"There"s a lot of things you might be worried about. What did you tell me about your wurzels?"
"They"re not so bad."
"Then I can"t see as there"s any need for you to look glum."
"No more there ain"t," said Arthur in the voice of a man making a desperate decision.
--25
It was not till nearly a month later that Joanna heard that people were "talking" about Ellen and Sir Harry. Gossip generally took some time to reach her, owing to her s.e.x, which was not privileged to frequent the Woolpack bar, where rumours invariably had a large private circulation before they were finally published at some auction or market. She resented this disability, but in spite of the general daring of her outlook and behaviour, nothing would have induced her to enter the Woolpack save by the discreet door of the landlady"s parlour, where she occasionally sipped a gla.s.s of ale. However, she had means of acquiring knowledge, though not so quickly as those women who were provided with husbands and sons. On this occasion Mene Tekel f.a.gge brought the news, through the looker at Slinches, with whom she was walking out.
"That"ll do, Mene," said Joanna to her handmaiden, "you always was the one to pick up idle tales, and Dansay should ought to be ashamed of himself, drinking and talking the way he does. Now you go and tell Peter Crouch to bring me round the trap."
She drove off to Donkey Street, carrying her scandal to its source. She was extremely angry--not that for one moment she believed in the truth of those accusations brought against her sister, but Ellen was just the sort of girl, with her airs and notions, to get herself talked about at the Woolpack, and it was disgraceful to have such things said about one, even if they were not true. There was a p.r.i.c.kly heat of shame in Joanna"s blood as she hustled the mare over the white loops of the Romney road.
The encounter with Ellen made her angrier still.
"I don"t care what they say," said her sister, "why should I mind what a public-house bar says against me?"
"Well, you should ought to mind--it"s shameful."
"They"ve said plenty against you."
"Not that sort of thing."
"I"d rather have that sort of thing said about me than some."
"Ellen!"
"Well, the Squire"s isn"t a bad name to have coupled with mine, if they must couple somebody"s."
"I wonder you ain"t afraid of being struck dead, talking like that--you with the most kind, good-tempered and lawful husband that ever was."
"Do you imagine that I"m disloyal to Arthur?"
"Howsumever could you think I"d dream of such a thing?"
"Well, it"s the way you"re talking."
"It ain"t."
"Then why are you angry?"
"Because you shouldn"t ought to get gossiped about like that."
"It isn"t my fault."
"It is. You shouldn"t ought to have Sir Harry about the place as much as you do. The last two times I"ve been here, he"s been too."
"I like him--he amuses me."
"I like him too, but he ain"t worth nothing, and he"s got a bad name.
You get shut of him, Ellen--I know him, and I know a bit about him; he ain"t the sort of man to have coming to your house when folks are talking."
"You have him to yours--whenever you can get him."
"But then I"m a single woman, and he being a single man there"s no harm in it."
"Do you think that a married woman should know no man but her husband?"
"What did she marry a husband for?"
"Really, Joanna ... however, there"s no use arguing with you. I"m sorry you"re annoyed at the gossip, but to keep out of the gossip here one would have to live like a cabbage. You haven"t exactly kept out of it yourself."
"Have done, do, with telling me that. They only talk about me because I"m more go-ahead than any of "em, and make more money. Anyone may talk about you that way and I shan"t mind. But to have it said at the Woolpack as you, a married woman, lets a man like Sir Harry be for ever hanging around your house ..."
"Are you jealous?" said Ellen softly. "Poor old Jo--I"m sorry if I"ve taken _another_ of your men."
Joanna opened her mouth and stared at her. At first she hardly understood, then, suddenly grasping what was in Ellen"s mind, she took in her breath for a torrential explanation of the whole matter. But the next minute she realized that this was hardly the moment to say anything which would prejudice her sister against Arthur Alce. If Ellen would value him more as a robbery, then let her persist in her delusion. The effort of silence was so great that Joanna became purple and apoplectic--with a wild, grabbing gesture she turned away, and burst out of the house into the drive, where her trap was waiting.
--26
The next morning Mene Tekel brought fresh news from the Woolpack, and this time it was of a different quality, warranted to allay the seething of Joanna"s moral sense. Sir Harry Trevor had sold North Farthing to a retired bootmaker. He was going to the South of France for the winter, and was then coming back to his sister"s flat in London, while she went for a lecturing tour in the United States. The Woolpack was very definitely and minutely informed as to his doings, and had built its knowledge into the theory that he must have had some more money left him.
Joanna was delighted--she forgave Sir Harry, and Ellen too, which was a hard matter. None the less, as November approached through the showers and floods, she felt a little anxious lest he should delay his going or perhaps even revoke it. However, the first week of the month saw the arrival of the bootmaker from Deal, with two van-loads of furniture, and his wife and four grown-up daughters--all as ugly as roots, said the Woolpack. The Squire"s furniture was sold by auction at Dover, from which port his sailing was in due course guaranteed by credible eye-witnesses. Joanna once more breathed freely. No one could talk about him and Ellen now--that disgraceful scandal, which seemed to lower Ellen to the level of Marsh dairy-girls in trouble, and had about it too that strange luciferian flavour of "the sins of Society," that scandal had been killed, and its dead body taken away in the Dover mail.
Now that he was gone, and no longer a source of danger to her family"s reputation, she found herself liking Sir Harry again. He had always been friendly, and though she fundamentally disapproved of his "ways," she was woman enough to be thrilled by his lurid reputation. Moreover, he provided a link, her last living link, with Martin"s days--now that strange women kept rabbits in the backyards of North Farthing and the rooms were full of the Deal bootmaker"s resplendent suites, that time of dew and gold and dreams seemed to have faded still further off. For many years it had lain far away on the horizon, but now it seemed to have faded off the earth altogether, and to live only in the sunset sky or in the dim moon-risings, which sometimes woke her out of her sleep with a start, as if she slipped on the verge of some troubling memory.
This kindlier state of affairs lasted for about a month, during which Joanna saw very little of Ellen. She was at rest about her sister, for the fact that Ellen might be feeling lonely and unhappy at the departure of her friend did not trouble her in the least; such emotions, so vile in their source, could not call for any sympathy. Besides, she was busy, hunting for a new cowman to work under Broadhurst, whose undertakings, since the establishment of the milk-round, had almost come to equal those of the looker in activity and importance.
She was just about to set out one morning for a farm near Brenzett, when she saw Arthur Alce come up to the door on horseback.
"Hullo, Jo!" he called rather anxiously through the window. "Have you got Ellen?"
"I?--No. Why should I have her, pray?"
"Because I ain"t got her."
"What d"you mean? Get down, Arthur, and come and talk to me in here.
Don"t let everyone hear you shouting like that."
Arthur hitched his horse to the paling and came in.