thanpoor
Arnold
.
”
“
Some
of
them
,
”
she
said
after
a
moment
,
“
are
good
,
and
some
are
bad
:
my
brother‐in‐law
was
bad
—
Arnold
was
good
,
and
Walter
is
good
;
but
they
are
all
as
weak
as
water
,
these
Hamlins
—
weak
in
goodness
or
badness
,
every
one
of
them
.
”
Anne
sighed
.
And
as
she
walked
through
the
big
,
stately
rooms
of
Wotton
House
,
she
thought
of
the
horrible
scenes
which
had
happened
in
there
;
of
the
waste
of
life
by
violence
and
vice
and
neglect
which
they
had
witnessed
;
especially
of
that
wretched
,
vicious
child
,
held
so
terribly
responsible
for
the
folly
and
wickedness
of
others
.
And
the
sense
of
the
terrible
power
of
circumstances
,
of
the
degradation
into
which
others
may
lead
one
,
or
out
of
which
others
may
raise
one
,
which
had
been
silently
growing
in
her
as
she
watched
the
world
in
her
tragic
way
,
came
over
her
with
a
terrifying
rush
;
and
she
felt
,
half
in
anxiety
at
scarcely
escaped
danger
,
half
in
joy
at
safety
,
a
tumult
of
gratitude
when
she
remembered
how
Walter
Hamlin
had
raised
her
up
,
led
her
out
of
the
way
of
all
temptation
and
evil
contact
,
and
left
her
safe
and
strong
as
she
knew
herself
to
be
.
CHAPTER
VI
.
As
the
summer
changed
into
autumn
,
the
guests
at
Wotton
Hall
were
gradually
renewed
.
Chough
remained
,
and
at
Anne’s
particular
desire
sent
for
his
two
little
girls
,
sad
,
strange
,
Cockney
creatures
,
to
whom
the
large
house
,
the
garden
,
the
country
walks
and
country
sights
,
were
as
things
of
another
world
.
But
the
Spencers
,
Dennistoun
,
and
O’Reilly
departed
;
and
in
their
place
arrived
the
two
Leigh
girls
and
Edmund
Lewis
.
The
last‐named
gentleman
did
not
by
any
means
strike
Anne
as
a
fascinating
being
.
He
was
a
stumpy
,
high‐shouldered
,
thick‐set
little
man
,
always
very
slackly
dressed
,
with
small
,
rather
handsome
features
,
and
a
profusion
of
curly
reddish
hair
and
beard
,
which
made
his
face
look
even
more
like
unbaked
dough
than
it
might
otherwise
have
done
.
Some
people
considered
him
very
handsome
,
and
it
was
obvious
that
he
himself
felt
as
if
he
were
tall
;
for
he
stumped
and
slouched
in
and
out
of
rooms
with
his
hands
in
his
pockets
,
and
dropped
on
to
chairs
and
sofas
with
the
heavy
importance
of
gait
of
a
Hercules
.
Nothing
could
be
more
comic
than
the
contrast
between
this
lumbering
and
solemn
redhaired
dwarf
and
Cosmo
Chough
,
black
,
fierce
,
alert
,
courteous
,
and
grandiloquent
.
Lewis
was
silent
;
but
when
he
spoke
he
fixed
his
handsome
eyes
searchingly
upon
one
,
and
either
trailed
his
voice
along
with
slow
emphasis
,
or
answered
in
monosyllables
,
which
left
in
you
an
uncomfortable
feeling
of
having
made
some
inappropriate
or
impertinent
remark
.
He
had
,
moreover
,
lips
of
the
colour
of
the
very
best
sealing‐wax
;
a
peculiarity
which
,
while
decidedly
adding
to
the
pictorial
value
of
a
red‐haired
man
,
has
a
something
quite
particularly
repulsive
to
certain
people
,
among
whom
Anne
Brown
must
be
counted
.
However
,
she
tried
to
like
Mr
Lewis
.
In
some
respects
he
was
a
more
genuine
personality
than
Chough
,
or
Dennistoun
,
or
almost
any
other
of
Hamlin’s
æsthetic
friends
.
He
did
not
make
himself
up
—
manner
,
appearance
,
ideas
,
or
words
—
to
look
like
anything
which
he
was
not
,
or
at
all
events
which
he
did
not
thoroughly
believe
himself
to
be
;
and
he
was
,
moreover
,
much
more
in
the
way
of
will
and
definite
tendencies
,
and
felt
himself
(
however
mistakenly
)
to
be
much
more
in
the
way
of
power
,
character
,
and
importance
,
than
any
other
man
whom
Anne
had
ever
come
across
,
except
her
cousin
Richard
,
between
whom
and
Edmund
Lewis
there
existed
,
despite
a
thousand
differences
,
a
certain
resemblance
.
And
perhaps
it
was
exactly
this
resemblance
to
Richard
Brown
,
—
a
man
whom
Anne
did
not
exactly
like
,
nay
,
who
even
occasionally
repelled
her
a
little
,
but
of
whose
power
and
truthfulness
and
generosity
Anne
could
not
doubt
,
—
perhaps
it
was
this
resemblance
,
however
vague
it
might
be
,
which
made
Anne
for
some
time
believe
that
Edmund
Lewis
,
little
as
he
pleased
her
,
might
be
a
remarkable
sort
of
man
,
and
treat
Chough’s
insinuations
against
him
as
merely
another
instance
of
that
childish
unreasonableness
of
likings
and
dislikings
,
which
,
together
with
vanity
and
weakness
of
will
,
she
had
got
to
associate
with
a
poetic
endowment
.
Over
Hamlin
,
at
all
events
,
Edmund
Lewis
had
an
undeniable
influence
;
an
influence
which
he
himself
avowedly
attributed
to
his
magnetic
powers
,
which
he
would
exert
,
or
imagine
that
he
exerted
,
sitting
lazily
opposite
his
friends
or
victims
,
staring
vaguely
at
them
and
speaking
in
his
slow
,
important
voice
.
He
was
a
painter
,
in
an
irregular
sort
of
way
,
himself
,
and
took
much
more
interest
in
Hamlin’s
art
than
in
his
poetry
;
so
that
Hamlin
,
who
was
sick
of
versifying
for
the
moment
,
had
a
fit
of
painting
once
more
,
and
spent
hours
locked
up
in
his
studio
with
Lewis
,
while
poor
Cosmo
Chough
was
more
and
more
thrown
upon
Anne
and
her
friends
.
But
the
girls
had
got
to
understand
Chough
,
and
the
fund
of
kindness
and
self‐sacrificing
gentleness
which
was
hidden
beneath
the
little
man’s
poetical
thin‐skinnedness
and
the
queer
poetical
veneer
of
mystic
wickedness
which
he
himself
did
not
understand
.
He
could
not
by
any
possibility
be
broken
of
his
tendency
to
talk
overmuch
about
Messalina
,
Lucretia
Borgia
,
and
La
Belle
Heaulmière
;
but
by
this
time
it
was
quite
obvious
that
he
had
not
the
smallest
experience
of
ladies
of
any
such
character
,
still
less
the
faintest
thought
of
giving
offence
by
his
allusions
to
them
.
To
Anne
he
was
utterly
devoted
:
he
was
fascinated
by
her
beauty
,
afraid
of
its
tragic
earnestness
,
afraid
of
her
downright
,
quiet
manner
,
afraid
of
her
silent
contemptuousness
,
of
her
uncompromising
censoriousness
;
but
if
ever
a
person
appreciated
Anne’s
kindness
,
her
energy
,
her
imperious
desire
of
helping
others
,
it
was
Chough
.
Anne
had
often
spoken
to
him
about
the
neglected
education
of
his
little
girls
;
not
reproachfully
,
for
she
knew
but
too
well
on
what
it
depended
,
but
trying
to
stir
him
up
to
resist
the
sort
of
fatality
which
seemed
to
hang
over
his
family
concerns
.
And
now
she
insisted
on
taking
the
children’s
education
into
her
own
hands
,
until
Chough
should
be
able
to
afford
sending
them
to
a
proper
school
.
Perhaps
the
thought
of
that
neglected
,
unconsciously
corrupted
,
terribly
responsible
little
heathen
girl
,
who
had
done
so
much
mischief
in
Wotton
Hall
fifteen
years
before
,
had
something
to
do
with
Anne’s
energetic
behaviour
towards
the
little
Choughs
—
to
whom
,
every
morning
regularly
,
she
gave
a
two
hours’
lesson
in
grammar
and
writing
and
history
,
as
complete
as
if
she
had
been
a
schoolmistress
and
they
her
pupils
;
until
their
father
,
astonished
at
their
unexpected
development
of
human
faculties
,
took
it
in
his
head
to
turn
them
into
first‐rate
musicians
,
and
actually
got
up
at
six
in
the
morning
to
teach
them
the
piano
,
while
Hamlin
and
Lewis
were
still
asleep
.
Marjory
Leigh
,
who
had
considered
Anne
in
the
light
of
an
irresponsible
but
decidedly
objectionable
æsthetic
villain
on
her
departure
from
London
,
looked
on
in
puzzled
amazement
.
She
could
not
understand
how
any
one
so
beautiful
,
so
versed
in
useless
literature
and
useless
art
,
any
one
whom
her
foolish
elder
sister
foolishly
adored
,
could
be
anxious
and
able
to
make
herself
of
use
in
the
world
.
And
even
Mary
Leigh
,
in
her
gentle
,
ironical
way
,
was
astonished
at
Anne’s
new
vocation
,
and
adored
her
all
the
more
enthusiastically
for
it
.
Mrs
Macgregor
hinted
,
in
her
affectionate
cynical
manner
,
that
Anne
was
mistaking
for
a
desire
to
be
useful
to
Chough’s
children
the
mere
imperious
necessity
of
caring
for
some
one
,
which
was
the
vicarious
form
of
love
;
and
prophesied
archly
that
,
once
married
,
Anne
would
soon
be
satisfied
with
uselessness
.
Anne
smiled
contemptuously
at
Mrs
Macgregor’s
theories
.
Yet
she
was
as
unaware
as
was
Mrs
Macgregor
herself
,
that
there
was
indeed
an
imperious
necessity
in
her
nature
—
a
necessity
more
personal
,
more
selfish
,
and
more
terrible
than
her
mere
desire
to
be
of
use
.
In
these
four
months
Anne
had
gradually
,
and
hitherto
unconsciously
,
ceased
to
love
Hamlin
as
she
had
formerly
loved
him
.
Like
many
of
the
most
powerful
and
passionate
natures
,
Anne
had
a
fatal
tendency
to
love
ideally
and
love
the
ideal
;
not
so
much
to
invest
with
unreal
qualities
the
object
of
her
passion
,
but
to
conceive
a
passion
for
an
impersonal
creation
of
her
own
,
an
amalgamation
of
her
own
ardent
and
confused
aspirations
after
an
unknown
excellence
;
and
then
to
identify
the
object
of
this
strange
intellectual
and
moral
passion
with
the
first
real
person
who
struck
her
as
excellent
and
noble
and
beautiful
,
or
who
appealed
strongly
to
her
sympathies
and
her
gratitude
.
Of
love
in
the
ordinary
sense
,
such
a
nature
is
wellnigh
incapable
;
and
the
devotion
due
to
real
imperfect
creatures
,
pity
and
sympathy
with
weakness
,
the
devotion
due
to
a
sense
of
duty
,
although
it
may
be
intense
and
tender
in
such
people
,
comes
only
on
later
,
when
the
first
splendid
idol
has
been
shattered
,
and
whatever
passion
there
is
must
be
given
,
in
humbleness
or
sorrow
,
to
the
unsatisfying
realities
of
this
world
.
With
such
a
nature
and
such
tendencies
,
Anne
had
been
met
,
when
young
,
ignorant
,
and
friendless
,
by
an
indistinct
yet
real
personality
—
by
Hamlin
,
who
had
done
for
her
more
than
any
other
man
had
ever
done
for
a
woman
;
and
in
this
vaguely
seen
Hamlin
,
known
at
first
only
as
a
servant
knows
the
brilliant
guest
of
the
house
,
a
model
the
painter
to
whom
she
is
sitting
—
and
then
known
at
a
distance
,
in
letters
which
were
the
unreal
efflorescence
of
a
poet’s
mind
,
—
in
this
vaguely
seen
Hamlin
,
to
whom
she
owed
her
new
life
,
and
who
was
surrounded
by
all
the
beautiful
things
and
ideas
which
that
new
life
represented
,
Anne
Brown
had
incarnated
the
ideal
of
good
and
beauty
towards
which
her
simple
,
self‐unconscious
,
energetic
soul
so
strenuously
aspired
.
Such
a
love
as
this
must
be
transformed
into
something
less
exalted
,
or
must
die
out
unsatisfied
,
whatever
the
person
who
feels
it
or
the
person
with
whom
it
is
connected
:
the
real
,
however
excellent
,
can
never
satisfy
the
craving
after
the
ideal
;
a
living
individual
can
never
quiet
desires
which
have
no
individual
object
,
which
are
mere
dumb
and
violent
activities
of
a
too
powerful
soul
.
But
Anne
was
not
the
kind
of
woman
in
whom
simpler
and
less
exacting
instincts
,
in
whom
ordinary
love
,
can
gradually
supplant
such
an
ideal
passion
;
and
what
was
worse
,
Hamlin
was
not
the
man
who
could
substitute
for
an
impossible
and
unapproachable
creature
of
the
imagination
,
a
less
perfect
,
but
more
appealing
,
more
attaching
,
more
lovable
creature
of
reality
.
No
man
that
ever
breathed
could
have
satisfied
cravings
which
were
in
reality
not
after
a
man
,
but
after
a
higher
life
,
a
more
complete
activity
,
a
nobler
aim
;
but
Hamlin
fell
short
not
merely
of
Anne’s
ideal
,
but
also
,
in
many
things
,
even
of
the
reality
of
Anne
herself
,
and
of
all
she
could
understand
and
sympathise
with
.
The
ecstatic
devotion
had
speedily
given
way
in
her
to
a
more
sober
kind
of
admiration
and
affection
;
but
now
,
little
by
little
,
that
also
was
being
invaded
,
transformed
piecemeal
here
and
there
,
by
doubt
,
contempt
,
and
disgust
.
Anne’s
eyes
had
gradually
opened
to
the
fact
that
Hamlin
was
vain
,
thin‐skinned
,
professionally
jealous
,
and
afraid
of
the
judgment
,
as
he
was
avid
of
the
praise
,
of
his
own
inferiors
;
and
that
,
in
the
negative
line
,
he
was
without
strong
likings
,
enthusiasms
,
or
aspirations
;
and
the
negative
qualities
affected
her
more
than
the
positive
ones
:
to
her
the
coldness
of
Hamlin’s
sympathies
was
more
painful
than
the
weakness
of
his
nature
.
Vaguely
and
gradually
these
things
had
dawned
upon
Anne
;
and
she
could
no
more
deny
their
existence
than
she
could
persuade
herself
that
a
grey
English
autumn
day
was
brilliant
as
an
Italian
summer
morning
.
But
of
late
things
had
happened
,
like
that
incident
of
the
suppressed
“
Ballad
of
the
Fens
,
”
and
of
the
self‐slandering
sonnets
which
Hamlin
looked
upon
with
such
complacency
,
which
had
given
her
glimpses
into
something
worse
than
she
could
well
believe
in
,
worse
than
she
had
the
heart
to
look
into
.
These
she
cast
behind
her
,
thinking
of
them
as
little
as
possible
,
trying
to
consider
them
as
hallucinations
,
or
at
all
events
,
gross
exaggerations
of
her
own
:
she
must
have
misunderstood
;
such
things
could
not
be
.
She
tried
to
settle
her
love
of
Hamlin
on
a
real
and
more
solid
basis
.
She
fully
admitted
to
herself
that
Hamlin
had
weaknesses
,
—
the
weaknesses
which
she
remarked
in
so
many
of
the
men
around
him
,
—
weaknesses
going
together
with
the
fine
qualities
of
the
poet’s
nature
,
—
weaknesses
which
,
Anne
was
beginning
to
suspect
,
every
one
had
(
forgetting
that
she
had
not
)
,
or
at
least
something
equivalent
thereunto
.
She
admitted
to
herself
that
Hamlin
was
weak
;
nay
,
to
do
so
was
a
sort
of
relief
.
That
Hamlin
should
come
of
a
family
infirm
of
will
and
often
vicious
,
that
he
should
have
been
brought
up
surrounded
by
vice
and
violence
engendered
by
weakness
;
this
notion
,
due
partly
to
her
own
observations
,
and
confirmed
by
Mrs
Macgregor’s
confidences
,
explained
so
much
away
,
and
left
room
for
so
much
:
it
explained
all
the
wretched
part
of
his
nature
,
it
left
room
for
all
the
good
,
for
the
gentleness
,
the
generosity
,
the
chivalric
spirit
which
had
made
Anne
what
she
was
;
and
it
let
her
hope
,
every
now
and
then
,
that
better
might
be
in
store
.
For
since
the
evil
was
merely
negative
and
the
good
so
thorough
and
so
positive
,
surely
the
good
would
vanquish
the
evil
.
And
,
looking
at
the
people
who
surrounded
Hamlin
,
—
at
these
vain
,
weak
,
unreal
poets
and
artists
,
at
this
whole
school
of
people
who
,
whatever
their
private
life
,
affected
to
live
only
for
selfish
enjoyment
of
beauty
and
selfish
interest
in
sin
,
—
Anne
used
often
to
think
that
Hamlin
was
in
the
position
of
a
sort
of
Rinaldo
,
the
noblest
of
all
heroes
,
degraded
into
mean
sloth
by
the
Armida
of
æstheticism
,
but
requiring
only
the
shrill
of
the
trumpet
and
the
clash
of
arms
from
the
real
living
world
to
be
redeemed
and
to
show
himself
in
his
real
nobility
.
She
would
even
exaggerate
her
aversion
or
contempt
for
Hamlin’s
companions
and
for
his
school
;
the
worse
they
were
,
the
more
excuse
for
him
;
and
she
would
often
sit
dreaming
of
the
way
in
which
he
might
be
gradually
got
from
under
their
influence
,
and
brought
in
contact
with
those
stronger
,
more
healthy
,
or
more
terrible
realities
,
which
Anne’s
nature
,
by
a
kind
of
occult
sympathy
,
felt
in
the
world
all
round
,
as
the
birds
and
insects
will
feel
the
storm
which
is
still
invisible
beyond
the
hills
,
but
which
is
coming
to
purify
,
and
shake
,
and
revive
.
And
so
Anne
went
on
loving
and
hoping
,
and
believing
herself
to
be
happy
.
But
there
began
to
be
a
strange
restlessness
about
her
;
a
desire
to
be
useful
,
to
be
perpetually
active
in
something
,
to
be
always
trying
to
understand
,
and
sympathise
,
and
help
—
an
imperious
necessity
not
to
be
left
to
her
own
thoughts
(
those
thoughts
which
had
once
been
like
a
paradise
,
in
which
solitude
was
the
highest
bliss
)
.
For
,
alone
with
her
own
thoughts
,
Anne
was
beginning
to
experience
an
intolerable
sense
of
isolation
,
and
intolerable
sense
of
impotence
.
CHAPTER
VII
.
IN
this
condition
of
mind
Anne
was
violently
impelled
towards
the
two
Leigh
girls
;
and
strongly
induced
to
take
an
aversion
to
Edmund
Lewis
.
For
the
Leighs
represented
every
day
more
and
more
the
influence
which
was
strengthening
her
,
the
influence
which
might
revive
Hamlin
;
and
Edmund
Lewis
seemed
sent
as
an
incarnation
of
those
tendencies
which
,
in
her
belief
,
had
marred
the
nobility
of
Hamlin’s
nature
.
Anne’s
unmistakable
desire
to
know
what
was
going
on
in
the
striving
and
suffering
world
outside
the
strongholds
of
æstheticism
,
to
help
in
it
to
her
utmost
;
to
be
,
what
the
people
believing
only
in
beauty
and
passion
could
not
conceive
,
responsible
,
—
all
this
intense
striving
got
the
better
of
Marjory
Leigh’s
prejudices
.
She
began
to
understand
that
she
had
found
in
Anne
a
zealous
lieutenant
;
nay
,
after
some
time
,
the
conscientious
though
somewhat
pig‐headed
and
conceited
young
philanthropist
admitted
to
herself
that
Anne
was
a
force
for
work
and
good
which
dragged
even
her
along
,
making
her
,
by
the
influence
of
her
complete
unselfishness
,
self‐unconsciousness
,
and
energy
,
more
ready
to
examine
into
her
own
mode
of
doing
things
,
to
sift
her
vanity
from
her
humanitarianism
.
“
Anne
does
make
one
less
conceited
,
”
Marjory
one
day
remarked
to
her
sister
,
waking
up
from
a
long
reverie
—
“
less
conceited
and
less
narrow
,
I
do
believe
.
It’s
such
a
revelation
;
and
somehow
it
makes
one
feel
just
a
little
bit
ashamed
,
to
find
such
honesty
and
determination
in
an
æsthete
.
After
that
,
people
don’t
seem
to
be
so
hopelessly
lost
—
do
they
?
I
fear
I
must
have
been
a
rather
bigoted
sort
of
brute
formerly
,
”
and
Marjory
pushed
her
fingers
through
her
short
,
lank
yellow
hair
,
and
looked
up
at
her
sister
with
her
childish
,
resolute
,
defiant
face
,
not
yet
puzzled
by
the
sad
experience
of
the
difficulty
of
doing
good
,
and
of
the
dangerousness
of
even
the
wisest
theories
.
Mary
Leigh
smiled
.
She
was
proud
of
her
little
sister
;
and
she
was
,
in
a
sort
of
a
way
,
in
love
with
Anne
Brown
.
Marjory
thought
her
rather
æsthetic
and
spiritless
,
she
knew
;
and
Anne
was
absorbed
in
her
own
thoughts
;
but
Mary
Leigh
was
one
of
those
girls
who
can
resign
themselves
cheerfully
to
being
second
best
,
as
long
as
they
are
the
best
in
their
power
—
to
be
happy
in
her
devotion
,
even
if
it
be
unreciprocated
;
and
she
was
happy
,
in
a
subdued
way
—
proud
of
Marjory
and
adoring
Anne
,
and
seeing
that
the
two
somewhat
unresponsive
objects
of
her
love
could
now
appreciate
one
another
.
So
much
for
the
Leighs
.
But
if
their
presence
at
Wotton
was
a
support
and
a
consolation
to
Anne
,
the
presence
of
Edmund
Lewis
very
soon
grew
to
be
a
positive
source
of
disgust
.
At
first
,
in
his
egotistic
,
silently
brow‐beating
way
,
he
was
an
interesting
visitor
.
He
had
travelled
and
read
a
good
deal
,
and
,
in
point
of
fact
,
knew
much
more
about
literature
than
about
his
own
art
.
His
imagination
turned
easily
to
the
terrible
;
he
considered
Webster
as
greater
than
Shakespeare
,
and
Ford
as
greater
than
Webster
;
he
had
personal
experiences
of
more
or
less
criminal
persons
,
whose
acquaintance
,
for
the
sake
of
morbid
psychology
,
he
had
sought
,
and
whose
characteristics
he
had
lovingly
studied
;
while
in
reality
mild
and
even
milk‐soppish
in
his
habits
,
he
seemed
to
experience
a
fascination
from
violence
and
bloodshed
.
For
a
week
or
so
he
was
decidedly
interesting
,
if
not
,
to
Anne
and
her
two
girl‐friends
,
attractive
.
But
hostility
soon
arose
.
He
was
a
fervid
spiritualist
,
and
a
great
adept
in
mesmerising
;
his
vanity
made
him
see
mediums
,
victims
of
his
will‐power
,
everywhere
.
He
immediately
discovered
one
in
Anne
,
and
begged
to
be
permitted
to
try
his
tricks
,
as
Marjory
Leigh
called
them
.
Now
,
if
there
was
one
thing
which
was
more
abhorrent
to
Anne
than
any
other
,
it
was
spiritualism
:
averse
to
mysticism
like
every
Italian
;
prosaic
and
common‐sense
,
perhaps
just
in
proportion
to
the
idealism
of
passion
and
aspiration
,
she
was
impatient
of
the
vulgar
mysteriousness
of
modern
magic
;
while
at
the
same
time
her
powerful
personality
,
her
austere
will
(
which
she
always
recognised
as
the
most
precious
part
of
her
nature
)
,
which
took
umbrage
at
Mrs
Macgregor’s
theories
of
obedience
to
mere
physical
passions
,
was
positively
insulted
by
the
notion
of
surrender
to
the
perfectly
unintellectual
will
of
another
.
However
,
she
let
Lewis
try
.
During
his
performance
,
as
he
fixed
his
green
eyes
upon
her
,
and
made
passes
with
his
flabby
white
fingers
,
Anne
felt
a
loathing
as
if
a
slug
were
trailing
over
her
,
but
she
sat
unaffected
by
Mr
Lewis’s
will‐power
,
and
at
last
wearied
out
his
patience
.
“
You
resisted
!
—
I
felt
you
resist
!
”
cried
Lewis
angrily
,
at
the
end
of
the
séance
.
“
There
was
nothing
to
resist
against
,
”
answered
Anne
,
bluntly
;
“
but
had
there
been
,
of
course
I
should
have
resisted
.
”
“
Hamlin
does
not
resist
,
”
replied
Lewis
,
with
a
certain
malignant
pride
.
“
I
can
do
just
whatever
I
choose
with
Hamlin
.
”
“
I
enjoy
it
,
”
explained
Hamlin
;
“
it’s
like
the
first
effects
of
opium
or
haschisch
.
One
feels
one’s
self
giving
way
,
one’s
soul
sinking
deliciously
.
”
“
Going
to
sleep
,
in
fact
,
”
corrected
Anne
.
From
that
moment
Anne
felt
that
Lewis
hated
her
.
Yet
he
was
,
in
a
way
,
fascinated
by
her
exotic
beauty
;
he
could
not
make
up
his
mind
that
so
strange
and
splendid
a
woman
could
resist
him
.
He
never
tried
to
magnetise
her
again
;
and
he
made
many
drawings
of
her
,
curiously
distorting
her
expression
,
sullen
,
but
frank
and
resolute
,
into
a
kind
of
sombre
,
morbid
wistfulness
.
“
I
hate
those
sketches
he
does
of
you
,
”
cried
Marjory
one
day
;
“
nasty
things
,
which
make
you
look
—
I
don’t
know
to
express
it
—
as
if
you
were
neither
a
man
nor
a
woman
,
and
were
in
love
with
him
.
”
Mary
Leigh
laughed
.
“
The
school
is
running
to
seed
,
”
she
said
:
“
the
great
men
have
done
all
that
could
be
done
in
the
way
of
beautiful
suggestiveness
—
the
little
ones
can
only
do
suggestiveness
of
all
sorts
of
vague
nastiness
which
they
don’t
even
understand
.
But
there’s
a
change
coming
on
in
painting
;
people
are
beginning
to
be
satisfied
with
interpreting
real
nature
;
and
—
don’t
you
think
—
Anne
—
a
similar
change
.
.
.
”
Mary
Leigh
,
who
was
the
most
absent‐minded
of
Irish
enthusiasts
,
suddenly
stopped
short
.
She
had
only
just
remembered
that
Hamlin
was
a
poet
and
a
painter
of
the
school
which
she
had
just
described
.
And
a
pained
,
darkened
look
had
come
over
Anne
.
Mary
Leigh
could
not
understand
that
that
look
meant
that
Anne
had
often
thought
just
the
same
thing
,
and
that
now
there
returned
to
her
,
with
sickening
bitterness
,
the
double
recollection
of
the
“
Ballad
of
the
Fens
,
”
and
of
those
twelve
sonnets
called
“
Desire
.
”
Meanwhile
Anne
gradually
got
substantial
reasons
for
her
instinctive
aversion
to
Edmund
Lewis
.
The
family
of
the
vicar
of
Wotton
sometimes
visited
at
the
Hall
.
There
were
two
very
young
girls
,
scarcely
more
than
children
,
for
whom
Anne
and
the
Leighs
had
taken
a
fancy
.
One
afternoon
they
came
to
tea
,
delicate
pink‐and‐white
creatures
of
fourteen
or
fifteen
,
impressionable
,
nervous
,
utterly
ignorant
of
the
world
.
Hamlin
seemed
to
appreciate
the
charm
of
obvious
purity
and
guilelessness
which
went
with
their
ignorance
of
the
world
.
“
I
should
like
to
make
a
picture
of
those
two
creatures
,
”
he
whispered
to
Anne
,
as
they
sat
at
tea
in
the
library
,
“
or
to
write
a
poem
about
them
—
they
seem
to
do
one
good
;
for
it
is
good
,
is
it
not
,
to
see
so
much
life
which
is
so
perfectly
fresh
,
and
unsullied
,
and
untormented
—
such
a
desire
to
know
the
world
before
the
evil
in
it
is
even
guessed
at
—
don’t
you
think
?
”
Even
Chough
could
not
make
a
single
unintelligible
allusion
to
the
wife
of
Claudius
or
the
daughter
of
Alexander
VI
.
,
but
sat
with
one
of
his
children
on
his
knee
,
looking
at
the
young
girls
and
gently
humming
a
scrap
of
old
minuet
,
fresh
and
simple
like
themselves
.
Anne
could
not
help
thinking
that
she
had
never
been
what
these
girls
were
.
She
had
been
shown
the
ugly
things
of
life
,
taught
to
struggle
with
them
since
her
childhood
,
and
now
believing
equally
in
good
,
but
believing
sadly
and
bitterly
.
It
was
better
to
be
a
woman
as
she
was
,
a
woman
who
knew
of
good
and
evil
,
and
was
prepared
to
fight
her
way
out
of
darkness
;
but
still
it
was
sad
never
,
never
to
have
been
as
these
girls
.
Edmund
Lewis
was
leaning
forward
on
the
table
,
his
reddish‐auburn
head
with
its
glittering
eyes
rising
like
that
of
a
snake
,
as
if
silently
trying
to
mesmerise
the
visitors
.
“
Suppose
we
show
these
young
ladies
some
of
our
works
of
art
?
”
he
proposed
,
in
a
half‐
jocular
way
which
he
occasionally
had
.
The
girls
had
never
seen
any
pictures
scarcely
,
and
having
heard
of
Hamlin
and
Lewis
as
famous
painters
from
London
,
were
delighted
.
The
whole
party
went
up
to
Hamlin’s
studio
.
He
showed
the
girls
not
the
things
for
which
he
cared
most
,
but
what
he
thought
would
give
them
most
pleasure
—
magnificent
tinted
sketches
of
poetical
legends
,
of
the
Sleeping
Beauty
,
Cupid
and
Psyche
,
and
so
forth
.
Anne
thought
she
had
scarcely
ever
seen
Hamlin
so
nice
before
as
when
he
got
the
sketches
out
of
the
portfolio
,
and
told
the
girls
what
they
represented
.
When
he
had
done
,
Edmund
Lewis
,
with
his
slow
,
shuffling
movements
,
placed
his
large
sketch‐book
on
an
easel
,
and
turned
a
page
.
It
was
covered
with
outline
drawings
of
men
and
women
,
stark
naked
,
in
various
listless
attitudes
.
Anne
had
seen
these
drawings
time
after
time
,
and
had
thought
them
,
accustomed
as
she
was
to
studios
and
painters
,
merely
clever
nude
studies
,
with
the
usual
expression
of
bored
depravity
of
all
Lewis’s
work
.
She
had
criticised
the
drawing
and
anatomy
,
and
had
never
before
thought
that
any
impropriety
was
connected
with
them
.
But
now
she
could
not
help
blushing
and
feeling
vaguely
indignant
.
“
That’s
not
the
sort
of
thing
to
show
those
children
,
”
whispered
Mary
Leigh
,
who
,
heaven
knows
,
had
seen
nude
studies
enough
in
her
life
.
Both
she
and
Anne
had
caught
the
surprised
,
vacant
expression
of
the
two
girls
,
had
seen
the
flush
in
their
face
,
and
understood
the
silence
,
never
asking
what
it
all
meant
,
as
they
stared
at
all
this
emaciated
,
flabby
nakedness
.
And
Anne
caught
also
Edmund
Lewis’s
expression
,
as
he
held
the
corner
of
the
page
,
ready
to
turn
over
,
with
one
hand
,
stroking
his
reddish‐brown
beard
with
the
other
,
and
looking
,
with
slightly
raised
eyebrows
and
curious
green
eyes
,
towards
Hamlin
,
as
if
to
call
his
attention
.
Lewis
turned
another
page
,
and
another
;
always
the
same
stark‐naked
people
.
Anne
was
very
black
.
Heaven
knows
from
what
instinct
,
perhaps
from
a
paternal
recollection
of
his
own
little
girls
,
Cosmo
Chough
understood
Anne’s
look
;
and
edging
himself
awkwardly
into
the
corner
,
he
banged
against
the
easel
,
and
made
it
and
the
sketch‐hook
come
down
with
a
crash
.
“
Confound
your
awkwardness
!
”
cried
Lewis
,
stooping
to
pick
up
his
drawings
,
and
slowly
replacing
the
sketch‐book
.
“
I
don’t
think
they
care
to
see
any
more
,
”
said
Anne
;
“
you
see
,
these
young
ladies
haven’t
studied
anatomy
.
Supposing
you
show
them
your
Eastern
sketches
,
Mr
Lewis
.
”
Lewis
gave
Anne
a
rapid
,
angry
glance
.
“
The
Eastern
sketches
are
up‐stairs
,
”
he
said
snappishly
;
adding
,
in
his
drawling
,
mock
courteous
way
,
“
I
think
these
young
ladies
have
seen
the
best
I
could
show
them
.
”
“
Then
we
had
better
go
down‐stairs
,
and
Mr
Chough
will
play
an
accompaniment
,
for
I
know
they
sing
very
nicely
,
”
said
Anne
,
taking
no
notice
of
him
.
Perhaps
,
thought
Anne
,
she
might
have
been
prejudiced
against
Edmund
Lewis
.
He
did
draw
morbid‐looking
nudities
;
but
so
many
other
men
did
just
the
same
,
that
it
was
quite
possible
he
might
have
displayed
that
sketch‐book
from
mere
thoughtlessness
.
Yet
she
could
not
believe
it
;
she
had
seen
Lewis’s
look
as
he
turned
over
the
pages
,
and
that
look
had
disgusted
her
.
The
next
day
but
one
the
question
was
settled
in
her
mind
.
It
was
a
fine
autumn
morning
,
and
Anne
was
seated
on
the
terrace
,
waiting
for
the
others
to
come
down
to
breakfast
.
The
air
,
just
touched
by
the
first
cold
,
was
exquisitely
pure
;
and
the
sear
bracken
of
the
hillside
opposite
sparkled
golden
with
the
heavy
dew
.
All
round
the
swallows
were
whirring
about
,
collecting
for
departure
.
The
thought
of
the
Villa
Arnolfini
—
of
the
place
in
the
vineyard
,
among
the
yellowing
vines
,
where
she
used
to
sit
on
the
dry
warm
mint
and
fennel
with
the
little
Perrys
,
where
,
under
the
big
mulberry‐tree
,
they
had
buried
her
Dante
in
a
heap
of
yellow
leaves
—
came
home
to
Anne
.
How
good
Hamlin
had
been
to
her
!
the
idea
almost
pained
her
.
But
this
lovely
morning
seemed
to
have
swept
all
evil
away
.
If
only
,
Anne
said
to
herself
,
Hamlin’s
sympathies
could
be
violently
roused
—
if
only
he
could
be
awakened
suddenly
,
by
some
unexpected
contact
with
the
tragic
realities
of
the
world
,
by
a
sudden
appeal
to
his
generosity
and
indignation
,
out
of
this
æsthetic
day‐dream
with
its
enervating
visions
of
impure
beauty
and
forbidden
things
.
If
only
this
could
be
done
,
the
horrid
spell
which
kept
him
at
a
moral
distance
from
her
would
be
broken
through
.
.
.
.
And
soon
it
must
come
,
this
awakening
.
As
she
was
thinking
in
this
way
,
Edmund
Lewis
strolled
up
,
his
hands
behind
his
back
,
to
the
table
at
which
she
was
seated
.
He
gave
her
a
little
unceremonious
nod
,
and
then
,
interrupting
the
tune
which
he
was
faintly
whistling
,
pushed
a
paper‐bound
book
across
the
table
to
her
.
“
Have
you
ever
read
this
,
Miss
Brown
?
”
he
asked
;
“
do
you
know
that
passage
?
I
think
it
one
of
the
loveliest
things
which
have
ever
been
written
.
”
Anne’s
eye
glanced
at
the
page
,
pencil‐marked
all
round
,
and
then
at
the
title
on
the
margin
.
It
was
Gautier’s
‘Mademoiselle
de
Maupin.’
She
understood
.
“
I
have
never
read
it
,
”
she
answered
,
“
but
I
have
often
heard
that
it
is
a
book
which
a
man
does
not
offer
a
woman
except
as
an
insult
,
”
and
she
quietly
handed
the
volume
back
,
looking
up
,
her
beautiful
severe
face
flushed
,
her
slate‐grey
eyes
flashing
,
at
Lewis
.
The
painter
started
.
“
Upon
my
word
,
”
he
answered
quickly
,
with
his
usual
self‐possession
,
“
I
never
thought
that
.
I
never
thought
that
any
book
could
possibly
offend
a
pure
woman
nowadays
.
I
regard
this
book
merely
as
a
noble
hymn
to
beauty
;
others
may
regard
it
otherwise
.
I
really
had
no
thought
of
offending
you
,
my
dear
Miss
Brown
”
—
there
was
a
tone
of
patronising
insolence
in
his
voice
.
“
So
much
the
better
,
”
answered
Anne
,
rising
.
Oh
how
,
how
could
Hamlin
,
with
his
chivalrous
nature
,
endure
the
daily
contact
of
such
a
man
as
this
!
“
Lewis
ought
not
to
have
selected
those
particular
drawings
to
show
the
vicar’s
girls
,
”
said
Anne
,
later
on
.
She
could
not
allude
to
that
scene
of
the
book
;
but
she
felt
she
must
say
something
.
“
A
man
ought
not
to
show
such
things
as
those
to
mere
children
,
brought
up
in
the
country
,
who
don’t
know
what
they
mean
,
and
are
merely
shocked
by
such
things
—
don’t
you
think
so
,
Mary
?
”
“
Certainly
,
”
answered
Mary
Leigh
boldly
,
quite
astonished
at
Anne’s
venturing
to
mention
such
a
subject
.
“
It
wasn’t
good
taste
,
certainly
,
”
answered
Hamlin
.
“
Lewis
is
fearfully
absent‐minded
.
They
are
lovely
designs
.
But
still
,
it
wasn’t
good
taste
,
I
quite
agree
.
”
“
Good
taste
!
”
thought
Anne
,
with
a
shudder
.
“
Is
there
nothing
higher
than
taste
in
the
world
?
”
CHAPTER
VIII
.
THREE
days
later
,
Chough
and
Lewis
returned
to
town
,
and
Hamlin
went
with
them
.
The
weather
had
broken
up
,
and
it
was
time
to
settle
for
the
winter
.
Aunt
Claudia
and
Anne
were
to
stay
on
another
fortnight
,
in
order
to
give
Hamlin
time
to
make
some
alterations
in
the
house
at
Hammersmith
.
Such
at
least
was
the
pretext
;
but
Anne
knew
that
Madame
Elaguine
had
arrived
in
London
,
and
she
guessed
that
Hamlin
would
wish
to
transact
whatever
business
there
might
be
,
before
exposing
to
Mrs
Macgregor’s
wrath
the
Cousin
Sacha
of
former
days
—
before
,
perhaps
,
refusing
to
let
Anne
Brown
meet
a
woman
whose
past
spoke
little
in
her
favour
,
and
of
whose
present
he
knew
absolutely
nothing
.
“
How
I
dread
seeing
that
woman
!
”
he
exclaimed
the
evening
before
his
departure
,
as
he
walked
up
and
down
the
hall
with
Anne
,
while
the
rest
of
the
company
was
listening
to
Cosmo
Chough
,
shrilly
piping
eighteenth
century
music
in
the
drawing‐room
.
“
Has
Aunt
Claudia
ever
told
you
anything
of
our
life
when
Cousin
Sacha
was
here
with
us
,
years
ago
?
”
he
asked
.
Anne
nodded
.
“
Aunt
Claudia
told
me
the
whole
story
.
”
“
Then
you
can
understand
,
”
cried
Hamlin
,
almost
convulsively
,
“
how
the
mere
thought
of
Sacha
is
loathsome
to
me
;
and
yet
,
I
must
behave
decently
towards
her
—
don’t
you
think
?
”
“
Of
course
you
must
;
and
I
can’t
help
thinking
that
perhaps
—
well
,
that
your
aunt
and
you
may
be
a
little
unjust
towards
her
—
I
don’t
think
that
a
child
really
could
be
so
bad
.
”
“
Oh
,
a
child
may
be
as
bad
as
a
woman
if
she
have
evil
blood
in
her
!
and
just
think
,
if
Sacha
was
like
that
as
a
child
,
what
must
she
not
be
as
a
woman
?
”
There
was
something
odd
in
his
tone
;
something
not
of
indignation
,
but
of
a
kind
of
clinging
curiosity
.
“
I
daresay
,
”
said
Anne
,
“
that
as
a
woman
she
may
be
much
better
than
as
a
child
.
Her
eyes
may
have
been
opened
to
her
own
unworthiness
,
and
she
may
have
struggled
out
of
the
influence
of
bad
examples
.
I
am
sure
many
,
many
people
are
much
better
as
men
and
women
than
as
children
.
To
know
,
to
feel
responsible
,
means
so
much
.
”
“
That
may
be
.
”
There
was
some
disappointment
in
Hamlin’s
tone
.
Anne
laughed
.
“
You
want
to
find
a
fiend
,
a
lamia
,
a
vampire
,
”
she
said
—
“
something
hateful
and
picturesque
.
Fancy
if
your
cousin
should
turn
out
a
most
prosaic
and
ultra‐respectable
woman
,
given
up
to
her
children
,
and
coffee‐taverns
,
and
women’s
suffrage
!
”
Hamlin
could
not
help
laughing
.
“
I
fear
there’s
not
much
chance
of
that
.
Anyhow
,
I
must
see
whether
she
is
fit
for
you
to
receive
,
and
whether
Aunt
Claudia
can
be
mollified
towards
her
,
supposing
she
is
the
exemplary
piece
of
prose
which
you
imagine
.
”
Anne
had
induced
Cosmo
Chough
to
leave
his
little
girls
in
her
charge
;
and
the
Leighs
were
to
return
to
London
with
her
and
Aunt
Claudia
.
The
big
house
seemed
very
empty
without
Hamlin
and
his
friends
;
but
the
quiet
was
pleasant
.
Somehow
,
when
he
was
away
,
when
she
could
no
longer
see
him
perpetually
sitting
and
walking
with
Edmund
Lewis
,
Anne’s
love
for
Hamlin
became
much
stronger
.
In
her
recollection
he
existed
only
with
reference
to
herself
;
she
felt
his
goodness
,
she
believed
in
his
nobility
,
she
felt
sure
that
some
day
he
would
become
more
manly
,
healthy
,
and
resolute
.
If
only
she
could
enter
into
his
confidence
,
instead
of
men
like
Lewis
and
Dennistoun
;
if
only
she
could
make
him
see
all
that
there
was
in
the
world
besides
mere
art
and
poetry
.
Perhaps
she
was
unworthy
to
do
it
.
This
thought
spurred
her
on
,
redoubled
Anne’s
restless
desire
to
know
,
to
sympathise
,
and
to
help
.
Marjory
Leigh
had
,
soon
after
her
arrival
at
Wotton
,
made
acquaintance
with
the
wife
of
the
vicar
,
a
simple
,
energetic
,
rather
narrow‐minded
but
boundlessly
unselfish
woman
,
all
whose
thoughts
were
given
to
improving
the
condition
of
the
neighbouring
poor
.
To
tell
the
whole
truth
,
the
vicar
had
a
son
,
a
young
man
entirely
belying
the
usual
saying
about
clergymen’s
sons
,
who
had
renounced
a
good
living
in
the
neighbourhood
in
order
to
become
a
curate
in
the
East
End
of
London
.
Harry
Collett
had
been
at
Oxford
at
the
same
time
as
Hamlin
;
he
had
even
,
for
some
time
,
belonged
to
the
æsthetic
set
of
which
Hamlin
and
Melton
Perry
had
been
the
heads
:
but
he
had
soon
become
a
religious
enthusiast
;
and
,
his
religious
enthusiasm
cooling
down
,
he
had
remained
an
ardent
philanthropist
.
Hamlin
had
a
liking
for
Harry
Collett
.
He
was
handsome
,
tall
,
and
emaciated
,
like
a
St
John
the
Baptist
by
Donatello
;
he
was
in
his
own
style
poetical
;
he
was
a
dreamer
and
an
enthusiast
.
Hamlin
used
to
call
him
Francis
of
Assisi
.
He
did
several
sketches
of
him
,
and
asked
him
several
times
to
Wotton
Hall
.
Anne
also
liked
and
admired
him
;
but
there
was
something
exaggerated
,
narrow‐minded
,
in
him
,
which
shocked
her
Italian
temperament
.
What
she
wanted
was
secular
energy
,
not
priestly
devotion
.
“
He
is
a
monk
,
”
she
used
to
say
;
“
he
ought
to
have
lived
in
the
middle
ages
.
What
we
want
nowadays
are
disagreeable
,
rough‐and‐ready
men
like
Cousin
Dick
—
men
who
don’t
merely
feel
sorry
for
vice
,
but
who
try
to
understand
its
scientific
reason
.
”
Marjory
Leigh
,
who
declared
herself
to
belong
to
the
most
advanced
of
all
advanced
parties
,
and
to
whom
Richard
Brown
was
little
less
than
a
god
,
perfectly
agreed
in
Anne’s
verdict
.
But
being
of
a
proselytising
temper
,
and
having
a
special
love
for
proselytising
among
the
young
men
of
her
acquaintance
,
she
immediately
set
about
enlightening
the
rather
High
Church
benevolence
of
Harry
Collett
,
as
soon
as
he
came
to
spend
at
Wotton
his
summer
holidays
.
Anne
and
Mary
Leigh
used
often
to
laugh
over
the
intensely
serious
flirtations
which
were
carried
on
between
Marjory
and
the
East
End
curate
—
flirtations
of
which
both
parties
were
perfectly
unaware
—
earnestly
discussing
charity
reorganisation
,
ventilation
,
primary
instruction
,
and
so
forth
;
but
which
was
nevertheless
destined
to
result
,
soon
after
the
general
return
to
town
,
in
a
long
engagement
between
Marjory
and
Harry
Collett
.
Harry
was
already
back
at
his
post
in
the
East
End
;
but
Marjory
,
being
unable
to
discuss
philanthropy
with
him
,
went
daily
to
help
his
mother
in
her
work
.
Thus
it
was
that
Anne
gradually
became
acquainted
with
the
petty
miseries
of
village
life
,
its
dull
indifference
,
mistaken
by
poets
for
innocence
,
and
beneath
which
lies
so
much
possibility
of
stupid
misery
and
stupid
crime
.
“
All
that
must
be
improved
some
day
,
”
Anne
used
to
say
;
and
she
determined
to
ask
Cousin
Dick’s
advice
,
for
she
believed
in
radical
measures
rather
than
in
the
small
palliations
of
the
vicar’s
wife
.
One
afternoon
—
they
were
within
three
or
four
days
of
return
to
London
—
Marjory
Leigh
returned
more
than
usually
excited
from
a
visit
to
the
vicarage
.
“
What’s
the
matter
?
”
asked
Anne
,
as
the
three
girls
sat
alone
in
Hamlin’s
empty
studio
.
Marjory
threw
her
hat
on
the
floor
.
“
Give
me
some
tea
,
”
she
said
,
“
I
feel
quite
sick
;
I
never
thought
I
should
come
across
such
horrors
.
Of
course
,
”
she
added
quickly
,
before
Anne
or
her
sister
had
time
to
exclaim
,
and
as
if
to
reclaim
her
reputation
for
omniscience
—
“
of
course
I
knew
that
such
things
existed
—
oh
dear
,
yes
—
in
big
towns
and
so
forth
;
but
still
,
”
—
and
poor
Marjory
fairly
burst
into
tears
,
—
“
I
never
,
never
thought
that
—
I
should
come
so
near
them
.
”
Finally
,
when
she
had
had
some
tea
,
Marjory
,
all
blushing
and
stammering
,
and
in
a
hesitating
,
roundabout
way
,
which
curiously
belied
her
usual
affectation
of
cynical
omniscience
,
proceeded
to
explain
what
had
just
happened
.
A
girl
with
an
illegitimate
baby
—
a
very
common
occurrence
in
those
parts
—
had
turned
up
for
assistance
at
the
vicarage
,
and
,
while
deprecating
the
wretched
creature’s
fault
,
the
vicar’s
wife
had
revealed
to
Marjory
Leigh
a
jealously
hidden
stain
in
her
parish
;
namely
,
that
in
the
hamlet
to
which
the
girl
belonged
,
a
mishap
,
as
she
termed
it
,
like
hers
was
a
trifle
,
and
indeed
could
scarcely
be
considered
a
fault
at
all
,
compared
with
the
condition
of
brutish
sin
in
which
rolled
,
cynically
huddled
together
in
cabins
no
better
than
sties
,
the
whole
small
population
of
that
foul
little
fen
village
.
“
It
appears
it’s
been
going
on
for
generations
,
”
cried
Marjory
,
“
and
that
there’s
no
hope
of
remedying
things
unless
the
miserable
creatures
be
removed
into
more
decent
dwellings
.
It’s
useless
trying
to
teach
them
to
live
decently
as
long
as
they
live
there
,
in
those
hovels
in
the
fen
,
where
half
of
them
are
ill
of
fever
every
autumn
,
and
they
herd
together
like
cattle
.
Oh
,
it’s
sickening
to
think
of
Christian
people
being
so
sinful
close
by
one
!
”
and
Marjory
burst
into
hysterical
sobs
.
Mary
Leigh
had
exclaimed
in
horror
as
soon
as
Marjory’s
meaning
had
become
plain
to
her
.
“
Oh
,
don’t
cry
,
don’t
cry
,
Marjory
darling
!
”
she
exclaimed
,
throwing
herself
on
her
knees
and
clasping
her
sister’s
waist
.
“
You
can’t
do
anything
,
my
love
—
and
you’ll
only
make
yourself
ill
if
you
let
yourself
brood
on
such
things
.
”
Anne
had
not
exclaimed
.
She
sat
perfectly
still
,
and
said
nothing
.
Most
persons
would
have
deemed
her
very
callous
,
she
looked
so
calm
.
“
Are
you
quite
sure
,
Marjory
,
”
she
asked
,
after
a
minute
—
“
are
you
quite
sure
you
did
not
misunderstand
,
or
that
Mrs
Collett
did
not
exaggerate
?
”
“
I
couldn’t
misunderstand
;
and
Mrs
Collett
gave
me
ever
so
many
details
—
such
dreadful
details
;
”
and
interrupted
by
her
sobs
,
Marjory
repeated
scraps
of
what
she
had
heard
.
“
Where
is
the
place
?
”
asked
Anne
,
after
another
pause
.
“
It’s
that
cluster
of
houses
half‐way
to
Eggleston
,
in
the
middle
of
the
fen
,
by
the
river
—
they
call
it
Cold
Fremley
.
Don’t
you
remember
our
going
down
there
once
in
the
break
,
with
the
Spencers
and
Chough
,
and
your
saying
you
wished
Hamlin
would
paint
that
sort
of
fiat
green
country
,
and
Mrs
Spencer
saying
it
was
unpoetical
?
”
Anne
remembered
.
The
recollection
of
that
moment
came
like
a
vision
;
she
saw
the
wide
river
,
between
its
low
sedgy
banks
of
boggy
green
;
the
reddish
storm
sunset
reflected
in
clotted
flame‐coloured
masses
in
its
thick
grey
waters
;
the
moon
rising
,
a
spectral
crescent
on
the
blue
evening
sky
;
she
heard
the
quail
of
the
frogs
,
the
cries
of
the
water‐fowl
:
the
Spencers
and
Chough
on
ahead
with
the
two
Leighs
and
Harry
Collett
;
and
she
and
Hamlin
lingering
behind
,
watching
the
reddened
stream
—
and
the
cattle
,
dark
outlines
on
the
flat
green
banks
opposite
;
Hamlin
scrambling
down
the
bank
to
get
a
tuft
of
willow
herb
growing
half
in
the
water
.
She
was
feeling
so
happy
;
Hamlin
was
so
good
and
gentle
and
handsome
,
and
she
loved
him
so
;
and
they
two
had
stood
by
the
river
alone
,
until
the
little
Spencer
children
had
run
back
and
taken
her
hand
,
and
begun
asking
a
hundred
questions
in
their
shrill
baby
lisp
.
It
was
so
lovely
and
peaceful
and
good
,
this
green
country
,
this
quiet
evening
,
with
Hamlin
by
her
side
and
the
children
holding
her
hand
.
She
had
felt
a
painful
longing
to
impress
the
place
and
the
moment
on
her
mind
,
to
keep
this
happy
present
.
“
What
is
this
called
?
”
she
had
asked
;
and
Hamlin
had
answered
“
Cold
Fremley
.
”
Cold
Fremley
!
Anne
went
on
repeating
to
herself
all
that
afternoon
:
the
recollection
of
that
beautiful
scene
,
become
hideous
like
a
nightmare
,
haunted
her
.
The
huddled
roofs
dark
in
the
distance
,
the
curl
of
smoke
—
that
was
the
place
.
Anne
felt
dizzy
.
She
had
read
enough
about
shame
and
sin
,
heaven
knows
;
the
poems
of
the
poets
of
the
set
were
full
of
allusions
to
such
things
.
But
she
had
never
realised
that
they
could
be
realities
;
they
had
been
so
many
artistic
dabs
of
horror
,
imaginary
,
or
belonging
vaguely
to
some
distant
,
dim
world
,
as
unreal
as
the
beautiful
haunted
woods
and
mysterious
castles
,
the
pale
unsubstantial
gods
and
heroes
,
and
men
and
women
of
the
pictures
of
Rossetti
and
Burne
Jones
,
of
the
poems
of
Swinburne
and
Morris
,
and
Hamlin
and
Chough
.
But
that
abominations
like
these
should
be
here
,
close
at
hand
,
in
sordid
,
filthy
reality
,
reality
under
this
same
sun
,
swept
by
this
same
wind
,
reality
through
which
she
had
unconsciously
walked
;
this
seemed
impossible
.
A
strange
thing
happened
:
the
thought
of
what
she
had
heard
haunted
her
so
persistently
,
loomed
before
her
in
such
ever‐changing
horror
,
that
Anne
at
last
felt
like
one
drunk
or
half
asleep
,
and
began
to
doubt
whether
it
was
not
all
a
horrible
nightmare
.
Had
Marjory
really
told
her
these
things
?
Before
a
court
of
justice
Anne
would
have
been
unable
to
say
whether
she
had
or
not
.
It
was
so
unreal
to
her
that
she
could
not
accept
it
as
a
reality
;
the
more
she
brooded
,
the
more
did
it
seem
a
hallucination
.
“
Marjory
,
”
said
Anne
the
next
day
,
suddenly
,
“
is
it
true
that
you
told
me
some
dreadful
things
which
you
had
heard
from
Mrs
Collett
about
the
people
at
Cold
Fremley
?
”
Marjory
looked
up
in
astonishment
.
“
Of
course
it
is
,
”
—
she
had
half
forgotten
it
herself
.
“
I
cannot
get
it
out
of
my
mind
,
”
said
Anne
,
passing
her
hand
over
her
eyes
,
as
if
to
disperse
some
black
mist
;
“
it
is
too
horrible
.
Everything
in
the
world
seems
tarnished
,
don’t
you
know
,
and
a
sort
of
horrible
clamminess
all
round
.
”
Marjory
looked
at
Anne
.
She
was
very
pale
,
and
her
big
,
greyish‐blue
,
onyx‐coloured
eyes
were
wide
with
a
fixed
stare
.
She
looked
as
if
she
did
indeed
see
the
tarnish
on
the
world
,
and
felt
the
clamminess
;
as
if
,
like
a
person
taken
with
some
fever
,
she
tasted
copper
on
her
tongue
.
Marjory
was
a
sensible
girl
.
She
had
studied
medicine
,
and
knew
an
appalling
amount
about
direction
of
the
will
,
expectant
attention
,
and
other
psychological
and
physiological
matters
.
“
Anne
,
”
she
said
,
“
you
are
making
yourself
ill
about
this
matter
.
Of
course
you
couldn’t
help
being
shocked
;
but
you
take
it
too
much
to
heart
.
You
are
going
to
let
these
horrible
things
haunt
you
;
it
is
a
great
temptation
to
do
so
.
Take
care
;
it
won’t
do
any
good
,
and
you
will
merely
get
quite
unstrung
.
I
warn
you
against
it
.
You
mustn’t
let
such
things
get
the
better
of
your
will
:
it’s
morbid
,
and
dangerous
,
and
unworthy
,
”
—
and
Marjory
completely
forgot
how
she
herself
had
entered
the
room
in
hysterics
the
previous
day
.
Anne
took
no
notice
of
her
speech
.
“
You
say
nothing
can
be
done
until
these
people
be
given
better
dwellings
?
”
she
asked
,
after
a
pause
.
Marjory
nodded
.
“
So
Mrs
Collett
says
,
and
I’ve
read
that
repeatedly
in
books
also
—
for
,
of
course
,
such
things
have
happened
elsewhere
.
At
all
events
,
the
children
might
be
brought
up
to
live
more
decently
,
if
they
were
not
all
huddled
up
together
like
that
.
”
A
thought
seemed
to
flash
across
Anne’s
darkened
mind
.
Her
maid
had
just
brought
in
the
tea‐things
.
“
Laura
,
”
she
asked
,
“
do
you
know
to
whom
Cold
Fremley
—
those
cottages
by
the
river
,
half‐way
to
Eggleston
—
belongs
?
”
“
I
can
ask
Mr
Hamlin’s
steward
,
miss
—
he’s
just
in
the
housekeeper’s
room
,
”
answered
Laura
.
“
Run
and
ask
,
”
ordered
Anne
.
“
Good
heavens
,
Anne
!
”
cried
Mary
Leigh
,
“
what
are
you
going
to
do
!
You
surely
aren’t
going
to
talk
about
such
things
and
try
to
interfere
!
What
can
you
do
,
when
Mrs
Collett
has
failed
?
”
“
The
houses
must
be
rebuilt
,
”
answered
Anne
,
quietly
and
firmly
;
“
to
whomsoever
they
belong
,
they
must
—
they
shall
be
rebuilt
.
”
“
Nonsense
!
”
cried
practical
Marjory
;
“
how
can
you
talk
like
that
?
Are
you
going
to
apply
to
the
neighbouring
squires
and
tell
them
about
such
matters
?
”
“
They
must
rebuild
the
houses
if
once
they
understand
,
”
repeated
Anne
.
“
I
don’t
care
to
whom
they
belong
—
they
shall
be
rebuilt
.
I
will
write
and
speak
to
every
one
and
any
one
on
the
subject
,
until
the
thing
has
been
done
.
”
“
It’s
all
very
well
,
but
when
it
comes
to
the
point
,
you
wouldn’t
venture
to
mention
such
a
thing
to
a
man
,
”
cried
Marjory
,
contemptuously
—
“
I
—
wouldn’t
.
”
At
this
moment
the
maid
entered
.
“
The
steward
says
that
Cold
Fremley
—
those
houses
by
the
river
,
leastways
—
belong
to
Mr
Hamlin
,
and
as
it’s
he
that
lets
them
out
.
”
Marjory
and
her
sister
looked
at
each
other
and
then
at
Anne
,
as
much
as
to
say
,
“
Well
,
you
see
now
what
it
would
be
.
”
Anne
flushed
scarlet
,
but
her
face
brightened
.
“
I
will
speak
to
Mr
Hamlin
,
”
she
said
,
as
soon
as
the
maid’s
back
was
turned
.
Her
voice
faltered
a
little
;
but
it
was
from
sudden
surprise
,
not
from
hesitation
.
“
Oh
,
Annie
,
dear
,
you’ll
find
that
you
can’t
!
”
exclaimed
Mary
Leigh
;
“
you’ll
find
it
impossible
.
”
“
At
all
events
,
you’ll
have
to
put
it
through
your
aunt
,
”
suggested
Marjory
.
“
Through
Aunt
Claudia
?
”
cried
Anne
.
“
Do
you
think
she
will
make
him
feel
it
?
Why
,
she
will
answer
that
such
things
are
going
on
all
round
us
,
and
worse
ones
.
No
;
I
shall
speak
to
Mr
Hamlin
himself
:
he
is
the
proprietor
of
Fremley
;
and
he
is
responsible
.
”
“
You’ll
never
be
able
to
do
so
,
”
insisted
Mary
;
“
you
think
you
will
,
but
you
can’t
.
Fancy
saying
all
that
to
a
man
—
and
to
a
man
who
is
in
love
with
you
!
”
“
What
must
be
done
,
must
be
done
,
”
answered
Anne
.
“
It’s
not
a
question
of
liking
or
disliking
.
Mr
Hamlin’s
a
man
,
and
I
am
a
woman
,
and
I
daresay
men
and
women
don’t
talk
about
such
things
.
But
Mr
Hamlin
is
the
proprietor
of
Cold
Fremley
,
and
that’s
all
I
have
to
do
with
.
”
The
Leighs
looked
at
her
with
incredulous
astonishment
.
It
seemed
so
simple
to
her
.
BOOK
VI
.
CHAPTER
I
.
IT
was
raining
when
they
arrived
in
London
—
a
warmish
,
brown
,
clammy
autumn
day
.
The
streets
were
a
porridge
of
liquid
mud
,
whose
trail
dragged
along
the
wet
asphalt
;
the
houses
were
staring
forth
,
a
livid
dirt‐grey
,
in
the
thin
rain
;
and
the
sky
,
the
very
rain
,
was
befouled
with
grime
.
Only
drays
splashed
through
the
mud
,
and
carriages
carrying
hurried‐looking
people
;
children
,
still
in
their
tattered
summer
cottons
and
battered
straw
hats
,
stared
in
at
the
shops
,
the
broad
sheen
from
whose
brilliant
windows
was
caught
up
by
the
wet
pavement
,
and
lingered
out
,
in
broken
reflections
,
in
the
brown
ooze
of
the
thoroughfare
.
Along
the
deserted
suburban
streets
every
second
house
seemed
to
be
a
gin‐palace
,
with
shining
coloured
globes
,
and
stucco
pinnacles
soaked
with
rain
,
and
ground‐glass
windows
shining
out
like
a
leprosy
of
white
.
Mrs
Macgregor
closed
her
eyes
in
disgust
.
Even
the
maid
looked
depressed
.
But
Anne
stared
out
of
the
window
of
the
carriage
at
all
the
hideous
soppy
sordidness
,
which
seemed
to
soil
and
soak
black
into
one’s
mind
;
and
she
felt
glad
.
All
this
was
reality
:
it
was
the
world
in
which
lay
her
redemption
,
and
the
redemption
of
Hamlin
.
Anne
found
Hamlin
full
of
his
cousin
Sacha
,
upon
whom
he
had
already
called
three
times
,
and
in
whom
,
to
his
surprise
,
he
had
found
not
a
trace
of
the
child
whom
he
had
hated
;
but
a
respectable
,
unworldly
young
mother
,
devoted
to
her
children
,
timid
,
and
only
deserving
a
little
sympathy
.
“
She
is
a
very
curious
woman
,
”
he
said
,
“
evidently
excellent
at
bottom
;
but
I
don’t
know
whether
I
quite
like
her
.
She
has
something
