Page 396 - sons-and-lovers

‘Never mind, Little,’ he murmured. ‘So long as you don’t
feel life’s paltry and a miserable business, the rest doesn’t
matter, happiness or unhappiness.’
She pressed him to her.
‘But I want you to be happy,’ she said pathetically.
‘Eh, my dear—say rather you want me to live.’
Mrs. Morel felt as if her heart would break for him. At
this rate she knew he would not live. He had that poignant
carelessness about himself, his own suffering, his own life,
which is a form of slow suicide. It almost broke her heart.
With all the passion of her strong nature she hated Miriam
for having in this subtle way undermined his joy. It did not
matter to her that Miriam could not help it. Miriam did it,
and she hated her.
She wished so much he would fall in love with a girl equal
to be his mate—educated and strong. But he would not look
at anybody above him in station. He seemed to like Mrs.
Dawes. At any rate that feeling was wholesome. His mother
prayed and prayed for him, that he might not be wasted.
That was all her prayer—not for his soul or his righteous-
ness, but that he might not be wasted. And while he slept,
for hours and hours she thought and prayed for him.
He drifted away from Miriam imperceptibly, without
knowing he was going. Arthur only left the army to be mar-
ried. The baby was born six months after his wedding. Mrs.
Morel got him a job under the firm again, at twenty-one
shillings a week. She furnished for him, with the help of Be-
atrice’s mother, a little cottage of two rooms. He was caught
now. It did not matter how he kicked and struggled, he was