The Angry Tide Read Free Page B

her skirt fall. But she did not go on, A peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. What horseman would come this way at dusk? And was there not something familiar about the way he sat his horse? Oh, rubbish, he would have written. He would have sent word. Gimlett would have had to meet him in Truro.
    Parliament did not end its sittings for weeks yet. It was one of the Trenegloses. Or some visitor they had invited. There was nowhere else to go on this track at all. The hamlet of Mellin? Nampara House? Mingoose House? That was all } before the waste of sandhills to the north-east.
    She tur ned back to the brow of the hill , She stood on the brow of the hill beside the chapel, shading her eyes, though what light there was was behind her. The figure was appreciably nearer. She had never seen the horse before.The rider she had.
    She began to run down the hill, shoes scuffing on the rough track, hair flying, to meet him.

Chapter Two
    Some hours before the second weary traveller reached home, the first one had arrived at his destination, St Margaret's vicarage, Truro; but no light-footed, long-legged, eager young woman had come running to greet him.
    This was not a disappointment, for he had not expected it. Nor would he ever expect it from his wife, for she, alas, was insane.
    It was a terrible cross the Rev. Osborne Whitworth had to bear. Having been bereaved at a very early age of his charming, if feckless, but doting first wife, he had married quickly again, anxious not only to provide a new mother for his two orphaned little girls but to furnish a new life-companion for himself, a young woman who would be at his side for his mutual society, help and comfort in prosperity and adversity, a young woman, moreover, who would help him to avoid the sin of fornication and be of o ne flesh with him as an undefile d member of Christ's body; and in so doing, no doubt, conceive and bring forth more children - particularly a son - in the fear and nurture of the Lord and to the praise of His Holy Name. In making his choice it had not seemed anything but natural to him to look also for a girl with some connections and money to her name.
    So, reverently, discreetly, advisedly and soberly, he had picked on Morwe nna Chynoweth, a tall, shy, dark-skinned creature of eighteen; short-sighted, not pretty by any ordinary standards, but with a perfectly beautiful body. She was genteelly born, too, the daughter of the late dean of Bodmin, and her cousin was George Warleggan's wife. The Warleggans being not at all genteel, in spite of all their efforts to appear so ... but they were very rich and becoming ever richer, and after some hard bargaining George had set tled a sufficient sum on Morwenn a to make the marriage a practical proposition. Quite clearly he was aware of the advantages to himself of being associated with a family as distinguished as the Whitworths, who themselves were related to the Godolphins.
    So the marriage had been arranged and had taken place, and the small matter of Morwenna's objections had been confidently set aside. After all, no girl of that age knew her own mind; and for a creature virtually without expectations the offer of such a union was like opening a gate to a new life. No person in her senses could refuse. And as for the physical side of the matter, Ossie had been confident enough of his own male charms to be sure that her awakening would rouse in her a quiet adoration. Of course it didn't much matter if it did not, for carnal desire and pleasure were male characteristics and the female was sufficiently gratified by the attention she received without further reward.
    So it had begun, and for a while Ossie had not noticed any danger signals. She had submitted five times a week, and, although on occasion her attitude and her facial expressions had been far from flattering, he had not taken too much notice of them. Then she had borne him a child, and a male child at that, a healthy, vigorous, thrusting, heavy, greedy