"And you'll feel stove in furder when the Crier's done wud you."
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But though Reuben bore the brunt of the new enterprise, he had no intention of sparing others their part. All that he by any exertions could do himself he did, but the things which inevitably he could not compass, because he had only two hands, one back, one head, and seven days a week to work in, must be done by others. He showed himself unexpectedly stiff, and Mrs. Backfield and Harry found themselves obeying him as if he were not the son of the one and only a year older than the other. As a matter of fact, custom gave Reuben authority, in spite of his years. He was the master, the eldest son inheriting his father's lordship with his father's farm. Mrs. Backfield and Harry would have been censured by public opinion if they had set themselves against him."W?an't yer have summat t'eat, m?aster?" asked Beatup, looking in.
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"She's got a hundred a year, and that 'ud m?ake our fortunes at Odiam."That autumn Naomi entered on a time of black depressionan utter gloom and weariness of body and mind. It was no mere dull staggering under blows, merciful in its blindness and lack of acute feelingit was a clear-eyed misery, in which every object was as distinct as it was dark, like one of those sudden clearings of a stormy landscape, when trees, hedges, meadows, loom under the frowning sky, outstanding and black in detail, more vivid than in sunshine."No Oh, no!"She sometimes asked herself if she loved him, and in cold blood there was only one answer to that questionNo. What she felt for him was not love, but obsessionif she had never loved she might have mistaken it, but with her memories of Harry she could not. And the awful part of it was that her heart was still Harry's, though everything else was Reuben's. Her desires, her thoughts, her will were all Reuben'sby a slow remorseless process he was making them his ownbut her heart,[Pg 67] the loving, suffering part of her, was still Harry's, and might always be his."My wife's deceived me!" shouted Reuben. "I made sure as she'd come in fur thousands of pounds when old Lardner died, and all she's got out of him is fifty pounds and his lousy furniture."
