Again there was a silence.
So then he turned to Gentleman. 'Will you,' he said, and all the rest of it— 'Will you have her and honour her, for as long as you live?'
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'I will,' said Gentleman.
The parson nodded. Then he faced Maud, and asked the same thing of her; and she hesitated, then spoke.
'I will,' she said.
Then Gentleman stood a little easier. The parson stretched his throat from his collar and scratched it.
'Who gives this woman to be married?' he said.
I kept quite still, till Gentleman turned to me; and then he gestured with his head, and I went and stood at Maud's side, and they showed me how I must take her hand and pass it to the parson, for him to put it into Gentleman's. I would rather Mrs Cream had done it, than almost anything. Her fingers, without
her glove, were stiff and cold as fingers made of wax. Gentleman held them, and spoke the words the parson read to him; and then Maud took his hand, and said the same words over. Her voice was so thin, it seemed to rise like smoke into the darkness, and then to vanish.
Then Gentleman brought a ring out, and he took her hand again and put the ring over her finger, all the time repeating the parson's words, that he would worship her, and give her all his goods. The ring looked queer upon her. It seemed gold in the candle- light, but— I saw it later— it was bad.
It was all bad, and couldn't have been worse. The parson read another prayer, then raised his hands and closed his eyes.
'These two that God has joined together,' he said, 'let no man put in sunder.'
And that was it.
They were married.
Gentleman kissed her and she stood and swayed, as if dazed. Mrs Cream said in a murmur,
'She don't know what've hit her, look at her. She'll know it later— plum feller like him.
Heh heh.'
I did not turn to her. If I had, I should have punched her. The parson shut his Bible and led us from the altar to the room where they kept the register. Here Gentleman wrote his name and Maud— who was now to be Mrs Rivers— wrote hers; and Mrs Cream and I put ours beneath them. Gentleman had already shown me how to write Smith; but still, I wrote it clumsily and was ashamed.— Ashamed, of that! The room was dark and smelled of damp. In the beams, things fluttered— perhaps birds, perhaps bats.
I saw Maud gazing at the shadows, as if afraid the things should swoop.
Gentleman took her arm and held it, and then he led her from the church. There had come clouds before the moon, and the night was darker. The parson shook hands with us, then made Maud a bow; then he went off. He went fast, and as he walked he took his robe off, and his clothes were black beneath it— he seemed to snuff himself out like a light. Mrs Cream took us to her
cottage. She carried the lantern, and we walked behind her, stumbling on her path: her doorway was low, and knocked Gentleman's hat off. She took us up a set of tilting stairs too narrow for our skirts, and then to a landing, about as big as a cupboard, where we all jostled about for a moment and the cuff of Maud's cloak got laid upon 101
the chimney of the lantern and was singed.
There were two shut doors there, leading to the two little bedrooms of the house. The first had a narrow straw mattress on a pallet on the floor, and was for me. The second had a bigger bed, an arm-chair and a press, and was for Gentleman and Maud. She went into it, and stood with her eyes on the floor, looking at nothing. There was a single candle lit. Her bags lay beside the bed. I went to them and took her things out, one by one, and put them in the press. Mrs Cream said, 'What handsome linen!'— -She was watching from the door. Gentleman stood with her, looking strange. It was him that had taught me the handling of a petticoat but now, seeing me take out Maud's shimmies and stockings, he seemed almost afraid. He said,
'Well, I shall smoke a final cigarette downstairs. Sue, you'll make things comfortable up here?'
I did not answer. He and Mrs Cream went down, their boots sounding loud as thunder and the door and the boards and the crooked staircase trembling. I heard him outside then, striking a match.
I looked at Maud. She was still holding the stalks of honesty. She took a step towards me and said quickly,
'If I should call out to you later, will you come?'
I took the flowers from her, and then the cloak. I said, 'Don't think of it; It will be over in a minute.'
She caught hold of my wrist with her right hand, that still had the glove upon it. She said, 'Listen to me, I mean it. Never mind what he does. If I call out to you, say you'll come. I'll give you money for it.'
Her voice was strange. Her fingers shook, yet gripped me hard. The thought of her giving me so much as a farthing was awful. I said,
'Where are your drops? Look, there's water here, you might take your drops and they will make you sleep.'
'Sleep?' she said. She laughed and caught her breath. 'Do you think I want to sleep, on my wedding- night?'
She pushed my hand away. I stood at her back and began to undress her. When I had taken her gown and her corset I turned and said, quietly,
'You had better use the pot. You had better wash your legs, before he comes.'
I think she shuddered. I did not watch her, but heard the splash of water. Then I combed her hair. There was no glass for her to stand at, and when she got into the bed she looked to her side and there was no table, no box, no portrait, no light— I saw her put out her hand as if blind.
Then the house-door closed, and she fell back and seized the blankets and pulled them high about her breast. Against the white of the pillow her face seemed dark; yet I knew that it was pale. We heard Gentleman and Mrs Cream, talking together in the room below. Their voices came clearly. There were gaps between the boards, and a faint light showed.
I looked at Maud. She met my gaze. Her eyes were black, but gleamed like glass.
'Will you look away, still?' she said, in a whisper, when she saw me turn my head.
Then I turned back. I could not help it, though her face was awful, it was terrible to 102
see. Gentleman talked on. Some breeze got into the room and made the candle- flame dip. I shivered. Still she held my gaze with hers. Then she spoke again.
'Come here,' she said.
I shook my head. She said it again. I shook my head again— but then went to her, anyway— went softly to her across the creaking boards, and she lifted her arms and drew my face to hers, and kissed me. She kissed me, with her sweet mouth, made salt with her tears; and I could not help but kiss her back— felt my heart, now like ice in my breast, and now like water, running, from the heat of her lips.
But then she did this. She kept her fingers upon my head and pushed my mouth too hard against hers; and she seized my hand
and took it, first to her bosom, then to where the blankets dipped, between her legs.
There she rubbed with my fingers until they burned.
The quick, sweet feeling her kiss had called up in me turned to something like horror, or fear. I pulled from her, and drew my hand away. 'Won't you do it?' she said softly, reaching after me. 'Didn't you do it before, for the sake of this night? Can't you leave me to him now, with your kisses on my mouth, your touch upon me, there, to help me bear his the better?— Don't go!' She seized me again. 'You went, before. You said I dreamed you. I'm not dreaming now. I wish I were! God knows, God knows, I wish I were dreaming, and might wake up and be at Briar again!'
Her fingers slipped from my arm and she fell back and sagged against her pillow; and I stood, clasping and unclasping my hands, afraid of her look, of her words, of her rising voice; afraid she might shriek, or swoon— afraid, God damn me! that she might cry out, loud enough for Gentleman or Mrs Cream to hear, that I had kissed her.