The Absentee [81]
see you eat another egg.'
'No more, thank you, my good lady; I never ate a better supper, nor received a more hospitable welcome.'
'Oh, the welcome is all we have to offer.'
'May I ask what that is?' said Lord Colambre, looking at the notched stick, which the young woman held in her hand, and on which her eyes were still fixed.
It's a TALLY, plase your honour. Oh, you're a foreigner;--it's the way the labourers do keep the account of the day's work with the overseer, the bailiff; a notch for every day the bailiff makes on his stick, and the labourer the like on his stick, to tally; and when we come to make up the account, it's by the notches we go. And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute here between our boy and the overseer; and she was counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's overworked.'
'Would you want anything more from me, mother?' said the girl, rising and turning her head away.
'No, child; get away, for your heart's full.'
She went instantly.
'Is the boy her brother?' said Lord Colambre.
'No; he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering her voice.
'Her bachelor?'
'That is, her sweetheart: for she is not my daughter, though you heard her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am afeard they must give it up; for they're too poor, and the times is hard, and the agent's harder than the times; there's two of them, the under and the upper; and they grind the substance of one between them, and then blow one away like chaff: but we'll not be talking of that to spoil your honour's night's rest. The room's ready, and here's the rushlight.'
She showed him into a very small but neat room. 'What a comfortable-looking bed!' said Lord Colambre.
'Ah, these red check curtains,' said she, letting them down; 'these have lasted well; they were give me by a good friend, now far away, over the seas--my Lady Clonbrony; and made by the prettiest hands ever you see, her niece's, Miss Grace Nugent's, and she a little child that time; sweet love! all gone!'
The old woman wiped a tear from her eye, and Lord Colambre did what he could to appear indifferent. She set down the candle, and left the room; Lord Colambre went to bed, but he lay awake, 'revolving sweet and bitter thoughts.'
CHAPTER XI
The kettle was on the fire, tea-things set, everything prepared for her guest by the hospitable hostess, who, thinking the gentleman would take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a GOSSOON by the FIRST LIGHT to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, a QUARTER OF SUGAR, and a loaf of white bread; and there was on the little table good cream, milk, butter, eggs--all the promise of an excellent breakfast. It was a FRESH morning, and there was a pleasant fire on the hearth, neatly swept up. The old woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a little skreen of whitewashed wall, built out into the room, for the purpose of keeping those who sat at the fire from the BLAST OF THE DOOR. There was a loophole in this wall, to let the light in, just at the height of a person's head, who was sitting near the chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came through it, shining across the face of the old woman, as she sat knitting; Lord Colambre thought he had seldom seen a more agreeable countenance, intelligent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune.
'A good-morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope you got the night well?--A fine day for us this Sunday morning; my Grace is gone to early prayers, so your honour will be content with an old woman to make your breakfast. Oh, let me put in plenty, or it will never be good; and if your honour takes stir-about, an old hand will engage to make that to your liking, anyway; for, by great happiness, we have what will just answer for you of the nicest meal the miller made my Grace a compliment of, last time she went to the mill.'
Lord Colambre observed, that this miller had good taste; and his lordship paid some compliment to Grace's beauty, which the old woman received with a
'No more, thank you, my good lady; I never ate a better supper, nor received a more hospitable welcome.'
'Oh, the welcome is all we have to offer.'
'May I ask what that is?' said Lord Colambre, looking at the notched stick, which the young woman held in her hand, and on which her eyes were still fixed.
It's a TALLY, plase your honour. Oh, you're a foreigner;--it's the way the labourers do keep the account of the day's work with the overseer, the bailiff; a notch for every day the bailiff makes on his stick, and the labourer the like on his stick, to tally; and when we come to make up the account, it's by the notches we go. And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute here between our boy and the overseer; and she was counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's overworked.'
'Would you want anything more from me, mother?' said the girl, rising and turning her head away.
'No, child; get away, for your heart's full.'
She went instantly.
'Is the boy her brother?' said Lord Colambre.
'No; he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering her voice.
'Her bachelor?'
'That is, her sweetheart: for she is not my daughter, though you heard her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am afeard they must give it up; for they're too poor, and the times is hard, and the agent's harder than the times; there's two of them, the under and the upper; and they grind the substance of one between them, and then blow one away like chaff: but we'll not be talking of that to spoil your honour's night's rest. The room's ready, and here's the rushlight.'
She showed him into a very small but neat room. 'What a comfortable-looking bed!' said Lord Colambre.
'Ah, these red check curtains,' said she, letting them down; 'these have lasted well; they were give me by a good friend, now far away, over the seas--my Lady Clonbrony; and made by the prettiest hands ever you see, her niece's, Miss Grace Nugent's, and she a little child that time; sweet love! all gone!'
The old woman wiped a tear from her eye, and Lord Colambre did what he could to appear indifferent. She set down the candle, and left the room; Lord Colambre went to bed, but he lay awake, 'revolving sweet and bitter thoughts.'
CHAPTER XI
The kettle was on the fire, tea-things set, everything prepared for her guest by the hospitable hostess, who, thinking the gentleman would take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a GOSSOON by the FIRST LIGHT to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, a QUARTER OF SUGAR, and a loaf of white bread; and there was on the little table good cream, milk, butter, eggs--all the promise of an excellent breakfast. It was a FRESH morning, and there was a pleasant fire on the hearth, neatly swept up. The old woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a little skreen of whitewashed wall, built out into the room, for the purpose of keeping those who sat at the fire from the BLAST OF THE DOOR. There was a loophole in this wall, to let the light in, just at the height of a person's head, who was sitting near the chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came through it, shining across the face of the old woman, as she sat knitting; Lord Colambre thought he had seldom seen a more agreeable countenance, intelligent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune.
'A good-morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope you got the night well?--A fine day for us this Sunday morning; my Grace is gone to early prayers, so your honour will be content with an old woman to make your breakfast. Oh, let me put in plenty, or it will never be good; and if your honour takes stir-about, an old hand will engage to make that to your liking, anyway; for, by great happiness, we have what will just answer for you of the nicest meal the miller made my Grace a compliment of, last time she went to the mill.'
Lord Colambre observed, that this miller had good taste; and his lordship paid some compliment to Grace's beauty, which the old woman received with a