Chapter 7 - Page 2

to her. Even her soul, so strong for rhapsody,
was not enough. She must have something to reinforce her pride,
because she felt different from other people. Paul she eyed
rather wistfully. On the whole, she scorned the male sex.
But here was a new specimen, quick, light, graceful, who could
be gentle and who could be sad, and who was clever, and who knew
a lot, and who had a death in the family. The boy's poor
morsel of learning exalted him almost sky-high in her esteem.
Yet she tried hard to scorn him, because he would not see in her
the princess but only the swine-girl. And he scarcely observed her.

Then he was so ill, and she felt he would be weak. Then she
would be stronger than he. Then she could love him. If she could
be mistress of him in his weakness, take care of him, if he could
depend on her, if she could, as it were, have him in her arms,
how she would love him!

As soon as the skies brightened and plum-blossom was out,
Paul drove off in the milkman's heavy float up to Willey Farm.
Mr. Leivers shouted in a kindly fashion at the boy, then clicked
to the horse as they climbed the hill slowly, in the freshness
of the morning. White clouds went on their way, crowding to the
back of the hills that were rousing in the springtime. The water
of Nethermere lay below, very blue against the seared meadows and
the thorn-trees.

It was four and a half miles' drive. Tiny buds on the hedges,
vivid as copper-green, were opening into rosettes; and thrushes called,
and blackbirds shrieked and scolded. It was a new, glamorous world.

Miriam, peeping through the kitchen window, saw the horse walk
through the big white gate into the farmyard that was backed by the
oak-wood, still bare. Then a youth in a heavy overcoat climbed down.
He put up his hands for the whip and the rug that the good-looking,
ruddy farmer handed down to him.

Miriam appeared in the doorway. She was nearly sixteen,
very beautiful, with her warm colouring, her gravity, her eyes
dilating suddenly like an ecstasy.

"I say," said Paul, turning shyly aside, "your daffodils
are nearly out. Isn't it early? But don't they look cold?"

"Cold!" said Miriam, in her musical, caressing voice.

"The green on their buds---" and he faltered into silence timidly.

"Let me take the rug," said Miriam over-gently.

"I can carry it," he answered, rather injured. But he yielded
it to her.

Then Mrs. Leivers appeared.

"I'm sure you're tired and cold," she said. "Let me take
your coat. It IS heavy. You mustn't walk far in it."

She helped him off with his coat. He was quite unused
to such attention. She was almost smothered under its weight.

"Why, mother," laughed the farmer as