RED
AS
A
ROSE
IS
SHE
.
Esther
Craven
.
London
:
Richard
Bentley
,
1870
RED
AS
A
ROSE
IS
SHE
.
A
Novel
.
BY
RHODA
BROUGHTON
,
AUTHOR
OF
"
COMETH
UP
AS
A
FLOWER
,
"
"
GOOD-BYE
,
SWEETHEART
!
"
"
SECOND
THOUGHTS
,
"
ETC.
ELEVENTH
EDITION
.
LONDON
:
RICHARD
BENTLEY
AND
SON
,
Publishers
in
Ordinary
to
Her
Majesty
the
Queen
.
1887.
[
All
Rights
Reserved
.
]
CHAPTER
I
.
HAVE
you
ever
been
to
Wales
?
I
do
not
ask
this
question
of
any
one
in
particular
;
I
merely
address
it
to
the
universal
British
public
,
or
,
rather
,
to
such
member
or
members
of
the
same
as
shall
be
wise
enough
to
sit
down
and
read
the
ensuing
true
and
moving
love
story
—
true
as
the
loves
of
wicked
Abelard
and
Heloise
,
moving
as
those
of
good
Paul
and
Virginia
.
Probably
those
wise
ones
will
be
very
few
;
numerable
by
tens
,
or
even
units
:
they
will
,
I
may
very
safely
aver
,
not
form
the
bulk
of
the
nation
.
However
high
may
be
my
estimate
of
my
own
powers
of
narration
,
however
amply
Providence
may
have
gifted
me
with
self-appreciation
,
I
may
be
sure
of
that
,
seeing
that
the
only
books
I
know
of
which
enjoy
so
wide
a
circulation
are
the
Prayer-book
and
Bradshaw
.
I
am
not
going
to
instruct
any
one
in
religion
or
trains
,
so
I
may
as
well
make
up
my
mind
to
a
more
limited
audience
,
while
I
pipe
my
simple
lay
(
rather
squeakily
and
out
of
tune
,
perhaps
)
,
and
may
think
myself
very
lucky
if
that
same
kind
,
limited
audience
do
not
hiss
me
down
before
I
have
got
through
half
a
dozen
staves
of
the
dull
old
ditty
.
Have
you
ever
been
to
Wales
?
If
you
have
ever
visited
the
pretty
,
dirty
,
green
spot
where
Pat
and
his
brogue
,
where
potatoes
and
absenteeism
and
head-centres
flourish
,
alias
Ireland
,
you
have
no
doubt
passed
through
a
part
of
it
,
rushing
by
,
most
likely
,
in
the
Irish
mail
;
but
in
that
case
your
eyes
and
nose
and
ears
were
all
so
very
full
of
dust
and
cinders
—
you
were
so
fully
employed
in
blinking
and
coughing
and
enjoying
the
poetry
of
motion
—
as
to
be
totally
incapable
of
seeing
,
hearing
,
or
smelling
any
of
the
beauties
,
agreeable
noises
,
or
good
smells
,
which
in
happier
circumstances
might
have
offered
themselves
to
your
notice
.
Perhaps
you
are
in
the
habit
,
every
midsummer
,
of
taking
your
half-dozen
male
and
female
olive
shoots
to
have
the
roses
restored
to
their
twelve
fat
cheeks
by
blowy
scrambles
about
the
great
frowning
Orme
's
Head
,
or
by
excavations
in
the
Rhyl
Sands
.
Perhaps
you
have
gone
wedding-touring
to
Llanberis
on
the
top
of
a
heavy-laden
coach
,
swinging
unsafely
round
sharp
corners
,
and
nearly
flinging
your
Angelina
from
your
side
on
to
the
hard
Welsh
road
below
.
Perhaps
you
have
wept
with
Angelina
at
the
spurious
grave
of
the
martyred
Gelert
,
or
eaten
pink
trout
voraciously
at
Capel
Curig
,
and
found
out
what
a
startlingly
good
appetite
Angelina
had
.
But
have
you
ever
lived
in
the
land
of
the
Cymri
?
Have
you
ever
seen
how
drunk
the
masculine
Cymri
can
be
on
market
days
,
or
what
grievous
old
hags
the
feminine
Cymri
become
towards
their
thirtieth
year
?
have
you
ever
,
by
bitter
experience
,
discovered
the
truth
of
that
couplet
—
"
Taffy
was
a
Welshman
,
Taffy
was
a
thief
?
"
I
have
lived
in
Wales
,
so
I
speak
with
authority
;
and
for
my
part
I
do
n't
think
that
Taffy
is
much
more
given
to
the
breaking
of
the
eighth
commandment
than
the
canaille
of
any
other
country
.
He
is
not
a
bright
fellow
,
is
not
Taffy
;
happiest
,
I
think
,
when
rather
tipsy
,
or
when
yelling
psalms
in
his
conventicle
or
schism-shop
—
for
Taffy
is
addicted
to
schism
;
he
will
tell
you
plenty
of
lies
,
too
,
and
will
not
season
them
with
the
salt
of
a
racy
,
devil-me-care
wit
,
as
Pat
would
.
But
he
is
very
civil-spoken
,
and
rather
harmless
;
seldomer
,
I
think
,
than
his
cleverer
neighbour
over
the
border
does
he
hanker
feloniously
after
his
neighbour
's
spoons
,
or
hammer
his
wife
's
head
with
the
domestic
poker
.
But
why
am
I
drivelling
on
,
like
a
sort
of
Murray
and
water
,
on
the
manners
and
character
of
this
,
to
my
thinking
,
not
very
interesting
nation
?
I
will
waste
no
more
"
prave
'
ords
"
upon
them
,
as
the
few
men
and
women
whom
I
am
going
to
tell
you
about
,
and
whom
I
shall
want
you
to
like
a
little
,
or
dislike
a
little
,
as
the
case
may
be
,
are
not
Taffies
,
only
they
happen
to
have
stuck
up
their
tent-poles
in
Taffy-land
when
they
first
make
their
low
bow
to
you
.
These
men
and
women
were
nothing
out
of
the
way
for
goodness
,
or
beauty
,
or
talent
;
they
did
a
hundred
thousand
naughty
things
,
each
one
of
them
.
Some
of
them
did
them
with
impunity
,
as
far
as
this
world
goes
;
some
of
them
,
capricious
Megæra
and
Tisyphone
lashed
with
scorpions
for
their
derelictions
.
This
is
going
to
be
neither
a
"
Life
of
Saints
,
"
nor
a
"
History
of
Devils
;
"
these
are
memoirs
neither
of
a
"
Hedley
Vicars
,
"
nor
of
a
"
Dame
aux
Camellias
;
"
so
,
whoso
expects
and
relishes
either
of
those
styles
of
composition
may
forthwith
close
this
volume
,
and
pitch
it
(
if
it
be
his
own
,
and
not
the
battered
property
of
a
circulating
library
)
into
the
fire
.
Those
who
love
a
violent
moral
,
or
violent
judgment
for
sins
and
follies
—
a
man
struck
dead
for
saying
"
damn
,
"
or
a
woman
for
going
to
a
ball
,
as
the
Record
would
charitably
have
us
believe
is
the
way
of
Providence
—
equally
with
those
who
enjoy
the
flavour
of
violent
immorality
,
will
be
disappointed
if
they
look
this
way
for
the
gratification
of
their
peculiar
idiosyncracies
.
Of
my
friends
presently
to
be
made
known
to
you
,
and
criticised
by
you
,
"
the
more
part
remain
unto
this
present
,
but
some
have
fallen
asleep
.
"
Once
upon
a
time
—
I
like
that
old
,
time-honoured
opening
;
it
makes
one
so
nobly
free
,
gives
one
so
much
room
to
stretch
one
's
wings
in
,
ties
one
down
to
no
king
's
reign
,
no
hampering
,
clogging
century
—
once
upon
a
time
there
was
a
valley
in
Taffy-land
;
there
is
still
,
unless
some
very
recent
convulsion
has
upheaved
it
to
the
top
of
a
mountain
,
or
submerged
it
beneath
the
big
Atlantic
waves
;
a
valley
lovelier
than
that
one
in
"
Ida
,
"
where
"
beautiful
Paris
,
evil-hearted
Paris
,
"
pastured
his
sheep
and
his
jet-black
goats
,
and
inaugurated
his
rakish
course
;
a
valley
where
there
are
no
dangerous
,
good-looking
Parises
,
only
one
or
two
red-headed
Welsh
squires
,
who
have
each
married
,
or
will
in
the
fulness
of
time
each
marry
,
one
lawful
wife
—
red-headed
,
too
,
very
likely
;
and
have
never
made
,
will
never
make
,
love
to
any
Enones
or
other
ill-conducted
young
shepherdesses
.
In
fact
,
in
that
Arcadia
there
are
no
such
shepherdesses
;
the
daughters
of
the
Cymri
do
not
"
ply
the
homely
shepherd
's
trade
,
"
nor
would
they
shed
much
romance
over
it
if
they
did
;
for
with
sorrow
be
it
spoken
,
blowsy
are
they
mostly
,
hard-featured
,
toothless
;
and
,
moreover
,
the
little
nimble
,
lean
sheep
that
go
scrambling
and
jumping
and
skurrying
about
the
rough
crags
and
steep
hill-sides
do
not
need
any
crook
'd
and
melodious
Dowsabellas
or
Neæras
to
look
after
them
and
guide
them
in
the
way
they
should
go
.
In
that
valley
there
are
plenty
of
houses
,
squires
'
houses
and
peasants
'
houses
,
where
the
propagation
of
the
Cambrian
is
conducted
with
much
success
;
houses
big
and
little
,
red-faced
and
white-faced
and
dirty-faced
,
old
and
new
.
But
we
have
at
present
to
do
with
only
one
of
those
houses
,
and
it
comes
under
the
head
of
the
littles
and
the
olds
.
Halfway
up
a
hill-side
it
stands
,
looking
across
the
valley
to
other
higher
hills
that
swell
out
softly
against
the
sky
,
and
go
sloping
gently
down
to
the
sea
twenty
miles
away
.
They
always
remind
me
—
I
do
n't
know
why
—
of
the
distant
hills
in
Martin
's
picture
of
the
"
Plains
of
Heaven
;
"
so
mistily
do
they
rise
in
their
hazy
blueness
.
It
is
a
snug
,
unpretending
little
house
enough
,
with
its
black
and
white
cross-beamed
front
and
unwalled
kitchen-garden
straggling
steeply
up
the
slope
at
the
back
.
Many
and
many
a
day
has
it
stood
there
,
seeing
generations
and
fashions
come
in
and
go
out
;
has
stood
there
since
the
far-away
days
when
men
wore
curly
wigs
half-way
down
their
backs
,
and
sky-blue
coats
,
and
fought
and
died
for
prerogative
and
King
Charles
,
or
fought
and
lived
for
England
and
liberty
:
when
most
houses
were
black
and
white
,
like
its
little
elderly
self
,
before
plate
glass
or
stucco
,
or
commodious
villa
residences
,
five
minutes
'
walk
from
a
station
,
were
dreamed
of
.
The
name
of
the
little
house
is
Glan-yr-Afon
.
CHAPTER
II
.
"
JACK
and
I
got
in
our
last
hayload
to-day
,
without
a
drop
of
rain
;
the
first
bit
of
good
luck
that
has
come
to
us
,
I
do
n't
know
when
.
If
we
had
any
land
,
I
should
imagine
that
we
must
have
a
bit
of
consecrated
ground
among
it
,
to
account
for
our
ill-fortune
;
but
as
we
have
not
of
our
own
enough
to
pasture
a
goose
upon
,
that
cannot
be
it
.
Such
an
odd
thing
happened
to-day
—
Robert
Brandon
proposed
to
me
:
it
is
the
first
offer
I
ever
had
,
though
I
was
seventeen
last
month
.
If
it
is
never
a
more
pleasant
process
than
it
was
to-day
,
I
hope
sincerely
it
may
be
the
last
.
I
said
'
Yes
,
'
too
;
at
least
,
a
species
of
Yes
after
half-a-dozen
Noes
;
I
cannot
imagine
why
,
for
I
certainly
did
not
feel
Yes
.
I
suppose
I
must
have
been
pleased
at
any
one
wishing
for
my
company
during
the
term
of
his
natural
life
.
"
The
name
on
the
fly-leaf
of
this
journal-book
is
Esther
Craven
,
Glan-yr-Afon
,
and
the
date
July
10
,
186
—
.
July
is
very
often
a
rather
wet
month
—
not
so
this
year
;
all
through
its
one-and-thirty
days
the
sky
was
like
brass
,
as
it
looked
to
Elijah
(
the
Seer
's
)
eyes
on
the
top
of
Carmel
,
when
,
by
his
faith
,
he
brought
up
the
tarrying
rain
from
the
sea
's
chambers
.
London
is
pouring
out
her
noble
army
of
haberdashers
and
greengrocers
into
Ramsgate
and
Margate
,
and
Scarborough
and
Llandudno
.
The
John
Gilpins
of
to-day
are
not
satisfied
with
a
modest
outing
to
the
"
Bell
"
at
Edmonton
,
"
all
in
a
chaise
and
pair
.
"
Armies
of
schoolboys
are
devouring
arid
sandwiches
and
prime
old
buns
in
railway
refreshment
rooms
—
schoolboys
emptied
out
of
every
school
and
seminary
and
college
all
over
the
country
.
Highly
paid
instructors
of
youth
are
stretching
their
cramped
legs
up
the
steep
sides
of
Helvellyn
and
Mont
Blanc
,
and
surveying
the
"
frozen
hurricane
"
of
the
glaciers
through
their
academic
spectacles
.
And
young
Craven
's
(
of
Glan-yr-Afon
)
last
hayload
is
safely
stacked
,
as
you
heard
from
his
sister
's
diary
.
This
morning
the
highest
lying
of
the
upland
fields
was
hilly
with
haycocks
:
to-night
it
is
as
flat
as
Salisbury
Plain
.
All
day
long
the
waggons
have
gone
grinding
and
crunching
up
and
down
the
rocky
mountain
road
between
field
and
rick-yard
.
All
day
long
Evan
and
Hugh
and
Roppert
(
sic
)
with
their
waistcoats
open
and
their
brown
arms
bared
,
aided
and
abetted
by
various
Cambrian
matrons
,
with
bonnets
standing
upright
on
their
heads
,
and
pitchforks
in
their
lily
hands
,
have
been
tossing
the
scented
bundles
—
sweeter
in
death
than
in
life
,
like
a
good
man
's
fame
—
into
the
carts
;
loading
them
till
of
the
shaft
horse
nought
but
ears
and
nose
and
forelegs
appeared
,
save
to
the
eye
of
faith
.
All
day
long
Esther
has
been
sitting
under
a
haycock
,
as
one
might
fancy
Solomon
's
wise
woman
doing
,
"
looking
well
to
the
ways
of
her
household
.
"
The
hay
moulds
itself
pliably
into
a
soft
arm-chair
for
her
young
,
slight
figure
,
and
the
big
hay-spiders
walk
up
her
back
at
their
leisure
,
and
explore
the
virgin
forests
of
her
thick
dusk
hair
.
She
has
had
her
luncheon
brought
out
to
her
there
—
bread
and
milk
in
a
white
bowl
.
It
is
unsocial
,
surly
work
,
eating
alone
;
one
feels
reduced
to
the
level
of
a
dog
,
cracking
bones
,
and
lapping
up
gravy
out
of
his
trencher
,
all
by
himself
,
with
tail
well
down
,
like
a
pump
handle
,
and
a
growl
and
a
snap
for
any
brother
dog
who
may
approach
to
share
his
feast
.
The
haymakers
were
much
cheerier
—
"
couched
at
ease
"
under
the
nutty
hedgerow
,
bringing
slices
of
unnaturally
fat
bacon
out
of
blue
and
white
spotted
pocket-handkerchiefs
,
gabbling
to
one
another
in
the
Welsh
tongue
,
which
,
to
one
who
occupies
the
room
of
the
unlearned
,
has
always
a
querulous
,
quarrelsome
,
interrogative
sound
,
and
digging
their
clasp
knives
into
the
ground
to
clean
them
,
when
their
services
were
no
longer
required
.
Jack
is
out
for
the
day
,
and
the
place
feels
stupid
without
him
.
There
is
not
much
melody
in
"
I
paddle
my
own
canoe
,
"
but
one
misses
it
when
one
is
accustomed
to
hear
it
echoing
gaily
over
the
crofts
and
through
the
farm-yard
and
orchard
.
It
would
be
impossible
to
talk
more
dog-Welsh
than
Jack
does
to
his
workmen
;
but
even
the
mellifluous
tongue
of
the
Cymri
,
with
its
three
or
four
consonants
standing
together
,
undissevered
by
any
vowel
,
is
made
harmonious
,
enunciated
by
a
young
,
clear
voice
,
that
sounds
as
if
it
had
never
been
the
vehicle
for
sorrowful
words
.
"
The
village
seems
asleep
or
dead
,
Now
Lubin
is
away
,
"
and
Esther
,
though
she
has
entered
upon
her
eighteenth
year
(
an
age
which
a
century
ago
would
have
been
rather
overripe
—
Chloe
and
Cynthia
and
Phyllis
being
considered
in
their
prime
at
fifteen
,
and
toasted
accordingly
)
,
has
as
yet
no
Lubin
but
her
brother
.
Now
and
again
,
Gwen
the
cook
,
and
Sarah
the
housemaid
,
came
panting
up
the
hill
in
lilac
cotton
gowns
and
trim
white
aprons
,
bearing
beer
in
every
jug
and
mug
and
tin
pipkin
that
Glan-yr-Afon
affords
,
as
Evangeline
brought
the
nut-brown
ale
to
the
reapers
of
the
village
of
Grand
Pré
.
And
the
haymakers
drink
insatiably
,
and
wipe
the
thirsty
mouth
upon
the
convenient
sleeve
as
artless
Nature
bids
.
By-and-by
artless
Nature
makes
them
rather
unsteady
on
their
legs
.
As
they
lead
the
heavy-laden
cart
to
the
last
remaining
haycock
,
the
one
on
which
their
mistress
sits
enthroned
,
I
am
not
at
all
sure
that
they
do
not
see
two
haycocks
,
two
wide-leaved
white
hats
,
two
Esthers
.
Perceiving
their
condition
,
though
too
old
an
inhabitant
of
Wales
to
be
in
any
degree
surprised
at
what
is
,
after
all
,
the
normal
condition
of
the
Welsh
,
Miss
Craven
rises
precipitately
.
Driven
from
her
fortress
,
she
picks
up
her
needles
and
threads
,
and
Jack
's
shirt
,
from
which
,
as
usual
,
the
frequent
button
is
missing
,
and
runs
lightly
down
the
mountain
path
in
her
strong
country
boots
,
which
bid
defiance
to
the
sharp
stones
that
crop
out
at
every
step
through
the
limestone
soil
.
At
the
hall
door
—
a
little
arched
door
like
a
church
's
,
with
a
trellised
porch
and
benches
,
such
as
one
sees
Dutch
boors
sitting
on
with
their
beer
and
schnapps
,
in
Teniers
'
pictures
—
Sarah
meets
her
.
Sarah
is
an
Englishwoman
.
"
Mr.
Brandon
is
in
the
parlour
,
'
m
.
"
"
Parlour
!
My
good
Sarah
,
how
many
times
shall
I
adjure
you
,
by
all
you
hold
most
sacred
,
to
say
drawing-room
?
"
"
He
has
been
there
best
part
of
half-an-hour
,
'
m
.
"
"
Poor
man
!
how
lively
for
him
!
why
on
earth
did
n't
you
come
and
call
me
?
"
"
He
said
as
he
was
n't
in
no
partikler
hurry
,
and
he
'd
as
lieve
as
not
wait
till
you
come
in
.
Stop
a
bit
,
Miss
Esther
,
you
have
got
some
hay
on
your
frock
behind
.
"
"
People
of
seventeen
wear
gowns
,
not
frocks
,
Sarah
.
Oh
!
there
,
that
will
do
.
If
I
had
a
haystack
disposed
about
my
person
,
he
would
never
be
a
bit
the
wiser
.
"
Half-an-hour
passes
,
and
Mr.
Brandon
is
still
in
the
"
parlour
.
"
It
is
seven
o'clock
,
and
dinner-time
.
Would
you
so
long
in
saying
,
and
whether
it
is
anything
likely
to
reconcile
Miss
Craven
to
the
loss
of
her
dinner
?
A
little
room
that
looks
towards
the
sun-setting
;
a
little
room
full
of
evening
sunshine
and
the
smell
of
tea-roses
;
a
light
paper
,
with
small
,
bright
flower-bunches
on
the
walls
;
white
muslin
curtains
;
a
general
air
of
crisp
freshness
,
as
of
a
room
that
there
are
no
climbing
,
crawling
,
sticky-fingered
children
to
crumple
and
rumple
.
A
young
woman
,
rather
red
in
the
face
,
standing
in
one
corner
.
She
has
been
driven
thither
apparently
by
a
young
man
,
who
is
standing
before
her
,
and
who
is
still
redder
.
At
a
rough
calculation
,
you
would
say
that
the
young
man
was
seven
feet
high
;
but
put
him
with
his
back
against
the
wall
,
with
his
heels
together
,
and
his
chin
in
,
and
you
will
find
that
he
is
exactly
six
feet
four
;
that
is
,
four
inches
taller
than
any
man
who
wishes
to
do
work
in
the
world
,
and
find
horses
to
carry
him
,
ought
to
be
.
His
clothes
are
rather
shabby
,
and
he
looks
poor
;
but
,
from
the
crown
of
his
close-clipped
head
to
the
sole
of
his
big
feet
,
a
gentleman
,
every
inch
of
him
,
though
he
has
no
"
gude
braid
claith
"
to
help
to
make
him
so
.
His
features
may
be
Apollo
's
or
Apollyon
's
,
for
all
you
can
see
of
them
,
so
thickly
are
they
planted
out
with
a
forest
of
yellow
hair
;
but
tears
do
not
seem
to
be
at
any
immense
distance
from
eyes
blue
as
the
sky
between
storm
clouds
,
fearless
as
a
three-years
'
child
's
.
"
Do
n't
you
think
that
we
do
very
well
as
we
are
?
"
says
the
young
woman
,
suggestively
.
"
I
do
n't
know
about
you
,
I
'm
sure
.
I
know
I
've
lost
a
stone
and
a
half
within
the
last
year
,
"
replies
the
young
man
,
very
ruefully
.
Esther
laughs
.
"
There
is
some
little
of
you
left
still
,
"
she
says
,
with
rather
a
mischievous
glance
up
at
the
two
yards
and
a
half
of
enamoured
manhood
before
her
.
This
is
what
has
been
over-roasting
the
mutton
.
He
has
been
asking
her
to
take
his
heart
,
his
large
hand
,
and
the
half
of
one
hundred
and
twenty
pounds
a
year
(
the
exorbitant
pay
of
a
lieutenant
in
Her
Majesty
's
infantry
)
,
of
an
old
hunting
watch
,
and
a
curly
retriever
dog
;
and
she
has
been
declining
these
tempting
offers
,
one
and
all
.
The
minute
hand
of
the
gilt
clock
,
on
which
Minerva
sits
in
a
helmet
and
a
very
tight
gown
,
with
her
legs
dangling
down
,
has
travelled
from
6.30
to
7.5
,
and
within
these
five-and-thirty
minutes
Miss
Craven
has
refused
three
proposals
,
all
made
by
the
same
person
:
the
first
,
very
stoutly
and
mercilessly
,
from
Jack
's
arm-chair
,
where
she
had
originally
taken
up
her
position
;
the
second
,
decisively
still
,
but
with
less
cruelty
,
from
the
music-stool
,
to
which
she
had
next
retired
;
and
the
third
,
in
a
hasty
and
wavering
manner
,
from
the
corner
,
in
which
she
has
taken
final
refuge
,
in
a
strong
,
fortified
entrenchment
behind
the
writing-table
.
"
But
—
but
—
"
says
Esther
,
her
rebellious
mouth
giving
little
twitches
every
now
and
then
as
at
some
lurking
thought
of
the
ridiculous
—
"
it
's
—
it
's
such
a
very
odd
idea
!
I
do
n't
think
I
ever
was
more
surprised
in
my
life
.
When
Sarah
told
me
that
you
were
here
,
I
thought
that
,
of
course
,
you
had
come
to
say
something
about
that
bone-dust
.
Why
,
you
never
said
anything
at
all
tending
this
way
before
.
"
"
Did
n't
I
?
"
answers
the
young
giant
,
with
a
crestfallen
look
.
"
I
tried
several
times
,
but
I
do
n't
think
that
you
could
have
understood
what
I
meant
,
for
you
always
began
to
laugh
.
"
"
I
always
do
laugh
at
civil
speeches
,
"
answers
the
girl
simply
.
"
I
do
n't
know
how
else
to
take
them
:
I
suppose
it
is
because
I
have
had
so
few
addressed
to
me
;
they
always
sound
to
me
so
niais
.
"
"
I
'm
not
a
bit
surprised
at
your
not
liking
me
,
"
he
says
,
with
humility
.
"
I
do
n't
see
how
any
one
could
at
first
.
I
know
that
I
'm
ugly
and
awkward
,
and
do
n't
understand
things
quick
—
"
"
I
do
n't
dis
-like
you
,
"
interrupts
Esther
,
with
magnanimity
,
quite
affected
by
her
lover
's
description
of
his
own
undesirability
.
"
Why
should
I
?
There
is
nothing
in
you
to
dislike
;
you
are
very
good-natured
,
I
'm
sure
,
"
damning
with
faint
praise
,
in
the
laudable
effort
not
to
be
unqualifiedly
uncomplimentary
.
"
I
know
what
an
unequal
exchange
it
is
that
I
am
offering
,
"
says
Brandon
,
too
humble
to
resent
,
and
yet
with
a
dim
sense
of
mortification
at
the
quantity
and
quality
of
praise
bestowed
upon
him
.
"
I
know
of
how
much
more
value
you
are
than
I
!
"
She
does
not
contradict
him
;
her
own
heart
echoes
his
words
.
"
I
am
of
more
value
than
he
;
I
shall
find
it
out
practically
some
day
.
"
"
That
was
why
I
was
in
such
a
hurry
to
speak
,
"
he
says
eagerly
.
"
I
felt
sure
that
if
I
did
not
,
you
would
be
snapped
up
directly
by
some
one
else
.
"
She
laughs
rather
grimly
.
"
You
might
have
laid
aside
your
alarms
on
that
head
,
I
think
.
I
do
n't
know
who
there
is
about
here
to
snap
me
up
.
"
Silence
for
a
few
minutes
:
Esther
takes
up
a
penwiper
,
fashioned
into
a
remote
resemblance
to
a
chimney
sweep
,
and
studies
its
anatomy
attentively
.
"
Shall
I
upset
the
writing-table
and
make
a
rush
past
him
?
No
,
the
ink
would
spoil
the
carpet
,
and
he
would
only
come
again
to-morrow
,
and
hunt
me
into
the
other
corner
.
Poor
fellow
!
I
hope
he
is
not
going
to
cry
,
or
go
down
on
his
knees
!
"
Whether
mindful
or
not
of
the
fate
of
Gibbon
the
historian
,
who
,
having
thrown
himself
on
his
knees
before
his
lady-love
,
was
unable
,
through
extreme
fat
,
to
get
up
again
,
Brandon
does
not
indulge
in
either
of
the
demonstrations
that
Esther
apprehended
.
He
stands
quiet
,
cramming
half
a
yard
of
yellow
beard
into
his
mouth
,
and
says
presently
:
"
Well
,
I
suppose
I
must
not
worry
you
any
more
;
it
is
not
good
manners
,
is
it
?
A
man
ought
to
be
satisfied
with
one
No
;
I
have
given
you
the
trouble
of
saying
three
.
"
"
It
's
very
disagreeable
,
I
'm
sure
,
"
says
Esther
,
wrinkling
up
her
forehead
in
an
embarrassed
fashion
,
"
and
I
hate
saying
No
to
any
one
:
I
do
n't
mean
in
this
way
,
because
nobody
ever
asked
me
before
,
but
about
anything
;
but
what
can
I
do
?
"
"
Try
me
!
"
he
says
very
eagerly
,
stretching
out
his
hand
across
the
narrow
table
(
all
but
upsetting
the
standish
en
route
)
.
"
I
do
n't
want
to
threaten
you
,
saying
that
I
should
go
to
the
dogs
if
you
threw
me
over
,
for
I
should
not
;
that
always
seemed
to
me
a
cowardly
sort
of
thing
to
do
;
and
,
besides
,
I
should
have
my
mother
left
to
live
for
if
the
worst
came
to
the
worst
;
but
you
must
see
that
it
is
everything
in
the
world
to
a
fellow
to
have
one
great
hope
in
it
to
keep
him
straight
.
"
Soft
music
in
the
distance
;
some
one
whistling
"
I
paddle
my
own
canoe
"
somewhere
about
the
house
;
Esther
,
in
an
agony
between
the
fear
of
subversing
the
table
,
and
the
hundredfold
worse
fear
of
being
discovered
by
Jack
in
an
unequivocally
sentimental
position
,
of
which
she
would
never
hear
the
last
.
"
Very
well
,
very
well
,
I
'll
—
I
'll
think
about
it
;
could
you
be
so
very
kind
as
to
loose
my
hand
?
"
He
complies
reluctantly
,
and
she
,
that
there
may
be
no
further
discussion
about
it
,
hides
it
discreetly
away
in
her
jacket
pocket
.
"
I
paddle
my
own
canoe
"
dies
away
in
the
distance
;
apparently
it
was
on
its
way
to
dress
for
dinner
.
Esther
draws
a
sigh
of
relief
.
"
I
thought
that
some
one
was
coming
.
"
"
And
if
they
had
?
"
"
Why
,
I
did
not
relish
the
idea
of
being
found
driven
into
a
corner
,
like
a
child
at
a
dame
's
school
,
and
you
,
like
the
dame
,
standing
over
me
,
"
answers
she
,
abandoning
the
struggle
with
the
corners
of
her
mouth
,
and
bubbling
over
with
the
facile
laughter
of
seventeen
.
Utterly
unable
to
join
in
her
merriment
,
he
stands
leaning
in
awkward
misery
against
the
wall
;
all
other
griefs
are
at
least
respectable
;
love-sorrows
,
alone
,
are
only
ludicrous
.
"
It
really
is
so
silly
,
"
says
Esther
,
presently
,
compassionate
but
impatient
.
"
Do
try
and
get
the
better
of
it
!
"
"
Easier
said
than
done
,
"
he
answers
ruefully
.
"
I
might
as
well
advise
you
to
get
the
better
of
your
affection
for
Jack
.
"
"
I
do
n't
see
the
parallel
,
"
rejoined
she
,
coldly
,
feeling
as
if
there
was
sacrilege
in
the
comparison
.
"
My
love
for
Jack
is
a
natural
instinct
,
built
too
upon
the
foundation
of
lifelong
obligations
,
endless
benefits
,
countless
kindnesses
.
What
kindness
have
I
ever
shown
you
?
I
sewed
a
button
on
your
glove
once
,
and
once
I
pinned
a
rose
on
your
coat
.
"
"
I
have
the
rose
still
.
"
She
says
"
Pshaw
!
"
pettishly
,
and
turns
away
her
head
.
"
Perhaps
you
are
afraid
of
marrying
on
small
means
?
"
suggests
Brandon
,
diffidently
,
after
a
while
.
The
gentle
clatter
and
click
of
dishes
carried
into
the
dining-room
enters
faintly
through
the
shut
door
.
Esther
's
heart
sinks
within
her
.
Is
he
going
to
begin
all
over
again
?
—
round
and
round
,
like
a
thunderstorm
among
hills
?
"
I
am
afraid
of
marrying
on
any
means
,
"
she
says
,
comprehensively
.
"
I
particularly
dislike
the
idea
;
marriage
seems
to
me
the
end
of
everything
,
and
I
am
at
the
beginning
.
"
"
But
I
do
n't
want
you
to
marry
me
now
,
"
cries
Robert
,
stammering
.
"
Do
n't
you
?
You
told
me
just
now
that
you
did
.
"
"
For
pity
's
sake
,
Esther
,
do
n't
laugh
!
it
may
be
play
to
you
,
but
it
is
death
to
me
.
"
"
I
'm
not
laughing
.
"
"
Perhaps
some
day
you
will
feel
what
I
am
feeling
now
.
"
"
Perhaps
"
(
doubtfully
)
.
"
And
you
will
find
then
that
it
is
no
laughing
matter
.
"
"
Perhaps
"
(
still
more
doubtfully
)
.
The
clamour
of
a
fresh
cohort
of
plates
shaking
noisily
upon
a
tray
warns
Brandon
that
his
time
is
short
.
"
Esther
!
"
with
a
sort
of
despair
in
his
voice
,
clashing
the
ridiculous
with
the
pathetic
—
they
are
always
twin
sisters
—
"
I
could
live
upon
such
a
little
hope
.
"
"
What
would
you
have
me
say
?
"
she
cries
,
standing
with
fluttering
colour
,
tapping
feet
,
and
irritated
eyes
.
"
I
have
told
you
the
plain
truth
,
and
it
does
not
please
you
;
must
I
dress
up
some
pretty
falsehood
,
and
tell
you
that
I
fell
in
love
with
you
at
first
sight
,
or
that
after
all
I
find
that
you
are
the
only
man
in
the
world
that
can
make
me
really
happy
?
"
"
Say
nothing
of
the
kind
!
"
he
answers
,
wincing
under
her
irony
.
"
I
have
not
much
to
recommend
me
,
we
all
know
that
,
and
I
start
with
the
disadvantage
of
your
thinking
me
rather
a
bore
than
otherwise
;
but
other
men
have
overcome
even
greater
obstacles
;
why
should
not
I
?
Give
me
at
least
a
trial
!
"
She
is
silent
.
"
Say
that
you
will
try
to
like
me
;
there
need
be
no
untruth
in
that
.
"
"
But
if
I
fail
!
"
says
Esther
,
wavering
—
partly
in
sheer
weariness
of
the
contest
,
partly
in
womanly
pity
for
sufferings
which
owe
their
rise
to
the
excess
of
her
own
charms
.
"
If
you
fail
you
will
not
have
to
tell
me
so
;
I
shall
find
it
out
for
myself
,
and
—
and
I
shall
bear
it
,
I
suppose
.
"
He
ends
with
a
heavy
sigh
at
that
too
probable
possibility
.
"
And
you
will
console
yourself
by
telling
all
your
friends
what
a
flirt
I
am
,
and
how
ill
I
treated
you
.
"
Apparently
he
does
not
think
this
suggestion
worthy
of
refutation
;
at
least
he
does
not
refute
it
.
"
Or
,
if
you
do
n't
,
your
mother
will
.
"
"
Not
she
"
(
indignantly
)
.
"
Or
,
if
she
does
not
,
your
sisters
will
.
"
"
Not
they
"
(
less
indignantly
)
.
"
And
if
—
if
—
after
a
long
while
—
a
very
long
while
—
I
succeed
in
liking
you
a
little
—
mind
,
I
do
n't
say
that
I
shall
;
on
contrary
,
I
think
it
far
more
probable
that
I
shall
not
—
but
if
I
do
,
you
wo
n't
expect
me
to
marry
you
?
"
He
smiles
,
despite
himself
.
"
I
can
hardly
promise
that
.
"
"
I
mean
not
for
many
years
,
till
Jack
is
married
,
and
I
am
quite
,
quite
old
—
five-and-twenty
or
so
?
"
"
It
shall
be
as
you
wish
.
"
"
And
if
,
as
is
most
likely
,
I
continue
not
to
care
about
you
,
and
am
obliged
to
tell
you
so
,
you
will
not
think
the
worse
of
me
.
"
"
No.
"
"
You
are
certain
?
"
"
Certain
.
Whatever
you
do
,
I
shall
love
you
to-day
,
and
to-morrow
,
and
always
,
"
says
the
young
fellow
,
very
solemnly
;
and
his
eyes
go
away
past
her
,
through
the
window
,
and
up
to
the
blue
sky
overhead
,
as
if
calling
on
the
great
pale
vault
to
be
witness
between
him
and
her
.
As
for
her
,
her
prosaic
soul
has
wandered
back
to
the
mutton
;
she
takes
the
opportunity
of
his
eyes
being
averted
to
steal
a
glance
at
the
clock
.
Apparently
,
however
,
he
has
eyes
in
the
back
of
his
head
,
for
he
says
hastily
,
with
rather
a
pained
smile
:
"
You
are
longing
for
me
to
go
.
"
"
No
—
o
.
"
"
I
ought
not
to
have
come
at
this
time
of
night
.
I
ought
to
have
waited
till
to-morrow
,
I
know
.
"
"
It
is
rather
late
.
"
"
But
to-morrow
seemed
such
a
long
time
off
,
that
I
thought
I
must
know
the
worst
or
the
best
before
the
sun
came
up
again
.
I
do
n't
quite
know
which
it
is
now
;
which
is
it
,
Esther
?
"
"
It
's
neither
the
one
nor
the
other
;
it
's
the
second
best
,
"
she
answers
,
all
smiles
again
at
seeing
some
prospect
of
her
admirer
's
departure
,
and
forgetting
,
with
youthful
heedlessness
,
the
price
at
which
that
departure
has
been
bought
.
"
It
is
that
I
really
am
very
much
obliged
,
though
,
all
the
same
I
wish
you
would
think
better
of
it
,
and
that
I
'll
try
;
I
will
,
really
;
do
n't
look
as
if
you
did
not
believe
me
.
"
So
with
this
half-loaf
he
goes
,
passes
away
through
the
little
wooden
porch
,
that
is
so
low
it
looks
as
if
it
were
going
to
knock
his
tall
head
,
past
the
stables
,
and
through
the
oak
woods
,
home
CHAPTER
III
.
"
It
is
the
hour
when
from
the
boughs
The
nightingale
's
high
note
is
heard
;
It
is
the
hour
when
lovers
'
vows
Seem
sweet
in
every
whispered
word
—
"
As
saith
that
most
delicious
of
love
poems
that
makes
us
all
feel
immoral
as
we
read
it
.
It
is
the
hour
when
chanticleer
retires
to
his
perch
in
the
henhouse
,
lowers
his
proud
tail
,
sinks
his
neck
into
his
breast
,
and
goes
to
sleep
between
his
two
fattest
wives
.
It
is
the
hour
when
animal
life
and
wild
humanity
retire
to
bed
;
the
hour
when
tamed
humanity
sits
down
to
dinner
.
The
more
we
advance
in
civilisation
the
farther
back
we
push
the
boundaries
of
sleep
and
forgetfulness
.
When
we
reach
our
highest
point
of
culture
,
I
suppose
we
shall
hustle
the
blessed
,
the
divine
Nepenthe
,
off
the
face
of
the
earth
altogether
.
The
dining-room
at
Glan-yr-Afon
is
,
like
the
rest
of
the
house
,
rather
small
and
rather
pleasant
.
It
will
not
dine
more
than
twelve
comfortably
;
it
is
seldom
asked
to
dine
more
than
two
;
and
these
two
,
being
young
and
void
of
gluttony
,
do
not
spend
much
of
their
time
in
it
.
In
youth
the
dining-room
is
not
our
temple
,
our
sanctuary
,
our
holy
of
holies
,
as
it
often
is
in
riper
years
.
In
youth
our
souls
are
great
,
and
our
bodies
slender
;
in
old
age
our
bodies
are
often
great
and
our
souls
slender
.
The
one
wide
open
window
looks
on
the
gay
little
garden
—
the
window
,
all
around
and
about
which
the
climbing
convolvulus
is
blowing
great
white
trumpets
.
There
are
two
or
three
pictures
on
the
walls
;
good
ones
,
though
dim
and
dusty
.
Thomas
Wentworth
,
Lord
Strafford
,
very
dark
and
haughty
and
saturnine
,
in
blue
grey
armour
,
scowing
at
whosoever
looks
at
him
,
as
he
might
have
scowled
at
Pym
and
Hollis
.
Erasmus
,
astute
and
lean
,
in
a
black
skull
cap
:
and
Mary
,
Queen
of
Scots
,
very
pale
and
peaky
and
indistinct
,
for
time
has
washed
and
scrubbed
all
the
carmine
out
of
the
cheeks
and
lips
that
sent
Europe
mad
three
centuries
ago
.
An
old
sheep-dog
is
lying
on
the
hearth-rug
,
with
his
wise
old
eyes
fixed
on
his
master
,
licking
his
chops
every
now
and
then
when
he
sees
some
morsel
more
tempting
than
ordinary
conveyed
to
another
mouth
than
his
.
This
evening
Lord
Strafford
is
scowling
,
Mary
Stuart
simpering
,
down
upon
two
people
dining
together
,
and
on
a
third
person
whisking
about
in
a
clean
cap
and
an
aggressively
well-starched
print
dress
in
attendance
upon
them
.
There
is
a
great
pot
,
full
and
brimming
over
with
roses
—
a
beanpot
our
forefathers
would
have
called
it
—
in
the
middle
of
the
table
.
They
were
plucked
but
half
an
hour
ago
,
and
their
faces
were
still
wet
with
the
dew-tears
that
they
wept
at
being
torn
away
from
their
brothers
and
sisters
on
the
old
gnarled
rose
trees
up
the
kitchen-garden
walk
.
But
the
freshest
,
the
sweetest
,
the
largest
of
the
roses
is
not
in
the
beanpot
with
the
others
;
it
is
on
a
chair
by
itself
;
there
are
no
dew-tears
on
its
cheeks
,
it
has
no
prickles
,
and
its
name
is
Esther
.
"
Have
some
roast
chips
,
Essie
?
I
cannot
offer
you
any
roast
mutton
,
because
there
is
n't
any
;
I
dare
say
there
was
an
hour
ago
,
but
there
certainly
is
n't
now
.
"
This
speech
is
made
by
Jack
.
Jack
is
a
young
person
with
not
a
single
good
feature
in
his
face
;
with
a
baby
moustache
,
which
,
like
the
daguerreotypes
of
fifteen
or
sixteen
years
ago
,
is
only
visible
at
rare
intervals
in
one
particular
light
;
and
with
cheeks
and
nose
and
chin
and
throat
all
as
brown
as
any
berry
that
ever
ripened
under
the
mellow
autumn
sun
.
"
It
's
a
fault
on
the
right
side
,
dear
boy
;
it
's
better
than
quivering
and
being
purple
,
"
says
Esther
,
with
a
pout
which
a
lover
would
have
thought
entrancing
,
but
which
a
prosaic
brother
,
if
he
perceived
it
at
all
,
considered
rather
a
distortion
than
otherwise
.
"
I
wish
that
people
would
remember
that
there
is
a
time
to
call
and
a
time
to
dine
,
and
that
the
two
times
are
not
the
same
,
"
he
grumbles
,
a
little
crossly
.
A
man
may
bear
the
untimely
cutting
off
of
his
firstborn
,
the
disposition
evinced
by
the
wife
of
his
bosom
to
love
his
neighbour
as
himself
,
the
sinking
of
his
little
all
in
the
Agra
Bank
,
with
resignation
and
fortitude
truly
Christian
;
but
what
hero
,
what
sage
,
what
archbishop
,
can
stand
the
over-roasting
or
under-boiling
of
his
mutton
,
the
burning
of
his
soup
,
or
the
wateriness
of
his
potatoes
,
and
bear
an
æquam
mentem
"
Esther
looks
rather
conscious
,
purses
up
her
pink
mouth
into
the
shape
of
a
noiseless
"
Hush
!
"
and
says
"
Pas
avant
,
"
which
idiomatic
phrase
is
intended
to
convey
to
her
brother
the
indiscreetness
of
making
comments
in
Sarah
's
presence
on
Mr.
Brandon
's
enormities
.
From
long
familiarity
with
the
sound
,
Sarah
has
become
entirely
acquainted
with
Esther
's
specimen
of
Parisian
French
,
and
always
pricks
up
her
ears
when
it
appears
on
the
scene
.
Then
they
are
silent
for
a
little
space
.
One
is
not
apt
to
say
very
brilliant
things
in
one
's
family
circle
;
it
requires
the
friction
of
mind
with
mind
before
bright
sayings
spring
into
being
,
as
the
flint
and
the
steel
must
be
married
before
the
spark
leaps
into
life
.
"
How
long
the
days
are
now
!
"
Jack
says
presently
,
as
he
looks
out
on
the
evening
light
lying
like
a
great
bright
cloak
all
over
the
land
.
The
earth
is
so
very
fair
,
all
pranked
with
"
smalle
flowres
"
and
green
leaves
,
that
the
sun
is
grievously
loth
to
leave
her
.
Fair-weather
friend
as
he
is
,
he
cannot
be
in
too
great
a
hurry
to
desert
her
,
when
she
lies
poor
and
bare
and
faded
in
the
dull
November
days
.
"
One
always
says
that
this
time
of
year
,
"
Esther
says
,
smiling
.
"
It
would
be
much
more
worthy
remark
if
they
did
n't
get
longer
;
if
one
kept
a
journal
of
one
's
remarks
for
a
year
,
what
an
awful
tautology
there
would
be
in
them
!
What
a
pity
that
one
cannot
say
a
thing
once
for
all
,
and
have
done
with
it
!
"
"
If
you
resolved
never
to
say
anything
that
anybody
had
said
before
,
you
would
make
mighty
few
observations
,
I
take
it
,
"
Jack
answers
,
a
little
drily
.
"
Most
remarks
have
been
pretty
well
aired
in
the
course
of
the
last
six
thousand
years
,
I
fancy
.
"
So
,
with
a
little
flagging
talk
,
the
dinner
passes
,
and
the
modest
dessert
appears
:
scarlet
pyramids
of
strawberries
,
great
bag-shaped
British
Queens
,
and
little
racy
,
queer-tasted
hautbois
.
Sarah
retires
,
and
the
embargo
is
taken
off
Esther
's
speech
.
"
Is
she
gone
—
finally
gone
?
"
she
cries
,
very
eagerly
.
"
Heaven
be
praised
for
that
!
I
thought
she
would
never
have
done
clattering
those
spoons
.
Oh
,
Jack
,
what
a
heavy
weight
a
piece
of
news
is
to
carry
!
How
I
sympathise
with
the
woman
who
had
to
whisper
to
the
rushes
about
Midas
'
ears
!
I
have
been
dying
all
through
dinner
for
some
rushes
to
whisper
to
.
"
"
To
whisper
what
to
?
"
asks
the
boy
,
his
eyes
opening
very
wide
and
round
.
"
Jack
,
do
I
look
taller
than
usual
to-night
?
"
"
No.
"
"
Broader
?
"
"
Not
that
I
perceive
.
"
"
More
consequential
?
"
"
Much
as
usual
.
You
never
are
a
woman
with
'
a
presence
.
'
"
"
Is
is
possible
that
there
's
no
difference
at
all
in
me
?
"
"
None
whatever
;
except
that
,
now
I
look
at
you
,
your
cheeks
are
,
if
possible
,
redder
than
usual
.
Why
should
there
be
any
?
"
"
Because
"
(
drawing
herself
up
)
"
I
have
to-day
passed
a
turning-point
in
my
history
.
I
have
had
—
a
proposal
.
"
"
Who
from
?
—
one
of
the
haymakers
?
"
"
No.
That
would
not
have
surprised
me
much
more
,
though
.
Let
me
get
it
out
as
quick
as
I
can
,
now
that
the
string
of
my
tongue
is
loosed
.
Robert
Brandon
was
here
to-day
.
"
"
As
I
know
to
my
cost
,
"
says
Jack
,
with
rather
a
rueful
face
at
the
recollection
of
his
unpalatable
dinner
.
"
And
—
and
—
how
shall
I
word
it
prettiest
?
—
asked
me
to
be
his
.
"
"
The
devil
he
did
!
"
exclaims
Jack
,
surprised
into
strong
language
.
"
Yes
,
the
devil
he
did
!
as
you
epigrammatically
remark
.
"
"
And
you
,
what
answer
did
you
give
?
"
asks
the
boy
,
quickly
,
his
mouth
emulating
the
example
of
his
eyes
,
and
opening
wide
,
too
.
"
I
said
I
was
much
obliged
,
but
that
,
for
the
present
,
I
preferred
being
my
own
.
"
"
You
said
'
No
,
'
of
course
?
"
"
Yes
,
I
did
;
ever
so
many
'
Noes
.
'
I
did
not
count
them
,
but
I
'm
sure
their
name
was
Legion
.
"
Jack
gives
a
sigh
of
relief
,
and
throws
a
biscuit
to
the
ceaselessly
attent
sheep-dog
.
"
Poor
beggar
!
"
he
says
.
"
Here
,
Luath
,
old
man
.
You
old
muff
!
why
did
you
not
catch
it
?
He
is
as
good
a
fellow
as
ever
I
came
across
,
and
now
,
I
suppose
,
it
will
be
all
different
and
disagreeable
.
Hang
it
!
what
a
plague
women
are
!
"
"
But
,
Jack―
"
"
Well
,
Essie
,
not
done
yet
?
Any
more
unlucky
fellows
sent
off
with
their
tails
between
their
legs
?
"
"
No
,
no
;
but
,
Jack
"
(
looking
down
,
and
staining
her
fingers
with
the
henna
of
the
strawberries
)
,
"
I
—
I
'm
not
quite
sure
that
,
after
all
those
'
Noes
,
'
I
did
not
say
something
that
was
not
quite
'
No
.
'
"
"
That
was
'
Yes
?
'
"
"
No
,
not
'
Yes
'
either
;
not
positive
,
actual
'
Yes
;
'
something
betwixt
and
between
;
a
sort
of
possible
,
hypothetical
'
Yes
.
'
"
"
More
fool
you
!
"
said
Jack
,
briefly
.
"
Do
n't
scold
me
,
you
bad
boy
!
"
she
cries
,
running
over
to
him
and
putting
her
gentle
arms
about
his
neck
in
the
caressing
way
which
sisters
affect
so
much
,
and
which
brothers
,
in
general
,
disrelish
so
highly
,
"
or
I
vow
I
'll
cry
,
and
you
know
you
hate
that
.
"
"
I
hate
your
making
a
fool
of
yourself
worse
,
"
growls
Jack
,
mollified
,
but
struggling
.
"
I
say
,
you
need
not
strangle
a
fellow
.
"
"
Wait
till
I
do
make
a
fool
of
myself
,
"
she
says
,
very
gaily
.
"
I
'm
only
talking
about
it
as
yet
,
and
there
's
a
good
wide
ditch
between
saying
and
doing
.
"
"
More
shame
for
you
to
say
what
you
do
n't
mean
.
"
"
Jack
,
dear
boy
,
do
n't
you
know
that
I
hate
saying
things
that
vex
a
person
?
I
never
had
a
faculty
for
telling
people
home-truths
;
I
'd
far
sooner
tell
them
any
amount
of
stories
;
and
I
got
so
tired
of
saying
'
No
,
'
and
he
seemed
to
take
it
so
much
to
heart
,
that
I
said
'
Yes
,
'
just
for
a
change
—
just
for
peace
.
In
fact
,
'
anything
for
a
quiet
life
'
is
my
motto
.
"
"
And
may
I
ask
what
you
intend
to
live
upon
?
"
asks
Jack
(
the
romantic
side
of
whose
mind
lies
at
present
fallow
and
uncultivated
,
and
whose
thoughts
,
Briton-like
,
speedily
turn
from
"
love
's
young
dream
"
to
the
pound
,
shilling
,
and
pence
aspect
of
the
matter
)
.
"
On
love
,
to
be
sure
.
On
—
what
is
it
?
—
6s
.
6d
.
a
day
;
and
perhaps
I
may
take
in
soldiers
'
washing
,
"
Esther
says
,
bursting
out
into
a
violent
fit
of
laughing
.
"
Uncommonly
funny
,
no
doubt
!
"
Jack
says
,
laughing
too
,
but
sorely
against
his
will
.
"
And
do
you
mean
to
tell
me
that
you
like
Brandon
all
of
a
sudden
enough
to
be
such
an
abject
pauper
with
him
for
the
rest
of
your
days
?
Why
it
was
only
yesterday
that
you
were
laughing
at
him
,
saying
he
danced
like
a
pair
of
tongs
.
"
Esther
has
slidden
down
to
the
floor
,
and
sits
there
tailor-fashion
.
"
I
do
n't
mean
to
tell
you
anything
of
the
kind
,
"
she
answers
,
gravely
.
"
Poor
dear
fellow
!
—
it
is
very
odious
of
me
—
but
between
you
and
me
I
think
I
should
survive
it
if
I
were
to
know
that
I
should
never
see
him
again
;
only
,
please
do
n't
tell
him
I
said
so
.
"
"
Love
,
who
to
none
beloved
to
love
again
remits
—
"
she
repeats
softly
,
musing
to
herself
;
"
that
is
a
very
lovely
line
,
but
it
is
horribly
untrue
.
"
"
What
do
you
mean
to
do
then
,
if
it
is
not
an
impertinent
question
?
"
asks
Jack
,
throwing
back
his
young
head
,
and
looking
in
an
inquisitorial
manner
at
the
penitent
at
his
feet
from
under
his
eyelids
.
"
Marry
a
man
that
you
do
n't
like
,
and
who
has
not
a
farthing
to
keep
you
on
,
merely
because
he
is
the
first
person
that
asked
you
?
"
"
Nothing
is
farther
from
my
intentions
,
"
says
Esther
,
getting
rather
red
.
"
And
how
unkind
of
you
to
twit
me
with
my
dearth
of
admirers
.
I
mean
you
to
interpose
your
parental
authority
and
forbid
the
banns
;
I
intend
to
shift
the
odium
of
the
transaction
on
to
your
shoulders
,
"
she
says
,
relapsing
into
levity
,
—
"
poor
,
dear
shoulders
!
"
(
patting
them
very
fondly
)
"
they
are
not
very
wide
,
but
they
are
broader
than
mine
,
at
all
events
;
to
them
I
transfer
my
difficulties
.
"
"
That
you
sha
n't
!
"
cries
Jack
,
with
animation
,
shaking
off
her
hand
,
and
looking
very
indignant
and
honest
.
"
You
are
to
do
shabby
things
,
and
I
am
to
have
the
credit
of
them
!
Thanks
,
very
much
,
but
I
do
n't
admire
that
division
of
labour
.
I
do
n't
think
I
ever
heard
a
meaner
proposition
.
"
Esther
's
little
head
,
rich
in
a
soft
plenitude
of
dusky
love-locks
,
sinks
low
down
towards
her
lap
;
she
is
very
easily
snubbed
,
especially
by
Jack
.
"
A
nice
name
you
'll
make
for
yourself
,
Miss
Essie
,
"
pursues
the
young
Solomon
,
severely
,
still
brandishing
the
metaphorical
birch-rod
over
his
sister
.
"
I
expect
you
'll
make
the
country
too
hot
to
hold
us
in
a
short
time
.
"
Esther
lifts
up
two
sudden
,
tearful
eyes
,
that
look
like
great
jewels
seen
through
running
water
,
and
says
,
piteously
,
"
But
,
Jack
,
you
know
,
as
you
said
just
now
,
it
was
the
first
time
;
one
never
does
things
well
the
first
time
one
tries
;
one
is
always
clumsy
at
them
;
I
shall
know
better
next
time
.
"
"
I
do
n't
see
what
'
next
time
'
you
are
likely
to
have
,
"
says
Jack
,
inexorable
in
his
young
severity
.
"
It
will
be
rather
late
in
the
day
for
people
to
propose
to
you
when
you
are
Bob
Brandon
's
half-starved
or
whole-starved
wife
.
"
"
But
I
'm
not
,
Jack
,
"
cries
Esther
,
very
eagerly
.
She
looks
grave
enough
now
;
rather
alarmed
at
the
little
gay
sketch
her
brother
has
drawn
of
her
future
destiny
.
"
I
'm
not
going
to
marry
him
or
any
one
else
,
ever
.
Do
you
think
I
'd
leave
you
to
marry
the
Angel
Gabriel
,
if
he
came
down
from
heaven
on
purpose
to
ask
me
?
"
"
Why
did
you
tell
Brandon
that
you
would
then
?
"
asks
the
young
fellow
,
not
a
bit
disarmed
by
her
sweet
flattery
.
"
I
did
not
tell
him
so
;
I
said
I
would
try
;
but
even
if
I
do
try
,
I
need
not
succeed
;
and
even
if
I
do
manage
to
get
up
a
sort
of
liking
for
him
,
I
need
not
marry
him
.
You
are
in
such
a
hurry
to
jump
at
conclusions
;
there
's
the
beauty
of
his
being
so
poor
,
do
n't
you
see
?
He
cannot
expect
me
to
marry
him
,
when
he
has
no
bread
and
butter
to
put
into
my
mouth
.
"
"
Then
why
be
engaged
to
him
at
all
,
my
good
girl
?
"
asks
honest
Jack
,
rather
bewildered
by
these
new
lights
—
these
subtleties
on
the
subject
of
betrothal
.
"
Why
do
people
give
babies
gin
?
—
it
is
not
good
for
them
,
but
it
keeps
them
quiet
;
that
is
precisely
my
principle
.
Being
engaged
to
me
may
not
be
good
for
Robert
,
but
it
is
gin
to
him
;
it
keeps
him
quiet
,
"
answers
Esther
,
on
the
battle-field
of
whose
small
face
smiles
and
tears
are
fighting
.
Her
brother
does
not
seem
to
see
the
beauty
of
this
in
genious
mode
of
reasoning
in
a
very
strong
light
.
"
I
wo
n't
have
you
playing
fast
and
loose
with
him
,
"
he
says
,
very
decisively
,
shaking
a
stern
young
head
—
stern
,
despite
its
curliness
and
its
total
dearth
of
those
care-lines
that
are
supposed
to
be
Wisdom
's
harsh
footprints
.
"
He
is
much
too
good
a
fellow
to
be
played
tricks
with
;
mind
that
,
Miss
Esther
!
"
"
I
have
not
the
slightest
desire
in
life
to
play
tricks
with
him
;
if
I
ever
do
play
tricks
,
I
hope
it
will
be
with
some
one
more
amusing
,
"
answers
Essie
,
very
pettishly
,
looking
excessively
mutine
and
ill-humoured
.
"
I
do
n't
care
if
I
never
hear
his
ugly
name
again
;
he
has
spoilt
the
dinner
and
made
you
as
cross
as
two
sticks
;
and
—
and
—
I
wish
he
was
dead
,
that
I
do
!
"
concludes
happy
Mr.
Brandon
's
fiancée
weeping
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
MORNING
is
come
again
.
The
sun
cannot
bear
to
be
long
away
from
his
young
sweetheart
,
the
earth
,
so
he
has
come
back
hasting
,
with
royal
pomp
,
with
his
crown
of
gay
gold
beams
on
his
head
,
with
his
flame-cloak
about
his
strong
shoulders
,
and
with
a
great
troop
of
light
,
flaky
clouds
—
each
with
a
reflex
of
his
red
smile
on
its
courtier
face
—
at
his
back
.
He
has
come
back
to
see
himself
in
the
laughing
blue
eyes
of
her
seas
and
streams
,
and
to
rest
at
noontide
,
like
a
sleepy
giant
,
on
her
warm
green
lap
.
The
daily
miracle
—
the
miracle
that
none
can
contest
,
to
which
all
are
witness
,
has
been
worked
—
the
resurrection
of
the
world
.
And
this
resurrection
is
not
partial
,
not
limited
to
humanity
,
as
that
final
one
is
towards
which
the
eyes
of
the
Christian
church
have
been
looking
steadfastly
for
eighteen
centuries
and
a
half
;
but
every
beast
and
bird
and
flower
has
shaken
off
Death
's
sweet
semblance
,
his
gentle
counterfeit
,
and
is
feeling
,
in
bounding
vein
and
rushing
sap
,
the
ecstatic
bliss
of
the
mystery
of
life
.
If
we
never
slept
,
we
should
not
know
the
joy
of
waking
;
if
we
never
woke
,
we
should
not
know
the
joy
of
sleep
.
How
,
I
marvel
,
shall
we
feel
the
happiness
of
heaven
,
if
we
never
lose
,
and
consequently
regain
it
?
The
thrushes
and
blackbirds
are
already
in
the
midst
of
their
glees
and
madrigals
and
part
songs
.
They
sing
the
same
songs
every
day
,
so
that
they
are
quite
perfect
in
them
;
and
they
are
all
very
joyful
ones
.
In
their
sweet
flute-language
there
are
no
words
expressive
of
sorrow
or
pain
;
they
know
of
no
minor
key
.
There
were
twenty
roses
born
last
night
,
and
the
flowers
are
all
rejoicing
greatly
.
They
are
smiling
and
whispering
and
gossiping
together
;
the
sweet
peas
,
like
pink
and
purple
butterflies
,
"
...
.
on
tiptoe
for
a
flight
,
With
wings
of
delicate
flush
o'er
virgin
white
,
"
each
half-inclined
to
hover
away
with
the
young
west
wind
that
is
sighing
such
a
little
gentle
story
all
about
himself
into
their
ears
.
The
lambs
,
grown
so
big
and
woolly
that
one
