he had to spend on his
maintenance, and when he left her to make his purchases his bearing
changed as soon as he got into the street. Away from the sanction of her
pity, he felt himself exposed without defence. He brushed the walls with
his shoulder. He mistrusted the queerness of the people; yet, by then,
even the town children had left off calling after him, and the tradesmen
served him without a word. The slightest allusion to his clothing had
the power to puzzle and frighten especially, as if it were something
utterly unwarranted and incomprehensible.

In the autumn, the driving rain drummed on his sailcloth suit saturated
almost to the stiffness of sheet-iron, with its surface flowing with
water. When the weather was too bad, he retreated under the tiny porch,
and, standing close against the door, looked at his spade left planted
in the middle of the yard. The ground was so much dug up all over, that
as the season advanced it turned to a quagmire. When it froze hard, he
was disconsolate. What would Harry say? And as he could not have so much
of Bessie's company at that time of the year, the roars of old Carvil,
that came muffled through the closed windows, calling her indoors,
exasperated him greatly.

"Why don't that extravagant fellow get you a servant?" he asked
impatiently one mild afternoon. She had thrown something over her head
to run out for a while.

"I don't know," said the pale Bessie, wearily, staring away with her
heavy-lidded, grey, and unexpectant glance. There were always smudgy
shadows under her eyes, and she did not seem able to see any change or
any end to her life.

"You wait till you get married, my dear," said her only friend, drawing
closer to the fence. "Harry will get you one."

His hopeful craze seemed to mock her own want of hope with so bitter an
aptness that in her nervous irritation she could have screamed at him
outright. But she only said in self-mockery, and speaking to him as
though he had been sane, "Why, Captain Hagberd, your son may not even
want to look at me."

He flung his head back and laughed his throaty affected cackle of anger.

"What! That boy? Not want to look at the only sensible girl for miles
around? What do you think I am here for, my dear--my dear--my dear?...
What? You wait. You just wait. You'll see to-morrow. I'll soon--"

"Bessie! Bessie! Bessie!" howled old Carvil inside. "Bessie!--my pipe!"
That fat blind man had given himself up to a very lust of l