For the worst of all that Ivy had to bear was her love for Seagrim, still alive, though wounded and outraged. Her old gay interest in young men, her comradeships and correspondences, had faded out and could occupy her no more. Her heart was full of a mixed dread and hope of meeting him again. Sometimes when the purple chaffy evenings drew down over the fields, and the smell of ripening grain and ripening hops made sweet sick perfume on the drowsy air, an ache which was almost madness would drive her out into the lanes, seeking him by the tall stile at Four Wents, where he would never come again. The fiery horn of the moon, the jigging candles of the stars, would glow out of the grape-coloured sky as she went home through a fog of tears, slipping and stumbling in the ruts, dreaming of his step beside her and his arm about her and his bulk all black in the dimness of the lane.... Then suddenly she would hate him for all he had made her suffer, for all the lies he had told her and all the truths, for the kisses he had given her and the tears that he had cost her—and the hate would hurt more than love, choke her and burn her, make her throw herself sobbing and gasping into bed, where the hunch of Nell’s cold shoulder and the polar stars that hung in the window joined in preaching the same lesson of loneliness. Then one day she made up her mind quite suddenly to bear it no longer. “If you have much more of this you’ll go crazy,” she said to herself, “—so git shut of it, Ivy Beatup.” 9 Ivy’s disappearance was not found out till late in the evening. In spite of the dejection and heartache of the last week, her failure to appear at supper with a healthy appetite was an alarming sign. It was now remembered that no one seemed to have seen her all the evening. Mrs. Beatup burst into tears. “She’s chucked herself into the pond, for sartain-sure. You’ve bin so rough wud her, Maaster—you’ve bruk her heart, surelye.” “I rough wud a girl as has disgraced us all! I’ve took no notice of her a dunnamany days.” “That’s why, I reckon. You’ve bruk her heart. Git along, Harry, and drag the pond, and doan’t sit staring at me lik a fowl wud gapes.” “Maybe she’s only gone into Senlac to see the pictures.” “And maybe she’s only run away wud that lousy furrin soldier of hern.” “I tell you she’s drownded. I feel it in my boans. She’s floating on the water lik a dead cat. Go out and see, Harry! Go out and see!” Zacky began to howl. “Adone, do, mother!” cried Harry. “You’re the one fur the miserables. Reckon Ivy’s only out enjoying herself.” “I’d go myself,” sobbed Mrs. Beatup, “but my oald legs feel that swummy. Oh, I can see her floating, all swelled up!” During this scene Nell had slipped out of the room. She was now back in the doorway, saying icily— “You needn’t worry. Ivy’s taken all her clothes with her.” The family took a little time to get the drift of her words. “All her clothes!” murmured Mrs. Beatup faintly.