Howth, tell her what he meant to do. Because he was going to
leave a clean record. No one should accuse him of want of
honour. This girl alone of all living beings had a right to see
him as he stood, justified to himself. Why she had this right, I
do not think he answered to himself. Besides, he must see her,
if only on business. She must keep her place at the mill: he
would not begin his new life by an act of injustice, taking the
bread out of Margret's mouth. LITTLE MARGRET! He stopped
suddenly, looking down into a deep pool of water by the
road-side. What madness of weariness crossed his brain just then
I do not know. He shook it off. Was he mad? Life was worth
more to him than to other men, he thought; and perhaps he was
right. He went slowly through the cool dusk, looking across the
fields, up at the pale, frightened face of the moon hooded in
clouds: he did not dare to look, with all his iron nerve, at the
dark figure beyond him on the road. She was sitting there just
where he had left her: he knew she would be. When he came
closer, she got up, not looking towards him; but he saw her clasp
her hands behind her, the fingers plucking weakly at each other.
It was an old, childish fashion of hers, when she was frightened
or hurt. It would only need a word, and he could be quiet and
firm,--she was such a child compared to him: he always had
thought of her so. He went on up to her slowly, and stopped;
when she looked at him, he untied the linen bonnet that hid her
face, and threw it back. How thin and tired the little face had
grown! Poor child! He put his strong arm kindly about her, and
stooped to kiss her hand, but she drew it away. God! what did
she do that for? Did not she know that he could put his head
beneath her foot then, he was so mad with pity for the woman he
had wronged? Not love, he thought, controlling himself,--it was