Now we sang this song very well the first time, having
the parish choir to lead us, and the clarionet, and
the parson to give us the time with his cup; and we
sang it again the second time, not so but what you
might praise it (if you had been with us all the evening),
although the parson was gone then, and the clerk not
fit to compare with him in the matter of keeping time.
But when that song was in its third singing, I defy
any man (however sober) to have made out one verse
from the other, or even the burden from the verses,
inasmuch as every man present, ay, and woman too,
sang as became convenient to them, in utterance both
of words and tune.
And in truth, there was much excuse for them; because
it was a noble harvest, fit to thank the Lord for,
without His thinking us hypocrites. For we had
more land in wheat, that year, than ever we had before,
and twice the crop to the acre; and I could not help
now and then remembering, in the midst of the merriment,
how my father in the churchyard yonder would have
gloried to behold it. And my mother, who had
left us now, happening to return just then, being called
to have her health drunk (for the twentieth time at
least), I knew by the sadness in her eyes that she
was thinking just as I was. Presently, therefore,
I slipped away from the noise, and mirth, and smoking
(although of that last there was not much, except
from Farmer Nicholas), and crossing the courtyard
in the moonlight, I went, just to cool myself, as far
as my father’s tombstone.
[Illustration: 245.jpg Tailpiece]
CHAPTER XXX
ANNIE GETS THE BEST OF IT
[Illustration: 246.jpg Illustrated Capital]
I had long outgrown unwholesome feeling as to my father’s
death, and so had Annie; though Lizzie (who must have
loved him least) still entertained some evil will,
and longing for a punishment. Therefore I was
surprised (and indeed, startled would not be too much
to say, the moon being somewhat fleecy), to see our
Annie sitting there as motionless as the tombstone,
and with all her best fallals upon her, after stowing
away the dishes.
My nerves, however, are good and strong, except at
least in love matters, wherein they always fail me,
and when I meet with witches; and therefore I went
up to Annie, although she looked so white and pure;
for I had seen her before with those things on, and
it struck me who she was.
“What are you doing here, Annie?” I inquired
rather sternly, being vexed with her for having gone
so very near to frighten me.
“Nothing at all,” said our Annie shortly.
And indeed it was truth enough for a woman. Not
that I dare to believe that women are such liars as
men say; only that I mean they often see things round
the corner, and know not which is which of it.
And indeed I never have known a woman (though right
enough in their meaning) purely and perfectly true
and transparent, except only my Lorna; and even so,
I might not have loved her, if she had been ugly.
