‘He will never thank you,’ said Fulvia calmly. ‘You have been with us ever since he began to be ill, and you must know that. He will never thank you. There is only me to do that, and I can assure you I appreciate all you have done to lighten my anxiety in the matter. I am very much tied as it is. If it were not for you, I should be very badly off. I shall be extremely sorry if you go, and you may be sure that everything you do for your master you do in a sense for me. I cannot say any more. If you will go you will go. I cannot help it!’ ‘Well, ma’am, to accommodate you, I’ll try again. You are a very good mistress, so just and so liberal--all say that in the servants’ hall, and we all feel it,’ said Morrison handsomely. ‘From Mrs. Perkins down to the scullery-maid, not one of us ever thinks that you want to do us a wrong.’ ‘I am glad to hear it. You have guessed my feelings, at any rate, correctly. I wish all to be satisfied and happy as--possible.’ The words on her lips had been, ‘as I am sad and hopeless,’ but she stopped in time. Morrison retired, conquered, and Fulvia was left to realize that the words of praise given her by a domestic servant afforded her about as much pleasure as any she was likely to experience within the walls of her own house. Left alone, she sat still for awhile, and then, lifting her arms, clasped her hands above her head, saying to herself, ‘How long will it go on? How long shall I be able to endure it?’ For ever, seemed to be the answer. Had she not asked that very question of Minna in the days before her marriage? ‘Do you think I can go on living in this way for three weeks longer? Don’t you think something is sure to happen?’ Yet nothing had happened. Everything had gone on to its bitter end. She had been married, and had not died. She had been carried about in the company of Marchmont, hating him more and more every day, but she had survived it. She had not wasted away in a consumption, nor grown silent and wretched and broken in spirit. On the contrary, she had grown more and more beautiful, as she knew. As a girl, immediately after her marriage, she had seen both men and women look at her with undisguised delight, as something most beautiful and most charming. The admiration, then, had been as much what one gives to a beautiful child as to a woman.