could do
something for the joint benefit of the firm into which she had been
taken as a partner! How happy she had been in her struggles, how
piteously had her heart yearned towards him when she thought that he
was struggling too fiercely, how brave and constant he had been; and
how she had loved him as he sat steady as a rock at his grinding
work! Now had come the great success of which they had both dreamed
together, of which they had talked as arm in arm they were taking the
exercise that was so needful to him, walking quickly round Russell
Square, quickly round Bloomsbury Square and Bedford Square, and so
back to the grinding work in Keppel Street. It had come now--all of
which they had dreamed, and more than all they had dared to hope.
But of what good was it? Was he happy? No; he was fretful, bilious,
and worn with toil which was hard to him because he ate and drank
too much; he was ill at ease in public, only half understanding the
political life which he was obliged to assume in his new ambition;
and he was sick in his conscience--she was sure that must be so: he
could not thus neglect her, his loving, constant wife, without some
pangs of remorse. And was she happy? She might have revelled in silks
and satins, if silks and satins would have done her old heart good.
But they would do her no good. How she had joyed in a new dress when
it had been so hard to come by, so slow in coming, and when he would
go with her to the choosing of it! But her gowns now were hardly
of more interest to her than the joints of meat which the butcher
brought to the door with the utmost regularity. It behoved the
butcher to send good beef and the milliner to send good silk, and
there was an end of it.

Not but what she could have been ecstatic about a full skirt on a
smart body if he would have cared to look at it. In truth she was
still soft and young enough within, though stout, and solid, and
somewhat aged without. Though she looked cross and surly that night,
there was soft poetry within her heart. If Providence, who had
bountifully given, would now by chance mercifully take away those
gifts, would she not then forgive everything and toil for him again
with the same happiness as before? Ah! yes; she could forgive
everything, anything, if he would only return and be contented to
sit opposite to her once again. "O mortal Delius, dearest lord and
husband!" she exclaimed within her own breast, in language somewhat
differing from th