The others looked at him in surprise. "I'll always be thinking of what you was," he added hastily.
Sabina's face clouded, but only for a moment. "Let's make the best of things," she said. "I'm goin' to forget about them times, I'm goin' to live for the moment."
"I'm not one as forgets," said Leadville heavily.
Revived by food and rest Sabina was soon impatient to begin a further progress. She trundled herself into the linhay to inspect the milk and butter; then into the two seldom-used rooms known as the Big and Little Parlour. Beyond them lay the wide shallow stairs, the door into the front part of the house and the long Justice Room.
Mrs. Tom threw open the door of this and Sabina, pushing the trolly in, uttered an exclamation of pleasure. The litter of agricultural implements, broken harness, bags and boxes, had been cleared away, the grates had been blacked and the panelled wall painted a shadowy grey. Between the two fireplaces stood a large bed, the posts of which were carved with corn, fruit and other emblems of fertility. On it lay a patchwork quilt, the work of Sabina's grandmother. Drift-wood fires flamed under the white marble mantelpieces and the coverlet shone with the glistening silks of other days. The spacious room with its white-hung bed and its white curtains, smelt of the sea and Sabina turned and smiled at her husband.
"'Av you moved your clothes down?" she asked.
"Not that I know of."
"Well, you better make 'aste an' do't."
Looking past her into the beautiful room he thought dimly that it was too large. "I shent like it down 'ere," he said and something ancestral moved in him, assuring him that the upper parts of a house, the upper branches, were secure from the marauding enemy, the terror by night. "Never sleeped on the ground-floor."
Laying a hand affectionately on his shoulder, the woman looked into his face with a touch of softening and appeal. Surely he would not leave her to sleep there alone?