Outwardly there was little change in the bearings of the two women; it was only in feminine pinpricks and things implied that Mrs. Marston showed her anger and Hazel her dislike, and it was when he was out that Martha spoke so repeatedly and emphatically of being respectable. His coming into the house brought an armoured peace, but no sooner was he outside the door than the guns were unmasked again. Hazel wished more and more that she had stayed at Undern. She found a man's roughness preferable to women's velvet slaps, his most masterful demands less wearing than their silent criticism. At Undern she could not call her physical self her own. Here, her heart and mind were attacked. She could not explain to Mrs. Marston that something had made her go. Mrs. Marston would simply have said 'Fiddlesticks!' She could not explain that Reddin's touch drugged her. If Mrs. Marston had ever been made to feel that madness of passivity-- which seemed impossible, so that Edward's existence was a paradox--she had long since forgotten it. Besides, Hazel had no words in which to express these things; she was not even clear about them herself. She never tried to explain anything to Edward. She dreaded his anger, and she felt that only by complete silence could she keep the look of loving reverence in his eyes. She understood how very differently Reddin looked at her. It did not matter with him, but Edward--it was everything to her in Edward. Only once there had been a keen look of criticism in Edward's eyes, and her heart had fluttered. Edward said: 'Why, when you were dragged to Undern against your will, did you wear the man's gown? It wasn't dignified. And why did you cry out on him not to shame you? He could not shame you. You had done nothing wrong.' 'He said such awful things, Ed'ard, and the dress--the dress was so pretty.' 'You poor child! you dear little one! So it was a pretty colour, was it?' 'Ah!' 'You shall have one like it.' He went off whistling. * * * * * It was when she had been back nearly six weeks, and the August days were scorching the Mountain, that the strain became unbearable. She was not feeling well. Reddin had made no sign. This had at first calmed her, then piqued her; now it hurt her. Mysteriously she felt that she must be with him. 'He'm that proud, he'd ne'er ask me to go back. And if I went, there'd be no peace. Oh, Jack Reddin, Jack Reddin! You've put a spell on me! There inna much peace, days, nor much rest, nights, in your dark house. And yet--' Yet, whenever she went for a walk, she felt her feet taking her towards Undern. Then, quite suddenly, one morning Reddin rode past the house. Mrs. Marston saw him. 'Edward must know of this,' she said, very much flustered. 'You ought to go away somewhere, Hazel.' 'Away? Why ever?' 'Out of temptation. Why not to your aunt's?' 'Aunt Prowde wouldna have me. And Ed'ard wouldna like me to go.' 'Edward, I am sure, thinks as I do.' 'Gospel?'