staring,
with
eyes
still
dilated
,
straight
before
her
;
"
that
was
the
day
we
went
to
Wesenstein
!
"
"
There
is
more
about
him
—
another
little
paragraph
!
"
says
Sarah
,
resuming
her
reading
.
"
Oh
,
now
we
shall
find
out
whom
he
married
.
'
Mr
.
Rivers
was
born
on
the
1st
of
May
,
18
—
'
(
Ah
!
Ten
and
ten
,
twenty
,
and
ten
thirty
,
forty
—
that
would
make
him
just
fifty-four
)
—
'
and
was
the
eldest
son
of
the
late
Mr.
Rivers
,
of
Denver
Hall
,
at
whose
death
the
property
was
sold
,
in
consequence
of
pecuniary
embarrassments
.
'
(
Hem
!
they
seem
to
be
addicted
to
pecuniary
embarrassments
.
)
'
It
was
repurchased
,
five
years
ago
,
by
Mr.
Rivers
,
who
had
amassed
a
large
fortune
in
the
iron
trade
.
He
married
,
on
the
3rd
of
June
,
18
—
,
the
Lady
Marion
Lovell
,
third
daughter
of
the
late
,
and
sister
of
the
present
,
Earl
of
Eastwood
'
(
bravo
,
David
!
I
knew
that
he
was
not
undiluted
iron
)
,
'
by
whom
he
has
left
issue
'
—
(
a
good
deal
of
issue
,
I
am
afraid
)
.
'
He
was
an
enlightened
patron
of
agriculture
,
and
belonged
to
several
agricultural
societies
.
His
death
will
be
widely
and
deeply
deplored
.
'
"
She
lays
down
the
paper
.
"
That
is
all
.
"
"
All
!
"
repeats
Belinda
in
an
awed
voice
;
"
and
enough
too
!
"
"
What
a
mercy
for
David
that
he
was
not
at
home
!
"
"
He
will
not
think
so
,
"
replies
Belinda
sadly
.
"
He
will
avoid
most
of
the
horrors
—
coroner
's
inquest
and
all
!
"
says
Sarah
,
with
a
shiver
of
disgust
.
"
I
wonder
what
day
the
funeral
was
?
You
could
not
expect
him
to
write
before
that
.
I
am
afraid
that
now
you
must
not
hope
to
hear
before
we
leave
.
"
"
Of
course
not
—
of
course
not
!
"
feverishly
.
"
Poor
boy
!
I
do
not
want
him
to
think
of
me
at
all
!
"
"
I
expect
that
you
are
the
one
pleasant
thing
he
has
to
think
about
,
"
replies
Sarah
drily
.
"
I
hope
to
heavens
that
the
money
—
"
stopping
abruptly
.
"
Will
you
believe
it
?
There
she
is
!
I
hear
her
voice
.
She
has
come
to
tell
us
.
Tommy
,
Tommy
!
"
flying
headlong
into
the
passage
,
"
we
are
not
at
home
—
we
are
not
at
home
to
anybody
.
"
But
,
as
usual
,
it
is
too
late
.
Punch
,
indeed
,
gallops
out
in
aid
,
barking
irefully
.
It
is
not
that
bark
of
boisterous
compliment
which
he
addresses
to
most
people
,
but
one
of
a
different
character
—
one
not
unfrequently
accompanied
by
a
nip
at
the
heels
of
the
person
indicated
;
a
bark
which
he
reserves
exclusively
for
tramps
and
Miss
Watson
.
Slutty
has
instantly
crawled
on
her
stomach
under
the
settee
.
To
do
Tommy
justice
,
he
has
opened
the
door
as
little
as
he
possibly
could
;
but
by
thrusting
her
person
into
the
aperture
Miss
Watson
has
succeeded
in
considerably
widening
it
,
and
now
stands
in
it
,
talking
loudly
and
brandishing
a
newspaper
.
As
soon
as
she
catches
sight
of
Sarah
—
"
Have
you
heard
?
"
she
cries
eagerly
.
"
Have
you
seen
it
?
Young
Rivers
'
father
's
death
?
—
suicide
?
I
thought
you
might
not
have
seen
it
.
"
"
Of
course
we
have
,
"
replies
Sarah
curtly
;
"
of
course
we
have
our
papers
as
usual
.
I
am
sorry
I
cannot
ask
you
to
come
in
this
morning
;
we
are
so
—
"
"
Do
you
think
he
was
off
his
head
?
"
asks
the
other
,
interrupting
.
"
Do
you
think
there
is
madness
in
the
family
?
If
so
,
no
doubt
they
got
it
from
the
Lovells
;
there
is
mostly
scrofula
of
one
form
or
another
in
all
those
old
families
.
"
"
What
a
comfort
for
the
new
ones
!
"
answers
Sarah
with
a
sneer
.
"
Well
,
I
am
afraid
that
we
are
so
busy
packing
—
"
"
Were
not
you
surprised
to
hear
that
he
had
married
one
of
the
Lovells
?
I
had
not
an
idea
that
he
had
married
one
of
the
Lovells
.
He
did
not
get
a
penny
with
her
,
I
will
answer
for
it
;
they
are
as
poor
as
Job
.
Eastwood
is
mortgaged
up
to
the
hall-door
.
"
"
Is
it
?
Well
,
as
we
have
already
heard
your
news
,
"
taking
hold
of
the
door
with
a
determined
air
—
"
come
in
,
Punch
,
or
you
will
be
shut
out
!
"
"
What
papers
have
you
seen
?
"
asks
the
other
inquisitively
.
"
I
wonder
is
the
account
the
same
in
them
all
.
Would
you
mind
my
having
a
look
at
yours
?
"
Sarah
shakes
her
head
.
"
Impossible
!
Granny
has
not
seen
them
!
"
"
I
would
lend
you
mine
with
all
the
pleasure
in
life
,
only
that
I
am
just
going
to
run
round
with
it
to
the
Freres
and
Gay-hursts
;
they
take
only
the
Times
;
there
are
not
so
many
details
in
the
Times
.
"
A
surly
silence
is
the
only
response
.
"
Poor
fellow
!
it
is
too
sad
,
is
it
not
?
"
continues
Miss
Watson
,
her
large
face
beaming
with
pleasurable
excitement
.
"
I
do
not
know
when
I
have
felt
so
cut
up
about
anything
!
I
shall
make
a
point
of
writing
to
him
;
shall
not
you
?
"
"
She
is
going
to
make
a
point
of
writing
to
him
,
"
says
Sarah
with
a
grimace
,
rejoining
her
sister
a
moment
or
two
later
,
a
judiciously
placed
hint
as
to
the
probability
of
some
one
being
beforehand
with
her
at
the
Gayhursts
and
Freres
having
rid
her
of
her
visitor
.
"
It
may
be
a
bad
thing
to
lose
a
father
,
but
it
is
very
much
worse
to
be
consoled
for
him
by
Miss
Watson
.
By-the-bye
,
"
with
a
change
of
tone
,
"
David
has
your
address
,
has
not
he
—
your
London
address
—
you
gave
it
him
,
eh
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Ah
,
"
with
a
little
sigh
of
satisfaction
,
"
that
is
all
right
then
!
The
sooner
we
get
to
England
the
better
,
for
all
reasons
.
"
Belinda
echoes
the
sentiment
.
What
is
there
to
keep
her
or
her
heart
here
now
?
In
the
place
of
the
drag
which
a
while
ago
she
would
have
put
upon
the
days
,
she
would
now
use
whip
and
spur
to
them
.
If
Time
were
to
obey
our
impulses
,
in
what
a
strange
jerky
manner
would
he
proceed
!
It
is
beyond
the
range
of
possibility
that
she
should
receive
a
letter
from
him
here
.
It
would
be
the
height
of
filial
impiety
.
How
dare
she
thrust
her
trivial
self
between
him
and
the
grandeur
of
his
grief
?
How
dare
one
thought
of
her
cross
his
mind
ere
yet
his
father
is
laid
in
his
bloody
and
dishonoured
grave
?
But
by
the
time
that
they
have
reached
England
,
four
more
days
will
have
elapsed
.
Mrs.
Churchill
has
stipulated
that
the
journey
shall
be
accomplished
leisurely
.
Once
in
England
,
he
and
she
will
at
all
events
be
separated
by
only
one
day
's
post
,
less
than
a
day
's
journey
.
In
London
there
are
so
many
posts
in
the
day
.
Every
two
hours
does
not
there
come
a
double
knock
?
and
may
not
any
one
of
these
double
knocks
possibly
—
nay
,
why
be
irrationally
down-hearted
?
—
probably
bring
her
salvation
?
By
dint
of
continued
cherishing
,
her
hopes
soar
higher
still
.
Why
should
he
write
?
what
is
there
to
hinder
his
coming
himself
?
In
her
heart
she
hears
his
footfall
on
the
stairs
;
it
will
fall
more
softly
on
the
carpeted
London
steps
than
on
these
bare
stone
ones
.
Perhaps
it
will
be
less
springy
than
of
yore
;
grief
may
have
made
it
heavier
and
slower
.
He
will
enter
in
his
black
clothes
;
she
has
never
seen
him
in
black
,
and
tries
to
reconstruct
him
in
this
sombre
habit
.
He
will
not
smile
,
it
would
not
be
right
that
he
should
;
but
he
will
stretch
out
his
arms
to
her
—
Tommy
being
gone
.
At
this
point
her
face
always
falls
forward
into
her
hands
,
and
the
carnations
overrun
their
borders
.
She
can
no
more
look
at
that
picture
than
she
can
stare
unwinking
at
the
mid-day
sun
.
But
though
she
struggles
earnestly
to
keep
hope
sober
and
low
,
it
is
with
an
elastic
step
and
a
bright
face
that
she
treads
the
platform
of
the
Dresden
railway
station
on
the
day
and
at
the
hour
of
their
departure
.
The
tickets
have
been
taken
;
their
own
,
that
of
the
luggage
,
Punch
's
.
Slutty
is
small
enough
to
defraud
the
revenue
by
travelling
in
an
ingeniously
constructed
house
of
her
own
,
which
has
the
air
of
a
large
dressing-bag
,
and
under
which
Belinda
,
Sarah
,
and
the
maid
take
turns
to
stagger
.
And
now
Mrs.
Churchill
and
Belinda
have
already
seated
themselves
and
arranged
their
packages
.
Sarah
still
loiters
on
the
step
,
half
the
German
army
gathered
round
her
.
She
has
asked
them
all
to
come
and
see
her
off
,
and
not
one
but
has
answered
to
the
call
.
Her
hands
are
full
of
great
bouquets
that
they
have
not
stretch
enough
to
hold
.
She
is
distributing
more
addresses
than
she
has
time
rapidly
to
pencil
.
Apparently
,
every
one
of
them
is
to
correspond
with
her
.
Belinda
has
no
bouquet
,
and
no
one
has
asked
for
her
direction
.
Even
her
last
view
of
the
fair
city
is
obstructed
by
Sarah
,
who
has
monopolised
the
window
to
lean
out
and
kiss
her
fingers
,
crying
,
"
Auf
Wiedersehen
!
"
until
the
last
glimpse
of
her
dark-blue
,
light-blue
,
and
green
admirers
is
lost
to
sight
.
And
yet
it
is
with
a
light
heart
,
that
sometimes
even
dances
,
that
Miss
Churchill
steams
away
towards
her
native
shores
.
PERIOD
II
.
"
Je
ne
comprends
pas
comme
on
peut
tant
penser
à
une
personne
:
n'aurai-je
jamais
tout
pensé
?
"
CHAPTER
I
.
It
is
November
;
the
second
November
since
the
Churchills
'
return
from
Dresden
.
A
second
summer
has
raced
after
a
second
spring
;
and
a
second
autumn
is
pursuing
both
.
The
full
tale
of
eighteen
months
is
complete
.
Time
has
swung
by
on
his
mighty
wings
,
which
all
the
centuries
are
power-less
to
tire
,
bearing
in
his
arms
diverse
gifts
.
To
some
he
has
brought
satisfied
ambition
;
to
some
grinding
poverty
;
to
some
a
surfeit
of
pleasure
;
to
some
a
mad-house
;
and
to
some
a
grave
.
To
many
only
a
bundle
of
little
nagging
cares
and
pigmy
pleasures
,
that
passed
without
much
heeding
.
To
the
Churchills
he
has
brought
—
what
?
To
Mrs.
Churchill
a
beautiful
new
râtelier
;
to
Sarah
,
six
new
lovers
and
one
new
dog
;
and
to
Belinda
,
a
knowledge
of
the
postman
's
step
,
whether
distant
or
near
,
that
she
might
defy
any
inhabitant
of
this
or
any
other
street
to
rival
.
Before
her
return
home
,
she
had
congratulated
herself
upon
the
convenience
and
number
of
the
London
posts
.
Ere
six
months
are
out
,
she
execrates
their
frequency
.
For
eighteen
months
Belinda
has
been
listening
,
and
not
once
have
her
ears
been
filled
with
the
sound
that
they
are
ever
strained
to
catch
.
Not
once
has
Rivers
written
.
Not
once
has
he
come
in
person
to
explain
his
silence
.
He
is
gone
—
simply
gone
out
of
her
life
.
That
is
all
!
He
was
free
,
of
course
,
to
come
or
to
go
;
as
she
tells
herself
,
she
cannot
quarrel
with
him
for
that
.
The
why
she
is
at
issue
with
him
is
that
he
has
taken
the
taste
out
of
her
life
with
him
.
For
her
he
has
taken
the
colour
out
of
the
sunsets
,
and
the
music
out
of
the
larks
.
She
looks
at
the
beauty
of
our
mother
earth
with
a
grudging
,
sullen
eye
.
The
summers
with
the
glories
of
their
roses
,
the
autumns
with
the
glories
of
their
sheaves
,
are
to
her
absolutely
waste
and
worthless
.
"
Even
if
he
came
back
to
me
,
"
she
says
to
herself
;
"
even
if
I
lived
to
be
ninety
,
and
saw
him
henceforth
every
day
,
every
minute
,
until
I
die
,
I
could
never
fill
the
emptiness
of
these
days
;
they
will
always
have
been
dead
,
dead
loss
!
"
Now
and
again
she
rises
up
in
revolt
against
the
tyranny
of
the
idea
that
is
eating
into
and
corroding
her
prime
.
She
will
cut
him
out
of
her
life
;
will
cut
off
that
portion
of
her
life
in
which
he
had
concern
,
sheer
away
,
like
a
precipice
.
"
I
did
well
before
I
knew
him
,
"
she
says
to
herself
,
with
a
sort
of
indignation
.
"
He
was
in
the
world
,
and
so
was
I
;
he
smiled
as
he
does
now
—
does
he
smile
now
,
I
wonder
?
—
and
I
was
none
the
worse
for
it
.
He
did
not
blot
out
the
sun
;
he
did
not
make
it
uphill
work
to
eat
,
to
speak
,
to
breathe
.
Let
things
be
as
they
were
then
.
Why
cannot
they
be
?
They
shall
be
!
"
For
a
moment
she
is
strong
and
light-hearted
;
sings
a
gay
verse
of
a
song
;
feels
the
goodliness
of
youth
.
Then
a
sick
qualm
comes
over
her
.
It
is
gone
,
done
with
!
and
the
whole
earth
,
the
whole
of
life
,
is
empty
,
hideous
,
void
!
It
is
November
;
the
afternoon
is
drawing
towards
its
close
.
Tea
has
been
drunk
,
and
visitors
are
gone
.
The
hour
of
dressing
draws
nigh
.
This
,
however
,
is
a
fact
that
neither
Mrs.
Churchill
nor
Sarah
are
willing
to
admit
;
Mrs.
Churchill
because
her
drive
has
made
her
sleepy
,
and
fire
and
owl-light
are
drowsy
and
soothing
;
Sarah
because
she
is
absorbed
in
the
ingenious
,
if
not
useful
,
employment
of
painting
the
large
white
terrier
lately
added
to
the
establishment
,
in
coloured
stripes
and
spots
to
represent
a
clown
.
Jane
is
,
happily
for
herself
,
not
a
sensitive
dog
,
and
submits
with
stolid
good-humour
to
a
process
that
would
penetrate
Slutty
's
heart
with
agonies
of
undying
shame
.
"
Belinda
is
late
,
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
,
drawing
herself
up
into
a
sitting
posture
,
the
first
preparatory
step
towards
the
unavoidable
,
dreaded
move
upstairs
.
"
I
hope
she
will
not
come
back
until
Jane
is
finished
,
"
answers
Sarah
warmly
,
hesitating
for
an
instant
in
the
choice
of
a
pigment
;
while
Jane
opens
her
mouth
in
a
large
,
bored
,
patient
yawn
.
"
Perhaps
she
did
not
find
it
so
tiresome
as
she
expected
,
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
,
reluctantly
taking
the
second
step
towards
departure
,
and
rising
to
her
feet
.
"
Perhaps
not
,
"
replies
Sarah
absently
,
drawing
back
her
head
the
better
to
judge
of
the
effect
of
a
large
splash
of
gamboge
,
just
applied
upon
Jane
's
right
cheek
.
"
What
an
object
you
are
making
of
that
poor
dog
!
"
laughing
lazily
.
"
She
likes
it
!
"
replies
Sarah
gravely
.
"
She
thinks
it
is
becoming
.
Do
not
tell
her
it
is
not
.
If
she
is
a
success
,
I
mean
to
paint
the
others
as
Harlequin
and
Columbine
!
"
"
I
wish
Belinda
would
come
,
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
,
with
a
little
comfortable
curiosity
in
nowise
akin
to
the
loving
,
foolish
solicitude
that
thinks
that
some
unlikely
misfortune
must
have
happened
to
its
beloved
,
if
he
or
she
be
detained
five
minutes
beyond
his
or
her
usual
time
.
"
I
hope
she
will
not
come
until
Jane
is
finished
!
"
repeats
Sarah
seriously
,
working
away
with
redoubled
ardour
.
"
I
think
she
must
have
been
amused
.
"
"
H
'm
!
"
replies
Sarah
dubiously
.
"
If
she
is
,
she
is
the
first
person
in
whom
that
emotion
was
ever
provoked
by
an
afternoon
drum
;
and
Belinda
is
not
easily
amused
.
I
think
,
"
with
quiet
pride
,
"
that
Jane
will
amuse
her
.
Ah
,
how
provoking
!
Here
she
is
!
"
In
effect
,
as
the
last
words
leave
her
lips
the
door
opens
,
and
her
sister
enters
.
If
your
eyes
were
shut
,
or
if
you
were
blind
,
your
ear
would
never
have
told
you
that
it
was
a
young
person
's
entrance
,
so
measured
and
unelastic
is
her
step
.
"
Do
not
come
here
!
Do
not
look
at
Jane
!
"
cries
Sarah
in
an
agonized
voice
,
hastily
throwing
the
cloth
on
which
she
has
been
wiping
her
brushes
over
Jane
's
long-suffering
back
.
"
Stay
where
you
are
!
No
!
Now
you
may
come
!
"
"
Which
am
I
to
do
?
"
asks
Belinda
;
and
her
voice
has
as
little
spring
in
it
as
her
step
.
"
Well
?
"
cries
Mrs.
Churchill
in
a
voice
of
cheerful
expectancy
,
ready
to
abridge
her
dressing-time
,
to
sit
down
again
and
be
amused
.
"
Well
?
"
replies
Belinda
unresponsively
.
She
has
advanced
to
the
fire
,
and
now
stands
there
,
a
foot
on
the
fender
,
for
the
evening
is
chill
;
while
the
cheerful
flames
,
upspringing
,
play
upon
the
uncheerful
beauty
of
her
face
,
and
lend
a
little
of
their
own
dancing
to
the
"
Eyes
too
expressive
to
be
blue
,
Too
lovely
to
be
gray
,
"
that
have
no
dancing
of
their
own
in
them
.
"
You
are
the
worst
person
in
the
world
to
send
out
,
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
,
disappointed
and
cross
;
"
for
all
the
news
you
bring
back
,
you
might
as
well
stay
at
home
.
"
A
couple
of
years
ago
,
Belinda
would
have
pleasantly
acquiesced
in
her
own
lack
of
observation
;
would
have
cheerfully
tried
to
remedy
it
.
Now
she
only
answers
,
with
a
sullen
look
:
"
What
is
there
to
tell
?
What
is
there
ever
to
tell
about
a
drum
?
There
was
a
mob
of
women
,
and
a
smell
of
hot
seal-skins
!
"
"
Not
a
man
,
of
course
?
"
asks
Sarah
from
the
distant
corner
of
the
room
,
whither
she
has
retired
with
the
inchoate
Jane
,
to
pursue
her
artistic
labours
unseen
.
"
How
glad
I
am
I
did
not
go
!
"
Belinda
smiles
.
When
she
smiles
,
you
see
even
more
clearly
than
when
she
is
grave
the
inexpressible
hardening
which
has
happened
to
her
face
.
"
There
were
two
or
three
men
.
"
"
The
usual
refuse
that
you
meet
in
a
second-class
literary
salon
,
I
suppose
,
"
rejoins
Sarah
contemptuously
.
"
Dirty
little
poets
,
and
greasy
little
positivists
?
"
Belinda
still
smiles
a
smile
that
is
without
gaiety
,
but
is
not
without
satire
.
"
There
was
one
man
there
whom
you
did
not
think
too
grimy
to
bestow
a
good
deal
of
your
notice
upon
at
one
period
of
your
history
.
"
"
Who
?
"
asks
Sarah
,
pricking
up
her
ears
with
awakened
yet
puzzled
interest
.
"
You
would
not
be
likely
to
meet
any
of
my
friends
there
,
I
should
hope
.
"
"
Guess
!
"
"
Je
vous
le
donne
en
trois
;
je
vous
le
donne
en
dix
;
je
vous
le
donne
en
mille
!
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
,
who
at
the
unsealing
of
her
granddaughter
's
lips
has
recovered
her
good-humour
.
"
Was
it
—
pooh
!
what
a
memory
I
have
—
Signor
Valetta
,
the
singing-master
,
who
went
down
on
his
knees
in
the
middle
of
the
lesson
?
"
"
No.
"
"
I
have
it
!
It
was
the
German
who
wrote
'
Ich
liebe
dich
!
'
on
the
fly-leaf
of
the
grammar
!
"
"
It
was
not
!
"
Sarah
has
paused
,
brush
in
hand
,
her
brows
furrowed
by
her
efforts
to
repass
in
her
mind
's
eye
the
crowded
phalanx
of
her
suitors
.
"
They
were
the
nearest
approach
to
literature
I
ever
made
,
"
she
says
doubtfully
;
"
except
"
—
a
sudden
rush
of
colour
and
animation
into
face
and
eyes
—
"
except
—
no
!
it
could
not
have
been
;
it
was
not
—
was
it
—
Professor
Forth
?
"
"
It
was
Professor
Forth
.
"
"
How
awkward
for
you
!
"
cries
Mrs.
Churchill
,
interested
;
"
and
of
course
he
is
not
man
of
the
world
enough
to
carry
off
the
gêne
of
such
a
meeting
!
"
In
the
emotion
of
the
moment
,
Sarah
has
unintentionally
released
Jane
,
who
now
trots
composedly
back
to
the
fire
,
her
incomplete
face
white
on
one
side
and
garishly
painted
on
the
other
—
a
fact
which
,
even
when
taken
in
connection
with
the
distrustful
and
angry
wonder
of
the
other
dogs
,
is
powerless
to
rob
her
of
her
stoic
calm
.
"
Did
he
speak
to
you
?
Did
you
speak
to
him
?
"
cries
Sarah
in
high
excitement
,
running
back
to
the
hearth
.
"
I
talked
to
him
for
a
good
half-hour
.
"
"
He
accepted
the
situation
,
in
short
,
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
.
"
Well
,
that
was
more
than
I
should
have
expected
of
him
.
"
"
Did
he
mention
me
?
Of
course
he
mentioned
me
?
"
asked
Sarah
eagerly
.
"
He
inquired
after
granny
;
and
then
he
put
you
in
as
an
afterthought
.
"
"
I
dare
say
that
he
could
not
command
his
voice
to
ask
after
me
at
first
?
"
cries
the
other
,
laughing
.
"
Did
his
voice
tremble
at
all
?
I
hope
it
trembled
.
"
"
Not
in
the
very
least
.
"
"
You
talked
to
him
for
half
an
hour
?
What
did
you
talk
about
?
"
"
We
talked
about
Browning
's
poetry
.
"
"
Browning
's
poetry
!
"
with
a
disgusted
accent
.
"
What
a
bore
for
you
!
I
thought
that
of
course
you
would
have
talked
about
me
!
"
"
Bore
!
"
repeats
Belinda
,
with
a
sort
of
bitter
animation
.
"
I
thought
it
such
a
blessing
.
I
did
not
want
to
talk
about
you
,
or
myself
either
,
or
granny
;
we
are
always
talking
about
you
and
myself
and
granny
.
It
was
such
a
relief
to
get
away
once
in
a
while
from
people
,
and
turn
to
things
!
"
"
I
must
say
that
Browning
is
a
great
deal
too
clever
for
me
,
"
puts
in
Mrs.
Churchill
contentedly
.
"
I
am
very
fond
of
poetry
;
but
I
like
something
that
I
can
understand
.
"
"
But
did
you
talk
about
nothing
but
Browning
's
poetry
?
"
inquires
Sarah
,
incredulously
lifting
her
eyebrows
.
"
Did
you
talk
about
it
the
whole
time
?
"
"
We
had
hardly
exhausted
the
subject
in
half
an
hour
,
"
replies
Belinda
,
with
a
disagreeable
sneer
.
"
And
then
he
read
aloud
;
he
was
asked
to
read
aloud
!
"
"
And
you
all
sat
round
worshipping
!
"
exclaims
Sarah
,
breaking
into
new
laughter
.
"
That
is
exactly
what
they
did
at
the
house
I
first
met
him
at
.
You
may
not
credit
it
,
but
I
sat
round
worshipping
too
!
"
"
They
were
rather
fulsome
!
"
replies
Belinda
,
her
lip
curling
at
the
recollection
.
"
And
what
did
he
read
?
Did
he
read
anything
amusing
?
But
of
course
he
did
not
!
"
"
He
read
'
The
Grammarian
's
Funeral
.
"
'
"
'
The
Grammarian
's
Funeral
'
!
"
repeats
Mrs.
Churchill
with
a
shrug
.
"
What
a
name
for
a
poem
!
"
"
'
The
Grammarian
's
Funeral
'
!
"
echoes
Sarah
,
but
with
an
emotion
different
from
her
grandmother
's
colouring
her
tone
.
"
That
was
the
very
poem
he
read
the
night
I
first
met
him
.
I
could
not
make
head
or
tail
of
it
;
but
I
pretended
that
I
thought
it
very
fine
.
Belinda
,
beware
!
or
this
family
may
have
a
second
time
cause
to
rue
that
that
Grammarian
ever
was
buried
!
"
"
How
curious
,
your
meeting
him
!
"
said
Mrs.
Churchill
,
with
an
amused
,
leisurely
smile
.
"
How
it
must
have
reminded
you
of
Dresden
!
"
Belinda
shudders
a
little
.
There
is
so
much
need
to
remind
her
of
Dresden
!
And
yet
she
herself
has
been
surprised
at
the
extra
vividness
with
which
the
sight
and
bodily
presence
of
one
of
the
subordinate
actors
in
the
little
drama
enacted
there
has
brought
it
back
to
her
.
Is
her
memory
growing
habitually
dull
?
Oh
,
if
it
but
were
so
!
"
Is
his
mother
alive
still
?
"
asks
Sarah
,
striking
hastily
in
to
divert
the
conversation
from
the
channel
into
which
her
grandmother
seems
disposed
to
direct
it
.
"
I
hope
you
were
not
behindhand
in
civility
;
and
that
as
he
remembered
to
ask
after
our
old
lady
,
you
remembered
to
ask
after
his
.
"
"
I
did
not
;
I
thought
she
might
be
dead
,
but
I
do
not
think
she
is
.
He
mentioned
her
;
he
said
something
about
'
My
mother
.
"
'
"
Then
of
course
she
is
not
dead
!
"
answers
Sarah
decisively
;
"
if
she
had
been
he
would
have
said
,
'
My
poor
mother
!
'
Granny
,
when
you
are
dead
,
I
mean
always
to
talk
of
you
as
'
my
poor
granny
!
"
'
"
Do
you
indeed
,
my
dear
!
"
rather
sharply
.
"
Let
me
tell
you
that
I
have
no
intention
of
giving
you
the
opportunity
just
yet
.
"
"
Did
he
say
anything
about
coming
to
call
?
"
asks
Sarah
,
with
an
interested
look
.
"
Not
a
word
.
"
"
Did
he
give
you
the
impression
that
he
was
contemplating
it
?
"
"
Not
in
the
least
.
"
"
Do
you
think
that
he
will
?
"
"
I
should
think
certainly
not
;
indeed
he
is
going
back
to
Oxbridge
to-morrow
.
I
wish
I
were
going
to
Oxbridge
to-morrow
!
I
wish
,
"
restlessly
,
"
that
we
lived
at
Oxbridge
.
"
"
To
be
near
him
?
"
asks
Sarah
,
laughing
.
Her
sister
joins
in
the
laugh
,
but
without
heartiness
.
"
Not
exactly
;
but
from
what
he
says
—
from
what
everyone
says
—
there
must
be
such
a
continual
stir
of
intellectual
life
going
on
there
.
"
"
Good
Heavens
!
"
cries
Sarah
,
shocked
;
"
what
has
happened
to
you
?
You
are
growing
to
talk
just
as
he
does
;
those
are
the
kind
of
things
he
used
to
say
to
me
,
and
expect
me
to
provide
them
with
suitable
answers
!
"
"
It
does
sound
high
falutin
'
,
"
answers
Belinda
,
rather
ashamed
;
"
but
it
is
not
,
really
:
it
is
only
that
I
would
give
anything
to
get
out
of
our
own
little
groove
into
any
other
.
"
"
I
like
our
little
groove
,
"
says
Sarah
contentedly
;
"
by-the-bye
,
that
reminds
me
—
Jane
,
where
are
you
?
Jane
,
how
dare
you
?
How
can
you
be
so
indelicate
as
to
present
yourself
half
dressed
to
Punch
and
Slutty
?
Come
here
this
instant
.
"
But
Jane
,
though
giving
a
slavish
leer
and
a
sycophantic
wag
of
her
disfigured
tail
,
makes
no
movement
towards
exchanging
her
warm
couch
on
the
deep
rug
for
the
uncomfortable
glories
of
the
palette
and
the
brush
.
"
It
may
not
be
a
bad
little
groove
for
those
who
like
it
,
"
rejoins
Belinda
discontentedly
;
"
but
it
is
pleasant
to
get
a
glimpse
beyond
it
now
and
then
.
I
do
not
know
when
I
have
been
so
little
bored
as
I
have
been
this
afternoon
.
"
CHAPTER
II
.
She
says
the
same
thing
to
herself
in
the
solitude
of
her
own
room
—
that
solitude
where
the
least
truthful
speaks
truth
.
She
says
it
again
when
she
awakes
next
morning
.
Is
it
possible
that
an
avenue
to
renewed
interest
in
life
may
be
opening
before
her
?
Others
—
Professor
Forth
,
for
instance
—
have
lived
and
live
by
the
intellect
;
live
to
all
appearance
worthily
and
contentedly
.
Why
may
not
she
too
?
What
—
her
heart
being
stone-dead
—
is
there
to
prevent
her
?
"
If
you
please
,
'
m
,
"
says
Tommy
next
day
in
the
afternoon
,
appearing
in
the
doorway
of
the
little
back
sitting-room
,
litter-room
,
dirt-hole
,
where
a
special
cause
has
gathered
the
three
ladies
of
the
Churchill
family
,
"
there
is
a
gentleman
from
Higgins
and
Rawson
in
the
hall
.
"
It
is
a
new
Tommy
;
the
old
one
,
having
bloomed
out
into
increased
size
and
new
vices
,
has
been
superseded
;
a
new
Tommy
with
a
cherub
face
,
but
an
education
for
his
profession
that
as
yet
leaves
much
to
be
desired
.
"
A
gentleman
from
Higgins
and
Rawson
!
"
repeats
Mrs.
Churchill
indignantly
;
"
there
are
no
gentlemen
at
Higgins
and
Rawson
's
—
it
is
a
haberdasher
's
shop
!
Ask
him
his
business
.
"
The
cherub
retires
,
trembling
,
and
his
mistress
's
attention
returns
to
the
object
from
which
his
entrance
had
diverted
it
;
the
object
which
has
called
both
herself
and
her
granddaughters
hither
.
It
is
the
washing
of
the
dogs
,
a
function
periodically
celebrated
and
revelled
in
by
Sarah
.
Jane
is
already
washed
;
she
is
a
pushing
dog
,
always
putting
herself
forward
,
and
claiming
the
chief
seats
in
the
synagogues
.
Candescently
white
,
cleansed
from
stain
of
indigo
and
ochre
,
no
longer
comic
,
but
gravely
beautiful
,
she
lies
in
glory
,
drying
on
a
blanket
.
It
is
now
the
martyred
Slutty
who
is
in
the
wash-tub
,
dripping
resignedly
,
while
Sarah
's
strong
white
arm
is
employed
in
vigorously
scrubbing
her
fat
back
,
and
the
soapsuds
are
falling
into
her
dreadfully
goggling
eyes
.
Punch
is
seated
in
a
deep
dejection
not
usual
with
him
a
good
distance
off
,
well
aware
that
his
fate
also
is
hurrying
to
over-
take
him
,
but
trying
to
imagine
that
he
may
avoid
it
by
remaining
seated
in
the
middle
distance
,
and
totally
refusing
to
reply
when
addressed
.
Belinda
sits
by
,
occasionally
lending
a
helping
hand
when
Slutty
struggles
,
and
occasionally
turning
a
page
of
the
volume
of
Browning
,
which
,
in
pursuance
of
her
intention
of
living
henceforth
by
the
intellect
,
lies
open
on
her
knees
.
Tommy
has
again
appeared
.
"
If
you
please
,
'
m
,
there
is
a
lady
with
a
tambourine
—
"
"
A
lady
with
a
tambourine
!
"
repeats
Mrs.
Churchill
,
in
an
awful
voice
.
"
What
do
you
mean
,
Tommy
?
Ladies
do
not
play
tambourines
about
the
streets
!
You
mean
a
woman
with
a
tambourine
!
Send
her
away
.
"
A
second
time
Tommy
retires
discomfited
,
but
not
for
long
.
After
a
short
absence
he
returns
.
"
If
you
please
,
'
m
,
there
is
a
person
in
the
hall
wishes
to
speak
to
you
.
"
"
A
person
!
"
echoes
Mrs.
Churchill
commendingly
.
"
Come
,
that
is
better
!
A
shopman
,
I
suppose
!
Did
he
say
what
shop
had
sent
him
?
"
"
Please
,
'
m
,
I
do
not
think
he
is
a
gentleman
from
—
I
do
not
think
he
is
from
a
shop
at
all
.
He
said
his
name
was
Forth
,
and
asked
me
to
give
you
this
card
"
(
presenting
one
)
.
As
her
eyes
fall
upon
it
,
Mrs.
Churchill
jumps
up
with
a
little
shriek
.
"
Good
Heavens
!
"
she
cries
,
aghast
,
"
it
is
Professor
Forth
!
What
do
you
mean
,
Tommy
,
by
calling
him
a
'
person
,
'
and
leaving
him
in
the
hall
?
Show
him
up
to
the
drawing-room
at
once
!
"
"
Please
,
'
m
,
"
replies
Tommy
,
whimpering
,
"
you
said
as
how
I
was
not
to
call
'
em
gentlemen
.
"
"
So
he
has
come
!
"
cries
Sarah
,
in
a
rather
triumphant
voice
,
raising
a
beaming
face
from
the
middle
of
the
steam
and
suds
.
"
Do
not
you
think
he
would
like
to
see
the
dogs
washed
?
"
"
I
cannot
think
what
has
brought
him
,
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
,
in
a
vexed
voice
;
"
that
class
of
people
has
no
tact
.
I
never
could
find
a
word
to
say
to
him
.
Now
,
pray
,
Sarah
,
do
not
make
a
fool
of
him
again
!
It
is
all
very
well
for
you
,
but
you
do
not
reflect
what
a
nuisance
he
is
to
Belinda
and
me
!
"
"
He
is
no
nuisance
to
me
!
"
replies
Belinda
coldly
;
"
I
am
glad
he
has
come
.
I
wanted
to
talk
to
him
!
I
do
not
think
he
has
come
to
see
Sarah
;
I
think
he
has
come
to
see
me
!
"
She
says
it
with
cool
,
positive
,
indifferent
composure
.
With
as
much
coolness
,
as
much
indifference
,
as
much
composure
,
she
walks
up
the
stairs
and
into
the
drawing-
room
,
pursued
by
her
sister
's
message
:
"
Tell
him
that
I
am
coming
directly
,
but
that
,
with
me
,
even
Love
cedes
to
Duty
,
and
I
must
finish
washing
Slutty
.
"
Mr.
Forth
is
looking
towards
the
door
as
Belinda
enters
;
and
an
indescribable
air
of
relief
steals
over
his
countenance
when
he
perceives
that
she
is
alone
.
"
I
have
taken
the
liberty
of
calling
,
"
he
begins
formally
;
but
she
interrupts
him
.
"
I
am
glad
to
see
you
,
"
she
says
,
with
a
direct
look
of
cold
sincerity
.
"
I
wanted
to
talk
to
you
.
Will
you
sit
down
?
"
And
yet
,
now
that
the
opportunity
for
gratifying
that
want
has
come
,
she
seems
for
a
while
to
lack
the
power
.
According
to
his
chilly
wont
,
he
has
chosen
the
seat
nearest
the
fire
,
opposite
the
window
,
and
she
has
placed
herself
on
the
other
side
.
As
she
looks
in
his
face
,
a
cataract
of
agonizing
memories
pours
storming
over
her
heart
.
In
the
throng
and
bustle
of
last
night
,
memory
had
not
been
half
so
busy
.
She
had
thought
that
she
could
see
him
without
pain
;
with
only
that
dull
numbness
with
which
she
sees
small
and
great
.
But
now
she
finds
that
for
her
in
each
wrinkle
traced
by
thought
about
his
eyes
—
in
each
pucker
of
discontent
around
his
lips
—
there
lurks
a
demon
of
recollection
.
The
little
wintry
,
fog-thickened
London
drawing-room
has
changed
to
the
sunny
Dresden
salon
.
It
is
full
again
of
Sarah
's
pungent
pleasantries
at
her
lover
's
cost
,
and
of
Rivers
'
resounding
laughs
at
them
.
A
hundred
worthless
speeches
of
Rivers
'
,
ridiculing
the
other
's
foibles
,
his
muffetees
,
his
parsimony
,
his
digestion
—
speeches
trivial
and
merry
when
spoken
,
now
solemn
and
woful
—
rush
back
upon
her
mind
.
Oh
,
if
her
heart
should
turn
out
not
to
be
stone-dead
after
all
!
But
it
must
!
—
it
must
!
—
it
shall
!
Her
silence
has
lasted
longer
than
she
is
aware
,
and
there
is
a
slight
tone
of
offence
—
to
that
,
too
,
a
memory
is
tied
—
in
her
visitor
's
voice
,
as
he
says
:
"
I
hope
I
have
not
chosen
an
inopportune
moment
for
my
visit
?
"
"
Not
at
all
!
not
at
all
!
"
she
answers
hastily
;
but
the
composure
with
which
she
had
entered
the
room
,
had
first
addressed
him
,
is
gone
;
a
fever
has
come
into
her
cheek
,
and
a
hurry
into
her
words
.
"
As
I
told
you
,
I
am
glad
to
see
you
.
I
want
to
talk
to
you
.
Why
have
not
you
gone
back
to
Oxbridge
?
"
"
I
am
to
return
by
the
4.45
train
,
"
he
replies
;
"
and
I
thought
that
I
could
not
better
utilize
the
moments
left
me
than
by
—
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
I
understand
,
"
she
cries
,
brusquely
pushing
aside
his
civilities
.
"
I
want
to
ask
you
—
I
want
you
to
tell
me
—
I
suppose
that
you
are
a
competent
judge
—
is
not
it
quite
possible
for
a
person
to
live
entirely
by
the
intellect
?
"
He
looks
at
her
doubtfully
.
Such
a
question
in
the
mouth
of
a
Churchill
his
experience
of
Sarah
has
taught
him
profoundly
to
distrust
.
"
I
mean
,
"
she
says
,
nervously
plucking
at
the
Japanese
hand-screen
that
she
has
taken
up
to
shade
her
face
—
hot
,
but
not
with
fire
heat
—
"
I
mean
,
"
panting
a
little
,
"
do
not
you
think
that
that
is
the
best
life
—
the
most
satisfactory
on
the
whole
—
the
least
liable
to
interruption
and
disappointment
—
that
is
built
upon
—
upon
—
books
,
you
know
—
upon
the
—
the
mind
!
"
"
You
must
be
aware
,
"
he
answers
frigidly
,
"
that
the
whole
tendency
of
my
teaching
is
to
show
that
the
pursuit
of
knowledge
is
the
only
one
that
really
and
abundantly
rewards
the
labour
bestowed
upon
it
.
"
"
You
think
so
?
"
she
answers
breathlessly
,
leaning
eagerly
forward
,
and
fixing
her
large
heart-hungry
eyes
upon
him
.
"
You
think
that
it
would
be
enough
—
that
it
would
satisfy
one
—
that
one
would
not
need
anything
beyond
?
"
There
is
an
inexpressibly
sorrowful
yearning
in
the
accent
with
which
she
pronounces
this
last
phrase
.
Oh
,
if
he
could
but
furnish
her
with
this
anodyne
,
how
she
would
fall
on
her
knees
and
bless
him
!
"
Since
there
is
no
limit
to
the
domain
of
the
knowable
,
"
he
is
beginning
,
when
again
she
breaks
in
upon
him
:
"
No
,
no
!
of
course
not
!
I
understand
!
But
how
to
get
at
it
,
that
is
the
question
!
I
thought
—
I
imagined
—
I
hoped
—
that
perhaps
you
might
help
me
—
might
direct
me
!
"
Again
he
looks
at
her
suspiciously
.
Is
not
this
the
very
same
request
with
which
the
mendacious
Sarah
had
opened
her
fire
upon
him
?
Is
this
a
thirst
for
learning
of
the
same
character
,
and
that
is
likely
to
be
quenched
with
the
same
surprising
ease
?
"
Of
course
,
"
she
goes
on
hastily
,
mistaking
the
source
of
his
hesitation
,
"
I
cannot
expect
you
to
waste
much
time
upon
me
;
but
I
thought
that
—
that
—
perhaps
,
you
might
be
inclined
to
set
me
on
the
way
;
to
—
to
—
lend
me
a
book
or
two
every
now
and
then
.
"
"
I
am
not
in
the
habit
of
lending
books
,
"
he
answers
,
still
suspiciously
;
"
but
I
should
be
happy
to
make
an
exception
in
your
favour
,
were
I
convinced
that
your
desire
for
self-education
were
a
genuine
one
.
"
"
Genuine
!
"
she
cries
,
indignant
and
astonished
.
"
Why
,
what
else
should
it
be
?
What
motive
could
I
have
for
feigning
it
?
"
A
slight
look
of
embarrassment
,
mixed
with
mortification
,
crosses
his
face
.
"
You
cannot
have
forgotten
,
"
he
says
,
"
the
interest
in
literature
counterfeited
by
your
sister
—
"
He
stops
suddenly
;
for
,
as
if
the
mention
of
her
had
conjured
up
her
bodily
presence
,
at
the
same
instant
she
enters
,
protected
by
her
grandmother
and
by
a
tempest
of
clean
dogs
.
"
How
are
you
?
"
cries
she
,
holding
out
her
hand
to
him
with
the
same
easy
,
jovial
smile
as
if
they
had
parted
yesterday
on
the
best
of
terms
.
No
confusion
born
of
the
recollection
of
their
last
meeting
troubles
her
good-humour
.
No
doubt
as
to
the
present
visit
being
addressed
to
her
ruffles
her
mind
.
None
such
apparently
results
from
the
precipitancy
with
which
,
upon
her
entry
,
her
ex-lover
begins
to
seek
his
hat
,
and
murmur
of
his
train
.
"
And
about
the
books
?
"
says
Belinda
,
with
a
hesitating
wistfulness
when
her
turn
comes
to
be
bidden
good-bye
to
.
"
You
will
not
forget
about
the
books
?
"
It
seems
to
her
as
if
he
were
carrying
off
her
new
,
faint
,
feverish
hope
with
him
,
and
she
cannot
let
it
go
without
a
struggle
.
"
I
will
think
of
it
,
"
he
answers
hurriedly
,
with
a
distrustful
glance
at
Sarah
;
"
I
—
I
will
let
you
know
.
"
"
What
about
books
?
"
asks
Sarah
inquisitively
,
as
soon
as
the
door
has
closed
upon
him
.
"
Is
he
going
to
lend
you
books
?
The
old
villain
!
it
was
with
books
that
he
first
beguiled
my
young
affections
.
I
believe
that
he
is
like
Jacob
:
not
having
been
able
to
obtain
Rachel
,
he
is
going
to
try
and
put
up
with
Leah
!
eh
,
Leah
?
"
"
What
an
untidy
way
he
has
of
sitting
!
"
says
Mrs.
Churchill
pettishly
,
advancing
to
set
right
the
chair
lately
occupied
by
their
guest
;
"
these
loose
chair-covers
are
a
mistake
.
I
am
sure
I
hope
that
he
will
be
in
no
hurry
to
repeat
his
visit
.
One
thing
is
certain
;
not
one
of
us
expressed
the
slightest
wish
to
see
him
again
!
"
"
If
I
did
not
express
it
,
I
felt
it
,
"
answers
Belinda
perversely
.
"
I
wish
to
see
him
again
.
"
Mrs.
Churchill
's
sole
response
is
a
silent
shrug
,
a
mode
lately
adopted
by
her
and
Sarah
of
receiving
the
starts
and
frets
of
Belinda
's
temper
—
that
temper
once
so
smooth
and
sweet
—
a
mode
of
expressing
that
they
are
to
be
endured
,
not
argued
with
.
"
How
curiously
ugly
he
is
!
"
cries
Sarah
,
chuckling
at
the
recollection
.
"
I
could
hardly
help
laughing
when
I
looked
at
him
.
He
is
like
Charles
Lamb
's
Mrs.
Conrady
:
'
No
one
ever
saw
Mrs.
Conrady
without
pronouncing
her
to
be
the
plainest
woman
that
he
ever
met
with
in
the
course
of
his
life
.
The
first
time
that
you
are
indulged
with
a
sight
of
her
face
is
an
era
in
your
existence
ever
after
.
You
are
glad
to
have
seen
it
—
like
Stonehenge
!
'
"
Mrs.
Churchill
laughs
lazily
.
"
What
a
memory
you
have
,
child
!
"
"
I
can
go
on
,
if
you
like
,
"
continues
Sarah
,
encouraged
by
this
praise
.
"
'
No
one
can
pretend
to
forget
it
.
No
one
ever
apologized
to
her
for
meeting
her
in
the
street
on
such
a
day
and
not
knowing
her
;
the
pretext
would
be
too
bare
.
"
'
"
You
have
always
grossly
underrated
him
,
"
says
Belinda
severely
;
"
there
is
a
side
of
him
,
an
intellectual
side
,
which
you
are
totally
incapable
of
appreciating
!
"
"
Totally
!
"
assents
her
sister
placidly
;
"
and
so
,
I
hoped
,
were
you
!
"
"
At
least
I
know
that
it
is
there
!
"
cries
Belinda
angrily
,
beginning
to
walk
restlessly
about
the
room
after
a
fashion
that
she
has
adopted
during
the
last
year
—
a
fashion
that
is
somewhat
trying
to
her
housemates
'
patience
.
"
I
recognize
it
;
I
admit
it
;
I
would
imitate
it
if
I
could
!
"
"
Since
when
?
"
asks
Sarah
drily
.
There
is
something
in
her
apparently
harmless
question
which
jars
upon
Belinda
's
sick
nerves
.
"
It
is
very
hard
,
"
she
breaks
out
,
reddening
,
"
that
one
should
be
thrown
back
and
ridiculed
here
,
when
one
makes
any
least
effort
to
improve
one
's
self
!
What
is
the
use
of
making
any
attempt
in
such
an
atmosphere
as
this
?
What
is
the
use
of
struggling
—
of
trying
—
"
She
bursts
into
stormy
tears
,
and
leaves
the
room
.
"
Her
temper
is
becoming
impossible
!
"
exclaims
Mrs.
Churchill
,
holding
up
her
pretty
,
old
white
hands
.
But
Sarah
only
says
,
"
Poor
dear
!
"
in
a
very
lenient
voice
,
and
kisses
all
the
dogs
.
CHAPTER
III
.
The
year
declines
towards
its
mirk
close
.
Every
day
a
little
more
is
taken
from
the
light
and
added
to
the
dark
.
London
is
full
and
cheerful
;
with
a
pleasanter
,
friendlier
,
more
leisurely
social
stir
than
the
overpowering
June
one
.
Two
or
three
good
pieces
are
running
at
the
theatres
,
and
the
shop-windows
are
warm
with
furs
.
Round
the
Churchills
a
crop
of
small
dinners
and
dances
has
sprung
up
.
The
time
nears
mid-December
.
Mrs.
Churchill
's
wish
as
to
the
non-repetition
of
Professor
Forth
's
visit
has
met
with
the
usual
fate
of
wishes
.
He
has
come
again
repeatedly
;
so
repeatedly
that
the
dogs
have
ceased
barking
at
him
,
though
they
are
not
so
hypocritical
as
to
wag
their
tails
on
his
approach
;
nor
,
indeed
,
does
he
ever
,
by
kind
pats
or
well-chosen
civilities
,
give
them
any
cause
to
do
so
.
Even
the
obtuse
Tommy
has
learned
that
he
is
to
be
shown
,
not
into
the
drawing-room
,
but
into
the
little
back
litter-room
,
which
has
been
arbitrarily
cleared
of
Sarah
's
paint-
pots
,
and
the
promiscuous
rubbish
in
which
her
soul
delights
;
has
been
furnished
with
pens
,
ink
,
and
dictionaries
,
and
raised
and
dignified
by
the
name
of
study
.
For
Belinda
's
fervour
for
learning
rages
with
a
feverish
heat
that
might
make
a
thoughtful
looker-on
inclined
to
question
its
solidity
or
its
continuance
.
She
is
learning
Latin
Syntax
;
she
is
being
taught
Greek
;
she
has
undertaken
a
course
of
Universal
History
;
she
devotes
her
spare
moments
to
the
Elements
of
Algebra
.
Very
seldom
now
does
she
join
her
family
in
the
evening
.
Mostly
she
remains
downstairs
,
writing
Latin
Exercises
,
learning
Irregular
Greek
Verbs
;
working
,
working
on
until
late
into
the
night
.
She
would
like
never
to
stop
;
to
leave
no
single
chink
or
cranny
by
which
memory
may
enter
.
And
is
the
charm
working
?
Is
the
remedy
beginning
to
make
its
healing
virtue
felt
?
This
is
the
question
that
she
never
dares
ask
herself
.
Sometimes
,
indeed
,
it
thrusts
itself
upon
her
in
the
sadness
of
the
night
.
Sometimes
the
pen
drops
from
her
stiffened
fingers
,
or
her
tired
brain
relaxes
its
hold
upon
the
hardconned
page
,
and
she
groans
out
to
herself
—
she
alone
awake
,
with
her
melancholy
gas-jet
burning
above
her
in
the
silence
of
the
sleeping
house
—
"
Of
what
use
?
what
use
?
"
Has
it
given
back
to
life
its
sweet
and
wholesome
taste
?
Has
it
helped
her
to
dominate
that
terrible
irritability
which
makes
no
person
and
no
moment
safe
from
some
senseless
outbreak
of
her
temper
?
Has
it
conquered
that
gloom
which
renders
her
the
kill-joy
of
her
little
circle
.
There
is
not
one
of
these
questions
that
she
can
honestly
answer
in
the
affirmative
.
But
perhaps
there
has
not
yet
been
time
enough
to
test
the
efficacy
of
this
cure
.
Its
action
will
doubtless
be
slow
,
but
all
the
more
lasting
and
solid
for
that
.
She
must
persevere
;
it
would
be
madness
not
to
persevere
.
She
passes
her
hand
across
her
weary
,
throbbing
temples
,
and
catches
up
the
pen
again
.
The
clocks
strike
two
,
and
she
still
writes
.
It
is
not
night
now
;
it
is
afternoon
.
Mrs.
Churchill
and
Sarah
,
furred
and
feathered
,
with
their
bonnets
nicely
tied
on
,
and
their
faces
alight
with
placid
good-humour
,
have
set
off
in
the
brougham
on
their
daily
career
of
calls
and
shops
.
Belinda
remains
behind
in
the
little
dingy
back
room
,
with
her
copy-books
.
Not
once
to-day
has
she
tasted
the
wholesome
outside
air
—
wholesome
with
all
its
blacks
,
and
fog-charged
as
it
is
.
She
has
been
alone
here
the
whole
day
,
except
for
a
couple
of
ten
minutes
grudgingly
snatched
for
breakfast
and
luncheon
.
She
has
been
alone
,
but
she
is
so
no
longer
.
Professor
Forth
has
just
been
ushered
in
to
partake
her
solitude
.
She
meets
him
with
a
complaint
.
"
I
expected
you
yesterday
.
"
"
I
was
detained
by
a
College
meeting
,
and
by
other
engagements
,
"
he
answers
.
"
I
hope
,
"
ceremoniously
,
"
that
you
were
not
inconvenienced
by
the
deferring
of
my
visit
?
"
"
I
was
,
"
she
answered
brusquely
.
"
As
it
happened
,
I
wanted
you
badly
.
I
was
completely
puzzled
by
a
passage
here
,
"
laying
her
hand
upon
a
school
edition
of
"
Cæsar
's
Commentaries
.
"
"
I
worried
over
it
till
I
felt
quite
dazed
and
woolly
.
"
As
she
speaks
she
draws
the
volume
towards
her
,
and
they
both
stoop
their
heads
over
the
page
;
his
with
its
old
,
sparse
,
colourless
hair
,
thriftily
drawn
across
the
baldening
crown
;
hers
with
its
unregarded
riches
of
nut-brown
.
The
difficulty
dissipated
,
she
leans
back
in
her
chair
.
"
It
is
hopeless
to
make
any
real
progress
,
"
she
says
morosely
,
"
as
long
as
our
lessons
are
so
interrupted
.
How
much
better
it
would
be
if
we
lived
in
Oxbridge
!
How
I
wish
we
lived
in
Oxbridge
!
"
She
is
sitting
alongside
of
him
,
and
does
not
look
at
him
as
she
expresses
this
wish
.
It
seems
to
be
addressed
with
a
general
vagueness
to
the
air
.
He
glances
at
her
,
sidelong
and
suspiciously
;
at
the
beautiful
blooming
profile
,
the
discontented
mouth
,
the
fine
,
petulant
,
small
nose
,
the
veiled
,
unglad
eyes
.
He
has
almost
given
up
suspecting
her
of
late
,
but
her
last
aspiration
has
rearoused
his
distrust
.
Was
not
Sarah
once
fervent
and
constant
in
her
longings
to
inhabit
a
university
town
?
"
It
would
make
things
so
much
easier
,
"
she
continues
plaintively
,
quite
unconscious
of
his
disquieting
doubts
.
"
If
I
were
in
difficulties
I
could
go
straight
to
you
.
I
had
much
rather
live
in
Oxbridge
than
here
.
"
He
is
still
observing
her
covertly
,
and
makes
no
answer
.
"
It
must
be
a
good
life
!
"
she
says
,
with
the
same
restless
longing
as
a
sick
person
's
for
strange
food
;
"
so
full
of
intelligent
interests
,
so
absorbing
,
and
must
take
one
so
out
of
one
's
self
!
"
As
she
speaks
she
clasps
both
hands
at
the
back
of
her
neck
,
and
stares
dreamily
up
at
the
ceiling
.
He
has
moved
his
eyes
away
from
her
.
Perhaps
they
are
satisfied
with
the
result
of
their
investigation
.
They
now
look
straight
before
him
on
Cæsar
's
open
page
.
Upon
his
fingers
he
balances
a
paper-knife
,
and
an
unusual
expression
has
crept
about
his
narrow
lips
.
"
If
you
are
sincere
in
your
desire
for
a
—
"
he
begins
rather
slowly
;
but
she
breaks
in
upon
him
hotly
.
"
Sincere
!
"
she
repeats
,
with
an
angry
intonation
;
"
I
cannot
imagine
why
you
preface
all
your
remarks
with
a
doubt
of
my
sincerity
!
What
could
I
possibly
gain
by
being
insincere
?
"
She
looks
at
him
full
and
irately
as
she
speaks
,
and
their
eyes
meet
;
the
dull
old
cautious
eyes
,
and
the
unhappy
flashing
young
ones
.
"
If
my
phrase
offends
you
,
I
will
change
it
!
"
he
answers
formally
.
"
Since
you
are
sincere
in
your
desire
for
a
—
"
But
again
he
breaks
off
.
There
is
a
ring
at
the
door-bell
.
"
You
have
visitors
,
"
he
says
,
in
an
annoyed
voice
.
"
We
shall
be
interrupted
.
"
"
No
,
we
shall
not
,
"
she
replies
,
shaking
her
head
.
"
Tommy
knows
that
when
you
are
here
,
I
am
not
at
home
to
anyone
.
"
It
is
a
sentence
susceptible
of
a
flattering
interpretation
,
that
,
indeed
,
would
seem
to
bear
no
other
,
but
it
is
uttered
as
such
indifferent
matter-of-fact
that
he
would
be
indeed
a
coxcomb
who
was
elated
by
it
.
"
Please
go
on
,
"
smiling
faintly
.
"
Since
I
am
sincere
in
my
desire
for
—
what
?
"
But
apparently
he
has
lost
the
thread
of
his
twice-begun
speech
.
"
Your
servant
must
have
mistaken
your
directions
,
"
he
says
,
with
a
vexed
look
;
"
he
is
evidently
admitting
some
one
.
"
Both
listen
,
and
as
she
listens
Belinda
's
colour
changes
.
"
If
we
were
at
Dresden
,
"
she
says
in
a
suppressed
and
troubled
voice
,
"
and
if
I
did
not
hope
that
it
were
impossible
,
I
should
say
that
the
voice
was
—
"
The
door
flies
open
.
"
Here
I
am
!
"
cries
Miss
Watson
,
bursting
into
the
room
,
in
apparently
the
identical
large
black
and
white
plaid
gown
and
grizzled
fringe
,
and
in
certainly
the
same
burly
red
face
—
perhaps
a
shade
worsened
by
the
battle
and
breeze
—
as
of
yore
.
She
is
not
ushered
in
,
but
helplessly
followed
by
the
baffled
Tommy
,
who
is
raising
his
puny
infant
voice
in
futile
protestations
,
as
his
predecessor
had
so
often
done
before
him
.
"
I
knew
by
Tommy
's
manner
that
you
were
at
home
!
"
cries
she
joyfully
.
"
By-the-bye
,
he
is
a
new
Tommy
!
What
have
you
done
with
the
old
one
?
I
would
not
give
him
my
card
;
I
said
,
'
No
,
I
will
surprise
them
!
'
"
She
has
succeeded
.
Both
Mr.
Forth
and
his
disciple
have
risen
to
their
feet
,
and
now
stand
regarding
their
visitor
with
a
—
for
the
first
moments
—
entirely
silent
dismay
.
"
Mr.
Forth
,
too
!
"
cries
Miss
Watson
,
snatching
his
reluctant
hand
.
"
Why
,
this
is
Dresden
over
again
!
If
we
had
but
Sarah
and
Rivers
here
,
we
might
think
ourselves
back
there
.
"
Neither
of
Belinda
's
companions
perceives
it
,
but
she
shudders
.
Ever
since
Miss
Watson
's
voice
first
fell
on
her
shocked
ears
,
she
has
known
that
she
would
have
to
endure
the
sound
of
Rivers
'
name
.
In
reality
not
two
minutes
have
elapsed
since
then
,
but
it
seems
to
her
as
if
for
hours
she
had
been
dreading
it
.
"
How
snug
you
are
!
"
says
the
visitor
,
patronizingly
looking
round
;
"
but
why
do
you
sit
here
?
Why
do
not
you
sit
in
the
drawing-room
?
Is
not
the
fire
lit
there
?
Oh
,
I
suppose
