JOHN
SHERMAN
AND
DHOYA
GANCONAGH
JOHN
SHERMAN
AND
DHOYA
SECOND
EDITION
LONDON
T
.
FISHER
UNWIN
PATERNOSTER
SQUARE
M
DCCC
XCI
GANCONAGH’S
APOLOGY
.
The
maker
of
these
stories
has
been
told
that
he
must
not
bring
them
to
you
himself
.
He
has
asked
me
to
pretend
that
I
am
the
author
.
I
am
an
old
little
Irish
spirit
,
and
I
sit
in
the
hedges
and
watch
the
world
go
by
.
I
see
the
boys
going
to
market
driving
donkeys
with
creels
of
turf
,
and
the
girls
carrying
baskets
of
apples
.
Sometimes
I
call
to
some
pretty
face
,
and
we
chat
a
little
in
the
shadow
,
the
apple
basket
before
us
,
for
,
as
my
faithful
historian
O’Kearney
has
put
it
in
his
now
yellow
manuscript
,
I
care
for
nothing
in
the
world
but
love
and
idleness
.
Will
not
you
,
too
,
sit
down
under
the
shade
of
the
bushes
while
I
read
you
the
stories
?
The
first
I
do
not
care
for
because
it
deals
with
dull
persons
and
the
world’s
affairs
,
but
the
second
has
to
do
with
my
own
people
.
If
my
voice
at
whiles
grows
distant
and
dreamy
when
I
talk
of
the
world’s
affairs
,
remember
that
I
have
seen
all
from
my
hole
in
the
hedge
.
I
hear
continually
the
songs
of
my
own
people
who
dance
upon
the
hill-side
,
and
am
content
.
I
have
never
carried
apples
or
driven
turf
myself
,
or
if
I
did
it
was
only
in
a
dream
.
Nor
do
my
kind
use
any
of
man’s
belongings
except
the
little
black
pipes
which
the
farmers
find
now
and
then
when
they
are
turning
the
sods
over
with
a
plough
.
GANCONAGH
.
PART
I
.
JOHN
SHERMAN
LEAVES
BALLAH
.
I
.
In
the
west
of
Ireland
,
on
the
9th
of
December
,
in
the
town
of
Ballah
,
in
the
Imperial
Hotel
there
was
a
single
guest
,
clerical
and
youthful
.
With
the
exception
of
a
stray
commercial
traveller
,
who
stopped
once
for
a
night
,
there
had
been
nobody
for
a
whole
month
but
this
guest
,
and
now
he
was
thinking
of
going
away
.
The
town
,
full
enough
in
summer
of
trout
and
salmon
fishers
,
slept
all
winter
like
the
bears
.
On
the
evening
of
the
9th
of
December
,
in
the
coffee-room
of
the
Imperial
Hotel
,
there
was
nobody
but
this
guest
.
The
guest
was
irritated
.
It
had
rained
all
day
,
and
now
that
it
was
clearing
up
night
had
almost
fallen
.
He
had
packed
his
portmanteau
:
his
stockings
,
his
clothes-brush
,
his
razor
,
his
dress
shoes
were
each
in
their
corner
,
and
now
he
had
nothing
to
do
.
He
had
tried
the
paper
that
was
lying
on
the
table
.
He
did
not
agree
with
its
politics
.
The
waiter
was
playing
an
accordion
in
a
little
room
over
the
stairs
.
The
guest’s
irritation
increased
,
for
the
more
he
thought
about
it
the
more
he
perceived
that
the
accordion
was
badly
played
.
There
was
a
piano
in
the
coffee-room
;
he
sat
down
at
it
and
played
the
tune
correctly
,
as
loudly
as
possible
.
The
waiter
took
no
notice
.
He
did
not
know
that
he
was
being
played
for
.
He
was
wholly
absorbed
in
his
own
playing
,
and
besides
he
was
old
,
obstinate
,
and
deaf
.
The
guest
could
stand
it
no
longer
.
He
rang
for
the
waiter
,
and
then
,
remembering
that
he
did
not
need
anything
,
went
out
before
he
came
.
He
went
through
Martin’s
Street
,
and
Peter’s
Lane
,
and
turned
down
by
the
burnt
house
at
the
corner
of
the
fish-market
,
picking
his
way
towards
the
bridge
.
The
town
was
dripping
,
but
the
rain
was
almost
over
.
The
large
drops
fell
seldomer
and
seldomer
into
the
puddles
.
It
was
the
hour
of
ducks
.
Three
or
four
had
squeezed
themselves
under
a
gate
,
and
were
now
splashing
about
in
the
gutter
of
the
main
street
.
There
was
scarcely
any
one
abroad
.
Once
or
twice
a
countryman
went
by
in
yellow
gaiters
covered
with
mud
and
looked
at
the
guest
.
Once
an
old
woman
with
a
basket
of
clothes
,
recognizing
the
Protestant
curate’s
locum
tenens
,
made
a
low
curtsey
.
The
clouds
gradually
drifted
away
,
the
twilight
deepened
and
the
stars
came
out
.
The
guest
,
having
bought
some
cigarettes
,
had
spread
his
waterproof
on
the
parapet
of
the
bridge
and
was
now
leaning
his
elbows
upon
it
,
looking
at
the
river
and
feeling
at
last
quite
tranquil
.
His
meditations
,
he
repeated
,
to
himself
,
were
plated
with
silver
by
the
stars
.
The
water
slid
noiselessly
,
and
one
or
two
of
the
larger
stars
made
little
roadways
of
fire
into
the
darkness
.
The
light
from
a
distant
casement
made
also
its
roadway
.
Once
or
twice
a
fish
leaped
.
Along
the
banks
were
the
vague
shadows
of
houses
,
seeming
like
phantoms
gathering
to
drink
.
Yes
;
he
felt
now
quite
contented
with
the
world
.
Amidst
his
enjoyment
of
the
shadows
and
the
river
—
a
veritable
festival
of
silence
—
was
mixed
pleasantly
the
knowledge
that
,
as
he
leant
there
with
the
light
of
a
neighbouring
gas-jet
,
flickering
faintly
on
his
refined
form
and
nervous
face
and
glancing
from
the
little
medal
of
some
Anglican
order
that
hung
upon
his
watch-guard
,
he
must
have
seemed
—
if
there
had
been
any
to
witness
—
a
being
of
a
different
kind
to
the
inhabitants
—
at
once
rough
and
conventional
—
of
this
half-deserted
town
.
Between
these
two
feelings
the
unworldly
and
the
worldly
tossed
a
leaping
wave
of
perfect
enjoyment
.
How
pleasantly
conscious
of
his
own
identity
it
made
him
when
he
thought
how
he
and
not
those
whose
birthright
it
was
,
felt
most
the
beauty
of
these
shadows
and
this
river
?
To
him
who
had
read
much
,
seen
operas
and
plays
,
known
religious
experiences
,
and
written
verse
to
a
waterfall
in
Switzerland
,
and
not
to
those
who
dwelt
upon
its
borders
for
their
whole
lives
,
did
this
river
raise
a
tumult
of
images
and
wonders
.
What
meaning
it
had
for
them
he
could
not
imagine
.
Some
meaning
surely
it
must
have
!
As
he
gazed
out
into
the
darkness
,
spinning
a
web
of
thoughts
from
himself
to
the
river
,
from
the
river
to
himself
,
he
saw
,
with
a
corner
of
his
eye
,
a
spot
of
red
light
moving
in
the
air
at
the
other
end
of
the
bridge
.
He
turned
towards
it
.
It
came
closer
and
closer
,
there
appearing
behind
it
the
while
a
man
and
a
cigar
.
The
man
carried
in
one
hand
a
mass
of
fishing-line
covered
with
hooks
,
and
in
the
other
a
tin
porringer
full
of
bait
.
“
Good
evening
,
Howard
.
”
“
Good
evening
,
”
answered
the
guest
,
taking
his
elbows
off
the
parapet
and
looking
in
a
preoccupied
way
at
the
man
with
the
hooks
.
It
was
only
gradually
he
remembered
that
he
was
in
Ballah
among
the
barbarians
,
for
his
mind
had
strayed
from
the
last
evening
gnats
,
making
circles
on
the
water
beneath
,
to
the
devil’s
song
against
“
the
little
spirits
”
in
“
Mefistofele
.
”
Looking
down
at
the
stone
parapet
he
considered
a
moment
and
then
burst
out
—
“
Sherman
,
how
do
you
stand
this
place
—
you
who
have
thoughts
above
mere
eating
and
sleeping
and
are
not
always
grinding
at
the
stubble
mill
?
Here
everybody
lives
in
the
eighteenth
century
—
the
squalid
century
.
Well
,
I
am
going
to-morrow
,
you
know
.
Thank
Heaven
,
I
am
done
with
your
grey
streets
and
grey
minds
!
The
curate
must
come
home
,
sick
or
well
.
I
have
a
religious
essay
to
write
,
and
besides
I
should
die
.
Think
of
that
old
fellow
at
the
corner
there
,
our
most
important
parishioner
.
There
are
no
more
hairs
on
his
head
than
thoughts
in
his
skull
.
To
merely
look
at
him
is
to
rob
life
of
its
dignity
.
Then
there
is
nothing
in
the
shops
but
school-books
and
Sunday-school
prizes
.
Excellent
,
no
doubt
,
for
any
one
who
has
not
had
to
read
as
many
as
I
have
.
Such
a
choir
!
such
rain
!
”
“
You
need
some
occupation
peculiar
to
the
place
,
”
said
the
other
,
baiting
his
hooks
with
worms
out
of
the
little
porringer
.
“
I
catch
eels
.
You
should
set
some
night-lines
too
.
You
bait
them
with
worms
in
this
way
,
and
put
them
among
the
weeds
at
the
edge
of
the
river
.
In
the
morning
you
find
an
eel
or
two
,
if
you
have
good
fortune
,
turning
round
and
round
and
making
the
weeds
sway
.
I
shall
catch
a
great
many
after
this
rain
.
”
“
What
a
suggestion
!
Do
you
mean
to
stay
here
,
”
said
Howard
,
“
till
your
mind
rots
like
our
most
important
parishioner’s
?
”
“
No
,
no
!
To
be
quite
frank
with
you
,
”
replied
the
other
,
“
I
have
some
good
looks
and
shall
try
to
turn
them
to
account
by
going
away
from
here
pretty
soon
and
trying
to
persuade
some
girl
with
money
to
fall
in
love
with
me
.
I
shall
not
be
altogether
a
bad
match
,
you
see
,
because
after
she
has
made
me
a
little
prosperous
my
uncle
will
die
and
make
me
much
more
so
.
I
wish
to
be
able
always
to
remain
a
lounger
.
Yes
,
I
shall
marry
money
.
My
mother
has
set
her
heart
on
it
,
and
I
am
not
,
you
see
,
the
kind
of
person
who
falls
in
love
inconveniently
.
For
the
present
—
—
”
“
You
are
vegetating
,
”
interrupted
the
other
.
“
No
,
I
am
seeing
the
world
.
In
your
big
towns
a
man
finds
his
minority
and
knows
nothing
outside
its
border
.
He
knows
only
the
people
like
himself
.
But
here
one
chats
with
the
whole
world
in
a
day’s
walk
,
for
every
man
one
meets
is
a
class
.
The
knowledge
I
am
picking
up
may
be
useful
to
me
when
I
enter
the
great
cities
and
their
ignorance
.
But
I
have
lines
to
set
.
Come
with
me
.
I
would
ask
you
home
,
but
you
and
my
mother
,
you
know
,
do
not
get
on
well
.
”
“
I
could
not
live
with
any
one
I
did
not
believe
in
,
”
said
Howard
;
“
you
are
so
different
from
me
.
You
can
live
with
mere
facts
,
and
that
is
why
,
I
suppose
,
your
schemes
are
so
mercenary
.
Before
this
beautiful
river
,
these
stars
,
these
great
purple
shadows
,
do
you
not
feel
like
an
insect
in
a
flower
?
As
for
me
,
I
also
have
planned
my
future
.
Not
too
near
or
too
far
from
a
great
city
I
see
myself
in
a
cottage
with
diamond
panes
,
sitting
by
the
fire
.
There
are
books
everywhere
and
etchings
on
the
wall
;
on
the
table
is
a
manuscript
essay
on
some
religious
matter
.
Perhaps
I
shall
marry
some
day
.
Probably
not
,
for
I
shall
ask
so
much
.
Certainly
I
shall
not
marry
for
money
,
for
I
hold
the
directness
and
sincerity
of
the
nature
to
be
its
compass
.
If
we
once
break
it
the
world
grows
trackless
.
”
“
Good-bye
,
”
said
Sherman
,
briskly
;
“
I
have
baited
the
last
hook
.
Your
schemes
suit
you
,
but
a
sluggish
fellow
like
me
,
poor
devil
,
who
wishes
to
lounge
through
the
world
,
would
find
them
expensive
.
”
They
parted
;
Sherman
to
set
his
lines
and
Howard
to
his
hotel
in
high
spirits
,
for
it
seemed
to
him
he
had
been
eloquent
.
The
billiard-room
,
which
opened
on
the
street
,
was
lighted
up
.
A
few
young
men
came
round
to
play
sometimes
.
He
went
in
,
for
among
these
provincial
youths
he
felt
recherché
;
besides
,
he
was
a
really
good
player
.
As
he
came
in
one
of
the
players
missed
and
swore
.
Howard
reproved
him
with
a
look
.
He
joined
the
play
for
a
time
,
and
then
catching
sight
through
a
distant
door
of
the
hotel-keeper’s
wife
putting
a
kettle
on
the
hob
he
hurried
off
,
and
,
drawing
a
chair
to
the
fire
,
began
one
of
those
long
gossips
about
everybody’s
affairs
peculiar
to
the
cloth
.
As
Sherman
,
having
set
his
lines
,
returned
home
,
he
passed
a
tobacconist’s
—
a
sweet-shop
and
tobacconist’s
in
one
—
the
only
shop
in
town
,
except
public-houses
,
that
remained
open
.
The
tobacconist
was
standing
in
his
door
,
and
,
recognizing
one
who
dealt
consistently
with
a
rival
at
the
other
end
of
the
town
,
muttered
:
“
There
goes
that
gluggerabunthaun
and
Jack
o’
Dreams
;
been
fishing
most
likely
.
Ugh
!
”
Sherman
paused
for
a
moment
as
he
repassed
the
bridge
and
looked
at
the
water
,
on
which
now
a
new-risen
and
crescent
moon
was
shining
dimly
.
How
full
of
memories
it
was
to
him
!
what
playmates
and
boyish
adventures
did
it
not
bring
to
mind
!
To
him
it
seemed
to
say
,
“
Stay
near
to
me
,
”
as
to
Howard
it
had
said
,
“
Go
yonder
,
to
those
other
joys
and
other
sceneries
I
have
told
you
of
.
”
It
bade
him
who
loved
stay
still
and
dream
,
and
gave
flying
feet
to
him
who
imagined
.
II
.
The
house
where
Sherman
and
his
mother
lived
was
one
of
those
bare
houses
so
common
in
country
towns
.
Their
dashed
fronts
mounting
above
empty
pavements
have
a
kind
of
dignity
in
their
utilitarianism
.
They
seem
to
say
,
“
Fashion
has
not
made
us
,
nor
ever
do
its
caprices
pass
our
sand-cleaned
doorsteps
.
”
On
every
basement
window
is
the
same
dingy
wire
blind
;
on
every
door
the
same
brass
knocker
.
Custom
everywhere
!
“
So
much
the
longer
,
”
the
blinds
seem
to
say
,
“
have
eyes
glanced
through
us
”
;
and
the
knockers
to
murmur
,
“
And
fingers
lifted
us
.
”
No.
15
,
Stephens’
Row
,
was
in
no
manner
peculiar
among
its
twenty
fellows
.
The
chairs
in
the
drawing-room
facing
the
street
were
of
heavy
mahogany
with
horsehair
cushions
worn
at
the
corners
.
On
the
round
table
was
somebody’s
commentary
on
the
New
Testament
laid
like
the
spokes
of
a
wheel
on
a
table-cover
of
American
oilcloth
with
stamped
Japanese
figures
half
worn
away
.
The
room
was
seldom
used
,
for
Mrs.
Sherman
was
solitary
because
silent
.
In
this
room
the
dressmaker
sat
twice
a
year
,
and
here
the
rector’s
wife
used
every
month
or
so
to
drink
a
cup
of
tea
.
It
was
quite
clean
.
There
was
not
a
fly-mark
on
the
mirror
,
and
all
summer
the
fern
in
the
grate
was
constantly
changed
.
Behind
this
room
and
overlooking
the
garden
was
the
parlour
,
where
cane-bottomed
chairs
took
the
place
of
mahogany
.
Sherman
had
lived
here
with
his
mother
all
his
life
,
and
their
old
servant
hardly
remembered
having
lived
anywhere
else
;
and
soon
she
would
absolutely
cease
to
remember
the
world
she
knew
before
she
saw
the
four
walls
of
this
house
,
for
every
day
she
forgot
something
fresh
.
The
son
was
almost
thirty
,
the
mother
fifty
,
and
the
servant
near
seventy
.
Every
year
they
had
two
hundred
pounds
among
them
,
and
once
a
year
the
son
got
a
new
suit
of
clothes
and
went
into
the
drawing-room
to
look
at
himself
in
the
mirror
.
On
the
morning
of
the
20th
of
December
Mrs.
Sherman
was
down
before
her
son
.
A
spare
,
delicate-featured
woman
,
with
somewhat
thin
lips
tightly
closed
as
with
silent
people
,
and
eyes
at
once
gentle
and
distrustful
,
tempering
the
hardness
of
the
lips
.
She
helped
the
servant
to
set
the
table
,
and
then
,
for
her
old-fashioned
ideas
would
not
allow
her
to
rest
,
began
to
knit
,
often
interrupting
her
knitting
to
go
into
the
kitchen
or
to
listen
at
the
foot
of
the
stairs
.
At
last
,
hearing
a
sound
upstairs
,
she
put
the
eggs
down
to
boil
,
muttering
the
while
,
and
began
again
to
knit
.
When
her
son
appeared
she
received
him
with
a
smile
.
“
Late
again
,
mother
,
”
he
said
.
“
The
young
should
sleep
,
”
she
answered
,
for
to
her
he
seemed
still
a
boy
.
She
had
finished
her
breakfast
some
time
before
the
young
man
,
and
because
it
would
have
appeared
very
wrong
to
her
to
leave
the
table
,
she
sat
on
knitting
behind
the
tea-urn
:
an
industry
the
benefit
of
which
was
felt
by
many
poor
children
—
almost
the
only
neighbours
she
had
a
good
word
for
.
“
Mother
,
”
said
the
young
man
,
presently
,
“
your
friend
the
locum
tenens
is
off
to-morrow
.
”
“
A
good
riddance
.
”
“
Why
are
you
so
hard
on
him
?
He
talked
intelligently
when
here
,
I
thought
,
”
answered
her
son
.
“
I
do
not
like
his
theology
,
”
she
replied
,
“
nor
his
way
of
running
about
and
flirting
with
this
body
and
that
body
,
nor
his
way
of
chattering
while
he
buttons
and
unbuttons
his
gloves
.
”
“
You
forget
he
is
a
man
of
the
great
world
,
and
has
about
him
a
manner
that
must
seem
strange
to
us
.
”
“
Oh
,
he
might
do
very
well
,
”
she
answered
,
“
for
one
of
those
Carton
girls
at
the
rectory
.
”
“
That
eldest
girl
is
a
good
girl
,
”
replied
her
son
.
“
She
looks
down
on
us
all
,
and
thinks
herself
intellectual
,
”
she
went
on
.
“
I
remember
when
girls
were
content
with
their
Catechism
and
their
Bibles
and
a
little
practice
at
the
piano
,
maybe
,
for
an
accomplishment
.
What
does
any
one
want
more
?
It
is
all
pride
.
”
“
You
used
to
like
her
as
a
child
,
”
said
the
young
man
.
“
I
like
all
children
.
”
Sherman
having
finished
his
breakfast
,
took
a
book
of
travels
in
one
hand
and
a
trowel
in
the
other
and
went
out
into
the
garden
.
Having
looked
under
the
parlour
window
for
the
first
tulip
shoots
,
he
went
down
to
the
further
end
and
began
covering
some
sea-kale
for
forcing
.
He
had
not
been
long
at
work
when
the
servant
brought
him
a
letter
.
There
was
a
stone
roller
at
one
side
of
the
grass
plot
.
He
sat
down
upon
it
,
and
taking
the
letter
between
his
finger
and
thumb
began
looking
at
it
with
an
air
that
said
:
“
Well
!
I
know
what
you
mean
.
”
He
remained
long
thus
without
opening
it
,
the
book
lying
beside
him
on
the
roller
.
The
garden
—
the
letter
—
the
book
!
You
have
there
the
three
symbols
of
his
life
.
Every
morning
he
worked
in
that
garden
among
the
sights
and
sounds
of
nature
.
Month
by
month
he
planted
and
hoed
and
dug
there
.
In
the
middle
he
had
set
a
hedge
that
divided
the
garden
in
two
.
Above
the
hedge
were
flowers
;
below
it
,
vegetables
.
At
the
furthest
end
from
the
house
,
lapping
broken
masonry
full
of
wallflowers
,
the
river
said
,
month
after
month
to
all
upon
its
banks
,
“
Hush
!
”
He
dined
at
two
with
perfect
regularity
,
and
in
the
afternoon
went
out
to
shoot
or
walk
.
At
twilight
he
set
night-lines
.
Later
on
he
read
.
He
had
not
many
books
—
a
Shakespeare
,
Mungo
Park’s
travels
,
a
few
two-shilling
novels
,
“
Percy’s
Reliques
,
”
and
a
volume
on
etiquette
.
He
seldom
varied
his
occupations
.
He
had
no
profession
.
The
town
talked
of
it
.
They
said
:
“
He
lives
upon
his
mother
,
”
and
were
very
angry
.
They
never
let
him
see
this
,
however
,
for
it
was
generally
understood
he
would
be
a
dangerous
fellow
to
rouse
;
but
there
was
an
uncle
from
whom
Sherman
had
expectations
who
sometimes
wrote
remonstrating
.
Mrs.
Sherman
resented
these
letters
,
for
she
was
afraid
of
her
son
going
away
to
seek
his
fortune
—
perhaps
even
in
America
.
Now
this
matter
preyed
somewhat
on
Sherman
.
For
three
years
or
so
he
had
been
trying
to
make
his
mind
up
and
come
to
some
decision
.
Sometimes
when
reading
he
would
start
and
press
his
lips
together
and
knit
his
brows
for
a
moment
.
It
will
now
be
seen
why
the
garden
,
the
book
,
and
the
letter
were
the
three
symbols
of
his
life
,
summing
up
as
they
did
his
love
of
out-of-door
doings
,
his
meditations
,
his
anxieties
.
His
life
in
the
garden
had
granted
serenity
to
his
forehead
,
the
reading
of
his
few
books
had
filled
his
eyes
with
reverie
,
and
the
feeling
that
he
was
not
quite
a
good
citizen
had
given
a
slight
and
occasional
trembling
to
his
lips
.
He
opened
the
letter
.
Its
contents
were
what
he
had
long
expected
.
His
uncle
offered
to
take
him
into
his
office
.
He
laid
it
spread
out
before
him
—
a
foot
on
each
margin
,
right
and
left
—
and
looked
at
it
,
turning
the
matter
over
and
over
in
his
mind
.
Would
he
go
?
would
he
stay
?
He
did
not
like
the
idea
much
.
The
lounger
in
him
did
not
enjoy
the
thought
of
London
.
Gradually
his
mind
wandered
away
into
scheming
—
infinite
scheming
—
what
he
would
do
if
he
went
,
what
he
would
do
if
he
did
not
go
.
A
beetle
,
attracted
by
the
faint
sunlight
,
had
crawled
out
of
his
hole
.
It
saw
the
paper
and
crept
on
to
it
,
the
better
to
catch
the
sunlight
.
Sherman
saw
the
beetle
but
his
mind
was
not
occupied
with
it
.
“
Shall
I
tell
Mary
Carton
?
”
he
was
thinking
.
Mary
had
long
been
his
adviser
and
friend
.
She
was
,
indeed
,
everybody’s
adviser
.
Yes
,
he
would
ask
her
what
to
do
.
Then
again
he
thought
—
no
,
he
would
decide
for
himself
.
The
beetle
began
to
move
.
“
If
it
goes
off
the
paper
by
the
top
I
will
ask
her
—
if
by
the
bottom
I
will
not
.
”
The
beetle
went
off
by
the
top
.
He
got
up
with
an
air
of
decision
and
went
into
the
tool-house
and
began
sorting
seeds
and
picking
out
the
light
ones
,
sometimes
stopping
to
watch
a
spider
;
for
he
knew
he
must
wait
till
the
afternoon
to
see
Mary
Carton
.
The
tool-house
was
a
favourite
place
with
him
.
He
often
read
there
and
watched
the
spiders
in
the
corners
.
At
dinner
he
was
preoccupied
.
“
Mother
,
”
he
said
,
“
would
you
much
mind
if
we
went
away
from
this
?
”
“
I
have
often
told
you
,
”
she
answered
,
“
I
do
not
like
one
place
better
than
another
.
I
like
them
all
equally
little
.
”
After
dinner
he
went
again
into
the
tool-house
.
This
time
he
did
not
sort
seeds
—
only
watched
the
spiders
.
III
.
Towards
evening
he
went
out
.
The
pale
sunshine
of
winter
flickered
on
his
path
.
The
wind
blew
the
straws
about
.
He
grew
more
and
more
melancholy
.
A
dog
of
his
acquaintance
was
chasing
rabbits
in
a
field
.
He
had
never
been
known
to
catch
one
,
and
since
his
youth
had
never
seen
one
for
he
was
almost
wholly
blind
.
They
were
his
form
of
the
eternal
chimera
.
The
dog
left
the
field
and
followed
with
a
friendly
sniff
.
They
came
together
to
the
rectory
.
Mary
Carton
was
not
in
.
There
was
a
children’s
practice
in
the
school-house
.
They
went
thither
.
A
child
of
four
or
five
with
a
swelling
on
its
face
was
sitting
under
a
wall
opposite
the
school
door
,
waiting
to
make
faces
at
the
Protestant
children
as
they
came
out
.
Catching
sight
of
the
dog
she
seemed
to
debate
in
her
mind
whether
to
throw
a
stone
at
it
or
call
it
to
her
.
She
threw
the
stone
and
made
it
run
.
In
after
times
he
remembered
all
these
things
as
though
they
were
of
importance
.
He
opened
the
latched
green
door
and
went
in
.
About
twenty
children
were
singing
in
shrill
voices
standing
in
a
row
at
the
further
end
.
At
the
harmonium
he
recognized
Mary
Carton
,
who
nodded
to
him
and
went
on
with
her
playing
.
The
white-washed
walls
were
covered
with
glazed
prints
of
animals
;
at
the
further
end
was
a
large
map
of
Europe
;
by
a
fire
at
the
near
end
was
a
table
with
the
remains
of
tea
.
This
tea
was
an
idea
of
Mary’s
.
They
had
tea
and
cake
first
,
afterwards
the
singing
.
The
floor
was
covered
with
crumbs
.
The
fire
was
burning
brightly
.
Sherman
sat
down
beside
it
.
A
child
with
a
great
deal
of
oil
in
her
hair
was
sitting
on
the
end
of
a
form
at
the
other
side
.
“
Look
,
”
she
whispered
,
“
I
have
been
sent
away
.
At
any
rate
they
are
further
from
the
fire
.
They
have
to
be
near
the
harmonium
.
I
would
not
sing
.
Do
you
like
hymns
?
I
don’t
.
Will
you
have
a
cup
of
tea
?
I
can
make
it
quite
well
.
See
,
I
did
not
spill
a
drop
.
Have
you
enough
milk
?
”
It
was
a
cup
full
of
milk
—
children’s
tea
.
“
Look
,
there
is
a
mouse
carrying
away
a
crumb
.
Hush
!
”
They
sat
there
,
the
child
watching
the
mouse
,
Sherman
pondering
on
his
letter
,
until
the
music
ceased
and
the
children
came
tramping
down
the
room
.
The
mouse
having
fled
,
Sherman’s
self-appointed
hostess
got
up
with
a
sigh
and
went
out
with
the
others
.
Mary
Carton
closed
the
harmonium
and
came
towards
Sherman
.
Her
face
and
all
her
movements
showed
a
gentle
decision
of
character
.
Her
glance
was
serene
,
her
features
regular
,
her
figure
at
the
same
time
ample
and
beautifully
moulded
;
her
dress
plain
yet
not
without
a
certain
air
of
distinction
.
In
a
different
society
she
would
have
had
many
suitors
.
But
she
was
of
a
type
that
in
country
towns
does
not
get
married
at
all
.
Its
beauty
is
too
lacking
in
pink
and
white
,
its
nature
in
that
small
assertiveness
admired
for
character
by
the
uninstructed
.
Elsewhere
she
would
have
known
her
own
beauty
—
as
it
is
right
that
all
the
beautiful
should
—
and
have
learnt
how
to
display
it
,
to
add
gesture
to
her
calm
and
more
of
mirth
and
smiles
to
her
grave
cheerfulness
.
As
it
was
,
her
manner
was
much
older
than
herself
.
She
sat
down
by
Sherman
with
the
air
of
an
old
friend
.
They
had
long
been
accustomed
to
consult
together
on
every
matter
.
They
were
such
good
friends
they
had
never
fallen
in
love
with
each
other
.
Perfect
love
and
perfect
friendship
are
indeed
incompatible
;
for
the
one
is
a
battlefield
where
shadows
war
beside
the
combatants
,
and
the
other
a
placid
country
where
Consultation
has
her
dwelling
.
These
two
were
such
good
friends
that
the
most
gossiping
townspeople
had
given
them
up
with
a
sigh
.
The
doctor’s
wife
,
a
faded
beauty
and
devoted
romance
reader
,
said
one
day
,
as
they
passed
,
“
They
are
such
cold
creatures
.
”
The
old
maid
who
kept
the
Berlin-wool
shop
remarked
,
“
They
are
not
of
the
marrying
sort
,
”
and
now
their
comings
and
goings
were
no
longer
noticed
.
Nothing
had
ever
come
to
break
in
on
their
quiet
companionship
and
give
obscurity
as
a
dwelling-place
for
the
needed
illusions
.
Had
one
been
weak
and
the
other
strong
,
one
plain
and
the
other
handsome
,
one
guide
and
the
other
guided
,
one
wise
and
the
other
foolish
,
love
might
have
found
them
out
in
a
moment
,
for
love
is
based
on
inequality
as
friendship
is
on
equality
.
“
John
,
”
said
Mary
Carton
,
warming
her
hands
at
the
fire
,
“
I
have
had
a
troublesome
day
.
Did
you
come
to
help
me
teach
the
children
to
sing
?
It
was
good
of
you
:
you
were
just
too
late
.
”
“
No
,
”
he
answered
,
“
I
have
come
to
be
your
pupil
.
I
am
always
your
pupil
.
”
“
Yes
,
and
a
most
disobedient
one
.
”
“
Well
,
advise
me
this
time
at
any
rate
.
My
uncle
has
written
,
offering
me
£
100
a
year
to
begin
with
in
his
London
office
.
Am
I
to
go
?
”
“
You
know
quite
well
my
answer
,
”
she
said
.
“
Indeed
I
do
not
.
Why
should
I
go
?
I
am
contented
here
.
I
am
now
making
my
garden
ready
for
spring
.
Later
on
there
will
be
trout
fishing
and
saunters
by
the
edge
of
the
river
in
the
evening
when
the
bats
are
flickering
about
.
In
July
there
will
be
races
.
I
enjoy
the
bustle
.
I
enjoy
life
here
.
When
anything
annoys
me
I
keep
away
from
it
,
that
is
all
.
You
know
I
am
always
busy
.
I
have
occupation
and
friends
and
am
quite
contented
.
”
“
It
is
a
great
loss
to
many
of
us
,
but
you
must
go
,
John
,
”
she
said
.
“
For
you
know
you
will
be
old
some
day
,
and
perhaps
when
the
vitality
of
youth
is
gone
you
will
feel
that
your
life
is
empty
and
find
that
you
are
too
old
to
change
it
;
and
you
will
give
up
,
perhaps
,
trying
to
be
happy
and
likeable
and
become
as
the
rest
are
.
I
think
I
can
see
you
,
”
she
said
,
with
a
laugh
,
“
a
hypochondriac
,
like
Gorman
,
the
retired
excise
officer
,
or
with
a
red
nose
like
Dr.
Stephens
,
or
growing
like
Peters
,
the
elderly
cattle
merchant
,
who
starves
his
horse
.
”
“
They
were
bad
material
to
begin
with
,
”
he
answered
,
“
and
besides
,
I
cannot
take
my
mother
away
with
me
at
her
age
,
and
I
cannot
leave
her
alone
.
”
“
What
annoyance
it
may
be
,
”
she
answered
,
“
will
soon
be
forgotten
.
You
will
be
able
to
give
her
many
more
comforts
.
We
women
—
we
all
like
to
be
dressed
well
and
have
pleasant
rooms
to
sit
in
,
and
a
young
man
at
your
age
should
not
be
idle
.
You
must
go
away
from
this
little
backward
place
.
We
shall
miss
you
,
but
you
are
clever
and
must
go
and
work
with
other
men
and
have
your
talents
admitted
.
”
“
How
emulous
you
would
have
me
.
Perhaps
I
shall
be
well-to-do
some
day
;
meanwhile
I
only
wish
to
stay
here
with
my
friends
.
”
She
went
over
to
the
window
and
looked
out
with
her
face
turned
from
him
.
The
evening
light
cast
a
long
shadow
behind
her
on
the
floor
.
After
some
moments
,
she
said
,
“
I
see
people
ploughing
on
the
slope
of
the
hill
.
There
are
people
working
on
a
house
to
the
right
.
Everywhere
there
are
people
busy
,
”
and
,
with
a
slight
tremble
in
her
voice
,
she
added
,
“
and
,
John
,
nowhere
are
there
any
doing
what
they
wish
.
One
has
to
think
of
so
many
things
—
of
duty
and
God
.
”
“
Mary
,
I
didn’t
know
you
were
so
religious
.
”
Coming
towards
him
with
a
smile
,
she
said
,
“
No
more
did
I
,
perhaps
.
But
sometimes
the
self
in
one
is
very
strong
.
One
has
to
think
a
great
deal
and
reason
with
it
.
Yet
I
try
hard
to
lose
myself
in
things
about
me
.
These
children
now
—
I
often
lie
awake
thinking
about
them
.
That
child
who
was
talking
to
you
is
often
on
my
mind
.
I
do
not
know
what
will
happen
to
her
.
She
makes
me
unhappy
.
I
am
afraid
she
is
not
a
good
child
at
all
.
I
am
afraid
she
is
not
taught
well
at
home
.
I
try
hard
to
be
gentle
and
patient
with
her
.
I
am
a
little
displeased
with
myself
to-day
;
so
I
have
lectured
you
.
There
!
I
have
made
my
confession
.
But
,
”
she
added
,
taking
one
of
his
hands
in
both
hers
and
reddening
,
“
you
must
go
away
.
You
must
not
be
idle
.
You
will
gain
everything
.
”
As
she
stood
there
with
bright
eyes
,
the
light
of
evening
about
her
,
Sherman
for
perhaps
the
first
time
saw
how
beautiful
she
was
,
and
was
flattered
by
her
interest
.
For
the
first
time
also
her
presence
did
not
make
him
at
peace
with
the
world
.
“
Will
you
be
an
obedient
pupil
?
”
“
You
know
so
much
more
than
I
do
,
”
he
answered
,
“
and
are
so
much
wiser
.
I
will
write
to
my
uncle
and
agree
to
his
offer
.
”
“
Now
you
must
go
home
,
”
she
said
.
“
You
must
not
keep
your
mother
waiting
for
her
tea
.
There
!
I
have
raked
the
fire
out
.
We
must
not
forget
to
lock
the
door
behind
us
.
”
As
they
stood
on
the
doorstep
the
wind
blew
a
whirl
of
dead
leaves
about
them
.
“
They
are
my
old
thoughts
,
”
he
said
;
“
see
,
they
are
all
withered
.
”
They
walked
together
silently
.
At
the
vicarage
he
left
her
and
went
homeward
.
The
deserted
flour
store
at
the
corner
of
two
roads
,
the
house
that
had
been
burnt
hollow
ten
years
before
and
still
lifted
its
blackened
beams
,
the
straggling
and
leafless
fruit-trees
rising
above
garden
walls
,
the
church
where
he
was
christened
—
these
foster-mothers
of
his
infancy
seemed
to
nod
and
shake
their
heads
over
him
.
“
Mother
,
”
he
said
,
hurriedly
entering
the
room
,
“
we
are
going
to
London
.
”
“
As
you
wish
.
I
always
knew
you
would
be
a
rolling
stone
,
”
she
answered
,
and
went
out
to
tell
the
servant
that
as
soon
as
she
had
finished
the
week’s
washing
they
must
pack
up
everything
,
for
they
were
going
to
London
.
“
Yes
,
we
must
pack
up
,
”
said
the
old
peasant
;
she
did
not
stop
peeling
the
onion
in
her
hand
—
she
had
not
comprehended
.
In
the
middle
of
the
night
she
suddenly
started
up
in
bed
with
a
pale
face
and
a
prayer
to
the
Virgin
whose
image
hung
over
her
head
—
she
had
now
comprehended
.
IV
.
On
January
the
5th
about
two
in
the
afternoon
,
Sherman
sat
on
the
deck
of
the
steamer
Lavinia
enjoying
a
period
of
sunshine
between
two
showers
.
The
steamer
Lavinia
was
a
cattle
boat
.
It
had
been
his
wish
to
travel
by
some
more
expensive
route
,
but
his
mother
,
with
her
old-fashioned
ideas
of
duty
,
would
not
hear
of
it
,
and
now
,
as
he
foresaw
,
was
extremely
uncomfortable
below
,
while
he
,
who
was
a
good
sailor
,
was
pretty
happy
on
deck
,
and
would
have
been
quite
so
if
the
pigs
would
only
tire
of
their
continual
squealing
.
With
the
exception
of
a
very
dirty
old
woman
sitting
by
a
crate
of
geese
,
all
the
passengers
but
himself
were
below
.
This
old
woman
made
the
journey
monthly
with
geese
for
the
Liverpool
market
.
Sherman
was
dreaming
.
He
began
to
feel
very
desolate
,
and
commenced
a
letter
to
Mary
Carton
in
his
notebook
to
state
this
fact
.
He
was
a
laborious
and
unpractised
writer
,
and
found
it
helped
him
to
make
a
pencil
copy
.
Sometimes
he
stopped
and
watched
the
puffin
sleeping
on
the
waves
.
Each
one
of
them
had
its
head
tucked
in
in
a
somewhat
different
way
.
“
That
is
because
their
characters
are
different
,
”
he
thought
.
Gradually
he
began
to
notice
a
great
many
corks
floating
by
,
one
after
the
other
.
The
old
woman
saw
them
too
,
and
said
,
waking
out
of
a
half
sleep
—
“
Misther
John
Sherman
,
we
will
be
in
the
Mersey
before
evening
.
Why
are
ye
goin’
among
them
savages
in
London
,
Misther
John
?
Why
don’t
ye
stay
among
your
own
people
—
for
what
have
we
in
this
life
but
a
mouthful
of
air
?
”
PART
II
.
MARGARET
LELAND
.
I
.
Sherman
and
his
mother
rented
a
small
house
on
the
north
side
of
St.
Peter’s
Square
,
Hammersmith
.
The
front
windows
looked
out
on
to
the
old
rank
and
green
square
,
the
windows
behind
on
to
a
little
patch
of
garden
round
which
the
houses
gathered
and
pressed
as
though
they
already
longed
to
trample
it
out
.
In
this
garden
was
a
single
tall
pear-tree
that
never
bore
fruit
.
Three
years
passed
by
without
any
notable
event
.
Sherman
went
every
day
to
his
office
in
Tower
Hill
Street
,
abused
his
work
a
great
deal
,
and
was
not
unhappy
perhaps
.
He
was
probably
a
bad
clerk
,
but
then
nobody
was
very
exacting
with
the
nephew
of
the
head
of
the
firm
.
The
firm
of
Sherman
and
Saunders
,
ship
brokers
,
was
a
long-established
,
old-fashioned
house
.
Saunders
had
been
dead
some
years
and
old
Michael
Sherman
ruled
alone
—
an
old
bachelor
full
of
family
pride
and
pride
in
his
wealth
.
He
lived
,
for
all
that
,
in
a
very
simple
fashion
.
His
mahogany
furniture
was
a
little
solider
than
other
people’s
perhaps
.
He
did
not
understand
display
.
Display
finds
its
excuse
in
some
taste
good
or
bad
,
and
in
a
long
industrious
life
Michael
Sherman
had
never
found
leisure
to
form
one
.
He
seemed
to
live
only
from
habit
.
Year
by
year
he
grew
more
silent
,
gradually
ceasing
to
regard
anything
but
his
family
and
his
ships
.
His
family
were
represented
by
his
nephew
and
his
nephew’s
mother
.
He
did
not
feel
much
affection
for
them
.
He
believed
in
his
family
—
that
was
all
.
To
remind
him
of
the
other
goal
of
his
thoughts
hung
round
his
private
office
pictures
with
such
inscriptions
as
“
S.S.
Indus
at
the
Cape
of
Good
Hope
,
”
“
The
barque
Mary
in
the
Mozambique
Channel
,
”
“
The
barque
Livingstone
at
Port
Said
,
”
and
many
more
.
Every
rope
was
drawn
accurately
with
a
ruler
,
and
here
and
there
were
added
distant
vessels
sailing
proudly
by
with
all
that
indifference
to
perspective
peculiar
to
the
drawings
of
sailors
.
On
every
ship
was
the
flag
of
the
firm
spread
out
to
show
the
letters
.
No
man
cared
for
old
Michael
Sherman
.
Every
one
liked
John
.
Both
were
silent
,
but
the
young
man
had
sometimes
a
talkative
fit
.
The
old
man
lived
for
his
ledger
,
the
young
man
for
his
dreams
.
In
spite
of
all
these
differences
,
the
uncle
was
on
the
whole
pleased
with
the
nephew
.
He
noticed
a
certain
stolidity
that
was
of
the
family
.
It
sometimes
irritated
others
.
It
pleased
him
.
He
saw
a
hundred
indications
besides
that
made
him
say
,
“
He
is
a
true
Sherman
.
We
Shermans
begin
that
way
and
give
up
frivolity
as
we
grow
old
.
We
are
all
the
same
in
the
end
.
”
Mrs.
Sherman
and
her
son
had
but
a
small
round
of
acquaintances
—
a
few
rich
people
,
clients
of
the
house
of
Sherman
and
Saunders
for
the
most
part
.
Among
these
was
a
Miss
Margaret
Leland
who
lived
with
her
mother
,
the
widow
of
the
late
Henry
Leland
,
ship-broker
,
on
the
eastern
side
of
St.
Peter’s
Square
.
Their
house
was
larger
than
the
Shermans
,
and
noticeable
among
its
fellows
by
the
newly-painted
hall
door
.
Within
on
every
side
were
bronzes
and
china
vases
and
heavy
curtains
.
In
all
were
displayed
the
curious
and
vagrant
taste
of
Margaret
Leland
.
The
rich
Italian
and
mediæval
draperies
of
the
pre-Raphaelites
jostling
the
brightest
and
vulgarest
products
of
more
native
and
Saxon
schools
.
Vases
of
the
most
artistic
shape
and
colour
side
by
side
with
artificial
flowers
and
stuffed
birds
.
This
house
belonged
to
the
Lelands
.
They
had
bought
it
in
less
prosperous
days
,
and
having
altered
it
according
to
their
taste
and
the
need
of
their
growing
welfare
could
not
decide
to
leave
it
.
Sherman
was
an
occasional
caller
at
the
Lelands
,
and
had
certainly
a
liking
,
though
not
a
very
deep
one
,
for
Margaret
.
As
yet
he
knew
little
more
about
her
than
that
she
wore
the
most
fascinating
hats
,
that
the
late
Lord
Lytton
was
her
favourite
author
,
and
that
she
hated
frogs
.
It
is
clear
that
she
did
not
know
that
a
French
writer
on
magic
says
the
luxurious
and
extravagant
hate
frogs
because
they
are
cold
,
solitary
,
and
dreary
.
Had
she
done
so
,
she
would
have
been
more
circumspect
about
revealing
her
tastes
.
For
the
rest
John
Sherman
was
forgetting
the
town
of
Ballah
.
He
corresponded
indeed
with
Mary
Carton
,
but
his
laborious
letter
writing
made
his
letters
fewer
and
fewer
.
Sometimes
,
too
,
he
heard
from
Howard
,
who
had
a
curacy
in
Glasgow
and
was
on
indifferent
terms
with
his
parishioners
.
They
objected
to
his
way
of
conducting
the
services
.
His
letters
were
full
of
it
.
He
would
not
give
in
,
he
said
,
whatever
happened
.
His
conscience
was
involved
.
II
.
One
afternoon
Mrs.
Leland
called
on
Mrs.
Sherman
.
She
very
often
called
—
this
fat
,
sentimental
woman
,
moving
in
the
midst
of
a
cloud
of
scent
.
The
day
was
warm
,
and
she
carried
her
too
elaborate
and
heavy
dress
as
a
large
caddis-fly
drags
its
case
with
much
labour
and
patience
.
She
sat
down
on
the
sofa
with
obvious
relief
,
leaning
so
heavily
among
the
cushions
that
a
clothes-moth
in
an
antimacassar
thought
the
end
of
the
world
had
come
and
fluttered
out
only
to
be
knocked
down
and
crushed
by
Mrs.
Sherman
,
who
was
very
quick
in
her
movements
.
As
soon
as
she
found
her
breath
,
Mrs.
Leland
began
a
long
history
of
her
sorrows
.
Her
daughter
Margaret
,
had
been
jilted
and
was
in
despair
,
had
taken
to
her
bed
with
every
resolution
to
die
,
and
was
growing
paler
and
paler
.
The
hard-hearted
man
,
though
she
knew
he
had
heard
,
did
not
relent
.
She
knew
he
had
heard
because
her
daughter
had
told
his
sister
all
about
it
,
and
his
sister
had
no
heart
,
because
she
said
it
was
temper
that
ailed
Margaret
,
and
she
was
a
little
vixen
,
and
that
if
she
had
not
flirted
with
everybody
the
engagement
would
never
have
been
broken
off
.
But
Mr.
Sims
had
no
heart
clearly
,
as
Miss
Marriot
and
Mrs.
Eliza
Taylor
,
her
daughter’s
friends
,
said
,
when
they
heard
,
and
Lock
,
the
butler
,
said
the
same
too
,
and
Mary
Young
,
the
housemaid
,
said
so
too
—
and
she
knew
all
about
it
,
for
Margaret
used
to
read
his
letters
to
her
often
when
having
her
hair
brushed
.
“
She
must
have
been
very
fond
of
him
,
”
said
Mrs.
Sherman
.
“
She
is
so
romantic
,
my
dear
,
”
answered
Mrs.
Leland
,
with
a
sigh
.
“
I
am
afraid
she
takes
after
an
uncle
on
her
father’s
side
,
who
wrote
poetry
and
wore
a
velvet
jacket
and
ran
away
with
an
Italian
countess
who
used
to
get
drunk
.
When
I
married
Mr.
Leland
people
said
he
was
not
worthy
of
me
,
and
that
I
was
throwing
myself
away
—
and
he
in
business
,
too
!
But
Margaret
is
so
romantic
.
There
was
Mr.
Walters
,
the
gentleman
farmer
,
and
Simpson
who
had
a
jeweller’s
shop
—
I
never
approved
of
him
!
—
and
Mr.
Samuelson
,
and
the
Hon.
William
Scott
.
She
tired
of
them
all
except
the
Hon.
William
Scott
,
who
tired
of
her
because
some
one
told
him
she
put
belladonna
in
her
eyes
—
and
it
is
not
true
;
and
now
there
is
Mr.
Sims
!
”
She
then
cried
a
little
,
and
allowed
herself
to
be
consoled
by
Mrs.
Sherman
.
“
You
talk
so
intelligently
and
are
so
well
informed
,
”
she
said
at
parting
.
“
I
have
made
a
very
pleasant
call
,
”
and
the
caddis-worm
toiled
upon
its
way
,
arriving
in
due
course
at
other
cups
of
tea
.
III
.
The
day
after
Mrs.
Leland’s
call
upon
his
mother
,
John
Sherman
,
returning
home
after
his
not
very
lengthy
day
in
the
office
,
saw
Margaret
coming
towards
him
.
She
had
a
lawn
tennis
racket
under
her
arm
,
and
was
walking
slowly
on
the
shady
side
of
the
road
.
She
was
a
pretty
girl
with
quite
irregular
features
,
who
though
really
not
more
than
pretty
,
had
so
much
manner
,
so
much
of
an
air
,
that
every
one
called
her
a
beauty
:
a
trefoil
with
the
fragrance
of
a
rose
.
“
Mr.
Sherman
,
”
she
cried
,
coming
smiling
to
meet
him
,
“
I
have
been
ill
,
but
could
not
stand
the
house
any
longer
.
I
am
going
to
the
Square
to
play
tennis
.
Will
you
come
with
me
?
”
“
I
am
a
bad
player
,
”
he
said
.
“
Of
course
you
are
,
”
she
answered
;
“
but
you
are
the
only
person
under
a
hundred
to
be
found
this
afternoon
.
How
dull
life
is
!
”
she
continued
,
with
a
sigh
.
“
You
heard
how
ill
I
have
been
?
What
do
you
do
all
day
?
”
“
I
sit
at
a
desk
,
sometimes
writing
,
and
sometimes
,
when
I
get
lazy
,
looking
up
at
the
flies
.
There
are
fourteen
on
the
plaster
of
the
ceiling
over
my
head
.
They
died
two
winters
ago
.
I
sometimes
think
to
have
them
brushed
off
,
but
they
have
been
there
so
long
now
I
hardly
like
to
.
”
“
Ah
!
you
like
them
,
”
she
said
,
“
because
you
are
accustomed
to
them
.
In
most
cases
there
is
not
much
more
to
be
said
for
our
family
affections
,
I
think
.
”
“
In
a
room
close
at
hand
,
”
he
went
on
,
“
there
is
,
you
know
,
Uncle
Michael
,
who
never
speaks
.
”
“
Precisely
.
You
have
an
uncle
who
never
speaks
;
I
have
a
mother
who
never
is
silent
.
She
went
to
see
Mrs.
Sherman
the
other
day
.
What
did
she
say
to
her
?
”
“
Nothing
.
”
“
Really
.
What
a
dull
thing
existence
is
!
”
—
this
with
a
great
sigh
.
“
When
the
Fates
are
weaving
our
web
of
life
some
mischievous
goblin
always
runs
off
with
the
dye-pot
.
Everything
is
dull
and
grey
.
Am
I
looking
a
little
pale
?
I
have
been
so
very
ill.
”
“
A
little
bit
pale
,
perhaps
,
”
he
said
,
doubtfully
.
The
Square
gate
brought
them
to
a
stop
.
It
was
locked
,
but
she
had
the
key
.
The
lock
was
stiff
,
but
turned
easily
for
John
Sherman
.
“
How
strong
you
are
,
”
she
said
.
It
was
an
iridescent
evening
of
spring
.
The
leaves
of
the
bushes
had
still
their
faint
green
.
As
Margaret
darted
about
at
the
tennis
,
a
red
feather
in
her
cap
seemed
to
rejoice
with
its
wearer
.
Everything
was
at
once
gay
and
tranquil
.
The
whole
world
had
that
unreal
air
it
assumes
at
beautiful
moments
,
as
though
it
might
vanish
at
a
touch
like
an
iridescent
soap-bubble
.
After
a
little
Margaret
said
she
was
tired
,
and
,
sitting
on
a
garden
seat
among
the
bushes
,
began
telling
him
the
plots
of
novels
lately
read
by
her
.
Suddenly
she
cried
—
“
The
novel-writers
were
all
serious
people
like
you
.
They
are
so
hard
on
people
like
me
.
They
always
make
us
come
to
a
bad
end
.
They
say
we
are
always
acting
,
acting
,
acting
;
and
what
else
do
you
serious
people
do
?
You
act
before
the
world
.
I
think
,
do
you
know
,
we
act
before
ourselves
.
All
the
old
foolish
kings
and
queens
in
history
were
like
us
.
They
laughed
and
beckoned
and
went
to
the
block
for
no
very
good
purpose
.
I
dare
say
the
headsmen
were
like
you
.
”
“
We
would
never
cut
off
so
pretty
a
head
.
”
“
Oh
,
yes
,
you
would
—
you
would
cut
off
mine
to-morrow
.
”
All
this
she
said
vehemently
,
piercing
him
with
her
bright
eyes
.
“
You
would
cut
off
my
head
to-morrow
,
”
she
repeated
,
almost
fiercely
;
“
I
tell
you
you
would
.
”
Her
departure
was
always
unexpected
,
her
moods
changed
with
so
much
rapidity
.
“
Look
!
”
she
said
,
pointing
where
the
clock
on
St.
Peter’s
church
showed
above
the
bushes
.
“
Five
minutes
to
five
.
In
five
minutes
my
mother’s
tea-hour
.
It
is
like
growing
old
.
I
go
to
gossip
.
Good-bye
.
”
The
red
feather
shone
for
a
moment
among
the
bushes
and
was
gone
.
IV
.
The
next
day
and
the
day
after
,
Sherman
was
followed
by
those
bright
eyes
.
When
he
opened
a
letter
at
his
desk
they
seemed
to
gaze
at
him
from
the
open
paper
,
and
to
watch
him
from
the
flies
upon
the
ceiling
.
He
was
even
a
worse
clerk
than
usual
.
One
evening
he
said
to
his
mother
,
“
Miss
Leland
has
beautiful
eyes
.
”
“
My
dear
,
she
puts
belladonna
in
them
.
”
“
What
a
thing
to
say
!
”
“
I
know
she
does
,
though
her
mother
denies
it
.
”
“
Well
,
she
is
certainly
beautiful
,
”
he
answered
.
“
My
dear
,
if
she
has
an
attraction
for
you
,
I
don’t
want
to
discourage
it
.
She
is
rich
as
girls
go
nowadays
;
and
one
woman
has
one
fault
,
another
another
:
one’s
untidy
,
one
fights
with
her
servants
,
one
fights
with
her
friends
,
another
has
a
crabbed
tongue
when
she
talks
of
them
.
”
Sherman
became
again
silent
,
finding
no
fragment
of
romance
in
such
discourse
.
In
the
next
week
or
two
he
saw
much
of
Miss
Leland
.
He
met
her
almost
every
evening
on
his
return
from
the
office
,
walking
slowly
,
her
racket
under
her
arm
.
They
played
tennis
much
and
talked
more
.
Sherman
began
to
play
tennis
in
his
dreams
.
Miss
Leland
told
him
all
about
herself
,
her
friends
,
her
inmost
feelings
;
and
yet
every
day
he
knew
less
about
her
.
It
was
not
merely
that
saying
everything
she
said
nothing
,
but
that
continually
there
came
through
her
wild
words
the
sound
of
the
mysterious
flutes
and
viols
of
that
unconscious
nature
which
dwells
so
much
nearer
to
woman
than
to
man
.
How
often
do
we
not
endow
the
beautiful
and
candid
with
depth
and
mystery
not
their
own
?
We
do
not
know
that
we
but
hear
in
their
voices
those
flutes
and
viols
playing
to
us
of
the
alluring
secret
of
the
world
.
Sherman
had
never
known
in
early
life
what
is
called
first
love
,
and
now
,
when
he
had
passed
thirty
,
it
came
to
him
that
love
more
of
the
imagination
than
of
either
the
senses
or
affections
:
it
was
mainly
the
eyes
that
followed
him
.
It
is
not
to
be
denied
that
as
this
love
grew
serious
it
grew
mercenary
.
Now
active
,
now
latent
,
the
notion
had
long
been
in
Sherman’s
mind
,
as
we
know
,
that
he
should
marry
money
.
A
born
lounger
,
riches
tempted
him
greatly
.
When
those
eyes
haunted
him
from
the
fourteen
flies
on
the
ceiling
,
he
would
say
,
“
I
should
be
rich
;
I
should
have
a
house
in
the
country
;
I
should
hunt
and
shoot
,
and
have
a
garden
and
three
gardeners
;
I
should
leave
this
abominable
office
.
”
Then
the
eyes
became
even
more
beautiful
.
It
was
a
new
kind
of
belladonna
.
He
shrank
a
little
,
however
,
from
choosing
even
this
pleasant
pathway
.
He
had
planned
many
futures
for
himself
and
learnt
to
love
them
all
.
It
was
this
that
had
made
him
linger
on
at
Ballah
for
so
long
,
and
it
was
this
that
now
kept
him
undecided
.
He
would
have
to
give
up
the
universe
for
a
garden
and
three
gardeners
.
How
sad
it
was
to
make
substantial
even
the
best
of
his
dreams
.
How
hard
it
was
to
submit
to
that
decree
which
compels
every
step
we
take
in
life
to
be
a
death
in
the
imagination
.
How
difficult
it
was
to
be
so
enwrapped
in
this
one
new
hope
as
not
to
hear
the
lamentations
that
were
going
on
in
dim
corners
of
his
mind
.
One
day
he
resolved
to
propose
.
He
examined
himself
in
the
glass
in
the
morning
;
and
for
the
first
time
in
his
life
smiled
to
see
how
good-looking
he
was
.
In
the
evening
before
leaving
the
office
he
peered
at
himself
in
the
mirror
over
the
mantlepiece
in
the
room
where
customers
were
received
.
The
sun
was
blazing
through
the
window
full
on
his
face
.
He
did
not
look
so
well
.
Immediately
all
courage
left
him
.
That
evening
he
went
out
after
his
mother
had
gone
to
bed
and
walked
far
along
the
towing-path
of
the
Thames
.
A
faint
mist
half
covered
away
the
houses
and
factory
chimneys
on
the
further
side
;
beside
him
a
band
of
osiers
swayed
softly
,
the
deserted
and
full
river
lapping
their
stems
.
He
looked
on
all
these
things
with
foreign
eyes
.
He
had
no
sense
of
possession
.
Indeed
it
seemed
to
him
that
everything
in
London
was
owned
by
too
many
to
be
owned
by
any
one
.
Another
river
that
he
did
seem
to
possess
flowed
through
his
memory
with
all
its
familiar
sights
—
boys
riding
in
the
stream
to
the
saddle-girths
,
fish
leaping
,
water-flies
raising
their
small
ripples
,
a
swan
asleep
,
the
wallflowers
growing
on
the
red
brick
of
the
margin
.
He
grew
very
sad
.
Suddenly
a
shooting
star
,
fiery
and
vagabond
,
leaped
from
the
darkness
.
It
brought
his
mind
again
in
a
moment
to
Margaret
Leland
.
To
marry
her
,
he
thought
,
was
to
separate
himself
from
the
old
life
he
loved
so
well
.
Crossing
the
river
at
Putney
,
he
hurried
homewards
among
the
market
gardens
.
Nearing
home
,
the
streets
were
deserted
,
the
shops
closed
.
Where
King
Street
joins
the
Broadway
,
entirely
alone
with
itself
,
in
the
very
centre
of
the
road
a
little
black
cat
was
leaping
after
its
shadow
.
“
Ah
!
”
he
thought
,
“
it
would
be
a
good
thing
to
be
a
little
black
cat
.
To
leap
about
in
the
moonlight
and
sleep
in
the
sunlight
,
and
catch
flies
,
to
have
no
hard
tasks
to
do
or
hard
decisions
to
come
to
,
to
be
simple
and
full
of
animal
spirits
.
”
At
the
corner
of
Bridge
Road
was
a
coffee-stall
,
the
only
sign
of
human
life
.
He
bought
some
cold
meat
and
flung
it
to
the
little
black
cat
.
V.
Some
more
days
went
by
.
At
last
,
one
day
,
arriving
at
the
Square
somewhat
earlier
than
usual
,
and
sitting
