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diff --git a/2532-0.txt b/2532-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92d34b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/2532-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,814 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Half-Brothers, by Elizabeth Gaskell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Half-Brothers + +Author: Elizabeth Gaskell + +Release Date: March, 2001 [eBook #2532] +[Most recently updated: April 26, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Price, Jennifer Lee, Alev Akman and Andy Wallace + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HALF-BROTHERS *** + + + + +The Half-Brothers + +by Elizabeth Gaskell + + + + +My mother was twice married. She never spoke of her first husband, and +it is only from other people that I have learnt what little I know +about him. I believe she was scarcely seventeen when she was married to +him: and he was barely one-and-twenty. He rented a small farm up in +Cumberland, somewhere towards the sea-coast; but he was perhaps too +young and inexperienced to have the charge of land and cattle: anyhow, +his affairs did not prosper, and he fell into ill health, and died of +consumption before they had been three years man and wife, leaving my +mother a young widow of twenty, with a little child only just able to +walk, and the farm on her hands for four years more by the lease, with +half the stock on it dead, or sold off one by one to pay the more +pressing debts, and with no money to purchase more, or even to buy the +provisions needed for the small consumption of every day. There was +another child coming, too; and sad and sorry, I believe, she was to +think of it. A dreary winter she must have had in her lonesome +dwelling, with never another near it for miles around; her sister came +to bear her company, and they two planned and plotted how to make every +penny they could raise go as far as possible. I can’t tell you how it +happened that my little sister, whom I never saw, came to sicken and +die; but, as if my poor mother’s cup was not full enough, only a +fortnight before Gregory was born the little girl took ill of scarlet +fever, and in a week she lay dead. My mother was, I believe, just +stunned with this last blow. My aunt has told me that she did not cry; +aunt Fanny would have been thankful if she had; but she sat holding the +poor wee lassie’s hand and looking in her pretty, pale, dead face, +without so much as shedding a tear. And it was all the same, when they +had to take her away to be buried. She just kissed the child, and sat +her down in the window-seat to watch the little black train of people +(neighbours—my aunt, and one far-off cousin, who were all the friends +they could muster) go winding away amongst the snow, which had fallen +thinly over the country the night before. When my aunt came back from +the funeral, she found my mother in the same place, and as dry-eyed as +ever. So she continued until after Gregory was born; and, somehow, his +coming seemed to loosen the tears, and she cried day and night, till my +aunt and the other watcher looked at each other in dismay, and would +fain have stopped her if they had but known how. But she bade them let +her alone, and not be over-anxious, for every drop she shed eased her +brain, which had been in a terrible state before for want of the power +to cry. She seemed after that to think of nothing but her new little +baby; she had hardly appeared to remember either her husband or her +little daughter that lay dead in Brigham churchyard—at least so aunt +Fanny said, but she was a great talker, and my mother was very silent +by nature, and I think aunt Fanny may have been mistaken in believing +that my mother never thought of her husband and child just because she +never spoke about them. Aunt Fanny was older than my mother, and had a +way of treating her like a child; but, for all that, she was a kind, +warm-hearted creature, who thought more of her sister’s welfare than +she did of her own and it was on her bit of money that they principally +lived, and on what the two could earn by working for the great Glasgow +sewing-merchants. But by-and-by my mother’s eye-sight began to fail. It +was not that she was exactly blind, for she could see well enough to +guide herself about the house, and to do a good deal of domestic work; +but she could no longer do fine sewing and earn money. It must have +been with the heavy crying she had had in her day, for she was but a +young creature at this time, and as pretty a young woman, I have heard +people say, as any on the country side. She took it sadly to heart that +she could no longer gain anything towards the keep of herself and her +child. My aunt Fanny would fain have persuaded her that she had enough +to do in managing their cottage and minding Gregory; but my mother knew +that they were pinched, and that aunt Fanny herself had not as much to +eat, even of the commonest kind of food, as she could have done with; +and as for Gregory, he was not a strong lad, and needed, not more +food—for he always had enough, whoever went short—but better +nourishment, and more flesh-meat. One day—it was aunt Fanny who told me +all this about my poor mother, long after her death—as the sisters were +sitting together, aunt Fanny working, and my mother hushing Gregory to +sleep, William Preston, who was afterwards my father, came in. He was +reckoned an old bachelor; I suppose he was long past forty, and he was +one of the wealthiest farmers thereabouts, and had known my grandfather +well, and my mother and my aunt in their more prosperous days. He sat +down, and began to twirl his hat by way of being agreeable; my aunt +Fanny talked, and he listened and looked at my mother. But he said very +little, either on that visit, or on many another that he paid before he +spoke out what had been the real purpose of his calling so often all +along, and from the very first time he came to their house. One Sunday, +however, my aunt Fanny stayed away from church, and took care of the +child, and my mother went alone. When she came back, she ran straight +upstairs, without going into the kitchen to look at Gregory or speak +any word to her sister, and aunt Fanny heard her cry as if her heart +was breaking; so she went up and scolded her right well through the +bolted door, till at last she got her to open it. And then she threw +herself on my aunt’s neck, and told her that William Preston had asked +her to marry him, and had promised to take good charge of her boy, and +to let him want for nothing, neither in the way of keep nor of +education, and that she had consented. Aunt Fanny was a good deal +shocked at this; for, as I have said, she had often thought that my +mother had forgotten her first husband very quickly, and now here was +proof positive of it, if she could so soon think of marrying again. +Besides as aunt Fanny used to say, she herself would have been a far +more suitable match for a man of William Preston’s age than Helen, who, +though she was a widow, had not seen her four-and-twentieth summer. +However, as aunt Fanny said, they had not asked her advice; and there +was much to be said on the other side of the question. Helen’s eyesight +would never be good for much again, and as William Preston’s wife she +would never need to do anything, if she chose to sit with her hands +before her; and a boy was a great charge to a widowed mother; and now +there would be a decent steady man to see after him. So, by-and-by, +aunt Fanny seemed to take a brighter view of the marriage than did my +mother herself, who hardly ever looked up, and never smiled after the +day when she promised William Preston to be his wife. But much as she +had loved Gregory before, she seemed to love him more now. She was +continually talking to him when they were alone, though he was far too +young to understand her moaning words, or give her any comfort, except +by his caresses. + +At last William Preston and she were wed; and she went to be mistress +of a well-stocked house, not above half-an-hour’s walk from where aunt +Fanny lived. I believe she did all that she could to please my father; +and a more dutiful wife, I have heard him himself say, could never have +been. But she did not love him, and he soon found it out. She loved +Gregory, and she did not love him. Perhaps, love would have come in +time, if he had been patient enough to wait; but it just turned him +sour to see how her eye brightened and her colour came at the sight of +that little child, while for him who had given her so much, she had +only gentle words as cold as ice. He got to taunt her with the +difference in her manner, as if that would bring love: and he took a +positive dislike to Gregory,—he was so jealous of the ready love that +always gushed out like a spring of fresh water when he came near. He +wanted her to love him more, and perhaps that was all well and good; +but he wanted her to love her child less, and that was an evil wish. +One day, he gave way to his temper, and cursed and swore at Gregory, +who had got into some mischief, as children will; my mother made some +excuse for him; my father said it was hard enough to have to keep +another man’s child, without having it perpetually held up in its +naughtiness by his wife, who ought to be always in the same mind that +he was; and so from little they got to more; and the end of it was, +that my mother took to her bed before her time, and I was born that +very day. My father was glad, and proud, and sorry, all in a breath; +glad and proud that a son was born to him; and sorry for his poor +wife’s state, and to think how his angry words had brought it on. But +he was a man who liked better to be angry than sorry, so he soon found +out that it was all Gregory’s fault, and owed him an additional grudge +for having hastened my birth. He had another grudge against him before +long. My mother began to sink the day after I was born. My father sent +to Carlisle for doctors, and would have coined his heart’s blood into +gold to save her, if that could have been; but it could not. My aunt +Fanny used to say sometimes, that she thought that Helen did not wish +to live, and so just let herself die away without trying to take hold +on life; but when I questioned her, she owned that my mother did all +the doctors bade her do, with the same sort of uncomplaining patience +with which she had acted through life. One of her last requests was to +have Gregory laid in her bed by my side, and then she made him take +hold of my little hand. Her husband came in while she was looking at us +so, and when he bent tenderly over her to ask her how she felt now, and +seemed to gaze on us two little half-brothers, with a grave sort of +kindness, she looked up in his face and smiled, almost her first smile +at him; and such a sweet smile! as more besides aunt Fanny have said. +In an hour she was dead. Aunt Fanny came to live with us. It was the +best thing that could be done. My father would have been glad to return +to his old mode of bachelor life, but what could he do with two little +children? He needed a woman to take care of him, and who so fitting as +his wife’s elder sister? So she had the charge of me from my birth; and +for a time I was weakly, as was but natural, and she was always beside +me, night and day watching over me, and my father nearly as anxious as +she. For his land had come down from father to son for more than three +hundred years, and he would have cared for me merely as his flesh and +blood that was to inherit the land after him. But he needed something +to love, for all that, to most people, he was a stern, hard man, and he +took to me as, I fancy, he had taken to no human being before—as he +might have taken to my mother, if she had had no former life for him to +be jealous of. I loved him back again right heartily. I loved all +around me, I believe, for everybody was kind to me. After a time, I +overcame my original weakness of constitution, and was just a bonny, +strong-looking lad whom every passer-by noticed, when my father took me +with him to the nearest town. + +At home I was the darling of my aunt, the tenderly-beloved of my +father, the pet and plaything of the old domestics, the “young master” +of the farm-labourers, before whom I played many a lordly antic, +assuming a sort of authority which sat oddly enough, I doubt not, on +such a baby as I was. + +Gregory was three years older than I. Aunt Fanny was always kind to him +in deed and in action, but she did not often think about him, she had +fallen so completely into the habit of being engrossed by me, from the +fact of my having come into her charge as a delicate baby. My father +never got over his grudging dislike to his stepson, who had so +innocently wrestled with him for the possession of my mother’s heart. I +mistrust me, too, that my father always considered him as the cause of +my mother’s death and my early delicacy; and utterly unreasonable as +this may seem, I believe my father rather cherished his feeling of +alienation to my brother as a duty, than strove to repress it. Yet not +for the world would my father have grudged him anything that money +could purchase. That was, as it were, in the bond when he had wedded my +mother. Gregory was lumpish and loutish, awkward and ungainly, marring +whatever he meddled in, and many a hard word and sharp scolding did he +get from the people about the farm, who hardly waited till my father’s +back was turned before they rated the stepson. I am ashamed—my heart is +sore to think how I fell into the fashion of the family, and slighted +my poor orphan step-brother. I don’t think I ever scouted him, or was +wilfully ill-natured to him; but the habit of being considered in all +things, and being treated as something uncommon and superior, made me +insolent in my prosperity, and I exacted more than Gregory was always +willing to grant, and then, irritated, I sometimes repeated the +disparaging words I had heard others use with regard to him, without +fully understanding their meaning. Whether he did or not I cannot tell. +I am afraid he did. He used to turn silent and quiet—sullen and sulky, +my father thought it: stupid, aunt Fanny used to call it. But every one +said he was stupid and dull, and this stupidity and dullness grew upon +him. He would sit without speaking a word, sometimes, for hours; then +my father would bid him rise and do some piece of work, maybe, about +the farm. And he would take three or four tellings before he would go. +When we were sent to school, it was all the same. He could never be +made to remember his lessons; the school-master grew weary of scolding +and flogging, and at last advised my father just to take him away, and +set him to some farm-work that might not be above his comprehension. I +think he was more gloomy and stupid than ever after this, yet he was +not a cross lad; he was patient and good-natured, and would try to do a +kind turn for any one, even if they had been scolding or cuffing him +not a minute before. But very often his attempts at kindness ended in +some mischief to the very people he was trying to serve, owing to his +awkward, ungainly ways. I suppose I was a clever lad; at any rate, I +always got plenty of praise; and was, as we called it, the cock of the +school. The schoolmaster said I could learn anything I chose, but my +father, who had no great learning himself, saw little use in much for +me, and took me away betimes, and kept me with him about the farm. +Gregory was made into a kind of shepherd, receiving his training under +old Adam, who was nearly past his work. I think old Adam was almost the +first person who had a good opinion of Gregory. He stood to it that my +brother had good parts, though he did not rightly know how to bring +them out; and, for knowing the bearings of the Fells, he said he had +never seen a lad like him. My father would try to bring Adam round to +speak of Gregory’s faults and shortcomings; but, instead of that, he +would praise him twice as much, as soon as he found out what was my +father’s object. + +One winter-time, when I was about sixteen, and Gregory nineteen, I was +sent by my father on an errand to a place about seven miles distant by +the road, but only about four by the Fells. He bade me return by the +road, whichever way I took in going, for the evenings closed in early, +and were often thick and misty; besides which, old Adam, now paralytic +and bedridden, foretold a downfall of snow before long. I soon got to +my journey’s end, and soon had done my business; earlier by an hour, I +thought, than my father had expected, so I took the decision of the way +by which I would return into my own hands, and set off back again over +the Fells, just as the first shades of evening began to fall. It looked +dark and gloomy enough; but everything was so still that I thought I +should have plenty of time to get home before the snow came down. Off I +set at a pretty quick pace. But night came on quicker. The right path +was clear enough in the day-time, although at several points two or +three exactly similar diverged from the same place; but when there was +a good light, the traveller was guided by the sight of distant +objects,—a piece of rock,—a fall in the ground—which were quite +invisible to me now. I plucked up a brave heart, however, and took what +seemed to me the right road. It was wrong, nevertheless, and led me +whither I knew not, but to some wild boggy moor where the solitude +seemed painful, intense, as if never footfall of man had come thither +to break the silence. I tried to shout—with the dimmest possible hope +of being heard—rather to reassure myself by the sound of my own voice; +but my voice came husky and short, and yet it dismayed me; it seemed so +weird and strange, in that noiseless expanse of black darkness. +Suddenly the air was filled thick with dusky flakes, my face and hands +were wet with snow. It cut me off from the slightest knowledge of where +I was, for I lost every idea of the direction from which I had come, so +that I could not even retrace my steps; it hemmed me in, thicker, +thicker, with a darkness that might be felt. The boggy soil on which I +stood quaked under me if I remained long in one place, and yet I dared +not move far. All my youthful hardiness seemed to leave me at once. I +was on the point of crying, and only very shame seemed to keep it down. +To save myself from shedding tears, I shouted—terrible, wild shouts for +bare life they were. I turned sick as I paused to listen; no answering +sound came but the unfeeling echoes. Only the noiseless, pitiless snow +kept falling thicker, thicker—faster, faster! I was growing numb and +sleepy. I tried to move about, but I dared not go far, for fear of the +precipices which, I knew, abounded in certain places on the Fells. Now +and then, I stood still and shouted again; but my voice was getting +choked with tears, as I thought of the desolate helpless death I was to +die, and how little they at home, sitting round the warm, red, bright +fire, wotted what was become of me,—and how my poor father would grieve +for me—it would surely kill him—it would break his heart, poor old man! +Aunt Fanny too—was this to be the end of all her cares for me? I began +to review my life in a strange kind of vivid dream, in which the +various scenes of my few boyish years passed before me like visions. In +a pang of agony, caused by such remembrance of my short life, I +gathered up my strength and called out once more, a long, despairing, +wailing cry, to which I had no hope of obtaining any answer, save from +the echoes around, dulled as the sound might be by the thickened air. +To my surprise I heard a cry—almost as long, as wild as mine—so wild +that it seemed unearthly, and I almost thought it must be the voice of +some of the mocking spirits of the Fells, about whom I had heard so +many tales. My heart suddenly began to beat fast and loud. I could not +reply for a minute or two. I nearly fancied I had lost the power of +utterance. Just at this moment a dog barked. Was it Lassie’s bark—my +brother’s collie?—an ugly enough brute, with a white, ill-looking face, +that my father always kicked whenever he saw it, partly for its own +demerits, partly because it belonged to my brother. On such occasions, +Gregory would whistle Lassie away, and go off and sit with her in some +outhouse. My father had once or twice been ashamed of himself, when the +poor collie had yowled out with the suddenness of the pain, and had +relieved himself of his self-reproach by blaming my brother, who, he +said, had no notion of training a dog, and was enough to ruin any +collie in Christendom with his stupid way of allowing them to lie by +the kitchen fire. To all which Gregory would answer nothing, nor even +seem to hear, but go on looking absent and moody. + +Yes! there again! It was Lassie’s bark! Now or never! I lifted up my +voice and shouted “Lassie! Lassie! for God’s sake, Lassie!” Another +moment, and the great white-faced Lassie was curving and gambolling +with delight round my feet and legs, looking, however, up in my face +with her intelligent, apprehensive eyes, as if fearing lest I might +greet her with a blow, as I had done oftentimes before. But I cried +with gladness, as I stooped down and patted her. My mind was sharing in +my body’s weakness, and I could not reason, but I knew that help was at +hand. A gray figure came more and more distinctly out of the thick, +close-pressing darkness. It was Gregory wrapped in his maud. + +“Oh, Gregory!” said I, and I fell upon his neck, unable to speak +another word. He never spoke much, and made me no answer for some +little time. Then he told me we must move, we must walk for the dear +life—we must find our road home, if possible; but we must move, or we +should be frozen to death. + +“Don’t you know the way home?” asked I. + +“I thought I did when I set out, but I am doubtful now. The snow blinds +me, and I am feared that in moving about just now, I have lost the +right gait homewards.” + +He had his shepherd’s staff with him, and by dint of plunging it before +us at every step we took—clinging close to each other, we went on +safely enough, as far as not falling down any of the steep rocks, but +it was slow, dreary work. My brother, I saw, was more guided by Lassie +and the way she took than anything else, trusting to her instinct. It +was too dark to see far before us; but he called her back continually, +and noted from what quarter she returned, and shaped our slow steps +accordingly. But the tedious motion scarcely kept my very blood from +freezing. Every bone, every fibre in my body seemed first to ache, and +then to swell, and then to turn numb with the intense cold. My brother +bore it better than I, from having been more out upon the hills. He did +not speak, except to call Lassie. I strove to be brave, and not +complain; but now I felt the deadly fatal sleep stealing over me. + +“I can go no farther,” I said, in a drowsy tone. I remember I suddenly +became dogged and resolved. Sleep I would, were it only for five +minutes. If death were to be the consequence, sleep I would. Gregory +stood still. I suppose, he recognized the peculiar phase of suffering +to which I had been brought by the cold. + +“It is of no use,” said he, as if to himself. “We are no nearer home +than we were when we started, as far as I can tell. Our only chance is +in Lassie. Here! roll thee in my maud, lad, and lay thee down on this +sheltered side of this bit of rock. Creep close under it, lad, and I’ll +lie by thee, and strive to keep the warmth in us. Stay! hast gotten +aught about thee they’ll know at home?” + +I felt him unkind thus to keep me from slumber, but on his repeating +the question, I pulled out my pocket-handkerchief, of some showy +pattern, which Aunt Fanny had hemmed for me—Gregory took it, and tied +it round Lassie’s neck. + +“Hie thee, Lassie, hie thee home!” And the white-faced ill-favoured +brute was off like a shot in the darkness. Now I might lie down—now I +might sleep. In my drowsy stupor I felt that I was being tenderly +covered up by my brother; but what with I neither knew nor cared—I was +too dull, too selfish, too numb to think and reason, or I might have +known that in that bleak bare place there was nought to wrap me in, +save what was taken off another. I was glad enough when he ceased his +cares and lay down by me. I took his hand. + +“Thou canst not remember, lad, how we lay together thus by our dying +mother. She put thy small, wee hand in mine—I reckon she sees us now; +and belike we shall soon be with her. Anyhow, God’s will be done.” + +“Dear Gregory,” I muttered, and crept nearer to him for warmth. He was +talking still, and again about our mother, when I fell asleep. In an +instant—or so it seemed—there were many voices about me—many faces +hovering round me—the sweet luxury of warmth was stealing into every +part of me. I was in my own little bed at home. I am thankful to say, +my first word was “Gregory?” + +A look passed from one to another—my father’s stern old face strove in +vain to keep its sternness; his mouth quivered, his eyes filled slowly +with unwonted tears. + +“I would have given him half my land—I would have blessed him as my +son,—oh God! I would have knelt at his feet, and asked him to forgive +my hardness of heart.” + +I heard no more. A whirl came through my brain, catching me back to +death. + +I came slowly to my consciousness, weeks afterwards. My father’s hair +was white when I recovered, and his hands shook as he looked into my +face. + +We spoke no more of Gregory. We could not speak of him; but he was +strangely in our thoughts. Lassie came and went with never a word of +blame; nay, my father would try to stroke her, but she shrank away; and +he, as if reproved by the poor dumb beast, would sigh, and be silent +and abstracted for a time. + +Aunt Fanny—always a talker—told me all. How, on that fatal night, my +father,—irritated by my prolonged absence, and probably more anxious +than he cared to show, had been fierce and imperious, even beyond his +wont, to Gregory; had upbraided him with his father’s poverty, his own +stupidity which made his services good for nothing—for so, in spite of +the old shepherd, my father always chose to consider them. At last, +Gregory had risen up, and whistled Lassie out with him—poor Lassie, +crouching underneath his chair for fear of a kick or a blow. Some time +before, there had been some talk between my father and my aunt +respecting my return; and when aunt Fanny told me all this, she said +she fancied that Gregory might have noticed the coming storm, and gone +out silently to meet me. Three hours afterwards, when all were running +about in wild alarm, not knowing whither to go in search of me—not even +missing Gregory, or heeding his absence, poor fellow—poor, poor +fellow!—Lassie came home, with my handkerchief tied round her neck. +They knew and understood, and the whole strength of the farm was turned +out to follow her, with wraps, and blankets, and brandy, and every +thing that could be thought of. I lay in chilly sleep, but still alive, +beneath the rock that Lassie guided them to. I was covered over with my +brother’s plaid, and his thick shepherd’s coat was carefully wrapped +round my feet. He was in his shirt-sleeves—his arm thrown over me—a +quiet smile (he had hardly ever smiled in life) upon his still, cold +face. + +My father’s last words were, “God forgive me my hardness of heart +towards the fatherless child!” + +And what marked the depth of his feeling of repentance, perhaps more +than all, considering the passionate love he bore my mother, was this: +we found a paper of directions after his death, in which he desired +that he might lie at the foot of the grave, in which, by his desire, +poor Gregory had been laid with OUR MOTHER. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HALF-BROTHERS *** + +***** This file should be named 2532-0.txt or 2532-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/3/2532/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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