Page 64 - sons-and-lovers

rily away, when he saw a drop of blood fall from the averted
wound into the baby’s fragile, glistening hair. Fascinated, he
watched the heavy dark drop hang in the glistening cloud,
and pull down the gossamer. Another drop fell. It would
soak through to the baby’s scalp. He watched, fascinated,
feeling it soak in; then, finally, his manhood broke.
‘What of this child?’ was all his wife said to him. But her
low, intense tones brought his head lower. She softened: ‘Get
me some wadding out of the middle drawer,’ she said.
He stumbled away very obediently, presently returning
with a pad, which she singed before the fire, then put on her
forehead, as she sat with the baby on her lap.
‘Now that clean pit-scarf.’
Again he rummaged and fumbled in the drawer, return-
ing presently with a red, narrow scarf. She took it, and with
trembling fingers proceeded to bind it round her head.
‘Let me tie it for thee,’ he said humbly.
‘I can do it myself,’ she replied. When it was done she went
upstairs, telling him to rake the fire and lock the door.
In the morning Mrs. Morel said:
‘I knocked against the latch of the coal-place, when I was
getting a raker in the dark, because the candle blew out.’
Her two small children looked up at her with wide, dis-
mayed eyes. They said nothing, but their parted lips seemed
to express the unconscious tragedy they felt.
Walter Morel lay in bed next day until nearly dinner-
time. He did not think of the previous evening’s work. He
scarcely thought of anything, but he would not think of that.
He lay and suffered like a sulking dog. He had hurt him-