opportunity； even if he had had the power； of entering intimately
into all that was exceptional in the weaver’s experience。 It was
only the want of adequate knowledge that could have made it
possible for Godfrey deliberately to entertain an unfeeling project：
his natural kindness had outlived that blighting time of cruel
wishes； and Nancy’s praise of him as a husband was not founded
entirely on a wilful illusion。
“I was right；” she said to herself； when she had recalled all their
scenes of discussion—”I feel I was right to say him nay； though it
hurt me more than anything； but how good Godfrey has been
about it！ Many men would have been very angry with me for
standing out against their wishes； and they might have thrown out
that they’d had ill…luck in marrying me； but Godfrey has never
been the man to say me an unkind word。 It’s only what he can’t
hide： everything seems so blank to him； I know； and the land—
what a difference it ’ud make to him； when he goes to see after
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things； if he’d children growing up that he was doing it all for！ But
I won’t murmur； and perhaps if he’d married a woman who’d have
had children； she’d have vexed him in other ways。”
This possibility was Nancy’s chief comfort； and to give it greater
strength； she laboured to make it impossible that any other wife
should have had more perfect tenderness。 She had been forced to
vex him by that one denial。 Godfrey was not insensible to her
loving effort； and did Nancy no injustice as to the motives of her
obstinacy。 It was impossible to have lived with her fifteen years
and not be aware that an unselfish clinging to the right； and a
sincerity clear as the flower…born dew； were her main
characteristics； indeed； Godfrey felt this so strongly that his own
more wavering nature； too averse to facing difficulty to be
unvaryingly simple and truthful； was kept in a certain awe of this
gentle wife who watched his looks with a yearning to obey them。 It
seemed to him impossible that he should ever confess to her the
truth about Eppie： she would never recover from the repulsion the
story of his earlier marriage would create； told to her now； after
that long concealment。 And the child； too； he thought； must
become an object of repulsion： the very sight of her would be
painful。 The shock to Nancy’s mingled pride and ignorance of the
world’s evil might even be too much for her delicate frame。 Since
he had married her with that secret on his heart； he must keep it
there to the last。 Whatever else he did； he could not make an
irreparable breach between himself and this long…loved wife。
Meanwhile； why could he not make up his mind to the absence
of children from a hearth brightened by such a wife？ Why did his
mind fly uneasily to that void； as if it were the sole reason why life
was not thoroughly joyous to him？ I suppose it is the way with all
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men and women who reach middle age without the clear
perception that life never can be thoroughly joyous： under the
vague dullness of the gray hours； dissatisfaction seeks a definite
object； and finds it in the privation of an untried good。
Dissatisfaction seated musingly on a childless hearth thinks with
envy of the father whose return is greeted by young voices—
seated at the meal where the little heads rise one above another
like nursery plants； it sees a black care hovering behind every one
of them； and thinks the impulses by which men abandon freedom；
and seek for ties； are surely nothing but a brief madness。 In
Godfrey’s case there were further reasons why his thoughts should
be continually solicited by this one point in his lot： his conscience；
never thoroughly easy about Eppie； now gave his childless home
the aspect of a retribution； and as the time passed on； under
Nancy’s refusal to adopt her； any retrieval of his error became
more and more difficult。
On this Sunday afternoon it was already four years since there
had been any allusion to the subject between them； and Nancy
supposed that it was forever buried。
“I wonder if he’ll mind it less or more as he gets older；” she
thought； “I’m afraid more。 Aged people feel the miss of children：
what would father do without Priscilla？ And if I die； Godfrey will
be very lonely—not holding together with his brothers much。 But I
won’t be over…anxious； and trying to make things out beforehand； I
must do my best for the present。”
With that last thought Nancy roused herself from her revery；
and turned her eyes again towards the forsaken page。 It had been
forsaken longer than she imagined； for she was presently
surprised by the appearance of the servant with the tea…things。 It
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was； in fact； a little before the usual time for tea； but Jane had her
reasons。
“Is your master come into the yard； Jane？”
“No； ’m； he isn’t；” said Jane； with a slight emphasis； of which；
however； her mistress took no notice。
“I don’t know whether you’ve seen ’em； ’m；” continued Jane；
after a pause； “but there’s folks making haste all one way； afore
the front window。 I doubt something’s happened。 There’s niver a
man to be seen i’ the yard； else I’d send and see。 I’ve been up into
the top attic； but there’s no seeing anything for trees。 I hope
nobody’s hurt； that’s all。”
“Oh no； I daresay there’s nothing much the matter；” said
Nancy。 “It’s perhaps Mr。 Snell’s bull got out again； as he did
before。”
“I wish he mayn’t gore anybody； then； that’s all；” said Jane； not
altogether despising a hypothesis which covered a few imaginary
calamities。
“That girl is always terrifying me；” thought Nancy； “I wish
Godfrey would come in。”
She went to the front window and looked as far as she could see
along the road； with an uneasiness which she felt to be childish；
for there were now no such signs of excitement as Jane had
spoken of； and Godfrey would not be likely to return by the village
road； but by the fields。 She continued to stand； however； looking at
the placid churchyard with the long shadows of the gravestones
across the bright green hillocks； and at the glowing autumn
colours of the Rectory trees beyond。 Before such calm external
beauty the presence of a vague fear is more distinctly felt—like a
raven flapping its slow wing across the sunny air。 Nancy wished
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more and more that Godfrey would come in。
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Chapter 18
ome one opened the door at the other end of the room； and
Nancy felt that it was her husband。 She turned from the
S
window with gladness in her eyes； for the wife’s chief dread
was stilled。
“Dear； I’m so thankful you’re come；” she said； going towards
him。 “I began to get—” She paused abruptly； for Godfrey was
laying down his hat with trembling hands； and turned towards her
with a pale face and a strange unanswering glance； as if he saw
her indeed； but saw her as part of a scene invisible to herself。 She
laid her hand on his arm； not daring to speak again； but he left the
touch unnoticed； and threw himself into his chair。
Jane was already at the door with the hissing urn。
“Tell her to keep away； will you？” said Godfrey； and when the
door was closed again he exerted himself to speak more distinctly。
“Sit down； Nancy—there；” he said； pointing to a chair opposite
him。 “I came back as soon as I could； to hinder anybody’s telling
you but me。 I’ve had a great shock—but I care most about the
shock it’ll be to you。”
“It isn’t father and Priscilla？” said Nancy； with quivering lips；
clasping her hands together tightly on her lap。
“No； it�
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