,no
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘Just
pick
out
the
best
bits
—
a
page
here
,
and
a
page
there.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘I
will
,
at
any
rate
,
start
with
the
beginning
.
Now
,
are
all
of
us
ready
to
be
let
into
the
secrets
of
a
young
lady’s
soul
?
—
‘
“
One
often
feels
a
longing
—
who
has
not
felt
it
?
—
in
the
hurry
and
trouble
of
life
to
pause
for
a
little
while
and
look
back
upon
the
past
,
which
we
too
too
often
forget
,
and
see
what
it
is
we
have
grown
from
.
We
long
to
see
how
it
has
fared
with
ourselves
—
our
own
selves
—
our
characters
.
”
’
‘I
think
you
may
skip
the
beginning
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘it’s
a
little
dull
.
Turn
over
a
page
or
two.’
‘
“
How
strangely
do
they
come
back
to
me
,
those
distant
irrevocable
days
!
”
Will
that
do
?
’
asked
Laurence
.
‘Yes
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘I
think
so
—
go
on
there.’
‘
“
—
those
distant
irrevocable
days
,
when
the
world
was
all
new
to
me
,
and
each
experience
was
fresh
and
delightful
,
and
I
knew
nothing
of
what
self-reproach
could
mean
.
Ah
,
me
!
how
times
have
changed
since
then
!
I
sometimes
fancy
that
I
am
hardly
worthy
now
to
look
back
upon
my
own
past
.
I
was
gifted
naturally
with
a
curious
warmth
and
sincerity
of
nature
,
that
must
have
been
very
beautiful
.
But
my
peculiar
gift
,
my
own
own
gift
,
was
a
power
of
sympathy
with
others
,
by
which
quite
naturally
I
used
to
throw
myself
into
their
places
,
understand
their
difficulties
,
and
excite
myself
with
their
interests
.
When
I
was
yet
quite
a
child
,
that
,
I
know
,
is
what
men
felt
in
me
—
I
never
cared
for
boys
—
one
man
especially
.
It
was
then
that
life
began
for
me
,
and
what
it
all
meant
broke
on
me
like
a
revelation
.
I
,
in
my
simplicity
,
never
dreamt
of
his
being
more
than
a
friend
—
I
am
not
sure
even
that
he
was
my
dearest
friend
.
I
certainly
never
tried
to
charm
him
.
But
I
did
charm
him
,
nevertheless
,
quite
unconsciously
.
And
he
loved
me
passionately
,
devotedly
,
child
as
I
was
.
Ah
,
God
!
when
will
another
ever
feel
the
same
for
me
?
And
I
—
‘O
,
my
lost
,
my
rejected
friend
!
come
back
to
me’
,
sometimes
I
still
cry
in
my
solitude
;
‘poor
,
and
obscurely
connected
as
you
are
,
come
back
to
me
!
’
I
shall
never
forget
—
poor
little
me
!
—
the
solemn
shock
of
the
moment
,
how
my
heart
stood
still
,
how
all
the
blood
came
rushing
into
my
cheek
,
when
all
of
a
sudden
,
as
it
seemed
to
me
,
and
without
any
warning
,
he
asked
me
to
be
his
wife
.
Everything
seemed
to
grow
dizzy
before
me
.
It
seemed
to
me
as
if
the
day
of
judgment
had
come
.
(
Alas
!
will
there
ever
be
a
day
of
judgment
at
all
?
is
what
I
now
ask
.
)
I
don’t
know
what
I
said
.
I
only
remember
distinctly
my
throwing
myself
into
my
mother’s
arms
,
and
crying
like
a
child
—
and
I
was
one
—
as
if
my
very
heart
would
break
.
‘I
am
only
a
child
!
’
that
is
what
I
said
.
‘Oh
,
mother
,
I
am
such
a
child
!
’
The
pathos
of
the
scene
often
comes
back
to
me
even
now
—
a
shadowy
timid
memory
,
wondering
if
I
shall
give
it
harbour
.
I
remember
,
too
,
how
I
said
my
prayers
that
night
,
and
how
I
asked
God
—
”
’
‘I
think
you
needn’t
read
that
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘go
on
a
page
or
two
further.’
‘
“
I
spent
much
of
my
time
sketching
.
”
Shall
I
go
on
there
?
’
said
Laurence
.
‘
“
I
had
always
a
curiously
appreciative
eye
for
natural
beauty
.
”
Will
that
do
?
Or
shall
I
go
on
here
—
I
think
this
is
better
—
at
the
next
paragraph
?
—
“
Oh
the
great
waste
of
love
in
this
our
world
.
”
’
‘Yes
,
go
on
there
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
and
several
others
.
‘
“
Oh
the
great
waste
of
love
in
this
our
world
!
How
many
a
true
heart
would
have
given
itself
to
me
,
could
I
only
honestly
and
unreservedly
have
opened
out
to
it
all
the
depths
of
mine
,
and
received
it
!
And
why
did
I
never
do
so
?
It
may
be
that
I
have
known
none
who
could
really
understand
me
—
none
that
I
could
really
love
.
But
does
that
excuse
me
,
not
for
not
loving
them
,
but
for
making
as
though
I
did
love
them
,
and
so
ruining
their
lives
and
searing
my
own
?
sending
them
in
the
end
to
their
brandy-bottles
,
and
their
gaming-hells
,
and
their
wild
Cremornes
,
and
myself
—
to
the
mental
state
in
which
I
am
now
!
‘
“
Have
I
then
lost
it
for
ever
—
lost
all
hope
of
love
?
and
must
I
quietly
take
up
with
my
unappreciated
loneliness
?
If
it
is
so
,
if
,
indeed
,
it
is
so
,
surely
I
have
brought
it
on
myself
.
Was
there
not
one
—
not
my
earliest
lover
—
but
another
,
who
with
a
devotion
I
understood
far
more
fully
,
laid
himself
at
my
feet
,
and
offered
me
all
his
man’s
devotion
,
and
his
man’s
sympathy
!
Why
,
why
in
my
madness
did
I
send
him
from
me
,
penniless
as
he
was
—
but
what
of
that
?
—
driving
him
to
death
,
and
leaving
myself
to
desolation
?
How
does
the
image
of
his
pale
still
face
upturned
towards
the
Indian
star-light
,
with
eyes
which
no
star-light
could
ever
touch
any
more
,
rise
before
me
—
his
hand
on
his
breast
,
and
clasping
with
its
last
grasp
a
locket
with
my
picture
in
it
!
Yes
,
I
see
him
there
,
though
I
did
not
see
him
.
I
know
how
he
must
have
looked
,
with
his
heart
bullet-pierced
—
noble
,
beautiful
in
death
.
Unworthy
as
I
was
of
you
,
my
true-hearted
one
,
too
late
,
too
late
,
did
I
learn
my
own
unworthiness
.
I
was
sitting
in
the
window
of
our
house
at
Ventnor
,
when
the
letter
came
that
told
me
.
It
was
evening
;
and
I
had
been
looking
out
through
the
summer
twilight
at
the
sea
and
at
the
sunset
.
As
I
read
the
letter
,
it
dropped
from
my
hand
.
I
gave
a
gasp
.
I
repressed
a
shrill
cry
.
I
felt
a
choking
sensation
in
my
throat
;
but
I
was
very
proud
,
and
I
even
repressed
a
sob
.
I
only
,
with
entire
calmness
,
turned
my
head
towards
the
sea
,
and
sighed
a
sigh
deep-drawn
as
if
my
soul
were
in
it
.
My
cheek
was
pale
,
my
eyes
were
wild
and
wistful
—
full
of
a
solemn
new
earnestness
.
What
the
exact
thoughts
were
that
were
busy
in
me
,
I
cannot
tell
.
All
I
am
conscious
of
was
this
,
that
far
,
far
off
were
the
great
crimson
spaces
of
evening
sky
and
a
trail
of
rippled
splendour
on
the
sea
.
One
great
violet
cloud
fringed
with
a
border
of
living
fire
,
that
seemed
to
be
eating
into
it
,
hung
just
above
the
place
where
the
sun
had
gone
down
;
and
over
this
,
in
a
pale
liquid
solitude
of
hushed
colour
,
was
the
evening
star
,
trembling
like
a
tear-drop
.
I
was
always
sensitive
to
colour
;
and
somehow
or
other
this
sunset
relieved
me
—
went
right
to
my
heart
with
a
quiet
sense
of
healing
.
That
evening
was
,
I
think
,
one
of
the
great
points
in
my
life
.
I
seemed
ever
after
to
see
my
own
character
more
clearly
—
how
deep
were
my
own
capacities
for
feeling
,
and
also
how
strangely
Nature
could
enter
in
and
comfort
me
,
when
all
human
sympathy
would
have
seemed
intrusive
.
That
night
,
when
I
went
upstairs
,
I
hardly
knew
myself
.
There
was
a
wild
look
in
my
eyes
—
an
inexpressible
mournfulness
and
an
inexpressible
longing
.
Two
or
three
long
tendrils
of
hair
had
got
loose
,
and
hung
over
my
forehead
with
a
kind
of
wild
languor
.
‘What
is
there
that
men
can
see
in
me
to
attract
them
?
’
I
had
often
said
to
myself
.
I
think
then
a
something
of
what
it
was
began
to
dawn
upon
me
.
‘And
he
—
he
,
the
true
,
the
gallant
,
the
devoted
,
he
has
lost
all
this’
,
I
gasped
,
turning
away
from
the
glass
;
and
,
throwing
myself
on
my
knees
by
the
bed
,
the
sob
I
had
so
long
suppressed
broke
forth
,
and
I
tried
to
pray
—
”
h’m
—
and
so
on
,
and
so
on
,
and
so
on
—
’
‘You
needn’t
read
all
those
bits
about
the
prayers
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘I
don’t
think
it
is
quite
reverent.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘here’s
a
new
stage
of
her
life
.
Let
us
go
on
here
.
“
And
now
,
from
the
bleak
desolation
of
my
present
existence
,
I
peer
wistfully
out
on
all
sides
,
and
see
if
any
will
bring
the
love
to
me
that
I
so
much
crave
for
.
”
’
‘Poor
thing
!
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
with
a
little
sigh
.
‘I’m
afraid
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘I
must
mention
,
by
the
way
,
that
the
lady
is
married
,
and
remarkably
well
married
too.’
‘
“
Here
in
the
old
house
with
its
quiet
gables
,
”
Laurence
went
on
reading
,
“
I
sit
in
my
own
room
,
and
watch
the
sunset
dying
away
over
the
yellowing
autumn
woods
,
itself
the
colour
of
a
belated
autumn
leaf
.
I
watch
it
alone
—
yes
,
thank
heaven
,
alone
.
I
manage
to
steal
for
an
hour
or
two
away
from
those
people
of
whom
the
house
is
full
.
Who
is
there
amongst
them
that
can
understand
me
?
whose
spirit
meets
mine
on
equal
terms
?
I
laugh
with
them
,
I
talk
with
them
,
I
jest
with
them
,
and
they
think
they
know
me
.
But
ah
!
the
weariness
,
the
far-offness
of
it
all
—
”
’
‘It
is
entirely
her
own
fault
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
’
that
she
has
these
people
here
.
Her
husband
is
devoted
to
the
country
and
the
turnips
for
their
own
sake
,
and
would
never
see
a
soul
but
a
few
of
the
neighbouring
squires
and
parsons
,
if
she
did
not
make
him
.
In
London
,
you
know
,
she
is
nearly
always
by
herself
.
At
least
,
’
Lady
Ambrose
added
,
‘he’s
very
rarely
with
her.’
‘A
little
further
on
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘it
seems
that
all
the
visitors
have
gone
;
and
she
has
been
to
pay
a
visit
to
the
parson’s
wife.’
‘You
may
be
sure
she
was
quite
by
herself
if
she
did
that
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘Here
,
’
Laurence
continued
,
‘is
a
description
of
the
visit
.
“
What
sweet
eyes
the
little
thing
had
!
What
a
look
of
trustfulness
in
her
face
!
A
good
and
pure
,
and
therefore
a
happy
woman
,
if
ever
there
was
one
.
What
a
trust
in
those
eyes
of
hers
!
What
an
innocence
!
What
a
sweet
content
!
There
is
no
purple
shadow
of
care
under
her
eyes
—
(
people
say
I
darken
mine
artificially
.
Alas
!
heaven
knows
there
is
little
need
for
me
to
do
that
!
)
There
is
no
secret
trouble
discernible
in
her
lips
—
no
languor
in
her
air
!
What
does
she
know
of
life
,
with
its
troubles
,
its
distractions
,
its
sins
?
Ah
!
were
I
but
like
her
—
I
,
world-worn
and
world-weary
,
sickened
with
pomps
,
and
vanities
,
and
soiled
affections
,
and
hollow
homage
—
were
I
but
worthy
that
she
should
talk
to
me
!
‘Don’t
talk
to
me
,
’
I
felt
inclined
to
say
.
‘You
wouldn’t
if
you
knew
—
if
you
could
know
!
Oh
,
how
far
better
are
you
than
I
!
You
little
dream
when
I
show
myself
demurely
in
my
seat
in
the
village
church
,
bowing
at
the
Glorias
,
or
kneeling
with
my
face
hid
in
my
hands
,
you
little
imagine
what
a
woman
you
see
there
.
You
little
dream
what
strange
thoughts
unbidden
mix
themselves
up
for
me
with
the
hymn-music
;
what
wild
regrets
,
what
bitter
reveries
,
what
strange
scenes
and
figures
,
fill
my
mind
as
I
kneel
before
the
Communion-table
.
Why
could
I
not
have
been
content
like
you
with
a
quiet
lot
,
a
toiling
honest
husband
like
you
?
Is
there
not
something
holy
,
even
in
his
dull
sermons
,
if
you
only
look
on
them
in
the
lovely
light
of
duty
?
Why
does
my
heart
vibrate
with
the
troubled
wailing
music
of
many
sorrows
,
many
longings
,
of
which
you
do
not
even
dream
the
existence
?
Oh
!
what
a
far
higher
,
far
nobler
woman
are
you
than
I
,
in
every
way
!
”
’
‘And
now
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
seeing
that
Laurence
had
shut
the
book
,
‘I
want
to
know
if
all
this
is
a
specimen
of
culture
,
and
if
you
would
call
the
writer
a
cultivated
person
;
because
she
is
really
one
of
the
most
delightful
people
I
know
to
talk
to
;
and
if
this
is
what
you
call
culture
—
though
I
think
,
in
her
case
,
it’s
a
little
bit
affected
,
you
know
—
but
then
she
never
lets
you
see
all
this
when
you
talk
to
her
—
I
do
quite
from
the
bottom
of
my
heart
give
up
about
culture
being
priggish
,
and
bookish
,
and
all
that
;
and
since
,
as
you
say
,
it
really
must
include
religion
,
I
don’t
see
what
we
could
wish
for
more
,
to
make
life
—
humanly
speaking
—
perfect
.
Of
course
we
shall
do
good
sometimes
—
I
mean
,
not
forget
the
poor
—
there’s
something
so
wretchedly
heartless
in
that
,
I
think
.
And
then
,
too
,
politics
—
’
‘Yes
,
’
repeated
Allen
,
‘politics
—
’
‘Of
course
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘it
is
necessary
that
some
of
us
should
look
after
politics
,
because
if
we
did
not
somebody
else
would
.
But
still
—
(
are
you
a
Liberal
,
Lord
Allen
?
)
—
but
still
,
within
a
limit
,
I
think
the
less
we
meddle
the
better.’
‘Much
,
Lady
Ambrose
,
’
said
Mr.
Rose
,
who
had
been
somewhat
put
out
by
this
digression
,
‘much
is
,
no
doubt
,
to
be
got
over
in
your
friend’s
style
;
nor
do
I
think
the
culture
displayed
in
her
memoirs
,
even
apart
from
that
—
’
‘Oh
,
but
you
mustn’t
judge
her
only
by
her
writings
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘When
you
meet
her
,
she
is
not
a
bit
like
them.’
‘Amateurs
in
writing
rarely
are
,
’
said
Laurence
.
‘Their
writings
are
simply
the
foot-notes
of
their
lives
,
where
they
tell
you
what
they
have
not
skill
enough
to
bring
into
the
text.’
‘She
draws
beautifully
,
’
Lady
Ambrose
went
on
,
‘and
is
really
the
brightest
of
creatures
—
so
witty
,
and
with
such
a
sense
of
the
ridiculous
!
And
really
,
to
hear
her
tell
a
bit
of
scandal
—
not
that
I
at
all
approve
of
scandal
myself
—
I
always
think
it’s
so
uncharitable
—
’
‘Ah
,
’
said
Donald
Gordon
gently
,
‘I
have
the
very
highest
opinion
of
scandal
.
It
is
founded
on
the
most
sacred
of
things
—
that
is
,
Truth
,
and
it
is
built
up
by
the
most
beautiful
of
things
—
that
is
,
Imagination.’
‘Well
,
Mr.
Gordon
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
smiling
,
‘we
won’t
talk
about
that
now
.
But
as
for
what
you
say
about
style
,
Mr.
Rose
,
it
is
rather
jerky
,
and
so
forth
,
I
admit
.
However
,
that’s
the
way
with
us
women
.
Indeed
,
I
often
think
that
if
women
had
invented
language
,
it
would
have
consisted
mainly
of
interjections
,
and
that
its
only
stop
would
have
been
a
note
of
exclamation.’
Mr.
Rose
was
much
annoyed
at
these
interruptions
.
‘I
wanted
to
say
,
’
he
went
on
,
as
soon
as
Lady
Ambrose
had
ceased
,
‘that
I
think
your
friend’s
memoirs
more
instructive
from
their
very
shortcomings
,
as
showing
how
the
human
mind
—
even
if
not
exceptionally
gifted
—
has
come
to
be
an
organism
of
increased
delicacy
and
capacity
,
except
when
stunted
by
the
necessity
of
work
,
or
of
occupation
that
is
other
than
voluntary
,
and
chosen
for
any
object
beyond
itself
.
You
have
here
,
you
see
,
that
same
modern
sense
of
the
blending
together
of
the
outer
and
inner
worlds
;
there
is
the
same
delicate
discrimination
between
the
aesthetic
aspects
of
the
different
stages
of
life
,
and
the
nice
gradation
of
moral
colours
:
there
is
the
same
fine
self-consciousness
,
and
consequent
endeavour
to
give
tone
and
quality
to
her
memories
as
they
pass
by
her
,
in
exquisite
and
complex
ways.’
‘Yes
,
’
exclaimed
Leslie
suddenly
,
who
had
spoken
but
little
all
the
evening
,
‘here
,
I
think
,
is
the
crowning
work
of
culture
.
It
teaches
each
of
us
to
look
back
upon
his
own
life
,
with
all
its
wants
,
its
relations
,
and
its
possibilities
,
all
its
wasted
hours
and
its
affections
trifled
away
or
degraded
—
it
teaches
us
to
look
back
upon
all
this
with
quite
a
new
kind
of
discrimination
.
The
beauty
of
youth
,
with
all
its
buoyancy
and
innocence
,
wakes
in
us
of
the
modern
world
a
more
wistful
and
solemn
regret
;
we
are
more
keenly
alive
to
the
pathos
of
failure
;
to
the
sadness
of
the
cold
shadows
that
will
often
darken
the
whole
inward
landscape
,
and
the
ravage
made
by
the
storms
that
will
sometimes
break
over
it
;
and
to
the
gleams
of
sunshine
fitfully
reappearing
,
often
only
touching
its
distant
wolds
.
And
the
charm
of
this
is
,
’
Leslie
went
on
,
with
a
short
laugh
,
‘that
however
disastrous
our
lives
may
have
been
,
whatever
shipwreck
we
may
have
made
of
ourselves
or
others
,
let
us
only
look
back
on
this
with
the
eyes
of
culture
,
whilst
“
es
wiederholt
die
Klage
des
Lebens
labyrinthisch
irren
Lauf
,
”
and
the
whole
retrospect
becomes
a
delightful
picture
,
the
more
impressive
and
suggestive
from
its
landslips
,
its
broken
roads
,
and
its
waste
places
.
I
really
think
one
is
repaid
for
having
made
oneself
quite
lonely
,
and
deserted
,
and
friendless
,
by
the
pleasure
one
gets
from
contemplating
one’s
own
situation.’
‘I
cannot
bear
that
man
,
’
whispered
Lady
Ambrose
to
Miss
Merton
.
‘Didn’t
you
notice
the
nasty
way
in
which
all
that
was
said
?
But
—
good
gracious
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
what
is
that
bell
ringing
for
in
the
house
?
Is
that
for
us
to
leave
off
talking
?
We
have
not
half
done
yet.’
Laurence
smiled
,
and
looked
a
little
shy
,
and
murmured
that
he
did
not
think
it
was
so
late
.
‘I
don’t
know
whether
you’ll
mind
,
’
he
said
at
last
,
‘but
our
Rector
is
going
to
give
us
a
little
evening
service
.
He
proposed
it
this
afternoon
in
the
garden
,
and
I
could
not
well
refuse.’
‘Mind
it
!
’
exclaimed
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘I
should
think
not.’
‘Service
!
’
said
Dr.
Jenkinson
briskly
;
‘yes
,
come
and
let
us
go
to
that
.
I
think
,
’
he
said
,
looking
round
him
,
‘that
you
will
find
the
religion
we
have
is
the
best
for
us
at
present
.
I
think
so
.
And
Christianity
,
’
he
added
,
turning
to
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘really
embraces
all
religions
,
even
any
honest
denial
of
itself.’
There
was
now
a
general
movement
towards
the
house
.
‘I’m
afraid
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
to
Leslie
,
‘that
you’re
not
of
a
very
happy
disposition
.
You
don’t
look
happy
,
somehow
.
And
yet
I
think
you
might
be
,
if
you
only
tried
.
I
suppose
you’re
not
out
of
spirits
like
Mr.
Laurence
,
because
you
don’t
believe
in
the
Trinity
,
are
you
?
Just
look
at
the
sea
now
.
Isn’t
that
beautiful
?
Don’t
you
care
for
that
?
But
I
,
you
know
,
’
she
added
with
a
sigh
,
‘disagree
with
Mr.
Luke
.
I
want
the
notion
of
a
personal
deity
,
to
make
me
enjoy
nature
.
I
want
my
thought
to
pass
away
to
him
.
But
I
don’t
mean
a
vague
deity
;
but
some
one
whom
I
have
myself
made
a
deity
,
and
who
,
therefore
,
I
can
be
quite
sure
exists
—
do
you
see
?
’
‘My
dear
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
again
to
Miss
Merton
,
‘I
really
cannot
bear
Mr.
Leslie
.
I
feel
quite
sure
he’s
a
bad
man
.
And
the
way
he
sneers
and
laughs
at
things
does
go
so
against
me
.
I
wouldn’t
have
that
man
inside
my
house
,
do
you
know
,
for
anything
.
I
know
you
don’t
think
so
;
but
then
you
Roman
Catholics
believe
so
much
,
you
can
afford
to
be
liberal
.
Not
that
I
myself
am
at
all
bigoted
;
indeed
,
the
one
thing
I
think
we
want
is
toleration
and
charity
.
And
do
you
know
,
my
dear
,
’
Lady
Ambrose
added
as
they
were
entering
the
house
,
‘I
have
a
set
of
eight
cousins
,
all
unmarried
;
and
when
I
look
at
those
girls’
faces
,
I
do
confess
,
my
dear
,
that
I
positively
wish
your
religion
was
true
;
for
then
they
could
all
go
into
convents
.
One
doesn’t
like
those
half-and-half
Protestant
things
,
you
know.’
Just
at
this
moment
,
emerging
from
the
house
,
pale
and
disappointed
,
appeared
the
figure
of
Mr.
Saunders
.
‘It
is
thrown
away
,
’
he
exclaimed
;
‘my
disproof
of
God’s
existence
.
The
under-housemaid
did
it
!
I
am
pleased
to
discover
,
however
,
that
she
previously
read
through
a
part
;
so
it
has
not
perished
,
I
trust
,
without
emancipating
one
spirit
.
What
!
are
you
all
going
indoors
?
’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
,
laying
his
arm
on
Mr.
Saunders’s
shoulder
;
‘and
you
had
better
come
too
.
Young
man
,
’
he
said
in
a
voice
of
commanding
kindness
,
‘you
should
never
in
this
virulent
way
deny
God’s
existence
.
What
rational
man
believes
in
it
?
’
‘
before
dinner
,
’
said
Mr.
Rose
,
who
with
Laurence
was
bringing
up
the
rear
,
‘at
the
books
in
your
uncle’s
pavilion
in
the
garden
;
and
I
saw
there
,
in
a
closed
case
,
a
copy
of
the
“
Cultes
secrets
des
Dames
Romaines
.
”
’
‘Well
?
’
said
Laurence
a
little
stiffly
.
‘It
has
been
locked
up
for
years.’
‘I
conceived
as
much
,
’
said
Mr.
Rose
gently
.
‘As
you
do
not
seem
to
set
much
store
by
the
work
,
I
will
give
you
thirty
pounds
for
it.’
BOOK
V.
CHAPTER
I
.
ONCE
more
the
theatre
was
brightly
lighted
;
and
once
more
the
congregation
was
assembled
in
the
tier
of
boxes
.
There
was
not
so
much
excitement
as
there
had
been
in
the
morning
;
indeed
,
the
reserved
decorum
that
reigned
might
have
been
said
to
partake
almost
of
the
nature
of
apathy
.
When
,
however
,
Dr.
Seydon
entered
,
none
could
deny
that
he
did
indeed
look
a
reverend
man
;
and
the
very
aspect
of
the
place
seemed
to
grow
devotional
at
his
presence
.
Lady
Ambrose
perceived
with
a
full
heart
that
he
was
duly
habited
in
a
surplice
;
and
her
bosom
warmed
with
a
sense
of
safety
and
of
comfort
as
he
took
his
place
and
solemnly
produced
his
prayer-book
.
Nor
was
Lady
Ambrose
alone
in
this
sudden
stir
of
feeling
.
There
was
another
of
the
worshippers
who
was
moved
even
more
strongly
,
though
in
a
slightly
different
way
.
Many
starts
had
been
given
on
the
stage
in
that
theatre
;
but
none
of
these
,
it
may
be
safely
said
,
ever
equalled
one
now
given
in
the
boxes
,
as
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
who
had
been
kneeling
with
his
face
hid
in
his
hands
,
raised
his
eyes
,
and
saw
for
the
first
time
who
it
was
confronting
him
—
no
obscure
rural
clergyman
,
as
he
had
anticipated
,
but
that
illiberal
apologist
of
superstition
,
whose
officious
bigotry
had
robbed
the
Upper
House
of
its
most
enlightened
spiritual
peer
.
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
however
,
with
the
heroism
of
a
true
martyr
,
suffered
bravely
for
his
faith
in
the
comprehensiveness
of
Christianity
.
His
face
assumed
,
in
another
moment
,
an
expression
of
cherubic
suavity
;
in
his
gentlest
and
devoutest
tones
he
was
soon
taking
his
part
in
the
whole
service
,
and
that
too
with
such
an
exquisite
clearness
of
articulation
,
that
,
amongst
the
confused
murmurs
of
the
rest
,
the
entire
evening
office
sounded
like
a
duet
between
him
and
Dr.
Seydon
.
It
is
true
that
there
was
something
in
the
ring
of
this
one
audible
voice
that
gave
the
latter
a
sense
of
something
being
wrong
somewhere
;
but
luckily
,
being
a
little
shortsighted
,
he
could
not
recognise
the
owner
of
it
;
and
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
feeling
no
manner
of
call
to
endure
the
sermon
,
retired
furtively
as
soon
as
the
prayers
were
over
.
‘Weren’t
they
read
beautifully
!
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
to
Lady
Grace
in
a
whisper
.
‘Oh
,
how
glad
I
shall
be
to
hear
him
preach
once
again
!
’
she
added
,
as
Dr.
Seydon
,
having
risen
from
his
knees
,
retired
,
his
hands
clasped
before
him
,
through
the
side
door
.
Lady
Ambrose
,
however
,
was
entirely
alone
in
this
gladness
.
Most
of
the
others
dreaded
the
sermon
that
was
imminent
,
and
some
even
meditated
following
Dr.
Jenkinson
.
But
events
were
too
quick
for
them
.
Hardly
,
it
seemed
,
had
Dr.
Seydon
left
the
stalls
,
than
the
curtain
drew
rapidly
up
,
and
displayed
again
the
gorge
in
the
Indian
Caucasus
,
only
with
a
preacher
in
it
very
different
from
the
one
who
had
stood
there
in
the
morning
.
The
whole
congregation
gave
a
sudden
gasp
of
surprise
.
It
was
not
Dr.
Seydon
that
they
saw
.
It
was
Mr.
Herbert
.
With
a
gracious
gravity
he
advanced
towards
the
footlights
;
and
made
a
slight
bow
to
the
house
—
a
bow
of
deprecation
and
apology
.
‘A
little
while
ago
,
in
the
garden
,
’
he
said
,
‘I
confessed
to
our
kind
host
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
that
there
were
a
few
things
that
I
should
like
quietly
to
say
to
you
;
and
Mr.
Laurence
has
become
sponsor
for
you
all
,
and
has
promised
,
in
your
names
,
that
you
would
suffer
me
to
say
them
here
.
It
is
true
,
’
Mr.
Herbert
went
on
,
with
a
smile
and
a
wave
of
his
hand
,
‘that
when
I
look
round
me
at
this
glittering
semicircle
,
I
begin
to
feel
not
a
little
shy
of
you
,
and
to
repent
of
my
own
temerity
.
You
,
however
,
have
given
me
to-day
so
much
good
food
for
reflection
,
that
I
feel
bound
,
in
the
commonest
honesty
,
to
make
what
poor
return
I
can
.
So
remember
,
that
if
I
weary
you
,
you
have
really
brought
it
upon
yourselves
.
‘Well
—
to
begin
,
then
.
You
think
me
—
you
need
not
deny
it
,
for
I
know
you
think
me
—
a
somewhat
crotchety
and
melancholy
individual
,
averse
to
modern
knowledge
and
to
modern
progress
,
and
seeing
,
as
a
rule
,
everything
very
yellow
indeed
,
with
his
jaundiced
eyes
.
But
I
think
myself
that
I
am
not
by
any
means
so
obstinate
and
so
wrong-headed
as
I
am
quite
aware
that
I
appear
to
you
;
nay
,
my
own
opinion
is
that
I
err
,
rather
,
in
not
being
quite
obstinate
enough
.
It
is
true
that
I
have
persistently
pointed
out
that
England
is
at
present
given
over
wholly
to
ignoble
pursuits
,
and
is
ruining
herself
with
deadly
industries
.
But
I
have
never
said
hitherto
,
so
far
as
I
know
,
that
we
might
not
rally
,
and
that
a
brighter
future
might
not
be
in
store
for
us
.
Nay
,
I
hailed
a
piece
of
news
to-day
with
the
most
unfeigned
delight
,
which
seemed
an
omen
to
me
that
such
a
brighter
future
actually
was
in
store
for
us
.
In
a
paper
that
reached
me
this
afternoon
there
was
a
letter
on
the
prospects
of
the
English
iron
trade
;
and
I
read
in
that
letter
that
nineteen
foundries
in
Middlesborough
have
been
closed
within
the
last
three
months
,
and
the
Moloch
fires
in
their
blast-furnaces
extinguished
;
that
ten
more
foundries
in
the
same
place
are
scarcely
able
to
continue
work
,
and
must
very
shortly
be
closed
likewise
;
and
that
the
dense
smoke-cloud
that
so
long
has
darkened
that
whole
country
is
beginning
to
clear
away
,
and
will
open
ere
long
upon
astonished
human
eyes
,
that
have
never
yet
beheld
it
,
the
liquid
melted
blue
of
the
deep
wells
of
the
sky
.
It
is
quite
true
that
this
indication
of
a
reviving
prosperity
for
our
country
suggests
more
than
it
proves
.
But
at
any
rate
it
put
me
this
afternoon
,
when
I
joined
your
party
,
into
quite
a
right
and
hopeful
mood
for
appreciating
your
conceptions
of
a
better
order
of
things
.
It
is
in
fact
simply
to
explain
my
appreciation
that
I
am
,
in
this
most
unconscionable
way
,
now
detaining
you
.
‘Let
me
say
in
the
first
place
,
then
,
how
profoundly
right
I
consider
the
manner
in
which
you
set
to
work
.
For
it
is
one
of
the
most
vital
of
all
truths
,
that
in
a
perfect
state
all
the
parts
will
be
perfect
;
and
that
if
the
highest
classes
be
as
good
as
they
can
be
,
so
also
will
be
all
the
other
classes
.
And
I
want
to
tell
you
,
in
the
next
place
,
how
entirely
fair
and
lovely
did
all
the
elements
seem
to
be
,
out
of
which
you
composed
for
your
higher
classes
their
ideal
existence
.
For
you
gave
them
every
outward
grace
that
could
adorn
life
,
and
every
inward
taste
and
emotion
that
could
enrich
it
,
and
every
species
of
intellectual
activity
that
could
stimulate
it
.
Your
society
was
indeed
to
be
truly
the
crème
de
la
crème
:
it
was
to
be
made
beautiful
,
and
profound
,
and
brilliant
,
by
lovers
,
and
theologians
,
and
wits
,
and
men
of
science
,
and
poets
,
and
philosophers
,
and
humourists
—
all
men
and
women
of
the
world
,
and
fit
to
live
in
society
,
as
well
as
to
educate
it
.
This
would
indeed
be
,
as
was
said
at
dinner
,
Rome
and
Athens
and
Florence
,
at
their
best
,
and
let
me
add
Paris
also
,
united
and
reanimated
,
and
enriched
by
the
possession
of
yet
wider
knowledge
,
and
the
possibilities
of
freer
speculation
.
That
truly
is
a
dazzling
picture
.
But
even
that
is
not
all
.
There
was
your
city
itself
too
,
of
which
a
lovely
glimpse
was
given
us
,
with
its
groves
,
its
gardens
,
its
palaces
,
and
its
exquisite
reproductions
of
the
world’s
noblest
architectures
;
and
all
this
under
our
softest
English
skies
,
and
by
our
bluest
English
seas
.
Ah
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Herbert
,
smiling
,
and
clasping
his
hands
gently
,
‘how
I
should
like
to
live
in
a
city
like
that
!
I
can
literally
see
it
now
with
my
mind’s
eye
,
whilst
I
am
talking
.
I
see
its
private
houses
with
their
wonders
of
wrought
marble
;
I
see
its
theatres
,
its
museums
,
its
chapels
and
churches
of
all
denominations
,
its
scientific
lecture
rooms
,
and
its
convents
.
For
what
strikes
me
more
forcibly
than
anything
is
that
all
forms
of
faith
and
philosophy
seem
to
find
here
an
impartial
home
,
and
to
unite
in
animating
one
harmonious
social
life
.
In
fact
,
so
vividly
do
I
see
this
scene
which
your
words
have
called
up
before
me
,
that
I
want
very
much
,
if
you
will
let
me
,
to
acid
one
small
feature
to
it
,
myself
.
It
is
a
very
humble
detail
,
this
of
mine
.
In
the
eyes
of
the
men
of
science
,
who
lead
modern
thought
,
it
is
simply
a
sanitary
matter
.
It
relates
to
the
way
in
which
you
shall
dispose
of
your
dead
.
Now
in
this
,
at
least
,
you
will
be
surprised
to
hear
I
quite
keep
pace
with
the
times
,
being
a
sincere
advocate
for
cremation
;
and
what
I
should
want
to
do
in
your
city
,
would
be
to
supply
it
with
an
establishment
,
hidden
underground
,
where
the
bodies
of
the
dead
should
be
turned
into
gas
,
in
properly
devised
retorts
;
the
gas
from
each
body
being
received
in
a
small
separate
gasometer
.
Above
these
gasworks
,
and
amongst
your
fair
towers
and
spires
,
and
your
superb
institutions
,
and
art-galleries
,
I
would
build
a
circular
domed
temple
of
umbred
marble
,
blind
and
blank
upon
the
face
of
it
,
without
carved
work
,
and
without
window
;
only
there
should
be
written
above
the
portal
,
not
as
in
Dante’s
vision
,
Per
me
si
va
nell’
eterno
dolore
,
but
one
verse
out
of
our
English
translation
of
the
Bible
,
for
women
and
little
children
to
read
;
and
another
verse
out
of
a
Latin
poet
,
which
is
,
I
believe
,
an
equivalent
for
the
original
of
that
translation
,
for
men
and
scholars
to
read
.
The
first
should
be
,
“
Though
after
my
skin
worms
destroy
this
body
,
yet
in
my
flesh
shall
I
see
God
.
”
And
the
other
:
Quæris
quo
jaceas
post
obitum
loco
?
And
within
,
around
the
dark
walls
,
should
be
a
number
of
separate
shrines
,
like
—
to
use
the
simile
that
Dante
would
have
chosen
—
the
stalls
in
a
great
stable
;
and
to
each
shrine
there
should
be
a
separate
gas-jet
.
And
when
the
life
of
any
was
over
,
after
the
fire
had
done
its
work
upon
the
dead
body
,
that
man
or
woman
who
felt
most
bitterly
the
loss
of
the
one
that
had
been
,
should
repair
to
this
temple
,
to
an
appointed
shrine
,
and
there
,
in
silence
kneeling
before
it
,
should
light
the
gas-jet
;
and
thus
evoking
for
the
last
time
that
which
was
once
so
loved
and
loving
,
pass
,
with
what
thoughts
might
be
,
a
brief
vigil
before
it
,
till
its
flicker
grew
slowly
faint
upon
the
watcher’s
face
,
and
at
length
it
went
out
and
ended
utterly
and
for
ever
.
And
above
,
over
these
sanctuaries
of
bereavement
and
final
leave-taking
,
there
should
hang
from
the
domed
roof
one
rude
iron
lamp
,
always
burning
—
casting
a
pale
flare
upwards
upon
the
darkness
.
This
would
be
the
common
lamp
of
the
poor
,
for
whose
sake
,
dying
,
no
one
felt
bereavement
,
or
whom
no
one
at
any
rate
could
find
time
to
say
good-bye
to
;
but
who
thus
united
together
,
apart
by
themselves
,
would
do
all
that
would
be
at
all
seemly
in
them
—
would
remind
you
mutely
and
unobtrusively
by
their
joint
light
,
that
one
thing
at
least
they
shared
with
you
,
namely
death
.
It
is
not
of
the
poor
,
however
,
that
I
am
mainly
thinking
now
.
It
is
of
your
higher
classes
,
who
have
leisure
to
feel
sorrow
and
all
its
holy
influences
.
And
these
,
I
say
,
would
find
in
this
simple
funeral
service
one
that
would
meet
all
their
diverse
needs
,
and
be
in
tune
with
all
their
diverse
feelings
.
It
would
suit
all
.
For
to
some
it
would
symbolise
an
absolute
disbelief
in
any
life
beyond
;
and
to
all
the
rest
it
would
symbolise
a
bewildered
doubt
about
any
life
beyond
.
For
in
one
or
other
of
these
states
of
mind
everyone
would
be
.
‘Do
you
deny
it
?
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Herbert
,
raising
his
voice
suddenly
,
and
looking
round
the
theatre
with
a
passionate
anger
,
at
which
the
whole
audience
were
literally
electrified
.
‘Do
you
deny
it
?
’
he
exclaimed
.
‘I
tell
you
that
it
is
so
.
I
tell
you
too
that
that
is
your
own
case
,
and
that
in
your
Utopia
you
have
aggravated
the
evil
,
and
have
not
remedied
it
.
You
are
all
deniers
or
doubters
,
I
tell
you
,
every
one
of
you
.
The
deniers
,
I
know
,
will
not
contradict
me
;
so
at
present
I
need
not
speak
to
them
.
It
is
to
you
—
the
majority
,
you
who
will
contradict
me
;
you
who
are
so
busy
with
your
various
affirmations
,
with
your
prayers
,
your
churches
,
your
philosophies
,
your
revivals
of
old
Christianities
,
or
your
new
improvements
on
them
;
with
your
love
of
justice
,
and
humanity
,
and
toleration
;
it
is
to
you
that
I
speak
.
It
is
to
you
that
I
say
that
,
however
enlightened
and
however
sure
you
may
be
about
all
other
matters
,
you
are
darkened
and
uncertain
as
to
this
—
whether
there
really
is
any
God
at
all
who
can
hear
all
the
prayers
you
utter
to
Him
,
or
whether
there
really
is
any
other
life
at
all
,
where
the
aspirations
you
are
so
proud
of
will
be
realised
,
and
where
the
wrongs
you
are
so
pitiful
over
will
be
righted
.
There
is
not
one
amongst
you
who
,
watching
a
dead
friend
,
flickering
for
the
last
time
before
you
in
the
form
of
a
gas-flame
,
and
seeing
how
a
little
while
and
this
flame
was
with
you
,
and
again
a
little
while
and
it
was
not
with
you
,
would
be
at
all
sure
whether
this
was
really
because
,
as
your
hearts
would
suggest
to
you
,
it
went
to
the
Father
,
or
because
,
as
your
men
of
science
would
assert
to
you
,
it
went
simply
—
out
.
‘Listen
to
me
for
a
moment
,
and
I
can
prove
that
this
is
so
,
to
you
.
You
are
rich
,
and
you
have
leisure
to
think
of
things
in
what
light
you
will
,
and
your
life
is
to
a
great
extent
made
easy
for
you
by
the
labour
of
others
.
I
do
not
complain
of
that
.
There
can
be
no
civilisation
without
order
,
and
there
can
be
no
order
without
subordination
.
Outward
goods
must
be
apportioned
unequally
,
or
there
would
be
no
outward
goods
to
apportion
.
But
you
who
have
the
larger
share
of
these
are
bound
to
do
something
for
those
who
have
the
less
.
I
say
you
are
bound
to
do
so
;
or
else
sooner
or
later
that
larger
share
will
be
taken
away
from
you
.
Well
,
and
what
is
it
you
propose
to
do
?
I
know
your
answer
—
I
have
heard
it
a
thousand
times
.
You
will
educate
them
—
you
will
teach
them
.
And
truly
,
if
you
know
how
to
do
that
properly
,
you
will
have
done
all
you
need
do
.
But
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Herbert
,
his
voice
again
rising
,
and
quivering
with
excitement
,
‘that
is
just
what
you
do
not
know
.
I
am
not
casting
my
words
at
random
.
Out
of
your
own
mouths
will
I
judge
you
.
There
never
was
a
time
when
you
talked
so
much
as
now
about
teaching
the
people
,
and
yet
do
not
you
yourselves
confess
that
you
cannot
agree
together
as
to
what
to
teach
them
?
You
can
agree
about
teaching
them
—
I
know
this
too
well
—
countless
things
that
you
think
will
throw
light
upon
life
;
but
life
itself
you
leave
a
blank
darkness
upon
which
no
light
can
be
thrown
.
You
say
nothing
of
what
is
good
in
it
,
and
of
what
is
evil
.
Does
success
in
it
lie
in
the
enjoyment
of
bodily
pleasures
,
or
in
the
doing
of
spiritual
duty
?
Is
there
anything
in
it
that
is
right
for
its
own
sake
,
or
are
all
things
right
only
because
of
their
consequences
?
And
seeing
that
,
if
we
struggle
for
virtue
,
our
struggles
can
never
be
quite
successful
here
,
is
there
any
other
place
where
they
may
have
,
I
do
not
say
their
reward
,
but
their
consummation
?
To
these
questions
only
two
answers
can
be
given
,
and
one
must
be
entirely
true
,
and
the
other
entirely
false
.
But
you
—
you
dare
not
give
either
;
you
are
too
enlightened
.
It
is
true
that
you
can
afford
to
be
liberal
about
these
matters
;
you
can
afford
to
consider
truth
and
falsehood
equally
tolerable
.
But
for
the
poor
man
surely
it
is
not
so
.
It
must
make
some
difference
to
him
what
you
teach
him
,
whether
your
teaching
is
to
open
his
eyes
to
his
God
and
to
his
duty
,
and
so
place
his
noblest
happiness
in
his
own
hands
,
or
whether
it
is
to
open
his
eyes
to
those
verified
Utilitarian
principles
from
which
he
will
learn
that
his
own
life
and
labour
are
only
not
utterly
contemptible
,
because
they
conduce
to
a
material
well-being
in
which
he
himself
can
have
no
share
.
If
,
with
entire
belief
yourselves
,
you
are
prepared
to
give
him
the
former
teaching
,
why
then
it
is
well
and
good
both
for
him
and
you
.
But
if
not
,
beware
of
teaching
him
at
all
.
You
will
but
be
removing
a
cataract
from
his
mind’s
eye
that
he
may
stare
aghast
and
piteous
at
his
own
poverty
and
nakedness
,
or
that
he
may
gaze
with
a
wild
beast’s
hunger
at
your
own
truly
noble
prosperity
which
he
can
never
taste
,
save
in
the
wild
beast’s
way
.
‘But
enough
of
the
poor
;
enough
of
this
division
of
happiness
.
Let
me
ask
you
to
consider
now
what
sort
of
happiness
there
is
to
divide
—
I
say
divide
,
meaning
that
you
will
get
the
whole
of
it
.
And
as
I
have
said
before
,
this
happiness
is
very
fair
in
seeming
.
Knowledge
,
and
culture
,
and
freedom
,
and
toleration
—
you
have
told
us
what
fine
things
all
these
can
do
for
you
.
And
I
admit
it
myself
too
;
I
feel
it
myself
too
.
Lovely
,
indeed
,
to
look
upon
are
the
faiths
,
the
philosophies
,
the
enthusiasms
of
the
world
—
the
ancient
products
of
the
ages
—
as
the
sunshine
of
the
modern
intellect
falls
on
them
.
See
,
they
look
clearer
,
and
brighter
,
and
more
transparent
—
see
,
they
form
themselves
into
more
exquisite
and
lucid
shapes
,
more
aërial
structures
.
But
why
?
Do
not
deceive
yourselves
;
it
is
for
a
terrible
reason
.
It
is
because
,
like
a
fabric
of
snow
,
they
are
one
and
all
dissolving
.
‘Listen
,
and
I
will
show
you
that
this
is
so
.
Aristotle
says
that
what
is
truly
a
man’s
Self
is
the
thinking
part
of
him
.
This
sooner
or
later
all
the
other
parts
obey
—
sooner
or
later
,
willingly
or
unwillingly
;
and
if
this
Self
be
base
,
the
whole
man
will
be
base
;
if
the
Self
be
noble
,
the
whole
man
will
be
noble
.
And
as
it
is
with
the
individual
man
,
so
it
is
with
the
ages
and
the
generations
.
They
obey
their
several
Selves
,
whatever
these
Selves
may
be
.
The
world
once
had
a
Self
whose
chief
spokesman
was
a
Jewish
peasant
called
Jesus
;
and
sooner
or
later
the
world
followed
him
.
Later
on
,
it
had
a
Self
whose
chief
spokesmen
were
Dominics
or
Luthers
or
Loyolas
;
and
in
like
manner
the
world
followed
them
.
Later
still
,
it
had
got
another
Self
,
and
the
chief
spokesmen
of
this
were
Voltaires
and
Rousseaus
,
And
in
each
case
the
world
was
convinced
at
heart
,
consciously
or
unconsciously
,
that
the
vital
truths
of
life
were
to
be
sought
for
only
where
these
Selves
sought
for
them
.
With
Jesus
and
with
Luther
it
sought
them
in
duty
and
in
a
turning
to
the
true
God
;
with
Voltaire
and
Rousseau
,
in
justice
,
and
in
a
turning
from
the
false
God
.
And
now
,
where
do
you
seek
them
?
Where
does
the
Self
of
your
age
seek
them
—
your
Self
,
that
thinking
part
of
you
before
which
you
all
either
quail
or
worship
?
Does
it
seek
them
either
in
justice
,
or
loving-kindness
,
or
in
the
vision
of
the
most
high
God
!
No
—
but
in
the
rotting
bodies
of
dead
men
,
or
in
the
writhing
bodies
of
live
cats
.
And
in
your
perplexity
,
and
your
amazed
despair
,
ever
and
again
you
cry
to
it
,
What
shall
we
do
to
be
saved
?
Show
us
the
Father
!
Show
us
the
high
and
holy
One
that
inhabiteth
Eternity
!
And
what
does
your
Self
answer
you
?
It
answers
you
with
a
laugh
,
“
There
is
no
high
and
holy
One
at
all
.
How
say
ye
then
to
me
,
Show
us
the
Father
?
For
the
Earth
saith
,
He
is
not
with
me
;
and
the
depth
saith
,
He
is
not
with
me
;
and
our
filthy
phials
of
decaying
animal
matter
say
,
He
is
not
with
us
.
Argal
,
ye
poor
foolish
seekers
,
He
is
nowhere
.
”
You
may
try
to
escape
from
your
own
Self
,
but
you
cannot
;
you
may
try
to
forget
its
answer
,
but
you
cannot
.
Loudly
you
may
affirm
with
your
lips
;
but
the
importunate
denial
is
ever
at
your
heart
.
Patriæ
quis
exsul
se
quoque
fugit
?
‘What
do
you
do
then
in
this
perplexity
—
this
halting
between
two
opinions
?
Why
,
you
do
this
.
You
try
to
persuade
yourselves
that
neither
opinion
is
of
much
moment
—
that
the
question
cannot
be
decided
absolutely
—
that
it
should
not
be
decided
absolutely
—
in
fact
,
that
it
is
one
of
your
chief
glories
that
you
leave
it
undecided
.
But
I
tell
you
,
in
that
case
,
that
though
you
say
you
are
rich
,
and
increased
with
goods
,
and
have
need
of
nothing
;
you
are
,
in
reality
,
wretched
,
and
miserable
,
and
poor
,
and
blind
,
and
naked
.
I
am
not
casting
my
words
at
random
.
Again
out
of
your
own
mouths
will
I
judge
you
.
All
your
culture
,
you
say
,
is
based
ultimately
upon
this
—
a
discrimination
between
right
and
wrong
.
True
,
profoundly
true
.
But
will
you
be
able
to
say
what
is
right
and
what
is
wrong
any
longer
,
if
you
don’t
know
for
whom
anything
is
right
and
for
whom
anything
is
wrong
—
whether
it
is
for
men
with
immortal
souls
,
or
only
with
mortal
bodies
—
who
are
only
a
little
lower
than
the
angels
,
or
only
a
little
better
than
the
pigs
?
Whilst
you
can
still
contrive
to
doubt
upon
this
matter
,
whilst
the
fabric
of
the
old
faith
is
still
dissolving
only
,
life
still
for
you
,
the
enlightened
few
,
may
preserve
what
happiness
it
has
now
.
But
when
the
old
fabric
is
all
dissolved
,
what
then
?
When
all
divinity
shall
have
gone
from
love
and
heroism
,
and
only
utility
and
pleasure
shall
be
left
,
what
then
?
Then
you
will
have
to
content
yourselves
with
complete
denial
;
or
build
up
again
the
faith
that
you
have
just
pulled
down
—
you
will
have
to
be
born
again
,
and
to
seek
for
a
new
Self
.
‘But
suppose
we
accept
denial
,
you
will
say
,
what
then
?
Many
deniers
have
lived
noble
lives
,
though
they
have
looked
neither
for
a
God
nor
for
a
heaven
.
Think
of
Greece
,
you
will
say
to
me
,
and
that
will
answer
you
.
No
—
but
that
is
not
so
,
and
that
will
not
answer
me
.
The
Greeks
never
,
in
your
sense
,
denied
God
;
they
never
,
in
your
sense
,
denied
eternal
life
—
never
,
because
they
never
knew
them
.
They
felt
God
only
;
they
felt
him
unconsciously
;
and
in
denying
the
God
they
knew
,
they
were
really
affirming
the
God
they
felt
.
But
you
—
do
not
you
deceive
yourselves
.
Do
not
think
you
can
ever
again
be
as
the
Greeks
.
The
world’s
progress
has
a
twofold
motion
.
History
moves
onwards
round
some
undiscovered
centre
,
as
well
as
round
what
you
consider
its
discovered
axis
;
and
though
it
seems
to
repeat
itself
,
it
never
can
repeat
itself
.
The
Atheism
of
the
modern
world
is
not
the
Atheism
of
the
ancient
:
the
long
black
night
of
the
winter
is
not
the
swift
clear
night
of
the
vanished
summer
.
The
Greek
philosopher
could
not
darken
his
life
,
for
he
knew
not
from
what
mysterious
source
the
light
fell
upon
it
.
The
modern
philosopher
does
know
,
and
he
knows
that
it
is
called
God
,
and
thus
knowing
the
source
of
light
he
can
at
once
quench
it
.
‘What
will
be
left
you
then
if
this
light
be
quenched
?
Will
art
,
will
painting
,
will
poetry
be
any
comfort
to
you
?
You
have
said
that
these
were
magic
mirrors
which
reflected
back
your
life
for
you
.
Well
—
will
they
be
any
better
than
the
glass
mirrors
in
your
drawing-rooms
,
if
they
have
nothing
but
the
same
listless
orgy
to
reflect
?
For
that
is
all
that
will
be
at
last
in
store
for
you
;
nay
,
that
is
the
best
thing
that
possibly
can
be
in
store
for
you
;
the
only
alternative
being
not
a
listless
orgy
for
the
few
,
but
an
undreamed
of
anarchy
for
all
.
I
do
not
fear
that
,
however
.
Some
will
be
always
strong
,
and
some
will
be
always
weak
;
and
though
,
if
there
is
no
God
,
no
divine
and
fatherly
source
of
order
,
there
will
be
,
trust
me
,
no
aristocracies
,
there
will
still
be
tyrannies
.
There
will
still
be
rich
and
poor
;
and
that
will
then
mean
happy
and
miserable
;
and
the
poor
will
be
—
as
I
sometimes
think
they
are
already
—
but
a
mass
of
groaning
machinery
,
without
even
the
semblance
of
rationality
;
and
the
rich
,
with
only
the
semblance
of
it
,
but
a
set
of
gaudy
,
dancing
marionettes
,
which
it
is
the
machinery’s
one
work
to
keep
in
motion
.
‘What
,
then
,
shall
you
do
to
be
saved
?
Rend
your
hearts
,
I
say
,
and
do
not
mend
your
garments
.
Seek
God
earnestly
,
and
peradventure
you
still
may
find
Him
—
and
I
—
even
I
may
find
Him
also
.
For
I
—
who
am
I
that
speak
to
you
?
Am
I
a
believer
?
No
,
I
am
a
doubter
too
.
Once
I
could
pray
every
morning
,
and
go
forth
to
my
day’s
labour
stayed
and
comforted
.
But
now
I
can
pray
no
longer
.
You
have
taken
my
God
away
from
me
,
and
I
know
not
where
you
have
laid
Him
.
My
only
consolation
in
my
misery
is
that
at
least
I
am
inconsolable
for
His
loss
.
Yes
,
’
cried
Mr.
Herbert
,
his
voice
rising
into
a
kind
of
threatening
wail
,
‘though
you
have
made
me
miserable
,
I
am
not
yet
content
with
my
misery
.
And
though
I
too
have
said
in
my
heart
that
there
is
no
God
,
and
that
there
is
no
more
profit
in
wisdom
than
in
folly
,
yet
there
is
one
folly
that
I
will
not
give
tongue
to
.
I
will
not
say
Peace
,
peace
,
when
there
is
no
peace
.
I
will
not
say
we
are
still
Christians
,
when
we
can
sip
our
wine
smilingly
after
dinner
,
and
talk
about
some
day
defining
the
Father
;
and
I
will
only
pray
that
if
such
a
Father
be
,
He
may
have
mercy
alike
upon
those
that
hate
Him
,
because
they
will
not
see
Him
;
and
on
those
who
love
and
long
for
Him
,
although
they
no
longer
can
see
Him.’
Mr.
Herbert’s
voice
ceased
.
The
curtain
fell
.
The
whirlwind
was
over
;
the
fire
was
over
;
and
after
the
fire
,
from
one
of
the
side
boxes
came
a
still
small
voice
.
‘Very
poor
taste
—
very
poor
taste.’
It
was
perceived
that
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
having
discovered
almost
immediately
who
was
really
to
be
the
preacher
,
had
stolen
back
silently
into
the
theatre
.
BOOK
V.
CHAPTER
II
.
THE
following
morning
Miss
Merton
had
risen
early
,
and
was
sauntering
slowly
before
breakfast
up
and
down
the
broad
terrace
in
front
of
the
house
.
She
inhaled
the
fresh
delightful
air
;
she
looked
out
over
the
breezy
sea
;
she
scanned
the
splendid
villa
,
now
shining
in
the
sunlight
,
with
its
marble
porticoes
,
and
its
long
rows
of
windows
;
and
she
thought
over
yesterday
with
all
its
conversations
and
incidents
.
In
especial
,
she
thought
of
Laurence
.
She
thought
of
him
as
he
was
now
,
and
as
he
had
been
in
former
times
,
when
they
had
known
each
other
so
well
;
and
as
she
thought
of
him
,
she
sighed
.
‘And
he
might
do
so
much
,
’
she
said
to
herself
,
‘and
yet
he
is
so
weak
and
so
irresolute
;
wasting
his
time
in
Paris
and
in
London
,
reading
poetry
and
buying
pictures
,
and
talking
philosophy
he
doesn’t
believe
in
with
his
dilettante
friends
.
And
this
place
—
this
lovely
place
—
how
often
does
he
come
here
?
What
does
he
do
for
his
tenants
and
dependants
—
for
all
who
ought
to
look
for
help
to
him
?
I
have
no
patience
with
a
man
who
keeps
moaning
about
religion
as
he
does
,
and
yet
won’t
act
up
to
the
light
which
he
must
have.’
Whilst
she
was
thus
meditating
,
the
subject
of
her
meditations
appeared
upon
the
terrace
.
‘You
are
out
early
,
’
he
said
.
‘I
have
been
just
seeing
Herbert
off
.
He
has
had
to
go
before
,
everybody
else
,
for
he
is
en
route
for
Italy.’
‘You
look
very
tired
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
sympathetically
.
‘Oh
,
it
is
nothing
,
’
said
Laurence
,
turning
the
subject
.
‘Did
you
notice
Leslie
last
evening
in
the
garden
,
and
how
odd
his
manner
was
?
Do
you
remember
,
too
,
the
pretty
song
he
sang
the
night
before
,
and
how
surprised
we
all
were
at
it
?
Well
,
I
had
a
letter
yesterday
,
from
a
friend
both
of
his
and
mine
,
which
explains
it
.
The
heroine
of
the
song
was
not
an
ideal
young
lady
,
though
whether
one
can
call
her
real
any
longer
is
more
than
I
can
say
.
She
is
dead
.
I
don’t
know
all
the
story
;
but
my
friend
just
gave
me
the
outline
,
and
enclosed
a
note
for
Leslie
,
to
tell
the
news
to
him
himself
.
He
never
fancies
he
feels
anything
;
but
what
he
won’t
admit
to
himself
,
his
manner
,
I
am
sure
admitted
to
me
,
and
I
dare
say
to
you
too.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
thoughtfully
,
