 | Vulgar Verses |  |
85
Bonne à tout faire.
She clean'd his dainty boots once more;
Then in the dawning dim
She left them at his chamber door,
And knock'd, and spoke to him.
Then in the dawning dim
She left them at his chamber door,
And knock'd, and spoke to him.
“Please sir, I've brought your boots,” she said,
“An' your hot water can:”
For she was but a servant-maid,
And he, a gentleman.
“An' your hot water can:”
For she was but a servant-maid,
And he, a gentleman.
She waited on his morning meal,
All silent and demure;
She was not hired to speak or feel,
But only to endure.
All silent and demure;
She was not hired to speak or feel,
But only to endure.
He, from the table she had laid,
Enjoy'd without a thought
The fire her blacken'd hands had made,
The breakfast she had brought;
Enjoy'd without a thought
The fire her blacken'd hands had made,
The breakfast she had brought;
While she, as woman only can,
Still made his wants her own,
And from the chamber, like a man,
Bore all his luggage down,
Still made his wants her own,
And from the chamber, like a man,
Bore all his luggage down,
86
And listen'd for his well-known bell,
Her daily messenger
Of comfort—for it used to tell
That he had need of her.
Her daily messenger
Of comfort—for it used to tell
That he had need of her.
So had he now; yet when it rung
She thought, she knew not why,
That the old welcome in its tongue
Was very like good-bye.
She thought, she knew not why,
That the old welcome in its tongue
Was very like good-bye.
Still, from her dwelling underground
She flew to answer it;
By duty and by habit bound
To that sweet benefit.
She flew to answer it;
By duty and by habit bound
To that sweet benefit.
She flew, but with a beating heart
That quiver'd, like the bell:
For she must play her mistress' part,
And bid the guest farewell.
That quiver'd, like the bell:
For she must play her mistress' part,
And bid the guest farewell.
“Sir, missis sent me with the bill—
And I was told to say
You'll please excuse her to be ill
When you're a-going away!”
And I was told to say
You'll please excuse her to be ill
When you're a-going away!”
That was the formula she chose;
Revolving in her mind
How best to speak such words as those,
And not to seem unkind.
Revolving in her mind
How best to speak such words as those,
And not to seem unkind.
87
She spoke them, wondering as she heard
What she herself did say;
And twitch'd her apron at each word,
And wish'd herself away.
What she herself did say;
And twitch'd her apron at each word,
And wish'd herself away.
“Ah yes,” he said, and threw his glance
Not on that modest maid,
Whose still and sober countenance
His looks had well repaid,
Not on that modest maid,
Whose still and sober countenance
His looks had well repaid,
But on the paper that she bore—
“'Tis settled now,” said he;
“Go, call a hansom to the door,
And come again to me.”
“'Tis settled now,” said he;
“Go, call a hansom to the door,
And come again to me.”
“Oh sir, your cab's a-waiting now,
Wi' all your things inside—
Except the big portmantelow,
As on the roof is tied.”
Wi' all your things inside—
Except the big portmantelow,
As on the roof is tied.”
“What?” cried the guest, aroused at length;
“Why, Mary, this is kind!
I never knew you had such strength
And such a careful mind.”
“Why, Mary, this is kind!
I never knew you had such strength
And such a careful mind.”
“Law, sir,” she answer'd quietly,
“Your things is only few;
An' as for carrying luggage, why
It's what I always do.”
“Your things is only few;
An' as for carrying luggage, why
It's what I always do.”
88
“Do you?” said he; and rose, and cast
One long keen look on her;
“Do you? Then we have found at last
A perfect character.”
One long keen look on her;
“Do you? Then we have found at last
A perfect character.”
‘Sir?” said poor Mary, all amazed
At those strange words of his;
‘Sir?” But he only stood and gazed;
And all he said was this:—
At those strange words of his;
‘Sir?” But he only stood and gazed;
And all he said was this:—
“Mary, I'm sorry to be gone—
But I am due in town:
I thank you much for what you've done,
And—here is half-a-crown!”
But I am due in town:
I thank you much for what you've done,
And—here is half-a-crown!”
She started; wherefore did she start?
He only meant to please;
But something in her fluttering heart,
Just now, was ill at ease.
He only meant to please;
But something in her fluttering heart,
Just now, was ill at ease.
She started, but she kept her place:
The sight of that half-crown
Brought pleasure to her pretty face,
Brought smiles that love might own.
The sight of that half-crown
Brought pleasure to her pretty face,
Brought smiles that love might own.
She took it, with extended hand;
But ah, he must not see
On her broad palm the blackening brand
Of household drudgery!
But ah, he must not see
On her broad palm the blackening brand
Of household drudgery!
89
She took it—but she hid from view
What he might take so ill:
Coarse was her apron, but she knew
Her hand was coarser still.
What he might take so ill:
Coarse was her apron, but she knew
Her hand was coarser still.
She took it, with a grateful smile;
“Oh, thank you, sir!” she said,
And curtsey'd reverently the while—
This simple servant-maid!
“Oh, thank you, sir!” she said,
And curtsey'd reverently the while—
This simple servant-maid!
He too, he seem'd to understand
The blush upon her face,
The apron that conceal'd her hand,
And spared her that disgrace;
The blush upon her face,
The apron that conceal'd her hand,
And spared her that disgrace;
He seem'd within himself to judge
What sympathy were due
To one who was a kitchen drudge
Yet a meek woman too.
What sympathy were due
To one who was a kitchen drudge
Yet a meek woman too.
Silent, he pass'd into the hall:
And silent following, she
Array'd him in his coat and shawl
With apt humility.
And silent following, she
Array'd him in his coat and shawl
With apt humility.
Then, as they parted at the door,
He turned to say good-bye:
“Mary,” he said, “if nevermore
We meet here, you and I,
He turned to say good-bye:
“Mary,” he said, “if nevermore
We meet here, you and I,
90
“Remember that I wish you well,
For you are kind and true;
And I shall never ring my bell
Without a thought of you.
For you are kind and true;
And I shall never ring my bell
Without a thought of you.
“Shake hands!” with wonder and delight
She let him take her hand;
For now, she had forgotten quite
The blackness and the brand.
She let him take her hand;
For now, she had forgotten quite
The blackness and the brand.
He grasp'd it warmly in his own;
Then smiled a fresh adieu,
And left her standing there alone
As other servants do,
Then smiled a fresh adieu,
And left her standing there alone
As other servants do,
Mute and indifferent and calm:
Yet, with a strange surprise
He saw that what had veil'd her palm
Now help'd to veil her eyes.
Yet, with a strange surprise
He saw that what had veil'd her palm
Now help'd to veil her eyes.
“She is not crying? Yes, by Jove!
She sheds a casual tear,
Kind creature, even for those who move
In such a different sphere.
She sheds a casual tear,
Kind creature, even for those who move
In such a different sphere.
“Why, had I been but timely bold,
I might have snatch'd a kiss!
But no—I am too grave and cold
For that most vulgar bliss:
I might have snatch'd a kiss!
But no—I am too grave and cold
For that most vulgar bliss:
91
“The kisses of a servant-maid,
Base, ignorant, unknown—
Mere venal fondness, amply paid,
Perchance, with half-a-crown.
Base, ignorant, unknown—
Mere venal fondness, amply paid,
Perchance, with half-a-crown.
“Yet, this poor girl has sympathies
To win one's warm regard;
And she has lovely lips and eyes:
But then, her hands are hard.
To win one's warm regard;
And she has lovely lips and eyes:
But then, her hands are hard.
“Some workman, blest above his need,
Will choose her for a wife;
And in his cottage she will lead
Her own appointed life;
Will choose her for a wife;
And in his cottage she will lead
Her own appointed life;
“While, as for me”—such thoughts as these,
Born of an idle brain,
Amused his hours of vacant ease
Within the flying train.
Born of an idle brain,
Amused his hours of vacant ease
Within the flying train.
And she? She had no time to cry;
She took her pail and broom,
And set to work right lustily
To clean his empty room.
She took her pail and broom,
And set to work right lustily
To clean his empty room.
But as she clean'd, her artless mind
Did all his charms review;
She thought how nice he was, and kind,
And how good-looking too.
Did all his charms review;
She thought how nice he was, and kind,
And how good-looking too.
92
“I know'd it by his talk and ways
An' so you always can,
By all they does an' all they says—
As he's a gentleman.
An' so you always can,
By all they does an' all they says—
As he's a gentleman.
“Aye, that he is, from head to heel!
So different, and so fine:
An' eh, how soft his hand did feel,
When he took hold o' mine!
So different, and so fine:
An' eh, how soft his hand did feel,
When he took hold o' mine!
“If I'd a been a lady, now,
An' fit to be his wife,
I could ha' liked him well, I know,
An' loved him all my life;
An' fit to be his wife,
I could ha' liked him well, I know,
An' loved him all my life;
“Or if he'd stoop'd to think o' me,
An' took me for his dear,
My, what a blessing, just to be
His sweetheart, onywheer!
An' took me for his dear,
My, what a blessing, just to be
His sweetheart, onywheer!
“I wouldna wanted to be rose;
I'd serve him, heart and limb,
Like I did here; and goodness knows
How hard I've work'd for him.
I'd serve him, heart and limb,
Like I did here; and goodness knows
How hard I've work'd for him.
“It seem'd—but why, I canna tell—
It seem'd as nice again
To wait on him an' mind his bell
As on the other men:
It seem'd as nice again
To wait on him an' mind his bell
As on the other men:
93
“An' when I heerd the things he said,
An' seed his natty ways,
I used to get 'em in my head,
An' think of 'em for days.
An' seed his natty ways,
I used to get 'em in my head,
An' think of 'em for days.
“It's not the money as he give—
Them others pays me too:
But I did always look alive
When his work was to do.
Them others pays me too:
But I did always look alive
When his work was to do.
“An' yet, he never took no kiss,
Like some does, at the end:
I'm sure I dunno what it is
As makes him such a friend!
Like some does, at the end:
I'm sure I dunno what it is
As makes him such a friend!
“Aye, an' them curous words he spoke
Afore he took my hand—
I wonder if they was a joke
I couldna understand?
Afore he took my hand—
I wonder if they was a joke
I couldna understand?
“‘A perfect character,’ says he:
Well, my charackter's good;
An' missis would speak up for me,
I'm certain sure she would!
Well, my charackter's good;
An' missis would speak up for me,
I'm certain sure she would!
“But what! To think o' one like him
A-sweetheartin' wi' me,
As never could be proud or prim,
Nor aught but what I be!
A-sweetheartin' wi' me,
As never could be proud or prim,
Nor aught but what I be!
94
“No, I'm a fool to fret; he's gone—
He'll not come back no more;
So I mun work and bide alone,
Same as I did afore.”
He'll not come back no more;
So I mun work and bide alone,
Same as I did afore.”
She scrubb'd the harder, fronting Fate
With such brave words as these:
She scrubb'd the floor, she clean'd the grate,
Upon her hands and knees:
With such brave words as these:
She scrubb'd the floor, she clean'd the grate,
Upon her hands and knees:
She would have clean'd the chimney too;
But ere that art she tried,
“Mary!” exclaimed a voice she knew,
And “Yes, ma'am!” she replied.
But ere that art she tried,
“Mary!” exclaimed a voice she knew,
And “Yes, ma'am!” she replied.
“Yes, ma'am!” she started to her feet,
And down the stairs she ran—
Alas, it only was to meet
Another gentleman:
And down the stairs she ran—
Alas, it only was to meet
Another gentleman:
A stranger, whom she had to show—
So sudden was her doom—
All that a servant-maid should know
About that empty room.
So sudden was her doom—
All that a servant-maid should know
About that empty room.
95
L'Envoy.
Two years: and Mary's favourite guest
Had won a wealthy wife,
Who left him for another's breast,
And marr'd his home for life:
Had won a wealthy wife,
Who left him for another's breast,
And marr'd his home for life:
While Mary, reft of half her wits,
Could tell in fear and shame
How hard a drunken husband hits,
When Woman is his game.
Could tell in fear and shame
How hard a drunken husband hits,
When Woman is his game.
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