Episode 5: Arrival of the Mother

The house was quiet. Elizabeth Bates took off her hat and shawl, and rolled back the rug. When she had finished, she sat down. It was a few minutes past nine. She was startled by the rapid chuff of the winding-engine at the pit, and the sharp whir of the brakes on the rope as it descended. Again she felt the painful sweep of her blood, and she put her hand to her side, saying aloud, "Good gracious! -- it's only the nine o'clock deputy* going down," rebuking herself.

She sat still, listening. Half an hour of this, and she was wearied out.

"What am I working myself up like this for ?" she said pitiably to herself, "I s'll only be doing myself some damage."

She took out her sewing again.

At a quarter to ten there were footsteps. One person ! She watched for the door to open. It was an elderly woman, in a black bonnet and a black woollen shawl -- his mother. This was a short woman of sixty or thereabouts, pale, with blue eyes, and her face all shapen to lines of old lament and self- pity. She shut the door and came straight to her daughter, putting her old hand on the other's strong, capable hands.

"Eh, Lizzie, whatever shall we do, whatever shall we do !" she wailed.

Elizabeth drew back a little, sharply.

"What is it, mother ?" she said.

The elder woman went and seated herself on the sofa. The tears were running down the furrows which her old laments had left.

"I don't know, child, I can't tell you !" -- she shook her head slowly and with despair. Elizabeth sat watching her, anxious and vexed.

"I don't know," replied the grandmother, sighing very deeply. "There's no end to my troubles, there isn't. The things I've gone through, and now this ---- !" She wept without wiping her eyes, the tears running freely.

"But mother," interrupted Elizabeth decisively. "What have you come to tell me ? Let me know !"

The grandmother slowly wiped her eyes. The loose fountains of her tears were stopped by Elizabeth's sharpness. She wiped her eyes slowly.

"Poor child ! Eh, you poor thing !" she wailed. "I don't know what we're going to do, I don't -- and you as you are -- it's an awful thing, it is indeed an awful thing !"

Elizabeth waited.

"Is he dead ? " she asked, and at the words her heart swung violently, though she felt a slight flush of shame at the ultimate extravagance of the question. Her words sufficiently startled the old lady.

"Don't say so, Elizabeth ! We'll hope it's not as bad as that; no, the Lord will spare us that, Elizabeth. Jack Rigley came just as I was sittin' down to a glass afore going to bed, an' 'e said, ' 'Appen you'll go down th' line, Mrs. Bates. Walt's had an accident. 'Appen you'll go an' sit wi' 'er till we can get him home.' I hadn't time to ask him a word afore he was gone. An' I put my bonnet on an' come straight down to you, Lizzie. I thought to myself, ' Eh, that poor blessed child, if anybody should come an' tell her of a sudden, there's no knowin' what'll 'appen to 'er.' You mustn't let it upset you, Lizzie -- you mustn't, child. Think of that poor little thing as isn't here by six months -- or is it five, Lizzie ? Ay !"--the old woman shook her head -- " time slips on, it slips on ! Ay !"

Elizabeth's thoughts were busy elsewhere. If he was killed -- would she be able to manage on the little pension and what she could earn ? -- she counted up rapidly. If he was hurt -- they wouldn't take him to the hospital -- how tiresome he would be to nurse ! -- but perhaps she'd be able to get him away from the drink and his hateful ways. She would -- while he was ill. The tears came to her eyes at the picture. Then in thought she arose once more -- he had killed her "sentiment" -- and began to consider the children. At any rate she was absolutely necessary for them. She clung to the thought of the children.

"Ay !" repeated the old woman, "it seems but a week or two since he brought me his first wages. Ay -- he was a good lad, Elizabeth, he was a good lad. I don't know -- I don't know why he got to be such a trouble, I.don't. He was a good lad at home, a dear lad. But there's no mistake he's been a handful of trouble, he has ! I hope the Lord'll spare him to mend his ways. I hope so, I hope so. You've had a sight o' trouble with him, Elizabeth, you have indeed. But he was a good lad wi' me, he was, there's no denying. I don't know how it is . . ."

The old woman continued to muse aloud, a monotonous plaintive sound, while Elizabeth thought concentratedly, startled once, when she heard the winding-engine chuff quickly, and the brakes skirr with a shriek. Then she heard the engine more slowly, and the brakes made no sound. The old woman did not notice. Elizabeth waited in suspense. The mother-in-law talked, with lapses into silence.

"But he wasn't your son, Lizzie, an' it makes a difference. Whatever he was, I remember him when he was little, a dear little lad as ever you could wish to set eyes on."