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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>THE SPLENDID FAIRING</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Splendid Fairing" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Constance Holme" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1919" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40545" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-08-20" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Splendid Fairing" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Splendid Fairing" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="fairing.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-08-20T16:50:45.350678+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40545" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Constance Holme" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2012-08-20" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.19b4 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-splendid-fairing"> -<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">THE SPLENDID FAIRING</h1> - -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en noindent pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 <a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a> -included with this eBook or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container noindent white-space-pre-line" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line">Title: The Splendid Fairing<br /> -<br /> -Author: Constance Holme<br /> -<br /> -Release Date: August 20, 2012 [EBook #40545]<br /> -<br /> -Language: English<br /> -<br /> -Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line">*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>THE SPLENDID FAIRING</span> ***</p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 51%" id="figure-11"> -<img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -Cover</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 100%" id="figure-12"> -<img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -THE MESSENGER FROM THE DEEP. <em class="italics">J. D. Wilson</em></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line x-large">THE SPLENDID<br /> -FAIRING</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">BY</p> -<p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line">CONSTANCE HOLME</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">"All night long the water is crying to me."</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">MILLS & BOON, LIMITED<br /> -49 RUPERT STREET<br /> -LONDON, W.1</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Published 1919</em></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container dedication white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">TO<br /> -MABEL AND JIMMY</p> -<p class="pnext small white-space-pre-line">Boscombe, March 28th--April 5th, 1919</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container plainpage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center large pfirst white-space-pre-line">CONTENTS</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#simon-and-sarah">SIMON AND SARAH</a></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#eliza">ELIZA</a></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#may">MAY</a></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="medium pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#geordie-an-jim">GEORDIE-AN'-JIM</a></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<!-- --> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="simon-and-sarah">PART I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">SIMON AND SARAH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Perhaps it would never have happened -but for the day. A brave, buoyant day, -with a racing wind, might have scattered the -clinging obsession just in time. A tender, -laughing day might have laid a healing finger -on old sores. A clean, frosty day might have -braced the naturally sane old mind. But Fate, -out of all the days in the year, took upon itself -to send just this.</p> -<p class="pnext">The human soul, which seems so utterly out -of reach, is only shut away from every other -soul. In every other respect it is like a harp -hung on a tree. Even the actual day as it comes -is itself a lever in many a fate. Deeds are done -on certain days which on others would be mere -passing impulses easily dead before the night. -This blind Martinmas Day went all day long -with its head among the clouds, as if it thought -that never again would there be any sun. -Indeed, it was out of the lack of every sort of -sight that the evil grew; since, otherwise--"Mothers -couldn't have done those things," as -Geordie would have said.</p> -<p class="pnext">All day the earth retained that stillness which -it keeps as a rule only for the last hour before -the dawn. Everywhere in the morning there -was mist,--that strange, wandering, thinking -mist that seems to have nothing to do with -either earth or air; and when the slow dark -drew back there would be mist everywhere -again. Between those shadowy tide-marks of -the air there was a space when the white mist -shredded above the trees, leaving the -atmosphere with the look of a glass that has been -breathed upon and never clears.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Simon Thornthwaites were going to -market simply because they did not know how -to stay away. They went as naturally as the -sun comes out of the east, but with a good -deal less of decision about the journey. They -looked dull and tired, too, less indeed as if they -were setting out than as if they were wearily -trundling home again. Both horse and trap -looked as though they might fall to pieces after -an extra jolt, and the jumble of harness was -mended here and there with string. There was -neither butter nor fowl in the market-basket -behind; there was not even a limp rabbit -dangling over the wheel. But all the time they -were part of a chain which gave them a motive -and impulse not their own, since others, more -sure of their errand, were taking the same road. -Sometimes a horseman on a young Shire went -past with a flash of feather and a clumping of -hoofs. Livelier traps spun by at a trot and -gave them a hail. Behind and before them -they had an occasional glimpse of the -procession stretching to the town.</p> -<p class="pnext">They had climbed from the marsh, leaving it -dropped like a colourless cloth beside the sea, -and already they seemed to have been a long -time on the road. They had not slept much, -and, waking, had had the cheated feeling, -common to the weary, that the foregoing day -had never really ended nor the incoming -morning ever quite begun. Indeed, the strange, -dreamlike day had never really seemed to come -awake. Looking back and west, they saw -everything grey, with just a lightened shadow -marking the far sea, and the marsh lying down -on its face like a figure flung down to die. -Houses sat low to the earth as if they crouched, -and the trees were vague, bodiless wisps, -without backbone or sap. When they had their first -glimpse of Witham, they saw the town on the -fell-side like a fortress through smoked glass, -and the Castle alone on its hill was of -shadow-stones poised on a poised cloud.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Simon Thornthwaites were old now, and -under-dogs in the tussle of life, but they had -once been as strong and confident as most. -Sometimes they had a vision of their former -selves, and wondered how this could ever have -been that. The old man was thin and bent, the -sort that shows the flame through the lantern -long before the end, but the woman was stronger-boned, -squarer, and still straight. Most of her -life she had worked like a horse, but she was -still straight. Her face was mask-like and her -mouth close. Only her hands betrayed her at -times,--old, over-done hands that would not -always be still. Her eyes seemed to look straight -before her at something only she could see,--staring -and staring at the image which she had -set up.</p> -<p class="pnext">They farmed Sandholes down on the marsh, -a lonely bit of a spot that looked as if it had -been left there for a winter's tide to take away. -It had always had an unlucky name, and, like -many unlucky people and things, seemed to -have the trick of attracting to itself those who -were equally ill-starred. Certainly, Sandholes -and the Thornthwaites between them had -achieved amazing things in the way of ill-luck. -No doubt both farm and folk would have done -better apart, but then they had never succeeded -in getting apart. It was just as if Fate had -thrown and kept them together in order to do -each other down. Luck to luck--there seemed -nothing else to be said about the Thornthwaites' -plight. They even carried the stamp of each -other plain to be seen. You had only to look -at the farm to know how its tenants looked; -you had only to see the folk to know what their -home was like. Perhaps it was just that the -double weight of misfortune was too big a thing -to lift. Perhaps the canker at the heart of it all -would allow nothing to prosper and grow sweet.</p> -<p class="pnext">They had an easy landlord, easy and rich; -too easy and rich, perhaps, for the -Thornthwaites' good. That farm had money--landlord's -and tenant's--spent on it above its due; -yes, and a certain amount of borrowed brass as -well. It had work put into it, thought and -courage sufficient to run a colony, and -good-will enough to build a church. And all that it -did in return was to go back and back and be a -deadhead and a chapter of accidents and an -everlasting disappointment and surprise. It -was a standing contradiction of the saying--"Be -honest with the land, and it will be honest -with you." Everything went wrong with that -farm that could go wrong, as well as other -things that couldn't by any chance have gone -anything but right. Most people would have -thrown a stone at it at an early stage, but it was -part of the Thornthwaite doom that they could -not tear themselves away. Even when there -seemed no longer a reason for staying, still they -stayed. The one streak of sentiment in them -that survived the dismal years held them there -captive by its silken string.</p> -<p class="pnext">But to-day, as they jogged and jolted -endlessly towards Witham, the whole, drear, -long business came to an end. No matter what -they had thought of the probable future to -themselves, they had hitherto shut their mouths -obstinately and clung close. They had never -even said to each other that some day they -would have to quit. They had put it off so long -that it seemed the least little push would always -put it further still. But to-day the matter -suddenly settled itself for good; almost, it -seemed, between one telegraph-post and the next.</p> -<p class="pnext">Martinmas hirings would be in full swing -when they got in, but there was no need now -for Simon to enter the ring. Their hired man -had seen them through the busiest time, but -they could manage without him through the -winter months. Their hired men had never -stayed very long, because the depression of the -place seemed to get into their bones. They -tired of crops which seemed to make a point of -'finger and toe,' and of waiting through dismal -weeks to get in the hay. Now the Thornthwaites -would never have the worry of hay-time on their -own account again,--never open the door to -catch the scent from their waiting fields,--never -watch the carts coming back on the -golden evening to the barn. 'Never again' -would be written over many things after to-day, -but perhaps it was there that they saw it written -first. After all this time things had somehow -stopped of themselves, and after all this time -there was nothing to do but go.</p> -<p class="pnext">Lads and lasses went by them on cycles, or -tugging bundles as they walked; youth with -bright cheeks and strong shoulders and clear -eyes, taking its health and strength to the -market to be hired. Some of them greeted the -old folks as they passed, but others did not as -much as know their names. Both Simon and -Sarah came of old and respectable stock, but to -the young generation skimming by on wheels -these two had been as good as buried years ago. -Sarah's eyes strained themselves after the lithe -bodies of the lads, while Simon looked at the -lasses with their loads. He would have liked to -have offered some of them a lift, but he knew -he would catch it from Sarah if he did. Sarah -hated the younger end of folk, she always said, -and the fly-away lasses she hated most of all. -She saw them going past her into beautiful life, -just as their swifter wheels went past the trap. -Always they were leaving her behind as it -seemed to her that she had always been left. -It was true, of course, that she had had her -turn, but now it seemed so far away it might -never have been. All she could see in the -background when she looked behind was the -cheerless desert which she had had to cover since.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were about half-way to Witham when -the moment of spoken decision caught them -unawares. All their stolid resistance and obstinate -clinging to the farm gave in that instant as -easily as a pushed door. It was as if a rock at -the mouth of a cave had suddenly proved no -more than a cloud pausing before it in the act -of drifting by. The end came as nearly always -after a prolonged fight,--smoothly, painlessly, -with a curious lack of interest or personal will. -The burden had been so heavy that the last -straw passed almost unnoticed which brought -them finally to the ground. They had lived so -close to the edge for so many years that the -step which carried them over it scarcely jarred.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were climbing the long hill that runs -from Doestone Hall, the Tudor house standing -close to the cross-roads. By turning their -heads they could see its gabled front with the -larches set like lances beside its door. The -river ran swift below the beech-covered slope -of the park, reaching impatiently after the -ebbed tide. The house, for all the weight of its -age, looked unsubstantial in the filmy air. Fast -as the river flowed below, from above it -looked like a sheeted but still faintly moving corpse.</p> -<p class="pnext">The road was damp and shadowy under the -overhanging trees, and padded with the -hoof-welded carpet of the autumn leaves. The fields -on either side were formless and wet, and seemed -to stretch away to unknown lengths. The -hedges appeared to wander and wind across the -land without purpose and without end. Under -all the hedges and trees there were leaves, wet -splashes of crushed colour on the misted grass. -Simon lifted his whip to point at the hips and -haws, and said it would be a hard winter when -it came, but Sarah did not so much as turn her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm bothered a deal wi' my eyes, Simon," -she said in a quiet tone. "I thought I'd best -see doctor about 'em to-day."</p> -<p class="pnext">He dropped his gaze from the hedges with a -startled stare. "Oh, ay? That's summat -fresh, isn't it?" he enquired. "You've never -said nowt about it afore."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, what, I thought it was likely just old -age. But I've gitten a deal worse these last -few week. I can't shape to do a bit o' sewing -or owt."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, you'd best see doctor right off," -Simon said, and the horse crawled a little -further up the hill. They did not speak again -for some time, but those who live together in a -great loneliness grow to speak together in -thought as much as in words. That was why -his next speech seemed to come out placidly -enough. "I doubt it's about time for us to quit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I doubt it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I never meant to gang till I was carried," -Simon said, "and then I doubt there'd still ha' -been some o' me left. But I've seen the end o' -things coming for a while back now. It seems -kind o' meant, you being bothered wi' your -eyes an' all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen it is," she said again, and sighed. -Then she laughed, a slight laugh, but bitter and -grim. "It nobbut wanted that on top o' the rest!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon threw her an uneasy glance.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, you mustn't get down about it, -missis," he said hastily. "It waint do to get -down. Doctor'll likely see his way to put you -right. But we've had a terble poor time wi' it -all," he went on glumly, forgetting his own -advice. "Seems like as if we'd been overlooked -by summat, you and me. 'Tisn't as if we'd -made such a bad start at things, neither. We -were both on us strong and willing when we -was wed. It's like as if there'd been a curse o' -some sort on the danged spot!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's been a curse on the lot of us right -enough!" Sarah said. "Ay, and we don't -need telling where it come from, neither!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Again he looked at her with that uncomfortable -air, though he took no notice of her bitter -speech. He knew only too well that haunted -corner of her mind. That sour, irreclaimable -pasture had been trodden in every inch.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, we're through on t'far side on't -now," he said morosely. "Sandholes can grind -the soul out o' some other poor body for the -next forty year! I never hear tell o' such a -spot!" he went on crossly, with that puzzled -exasperation which he always showed when -discussing the marsh-farm. "It'd be summat -to laugh at if only it didn't make you dancin' -mad! What, it's like as if even slates had -gitten a spite agen sticking to t'roof! We've -had t'tide in t'house more nor once, and sure -an' certain it'd be when we'd summat new in the -way o' gear. We'd a fire an' all, you'll think on, -and it took us a couple o' year getting to rights -agen. Burned out and drownded out,--why, -it's right silly, that's what it is! As for t'land, -what it fair swallers up lime an' slag and any -mak' o' manure, and does as lile or nowt as it -can for it in return. Nigh every crop we've had -yet was some sort of a let-down,--that's if we'd -happen luck to get it at all! Kitchen garden's -near as bad; lile or nowt'll come up in't, nobbut -you set by it and hod its hand! Ay, and the -stock, now,--if there was sickness about, sure -an' certain it'd fix on us. You'd nobbut just -to hear o' tell o' foot and mouth, or anthrax, or -summat o' the sort, an' it'd be showing at -Sandholes inside a week! Same wi' t'folk in t'house -as wi' folk in t'shuppon,--fever, fluenzy, -diphthery,--the whole doctor's bag o' tricks. Nay, -there's summat queer about spot, and that's -Bible truth! We should ha' made up our -minds to get shot of it long since, and tried our -luck somewheres else."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We'd likely just ha' taken our luck along -wi' us," Sarah said, "and there was yon brass -we'd sunk in the spot,--ay, and other folks' -brass an' all." (Simon growled "Ay, ay," to -this, but in a reproachful tone, as if he thought -it might well have been left unsaid.) "We were -set enough on Sandholes when we was wed, -think on; and when Geordie was running about -as a bit of a lad."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, and Jim."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I want nowt about Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, it's a bit since now," Simon said -hastily, thinking that it seemed as long ago as -when there was firm land stretching from Ireland -to the marsh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Over forty year."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a bit since," he said again, just as he -said equally of the Creation of the world, or his -own boyhood, or the last time he was at Witham -Show.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Surely to goodness we were right enough -then? We shouldn't ha' said thank you for -any other spot. Nay, and we wouldn't ha' -gone later on, neither, if we'd gitten chanst. -It would never ha' done for Geordie to come -back and find the old folks quit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, nor for Jim----" he began again -thoughtlessly, and bit it off. "Ay, well, I -doubt he'll never come back now!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's likely best where he is." Sarah shut -her mouth with a hard snap. Once again she -stared straight in front of her over the horse's -head, staring and staring at the image which -she had set up.</p> -<p class="pnext">A motor-horn challenged them presently from -behind, and Simon pulled aside without even -turning his head. He had never really grown -used to the cars and the stricter rule of the road. -He belonged to the days when the highway to -Witham saw a leisurely procession of farmers' -shandrydans, peat-carts, and carriers' carts with -curved hoods; with here and there a country -gentleman's pair of steppers flashing their way -through. He never took to the cars with their -raucous voices and trains of dust, their sudden -gusts of passage which sent his heart into his -mouth. His slack-reined driving forced him to -keep to the crown of the road, and only an -always forthcoming miracle got him out of the -way in time. He used to shrink a little when -the cars drew level, and the occupants turned -their curious heads. Somehow the whole occurrence -had the effect of a definite personal attack. -Sometimes he thought they laughed at the -jolting trap, the shabby old couple and the harness -tied with string. The rush of the cars seemed -to bring a crescendo of mocking voices and leave -a trail of diminishing mirth. But as a matter of -fact he did not often look at them when they -looked at him. There was nothing to link their -hurrying world with his.</p> -<p class="pnext">This particular car, however, seemed an -unusually long time in getting past. The horn -sounded again, and, muttering indignantly, he -pulled still further into the hedge-side. He held -his breath for the usual disturbance and rush, -but they did not come. The car kept closely -behind him, but it did not pass. Round each -corner, as they reached it, he lost and then -caught again the subdued purring of the engine -and the soft slurring of the wheels. When they -met anything, it fell further back, so that at -times he felt sure that it must have stopped. -Then he would draw his breath, and drop into -a walk, but almost at once it would be at his -back again. The note of it grew to have a -stealthy, stalking sound, as of something that -waited to spring upon its prey.</p> -<p class="pnext">The strangeness of this proceeding began -suddenly to tell upon Simon's nerves. Lack of -interest had at first prevented him from turning -his head, but now it changed into sheer inability -to look behind. Soon he was in the grip of a -panic fear that the car at his back might not be -a real car, after all. He began to think that he -had only imagined the horn, the gentle note of -the engine and the soft sound of the wheels. -Perhaps, now that he was old, his ears were -playing him false, just as Sarah's eyes, so it -seemed, were suddenly playing her false. -Presently he was sure, if he turned, he would see -nothing at all, or that, instead of nothing at all, -he would see a ghost. Something that moved -in another world would be there, with spidery -wheels and a body through which he could see -the fields; something that had once belonged -to life and gone out with a crash, or was only -just coming into it on the road....</p> -<p class="pnext">It was quite true that there was something -peculiar about the behaviour of the car. From -its number, it must have come from the county -next below, and it was splashed as if it had -travelled far and fast. During the last few -miles, however, it had done nothing but crawl. -More than one farmer had heard it behind him -and wondered why it took so long to pass, but -it had never dallied and dawdled so long before. -Almost at once it had gathered speed and -slithered by, and the man inside had turned -with a friendly hail. He was a stranger, so they -said afterwards, with a puzzled air, but at the -time they answered the hail as if he were one of -themselves.</p> -<p class="pnext">But Simon, at least, had no intention of -hailing anybody just then. Indeed, he was fast -losing both his sense and his self-control. He -slapped the reins on the horse's back, making -urgent, uncouth sounds, and doing his best to -yank it into a sharper trot. It plunged forward -with an air of surprise, so that the old folks -bumped in their seats, knocked against each -other and were jerked back. Presently it -bundled itself into an aged gallop, while Simon -clicked at it through his scanty teeth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, master, what are you at!" -Sarah protested, gripping the rail. "We've no -call to hurry ourselves, think on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's yon danged car!" Simon growled, -feeling somehow as though he were galloping, too. -He was quite sure now that a boggle was hot -on his track, and the sweat stood on his brow -as he slapped and lashed. Losing his nerve -completely, he got to his feet with a shout, at -the same time waving the car to pass ahead. It -obeyed instantly, drawing level in a breath, and -just for a breath slowing again as it reached his -side. The hired driver was wearing a cheerful -grin, but the man leaning out of the back of -the car was perfectly grave. He was a big man, -tanned, with steady grey-blue eyes, fixed on -the old couple with an earnest gaze. Simon, -however, would not have looked at him for gold, -and after its momentary hesitation, the car -shot on. The horse felt its master drop back -again in his seat, and subsided, panting, into -its slowest crawl.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah straightened her bonnet, and tugged -at her mantle upon which Simon had collapsed. -"Whatever took you to act like yon?" she -asked. "There was nowt to put you about as -I could see."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was yon danged car!" Simon muttered -again, but beginning already to feel rather -ashamed. "It give me the jumps, taking so -long to get by. What, I got thinking after a -bit it wasn't a motor-car at all! More like a -hearse it seemed, when it ganged past,--a gert, -black hearse wi' nid-noddin' feathers on top...." He -let out a great sigh, mopping his face as if -he would never stop. "Danged if yon new -strap baint gone and give out first thing!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He climbed down, grumbling at the new -strap which had gone back on him so soon, and -began to add a fresh ornamentation to the -mended gear. The horse stood with drooped -head, emitting great breaths which shook and -stirred the trap. Simon's hands trembled as he -worked at his woolly knot, his eyes still full of -that vision of sweeping plumes. Further down -the road the car had stopped again, but as soon -as Simon had finished, it moved away. It went -over the hill as if it indeed had wings,--feathery, -velvet-black and soft on the misty air....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Another thing happened to them on the -road to Witham, though it was even more -trivial than the last. The first, perhaps, was -meant for Simon,--that face coming out of the -void and trying to look him in the eyes. The -other,--a voice from the void,--was a call to the -woman with the failing sight. But to most -people there come these days of slight, blind, -reasonless events. Something that is not so -much memory as re-vision reaches out of the -past into the present; faint foretellings shape -themselves out of some far-off hour. And then -on the following morning there is sun, and clear -outlines and a blowing sky. The firm circlet of -To-Day is bound again shining and hard about -the narrow earth.</p> -<p class="pnext">For a short time they seemed almost alone on -the processional road. No more cars passed -them, and only occasionally a bicycle or a trap. -Simon felt more than ever ashamed of himself -as his nerve steadied and his excitement cooled. -He had made a bonny fool of himself, he thought, -standing up and shouting as if he was cracked. -Witham would snap at the tale like a meaty -bone, and folk would be waiting to twit him -when he got in. It wasn't as if he were in the -mood for a joke, either, seeing how things were; -he would find it hard to take it as it was meant. -And there was one person at least to whom the -tale would be Balm in Gilead for many a happy -day. He hoped fervently that it might not -reach her ears.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sooner or later it would reach her, of course; -everything that made mock of them always did. -The most that could be hoped for was that they -would not meet her to-day, backed by her usual -sycophantic crowd. Sarah would never stand -any nonsense from her to-day, depressed as she -was by the trouble about her eyes. There would -be a scuffle between them, as sure as eggs were -eggs, and just when he wanted things smooth in -that quarter, too. He thought of giving her a -hint to be careful, and opened his mouth, and -then decided to keep off the subject, and shut it again.</p> -<p class="pnext">Not that they ever <em class="italics">did</em> keep off it, as he knew -perfectly well. Sooner or later it was on their -lips, and certainly always after a day at market. -They had discussed it so often from every -possible point that they did not always know which -it was that spoke. They had long since forgotten -from which of their minds the bitter, perpetual -speeches had first been born. Often they waked -in the night to talk of the hated thing, and slept -and wakened only to talk of it again. There was -nothing good that they had which it had not -poisoned at the source, and no sorrow but was -made a double sorrow thereby. There was -scarcely one of their memories that did not ache -because of that constant sword-point in its heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was on market-day each week that their -fount of bitterness was continually refreshed. -They kept up the old habit for more reasons -than one, but most of all because of this thing -which hurt and cramped their lives. It was like -a vice of some sort which had long become an -imperative need. Each week they came home -with the iron fresh sunk in their souls, and each -week they went again to look on the thing that -they both loathed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now they were right away from the marsh -and the sands, and would not see them until -they returned, although from the moor and -fell-land surrounding Witham it was always possible -to see the bay. Indeed, in this part of the little -county it was hard to get away from the knowledge -of the sea, and even further in, among the -shouldering peaks, you had only to climb awhile -to find the water almost within a throw. On -days like this, however, even on the beach it was -hard to tell which was water and which mist, -and when at last the tide drew silently from -beneath, those who looked at it from the hills -could not tell whether it went or stayed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon, looking drearily around, thought that -the whole earth had a drowned appearance -to-day. It reminded him of the marsh after it had -been swamped by a flood, and the miserable land -emerged soddenly as the sea drew back. Everything -was so still, too, with the stillness of the -dead or drugged. Only the mist moved steadily -and of set purpose, though it was the purpose -of a creature with shut eyes walking in its sleep.</p> -<p class="pnext">Out of the low vapour softly roofing the -fields a gull came flying slowly over their heads. -First Simon saw the shadow of it huge upon the -mist, and then it came swooping and circling -until it hung above the road. Its long, pointed -wings and drooping legs were magnified by the -distorting air, and presently he could see the -colour of its bill and the gleam of its expressionless -eye. It moved in that lifeless atmosphere -as a ship that has lost the wind moves still by -its gathered momentum over a deadened sea, -but when it came over the road it turned to -follow the trap, instead of making away at an -angle towards the west. Simon concluded that -it must have lost its way in the mist, and was -following them as sea-birds follow a boat, but -presently he was reminded of the car in this -leisurely gliding on their track. Like the car, -too, it drew level at last, but this time he was -not afraid. He looked up at it, indeed, but -without much interest, watching its lone vagrancy -with apathetic eyes. It was silent at first as it -circled and swooped, looping its aimless, -unnecessary curves, yet always travelling on. It -might have been a piece of the wandering mist -that had taken shape, yet the sluggish, -unbuoyant atmosphere seemed scarcely to have -sufficient strength to carry its weight. So low -it flew at last that it almost brushed their faces -and the horse's ears, and in fancy he felt the -touch of it damp and soft against his cheek. -And then, as it dropped for the hundredth time, -it suddenly spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah started violently when the cry broke -over her head, the harsh wailing cry that makes -all sands desolate and all moorland lone. She -lifted her face to search the curtained sky as -well as she could, but already the bird had left -them and mounted higher, as if called and -turned to another road. Each cry as it came -was fainter than the last, like the speech of a -passing soul ever further off. There was about -it something of the majesty and terror of all -irrevocable retreats, of those who go forth -unhesitatingly when summoned, never to return. -It left behind it the same impulse to reach out -passionate, yearning arms, to cry aloud for the -fainting answer that would still go on long after -the ear had ceased to take it in.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah sat with her face lifted to the last, -trembling and drawing short, uneven breaths. -Simon was silent until she had settled again, and -then--"It was nobbut a gull," he said, at length.</p> -<p class="pnext">She gave a deep sigh, and folded her hands -tightly before her in their black cotton gloves.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We've plenty on 'em, I'm sure, down on -t'marsh.... I'm that used to them, I never -hear their noise."</p> -<p class="pnext">She turned her head slightly towards him, as -if in a vain attempt to see his face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but it was <em class="italics">that like</em>," she answered in a -suppressed tone. "Eh, man, but it was terble like!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He gave a grunt by way of reply, knowing -well enough what she meant, but knowing also -that there was nothing to say. It was not true, -of course, that he never heard the gulls. He -heard them always, and behind them the voice -that called across the years. But they had long -since ceased to talk about it or to take the voice -of the present for the voice of the past. -Sometimes, indeed, when the cry came at the window -on a stormy night, they started and looked at -each other, and then looked away. But it was -not often that they were deceived, as Sarah had -been to-day. Even now, he felt sure, she was -straining after the voice, that would never cease -crying until it reached the tide.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were passed again before they reached -the town, but this time it was by the cheerful -rap of hoofs. It caught them as they creaked -their way up the last hill,--the smart going of -a good horse that even on the smothered -highway managed to ring sharp. A whip was waved -as the dog-cart dashed by, and the driver turned -back to give them a smile. She was Fleming's -motherless daughter from the 'Ship' Inn across -the sands, and Simon and Sarah had known her -all her life. All her life she had lived looking -out across the bay, and half her life looking a -thousand miles beyond.</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon threw up his hand to her with an -answering smile, a sudden sweetness changing his -whole face. Even Sarah relaxed when she knew -who it was, and both of them brightened for a -little while. They were fond of May, a good girl -who did not change, and who never made light -of those whom Fate was counting out. She had -always had the power to strengthen their hold -on life, to blow their dying courage into a flame. -There was a serene yet pulsing strength about -her that had the soothing stimulus of a summer -tide. Sarah had been jealous of her when she -was young, and had fended her off, but May had -long since found her patient way to her heart. -Now she stood to both the old people as their -one firm link with the past, and as such she was -more precious to them than rubies and dearer -than bright gold.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A good lass!" Simon observed, with the -smile still present on his lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've always thought a deal o' May."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, an' me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Geordie an' all," he added, with a faintly -mischievous air.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah did not speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"An' Jim----"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I want nowt about Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon drew the lash gently along the horse's back.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hear Fleming's been none so well lately," -he resumed, as they rumbled into Witham. -"We mun think on to ax. Happen I could slip -across to t' 'Ship' after we've gitten back. -Tide's about six, isn't it? I could happen do it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fleming's nobbut going the same road as -t'rest on us," Sarah said. "He'll be glad to see -you, though, like enough. But it'll be dark -soon, think on, wi' all this fog."</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's summat queer about t'weather," -Simon said broodingly, knitting his brows. -"Tides is fairish big, and yet it's terble whyet. -Happen we'll have a change o' some sort afore -so long."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've noticed it's often whyet afore a big -change. Seems like as if it knew what was -coming afore it was on t'road."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but it's different, some way.... It's -more nor that. There's a blind look about -things, seems to me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Blind weather for blind folk!" Sarah put -in with a grim laugh. Simon grunted a protest -but she took no notice. "I never thought as I -should be blind," she went on, almost as if to -herself. "I've always been terble sharp wi' my -eyes; likely that's why I've managed to wear -'em out. And I've always been terble feared o' -folk as couldn't see. There's no telling what -blind weather and a blind body's brain may -breed.... Ay, well, likely I'll know a bit more -about they sort o' things now...."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">All old and historical towns seem older and -richer in meaning on some days than they -do on others. But the old and the rich days -are also the most aloof. The towns withdraw, -as it were, to ponder on their past. By some -magic of their own they eliminate all the latest -features, such as a library, a garage, or a new -town hall, and show you nothing but winding -alleys filled with leaning walls and mossy roofs. -The eye finds for itself with ease things which -it has seen for a lifetime and yet never seen,--carved -stone dates, colour-washed houses jutting -out over worn pillars, grey, mullioned houses -tucked away between the shops. The old -pigments and figures stand out strangely on the -well-known signs, and the old names of the inns -make a new music in the ear. The mother-church -by the river seems bowed to the earth -with the weight of the prayers that cling to her -arched roof. The flags in the chancel seem more -fragile than they did last week. The whole -spirit of the town sinks, as the eyelids of the old -sink on a twilit afternoon.</p> -<p class="pnext">Witham wore this air of detachment when -Simon and Sarah came to it to-day, as if it held -itself aloof from one of the busiest spectacles of -the year. The long main street, rising and -dipping, but otherwise running as if on a terrace -cut in the side of the hill, was strung from end -to end with the scattered units of the road. The -ambling traffic blocked and dislocated itself with -the automatic ease of a body of folk who are -all acquainted with each other's ways. Groups -clustered on the pavements, deep in talk, and -overflowed carelessly into the street. Horses' -heads came up over their shoulders and car -wheels against their knees, without disturbing -either their conversation or their nerves. -Sheepdogs hung closely at their masters' heels, or -slipped with a cocked eye between the hoofs. -The shops were full, but those who wandered -outside to wait could always find a friend to fill -their time. Simon's personal cronies jerked their -heads at him as he passed, and the busy matrons -nodded a greeting as they hurried in front of the -horse's nose.</p> -<p class="pnext">He made as if to draw up at the house of a -well-known doctor in the town, but Sarah -stopped him before he reached the kerb. "Nay, -nay," she said nervously, "it'll likely bide. I -don't know as I'm that fain to hear what he's -got to say. Anyway, I'd a deal sooner get my -marketing done first."</p> -<p class="pnext">So instead of stopping they went straight to -the inn where they had put up on market-day -for the last forty years, and where Simon's father -had put up before Simon was born. Turning -suddenly across the pavement through a narrow -entry, they plunged sharply downhill into a -sloping yard. The back premises of old houses -shut it in on every side, lifting their top windows -for a glimpse of the near moor. The inn itself, -small and dark, with winding staircases and -innumerable doors, had also this sudden vision of -a lone, high world against the sky.</p> -<p class="pnext">An ancient ostler came to help Simon with -the horse, while Sarah waited on the sloping -stones. The steep yard was full of traps, pushed -under sheds or left in the open with their shafts -against the ground. Fleming's dog-cart was -there, with its neat body and light wheels; but -May was already gone on her business in the -town. Simon had an affection for a particular -spot of his own, and it always put him about to -find it filled. It was taken this morning, he -found, though not by May. May would never -have played him a trick like that. It was a car -that was standing smugly in Simon's place, with -a doubled-up driver busy about its wheels. Cars -were always intruders in the cobbled old yard, -but it was a personal insult to find one in his -'spot.' He went and talked to the driver about -it in rising tones, and the driver stood on his -head and made biting comments between his -feet. A man came to one of the inn windows -while the scene was on, and listened attentively -to the feast of reason and the flow of soul.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah looked rather white and shaky by the -time Simon returned, thinking of something new -to say to the very last. He left the newest and -best unsaid, however, when he saw her face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd best set down for a bit," he observed, -leading her anxiously towards the inn. "You're -fretting yourself about seeing doctor, that's what -it is. You'd ha' done better to call as we come in."</p> -<p class="pnext">But Sarah insisted that she was not troubling -about the doctor in the least. She had been -right as a bobbin, she said, and then she had -suddenly come over all queer. "Happen it's -standing that long while you and morter-man -sauced each other about car!" she added, with -shaky spirit. "You made a terble song about -it, I'm sure. Trap'll do well enough where it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can't abide they morter-folk!" Simon -muttered, crestfallen but still vexed. "But -never mind about yon. Gang in and set you -down. If I happen across May, I'll tell her to -look you up."</p> -<p class="pnext">A door opened at the end of the dark passage, -showing a warm parlour with flowers and -crimson blinds. The stout landlady came -swimming towards them, speaking as she swam, so -that the vibrations of her welcoming voice -reached them first like oncoming waves. Another -door opened in the wall on the right, and a man -looked out from the dim corner behind.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That you, Mrs. Thornthet? What?--not -so well? Nay, now, it'll never do to start -market-day feeling badly, I'm sure! Come along -in and rest yourself by t'fire, and a cup of tea'll -happen set you right."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah, shaken and faint, and longing to sit -down, yet hesitated as if afraid to step inside. -It seemed to her, as she paused, that there was -some ordeal in front of her which she could not -face. Her heart beat and her throat was dry, -and though she longed to go in, she was unable -to stir. The man inside saw her against a -background of misty yard, a white face and homely -figure dressed in threadbare black. Once or -twice his gaze left her to dwell on Simon, but it -was always to the more dramatic figure that it -returned. There was a current in the passage, -full and sweeping like the wind that went -before the still, small Voice of God. Sarah was -caught by it, urged forward, filled with it with -each breath. But even as she lifted her foot she -heard a woman's voice in the room beyond.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We've Mrs. Will here an' all," the landlady -called, as she swam away. "She'll see to you -if there's anything you want, I'm sure."</p> -<p class="pnext">She might just as well have slammed and -locked the door in the old folks' teeth. At once -they made a simultaneous movement of recoil, -stiffening themselves as if against attack. The -spirit in the passage died down, leaving it filled -to the ceiling with that heavy, chattering voice. -Sarah was well away from the doorstep before -she opened her mouth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know as I won't go right on, -thank ye, Mrs. Bond. I'm feeling a deal better -already,--I am that. If I set down, I'll likely -not feel like getting up again, and I've a deal -to see to in t'town."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Bond swam back, concerned and surprised, -but Sarah was already well across the -yard. Simon, when appealed to, said nothing -but, "Nay, I reckon she'll do," and seemed -equally bent upon getting himself away. They -retreated hurriedly through the arch that led to -the street, leaving Mrs. Bond to say, "Well, I -never, now!" to the empty air. The man's face -came back to the window as they went, looking -after this sudden retirement with a troubled frown.</p> -<p class="pnext">The driver was still working at his car when -he found his passenger suddenly at his side. He -was a queer customer, he thought to himself, -looking up at the moody expression on his -handsome face. He had behaved like a boy on their -early morning ride, continually stopping the car, -and then hustling it on again. He had sung and -whistled and shouted at people on the road, -laughed without any apparent reason, and dug -the unfortunate driver in the back. He was -clean off it, the man thought, grinning and vexed -by turn, and wondering when and where the -expedition would end. People as lively as that at -blush of dawn were simply asking for slaps -before the sun was down. He had steadied a trifle -when they reached the Witham road, but the -queerest thing of all that he did was that -checking behind the traps. The driver was sure he -was cracked by the time they got to the town, -and he was surer than ever when he came out -now and told him to move the car. He might -have refused if his fare had not been so big and -broad, and if he had not already shown himself -generous on the road. As it was, he found -himself, after a moment of sulky surprise, helping -to push the trap into the disputed place. He -still wore his injured expression when he went -back to his job, but it was wasted on his -employer, who never looked his way. Instead, he -was standing and staring at Simon's crazy rig, -and he smiled as he stared, but it was not a -happy smile. Presently he, too, made his way -to the arch, and disappeared into the crowded street.</p> -<p class="pnext">The old folks had seemed in a terrible hurry -to be gone, but, as a matter of fact, they halted -as soon as they got outside. "I couldn't ha' -gone in there whatever," Sarah said, in an -apologetic tone, and Simon nodded, looking -anxiously up and down.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If I could nobbut catch a sight o' May," -he muttered worriedly, searching the crowd. -"May'd see to you right off, and get you a snack -o' summat an' all. I've Mr. Dent to see about -chucking t'farm, and I've a two-three other -things to do as well."</p> -<p class="pnext">But instead of May, who was nowhere to be -seen, a man came shyly towards them from a -neighbouring group. He was like Simon to look -at, only younger and better clad, showing none -of the other's signs of trouble and hard toil. His -voice was like Simon's, too, when Simon was at -his best, but Sarah stiffened when she heard -him speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll not ha' seen Fleming's lass?" Simon -asked, devouring the street, and Will swung -about at once to cast his own glance over the press.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She was by a minute since," he said thoughtfully. -"She can't ha' gone far...." He -hunted a moment longer, and turned shyly back. -"Likely you'll give us a call at Blindbeck this -afternoon?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah said nothing in reply to the invitation, -but Simon gave a nod.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I could do wi' a word wi' you, Will, if you're -not throng. It's about time we were thinking -o' making a change. Sarah's bothered wi' her eyes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, that's bad news, to be sure." Will -was genuinely concerned. He glanced at -Sarah kindly, though with a diffident air. -"Happen a pair o' glasses'll fix you," he said, -in his gentle tones. There was a pause, and then -he jerked his head towards the arch that led to -the inn. "I left my missis behind there, talking -to Mrs. Bond. If you're thinking o' seeing -t'doctor, you'd best have a woman to come along."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I meant to ax May," Simon said hurriedly, -praying for May to spring out of the ground, -and, as if by way of reply, she came out of a -shop on the far side. He plunged forward, -waving and calling her name, and she stopped, -smiling, as he caught her by the arm. She was -grave at once, however, when she heard what -he had to say, and her eyes rested on Sarah with -a troubled look. She gave a nod of comprehension -when he pointed towards the arch, and, -without waiting to hear more, crossed over to -Sarah's side. By the time the stranger appeared -the women had vanished down the street, while -the brothers were making their way to the -market square. This was the second time that -the Thornthwaites had fled at the sound of a -name, and this time, as it happened, May was -sent speeding away, too.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">IV</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">May, however, was only thinking of how -she could be of use, and was very -cheery and pleasant all along the street. Already -she had come across one or two pieces of news, -and laughed about them to Sarah until Sarah -was laughing, too. Once or twice they met -somebody who had something else to tell, and -they stood on the pavement together and -thrashed the matter out. May's laugh sounded -young and gay, and a girlish colour came into -her cheeks. The old figure beside her seemed -to draw vitality from her generous warmth, her -brave air which made an adventure of every -commonplace of life. Sarah even rose to a joke -or two on her own account, and was wonderfully -heartened when they got to the doctor's -house. She would not hear of having a cup of -tea or even a rest. Time enough for such -things, she said with spirit, when they were -through.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had both of them, however, at the doctor's, -because he would not let her go away without. -May took her into the dining-room by his orders, -and found her an easy chair beside the fire. A -parlourmaid brought a tray, and Sarah drank -her tea cheerfully enough, soothed by the -comfort and quiet and the presence of some -sweet-smelling flower. The doctor had been kindness -itself, and had felt a little depressed when he -sent the women away. He did not know that -the last thing that was in their minds as they -sat by the fire was the terrible fact that Sarah -was going blind.</p> -<p class="pnext">They spoke of it, indeed, but only casually, as -it were, before passing on to the greater thing -at its back. Sarah's sense of courtesy forced -her at least to give the doctor a pat on the head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, he was right kind," she said in a matter-of-fact -tone, "and I will say this for him that -he seemed to know his job. I've had my doubts -for a while there was summat badly wrong. I -don't know as it's news to me, after all. As for -yon operation he says might do summat for me, -I doubt I'm over old. We've no brass for -notions o' that sort, neither, come to that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's hospitals," May said,--"homes and -suchlike where they take you free. Plenty of -folk go to 'em, even at your age, and they'd see -to you well enough, I'm sure."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, doctor said that an' all," Sarah assented, -though in an uninterested tone. "But I'd only -take badly to they sort o' spots now," she added, -sipping her tea. "I'd be marching out agen, -likely, as soon as ever I'd set my foot inside of -the door."</p> -<p class="pnext">"They say folks settle wonderfully when -they've made up their minds. It's worth a bit -of trouble, if they put you right."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen," Sarah said casually, and withdrew -it at once. "I don't know as it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're down, that's what it is. You'll feel -better after a bit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know as I shall."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll feel different about it in a day or -two. You'd come through it right as a bobbin. -You've pluck enough for ten."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, I can't settle it one way or t'other," -Sarah said stubbornly, turning a deaf ear. -"Things is a bit ham-sam just now," she added -evasively, fiddling with her cup, and wondering -why she could not bring herself to announce -that they were leaving the farm. But as long -as they did not speak of it, it was just as if -nothing had happened, as though the words -which had framed the decision had never been -said. And yet at that very moment Simon was -probably telling Will and Mr. Dent, and the -news would be racing its way round Witham -until it came to Eliza's ear....</p> -<p class="pnext">"We'll work it some way," May urged, not -knowing of the big pause that had come into -Sarah's life. "You may have to get a word -put in for you, but that's easy done. I'll see the -Squire and Mrs. Wilson and maybe a few more, -and it'll be all fixed up without you putting -yourself about."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're right kind, you are that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's worth it," May said again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay ... I don't know..." Sarah answered -her absently, and then sat up straight. "It'd -ha' been worth it once," she broke out suddenly, -as if letting herself go. "There was a time -when I'd a deal sooner ha' been dead than blind, -but it don't matter much now. There's not that -much left as I care to look at, I'm sure. It's the -eyes make the heart sore more nor half the -time. But I'd ha' felt badly about it if Geordie -was coming back, and I couldn't ha' framed to -see his face."</p> -<p class="pnext">May said--"It's best not to think of such -things," as cheerfully as she could, but her own -face clouded as she spoke, and suddenly she -looked old. Here was the old trouble, if the -doctor had known, that was still big enough to -make the new one seem almost small. Blindness -was not so dreadful a thing to these two -women, who had both of them lost the light of -their eyes so long before. Long ago they had -known what it was to rise and see no shine in -the day, no blue in the sea for May who had -lost her lover, no sun in the sky for Sarah -without her child.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was twenty years now since Geordie had -gone away, clearing out over-seas as casually as -if into the next field. Eliza's eldest from -Blindbeck had gone as well, as like him in face and -voice as if hatched in the same nest. They were -too lively, too restless for the calm machinery -of English country life, and when the call came -from over the ocean they had vanished in a -night. Canada, which has so many links with -Westmorland now, seemed farther away then -than the world beyond the grave. Death at -least left you with bones in a green yard and a -stone with a graven name, but Canada made -you childless, and there was no sign of your -grief beneath the church's wall. Geordie had -written, indeed, from time to time, but though -the letters were light enough on the top, there -was heartache underneath. He was a failure -there, they gathered, after a while, just as they -were failures here; as if the curse of the -Sandholes luck had followed even across the sea, -Jim was a failure, too, as far as they knew, -though their impression of Jim's doings was -always vague. His very name on the page -seemed to have the trick of dissolving itself in -invisible ink, and his own letters were never -answered and barely even read. He had been -fond of his aunt, but Sarah had given him only -the scantiest tolerance in return. Sarah, indeed, -would not have cared if Jim had been burning -in everlasting fire....</p> -<p class="pnext">"We'd a letter from Geordie a month back," -she said suddenly, after the pause, "begging -the loan of a pound o' two to fetch him home."</p> -<p class="pnext">May started a little, and the colour came -back to her cheek. It was a long time now -since anything fresh about Geordie had come -her way. Once she had been in the habit of -going to Sandholes for news, asking for it by -indirect methods of which she was still rather -ashamed. Sarah had been jealous of her in those -days and grudged her every word; and since -she had stopped being jealous there had been -next to nothing to grudge.....</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, he axed for his fare, but we hadn't got -it to send. I don't know as we want him, -neither, if he can't shape better than that."</p> -<p class="pnext">May felt her heart shake as she leaned -forward, clasping her hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've a bit put by I could spare," she began, -with a thrill in her voice. "It could go from -you, Mrs. Thornthet,--he need never know. -You've only to say the word, and you can have -it when you want."</p> -<p class="pnext">A twinge of the ancient jealousy caught -suddenly at Sarah's heart. With difficulty she -remembered May's kindness and the long bond of -the years.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll not spend any lass's savings on my -lad!" she answered roughly, and then softened -again. "Nay, May, my girl, you mean well -enough, but it wain't do. Losh save us! Hasn't -he done badly enough by you, as it is?" she -added grimly. "You should ha' been wed this -many a long year, instead o' hanging on for the -likes o' him!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I doubt I'd never have married in any -case," May said. "I don't know as I'd ever -have made up my mind to leave my dad."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd ha' wed right enough but for -Geordie,--dad or no dad!" Sarah scoffed. -"You're the sort as is meant to be wed, from -the start. Nay, he's spoilt your life, and no -doubt about it, but there's no sense in lossing -the can because you've gone and spilt the milk. -Say you sent him the brass, and he come back -without a cent, what'd be the end o' the business -then? You'd wed him, I'll be bound,--for -pity, if for nowt else. Your father'll likely -leave you a nice bit, and you'd get along on -that, but who's to say how Geordie'd frame -after all these years? Happen he's lost the -habit o' work by now, and it'll be a deal more -likely than not if he's taken to drink."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Geordie wasn't that sort." May shook her -head. "He'll not have taken to drink, not he!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Folks change out of all knowledge,--ay, -and inside as well as out."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not if they're made right," May said -stubbornly, "and Geordie was all right. He was a -daft mafflin, I'll give you that, always playing -jokes and the like, but it was just the life in -him,--nowt else. He was a fine lad then, in -spite of it all, and I don't mind swearing that -he's a fine man now."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay," Sarah said slowly, "fine enough, to be -sure! A fine lad to leave his folks for t'far side -o' the world wi' never a word! A fine man as -can't look to himself at forty, let alone give -his father and mother a bit o' help! ... Nay, -my lass, don't you talk to me!" she finished -brusquely. "We've thought a deal o' Geordie, -me and Simon and you, but I reckon he's nowt -to crack on, all the same!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd think different when he was back," -May pleaded,--"I'm sure you would. And you -needn't fret about me if that's all there is in the -road. I made up my mind long since as I -shouldn't wed. But I'd be rarely glad, all the -same, to have had a hand in fetching him home."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're real good, as I said, but it's over -late." She paused a moment and then went on -again. "Letter went a couple o' week ago."</p> -<p class="pnext">The tears came into May's eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You don't mean as you said him no? Eh, -Mrs. Thornthet, but I'm sorry to hear that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yon sort o' thing's best answered right off."</p> -<p class="pnext">For a moment or two May put her hand to -her face. "Eh, but what a pity!" she -murmured, after a while. "What does it matter -whose brass fetches him home?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It matters to me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It matters a deal more that you're breaking -your heart----"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I'm not! ... Ay, well, then, -what if I be?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me get the brass right off!" May said, -in a coaxing tone. "Let me,--do now! Send -it to him to-day."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've got it into your head he's different, -but I'll swear you're wrong! Different in looks, -maybe, but he'll be none the worse for that. -He always framed to be a fine figure of a man -when he was set. You'd be as throng wi' him -as a clockie hen wi' a pot egg."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah snorted scorn, but her face softened a little.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's forty, but I'll be bound he hasn't -changed. I'll be bound he's nobbut the same -merry lad inside."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen none the better for that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Geordie isn't the sort as grows old--Geordie -an' Jim----"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I want nowt about Jim!" Sarah -flared, and the other laughed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's hard to think of 'em apart even now,--they -were that like. Why, I've mixed 'em -myself, over and over again, and fine fun it was -for them, to be sure!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">I</em> never mixed 'em!" Sarah snapped, with -a blind glare. "I never see a scrap o' likeness -myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, the whole countryside couldn't tell -'em apart,--school-folk an' all! 'Twasn't only -their faces was like; 'twas their voices, too."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hold your whisht!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll remember yon calls they had, Geordie -an' Jim----"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whisht, I tell ye!" There was something -scared as well as angry in Sarah's tone, and May -was hushed into silence in spite of herself. "Jim -was sweet on you, too," the old woman went on -surlily, after a pause. "If there wasn't that -much to choose between 'em, why didn't you -choose him?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There was all the world to choose between -them, when it come to it," May said smiling, -but with tears in her voice. "Once Geordie'd -kissed me, I never mixed 'em up again!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The rough colour came suddenly into Sarah's -face. She tried to turn it away, with the -pathetic helplessness of the blind who cannot -tell what others may be reading there in spite -of their will. May, however, was looking away -from her into the past.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not but what Jim was a rare good sort," -she was saying, with the tenderness of a woman -towards a lover who once might have been and -just was not. "Eh, and how fond he was of -you, Mrs. Thornthet!" she added, turning -again. "No lad could ha' thought more of his -own mother than he did of you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wanted nowt wi' his fondness," Sarah -said in a hard tone. "And I want no mewling -about him now, as I said afore!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, you told him off terrible, poor lad, but -he was that set on you he didn't mind. He -used to fetch you fairings and suchlike, didn't -he,--same as Geordie did? It was never his -mother he fetched 'em for; 'twas always you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eliza never had no need o' fairings, wi' all -she had at her back!" Sarah stood up sharply -and began to grope about for her mantle and -gloves. "You're bringing things back just to -coax me about yon brass!" she added, as May -came forward to help.... "Your father's -none so well, I'm sorry to hear?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He hasn't been himself for a while now, -and he's getting worse. I doubt he's going down -the hill sharp-like, poor old chap!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, our time comes to us all, and we -wouldn't wish for owt else. But it'll be rare an' -lonely for you wi'out him, all the same."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm used to being alone, though I can't say -it's very grand.... You'll have to let me -come and see to you and Mr. Thornthet," she -added, with a cheerful laugh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We're over old for the likes o' you. You -want friends of your own age to keep you -lively-like."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm not so young myself, if it comes to -that," May said. "And I don't know as I ever -had a real friend, barring Geordie-an'-Jim."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's enough o' the two on 'em!" Sarah -snarled, as they went out. "Geordie's been a -bonny friend to you, anyway,--he has that! -We'd best be getting about our business. -Talking o' things as is dead and gone won't -make us any more lish."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Simon'll be bothered about my eyes," she -said presently, as they turned towards the shops. -"It's a deal worse having to tell him than to -put up wi' it myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen you'd like me to tell him for you?" -May suggested, but Sarah shook her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, you'd do it right enough, I'm sure," -she said kindly, "but it'd come best from me. -You've enough o' your own to fash you, wi'out -that. Married folk mun do their own telling -over things like yon...."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">V</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">But though Sarah had held to the telling of -Simon, she seemed in no hurry to break -the dismal news. All morning she clung to May, -as if they drew together as a matter of course, -and May was glad to have her, not only because -she was old and needed help, but because of the -tie between them which had never been loosed. -It was true that they had seen little of each -other of late years, but it had only needed the -talk in the doctor's house to draw them together -again. The dwelling upon a lost hope may -sometimes make the impossible possible and the -dead live, if only for a space. The two of them -had recreated Geordie in the quiet room, so -that his mother had seen him plain before her -darkened eyes, and his sweetheart had felt his -kisses on her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">So all morning they stayed together, even -though they did not speak of him again, because -while they were together the glamour persisted -and the dream remained. Just as one name -had robbed them that day, though they did not -know it, so another name sweetened everything -for them, and for a little space made them rich. -Things might so easily have been as they wished -that it seemed as if even now just a little -determination might twist them into shape. In the -ordinary course of events, and with ever such an -ordinary share of luck, Geordie and May should -have been married long ago, with a home of -their own to offer the old folk at the last. Even -now, so it seemed, Geordie might be somewhere -in the street, in the midst of that crowd of -healthy youth, sturdy manhood and wiry age. -Instinctively, as they came out of each shop, -they looked to find him the centre of some -chaffing group, the laughing, handsome, witty -centre, as he had always been. He would break -away when he saw them to ask his old mother -how she did, and suddenly the greatest and -best of all happenings would have happened, -and they would have heard the miracle of his -speech....</p> -<p class="pnext">This was the spell they wove for each other, -making the day brighter and the world kinder, -and helping them to laugh at things which -otherwise would have been too light to stir their -hearts. Sarah's shopping was dull and soon -finished, but May had an exciting list, and -seemed constantly in need of help. The old -woman actually enjoyed herself as she peered -at stockings and linen buttons, and nipped -longcloth and serge between her finger and -thumb. It might have been wedding-gear they -were after, she told May, with a grim chuckle, -and May laughed and sighed, thinking of a -bottom drawer at home that had been locked for -many years. The salesman laughed, too, and -asked Sarah which of them it was that was -thinking of getting wed, and Sarah, with all her -arduous married life behind her, was yet as -pleased as a young girl. She was a shrewd -marketer, even now, in spite of her sight, -especially in the food-shops, where one nose can -often be quite as useful as a pair of eyes; while, -as for pots and pans, she knew them as a hen -knows her chickens and a shepherd his sheep.</p> -<p class="pnext">They had many a chat over a counter, making -and receiving enquiries about friends, opening -their mouths at any lively piece of news, and -pursing them sympathetically when there was -trouble around the door. In the low shops with -the new windows in their old walls and new -slates on their bowed roofs, little, low doorways -stooping for their heads, little, worn doorsteps -watching for their feet, they heard many a hint -of the romance of evolving or changing trade, -many a precious historic touch that would -never find its way into print. You cannot put -your ear to the past anywhere but in the old -places where men are born to their trades, -where they know the customer's pedigree as -the customer knows theirs, and where -everybody has time for the human as well as the -commercial exchange. Only there can you -learn in the space of an hour wonderful things -about drapery and furniture and hardware and -tea, and feel the glamour of the whole budding -and fruit-bearing earth come into the florist's, -and the atmosphere of old posting-inns into the -pot-shop with the clink of glass. And no man -who is born to his trade is ever a cobbler who -may not look beyond his last. The potman will -tell you where to order a stylish suit of clothes, -and the florist instruct you how to smoke a -ham. And every one of them will tell you, with -or without their knowing it, what they have -learned of human nature and the hope of -eternity in their quiet little town, and with -what eyes they have looked abroad upon the world.</p> -<p class="pnext">All that morning the tides of life swept against -Sarah and her friend as they went about the -streets,--tides of humanity and sympathy, -memory and custom,--all the currents that move -in the air and the blood and the brain when a -hand is shaken or a friendly voice is heard. It -was life at its fullest as it is known to the -northern farmer and his kind, the public recognition -in a given place of the great and intimate -system of which he is a part. The dumb beasts -had their place in it, too,--perhaps the chief -place,--and though only the wise dogs and the -cobby, half-clipped horses were there in the -flesh, the all-absorbing stock was never absent -from the mind. Into every conversation before -so long some grand bull-calf or pedigree shearling -was sure to push its way. Moving among the -warm human tides was like moving in a flood, -while, overhead, low almost as the roofs, the -mist drifted and the sky drooped. Seven miles -away, the sands lay bare as a hand, as if never -in any æon of time would the sea return.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah and May had their dinner together in a -café overlooking one of the steep streets, and, -choosing a table by one of the windows, so that -they could look out, spread their parcels about -them, and discussed their bargains and their -mistakes. They were still happy, as happiness -went for them in those days, because of the -miracle that seemed always possible down in -the street. Folks in plenty were coming and -going on the narrow stair, and as each head -rose above the floor of the room in which they -sat, they felt a thrill of anticipation that was -yet too slight to bring disappointment in its -train. May, perhaps, was slightly puzzled by -the persistence of the feeling in the air, but -Sarah was well used, like all who are old, to the -strange reality of these glamour-days that are -fashioned from the past.</p> -<p class="pnext">They had their heads together over a new-fangled -floor-cloth when the ubiquitous stranger -came quietly up the stairs; and they were so -absorbed, and Sarah was so exuberant in her -wrath, that he had time to look about him -before the final word was said. There was no -room for him, he saw, except at the table where -they sat, and presently, though rather uncertainly, -he advanced a foot. If they had looked -at him, he would have gone forward at once, -but when they lifted their eyes it was only to -turn them towards the window and the street. -The little action seemed somehow to shut him -out, and, drawing back almost guiltily, he found -a seat for himself in the adjoining room. May -looked round as he did so, just as though -somebody had called, and stared intently at the -place where he had been.</p> -<p class="pnext">He could still see them, however, from where -he sat, and he noticed many things about them -as he watched. He noticed, for instance, how -strong and capable May looked, like a woman -who had long since taken her life in her hands -and ruled it well. He noticed her good clothes -and Sarah's shabby ones, and that the -multitudinous parcels were most of them May's. He -noticed the shake which Time, in spite of her, -had put into Sarah's hands, and was puzzled by -the groping manner in which she used her fork. -He noticed that the two of them ate little and -that without much heart, and that always they -turned their faces towards the street. And -finally he noticed how Sarah, in the midst of -her talk, went suddenly rigid as a woman came -into the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was a big woman over sixty years of age, -with smooth, high-coloured cheeks and thick -dark hair that was still a long way from turning -white. Her face said plainly that she had had -a full, comfortable, healthy life, with plenty to -interest her and little to fret. Her brown eyes, -which had been beautiful in youth, had kept -their expression of self-satisfaction wholly -undisturbed. She looked, indeed, what she was, -the mother of a big family, the mistress of a -good-class farm, and the wife of a man whose -banking-account had long since ceased to keep -him awake at nights. She wore a black hat -and a black plush coat, and round her shoulders -was a big fur wrap. In a kid-gloved hand she -carried a muff and a silver-mounted bag, and -May, looking down, saw patent-toed boots -showing beneath her neat, black skirt. Sarah -was sure of them, too, though she could not see -them. It was not with her physical eye that -she looked at Eliza of Blindbeck, Simon's -brother's wife.</p> -<p class="pnext">She, too, had paused in the doorway, looking -for a place, but as soon as she saw the two in -the window, she advanced at once. As she -passed she spoke to several people in a noisy, -hearty voice, that seemed to have a blustering -quality somewhere at its back. By the time she -had reached Sarah's table and come to a stop, -the man in the other room noticed that Sarah -had suddenly grown small....</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, now, if I haven't been seeking you all -over the shop!" Eliza exclaimed. "Will had -it you wanted me most particular, so I've been -looking out. I couldn't find you, though, -whatever I did. I never see folks so set on -keeping out of the road!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah still continued to look as though she -had shrunk. Even her voice seemed to have -grown less. It sounded far off and rather prim.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know as I did, thank ye," was -all she said. "Will mun ha' gitten hold o' the -wrong end o' the stick."</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza looked at her with the little smile which -the sight of Sarah always brought to her lips. -She pulled a chair towards her and collapsed -into it without waiting to be asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, that's queer, to be sure! Will's -no more muddled than most on market-day, as a -rule. I made sure you were wanting me right -off the reel, from what he said."</p> -<p class="pnext">May explained nervously that she had come -to Sarah's assistance instead. Eliza always made -her nervous, because she never seemed to know -she was in the room. "There wasn't that much -to do," she finished hurriedly, stumbling over -her words. "It's a pity Mr. Thornthwaite set -you looking her up."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know.... I'd have been glad -to do anything, I'm sure!" Eliza spoke in her -heartiest tones, so that everybody could hear. -"Nobody can say I'm one as can't be bothered -to lend a hand. I reckon me and Will have done -as much in that line as most." She looked at -Sarah again, the smile growing on her lips.... -"You'll not mind me sitting down with you, I suppose?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"We're through, thank ye. We're just off." Sarah -pushed her plate from her, and began to -fumble shakily for the thread gloves. May -looked across at her with a troubled glance, and -gathered the parcels together, ready to move. -Eliza, however, had no intention of allowing -them to escape so soon.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're surely not thinking o' stirring yet!" -she exclaimed, in a hurt tone. "What, we've -barely as much as passed the time o' day! -You'll not grudge me a word or two after all -my trouble, and me that throng wi' shopping I -didn't know where to turn. Will was as full of -nods and becks as a row o' poppies in a wind, -and I've been fair aching ever since to know -what he could be at."</p> -<p class="pnext">She turned in her seat to call a waitress, and -ordered a substantial meal; after which, -throwing back her fur, she leaned her arms on the -table, and resumed her smile. Everybody in -the place knew what Eliza Thornthwaite was -having for her dinner, and here and there they -were saying to each other, "They do themselves -rarely at Blindbeck.... There's a deal o' brass -to Blindbeck ... ay, Blindbeck's plenty o' -brass!" Eliza knew what they were saying, -of course, and felt unctuously pleased; but -May's heart swelled as she looked at Sarah's -scanty, unfinished repast and the thin thread -gloves that she was smoothing over her wrists. -Eliza had taken off her own gloves by now, -showing thick fingers and short nails. They -were trapped in the alcove as long as she sat at -the table-end, because of her big, overflowing -figure which shut the two of them in. They -would have to push their way past her if they -wanted to get out, and Sarah would never as -much as touch her with the end of a ten-foot pole.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd ha' done what I could, I'm sure," Eliza -was busy telling them again. "I'd never say -no to folks as can't help themselves. But -there,--I needn't ha' bothered about it,--you're as -right as rain. Will had it you were off to -t'doctor's, but I made sure he was wrong. I -haven't seen you looking so well for a month o' -Sundays, and that's the truth."</p> -<p class="pnext">She raised herself as the waitress set a -steaming plate in front of her, and stared at it -critically.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, well, you've not that much to bother -you, have you?" she added kindly, setting to -work,--"nobbut Simon to see to, and just that -bit of a spot? 'Tisn't the same for you as it is -for me, with that great place of our'n on my -hands, and the house fair crowded out."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah did not speak, but she saw, as she was -intended to see, a picture of the good farm where -Mrs. Will reigned supreme, of her sons and -daughters and their friends, and her hired lasses -and lads; and after that another picture of her -own empty home, where no youthful steps -sounded along the floors, and no vibrant young -voices rang against the roof. The pictures hurt -her, as they were meant to do, as well as the -cheerful comment upon her looks. Eliza always -assumed that you were as strong as a horse, -even if you lay on your death-bed at her feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I never heard tell you were badly," she -persisted, fixing her eyes on Sarah's face, which -looked like parchment against the misty pane, -"and surely to goodness I'd be more like to -know than Will?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll do, thank ye. I'm right enough," Sarah -said stiffly, forced into speech at last; and Eliza -laughed victoriously and returned to her food -with zest.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've always been rarely strong, as far as -I can think on. I never heard tell as you ailed -anything in your life. You were always a rare -hand wi' a knife and fork an' all!" she finished, -laughing again. "Will's a bonny fool to go -scaring folk wi' such-like tales."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, but we <em class="italics">did</em> go to the doctor's!" May -broke out warmly, goaded into speech. -"Mrs. Thornthwaite's bothered with her eyes."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Will lifted her own sharply for a fresh -stare at the defenceless face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, now, you don't say so!" she exclaimed -cheerfully, with a quite uninterested air. "It's -bad hearing, is that, but they look right enough, -I'm sure."</p> -<p class="pnext">"They're bad, all the same!" May answered -indignantly, on the verge of tears. "Doctor -says she ought to have an operation right off."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a little pause after the dread word -operation, poignant in every class, but especially -so in this. Even Mrs. Will was shocked momentarily -into quiet. Her fork stayed arrested in -mid-air, half-way to her mouth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I never!" she observed at last, -withdrawing her startled gaze. "Eh, now, I never -did!" She set to work again at her food like -a machine that has been stopped for a second -by an outside hand. "I don't hold much by -operations myself," she went on presently, -growing fluent again. "I doubt they're never no -use. They're luxuries for rich folk, anyway, -seems to me, same as servants and motor-cars -and the like. But you'll likely be asking -somebody for a hospital ticket, so as you needn't pay?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I think not," Sarah said calmly, -though her hands gripped each other in her -threadbare lap.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll never go wasting your own brass on -a job like yon!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, nor that, neither."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll borrow it, likely?" A slyness came -into her voice. She peered at Sarah over her cup.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, no matter where it come from, it -would nobbut be money thrown away. You're -an old body now, Sarah, and folk don't mend -that much when they get to your age. It's real -lucky you've only that small spot, as I said, and -neither chick nor child to fret after you when -you've gone."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah stood up suddenly when she said that, -trying to focus her eyes on Eliza's face. She -stood very stiff and straight, as if she were all -of one piece from feet to crown. A sudden -notion came to May that, if she had thrown off -the shabby black cloak, a column of fierce flame -would have shot up towards the roof....</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll be saying good day, Eliza," was all she -said, however, and moved, but stopped because -the other's skirts still lay before her feet. -Mrs. Will leaned back in her chair, looking up at her, -and smiled.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, Sarah, what's the sense o' getting -mad? I'm real sorry about your eyes, but -you'd ha' done better to tell me right off. As -for saying good day and such-like so mighty -grand, you know as well as me we're looking to -see you at Blindbeck this afternoon." She -paused a moment, and then her voice rose on -an insolent note. "Ay, and you know well -enough what you're coming for an' all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I don't." Sarah seemed actually -to grow in height. She looked down at her -quietly. "Nay, I don't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's a lie, if I say it to all Witham!" -Eliza cried in furious tones. Battle was really -joined now, and her voice, strident and loud, -carried into and disturbed even the street. -Those near turned about openly to listen, or -listened eagerly without turning. The man in -the adjoining room got up and came to the door. -May stood poised for flight, looking from one to -the other of the warriors with dismay.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're leaving Sandholes, aren't you?" -Eliza asked, exactly as if she were addressing -somebody over the road,--"leaving because -you're broke! You're coming to Blindbeck to -beg of Blindbeck, just as you've begged of us -before. Simon told Will, if you want to know, -and Will told me, and every farmer at market'll -be taking it home by now...."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a murmur of discomfort and -disapproval all over the room, and then somebody -in a corner whispered something and laughed. -May roused herself and pushed her way past -Eliza with burning cheeks; but Sarah stood -perfectly still, looking down at the blurred presence -sneering from her chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, we're quitting right enough," she -answered her in a passionless voice. "We're -finished, Simon and me, and there's nowt for it -but to give up. But I've gitten one thing to be -thankful for, when everything's said and done -... I'm that bad wi' my eyes I can't rightly -see your face...."</p> -<p class="pnext">The person who had laughed before laughed -again, and faint titters broke out on every side. -Sarah, however, did not seem to hear. She -lifted a thread-gloved hand and pointed at -Eliza's skirts. "Happen you'll shift yon gown -o' yours, Eliza Thornthet?" she added, coolly. -"I've a deal o' dirt on my shoes as I reckon you won't want."</p> -<p class="pnext">The laughter Was unrestrained now, and Eliza -flushed angrily as she dragged her skirts -reluctantly out of the way. From the corner of a -raging eye she observed the elaborate care with -which Sarah went by.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We'll finish our bit of a crack at Blindbeck!" -she called after her with a coarse laugh; but -Sarah and May were already on the stairs. The -stranger put out his hand to them as they -brushed past, but in their anger and concentration -they did not notice that he was there. Even -if he had spoken to them they would not have -heard him, for through the cloud of hate which -Eliza had cast about them the voice of the -Trump itself would never have found a way. -He stood aside, therefore, and let them go, but -presently, as if unable to help himself, he -followed them into the street. They were soon -cheerful again, he noticed, walking at their -heels, as the charm which they had for each -other reasserted its power. Once, indeed, as -they looked in at a window, they even laughed, -and he frowned sharply and felt aggrieved. -When they laughed again he turned on his heel -with an angry movement, and flung away down -the nearest street. He could not know that it -was only in their memories they ever really -laughed or smiled....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">VI</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Simon had been right in thinking that the -tale of the car would be all over the town -by the time he arrived. He came across it, -indeed, almost the moment that he got in. The -driver of the car had told a farmer or two in -the inn-yard, and the farmer or two had chuckled -with glee and gone out to spread it among the -rest. Of course, they took good care that it lost -nothing in the telling, and, moreover, the driver -had given it a good shove-off at the start. He -told them that Simon had shaken his fist and -wept aloud, and that Sarah had fainted away -and couldn't be brought round. A later account -had it that the chase had lasted fast and furious -for miles, ending with an accident in Witham -streets. Simon encountered the tale in many -lengths and shapes, and it was hard to say -whether the flippant or sympathetic folk -annoyed him most. He always started out by -refusing to discuss the matter at all, and then -wouldn't stop talking about it once he had begun.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, ye see, I thought it was a hearse," -he always growled, when forced to admit that -part of the tale, at least, was true. "Mebbe I -was half asleep, or thinking o' summat else; or -likely I'm just daft, like other folk not so -far." Here he usually threw a glance at the enquiring -friend, who gave a loud guffaw and shifted from -foot to foot. "Ay, a hearse,--yon's what I -thought it was, wi' nid-noddin' plumes, and -happen a corp in a coffin fleein' along inside. -You've no call to make such a stir about it as -I can see," he wound up helplessly, with a -threatening scowl. "Boggles isn't out o' date -yet by a parlish long while, and there's many a -body still wick as can mind seeing Jamie -Lowther's headless Coach and Four!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He forgot to feel annoyed, however, when he -found that his story had made him in some sort -the hero of the day. He could see folks talking -about him and pointing him out as he went along, -and men came up smiling and wanting a chat -who as a rule had no more for him than a -casual nod. Often, indeed, he had only a -dreary time, bemoaning his fate with one or -two cronies almost as luckless as himself; -listening, perhaps, on the edge of an interested group, -or wandering into some bar for a sup of ale and -a pipe. But to-day he was as busy as an old -wife putting the story to rights, and when he -had stopped being angry for having behaved like -a fool, he began to feel rather proud of himself -for having done something rather fine. He -ended, indeed, by laughing as heartily as the -rest, and allowed several points to pass which -had nothing whatever to do with the truth. He -felt more important than he had done for years, -and forgot for a while the press of his troubles -and the fear about Sarah's eyes. Will told -himself that he hadn't seen him so cheerful for long, -and wondered whether things were really as bad -at the farm as his brother had made out.</p> -<p class="pnext">They made a curious couple as they went -about, because in face and figure they were so -alike, and yet the stamp of their different -circumstances was so plain. They had the same -thin face and dreamy eyes, lean figure and fine -bones, but whereas one carried his age well and -his head high, the other had long since bowed -himself to the weight of the years. Will wore a -light overcoat of a modern make, brown boots -and a fashionable soft hat; but Simon's ancient -suit was of some rough, hard stuff that had never -paid any attention to his frame. Will had a -white collar and neat tie; but Simon had a -faded neckcloth with colourless spots, and he -wore dubbined boots that had clogged soles, and -a wideawake that had once been black but now -was green. Eliza often observed in her kindly -way that Simon looked old enough to be Will's -father, but indeed it was in the periods to which -they seemed to belong that the difference was -most marked. Will had been pushed ahead by -prosperity and a striving brood; while Simon -had gone steadily down the hill where the years -redouble the moment you start to run.</p> -<p class="pnext">They had encountered the agent early on, and -fixed an appointment for twelve o'clock; and -afterwards they spent the morning together -until noon struck from the Town Hall. Will -had grown rather tired of hearing the hearse -story by then, and felt slightly relieved when -the time came for them to part. "Nay, I'll not -come in," he demurred, as Simon urged him at -the door of the 'Rising Sun.' "You'll manage -a deal better by yourself. You needn't fear, -though, but what I'll see you through. We'll -settle summat or other at Blindbeck this afternoon."</p> -<p class="pnext">But at the very moment he turned away he -changed his mind again and turned back. "I -can't rightly make out about yon car," he asked, -almost as if against his will. "What, in the -name o' fortune, made you behave like yon?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon muttered gloomily that he didn't know, -and shuffled his feet uncomfortably on the step. -Now that the shadow of the coming interview -was upon him, he was not so perfectly sure as he -had been that the story was a joke. He -remembered his terror when the car was at his back, -his frantic certainty that there were strange -things in the air. He took it amiss, too, both as -a personal insult and from superstition, that the -Town Hall chimes should be playing "There is -no luck about the house" just as he stepped inside.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was nobbut a hired car, wasn't it," Will -went on,--"wi' two chaps in it, they said, as -come from Liverpool way?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's what they've tellt me since," Simon -agreed, "though I never see it plain.... Seems -as if it might be a warning or summat," he -added, with a shamefaced air.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Warning o' what?" Will threw at him with -a startled glance. "Nay, now! Whatever for?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Death, happen," Simon said feebly,--"nay, -it's never that! I'm wrong in my head, I -doubt," he added, trying to laugh; "but -there's queerish things, all the same. There's -some see coffins at the foot o' their beds, and -you'll think on when last Squire's missis died -sudden-like yon hard winter, she had it she could -smell t'wreaths in t'house every day for a month -before."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, you'd best put it out of your head -as sharp as you can," Will soothed him, moving -away. "You're bothering overmuch about the -farm, that's what it is. A nip o' frost in the -air'll likely set you right. Weather's enough to -make anybody dowly, it's that soft."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, it's soft," Simon agreed, lifting his eyes -to look at the sky, and wondering suddenly how -long it had taken the gull to get itself out to sea. -His brother nodded and went away, and he -drifted unwillingly into the inn. The chimes had -finished their ill-omened song, but the echo of -it still seemed to linger on the air. They told -him inside that Mr. Dent was engaged, so he -went into the bar to wait, seating himself where -he could see the stairs. The landlord tried to -coax him to talk, but he was too melancholy to -respond, and could only sit waiting for the door -to open and summon him overhead. He was -able to think, now that he was away from the -crowd and the chaff about the hearse, but no -amount of thinking could find him a way out. -He had already given the agent a hint of his -business, and would only have to confirm it when -he got upstairs, but it seemed to him at the -moment as if the final words would never be -said. After a while, indeed, he began to think -that he would sneak away quietly and let the -appointment go. He would say no more about -the notice to Mr. Dent, and things might take -their way for another year. It was just possible, -with the promised help from Will, that they -might manage to scrape along for another year....</p> -<p class="pnext">He left it there at last and got to his feet, but -even as he did so he remembered Sarah's eyes. -He wondered what the doctor had said and -wished he knew, because, of course, there would -be no question of staying if the report were bad. -He was still standing, hesitating, and wondering -what he should do, when the door of the -Stewards' Room opened above, and a man came out.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was, as somehow might have been expected, -the stranger of the car, otherwise Simon's now -celebrated 'hearse.' Simon, however, had not -looked at him then, and he barely glanced at -him now. It was a blind day, as Sarah had said, -and all through the Thornthwaites seemed -determined to be as blind as the day. The agent -followed him out, looking cheerful and amused. -"I wish you luck all round!" Simon heard him -say, as he shook the stranger's hand, and thought -morosely that it was easy and cheap to wish -folks luck. "This should be the finest day of -your life," he added more gravely, looking over -the rail, and the man going down looked up and -said "That's so!" in a fervent tone. The old -farmer waiting in the bar felt a spasm of envy -and bitterness at the quietly triumphant words. -"The finest day of your life,"--that was for the -man going down. "The heaviest day of your -life,"--that was for the man going up. With a -touch of dreary humour he thought to himself -that it was really he who was going down, if it -came to that....</p> -<p class="pnext">With a feeling of something like shame he -kept himself out of sight until the stranger had -disappeared, and then experienced a slight -shock when Dent called to him in the same -cheery tone. Almost without knowing it he -had looked for the voice to change, and its -geniality jarred on his dismal mood. Somehow -it seemed to put him about at the start, and -when Dent laid a hand on his shoulder, -saying--"Well, Simon!" with a smile, it was all he -could do not to give him a surly snarl by way -of reply. They went into the old-fashioned -room, which smelt of horsehair and wool mats, -and Simon seated himself miserably on the -extreme edge of a chair. Dent went to the -window and lifted a finger to somebody in the -street, and then seated himself at the table, and -said "Well, Simon!" and smiled again. He -was a strongly built man, with a pleasant face, -which seemed rather more pleasant than need -be to his visitor's jaundiced eye.</p> -<p class="pnext">He looked away from it, however, staring at -the floor, and after the first conventional -remarks began his tale of woe, that slow trickle of -disaster which always gathered itself into terrible -spate. "You'll know what I'm here for, sir," -he concluded, at the end of his first breath, -twisting his hat like a tea-tray in his restless -hands. "Things has got that bad wi' us I doubt -we can't go on, and so we've made up our -minds we'd best clear out next year."</p> -<p class="pnext">Dent nodded kindly in answer, but with a -rather abstracted air. He had listened patiently -enough to the slow tale, but Simon had a feeling -that his tragic recital was not receiving the -sympathy it deserved. He began a fresh -relation of the ills which had befallen him at the -farm, intending a grand climax to be capped by -Sarah's eyes; but there were so many dead -troubles to dig out of their graves as he went -along, that the last and most vital dropped -from the reckoning, after all.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, you've likely heard all this before," -he finished lamely in the middle of a speech, -conscious that he had missed his point, though -without being able to say how. "We've had a -bad year this year an' all, and I can't see as it's -any use holding on. Me and my missis fixed it -up as we come in, so if you'll take my notice, -sir, we'll go next spring."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your wife's in town, is she?" Dent asked. -For some reason he looked again at the window -from which he had waved. "How does she take -the thought of leaving the farm?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, sir, we'll both feel it, after all these -years, but I don't know as it's any use calling -out. I put it to her as we'd better quit, and she -agreed to it right off."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wish you'd brought her along," the agent -said, still speaking in a detached tone. There -were some notes on the table within reach of -his hand, and he glanced thoughtfully at them -as he spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon stiffened a little, and looked surprised. -"I'm speaking for both on us, sir, as I said -before."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course, Simon," Dent said, rousing himself. -"I know that. But I'd have liked a word -with her, all the same." His glance went back -to the notes, and he smiled as if at his own -thoughts.... "And so you've really made up -your minds that you'd better go?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Haven't I been saying so, sir, all along?" Simon -was really injured now, and his wounded -dignity showed in his tone. Mr. Dent was -taking the whole thing far too easily, he thought. -First of all, he did not seem to be listening as -much as he might, and then, when the notice -was offered, he actually smiled! Tenants of -forty years' standing do not look to have their -departure speeded with smiles. Simon thought -it heartless, to say the least, and only to be -excused because Mr. Dent did not know what -they had to face. They had not been very -satisfactory tenants, of course,--even Simon -admitted that,--and it was more than likely -that the agent was rather relieved. At least he -was saved the unpleasant task of turning them -out, a duty which, as Simon knew, had seemed -imminent more than once. But they were -respectable folk of good stock, and they were -not entirely to blame because they were failures, -too. Gravity was their due, anyhow, if not -sympathy, but Mr. Dent, on this solemn -occasion, seemed to be failing them in both.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course you know you're late with your -notice?" he observed presently, looking up. -"You ought to have made up your minds a -couple of months ago."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, we're late, I know, but we weren't -thinking of owt o' the sort then. I'm sorry if -we've put you about, but you'll not have that -much trouble in getting rid of the farm. It's -nobbut a small spot, you'll think on. It'll let -right off the reel."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's been going back a long while, though," -Dent said thoughtfully, and then felt penitent -as the old man flushed. Just for the moment -he had forgotten that Simon was in the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I know you've had pretty rough -luck," he went on hastily, trying to cover it up. -"Sandholes holds the record for every sort of -mischance. It sounds like one of the old -fairy-tales," he added, laughing,--"curses and all -that! ... But I can't help thinking it would -have been better for everybody if there had -been a change earlier on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, you've gitten your change now, -and no mistake about it!" Simon retorted -angrily, deeply hurt. There was something -wrong with the scene, though he could not tell -what it was. He only knew that he had not -expected it to go in the very least like this.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It should have been made long since if it -was to do you any good...." Dent did not -seem to notice that there was anything amiss. -He sat, tapping the table, deep in thought, -while Simon seethed.... "Sure you couldn't -put on for another year?"</p> -<p class="pnext">This change of front upset his visitor so -completely that he dropped his hat. He sat glaring -at Mr. Dent with a dropped mouth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I just couldn't!" he snapped at -last, wondering whether he was on his head or -his heels. "Losh save us!" he added angrily, -"haven't I tellt you I meant to gang ever since -I come in? It'll take me all my time to hang -on till spring, as it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've run it as close as that?" Dent -enquired, and Simon gave a grunt.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, and I'm not the first as has done it, -neither!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Couldn't your Blindbeck brother see to give -you a hand? He's done well for himself, I -should say, and his children are getting on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's given us a hand more than once -already, has Will, but there's no sense in -throwing good money after bad. We'll have to quit -next year, if we don't this. Farm's going back, -as you say, and I'm over old to pull it round. -I can't keep going for ever, nay, nor my missis, -neither."</p> -<p class="pnext">He remembered Sarah's eyes as he spoke, -and how they were enough to clinch the matter -in themselves, but he was too offended even to -mention them by now. There was no telling -to-day how Mr. Dent would take the tragic -news. He had smiled and looked cheerful over -the notice to quit, but Simon felt he would not -be able to bear it if he smiled at Sarah's eyes. -Indeed, it was all he could do to keep a hold on -himself, as it was,--first of all hearing that he -ought to have gone long since, and then being -told to stop when he'd settled to clear out!</p> -<p class="pnext">The trend of his injured thought must have -reached the other at last, for he roused himself -to look at his sulky face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You needn't think I'm trying to shove the -place down your throat!" he said, with a laugh. -"But I certainly thought you'd rather be stopping on!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon felt a little appeased, though he took -care not to show any sign. He growled -miserably that they had never intended to quit -except under a coffin-lid.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is where you want a lad of your own to -take hold,--a lad with a good wife who would -be able to see to you both. You've no news, I -suppose, of that son of yours that went overseas?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A word or two, now and then,--nowt -more. Nowt as'd set you running across -t'countryside to hear."</p> -<p class="pnext">"No chance of getting him home again, is -there?" Dent enquired, and Simon stared at -the floor and shook his head. He must have -felt a change in the atmosphere, however, for -suddenly he began to repeat what Sarah had -told May, how Geordie had written for money, -and there had been none to send. The words -came easily after he had made a start, and for -the time being he forgot his resentment and -injured-tenant's pride.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I reckon you know, sir, how it all come -about. There'll ha' been plenty o' folk ready -to tell you, I'll be bound, and them as knowed -least'll likely ha' tellt you most. We never had -but the one lad, Sarah and me, and, by Gox! but -he was a limb! The queer thing was that -my brother Will's eldest should ha' been the -very marrow o' mine,--looks, voice, ways, ay, -and character an' all. Will and me were whyet -enough lads, I'm sure; it was terble strange -we should breed a pair o' rattlehorns like yon. -You couldn't rightly say there was any harm -to 'em, but they were that wick they mun -always be making a stir. Being that like, too, -helped 'em rarely when there was chanst o' -their getting catched. Each on 'em had a -call for telling when he was about. Jim's was -a heron like, but Geordie's was nobbut a -gull----"</p> -<p class="pnext">This time it was his own glance that went to -the window, as again he remembered the bird -gone out to the waves. When Dent spoke, his -mind came back from its flight with a tiny jerk.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then they made off to Canada, didn't they, -the two lads? You told me something about it -when I first came."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, they cleared off in a night without a -word or owt, and they've never done no good -from then to this. Sarah sticks to it Geordie -would never ha' gone at all if it hadn't been for -Jim, and Will's missis sticks to it t'other way -about. I reckon there was nowt to choose -between 'em myself, but my missis never could -abide poor Jim. He was that set on her, though, -there was no keeping him off the spot. Right -cruel she was to him sometimes, but she couldn't -drive him off. He'd just make off laughing and -whistling, and turn up again next day. Of -course, she was bound to have her knife into -him, for his mother's sake. She and Eliza have -always been fit to scratch at each other all their -lives."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Long enough to finish any feud, surely, and -a bit over? It's a pity they can't bury the -hatchet and make friends."</p> -<p class="pnext">"They'll happen make friends when the -rabbit makes friends wi' the ferret," Simon -said grimly, "and the blackbird wi' the cat! -I don't say Sarah isn't to blame in some ways, -but she's had a deal to put up wi', all the same. -There's summat about Eliza as sets you fair bilin' -inside your bones! It's like as if she'd made up -her mind to pipe Sarah's eye straight from the -very start. She never said ay to Will, for one -thing, till Sarah and me had our wedding-day -fixed, and then danged if she didn't make up -her mind to get wed that day an' all! She fixed -same church, same parson, same day and same -time,--ay, an' there's some folk say she'd ha' -fixed on t'same man if she'd gitten chanst!" He -paused for a moment to chuckle when he -had said that, but he was too bitter to let his -vanity dwell on it for long. "She tellt parson -it was a double wedding or summat o' the sort, -but she never let wit on't to Sarah and me until -she was fair inside door. Sarah and me walked -to kirk arm in arm, wi' nowt very much -by-ordinar' on our backs; but Eliza come scampering -up in a carriage and pair, donned up in a -white gown and wi' a gert, waggling veil. Will -was that shammed on it all he couldn't abide to -look me in t'face, but there, I reckon he couldn't -help hisself, poor lad! Sarah was that wild I -could feel her fair dodderin' wi' rage as we -stood alongside at chancel-step. She was that -mad she could hardly shape to get her tongue -round Weddin'-Service or owt, and when we -was in t'vestry I see her clump both her feet on -the tail of Eliza's gown. She would have it -nobody knew she was as much as getting wed -at all,--they were that busy gawping at Eliza -and her veil. She was a fine, strapping lass, -Eliza was, and I'd a deal o' work keeping my -eyes off'n her myself! ... ay, and I won't say -but what she give me a sheep's eye or so at the -back o' Will as well...." He chuckled again, -and his face became suddenly youthful, with a -roguish eye. "But yon was no way o' starting -in friendly, was it, Mr. Dent?</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, things has gone on like that -atween 'em more or less ever since, and I won't -say but Sarah's gitten a bit of her own back -when she's gitten chanst. Will having all the -luck and such-like hasn't made things better, -neither. Blindbeck's ganged up and Sandholes -has ganged down,--ay, and seems like to hit -bottom afore it stops! Will and me have hung -together all along, but the women have always -been at each other's throats. It riled Eliza -Jim being always at our spot, and thinking a deal -more o' Sarah than he did of her. Neither on -'em could break him of it, whatever they said -or did. He always stuck to it Sandholes was -his home by rights."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pity the two of them aren't here to help -you now," Dent said. "Those runabout lads -often make fine men."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I doubt they've not made much out, -anyway round." Simon shook his head. "Likely -they're best where they be," he said, as Sarah -had said on the road in. He sat silent a moment -longer for politeness' sake, and then was stopped -again as he rose to go.</p> -<p class="pnext">"May I enquire what you intend to do when -you leave the farm?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The old man's face had brightened as he -talked, but now the shadow came over it again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can't rightly tell, sir, till I've had a word -wi' Will, but anyway he'll not let us come to -want. He's offered us a home at Blindbeck -afore now, but I reckon his missis'd have summat -to say to that. Ay, and mine an' all!" he -added, with a fresh attempt at a laugh. "There'd -be lile or nowt done on t'farm, I reckon, if it -ever come about. It'd take the lot on us all -our time to keep them two apart!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Again, as he finished, he remembered Sarah's -eyes, and once again he let the opportunity pass. -He was on his feet now, anxious to get away, -and there seemed little use in prolonging this -evil hour. Mr. Dent would think they were for -ever whingeing and whining and like enough -calling out before they were hurt.... He moved -hurriedly to the door, conscious of a sense of -relief as well as of loss, and Sarah's eyes missed -their final chance of getting into the talk....</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're likely throng, sir," he finished, -"and I'll not keep you." He put a hand to the -latch. "Anyway, you'll kindly take it as we'll -quit next year."</p> -<p class="pnext">Dent said--"No, Simon, I shan't do anything -of the sort!" and laughed when the -other shot round on him again with open mouth. -His expression was grave, however, as he ended -his speech. "I want you to think it over a bit first."</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon felt his head going round for the second -time. The red came into his thin face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't rightly know what you're driving -at, sir," he said, with a dignified air. "I -reckon I can give in my notice same as anybody else?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, Lord, yes, Simon! Of course." Dent's -eyes went back to the notes. "Yes, of course -you can."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, then?" Simon demanded stiffly. -"What's all this stir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, ... it's like this, you see ... you've -missed your time. It was due a couple of -months back, as I said before."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but you're not that hard and fast -about notice, as a rule! Tom Robison did -t'same thing last year, you'll think on, and you -let it pass. Seems to me you're by way of -having a joke wi' me, sir," he added, in a pitiful -tone, "and I don't know as it's kind, seeing -how I'm placed."</p> -<p class="pnext">Dent jumped to his feet and came across to -lay a hand on his arm.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's only that I've a feeling you'll change -your mind, Simon," he said earnestly, "and -you'll be sorry if you've spread it about that -you're going to quit. A week, say,--a week -won't make that much difference, will it? -Can't you let it stand over another week?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You said a minute back 'twas a pity we'd -stopped so long! I can't make out what you're -at, Mr. Dent,--I'm danged if I can!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The agent laughed and left him to stroll back -again to the window, where he stood looking -down into the full street.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perhaps we're neither of us as clear in our -minds as we might be!" he observed, with a -cryptic smile. "The weather, perhaps; it's -only a dreary day. I'm not one of the folks -who like November grey."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tides is big an' all," Simon found himself -saying, unable to resist the lure. "We've had -t'watter up agen t'wall every night this week. -Last night I went out for a look afore it was -dark, but it was that thick it was all I could do -to tell it was there at all. There was just -summat grey-like lifting under my nose; but, -by Gox! it was deep enough for all it was so whyet!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Dent shivered at the drear little picture -which the other had conjured up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know how you sleep," he said, -"perched on the edge of things like that! It -would give me fits to have the sea knocking -twice a day at my back door."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, it knocks," Simon said slowly, with a -thoughtful air. "There's whiles you'd fair -think it was axing for somebody to come out.... -You'll mind yon time you were near -catched by the tide?" he went on, after a -pause. "Eh, man, but I was in a terble tew -yon night!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was my own fault," Dent laughed,--"not -that it was any the nicer for that! I -knew the time of the tide, but I'd forgotten the -time of day. It was a day something like this, -much the same dismal colour all through. Lord, -no!" He shivered again. "I've not forgotten, -not I! I'll never forget pounding away from -that horrible wave, and finding myself, quite -without knowing it, back below the farm!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was my missis saved you that night," -Simon said, "and a near shave it was an' all! -Tide would ha' got you even then if it hadn't -been for her. We heard you hollerin' and came -out to look, but we couldn't see nowt, it was -that dark. I thought we'd fancied it like, as -we didn't hear no more, but Sarah wouldn't -hear of owt o' the sort. She would have it she -could see you liggin' at bottom o' t'bank, and -she give me no peace till I'd crammelled down -to look."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you may be sure I'm grateful enough," -the agent said, as they shook hands. "I -wouldn't wish my worst enemy a death like -that. I hope it's been put to the credit side of -her account."</p> -<p class="pnext">He followed this caller out as he had done the -last, and again, leaning over the railing, he -called "Good luck!" Simon, looking up, full -of resentment, saw the face above him bright -with smiles. He went out with offended dignity -written in every line.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="eliza">PART II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">ELIZA</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was two o'clock and after before the old -folks left Witham. Simon had gone to his -dinner on quitting the agent, and at his favourite -eating-house he encountered others who wanted -the hearse-story at first hand. He was not at -all averse to talking about it by now, and after -a good dinner it improved with the telling every -time. Once more he forgot the interview of the -morning as well as the coming one in the -afternoon, and stayed smoking and talking and -sunning himself in the fine atmosphere of success.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah, however, had neither pipe nor -admiring circle to soothe or enliven the heavy, -dragging hours. She went into the inn after the -'Ship' dog-cart had rattled off, and tried to -gather a little comfort from the parlour fire; -but the glamour of the morning had departed -with May, and now that she was alone she felt -depressed and tired. The doctor's verdict, -which had passed her by at the time, rushed back -upon her, shaking her nerves and chilling her -heart. She began to wonder what it would be -like to be really blind, and in a sudden panic -she made a strained attempt to discern the -pictures and almanacks in the room, tracing -the patterns of the antimacassars with a shaking -finger, and the shapes of the chair-backs and -table-legs. When she was really blind, Simon -would have to do for her instead of her doing -for him, but he would only make a poorish job -of it, she felt sure. There would still be plenty -for both of them to do, in spite of the fact that -'things had come to an end.' There were the -long winter months to be got through before -they left, as well as the work and worry of -changing house. May would help her, no doubt; -she could always count on May; but she knew -that she did not want to owe her more than she -could help. It was partly a new uprising of -dead jealousy, of course, as well as pride refusing -dependence upon one who did not belong. But -at the back of all there was a more just and -generous motive than either of these,--the -consciousness that May had given too much -already, and should not be called upon for more. -Months ahead though it lay, she began -presently to think a woman's thoughts about -the breaking-up of the home. Little as they -possessed of any value in itself, there would be -many things, she knew, that they would want -to keep. There were certain things, expensive -to renew, which still had a flicker of useful life, -and others, useless to others as well as -themselves, which were yet bone of their bone and -flesh of their ancient flesh. She began to make -a list in her head, and to value the furniture as -well as she knew how. She had been to many a -sale in her time, and had a sufficiently good -memory of what the things had fetched, as well -as of whose house had eventually raked them in. -She saw Sandholes full of peering and poking -folk, a chattering crowd stretching into the -garden and yard, and forming a black -procession along the roads of the marsh. She saw -traps and heavy carts and laden human beings -slowly departing with the stuff of her human -life, while the shreds that were left to her, piled -and roped on a waiting lorry, looked poorer -than ever in the light of day. She saw the -garden gravel printed by many boots, and the -yard trenched and crossed by wheels. She saw -the windows open in a house from which nobody -looked, and scrubbed, bare floors which seemed -to have forsworn the touch of feet. She saw the -lorry pass reluctantly away into the great, -homeless place that was the world. And last -of all she saw herself and Simon shutting the -door that finally shut them out. There was all -the difference in ten thousand worlds between -the sound of a door that was shutting you in -and the sound of the same door shutting you out....</p> -<p class="pnext">She had always been a still woman, when she -had had time to be still, but she found it -impossible to be still to-day. She began to walk -up and down, listening for Simon's voice, and -in the strange room she hurt herself against the -furniture, and received little shocks from the -cold surface of strange objects and the violent -closing-up of the walls. She gave it up after a -while, forcing herself to a stand, and it was so -that Simon found her when he opened the door at last.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had a further wait, however, when he -found that the trap had managed to oust the -car from the coveted place. At first he was -rather afraid that the hearse-story had earned -him too many drinks, but even to marketing -eyes the fact was plain. He chuckled as he -walked from one to the other, saying "Gox!" -and "Did ye ever now?" and "Losh save us!" -and "Wha'd ha' thowt it!" The driver was -not to be seen, or the wait might have been -longer still, but as it was they were mounted -presently on the emaciated seats, and Simon -jerked up the horse in a last spasm of victorious glee.</p> -<p class="pnext">For some miles he talked of nothing but the -sensation that he had caused in Witham, and -how he had found the hearse-story everywhere -in the town.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd nobbut to turn a corner," he announced -proudly, though pretending disgust, "but sure -an' certain there'd be somebody waiting to tax -me on t'far side! There was Burton, and Wilson, -and Danny Allen and a deal more, all on 'em -ready wi'--'Well, Simon, and what about yon -hearse?' I could see 'em oppenin' their mouths -half a street off!" he chuckled loudly. "Folk -clipped me by t'arm and begged me tell 'em -how it was, and t'others rushed out o' shops -and fair fell on me as I ganged by!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"They mun ha' been terble hard set for -summat to do," Sarah answered unkindly. -"What did you make out wi' Mr. Dent?"</p> -<p class="pnext">At once the shadow fell again on the fine sun -of Simon's success.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, you may well ax," he growled, "but -I'm danged if I rightly know! He was that -queer there was no doing owt wi' him at all. -Seemed to be thinking o' summat else most o' -the time,--gaping out at winder and smiling at -nowt. He was a deal queerer nor me, hearse or -no hearse, and so I tell ye!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you give notice in, didn't you? You -likely got that fixed?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I did and I didn't, after a manner o' -speaking. I kept handing it in like, and he kept -handing it back. He said we'd best take a bit -more time to think."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We've had time and plenty, I'm sure!" -Sarah sighed,--"ay, that we have! ... I -reckon you tellt him about my eyes?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon stirred uneasily when she mentioned -her eyes, remembering how they had played in -and out of his mind, but never once managed -to come to the front.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I didn't, if you want to know, -because I never gitten chanst. I didn't rightly -know what to say, neither, come to that. You -catched doctor right enough, I suppose?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, we hadn't to wait or owt. And he was -right kind, he was that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen he hadn't a deal to say, after all?" -Simon enquired hopefully, and she gave a faint laugh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nobbut that if I didn't have an operation -right off, I'd be as blind as a barn-door owl by -next year!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon said "Gox!" and jerked the horse so -violently that it nearly went through the hedge. -"Losh, missis, that's bad!" he went on -dismally, when he had straightened out. "It's -worse than I looked for, by a deal. I've always -been terble feared of operations and such-like. -What's to be done about it, d'ye think?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nowt."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, but dang it!" he cried sharply,--"we -can't leave it like yon! If there's owt -they can do for you, we mun let them try. -They say some folk come out right enough, wi' -a bit o' luck."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Luck isn't much in our way, I doubt," she -said, with a sigh, "and it'd mean begging o' -somebody, I reckon, and I've had enough o' -that. May says there's free spots for such as -us, but there's not that much free in this world -as I've ever seen. I doubt it'd mean somebody's -brass or other going to pay for it in the end."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I could ax Will----" Simon began hurriedly, -without pausing to think, but she -stopped him before the well-known formula was out.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, master, you'll do nowt o' the -sort, so that's all there is about it! You're his -brother, and you've a right to do as you choose, -but I'll never take a penny piece from him if -it's nobbut for myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He'd have his hand in his pocket for you -right off. He's never been close about brass -and suchlike, hasn't Will."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but it's Eliza's brass as well, you'll -think on, and she's close, right enough! She'd -see me blind and on t'streets afore she'd lift a -hand, and if happen she did lift it, I'd strike it -down! Nay, master, you can ax what you like -for yourself, but you'll ax nowt for me. As for -the farm and Mr. Dent, we're bound to get shot -of it now, whatever happens. The sooner things -is fixed the better I'll be suited, so I'll thank you -to get 'em seen to as soon as you can."</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Tisn't my fault they're not fixed this very -minute!" Simon grumbled, feeling hardly used.... -"Did you happen across Eliza in Witham?" -he asked her suddenly, after a while.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah laughed faintly again, though this time -it was an echo of triumph.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We'd a few words together in t'caif," she -answered tranquilly, "and wi' a few folks -looking on an' all. She was setting it round we -were broke, and had gitten the sack, and a deal -more; but I reckon I give her summat to bite -on afore I was through.... Seems as if you -an' me had been having a sort o' side-show," she -finished, with a grim smile. "Ay, well, we've -given Witham summat to crack about, if we've -never done nowt else...."</p> -<p class="pnext">Their minds had been full of Eliza as they -drove to market, and now they were busy -turning her over in their minds again. Sarah's -account of her splendid effort cheered and -uplifted them for a while, but they knew only too -well that their sense of superiority would not -last. Even their victories, ever so dearly -bought, turned to Eliza's advantage in the end. -Life was on the side of Eliza, for whom all -things were certain to work out well. Heaven -was on the side of Eliza, whose face had never -registered a single memory of pain. The Simon -Thornthwaites never got over the feeling that -somehow she had played them false, had -wheedled by undue influence the balance of -justice off the straight. Alone, they were able -to see some dignity in their tragic lives, but once -with Eliza they were suddenly cheap,--mere -poor relations fawning at her skirts. They saw -themselves framed as such in her mocking eyes, -and felt for the moment the shameful thing -they seemed.</p> -<p class="pnext">She mocked them,--that was the evil thing -she did; that petty, insidious crime which -human nature finds so difficult to forgive. -Mockery by comparison was her method, and -one which was almost impossible to fight. In -all that Eliza said and did, by her attitude and -her dress, she invited the world to mark the -incredible gulf that yawned between the Simon -Thornthwaites and the Wills. She had made -her opening point on the double wedding-day, -though the actual cause of the enmity lay -further back than that. Eliza, indeed, had -intended to marry Simon and not Will,--Simon, -the elder, the better-looking, and even the -smarter in those far-off days. But in this, at -least, Sarah had won the fall, and Eliza had -never recovered from her surprise. From that -moment the spoilt beauty had seen in the other's -plain person an opponent worthy of her steel, an -antagonist whom it would take her all her life -to down. Sneer and strike as she might, she -could never be quite sure that she had finally -got home, and in mingled inquisitiveness and -wrath she sneered and struck again. There -must be an end sometime to this spirit that -would not break, but even after forty years -there was little sign. Something deathless in -Sarah rose up again after every stroke, and was -always left standing erect when her world was -in the dust.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah thought of her wedding-day as they -drove through the torpid afternoon, and under -the low sky that was shut over the earth like a -parsimonious hand. The wedding-day had been -soft and sunny and sweet, with a high blue sky -that looked empty from zone to zone, until, -looking up until you were almost blind, you saw -that you stared through layer upon layer of -tender-coloured air. The mountains had been -like that, too, clear yet vapour-veiled, and even -the blue of the sea had been just breathed upon -as well. It was a real bridal day, with its hint -of beauty only just withheld, its lovely actual -presences that still dropped curtains between. -The earth-veils had had nothing in common -with Eliza's flaunting mockery of a veil, nor -was there anything in common between the -mysteries behind. The strong mountain was -more subtle and shy than Eliza, the terrible sea -more tender, the great sky with its hidden -storms more delicate and remote. Eliza's bold -and confident beauty had clashed with them as -a brass band clashes with a stretching, moonlit -shore. It was for Sarah in her stiff straw bonnet -and brown gown that the bridal veils of the -world had been sweetly worn.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had thought herself neat and suitable -when she looked in the glass, and had found it -enough, because all her instincts were neat and -plain. It was a cruel irony of fate that had -forced her into a morbid, passionate groove. -In those days she had never as much as heard -of obsessions of the mind, and would not have -believed they could touch her, if she had. She -had asked nothing of life but that it should be -clean and straight, and still found it hard to -believe in the shadowed, twisted thing which it -had proved.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her parents had died before Simon had made -her a home, so she had gone out to service and -had been married from her 'place.' She found -him waiting when she went downstairs, in clothes -as neat and suitable as her own, and he had -given her a bunch of lilies of the valley, and a -little Prayer Book with a brown back. They -had always been matter-of-fact as lovers, and -they were very matter-of-fact now, but Sarah, -from this far-off distance, knew that, after all, -they had not missed the thrill. Even in the -small-windowed, silent house that had a maiden -lady for tenant there was a touch of the exquisite -thing,--the same delicate rapture that was -spreading its diaphanous wings over the coloured -sea and land....</p> -<p class="pnext">They walked to church by the path across the -fields, and the cattle raised their heads to look at -Simon's suitable clothes, and the inch of escaped -ribbon frisking on Sarah's suitable bonnet. They -went arm-in-arm through the still churchyard, -where their forefathers, lying together, saw -nothing strange in this new conjunction of old -names; and arm-in-arm up the empty aisle -towards the cave of the chancel that had the -flower of its rose window set in it like a jewelled -eye. Their boots sounded terribly loud on the -uncarpeted tiles, and they trod on tiptoe when -they crossed the stones of the vaults, because -the names looking up seemed somehow to turn -into the uplifted faces of the prostrate dead. -And presently the stone of the chancel-steps -had stopped them as with a bar, bidding them -think, in that last moment, whether the feet of -their purpose had been rightly set.</p> -<p class="pnext">They felt very small as they waited among -the climbing pillars and under the spring of the -groined roof, smaller and smaller as the -unmarked minutes passed and nobody came. A -shaft of light from the clerestory touched them -like the point of a sacrificial knife, showing their -faces humble and patient and a little too anxious -to be glad. A bird flashed in through the open -chancel-door, sat for a moment on the altar-rail -and sang, and then caught sight of the sunlit -country and flashed out again. It had not even -seen the waiting couple who were so very quiet -and so terribly small. And then, just as they -were at their smallest, the Pageant of Eliza had -swept in.</p> -<p class="pnext">There were many to tell them afterwards of -the sensation in the village when Eliza in -gorgeous apparel had come driving with trampling -horses to the old lych-gate. At the sound of the -horses' hoofs and the first flash of the veil the -houses had emptied themselves as a teapot -empties itself when you tilt the spout. Veils -were the prerogative of the 'quality' in those -days, and that in itself was sufficient to make a -stir. In a moment there were groups on the -green, children running up the street and folk -pressing into the churchyard, and in a moment -more the veiled yet flaunting figure had passed -into the church, an over-rigged ship up the -straight estuary of the aisle.</p> -<p class="pnext">Behind Simon and Sarah the place was suddenly -full of noise, whispering and shuffling and -treading of heavy feet, and the ringing of nailed -boots on the smooth tiles. Presently all that -had been inside the church had gone out as if -swept by a broom, and all that had been outside -had come in with a blatant rush, filling it with -curious faces and crowded bodies and suppressed -laughter and muttered speech. Into the quiet -hour that had been meant for Simon and Sarah -alone, Eliza came full tilt with a tumult of -sight-seers in her train. Not for her was the -peace between the springing pillars which rent -before her like a curtain rent by hands. She -trod with bold, self-satisfied strides over the dead -faces which to her were only names. She created -a vulgar raree-show out of the simple blessing of -a tranquil God.</p> -<p class="pnext">Only outside the sea and the mountains kept -their mystery till the knot was tied. The -sacred hour of Simon and Sarah was withdrawn -silently into higher courts.</p> -<p class="pnext">All that was human in Sarah, however, remained -at the mercy of the broken hour below. -Now and then she caught a glimpse of Eliza's -face through the veil, or a gleam of her shining -gown as she twisted and turned. She thought -to herself savagely that Eliza looked a fool, but -that did not prevent her from feeling, by -contrast, a fool, too. Even Will, shy and -ashamed, but tricked out in unaccustomed -gauds, helped to point the comparison between -the pairs. She remembered how her cheeks -had burned and her heart battered and her -knees shook, while she strained her ears for the -least sign of mirth from the crowded pews -behind. The whole parody of her precious hour -was bitter beyond words, but it was the -mocking distinction in clothes that went furthest -home. For the rest of her life Sarah was sharply -conscious of all that Eliza wore, and hated it -right to the sheep that had carried the wool on -its innocent back, and the harmless cotton-plant -that had grown for her unaware.</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza sailed down the aisle again amid giggles -and loud asides, but Simon and Sarah crept -quietly out of the church by the door through -which the singing-bird had flown. They stood -in the grass among the rose-bushes on the graves, -and watched Eliza drive triumphantly away. -The parson followed them out to make a kindly -speech, which they were far too angry and -humiliated to hear. He wanted to tell them -that God had certainly liked them best, but he -knew they would not believe him if he did. -They were so certain that it was Eliza who had -had the beautiful hour. They were too simple -to know that it was only they who had any of -the beauty to carry home....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">All their lives Simon and Sarah had been -the victims of Eliza's Method. Nothing -they had, horse, cow or cart, but was sooner -or later measured by Blindbeck standards and -condemned. Their furniture figured in Eliza's -talk as often as her own,--their humble -horsehair abased by her proud plush, her stout -mahogany lording it over their painted deal. -They had scarcely a cup or plate, hay-crop, dog -or friend, but it was flung in the scale and -instantly kicked the beam. People grew tired -of Eliza's Method after a while, but long before -they had ceased to enjoy it its work was done. -By that time they knew to the last inch exactly -how the Simon Thornthwaites had fallen behind -the Wills. The Simons were stamped in their -eyes as poor relations to the end of time, and -they treated them differently, spoke to them -casually, and as often as not forgot that they -were there. But Simon and Sarah did not forget, -or cease to notice, or cease to be hurt. Always -they felt pilloried by Eliza's blatant cry,--"Look -here, upon this picture, and on this!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Only in one respect had Sandholes and the -Simons ever managed to hold their own. Simon's -son had been every whit as fine as Will's, for all -the wooden spoon that was hanging over his -cradle. It was true that more and more children -came to Blindbeck, passing Sandholes by, but -that was nothing to Sarah as long as Geordie -was at hand. Geordie alone seemed more than -sufficient to right them in the eyes of an -Eliza-magicked world. He was a rattlehorn and a -limb, but he had stuff in him, all the same, and -sooner or later he would prove that stuff to the -world and the lordly Wills. All the working -and scraping of those years went to the one -passionate purpose of doing Eliza down. Those -were the happiest years of Sarah's life, because -for the time being she had a weapon against her foe.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet even here she found herself mocked by -the amazing likeness between the brothers' -sons. It had an uncanny effect upon her, as -of something not quite human, even, indeed, -as if there were something evil at its back. -She had an uneasy feeling that, in some -mysterious way, this was still another expression -of Eliza's malice. The pride of stock in Simon -and Will was stirred by this double evidence of -breed, but Sarah, when people mistook the lads, -was fretted to fierce tears. There were times -when she even hated the smile on Geordie's -lips, because of its exact similitude on Jim's. -Most of all she hated herself when the wrong lad -called and she answered before she knew, or -waved to a figure over the sands, and it came -laughing and was not her son....</p> -<p class="pnext">She had much the same sense of something -not quite canny about Jim's extraordinary -passion for Sandholes and herself. It was -almost, indeed, as if she feared it, as if she -knew that in the future it might do her harm. -Even she was not always proof against his -laughing, kindly ways, and nothing but some -such fear of a clutching love could have made -her steel her heart. Through all her absorption -in her splendid Geordie she could not help -guessing at the greater depths in Jim. Geordie -had yet to learn in exile what Jim had learned -on the very threshold of his home. She -remembered nursing him through an illness much -against her will, and even now she could not -shed that clinging memory and its appeal....</p> -<p class="pnext">It was perhaps because of this hidden terror -that she never used his affection for her against -his mother. She was often tempted to do so, -for Eliza was sore in spite of her loud denials, -and when the Method was hard at work on the -furniture or the crops it would have been -pleasant to give her news--and generally none -too pleasing news--of Jim. Often enough the -words were on her tongue, but she never spoke -them. Always something held her back from -taking this easy means to strike.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her ironic reward, however, was such as -might well have made her think herself -bewitched, for even out of her self-denial it was -Eliza who gathered triumph. As time went on, -and more and more lads appeared at Blindbeck, -she deftly changed her tactics by a single twist -of the wheel. She handed over to Sandholes, -as it were, the one member of the Blindbeck -family that did not come up to Blindbeck -standards. Not that she ever said as much in -words, or relinquished any claim that was -likely to be of use. She merely contrived to -convey the impression that he belonged by -nature more to the Have-Nots than the Haves, -to the penniless Simons rather than the wealthy -Wills. The impression hardened, however, -after the lads had run away, and Jim had -finally nailed his sympathies to the mast. His -father, indeed, did not give him up without a -struggle, but Eliza became ever more detached -from the wastrel who was her son. Smilingly, -so to speak, she dropped her thumbs and let -him go. It was not long before strangers were -thinking him Simon's son instead of Will's, -and presently even Sarah awoke to the fact that -she was saddled with the Blindbeck failure as -well as her own.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a smug young cousin of Eliza's who -finally opened her eyes, at one of those family -feasts which Simon and Sarah were always -expected to attend. Eliza was never at her -brightest and best without them, as she very -rightly said,--the organ-grinder without his -necessary monkey, the circus-master without his -jumping clown. As usual, the Simon Thornthwaites -heard their belongings catalogued and -found utterly wanting, and, as usual, for the -time being, shared the general sentiment that -they were beneath scorn. The comparisons, -passing in and out of shippon and parlour, -leaping from feather-bed to sofa, and over -root-crops and stacks of hay, arrived finally at the -missing sons.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Our Harry's for learning the violin," Eliza -informed the tea-party, swelling with conscious -pride. "Master wouldn't hear tell o' such a -thing at first, but me and the girls talked him -round between us. I reckon he'll be suited all -right, though, when he hears our Harry play. -Ah, now, Sarah, but wouldn't that ha' been -just the thing for Geordie-an'-Jim? They were -that fond o' music, the poor lads, though they'd -no more tune to the pair on 'em than a -steam-whistle. Eh, well, poor things, fiddle-playing -and suchlike wouldn't ha' been no use to 'em -where they're at. Brass wasted, that's what it -would ha' been, so it's just as well...."</p> -<p class="pnext">Harry, also swelling with pride, looked for -some sign of admiration from his aunt, but did -not get it. Eliza soothed him with a meaning glance.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The trouble is you've got to keep your -hands terble nice for the violin. Our Harry's -terble set on keeping his hands nice.... -Geordie-an'-Jim would never ha' come to -such-like quality ways, would they, Sarah? I never -see such hands as the two on 'em used to show -at meals! I mind you said they got sent home -that often from school, at last the folks took -to washing 'em on the spot! I used to be -right sorry for you, Sarah, I was that, wi' their -gert finger-marks all over the walls and the -chair-backs. It's queer how different folk -shape, I'm sure, even when they're as you -might say near-bred. Our Harry frames rarely -at folding tablecloths and the like, and no more -dirt to 'em when he's finished than if he was a lass!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The town-bred cousin gazed complacently at -his hands, and observed that, if Geordie-an'-Jim -were in Canada, as he understood, from all -accounts it was much the best place for them. -Eliza nodded lugubriously, the tail of her eye -on Sarah's unstirred face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, they're in Canada right enough, and -like to be,--aren't they, Sarah?--for a goodish -while yet. They wrote home as they'd sworn -to make their fortunes afore they crossed the -pond again, but fortunes isn't as easy come by -as some folk seem to think. Me and Will likely -know as much about it as most, having managed -middlin' well, but even for the best o' folk it -isn't as simple as it sounds. There's always -somebody at you one way or another, wanting to -share what you've earned wi' your own hands. -You've just got to keep lifting your feet right -high off the ground, or you'll have folk hanging -on to your shoe-wangs all the time. Ay, -Geordie-an'-Jim'll find as fortunes don't come that slape -off the reel! 'Tisn't as if it was our Harry and -Tom here, ay, and Bill and Fred an' all, as'll -find everything ready for 'em when they want -to start on their own. They'll step into good -farms as if it was stepping out o' bed, and they'll -have Blindbeck behind them and its brass as -well. They'll have a bit o' their own, come to -that; I started 'em saving-books myself. Eh, -yes, they'll do right well, but I doubt there's -never farm nor Post Office book as'll come to Geordie-an'-Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Later in the day, the smug cousin, trying to -be kind, had enquired of Sarah whether Geordie-an'-Jim -were twins. She was too angry at first -to answer him at all, and by the time she -managed to get her breath her mood had -changed. They were alone at the time, and -even Sarah could sometimes laugh at herself -when Eliza was out of sight. The touch of -humour freed her heart for an instant, and at -once it rose up and stood by the lad whose -mother had cast him off. Jim was suddenly -before her, with his tricks of affection and his -borrowed face, his constant cry that he had only -been born at Blindbeck by mistake. "I'm your -lad, really, Aunt Sarah," she heard him saying, -as of old. "I'm your lad really, same as Geordie -is!" Jim was forty by now, but it was a -child's voice that she heard speaking and -couldn't deny. The cousin repeated his -question, and she smiled grimly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Twins? Ay ... and as like as a couple -o' peas. As like as a couple o' gulls on the edge -o' the tide...."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was the only time in her life that she ever -stood openly by Eliza's hated son. But -perhaps even that one occasion may count in the -final sum of things....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Now they had left the high-road and were -making south-east through the winding -lanes. Their shoulders were turned to the sea, -though in that lost world of the mist only the -native could tell where the bay was supposed to -lie. It was one of the dead hours, too, when -even the salt goes out of the marsh-air, and no -pulse in it warns you subconsciously of the -miracle coming. Between the high-mounted -hedges it was still and close, and beyond them -the land rose until its dank green surface stood -soft against the sky. All the way Simon looked -at the land with a critical eye, the eye of the -lover which loves and asks at the same time. -He looked at the ploughland and knew the -rotation through which it had run and would -have to run again; at rich grass-land which -seemed never to have known the steel, and -fields which, at rest for a hundred years, still -spoke to some long-rusted share. He loved it, -but he thought of it first and foremost as good -material for the good workman engaged on the -only job in the world. It was always the land -that he coveted when he came to Blindbeck, -never the house. Eliza had made of the house -a temple to the god of Blessed Self-Satisfaction, -but even Eliza could not spoil the honest, workable land.</p> -<p class="pnext">The farm kept showing itself to them as they -drove, a quadrangle of long, well-kept buildings -backed by trees. When the sun shone, the -white faces of house and shippon looked silver -through the peeping-holes of the hedge, but -to-day they were wan and ghostly in the deadening -mist. The turned beeches and chestnuts were -merely rusty, instead of glowing, and seemed to -droop as if with the weight of moisture on their -boughs. The Scotch firs on a mound alone, -stark, straight, aloof, had more than ever that -air of wild freedom which they carry into the -tamest country; and the pearly shadow misting -their green alike in wet weather or in dry, -was to-day the real mist, of which always they -wear the other in remembrance.</p> -<p class="pnext">The farm had its back well into the grassy -hill, and the blind river which gave it its name -wound its way down to it in a hidden channel -and went away from it in a hidden dip in a field -below. There was water laid on at Blindbeck, as -Sarah knew, with a copper cylinder in a special -linen-room, and a hot towel-rail and a -porcelain bath. Simon's particular envy was the -electric light, that marvel of marvels on a -northern farm. He never got over the wonder -of putting his hand to the switch, and seeing the -light flash out on the second to his call. Once -he had sneaked out of the house on a winter's -night, and in the great shippon had turned the -lights on full. Eliza, of course, had been nasty -about it when she heard, but Will had -understood him and had only laughed. Later, -swinging a lantern in his own dark shippon, Simon -had thought of those switches with envious -longing. He did not know that they had taken -the warm glamour out of the place, and slain in -a blow the long tradition of its beauty. The -lantern went with him like a descended star as -he moved about, and out of the cattle's breath -wove for itself gold-dusted halos. There had -been something precious about it all before, -some sense of mystery and long-garnered peace, -but to-night he could only remember Blindbeck -and its modern toy. For the time being he -ceased to feel the pull of the sweetest chain in -the world, which runs straight back through all -the ages to the Child in the Bethlehem Stall.... -There was a billiard-table at Blindbeck, too, -with more switches to tempt Simon, and a -well-laid tennis-lawn in the neat garden by the -stream. On the far side of the farm was a great -highway running north and south, as well as a -main-line station over the drop of the hill. It -seemed as if everything was made easy for those -who lived at Blindbeck, from the washing of -pots and the moving of stock to the amusement -and education of the bairns.</p> -<p class="pnext">Folk who came to Blindbeck for the first time -believed that at last they had found the farm of -all their dreams. They called it an Earthly -Paradise, a model miniature village, a moral -object-lesson, a True Home. They came to it -between well-cropped fields, marked by trim -hedges and neat stone walls, and through -uniformly painted gates secure in hinge and -hasp into a tidy yard. They looked with -pleasure at the shining knocker on the green -house-door and the fruit tree lustily climbing -the warm south wall. They looked with delight -at the healthy, handsome family, the well-placed -buildings and the show of pedigree stock. -They looked at Will as he went shyly by, and -said that his wife was undoubtedly the better -horse. They looked at Eliza and said that she -was the Housewife of Romance. When they -went away they told others of this Paradise -which was Blindbeck, and the others came in -their turn and looked and said the same. But -to Simon and Sarah it was plain Purgatory and -nothing else, and with each gate that they -loosed they unloosed a devil as well.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a party at Blindbeck this afternoon, -as long custom might have led them to -expect. It was part of Eliza's Method to gather -a party together when the poor relations were -due. There was always a noisy crowd, it seemed -to the Simons, when they were tired, or when -they had any particular business to transact. -On the day after the lads had flown there had -been an unusually large crowd, with faces that -looked like masks to the parents' tired eyes.... -Will was fond of young folk, and made no -objection to the stream of 'company' passing -beneath his roof. His shy, quiet eyes watched -the young tide of life surging ahead, with Eliza -floundering like a porpoise in its midst. He was -content only to watch, but he was not stranded, -like the thirsty Simons; the waves still lapped -about his feet. He could see youth and the pride -of youth without the sense of desolation which -embittered his brother and took his brother's -wife by the throat. Simon was always surly -when he came to Blindbeck, while Sarah was -like a bomb in the hand which any unconscious -soul might throw. Will did not know that for -them every lad that they looked at should have -been Geordie, and each lass a lass of their own -with Geordie's face. He was sorry and -sympathetic, but he did not know those things. It -was Eliza who knew, and used the knowledge -for her private ends. You could always be sure -that Eliza knew where your hidden things were kept.</p> -<p class="pnext">To-day, tired as they were with the hours in -town, and already reacting from their great -decision, a jovial party seemed more than they -could stand. Signs of it reached them as they -came to the last gate, making Sarah draw in her -lips and Simon scowl. The sounds seemed -intensified by the stillness of the day, crossing -and jarring the mood of Nature as well as that -of the approaching guests. Faces were pressed -to panes as they rattled up, but nobody came -out to give Sarah a hand down, or to offer to -help Simon with the horse. They were too -common a sight to arouse any interest or even -courtesy in that house.</p> -<p class="pnext">She climbed down gropingly, and he led the -horse away, leaving her standing, waiting, in the -empty yard. She stood with her back turned -to the kitchen window, conscious, though she -could not see them, of the eyes that were raking -her shabby figure through the glass. The -sounds of merriment burst out afresh, and she -winced a little, though she did not move. They -were laughing at her, she felt sure, but there was -nothing new to that. They often laughed, she -knew, since she had ceased to be able to stop -them with a glance. She shivered, standing -there, and her bones ached with the damp, but -she was in no hurry to enter the warm, crowded -room. It was better to shiver in the coldest -spaces of earth than to be shut into Heaven -itself with Eliza and her tongue.</p> -<p class="pnext">The green house-door with its brass knocker -was close at her left hand, but she did not -attempt to open it and go in. That was a -privilege only accorded to the rich and proud, -not to a poor relation come to beg. Nevertheless, -it was one of her hidden dreams that someday -she would enter by that grand front-door. -In the Great Dream Geordie came home with a -fortune in his hands, so that all doors, even the -Door of Blindbeck, instantly stood wide. They -would drive up to it in a smart cart behind a -fast young horse, with Geordie, a pattern of -fashion, holding the reins. His mother would -be beside him, of course, in crackling silk, with -a velvet mantle and a bonnet of plumes and -jet. Simon, the lesser glory, would have to sit -behind, but even Simon would be a sight for -Blindbeck eyes. When the Dream came true, -the house could be as full of pryers as it chose, -with crushed noses and faces green with envy -set like bottle-ends in every pane. The -farm-men would come to the doors and gape, and -even the dogs would stop to sniff at so much that -was new. Geordie would jump down, reins in -hand, and bang the brass knocker until it -shook the house, while Sarah, secure in the -presence of her golden lad, would sit aloft and -aloof like any other silken queen. Soon they -would hear Eliza's step along the sacred, -oil-clothed passage; and she, when she opened -the door, would see their glory framed beyond. -Sarah would throw her a graceful word, asking -leave to step inside, and climb down with a -rustle of silk on the arms of her husband and -son. She would set her feet on the snowy steps -and never as much as trouble to look for a mat. -With a smile she would offer her hostess a -kindly, kid-gloved hand. In the whole armour -of the successful mother she would bear down -upon her foe....</p> -<p class="pnext">It was one of those things that seem as if they -might happen so easily, and never do,--never -do. Simon returned presently, accompanied by -Will, and they entered the house as usual -through the old stone porch. No dog even -looked aside at them as they crossed to the -kitchen door. No portent of coming wonder -shed a sudden sunlight on the day. The old -trap was tipped on its shafts behind a sheltering -wall. The old horse, himself mere waiting food -for the nearest hounds, munched his way -happily through his feed of Blindbeck corn.</p> -<p class="pnext">Will talked shyly as he led the way, trying -to brighten the melancholy pair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You must have a sup o' tea before we get -to business," he said to his brother, "and -Sarah can rest herself while we have our crack. -We're over soon wi' tea to-day, but I reckon -you won't mind that. You'll be tired likely, -and it's none so warm. I'll be bound Simon'll -have a thirst on him anyway!" he smiled to -Sarah. "He's done a deal o' tattling, Simon -has, to-day!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He could not get any response from them, -however; indeed, they scarcely seemed to hear. -The fear of Eliza was upon them, that was always -so strong until they were actually in her -presence, the same fear that had sent them scuttling -like scared rabbits out of the Witham inn. -Sarah was struggling with the usual jealous -ache as they entered the spacious, cleanly place, -with the kindly smell of new-baked bread filling -the whole house. She knew as well as the -mistress where the kitchen things were kept, -the special glories such as the bread-maker, the -fruit-bottler, and the aluminium pans. The -Blindbeck motto had always been that nothing -beats the best. Half her own tools at home -were either broken or gone, and there was only -a blind woman to make shift with the rest as -well as she could. Little need, indeed, for a -great array, with the little they had to cook; -and little heart in either cooking or eating since -Geordie had gone away....</p> -<p class="pnext">Will opened the door of the main kitchen, -and at once the warmth and jollity sweeping -out of it smote the shrinking visitors like an -actual blast. The party were already at table, -as he had said, and met the late-comers with a -single, focussed stare. It was one of their chief -bitternesses, indeed, that they always seemed to -arrive late. Eliza was at the back of it, they -felt almost sure, but they had never been able -to discover how. No matter how they hurried -the old horse, asked the hour of passers-by, or -had Simon's old watch put as right as it would -allow, they never seemed to arrive at the right -time. They could not be certain, of course, -that she had watched for them from upstairs, -and at the first sign of their coming had hustled -the party into tea, but somehow or other they -knew it in their bones. Things happened like -that, they would have told you, when you were -up against Mrs. Will; things that never by any -chance would have happened with anybody else.</p> -<p class="pnext">The room was cloudy to Sarah as she went in, -but jealousy had long ago printed its details on -her mind. She knew what the vivid wall-paper -was like, the modern furniture and the -slow-combustion grate. Once it had been a beautiful -old houseplace with a great fire-spot and a -crane, an ingle-nook, a bacon-loft, and a chimney -down which both sun and moon could slant a -way. Eliza, however, had soon seen to it that -these absurdities were changed, and Sarah, -though she affected contempt, approved of the -changes in her heart. It was true that she -always returned to Sandholes with a great -relief, but she did not know that its bare austerity -soothed her finer taste. She only knew that her -mind expanded and her nerves eased, and, -though grief went with her over every flag and -board, a cool hand reached to her forehead as -she went in.</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon included in one surly glance the faces -round the loaded table, the bright flowers, the -china with the gilded rim, and the new -window-curtains which he would never even have seen -in any house but this. "Plush, by the look on -'em, and the price of a five pun note!" he -thought resentfully, as he stood waiting to be -given a place, and wondering which of the -people present he disliked the most. There -were the two Swainson lasses from the nearest -farm, with their young duke of a brother, who -was in a Witham bank. There was a Lancashire -youth whom Will had taken as pupil, and -Stephen Addison and his missis, who were both -of them preaching-mad. He held forth at -chapel and she at Institute meetings and the -like, and folk said they kept each other awake -at nights, practising which of them could do it -best. There was Sam Battersby of Kitty Fold, -who never knew where his own heaf ended and -other people's began, and the familiar smug -cousin, long since formally pledged to Eliza's -eldest lass. There was a grandchild or two, -and of course the Blindbeck brood, with the -exception of a couple of married daughters and -the obliterated Jim.... It was small wonder, -indeed, that, after all those years, nobody -missed him in that upcoming crowd.</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza's hearty voice, that was never hearty -at core, rose like a strong-winged, evil bird at -the unwanted guests. The sight of them seemed -to surprise her so much that she dropped a gold-rimmed cup.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Surely to goodness, Simon and Sarah, yon's -never you! I'd give you up an hour back or -more, I had indeed. You've been a terble while -on t'road, surely,--a terble while after us? -But there,--I always forget how fast yon grand -little mare of ours gets over t'ground! You'd -need to start sooner than most folk wi' your -poor old crock."</p> -<p class="pnext">She broke off to throw a remonstrance at -Will, who was bundling two of his daughters -out of their seats to make room for their uncle -and aunt.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, Will," she called vexedly down the -table. "What d'ye think you're at? Leave -t'lasses alone, can't you? Let the poor things -be! If it's a chair you're wanting, there's one -here by me as'll suit Sarah just grand. Sarah -can't abide a chair wi' a cane bottom,--says it -rubs her gown. It's right enough, too, I'm sure, -wi' velvet and the like,--(I made a bonny mess -o' yon grand gown I had when Annie Belle was -wed),--but I can't see as it'll do any harm to a -bit o' poorish serge. Anyway, Sarah can have -the best plush to set on, if she sets here, and, as -for Simon, you're for ever sticking him where I -can't so much as see the end of his nose! You're -never thinking I'm still sweet on him, surely," -she added, laughing, "or that happen he'll be -making sheep's eyes at me, as he used to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She looked at the young folk, and chuckled -and winked, and they nudged each other and -laughed, too. But Sarah did not laugh as she -waited behind the chairs, or Simon, red to the -ears, and recalling the machinations of Eliza's -youth. He pushed one of his nieces roughly out -of his way and took her place, while Sarah -went slowly to seat herself on the red plush -chair that was warranted not to hurt her poor -patched gown.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope there's summat for you, I'm sure!" -Eliza went on, when the giggling and whispering -had died down, and Simon's thin cheeks had -lost their furious red. She cast an anxious -glance down the well-filled table, but her tone -was complacency itself. "Folks as come late -can't expect to find everything just so.... -Ay, I give you up a long while back. Sally -here'll tell you I give you up. 'Sally,' I says to -her, 'likely yon old horse'll be put to it to do -the extra bit, and so they've happen thought -better on't, and gone straight home. You're -that used to good horses, Sally,' I says, 'you -don't rightly know how poor folks has to shift. -Not but what they'll get a deal better tea here -than they will at home, Sally,' I says, 'and -though I says it as shouldn't, that's the truth! -Ay, they'll come to tea, I'll be bound, Sally,' I -says, but I changed my mind when I thought -on the old horse."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah said nothing in reply to this, partly -because her brain was swimming with the heat -of the room, but chiefly because she never did -say anything until Eliza was well ahead in the -race for speech. This particular method helped -her to reserve her strength, but at the same -time it deepened the bitterness in her heart. It -would have been better for both of them if they -could have got the inevitable tussle over at the -start; exhaustion on both sides might have -brought at least a pretence at amity in its train. -But it had always been Sarah's instinct to hold -herself back, and time had turned the instinct -into a fixed need. For the moment, at least, -her strength was certainly to sit still.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I doubt there's no tea for you just this -minute, Sarah," Eliza said, affecting great -concern as she lifted the tea-pot lid. "Sally, my -lass, you'd best see about mashing another pot. -There'll be a deal o' folk sending up for more in -a brace o' shakes, and we can't have them -saying they're not as well-tret at Blindbeck as -they're used. Not as anybody's ever said it -yet as I've heard tell, though you never know -what folks'll do for spite. Most on 'em get -through their three cups afore they're done, -and me like as not just barely through my first. -Eh, but I used to be terble bothered, just at the -start, keeping folks filled and their mugs as they -rightly should! You bairns wasn't up then, of -course, but we'd farm-lads in the house, and wi' -a rare twist to 'em an' all! Yon's a thing you've -never been bothered with, Sarah, wi' such a -small spot and lile or nowt in the way o' work. -You'd nobbut a couple o' hands at any time, -had you, and not them when you'd Geordie-an'-Jim? -You've a deal to be thankful for, I'm -sure, you have that! You've always been able -to set down comfortable to your meat, instead -o' fretting yourself to skin and bone seeing as -other folk had their wants."</p> -<p class="pnext">Here Mrs. Addison offered to pass her cup, -and then thought better of it, remembering the -new brew. Eliza, however, urged it forward. -Apparently she had discovered concealed virtue -under the tea-pot lid.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, Mrs. Addison, there's a sup in -the pot yet! You've no call to look shy about -it,--I wasn't talking at you! ... Pass -Mrs. Addison the cream, Mary Phyllis, and waken -up and look sharp about it! Blindbeck tea's -none the worse, I reckon, for a drop o' Blindbeck -cream...." She returned the cup, smiling -benignly, and then pretended to have lost Sarah -and suddenly found her again. "Losh, Mrs. Simon, -you're that whyet I'd clean forgot you -were there! You'll not want to be waiting on -Sally and the fresh brew. I'll wet leaves again -for you just to be going on with!"</p> -<p class="pnext">So Sarah got the bottom of the pot after a -little more talk, a hunt for a clean cup and an -address on the value of the spoons. Half a -cup--consisting chiefly of tea-leaves--was passed -to Simon, but was intercepted on its way by -Will. Simon did not notice the manoeuvre, -being busy glowering at a niece's shoulder -turned sulkily on him from the left; but Eliza -saw it from her end of the table and turned an -angry red. She never forgot Simon's indifference -to her as a girl, and would have made him -pay for the insult if she could. She could not -always reach him, however, because of the -family tie which nothing seemed able to break. -But Sarah, at least, it was always consoling to -think, could be made to pay. There were times -when all her reserve could not hide from a -gleeful Eliza that she paid....</p> -<p class="pnext">So Simon got the new brew without even -knowing that it was new, while Sarah drank the -unpleasant concoction that was weak at the -top and bitter as sea-water at the bottom. -Sally came in with another great brown pot, -and sat down languidly at her aunt's side. She -and the smug cousin had been engaged for -years, but there seemed little prospect of the -wedding taking place. She had been a -handsome girl, and was good to look at still, but -there were handsomer Thornthwaites growing -and grown up, as apparently the cousin was -quick enough to perceive. To-day he had -found a seat for himself beside Mary Phyllis, -who kept glancing across at her sister with -defiant pride. Sally had a cheap town-look -nowadays, the cousin thought, not knowing -that she had assumed it long ago to please -himself. Now that he was more mature, he -preferred the purer country type of Mary Phyllis, -as well as the fresher atmosphere of her youth. -Sally talked to young Swainson, and pretended -not to care, but she was too unhappy to bother -about her aunt. The Simon Thornthwaites were -boring at any time, like most permanently -unlucky people, and to-day she was too worried -even to try to be kind. So Sarah, after whom -she was called, and who was her godmother to -boot, got very little to eat and only the dregs -of things to drink; and nobody at all rose up -to deliver her from Eliza.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Addison had opened her mouth very -impressively more than once, but it was only now -that she got a chance to speak. In spite of their -boasted fluency, both she and her husband had -always to yield the palm to Mrs. Will. Mrs. Addison, -however, always watched her chance, -while Stephen was simply flabby, and did not -try. She and Eliza in the same room were like -firmly opposing currents, flowing strongly in -the same stream.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Addison's to preach at this mission -they're having, next week," she announced -proudly. "There's to be a Service for men -only, and our Stephen's to give 'em a talk. I -won't say but what he'll do as well as a real -minister, even though I do happen to be his -wife. Likely you'll think on about it, and send -some of your lads along, Mrs. Will?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza was quite unable to conceal her disgust -at a distinction achieved by somebody not her own.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll do my best, I'm sure," she assented -casually and without looking at her, "though I -doubt they'll want coaxing a bit wi' a -broom-handle or a clout!" She disliked being called -Mrs. Will, and knew that Mrs. Addison did it -with fell intent. It was galling to be reminded -that, in spite of his success, Will had still not -managed to make himself into the elder -son.... "I can't say they're that set on either -church or chapel unless it's to see a lass," she -went on, busy with the cups, "and I doubt -they don't reckon much o' sermons unless they're -good. They've been better eddicated than -most folk, you'll think on, so they're hard to -suit. 'Tisn't likely they could do wi' -second-hand preaching from some as happen never -went to school at all."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. A'ddison made a sudden attempt to speak, -but choked instead, while Eliza looked as -innocent as a large-sized lamb.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, I've heard a deal o' sermons as was -just waste breath," she went on kindly, "and -that's the truth. All the same, I'll likely look -in at Mission myself, one o' these days, if I can -get away. I'm always glad to set still after a -hard week, and to get a look at other folks' -jackets and hats. Not that there's much to -crack on at chapel, that way.... I'm a deal -fonder o' church. I was wed at St. Michael's, -you'll think on,--ay, and Sarah an' all. Eh, I -could laugh even yet at yon march we stole on -her, me an' Will!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sally moved impatiently at her aunt's elbow, -and muttered something under her breath. She -was tired of the old story, and disapproved of it -as well. Sarah had lifted her cup to her lips, but -now she set it down....</p> -<p class="pnext">Mary Phyllis stopped giggling a moment, and -leaned forward to speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was telling Cousin Elliman about it only -this morning," she said noisily, "and he says -it's the funniest thing he ever heard! I thought -everybody knew about it, but he says he didn't. -He said it was real smart of you, Mother, and -he wished he could have been there...."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll be bound Sarah didn't think it smart!" -Eliza chuckled, but without glancing at her -victim's face. She had a trick of discussing -people when they were present, as Sarah knew. -She could tell by the trend of Eliza's voice that -she spoke without turning her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Smart? Nay! Sarah was real wild, you -take my word! I spoke to her in t'vestry when -the show was through, and she give me a look as -was more like a dog's bite. Eh, well, I reckon -poor Sarah was jealous o' my gown, seeing her -own was nowt to crack on,--and nowt then! -I'd always settled to be real smart when I got -wed, and my own lasses was just the same. -None o' my folk can do wi' owt as isn't -first-class and happen a bit over. Yon's the photo -we had took at Annie Belle's wedding," she -added, turning to point, "and there's another -of Alice Evelyn's in the parlour."</p> -<p class="pnext">The cousin and Mary Phyllis left their seats -to giggle together over the stiff figures, and -presently the girl turned to her sister with a -malicious taunt.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say, our Sally, you'd best look out when -you <em class="italics">do</em> get wed, or happen I'll play a trick on -you, same as mother did Aunt Sarah! You'll -be rarely riled if I come marching up the aisle -with a fine young man, taking all the shine out -of you and Elliman!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The cousin said something in a low tone which -made her flush and laugh, and Sally guessed at -it quickly enough, though it did not reach her -ears. The tears came into her eyes, and on an -impulse of fellow-feeling she turned towards -her aunt. She was asking after May Fleming -when her mother broke across her talk.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, now, Sarah, yon was never May, was -it, along wi' you in Witham? I'll be bound I'd -never have known her if she hadn't been with -you, but there's not that many you're seen -about with nowadays at market. 'Tisn't like -me, as can't stir a step without somebody -wanting a crack or hanging on to my gown. -But May's changed out of all knowledge,--I -was fair bothered to see her look so old! I'll -swear our Annie Belle looks as young again, for -all she's been wed a dozen year at least. Ay, I -thought May terble old, and terble unmannerly -as well. I'd be shammed to think as any lass -o' mine had suchlike ways. You weren't -over-pleasant spoken yourself, Sarah, if it comes to -that. The folk in the caif were laughing a deal -after you'd gone out, and saying you must be -wrong in the garrets to act so queer."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah had regained her spirit a little, in spite -of her poor tea. She straightened herself on the -plush chair and answered calmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They can say what suits 'em and welcome, -as long as they let me be. You know what put -me about, Eliza, and nobody to thank for it -but yourself. As for folks laughing and making -game o' me and suchlike, it was you they was -sniggering at plain enough when I come out."</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza's colour rose, but she struggled to keep -her virtuous air. She looked at Sarah with a -sorrowful eye.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wouldn't get telling lies about it, Sarah," -she observed kindly, "I wouldn't indeed! -Mrs. Addison's listening, think on, and she'll be -rarely shocked at suchlike ways. Caif-folk were -shocked more than a deal, an' me just having a -friendly talk an' all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a queer sort o' friendliness as puts folk -to open shame!" Sarah's colour was flying a -flag, too. "It's nobbut a queer sort o' friend -as goes shouting your private business at the -end of a bell!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There isn't a deal that's private, surely, -about the mess o' things you've made on the -marsh?..." The fight was really begun now, -and Eliza turned in her seat, fixing her -adversary with merciless eyes. Sarah could see very -little but a monstrous blur, but she felt her -malignant atmosphere in every nerve. She -could hear the big, solid presence creaking with -malice as it breathed, and had an impression of -strained whalebone and stretching cloth. But -it was always Eliza's most cherished garments -that she visioned when they fought,--the velvet -gown that was folded away upstairs ... gloves, -furs, and a feathered hat; furthest of all, the -wedding-gown and the flaunting veil....</p> -<p class="pnext">"Private!" Eliza repeated the sneered word -as if it were something too precious to let go. -"There can't be that much private about things -as we've all on us known for years. What, -folks has puzzled no end why you've never -ended in t'bankruptcy court long since! Will -and me could likely ha' tellt them about it, -though, couldn't we, Sarah? Will an' me -could easy ha' tellt 'em why! Will and me -could ha' tellt where brass come from as was -keeping you on t'rails----"</p> -<p class="pnext">Will had been lending a careful ear to Simon's -surly talk, but he lifted his head at the sound of -his name.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, missis, just you let Mrs. Simon be!" -he admonished, with a troubled frown. "You're -over fond of other folks' business by a deal."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll let her be and welcome, if she'll keep a -civil tongue in her head!" Eliza cried. She -went redder than ever, and slapped a tea-spoon -angrily on the cloth. "But if our brass isn't -our business, I'd like to know what is, and as -for this stir about quitting Sandholes, it's -nothing fresh, I'm sure! We all on us know it's -a marvel landlord didn't get shot on 'em long ago."</p> -<p class="pnext">The last remark galvanised Battersby into -lively speech. Hitherto he had been busily -concentrated on his food, but now his mean -little features sharpened and his mean little -eyes shone. He bent eagerly forward, leaning -on the cloth, knife and fork erect like stakes in -a snatched plot.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's yon about quitting Sandholes?" -he asked, in a thin voice. "Are you thinking -o' leaving, Simon? Is it true?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't see as it's any affair o' yours if it -is," Simon answered him, with a sulky stare.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, it was nobbut a friendly question -between man and man. If you're quitting the -farm it would only be neighbourly just to give -me a hint. There's a lad o' mine talking o' -getting wed, and I thought as how Sandholes'd -likely be going cheap. Has anybody put in for -it yet wi' t'agent, do ye think?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, nor like to do, yet awhile," Simon -answered glumly, full of sullen hurt. All his -love for his tiresome dwelling-place rose to the -surface at this greed. "I don't mind telling -you, Mr. Battersby, as you ax so kind, that I -give in my notice but it wasn't took. Mr. Dent -would have it I mun think it over a bit more. -Your lad'll just have to bide or look out for -somebody else's shoes."</p> -<p class="pnext">This dreadful exhibition of meanness aggrieved -Battersby almost to the verge of tears.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, now, if yon isn't dog-in-the-manger -and nowt else!" he appealed to the company -at large. "What, you're late wi' your notice -already, and yet you're for sitting tight to the -farm like a hen on a pot egg! I shouldn't ha' -thought it of you, Simon, I shouldn't indeed. -Here's a farmer wanting to quit and my lad -wanting a farm, and yet the moment I ax a -decent question I get sneck-posset geyly sharp. -You're jealous, that's what it is, Simon; you're -acting jealous-mean. You've nobbut made a -terble poor job o' things yourself, and you want -to keep others from getting on an' all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon gave vent to an ironic laugh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, Sam, never fret yourself!" he -jeered. "You and your lad'll get on right -enough, I'll be bound, what wi' your heaf-snatching -and your sheep-grabbing and the rest -o' your bonny ways! What, man, one o' your -breed'd be fair lost on a marsh farm, wi' nowt -to lay hands on barrin' other folks' turmuts, -and never a lile chance of an overlap!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Battersby's reputation was well known, and -an irrepressible laugh greeted Simon's speech, -but was instantly cut short by the terrible -spectacle of the victim's face. Only the smug -cousin went on laughing, because he was -ignorant as well as smug, and did not know -what a heaf meant, let alone how it was possible -to add to it by Sam's skilful if unlawful ways. -Battersby jumped to his feet and thumped the -table, so that the blue and gold china danced -like dervishes from end to end. Mrs. Addison's -tea made a waterfall down her second-best -bodice, and Sarah's heart, not being prepared -for the thump, leaped violently into her mouth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll not be insulted in your spot nor nobody -else's," he stormed at Will; "nay, and I'll not -take telling from yon wastrel you call brother, -neither! All on us know what a bonny mess o' -things he's made at Sandholes. All on us know -it'll be right fain to see his back.... As for -you, you gomeless half-thick," he added, swinging -round so suddenly on the smug cousin that -he was left gaping, "you can just shut yon -calf's head o' yours and mighty sharp or I'll -shut it for you! Them as knows nowt'd do -best to say nowt, and look as lile like gawping -jackasses as Nature'll let 'em!" ... He sent -a final glare round the stifled table, and let -Eliza have the sting in his tail. "I'd been -looking to be real friendly wi' Blindbeck," he -finished nastily, "and my lad an' all, but I -don't know as we'll either on us be fain for it -after this. Nay, I wain't set down agen, missis, -and that's flat, so you needn't ax me! I'm -off home and glad to be going, and no thanks to -none o' you for nowt!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He glanced at his plate to make certain there -was nothing left, snatched at his cup and hastily -swallowed the dregs; then, thrusting his chair -backward so violently that it fell to the floor, -he clapped his hat on his head and marched -rudely out. Eliza, catching a glance from a -tearful daughter, got to her feet, too. They -swam from the room in a torrent of loud -apologies and bitter, snarled replies.</p> -<p class="pnext">Will leaned back in his chair with a fretted -expression on his gentle face. The cousin, -slowly turning from red to mottled mauve, -observed to Mary Phyllis that the old man's -language was 'really remarkably like my -chief's!' Some of the younger end started to -giggle afresh, but Sarah was still trembling -from the unexpected shock, and Simon felt -gloomy again after his public effort. He could -see that he had upset Will, and that was the -last thing he wanted to do, to-day. Will did -not like Battersby, but he liked peace, and there -were other reasons for friendly relations at -present. Will's youngest daughter had a direct -interest in Battersby's lad and his hopes of a -farm, and now the father had shaken the -Blindbeck dust from his proud feet. She looked -across at the cause of the trouble with -tear-filled, indignant eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Seems to me things is always wrong when -you come to Blindbeck, Uncle Simon!" she -exclaimed hotly. "Nobody wants your old -farm, I'm sure! I wouldn't have it at a gift! -But you might have spoken him fair about -it, all the same. I never see such folks as -you and Aunt Sarah for setting other folk by -the ears!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Will said "Whisht, lass, whisht!" in as -cross a tone as he ever used to his girls, and -Simon glowered at her sulkily, but he did not -speak. She was a fair, pretty thing, with -Geordie-an'-Jim's eyes, and he did not wish to -injure her happiness in any way. It was true -enough, as she said, that there was generally -something in the shape of a row as soon as he -and Sarah set foot in the house, but he could -not tell for the life of him how it came about. -It could not be altogether their fault, he thought -resentfully, yet with a sort of despair. To-day, -for instance, he had every reason for keeping -the peace, and yet that fool of a Battersby -must come jumping down his throat! Nobody -could be expected to stand such manners and -such nasty greed,--grabbing a man's homestead -before his notice was well in! There was -nothing surprising, of course, in the fact that -the women had already come to blows. He had -expected it from the start, and, with the -resignation of custom, thought it as well over soon as -late. They had had one scrap, as it was, from -what Sarah had said, and the dregs of that pot -of passion would still be hot enough to stir.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a shame, that's what it is!" the girl -was saying, over and over again. Tears dropped -from the Geordie-an'-Jim eyes, and Simon felt -furious with everybody, but particularly with -himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You needn't bother yourself," he growled -across at last, making a rough attempt to put -the trouble right. "Young Battersby's over -much sense to go taking a spot like ourn, and -as for his dad, he'll be back afore you can -speak. 'Tisn't Sam Battersby, I'll be bound, if -he isn't as pleased as punch to be running in -double harness wi' Blindbeck and its brass!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, like other folk!" Eliza dropped on -him from the clouds, reappearing panting from -her chase. "Like other folk a deal nearer home, -Simon Thornthet, as you don't need telling! -Battersby wanted nowt wi' the farm,--he tellt -me so outside. 'Tisn't good enough for the -likes of him, nor for our Emily Marion, neither! -He was that stamping mad he was for breaking it -all off, but I got him promised to look in again -next week. I'd a deal o' work wi' him, all the -same," she added, flushing angrily at her -brother-in-law's ironic smile, "and no thanks -to you, neither, if I come out top, after all! -Anyway, I'll thank you to speak folk civilly at -my table, if you can, whatever-like hired man's -ways you keep for your own!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She would have hectored him longer if Will -had not got to his feet and taken himself and -his brother out of the room, so instead she went -back to her seat and drank a large cup of tea -in angry gulps. Between drinks, however, she -managed to say to the wife the things she had -wanted to say to the man, though Sarah was -silent and paid little or no heed. She wished -she could have gone outside with the men, and -helped to decide what her future was to be. -But it was not for her to advise, who would soon -be no better than a helpless log. It was her -part to wait patiently until Simon fetched her away.</p> -<p class="pnext">But it was not easy to wait at all in that -atmosphere of critical dislike. The successive -passages of arms had had their natural effect, -and the party which had been so merry at the -start was now in a state of boredom and -constraint. The thoughts of most of those present -were unfriendly towards the folk of the marsh, -and Sarah could feel the thoughts winding -about her in the air. Emily Marion was right, -so they were saying in their minds; trouble -always followed the Thornthwaites the moment -they appeared. Storms arose out of nowhere -and destroyed some festive occasion with a -rush. Even to look at them, dowdy and -disapproving, was to take the heart out of any -happy day. It was certainly hard on the poor -Will Thornthwaites that the tiresome Simons -should dare to exist.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah, bringing her mind back from the -absent brothers with an effort, found the -Method working again at top speed. The tea -had soothed Eliza's nerves and stimulated her -brain. She was now at her very best for -behaving her very worst.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And so Mr. Addison's preaching next week, -is he?" she reverted suddenly, making even -that supreme egotist blink and start. Her -Voice, furred and soft, reminded Sarah of a paw -reaching out for someone to scratch. "Eh, -now, but I should be in a rare twitter if it was -Will as was setting up to preach! But there, -we're none of us much of a hand at talking at -our spot, and Will's summat better to do than -just wagging a loose tongue. I'll see the lads -come along, though, as it's you, Mrs. Addison, -and an old friend, unless there's summat useful -they're happen wanted for at home. Eh, Sarah, -but wouldn't they talks to young men ha' done -a sight o' good to Geordie-an'-Jim? It's a sad -pity you didn't start preaching before they went, -Mr. Addison,--it is that! Like enough, if you -had, they'd be at Sandholes yet."</p> -<p class="pnext">The preacher's brow had been thunderous -during the early part of this speech, but now he -looked suddenly coy. Sally, dropping her -glance to her aunt's lap, saw her fingers clench -and unclench on a fold of her own black gown.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Any news of the prodigals?" Elliman -Wilkinson suddenly enquired. He looked at -Eliza as he spoke, and smiled as at a well-known -joke. "I'm always in hopes to find one of -them eating the fatted calf."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, you must ask Sarah, not me!" Eliza -answered, with an affected laugh. She despised -Elliman in her heart, but she was grateful for -the cue. "Sarah knows what they're at, if -there's anybody does at all. Like enough they'll -turn up one o' these days, but I don't know as -we'll run to calves. They'll be terble rough in -their ways, I doubt, after all this time. Out at -elbows an' all, as like as not, and wi' happen a -toe or two keeking through their boots!"</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a ripple of laughter at this show of -wit, and then Elliman, urged by a nudge and a -whisper from Mary Phyllis, repeated the question -in the proper quarter. He raised his voice -when he spoke to Sarah, as if she were deaf as -well as blind, and when she paused a moment -before replying, he apostrophised her again. -The whole table had pricked its ears and was -listening by the time the answer came.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah felt the giggles and the impertinent -voice striking like arrows through the misty -ring in which she sat. Sharpest of all was -Eliza's laugh, introducing the question and -afterwards punctuating it when it was put. -She was achingly conscious of the antipathetic -audience hanging on her lips. They were baiting -her, and she knew it, and her heart swelled -with helpless rage. A passionate longing seized -her to be lord of them all for once,--just for -once to fling back an answer that would slay -their smiles, put respect into their mocking -voices and change their sneers into awed -surprise. If only for once the Dream and the glory -might be true,--the trap and the new clothes -and Geordie and the green front door! But -nothing could be further from what they -expected, as she knew too well. They were waiting -merely to hear her say what she had often said -before,--for news that there was no news or -news that was worse than none. She had faced -more than one trial that day, and had come out -of them with her self-respect intact, but this -unexpected humiliation was more than she could -bear. She was telling herself in the pause that -she would not answer at all, when something -that she took for the total revolt of pride spoke -to the mockers through her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but there's rare good news!" she heard -herself saying in a cheerful tone, and instantly -felt her courage spring up and her heart lighten -as the lie took shape. "I'd been saving it up, -Eliza, for when we were by ourselves, but -there's no sense, I reckon, in not saying it -straight out. Geordie's on his way home to -England at this very minute, and he says he's -a rare good lining to his jacket an' all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The air changed about her at once as she had -always dreamed it would, and she heard the -gasp of surprise pass from one to another like a -quick-thrown ball. Eliza started so violently -that she upset her cup and let it lie. She stared -malevolently at the other's face, her own set -suddenly into heavy lines.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, but that's news and no mistake!" she -exclaimed, striving after her former tone, but -without success. The note in her voice was -clear to her blind hearer, sending triumphant -shivers through her nerves.... "Tell us again, -will you, Sarah?" she added sharply. "I -doubt I heard you wrong."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll tell you and welcome till the cows come -home!" Sarah said, with a sudden sprightliness -that made the Wilkinson cousin open his eyes. -It was almost as if another person had suddenly -taken possession of Sarah's place. There was -a vitality about her that seemed to change her -in every feature, an easy dignity that transformed -the shabbiest detail of her dress. Her -voice, especially, had changed,--that grudging, -dully defiant voice. This was the warm, human -voice of one who rejoiced in secret knowledge, -and possessed her soul in perfect security and -content.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's coming, I tell you,--our Geordie's -coming back!" The wonderful words seemed -to fill her with strong courage every time she -spoke. "I can't rightly tell you when it'll be, -but he said we could look for him any minute -now. Likely we'll find him waiting at -Sandholes when we've gitten home. He's done well -an' all, from what he says.... I'll be bound -he's a rich man. He talks o' buying Sandholes, -happen,--or happen a bigger spot. I make no -doubt he's as much brass as'd buy Blindbeck -out an' out!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She fell silent again after this comprehensive -statement, merely returning brief ayes and noes -to the questions showered upon her from every -side. Her air of smiling dignity, however, -remained intact, and even her blind eyes, moving -from one to another eager face, impressed her -audience with a sense of truth. And then -above the excited chatter there rose Eliza's -voice, with the mother-note sounding faintly -through the jealous greed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yon's all very fine and large, Sarah, but -what about my Jim? Jim's made his pile an' -all, I reckon, if Geordie's struck it rich. He's as -smart as Geordie, is our Jim, any day o' the -week! Hark ye, Sarah! What about my Jim?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Quite suddenly Sarah began to tremble, -exactly as if the other had struck her a sharp -blow. She shrank instantly in her chair, losing -at once her dignity and ease. The fine wine of -vitality ran out of her as out of a crushed grape, -leaving only an empty skin for any malignant -foot to stamp into the earth. She tried to speak, -but could find no voice brave enough to meet -the fierce rain of Eliza's words. A mist other -than that of blindness came over her eyes, and -with a lost movement she put out a groping, -shaking hand. Sally, in a sudden access of pity, -gathered it in her own.</p> -<p class="pnext">She slid her arm round her aunt, and drew -her, tottering and trembling, to her feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's overmuch for her, that's what it is," -she said kindly, but taking care to avoid her -mother's angry glance. "It's knocked her -over, coming that sudden, and no wonder, -either. Come along, Aunt Sarah, and sit down -for a few minutes in the parlour. You'll be as -right as a bobbin after you've had a rest."</p> -<p class="pnext">She led her to the door, a lithe, upright figure -supporting trembling age, and Elliman's eyes -followed her, so that for once he was heedless of -Mary Phyllis when she spoke. Most of the -company, indeed, had fallen into a waiting -silence, as if they knew that the act was not -yet finished, and that the cue for the curtain -still remained to be said. And the instinct that -held them breathless was perfectly sound, for in -the square of the door Sarah halted herself and -turned. Her worn hands gripped her gown on -either side, and if May had been there to see her, -she would again have had her impression of -shrouded flame. She paused for a moment just -to be sure of her breath, and then her voice -went straight with her blind glance to the point -where Eliza sat.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Jim's dead, I reckon!" she said, clearly -and cruelly... "ay, I doubt he's dead. -Geordie'd never be coming without him if he -was over sod. You'd best make up your mind, -Eliza, as he's dead and gone!"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was the voice of an oracle marking an -open grave, of Cassandra, crying her knowledge -in Troy streets. It held them all spellbound -until she had gone out. Even Eliza was silent -for once on her red plush chair....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">IV</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Each of the brothers Thornthwaite drew -a breath of relief as soon as he got outside. -They were at ease together at once as soon as -they were alone. The contrast in their positions, -so obvious to the world, made little or no -difference to the men themselves. It would have -made less still but for the ever-recurring problem -of the women-folk, and even that they did their -best to put away from them as soon as they -were out of sight. Each could only plead what -he could for the side he was bound to support, -and pass on hurriedly to a less delicate theme. -Alone they fell back easily into the relation -which had been between them as lads, and -forgot that the younger was now a man of -substance and weight, while the elder had made -an inordinate muddle of things. Will had -always looked up to Simon and taken his word -in much, and he still continued to take it when -Eliza was not present to point to the fact that -Simon's wonderful knowledge had not worked -out in practice. To-day, as they wandered -round the shippons, he listened respectfully -while his brother criticised the herd, quarrelled -with the quality of the food-stuffs, and snorted -contempt at the new American method of tying -cattle in the stall. Experience had taught him -that Simon was not the first who had made a -mess of his own affairs while remaining -perfectly competent to hand out good advice to -others. The well-arranged water-supply was -Simon's idea, as well as the porcelain troughs -which were so easy to keep clean, and the -milking-machine which saved so much in labour. -There were other innovations,--some, Eliza's -pride,--which were due to Simon, if she had -only known it. He was a good judge of a beast -as well, and had a special faculty for doctoring -stock, a gift which had certainly not been -allowed to run to waste during those bewitched -and disease-ridden years at Sandholes. Will -was indebted to him for many valuable lives, -and often said that Simon had saved him -considerably more than he had ever lent him. It -remained a perpetual mystery why so useful -a man should have achieved so much for others -and so little for himself. The answer could only -lie in the curse that was glooming over -Sandholes,--if there was a curse. Nature certainly -plays strange tricks on those who do not exactly -suit her book, but in any case the hate at the -heart of things was enough to poison luck at the -very source.</p> -<p class="pnext">While Sarah sat through her long torment -in the kitchen, rising up at last for that great -blow which at all events felled her adversary for -the time being, Simon was enjoying himself -airing his knowledge in the buildings, -contradicting his brother on every possible occasion, -and ending by feeling as if he actually owned -the place. However, the reason of his visit came -up at length, as it was bound to do, and his air -of expert authority vanished as the position -changed. One by one, as he had already done -to Mr. Dent, he laid before his brother his -difficulties and disappointments, much as a -housewife lays out the chickens that some -weasel has slain in the night. He wore the -same air of disgust at such absurd accumulation -of disaster, of incredulity at this overdone -effort on the part of an inartistic fate. The -story was not new to Will, any more than to -the agent, but he listened to it patiently, -nevertheless. He knew from experience that, -unless you allow a man to recapitulate his -woes, you cannot get him to the point from -which a new effort may be made. He may -seem to be following you along the fresh path -which you are marking out, but in reality he -will be looking back at the missed milestones -of the past. And there were so many milestones -in Simon's case,--so many behind him, and -so few to come. After all, it could only be a -short road and a bare into which even the -kindest brotherly love had power to set his feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">So for the second time that day Simon lived -his long chapter of accidents over again, his -voice, by turns emphatic and indignant or -monotonous and resigned, falling like slanting -rain over the unheeding audience of the cattle. -Will, listening and nodding and revolving the -question of ways and means, had yet always -a slice of attention for his immediate belongings. -His eye, casual yet never careless, wandered -over the warm roan and brown and creamy -backs between the clean stone slabs which -Simon had advocated in place of the ancient -wooden stalls. The herd was indoors for the -winter, but had not yet lost its summer freshness, -and he had sufficient cause for pride in the -straight-backed, clean-horned stuff, with its -obvious gentle breeding and beautiful feminine -lines. That part of his mind not given to his -brother was running over a string of names, -seeing in every animal a host of others whose -characteristics had gone to its creation, and -building upon them the stuff of the generations -still to come,--turning over, in fact, that -store of knowledge of past history and patient -prophecy for the future which gives the study -of breeding at once its dignity and its fascination. -At the far end of the shippon, where the calf-pens -were, he could see the soft bundles of calves, -with soft eyes and twitching ears, in which -always the last word in the faith of the -stock-breeder was being either proved or forsworn. -The daylight still dropping through skylights -and windows seemed to enter through frosted -glass, dimmed as it was by the warm cloud of -breathing as well as the mist that lined the -sky beyond. A bird flew in at intervals through -the flung-back swinging panes, and perched for -a bar of song on the big cross-beams supporting -the pointed roof. A robin walked pertly but -daintily down the central aisle, a brave little -spot of colour on the concrete grey, pecking -as it went at the scattered corn under the -monster-noses thrust between the rails. Simon -leaned against a somnolent white cow, with an -arm flung lengthways down her back, his other -hand fretting the ground with the worn remnant -of a crooked stick. Will's dog, a bushy, silvered -thing, whose every strong grey hair seemed -separately alive, curled itself, with an eye on the -robin, at its master's feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">He roused himself to greater attention when -Simon reached the account of his interview with -Mr. Dent. Accustomed as he was to more or -less traditional behaviour under the traditional -circumstances which govern such lives as his, -he fastened at once on the puzzling attitude of -the agent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It fair beats me what Mr. Dent could think -he was at," he observed thoughtfully. "Once -you'd settled to quit there was no sense in -keeping you hanging on. Best make a job and -ha' done wi' it, seems to me. 'Tisn't like -Mr. Dent, neither, to carry on in such a fashion. -I wonder what made him act so strange?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon wore his original air of injured dignity -as he leaned against the cow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know, I'm sure, but he was -terble queer! You might ha' thought he was -badly or summat, but he seemed all right. -Come to that, he looked as fit as a fiddle and as -pleased as a punch! You might ha' thought -he'd had a fortune left him, or the King's Crown!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen it was some private business," -Will said, "and nowt to do wi' you at all.... -What did you think o' doing when you've quit -the farm?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon poked the flags harder than ever, and -from injured dignity sank to sulks. The sudden -pressure of his arm moved the somnolent cow -to a sharp kick. When he spoke it was in a -surly tone, and with his eyes turned away from -Will's.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll have to get a job o' some sort, I reckon, -to keep us going. I'm over old for most folk, -but I could happen do odds and ends,--fetching -milk and siding up, and a bit o' gardening and -suchlike. The trouble is the missis won't be -able to do for herself before so long. The -doctor tellt her to-day she was going blind."</p> -<p class="pnext">His brother's face filled at once with sympathy -and dismay. In that forbidden compartment -of his mind where he sometimes ventured to -criticise his wife, he saw in a flash how she -would take the news. This latest trouble of -Sarah's would indeed be the summit of Eliza's -triumph. Poverty Sarah had withstood; blindness -she might have mastered, given time; but -poverty and blindness combined would deliver -her finally into the enemy's hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I never thought it would be as bad as that," -he murmured pityingly. "It's a bad business, -is that! ... Didn't doctor say there was -anything could be done?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There was summat about an operation, but -it'll get no forrarder," Simon said. "They -fancy things is hardly in Sarah's line."</p> -<p class="pnext">"If it's brass that's wanted, you needn't -fash over that...." He added more urgently -as Simon shook his head, "It'd be queer if I -grudged you brass for a thing like yon!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're right kind," Simon said gratefully, -"but it isn't no use. She's that proud, is Sarah, -she'll never agree. I doubt she just means to -let things slide."</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's no call, I'm sure, to be proud with -me!" Will's voice was almost hot. "I've -always been ready any time to stand her -friend. Anyway, there's the offer, and she can -take it or leave it as best suits her. If she -changes her mind after a while, she won't find -as I've altered mine.... But there's no sense -in your taking a job and leaving a blind woman -to fend for herself. There's nowt for it but -Sarah'll have to come to us."</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon laughed when he said that, a grim, -mirthless laugh which made the dog open his -sleepless eyes and throw him a searching glance.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, nay, Will, my lad! It's right good of -you, but it wouldn't do. A bonny time you'd -have, to be sure, wi' the pair on 'em in t'house! -And anyway your missis'd never hear tell o' -such a thing, so that fixes it right off."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's my own spot, I reckon!" Will spoke -with unusual force. "I can do as suits me, I -suppose. T'lasses hasn't that much to do they -can't see to a blind body, and as for room and -suchlike, there'll be plenty soon. Young -Battersby's made it up with our Em, and it's more -than time yon Elliman Wilkinson was thinking -o' getting wed. He's been going with our Sally -a terble long while, though he and Mary Phyllis -seem mighty throng just now. Anyway, there'll -be a corner for Sarah right enough,--ay, and for -you an' all."</p> -<p class="pnext">But Simon shook his head again, and stood up -straight and took his arm off the back of the cow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There'd be murder, I doubt," he said quite -simply, and this time he did not laugh. "There's -bad blood between they two women as nobbut -death'll cure. Nay, I thank ye right enough, -Will, but yon horse won't pull....</p> -<p class="pnext">"I mun get a job, that's all," he went on -quickly, before Will could speak again, "and -some sort of a spot where t'neighbours'll look -to the missis while I'm off. I'll see t'agent agen -and try to ram into him as I mean to gang, -and if you hear of owt going to suit, you'll -likely let me know?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Will nodded but did not answer because of -approaching steps, and they stood silently -waiting until the cowman showed at the door. -At once the deep symphony of the hungry -broke from the cattle at sight of their servant -with his swill. The quiet picture, almost as -still as if painted on the wall, upheaved -suddenly into a chaos of rocking, bellowing beasts. -The great heads tugged at their yokes, the -great eyes pleaded and rolled. The big -organ-notes of complaint and desire chorded and -jarred, dropping into satisfied silence as the man -passed from stall to stall. Will jerked his head -after him as he went out at the far door, and -said that he would be leaving before so long.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh? Taylor, did ye say?" Simon stared, -for the man had been at Blindbeck for years. -"What's amiss?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, there's nowt wrong between us, if -you mean that. But his wife's father's had a -stroke, and wants him to take over for him at -Drigg. News didn't come till I was off this -morning, or I might ha' looked round for -somebody while I was in t'town."</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon began a fresh violent poking with his -ancient stick. "You'll ha' somebody in your -eye, likely?" he enquired. "There'll be -plenty glad o' the job."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, ay, but it's nobbut a weary business -learning folk your ways." He glanced at his -brother a moment, and then looked shyly away. -"If you're really after a shop, Simon, what's -wrong wi' it for yourself?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The painful colour came into the other's -averted face. He poked so recklessly that he -poked the dog, who arose with an offended growl.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, it's charity, that's what it is! I'm -over old.... You know as well as me I'd -never get such a spot anywheres else."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You know the place, and you're a rare hand -wi' stock. I could trust you same as I could -myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm over old," Simon demurred again, -"and done to boot. I'd not be worth the brass."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We've plenty o' help on the place," Will -said. "It'd be worth it just to have you about. -Nigh the same as having a vet on t'spot!" he -added jokingly, trying to flatter him into -acquiescence. "I'd be main glad for my own -sake," he went on, his face grave again and -slightly wistful. "There's times I fair ache for -a crack wi' somebody o' my own. Women is -nobbut women, when all's said and done, and -lads is like to think they know a deal better than -their dad.... Ay, well, you can think it over -and let me know," he finished, in a disappointed -tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon poked for a while longer, and succeeded -in poking the cow as well as the dog. He was -fighting hard with his pride as he scraped busily -at the flags. The tie of blood pulled him, as -well as the whole atmosphere of the prosperous -place. He knew in his heart that he was never -so happy as when he was with his brother, -never so good a man as when he was preaching -in Will's shippons. As for pride, that would -have to go by the board sooner or later; indeed, -who would say that he had any right to it, -even now? He made up his mind at last on a -sudden impulse, lifting his head with a hasty jerk.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've had enough o' thinking things over, -thank ye all the same. I'll be main glad o' -the job, Will, and that's the truth...." He -sank back instantly, however, and fell to -poking again. "Folk'll have plenty to say, -though, I reckon," he added bitterly, "when -they hear as I'm hired man to my younger -brother!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"They've always a deal to say, so what's the -odds? As for younger and older, there isn't -a deal to that when you get up in years.... -There's a good cottage across t'road," he went -on eagerly, bringing up reinforcements before -Simon should retire. "It's handy for t'stock, and -there's a garden and orchard as well. Lasses -could see to Sarah, you'll think on, if she's that -closer. There's berry-bushes in t'garden and a -deal besides...."</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon was busy shaking his head and saying -he wasn't worth it and that he was over old, but -all the time he was listening with interest and -even pleasure to Will's talk. Milking had now -begun, and already, as the levers swung back -and forwards over the cattle's heads, he found -himself looking about the shippon with a -possessive eye. Even in these few moments, life -had taken a turn for the Thornthwaite of the -desolate marsh farm. Already his back felt -straighter, his eye brighter, his brain more -alive. The drawbacks of the proposed position -began to recede before the many advantages it -had to offer. It was true, of course, that he -would be his brother's hired man, but it was -equally true that he was the master's brother, -too. To all intents and purposes he would be -master himself,--that is to say, when Eliza -wasn't about! Will's cottages were good, like -everything else of Will's, and the lasses could -see to Sarah, as he said. For himself there -would be the constant interest and stimulant -of a big farm, as well as the mental relief of a -steady weekly wage. He felt almost excited -about it as they crossed the yard, making for -Taylor's cottage over the road. He tried not -to think of what Sarah might say when she -heard the news, still less of what Mrs. Will -would most certainly say. He felt equal to -both of them in his present spirited mood, and -even tried to convince himself that in time they -would make friends.</p> -<p class="pnext">As they stood looking at Taylor's cottage and -Taylor's gooseberry bushes and canes, Will -suddenly asked his brother whether there was -any news of Geordie. And Simon, when he -had given the old answer that there was no -news that was worth crossing the road to hear, -turned his face away in the direction of Taylor's -hens, and enquired whether there was any news of Jim.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's been none for a sight o' years now," -Will answered sadly, leaning on the wall. -"Eliza wrote him a letter as put his back up, -and he's never sent us a line since. He always -set a deal more by you and your missis than he -ever did by us. I'd ha' stood his friend, poor -lad, if he'd ha' let me, but he always took it I -was agen him, too."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was silence between them for a while, -and then,--"Eh, well, you've a mort of others -to fill his place!" Simon sighed, watching a -well-built lad swing whistling across the yard.</p> -<p class="pnext">Will raised himself from the wall, and watched -him, too.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but I'd nobbut the one eldest son!" -was all he said.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">V</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Sally led her aunt to the grand but unused -parlour in which so many expensive and -handsome things were doomed to spend their -lives. There was a piano, of course, which -none of the Blindbeck folk knew how to play, -in spite of Eliza's conviction that the gift was -included in the price. A Chippendale bookcase -made a prison for strange books never opened -and never named, and the shut doors of a -cabinet kept watch and ward over some lovely -china and glass. There was a satin-wood table -with a velvet sheen, whose polished mirror never -reflected a laughing human face. There was -an American rocking-chair, poised like a floating -bird, with cushions filled with the finest down -ever drawn from an heirloom of a feather-bed. -Sarah would not have taken the rocking-chair, -as a rule; she would have thought herself either -too humble or too proud. But to-day she went -to it as a matter of course, because of the false -pomp that she had drawn to herself like a -stolen royal robe. With a sigh of relief that was -half physical and half mental, she let herself -gently down, dropped her rusty bonnet against -the silk, and peacefully closed her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sally stood looking at her with an expression -of mingled pity, curiosity and awe. She had -pitied her often enough before, but she had -never before seen her through the slightest veil -of romance. Sometimes, indeed, the tale of -the damaged wedding-day had touched her -imagination like the scent of a bruised flower, -but it was so faint and far-off that it passed -again like a breath. To-day, however, she had -that sudden sense of exquisite beauty in the -old, which all must feel who see in them the -fragile storehouses of life. The old woman had -known so much that she would never know, -looked on a different world with utterly different -eyes. There was romance in the thought of -the dead she had seen and spoken to and -laughed with and touched and loved. And -even now, with the flower of her life apparently -over and withered back again to its earth, this -sudden splendour of Geordie had blossomed for -her at the end.</p> -<p class="pnext">The girl waited a moment, hoping for a word, -and then, though rather reluctantly, turned -towards the door. She wanted to hear still -more about the marvellous news, but the old -woman looked so tired that she did not like to -ask. She was anxious, too, to get back to the -kitchen to keep an eye on Mary Phyllis. Yet -still she lingered, puzzled and curious, and -still touched by that unusual sense of awe. -An exotic beauty had passed swiftly into the -musty air of Eliza's parlour, a sense of wonder -from worlds beyond ... the strong power of -a dream.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're over-tired, aren't you, Aunt Sarah?" -she repeated, for want of something better to -say. She spoke rather timidly, as if aware that -the words only brushed the surface of deeper -things below.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah answered her without opening her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, my lass. Just a bit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd best stop here quietly till Uncle -Simon's yoked up. I'll see nobody bothers you -if you feel like a nap. I'd fetch you a drop of -cowslip wine, but mother's got the key."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I want nowt wi' it, thank ye," Sarah -said. "I'll do all right." She lifted her hands -contentedly, and folded them in her lap. "Likely -I'll drop off for a minute, as you say."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, then, I'd best be getting back." She -moved resolutely now, but paused with her -hand on the latch. "Aunt Sarah," she asked -rather breathlessly, "was all that about Cousin -Geordie true?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah's lids quivered a little, and then -tightened over her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay. True enough."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's grand news, if it is! ... I'm right glad -about it, I'm sure! I've always thought it -hard lines, him going off like that. And you -said he'd done well for himself, didn't you, -Aunt Sarah? ... Eh, but I wish Elliman -could make some brass an' all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's a deal o' power in brass." The -words came as if of themselves from behind -the mask-like face. "Folks say it don't mean -happiness, but it means power. It's a stick to -beat other folk wi', if it's nowt else."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't want to beat anybody, I'm sure!" -Sally laughed, though with tears in her voice. -"I only want what's my own."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, we all on us want that," Sarah said, -with a grim smile. "But it's only another -fancy name for the whole world!"</p> -<div class="center transition"> -<p class="pfirst">――――</p> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">She sat still for some time after the girl had -gone out, as if she were afraid that she might -betray herself before she was actually alone. -Presently, however, she began to rock gently -to and fro, still keeping her hands folded and -her eyes closed. The good chair moved easily -without creak or jar, and the good cushions -adapted themselves to every demand of her -weary bones. Geordie should buy her a chair -like this, she told herself as she rocked, still -maintaining the wonderful fiction even to -herself. She would have cushions, too, of the very -best, covered with silk and cool to a tired -cheek. A footstool, also, ample and well -stuffed, and exactly the right height for a pair -of aching feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">But though one half of her brain continued -to dally with these pleasant fancies, the other -was standing amazed before her late stupendous -act. She was half-aghast, half-proud at the -ease with which she had suddenly flung forth -her swift, gigantic lie. Never for a moment -had she intended to affirm anything of the kind, -never as much as imagined that she might hint at -it even in joke. She had been angry, of course, -bitter and deeply hurt, but there had been no -racing thoughts in her mind eager to frame the -princely tale. It had seemed vacant, indeed, -paralysed by rage, unable to do little else but -suffer and hate. And then suddenly the words -had been said, had shaped themselves on her -lips and taken flight, as if by an agency with -which she had nothing to do. It was just as if -somebody had taken her arm and used it to -wave a banner in the enemy's face; as if she -were merely an instrument on which an angry -hand had suddenly played.</p> -<p class="pnext">So she was not ashamed, or even really -alarmed, because of this inward conviction that -the crime was not her own. Yet the voice had -been hers, and most certainly the succeeding -grim satisfaction and ironic joy had been hers! -She allowed herself an occasional chuckle now -that she was really alone, gloating freely over -Eliza's abasement and acute dismay. For once at -least, in the tourney of years, she had come away -victor from the fray. No matter how she was -made to pay for it in the end, she had had the -whip-hand of Blindbeck just for once. Indeed, -now that it was done,--and so easily done,--she -marvelled that she had never done it before. -At the back of her mind, however, was the -vague knowledge that there is only one possible -moment for tremendous happenings such as -these. Perhaps the longing engendered by the -Dream in the yard had suddenly grown strong -enough to act of its own accord. Perhaps, as in -the decision about the farm, a sentence lying long -in the brain is spoken at length without the -apparent assistance of the brain....</p> -<p class="pnext">She did not trouble herself even to speculate -how she would feel when at last the truth was -out. This was the truth, as long as she chose -to keep it so, as long as she sat and rocked -and shut the world from her dreaming eyes. -From pretending that it was true she came very -soon to believing that it might really be possible, -after all. Such things had happened more than -once, she knew, and who was to say that they -were not happening now? She told herself that, -if she could believe it with every part of herself -just for a moment, it would be true. Up in -Heaven, where, as they said, a star winked -every time a child was born, they had only to -move some lever or other, and it would be true.</p> -<p class="pnext">A clock ticked on the mantelpiece with a -slow, rather hesitating sound, as if trying to -warn the house that Sunday and the need of -the winding-key were near. There was a -close, secretive feeling in the room, the -atmosphere of so many objects shut together in an -almost terrible proximity for so many days of -the week. She was so weary that she could -have fallen asleep, but her brain was too -excited to let her rest. The magnitude of her -crime still held her breathlessly enthralled; the -glamour of it made possible all impossible hopes. -She dwelt again and again on the spontaneity -of the lie, which seemed to give it the -unmistakable stamp of truth.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had long since forgotten what it was -like to be really happy or even at peace, but -in some sort of fierce, gloating, heathenish way -she was happy now. She was conscious, for -instance, of a sense of importance beyond -anything she had ever known. Even that half of -her brain which insisted that the whole thing -was pretence could not really chill the -pervading glow of pride. She had caught the -reflection of her state in Eliza's voice, as well as -in others less familiar to her ear. She had -read it even in Sally's kindly championship -and support; through the sympathy she had not -failed to hear the awe. The best proof,--if she -needed proof,--was that she was actually here -in the sacred parlour, and seated in the precious -chair. Eliza would have turned her out of both -long since, she knew, if she had not been clad -in that new importance as in cloth of gold.</p> -<p class="pnext">The impossible lies nearer than mere probability -to the actual fact; so near at times that -the merest effort seems needed to cross the -line. Desire, racking both soul and body with -such powerful hands, must surely be strong -enough to leap the slender pale. The peculiar -mockery about ill-luck is always the trifling -difference between the opposite sides of the -shield. It is the difference between the full -glass and the glass turned upside-down. But -to-day at least this tired old woman had swung -the buckler round, and laughed as she held the -glass in her hand and saw the light strike -through the wine.</p> -<p class="pnext">In this long day of Simon's and Sarah's -nothing was stranger than the varying strata of -glamour and gloom through which in turn they -passed. Their days and weeks were, as a rule, -mere grey blocks of blank, monotonous life, -imperceptibly lightened or further shadowed -by the subtle changes of the sky. But into -these few hours so closely packed with dreadful -humiliations and decisions, so much accumulated -unkindness and insult and cold hate, there -kept streaming upon them shafts of light from -some centre quite unknown. For Simon there -had been the unexpected stimulant of his -Witham success, and later the new interest in -life which Will's proposal had seemed to offer. -For Sarah there was the wistful pleasure of her -morning with May, as well as the unlawful but -passionate pleasure of her present position. The -speed of the changes kept them over-strung, so -that each as it came found them more sensitive -than the last. They were like falling bodies -dropping by turn through cloud and sunlit air. -They were like total wrecks on some darkened -sea, catching and losing by turn the lights of an -approaching vessel.</p> -<p class="pnext">The slow clock dragged the protesting minutes -on, and still no one disturbed her and the dream -widened and grew. Tea would be brought in -soon, she told herself in the dream,--strong, -expensive, visitor's tea, freshly boiled and -brewed. The silver teapot would be queening it -over the tray, flanked by steaming scones and -an oven-new, home-made cake. Eliza herself -would appear to entertain her guest, always -with that new note of reverence in her voice. -When the door opened they would hear another -voice,--Geordie's, laughing and talking in some -room beyond. All the happy young voices of -the house would mingle with his, but always -the youngest and happiest would be Geordie's -own. Hearing that voice, she would make -mock of herself for ever having feared Eliza's -tongue, still more for ever having cared enough -to honour her with hate. A small thing then -would be the great Eliza, in spite of her size, -beside the mother for whom the dead had been -made alive. She would talk with Eliza as the -gods talk when they speak with the humble -human from invisible heights. So strong was -the vision that she found herself framing the -godlike sentences with gracious ease. The -silver teaspoons clinked against the cups, and -the visitor's tea was fragrant in the musty -room. She spread a linen handkerchief across -her knee ... a snowy softness against her -silken knee.... And always, always, as the -meal progressed, the voice of her ecstasy sang -in her happy ear....</p> -<p class="pnext">She had that one moment of clear beauty -unprofaned by hate, with Geordie's face -swimming before her in a golden haze. Then her -hand, going out to the silk and linen of the -dream, encountered the darned and threadbare -serge of dreary fact. The dream rent violently -all around her, letting her out again into the -unlovely world. Even her blindness had been -forgotten for the time, for in the dream she -was never blind. Now the touch of the darns -under her hand brought back the long hours of -mending by candlelight which had had their -share in despoiling her of her sight. She would -never be able to darn by candlelight again, and -the loss of that drudgery seemed to her now an -added grief, because into this and all similar work, -as women know, goes the hope of the future -to emerge again as the soul of the past.... -Sarah knew that her hand would ache for her -needle as the sailor's hand aches for the helm, -or the crippled horseman's for the feel of the flat -rein. She felt, too, a sudden desperate anger -against the woman who would have the mending -of Simon's clothes. Geordie's, she knew, -she would simply have wrenched from any -stranger's hands, but since there was no Geordie -she need not think of that. The Dream had been -merely the make-believe of the bitterly -oppressed, who had taken to desperate lying as a -last resort. Yet still the sweetness lingered, -keeping her serene, like the last scent of a -passed garden or the last light upon darkening hills.</p> -<p class="pnext">She smoothed her hands on the arms of the -precious chair, and reached out and smoothed -the satin of the table. Through the dimness -the solid piano loomed, the rosewood coffin of -a thousand songs. The carpet under her feet -felt elastic yet softly deep. There were -ornaments in the room, good stuff as well as trash, -trifles pointing the passions of Eliza's curious -soul. But for once, after all these years, Eliza's -soul would be sorrowful in spite of her great -possessions. Back in the kitchen she would be -gritting her teeth on the fact that it was Sarah's -son who was coming home, coming with money -to burn and a great and splendid will to burn it. -She would exact payment, of course, when -the truth was known, but even the last ounce -of payment could not give her back this hour. -For this hour, at least, it was hers to suffer -and Sarah's to reign. For this hour, at least, -the heavily-weighted tables of destiny were turned.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">VI</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">That which had been the terrible Eliza -sat still for a long moment after Sarah -had gone out. There was silence about the -table until Elliman Wilkinson took upon -himself to speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But Jim's never your son, Cousin Eliza?" -he exclaimed, puzzled, rushing in where not only -angels would have feared to tread, but where -the opposite host also would have taken care -to keep their distance. "It's very stupid of -me, of course, but I've always made sure -that Geordie-an'-Jim were twins."</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza turned baleful eyes upon the eager, -inquisitive face. Her mind, concentrated in -sullen fury upon the enemy recently departed -with banners, found a difficulty in focussing -itself upon this insignificant shape. When it -succeeded, however, she ground him into dust.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, next time you feel sure of -anything, you can make certain you're dead -wrong!" she told him cruelly, surveying his -bland countenance with cold contempt. "Jim's -my eldest, if you want to know, and as much -the better o' Geordie as Blindbeck's the better -o' yon mudhole down on the marsh! He was -always the smarter lad o' the two,--'tisn't -likely he'd ha' been left.... I'll lay what you -like it's Jim as is really coming, after all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But in that case you would surely have -heard from him yourself?" Elliman was still -disporting himself with the brazen folly of -innocence upon the forbidden ground. "He'd -have written to tell his mother, surely,--not his aunt?"</p> -<p class="pnext">A distinct thrill of apprehension ran through -the company at this tactful speech. Mary -Phyllis's nudge on this occasion was one of -sharp reproof. The clouds thickened on Eliza's brow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, he just wouldn't, Mr. Clever-Lad-Know-All, -so that's that! I'm his mother -right enough, as nobody but a fool would ha' -needed telling, but he wouldn't ha' written me, -all the same. Me and Jim got across a while -back, and he's taken sulks with me ever since. -He'd be like enough to write to Sarah, by way of -giving me back a bit o' my own. She always -cockered him fearful, did Sarah, and set him -agen me whenever she could. And if there's -brass about, as she says, she'll keep it warm for -him, never fear! She'll take right good care it -never gets past her to Blindbeck or any of his own!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Jim would ha' been right enough but for -Geordie all along." Mrs. Addison shook a -loose and agile bonnet with an impressive air. -"He was a right-down nuisance, was Geordie -Thornthet,--a bad lad as well as a reg'lar limb! -Such tricks as he was up to, I'm sure,--turmut-lanterns -and the like, booin' at folks' winders -after dark, and hiding behind hedges when folk -was courtin' about t'lanes! Stephen and me -wasn't wed then, you'll think on, and I mind -a terble fright as Geordie give us one summer -night. Stephen was terble sweet on me, as -you'll likely know, though he'd choke himself -black in the face afore he'd own to it now. -Well, yon night as I'm speaking of he had hold -o' my hand, and was looking as near like a -dying duck in a thunderstorm as ever I see. -'Jenny Sophia,' he was saying, as sweet as a -field of clover, 'I'm that set on you, Jenny -Sophia'--when up pops Geordie on t'far side -o' the hedge, girning and making a hullaballoo -like a donkey afore rain!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've no call to go raking up yon d--d -rubbish!" Mr. Addison burst out, crimson to -the hair, and quite forgetting the obligations of -his Christian mission. He had said the same -thing to Eliza's eldest lass, and much about -the same time, and knew that Eliza knew it as -well as he. "Folks isn't right in their heads -when they're courtin', as everybody knows, and -it's real mean to bring it agen 'em after all these -years. As for Geordie Thornthet, there was lile -or nowt I could learn him, and that's sure! -T'lasses was always after him like bees at a -bottle o' rum."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, you mean our Jim!" Jim's -mother corrected him with an air of offence. -"Nobody never reckoned nowt o' Geordie but -May Fleming. He couldn't hold a candle to -Jim, any day o' the week. Folk said they -couldn't tell 'em apart, but I never see a scrap -o' likeness myself." She glanced defiantly -round the table, as if expecting opposition, and -then swung round eagerly as Sally reappeared. -"Well, my lass, well?" she rapped out,--"did -she tell you anything more? You've -taken your time about coming back, I'm sure!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, she said nowt fresh," Sally answered -evasively, without meeting her eyes. She -advanced to the table and began to gather the -china together, ready for clearing away. Her -mother pushed back her chair with an angry -scrape.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, of all the gert, helpless gabies!" she -exploded violently. "I made sure she'd talk -when she'd gitten you by herself. Didn't she -say when letter come, or how much brass there -was, or owt? ... Eh, well, it's never Geordie -as made it, that I'll swear!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"She said it was Geordie." Sally went on -mechanically with her task, collecting cups and -plates from under the noses of the still-stupefied -clan. "It's real nice, anyway, to see somebody -happy," she added suddenly, raising her eyes -to look at the smug cousin. Elliman met them -unexpectedly and coloured furiously. On a -sudden remorseful impulse he shuffled a couple -of plates together, and handed them to her with -a deprecating air.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can't say she looked very set up about it, -anyhow!" Eliza sneered. "What, she was -even more glumpy than usual, seemed to me!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"More like a burying than a home-coming, -by a deal!" Mary Phyllis finished for her, -with a scornful laugh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As for Uncle Simon, he was as cross as a -pair of shears!" Emily Marion added in a -fretted tone. The Thornthwaites were making -things awkward to-day for the bride-to-be. -Simon had nearly queered the engagement at the -start, and now the company's interest was all -for a Thornthwaite whom she had never seen.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not how <em class="italics">I</em> should take good news, -certainly!" Elliman said, hoping that no one had -noticed his menial act. "I should have something -more to say for myself, I hope, than that."</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza's eyes brightened considerably at this -unanimous point of view.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, you're right there," she took them up -eagerly, "you're right enough! 'Tisn't natural -to be so quiet. I'll tell you what it is," she -added impressively, "it's one o' two things, -that's all. It's either a lie from beginning to -end, or else--or else--well, it's our Jim!" She -pushed her chair further still, and got hurriedly -to her feet. "Ay, well, whichever it is, I'd best -see for myself," she added quickly. "You'll -not mind me leaving you, Mrs. Addison, just -for a little while? I don't know as we're doing -right to leave Sarah so long alone. She's -getting a bit of an old body now, you know, -and she was never that strong in her poor head."</p> -<p class="pnext">She departed noisily after this surprisingly -sympathetic speech, and Sarah, hearing her -heavy step along the passage, chuckled for the -last time. Her mind braced itself for the coming -contest with a grim excitement that was almost -joy. Nothing could have been more unlike her -attitude of the morning in the inn-yard. She -lay back in her chair again and closed her eyes, -and was rocking peacefully when Eliza opened -the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">Just for the moment the sight of the tranquil -figure gave her pause, but neither sleep nor its -greater Counterpart could still Eliza for very -long. "Feeling more like yourself, are you, -Sarah?" she enquired cautiously, peering in, -and then repeated the question when she got -no answer. Finally, irritated by the other's -immobility which was obviously not sleep, she -entered the room heavily, shutting the door -with a sharp click. "There's nowt amiss, from -the look of you," she added loudly, as she -advanced.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah exclaimed, "Eh now, whatever's -yon!" at the sound of the harsh voice, and sat -up stiffly, winking her blind eyes. She even -turned her head and blinked behind, as if she -thought the voice had come out of the grandfather's -clock. "Nay, I'll do now, thank ye," -she answered politely, discovering Eliza's -whereabouts with a show of surprise. "It'll be about -time we were thinking of getting off."</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza, however, had no intention of parting -with her just yet. She stopped her hastily when -she tried to rise.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now, there isn't that much hurry, is -there?" she demanded sharply. "Yon old -horse o' yourn'll barely have stretched his legs. -Your master and mine'd have a deal to say to -each other an' all." She paused a moment, -creaking from foot to foot, and staring irresolutely -at the mask-like face. "You talked a -deal o' stuff in t'other room, Sarah," she broke -out at last, "but I reckon you meant nowt by -it, after all?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah wanted to chuckle again, but was forced -to deny herself the pleasure. For appearance' -sake she stiffened her back, and bristled a little -at Eliza's tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but I did!" she retorted briskly, her -voice firm. "Whatever else should I mean, I'd -like to know?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The strong hope that had sprung in Eliza's -heart died down again before this brazen show.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You can't rightly know what you're saying, -Sarah," she said coldly, "you can't, indeed! -Geordie coming after all these years,--nay, now, -yon isn't true!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but it is, I tell ye,--true enough! True -as yon Sunday fringe o' yourn as you bought in -Witham!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And wi' brass, you said?" Eliza let the -flippant remark pass without notice, and Sarah -nodded. "A deal o' brass?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yon's what he says."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, well, I never did!" The angry wind -of her sigh passed over Sarah's head and rustled -the honesty in a vase behind. She repeated -"I never did!" and creaked away from the -enemy towards the window. Behind her, -Geordie's mother allowed the ghost of a smile -to find a fleeting resting-place on her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And so he's on his road home, is he,--coming -right back?" Mrs. Will kept her back turned, -thinking hard as she spoke. There was no -section of Sarah's statement but she intended -to prove by the inch. "Ay, well, it's what they -mostly do when they've made their brass."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He'll be over here, I reckon, afore you can -say knife! Taking first boat, he says he is, or -the fastest he can find." She turned her head -towards the door through which his voice had -come in the dream. "What, I shouldn't be that -surprised if he was to open yon door now!"</p> -<p class="pnext">There was such conviction in her tone that -Eliza, too, was startled into turning her head. -There was nothing to see, of course, and she -turned back, but her ears still thrilled with the -thrill in Sarah's voice. The cowman, passing, -saw her face behind the glass, and said to himself -that the missis was out for trouble once again.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was silent for a while, trying vainly to -grapple the situation in the pause. She saw well -enough that there was nothing to be gained by -dispute if the story were true. She still looked -to be top-dog in that or any other case, because -Blindbeck pride was founded on solid Blindbeck -gold; but there was no denying that the enemy -would lie in a totally different position, and -would have to be met on totally different ground. -If, on the other hand, the great statement was -a lie, there would be plenty of time for vengeance -when the facts were known. Her malicious soul -argued that the real game was to give Sarah -plenty of rope, but her evil temper stood in the -way of the more subtle method. It got the -upper hand of her at last, and she flung round -with an angry swing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I can't believe it!" she exclaimed -passionately,--"I just can't! It's a -pack o' lies, that's what it is, Sarah,--a gert -string o' senseless lies!"</p> -<p class="pnext">This coarse description of her effort hurt -Sarah in her artistic pride. She stiffened still -further.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I reckoned you'd take it like that," she -replied in a dignified tone. "'Tisn't decent -nor Christian, but it's terble nat'ral."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't see how you could look for folks to -take it different!" Eliza cried. "'Tisn't a -likely sort o' story, any way round. Ne'er-do-weels -don't make their fortunes every day o' the -week, and your Geordie was a wastrel, if ever -there was one yet. You don't look like good -news, neither, come to that. They've just been -saying so in t'other room."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good news wants a bit o' getting used to," -Sarah said quietly, "same as everything else. -When you've never had no luck for years and -years you don't seem at first as if you could -rightly take it in."</p> -<p class="pnext">"More particular when you're making it up -out o' your own head!" Eliza scoffed, but -growing more and more unwillingly convinced. -"Nay, now, Sarah!" she added impatiently, -her hands twitching,--"what d'ye think ye're -at? What about all yon talk o' giving up the -farm? No need for such a to-do if Geordie's -coming home!"</p> -<p class="pnext">For the first time, though only just for a -second, Sarah quailed. For the first time she -had a glimpse of the maze in which she had set -her feet, and longed sharply for her physical -sight as if it would help her mental vision. But -her brain was still quick with the power of the -dream, and it rose easily to the sudden need. -"It's like this, d'ye see," she announced firmly. -"Simon knows nowt about it yet. I didn't -mean telling him till we'd gitten back."</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza had followed the explanation with -lowering brows, but now she burst into one of -her great laughs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Losh, Sarah, woman! but I'd have a -better tale than that! What, you'd never ha' -let him give in his notice, and you wi' your -tongue in your cheek all the time! ... When -did you get yon precious letter o' yours?" -she enquired swiftly, switching on to another -track.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Just last minute this morning as we was -starting off." Sarah was thoroughly launched -now on her wild career. Each detail as she -required it rose triumphantly to her lips. -"Simon was back in t'stable wi' t'horse when -postman come, so I put it away in my pocket -and settled to say nowt. I thought it was -likely axing for money or summat like that, and -Simon had more than enough to bother him -as it was. I got May Fleming to read it for me -at doctor's," she finished simply, with a supreme -touch. "I'm terble bad wi' my eyes, Eliza, -if you'll trouble to think on."</p> -<p class="pnext">Once again Eliza was forced to belief against -her will, and then once again she leaped at the -only discrepancy in the tale.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You could ha' tellt Simon easy enough on -the road out!" she threw at her in a swift -taunt. "There's time for a deal o' telling -at your rate o' speed!"</p> -<p class="pnext">But now, to her vexed surprise, it was Sarah -who laughed, and with a society smoothness that -would have been hard to beat. It was in matters -like these that the dream lifted her into another -sphere, puzzling her clumsy antagonist by the -finer air she seemed to breathe.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, now, Eliza!" she said good-humouredly, -and with something almost like -kindliness in her voice, "whatever-like use is -it telling a man owt when he's chock full o' -summat else? Simon was fit to crack himself -over some joke as he'd heard in Witham, -talking a deal o' nonsense and laughing fit to -shake the trap! Coming from market's no -time any day for telling a man important news, -and anyway I'd never ha' got a word in -edgeways if I'd tried." She paused a moment, and -then continued, aspiring to still greater heights. -"I'd another reason an' all for wanting it kept -quiet. I knew he'd be sure an' certain to go -shouting it out here."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, and why ever not, I'd like to know!" -Eliza gasped, when she was able to speak. -"Come to that, you were smart enough shoving -it down our throats yourself!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but that was because I lost my temper," -Sarah admitted, with a noble simplicity which -again struck the other dumb. "If I hadn't ha' -lost my temper," she added, "I should ha' said -nowt,--<em class="italics">nowt!</em>"--a statement so perfectly true -in itself that it needed nothing to make it tell. -"I never meant you should hear it so sudden-like," -she went on gently, the kindness growing -in her voice. "It's hard lines our Geordie -should ha' done so well for himself, and not -your Jim. I never meant to crow over you -about it, Eliza,--I didn't, indeed. I never -thought o' such a thing!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza was making a noise like a motor-car -trying to start, but Sarah took up her tale -before she could reply.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As for letting Simon give in his notice as -we'd fixed, I don't know as it'll make that -much differ, after all. There's my eyes, for one -thing, as I mentioned before. Blind folk is only -a nuisance wherever they be, but they're a real, -right-down nuisance on a farm. And Geordie'll -want more nor a farm, I reckon, wi' all yon -brass to splash. He'll want summat wi' stables -and gardens and happen fishing an' all,--a -grand gentleman's spot, likely, same as the -Hall itself."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Will felt the world wheeling rapidly -about her, and tried to clutch at it as it went. -Her temples throbbed and her throat worked, -and her staring eyes went blind. She groped -her way to the window, and flung up the stiff -sash; and, as she stood there, drawing panting -breaths, Simon and Will came sauntering -through the yard. Her eyes, clearing again -in the rush of air, caught the incipient smile -on Simon's face, the new signs of interest and -life in his whole look. He could know nothing -about the great news, if what Sarah said was -true; the utmost that he could do was to sense -it in the air. But his look of subtle contentment -was a sufficient annoyance in itself. It was the -last straw, indeed, which broke the back of -Eliza's self-control. When she turned again her -words and her breath came with the leap of a -mountain stream.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wonder you're not afraid, Sarah Thornthet, -to be setting there reeling off lies like -hanks o' cotton off a bobbin! Happen you're -just thinking you'll get a rise out o' me and -mine, but if that's the best you can do by way -of a joke, well, I think nowt on't, and so I tell -you! Geordie coming home wi' brass! Geordie -wanting the Hall and suchlike! Nay, Sarah, -I might ha' believed the rest wi' a bit o' pulling -and pushing, but yon last's taking it over far. -Why, I'd as lief believe he was going to get the -King's Crown right out, wi' mappen Witham -Town Hall for a spot to live in! As for thinking -o' me and my feelings and suchlike stuff, you've -never troubled that much about 'em to start -bothering now. There's only two ways about it, -Sarah, and I reckon I know which it is. It's -either a smart lie you've been telling from end -to end, or else it's never Geordie that's coming, -but our Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She choked when she came to the last words, -both from sudden nervousness, and lack of -breath, and again Sarah gave her well-bred laugh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wouldn't be as hard o' faith as you, -Eliza," she said placidly,--"not for a deal! It's -you, not me, would have heard if Jim was -coming home. What's Jim to do wi' me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He'd a deal to do wi' you when he was in -England, as everybody knows! Nay, you hated -the sight o' him,--that's true enough,--but you -were right keen on trying to set him agen me, -all the same. What, the last letter I had from -him,--and terble saucy an' all,--was blacking -me over summat I'd said of you as his lordship -didn't like! Nay, if he come home, Sarah, he'd -come to you, not me, and right glad you'd be to -have him while he'd a penny before his teeth! -Ay, and why shouldn't our lad ha' done as well -as yours, and happen better, come to that? -He was the smarter lad o' the two, and come -o' smarter folk,--ay, but he did now, Sarah, so -you'll kindly shut your mouth! You've only -to look at the way we've done at Blindbeck, me -and Will, and then at the mess o' things you've -made at yon pig-hull on the marsh! It stands -to reason our lad would be the likely one to -make out, just as it isn't in reason to expect owt -from yours!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She came a step nearer as she finished, -twisting her plump hands, her voice, as it -mounted higher, full of bewilderment and angry -tears.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will you swear to it Jim isn't coming, -Sarah?" she demanded,--"will you swear? -Will you swear as it isn't my lad that's coming -and not yours?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah said, "Ay, I will that!" in a hearty -tone, and with such absolute readiness that -Eliza bit her lip. "If you've a Bible anywhere -handy," she went on tranquilly, "I'll swear to -it right off."</p> -<p class="pnext">But already Eliza had drawn back in order -to follow a fresh trail. Quite suddenly she had -perceived the only means of getting at the truth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I'll not trouble you," she sneered. -"'Tisn't worth it, after all. I shouldn't like our -grand Family Bible to turn yeller wi' false -swearing! Geordie's letter'll be proof enough, -Sarah, now I come to think on. I'll believe owt -about Halls and suchlike, if you'll show me that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She came a step nearer still, holding out her -hand, and instantly Sarah's lips tightened and -her eyes narrowed. She might have had a -dozen sacred letters about her, from the look -of her, at that moment. It might have been -Geordie's face itself that she guarded from the -touch of Eliza's hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, I'd be like to show you his letter, -wouldn't I?" she answered, with a wicked -smile. "You and me have been such terble -friends all these years,--I'd be like to show you -owt from my bonny lad! Nay, Eliza, you know -I'd shove it in t'fire unread, afore I'd let you as -much as clap eyes on a single word!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza wheeled away from her with an angry -oath, and began to walk to and fro, setting the -loose planks jumping and creaking under her -feet, and the china rattling and clinking on the -shelves. Her hands worked in and out of each -other with convulsive movements, and now and -then she flung out her heavy arms. She was -working herself into one of those storms which the -folk at the farm knew only too well, but Sarah, -who was the cause of it, did not seem to care. -She, too, however, was breathing faster than -before, and a faint colour had stayed in her -waxen cheek. She still felt as if, in that last -bout, she had protected something vital from -Eliza's hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll be bound it's Jim!" Eliza was saying -senselessly, over and over again. "I'll swear -it's Jim!" ... It was like a giant's voice, -Sarah thought to herself, the voice of a cruel, -clumsy giant-child. "You're telling a lie, -Sarah,--a nasty lie! You're jealous, that's -what it is,--jealous and mean! <em class="italics">Geordie</em> wi' -brass? Not likely! ... Nay, it's Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's plain enough it's the brass you're after -and nowt else," Sarah said in her cool tones. -"You'd have no use for the poor lad if he come -back without a cent!"</p> -<p class="pnext">But even while the words were on her lips, -Eliza, creaking to and fro, was brought to a -sudden halt. The thing that held her was a -photograph of Jim, catching her eye in its frame -of crimson plush. If he had been older when it -was taken, it would have been banished long -ago, but here he was only a mischievous baby, -struggling in his mother's arms. Eliza stared -at it as she stood in front of the mantelpiece, -and quite suddenly she began to cry. The tears -poured down her face, and her hands trembled -and her body shook. Into the brutal voice came -a note at which Sarah, unable to trace the -cause, yet quivered in every nerve.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, Sarah, you're wrong, Sarah, -you're dead wrong! I'd be glad to see him -just for himself, I would that! He's been -nowt but a trouble and disappointment all -his life, but I'd be glad to see him, all the -same." She put out the plump fingers which -Sarah loathed, and drew them caressingly over -the baby face. "I can't do wi' failures," she -added brokenly; "they make me wild; and -Jim was the only failure Blindbeck ever -hatched. But for all that he was the bonniest -baby of the lot, and there's times I never -remember nowt but that. There's days I just -ache for the sound of his voice, and fair break -my heart to think he'll never come back."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was no doubting the sincerity of her -grief, and the big sobs shaking their way through -her shook Sarah, too. Her own lips trembled, -and her eyes filled; her hands quivered on the -arms of the chair. She could not see the pitiful -fingers stroking the child's face, but she who had -offered that worship herself needed little help -to guess. She had her revenge in full as she sat -and listened to the passion that never dies, -forcing its way upward even through Eliza's -leathern soul; but the revenge was a two-edged -sword that wounded herself as well. All -the generosity in her that was still alive and -kind would have sprung to the surface instantly -if the story had been true. She would have -groped her way to Eliza's side in an effort to -console, and perhaps the lifelong enemies might -have drawn together for once. But the story -was not true, and she had nothing to offer and -no right of any sort to speak. She could only -sit where she was and suffer and shake, hating -herself more in this moment of absolute conquest -than she had ever hated Eliza in her darkest hour.</p> -<p class="pnext">But, as a matter of fact, Eliza's grief would -have passed before she could even have tottered -to her feet. Her own lips were still shaking -when Eliza's had hardened again; her own -eyes were still wet when Eliza's were dry with -hate. The passion which for a brief moment had -been selfless and sincere was turned once again -into the channel of jealous rage. She swung -round so swiftly that her sleeve caught the little -frame, and it fell forward unnoticed with a sharp -tinkle of broken glass.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's summat wrong about it all," she -cried venomously, "and I'll not rest till I find -out what it is! What's Geordie mean by landing -up so smart, and leaving our Jim a thousand -mile behind? It's a nasty sort o' trick, if it's -nothing worse, seeing how they were thick as -thieves as lads. I'll tell you what it is, Sarah, -and you may swallow it as you can,--if Geordie's -gitten brass, it's because he's robbed it off our -Jim! Like enough he's put an end to him -for it, the poor, honest lad--knifed him -... finished him ... put him out o' the road...!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The fierce malice of the voice penetrated into -the passage, and carried its message into the -kitchen and the yard. Will and Simon heard -it at the stable door and looked at each other -and turned instantly towards the house. Passing -the parlour window, they saw the women rigid -on their feet, and felt the current of hate sweep -strongly across their path. They had a glimpse -of Sarah's face, white, blind and quiet: and -Eliza's, vindictive, purple, and bathed with -furious tears. Her heavy tone beat at the other's -immobility as if with actual blows, and the glass -in the cabinet rang and rang in sweet reply. -Will quickened his pace as he neared the house, -for he knew that Eliza did not always stop at -words. Indeed, her hands were reaching out -towards Sarah's throat at the very moment -he stepped inside.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whisht, can't ye, Eliza!" he ordered -roughly, his voice harsh with the swift reaction -from the little space of content through which -he and his brother had just passed. "What's -taken you, missis, to be going on like yon?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He was now in the parlour, with Simon at his -heels, while the company from the kitchen -clustered round the door. Peering into the tiny -arena round each other's heads, they giggled and -whispered, curious and alarmed. Sarah could -hear them stirring and gurgling just beyond her -sight, and felt their rapacious glances fastened -upon her face. Sally tried to push her way -through to her aunt's side, but was stopped by -the solid figure of Elliman, set in the very front. -The lads had forsaken the milking to run to the -window and peep in, and a dog lifted its bright -head and planted its forefeet on the sill. All the -life of the place seemed drawn to this little -room, where at last the women were fighting -things out to the very death.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's amiss, d'ye say?" Eliza echoed his -speech. "Nay, what isn't amiss! Here's Sarah -has it her Geordie's a-coming home, but never -a word as I can hear about our Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The eyes of the brothers met in a startled -glance, and the red came painfully into Simon's -face. Before they could speak, however, Eliza -swept their intention from them like a western -gale.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's come to Jim, I want to know? Why -isn't it our Jim? Geordie's made his pile, so -Sarah says, but I can't hear of a pile for Jim. -He's dead, that's what it is! ... Geordie's -finished him, I'll swear! He's robbed -him! ... knifed him! ... given him a shove in -t'beck...!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Again she made that threatening movement -towards Sarah's throat, but Will put out his -hand and caught her by the wrist. Both the -giggles and whispers had died a sudden death, -and the lads at the window pressed nearer and -looked scared. Sally succeeded at last in -forcing her way through, careless that Elliman -suffered severely as she passed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"For goodness' sake, stop it, mother!" she -cried sharply. "You're fair daft! Can't you -wait to make a stir till Geordie's landed back? -He'll tell us right enough then what's happened -to our Jim."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He'll tell us nowt--nowt----!" Eliza began -again on a high note, but Simon threw up his -hand with a sudden snarl.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whisht, can't ye! You fair deafen a body, -Eliza!" he flung out. "What's all this stir -about Geordie coming back?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a lie, that's what it is!" Eliza -exploded again, and again he silenced her with -an angry "Whisht!" He kept his eyes on -her a moment longer, as if daring her to speak, -and then let them travel slowly and almost -reluctantly to his wife's face. He opened his -lips to address her and then changed his mind, -turning instead to the crew beyond the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me about it, can't you?" he demanded -angrily. "One o' you speak up! Emily -Marion--Addison--you wi' the fat face!" He -jerked a contemptuous thumb at Elliman, who -went crimson with extreme disgust. "One o' -you tell me the meaning o' this precious hullaballoo!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Elliman looked across to Sally for help, but -did not get it. Instead, she turned her eyes -away, ignoring his appeal.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's hardly my place to enlighten you, sir," -he said, with an offended shrug, "but I don't -mind telling you the little I know. Apparently -your son Geordie is expected soon, and with a -fat purse in his pocket to buy him a welcome home."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Geordie's coming back, d'ye say?" Simon -stared at him with bewildered eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So Mrs. Thornthwaite has given us to understand."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And wi' brass? Plenty o' brass? <em class="italics">Geordie</em> -wi' brass?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Enough and to spare, if all we're told is true."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but that's just what it isn't!" Eliza -broke out on a peacock scream, and this time -Will actually shook her into silence. The -poignancy of the moment had hushed the rest -of the audience into complete quiet. There -was no sound in the room but Eliza's breathing -as Simon turned again to look at his wife.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's it all about, Sarah?" he asked -quietly, though his voice shook. "You never -said nowt about Geordie coming to me."</p> -<p class="pnext">In the pause that followed Sally drew away -from her aunt's side, as if conscious that this -moment was for the two of them alone. The -silence waited for Sarah's answer, but she could -not bring herself to speak. In the heat of her -victory she had forgotten that Simon also -would hear the lying tale. It was the only -hitch in the splendid machinery of the lie, but -it was enough in itself to bring the whole of it -to the ground. Here was Simon in front of her, -asking for the truth, and if a hundred Elizas had -been present she could still have given him -nothing but the truth. But indeed, at that -moment, Eliza, and all that Eliza stood for, -was swept away. In that hush and sudden -confronting of souls Sarah and Simon were -indeed alone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Geordie's never coming, is he, Sarah?" -he asked anxiously. "Nay, you've dreamed it, -my lass! And he's rich, d'ye say?--why, that -settles it right out! Why, it was nobbut the -other day he was writing home for brass!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Still she did not speak, and quite suddenly -he was wroth, vexed by her mask-like face and -the sudden diminishing of his hope.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Losh, woman!" he cried angrily. "You -look half daft! Is yon lad of ours coming, or -is he not? Is it truth you're telling me, or a -pack o' lies?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She stirred then, moved by the cheated sound -in his angry voice. She gave a sigh. The -fooling of Eliza had been utterly great and -glorious, but it had come to an end. "It was -just lies," she heard herself saying in a passionless -tone, and then with a last twinge of regret, -she sighed again.</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza's scream of "I knew it! I knew it!" -merged in the chorus of exclamation from the -group about the door. Will said nothing, fixing -his sister-in-law with his kindly gaze, but -Simon fell back muttering, and staring as if -afraid. He wondered, looking at her -unemotional face, whether the trouble about her -eyes was beginning to touch her brain. She -herself had said there was no knowing what -blind weather might possibly do, no telling -what a blind body's brain might someday -suddenly breed....</p> -<p class="pnext">He came back to the consciousness of Eliza's -voice as a man from the dead hears the roar of -life as he returns.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wonder you're not struck down where you -stand, Sarah Thornthet! I wonder you're not -liggin' dead on t'floor! But you'll be punished -for it, right enough; you'll be paid for it, never -fear! You'll see, summat'll happen to you afore -so long,--I shouldn't wonder if it happened before -morn! Like enough, the next news as we have -o' Geordie'll be as he's dead or drowned.... -I'll serve you a slap on t'lugs, Will, if you can't -shape to let me be!"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was Sally who saved the situation for the -second time that day.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fetch the trap, Uncle Simon, and look -sharp about it!" she commanded smartly, -"and you come and set down, Aunt Sarah, -until it's round. Let her be, can't you!" she -added roughly, flinging round on her mother. -"She's that tired and put out she don't know -what's she's at."</p> -<p class="pnext">She shook her fist at the window, and the -faces disappeared like morning frost. Then she -turned on the others and ordered them out, too.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd best be getting about your business!" -she commanded them, hand on hip. "You -should be in t'dairy this minute, Mary Phyllis,--you -know that as well as me. I'd think shame -o' myself, Mr. and Mrs. Addison, to be helping -other folks' wi' their weekly wash! Same to -you, Elliman Wilkinson, and a bit over, come -to that! You're not one o' the family yet by a -long chalk, my lad; nay, nor like to be, neither, -if you don't see to mend your ways!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza still lingered, however, loth that -anything should be left unsaid, but Sally ushered -her resolutely to the door. She protested to the -last inch, and the hand that had been denied -judgment on Sarah flew up and slapped Sally's -face. The girl looked at her with scornful eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, you can't keep your hands off folk, can -you?" she said bitterly. "You never could. -I remember Jim saying he fair hated you for it -when we were bairns. That was why he always -liked Aunt Sarah a deal better than he liked you!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll find other folk free wi' their hands," -Eliza stormed, "if you're that free wi' your -impident tongue! Yon fool of an Elliman'll -stand no nonsense, for all he looks so new-milk -soft! Not that he wants any truck wi' you at -all, as far as I can see. It's Mary Phyllis he -can't take his eyes off, and no wonder, neither. -She was always a sight better-looking than you, -and she's younger, by a deal. You're that old -and teptious you fair turn the cream sour just -by being along wi't in t'house! Nay, I reckon -you can put wedding and suchlike out o' your -head as soon as you like! <em class="italics">You'll</em> never have a -house of your own, or a man to put in it; and -as for bairns o' your own to slap, why, you'll -never have none o' <em class="italics">them</em>...!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She said the rest to the closed door, a stout, -oaken door which even she was reluctant to -attack. In the few pauses that she allowed -herself she could hear nothing inside the room, -and presently, tiring of the one-sided contest, -she waddled heavily away along the passage. -She was in the dairy a minute later, and saw -through the window the brothers yoking the -old horse. Through the window, too, she -caught scraps of their talk, and strained her -ears eagerly to catch its bent. As if by magic -the anger left her face, and a little smile grew -happily on her lips. She even hummed a little -tune to herself, as she watched and listened, -leaning against the frame....</p> -<p class="pnext">The silence persisted in the room that she had -left, as if the air was so laden with words that -it would hold no more. Sarah groped her way -to the rocking-chair and sat down again to -wait. Sally went to the window, and stared -miserably into the yard. So they waited -together until they heard the rattle of the -wheels along the stones....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">VII</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Even now, however, the Blindbeck comedy -was not quite played out. Eliza had -still to give it its finishing touch. The lately -routed audience must have been conscious of -this, for they assembled again in order to watch -the Thornthwaites take their leave. As a rule, -the Simons simply faded away, unperceived and -unsped of anybody but Will. They were not -welcome when they came, and they were not -lamented when they went away. But to-day -Sarah had managed to touch the imagination -of the crowd, arousing unwilling admiration and -even respect. The Addisons, for instance, -though outwardly badly shocked, rejoiced by -proxy in a crime which they would never have -had the courage to commit themselves. Even -Elliman was heard to remark that Sarah's -psychology seemed possibly worthy of study, -after all. The main motive with all, however, -was a sneaking hope that, on some ground or -another, the opponents might go for each other again.</p> -<p class="pnext">As if by accident, therefore, they drifted out -of the house, and on Sarah's appearance were to -be found sitting on rails or pig-sty walls, or -leaning in graceful attitudes against the porch. -Sarah could not see them, but Simon could, and -divided a scowl of dislike amongst the lot. The -Thornthwaites were actually settled in the trap -when Eliza came bustling after them into the yard.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was such a different Eliza, however, that -at first it looked as if the audience were to be -cheated of their scene. The virulent harridan -of ten minutes ago had vanished as if she had -never been. This Eliza was hearty, smiling, -serene, the smooth-faced, smooth-tongued -mocker which Sarah detested most. Even her -hair and dress, lately dishevelled by rage, were -now as tidy and sleek as the fur of a -well-brushed cat. She came to a halt close beside -the wheel, and Sarah started when she heard her speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So you're off, are you, Sarah? Ay, well, -you'll be best at home! I reckon our Sally's -right, and you're not yourself at all. Mind and -see doctor again, first thing as ever you can. -It's a bad sign, they say, to go making up -fancy tales. Folks as get telling lies is framing -for softening of the brain."</p> -<p class="pnext">Will looked back with a frown as he hurried -on to open the gate.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We've had enough o' that, missis!" he -called sharply. "Just you let Sarah be!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Will tossed her head, but managed to -preserve her compassionate air.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Losh, master!" she reproached him loudly. -"You've no call to speak so sharp. I'm -meaning kindly enough by poor Sarah here, I'm sure! -She's welcome to tell lies till they turn her black -in the face, but it isn't healthy for her, all the -same. I shouldn't like to see poor Sarah in -Garland's Asylum, or some such spot as yon. -Ay, well, we'll be having her close at hand -afore so long, and then we can do our best for -her ourselves!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah started a second time when she said -that, and the pig-sty audience brightened and -pricked its ears. Simon muttered an oath and -pulled at the horse until it sidled and backed, -forcing the subtle tormentor to retreat.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You stand back, missis," he cried angrily, -waving a threatening whip, "and take your -long tongue with you, or it'll be tripping us in -t'road!"</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a burst of laughter at this show of -wit, and Eliza flared instantly into open war. -She raised her voice after the departing pair, -stepping back heavily upon Elliman's feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll have to speak different from that, -Mr. Thornthet," she called shrilly, "if you're -coming to Blindbeck to act as our hired man!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The laughter broke out again, and then -stopped, cut short. Simon, red to the ears, -raised the whip violently above the horse's back, -but it was checked before it descended by -Sarah's outstretched hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bide a minute, Simon," she said quietly. -"Just hold on. What's Eliza meaning to say by that?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon looked helplessly about him, noting -the interested gaping faces on all sides. "Ax -me on t'road," he said desperately, yearning to -get away. "It's time we were getting on, -missis. Ax me on t'road!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, ax him now, and ha' done wi' it, -Sarah!" Eliza jeered, advancing again. "Or -ax me if you want, and I'll tell you mighty -sharp! Likely you've been wondering what's -to come o' you when you leave the farm? Ay, -well, our cowman's job is going begging at -present, and I hear your master's thinking o' -taking it on."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a pause after that, in which even -the pig-sty audience was hushed as mice, and -the fretting horse itself was suddenly still. -Those nearest to Sarah heard her give a sigh, -the same little sigh with which she had loosed -her hold on the Parlour Dream. The next -moment Simon had thankfully eased the reins, -and the trap went creaking and jolting out of -the still yard....</p> -<p class="pnext">Eliza watched it triumphantly until the very -last, and then, bursting into a laugh, turned -expectantly for applause. But for once her -usually appreciative audience failed her of her -due. They avoided her eyes and looked at their -boots, or leaned over the pig-sty walls and -pretended a passionate interest in the pigs. The -Addisons, in whom Christian charity was apt -to rise and fall like a turned-on jet, murmured -tepid thanks for their entertainment, and -hurried away. Even the smug cousin refused -to play up to Eliza for once, partly because of -a latent fineness of feeling which she had hurt, -but chiefly because she had trodden on his toes. -Turning his back determinedly upon Mary -Phyllis, he bent to whisper something in Sally's -ear. She hesitated a moment, lifting her eyes -to his sobered face, and then followed him -slowly towards the track across the fields.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">VIII</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Outside the farmyard wall Sarah again -put out a hand to Simon's arm. "Yon's -Taylor's spot, isn't it?" she enquired, as the -cottage came up. "Just hold on a minute, and -let me see."</p> -<p class="pnext">He obeyed, watching her nervously as she -bent and peered at the house, and wondering -uneasily what she was about. She knew the -house well enough, both inside and out, so she -could not be stopping to look at it just for that. -She must be trying to form some impression of -it that was wholly new, perhaps picturing it as -it would be when she had come to live in it herself.</p> -<p class="pnext">When he found that she did not speak, he -began to offer clipped remarks, anxiously -pointing out objects that she was quite unable -to see.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a good house, missis.... You'll -remember it's a tidy spot. There's a fairish -garden for cabbishes and the like, and a bit of -a drying-ground as well. As for berry-bushes, -there's gooseberry and black currant and -red ... and danged if there isn't a few rasps -over at far side wall an' all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah looked away from the house the -moment he started to speak, as if some spell -were broken by the sound of his voice. "Ay," -she said, with a total lack of interest, and -staring ahead.... "Now, master, we'd best get on."</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon, cut off in mid-flight, repeated -"Rasps!" in a feeble tone, and again Sarah -said "Ay," and requested him to get on. He -drove away rather reluctantly, looking behind -him as he went, and muttering of Taylor's rasps -and cabbishes until they were finally lost to sight.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now once more they were in the high-flanked -lane, with Blindbeck and all that Blindbeck -stood for fallen away at last. The cross went -with them, indeed, but the calvary dropped -behind. The horse turned homeward, and, -encouraged by Will's corn, showed a sudden -freakish revival of vanished youth. Bicycles -met and passed them in the narrow road, -sliding by like thistledown on a wind, while the -riders saw only an elderly couple apparently -half asleep. Yet even the dullest farm-lad -would have cried aloud to them if he had known -to what they went. He would have flung -himself off his bicycle and barred the road, a humble -but valiant imitation of an Angel of God.</p> -<p class="pnext">Evening was coming, but the day was still -alive, incredibly long as the afternoon had -seemed. Simon's old watch, put right that -morning in Witham, asserted that it was only -half-past four. The atmosphere had never been -really light, and only imperceptibly was it -drawing down to dusk. The grey seemed to -have deepened and settled a little, but that was -all. It was a day on which people forgot the -time, as Mr. Dent had said, a day when they had -every excuse for forgetting the right time. Simon -felt suddenly as though he had never seen the -sun either rise or set for at least a week. -Yesterday there had been only a swift setting, hurriedly -blotted out, and to-day, if there had been any -fugitive brightness of farewell, it must have -passed while they were still at the farm. The -night was coming unduly to the grey-green land -which had never had its meed of sun, just as the -night came unfairly to lives whose share of -glamour and glory had been missed. He longed -to see a light spring out of the west, showing -the silver water in a shining line, and re-tinting -the heavy, neutral-coloured earth.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sun,--evening sun lying over the sea,--would -have made things easier for both of them, but -especially for his wife. Even though there was -so little that she could see, the warmth and -light would at least have lain tenderly upon her -lids. Trouble and change were always easier -to bear under a smiling sky; it did not mock -at the trouble, as smiling faces so often seemed -to do. Rain and the dark seemed to narrow a -trouble in, so that change was a nameless peril -into which each step was into a void. But -there was to be no sun for these lost folk who -seemed to be straying all the day long; only the -unstirred breath of the mist in the blotted west, -filling the mighty bowl at whose bottom lay the sea.</p> -<p class="pnext">They felt strange with each other, now that -they were alone, because of all that the other -had done while the two of them were apart. -Simon's sudden decision was as inexplicable to -his wife as her afternoon's jest with Eliza had -seemed to him. In his place she would never -have stooped to make of herself the younger -brother's man; she would have worked for -the hardest driver amongst them sooner than -that. Even the close affection between the -brothers could not dignify the position in her -eyes. She could understand something of -Simon's yearning towards the farm, but Sarah -was never the sort of which they make -doorkeepers in Heaven. She would never really -have understood the strength of the pull, even -with no Eliza set like a many-eyed monster on -the farmyard wall. He, on the other hand, could -not even pretend to understand the Lie, but then -the Vision of the Parlour had been granted to -her and not to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Both their minds, however, were at work -more on the change that was coming than on -Sarah's sudden craze, since always the pressing -business of life must supersede the dream. -Simon, indeed, did not want to think about -Sarah's behaviour further than he could help, -because of that sinister saying about the doings -of blind brains. As for Sarah herself, she had -done with the dream for ever in that moment -when she came face to face with the limits of -her lie. It had had its tremendous hour in the -down-treading of a lifelong foe, but in that one -stupendous achievement it had finally passed. -Never again would she be able to shut herself -in the spell, until the blind saw and the lost -spoke, and the sea was crossed in a leap. Never -again would she be able to believe that Geordie -might come home.</p> -<p class="pnext">In spite of their shameful departure, fast -fading, however, from his mind, Simon was -already planning the bitter-sweet prospect of -their near return. Like so many ideas impossible -and even repellent at the start, this had already -become natural and full of an acid charm. For -the time being he was content to ignore the -drawbacks of the position, and to concentrate -only upon its obvious gains. His mind, -hurrying forward over the next few months, was -already disposing of stock, farm-implements -and surplus household gear; and in his -complete absorption he forgot that he was not -alone, and kept jerking out fragments of -disjointed speech. Sarah allowed him to amuse -himself after this fashion for some time, and -then broke dryly into his current of thought.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You may as well tell me what's settled, and -get it by with," she observed in a sardonic tone. -"So far, even Eliza seems to know more about -it than me. You and Will seem to ha' fixed -things up wi' a vengeance, that you have! -You'd best to tell me how it come about, instead -of booing away to yourself like a badly calf."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, it was all fixed that sharp," Simon -grumbled, with an injured air, though very -relieved at heart to hear her speak. "There -was no time to ax nobody nor nowt. I'm still -a bit maiselt about it myself, for the matter o' -that. I don't know as I'll be that surprised if -I hear to-morrow it's all off. As for Eliza, it -fair beats me how she could ha' got wind of it -so smart! She likely hid herself somewheres -when we was talking it out; though she's not -that easy to miss,--gert, spying toad!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He brisked considerably now that the first -awkwardness was past, and went on to tell her, -after his usual backwards and forwards fashion, -exactly how the new arrangement had come about.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's not much to crack on, I dare say," he -finished, pleading with her across the -disapproving silence which had again risen between -them like a wall, "but, when all's said and done, -it's a sight better than I'd looked for, by a -deal. I'd ha' been bound to hire myself -somewheres, to help us make out, and there isn't a -decenter master in t'countryside than Will. It's -a deal better than being odd-job man at some -one-horse spot, or maybe scrattin' up weeds and -suchlike at some private house. There'll be a -decent wage, think on, and milk,--ay, and -happen a load o' coal an' all. Will'll see as we're -rightly done by, never fret! We'll be right -comfortable, I'm sure. Will says his lasses'll -give you a hand wi' washing and the like, and -if happen we get a good sale we might run to a -bit o' help ourselves. You'll miss t'horse and -cart, I reckon, but we'll find a way out o' yon -as well. If you felt as you fancied a bit of a -ride, Will'd like enough loan me a horse and trap."</p> -<p class="pnext">He was coaxing her for all he was worth, but -neither the coaxing nor the explanation seemed -to get any further than her ears. Again he felt -the spasm of irritation which he had felt in the -parlour, and was at the same time reminded of -its original cause.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't say it'll be over pleasant for either -on us," he went on vexedly, as she did not open -her lips, "but you'll likely admit I did the best -I could for us, all the same. It's a sad pity you -and Eliza pull together so bad, but it's over -late to think o' mending it now. Anyway, you -did nowt to mend it by telling yon string o' lies -this afternoon! What, in the name o' goodness, -made you act so strange?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She moved then, a touch of the afternoon -glamour reaching from Blindbeck, and following -her down the lane.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know.... Things come over -folk, now and then. I'm right sorry, though, if -I set you thinking it was the lad."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've given up thinking owt o' the sort -long since," he said dejectedly. "I should -ha' thought you would ha' done the same an' all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Things come over folk," she repeated, -unwilling to say more, and he nodded his head, -relieved by her softer tone. "You'll try to -make up your mind to Blindbeck, will you, -missis?" he pressed on nervously, hoping her -mood would last. "It's a bad best, maybe, but -I nobbut did what I could."</p> -<p class="pnext">She gave a sharp sigh, but her voice was -firm. "Ay, I'll make up my mind to it, after -a bit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a big change at our time of life, but you'll -settle, never fear."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, I'll settle all right. Don't you fret."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a good shop, Sarah."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And Will's a right good sort."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, ay."</p> -<p class="pnext">The sudden gentleness of her mood prompted -him to a further unburdening of his soul. He -leaned forward a little in the trap, staring over -the grey fields, and with the note of pleading -rising and falling in his tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't mind telling you now, Sarah, but I've -been fair fretted out o' my senses all this while. -There's been times I've felt like just making off -on t'sands, and letting tide settle it for me for -good an' all. Ay, and by Gox! it very near come -about, too, one day when I was mooning along -and not looking where I was at! But there was -you to see to, and I couldn't rightly bring myself -to chuck up the sponge. 'Tisn't as if the lad -was dead, neither,--there was that as well. He's -as good as dead, likely, but it's a different thing, -all the same. Folks can get along on a mighty -little hope,--same as yon old horse as died just -when it was learning to live on nowt! We've -come to a bonny pass, these days, you and -Geordie an' me, but the world isn't past bearing -as long as the three on us is over sod."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was with a sense of enlightenment and -escape that they came out finally on to the -high road, for in the cleft of the lane every curve -of the land stole what little clarity was left to the -slowly withdrawing earth. Even Sarah was -faintly conscious of lightened lids, as well as of -easier breathing as the borders of the road -drew further apart. In the lane they had been -high, looming presences, over-close to the -lurching wheels, but now they ceased to oppress -her, though she was still aware that they -marched with her as she went. It was as if the -furniture of the land was being withdrawn into -the wings before the curtain of night was really -down; yet even in its slow departure it still -formed the picture and dominated the scene. -The only real comfort for brain and eyes was -on the unfurnished marsh, where even the -fenced roads lifted themselves as often as not -above their fences to look abroad.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was more life, also, on the open road,--cycles -and traps, and people walking in twos and -threes; motor-cars, too, at which Simon never -so much as glanced aside, though now they were -really beginning to look like ghosts in the sinking -light. Even when there was nobody on the -road there was still the sense of being part of an -unseen train, the link which binds traveller to -traveller on every principal highway in the land, -but especially on those which run north and -south. The link strengthens and the thrill -deepens as the day lengthens and the hours -go on. Each wonders instinctively to what home -the other is hastening before he is overtaken by -the dark. From each to each at the hour of -dusk passes the unconscious Godspeed uniting -all who are drawing together towards the -adventure of the night.</p> -<p class="pnext">And, for Simon and Sarah, as for all, either -man or beast, even in this bitter hour, there -was the comfort of the road that goes home. -There is always a lamp set high in the house to -which one returns, even though it be poor and -empty and dark. The greatest sorrow awaiting -one at the end is not really a sorrow until one -steps inside. The ease of the road home is the -ineffable ease of the mind. Stout hearts and -limbs may carry us out, and barely suffice to -stagger us back, but the running and leaping -mind can comfort the body on. There is always -a lamp set high at the end of the road that is -going home....</p> -<p class="pnext">Not until they had lost it would they realise -the perpetual consolation of that long-accustomed -road. Times without number they had -travelled it, seething with anger and hate, and -yet always they were the richer for having -passed that way. Simon, busily thinking of -Blindbeck and all the advantages of the wealthy -farm, did not know that he was putting his real -wealth from him with every thought. Yet he -would know it all the rest of his life when he -drove a road that was not consecrated by the -years, when the folk that hailed them in passing -were not part of a lifelong chain; when the -turns of the road were no longer pictures and -books, with each house where it should be and -would be for all time; when he stopped at a -gate in the dusk and knew it was not his; when -he entered a meaningless building at last and -knew it was not home....</p> -<p class="pnext">But just for the moment he was thinking -neither of the immediate present nor of the -greater part of his long-reaching past. His -mind, unusually stimulated by the day's events, -swung easily to and fro between the future at -Blindbeck and the far-off boyhood which he had -spent with Will. Blindbeck had never been his -home in any sense, but his call to Blindbeck was -nevertheless the call of the past. They would -renew their youth for each other, the two old -men, and forget when they were together that -they were old. They turned instinctively to -each other, as all turn to those who can recreate -for them the young beginnings of their lives. -On the marsh Simon always felt immeasurably -old, weighted as with an actual burden by the -years. He saw himself looking behind him at -them as at monsters created in his pride, which -now and for ever were out of his control. With -Will beside him, they would lie in front as they -used to do, rolling meadowlands still untouched -by the plough of time. Because they had been -young together it would be impossible for them -to be really old. Because they had been young -together they could took smiling, shoulder to -shoulder, into the unbelievable grave.</p> -<p class="pnext">Not that his longing had any such definite -frame of thought as this, though he was aware -that in it had lain the motive which had fixed -his mind. He only moved towards its fulfilment -as all untutored souls move naturally towards -release from strain. He scarcely remembered -Sarah after their talk had come to an end that -was hardly an end, like an unravelled cord of -which no one troubles to count the untwisted -strands. That mighty leap which he was -taking across the years carried him well above -both Sarah's and Geordie's heads. The school-years, -the climbing, running, hungry years were -more distinct to him than the heavy, responsible -years of marriage and middle life. He saw -himself and Will running after the hounds, -paddling in calm lakes of gold-shot evening tides, -skating by slowly rising moons. He saw a raw -lad going shyly but stolidly to his first place, -already a man in the awed estimation of the -brother left behind. He heard the clink of the -first money he had ever earned, which had gone -straight from his pocket into the family purse. -He had handed it over without a twinge of -regret, and his empty hands had continued to -thrill with pride. Later, he had begged a couple -of shillings for himself and Will, and had never -thought of the money then or since but as a -gift....</p> -<p class="pnext">They came at last to the dangerous, -right-angled turn which dropped them down to the -marsh, and as the horse began to jerk itself -down the hill a car passed slowly above them -along the open road. Although the day still -lingered, the tail-light was already lit, as if the -car were setting out on a journey instead of -going home. Yet it went slowly and almost -reluctantly, like a man who looks over his -shoulder all the while. It was as if it was only -waiting its opportunity to turn itself in its -tracks. But all the time it was drifting gradually -away, and the red light, that could hardly as -yet impress itself on the dusk, seemed to hesitate -for a moment at a curve of the road, and then, -as if a hand had been clapped in front of it, was -suddenly gone.</p> -<p class="pnext">The drop from the highway was like being -dropped from a cliff, so distinct was the change -to the loneliness of the marsh. The link was -broken which made them members of a purposed -line, leaving them mere strayed wanderers -of whom nobody was aware. The few farmhouses, -lifeless-looking in the deadened light, -stared always towards great distances over their -puny heads. The few trees sprang up before -them, suddenly strange, acquiring an almost -violent personality against the meaningless scene.</p> -<p class="pnext">The straight miles dragged reluctantly past -their heavy wheels, and on the unending road -they seemed to go forward without purpose and -to be set on a journey that had no goal. When -at length the stretches of meadow and cropped -land gave place to the pale-coloured desert of -the sand, there seemed no possible reason why -one should cease and the other begin. Away -out behind the mist there was a living, moving -tide, but here on the marsh there was no -consciousness of tide. Things just stopped, -that was all, and from the garden became the -waste, just as the growth and renewal of life -had stopped for the old pair, leaving nothing -but desolation before their feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet still the earth was with them, and Simon -turned his eyes again and again to its vague -outlines with relief. Across the bay the cone -of the Knott still held to its tangibility and -form, protesting against the swamping hand -of night. The crown of it, fitted with wood as -closely as with a cap, was darker against the -sky than the shadowy slopes on which the -houses climbed. And, nearer inland still, on the -low edge of shore that was like a trail of smoke -on the farther side of the sands, a blur of -formless yet purposeful grey showed where the tiny -hamlet of Sandyeat clustered about the 'Ship.'</p> -<p class="pnext">Sandholes was in sight now, and the horse -quickened its pace, triumphing over the last -few wearisome yards. As they approached the -house, with its white face set on a body of -looming buildings behind, they had as always a -mingled sensation of sadness and relief. Not -that the place was sad to them because of its -dreary emptiness set amongst formless fields. -In the course of years it had become for them -merely an atmosphere, not a thing of sight. -They were only depressed by it because for -them it was the heart of failure and loss. And -in the same way they were relieved by it, -dignified, sanctuaried and consoled, because -this was their hiding-place against the world, -and here the heart of their few memories of joy.</p> -<p class="pnext">The house was dark, but they were accustomed -to that, used to the door that would not -open, however they knocked, and the windows -that for ever would never frame a face, -however they hailed. They were used to that -stumbling into the place in the folding dark, to -the striking of a match that brought them -nothing but the dreary waiting rigidity of the -things they had left behind. They were used, -too, to an uprising fear on the struck light that -some terrible change might have taken place -in the empty house; that even the waiting -things might have played them false while they -were gone....</p> -<p class="pnext">So lonely looked the place, that it seemed as -if it might even revenge itself upon those who -had the temerity to awaken it during that -sinking hour, but, as they reached the gate, -the old dog asleep in a loose box aroused -himself to a hoarse, recognising bark. The few -cows, also, waiting to be fed, sent out deep -complaints at the sound of the coming wheels. -And as they finally rattled into the uneven yard, -a woman's figure stood up and waved to them -from the sea-wall.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="may">PART III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">MAY</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The afternoon which had seen Sarah's -short-lived splendour had been sweet -also for May. Sweeter, indeed, since for her -there was no clashing of fierce passions to jar -the tender witchery of her mood. And though -the glamour was of the past,--a sheet of gold -as of sunlight far at the back of her mind; a -sea of gold from which she moved ever inward -towards the darkness of the hills,--a tongue -of light had suddenly darted from it to stream -like a golden wind-blown ribbon over her -path. That light was the knowledge that in -her own hands lay the possibility of Geordie's -return.</p> -<p class="pnext">Youth came back to her with the thought, -and she sat straighter still in the trap, holding -her unused whip at a jaunty angle across the -elastic bar of the reins. The good horse swung -homewards in a generous stride; the bright -wheels of the dog-cart flashed through the dull -country like a whirled autumn leaf. The -passers-by found a special sweetness in her -ready smile, because it reflected the secret in -her heart. As they went on their way they said -what they always said,--that it was a marvel -she had not married long ago.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet the secret, fair as it was, had also the -folly of all great ventures, since, in laying her -hands upon the future, she risked the memory -that had coloured her whole life. To bring -Geordie home might mean nothing but -disappointment for herself, sordid disappointment -and shame for a mis-spent girlish dream. Things -would be different, at the very best; part of the -memory would have to go. But the chief people -to be considered were the old folks who had so -often been the footballs of fate. Nothing that -she might fear on her own account should stand -in the way of this sudden fulfilment for a -frustrated old man, this light to the eyes for an old -woman going blind. In any case May was the -sort that would tenderly handle the cracked -and mended pot right up to the moment of -dissolution at the well. No disappointment -that Geordie could bring her would remain -sordid for very long. Out of her shattered -idols her wisdom and humour would gather -her fresh beauty; clear-eyed, uplifting affection -for youthful worship, and pity and tenderness -for passion.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was true that Sarah had already rejected -her offer,--brutally, almost, in her determination -that May should suffer no further for her son. -But May had already almost forgotten the -rough sentences which for the time being had -slammed the opening door in her eager face. -Sarah was strong, she knew, but she herself, -because of love in the past and pity in the -present, felt stronger still. She said to herself, -smiling, that sooner or later she would find an -argument that would serve. Sooner or later -Sarah would yield, and share with secret delight -in the surprise that they would so gaily prepare -for the old man. Sooner or later the boat -would put out from port that carried the lost -lad,--Geordie, with his pockets empty but his -heart full, and every nerve of him reaching -towards his home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now she had turned the end of the bay, and -was running along the flat road that hugged the -curve of the shore. Below on her right were -the sands, almost within flick of her whip, -with the river-channel winding its dull length -a hundred yards away. Beyond it, the sand -narrowed into the arm of the marsh, until the -eye caught the soft etching of the Thornthwaite -farm, set on the faint gold and green of the -jutting land.</p> -<p class="pnext">The inn, low, white-faced, dark, with all the -light of it in the eyes that looked so far abroad, -was very quiet when she came to it about -three o'clock. The odd-job man was waiting -about to take her horse, and she paused to have -a word or two with him in the yard. Then she -went briskly into the silent place, and at once -the whole drowsy air of it stirred and became -alive. The spotlessness of the house seemed -to take on a sparkling quality from the swift -vitality of her presence. The very fire seemed -to burn brighter when she entered, and the -high lights on the steels and brasses to take a -finer gleam. Her father called to her from the -room where he lay upstairs, and her buoyant -tread, as she went up, seemed to strengthen even -his numb limbs and useless feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">She sat by his bed for some time, telling him -all the news, and conveying as much as she could -of the hiring and marketing stir combined. -This particular person had wished to know how -he was; the other had sent him a message to -be delivered word for word. One had a -grandmother who had died in similar case; another -a remedy that would recover him in a week. -Bits of gossip she had for him, sketches of old -friends; stories of old traits cropping up again -which made him chuckle and cap them from the -past. By the time she had finished he was -firmly linked again to life, and had forgotten -that deadly detachment which oppresses the -long-sick. Indeed, he almost forgot, as he -listened, that he had not been in Witham -himself, hearing the gossip with his own ears and -seeing the familiar faces with his own eyes. -For the time being he was again part of that -central country life, the touchstone by which -country-folk test reality and the truth of things, -and by contact with which their own identity -is intensified and preserved.</p> -<p class="pnext">But her eyes were turned continually to the -window as she chatted and laughed, dwelling -upon the misty picture even when they were -not followed by her mind. Only her brain -answered without fail when her gaze travelled -to the farm on the farther shore. Gradually the -picture shadowed and dimmed in line, but still -she sat by the bed and laughed with her lips -while her heart looked always abroad. Neither -she nor her father ever drew a blind in the little -inn. They had lived so long with that wide -prospect stretching into the house that they -would have stifled mentally between eyeless walls.</p> -<p class="pnext">She talked until he was tired, and then she -made his tea, and left him happy with the -papers which she had brought from Witham. -Her own tea she ate mechanically, with the -whole of her mind still fixed on the promise of -the day, and when she had finished she was -drawn to the window again before she knew. -The Thornthwaites would be home by now, she -concluded, looking out. Tired and discouraged, -they would be back again at the farm, feeling -none of the quivering hope which lifted and -thrilled her heart. Sarah would not even dwell -on the offer, having put it by for good, and -Simon did not as much as know that there had -been an offer at all. They would creep to bed -and sleep drearily, or wake drearily against -their will, while she would wake of her own -accord in order to clasp her purpose and find it -still alive. She could not bear the thought of the -long, blank night which would so soon be -wrapping them round; even a stubborn refusal -of her hope would be a better friend to them -than that. Stronger and stronger grew the -knowledge within her that she must see them -before they slept. It was for their sake, she told -herself, at first, thirsting to be across, and then, -as she clinched her decision, knew it was also -for her own.</p> -<p class="pnext">She went upstairs again to put on her coat -and hat, wondering as she did so what her -father would have to say. He would be sure to -enquire what took her across the sands so late, -yet he would wonder and fret if she left him -without a word. Geordie's name had dropped -into silence between them for many a year, and, -lately as she had spoken it to Sarah, it would -be hard to speak it now. She knew only too -well what her father would think of her offer -of hard-saved gold. He had always been bitter -against Geordie for her sake, and would want -no wastrel fetched overseas to play on her -pity again. She stole half-way down the stairs, -and then was vexed with herself and went up -again with a resolute tread. Once more she -hesitated, with her hand on the door-latch, and -then it slipped from her finger and she found -herself in the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fleming looked up from his paper with his -faded eyes. "Off again, lass?" he enquired, -noticing how she was dressed. "Is there a -pill-gill Milthrop way to-night?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She shook her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not as I know of.... Nay, I'm sure -there's not." She stood staring at him, uncertain -what to say, and then her eyes, as if of their -own accord, turned back towards the sands. -"I just felt like going out a bit again, that's all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Likely you're going up road for a crack wi' -Mrs. Bridge?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay ... I didn't think o' going there."</p> -<p class="pnext">"To t'station, happen?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nor that, neither...." There was a little -pause. "Just--out," she added, and the note -in her voice seemed to reach before her over the -sandy waste. Fleming heard it, and saw the -track of her gaze as well.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's up, lass?" he asked quietly, -letting his paper drop. "What d'you want to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She braced herself then, swinging round to -him with one of her cheerful laughs. "You'll -think I'm daft, I know," she said, looking down -at him with dancing eyes, "but I'm right set -on seeing Mrs. Thornthet again to-night. We'd -a deal to say to each other this morning, but we -didn't finish our talk. I thought I could slip -over sand and back before it was dark."</p> -<p class="pnext">Fleming looked perturbed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's over late for that, isn't it?" he asked. -"Light's going pretty fast an' all. Hadn't you -best bide till morning, and gang then?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't feel as I can. I'm set on going -to-night. I've often been across as late, you'll -think on. I'll take right good care."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What about tide?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not for a couple of hours yet, and I've not -that much to say. Boat's ready alongside -channel; it nobbut wants shoving off. I'll -be there and back before you can say knife."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, then, you'd best be off, and look -sharp about it!" Fleming conceded in a reluctant -tone. "I'll have t'lamp put in winder as -usual to set you back. Don't you get clattin' -now and forget to see if it's there."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll look out for it, don't you fret. Like as -not I'll never go inside the house. There's just -something I want to make sure of before I sleep."</p> -<p class="pnext">She nodded brightly and began to move away, -but he called her back before she reached the -door. With the quickness of those who lie long -in a sick room, he had noticed the change in her -atmosphere at once. Restlessness and -impatience were strange things to find in May, and -there was a touch of excitement in her manner -as well. He looked at her thoughtfully as she -retraced her steps.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is there any news o' that wastrel lad o' -theirs? Happen he's thinking o' coming back?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The words spoken from another's mouth -brought a rush of certainty to her longing mind. -She answered him confidently, as if she held the -actual proof.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's it, father! That's right." She -laughed on a buoyant, happy note. "Our -Geordie's coming home!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-night?" Fleming's mouth opened. -"D'ye mean he's coming to-night?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know about that!" She -laughed again. "But it'll be before so long. -I feel as sure about it as if he was knocking at -Sandholes door!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've no call to be glad of it, as I can see," -Fleming said, with a touch of fretfulness in his -tone. "Are you thinking o' wedding him after -all this time?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Her head drooped a little.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm past thinking o' that, and he'll have -been past it long ago. I'm just glad for the old -folks' sake, that's all. It's like as if it was -somebody dead that was coming back, so that -I needn't believe in death and suchlike any -more. It's like as if it's myself as is coming -back,--as if I should open door and see the -lass I used to be outside."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd be glad to see you settled afore I went, -but not wi' an idle do-nowt as'd spoil your life. -It'll be queer to me if Geordie Thornthet's -made much out. He was a wastrel, right enough, -for all his wheedlin' ways."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm past thinking o' marriage," she said -again. "It's just what it means to the old folks, -poor old souls!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay. They've had a mighty poor time, they -have that." He sighed, thinking of many a -tale of woe unfolded by Simon beside his bed. -Then he looked up at her with a whimsical -smile. "They'd nobbut the one bairn, same as -your mother and me, and there's been whiles -I've been real mad because you weren't a lad. -Ay, well, I've lived to see the folly o' my ways, -and to thank God I'd nobbut a lass! You're -worth a dozen Geordie Thornthets any day o' -the week...."</p> -<p class="pnext">She was gone with an answering smile directly -he finished his speech, and the sound of her feet -was light and swift on the stair. Hearing her, -he, too, seemed to see her a girl again, gone -to meet Geordie Thornthwaite along the shore. -But instead of reviving and cheering him, it -made him sad. He was too near the end to -wish himself back at the start. He glanced at -the lamp on the table to make sure that it was -filled, and settled himself back to his papers -with a sigh.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">May stopped to speak to the hired girl as -she went out, and was alarmed by the -creeping dusk already in the inn. She breathed -again when she was in the road, and saw the -dull light holding yet on either hand. The soft -closing of the door behind her back gave her a -long-forgotten thrill, bringing back similar -autumn evening hours, when she had gone to -meet a lover from over the sands.</p> -<p class="pnext">She got down to the shore about the time -that the scene at Blindbeck was drawing to an -end. She hurried, not only because she had -little or no time to waste, but because she could -not have gone slowly if she had tried. The -young May had never gone slowly, who was all -kindness and knew nothing of pride. She ran -down the shingle and across the sand, only -pausing to draw breath and to reprove herself -at the channel's edge. Passers-by on the flat -road stopped to stare at her as she sped across, -wondering what she could be doing at that hour. -Pausing, she looked across at the farm before she -bent to the boat, chiding herself for her almost -childish haste. But her tongue ached to let -loose the words of persuasion that she carried -with her, and her heart ached for the word of -permission that she was sure she would carry -back. She did not doubt for a moment that -Sarah would give way, so strong was her inward -belief that Geordie was coming home.</p> -<p class="pnext">At last she pushed off, stepped in and punted -herself across, and once out again on dry ground -tried to hold herself to a walk. The sand, -ribbed and hard beneath her feet, spoke to the -fact that the tide had been gone for hours. It -was extraordinary how forgotten the sands -always seemed as soon as the tide had gone -away. Only those who had proved it by -daily experience could believe that the water -would ever return. Even to them it remained -something of the miracle that it was in truth, -arousing continually a thrill of awed surprise. -Yet, side by side with that impression of final -retreat, of waste that had always been waste -and would never be reclaimed, was one of a -brooding terror that was only waiting its hour. -The sea and the sands were like cat and mouse, -May thought,--the one, aloof, indifferent, yet -always poised to leap; the other, inert, paralysed -though apparently free, and always the certain -victim in the end.</p> -<p class="pnext">She looked behind and before from the quiet -home which she had left to the still more lonely -and quiet house which was her goal. There was -a point about half-way across at which it seemed -as if she would never reach the one, never get -back to the other in all time. Both seemed -to recede from her equally as she moved, vague -shapes formed only of imagination and the -mist. Just for a moment that vagueness of -things which she knew to be concrete caught -her by the throat. The little that she could see -of the earth was so cloudlike, so lacking in -sturdy strength. The very shore of the marsh -looked as though a breath might dissolve it in -thin air. Though the distance across was little -more than a mile, the feeling of space around -her was infinite as the sky. The sands seemed -suddenly to become a treadmill under her feet, -turning and turning, but never bringing her to -the horizon which she sought. The whole -doorway of the bay was blocked by the great -wall of mist, and over the Lake mountains -there was a smother of mist, and mist over all -the land that went east to the Pennine range. -She began to fear even the crinkled sand which -felt so firm, as if it might suddenly sway and -shift like one of the many traps with which the -bay was sown. Behind her, the grey, -faint-gleaming strip of the channel seemed to cut her -off from her safe home. A slice of the bank -broke suddenly with an echoing spash, chilling -her with the lonely terror of water that has a -victim in its hold. The boat, helpless-looking, -inert, a mere black speck on the channel edge, -seemed the only insoluble thing beside herself. -She longed for the comfort of her feet on the -tarred boards, for the reassurance of her hands -against the sculls. It was a moment or two -before she had the courage to let it go, and face -a world that was full of bodiless shapes and -evanescent shores.</p> -<p class="pnext">But almost before she knew it she was on the -opposite side, scrambling up the stones to the -grassy slope beyond, and so, panting and hurrying, -to the top of the sea-wall. She saw at once that -there was nobody in the house, that it was still -with the growing stillness of augmented hours, -and a further chill fell on her happy mood. -Yet she was glad at least to be there to welcome -the old folks when they came, and in any case -they could not be very far. Every jolt of the -trap must be bringing them nearer to the net -which she was spreading so lovingly for their -feet. They would be tired, of course, and -probably very cross, but May was used to -market-day moods and would not care. With -affectionate ruthlessness she told herself that -would yield to her all the sooner for being -tired. Presently they would agree unwillingly -that she might have her way, and then she -would hurry home again as if on wings. They -would be crosser than ever after she had gone, -vexed both with her and themselves and -terribly touched in their pride. And then, -slowly but surely, the hope that she had forced -upon them would begin to race its stimulant -through their veins. They would lie down -to sleep with a secret gladness that they had -not the courage to confess, and would wake -in the morning and know that the world had -been made for them anew.</p> -<p class="pnext">She kept stopping the rush of her thoughts to -send her senses over the marsh, but no sign -of life came back to her, or sound of wheel or -hoof. The wide stretches of grass and plough -and the long length of road seemed almost as -unsuggestive of human influence as the sands -themselves. Swifter and swifter faded the -passionate confidence which had sent her out, -leaving the risks of the matter uppermost in -her mind. She remembered that it was possible -to be patient all one's life, and yet to wreck the -fruits of it in an unguarded hour. This sudden -mental and physical rashness might be -symbolical of a greater rashness of the soul. -Perhaps after to-night all her footholds and -anchorages might go, leaving the world that she had -managed so bravely only a nightmare blurred -by tears.</p> -<p class="pnext">The dusk thickened about her as the night -tried to impress itself on the earth as a separate -entity from the mist. The most that it could -do, however, was to produce the effect of a -hovering shadow from some huge arrested wing. -The real warning of night was in the deepened -sense of loneliness and dread of personal diminution -in a growing space, in the further recession -of things unseen as well as seen. It lay, too, in -the stirring consciousness of the impending -advent of the tide. She began to look anxiously -towards her father's window for the lamp, and -though she was comforted when she saw no -sign, it stamped the illusion of desolation on her -mind. Then she heard the cattle stir in the -shippon as she walked along the wall, and was -cheered and companioned by them for a little -while. She would have gone down to them, -or to the dog, who was always a firm friend, -but she was afraid of losing her consciousness -of time. She could not tear herself, either, from -her breathless waiting for the silence to fill with -life. She was cold whether she stood or walked, -and more and more oppressed by a sense of -folly and grave doubt. She even laughed at the -middle-aged woman who had thrilled like a girl, -but she laughed between her tears. Once or -twice she ran down the bank and on to the -sand, but always something drew her back, -and at last, when she had listened so long that -she had ceased to hear, there came the crunching -sound of the Thornthwaite wheels. It was there -suddenly where there had been no sign, as if -it had only begun at the moment it reached her -ear. At once her courage sprang up again, and -her spirits rose. The whole affair was sweet and -brave once more. It was as if she had heard her -lover himself coming surely towards her over -the lonely marsh....</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Simon uttered an exclamation when he saw -the figure on the wall. His heart leaped -first with a supernatural fear, and then with -a sudden foreboding of some normal ill. His -nerves were still unstrung from his experience -with the car, and ready enough to shape familiar -objects into ghosts. Even when he had -recognised May and spoken her name, he could not -rid himself of his feeling of alarm.</p> -<p class="pnext">So he was not pleased to see her when she -came running down, and Sarah, who had spent -so kindly a morning with her, was not pleased -either. In the last few miles she had seemed -to travel out of human touch, and there was a -jar in the sudden intrusion of even this one -thing left to her to love. Her brow contracted -both with the effort of thought and the effort -of sight, but indeed she knew well enough why -May was there. Her intuition had worked -uncertainly all the day, but it warned her now. -She knew what impulse had brought May out -to await their coming home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon, however, had no clue to this sudden -appearance at his journey's end. He sat still -in the trap as she came swiftly through the -yard, and then leaned out to address her with -an anxious frown.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, now whatever's brought you trapesin' -here so late? Nowt wrong, is there? Father -badly again? Is he axin' for me, by any chance?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She reassured him with a shake of the head -and a smile, and, as in the case of Mr. Dent, he -felt a sudden resentment towards smiles. In -all his life Simon had never encountered so many -smiling faces as had looked at him that day.</p> -<p class="pnext">"All's right, thank you.... Father's much -about the same. I wanted a word with -Mrs. Thornthet, that was all.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've been a terble while on the road, -though!" she added gaily, before he could -speak. "I'd about made up my mind as I'd -have to be getting back."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We were kept at Blindbeck, that's how it -was," Simon said, remembering suddenly and -with gloom the precise circumstances under -which they had been kept. "But if you nobbut -wanted a word wi' the missis, you could surely -ha' waited while morn. It's a daft-like trick -to be lakin' on t'sands when it's getting dark."</p> -<p class="pnext">His words made her turn again to throw a -glance at the inn, but still there was no -summoning gleam from the room upstairs. "Ay, -but tide isn't till six," she answered him -coaxingly, turning back, "and I shan't be long. -Father'll show a light for me when it's time I -was setting off."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah, ignoring the pair of them, had already -clambered out, and Simon remembered that he -had the horse to stable and the cows to milk -and feed. "Danged foolishness, that's what it -is!" he growled, as he scrambled down, giving -May a very unaccustomed scowl. "If I did -as I ought, I'd be skifting you pretty sharp. -Say what you've gitten to say, and then clear out!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah had been moving away from them -towards the house, but, as May followed her, she -swung about. There was no invitation, -however, in her rigid face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've nowt to say as I know on," she said -in a curt tone, "and I'm rarely tired. Anyway, -there's no sense in lossing yourself for a bit of -a chat."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll not lose myself, not I!" May laughed, -advancing towards her, full of kindly warmth. -She had been prepared for some such reception -as this, and was not depressed. "What, I've -been across that often, it's the same to me as -the road! I've been over when it was snowing,--ay, -and by moonlight, too. As for Geordie," she -added, with a tender laugh, "he's crossed in the -pitch dark, with only his nose to tell him where -he was at!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was bound to ask you again before I slept," -she urged, casting a glance at Simon, busy with -the horse. "Can't I come in a minute?--I -won't be long. It's late to be telling my business -in the yard."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've no business wi' me," Sarah said -stolidly, "so you can stop off yon weam voice. -You're not coming into Sandholes to-night, -May Fleming, so that's flat!"</p> -<p class="pnext">May laughed again, but there was less confidence -in the laugh. She waited to speak again -until Simon had moved away, the dog leaping -and barking under the horse's nose.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a shame," she said cheerfully, "to -bother you so late, but I just couldn't bring -myself to wait. It was you as brought it all -back, Mrs. Thornthet, come to that, with yon -talk at the doctor's of Geordie coming home!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's no talk of him coming," Sarah said -coldly, "and never was." With one magnificent -sweep she disposed of the fallacy of the -afternoon. "You ought to ha' more sense than to -go fancying things like that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you'd a letter, you said, begging his -fare?" May was slightly bewildered, but -went pressing on. "You said he was keen to -come, if he had the brass."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, and there wasn't no brass; so yon's -finished and by wi'," Sarah said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but there is," May pleaded. "Plenty -o' brass!" She faltered a little before the -other's lack of response. "Nay, Mrs. Thornthet, -don't you look like that! What does it -matter where it comes from if it makes folks glad?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll buy no gladness o' mine from you, my -lass, as I said before."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can spare the brass right enough,--if it's -only that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but I can't spare the pride to take it," -Sarah said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, well, then, think as you're buying my -happiness!" May begged. "I'd be real proud -to think as I'd brought him back, even if he -never looked aside at me again."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd have lile or nowt to be proud on, I'll -be bound!" There was a touch of weary -impatience in Sarah's voice. "And what-like -happiness would it be for you in the end? Nay, -May, my girl, we've thrashed the matter out, -and I'm over-tired to be fret wi' it to-night."</p> -<p class="pnext">May sighed, and stood looking at her with -troubled eyes, but she was unable to let the -whole of her hope go.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm right sorry to have put you about," -she said sadly. "It's a real shame! Can't you -promise to think it over a bit? I'll come over -to-morrow for another talk."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want neither talking nor thinking, so that's -flat!" Sarah snapped. "I'll promise to turn -key in the door when I see you coming, and -that's all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The tears came into May's eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've no call to go telling me off like that," -she said, with a little break in her voice. "I -haven't done anything that's wrong, I'm sure."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've shoved your nose into other folks' -business," Sarah said roughly,--"that's what -you've done! I'll thank you to leave us to do -for our lad as'll suit us best!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He was mine, too!" May flung at her -suddenly, roused at last. "Long ago, -maybe,--years on years,--but he was mine as well!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah gave a sneering laugh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There'll be more than one lass, I reckon, -setting up to think that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">May uttered a little cry, wounded to the heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, but you're a cruel woman, Mrs. Thornthet!" -she exclaimed, in a voice quivering -with pain. "It's true I'd be glad to see Geordie -again, but it don't make that much difference -now. It's for your sake and poor Mr. Thornthet's -that I want to see him back....</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're fond o' me, nowadays," she went -on bravely, controlling herself again. "You -like me well enough now, whatever you felt once. -Can't you take the money for the sake of bygone -times?"</p> -<p class="pnext">But already Sarah had turned away from her -and was moving towards the door. She fitted -the key in the lock with the ease of use, and -gave the rickety door an opening push. And -again May followed and stood, strong in the -courage of those who plead for the thing that -they have at heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't go away feeling mad with me, -Mrs. Thornthet!" she begged. "I'm sorry I spoke -as I did. Think on how happy we were together, -this morning, you and me. Think how it would -be if he was to come marching into the yard...."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah was now over the threshold, with her -hand against the door, but May's hand was also -against it, refusing to let it close. Her face was -white as a flower upon the dusky air, pleading -and sweet with frank lips and tearful eyes. -Sarah herself was engulfed by the dark house, -a shadow that was yet more surely a block than -the actual door. It seemed to May that she had -all the passionless resistance of some ancient, -immovable stone. A lantern across showed the -black squares of the shippon stalls, the white -coats of the beasts and Simon moving from -dark to light. May did not know that the old -woman's purpose was giving in the pause, that -that last sentence of hers had broken the -stubborn will. She waited despairingly, seeking for -more to say, and finding nothing, since the right -word had been said. And because she despaired -she broke the pause too soon, in an access of -hopelessness flinging away her chance. Taking -her hand from the door, she pointed to Simon -at his job.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll ask Mr. Thornthet, then!" she cried -sharply, beginning to move away. "Happen -he'll see to it for me instead of you. Happen -he'll see the offer's kindly meant, and not let -pride and suchlike stand between!"</p> -<p class="pnext">But Sarah, too, cried out before she had gone -a yard, her voice harsh with wrath and a sort -of fear.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You leave Simon be," she cried fiercely,--"let -him be! I've had enough o' your worry, -without plaguin' him an' all. You get back -to your dad, and don't come interfering again. -You came between me and my lad, but you -shan't meddle wi' my man! You mean well -enough, I don't doubt, but you're nobbut a -meddler, all the same. It never does to go -shoving kindnesses at folk who keep on saying -nay. If you force 'em, you do 'em more harm -than good in the long run, by a deal. D'you -think I want Geordie coming back in rags, as -like a tramp on t'roads as a couple o' peas? -D'you think I want a drunken do-nowt loafing -about t'spot,--a thief, maybe, or happen -summat worse? What sort o' food and drink would -yon be to Blindbeck, d'you think? Eliza's -gitten enough on her tongue, without the likes -o' that! Nay, the lad as went was a limb, -but he was bonny and smart, and Eliza'll always -think of him like yon. She'll always think -in her heart as he was the better o' Jim, for -all she talks so loud. But if he come back to -shame us, it'd rob me even o' that. I couldn't -abide it!" she finished vehemently. "It'd -be worse than death. I'd rather the sea took -him afore ever he reached home!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She stopped with an indrawn breath, and the -door, creaking abruptly, showed that her -weight was heavy on the latch. May stood still -in the yard, as still as the shadow that had -once again turned to ancient stone. The silence -that had fallen between them seemed to push -her away, to drive them so far apart that never -again would they be able to speak. At last, -in that terrible outpouring, May had -discovered the real barrier to her desire. There -were pride and generosity in the way, but there -was also something which she could not fight. -The monstrous, lifelong obsession of Eliza had -slopped even the natural road to a mother's heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fear came over her, a more terrible fear than -had taken her on the sands. In the quiet spot -that should have been homely because of the -moving light and the dumb beasts, she had a -hint of something not quite sane. Things that -had no place in the life of the soil seemed -suddenly to have forced a passage in. She -peered into the darkness of Sarah's mind, as her -bodily eyes sought for her hidden face.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was startled into action again by the old -dog's nose thrust kindly into her hand. He had -listened to the urgent voices with constantly -pricked ears, knowing by instinct that -somebody suffered and was afraid. Now he came -to May, begging her to take charge of her soul, -lest he, too, whose only trust was in Man, -should suffer fear. She laid her hand for a -moment on the warmth of his head, dropping -her gaze to meet his upturned eyes. Instantly, -however, as if he had brought her a further -message, she looked towards the bay, and saw -the lamp in her father's window spring to life.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was loth to go with this wreck of things -at her feet, but in her destitution of heart she -was afraid to stay. Armed with the promise, -she would have cared nothing for dark or tide, -but with this weight at her heart it seemed as -if it would take her all the night to cross the -sand. She tried to believe that she would -return to wrestle with Sarah in the day, but she -knew well enough that she would never return. -Eliza, and all that Eliza had meant in their -spoiled lives, lay like a poisonous snake across -her path.</p> -<p class="pnext">She wondered drearily what had become of -the passionate certainty with which she had -set out. The sea still sundered her lover and -herself, the bar of the sea so much greater than -any possible stretch of land. There were people -to whom the sea was a sort of curse, and -perhaps, without knowing it, she was one of those. -She loved it, indeed, but she never forgot that -it had taken her first hope. Perhaps it mocked -at her love as Sarah had mocked her love. -Perhaps it was only waiting out in the dark to do -her harm....</p> -<p class="pnext">She made one last entreating movement -towards the shadow that was stone, but nobody -moved in the darkness and nobody spoke. She -could not be sure at that moment whether -Sarah was there, or whether all that she begged -of was merely blackened space. Then she began -by degrees to move away, wrenching her feet, -as it were, from the ground of the yard. Sadly, -without looking back, she mounted the -sea-wall, bowed by her burden of failure and sorrow -and self-contempt. But the fear took her again -as soon as she faced the sands, and she hurried -down the further side. The good angel of the -Thornthwaites fled away into the night as if -driven by flails.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="geordie-an-jim">PART IV</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">GEORDIE-AN'-JIM</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The blackness stirred in the doorway and -became human again, setting the door -to the jamb with a firm, decisive push. Sarah -followed the dark stone passage to the kitchen, -moving with freedom on the ground she knew. -In the bare, silent room, that seemed at the same -time barer and yet more peopled because of the -dusk, she took off her old mantle, her shabby -bonnet and her black thread gloves. She set a -lighted candle on the table in the middle of the -room, and from the cupboard by the hearth she -took paper and wood, and kindled a pale, -unhomely glow in the dusty, ash-filled grate. In -the outer darkness that was the scullery she -filled the kettle, and brought it to wait the -reluctant patronage of the fire. It was not yet -night over the sands, but the candle was more -than sufficient to quench the fainting effort of -the day. The only outside light was the steady -glow of the lamp, set in the face of the inn to -call its daughter home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Still, however, the house seemed unaroused, -and would remain so until the master came in, -because those who live much by themselves do -not hear the sound of their own feet. They -seem to themselves to move like ghosts through -the rooms; it is only their thoughts that they -hear about the place. And there are no houses -so quiet as those which spend half their days -hearkening to that eternal talker, the sea. The -other half of their lives is still as the sands -are still, sharing that same impression of -quittance for all time.</p> -<p class="pnext">The kitchen, once perfectly kept, was already -beginning to show signs of Sarah's failing sight. -There were holes in the cloth rug which she -unrolled before the fire, and slits in the -patch-work cushions on the rush-bottomed chairs. -The pots in the half-empty pot-rail were all -askew, and the battered pewter and brass had -ceased to put in its claim to be silver and gold. -There was an out-of-date almanack under the -old clock, and an ancient tide-table over the -mantelshelf. But the real tragedy of the place -was not in its poverty but in its soul. Behind -the lack of material comfort there was a deeper -penury still,--the lack of hope and a forward -outlook and a reason for going on. The place -was cold because the hearts of its tenants were -growing cold.</p> -<p class="pnext">The candle, as always, drove the impression -of utter desolation home. No other light -produces that same effect of a helpless battle -against the dark. No other is so surely a symbol -of the defiant human soul, thinking it shines -on the vast mysteries of space. No other shows -so clearly the fear of the soul that yet calls its -fear by the name of courage and stands straight, -and in the midst of the sea of the dark cries to -all men to behold that courage and take heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">All about that little challenge of light were the -brooding obscurities of sand and marsh, and, -nearer yet, the looming enigma of the empty -house. At the back of the mind there was -always the consciousness of unlit rooms, of -echoing passages, and climbing, creaking stairs. -Always at night there is that mystery of terror -in a half-used house, pressing on those who -crouch in some charmed corner of its walls.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah was different, somehow, now that she -was at home, and free of the outdoor-clothes -which she had worn all day. It was as if bonnet -and mantle were the armour of her class, in -which she was ready to face the offensive of the -world. Without it she was more primitive and -more human, relaxed in muscles and nerves. -Now one could guess at the motherliness in her -to which Jim had clung, unswervingly trusting -in spite of her dislike. Her grey hair had been -slightly ruffled both by the bonnet and the -drive, and on her old neck it even curled a little, -showing itself still soft and fine.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was tired with that terrible tiredness -which sees the day behind like a series of -folding cardboard views. She seemed to have -lived many days in that single day, with never -a moment between them to fit her for the -next. More than once, indeed, she had been -ready to collapse, but always the stimulus -of some fresh event had set her going again. -Now she had reached the point when she was -too tired to allow herself to be tired, when body -and mind, usually careful to save the next day's -strength, recklessly lay both hands upon their all.</p> -<p class="pnext">Even at the last moment had come the sudden -struggle with May, and the zest of that strife -still tingled in her veins. After that long -day of damaged pride it was pleasant to have -asserted it in the end, to have claimed the right -to suffer rather than be forcibly blessed. All -day she had tasted in prospect the salt savour -of another's bread, but here was something that -she could refuse. She was still too stiff with -fight to care that she had wounded a generous -nature in the act. It was true that she could -not have borne the sight of a Geordie who would -have brought her fresh disgrace. The love that -cares for the broken more than the sound -could not thrive while she feared the sneer of -the idol to whom she would not bow.</p> -<p class="pnext">Beyond, in the dairy, there came the sound -of metalled boots, and the pails spoke musically -on the flags as Simon set them down. She -heard him shuffling across to open the inner -door, and then--"Milk's in, missis!" he -called to her, as his head came through.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a nervous sound in his voice, at -which Sarah almost smiled, knowing that his -conscience must be ill at ease. She answered -"Oh, ay," without turning, for she was busy -with the fire, which, as if hating the atmosphere -into which it was born, was doing its best to -escape from it again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll see to the fire for you, missis," he said, -crossing to her side. "Set you down and be -easy a bit. You're likely tired."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I'll manage all right," she protested -stolidly, and then suddenly yielded to him, -and moved away. She did not sit down, -however, but remained standing on the hearth, -while he went on his knees to set the bellows -between the bars.</p> -<p class="pnext">"May give me a fair start," he observed -presently, when the flame had consented to -grow. "What was she after, coming off like that?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, it was nowt much," Sarah said easily, -in an indifferent tone. "It was nobbut some -daftness she'd got in her head, that's all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"She mun ha' been rarely keen to come across -so late. Was it summat or other she wanted you -to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay," Sarah said firmly, "but I couldn't see -my way. I tellt her so this morning when I see -her in town."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Summat about your eyes, likely?" he -enquired nervously, blowing hard.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Losh save us, no! It was nowt to do wi' that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will was rarely put out when I tellt him -what doctor had said," Simon went on. "He -was right sorry, he was, and real anxious to do -what he could."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, he's kind, is Will. He's a right good -friend. But I won't take owt I can help from -him, all the same."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because o' yon woman of his?" Simon -asked angrily, stumbling to his feet. He threw -a last glance at the fire, and saw that it seemed -resigned to its now evident fate. He was sorry -for Sarah, and guiltily conscious of his own -relief, but the thought of Eliza whipped his -mind to rage. This was nothing new, though, -either to man or wife, after the usual meeting -at the end of the week. However long they had -held their tongues from her name, it was -suddenly out, and the air was vibrating at once -with the rising tremolo of their hate.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, what's yon besom to do wi' it, -any way round? Will's money's his own, I -reckon, and he can do as he likes. Happen -you'll choose to see sense about it come -Judgment Day, but not afore!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A farmer's wife addles half his brass,--we -all know that. You can't touch a man -wi'out laying a finger on his folks."</p> -<p class="pnext">"A deal Eliza's done for him," Simon scoffed, -"barrin' giving him best of her tongue! I'll -be bound you'd never think twice about t'brass -if you and Eliza was friends. It's this spite as -there is atween you as sets you taking things -amiss. Eliza would likely ha' been no worse -than most, if you hadn't made sure she was -always wanting a slap!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah received these remarks with an ironic smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bosom friends we'd ha' been, d'ye think," -she asked, "if I'd nobbut seen my way to a -bit more care?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, well, I wouldn't be sure about that," -he returned grandly, hedging with ease. "But -we'd all ha' done better, I'll take my oath, if -you hadn't been that smart to take offence."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happen I'd ha' done best to hold my tongue, -when she was telling all Witham we'd gitten -notice to quit?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I don't know about that!" ... He -was stamping about the floor. "A bit o' tact -wi' her, happen? ... nay, dang her, I don't -know! ... Leastways, you needn't ha' tellt -her yon rubbish this afternoon," he concluded, -brought to a stand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd have had me set by and say nowt -while she sneered at our lad?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I wouldn't,--dang her! ... I -wouldn't, that's flat!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd have had me say nowt, neither, yon -day we was wed,--give her a kiss, happen, and -praise her gown----?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, then, I wouldn't, I tell you! Blast -you! Nowt o' the sort!" Simon was fairly -shouting now. He thumped at the table in his -rage. "I wish to Gox I could ha' gitten my -hands round her throat wi'out having to swing!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah looked at his prancing shape with the -same ironic smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, my lad, there's better ways than that -wi' Eliza, by a deal. D'ye think I haven't -gitten a bit o' my own back, now and then? -I've had my knife in her deep,--ay, deep!--time -and again. There's better ways wi' Eliza -than just twisting her neck. What, this very -day I've made her weep tears as she's never -wept afore,--tears as near tears o' blood as -Eliza'll ever weep...." She stopped, recalling -the scene in which Nature had shone like a star -in Eliza just for once.... "Nay, Simon," she -went on quietly, "there's no sense in our -getting mad. It's over late to go preaching -love atween Eliza and me. Men don't know what -hate can be between women when it's gitten -hold. It's a thing best let alone,--never -mentioned,--let alone. It's a big thing, caged-like, -as was small once, and then comes full-grown. -It's over late to go trying to stroke it through -the bars."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I nobbut wanted to make the best o' -things," Simon muttered, ashamed. "The -Lord knows I'd give my hand to put you top-dog -of Eliza just for once. But I'm not denying -I'm terble thankful to ha' fixed things up. I -reckon I'll sleep to-night as I haven't for weeks. -I'm right sorry, though, if you're taking it hard."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll take it right enough when it's here," -Sarah said gently, turning away. "I won't -make no bother about it, don't you fret."</p> -<p class="pnext">She picked up the kettle and set it on the -fire, as if she meant to put an end to the talk. -Simon lingered, however, casting uneasy glances -at her face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've a job in t'far shuppon to see to," he -said at last, and lighted the old lantern that -swung against the wall.... "Yon's tide, -surely?" he added suddenly, as he took it -down.... "Nay, it's over soon."</p> -<p class="pnext">He lifted the lantern to look at the table -above the shelf, but Sarah shook her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yon's an old table, think on. It's no use -looking there. Tide's six o'clock, it you want -to know."</p> -<p class="pnext">He said, "Oh, ay. I'd clean forgot," and -still stood on the hearth, as if reluctant to go. -Presently he spoke humbly, twisting the lantern -in his hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's real hard on you, Sarah, to come down -like this. I don't know as I like it myself, but -it's worse for you. But we've been right kind -wi' each other all these years. You'll not think -shame on me when I'm a hired man?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She turned back to him, then, trying to see -his face, and it seemed to him that she really -saw him for the first time in many months. -But, in point of fact, it was the eyes of the -mind that were looking at the eyes of the -mind.... And then, unexpectedly, he saw her smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, my lad," she said strongly, "you -mun be wrong in t'garrets to think that! If -there's owt to think shame on it'll be stuff like -yon. You're the same lad to me as when we -was wed, just as Eliza's the same cruel, jibing -lass. I reckon that's where the trouble lies, if -it come to that. Love and hate don't change, -neither on 'em, all our lives. D'you think I'd -ha' kept my hate so warm if I hadn't ha' kept love?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He nodded doubtfully in reply, and began -slowly to edge away. But before he had reached -the threshold he paused again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Anyway, we've had the best on't!" he -cried triumphantly, as if inspired. "Eliza's -had what looks most, but we've had the real -things, you and me!" And then, as she did -not speak, the spirit died in him, and his head -drooped. "Ay, well, we mun do what we can," -he finished lamely. "We mun do what we can. -'Tisn't as if it'll be so long for either on us, -after all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Shall I see to t'milk for you?" he added -diffidently, but was refused.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," Sarah said. "I can manage right -well. I know they milk-pans better than my -face. I'd like to stick to my job as long as I can."</p> -<p class="pnext">Simon said--"Ay, well, then, I'll be off!" -and looked at the door; and stared at the -door, and said--"Ay, well, I'll be off!" again. -He had an uneasy feeling that he ought to stay, -but there was that job in the far shippon he -wanted to do. He wandered uncertainly towards -the outer door, and then, almost as if the -door had pushed him, stumbled into the yard.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Sarah stood thinking after Simon had -gone, following with ease the troubled -workings of his mind. The smile came back to -her lips as she recalled his obvious sense of guilt. -Behind all his anger and chafing humiliation it -was easy to see his growing pleasure and relief. -It was more than likely, indeed, that he would -be priding himself on his new position before -so long. Perhaps age, which has a merciful as -well as a cruel blindness of its own, might -prevent him from ever realising where he stood. -She could picture him lording it over the -gentler-natured Will, and even coming in time -to dominate the farm. It was only for her that -there would be no lording it,--and open sight. -It was only on her account that he was still -ashamed.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was cruel to grudge him the little solace -he had left, but the thing which eased the -position for him would form a double cross for -her. Hitherto, they had stood together in their -hatred of Blindbeck and its female head, and in -the very depth of their darkness still had each -other to soothe their shame. But now Simon's -attitude was bound to alter at least towards the -farm. There would come a day when he would -turn upon her for some chance remark, and from -that hour he would be openly on Blindbeck's -side. The new tie would make him forget those -bitter upheavals of jealous rage. Slowly the -place would come between them until she was -left to hate alone.</p> -<p class="pnext">For her, the change would simply deliver her, -blind and bound, into Eliza's hand. She could -have laughed as she saw how the thing she had -fought against all her life had captured her at -last. Even with Eliza dead or gone, Blindbeck -would still have stifled her as with unbreathable -air. Her spirit and Eliza's would have lived their -battles again, and even over a grave she would -have suffered and struggled afresh. But Eliza -was neither dead nor mercifully removed, but -was already snuffing the battle-smoke from afar. -The whole account of their lives would come up -in full, and be settled against the under-dog for -good. It was as whipping-boy to Eliza that -she would go to the house by Blindbeck gates.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the present moment, however, she neither -suffered nor rebelled. Physically, she had -reached the point at which the mind detaches -itself resolutely from further emotional strain. -The flame of hate burnt steadily but without -effort, and with almost as pure a light as the -flame of love itself. Like all great passions, it -lifted her out of herself, lending her for the time -being a still, majestic strength. There is little -to choose at the farthest point of all between the -exaltation of holiness and the pure ecstasy of -hate. To the outside eye they show the same -shining serenity, almost the same air of smiling -peace. It is the strangest quality in the strange -character of this peculiarly self-destroying sin. -Because of it she was able to go about her -evening tasks with ease, to speak gently to -Simon in the little scene which had just passed, -and even to dwell on his methods with a -humorous smile upon her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the clarified state of her mind pictures rose -sharply before her, covering all the years, yet -remaining aloof as pictures, and never stirring -her pulse. So clear they were that they might -have been splashed on the canvas that instant -with a new-filled brush. They sprang into being -as a group springs under the white circle of a -lamp, as the scenes the alive and lit brain makes -for itself on the dark curtain of the night. The -few journeys she had taken in life she travelled -over again,--rare visits to Lancashire and -Yorkshire ... Grasmere ... Brough Hill -Fair. They had stayed in her mind because of -the slow means by which they were achieved, -but they counted for very little in the tale -of things. It is not of these casual experiences -that the countryman thinks when the time comes -for a steady reviewing of his life, that intent, -fascinated returning upon tracks which is the -soul's preparation for the next great change. -They flit to and fro, indeed, like exotic birds -against a landscape with which they have -nothing to do, but it is the landscape itself -which holds the eye, and from which comes the -great, silent magic that is called memory, and -mostly means youth. It is the little events -of everyday life that obsess a man at the last, -the commonplace, circular come-and-go that -runs between the cradle and the grave. Not -public health problems, or new inventions, or -even the upheavals of great wars, but marriage, -birth and death, the coming of strangers destined -to be friends, the changing of tenants in houses -which mean so much more than they ever mean -themselves. Binding all is the rich thread of -the seasons, with its many-coloured strands; -and, backing all, the increasing knowledge of -Nature and her ways, that revolving wheel of -beauty growing ever more complex and yet -more clear, more splendid and yet more simple -as the pulses slow to a close.</p> -<p class="pnext">She loved the plain, beautiful farming life -that a man may take up in his hand because it -is all of a piece, and see the links of the chain -run even from end to end. Even now she could -see the fair-haired child she had been still -running about her home, the child that we all -of us leave behind in our sacred place. She -could hear the clatter of clogs in her father's -yard, and all about her the sound of voices -which the daisied earth had stopped. It was -strange, when she came to think of it, that she -never heard her own. In all her memories of -the child it seemed to her lip-locked, listening -and dumb. Perhaps it was because she was -shut in the child's brain that she could not hear -it speak. She could hear her mother's voice, -light and a little sharp, and her father's a deep -rumble in a beard. Even in the swift pictures -flashing by her he looked slow, drifting with -steady purpose from house to farm. Because -of his slowness he seemed to her more alive -than his wife; there was more time, somehow, -to look at him as he passed. Her bustling, -energetic mother had become little more than -a voice, while the seldom-speaking man was -a vital impression that remained.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rising up between the shadows that blotted -them out was a certain old woolly sheep-dog -and the red torch of the flowering currant -beside the door. There was also a nook in the -curve of the garden wall, where, under a young -moon, she had seen the cattle coming across -the fields, sunk to their horns in a fairy-silver -mist....</p> -<p class="pnext">It was an open-air life that took her long -miles to school, clogging on frozen roads, -through slanting rain or fighting against the -wind. School itself seemed patched in a rather -meaningless fashion on that life, much as the -books in the parlour on the busy, unthinking -house. A life of constant and steadily -increasing work, from errands of all sorts, feeding -the hens and fetching home the cows, to the -heavier labour of washing and baking, milking, -helping with the stock. Presently there had -been the excitement of the first shy dance, and -then the gradual drawing towards marriage as -the tide draws to the moon.</p> -<p class="pnext">And all the time there had been Eliza making -part of her life, from the plump little girl whom -people stopped to admire to the bold intruder -at the altar-rail. Looking back, she could see -herself as a stiff and grave-eyed child, grimly -regarding the round-faced giggler from the -start. Even then she had always been the -dumb man in the stocks, of whom the street-urchin -that was Eliza made mock as she danced -and played. Only once had she ever definitely -got the better of her, and it had had to last her -all her life. Eliza had had many lovers, drawn -by the counterfeit kindliness which hid her -callous soul, but when she had chosen at last, it -was Simon who was her choice. Perhaps the -one gleam of romance in Eliza's life had been -when she looked at Simon ... and Simon -had looked away. Quite early he had fixed his -affections on Sarah, and during their long -courtship he had never swerved. Plain, business-like -Sarah had drawn him after her as the moon -draws the willing tide....</p> -<p class="pnext">She began to put away the things she had -bought in Witham, stowing them in a cupboard -between the pot-rail and the door. During the -morning she had felt royally that she was buying -half the town, but now she saw how small her -share of the marketing had been. There was -a troubled feeling at the back of her mind that -something had been missed, and even though -she was sure of her purchases, she counted -them again. Afterwards, she stood muttering -worriedly through the list ... tea, candles, a -reel of cotton ... and the rest. And then, -suddenly, without any help from the candles -and cotton, she remembered what it was, and -smiled at the childish memory that would not -stay asleep.</p> -<p class="pnext">More than twenty years, she reminded -herself,--and yet she still looked for the fairing -that Geordie had brought her on Martinmas -Day! There had scarcely been any special -season,--Christmas, Whitsun, Easter or -Mid-Lent,--but he had remembered to mark it by -some frolicsome gift. He had always withheld -it from her until the last, and then had stood -by her laughing while she unwrapped some -foolish monkey on dancing wires. All the time -he was saying how splendid the fairing was -going to be,--"It's gold, mother, real gold,--as -bright as the King's crown!" And when -she had opened it, she would pretend to be cast -down, and then put it snugly away and say it -was "real grand!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Jim had had his fairings for her, too, but she -was trying her very hardest not to remember -those. Jim's had been prettier and more -thoughtful,--often of real use, but she had long -since forgotten what the things were like. A -mug with her name on it, a handkerchief, a -brooch,--long ago broken or lost, or even given -away. But every ridiculous object of Geordie's -was under lock and key, with even a bit of -camphor to keep the monkey from the moth....</p> -<p class="pnext">She stood there smiling, softly folding her -hands, as if she laid them lightly over some -sudden gift. On either side of her was a laughing -face, and even she found it hard to tell which -was which. She was very still as she made that -perfect transition into the past, and the only -sound in her ears was through the lips that -laughed. And then, into that full stillness, in -which no step moved or voice called or bird -flew, there came the cry of a heron outside the door.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It did not reach her at first. She heard it, -indeed, coming back to the present with the -sound, but that Was all. The thing behind it -had to travel after her over twenty years. The -cry of the heron was natural enough, with a -famous heronry so near, and it was only because -of the exceptional stillness of the night that it -drew her attention now. Her mind went -mechanically to the high wood behind the Hall, -to the long-necked, slender-legged birds going -home to the tall trees that on this unstirred -evening would be stiff as a witch's broom. She -even had time to remember the old legend of -their battle with the rooks, before the thing that -had been running for twenty years entered her -consciousness with a rush.</p> -<p class="pnext">She stiffened then. From being softly still -she became a rigid thing, stiller than sleep, -stiller than death, because it was passionate -will-power that held her still. It was already -a moment or two since the sound had passed, -but it still rang in the ear which had seemed to -refuse to take it in. It had flashed through her -brain like a bright sword flung in a high arc -through a night without a star, but the truth -that was behind it she held rigidly from her -even as it tried to step within. She knew that -it was too low for a bird's call, too sharp and -clear in that muffle of mist, but she shut the -knowledge out. She would not let herself either -breathe or think until she had heard the sound again.</p> -<p class="pnext">The shock was as great the second time, but -it had a different effect. She began to tremble -from head to foot; even her lips parted and -shook; her hands relaxed and began to pluck -at her gown. Her breath came in quick gasps -that were almost sobs as her eyes strained -towards the darkness that held the door. Her -brain kept telegraphing her body that it must -be still, but it was too strong for it, and paid no -heed. Her heart alone, beating in hard, ponderous -strokes, seemed as if by itself it must shut -out any further sound; and when the call came -the third time, breaking the silence so that it -could not close again, her own power of restraint -went by the board as well. Her hands lifted -themselves and gripped each other across her -breast, and her voice, shaken and full of tears, -forced itself into her throat. "Jim!" she -heard herself saying, "Jim!"--with no knowledge -that she had meant to speak, and in that -one word admitted the final defeat of all her life.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the knocking began, the terrible brazen -knocking which soulless iron makes on the -unresponsive door of an empty house. It was -as if whoever knocked frightened himself by -the knocking, and tried to beat away his fear -with still louder blows. But to the woman -who tried to pretend that the house was really -empty it was more terrible still. It seemed to -take on the sound of a summons to the soul itself -to issue forth. The noise of it flooded the place, -echoed its way upstairs and into far rooms, so -that strange voices answered it sharply from -wood and stone. The heavy, storm-tried walls -were suddenly no more than paper, so that the -knocking became folly when a push would have -forced them in. It seemed to Sarah that they -must hear it from end to end of the marsh, -across at the 'Ship,' and out to the hidden edge -of sea. She wondered why Simon did not come -running, and the dog break into hoarse barks, -for even in the far shippon they must surely -hear. But there was only that great knocking -in all the world, cheerful, impatient, or resigned -by turn. It paused at moments, but only as the -passing-bell pauses, Sarah thought, waiting to -speak its single word afresh.</p> -<p class="pnext">The noise had swept away in a moment both -the false serenity of hate and the almost falser -calm of that dwelling memory of love. From the -respite, indeed, the live passion seemed to have -sunk, as it were, on its haunches for a fiercer leap. -She could not think clearly or control her limbs -under the sudden impact of its spring. It -seemed to fling itself on her as she had seen the -tides in the winter crash against the wall. She, -too, went under as if the water had beaten her -down, and the noise at the door became the -blows of the waves and the roar of the dragged beach.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had that impulse to laughter which comes -with long-expected woe, as if the gods were -guilty of bathos when they stooped at last to -strike. Scorn is the first sensation of those who -seem to have watched the springs of action long -before the hour. Sudden sorrows, quick blows -have a majesty of their own, as if the gifts of the -gods made for honour in good or ill. But -long-deferred trouble, like suspended joy, has a -meaner quality in fulfilment, and a subtle -humiliation in its ache. That when the gods -come they come quickly is true for both libations -from the emptied cup. Royal sorrows, like -royal joys, fall swift as thunderbolts from heaven.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had always known in her heart that there -was no fighting Blindbeck luck, that even the -dregs of it were more potent than the best of -the Sandholes brand. It could hardly fail to -reach even across the sea, so that one of the -failures would be less of a failure than the other -in the end. The trouble of being the under-dog -too long is that even the dog himself begins -at last to think it his rightful place. For all her -dreaming and lying on Geordie's behalf, she -would have found it hard to believe in his -ultimate success. Not for nothing had Eliza -carefully tended her Method all this while, and -watered it weekly with the Simons' tears.</p> -<p class="pnext">At first she told herself that she would put -out the light, and let the knocker knock until -he was tired. Perhaps he would open the door -and step inside, but the darkness would surely -thrust him out again. He might even go to the -foot of the stairs and call, until the silence itself -put a hand upon his throat. But already the -strain was more than she could bear, and each -blow as it came was a blow on her own heart. -She tried to move, but was afraid of the sound -of her own feet, and it was only under the cover -of fresh knocking that she made the effort at -last. Now she was facing the door which she -could not see, though she knew its panels like -the palm of her hand. Behind it, she felt the -knocking ring on her brain, but now she had -come within range of a more persistent power -than that. Plainly, through the wooden barrier -that was raised between them, she felt the -presence of the man who stood without.</p> -<p class="pnext">There is always an effort, a faint dread, about -the opening of a door, as if the one who entered -were admitted to more than a room. From -each personality that enters even for a moment -into one's life something is always involuntarily -received. The opening is only a symbol of the -more subtle admission of the two, which leaves -an intruder behind when the actual bodily -presence has passed away. And of all openings -there is none that includes such realisation and -such risk as that which lets in the night and a -stranger's face.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then suddenly the knocking ceased, as if -the knocker was now as aware of her presence -as she of his. They were like enemies, crouched -on either side of a barricade; or like lovers, so -near and yet so far, in the last, long second -before the bars are down. Each waited for a -breath, a touch, a turn of the hand that would -bring the flash of the final blow or the thrill -of the first kiss.</p> -<p class="pnext">Their consciousness of each other was so -strong that she knew at once when he lifted his -arm again, just as he knew when she stirred in -fear of the fresh attack. The latch gave its -loose, metallic clink as she raised it and let it -drop, and then the door began to open with -the almost human grudging of old doors. The -stranger put out a hand to help it on its way, -and with a harsh shriek that sounded like -protest it dragged across the flags.</p> -<p class="pnext">At once the bulk of his big form was in the -open square, substantial even in the dissolving -light. There was a last pause as the shock of -the actual meeting smote upon their minds, and -then his voice, cheerful and loud as the -knocking, flooded the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Everybody dead here?" he demanded -gaily, bending forward to peer at the figure set -like a statue just inside. The tone of his voice, -deep and kindly, had yet a touch of nervousness -at its back. The strain of the waiting had told -upon him as well as on her. "Say, you <em class="italics">are</em> real, -ain't you?" he enquired sharply, and then -laughed. "Mercy! I sure thought everybody -must be dead!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah had another shock at the sound of his -voice, topped by the accent from over the pond -as the deep note of flood is topped by the -thinner note of the surf. She had listened -instinctively for the Jim-an'-Geordie voice, but -this was the voice of neither Geordie nor Jim. -It was as strange to her who knew nothing of -other peoples' speech as if it had been a voice -from another star. She shrank away from him, -saying--"I thought it was Jim." And then, -almost violently, "You're never Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The man laughed a second time, but more -naturally, as if reassured the moment he heard -her speak. "I sure am!" he answered her -joyfully. "Why shouldn't I be? Leastways, -I'm all of Jim Thornthet that's managed to -swim across!" The smile stayed on his lips -as he stared, but died when she did not respond. -"May I come in a spell?" he enquired -anxiously. "I've only struck England to-day, -and I've a bag of news."</p> -<p class="pnext">But again she blocked the entrance as she had -blocked it for May. It was the way into herself -as well as into the house that these people -sought, and she yielded to neither of them by an -inch. "You can get out, if you're Jim," she -said caustically, "and as smart as you like! -Blindbeck's your spot. We want nowt wi' you here."</p> -<p class="pnext">The sharp words did not depress him, however. -They were too reminiscent of old time.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's a real mean Howdy!" he answered -her humorously, advancing a foot. "'Tisn't -like Westmorland folk to keep folk tugging at -the latch.... Shucks for Blindbeck!" he -added laughingly, as she began the word again. -"Sandholes is my little old home,--always was, -and always will be." He advanced further, a -merry, teasing note in his big voice. "You -can't keep me out, old woman! You never -could. I'm coming right in, old woman! ... I'm -sure coming.... I'm right in!"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was true, too. He was in the passage now, -making his way by a force of desire stronger -than May's entreating love. Something else -helped him as well, perhaps,--some old extorted -freedom of house and board. He put out his -hand to Sarah as he turned to the light, but she -shrank away from him against the wall.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I won't have you in t'house!" she cried -angrily to his dim form. "Be off with you now, -and look sharp about it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">But again he seemed to be pleasantly cheered -by her wrath, as if with a happy echo from the -past.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll shin off right quick when I've had a -word," he coaxed. "Come on in, old woman, -and look at me where there's a bit more sun!" The -flickering light seemed to beckon him on, -for he began to move towards its dim dwelling. -"I've news of Geordie for you," he called back -to her, as she did not stir. "You'll sure be -wanting to hear that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She heard him pass into the kitchen, his firm, -confident tread raising a ring from every flag, -and wondered, as with the knocking, why it -did not carry all over the marsh. But still she -stayed behind, fighting with herself and with the -longing to hear his news. It could be of nothing -but failure, she reminded herself, and her -heart answered that that would be better than -nothing at all. She heard him walking about -the kitchen, as if he walked from this memory -to that, peering into old cupboards and laying -a hand upon old chairs. Presently, however, -there came a silence as if he had seen enough, -and, in a sudden panic lest he should be gone, -she hurried after him into the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">At once, as she went in, she traced the shape -of him on the hearth, though she could not see -his huge shadow that climbed the ceiling and -swamped the wall. Clearly, too, she could feel -his dominant personality all about, too heady a -wine for the frail, cob webbed bottle of the place. -Paused on the hearth, he was still looking -around him with a wistful, humorous smile. He -was thinking, as all think who return, how -strong and yet how slender was the chain, how -futile and yet how tenacious were the humble -things which had held him through the years! -He was thinking, too, how amazingly tiny -everything had grown,--the house, the kitchen, -and the old woman within the door. Even the -stretch of sand, which he could vaguely see, -seemed narrow to him who had known much -greater wastes.</p> -<p class="pnext">He turned his smiling eyes suddenly to Sarah's face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How's the old man, by the way? Still -keeping uppermost of the weeds?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's nobbut middlin', that's all," she forced -herself to reply.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is he anywhere about?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Like enough ... but you needn't wait."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd like a chin with him, all the same!" He -hugged himself as he stood on the hearth, and -his huge shadow hugged itself on the wall. The -same mischievous sound crept back into his -voice. "I'm mighty glad to see you again, -old woman, I am that! Perhaps you'll feel like -slinging me a smile or two after a bit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eliza'll smile, I'll warrant, if you've nobbut -a pound or two in your poke."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have that--sure!" He slapped his coat -as he spoke, laughing a great laugh which shook -her as cruelly as his knock. "It's up to me to -keep my pockets stitched, nowadays," he -finished, in a contented tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm main glad to hear it," she said sardonically, -and he nodded gaily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's real nice of you, old woman! You -can keep right on. You'd a terrible down on -me in the old days, hadn't you now?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've no use for you, Jim Thornthwaite, -and never had. You know that as well as me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's so!" He laughed again. "But I -was always mighty fond of <em class="italics">you</em>." He made -a movement as if to cross to her side, but she -backed instantly, as if she guessed. "Of -course, you'd a deal rather it had been -Geordie," he said. "I know that. But he was -never much of a sparkle in the family tarara, -and that's honest. I left him serving in a -store,--poor lad Geordie,--and hankering like honey -after the old spot!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you left him behind," Sarah flung at -him,--"you wi' brass?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He wouldn't take a red cent. I looked him -up as soon as I struck it rich, but he was -always set on hoeing his own row. He'd have -taken it from his own folks, but he wouldn't -from me. Guess it was Blindbeck hate in him -coming out at last! But if ever he'd had the -dollars, he'd have been home before you could -hear him shout."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's best where he is," Sarah said coldly, -repenting her charge. Eliza's son should not -see that she grudged or cared. "Them as -makes beds can likely lie on the straw."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Blindbeck luck still holds, anyway!" -Jim smiled. "See here!" He put his hand in -the great-coat that seemed to hide from her that -he was a creature of flesh and blood, and -instantly she heard the rustle of notes. He opened -the big pocket-book under the light, running his -hand over the clean slips with joyous pride. -"Don't that talk?" he said cheerfully. -"Doesn't it sure talk?" and in spite of her -resolve she shrank from the crisp, -unaccustomed sound.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good enough, eh?" he demanded warmly,--"and -there's plenty more behind! That's -only to pass the time o' day with, so to speak. -Guess it'll do for a fairing for my old mother, -that's about all." He snapped the elastic again -and flung the book on the table, so that it slid -across within Sarah's reach. Lifting his eyes -he met her gaze fixed blindly upon his face, -and his brow contracted as he puzzled over that -hard, unrecognising stare.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Can't we sit down for a spell?" he asked her -coaxingly, turning back to the hearth. "I feel -real unwanted, standing on my hind legs."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eliza'll be waiting on you," Sarah said, -through a stiff throat.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's waited twenty years." He laid a -hand on a chair, and pulled it nearer to the -warmth. It protested violently when it felt -his weight, but he settled himself snugly, and -did not care. The fire, as if heartened at sight -of him on the hearth, changed its cold yellow -for a crimson glow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's good to be home," he said happily,--"good -as a Sunday-school, treat,--sure!" He -pulled his pipe from his pocket, and began to fill -it meditatively, with quiet hands.... "Now, -if it had been Geordie that had struck it rich, it -would have been a real hum for you, wouldn't it, -old woman? Guess I feel real mean, for your -sake, that it's only me. Guess I could almost -wish it was Geordie out and out!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He leaned forward with the firelight on his -face, looking at her with the same smile that was -like a hand that he reached out.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He was always making a song," he said, -"about what he'd do when he struck it rich. -'I'll be off home that slick you'll hear the -bump,' he used to say, 'and I'll be planning -all the way how I'll burn the cash!' I'd like to -buy the farm for the old dad;--guess Squire'd -part all right if I could pass him enough. As -for the old woman, there's just no end to what -I'd do,--glad rags and brooches, and help all -round the house. It'd be just Heaven and -Witham Gala, playing Providence to the old -woman! ... That's what I want my brass for, -when I strike it rich!'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A fool's dream!" Sarah said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A fine fool's dream."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Them as dreams over much likely never does -nowt else."</p> -<p class="pnext">He leaned forward still further, the smile more -urgent on his lips. "There was only one thing -used to fret him," he went on, "and he spent -a powerful lot of time thinking about it, and -wearing himself thin. 'S'pose she don't know -me when I sail in?' he used to say. 'S'pose -I'm that changed I might as well be any other -mother's son as well as hers? There's a mighty -pile o' years between us,--big, terrible years! -I'd sure break my heart if she didn't know me -right off, even if I'd grown a face like a -pump-handle and a voice like a prize macaw! But -I guess I needn't trouble,' he used to say, -'because mothers always know. I've got that -slick by heart,--they always know.'" He -waited a moment, and then pressed on, with a -note that was like alarm. "Say, he was right, -wa'n't he?"--he asked anxiously,--"dead -right? It's a sure cinch that mothers always -know?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The force of his demand seemed almost to -shake the obstinate figure so cynically aloof. -It was as if he were prompting her to something -that she knew as well as he, but would not admit -for some reason of her own. Even after he had -stopped speaking the demand seemed to persist, -and she answered at last with a cold smile -on her hard face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, my lad," she said sneeringly, "you -needn't put yourself about! Eliza'll be fain to -see you, wherever you got your brass. She'll -know you well enough, never fret, wi' yon pack -o' cards in your hand!"</p> -<p class="pnext">His smile died as if she had struck him,--the -whole laughing pleasure of him died. "I -worked for it honest," he said in reply, but his -voice sounded dull and tired. Even in the dusk -she might have seen the spirit go out of him, the -lines in his face deepen, his head sink, his -shoulders droop. The merry boy that had come -into the house was gone, leaving the stern man -of middle age. Sarah could not see what she -had done to him, but she could feel the change. -Scenes with Jim in the old days had always -ended much as this. Many a time he had come -to her full of affection and fun, and in a few -moments she had slain them both. He had -looked up at her with hurt eyes that still laughed -because they couldn't do anything else, and had -held to his old cry--"I'm <em class="italics">your</em> lad <em class="italics">really</em>, Aunt -Sarah,--same as Geordie is!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He sat for a few minutes staring at the floor, -his pipe with its filled bowl hanging idly from -his hand. He seemed to be adjusting himself -to new ideas, painfully making room for them -by throwing overboard the old. Then he rose -to his feet with a half-sigh, half-yawn,--and -laughed. Sarah heard him, and started,--it -was so like the old-time Jim! But though she -might have winced in the old days, it did not -trouble her now. If she had had no tenderness -for the scapegrace lad she was not likely to pity -the grown, successful man.... Without -looking at her again he went across to the window -and stared out. The pane swung open wide on -its bent rod, and not a breath of wind troubled -its buckled frame. Across the vanished sands -the light still glowed from the 'Ship,' red on -the dark that seemed like a mere dissolution of -everything into mist.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Old Fleming still at the 'Ship'?" he -enquired, keeping his back turned. "And -May?" His voice warmed again on the little -name. "May's married this many a year, I guess!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, not she!" Sarah said. "She's not -wed, nor like to be." Unconsciously she -relaxed a little. "She was always terble sweet on -Geordie, was May."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man looking out smiled at the light as if -it had been a face. He spoke low, as if speaking -to himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd sure forgot!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I reckon she's waiting for him yet, but I -doubt she'll wait till the Judgment, and after -that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"She was always a sticker, was May...." He -swung round, cheerful again, though lacking -the ecstasy with which he had come in. "Sweet -on Geordie, was she? Well, I guess a live -dog's better than a dead lion! I'll hop across -for a chin."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll loss yourself, crossing t'sand."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've crossed it every night in my dreams!" He -came back to her, with his face tender again, -the thin flame of the candle showing his pleasant -eyes and kindly lips. "Say, though!" he -added anxiously. "I can come back?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Best bide at t' 'Ship.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But I'd a deal rather sleep here!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you wain't, and that's flat!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's Geordie's bed, ain't there?" he -urged her, in pleading tones. "I'll lay you've -kept it fixed for him all along!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay,--for Geordie!" said Geordie's mother, -setting her mouth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Couldn't you kinder think I was Geordie once -in a while?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not for a mite of a minute?" His voice shook.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, not I!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He lifted his shoulders, and let them droop -again. "I'm sure coming back, though!" he -finished, in his persistent way.... "Stop a -shake, though! What about the tide?"</p> -<p class="pnext">His eyes turned from old custom to the table -over the hearth, and, crossing over to it, he -struck a light. The silver box in his hand -flashed a tiny scintilla on the dusky air. He -looked up at the table, but he did not see it, -the match dwindling above his brooding face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You might ha' been just a mite glad to -see me!" he exclaimed wistfully, stamping -it out upon the flags. "Why, you'd never -ha' known me from Adam if I hadn't given you -the call! It'll give me the knock right out if -May don't know me neither when I sail in. They -say sweethearts don't forget, no more than -mothers, but perhaps it's all a doggoned lie!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"She was Geordie's lass,--not yours!" Sarah -told him, with jealous haste.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sure!" he said with a smile, and struck a -second match.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now he looked at the table in earnest, but -only for a space. "Saturday," she heard him -murmuring, in an absent voice. "Martinmas, -ain't it? ... Tide at ten...."</p> -<p class="pnext">She made a movement forward and put out -her hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, but yon's never----" she began; and stopped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, old woman?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, it's nowt."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's Saturday, ain't it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I reckon it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Saturday's my day for luck," she heard him -saying, as the match died down. "I've got a -cinch on Saturdays, that's sure!" The gaiety -in his tone was only a mockery of what it had -been before. "Tide at ten, eh?--and it's six, -now." He drew his watch from his pocket and -gave it a glance. "Well, so long! I'll be right -back!"</p> -<p class="pnext">To both the moments seemed endless in which -he moved across the floor. His look dwelt upon -her in a last effort to reach her heart, and then -lingered about the room on the dim fellowships -of his youth. But even Geordie himself could -hardly have touched her in that hour. The -strongest motive that had ruled her life had her -finally by the throat.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet she called to him even as he went, afraid, -woman-like, of the sound of the shut door. -"Jim!" she flung after him. "Jim, lad! ... Jim!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Say! Did you call?" He was back again on wings.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay ... it was nowt." She indicated the -pocket-book within reach of her hand. "You'd -best take yon truck along wi' you an' all."</p> -<p class="pnext">Even in his disappointment he was still able -to smile. "It don't need a safe between it and -a Thornthet, I guess!" was all he said. In -that moment, indeed, the money was nothing -and less than nothing to them both. Sarah was -honest to the core, and never remembered once -that dead men tell no tales and that the sea -does not betray.... The thing that had -conquered her soul was at least also above that.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ten, wa'n't it?" he asked, drifting -reluctantly out again. His voice came from further -away, like the gull's voice from the sky. "So -long! Cheero! I'll be back again with the tide...."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">IV</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">She heard rather than felt the silence -re-enfold the house, like the swish of a curtain -softly tumbled down. She was vividly on the -alert for every change in the brooding quiet, but -she was not afraid of the inevitable sound that -must shortly break it again. To herself she -seemed to be shut into the very heart of things, -where everyone knows his secret hiding-place -to be. Nothing could hurt her there, because -it was shut away from pain. Neither remorse -nor fear could touch her in that calm.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet all the time her mind had followed the -man who had gone out, hearing the thud of his -feet on the sandy ground, and seeing the bulk -of him huge on the sea-wall. The sound of his -feet would be sharper on the beach, but when he -got to the sand it would be muffled as if with -cloths. When he came to the channel he would -stand and hail, and the light from the 'Ship' -would lie on the water like a road....</p> -<p class="pnext">But never to-night or in all time would he -get as far as the bank. Suddenly, as he walked, -he would hear a whisper out of the west. It -would mean nothing to him at first, nor the wind -feeling along his cheek. He would only say to -himself that the trees were astir on the far -point. Then he would hear a noise like a coming -shower, and lift up his face to meet the first -of the rain. But the sound that came after -would come running along the sand, until every -rib was vibrating its message to his feet. When -he knew what it was, he would stand perfectly -still, and then he would spring in the air and -start to run. But, run as he might, he would -never reach the shore, or stand on the gold road -that would take him over to May. The white -tide-horses were swifter far than he; their -unshod hoofs would outrun his heavy boots. The -sweeping advance-water would suddenly hem -him in, swirling before his feet and shooting -behind his back. He would run this way and -that in the dark, but it would be no use. He -would run and run, but it would never be any use....</p> -<p class="pnext">From complete detachment she passed -gradually to a comforting sense of quittance -and ease. It was as if a burden that she had -carried all her life had been cut away, so that -she could lift up her head and look in front of -her and breathe free. The sickening jealousy was -gone, the gnawing pain at her heart, the fierce -up-swelling of decimating rage, the long, -narrowed-down brooding of helpless hate. Never -again would she be able to see herself as the -poor relation fawning at Eliza's skirts. The -thing had been done at last which paid Eliza -in full.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had, as she came back within range of -feeling again, one last, great moment of exultant -pride. She seemed to herself actually to grow -in size, to tower in the low room as the shadow -of the home-comer had towered over ceiling and -wall. Into the hands of this oppressed and -poverty-stricken woman there had suddenly -been given the heady power of life and death, -and the stimulant of it was like wine in her -thin blood, making her heart steady as a -firm-blown forge. She felt strong enough in that -moment to send every child of Eliza's out to its -death in the maw of the Night Wave. She felt -an epic figure poised on the edge of the world, -heroic, tremendous, above all laws. Indeed, she -seemed, as it were, to be the very Finger of God -itself....</p> -<p class="pnext">And then faintly the exultation sank; -dimmed, rather, as on a summer day the -sharpness goes out of the high lights on lawn -and wall. The sun is not gone, but the farthest -and finest quality of it is suddenly withdrawn. -In some such way a blurring of vivid certainties -came upon her brain. A breath of wind was -blown sharply through the open window, and -with a touch of surprise she found that she was -cold. The fire, so lately encouraged by the -visitor's presence, had died sulkily into grey -clinkers tinged with red that had no more -warmth to it than a splash of paint. The candle, -on the other hand, had sprung into a tall -flame from a high wick. It was as if it was -making a last effort to illumine the world for -the woman over whose mind was creeping that -vague and blurring mist.</p> -<p class="pnext">With the slackening of the mental tension -her physical self slackened, too. She began -to rock to and fro, muttering softly as she -swayed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Blind thoughts in a blind body's brain!" -she was saying to herself.... "Ay, it's about -time. A blind night and a blind tide.... Ay, -it's about time...."</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet through the blind night and with her -blind sight she still saw the figure swinging over -the sands, broad, confident, strong, as were -all at Blindbeck,--successful and rich. Always -her mind kept close at its back, seeing the solid -print of it on the air, feeling the muscular -firmness of its tread, and hearing the little -whistled tune that kept escaping between its -teeth....</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly she raised her voice, as if addressing -somebody a long way off.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What d'you want wi' a bed as'll never sleep -in bed again? Nay, my lad, you'll have nowt -but churchyard mould! ... Yon's if they find -him, when the tide comes in. There'll be a -bonny fairing for Eliza when the tide comes in!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She stopped abruptly as Simon clattered into -the room, holding herself motionless by a final -effort of will. He glanced uneasily at the still -figure, the unspread table and the dead fire, -but he did not speak. He was still conscious -of guilt and ready to make amends, even to the -extent of going supperless to bed. Outside the -door, he had felt curiously certain that Sarah -was not alone, and even now he looked into -corners for figures that were not there. Coming -in from the dark on the marsh, his instinct had -told him instantly that the atmosphere had -changed, but the knowledge faded once he was -well inside. He wondered whether anything -had been done with the milk, but did not like -to ask, and, setting the still-lighted lantern -on the floor, stooped to unloose his boots.</p> -<p class="pnext">"All yon talk about Geordie's fair give me -the jumps!" he remarked suddenly, with an -embarrassed laugh. "I could ha' sworn I -heard his voice as I was snecking shuppon -door!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She did not answer, and with an inward curse -at his own foolishness he bent lower over his -boots. "Another o' yon big tides," he went on -hurriedly, when the thongs were loosed. "It's -sharp on t'road now. I could hear it as I come in."</p> -<p class="pnext">Even as he spoke the room was suddenly filled -with the sound of the sea. Before the majesty -of the coming presence the whole house seemed -to cringe and cower. Sarah felt the room swing -round with her, and caught at the table, gripping -the edge of it until her very fingers seemed of wood.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There it be!" Simon said, raising himself. -"It's big, as I said." He clanked across to the -window as he spoke, the laces slapping and -trailing on the flags, and again, as he put his -face to the square, the wind that blows before -the tide stirred mightily through the room. -Far-off, but coming fast, they could hear the -messenger from the deep, sweeping its garment -over the head of the crouched waste, as it -sped to deliver its challenge at the locked gate -of the sea-wall.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sarah had still control over her actual body, -but no more. With Simon's entrance she had -realised herself again, and knew that she was -weak and old, with a mind that had got beyond -her, and cried and ran to and fro as Jim would -run when he heard the Wave. Always she -seemed to herself to be close at his back, but -now she ran to warn him and stumbled as she -ran. She flung out her arms towards him in an -aching passion to hold him close, and in that -moment felt the truth drop, stilly, into her -whirling brain. He turned his face towards her -swiftly as they went, and for all its likeness it -was not Jim's face. She saw him swept and -helpless in the swirl of the tide, and in the dark -and the tumult knew that the precious body -was not Jim's. She saw him borne in the -stillness of morning to the haunted Tithe-Barn -where all the drowned were laid, and by the -light of the truth that there is between living -and dead knew she had always known it was -not Jim....</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope May's gitten back," Simon was -saying anxiously, as he peered out. "I hope -she's landed back...." Presently he leaned -further, and gave a sigh of relief. "Ay,--there -goes Fleming's lamp!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Instantly, as the light went out, there came -from the sands a whistle and then a cry. Simon -spun round, saying, "What's yon?" with a -frightened look, and when the call came again -he snatched the lantern from the floor. The -third call came suddenly faint, as if its author -were running towards the tide, and with a -harsh cry a gull swept white and huge beyond -the pane. Simon fell back at the sight of it, -crying aloud, and throwing his arm before his eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">But at the same moment Sarah burst her -bonds. "Geordie, Geordie!" she screamed, -and ran frenziedly to the door. "Nay, it's -over now," she finished, falling back against the -wall. "Gang out and seek our fairing, -master,--mine and thine!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">PRINTED AT<br /> -WM. BRENDON AND SON, LTD.<br /> -PLYMOUTH. ENGLAND</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="center transition"> -<p class="pfirst">――――</p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large">CONSTANCE HOLME'S NOVELS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">CRUMP FOLK GOING HOME</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Holme has an unusual sense of character, a fine -sincerity, an exquisite feeling for the country-side and its -traditions. Moreover, there is a literary and poetic grace -in her writing that adds to the charm of her notable work. -We have read it with infinite pleasure."--<em class="italics">Globe</em>.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is a fine story."--<em class="italics">Pall Mall Gazette</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE LONELY PLOUGH</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thought, vigour, humour, variety, have gone to the -making of this book, and the result is a success."--<em class="italics">Times</em>.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The writing is graceful, in places brilliant. You cannot -skip it; it is literature of a very high order, most unusual -work which sooner or later must be widely appreciated at -its full value."--<em class="italics">Bystander</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE OLD ROAD FROM SPAIN</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"Few writers get into their work more than Miss Holme -does of the pity and beauty of life."--<em class="italics">Daily Mail</em>.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A novel which for sheer emotional grip and thrill sets -its author very high among modern writers"--<em class="italics">T.P.'s Weekly</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">BEAUTIFUL END</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is a distinguished piece of work."--<em class="italics">Bystander</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE SPLENDID FAIRING</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large">LOUISE GERARD'S NOVELS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE WITCH CHILD</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net and 2s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"One of the best romances of the year."--<em class="italics">To-Day</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">DAYS OF PROBATION</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net and 2s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"All about hospital life. Full of vivacity."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">LIFE'S SHADOW SHOW</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net and 2s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"A very able novel written with much vigour and -undeniable charm.... Miss Gerard's best novel."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">FLOWER-OF-THE-MOON</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net and 2s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"A dainty romance."--<em class="italics">Times</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE VIRGIN'S TREASURE</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net and 2s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"A story of unusual interest."--<em class="italics">Sunday Times</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">A TROPICAL TANGLE</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net and 2s. net</p> -<p class="pnext">"Having taken up the book we found ourselves -loth to lay it aside until we had turned the last -page."--<em class="italics">Liverpool Post</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE SWIMMER</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">THE MYSTERY OF GOLDEN LOTUS</p> -<p class="pnext">6s. net</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">MILLS & BOON, Ltd., 49 Rupert Street, London, W.1</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line">*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>THE SPLENDID FAIRING</span> ***</p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">A Word from Project Gutenberg</h2> -<p class="pfirst">We will update this book if we find any errors.</p> -<p class="pnext">This book can be found under: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40545"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40545</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext">Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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