"But it is sweet to hear it, all the same. It is a language little heard by me Alone, in that man’s keeping, with my shame. I never thought such miseries could be. I was so happy in you, Michael. He Came when I felt you changed from what I thought you. Even now it is not love, but jealousy that brought you." "That is untrue," he said. "I am in hell. You are my heart’s beloved, Mary, you. By God, I know your beauty now too well. We are each other’s, flesh and soul, we two." "That was sweet knowledge once," she said; "we knew That truth of old. Now, in a strange man’s bed, I read it in my soul, and find it written red." "Is he a brute?" he asked. "No," she replied. "I did not understand what it would mean. And now that you are back, would I had died; Died, and the misery of it not have been. Lion would not be wrecked, nor I unclean. I was a proud one once, and now I’m tame; Oh, Michael, say some word to take away my shame." She sobbed; his arms went round her; the night heard Intense fierce whispering passing, soul to soul, Love running hot on many a murmured word, Love’s passionate giving into new control. Their present misery did but blow the coal, Did but entangle deeper their two wills, While the brown brook ran on by buried daffodils. VII Upon a light gust came a waft of bells, Ringing the chimes for nine; a broken sweet, Like waters bubbling out of hidden wells, Dully upon those lovers’ ears it beat, Their time was at an end. Her tottering feet Trod the dim field for home; he sought an inn. "Oh, I have sinned," she cried, "but not a secret sin." Inside The Roughs they waited for her coming; Eyeing the ticking clock the household sat. "Nine," the clock struck; the clock-weights ran down drumming; Old Mother Occleve stretched her sewing flat. "It’s nine," she said. Old Occleve stroked the cat. "Ah, cat," he said, "hast had good go at mouse?" Lion sat listening tense to all within the house "Mary is late to-night," the gammer said. "The times have changed," her merry husband roared. "Young married couples now like lonely trade, Don’t think of bed at all, they think of board. No multiplying left in people. Lord! When I was Lion’s age I’d had my five. There was some go in folk when us two took to wive." Lion arose and stalked and bit his lip. "Or was it six?" the old man muttered, "six. Us had so many I’ve alost the tip. Us were two right good souls at getting chicks. Two births of twins, then Johnny’s birth, then Dick’s" ... "Now give a young man time," the mother cried. Mary came swiftly in and flung the room door wide. Lion was by the window when she came, Old Occleve and his wife were by the fire; Big shadows leapt the ceiling from the flame. She fronted the three figures and came nigher. "Lion," she whispered, "I return my hire." She dropped her marriage-ring upon the table. Then, in a louder voice, "I bore what I was able,