But all the more reason why we should help each other to struggle.  Perhaps just this year or two will be our hardest time.  If Amy and Annie and Tom were once all earning something, the worst would be over—­wouldn’t it?  And can’t we find strength to hold out a little longer, just to give the children a start in life, just to make your father’s last years a bit happier?  If we manage it, shan’t we feel glad in looking back?  Won’t it be something worth having lived for?’

He paused, but Clara had no word for him.

’There’s Amy.  She’s a hard girl to manage, partly because she has very bad health.  I always think of that—­or try to—­when she irritates me.  This afternoon I took her out with me, and spoke as kindly as I could; if she isn’t better for it, she surely can’t be worse, and in any case I don’t know what else to do.  Look, Clara, you and I are going to do what we can for these children; we’re not going to give up the work now we’ve begun it.  Mustn’t all of us who are poor stand together and help one another?  We have to fight against the rich world that’s always crushing us down, down—­ whether it means to or not.  Those people enjoy their lives.  Well, I shall find my enjoyment in defying them to make me despair?  But I can’t do without your help.  I didn’t feel very cheerful as I sat here a while ago, before you came down; I was almost afraid to go upstairs, lest the sight of what you were suffering should be too much for me.  Am I to ask a kindness of you and be refused, Clara?’

It was not the first time that she had experienced the constraining power of his words when he was moved with passionate earnestness.  Her desire to escape was due to a fear of yielding, of suffering her egotism to fail before a stronger will.

‘Let me go,’ she said, whilst he held her arm.  ’I feel too ill to talk longer.’

’Only one word—­only one promise—­now whilst we are the only ones awake in the house.  We are husband and wife, Clara, and we must be kind to each other.  We are not going to be like the poor creatures who let their misery degrade them.  We are both too proud for that—­what?  We can think and express our thoughts; we can speak to each other’s minds and hearts.  Don’t let us be beaten!’

’What’s the good of my promising?  I can’t keep it.  I suffer too much.’

’Promise, and keep the promise for a few weeks, a few days; then I’ll find strength to help you once more.  But now it’s your turn to help me.  To-morrow begins a new week; the rich world allows us to rest to-morrow, to be with each other.  Shall we make it a quiet, restful, hopeful day?  When they go out in the morning, you shall read to father and me—­read as you know how to, so much better than I can.  What?  Was that really a smile?’

‘Let me go, Sidney.  Oh, I’m tired, I’m tired!’

‘And the promise?’

‘I’ll do my best.  It won’t last long, but I’ll try.’

‘Thank you, dear.’