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no draught； and the feeble little flame burned quite still； casting a
faint yellow stain on the ceiling like the refection from a buttercup
held beneath a chin。 These ceilings are far too low！ Across the
wide； squat window the apple branches fell in black stripes which
never stirred。 It was too dark to see things clearly。 At the foot
of the bed was a chest； and there Mrs。 Hopgood had sat down； moving
her lips as if in speech。 Mingled with the half…musty smell of age；
there were other scents； of mignonette； apples； and some sweet…
smelling soap。 The floor had no carpet； and there was not one single
dark object except the violin； hanging from a nail over the bed。 A
little； round clock ticked solemnly。
〃Why won't you give me that stuff； Mums？〃 Pasiance said in a faint；
sharp voice。 〃I want to sleep。〃
〃Have you much pain？〃 I asked。
〃Of course I have； it's everywhere。〃
She turned her face towards me。
〃You thought I did it on purpose； but you're wrong。 If I had； I'd
have done it better than this。 I wouldn't have this brutal pain。〃
She put her fingers over her eyes。 〃It's horrible to complain！ Only
it's so bad！ But I won't againpromise。
She took the sleeping draught gratefully； making a face； like a child
after a powder。
〃How long do you think it'll be before I can play again？ Oh！ I
forgotthere are other things to think about。〃 She held out her
hand to me。 〃Look at my ring。 Marriedisn't it funny？ Ha； ha！
Nobody will ever understandthat's funny too！ Poor Gran！ You see；
there wasn't any reasononly me。 That's the only reason I'm telling
you now； Mums is therebut she doesn't count； why don't you count；
Mums？〃
The fever was fighting against the draught； she had tossed the
clothes back from her throat； and now and then raised one thin arm a
little； as if it eased her； her eyes had grown large； and innocent
like a child's； the candle； too； had flared； and was burning clearly。
〃Nobody is to tell himnobody at all； promise。。。！ If I hadn't
slipped； it would have been different。 What would have happened
then？ You can't tell； and I can'tthat's funny！ Do you think I
loved him？ Nobody marries without love； do they？ Not quite without
love； I mean。 But you see I wanted to be free； he said he'd take me；
and now he's left me after all！ I won't be left； I can't！ When I
came to the cliffthat bit where the ivy grows right downthere was
just the sea there； underneath； so I thought I would throw myself
over and it would be all quiet； and I climbed on a ledge； it looked
easier from there； but it was so high； I wanted to get back； and then
my foot slipped； and now it's all pain。 You can't think much； when
you're in pain。〃
》From her eyes I saw that she was dropping off。
〃Nobody can take you away from…yourself。 He's not to be toldnot
evenI don'twant youto go away； because〃But her eyes closed；
and she dropped off to sleep。
They don't seem to know this morning whether she is better or
worse。。。。
VI
〃Tuesday； 9th August。
It seems more like three weeks than three days since I wrote。 The
time passes slowly in a sickhouse。。。！ The doctors were here this
morning； they give her forty hours。 Not a word of complaint has
passed her lips since she knew。 To see her you would hardly think
her ill； her cheeks have not had time to waste or lose their colour。
There is not much pain； but a slow； creeping numbness。。。。 It was
John Ford's wish that she should be told。 She just turned her head
to the wall and sighed； then to poor old Mrs。 Hopgood； who was crying
her heart out： 〃Don't cry； Mums； I don't care。〃
When they had gone； she asked for her violin。 She made them hold it
for her； and drew the bow across the strings； but the notes that came
out were so trembling and uncertain that she dropped the bow and
broke into a passion of sobbing。 Since then； no complaint or moan of
any kind。。。。
But to go back。 On Sunday； the day after I wrote； as I was coming
from a walk； I met a little boy making mournful sounds on a tin
whistle。
〃Coom ahn！〃 he said； 〃the Miss wahnts t' zee yu。〃
I went to her room。 In the morning she had seemed better； but now
looked utterly exhausted。 She had a letter in her hand。
〃It's this；〃 she said。 〃I don't seem to understand it。 He wants me
to do somethingbut I can't think； and my eyes feel funny。 Read it
to me； please。〃
The letter was from Zachary。 I read it to her in a low voice； for
Mrs。 Hopgood was in the room； her eyes always fixed on Pasiance above
her knitting。 When I'd finished； she made me read it again； and yet
again。 At first she seemed pleased； almost excited； then came a
weary； scornful look； and before I'd finished the third time she was
asleep。 It was a remarkable letter； that seemed to bring the man
right before one's eyes。 I slipped it under her fingers on the bed…
clothes； and went out。 Fancy took me to the cliff where she had
fallen。 I found the point of rock where the cascade of ivy flows
down the cliff； the ledge on which she had climbed was a little to my
righta mad place。 It showed plainly what wild emotions must have
been driving her！ Behind was a half…cut cornfield with a fringe of
poppies； and swarms of harvest insects creeping and flying； in the
uncut corn a landrail kept up a continual charring。 The sky was blue
to the very horizon； and the sea wonderful； under that black wild
cliff stained here and there with red。 Over the dips and hollows of
the fields great white clouds hung low down above the land。 There
are no brassy； east…coast skies here； but always sleepy； soft…shaped
clouds； full of subtle stir and change。 Passages of Zachary's
Pearse's letter kept rising to my lips。 After all he's the man that
his native place； and life； and blood have made him。 It is useless
to expect idealists where the air is soft and things good to look on
（the idealist grows where he must create beauty or comfort for
himself）； useless to expect a man of law and order； in one whose
fathers have stared at the sea day and night for a thousand years
the sea； full of its promises of unknown things； never quite the
same； a slave to its own impulses。 Man is an imitative animal。。。。
〃Life's hard enough；〃 he wrote； 〃without tying yourself down。 Don't
think too hardly of me！ Shall I make you happier by taking you into
danger？ If I succeed you'll be a rich woman； but I shall fail if
you're with me。 To look at you makes me soft。 At sea a man dreams
of all the good things on land； he'll dream of the heather； and
honeyyou're like that； and he'll dream of the apple…trees； and the
grass of the orchardsyou're like that； sometimes he only lies on
his back and wishesand you're like that； most of all like that。。。。〃
When I was reading those words I remember a strange； soft； half…
scornful look came over Pasiance's face； and once she said； 〃But
that's all nonsense； isn't it。。。？〃