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Updated: May 31, 2025
The thing that had happened, however, since her husband's departure and John Grimbal's arrival, remained happily hidden from Phoebe until next morning, by which time a climax in affairs was past and the outcome of tragic circumstances fully known. When Blanchard left the farm, he turned his steps very slowly homewards, and delayed some minutes on Rushford Bridge before appearing to his mother.
Under the raw smell of burnt powder Major Tremayne took leave of Grimbal and the rest; each man went his way; and John, pursuing a bridle-path through the marshes of the Taw, proceeded slowly to his appointment. An unexpected spring retarded Grimbal's progress and made a considerable detour necessary.
Phoebe Blauchard hastened home, meanwhile, and kept her own counsel upon the subject of the dawn's sensational incidents. Her first instinct was to tell her husband everything at the earliest opportunity, but Will had departed to his work before she reached the farm, and on second thoughts she hesitated to speak or give John Grimbal's message. She feared to precipitate the inevitable.
John Grimbal's days were spent between the Red House and Monks Barton. His rod was put up; but he had already made friends and now shot many partridges. He spent long evenings in the society of Phoebe and her father at the farm; and the miller not seldom contrived to be called away on these occasions.
'S truth!" he continued, with a gesture of supreme irritation, "but it's a hard thing to be snatched apart like this man an' wife. If I was takin' 'e home to some lew cot, all our very awn, how differ'nt 't would be!" "You will some day." "So I will then. I've got 'e for all time, an' Jan Grimbal's missed 'e for all time. Damned if I ban't a'most sorry for un!" "So am I, in a way, as you are.
Only an orchard hedge now separated them, and he might have listened to Phoebe's soft speech had he crept ten yards nearer, while John Grimbal's voice he could not help hearing from time to time. The big man was just asking a question not easy to answer, when an unexpected interruption saved Phoebe from the difficulty of any reply.
Roots meant cover for partridges in John Grimbal's mind; beech and oak in autumn represented desirable food for pheasants; and corn, once garnered and out of the way, left stubble for all manner of game. Meantime, whilst he reviewed his future with his eyes on a blue cloud of tobacco smoke, Martin passed Phoebe Lyddon farther down the valley.
Grimbal's like to take law into his awn hands, as any man of noble nature might in this quandary." The disappointed lover's probable actions offered dreary food for thought, and the two old men were still conversing when a maid entered to lay the cloth for supper. Then Billy proceeded to the village and Mr.
For a moment he had feared that the man knew something; but now he began to suspect Grimbal's question to be what in reality it was casual interrogation, without any shadow of knowledge behind it. Hicks therefore breathed again and trusted that his own emotion had not been very apparent.
With these and a letter she presently despatched a maid to Mr. Grimbal's temporary address. Phoebe's note explained how, weak and friendless until the sudden return of Will into her life, she had been thrown upon wickedness, falsehood, and deceit to win her own salvation in the face of all about her.
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