On Clare's return to his horse
and gig, Izz jumped up beside him.
"I am going to leave England, Izz," he said, as they drove on.
"Going to Brazil."
"And do Mrs Clare like the notion of such a journey?" she asked.
"She is not going at present--say for a year or so. I am going out
to reconnoitre--to see what life there is like."
They sped along eastward for some considerable distance, Izz making
no observation.
"How are the others?" he inquired. "How is Retty?"
"She was in a sort of nervous state when I zid her last; and so thin
and hollow-cheeked that 'a do seem in a decline. Nobody will ever
fall in love wi' her any more," said Izz absently.
"And Marian?"
Izz lowered her voice.
"Marian drinks."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. The dairyman has got rid of her."
"And you!"
"I don't drink, and I bain't in a decline. But--I am no great things
at singing afore breakfast now!"
"How is that? Do you remember how neatly you used to turn ''Twas
down in Cupid's Gardens' and 'The Tailor's Breeches' at morning
milking?"
"Ah, yes! When you first came, sir, that was. Not when you had been
there a bit."
"Why was that falling-off?"
Her black eyes flashed up to his face for one moment by way of
answer.
Pages:
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446