Chapter 9

It was Rose who had to tell Reuben.

Benjamin had given no one the faintest hint of his plans; indeed for the last two or three weeks his behaviour had been unusually good. Then one morning, when Reuben was at Robertsbridge market, he disappeared—Handshut could not find him to take his place in the lambing shed. Rose was angry, for she had wanted young Handshut to hang some curtains for her—one cause of disagreement between her and Reuben was her habit of coaxing the farm-hands to do odd jobs about the house.

That same evening, before her husband was back, a letter came for Rose. It was from Benjamin at Rye, announcing that he was sailing that night in the Rother Lady for Las Palmas. He was sick of the farm, and could not stand it any longer. Would Rose tell his father?

Rose was not sorry to see the last of Benjamin, whom she had always despised as a coarse lumpkinish youth, whose clothes smelt strongly either of pitch or manure. But she dreaded breaking the news to Reuben. She disliked her husband's rages, and now she would have to let one loose. Then suddenly she thought of something, and a little smile dimpled the corners of her mouth.

Reuben came in tired after a day's prodding and bargaining in Robertsbridge market-place. Rose, like[Pg 271] a wise woman, gave him his supper, and then, still wise, came and sat on his knee.

"Ben ..."

"Well, liddle Rose."

"I've some bad news for you."

"Wot?"

"Jemmy's gone for a sailor."

He suddenly thrust her from him, and the lines which had begun to soften on his face as he held her, reappeared in their old harshness and weariness.

"Gone!"

"Yes. I had a letter from him this evening. He couldn't stand Odiam any longer, so he ran away. He's sailed for a place called Palma."

Reuben did not speak. His hands were clenched on the arms of his chair, and for the first time Rose noticed that he looked old. A faint feeling of disgust came over her. She shivered, and took a step backwards as if she would leave him. Then her warm good nature and her gratitude to the man who had made her so happy, drove away the unnatural mood. She came close, and slipped her soft arms round his neck, pressing her lips to his.

He groaned.

"You mustn't fret, Reuben."

"How can I help it?—they're all gone now save one ... my boys...."

"Perhaps there'll be others."

She had slid back to his knee, and the weight and warmth of her comforted him a little. He lifted his head quickly at her words.

"Others?"

"Yes, why not?"

Her bold sweet eyes were looking into his and her mouth was curved like a heart.

"Rose, Rose—my dear, my liddle dear—you d?an't mean——"
 
"Of course I mean. You needn't look so surprised. Such a thing has been known to happen."

"D?an't go laughing at me, but tell me—when?"

"In October."

"Oh, God! oh, God!"

His rapture and excitement alarmed her. His eyes blazed—he threw back his head and laughed in ecstasy. Then he seized her, and crumpled her to him, covering her face, her neck, her hair, her ears, with kisses, murmuring broken phrases of adoration and gratitude.

Rose was definitely frightened, and broke free with some violence.

"Oh, stop it, Ben! can't you see you're spoiling my dress? Why should you get in such a taking? You've had children before, and they've all been failures—I expect this one will only be like the rest."