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forenoon； because Mr。 Burge ’ull want to see me； and Seth shall
stay at home and begin the coffin。 I can come back at noon； and
then he can go。”
“Nay； nay；” persisted Lisbeth； beginning to cry； “I’n set my
heart on ’t as thee shalt ma’ thy feyther’s coffin。 Thee ’t so stiff an’
masterful； thee ’t ne’er do as thy mother wants thee。 Thee wast
often angered wi’ thy feyther when he war alive； thee must be the
better to him now he’s gone。 He’d ha’ thought nothin’ on ’t for
Seth to ma’s coffin。”
“Say no more； Adam； say no more；” said Seth； gently； though
his voice told that he spoke with some effort； “Mother’s in the
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right。 I’ll go to work； and do thee stay at home。”
He passed into the workshop immediately； followed by Adam；
while Lisbeth； automatically obeying her old habits； began to put
away the breakfast things； as if she did not mean Dinah to take her
place any longer。 Dinah said nothing； but presently used the
opportunity of quietly joining the brothers in the workshop。
They had already got on their aprons and paper caps； and
Adam was standing with his left hand on Seth’s shoulder； while he
pointed with the hammer in his right to some boards which they
were looking at。 Their backs were turned towards the door by
which Dinah entered； and she came in so gently that they were not
aware of her presence till they heard her voice saying； “Seth
Bede！” Seth started； and they both turned round。 Dinah looked as
if she did not see Adam； and fixed her eyes on Seth’s face； saying
with calm kindness； “I won’t say farewell。 I shall see you again
when you come from work。 So as I’m at the farm before dark； it
will be quite soon enough。”
“Thank you； Dinah； I should like to walk home with you once
more。 It’ll perhaps be the last time。”
There was a little tremor in Seth’s voice。 Dinah put out her
hand and said； “You’ll have sweet peace in your mind to…day； Seth；
for your tenderness and long…suffering towards your aged
mother。”
She turned round and left the workshop as quickly and quietly
as she had entered it。 Adam had been observing her closely all the
while； but she had not looked at him。 As soon as she was gone； he
said； “I don’t wonder at thee for loving her； Seth。 She’s got a face
like a lily。”
Seth’s soul rushed to his eyes and lips： he had never yet
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confessed his secret to Adam； but now he felt a delicious sense of
disburthenment； as he answered；
“Aye； Addy； I do love her—too much； I doubt。 But she doesna
love me； lad； only as one child o’ God loves another。 She’ll never
love any man as a husband—that’s my belief。”
“Nay； lad； there’s no telling； thee mustna lose heart。 She’s made
out o’ stuff with a finer grain than most o’ the women； I can see
that clear enough。 But if she’s better than they are in other things；
I canna think she’ll fall short of ’em in loving。”
No more was said。 Seth set out to the village； and Adam began
his work on the coffin。
“God help the lad； and me too；” he thought； as he lifted the
board。 “We’re like enough to find life a tough job—hard work
inside and out。 It’s a strange thing to think of a man as can lift a
chair with his teeth and walk fifty mile on end； trembling and
turning hot and cold at only a look from one woman out of all the
rest i’ the world。 It’s a mystery we can give no account of； but no
more we can of the sprouting o’ the seed； for that matter。”
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Chapter XII
In the Wood
hat same Thursday morning； as Arthur Donnithorne was
moving about in his dressing…room seeing his well…looking
T
British person reflected in the old…fashioned mirrors； and
stared at； from a dingy olive…green piece of tapestry； by Pharaoh’s
daughter and her maidens； who ought to have been minding the
infant Moses； he was holding a discussion with himself； which； by
the time his valet was tying the black silk sling over his shoulder；
had issued in a distinct practical resolution。
“I mean to go to Eagledale and fish for a week or so；” he said
aloud。 “I shall take you with me； Pym； and set off this morning； so
be ready by half…past eleven。”
The low whistle； which had assisted him in arriving at this
resolution； here broke out into his loudest ringing tenor； and the
corridor； as he hurried along it； echoed to his favourite song from
the Beggar’s Opera； “When the heart of a man is oppressed with
care。” Not an heroic strain； nevertheless Arthur felt himself very
heroic as he strode towards the stables to give his orders about the
horses。 His own approbation was necessary to him； and it was not
an approbation to be enjoyed quite gratuitously； it must be won by
a fair amount of merit。 He had never yet forfeited that
approbation； and he had considerable reliance on his own virtues。
No young man could confess his faults more candidly； candour
was one of his favourite virtues； and how can a man’s candour be
seen in all its lustre unless he has a few failings to talk of？ But he
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had an agreeable confidence that his faults were all of a generous
kind—impetuous； warm…blooded； leonine； never crawling； crafty；
reptilian。 It was not possible for Arthur Donnithorne to do
anything mean； dastardly； or cruel。 “No！ I’m a devil of a fellow for
getting myself into a hobble； but I always take care the load shall
fall on my own shoulders。” Unhappily； there is no inherent
poetical justice in ho