Part II Her Conflict In the early morning Mark softly roused Delia from her sleep, and Delia sat up wiping the sleep from her eyes.  There were a few wet leaves stuck in her hair, and Mark gently pulled them out.  It was the coldest morning yet, and the forest floor seemed to be untouched by the sun.  It was impossible to see whether the sun had never risen or whether it was hidden behind thick gray clouds.  Mark looked to the sky and sighed heavily. "What is it Mark?"  "I’m afraid we can’t carry on like this much longer."  "Why?  What do you mean?"  "We can’t keep wandering around--not with the winter coming on.  It already grows too cold, and your hands are like ice," he said squeezing both her smaller hands within his.  "Oh, it isn’t that bad."  "No, but it soon will be.  I must find some work somewhere."  "But this has been so lovely living like we’re the only two in the world!"  "Yes, I know, and if only we were, but then we still wouldn’t have warm shelter or food."  Delia looked down at the ground, which was damp with heavy dew.  "It was nice while it lasted I suppose then, but what will we do?"  "Well, I don’t have any skills other than manual strength, I’m afraid."  "No, I know that isn’t true Mark.  You are so very smart, and you can read and write and all such things.  Surely you can’t say you have nothing but strength!" Mark stooped over gathering up their goods and stuffing them into their pack.  "No, you’re right, but I’m afraid there isn’t much use for that except in the Church, which isn’t an option."  "No, I suppose not.  So, shall we go to a town, a city perhaps?"  "Do you think it is safe?  I am not so sure, Delia.  I mean, I don’t even know how to get along in the city.  Yes, you have spent your life as a merchant’s daughter, and I realize that.  But still, my sweet…the very idea creates a dark cloud over my vision.  Surely towns are not very good places."  Delia looked at him and considered that he had been told that towns were sites of dissipation and vice.  She would have argued with him a month ago, but compared to the good and simple life of the forest, it did seem faulty to Delia.  However, she still felt some work could be found in a city.  "Mark, I know there is plenty to be done in the towns: there always is."  "There is also great poverty and starvation in the city."  "Yes, and dirt and disease, but the countryside is not without these things either."  They began to slog along through the thick underbrush, and Mark put his arm in the small of Delia’s back to support her, and she realized that he was directing them towards the road that they had encountered the previous day. "At this time of the year though, should we even be able to find anything anywhere?"  His words frightened her, and Mark realized his mistake at once.  "Forget I said that, Delia.  I know that they always need a hand in the country.  I know I can find work as a farmer for some lord."  "You want to become a serf?"  Delia stopped her progress, shocked by Mark‘s statement: as a merchant’s daughter, she was from a somewhat more privileged social class.  She was not as much prejudiced against the class of people that farmed the land as she was frightened of their way of life--they lacked everything, even freedom. "Surely there can be found a lord who treats his laborers more fairly than to suffer them to be serfs."  "I don’t know Mark.  It seems to me better to preserve our freedom than anything, anything!"  "Delia, my sweet, don’t so upset yourself!  I would never put you in a position where you were not safe and free.  I will see to your safety.  I promised you that, if you remember?"  "Yes, you did."  "Then, trust me, and together we’ll head for some countryside manor.  Unless you fear it…I won’t have us do anything that you don’t wish us to do.  That goes for everything, Delia.  Please trust me."  Delia squeezed his hand and quickly answered, "oh, of course I do, Mark!  I never doubted you.  You will see that everything is all right." In truth, Delia had more faith in Mark‘s belief that he could secure them a position that would not threaten their freedom than she did in the success of such a plan.  She contented herself with trusting herself to him, however, and while not going blindly into any situation, she did go with a sense of fortification. *** They had traveled for too long, and the third manor they reached was their last hope for a good lord before the winter really began to set in.  Climbing a high promontory over looking the small estate, Mark took Delia’s hand.  "This looks like a bountiful place, doesn’t it?" she asked with some attempt at optimism.  "Let us appeal to the lord presently, shall we?"  "Yes, let’s do."  And so they set off done the hill into the valley. In the valley, which was still partly green, being warmer and balmier than the surrounding higher country.  There was no town accompanying this lordship, only a small church and the scattered hovels of the people who worked the land.  The little homes of the peasants were made of mud, stones, and wood with thatched roofs.  Whatever could be easily obtained was used in their construction.  Mark knew from his travels with Delia what to expect on the inside of these small homes: they would have nothing but a hard dirt packed floor and perhaps a table and a bed.  There wasn’t much to expect, but at this point the homes seemed to promise some warmth and provisions.  The church was not made of stone, just wood, and it lay in the middle of the path to the lord’s home.  Mark and Delia followed the dusty path winding through the houses and finally past the church, up the hill half way, before finally being admitted into the courtyard of the lord’s habitation, after having stated their business. The lord’s house was set back, nearly on the opposite side of the manor, half way up a rolling hill.  It was a very small castle--no more than a stone tower in one corner of a stone square court.  Inside the court were the apartments, but they were made of wood, less sturdy stuff, so that if there was an attack, the members of the household would have to retire to the tower. They were not directly admitted to the lord himself, but to his manservant who took care of all business.  It seemed that the lord did very little himself, even though this was such a small manor and one might have expected him to at least have some hand in its management.  Having been led into a small dark room in one of the first buildings that served as the court, they were greeted by a short and round man with a slightly dirty appearance; although, his dress was notably better than either Mark or Delia could boast, as their clothes had greatly suffered during their travels.    It was not a proper greeting, as he barely acknowledged them as he bent over his small table that served as a desk, where he squinted at some documents spread out and hanging over the edge of the table.  He beckoned to them with his hand, but didn’t look up from his work.  Finally, after Delia and Mark stood in front of the desk for at least five minutes, he looked up over the end of his nose. Seeing their youth and Delia’s beauty, he took more careful stock of them, and wondered for a moment whether they were incorrectly announced as people looking for work.  "Looking for work?" he asked still uncertain.  Mark thought he sounded rather uneducated, and the way he was fingering the documents and muttering only cemented this notion--he couldn‘t be more than the very lowest level clerk.  "Yes, sir.  My wife and I have been looking for a good piece of land to farm."  "Ah…" The man shuffled the papers on his desk, still looking over the end of his nose.  "You then would be farmers?"  "Yes," Mark answered after a pause, realizing that they didn’t look at all like the part they were playing, even though their clothes had become more ragged.   "Is there land then…to be worked?"  "Oh, yes, we have something, but then, it is winter, so there isn’t much to do, and you haven’t any food hidden somewhere I suppose."  Mark resented this man’s sarcasm, but managed to answer with tolerance, "no sir, that we don’t.  But, I can do all types of manual work."  "Humph."  The man stood up, and walked out of the room abruptly. Delia turned to Mark, surprised, and his look convinced her that he was just as confused.  "Why, should we follow him?"  "No, I don’t think he meant for us to do that."  "I do hope he comes back though.  I’m afraid we need a place to live, Mark.  This man’s odd behavior only worries me more.  And we don’t even know of their practices here."  "No, we don’t, but it being so small, I doubt that they would have serfs, my sweet.  I have hope concerning this place."  Delia was not as hopeful.  "I hope that it is deserved!" At once, the man burst back into the room, and this time a woman followed him.  She had a sweet smile, which she bestowed on the couple generously and nodded her head.  The man sat back down at his desk, and the woman stood a few feet away from all of them, hugging the wall.  Delia surveyed the strange lady, who was dressed in the same level of social standing as the man, only cleaner.  She had black hair, which was held back by a black netted snood, and her complexion was very white.  Delia thought her rather striking, but Mark didn’t seem to be noticing, as he kept his eyes steadily fastened on the man at the desk.  The fabric of her gown appeared to even have sheen to it, but the light was too dim to tell.  "Yes, well…go on!" the man shouted, seemingly at no one, but the lady took her cue and began to address both Mark and Delia. "Since there will be not be work enough for both of you and no food to be had through farming at this point, may I suggest that the Miss work here within the tower, as a maidservant to our lady?  It is not a difficult job, I assure you, for I am our lady’s head lady-servant, and I can attest to it."  Delia looked at Mark, not knowing what to think, and Mark quickly blinked a few times, seemingly shocked and confused.  "Well…?"  The woman wanted an answer, and yet none could be had.  "But…" Delia stuttered.  "Oh, you shall be paid, at least in food, and it should be enough for the two of you.  Mister, you may work with the animals and on repairs or anything else that needs doing…that isn’t my specialty, but I am assured there will be work enough for both of you, and shelter, and food, if this should be agreeable to you."  "We shall have a home then?"  "Yes, down with the others.  Normally our maids live here within the courtyard, but we would make an exception." Mark couldn’t think why they would be willing to make exceptions for strangers or why they had chosen Delia without any knowledge of her abilities.  "I have no practice…no training…" Delia continued to stutter.  "Oh, that should be nothing, if you try that will be enough.  As I said, it is not a hard job."  Mark was baffled, but he thought it would be equally foolish to turn the offer down.  "May we see the house?  And may I see some sort of contract?" Mark asked with thoughts of caution.  The woman answered by gesturing to the man, who looked up again.  "Follow me," he sighed. They followed the man down into the clumps of houses and into one that was empty.  It was just like all the others they had seen, and yet not at all worse.  There was even a small plot of land attached, which could be farmed--or gardened--in better weather, and Mark thought perhaps that if they did stay, it would come in handy.  Mark surveyed the entire valley quickly, and thought it well situated and healthy.  Delia watched his face and saw there satisfaction, and therefore began to feel some herself.  One point worried Mark: the fact that Delia would not be working at his side or within his sight bothered him, because it seemed that she would be beyond his protection then as well. "This is a good piece of land, yes, but my wife, I know little of her position."  "It is one of respect, if that is what you mean," the man snapped back.  Delia took Mark’s arm.  "Our lady has a few maid servants, nice girls, and I’m sure you would find them good company for your wife."  "Shouldn’t she meet the lady first, before she is employed?"  "Our lady trusts the judgment of Constance.  That isn’t your worry."  "True," Mark said, scratching at the beard which had grown during their wanderings.  "I think we only need to see the contract."  The man knit his brow, somewhat surprised at the seeming literacy of this young man, and Mark perceived that he had made a mistake.  "I don’t usually put people under contract.  Not much call for that."  Mark attempted to cover for his mistake: "is there a priest whom could make one for us and read it to me?  I can sign my name."  Delia looked at him, having to suppress a smile: she was inordinately proud of Mark‘s education and literacy.  "Yes," the man said slowly, "we have such a man." The priest of the small church was not what Mark would consider a holy man.  His writing skill was very poor: the contract he quickly wrote up barely made any sense, so Mark could tell that he was not in fact well educated.  There was also a woman hanging about, whose role seemed dubious.  Her presence seemed inappropriate, but Mark also suspected that she served the priest in more ways than as a servant.  They signed a contract to stay for at least a year, and they also promised that they would fulfill the tasks to which they were assigned.  Mark thought that the contract was as fair as they could hope to receive, so he signed it after glancing at Delia to make sure she was in agreement. II They sat in their new home, but as of yet it didn’t feel much like ‘home’ to either Mark or Delia.  They had been supplied very quickly with the necessary things to outfit their little home so as to make it livable.  They were given some food, which they sat rather seriously eating at the small wooden table, which creaked when Mark leaned his elbows on the edge.  Delia was watching him, as she had finished eating her meal, and she waited for him to finish, so as to clear his plate and wash their utensils.  Mark watched her with some level of amazement.  He was used to taking care of himself in such situations, and during their time together, they had shared their duties. "Let me help you," he said, joining her at the wooden bowl of water, which she was using to clean things.  He stood at her side, but behind her shoulder.  He leaned over, whispering the words in her ear.  "No, sit down.  I’m all right."  He kissed her on the cheek and put his hands around hers in the water.  "Mark…" she whispered, feeling teased.  "Hmmm?  What is it, Delia?"  "Mark, stop being silly."  He flicked water from the bowl onto her dress.  "What, you mean like that?"  "Oh!  Mark!  You’re acting like a child!" she laughed.  He flicked the water at her again, and she turned around, standing directly under his nose; he bent down swiftly to plant a kiss on her lips.  Delia blushed and shyly put her arms around his waist, as he did the same. "Now that we’re here, are you glad?  Are you glad to have a place to call home?"  "Yes, I admit it, I am very glad," Delia said, resting her head against his chest.  He stroked her hair and pulled her tighter against him.  After a moment, he kissed the crown of her head, and she looked up into his eyes.  "Mark, let me shave your beard."  He laughed; thinking that Delia was being vain.  "Now, why laugh at me so, Mark?" she said, pushing him away.  "Oh, come now, but it seems a bit silly."  "You were clean shaven before!"  "Yes, but that was because of my station.  All the peasants have beards."  "But you’re not a peasant Mark!" Mark knit his brow somewhat disturbed by Delia’s continued aversion to living among the peasants.  "For a year that’s what we’ll be, so why should you waste your time shaving my face?"  "I suppose you think that it makes you manly!" Delia retorted and sulked in the corner.  Mark stood and watched her with her back turned, and considered her position in this whole disagreement.  She had been taken from her home, made to live in the woods, and was now thrust into a new situation that held who knows what outcome.  She was still only fifteen and had little experience as an adult or a wife.  He thought perhaps that he owed it to her to see that she was somewhat indulged in these small things.  After all, he did love her. "Delia," he said, going over and taking her by the shoulders, "would it please you for me to be clean shaven?"  Delia thought among all their worries, her request did seem foolish.  "I’m sorry, please forget that I said it."  He watched her eyes carefully.  "No, Delia, don’t feel badly.  I hadn’t thought to do it, that’s all, and it struck me as funny.  I would very much appreciate your doing it for me however."  She pushed him away.  "Don’t humor me, I don’t want to be humored."  Mark was beginning to be annoyed with her mood.  "Honestly, Delia, I’m trying my best to set things right between us!"  Delia walked towards the bed and played with her old dress which had been discarded on the edge of the bed, having been given a newer smarter one once they had accepted the terms of their contract. "Delia!  Don’t ignore me…!"  Mark almost swore in his anger.  He stormed over to where Delia stood, pulling her around by her shoulders.  He hadn’t known what he was going to do, but now he knew he must kiss her.  He kissed her more passionately than he had ever kissed her before, pushing his tongue past her teeth and supporting her body as her knees went weak underneath her.  That night, it did not seem so difficult to do what before had seemed so frightening. *** The morning was chilly, and Mark lay close against Delia, who still slept peacefully.  It occurred to him that he hadn’t taken the time to make a good fire before they went to bed.  He almost laughed: he hadn’t done anything before they went to bed.  He briefly opened his eyes to look at his wife, who lay so sweetly against his chest, and hugged her gently to him, kissing her softly on the forehead.  Closing his eyes once again, Mark rued leaving this bliss.  He knew the air would be cold out from under these blankets and then there would not be Delia’s warm soft body pressed against his as well. His eyes blinked open at the soft sound of Delia’s yawn.  He kissed her sleepily again, and she smiled weakly, mewing like a newborn kitten.  "Do we have to get up yet, Mark?  I’m tired--I don’t care to get up yet."  "Well, the sun seems to have different plans, dearest."  "Ah, that means ‘yes’ doesn’t it.  To have to follow someone else’s schedule, this I’m not used to.  And…and we should be very happy to stay here like this, shouldn’t we?"  She blushed sweetly, and Mark nodded, kissing her again.  "Are you happy, my pet?"  "Yes, very, Mark." "Come, I’ll make a fire, this one has died."  "Oh!  You’ll catch your death!  Don’t get up like that."  Delia looked around the bed without moving, holding the covers up to her chest.  Mark could see her bare back and he quickly kissed the back of her neck.  "Oh, Mark, now you’ll keep me in bed all day, I know it, and then I won’t please the lady much, now will I?"  "No," Mark said in a grumble; he would have been more displeased if Delia hadn’t seemed just as tempted not to move.  Finally, she found his discarded tunic on the floor and grabbed it up.  "Here," she said planting a quick kiss on his lips.  "Thank you," Mark said, as he pulled it over his head.  It was the light tunic, which he had worn all during their travels, but today he would have to wear the new heavier work tunic and thick leggings. He stood up and stretched, reaching his hands for the ceiling, and nearly touching it.  "Just a minute and I’ll have it going, Delia."  "All right.  Mark, don’t be looking over here for a moment," Delia said, which made Mark turn his head slowly towards her direction.  Delia had found her own simple dress and was in the process of pulling it over her head.  Mark would have guiltily watched, but he realized quickly that he really wouldn’t let her get out of bed if he did, so he looked back to the fire that he was trying to coax into a steady flame.  "I’ll warm up some of these biscuits over the fire, and that should be a good breakfast.  Would that be all right?"  "Yes, of course."  Mark realized his stomach was churning around, it was so empty.  "I’m starved!"  "I want to make sure you have enough to eat.  I don’t know when I’ll be back to make you a midday meal."  "Oh, I can fend well enough on my own, Delia.  Don’t worry about that." The fire finally became a good blaze and Delia placed the biscuits in a pan over it, so as to warm them.  "I should have made something new, but they didn’t have any meal to give us.  I’m sorry.  What an awful wife I must seem to you.  I am totally unprepared."  Mark stood up and turned her around, kissing her softly on the lips.  "Delia, I never even knew what it was to have a wife.  You certainly have exceeded all expectations," he said with a smile.  Delia laughed, "yes, so it is, and I can be as awful as I may."  "Ah, but now I shall hear stories of what a wife should be, and then I might become very angry with you," he teased, laughing and kissing her playfully.  "Really…and then what will you do?" she asked coyly.  "Oh, but I’m afraid it is a very bad situation for me, because, you see, even when I realize you are an imperfect wife, you will still always be the perfect love of my life, and therefore I shall have nothing to do but suffer with it!"  "Oh, Mark…" Delia said growing serious, "Mark, do you love me very much?"  "Yes.  More than anything, Delia.  I would lay down my life for you."  A large smile spread across her face: "Oh, and I would for you too, Mark!" *** Delia nearly shook upon entering the courtyard, as she was frightened by the unexpected.  She applied to the tall guard who stood by.  She had never in her life been in a lord’s manor, excepting their experience yesterday, but then she had had Mark with her.  Now she was alone.  The guard simply pointed, and Delia hurried along to the largest building in the courtyard, which was two stories.  Standing in front of the massive wooden door, which was crudely carved, she wondered how she had ever come to be in such a situation.  She knocked with the heavy metal knocker, and the door creaked open, Constance standing behind it with a smile.  "Do come in!  It is very cold this morning.  Pray don’t stand out there."  Delia curtsied and hurried inside, as Constance shut the door behind her. The room was fairly lit up for being nearly without windows, and Delia perceived that they were in an antechamber, which was again crudely decorated.  It seemed to Delia, who was used to rather fine surroundings of her merchant father’s house, that these people had no access to luxury goods brought from the East or even the Continent, even though they apparently had wealth.  There was no sign of the lady, and Constance seemed to sense that Delia was looking around for her: "Oh, our lady hasn’t yet awakened."  Delia blushed, imagining that the lord then would be about as well.  "You need not be here so early, Delia, our lady is never awake so early."  Delia sighed; she would have liked to stay in bed this morning more than anything else.  "What is it that I am to do?"  "Well, until our lady awake, you may meet the other girls, there are a few of us, and we can all talk."  "Then the others are here?  Surely then I should also be here in the morning."  "Oh, but we all live here, none of us are married."  Delia thought that Constance looked at her oddly when she said this. Constance led her into a small side chamber where the girls, three in all, were eating some gruel for breakfast.  Delia immediately realized from the way the girls talked, looked, and acted that they were peasants by birth, elevated to the position of maidservants to the lady of their manor.  They were somewhat pretty in the simple way, but their youth was decidedly their greatest blessing.  None of them seemed to be equal to Constance, and Delia began to wonder where Constance had come from. "Oh!" one of the girl’s exclaimed upon seeing Delia enter the room with Constance.  "This then is the new Miss!"  "Yes, girls, this is Delia.  Delia, this is Mabel, Agnes, and Beatrice."  Delia curtsied upon being introduced, and the girls began to whisper and twitter.  "Nice to make your acquaintance," Delia said awkwardly during their chatter.  "Aye, and you!  We saw the lot of you yesterday a coming to see Constance bout this job, yes we did!  And we hoped that you would be accepting the offer," Beatrice, who was slightly pudgy, bubbled, before being shushed by Agnes, who seemed in total awe of something, although Delia couldn’t make out what.  Delia looked questioningly at Constance, who began to explain: "we have very few people from elsewhere that come through our small lordship."  Delia nodded, but still did not see how this warranted so much attention.  "Pray, Miss, where did you get that fine gown we saw yesterday?"  Delia was surprised to hear her rather simple dress, which had seen better days called fine.  "I, I brought it from home."  "Aye, that’s what I said.  I knew it!" Beatrice rejoiced.  "But, what…knew what?" Delia interrupted.  Now all the girls seemed to lose the power of speech, and looked down at the floor, like castigated children. Delia heard the tinkle of a bell, and the three girls ran out of the room.  "Our lady has called.  But don’t move yourself.  Sit down.  We may talk until the girls are finished dressing our lady."  Delia heard screams, and her eyes grew big, but Constance paid no heed.  For a moment Delia thought of Mark, and wondered if he was having as strange a day as she was.  "Oh, the girls, they are very much entranced with you!" Constance began, warmly smiling, "as I thought very much they would be.  They were so excited to hear that you would be joining us."  "I’m afraid I don’t understand why I should cause so much commotion."  "Oh, well, like I said, we are not accustomed to strangers, and your dress seemed so above your station for both you and your…husband.  I suppose it created something of a mystery for the girls.  They have not very much excitement.  And then, well, you are a very pretty thing, and they were all quite jealous I think."  "Jealous!  Oh, how awful, I didn’t mean to bring any such…" Constance pressed her hand cutting her off, "no, pray don’t worry yourself about it!  It is always that way at first, it has been that way which each of them.  And yet, they already love you.  I can tell that…your being so above them has seen to that." Delia shook her head amazed at these words.  "I don’t know why they would think me above them.  We are all here to do the same job."  "Oh, come now, Delia!  Surely you don’t think me as simple as all that!  I know, as well as anyone else with half a head that you and your, ah, your husband have been raised in some higher manner.  Why, your carriage and speech give it away as sure as anything."  Delia hadn’t realized that while she had picked up easily on the girls’ background, they had just as easily picked up on hers.  The girls hurried back into the room, and stood with their backs to the wall. Constance stood up and motioned for Delia to follow her.  Delia quickly followed on her heels into the lady’s bedchamber, where a middle-aged woman sat at the dressing table, fingering her badly done hair.  She turned her head sharply to see Constance and Delia’s entrance, and Delia sighed inwardly when she perceived the woman’s visage visibly soften.  "Constance!" she cried.  "So, you have brought me this dear new girl!  Aye and how pretty you are!  Please dear, come closer."  Delia obediently stepped forward and curtsied.  Delia wondered why none of the servant women were anywhere near in age to the lady; their youth had led her to anticipate a much younger lady.  The lady put out her hand, and Delia took it and kissed it.  She was as much surprised by the age of the lady as by her poor speech and rather undignified appearance. "I’m always glad to have such well mannered girls around me.  That’s the type of company I deserve and was once accustomed to!" she added disagreeably.  Constance curtsied without any seeming purpose and, aiming to please, Delia did the same.  "What a sweet little poppet you are!  Pray, do you play any instruments?"  "I sing…" Delia said slowly, wishing very much not to be asked.  "Aye, I suppose it was too much to hope for.  But then, I have seen to it that Constance has been taught to play the lap harp, and you can accompany her.  That will be very sweet indeed!" she said clapping her hands. Constance walked over to the corner of the room, slowly, and with practiced elegance; she fetched the small harp, and brought it back to where Delia was standing.  "Sit!  Sit!" the lady exclaimed and Delia obediently pulled up a chair as Constance did the same.  "What song shall we perform, my lady?" Constance asked, pulling on the pegs of the harp.  "Aye!  But we know not what Delia sings, now do we!  What do you sing?"  "Oh, I only know very simple songs…" Delia offered up a few songs, and having agreed on one which both Constance and herself knew and one which the lady wished to hear, she began to sing in her soft sweet voice. *** "And how was your day?"  "Oh, Mark, nothing at all like I imagined!  They are very odd folk up there."  "Tell me all about it," he whispered, cradling her head against his chest and kissing her hair.  "Well, firstly, the girls, the other servants that is…they carried on about me so that I don’t know what they think of me."  "What!  Were they rude to you?"  "Oh, no, not in the least.  In fact, they treated me as if I was royalty, and won’t give up calling me ‘Miss‘."  "Well, that does seem somewhat strange."  "But that isn’t even the strangest part of the whole thing, because the lady, why she didn’t speak any better than these peasant girls, Mark.  She was almost vulgar, and very old."  "Really?"  "Yes, I had thought for some reason that she wouldn’t be quite so very old.  But then, she also seemed very cross and nasty with the girls, and so sweet with Constance and I.  It is almost, I barely dare say it, but it is almost like she considers us her equals, and that is why she treats us so."  "Well, whatever her reasons, I just want for you to be treated well," he said, kissing her again. "But Mark, you haven't told me how your day went?"  Mark didn’t know what to tell Delia.  It wasn’t that the work was that much more difficult than what he was accustomed.  While he hadn’t imagined it possible, these men were greater and harsher task masters than even the strictest fathers had been.  These men were crude and unkind.  That was what had made his work so very unpleasant, and yet, if Delia could be happy, he knew would be more than happy to see her so and be with her.  He had brought her here and insisted that everything would be fine, and he wasn’t going to complain about it now.  So, Mark didn’t tell his wife how he had felt very much out of place: "Ah, it wasn’t too hard, and then I have you to come back to, so it is all worthwhile."  And even while he said that the work was not too hard, he felt sleep weighing his eyelids down: it was too comfortable in the warm room with Delia lying next to him. "Are you tired, Mark?" Delia sounded concerned, and Mark realized that she must have been saying something to which he had not attended.  "Oh, yes, I am a bit.  Forgive me, what is it you were saying?"  "Only that I love you."  "Ah, well that is the best thing in the world for me to hear," he said, kissing her cheek.  "Mark, go ahead and go to sleep.  I'll be asleep myself shortly."  "Are you sure?" he asked, hugging him to her.  They usually talked for a while before going to sleep.  "Yes, I’m worn out from all the newness and excitement.  Now, I’ll finally understand why Sunday is so welcomed by so many!"