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house； but these fits of violence usually occurred in the night； and
whatever had been their consequence； Susan had tidied and redded up
all signs of aught unusual before the morning。 For； above all； she
dreaded lest some one might find out in what danger and peril she
occasionally was； and might assume a right to take away her brother
from her care。 The one idea of taking charge of him had deepened and
deepened with years。 It was graven into her mind as the object for
which she lived。 The sacrifice she had made for this object only
made it more precious to her。 Besides； she separated the idea of the
docile； affectionate； loutish； indolent Will； and kept it distinct
from the terror which the demon that occasionally possessed him
inspired her with。 The one was her flesh and her bloodthe child of
her dead mother； the other was some fiend who came to torture and
convulse the creature she so loved。 She believed that she fought her
brother's battle in holding down those tearing hands； in binding
whenever she could those uplifted restless arms prompt and prone to
do mischief。 All the time she subdued him with her cunning or her
strength； she spoke to him in pitying murmurs； or abused the third
person； the fiendish enemy； in no unmeasured tones。 Towards morning
the paroxysm was exhausted； and he would fall asleep； perhaps only to
waken with evil and renewed vigour。 But when he was laid down； she
would sally out to taste the fresh air； and to work off her wild
sorrow in cries and mutterings to herself。 The early labourers saw
her gestures at a distance； and thought her as crazed as the idiot…
brother who made the neighbourhood a haunted place。 But did any
chance person call at Yew Nook later on in the day； he would find
Susan Dixon cold； calm； collected； her manner curt； her wits keen。
Once this fit of violence lasted longer than usual。 Susan's strength
both of mind and body was nearly worn out； she wrestled in prayer
that somehow it might end before she； too； was driven mad； or； worse；
might be obliged to give up life's aim； and consign Willie to a
madhouse。 From that moment of prayer （as she afterwards
superstitiously thought） Willie calmedand then he droopedand then
he sankand； last of all； he died in reality from physical
exhaustion。
But he was so gentle and tender as he lay on his dying bed； such
strange； child…like gleams of returning intelligence came over his
face； long after the power to make his dull； inarticulate sounds had
departed； that Susan was attracted to him by a stronger tie than she
had ever felt before。 It was something to have even an idiot loving
her with dumb； wistful； animal affection； something to have any
creature looking at her with such beseeching eyes； imploring
protection from the insidious enemy stealing on。 And yet she knew
that to him death was no enemy； but a true friend； restoring light
and health to his poor clouded mind。 It was to her that death was an
enemy； to her； the survivor； when Willie died； there was no one to
love her。
Worse doom still； there was no one left on earth for her to love。
You now know why no wandering tourist could persuade her to receive
him as a lodger； why no tired traveller could melt her heart to
afford him rest and refreshment； why long habits of seclusion had
given her a moroseness of manner； and how care for the interests of
another had rendered her keen and miserly。
But there was a third act in the drama of her life。
CHAPTER V。
In spite of Peggy's prophecy that Susan's life should not seem long；
it did seem wearisome and endless； as the years slowly uncoiled their
monotonous circles。 To be sure； she might have made change for
herself； but she did not care to do it。 It was； indeed； more than
〃not caring；〃 which merely implies a certain degree of vis inertiae
to be subdued before an object can be attained； and that the object
itself does not seem to be of sufficient importance to call out the
requisite energy。 On the contrary； Susan exerted herself to avoid
change and variety。 She had a morbid dread of new faces； which
originated in her desire to keep poor dead Willie's state a profound
secret。 She had a contempt for new customs； and； indeed； her old
ways prospered so well under her active hand and vigilant eye； that
it was difficult to know how they could be improved upon。 She was
regularly present in Coniston market with the best butter and the
earliest chickens of the season。 Those were the common farm produce
that every farmer's wife about had to sell； but Susan； after she had
disposed of the more feminine articles； turned to on the man's side。
A better judge of a horse or cow there was not in all the country
round。 Yorkshire itself might have attempted to jockey her； and
would have failed。 Her corn was sound and clean； her potatoes well
preserved to the latest spring。 People began to talk of the hoards
of money Susan Dixon must have laid up somewhere； and one young
ne'er…do…weel of a farmer's son undertook to make love to the woman
of forty； who looked fifty…five； if a day。 He made up to her by
opening a gate on the road…path home； as she was riding on a bare…
backed horse； her purchase not an hour ago。 She was off before him；
refusing his civility； but the remounting was not so easy； and rather
than fail she did not choose to attempt it。 She walked； and he
walked alongside； improving his opportunity； which； as he vainly
thought； had been consciously granted to him。 As they drew near Yew
Nook； he ventured on some expression of a wish to keep company with
her。 His words were vague and clumsily arranged。 Susan turned round
and coolly asked him to explain himself； he took courage； as he
thought of her reputed wealth； and expressed his wishes this second
time pretty plainly。 To his surprise； the reply she made was in a
series of smart strokes across his shoulders； administered through
the medium of a supple hazel…switch。
〃Take that！〃 said she； almost breathless； 〃to teach thee how thou
darest make a fool of an honest woman old enough to be thy mother。
If thou com'st a step nearer the house； there's a good horse…pool；
and there's two stout fellows who'll like no better fun than ducking
thee。 Be off wi' thee！〃
And she strode into her own premises； never looking round to see
whether he obeyed her injunction or not。
Sometimes three or four years would pass over without her hearing
Michael Hurst's name mentioned。 She used to wonder at such times
whether he were dead or alive。 She would sit for hours by the dying
embers of her fire on a winter's evening； trying to recall the scenes
of her youth； trying to bring up living pictures of the faces she had
then knownMichael's most especially。 She thought it was possible；
so long had been the lapse of years； that she might now pass by him
in the street unknowing and unknown。 His outward form she might not
recognize； but himse