ousand things, mean and trifling in themselves,
which a man despises when he thinks of them in his philosophy, but
to dispense with which puts his philosophy to so stern a proof. Let
any plainest man who reads this think of his usual mode of getting
himself into his matutinal garments, and confess how much such a
struggle would cost him. And then children had come. The wife of the
labouring man does rear her children, and often rears them in health,
without even so many appliances of comfort as found their way into
Mrs. Crawley's cottage; but the task to her was almost more than she
could accomplish. Not that she ever fainted or gave way: she was
made of the sterner metal of the two, and could last on while he was
prostrate.

And sometimes he was prostrate--prostrate in soul and spirit. Then
would he complain with bitter voice, crying out that the world was
too hard for him, that his back was broken with his burden, that his
God had deserted him. For days and days, in such moods, he would stay
within his cottage, never darkening the door or seeing other face
than those of his own inmates. Those days were terrible both to him
and her. He would sit there unwashed, with his unshorn face resting
on his hand, with an old dressing-gown hanging loose about him,
hardly tasting food, seldom speaking, striving to pray, but striving
so frequently in vain. And then he would rise from his chair, and,
with a burst of frenzy, call upon his Creator to remove him from this
misery. In these moments she never deserted him. At one period they
had had four children, and though the whole weight of this young
brood rested on her arms, on her muscles, on her strength of mind and
body, she never ceased in her efforts to comfort him. Then at length,
falling utterly upon the ground, he would pour forth piteous prayers
for mercy, and after a night of sleep would once more go forth to his
work.

But she never yielded to despair: the struggle was never beyond
her powers of endurance. She had possessed her share of woman's
loveliness, but that was now all gone. Her colour quickly faded, and
the fresh, soft tints soon deserted her face and forehead. She became
thin, and rough, and almost haggard: thin till her cheek-bones were
nearly pressing through her skin, till her elbows were sharp, and her
finger-bones as those of a skeleton. Her eye did not lose its lustre,
but it became unnaturally bright, prominent, and too large for her
wan face. The soft