“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.”
“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.
“May give me a fair start,” he observed presently, when the flame had consented to grow. “What was she after, coming off like that?”
“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.”
“She mun ha’ been rarely keen to come across so late. Was it summat or other she wanted you to do?”
“Ay,” Sarah said firmly, “but I couldn’t see my way. I tellt her so this morning when I see her in town.”
“Summat about your eyes, likely?” he enquired nervously, blowing hard.
“Losh save us, no! It was nowt to do wi’ that.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.
“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!”
“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.”
“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!”
Sarah received these remarks with an ironic smile.
“Bosom friends we’d ha’ been, d’ye think,” she asked, “if I’d nobbut seen my way to a bit more care?”
“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.”
“Happen I’d ha’ done best to hold my tongue, when she was telling all Witham we’d gitten notice to quit?”
“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.
“You’d have had me set by and say nowt while she sneered at our lad?”
“Nay, then, I wouldn’t—dang her! … I wouldn’t, that’s flat!”
“You’d have had me say nowt, neither, yon day we was wed—give her a kiss, happen, and praise her gown—?”
“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!”
Sarah looked at his prancing shape with the same ironic smile.
“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.”
“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 tonight as I haven’t for weeks. I’m right sorry, though, if you’re taking it hard.”
“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.”
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.
“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
