ed and crossed out like a mistake--and swear, Gerald, swear to be
true to my blood in you. Never lie down before the mob, Gerald. Fight it
and stab it, and die fighting. It's a lost hope--but fight!

GERALD. Don't say these things here, mother.

MRS. BARLOW. Yes, I will--I will. I'll say them before you, and the
child Winifred--she knows. And before Oliver and the young woman--they
know, too.

MR. BARLOW. You see, dear, you can never understand that, although I
am weak and wasted, although I may be crossed out from the world like a
mistake, I still have peace in my soul, dear, the peach that passeth all
understanding.

MRS. BARLOW. And what right have you to it? All very well for you to
take peace with you into the other world. What do you leave for your
sons to inherit?

MR. BARLOW. The peace of God, Henrietta, if there is no peace among men.

MRS. BARLOW. Then why did you have children? Why weren't you celibate?
They have to live among men. If they have no place among men, why have
you put them there? If the peace of God is no more than the peace of
death, why are your sons born of you? How can you have peace with God,
if you leave no peace for your sons--no peace, no pride, no place on
earth?

GERALD. Nay, mother, nay. You shall never blame father on my behalf.

MRS. BARLOW. Don't trouble--he is blameless--I, a hulking, half-demented
woman, I am GLAD when you blame me. But don't blame me when I tell you
to fight. Don't do that, or you will regret it when you must die. Ah,
your father was stiff and proud enough before men of better rank than
himself. He was overbearing enough with his equals and his betters. But
he humbled himself before the poor, he made me ashamed. He must hear
it--he must hear it! Better he should hear it than die coddling himself
with peace. His humility, and my pride, they have made a nice ruin of
each other. Yet he is the man I wanted to marry--he is the man I
would marry again. But never, never again would I give way before his
goodness. Gerald, if you must be true to your father, be true to me as
well. Don't set me down at nothing because I haven't a humble case.

GERALD. No, mother--no, dear mother. You see, dear mother, I have rather
a job between the two halves of myself. When you come to have the wild
horses in your own soul, mother, it makes it difficult.

MRS. BARLOW. Never mind, you'll have help.

GERALD. Thank you for the assurance, darling.--Father, you don't mind
what mo