by L. T. Meade
dress,which was open and disarranged. "What did he do that for?" she asked inwhite anger.
"To let in the air. You was werry bad, Poll."
"Then he found out--"
"He found out, my poor dear."
"And you know it, Betsy Peters?"
"Oh, Poll, Poll, it's the will of the Lord."
"Don't come over me with your cant. I'm goin' out now. I'd like a dropof the medicine ef what you tells me about it is true, but I'll notwait. Good-night, neighbour; I must be goin' home to Jill."
"The chemist said as he'd speak to you, neighbour, and he seems a kindsort o' a man. You oughtn't to go away without seeing him."
"I don't want to see him; let me pass."
Poll approached the door of the little room. It was opened from behind,and the chemist came back.
"I am glad you are better," he said.
Poll dropped a curtsey.
"Yes, sir, and I'm obleeged to you. I'll be goin' home now."
"I should like to speak to you, first. Perhaps this woman would wait inthe shop."
"No, she needn't do that," said Poll. "Jeanie will want you, Betsy.You'd best be goin' back to her. Good-night."
Mrs Peters turned away with the meek expression habitual to her. Polland the chemist found themselves alone.
"Now, sir," she said, "I know you has found out what's up with me, but Idon't want it talked over. Words won't mend it. Ef that stuff you sellis good for pain like mine I'll pay yer for a bottle o' it, and there'san end of the matter."
"The medicine I sell is good for a great many things, but it won't reachyour pain. There is only one thing for you to do, my poor woman."
"Thank you, sir, I know that."
"Then you are going--"
"To the public-house round the corner? Yes, sir."
"Good heavens! how dreadful! The ease you get from drink onlyaggravates your suffering afterwards. It promotes fever, and underminesyour strength."
"I'd give a deal this minute for three or four hours' ease," said Poll."I'd drink a power of gin to get the ease, whether it were right orwrong."
"Look here," said the chemist. "I'll give you something to give yourelief for the night. You can take it away with you, and when you drinkit you will sleep sound, and your pain will go. To-morrow you must gointo a hospital; you can be cured there--cured, I say."
Poll laughed discordantly.
"I believe a deal o' that sort of talk," she said. "No, they cuts youup to bits in the 'ospital, that's what they does."
"You show your ignorance when you speak in that way. I tell you plainlythat the only chance you have is to get into a hospital as fast as everyou can, and to stop drinking gin. If you go on as you are doing, atpresent you will not live many months, and your death will beaccompanied by fearful suffering. Now do be sensible; believe thatdoctors only mean your best good. Here, take this little bottle, ofmedicine with you. It will give you a good-night."
Poll thanked the chemist and walked out of the shop. Should she go alittle farther to the public-house just at the corner, whose brilliantlights she could see from where she stood? No. For once she would beprudent; she would obey the chemist's directions, and trust to themedicine which she had put into her pocket giving her a night's relief.
She quickly retraced her steps in the direction of her home. She wasanxious to be back before Jill and young Carter returned.
She had just time to accomplish this purpose. Her bonnet and shawl wereoff, and a little paraffin lamp was burning brightly in the neatsitting-room when the two young people came in.
Jill went straight up to her mother and kissed her; then taking Nat'shand, she said, in a low, sweet voice which thrilled right into theheart of the older woman.
"We has it all settled, mother. He'll be my mate, and I'll be his.We're to be husband and wife in less than three weeks now, till death usdo part; that's what the Bible says, ain't it, Nat?"
"I was wed in a church, long, long years ago," answered Poll, "and theysaid words o' that sort. You ain't going to take my gel afore theregistrar, be you, Nat?"
"I'll do as Jill pleases," replied Nat. "I ain't one for churches. Inever did 'old by what you call religious folk. To be honest andupright and sober, that wor religion enough for me. To be sober andhonest, and to speak the truth allers, that's my creed. But ef Jillwants the church and the parson, why she may have 'em; I'm agreeable."
"I want the words, `Till death us do part,'" said Jill. "Do they saythem words at a Registry Office, Nat?"
"Not as I know on, my gel."
"Well, mother looks as ef she'd drop. We can settle that matter anothertime. Perhaps you'd best be goin' home now, Nat. I see as Susy hasleft already."
"Yes," said Poll, "I sent her home. I said it wor weary work waitingfor lovers. Well, good-night, Nat Carter. You'll be good to Jill."
"I hope I will, Mrs Robinson. Ef love can make me good to her, thenshe's safe enough."
"She's the sweetest gel man ever took to wife," continued Poll. "She'ssound as a nut through and through, both mind and body. See you treather well, or I'll give you my curse."
"Mother!" said Jill, in a voice of pain.
Poll pushed Jill aside with a fierce gesture.
"Let me be, gel," she said. "I must have my say out. Don't you supposeas it gives me pain to hand you over to another, even though it is NatCarter, who I think well on? And I don't mind saying to his face thatef he treats you bad my curse'll foller him wherever he is. It ain't alight thing to have the curse of a mother on you, young man, so you'dbest be careful."
Poll's words came out with such sudden force and venom that Jill turnedpale, and going up to her lover, hid her face against his shoulder.
Nat was silent for a moment in his astonishment; then, throwing hisstrong arm round Jill, he said with a faint, sweet smile.
"And ef I treat her well, even half as well as she deserves, you'llbless me, won't you, Mrs Robinson?"
"Ay, lad, that's true enough. I'll give you my blessing for what it'sworth. I don't fear but you'll be upright, Nat; but yours is a hardcreed, and may be it'll turn you a bit 'ard, by-and-bye."
"I don't know what you mean by my having a 'ard creed. A fellerwouldn't be worth his salt what wasn't sober, honest, and truthful."
"Right you are, lad." Poll laughed bitterly. "Well, good-night to you,and think on my words." Jill accompanied Nat into the passage.
"Mother's werry tired," she said, "and she ain't as well as I'd like tosee her. She suffers a good bit of pain now and then, and she feels megiving myself to you. You mustn't take agen her words, Nat."
"You may be sure I won't do that, sweet-heart, seein' as she's yourmother. But ef she's not well, Jill, oughtn't she to go to a'orspital?"
"No, no, she'll never do that. Good-night, Nat, good-night."
"Be sure you keep that bit of money I give you to take care on safe,Jill. It's for my mate, Joe Williams, and I'll have to give it up tohim on Saturday night. It's a load off my mind you having it, for Idon't like the lodgings I'm in now a bit. I don't think the folks arestraight, and five pounds is a goodish lump of money."
"I'll put it into the stocking with my own savings," said Jill."Good-night, Nat."
CHAPTER SEVEN.
The boys came in presently, and Jill and her mother went to bed. Theyoung girl's head scarcely touched her pillow when she was in the landof dreams, but the older woman stayed awake.
She held tightly clasped in her hand the little bottle which the chemisthad given her, and which was to give relief to her suffering. It was inher power to take the cork out of the bottle, and drink off the contentsat any moment, but she refrained from doing so.
Cruel as her pain had been all day she did not want to drown it inoblivion now; she wished to stay awake, she did not want the short hoursof the summer night to slip away in forgetfulness.
Poll stretched out one hot hand, and laid it softly, with a mother'stenderness, on the shoulder of the gi
rl who slept so peacefully at herside. It was pleasant to touch that young form; it was such ease to hertortured mind that it was almost as good as ease of body would havebeen.
Poll had always loved Jill with a curious, passionate, waywardaffection. She had married a man whom she had not
