The Widow in the Bye Street Part 2

Her voice caught lightly on a broken note, Jimmy half-dared but dared not touch her hand, Yet all his blood went pumping in his throat Beside the beauty he could understand, And Death stopped knitting at the m.u.f.fling band.

'The shroud is done,' he muttered, 'toe to chin.'

He snapped the ends, and tucked his needles in.

Jimmy, half stammering, choked, 'Has any man----'

He stopped, she shook her head to answer 'No.'

'Then tell me.' 'No. P'raps some day, if I can.

It hurts to talk of some things ever so.

But you're so different. There, come, we must go None but unhappy women know how good It is to meet a soul who's understood.'

'No. Wait a moment. May I call you Anna?'

'Perhaps. There must be nearness 'twixt us two.'

Love in her face hung out his b.l.o.o.d.y banner, And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew.

'When we got up to-day we never knew.'

'I'm sure I didn't think, nor you did.' 'Never.'

'And now this friends.h.i.+p's come to us for ever.'

'Now, Anna, take my arm, dear.' 'Not to-night, That must come later when we know our minds, We must agree to keep this evening white, We'll eat the fruit to-night and save the rinds.'

And all the folk whose shadows darked the blinds, And all the dancers whirling in the fair, Were wretched worms to Jim and Anna there.

'How wonderful life is,' said Anna, lowly.

'But it begins again with you for friend.'

In the dim lamplight Jimmy thought her holy, A lovely fragile thing for him to tend, Grace beyond measure, beauty without end.

'Anna,' he said; 'Good-night. This is the door.

I never knew what people meant before.'

'Good-night, my friend. Good-bye.' 'But, O my sweet, The night's quite early yet, don't say good-bye, Come just another short turn down the street, The whole life's bubbling up for you and I.

Somehow I feel to-morrow we may die.

Come just as far as to the blacksmith's light.'

But 'No' said Anna; 'Not to-night. Good-night.'

All the tides triumph when the white moon fills.

Down in the race the toppling waters shout, The breakers shake the bases of the hills, There is a thundering where the streams go out, And the wise s.h.i.+pman puts his s.h.i.+p about Seeing the gathering of those waters wan, But what when love makes high tide in a man?

Jimmy walked home with all his mind on fire, One lovely face for ever set in flame.

He s.h.i.+vered as he went, like tautened wire, Surge after surge of shuddering in him came And then swept out repeating one sweet name, 'Anna, O Anna,' to the evening star.

Anna was sipping whiskey in the bar.

So back to home and mother Jimmy wandered, Thinking of Plaister's End and Anna's lips.

He ate no supper worth the name, but pondered On Plaister's End hedge, scarlet with ripe hips, And of the lovely moon there in eclipse, And how she must be s.h.i.+ning in the house Behind the hedge of those old dog-rose boughs.

Old mother cleared away. The clock struck eight.

'Why, boy, you've left your bacon, lawks a me, So that's what comes of having tea so late, Another time you'll go without your tea.

Your father liked his cup, too, didn't he, Always "another cup" he used to say, He never went without on any day.

How nice the lady was and how she talked, I've never had a nicer fair, not ever.'

'She said she'd like to see us if we walked To Plaister's End, beyond by Watersever.

Nice-looking woman, too, and that, and clever; We might go round one evening, p'raps, we two; Or I might go, if it's too far for you.'

'No,' said the mother, 'we're not folk for that; Meet at the fair and that, and there an end.

Rake out the fire and put out the cat, These fairs are sinful, tempting folk to spend.

Of course she spoke polite and like a friend; Of course she had to do, and so I let her, But now it's done and past, so I forget her.'

'I don't see why forget her. Why forget her?

She treat us kind. She weren't like everyone.

I never saw a woman I liked better, And he's not easy pleased, my father's son.

So I'll go round some night when work is done.'

'Now, Jim, my dear, trust mother, there's a dear.'

'Well, so I do, but sometimes you're so queer.'

She blinked at him out of her withered eyes Below her lashless eyelids red and bleared.

Her months of sacrifice had won the prize, Her Jim had come to what she always feared.

And yet she doubted, so she shook and peered And begged her G.o.d not let a woman take The lovely son whom she had starved to make.

Doubting, she stood the dishes in the rack, 'We'll ask her in some evening, then,' she said, 'How nice her hair looked in the bit of black.'

And still she peered from eyes all dim and red To note at once if Jimmy drooped his head, Or if his ears blushed when he heard her praised, And Jimmy blushed and hung his head and gazed.

'This is the end,' she thought. 'This is the end.

I'll have to sew again for Mr Jones, Do hems when I can hardly see to mend, And have the old ache in my marrow-bones.

And when his wife's in child-bed, when she groans, She'll send for me until the pains have ceased, And give me leavings at the christening feast.

And sit aslant to eye me as I eat, "You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day, Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat, Don't ever think I mean to let you stay; Two's company, three's none, that's what I say."

Life can be bitter to the very bone When one is poor, and woman, and alone.

'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear, Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,'

And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear, 'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head.

'His name was little Binger.' 'Jim,' she said, 'Binger, now, chorus' ... Jimmy kicked the hob, The sacrament of song died in a sob.

Jimmy went out into the night to think Under the moon so steady in the blue.

The woman's beauty ran in him like drink, The fear that men had loved her burnt him through; The fear that even then another knew All the deep mystery which women make To hide the inner nothing made him shake.

'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.'

He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills.

A white star glimmered in the long ca.n.a.l, A droning from the music came in thrills.

Love is a flame to burn out human wills, Love is a flame to set the will on fire, Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.

One of the three, we make Love what we choose, But Jimmy did not know, he only thought That Anna was too beautiful to lose, That she was all the world and he was naught, That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught.

'Anna, I love you.' Underneath the moon, 'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.'

The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow.

The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel, The rifles cease, the folk begin to go, The hands unclamp the swing-boats from the wheel, There is a smell of trodden orange peel; The organ drones and dies, the horses stop, And then the tent collapses from the top.

The fair is over, let the people troop, The drunkards stagger homewards down the gutters, The showmen heave in an excited group, The poles tilt slowly down, the canvas flutters, The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters.

'Lower away.' 'Go easy.' 'Lower, lower.'

'You've dang near knock my skull in. Loose it slower.'

'Back in the horses.' 'Are the swing-boats loaded?'

'All right to start.' 'Bill, where's the cus.h.i.+on gone?

The red one for the Queen?' 'I think I stowed it.'

'You think, you think. Lord, where's that cus.h.i.+on, John?'