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Adam Bede by George Eliot
Book, page 41 / 550


fury with long nails, acrid and selfish. Depend upon it, he meant
a good creature, who had no joy but in the happiness of the loved
ones whom she contributed to make uncomfortable, putting by all
the tid-bits for them and spending nothing on herself. Such a
woman as Lisbeth, for example--at once patient and complaining,
self-renouncing and exacting, brooding the livelong day over what
happened yesterday and what is likely to happen to-morrow, and
crying very readily both at the good and the evil. But a certain
awe mingled itself with her idolatrous love of Adam, and when he
said, "Leave me alone," she was always silenced.

So the hours passed, to the loud ticking of the old day-clock and
the sound of Adam's tools. At last he called for a light and a
draught of water (beer was a thing only to be drunk on holidays),
and Lisbeth ventured to say as she took it in, "Thy supper stan's
ready for thee, when thee lik'st."

"Donna thee sit up, mother," said Adam, in a gentle tone. He had
worked off his anger now, and whenever he wished to be especially
kind to his mother, he fell into his strongest native accent and
dialect, with which at other times his speech was less deeply
tinged. "I'll see to Father when he comes home; maybe he wonna
come at all to-night. I shall be easier if thee't i' bed."

"Nay, I'll bide till Seth comes. He wonna be long now, I reckon."

It was then past nine by the clock, which was always in advance of
the days, and before it had struck ten the latch was lifted and
Seth entered. He had heard the sound of the tools as he was
approaching.

"Why, Mother," he said, "how is it as Father's working so late?"

"It's none o' thy feyther as is a-workin'--thee might know that
well anoof if thy head warna full o' chapellin'--it's thy brother
as does iverything, for there's niver nobody else i' th' way to do
nothin'."

Lisbeth was going on, for she was not at all afraid of Seth, and
usually poured into his ears all the querulousness which was

 
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