She was now ready, and all she had to do was to run down and tell Mrs.

Tolhurst that if Mr. Martin called while she was out he was to be asked to wait. She was not really afraid of missing him, for there were few short cuts on the Marsh, where the long way round of the road was often the only way--but she hoped she would reach North Farthing before he left it; she did not want anything to be taken from her surrender, it must be absolute and complete ... the fires of her own sacrifice were kindled and were burning her heart.

--20

She did not meet Martin on the Brodnyx Road; only the wind was with her, and the rain. She turned aside to North Farthing between the Woolpack and the village, and still she did not meet him--and now she really thought that she would arrive in time. On either side of the track she followed, Martin's sheep were grazing--that was his land, those were his d.y.k.es and willows, ahead of her were the lighted windows of his house.

She wondered what he would say when he saw her. Would he be much surprised? She had come to North Farthing once or twice before, but not very often. If he was not surprised to see her, he would be surprised when she told him why she had come. She pictured how he would receive her news--with his arms round her, with his kisses on her mouth.

Her arrival was a check--the formalities of her betrothed's house never failed to upset her. To begin with she had to face that impertinent upstart of a Nell Raddish, all tricked out in a black dress and white ap.r.o.n and cap and collar and cuffs, and she only a cowman's daughter with a face like a plum, and no sense or notions at all till she came to Farthing, since when, as everyone knew, her skirts had grown shorter and her nose whiter and her hair frizzier and her ways more knowing.

"Good evening, Nell," said Joanna, covering her embarra.s.sment with patronage, "is Mr. Martin at home?"

"Yes, he is," said Nell, "he came back this afternoon."

"I know that, of course. I want to see him, please."

"I'm not sure if he's gone up to bed. Come in, and I'll go and look."

"Up to bed!"

"Yes, he's feeling poorly. That's why he came home."

"Poorly, what's the matter?" Joanna pushed past Nell into the house.

"I dunno, a cold or cough. He told me to bring him some tea and put a hot brick in his bed. Sir Harry ain't in yet."

Joanna marched up the hall to the door of Martin's study. She stopped and listened for a moment, but could hear nothing, except the beating of her own heart. Then, without knocking, she went in. The room was ruddy and dim with firelight, and at first she thought it was empty, but the next minute she saw Martin huddled in an armchair, a tea-tray on a low stool beside him.

"Martin!"

He started up out of a kind of sleep, and blinked at her.

"Jo! Is that you?"

"Yes. I've come over to tell you I'll marry you whenever you want.

Martin dear, what's the matter? Are you ill?"

"It's nothing much--I've caught cold, and thought I'd better come home.

Colds always make me feel wretched."

She could see that he was anxious about himself, and in her pity she forgave him for having ignored her surrender. She knelt down beside him and took both his restless hands.

"Have you had your tea, dear?"

"No. I asked her to bring it, and then I sort of fell asleep ..."

"I'll give it to you."

She poured out his tea, giving him a hot black cup, with plenty of sugar, as they liked it on the Marsh. He drank it eagerly, and felt better.

"Jo, how good of you to come over and see me. Who told you I was back?"

"I heard it from Milly Pump, and she heard it from Broadhurst."

"I meant to send a message round to you. I hope I'll be all right to-morrow."

"Reckon you will, dear.... Martin, you heard what I said--about marrying you when you want?"

"Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it--I came over a-purpose to tell you. While you was away I did some thinking, and I found that Ansdore doesn't matter to me what it used. It's only you that matters now."

She was crouching at his feet, and he stooped over her, taking her in his arms, drawing her back between his knees.

"You n.o.ble, beloved thing ..."

The burning touch of his lips and face reminded her that he was ill, so the consecration of her sacrifice lost a little of its joy.

"You're feverish--you should ought to go to bed."

"I'm going--when I've had another cup of tea. Will you give me another, child?"

"I've a mind to go home through Brodnyx and ask Dr. Taylor to call round."

"Oh, I don't think I'm bad enough for a doctor--I catch cold easily, and I was wet through the other night."

"Was it that!" Her voice shook with consternation.

"I expect so--but don't fret, darling Jo. It's nothing. I'll be quite right to-morrow--I feel better already."

"I think you should ought to see a doctor, though. I'll call in on my way back. I'll can in on Mr. Pratt, too, and tell him to start crying us next Sunday."

"That's my business--I'll go to-morrow. But are you sure, darling, you can make such a sacrifice? I'm afraid I've been a selfish beast, and I'm spoiling your plans."

"Oh no, you ain't. I feel now as if I wanted to get married more'n anything wotsumever. The shearing ull do proper--the men know their job--and Broadhurst ull see to the hay. They dursn't muck things up, knowing as I'll be home to see to it by July."

"To say nothing of me," said Martin, pinching her ear.

"To say nothing of you."

"Joanna, you've got on the old hat ..."

"I put it on special."

"Bless you."

He pulled her down to the arm of his chair, and for a moment they huddled together, cheek on cheek. The opening of the door made Joanna spring virtuously upright. It was Sir Harry.