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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 />

<strong>The</strong> child only wailed in reply, and Simon took the law into his own hands, and<br />

stripping off his jacket, wrapped it round her. According to the custom of the time her<br />

little feet and legs were insufficiently covered by the thinnest of socks and shoes, and<br />

she was now almost incapable of moving them. Simon had a natural tenderness for all<br />

live things, and had, moreover, been taught from his earliest childhood to respect and<br />

compassionate the weakness of the other sex. <strong>The</strong> sufferings of this very small<br />

specimen of woman-kind aroused all his sympathy, and it was with acute distress that<br />

he listened to her cries.<br />

"Are you hurt?" he asked suddenly, fearing that she might have sustained some injury<br />

that he knew not of. "Tell me, is it only the cold, or does anything pain you?"<br />

"It's my hands," sobbed the little creature; "they do hurt, oh they do!"<br />

She held out two minute gloveless hands, black and blue, and doubtless acutely painful<br />

with cold. Simon remembered the agony which he had himself endured, when once, as a<br />

very little fellow, he had stood about<br />

[31]<br />

with his father one cold market-day, and how his father had only restored the circulation<br />

to his own small suffering members by warming them in his capacious bosom.<br />

"Poor little hands!" he said gently. "Put them in here; we'll soon warm them. Now, we'll<br />

run for it, shall we?" He cuddled her close to him, and set off at a brisk pace, feeling as<br />

though two small bits of ice were pressing against his breast. Gradually the child ceased<br />

crying, and after a few minutes, indeed, he burst into the warm parlour at home,<br />

startling his mother and Aunt Binney, who were seated by the fire. His hat had fallen<br />

off, his boots were clogged with snow, and he was, as we know, jacketless. But his eyes<br />

were bright and eager, and his face flushed with excitement.<br />

"I've brought you a visitor," he cried. "I found this little lady in the snow, all alone. She<br />

was almost frozen, so I brought her to you to thaw. It's the Squire's little wench."<br />

Miss Belinda would have taken her from him, but with a cry of surprise and pleasure<br />

Mrs. <strong>Fleetwood</strong> held out her arms.<br />

"Give her to me. Give the sweet, pretty creature to me. What a way they must be in at<br />

the Hall about her! Go quickly, Simon, and tell Joe to let them know that we have found

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