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 halfway 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.
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 tonight?”
She shook her head.
“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.”
“Likely you’re going up road for a crack wi’ Mrs. Bridge?”
“Nay … I didn’t think o’ going there.”
“To t’station, happen?”
“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.
“What’s up, lass?” he asked quietly, letting his paper drop. “What d’you want to do?”
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 tonight. 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.”
Fleming looked perturbed.
“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?”
“I don’t feel as I can. I’m set on going tonight. I’ve often been across as late, you’ll think on. I’ll take right good care.”
“What about tide?”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
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.
“Is there any news o’ that wastrel lad o’ theirs? Happen he’s thinking o’ coming back?”
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.
“That’s it, father! That’s right.” She laughed on a buoyant, happy note. “Our Geordie’s coming home!”
“Tonight?” Fleming’s mouth opened. “D’ye mean he’s coming tonight?”
“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!”
“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?”
Her head drooped a little.
“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.”
“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.”
“I’m past thinking o’ marriage,” she said again. “It’s just what it means to the old folks, poor old souls!”
“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. …”
She was gone with an answering smile directly he finished his speech, and the sound of her feet was light
