XII

By the end of September everything was arranged. Dale had ceased to be

postmaster of Rodchurch; the purchase of the business had been

completed; and Mr. Bates had moved out of Vine-Pits to a cottage near

Otterford Mill, leaving behind him the bulk of his furniture as the

property of the incomers. Thus the Dales would have no difficulty in

furnishing the comparatively large house that henceforth was to be

their home.

For the last two days they had been living chaotically in rooms

stripped to a woeful bareness; this morning Mary had gone along the

Hadleigh Road with a wagon full of bedsteads, bedding, and household

utensils; and now, late in the afternoon, the wagon stood at the post

office door again, packed this time with a final load consisting of

those treasures which had been held back for transit under their

owners' charge.

Mavis had already climbed up, and was settling herself on a high

valley of rolled carpets between two mountain ranges formed by the

piano and the parlor bookcases. With anxious eyes she looked at minor

chains of packing-cases that contained the best china, the mantel

ornaments, the hand-painted pictures. Inside a basket on her knees

their cat was mewing disconsolately, despite well-buttered paws. The

two big horses, one in front of the other, continuously tinkled the

metal disks on their forehead bands; Mr. Allen and other neighbors

came out of their shops; Miss Yorke and the clerks from the office

filled the pavement; children gathered about the wagon staring

silently, and Miss Waddy on the opposite pavement waved her

handkerchief and said "Oh, dear! oh, dear!"

"Good luck!"

"Thank you, thank you kindly." Dale moved about briskly, shaking hands

with every one. Already he had abandoned all trace of his ancient

official costume. In cord breeches and leather gaiters, his straw hat

on the back of his head, he looked thoroughly farmer-like, and he

seemed to have assumed the jovial independent manner as well as the

clothes appropriate to the man who has no other master but the winds

and the weather.

"So long, Mr. Allen. Put in a good word for me at the Kennels."

"I will so, Mr. Dale."

"Good-by, Mr. Silcox. Hope you'll honor us with a call whenever you're

passing. And if you can, give me a lift in the _Courier_. I may say

it's my intention to patronize their advertisement columns regular,

soon's ever I begin to feel my feet under me."

"See _Rodchurch Gossip_ next issue," said Mr. Silcox significantly.

"Thanks. You're a trump."

"Good-by, Miss Yorke." And he laughed. "'Pon my soul, I'm surprised

it's still _Miss_ Yorke; but it'll be _Mrs._ before long, I warrant."

"Oh, Mr. Dale!"

"There, so long," and he shook Miss Yorke's hand warmly. "And take my

excuse if I bin a bit of a slave-driver now and then. I didn't mean

it."

"We've no complaints," said one of the clerks. "Good luck, sir!"

Then Dale told his carter to make a start of it, and the wagon

creaked, jolted, slowly lumbered away.

Though they moved at a foot pace, it was not easy traveling in the

wagon; the china boxes bumped and rattled, the piano swayed so much

that all its strings vibrated, and the cat leaped frantically in the

basket; but Mavis felt no inconvenience. She was full of hope. For

more than a mile Dale walked beside the shaft horse, echoing the "Coom

in then" and "Oot thar" of the man with the leader, and the sound of

the voices, the plod of the iron shoes, and the bell-like tinkle of

the harness were all pleasant to hear. The whole thing seemed to her

picturesque and interesting, like a small episode in the Old

Testament, and imaginary words offered themselves as suitable to

describe it. "Therefore that day her husband gathered all that was

theirs, and set her behind his horses and they journeyed into another

place."

She smiled at her cleverness in inventing such good Bible language,

and then the thought came to her mind that they were going into the

promised land. Once she turned her head to get a last glimpse of the

church tower, and perhaps be able to pick out the roof of the post

office among the other roofs, but the high mass of furniture shut out

all the view. Only the sky was visible, with the sun quite low, and so

bright that it was almost blinding. And she thought that this chance

of the hour being late and the sun being nearly down was a lucky omen.

Straight ahead of them the road was sunlit, and the long slanting

sunbeams appeared to hurry on before them as if to light up and

glorify the land of promise. "If," she said to herself, "we get there

before it has dipped and I catch the sunshine on the ricks, I shall

know we are going to be happy."

Then all at once she saw Dale's straw hat and face rise above the fore

boards of the wagon. He had swung himself on the shaft to see how she

was getting on.

"All right, old lady?"

"Yes--lovely."

The tone of his voice had made her heart bound. It was the dear old

voice, speaking to her just as he used to speak before their bad time

began.

"We'll be there sooner than you know where you are. I think I'll rest

my bones a bit."

Then he got into the wagon, and carefully clambering over impediments

came toward her. For a moment as he stood over her the sunlight was on

his face, and she, looking up at him, thought that he was not only a

fine but quite a beautiful man. The light seemed to soften and yet

ennoble his features, and his eyes, unblinking in the glare, were blue

and clear as water. When he sat down close to her little nest she

pushed the basket away from her, and raising her hand laid it on his

knees. To her delight he put his hand on hers, and left it there. He

was in shadow now, showing a dark profile, and again she admired

him--her strong, big, handsome man, her man that she was pining for.

"Will," she said tremulously, "don't move, but just look behind you,

and tell me all you see."

"I don't see anything, Mav, unless I heft meself up again."

"No, sit as you are. It just bears out what you said. We're never more

to look back. We're only to look forward. Will?"

He had taken his hand away, and turned the back of his head toward

her.

"Will," she repeated; but he did not answer. "Will, my dear one, this

_is_ going to be a fresh start, isn't it? Like a new beginning for

us."

"Yes," he said, very seriously, "that's what I build on its being.

Take it so. You and I are beginning life again in our new home."

"Bless you for saying it. The one thing I wished to hear."

"Yes, we must help each other. I'll do--I mean to do. But, maybe,

it'll be more 'v o' fight than I'm reckoning, and there's a many ways

that you can make the fight easier--beyond the one great thing you've

done a'ready."

"I will, dear. I will."

Then they were silent. The carter cracked his whip, shouted to his

team, and whistled; and the horses, neither frightened by the whip nor

excited by the whistling, drew the big wagon at exactly the same

steady pace.

And Mavis felt as if her throat had suddenly enlarged itself and

become too big for her collar, while her whole breast was swelling and

hardening until it seemed so rigidly immense that it would burst all

her garments; it was as if her whole being, together with all the

thoughts or memories that it contained felt the expansion of some

force that had been long gathering and now swiftly was released. In

all her life she had experienced no such sensations hitherto. She who

had been passive under the desires of others now felt desire active in

herself. It was not only that she wanted pardon, kindness,

companionship, the things that she had been so systematically deprived

of; she wanted the man himself, the partner, and the mate to whom

nature had given her a right.

Abruptly she changed her position, scrambling forward close against

him, and put up both her hands to his shoulders.

"Will, stoop your head. I want to whisper something."

Then, as soon as he bent toward her, she clasped her hands behind his

neck and tried to drag him down in a kiss.

"What yer doin'? Let me be."

"No, I won't. I won't." She was holding him with all her strength,

pulling herself up since she could not pull him down. "Be nice to me."

And as he recoiled she thrust forward her upturned face, the cheeks

hard and white, the eyes burning, the mouth not quite closing even

while she spoke. "I won't let you go, till you've kissed me and made

it up for good an' all."

She was acting now as instinctively as any wild animal of the woods.

What had started in the zone of voluntary impulse had now passed into

the ruling power of reflexes; every nerve of her body seemed to be

thinking for itself, guiding her, and compelling her to struggle for

the desired end. All this nonsense of high-falutin' morality must be

swept aside; if he loved her still, he must admit that he loved her;

it must be love or hate, but no more sham and pretense, no more of

these half measures that made her a wife when people were looking, and

an enemy, a culprit in disgrace, or a sexless business associate, when

they two were alone behind drawn blinds.

"Mav, you're shaming me. 'A' done. 'Aarve you tekken leave o' yer

senses?"

She felt him shiver as he resisted her; then in another moment he

gripped her round the waist as brutally and violently as if he

intended to pitch her out of the wagon, held her to him so fiercely

that he crushed all the breath from her lungs, and gave her a long

passionate mouth-to-mouth kiss. And it seemed to her that the strength

and brutality of the embrace formed the one supreme gratification that

she had been burning to obtain; she wanted to give herself to him as

she had never done before, and if he crushed her and broke her and

killed her in their joint rapture, she would drink death greedily as

something inevitable to all those who empty the deep goblet of love.

"There!" He took his lips away, and she sank back gasping. "You've 'ad

yer way wi' me;" and he heaved a sigh that was as loud as a groan.

"Oh, Mav, my girl, gi' me yer kisses--kiss me all night and all

day--if on'y you make me forget."

Her hat had tumbled off in the struggle, a mesh of brown hair was

dangling over her shoulder, and she was still too much out of breath

to speak. The wagon rolled heavily forward along the flat road, and

the carter cracked his whip continuously to tell the horses they were

nearly home. Presently Mavis got up, perched herself beside her

husband, and whispered to him jerkily.

"You've nothing to forget, dear. No looking back. But, oh, my darling,

I'm going to be more than I ever was to you. I feel it. I _know_

it--an' we'll be happy, happy, happy, so long as we live."

She pressed her face against the sleeve of his jacket, and stroked his

knee with as much luxurious pleasure as if the rough cord breeches had

been made of the softest satin velvet.

"See. Look straight ahead," and she raised her hand and pointed.

Vine-Pits Farm was in sight. The stone house, the barns, the straw

ricks, and the fruit trees all seeming to have clustered close

together, to form a compact little kingdom of hope and joy.

"Look, dear. How pretty--see the sunlight on the roofs and on the

ricks. That's luck. All the straw is changing into gold. My old Will

is going to make heaps of golden sovereigns as big as any rick."

"Woo then. A-oo then." The carter stopped the horses outside the

garden entrance. "Will the missis get down here at th' front door, or

be us to go on into yaard?"

Mrs. Dale got down here, took the cat-basket from her husband, and

went gaily up the path to the open front door.

"Don't let th' cat loose," Dale called after her warningly, "or she'll

be back to Rodchurch like a streak o' greased lightning. She'll need

acclim'tyzing all to-morrow."

Mavis ran through the house to the kitchen, where Mary and a

courtesying old woman received her. Then she scampered from room to

room, uttering little cries of contentment. Often as she had seen and

admired the house during the last few weeks, it had never seemed so

perfectly delightful as it did to-day: with its low-ceiled cozy little

rooms at the back, its high and imposing rooms in front, its broad

staircase and square landing, it would be quite a little palace when

all had been set to rights.

Coming hurrying back to the hall, she saw her husband in the porch, a

splendid dark figure with the last rays of yellow sunlight behind him.

He paused bare-headed on the threshold, obviously not aware of her

presence, and she was about to speak to him when he startled her by

dropping on his knees and praying aloud.

"O merciful Powers, give me grace and strength to lead a healthy

fearless life in this house."