and they treated her just like a hired servant. I used to sleep with
the girl in a wretched kitchen underground, and the poor thing kept
me awake every night with crying and complaining of her hard life.
It was no harder than mine, and I can't think she felt it more; but
I had even then a kind of stubborn pride which kept me from showing
what I suffered. I couldn't have borne to let them see what a
terrible change it was for me, all this drudgery and unkindness; I
felt it would have been like taking them into my confidence, opening
my heart to them, and I despised them too much for that. I even
tried to talk in a rough rude way, as if I had never been used to
anything better--"

"That was fine, that was heroic!" broke in Waymark admiringly.

"I only know it was miserable enough. And things got worse instead
of better. The master was a coarse drunken brute, and he and his
wife used to quarrel fearfully. I have seen them throw knives at
each other, and do worse things than that, too. The woman seemed
somehow to have a spite against me from the first, and the way her
husband behaved to me made her hate me still more. Child as I was,
he did and said things which made her jealous. Often when she had
gone out of an evening, I had to defend myself against him, and call
the daughter to protect me. And so it went on, till, what with fear
of him, and fear of her, and misery and weariness, I resolved to go
away, become of me what might. One night, instead of undressing for
bed as usual, I told Jane--that was the daughter--that I
couldn't bear it any longer, and was going away, as soon as I
thought the house was quiet. She looked at me in astonishment, and
asked me if I had anywhere to go to. Will you believe that I said
yes, I had? I suppose I spoke in a way which didn't encourage her to