"I long to be heart and heart with her; and I am; but not always."
"Well, don't addle your brains about it. Your large kindness with dogs and beasts, and love of them, and discipline would please her best. If you could only treat her as you treat them."
"Treat her so! She's my wife."
"I know; and lucky for her. But remember she can't change any more than you can. The only difference is that she doesn't try to, and you do. All this brooding and morbidness and chewing over her light words is not worthy of a man. Be satisfied. You'll wear—you can take that to your comfort. You'll wear all through, and the pattern of you is like to be brighter in her eyes ten years hence than now. No call to go in such a fog of your own breeding. Wood and iron are different enough in their fashion as any two creatures in the world; but that doesn't prevent 'em from cleaving exceeding tight together. She knows all this well enough; she's a woman with rather more sense of justice than is common to them; and your future's sure, if you'll only be patient and content; for she loves you better far than she's ever told you, or is ever likely to."
CHAPTER V.
IN SPRING MOONLIGHT
Another springtime gladdened the heart of man and set the sap of trees, the blood of beasts, the ichor of the wild wood gods a-flowing. A green veil spread again, a harmony of new-born music, colour, scent, all won of sunshine, rose from feathered throats, from primroses, from censers of the fragrant furze; and there was whisper of vernal rains, ceaseless hurtle of wings, and murmur of bees; while upon new harps of golden green, soft west winds sang to the blue-eyed, busy young Earth-Mother, their immemorial song.
Honor Endicott moved amid the translucent verdure; and her eyes shadowed mystery, and her heart longed for her baby's coming, as a sick man longs for light of day. She found an awakening interest in her own sex—a thing strange to her, for few women had ever peeped within the portals of her life; but now she talked much with Mrs. Loveys and the matrons of Little Silver. She listened to their lore and observed how, when a woman's eyes do dwell upon her child, there comes a look into them that shall never be seen at any other time. She noticed the little children, and discovered with some surprise how many small, bright lives even one hamlet held. Black and brown-eyed, blue-eyed and grey; with white skins and red; with soft voices and shrill; rough and gentle; brave and fearful—she watched them all, and thought she loved them all, for the sake of one precious baby that would come with the first June roses. The little life quickened to the love-songs of the thrushes; it answered the throbbing music of river and wood; its sudden messages filled her eyes with tears; her heart with ineffable, solemn thrills of mother-joy. Great calm had spread its wings about Honor. She approached her ordeal in a high spirit, as of old-time mothers of heroes. She abstracted herself from all daily routine, but walked abroad with her husband in the long green twilights, or sat beside Mark Endicott and watched his wooden needles tapping as he talked. A recent pettiness of whim and fancy had almost vanished, though now and again she did express a desire and rested not until the fulfilment. Fear she had none, for the season of fear was passed, if it had ever clouded her thoughts. To Myles her attitude insensibly grew softer, and she found his wealth of affection not unpleasant as her time approached. She accepted his worship, received his gifts, even pretended to occasional fancies that he might have the pleasure of gratifying them.
There came an evening of most lustrous beauty. Mild rain had fallen during the day, but the sky cleared at nightfall, when the clouds gleamed and parted in flakes of pearl for the pageant of a full May moon. Silently she swam out from the rack of the rain; spread light into the heart of the spring leaves; woke light along the glimmering grass blades; meshed and sprinkled and kissed with light each raindrop of them all, until the whole soaking world was bediamonded and robed in silver-grey.
Honor turned from beholding her dim grass lands, the time then being nine.