Esther Waters Part 12

"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?"

A certain harshness in Mrs. Barfield's voice awakened a rebellious spirit in Esther, and a lowering expression gathered above her eyes. 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 are 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 look 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 G.o.d give it to you alive."

"I hope not, ma'am; I shall try and do my best."

"My poor girl! my poor girl! you do not know what trial is in store for you. A girl like you, and only twenty! ...Oh, it is a shame! May G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 gla.s.s 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 Leger, 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 pa.s.sed over Mrs. Barfield's face.

"You have been shamefully treated, my poor child. I knew nothing of all this. So he said he would marry you if he won his bet on the Leger? 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. Barfield covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out the memories that crowded upon her.

"I think, ma'am, if you will excuse my saying so, that a great deal of harm do come from this betting on race-horses. 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. Randal, 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 p.a.w.n, 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 Silver Braid 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 neighbourhood; 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 will 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 ten pounds would meet most of her wants. Her train fare, two month's board at seven shillings a week, the room 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 baby's clothes to buy.... If she gave four pounds Esther would have then twelve pounds, and with that she would be able to manage. Mrs. Barfield went over to an old-fashioned escritoire, 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 twelve, and that ought to see you through your trouble. You have been a good servant, Esther; I like you very much, and am 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.... Now go and pack up your box. But, Esther, do you feel your sin, can you truly say honestly before G.o.d that you repent?"

"Yes, ma'am, I think I can say all that."

"Then, Esther, come and kneel down and pray to G.o.d to give you strength in the future to stand against temptation."

Mrs. Barfield 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, 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. Esther's eyes were full of tears. 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, hard-working girl. She paused at the word "reliable," 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 quarrels we may have had--There's no ill-feeling now, is there?"

"I bear no one any ill-feeling. We have been friends these 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."

Margaret, who was a tender-hearted girl, began to cry, and, kissing Esther, she declared that she had never got on with a girl who slept in her room so well before. Esther shook hands with Grover, and then her eyes met Mrs. Latch's. The old woman took her in her arms.

"It breaks my heart to think that one 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."