男孩子们一副屈尊俯就的态度，不过，保罗倒没有注意到。他们到处寻找鸡蛋，四处乱钻乱爬。此刻他们正在喂鸡，米丽亚姆出来了。男孩子们也不理她，一只母鸡和几只淡黄色的小鸡关在一个笼里，莫里斯抓了一把谷子，让鸡在他手里啄食着。

    “你敢这样吗？”他问保罗。

    “让我试试。”保罗说。

    他有一双温暖的小手，看起来就很灵巧。米丽亚姆也看着。他拿着谷子伸到母鸡面前，母鸡用它那敏锐发亮的眼睛看了一下谷子，突然在他手上啄了一下，他吃了一惊，随即笑了起来。“笃、笃、笃！”鸡在他手掌上接连啄了几下，他又笑了，那些男孩子们也笑了起 来。

    谷子喂完后，保罗说：“鸡碰你、啄你，但决不会伤你的。”

    “好，米丽亚姆，”莫里斯 说，“你来试试。”

    “不。”她叫起 来，往后退了几步。

    “哈，小娃娃，娇气鬼！”她的兄弟们讥笑着说。

    “它根本不会伤你的，”保罗说：“它只是很舒服地啄啄你。”

    “不！”她仍然尖声叫着，摇着她黑色的卷发往后退。

    “她不敢，”杰弗里说，“除了朗诵诗，她什么都不敢干。”

    “不敢从栅栏往下跳，不敢学鸟叫，不敢上滑梯，不敢阻止别的女孩子打她，除了走来走去自以为是个人物外，她什么都不敢。‘湖上夫人’，嗨呀！”莫里斯大声说。

    米丽亚姆又羞又怒，脸上涨得通红。

    “我敢做的事比你们多。”她叫道，“你们只不过是一些胆小鬼和恶棍！”

    “哦，胆小鬼和恶棍！”他们装模作样地学了一遍，取笑她的话。

    “笨蛋想惹我生气，

    不吭一声气死你！”

    他们引用了她的诗攻击她，笑着喊着。

    她进屋去了。保罗和男孩子们去了果园，他们在那儿胡乱支了个双杠，几个人玩着锻炼了一阵。保罗的身体虽不很结实，却十分灵活，正好在这儿显一手。这时他摸了摸在树上摇晃不停的一朵苹果花。

    “不许摘苹果花，”大哥埃德加说，“要不明年就不结果了。”

    “我不会摘的。”保罗回答着，走开了。

    男孩子们对他非常不友好，他们喜欢自己玩。于是他就散步回去找母亲。当他绕到屋子后面时，发现米丽亚姆正跪在鸡笼前面，手里捧了点五米，咬着嘴唇，紧张地弯着身子，母鸡似乎不太友好地看着她。她战战兢兢地伸出了手，母鸡向她伸 过头来，她尖叫了一声，迅速收回了手，又害怕又懊恼。

    “不会伤你的。”保罗说。

    她满脸通红，站了起来。

    “我只是想试试。”她低声说。

    “看，一点都不疼。” 他说着，又在手掌上放了两颗玉米，让母鸡啄去，接着母鸡在他空空的手掌上啄啊啄，“这会啄得你直想笑。”他说。

    她伸出手来，又缩了回去，又伸出手来，但又惊叫着缩了回来。他皱了下眉头。

    “其实，我可以让鸡在我脸上啄玉米。”保罗说，“它只不过轻轻碰你一下罢了。鸡特别干净，如果不干净的话，它也不会每天啄干净地上的许多东西。”

    他耐心而又固执地等着，注视着她。最后，米丽亚姆终于让鸡在她手上啄谷子了，她轻轻地叫了一声——害怕，又因为害怕而觉得疼痛——一副十分可怜的样子。不过她总算做到了，接着她又试了一下。

    “怎么样，你看，一点也不疼吧？”保罗说。

    她睁着黑黑的眼睛望着他。

    “不疼。”她笑着说，身子有点发抖。

    接着，她站起身进了屋，她似乎有点厌恶保罗。

    “他觉得我只不过是个普普通通的女孩。”她心里 想着，她想证明自己实际上像“湖上夫人”一样了不起。

    保罗看到母亲已经准备回家了，她对儿子微微笑了笑，他拿起了那一大束花。雷渥斯夫妇陪着他们走过田地，小山在暮色中变成了金黄色，树林深处露出暗紫色的野风信子。到处一片寂静，只 有树林沙沙声和小鸟婉转和鸣。

    “这地方太美了。”莫瑞尔太太说。

    “没错。”雷渥斯先生说，“如果不是野兔捣乱的话，这里是片挺好的小草地，牧草都被野兔啃得光光的。我都不知道我能不能付得起租钱。”

    他拍了拍手，靠近树林的田地里应声跳出许多褐色的兔子，四处逃窜着。

    “真让人难以相信！”莫瑞尔太太惊呼。

    然后，母子俩独自向前走去。

    “这是一个很可爱的地方，对吧，妈妈？”他平静地问。

    一弯新月冉冉地升了起来。 他的心里几乎容纳不下这么多欢乐了。母亲也高兴得几乎想哭，只好不停地 说着。

    “我真希望我能帮帮那个男人！”她说，“ 我真希望我能够常常看到那些家禽和家畜！我也想学着挤牛奶，跟他聊天，帮他出谋划策。哎呀，如果我是他的妻子，这农场一定会发达起来，我知道！但是，她没有这份精力——她根本 没有这份精力。你知道，她也决不应该承担这一切，我为她难过，我也为他难过。哎呀，如果我有这样一个丈夫，我决不会认为他是一个坏蛋。当然，她也没这么认为，而且她也很可爱。”

    降灵节期间，威廉又带着他的意中人回来了。他有一个星期的假期。那些日子，天气也不错。像往常一样，清晨，威廉、莉莉和保罗一起出去散步。威廉除了给莉莉讲点自己小时候的事以外，就不大跟她说话。保罗却不停地对他俩说着。他们三人躺在敏顿教堂的一片草地上，紧靠着城堡农场那边是一排摇曳多姿美丽的白杨树；山楂从树篱上垂了下来，铜钱一样大的雏菊和仙翁花开满田地，朵朵花像绽开的笑脸。威廉，这位已经23岁的大小伙子，这阵子消瘦了许多，甚至有些。瞧淬，躺在那里梦想着什么，莉莉正在抚摸着他的头发。保罗跑去采那些朵朵雏菊了。她摘下帽子，露出马鬃似的黑发。保罗回来后把雏菊插到她的黑发上——大朵大朵亮闪闪的白色和黄色的菊花，还有几朵粉色的仙翁花。

    “现在你看上去像一个年轻的女巫了。”男孩对她说：“对不对，威廉？”

    莉莉大笑起来。威廉睁开眼睛看着她，他的目光里掺杂着痛苦和一种极为欣赏的神情。

    “他把我打扮得怪模怪样了吗？”她笑着低头问她的情人。

    “是的。”威廉微笑着说。

    他看着她，她的美丽似乎伤害了他。他瞥了一眼她插满鲜花的脑袋，皱起了眉头。

    “你真漂亮，这就是你想要我说的话。”他说。

    她没有戴帽子，向前走去。过了一会，威廉清醒过来，又对她温柔起来。 走过一座桥时，他把她和她的名字缩写成了心的形状。

    分手的时候，她看着他那双长满亮闪闪的汗毛和斑点的刚劲有力的手，似乎被这双手迷住了。

    威廉和莉莉呆在家的这段日子里，家里总是有一种凄凉感伤，但又温暖柔情的气氛。不 过，他常常会发火。因为在这只住短短的八天，莉莉竟带了五条裙子，六件衬衫。

    “哦，你能不能，”她问安妮，“帮我洗一下这两件衬衣和这些东西？”

    第二天早晨，威廉和莉莉又要出去时，安妮却站在那儿洗衣服。莫瑞尔太太大为恼火。有时，这个年轻人看到自己心爱的人竟用这种态度对待自己的妹妹，也忿恨不已。

    星期天早晨，她穿了一件丝一般的印花薄软绸拖地长裙，长裙像樱鸟的羽毛一样蓝，戴着一顶奶油色的大帽子，上面插了好几朵深红色的玫瑰花，美丽极了，大家都对她赞赏不已。但是到了晚上，临出门前，她又问：

    “亲爱的，你拿了我的手套了吗？”

    “哪一双？”威廉问。

    “我新买的小山羊皮黑手套。”

    “没拿。”

    到处搜寻了一番，连手套的影子都没有找到，她把手套丢了。

    “瞧，妈妈，”威廉说，“自从圣诞节后，她已经丢了四双手套了——一双要五先令呢！”

    “可只有两双是你给我买的。”她不服气地说。

    晚上吃过饭后，他站在炉边地毯那儿，她坐在沙发上。他似乎 有点讨厌她。下午他就没理她，自己去看一些老朋友，她就一直坐在那儿看书。晚饭后，威廉想写封信。

    “这是你的书，莉莉，”莫瑞尔太太说，“你可能还想再看一会儿吧？”

    “不了，谢谢你。”姑娘说，“我就这么坐会儿。”

    “这样太无聊了。”

    威廉急躁地以极快的速度写着信。在他封信时说道：

    “还看书呢！哼，她一辈子从来没看过一本书。”

    “哦，走开！”莫瑞尔太太听到他夸张的言词有些不满。

    “这是真的，——她没看过。”他大声说着，跳起 来又站在 他的老地方——炉边地毯上。“她一辈子都没有看过一本书。”

    “她和我一样。”莫瑞尔赞同地说，“坐在那儿看半天，她也不明白书上到底讲了些什么，我也一样。”

    “但你不应该这么说。”莫瑞尔太太对儿子说。

     “这是真的，妈妈——她看不懂书。你给她是什么书？”

    “哦，我给她一本安妮·斯旺写的小说。没人愿意在星期天下午看枯燥的东西。”

    “好， 我打赌她念了不到十行。”

    “你弄错了。”他妈妈说。

    这段时间，莉莉可怜兮兮地坐在沙发上，他突然转过身来。

    “你看了那本书吗？”他问。

     “是的，我看了。”她回答。

    “看了多少？”

    “我也不知道有多少页。”

    “把你看过的说点给我听听。”

    她说不出来。

    她连第二页都没念到。威廉却看过很多书，有一个聪明机灵的头脑。她除了谈情说爱，聊天，什么也不懂。他习惯于和母亲交流自己的 想法。他需要的是志同道合的伴侣，而他的未婚妻却要他做一个能付帐单和喊喊喳喳说笑的情夫，因此他不禁对未婚妻产生了深深的厌恶。

    “你知道吗，妈妈，”晚上他和母亲单独在一起地，他说，“她连一点省钱的意思都没有，头脑简单，胡乱花钱。她拿到工资时，她就立刻买那些不是必需的蜜饯栗子吃，结果我不得不给她买季票，买必需的零零碎碎的东西，甚至连内衣裤也得我买。而且她想结婚，我自己也认为我们还是最好明年办事情。但现在这个样子……”

    “这个样子就急着结婚，简直太糟糕了。”母亲回答。“我还得再考虑一下，孩子。”

    “哦，算了，现在跟她断绝关系是不可能的。”他说，“所以我要尽快结婚。”

    “好吧，孩子，如果你愿意，那就行、没人会阻拦你。不过我告诉你，一想起这桩婚事，我就彻夜难眠。”

    “哦，她会好起来的，妈妈， 我们将设法克服。”

    “她让你给她买内衣裤的吗？”母亲问。

    “嗯，”他有点歉意地说，“她没问我要，但是有天早晨——是个很冷的早晨——我发现她站在车站时直发抖，冻得站不住了。于是，我问她，她穿的衣服够不够，她说：‘我觉得够了。’我说，‘你穿没穿暖和的内衣内裤？’她说，‘没有，内衣内裤是棉布的。’我问到底为什么在这种天气里不穿厚点的内衣内裤，她说是因为她没钱。她就这样熬着，得了支气管炎！我不得不带她去买厚一点的内衣内裤。妈妈，如果我们有钱，我也不会在乎的。但是你知道，她至少应该把买季票的钱留下来。但是没有，她来问我要钱买。我只好想办法去找钱。”

    “你们的前景可是不太妙啊。”莫瑞尔太太有些悲观地说。

    他脸色苍白，那张粗犷的脸以前总是什么都不在乎，永远笑嘻嘻的，现在却是满脸的惆怅和失望。

    “但是现在我不能放弃她，我陷得太深了。”他说，“而且，有些事情我离不了她。”

    “孩子，记住你可要自己把握自己的生活。”莫瑞尔太太说，“没有什么事再比一个没有前途的婚姻更糟糕了。我的婚姻已经够糟糕了，天知道我应该给你一些教训，可也说不准，也许你的婚姻要比我的还要糟糕许多倍。”

    他斜倚着壁炉架，双手插在口袋里，他是一个身材高大，骨瘦如柴的人，看上去似乎如果他愿意，踏遍天涯海角，在所不辞。可是此刻她从他脸上 看出了悲观失望的神情。

    “我现在不能放弃她。”他说。

    “可是，”她说：“记住还有别的事比解除婚姻更糟呢。”

    “现在，我不能放弃她。”

    闹钟嘀嘀嗒嗒地走着。母子俩沉默不语，他们之间有冲突，不过他不再说话了。最后，她说：

    “好了，去睡吧，孩子，明天早晨你就会感觉好点，也许会更清醒些。”

    他吻了她一下，走了。她捅了捅炉子，心情似乎从来没有这么沉重过。过去，和丈夫在一起的岁月，她只觉得内心的希望化为泡影，可是还没有丧失生活的勇气。而现在，她感到心力焦淬，她的希望又受到沉重的打击。

    此后，威廉常常表现出对未婚妻的深恶痛绝。在家的最后一个晚上，他又在抱怨她。

    The boys were condescending, but Paul scarcely observed it. They went round for eggs, scrambling into all sorts of places. As they were feeding the fowls Miriam came out. The boys took nonotice of her. One hen, with her yellow chickens, was in a coop. Maurice took his hand full of corn and let the hen peck from it.
　　"Durst you do it?" he asked of Paul.
　　"Let's see," said Paul.
　　He had a small hand, warm, and rather capable-looking.Miriam watched. He held the corn to the hen. The bird eyed it with herhard, bright eye, and suddenly made a peck into his hand. He started,and laughed. "Rap, rap, rap!" went the bird's beak in his palm. He laughed again, and the other boys joined.
　　"She knocks you, and nips you, but she never hurts," said Paul,when the last corn had gone. " Now, Miriam," said Maurice, "you comean 'ave a go."
　　"No," she cried, shrinking back.
　　"Ha! baby. The mardy-kid!" said her brothers.
　　"It doesn't hurt a bit," said Paul. "It only just nipsrather nicely."
　　"No," she still cried, shaking her black curls and shrinking.
　　"She dursn't," said Geoffrey. "She niver durst do anythingexcept recite poitry."
　　"Dursn't jump off a gate, dursn't tweedle, dursn't go on a slide,dursn't stop a girl hittin' her. She can do nowt but go about thinkin'herself somebody. 'The Lady of the Lake.' Yah!" cried Maurice.
　　Miriam was crimson with shame and misery.
　　"I dare do more than you," she cried. "You're never anythingbut cowards and bullies."
　　"Oh, cowards and bullies!" they repeated mincingly,mocking her speech.
　　 "Not such a clown shall anger me, A boor is answered silently,"
　　he quoted against her, shouting with laughter.
　　She went indoors. Paul went with the boys into the orchard,where they had rigged up a parallel bar. They did feats of strength. He was more agile than strong, but it served. He fingered a pieceof apple-blossom that hung low on a swinging bough.
　　"I wouldn't get the apple-blossom," said Edgar, the eldest brother. "There'll be no apples next year."
　　"I wasn't going to get it," replied Paul, going away.
　　The boys felt hostile to him; they were more interested in theirown pursuits. He wandered back to the house to look for his mother. As he went round the back, he saw Miriam kneeling in front of thehen-coop, some maize in her hand, biting her lip, and crouchingin an intense attitude. The hen was eyeing her wickedly.Very gingerly she put forward her hand. The hen bobbed for her.She drew back quickly with a cry, half of fear, half of chagrin.
　　"It won't hurt you," said Paul.
　　She flushed crimson and started up.
　　"I only wanted to try," she said in a low voice.
　　"See, it doesn't hurt," he said, and, putting only two cornsin his palm, he let the hen peck, peck, peck at his bare hand. "It only makes you laugh," he said.
　　She put her hand forward and dragged it away, tried again,and started back with a cry. He frowned.
　　"Why, I'd let her take corn from my face," said Paul,"only she bumps a bit. She's ever so neat. If she wasn't, lookhow much ground she'd peck up every day."
　　He waited grimly, and watched. At last Miriam let the birdpeck from her hand. She gave a little cry--fear, and pain becauseof fear--rather pathetic. But she had done it, and she did it again.
　　"There, you see," said the boy. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"
　　She looked at him with dilated dark eyes.
　　"No," she laughed, trembling.
　　Then she rose and went indoors. She seemed to be in some wayresentful of the boy.
　　"He thinks I'm only a common girl," she thought, and she wantedto prove she was a grand person like the "Lady of the Lake".
　　Paul found his mother ready to go home. She smiled on her son. He took the great bunch of flowers. Mr. and Mrs. Leivers walkeddown the fields with them. The hills were golden with evening;deep in the woods showed the darkening purple of bluebells. It was everywhere perfectly stiff, save for the rustling of leavesand birds.
　　"But it is a beautiful place," said Mrs. Morel.
　　"Yes," answered Mr. Leivers; "it's a nice little place, if onlyit weren't for the rabbits. The pasture's bitten down to nothing. I dunno if ever I s'll get the rent off it."
　　He clapped his hands, and the field broke into motion nearthe woods, brown rabbits hopping everywhere.
　　"Would you believe it!" exclaimed Mrs. Morel.
　　She and Paul went on alone together.
　　"Wasn't it lovely, mother?" he said quietly.
　　A thin moon was coming out. His heart was full of happinesstill it hurt. His mother had to chatter, because she, too,wanted to cry with happiness.
　　"Now WOULDN'T I help that man!" she said. "WOULDN'T I seeto the fowls and the young stock! And I'D learn to milk, and I'Dtalk with him, and I'D plan with him. My word, if I were his wife,the farm would be run, I know! But there, she hasn't the strength--shesimply hasn't the strength. She ought never to have been burdenedlike it, you know. I'm sorry for her, and I'm sorry for him too. My word, if I'D had him, I shouldn't have thought him a bad husband! Not that she does either; and she's very lovable."
　　William came home again with his sweetheart at the Whitsuntide. He had one week of his holidays then. It was beautiful weather. As a rule, William and Lily and Paul went out in the morning togetherfor a walk. William did not talk to his beloved much, except to tellher things from his boyhood. Paul talked endlessly to both of them. They lay down, all three, in a meadow by Minton Church. On one side,by the Castle Farm, was a beautiful quivering screen of poplars. Hawthorn was dropping from the hedges; penny daisies and raggedrobin were in the field, like laughter. William, a big fellowof twenty-three, thinner now and even a bit gaunt, lay backin the sunshine and dreamed, while she fingered with his hair. Paul went gathering the big daisies. She had taken off her hat;her hair was black as a horse's mane. Paul came back and threadeddaisies in her jet-black hair--big spangles of white and yellow, and justa pink touch of ragged robin.
　　"Now you look like a young witch-woman," the boy said to her. "Doesn't she, William?"
　　Lily laughed. William opened his eyes and looked at her. In his gaze was a certain baffled look of misery and fierce appreciation.
　　"Has he made a sight of me?" she asked, laughing down onher lover.
　　"That he has!" said William, smiling.
　　He looked at her. Her beauty seemed to hurt him. He glancedat her flower-decked head and frowned.
　　"You look nice enough, if that's what you want to know,"he said.
　　And she walked without her hat. In a little while Williamrecovered, and was rather tender to her. Coming to a bridge,he carved her initials and his in a heart.
　　 L. L. W. W. M.
　　She watched his strong, nervous hand, with its glisteninghairs and freckles, as he carved, and she seemed fascinated by it.
　　All the time there was a feeling of sadness and warmth,and a certain tenderness in the house, whilst William and Lilywere at home. But often he got irritable. She had brought,for an eight-days' stay, five dresses and six blouses.
　　"Oh, would you mind," she said to Annie, "washing me thesetwo blouses, and these things?"
　　And Annie stood washing when William and Lily went out thenext morning. Mrs. Morel was furious. And sometimes the young man,catching a glimpse of his sweetheart's attitude towards his sister,hated her.
　　On Sunday morning she looked very beautiful in a dressof foulard, silky and sweeping, and blue as a jay-bird's feather,and in a large cream hat covered with many roses, mostly crimson. Nobody could admire her enough. But in the evening, when she wasgoing out, she asked again:
　　"Chubby, have you got my gloves?"
　　"Which?" asked William.
　　"My new black SUEDE."
　　"No."
　　There was a hunt. She had lost them.
　　"Look here, mother," said William, "that's the fourth pairshe's lost since Christmas--at five shillings a pair!"
　　"You only gave me TWO of them," she remonstrated.
　　And in the evening, after supper, he stood on the hearthrugwhilst she sat on the sofa, and he seemed to hate her. In theafternoon he had left her whilst he went to see some old friend. She had sat looking at a book. After supper William wanted to writea letter.
　　"Here is your book, Lily," said Mrs. Morel. "Would you careto go on with it for a few minutes?"
　　"No, thank you," said the girl. "I will sit still."
　　"But it is so dull."
　　William scribbled irritably at a great rate. As he sealedthe envelope he said:
　　"Read a book! Why, she's never read a book in her life."
　　"Oh, go along!" said Mrs. Morel, cross with the exaggeration,
　　"It's true, mother--she hasn't," he cried, jumping up and takinghis old position on the hearthrug. "She's never read a book in her life."
　　"'Er's like me," chimed in Morel. "'Er canna see what thereis i' books, ter sit borin' your nose in 'em for, nor more can I."
　　"But you shouldn't say these things," said Mrs. Morel to her son.
　　"But it's true, mother--she CAN'T read. What did you give her?"
　　"Well, I gave her a little thing of Annie Swan's. Nobody wantsto read dry stuff on Sunday afternoon."
　　"Well, I'll bet she didn't read ten lines of it."
　　"You are mistaken," said his mother.
　　All the time Lily sat miserably on the sofa. He turnedto her swiftly.
　　"DID you ready any?" he asked.
　　"Yes, I did," she replied.
　　"How much?"
　　"l don't know how many pages."
　　"Tell me ONE THING you read."
　　She could not.

    She never got beyond the second page. He read a great deal,and had a quick, active intelligence. She could understand nothing butlove-making and chatter. He was accustomed to having all his thoughtssifted through his mother's mind; so, when he wanted companionship,and was asked in reply to be the billing and twittering lover,he hated his betrothed.
　　"You know, mother," he said, when he was alone with her at night,"she's no idea of money, she's so wessel-brained. When she's paid,she'll suddenly buy such rot as marrons glaces, and then I haveto buy her season ticket, and her extras, even her underclothing. And she wants to get married, and I think myself we might as well getmarried next year. But at this rate---"
　　"A fine mess of a marriage it would be," replied his mother. "I should consider it again, my boy."
　　"Oh, well, I've gone too far to break off now," he said,"and so I shall get married as soon as I can."
　　"Very well, my boy. If you will, you will, and there's nostopping you; but I tell you, I can't sleep when I think about it."
　　"Oh, she'll be all right, mother. We shall manage."
　　"And she lets you buy her underclothing?" asked the mother.
　　"Well," he began apologetically, "she didn't ask me; but onemorning--and it WAS cold--I found her on the station shivering, not ableto keep still; so I asked her if she was well wrapped up. She said: 'I think so.' So I said: 'Have you got warm underthings on?' And she said: 'No, they were cotton.' I asked her why on earth shehadn't got something thicker on in weather like that, and she saidbecause she HAD nothing. And there she is--a bronchial subject! I HAD to take her and get some warm things. Well, mother, I shouldn'tmind the money if we had any. And, you know, she OUGHT to keep enoughto pay for her season-ticket; but no, she comes to me about that,and I have to find the money."
　　"It's a poor lookout," said Mrs. Morel bitterly.
　　He was pale, and his rugged face, that used to be so perfectlycareless and laughing, was stamped with conflict and despair.
　　"But I can't give her up now; it's gone too far," he said. "And, besides, for SOME things I couldn't do without her."
　　"My boy, remember you're taking your life in your hands,"said Mrs. Morel. "NOTHING is as bad as a marriage that'sa hopeless failure. Mine was bad enough, God knows, and oughtto teach you something; but it might have been worse by a long chalk."
　　He leaned with his back against the side of the chimney-piece,his hands in his pockets. He was a big, raw-boned man, who lookedas if he would go to the world's end if he wanted to. But she sawthe despair on his face.
　　"I couldn't give her up now," he said.
　　"Well," she said, "remember there are worse wrongs than breakingoff an engagement."
　　"I can't give her up NOW," he said.
　　The clock ticked on; mother and son remained in silence,a conflict between them; but he would say no more. At last she said:
　　"Well, go to bed, my son. You'll feel better in the morning,and perhaps you'll know better."
　　He kissed her, and went. She raked the fire. Her heartwas heavy now as it had never been. Before, with her husband,things had seemed to be breaking down in her, but they did notdestroy her power to live. Now her soul felt lamed in itself. It was her hope that was struck.
　　And so often William manifested the same hatred towardshis betrothed. On the last evening at home he was railing against her.