going as soon as her brothers left her? She was going to the vicar’s to return a book and carry him a cream cheese of her own making.

He knew then how to meet her. She would pass through a meadow on her way home, and this meadow was skirted by a young plantation. Half-way down there was a broad stile between the two. He hurried his steps, and arrived there just as Aspatria entered the meadow. There was a high frolicking wind blowing right in her face. It had blown her braids loose, and her tippet and dress backward; her slim form was sharply defined by it, and 139 it compelled her to hold up both her hands in order to keep her hat on her head.

139

She came on so, treading lightly, almost dancing with the merry gusts to and fro. Once Ulfar heard a little cry that was half laughter, as the wind made her pirouette and then stand still to catch her breath. Ulfar thought the picture bewitching. He waited until she was within a yard or two of the stile, ere he crossed it. She was holding her hat down: she did not see him until he could have put his hand upon her. Then she let her hands fall, and her hat blew backward, and she stood quite still and quite speechless, her colour coming and going, all a woman’s softest witchery beaming in her eyes.

“Aspatria! dear Aspatria! I am come to take you with me. I am going to America.” He spoke a little sadly, as if he had some reason for feeling grieved.

She shook her head positively, but she did not, or she could not, speak.

“Aspatria, have you no kiss, no word of 140 welcome, no love to give me?” And he put out his hand, as if to draw her to his embrace.

140

She stepped quickly backward: “No, no, no! Do not touch me, Ulfar. Go away. Please go away!”

“But you must go with me. You are my wife, Aspatria.” And he said the last words very like a command.

“I am not your wife. Oh, no!”

“I say you are. I married you in Aspatria Church.”

“You also left me there, left me to such shame and sorrow as no man gives to the woman he loves.”

“Perhaps I did act cruelly in two or three ways, Aspatria; but people who love forgive two or three offences. Let us be lovers as we used to be.”

 Prev. P 52/92 next