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Updated: June 4, 2025
Ellen had no particular pleasure in letting the boys kiss her she was a cold-blooded little thing but, she asked herself, what else was there to do in a desert like Walland Marsh? The Marsh mocked her every morning as she looked out of her window at the flat miles between Ansdore and Dunge Ness.
Flora rattled the dishes in the pan and laughed unsteadily. "Go to work, Billy Boy, and don't act stagey," she commanded lightly. "I'll tell you the exact truth and that isn't anything to get excited over. Fred Walland came about three minutes before you did, and of course I didn't know he belonged there. I was afraid.
You stared every bit as hard and long as Fred Walland did." "But I'll bet I didn't have the same look in my face. Yuh wasn't scared of me," Billy asserted shrewdly. "I was too! I was horribly scared at first. "I don't think I will! Good Lord! Flora, do yuh think I don't know the stuff he's made of? He's a murderer that ought by rights t' be in the pen right now "
Here and there little deserted chapels lie out on the marsh, officeless since the days of the monks of Canterbury; and everywhere there are farms, with hundreds of sheep grazing on the thick pastures. Little Ansdore Farm was on Walland Marsh, three miles from Rye, and about midway between the villages of Brodnyx and Pedlinge. It was a sea farm.
Flora he afterward saw intermittently while they danced a quadrille together, and she made it plain that she had not considered Billy as her partner; how could she, when he was trailing around over the country with the round-up, and nobody knew whether he would come or not? No, Mr. Walland did not come to the ranch so very often. She added naïvely that he was awfully busy.
She would have to give up Ansdore, of course leave Walland Marsh ... her spirit quailed, but she braced it fiercely. She was going through with this it was the only thing Lawrence had told her that she could do go softly all her days to the very end. That end was farther and bitterer than either he or she had imagined then, but she would not have to go all the way alone.
Poor girl, she cried in the most heartbroken way when I told her we would not be likely to see her again, and I wonder what is the trouble between her and Walland? They used to be quite friendly, in a way, but she has not spoken to him, to my certain knowledge, since last spring. Whenever he came to the ranch she would go to her room and refuse to come out until he had left. H-m-m!
Pratt, the rector.... It was the first time that she had ever considered him as a social asset his poverty, his inefficiency and self-depreciation had quite outweighed his gentility in her ideas; he had existed only as the Voice of the Church on Walland Marsh, and the spasmodic respect she paid him was for his office alone.
The knowledge of Martin's illness was all over Walland Marsh by the evening. All the Marsh knew about the doctor and the nurse and the peaches and grapes from London. The next morning they knew that he was worse, and that his brother had been sent for Father Lawrence arrived on Saturday night, driving in the carrier's cart from Rye station.
The unconscious striving of her soul no longer woke her to ask her hard questions. Her mind was made up, and her conflict was at an end. She woke at the full day, when down on Walland Marsh all the world was awake, but here the city and the house still slept, and rose with her eyes and heart full of tragic purpose.
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