heavy with the garments
she was to wear as Martin's wife; there were silk blouses bought at
smart shops in Folkestone and Marlingate; there was a pair of buckled
shoes--size eight; there were piles of neat longcloth and calico
underclothing, demure nightdresses buttoning to the chin, stiff
petticoats, and what she called "petticoat bodies," fastening down the
front with linen buttons, and with tiny, shy frills of embroidery at the
neck and armholes.

She put on the brown dress, and piled up her hair against the big comb.
She looked at herself in the glass by the light of the candles she had
put to light up the rainy evening. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes
bright, and her hair and her dress were the same soft, burning
colour.... When would Martin come?

Then suddenly she thought of something even better than his coming. She
thought of herself going over to North Farthing House and telling him
that she had changed her mind and that she was his just as soon as ever
he wanted her.... Her breath came fast at the inspiration--it would be
better than waiting for him here; it gave to her surrender the
spectacular touch which hitherto it had lacked and her nature demanded.
The rain was coming down the wind almost as fiercely and as fast as it
had come on Tuesday night, but Joanna the marsh-born had never cared for
weather. She merely laced on her heavy boots and bundled into her
father's overcoat. Then she put out a hand for an old hat, and suddenly
she remembered the hat Martin had said he liked her in above all others.
It was an old rush basket, soft and shapeless with age, and she tied it
over her head with her father's red and white spotted handkerchief.

She was now ready, and all she had to do was to run down and tell Mrs.
Tolhurst that if Mr. Martin called while she was out he was to be asked
to wait. She was not really afraid of missing him, for there were few
short cuts on the Marsh, where the long way round of the road was often
the only way--but she hoped she would reach North Farthing before he
left it; she did not want anything to be taken from her surrender, it
must be absolute and complete ... the fires of her own sacrifice were
kindled and were burning her heart.

Sec.20

She did not meet Martin on the Brodnyx Road; only the wind was with her,
and the rain. She turned aside to North Farthing between the Woolpack
and the village, and still she did not meet him--and now she really
thought that she