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Updated: May 7, 2025
For Mrs. Penticost's cob, a nervous, spirited creature, newly broken in, was between the shafts. "Will he speak yet?" thought Blanche; "and if he does, what shall I say?" She glanced up at the set, earnest face, and, sensitive to her look, his eyes met hers. He averted his gaze quickly, but his heart sang, "She cares! she cares!"
She must have had so much to suffer from undue approaches in her battle with the world; not from him should such tarnishing come. He sent a note down to her at Mrs. Penticost's to tell her again, in his morning greeting, of his love and to advise her of the mock-business of the day.
Penticost's, Judy saying that as they had luggage she thought it would be simpler to go straight there instead of stopping for supper at the Manor. The next day, however, both were to meet Boase there for tea. Meanwhile Ishmael had to relinquish them to the care of Mrs.
On this morning as he went down over the fields to Mrs. Penticost's he was more uneasy than ever before he knew it was not his imagination that she had been different these last few days; he began to be beset by vague fears to which he had not dared give form even in his own mind, much less in any speech with her.
The exaltation of the dawn had left her, and she quickened her steps, wondering uneasily what her skin looked like unaided in this dazzling light. She slipped noiselessly into the house by the front door, which she barred behind her; the clatter of hobnails from the little yard told that Billy was already about his business, but behind Mrs. Penticost's door all was quiet.
Penticost said she thought it was." Judy did not add that Mrs. Penticost's precise method of giving the information had been to snort out: "T'young maister can't live through the night wethout writing to she, simminly.... Poor sawl!" Blanche read the little note through twice, a smile on her face, then pulled Judith down to her and kissed her. "Blanche, are you ...?" asked Judy breathlessly.
Opening her box, she began to throw her belongings in viciously. From without came the crunch of Billy Penticost's boots as he crossed the little yard and the clink of a pail set down; then the rhythmic sound of pumping, so like the stertorous breathing of some vast creature, rose on the morning air.
It was autumn, but rich, warm autumn, dropping her leaf and seed into the teeming earth, whose grain was garnered, but whose womb was already fertile with the future. Blanche was still at Mrs. Penticost's, and the engagement, though it had not actually been announced, had leaked out, and Blanche was not at all satisfied with the results that had followed upon that dissemination of knowledge.
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