It lay on the Marsh like
thunder. Men saw their churches ablaze with the wildfire
in the windows after dark; they saw their cattle scatterin'
an' no man scarin'; their sheep flockin' an' no man
drivin'; their horses latherin' an' no man leadin'; they
saw the liddle low green lights more than ever in the
dik-sides; they heard the liddle feet patterin' more than
ever round the houses; an' night an' day, day an' night,
'twas all as though they were bein' creeped up on, an'
hinted at by Some One or other that couldn't rightly
shape their trouble. Oh, I lay they sweated! Man an'
maid, woman an' child, their nature done 'em no service
all the weeks while the Marsh was swarvin' up with
Pharisees. But they was Flesh an' Blood, an' Marsh men
before all. They reckoned the signs sinnified trouble for
the Marsh. Or that the sea 'ud rear up against Dymchurch
Wall an' they'd be drownded like Old Winchelsea;
or that the Plague was comin'. So they looked for
the meanin' in the sea or in the clouds - far an' high up.
They never thought to look near an' knee-high, where
they could see naught.
'Now there was a poor widow at Dymchurch under the
Wall, which, lacking man or property, she had the more
time for feeling; and she come to feel there was a Trouble
outside her doorstep bigger an' heavier than aught she'd
ever carried over it.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254