“Here be I blusterin’ like a gert bully now! Doan’t be feared, Phoebe. Forgive my noise. You mean so well, but you caan’t hide your secrets, fortunately. Bless your purty eyes—tu gude for me, an’ allus was, braave li’l woman!
“But no more of that—no seekin’ him, an’ no speech with him, if that’s the way your poor, silly thought was. My bones smart to think of you bearin’ any of it. But doan’t you put no oar into this troubled water, else the bwoat’ll capsize, sure as death. I’ve promised ’e not to say a word till arter New Year; now you must promise me never, so help you, to speak to that man, or look at un, or listen to a word from un. Fly him like you would the devil; an’ a gude second to the devil he is—if ’t is awnly in the matter o’ patience. Promise now.”
“You ’m so hasty, Will. You doan’t onderstand a woman’s cleverness in such matters. ’T is just the fashion thing as shaws what we ’m made of.”
“Promise!” he thundered angrily. “Now, this instant moment, in wan word.”
She gave him a single defiant glance. Then the boldness of her eyes faded and her lips drooped at the corners.
“I promise, then.”
“I should think you did.”
A few minutes later Will was gone, and Phoebe dabbed her moist eyes and blamed herself for so clumsily revealing her great intention,—to see John Grimbal and plead with him. This secret ambition was now swept away, and she knew not where to turn or how to act for her husband.
CHAPTER XII
NEW YEAR’S EVE AND NEW YEAR’S DAY
From this point in his career Will Blanchard, who lacked all power of hiding his inner heart, soon made it superficially apparent that new troubles had overtaken him. No word concerning his intolerable anxieties escaped him, but a great cloud of tribulation encompassed every hour, and was revealed to others by increased petulance and shortness of temper. This mental friction quickly appeared on the young man’s face, and his habitual expression of sulkiness which formerly belied him, now increased and more nearly reflected the reigning temperament of Blanchard’s mind. His nerves were on the rack and he grew sullen and fretful. A dreary expression gained upon his features, an expression sad as a winter twilight brushed with rain. To Phoebe he seldom spoke of the matter, and she soon abandoned further attempts to intrude upon his heart though her own was breaking for him. Billy Blee and the farm hands were Will’s safety-valve. One moment he showered hard and bitter words; the next, at sight of some ploughboy’s tears or older man’s reasonable anger, Will instantly relented and expressed his sorrow. The dullest among them grew in time to discern matters were amiss with him, for his tormented mind began to affect his actions and disorder the progress of his life. At times he worked laboriously and did much with his own hands that might have been left to others; but his energy was displayed in a manner fitful and spasmodic; occasionally he would vanish altogether for four-and-twenty hours or more; and none knew when he might appear or disappear.