er frank ridicule,
or else great reverence, is the mood for witnessing so delicate and
strong, so racial a thing. Yet this love-light, seen in the eyes of a
man and wife who have been married ten years, and have settled down
long ago to the humdrum of married life, seems to me a far finer
manifestation of the hither mysteries, a far greater triumph. What
freshness, what perpetual rejuvenation they must possess! The more one
regards such a thing, the more magnificent and far-reaching it appears.
No philosophical bulwark against trouble can compare with it. Such love
ceases to be a matter for novels and selected moments and certain lusty
ages; ceases to be exceptional. It is the greatest of those very great
things, the commonplaces. Tony tells me that when he comes in at night,
cold from fishing, Mrs Widger always turns over to the other side of
the bed, leaving him a warm place to creep into. Mrs Widger says that
no matter what time Tony comes in or gets up, he never fails to make,
and take her up, a cup o' tay. So does their love direct the prosaic
details of living in one house together. I do not think I am wrong in
fancying that it percolates right down through the household, and even
contributes to the restfulness I feel here, spite of unorderly children
and the strident voices. "Yu dang'd ol' fule!" can mean so much. Here
it appears to be an expression of almost limitless confidence.

Mrs Widger has put me this time into the front bedroom, which overlooks
the Square and has, through the Gut, a narrow view of the sea.

Tony's sister, who lives almost next door, is giving birth to a child
this evening. I can see the light in her window--a brighter light than
usual,--and the shadows passing across the yellow blind. Many other
eyes are turned towards the window. There is a subdued chatter in the
Square.

3

Little did I foresee what sleeping in the front bedroom means. Tony's
sister gave birth to a boy about ten o'clock. On hearing that
everything was as it should be, I went to bed, but, alack! not to
sleep. For the subdued chatter grew into an uproar which continued till
fully midnight. All the women in the neighbourhood seemed to have come
this way; and they meg-megged, and they laughed, and when their
children awoke they shouted up at the windows from outside. I heard
snatches of childbearing adventures, astonishing yarns, interspersed
with hard commonsense, not to say cynicism--the cynicism of people who
cann