Then sometimes there was not enough to eat,
and every one grumbled at her; or some one's clothes were not mended, and
she was grumbled at again. And sometimes a foraging party brought home
liquor, and all who could got drunk to drive dull care away; and Hereward,
forgetful of all her warnings, got more than was good for him likewise;
and at night she coiled herself up in her furs, cold and contemptuous; and
Hereward coiled himself up, guilty and defiant, and woke her again and
again with startings and wild words in his sleep. And she felt that her
beauty was gone, and that he saw it; and she fancied him (perhaps it was
only fancy) less tender than of yore; and then in very pride disdained to
take any care of her person, and said to herself, though she dare not say
it to him, that if he only loved her for her face, he did not love her at
all. And because she fancied him cold at times, she was cold likewise, and
grew less and less caressing, when for his sake, as well as her own, she
should have grown more so day by day.
Alas for them! there are many excuses. Sorrow may be a softening medicine
at last, but at first it is apt to be a hardening one; and that savage
outlaw life which they were leading can never have been a wholesome one
for any soul of man, and its graces must have existed only in the brains
of harpers and gleemen.
Pages:
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563