ONE:He knew now that Alice was lost. The whole of Boarzell lay between them. He had thought that she would be always there, but now he saw that between him and her lay the dividing wilderness of his success. She was the offering and the reward of failureand he had triumphed over failure as over everything else.Soon afterwards a letter came from Albert, asking for money, but again Reuben forbade any notice to be taken of it. For one thing he could not afford to help anyone, for another he would not even in years of plenty have helped a renegade like Albert. His blood still boiled when he remembered the boy's share in his political humiliation. He had shamed his father and his father's farm. Let him rot!
ONE:"My son!"Reuben swung round on the men who had once rallied under his leadership, but now stood scowling at him and muttering to themselves. "My son!"
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TWO:She sat down and held her feet to the brazier. He noticed that her shoes were pulped with wet, and the water was pouring off her skirts to the floor. He did not dare speak, and she evidently did not want to. He felt the colour mounting to his face; he knew that he was dirty and unkempt, for he had been hours in the huthis hands were grimed from the brazier, and he wore an old crumpled slop. She probably despised him.
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TWO:"Wot's Odiam to you?It ?un't yours, it's mine, and if I d?an't care about the land, why[Pg 20] shud you go disgracing yourself and us all because of it?""Oh, I dunno. I just look at him like this with my eyes half shut. Then if that isn't enough I part my lipsso."
Reuben looked at Harry with detachment. He was not in the least jealous of his position as favourite son, he had always accepted it as normal and inevitable. His parents did not openly flaunt their preference, and they were always very kind to Reubenwitness the gentleness with which he was received to-day after his escapadebut one could not help seeing that their attitude towards the elder boy was very different from what they felt for the younger.Hitherto any verse that had been written in the controversy had been meant for street singing, and turned out in the less serious moments of politicians who certainly were not poets. But "MacDonald's Gate" impressed the multitude as something altogether different. The sounding periods and the number of capitals proclaimed it poetry of the very highest order, and its prominent position throughout the town soon resulted in the collection of excited groups all discussing the Scott's Float toll-gate, which nobody hitherto had thought much about.God save the Queen!"
