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Under it the Marsh lay like a land under the sea it must have looked like this when the keels of the French boats swam over it, high above Ansdore, and Brodnyx, and Pedlinge, lying like red apples far beneath, at the bottom of the sea. That was nonsense ... but she could not think this morning, she could only feel. He had not been gone an hour, but she must find him.
Ansdore was a manor now the largest estate not only in Brodnyx and Pedlinge, but on Walland Marsh; indeed the whole of the Three Marshes had little to beat it with. Moreover, Ellen was beginning to get her own way in the house her bedroom was no longer a compulsory bower of roses, but softly cream-coloured and purple-hung.
This liturgical outburst seemed wondrously to heal Joanna it seemed to link her up again with the centre of her religion Brodnyx church, with the big pews, and the hassocks, and the Lion and the Unicorn over the north door she felt readmitted into the congregation of the faithful, and her heart was full of thankfulness and loyalty.
To crown all, there was her father's certificate of enrolment in the Ancient Order of Buffaloes, sacrificed from her own room, and hung proudly in the place of honour over Ellen's bed. Her sister came at Thomas-tide, and Joanna drove in to meet her at Rye. Brodnyx had now a station of its own on the new light railway from Appledore to Lydd, but Joanna was still faithful to Rye.
Joanna was terrified lest he should begin to talk of Martin, so after she had conformed to local etiquette by inquiring after his health and abusing the weather, she offered him the living of Brodnyx with Pedlinge and a slice of cake almost in the same breath. She was surprised and a little hurt when he refused the former.
Not that Joanna could really bring herself to believe that Ellen was truthful in saying she did not care about the show, but she thought it possible that sheer contrariness might keep her away. Ellen was wearing her darkest, demurest clothes, in emphatic contrast to the ribbons and laces in which Brodnyx and Pedlinge usually went to the fair.
Joanna stooped and caught her to her heart, and for a moment, the last moment, the big and the little sister were as in times of old. Ellen's wedding was the most wonderful that Brodnyx and Pedlinge had seen for years.
He could not be said to have done anything so dramatic as to die, though the green marsh-turf of Brodnyx churchyard was broken to make him a bed, and the little bell rocked in the bosom of the drunken Victorian widow who was Brodnyx church steeple, sending a forlorn note out over the Marsh.
Joanna suddenly felt her imagination gloat and kindle at the thought of Brodnyx and Pedlinge compelled to holiness all those wicked old men who wouldn't go to church, but expected their Christmas puddings just the same, those hobbledehoys who loafed against gate-posts the whole of Sunday, those vain hussies who giggled behind their handkerchiefs all the service through it would be fine to see them hustled about and taught their manners ... it would be valiant sport to see them made to behave, as Mr.
She did not meet Martin on the Brodnyx Road; only the wind was with her, and the rain. She turned aside to North Farthing between the Woolpack and the village, and still she did not meet him and now she really thought that she would arrive in time.
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