Reuben scarcely knew what brought him to Cheat Land. It was about a week after the blow fell that he found himself treading the once familiar lane, lifting the latch of the garden gate, and knocking at the green house-door. Nothing had changed, except to fade a little and show some signs of wear and tear. Alice herself had not changed, nor had she faded, though her cheeks might have fallen in a trifle and a few lines traced themselves round her mouth.
"Welcome," she said, and laughed.
He took her hand, and forgot to be angry because she had laughed.
"Come in, and we'll have a talk. Father's out, and mother's upstairs."
She led the way into the queer little kitchen, which was also unchanged except for the fading of the curtains,[Pg 323] and the introduction of one or two new books on the shelves. Alice pulled forward his old chair, and sat down opposite him on the settle. She wore one of her long wrapper-pinafores, this time of a warm clay-colour, which seemed to put a glow into her cheeks.
"Well, Alice," he said huskily.
"Well, Reuben, I'm glad to see you."
"You've heard?"
She nodded. Then she said gently:
"Poor Rose."
Reuben flushed.
"One o' my victims, eh?"
"Well, I knew you'd rather I said that than 'poor Reuben.'"
"Reckon I would. I remember as how you wur always trying to make out as my lazy good-fur-naun sons wur my victims, and as how I'd sacrificed them all to my farm; now I reckon you're trying to do the same wud Rose."
"Where is she?"
"I dunno. Somewheres between here and Canada. May she rot there lik a sheep on its back, and her man too. Now say 'poor Rose.'"
He turned on her almost fiercely, his lips curled back from his teeth in a sneer.
"If you speak like that I'll say 'poor Reuben.'"
"Well, say it—you w?an't be far wrong. Wot sort o' chap am I to have pride? My farm's ruined, my wife's run away, my children have left me—wot right have I to be proud?"
"Because, though all those things have happened, you're holding your head up still."
"But I ?un't—yesterday I wur fair crying and sobbing in front of all the children. In the kitchen, it wur—after supper—I put down my head on the table, and——"
[Pg 324]
"Hush, I don't want to hear any more. I can guess what you must have suffered. I expect you miss Rose."
"I do—justabout."
"So should I in your place."
"She wur a beautiful woman, Alice."
Alice nodded.
"Oh, and her liddle dentical ways!"
Alice nodded again.
"You d?an't mind me talking to you of her?"
"No, of course not."
"She wur the beautifullest I've known, and gay, and sweet, and a woman to love. But she deceived me. I married her expecting money, and there wur none—I married her fur her body, and she's given it to another."
"Well, you're not a hypocrite, anyway. You don't pretend you married her for any but the lowest motives."
"Wot should I have married her fur, then?"
"Some people marry for love."
"Love I—no. I've loved but one woman."
"Me!"
They had both said more than they intended, and suddenly realised it. Though the self-betrayal meant most to Alice, she was the first to recover a steady voice.
"But that does not matter now," she said calmly.
He leaned suddenly forward and took her hand.
"Alice."
Her hand lay in his, a very small thing, and her head bent towards it. She did not want him to see her cheeks flush and her eyes fill at this his first caress.
"Alice—how did you know?"
"I'm not a fool."
"I guessed too."
"Of course you did. I—I gave myself away. I pleaded with you."
He raised her hand slowly to his lips.
"I forgot you all the time I wur wud Rose," he remarked naively.
"You needn't tell me that."
"But now I—well, it's too late anyhow. I'm a married man, no matter that my wife's in Canada. Of course, I could git a divorce—but I w?an't."
"No—it would cost money."
"More than I could spare."
Alice laughed.
"I never looked upon Rose as my rival—I always knew my real rival was your farm, and though now Rose is out of the way, that still stands between us."
Reuben was silent. He sat leaning forward in his chair, holding Alice's hand. Then he abruptly rose to his feet.
"Well, I must be going. It's done me good, our talk. Not that you've said anything particular comforting, but then you never did. It's good anyway to sit wud a woman wot's not lik a fat stroked cat—not a thin kicked one, nuther," he added viciously, remembering Caro. "You're lik a liddle tit-bird, Alice. I love you. But I'm not sorry I didn't marry you, for you'd have busted me same as Rose, only in a different way."
"Most likely."
She laughed again. He stooped forward and kissed her forehead, and the laugh died on her lips.