Page:The Bondman; A New Saga (IA bondmannewsaga00cain).djvu/50

 But little harm they did to each other in all this "scarum scorrum," for at nigh every stroke each warm debater, so full of liquor, went down by his own momentum, and before long all the men there present were measuring their lengths upon the floor. And being down they lay there, until the innocent cause of their dispute, Stephen Orry himself, whose weak intellect these men of sense had spent themselves to atone for, came back from the shore, and in his strong arms picked up his helpless counsellors, and carried them, one by one, to their homes in silence.

The effects of going to church on 'Liza Killey were what they often are on a woman of base nature. With a man to work for her she became more idle than before, and with nothing to fear from scandal she grew more reckless and sluttish. Having hidden her nakedness in the gown of marriage, she lost the last rag of womanly shame.

The effects on Stephen Orry were the deepening of his sloth, his gloom, and his helplessness. What purpose in life he ever had was paralysed. On his first coming to the island he had sailed to the mackerel-fishing in the boats of Kane Wade, who found the big, dumb Icelander a skilful fisherman. Now he neglected his work, lost self-reliance, and lay about for hours, neither thinking nor feeling, but with a look of sheer stupidity. And so the two sat together in their ditch, sinking day by day deeper and yet deeper into the mire of idleness, moroseness, and mutual loathing. Nevertheless, they had their cheerful hours together.

The "king" of Nary's toast soon came. A child was born—a bonny, sunny boy as ever yet drew breath; but 'Liza looked on it as a check to her freedom, a drain on her energy, something helpless and looking to her for succour. So the unnatural mother neglected it, and Stephen, who was reminded by its coming that Rachel had been about to give birth to a child, turned his heart from it and ignored it.

Thus three spirit-breaking years dragged on, and Stephen Orry grew woe-begone and stone-eyed. Of old he had been slothful and spiritless indeed, but not a base man. Now his whole nature was all but gone to the gutter. He had once been a truth-teller, but living with a woman who assumed that he must be a liar, he had ended by becoming one. He had no company save her company, for his slow wit had found it hard to learn the English tongue, and she alone could rightly follow him; he had no desires save the petty ones of daily food and