It was the last week in January.
All through December Rowcliffe's visits to the Vicarage had continued.
But in January they ceased. That was not to be wondered at. Even Ally
couldn't wonder. There was influenza in every other house in the Dale.
Then, one day, Gwenda, walking past Upthorne, heard wheels behind
her and the clanking hoofs of the doctor's horse. She knew what would
happen. Rowcliffe would pull up a yard or two in front of her. He
would ask her where she was going and he would make her drive with him
over the moor. And she knew that she would go with him. She would not
be able to refuse him.
But the clanking hoofs went by and never stopped. There were two men
in the trap. Acroyd, Rowcliffe's groom, sat in Rowcliffe's place,
driving. He touched his hat to her as he passed her.
Beside him there was a strange man.
She said to herself, "He's away then. I think he might have told me."
And Ally, passing through the village, had seen the strange man too.
"Dr. Rowcliffe must be away," she said at tea-time. "I wonder if he'll
be back by Wednesday."
Wednesday, the last day in January, came, but Rowcliffe did not come.
The strange man took his place in the surgery.
Mrs. Gale brought the news into the Vicarage dining-room at four
o'clock.
She had taken her daughter's place for the time being. She was a just
woman and she bore no grudge against the Vicar on Essy's account. He
had done no more than he was obliged to do.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149