VI + 

That which had been the terrible Eliza sat still for a long moment after Sarah had gone out. There was silence about the table until Elliman Wilkinson took upon himself to speak. + 

“But Jim’s never your son, Cousin Eliza?” he exclaimed, puzzled, rushing in where not only angels would have feared to tread, but where the opposite host also would have taken care to keep their distance. “It’s very stupid of me, of course, but I’ve always made sure that Geordie-an’-Jim were twins.” + 

Eliza turned baleful eyes upon the eager, inquisitive face. Her mind, concentrated in sullen fury upon the enemy recently departed with banners, found a difficulty in focusing itself upon this insignificant shape. When it succeeded, however, she ground him into dust. + 

“Ay, well, next time you feel sure of anything, you can make certain you’re dead wrong!” she told him cruelly, surveying his bland countenance with cold contempt. “Jim’s my eldest, if you want to know, and as much the better o’ Geordie as Blindbeck’s the better o’ yon mudhole down on the marsh! He was always the smarter lad o’ the two⁠—’tisn’t likely he’d ha’ been left.⁠ ⁠… I’ll lay what you like it’s Jim as is really coming, after all!” + 

“But in that case you would surely have heard from him yourself?” Elliman was still disporting himself with the brazen folly of innocence upon the forbidden ground. “He’d have written to tell his mother, surely⁠—not his aunt?” + 

A distinct thrill of apprehension ran through the company at this tactful speech. Mary Phyllis’s nudge on this occasion was one of sharp reproof. The clouds thickened on Eliza’s brow. + 

“Nay, then, he just wouldn’t, Mr. Clever-Lad-Know-All, so that’s that! I’m his mother right enough, as nobody but a fool would ha’ needed telling, but he wouldn’t ha’ written me, all the same. Me and Jim got across a while back, and he’s taken sulks with me ever since. He’d be like enough to write to Sarah, by way of giving me back a bit o’ my own. She always cockered him fearful, did Sarah, and set him agen me whenever she could. And if there’s brass about, as she says, she’ll keep it warm for him, never fear! She’ll take right good care it never gets past her to Blindbeck or any of his own!” + 

“Jim would ha’ been right enough but for Geordie all along.” Mrs. Addison shook a loose and agile bonnet with an impressive air. “He was a right-down nuisance, was Geordie Thornthet⁠—a bad lad as well as a reg’lar limb! Such tricks as he was up to, I’m sure⁠—turmut-lanterns and the like, booin’ at folks’ winders after dark, and hiding behind hedges when folk was courtin’ about t’lanes! Stephen and me wasn’t wed then, you’ll think on, and I mind a terble fright as Geordie give us one summer night. Stephen was terble sweet on me, as you’ll likely know, though he’d choke himself black in the face afore he’d own to it now. Well, yon night as I’m speaking of he had hold o’ my hand, and was looking as near like a dying duck in a thunderstorm as ever I see. ‘Jenny Sophia,’ he was saying, as sweet as a field of clover, ‘I’m that set on you, Jenny Sophia’⁠—when up pops Geordie on t’far side o’ the hedge, girning and making a hullaballoo like a donkey afore rain!” + 

“You’ve no call to go raking up yon d⁠—d rubbish!” Mr. Addison burst out, crimson to the hair, and quite forgetting the obligations of his Christian mission. He had said the same thing to Eliza’s eldest lass, and much about the same time, and knew that Eliza knew it as well as he. “Folks isn’t right in their heads when they’re courtin’, as everybody knows, and it’s real mean to bring it agen ’em after all these years. As for Geordie Thornthet, there was lile or nowt I could learn him, and that’s sure! T’lasses was always after him like bees at a bottle o’ rum.” + 

“Nay, now, you mean our Jim!” Jim’s mother corrected him with an air of offence. “Nobody never reckoned nowt o’ Geordie but May Fleming. He couldn’t hold a candle to Jim, any day o’ the week. Folk said they couldn’t tell ’em apart, but I never see a scrap o’ likeness myself.” She glanced defiantly round the table, as if expecting opposition, and then swung round eagerly as Sally reappeared. “Well, my lass, well?” she rapped out⁠—“did she tell you anything more? You’ve taken your time about coming back, I’m sure!” + 

“Nay, she said nowt fresh,” Sally answered evasively, without meeting her eyes. She advanced to the table and began to gather the china together, ready for clearing away. Her mother pushed back her chair with an angry scrape. + 

“Well, of all the gert, helpless gabies!” she exploded violently. “I made sure she’d talk when she’d gitten you by herself. Didn’t she say when letter come, or how much brass there was, or owt?⁠ ⁠… Eh, well, it’s never Geordie as made it, that I’ll swear!” + 

“She said it was Geordie.” Sally went on mechanically with her task, collecting cups and plates from under the noses of the still-stupefied clan. “It’s real nice, anyway, to see somebody happy,” she added suddenly, raising her eyes to look at the smug cousin. Elliman met them unexpectedly and coloured furiously. On a sudden remorseful impulse he shuffled a couple of plates together, and handed them to her with a deprecating air. + 

“I can’t say she looked very set up about it, anyhow!” Eliza sneered. “What, she was even more glumpy than usual, seemed to me!” + 

“More like a burying than a homecoming, by a deal!” Mary Phyllis finished for her, with a scornful laugh. + 

“As for Uncle Simon, he was as cross as a pair of shears!” Emily Marion added in a fretted tone. The Thornthwaites were making things awkward today for the bride-to-be. Simon had nearly queered the engagement at the start, and now the company’s interest was all for a Thornthwaite whom she had never seen. + 

“Not how I should take good news, certainly!” Elliman said, hoping that no one had noticed his menial act. “I should have something more to say for myself, I hope, than that.” + 

Eliza’s eyes brightened considerably at this unanimous point of view. + 

“Nay, you’re right there,” she took them up eagerly, “you’re right enough! ’Tisn’t natural to be so quiet. I’ll tell you what it is,” she added impressively, “it’s one o’ two things, that’s all. It’s either a lie from beginning to end, or else⁠—or else⁠—well, it’s our Jim!” She pushed her chair further still, and got hurriedly to her feet. “Ay, well, whichever it is, I’d best see for myself,” she added quickly. “You’ll not mind me leaving you, Mrs. Addison, just for a little while? I don’t know as we’re doing right to leave Sarah so long alone. She’s getting a bit of an old body now, you know, and she was never that strong in her poor head.” + 

She departed noisily after this surprisingly sympathetic speech, and Sarah, hearing her heavy step along the passage, chuckled for the last time. Her mind braced itself for the coming contest with a grim excitement that was almost joy. Nothing could have been more unlike her attitude of the morning in the innyard. She lay back in her chair again and closed her eyes, and was rocking peacefully when Eliza opened the door. + 

Just for the moment the sight of the tranquil figure gave her pause, but neither sleep nor its greater Counterpart could still Eliza for very long. “Feeling more like yourself, are you, Sarah?” she enquired cautiously, peering in, and then repeated the question when she got no answer. Finally, irritated by the other’s immobility which was obviously not sleep, she entered the room heavily, shutting the door with a sharp click. “There’s nowt amiss, from the look of you,” she added loudly, as she advanced. + 

Sarah exclaimed, “Eh now, whatever’s yon!” at the sound of the harsh voice, and sat up stiffly, winking her blind eyes. She even turned her head and blinked behind, as if she thought the voice had come out of the grandfather’s clock. “Nay, I’ll do now, thank ye,” she answered politely, discovering Eliza’s whereabouts with a show of surprise. “It’ll be about time we were thinking of getting off.” + 

Eliza, however, had no intention of parting with her just yet. She stopped her hastily when she tried to rise. + 

“Nay, now, there isn’t that much hurry, is there?” she demanded sharply. “Yon old horse o’ yourn’ll barely have stretched his legs. Your master and mine’d have a deal to say to each other an’ all.” She paused a moment, creaking from foot to foot, and staring irresolutely at the mask-like face. “You talked a deal o’ stuff in t’other room, Sarah,” she broke out at last, “but I reckon you meant nowt by it, after all?” + 

Sarah wanted to chuckle again, but was forced to deny herself the pleasure. For appearance’ sake she stiffened her back, and bristled a little at Eliza’s tone. + 

“Ay, but I did!” she retorted briskly, her voice firm. “Whatever else should I mean, I’d like to know?” + 

The strong hope that had sprung in Eliza’s heart died down again before this brazen show. + 

“You can’t rightly know what you’re saying, Sarah,” she said coldly, “you can’t, indeed! Geordie coming after all these years⁠—nay, now, yon isn’t true!” + 

“Ay, but it is, I tell ye⁠—true enough! True as yon Sunday fringe o’ yourn as you bought in Witham!” + 

“And wi’ brass, you said?” Eliza let the flippant remark pass without notice, and Sarah nodded. “A deal o’ brass?” + 

“Yon’s what he says.” + 

“Eh, well, I never did!” The angry wind of her sigh passed over Sarah’s head and rustled the honesty in a vase behind. She repeated “I never did!” and creaked away from the enemy towards the window. Behind her, Geordie’s mother allowed the ghost of a smile to find a fleeting resting-place on her lips. + 

“And so he’s on his road home, is he⁠—coming right back?” Mrs. Will kept her back turned, thinking hard as she spoke. There was no section of Sarah’s statement but she intended to prove by the inch. “Ay, well, it’s what they mostly do when they’ve made their brass.” + 

“He’ll be over here, I reckon, afore you can say knife! Taking first boat, he says he is, or the fastest he can find.” She turned her head towards the door through which his voice had come in the dream. “What, I shouldn’t be that surprised if he was to open yon door now!” + 

There was such conviction in her tone that Eliza, too, was startled into turning her head. There was nothing to see, of course, and she turned back, but her ears still thrilled with the thrill in Sarah’s voice. The cowman, passing, saw her face behind the glass, and said to himself that the missis was out for trouble once again. + 

She was silent for a while, trying vainly to grapple the situation in the pause. She saw well enough that there was nothing to be gained by dispute if the story were true. She still looked to be top-dog in that or any other case, because Blindbeck pride was founded on solid Blindbeck gold; but there was no denying that the enemy would lie in a totally different position, and would have to be met on totally different ground. If, on the other hand, the great statement was a lie, there would be plenty of time for vengeance when the facts were known. Her malicious soul argued that the real game was to give Sarah plenty of rope, but her evil temper stood in the way of the more subtle method. It got the upper hand of her at last, and she flung round with an angry swing. + 

“Nay, then, I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed passionately⁠—“I just can’t! It’s a pack o’ lies, that’s what it is, Sarah⁠—a gert string o’ senseless lies!” + 

This coarse description of her effort hurt Sarah in her artistic pride. She stiffened still further. + 

“I reckoned you’d take it like that,” she replied in a dignified tone. “ ’Tisn’t decent nor Christian, but it’s terble nat’ral.” + 

“I don’t see how you could look for folks to take it different!” Eliza cried. “ ’Tisn’t a likely sort o’ story, any way round. Ne’er-do-weels don’t make their fortunes every day o’ the week, and your Geordie was a wastrel, if ever there was one yet. You don’t look like good news, neither, come to that. They’ve just been saying so in t’other room.” + 

“Good news wants a bit o’ getting used to,” Sarah said quietly, “same as everything else. When you’ve never had no luck for years and years you don’t seem at first as if you could rightly take it in.” + 

“More particular when you’re making it up out o’ your own head!” Eliza scoffed, but growing more and more unwillingly convinced. “Nay, now, Sarah!” she added impatiently, her hands twitching⁠—“what d’ye think ye’re at? What about all yon talk o’ giving up the farm? No need for such a to-do if Geordie’s coming home!” + 

For the first time, though only just for a second, Sarah quailed. For the first time she had a glimpse of the maze in which she had set her feet, and longed sharply for her physical sight as if it would help her mental vision. But her brain was still quick with the power of the dream, and it rose easily to the sudden need. “It’s like this, d’ye see,” she announced firmly. “Simon knows nowt about it yet. I didn’t mean telling him till we’d gitten back.” + 

Eliza had followed the explanation with lowering brows, but now she burst into one of her great laughs. + 

“Losh, Sarah, woman! but I’d have a better tale than that! What, you’d never ha’ let him give in his notice, and you wi’ your tongue in your cheek all the time!⁠ ⁠… When did you get yon precious letter o’ yours?” she enquired swiftly, switching on to another track. + 

“Just last minute this morning as we was starting off.” Sarah was thoroughly launched now on her wild career. Each detail as she required it rose triumphantly to her lips. “Simon was back in t’stable wi’ t’horse when postman come, so I put it away in my pocket and settled to say nowt. I thought it was likely axing for money or summat like that, and Simon had more than enough to bother him as it was. I got May Fleming to read it for me at doctor’s,” she finished simply, with a supreme touch. “I’m terble bad wi’ my eyes, Eliza, if you’ll trouble to think on.” + 

Once again Eliza was forced to belief against her will, and then once again she leaped at the only discrepancy in the tale. + 

“You could ha’ tellt Simon easy enough on the road out!” she threw at her in a swift taunt. “There’s time for a deal o’ telling at your rate o’ speed!” + 

But now, to her vexed surprise, it was Sarah who laughed, and with a society smoothness that would have been hard to beat. It was in matters like these that the dream lifted her into another sphere, puzzling her clumsy antagonist by the finer air she seemed to breathe. + 

“Eh, now, Eliza!” she said good-humouredly, and with something almost like kindliness in her voice, “whatever-like use is it telling a man owt when he’s chock full o’ summat else? Simon was fit to crack himself over some joke as he’d heard in Witham, talking a deal o’ nonsense and laughing fit to shake the trap! Coming from market’s no time any day for telling a man important news, and anyway I’d never ha’ got a word in edgeways if I’d tried.” She paused a moment, and then continued, aspiring to still greater heights. “I’d another reason an’ all for wanting it kept quiet. I knew he’d be sure an’ certain to go shouting it out here.” + 

“Ay, and why ever not, I’d like to know!” Eliza gasped, when she was able to speak. “Come to that, you were smart enough shoving it down our throats yourself!” + 

“Ay, but that was because I lost my temper,” Sarah admitted, with a noble simplicity which again struck the other dumb. “If I hadn’t ha’ lost my temper,” she added, “I should ha’ said nowt⁠—nowt!”⁠—a statement so perfectly true in itself that it needed nothing to make it tell. “I never meant you should hear it so sudden-like,” she went on gently, the kindness growing in her voice. “It’s hard lines our Geordie should ha’ done so well for himself, and not your Jim. I never meant to crow over you about it, Eliza⁠—I didn’t, indeed. I never thought o’ such a thing!” + 

Eliza was making a noise like a motorcar trying to start, but Sarah took up her tale before she could reply. + 

“As for letting Simon give in his notice as we’d fixed, I don’t know as it’ll make that much differ, after all. There’s my eyes, for one thing, as I mentioned before. Blind folk is only a nuisance wherever they be, but they’re a real, right-down nuisance on a farm. And Geordie’ll want more nor a farm, I reckon, wi’ all yon brass to splash. He’ll want summat wi’ stables and gardens and happen fishing an’ all⁠—a grand gentleman’s spot, likely, same as the Hall itself.” + 

Mrs. Will felt the world wheeling rapidly about her, and tried to clutch at it as it went. Her temples throbbed and her throat worked, and her staring eyes went blind. She groped her way to the window, and flung up the stiff sash; and, as she stood there, drawing panting breaths, Simon and Will came sauntering through the yard. Her eyes, clearing again in the rush of air, caught the incipient smile on Simon’s face, the new signs of interest and life in his whole look. He could know nothing about the great news, if what Sarah said was true; the utmost that he could do was to sense it in the air. But his look of subtle contentment was a sufficient annoyance in itself. It was the last straw, indeed, which broke the back of Eliza’s self-control. When she turned again her words and her breath came with the leap of a mountain stream. + 

“I wonder you’re not afraid, Sarah Thornthet, to be setting there reeling off lies like hanks o’ cotton off a bobbin! Happen you’re just thinking you’ll get a rise out o’ me and mine, but if that’s the best you can do by way of a joke, well, I think nowt on’t, and so I tell you! Geordie coming home wi’ brass! Geordie wanting the Hall and suchlike! Nay, Sarah, I might ha’ believed the rest wi’ a bit o’ pulling and pushing, but yon last’s taking it over far. Why, I’d as lief believe he was going to get the King’s Crown right out, wi’ mappen Witham Town Hall for a spot to live in! As for thinking o’ me and my feelings and suchlike stuff, you’ve never troubled that much about ’em to start bothering now. There’s only two ways about it, Sarah, and I reckon I know which it is. It’s either a smart lie you’ve been telling from end to end, or else it’s never Geordie that’s coming, but our Jim!” + 

She choked when she came to the last words, both from sudden nervousness, and lack of breath, and again Sarah gave her well-bred laugh. + 

“I wouldn’t be as hard o’ faith as you, Eliza,” she said placidly⁠—“not for a deal! It’s you, not me, would have heard if Jim was coming home. What’s Jim to do wi’ me?” + 

“He’d a deal to do wi’ you when he was in England, as everybody knows! Nay, you hated the sight o’ him⁠—that’s true enough⁠—but you were right keen on trying to set him agen me, all the same. What, the last letter I had from him⁠—and terble saucy an’ all⁠—was blacking me over summat I’d said of you as his lordship didn’t like! Nay, if he come home, Sarah, he’d come to you, not me, and right glad you’d be to have him while he’d a penny before his teeth! Ay, and why shouldn’t our lad ha’ done as well as yours, and happen better, come to that? He was the smarter lad o’ the two, and come o’ smarter folk⁠—ay, but he did now, Sarah, so you’ll kindly shut your mouth! You’ve only to look at the way we’ve done at Blindbeck, me and Will, and then at the mess o’ things you’ve made at yon pig-hull on the marsh! It stands to reason our lad would be the likely one to make out, just as it isn’t in reason to expect owt from yours!” + 

She came a step nearer as she finished, twisting her plump hands, her voice, as it mounted higher, full of bewilderment and angry tears. + 

“Will you swear to it Jim isn’t coming, Sarah?” she demanded⁠—“will you swear? Will you swear as it isn’t my lad that’s coming and not yours?” + 

Sarah said, “Ay, I will that!” in a hearty tone, and with such absolute readiness that Eliza bit her lip. “If you’ve a Bible anywhere handy,” she went on tranquilly, “I’ll swear to it right off.” + 

But already Eliza had drawn back in order to follow a fresh trail. Quite suddenly she had perceived the only means of getting at the truth. + 

“Nay, I’ll not trouble you,” she sneered. “ ’Tisn’t worth it, after all. I shouldn’t like our grand Family Bible to turn yeller wi’ false swearing! Geordie’s letter’ll be proof enough, Sarah, now I come to think on. I’ll believe owt about Halls and suchlike, if you’ll show me that!” + 

She came a step nearer still, holding out her hand, and instantly Sarah’s lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. She might have had a dozen sacred letters about her, from the look of her, at that moment. It might have been Geordie’s face itself that she guarded from the touch of Eliza’s hands. + 

“Ay, I’d be like to show you his letter, wouldn’t I?” she answered, with a wicked smile. “You and me have been such terble friends all these years⁠—I’d be like to show you owt from my bonny lad! Nay, Eliza, you know I’d shove it in t’fire unread, afore I’d let you as much as clap eyes on a single word!” + 

Eliza wheeled away from her with an angry oath, and began to walk to and fro, setting the loose planks jumping and creaking under her feet, and the china rattling and clinking on the shelves. Her hands worked in and out of each other with convulsive movements, and now and then she flung out her heavy arms. She was working herself into one of those storms which the folk at the farm knew only too well, but Sarah, who was the cause of it, did not seem to care. She, too, however, was breathing faster than before, and a faint colour had stayed in her waxen cheek. She still felt as if, in that last bout, she had protected something vital from Eliza’s hands. + 

“I’ll be bound it’s Jim!” Eliza was saying senselessly, over and over again. “I’ll swear it’s Jim!”⁠ ⁠… It was like a giant’s voice, Sarah thought to herself, the voice of a cruel, clumsy giant-child. “You’re telling a lie, Sarah⁠—a nasty lie! You’re jealous, that’s what it is⁠—jealous and mean! Geordie wi’ brass? Not likely!⁠ ⁠… Nay, it’s Jim!” + 

“It’s plain enough it’s the brass you’re after and nowt else,” Sarah said in her cool tones. “You’d have no use for the poor lad if he come back without a cent!” + 

But even while the words were on her lips, Eliza, creaking to and fro, was brought to a sudden halt. The thing that held her was a photograph of Jim, catching her eye in its frame of crimson plush. If he had been older when it was taken, it would have been banished long ago, but here he was only a mischievous baby, struggling in his mother’s arms. Eliza stared at it as she stood in front of the mantelpiece, and quite suddenly she began to cry. The tears poured down her face, and her hands trembled and her body shook. Into the brutal voice came a note at which Sarah, unable to trace the cause, yet quivered in every nerve. + 

“Nay, then, Sarah, you’re wrong, Sarah, you’re dead wrong! I’d be glad to see him just for himself, I would that! He’s been nowt but a trouble and disappointment all his life, but I’d be glad to see him, all the same.” She put out the plump fingers which Sarah loathed, and drew them caressingly over the baby face. “I can’t do wi’ failures,” she added brokenly; “they make me wild; and Jim was the only failure Blindbeck ever hatched. But for all that he was the bonniest baby of the lot, and there’s times I never remember nowt but that. There’s days I just ache for the sound of his voice, and fair break my heart to think he’ll never come back.” + 

There was no doubting the sincerity of her grief, and the big sobs shaking their way through her shook Sarah, too. Her own lips trembled, and her eyes filled; her hands quivered on the arms of the chair. She could not see the pitiful fingers stroking the child’s face, but she who had offered that worship herself needed little help to guess. She had her revenge in full as she sat and listened to the passion that never dies, forcing its way upward even through Eliza’s leathern soul; but the revenge was a two-edged sword that wounded herself as well. All the generosity in her that was still alive and kind would have sprung to the surface instantly if the story had been true. She would have groped her way to Eliza’s side in an effort to console, and perhaps the lifelong enemies might have drawn together for once. But the story was not true, and she had nothing to offer and no right of any sort to speak. She could only sit where she was and suffer and shake, hating herself more in this moment of absolute conquest than she had ever hated Eliza in her darkest hour. + 

But, as a matter of fact, Eliza’s grief would have passed before she could even have tottered to her feet. Her own lips were still shaking when Eliza’s had hardened again; her own eyes were still wet when Eliza’s were dry with hate. The passion which for a brief moment had been selfless and sincere was turned once again into the channel of jealous rage. She swung round so swiftly that her sleeve caught the little frame, and it fell forward unnoticed with a sharp tinkle of broken glass. + 

“There’s summat wrong about it all,” she cried venomously, “and I’ll not rest till I find out what it is! What’s Geordie mean by landing up so smart, and leaving our Jim a thousand mile behind? It’s a nasty sort o’ trick, if it’s nothing worse, seeing how they were thick as thieves as lads. I’ll tell you what it is, Sarah, and you may swallow it as you can⁠—if Geordie’s gitten brass, it’s because he’s robbed it off our Jim! Like enough he’s put an end to him for it, the poor, honest lad⁠—knifed him⁠ ⁠… finished him⁠ ⁠… put him out o’ the road⁠ ⁠… !” + 

The fierce malice of the voice penetrated into the passage, and carried its message into the kitchen and the yard. Will and Simon heard it at the stable door and looked at each other and turned instantly towards the house. Passing the parlour window, they saw the women rigid on their feet, and felt the current of hate sweep strongly across their path. They had a glimpse of Sarah’s face, white, blind and quiet: and Eliza’s, vindictive, purple, and bathed with furious tears. Her heavy tone beat at the other’s immobility as if with actual blows, and the glass in the cabinet rang and rang in sweet reply. Will quickened his pace as he neared the house, for he knew that Eliza did not always stop at words. Indeed, her hands were reaching out towards Sarah’s throat at the very moment he stepped inside. + 

“Whisht, can’t ye, Eliza!” he ordered roughly, his voice harsh with the swift reaction from the little space of content through which he and his brother had just passed. “What’s taken you, missis, to be going on like yon?” + 

He was now in the parlour, with Simon at his heels, while the company from the kitchen clustered round the door. Peering into the tiny arena round each other’s heads, they giggled and whispered, curious and alarmed. Sarah could hear them stirring and gurgling just beyond her sight, and felt their rapacious glances fastened upon her face. Sally tried to push her way through to her aunt’s side, but was stopped by the solid figure of Elliman, set in the very front. The lads had forsaken the milking to run to the window and peep in, and a dog lifted its bright head and planted its forefeet on the sill. All the life of the place seemed drawn to this little room, where at last the women were fighting things out to the very death. + 

“What’s amiss, d’ye say?” Eliza echoed his speech. “Nay, what isn’t amiss! Here’s Sarah has it her Geordie’s a-coming home, but never a word as I can hear about our Jim!” + 

The eyes of the brothers met in a startled glance, and the red came painfully into Simon’s face. Before they could speak, however, Eliza swept their intention from them like a western gale. + 

“What’s come to Jim, I want to know? Why isn’t it our Jim? Geordie’s made his pile, so Sarah says, but I can’t hear of a pile for Jim. He’s dead, that’s what it is!⁠ ⁠… Geordie’s finished him, I’ll swear! He’s robbed him!⁠ ⁠… knifed him!⁠ ⁠… given him a shove in t’beck⁠ ⁠… !” + 

Again she made that threatening movement towards Sarah’s throat, but Will put out his hand and caught her by the wrist. Both the giggles and whispers had died a sudden death, and the lads at the window pressed nearer and looked scared. Sally succeeded at last in forcing her way through, careless that Elliman suffered severely as she passed. + 

“For goodness’ sake, stop it, mother!” she cried sharply. “You’re fair daft! Can’t you wait to make a stir till Geordie’s landed back? He’ll tell us right enough then what’s happened to our Jim.” + 

“He’ll tell us nowt⁠—nowt⁠—!” Eliza began again on a high note, but Simon threw up his hand with a sudden snarl. + 

“Whisht, can’t ye! You fair deafen a body, Eliza!” he flung out. “What’s all this stir about Geordie coming back?” + 

“It’s a lie, that’s what it is!” Eliza exploded again, and again he silenced her with an angry “Whisht!” He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, as if daring her to speak, and then let them travel slowly and almost reluctantly to his wife’s face. He opened his lips to address her and then changed his mind, turning instead to the crew beyond the door. + 

“Tell me about it, can’t you?” he demanded angrily. “One o’ you speak up! Emily Marion⁠—Addison⁠—you wi’ the fat face!” He jerked a contemptuous thumb at Elliman, who went crimson with extreme disgust. “One o’ you tell me the meaning o’ this precious hullaballoo!” + 

Elliman looked across to Sally for help, but did not get it. Instead, she turned her eyes away, ignoring his appeal. + 

“It’s hardly my place to enlighten you, sir,” he said, with an offended shrug, “but I don’t mind telling you the little I know. Apparently your son Geordie is expected soon, and with a fat purse in his pocket to buy him a welcome home.” + 

“Geordie’s coming back, d’ye say?” Simon stared at him with bewildered eyes. + 

“So Mrs. Thornthwaite has given us to understand.” + 

“And wi’ brass? Plenty o’ brass? Geordie wi’ brass?” + 

“Enough and to spare, if all we’re told is true.” + 

“Ay, but that’s just what it isn’t!” Eliza broke out on a peacock scream, and this time Will actually shook her into silence. The poignancy of the moment had hushed the rest of the audience into complete quiet. There was no sound in the room but Eliza’s breathing as Simon turned again to look at his wife. + 

“What’s it all about, Sarah?” he asked quietly, though his voice shook. “You never said nowt about Geordie coming to me.” + 

In the pause that followed Sally drew away from her aunt’s side, as if conscious that this moment was for the two of them alone. The silence waited for Sarah’s answer, but she could not bring herself to speak. In the heat of her victory she had forgotten that Simon also would hear the lying tale. It was the only hitch in the splendid machinery of the lie, but it was enough in itself to bring the whole of it to the ground. Here was Simon in front of her, asking for the truth, and if a hundred Elizas had been present she could still have given him nothing but the truth. But indeed, at that moment, Eliza, and all that Eliza stood for, was swept away. In that hush and sudden confronting of souls Sarah and Simon were indeed alone. + 

“Geordie’s never coming, is he, Sarah?” he asked anxiously. “Nay, you’ve dreamed it, my lass! And he’s rich, d’ye say?⁠—why, that settles it right out! Why, it was nobbut the other day he was writing home for brass!” + 

Still she did not speak, and quite suddenly he was wroth, vexed by her mask-like face and the sudden diminishing of his hope. + 

“Losh, woman!” he cried angrily. “You look half daft! Is yon lad of ours coming, or is he not? Is it truth you’re telling me, or a pack o’ lies?” + 

She stirred then, moved by the cheated sound in his angry voice. She gave a sigh. The fooling of Eliza had been utterly great and glorious, but it had come to an end. “It was just lies,” she heard herself saying in a passionless tone, and then with a last twinge of regret, she sighed again. + 

Eliza’s scream of “I knew it! I knew it!” merged in the chorus of exclamation from the group about the door. Will said nothing, fixing his sister-in-law with his kindly gaze, but Simon fell back muttering, and staring as if afraid. He wondered, looking at her unemotional face, whether the trouble about her eyes was beginning to touch her brain. She herself had said there was no knowing what blind weather might possibly do, no telling what a blind body’s brain might someday suddenly breed.⁠ ⁠… + 

He came back to the consciousness of Eliza’s voice as a man from the dead hears the roar of life as he returns. + 

“I wonder you’re not struck down where you stand, Sarah Thornthet! I wonder you’re not liggin’ dead on t’floor! But you’ll be punished for it, right enough; you’ll be paid for it, never fear! You’ll see, summat’ll happen to you afore so long⁠—I shouldn’t wonder if it happened before morn! Like enough, the next news as we have o’ Geordie’ll be as he’s dead or drowned.⁠ ⁠… I’ll serve you a slap on t’lugs, Will, if you can’t shape to let me be!” + 

It was Sally who saved the situation for the second time that day. + 

“Fetch the trap, Uncle Simon, and look sharp about it!” she commanded smartly, “and you come and set down, Aunt Sarah, until it’s round. Let her be, can’t you!” she added roughly, flinging round on her mother. “She’s that tired and put out she don’t know what’s she’s at.” + 

She shook her fist at the window, and the faces disappeared like morning frost. Then she turned on the others and ordered them out, too. + 

“You’d best be getting about your business!” she commanded them, hand on hip. “You should be in t’dairy this minute, Mary Phyllis⁠—you know that as well as me. I’d think shame o’ myself, Mr. and Mrs. Addison, to be helping other folks’ wi’ their weekly wash! Same to you, Elliman Wilkinson, and a bit over, come to that! You’re not one o’ the family yet by a long chalk, my lad; nay, nor like to be, neither, if you don’t see to mend your ways!” + 

Eliza still lingered, however, loth that anything should be left unsaid, but Sally ushered her resolutely to the door. She protested to the last inch, and the hand that had been denied judgment on Sarah flew up and slapped Sally’s face. The girl looked at her with scornful eyes. + 

“Ay, you can’t keep your hands off folk, can you?” she said bitterly. “You never could. I remember Jim saying he fair hated you for it when we were bairns. That was why he always liked Aunt Sarah a deal better than he liked you!” + 

“You’ll find other folk free wi’ their hands,” Eliza stormed, “if you’re that free wi’ your impident tongue! Yon fool of an Elliman’ll stand no nonsense, for all he looks so new-milk soft! Not that he wants any truck wi’ you at all, as far as I can see. It’s Mary Phyllis he can’t take his eyes off, and no wonder, neither. She was always a sight better-looking than you, and she’s younger, by a deal. You’re that old and teptious you fair turn the cream sour just by being along wi’t in t’house! Nay, I reckon you can put wedding and suchlike out o’ your head as soon as you like! You’ll never have a house of your own, or a man to put in it; and as for bairns o’ your own to slap, why, you’ll never have none o’ them⁠ ⁠… !” + 

She said the rest to the closed door, a stout, oaken door which even she was reluctant to attack. In the few pauses that she allowed herself she could hear nothing inside the room, and presently, tiring of the one-sided contest, she waddled heavily away along the passage. She was in the dairy a minute later, and saw through the window the brothers yoking the old horse. Through the window, too, she caught scraps of their talk, and strained her ears eagerly to catch its bent. As if by magic the anger left her face, and a little smile grew happily on her lips. She even hummed a little tune to herself, as she watched and listened, leaning against the frame.⁠ ⁠… + 

The silence persisted in the room that she had left, as if the air was so laden with words that it would hold no more. Sarah groped her way to the rocking-chair and sat down again to wait. Sally went to the window, and stared miserably into the yard. So they waited together until they heard the rattle of the wheels along the stones.⁠ ⁠… + 