Withoutlooking
,
Belinda
is
hotly
aware
that
a
pardonable
smile
has
stolen
over
the
features
of
more
than
one
of
the
listening
boys
,
at
the
publication
of
her
domestic
secrets
.
There
is
not
one
of
them
who
has
not
dropped
his
book
.
"
I
will
not
keep
you
any
longer
,
"
she
mutters
in
hasty
farewell
.
But
Miss
Watson
has
not
yet
done
with
her
.
"
You
should
have
told
the
Professor
that
you
owed
it
to
your
conscience
to
look
after
Sarah
,
"
cries
she
,
laughing
resonantly
.
"
Judging
by
what
I
saw
to-day
,
you
would
not
have
been
far
out
!
"
Belinda
's
cheek
,
hot
with
shame
a
moment
ago
,
grows
pale
.
The
impulse
to
flee
leaves
her
;
a
contrary
impulse
,
such
as
draws
the
palpitating
canary
to
the
cage-wires
and
the
cat
's
claws
,
roots
her
to
the
spot
.
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
she
asks
faltering
.
"
Was
she
"
—
lowering
her
voice
,
so
as
not
to
be
heard
by
anyone
else
,
hating
herself
for
descending
to
such
a
question
,
and
trying
to
carry
it
off
with
a
spurious
merriment
—
"
was
she
—
ha
!
ha
!
—
flirting
very
nefariously
with
them
all
?
"
"
With
them
all
!
"
repeats
the
other
in
loud
irony
.
"
Pooh
!
that
would
have
been
nothing
;
there
is
always
safety
in
numbers
.
The
others
were
nowhere
.
Rivers
had
it
all
his
own
way
!
"
This
is
what
Belinda
has
been
angling
to
hear
,
and
now
she
has
heard
it
.
It
is
not
then
the
figment
of
her
disordered
fancy
;
it
must
indeed
be
ovious
to
have
hit
the
eyes
of
so
coarse
and
casual
an
observer
as
Miss
Watson
.
Nor
does
the
recollection
of
how
much
she
had
profited
by
her
former
prompt
action
upon
information
derived
from
the
same
source
recur
to
her
memory
.
"
He
is
a
sad
dog
,
is
David
,
is
not
he
?
"
cries
the
other
jocosely
;
and
then
she
bumps
off
again
in
her
punt
,
bawling
,
as
she
floats
down
the
stream
,
to
her
oppressed
and
silent
boatman
.
CHAPTER
VIII
.
"
Le
monde
n'est
jamais
divisé
pour
moi
,
qu'en
deux
régions
;
celle
où
elle
est
,
et
celle
où
elle
n'est
pas
.
"
A
week
—
a
whole
week
—
only
a
week
!
There
are
two
opposing
ways
of
looking
at
this
or
any
other
period
of
time
;
one
of
impatient
marvelling
at
its
immensity
,
the
other
of
gasping
consternation
at
its
shortness
.
It
is
needless
to
ask
which
of
these
two
moods
is
Mrs.
Forth
's
,
with
regard
to
Rivers
'
holiday
.
Only
a
week
!
How
many
times
,
during
its
seven
days
,
does
she
,
with
that
all-answering
phrase
,
stop
conscience
's
mouth
?
Of
what
use
for
only
a
week
to
practise
self-government
?
of
what
use
for
only
a
week
to
question
,
with
too
nice
a
closeness
,
her
heart
as
to
the
cause
of
its
leapings
and
sinkings
?
her
temper
as
to
the
reason
of
its
endless
variabilities
?
her
thoughts
as
to
the
path
they
take
?
or
her
imagination
as
to
the
length
of
its
tether
?
Only
a
week
!
Too
short
a
space
to
do
anything
in
but
enjoy
—
to
enjoy
—
to
enjoy
!
With
eyes
resolutely
shut
to
the
cost
—
to
the
heavy
score
running
up
,
that
at
the
week
's
end
will
have
to
be
paid
.
Oh
,
not
too
short
to
enjoy
in
!
It
is
not
all
enjoyment
.
Already
,
before
two
days
of
it
are
past
,
it
has
been
marred
by
irksome
labour
,
by
balked
expectation
,
by
unreasoning
jealousy
—
a
jealousy
whose
unreason
she
herself
,
in
her
calmer
moments
,
recognises
;
which
in
Rivers
'
presence
dies
of
famine
,
having
less
than
nothing
to
live
upon
,
but
,
once
out
of
the
reassurance
of
his
eyes
,
revives
and
bulks
big
again
.
Rare
indeed
is
it
for
one
successful
excursion
not
to
engender
another
or
several
more
.
The
weather
holds
.
The
Professor
's
heart
or
liver
—
it
is
never
quite
clearly
understood
which
of
these
organs
is
affected
—
has
recovered
its
balance
,
upset
by
his
wife
's
Walpurgis
day
.
Belinda
has
three
consecutive
afternoons
of
freedom
—
three
afternoons
of
being
swiftly
pulled
down
the
river
,
that
brave
water-way
alive
with
vigorous
youthhood
—
of
gaily
drinking
tea
and
sucking
cider-cup
through
straws
at
little
river-side
alehouses
—
of
picking
the
freakish
fritillaries
in
the
meadows
—
of
being
towed
back
in
dreamy
languor
at
night-fall
or
star-rise
—
of
loitering
homewards
with
hands
full
of
flag-flowers
—
of
parting
at
the
garden
gate
.
To
that
parting
there
comes
,
each
evening
,
a
deeper
deadlier
sweetness
.
It
does
not
lie
in
words
.
There
is
not
one
word
that
,
did
the
Professor
protrude
his
velvetcapped
head
from
his
bower
window
,
need
be
withdrawn
.
Belinda
is
living
on
her
capital
.
At
the
week
's
end
she
will
be
bankrupt
;
let
her
then
be
merry
while
she
may
!
Perhaps
Sarah
acquiesces
in
her
sister
's
view
of
the
unimportance
of
any
course
of
action
that
must
be
compressed
into
so
short
a
period
of
time
as
a
week
.
Perhaps
,
being
in
her
way
wise
,
she
recognises
the
futility
of
interference
.
Perhaps
her
hands
are
too
full
of
her
own
affairs
to
have
much
time
or
attention
to
spare
for
her
sister
's
;
for
seldom
has
Miss
Churchill
been
in
such
amorous
straits
of
her
own
making
as
at
present
.
The
course
of
allurement
which
had
merely
warmed
up
the
heavy
German
soldiers
into
a
pleasant
and
manageable
tenderness
,
has
wrought
three
inflammable
English
boys
to
a
white
heat
.
Daily
,
and
in
proportion
as
their
inconvenient
ardour
for
Sarah
increases
,
does
their
friendship
for
each
other
—
close
and
warm
to
begin
with
—
decline
,
and
tend
towards
the
opposite
pole
of
animosity
.
On
the
last
expedition
but
one
,
she
dare
no
longer
accept
a
bunch
of
fritillaries
from
one
,
without
instantly
crowding
her
hands
with
a
similar
bunch
from
each
of
the
others
.
She
can
now
never
drink
less
than
three
cups
of
afternoon
tea
;
as
that
affords
to
each
an
opportunity
of
handing
her
one
.
Even
Bellairs
,
early
convinced
of
the
hopelessness
of
his
adoration
of
Mrs.
Forth
,
is
now
wholly
hers
,
far
more
wholly
indeed
than
she
at
all
wishes
.
"
I
am
fast
getting
to
hate
the
sight
of
them
!
"
she
cries
,
in
a
tone
more
nearly
approaching
tearful
vexation
than
is
often
to
be
heard
in
her
joyous
voice
,
as
she
and
her
sister
patrol
in
their
wonted
fashion
the
garden
,
on
the
morning
of
the
week
's
last
day
.
"
None
of
them
"
—
by
this
comprehensive
phrase
she
always
designates
the
noble
army
of
her
admirers
,
past
and
present
—
"
none
of
them
have
ever
given
me
half
so
much
trouble
;
why
cannot
they
understand
that
it
is
not
the
fox
I
care
for
,
but
the
chase
?
"
"
It
will
be
soon
over
,
"
replies
Belinda
slowly
.
She
says
it
as
a
consolation
to
her
sister
,
but
the
application
that
she
makes
is
to
herself
.
"
That
is
all
very
fine
,
"
replies
Sarah
gloomily
;
"
but
there
is
still
to-day
.
You
know
that
we
are
to
go
on
the
New
River
this
afternoon
;
and
in
a
weak
moment
I
promised
that
ugly
Bellairs
—
but
I
declare
,
"
with
a
burst
of
petulance
,
"
that
they
bother
me
so
that
I
do
not
know
whether
I
am
on
my
head
or
my
heels
—
that
he
should
scull
me
in
some
little
cockle-shell
—
a
dinghey
,
he
calls
it
—
he
and
I
,
and
nobody
by
,
you
know
,
"
with
a
laugh
of
annoyance
;
"
and
I
positively
dare
not
tell
the
others
.
What
am
I
to
do
?
I
suppose
,
"
with
something
of
her
old
sidling
,
coaxing
manner
,
"
that
you
would
not
care
to
break
it
to
them
?
"
Belinda
smiles
;
a
bitter
smile
of
recollection
.
"
As
I
was
to
break
to
Mr.
Forth
that
you
meant
to
jilt
him
?
Thank
you
!
I
think
not
!
"
It
is
true
that
the
last
day
has
come
;
and
the
last
excursion
.
All
through
the
previous
night
,
all
morning
,
Belinda
has
been
dogged
by
the
icy
terror
—
no
weaker
word
suffices
—
that
something
may
occur
to
prevent
it
.
She
has
asked
after
the
Professor
's
organs
,
with
a
solicitude
whose
treachery
makes
her
blush
.
The
very
unbearableness
of
the
idea
lends
it
a
horrid
probability
.
In
this
our
life
are
not
the
things
too
bad
to
be
faced
,
those
that
oftenest
happen
?
The
hour
comes
—
the
meeting
at
the
corner
(
never
again
have
the
enamoured
youths
ventured
across
the
threshold
of
the
house
they
have
desecrated
!
)
—
the
walk
to
the
river
.
Sarah
has
vainly
tried
to
hook
herself
on
to
her
sister
;
but
—
Bellairs
having
out-manoeuvred
his
fellows
,
and
compelled
them
to
content
themselves
with
the
chaperone
of
a
former
expedition
,
civilly
invited
to
complete
the
party
—
has
dropped
resignedly
behind
with
him
,
her
face
sufficiently
revealing
that
she
is
braced
for
the
worst
.
The
river
is
reached
.
In
the
choosing
the
boats
and
arranging
the
cushions
a
little
diversion
is
effected
,
which
gives
Sarah
the
opportunity
to
pluck
her
sister
by
the
sleeve
,
and
pull
her
aside
.
"
It
is
all
up
,
"
she
says
morosely
;
"
he
has
been
telling
me
as
we
came
along
,
that
if
he
read
my
eyes
aright
,
he
was
far
from
indifferent
to
me
!
"
"
And
you
?
what
did
you
say
?
"
"
What
did
I
say
?
"
(
in
a
tone
of
extreme
exasperation
,
and
yet
unwilling
amusement
)
.
"
I
told
him
that
he
had
read
them
awrong
;
but
"
—
with
a
rueful
glance
at
the
little
craft
now
being
made
ready
for
her
reception
—
"
you
must
perceive
that
the
dinghey
has
become
an
impossibility
;
what
is
to
be
done
?
There
is
not
room
for
us
all
in
the
other
;
quick
!
"
For
a
moment
Mrs.
Forth
looks
before
her
in
blank
perplexity
;
then
,
all
at
once
,
an
idea
,
habited
in
a
sudden
lovely
blush
,
rushes
into
her
mind
.
Why
not
?
Is
not
it
the
last
day
?
But
she
does
not
at
once
clothe
it
in
speech
.
Instead
:
"
Cannot
you
persuade
Mrs.
Baker
to
take
your
place
?
"
she
asks
.
Sarah
shrugs
her
shoulders
impatiently
.
"
She
would
not
hear
of
it
;
she
is
inclined
to
scream
in
a
punt
!
"
There
is
no
help
for
it
,
then
.
What
other
alternative
can
she
propose
?
It
is
no
fault
of
hers
;
accident
,
rather
—
fate
—
ill-luck
!
She
has
done
her
best
.
How
often
during
the
past
week
has
she
told
herself
that
she
has
done
her
best
!
"
I
suppose
,
then
,
that
I
must
sacrifice
myself
,
"
she
says
hurriedly
,
and
not
looking
at
her
sister
;
and
then
,
several
voices
at
once
calling
upon
them
,
they
rejoin
the
rest
of
the
party
.
In
a
moment
,
as
if
some
devil
were
behind
her
—
or
what
in
her
present
frame
of
mind
would
seem
to
her
both
more
dangerous
and
more
ugly
—
some
amorous
undergraduate
,
Sarah
has
,
to
ensure
herself
against
ambush
or
surprise
,
skipped
into
the
larger
boat
.
"
My
sister
's
courage
has
failed
her
,
"
says
Belinda
,
standing
flushed
and
downcast-eyed
on
the
bank
.
"
I
am
afraid
that
some
one
will
have
to
scull
me
instead
.
"
No
one
answers
,
and
she
steps
—
some
one
giving
her
a
hand
—
into
the
dinghey
.
Some
one
instantly
follows
her
,
and
takes
up
the
sculls
.
It
is
not
till
they
are
well
out
in
the
stream
,
and
not
immediately
even
then
,
that
she
lifts
her
eyes
.
A
sort
of
shame
weighs
them
down
.
The
manoeuvre
was
none
of
hers
;
and
yet
it
is
by
a
manoeuvre
that
she
has
secured
this
final
tête-à-tête
with
him
.
She
does
not
even
know
whether
it
is
in
accordance
with
his
wishes
that
she
has
acted
.
He
has
expressed
no
pleasure
in
the
arrangement
;
perhaps
—
her
jealousy
awaked
in
a
moment
from
its
always
light
sleep
—
he
is
vexed
to
have
been
baulked
of
Sarah
's
company
.
Perhaps
,
even
now
,
he
is
silently
fighting
with
his
disappointment
.
She
snatches
a
fugitive
glance
at
him
—
a
glance
that
,
in
an
instant
,
is
turned
away
again
;
for
it
has
told
her
what
she
wished
to
learn
.
The
cause
of
his
dumbness
is
one
which
does
not
very
often
make
us
speechless
in
this
our
life
.
He
cannot
speak
for
joy
.
She
leans
back
satisfied
and
smiling
.
The
New
River
is
narrower
,
less
of
a
great
highway
than
the
old
one
.
Here
are
no
imperative
Eights
,
out
of
whose
way
all
lesser
boats
must
clear
,
under
penalty
of
being
apostrophized
by
a
ferocious
"
Look
ahead
,
sir
!
"
and
then
run
down
.
And
yet
there
is
no
lack
of
company
here
either
,
on
this
splendid
summer
day
.
Above
,
the
pale
bright
sky
,
holding
her
forget-me-not-coloured
shield
;
and
below
,
the
windings
of
the
slow
broad
river
,
and
the
great
expanse
of
hedgeless
meadowland
.
The
horses
,
summering
there
,
stand
knee-deep
in
the
stream
,
eating
,
or
pretending
to
eat
,
the
weeds
;
one
having
a
wet
roll
of
utter
enjoyment
in
the
shallows
.
Sheets
of
little
ranunculus
are
all
ablow
,
each
stiff
,
straight
stem
and
small
white
head
erect
on
the
water
.
Countless
geese
stalk
along
the
meadow
,
waddling
and
cropping
the
grass
.
Others
,
like
a
white
fleet
,
paddle
and
dive
for
water-weeds
.
Into
the
midst
of
this
feathered
Armada
they
see
the
larger
boat
,
which
has
shot
ahead
of
them
,
being
lustily
pulled
to
give
it
a
fright
;
instigated
thereto
by
Sarah
,
who
under
the
ægis
of
a
female
friend
,
and
with
Bellairs
pulling
stroke
,
and
consequently
divided
from
her
by
nearly
the
whole
length
of
the
boat
,
has
resumed
her
usual
hilarity
,
and
by
voice
,
gesture
,
and
waved
parasol
,
is
encouraging
her
slaves
.
The
geese
separate
,
screeching
and
oaring
away
;
and
one
gosling
,
overtaken
by
the
prow
,
dives
and
rises
again
ten
paces
away
.
Both
Rivers
and
Belinda
laugh
.
There
is
something
healthy
and
clearing
to
the
moral
atmosphere
in
a
joint
laugh
.
Rivers
'
mirth
dies
into
a
long
sigh
of
contentment
.
"
What
a
day
!
"
he
says
,
resting
on
his
oars
,
and
staring
up
at
the
sky
.
"
I
love
the
river
;
how
I
missed
it
at
first
!
I
used
to
dream
about
it
!
it
was
one
of
the
things
that
I
dreaded
dreaming
about
!
"
She
does
not
ask
him
what
the
others
were
.
Possibly
she
is
incurious
.
"
Perhaps
,
"
he
says
,
bringing
his
eyes
down
again
from
the
heaven
above
him
,
to
the
,
to
him
,
better
heaven
of
her
face
,
"
perhaps
it
is
worth
while
to
have
a
holiday
only
once
in
two
years
,
to
enjoy
it
as
I
have
done
mine
!
"
As
he
speaks
,
a
slight
frown
,
not
of
displeasure
at
his
harmless
words
,
but
of
reflection
and
doubt
,
puckers
her
forehead
.
"
Are
you
sure
,
"
she
says
slowly
,
"
that
it
is
quite
the
first
holiday
that
you
have
had
in
two
years
?
"
He
looks
surprised
.
"
Virtually
yes
.
Why
?
"
"
Nothing
!
"
she
answers
in
confusion
;
"
only
I
happened
to
hear
that
you
were
in
London
last
winter
.
"
"
I
was
,
"
he
answers
calmly
,
though
still
surprised
.
"
Our
firm
sent
me
up
on
business
:
that
was
no
holiday
.
"
"
And
you
—
you
combined
business
with
pleasure
?
"
she
says
,
laughing
awkwardly
.
"
You
—
you
went
to
the
play
?
"
Difficult
as
it
is
to
look
him
in
the
face
,
while
guiltily
conscious
of
the
drift
of
her
question
,
she
yet
eagerly
fastens
upon
him
a
glance
whose
keenness
no
least
tinge
of
discomfiture
can
escape
.
But
none
such
meets
her
.
He
has
resumed
his
leisurely
rowing
,
but
now
stops
again
.
"
Where
you
there
?
"
he
cries
abruptly
.
"
Is
it
possible
that
I
missed
you
?
I
looked
—
I
thought
—
I
hoped
.
"
She
shakes
her
head
.
"
I
was
not
there
!
I
was
not
"
(
with
a
twinge
of
self-pity
,
as
she
recalls
her
then
mood
)
—
"
I
was
not
in
a
very
play-going
humour
;
but
I
was
told
by
some
one
who
had
seen
you
!
"
Surely
he
will
now
volunteer
the
mention
of
the
lady
by
whom
he
was
accompanied
.
She
has
paused
on
purpose
to
give
him
the
opportunity
,
but
he
does
not
take
it
.
He
leans
on
his
sculls
,
staring
before
him
in
wistful
bitter
thought
.
"
You
were
with
a
lady
,
"
says
Belinda
presently
,
unable
any
longer
to
contain
herself
.
"
A
lady
?
"
he
says
,
starting
.
"
Was
I
?
—
oh
,
of
course
,
my
sister
.
Poor
girl
!
she
had
not
been
anywhere
for
so
long
,
that
she
was
naturally
keen
about
it
.
She
was
staying
with
an
aunt
,
who
gave
us
our
stalls
;
otherwise
,
"
with
a
laugh
,
"
in
the
then
state
of
our
finances
,
the
shilling
gallery
would
have
been
nearer
our
mark
!
"
So
it
is
explained
.
How
simple
it
sounds
!
how
obvious
!
What
is
there
in
it
,
upon
which
any
but
a
madwoman
could
have
hung
distrust
or
jealousy
?
And
yet
it
is
upon
this
cock-and-bull
story
that
she
elected
to
shipwreck
her
life
!
A
sailing-boat
,
lurching
and
tacking
,
and
heeling
over
,
after
the
manner
of
such
,
and
out
of
whose
way
they
have
to
get
,
rouses
them
both
,
and
they
row
on
.
The
larger
boat
has
pulled
into
the
bank
,
in
order
to
set
the
two
dogs
,
in
whom
Sarah
affects
to
detect
symptoms
of
incipient
sea-sickness
,
on
shore
,
where
they
instantly
begin
to
give
a
great
deal
of
trouble
.
Punch
—
a
dog
of
no
ballast
of
mind
,
entirely
losing
his
head
in
joy
at
his
enlargement
—
first
frolicsomely
nips
the
sleepy
horses
'
heels
,
a
civility
which
they
return
by
viciously
lashing
out
at
him
;
then
chivies
the
geese
,
a
levity
which
calls
forth
from
the
husband
and
father
an
awful
chastisement
of
flapping
wings
,
outstretched
neck
,
and
dreadfully
wide-opened
mouth
.
Slutty
,
on
the
other
hand
,
for
reasons
best
known
to
herself
has
set
off
galloping
in
the
wrong
direction
,
with
her
tail
between
her
legs
.
Her
recapture
and
the
recovery
and
admonishment
of
Punch
take
so
long
,
that
the
couple
in
the
dinghey
have
time
to
get
far
ahead
,
and
,
rounding
a
reach
of
the
river
,
to
lose
their
companions
from
sight
.
On
and
on
they
float
in
their
virtual
aloneness
,
for
in
nothing
do
the
two
men
punting
,
or
the
happy
young
fellow
shooting
past
in
his
skiff
,
disturb
their
solitude
.
They
speak
ever
less
and
less
.
Now
and
again
,
indeed
,
silence
becomes
too
oppressive
,
and
they
speak
;
but
then
speech
grows
over-pregnant
,
and
they
fly
back
to
silence
.
Both
are
strung
up
to
pleasure
's
highest
pitch
,
that
pitch
for
which
they
will
have
to
pay
,
and
know
that
they
will
have
to
pay
,
so
extortionately
;
for
pleasure
,
like
the
scorpion
,
is
an
animal
that
carries
a
sting
in
its
tail
.
Upon
enjoyment
is
set
its
keenest
edge
.
The
lark
,
lost
in
light
above
them
,
might
be
their
spokesman
,
only
that
to
their
song
,
unlike
his
,
there
is
ever
that
minor
refrain
:
"
The
last
day
!
the
last
day
!
"
What
a
nameless
unreckoning
elation
the
warm
breeze
lends
,
and
the
motion
and
the
very
throbbing
of
the
gentle
water
against
the
passing
keel
!
She
pulls
up
her
sleeve
,
and
dipping
in
her
bared
right
arm
,
affects
to
imitate
his
gestures
,
and
to
oar
the
stream
with
it
.
"
I
am
helping
you
,
"
she
cries
,
smiling
.
"
I
,
too
,
am
rowing
;
do
you
find
any
perceptible
help
?
"
He
does
not
reply
.
He
rows
slowly
on
in
a
dream
,
his
eyes
intoxicatedly
watching
that
pendent
hand
and
swaying
lily
wrist
.
He
always
thinks
her
last
word
or
action
prettier
and
better
than
all
its
predecessors
.
But
surely
she
can
never
outdo
this
.
He
might
borrow
Florizel
's
words
without
a
changed
syllable
.
He
pulls
,
still
in
a
dream
,
beneath
the
willows
.
A
poplar
,
shivering
perpetually
,
flutters
and
trembles
against
the
sky
's
perfect
azure
over
their
heads
.
Still
in
a
dream
,
and
at
her
orders
,
he
leaves
her
lying
pensive
and
cool
on
her
cushions
,
and
scrambles
into
the
field
to
fetch
flowers
for
her
.
He
comes
back
with
a
great
nosegay
,
which
he
lays
in
her
lap
:
yellow
flags
,
beckabunga
,
forget-me-nots
bigger
and
bluer
than
the
petted
garden
ones
,
a
scrap
of
catch-fly
,
a
handful
of
stitchworts
,
powdery
purple
grasses
,
all
plucked
haphazard
,
and
yet
gathered
into
such
a
perfect
posy
as
no
after-arranging
,
or
sorting
,
or
matching
of
colours
could
compass
.
She
tells
him
so
.
Was
ever
man
,
for
so
poor
a
gift
,
so
royally
thanked
?
Their
companions
have
passed
them
again
;
the
dogs
re-embarked
,
and
the
whole
company
singing
a
gay
part-song
.
No
other
than
"
The
Franklin
's
Dogge
.
"
How
entrancingly
sweet
and
merry
sound
the
nonsensical
old
words
across
the
water
!
Belinda
and
Rivers
must
needs
follow
them
to
the
rendezvous
—
the
little
rural
Trout
Inn
,
where
they
are
to
have
tea
.
It
is
brought
out
to
them
,
in
an
arbour
overlooking
the
stream
,
by
a
stout
wench
;
thick
bread
and
butter
,
great
wedges
of
plain
cake
,
a
tea-set
where
no
two
articles
are
of
the
same
make
or
pattern
.
Sarah
,
having
tided
over
her
Bellairs
difficulty
,
and
restored
to
her
happy-go-lucky
confidence
of
being
able
to
keep
the
rest
of
her
team
well
in
hand
,
is
in
delightful
spirits
.
There
are
too
many
other
visitors
at
the
Trout
to
make
any
more
glees
advisable
;
but
she
is
good
enough
to
indulge
the
company
with
several
quiet
performances
of
a
juggling
nature
,
which
make
no
noise
,
and
need
attract
no
attention
—
such
as
sticking
half-pence
into
her
eyes
,
and
disposing
them
ingeniously
about
her
other
features
.
Belinda
,
too
,
is
in
wild
mirth
—
as
wild
as
that
of
the
unlucky
day
of
Blind
Man
's
Buff
.
She
is
not
nearly
so
clever
with
the
halfpence
as
her
sister
;
but
in
point
of
mere
animal
spirits
she
almost
exceeds
her
.
When
,
however
,
the
tea-party
and
its
humours
are
ended
—
when
,
in
their
former
order
,
they
are
on
their
way
home
again
—
those
factitious
spirits
drop
like
a
wind
at
sunset
.
The
feast
is
all
but
over
:
surely
,
since
the
world
was
,
never
has
any
been
so
poignantly
relished
.
In
each
moment
have
not
they
tasted
a
hundred
years
of
ordinary
tame
pleasures
?
But
it
is
now
nigh
being
done
,
and
pay-day
stands
at
the
door
.
The
light
is
low
and
level
;
the
geese
have
gone
to
bed
,
grey
head
and
yellow
nose
tucked
beneath
greay
wing
.
The
horses
'
shadows
stretch
,
longer
than
camelopards
,
across
the
meadow
.
There
is
scarcely
any
need
to
use
the
oars
,
wind
and
current
helping
them
;
they
are
floating
—
oh
,
how
swiftly
!
—
to
where
the
one
great
dome
,
and
the
many
spires
,
momently
growing
taller
,
tell
where
the
fair
city
lies
.
The
last
hour
of
the
last
day
is
running
out
.
When
that
dome
and
those
spires
are
reached
,
it
will
have
run
out
.
The
last
hour
!
How
many
things
there
are
to
be
said
in
a
last
hour
!
And
yet
the
only
phrase
that
will
rise
to
either
of
their
lips
is
,
"
It
is
the
last
time
!
"
Even
to
that
they
do
not
give
utterance
:
not
until
they
have
slidden
more
than
half-way
home
.
Then
,
at
sight
of
those
rapidly
nearing
spires
—
those
spires
that
mean
the
end
—
a
sort
of
panic
seizes
Belinda
:
"
How
fast
we
go
!
"
she
says
half-breathlessly
,
looking
down
as
if
she
would
fain
stop
on
the
lovely
evening
water
,
quickly
swishing
past
with
a
pleasant
low
sucking
sound
;
"
we
shall
be
home
in
ten
minutes
!
"
"
In
ten
minutes
!
"
he
repeats
in
a
tone
half-mazed
,
as
of
one
not
realizing
the
sense
of
the
words
.
"
And
it
is
the
last
time
!
"
she
says
very
low
.
Still
the
keel
quickly
cutting
the
flood
,
and
the
water
sucking
.
Why
so
fast
?
In
pity
,
why
so
fast
?
The
very
sun
—
their
last
sun
—
seems
hurrying
more
rapidly
than
his
wont
to
his
hot
rose
and
cowslip
coloured
bed
.
At
first
they
had
had
days
ahead
of
them
—
such
riches
seem
incredible
—
then
hours
,
now
minutes
,
and
but
few
of
them
;
so
few
that
surely
there
is
not
one
of
them
to
be
wasted
!
Perhaps
it
is
this
thought
that
sends
such
a
passion
of
haste
into
the
words
with
which
he
answers
her
:
"
Why
should
it
be
the
last
time
?
"
She
receives
the
suggestion
in
dead
silence
—
a
silence
so
dead
as
to
give
him
time
for
a
cold
pang
of
fear
that
he
has
employed
these
priceless
moments
in
offending
his
dear
lady
,
and
that
she
will
part
from
him
in
displeasure
.
If
his
hand
were
laid
upon
her
heart
,
he
would
know
why
she
did
not
speak
.
In
the
last
drunken
week
,
she
has
not
once
had
the
courage
to
look
her
life
,
that
is
to
be
,
in
the
eyes
.
Who
,
squandering
and
rioting
in
the
now
,
dare
ever
face
the
then
?
At
last
she
stammers
:
"
How
should
not
it
be
the
last
,
since
your
holiday
ends
to-morrow
?
"
"
And
am
I
never
to
have
another
?
"
He
is
lying
on
his
oars
now
;
but
still
the
boat
drifts
,
drifts
.
She
shakes
her
head
with
a
little
unhopeful
smile
;
though
surely
no
hopeless
heart
ever
leaped
and
sprang
as
hers
is
doing
.
"
Perhaps
in
another
two
years
!
"
His
oars
are
quite
out
of
the
water
;
he
,
at
least
,
will
have
no
share
in
accelerating
the
end
.
The
drops
gently
drip
from
their
blades
.
Twilight
is
taking
her
first
grey
steps
across
the
plains
,
and
the
warm
dew
falls
.
Two
or
three
of
their
dwindling
store
of
minutes
are
gone
before
Rivers
speaks
.
"
Term
will
sooon
be
over
,
then
you
will
go
away
,
I
suppose
?
"
"
I
think
not
—
probably
not
,
"
she
answers
idifferently
,
an
unacknowledged
disappointment
at
the
apparent
irrelevance
of
his
remark
,
at
his
want
of
insistance
upon
his
former
suggestion
,
chilling
heart
and
voice
.
"
You
will
stay
here
all
through
the
Long
?
"
Why
is
there
such
a
catch
in
his
breath
as
he
asks
this
question
?
What
is
it
to
him
whether
she
goes
or
stays
?
"
Most
likely
.
Mr.
Forth
will
go
to
Switzerland
;
I
believe
he
mostly
does
;
but
he
will
not
take
me
.
"
"
He
will
leave
you
here
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Alone
?
"
"
Unless
you
count
my
mother-in-law
as
society
,
"
with
a
slight
satiric
laugh
.
A
pause
.
A
flight
of
plovers
,
going
bedwards
,
speck
the
sky
above
them
.
"
Will
not
you
—
will
not
you
—
be
lonely
?
"
"
Not
more
than
usual
.
"
"
Will
not
most
of
your
friends
have
gone
?
"
Again
she
laughs
,
and
her
laugh
is
of
the
same
unmerry
character
as
before
.
"
With
my
goodwill
they
may
all
go
;
I
am
no
great
hand
at
making
friends
.
"
Another
pause
.
The
plovers
have
dwindled
to
nothing
;
the
other
boat
is
lost
to
sight
,
far
ahead
.
What
is
he
going
to
say
that
makes
him
fidget
so
uneasily
with
his
unused
oars
?
"
It
is
really
no
great
distance
from
Yorkshire
here
.
"
Again
she
laughs
;
but
the
irony
is
gone
,
driven
away
by
a
tremor
that
is
even
farther
from
gaiety
.
"
My
geography
is
not
my
strong
point
,
but
I
should
have
scarcely
thought
that
they
were
neighbouring
counties
.
"
"
Milnthorpe
is
not
more
than
five
hours
from
here
,
by
a
good
train
.
"
"
Is
not
it
?
"
And
then
again
there
is
silence
.
How
twilight
is
taming
day
's
gaudiness
!
but
doing
it
with
so
lovesome
a
mien
,
that
who
can
regret
the
gone
greens
and
blues
?
"
I
could
,
"
he
begins
.
How
dry
his
throat
is
!
He
would
be
glad
of
a
draught
from
the
river
to
moisten
it
.
"
I
could
—
run
down
—
for
Sunday
—
now
and
then
.
"
It
is
out
now
!
For
good
or
for
evil
,
it
is
said
;
and
in
uncontrollable
anxiety
he
leans
forward
,
the
better
to
read
in
her
face
how
she
takes
it
.
She
is
as
dead
silent
as
she
had
been
at
his
first
suggestion
of
the
possibility
of
their
meeting
again
;
but
perhaps
he
has
learnt
to
interpret
that
silence
better
.
Must
not
she
needs
set
some
order
in
that
riotous
heart
of
hers
before
she
can
speak
at
all
?
Surely
the
earth
is
mistaken
in
thinking
that
night
is
coming
.
Is
not
it
the
morning
that
is
born
?
His
hand
has
lifted
a
corner
of
the
great
night-curtain
that
has
hung
,
black
and
impenetrable
,
before
her
future
life
.
Dare
she
let
him
lift
it
all
?
"
Only
now
and
then
!
Not
often
!
"
he
says
in
great
agitation
.
"
If
you
have
not
a
soul
to
speak
to
for
four
months
,
you
might
not
mind
seeing
me
now
and
then
—
quite
now
and
then
!
"
Not
mind
seeing
him
!
At
that
she
cannot
choose
but
smile
.
"
We
knock
off
work
early
on
Saturday
,
and
there
is
a
fast
train
that
would
take
me
back
in
good
time
for
Monday
morning
.
"
There
is
such
a
desperate
urgency
of
asking
in
his
eyes
,
that
she
dare
not
look
at
him
.
What
can
she
answer
?
Still
that
unmastered
riot
in
her
heart
!
and
how
near
the
landing-place
is
growing
!
All
the
sail-boats
with
furled
sails
and
lowered
masts
;
all
the
row-boats
gathered
home
.
"
It
is
rather
a
mad
plan
!
"
she
says
,
with
a
laugh
that
has
a
touch
of
the
hysteric
.
"
Is
it
?
"
he
answers
blankly
.
"
I
suppose
it
is
.
"
There
are
not
more
than
eight
boat-lengths
to
go
.
In
those
eight
boat-lengths
she
must
decide
one
way
or
the
other
;
for
the
rest
of
the
party
are
gathered
in
hilarious
talk
about
the
landing-place
—
"
Little
Byngo
"
and
many
other
worthy
partsongs
having
wrought
one
and
all
to
the
highest
pitch
of
good-fellowship
—
waiting
for
them
.
"
Oxbridge
is
not
my
private
property
,
"
she
says
almost
inaudibly
,
and
shaking
like
a
poplar
leaf
,
that
is
never
still
;
"
you
have
other
friends
here
beside
me
.
"
"
I
have
,
"
he
answers
,
catching
at
her
suggestion
,
with
a
relief
proportioned
to
the
consternation
with
which
his
eye
has
been
measuring
the
half-dozen
yards
left
him
in
which
to
plead
his
cause
.
"
Why
should
not
I
come
to
see
them
?
"
Nor
have
either
he
or
she
the
candour
to
own
to
themselves
or
each
other
what
is
perfectly
well
known
to
both
,
that
in
the
Long
Vacation
Oxbridge
will
be
innocent
of
the
presence
of
any
one
of
those
friends
.
This
is
their
real
parting
.
CHAPTER
IX
.
The
week
and
Rivers
are
both
gone
.
Belinda
's
life
has
returned
to
its
old
channel
,
the
channel
in
which
it
ran
before
the
party
at
St.
Ursula
's
.
The
weather
has
ceased
to
be
a
matter
of
the
slightest
interest
.
It
is
not
of
the
least
consequence
what
weather
there
is
,
or
whether
there
is
any
weather
at
all
!
Done
with
are
all
tappings
of
weather-glasses
,
watchings
of
the
march
of
clouds
.
The
door-bell
may
ring
itself
off
its
wire
,
without
making
her
attention
swerve
by
one
hair's-breadth
from
Menander
,
or
interfering
at
all
with
the
coherence
and
patience
of
her
answers
to
her
mother-in-law
as
to
the
date
at
which
they
are
going
to
bury
that
mother-in-law
's
husband
,
whose
obsequies
appear
to
have
been
unaccountably
deferred
for
twenty-five
years
.
There
is
no
more
talk
of
water-parties
.
Sarah
herself
,
too
late
convinced
of
the
peril
of
those
excursions
,
confines
herself
and
her
followers
to
safe
games
of
tennis
in
well-overlooked
public
places
,
where
they
will
have
no
chance
of
reading
her
eyes
either
right
or
wrong
,
or
,
at
all
events
,
of
telling
her
the
result
of
their
readings
.
Mrs.
Forth
's
life
has
resumed
the
tame
course
which
it
was
taking
on
the
day
of
Sarah
's
arrival
;
but
how
different
a
spirit
now
guides
it
!
Whither
have
flown
the
sullen
discontent
,
the
dull
revolt
,
the
rare
mirth
that
bit
,
and
the
frequent
irony
that
pricked
and
stung
?
Now
,
if
the
Professor
be
cross
,
she
shrugs
her
shoulders
good-humouredly
.
He
is
old
!
He
means
nothing
by
it
!
It
is
an
infirmity
.
After
all
,
why
should
she
mind
?
How
does
it
hurt
her
?
If
he
keeps
her
slaving
long
beyond
her
canonical
hours
in
his
close
study
,
why
so
much
the
more
does
she
enjoy
afterwards
the
breath
of
the
garden
and
the
white
pinks
bursting
so
quickly
into
spicy
bloom
?
If
he
complain
of
his
affection
of
heart
,
liver
,
or
spleen
,
she
is
equally
ready
to
believe
in
and
sympathize
with
each
and
all
,
to
suggest
remedies
,
or
apply
them
.
Never
has
Sarah
been
more
puzzled
,
or
her
sagacity
put
more
at
fault
,
than
by
her
sister
's
behaviour
.
For
it
is
not
the
mood
of
a
day
.
The
consciousness
of
being
observed
and
of
the
necessity
for
self-control
might
have
lent
her
for
a
while
a
spurious
cheerfulness
;
but
could
it
have
given
her
that
easy
,
unforced
serenity
which
lasts
undimmed
through
Sarah
's
stay
—
which
,
indeed
,
shows
every
symptom
of
holding
out
indefinitely
beyond
it
?
It
is
not
from
the
post
,
as
Miss
Churchill
at
first
suspected
,
that
she
derives
her
support
.
The
postman
's
arrival
obviously
causes
her
not
a
flutter
;
nor
does
she
exhibit
the
slightest
tendency
towards
a
surreptitious
posting
of
her
own
letter
's
—
worst
sign
that
can
appear
in
a
connubial
heaven
.
It
is
not
,
then
,
upon
a
clandestine
correspondence
that
she
is
feeding
and
blooming
,
so
fair
and
fine
.
That
an
undoubtedly
hard-working
common
hand
,
or
,
still
more
,
foreman
in
an
iron
foundry
,
would
be
likely
soon
to
have
another
leisure
week
at
his
disposal
,
seems
to
her
improbable
.
That
Belinda
can
be
nourishing
any
hopes
of
a
visit
to
Milnthorpe
seems
to
her
more
improbable
still
.
That
,
satisfied
with
the
sight
of
her
lost
love
,
she
can
have
settled
down
contentedly
into
the
perennial
jogtrot
of
an
existence
without
him
,
seems
to
her
most
improbable
of
all
.
She
watches
her
sister
narrowly
;
sees
her
severe
lips
surprised
now
and
then
into
an
apparently
causeless
smile
;
catches
her
singing
under
her
breath
,
as
she
waters
her
drouthy
plants
;
sees
her
staid
walk
about
the
garden
occasionally
inclined
to
degenerate
into
a
light-hearted
run
with
the
dogs
.
But
she
does
not
surprise
her
secret
.
And
meanwhile
time
goes
on
.
The
yearly
gaieties
with
which
the
summer
Term
at
Oxbridge
concludes
are
over
and
gone
Mrs.
Forth
,
chaperoning
her
sister
,
has
taken
part
in
them
all
—
balls
,
fêtes
,
theatre
;
has
seen
the
masons
dance
in
their
aprons
,
and
heard
the
undergraduates
in
all
the
glory
of
their
immemorial
screeching
.
She
has
taken
part
in
all
,
and
has
apparently
enjoyed
them
with
a
wholesome
temperate
gaiety
;
as
far
removed
from
the
unnatural
elation
of
the
Blind
Man
's
Buff
,
as
from
the
inert
gloom
of
the
previous
period
.
With
Term
is
to
end
Sarah
's
visit
;
and
on
the
day
following
her
departure
the
Professor
is
to
shoulder
his
valise
for
the
Bernese
Oberland
.
The
morning
on
which
Mrs.
Forth
is
to
lose
her
sister
has
come
.
Sarah
is
taking
her
last
stroll
round
the
flower-beds
,
and
across
the
square
of
sward
over
which
she
and
Belinda
have
walked
so
many
miles
.
Mrs.
Forth
has
just
joined
her
,
issuing
from
the
house
with
the
end
of
a
laugh
still
lingering
about
her
mouth
and
eyes
.
"
You
seem
amused
,
"
says
the
other
,
turning
to
meet
her
.
"
May
I
be
permitted
to
inquire
the
cause
?
"
"
It
is
nothing
!
"
replies
Belinda
,
bubbling
over
again
with
mirth
.
"
It
is
a
shame
to
laugh
at
her
,
only
it
is
so
difficult
to
help
it
.
Mr.
Forth
has
just
been
reading
the
Collect
for
the
day
to
his
mother
;
and
at
the
end
she
said
to
him
,
'
You
read
very
nicely
,
my
dear
;
and
,
when
you
are
a
little
older
,
you
will
read
better
still
!
'
"
Sarah
joins
in
the
laugh
,
but
not
warmly
.
"
And
this
,
"
she
says
indignantly
,
"
is
the
companion
with
whom
you
are
to
be
left
tête-à-tête
for
four
months
!
"
Belinda
bends
her
charming
head
in
a
nod
of
cheerful
acquiescence
.
"
It
is
monstrous
!
"
continues
Miss
Churchill
,
with
a
growing
energy
of
ire
.
"
It
is
beyond
belief
!
I
have
a
good
mind
,
now
,
at
the
last
moment
,
to
give
him
a
piece
of
my
mind
!
Where
is
he
?
"
glancing
threateningly
towards
the
windows
of
the
house
.
"
Let
me
take
him
redhanded
,
in
the
act
of
packing
his
portmanteau
!
"
There
is
such
a
doughty
purpose
in
her
voice
and
her
pink
porcelain
face
,
that
Belinda
,
seizing
her
arm
in
apprehensive
detention
,
cries
:
"
Do
not
!
It
would
be
no
use
.
Do
you
remember
the
proverb
about
putting
the
finger
entre
l'arbre
et
l'écorce
?
And
I
—
I
do
not
want
to
go
with
him
.
"
At
the
last
words
,
she
has
turned
her
head
slightly
aside
.
"
Do
you
think
that
he
would
be
a
pleasant
travelling-companion
?
"
she
goes
on
rapidly
,
perceiving
that
her
sister
does
not
make
any
rejoinder
,
but
only
looks
at
her
searchingly
.
"
Do
you
remember
how
ashamed
we
used
to
be
when
he
haggled
over
the
groschen
at
Dresden
?
A
tour
with
him
would
be
one
colossal
blush
.
"
"
It
is
a
choice
of
evils
,
of
course
,
"
says
Sarah
dispassionately
.
"
Perhaps
my
early
passion
blinds
me
,
but
,
personally
,
I
should
prefer
him
.
"
"
Should
you
?
"
"
Four
months
!
"
repeats
Miss
Churchill
,
in
almost
awed
reflection
.
"
How
many
times
,
at
a
rough
calculation
,
in
four
months
will
you
tell
her
who
you
are
;
and
that
there
is
a
foolish
prejudice
in
favour
of
burying
people
before
they
have
been
dead
twenty-five
years
?
"
"
Perhaps
I
shall
end
by
joining
her
in
the
belief
that
my
father-in-law
is
still
above
ground
,
"
replies
Belinda
;
but
she
says
it
in
a
tone
of
such
unassumed
equanimity
,
that
again
Sarah
regards
her
with
astonishment
.
"
Four
months
!
"
she
repeats
,
a
third
time
.
"
Do
you
mean
to
tell
me
that
you
are
not
desperate
at
such
a
prospect
?
"
"
Of
course
I
am
—
desperate
!
"
But
there
is
not
a
touch
of
desperation
,
or
even
of
milder
sadness
,
in
her
voice
.
"
How
do
you
mean
to
live
thorough
it
?
"
"
How
do
people
endure
existence
on
these
occasions
?
"
She
has
knelt
on
the
springy
turf
,
and
is
cutting
,
one
after
one
,
a
score
of
young
and
dewy
pinks
,
to
comfort
her
sister
during
her
dusty
up-journey
;
carefully
,
and
with
the
grudging
hand
of
a
real
flower-lover
,
choosing
those
that
are
budless
:
no
easy
feat
,
for
there
is
scarcely
one
that
has
not
a
grey-green
successor
beneath
its
perfumed
wing
.
"
Eating
,
drinking
,
sleeping
,
yawning
!
"
"
Are
you
quite
sure
that
you
will
have
no
other
support
?
"
asks
Sarah
abruptly
,
and
yet
slowly
.
For
a
moment
the
garden-scissors
in
Mrs.
Forth
's
hand
cease
their
clipping
,
and
remain
suspended
and
open
,
like
that
other
pair
which
snipped
her
namesake
's
love-lock
,
while
a
dye
as
opulent
as
that
of
the
new
peony
,
whose
birth
the
garden-border
this
morning
greeted
,
stains
even
the
milk-coloured
nape
of
her
stooped
neck
.
"
I
—
I
—
do
not
know
what
you
mean
,
"
she
says
coldly
;
"
what
—
what
other
support
should
I
have
?
"
"
Belinda
,
"
says
the
other
,
dropping
down
on
the
sward
beside
her
,
and
griping
her
shaking
hand
—
scissors
,
pinks
,
and
all
—
in
her
own
little
eager
clasp
,
"
why
should
not
I
come
back
and
keep
you
company
?
I
may
not
be
a
very
intellectual
companion
,
but
at
least
I
have
a
firmer
hold
upon
my
few
facts
than
has
your
poor
mamma-in-law
.
Let
me
come
back
;
we
will
have
Jane
down
,
and
Punch
shall
show
her
the
University
"
—
with
a
not
very
assured
laugh
.
"
Let
me
come
!
"
But
the
hands
so
urgently
pressed
give
no
answering
pressure
.
Upon
the
half-averted
face
comes
no
glow
of
sisterly
pleasure
or
acceptance
.
A
senseless
suspicion
has
flashed
across
Mrs.
Forth
's
mind
,
that
the
present
proposition
on
Sarah
's
part
may
be
an
impormptu
fait
à
loisir
;
that
it
may
have
been
arranged
between
her
and
Rivers
;
that
here
may
lie
the
secret
of
his
eagerness
to
repeat
his
visit
;
that
—
in
fact
whatever
angry
gibberish
jealousy
may
whisper
to
a
mind
ripe
and
ready
for
its
reception
.
Under
pretext
of
resuming
her
pinkcutting
,
she
has
withdrawn
her
unwillingly-captured
hand
;
but
she
is
no
longer
careful
:
the
unblown
buds
fall
as
freely
as
the
opened
flowers
.
"
And
give
up
Cowes
and
Scotland
?
"
she
says
in
a
dry
voice
;
"
and
what
would
granny
say
?
"
"
It
would
not
be
of
the
slightest
consequence
what
she
said
,
"
replies
Sarah
,
smothering
bravely
a
disappointment
none
the
less
sharp
for
being
mastered
at
her
sister
's
reception
of
her
proposal
.
"
You
are
aware
that
my
grandmother
's
words
have
always
been
to
me
as
the
idle
wind
;
which
,
I
believe
,
is
one
main
reason
of
the
sincere
regard
and
respect
that
she
cherishes
for
me
.
If
granny
is
the
only
stumbling-block
—
"
"
I
could
not
think
of
being
so
selfish
!
"
interrupts
Belinda
hastily
,
not
allowing
her
sister
to
finish
her
sentence
.
"
There
would
be
no
selfishness
if
I
liked
it
,
"
says
Sarah
persistently
;
"
and
—
you
may
wonder
at
my
taste
,
but
I
should
like
it
.
"
Belinda
has
risen
from
her
knees
,
and
has
turned
to
a
damask
rose-bush
,
to
lay
it
under
contribution
for
her
nosegay
.
"
It
is
so
perfectly
unneccessary
,
"
she
says
,
cutting
feverishly
away
;
"
you
are
tilting
against
windmills
.
I
make
no
complaint
;
I
think
it
no
hardship
to
be
alone
.
I
am
not
like
you
,
miserable
if
I
am
left
five
minutes
to
my
own
society
!
"
There
is
such
a
strain
of
impatience
through
her
speech
,
that
Sarah
reluctantly
desists
,
nor
are
many
more
words
exchanged
between
them
.
The
cab
is
at
the
door
.
The
luggage
—
cursed
of
cabmen
—
has
been
hoisted
on
the
top
.
Punch
is
,
at
Mrs.
Forth
's
petition
—
a
petition
certainly
not
backed
up
by
Slutty
—
to
be
left
on
a
visit
to
her
.
The
moment
of
parting
has
come
.
Sarah
apparently
wishes
that
that
parting
shall
take
place
without
witnesses
.
She
draws
her
sister
back
into
the
drawing-room
,
and
shuts
the
door
.
"
Belinda
,
"
she
says
,
when
she
has
somewhat
coldly
kissed
her
,
looking
in
her
face
with
a
gravity
that
only
once
or
twice
before
in
the
course
of
their
lives
has
Mrs.
Forth
seen
written
on
those
small
gay
lineaments
.
"
Belinda
,
I
wash
my
hands
of
you
;
I
would
have
helped
you
if
I
could
.
I
have
no
reason
for
saying
so
—
I
know
nothing
,
and
you
will
tell
me
nothing
;
but
I
cannot
help
thinking
that
you
are
going
to
the
devil
,
and
that
you
are
taking
David
Rivers
with
you
!
"
Then
,
without
another
word
,
she
is
gone
.
Without
one
last
look
from
the
cab
window
,
without
a
farewell
friendly
handwave
;
forgetting
even
to
bid
good-bye
to
the
dogs
,
or
take
their
messages
to
Jane
,
she
is
gone
.
For
some
minutes
Belinda
remains
standing
on
the
exact
spot
at
which
her
sister
had
left
her
;
remains
standing
,
still
and
stunned
.
Then
she
suddenly
throws
herself
into
the
Professor
's
armchair
,
and
spreads
her
hands
over
her
face
.
She
would
like
not
to
let
a
quarter
of
an
inch
of
it
remain
uncovered
.
The
light
is
strong
and
brutal
.
She
would
like
to
draw
the
blinds
down
and
shut
the
shutters
.
"
Going
to
the
devil
,
and
taking
David
Rivers
with
you
!
"
The
blood
is
singing
loudly
in
her
ears
.
It
seems
to
take
the
form
of
these
words
.
Over
and
over
again
.
The
moment
the
sentence
is
ended
,
it
begins
afresh
.
How
long
she
lies
there
—
outwardly
a
log
,
inwardly
a
shameful
fire
—
she
neither
knows
nor
cares
.
But
after
a
while
a
tide
of
indignation
sets
in
through
all
her
being
,
chasing
before
it
the
shame
,
and
she
sits
up
.
What
disgraceful
words
for
her
own
sister
to
apply
to
her
!
and
what
slightest
ground
,
excuse
,
palliation
even
,
had
she
for
so
insulting
her
?
Going
to
the
devil
!
And
pray
,
what
is
it
to
go
to
the
devil
?
Is
it
to
fulfil
with
nice
scrupulosity
every
tasteless
or
even
nauseous
duty
of
a
most
dreary
life
?
To
sing
as
she
walks
her
treadmill
?
To
smile
patiently
over
her
oakumpicking
?
To
forego
her
own
hot
bright
youth
,
and
clip
down
its
rich
proportions
to
the
meagre
pattern
of
the
dry
and
crabbed
age
with
which
it
is
mismated
?
To
be
a
secretary
without
pay
,
a
drudge
without
wage
,
a
souffre
douleur
without
hope
of
enlargement
,
a
prisoner
the
term
of
whose
incarceration
lies
in
the
hands
of
arbitrary
death
?
If
this
be
to
go
to
the
devil
,
then
she
is
not
only
going
there
,
but
has
long
ago
gone
.
She
laughs
sarcastically
,
and
her
feverish
limbs
carry
her
up
and
down
the
room
.
If
Sarah
had
given
her
time
,
this
is
how
she
would
have
answered
her
—
thus
and
thus
.
For
a
while
she
walks
to
and
fro
,
muttering
under
her
breath
,
framing
withering
sentences
of
self-exculpation
,
that
must
carry
conviction
to
any
mind
.
But
that
mood
,
too
,
passes
.
As
her
wrath
—
spent
and
exhausted
—
subsides
,
another
voice
,
lower
yet
more
penetrating
,
takes
its
place
.
Going
to
the
devil
!
Is
going
to
the
devil
to
have
a
husband
whose
pursuits
you
abhor
,
whose
infirmities
you
secretly
deride
,
at
whose
accidental
touch
you
shiver
?
Is
going
to
the
devil
to
be
speeding
with
disloyal
alacrity
that
husband
's
departure
,
to
be
counting
the
hours
to
the
end
of
your
only
sister
's
visit
,
to
be
living
and
feeding
and
flourishing
upon
a
hope
that
you
dare
not
look
in
the
face
,
that
you
would
sooner
die
than
impart
to
any
soul
that
breathes
?
Is
this
to
be
going
to
the
devil
?
She
has
again
wholly
hidden
her
face
with
her
hands
.
Again
the
light
seems
over-strong
and
pushing
.
And
plain
and
distinct
,
beyond
possibility
of
misapprehension
,
the
answer
comes
—
"
Yes
!
yes
!
yes
!
"
A
couple
of
hours
later
the
Professor
lifts
a
head
,
a
good
deal
reddened
and
exasperated
by
long
burrowing
in
the
bowels
of
a
portmanteau
,
to
see
his
pale
wife
enter
his
room
.
"
I
came
to
see
whether
I
could
help
you
,
"
she
says
gently
,
though
in
a
spiritless
flat
voice
.
"
The
idea
has
occurred
to
you
somewhat
late
in
the
day
,
"
replies
he
ungraciously
.
"
It
was
fortunate
for
me
that
I
did
not
depend
upon
your
offers
of
assistance
,
volunteered
this
morning
.
"
"
I
was
bidding
Sarah
good-bye
,
"
she
answers
apologetically
,
and
without
any
trace
of
resentment
at
his
tone
.
"
She
has
been
gone
exactly
three
hours
and
a
half
,
"
replies
he
drily
,
glancing
at
the
clock
.
She
offers
no
further
justification
,
but
kneeling
down
on
the
floor
,
lets
her
hands
,
which
tremble
perceptibly
,
stray
rather
purposelessly
over
the
books
strewn
upon
the
carpet
.
"
Pray
,
mind
what
you
are
about
!
"
he
cries
sharply
"
you
are
doing
more
harm
than
good
.
"
"
They
are
to
go
,
are
not
they
?
"
she
says
,
lifting
a
heavy
folio
,
and
looking
humbly
up
at
him
.
"
I
am
obliged
to
omit
Augustine
,
Irenæus
,
and
several
books
of
reference
,
as
they
would
entail
very
considerable
expense
upon
me
in
excess
of
weight
,
"
he
replies
,
peering
down
through
his
spectacles
at
his
strewn
treasures
.
"
I
the
less
regret
it
as
,
since
I
am
taking
no
secretary
with
me
—
"
How
very
white
her
face
is
!
Has
she
had
some
sudden
scare
?
"
Why
are
not
you
taking
a
secretary
?
"
she
asks
in
a
very
low
voice
.
"
Why
—
why
do
not
you
take
me
?
"
He
shifts
the
focus
of
his
vision
from
Irenaeus
to
her
face
;
but
apparently
the
latter
object
gives
him
less
tranquil
pleasure
than
did
the
former
.
"
You
have
never
expressed
the
slightest
desire
to
accompany
me
,
"
he
answers
chillingly
.
She
hangs
her
head
,
a
guilty
conscious
ness
staining
her
pallor
red
.
"
Have
not
I
?
Perhaps
I
thought
that
you
did
not
want
me
.
"
There
is
a
deliberate
pause
before
he
answers
,
and
her
heart
goes
down
,
down
.
He
is
about
to
accept
her
offer
!
But
his
first
words
reassure
her
.
"
I
can
see
no
object
that
would
be
gained
by
such
a
change
of
plan
,
"
he
replies
,
in
a
key
that
plainly
shows
his
annoyance
at
the
suggestion
having
been
made
.
"
I
go
in
search
of
health
;
a
quest
which
you
,
happily
for
yourself
,
have
no
need
to
pursue
.
"
She
draws
a
long
breath
of
relief
;
but
now
that
the
danger
of
acceptance
seems
less
imminent
,
her
scruples
return
.
Sarah
's
stinging
phrase
begins
to
ring
again
in
her
ears
.
"
You
—
you
forget
that
I
shall
be
all
alone
here
,
"
she
says
,
nervously
fidgeting
with
the
already
packed
portion
of
the
portmanteau
.
"
You
will
have
my
mother
.
"
She
shrugs
her
shoulders
.
"
She
can
hardly
be
reckoned
as
a
companion
.
"
At
her
capricious
and
untimely
opposition
,
his
forehead
gathers
into
vexed
wrinkles
.
"
Since
it
appears
that
your
own
society
has
such
terrors
for
you
,
you
are
at
liberty
to
invite
your
sister
to
come
and
share
your
solitude
.
"
Again
the
guilty
head
stoops
.
"
She
—
she
has
engagements
of
her
own
.
"
"
So
I
should
have
imagined
,
"
replies
he
with
a
disagreeable
smile
;
"
but
you
can
scarcely
hold
me
responsible
for
them
.
"
Another
pause
.
She
is
aimlessly
wrapping
paper
round
one
of
the
volumes
that
are
not
wanted
,
that
are
not
to
be
taken
eruditely
tripping
to
the
Alps
.
She
will
make
one
more
effort
.
If
that
fail
,
no
one
,
not
even
Sarah
,
can
blame
her
.
"
Does
not
it
strike
you
that
I
shall
be
very
dull
here
,
all
by
myself
?
"
she
asks
,
timorously
eyeing
him
.
"
I
have
always
understood
,
upon
your
own
authority
,
that
you
were
indifferent
to
,
if
not
averse
from
,
amusements
,
"
he
answers
irritably
.
"
Not
now
—
not
now
!
"
she
cries
feverishly
.
"
Even
if
I
were
so
formerly
,
I
am
not
now
;
and
even
if
I
were
—
to
be
alone
for
four
months
!
"
"
You
exaggerate
grossly
,
"
returns
he
sharply
.
"
There
are
many
residents
who
do
not
leave
Oxbridge
until
the
end
of
July
,
and
many
who
return
at
the
beginning
of
September
.
"
"
They
will
do
me
no
good
,
"
she
says
excitedly
.
"
How
will
they
help
me
?
"
He
shrugs
his
shoulders
silently
,
as
who
should
say
that
upon
one
lost
in
such
mazes
of
inconsequence
and
irrationality
breath
would
be
wasted
.
"
Do
you
remember
that
I
am
young
?
"
she
says
,
in
a
hard
low
voice
,
rising
from
her
knees
and
approaching
him
.
"
It
is
certainly
not
your
fault
if
I
do
not
,
"
replies
he
peevishly
;
"
for
you
are
good
enough
to
remind
me
of
the
fact
often
enough
.
"
"
It
is
because
you
always
act
as
if
you
forgot
it
,
"
retorts
she
,
her
temper
rising
under
his
tone
.
"
I
confess
that
I
fail
to
see
how
your
juvenility
affects
the
present
case
,
"
he
says
satirically
.
"
Do
you
?
"
she
answers
with
a
scorching
blush
,
that
seems
to
burn
inside
as
well
as
outside
her
.
"
Some
men
might
think
that
I
was
too
young
to
be
left
to
my
own
devices
;
that
I
—
I
might
get
into
mischief
!
"
He
has
taken
off
his
spectacles
in
order
to
rub
their
glasses
.
He
now
deliberately
replaces
them
,
and
regards
her
attentively
through
them
.
