!It
is
a
nightmare
—
I
am
weak
still
,
I
suppose
;
I
do
n't
know
myself
;
but
I
can
see
nothing
but
jarred
,
tortured
creatures
everywhere
.
All
my
own
joys
and
comforts
seem
to
lift
me
selfishly
above
the
common
lot
.
'
She
stopped
,
her
large
gray-blue
eyes
dim
with
tears
,
trying
once
more
for
that
habitual
self-restraint
which
physical
weakness
had
shaken
.
'
You
are
weak
,
'
he
said
,
caressing
her
,
'
and
that
destroys
for
a
time
the
normal
balance
of
things
.
It
is
true
,
darling
,
but
we
are
not
meant
to
see
it
always
so
clearly
.
God
knows
we
could
not
bear
it
if
we
did
.
'
'
And
to
think
,
'
she
said
,
shuddering
a
little
,
'
that
there
are
men
and
women
who
in
the
face
of
it
can
still
refuse
Christ
and
the
Cross
,
can
still
say
this
life
is
all
!
How
can
they
live
—
how
dare
they
live
?
'
Then
he
saw
that
not
only
man
's
pain
,
but
man
's
defiance
,
had
been
haunting
her
,
and
he
guessed
what
persons
and
memories
had
been
flitting
through
her
mind
.
But
he
dared
not
talk
lest
she
should
exhaust
herself
.
Presently
,
seeing
a
volume
of
Augustine
's
Confessions
,
her
favourite
book
,
lying
beside
her
,
he
took
it
up
,
turning
over
the
pages
,
and
weaving
passages
together
as
they
caught
his
eye
.
'
Speak
to
me
,
for
Thy
compassion
's
sake
,
O
Lord
my
God
,
and
tell
me
what
art
Thou
to
me
!
Say
unto
my
soul
,
"
I
am
thy
salvation
!
"
Speak
it
that
I
may
hear
.
Behold
the
ears
of
my
heart
,
O
Lord
;
open
them
and
say
unto
my
soul
,
"
I
am
thy
salvation
!
"
I
will
follow
after
this
voice
of
Thine
,
I
will
lay
hold
on
Thee
.
The
temple
of
my
soul
,
wherein
Thou
shouldest
enter
,
is
narrow
,
do
Thou
enlarge
it
.
It
falleth
into
ruins
—
do
Thou
rebuild
it
!
...
Woe
to
that
bold
soul
which
hopeth
,
if
it
do
but
let
Thee
go
,
to
find
something
better
than
Thee
!
It
turneth
hither
and
thither
,
on
this
side
and
on
that
,
and
all
things
are
hard
and
bitter
unto
it
.
For
Thou
only
art
rest
!
...
Whithersoever
the
soul
of
man
turneth
it
findeth
sorrow
,
except
only
in
Thee
.
Fix
there
,
then
,
thy
resting-place
,
my
soul
!
Lay
up
in
Him
whatever
thou
hast
received
from
Him
.
Commend
to
the
keeping
of
the
Truth
whatever
the
Truth
hath
given
thee
,
and
thou
shalt
lost
nothing
.
And
thy
dead
things
shall
revive
and
thy
weak
things
shall
be
made
whole
!
'
She
listened
,
appropriating
and
clinging
to
every
word
,
till
the
nervous
clasp
of
the
long
delicate
fingers
relaxed
,
her
head
dropped
a
little
,
gently
,
against
the
head
of
the
child
,
and
tired
with
much
feeling
she
slept
.
Robert
slipped
away
and
strolled
out
into
the
garden
in
the
fast-gathering
darkness
.
His
mind
was
full
of
that
intense
spiritual
life
of
Catherine
's
which
in
its
wonderful
self-containedness
and
strength
was
always
a
marvel
,
sometimes
a
reproach
,
to
him
.
Beside
her
,
he
seemed
to
himself
a
light
creature
,
drawn
hither
and
thither
by
this
interest
and
by
that
,
tangled
in
the
fleeting
shows
of
things
—
the
toy
and
plaything
of
circumstance
.
He
thought
ruefully
and
humbly
,
as
he
wandered
on
through
the
dusk
,
of
his
own
lack
of
inwardness
:
'
Everything
divides
me
from
Thee
!
'
he
could
have
cried
in
St.
Augustine
's
manner
.
'
Books
,
and
friends
,
and
work
—
all
seem
to
hide
Thee
from
me
.
Why
am
I
so
passionate
for
this
and
that
,
for
all
these
sections
and
fragments
of
Thee
?
Oh
,
for
the
One
,
the
All
!
Fix
there
thy
resting-place
,
my
soul
!
'
And
presently
,
after
this
cry
of
self-reproach
,
he
turned
to
muse
on
that
intuition
of
the
world
's
pain
which
had
been
troubling
Catherine
,
shrinking
from
it
even
more
than
she
had
shrunk
from
it
,
in
proportion
as
his
nature
was
more
imaginative
than
hers
.
And
Christ
the
only
clue
,
the
only
remedy
—
no
other
anywhere
in
this
vast
universe
,
where
all
men
are
under
sentence
of
death
,
where
the
whole
creation
groaneth
and
travaileth
in
pain
together
until
now
!
And
yet
what
countless
generations
of
men
had
borne
their
pain
,
knowing
nothing
of
the
one
Healer
.
He
thought
of
Buddhist
patience
and
Buddhist
charity
;
of
the
long
centuries
during
which
Chaldean
or
Persian
or
Egyptian
lived
,
suffered
,
and
died
,
trusting
the
gods
they
knew
.
And
how
many
other
generations
,
nominally
children
of
the
Great
Hope
,
had
used
it
as
the
mere
instrument
of
passion
or
of
hate
,
cursing
in
the
name
of
love
,
destroying
in
the
name
of
pity
!
For
how
much
of
the
world
's
pain
was
not
Christianity
itself
responsible
?
His
thoughts
recurred
with
a
kind
of
anguished
perplexity
to
some
of
the
problems
stirred
in
him
of
late
by
his
historical
reading
.
The
strifes
and
feuds
and
violences
of
the
early
Church
returned
to
weigh
upon
him
—
the
hair-splitting
superstition
,
the
selfish
passion
for
power
.
He
recalled
Gibbon
's
lamentation
over
the
age
of
the
Antonines
,
and
Mommsen
's
grave
doubt
whether
,
taken
as
a
whole
,
the
area
once
covered
by
the
Roman
Empire
can
be
said
to
be
substantially
happier
now
than
in
the
days
of
Severus
.
O
corruptio
optimi
!
That
men
should
have
been
so
little
affected
by
that
shining
ideal
of
the
New
Jerusalem
,
'
descended
out
of
Heaven
from
God
,
'
into
their
very
midst
—
that
the
print
of
the
'
blessed
feet
'
along
the
world
's
highway
should
have
been
so
often
buried
in
the
sands
of
cruelty
and
fraud
!
The
September
wind
blew
about
him
as
he
strolled
through
the
darkening
column
,
set
thick
with
great
bushes
of
sombre
juniper
among
the
yellowing
fern
,
which
stretched
away
on
the
left-hand
side
of
the
road
leading
to
the
Hall
.
He
stood
and
watched
the
masses
of
restless
discordant
cloud
which
the
sunset
had
left
behind
it
,
thinking
the
while
of
Mr.
Grey
,
of
his
assertions
and
his
denials
.
Certain
phrases
of
his
which
Robert
had
heard
drop
from
him
on
one
or
two
rare
occasions
during
the
later
stages
of
his
Oxford
life
ran
through
his
head
.
'
The
fairy-tale
of
Christianity
'
—
'
The
origins
of
Christian
Mythology
.
'
He
could
recall
,
as
the
words
rose
in
his
memory
,
the
simplicity
of
the
rugged
face
,
and
the
melancholy
mingled
with
fire
which
had
always
marked
the
great
tutor
's
sayings
about
religion
.
'
Fairy
Tale
!
'
Could
any
reasonable
man
watch
a
life
like
Catherine
's
and
believe
that
nothing
but
a
delusion
lay
at
the
heart
of
it
?
And
as
he
asked
the
question
,
he
seemed
to
hear
Mr.
Grey
's
answer
:
'
All
religions
are
true
,
and
all
are
false
.
In
them
all
,
more
or
less
visibly
,
man
grasps
at
the
one
thing
needful
—
self
forsaken
,
God
laid
hold
of
.
The
spirit
in
them
all
is
the
same
,
answers
eternally
to
reality
;
it
is
but
the
letter
,
the
fashion
,
the
imagery
,
that
are
relative
and
changing
.
'
He
turned
and
walked
homeward
,
struggling
,
with
a
host
of
tempestuous
ideas
as
swift
and
varying
as
the
autumn
clouds
hurrying
overhead
.
And
then
,
through
a
break
in
a
line
of
trees
,
he
caught
sight
of
the
tower
and
chancel
window
of
the
little
church
.
In
an
instant
he
had
a
vision
of
early
summer
mornings
—
dewy
,
perfumed
,
silent
,
save
for
the
birds
,
and
all
the
soft
stir
of
rural
birth
and
growth
,
of
a
chancel
fragrant
with
many
flowers
,
of
a
distant
church
with
scattered
figures
,
of
the
kneeling
form
of
his
wife
close
beside
him
,
himself
bending
over
her
,
the
sacrament
of
the
Lord
's
death
in
his
hand
.
The
emotion
,
the
intensity
,
the
absolute
self-surrender
of
innumerable
such
moments
in
the
past
—
moments
of
a
common
faith
,
a
common
self-abasement
—
came
flooding
back
upon
him
.
With
a
movement
of
joy
and
penitence
he
threw
himself
at
the
feet
of
Catherine
's
Master
and
his
own
:
'
Fix
there
thy
resting-place
,
my
soul
!
'
CHAPTER
XX
Catherine
's
later
convalescence
dwelt
in
her
mind
in
after
years
as
a
time
of
peculiar
softness
and
peace
.
Her
baby-girl
throve
;
Robert
had
driven
the
squire
and
Henslowe
out
of
his
mind
,
and
was
all
eagerness
as
to
certain
negotiations
with
a
famous
naturalist
for
a
lecture
at
the
village
club
.
At
Mile
End
,
as
though
to
put
the
rector
in
the
wrong
,
serious
illness
had
for
the
time
disappeared
;
and
Mrs.
Leyburn
's
mild
chatter
,
as
she
gently
poked
about
the
house
and
garden
,
went
out
in
Catherine
's
pony-carriage
,
inspected
Catherine
's
stores
,
and
hovered
over
Catherine
's
babe
,
had
a
constantly
cheering
effect
on
the
still
languid
mother
.
Like
all
theorists
,
especially
those
at
second-hand
,
Mrs.
Leyburn
's
maxims
had
been
very
much
routed
by
the
event
.
The
babe
had
ailments
she
did
not
understand
,
or
it
developed
likes
and
dislikes
she
had
forgotten
existed
in
babies
,
and
Mrs.
Leyburn
was
nonplussed
.
She
would
sit
with
it
on
her
lap
,
anxiously
studying
its
peculiarities
.
She
was
sure
it
squinted
,
that
its
back
was
weaker
than
other
babies
,
that
it
cried
more
than
hers
had
ever
done
.
She
loved
to
be
plaintive
;
it
would
have
seemed
to
her
unladylike
to
be
too
cheerful
,
even
over
a
first
grandchild
.
Agnes
meanwhile
made
herself
practically
useful
,
as
was
her
way
,
and
she
did
almost
more
than
anybody
to
beguile
Catherine
's
recovery
by
her
hours
of
Long
Whindale
chat
.
She
had
no
passionate
feeling
about
the
place
and
the
people
as
Catherine
had
,
but
she
was
easily
content
,
and
she
had
a
good
wholesome
feminine
curiosity
as
to
the
courtings
and
weddings
and
buryings
of
the
human
beings
about
her
.
So
she
would
sit
and
chat
,
working
the
while
with
the
quickest
,
neatest
of
fingers
,
till
Catherine
knew
as
much
about
Jenny
Tyson
's
Whinborough
lover
,
and
Farmer
Tredall
's
troubles
with
his
son
,
and
the
way
in
which
that
odious
woman
Molly
Redgold
bullied
her
little
consumptive
husband
,
as
Agnes
knew
,
which
was
saying
a
good
deal
.
About
themselves
Agnes
was
frankness
itself
.
'
Since
you
went
,
'
she
would
say
with
a
shrug
,
'
I
keep
the
coach
steady
,
perhaps
,
but
Rose
drives
,
and
we
shall
have
to
go
where
she
takes
us
.
By
the
way
,
Cathie
,
what
have
you
been
doing
to
her
here
?
She
is
not
a
bit
like
herself
.
I
do
n't
generally
mind
being
snubbed
.
It
amuses
her
and
does
n't
hurt
me
;
and
,
of
course
,
I
know
I
am
meant
to
be
her
foil
.
But
,
really
,
sometimes
she
is
too
bad
even
for
me
.
'
Catherine
sighed
,
but
held
her
peace
.
Like
all
strong
persons
,
she
kept
things
very
much
to
herself
.
It
only
made
vexations
more
real
to
talk
about
them
.
But
she
and
Agnes
discussed
the
winter
and
Berlin
.
'
You
had
better
let
her
go
,
'
said
Agnes
significantly
;
'
she
will
go
anyhow
.
'
A
few
days
afterwards
Catherine
,
opening
the
drawing-room
door
unexpectedly
,
came
upon
Rose
sitting
idly
at
the
piano
,
her
hands
resting
on
the
keys
,
and
her
great
gray
eyes
straining
out
of
her
white
face
with
an
expression
which
sent
the
sister
's
heart
into
her
shoes
.
'
How
you
steal
about
,
Catherine
!
'
cried
the
player
,
getting
up
and
shutting
the
piano
.
'
I
declare
you
are
just
like
Millais
's
Gray
Lady
in
that
ghostly
gown
.
'
Catherine
came
swiftly
across
the
floor
.
She
had
just
left
her
child
,
and
the
sweet
dignity
of
motherhood
was
in
her
step
,
her
look
.
She
came
and
threw
her
arms
round
the
girl
.
'
Rose
,
dear
,
I
have
settled
it
all
with
mamma
.
The
money
can
be
managed
,
and
you
shall
go
to
Berlin
for
the
winter
when
you
like
.
'
She
drew
herself
back
a
little
,
still
with
her
arms
round
Rose
's
waist
,
and
looked
at
her
smiling
,
to
see
how
she
took
it
.
Rose
had
a
strange
movement
of
irritation
.
She
drew
herself
out
of
Catherine
's
grasp
.
'
I
do
n't
know
that
I
had
settled
on
Berlin
,
'
she
said
coldly
.
'
Very
possibly
Leipsic
would
be
better
.
'
Catherine
's
face
fell
.
'
Whichever
you
like
,
dear
.
I
have
been
thinking
about
it
ever
since
that
day
you
spoke
of
it
—
you
remember
—
and
now
I
have
talked
it
over
with
mamma
.
If
she
ca
n't
manage
all
the
expense
we
will
help
.
Oh
,
Rose
,
'
and
she
came
nearer
again
,
timidly
,
her
eyes
melting
,
'
I
know
we
have
n't
understood
each
other
.
I
have
been
ignorant
,
I
think
,
and
narrow
.
But
I
meant
it
for
the
best
,
dear
—
I
did
—
—
'
Her
voice
failed
her
,
but
in
her
look
there
seemed
to
be
written
the
history
of
all
the
prayers
and
yearnings
of
her
youth
over
the
pretty
wayward
child
who
had
been
her
joy
and
torment
.
Rose
could
not
but
meet
that
look
—
its
nobleness
,
its
humble
surrender
.
Suddenly
two
large
tears
rolled
down
her
cheeks
.
She
dashed
them
away
impatiently
.
'
I
am
not
a
bit
well
,
'
she
said
,
as
though
in
irritable
excuse
both
to
herself
and
Catherine
.
'
I
believe
I
have
had
a
headache
for
a
fortnight
.
'
And
then
she
put
her
arms
down
on
a
table
near
and
hid
her
face
upon
them
.
She
was
one
bundle
of
jarring
nerves
—
sore
,
poor
passionate
child
,
that
she
was
betraying
herself
;
sorer
still
that
,
as
she
told
herself
,
Catherine
was
sending
her
to
Berlin
as
a
consolation
.
When
girls
have
love-troubles
the
first
thing
their
elders
do
is
to
look
for
a
diversion
.
She
felt
sick
and
humiliated
.
Catherine
had
been
talking
her
over
with
the
family
,
she
supposed
.
Meanwhile
Catherine
stood
by
her
tenderly
,
stroking
her
hair
and
saying
soothing
things
.
'
I
am
sure
you
will
be
happy
at
Berlin
,
Rose
.
And
you
must
n't
leave
me
out
of
your
life
,
dear
,
though
I
am
so
stupid
and
unmusical
.
You
must
write
to
me
about
all
you
do
.
We
must
begin
a
new
time
.
Oh
,
I
feel
so
guilty
sometimes
,
'
she
went
on
,
falling
into
a
low
intensity
of
voice
that
startled
Rose
,
and
made
her
look
hurriedly
up
.
'
I
fought
against
your
music
,
I
suppose
,
because
I
thought
it
was
devouring
you
—
leaving
no
room
for
—
for
religion
—
for
God
.
I
was
jealous
of
it
for
Christ
's
sake
.
And
all
the
time
I
was
blundering
!
Oh
,
Rose
,
'
and
she
sank
on
her
knees
beside
the
chair
,
resting
her
head
against
the
girl
's
shoulder
,
'
papa
charged
me
to
make
you
love
God
,
and
I
torture
myself
with
thinking
that
,
instead
,
it
has
been
my
doing
,
my
foolish
clumsy
doing
,
that
you
have
come
to
think
religion
dull
and
hard
.
Oh
,
my
darling
,
if
I
could
make
amends
—
if
I
could
get
you
not
to
love
your
art
less
but
to
love
it
in
God
!
Christ
is
the
first
reality
;
all
things
else
are
real
and
lovely
in
Him
.
Oh
,
I
have
been
frightening
you
away
from
Him
!
I
ought
to
have
drawn
you
near
.
I
have
been
so
—
so
silent
,
so
shut
up
,
I
have
never
tried
to
make
you
feel
what
it
was
kept
me
at
His
feet
!
Oh
,
Rose
,
darling
,
you
think
the
world
real
,
and
pleasure
and
enjoyment
real
.
But
if
I
could
have
made
you
see
and
know
the
things
I
have
seen
up
in
the
mountains
—
among
the
poor
,
the
dying
—
you
would
have
felt
Him
saving
,
redeeming
,
interceding
,
as
I
did
.
Oh
,
then
you
must
,
you
would
have
known
that
Christ
only
is
real
,
that
our
joys
can
only
truly
exist
in
Him
.
I
should
have
been
more
open
—
more
faithful
—
more
humble
.
'
She
paused
with
a
long
quivering
sigh
.
Rose
suddenly
lifted
herself
,
and
they
fell
into
each
other
's
arms
.
Rose
,
shaken
and
excited
,
thought
,
of
course
,
of
that
night
at
Burwood
,
when
she
had
won
leave
to
go
to
Manchester
.
This
scene
was
the
sequel
to
that
—
the
next
stage
in
one
and
the
same
process
.
Her
feeling
was
much
the
same
as
that
of
the
naturalist
who
comes
close
to
any
of
the
hidden
operations
of
life
.
She
had
come
near
to
Catherine
's
spirit
in
the
growing
.
Beside
that
sweet
expansion
,
how
poor
and
feverish
and
earth-stained
the
poor
child
felt
herself
!
But
there
were
many
currents
in
Rose
—
many
things
striving
for
the
mastery
.
She
kissed
Catherine
once
or
twice
,
then
she
drew
herself
back
suddenly
,
looking
into
the
other
's
face
.
A
great
wave
of
feeling
rushed
up
and
broke
.
'
Catherine
,
could
you
ever
have
married
a
man
that
did
not
believe
in
Christ
?
'
She
flung
the
question
out
—
a
kind
of
morbid
curiosity
,
a
wild
wish
to
find
an
outlet
of
some
sort
for
things
pent
up
in
her
,
driving
her
on
.
Catherine
started
.
But
she
met
Rose
's
half-frowning
eyes
steadily
.
'
Never
,
Rose
!
To
me
it
would
not
be
marriage
.
'
The
child
's
face
lost
its
softness
.
She
drew
one
hand
away
.
'
What
have
we
to
do
with
it
?
'
she
cried
.
'
Each
one
for
himself
.
'
'
But
marriage
makes
two
one
,
'
said
Catherine
,
pale
,
but
with
a
firm
clearness
.
'
And
if
husband
and
wife
are
only
one
in
body
and
estate
,
not
one
in
soul
,
why
,
who
that
believes
in
the
soul
would
accept
such
a
bond
,
endure
such
a
miserable
second
best
?
'
She
rose
.
But
though
her
voice
had
recovered
all
its
energy
,
her
attitude
,
her
look
was
still
tenderness
,
still
yearning
itself
.
'
Religion
does
not
fill
up
the
soul
,
'
said
Rose
slowly
.
Then
she
added
carelessly
,
a
passionate
red
flying
into
her
cheek
against
her
will
,
'
However
,
I
cannot
imagine
any
question
that
interests
me
personally
less
.
I
was
curious
what
you
would
say
.
'
And
she
too
got
up
,
drawing
her
hand
lightly
along
the
keyboard
of
the
piano
.
Her
pose
had
a
kind
of
defiance
in
it
;
her
knit
brows
forbade
Catherine
to
ask
questions
.
Catherine
stood
irresolute
.
Should
she
throw
herself
on
her
sister
,
imploring
her
to
speak
,
opening
her
own
heart
on
the
subject
of
this
wild
unhappy
fancy
for
a
man
who
would
never
think
again
of
the
child
he
had
played
with
?
But
the
North-country
dread
of
words
,
of
speech
that
only
defines
and
magnifies
,
prevailed
.
Let
there
be
no
words
,
but
let
her
love
and
watch
.
So
,
after
a
moment
's
pause
,
she
began
in
a
different
tone
upon
the
inquiries
she
had
been
making
,
the
arrangements
that
would
be
wanted
for
this
musical
winter
.
Rose
was
almost
listless
at
first
.
A
stranger
would
have
thought
she
was
being
persuaded
into
something
against
her
will
.
But
she
could
not
keep
it
up
.
The
natural
instinct
reasserted
itself
,
and
she
was
soon
planning
and
deciding
as
sharply
,
and
with
as
much
young
omniscience
,
as
usual
.
By
the
evening
it
was
settled
.
Mrs.
Leyburn
,
much
bewildered
,
asked
Catherine
doubtfully
,
the
last
thing
at
night
,
whether
she
wanted
Rose
to
be
a
professional
.
Catherine
exclaimed
.
'
But
,
my
dear
,
'
said
the
widow
,
staring
pensively
into
her
bedroom
fire
,
'
what
's
she
to
do
with
all
this
music
?
'
Then
after
a
second
she
added
half
severely
:
'
I
do
n't
believe
her
father
would
have
liked
it
;
I
do
n't
,
indeed
,
Catherine
!
'
Poor
Catherine
smiled
and
sighed
in
the
background
,
but
made
no
reply
.
'
However
,
she
never
looks
so
pretty
as
when
she
's
playing
the
violin
—
never
!
'
said
Mrs.
Leyburn
presently
in
the
distance
,
with
a
long
breath
of
satisfaction
.
'
She
's
got
such
a
lovely
hand
and
arm
,
Catherine
!
They
're
prettier
than
mine
,
and
even
your
father
used
to
notice
mine
.
'
'
Even
.
'
The
word
had
a
little
sound
of
bitterness
.
In
spite
of
all
his
love
,
had
the
gentle
puzzle-headed
woman
found
her
unearthly
husband
often
very
hard
to
live
with
?
Rose
meanwhile
was
sitting
up
in
bed
,
with
her
hands
round
her
knees
,
dreaming
.
So
she
had
got
her
heart
's
desire
!
There
did
not
seem
to
be
much
joy
in
the
getting
,
but
that
was
the
way
of
things
,
one
was
told
.
She
knew
she
should
hate
the
Germans
—
great
,
bouncing
,
over-fed
,
sentimental
creatures
!
Then
her
thoughts
ran
into
the
future
.
After
six
months
—
yes
,
by
April
—
she
would
be
home
,
and
Agnes
and
her
mother
could
meet
her
in
London
.
London
.
Ah
,
it
was
London
she
was
thinking
of
all
the
time
,
not
Berlin
!
She
could
not
stay
in
the
present
;
or
rather
the
Rose
of
the
present
went
straining
to
the
Rose
of
the
future
,
asking
to
be
righted
,
to
be
avenged
.
'
I
will
learn
—
I
will
learn
fast
—
many
things
besides
music
!
'
she
said
to
herself
feverishly
.
'
By
April
I
shall
be
much
cleverer
.
Oh
,
then
I
wo
n't
be
a
fool
so
easily
.
We
shall
be
sure
to
meet
,
of
course
.
But
he
shall
find
out
that
it
was
only
a
child
,
only
a
silly
soft-hearted
baby
he
played
with
down
here
.
I
sha
n't
care
for
him
in
the
least
,
of
course
not
,
not
after
six
months
.
I
do
n't
mean
to
.
And
I
will
make
him
know
it
—
oh
,
I
will
,
though
he
is
so
wise
,
and
so
much
older
,
and
mounts
on
such
stilts
when
he
pleases
!
'
So
once
more
Rose
flung
her
defiance
at
fate
.
But
when
Catherine
came
along
the
passage
an
hour
later
she
heard
low
sounds
from
Rose
's
room
,
which
ceased
abruptly
as
her
step
drew
near
.
The
elder
sister
paused
;
her
eyes
filled
with
tears
;
her
hand
closed
indignantly
.
Then
she
came
closer
,
all
but
went
in
,
thought
better
of
it
,
and
moved
away
.
If
there
is
any
truth
in
brain-waves
,
Langham
should
have
slept
restlessly
that
night
.
Ten
days
later
an
escort
had
been
found
,
all
preparations
had
been
made
,
and
Rose
was
gone
.
Mrs.
Leyburn
and
Agnes
lingered
a
while
,
and
then
they
too
departed
under
an
engagement
to
come
back
after
Christmas
for
a
long
stay
,
that
Mrs.
Leyburn
might
cheat
the
northern
spring
a
little
.
So
husband
and
wife
were
alone
again
.
How
they
relished
their
solitude
!
Catherine
took
up
many
threads
of
work
which
her
months
of
comparative
weakness
had
forced
her
to
let
drop
.
She
taught
vigorously
in
the
school
;
in
the
afternoons
,
so
far
as
her
child
would
let
her
,
she
carried
her
tender
presence
and
her
practical
knowledge
of
nursing
to
the
sick
and
feeble
;
and
on
two
evenings
in
the
week
she
and
Robert
threw
open
a
little
room
there
was
on
the
ground-floor
between
the
study
and
the
dining-room
to
the
women
and
girls
of
the
village
,
as
a
sort
of
drawing-room
.
Hard-worked
mothers
would
come
,
who
had
put
their
fretful
babes
to
sleep
,
and
given
their
lords
to
eat
,
and
had
just
energy
left
,
while
the
eldest
daughter
watched
,
and
the
men
were
at
the
club
or
the
'
Blue
Boar
,
'
to
put
on
a
clean
apron
and
climb
the
short
hill
to
the
rectory
.
Once
there
,
there
was
nothing
to
think
of
for
an
hour
but
the
bright
room
,
Catherine
's
kind
face
,
the
rector
's
jokes
,
and
the
illustrated
papers
or
the
photographs
that
were
spread
out
for
them
to
look
at
if
they
would
.
The
girls
learned
to
come
,
because
Catherine
could
teach
them
a
simple
dressmaking
,
and
was
clever
in
catching
stray
persons
to
set
them
singing
;
and
because
Mr.
Elsmere
read
exciting
stories
,
and
because
nothing
any
one
of
them
ever
told
Mrs.
Elsmere
was
forgotten
by
her
,
or
failed
to
interest
her
.
Any
of
her
social
equals
of
the
neighbourhood
would
have
hardly
recognised
the
reserved
and
stately
Catherine
on
these
occasions
.
Here
she
felt
herself
at
home
,
at
ease
.
She
would
never
,
indeed
,
have
Robert
's
pliancy
,
his
quick
divination
,
and
for
some
time
after
her
transplanting
the
North-country
woman
had
found
it
very
difficult
to
suit
herself
to
a
new
shade
of
local
character
.
But
she
was
learning
from
Robert
every
day
;
she
watched
him
among
the
poor
,
recognising
all
his
gifts
with
a
humble
intensity
of
admiring
love
,
which
said
little
but
treasured
everything
,
and
for
herself
her
inward
happiness
and
peace
shone
through
her
quiet
ways
,
making
her
the
mother
and
the
friend
of
all
about
her
.
As
for
Robert
,
he
,
of
course
,
was
living
at
high
pressure
all
round
.
Outside
his
sermons
and
his
school
,
his
Natural
History
Club
had
perhaps
most
of
his
heart
,
and
the
passion
for
science
,
little
continuous
work
as
he
was
able
to
give
it
,
grew
on
him
more
and
more
.
He
kept
up
as
best
he
could
,
working
with
one
hand
,
so
to
speak
,
when
he
could
not
spare
two
,
and
in
his
long
rambles
over
moor
and
hill
,
gathering
in
with
his
quick
eye
a
harvest
of
local
fact
wherewith
to
feed
their
knowledge
and
his
own
.
The
mornings
he
always
spent
at
work
among
his
books
,
the
afternoons
in
endless
tramps
over
the
parish
,
sometimes
alone
,
sometimes
with
Catherine
;
and
in
the
evenings
,
if
Catherine
was
'
at
home
,
'
twice
a
week
to
womankind
,
he
had
his
nights
when
his
study
became
the
haunt
and
prey
of
half
the
boys
in
the
place
,
who
were
free
of
everything
,
as
soon
as
he
had
taught
them
to
respect
his
books
,
and
not
to
taste
his
medicines
;
other
nights
when
he
was
lecturing
or
story-telling
in
the
club
or
in
some
outlying
hamlet
;
or
others
again
,
when
with
Catherine
beside
him
he
would
sit
trying
to
think
some
of
that
religious
passion
which
burned
in
both
their
hearts
,
into
clear
words
or
striking
illustrations
for
his
sermons
.
Then
his
choir
was
much
upon
his
mind
.
He
knew
nothing
about
music
,
nor
did
Catherine
;
their
efforts
made
Rose
laugh
irreverently
when
she
got
their
letters
at
Berlin
.
But
Robert
believed
in
a
choir
chiefly
as
an
excellent
social
and
centralising
instrument
.
There
had
been
none
in
Mr.
Preston
's
day
.
He
was
determined
to
have
one
,
and
a
good
one
,
and
by
sheer
energy
he
succeeded
,
delighting
in
his
boyish
way
over
the
opposition
some
of
his
novelties
excited
among
the
older
and
more
stiff-backed
inhabitants
.
'
Let
them
talk
,
'
he
would
say
brightly
to
Catherine
.
'
They
will
come
round
;
and
talk
is
good
.
Anything
to
make
them
think
,
to
stir
the
pool
!
'
Of
course
that
old
problem
of
the
agricultural
labourer
weighed
upon
him
—
his
grievances
,
his
wants
.
He
went
about
pondering
the
English
land
system
,
more
than
half
inclined
one
day
to
sink
part
of
his
capital
in
a
peasant-proprietor
experiment
,
and
ingulfed
the
next
in
all
the
moral
and
economical
objection
,
to
the
French
system
.
Land
for
allotments
,
at
any
rate
,
he
had
set
his
heart
on
.
But
in
this
direction
,
as
in
many
others
,
the
way
was
barred
.
All
the
land
in
the
parish
was
the
squire
's
,
and
not
one
inch
of
the
squire
's
land
would
Henslowe
let
young
Elsmere
have
anything
to
do
with
if
he
knew
it
.
He
would
neither
repair
nor
enlarge
the
Workmen
's
Institute
;
and
he
had
a
way
of
forgetting
the
squire
's
customary
subscriptions
to
parochial
objects
,
always
paid
through
him
,
which
gave
him
much
food
for
chuckling
whenever
he
passed
Elsmere
in
the
country
lanes
.
The
man
's
coarse
insolence
and
mean
hatred
made
themselves
felt
at
every
turn
,
besmirching
and
embittering
.
Still
it
was
very
true
that
neither
Henslowe
nor
the
squire
could
do
Robert
much
harm
.
His
hold
on
the
parish
was
visibly
strengthening
;
his
sermons
were
not
only
filling
the
church
with
his
own
parishioners
,
but
attracting
hearers
from
the
districts
round
Murewell
,
so
that
even
on
these
winter
Sundays
there
was
almost
always
a
sprinkling
of
strange
faces
among
the
congregation
;
and
his
position
in
the
county
and
diocese
was
becoming
every
month
more
honourable
and
important
.
The
gentry
about
showed
them
much
kindness
,
and
would
have
shown
them
much
hospitality
if
they
had
been
allowed
.
But
though
Robert
had
nothing
of
the
ascetic
about
him
,
and
liked
the
society
of
his
equals
as
much
as
most
good-tempered
and
vivacious
people
do
,
he
and
Catherine
decided
that
for
the
present
they
had
no
time
to
spare
for
visits
and
county
society
.
Still
,
of
course
,
there
were
many
occasions
on
which
the
routine
of
their
life
brought
them
across
their
neighbours
,
and
it
began
to
be
pretty
widely
recognised
that
Elsmere
was
a
young
fellow
of
unusual
promise
and
intelligence
,
that
his
wife
too
was
remarkable
,
and
that
between
them
they
were
likely
to
raise
the
standard
of
clerical
effort
considerably
in
their
part
of
Surrey
.
All
the
factors
of
this
life
—
his
work
,
his
influence
,
his
recovered
health
,
the
lavish
beauty
of
the
country
,
Elsmere
enjoyed
with
all
his
heart
.
But
at
the
root
of
all
there
lay
what
gave
value
and
savour
to
everything
else
—
that
exquisite
home-life
of
theirs
,
that
tender
,
triple
bond
of
husband
,
wife
,
and
child
.
Catherine
,
coming
home
tired
from
teaching
or
visiting
,
would
find
her
step
quickening
as
she
reached
the
gate
of
the
rectory
,
and
the
sense
of
delicious
possession
waking
up
in
her
,
which
is
one
of
the
first
fruits
of
motherhood
.
There
,
at
the
window
,
between
the
lamplight
behind
and
the
winter
dusk
outside
,
would
be
the
child
in
its
nurse
's
arms
,
little
wondering
,
motiveless
smiles
passing
over
the
tiny
puckered
face
that
was
so
oddly
like
Robert
already
.
And
afterwards
,
in
the
fire-lit
nursery
,
with
the
bath
in
front
of
the
high
fender
,
and
all
the
necessaries
of
baby
life
beside
it
,
she
would
go
through
those
functions
which
mothers
love
and
linger
over
,
let
the
kicking
dimpled
creature
principally
concerned
protest
as
it
may
against
the
over-refinements
of
civilisation
.
Then
,
when
the
little
restless
voice
was
stilled
,
and
the
cradle
left
silent
in
the
darkened
room
,
there
would
come
the
short
watching
for
Robert
,
his
voice
,
his
kiss
,
their
simple
meal
together
,
a
moment
of
rest
,
of
laughter
and
chat
,
before
some
fresh
effort
claimed
them
.
Every
now
and
then
—
white-letter
days
—
there
would
drop
on
them
a
long
evening
together
.
Then
out
would
come
one
or
the
few
books
—
Dante
or
Virgil
or
Milton
—
which
had
entered
into
the
fibre
of
Catherine
's
strong
nature
.
The
two
heads
would
draw
close
over
them
,
or
Robert
would
take
some
thought
of
hers
as
a
text
,
and
spout
away
from
the
hearthrug
,
watching
all
the
while
for
her
smile
,
her
look
of
assent
.
Sometimes
,
late
at
night
,
when
there
was
a
sermon
on
his
mind
,
he
would
dive
into
his
pocket
for
his
Greek
Testament
and
make
her
read
,
partly
for
the
sake
of
teaching
her
—
for
she
knew
some
Greek
and
longed
to
know
more
—
but
mostly
that
he
might
get
from
her
some
of
that
garnered
wealth
of
spiritual
experience
which
he
adored
in
her
.
They
would
go
from
verse
to
verse
,
from
thought
to
thought
,
till
suddenly
perhaps
the
tide
of
feeling
would
rise
,
and
while
the
wind
swept
round
the
house
,
and
the
owls
hooted
in
the
elms
,
they
would
sit
hand
in
hand
,
lost
in
love
and
faith
,
—
Christ
near
them
—
Eternity
,
warm
with
God
,
enwrapping
them
.
So
much
for
the
man
of
action
,
the
husband
,
the
philanthropist
.
In
reality
,
great
as
was
the
moral
energy
of
this
period
of
Elsmere
's
life
,
the
dominant
distinguishing
note
of
it
was
not
moral
but
intellectual
.
In
matters
of
conduct
he
was
but
developing
habits
and
tendencies
already
strongly
present
in
him
;
in
matters
of
thinking
,
with
every
month
of
this
winter
he
was
becoming
conscious
of
fresh
forces
,
fresh
hunger
,
fresh
horizons
.
'
One
half
of
your
day
be
the
king
of
your
world
,
'
Mr.
Grey
had
said
to
him
;
'
the
other
half
be
the
slave
of
something
which
will
take
you
out
of
your
world
,
into
the
general
life
,
the
life
of
thought
,
of
man
as
a
whole
,
of
the
universe
.
'
The
counsel
,
as
we
have
seen
,
had
struck
root
and
flowered
into
action
.
So
many
men
of
Elsmere
's
type
give
themselves
up
once
and
for
all
as
they
become
mature
to
the
life
of
doing
and
feeling
,
practically
excluding
the
life
of
thought
.
It
was
Henry
Grey
's
influence
in
all
probability
,
perhaps
,
too
,
the
training
of
an
earlier
Langham
,
that
saved
for
Elsmere
the
life
of
thought
.
The
form
taken
by
this
training
of
his
own
mind
he
had
been
thus
encouraged
not
to
abandon
,
was
,
as
we
know
,
the
study
of
history
.
He
had
well
mapped
out
before
him
that
book
on
the
origins
of
France
which
he
had
described
to
Langham
.
It
was
to
take
him
years
,
of
course
,
and
meanwhile
,
in
his
first
enthusiasm
,
he
was
like
a
child
,
revelling
in
the
treasure
of
work
that
lay
before
him
.
As
he
had
told
Langham
,
he
had
just
got
below
the
surface
of
a
great
subject
and
was
beginning
to
dig
into
the
roots
of
it
.
Hitherto
he
had
been
under
the
guidance
of
men
of
his
own
day
,
of
the
nineteenth
century
historian
,
who
refashions
the
past
on
the
lines
of
his
own
mind
,
who
gives
it
rationality
,
coherence
,
and
,
as
it
were
,
modernness
,
so
that
the
main
impression
he
produces
on
us
,
so
long
as
we
look
at
that
past
through
him
only
,
is
on
the
whole
an
impression
of
continuity
,
of
resemblance
.
Whereas
,
on
the
contrary
,
the
first
impression
left
on
a
man
by
the
attempt
to
plunge
into
the
materials
of
history
for
himself
is
almost
always
an
extraordinarily
sharp
impression
of
difference
,
of
contrast
.
Ultimately
,
of
course
,
he
sees
that
these
men
and
women
whose
letters
and
biographies
,
whose
creeds
and
general
conceptions
he
is
investigating
,
are
in
truth
his
ancestors
,
bone
of
his
bone
,
flesh
of
his
flesh
.
But
at
first
the
student
who
goes
back
,
say
,
in
the
history
of
Europe
,
behind
the
Renaissance
or
behind
the
Crusades
into
the
actual
deposits
of
the
past
,
is
often
struck
with
a
kind
of
vertige
.
The
men
and
women
whom
he
has
dragged
forth
into
the
light
of
his
own
mind
are
to
him
like
some
strange
puppet-show
.
They
are
called
by
names
he
knows
—
kings
,
bishops
,
judges
,
poets
,
priests
,
men
of
letters
—
but
what
a
gulf
between
him
and
them
!
What
motives
,
what
beliefs
,
what
embryonic
processes
of
thought
and
morals
,
what
bizarre
combinations
of
ignorance
and
knowledge
,
of
the
highest
sanctity
with
the
lowest
credulity
or
falsehood
;
what
extraordinary
prepossessions
,
born
with
a
man
and
tainting
his
whole
ways
of
seeing
and
thinking
from
childhood
to
the
grave
!
Amid
all
the
intellectual
dislocation
of
the
spectacle
,
indeed
,
he
perceives
certain
Greeks
and
certain
Latins
who
represent
a
forward
strain
,
who
belong
as
it
seems
to
a
world
of
their
own
,
a
world
ahead
of
them
.
To
them
he
stretches
out
his
hand
:
'
You
,
'
he
says
to
them
,
'
though
your
priests
spoke
to
you
not
of
Christ
,
but
of
Zeus
and
Artemis
,
you
are
really
my
kindred
!
'
But
intellectually
they
stand
alone
.
Around
them
,
after
them
,
for
long
ages
the
world
'
spake
as
a
child
,
felt
as
a
child
,
understood
as
a
child
.
'
Then
he
sees
what
it
is
makes
the
difference
,
digs
the
gulf
.
'
Science
,
'
the
mind
cries
,
'
ordered
knowledge
.
'
And
so
for
the
first
time
the
modern
recognises
what
the
accumulations
of
his
forefathers
have
done
for
him
.
He
takes
the
torch
which
man
has
been
so
long
and
patiently
fashioning
to
his
hand
,
and
turns
it
on
the
past
,
and
at
every
step
the
sight
grows
stranger
,
and
yet
more
moving
,
more
pathetic
.
The
darkness
into
which
he
penetrates
does
but
make
him
grasp
his
own
guiding
light
the
more
closely
.
And
yet
,
bit
by
bit
,
it
has
been
prepared
for
him
by
these
groping
half
conscious
generations
,
and
the
scrutiny
which
began
in
repulsion
and
laughter
ends
in
a
marvelling
gratitude
.
But
the
repulsion
and
the
laughter
come
first
,
and
during
this
winter
of
work
Elsmere
felt
them
both
very
strongly
.
He
would
sit
in
the
morning
buried
among
the
records
of
decaying
Rome
and
emerging
France
,
surrounded
by
Chronicles
,
by
Church
Councils
,
by
lives
of
the
Saints
,
by
primitive
systems
of
law
,
pushing
his
imaginative
impetuous
way
through
them
.
Sometimes
Catherine
would
be
there
,
and
he
would
pour
out
on
her
something
of
what
was
in
his
own
mind
.
One
day
he
was
deep
in
the
life
of
a
certain
saint
.
The
saint
had
been
bishop
of
a
diocese
in
Southern
France
.
His
biographer
was
his
successor
in
the
see
,
a
man
of
high
political
importance
in
the
Burgundian
state
,
renowned
besides
for
sanctity
and
learning
.
Only
some
twenty
years
separated
the
biography
,
at
the
latest
,
from
the
death
of
its
subject
.
It
contained
some
curious
material
for
social
history
,
and
Robert
was
reading
it
with
avidity
.
But
it
was
,
of
course
,
a
tissue
of
marvels
.
The
young
bishop
had
practised
every
virtue
known
to
the
time
,
and
wrought
every
conceivable
miracle
,
and
the
miracles
were
better
told
than
usual
,
with
more
ingenuity
,
more
imagination
.
Perhaps
on
that
account
they
struck
the
reader
's
sense
more
sharply
.
'
And
the
saint
said
to
the
sorcerers
and
to
the
practisers
of
unholy
arts
,
that
they
should
do
those
evil
things
no
more
,
for
he
had
bound
the
spirits
of
whom
they
were
wont
to
inquire
,
and
they
would
get
no
further
answers
to
their
incantations
.
Then
those
stiff-necked
sons
of
the
devil
fell
upon
the
man
of
God
,
scourged
him
sore
,
and
threatened
him
with
death
,
if
he
would
not
instantly
loose
those
spirits
he
had
bound
.
And
seeing
he
could
prevail
nothing
,
and
being
,
moreover
,
admonished
by
God
so
to
do
,
he
permitted
them
to
work
their
own
damnation
.
For
he
called
for
a
parchment
and
wrote
upon
it
,
"
Ambrose
unto
Satan
—
Enter
!
"
Then
was
the
spell
loosed
,
the
spirits
returned
,
the
sorcerers
inquired
as
they
were
accustomed
,
and
received
answers
.
But
in
a
short
space
of
time
every
one
of
them
perished
miserably
and
was
delivered
unto
his
natural
lord
Satanas
,
whereunto
he
belonged
.
'
Robert
made
a
hasty
exclamation
,
and
turning
to
Catherine
,
who
was
working
beside
him
,
read
the
passage
to
her
,
with
a
few
words
as
to
the
book
and
its
author
.
Catherine
's
work
dropped
a
moment
on
to
her
knee
.
'
What
extraordinary
superstition
!
'
she
said
,
startled
.
'
A
bishop
,
Robert
,
and
an
educated
man
?
'
Robert
nodded
.
'
But
it
is
the
whole
habit
of
mind
,
'
he
said
half
to
himself
,
staring
into
the
fire
,
'
that
is
so
astounding
.
No
one
escapes
it
.
The
whole
age
really
is
non-sane
.
'
'
I
suppose
the
devout
Catholic
would
believe
that
?
'
'
I
am
not
sure
,
'
said
Robert
dreamily
,
and
remained
sunk
in
thought
for
long
after
,
while
Catherine
worked
,
and
pondered
a
Christmas
entertainment
for
her
girls
.
Perhaps
it
was
his
scientific
work
,
fragmentary
as
it
was
,
that
was
really
quickening
and
sharpening
these
historical
impressions
of
his
.
Evolution
—
once
a
mere
germ
in
the
mind
—
was
beginning
to
press
,
to
encroach
,
to
intermeddle
with
the
mind
's
other
furniture
.
And
the
comparative
instinct
—
that
tool
,
par
excellence
,
of
modern
science
—
was
at
last
fully
awake
,
was
growing
fast
,
taking
hold
,
now
here
,
now
there
.
'
It
is
tolerably
clear
to
me
,
'
he
said
to
himself
suddenly
one
winter
afternoon
,
as
he
was
trudging
home
alone
from
Mile
End
,
'
that
some
day
or
other
I
must
set
to
work
to
bring
a
little
order
into
one
's
notions
of
the
Old
Testament
.
At
present
they
are
just
a
chaos
!
'
He
walked
on
a
while
,
struggling
with
the
rainstorm
which
had
overtaken
him
,
till
again
the
mind
's
quick
life
took
voice
.
'
But
what
matter
?
God
in
the
beginning
—
God
in
the
prophets
—
in
Israel
's
best
life
—
God
in
Christ
!
How
are
any
theories
about
the
Pentateuch
to
touch
that
?
'
And
into
the
clear
eyes
,
the
young
face
aglow
with
wind
and
rain
,
there
leapt
a
light
,
a
softness
indescribable
.
But
the
vivider
and
the
keener
grew
this
new
mental
life
of
Elsmere
's
,
the
more
constant
became
his
sense
of
soreness
as
to
that
foolish
and
motiveless
quarrel
which
divided
him
from
the
squire
.
Naturally
he
was
for
ever
being
harassed
and
pulled
up
in
his
work
by
the
mere
loss
of
the
Murewell
library
.
To
have
such
a
collection
so
close
,
and
to
be
cut
off
from
it
,
was
a
state
of
things
no
student
could
help
feeling
severely
.
But
it
was
much
more
than
that
:
it
was
the
man
he
hankered
after
;
the
man
who
was
a
master
where
he
was
a
beginner
;
the
man
who
had
given
his
life
to
learning
,
and
was
carrying
all
his
vast
accumulations
sombrely
to
the
grave
,
unused
,
untransmitted
.
'
He
might
have
given
me
his
knowledge
,
'
thought
Elsmere
sadly
,
'
and
I
—
I
—
would
have
been
a
son
to
him
.
Why
is
life
so
perverse
?
'
Meanwhile
he
was
as
much
cut
off
from
the
great
house
and
its
master
as
though
both
had
been
surrounded
by
the
thorn
hedge
of
fairy
tale
.
The
Hall
had
its
visitors
during
these
winter
months
,
but
the
Elsmeres
saw
nothing
of
them
.
Robert
gulped
down
a
natural
sigh
when
one
Saturday
evening
,
as
he
passed
the
Hall
gates
,
he
saw
driving
through
them
the
chief
of
English
science
side
by
side
with
the
most
accomplished
of
English
critics
.
'
"
There
are
good
times
in
the
world
and
I
ai
n't
in
'
em
!
"
'
he
said
to
himself
with
a
laugh
and
a
shrug
as
he
turned
up
the
lane
to
the
rectory
,
and
then
,
boy-like
,
was
ashamed
of
himself
,
and
greeted
Catherine
with
all
the
tenderer
greeting
.
Only
on
two
occasions
during
three
months
could
he
be
sure
of
having
seen
the
squire
.
Both
were
in
the
twilight
,
when
,
as
the
neighbourhood
declared
,
Mr.
Wendover
always
walked
,
and
both
made
a
sharp
impression
on
the
rector
's
nerves
.
In
the
heart
of
one
of
the
loneliest
commons
of
the
parish
Robert
,
swinging
along
one
November
evening
through
the
scattered
furze
bushes
,
growing
ghostly
in
the
darkness
,
was
suddenly
conscious
of
a
cloaked
figure
with
slouching
shoulders
and
head
bent
forward
coming
towards
him
.
It
passed
without
recognition
of
any
kind
,
and
for
an
instant
Robert
caught
the
long
sharpened
features
and
haughty
eyes
of
the
squire
.
At
another
time
Robert
was
walking
,
far
from
home
,
along
a
bit
of
level
road
.
The
pools
in
the
ruts
were
just
filmed
with
frost
,
and
gleamed
under
the
sunset
;
the
winter
dusk
was
clear
and
chill
.
A
horseman
turned
into
the
road
from
a
side
lane
.
It
was
the
squire
again
,
alone
.
The
sharp
sound
of
the
approaching
hoofs
stirred
Robert
's
pulse
,
and
as
they
passed
each
other
the
rector
raised
his
hat
.
He
thought
his
greeting
was
acknowledged
,
but
could
not
be
quite
sure
.
From
the
shelter
of
a
group
of
trees
he
stood
a
moment
and
looked
after
the
retreating
figure
.
It
and
the
horse
showed
dark
against
a
wide
sky
barred
by
stormy
reds
and
purples
.
The
wind
whistled
through
the
withered
oaks
;
the
long
road
with
its
lines
of
glimmering
pools
seemed
to
stretch
endlessly
into
the
sunset
;
and
with
every
minute
the
night
strode
on
.
Age
and
loneliness
could
have
found
no
fitter
setting
.
A
shiver
ran
through
Elsmere
as
he
stepped
forward
.
Undoubtedly
the
quarrel
,
helped
by
his
work
,
and
the
perpetual
presence
of
that
beautiful
house
commanding
the
whole
country
round
it
from
its
plateau
above
the
river
,
kept
Elsmere
specially
in
mind
of
the
squire
.
As
before
their
first
meeting
,
and
in
spite
of
it
,
he
became
more
and
more
imaginatively
preoccupied
with
him
.
One
of
the
signs
of
it
was
a
strong
desire
to
read
the
squire
's
two
famous
books
:
one
,
The
Idols
of
the
Market-place
,
an
attack
on
English
beliefs
;
the
other
,
Essays
on
English
Culture
,
an
attack
on
English
ideals
of
education
.
He
had
never
come
across
them
as
it
happened
,
and
perhaps
Newcome
's
denunciation
had
some
effect
in
inducing
him
for
a
time
to
refrain
from
reading
them
.
But
in
December
he
ordered
them
and
waited
their
coming
with
impatience
.
He
said
nothing
of
the
order
to
Catherine
;
somehow
there
were
by
now
two
or
three
portions
of
his
work
,
two
or
three
branches
of
his
thought
,
which
had
fallen
out
of
their
common
discussion
.
After
all
she
was
not
literary
,
and
with
all
their
oneness
of
soul
there
could
not
be
an
identity
of
interests
or
pursuits
.
The
books
arrived
in
the
morning
.
(
Oh
,
how
dismally
well
,
with
what
a
tightening
of
the
heart
,
did
Robert
always
remember
that
day
in
after
years
!
)
He
was
much
too
busy
to
look
at
them
,
and
went
off
to
a
meeting
.
In
the
evening
,
coming
home
late
from
his
night-school
,
he
found
Catherine
tired
,
sent
her
to
bed
,
and
went
himself
into
his
study
to
put
together
some
notes
for
a
cottage
lecture
he
was
to
give
the
following
day
.
The
packet
of
books
,
unopened
,
lay
on
his
writing-table
.
He
took
off
the
wrapper
,
and
in
his
eager
way
fell
to
reading
the
first
he
touched
.
It
was
the
first
volume
of
The
Idols
of
the
Market-place
.
Ten
or
twelve
years
before
,
Mr.
Wendover
had
launched
this
book
into
a
startled
and
protesting
England
.
It
had
been
the
fruit
of
his
first
renewal
of
contact
with
English
life
and
English
ideas
after
his
return
from
Berlin
.
Fresh
from
the
speculative
ferment
of
Germany
and
the
far
profaner
scepticism
of
France
,
he
had
returned
to
a
society
where
the
first
chapter
of
Genesis
and
the
theory
of
verbal
inspiration
were
still
regarded
as
valid
and
important
counters
on
the
board
of
thought
.
The
result
had
been
this
book
.
In
it
each
stronghold
of
English
popular
religion
had
been
assailed
in
turn
,
at
a
time
when
English
orthodoxy
was
a
far
more
formidable
thing
than
it
is
now
.
The
Pentateuch
,
the
Prophets
,
the
Gospels
,
St.
Paul
,
Tradition
,
the
Fathers
,
Protestantism
and
Justification
by
Faith
,
the
Eighteenth
Century
,
the
Broad
Church
Movement
,
Anglican
Theology
—
the
squire
had
his
say
about
them
all
.
And
while
the
coolness
and
frankness
of
the
method
sent
a
shock
of
indignation
and
horror
through
the
religious
public
,
the
subtle
and
caustic
style
,
and
the
epigrams
with
which
the
book
was
strewn
,
forced
both
the
religious
and
irreligious
public
to
read
,
whether
they
would
or
no.
A
storm
of
controversy
rose
round
the
volumes
,
and
some
of
the
keenest
observers
of
English
life
had
said
at
the
time
,
and
maintained
since
,
that
the
publication
of
the
book
had
made
or
marked
an
epoch
.
Robert
had
lit
on
those
pages
in
the
Essay
on
the
Gospels
where
the
squire
fell
to
analysing
the
evidence
for
the
Resurrection
,
following
up
his
analysis
by
an
attempt
at
reconstructing
the
conditions
out
of
which
the
belief
in
'
the
legend
'
arose
.
Robert
began
to
read
vaguely
at
first
,
then
to
hurry
on
through
page
after
page
,
still
standing
,
seized
at
once
by
the
bizarre
power
of
the
style
,
the
audacity
and
range
of
the
treatment
.
Not
a
sound
in
the
house
.
Outside
,
the
tossing
moaning
December
night
;
inside
,
the
faintly
crackling
fire
,
the
standing
figure
.
Suddenly
it
was
to
Robert
as
though
a
cruel
torturing
hand
were
laid
upon
his
inmost
being
.
His
breath
failed
him
;
the
book
slipped
out
of
his
grasp
;
he
sank
down
upon
his
chair
,
his
head
in
his
hands
.
Oh
,
what
a
desolate
intolerable
moment
!
Over
the
young
idealist
soul
there
swept
a
dry
destroying
whirlwind
of
thought
.
Elements
gathered
from
all
sources
—
from
his
own
historical
work
,
from
the
squire
's
book
,
from
the
secret
half-conscious
recesses
of
the
mind
—
entered
into
it
,
and
as
it
passed
it
seemed
to
scorch
the
heart
.
He
stayed
bowed
there
a
while
,
then
he
roused
himself
with
a
half-groan
,
and
hastily
extinguishing
his
lamp
he
groped
his
way
upstairs
to
his
wife
's
room
.
Catherine
lay
asleep
.
The
child
,
lost
among
its
white
coverings
,
slept
too
;
there
was
a
dim
light
over
the
bed
,
the
books
,
the
pictures
.
Beside
his
wife
's
pillow
was
a
table
on
which
there
lay
open
her
little
Testament
and
the
Imitation
her
father
had
given
her
.
Elsmere
sank
down
beside
her
,
appalled
by
the
contrast
between
this
soft
religious
peace
and
that
black
agony
of
doubt
which
still
overshadowed
him
.
He
knelt
there
,
restraining
his
breath
lest
it
should
wake
her
,
wrestling
piteously
with
himself
,
crying
for
pardon
,
for
faith
,
feeling
himself
utterly
unworthy
to
touch
even
the
dear
hand
that
lay
so
near
him
.
But
gradually
the
traditional
forces
of
his
life
reasserted
themselves
.
The
horror
lifted
.
Prayer
brought
comfort
and
a
passionate
healing
self-abasement
.
'
Master
,
forgive
—
defend
—
purify
,
'
cried
the
aching
heart
.
'
There
is
none
other
that
fighteth
for
us
,
but
only
Thou
,
O
God
!
'
He
did
not
open
the
book
again
.
Next
morning
he
put
it
back
into
his
shelves
.
If
there
were
any
Christian
who
could
affront
such
an
antagonist
with
a
light
heart
,
he
felt
with
a
shudder
of
memory
it
was
not
he
.
'
I
have
neither
learning
nor
experience
enough
—
yet
,
'
he
said
to
himself
slowly
as
he
moved
away
,
'
of
course
it
can
be
met
,
but
I
must
grow
;
must
think
—
first
.
'
And
of
that
night
's
wrestle
he
said
not
a
word
to
any
living
soul
.
He
did
penance
for
it
in
the
tenderest
,
most
secret
ways
,
but
he
shrank
in
misery
from
the
thought
of
revealing
it
even
to
Catherine
.
CHAPTER
XXI
Meanwhile
the
poor
poisoned
folk
at
Mile
End
lived
and
apparently
throve
,
in
defiance
of
all
the
laws
of
the
universe
.
Robert
,
as
soon
as
he
found
that
radical
measures
were
for
the
time
hopeless
,
had
applied
himself
with
redoubled
energy
to
making
the
people
use
such
palliatives
as
were
within
their
reach
,
and
had
preached
boiled
water
and
the
removal
of
filth
till
,
as
he
declared
to
Catherine
,
his
dreams
were
one
long
sanitary
nightmare
.
But
he
was
not
confiding
enough
to
believe
that
the
people
paid
much
heed
,
and
he
hoped
more
from
a
dry
hard
winter
than
from
any
exertion
either
of
his
or
theirs
.
But
,
alas
!
with
the
end
of
November
a
season
of
furious
rain
set
in
.
Then
Robert
began
to
watch
Mile
End
with
anxiety
,
for
so
far
every
outbreak
of
illness
there
had
followed
upon
unusual
damp
.
But
the
rains
passed
,
leaving
behind
them
no
worse
results
than
the
usual
winter
crop
of
lung
ailments
and
rheumatism
,
and
he
breathed
again
.
Christmas
came
and
went
,
and
with
the
end
of
December
the
wet
weather
returned
.
Day
after
day
rolling
masses
of
south-west
cloud
came
up
from
the
Atlantic
and
wrapped
the
whole
country
in
rain
,
which
reminded
Catherine
of
her
Westmoreland
rain
more
than
any
she
had
yet
seen
in
the
South
.
Robert
accused
her
of
liking
it
for
that
reason
,
but
she
shook
her
head
with
a
sigh
,
declaring
that
it
was
'
nothing
without
the
becks
.
'
One
afternoon
she
was
shutting
the
door
of
the
school
behind
her
,
and
stepping
out
on
the
road
skirting
the
green
—
the
bedabbled
wintry
green
—
when
she
saw
Robert
emerging
from
the
Mile
End
lane
.
She
crossed
over
to
him
,
wondering
as
she
neared
him
that
he
seemed
to
take
no
notice
of
her
.
He
was
striding
along
,
his
wideawake
over
his
eyes
,
and
so
absorbed
that
she
had
almost
touched
him
before
he
saw
her
.
'
Darling
,
is
that
you
?
Do
n't
stop
me
,
I
am
going
to
take
the
pony-carriage
in
for
Meyrick
.
I
have
just
come
back
from
that
accursed
place
;
three
cases
of
diphtheria
in
one
house
,
Sharland
's
wife
—
and
two
others
down
with
fever
.
'
She
made
a
horrified
exclamation
.
'
It
will
spread
,
'
he
said
gloomily
,
'
I
know
it
will
.
I
never
saw
the
children
look
such
a
ghastly
crew
before
.
Well
,
I
must
go
for
Meyrick
and
a
nurse
,
and
we
must
isolate
and
make
a
