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Updated: June 28, 2025
Nothing more splendid could be imagined than Joanna Godden sitting at the head of her table, wearing her Folkestone-made gown of apricot charmeuse, adapted to her modesty by means of some rich gold lace; Ellen had induced her to bind her hair with a gold ribbon, and from her ears great gold ear-rings hung nearly to her shoulders, giving the usual barbaric touch to her stateliness.
She had come to him as Ansdore to North Farthing but he had stripped her of Ansdore, and she was just Joanna Godden who had waited twenty-eight years for love. Yet, perhaps because she had waited so long, she was now a little afraid. She had hitherto met love only in the dim forms of Arthur Alce and Dick Socknersh, with still more hazy images in the courtships of Abbot and Cobb.
He felt that one day he would be crushed between his parishioners' hatred of change and his fellow-priests' insistence on it rumour said that the Squire's elder son, Father Lawrence, was coming home before long, and the poor little rector quailed to think of what he would say of the harmonium if it was still in its place. "I er Miss Godden I feel our reputation is at stake.
"It's some low drinking society he belonged to, and I'm not proud I'm ashamed." Joanna boxed her ears. "You don't deserve to be his daughter, Ellen Godden, speaking so. It's you that's bringing us all to shame thank goodness you've left school, where you learned all that tedious, proud nonsense.
Hitherto she had never thought of clothes in any definite relation to herself, as enhancing, veiling, suggesting, or softening the beauty which was Joanna Godden.
There was not only the thought that she might lose Ellen once more and have to go back to her lonely living ... her heart was sick to think that again love had come under her roof and had not visited her. Love ... love ... for Ellen no more for Joanna Godden. Perhaps now it was too late.
"Tut! Tut I What terrible ways we're getting into, just when I'm proposing the place as a rest-cure. How do you feel, Miss Godden, being the only woman guest?" "I like it." "Bet you do so do we." Joanna laughed and bridled.
All he knew was that she had been expected for years to marry Arthur Alce, but had not done so, and that she had also been expected at one time to marry her looker, but had not done so. The root of such romances must be poor indeed if this was all the flower that gossip could give them. Altogether he was prejudiced against Joanna Godden, and the prejudice did not go deep enough to beget interest.
Downwards from the bottom of his coat he was just a farm-labourer, with feet of clay and corduroy trousers tied with string. His presence showed that Miss Godden was inside the New Inn, eating her dinner, probably finishing it, or he would not have brought the trap round.
Martin, you mustn't marry Joanna Godden however much you love her. It would be a silly mistake she's not your equal, and she's not your type. Have you asked her?" "Practically." "Oh that's all right, then. It doesn't matter asking a woman practically as long as you don't ask her literally." "Father, please don't talk about it." "I will talk about it.
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