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The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Salamanca</strong> <strong>Corpus</strong>: <strong>Yeoman</strong> <strong>Fleetwood</strong> (<strong>1900</strong>)<br />

owd Susan as thought the world o' thee —ever since thou wast a little lad. Eh, and I do<br />

still. I’m getting past work, thou knows, but I allus said I’d stop and see thy first child<br />

christened. Didn't I now? Thou should na’ mak' a stranger of poor owd Susan."<br />

Simon raised his head, and taking hold of the hand<br />

[298]<br />

which rested on his shoulder pressed it warmly. "You’ve a faithful old soul,” he said. “I<br />

am glad to think there is one creature in the world who loves me. Do not talk of being<br />

past work — there's many a year's work in you yet, old woman — you must stay with<br />

me until you die; but I fear me, Susan, you will never see the christening of any child of<br />

mine. Now go to bed, there's a good soul," he added, releasing her hand; "I want nothing<br />

more."<br />

"Munnot I coom in a two-three minutes to clear away?" inquired Susan, much mystified<br />

and entirely overcome.<br />

“No, no, it is too late; you can leave the tray here until to-morrow. Now, good-night,<br />

Susan, if you love me ask me no more questions."<br />

<strong>The</strong> old woman withdrew very reluctantly, sniffing as she went, and wiping her eyes<br />

with the back of her hand, the usually available apron corner being absent on this<br />

occasion. In spite of her master's injunctions she stood for a little while outside the door,<br />

straining her ears in the vain hope of ascertaining whether or no he was plying his knife<br />

and fork. But all was silent within, and presently, with a deep sigh, she went slowly<br />

creaking up the stairs, sobbing under her breath.<br />

Simon, indeed, had taken no heed of the inviting appearance of the little tray; his eyes<br />

were sufficiently open to his surroundings to note their desolation, but his mind and<br />

heart were occupied with other visions, with conflicting memories, some full of almost<br />

unbearable sweetness, some bitter and poignant.<br />

<strong>The</strong> tones of Rachel's voice seemed to float about him, now arch, now tender, now<br />

sweetly penitent-anon stinging and fierce. Again he saw her standing by the hearth, as<br />

he had seen her on that first memorable evening, a phantom of delight in her<br />

[299]

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