The Widow in the Bye Street Part 10

'They'd oughtn't hang a boy': but one said 'Stuff.

This sentimental talk is rotten, rotten.

The law's the law and not half strict enough, Forgers and murderers are misbegotten, Let them be hanged and let them be forgotten.

A rotten fool should have a rotten end; Mend them, you say? The rotten never mend.'

And one 'Not mend? The rotten not, perhaps.

The rotting would; so would the just infected.

A week in quod has ruined lots of chaps Who'd all got good in them till prison wrecked it.'

And one, 'Society must be protected.'

'He's just a kid. She trapped him.' 'No, she didden.'

'He'll be reprieved.' 'He mid be and he midden.'

So the talk went; and Anna took the train, Too sad for tears, and pale; a lady spoke Asking if she were ill or suffering pain?

'Neither,' she said; but sorrow made her choke, 'I'm only sick because my heart is broke.

My friend, a man, my oldest friend here, died.

I had to see the man who killed him, tried.

He's to be hanged. Only a boy. My friend.

I thought him just a boy; I didn't know.

And Ern was killed, and now the boy's to end, And all because he thought he loved me so.'

'My dear,' the lady said; and Anna, 'Oh.

It's very hard to bear the ills men make, He thought he loved, and it was all mistake.'

'My dear,' the lady said; 'you poor, poor woman, Have you no friends to go to?' 'I'm alone.

I've parents living, but they're both inhuman, And none can cure what pierces to the bone.

I'll have to leave and go where I'm not known.

Begin my life again.' Her friend said 'Yes.

Certainly that. But leave me your address: For I might hear of something; I'll enquire, Perhaps the boy might be reprieved or pardoned.

Couldn't we ask the rector or the squire To write and ask the Judge? He can't be hardened.

What do you do? Is it housework? Have you gardened?

Your hands are very white and soft to touch.'

'Lately I've not had heart for doing much.'

So the talk pa.s.ses as the train descends Into the vale and halts and starts to climb To where the apple-bearing country ends And pleasant-pastured hills rise sweet with thyme, Where clinking sheepbells make a broken chime And sunwarm gorses rich the air with scent And kestrels poise for mice, there Anna went.

There, in the April, in the garden-close, One heard her in the morning singing sweet, Calling the birds from the unbudded rose, Offering her lips with grains for them to eat.

The redb.r.e.a.s.t.s come with little wiry feet, Sparrows and t.i.ts and all wild feathery things, Brus.h.i.+ng her lifted face with quivering wings.

Jimmy was taken down into a cell, He did not need a hand, he made no fuss.

The men were kind 'for what the kid done ... well The same might come to any one of us.'

They brought him bits of cake at tea time: thus The love that fas.h.i.+oned all in human ken, Works in the marvellous hearts of simple men.

And in the nights (they watched him night and day) They told him bits of stories through the grating, Of how the game went at the football play, And how the rooks outside had started mating.

And all the time they knew the rope was waiting, And every evening friend would say to friend, 'I hope we've not to drag him at the end.'

And poor old mother came to see her son, 'The Lord has gave,' she said, 'The Lord has took; I loved you very dear, my darling one, And now there's none but G.o.d where we can look.

We've got G.o.d's promise written in His Book, He will not fail; but oh, it do seem hard.'

She hired a room outside the prison yard.

'Where did you get the money for the room?

And how are you living, mother; how'll you live?'

'It's what I'd saved to put me in the tomb, I'll want no tomb but what the parish give.'

'Mother, I lied to you that time, O forgive, I brought home half my wages, half I spent, And you went short that week to pay the rent.

I went to see'r, I spent my money on her, And you who bore me paid the cost in pain.

You went without to buy the clothes upon her: A hat, a locket, and a silver chain.

O mother dear, if all might be again, Only from last October, you and me; O mother dear, how different it would be.

We were so happy in the room together, Singing at "Binger-Bopper," weren't us, just?

And going a-hopping in the summer weather, And all the hedges covered white with dust, And blackberries, and that, and traveller's trust.

I thought her wronged, and true, and sweet, and wise, The devil takes sweet shapes when he tells lies.

Mother, my dear, will you forgive your son?'

'G.o.d knows I do, Jim, I forgive you, dear; You didn't know, and couldn't, what you done.

G.o.d pity all poor people suffering here, And may His mercy s.h.i.+ne upon us clear, And may we have His Holy Word for mark, To lead us to His Kingdom through the dark.'

'Amen.' 'Amen,' said Jimmy; then they kissed.

The warders watched, the little larks were singing, A plough team jangled, turning at the rist; Beyond, the mild cathedral bells were ringing, The elm-tree rooks were cawing at the springing: O beauty of the time when winter's done, And all the fields are laughing at the sun!

'I s'pose they've brought the line beyond the Knapp?'

'Ah, and beyond the Barcle, so they say.'

'Hearing the rooks begin reminds a chap.

Look queer, the street will, with the lock away; O G.o.d, I'll never see it.' 'Let us pray.

Don't think of that, but think,' the mother said, 'Of men going on long after we are dead.

Red helpless little things will come to birth, And hear the whistles going down the line, And grow up strong and go about the earth, And have much happier times than yours and mine; And some day one of them will get a sign, And talk to folk, and put an end to sin, And then G.o.d's blessed kingdom will begin.

G.o.d dropped a spark down into everyone, And if we find and fan it to a blaze It'll spring up and glow like--like the sun, And light the wandering out of stony ways.

G.o.d warms His hands at man's heart when he prays, And light of prayer is spreading heart to heart; It'll light all where now it lights a part.

And G.o.d who gave His mercies takes His mercies, And G.o.d who gives beginning gives the end.

I dread my death; but it's the end of curses, A rest for broken things too broke to mend.

O Captain Christ, our blessed Lord and Friend, We are two wandered sinners in the mire, Burn our dead hearts with love out of Thy fire.

And when thy death comes, Master, let us bear it As of Thy will, however hard to go; Thy Cross is infinite for us to share it, Thy help is infinite for us to know.

And when the long trumpets of the Judgment blow May our poor souls be glad and meet agen, And rest in Thee.' 'Say, "Amen," Jim.' 'Amen.'

There was a group outside the prison gate, Waiting to hear them ring the pa.s.sing bell, Waiting as empty people always wait For the strong toxic of another's h.e.l.l.

And mother stood there, too, not seeing well, Praying through tears to let His will be done, And not to hide His mercy from her son.

Talk in the little group was pa.s.sing quick.

'It's nothing now to what it was, to watch.'

'Poor wretched kid, I bet he's feeling sick.'

'Eh? What d'you say, chaps? Someone got a match?'

'They draw a bolt and drop you down a hatch And break your neck, whereas they used to strangle In olden times, when you could see them dangle.'

Some one said, 'Off hats' when the bell began.

Mother was whimpering now upon her knees.