My father sent him to the tread-mill
last year for a brutal assault. He is quite capable of murder. Has
no one looked for him?"
"Bingley says he saw my Ben shoot Clough, and Clough says it was Ben."
"Then Clough is still alive?"
"Ay, but he'll die ere morning. T' magistrates hev been wi' him, and
he swears positive that Ben Craven shot him."
"Where was Ben last night?"
"He came from t' mill at six o'clock, and hed a cup o' tea wi' me.
He said he'd go to t' chapel wi' me at eight o'clock; and after I hed
washed up t' dishes, I went to sit wi' Sarah Fisher, who's bad off
wi' t' fever; and when I came back Ben was standing at t' door, and
folks wer' running here, and running there, and all t' village was
fair beside itseln. We wer' just reading a bit in t' Bible, when
constables knocked at t' door and said they wanted Ben. My heart sank
into my shoes, Miss Hallam, and I said, 'That's a varry unlikely thing,
lads; you're just talking for talking's sake.' And Jerry Oddy said,
'Nay, we bean't, dame; Jonathan Clough is dying, and he says Ben
Craven shot him.' Then I said, 'He'll die wi' t' lie on his lips if
he says that, thou tell him so.' And Jerry Oddy said, 'Not I, dame,
keep a still tongue i' thy mouth, it'll mebbe be better for thee.'"
"Martha! How could you bear it?"
"I didn't think what I wer' bearing at t' time, Miss Hallam; I wer'
just angry enough for any thing; and I wer' kind o' angry wi' Ben
takkin' it so quiet like.
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