Kester spoke.
'It's a thing as can be easy looked into. What day an' time were it
when Philip left this house?' 'Tuesday--the day she died. I saw him in her room that morning
between breakfast and dinner; I could a'most swear to it's being
close after eleven. I mind counting t' clock. It was that very morn
as Kinraid were here.' 'A'll go an' have a pint o' beer at t' King's Arms, down on t'
quay-side; it were theere he put up at. An' a'm pretty sure as he
only stopped one night, and left i' t' morning betimes. But a'll go
see.' 'Do,' said Sylvia, 'and go out through t' shop; they're all watching
and watching me to see how I take things; and daren't let on about
t' fire as is burning up my heart. Coulson is i' t' shop, but he'll
not notice thee like Phoebe.' By-and-by Kester came back. It seemed as though Sylvia had never
stirred; she looked eagerly at him, but did not speak.
'He went away i' Rob Mason's mail-cart, him as tak's t' letters to
Hartlepool. T' lieutenant (as they ca' him down at t' King's Arms;
they're as proud on his uniform as if it had been a new-painted sign
to swing o'er their doors), t' lieutenant had reckoned upo' stayin'
longer wi' 'em; but he went out betimes o' Tuesday morn', an' came
back a' ruffled up, an paid his bill--paid for his breakfast, though
he touched noane on it--an' went off i' Rob postman's mail-cart, as
starts reg'lar at ten o'clock. Corneys has been theere askin' for
him, an' makin' a piece o' work, as he niver went near em; and they
bees cousins. Niver a one among 'em knows as he were here as far as
a could mak' out.' 'Thank yo', Kester,' said Sylvia, falling back in her chair, as if
all the energy that had kept her stiff and upright was gone now that
her anxiety was relieved.
She was silent for a long time; her eyes shut, her cheek laid on her
child's head. Kester spoke next.
'A think it's pretty clear as they'n niver met. But it's a' t' more
wonder where thy husband's gone to. Thee and him had words about it,
and thou telled him thy mind, thou said?' 'Yes,' said Sylvia, not moving. 'I'm afeared lest mother knows what
I said to him, there, where she's gone to--I am-' the tears filled
her shut eyes, and came softly overflowing down her cheeks; 'and yet
it were true, what I said, I cannot forgive him; he's just spoilt my
life, and I'm not one-and-twenty yet, and he knowed how wretched,
how very wretched, I were. A word fra' him would ha' mended it a';
and Charley had bid him speak the word, and give me his faithful
love, and Philip saw my heart ache day after day, and niver let on
as him I was mourning for was alive, and had sent me word as he'd
keep true to me, as I were to do to him.' 'A wish a'd been theere; a'd ha' felled him to t' ground,' said
Kester, clenching his stiff, hard hand with indignation.