她喜欢他星期天的装束。他身穿着一套深色衣服，显得身体富有活力，看起来干净利落。他继续跟她谈着他的想法。突然 他伸手去拿《圣经》，米丽亚姆很喜欢他伸出手去拿什么东西的样子——又快又准。他迅速翻开书，给她念了一章《约翰福音》。他坐在扶手椅上，一心一意地念着，声音仿佛只是在出神地沉思着。她感到他是在不知不觉地利用她，就好象一个男人专心干活时利用工具一样。她喜欢这样，他渴望的声音仿佛祈求得到什么，仿佛她就是他要得到的。她坐在沙发上朝后仰靠过去，离他远了点，可仍觉得自己似乎还是他手中的工具。这让她感到愉快。

    后来，他开始变得结结巴巴，不自在起来，他碰到这句话“妇女临生产的时候，就忧愁，因为她的产期 到了。”就没念这句话，米丽亚姆发现他越来越不自在了。当她发现他没念这句很有名的句子时，心里不由地哆嗦了一下。他仍旧念着，但她却没听。一阵悲伤和羞愧让她低下了头。要是六个月前，他会径自念 出来的。现在，他和她之间的关系有了一道裂痕，她觉得他们之间确实存在某种敌意，某种使他俩感到羞愧的东西。

    她机械地吃着蛋糕，他还打算再议论下去。但却没 说到点子上。一会儿，艾德加进来了，莫瑞尔太太去看朋友了。他们三个动身去威利农场。

    米丽亚姆苦苦思索着他和她之间的裂痕。 他还需要别的什么东西，他无法满足，也无法给她安宁。现在，他们之间老有发生磨擦的理由。她想考验他。她相信他生活中第一需要就是她。如果她能对他也对自己证明这一点，其它一切问题都好办了。她就可以寄希望于未来。

    因此，在五月份，她请他到威利农场来见道伍斯太太。这正是他心里所渴慕的事情。她发现每当他们谈起克莱拉·道伍斯时，他就有些生气和不高兴。他说他不喜欢她，可他又很想了解她。好吧，他应该让自己接受一下考验了。她相信他心里既有对高尚事物的欲望，也有对低俗事物的欲望。不过，对高尚事物的欲望总会占上风的。不管怎么说，他应该考验一下。正是她没有意识到自己所谓的“高尚”和“低俗”都相当武断的。

    想到要在威利农场见到克莱拉，保罗不禁有些激动，道伍斯太太来呆了一天，她那浓密的暗褐色头发盘在头顶，穿了件白罩衫，加一条海军蓝裙子。不知为什么，不管她走到哪儿，哪儿的东西就相形见细，自惭形秽。当她进了屋，厨房就显得狭小而寒怆。米丽亚姆家那间幽暗漂亮的客厅也显得局促和土气。雷渥斯家的人都象一支支蜡烛，黯然失色。他们 发现这屋子都很难忍受她。然而，她倒是相当友善，虽然对人处事有点冷漠，甚至还有些无情。

    保罗下午来了，他来得还早，他刚从自行车上跳下来，米丽亚姆就看见他急切地朝屋子四下张望着。如果那个拜访者还没来，他准会失望的。米丽亚姆出去接他，由于阳光太刺眼她微低着头。金莲花在阴凉的绿荫下开着深红色的花朵。姑娘站在那儿，满头乌黑秀发，正含笑看着他。

    “克莱拉来了吗？”他问。

    “来了。”米丽亚姆那动听的声音回答着。“她正在看书呢。”

    他把自行车推进了马厩。今天他打着一条为之感到自豪的漂亮的领带，还穿上一双般配的袜子。

    “她是早晨来的？”他问。

    “嗯。”米丽亚姆回答，在他身边走着，“你说过要把‘自由’酒馆里那个人写的信带给我，你记得吗？”

    “哦，糟糕，我没带！”他说，“你可要不断提醒我，直到你拿上信为止。”

    “ 我可不喜欢唠叨。”

    “随你的便吧。她现在是不是比较随和了一些？”他接着说。

    “你知道我一直认为她很随和。”

    他沉默了。很明显，今天他这么急切地赶到，就是为了这个新来的人。米丽亚姆心里已经老大不痛快了。他们一起朝屋里走去，他取掉了裤脚上的夹子。虽然袜子和领带那么漂亮，但他却，懒得把鞋子上的灰擦一擦。

    克莱拉坐在有些凉意的起居室里看着书。他看到了她白皙的脖颈和高高盘起的秀发。她站起身 来，冷淡地望着他，伸直胳膊跟他握了握手，那种态度就好象是要立即跟他保持一段距离，但又多少赏了他点面子。他注意到了她罩衫下的一对 乳房高高耸起，胳膊上方的薄纱下面露出富有曲线的肩膀。

    “你挑了一个好天。”他说。

    “碰得巧罢了。”她回答。

    “是啊，”他说，“我很高兴见到你。”

    她坐下了，没有对他的殷勤表示谢意。

    “一早上都干了些什么？”保罗问着米丽亚姆。

    “哦，你知道。”米丽亚姆沙哑地咳嗽着 说，“克莱拉是和爸爸一起 来的——所以——她才来不久。”

    克莱拉倚着桌子坐着，神情冷淡。他注意到她的手很大，但保养得不错。手上的皮肤看上去好象又粗又白， 没有光泽，长着细细的金黄色的汗毛。她没有在意他是不是在打量她的手。她故意不理会他。她那壮实的胳膊懒散地搭在桌子上，双唇紧闭，好象谁冒犯了她似的，脸微微侧着。

    “那天晚上你去了玛格丽特·邦弗德的聚会了吧？”他对她说。

    米丽亚姆从没见过保罗如此彬彬有礼。克莱拉瞟了他一眼。

    “是的。”她说。

    “咦，”米丽亚姆问，“你怎么知道？”

    “火车没到站时，我在那呆了几分钟。”他答道。

    克莱拉又傲慢地掉转头。

    “我觉得她是一个挺可爱的女人。”保罗说。

    “玛格丽特·邦弗德！”克莱拉大声说，“她要比大多数男人聪明得多。”

    “哦， 我没说她不聪明。”他分辩地说，“不过她挺可爱的。”

    “哦，那当然了。这是最重要的。”克莱拉咄咄逼人。

    他摸了摸脑袋， 有些困惑，也有些气恼。

    “我认为这比聪明更紧要，”他说，“毕竟，聪明不会把她带到天国。”

    “她要的不是去天国——而是在地球上得到公平的待遇。”克莱拉反驳道。她说话的口气仿佛他应该对邦弗德小姐被剥夺什么权利负责似的。

    “哦，”他说，“我觉得她很热心，是一个非常好的人——只是太脆弱了，我希望她能安安闲闲地坐着……”

    “给她丈夫补袜子。”克莱拉刺了他一句。

    “我保证，即使替我补补袜子她也不在意，”他说“而且我也保证，她一定会干得很好的。就象如果她要我给她擦皮鞋，我也毫不介意一样。”

    然而，克莱拉并没有理会他这句俏皮话。他跟米丽亚姆又聊了一会儿，克莱拉还是一副高傲的样子。

    “好了，”他说，“我想我得去看看艾德加，他是在地里吧？”

    “我想他拉煤去了，应该马上就回来的。”米丽亚姆说。

    “那么，”他说，“我去接他。”

    米丽亚姆不再敢建议他们三人一同去。他站起身走了。

    在路那头，金雀花盛开的地方，他看见艾德加正懒洋洋地走在一匹母马旁边，马头一点一点地正吃力地拉着一车煤。看到他的朋友后，这位年轻的农夫脸上立刻露出笑容，艾德加有一双黑色热情的眼睛， 长相英俊。他的衣服又旧又破，可他走路却很神气自豪。

    “嗨！”看见保罗光着头，就问：“你要去哪儿？”

    “来接你，受不了那个‘一去不返’。”

    艾德加乐呵呵地笑着，露出闪亮的牙齿。

    “谁是‘一去不返’？”他问。

    “那位太太——道伍斯太太——应该说是渡鸦夫人说的‘一去不返’。”

    艾德加被逗得哈哈大笑。

    “你不喜欢她？”他问。

    “一点也不喜欢。”保罗说，“那你呢？”

    “不喜欢！”这声回答干净利索。“不喜欢。”艾德加又噘起嘴来说，“我觉得她和我不是一条线上的人。”停了一会儿，又说：“但你为什么要叫她‘一去不返’呢？”

    “哦，是这样，”保罗说，“如果她看了一个男人一眼，她就会盛气凌人地说‘一去不返’，如果她回忆往事，她就会厌恶地这么说，如果她展望未来，她也会玩世不恭地这么说。”

    艾德加思量着这句话，没有弄明白是什么意思，就笑着说，“你觉得她是一个厌恶男人的人吗？”

    “她认为她是这种人。”保罗答道。

    “难道你不这么认为吗？”

    “不这么认为。”保罗回答。

    “那么，她对你好吗？”

    “你能想象她会对人好吗？”年轻人问道。

    艾德加大笑起来。两人一起把煤卸到了院子里。保罗非常谨慎，因为他知道如果克莱拉往窗外望的话，就能看见他，可她没望。

    马要在星期六的下午刷洗、调理一下，保罗和艾德加一起干着，吉米和弗拉握尬蹑子掀起的土呛得他们直打喷嚏。

    “有没有新歌可以教我？”艾德加问。

    艾德加一直干着活，当他弯下腰时就可以看见他颈背被晒得通红，那握着刷子的手很粗壮。保罗不时地看他一眼。

    “《玛丽·莫里逊》？”保罗建议。

    艾德加表示同意。他有一副很好的男高音嗓子。 他喜欢从朋友那儿学各种各样的歌。学会了后，他就可以在赶车时放声高歌。保罗的男中音嗓子就不怎么样了，不过耳朵很灵。不管怎么样，他还是低声唱了，唯恐被克莱拉 听见。艾德加却用男高音嗓子一句句地跟唱着。他俩不时地打着喷嚏，这个人打完，那个人打，还责骂着马。

    米丽亚姆对他们感到厌烦。他们——包括保罗在内——为一点小事就欣喜若狂。他竟会如此乐此不疲于琐碎小事，她以为简直不可思议。

    他们干完时已经到了吃茶点的时候了。

    “那是首什么歌？”米丽亚姆问。

    艾德加告诉了她。话题转到了唱歌上去。

    “我们常常这么快活。”米丽亚姆对克莱拉说。

    道伍斯太太慢慢地文雅地吃着茶点。不管什么时候，只要有男人在，她就变得很冷淡。

    “你喜欢唱歌吗？”米丽亚姆问她。

    “如果是好歌，我就喜欢。”她说。

    保罗脸刷地红了起来。

    “你是 说得阳春白雪的歌，经过专门训练嗓子吗？”他说。

    “我认为嗓子需要训练才能谈得上唱歌。”她说。

    “你不如叫人的嗓子在经过训练后才让他们张口说话。”他答道，“事实上，人们唱歌一般都是为了自己消遣。”

     “可别人听了也许觉得很难受。”

    “那么他们就应该把耳朵堵上。”他答道。

    孩子们都哈哈笑起来，接下来又是一片沉默，保罗脸色赤红，只顾默默吃着。

    茶点后，除了保罗外别的男人都走了。雷渥斯太太对克莱拉说：

    “你现在过得快活了点吗？”

    “快活极了。”

    “那你也很满意了？”

    “只要我能独立，能自由就够了。”

    “你觉得生活中不缺少什么东西吗？”雷渥斯太太温和地问。

    “我从来没有考虑过这个问题。”

    保罗极不自在地听着她俩的谈话，便站了起来。

    “你会发现你会被自己从不考虑的事情绊倒。”他说。然后，他就去了马棚。他觉得自己刚才说得很妙，那种男子汉的自豪又高涨起来。他顺着铺着砖石的小路 走着，嘴里还吹着口哨。

    不一会，米丽亚姆来找他，问他是否愿意陪她和克莱拉去散步。他们就向斯特雷利磨坊的畜牧场走去。他们沿着威利河畔走着，溪边剪秋萝在阳光照耀下，色彩浓艳，从树林边上的空缺看过去，只见在树林和稀稀朗朗的樟木丛那边，一个人牵着匹高大的枣红马穿过溪谷，这匹枣红大马远远地在昏暗的光彩下，浪漫地迈着舞步穿过那片朦胧的绿色榛树丛，在曾为窦德绿和伊带特开放过的已经凋谢了的蓝玲花中出没，真象是远久时代的情景。

    这三个人站在那儿，都被眼前的景色迷住了。

    “做个骑士，” 他说，“在这儿搭个大帐篷，那该是多好的享受啊！”

    “我们与世隔绝，过隐逸生活，对么？”克莱拉回答道。

    “是这样的。”他回答，“你们可以绣着花，和你们的使女唱着歌。我会给你们扛起白、绿、紫三色旗，并在盾牌上刻上一头凶狠的母狮，然后下面刻上‘妇女社会政治协会’的字样。”

    “我相信，”克莱拉说，“你情愿为妇女的生存去斗争，而不愿让她自己去斗争吧。”

    “我情愿。如果她为自己的生存去斗争，那就好象是一条狗在镜子前对着自己的影子狂吠一样。”

    “那么，你就是那面镜子了？”她撇着嘴问。

    “或是影子。”他答道。

    “我想你这个人恐怕有些聪明过头了。”她说。

    “那好，那我就把好人留给你做吧。”他笑着回答，“做个好人吧，美人儿，就让我聪明就行了。”

    然而克莱拉已经厌倦了他的贫嘴。他看着她，突然发现她那张高傲地仰起的脸上并没有讽刺的意味，而是一副伤心的神色。他的心不由得软了下来。他赶忙转过身去，对已被他冷落了半晌的米丽亚姆温柔起来。

    She liked him on Sundays. Then he wore a dark suit that showed thelithe movement of his body. There was a clean, clear-cut look about him. He went on with his thinking to her. Suddenly he reached for a Bible. Miriam liked the way he reached up--so sharp, straight to the mark. He turned the pages quickly, and read her a chapter of St. John. As he sat in the armchair reading, intent, his voice only thinking,she felt as if he were using her unconsciously as a man uses histools at some work he is bent on. She loved it. And the wistfulnessof his voice was like a reaching to something, and it was as if shewere what he reached with. She sat back on the sofa away from him,and yet feeling herself the very instrument his hand grasped. It gave her great pleasure.
　　Then he began to falter and to get self-conscious. And when hecame to the verse, "A woman, when she is in travail, hath sorrowbecause her hour is come", he missed it out. Miriam had felt himgrowing uncomfortable. She shrank when the well-known words didnot follow. He went on reading, but she did not hear. A griefand shame made her bend her head. Six months ago he would haveread it simply. Now there was a scotch in his running with her. Now she felt there was really something hostile between them,something of which they were ashamed.

    She ate her cake mechanically. He tried to go on with his argument,but could not get back the right note. Soon Edgar came in. Mrs. Morel had gone to her friends'. The three set off to Willey Farm.
　　Miriam brooded over his split with her. There was something elsehe wanted. He could not be satisfied; he could give her no peace. There was between them now always a ground for strife.She wanted to prove him. She believed that his chief need in lifewas herself. If she could prove it, both to herself and to him,the rest might go; she could simply trust to the future.
　　So in May she asked him to come to Willey Farm and meetMrs. Dawes. There was something he hankered after. She saw him,whenever they spoke of Clara Dawes, rouse and get slightly angry. He said he did not like her. Yet he was keen to know about her. Well, he should put himself to the test. She believed that therewere in him desires for higher things, and desires for lower, and thatthe desire for the higher would conquer. At any rate, he should try. She forgot that her "higher" and "lower" were arbitrary.
　　He was rather excited at the idea of meeting Clara at Willey Farm. Mrs. Dawes came for the day. Her heavy, dun-coloured hair wascoiled on top of her head. She wore a white blouse and navy skirt,and somehow, wherever she was, seemed to make things look paltryand insignificant. When she was in the room, the kitchen seemedtoo small and mean altogether. Miriam's beautiful twilightyparlour looked stiff and stupid. All the Leivers were eclipsedlike candles. They found her rather hard to put up with. Yet she was perfectly amiable, but indifferent, and rather hard.
　　Paul did not come till afternoon. He was early. As he swungoff his bicycle, Miriam saw him look round at the house eagerly. He would be disappointed if the visitor had not come. Miriam wentout to meet him, bowing her head because of the sunshine. Nasturtiums were coming out crimson under the cool green shadowof their leaves. The girl stood, dark-haired, glad to see him.
　　"Hasn't Clara come?" he asked.
　　"Yes," replied Miriam in her musical tone. "She's reading."
　　He wheeled his bicycle into the barn. He had puton a handsome tie, of which he was rather proud, and socks to match.
　　"She came this morning?" he asked.
　　"Yes," replied Miriam, as she walked at his side. "You said you'dbring me that letter from the man at Liberty's. Have you remembered?"
　　"Oh, dash, no!" he said. "But nag at me till you get it."
　　"I don't like to nag at you."
　　"Do it whether or not. And is she any more agreeable?"he continued.
　　"You know I always think she is quite agreeable."
　　He was silent. Evidently his eagerness to be early to-dayhad been the newcomer. Miriam already began to suffer. They wenttogether towards the house. He took the clips off his trousers,but was too lazy to brush the dust from his shoes, in spite of thesocks and tie.
　　Clara sat in the cool parlour reading. He saw the nape of herwhite neck, and the fine hair lifted from it. She rose, looking athim indifferently. To shake hands she lifted her arm straight,in a manner that seemed at once to keep him at a distance,and yet to fling something to him. He noticed how her breastsswelled inside her blouse, and how her shoulder curved handsomelyunder the thin muslin at the top of her arm.
　　"You have chosen a fine day," he said.
　　"It happens so," she said.
　　"Yes," he said; "I am glad."
　　She sat down, not thanking him for his politeness.
　　"What have you been doing all morning?" asked Paul of Miriam.
　　"Well, you see," said Miriam, coughing huskily, "Clara onlycame with father--and so--she's not been here very long."
　　Clara sat leaning on the table, holding aloof. He noticedher hands were large, but well kept. And the skin on them seemedalmost coarse, opaque, and white, with fine golden hairs. She didnot mind if he observed her hands. She intended to scorn him. Her heavy arm lay negligently on the table. Her mouth was closedas if she were offended, and she kept her face slightly averted.
　　"You were at Margaret Bonford's meeting the other evening,"he said to her.
　　Miriam did not know this courteous Paul. Clara glanced at him.
　　"Yes," she said.
　　"Why," asked Miriam, "how do you know?"
　　"I went in for a few minutes before the train came," he answered.
　　Clara turned away again rather disdainfully.
　　"I think she's a lovable little woman," said Paul.
　　"Margaret Bonford!" exclaimed Clara. "She's a great dealcleverer than most men."
　　"Well, I didn't say she wasn't," he said, deprecating. "She's lovable for all that."
　　"And, of course, that is all that matters," said Clara witheringly.
　　He rubbed his head, rather perplexed, rather annoyed.
　　"I suppose it matters more than her cleverness," he said;"which, after all, would never get her to heaven."
　　"It's not heaven she wants to get--it's her fair share on earth,"retorted Clara. She spoke as if he were responsible for somedeprivation which Miss Bonford suffered.
　　"Well," he said, "I thought she was warm, and awfully nice--onlytoo frail. I wished she was sitting comfortably in peace---"
　　"'Darning her husband's stockings,'" said Clara scathingly.
　　"I'm sure she wouldn't mind darning even my stockings," he said. "And I'm sure she'd do them well. Just as I wouldn't mind blackingher boots if she wanted me to."
　　But Clara refused to answer this sally of his. He talkedto Miriam for a little while. The other woman held aloof.
　　"Well," he said, "I think I'll go and see Edgar. Is heon the land?"
　　"I believe," said Miriam, "he's gone for a load of coal. He should be back directly."
　　"Then," he said, "I'll go and meet him."
　　Miriam dared not propose anything for the three of them. He rose and left them.
　　On the top road, where the gorse was out, he saw Edgar walkinglazily beside the mare, who nodded her white-starred foreheadas she dragged the clanking load of coal. The young farmer's facelighted up as he saw his friend. Edgar was good-looking, with dark,warm eyes. His clothes were old and rather disreputable, and hewalked with considerable pride.
　　"Hello!" he said, seeing Paul bareheaded. "Where are you going?"
　　"Came to meet you. Can't stand 'Nevermore.'"
　　Edgar's teeth flashed in a laugh of amusement.
　　"Who is 'Nevermore'?" he asked.
　　"The lady--Mrs. Dawes--it ought to be Mrs. The Raven that quothed'Nevermore.'"
　　Edgar laughed with glee.
　　"Don't you like her?" he asked.
　　"Not a fat lot," said Paul. "Why, do you?"
　　"No!" The answer came with a deep ring of conviction. "No!"Edgar pursed up his lips. "I can't say she's much in my line." He mused a little. Then: "But why do you call her 'Nevermore'?"he asked.
　　"Well," said Paul, "if she looks at a man she says haughtily'Nevermore,' and if she looks at herself in the looking-glass shesays disdainfully 'Nevermore,' and if she thinks back she says itin disgust, and if she looks forward she says it cynically."
　　Edgar considered this speech, failed to make much out of it,and said, laughing:
　　"You think she's a man-hater?"
　　"SHE thinks she is," replied Paul.
　　"But you don't think so?"
　　"No," replied Paul.
　　"Wasn't she nice with you, then?"
　　"Could you imagine her NICE with anybody?" asked the young man.
　　Edgar laughed. Together they unloaded the coal in the yard. Paul was rather self-conscious, because he knew Clara could see if shelooked out of the window. She didn't look.
　　On Saturday afternoons the horses were brushed down and groomed. Paul and Edgar worked together, sneezing with the dust that camefrom the pelts of Jimmy and Flower.
　　"Do you know a new song to teach me?" said Edgar.
　　He continued to work all the time. The back of his neckwas sun-red when he bent down, and his fingers that held the brushwere thick. Paul watched him sometimes.
　　"'Mary Morrison'?" suggested the younger.
　　Edgar agreed. He had a good tenor voice, and he loved to learnall the songs his friend could teach him, so that he could singwhilst he was carting. Paul had a very indifferent baritone voice,but a good ear. However, he sang softly, for fear of Clara. Edgar repeated the line in a clear tenor. At times they both brokeoff to sneeze, and first one, then the other, abused his horse.
　　Miriam was impatient of men. It took so little to amusethem--even Paul. She thought it anomalous in him that he couldbe so thoroughly absorbed in a triviality.
　　It was tea-time when they had finished.
　　"What song was that?" asked Miriam.
　　Edgar told her. The conversation turned to singing.
　　"We have such jolly times," Miriam said to Clara.
　　Mrs. Dawes ate her meal in a slow, dignified way. Whenever the men were present she grew distant.
　　"Do you like singing?" Miriam asked her.
　　"If it is good," she said.
　　Paul, of course, coloured.
　　"You mean if it is high-class and trained?" he said.
　　"I think a voice needs training before the singing is anything,"she said.
　　"You might as well insist on having people's voices trainedbefore you allowed them to talk," he replied. "Really, people singfor their own pleasure, as a rule."
　　"And it may be for other people's discomfort."
　　"Then the other people should have flaps to their ears,"he replied.
　　The boys laughed. There was a silence. He flushed deeply,and ate in silence.
　　After tea, when all the men had gone but Paul, Mrs. Leiverssaid to Clara:
　　"And you find life happier now?"
　　"Infinitely."
　　"And you are satisfied?"
　　"So long as I can be free and independent."
　　"And you don't MISS anything in your life?"asked Mrs. Leivers gently.
　　"I've put all that behind me."
　　Paul had been feeling uncomfortable during this discourse. He got up.
　　"You'll find you're always tumbling over the things you've putbehind you," he said. Then he took his departure to the cowsheds. He felt he had been witty, and his manly pride was high. He whistledas he went down the brick track.
　　Miriam came for him a little later to know if he would go withClara and her for a walk. They set off down to Strelley Mill Farm. As they were going beside the brook, on the Willey Water side,looking through the brake at the edge of the wood, where pink campionsglowed under a few sunbeams, they saw, beyond the tree-trunksand the thin hazel bushes, a man leading a great bay horse throughthe gullies. The big red beast seemed to dance romanticallythrough that dimness of green hazel drift, away therewhere the air was shadowy, as if it were in the past,among the fading bluebells that might have bloomedfor Deidre or Iseult.
　　The three stood charmed.
　　"What a treat to be a knight," he said, "and to havea pavilion here."
　　"And to have us shut up safely?" replied Clara.
　　"Yes," he answered, "singing with your maids at your broidery. I would carry your banner of white and green and heliotrope. I wouldhave 'W.S.P.U.' emblazoned on my shield, beneath a woman rampant."
　　"I have no doubt," said Clara, "that you would much ratherfight for a woman than let her fight for herself."
　　"I would. When she fights for herself she seems like a dogbefore a looking-glass, gone into a mad fury with its own shadow."
　　"And YOU are the looking-glass?" she asked, with a curlof the lip.
　　"Or the shadow," he replied.
　　"I am afraid," she said, "that you are too clever."
　　"Well, I leave it to you to be GOOD," he retorted, laughing. "Be good, sweet maid, and just let ME be clever."

    But Clara wearied of his flippancy. Suddenly, looking at her,he saw that the upward lifting of her face was misery and not scorn. His heart grew tender for everybody. He turned and was gentlewith Miriam, whom he had neglected till then.