The roads outside Rye were dark with people. A procession was forming up at Rye Foreign, and another at the foot of Cadborough Hill. Outside the railway station a massed band played something rather like the Marseillaise, while the grass-grown, brine-smelling streets were spotted with stragglers, hurrying up from[Pg 308] all quarters, some carrying torches that flung shifting gleams on windows and gable-ends.
It was strange that during this gay meal the strongest link was forged between Rose and Caro. Two natures more utterly unlike it would be hard to findCaro's starved ignorance of love and aged familiarity with dustier matters made her the antithesis of Rose, a child in all things save those of the affections; but the two women's hearts met in their laughter. It was Rose who invited, Caro who responded, for Rose in spite of her years and inexperience had the one advantage which made her the older of the two. She was drawn to Caro partly from essential kindness, partly because she [Pg 260]appreciated the luxury of pitying herCaro responded with all the shy devotion of a warped nature going out towards one who enjoys that for which it unconsciously pines. Rose's beauty, jollity, and happiness made her a goddess to the less fortunate girl.
ONE:"I couldn't have stood much more, and this will be a good excuse."Realf suddenly seemed to shrink into himself. The next minute he was swaying unsteadily on his legs, refusing the hands held out to support him.
THREE:They flowed through Playden like a torrent through an open sluice, sweeping up and carrying on all sorts of flotsamvillagers from cottage doors, ploughboys from the farms down by the Military Canal, gipsies from Iden Wood ... a mixed multitude, which the central mass absorbed, till all was one steaming and shouting blackness.
"Do you like pictures?" asked Alice, thumping dough.Lucy promised to be circumspect, and in less than ten minutes placed a flagon of her father's best ale before the galleyman, and then bounding away with a light laugh, as Wells sprang forward to pay for it with a kiss, her little form was instantly lost in the darkness of the evening."Steward," said Isabella, turning quickly to Calverley, "see that the vassals have obeyed your orders. Remember, the varlet must be found!" And, as Calverley withdrew, she said to De Boteler with a thrill of apprehension, "Roland, do you not remember the words of the monk when our first darling was lying a corpse? 'The blight has fallen on the blossombeware of the tree!'" De Boteler's countenance changed while she spoke, from anger to thoughtfulness.
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