bywalking
over
the
common
.
Then
,
recognising
from
a
distorted
vision
of
himself
in
a
Venetian
mirror
hanging
by
that
something
of
his
natural
colour
had
returned
to
him
,
he
rose
and
bade
Vincent
announce
him
.
'
And
Mrs.
Darcy
?
'
he
asked
,
as
they
stepped
out
into
the
hall
again
.
'
Oh
,
Mrs.
Darcy
,
sir
,
she
's
very
well
,
'
said
the
man
,
but
,
as
it
seemed
to
Robert
,
with
something
of
an
embarrassed
air
.
He
followed
Vincent
down
the
long
passage
—
haunted
by
old
memories
,
by
the
old
sickening
sense
of
mental
anguish
—
to
the
curtained
door
.
Vincent
ushered
him
in
.
There
was
a
stir
of
feet
,
and
a
voice
,
but
at
first
he
saw
nothing
.
The
room
was
very
much
darkened
.
Then
Meyrick
emerged
into
distinctness
.
'
Squire
,
here
is
Mr.
Elsmere
!
Well
,
Mr.
Elsmere
,
sir
,
I
'm
sure
we
're
very
much
obliged
to
you
for
meeting
the
squire
's
wishes
so
promptly
.
You
'll
find
him
poorly
,
Mr.
Elsmere
,
but
mending
—
oh
yes
,
mending
,
sir
—
no
doubt
of
it
.
'
Elsmere
began
to
perceive
a
figure
by
the
fire
.
A
bony
hand
was
advanced
to
him
out
of
the
gloom
.
'
That
'll
do
,
Meyrick
.
You
wo
n't
be
wanted
till
the
evening
.
'
The
imperious
note
in
the
voice
struck
Robert
with
a
sudden
sense
of
relief
.
After
all
,
the
squire
was
still
capable
of
trampling
on
Meyrick
.
In
another
minute
the
door
had
closed
on
the
old
doctor
,
and
the
two
men
were
alone
.
Robert
was
beginning
to
get
used
to
the
dim
light
.
Out
of
it
the
squire
's
face
gleamed
almost
as
whitely
as
the
tortured
marble
of
the
Medusa
just
above
their
heads
.
'
It
's
some
inflammation
in
the
eyes
,
'
the
squire
explained
briefly
,
'
that
's
made
Meyrick
set
up
all
this
d
—
d
business
of
blinds
and
shutters
.
I
do
n't
mean
to
stand
it
much
longer
.
The
eyes
are
better
,
and
I
prefer
to
see
my
way
out
of
the
world
,
if
possible
.
'
'
But
you
are
recovering
?
'
Robert
said
,
laying
his
hand
affectionately
on
the
old
man
's
knee
.
'
I
have
added
to
my
knowledge
,
'
said
the
squire
drily
.
'
Like
Heine
,
I
am
qualified
to
give
lectures
in
heaven
on
the
ignorance
of
doctors
on
earth
.
And
I
am
not
in
bed
,
which
I
was
last
week
.
For
Heaven
's
sake
do
n't
ask
questions
.
If
there
is
a
loathsome
subject
on
earth
it
is
the
subject
of
the
human
body
.
Well
,
I
suppose
my
message
to
you
dragged
you
away
from
a
thousand
things
you
had
rather
be
doing
.
What
are
you
so
hoarse
for
?
Neglecting
yourself
as
usual
,
for
the
sake
of
"
the
people
,
"
who
would
n't
even
subscribe
to
bury
you
?
Have
you
been
working
up
the
Apocrypha
as
I
recommended
you
last
time
we
met
?
'
Robert
smiled
.
'
For
the
last
four
months
,
Squire
,
I
have
been
doing
two
things
with
neither
of
which
had
you
much
sympathy
in
old
days
—
holiday-making
and
"
slumming
.
"
'
'
Oh
,
I
remember
,
'
interrupted
the
squire
hastily
.
'
I
was
low
last
week
,
and
read
the
Church
papers
by
way
of
a
counter-irritant
.
You
have
been
starting
a
new
religion
,
I
see
.
A
new
religion
!
Humph
!
'
The
great
head
fell
forward
,
and
through
the
dusk
Robert
caught
the
sarcastic
gleam
of
the
eyes
.
'
You
are
hardly
the
man
to
deny
,
'
he
said
,
undisturbed
,
'
that
the
old
ones
laissent
à
désirer
.
'
'
Because
there
are
old
abuses
,
is
that
any
reason
why
you
should
go
and
set
up
a
brand-new
one
—
an
ugly
anachronism
besides
,
'
retorted
the
squire
.
'
However
,
you
and
I
have
no
common
ground
—
never
had
.
I
say
know
,
you
say
feel
.
Where
is
the
difference
,
after
all
,
between
you
and
any
charlatan
of
the
lot
?
Well
,
how
is
Madame
de
Netteville
?
'
'
I
have
not
seen
her
for
six
months
,
'
Robert
replied
,
with
equal
abruptness
.
The
squire
laughed
a
little
under
his
breath
.
'
What
did
you
think
of
her
?
'
'
Very
much
what
you
told
me
to
think
—
intellectually
,
'
replied
Robert
,
facing
him
,
but
flushing
with
the
readiness
of
physical
delicacy
.
'
Well
,
I
certainly
never
told
you
to
think
anything
—
morally
,
'
said
the
squire
.
'
The
word
moral
has
no
relation
to
her
.
Whom
did
you
see
there
?
'
The
catechism
was
naturally
most
distasteful
to
its
object
,
but
Elsmere
went
through
with
it
,
the
squire
watching
him
for
a
while
with
an
expression
which
had
a
spark
of
malice
in
it
.
It
is
not
unlikely
that
some
gossip
of
the
Lady
Aubrey
sort
had
reached
him
.
Elsmere
had
always
seemed
to
him
oppressively
good
.
The
idea
that
Madame
de
Netteville
had
tried
her
arts
upon
him
was
not
without
its
piquancy
.
But
while
Robert
was
answering
a
question
he
was
aware
of
a
subtle
change
in
the
squire
's
attitude
—
a
relaxation
of
his
own
sense
of
tension
.
After
a
minute
he
bent
forward
,
peering
through
the
darkness
.
The
squire
's
head
had
fallen
back
,
his
mouth
was
slightly
open
,
and
the
breath
came
lightly
,
quiveringly
through
.
The
cynic
of
a
moment
ago
had
dropped
suddenly
into
a
sleep
of
more
than
childish
weakness
and
defencelessness
.
Robert
remained
bending
forward
,
gazing
at
the
man
who
had
once
meant
so
much
to
him
.
Strange
white
face
,
sunk
in
the
great
chair
!
Behind
it
glimmered
the
Donatello
figure
,
and
the
divine
Hermes
,
a
glorious
shape
in
the
dusk
,
looking
scorn
on
human
decrepitude
.
All
round
spread
the
dim
walls
of
books
.
The
life
they
had
nourished
was
dropping
into
the
abyss
out
of
ken
—
they
remained
.
Sixty
years
of
effort
and
slavery
to
end
so
—
a
river
lost
in
the
sands
!
Old
Meyrick
stole
in
again
,
and
stood
looking
at
the
sleeping
squire
.
'
A
bad
sign
!
a
bad
sign
!
'
he
said
,
and
shook
his
head
mournfully
.
After
he
had
made
an
effort
to
take
some
food
which
Vincent
pressed
upon
him
,
Robert
,
conscious
of
a
stronger
physical
malaise
than
had
ever
yet
tormented
him
,
was
crossing
the
hall
again
,
when
he
suddenly
saw
Mrs.
Darcy
at
the
door
of
a
room
which
opened
into
the
hall
.
He
went
up
to
her
with
a
warm
greeting
.
'
Are
you
going
in
to
the
squire
?
Let
us
go
together
.
'
She
looked
at
him
with
no
surprise
,
as
though
she
had
seen
him
the
day
before
,
and
as
he
spoke
she
retreated
a
step
into
the
room
behind
her
,
a
curious
film
,
so
it
seemed
to
him
,
darkening
her
small
gray
eyes
.
'
The
squire
is
not
here
.
He
is
gone
away
.
Have
you
seen
my
white
mice
?
Oh
,
they
are
such
darlings
!
Only
,
one
of
them
is
ill
,
and
they
wo
n't
let
me
have
the
doctor
.
'
Her
voice
sank
into
the
most
pitiful
plaintiveness
.
She
stood
in
the
middle
of
the
room
,
pointing
with
an
elfish
finger
to
a
large
cage
of
white
mice
which
stood
in
the
window
.
The
room
seemed
full
besides
of
other
creatures
.
Robert
stood
rooted
,
looking
at
the
tiny
withered
figure
in
the
black
dress
,
its
snowy
hair
and
diminutive
face
swathed
in
lace
,
with
a
perplexity
into
which
there
slipped
an
involuntary
shiver
.
Suddenly
he
became
aware
of
a
woman
by
the
fire
,
a
decent
,
strong-looking
body
in
gray
,
who
rose
as
his
look
turned
to
her
.
Their
eyes
met
;
her
expression
and
the
little
jerk
of
her
head
towards
Mrs.
Darcy
,
who
was
now
standing
by
the
cage
coaxing
the
mice
with
the
weirdest
gestures
,
were
enough
.
Robert
turned
,
and
went
out
sick
at
heart
.
The
careful
exquisite
beauty
of
the
great
hall
struck
him
as
something
mocking
and
anti-human
.
No
one
else
in
the
house
said
a
word
to
him
of
Mrs.
Darcy
.
In
the
evening
the
squire
talked
much
at
intervals
,
but
in
another
key
.
He
insisted
on
a
certain
amount
of
light
,
and
,
leaning
on
Robert
's
arm
,
went
feebly
round
the
bookshelves
.
He
took
out
one
of
the
volumes
of
the
Fathers
that
Newman
had
given
him
.
'
When
I
think
of
the
hours
I
wasted
over
this
barbarous
rubbish
,
'
he
said
,
his
blanched
fingers
turning
the
leaves
vindictively
,
'
and
of
the
other
hours
I
maundered
away
in
services
and
self-examination
!
Thank
Heaven
,
however
,
the
germ
of
revolt
and
sanity
was
always
there
.
And
when
once
I
got
to
it
,
I
learnt
my
lesson
pretty
quick
.
'
Robert
paused
,
his
kind
inquiring
eyes
looking
down
on
the
shrunken
squire
.
'
Oh
,
not
one
you
have
any
chance
of
learning
,
my
good
friend
,
'
said
the
other
aggressively
.
'
And
after
all
it
's
simple
.
Go
to
your
grave
with
your
eyes
open
—
that
's
all
.
But
men
do
n't
learn
it
,
somehow
.
Newman
was
incapable
—
so
are
you
.
All
the
religions
are
nothing
but
so
many
vulgar
anæsthetics
,
which
only
the
few
have
courage
to
refuse
.
'
'
Do
you
want
me
to
contradict
you
?
'
said
Robert
,
smiling
;
'
I
am
quite
ready
.
'
The
squire
took
no
notice
.
Presently
,
when
he
was
in
his
chair
again
,
he
said
abruptly
,
pointing
to
a
mahogany
bureau
in
the
window
,
'
The
book
is
all
there
—
both
parts
,
first
and
second
.
Publish
it
if
you
please
.
If
not
,
throw
it
into
the
fire
.
Both
are
equally
indifferent
to
me
.
It
has
done
its
work
;
it
has
helped
me
through
half
a
century
of
living
.
'
'
It
shall
be
to
me
a
sacred
trust
,
'
said
Elsmere
with
emotion
.
'
Of
course
if
you
do
n't
publish
it
,
I
shall
publish
it
.
'
'
As
you
please
.
Well
,
then
,
if
you
have
nothing
more
rational
to
tell
me
about
,
tell
me
of
this
ridiculous
Brotherhood
of
yours
.
'
Robert
,
so
adjured
,
began
to
talk
,
but
with
difficulty
.
The
words
would
not
flow
,
and
it
was
almost
a
relief
when
in
the
middle
that
strange
creeping
sleep
overtook
the
squire
again
.
Meyrick
,
who
was
staying
in
the
house
,
and
who
had
been
coming
in
and
out
through
the
evening
,
eyeing
Elsmere
,
now
that
there
was
more
light
on
the
scene
,
with
almost
as
much
anxiety
and
misgiving
as
the
squire
,
was
summoned
.
The
squire
was
put
into
his
carrying-chair
.
Vincent
and
a
male
attendant
appeared
,
and
he
was
borne
to
his
room
,
Meyrick
peremptorily
refusing
to
allow
Robert
to
lend
so
much
as
a
finger
to
the
performance
.
They
took
him
up
the
library
stairs
,
through
the
empty
book-rooms
and
that
dreary
room
which
had
been
his
father
's
,
and
so
into
his
own
.
By
the
time
they
set
him
down
he
was
quite
awake
and
conscious
again
.
'
It
ca
n't
be
said
that
I
follow
my
own
precepts
,
'
he
said
to
Robert
grimly
as
they
put
him
down
.
'
Not
much
of
the
open
eye
about
this
.
I
shall
sleep
myself
into
the
unknown
as
sweetly
as
any
saint
in
the
calendar
.
'
Robert
was
going
when
the
squire
called
him
back
.
'
You
'll
stay
to-morrow
,
Elsmere
?
'
'
Of
course
,
if
you
wish
it
.
'
The
wrinkled
eyes
fixed
him
intently
.
'
Why
did
you
ever
go
?
'
'
As
I
told
you
before
,
Squire
,
because
there
was
nothing
else
for
an
honest
man
to
do
.
'
The
squire
turned
round
with
a
frown
.
'
What
the
deuce
are
you
dawdling
about
,
Benson
?
Give
me
my
stick
and
get
me
out
of
this
.
'
By
midnight
all
was
still
in
the
vast
pile
of
Murewell
.
Outside
,
the
night
was
slightly
frosty
.
A
clear
moon
shone
over
the
sloping
reaches
of
the
park
;
the
trees
shone
silverly
in
the
cold
light
,
their
black
shadows
cast
along
the
grass
.
Robert
found
himself
quartered
in
the
Stuart
room
,
where
James
II
.
had
slept
,
and
where
the
tartan
hangings
of
the
ponderous
carved
bed
,
and
the
rose
and
thistle
reliefs
of
the
walls
and
ceilings
,
untouched
for
two
hundred
years
,
bore
witness
to
the
loyal
preparations
made
by
some
bygone
Wendover
.
He
was
mortally
tired
,
but
by
way
of
distracting
his
thoughts
a
little
from
the
squire
,
and
that
other
tragedy
which
the
great
house
sheltered
somewhere
in
its
walls
,
he
took
from
his
coat-pocket
a
French
Anthologie
which
had
been
Catherine
's
birthday
gift
to
him
,
and
read
a
little
before
he
fell
asleep
.
Then
he
slept
profoundly
—
the
sleep
of
exhaustion
.
Suddenly
he
found
himself
sitting
up
in
bed
,
his
heart
beating
to
suffocation
,
strange
noises
in
his
ears
.
A
cry
'
Help
!
'
resounded
through
the
wide
empty
galleries
.
He
flung
on
his
dressing-gown
,
and
ran
out
in
the
direction
of
the
squire
's
room
.
The
hideous
cries
and
scuffling
grew
more
apparent
as
he
reached
it
.
At
that
moment
Benson
,
the
man
who
had
helped
to
carry
the
squire
,
ran
up
.
'
My
God
,
sir
!
'
he
said
,
deadly
white
,
'
another
attack
!
'
The
squire
's
room
was
empty
,
but
the
door
into
the
lumber-
room
adjoining
it
was
open
,
and
the
stifled
sounds
came
through
it
.
They
rushed
in
and
found
Meyrick
struggling
in
the
grip
of
a
white
figure
,
that
seemed
to
have
the
face
of
a
fiend
and
the
grip
of
a
tiger
.
Those
old
bloodshot
eyes
—
those
wrinkled
hands
on
the
throat
of
the
doctor
—
horrible
!
They
released
poor
Meyrick
,
who
staggered
bleeding
into
the
squire
's
room
.
Then
Robert
and
Benson
got
the
squire
back
by
main
force
.
The
whole
face
was
convulsed
,
the
poor
shrunken
limbs
rigid
as
iron
.
Meyrick
,
who
was
sitting
gasping
,
by
a
superhuman
effort
of
will
mastered
himself
enough
to
give
directions
for
a
strong
opiate
.
Benson
managed
to
control
the
madman
while
Robert
found
it
.
Then
between
them
they
got
it
swallowed
.
But
nature
had
been
too
quick
for
them
.
Before
the
opiate
could
have
had
time
to
work
,
the
squire
shrank
together
like
a
puppet
of
which
the
threads
are
loosened
,
and
fell
heavily
sideways
out
of
his
captors
'
hands
on
to
the
bed
.
They
laid
him
there
,
tenderly
covering
him
from
the
January
cold
.
The
swollen
eyelids
fell
,
leaving
just
a
thread
of
white
visible
underneath
,
the
clenched
hands
slowly
relaxed
;
the
loud
breathing
seemed
to
be
the
breathing
of
death
.
Meyrick
,
whose
wound
on
the
head
had
been
hastily
bound
up
,
threw
himself
beside
the
bed
.
The
night-light
beyond
cast
a
grotesque
shadow
of
him
on
the
wall
,
emphasising
,
as
though
in
mockery
,
the
long
straight
back
,
the
ragged
whiskers
,
the
strange
ends
and
horns
of
the
bandage
.
But
the
passion
in
the
old
face
was
as
purely
tragic
as
any
that
ever
spoke
through
the
lips
of
an
Antigone
or
a
Gloucester
.
'
The
last
—
the
last
!
'
he
said
,
choked
,
the
tears
falling
down
his
lined
cheeks
on
to
the
squire
's
hand
.
'
He
can
never
rally
from
this
.
And
I
was
fool
enough
to
think
yesterday
I
had
pulled
him
through
!
'
Again
a
long
gaze
of
inarticulate
grief
;
then
he
looked
up
at
Robert
.
'
He
would
n't
have
Benson
to-night
.
I
slept
in
the
next
room
with
the
door
ajar
.
A
few
minutes
ago
I
heard
him
moving
.
I
was
up
in
an
instant
,
and
found
him
standing
by
that
door
,
peering
through
,
bare-footed
,
a
wind
like
ice
coming
up
.
He
looked
at
me
,
frowning
,
all
in
a
flame
.
"
My
father
,
"
he
said
—
"
my
father
—
he
went
that
way
—
what
do
you
want
here
?
Keep
back
!
"
I
threw
myself
on
him
;
he
had
something
sharp
which
scratched
me
on
the
temple
;
I
got
that
away
from
him
,
but
it
was
his
hands
'
—
and
the
old
man
shuddered
.
'
I
thought
they
would
have
done
for
me
before
any
one
could
hear
,
and
that
then
he
would
kill
himself
as
his
father
did
.
'
Again
he
hung
over
the
figure
on
the
bed
—
his
own
withered
hand
stroking
that
of
the
squire
with
a
yearning
affection
.
'
When
was
the
last
attack
?
'
asked
Robert
sadly
.
'
A
month
ago
,
sir
,
just
after
they
got
back
.
Ah
,
Mr.
Elsmere
,
he
suffered
.
And
he
's
been
so
lonely
.
No
one
to
cheer
him
,
no
one
to
please
him
with
his
food
—
to
put
his
cushions
right
—
to
coax
him
up
a
bit
,
and
that
—
and
his
poor
sister
too
,
always
there
before
his
eyes
.
Of
course
he
would
stand
to
it
he
liked
to
be
alone
.
But
I
'll
never
believe
men
are
made
so
unlike
one
to
the
other
.
The
Almighty
meant
a
man
to
have
a
wife
or
a
child
about
him
when
he
comes
to
the
last
.
He
missed
you
,
sir
,
when
you
went
away
.
Not
that
he
'd
say
a
word
,
but
he
moped
.
His
books
did
n't
seem
to
please
him
,
nor
anything
else
.
I
've
just
broke
my
heart
over
him
this
last
year
.
'
There
was
silence
a
moment
in
the
big
room
,
hung
round
with
the
shapes
of
bygone
Wendovers
.
The
opiate
had
taken
effect
.
The
squire
's
countenance
was
no
longer
convulsed
.
The
great
brow
was
calm
;
a
more
than
common
dignity
and
peace
spoke
from
the
long
peaked
face
.
Robert
bent
over
him
.
The
madman
,
the
cynic
,
had
passed
away
:
the
dying
scholar
and
thinker
lay
before
him
.
'
Will
he
rally
?
'
he
asked
,
under
his
breath
.
Meyrick
shook
his
head
.
'
I
doubt
it
.
It
has
exhausted
all
the
strength
he
had
left
.
The
heart
is
failing
rapidly
.
I
think
he
will
sleep
away
.
And
,
Mr.
Elsmere
,
you
go
—
go
and
sleep
.
Benson
and
I
'll
watch
.
Oh
,
my
scratch
is
nothing
,
sir
.
I
'm
used
to
a
rough-and-tumble
life
.
But
you
go
.
If
there
's
a
change
we
'll
wake
you
.
'
Elsmere
bent
down
and
kissed
the
squire
's
forehead
tenderly
,
as
a
son
might
have
done
.
By
this
time
he
himself
could
hardly
stand
.
He
crept
away
to
his
own
room
,
his
nerves
still
quivering
with
the
terror
of
that
sudden
waking
,
the
horror
of
that
struggle
.
It
was
impossible
to
sleep
.
The
moon
was
at
the
full
outside
.
He
drew
back
the
curtains
,
made
up
the
fire
,
and
,
wrapping
himself
in
a
fur
coat
which
Flaxman
had
lately
forced
upon
him
,
sat
where
he
could
see
the
moonlit
park
,
and
still
be
within
the
range
of
the
blaze
.
As
the
excitement
passed
away
a
reaction
of
feverish
weakness
set
in
.
The
strangest
whirlwind
of
thoughts
fled
through
him
in
the
darkness
,
suggested
very
often
by
the
figures
on
the
seventeenth-century
tapestry
which
lined
the
walls
.
Were
those
the
trees
in
the
wood-path
?
Surely
that
was
Catherine
's
figure
,
trailing
—
and
that
dome
—
strange
!
Was
he
still
walking
in
Grey
's
funeral
procession
,
the
Oxford
buildings
looking
sadly
down
?
Death
here
!
Death
there
!
Death
everywhere
,
yawning
under
life
from
the
beginning
!
The
veil
which
hides
the
common
abyss
,
in
sight
of
which
men
could
not
always
hold
themselves
and
live
,
is
rent
asunder
,
and
he
looks
shuddering
into
it
.
Then
the
image
changed
,
and
in
its
stead
,
that
old
familiar
image
of
the
river
of
Death
took
possession
of
him
.
He
stood
himself
on
the
brink
;
on
the
other
side
were
Grey
and
the
squire
.
But
he
felt
no
pang
of
separation
,
of
pain
;
for
he
him
self
was
just
about
to
cross
and
join
them
!
And
during
a
strange
brief
lull
of
feeling
the
mind
harboured
image
and
expectation
alike
with
perfect
calm
.
Then
the
fever-spell
broke
—
the
brain
cleared
—
and
he
was
terribly
himself
again
.
Whence
came
it
—
this
fresh
inexorable
consciousness
?
He
tried
to
repel
it
,
to
forget
himself
,
to
cling
blindly
,
without
thought
,
to
God
's
love
and
Catherine
's
.
But
the
anguish
mounted
fast
.
On
the
one
hand
,
this
fast-growing
certainty
,
urging
and
penetrating
through
every
nerve
and
fibre
of
the
shaken
frame
;
on
the
other
,
the
ideal
fabric
of
his
efforts
and
his
dreams
,
the
New
Jerusalem
of
a
regenerate
faith
;
the
poor
,
the
loving
,
and
the
simple
walking
therein
!
'
My
God
!
my
God
!
no
time
,
no
future
!
'
In
his
misery
he
moved
to
the
uncovered
window
,
and
stood
looking
through
it
,
seeing
and
not
seeing
.
Outside
,
the
river
,
just
filmed
with
ice
,
shone
under
the
moon
;
over
it
bent
the
trees
,
laden
with
hoar-frost
.
Was
that
a
heron
,
rising
for
an
instant
,
beyond
the
bridge
,
in
the
unearthly
blue
?
And
quietly
—
heavily
—
like
an
irrevocable
sentence
,
there
came
,
breathed
to
him
as
it
were
from
that
winter
cold
and
loneliness
,
words
that
he
had
read
an
hour
or
two
before
,
in
the
little
red
book
beside
his
hand
—
words
in
which
the
gayest
of
French
poets
has
fixed
,
as
though
by
accident
,
the
most
tragic
of
all
human
cries
—
'
Quittez
le
long
espoir
,
et
les
vastes
pensées
.
'
He
sank
on
his
knees
,
wrestling
with
himself
and
with
the
bitter
longing
for
life
,
and
the
same
words
rang
through
him
,
deafening
every
cry
but
their
own
.
'
Quittez
—
quittez
—
le
long
espoir
et
les
vastes
pensées
!
'
CHAPTER
LI
There
is
little
more
to
tell
.
The
man
who
had
lived
so
fast
was
no
long
time
dying
.
The
eager
soul
was
swift
in
this
as
in
all
else
.
The
day
after
Elsmere
's
return
from
Murewell
,
where
he
left
the
squire
still
alive
(
the
telegram
announcing
the
death
reached
Bedford
Square
a
few
hours
after
Robert
's
arrival
)
,
Edmondson
came
up
to
see
him
and
examine
him
.
He
discovered
tubercular
disease
of
the
larynx
,
which
begins
with
slight
hoarseness
and
weakness
,
and
develops
into
one
of
the
most
rapid
forms
of
phthisis
.
In
his
opinion
it
had
been
originally
set
up
by
the
effects
of
the
chill
at
Petites
Dalles
acting
upon
a
constitution
never
strong
,
and
at
that
moment
peculiarly
susceptible
to
mischief
.
And
of
course
the
speaking
and
preaching
of
the
last
four
months
had
done
enormous
harm
.
It
was
with
great
outward
composure
that
Elsmere
received
his
arrêt
de
mort
at
the
hands
of
the
young
doctor
,
who
announced
the
result
of
his
examination
with
a
hesitating
lip
and
a
voice
which
struggled
in
vain
to
preserve
its
professional
calm
.
He
knew
too
much
of
medicine
himself
to
be
deceived
by
Edmondson
's
optimist
remarks
as
to
the
possible
effect
of
a
warm
climate
like
Algiers
on
his
condition
.
He
sat
down
,
resting
his
head
on
his
hands
a
moment
;
then
,
wringing
Edmondson
's
hand
,
he
went
out
feebly
to
find
his
wife
.
Catherine
had
been
waiting
in
the
dining-room
,
her
whole
soul
one
dry
tense
misery
.
She
stood
looking
out
of
the
window
taking
curious
heed
of
a
Jewish
wedding
that
was
going
on
in
the
square
,
of
the
preposterous
bouquets
of
the
coachman
and
the
gaping
circle
of
errand-boys
.
How
pinched
the
bride
looked
in
the
north
wind
!
When
the
door
opened
and
Catherine
saw
her
husband
come
in
—
her
young
husband
,
to
whom
she
had
been
married
not
yet
four
years
—
with
that
indescribable
look
in
the
eyes
which
seemed
to
divine
and
confirm
all
those
terrors
which
had
been
shaking
her
during
her
agonised
waiting
,
there
followed
a
moment
between
them
which
words
cannot
render
.
When
it
ended
—
that
half-articulate
convulsion
of
love
and
anguish
—
she
found
herself
sitting
on
the
sofa
beside
him
,
his
head
on
her
breast
,
his
hand
clasping
hers
.
'
Do
you
wish
me
to
go
,
Catherine
?
'
he
asked
her
gently
,
—
'
to
Algiers
?
'
Her
eyes
implored
for
her
.
'
Then
I
will
,
'
he
said
,
but
with
a
long
sigh
.
'
It
will
only
prolong
it
two
months
,
'
he
thought
;
'
and
does
one
not
owe
it
to
the
people
for
whom
one
has
tried
to
live
,
to
make
a
brave
end
among
them
?
Ah
,
no
!
no
!
those
two
months
are
hers
!
'
So
,
without
any
outward
resistance
,
he
let
the
necessary
preparations
be
made
.
It
wrung
his
heart
to
go
,
but
he
could
not
wring
hers
by
staying
.
After
his
interview
with
Robert
,
and
his
further
interview
with
Catherine
,
to
whom
he
gave
the
most
minute
recommendations
and
directions
,
with
a
reverent
gentleness
which
seemed
to
make
the
true
state
of
the
case
more
ghastly
plain
to
the
wife
than
ever
,
Edmondson
went
off
to
Flaxman
.
Flaxman
heard
his
news
with
horror
.
'
A
bad
case
,
you
say
—
advanced
?
'
'
A
bad
case
!
'
Edmondson
repeated
gloomily
.
'
He
has
been
fighting
against
it
too
long
under
that
absurd
delusion
of
clergyman
's
throat
.
If
only
men
would
not
insist
upon
being
their
own
doctors
!
And
,
of
course
,
that
going
down
to
Murewell
the
other
day
was
madness
.
I
shall
go
with
him
to
Algiers
,
and
probably
stay
a
week
or
two
.
To
think
of
that
life
,
that
career
,
cut
short
!
This
is
a
queer
sort
of
world
!
'
When
Flaxman
went
over
to
Bedford
Square
in
the
afternoon
,
he
went
like
a
man
going
himself
to
execution
.
In
the
hall
he
met
Catherine
.
'
You
have
seen
Dr.
Edmondson
?
'
she
asked
,
pale
and
still
,
except
for
a
little
nervous
quivering
of
the
lip
.
He
stooped
and
kissed
her
hand
.
'
Yes
.
He
says
he
goes
with
you
to
Algiers
.
I
will
come
after
if
you
will
have
me
.
The
climate
may
do
wonders
.
'
She
looked
at
him
with
the
most
heart-rending
of
smiles
.
'
Will
you
go
in
to
Robert
?
He
is
in
the
study
.
'
He
went
,
in
trepidation
,
and
found
Robert
lying
tucked
up
on
the
sofa
,
apparently
reading
.
'
Do
n't
—
do
n't
,
old
fellow
,
'
he
said
affectionately
,
as
Flaxman
almost
broke
down
.
'
It
comes
to
all
of
us
sooner
or
later
.
Whenever
it
comes
we
think
it
too
soon
.
I
believe
I
have
been
sure
of
it
for
some
time
.
We
are
such
strange
creatures
!
It
has
been
so
present
to
me
lately
that
life
was
too
good
to
last
.
You
remember
the
sort
of
feeling
one
used
to
have
as
a
child
about
some
treat
in
the
distance
—
that
it
was
too
much
joy
—
that
something
was
sure
to
come
between
you
and
it
?
Well
,
in
a
sense
,
I
have
had
my
joy
,
the
first-fruits
of
it
at
least
.
'
But
as
he
threw
his
arms
behind
his
head
,
leaning
back
on
them
,
Flaxman
saw
the
eyes
darken
and
the
naïve
boyish
mouth
contract
,
and
knew
that
under
all
these
brave
words
there
was
a
heart
which
hungered
.
'
How
strange
!
'
Robert
went
on
reflectively
;
'
yesterday
I
was
travelling
,
walking
like
other
men
,
a
member
of
society
.
To-day
I
am
an
invalid
;
in
the
true
sense
,
a
man
no
longer
.
The
world
has
done
with
me
;
a
barrier
I
shall
never
recross
has
sprung
up
between
me
and
it
.
—
Flaxman
,
to-night
is
the
story-telling
.
Will
you
read
to
them
?
I
have
the
book
here
prepared
—
some
scenes
from
David
Copperfield
.
And
you
will
tell
them
?
'
A
hard
task
,
but
Flaxman
undertook
it
.
Never
did
he
forget
the
scene
.
Some
ominous
rumour
had
spread
,
and
the
New
Brotherhood
was
besieged
.
Impossible
to
give
the
reading
.
A
hall
full
of
strained
upturned
faced
listened
to
Flaxman
's
announcement
,
and
to
Elsmere
's
messages
of
cheer
and
exhortation
,
and
then
a
wild
wave
of
grief
spread
through
the
place
.
The
street
outside
was
blocked
,
men
looking
dismally
into
each
other
's
eyes
,
women
weeping
,
children
sobbing
for
sympathy
,
all
feeling
themselves
at
once
shelterless
and
forsaken
.
When
Elsmere
heard
the
news
of
it
,
he
turned
on
his
face
,
and
asked
even
Catherine
to
leave
him
for
a
while
.
The
preparations
were
pushed
on
.
The
New
Brotherhood
had
just
become
the
subject
of
an
animated
discussion
in
the
press
,
and
London
was
touched
by
the
news
of
its
young
founder
's
breakdown
.
Catherine
found
herself
besieged
by
offers
of
help
of
various
kinds
.
One
offer
Flaxman
persuaded
her
to
accept
.
It
was
the
loan
of
a
villa
at
El
Biar
,
on
the
hill
above
Algiers
,
belonging
to
a
connection
of
his
own
.
A
resident
on
the
spot
was
to
take
all
trouble
off
their
hands
;
they
were
to
find
servants
ready
for
them
,
and
every
comfort
.
Catherine
made
every
arrangement
,
met
every
kindness
,
with
a
self-reliant
calm
that
never
failed
.
But
it
seemed
to
Flaxman
that
her
heart
was
broken
—
that
half
of
her
,
in
feeling
,
was
already
on
the
other
side
of
this
horror
which
stared
them
all
in
the
face
.
Was
it
his
perception
of
it
which
stirred
Robert
after
a
while
to
a
greater
hopefulness
of
speech
,
a
constant
bright
dwelling
on
the
flowery
sunshine
for
which
they
were
about
to
exchange
the
fog
and
cold
of
London
?
The
momentary
revival
of
energy
was
more
pitiful
to
Flaxman
than
his
first
quiet
resignation
.
He
himself
wrote
every
day
to
Rose
.
Strange
love-letters
!
in
which
the
feeling
that
could
not
be
avowed
ran
as
a
fiery
under-current
through
all
the
sad
brotherly
record
of
the
invalid
's
doings
and
prospects
.
There
was
deep
trouble
in
Long
Whindale
.
Mrs.
Leyburn
was
tearful
and
hysterical
,
and
wished
to
rush
off
to
town
to
see
Catherine
.
Agnes
wrote
in
distress
that
her
mother
was
quite
unfit
to
travel
,
showing
her
own
inner
conviction
,
too
,
that
the
poor
thing
would
only
be
an
extra
burden
on
the
Elsmeres
if
the
journey
were
achieved
.
Rose
wrote
asking
to
be
allowed
to
go
with
them
to
Algiers
;
and
after
a
little
consultation
it
was
so
arranged
,
Mrs.
Leyburn
being
tenderly
persuaded
,
Robert
himself
writing
,
to
stay
where
she
was
.
The
morning
after
the
interview
with
Edmondson
,
Robert
sent
for
Murray
Edwardes
.
They
were
closeted
together
for
nearly
an
hour
.
Edwardes
came
out
with
the
look
of
one
who
has
been
lifted
into
'
heavenly
places
.
'
'
I
thank
God
,
'
he
said
to
Catherine
,
with
deep
emotion
,
'
that
I
ever
knew
him
.
I
pray
that
I
may
be
found
worthy
to
carry
out
my
pledges
to
him
.
'
When
Catherine
went
into
the
study
she
found
Robert
gazing
into
the
fire
with
dreamy
eyes
.
He
started
and
looked
up
to
her
with
a
smile
.
'
Murray
Edwardes
has
promised
himself
heart
and
soul
to
the
work
.
If
necessary
,
he
will
give
up
his
chapel
to
carry
it
on
.
But
we
hope
it
will
be
possible
to
work
them
together
.
What
a
brick
he
is
!
What
a
blessed
chance
it
was
that
took
me
to
that
breakfast
party
at
Flaxman
's
!
'
The
rest
of
the
time
before
departure
he
spent
almost
entirely
in
consultation
and
arrangement
with
Edwardes
.
It
was
terrible
how
rapidly
worse
he
seemed
to
grow
directly
the
situation
had
declared
itself
,
and
the
determination
not
to
be
ill
had
been
perforce
overthrown
.
But
his
struggle
against
breathlessness
and
weakness
,
and
all
the
other
symptoms
of
his
state
during
these
last
days
,
was
heroic
.
On
the
last
day
of
all
,
by
his
own
persistent
wish
,
a
certain
number
of
members
of
the
Brotherhood
came
to
say
good-bye
to
him
.
They
came
in
one
by
one
,
Macdonald
first
.
The
old
Scotchman
,
from
the
height
of
his
sixty
years
of
tough
weather-beaten
manhood
,
looked
down
on
Robert
with
a
fatherly
concern
.
'
Eh
,
Mister
Elsmere
,
but
it
's
a
fine
place
yur
gawin
'
tu
,
they
say
.
Ye
'll
do
weel
there
,
sir
—
ye
'll
do
weel
.
And
as
for
the
wark
,
sir
,
we
'll
keep
it
oop
—
we
'll
not
let
the
Deil
mak
'
hay
o
'
it
,
if
we
knaws
it
—
the
auld
leer
!
'
he
added
,
with
a
phraseology
which
did
more
honour
to
the
Calvinism
of
his
blood
than
the
philosophy
of
his
training
.
Lestrange
came
in
,
with
a
pale
sharp
face
,
and
said
little
in
his
ten
minutes
.
But
Robert
divined
in
him
a
sort
of
repressed
curiosity
and
excitement
akin
to
that
of
Voltaire
turning
his
feverish
eyes
towards
le
grand
secret
.
'
You
,
who
preached
to
us
that
consciousness
,
and
God
,
and
the
soul
are
the
only
realities
—
are
you
so
sure
of
it
now
you
are
dying
,
as
you
were
in
health
?
Are
your
courage
,
your
certainty
,
what
they
were
?
'
These
were
the
sort
of
questions
that
seemed
to
underlie
the
man
's
spoken
words
.
There
was
something
trying
in
it
,
but
Robert
did
his
best
to
put
aside
his
consciousness
of
it
.
He
thanked
him
for
his
help
in
the
past
,
and
implored
him
to
stand
by
the
young
society
and
Mr.
Edwardes
.
'
I
shall
hardly
come
back
,
Lestrange
.
But
what
does
one
man
matter
?
One
soldier
falls
,
another
presses
forward
.
'
The
watchmaker
rose
,
then
paused
a
moment
,
a
flush
passing
over
him
.
'
We
ca
n't
stand
without
you
!
'
he
said
abruptly
;
then
,
seeing
Robert
's
look
of
distress
,
he
seemed
to
cast
about
for
something
reassuring
to
say
,
but
could
find
nothing
.
Robert
at
last
held
out
his
hand
with
a
smile
,
and
he
went
.
He
left
Elsmere
struggling
with
a
pang
of
horrible
depression
.
In
reality
there
was
no
man
who
worked
harder
at
the
New
Brotherhood
during
the
months
that
followed
than
Lestrange
.
He
worked
under
perpetual
protest
from
the
frondeur
within
him
,
but
something
stung
him
on
—
on
—
till
a
habit
had
been
formed
which
promises
to
be
the
joy
and
salvation
of
his
later
life
.
Was
it
the
haunting
memory
of
that
thin
figure
—
the
hand
clinging
to
the
chair
—
the
white
appealing
look
?
Others
came
and
went
,
till
Catherine
trembled
for
the
consequences
.
She
herself
took
in
Mrs.
Richards
and
her
children
,
comforting
the
sobbing
creatures
afterwards
with
a
calmness
born
of
her
own
despair
.
Robson
,
in
the
last
stage
himself
,
sent
him
a
grimly
characteristic
message
.
'
I
shall
solve
the
riddle
,
sir
,
before
you
.
The
doctor
gives
me
three
days
.
For
the
first
time
in
my
life
,
I
shall
know
what
you
are
still
guessing
at
.
May
the
blessing
of
one
who
never
blessed
thing
or
creature
before
he
saw
you
go
with
you
!
'
After
it
all
Robert
sank
on
the
sofa
with
a
groan
.
'
No
more
!
'
he
said
hoarsely
—
'
no
more
!
Now
for
air
—
the
sea
!
To-morrow
,
wife
,
to-morrow
!
Cras
ingens
iterabimus
æquor
.
Ah
me
!
I
leave
my
new
Salamis
behind
!
'
But
on
that
last
evening
he
insisted
on
writing
letters
to
Langham
and
Newcome
.
'
I
will
spare
Langham
the
sight
of
me
'
he
said
,
smiling
sadly
.
'
And
I
will
spare
myself
the
sight
of
Newcome
—
I
could
not
bear
it
,
I
think
!
But
I
must
say
good-bye
—
for
I
love
them
both
.
'
Next
day
,
two
hours
after
the
Elsmeres
had
left
for
Dover
,
a
cab
drove
up
to
their
house
in
Bedford
Square
,
and
Newcome
descended
from
it
.
'
Gone
,
sir
,
two
hours
ago
,
'
said
the
housemaid
,
and
the
priest
turned
away
with
an
involuntary
gesture
of
despair
.
To
his
dying
day
the
passionate
heart
bore
the
burden
of
that
'
too
late
,
'
believing
that
even
at
the
eleventh
hour
Elsmere
would
have
been
granted
to
his
prayers
.
He
might
even
have
followed
them
,
but
that
a
great
retreat
for
clergy
he
was
just
on
the
point
of
conducting
made
it
impossible
.
Flaxman
went
down
with
them
to
Dover
.
Rose
,
in
the
midst
of
all
her
new
and
womanly
care
for
her
sister
and
Robert
,
was
very
sweet
to
him
.
In
any
other
circumstances
,
he
told
himself
,
he
could
easily
have
broken
down
the
flimsy
barrier
between
them
,
but
in
those
last
twenty-four
hours
he
could
press
no
claim
of
his
own
.
When
the
steamer
cast
loose
,
the
girl
,
hanging
over
the
side
,
stood
watching
the
tall
figure
on
the
pier
against
the
gray
January
sky
.
Catherine
caught
her
look
and
attitude
,
and
could
have
cried
aloud
in
her
own
gnawing
pain
.
Flaxman
got
a
cheery
letter
from
Edmondson
describing
their
arrival
.
Their
journey
had
gone
well
;
even
the
odious
passage
from
Marseilles
had
been
tolerable
;
little
Mary
had
proved
a
model
traveller
;
the
villa
was
luxurious
,
the
weather
good
.
'
I
have
got
rooms
close
by
them
in
the
Vice-Consul
's
cottage
,
'
wrote
Edmondson
.
'
Imagine
,
within
sixty
hours
of
leaving
London
in
a
January
fog
,
finding
yourself
tramping
over
wild
marigolds
and
mignonette
,
under
a
sky
and
through
an
air
as
balmy
as
those
of
an
English
June
—
when
an
English
June
behaves
itself
.
Elsmere
's
room
overlooks
the
bay
,
the
great
plain
of
the
Metidja
dotted
with
villages
,
and
the
grand
range
of
the
Djurjura
,
backed
by
snowy
summits
one
can
hardly
tell
from
the
clouds
.
His
spirits
are
marvellous
.
He
is
plunged
in
the
history
of
Algiers
,
raving
about
one
Fromentin
,
learning
Spanish
even
!
The
wonderful
purity
and
warmth
of
the
air
seem
to
have
relieved
the
larynx
greatly
.
He
breathes
and
speaks
much
more
easily
than
when
we
left
London
.
I
sometimes
feel
when
I
look
at
him
as
though
in
this
as
in
all
else
he
were
unlike
the
common
sons
of
men
—
as
though
to
him
it
might
be
possible
to
subdue
even
this
fell
disease
.
'
Elsmere
himself
wrote
—
'
"
I
had
not
heard
the
half
"
—
O
Flaxman
!
An
enchanted
land
—
air
,
sun
,
warmth
,
roses
,
orange
blossom
,
new
potatoes
,
green
peas
,
veiled
Eastern
beauties
,
domed
mosques
and
preaching
Mahdis
—
everything
that
feeds
the
outer
and
the
inner
man
.
To
throw
the
window
open
at
waking
to
the
depth
of
sunlit
air
between
us
and
the
curve
of
the
bay
,
is
for
the
moment
heaven
!
One
's
soul
seems
to
escape
one
,
to
pour
itself
into
the
luminous
blue
of
the
morning
.
I
am
better
—
I
breathe
again
.
'
Mary
flourishes
exceedingly
.
She
lives
mostly
on
oranges
,
and
has
been
adopted
by
sixty
nuns
who
inhabit
the
convent
over
the
way
,
and
sell
us
the
most
delicious
butter
and
cream
.
I
imagine
,
if
she
were
a
trifle
older
,
her
mother
would
hardly
view
the
proceedings
of
these
dear
berosaried
women
with
so
much
equanimity
.
'
As
for
Rose
,
she
writes
more
letters
than
Clarissa
,
and
receives
more
than
an
editor
of
the
Times
.
I
have
the
strongest
views
,
as
you
know
,
as
to
the
vanity
of
letter-writing
.
There
was
a
time
when
you
shared
them
,
but
there
are
circumstances
and
conjunctures
,
alas
!
in
which
no
man
can
be
sure
of
his
friend
or
his
friend
's
principles
.
Kind
friend
,
good
fellow
,
go
often
to
Elgood
Street
.
Tell
me
everything
about
everybody
.
It
is
possible
,
after
all
,
that
I
may
live
to
come
back
to
them
.
'
But
a
week
later
,
alas
!
the
letters
fell
into
a
very
different
strain
.
The
weather
had
changed
,
had
turned
indeed
damp
and
rainy
,
the
natives
of
course
declaring
that
such
gloom
and
storm
in
January
had
never
been
known
before
.
Edmondson
wrote
in
discouragement
.
Elsmere
had
had
a
touch
of
cold
,
had
been
confined
to
bed
,
and
almost
speechless
.
His
letter
was
full
of
medical
detail
,
from
which
Flaxman
gathered
that
,
in
spite
of
the
rally
of
the
first
ten
days
,
it
was
clear
that
the
disease
was
attacking
constantly
fresh
tissue
.
'
He
is
very
depressed
too
,
'
said
Edmondson
;
'
I
have
never
seen
him
so
yet
.
He
sits
and
looks
at
us
in
the
evening
sometimes
with
eyes
that
wring
one
's
heart
.
It
is
as
though
,
after
having
for
a
moment
allowed
himself
to
hope
,
he
found
it
a
doubly
hard
task
to
submit
.
'
Ah
,
that
depression
!
It
was
the
last
eclipse
through
which
a
radiant
soul
was
called
to
pass
;
but
while
it
lasted
it
was
black
indeed
.
The
implacable
reality
,
obscured
at
first
by
the
emotion
and
excitement
of
farewells
,
and
then
by
a
brief
spring
of
hope
and
returning
vigour
,
showed
itself
now
in
all
its
stern
nakedness
—
sat
down
,
as
it
were
,
eye
to
eye
with
Elsmere
—
immovable
,
ineluctable
.
There
were
certain
features
of
the
disease
itself
which
were
specially
trying
to
such
a
nature
.
The
long
silences
it
enforced
were
so
unlike
him
,
seemed
already
to
withdraw
him
so
pitifully
from
their
yearning
grasp
!
In
these
dark
days
he
would
sit
crouching
over
the
wood
fire
in
the
little
salon
,
or
lie
drawn
to
the
window
looking
out
on
the
rainstorms
bowing
the
ilexes
or
scattering
the
meshes
of
clematis
,
silent
,
almost
always
gentle
,
but
turning
sometimes
on
Catherine
,
or
on
Mary
playing
at
his
feet
,
eyes
which
,
as
Edmondson
said
,
'
wrung
the
heart
.
'
But
in
reality
,
under
the
husband
's
depression
,
and
under
the
wife
's
inexhaustible
devotion
,
a
combat
was
going
on
,
which
reached
no
third
person
,
but
was
throughout
poignant
and
tragic
to
the
highest
degree
.
Catherine
was
making
her
last
effort
,
Robert
his
last
stand
.
As
we
know
,
ever
since
that
passionate
submission
of
the
wife
which
had
thrown
her
morally
at
her
husband
's
feet
,
there
had
lingered
at
the
bottom
of
her
heart
one
last
supreme
hope
.
All
persons
of
the
older
Christian
type
attribute
a
special
importance
to
the
moment
of
death
.
While
the
man
of
science
looks
forward
to
his
last
hour
as
a
moment
of
certain
intellectual
weakness
,
and
calmly
warns
his
friends
beforehand
that
he
is
to
be
judged
by
the
utterances
of
health
and
not
by
those
of
physical
collapse
,
the
Christian
believes
that
on
the
confines
of
eternity
the
veil
of
flesh
shrouding
the
soul
grows
thin
and
transparent
,
and
that
the
glories
and
the
truths
of
Heaven
are
visible
with
a
special
clearness
and
authority
to
the
dying
.
It
was
for
this
moment
,
either
in
herself
or
in
him
,
that
Catherine
's
unconquerable
faith
had
been
patiently
and
dumbly
waiting
.
Either
she
would
go
first
,
and
death
would
wing
her
poor
last
words
to
him
with
a
magic
and
power
not
their
own
;
or
,
when
he
came
to
leave
her
,
the
veil
of
doubt
would
fall
away
perforce
from
a
spirit
as
pure
as
it
was
humble
,
and
the
eternal
light
,
the
light
of
the
Crucified
,
shine
through
.
Probably
,
if
there
had
been
no
breach
in
Robert
's
serenity
,
Catherine
's
poor
last
effort
would
have
been
much
feebler
,
briefer
,
more
hesitating
.
But
when
she
saw
him
plunged
for
a
short
space
in
mortal
discouragement
,
in
a
sombreness
that
as
the
days
went
on
had
its
points
and
crests
of
feverish
irritation
,
her
anguished
pity
came
to
the
help
of
her
creed
.
Robert
felt
himself
besieged
,
driven
within
the
citadel
,
her
being
urging
,
grappling
with
his
.
In
little
half-articulate
words
and
ways
,
in
her
attempts
to
draw
him
back
to
some
of
their
old
religious
books
and
prayers
,
in
those
kneeling
vigils
he
often
found
her
maintaining
at
night
beside
him
,
he
felt
a
persistent
attack
which
nearly
—
in
his
weakness
—
overthrew
him
.
For
'
reason
and
thought
grow
tired
like
muscles
and
nerves
.
'
Some
of
the
greatest
and
most
daring
thinkers
of
the
world
have
felt
this
pitiful
longing
to
be
at
one
with
those
who
love
them
,
at
whatever
cost
,
before
the
last
farewell
.
And
the
simpler
Christian
faith
has
still
to
create
around
it
those
venerable
associations
and
habits
which
buttress
individual
feebleness
and
diminish
the
individual
effort
.
One
early
February
morning
,
just
before
dawn
,
Robert
stretched
out
his
hand
for
his
wife
and
found
her
kneeling
beside
him
.
The
dim
mingled
light
showed
him
her
face
vaguely
—
her
clasped
hands
,
her
eyes
.
He
looked
at
her
in
silence
,
she
at
him
;
there
seemed
to
be
a
strange
shock
as
of
battle
between
them
.
Then
he
drew
her
head
down
to
him
.
'
Catherine
,
'
he
said
to
her
in
a
feeble
intense
whisper
,
'
would
you
leave
me
without
comfort
,
without
help
,
at
the
end
?
'
'
Oh
,
my
beloved
!
'
she
cried
,
under
her
breath
,
throwing
her
arms
round
him
,
'
if
you
would
but
stretch
out
your
hand
to
the
true
comfort
—
the
true
help
—
the
Lamb
of
God
sacrificed
for
us
!
'
He
stroked
her
hair
tenderly
.
'
My
weakness
might
yield
—
my
true
best
self
never
.
I
know
Whom
I
have
believed
.
Oh
,
my
darling
,
be
content
.
Your
misery
,
your
prayers
hold
me
back
from
God
—
from
that
truth
and
that
trust
which
can
alone
be
honestly
mine
.
Submit
,
my
wife
!
Leave
me
in
God
's
hands
.
'
She
raised
her
head
.
His
eyes
were
bright
with
fever
,
his
lips
trembling
,
his
whole
look
heavenly
.
She
bowed
herself
again
with
a
quiet
burst
of
tears
,
and
an
indescribable
self-abasement
.
They
had
had
their
last
struggle
,
and
once
more
he
had
conquered
!
Afterwards
the
cloud
lifted
from
him
.
Depression
and
irritation
disappeared
.
It
seemed
to
her
often
as
though
he
lay
already
on
the
breast
of
God
;
even
her
wifely
love
grew
timid
and
awestruck
.
Yet
he
did
not
talk
much
of
immortality
,
of
reunion
.
It
was
like
a
scrupulous
child
that
dares
not
take
for
granted
more
than
its
father
has
allowed
it
to
know
.
At
the
same
time
,
it
was
plain
to
those
about
him
that
the
only
realities
to
him
in
a
world
of
shadows
were
God
—
love
—
the
soul
.
One
day
he
suddenly
caught
Catherine
's
hands
,
drew
her
face
to
him
,
and
studied
it
with
his
glowing
and
hollow
eyes
,
as
though
he
would
draw
it
into
his
soul
.
'
He
made
it
,
'
he
said
hoarsely
,
as
he
let
her
go
—
'
this
love
—
this
yearning
.
And
in
life
He
only
makes
us
yearn
that
He
may
satisfy
.
He
cannot
lead
us
to
the
end
and
disappoint
the
craving
He
Himself
set
in
us
.
No
,
no
—
could
you
—
could
I
—
do
it
?
And
He
,
the
source
of
love
,
or
justice
—
—
'
Flaxman
arrived
a
few
days
afterwards
.
Edmondson
had
started
for
London
the
night
before
,
leaving
Elsmere
better
again
,
able
to
drive
and
even
walk
a
little
,
and
well
looked
after
by
a
local
doctor
of
ability
.
As
Flaxman
,
tramping
up
behind
his
carriage
,
climbed
the
long
hill
to
El
Biar
,
he
saw
the
whole
marvellous
place
in
a
white
light
of
beauty
—
the
bay
,
the
city
,
the
mountains
,
oliveyard
and
orange-grove
,
drawn
in
pale
tints
on
luminous
air
.
Suddenly
,
at
the
entrance
of
a
steep
and
narrow
lane
,
he
noticed
a
slight
figure
standing
—
a
parasol
against
the
sun
.
'
We
thought
you
would
like
to
be
shown
the
short
cut
up
the
hill
,
'
said
Rose
's
voice
,
strangely
demure
and
shy
.
'
The
man
can
drive
round
.
'
A
grip
of
the
hand
,
a
word
to
the
driver
,
and
they
were
alone
in
the
high-walled
lane
,
which
was
really
the
old
road
up
the
hill
,
before
the
French
brought
zigzags
and
civilisation
.
She
gave
him
news
of
Robert
—
better
than
he
had
expected
.
Under
the
influence
of
one
of
the
natural
reactions
that
wait
on
illness
,
the
girl
's
tone
was
cheerful
,
and
Flaxman
's
spirits
rose
.
They
talked
of
the
splendour
of
the
day
,
the
discomforts
of
the
steamer
,
the
picturesqueness
of
the
landing
—
of
anything
and
everything
but
the
hidden
something
which
was
responsible
for
the
dancing
brightness
in
his
eyes
,
the
occasional
swift
veiling
of
her
own
.
Then
,
at
an
angle
of
the
lane
,
where
a
little
spring
ran
cool
and
brown
into
a
moss-grown
trough
,
where
the
blue
broke
joyously
through
the
gray
cloud
of
olive-wood
,
where
not
a
sight
or
sound
was
to
be
heard
of
all
the
busy
life
which
hides
and
nestles
along
the
hill
,
he
stopped
,
his
hands
seizing
hers
.
'
How
long
?
'
he
said
,
flushing
,
his
light
overcoat
falling
back
from
his
strong
,
well-made
frame
;
'
from
August
to
February
—
how
long
?
'
No
more
!
It
was
most
natural
,
nay
,
inevitable
.
For
the
moment
death
stood
aside
and
love
asserted
itself
.
But
this
is
no
place
to
chronicle
what
it
said
.
And
he
had
hardly
asked
,
and
she
had
hardly
yielded
,
before
the
same
misgiving
,
the
same
shrinking
,
seized
on
the
lovers
themselves
.
They
sped
up
the
hill
,
they
crept
into
the
house
,
far
apart
.
It
was
agreed
that
neither
of
them
should
say
a
word
.
But
,
with
that
extraordinarily
quick
perception
that
sometimes
goes
with
such
a
state
as
his
,
Elsmere
had
guessed
the
position
of
things
before
he
and
Flaxman
had
been
half
an
hour
together
.
He
took
a
boyish
pleasure
in
making
his
friend
confess
himself
,
and
,
when
Flaxman
left
him
,
at
once
sent
for
Catherine
and
told
her
.
Catherine
,
coming
out
afterwards
,
met
Flaxman
in
the
little
tiled
hall
.
How
she
had
aged
and
blanched
!
She
stood
a
moment
opposite
to
him
,
in
her
plain
long
dress
with
its
white
collar
and
cuffs
,
her
face
working
a
little
.
'
We
are
so
glad
!
'
she
said
,
but
almost
with
a
sob
—
'
God
bless
you
!
'
And
,
wringing
his
hand
,
she
passed
away
from
him
,
hiding
her
eyes
,
but
without
a
sound
.
When
they
met
again
she
was
quite
self-contained
and
bright
,
talking
much
both
with
him
and
Rose
about
the
future
.
And
one
little
word
of
Rose
's
must
be
recorded
here
,
for
those
who
have
followed
her
through
these
four
years
.
It
was
at
night
,
when
Robert
,
with
smiles
,
had
driven
them
out
of
doors
to
look
at
the
moon
over
the
bay
,
from
the
terrace
just
beyond
the
windows
.
They
had
been
sitting
on
the
balustrade
talking
of
Elsmere
.
In
this
nearness
to
death
,
Rose
had
lost
her
mocking
ways
;
but
she
was
shy
and
difficult
,
and
Flaxman
felt
it
all
very
strange
,
and
did
not
venture
to
woo
her
much
.
When
,
all
at
once
,
he
felt
her
hand
steal
trembling
,
a
little
white
suppliant
,
into
his
,
and
her
face
against
his
shoulder
.
'
You
wo
n't
—
you
wo
n't
ever
be
angry
with
me
for
making
you
wait
like
that
?
It
was
impertinent
—
it
was
like
a
child
playing
tricks
!
'
Flaxman
was
deeply
shocked
by
the
change
in
Robert
.
He
was
terribly
emaciated
.
They
could
only
talk
at
rare
intervals
in
the
day
,
and
it
was
clear
that
his
nights
were
often
one
long
struggle
for
breath
.
But
his
spirits
were
extraordinarily
even
,
and
his
days
occupied
to
a
point
Flaxman
could
hardly
have
believed
.
He
would
creep
downstairs
at
eleven
,
read
his
English
letters
(
among
them
always
some
from
Elgood
Street
)
,
write
his
answers
to
them
—
those
difficult
scrawls
are
among
the
treasured
archives
of
a
society
which
is
fast
gathering
to
itself
some
of
the
best
life
in
England
—
then
often
fall
asleep
with
fatigue
.
After
food
there
would
come
a
short
drive
,
or
,
if
the
day
was
very
warm
,
an
hour
or
two
of
sitting
outside
,
generally
his
best
time
for
talking
.
He
had
a
wheeled
chair
in
which
Flaxman
would
take
him
across
to
the
convent
garden
—
a
dream
of
beauty
.
Overhead
an
orange
canopy
—
leaf
and
blossom
and
golden
fruit
all
in
simultaneous
perfection
;
underneath
a
revel
of
every
imaginable
flower
—
narcissus
and
anemones
,
geraniums
and
clematis
;
and
all
about
,
hedges
of
monthly
roses
,
dark
red
and
pale
alternately
,
making
a
roseleaf
carpet
under
their
feet
.
Through
the
tree-trunks
shone
the
white
sun-warmed
convent
,
and
far
beyond
were
glimpses
of
downward-trending
valleys
edged
by
twinkling
sea
.
Here
,
sensitive
and
receptive
to
his
last
hour
,
Elsmere
drank
in
beauty
and
delight
;
talking
,
too
,
whenever
it
was
possible
to
him
,
of
all
things
in
heaven
and
earth
.
Then
,
when
he
came
home
,
he
would
have
out
his
books
and
fall
to
some
old
critical
problem
—
his
worn
and
scored
Greek
Testament
always
beside
him
,
the
quick
eye
making
its
way
through
some
new
monograph
or
other
,
the
parched
lips
opening
every
now
and
then
to
call
Flaxman
's
attention
to
some
fresh
light
on
an
obscure
point
—
only
to
relinquish
the
effort
again
and
again
with
an
unfailing
patience
.
But
though
he
would
begin
as
ardently
as
ever
,
he
could
not
keep
his
attention
fixed
to
these
things
very
long
.
Then
it
would
be
the
turn
of
his
favourite
poets
—
Wordsworth
,
Tennyson
,
Virgil
.
Virgil
perhaps
most
frequently
.
Flaxman
would
read
the
Æneid
aloud
to
him
,
Robert
following
the
passages
he
loved
best
in
a
whisper
,
his
hand
resting
the
while
in
Catherine
's
.
And
then
Mary
would
be
