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Updated: May 26, 2025
For years I had never a clue: and then, by Sheba Farm, in a forsaken angle of the coast, surprised the secret. Sheba Farm stands high above Ruan sands, over which its windows flame at sunset. And I sat in the farm kitchen drinking cider and eating potato-cake, while the farmer's wife, Mrs. Bolverson, obligingly attended to my coat, which had just been soaked by a thunder-shower.
Gedye, the fact is I am curious about an old charm that was practised in these parts, as I know, till recently. The charm is this When a woman guesses her lover to be faithless to her, she buries a suit of his old clothes to fetch him back to her. Mrs. Bolverson, up at Sheba yonder " But as Mrs. Bolverson's name escaped me, she turned her back, and walked straight to her door and into the kitchen.
You don't know; but, by the Lord, you shall hear, here where you'm standin', an' shall jedge betwix' me an' that pale 'ooman up yonder. Stand there an' list to me. "He was my lover more'n five-an'-thirty years agone. Who? That 'ooman's wedded man, Seth Bolverson. We warn't married" this with a short laugh. "Wife or less than wife, he found me to his mind.
A bright parallelogram stretched from the window across the white kitchen-table, and reached the dim hollow of the open fire-place. Mrs. "It's uncommonly kind of you, Mrs. Bolverson," said I, as she turned one sleeve of the coat towards the heat. "To be sure, if the women in these parts would speak out, some of them have done more than that for the men with an old coat."
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