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For ten months he had to stay at home after his illness. For a while he went to Skegness with his mother, and was perfectly happy. But even from the seaside he wrote long letters to Mrs. Leivers about the shore and the sea. And he brought back his beloved sketches of the flat Lincoln coast, anxious for them to see. Almost they would interest the Leivers more than they interested his mother.
Presently his mother came out, and they went through the buildings. Paul was hugely delighted. "And I suppose you have the fowls and calves and pigs to look after?" said Mrs. Morel to Mrs. Leivers. "No," replied the little woman. "I can't find time to look after cattle, and I'm not used to it. It's as much as I can do to keep going in the house." "Well, I suppose it is," said Mrs. Morel.
I was just going down the fields for the first time this year." He felt she would like him to come. That soothed him. They went, talking simply, he gentle and humble. He could have wept with gratitude that she was deferential to him. He was feeling humiliated. At the bottom of the Mow Close they found a thrush's nest. "Shall I show you the eggs?" he said. "Do!" replied Mrs. Leivers.
So he went as often, but he was usually with Edgar. Only all the family, including the father, joined in charades and games at evening. And later, Miriam drew them together, and they read Macbeth out of penny books, taking parts. It was great excitement. Miriam was glad, and Mrs. Leivers was glad, and Mr. Leivers enjoyed it.
The farm had been originally a labourer's cottage. And the furniture was old and battered. But Paul loved it loved the sack-bag that formed the hearthrug, and the funny little corner under the stairs, and the small window deep in the corner, through which, bending a little, he could see the plum trees in the back garden and the lovely round hills beyond. "Won't you lie down?" said Mrs. Leivers.
Only to be there was an exhilaration and a joy to him. He loved Mrs. Leivers, with her unworldliness and her quaint cynicism; he loved Mr. Leivers, so warm and young and lovable; he loved Edgar, who lit up when he came, and the boys and the children and Bill even the sow Circe and the Indian game-cock called Tippoo. All this besides Miriam. He could not give it up.
The room was hot, with a scent of new bread. Brown, crisp loaves stood on the hearth. "I shouldn't have expected to see you here to-night, Miriam Leivers," said Beatrice wickedly. "Why not?" murmured Miriam huskily. "Why, let's look at your shoes." Miriam remained uncomfortably still. "If tha doesna tha durs'na," laughed Beatrice. Miriam put her feet from under her dress.
Then they went out into the wood that was flooded with bluebells, while fumy forget-me-nots were in the paths. The mother and son were in ecstasy together. When they got back to the house, Mr. Leivers and Edgar, the eldest son, were in the kitchen. Edgar was about eighteen. Then Geoffrey and Maurice, big lads of twelve and thirteen, were in from school. Mr.
Miriam had suffered a great deal, and was afraid to see him again. Was she now to endure the ignominy of his abandoning her? That would only be superficial and temporary. He would come back. She held the keys to his soul. But meanwhile, how he would torture her with his battle against her. She shrank from it. However, the Sunday after Easter he came to tea. Mrs. Leivers was glad to see him.
"Cold!" said Miriam, in her musical, caressing voice. "The green on their buds " and he faltered into silence timidly. "Let me take the rug," said Miriam over-gently. "I can carry it," he answered, rather injured. But he yielded it to her. Then Mrs. Leivers appeared. "I'm sure you're tired and cold," she said. "Let me take your coat. It IS heavy. You mustn't walk far in it."
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