boy! who had been her chief, almost only companion for
years; who was more dear--was he more dear?--than any one; who was her
very own, all her own, with no feeling in his mind or experience in his
little consciousness that was not all hers,--and this man bade her send
him away, separate from her child: this--man. It is not safe for a union
when one of the parties thinks of the other as that man. All at once a
light had flashed up in Lady Markland's heart. She had been made very
soft, very submissive, by her marriage. She had married a young man,
younger than herself. She had seemed to herself ever since to be asking
pardon of him and of the world for doing so. But now his violence had
called her back to herself. She had not been too soft or submissive in
the old days. She had been a woman with a marked character, not always
yielding. The temporary seemed suddenly to disappear out of her life,
and the original came back. She stood for a moment looking after her
child, and then, being feeble of body, though waking up to such force of
mind, she went to a bench which stood on the edge of the road, and sat
down there. "If this is as you say, it is better that we should
understand each other," she said.

Her tone had changed. From the anxiety to soften and smooth everything,
the constant strain of deprecation and apology which had become habitual
to her, she had suddenly emerged into a composure which was ominous,
which was almost tragic. Even the act of sitting down, which was due to
her weakness, made her appear as if taking a high position, assuming an
almost judicial place. She did not intend it so, but this was the effect
it produced upon Warrender, stinging him more deeply still. He felt that
he was judged, that his wife had thrown off the yoke which he had made
so heavy, and that his chance of bringing her back to her subjection, and
of forcing her into the new and sudden decision which he called for, was
small. This conviction increased his fury, but it also made him restrain
the outward signs of it. He went after her, and stood in front of the
bench of which she had made a sort of judicial throne.

"You are right in that," he said. "Things have gone too far to return to
their old level. I must have my house to myself, and for that reason it
must be my own. I wish you to come with me to the Warren,--the children
and you."

"Your mother and your sisters are there," she said, fixing upon him a
steady look.

"What d