Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/308

300 and is afraid, and wants to cry. Then slowly tears gathered full in her eyes, and she wept from pity and despair.

This excited him terribly. He got up from his chair, and the cushions fell on to the grass:

“What’s the matter, what’s the matter!—Oh, Lettie,—is it me?—don’t you want me now?—is that it?—tell me, tell me now, tell me,”—he grasped her wrists, and tried to pull her hands from her face. The tears were running down his cheeks. She felt him trembling, and the sound of his voice alarmed her from herself. She hastily smeared the tears from her eyes, got up, and put her arms round him. He hid his head on her shoulder and sobbed, while she bent over him, and so they cried out their cries, till they were ashamed, looking round to see if anyone were near. Then she hurried about, picking up the cushions, making him lie down, and arranging him comfortably, so that she might be busy. He was querulous, like a sick, indulged child. He would have her arm under his shoulders, and her face near his.

“Well,” he said, smiling faintly again after a time. “You are naughty to give us such rough times—is it for the pleasure of making up, bad little Schnucke—aren’t you?”

She kept close to him, and he did not see the wince and quiver of her lips.

“I wish I was strong again—couldn’t we go boating—or ride on horseback—and you’d have to behave then. Do you think I shall be strong in a month? Stronger than you?”

“I hope so,” she said.