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He was unsettled and restless. Soon he could
not live in that atmosphere, and he affected his wife. Both felt an
oppression on their breathing when they were left together for some
time. Then he went to bed and she settled down to enjoy herself alone,
working, thinking, living.
Meanwhile another infant was coming, fruit of this little peace and
tenderness between the separating parents. Paul was seventeen months old
when the new baby was born. He was then a plump, pale child, quiet, with
heavy blue eyes, and still the peculiar slight knitting of the brows.
The last child was also a boy, fair and bonny. Mrs. Morel was sorry when
she knew she was with child, both for economic reasons and because she
did not love her husband; but not for the sake of the infant.
They called the baby Arthur. He was very pretty, with a mop of gold
curls, and he loved his father from the first. Mrs. Morel was glad this
child loved the father. Hearing the miner's footsteps, the baby would
put up his arms and crow.


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