"I hope so," I answered.
His face creased pathetically. " 'Er went away. 'Er didn't tell I. 'Er ought to have told I." Then he was smiling again. "But 'er'll be back. I know it Same as I know when I sends out a bird. 'Er'll come back, I says. 'Er be a homing bird. Our Hetty were a homing bird."
Lightly I touched my horse's flanks. "Well, good day Reuben. I hope you're right."
"Oh, I be right. Miss. I do know. Piskey-mazed, they say I be, but I do have a little more in some ways to make up for it. Our Hetty won't stay away forever."
That June, Mr. Pollent had an accident when out riding; Joe took over the practice completely and there seemed to be no reason why his marriage to Essie should be delayed.
This might have been a little awkward had I allowed it to be. If Joe had done as I wished and become a doctor, the awkward situation would never have arisen; and I could not quite forgive Joe for being the one person to stand out against me. But for him I could have achieved all I set out to do. Joe however was clearly very happy and imagined himself to be the luckiest man alive and when I was with him I always softened towards him. The sight of him dragging his left leg slightly as he walked, brought back memories of that terrible night and how Kim had helped me; that softened me always and set me thinking of Kim and wondering whether he would ever come back.
On the wedding day Mellyora and I drove to the church in one of the Abbas carriages. Granny had been staying at the Pollents' house for the night. The respectability of her grandchildren was even having its effect on Granny, and I believed that before long I should have her living the life of a genteel old lady in some small house on the St. Larnston estate.
As we drove along I noticed that Mellyora looked pale but I did not mention the fact. I could imagine the strain she was undergoing and I promised myself that before long I should have Fanny out of the house.
The church had been decorated for the wedding because the Pollents were a highly respected family. There was a little stir when I took my place with Mellyora for it was rarely that a St. Larnston was a guest at such a wedding. Would they be reminding themselves, I wondered, that I was only Kerensa Bee's granddaughter after all. I fancied, too, that many covert glances were directed towards Mellyora, the parson's daughter who was now nurse to my son.
The wedding ceremony, performed by the Reverend Mr. Hemphill, was soon concluded; and Essie and Joe came out to the vet's carriage which was to take them back to the Pollents' where a feast was waiting for them and the guests.
The traditional rice was flung and the old pair of shoes attached to the carriage. Essie, blushing and giggling, clung to Joe's arm. As for Joe he managed to look both sheepish and proud.
I shrugged my shoulders impatiently, imagining how different this could have been if Joe had been marrying the doctor's daughter.
As we drove back, Mellyora watched me quizzically and asked me of what I was thinking.
"Of the night Joe was caught in the trap," I replied. "He might have died. This wedding would never have taken place but for Kim."
"Dear old Kim!" murmured Mellyora. "How long ago it seems since he was with us."
"Do you never hear from him, Mellyora?" I asked wistfully.
"I've told you that he never writes letters."
"If he ever did ... you would let me know?"
"Of course. But he never will."
The reception was typical of such occasions. The guests filled the Pol-lent parlor, the living room, and the kitchen. The kitchen table was laden with food which the Pollent girls must have been preparing for weeks: cakes and pies—hams, beef, and pork; there were homemade wines—blackberry, elder, gillyflower, parsnip, cowslip, and sloe gin.
The party would be very merry before it was over. There were the usual sly jokes; the expected comments; and several of the men whispered their intention to begin the shallal—without which few weddings in our part of Cornwall were celebrated. This was a so-called band, the sole object of which was to create as much noise as possible. Pans, kettles, tea trays— any implement on which hands could be laid, and with which the maximum noise could be made was brought into use. This was to proclaim to the neighborhood for miles round that two people had married that day.
Joe and Essie accepted all this fuss with pleasure. Essie, threatened with the usual horseplay when it was time to retire, giggled with feigned horror.
At least I should not be present when they dragged her and Joe from their bed and beat them with a stocking filled with sand. I should not be one of those who thought it such a great joke to put a furze bush in the bed.
It was while I sat with Granny and Mellyora and ate the food which the Pollent girls carried round to the guests that I learned of the growing concern in the neighborhood.
Jill Pengert, a housewife with a husband and three sons who were all miners, took a seat beside Granny and earnestly asked her whether there was any truth in the rumors which were going around.
"Be they going to close down the Fedder mine, Mrs. Bee?" asked Jill.
Granny said she hadn't looked that far into the future but knew there was a fear the lode might be running out.
"Where shall we be to if Fedders should close?" demanded Jill. "Think on all the men who'll be without work."
Granny shook her head and as Saul Cundy was standing nearby talking to Tom Pengaster, Jill called out; "Do 'ee know ought about these rumors, Cap'en Saul?"
Saul replied: 'You've heard that the lode be running out, have 'ee? Well, you hain't the first."
"But is it true, Cap'en?"
Saul stared into his sloe gin. He looked as though he knew more than he thought it wise to tell. "Tis the same story all over Cornwall," he said. "These mines have been worked for years. They say there be only so much richness under the soil. Down St. Ives way one or two have already closed down."
"My dear life and soul!" cried Jill. "And what's to become of the likes of we?"
"Reckon every bit of tin 'ull have to be taken out of they mines afore we'll let 'em close," said Saul. 'We won't let any mine be turned into an old scat bal till we be sure every scrap of ore be brought to the surface."
"Bravo!" growled one of the men; and the cry was taken up.
Saul was a man who would fight for his rights, and those of others. I wondered if he had recovered from the shock of Hetty Pengaster's flight to London when he had planned to marry her. He would, I imagined, be the kind of man who was more interested in fighting for the rights of the miners than settling down and marrying.
Thinking of Hetty I did not hear his next comment until the words "St. Larnston mine" attracted me.
"Ay," he went on, "we'll have no idle mine. If there be tin in Cornwall, hungry men will want to bring it up."
I could feel eyes turning towards me and was aware of the signs which were being flashed to Saul.
He put down his glass suddenly and walked away.
"I hadn't heard this rumor about the possibility of Fedders closing down," I whispered to Granny.
"I've been hearing rumors since I was so-size," answered Granny, holding her hand about a foot above the ground.
That pronouncement of hers and my presence seemed to put an end to the subject—or at least I did not hear it mentioned again.
After Joe's wedding, events began to crowd one on another leading up to that climax which would haunt me for the rest of my days.
I watched Fanny constantly so that I should not lose my opportunity of catching her.
The day came when I was successful.
Dinner was always a rather formal meal at the Abbas. We dressed, not elaborately, but in what we called semi-evening dress. I had bought a few simple dresses, subduing my natural love of color; I always enjoyed these meals because they gave me a chance to show how easily and naturally I had adjusted myself since my rise from the kitchen to the dining room.