her spectacles, which she only used for near objects
and reading, the man removed his hat and stood facing her, and repeated
the word "Now!"

So absolutely convinced was she that he was merely under a
misconception, that she was really only putting on her glasses to humour
him, and give him time to find out his mistake. The fact that he had
addressed her as "mother" counted for absolutely nothing. Any man in the
village would address her as "mother," as often as not. It was
affectionate, respectful, conciliatory, but by no means a claim of
kinship. The word, moreover, had a distinct tendency to remove her
dislike of the speaker, which had not vanished with her fear of him, now
quite in abeyance.

"Indeed, sir," said she, after looking carefully at his face, "I cannot
call you to mind. I cannot doubt but you have taken me for some other
person." Then she fancied that something the man said, half to himself,
was:--"That cock won't fight."

But he seemed, she thought, to waver a little, too. And his voice had
not its first confidence, as it said:--"Do you mean to say, mother, that
you've forgotten my face? _My face!_"

The familiar word "mother" still meant nothing to her--a mere epithet!
Just consider the discrepancies whose reconciliation alone would have
made it applicable! When she answered, some renewal of trepidation in
her voice was due to the man's earnestness, not to any apprehension of
his claim. "I am telling God's own truth, master," she said. "I have
never set eyes upon ye in my life, and if I had, I would have known it.
There be some mistake, indeed." Then timorously:--"Whom--whom--might ye
take me for?"

The man raised his voice, more excitably than angrily. "What did I say
just now?--_mother!_--that's English, ain't it?" But his words had no
meaning to her; there was nothing in their structure to change her
acceptation of the word "mother," as an apostrophe. Then, in response to
the blank unrecognition of her face, he continued:--"What--still? I'm
not kidding myself, by God, am I?... No--don't you try it on! I ain't
going to have you running away. Not yet a while.... Ah--would you!"

He caught her by the wrist to check her half-shown tendency to turn and
run; not, as she thought, from a malefactor, but a madman. A cry for
help was stopped by a change in his tone--possibly even by the way his
hand caught her wrist; for, though strong, it was not rough or ungentle.
Little enough force was needed to de