itself—
in
God
and
a
spiritual
order
—
had
been
so
wrought
into
the
nature
by
years
of
reverent
and
adoring
living
that
nothing
could
destroy
it
.
With
Elsmere
,
as
with
all
men
of
religious
temperament
,
belief
in
Christianity
and
faith
in
God
had
not
at
the
outset
been
a
matter
of
reasoning
at
all
,
but
of
sympathy
,
feeling
,
association
,
daily
experience
.
Then
the
intellect
had
broken
in
,
and
destroyed
or
transformed
the
belief
in
Christianity
.
But
after
the
crash
,
faith
emerged
as
strong
as
ever
,
only
craving
and
eager
to
make
a
fresh
peace
,
a
fresh
compact
with
the
reason
.
Elsmere
had
heard
Grey
say
long
ago
in
one
of
the
few
moments
of
real
intimacy
he
had
enjoyed
with
him
at
Oxford
,
'
My
interest
in
philosophy
springs
solely
from
the
chance
it
offers
me
of
knowing
something
more
of
God
!
'
Driven
by
the
same
thirst
he
too
threw
himself
into
the
same
quest
,
pushing
his
way
laboriously
through
the
philosophical
borderlands
of
science
,
through
the
ethical
speculation
of
the
day
,
through
the
history
of
man
's
moral
and
religious
past
.
And
while
on
the
one
hand
the
intellect
was
able
to
contribute
an
ever
stronger
support
to
the
faith
which
was
the
man
,
on
the
other
the
sphere
in
him
of
a
patient
ignorance
which
abstains
from
all
attempts
at
knowing
what
man
cannot
know
,
and
substitutes
trust
for
either
knowledge
or
despair
,
was
perpetually
widening
.
'
I
take
my
stand
on
conscience
and
the
moral
life
!
'
was
the
upshot
of
it
all
.
'
In
them
I
find
my
God
!
As
for
all
these
various
problems
,
ethical
and
scientific
,
which
you
press
upon
me
,
my
pessimist
friend
,
I
,
too
,
am
bewildered
;
I
,
too
,
have
no
explanation
to
offer
.
But
I
trust
and
wait
.
In
spite
of
them
—
beyond
them
—
I
have
abundantly
enough
for
faith
—
for
hope
—
for
action
!
'
We
may
quote
a
passage
or
two
from
some
letters
of
his
written
at
this
time
to
that
young
Armitstead
who
had
taken
his
place
at
Murewell
,
and
was
still
there
till
Mowbray
Elsmere
should
appoint
a
new
man
.
Armitstead
had
been
a
college
friend
of
Elsmere
's
.
He
was
a
High
Churchman
of
a
singularly
gentle
and
delicate
type
,
and
the
manner
in
which
he
had
received
Elsmere
's
story
on
the
day
of
his
arrival
at
Murewell
had
permanently
endeared
him
to
the
teller
of
it
.
At
the
same
time
the
defection
from
Christianity
of
a
man
who
at
Oxford
had
been
to
him
the
object
of
much
hero-worship
,
and
,
since
Oxford
,
an
example
of
pastoral
efficiency
,
had
painfully
affected
young
Armitstead
,
and
he
began
a
correspondence
with
Robert
which
was
in
many
ways
a
relief
to
both
.
In
Switzerland
and
Italy
,
when
his
wife
's
gentle
inexorable
silence
became
too
oppressive
to
him
,
Robert
would
pour
himself
out
in
letters
to
Armitstead
,
and
the
correspondence
did
not
altogether
cease
with
his
return
to
London
.
To
the
squire
during
the
same
period
Elsmere
also
wrote
frequently
,
but
rarely
or
never
on
religious
matters
.
On
one
occasion
Armitstead
had
been
pressing
the
favourite
Christian
dilemma
—
Christianity
or
nothing
.
Inside
Christianity
,
light
and
certainty
;
outside
it
,
chaos
.
'
If
it
were
not
for
the
Gospels
and
the
Church
I
should
be
a
Positivist
to-morrow
.
Your
Theism
is
a
mere
arbitrary
hypothesis
,
at
the
mercy
of
any
rival
philosophical
theory
.
How
,
regarding
our
position
as
precarious
,
you
should
come
to
regard
your
own
as
stable
,
is
to
me
incomprehensible
!
'
'
What
I
conceive
to
be
the
vital
difference
between
Theism
and
Christianity
,
'
wrote
Elsmere
in
reply
,
'
is
that
as
an
explanation
of
things
Theism
can
never
be
disproved
.
At
the
worst
it
must
always
remain
in
the
position
of
an
alternative
hypothesis
,
which
the
hostile
man
of
science
cannot
destroy
,
though
he
is
under
no
obligation
to
adopt
it
.
Broadly
speaking
,
it
is
not
the
facts
which
are
in
dispute
,
but
the
inference
to
be
drawn
from
them
.
'
Now
,
considering
the
enormous
complication
of
the
facts
,
the
Theistic
inference
will
,
to
put
it
at
the
lowest
,
always
have
its
place
,
always
command
respect
.
The
man
of
science
may
not
adopt
it
,
but
by
no
advance
of
science
that
I
,
at
any
rate
,
can
foresee
,
can
it
be
driven
out
of
the
field
.
'
Christianity
is
in
a
totally
different
position
.
Its
grounds
are
not
philosophical
but
literary
and
historical
.
It
rests
not
upon
all
fact
,
but
upon
a
special
group
of
facts
.
It
is
,
and
will
always
remain
,
a
great
literary
and
historical
problem
,
a
question
of
documents
and
testimony
.
Hence
,
the
Christian
explanation
is
vulnerable
in
a
way
in
which
the
Theistic
explanation
can
never
be
vulnerable
.
The
contention
,
at
any
rate
,
of
persons
in
my
position
is
:
That
to
the
man
who
has
had
the
special
training
required
,
and
in
whom
this
training
has
not
been
neutralised
by
any
overwhelming
bias
of
temperament
,
it
can
be
as
clearly
demonstrated
that
the
miraculous
Christian
story
rests
on
a
tissue
of
mistake
,
as
it
can
be
demonstrated
that
the
Isidorian
Decretals
were
a
forgery
,
or
the
correspondence
of
Paul
and
Seneca
a
pious
fraud
,
or
that
the
mediæval
belief
in
witchcraft
was
the
product
of
physical
ignorance
and
superstition
.
'
'
You
say
,
'
he
wrote
again
,
in
another
connection
,
to
Armitstead
from
Milan
,
'
you
say
you
think
my
later
letters
have
been
far
too
aggressive
and
positive
.
I
,
too
,
am
astonished
at
myself
.
I
do
not
know
my
own
mood
,
it
is
so
clear
,
so
sharp
,
so
combative
.
Is
it
the
spectacle
of
Italy
,
I
wonder
—
of
a
country
practically
without
religion
—
the
spectacle
in
fact
of
Latin
Europe
as
a
whole
,
and
the
practical
Atheism
in
which
it
is
ingulfed
?
My
dear
friend
,
the
problem
of
the
world
at
this
moment
is
—
how
to
find
a
religion
?
—
some
great
conception
which
shall
be
once
more
capable
,
as
the
old
were
capable
,
of
welding
societies
,
and
keeping
man
's
brutish
elements
in
check
.
Surely
Christianity
of
the
traditional
sort
is
failing
everywhere
—
less
obviously
with
us
,
and
in
Teutonic
Europe
generally
,
but
egregiously
,
notoriously
,
in
all
the
Catholic
countries
.
We
talk
complacently
of
the
decline
of
Buddhism
.
But
what
have
we
to
say
of
the
decline
of
Christianity
?
And
yet
this
last
is
infinitely
more
striking
and
more
tragic
,
inasmuch
as
it
affects
a
more
important
section
of
mankind
.
I
,
at
any
rate
,
am
not
one
of
those
who
would
seek
to
minimise
the
results
of
this
decline
for
human
life
,
nor
can
I
bring
myself
to
believe
that
Positivism
or
"
evolutional
morality
"
will
ever
satisfy
the
race
.
'
In
the
period
of
social
struggle
which
undeniably
lies
before
us
,
both
in
the
old
and
the
new
world
,
are
we
then
to
witness
a
war
of
classes
,
unsoftened
by
the
ideal
hopes
,
the
ideal
law
,
of
faith
?
It
looks
like
it
.
What
does
the
artisan
class
,
what
does
the
town
democracy
throughout
Europe
,
care
any
longer
for
Christian
checks
or
Christian
sanctions
as
they
have
been
taught
to
understand
them
?
Superstition
,
in
certain
parts
of
rural
Europe
,
there
is
in
plenty
,
but
wherever
you
get
intelligence
and
therefore
movement
,
you
get
at
once
either
indifference
to
,
or
a
passionate
break
with
,
Christianity
.
And
consider
what
it
means
,
what
it
will
mean
,
this
Atheism
of
the
great
democracies
which
are
to
be
our
masters
!
The
world
has
never
seen
anything
like
it
;
such
spiritual
anarchy
and
poverty
combined
with
such
material
power
and
resource
.
Every
society
—
Christian
and
non-Christian
—
has
always
till
now
had
its
ideal
,
of
greater
or
less
ethical
value
,
its
appeal
to
something
beyond
man
.
Has
Christianity
brought
us
to
this
:
that
the
Christian
nations
are
to
be
the
first
in
the
world
's
history
to
try
the
experiment
of
a
life
without
faith
—
that
life
which
you
and
I
,
at
any
rate
,
are
agreed
in
thinking
a
life
worthy
only
of
the
brute
?
'
Oh
forgive
me
!
These
things
must
hurt
you
—
they
would
have
hurt
me
in
old
days
—
but
they
burn
within
me
,
and
you
bid
me
speak
out
.
What
if
it
be
God
Himself
who
is
driving
His
painful
lesson
home
to
me
,
to
you
,
to
the
world
?
What
does
it
mean
,
this
gradual
growth
of
what
we
call
infidelity
,
of
criticism
and
science
on
the
one
hand
,
this
gradual
death
of
the
old
traditions
on
the
other
?
Sin
,
you
answer
,
the
enmity
of
the
human
mind
against
God
,
the
momentary
triumph
of
Satan
.
And
so
you
acquiesce
,
heavy-hearted
,
in
God
's
present
defeat
,
looking
for
vengeance
and
requital
hereafter
.
Well
,
I
am
not
so
ready
to
believe
in
man
's
capacity
to
rebel
against
his
Maker
!
Where
you
see
ruin
and
sin
,
I
see
the
urgent
process
of
Divine
education
,
God
's
steady
ineluctable
command
"
to
put
away
childish
things
,
"
the
pressure
of
His
spirit
on
ours
towards
new
ways
of
worship
and
new
forms
of
love
!
'
And
after
a
while
,
it
was
with
these
'
new
ways
of
worship
and
new
forms
of
love
'
that
the
mind
began
to
be
perpetually
occupied
.
The
break
with
the
old
things
was
no
sooner
complete
than
the
eager
soul
,
incapable
then
,
as
always
,
of
resting
in
negation
or
opposition
,
pressed
passionately
forward
to
a
new
synthesis
,
not
only
speculative
,
but
practical
.
Before
it
rose
perpetually
the
haunting
vision
of
another
palace
of
faith
—
another
church
or
company
of
the
faithful
,
which
was
to
become
the
shelter
of
human
aspiration
amid
the
desolation
and
anarchy
caused
by
the
crashing
of
the
old
!
How
many
men
and
women
must
have
gone
through
the
same
strait
as
itself
—
how
many
must
be
watching
with
it
through
the
darkness
for
the
rising
of
a
new
City
of
God
!
One
afternoon
,
close
upon
Christmas
,
he
found
himself
in
Parliament
Square
,
on
his
way
towards
Westminster
Bridge
and
the
Embankment
.
The
beauty
of
a
sunset
sky
behind
the
Abbey
arrested
him
,
and
he
stood
leaning
over
the
railings
beside
the
Peel
statue
to
look
.
The
day
before
he
had
passed
the
same
spot
with
a
German
friend
.
His
companion
—
a
man
of
influence
and
mark
in
his
own
country
,
who
had
been
brought
up
,
however
,
in
England
,
and
knew
it
well
—
had
stopped
before
the
Abbey
and
had
said
to
him
with
emphasis
:
'
I
never
find
myself
in
this
particular
spot
of
London
without
a
sense
of
emotion
and
reverence
.
Other
people
feel
that
in
treading
the
Forum
of
Rome
they
are
at
the
centre
of
human
things
.
I
am
more
thrilled
by
Westminster
than
Rome
;
your
venerable
Abbey
is
to
me
the
symbol
of
a
nationality
to
which
the
modern
world
owes
obligations
it
can
never
repay
.
You
are
rooted
deep
in
the
past
;
you
have
also
a
future
of
infinite
expansiveness
stretching
before
you
.
Among
European
nations
at
this
moment
you
alone
have
freedom
in
the
true
sense
,
you
alone
have
religion
.
I
would
give
a
year
of
life
to
know
what
you
will
have
made
of
your
freedom
and
your
religion
two
hundred
years
hence
!
'
As
Robert
recalled
the
words
,
the
Abbey
lay
before
him
,
wrapped
in
the
bluish
haze
of
the
winter
afternoon
.
Only
the
towers
rose
out
of
the
mist
,
gray
and
black
against
the
red
bands
of
cloud
.
A
pair
of
pigeons
circled
round
them
,
as
careless
and
free
in
flight
as
though
they
were
alone
with
the
towers
and
the
sunset
.
Below
,
the
streets
were
full
of
people
;
the
omnibuses
rolled
to
and
fro
;
the
lamps
were
just
lit
;
lines
of
straggling
figures
,
dark
in
the
half
light
,
were
crossing
the
street
here
and
there
.
And
to
all
the
human
rush
and
swirl
below
,
the
quiet
of
the
Abbey
and
the
infinite
red
distances
of
sky
gave
a
peculiar
pathos
and
significance
.
Robert
filled
his
eye
and
sense
,
and
then
walked
quickly
away
towards
the
Embankment
.
Carrying
the
poetry
and
grandeur
of
England
's
past
with
him
,
he
turned
his
face
eastward
to
the
great
new-made
London
on
the
other
side
of
St.
Paul
's
,
the
London
of
the
democracy
,
of
the
nineteenth
century
,
and
of
the
future
.
He
was
wrestling
with
himself
,
a
prey
to
one
of
those
critical
moments
of
life
,
when
circumstance
seems
once
more
to
restore
to
us
the
power
of
choice
,
of
distributing
a
Yes
or
a
No
among
the
great
solicitations
which
meet
the
human
spirit
on
its
path
from
silence
to
silence
.
The
thought
of
his
friend
's
reverence
,
and
of
his
own
personal
debt
towards
the
country
to
whose
long
travail
of
centuries
he
owed
all
his
own
joys
and
faculties
,
was
hot
within
him
.
'
Here
and
here
did
England
help
me
—
how
can
I
help
England
,
—
say
!
'
Ah
!
that
vast
chaotic
London
south
and
east
of
the
great
church
!
He
already
knew
something
of
it
.
A
Liberal
clergyman
there
,
settled
in
the
very
blackest
,
busiest
heart
of
it
,
had
already
made
him
welcome
on
Mr.
Grey
's
introduction
.
He
had
gone
with
this
good
man
on
several
occasions
through
some
little
fraction
of
that
teeming
world
,
now
so
hidden
and
peaceful
between
the
murky
river
mists
and
the
cleaner
light-filled
grays
of
the
sky
.
He
had
heard
much
,
and
pondered
a
good
deal
,
the
quick
mind
caught
at
once
by
the
differences
,
some
tragic
,
some
merely
curious
and
stimulating
,
between
the
monotonous
life
of
his
own
rural
folk
,
and
the
mad
rush
,
the
voracious
hurry
,
the
bewildering
appearances
and
disappearances
,
the
sudden
ingulfments
,
of
working
London
.
Moreover
,
he
had
spent
a
Sunday
or
two
wandering
among
the
East
End
churches
.
There
,
rather
than
among
the
streets
and
courts
outside
,
as
it
had
seemed
to
him
,
lay
the
tragedy
of
the
city
.
Such
emptiness
,
such
desertion
,
such
a
hopeless
breach
between
the
great
craving
need
outside
and
the
boon
offered
it
within
!
Here
and
there
,
indeed
,
a
patch
of
bright
coloured
success
,
as
it
claimed
to
be
,
where
the
primitive
tendency
of
man
towards
the
organised
excitement
of
religious
ritual
,
visible
in
all
nations
and
civilisations
,
had
been
appealed
to
with
more
energy
and
more
results
than
usual
.
But
in
general
,
blank
failure
,
or
rather
obvious
want
of
success
—
as
the
devoted
men
now
beating
the
void
there
were
themselves
the
first
to
admit
,
with
pain
and
patient
submission
to
the
inscrutable
Will
of
God
.
But
is
it
not
time
we
assured
ourselves
,
he
was
always
asking
,
whether
God
is
still
in
truth
behind
the
offer
man
is
perpetually
making
to
his
brother
man
on
His
behalf
?
He
was
behind
it
once
,
and
it
had
efficacy
,
had
power
.
But
now
—
what
if
all
these
processes
of
so-called
destruction
and
decay
were
but
the
mere
workings
of
that
divine
plastic
force
which
is
for
ever
moulding
human
society
?
What
if
these
beautiful
venerable
things
which
had
fallen
from
him
,
as
from
thousands
of
his
fellows
,
represented
,
in
the
present
stage
of
the
world
's
history
,
not
the
props
,
but
the
hindrances
,
of
man
?
And
if
all
these
large
things
were
true
,
as
he
believed
,
what
should
be
the
individual
's
part
in
this
transition
England
?
Surely
,
at
the
least
,
a
part
of
plain
sincerity
of
act
and
speech
—
a
correspondence
as
perfect
as
could
be
reached
between
the
inner
faith
and
the
outer
word
and
deed
.
So
much
,
at
the
least
,
was
clearly
required
of
him
!
'
Do
not
imagine
,
he
said
to
himself
,
as
though
with
a
fierce
dread
of
possible
self-delusion
,
'
that
it
is
in
you
to
play
any
great
,
any
commanding
part
.
Shun
the
thought
of
it
,
if
it
were
possible
!
But
let
me
do
what
is
given
me
to
do
!
Here
,
in
this
human
wilderness
,
may
I
spend
whatever
of
time
or
energy
or
faculty
may
be
mine
,
in
the
faithful
attempt
to
help
forward
the
new
House
of
Faith
that
is
to
be
,
though
my
utmost
efforts
should
but
succeed
in
laying
some
obscure
stone
in
still
unseen
foundations
!
Let
me
try
and
hand
on
to
some
other
human
soul
,
or
souls
,
before
I
die
,
the
truth
which
has
freed
,
and
which
is
now
sustaining
,
my
own
heart
.
Can
any
man
do
more
?
Is
not
every
man
who
feels
any
certainty
in
him
whatever
bound
to
do
as
much
?
What
matter
if
the
wise
folk
scoff
,
if
even
at
times
,
and
in
a
certain
sense
,
one
seems
to
one
's
self
ridiculous
—
absurdly
lonely
and
powerless
!
All
great
changes
are
preceded
by
numbers
of
sporadic
,
and
as
the
bystander
thinks
,
impotent
efforts
.
But
while
the
individual
effort
sinks
,
drowned
perhaps
in
mockery
,
the
general
movement
quickens
,
gathers
force
we
know
not
how
,
and
—
'
While
the
tired
wave
vainly
breaking
,
Seems
here
no
painful
inch
to
gain
,
Far
back
through
creeks
and
inlets
making
,
Comes
silent
,
flooding
in
the
main
!
'
Darkness
sank
over
the
river
;
all
the
gray
and
purple
distance
with
its
dim
edge
of
spires
and
domes
against
the
sky
,
all
the
vague
intervening
blacknesses
of
street
,
or
bridge
,
or
railway
station
were
starred
and
patterned
with
lights
.
The
vastness
,
the
beauty
of
the
city
filled
him
with
a
sense
of
mysterious
attraction
,
and
as
he
walked
on
with
his
face
uplifted
to
it
,
it
was
as
though
he
took
his
life
in
his
hand
and
flung
it
afresh
into
the
human
gulf
.
'
What
does
it
matter
if
one
's
work
be
raw
and
uncomely
!
All
that
lies
outside
the
great
organised
traditions
of
an
age
must
always
look
so
.
Let
me
bear
my
witness
bravely
,
not
spending
life
in
speech
,
but
not
undervaluing
speech
—
above
all
,
not
being
ashamed
or
afraid
of
it
,
because
other
wise
people
may
prefer
a
policy
of
silence
.
A
man
has
but
the
one
puny
life
,
the
one
tiny
spark
of
faith
.
Better
be
venturesome
with
both
for
God
's
sake
,
than
over-cautious
,
over-thrifty
.
And
—
to
his
own
Master
he
standeth
or
falleth
!
'
Plans
of
work
of
all
kinds
,
literary
and
practical
,
thoughts
of
preaching
in
some
bare
hidden
room
to
men
and
women
orphaned
and
stranded
like
himself
,
began
to
crowd
upon
him
.
The
old
clerical
instinct
in
him
winced
at
some
of
them
.
Robert
had
nothing
of
the
sectary
about
him
by
nature
;
he
was
always
too
deeply
and
easily
affected
by
the
great
historic
existences
about
him
.
But
when
the
Oxford
man
or
the
ex-official
of
one
of
the
most
venerable
and
decorous
of
societies
protested
,
the
believer
,
or
,
if
you
will
,
the
enthusiast
,
put
the
protest
by
.
And
so
the
dream
gathered
substance
and
stayed
with
him
,
till
at
last
he
found
himself
at
his
own
door
.
As
he
closed
it
behind
him
,
Catherine
came
out
into
the
pretty
old
hall
from
the
dining-room
.
'
Robert
,
have
you
walked
all
the
way
?
'
'
Yes
.
I
came
along
the
Embankment
.
Such
a
beautiful
evening
!
'
He
slipped
his
arm
inside
hers
,
and
they
mounted
the
stairs
together
.
She
glanced
at
him
wistfully
.
She
was
perfectly
aware
that
these
months
were
to
him
months
of
incessant
travail
of
spirit
,
and
she
caught
at
this
moment
the
old
strenuous
look
of
eye
and
brow
she
knew
so
well
.
A
year
ago
,
and
every
thought
of
his
mind
had
been
open
to
her
—
and
now
—
she
herself
had
shut
them
out
—
but
her
heart
sank
within
her
.
She
turned
and
kissed
him
.
He
bent
his
head
fondly
over
her
.
But
inwardly
all
the
ardour
of
his
mood
collapsed
at
the
touch
of
her
.
For
the
protests
of
a
world
in
arms
can
be
withstood
with
joy
,
but
the
protest
that
steals
into
your
heart
,
that
takes
love
's
garb
and
uses
love
's
ways
—
there
is
the
difficulty
!
CHAPTER
XXXIII
But
Robert
was
some
time
in
finding
his
opening
,
in
realising
any
fraction
of
his
dream
.
At
first
he
tried
work
under
the
Broad
Church
vicar
to
whom
Grey
had
introduced
him
.
He
undertook
some
rent-collecting
,
and
some
evening
lectures
on
elementary
science
to
boys
and
men
.
But
after
a
while
he
began
to
feel
his
position
false
and
unsatisfactory
.
In
truth
,
his
opinions
were
in
the
main
identical
with
those
of
the
vicar
under
whom
he
was
acting
.
But
Mr.
Vernon
was
a
Broad
Churchman
,
belonged
to
the
Church
Reform
movement
,
and
thought
it
absolutely
necessary
to
'
keep
things
going
,
'
and
by
a
policy
of
prudent
silence
and
gradual
expansion
from
within
,
to
save
the
great
'
plant
'
of
the
Establishment
from
falling
wholesale
into
the
hands
of
the
High
Churchmen
.
In
consequence
he
was
involved
,
as
Robert
held
,
in
endless
contradictions
and
practical
falsities
of
speech
and
action
.
His
large
church
was
attended
by
a
handful
of
some
fifty
to
a
hundred
persons
.
Vernon
could
not
preach
what
he
did
believe
,
and
would
not
preach
,
more
than
was
absolutely
necessary
,
what
he
did
not
believe
.
He
was
hard-working
and
kind-hearted
,
but
the
perpetual
divorce
between
thought
and
action
,
which
his
position
made
inevitable
,
was
constantly
blunting
and
weakening
all
he
did
.
His
whole
life
,
indeed
,
was
one
long
waste
of
power
,
simply
for
lack
of
an
elementary
frankness
.
But
if
these
became
Robert
's
views
as
to
Vernon
,
Vernon
's
feeling
towards
Elsmere
after
six
weeks
'
acquaintance
was
not
less
decided
.
He
was
constitutionally
timid
,
and
he
probably
divined
in
his
new
helper
a
man
of
no
ordinary
calibre
,
whose
influence
might
very
well
turn
out
some
day
to
be
of
the
'
incalculably
diffusive
'
kind
.
He
grew
uncomfortable
,
begged
Elsmere
to
beware
of
any
'
direct
religious
teaching
,
'
talked
in
warm
praise
of
a
'
policy
of
omissions
,
'
and
in
equally
warm
denunciation
of
'
anything
like
a
policy
of
attack
.
'
In
short
,
it
became
plain
that
two
men
so
much
alike
,
and
yet
so
different
,
could
not
long
co-operate
.
However
,
just
as
the
fact
was
being
brought
home
to
Elsmere
,
a
friendly
chance
intervened
.
Hugh
Flaxman
,
the
Leyburns
'
new
acquaintance
and
Lady
Helen
's
brother
,
had
been
drawn
to
Elsmere
at
first
sight
;
and
a
meeting
or
two
,
now
at
Lady
Charlotte
's
,
now
at
the
Leyburns
'
,
had
led
both
men
far
on
the
way
to
a
friendship
.
Of
Hugh
Flaxman
himself
more
hereafter
.
At
present
all
that
need
be
recorded
is
that
it
was
at
Mr.
Flaxman
's
house
,
overlooking
St.
James
's
Park
,
Robert
first
met
a
man
who
was
to
give
him
the
opening
for
which
he
was
looking
.
Mr.
Flaxman
was
fond
of
breakfast
parties
à
la
Rogers
,
and
on
the
first
occasion
when
Robert
could
be
induced
to
attend
one
of
these
functions
,
he
saw
opposite
to
him
what
he
supposed
to
be
a
lad
of
twenty
,
a
young
slip
of
a
fellow
,
whose
sallies
of
fun
and
invincible
good
humour
attracted
him
greatly
.
Sparkling
brown
eyes
,
full
lips
rich
in
humour
and
pugnacity
,
'
lockës
crull
as
they
were
layde
in
presse
,
'
the
same
look
of
'
wonderly
'
activity
too
,
in
spite
of
his
short
stature
and
dainty
make
,
as
Chaucer
lends
his
squire
—
the
type
was
so
fresh
and
pleasing
that
Robert
was
more
and
more
held
by
it
,
especially
when
he
discovered
to
his
bewilderment
that
the
supposed
stripling
must
be
from
his
talk
a
man
quite
as
old
as
himself
,
an
official
besides
,
filling
what
was
clearly
some
important
place
in
the
world
.
He
took
his
full
share
in
the
politics
and
literature
started
at
the
table
,
and
presently
,
when
conversation
fell
on
the
proposed
municipality
for
London
,
said
things
to
which
the
whole
party
listened
.
Robert
's
curiosity
was
aroused
,
and
after
breakfast
he
questioned
his
host
and
was
promptly
introduced
to
'
Mr
.
Murray
Edwardes
.
'
Whereupon
it
turned
out
that
this
baby-faced
sage
was
filling
a
post
,
in
the
work
of
which
perhaps
few
people
in
London
could
have
taken
so
much
interest
as
Robert
Elsmere
.
Fifty
years
before
,
a
wealthy
merchant
who
had
been
one
of
the
chief
pillars
of
London
Unitarianism
had
made
his
will
and
died
.
His
great
warehouses
lay
in
one
of
the
Eastern
riverside
districts
of
the
city
,
and
in
his
will
he
endeavoured
to
do
something
according
to
his
lights
for
the
place
in
which
he
had
amassed
his
money
.
He
left
a
fairly
large
bequest
wherewith
to
build
and
endow
a
Unitarian
chapel
and
found
certain
Unitarian
charities
,
in
the
heart
of
what
was
even
then
one
of
the
densest
and
most
poverty-stricken
of
London
parishes
.
For
a
long
time
,
however
,
chapel
and
charities
seemed
likely
to
rank
as
one
of
the
idle
freaks
of
religious
wealth
and
nothing
more
.
Unitarianism
of
the
old
sort
is
perhaps
the
most
illogical
creed
that
exists
,
and
certainly
it
has
never
been
the
creed
of
the
poor
.
In
old
days
it
required
the
presence
of
a
certain
arid
stratum
of
the
middle
classes
to
live
and
thrive
at
all
.
This
stratum
was
not
to
be
found
in
R
—
—
,
which
rejoiced
instead
in
the
most
squalid
types
of
poverty
and
crime
,
types
wherewith
the
mild
shrivelled
Unitarian
minister
had
about
as
much
power
of
grappling
as
a
Poet
Laureate
with
a
Trafalgar
Square
Socialist
.
Soon
after
the
erection
of
the
chapel
,
there
arose
that
shaking
of
the
dry
bones
of
religious
England
which
we
call
the
Tractarian
movement
.
For
many
years
the
new
force
left
R
—
—
quite
undisturbed
.
The
parish
church
droned
away
,
the
Unitarian
minister
preached
decorously
to
empty
benches
,
knowing
nothing
of
the
agitations
outside
.
At
last
,
however
,
towards
the
end
of
the
old
minister
's
life
,
a
powerful
church
of
the
new
type
,
staffed
by
friends
and
pupils
of
Pusey
,
rose
in
the
centre
of
R
—
—
,
and
the
little
Unitarian
chapel
was
for
a
time
more
snuffed
out
than
ever
,
a
fate
which
this
time
it
shared
dismally
with
the
parish
church
.
As
generally
happened
,
however
,
in
those
days
,
the
proceedings
at
this
new
and
splendid
St.
Wilfrid
's
were
not
long
in
stirring
up
the
Protestantism
of
the
British
rough
,
—
the
said
Protestantism
being
always
one
of
the
finest
excuses
for
brickbats
of
which
the
modern
cockney
is
master
.
The
parish
lapsed
into
a
state
of
private
war
—
hectic
clergy
heading
exasperated
processions
or
intoning
defiant
Litanies
on
the
one
side
,
—
mobs
,
rotten
eggs
,
dead
cats
,
and
blatant
Protestant
orators
on
the
other
.
The
war
went
on
practically
for
years
,
and
while
it
was
still
raging
the
minister
of
the
Unitarian
chapel
died
,
and
the
authorities
concerned
chose
in
his
place
a
young
fellow
,
the
son
of
a
Bristol
minister
,
a
Cambridge
man
besides
,
as
chance
would
have
it
,
of
brilliant
attainments
,
and
unusually
commended
from
many
quarters
,
even
including
some
Church
ones
of
the
Liberal
kind
.
This
curly-haired
youth
,
as
he
was
then
in
reality
,
and
as
to
his
own
quaint
vexation
he
went
on
seeming
to
be
up
to
quite
middle
age
,
had
the
wit
to
perceive
at
the
moment
of
his
entry
on
the
troubled
scene
that
behind
all
the
mere
brutal
opposition
to
the
new
church
,
and
in
contrast
with
the
sheer
indifference
of
three-fourths
of
the
district
,
there
was
a
small
party
consisting
of
an
aristocracy
of
the
artisans
,
whose
protest
against
the
Puseyite
doings
was
of
a
much
quieter
sterner
sort
,
and
amongst
whom
the
uproar
had
mainly
roused
a
certain
crude
power
of
thinking
.
He
threw
himself
upon
this
element
,
which
he
rather
divined
than
discovered
,
and
it
responded
.
He
preached
a
simple
creed
,
drove
it
home
by
pure
and
generous
living
;
he
lectured
,
taught
,
brought
down
workers
from
the
West
End
,
and
before
he
had
been
five
years
in
harness
had
not
only
made
himself
a
power
in
R
—
—
,
but
was
beginning
to
be
heard
of
and
watched
with
no
small
interest
by
many
outsiders
.
This
was
the
man
on
whom
Robert
had
now
stumbled
.
Before
they
had
talked
twenty
minutes
each
was
fascinated
by
the
other
.
They
said
good-bye
to
their
host
,
and
wandered
out
together
into
St.
James
's
Park
,
where
the
trees
were
white
with
frost
and
an
orange
sun
was
struggling
through
the
fog
.
Here
Murray
Edwardes
poured
out
the
whole
story
of
his
ministry
to
attentive
ears
.
Robert
listened
eagerly
.
Unitarianism
was
not
a
familiar
subject
of
thought
to
him
.
He
had
never
dreamt
of
joining
the
Unitarians
,
and
was
indeed
long
ago
convinced
that
in
the
beliefs
of
a
Channing
no
one
once
fairly
started
on
the
critical
road
could
rationally
stop
.
That
common
thinness
and
aridity
,
too
,
of
the
Unitarian
temper
had
weighed
with
him
.
But
here
,
in
the
person
of
Murray
Edwardes
,
it
was
as
though
he
saw
something
old
and
threadbare
revivified
.
The
young
man
's
creed
,
as
he
presented
it
,
had
grace
,
persuasiveness
,
even
unction
;
and
there
was
something
in
his
tone
of
mind
which
was
like
a
fresh
wind
blowing
over
the
fevered
places
of
the
other
's
heart
.
They
talked
long
and
earnestly
,
Edwardes
describing
his
own
work
,
and
the
changes
creeping
over
the
modern
Unitarian
body
,
Elsmere
saying
little
,
asking
much
.
At
last
the
young
man
looked
at
Elsmere
with
eyes
of
bright
decision
.
'
You
cannot
work
with
the
Church
!
'
he
said
—
'
it
is
impossible
.
You
will
only
wear
yourself
out
in
efforts
to
restrain
what
you
could
do
infinitely
more
good
,
as
things
stand
now
,
by
pouring
out
.
Come
to
us
!
—
I
will
put
you
in
the
way
.
You
shall
be
hampered
by
no
pledges
of
any
sort
.
Come
and
take
the
direction
of
some
of
my
workers
.
We
have
all
got
our
hands
more
than
full
.
Your
knowledge
,
your
experience
,
would
be
invaluable
.
There
is
no
other
opening
like
it
in
England
just
now
for
men
of
your
way
of
thinking
and
mine
.
Come
!
Who
knows
what
we
may
be
putting
our
hands
to
—
what
fruit
may
grow
from
the
smallest
seed
?
'
The
two
men
stopped
beside
the
lightly
frozen
water
.
Robert
gathered
that
in
this
soul
,
too
,
there
had
risen
the
same
large
intoxicating
dream
of
a
reorganised
Christendom
,
a
new
wide-spreading
shelter
of
faith
for
discouraged
browbeaten
man
,
as
in
his
own
.
'
I
will
!
'
he
said
briefly
,
after
a
pause
,
his
own
look
kindling
—
'
it
is
the
opening
I
have
been
pining
for
.
I
will
give
you
all
I
can
,
and
bless
you
for
the
chance
.
'
That
evening
Robert
got
home
late
after
a
busy
day
full
of
various
engagements
.
Mary
,
after
some
waiting
up
for
'
Fader
,
'
had
just
been
carried
protesting
,
red
lips
pouting
,
and
fat
legs
kicking
,
off
to
bed
.
Catherine
was
straightening
the
room
,
which
had
been
thrown
into
confusion
by
the
child
's
romps
.
It
was
with
an
effort
—
for
he
knew
it
would
be
a
shock
to
her
—
that
he
began
to
talk
to
her
about
the
breakfast-party
at
Mr.
Flaxman
's
,
and
his
talk
with
Murray
Edwardes
.
But
he
had
made
it
a
rule
with
himself
to
tell
her
everything
that
he
was
doing
or
meant
to
do
.
She
would
not
let
him
tell
her
what
he
was
thinking
.
But
as
much
openness
as
there
could
be
between
them
,
there
should
be
.
Catherine
listened
—
still
moving
about
the
while
—
the
thin
beautiful
lips
becoming
more
and
more
compressed
.
Yes
,
it
was
hard
to
her
,
very
hard
;
the
people
among
whom
she
had
been
brought
up
,
her
father
especially
,
would
have
held
out
the
hand
of
fellowship
to
any
body
of
Christian
people
,
but
not
to
the
Unitarian
.
No
real
barrier
of
feeling
divided
them
from
any
orthodox
Dissenter
,
but
the
gulf
between
them
and
the
Unitarian
had
been
dug
very
deep
by
various
forces
—
forces
of
thought
originally
,
of
strong
habit
and
prejudice
in
the
course
of
time
.
'
He
is
going
to
work
with
them
now
,
'
she
thought
bitterly
;
'
soon
he
will
be
one
of
them
—
perhaps
a
Unitarian
minister
himself
.
'
And
for
the
life
of
her
,
as
he
told
his
tale
,
she
could
find
nothing
but
embarrassed
monosyllables
,
and
still
more
embarrassed
silences
,
wherewith
to
answer
him
.
Till
at
last
he
too
fell
silent
,
feeling
once
more
the
sting
of
a
now
habitual
discomfort
.
Presently
,
however
,
Catherine
came
to
sit
down
beside
him
.
She
laid
her
head
against
his
knee
,
saying
nothing
,
but
gathering
his
hand
closely
in
both
her
own
.
Poor
woman
's
heart
!
One
moment
in
rebellion
,
the
next
a
suppliant
.
He
bent
down
quickly
and
kissed
her
.
'
Would
you
like
,
'
he
said
presently
,
after
both
had
sat
silent
a
while
in
the
firelight
,
'
would
you
care
to
go
to
Madame
de
Netteville
's
to-night
?
'
'
By
all
means
,
'
said
Catherine
with
a
sort
of
eagerness
.
'
It
was
Friday
she
asked
us
for
,
was
n't
it
?
We
will
be
quick
over
dinner
,
and
I
will
go
and
dress
.
'
In
that
last
ten
minutes
which
Robert
had
spent
with
the
squire
in
his
bedroom
,
on
the
Monday
afternoon
,
when
they
were
to
have
walked
.
Mr.
Wendover
had
drily
recommended
Elsmere
to
cultivate
Madame
de
Netteville
.
He
sat
propped
up
in
his
chair
,
white
,
gaunt
,
and
cynical
,
and
this
remark
of
his
was
almost
the
only
reference
he
would
allow
to
the
Elsmere
move
.
'
You
had
better
go
there
,
'
he
said
huskily
,
'
it
will
do
you
good
.
She
gets
the
first-rate
people
and
she
makes
them
talk
,
which
Lady
Charlotte
ca
n't
.
Too
many
fools
at
Lady
Charlotte
's
;
she
waters
the
wine
too
much
.
'
And
he
had
persisted
with
the
subject
—
using
it
,
as
Elsmere
thought
,
as
a
means
of
warding
off
other
conversation
.
He
would
not
ask
Elsmere
's
plans
,
and
he
would
not
allow
a
word
about
himself
.
There
had
been
a
heart
attack
,
old
Meyrick
thought
,
coupled
with
signs
of
nervous
strain
and
excitement
.
It
was
the
last
ailment
which
evidently
troubled
the
doctor
most
.
But
,
behind
the
physical
breakdown
,
there
was
to
Robert
's
sense
something
else
,
a
spiritual
something
,
infinitely
forlorn
and
piteous
,
which
revealed
itself
wholly
against
the
elder
man
's
'
will
,
and
filled
the
younger
with
a
dumb
helpless
rush
of
sympathy
.
Since
his
departure
Robert
had
made
the
keeping
up
of
his
correspondence
with
the
squire
a
binding
obligation
,
and
he
was
to-night
chiefly
anxious
to
go
to
Madame
de
Netteville
's
that
he
might
write
an
account
of
it
to
Murewell
.
Still
the
squire
's
talk
,
and
his
own
glimpse
of
her
at
Murewell
,
had
made
him
curious
to
see
more
of
the
woman
herself
.
The
squire
's
ways
of
describing
her
were
always
half
approving
,
half
sarcastic
.
Robert
sometimes
imagined
that
he
himself
had
been
at
one
time
more
under
her
spell
than
he
cared
to
confess
.
If
so
,
it
must
have
been
when
she
was
still
in
Paris
,
the
young
English
widow
of
a
man
of
old
French
family
,
rich
,
fascinating
,
distinguished
,
and
the
centre
of
a
small
salon
,
admission
to
which
was
one
of
the
social
blue
ribbons
of
Paris
.
Since
the
war
of
1870
Madame
de
Netteville
had
fixed
her
headquarters
in
London
,
and
it
was
to
her
house
in
Hans
Place
that
the
squire
wrote
to
her
about
the
Elsmeres
.
She
owed
Roger
Wendover
debts
of
various
kinds
,
and
she
had
an
encouraging
memory
of
the
young
clergyman
on
the
terrace
at
Murewell
.
So
she
promptly
left
her
cards
,
together
with
the
intimation
that
she
was
at
home
always
on
Friday
evenings
.
'
I
have
never
seen
the
wife
,
'
she
meditated
,
as
her
delicate
jewelled
hand
drew
up
the
window
of
the
brougham
in
front
of
the
Elsmeres
'
lodgings
.
'
But
if
she
is
the
ordinary
country
clergyman
's
spouse
,
the
squire
of
course
will
have
given
the
young
man
a
hint
.
'
But
whether
from
oblivion
,
or
from
some
instinct
of
grim
humour
towards
Catherine
,
whom
he
had
always
vaguely
disliked
,
the
squire
said
not
one
word
about
his
wife
to
Robert
in
the
course
of
their
talk
of
Madame
de
Netteville
.
Catherine
took
pains
with
her
dress
,
sorely
wishing
to
do
Robert
credit
.
She
put
on
one
of
the
gowns
she
had
taken
to
Murewell
when
she
married
.
It
was
black
,
simply
made
,
and
had
been
a
favourite
with
both
of
them
in
the
old
surroundings
.
So
they
drove
off
to
Madame
de
Netteville
's
.
Catherine
's
heart
was
beating
faster
than
usual
as
she
mounted
the
twisting
stairs
of
the
luxurious
little
house
.
All
these
new
social
experiences
were
a
trial
to
her
.
But
she
had
the
vaguest
,
most
unsuspicious
ideas
of
what
she
was
to
see
in
this
particular
house
.
A
long
low
room
was
thrown
open
to
them
.
Unlike
most
English
rooms
,
it
was
barely
though
richly
furnished
.
A
Persian
carpet
,
of
a
self-coloured
grayish
blue
,
threw
the
gilt
French
chairs
and
the
various
figures
sitting
upon
them
into
delicate
relief
.
The
walls
were
painted
white
,
and
had
a
few
French
mirrors
and
girandoles
upon
them
,
half
a
dozen
fine
French
portraits
,
too
,
here
and
there
,
let
into
the
wall
in
oval
frames
.
The
subdued
light
came
from
the
white
sides
of
the
room
,
and
seemed
to
be
there
solely
for
social
purposes
.
You
could
hardly
have
read
or
written
in
the
room
,
but
you
could
see
a
beautiful
woman
in
a
beautiful
dress
there
,
and
you
could
talk
there
,
either
tête-à-tête
,
or
to
the
assembled
company
,
to
perfection
,
so
cunningly
was
it
all
devised
.
When
the
Elsmeres
entered
,
there
were
about
a
dozen
people
present
—
ten
gentlemen
and
two
ladies
.
One
of
the
ladies
,
Madame
de
Netteville
,
was
lying
back
in
the
corner
of
a
velvet
divan
placed
against
the
wall
,
a
screen
between
her
and
a
splendid
fire
that
threw
its
blaze
out
into
the
room
.
The
other
,
a
slim
woman
with
closely
curled
fair
hair
,
and
a
neck
abnormally
long
and
white
,
sat
near
her
,
and
the
circle
of
men
was
talking
indiscriminately
to
both
.
As
the
footman
announced
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Elsmere
,
there
was
a
general
stir
of
surprise
.
The
men
looked
round
;
Madame
de
Netteville
half
rose
with
a
puzzled
look
.
It
was
more
than
a
month
since
she
had
dropped
her
invitation
.
Then
a
flash
,
not
altogether
of
pleasure
,
passed
over
her
face
,
and
she
said
a
few
hasty
words
to
the
woman
near
her
,
advancing
the
moment
afterwards
to
give
her
hand
to
Catherine
.
'
This
is
very
kind
of
you
,
Mrs.
Elsmere
,
to
remember
me
so
soon
.
I
had
imagined
you
were
hardly
settled
enough
yet
to
give
me
the
pleasure
of
seeing
you
.
'
But
the
eyes
fixed
on
Catherine
,
eyes
which
took
in
everything
,
were
not
cordial
,
for
all
their
smile
.
Catherine
,
looking
up
at
her
,
was
overpowered
by
her
excessive
manner
,
and
by
the
woman
's
look
of
conscious
sarcastic
strength
,
struggling
through
all
the
outer
softness
of
beauty
and
exquisite
dress
.
'
Mr
.
Elsmere
,
you
will
find
this
room
almost
as
hot
,
I
am
afraid
,
as
that
afternoon
on
which
we
met
last
.
Let
me
introduce
you
to
Count
Wielandt
—
Mr.
Elsmere
.
Mrs.
Elsmere
,
will
you
come
over
here
,
beside
Lady
Aubrey
Willert
.
'
Robert
found
himself
bowing
to
a
young
diplomatist
,
who
seemed
to
him
to
look
at
him
very
much
as
he
himself
might
have
scrutinised
an
inhabitant
of
New
Guinea
.
Lady
Aubrey
made
an
imperceptible
movement
of
the
head
as
Catherine
was
presented
to
her
,
and
Madame
de
Netteville
,
smiling
and
biting
her
lip
a
little
,
fell
back
into
her
seat
.
There
was
a
faint
odour
of
smoke
in
the
room
.
As
Catherine
sat
down
,
a
young
exquisite
a
few
yards
from
her
threw
the
end
of
a
cigarette
into
the
fire
with
a
little
sharp
decided
gesture
.
Lady
Aubrey
also
pushed
away
a
cigarette
case
which
lay
beside
her
hand
.
Everybody
there
had
the
air
more
or
less
of
an
habitué
of
the
house
;
and
when
the
conversation
began
again
,
the
Elsmeres
found
it
very
hard
,
in
spite
of
certain
perfunctory
efforts
on
the
part
of
Madame
de
Netteville
,
to
take
any
share
in
it
.
'
Well
,
I
believe
the
story
about
Desforêts
is
true
,
'
said
the
fair-haired
young
Apollo
,
who
had
thrown
away
his
cigarette
,
lolling
back
in
his
chair
.
Catherine
started
,
the
little
scene
with
Rose
and
Langham
in
the
English
rectory
garden
flashing
incongruously
back
upon
her
.
'
If
you
get
it
from
the
Ferret
,
my
dear
Evershed
,
'
said
the
ex-Tory
minister
,
Lord
Rupert
,
'
you
may
put
it
down
as
a
safe
lie
.
As
for
me
,
I
believe
she
has
a
much
shrewder
eye
to
the
main
chance
.
'
'
What
do
you
mean
?
'
said
the
other
,
raising
astonished
eyebrows
.
'
Well
,
it
does
n't
pay
,
you
know
,
to
write
yourself
down
a
fiend
—
not
quite
.
'
'
What
—
you
think
it
will
affect
her
audiences
?
Well
,
that
is
a
good
joke
!
'
and
the
young
man
laughed
immoderately
,
joined
by
several
of
the
other
guests
.
'
I
do
n't
imagine
it
will
make
any
difference
to
you
,
my
good
friend
,
'
returned
Lord
Rupert
imperturbably
;
'
but
the
British
public
have
n't
got
your
nerve
.
They
may
take
it
awkwardly
—
I
do
n't
say
they
will
—
when
a
woman
who
has
turned
her
own
young
sister
out
of
doors
at
night
,
in
St.
Petersburg
,
so
that
ultimately
as
a
consequence
the
girl
dies
,
comes
to
ask
them
to
clap
her
touching
impersonations
of
injured
virtue
.
'
'
What
has
one
to
do
with
an
actress
's
private
life
,
my
dear
Lord
Rupert
?
'
asked
Madame
de
Netteville
,
her
voice
slipping
with
a
smooth
clearness
into
the
conversation
,
her
eyes
darting
light
from
under
straight
black
brows
.
'
What
indeed
!
'
said
the
young
man
who
had
begun
the
conversation
with
a
disagreeable
enigmatical
smile
,
stretching
out
his
hand
for
another
cigarette
,
and
drawing
it
back
with
a
look
under
his
drooped
eyelids
—
a
look
of
cold
impertinent
scrutiny
—
at
Catherine
Elsmere
.
'
Ah
!
well
—
I
do
n't
want
to
be
obtrusively
moral
—
Heaven
forbid
!
But
there
is
such
a
thing
as
destroying
the
illusion
to
such
an
extent
that
you
injure
your
pocket
.
Desforêts
is
doing
it
—
doing
it
actually
in
Paris
too
.
'
There
was
a
ripple
of
laughter
.
'
Paris
and
illusions
—
O
mon
Dieu
!
'
groaned
young
Evershed
,
when
he
had
done
laughing
,
laying
meditative
hands
on
his
knees
and
gazing
into
the
fire
.
'
I
tell
you
I
have
seen
it
,
'
said
Lord
Rupert
,
waxing
combative
,
and
slapping
the
leg
he
was
nursing
with
emphasis
.
'
The
last
time
I
went
to
see
Desforêts
in
Paris
the
theatre
was
crammed
,
and
the
house
—
theatrically
speaking
—
ice
.
They
received
her
in
dead
silence
—
they
gave
her
not
one
single
recall
—
and
they
only
gave
her
a
clap
,
that
I
can
remember
,
at
those
two
or
three
points
in
the
play
where
clap
they
positively
must
or
burst
.
They
go
to
see
her
—
but
they
loathe
her
—
and
they
let
her
know
it
.
'
'
Bah
!
'
said
his
opponent
,
'
it
is
only
because
they
are
tired
of
her
.
Her
vagaries
do
n't
amuse
them
any
longer
—
they
know
them
by
heart
.
And
—
by
George
!
she
has
some
pretty
rivals
too
,
now
!
'
he
added
reflectively
,
—
'
not
to
speak
of
the
Bernhardt
.
'
'
Well
,
the
Parisians
can
be
shocked
,
'
said
Count
Wielandt
in
excellent
English
,
bending
forward
so
as
to
get
a
good
view
of
his
hostess
.
'
They
are
just
now
especially
shocked
by
the
condition
of
English
morals
!
'
The
twinkle
in
his
eye
was
irresistible
.
The
men
,
understanding
his
reference
to
the
avidity
with
which
certain
English
aristocratic
scandals
had
been
lately
seized
upon
by
the
French
papers
,
laughed
out
—
so
did
Lady
Aubrey
.
Madame
de
Netteville
contented
herself
with
a
smile
.
'
They
profess
to
be
shocked
,
too
,
by
Renan
's
last
book
,
'
said
the
editor
from
the
other
side
of
the
room
.
'
Dear
me
!
'
said
Lady
Aubrey
,
with
meditative
scorn
,
fanning
herself
lightly
the
while
,
her
thin
but
extraordinarily
graceful
head
and
neck
thrown
out
against
the
golden
brocade
of
the
cushion
behind
her
.
'
Oh
!
what
so
many
of
them
feel
in
Renan
's
case
,
of
course
,
'
said
Madame
de
Netteville
,
'
is
that
every
book
he
writes
now
gives
a
fresh
opening
to
the
enemy
to
blaspheme
.
Your
eminent
freethinker
ca
n't
afford
just
yet
,
in
the
present
state
of
the
world
,
to
make
himself
socially
ridiculous
.
The
cause
suffers
.
'
'
Just
my
feeling
,
'
said
young
Evershed
calmly
.
'
Though
I
may
n't
care
a
rap
about
him
personally
,
I
prefer
that
a
man
on
my
own
front
bench
should
n't
make
a
public
ass
of
himself
if
he
can
help
it
—
not
for
his
sake
,
of
course
,
but
for
mine
!
'
Robert
looked
at
Catherine
.
She
sat
upright
by
the
side
of
Lady
Aubrey
;
her
face
,
of
which
the
beauty
to-night
seemed
lost
in
rigidity
,
pale
and
stiff
.
With
a
contraction
of
heart
he
plunged
himself
into
the
conversation
.
On
his
road
home
that
evening
he
had
found
an
important
foreign
telegram
posted
up
at
the
small
literary
club
to
which
he
had
belonged
since
Oxford
days
.
He
made
a
remark
about
it
now
to
Count
Wielandt
;
and
the
diplomatist
,
turning
rather
unwillingly
to
face
his
questioner
,
recognised
that
the
remark
was
a
shrewd
one
.
Presently
the
young
man
's
frank
intelligence
had
told
.
On
his
way
to
and
from
the
Holy
Land
three
years
before
Robert
had
seen
something
of
the
East
,
and
it
so
happened
that
he
remembered
the
name
of
Count
Wielandt
as
one
of
the
foreign
secretaries
of
legation
present
at
an
official
party
given
by
the
English
Ambassador
at
Constantinople
,
which
he
and
his
mother
had
attended
on
their
return
journey
,
in
virtue
of
a
family
connection
with
the
Ambassador
.
All
that
he
could
glean
from
memory
he
made
quick
use
of
now
,
urged
at
first
by
the
remorseful
wish
to
make
this
new
world
into
which
he
had
brought
Catherine
less
difficult
than
he
knew
it
must
have
been
during
the
last
quarter
of
an
hour
.
But
after
a
while
he
found
himself
leading
the
talk
of
a
section
of
the
room
,
and
getting
excitement
and
pleasure
out
of
the
talk
itself
.
Ever
since
that
Eastern
journey
he
had
kept
an
eye
on
the
subjects
which
had
interested
him
then
,
reading
in
his
rapid
voracious
way
all
that
came
across
him
at
Murewell
,
especially
in
the
squire
's
foreign
newspapers
and
reviews
,
and
storing
it
when
read
in
a
remarkable
memory
.
Catherine
,
after
the
failure
of
some
conversational
attempts
between
her
and
Madame
de
Netteville
,
fell
to
watching
her
husband
with
a
start
of
strangeness
and
surprise
.
She
had
scarcely
seen
him
at
Oxford
among
his
equals
;
and
she
had
very
rarely
been
present
at
his
talks
with
the
squire
.
In
some
ways
,
and
owing
to
the
instinctive
reserves
set
up
between
them
for
so
long
,
her
intellectual
knowledge
of
him
was
very
imperfect
.
His
ease
,
his
resource
,
among
these
men
of
the
world
,
for
whom
—
independent
of
all
else
—
she
felt
a
countrywoman
's
dislike
,
filled
her
with
a
kind
of
bewilderment
.
'
Are
you
new
to
London
?
'
Lady
Aubrey
asked
her
presently
,
in
that
tone
of
absolute
detachment
from
the
person
addressed
which
certain
women
manage
to
perfection
.
She
,
too
,
had
been
watching
the
husband
,
and
the
sight
had
impressed
her
with
a
momentary
curiosity
to
know
what
the
stiff
,
handsome
,
dowdily-dressed
wife
was
made
of
.
'
We
have
been
two
months
here
,
'
said
Catherine
,
her
large
gray
eyes
taking
in
her
companion
's
very
bare
shoulders
,
the
costly
fantastic
dress
,
and
the
diamonds
flashing
against
the
white
skin
.
'
In
what
part
?
'
'
In
Bedford
Square
.
'
Lady
Aubrey
was
silent
.
She
had
no
ideas
on
the
subject
of
Bedford
Square
at
command
.
'
We
are
very
central
,
'
said
Catherine
,
feeling
desperately
that
she
was
doing
Robert
no
credit
at
all
,
and
anxious
to
talk
if
only
something
could
be
found
to
talk
about
.
'
Oh
yes
,
you
are
near
the
theatres
,
'
said
the
other
indifferently
.
This
was
hardly
an
aspect
of
the
matter
which
had
yet
occurred
to
Catherine
.
A
flash
of
bitterness
ran
through
her
.
Had
they
left
their
Murewell
life
to
be
'
near
the
theatres
,
'
and
kept
at
arm
's
length
by
supercilious
great
ladies
?
'
We
are
very
far
from
the
Park
,
'
she
answered
with
an
effort
.
'
I
wish
we
were
n't
,
for
my
little
girl
's
sake
.
'
'
Oh
,
you
have
a
little
girl
!
How
old
?
'
'
Sixteen
months
.
'
'
Too
young
to
be
a
nuisance
yet
.
Mine
are
just
old
enough
to
be
in
everybody
's
way
.
Children
are
out
of
place
in
London
.
I
always
want
to
leave
mine
in
the
country
,
but
my
husband
objects
,
'
said
Lady
Aubrey
coolly
.
There
was
a
certain
piquancy
in
saying
frank
things
to
this
stiff
Madonna-faced
woman
.
Madame
de
Netteville
,
meanwhile
,
was
keeping
up
a
conversation
in
an
undertone
with
young
Evershed
,
who
had
come
to
sit
on
a
stool
beside
her
,
and
was
gazing
up
at
her
with
eyes
of
which
the
expression
was
perfectly
understood
by
several
persons
present
.
The
handsome
,
dissipated
,
ill-conditioned
youth
had
been
her
slave
and
shadow
for
the
last
two
years
.
His
devotion
now
no
longer
amused
her
,
and
she
was
endeavouring
to
get
rid
of
it
and
of
him
.
But
the
process
was
a
difficult
one
,
and
took
both
time
and
finesse
.
She
kept
her
eye
,
notwithstanding
,
on
the
new-comers
whom
the
squire
's
introduction
had
brought
to
her
that
night
.
When
the
Elsmeres
rose
to
go
,
she
said
good-bye
to
Catherine
with
an
excessive
politeness
,
under
which
her
poor
guest
,
conscious
of
her
own
gaucherie
during
the
evening
,
felt
the
touch
of
satire
she
was
perhaps
meant
to
feel
.
But
when
Catherine
was
well
ahead
Madame
de
Netteville
gave
Robert
one
of
her
most
brilliant
smiles
.
'
Friday
evening
,
Mr.
Elsmere
;
always
Fridays
.
You
will
remember
?
'
The
naïveté
of
Robert
's
social
view
,
and
the
mobility
of
his
temper
,
made
him
easily
responsive
.
He
had
just
enjoyed
half
an
hour
's
brilliant
talk
with
two
or
three
of
the
keenest
and
most
accomplished
men
in
Europe
.
Catherine
had
slipped
out
of
his
sight
meanwhile
,
and
the
impression
of
their
entrée
had
been
effaced
.
He
made
Madame
de
Netteville
,
therefore
,
a
cordial
smiling
reply
before
his
tall
slender
form
disappeared
after
that
of
his
wife
.
'
Agreeable
—
rather
an
acquisition
!
'
said
Madame
de
Netteville
to
Lady
Aubrey
,
with
a
light
motion
of
the
head
towards
Robert
's
retreating
figure
.
'
But
the
wife
!
Good
heavens
!
I
owe
Roger
Wendover
a
grudge
.
I
think
he
might
have
made
it
plain
to
those
good
people
that
I
do
n't
want
strange
women
at
my
Friday
evenings
.
'
Lady
Aubrey
laughed
.
'
No
doubt
she
is
a
genius
,
or
a
saint
,
in
mufti
.
She
might
be
handsome
too
if
some
one
would
dress
her
.
'
Madame
de
Netteville
shrugged
her
shoulders
.
'
Oh
!
life
is
not
long
enough
to
penetrate
that
kind
of
person
,
'
she
said
.
Meanwhile
the
'
person
'
was
driving
homeward
very
sad
and
ill
at
ease
.
She
was
vexed
that
she
had
not
done
better
,
and
yet
she
was
wounded
by
Robert
's
enjoyment
.
The
Puritan
in
her
blood
was
all
aflame
.
As
she
sat
looking
into
the
motley
lamplit
night
,
she
could
have
'
testified
'
like
any
prophetess
of
old
.
Robert
meanwhile
,
his
hand
slipped
into
hers
,
was
thinking
of
Wielandt
's
talk
,
and
of
some
racy
stories
of
Berlin
celebrities
told
by
a
young
attaché
who
had
joined
their
group
.
His
lips
were
lightly
smiling
,
his
brow
serene
.
But
as
he
helped
her
down
from
the
cab
,
and
they
stood
in
the
hall
together
,
he
noticed
the
pale
discomposure
of
her
looks
.
Instantly
the
familiar
dread
and
pain
returned
upon
him
.
'
Did
you
like
it
,
Catherine
?
'
he
asked
her
,
with
something
like
timidity
,
as
they
stood
together
by
their
bedroom
fire
.
She
sank
into
a
low
chair
and
sat
a
moment
staring
at
the
blaze
.
He
was
startled
by
her
look
of
suffering
,
and
,
kneeling
,
he
put
his
arms
tenderly
round
her
.
'
Oh
,
Robert
,
Robert
!
'
she
cried
,
falling
on
his
neck
.
'
What
is
it
?
'
he
asked
,
kissing
her
hair
.
'
I
seem
all
at
sea
,
'
she
said
in
a
choked
voice
,
her
face
hidden
,
—
'
the
old
landmarks
swallowed
up
!
I
am
always
judging
and
condemning
,
—
always
protesting
.
What
am
I
that
I
should
judge
?
But
how
—
how
—
can
I
help
it
?
'
She
drew
herself
away
from
him
,
once
more
looking
into
the
fire
with
drawn
brows
.
'
Darling
,
the
world
is
full
of
difference
.
Men
and
women
