himselfand
to
Catherine
,
and
the
squire
's
intellectual
respect
for
him
rose
considerably
.
All
the
same
,
by
the
end
of
their
conversation
that
first
period
of
happy
unclouded
youth
we
have
been
considering
was
over
for
poor
Elsmere
.
In
obedience
to
certain
inevitable
laws
and
instincts
of
the
mind
,
he
had
been
for
months
tempting
his
fate
,
inviting
catastrophe
.
None
the
less
did
the
first
sure
approaches
of
that
catastrophe
fill
him
with
a
restless
resistance
which
was
in
itself
anguish
.
As
to
the
squire
's
talk
,
it
was
simply
the
outpouring
of
one
of
the
richest
,
most
sceptical
,
and
most
highly-trained
of
minds
on
the
subject
of
Christian
origins
.
At
no
previous
period
of
his
life
would
it
have
greatly
affected
Elsmere
.
But
now
at
every
step
the
ideas
,
impressions
,
arguments
bred
in
him
by
his
months
of
historical
work
and
ordinary
converse
with
the
squire
rushed
in
,
as
they
had
done
once
before
,
to
cripple
resistance
,
to
check
an
emerging
answer
,
to
justify
Mr.
Wendover
.
We
may
quote
a
few
fragmentary
utterances
taken
almost
at
random
from
the
long
wrestle
of
the
two
men
,
for
the
sake
of
indicating
the
main
lines
of
a
bitter
after-struggle
.
'
Testimony
like
every
other
human
product
has
developed
.
Man
's
power
of
apprehending
and
recording
what
he
sees
and
hears
has
grown
from
less
to
more
,
from
weaker
to
stronger
,
like
any
other
of
his
faculties
,
just
as
the
reasoning
powers
of
the
cave-dweller
have
developed
into
the
reasoning
powers
of
a
Kant
.
What
one
wants
is
the
ordered
proof
of
this
,
and
it
can
be
got
from
history
and
experience
.
'
'
To
plunge
into
the
Christian
period
without
having
first
cleared
the
mind
as
to
what
is
meant
in
history
and
literature
by
"
the
critical
method
,
"
which
in
history
may
be
defined
as
the
"
science
of
what
is
credible
,
"
and
in
literature
as
"
the
science
of
what
is
rational
,
"
is
to
invite
fiasco
.
The
theologian
in
such
a
state
sees
no
obstacle
to
accepting
an
arbitrary
list
of
documents
with
all
the
strange
stuff
they
may
contain
,
and
declaring
them
to
be
sound
historical
material
,
while
he
applies
to
all
the
strange
stuff
of
a
similar
kind
surrounding
them
the
most
rigorous
principles
of
modern
science
.
Or
he
has
to
make
believe
that
the
reasoning
processes
exhibited
in
the
speeches
of
the
Acts
,
in
certain
passages
of
St.
Paul
's
Epistles
,
or
in
the
Old
Testament
quotations
in
the
Gospels
,
have
a
validity
for
the
mind
of
the
nineteenth
century
,
when
in
truth
they
are
the
imperfect
,
half-childish
products
of
the
mind
of
the
first
century
,
of
quite
insignificant
or
indirect
value
to
the
historian
of
fact
,
of
enormous
value
to
the
historian
of
testimony
and
its
varieties
.
'
'
Suppose
,
for
instance
,
before
I
begin
to
deal
with
the
Christian
story
,
and
the
earliest
Christian
development
,
I
try
to
make
out
beforehand
what
are
the
moulds
,
the
channels
into
which
the
testimony
of
the
time
must
run
.
I
look
for
these
moulds
,
of
course
,
in
the
dominant
ideas
,
the
intellectual
preconceptions
and
preoccupations
existing
when
the
period
begins
.
'
In
the
first
place
,
I
shall
find
present
in
the
age
which
saw
the
birth
of
Christianity
,
as
in
so
many
other
ages
,
a
universal
preconception
in
favour
of
miracle
—
that
is
to
say
,
of
deviations
from
the
common
norm
of
experience
,
governing
the
work
of
all
men
of
all
schools
.
Very
well
,
allow
for
it
then
.
Read
the
testimony
of
the
period
in
the
light
of
it
.
Be
prepared
for
the
inevitable
differences
between
it
and
the
testimony
of
your
own
day
.
The
witness
of
the
time
is
not
true
,
nor
,
in
the
strict
sense
,
false
.
It
is
merely
incompetent
,
half-trained
,
pre-scientific
,
but
all
through
perfectly
natural
.
The
wonder
would
have
been
to
have
had
a
life
of
Christ
without
miracles
.
The
air
teems
with
them
.
The
East
is
full
of
Messiahs
.
Even
a
Tacitus
is
superstitious
.
Even
a
Vespasian
works
miracles
.
Even
a
Nero
cannot
die
,
but
fifty
years
after
his
death
is
still
looked
for
as
the
inaugurator
of
a
millennium
of
horror
.
The
Resurrection
is
partly
invented
,
partly
imagined
,
partly
ideally
true
—
in
any
case
wholly
intelligible
and
natural
,
as
a
product
of
the
age
,
when
once
you
have
the
key
of
that
age
.
'
In
the
next
place
,
look
for
the
preconceptions
that
have
a
definite
historical
origin
;
those
,
for
instance
,
flowing
from
the
pre-Christian
,
apocalyptic
literature
of
the
Jews
,
taking
the
Maccabean
legend
of
Daniel
as
the
centre
of
inquiry
—
those
flowing
from
Alexandrian
Judaism
and
the
school
of
Philo
—
those
flowing
from
the
Palestinian
schools
of
exegesis
.
Examine
your
synoptic
gospels
,
your
Gospel
of
St.
John
,
your
Apocalypse
,
in
the
light
of
these
.
You
have
no
other
chance
of
understanding
them
.
But
so
examined
,
they
fall
into
place
,
become
explicable
and
rational
;
such
material
as
science
can
make
full
use
of
.
The
doctrine
of
the
Divinity
of
Christ
,
Christian
eschatology
,
and
Christian
views
of
prophecy
will
also
have
found
their
place
in
a
sound
historical
scheme
!
'
'
It
is
discreditable
now
for
the
man
of
intelligence
to
refuse
to
read
his
Livy
in
the
light
of
his
Mommsen
.
My
object
has
been
to
help
in
making
it
discreditable
to
him
to
refuse
to
read
his
Christian
documents
in
the
light
of
a
trained
scientific
criticism
.
We
shall
have
made
some
positive
advance
in
rationality
when
the
man
who
is
perfectly
capable
of
dealing
sanely
with
legend
in
one
connection
,
and
,
in
another
,
will
insist
on
confounding
it
with
history
proper
,
cannot
do
so
any
longer
without
losing
caste
,
without
falling
ipso
facto
out
of
court
with
men
of
education
.
It
is
enough
for
a
man
of
letters
if
he
has
helped
ever
so
little
in
the
final
staking
out
of
the
boundaries
between
reason
and
unreason
!
'
And
so
on
.
These
are
mere
ragged
gleanings
from
an
ample
store
.
The
discussion
in
reality
ranged
over
the
whole
field
of
history
,
plunged
into
philosophy
,
and
into
the
subtlest
problems
of
mind
.
At
the
end
of
it
,
after
he
had
been
conscious
for
many
bitter
moments
of
that
same
constriction
of
heart
which
had
overtaken
him
once
before
at
Mr.
Wendover
's
hands
,
the
religious
passion
in
Elsmere
once
more
rose
with
sudden
stubborn
energy
against
the
iron
negations
pressed
upon
it
.
'
I
will
not
fight
you
any
more
,
Mr.
Wendover
,
'
he
said
,
with
his
moved
flashing
look
.
'
I
am
perfectly
conscious
that
my
own
mental
experience
of
the
last
two
years
has
made
it
necessary
to
re-examine
some
of
these
intellectual
foundations
of
faith
.
But
as
to
the
faith
itself
,
that
is
its
own
witness
.
It
does
not
depend
,
after
all
,
upon
anything
external
,
but
upon
the
living
voice
of
the
Eternal
in
the
soul
of
man
!
'
Involuntarily
his
pace
quickened
.
The
whole
man
was
gathered
into
one
great
,
useless
,
pitiful
defiance
,
and
the
outer
world
was
forgotten
.
The
squire
kept
up
with
difficulty
a
while
,
a
faint
glimmer
of
sarcasm
playing
now
and
then
round
the
straight
thin-lipped
mouth
.
Then
suddenly
he
stopped
.
'
No
,
let
it
be
.
Forget
me
and
my
book
,
Elsmere
.
Everything
can
be
got
out
of
in
this
world
.
By
the
way
,
we
seem
to
have
reached
the
ends
of
the
earth
.
Those
are
the
new
Mile
End
cottages
,
I
believe
.
With
your
leave
,
I
'll
sit
down
in
one
of
them
,
and
send
to
the
Hall
for
the
carriage
.
'
Elsmere
's
repentant
attention
was
drawn
at
once
to
his
companion
.
'
I
am
a
selfish
idiot
,
'
he
said
hotly
,
'
to
have
led
you
into
over-walking
and
over-talking
like
this
.
'
The
squire
made
some
short
reply
and
instantly
turned
the
matter
off
.
The
momentary
softness
which
had
marked
his
meeting
with
Elsmere
had
entirely
vanished
,
leaving
only
the
Mr.
Wendover
of
every
day
,
who
was
merely
made
awkward
and
unapproachable
by
the
slightest
touch
of
personal
sympathy
.
No
living
being
,
certainly
not
his
foolish
little
sister
,
had
any
right
to
take
care
of
the
squire
.
And
as
the
signs
of
age
became
more
apparent
,
this
one
fact
had
often
worked
powerfully
on
the
sympathies
of
Elsmere
's
chivalrous
youth
,
though
as
yet
he
had
been
no
more
capable
than
any
one
else
of
breaking
through
the
squire
's
haughty
reserve
.
As
they
turned
down
the
newly-worn
track
to
the
cottages
,
whereof
the
weekly
progress
had
been
for
some
time
the
delight
of
Elsmere
's
heart
,
they
met
old
Meyrick
in
his
pony-carriage
.
He
stopped
his
shambling
steed
at
sight
of
the
pair
.
The
bleared
spectacled
eyes
lit
up
,
the
prim
mouth
broke
into
a
smile
which
matched
the
April
sun
.
'
Well
,
Squire
;
well
,
Mr.
Elsmere
,
are
you
going
to
have
a
look
at
those
places
?
Never
saw
such
palaces
.
I
only
hope
I
may
end
my
days
in
anything
so
good
.
Will
you
give
me
a
lease
,
Squire
?
'
Mr.
Wendover
's
deep
eyes
took
a
momentary
survey
,
half
indulgent
,
half
contemptuous
,
of
the
naïve
,
awkward-looking
old
creature
in
the
pony-carriage
.
Then
,
without
troubling
to
find
an
answer
,
he
went
his
way
.
Robert
stayed
chatting
a
moment
or
two
,
knowing
perfectly
well
what
Meyrick
's
gay
garrulity
meant
.
A
sharp
and
bitter
sense
of
the
ironies
of
life
swept
across
him
.
The
squire
humanised
,
influenced
by
him
—
he
knew
that
was
the
image
in
Meyrick
's
mind
;
he
remembered
with
a
quiet
scorn
its
presence
in
his
own
.
And
never
,
never
had
he
felt
his
own
weakness
and
the
strength
of
that
grim
personality
so
much
as
at
that
instant
.
That
evening
Catherine
noticed
an
unusual
silence
and
depression
in
Robert
.
She
did
her
best
to
cheer
it
away
,
to
get
at
the
cause
of
it
.
In
vain
.
At
last
,
with
her
usual
wise
tenderness
,
she
left
him
alone
,
conscious
herself
,
as
she
closed
the
study
door
behind
her
,
of
a
momentary
dreariness
of
soul
,
coming
she
knew
not
whence
,
and
only
dispersed
by
the
instinctive
upward
leap
of
prayer
.
Robert
was
no
sooner
alone
than
he
put
down
his
pipe
and
sat
brooding
over
the
fire
.
All
the
long
debate
of
the
afternoon
began
to
fight
itself
out
again
in
the
shrinking
mind
.
Suddenly
,
in
his
restless
pain
,
a
thought
occurred
to
him
.
He
had
been
much
struck
in
the
squire
's
conversation
by
certain
allusions
to
arguments
drawn
from
the
Book
of
Daniel
.
It
was
not
a
subject
with
which
Robert
had
any
great
familiarity
.
He
remembered
his
Pusey
dimly
,
certain
Divinity
lectures
,
an
article
of
Westcott
's
.
He
raised
his
hand
quickly
and
took
down
the
monograph
on
The
Use
of
the
Old
Testament
in
the
New
,
which
the
squire
had
sent
him
in
the
earliest
days
of
their
acquaintance
.
A
secret
dread
and
repugnance
had
held
him
from
it
till
now
.
Curiously
enough
it
was
not
he
but
Catherine
,
as
we
shall
see
,
who
had
opened
it
first
.
Now
,
however
,
he
got
it
down
and
turned
to
the
section
on
Daniel
.
It
was
a
change
of
conviction
on
the
subject
of
the
date
and
authorship
of
this
strange
product
of
Jewish
patriotism
in
the
second
century
before
Christ
that
drove
M
.
Renan
out
of
the
Church
of
Rome
.
'
For
the
Catholic
Church
to
confess
,
'
he
says
in
his
Souvenirs
,
'
that
Daniel
is
an
apocryphal
book
of
the
time
of
the
Maccabees
,
would
be
to
confess
that
she
had
made
a
mistake
;
if
she
had
made
this
mistake
,
she
may
have
made
others
;
she
is
no
longer
divinely
inspired
.
'
The
Protestant
,
who
is
in
truth
more
bound
to
the
Book
of
Daniel
than
M
.
Renan
,
has
various
ways
of
getting
over
the
difficulties
raised
against
the
supposed
authorship
of
the
book
by
modern
criticism
.
Robert
found
all
these
ways
enumerated
in
the
brilliant
and
vigorous
pages
of
the
book
before
him
.
In
the
first
place
,
like
the
orthodox
Saint-Sulpicien
,
the
Protestant
meets
the
critic
with
a
flat
non
possumus
.
'
Your
arguments
are
useless
and
irrelevant
,
'
he
says
in
effect
.
'
However
plausible
may
be
your
objections
,
the
Book
of
Daniel
is
what
it
professes
to
be
,
because
our
Lord
quoted
it
in
such
a
manner
as
to
distinctly
recognise
its
authority
.
The
All-True
and
All-Knowing
cannot
have
made
a
mistake
,
nor
can
He
have
expressly
led
His
disciples
to
regard
as
genuine
and
Divine
,
prophecies
which
were
in
truth
the
inventions
of
an
ingenious
romancer
.
'
But
the
liberal
Anglican
—
the
man
,
that
is
to
say
,
whose
logical
sense
is
inferior
to
his
sense
of
literary
probabilities
—
proceeds
quite
differently
.
'
Your
arguments
are
perfectly
just
,
'
he
says
to
the
critic
;
'
the
book
is
a
patriotic
fraud
,
of
no
value
except
to
the
historian
of
literature
.
But
how
do
you
know
that
our
Lord
quoted
it
as
true
in
the
strict
sense
?
In
fact
He
quoted
it
as
literature
,
as
a
Greek
might
have
quoted
Homer
,
as
an
Englishman
might
quote
Shakespeare
.
'
And
many
a
harassed
Churchman
takes
refuge
forthwith
in
the
new
explanation
.
It
is
very
difficult
,
no
doubt
,
to
make
the
passages
in
the
Gospels
agree
with
it
,
but
at
the
bottom
of
his
mind
there
is
a
saving
silent
scorn
for
the
old
theories
of
inspiration
.
He
admits
to
himself
that
probably
Christ
was
not
correctly
reported
in
the
matter
.
Then
appears
the
critic
,
having
no
interests
to
serve
,
no
parti
pris
to
defend
,
and
states
the
matter
calmly
,
dispassionately
,
as
it
appears
to
him
.
'
No
reasonable
man
,
'
says
the
ablest
German
exponent
of
the
Book
of
Daniel
,
'
can
doubt
'
—
that
this
most
interesting
piece
of
writing
belongs
to
the
year
169
or
170
B.C.
It
was
written
to
stir
up
the
courage
and
patriotism
of
the
Jews
,
weighed
down
by
the
persecutions
of
Antiochus
Epiphanes
.
It
had
enormous
vogue
.
It
inaugurated
a
new
Apocalyptic
literature
.
And
clearly
the
youth
of
Jesus
of
Nazareth
was
vitally
influenced
by
it
.
It
entered
into
his
thought
,
it
helped
to
shape
his
career
.
But
Elsmere
did
not
trouble
himself
much
with
the
critic
,
as
at
any
rate
he
was
reported
by
the
author
of
the
book
before
him
.
Long
before
the
critical
case
was
reached
,
he
had
flung
the
book
heavily
from
him
.
The
mind
accomplished
its
further
task
without
help
from
outside
.
In
the
stillness
of
the
night
there
rose
up
weirdly
before
him
a
whole
new
mental
picture
—
effacing
,
pushing
out
,
innumerable
older
images
of
thought
.
It
was
the
image
of
a
purely
human
Christ
—
a
purely
human
,
explicable
,
yet
always
wonderful
Christianity
.
It
broke
his
heart
,
but
the
spell
of
it
was
like
some
dream-country
wherein
we
see
all
the
familiar
objects
of
life
in
new
relations
and
perspectives
.
He
gazed
upon
it
fascinated
,
the
wailing
underneath
checked
a
while
by
the
strange
beauty
and
order
of
the
emerging
spectacle
.
Only
a
little
while
!
Then
with
a
groan
Elsmere
looked
up
,
his
eyes
worn
,
his
lips
white
and
set
.
'
I
must
face
it
—
I
must
face
it
through
!
God
help
me
!
'
A
slight
sound
overhead
in
Catherine
's
room
sent
a
sudden
spasm
of
feeling
through
the
young
face
.
He
threw
himself
down
,
hiding
from
his
own
foresight
of
what
was
to
be
.
'
My
darling
,
my
darling
!
But
she
shall
know
nothing
of
it
—
yet
.
'
CHAPTER
XXV
And
he
did
face
it
through
.
The
next
three
months
were
the
bitterest
months
of
Elsmere
's
life
.
They
were
marked
by
anguished
mental
struggle
,
by
a
consciousness
of
painful
separation
from
the
soul
nearest
to
his
own
,
and
by
a
constantly
increasing
sense
of
oppression
,
of
closing
avenues
and
narrowing
alternatives
,
which
for
weeks
together
seemed
to
hold
the
mind
in
a
grip
whence
there
was
no
escape
.
That
struggle
was
not
hurried
and
embittered
by
the
bodily
presence
of
the
squire
.
Mr.
Wendover
went
off
to
Italy
a
few
days
after
the
conversation
we
have
described
.
But
though
he
was
not
present
in
the
flesh
the
great
book
of
his
life
was
in
Elsmere
's
hands
,
he
had
formally
invited
Elsmere
's
remarks
upon
it
;
and
the
air
of
Murewell
seemed
still
echoing
with
his
sentences
,
still
astir
with
his
thoughts
.
That
curious
instinct
of
pursuit
,
that
avid
imperious
wish
to
crush
an
irritating
resistance
,
which
his
last
walk
with
Elsmere
had
first
awakened
in
him
with
any
strength
,
persisted
.
He
wrote
to
Robert
from
abroad
,
and
the
proud
fastidious
scholar
had
never
taken
more
pains
with
anything
than
with
those
letters
.
Robert
might
have
stopped
them
,
might
have
cast
the
whole
matter
from
him
with
one
resolute
effort
.
In
other
relations
he
had
will
enough
and
to
spare
.
Was
it
an
unexpected
weakness
of
fibre
that
made
it
impossible
?
—
that
had
placed
him
in
this
way
at
the
squire
's
disposal
?
Half
the
world
would
answer
yes
.
Might
not
the
other
half
plead
that
in
every
generation
there
is
a
minority
of
these
mobile
,
impressionable
,
defenceless
natures
,
who
are
ultimately
at
the
mercy
of
experience
,
at
the
mercy
of
thought
,
at
the
mercy
(
shall
we
say
?
)
of
truth
;
and
that
,
in
fact
,
it
is
from
this
minority
that
all
human
advance
comes
?
During
these
three
miserable
months
it
cannot
be
said
—
poor
Elsmere
!
—
that
he
attempted
any
systematic
study
of
Christian
evidence
.
His
mind
was
too
much
torn
,
his
heart
too
sore
.
He
pounced
feverishly
on
one
test
point
after
another
,
on
the
Pentateuch
,
the
Prophets
,
the
relation
of
the
New
Testament
to
the
thoughts
and
beliefs
of
its
time
,
the
Gospel
of
St.
John
,
the
evidence
as
to
the
Resurrection
,
the
intellectual
and
moral
conditions
surrounding
the
formation
of
the
Canon
.
His
mind
swayed
hither
and
thither
,
driven
from
each
resting-place
in
turn
by
the
pressure
of
some
new
difficulty
.
And
—
let
it
be
said
again
—
all
through
,
the
only
constant
element
in
the
whole
dismal
process
was
his
trained
historical
sense
.
If
he
had
gone
through
this
conflict
at
Oxford
,
for
instance
,
he
would
have
come
out
of
it
unscathed
:
for
he
would
simply
have
remained
throughout
it
ignorant
of
the
true
problems
at
issue
.
As
it
was
,
the
keen
instrument
he
had
sharpened
so
laboriously
on
indifferent
material
now
ploughed
its
agonising
way
,
bit
by
bit
,
into
the
most
intimate
recesses
of
thought
and
faith
.
Much
of
the
actual
struggle
he
was
able
to
keep
from
Catherine
's
view
,
as
he
had
vowed
to
himself
to
keep
it
.
For
after
the
squire
's
departure
Mrs.
Darcy
too
went
joyously
up
to
London
to
flutter
a
while
through
the
golden
alleys
of
Mayfair
;
and
Elsmere
was
left
once
more
in
undisturbed
possession
of
the
Murewell
library
.
There
for
a
while
on
every
day
—
oh
,
pitiful
relief
!
—
he
could
hide
himself
from
the
eyes
he
loved
.
But
,
after
all
,
married
love
allows
of
nothing
but
the
shallowest
concealments
.
Catherine
had
already
had
one
or
two
alarms
.
Once
,
in
Robert
's
study
,
among
a
tumbled
mass
of
books
he
had
pulled
out
in
search
of
something
missing
,
and
which
she
was
putting
in
order
,
she
had
come
across
that
very
book
on
the
Prophecies
which
at
a
critical
moment
had
so
deeply
affected
Elsmere
.
It
lay
open
,
and
Catherine
was
caught
by
the
heading
of
a
section
:
'
The
Messianic
Idea
.
'
She
began
to
read
,
mechanically
at
first
,
and
read
about
a
page
.
That
page
so
shocked
a
mind
accustomed
to
a
purely
traditional
and
mystical
interpretation
of
the
Bible
that
the
book
dropped
abruptly
from
her
hand
,
and
she
stood
a
moment
by
her
husband
's
table
,
her
fine
face
pale
and
frowning
.
She
noticed
,
with
bitterness
,
Mr.
Wendover
's
name
on
the
title-page
.
Was
it
right
for
Robert
to
have
such
books
?
Was
it
wise
,
was
it
prudent
,
for
the
Christian
to
measure
himself
against
such
antagonism
as
this
?
She
wrestled
painfully
with
the
question
.
'
Oh
,
but
I
ca
n't
understand
,
'
she
said
to
herself
with
an
almost
agonised
energy
.
'
It
is
I
who
am
timid
,
faithless
!
He
must
—
he
must
—
know
what
they
say
;
he
must
have
gone
through
the
dark
places
if
he
is
to
carry
others
through
them
.
'
So
she
stilled
and
trampled
on
the
inward
protest
.
She
yearned
to
speak
of
it
to
Robert
,
but
something
withheld
her
.
In
her
passionate
wifely
trust
she
could
not
bear
to
seem
to
question
the
use
he
made
of
his
time
and
thought
;
and
a
delicate
moral
scruple
warned
her
she
might
easily
allow
her
dislike
of
the
Wendover
friendship
to
lead
her
into
exaggeration
and
injustice
.
But
the
stab
of
that
moment
recurred
—
dealt
now
by
one
slight
incident
,
now
by
another
.
And
after
the
squire
's
departure
Catherine
suddenly
realised
that
the
whole
atmosphere
of
their
home-life
was
changed
.
Robert
was
giving
himself
to
his
people
with
a
more
scrupulous
energy
than
ever
.
Never
had
she
seen
him
so
pitiful
,
so
full
of
heart
for
every
human
creature
.
His
sermons
,
with
their
constant
imaginative
dwelling
on
the
earthly
life
of
Jesus
,
affected
her
now
with
a
poignancy
,
a
pathos
,
which
were
almost
unbearable
.
And
his
tenderness
to
her
was
beyond
words
.
But
with
that
tenderness
there
was
constantly
mixed
a
note
of
remorse
,
a
painful
self-depreciation
which
she
could
hardly
notice
in
speech
,
but
which
every
now
and
then
wrung
her
heart
.
And
in
his
parish
work
he
often
showed
a
depression
,
an
irritability
,
entirely
new
to
her
.
He
who
had
always
the
happiest
power
of
forgetting
to-morrow
all
the
rubs
of
to-day
,
seemed
now
quite
incapable
of
saving
himself
and
his
cheerfulness
in
the
old
ways
,
nay
,
had
developed
a
capacity
for
sheer
worry
she
had
never
seen
in
him
before
.
And
meanwhile
all
the
old
gossips
of
the
place
spoke
their
mind
freely
to
Catherine
on
the
subject
of
the
rector
's
looks
,
coupling
their
remarks
with
a
variety
of
prescriptions
,
out
of
which
Robert
did
sometimes
manage
to
get
one
of
his
old
laughs
.
His
sleeplessness
,
too
,
which
had
always
been
a
constitutional
tendency
,
had
become
now
so
constant
and
wearing
that
Catherine
began
to
feel
a
nervous
hatred
of
his
book-work
,
and
of
those
long
mornings
at
the
Hall
;
a
passionate
wish
to
put
an
end
to
it
,
and
carry
him
away
for
a
holiday
.
But
he
would
not
hear
of
the
holiday
,
and
he
could
hardly
bear
any
talk
of
himself
.
And
Catherine
had
been
brought
up
in
a
school
of
feeling
which
bade
love
be
very
scrupulous
,
very
delicate
,
and
which
recognised
in
the
strongest
way
the
right
of
every
human
soul
to
its
own
privacy
,
its
own
reserves
.
That
something
definite
troubled
him
she
was
certain
.
What
it
was
he
clearly
avoided
telling
her
,
and
she
could
not
hurt
him
by
impatience
.
He
would
tell
her
soon
—
when
it
was
right
—
she
cried
pitifully
to
herself
.
Meantime
both
suffered
,
she
not
knowing
why
,
clinging
to
each
other
the
while
more
passionately
than
ever
.
One
night
,
however
,
coming
down
in
her
dressing-gown
into
the
study
in
search
of
a
Christian
Year
she
had
left
behind
her
,
she
found
Robert
with
papers
strewn
before
him
,
his
arms
on
the
table
and
his
head
laid
down
upon
them
.
He
looked
up
as
she
came
in
,
and
the
expression
of
his
eyes
drew
her
to
him
irresistibly
.
'
Were
you
asleep
,
Robert
?
Do
come
to
bed
!
'
He
sat
up
,
and
with
a
pathetic
gesture
held
out
his
arms
to
her
.
She
came
on
to
his
knee
,
putting
her
white
arms
round
his
neck
,
while
he
leant
his
head
against
her
breast
.
'
Are
you
tired
with
all
your
walking
to-day
?
'
she
said
presently
,
a
pang
at
her
heart
.
'
I
am
tired
,
'
he
said
,
'
but
not
with
walking
.
'
'
Does
your
book
worry
you
?
You
should
n't
work
so
hard
,
Robert
—
you
should
n't
!
'
He
started
.
'
Do
n't
talk
of
it
.
Do
n't
let
us
talk
or
think
at
all
,
only
feel
!
'
And
he
tightened
his
arms
round
her
,
happy
once
more
for
a
moment
in
this
environment
of
a
perfect
love
.
There
was
silence
for
a
few
moments
,
Catherine
feeling
more
and
more
disturbed
and
anxious
.
'
Think
of
your
mountains
,
'
he
said
presently
,
his
eyes
still
pressed
against
her
,
'
of
High
Fell
and
the
moonlight
and
the
house
where
Mary
Backhouse
died
.
Oh
!
Catherine
,
I
see
you
still
,
and
shall
always
see
you
,
as
I
saw
you
then
,
my
angel
of
healing
and
of
grace
!
'
'
I
too
have
been
thinking
of
her
to-night
,
'
said
Catherine
softly
,
'
and
of
the
walk
to
Shanmoor
.
This
evening
in
the
garden
it
seemed
to
me
as
though
there
were
Westmoreland
scents
in
the
air
!
I
was
haunted
by
a
vision
of
bracken
,
and
rocks
,
and
sheep
browsing
up
the
fell
slopes
.
'
'
Oh
for
a
breath
of
the
wind
on
High
Fell
!
'
cried
Robert
,
—
it
was
so
new
to
her
,
the
dear
voice
with
this
accent
in
it
of
yearning
depression
!
'
I
want
more
of
the
spirit
of
the
mountains
,
their
serenity
,
their
strength
.
Say
me
that
Duddon
sonnet
you
used
to
say
to
me
there
,
as
you
said
it
to
me
that
last
Sunday
before
our
wedding
,
when
we
walked
up
the
Shanmoor
road
to
say
good-bye
to
that
blessed
spot
.
Oh
!
how
I
sit
and
think
of
it
sometimes
,
when
life
seems
to
be
going
crookedly
,
that
rock
on
the
fell-side
where
I
found
you
,
and
caught
you
,
and
snared
you
,
my
dove
,
for
ever
.
'
And
Catherine
,
whose
mere
voice
was
as
balm
to
this
man
of
many
impulses
,
repeated
to
him
,
softly
in
the
midnight
silence
,
those
noble
lines
in
which
Wordsworth
has
expressed
,
with
the
reserve
and
yet
the
strength
of
the
great
poet
,
the
loftiest
yearning
of
the
purest
hearts
—
'
Enough
,
if
something
from
our
hand
have
power
To
live
and
move
,
and
serve
the
future
hour
,
And
if
,
as
towards
the
silent
tomb
we
go
,
Through
love
,
through
hope
,
and
faith
's
transcendent
dower
,
We
feel
that
we
are
greater
than
we
know
.
'
'
He
has
divined
it
all
,
'
said
Robert
,
drawing
a
long
breath
when
she
stopped
,
which
seemed
to
relax
the
fibres
of
the
inner
man
,
'
the
fever
and
the
fret
of
human
thought
,
the
sense
of
littleness
,
of
impotence
,
of
evanescence
—
and
he
has
soothed
it
all
!
'
'
Oh
,
not
all
,
not
all
!
'
cried
Catherine
,
her
look
kindling
,
and
her
rare
passion
breaking
through
;
'
how
little
in
comparison
!
'
For
her
thoughts
were
with
him
of
whom
it
was
said
,
'
He
needed
not
that
any
one
should
bear
witness
concerning
man
,
for
he
knew
what
was
in
man
.
'
But
Robert
's
only
response
was
silence
and
a
kind
of
quivering
sigh
.
'
Robert
!
'
she
cried
,
pressing
her
cheek
against
his
temple
,
'
tell
me
,
my
dear
,
dear
husband
,
what
it
is
troubles
you
.
Something
does
—
I
am
certain
—
certain
!
'
'
Catherine
—
wife
—
beloved
!
'
he
said
to
her
,
after
another
pause
,
in
a
tone
of
strange
tension
she
never
forgot
;
'
generations
of
men
and
women
have
known
what
it
is
to
be
led
spiritually
into
the
desert
,
into
that
outer
wilderness
where
even
the
Lord
was
"
tempted
.
"
What
am
I
that
I
should
claim
to
escape
it
?
And
you
cannot
come
through
it
with
me
,
my
darling
—
no
,
not
even
you
!
It
is
loneliness
—
it
is
solitariness
itself
—
—
'
and
he
shuddered
.
'
But
pray
for
me
—
pray
that
He
may
be
with
me
,
and
that
at
the
end
there
may
be
light
!
'
He
pressed
her
to
him
convulsively
,
then
gently
released
her
.
His
solemn
eyes
,
fixed
upon
her
as
she
stood
there
beside
him
,
seemed
to
forbid
her
to
say
a
word
more
.
She
stooped
;
she
laid
her
lips
to
his
;
it
was
a
meeting
of
soul
with
soul
;
then
she
went
softly
out
,
breaking
the
quiet
of
the
house
by
a
stifled
sob
as
she
passed
upstairs
.
Oh
!
but
at
last
she
thought
she
understood
him
.
She
had
not
passed
her
girlhood
,
side
by
side
with
a
man
of
delicate
fibre
,
of
melancholy
and
scrupulous
temperament
,
and
within
hearing
of
all
the
natural
interests
of
a
deeply
religious
mind
,
religious
biography
,
religious
psychology
,
and
—
within
certain
sharply
defined
limits
—
religious
speculation
,
without
being
brought
face
to
face
with
the
black
possibilities
of
'
doubts
'
and
'
difficulties
'
as
barriers
in
the
Christian
path
.
Has
not
almost
every
Christian
of
illustrious
excellence
been
tried
and
humbled
by
them
?
Catherine
,
looking
back
upon
her
own
youth
,
could
remember
certain
crises
of
religious
melancholy
,
during
which
she
had
often
dropped
off
to
sleep
at
night
on
a
pillow
wet
with
tears
.
They
had
passed
away
quickly
,
and
for
ever
.
But
she
went
back
to
them
now
,
straining
her
eyes
through
the
darkness
of
her
own
past
,
recalling
her
father
's
days
of
spiritual
depression
,
and
the
few
difficult
words
she
had
sometimes
heard
from
him
as
to
those
bitter
times
of
religious
dryness
and
hopelessness
,
by
which
God
chastens
from
time
to
time
His
most
faithful
and
heroic
souls
.
A
half-contempt
awoke
in
her
for
the
unclouded
serenity
and
confidence
of
her
own
inner
life
.
If
her
own
spiritual
experience
had
gone
deeper
,
she
told
herself
with
the
strangest
self-blame
,
she
would
have
been
able
now
to
understand
Robert
better
—
to
help
him
more
.
She
thought
as
she
lay
awake
after
those
painful
moments
in
the
study
,
the
tears
welling
up
slowly
in
the
darkness
,
of
many
things
that
had
puzzled
her
in
the
past
.
She
remembered
the
book
she
had
seen
on
his
table
;
her
thoughts
travelled
over
his
months
of
intercourse
with
the
squire
;
and
the
memory
of
Mr.
Newcome
's
attitude
towards
the
man
whom
he
conceived
to
be
his
Lord
's
adversary
,
as
contrasted
with
Robert
's
,
filled
her
with
a
shrinking
pain
she
dared
not
analyse
.
Still
all
through
,
her
feeling
towards
her
husband
was
in
the
main
akin
to
that
of
the
English
civilian
at
home
towards
English
soldiers
abroad
,
suffering
and
dying
that
England
may
be
great
.
She
had
sheltered
herself
all
her
life
from
those
deadly
forces
of
unbelief
which
exist
in
English
society
,
by
a
steady
refusal
to
know
what
,
however
,
any
educated
university
man
must
perforce
know
.
But
such
a
course
of
action
was
impossible
for
Robert
.
He
had
been
forced
into
the
open
,
into
the
full
tide
of
the
Lord
's
battle
.
The
chances
of
that
battle
are
many
;
and
the
more
courage
the
more
risk
of
wounds
and
pain
.
But
the
great
Captain
knows
—
the
great
Captain
does
not
forget
His
own
!
For
never
,
never
had
she
the
smallest
doubt
as
to
the
issue
of
this
sudden
crisis
in
her
husband
's
consciousness
,
even
when
she
came
nearest
to
apprehending
its
nature
.
As
well
might
she
doubt
the
return
of
daylight
,
as
dream
of
any
permanent
eclipse
descending
upon
the
faith
which
had
shone
through
every
detail
of
Robert
's
ardent
impulsive
life
,
with
all
its
struggles
,
all
its
failings
,
all
its
beauty
,
since
she
had
known
him
first
.
The
dread
did
not
even
occur
to
her
.
In
her
agony
of
pity
and
reverence
she
thought
of
him
as
passing
through
a
trial
,
which
is
specially
the
believer
's
trial
—
the
chastening
by
which
God
proves
the
soul
He
loves
.
Let
her
only
love
and
trust
in
patience
.
So
that
day
by
day
as
Robert
's
depression
still
continued
,
Catherine
surrounded
him
with
the
tenderest
and
wisest
affection
.
Her
quiet
common
sense
made
itself
heard
,
forbidding
her
to
make
too
much
of
the
change
in
him
,
which
might
after
all
,
she
thought
,
be
partly
explained
by
the
mere
physical
results
of
his
long
strain
of
body
and
mind
during
the
Mile
End
epidemic
.
And
for
the
rest
she
would
not
argue
;
she
would
not
inquire
.
She
only
prayed
that
she
might
so
lead
the
Christian
life
beside
him
,
that
the
Lord
's
tenderness
,
the
Lord
's
consolation
,
might
shine
upon
him
through
her
.
It
had
never
been
her
wont
to
speak
to
him
much
about
his
own
influence
,
his
own
effect
,
in
the
parish
.
To
the
austerer
Christian
considerations
of
this
kind
are
forbidden
:
'
It
is
not
I
,
but
Christ
that
worketh
in
me
.
'
But
now
,
whenever
she
came
across
any
striking
trace
of
his
power
over
the
weak
or
the
impure
,
the
sick
or
the
sad
,
she
would
in
some
way
make
it
known
to
him
,
offering
it
to
him
in
her
delicate
tenderness
,
as
though
it
were
a
gift
that
the
Father
had
laid
in
her
hand
for
him
—
a
token
that
the
Master
was
still
indeed
with
His
servant
,
and
that
all
was
fundamentally
well
!
And
so
much
,
perhaps
,
the
contact
with
his
wife
's
faith
,
the
power
of
her
love
,
wrought
in
Robert
,
that
during
these
weeks
and
months
he
also
never
lost
his
own
certainty
of
emergence
from
the
shadow
which
had
overtaken
him
.
And
,
indeed
,
driven
on
from
day
to
day
as
he
was
by
an
imperious
intellectual
thirst
which
would
be
satisfied
,
the
religion
of
the
heart
,
the
imaginative
emotional
habit
of
years
,
that
incessant
drama
which
the
soul
enacts
with
the
Divine
Powers
to
which
it
feels
itself
committed
,
lived
and
persisted
through
it
all
.
Feeling
was
untouched
.
The
heart
was
still
passionately
on
the
side
of
all
its
old
loves
and
adorations
,
still
blindly
trustful
that
in
the
end
,
by
some
compromise
as
yet
unseen
,
they
would
be
restored
to
it
intact
.
Some
time
towards
the
end
of
July
Robert
was
coming
home
from
the
Hall
before
lunch
,
tired
and
worn
,
as
the
morning
always
left
him
,
and
meditating
some
fresh
sheets
of
the
squire
's
proofs
which
had
been
in
his
hands
that
morning
.
On
the
road
crossing
that
to
the
rectory
he
suddenly
saw
Reginald
Newcome
,
thinner
and
whiter
than
ever
,
striding
along
as
fast
as
cassock
and
cloak
would
let
him
,
his
eyes
on
the
ground
,
and
his
wideawake
drawn
over
them
.
He
and
Elsmere
had
scarcely
met
for
months
,
and
Robert
had
lately
made
up
his
mind
that
Newcome
was
distinctly
less
friendly
,
and
wished
to
show
it
.
Elsmere
had
touched
his
arm
before
Newcome
had
perceived
any
one
near
him
.
Then
he
drew
back
with
a
start
.
'
Elsmere
,
you
here
!
I
had
an
idea
you
were
away
for
a
holiday
!
'
'
Oh
dear
,
no
!
'
said
Robert
,
smiling
.
'
I
may
get
away
in
September
,
perhaps
—
not
till
then
.
'
'
Mr
.
Wendover
at
home
?
'
said
the
other
,
his
eyes
turning
to
the
Hall
,
of
which
the
chimneys
were
just
visible
from
where
they
stood
.
'
No
,
he
is
abroad
.
'
'
You
and
he
have
made
friends
,
I
understand
,
'
said
the
other
abruptly
,
his
eagle
look
returning
to
Elsmere
;
'
I
hear
of
you
as
always
together
.
'
'
We
have
made
friends
,
and
we
walk
a
great
deal
when
the
squire
is
here
,
'
said
Robert
,
meeting
Newcome
's
harshness
of
tone
with
a
bright
dignity
'
Mr
.
Wendover
has
even
been
doing
something
for
us
in
the
village
.
You
should
come
and
see
the
new
Institute
.
The
roof
is
on
,
and
we
shall
open
it
in
August
or
September
.
The
best
building
of
the
kind
in
the
country
by
far
,
and
Mr.
Wendover
's
gift
.
'
'
I
suppose
you
use
the
library
a
great
deal
?
'
said
Newcome
,
paying
no
attention
to
these
remarks
,
and
still
eyeing
his
companion
closely
.
'
A
great
deal
.
'
Robert
had
at
that
moment
under
his
arm
a
German
treatise
on
the
history
of
the
Logos
doctrine
,
which
afterwards
,
looking
back
on
the
little
scene
,
he
thought
it
probable
Newcome
recognised
.
They
turned
towards
the
rectory
together
,
Newcome
still
asking
abrupt
questions
as
to
the
squire
,
the
length
of
time
he
was
to
be
away
,
Elsmere
's
work
,
parochial
and
literary
,
during
the
past
six
months
,
the
numbers
of
his
Sunday
congregation
,
of
his
communicants
,
etc.
Elsmere
bore
his
catechism
with
perfect
temper
,
though
Newcome
's
manner
had
in
it
a
strange
and
almost
judicial
imperativeness
.
'
Elsmere
,
'
said
his
questioner
presently
,
after
a
pause
,
'
I
am
going
to
have
a
retreat
for
priests
at
the
Clergy
House
next
month
.
Father
H
—
—
,
'
mentioning
a
famous
High
Churchman
,
'
will
conduct
it
.
You
would
do
me
a
special
favour
'
—
and
suddenly
the
face
softened
,
and
shone
with
all
its
old
magnetism
on
Elsmere
—
'
if
you
would
come
.
I
believe
you
would
find
nothing
to
dislike
in
it
,
or
in
our
rule
,
which
is
a
most
simple
one
.
'
Robert
smiled
,
and
laid
his
hand
on
the
other
's
arm
.
'
No
,
Newcome
,
no
;
I
am
in
no
mood
for
H
—
—
.
'
The
High
Churchman
looked
at
him
with
a
quick
and
painful
anxiety
visible
in
the
stern
eyes
.
'
Will
you
tell
me
what
that
means
?
'
'
It
means
,
'
said
Robert
,
clasping
his
hands
tightly
behind
him
,
his
pace
slackening
a
little
to
meet
that
of
Newcome
—
'
it
means
that
if
you
will
give
me
your
prayers
,
Newcome
,
your
companionship
sometimes
,
your
pity
always
,
I
will
thank
you
from
the
bottom
of
my
heart
.
But
I
am
in
a
state
just
now
when
I
must
fight
my
battles
for
myself
,
and
in
God
's
sight
only
!
'
It
was
the
first
burst
of
confidence
which
had
passed
his
lips
to
any
one
but
Catherine
.
Newcome
stood
still
,
a
tremor
of
strong
emotion
running
through
the
emaciated
face
.
'
You
are
in
trouble
,
Elsmere
;
I
felt
it
,
I
knew
it
,
when
I
first
saw
you
!
'
'
Yes
,
I
am
in
trouble
,
'
said
Robert
quietly
.
'
Opinions
?
'
'
Opinions
,
I
suppose
—
or
facts
,
'
said
Robert
,
his
arms
dropping
wearily
beside
him
.
'
Have
you
ever
known
what
it
is
to
be
troubled
in
mind
,
I
wonder
,
Newcome
?
'
And
he
looked
at
his
companion
with
a
sudden
pitiful
curiosity
.
A
kind
of
flash
passed
over
Mr.
Newcome
's
face
.
'
Have
I
ever
known
?
'
he
repeated
vaguely
,
and
then
he
drew
his
thin
hand
,
the
hand
of
the
ascetic
and
the
mystic
,
hastily
across
his
eyes
,
and
was
silent
—
his
lips
moving
,
his
gaze
on
the
ground
,
his
whole
aspect
that
of
a
man
wrought
out
of
himself
by
a
sudden
passion
of
memory
.
Robert
watched
him
with
surprise
,
and
was
just
speaking
,
when
Mr.
Newcome
looked
up
,
every
drawn
attenuated
feature
working
painfully
.
'
Did
you
never
ask
yourself
,
Elsmere
,
'
he
said
slowly
,
'
what
it
was
drove
me
from
the
bar
and
journalism
to
the
East
End
?
Do
you
think
I
do
n't
know
,
'
and
his
voice
rose
,
his
eyes
flamed
,
'
what
black
devil
it
is
that
is
gnawing
at
your
heart
now
?
Why
,
man
,
I
have
been
through
darker
gulfs
of
hell
than
you
have
ever
sounded
!
Many
a
night
I
have
felt
myself
mad
—
mad
of
doubt
—
a
castaway
on
a
shoreless
sea
;
doubting
not
only
God
or
Christ
,
but
myself
,
the
soul
,
the
very
existence
of
good
.
I
found
only
one
way
out
of
it
,
and
you
will
find
only
one
way
.
'
The
lithe
hand
caught
Robert
's
arm
impetuously
—
the
voice
with
its
accent
of
fierce
conviction
was
at
his
ear
.
'
Trample
on
yourself
!
Pray
down
the
demon
,
fast
,
scourge
,
kill
the
body
,
that
the
soul
may
live
!
What
are
we
,
miserable
worms
,
that
we
should
defy
the
Most
High
,
that
we
should
set
our
wretched
faculties
against
His
Omnipotence
?
Submit
—
submit
—
humble
yourself
,
my
brother
!
Fling
away
the
freedom
which
is
your
ruin
.
There
is
no
freedom
for
man
.
Either
a
slave
to
Christ
,
or
a
slave
to
his
own
lusts
—
there
is
no
other
choice
.
Go
away
;
exchange
your
work
here
for
a
time
for
work
in
London
.
You
have
too
much
leisure
here
:
Satan
has
too
much
opportunity
.
I
foresaw
it
—
I
foresaw
it
when
you
and
I
first
met
.
I
felt
I
had
a
message
for
you
,
and
here
I
deliver
it
.
In
the
Lord
's
name
,
I
bid
you
fly
;
I
bid
you
yield
in
time
.
Better
to
be
the
Lord
's
captive
than
the
Lord
's
betrayer
!
'
The
wasted
form
was
drawn
up
to
its
full
height
,
the
arm
was
outstretched
,
the
long
cloak
fell
back
from
it
in
long
folds
—
voice
and
eye
were
majesty
itself
.
Robert
had
a
tremor
of
responsive
passion
.
How
easy
it
sounded
,
how
tempting
,
to
cut
the
knot
,
to
mutilate
and
starve
the
rebellious
intellect
which
would
assert
itself
against
the
soul
's
purest
instincts
!
Newcome
had
done
it
—
why
not
he
?
And
then
,
suddenly
,
as
he
stood
gazing
at
his
companion
,
the
spring
sun
,
and
murmur
all
about
them
,
another
face
,
another
life
,
another
message
,
flashed
on
his
inmost
sense
—
the
face
and
life
of
Henry
Grey
.
Words
torn
from
their
context
but
full
for
him
of
intensest
meaning
,
passed
rapidly
through
his
mind
:
'
God
is
not
wisely
trusted
when
declared
unintelligible
.
'
'
Such
honour
rooted
in
dishonour
stands
;
such
faith
unfaithful
makes
us
falsely
true
.
'
'
God
is
for
ever
reason
:
and
His
communication
,
His
revelation
,
is
reason
.
'
He
turned
away
with
a
slight
sad
shake
of
the
head
.
The
spell
was
broken
.
Mr.
Newcome
's
arm
dropped
,
and
he
moved
sombrely
on
beside
Robert
—
the
hand
,
which
held
a
little
book
of
Hours
against
his
cloak
,
trembling
slightly
.
At
the
rectory
gate
he
stopped
.
'
Good-bye
—
I
must
go
home
.
'
'
You
wo
n't
come
in
?
—
No
,
no
,
Newcome
;
believe
me
,
I
am
no
rash
careless
egotist
,
risking
wantonly
the
most
precious
things
in
life
!
But
the
call
is
on
me
,
and
I
must
follow
it
.
All
life
is
God
's
,
and
all
thought
—
not
only
a
fraction
of
it
.
He
cannot
let
me
wander
very
far
!
'
But
the
cold
fingers
he
held
so
warmly
dropped
from
his
,
and
Newcome
turned
away
.
A
week
afterwards
,
or
thereabouts
,
Robert
had
in
some
sense
followed
Newcome
's
counsel
.
Admonished
perhaps
by
sheer
physical
weakness
,
as
much
as
by
anything
else
,
he
had
for
the
moment
laid
down
his
arms
;
he
had
yielded
to
an
invading
feebleness
of
the
will
,
which
refused
,
as
it
were
,
to
carry
on
the
struggle
any
longer
,
at
such
a
life-destroying
pitch
of
intensity
.
The
intellectual
oppression
of
itself
brought
about
wild
reaction
and
recoil
,
and
a
passionate
appeal
to
that
inward
witness
of
the
soul
which
holds
its
own
long
after
the
reason
has
practically
ceased
to
struggle
.
It
came
about
in
this
way
.
One
morning
he
stood
reading
in
the
window
of
the
library
the
last
of
the
squire
's
letters
.
It
contained
a
short
but
masterly
analysis
of
the
mental
habits
and
idiosyncrasies
of
St.
Paul
,
à
propos
of
St.
Paul
's
witness
to
the
Resurrection
.
Every
now
and
then
,
as
Elsmere
turned
the
pages
,
the
orthodox
protest
would
assert
itself
,
the
orthodox
arguments
make
themselves
felt
as
though
in
mechanical
involuntary
protest
.
But
their
force
and
vitality
was
gone
.
Between
the
Paul
of
Anglican
theology
and
the
fiery
fallible
man
of
genius
—
so
weak
logically
,
so
strong
in
poetry
,
in
rhetoric
,
in
moral
passion
,
whose
portrait
has
been
drawn
for
us
by
a
free
and
temperate
criticism
—
the
rector
knew
,
in
a
sort
of
dull
way
,
that
his
choice
was
made
.
The
one
picture
carried
reason
and
imagination
with
it
;
the
other
contented
neither
.
But
as
he
put
down
the
letter
something
seemed
to
snap
within
him
.
Some
chord
of
physical
endurance
gave
way
.
For
five
months
he
had
been
living
intellectually
at
a
speed
no
man
maintains
with
impunity
,
and
this
letter
of
the
squire
's
,
with
its
imperious
demands
upon
the
tired
irritable
brain
,
was
the
last
straw
.
He
sank
down
on
the
oriel
seat
,
the
letter
dropping
from
his
hands
.
Outside
,
the
little
garden
,
now
a
mass
of
red
and
pink
roses
,
the
hill
and
the
distant
stretches
of
park
were
wrapped
in
a
thick
sultry
mist
,
through
which
a
dim
far-off
sunlight
struggled
on
to
the
library
floor
,
and
lay
in
ghostly
patches
on
the
polished
boards
and
lower
ranges
of
books
.
The
simplest
religious
thoughts
began
to
flow
over
him
—
the
simplest
childish
words
of
prayer
were
on
his
lips
.
He
felt
himself
delivered
,
he
knew
not
how
or
why
.
He
rose
deliberately
,
laid
the
squire
's
letter
among
his
other
papers
,
and
tied
them
up
carefully
;
then
he
took
up
the
books
which
lay
piled
on
the
squire
's
writing-table
:
all
those
volumes
of
German
,
French
,
and
English
criticism
,
liberal
or
apologetic
,
which
he
had
been
accumulating
round
him
day
by
day
with
a
feverish
toilsome
impartiality
,
and
began
rapidly
and
methodically
to
put
them
back
in
their
places
on
the
shelves
.
'
I
have
done
too
much
thinking
,
too
much
reading
,
'
he
was
saying
to
himself
as
he
went
through
his
task
.
'
Now
let
it
be
the
turn
of
something
else
!
'
And
still
as
he
handled
the
books
,
it
was
as
though
Catherine
's
figure
glided
backwards
and
forwards
beside
him
,
across
the
smooth
floor
,
as
though
her
hand
were
on
his
arm
,
her
eyes
shining
into
his
.
Ah
—
he
knew
well
what
it
was
had
made
the
sharpest
sting
of
this
wrestle
through
which
he
had
been
passing
!
It
was
not
merely
religious
dread
,
religious
shame
;
that
terror
of
disloyalty
to
the
Divine
Images
which
have
filled
the
soul
's
inmost
shrine
since
its
first
entry
into
consciousness
,
such
as
every
good
man
feels
in
a
like
strait
.
This
had
been
strong
indeed
;
but
men
are
men
,
and
love
is
love
!
Ay
,
it
was
to
the
dark
certainty
of
Catherine
's
misery
that
every
advance
in
knowledge
and
intellectual
power
had
brought
him
nearer
.
It
was
from
that
certainty
that
he
now
,
and
for
the
last
time
,
recoiled
.
It
was
too
much
.
It
could
not
be
borne
.
He
walked
home
,
counting
up
the
engagements
of
the
next
few
weeks
—
the
school-treat
,
two
club
field-days
,
a
sermon
in
the
county
town
,
the
probable
opening
of
the
new
Workmen
's
Institute
,
and
so
on
.
Oh
!
to
be
through
them
all
and
away
,
away
amid
Alpine
scents
and
silences
.
He
stood
a
moment
beside
the
gray
slowly-moving
river
,
half
hidden
beneath
the
rank
flower-growth
,
the
tansy
and
willow-herb
,
the
luxuriant
elder
and
trailing
brambles
of
its
August
banks
,
and
thought
with
hungry
passion
of
the
clean-swept
Alpine
pasture
,
the
fir-woods
,
and
the
tameless
mountain
streams
.
In
three
weeks
or
less
he
and
Catherine
should
be
climbing
the
Jaman
or
the
Dent
du
Midi
.
And
till
then
he
would
want
all
his
time
for
men
and
women
.
Books
should
hold
him
no
more
.
Catherine
only
put
her
arms
round
his
neck
in
silence
when
he
told
her
.
The
relief
was
too
great
for
words
.
He
,
too
,
held
her
close
,
saying
nothing
.
But
that
night
,
for
the
first
time
for
weeks
,
Elsmere
's
wife
slept
in
peace
and
woke
without
dread
of
the
day
before
her
.
BOOK
IV
CRISIS
CHAPTER
XXVI
The
next
fortnight
was
a
time
of
truce
.
Elsmere
neither
read
nor
reasoned
.
He
spent
his
days
in
the
school
,
in
the
village
,
pottering
about
the
Mile
End
cottages
,
or
the
new
Institute
—
sometimes
fishing
,
sometimes
passing
long
summer
hours
on
the
commons
with
his
club
boys
,
hunting
the
ponds
for
caddises
,
newts
,
and
water-beetles
,
peering
into
the
furze-bushes
for
second
broods
,
or
watching
the
sand-martins
in
the
gravel-pits
,
and
trudging
home
at
night
in
the
midst
of
an
escort
of
enthusiasts
,
all
of
them
with
pockets
as
full
and
miry
as
his
own
,
to
deposit
the
treasures
of
the
day
in
the
club-room
.
Once
more
the
rector
,
though
physically
perhaps
less
ardent
than
of
yore
,
was
the
life
of
the
party
,
and
a
certain
awe
and
strangeness
which
had
developed
in
his
boys
'
minds
towards
him
,
during
the
last
few
weeks
,
passed
away
.
It
was
curious
that
in
these
days
he
would
neither
sit
nor
walk
alone
if
he
could
help
it
.
Catherine
or
a
stray
parishioner
was
almost
always
with
him
.
All
the
while
,
vaguely
,
in
the
depths
of
consciousness
,
there
was
the
knowledge
that
behind
this
piece
of
quiet
water
on
which
his
life
was
now
sailing
,
there
lay
storm
and
darkness
,
and
that
in
front
loomed
fresh
possibilities
of
tempest
.
He
knew
,
in
a
way
,
that
it
was
a
treacherous
peace
which
had
overtaken
him
.
And
yet
it
was
peace
.
The
pressure
exerted
by
the
will
had
temporarily
given
way
,
and
the
deepest
forces
of
the
man
's
being
had
reasserted
themselves
.
He
could
feel
and
love
and
pray
again
;
and
Catherine
,
seeing
the
old
glow
in
the
eyes
,
the
old
spring
in
the
step
,
made
the
whole
of
life
one
thank-offering
.
On
the
evening
following
that
moment
of
reaction
in
the
Murewell
library
,
Robert
had
written
to
the
squire
.
His
letter
had
been
practically
a
withdrawal
from
the
correspondence
.
'
I
find
,
'
he
wrote
,
'
that
I
have
been
spending
too
much
time
and
energy
lately
on
these
critical
matters
.
It
seems
to
me
that
my
work
as
a
clergyman
has
suffered
.
Nor
can
I
deny
that
your
book
and
your
letters
have
been
to
me
a
source
of
great
trouble
of
mind
.
'
My
heart
is
where
it
was
,
but
my
head
is
often
confused
.
Let
controversy
rest
a
while
.
My
wife
says
I
want
a
holiday
;
I
think
so
myself
,
and
we
are
off
in
three
weeks
;
not
,
however
,
I
hope
,
before
we
have
welcomed
you
home
again
,
and
got
you
to
open
the
new
Institute
,
which
is
already
dazzling
the
eyes
of
the
village
by
its
size
and
splendour
,
and
the
white
paint
that
Harris
the
builder
has
been
lavishing
upon
it
.
'
Ten
days
later
,
rather
earlier
than
was
expected
,
the
squire
and
Mrs.
Darcy
were
at
home
again
.
Robert
re-entered
the
great
house
the
morning
after
their
arrival
with
a
strange
reluctance
.
Its
glow
and
magnificence
,
the
warm
perfumed
air
of
the
hall
,
brought
back
a
sense
of
old
oppressions
,
and
he
walked
down
the
passage
to
the
library
with
a
sinking
heart
.
There
he
found
the
squire
busy
as
usual
with
one
of
those
fresh
cargoes
of
books
which
always
accompanied
him
on
any
homeward
journey
.
He
was
more
brown
,
more
wrinkled
,
more
shrunken
;
more
full
of
force
,
of
harsh
epigram
,
of
grim
anecdote
than
ever
.
Robert
sat
on
the
edge
of
the
table
laughing
over
his
stories
of
French
Orientalists
,
or
Roman
cardinals
,
or
modern
Greek
professors
,
enjoying
the
impartial
sarcasm
which
one
of
the
greatest
of
savants
was
always
ready
to
pour
out
upon
his
brethren
of
the
craft
.
The
squire
,
however
,
was
never
genial
for
a
moment
during
the
interview
.
He
did
not
mention
his
book
nor
Elsmere
's
letter
.
But
Elsmere
suspected
in
him
a
good
deal
of
suppressed
irritability
;
and
,
as
after
a
while
he
abruptly
ceased
to
talk
,
the
visit
grew
difficult
.
The
rector
walked
home
feeling
restless
and
depressed
.
The
mind
had
begun
to
work
again
.
It
was
only
by
a
great
effort
that
he
could
turn
his
thoughts
from
the
squire
,
and
all
that
the
squire
had
meant
to
him
during
the
past
year
,
and
so
woo
back
to
himself
'
the
shy
bird
Peace
.
'
Mr.
Wendover
watched
the
door
close
behind
him
,
and
then
went
back
to
his
work
with
a
gesture
of
impatience
.
'
Once
a
priest
,
always
a
priest
.
What
a
fool
I
was
to
forget
it
!
You
think
you
make
an
impression
on
the
mystic
,
and
at
the
bottom
there
is
always
something
which
defies
you
and
common
sense
.
"
Two
and
two
do
not
,
and
shall
not
,
make
four
,
"
'
he
said
to
himself
,
in
a
mincing
voice
of
angry
sarcasm
.
'
"
It
would
give
me
too
much
pain
that
they
should
.
"
Well
,
and
so
I
suppose
what
might
have
been
a
rational
friendship
will
go
by
the
board
like
everything
else
.
What
can
make
the
man
shilly-shally
in
this
way
?
He
is
convinced
already
,
as
he
knows
—
those
later
letters
were
conclusive
!
His
living
,
perhaps
,
and
his
work
!
Not
for
the
money
's
sake
—
there
never
was
a
more
incredibly
disinterested
person
born
.
But
his
work
?
Well
,
who
is
to
hinder
his
work
?
Will
he
be
the
first
parson
in
the
Church
of
England
who
looks
after
the
poor
and
holds
his
tongue
?
If
you
ca
n't
speak
your
mind
,
it
is
