“There’s nothing to tell, dear; John Raikes has sent no word,” he replied. He tried to take her hand, but she drew a little away from him.
“Well, I can find out elsewhere; I thought I’d ask you first,” she said, in the same cold tone. “Come, let’s get back.”
“Wait a bit, dearie,” he said dejectedly, and at that she turned quickly round on him.
“Oh, I wait too much; it’s all waiting with us women. I waited in Wadsworth, before leaving all of a sudden. I’m to wait again now. Your tidings are public enough for a parson to preach about, but I’m not to be trusted, it seems. The only thing I’ve ever asked you for, too—a ring to wed me right—I must wait for that an’ all. Ay, we have need to be patient.”
“I don’t want you to wait another day before you come to our own house that you asked for, Cicely.”
“Our own house: but when I asked for that I asked you to turn to your engraving again, and buy me a ring I shouldn’t shame to wear, and be honest wi’ me as I am wi’ you. We spoil you wi’ waiting your pleasure, all of us, and I’m glad I came out to-night. I’m glad, because I can tell you this: I’ll come, perhaps, by and by. I’ll have a real husband or none. Look, there’s your ring. If I’m to have a husband o’ Sally’s sort, very well; me and Sally’ll wait together.”
He had turned pale. “You can’t mean, Cicely——?”
“Nay, that’s all past. I’ve thought over this. You tell me nothing, but I can guess what you dread for Jim and Sally—I can tell it by your face now. And I’m to leave her!... Nay, I’d rather leave my husband than have him ta’en from me. I’ll lie wi’ Sally to-night; you’ll be foolish to follow me. Keep your ring—it will melt up into something. I’ve waited; the little house can wait now.”
She was on her feet. “Cicely!” he cried, but she was gone. He half rose as if to follow her, then he sank back again. The going down of the sun found him still on the bank of the dried-up stream.
The very trade of the town was at a standstill on account of the new trial. It was fixed for the seventh, a Friday, and loungers in the market-place exchanged odd guilty looks and glanced at the grimy cactus-pattern of chimney-flues on the end of the “Cross Pipes”—for with the fixing of the date it had been impossible to keep the news any longer from Sally, and she had broken down and taken to her bed, where Cicely tended her. Another man was sent off to York to see what had become of John Raikes, and a number of Back o’ th’ Mooiners remained in Horwick to see what might befall. The door of the loom-loft at the “Fullers’ Arms,” within which Ellah had shut himself, had been forced, and Ellah had been discovered cowering in a corner and swallowing a guinea; and it was passed about that Ellah had guineas. They had locked him in the loft again and barred the window; but a bright flame had shone out into the Fullergate towards evening, and they had hastily entered again. He had collected a quantity of rubbish under the loom and had tried to set fire to it. They removed all that was loose and combustible. Friday morning broke; it might have been a Sabbath for all the work men offered to do; and they moved silently about the market-place, waiting, scarce entering their houses for their meals. The day wore to evening.