thatwhispered
to
her
a
vague
distrust
of
him
.
She
was
therefore
waiting
anxiously
to
hear
what
would
be
said
by
others
,
before
taking
any
side
herself
;
her
mind
all
the
while
being
busy
with
the
profoundest
questions
.
This
suspense
of
judgment
produced
a
certain
gravity
and
depression
in
her
,
which
was
visible
on
her
face
,
and
which
seemed
to
communicate
itself
to
nearly
everyone
at
her
end
of
the
table
.
For
Lady
Ambrose
was
a
communicative
woman
.
Her
spirits
,
good
or
bad
,
were
generally
caught
by
those
near
her
.
As
for
Mr.
Herbert
,
however
,
no
one
else
seemed
needed
to
depress
him
.
Low
,
slow
,
and
melancholy
,
his
accents
at
once
caught
the
ear
of
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘I
have
heard
to-day
,
’
he
said
to
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
who
was
sitting
next
him
,
‘an
entirely
new
and
in
every
way
memorable
doctrine
,
which
I
never
heard
before
from
the
mouth
of
man
,
woman
,
or
child
;
nor
can
I
tell
by
what
steps
any
human
being
could
have
arrived
at
it
.
I
have
heard
that
the
world
—
the
world
as
it
is
—
could
not
be
better
than
it
is
;
that
there
is
no
real
sorrow
in
it
—
no
real
evil
—
no
real
sin.’
‘Poor
Dr.
Jenkinson
!
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
also
in
a
melancholy
voice
;
‘I
suppose
he
has
never
loved.’
‘Ah
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Stockton
,
—
his
voice
was
melancholy
as
well
—
‘the
whole
teachings
of
that
school
have
always
seemed
to
me
nothing
more
than
a
few
fragments
of
science
imperfectly
understood
,
obscured
by
a
few
fragments
of
Christianity
imperfectly
remembered.’
‘You
forget
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘that
Dr.
Jenkinson’s
Christianity
is
really
a
new
firm
trading
under
an
old
name
,
and
trying
to
purchase
the
goodwill
of
the
former
establishment.’
Lady
Ambrose
,
who
had
not
liked
Leslie
so
much
on
further
acquaintance
as
she
had
at
first
expected
she
should
,
was
very
indignant
at
him
for
so
flippant
a
speech
as
this
—
she
felt
sure
it
was
flippant
,
though
she
did
not
quite
understand
its
meaning
—
but
once
again
Mr.
Herbert’s
grave
accents
arrested
her
.
‘It
is
simply
,
’
he
was
saying
to
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
evidently
alluding
to
the
same
subject
—
‘it
is
simply
our
modern
atheism
trying
to
hide
its
own
nakedness
,
for
the
benefit
of
the
more
prudish
part
of
the
public
,
in
the
cast
grave-clothes
of
a
Christ
who
,
whether
he
be
risen
or
no
,
is
very
certainly
,
as
the
angel
said
,
not
here.’
‘All
discussion
of
such
matters
seems
to
me
but
a
diseased
activity
,
’
said
Mr.
Rose
,
raising
languidly
a
white
deprecating
hand
.
Mr.
Storks
too
,
though
for
different
reasons
,
was
apparently
of
the
same
opinion
.
‘In
his
main
points
,
’
he
said
with
a
severe
dogmatism
that
seemed
designed
to
end
all
further
controversy
,
‘and
putting
aside
his
quasi-religious
manner
of
expressing
it
—
which
considering
his
position
may
be
pardoned
—
I
conceive
Dr.
Jenkinson
to
have
been
entirely
right.’
Hitherto
Lady
Ambrose’s
views
had
been
wavering
to
and
fro
,
in
a
sad
uncertainty
.
But
now
her
mind
at
once
cleared
.
Her
worst
suspicions
of
the
Doctor
were
confirmed
by
this
fatal
commendation
.
The
gloom
on
her
face
deepened
,
and
she
had
a
look
almost
of
distress
about
her
as
she
turned
to
Laurence
.
‘You
look
tired
,
’
he
said
to
her
.
‘No
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
wearily
:
‘at
least
,
perhaps
I
am
a
little
.
Do
you
know
,
I
always
think
one
feels
rather
dull
if
one
doesn’t
get
the
letters
one
expects.’
‘Perhaps
you
don’t
know
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘that
the
letters
you
got
this
morning
were
only
those
of
last
night’s
post
.
Our
Sunday
letters
we
are
obliged
to
send
for
,
and
they
don’t
generally
come
till
later
on
in
the
day.’
‘Really
!
’
exclaimed
Lady
Ambrose
,
with
surprise
,
as
a
smile
slowly
spread
over
her
face
,
and
her
frank
eyes
lit
up
again
.
‘The
Duchess
couldn’t
have
forgotten
it
,
’
she
said
to
herself
half-consciously
.
Strangely
enough
,
a
new
warmth
,
it
seemed
,
had
dawned
upon
her
,
and
her
ice-bound
gloom
began
to
thaw
—
to
thaw
only
,
however
,
not
to
evaporate
.
It
did
not
go
;
it
only
became
voluble
.
‘Do
you
know
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
’
she
began
,
‘I
have
been
thinking
over
and
over
again
about
many
of
the
things
that
were
said
last
night
;
and
I
really
am
afraid
that
the
world
is
getting
very
bad
.
It
is
very
sad
to
think
so
;
but
,
with
all
this
infidelity
and
wickedness
of
which
we
hear
so
much
,
I’m
afraid
it
is
true
.
For
my
own
part
,
you
know
,
there
is
nothing
I
dislike
so
much
as
to
hear
the
Bible
profanely
spoken
about
;
though
,
of
course
,
I
know
one
is
tempted
sometimes
to
make
jokes
out
of
it
oneself
.
And
then
,
’
Lady
Ambrose
added
—
her
ideas
did
not
always
follow
one
another
in
the
strictest
order
—
‘hardly
a
week
passes
without
some
new
scandal
.
I
had
a
letter
only
this
morning
,
telling
me
all
the
particulars
about
Colonel
Eardly
and
poor
Lady
Arthur
.
And
that
man
,
you
know
—
just
fancy
it
!
—
it
will
not
be
very
long
before
we
shall
be
obliged
to
receive
him
again
.
However
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
with
a
slightly
more
cheerful
accent
,
‘that
sort
of
thing
,
I
believe
,
is
confined
to
us
.
The
middle
classes
are
all
right
—
at
least
,
one
always
hears
so.’
At
this
moment
Lord
Allen’s
voice
was
heard
.
‘But
now
,
’
Lady
Ambrose
went
on
to
Laurence
,
very
slightly
moving
her
head
in
the
direction
of
Lord
Allen
,
and
speaking
in
a
low
tone
,
‘how
different
he
is
!
’
Lady
Ambrose
had
the
greatest
admiration
for
Lord
Allen
,
though
her
acquaintance
with
him
had
hitherto
been
of
the
slightest
;
and
Laurence
,
not
knowing
how
to
respond
to
all
her
late
remarks
,
was
glad
that
her
attention
was
thus
called
elsewhere
.
‘Don’t
you
think
,
’
Allen
was
saying
,
half
addressing
himself
to
Mr.
Herbert
,
half
to
Mr.
Luke
,
‘that
though
at
the
present
moment
things
as
they
are
may
be
worse
than
they
have
ever
been
before
,
there
are
yet
ideas
amongst
us
of
things
as
they
might
be
,
that
are
in
advance
of
what
has
ever
been
before
?
I
know
quite
well
how
society
is
falling
to
pieces
,
and
how
all
our
notions
of
duty
are
becoming
confused
or
lost
.
I
know
too
how
utterly
without
any
religion
we
are’
—
(
Lady
Ambrose
started
)
—
‘at
least
,
any
religion
that
one
man
can
express
to
another
,
and
that
can
enable
men
to
act
in
concert
.
But
still
,
I
can’t
help
feeling
that
,
in
spite
of
all
this
,
a
higher
class
of
conceptions
both
of
religion
and
morality
,
and
social
relations
also
,
is
forming
itself
in
the
minds
of
thinking
men.’
‘Perfectly
true
,
Lord
Allen
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
‘perfectly
true
!
It
is
indeed
the
very
essence
of
the
cultured
classes
to
be
beyond
their
time
—
to
have
,
indeed
,
every
requisite
for
making
everything
better
,
except
the
practical
power
.
As
you
say
,
what
man’s
life
ought
to
be
—
what
true
morality
is
—
what
is
true
sense
,
and
what
is
true
nonsense
—
these
are
matters
never
at
any
time
distinguished
so
truly
as
by
some
of
us
in
the
latter
half
of
the
nineteenth
century
.
Only
,
unfortunately
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
sighing
slowly
,
and
looking
round
the
table
,
‘the
dense
ignorance
of
the
world
at
large
hampers
and
hinders
such
men
as
these
,
so
that
all
that
their
teaching
and
their
insight
can
do
,
is
only
to
suggest
a
Utopia
in
the
future
,
instead
of
leading
to
any
reality
in
the
present.’
‘All
my
happiness
is
in
a
kind
of
Utopia
,
’
sighed
Mrs.
Sinclair
.
‘Yes
—
yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
wearily
;
‘so
in
these
days
must
be
the
happiness
of
all
of
us
—
except
that
of
the
world
at
large.’
Mr.
Storks
was
here
heard
clearing
his
throat
.
With
an
ominous
pugilistic
smile
he
turned
towards
Mr.
Luke
.
‘Are
you
quite
sure
,
’
he
said
,
‘that
the
reason
why
your
friends
do
nothing
practical
is
not
because
they
will
build
Utopias
?
I
,
as
I
have
already
said
,
entirely
hold
with
Dr.
Jenkinson
that
the
world
is
as
good
as
it
can
be
—
has
,
indeed
,
been
always
as
good
as
it
could
have
been
—
has
,
that
is
,
been
always
persistently
progressing
by
one
constant
course
of
evolution
.
I
don’t
myself
profess
to
be
a
student
of
history
;
but
,
as
far
as
I
at
all
understand
its
teachings
,
the
one
thing
it
most
clearly
shows
to
us
is
,
that
what
strikes
a
superficial
observer
as
simply
the
decadence
of
old
orders
of
things
,
is
really
,
under
the
surface
,
the
birth
of
the
new
.
Indeed
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
,
shrugging
his
shoulders
,
‘of
course
it
must
be
so
.
We
are
all
part
of
Nature
;
and
,
little
as
we
think
it
,
we
are
all
working
together
by
invincible
and
inviolable
laws
.
Nature
will
have
her
own
way
;
and
those
who
have
studied
her
carefully
know
that
her
way
is
always
the
best
.
Even
supposing
we
could
transplant
ourselves
into
some
different
,
some
more
advanced
state
of
society
,
my
dear
sir
,
do
you
think
we
should
be
any
happier
there
?
As
much
happier
,
I
suppose
,
as
you
or
I
should
be
if
we
were
translated
into
the
heaven
our
nurses
used
to
tell
us
of
,
where
nothing
was
done
but
to
sing
Tate
and
Brady’s
psalms
with
the
angels
to
all
eternity
.
The
air
of
our
own
age
is
the
only
air
fit
for
us
.
In
any
other
we
should
languish.’
‘I
languish
in
this
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
looking
up
to
the
ceiling
.
Scarcely
were
the
words
out
of
his
mouth
than
Mr.
Saunders
exclaimed
,
in
his
most
excited
and
shrillest
voice
,
‘I
deny
it
—
I
entirely
deny
it
!
’
Mr.
Luke
was
thunderstruck
.
Even
Mr.
Storks
was
taken
aback
by
the
audacity
of
the
contradiction
;
and
as
for
the
rest
of
the
company
,
they
could
not
conceive
where
on
earth
Mr.
Saunders
had
left
his
manners
.
Mr.
Storks
,
however
,
was
still
more
astonished
,
and
still
less
pleased
,
when
he
discovered
,
as
Mr.
Saunders
proceeded
,
what
was
the
real
meaning
of
his
speech
.
‘I
entirely
deny
,
’
Mr.
Saunders
went
on
,
‘that
the
ways
of
Nature
are
the
best
ways
.
The
belief
that
they
are
so
is
of
all
faiths
the
one
that
most
obviously
contradicts
experience
.
Did
I
accept
this
,
I
could
accept
anything
—
Transubstantiation
even
.
I
should
literally
feel
that
I
had
no
right
to
condemn
any
doctrine
because
it
was
groundless
,
gratuitous
,
and
absurd
.
This
faith
in
the
goodness
of
Nature
—
why
,
that
it
is
a
faith
,
is
not
that
enough
to
condemn
it
?
What
but
faith
,
let
me
ask
,
has
enslaved
and
stunted
the
world
hitherto
?
And
this
particular
faith
,
I
would
remind
you
,
which
you
flatter
yourself
will
oppose
religion
,
has
been
in
most
cases
its
child
,
and
is
always
ready
to
be
its
parent
.
I
on
the
contrary
maintain
that
,
far
from
being
the
best
,
Nature
is
the
most
odious
of
things
—
that
the
whole
universe
is
constructed
on
the
most
hateful
principles
;
in
fact
,
that
out
of
the
primordial
atoms
only
one
thing
has
developed
itself
in
which
the
good
outweighs
the
evil
;
and
that
is
the
one
thing
that
is
usually
opposed
to
Nature
—
man
,
and
the
reason
of
man.’
Mr.
Storks
turned
sharply
round
,
and
,
with
an
awful
look
in
his
eyes
of
contemptuous
indignation
,
stared
Mr.
Saunders
into
silence
.
He
held
him
fixed
in
this
way
for
a
few
moments
,
and
then
said
to
him
in
a
voice
of
grim
unconcern
,
‘May
I
trouble
you
for
the
mustard.’
Then
again
turning
to
Mr.
Luke
,
‘You
see
,
’
he
proceeded
,
‘what
I
take
to
be
civilisation
—
indeed
,
the
whole
duty
of
man
—
is
the
gradual
self-adaptation
of
the
human
organism
to
its
environment
—
an
adaptation
which
must
take
place
,
and
any
attempts
to
hinder
which
are
simply
neither
more
nor
less
than
disease
.
Progress
,
which
it
is
our
highest
life
to
further
,
is
a
thing
that
will
continue
despite
the
opposition
of
individuals
.
Its
tendencies
are
beyond
the
control
of
individuals
,
and
are
to
be
sought
in
the
spirit
of
the
age
at
large
,
—
not
—
if
you
will
forgive
me
the
word
—
in
the
crotchets
of
this
or
that
thinker
.
And
it
seems
to
me
to
be
the
hopeful
and
distinguishing
feature
of
the
present
day
,
that
men
are
learning
generally
to
recognise
this
truth
—
that
they
are
learning
not
to
cry
out
against
progress
,
but
to
investigate
its
grand
and
inevitable
laws
,
and
submit
themselves
willingly
to
them
.
And
the
tendency
of
our
own
day
is
,
I
am
proud
to
say
,
a
tendency
towards
firm
,
solid
,
verifiable
knowledge
,
and
as
a
result
of
this
,
towards
the
acquisition
of
a
firm
and
solid
happiness
also.’
‘To
me
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘it
seems
rather
that
the
only
hope
for
the
present
age
lies
in
the
possibility
of
some
individual
wiser
than
the
rest
getting
the
necessary
power
,
and
in
the
most
arbitrary
way
possible
putting
a
stop
to
this
progress
—
utterly
stamping
out
and
obliterating
every
general
tendency
peculiar
to
our
own
time
.
Mr.
Storks
will
perhaps
think
me
very
foolish
.
Perhaps
I
am
.
I
freely
own
that
I
could
more
easily
tell
a
good
action
,
if
I
saw
it
,
than
a
good
piece
of
protoplasm
,
and
that
I
think
the
understanding
of
a
holy
moral
law
,
by
which
an
individual
may
live
,
of
infinitely
more
importance
than
the
discovery
of
all
the
laws
of
progress
in
the
world
.
But
let
Mr.
Storks
despise
me
,
and
not
be
angry
with
me
—
’
‘My
dear
sir
,
’
interposed
Mr.
Storks
,
with
a
gruff
courtesy
,
‘why
should
I
do
either
the
one
or
the
other
?
’
‘Because
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
slightly
waving
his
hand
,
and
speaking
with
great
emphasis
,
‘had
I
only
the
power
,
I
would
myself
put
a
forcible
stop
to
all
this
evolution
.
I
would
make
a
clean
sweep
of
all
the
improvements
that
the
present
day
so
much
vaunts
.
I
would
collect
an
army
of
strong
,
serviceable
,
honest
workmen
,
and
send
them
to
blow
up
Manchester
,
and
Birmingham
,
and
Liverpool
,
and
Leeds
,
and
Wolverhampton
—
’
‘And
all
the
artisans
in
them
?
’
asked
Mr.
Storks
.
‘Well
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
smiling
,
‘I
would
,
perhaps
,
give
the
artisans
notice
of
this
gunpowder
plot
of
mine
.
And
yet
their
existence
has
always
presented
a
painful
difficulty
to
me
.
For
if
there
is
no
other
life
,
I
think
they
have
a
very
bad
time
of
it
here
;
and
if
there
is
another
life
,
I
think
that
they
will
all
certainly
be
damned
.
But
it
is
not
only
Manchester
and
Birmingham
that
I
would
blow
up
.
I
would
blow
up
also
every
anatomical
museum
in
the
land
,
save
such
as
were
absolutely
necessary
for
the
use
of
professional
doctors
,
that
the
foul
sights
in
them
should
not
taint
men’s
imaginations
,
and
give
them
an
appetite
for
beastly
knowledge
.
I
would
destroy
every
railway
,
and
nearly
every
steam-engine
;
and
I
would
do
a
number
of
other
things
of
a
like
sort
,
by
way
of
preparing
the
ground
for
a
better
state
of
society
.
Indeed
,
so
far
am
I
from
believing
that
an
entirely
different
and
better
state
of
society
is
unthinkable
,
that
I
believe
it
to
be
not
impracticable
;
and
I
am
at
the
present
moment
collecting
money
,
from
such
as
will
here
and
there
confide
in
me
,
for
the
purpose
of
purchasing
land
,
and
of
founding
a
community
upon
what
seem
to
me
to
be
true
and
healthful
principles
—
a
Utopia
,
in
fact
—
in
which
I
trust
may
be
once
again
realised
upon
earth
those
two
things
to
which
we
are
now
such
strangers
—
order
and
justice.’
‘I
once
began
a
book
about
justice
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘on
the
model
of
Plato’s
Republic.’
‘What
is
Plato’s
Republic
?
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘Tell
me.’
‘It
is
a
book
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘which
describes
the
meeting
of
a
party
of
friends
,
who
fell
discussing
high
topics
just
as
we
are
doing
,
and
,
amongst
others
,
What
is
justice
?
’
‘What
!
’
exclaimed
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘Did
not
they
know
that
?
’
‘You
forget
,
’
said
Laurence
,
’
that
this
was
very
long
ago.’
‘To
be
sure
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
;
‘and
they
were
of
course
all
heathens
.
Well
—
and
what
conclusions
did
they
come
to
as
to
the
nature
of
justice
?
’
‘At
first
,
’
said
Laurence
,
’
though
Socrates
himself
was
amongst
them
,
they
were
all
completely
at
a
loss
how
to
define
it
.
But
at
last
they
hit
upon
the
notion
of
constructing
an
ideal
perfect
state
,
in
which
of
course
justice
would
be
lurking
somewhere
.
Now
there
are
in
life
,
Plato
says
,
four
great
virtues
—
wisdom
,
courage
,
temperance
,
and
justice
;
and
no
sooner
has
the
ideal
state
been
constructed
,
than
it
appears
that
three
of
these
virtues
are
specially
illustrated
and
embodied
,
each
in
a
particular
class
of
citizens
.
Thus
,
wisdom
is
specially
embodied
in
the
theoretical
politicians
and
religious
speculators
of
the
day
;
courage
is
embodied
in
the
practical
men
who
maintain
and
execute
the
regulations
and
orders
of
the
philosophers
;
and
temperance
is
embodied
in
the
commercial
and
industrial
classes
,
who
loyally
submit
themselves
to
their
betters
,
and
refrain
from
meddling
in
matters
that
are
too
high
for
them
.
And
now
,
where
is
justice
?
In
what
class
is
that
embodied
specially
?
’
‘In
the
judges
and
the
magistrates
and
the
policemen
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘No
,
’
said
Laurence
;
‘it
is
peculiar
to
no
class
.
It
resides
in
all
.
It
is
that
virtue
which
enables
the
others
to
exist
and
to
continue.’
‘But
surely
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘all
that
is
not
what
we
mean
by
justice
now
?
’
‘Certainly
not
,
’
said
Laurence
;
‘and
my
book
was
designed
to
investigate
what
justice
is
,
as
it
exists
now
.
I
,
like
Plato
,
constructed
a
state
,
making
it
,
however
,
a
real
rather
than
an
ideal
picture
.
But
when
I
had
done
this
,
I
could
find
no
earnest
thinking
class
to
represent
wisdom
;
no
class
of
practical
politicians
that
would
carry
out
even
the
little
wisdom
they
knew
,
and
so
represent
courage
;
and
certainly
no
commercial
or
industrial
class
that
would
refrain
for
a
single
day
from
meddling
in
matters
that
were
too
high
for
them
,
and
so
represent
temperance
.
So
I
analysed
life
in
a
somewhat
different
way
.
I
divided
it
into
happiness
,
misery
,
and
justice
.
I
then
at
once
discovered
that
the
rich
represented
all
the
happiness
of
which
we
are
now
capable
,
and
the
poor
all
the
misery
;
and
that
justice
was
that
which
set
this
state
of
things
going
and
enabled
it
to
continue.’
‘Ah
,
Laurence
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Herbert
,
clapping
his
hands
gently
in
sad
applause
,
‘I
like
that
.
I
wish
you
had
worked
out
this
idea
more
fully.’
‘Suppose
,
’
exclaimed
Leslie
,
‘that
we
try
this
afternoon
to
construct
a
Utopia
ourselves
.
Let
us
embody
our
notions
of
life
as
it
ought
to
be
in
a
new
Republic.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘I
am
not
a
Conservative
;
I
don’t
object
.
I’m
sure
at
any
rate
that
there
is
much
we
could
all
of
us
alter
,
if
we
only
had
our
own
way.’
‘Much
,
’
said
Lady
Grace
,
with
severe
briskness
.
‘Much
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
with
a
soft
,
half-serious
smile
.
‘Much
,
’
said
Lord
Allen
,
catching
eagerly
at
the
idea
.
‘Well
,
then
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘let
us
all
do
our
best
to
give
those
airy
somethings
,
our
aspirations
,
a
local
habitation
and
a
name.’
The
majority
of
the
company
took
very
kindly
to
the
proposal
.
Lady
Grace
was
especially
pleased
,
as
it
seemed
to
provide
at
once
a
whole
afternoon’s
occupation
for
the
party
;
and
it
was
arranged
accordingly
that
as
soon
as
luncheon
was
over
they
should
adjourn
for
castle-building
to
a
shady
spot
in
the
garden
.
BOOK
II
.
CHAPTER
III
.
GUIDED
by
Lady
Grace
,
the
guests
gradually
converged
after
luncheon
towards
the
appointed
spot
,
straggling
thither
by
various
ways
,
and
in
desultory
groups
;
passing
down
broad
flights
of
steps
flanked
by
gods
and
goddesses
,
and
along
straight
terraces
set
with
vases
and
Irish
yews
;
while
busts
of
orators
,
poets
,
and
philosophers
,
with
Latin
inscriptions
,
glimmered
to
right
and
left
of
them
in
groves
of
laurels
;
and
scaly
Tritons
,
dappled
with
green
lichens
,
spouted
up
water
in
the
middle
of
gleaming
basins
.
Everything
was
today
looking
at
its
loveliest
.
There
was
an
unusual
freshness
in
the
warm
summer
air
.
Beyond
the
green
shrubs
the
sea
shone
bright
and
blue
;
and
through
the
shrubs
the
sea-breeze
moved
and
whispered
.
Laurence
strolled
slowly
on
behind
with
Miss
Merton
,
choosing
a
path
which
none
of
the
others
had
taken
.
‘How
delicious
this
is
!
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
lifting
her
hat
to
enjoy
the
breeze
upon
her
forehead
.
‘Nobody
could
be
in
bad
spirits
in
a
place
like
this
.
There
is
something
so
fresh
and
living
everywhere
,
and
even
when
we
lose
sight
of
the
sea
we
still
hear
it.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Laurence
.
‘I
believe
these
gardens
are
like
Keats’s
island
.
There
is
no
recess
in
them
Not
haunted
by
the
murmurous
sound
of
waves.’
‘And
how
perfectly
everything
is
kept
!
What
gardeners
you
must
have
!
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
as
they
turned
up
a
narrow
winding-walk
,
thickly
set
on
either
side
with
carefully-trimmed
laurels
.
The
whole
place
was
,
indeed
,
as
Miss
Merton
said
,
kept
perfectly
.
Not
a
weed
was
on
the
grey
gravel
;
not
a
single
twig
called
for
pruning
.
Every
vase
they
passed
was
full
of
the
most
delicious
flowers
.
Overhead
the
branches
of
limes
and
of
acacia-trees
murmured
gaily
.
Everything
seemed
to
be
free
from
care
,
and
to
be
laughing
,
light
of
heart
,
in
the
bright
weather
.
‘I
am
taking
you
this
way
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘because
I
want
to
show
you
what
I
think
may
perhaps
interest
you.’
As
he
spoke
these
words
,
a
sudden
bend
in
the
walk
brought
them
face
to
face
with
something
that
gave
Miss
Merton
a
sudden
sensation
of
surprise
.
It
was
a
small
classical
portico
built
in
a
style
of
the
most
severe
simplicity
,
through
which
by
an
iron
gate
one
passed
into
an
open
space
beyond
.
What
surprised
Miss
Merton
on
seeing
this
was
the
singular
sense
of
desolation
and
dreariness
that
seemed
all
at
once
to
come
over
her
.
The
iron
gates
before
her
were
a
mass
of
rust
;
the
portico
,
which
had
once
been
white
,
was
weather-stained
into
a
dismal
grey
;
the
stone
,
too
,
it
was
built
of
was
scaling
off
in
almost
every
place
,
and
the
fragments
lay
unheeded
as
they
had
fallen
upon
the
ground
.
Here
,
amongst
everything
that
spoke
of
the
utmost
care
,
was
one
object
that
spoke
of
entire
forgetfulness
and
neglect
.
They
approached
in
silence
,
and
Miss
Merton
looked
in
through
the
bars
of
the
rusty
gate
.
The
scene
that
met
her
eyes
was
one
of
greater
desolation
still
.
It
was
a
circular
plot
of
ground
,
fenced
round
by
a
low
stone
wall
that
was
surmounted
by
spiked
railings
.
It
looked
as
though
it
might
have
been
once
a
flower
garden
,
but
it
was
now
a
wilderness
.
Outside
its
boundary
rose
the
rare
and
beautiful
trees
of
the
happy
tended
shrubberies
.
Inside
were
nettles
,
brambles
,
and
long
weedy
grass
.
Nothing
else
was
visible
in
this
melancholy
enclosure
but
three
cypresses
,
apparently
of
various
ages
,
the
two
smaller
planted
near
together
,
the
third
,
and
by
far
the
largest
,
standing
apart
by
itself
.
Miss
Merton
was
quite
at
a
loss
what
to
make
of
the
strange
spot
;
and
,
as
Laurence
was
feeling
in
his
pocket
for
the
key
,
she
asked
him
if
it
had
anything
to
do
with
breeding
pheasants
.
‘Do
you
see
what
is
written
above
the
gate
?
’
said
Laurence
,
as
he
pointed
to
a
dim
inscription
whose
letters
still
retained
a
glimmer
of
fading
gold
;
‘can
you
read
it
?
Neque
harum
,
quas
colis
,
arborum
Te
,
præter
invisam
cupressum
,
“
Of
all
these
trees
which
you
love
so
,
the
hated
cypress
only
shall
follow
its
master
,
and
be
faithful
to
him
in
his
narrow
house
.
”
But
come
—
let
us
go
inside
,
if
you
are
not
afraid
of
the
long
grass.’
They
passed
through
the
gate
,
which
gave
a
low
wail
upon
its
hinges
,
and
Miss
Merton
followed
Laurence
,
knee-deep
in
grass
and
nettles
,
to
the
smallest
of
the
three
cypress-trees
.
There
Laurence
paused
.
At
the
foot
of
the
tree
Miss
Merton
saw
a
flat
slab
of
marble
,
with
something
written
upon
it
;
and
for
the
first
time
she
felt
certain
that
she
must
be
in
a
place
of
graves
.
‘This
,
’
said
Laurence
,
pointing
to
the
little
cypress
,
‘was
planted
only
five
years
ago
,
ten
clays
before
the
poor
old
man
died
who
now
sleeps
under
it
.
This
is
my
uncle’s
grave
.
Do
you
see
the
inscription
?
Omnis
moriar
,
nullaque
pars
mei
“
I
shall
wholly
die
,
and
there
is
no
part
of
me
that
will
escape
the
Venus
of
death
.
”
That
,
and
that
alone
,
he
chose
to
have
written
over
him.’
Laurence
spoke
with
some
feeling
,
but
Miss
Merton
was
so
much
surprised
that
she
hardly
knew
what
response
to
make
.
‘And
does
nobody
take
any
care
of
this
place
?
’
at
last
she
said
.
‘No
,
’
said
Laurence
.
‘By
his
own
last
orders
,
nobody
.
But
come
—
you
must
look
at
this
too.’
And
he
motioned
her
towards
the
neighbouring
cypress
.
At
the
foot
of
this
,
almost
hidden
by
the
long
grass
,
Miss
Merton
saw
something
that
surprised
her
still
more
strangely
.
It
was
the
statue
of
a
woman
half
reclining
in
a
languid
attitude
on
a
block
of
hewn
marble
.
The
figure
was
full
and
beautiful
,
and
the
features
of
the
face
were
singularly
fine
;
but
there
was
something
in
the
general
effect
that
struck
one
at
the
first
moment
as
not
pleasing
.
What
slight
drapery
there
was
,
was
disposed
meretriciously
over
the
rounded
limbs
;
on
the
arms
were
heavy
bracelets
;
one
of
the
hands
held
a
half-inverted
wine-cup
,
and
the
other
was
laid
negligently
on
a
heap
of
coins
.
But
what
jarred
most
upon
the
feelings
was
the
face
,
with
its
perfect
features
.
For
a
cold
sneer
was
fixed
upon
the
full
mouth
and
the
fine
nostrils
;
and
the
eyes
,
with
a
leer
of
petulant
sensuality
,
seemed
to
be
fixed
for
ever
upon
the
flat
neighbouring
gravestone
.
‘This
cypress
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘is
much
older
than
the
other
.
It
was
planted
twenty
years
ago
;
and
twenty
years
ago
the
original
of
that
statue
was
laid
beneath
it
.
She
was
one
of
those
many
nameless
ladies
—
for
,
as
you
know
,
he
completely
exiled
himself
from
society
all
the
latter
part
of
his
life
—
who
from
time
to
time
shared
his
fortunes
at
the
house
here
.
She
was
,
too
,
by
far
the
loveliest
.
She
was
at
the
same
time
the
hardest
,
the
most
selfish
,
the
most
mercenary
as
well
.
And
he
knew
it
too
.
In
spite
of
the
distraction
he
found
in
her
companionship
,
he
was
never
for
a
moment
deceived
about
her
.
At
last
,
having
made
a
fortune
out
of
him
,
she
was
thinking
of
leaving
him
.
But
one
day
,
suddenly
,
she
caught
a
chill
and
died
.
She
died
here
,
and
here
she
was
buried
.
That
statue
,
as
you
may
imagine
,
is
his
design
not
hers
.
The
attitude
,
the
drapery
,
the
wine-cup
held
in
one
hand
,
and
the
money
in
the
other
,
are
according
to
his
express
direction
;
and
by
his
direction
,
too
,
that
face
,
with
its
lovely
features
,
leers
and
sneers
at
him
for
ever
,
as
he
rests
in
his
neglected
grave
.
See
,
too
,
there
is
the
epitaph
which
he
chose
for
her
:
—
Lusisti
satis
,
edisti
satis
,
atque
bibisti
;
“
You
have
wantoned
enough
with
me
—
you
have
eaten
enough
of
my
substance
—
you
have
drunk
enough
of
my
champagne
;
’tis
high
time
for
you
to
go
.
”
And
now
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘let
us
come
to
the
third
tree
,
and
you
shall
see
what
is
overshadowed
by
it.’
They
passed
across
the
enclosure
to
the
largest
of
the
three
cypresses
,
and
at
the
foot
of
that
Miss
Merton
discovered
a
third
gravestone
,
also
with
a
poetical
inscription
.
‘That
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘you
can
read
without
help
of
mine.’
Miss
Merton
looked
;
and
the
lines
were
not
new
to
her
:
—
A
slumber
did
my
spirit
seal
,
I
knew
no
mortal
fears
.
She
seemed
a
thing
that
could
not
feel
The
touch
of
earthly
years
.
She
knows
no
motion
now
,
nor
force
,
She
neither
feels
nor
sees
,
Rolled
round
in
earth’s
diurnal
course
‘Here
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘is
the
oldest
grave
of
all
.
Its
date
is
that
of
the
tree
that
stands
beside
it
,
and
that
was
planted
forty
years
ago
.
Under
that
stone
lies
the
only
woman
—
except
myself
,
almost
the
only
thing
—
that
the
old
man
ever
really
loved
.
This
was
in
his
young
days
.
He
was
only
thirty
when
she
died
;
and
her
death
was
the
great
turning-point
of
his
life
.
She
lived
with
him
for
two
years
,
in
a
little
cottage
that
stood
on
the
very
spot
where
he
afterwards
built
the
villa
.
She
has
no
name
,
you
see
,
on
the
grave-stone
,
and
I
had
best
not
give
her
any
.
She
was
some
one’s
wife
,
but
not
his
.
That
is
her
story
.
I
have
her
miniature
somewhere
,
which
one
day
I
should
like
to
show
you
.
It
is
a
lovely
dark
face
,
with
liquid
,
spiritual
eyes
,
and
under
it
are
written
two
lines
of
Byron’s
,
which
might
have
been
composed
for
her
:
—
She
walks
in
beauty
like
the
night
Well
,
there
she
lies
now
;
and
the
old
man’s
youth
lies
buried
with
her
.
It
was
her
death
that
made
him
a
philosopher
.
He
built
this
great
place
here
,
and
laid
out
these
gardens
half
to
kill
his
grief
for
her
,
and
half
to
keep
alive
her
memory
;
and
here
,
as
you
see
,
he
buried
her
.
She
gave
up
all
that
was
best
in
her
for
the
love
of
him
.
He
gave
up
all
that
was
best
in
him
for
the
loss
of
her.’
‘And
is
this
place
left
quite
uncared
for
?
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
looking
around
her
.
‘It
is
left
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘as
he
wished
it
should
be
.
It
was
one
of
his
most
special
orders
that
,
when
he
was
dead
and
buried
,
no
further
care
of
any
kind
should
be
spent
on
it
.
The
grass
and
weeds
were
to
be
left
to
grow
wild
in
it
,
the
rails
to
rust
,
the
portico
to
decay
and
crumble
.
“
Do
you
think
,
”
he
said
to
me
,
“
that
I
know
so
little
of
life
as
to
flatter
myself
that
any
single
creature
will
regret
me
when
I
am
gone
,
or
even
waste
a
thought
upon
me
?
I
do
not
chose
,
as
Christians
do
,
to
rest
for
ever
under
a
lie
;
for
their
tombs
are
lying
monuments
that
they
are
remembered
;
mine
shall
be
a
true
one
that
I
am
forgotten
.
Yes
,
”
he
said
,
“
it
makes
me
laugh
to
think
of
myself
—
me
,
who
have
built
this
house
and
planted
these
gardens
which
others
will
enjoy
—
rotting
in
the
midst
of
it
all
.
under
thorns
and
brambles
,
in
a
little
dismal
wilderness
.
And
then
perhaps
,
Otho
,
”
he
would
say
to
me
,
“
some
of
your
friends
who
will
walk
about
these
gardens
in
a
year
or
two
—
Christians
,
no
doubt
,
with
the
devil
knows
what
of
fine
sentiments
about
faith
and
immortality
—
will
look
in
through
the
bars
of
the
gate
,
and
be
shocked
at
that
honest
wilderness
,
that
unconcealed
neglect
,
which
is
the
only
real
portion
of
those
that
have
been
.
”
But
during
his
last
illness
he
softened
just
a
little
,
and
admitted
that
I
,
he
did
believe
,
cared
for
him
,
and
might
,
when
he
was
dead
,
every
now
and
then
think
of
him
.
“
And
so
,
”
he
said
,
“
if
you
like
to
do
it
,
come
every
now
and
then
,
and
scrape
the
moss
from
my
inscription
,
and
from
the
two
others
.
But
that
is
all
I
will
have
you
do
—
that
,
and
nothing
more
.
That
will
express
all
that
it
is
possible
that
you
should
feel
for
me
.
”
I
promised
him
to
do
no
more
than
that
,
and
that
I
do
.
Poor
old
man
!
’
Laurence
went
on
meditatively
,
as
they
passed
out
of
the
gates
,
and
were
again
in
the
bright
trim
garden
.
‘He
thought
that
he
belonged
to
times
before
his
own
;
but
I
think
that
in
reality
he
belonged
to
times
after
them
.
If
he
was
Roman
at
all
,
as
he
always
fancied
himself
,
he
was
Roman
only
in
that
sombre
ennui
that
through
all
his
later
years
oppressed
him
;
and
which
seems
to
me
to
be
now
settling
down
upon
the
world
—
an
ennui
that
always
kept
him
seeking
for
pleasures
,
and
that
turned
the
pleasures
into
ashes
as
soon
as
he
possessed
them
.
His
pleasures
were
high
and
low
;
but
the
higher
made
him
despise
the
lower
;
and
the
lower
he
sought
simply
that
he
might
drown
the
higher
.
Two
things
only
during
his
last
years
never
palled
upon
him
:
one
was
,
saying
a
sharp
thing
neatly
;
the
other
,
detecting
some
new
weakness
in
human
nature
.
In
this
he
seemed
really
to
revel
.
On
the
littlenesses
and
the
pretences
of
men
,
especially
when
they
turned
out
failures
,
he
seemed
to
look
with
a
passionate
contemptuous
fondness
,
like
a
wicked
prince
on
a
peasant-girl
.
See
—
here
was
his
summer
study
—
this
stone
pavilion
.
Let
us
go
in
for
a
moment
,
and
I
will
show
it
to
you.’
They
were
in
front
of
a
small
quasi-classical
building
of
white
marble
,
embowered
behind
in
arbutus
and
in
myrtles
,
and
commanding
from
its
large
windows
a
full
view
of
the
sea
.
Laurence
unlocked
the
door
,
and
he
and
Miss
Merton
entered
.
Inside
there
was
a
faint
musty
smell
,
and
a
general
sense
that
the
place
had
been
long
disused
.
The
walls
were
completely
lined
with
books
in
splendid
bindings
,
whose
gilded
backs
glimmered
temptingly
through
the
network
of
the
bookcase
doors
.
In
the
centre
stood
a
table
,
covered
with
a
cloth
of
faded
crimson
velvet
;
nothing
on
it
but
a
tarnished
ormolu
inkstand
,
in
the
shape
of
a
Roman
temple
,
across
the
columns
of
which
spiders
had
woven
dusty
webs
.
Placed
stiffly
before
the
table
stood
a
gilded
arm-chair
,
with
cushions
of
crimson
damask
,
and
under
it
a
foot-stool
to
match
,
which
had
been
worn
quite
bare
by
the
old
philosopher’s
feet
.
‘Here
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘he
would
sit
day
after
day
amongst
his
books
,
drawing
,
or
reading
,
or
writing
,
or
looking
out
at
his
flowers
or
at
the
sea
.
Look
!
these
two
folios
,
bound
in
red
morocco
,
are
a
collection
of
his
verses
,
letters
,
essays
and
so
on
,
that
he
had
had
privately
printed
.
They
are
not
all
,
I’m
afraid
,
quite
fit
to
read
.
But
this
first
volume
is
all
right
.
I
should
like
to
take
it
out
and
show
it
to
you
by-and-by
.
But
come
—
I
have
nothing
more
to
exhibit
now
.
We
had
better
join
the
others
.
They
will
not
be
far
off
,
’
he
said
,
as
they
left
the
pavilion
;
‘indeed
,
I
think
I
can
hear
them
talking.’
In
another
moment
they
had
passed
through
an
arch
of
evergreens
,
and
found
themselves
on
the
spot
where
nearly
all
the
rest
of
the
party
had
already
assembled
,
disposed
in
an
easy
group
upon
the
grass
.
The
place
was
an
amphitheatre
of
velvet
turf
,
set
round
with
laurels
and
all
kinds
of
shrubs
;
in
the
arena
of
which
—
if
one
may
so
speak
—
a
little
fountain
splashed
cool
and
restless
in
a
porphyry
basin
.
Overhead
the
blue
summer
sky
was
screened
by
the
whispering
shade
of
tall
trees
;
and
above
the
dark
laurel-leaves
the
fresh
sea
was
seen
in
the
distance
,
an
azure
haze
full
of
sparklings
.
The
whole
scene
,
as
Miss
Merton
and
Laurence
,
with
his
gorgeous
folio
under
his
arm
,
came
upon
it
,
was
curiously
picturesque
.
The
various
dresses
made
against
the
green
turf
a
soft
medley
of
colours
.
The
ladies
were
in
white
and
black
and
pale
yellow
,
green
and
crimson
and
dove-colour
.
All
the
men
,
except
Mr.
Luke
,
were
in
shooting
coats
;
and
Mr.
Saunders
,
who
wore
knickerbockers
,
had
even
pink
stockings
.
And
here
,
as
the
lights
and
shades
flickered
over
them
,
and
the
gentle
air
breathed
upon
them
,
they
seemed
altogether
like
a
party
from
which
an
imaginative
on-looker
might
have
expected
a
new
Decameron
.
Already
,
under
Lady
Grace’s
vigorous
guidance
,
a
certain
amount
of
talk
had
begun
àpropos
of
the
new
Republic
;
all
the
ladies
,
with
the
exception
of
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
having
fallen
to
discussing
the
true
position
of
women
,
or
rather
of
woman
,
and
their
opinions
on
this
point
being
a
little
various
.
But
besides
this
,
the
post
had
arrived
;
and
that
too
had
created
some
excitement
.
Lady
Ambrose
in
particular
had
become
delightfully
radiant
,
on
receiving
a
large
envelope
that
was
stiff
as
she
handled
it
;
and
which
she
saw
contained
,
as
she
just
peeped
into
it
,
a
card
,
on
the
top
of
which
was
printed
,
‘To
have
the
honour
to
meet
—
.’
She
had
,
too
,
just
extracted
from
Lord
Allen
a
promise
to
come
and
stay
with
her
,
next
autumn
,
in
the
country
;
and
her
measure
of
good
spirits
was
quite
full
.
‘Now
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
’
she
exclaimed
,
dangling
her
hat
in
her
hand
,
‘do
come
and
put
a
stop
to
this
.
You
see
what
a
woman’s
parliament
would
be
if
we
ever
have
one
,
which
my
husband
says
is
not
at
all
impossible
.
Here
is
one
of
us
who
thinks
that
everything
will
go
well
if
women
can
only
learn
to
paint
flowers
on
white
dessert
plates
,
and
get
fifteen
shillings
apiece
for
them.’
‘And
I
,
’
said
Lady
Grace
,
smiling
good-naturedly
,
‘was
just
saying
that
they
all
ought
to
be
taught
logic.’
‘Perfectly
true
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Saunders
,
putting
up
his
spectacles
to
see
who
had
spoken
.
‘And
Miss
Merton
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘thinks
that
we
should
all
be
taught
to
walk
the
hospitals
,
or
be
sick-nurses.’
‘I
should
not
so
much
mind
that
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
‘in
war
time
,
if
one
had
anyone
fighting
in
whose
life
one
really
took
an
interest
.
I
once
thought
,
Mr.
Leslie
,
that
that
might
be
my
mission
,
perhaps.’
‘But
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘how
are
we
to
build
a
castle
in
the
air
together
,
if
we
are
all
at
cross
purposes
like
this
?
’
There
did
indeed
seem
little
prospect
of
their
getting
to
work
at
all
;
until
Leslie
exclaimed
at
last
that
he
thought
he
had
found
a
way
.
‘See
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
‘I
told
you
a
little
while
ago
you
would
be
wanted
to
talk
cleverly
.
And
now
,
Mr.
Leslie
,
don’t
you
think
you
would
be
more
comfortable
if
you
sat
a
little
farther
off
?
or
Lady
Grace
,
of
whom
I
am
already
afraid
,
will
begin
to
think
we’re
flirting.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘in
spite
of
all
our
differences
,
I
think
I
see
a
way
in
which
we
shall
all
be
able
to
set
to
work
together
.
We
want
to
imagine
a
state
that
shall
be
as
nearly
perfect
as
we
can
make
it
.
Well
and
good
.
Now
,
we
shall
all
admit
,
I
suppose
,
that
in
a
perfect
state
all
the
parts
will
be
perfect
,
and
each
part
will
imply
and
involve
all
the
others
.
Given
one
bone
,
we
shall
be
able
to
construct
the
entire
animal
.
Let
us
then
take
one
part
,
and
imagine
that
first
.
Let
us
take
the
highest
class
in
our
state
,
and
see
what
we
think
that
ought
to
be
,
looking
on
it
in
the
first
place
not
as
a
corporate
body
of
superiors
,
but
as
an
assembly
of
equals
.
Let
us
,
I
mean
,
to
put
it
in
other
words
,
begin
with
seeing
what
we
really
wish
society
to
be
—
what
we
really
think
that
the
highest
and
most
refined
life
consists
in
,
that
is
possible
for
the
most
favoured
classes
;
and
then
let
us
see
afterwards
what
is
implied
in
this.’
Leslie’s
proposal
was
welcomed
eagerly
by
everyone
.
‘Well
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘and
so
we
are
each
of
us
to
say
,
are
we
,
what
we
think
is
the
essence
of
good
society
?
Come
then
,
who
knows
?
’
‘Art
,
’
murmured
Mr.
Rose
.
‘Reason
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
.
‘Unworldliness
,
based
on
knowledge
of
the
world
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
.
‘Wait
a
moment
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘we
are
going
too
fast
.
This
is
not
what
Mr.
Leslie
means.’
‘No
,
no
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
.
‘Let
us
get
rid
of
what
is
evil
before
we
introduce
what
is
good
.
I
should
begin
by
getting
rid
of
every
belief
that
is
not
based
upon
reason
,
and
every
sentiment
whose
existence
cannot
be
accounted
for.’
‘Here
we
are
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘all
over
the
place
.
Now
if
I
might
be
allowed
to
say
what
I
thought
was
the
essence
of
good
society
,
I
should
say
that
a
great
part
of
it
,
at
least
,
was
the
absence
of
dull
and
vulgar
people.’
‘Excellent
!
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Luke
,
‘and
a
capital
exclusion
with
which
to
begin
our
new
Republic.’
BOOK
III
.
CHAPTER
I
.
‘YES
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
still
more
solemnly
,
‘if
we
only
follow
this
out
—
this
idea
of
the
exclusion
from
our
society
of
all
vulgar
and
extraneous
elements
,
we
shall
find
we
have
done
a
great
deal
more
than
we
may
at
first
think
.
We
shall
have
at
once
a
free
,
and
liberal
,
and
untainted
social
and
intellectual
atmosphere
,
in
which
our
thoughts
,
and
feelings
,
and
refinements
,
and
ways
of
living
,
may
develop
themselves
to
the
utmost
,
unimpeded
.
Lady
Ambrose
has
certainly
begun
with
hitting
the
right
nail
on
the
head.’
Could
Lady
Ambrose
have
been
told
,
when
she
left
London
the
afternoon
before
,
that
in
another
twenty-four
hours
she
would
be
taking
the
lead
in
the
construction
of
a
Utopia
,
or
ideal
state
of
society
,
suggested
by
the
writings
of
a
Greek
philosopher
,
she
would
have
been
utterly
at
a
loss
to
know
what
the
prophecy
meant
;
and
had
she
known
what
it
meant
,
she
would
certainly
not
have
believed
it
.
Indeed
,
as
it
was
,
she
could
hardly
imagine
that
Mr.
Luke
was
serious
,
and
that
he
was
not
laughing
at
her
;
so
she
said
quickly
and
in
a
tone
of
self-defence
,
‘Of
course
I
know
that
there
must
be
something
more
than
the
mere
exclusion
of
vulgar
people
,
Mr.
Luke
.
We
must
have
religion
,
and
all
that
,
and
—
’
‘Ah
!
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Luke
,
interrupting
her
with
a
grand
wave
of
the
hand
;
‘my
dear
Lady
Ambrose
,
let
us
leave
all
that
till
by-and-by
.
Let
us
be
content
to
begin
with
simpler
matters
first.’
‘Let
us
begin
with
the
flowers
of
life
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘and
when
we
have
chosen
these
,
let
us
trace
them
back
to
their
roots.’
‘I
quite
think
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘that
in
a
really
good
society
—
one
that
was
perfectly
good
even
in
the
superficial
sense
of
the
word
—
we
should
find
,
if
we
only
had
eyes
enough
,
religion
lurking
somewhere
,
and
everything
else
we
want.’
‘And
so
that’s
your
view
,
my
dear
,
is
it
?
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘Oh
,
then
,
I
suppose
since
you
,
a
Roman
Catholic
,
think
so
,
I
may
also.’
‘Surely
,
too
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘we
must
all
know
that
nothing
can
be
so
bad
,
either
for
the
pushers
or
the
pushed
,
as
the
struggle
of
people
to
get
into
what
they
think
is
good
society
,
not
in
the
least
because
they
care
to
be
there
,
but
merely
because
they
care
to
be
known
to
be
there.’
Lady
Ambrose
,
who
perhaps
felt
unconsciously
some
small
pricks
of
conscience
here
,
again
looked
doubtful
,
and
said
,
‘Still
,
if
we
really
want
to
make
a
perfect
state
,
this
does
not
seem
a
very
serious
thing
to
begin
with.’
‘Listen
,
’
exclaimed
Laurence
;
‘let
me
read
you
something
I
have
here
—
something
of
my
uncle’s
,
which
I
have
just
thought
of
.
It
is
a
short
adaptation
of
Aristotle’s
Ethics
.’
Lady
Ambrose
started
.
Hearing
two
words
,
the
one
as
long
as
Aristotle
,
and
the
other
as
unfamiliar
as
Ethics
,
she
began
to
think
that
she
had
made
the
conversation
serious
with
a
vengeance
.
Indeed
,
the
whole
party
,
as
well
as
herself
,
showed
some
signs
of
surprise
.
‘It
is
very
short
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘and
I
will
only
read
a
page
or
two
.
It
is
called
“
A
system
of
Ethics
,
adapted
from
Aristotle
,
for
the
use
of
the
English
Nation
.
”
It
was
suggested
to
him
—
’
(
and
this
bewildered
Lady
Ambrose
still
more
,
though
at
the
same
time
it
gave
her
some
gleam
of
hope
)
,
‘by
a
very
rich
vulgar
family
,
who
bought
a
place
near
here
,
and
who
much
annoyed
and
amazed
him
by
the
great
court
they
paid
to
him
.
This
is
the
first
chapter
;
it
treats
of
“
The
Summum
Bonum
,
or
The
Moral
End
of
Action
.
”
Listen
—
‘Ethics
being
the
art
and
science
of
human
action
,
as
directed
towards
the
chief
good
of
life
—
that
highest
and
final
end
,
to
which
,
if
we
think
a
little
,
we
shall
see
all
other
ends
are
subordinate
;
it
is
evident
that
our
first
task
must
be
,
as
our
master
Aristotle
well
says
,
to
form
a
clear
conception
of
what
this
end
,
the
chief
good
,
is
.
‘Now
on
this
point
Aristotle
would
seem
to
err
.
For
he
,
following
the
common
opinion
of
men
,
affirms
the
chief
good
to
be
happiness
,
holding
the
only
question
to
be
,
in
what
does
true
happiness
lie
?
And
if
he
had
been
philosophising
for
savages
,
he
would
indeed
have
been
in
the
right
.
But
because
savages
and
men
in
a
state
of
nature
have
all
one
end
of
action
,
which
is
happiness
,
it
by
no
means
follows
that
the
same
is
true
of
civilised
nations
,
and
that
these
may
not
have
ends
that
are
far
higher
.
It
is
indeed
evident
tliat
they
have
.
And
not
this
only
,
but
that
of
such
ends
there
is
a
very
great
variety
.
To
describe
and
number
these
with
anything
like
absolute
accuracy
is
neither
required
nor
admitted
by
the
nature
of
the
subject
.
But
we
shall
be
sufficiently
near
the
truth
if
we
say
that
there
is
a
separate
and
characteristic
chief
good
for
each
civilised
nation
—
(
quot
gentes
tot
summa
bona
)
—
and
that
it
is
by
this
in
each
case
that
the
national
character
is
determined
.
A
glance
at
the
continent
of
Europe
will
at
once
illustrate
this
,
and
suggest
examples
to
us
of
these
national
chief
goods
.
We
shall
see
the
Germans
,
for
instance
,
following
what
is
called
Thought
to
its
inmost
recesses
,
the
French
what
is
called
Life
.
We
shall
find
accordingly
that
the
chief
good
of
the
former
nation
,
which
is
perhaps
the
highest
of
all
,
is
the
knowledge
of
the
unknowable
;
whilst
that
of
the
latter
,
which
is
next
to
it
in
dignity
,
is
the
practice
of
the
unmentionable
.
And
so
on
with
all
the
other
nations
;
each
will
be
found
to
have
its
separate
chief
good
;
and
none
of
these
to
have
the
least
connection
with
happiness
.
For
us
,
however
,
who
are
English
,
and
writing
for
English
readers
,
it
will
be
enough
to
concern
ourselves
simply
with
the
chief
good
of
the
English
.
‘We
shall
discover
this
,
in
the
same
way
as
we
did
that
of
the
French
and
Germans
,
in
an
examination
of
our
own
special
national
characteristic
.
First
,
however
,
we
must
be
clear
what
this
characteristic
is
;
and
here
it
will
be
well
to
take
our
neighbours’
opinions
of
us
as
well
as
our
own
.
If
we
inquire
then
in
what
light
we
present
ourselves
to
the
other
European
nations
,
we
shall
find
that
just
as
the
Germans
are
known
mainly
as
a
profound
nation
,
and
the
French
as
a
prurient
nation
,
so
are
we
,
in
like
manner
,
now
known
as
a
vulgar
nation
.
And
as
this
view
of
us
exactly
tallies
with
our
own
,
it
appears
evident
that
the
special
national
characteristic
of
the
English
is
vulgarity
,
and
that
the
chief
good
of
the
English
is
the
final
end
that
is
aimed
at
by
the
English
vulgar
classes
.
‘This
we
affirm
to
be
social
distinction
,
to
their
admiration
and
pursuit
of
which
is
due
that
cardinal
moral
quality
which
they
call
worldliness
in
themselves
,
and
snobbishness
in
their
friends
and
enemies
.
And
if
any
object
that
to
a
great
part
of
the
nation
social
distinction
in
its
true
sense
is
a
thing
unknown
,
and
that
to
another
part
it
is
a
thing
that
comes
without
being
struggled
for
,
and
so
in
neither
case
can
be
the
end
of
moral
action
,
we
shall
answer
them
that
to
object
this
,
is
much
the
same
as
to
argue
that
a
peach-tree
does
not
bear
peaches
because
none
are
to
be
seen
growing
out
of
the
roots
;
or
that
there
is
no
meaning
in
the
Athanasian
Creed
because
none
is
attached
to
it
by
the
only
people
who
use
it
;
or
that
there
is
no
meaning
in
the
dogma
of
the
Pope
's
infallibility
because
its
only
possible
meaning
is
repudiated
by
all
those
who
defend
it
.
For
nothing
will
be
found
unless
we
seek
it
in
its
right
place
.
And
for
the
ethics
of
a
nation
we
must
look
only
in
that
part
of
the
nation
which
is
their
proper
sphere
;
and
that
part
is
,
as
we
have
already
shown
,
the
vulgar
part
.
And
should
any
still
imagine
that
if
we
thus
limit
the
scope
of
our
observation
,
we
shall
not
be
able
to
treat
the
subject
exhaustively
,
we
shall
remind
him
that
the
vulgar
classes
,
though
not
yet
co-extensive
with
the
nation
,
are
still
rapidly
becoming
so
,
vulgarity
ascending
and
descending
with
equal
certainty
;
since
on
the
one
hand
it
ruins
all
society
into
which
it
contrives
to
enter
;
whilst
it
thrives
itself
,
on
the
other
hand
,
on
all
society
that
contrives
to
enter
into
it
.
To
it
therefore
our
whole
study
may
be
confined
.
Nor
lastly
(
for
it
is
well
to
anticipate
every
possible
objection
)
,
is
there
any
need
that
even
thus
we
should
study
those
classes
that
naturally
possess
social
distinction
,
that
we
may
so
learn
in
what
its
real
essence
consists
;
since
,
if
we
do
but
observe
facts
,
we
shall
see
that
ignorance
of
the
whole
inner
nature
of
good
society
is
the
chief
characteristic
of
those
who
with
most
single-heartedness
direct
their
lives
towards
getting
into
it
.
It
will
be
enough
then
,
without
any
further
explanation
,
to
lay
it
down
that
social
distinction
is
the
chief
good
,
and
the
end
of
all
moral
action
;
nor
can
the
Aristotelians
say
that
this
is
in
reality
a
mediate
end
,
and
sought
for
only
because
it
leads
to
happiness
;
since
so
far
are
men
from
seeking
social
distinction
for
the
sake
of
happiness
,
that
they
are
perpetually
renouncing
happiness
for
the
sake
of
social
distinction.’
‘Capital
,
Mr.
Laurence
!
’
exclaimed
Lady
Ambrose
,
breaking
into
a
low
silvery
laugh
,
as
soon
as
Laurence
had
ended
.
‘And
how
true
that
is
about
those
people
who
really
ruin
the
society
into
which
they
contrive
to
push
themselves
!
’
Lord
Allen
,
who
caught
Miss
Merton’s
eye
at
this
moment
,
gave
a
very
faint
smile
.
‘So
you
see
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘that
you
were
quite
right
,
Lady
Ambrose
,
by
instinctively
beginning
with
exclusion.’
‘Still
,
’
said
Allen
,
‘I’m
afraid
that
all
this
is
rather
selfish
.
These
people
who
want
to
to
be
so
smart
,
are
,
I
dare
say
,
not
much
the
worse
because
of
it
.
Indeed
,
myself
,
I
rather
like
a
good
snob
now
and
then.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘let
me
read
a
few
more
paragraphs
,
and
you
will
see
.
‘Such
being
the
end
,
’
he
goes
on
,
‘of
all
moral
action
,
virtue
or
morality
is
that
state
of
mind
which
desires
this
end
;
and
virtuous
or
moral
acts
are
those
which
help
us
on
towards
it
,
provided
only
that
they
are
done
with
purpose
.
For
acts
done
not
with
purpose
,
but
by
chance
,
are
not
to
be
held
moral
.
Now
the
nature
of
purpose
is
well
explained
by
Aristotle
,
when
he
says
that
its
object
is
all
such
voluntary
action
as
is
the
result
of
deliberation
.
And
what
then
is
the
object
of
deliberation
?
Let
us
consider
that
:
for
men
,
it
is
evident
,
do
