CHAPTER THREE

The Casting off of Morel, the Taking on of William

During the next week, Morel's temper was very bad.

Like all miners, he was a great lover of herbal medicines. He would keep many bunches of herbs to make tea. Yet his tea was not enough to stop him from falling ill. He grew very weak from a swelling of the brain.

Now Mrs Morel had to nurse him, and he was a very difficult patient. Even with all the hate she had for him, she was scared that he might die. There was still a part of her that could not imagine life without him.

The neighbors were very good to her. They would feed the children and sometimes look after the baby. But even with their help she still had a lot of work to do. She was very tired at the end of each day, but she always did all she had to do.

The weeks passed. Morel started to get better. He was still a strong man, so once he started to get better he was soon well again. His wife had taken very good care of him and he had enjoyed it a lot. Now even though he was better, he wanted her to continue. She knew he was out of danger, so she would not listen to his childish cries.

"You are a grown man," she would say, "stop acting like a little boy."

This hurt him, but he was forced to stop. There was peace in the house for some time. She was kinder to him and he acted as if she were his mother. Up to this time she still had looked upon him as her man. Yet now she came to lose all desire for him. Her living still depended on him, but that was all he was to her now.

Mrs Morel moved away from her husband and towards her children. Like so many men in middle age, Morel was forced to accept that from now on he was no longer the center of his wife's life. He was pushed to the edge of the family.

This change did not happen without both of them trying in some way to stop it. They would sit together at night while Mrs Morel did her sewing. Morel, smoking his pipe, would not be able to sit still in his chair. He felt very alone, while her thoughts were always of her eldest son William. His soul would reach out to her and find her gone. He soon could not stand this feeling, so, in his heart, he gave up the life he had known. She knew this and felt sad for it, but her life and thoughts now belonged to the children.

Out of this final attempt at love did come something. There was a new child on the way. Mrs Morel was sorry when she learned about the new baby. She worried that they would not have enough money to support the family.

The baby was a boy. They called him Arthur. He was a good-looking child with blond hair like the other boys. The baby loved his father from the start. Hearing the miner's footsteps on the road the baby would put his arms in the air and smile. If Morel was in a good mood, he would call to the child.

"What is it, my beauty? I will come and see you in a minute."

Mrs Morel was happy that this new child gave his love to the father. It made her heart feel less cold.

William was growing bigger and stronger. Paul, however, was still small and quiet. He followed his mother around like her shadow.

She was very proud of William. He went to the night school to learn bookkeeping and was the top of his class. Later he became a teacher at the same school. He now had a bad temper but his usual friendliness and his size protected him from any trouble.

Mrs Morel thought that William was a very fine young man. At the end of each week he gave all the money he had earned to his mother. She would give some of it back so he could enjoy himself. He never drank, so the little money he had went a long way. He played sports with the other young men of the town and went to all the dances.

William would always tell Paul about the beautiful girls he met at the dances. They were like cut flowers to William; they faded after only two weeks. Sometimes a girl would come to the door looking for him.

"Is Mr Morel in?" the young lady would ask.

"My husband is at home," Mrs Morel would answer.

"I mean the young Mr Morel," the girl would say very shyly.

"Which one, there are several," wpuld be the reply.

"The Mr Morel I met at the dance last week," the girl would say, now ready to hide in a hole.

"I don't like girls he meets at dances, and no, he isn't home," Mrs Morel would say, as she closed the door.

William would come home angry with his mother for having turned the girl away. He was a careless yet lively young man, who walked with long steps. He sometimes looked sad, but usually he went about town with his hat pushed to the back of his head looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

Now he came into the house looking angry. He threw his hat onto a chair and stared down at his mother.

"Did a lady come to see me yesterday, Mother?" he asked.

"There was a girl."

"And why didn't you tell me?"

"Simply because I forgot," she said.

He went away very angry with his mother.

When he was nineteen he found a new job in the city of Nottingham. His pay would be doubled. Both his mother and father were very proud of their son. Everyone thought William was going to move up in the world very quickly.

Mrs Morel now hoped that, with William's help, all the other children would become successful. Annie was now studying to be a teacher. Paul, who was also very smart, was having lessons in French and German. Arthur, a very good-looking young boy, was at school and there was the chance that he could go to the high school in Nottingham.

William remained a year at his new job in Nottingham. He was studying hard and becoming very serious. Something seemed to be worrying him. Still he went to the parties and dances, though he never drank. All of the children were very much against drinking. He came home late at night and stayed up even later studying. His mother worried about his health and told him to choose one or the other.

"Go out to parties and dance, if that is what you want to do. But don't think that you can work during the day, go out at night, and then come home and study. You can't, the human body won't stand it. Either study or go out to parties, don't try to do both," she told him.

Then he was offered a job in London. His pay would be more than any of the family could imagine. It seemed so much. His mother did not know whether to be happy or sad.

"They want me in London next Monday," he told her.

Mrs Morel felt everything go silent inside her.

"I told you I could do it. Just think ... me in London. And I can give you enough money each year so you will be rich!" he said in a very excited voice.

"Yes, my son," she answered sadly.

He never thought that she might be more hurt by his going away than happy for his success. As the day of his leaving drew near, her heart began to close and grow black with sadness. She loved him so much. More than that, so many of her hopes lay with him. She almost lived through him.

She liked to wash his shirts so he would look good. She was proud of his good looks. Now she would not be able to do that for him. Now he was going away. It felt to her that he was not only leaving the town but also leaving her heart. He seemed to be taking all of himself away.

A few days before he was to leave, he was only twenty; he burned his love letters. They had sat in a pile on top of the kitchen cupboard. He had read parts of some of them to his mother. Some she had read herself. But most of them were very childish.

Now he said, "Come on Paul, let's go through my letters, you can have the pictures from the paper."

Mrs Morel had done all of the day's work the day before, because she wanted to spend all of his last day free to enjoy his company. She was making him a rice cake, which he loved, to take with him. He didn't even see that she was very sad at his leaving.

He took the first letter from the pile. It was purple. He smelled the paper.

"A nice smell! Here smell it," he said.

He pushed the paper under Paul's nose.

"What do you call that smell, mother?" he asked.

"I don't want to smell their foolishness," she said.

"This girl's father," said William, "is as rich as can be. He owns land without end. She calls me 'Frenchy' because I can speak French."

"Ha," laughed his mother, "Isn't that a silly thing."

William felt uncomfortable, so he stopped reading this girl's letter, giving Paul the corner of the paper with a picture of a flower. He kept reading parts of his other letters, some of which made his mother laugh, some of which made her sad and worried for him.

"Well some of them seem smart," said Mrs Morel, "they know all they have to do is say nice things about you and you will follow them like a dog."

"I'll never be caught by one of them. I will keep jumping from one to another," he said, very proud of himself.

"I only hope that is true, my son," she said.

William threw the letters into the fire. Soon they were nothing more than a black heap of dead hopes. He turned his back on them all. He was off to London to begin a new life.

(end of section)