tableturned
her
brilliant
face
to
Catherine
.
There
was
frank
mutiny
in
it
.
'
By
the
way
,
Catherine
,
are
you
going
to
prevent
mamma
from
letting
me
go
to
Berlin
for
the
winter
?
'
'
And
after
Berlin
,
Rose
?
'
said
Catherine
,
presently
,
her
gaze
bent
upon
her
work
.
'
After
Berlin
?
What
next
?
'
said
Rose
recklessly
.
'
Well
,
after
Berlin
I
shall
try
to
persuade
mamma
and
Agnes
,
I
suppose
,
to
come
and
back
me
up
in
London
.
We
could
still
be
some
months
of
the
year
at
Burwood
.
'
Now
she
had
said
it
out
.
But
there
was
something
else
surely
goading
the
girl
than
mere
intolerance
of
the
family
tradition
.
The
hesitancy
,
the
moral
doubt
of
her
conversation
with
Langham
,
seemed
to
have
vanished
wholly
in
a
kind
of
acrid
self-assertion
.
Catherine
felt
a
shock
sweep
through
her
.
It
was
as
though
all
the
pieties
of
life
,
all
the
sacred
assumptions
and
self-surrenders
at
the
root
of
it
,
were
shaken
,
outraged
by
the
girl
's
tone
.
'
Do
you
ever
remember
,
'
she
said
,
looking
up
,
while
her
voice
trembled
,
'
what
papa
wished
when
he
was
dying
?
'
It
was
her
last
argument
.
To
Rose
she
had
very
seldom
used
it
in
so
many
words
.
Probably
,
it
seemed
to
her
too
strong
,
too
sacred
,
to
be
often
handled
.
But
Rose
sprang
up
,
and
pacing
the
little
workroom
with
her
white
wrists
locked
behind
her
,
she
met
that
argument
with
all
the
concentrated
passion
which
her
youth
had
for
years
been
storing
up
against
it
.
Catherine
sat
presently
overwhelmed
,
bewildered
.
This
language
of
a
proud
and
tameless
individuality
,
this
modern
gospel
of
the
divine
right
of
self-development
—
her
soul
loathed
it
!
And
yet
,
since
that
night
in
Marrisdale
,
there
had
been
a
new
yearning
in
her
to
understand
.
Suddenly
,
however
,
Rose
stopped
,
lost
her
thread
.
Two
figures
were
crossing
the
lawn
,
and
their
shadows
were
thrown
far
beyond
them
by
the
fast
disappearing
sun
.
She
threw
herself
down
on
her
chair
again
with
an
abrupt
—
'
Do
you
see
they
have
come
back
?
We
must
go
and
dress
.
'
And
as
she
spoke
she
was
conscious
of
a
new
sensation
altogether
—
the
sensation
of
the
wild
creature
lassoed
on
the
prairie
,
of
the
bird
exchanging
in
an
instant
its
glorious
freedom
of
flight
for
the
pitiless
meshes
of
the
net
.
It
was
stifling
—
her
whole
nature
seemed
to
fight
with
it
.
Catherine
rose
and
began
to
put
away
the
books
they
had
been
covering
.
She
had
said
almost
nothing
in
answer
to
Rose
's
tirade
.
When
she
was
ready
she
came
and
stood
beside
her
sister
a
moment
,
her
lips
trembling
.
At
last
she
stooped
and
kissed
the
girl
—
the
kiss
of
deep
suppressed
feeling
—
and
went
away
.
Rose
made
no
response
.
Unmusical
as
she
was
,
Catherine
pined
for
her
sister
's
music
that
evening
.
Robert
was
busy
in
his
study
,
and
the
hours
seemed
interminable
.
After
a
little
difficult
talk
Langham
subsided
into
a
book
and
a
corner
.
But
the
only
words
of
which
he
was
conscious
for
long
were
the
words
of
an
inner
dialogue
.
'
I
promised
to
play
for
her
.
—
Go
and
offer
then
!
—
Madness
!
let
me
keep
away
from
her
.
If
she
asks
me
,
of
course
I
will
go
.
She
is
much
too
proud
,
and
already
she
thinks
me
guilty
of
a
rudeness
.
'
Then
,
with
a
shrug
,
he
would
fall
to
his
book
again
,
abominably
conscious
,
however
,
all
the
while
of
the
white
figure
between
the
lamp
and
the
open
window
,
and
of
the
delicate
head
and
cheek
lit
up
against
the
trees
and
the
soft
August
dark
.
When
the
time
came
to
go
to
bed
he
got
their
candles
for
the
two
ladies
.
Rose
just
touched
his
hand
with
cool
fingers
.
'
Good-night
,
Mr.
Langham
.
You
are
going
in
to
smoke
with
Robert
,
I
suppose
?
'
Her
bright
eyes
seemed
to
look
him
through
.
Their
mocking
hostility
seemed
to
say
to
him
as
plainly
as
possible
:
'
Your
purgatory
is
over
—
go
,
smoke
and
be
happy
!
'
'
I
will
go
and
help
him
wind
up
his
sermon
,
'
he
said
,
with
an
attempt
at
a
laugh
,
and
moved
away
.
Rose
went
upstairs
,
and
it
seemed
to
her
that
a
Greek
brow
,
and
a
pair
of
wavering
melancholy
eyes
,
went
before
her
in
the
darkness
chased
along
the
passages
by
the
light
she
held
.
She
gained
her
room
,
and
stood
by
the
window
,
seized
again
by
that
stifling
sense
of
catastrophe
,
so
strange
,
so
undefined
.
Then
she
shook
it
off
with
an
angry
laugh
,
and
went
to
work
to
see
how
far
her
stock
of
light
dresses
had
suffered
by
her
London
dissipations
.
CHAPTER
XVI
The
next
morning
after
breakfast
the
rectory
party
were
in
the
garden
—
the
gentlemen
smoking
,
Catherine
and
her
sister
strolling
arm-in-arm
among
the
flowers
.
Catherine
's
vague
terrors
of
the
morning
before
had
all
taken
to
themselves
wings
.
It
seemed
to
her
that
Rose
and
Mr.
Langham
had
hardly
spoken
to
each
other
since
she
had
seen
them
walking
about
together
.
Robert
had
already
made
merry
over
his
own
alarms
,
and
hers
,
and
she
admitted
he
was
in
the
right
.
As
to
her
talk
with
Rose
her
deep
meditative
nature
was
slowly
working
upon
and
digesting
it
.
Meanwhile
,
she
was
all
tenderness
to
her
sister
,
and
there
was
even
a
reaction
of
pity
in
her
heart
towards
the
lonely
sceptic
who
had
once
been
so
good
to
Robert
.
Robert
was
just
bethinking
himself
that
it
was
time
to
go
off
to
the
school
,
when
they
were
all
startled
by
an
unexpected
visitor
—
a
short
old
lady
,
in
a
rusty
black
dress
and
bonnet
,
who
entered
the
drive
and
stood
staring
at
the
rectory
party
,
a
tiny
hand
in
a
black
thread
glove
shading
the
sun
from
a
pair
of
wrinkled
eyes
.
'
Mrs
.
Darcy
!
'
exclaimed
Robert
to
his
wife
after
a
moment
's
perplexity
,
and
they
walked
quickly
to
meet
her
.
Rose
and
Langham
exchanged
a
few
commonplaces
till
the
others
joined
them
,
and
then
for
a
while
the
attention
of
everybody
in
the
group
was
held
by
the
squire
's
sister
.
She
was
very
small
,
as
thin
and
light
as
thistle-down
,
ill-dressed
,
and
as
communicative
as
a
babbling
child
.
The
face
and
all
the
features
were
extraordinarily
minute
,
and
moreover
,
blanched
and
etherealised
by
age
.
She
had
the
elfish
look
of
a
little
withered
fairy
godmother
.
And
yet
through
it
all
it
was
clear
that
she
was
a
great
lady
.
There
were
certain
poses
and
gestures
about
her
,
which
made
her
thread
gloves
and
rusty
skirts
seem
a
mere
whim
and
masquerade
,
adopted
,
perhaps
deliberately
,
from
a
high-bred
love
of
congruity
,
to
suit
the
country
lanes
.
She
had
come
to
ask
them
all
to
dinner
at
the
Hall
on
the
following
evening
,
and
she
either
brought
or
devised
on
the
spot
the
politest
messages
from
the
squire
to
the
new
rector
,
which
pleased
the
sensitive
Robert
and
silenced
for
the
moment
his
various
misgivings
as
to
Mr.
Wendover
's
advent
.
Then
she
stayed
chattering
,
studying
Rose
every
now
and
then
out
of
her
strange
little
eyes
,
restless
and
glancing
as
a
bird
's
,
which
took
stock
also
of
the
garden
,
of
the
flower-beds
,
of
Elsmere
's
lanky
frame
,
and
of
Elsmere
's
handsome
friend
in
the
background
.
She
was
most
odd
when
she
was
grateful
,
and
she
was
grateful
for
the
most
unexpected
things
.
She
thanked
Elsmere
effusively
for
coming
to
live
there
,
'
sacrificing
yourself
so
nobly
to
us
country
folk
,
'
and
she
thanked
him
with
an
appreciative
glance
at
Langham
,
for
having
his
clever
friends
to
stay
with
him
.
'
The
squire
will
be
so
pleased
.
My
brother
,
you
know
,
is
very
clever
;
oh
yes
,
frightfully
clever
!
'
And
then
there
was
a
long
sigh
,
at
which
Elsmere
could
hardly
keep
his
countenance
.
She
thought
it
particularly
considerate
of
them
to
have
been
to
see
the
squire
's
books
.
It
would
make
conversation
so
easy
when
they
came
to
dinner
.
'
Though
I
do
n't
know
anything
about
his
books
.
He
does
n't
like
women
to
talk
about
books
.
He
says
they
only
pretend
—
even
the
clever
ones
.
Except
,
of
course
,
Madame
de
Staël
.
He
can
only
say
she
was
ugly
,
and
I
do
n't
deny
it
.
But
I
have
about
used
up
Madame
de
Staël
,
'
she
added
,
dropping
into
another
sigh
as
soft
and
light
as
a
child
's
.
Robert
was
charmed
with
her
,
and
even
Langham
smiled
.
And
as
Mrs.
Darcy
adored
'
clever
men
,
'
ranking
them
,
as
the
London
of
her
youth
had
ranked
them
,
only
second
to
'
persons
of
birth
,
'
she
stood
among
them
beaming
,
becoming
more
and
more
whimsical
and
inconsequent
,
more
and
more
deliciously
incalculable
,
as
she
expanded
.
At
last
she
fluttered
off
,
only
,
however
,
to
come
hurrying
back
,
with
little
,
short
,
scudding
steps
,
to
implore
them
all
to
come
to
tea
with
her
as
soon
as
possible
in
the
garden
that
was
her
special
hobby
,
and
in
her
last
new
summer-house
.
'
I
build
two
or
three
every
summer
,
'
she
said
.
'
Now
,
there
are
twenty-one
!
Roger
laughs
at
me
,
'
and
there
was
a
momentary
bitterness
in
the
little
eerie
face
,
'
but
how
can
one
live
without
hobbies
?
That
's
one
—
then
I
've
two
more
.
My
album
—
oh
,
you
will
all
write
in
my
album
,
wo
n't
you
?
When
I
was
young
—
when
I
was
Maid
of
Honour
'
—
and
she
drew
herself
up
slightly
—
'
everybody
had
albums
.
Even
the
dear
Queen
herself
!
I
remember
how
she
made
M
.
Guizot
write
in
it
;
something
quite
stupid
,
after
all
.
Those
hobbies
—
the
garden
and
the
album
—
are
quite
harmless
,
are
n't
they
?
They
hurt
nobody
,
do
they
?
'
Her
voice
dropped
a
little
,
with
a
pathetic
expostulating
intonation
in
it
,
as
of
one
accustomed
to
be
rebuked
.
'
Let
me
remind
you
of
a
saying
of
Bacon
's
,
'
said
Langham
,
studying
her
,
and
softened
perforce
into
benevolence
.
'
Yes
,
yes
,
'
said
Mrs.
Darcy
in
a
flutter
of
curiosity
.
'
God
Almighty
first
planted
a
garden
,
'
he
quoted
;
'
and
indeed
,
it
is
the
purest
of
all
human
pleasures
.
'
'
Oh
,
but
how
delightful
!
'
cried
Mrs.
Darcy
,
clasping
her
diminutive
hands
in
their
thread
gloves
.
'
You
must
write
that
in
my
album
,
Mr.
Langham
,
that
very
sentence
;
oh
,
how
clever
of
you
to
remember
it
!
What
it
is
to
be
clever
and
have
a
brain
!
But
,
then
—
I
've
another
hobby
—
—
'
Here
,
however
,
she
stopped
,
hung
her
head
and
looked
depressed
.
Robert
,
with
a
little
ripple
of
laughter
,
begged
her
to
explain
.
'
No
,
'
she
said
plaintively
,
giving
a
quick
uneasy
look
at
him
,
as
though
it
occurred
to
her
that
it
might
some
day
be
his
pastoral
duty
to
admonish
her
.
'
No
,
it
's
wrong
.
I
know
it
is
—
only
I
ca
n't
help
it
.
Never
mind
.
You
'll
know
soon
.
'
And
again
she
turned
away
,
when
,
suddenly
,
Rose
attracted
her
attention
,
and
she
stretched
out
a
thin
white
bird-claw
of
a
hand
and
caught
the
girl
's
arm
.
'
There
wo
n't
be
much
to
amuse
you
to-morrow
,
my
dear
,
and
there
ought
to
be
—
you
're
so
pretty
!
'
Rose
blushed
furiously
and
tried
to
draw
her
hand
away
.
'
No
,
no
!
do
n't
mind
,
do
n't
mind
.
I
did
n't
at
your
age
.
Well
,
we
'll
do
our
best
.
But
your
own
party
is
so
charming
!
'
and
she
looked
round
the
little
circle
,
her
gaze
stopping
specially
at
Langham
before
it
returned
to
Rose
.
'
After
all
,
you
will
amuse
each
other
.
'
Was
there
any
malice
in
the
tiny
withered
creature
?
Rose
,
unsympathetic
and
indifferent
as
youth
commonly
is
when
its
own
affairs
absorb
it
,
had
stood
coldly
outside
the
group
which
was
making
much
of
the
squire
's
sister
.
Was
it
so
the
strange
little
visitor
revenged
herself
?
At
any
rate
Rose
was
left
feeling
as
if
some
one
had
pricked
her
.
While
Catherine
and
Elsmere
escorted
Mrs.
Darcy
to
the
gate
she
turned
to
go
in
,
her
head
thrown
back
stag-like
,
her
cheek
still
burning
.
Why
should
it
be
always
open
to
the
old
to
annoy
the
young
with
impunity
?
Langham
watched
her
mount
the
first
step
or
two
;
his
eye
travelled
up
the
slim
figure
so
instinct
with
pride
and
will
—
and
something
in
him
suddenly
gave
way
.
It
was
like
a
man
who
feels
his
grip
relaxing
on
some
attacking
thing
he
has
been
holding
by
the
throat
.
He
followed
her
hastily
.
'
Must
you
go
in
?
And
none
of
us
have
paid
our
respects
yet
to
those
phloxes
in
the
back
garden
?
'
Oh
woman
—
flighty
woman
!
An
instant
before
,
the
girl
,
sore
and
bruised
in
every
fibre
,
she
only
half
knew
why
,
was
thirsting
that
this
man
might
somehow
offer
her
his
neck
that
she
might
trample
on
it
.
He
offers
it
,
and
the
angry
instinct
wavers
,
as
a
man
wavers
in
a
wrestling
match
when
his
opponent
unexpectedly
gives
ground
.
She
paused
,
she
turned
her
white
throat
.
His
eyes
upturned
met
hers
.
'
The
phloxes
did
you
say
?
'
she
asked
,
coolly
redescending
the
steps
.
'
Then
round
here
,
please
.
'
She
led
the
way
,
he
followed
,
conscious
of
an
utter
relaxation
of
nerve
and
will
which
for
the
moment
had
something
intoxicating
in
it
.
'
There
are
your
phloxes
,
'
she
said
,
stopping
before
a
splendid
line
of
plants
in
full
blossom
.
Her
self-respect
was
whole
again
;
her
spirits
rose
at
a
bound
.
'
I
do
n't
know
why
you
admire
them
so
much
.
They
have
no
scent
,
and
they
are
only
pretty
in
the
lump
,
'
and
she
broke
off
a
spike
of
blossom
,
studied
it
a
little
disdainfully
,
and
threw
it
away
.
He
stood
beside
her
,
the
southern
glow
and
life
of
which
it
was
intermittently
capable
once
more
lighting
up
the
strange
face
.
'
Give
me
leave
to
enjoy
everything
countrified
more
than
usual
,
'
he
said
.
'
After
this
morning
it
will
be
so
long
before
I
see
the
true
country
again
.
'
He
looked
,
smiling
,
round
on
the
blue
and
white
brilliance
of
the
sky
,
clear
again
after
a
night
of
rain
;
on
the
sloping
garden
,
on
the
village
beyond
,
on
the
hedge
of
sweet
peas
close
beside
them
,
with
its
blooms
'
On
tiptoe
for
a
flight
,
With
wings
of
gentle
flush
o'er
delicate
white
.
'
'
Oh
!
Oxford
is
countrified
enough
,
'
she
said
indifferently
,
moving
down
the
broad
grass-path
which
divided
the
garden
into
two
equal
portions
.
'
But
I
am
leaving
Oxford
,
at
any
rate
for
a
year
,
'
he
said
quietly
.
'
I
am
going
to
London
.
'
Her
delicate
eyebrows
went
up
.
'
To
London
?
'
Then
,
in
a
tone
of
mock
meekness
and
sympathy
,
'
How
you
will
dislike
it
!
'
'
Dislike
it
—
why
?
'
'
Oh
!
because
—
'
she
hesitated
,
and
then
laughed
her
daring
girlish
laugh
—
'
because
there
are
so
many
stupid
people
in
London
;
the
clever
people
are
not
all
picked
out
like
prize
apples
,
as
I
suppose
they
are
in
Oxford
.
'
'
At
Oxford
?
'
repeated
Langham
,
with
a
kind
of
groan
.
'
At
Oxford
?
You
imagine
that
Oxford
is
inhabited
only
by
clever
people
?
'
'
I
can
only
judge
by
what
I
see
,
'
she
said
demurely
.
'
Every
Oxford
man
always
behaves
as
if
he
were
the
cream
of
the
universe
.
Oh
!
I
do
n't
mean
to
be
rude
,
'
she
cried
,
losing
for
a
moment
her
defiant
control
over
herself
,
as
though
afraid
of
having
gone
too
far
.
'
I
am
not
the
least
disrespectful
,
really
.
When
you
and
Robert
talk
,
Catherine
and
I
feel
quite
as
humble
as
we
ought
.
'
The
words
were
hardly
out
before
she
could
have
bitten
the
tongue
that
spoke
them
.
He
had
made
her
feel
her
indiscretions
of
Sunday
night
as
she
deserved
to
feel
them
,
and
now
after
three
minutes
conversation
she
was
on
the
verge
of
fresh
ones
.
Would
she
never
grow
up
,
never
behave
like
other
girls
?
That
word
humble
!
It
seemed
to
burn
her
memory
.
Before
he
could
possibly
answer
she
barred
the
way
by
a
question
as
short
and
dry
as
possible
—
'
What
are
you
going
to
London
for
?
'
'
For
many
reasons
,
'
he
said
,
shrugging
his
shoulders
.
'
I
have
told
no
one
yet
—
not
even
Elsmere
.
And
indeed
I
go
back
to
my
rooms
for
a
while
from
here
.
But
as
soon
as
Term
begins
I
become
a
Londoner
.
'
They
had
reached
the
gate
at
the
bottom
of
the
garden
,
and
were
leaning
against
it
.
She
was
disturbed
,
conscious
,
lightly
flushed
.
It
struck
her
as
another
gaucherie
on
her
part
that
she
should
have
questioned
him
as
to
his
plans
.
What
did
his
life
matter
to
her
?
He
was
looking
away
from
her
,
studying
the
half-ruined
,
degraded
manor
house
spread
out
below
them
.
Then
suddenly
he
turned
—
'
If
I
could
imagine
for
a
moment
it
would
interest
you
to
hear
my
reasons
for
leaving
Oxford
,
I
could
not
flatter
myself
you
would
see
any
sense
in
them
.
I
know
that
Robert
will
think
them
moonshine
;
nay
,
more
,
that
they
will
give
him
pain
.
'
He
smiled
sadly
.
The
tone
of
gentleness
,
the
sudden
breach
in
the
man
's
melancholy
reserve
affected
the
girl
beside
him
for
the
second
time
,
precisely
as
they
had
affected
her
the
first
time
.
The
result
of
twenty-four
hours
'
resentful
meditation
turned
out
to
be
precisely
nil
.
Her
breath
came
fast
,
her
proud
look
melted
,
and
his
quick
sense
caught
the
change
in
an
instant
.
'
Are
you
tired
of
Oxford
?
'
the
poor
child
asked
him
,
almost
shyly
.
'
Mortally
!
'
he
said
,
still
smiling
.
'
And
what
is
more
important
still
,
Oxford
is
tired
of
me
.
I
have
been
lecturing
there
for
ten
years
.
They
have
had
more
than
enough
of
me
.
'
'
Oh
!
but
Robert
said
—
—
'
began
Rose
impetuously
,
then
stopped
,
crimson
,
remembering
many
things
Robert
had
said
.
'
That
I
helped
him
over
a
few
stiles
?
'
returned
Langham
calmly
.
'
Yes
,
there
was
a
time
when
I
was
capable
of
that
—
there
was
a
time
when
I
could
teach
,
and
teach
with
pleasure
.
'
He
paused
.
Rose
could
have
scourged
herself
for
the
tremor
she
felt
creeping
over
her
.
Why
should
it
be
to
her
so
new
and
strange
a
thing
that
a
man
,
especially
a
man
of
these
years
and
this
calibre
,
should
confide
in
her
,
should
speak
to
her
intimately
of
himself
?
After
all
,
she
said
to
herself
angrily
,
with
a
terrified
sense
of
importance
,
she
was
a
child
no
longer
,
though
her
mother
and
sisters
would
treat
her
as
one
.
'
When
we
were
chatting
the
other
night
,
'
he
went
on
,
turning
to
her
again
as
he
stood
leaning
on
the
gate
,
'
do
you
know
what
it
was
struck
me
most
?
'
His
tone
had
in
it
the
most
delicate
,
the
most
friendly
deference
.
But
Rose
flushed
furiously
.
'
That
girls
are
very
ready
to
talk
about
themselves
,
I
imagine
,
'
she
said
scornfully
.
'
Not
at
all
!
Not
for
a
moment
!
No
,
but
it
seemed
to
me
so
pathetic
,
so
strange
that
anybody
should
wish
for
anything
so
much
as
you
wished
for
the
musician
's
life
.
'
'
And
you
never
wish
for
anything
?
'
she
cried
.
'
When
Elsmere
was
at
college
,
'
he
said
,
smiling
,
'
I
believe
I
wished
he
should
get
a
first
class
.
This
year
I
have
certainly
wished
to
say
good-bye
to
St.
Anselm
's
,
and
to
turn
my
back
for
good
and
all
on
my
men
.
I
ca
n't
remember
that
I
have
wished
for
anything
else
for
six
years
.
'
She
looked
at
him
perplexed
.
Was
his
manner
merely
languid
,
or
was
it
from
him
that
the
emotion
she
felt
invading
herself
first
started
?
She
tried
to
shake
it
off
.
'
And
I
am
just
a
bundle
of
wants
,
'
she
said
,
half-mockingly
.
'
Generally
speaking
I
am
in
the
condition
of
being
ready
to
barter
all
I
have
for
some
folly
or
other
—
one
in
the
morning
,
another
in
the
afternoon
.
What
have
you
to
say
to
such
people
,
Mr.
Langham
?
'
Her
eyes
challenged
him
magnificently
,
mostly
out
of
sheer
nervousness
.
But
the
face
they
rested
on
seemed
suddenly
to
turn
to
stone
before
her
.
The
life
died
out
of
it
.
It
grew
still
and
rigid
.
'
Nothing
,
'
he
said
quietly
.
'
Between
them
and
me
there
is
a
great
gulf
fixed
.
I
watch
them
pass
,
and
I
say
to
myself
:
"
There
are
the
living
—
that
is
how
they
look
,
how
they
speak
!
Realise
once
for
all
that
you
have
nothing
to
do
with
them
.
Life
is
theirs
—
belongs
to
them
.
You
are
already
outside
it
.
Go
your
way
,
and
be
a
spectre
among
the
active
and
the
happy
no
longer
.
"
'
He
leant
his
back
against
the
gate
.
Did
he
see
her
?
Was
he
conscious
of
her
at
all
in
this
rare
impulse
of
speech
which
had
suddenly
overtaken
one
of
the
most
withdrawn
and
silent
of
human
beings
?
All
her
airs
dropped
off
her
;
a
kind
of
fright
seized
her
;
and
involuntarily
she
laid
her
hand
on
his
arm
.
'
Do
n't
—
do
n't
—
Mr.
Langham
!
Oh
,
do
n't
say
such
things
!
Why
should
you
be
so
unhappy
?
Why
should
you
talk
so
?
Can
no
one
do
anything
?
Why
do
you
live
so
much
alone
?
Is
there
no
one
you
care
about
?
'
He
turned
.
What
a
vision
!
His
artistic
sense
absorbed
it
in
an
instant
—
the
beautiful
tremulous
lip
,
the
drawn
white
brow
.
For
a
moment
he
drank
in
the
pity
,
the
emotion
,
of
those
eyes
.
Then
a
movement
of
such
self-scorn
as
even
he
had
never
felt
swept
through
him
.
He
gently
moved
away
;
her
hand
dropped
.
'
Miss
Leyburn
,
'
he
said
,
gazing
at
her
,
his
olive
face
singularly
pale
,
'
do
n't
waste
your
pity
on
me
,
for
Heaven
's
sake
.
Some
madness
made
me
behave
as
I
did
just
now
.
Years
ago
the
same
sort
of
idiocy
betrayed
me
to
your
brother
;
never
before
or
since
.
I
ask
your
pardon
,
humbly
,
'
and
his
tone
seemed
to
scorch
her
,
'
that
this
second
fit
of
ranting
should
have
seized
me
in
your
presence
.
'
But
he
could
not
keep
it
up
.
The
inner
upheaval
had
gone
too
far
.
He
stopped
and
looked
at
her
—
piteously
,
the
features
quivering
.
It
was
as
though
the
man
's
whole
nature
had
for
the
moment
broken
up
,
become
disorganised
.
She
could
not
bear
it
.
Some
ghastly
infirmity
seemed
to
have
been
laid
bare
to
her
.
She
held
out
both
her
hands
.
Swiftly
he
caught
them
,
stooped
,
kissed
them
,
let
them
go
.
It
was
an
extraordinary
scene
—
to
both
a
kind
of
lifetime
.
Then
he
gathered
himself
together
by
a
mighty
effort
.
'
That
was
adorable
of
you
,
'
he
said
with
a
long
breath
.
'
But
I
stole
it
—
I
despise
myself
.
Why
should
you
pity
me
?
What
is
there
to
pity
me
for
?
My
troubles
,
such
as
I
have
,
are
my
own
making
—
every
one
.
'
And
he
laid
a
sort
of
vindictive
emphasis
on
the
words
.
The
tears
of
excitement
were
in
her
eyes
.
'
Wo
n't
you
let
me
be
your
friend
?
'
she
said
,
trembling
,
with
a
kind
of
reproach
.
'
I
thought
—
the
other
night
—
we
were
to
be
friends
.
Wo
n't
you
tell
me
—
—
'
'
More
of
yourself
?
'
her
eyes
said
,
but
her
voice
failed
her
.
And
as
for
him
,
as
he
gazed
at
her
,
all
the
accidents
of
circumstance
,
of
individual
character
,
seemed
to
drop
from
her
.
He
forgot
the
difference
of
years
;
he
saw
her
no
longer
as
she
was
—
a
girl
hardly
out
of
the
schoolroom
,
vain
,
ambitious
,
dangerously
responsive
,
on
whose
crude
romantic
sense
he
was
wantonly
playing
;
she
was
to
him
pure
beauty
,
pure
woman
.
For
one
tumultuous
moment
the
cold
critical
instinct
which
had
been
for
years
draining
his
life
of
all
its
natural
energies
was
powerless
.
It
was
sweet
to
yield
,
to
speak
,
as
it
had
never
been
sweet
before
.
So
,
leaning
over
the
gate
,
he
told
her
the
story
of
his
life
,
of
his
cramped
childhood
and
youth
,
of
his
brief
moment
of
happiness
and
success
at
college
,
of
his
first
attempts
to
make
himself
a
power
among
younger
men
,
of
the
gradual
dismal
failure
of
all
his
efforts
,
the
dying
down
of
desire
and
ambition
.
From
the
general
narrative
there
stood
out
little
pictures
of
individual
persons
or
scenes
,
clear
cut
and
masterly
—
of
his
father
,
the
Gainsborough
churchwarden
;
of
his
Methodistical
mother
,
who
had
all
her
life
lamented
her
own
beauty
as
a
special
snare
of
Satan
,
and
who
since
her
husband
's
death
had
refused
to
see
her
son
on
the
ground
that
his
opinions
'
had
vexed
his
father
'
;
of
his
first
ardent
worship
of
knowledge
,
and
passion
to
communicate
it
;
and
of
the
first
intuitions
in
lecture
,
face
to
face
with
an
undergraduate
,
alone
in
college
rooms
,
sometimes
alone
on
Alpine
heights
,
of
something
cold
,
impotent
and
baffling
in
himself
,
which
was
to
stand
for
ever
between
him
and
action
,
between
him
and
human
affection
;
the
growth
of
the
critical
pessimist
sense
which
laid
the
axe
to
the
root
of
enthusiasm
after
enthusiasm
,
friendship
after
friendship
—
which
made
other
men
feel
him
inhuman
,
intangible
,
a
skeleton
at
the
feast
:
and
the
persistence
through
it
all
of
a
kind
of
hunger
for
life
and
its
satisfactions
,
which
the
will
was
more
and
more
powerless
to
satisfy
:
all
these
Langham
put
into
words
with
an
extraordinary
magic
and
delicacy
of
phrase
.
There
was
something
in
him
which
found
a
kind
of
pleasure
in
the
long
analysis
,
which
took
pains
that
it
should
be
infinitely
well
done
.
Rose
followed
him
breathlessly
.
If
she
had
known
more
of
literature
she
would
have
realised
that
she
was
witnessing
a
masterly
dissection
of
one
of
those
many
morbid
growths
of
which
our
nineteenth
century
psychology
is
full
.
But
she
was
anything
but
literary
,
and
she
could
not
analyse
her
excitement
.
The
man
's
physical
charm
,
his
melancholy
,
the
intensity
of
what
he
said
,
affected
,
unsteadied
her
as
music
was
apt
to
affect
her
.
And
through
it
all
there
was
the
strange
girlish
pride
that
this
should
have
befallen
her
;
a
first
crude
intoxicating
sense
of
the
power
over
human
lives
which
was
to
be
hers
,
mingled
with
a
desperate
anxiety
to
be
equal
to
the
occasion
,
to
play
her
part
well
.
'
So
you
see
,
'
said
Langham
at
last
,
with
a
great
effort
(
to
do
him
justice
)
to
climb
back
on
to
some
ordinary
level
of
conversation
;
'
all
these
transcendentalisms
apart
,
I
am
about
the
most
unfit
man
in
the
world
for
a
college
tutor
.
The
undergraduates
regard
me
as
a
shilly-shallying
pedant
.
On
my
part
,
'
he
added
drily
,
'
I
am
not
slow
to
retaliate
.
Every
term
I
live
I
find
the
young
man
a
less
interesting
animal
.
I
regard
the
whole
university
system
as
a
wretched
sham
.
Knowledge
!
It
has
no
more
to
do
with
knowledge
than
my
boots
.
'
And
for
one
curious
instant
he
looked
out
over
the
village
,
his
fastidious
scholar
's
soul
absorbed
by
some
intellectual
irritation
,
of
which
Rose
understood
absolutely
nothing
.
She
stood
bewildered
,
silent
,
longing
childishly
to
speak
,
to
influence
him
,
but
not
knowing
what
cue
to
take
.
'
And
then
—
'
he
went
on
presently
(
but
was
the
strange
being
speaking
to
her
?
)
—
'
so
long
as
I
stay
there
,
worrying
those
about
me
,
and
eating
my
own
heart
out
,
I
am
cut
off
from
the
only
life
that
might
be
mine
,
that
I
might
find
the
strength
to
live
.
'
The
words
were
low
and
deliberate
.
After
his
moment
of
passionate
speech
,
and
hers
of
passionate
sympathy
,
she
began
to
feel
strangely
remote
from
him
.
'
Do
you
mean
the
life
of
the
student
?
'
she
asked
him
after
a
pause
,
timidly
.
Her
voice
recalled
him
.
He
turned
and
smiled
at
her
.
'
Of
the
dreamer
,
rather
.
'
And
as
her
eyes
still
questioned
,
as
he
was
still
moved
by
the
spell
of
her
responsiveness
,
he
let
the
new
wave
of
feeling
break
in
words
.
Vaguely
at
first
,
and
then
with
a
growing
flame
and
force
,
he
fell
to
describing
to
her
what
the
life
of
thought
may
be
to
the
thinker
,
and
those
marvellous
moments
which
belong
to
that
life
when
the
mind
which
has
divorced
itself
from
desire
and
sense
sees
spread
out
before
it
the
vast
realms
of
knowledge
,
and
feels
itself
close
to
the
secret
springs
and
sources
of
being
.
And
as
he
spoke
,
his
language
took
an
ampler
turn
,
the
element
of
smallness
which
attaches
to
all
mere
personal
complaint
vanished
,
his
words
flowed
,
became
eloquent
,
inspired
,
till
the
bewildered
child
beside
him
,
warm
through
and
through
as
she
was
with
youth
and
passion
,
felt
for
an
instant
by
sheer
fascinated
sympathy
the
cold
spell
,
the
ineffable
prestige
,
of
the
thinker
's
voluntary
death
in
life
.
But
only
for
an
instant
.
Then
the
natural
sense
of
chill
smote
her
to
the
heart
.
'
You
make
me
shiver
,
'
she
cried
,
interrupting
him
.
'
Have
those
strange
things
—
I
do
n't
understand
them
—
made
you
happy
?
Can
they
make
any
one
happy
?
Oh
no
,
no
!
Happiness
is
to
be
got
from
living
,
seeing
,
experiencing
,
making
friends
,
enjoying
nature
!
Look
at
the
world
,
Mr.
Langham
!
'
she
said
,
with
bright
cheeks
,
half
smiling
at
her
own
magniloquence
,
her
hand
waving
over
the
view
before
them
.
'
What
has
it
done
that
you
should
hate
it
so
?
If
you
ca
n't
put
up
with
people
you
might
love
nature
.
I
—
I
ca
n't
be
content
with
nature
,
because
I
want
some
life
first
.
Up
in
Whindale
there
is
too
much
nature
,
not
enough
life
.
But
if
I
had
got
through
life
—
if
it
had
disappointed
me
—
then
I
should
love
nature
.
I
keep
saying
to
the
mountains
at
home
:
"
Not
now
,
not
now
;
I
want
something
else
,
but
afterwards
if
I
ca
n't
get
it
,
or
if
I
get
too
much
of
it
,
why
then
I
will
love
you
,
live
with
you
.
You
are
my
second
string
,
my
reserve
.
You
—
and
art
—
and
poetry
.
"
'
'
But
everything
depends
on
feeling
,
'
he
said
softly
,
but
lightly
,
as
though
to
keep
the
conversation
from
slipping
back
into
those
vague
depths
it
had
emerged
from
;
'
and
if
one
has
forgotten
how
to
feel
—
if
when
one
sees
or
hears
something
beautiful
that
used
to
stir
one
,
one
can
only
say
"
I
remember
it
moved
me
once
!
"
—
if
feeling
dies
,
like
life
,
like
physical
force
,
but
prematurely
,
long
before
the
rest
of
the
man
!
'
She
gave
a
long
quivering
sigh
of
passionate
antagonism
.
'
Oh
,
I
cannot
imagine
it
!
'
she
cried
.
'
I
shall
feel
to
my
last
hour
.
'
Then
,
after
a
pause
,
in
another
tone
,
'
But
,
Mr.
Langham
,
you
say
music
excites
you
,
Wagner
excites
you
?
'
'
Yes
,
a
sort
of
strange
second
life
I
can
still
get
out
of
music
,
'
he
admitted
,
smiling
.
'
Well
then
,
'
and
she
looked
at
him
persuasively
,
'
why
not
give
yourself
up
to
music
?
It
is
so
easy
—
so
little
trouble
to
one
's
self
—
it
just
takes
you
and
carries
you
away
.
'
Then
,
for
the
first
time
,
Langham
became
conscious
—
probably
through
these
admonitions
of
hers
—
that
the
situation
had
absurdity
in
it
.
'
It
is
not
my
métier
,
'
he
said
hastily
.
'
The
self
that
enjoys
music
is
an
outer
self
,
and
can
only
bear
with
it
for
a
short
time
.
No
,
Miss
Leyburn
,
I
shall
leave
Oxford
,
the
college
will
sing
a
Te
Deum
,
I
shall
settle
down
in
London
,
I
shall
keep
a
big
book
going
,
and
cheat
the
years
after
all
,
I
suppose
,
as
well
as
most
people
.
'
'
And
you
will
know
,
you
will
remember
,
'
she
said
faltering
,
reddening
,
her
womanliness
forcing
the
words
out
of
her
,
'
that
you
have
friends
:
Robert
—
my
sister
—
all
of
us
?
'
He
faced
her
with
a
little
quick
movement
.
And
as
their
eyes
met
each
was
struck
once
more
with
the
personal
beauty
of
the
other
.
His
eyes
shone
—
their
black
depths
seemed
all
tenderness
.
'
I
will
never
forget
this
visit
,
this
garden
,
this
hour
,
'
he
said
slowly
,
and
they
stood
looking
at
each
other
.
Rose
felt
herself
swept
off
her
feet
into
a
world
of
tragic
mysterious
emotion
.
She
all
but
put
her
hand
into
his
again
,
asking
him
childishly
to
hope
,
to
be
consoled
.
But
the
maidenly
impulse
restrained
her
,
and
once
more
he
leant
on
the
gate
,
burying
his
face
in
his
hands
.
Suddenly
he
felt
himself
utterly
tired
,
relaxed
.
Strong
nervous
reaction
set
in
.
What
had
all
this
scene
,
this
tragedy
,
been
about
?
And
then
in
another
instant
was
that
sense
of
the
ridiculous
again
clamouring
to
be
heard
.
He
—
the
man
of
thirty-five
—
confessing
himself
,
making
a
tragic
scene
,
playing
Manfred
or
Cain
to
this
adorable
half-fledged
creature
,
whom
he
had
known
five
days
!
Supposing
Elsmere
had
been
there
to
hear
—
Elsmere
with
his
sane
eye
,
his
laugh
!
As
he
leant
over
the
gate
he
found
himself
quivering
with
impatience
to
be
away
—
by
himself
—
out
of
reach
—
the
critic
in
him
making
the
most
bitter
remorseless
mock
of
all
these
heroics
and
despairs
the
other
self
had
been
indulging
in
.
But
for
the
life
of
him
he
could
not
find
a
word
to
say
—
a
move
to
make
.
He
stood
hesitating
,
gauche
,
as
usual
.
'
Do
you
know
,
Mr.
Langham
,
'
said
Rose
lightly
,
by
his
side
,
'
that
there
is
no
time
at
all
left
for
you
to
give
me
good
advice
in
?
That
is
an
obligation
still
hanging
over
you
.
I
do
n't
mean
to
release
you
from
it
,
but
if
I
do
n't
go
in
now
and
finish
the
covering
of
those
library
books
,
the
youth
of
Murewell
will
be
left
without
any
literature
till
Heaven
knows
when
!
'
He
could
have
blessed
her
for
the
tone
,
for
the
escape
into
common
mundanity
.
'
Hang
literature
—
hang
the
parish
library
!
'
he
said
with
a
laugh
as
he
moved
after
her
.
Yet
his
real
inner
feeling
towards
that
parish
library
was
one
of
infinite
friendliness
.
'
Hear
these
men
of
letters
!
'
she
said
scornfully
.
But
she
was
happy
;
there
was
a
glow
on
her
cheek
.
A
bramble
caught
her
dress
;
she
stopped
and
laid
her
white
hand
to
it
,
but
in
vain
.
He
knelt
in
an
instant
,
and
between
them
they
wrenched
it
away
,
but
not
till
those
soft
slim
fingers
had
several
times
felt
the
neighbourhood
of
his
brown
ones
,
and
till
there
had
flown
through
and
through
him
once
more
,
as
she
stooped
over
him
,
the
consciousness
that
she
was
young
,
that
she
was
beautiful
,
that
she
had
pitied
him
so
sweetly
,
that
they
were
alone
.
'
Rose
!
'
It
was
Catherine
calling
—
Catherine
,
who
stood
at
the
end
of
the
grass-path
,
with
eyes
all
indignation
and
alarm
.
Langham
rose
quickly
from
the
ground
.
He
felt
as
though
the
gods
had
saved
him
—
or
damned
him
—
which
?
CHAPTER
XVII
Murewell
Rectory
during
the
next
forty-eight
hours
was
the
scene
of
much
that
might
have
been
of
interest
to
a
psychologist
gifted
with
the
power
of
divining
his
neighbours
.
In
the
first
place
Catherine
's
terrors
were
all
alive
again
Robert
had
never
seen
her
so
moved
since
those
days
of
storm
and
stress
before
their
engagement
.
'
I
cannot
bear
it
!
'
she
said
to
Robert
at
night
in
their
room
.
'
I
cannot
bear
it
!
I
hear
it
always
in
my
ears
:
"
What
hast
thou
done
with
thy
sister
?
"
Oh
,
Robert
,
do
n't
mind
,
dear
,
though
he
is
your
friend
.
My
father
would
have
shrunk
from
him
with
horror
—
An
alien
from
the
household
of
faith
!
An
enemy
to
the
Cross
of
Christ
!
'
She
flung
out
the
words
with
low
intense
emphasis
and
frowning
brow
,
standing
rigid
by
the
window
,
her
hands
locked
behind
her
.
Robert
stood
by
her
much
perplexed
,
feeling
himself
a
good
deal
of
a
culprit
,
but
inwardly
conscious
that
he
knew
a
great
deal
more
about
Langham
than
she
did
.
'
My
dear
wifie
,
'
he
said
to
her
,
'
I
am
certain
Langham
has
no
intention
of
marrying
.
'
'
Then
more
shame
for
him
,
'
cried
Catherine
,
flushing
.
'
They
could
not
have
looked
more
conscious
,
Robert
,
when
I
found
them
together
,
if
he
had
just
proposed
.
'
'
What
,
in
five
days
?
'
said
Robert
,
more
than
half
inclined
to
banter
his
wife
.
Then
he
fell
into
meditation
as
Catherine
made
no
answer
.
'
I
believe
with
men
of
that
sort
,
'
he
said
at
last
,
'
relations
to
women
are
never
more
than
half-real
—
always
more
or
less
literature
—
acting
.
Langham
is
tasting
an
experience
,
to
be
bottled
up
for
future
use
.
'
It
need
hardly
be
said
,
however
,
that
Catherine
got
small
consolation
out
of
this
point
of
view
.
It
seemed
to
her
Robert
did
not
take
the
matter
quite
rightly
.
'
After
all
,
darling
,
'
he
said
at
last
,
kissing
her
,
'
you
can
act
dragon
splendidly
;
you
have
already
—
so
can
I
.
And
you
really
cannot
make
me
believe
in
anything
very
tragic
in
a
week
.
'
But
Catherine
was
conscious
that
she
had
already
played
the
dragon
hard
,
to
very
little
purpose
.
In
the
forty
hours
that
intervened
between
the
scene
in
the
garden
and
the
squire
's
dinner-party
,
Robert
was
always
wanting
to
carry
off
Langham
,
Catherine
was
always
asking
Rose
's
help
in
some
household
business
or
other
.
In
vain
.
Langham
said
to
himself
calmly
,
this
time
,
that
Elsmere
and
his
wife
were
making
a
foolish
mistake
in
supposing
that
his
friendship
with
Miss
Leyburn
was
anything
to
be
alarmed
about
,
that
they
would
soon
be
amply
convinced
of
it
themselves
,
and
meanwhile
he
should
take
his
own
way
.
And
as
for
Rose
,
they
had
no
sooner
turned
back
all
three
from
the
house
to
the
garden
than
she
had
divined
everything
in
Catherine
's
mind
,
and
set
herself
against
her
sister
with
a
wilful
force
in
which
many
a
past
irritation
found
expression
.
How
Catherine
hated
the
music
of
that
week
!
It
seemed
to
her
she
never
opened
the
drawing-room
door
but
she
saw
Langham
at
the
piano
,
his
head
with
its
crown
of
glossy
,
curling
black
hair
,
and
his
eyes
lit
with
unwonted
gleams
of
laughter
and
sympathy
,
turned
towards
Rose
,
who
was
either
chatting
wildly
to
him
,
mimicking
the
airs
of
some
professional
,
or
taking
off
the
ways
of
some
famous
teacher
;
or
else
,
which
was
worse
,
playing
with
all
her
soul
,
flooding
the
house
with
sound
—
now
as
soft
and
delicate
as
first
love
,
now
as
full
and
grand
as
storm
waves
on
an
angry
coast
.
And
the
sister
going
with
compressed
lip
to
her
work-table
would
recognise
sorely
that
never
had
the
girl
looked
so
handsome
,
and
never
had
the
lightnings
of
a
wayward
genius
played
so
finely
about
her
.
As
to
Langham
,
it
may
well
be
believed
that
after
the
scene
in
the
garden
he
had
rated
,
satirised
,
examined
himself
in
the
most
approved
introspective
style
.
One
half
of
him
declared
that
scene
to
have
been
the
heights
of
melodramatic
absurdity
;
the
other
thought
of
it
with
a
thrill
of
tender
gratitude
towards
the
young
pitiful
creature
who
had
evoked
it
.
After
all
,
why
,
because
he
was
alone
in
the
world
and
must
remain
so
,
should
he
feel
bound
to
refuse
this
one
gift
of
the
gods
,
the
delicate
passing
gift
of
a
girl
's
—
a
child
's
friendship
?
As
for
her
,
the
man
's
very
real
,
though
wholly
morbid
,
modesty
scouted
the
notion
of
love
on
her
side
.
He
was
a
likely
person
for
a
beauty
on
the
threshold
of
life
and
success
to
fall
in
love
with
;
but
she
meant
to
be
kind
to
him
,
and
he
smiled
a
little
inward
indulgent
smile
over
her
very
evident
compassion
,
her
very
evident
intention
of
reforming
him
,
reconciling
him
to
life
.
And
,
finally
,
he
was
incapable
of
any
further
resistance
.
He
had
gone
too
far
with
her
.
Let
her
do
what
she
would
with
him
,
dear
child
,
with
the
sharp
tongue
and
the
soft
heart
,
and
the
touch
of
genius
and
brilliancy
which
made
her
future
so
interesting
!
He
called
his
age
and
his
disillusions
to
the
rescue
;
he
posed
to
himself
as
stooping
to
her
in
some
sort
of
elder-brotherly
fashion
;
and
if
every
now
and
then
some
disturbing
memory
of
that
strange
scene
between
them
would
come
to
make
his
present
rôle
less
plausible
,
or
some
whim
of
hers
made
it
difficult
to
play
,
why
then
at
bottom
there
was
always
the
consciousness
that
sixty
hours
,
or
thereabouts
,
would
see
him
safely
settled
in
that
morning
train
to
London
.
Throughout
it
is
probable
that
that
morning
train
occupied
the
saving
background
of
his
thoughts
.
The
two
days
passed
by
,
and
the
squire
's
dinner-party
arrived
.
About
seven
on
the
Thursday
evening
a
party
of
four
might
have
been
seen
hurrying
across
the
park
—
Langham
and
Catherine
in
front
,
Elsmere
and
Rose
behind
.
Catherine
had
arranged
it
so
,
and
Langham
,
who
understood
perfectly
that
his
friendship
with
her
young
sister
was
not
at
all
to
Mrs.
Elsmere
's
taste
,
and
who
had
by
now
taken
as
much
of
a
dislike
to
her
as
his
nature
was
capable
of
,
was
certainly
doing
nothing
to
make
his
walk
with
her
otherwise
than
difficult
.
And
every
now
and
then
some
languid
epigram
would
bring
Catherine
's
eyes
on
him
with
a
fiery
gleam
in
their
gray
depths
.
Oh
,
fourteen
more
hours
and
she
would
have
shut
the
rectory
gate
on
this
most
unwelcome
of
intruders
!
She
had
never
felt
so
vindictively
anxious
to
see
the
last
of
any
one
in
her
life
.
There
was
in
her
a
vehemence
of
antagonism
to
the
man
's
manner
,
his
pessimism
,
his
infidelity
,
his
very
ways
of
speaking
and
looking
,
which
astonished
even
herself
.
Robert
's
eager
soul
meanwhile
,
for
once
irresponsive
to
Catherine
's
,
was
full
of
nothing
but
the
squire
.
At
last
the
moment
was
come
,
and
that
dumb
spiritual
friendship
he
had
formed
through
these
long
months
with
the
philosopher
and
the
savant
was
to
be
tested
by
sight
and
speech
of
the
man
.
He
bade
himself
a
hundred
times
pitch
his
expectations
low
.
But
curiosity
and
hope
were
keen
,
in
spite
of
everything
.
Ah
,
those
parish
worries
!
Robert
caught
the
smoke
of
Mile
End
in
the
distance
,
curling
above
the
twilight
woods
,
and
laid
about
him
vigorously
with
his
stick
on
the
squire
's
shrubs
,
as
he
thought
of
those
poisonous
hovels
,
those
ruined
lives
!
But
,
after
all
,
it
might
be
mere
ignorance
,
and
that
wretch
Henslowe
might
have
been
merely
trading
on
his
master
's
morbid
love
of
solitude
.
And
then
—
all
men
have
their
natural
conceits
.
Robert
Elsmere
would
not
have
been
the
very
human
creature
he
was
if
,
half-consciously
,
he
had
not
counted
a
good
deal
on
his
own
powers
of
influence
.
Life
had
been
to
him
so
far
one
long
social
success
of
the
best
kind
.
Very
likely
as
he
walked
on
to
the
great
house
over
whose
threshold
lay
the
answer
to
the
enigma
of
months
,
his
mind
gradually
filled
with
some
naïve
young
dream
of
winning
the
squire
,
playing
him
with
all
sorts
of
honest
arts
,
beguiling
him
back
to
life
—
to
his
kind
.
Those
friendly
messages
of
his
through
Mrs.
Darcy
had
been
very
pleasant
.
'
I
wonder
whether
my
Oxford
friends
have
been
doing
me
a
good
turn
with
the
squire
,
'
he
said
to
Rose
,
laughing
.
'
He
knows
the
provost
,
of
course
.
If
they
talked
me
over
it
is
to
be
hoped
my
scholarship
did
n't
come
up
.
Precious
little
the
provost
used
to
think
of
my
abilities
for
Greek
prose
!
'
Rose
yawned
a
little
behind
her
gloved
hand
.
Robert
had
already
talked
a
good
deal
about
the
squire
,
and
he
was
certainly
the
only
person
in
the
group
who
was
thinking
of
him
.
Even
Catherine
,
absorbed
in
other
anxieties
,
had
forgotten
to
feel
any
thrill
at
their
approaching
introduction
to
the
man
who
must
of
necessity
mean
so
much
to
herself
and
Robert
.
'
Mr
.
and
Mrs.
Robert
Elsmere
,
'
said
the
butler
,
throwing
open
the
carved
and
gilded
doors
.
Catherine
—
following
her
husband
,
her
fine
grave
head
and
beautiful
neck
held
a
little
more
erect
than
usual
—
was
at
first
conscious
of
nothing
but
the
dazzle
of
western
light
which
flooded
the
room
,
striking
the
stands
of
Japanese
lilies
,
and
the
white
figure
of
a
clown
in
the
famous
Watteau
opposite
the
window
.
Then
she
found
herself
greeted
by
Mrs.
Darcy
,
whose
odd
habit
of
holding
her
lace
handkerchief
in
her
right
hand
on
festive
occasions
only
left
her
two
fingers
for
her
guests
.
The
mistress
of
the
Hall
—
as
diminutive
and
elf-like
as
ever
in
spite
of
the
added
dignity
of
her
sweeping
silk
and
the
draperies
of
black
lace
with
which
her
tiny
head
was
adorned
—
kept
tight
hold
of
Catherine
,
and
called
a
gentleman
standing
in
a
group
just
behind
her
.
'
Roger
,
here
are
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Robert
Elsmere
.
Mr.
Elsmere
,
the
squire
remembers
you
in
petticoats
,
and
I
'm
not
sure
that
I
do
n't
too
.
'
Robert
,
smiling
,
looked
beyond
her
to
the
advancing
figure
of
the
squire
,
but
if
Mr.
Wendover
heard
his
sister
's
remark
he
took
no
notice
of
it
.
He
held
out
his
hand
stiffly
to
Robert
,
bowed
to
Catherine
and
Rose
before
extending
to
them
the
same
formal
greeting
,
and
just
recognised
Langham
as
having
met
him
at
Oxford
.
Having
done
so
he
turned
back
to
the
knot
of
people
with
whom
he
had
been
engaged
on
their
entrance
.
His
manner
had
been
reserve
itself
.
The
hauteur
of
the
grandee
on
his
own
ground
was
clearly
marked
in
it
,
and
Robert
could
not
help
fancying
that
towards
himself
there
had
even
been
something
more
.
And
not
one
of
those
phrases
which
,
under
the
circumstances
,
would
have
been
so
easy
and
so
gracious
,
as
to
Robert
's
childish
connection
with
the
place
,
or
as
to
the
squire
's
remembrance
of
his
father
,
even
though
Mrs.
Darcy
had
given
him
a
special
opening
of
the
kind
.
The
young
rector
instinctively
drew
himself
together
,
like
one
who
has
received
a
blow
,
as
he
moved
across
to
the
other
side
of
the
fireplace
to
shake
hands
with
the
worthy
family
doctor
,
old
Meyrick
,
who
was
already
well
known
to
him
.
Catherine
,
in
some
discomfort
,
for
she
too
had
felt
their
reception
at
the
squire
's
hands
to
be
a
chilling
one
,
sat
down
to
talk
to
Mrs.
Darcy
,
disagreeably
conscious
the
while
that
Rose
and
Langham
left
to
themselves
were
practically
tête-à-tête
,
and
that
,
moreover
,
a
large
stand
of
flowers
formed
a
partial
screen
between
her
and
them
.
She
could
see
,
however
,
the
gleam
of
Rose
's
upstretched
neck
,
as
Langham
,
who
was
leaning
on
the
piano
beside
her
,
bent
down
to
talk
to
her
;
and
when
she
looked
next
she
caught
a
smiling
motion
of
Langham
's
head
and
eyes
towards
the
Romney
portrait
of
Mr.
Wendover
's
grandmother
,
and
was
certain
when
he
stooped
afterwards
to
say
something
to
his
companion
,
that
he
was
commenting
on
a
certain
surface
likeness
there
was
between
her
and
the
young
auburn-haired
beauty
of
the
picture
.
Hateful
!
And
they
would
be
sent
down
to
dinner
together
to
a
certainty
.
The
other
guests
were
Lady
Charlotte
Wynnstay
,
a
cousin
of
the
squire
—
a
tall
,
imperious
,
loud-voiced
woman
,
famous
in
London
society
for
her
relationships
,
her
audacity
,
and
the
salon
which
in
one
way
or
another
she
managed
to
collect
round
her
;
her
dark
,
thin
,
irritable-looking
husband
;
two
neighbouring
clerics
—
the
first
,
by
name
Longstaffe
,
a
somewhat
inferior
specimen
of
the
cloth
,
whom
Robert
cordially
disliked
;
and
the
other
,
Mr.
Bickerton
,
a
gentle
Evangelical
,
one
of
those
men
who
help
to
ease
the
harshness
of
a
cross-grained
world
,
and
to
reconcile
the
cleverer
or
more
impatient
folk
in
it
to
the
worries
of
living
.
Lady
Charlotte
was
already
known
by
name
to
the
Elsmeres
as
the
aunt
of
one
of
their
chief
friends
of
the
neighbourhood
—
the
wife
of
a
neighbouring
squire
whose
property
joined
that
of
Murewell
Hall
,
one
Lady
Helen
Varley
,
of
whom
more
presently
.
Lady
Charlotte
was
the
sister
of
the
Duke
of
Sedbergh
,
one
of
the
greatest
of
dukes
,
and
the
sister
also
of
Lady
Helen
's
mother
,
Lady
Wanless
.
Lady
Wanless
had
died
prematurely
,
and
her
two
younger
children
,
Helen
and
Hugh
Flaxman
,
creatures
both
of
them
of
unusually
fine
and
fiery
quality
,
had
owed
a
good
deal
to
their
aunt
.
There
were
family
alliances
between
the
Sedberghs
and
the
Wendovers
,
and
Lady
Charlotte
made
a
point
of
keeping
up
with
the
squire
.
She
adored
cynics
and
people
who
said
piquant
things
,
and
it
amused
her
to
make
her
large
tyrannous
hand
felt
by
the
squire
's
timid
,
crack-brained
,
ridiculous
little
sister
.
As
to
Dr.
Meyrick
,
he
was
tall
and
gaunt
as
Don
Quixote
.
His
gray
hair
made
a
ragged
fringe
round
his
straight-backed
head
;
he
wore
an
old-fashioned
neck-cloth
;
his
long
body
had
a
perpetual
stoop
,
as
though
of
deference
,
and
his
spectacled
look
of
mild
attentiveness
had
nothing
in
common
with
that
medical
self-assurance
with
which
we
are
all
nowadays
so
familiar
.
Robert
noticed
presently
that
when
he
addressed
Mrs.
Darcy
he
said
'
Ma'am
,
'
making
no
bones
at
all
about
it
;
and
his
manner
generally
was
the
manner
of
one
to
whom
class
distinctions
were
the
profoundest
reality
,
and
no
burden
at
all
on
a
naturally
humble
temper
.
Dr.
Baker
,
of
Whindale
,
accustomed
to
trouncing
Mrs.
Seaton
,
would
have
thought
him
a
poor
creature
.
When
dinner
was
announced
,
Robert
found
himself
assigned
to
Mrs.
Darcy
;
the
squire
took
Lady
Charlotte
.
Catherine
fell
to
Mr.
Bickerton
,
Rose
to
Mr.
Wynnstay
,
and
the
rest
found
their
way
in
as
best
they
could
.
Catherine
seeing
the
distribution
was
happy
for
a
moment
,
till
she
found
that
if
Rose
was
covered
on
her
right
she
was
exposed
to
the
full
fire
of
the
enemy
on
her
left
,
in
other
words
that
Langham
was
placed
between
her
and
Dr.
Meyrick
.
'
Are
your
spirits
damped
at
all
by
this
magnificence
?
'
Langham
said
to
his
neighbour
as
they
sat
down
.
The
table
was
entirely
covered
with
Japanese
lilies
,
save
for
the
splendid
silver
candelabra
from
which
the
light
flashed
,
first
on
to
the
faces
of
the
guests
,
and
then
on
to
those
of
the
family
portraits
,
hung
thickly
round
the
room
.
A
roof
embossed
with
gilded
Tudor
roses
on
a
ground
of
black
oak
hung
above
them
;
a
rose-
water
dish
in
which
the
Merry
Monarch
had
once
dipped
his
hands
,
and
which
bore
a
record
of
the
fact
in
the
inscription
on
its
sides
,
stood
before
them
;
and
the
servants
were
distributing
to
each
guest
silver
soup-plates
which
had
been
the
gift
of
Sarah
,
Duchess
of
Marlborough
,
in
some
moment
of
generosity
or
calculation
,
to
the
Wendover
of
her
day
.
'
Oh
dear
,
no
!
'
said
Rose
carelessly
.
'
I
do
n't
know
how
it
is
,
I
think
I
must
have
been
born
for
a
palace
.
'
Langham
looked
at
her
,
at
the
daring
harmony
of
colour
made
by
the
reddish
gold
of
her
hair
,
the
warm
whiteness
of
her
skin
,
and
the
brown-pink
tints
of
her
dress
,
at
the
crystals
playing
the
part
of
diamonds
on
her
beautiful
neck
,
and
remembered
Robert
's
remarks
to
him
.
The
same
irony
mingled
with
the
same
bitterness
returned
to
him
,
and
the
elder
brother
's
attitude
became
once
more
temporarily
difficult
.
'
Who
is
your
neighbour
?
'
he
inquired
of
her
presently
.
'
Lady
Charlotte
's
husband
,
