Chapter 9 of Esther Waters. This is a library box recording. All library box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librarybox.org. Recording by Peter Abraham. Esther Waters by George Moore. Chapter 9. Nearly everything came down untouched. Eating and drinking had been in progress almost all day on the course. And Esther had finished washing up before 9. And had laid the cloth in the servant's hall for supper. But if little was eaten upstairs, plenty was eaten downstairs. The mutton was finished in a thrice. And Mrs. Lach had to fetch from the larder what remained of a beast's steak pudding. Even then they were not satisfied. And fine inroads were made into a new piece of cheese. Where, according to orders, was served without limit. And four bottles of port was sent down so that the health of the horse might be adequately drunk. While assuaging their hunger, the men had exchanged many elusive remarks regarding the demon's bad ending. How nearly he had thrown the race away. And the meal being now over, and there being nothing to do but to sit and talk, Mr. Leopold, encouraged by William, entered on an elaborate and technical account of the race. The women listened, playing with a rind of cheese, glancing at the cheese itself, wondering if they could manage another slice. And the men sipping their pork wine, puffing at their pipes. William, listening most avidly of all, enjoying each sporting term, and ingeniously reminding Mr. Leopold of some detail whenever he seemed disposed to shorten his narrative. The criticism of the demon's horsemanship took a long while. For by a variety of suggestive remarks, William led Mr. Leopold into reminiscence of the skill of certain famous jockies in the first half of the century. These digressions varied Sarah and Grover, and their thoughts wandered to the dresses that had been worn that day. And the ladies made remembered she would hear all that interested her that night in the young ladies' room.   She wanted to know what the demon had done to so nearly lose the race. Had he mistaken the winning post and pulled up? William looked at her contemptuously and would have answered rudely, but at that moment Mr. Leopold began to tell the last instructions that the gaffer had given the demon. The orders were that the demon should go right up to the leaders before they reached the half mile and remain there. Of course, if he found that he was a stone or more in hand as the gaffer expected, he might come away pretty well as he liked. For the greatest danger was that the horse might get shut out or might show temper and turn it up. Well, said Mr. Leopold, there were two false starts and silver braid must have galloped a couple of hundred yards before the demon could stop him. There wasn't two pence half penny worth of strength in him left. Pulling off those three or four pounds pretty well finished him. He'll never be able to ride that weight again. He said before starting that he felt weak. You took him along too smartly from Port Slade the last time you went there. When he went by himself, he'd stopped playing marbles with the boys around the Southwick public house. If there had been another false start, I think it would have been all up with us. The gaffer was quite pale and he stood there not taking his glasses from his eyes. There were over 30 of them so you can imagine how hard it was to get them into line. However, at the third attempt they were got straight and away they came.  Presently the black cap and jacket came to the front and not very long after a murmur went around. Silver braid wins, never saw anything like it in all my life. He was three lengths ahead and the others were pulling off. Damn the boy, he'll win by 20 lengths said the gaffer without removing his glasses. But when within a few yards of the stand, at that moment the bell rang. Mr. Leopold said, there, they are wanting their tea. I must go and get it. Drag their tea, said Margaret. They can wait. Finish up. Tell us how he won. Mr. Leopold looked around and seeing every eye fixed on him, he considered how much remained of the story and with quickened speech continued. Well, approaching the stand, I noticed that Silver braid was not going quite so fast and at the very instant the demon looked over his shoulder and seeing he was glusing round, he took up the whip. But the moment he struck him, the horse swerved right across the course, right under the stand, running like a rat from underneath the whip.  But seeing what was happening, the tin man who was on bullfinch, sat down and began riding. I felt as if there was a lump of ice down my back and Mr. Leopold lowered his voice and his face became grave as he recalled that perilous moment. I thought it was all over, he said. And the gaffer thought the same. I never saw a man go so deadly pale. It was all the work of a moment, but that moment was more than a year. At least so it seemed to me. Well, about half way up the rails, the tin man got level with the demon. It was ten to one that Silverbrade would turn it up. Or that the boy wouldn't have the strength to ride out so close a finish as it was bound to be. I thought then of the way you used to take him along from Port Slade. And I would have given something to put a pound or two of flesh into his thighs and arms. The tin man was riding splendid, getting every ounce and something more out of bullfinch. The demon, too weak to do much, was sitting nearly quite still. It looked as if it was all up with us. But somehow Silverbrade took to galloping off his own accord. And having such a mighty lord in, and he won on the post by a head, a short head, I never felt that queer in my life and the gaffer was no better. But I said to him, just before the numbers went up, it is alright sir, he's just done it. And when the right number went up, I thought everything was on the dance, going for a swim like. By golly, it was a near thing. At the end of a long silence, Mr Leopold said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. Now I must go and get their tea. Esther sat at the end of the table. Her cheek leaned on her hand. By turning her eyes she could see William. Sarah noticed one of these stealthy backward glances and a look of anger crossed her face. And calling to William, she asked him when the sweepstakes money would be divided. The questions startled William from a reverie of small bets. And he answered that there was no reason why the sweepstakes money should not be divided at once. There was twelve. That's right, isn't it? Sarah, Margaret, Esther, Miss Grover, Mr Leopold, myself, the four boys, and Swindles and Wall. Well, it was agreed that seven should go to the first, three to the second, and two to the third. No one got the third-os, so I suppose the two shillings that would have gone to him had better be given to the first. Given to the first, why that's Esther? Why should she get it? What do you mean no third? Wasn't soap bubble third? Soap bubble was third right enough, but he wasn't in the sweep. And why wasn't he? Because he wasn't among the eleven first favourites. We took them as they were quoted in the betting list, published in the Sportsman. How was it then that you put in silver braid? You didn't get so angry, Sarah. No one's cheating. It is all above board. If you don't believe us, you'd better accuse us straight out. What I want to know is, why was silver braid included? He wasn't among the eleven first favourites.  You know that we agreed to make an exception in favour of our own os. A nice sweep it would have been if we hadn't included silver braid. And suppose, she exclaimed, tightening her brows, that soap bubble had won. What would have become of our money? It would have been returned. Everyone would have got his shilling back. And now I am to get three shillings, and that little Methodist or Plymouth Brethren there, whatever you like to call her, is to get nine? Said Sarah, with a light of inspiration flashing through a beer-clouded mind. Why should the two shillings that would have gone to soap bubble, if anyone had drawn him, go to the first os rather than to the second? William hesitated, unable for the moment to give a good reason why the extra two shillings should be given to silver braid. And Sarah, perceiving her advantage, deliberately accused him of wishing to favour Esther. Don't we know that you went out to walk with her? And that you remained out till nearly eleven at night? That's why you want all the money to go to her. You don't take us for a lot of fools, do you? Never in any place I was in before would such a thing be allowed. The footmen going out with the kitchen maid, and one of the dissenting lords. I am not going to have my religion insulted.  And Esther started up from her place. But William was too quick for her. He grasped her arm. Never mind what Sarah says. Never mind what I says. A thing like that? Who never was in a situation before? No doubt taken out of some house. Rescue work, I think they call it. She shan't insult me. No, she shan't. Said Esther, tremulous with passion. A nice sort of person to insult. Said Sarah, her arms a Kimbo. Now look here, Sarah Tucker. Said Mrs Latch, starting from her seat. I'm not going to see that girl aggravated. So that she may do what she shouldn't do. And give you an opportunity of going to the Mrs with tales about her. Come away Esther. Come with me. Let them go on betting if they will. I never saw no good come of it. That's all very fine mother. But it must be settled. And we have to divide the money. I don't want your money. Said Esther sullenly. I wouldn't take it. What blooming nonsense. You must take your money. Ah, here's Mr Leopold. He'll decide it. Mr Leopold said at once that the money that under other circumstances would have gone to the third os must be divided between the first and second. But Sarah refused to accept this decision. Finally, it was proposed that the matter should be referred to the editor of the sportsman. And as Sarah still remained deaf to argument William offered her a choice between the sportsman and the sporting life. Look here said William getting between the women. This evening isn't one for fighting. We have all won our little bit and ought to be thankful. The only difference between you is two shillings that were to have gone to the third os if anyone had drawn him. Mr Leopold says it ought to be divided. You Sarah won't accept his decision. We have offered to write to the sportsman and Esther has offered to give up her claim. Now in the name of God, tell us what do you want? She raised some wholly irrelevant issue and after a protracted argument with William largely composed of insulting remarks she declared that she wasn't going to take the two shillings nor yet one of them. Let them give her the three she had won that was all she wanted. William looked at her shrugged his shoulders and after declaring that it was his conviction that women wasn't intended to have nothing to do with horse racing he took up his pipe and tobacco pouch. Good night ladies. I have had enough of you for tonight. I am going to finish my smoke in the pantry. Don't scratch all your air out. Leave enough for me to put into a locket. When the pantry door was shut and the men had smoked some moments in silence William said, Do you think he has any chance of winning the Chesterfield Cup? He'll win in a canter if he'll only run straight. If I was the gaffer I think I'd put up a bigger boy. He left to carry a seven pound penalty and Johnny Scott could ride that way. The likelihood that a horse will bolt with one jockey and run straight with another was argued passionately and illustrated with interesting reminiscence drawn from that remote past when Mr. Leopold was the gaffer's personal servant before either of them had married when life was composed entirely of horse racing and price fighting. But cutting short his tale of how he had met one day the Birmingham chicken in a booth and not knowing who he was had offered to fight him. Mr. Leopold confessed he did not know how to act. He had a bet of 50 pounds to 10 shillings for the double event. Should he stand it out or head some of it off? William was thrilled with admiration.   What a brain there was inside. 50 pounds to 10 shillings. Should he stand it out or head some of it? Who could tell better than Mr. Leopold? It would of course be a pity to break into the 50. What did 10 shillings matter? Mr. Leopold was a big enough man to stand the racket of it even if it didn't come back. William was very proud of being consulted for Mr. Leopold had never before been known to let anyone know what he had on a race. Next day they walked into showroom together. The bar of the red lion was full of people. Above the thronging crowd the voice of the bar man and the customers was heard calling. Two glasses of Burton glass of bitter three of whiskey cold. Three potters, sailors, boatmen, shop boys and market gardeners they had all won something and had come for their winnings. Old Watkins, an elderly man with white whiskers and a curving stomach had just run in to wet his whistle. He walked back to his office with Mr. Leopold and William a little corner shelved out of some outhouses into which you could walk from the street. Talk of favourites he said he'd sooner pay over the three first favourites than this one. 30, 20 to 1 starting price and the whole town on to him it's enough to break any man. Now my man what is it? He said turning to the railway porters just the trifle me and my mates have won over that year ors what was it? A shilling at 5 and 20 to 1 Look it out Joey is it alright? Yes sir, yes sir said the clerk and old Watkins slid his hand into his breeches pocket and it came forth filled with gold and silver. Come come mates we are bound to have a bet on him for the chest to fill. We can afford it now What say a shilling each? Done for a shilling each said the under porter finest horse in training What price must a Watkins ride Here's my Bob The other porters gave their shillings Watkins slid them back into his pocket and called to Joey to book the bet and now what is yours Mr Latch? Williams stated the various items he had had a bet of 10 shillings to 1 on one race and had lost he had had half a crown on another and had lost In a word he and six pence had to be subtracted from his winnings on silver grade these amounted to more than five pounds Williams faced flushed with pleasure and the world seemed to be his when he slipped four sovereigns and a handful of silver into his waistcoat pocket Should he put a sovereign of his winnings on silver grade for the chest to fill? Half a sovereign was enough the danger of risking a sovereign a whole sovereign frightened him Now Mr Latch said old Watkins if you want to back anything make up your mind there are a good many besides yourself who have business with me Williams hesitated and then said he take 10 half sovereigns to one against silver grade 10 half sovereigns to one said old Watkins William Murmur Yes and Joey booked the bet Mr Leopold's business demanded more consideration the fat betting man and the scarecrow little butler walked aside and talked both apparently indifferent to the impatience of a small number of customers sometimes Joey called in a shrill cracked voice if he might lay 10 half crowns to one or five shillings to one as the case might be Watkins would then raise his eyes from Mr Leopold's face and nod or shake his head or perhaps would sign with his fingers that he was prepared to lay with no one else would Watkins talk so lengthily show so much deference Mr Leopold had the lack of investing all he did with an air of mystery and the deepest interest was evinced in this conversation at last as of dismissing matters of first importance the two men approached William and he heard Watkins pressing Mr Leopold to lay off some of that 50 pounds I'll take 12 to 1 24 pounds to 2 shall I book it Mr Leopold shook his head and smiling enigmatically said he must be getting back William was much impressed and congratulated himself on his courage in taking the 10 sovereigns to one Mr Leopold knew a thing or two he had been talking to the gaffer that morning and if it hadn't been alright he would have laid off some of the money next day one of the gaffer's two year olds won a race and the day after Silverbrade won the Chesterfield Cup the second victory of Silverbrade nearly ruined old Watkins he declared that he had never been so hard hit but as he did not ask for time and continued to draw notes in gold and silver in handfuls from his capacious pockets his lamentations only served to stimulate the happiness of the fortunate backers and listening to the sweet note of self ringing in their hearts they returned to the public house to drink the health of the horse so the flood of gold continued to roll into the little town decrepit and colourless by its high shingle beach and long reaches of muddy river the dear gold jingled merrily in the pockets quickening the steps lightning the heart curling lips with smiles and laughter the dear gold came falling softly sweetly as rain soothing the hard lives of working folk lives pressed with toil lifted up and began to dream again the dear gold was like an opiate it wiped away memories of hardship and sorrow it showed life in a lighter and merrier guise and the folk laughed at their fears for the morrow and wondered how they could have thought life so tired and relentless the dear gold was pleasing as a bird on the branch as a flower on the stem the tune it sang was sweet the colour it flaunted was bright the trade of former days had never brought the excitement and the fortune that this horse's hooves had done the dust they had thrown up had fallen a happy golden shower upon showering in every corner and crevice of life it appeared that fine red dress on the builder's wife and the feathers that the girls flaunted their sweethearts the loud trousers on the young man's legs the cigar in his mouth all is good wood gold it glitters in that girl's ears and on this girl's finger it was said that the town of Shawrim had won 2000 pounds on the race it was said that Mr. Leopold had won 200 it was said that William Latch had won 50 it was said that Wall the coachman had won 5 and 20 it was said that the gaffer had won 40000 pounds for 10 miles around nothing was stocked off but the wealth of the barfields and drawn like moths to a candle the county came to call even the most distant and reserved left cards others walked up and down the lawn with the gaffer listening to the slightest word a golden prosperity shown upon the yellow Italian house carriages passed under its elm trees every hour and swept around the evergreen oaks rumour said that large alterations were going to be made so that larger and grander entertainments might be given an Italian garden was spoken of balustrades and terraces stables were in course of construction many more assources were bought they arrived daily and the slender creatures their dark eyes glancing out of the sight holes in their cloth hoods walked up from the station followed by an admiring and commenting crowd drink and expensive living dancing and singing upstairs and downstairs and the jollifications culminated in a servants ball given at the shawrim gardens all the wood view servants accepting mrs. Latch were there likewise all the servants from mrs. Northcote's and those from sir George Preston's two leading county families a great number of servants had come from West Brighton and Lansing and Worthing all together between 2 and 300 evening dresses indispensable was printed on the cards the butlers footmen cooks ladies maids housemaids and housekeepers looked by this notification to keep the ball select but the restriction seemed to condemn esther to play again the part of Cinderella end of chapter 9 chapter 10 of esther waters this is a library box recording all library box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librarybox.org recording by pta abraham esther waters by george moe chapter 10 a group of men turned from the circular buffet when esther entered mrs. mary had given her a white muslin dress a square cut bodice with sleeves reaching to the elbows and a blue sash tied around the waist the remarks as she passed were a nice pretty girl william was waiting and she went away with him on the hop of a vigorous polka many of the dancers had gone to get a pool in the gardens but a few couples had begun to whirl the women born along by force the men poising their legs into curious geometrical positions mr. leopold was very busy dragging men away from their circular buffet they must dance whether they knew how or not the gaffers told me particular to see that the gals all had partners and just looked down that year room half of that lot haven't been on their legs yet here's a partner for you and the butler pulled a young gamekeeper who had just arrived she entered slowly her hands clasped across her bosom her eyes fixed on the ground and the strangeness of the spectacle caused mr. leopold to pause it was whispered that she had never worn a low dress before and grover came to the rescue of her modesty with a pocket handkerchief but it had been found impossible to restrict the ball to those who possessed or could obtain an evening soothe and plenty of checked trousers were huffing about among the villagers many a touch suggested costume a young girl had borrowed her grandmother's wedding dress and a young man wore a canary colored waistcoat and a blue coast guardman's coat of old time these touches of fancy and personal taste divided the villagers from the household servants the butler seemed on the watch for side dishes and the valets suggested hairbrushes in hot water cook's trail black silk presses adorn white collars and fasten with gold brooches containing portraits of their late husbands and the fine shirt front set off with rich pearls the lavender-gloved hands the delicate faces expressive of ease and leisure made ginger's two friends young mr. Preston and young mr. Northcote noticeable among this menial work-a-day crowd ginger loved the upper circles and now he romped the polka in the most approved London fashion his elbows advanced like a yacht's bow sprint and his coattails flying he dashed through a group of traits people who were bobbing up and down hardly advancing at all Esther was now being spoken off as the bell of the ball she had danced with young mr. Preston and seeing her sitting alone Grover called her and asked her why she was not dancing Esther answered rather sullenly that she was tired the next polka just to show that there is no ill feeling half a dozen times William repeated his demand at last she said you spoiled all my pleasure in the dancing I'm sorry if I have done the rest I was jealous that's all jealous what was you jealous for what do it matter what people think so long as I know I haven't done no wrong and in silence they walked into the garden the night was warm even oppressive and the moon hung like a balloon above the trees and often the straying revelers stopped to consider the markings now so plain upon its disc there were arbours artificial ruins darkling pathways and the breathless garden was noisy in the elusive light William showed Esther the theatre and explained its purpose listen though she did not understand nor would she believe that she was not dreaming when they suddenly stood in the borders of a beautiful lake full of the shadows of tall trees and crossed by a wooden bridge at the narrowest end how still the water is and the stars they are lovely you should see the gardens about 3 o'clock on Saturday afternoons when the excursion comes in from Brighton they walked on a little further and Esther said what's these places ain't they dark these are arbours where we have shrimps and tea I'll take you next Saturday if you'll come a noisy band of young men followed by 3 or 4 girls ran across the bridge suddenly they stopped to argue on which side the boat was to be found some chose the left some the right those who went to the right and paddled into the middle of the water they first addressed remarks to their companions and then they admired the moon and stars a song was demanded and at the end of the second verse William threw his arm around Esther oh Esther I do love you she looked at him her grey eyes fixed in a long interrogation I wonder if that's true what is there to love in me he squeezed her tightly and continued his protestations I do I do love you Esther she did not answer and they walked slowly on a holly bush threw a black shadow on the gravel path and a moment after the ornamental tin roof of the dancing room appeared between the trees even in their short absence a change had come upon the ball about the circular buffet numbers of men called for a drink and talked loudly of horse racing many were away at supper and those that remained were musing themselves in a desultory fashion a tall lean woman dressed like Sarah in white muslin wearing amber beads around her neck was dancing the lances with the demon and everyone shook with laughter when she whirled a little fellow around or took him in her arms and carried him across William wanted to dance but Esther was hungry and led him away to an adjoining building where cold beef, chicken and beer might be had by the strong and adventurous as they struggled through the crowd Esther spied three young gentlemen the other end of the room now tell me if they asked me, the young gents yonder to dance am I to look them straight in the face and say no William considered for a moment and then he said I think you had better dance with them if they asked you if you refuse Sarah will say it was I who put you up to it let's have another bottle cried ginger come what do you say Mr Thomas Mr Thomas coughed smiled and said that Mr Arthur wished to see him in the hands of the police however he promised to drink his share two more bottles were sent for and stimulated by the wine the weights that would probably be assigned to certain horses in the automatic amp were discussed William was very proud of being admitted into such company and as he listened a cigar which he did not like between his teeth and a glass of champagne in his hand suddenly the conversation was interrupted by the cornet sounding the first phase of a favorite waltz and the tipsy and the sober hastened away neither Esther nor William knew how to waltz but they tumbled around the room enjoying themselves immensely in the polka and mazuka they got on better and then there were quadrilles and lances in which the gentlemen joined and all were gay and pleasant even Sarah's usually sour face glowed with cordiality when they joined hands and raced around the men standing in the middle in the chain they lost themselves as in a labyrinth and found their partners unexpectedly but the dance of the evening was Sir Roger de Cavalli and Esther's usually sober little brain evaporated in the folly of running up the room then turning and running backwards getting into a place as best she could and then starting again it always appeared to be her turn and it was so sweet to see her dear William and such a strange excitement to run forward to meet young Mr Preston to curtsy to him and then run away and this over and over again there's the dawn Esther looked and in the whitening door is she saw the little jockey staggering about helplessly drunk the smile died out of her eyes she returned to her true self to Mrs Barfield and the brethren she felt that all this dancing, drinking and kissing in the arbos was wicked but Miss Mary had sent for her and had told her that she would give her one of her dresses and she had not known how to refuse Miss Mary then if she had not gone William sounds of loud voices were heard in the garden and the lean woman in white muslin repeated some charge Esther ran out to see what was happening and there she witnessed a disgraceful scene the lean woman in the muslin dress and the amber beads accused young Mr Preston of something which he denied and she heard William tell someone that he was mistaken and Mrs Pals didn't want no rowing at this year ball and what was more, they didn't mean to have none and her heart filled with love for her big William what a fine fellow he was how handsome were his shoulders beside that round shoulder little man whom he so easily pulled aside and having crushed out the quarrel he helped her on with her jacket and hanging on his arm they returned home through the little town Margaret followed with the railway porter Sarah was with her faithful admirer a man with a red beard whom she had picked up at the ball Rover waddled in the rear embarrassed with the green silk which he held high out of the dust of the road when they reached the station the sky was stained with rose and the barren downs mottled in light then ever in the shadowless light of dawn stretched across the sunrise from Lansing to Brighton little birds sat ruffling their feathers and awaking to the responsibilities of the day flew into the con the night had been closed in sultry and even at this hour there was hardly any freshness in the air Esther looked at the hills examining the landscape intently she was thinking of the first time she saw it some vague association of ideas the likeness that the morning landscape bore to the evening landscape or the wish to prolong the sweetness of these the last moments of her happiness impelled her to linger and to ask William if the woods and fields were not beautiful the two familiar landscapes awoke in William neither idea nor sensation Esther interested him more and while she gazed dreamily on the hills he admired the white curve of her neck which showed beneath the unbuttoned jacket she never looked prettier than she did that morning standing on the dusty road her wide dress crumpled the ends of the blue sash hanging beneath the black cloth jacket End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 For days nothing was talked of but the ball how this man had danced the bad taste of this woman's dress and the possibility of a marriage the ball had brought amusement to all to Esther it had brought happiness her happiness was now visible in her face and audible in her voice and Sarah's ironical illusions to her inability to learn to read no longer annoyed her no longer stirred her temper her loved seemed to induce forgiveness for all and love for everything in the evenings when their work was done Esther and her lover lingered about the farm buildings listening to the rooks seeing the lights die in the west and in the summer darkness about nine she tripped by his side when he took the letters to post the wheat stacks were thatching and in the rickyard in the carpenter's shop and in the wist of the woods they talked of love and marriage they lay together in the warm valleys of the twinkling of the sheep-bell and one evening, putting his pipe aside William threw his arm round her whispering that she was his wife the words were delicious and her fainting ears and her will died in what seemed like irresistible destiny she could not struggle with him though she knew that her fate depended upon her resistance and swooning away she awakened in pain powerless to free herself soon after thoughts we took themselves on their painful way and she was crying when he followed her across the down beseeching her to listen but she fled along the grey road and up the stairs to her room Margaret was in bed and awakening a little asked her what had kept her out so late she did not answer and hearing Margaret fall asleep she remembered the supper-table Sarah, who had come in late had sat down by her William sat on the opposite side Mrs. Latch was in her place with her snuff-box on the table Margaret and Grover everyone had drunk a great deal and Mr. Leopold had gone to the beer-seller many times she thought that she remembered feeling a little dizzy when William asked her to come for a stroll up the hill they had passed through the hunting-gate they had wandered into the loneliness of the hills over the folded sheep the rooks came home noisily through a deepening sky so far she remembered and she could not remember further and all night lay staring into the darkness and when Margaret called her in the morning she was pale and death-like whatever is the matter you do look ill I did not sleep all last night my head aches as if it would drop off I don't feel as if I could go to work today that's the worst of being a servant well or ill it makes no matter she turned from the glass and holding her hair in her left hand leaned her head so that she might pin it you do look bad she remarked dryly never had they been so late half past seven and the shutter still up so said Margaret as they hurried downstairs but Esther thought only of the meeting with William she had seen him cleaning boots in the pantry as they passed he waited till Margaret left her till he heard the bay's door which separated the back premises from the front of the house close then he ran to the kitchen where he expected to find Esther alone but meeting his mother he mumbled some excuse and retreated there were visitors in the house she had a good deal to do that morning and Esther kept close to Mrs. Latch but at breakfast it suddenly became necessary that she should answer him and Sarah saw that Esther and William were no longer friends well I never look at her she sits there over her tea cup as Mel and Collie as a prayer meeting what is it to you said William what's it to me I don't like an ugly face at the breakfast table that's all I wouldn't be your looking glass then luckily there isn't one here Esther walked out of the room during dinner she hardly spoke at all after dinner she went to her room and did not come down until she thought he had gone out with the carriage but she was too soon William came running down the passage to meet her he laid his hand supplicatingly on her arm don't touch me she said and her eyes filled with dangerous light now Esther come don't lay it on too thick go away don't speak to me just listen one moment that's all go away if you don't I'll go straight to Mrs. Barfield she passed into the kitchen and shut the door in his face he had gone a trifle pale and after lingering a few moments he hurried away to the stables and Esther saw him spring on the box as it was frequent with Esther not to speak to anyone with whom she had had a dispute for a week or fifteen days her continued sulk excited little suspicion and the cause of the quarrel she said men are such fools he is always begging of her to forgive him just look at him she rarely answered him a yes or no but would push past him and if he forcibly barred the way she would say let me go by will you you are interfering with my work and if he still insisted she spoke of appealing to Mrs. Barfield and if her heart sometimes softened and an insidious thought whispered that it did not matter since they were going to be married and forced her to repel him her instinct was that she could only win his respect by refusing forgiveness for a long while the religion in which her soul moved and lived the sternest Protestantism strengthened and enforced the original convictions and the prejudices of her race and the natural shame which she had first felt almost disappeared in the violence of her virtue she even ceased to fear discovery what did it matter who knew since she knew she opened her heart to God she looked down but he seemed stern and unforgiving her Christ was the Christ of her forefathers and he had not forgiven because she could not forgive herself hers was the unpardonable sin the sin which her race had elected to fight against and she lay down weary and swollen at heart the days seemed to bring no change and wearied by her stubbornness William said, let her sulk and he went out with Sarah and when Esther saw them go down the yard they did not want him for she knew it to be a trick to make her jealous and that he should dare such a trick angered her still further against him and when they met in the garden where she had gone with some food for the cats and he said, forgive me Esther I only went out with Sarah because you drove me wild she closed her teeth and refused to answer but he stood in her path determined not to leave her I am very fond of you Esther and I will marry you as soon as I have earned enough for a comfortable home you are a wicked man I will never marry you I am very sorry Esther but I am not as bad as you think for you let your temper get the better of you so soon as I have got a bit of money together if you were a good man you would ask me to marry you now I will if you like but the truth is that I have only three pounds in the world I have been unlucky lately you think of nothing but that wicked bedding come let me pass I will not speak to you but look here Esther marriage or no marriage we can't go on in this way they'll be suspecting something shortly I shall leave Woodview she had hardly spoken the words when it seemed clear to her that she must leave and the sooner the better come let me pass if Mrs. Barfield an angry look passed over Williams face and he said I want to act honest with you and you won't let me have a filthy pig Sarah's quite right you are just the sword that would make hell of a man's life she was bound to make him respect her she had vaguely felt from the beginning that this was her only hope and now the sensation developed and defined itself into a thought and she decided that she would not yield but would continue to affirm her belief that he must acknowledge his sin and then come and ask her to marry him above all things Esther desired to see William repentant Filling as it did her entire life, unconsciously made her deem repentance an essential condition of their happiness. How could they be happy if he were not a God-fearing man? This question presented itself constantly, and she was suddenly convinced that she could not marry him until he had asked forgiveness of the Lord. Then they would be joined together, and would love each other faithfully unto death. But in conflict with her prejudices, her natural love of the man was as the sun, shining above a fog laid in valley. Rays of passion pierced her stubborn nature, dissolving it, and unconsciously her eyes sought Williams, and unconsciously her steps strayed from the kitchen when her ears told her he was in the passage. But when her love went out freely to William, when she longed to throw herself in his arms saying, Yes, I love you, make me your wife, she noticed, or thought she noticed, that he avoided her eyes, and she felt that thoughts of which she knew nothing had obtained a footing in his mind, and she was full foreboding. Her heart being intent on him, she was aware of much that escaped the ordinary eye, and she was the first to notice when the drawing room bell rang, and Mr. Leopold rose, that William would say, My legs are the youngest, don't you stir? No one else, not even Sarah, thought William intended more than to keep in Mr. Leopold's good graces, but Esther, though unable to guess the truth, heard the still-tinkling bell ringing the knell of her hopes. She noted, too, the time he remained upstairs, and asked herself anxiously what it was that detained him so long. The weather had turned colder lately.  In the course of the afternoon she heard from Margaret that Miss Mary and Mrs. Barfield had gone to Southwick to make a call, and she heard from one of the boys that the gaffer and ginger had ridden over in the morning to fend in fare, and had not yet returned. It must have been Peggy who had rung the bell. Peggy? Suddenly she remembered something, something that had been forgotten. The first Sunday, the first time she went to the library for family prayers, Peggy was sitting on the little green sofa, and as Esther passed across the room to her place, she saw her cast a glance of admiration on William's tall figure, and the memory of that glance had flamed up in her brain, and all that night Esther saw the girl with a pale face and the coal-black hair looking at her William. Next day Esther waited for the bell that was to call her lover from her. The afternoon wore slowly away, and she had begun to hope she was mistaken, when the metal tongue commenced calling.  A moment after all was still in the corridor, and like one sunk to the knees in quicksands, she felt that the time had come for a decided effort. But what could she do? She could not follow him to the drawing-room. She had begun to notice that he seemed to avoid her, and by his conduct seemed to wish that their quarrel might endure. But pride and temper had fallen from her, and she lived conscious of him, noting every sign, and intensely all that related to him, divining all his intentions, and meeting him in the passage when he least expected her. I'm always getting in your way, she said, with a low, nervous laugh. No harm in that, fellow-servants, there must be give and take. Suddenly they looked at each other, feeling that the time had come, that an explanation was inevitable. But at that moment the drawing-room bell rang above their heads, and William said, I must answer that bell. He turned from her, and passed through the bay's door before she had said another word. Sarah remarked that William seemed to spend a great deal of his time in the drawing-room, and Esther started out of her moody contemplation, and speaking instinctively, she said, I don't think much of ladies who go after their servants. William looked up. Mrs. Latch laid her carving-knife on the meat, and fixed her eyes on her son. Lady, said Sarah, she's no lady. Her mother used to mop out the yard before she was churched. I can tell you what, said William, you would better mind what you were a-saying of, for if any of your talk got wind upstairs you'd lose your situation, and it might be some time before you got another. Lose my situation, and a good job, too. I shall always be able to suit me sell. Don't you fear about me? But if it comes to talking about situations, I can tell you that you are more likely to lose yours than I am to lose mine. William hesitated, and while he saw a judicious reply Mrs. Latch and Mr. Leopold, putting forth their joint authority, brought the discussion to a close. The jockey boys exchanged grins, Sarah sulked, Mr. Swindles pursed up his mouth in consideration, and the elder servants felt that the matter would not rest in the servant's hall. That evening it would be the theme of conversation in the Red Lion, and the next day it would be the talk of the town. About four o'clock Esther saw Mrs. Barfield, Miss Mary, and Peggy walk across the yard towards the garden, and as Esther had to go soon after to the woodshed, she saw Peggy slip out of the garden by a bottom gate and make her way through the evergreens. Esther hastened back to the kitchen, and stood waiting for the bell to ring. She had not to wait long, the bell tinkled, but so faintly the Esther said, she only just touched it. It is a signal. He was on the lookout for it. She did not want anyone else to hear. Esther remembered the thousands of pounds she had heard that the young lady possessed, and the beautiful dresses she wore. There was no hope for her. How could there be? Her poor little wages, and her print dress. He would never look at her again. But, oh, how cruel and wicked it was! How could one who had so much to come to steal from one who had so little? Oh, it was very cruel and very wicked! And no good would come of it, either to her or to him. Of that she felt sure. God always punished the wicked. She knew he did not love Peggy. It was sin and shame, and after his promises, after what happened, never would she have believed him to be so false. Then her thought turned to passionate hatred of the girl who had so cruelly robbed her. He had gone through that bay's door, and no doubt he was sitting by Peggy in the new drawing-room. He had gone where she could not follow. He had gone where the grand folks lived in idleness, in the sinfulness of the world and the flesh, eating and gambling, thinking of nothing else, and with servants to wait on them, obeying their orders and saving them from every trouble. She knew that these fine folks thought servants inferior beings. But was she not of the same flesh and blood as they? Peggy wore a fine dress, but she was no better. Take off her dress and they were the same, woman to woman. She pushed through the door and walked down the passage. A few steps brought her to the foot of a polished oak staircase, lit by a large window in colored glass, on either side of which there were statues. The staircase sloped slowly to an imposing landing set out with columns and blue bases and embroidered curtains. The girl saw these things vaguely, and she was conscious of a profusion of rugs, matting and bright doors, and of her inability to decide which door was a drawing-room door, the drawing-room of which she had heard so much, and where even now, amid gold furniture and sweet-scented air, William listened to the wicked woman who had tempted him away from her. Suddenly William appeared, and seeing Esther he seemed uncertain whether to draw back or come forward. Then his face took an expression of mixed fear and anger, and coming rapidly toward her he said, What are you doing here? Then changing his voice. This is against the rules of the house. I want to see her. Anything else? What do you want to say to her? I won't have it, I tell you. What do you mean by spying after me? That's your game, is it? I want to speak to her. With averted face the young lady fled up the oak staircase, her hanger chipped to her lips. Esther made a movement as if to follow, but William prevented her. She turned and walked down the passage and entered the kitchen. Her face was one-tint white, her short, strong arms hung tremblingly, and William saw that it would be better to temper eyes. Now look here, Esther, he said.   Now if Miss Margaret continued, William, head.  I am, at that moment, the steel of a large, sharp-pointed knife lying on the table caught her eye. She snatched it up, and seeing blood she rushed at him. William retreated from her, and Mrs. Latch, coming suddenly in, caught her arm. Esther threw the knife. It struck the wall, falling with a rattle on the meat screen. Escaping from Mrs. Latch, she rushed to secure it, but her strength gave way, and she fell back in a dead faint. What have you been doing to the girls, said Mrs. Latch? Nothing, mother. We had a few words, that was all. She said I should not go out with Sarah. That is not true. I can read the lie in your face. A girl doesn't take up a knife unless a man well-nigh drives her mad. That's right, always side against your son. If you don't believe me, get what you can out of her yourself. And turning on his heel, he walked out of the house. Mrs. Latch saw him pass down the yard towards the stables, and when Esther opened her eyes, she looked at Mrs. Latch, questioningly, unable to understand why the old woman was standing by her. Are you better now, dear? Yes, but what? Then remember and struggled back. Is he gone? Did I strike him? I remember that I... You did not hurt him. I don't want to see him again. Far better not. I was mad. I did not know what I was doing. You will tell me about it another time, dear. Where is he? Tell me that. I must know. Gone to the stables, I think. But you must not go after him. You'll see him tomorrow. I do not want to go after him. But he isn't hurt? That's what I want to know. No, he isn't hurt. You're getting stronger. Lean on me. You'll begin to feel better when you are in bed.  Yes, I shall be all right presently. But how will you manage to get the dinner? Don't you worry about that. You go upstairs and lie down. A desolate hope floated over the surface of her brain that William might be brought back to her. In the evening the kitchen was full of people. Margaret, Sarah, and Grover were there. And she heard that immediately after lunch Mr. Leopold had been sent for. And the gaffer had instructed him to pay William a month's wages and see that he left the house that very instant. Sarah, Margaret, and Grover watched Esther's face and were surprised at her indifference. She even seemed pleased. She was pleased. Nothing better could have happened. William was now separated from her rival and released from her bad influence. He would return to his real love. At the first sign she would go to him. She would forgive him. But a little later, when the dishes came down from the dining-groom, it was whispered that Peggy was not there. Later in the evening when the servants were going to bed, it became known that she had left the house, that she had taken the six o'clock to Brighton. Esther turned from the foot of the stair with a wild look. Margaret caught her. It's of no use, dear. You can do nothing tonight. I can walk to Brighton. No, you can't. You don't know the way. And even if you did, you don't know where they are. Neither Sarah nor Grover made any remark. And in silence the servants went to their rooms. Margaret closed the door and turned to look at Esther, who had fallen on the chair, her eyes fixed in vacancy. I know what it is. I was the same when Jim's story got the sack. It seems as if one couldn't live through it, and yet one does somehow. I wonder if they'll marry. Most probable, she has a lot of money. Two days after, a cab stood in the yard in front of the kitchen window. Peggy's luggage was being piled upon it. Two large, handsome basket boxes with the initials painted on them. Nealing on the box seat, the coachman leaned over the roof, making room for another. A small box covered with red cowhide and tied with a rough rope. The little box and its poor simplicity brought William back to Esther, welcoming her for a moment and so acute a sense of her loss that she had to leave the kitchen. She went into the scullery, drew the door after her, sat down, and hid her face in her apron. A stifled sobber, too, and then she recovered her habitual gravity of expression and continued her work as if nothing had happened. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of Esther Waters. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Bridget. Esther Waters by George Moore. Chapter 12. They're just crazy about it upstairs. Ginger and the Gaffer are the worst. They say they had better sell the place and build another house somewhere else. None of the county people will call on them now, and just as they were beginning to get on so well, Miss Mary, too, is terrible caught up about it. She says it will interfere with her prospects and that Ginger has nothing to do now but to marry the kitchen maid to complete the rune of the barfields. Miss Mary is far too kind to say anything to wound another's feelings. It is only a nasty old deceitful thing like yourself who could think of such a thing. Hey, you've got it there, my lady, said Sarah, who had had a difference with Grover and was anxious to avenge it. Grover looked at Sarah in astonishment and her look clearly said, is everyone going to side with that little kitchen maid? Then to flatter Mrs. Latch, Sarah spoke of the position the latches had held three generations ago. The barfields were then nobodies. They had nothing even now but their money and that had come out of a livery stable. And it shows, too, just compared Ginger with young Preston or young Northcote. Anyone could tell the difference. Esther listened with an unmoved face and a heavy ache in her heart. She had now not an enemy, nor yet an opponent, the cause of rivalry and jealousy being removed. All were sorry for her. They recognized that she had suffered and was suffering. And seeing none but friends about her, she was led to think how happy she might have been in this beautiful house, if it had not been for William. She loved her work, for she was working for those she loved. She could imagine no life happier than hers might have been. But she had sinned and the Lord had punished her for her sin and she must bear her punishment uncomplainingly, giving him thanks that he had imposed no heavier one upon her. Such reflection was the substance of Esther's mind for three months after William's departure. And in the afternoons, about three o'clock, when her work paused, Esther's thoughts would congregate and settle on the great misfortune of her life, William's desertion. It was one afternoon at the beginning of December, Mrs. Latch had gone upstairs to lie down. Esther had drawn her chair towards the fire, a broken-down racehorse, his legs bandaged from his knees to his vet locks, had passed up the yard. He was going for walking exercise on the downs. And when the sound of his hoofs had died away, Esther was quite alone. She sat on her wooden chair, facing the wide kitchen window. She had advanced one foot on the iron fender.  She did not think. Her mind was lost and vague sensation of William. And it was in this death of active memory that something awoke within her, something that seemed to her like a flutter of wings. Her heart seemed to drop from its socket and she nearly fainted away. But recovering herself, she stood by the kitchen table, her arms drawn back and pressed to her sides, a death-like pallor over her face and drops of sweat on her forehead. The truth was born in upon her. She realized in a moment part of the awful drama that awaited her and from which nothing could free her and which she would have to live through hour by hour. So dreadful did it seem that she thought her brain must give way. She would have to leave Woodview. Oh, the shame of confession. Mrs. Barfield, who had been so good to her and who thought so highly of her. Her father would not have her at home. She would be homeless in London. No hope of obtaining a situation. They would send her away without a character, homeless in London, and every month her position growing more desperate. A sickly faintness crept up through her. The flesh had come to the relief of the spirit and she sank upon her chair, almost unconscious. Sick, it seemed, to death. And she rose from the chair, wiping her forehead slowly with her apron. She might be mistaken. And she hid her face in her hands and then, falling on her knees, her arms thrown forward upon the table, she prayed for strength to walk without flinching under any cross that he had thought fit to lay upon her. There was still the hope that she might be mistaken and this hope lasted for one week, for two, but at the end of the third week it perished and she abandoned herself in prayer. She prayed for strength to endure with courage what she now knew she must endure and she prayed for light to guide her in her present decision. Mrs. Barfield, however much she might pity her, could not keep her once she knew the truth, whereas none might know the truth if she did not tell it. She might remain at wood view earning another quarter's wages. The first she had spent on boots and clothes, the second she had just been paid. If she stayed on for another quarter, she would have eight pounds and without money and much less time to keep herself. She might be able to pull through. But would she be able to go undetected for nearly three whole months until her next wages came due? She must risk it. Three months of constant fear and agonizing suspense were away and no one, not even Margaret, suspected Esther's condition. Encouraged by her success and seeing still very little sign of change in her person and as every penny she could earn was a vital consequence in the coming time Esther determined to risk another month. Then she would give notice and leave. Another month passed and Esther was preparing for departure when a whisper went round and before she could take steps to leave she was told that Mrs. Barfield wished to see her in the library. Esther turned a little pale and the expression of her face altered. It seemed to her impossible to go before Mrs. Barfield and admit her shame. Margaret, who was standing near and saw what was passing in her mind said, "'Pull yourself together, Esther. "'You know the saint. "'She's not a bad sort. "'Like all the real good ones "'she is kind enough to the faults of others.' "'What's this? "'What's the matter with Esther?' said Mrs. Latch, "'who had not yet heard of Esther's misfortune. "'I'll tell you presently, Mrs. Latch. "'Go, dear, get it over.' Esther hurried down the passage and passed through the bay's door without further thought. She had then but to turn to the left and a few steps would bring her to the library door. The room was already present in her mind. She could see it. The dim light, the little green sofa, the round table covered with books, the piano at the back, the para in the corner, and the canaries in the window. She knocked at the door. The well-known voice said, "'Come in.' She turned to the handle and found herself alone with her mistress. Mrs. Barfield lay down the book she was reading and looked up.  "'Is this true, Esther?' Esther hung down her head. She could not speak it first. Then she said, "'Yes. I thought you were a good girl, Esther.' So did I, ma'am. Mrs. Barfield looked at the girl quickly, hesitated a moment, and then said, "'And all this time, how long is it? Nearly seven months, ma'am. And all this time you were deceiving us. I was three months gone before I knew it myself, ma'am. Three months? Then for three months you have knelt every Sunday in prayer in this room for twelve Sundays you sat by me learning to read, and you never said a word.  She said, "'Had I told you, you would have sent me away then and there. I had only a quarter's wages, and should have starved or gone and drowned myself. I'm sorry to hear you speak like that, Esther. It is trouble that makes me, ma'am, and I have had a great deal. Why did you not confide in me? I have not shown myself cruel to you, have I? No, indeed, ma'am. You were the best mistress a servant ever had, but— But what? Why, ma'am, it is this way. I hated being deceitful. Indeed, I did. But I can no longer think of myself. There is another to think for now." There was in Mrs. Barfield's book something akin to admiration, and she felt she had not been wholly wrong in her estimate of the girl's character. She said, and in a different intonation, "'Perhaps you were right, Esther. I couldn't have kept you on, on account of the bad example to the younger servants. I might have helped you with money. But six months alone in London and in your condition, I am glad you did not tell me, Esther, and as you say there is another to think of now, I hope you will never neglect your child if God give it to you alive. I hope not, ma'am. I shall try and do my best.  A girl like you, and only twenty.  May God give you courage to bear up in your adversity. I know there is many a hard time before me, but I have prayed for strength, and God will give me strength, and I must not complain. My case is not so bad as many another. I have nearly eight pounds. I shall get on, ma'am. That is to say, if you will stand by me and not refuse me a character. Can I give you a character? You were tempted, you were led into temptation. I ought to have watched over you better. Mine is the responsibility. Tell me, it was not your fault. It is always a woman's fault, ma'am, but he should not have deserted me as he did. That's the only thing I reproach him with. The rest was my fault. I shouldn't have touched the second glass of ale. Besides, I was in love with him, and you know what that is. I thought no harm, and I let him kiss me. He used to take me out for walks on the hill and round the farm. He told me he loved me, and would make me his wife. That's how it was. Afterwards, he asked me to wait till after the ledger, and that riled me, and I knew then how wicked I had been. I would not go out with him or speak to him any more. And while our quarrel was going on, Miss Peggy went after him. And that's how I got left. At the mention of Peggy's name, a cloud passed over Mrs. Barfield's face.  I knew nothing of all this. So he said he would marry you if he won his bet on the ledger. Oh, that betting. I know that nothing else is thought of here, upstairs and downstairs. The whole place is poisoned with it, and it is the fault of... Mrs. Barfield walked hurriedly across the room. But when she turned, the sight of Esther provoked her into speech. I have seen it all my life, nothing else, and I have seen nothing come of it but sin and sorrow. You are not the first victim. Ah, what ruin, what misery, what death! Mrs.  I think, ma'am, if you will excuse my saying so, that a great deal of harm do come from this betting on resources. The day when you was all away at Goodwood when the horse won, I went down to see what the sea was like here. I was brought up by the seaside at Barnstaple. On the beach I met Mrs. Leopold, that is to say Mrs. Randall, John's wife. She seemed to be in great trouble. She looked that melancholy, and for company's sake, she asked me to come home to tea with her. She was in that state of mind, ma'am, that she forgot the teaspoons were in pawn, and when she could not give me one, she broke down completely and told me what her troubles had been. What did she tell you, Esther? I hardly remember, ma'am, but it was all the same thing, ruin if the horse didn't win, and more betting if he did. But she said they never had been in such a fix as the day Silverbrade won. If he had been beaten, they would have been thrown out on the street, and from what I have heard, the best half of the town, too. So that little man has suffered. I thought he was wiser than the rest. This house has been the ruin of the neighborhood. We have dispensed vice instead of righteousness. Walking towards the window, Mrs. Barfield continued to talk to herself. I have struggled against the evil all my life and without result. How much more misery shall I see come of it? Turning then to Esther, she said, yes, the betting is an evil, one from which many have suffered, but the question is now about yourself, Esther. How much money have you? I have about eight pounds, ma'am, and how much do you reckon we'll see you through it? I don't know, ma'am. I have no experience. I think Father will let me stay at home if I can pay my way. I could manage easily on seven shillings a week. When my time comes, I shall go to the hospital. While Esther spoke, Mrs. Barfield calculated roughly that about 10 pounds would meet most of her wants. Her train fare, two months board at seven shillings a week, the room which she would have to take near the hospital before her confinement and to which she would return with her baby. All these would run to about four or five pounds. There would be babies close to buy. If she gave four pounds, Esther would have then 12 pounds and with that she would be able to manage. Mrs. Barfield went over to an old fashioned escriture and pulling out some small drawers took from one some paper packages which she unfolded. Now, my girl, look here. I'm going to give you four pounds. Then you will have 12 and that ought to see you through your trouble. You have been a good servant, Esther. I like you very much and I'm truly sorry to part with you. You will write and tell me how you are getting on and if one of these days you want a place and I have one to give you, I shall be glad to take you back. Harshness deadened and hardened her feelings. Yet she was easily moved by kindness and she longed to throw herself at her mistress's feet. But her nature did not admit of such effusion and she said in her blunt English way, you are far too good, ma'am. I do not deserve such treatment. I know I don't. Say no more, Esther. I hope that the Lord may give you strength to bear your cross.  But Esther, do you feel your sin?  Yes, ma'am. I think I can say all that. Then Esther, come and kneel down and pray to God to give you strength in the future to stand against temptation. Mrs. Barfields took Esther's hand and they knelt down by the round table, leaning their hands on its edge. And in a high, clear voice, Mrs. Barfield prayed aloud, Esther repeating the words after her, Dear Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest how thy servant has strayed and has fallen into sin. But thou hast said there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just men. Therefore, Lord, kneeling here before thee, we pray that this poor girl, who repents of the evil she has done, may be strengthened in thy mercy to stand firm against temptation, forgive her sin, even as thou forgavest the woman of Samaria, give her strength to walk uprightly before thee and give her strength to bear the pain and the suffering that lie before her. The women rose from their knees and stood looking at each other.  Without speaking, she turned to go. One word more, Esther. You asked me just now for a character. I hesitated, but it seems to me now that it would be wrong to refuse. If I did, you might never get a place and then it would be impossible to say what might happen. I am not certain that I am doing right, but I know what it means to refuse to give a servant a character and I cannot take upon myself the responsibility. Mrs. Barfield wrote out a character for Esther in which she described her as an honest, hardworking girl. She paused at the word revival and wrote instead, I believe her to be at heart a thoroughly religious girl. She went upstairs to pack her box and when she came down, she found all the women in the kitchen. Evidently they were waiting for her. Coming forward, Sarah said, I hope we shall part friends, Esther. Any curls we may have had. There's no ill feeling now, is there? I bear no one any ill feeling. We have been frenzies last months. Indeed, everyone has been very kind to me and Esther kissed Sarah on both cheeks. I'm sure we're all sorry to lose you, said Margaret, pressing forward and we hope you'll write and let us know how you are getting on.  Esther shook hands with Grover and then her eyes met Mrs. Latches. The old woman took her in her arms. It breaks my heart to think that anyone belonging to me should have done you such a wrong. But if you want for anything, let me know and you shall have it. You will want money. I have some here for you. Thank you, thank you, but I have all I want. Mrs. Barfield has been very good to me. The babbling of so many voices drew Mr. Leopold from the pantry. He came with a glass of beer in his hand and the suggested a toast to Sarah. Let's drink baby's health, she said. Mr. Leopold won't refuse us the beer. The idea provoked some good-natured laughter and Esther hid her face in her hands and tried to get away, but Margaret would not allow her. What nonsense, she said. We don't think any the worse of you. Why, that's an accident that might happen to any of us. I hope not, said Esther. The jug of beer was finished. She was kissed and hugged again. Some tears were shed and Esther walked down the yard through the stables. The avenue was full of wind and rain. The branches creaked dulphily overhead. The lane was drenched and the bare fields were fringed with white mist and the houses seemed very desolate by the bleak sea and the girl's soul was as desolate as the landscape. She had come to Woodview to escape the suffering of a home which had become unendurable and she was going back in circumstances a hundred times worse than those in which she had left it and she was going back with the memory of the happiness she had lost. All the grief and trouble that girls of her class have so frequently to bear gathered in Esther's heart when she looked out of the railway carriage window and saw for the last time the stiff plantations on the downs and the angles of the Italian house between the trees. She drew her handkerchief from her jacket and hid her distress as well as she could from the other occupants of the carriage. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of Esther Waters This is a library box recording. All library box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librarybox.org. Recording by Peter Abraham. Esther Waters by George Moore. Chapter 13. When she arrived at Victoria, it was raining.  She had left her box in the cloakroom for she did not know if her father would have her at home. Her mother would tell her what she thought, but no one could say for certain what he would do. If she brought the box, he might fling it after her into the street. Better come without it, even if she had to go back through the wet to fetch it. At that moment, another gust drove the rain violently over her, forcing it through her boots. The sky was a tint of ashen gray and all the low brick buildings were veiled in vapor. The rough roadway was full of pools and nothing was heard but the melancholy bell of the tram car. She hesitated, not wanting to spend a penny unnecessarily, but remembering that a penny-wise is often a pound foolish, she called to the driver and got in. The car passed by the little brick street where the Saunders lived and when Esther pushed the door open, she could see into the kitchen and hear the voices of the children. Mrs. Saunders was sweeping down the stairs, but at the sound of footsteps, she ceased to bang the broom and, stooping till her head looked over the banisters, she cried. Who is it? Me, mother. What? You, Esther? Yes, mother. Mrs. Saunders hastened down and, leaning the broom against the wall, she took her daughter in her arms and kissed her. Well, this is nice to see you again after this long while, but you are looking a bit poorly, Esther. Then her face changed expression. What has happened? Have you lost your situation? Yes, mother. Oh, I am that sorry, but we thought that you were so happy there and liked your mistress above all those you had ever met with. Did you lose your temper and answer her back? There is often trying. I know that. And your own temper. You was never very sure of it. I have no fault to find with my mistress. She's the kindest in the world, none better. And my temper, it wasn't that, mother. My own darling, tell me. Esther paused. The children had seized talking in the kitchen and the front door was open. Come into the parlour. We can talk quietly there. When do you expect father home? Not for the best part of a couple of hours yet. Mrs. Saunders waited until Esther had closed the front door. Then they went into the parlour and sat down side by side on the little horse air sofa placed against the wall facing the window. The anxiety in their hearts betrayed itself on their faces. I had to leave, mother. I'm seven months gone. Oh, Esther, Esther, I cannot believe it. Yes, mother, it is quite true. Esther hurried through a story and when her mother questioned her regarding details, she said, oh, mother, what does it matter? I don't care to talk about it more than I can help. Tears had begun to roll down Mrs. Saunders' cheeks and when she wiped them away with the corner of her apron, Esther heard a sob. Don't cry, mother, said Esther. I have been very wicked. I know, but God will do good to me. I always pray to him, just as you taught me to do and I dare say I shall get through my troubles somehow. Your father will never let you stop here. He'll say just as a fork that there be too many months to fear as it is. I don't want him to keep me for nothing. I know well enough that if I did that, he'd put me outside quick enough, but I can pay my way. I earned good money while I was with the barfields and though she did tell me I must go, Mrs. Barfield, the saint they call her and she is the saint if there ever was one, gave me four pounds to see me as she said through my trouble. I have better than 11 pound. Don't cry, mother dear. Crying won't do no good and I want you to help me. So long as the money holds out, I can get a lodging anywhere, but I'd like to be near you and father might be glad to let me have the parlour and my food for 10 or 11 shillings a week. I could afford as much as that and he never was the man to turn good money away from his door. Do you think he will? I don't know, dearie. It's hard to say what he'll do. He's a hard man to live with. I've had a terrible time of it lately and then babies, all is coming. Ah, we poor women have more than our right to bear with. Poor mother, said Esther and taking her mother's hand in hers, she passed her arm around her and drew her closer and kissed her. I know what he was. Is he any worse now? Well, I think he drinks more and is even rougher. It was only the other day that I was attending to his dinner.  He sees me do it and he cries out. Now then, cuts, what are you interfering with my dinner for?  Well, then taste that, he says, and strikes me clean between the eyes. Ah, yes, lucky for you to be in service. You have forgot by now what we've to put up with here. He was always that soft with his mother. He never touched me since I dashed the hot water in his face. Sometimes I think I can bear it no longer, Esther, and long to go and drown myself. Jenny and Julia, you remember little Julia? She has grown up such a big girl and is getting on so well. They are both at work now in the kitchen. Johnny gives us a deal of trouble. He cannot tell a word of truth. Father took off his strap the other day and beat him dreadful, but it ain't no use. If it wasn't for Jenny and Julia, I don't think we would ever make both ends meet. But they works all day at the dogs and at the warehouse their dogs is said to be neater and more lifelike than any other. Their poor fingers is worn away cramming the paper into the molds. But they never complains. No more shouldn't I if he were a bit gentler and didn't take more than half of what he earns to the public house. I was glad he was away, Esther. For you always was of a nasty temper and couldn't have born it. I don't want to make my troubles seem worse than they be, but sometimes I think I will break up. Especially when I get to thinking what will become of us and all them children, money growing less and expenses increasing. I haven't told you, but I dare say you have noticed that another one is coming. It is the children that breaks us poor women down altogether. Ah, yes, yours be the hardest trouble, but you must put a brave face on it. We'll do the best we can. None of us can say no more. Mrs. Saunders wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. Esther looked at her with her usual quiet stubborn stare and without further words, mother and daughter went into the kitchen where the girls were at work. It was a long, low room with one window looking out on a small backyard at the back of which was a coal hole, the dustbin and a small outhouse. There was a long table and a bench ran along the wall. The fireplace was on the left-hand side. The dresser stood against the opposite wall and amid the poor crockery, the child about in every available space were the toy dogs, some no larger than your hand, others almost as large as a small poodle. Jenny and Julia had been working busily for some days and were now finishing the last few that remained of the order they had received from the shop they worked for. Three small children sat on the floor tearing the brown paper, which they handed as it was wanted to Jenny and Julia. The big girls leaned over the table in front of the iron molds, filling them with brown paper, pasting it down, and packing it between strong and dexterous fingers. Why? It is Esther, said Jenny, the elder girl, and locks. Ain't she grand? Quite the lady. Why? We hardly know, dear. And having kissed their sister circumspectly, careful not to touch the clothes they admired with their pasty fingers, they stood lost in contemplation, thrilled with consciousness of the advantage of service. Esther took Harry, a fine little boy of four, up in her arms and asked him if he remembered her. No, I don't think I do. Will you put me down? But you do, Lizzie? She said, addressing a girl of seven whose bright red hair shone like a lamp in the gathering twilight. Yes, you're my big sister. You've been away this year or more in service. And you, Maggie, do you remember me too? Maggie at first seemed doubtful, but after a moment's reflection, she nodded her head vigorously. Come, Esther, see how Julia's getting on, said Mrs. Saunders. She makes her dogs nearly as fast as Jenny. She's still a bit careless in drawing the paper into the molds. Well, just I was speaking of it. He has a dog with one shoulder just half the size of the other. Oh, mother, I'm sure nobody'd never know the difference. Wouldn't know the difference. Just look at the animal. Is it natural? Such carelessness I never see. Esther, just look at Julia's dog. He hasn't got no more than half a shoulder. It's lucky, mother, saw it. For if the manager had seen it, either I found something wrong with it. I don't know how many more, and doctors may be a shilling or more on the week's work. Julia began to cry. Jenny is always down on me. She's jealous just because mother said I worked as fast as she did. If her work was overhauled, there are all my dogs there on the right-hand side of the dresser. I always ask the rights for my dogs. And if you find one there with an uneven shoulder, I'll...  That's why she stuffs so much paper into her dogs. It was little Ethel speaking from her corner, and her explanation of the excellence of Jenny's dogs, given with solid childish gravity in the interval of tearing a large sheet of brown paper made them laugh. But in the midst of the laughter, thought of her great trouble came upon Esther. Mrs. Saunders noticed this, and a look of pity came into her eyes. And to make an end of the unseemly gaity, she took Julia's dog and told her that it must be put into the mold again. She cut the skin away and helped to force the stiff paper over the edge of the mold. Now, she said, it is a dog. Both shoulders is equal. And if it was a real dog, he could walk. Oh, Bada! cried Jenny. I shan't be able to finish my last dozen this evening. I have no more buttons for the eyes. And the black pins that Julia is using off for her little one won't do for this size. Won't they give you any at the shop? I was counting on the money they would bring to finish the week with. No, we can't get no buttons in the shop. That's homework, they says. And even if they add them, they wouldn't let us put them in there. That's homework they says to everything. They is that a disagreeable lot. But haven't you got sixpence, mother? And I'll run and get them. No, I've run short. But, said Esther, I'll give you sixpence to get your buttons with. Yes, that's it. Give us sixpence and you shall have it back tomorrow if you are here. How long are you here up for? If not, we'll send it. I'm not going back just yet. What? Have you lost your situation? No, no, said Mrs. Saunders. Esther ain't well. She has come up for her health. Take the sixpence and run along. May I go too, said Julia. I've been at work since eight and I have only a few more dogs to do. Yes, you may go with your sister. Run along, don't bother me anymore. I've got to get your father supper. When Jenny and Julia had left, Esther and Mrs. Saunders could talk freely. The other children were too young to understand. There is time when he is well enough, said Mrs. Saunders, and others when he is that awful. It is hard to know how to get him, but he is to be got if he only knew how. Sometimes, this most surprising how easy he do take things. And at others, well, as about that piece of stick that I was telling you of, should you catch him in that humor, he's as like as not to take he by the shoulder and put you out. But if he be in a good humor, he's as like as not to say, well, my gal, make yourself at home. He can, but turn me out. I'll leave you to speak to him, mother. I'll do my best, but I don't answer for nothing. A nice bit of supper do make a difference in him. And as ill luck would have it, I have nothing but a rasher. Whereas if only I had a bit of steak, he'd brighten up the moment he clapped his eyes on it and become that cheerful. But mother, if you think it will make a difference, I can easily slip around to the butchers and yes, get half a pound. And when it's nicely cooked and inside him, it'll make all the difference. That will please him, but I don't like to see you spending your money, money that you'd want badly. It can't be helped, mother. I shan't be above a minute or two anyway.  Coming back, she met Jenny and Julia. And when she told them her purchases, they remarked significantly that they were now quite sure of a pleasant evening. When he's done eating, he'll go out to smoke his pipe with some of his chaps, said Jenny. And we shall have the house to ourselves. And you can tell us about your situation. They keeps a butler and a footman, don't they? They must be grand folk. What was the footman like? Was he very handsome? I've heard that they all is. And you'll show us your dresses, won't you? Said Julia. How many have you got? And how did you manage to save up enough money to buy such beauties, if they're all like that? This dress was given to me by Miss Mary. Was it? She must be a real good one. I should like to go to service. I'm tired of making dogs. We have to work that hard. And it nearly all goes to the public. Father drinks worse than ever. Mrs. Saunders approved of Esther's purchase. It was a beautiful bit of steak.  And a few minutes after, the meat was roasting on the gridiron. The clock continued its course ticking amid the rough plates on the dresser. Jenny and Julia hastened with their work, pressing the paper with nervous fingers into the molds, calling sharply to the little group for what size paper they required. Esther and Mrs. Saunders waited, full of apprehension, for the sound of a heavy tread in the passage. At last it came. Mrs. Saunders turned the meat, hoping that its savoury odour would greet his nostrils from afar. And he would come to them, mollified and amiable. Hello, Jim. You are home a bit earlier today. I'm not quite ready with your supper. I don't know that I am. Hello, Esther. Up for the day. Smells damned nice. What are you cooking for me, Mrs? What is it? Bit of steak, Jim. It seems a beautiful piece. Hope it will eat tender. That it will. I was afraid you would have nothing more than a rasha and that I am that hungry. Jim Saunders was a stout, dark man of 40. He had not shaved for some days. His face was black with beard. His moustache was cut into bristle. Around his short bull neck, he wore a ragged comforter and his blue jacket was shabby and dusty and the trousers were worn at the heels. He threw his basket into a corner and then himself on the rough bench nailed against the wall. And there, without speaking another word, he lay sniffing the odor of the meat like an animal going to be fed. Suddenly, a whiff from the beer jug came into his nostrils and reaching out his rough hand, he looked into the jug to assure himself he was not mistaken. What's this? He exclaimed. A pint of porter. You are doing me pretty well this evening, I reckon. What's up? Nothing, Jim. Nothing there. But just as Esther has come up, we thought we'd try and make her comfortable. It was Esther who fetched it. She has been doing pretty well and can afford it. Jim looked at Esther in a sort of vague and brutal assonishment and feeling he must say something and not knowing well what. He said, well, here's to your good health. And he took a long pull at the jug. Where did you get this? In Durham Street at the Angel. I thought as much. They don't sell stuff like this at the Rose and Crown. Well, much obliged here. I shall enjoy my bit of steak now and I see a tater in the cinders. How are you getting on, old woman? Is it nearly done? You know I don't like all the goodness burnt out of it. It isn't quite done yet, Jim. A few minutes more. Jim sniffed an eager anticipation and then addressed himself to Esther. Well, they seem to do you pretty well down there.  Quite a lady. There's nothing like service for a girl. I've always said so. Hey, Jenny, wouldn't you like to go into service like your sister? Looks better down it than making toy dogs at three and six pence the cross. I should just think it was. I wish I could. As soon as Maggie can take my place, I mean to try. It was the young lady of the house that gave her that nice dress, said Julia. My eye, she must have been a favorite. At that moment, Mrs. Saunders picked the steak from the grid aisle and putting it on a nice hot plate, she carried it in her apron to Jim, saying, mind your hands, it's burning hot. Jim fed in hungry silence, the children watching, regretting that none of them ever had suffers like that. He didn't speak until he had put away the better part of the steak. Then after taking a long pull at the jug of beer, he said, I haven't enjoyed a bit of food like that this many a day. I was that beat when I came in and it does one good to put a piece of honest meat into one stomach after a hard day's work. Then prompted by a sudden thought, he complimented Esther on her looks and then with increasing interest inquired what kind of people she was staying with. But Esther was in no humor for conversation and answered his questions briefly without entering into details. Her reserve only increases curiosity, which fired up at the first mention of the race horses. I scarcely know much about them. I only used to see them passing through the yard as they went to exercise on the downs. There was always a lot of talk about them in the servants hall, but I didn't notice it. They were a great trouble to Mrs. Barfield. I told you, mother, that she was one of ourselves, didn't I?  Give them a rest. What about the horses? Did they win any races? You can't have missed hearing that. Yes, Silverbrate won the Stuart's Cup. Silverbrate was one of your horses. Yes, Mr. Barfield won thousands and thousands. Everyone in short, he won something and a ball for the servants was given in the gardens. And you never thought of writing to me about it. I could have had 30 to one off bill short, one pound, 10 to a Bob. And you never thought it worthwhile to send me the tip. I'm bloat. Girls aren't worth a damn. 30 to one off bill short. He'd have laid it. I remember seeing the price quoted in all the papers. 30 to one taken and offered.  As much as I'd earned in three months, slaving eight and 10 hours a day, I'd paint pot on and about them blooming engines. Well, there's no use crying over what's done. Such a chance will never come again. But something else may. What are they going to do with the horse this autumn? Did you hear that? I think I heard he was entered for the Cambridge Shire. But if I remember rightly, Mr. Leopold, that's the butler, not his real name, but what we call him. Yes, I know, after the baron. What do he say? I reckon he knows. I should like to have half an hour's talk with your Mr. Leopold. What do he say? For what he says, unless I'm pretty well mistaken, is worth listening to. A man wouldn't be wasting his time in listening to him. What do he say? Mr. Leopold never says much. He's the only one the gaffer ever confides in. They said they are thickest thieves, so they say. Mr. Leopold was his confidential servant when the gaffer, that's the squire, was a bachelor, Jim Chuckle. Yes, I think I know what kind of man your Mr. Leopold is like. But what did he say about the Cambridge Shire? He only laughed a little once and said he didn't think the horse would do much good in the autumn races. No, not races, that isn't the word. Handicaps? Yes, that's it. But there's no relying on what Mr. Leopold says. He never says what he really means. But I heard William, that's the footman. What are you stopping for? What did your earm say? That he intends to have something on next spring. Did he say any race? Did he say the city and sub? Yes, that was the race he mentioned. I thought that would be the length and breadth of it, Jim said as he took up his knife and fork. There was only a small portion of the beef steak left. And this he ate gluttonously. And finishing the last remaining beer, he leaned back in the happiness of repulsion. He crammed tobacco into a dirty clay with a dirtier fingernail and said, I'd be uncommon glad to hear how he's getting on. When are you going back? Up for the day only. Esther did not answer. And Jim looked inquiringly as he reached across the table for the matches. The decisive moment had arrived. And Mrs. Saunders said, Esther ain't going back. At least the ways. Not going back. You don't mean that girl incontented in a situation that she has Esther ain't going back no more. Mrs. Saunders answered incautiously. Lookie here, Jim. Out with it, old woman. No unbuckle. What is it all about? Ain't going back to a situation. And where she has been treated like that? Just look at the dirt she has got on. The evening was darkening rapidly. And the firelight flickered over the back of the toy dogs piled up on the dresser. Jim had lit his pipe and the accurate and warm odor of quickly burning tobacco overpowered the smell of grease and the burnt skin of the potato, a fragment of which remained on the plate. Only the sickly flavor of drying paste was distinguishable in the reek of the short black clay which the man held firmly between his fingers. Esther sat by the fire. Her hands crossed over her knees. No signs of emotion on her sullen plump face. Mrs. Saunders stood on the other side of Esther, between her and the younger children, now quarreling among themselves.  Now then old woman, blooded out, he said. What is it? Can it be the girl has lost a situation? Got her sack? Yes. I see that's about the cut of it. A beastly temper. So they couldn't put up with it in the country anymore than I could myself. Well, it's her own lookout. If she can afford to chuck up a place like that, so much the better for her. Pity though. She might have put me up to many a good thing. It ain't that, Jim. The girl is in trouble. What do you say? Esther in trouble? Well, that's the best bit I've heard this long while. I always told you the religious ones were just the same as the others. A bit more hypocritical, that's all. So she that wouldn't have nothing to do with such as was Mrs. Dunbar has got herself into trouble. Well, I never. But this is just what I always suspected. The goody-goody sort are the worst. So she has got herself in trouble. Well, she'll have to get herself out of it. Now, Jim dear, you mustn't be hard on her. She could tell a very different story if she wished it. But you know what she is. There she sits like a block of marble and won't say as much a word in her own defense. But I don't want her to speak. I don't care. It is nothing to me. I only laugh because, Jim dear, it is something to all of us. What we thought was that you might let her stop here till her time was come to go to the hospital. Oh, that's it, is it? That was the meaning of the pound of steak and the pint of porter, was it? I thought there was something up. So she wants to stop here, do she? As if there wasn't enough already. Well, I'll be bloated if she do. A nice thing too. A girl can't go away to service without coming back to a respectable home in trouble. In trouble, she calls it. No, I won't have it. There's enough here as it is. And another one coming, worse luck. We once know bastards here. And a nice example too for the other children. No, I won't have it. Jenny and Julia look curiously at Esther who sat quite still. Her face showing no sign of emotion. Mrs. Saunders turned towards her. A pitting look on her face saying clearly. You see my poor girl, how matters stand. I can do nothing. The girl, although she did not raise her eyes, understood what was passing in her mother's mind. For there was a grave deliberativeness in the manner in which she rose from the chair. But just as the daughter had guessed what was passing in her mother's mind, so did the mother guess what was passing in the daughter's. Mrs. Saunders threw herself before Esther saying, oh no Esther, wait a moment. He won't be our only, then turning to our husband. You don't understand, Jim. It is only for a little time. No, I tell ya. No, I won't have it. There'll be too many here as it is. Only for a little while, Jim. No, and those who ain't wanted at better go at once. That's my advice to them. This place is as full of us that we can hardly turn around as it is. No, I won't hear of it. But Jim, Esther is quite willing to pay her way. She saved a good little sum of money and could afford to pay us 10 shillings a week for the board and the parlor. A perplexed look came on Jim's face. Why didn't you tell me that before? Of course, I don't wish to be hard on the girl. As you have just heard me say, 10 shillings a week for a board and the parlor. That seems fair enough. And if it's any convenience to her to remain, I'm sure we'll be glad to have her. I'll say right glad too. He was always good friends, Esther, wasn't we? Though he wasn't one of my own. So saying, Jim held out his hand. Esther tried to pass by her mother. I don't want to stop when I'm not wanted. I want no one's charity. Let me go, mother. No, no, Esther. Haven't you heard what he says?  And it would break my heart that it would to see you go away amongst strangers. The place is among your own people. Who look after you? Now then, Esther, why would there be ill feeling? I didn't mean any harm. There's a lot of us here. And I have to think of the interests of my own. But for all that, I should be main sorry to see her take your money amongst strangers. Where you wouldn't get no value for it. You'd better stop. I'm sorry for what I said. Ain't that enough for you? Jim, Jim dear. Don't say no more. Leave her to me. Esther, for my sake, stop with us. You are in trouble. And it is right for you to stop with me. Jim has said no more than the truth. With all the best will in the world, we couldn't afford to keep you for nothing. But since you can pay away, it is your duty to stop. Think, Esther dear, think. Go and shake hands with him. And I'll go and make you up a bed on the sofa. There's no bloody need for her to shake my hand if she don't like, Jim replied. And he pulled doggedly at his pipe. Esther tried, but her fierce and heavy temper held her back. She couldn't go to her father for reconciliation. And the matter might have ended quite differently. But suddenly, without a word, Jim put on his hat and went out to join his chaps who were waiting for him about the public house, close to the cab rank in the Vauxhall Bridge Road. The door was hardly closed behind him when the young children laughed and ran about joyously. And Jenny and Julia went over to Esther and begged her to stop. Of course she'll stop, said Mrs. Saunders. And now Esther, come along and help me to make you up a bed in the parlour. End of chapter 13, chapter 14 of Esther Waters. This is a library box recording. All library box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librarybox.org. According by Peter Abraham. Esther Waters by George Moore, chapter 14. Esther was fast asleep the next morning when Mrs. Saunders came into the parlour. Mrs. Saunders stood looking at her and Esther turned suddenly on the sofa and said, what time is it, mother? It's gone six. But don't you get up? You're your own mistress whilst you're here.  I can't afford them lazy habits. There's plenty of work here and I must help you with some of it. Plenty of work here, that's right enough. But why should you bother? And you nearly seven months gone. I dare say you feel that heavy that you never care to get out of your chair. But they says that them who works up to the last has the easiest time in the end. Not that I found it so. The conversation paused. Esther threw her legs over the side of the sofa and still wrapped in the blanket, sat looking at her mother. You can't be over comfortable on that bit of sofa, said Miss Saunders. Laura, I can manage right enough, if that was all. You was that cast down, Esther. You mustn't give away. Things sometimes turns out better than one expects. You never found the deed, mother. Perhaps I didn't, but that says nothing for others. We must bear up as best we can. One word led to another and very soon Esther was telling her mother the whole tale of her misfortune. All about William, the sweepstakes, the ball at showroom gardens, the walks about the farm and hillside. Service is no place for a girl who wants to live as we used to live when father was alive. No service that I've seen. I see that plain enough. Mistress was one of the brethren like ourselves and she had to put up with betting and drinking and dancing and never a thought of the Lord. There was no standing out against it.  So you think you'll say them to yourself in bed, but sleep comes sooner than you expect and so you slips out of the habit. Then the drinking. We was brought up tea totally, but they are always pressing it upon you and to please him, I said I would drink the horse's help. That's how it began. You don't know what it is, mother. You only knew God-fearing men until you married them. We aren't all good like you, mother, but I thought no harm, indeed I didn't. A girl can't know what a man is thinking of and we take the worst of the best. I don't say that I was altogether blameless, but you didn't know he was that bad as the hesitated. I knew he was like other men, but he told me. He promised me he'd marry me. Mrs. Saunders did not answer and Esther said, you don't believe I'm speaking the truth. Yes, I do, dearie. I was only thinking, you're my daughter. No mother had a better daughter. There never was a better girl in this world. I was telling you, mother, but I do want no telling that my Esther ain't a bad girl. Mrs. Saunders sat nodding her head, a sweet, uncritical mother, and Esther understood how unselfishly her mother loved her and how simply she thought of how she might help her in her trouble. Neither spoke, and Esther continued dressing. You haven't told me what you think of your room. It looks pretty, don't you think? I keep it as nice as I can. Jenny hung up them pictures. They livened it up a bit, she said, pointing to the colored supplements from the illustrated papers on the wall. The china shepherd and shepherdess, you know, they was at barn's table. When Esther was dressed, she and Mrs. Saunders knelt down and said a prayer together. Then Esther said she would make up her room, and when that was done, she insisted on helping her mother with the housework. In the afternoon, she sat with her sisters, helping them with their dogs, folding the paper into the molds, pasting it down, or cutting the skins into the requisite sizes. About five, when the children had had their tea, she and her mother went for a short walk. Very often, they strolled through Victoria Station, amused by the bustle of the traffic, or maybe they wandered down the Buckingham Palace Road, attracted by the shops. And there was a sad pleasure in these walks. The elder woman had borne years of exceeding trouble, and felt her strength feeling under her birds, which instead of lightning, were increasing. The younger woman was full of nervous apprehension for the future and grief for the past. But they loved each other deeply. Esther threw herself in the way to protect her mother, whether at a dangerous crossing, or from the heedlessness of the crowd at a corner. And often, a passerby turned his head and looked after them, attracted by the solicitude which the younger woman showed for the elder. In those walks, very little was said. They walked in silence, slipping now and then into occasional speech. And here and there, a casual allusion, or a broken sentence would indicate what was passing in their minds. One day, some flannel and shirts in a window caught Mrs. Sonder's eye, and she said, "'It is time, Esther. "'You thought about your baby clothes. "'One must be prepared. "'One never knows if one will go once full-time.'" The words came upon Esther with something of a shock, helping her to realize the imminence of her trouble. "'You must have something by you, dear. "'One never knows how it is going to turn out. "'Even I, who have been through it, do feel that nervous. "'I look round the kitchen when I'm taken with the pains, "'and I says, "'I may never see this room again.' "'The words were said in an undertone to Esther. "'And the shopwoman turned to get down "'the ready-made things which Mrs. Sonder's "'had asked to see.' "'Here,' said the shopwoman, "'is the gown, long cloth, one and six pence. "'Here's the flannel, one and six pence, "'and here is the little shirt, six pence. "'You must have these to go on with, dear. "'And if the baby lives, you'll want another set.' "'Oh, mother, of course he'll live. "'Why shouldn't he?' "'Even the shopwoman smiled, "'and Mrs. Sonder's addressing the shopwoman said, "'them that knows nothing about it "'is always full of hope.' "'The shopwoman raised her eyes, sighed, "'and inquired sympathetically "'if this was the young lady's first confinement. "'Mrs. Sonder's nodded and sighed, "'and then the shopwoman asked Mrs. Sonder's "'if she required any baby clothes. "'Mrs. Sonder said she had all she required. "'The parcel was made up, "'and they were preparing to leave when Esther said, "'I may as well buy the material and make another set. "'It will give me something to do in the afternoons. "'I think I should like to make them. "'We have some first-rate long cloth "'at six pence half penny a yard. "'You might take three yards, Esther. "'If anything should happen to your buy-in, "'it will always come in useful, "'and you had better take three yards of flannel. "'How much is your flannel? "'We have some excellent flannel,' said the woman, "'lifting down a long, heavy package in dull yellow paper. "'This is ten pence a yard. "'You will want a final long cloth for the little shirts.' "'And every afternoon Esther sat in the parlour by the window, "'seeing when she raised her eyes from the sewing, "'the low-brick street full of children, "'and hearing the working women "'calling from the open doors or windows. "'And as she worked at the baby clothes, "'never perhaps to be worn, "'her heart sank at the long prospect that awaited her, "'the end of which she could not see, "'for it seemed to reach to the very end of her life. "'In these hours she realized in some measure "'the duties that life held in store, "'and it seemed to her that they exceeded her strength. "'Never would she be able to bring him up. "'He would have no one to look to but her. "'She never imagined other than that "'her child would be a boy. "'The task was clearly more than she could perform, "'and in despair she thought it would be better for it to die. "'What would happen if she remained out of her situation? "'A father would not have her at home "'that she knew well enough. "'What should she do, "'and the life of another depending on her? "'She would never see William again. "'That was certain. "'He had married a lady, "'and were they to meet, he would not look at her. "'Her temper grew hot, "'and the memory of the injustice "'of which she had been a victim pressed upon her. "'But when vain anger passed away, "'she thought of her baby, "'anticipating the joy she would experience "'when he held out tiny hands to her, "'and that too, which she would feel "'when he laid an innocent sheep to hers. "'And her dream persisting, "'she saw him learning a trade, "'going to work in the morning "'and coming back to her in the evening, "'proud in the accomplishment of something done, "'of good money, honestly earned. "'She thought a great deal too of her poor mother, "'who was looking strangely weak and poorly "'and whose condition was rendered worse "'by her nervous fears "'that she would not get through this confinement. "'For the doctor had told Mrs. Saunders "'that the next time it might go hard with her. "'And in this house, "'her husband growing more reckless and drunken, "'it was altogether a bad lookout, "'and she might die for want of a little nourishment "'or a little care. "'Unfortunately, they would both be down at the same time, "'and it was almost impossible that Esther "'should be well in time to look after her mother. "'That proved. "'It was wrong to think of her father so, "'but he seemed to be without mercy for any of them. "'He had come in yesterday half-boosed, "'having kept back part of his money. "'He had come in cramping and hiccuping. "'Now that an old girl, out with it, "'I must have a few half-pence. "'My chaps is waiting for me, "'and I can't be looking down their mouths "'with nothing in my pockets. "'I only have a few half-pence "'to get the children a bit of dinner. "'If I give them to you, they'll have nothing to eat. "'Oh, the children can eat anything. "'I want beer. "'If you have in the money, make it.' "'Mrs. Saunders said that if he had any spare clothes, "'she would take them round the corner. "'He only answered, "'Well, if I haven't a spare waistcoat left, "'just take some of your own things. "'I tell you, I want beer, and I mean to have some.' "'Then with his fist raised, he came at his poor wife, "'ordering her to take one of the sheets from the bed "'and make money, "'and would have struck her if Esther had not come between them. "'And with a hand in her pocket said, "'Be quiet, Father. "'I'll give you the money you want. "'She had done the same before, "'and if needs be, she would do so again.  "'Her first duty was to save her mother. "'For these constant demands on her little savings "'filled her with terror. "'She would want every penny. "'The 10 shillings he had already had from her "'might be the very sum required "'to put her on her feet again "'and send her in search of a situation "'where she would be able to earn money for the boy. "'But if this extortion continued, "'she did not know what she would do. "'And that night, she prayed that God "'might not delay the birth of her child.'" End of chapter 14.