"Yeshe's fair made me hate Odiam. I liked the place well enough when I was a little lad, but he's made[Pg 411] me sick of it. It's all very well living on a farm and working on it, but when you're supposed to give up your whole life to it and think of nothing else, well, it's too much."
ONE:Whether Calverley's quick glance had caught the marriage ring upon her uncovered finger, or, whether the basket on her arm, together with the circumstance of her being abroad at an hour that used to be devoted to her needle, told him she was no longer a thing to be thought of with hope, or looked on with love, it is difficult to say; but he stood suddenly still, and his cheeks and lips became palealmost livid. Margaret turned and walked hastily down the path, her pallid cheek, and trembling limbs, alone telling that she had recognized Calverley. He stood silently gazing after her, till a winding in the path, shut her out from his view. He then walked rapidly on to Winchcombe, entered the first vintner's he came to, and, to the surprise of the host, who knew Master Calverley to be a sober man, called for a measure of wine, drank it off at a draught, and throwing down the money, departed as abruptly as he came. In a few minutes after, he entered the room of old Luke, the steward Sudley Castle.Calverley was about to speak, when he was interrupted by De Boteler, who expressed himself dissatisfied with the explanations on both sides:
TWO:Somehow out there was a wider life, a life which took no reck of sickness or horror or self-reproach. The wind which stung his face and roughed his hair, the sun which tanned his nape as he bent to his work, the smell of the earth after rain, the mists that brewed in the hollows at dusk, and at dawn slunk like spirits up to the clouds ... they were all part of something too great to take count of human painso much greater than he that in it he could forget his trouble, and find ease and hope and purposeeven though he was fighting it.She struggled to her feet, sobs shaking and tearing her, and stumbled through the darkness to the door. Still sobbing she dragged herself upstairs, clinging to the rail, and every now and then stopping and bending double. Her loud sobs rang through the house, and soon the womenfolk were about her, questioning her, soothing her, and in the end putting her, still weeping, to bed. While outside in the barn Reuben watched in agony beside a sick cow.
TWO:For the next two or three days the boy was desperate. His manhood was in a trap. He thought of a dozen plans for breaking free, but whichever way he turned the steel jaws seemed to close on him. What could he do? He was not strong and ruthless like his father, or he might have broken his way out; he was not clever like Richard, or he might have contrived it. Money, moneythat was what lay at the bottom of his helplessness. Even if he had a very little he could take Bessie away and marry her, and then they could both find work together on a farm. But he had not a penny. He tried to borrow some of Pete, but Pete showed him his empty pockets:"By my faith! my Lord de Boteler, your hall seems a fitting place to act miracles in," said Richard, laughing.
After a night of cursings and trampings in his room, he took the fermenting dregs of his wrath to Cheat Land. It was queer that he should go for sympathy to Alice Jury, who was chief in the enemy's camp. But[Pg 231] though he knew she would not take his part, she would not be like the others, leering and cackling. She would give him something vital, even if it was only a vital opposition. That was all the difference between her and everyone elseshe opposed him not because she was flabby or uninterested or enterpriseless, but because she really hated what he strove for. She was his one strong candid enemy, so he went to her as his only friend."Oh, Joe, he's seen us.""Yes, dearie, I know, and it's unaccountable good of you and Naomi to let me come wud you. I d?an't think we should ought to mind helping your brother a bit here, when we've all that to look forrard to. But he's a strange lad, and your f?ather 'ud turn in his grave to see him."