we have any right to.

Con . If I could make your life worth something to you-

Mat . You make my life worth to me! You don't know what you're saying, miss. ( Sitting up .)

Con . I think I do.

Mat . I will not owe my life to you. I could love you, though-your hands are so white, and your look so brave. That's what comes of being born a lady. We never have a chance.

Con . Miss Pearson-Mattie, I would call you, if you wouldn't be offended-

Mat . Me offended, miss!-I've not got life enough for it. I only want my father and my mother, and a long sleep.-If I had been born rich-

Con . You might have been miserable all the same. Listen, Mattie. I will tell you my story-I was once as badly off as you-worse in some ways-ran about the streets without shoes to my feet, and hardly a frock to cover me.

Mat . La, miss! you don't say so! It's not possible! Look at you!

Con . Indeed, I tell you the truth. I know what hunger is too-well enough. My father was a silkweaver in Spitalfields. When he died, I didn't know where to go. But a gentleman-

Mat . Oh! a gentleman!-( Fiercely .) Why couldn't you be content with
one , then?

Con . I don't understand you.

Mat . I dare say not! There! take your basket. I'll die afore a morsel passes my lips. There! Go away, miss.

Con . ( aside ). Poor girl! she is delirious. I must ask William to fetch a doctor. Exit .

Mat . I wish my hands were as white as hers.

Enter SUSAN, followed by COL. G. CONSTANCE behind .

Sus . Mattie! dear Mattie! this gentleman-don't be vexed-I couldn't help him bein' a gentleman; I was cryin' that bad, and I didn't see no one come up to me, and when he spoke to me, it made me jump, and I couldn't help answerin' of him-he spoke so civil and soft like, and me nigh mad! I thought you was dead, Mattie. He says he'll see us righted, Mattie.

Col. G. I'll do what I can, if you will tell me what's amiss.

Sus . Oh, everything's amiss-everything!-Who was that went out, Mattie-this minute-as we come in?

Mat . Miss Lacordere.

Sus . Her imperence! Well! I should die of shame if I was her.

Mat . She's an angel, Susan. There's her basket. I told her to take it away, but she would leave it.

Sus . ( peeping into the basket ). Oh, my! Ain't this nice? You
must have a bit, Mattie.

Mat . Not one mouthful. You wouldn't have me, Susan!

Sus . I ain't so peticlar ( eating a great mouthful ). You really must, Mattie. ( Goes on eating .)

Col. G. Don't tease her. We'll get something for her presently. And don't you eat too much-all at once.

Sus . I think she'd like a chop, sir.-There's that boy, Bill, again!-Always when he ain't wanted!

Enter BILL.

Bill ( aside to Susan ). What's the row? What's that 'ere gent up to? I've been an' had enough o' gents. They're a bad lot. I been too much for one on 'em, though. I ha' run him down.-And, Mattie, I've found the old gen'leman.

Mat . My father, Bill?

Bill . That's it percisely! Right as a trivet-he is!

Mat . Susan! take hold of me. My heart's going again.

Bill . Lord! what's up wi' Mattie? She do look dreadful.

Sus . You been an' upset her, you clumsy boy! Here-run and fetch a sausage or two, and a-

Col. G. No, no! That will never do.

Sus . Them's for Bill and me, sir. I was a goin' on, sir.-And, Bill, a chop-a nice chop. But Lord! how are we to cook it, with never a fryin'-pan, or a bit o' fire to set it on!

Col. G. You'd never think of doing a chop for an invalid in the frying-pan?

Sus . Certainly not, sir-we 'ain't got one. Everything's up the spout an' over the top. Run, Bill. A bit of cold chicken, and two pints o' bottled stout. There's the money the gen'leman give me.-'T 'ain't no Miss Lackodare's, Mattie.

Bill . I'll trouble no gen'leman to perwide for my family-obleeged all the same, sir. Mattie never wos a dub at dewourin', but I'll get her some'at toothsome. I favours grub myself.

Col. G. I'll