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“
And
they
have
to
work
so
hard
!
”
was
her
only
comment
.
On
the
street
sometimes
she
would
see
men
working
—
Irishmen
with
picks
,
coal
-
heavers
with
great
loads
to
shovel
,
Americans
busy
about
some
work
which
was
a
mere
matter
of
strength
—
and
they
touched
her
fancy
.
Toil
,
now
that
she
was
free
of
it
,
seemed
even
a
more
desolate
thing
than
when
she
was
part
of
it
.
She
saw
it
through
a
mist
of
fancy
—
a
pale
,
sombre
half
-
light
,
which
was
the
essence
of
poetic
feeling
.
Her
old
father
,
in
his
flour
-
dusted
miller
’
s
suit
,
sometimes
returned
to
her
in
memory
,
revived
by
a
face
in
a
window
.
A
shoemaker
pegging
at
his
last
,
a
blastman
seen
through
a
narrow
window
in
some
basement
where
iron
was
being
melted
,
a
bench
-
worker
seen
high
aloft
in
some
window
,
his
coat
off
,
his
sleeves
rolled
up
;
these
took
her
back
in
fancy
to
the
details
of
the
mill
.
She
felt
,
though
she
seldom
expressed
them
,
sad
thoughts
upon
this
score
.
Her
sympathies
were
ever
with
that
under
-
world
of
toil
from
which
she
had
so
recently
sprung
,
and
which
she
best
understood
.
Though
Hurstwood
did
not
know
it
,
he
was
dealing
with
one
whose
feelings
were
as
tender
and
as
delicate
as
this
.
He
did
not
know
,
but
it
was
this
in
her
,
after
all
,
which
attracted
him
.
He
never
attempted
to
analyse
the
nature
of
his
affection
.
It
was
sufficient
that
there
was
tenderness
in
her
eye
,
weakness
in
her
manner
,
good
nature
and
hope
in
her
thoughts
.
He
drew
near
this
lily
,
which
had
sucked
its
waxen
beauty
and
perfume
from
below
a
depth
of
waters
which
he
had
never
penetrated
,
and
out
of
ooze
and
mould
which
he
could
not
understand
.
He
drew
near
because
it
was
waxen
and
fresh
.
It
lightened
his
feelings
for
him
.
It
made
the
morning
worth
while
.
In
a
material
way
,
she
was
considerably
improved
.
Her
awkwardness
had
all
but
passed
,
leaving
,
if
anything
,
a
quaint
residue
which
was
as
pleasing
as
perfect
grace
.
Her
little
shoes
now
fitted
her
smartly
and
had
high
heels
.
She
had
learned
much
about
laces
and
those
little
neckpieces
which
add
so
much
to
a
woman
’
s
appearance
.
Her
form
had
filled
out
until
it
was
admirably
plump
and
well
-
rounded
.
Hurstwood
wrote
her
one
morning
,
asking
her
to
meet
him
in
Jefferson
Park
,
Monroe
Street
.
He
did
not
consider
it
policy
to
call
any
more
,
even
when
Drouet
was
at
home
.
The
next
afternoon
he
was
in
the
pretty
little
park
by
one
,
and
had
found
a
rustic
bench
beneath
the
green
leaves
of
a
lilac
bush
which
bordered
one
of
the
paths
.
It
was
at
that
season
of
the
year
when
the
fulness
of
spring
had
not
yet
worn
quite
away
.
At
a
little
pond
near
by
some
cleanly
dressed
children
were
sailing
white
canvas
boats
.
In
the
shade
of
a
green
pagoda
a
bebuttoned
officer
of
the
law
was
resting
,
his
arms
folded
,
his
club
at
rest
in
his
belt
.
An
old
gardener
was
upon
the
lawn
,
with
a
pair
of
pruning
shears
,
looking
after
some
bushes
.
High
overhead
was
the
clean
blue
sky
of
the
new
summer
,
and
in
the
thickness
of
the
shiny
green
leaves
of
the
trees
hopped
and
twittered
the
busy
sparrows
.
Hurstwood
had
come
out
of
his
own
home
that
morning
feeling
much
of
the
same
old
annoyance
.
At
his
store
he
had
idled
,
there
being
no
need
to
write
.
He
had
come
away
to
this
place
with
the
lightness
of
heart
which
characterises
those
who
put
weariness
behind
.
Now
,
in
the
shade
of
this
cool
,
green
bush
,
he
looked
about
him
with
the
fancy
of
the
lover
.
He
heard
the
carts
go
lumbering
by
upon
the
neighbouring
streets
,
but
they
were
far
off
,
and
only
buzzed
upon
his
ear
.
The
hum
of
the
surrounding
city
was
faint
,
the
clang
of
an
occasional
bell
was
as
music
.
He
looked
and
dreamed
a
new
dream
of
pleasure
which
concerned
his
present
fixed
condition
not
at
all
.
He
got
back
in
fancy
to
the
old
Hurstwood
,
who
was
neither
married
nor
fixed
in
a
solid
position
for
life
.
He
remembered
the
light
spirit
in
which
he
once
looked
after
the
girls
—
how
he
had
danced
,
escorted
them
home
,
hung
over
their
gates
.
He
almost
wished
he
was
back
there
again
—
here
in
this
pleasant
scene
he
felt
as
if
he
were
wholly
free
.
