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the first thing in the morning。”
When they entered the cottage； Lisbeth was seated in her arm…
chair； too tired with setting out the evening meal； a task she
always performed a long time beforehand； to go and meet them at
the door as usual； when she heard the approaching footsteps。
“Coom； child； thee ’t coom at last；” she said； when Dinah went
towards her。 “What dost mane by lavin’ me a week an’ ne’er
coomin’ a…nigh me？”
“Dear friend；” said Dinah； taking her hand； “you’re not well。 If
I’d known it sooner； I’d have come。”
“An’ how’s thee t’ know if thee dostna coom？ Th’ lads on’y
know what I tell ’em。 As long as ye can stir hand and foot the men
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think ye’re hearty。 But I’m none so bad； on’y a bit of a cold sets me
achin’。 An’ th’ lads tease me so t’ ha’ somebody wi’ me t’ do the
work—they make me ache worse wi’ talkin’。 If thee’dst come and
stay wi’ me； they’d let me alone。 The Poysers canna want thee so
bad as I do。 But take thy bonnet off； an’ let me look at thee。”
Dinah was moving away； but Lisbeth held her fast； while she
was taking off her bonnet； and looked at her face as one looks into
a newly gathered snowdrop； to renew the old impressions of purity
and gentleness。
“What’s the matter wi’ thee？” said Lisbeth； in astonishment；
“thee’st been a…cryin’。”
“It’s only a grief that’ll pass away；” said Dinah； who did not
wish just now to call forth Lisbeth’s remonstrances by disclosing
her intention to leave Hayslope。 “You shall know about it shortly—
we’ll talk of it to…night。 I shall stay with you to…night。”
Lisbeth was pacified by this prospect。 And she had the whole
evening to talk with Dinah alone； for there was a new room in the
cottage； you remember； built nearly two years ago； in the
expectation of a new inmate； and here Adam always sat when he
had writing to do or plans to make。 Seth sat there too this evening；
for he knew his mother would like to have Dinah all to herself。
There were two pretty pictures on the two sides of the wall in
the cottage。 On one side there was the broad…shouldered； large…
featured； hardy old woman； in her blue jacket and buff kerchief；
with her dim…eyed anxious looks turned continually on the lily face
and the slight form in the black dress that were either moving
lightly about in helpful activity； or seated close by the old woman’s
arm…chair； holding her withered hand； with eyes lifted up towards
her to speak a language which Lisbeth understood far better than
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the Bible or the hymn…book。 She would scarcely listen to reading
at all to…night。 “Nay； nay； shut the book；” she said。 “We mun talk。 I
want t’ know what thee was cryin’ about。 Hast got troubles o’ thy
own； like other folks？”
On the other side of the wall there were the two brothers so like
each other in the midst of their unlikeness： Adam with knit brows；
shaggy hair； and dark vigorous colour； absorbed in his “figuring”；
Seth； with large rugged features； the close copy of his brother’s；
but with thin； wavy； brown hair and blue dreamy eyes； as often as
not looking vaguely out of the window instead of at his book；
although it was a newly bought book—Wesley’s abridgment of
Madame Guyon’s life； which was full of wonder and interest for
him。 Seth had said to Adam； “Can I help thee with anything in
here to…night？ I don’t want to make a noise in the shop。”
“No； lad；” Adam answered； “there’s nothing but what I must do
myself。 Thee’st got thy new book to read。”
And often； when Seth was quite unconscious； Adam； as he
paused after drawing a line with his ruler； looked at his brother
with a kind smile dawning in his eyes。 He knew “th’ lad liked to sit
full o’ thoughts he could give no account of； they’d never come t’
anything； but they made him happy；” and in the last year or so；
Adam had been getting more and more indulgent to Seth。 It was
part of that growing tenderness which came from the sorrow at
work within him。
For Adam； though you see him quite master of himself； working
hard and delighting in his work after his inborn inalienable
nature； had not outlived his sorrow—had not felt it slip from him
as a temporary burden； and leave him the same man again。 Do any
of us？ God forbid。 It would be a poor result of all our anguish and
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our wrestling if we won nothing but our old selves at the end of
it—if we could return to the same blind loves； the same self…
confident blame； the same light thoughts of human suffering； the
same frivolous gossip over blighted human lives； the same feeble
sense of that Unknown towards which we have sent forth
irrepressible cries in our loneliness。 Let us rather be thankful that
our sorrow lives in us as an indestructible force； only changing its
form； as forces do； and passing from pain into sympathy—the one
poor word which includes all our best insight and our best love。
Not that this transformation of pain into sympathy had completely
taken place in Adam yet。 There was still a great remnant of pain；
and this he felt would subsist as long as her pain was not a
memory； but an existing thing； which he must think of as renewed
with the light of every new morning。 But we get accustomed to
mental as well as bodily pain； without； for all that； losing our
sensibility to it。 It becomes a habit of our lives； and we cease to
imagine a condition of perfect ease as possible for us。 Desire is
chastened into submission； and we are contented with our day
when we have been able to bear our grief in silence and act as if
we were