he answered.

And Miriam, thinking he had assured himself, felt strong in herself. She
always regarded that sudden coming upon him in the lane as a revelation.
And this conversation remained graven in her mind as one of the letters
of the law.

Now she stood with him and for him. When, about this time, he outraged
the family feeling at Willey Farm by some overbearing insult, she stuck
to him, and believed he was right. And at this time she dreamed
dreams of him, vivid, unforgettable. These dreams came again later on,
developed to a more subtle psychological stage.

On the Easter Monday the same party took an excursion to Wingfield
Manor. It was great excitement to Miriam to catch a train at Sethley
Bridge, amid all the bustle of the Bank Holiday crowd. They left the
train at Alfreton. Paul was interested in the street and in the colliers
with their dogs. Here was a new race of miners. Miriam did not live till
they came to the church. They were all rather timid of entering, with
their bags of food, for fear of being turned out. Leonard, a comic, thin
fellow, went first; Paul, who would have died rather than be sent back,
went last. The place was decorated for Easter. In the font hundreds of
white narcissi seemed to be growing. The air was dim and coloured from
the windows and thrilled with a subtle scent of lilies and narcissi. In
that atmosphere Miriam's soul came into a glow. Paul was afraid of the
things he mustn't do; and he was sensitive to the feel of the place.
Miriam turned to him. He answered. They were together. He would not go
beyond the Communion-rail. She loved him for that. Her soul expanded
into prayer beside him. He felt the strange fascination of shadowy
religious places. All his latent mysticism quivered into life. She was
drawn to him. He was a prayer along with her.

Miriam very rarely talked to the other lads. They at once became awkward
in conversation with her. So usually she was silent.

It was past midday when they climbed the steep path to the manor.
All things shone softly in the sun, which was wonderfully warm and
enlivening. Celandines and violets were out. Everybody was tip-top full
with happiness. The glitter of the ivy, the soft, atmospheric grey
of the castle walls, the gentleness of everything near the ruin, was
perfect.

The manor is of hard, pale grey stone, and the other walls are blank and
calm. The young folk were in raptures. They went in trepidation, almost
afraid that the