infants she hath given birth to, and her husband, Sir Jeoffry, in a
fury at the coming of each, raging that it is not an heir. Before the
first came he had begun to slight her, and when 'twas born a girl he
well-nigh broke her heart. He is a great, bold, handsome man, and she,
poor little lady, hopeless in her worship of him. And the next year
there was another girl, and each year since--and Sir Jeoffry spends his
time in riot and drinking and ill-living--and she fades away in her
wing of the house, scarce ever seen."

"Poor, uncared-for thing, 'twould be happier if God took her, and her
children, too," said Mistress Halsell.

"Three have been taken," replied her companion, in a low voice.
"Neither she nor they have strength. And ah! to see her in these
days--her pretty face grown thin and haggard, the blue of her eyes
drenched out with weeping. 'Tis told he once said to her, 'When a woman
grows thin and yellow, her husband will go in search of better looks,
and none has right to blame him.' 'Twas on a day when she had dressed
herself in her best to please him, but a few weeks after her third
infant came into the world. And so weak was she, poor lady, and so hurt
in spirit, that she gave a little sob and swooned."

The young Marquess read his book no more. He drew down his handsome
childish brow and stared straight before him through the window. He was
a boy with a fiery spirit, despite his general amiability of demeanour,
and, had he lived among tormentors and tyrants and been ill-treated,
would have had an ungovernable temper. The thing he had heard filled
him with a kind of rage against this big handsome man who treated his
lady cruelly and hated her infants. 'Twas all brutal and wicked and
unfair, as if one should heartlessly beat a little dog that loved one.