But he had no sooner gone a few paces beyond the door than Lisbeth
became uneasy at the thought that she had vexed him. Of course, the
secret of her objection to the best clothes was her suspicion that they
were put on for Hetty's sake; but deeper than all her peevishness lay
the need that her son should love her. She hurried after him, and laid
hold of his arm before he had got half-way down to the brook, and said,
"Nay, my lad, thee wutna go away angered wi' thy mother, an' her got
nought to do but to sit by hersen an' think on thee?"
"Nay, nay, Mother," said Adam, gravely, and standing still while he put
his arm on her shoulder, "I'm not angered. But I wish, for thy own sake,
thee'dst be more contented to let me do what I've made up my mind to do.
I'll never be no other than a good son to thee as long as we live. But a
man has other feelings besides what he owes to's father and mother, and
thee oughtna to want to rule over me body and soul. And thee must make
up thy mind as I'll not give way to thee where I've a right to do what I
like. So let us have no more words about it."
"Eh," said Lisbeth, not willing to show that she felt the real bearing
of Adam's words, "and' who likes to see thee i' thy best cloose better
nor thy mother? An' when thee'st got thy face washed as clean as
the smooth white pibble, an' thy hair combed so nice, and thy eyes
a-sparklin'--what else is there as thy old mother should like to look at
half so well? An' thee sha't put on thy Sunday cloose when thee lik'st
for me--I'll ne'er plague thee no moor about'n.
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