And then, suddenly, as his iron-bound boots clattered over the cobbled
yard, he remembered, with brutal determination, his mother, and the
stormy struggle that awaited him.
He waited till supper was over, till his mother had moved from the table
to her place by the chimney corner. For several minutes he remained
debating with himself the best method of breaking the news to her. Of a
sudden he glanced up at her: her knitting had slipped on to her lap: she
was sitting, bunched of a heap in her chair, nodding with sleep. By the
flickering light of the wood fire, she looked worn and broken: he felt a
twinge of clumsy compunction. And then he remembered the piteous, hunted
look in the girl's eyes, and the old man's words when they had parted at
the paddock gate, and he blurted out:
'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.'
She started, and blinking her eyes, said:
'I was jest takin' a wink o' sleep. What was 't ye were saying, Tony?'
He hesitated a moment, puckering his forehead into coarse rugged lines,
and fidgeting noisily with his tea-cup. Presently he repeated:
'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.
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