n, thinking that if she could read, as Paul said he could
read, "Colomba", or the "Voyage autour de ma Chambre", the world would
have a different face for her and a deepened respect. She could not be
princess by wealth or standing. So she was mad to have learning whereon
to pride herself. For she was different from other folk, and must not
be scooped up among the common fry. Learning was the only distinction to
which she thought to aspire.

Her beauty--that of a shy, wild, quiveringly sensitive thing--seemed
nothing to her. Even her soul, so strong for rhapsody, was not enough.
She must have something to reinforce her pride, because she felt
different from other people. Paul she eyed rather wistfully. On the
whole, she scorned the male sex. But here was a new specimen, quick,
light, graceful, who could be gentle and who could be sad, and who was
clever, and who knew a lot, and who had a death in the family. The boy's
poor morsel of learning exalted him almost sky-high in her esteem.
Yet she tried hard to scorn him, because he would not see in her the
princess but only the swine-girl. And he scarcely observed her.

Then he was so ill, and she felt he would be weak. Then she would be
stronger than he. Then she could love him. If she could be mistress of
him in his weakness, take care of him, if he could depend on her, if she
could, as it were, have him in her arms, how she would love him!

As soon as the skies brightened and plum-blossom was out, Paul drove off
in the milkman's heavy float up to Willey Farm. Mr. Leivers shouted in a
kindly fashion at the boy, then clicked to the horse as they climbed the
hill slowly, in the freshness of the morning. White clouds went on
their way, crowding to the back of the hills that were rousing in the
springtime. The water of Nethermere lay below, very blue against the
seared meadows and the thorn-trees.

It was four and a half miles' drive. Tiny buds on the hedges, vivid
as copper-green, were opening into rosettes; and thrushes called, and
blackbirds shrieked and scolded. It was a new, glamorous world.

Miriam, peeping through the kitchen window, saw the horse walk through
the big white gate into the farmyard that was backed by the oak-wood,
still bare. Then a youth in a heavy overcoat climbed down. He put up
his hands for the whip and the rug that the good-looking, ruddy farmer
handed down to him.

Miriam appeared in the doorway. She was nearly sixteen, very beautiful,
with he