III
Towake，andhearthebirdsatearlypractise，andfeelthatwinterisover——isthereanypleasantermoment？
Thatfirstmorninginhernewhouse，Gypwokewiththesparrow，orwhateverthebirdwhichuttersthefirstcheepsandtwitters，sooneclipsedbysomuchthatismoreimportantinbird-song。ItseemedasifallthefeatheredcreaturesinLondonmustbeassembledinhergarden；andtheoldversecameintoherhead:”AlldearNature’schildrensweetLieatbrideandbridegroom’sfeet，Blessingtheirsense。
Notacreatureoftheair，Birdmelodiousorbirdfair，Beabsenthence！”
Sheturnedandlookedatherhusband。Helaywithhisheadsnoozleddownintothepillow，sothatshecouldonlyseehisthick，rumpledhair。Andashiverwentthroughher，exactlyasifastrangemanwerelyingthere。Didhereallybelongtoher，andshetohim——forgood？Andwasthistheirhouse——together？Itallseemedsomehowdifferent，moreseriousandtroubling，inthisstrangebed，ofthisstrangeroom，thatwastobesopermanent。