He had just heard the workhouse clock strike two, when, without
the warning of a footstep, the door opened. Amy came in; she wore
her dressing-gown, and her hair was arranged for the night.
'Why do you stay here?' she asked.
It was not the same voice as before. He saw that her eyes were
red and swollen.
'Have you been crying, Amy?'
'Never mind. Do you know what time it is?'
He went towards her.
'Why have you been crying?'
'There are many things to cry for.'
'Amy, have you any love for me still, or has poverty robbed me of
it all?'
'I have never said that I didn't love you. Why do you accuse me
of such things?'
He took her in his arms and held her passionately and kissed her
face again and again. Amy's tears broke forth anew.
'Why should we come to such utter ruin?' she sobbed. 'Oh, try,
try if you can't save us even yet! You know without my saying it
that I do love you; it's dreadful to me to think all our happy
life should be at an end, when we thought of such a future
together. Is it impossible? Can't you work as you used to and
succeed as we felt confident you would? Don't despair yet, Edwin;
do, do try, whilst there is still time!'
'Darling, darling--if only I COULD!'
'I have thought of something, dearest.
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