“是吗，天哪！”莫瑞尔叫道，“你吃过饭没有？”
“没有呢。”
“你总是这样，”莫瑞尔说，“快来吧。”
父亲有些害怕儿子提及妻子。父子两人进了屋，保罗一声不吭地吃着饭。父亲双手全是泥巴，袖子卷着，坐在他对面的一张扶手椅子里，望着他。
“喂，她咋样了？”终于，莫瑞尔小声问道。
“可以坐起来，也能被抱着下楼喝茶了。”保罗说。
“真是上帝保佑啊！”莫瑞尔叫道，“我希望我们不久就能接她回来。诺丁汉姆的那个医生说了些什么？”
“他明天要去给她做检查。”
“啊呀，他真的要去吗！“那恐怕得用一大笔钱吧！”
“八个基尼！”
“八个基尼！”莫瑞尔几乎喘不过气来，“哦，咱们得想法弄钱去。”
“我能付得起。”保罗说。
父子俩沉默了片刻。
“她希望你能跟米妮和睦相处。”保罗说。
“好的。我很好。我也希望她跟以前一样健康。”莫瑞尔答道。“只是米妮太滑头。”他神情忧郁地坐在那里。
“我三点半就得走了。”保罗说。
“辛苦了，孩子！八个基尼！你 看她啥时候能好？”
“得看明天医生怎么说了。”保罗说。
莫瑞尔深深地叹了口气，屋子里显得异常的空寂。保罗感到他父亲苍老孤独，一副茫茫然有所失的样子。
“下个星期你得去看看她，爸爸。”他说。
“我倒希望下个星期她已经回到家里了。”莫瑞尔说。
“如果她没回来，”保罗说：“那你就一定得去。”
“我不知道上哪儿去弄钱。”莫瑞尔说。
“我会写信告诉你医生说了些什么。”保罗说。
“可你的信文绉绉的，我看不懂。”莫瑞尔说。
“好吧，我写得简单些就是。”
要求莫瑞尔写回信可没什么用，因为他除了自己的姓名外几乎什么都不会写。
医生来了。伦纳德认为有责任叫辆马车去接他。检查没用多久。安妮、亚瑟、保罗和伦纳德在客厅里焦急地等待着。两个医生冲他笑了笑。
“哦——去雪菲尔德！”他说着，指尖合拢在一起，笑眯眯说，“八个基尼，怎么样？”
“谢谢你！”保罗红着脸，站起身说，“你明天来吗？”
“明天——星期天？是的。你能告诉我下午火车的发车时间吗？”
“四点十五分中央车站有一趟车。”
“到你们家怎么走？要我走着去吗？”医生微笑着问。
“ 有电车，”保罗说，“去西园的。”
医生在本子上记了下来。
“谢谢你！”医生 说着眼保罗握握手。
接着，保罗回家去看了看父亲，现在米妮照顾着他、沃尔特·莫瑞尔现在头发已经白了很多。到家时，保罗 看见他正在园子里挖土。他已经给父亲写了一封信。父子俩握了握手。
“嗨，孩子！你回来了？”父亲 说。
“是的，”儿子回答，“不过今天晚上我就得回去。”
“是吗，天哪！”莫瑞尔叫道，“你吃过饭没有？”
“没有呢。”
“你总是这样，”莫瑞尔说，“快来吧。”
父亲有些害怕儿子提及妻子。父子两人进了屋，保罗一声不吭地吃着饭。父亲双手全是泥巴，袖子卷着，坐在他对面的一张扶手椅子里，望着他。
“喂，她咋样了？”终于，莫瑞尔小声问道。
“可以坐起来，也能被抱着下楼喝茶了。”保罗说。
“真是上帝保佑啊！”莫瑞尔叫道，“我希望我们不久就能接她回来。诺丁汉姆的那个医生说了些什么？”
“他明天要去给她做检查。”
“啊呀，他真的要去吗！那恐怕得用一大笔钱吧！”
“八个基尼！”
“八个基尼！”莫瑞尔几乎喘不过气来，“哦，咱们得想法弄钱去。”
“我能付得起。”保罗说。
父子俩沉默了片刻。
“她希望你能跟米妮和睦相处。”保罗说。
“好的。我很好。我也希望她跟以前一样健康。”莫瑞尔答道。“只是米妮太滑头。”他神情忧郁地坐在那里。
“我三点半就得走了。”保罗说。
“辛苦了，孩子！八个基尼！你看她啥时候能好？”
“得看明天医生怎么说了。”保罗说。
莫瑞尔深深地叹了口气，屋子里显得异常的空寂。保罗感到他父亲苍老孤独，一副茫茫然有所失的样子。
“下个星期你得去看看她，爸爸。”他说。
“我倒希望下个星期她已经回到家里了。”莫瑞尔说。
“如果她没回来，”保罗说：“那你就一定得去。”
“我不知道上哪儿去弄钱。”莫瑞尔说。
“我会写信告诉你医生说了些什么。”保罗说。
“可你的信文绉绉的，我看不懂。”莫瑞尔说。
“好吧，我写得简单些就是。”
要求莫瑞尔写回信可没什么用，因为他除了自己的姓名外几乎什么都不会写。
医生来了。伦纳德认为有责任叫辆马车去接他。检查没用多久。安妮、亚瑟、保罗和伦纳德在客厅里焦急地等待着。两个医生下楼了，保罗看了他们一眼，他从来就没报过什么希望，除非他自欺欺人。
“可能是肿瘤，我们必须再观察一下。”詹姆逊医生说。
“如果是肿瘤的话，”安妮问，“你们能把它除掉吗？”
“也许可以。”医生说。
保罗把八个基尼放在桌子上，医生数了数，然后从钱包里掏出了一枚弗洛林放在桌上。
“谢谢你！”他说，“莫瑞尔太太病得这么厉害我很遗憾，但我们必须观察一段时间再做决定。”
“不能 做手术吗？”保罗说。
医生摇了摇头。
“不行，”他说，“即使能做，她的心脏也受不了。”
“她的心脏有危险吗？“保罗问。
“是的，你们必须对她多加注意。”
“很危险吗？”
“不——哦——不，不！只是要当心。”
医生走了。
保罗抱着母亲下了楼。她像个孩子直直地躺在那儿，当他下楼梯时，她用双臂紧紧搂住 他的脖子。
“我真害怕这讨厌的楼梯。”她说。
这话让他也害怕起来了。下次他要让伦纳德来干。他觉得自己几乎无力 去抱她了。
“医生 认为只是一个肿瘤。”安妮对母亲大声说，“他能把它取掉。”
“ 我早知道他能。”莫瑞尔太太揶揄地说。
保罗已经走出屋子时，她装着没有注意。他坐在厨房里抽着烟。后来他想把衣服上的一点白灰掸去。仔细一看，却是母亲的一根灰色的头发，竟有这么长！他把它拿起来，发丝就朝烟囱飘起。他一松手，长长的灰发就飘飘悠悠地进了黑乎乎的烟囱。
第二天，在回去上班前，他来向母亲吻别。这时天色还早，房间里只有他们俩。
“你用不着担心，孩子！”她说。
“没有，妈妈。”
“别担心，不然就太傻了，你要自己多保重。”
“知道了。”他答道，过了一会又说：“我下个星期六会再来的，要不要我把爸爸也带来？”
“我想他还是愿意来的。”她回答道，“不管怎么样，只要他愿意来，你就让他来吧。”
他又吻了吻她，温柔地把她两鬓的发丝向后捋去，仿佛是他的情人。
“你要迟到了吧？“她喃喃地说。
“我马上就走。”他轻轻回答道。
他又坐了几分钟，把斑白的头发从她的鬓角捋开。
“你的病不会再恶化吧，妈妈？”
“不会的，孩子。”
“真的吗？”
“真的，我保证，病情不会更厉害。”
他吻了吻她，拥抱了她一会儿才走了。在这阳光明媚的早晨，他一路哭着向火车站跑去。他也不知道自己为什么要哭，他能想像得出她想他时那双蓝眼睛一定睁得又大又圆。
下午，保罗和克莱拉一起去散步。他们坐在一片片开满蓝铃花的小树林里。他握着她的手。
“你看着吧；”他对克莱拉说，“她不会康复了。”
“欧，你怎么知道！”克莱拉回答道。
“我知道。”他说。
她情不自禁地把他搂进怀里。
“想法忘了这件事吧，亲爱的，”她 说,“努力忘掉它。”
“我会忘掉的。”他回答道。
她那温暖的胸脯就在跟前等待着他，她抚摸着他的头发，让他觉得舒服，他不由得伸出胳膊搂住她。但他还是忘不了母亲的事。他只是嘴上跟克莱拉随便聊着什么。情况总是这样。她一感到他的痛苦又涌上他的心头，忍不住大声冲他喊道：
“别想了，保罗！别想了，亲爱的！”
她把他紧紧贴在胸前，当他是孩子似的又哄又摇安慰着他。于是为了她，他暂且把烦恼抛到了一边，但等到只剩下 他孤身一人时，烦恼又重新回来了。干活时，他一直在无意识地哭泣，尽管他的头脑和双手都在不停地忙着，他自己也不知道为什么要哭。这是他的血在哭泣。不管是跟克莱拉在一起还是跟白马酒家的那一伙男人在一起，他依然是那么孤独，只有他自己和心头的重负存在着。有时他也看会儿书。他不得不让脑子也忙碌起来。而且克莱拉也多少能占据他的一部分心思。
星期六那天，沃尔特·莫瑞尔到雪菲尔德来了。他形只影单，就像一个无家可归的人。保罗奔上楼梯。
“爸爸来了。”他说着，吻了吻母亲。
“他来了？”她有些疲倦地说。
老矿工怯怯地走进了卧室。
“你现在感觉怎么样？亲爱的？”说着，他走上前去，胆怯地吻了她一下。
“哦，还可以。”她回答道。
“我看得出。”他说道。他站在床边低头看着她，然后用手帕擦起了眼泪。他就这么看着她，无依无靠的，像是个无家可归的流浪汉。
“你过得挺好吧？” 他妻子有气无力地问，好像跟他说话要费很大的劲似的。
“是的。”他答道，“不过你也 知道，安妮做事总是磨磨蹭蹭的。”
“她能按时地把饭菜 给你做好吧？”莫瑞尔太太问。
“唉，有时候我还得对她大吼几句才行。”他说。
“是的，要是她没有做好，你是得吆喝几句才行。否则她总是把事情拖到最后关头才去做。”
她吩咐他几句，他坐在那儿看着她，仿佛她是一个陌生人。在这个“陌生人”的面前，他又尴尬又自卑，而且手足无措，只想逃走。他想逃走，迫不及待地想逃离这种令人难堪的局面。可他又不得不留下，为的是给别人一个好点的印象。这种复杂的心情使他目前的境遇更加尴尬。他愁眉苦脸的，拳头紧捏着放在膝头上。他觉得眼前的这一幕实在太尴尬了。
莫瑞尔太太在雪菲尔德住了两个月，她的病情没有多大变化。如果要 说有什么变化的话，那就是到最后，病情更加恶化了。她想回家，因为安妮也要照料自己的孩子。她病情太严重——坐不了火车，因此他们从诺丁汉弄来了一辆汽车。在明媚的阳光下，她们坐着车回家。这时，正是八月，秋高气爽，风和日丽。在蔚蓝的天空下，他们都看得出她已经不行了，然而她却显得比过去几个星期都兴奋。一路上大家又说又笑。
“安妮，”她叫道，“我看到有条国脚蛇从那块岩石上窜了过去。”
她的眼睛还是那么敏锐，她还是那么充满活力。
莫瑞尔知道她要回来，打开了大门正等着。大家都殷切地等待着她，几乎半条街的人都出动了。他们听见了汽车声，莫瑞尔太太面带笑容，回到了故里。
“看，他们都出来看我了！”她说，“不过，我想换了我也会这样的。你好吗，马修斯太太？你好吗，哈里逊太太？”
她们谁也没听见她说的话，不过她们看见她在微笑和点头。大家都说他们也看到了她脸上的死气。这可以算是这条街上的一件大事了。
莫瑞尔想要把她抱进屋里，可是他太老了，亚瑟象抱孩子一般毫不费力地抱起了她。他们把她放在炉边一张低陷的大椅子里，那里原来放着她的摇椅。她让他们拿掉裹在身上的东西，坐下来喝了一杯白兰地，然后环顾着房间。
“安妮，别以为我不喜欢你家。”她说：，“不过，还是回到自己的家里好。”
莫瑞尔沙哑着嗓子附和说：
“说得对，亲爱的，是这样的。”
那个挺有意思的小侍女米妮说：
“你回来了我们真高兴。”
她隔窗望去，只见园子里开满了可爱的金黄色的向日葵。
“那是我的向日葵啊！”她说。
"No."
"That's just like thee," said Morel. "Come thy ways in."
The father was afraid of the mention of his wife. The twowent indoors. Paul ate in silence; his father, with earthy hands,and sleeves rolled up, sat in the arm-chair opposite and lookedat him.
"Well, an' how is she?" asked the miner at length, in a little voice.
"She can sit up; she can be carried down for tea," said Paul.
"That's a blessin'!" exclaimed Morel. "I hope we s'll soonbe havin' her whoam, then. An' what's that Nottingham doctor say?"
"He's going to-morrow to have an examination of her."
"Is he beguy! That's a tidy penny, I'm thinkin'!"
"Eight guineas."
"Eight guineas!" the miner spoke breathlessly. "Well, we munfind it from somewhere."
"I can pay that," said Paul.
There was silence between them for some time.
"She says she hopes you're getting on all right with Minnie,"Paul said.
"Yes, I'm all right, an' I wish as she was," answered Morel. "But Minnie's a good little wench, bless 'er heart!" He satlooking dismal.
"I s'll have to be going at half-past three," said Paul.
"It's a trapse for thee, lad! Eight guineas! An' when dostthink she'll be able to get as far as this?"
"We must see what the doctors say to-morrow," Paul said.
Morel sighed deeply. The house seemed strangely empty,and Paul thought his father looked lost, forlorn, and old.
"You'll have to go and see her next week, father," he said.
"I hope she'll be a-whoam by that time," said Morel.
"If she's not," said Paul, "then you must come."
"I dunno wheer I s'll find th' money," said Morel.
"And I'll write to you what the doctor says," said Paul.
"But tha writes i' such a fashion, I canna ma'e it out,"said Morel.
"Well, I'll write plain."
It was no good asking Morel to answer, for he could scarcelydo more than write his own name.
The doctor came. Leonard felt it his duty to meet him with a cab. The examination did not take long. Annie, Arthur, Paul, and Leonardwere waiting in the parlour anxiously. The doctors came down. Paul glanced at them. He had never had any hope, except when he haddeceived himself.
"It MAY be a tumour; we must wait and see," said Dr. Jameson.
"And if it is," said Annie, "can you sweal it away?"
"Probably," said the doctor.
Paul put eight sovereigns and half a sovereign on the table. The doctor counted them, took a florin out of his purse, and putthat down.
"Thank you!" he said. "I'm sorry Mrs. Morel is so ill. But we must see what we can do."
"There can't be an operation?" said Paul.
The doctor shook his head.
"No," he said; "and even if there could, her heart wouldn'tstand it."
"Is her heart risky?" asked Paul.
"Yes; you must be careful with her."
"Very risky?"
"No--er--no, no! Just take care."
And the doctor was gone.
Then Paul carried his mother downstairs. She lay simply,like a child. But when he was on the stairs, she put her arms roundhis neck, clinging.
"I'm so frightened of these beastly stairs," she said.
And he was frightened, too. He would let Leonard do itanother time. He felt he could not carry her.
"He thinks it's only a tumour!" cried Annie to her mother. "And he can sweal it away."
"I KNEW he could," protested Mrs. Morel scornfully.
She pretended not to notice that Paul had gone out of the room. He sat in the kitchen, smoking. Then he tried to brush some grey ashoff his coat. He looked again. It was one of his mother's grey hairs. It was so long! He held it up, and it drifted into the chimney. He let go. The long grey hair floated and was gone in the blacknessof the chimney.
The next day he kissed her before going back to work. It was very early in the morning, and they were alone.
"You won't fret, my boy!" she said.
"No, mother."
"No; it would be silly. And take care of yourself."
"Yes," he answered. Then, after a while: "And I shall comenext Saturday, and shall bring my father?"
"I suppose he wants to come," she replied. "At any rate,if he does you'll have to let him."
He kissed her again, and stroked the hair from her temples,gently, tenderly, as if she were a lover.
"Shan't you be late?" she murmured.
"I'm going," he said, very low.
Still he sat a few minutes, stroking the brown and grey hairfrom her temples.
"And you won't be any worse, mother?"
"No, my son."
"You promise me?"
"Yes; I won't be any worse."
He kissed her, held her in his arms for a moment, and was gone. In the early sunny morning he ran to the station, crying all the way;he did not know what for. And her blue eyes were wide and staringas she thought of him.
In the afternoon he went a walk with Clara. They satin the little wood where bluebells were standing. He took her hand.
"You'll see," he said to Clara, "she'll never be better."
"Oh, you don't know!" replied the other.
"I do," he said.
She caught him impulsively to her breast.
"Try and forget it, dear," she said; "try and forget it."
"I will," he answered.
Her breast was there, warm for him; her hands were in his hair. It was comforting, and he held his arms round her. But he didnot forget. He only talked to Clara of something else. And itwas always so. When she felt it coming, the agony, she criedto him:
"Don't think of it, Paul! Don't think of it, my darling!"
And she pressed him to her breast, rocked him, soothed himlike a child. So he put the trouble aside for her sake, to take itup again immediately he was alone. All the time, as he went about,he cried mechanically. His mind and hands were busy. He cried,he did not know why. It was his blood weeping. He was just as muchalone whether he was with Clara or with the men in the White Horse. Just himself and this pressure inside him, that was all that existed. He read sometimes. He had to keep his mind occupied. And Clara was away of occupying his mind.
On the Saturday Walter Morel went to Sheffield. He wasa forlorn figure, looking rather as if nobody owned him. Paul ran upstairs.
"My father's come," he said, kissing his mother.
"Has he?" she answered wearily.
The old collier came rather frightened into the bedroom.
"How dun I find thee, lass?" he said, going forward and kissingher in a hasty, timid fashion.
"Well, I'm middlin'," she replied.
"I see tha art," he said. He stood looking down on her. Then he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Helpless, and as ifnobody owned him, he looked.
"Have you gone on all right?" asked the wife, rather wearily,as if it were an effort to talk to him.
"Yis," he answered. "'Er's a bit behint-hand now and again, asyer might expect."
"Does she have your dinner ready?" asked Mrs. Morel.
"Well, I've 'ad to shout at 'er once or twice," he said.
"And you MUST shout at her if she's not ready. She WILL leavethings to the last minute."
She gave him a few instructions. He sat looking at her asif she were almost a stranger to him, before whom he was awkwardand humble, and also as if he had lost his presence of mind,and wanted to run. This feeling that he wanted to run away,that he was on thorns to be gone from so trying a situation, and yetmust linger because it looked better, made his presence so trying. He put up his eyebrows for misery, and clenched his fists on his knees,feeling so awkward in presence of big trouble.
Mrs. Morel did not change much. She stayed in Sheffieldfor two months. If anything, at the end she was rather worse. But she wanted to go home. Annie had her children. Mrs. Morelwanted to go home. So they got a motor-car from Nottingham--for shewas too ill to go by train--and she was driven through the sunshine. It was just August; everything was bright and warm. Under the bluesky they could all see she was dying. Yet she was jollier than shehad been for weeks. They all laughed and talked.
"Annie," she exclaimed, "I saw a lizard dart on that rock!"
Her eyes were so quick; she was still so full of life.
Morel knew she was coming. He had the front door open. Everybody was on tiptoe. Half the street turned out. They heardthe sound of the great motor-car. Mrs. Morel, smiling, drove homedown the street.
"And just look at them all come out to see me!" she said. "But there, I suppose I should have done the same. How do you do,Mrs. Mathews? How are you, Mrs. Harrison?"
They none of them could hear, but they saw her smile and nod. And they all saw death on her face, they said. It was a great eventin the street.
Morel wanted to carry her indoors, but he was too old. Arthur took her as if she were a child. They had set her a big,deep chair by the hearth where her rocking-chair used to stand. When she was unwrapped and seated, and had drunk a little brandy,she looked round the room.
"Don't think I don't like your house, Annie," she said;"but it's nice to be in my own home again."
And Morel answered huskily:
"It is, lass, it is."
And Minnie, the little quaint maid, said:
"An' we glad t' 'ave yer."
There was a lovely yellow ravel of sunflowers in the garden. She looked out of the window.
"There are my sunflowers!" she said.
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