somethingat
any
rate
to
possess
one
—
nine-tenths
of
the
clergy
being
without
the
appendage
.
But
Elsmere
—
pshaw
!
he
will
go
muddling
on
to
the
end
of
the
chapter
!
'
The
squire
,
indeed
,
was
like
a
hunter
whose
prey
escapes
him
at
the
very
moment
of
capture
,
and
there
grew
on
him
a
mocking
aggressive
mood
which
Elsmere
often
found
hard
to
bear
.
One
natural
symptom
of
it
was
his
renewed
churlishness
as
to
all
local
matters
.
Elsmere
one
afternoon
spent
an
hour
in
trying
to
persuade
him
to
open
the
new
Institute
.
'
What
on
earth
do
you
want
me
for
?
'
inquired
Mr.
Wendover
,
standing
before
the
fire
in
the
library
,
the
Medusa
head
peering
over
his
shoulder
.
'
You
know
perfectly
well
that
all
the
gentry
about
here
—
I
suppose
you
will
have
some
of
them
—
regard
me
as
an
old
reprobate
,
and
the
poor
people
,
I
imagine
,
as
a
kind
of
ogre
.
To
me
it
does
n't
matter
a
twopenny
damn
—
I
apologise
;
it
was
the
Duke
of
Wellington
's
favourite
standard
of
value
—
but
I
ca
n't
see
what
good
it
can
do
either
you
or
the
village
,
under
the
circumstances
,
that
I
should
stand
on
my
head
for
the
popular
edification
.
'
Elsmere
,
however
,
merely
stood
his
ground
,
arguing
and
bantering
,
till
the
squire
grudgingly
gave
way
.
This
time
,
after
he
departed
,
Mr.
Wendover
,
instead
of
going
to
his
work
,
still
stood
gloomily
ruminating
in
front
of
the
fire
.
His
frowning
eyes
wandered
round
the
great
room
before
him
.
For
the
first
time
he
was
conscious
that
now
,
as
soon
as
the
charm
of
Elsmere
's
presence
was
withdrawn
,
his
working
hours
were
doubly
solitary
;
that
his
loneliness
weighed
upon
him
more
;
and
that
it
mattered
to
him
appreciably
whether
that
young
man
went
or
stayed
.
The
stirring
of
a
new
sensation
,
however
,
—
unparalleled
since
the
brief
days
when
even
Roger
Wendover
had
his
friends
and
his
attractions
like
other
men
,
—
was
soon
lost
in
renewed
chafing
at
Elsmere
's
absurdities
.
The
squire
had
been
at
first
perfectly
content
—
so
he
told
himself
—
to
limit
the
field
of
their
intercourse
,
and
would
have
been
content
to
go
on
doing
so
.
But
Elsmere
himself
had
invited
freedom
of
speech
between
them
.
'
I
would
have
given
him
my
best
,
'
Mr.
Wendover
reflected
impatiently
.
'
I
could
have
handed
on
to
him
all
I
shall
never
use
,
and
he
might
use
,
admirably
.
And
now
we
might
as
well
be
on
the
terms
we
were
to
begin
with
for
all
the
good
I
get
out
of
him
,
or
he
out
of
me
.
Clearly
nothing
but
cowardice
!
He
cannot
face
the
intellectual
change
,
and
he
must
,
I
suppose
,
dread
lest
it
should
affect
his
work
.
Good
God
,
what
nonsense
!
As
if
any
one
inquired
what
an
English
parson
believed
nowadays
,
so
long
as
he
performs
all
the
usual
antics
decently
!
'
And
,
meanwhile
,
it
never
occurred
to
the
squire
that
Elsmere
had
a
wife
,
and
a
pious
one
.
Catherine
had
been
dropped
out
of
his
calculation
as
to
Elsmere
's
future
,
at
a
very
early
stage
.
The
following
afternoon
Robert
,
coming
home
from
a
round
,
found
Catherine
out
,
and
a
note
awaiting
him
from
the
Hall
.
'
Can
you
and
Mrs.
Elsmere
come
in
to
tea
?
'
wrote
the
squire
.
'
Madame
de
Netteville
is
here
,
and
one
or
two
others
.
'
Robert
grumbled
a
good
deal
,
looked
for
Catherine
to
devise
an
excuse
for
him
,
could
not
find
her
,
and
at
last
reluctantly
set
out
again
alone
.
He
was
tired
and
his
mood
was
heavy
.
As
he
trudged
through
the
park
he
never
once
noticed
the
soft
sun-flooded
distance
,
the
shining
loops
of
the
river
,
the
feeding
deer
,
or
any
of
those
natural
witcheries
to
which
eye
and
sense
were
generally
so
responsive
.
The
labourers
going
home
,
the
children
—
with
aprons
full
of
crab-apples
,
and
lips
dyed
by
the
first
blackberries
—
who
passed
him
,
got
but
an
absent
smile
or
salute
from
the
rector
.
The
interval
of
exaltation
and
recoil
was
over
.
The
ship
of
the
mind
was
once
more
labouring
in
alien
and
dreary
seas
.
He
roused
himself
to
remember
that
he
had
been
curious
to
see
Madame
de
Netteville
.
She
was
an
old
friend
of
the
squire
's
,
the
holder
of
a
London
salon
,
much
more
exquisite
and
select
than
anything
Lady
Charlotte
could
show
.
'
She
had
the
same
thing
in
Paris
before
the
war
,
'
the
squire
explained
.
'
Renan
gave
me
a
card
to
her
.
An
extraordinary
woman
.
No
particular
originality
;
but
one
of
the
best
persons
"
to
consult
about
ideas
,
"
like
Joubert
's
Madame
de
Beaumont
,
I
ever
saw
.
Receptiveness
itself
.
A
beauty
,
too
,
or
was
one
,
and
a
bit
of
a
sphinx
,
which
adds
to
the
attraction
.
Mystery
becomes
a
woman
vastly
.
One
suspects
her
of
adventures
just
enough
to
find
her
society
doubly
piquant
.
'
Vincent
directed
him
to
the
upper
terrace
,
whither
tea
had
been
taken
.
This
terrace
,
which
was
one
of
the
features
of
Murewell
,
occupied
the
top
of
the
yew-clothed
hill
on
which
the
library
looked
out
.
Evelyn
himself
had
planned
it
.
Along
its
upper
side
ran
one
of
the
most
beautiful
of
old
walls
,
broken
by
niches
and
statues
,
tapestried
with
roses
and
honeysuckle
,
and
opening
in
the
centre
to
reveal
Evelyn
's
darling
conceit
of
all
—
a
semicircular
space
,
holding
a
fountain
,
and
leading
to
a
grotto
.
The
grotto
had
been
scooped
out
of
the
hill
;
it
was
peopled
with
dim
figures
of
fauns
and
nymphs
who
showed
white
amid
its
moist
greenery
;
and
in
front
a
marble
Silence
drooped
over
the
fountain
,
which
held
gold
and
silver
fish
in
a
singularly
clear
water
.
Outside
ran
the
long
stretch
of
level
turf
,
edged
with
a
jewelled
rim
of
flowers
;
and
as
the
hill
fell
steeply
underneath
,
the
terrace
was
like
a
high
green
platform
raised
into
air
,
in
order
that
a
Wendover
might
see
his
domain
,
which
from
thence
lay
for
miles
spread
out
before
him
.
Here
,
beside
the
fountain
,
were
gathered
the
squire
,
Mrs.
Darcy
,
Madame
de
Netteville
,
and
two
unknown
men
.
One
of
them
was
introduced
to
Elsmere
as
Mr.
Spooner
,
and
recognised
by
him
as
a
Fellow
of
the
Royal
Society
,
a
famous
mathematician
,
sceptic
,
bon
vivant
,
and
sayer
of
good
things
.
The
other
was
a
young
Liberal
Catholic
,
the
author
of
a
remarkable
collection
of
essays
on
mediæval
subjects
in
which
the
squire
,
treating
the
man
's
opinions
of
course
as
of
no
account
,
had
instantly
recognised
the
note
of
the
true
scholar
.
A
pale
,
small
,
hectic
creature
,
possessed
of
that
restless
energy
of
mind
which
often
goes
with
the
heightened
temperature
of
consumption
.
Robert
took
a
seat
by
Madame
de
Netteville
,
whose
appearance
was
picturesqueness
itself
.
Her
dress
,
a
skilful
mixture
of
black
and
creamy
yellow
,
lay
about
her
in
folds
,
as
soft
,
as
carelessly
effective
as
her
manner
.
Her
plumed
hat
shadowed
a
face
which
was
no
longer
young
in
such
a
way
as
to
hide
all
the
lines
possible
;
while
the
half-light
brought
admirably
out
the
rich
dark
smoothness
of
the
tints
,
the
black
lustre
of
the
eyes
.
A
delicate
blue-veined
hand
lay
upon
her
knee
,
and
Robert
was
conscious
after
ten
minutes
or
so
that
all
her
movements
,
which
seemed
at
first
merely
slow
and
languid
,
were
in
reality
singularly
full
of
decision
and
purpose
.
She
was
not
easy
to
talk
to
on
a
first
acquaintance
.
Robert
felt
that
she
was
studying
him
,
and
was
not
so
much
at
his
ease
as
usual
,
partly
owing
to
fatigue
and
mental
worry
.
She
asked
him
little
abrupt
questions
about
the
neighbourhood
,
his
parish
,
his
work
,
in
a
soft
tone
which
had
,
however
,
a
distinct
aloofness
,
even
hauteur
.
His
answers
,
on
the
other
hand
,
were
often
a
trifle
reckless
and
offhand
.
He
was
in
a
mood
to
be
impatient
with
a
mondaine
's
languid
inquiries
into
clerical
work
,
and
it
seemed
to
him
the
squire
's
description
had
been
overdone
.
'
So
you
try
to
civilise
your
peasants
,
'
she
said
at
last
.
'
Does
it
succeed
—
is
it
worth
while
?
'
'
That
depends
upon
your
general
ideas
of
what
is
worth
while
,
'
he
answered
smiling
.
'
Oh
,
everything
is
worth
while
that
passes
the
time
,
'
she
said
hurriedly
.
'
The
clergy
of
the
old
régime
went
through
life
half
asleep
.
That
was
their
way
of
passing
it
.
Your
way
,
being
a
modern
,
is
to
bustle
and
try
experiments
.
'
Her
eyes
,
half
closed
but
none
the
less
provocative
,
ran
over
Elsmere
's
keen
face
and
pliant
frame
.
An
atmosphere
of
intellectual
and
social
assumption
enwrapped
her
,
which
annoyed
Robert
in
much
the
same
way
as
Langham
's
philosophical
airs
were
wont
to
do
.
He
was
drawn
without
knowing
it
into
a
match
of
wits
wherein
his
strokes
,
if
they
lacked
the
finish
and
subtlety
of
hers
,
showed
certainly
no
lack
of
sharpness
or
mental
resource
.
Madame
de
Netteville
's
tone
insensibly
changed
,
her
manner
quickened
,
her
great
eyes
gradually
unclosed
.
Suddenly
,
as
they
were
in
the
middle
of
a
skirmish
as
to
the
reality
of
influence
,
Madame
de
Netteville
paradoxically
maintaining
that
no
human
being
had
ever
really
converted
,
transformed
,
or
convinced
another
,
the
voice
of
young
Wishart
,
shrill
and
tremulous
,
rose
above
the
general
level
of
talk
.
'
I
am
quite
ready
;
I
am
not
the
least
afraid
of
a
definition
.
Theology
is
organised
knowledge
in
the
field
of
religion
,
a
science
like
any
other
science
!
'
'
Certainly
,
my
dear
sir
,
certainly
,
'
said
Mr.
Spooner
,
leaning
forward
with
his
hands
round
his
knees
,
and
speaking
with
the
most
elegant
and
good-humoured
sangfroid
imaginable
,
'
the
science
of
the
world
's
ghosts
!
I
cannot
imagine
any
more
fascinating
.
'
'
Well
,
'
said
Madame
de
Netteville
to
Robert
,
with
a
deep
breath
,
'
that
was
a
remark
to
have
hurled
at
you
all
at
once
out
of
doors
on
a
summer
's
afternoon
!
Oh
,
Mr.
Spooner
!
'
she
said
,
raising
her
voice
,
'
do
n't
play
the
heretic
here
!
There
is
no
fun
in
it
;
there
are
too
many
with
you
.
'
'
I
did
not
begin
it
,
my
dear
madam
,
and
your
reproach
is
unjust
.
On
one
side
of
me
Archbishop
Manning
's
fidus
Achates
,
'
and
the
speaker
took
off
his
large
straw
hat
and
gracefully
waved
it
—
first
to
the
right
,
then
to
the
left
.
'
On
the
other
,
the
rector
of
the
parish
.
"
Cannon
to
right
of
me
,
cannon
to
left
of
me
.
"
I
submit
my
courage
is
unimpeachable
!
'
He
spoke
with
a
smiling
courtesy
as
excessive
as
his
silky
moustache
,
his
long
straw-coloured
beard
,
and
his
Panama
hat
.
Madame
de
Netteville
surveyed
him
with
cool
critical
eyes
.
Robert
smiled
slightly
,
acknowledged
the
bow
,
but
did
not
speak
.
Mr.
Wishart
evidently
took
no
heed
of
anything
but
his
own
thoughts
.
He
sat
bolt
upright
with
shining
excited
eyes
.
'
Ah
,
I
remember
that
article
of
yours
in
the
Fortnightly
!
How
you
sceptics
miss
the
point
!
'
And
out
came
a
stream
of
argument
and
denunciation
which
had
probably
lain
lava-hot
at
the
heart
of
the
young
convert
for
years
,
waiting
for
such
a
moment
as
this
,
when
he
had
before
him
at
close
quarters
two
of
the
most
famous
antagonists
of
his
faith
.
The
outburst
was
striking
,
but
certainly
unpardonably
ill-timed
.
Madame
de
Netteville
retreated
into
herself
with
a
shrug
.
Robert
,
in
whom
a
sore
nerve
had
been
set
jarring
,
did
his
utmost
to
begin
his
talk
with
her
again
.
In
vain
!
—
for
the
squire
struck
in
.
He
had
been
sitting
huddled
together
—
his
cynical
eyes
wandering
from
Wishart
to
Elsmere
—
when
suddenly
some
extravagant
remark
of
the
young
Catholic
,
and
Robert
's
effort
to
edge
away
from
the
conversation
,
caught
his
attention
at
the
same
moment
.
His
face
hardened
,
and
in
his
nasal
voice
he
dealt
a
swift
epigram
at
Mr.
Wishart
,
which
for
the
moment
left
the
young
disputant
floundering
.
But
only
for
the
moment
.
In
another
minute
or
two
the
argument
,
begun
so
casually
,
had
developed
into
a
serious
trial
of
strength
,
in
which
the
squire
and
young
Wishart
took
the
chief
parts
,
while
Mr.
Spooner
threw
in
a
laugh
and
a
sarcasm
here
and
there
.
And
as
long
as
Mr.
Wendover
talked
,
Madame
de
Netteville
listened
.
Robert
's
restless
repulsion
to
the
whole
incident
,
his
passionate
wish
to
escape
from
these
phrases
and
illustrations
and
turns
of
argument
which
were
all
so
wearisomely
stale
and
familiar
to
him
,
found
no
support
in
her
.
Mrs.
Darcy
dared
not
second
his
attempts
at
chat
,
for
Mr.
Wendover
,
on
the
rare
occasions
when
he
held
forth
,
was
accustomed
to
be
listened
to
;
and
Elsmere
was
of
too
sensitive
a
social
fibre
to
break
up
the
party
by
an
abrupt
exit
,
which
could
only
have
been
interpreted
in
one
way
.
So
he
stayed
,
and
perforce
listened
,
but
in
complete
silence
.
None
of
Mr.
Wendover
's
side-hits
touched
him
.
Only
as
the
talk
went
on
,
the
rector
in
the
background
got
paler
and
paler
;
his
eyes
,
as
they
passed
from
the
mobile
face
of
the
Catholic
convert
,
already
,
for
those
who
knew
,
marked
with
the
signs
of
death
,
to
the
bronzed
visage
of
the
squire
,
grew
duller
—
more
instinct
with
a
slowly-dawning
despair
.
Half
an
hour
later
he
was
once
more
on
the
road
leading
to
the
park
gate
.
He
had
a
vague
memory
that
at
parting
the
squire
had
shown
him
the
cordiality
of
one
suddenly
anxious
to
apologise
by
manner
,
if
not
by
word
.
Otherwise
everything
was
forgotten
.
He
was
only
anxious
,
half
dazed
as
he
was
,
to
make
out
wherein
lay
the
vital
difference
between
his
present
self
and
the
Elsmere
who
had
passed
along
that
road
an
hour
before
.
He
had
heard
a
conversation
on
religious
topics
,
wherein
nothing
was
new
to
him
,
nothing
affected
him
intellectually
at
all
.
What
was
there
in
that
to
break
the
spring
of
life
like
this
?
He
stood
still
,
heavily
trying
to
understand
himself
.
Then
gradually
it
became
clear
to
him
.
A
month
ago
,
every
word
of
that
hectic
young
pleader
for
Christ
and
the
Christian
certainties
would
have
roused
in
him
a
leaping
passionate
sympathy
—
the
heart
's
yearning
assent
,
even
when
the
intellect
was
most
perplexed
.
Now
that
inmost
strand
had
given
way
.
Suddenly
the
disintegrating
force
he
had
been
so
pitifully
,
so
blindly
,
holding
at
bay
had
penetrated
once
for
all
into
the
sanctuary
!
What
had
happened
to
him
had
been
the
first
real
failure
of
feeling
,
the
first
treachery
of
the
heart
.
Wishart
's
hopes
and
hatreds
,
and
sublime
defiances
of
man
's
petty
faculties
,
had
aroused
in
him
no
echo
,
no
response
.
His
soul
had
been
dead
within
him
.
As
he
gained
the
shelter
of
the
wooded
lane
beyond
the
gate
it
seemed
to
Robert
that
he
was
going
through
,
once
more
,
that
old
fierce
temptation
of
Bunyan
's
,
—
'
For
after
the
Lord
had
in
this
manner
thus
graciously
delivered
me
,
and
had
set
me
down
so
sweetly
in
the
faith
of
His
Holy
Gospel
,
and
had
given
me
such
strong
consolation
and
blessed
evidence
from
heaven
,
touching
my
interest
in
His
love
through
Christ
,
the
tempter
came
upon
me
again
,
and
that
with
a
more
grievous
and
dreadful
temptation
than
before
.
And
that
was
,
"
To
sell
and
part
with
this
most
blessed
Christ
;
to
exchange
Him
for
the
things
of
life
,
for
anything
!
"
The
temptation
lay
upon
me
for
the
space
of
a
year
,
and
did
follow
me
so
continually
that
I
was
not
rid
of
it
one
day
in
a
month
:
no
,
not
sometimes
one
hour
in
many
days
together
,
for
it
did
always
,
in
almost
whatever
I
thought
,
intermix
itself
therewith
,
in
such
sort
that
I
could
neither
eat
my
food
,
stoop
for
a
pin
,
chop
a
stick
,
or
cast
mine
eyes
to
look
on
this
or
that
,
but
still
the
temptation
would
come
:
"
Sell
Christ
for
this
,
or
sell
Christ
for
that
,
sell
Him
,
sell
Him
!
"
'
Was
this
what
lay
before
the
minister
of
God
now
in
this
selva
oscura
of
life
?
The
selling
of
the
Master
,
of
'
the
love
so
sweet
,
the
unction
spiritual
,
'
for
an
intellectual
satisfaction
,
the
ravaging
of
all
the
fair
places
of
the
heart
by
an
intellectual
need
!
And
still
through
all
the
despair
,
all
the
revolt
,
all
the
pain
,
which
made
the
summer
air
a
darkness
,
and
closed
every
sense
in
him
to
the
evening
beauty
,
he
felt
the
irresistible
march
and
pressure
of
the
new
instincts
,
the
new
forces
,
which
life
and
thought
had
been
calling
into
being
.
The
words
of
St.
Augustine
which
he
had
read
to
Catherine
,
taken
in
a
strange
new
sense
,
came
back
to
him
—
'
Commend
to
the
keeping
of
the
Truth
whatever
the
Truth
hath
given
thee
,
and
thou
shalt
lose
nothing
!
'
Was
it
the
summons
of
Truth
which
was
rending
the
whole
nature
in
this
way
?
Robert
stood
still
,
and
with
his
hands
locked
behind
him
,
and
his
face
turned
like
the
face
of
a
blind
man
towards
a
world
of
which
it
saw
nothing
,
went
through
a
desperate
catechism
of
himself
.
'
Do
I
believe
in
God
?
Surely
,
surely
!
"
Though
He
slay
me
yet
will
I
trust
in
Him
!
"
Do
I
believe
in
Christ
?
Yes
,
—
in
the
teacher
,
the
martyr
,
the
symbol
to
us
Westerns
of
all
things
heavenly
and
abiding
,
the
image
and
pledge
of
the
invisible
life
of
the
spirit
—
with
all
my
soul
and
all
my
mind
!
'
But
in
the
Man-God
,
the
Word
from
Eternity
,
—
in
a
wonder-working
Christ
,
in
a
risen
and
ascended
Jesus
,
in
the
living
Intercessor
and
Mediator
for
the
lives
of
His
doomed
brethren
?
'
He
waited
,
conscious
that
it
was
the
crisis
of
his
history
,
and
there
rose
in
him
,
as
though
articulated
one
by
one
by
an
audible
voice
,
words
of
irrevocable
meaning
.
'
Every
human
soul
in
which
the
voice
of
God
makes
itself
felt
,
enjoys
,
equally
with
Jesus
of
Nazareth
,
the
divine
sonship
,
and
"
miracles
do
not
happen
!
"
'
It
was
done
.
He
felt
for
the
moment
as
Bunyan
did
after
his
lesser
defeat
.
'
Now
was
the
battle
won
,
and
down
fell
I
as
a
bird
that
is
shot
from
the
top
of
a
tree
into
great
guilt
and
fearful
despair
.
Thus
getting
out
of
my
bed
I
went
moping
in
the
field
;
but
God
knows
with
as
heavy
an
heart
as
mortal
man
I
think
could
bear
,
where
for
the
space
of
two
hours
I
was
like
a
man
bereft
of
life
.
'
All
these
years
of
happy
spiritual
certainty
,
of
rejoicing
oneness
with
Christ
,
to
end
in
this
wreck
and
loss
!
Was
not
this
indeed
'
il
gran
rifiuto
'
—
the
greatest
of
which
human
daring
is
capable
?
The
lane
darkened
round
him
.
Not
a
soul
was
in
sight
.
The
only
sounds
were
the
sounds
of
a
gently-breathing
nature
,
sounds
of
birds
and
swaying
branches
and
intermittent
gusts
of
air
rustling
through
the
gorse
and
the
drifts
of
last
year
's
leaves
in
the
wood
beside
him
.
He
moved
mechanically
onward
,
and
presently
,
after
the
first
flutter
of
desolate
terror
had
passed
away
,
with
a
new
inrushing
sense
which
seemed
to
him
a
sense
of
liberty
—
of
infinite
expansion
.
Suddenly
the
trees
before
him
thinned
,
the
ground
sloped
away
,
and
there
to
the
left
on
the
westernmost
edge
of
the
hill
lay
the
square
stone
rectory
,
its
windows
open
to
the
evening
coolness
,
a
white
flutter
of
pigeons
round
the
dovecote
on
the
side
lawn
,
the
gold
of
the
August
wheat
in
the
great
cornfield
showing
against
the
heavy
girdle
of
oak-wood
.
Robert
stood
gazing
at
it
—
the
home
consecrated
by
love
,
by
effort
,
by
faith
.
The
high
alternations
of
intellectual
and
spiritual
debate
,
the
strange
emerging
sense
of
deliverance
,
gave
way
to
a
most
bitter
human
pang
of
misery
.
'
O
God
!
My
wife
—
my
work
!
'
...
There
was
a
sound
of
a
voice
calling
—
Catherine
's
voice
calling
for
him
.
He
leant
against
the
gate
of
the
wood-path
,
struggling
sternly
with
himself
.
This
was
no
simple
matter
of
his
own
intellectual
consistency
or
happiness
.
Another
's
whole
life
was
concerned
.
Any
precipitate
speech
,
or
hasty
action
,
would
be
a
crime
.
A
man
is
bound
above
all
things
to
protect
those
who
depend
on
him
from
his
own
immature
or
revocable
impulses
.
Not
a
word
yet
,
till
this
sense
of
convulsion
and
upheaval
had
passed
away
,
and
the
mind
was
once
more
its
own
master
.
He
opened
the
gate
and
went
towards
her
.
She
was
strolling
along
the
path
looking
out
for
him
,
one
delicate
hand
gathering
up
her
long
evening
dress
—
that
very
same
black
brocade
she
had
worn
in
the
old
days
at
Burwood
—
the
other
playing
with
their
Dandie
Dinmont
puppy
who
was
leaping
beside
her
.
As
she
caught
sight
of
him
,
there
was
the
flashing
smile
,
the
hurrying
step
.
And
he
felt
he
could
but
just
drag
himself
to
meet
her
.
'
Robert
,
how
long
you
have
been
!
I
thought
you
must
have
stayed
to
dinner
after
all
!
And
how
tired
you
seem
!
'
'
I
had
a
long
walk
,
'
he
said
,
catching
her
hand
,
as
it
slipped
itself
under
his
arm
,
and
clinging
to
it
as
though
to
a
support
.
'
And
I
am
tired
.
There
is
no
use
whatever
in
denying
it
.
'
His
voice
was
light
,
but
if
it
had
not
been
so
dark
she
must
have
been
startled
by
his
face
.
As
they
went
on
towards
the
house
,
however
,
she
scolding
him
for
over-walking
,
he
won
his
battle
with
himself
.
He
went
through
the
evening
so
that
even
Catherine
's
jealous
eyes
saw
nothing
but
extra
fatigue
.
In
the
most
desperate
straits
of
life
love
is
still
the
fountain
of
all
endurance
,
and
if
ever
a
man
loved
it
was
Robert
Elsmere
.
But
that
night
,
as
he
lay
sleepless
in
their
quiet
room
,
with
the
window
open
to
the
stars
and
to
the
rising
gusts
of
wind
,
which
blew
the
petals
of
the
cluster-rose
outside
in
drifts
of
'
fair
weather
snow
'
on
to
the
window-sill
,
he
went
through
an
agony
which
no
words
can
adequately
describe
.
He
must
,
of
course
,
give
up
his
living
and
his
orders
.
His
standards
and
judgments
had
always
been
simple
and
plain
in
these
respects
.
In
other
men
it
might
be
right
and
possible
that
they
should
live
on
in
the
ministry
of
the
Church
,
doing
the
humane
and
charitable
work
of
the
Church
,
while
refusing
assent
to
the
intellectual
and
dogmatic
framework
on
which
the
Church
system
rests
;
but
for
himself
it
would
be
neither
right
nor
wrong
,
but
simply
impossible
.
He
did
not
argue
or
reason
about
it
.
There
was
a
favourite
axiom
of
Mr.
Grey
's
which
had
become
part
of
his
pupil
's
spiritual
endowment
,
and
which
was
perpetually
present
to
him
at
this
crisis
of
his
life
,
in
the
spirit
,
if
not
in
the
letter
—
'
Conviction
is
the
Conscience
of
the
Mind
.
'
And
with
this
intellectual
conscience
he
was
no
more
capable
of
trifling
than
with
the
moral
conscience
.
The
night
passed
away
.
How
the
rare
intermittent
sounds
impressed
themselves
upon
him
!
—
the
stir
of
the
child
's
waking
soon
after
midnight
in
the
room
overhead
;
the
cry
of
the
owls
on
the
oak-wood
;
the
purring
of
the
night-jars
on
the
common
;
the
morning
chatter
of
the
swallows
round
the
eaves
.
With
the
first
invasion
of
the
dawn
Robert
raised
himself
and
looked
at
Catherine
.
She
was
sleeping
with
that
light
sound
sleep
which
belongs
to
health
of
body
and
mind
,
one
hand
under
her
face
,
the
other
stretched
out
in
soft
relaxation
beside
her
.
Her
husband
hung
over
her
in
a
bewilderment
of
feeling
.
Before
him
passed
all
sorts
of
incoherent
pictures
of
the
future
;
the
mind
was
caught
by
all
manner
of
incongruous
details
in
that
saddest
uprooting
which
lay
before
him
.
How
her
sleep
,
her
ignorance
,
reproached
him
!
He
thought
of
the
wreck
of
all
her
pure
ambitions
—
for
him
,
for
their
common
work
,
for
the
people
she
had
come
to
love
;
the
ruin
of
her
life
of
charity
and
tender
usefulness
,
the
darkening
of
all
her
hopes
,
the
shaking
of
all
her
trust
.
Two
years
of
devotion
,
of
exquisite
self-surrender
,
had
brought
her
to
this
!
It
was
for
this
he
had
lured
her
from
the
shelter
of
her
hills
,
for
this
she
had
opened
to
him
all
her
sweet
stores
of
faith
,
all
the
deepest
springs
of
her
womanhood
.
Oh
,
how
she
must
suffer
!
The
thought
of
it
and
his
own
helplessness
wrung
his
heart
.
Oh
,
could
he
keep
her
love
through
it
all
?
There
was
an
unspeakable
dread
mingled
with
his
grief
—
his
remorse
.
It
had
been
there
for
months
.
In
her
eyes
would
not
only
pain
but
sin
divide
them
?
Could
he
possibly
prevent
her
whole
relation
to
him
from
altering
and
dwindling
?
It
was
to
be
the
problem
of
his
remaining
life
.
With
a
great
cry
of
the
soul
to
that
God
it
yearned
and
felt
for
through
all
the
darkness
and
ruin
which
encompassed
it
,
he
laid
his
hand
on
hers
with
the
timidest
passing
touch
.
'
Catherine
,
I
will
make
amends
!
My
wife
,
I
will
make
amends
!
'
CHAPTER
XXVII
The
next
morning
Catherine
,
finding
that
Robert
still
slept
on
after
their
usual
waking
time
,
and
remembering
his
exhaustion
of
the
night
before
,
left
him
softly
,
and
kept
the
house
quiet
that
he
might
not
be
disturbed
.
She
was
in
charge
of
the
now
toddling
Mary
in
the
dining-room
when
the
door
opened
and
Robert
appeared
.
At
sight
of
him
she
sprang
up
with
a
half-cry
;
the
face
seemed
to
have
lost
all
its
fresh
colour
,
its
look
of
sun
and
air
;
the
eyes
were
sunk
;
the
lips
and
chin
lined
and
drawn
.
It
was
like
a
face
from
which
the
youth
had
suddenly
been
struck
out
.
'
Robert
!
—
'
but
her
question
died
on
her
lips
.
'
A
bad
night
,
darling
,
and
a
bad
headache
,
'
he
said
,
groping
his
way
,
as
it
seemed
to
her
,
to
the
table
,
his
hand
leaning
on
her
arm
.
'
Give
me
some
breakfast
.
'
She
restrained
herself
at
once
,
put
him
into
an
armchair
by
the
window
,
and
cared
for
him
in
her
tender
noiseless
way
.
But
she
had
grown
almost
as
pale
as
he
,
and
her
heart
was
like
lead
.
'
Will
you
send
me
off
for
the
day
to
Thurston
ponds
?
'
he
said
presently
,
trying
to
smile
with
lips
so
stiff
and
nerveless
that
the
will
had
small
control
over
them
.
'
Can
you
walk
so
far
?
You
did
overdo
it
yesterday
,
you
know
.
You
have
never
got
over
Mile
End
,
Robert
.
'
But
her
voice
had
a
note
in
it
which
in
his
weakness
he
could
hardly
bear
.
He
thirsted
to
be
alone
again
,
to
be
able
to
think
over
quietly
what
was
best
for
her
—
for
them
both
.
There
must
be
a
next
step
,
and
in
her
neighbourhood
he
was
too
feeble
,
too
tortured
,
to
decide
upon
it
.
'
No
more
,
dear
—
no
more
,
'
he
said
impatiently
,
as
she
tried
to
feed
him
;
then
he
added
as
he
rose
:
'
Do
n't
make
arrangements
for
our
going
next
week
,
Catherine
;
it
ca
n't
be
so
soon
.
'
Catherine
looked
at
him
with
eyes
of
utter
dismay
.
The
sustaining
hope
of
all
these
difficult
weeks
,
which
had
slipped
with
such
terrible
unexpectedness
into
their
happy
life
,
was
swept
away
from
her
.
'
Robert
,
you
ought
to
go
.
'
'
I
have
too
many
things
to
arrange
,
'
he
said
sharply
,
almost
irritably
.
Then
his
tone
changed
:
'
Do
n't
urge
it
,
Catherine
.
'
His
eyes
in
their
weariness
seemed
to
entreat
her
not
to
argue
.
She
stooped
and
kissed
him
,
her
lips
trembling
.
'
When
do
you
want
to
go
to
Thurston
?
'
'
As
soon
as
possible
.
Can
you
find
me
my
fishing-basket
and
get
me
some
sandwiches
?
I
shall
only
lounge
there
and
take
it
easy
.
'
She
did
everything
for
him
that
wifely
hands
could
do
.
Then
when
his
fishing-basket
was
strapped
on
,
and
his
lunch
was
slipped
into
the
capacious
pocket
of
the
well-worn
shooting
coat
,
she
threw
her
arms
round
him
.
'
Robert
,
you
will
come
away
soon
.
'
He
roused
himself
and
kissed
her
.
'
I
will
,
'
he
said
simply
,
withdrawing
,
however
,
from
her
grasp
as
though
he
could
not
bear
those
close
pleading
eyes
.
'
Good-bye
!
I
shall
be
back
some
time
in
the
afternoon
.
'
From
her
post
beside
the
study
window
she
watched
him
take
the
short
cut
across
the
cornfield
.
She
was
miserable
,
and
all
at
sea
.
A
week
ago
he
had
been
so
like
himself
again
,
and
now
—
—
!
Never
had
she
seen
him
in
anything
like
this
state
of
physical
and
mental
collapse
.
'
Oh
,
Robert
,
'
she
cried
under
her
breath
,
with
an
abandonment
like
a
child
's
,
strong
soul
that
she
was
,
'
why
wo
n't
you
tell
me
,
dear
?
Why
wo
n't
you
let
me
share
?
I
might
help
you
through
—
I
might
.
'
She
supposed
he
must
be
again
in
trouble
of
mind
.
A
weaker
woman
would
have
implored
,
tormented
,
till
she
knew
all
.
Catherine
's
very
strength
and
delicacy
of
nature
,
and
that
respect
which
was
inbred
in
her
for
the
sacra
of
the
inner
life
,
stood
in
her
way
.
She
could
not
catechise
him
,
and
force
his
confidence
on
this
subject
of
all
others
.
It
must
be
given
freely
.
And
oh
!
it
was
so
long
in
coming
!
Surely
,
surely
,
it
must
be
mainly
physical
,
the
result
of
over-strain
—
expressing
itself
in
characteristic
mental
worry
,
just
as
daily
life
reproduces
itself
in
dreams
.
The
worldly
man
suffers
at
such
times
through
worldly
things
,
the
religious
man
through
his
religion
.
Comforting
herself
a
little
with
thoughts
of
this
kind
,
and
with
certain
more
or
less
vague
preparations
for
departure
,
Catherine
got
through
the
morning
as
best
she
might
.
Meanwhile
,
Robert
was
trudging
along
to
Thurston
under
a
sky
which
,
after
a
few
threatening
showers
,
promised
once
more
to
be
a
sky
of
intense
heat
.
He
had
with
him
all
the
tackle
necessary
for
spooning
pike
,
a
sport
the
novelty
and
success
of
which
had
hugely
commended
it
the
year
before
to
those
Esau-like
instincts
Murewell
had
so
much
developed
in
him
.
And
now
—
oh
the
weariness
of
the
August
warmth
,
and
the
long
stretches
of
sandy
road
!
By
the
time
he
reached
the
ponds
he
was
tired
out
;
but
instead
of
stopping
at
the
largest
of
the
three
,
where
a
picturesque
group
of
old
brick
cottages
brought
a
reminder
of
man
and
his
works
into
the
prairie
solitude
of
the
common
,
he
pushed
on
to
a
smaller
pool
just
beyond
,
now
hidden
in
a
green
cloud
of
birch-wood
.
Here
,
after
pushing
his
way
through
the
closely-set
trees
,
he
made
some
futile
attempts
at
fishing
,
only
to
put
up
his
rod
long
before
the
morning
was
over
and
lay
it
beside
him
on
the
bank
.
And
there
he
sat
for
hours
,
vaguely
watching
the
reflection
of
the
clouds
,
the
gambols
and
quarrels
of
the
waterfowl
,
the
ways
of
the
birds
,
the
alternations
of
sun
and
shadow
on
the
softly-moving
trees
,
—
the
real
self
of
him
passing
all
the
while
through
an
interminable
inward
drama
,
starting
from
the
past
,
stretching
to
the
future
,
steeped
in
passion
,
in
pity
,
in
regret
.
He
thought
of
the
feelings
with
which
he
had
taken
orders
,
of
Oxford
scenes
and
Oxford
persons
,
of
the
efforts
,
the
pains
,
the
successes
of
his
first
year
at
Murewell
.
What
a
ghastly
mistake
it
had
all
been
!
He
felt
a
kind
of
sore
contempt
for
himself
,
for
his
own
lack
of
prescience
,
of
self-knowledge
.
His
life
looked
to
him
so
shallow
and
worthless
.
How
does
a
man
ever
retrieve
such
a
false
step
?
He
groaned
aloud
as
he
thought
of
Catherine
linked
to
one
born
to
defeat
her
hopes
,
and
all
that
natural
pride
that
a
woman
feels
in
the
strength
and
consistency
of
the
man
she
loves
.
As
he
sat
there
by
the
water
he
touched
the
depths
of
self-humiliation
.
As
to
religious
belief
,
everything
was
a
chaos
.
What
might
be
to
him
the
ultimate
forms
and
condition
of
thought
,
the
tired
mind
was
quite
incapable
of
divining
.
To
every
stage
in
the
process
of
destruction
it
was
feverishly
alive
.
But
its
formative
energy
was
for
the
moment
gone
.
The
foundations
were
swept
away
,
and
everything
must
be
built
up
afresh
.
Only
the
habit
of
faith
held
,
the
close
instinctive
clinging
to
a
Power
beyond
sense
—
a
Goodness
,
a
Will
,
not
man
's
.
The
soul
had
been
stripped
of
its
old
defences
,
but
at
his
worst
there
was
never
a
moment
when
Elsmere
felt
himself
utterly
forsaken
.
But
his
people
—
his
work
!
Every
now
and
then
into
the
fragmentary
debate
still
going
on
within
him
there
would
flash
little
pictures
of
Murewell
.
The
green
,
with
the
sun
on
the
house-fronts
,
the
awning
over
the
village
shop
,
the
vane
on
the
old
'
Manor-house
,
'
the
familiar
figures
at
the
doors
;
his
church
,
with
every
figure
in
the
Sunday
congregation
as
clear
to
him
as
though
he
were
that
moment
in
the
pulpit
;
the
children
he
had
taught
,
the
sick
he
had
nursed
,
this
or
that
weather-beaten
or
brutalised
peasant
whose
history
he
knew
,
whose
tragic
secrets
he
had
learnt
,
—
all
these
memories
and
images
clung
about
him
as
though
with
ghostly
hands
,
asking
,
'
Why
will
you
desert
us
?
You
are
ours
—
stay
with
us
!
'
Then
his
thoughts
would
run
over
the
future
,
dwelling
,
with
a
tense
realistic
sharpness
,
on
every
detail
which
lay
before
him
—
the
arrangements
with
his
locum
tenens
,
the
interview
with
the
bishop
,
the
parting
with
the
rectory
.
It
even
occurred
to
him
to
wonder
what
must
be
done
with
Martha
and
his
mother
's
cottage
.
His
mother
?
As
he
thought
of
her
a
wave
of
unutterable
longing
rose
and
broke
.
The
difficult
tears
stood
in
his
eyes
.
He
had
a
strange
conviction
that
at
this
crisis
of
his
life
she
of
all
human
beings
would
have
understood
him
best
.
When
would
the
squire
know
?
He
pictured
the
interview
with
him
,
divining
,
with
the
same
abnormal
clearness
of
inward
vision
,
Mr.
Wendover
's
start
of
mingled
triumph
and
impatience
—
triumph
in
the
new
recruit
,
impatience
with
the
Quixotic
folly
which
could
lead
a
man
to
look
upon
orthodox
dogma
as
a
thing
real
enough
to
be
publicly
renounced
,
or
clerical
pledges
as
more
than
a
form
of
words
.
So
henceforth
he
was
on
the
same
side
with
the
squire
,
held
by
an
indiscriminating
world
as
bound
to
the
same
negations
,
the
same
hostilities
!
The
thought
roused
in
him
a
sudden
fierceness
of
moral
repugnance
.
The
squire
and
Edward
Langham
—
they
were
the
only
sceptics
of
whom
he
had
ever
had
close
and
personal
experience
.
And
with
all
his
old
affection
for
Langham
,
all
his
frank
sense
of
pliancy
in
the
squire
's
hands
,
yet
in
this
strait
of
life
how
he
shrinks
from
them
both
!
—
souls
at
war
with
life
and
man
,
without
holiness
,
without
perfume
!
Is
it
the
law
of
things
?
'
Once
loosen
a
man
's
religio
,
once
fling
away
the
old
binding
elements
,
the
old
traditional
restraints
which
have
made
him
what
he
is
,
and
moral
deterioration
is
certain
.
'
How
often
he
has
heard
it
said
!
How
often
he
has
endorsed
it
!
Is
it
true
?
His
heart
grows
cold
within
him
.
What
good
man
can
ever
contemplate
with
patience
the
loss
,
not
of
friends
or
happiness
,
but
of
his
best
self
?
What
shall
it
profit
a
man
,
indeed
,
if
he
gain
the
whole
world
—
the
whole
world
of
knowledge
and
speculation
—
and
lose
his
own
soul
?
And
then
,
for
his
endless
comfort
,
there
rose
on
the
inward
eye
the
vision
of
an
Oxford
lecture
room
,
of
a
short
sturdy
figure
,
of
a
great
brow
over
honest
eyes
,
of
words
alive
with
moral
passion
,
of
thought
instinct
with
the
beauty
of
holiness
.
Thank
God
for
the
saint
in
Henry
Grey
!
Thinking
of
it
,
Robert
felt
his
own
self-respect
re-born
.
Oh
!
to
see
Grey
in
the
flesh
,
to
get
his
advice
,
his
approval
!
Even
though
it
was
the
depth
of
vacation
,
Grey
was
so
closely
connected
with
the
town
,
as
distinguished
from
the
university
,
life
of
Oxford
,
it
might
be
quite
possible
to
find
him
at
home
.
Elsmere
suddenly
determined
to
find
out
at
once
if
he
could
be
seen
.
And
if
so
,
he
would
go
over
to
Oxford
at
once
.
This
should
be
the
next
step
,
and
he
would
say
nothing
to
Catherine
till
afterwards
.
He
felt
himself
so
dull
,
so
weary
,
so
resourceless
.
Grey
should
help
and
counsel
him
,
should
send
him
back
with
a
clearer
brain
—
a
quicker
ingenuity
of
love
,
better
furnished
against
her
pain
and
his
own
.
Then
everything
else
was
forgotten
;
and
he
thought
of
nothing
but
that
grisly
moment
of
waking
in
the
empty
room
,
when
still
believing
it
night
,
he
had
put
out
his
hand
for
his
wife
,
and
with
a
superstitious
pang
had
felt
himself
alone
.
His
heart
torn
with
a
hundred
inarticulate
cries
of
memory
and
grief
,
he
sat
on
beside
the
water
,
unconscious
of
the
passing
of
time
,
his
gray
eyes
staring
sightlessly
at
the
wood-pigeons
as
they
flew
past
him
,
at
the
occasional
flash
of
a
kingfisher
,
at
the
moving
panorama
of
summer
clouds
above
the
trees
opposite
.
At
last
he
was
startled
back
to
consciousness
by
the
fall
of
a
few
heavy
drops
of
warm
rain
.
He
looked
at
his
watch
.
It
was
nearly
four
o'clock
.
He
rose
,
stiff
and
cramped
with
sitting
,
and
at
the
same
instant
he
saw
beyond
the
birchwood
on
the
open
stretch
of
common
a
boy
's
figure
,
which
,
after
a
step
or
two
,
he
recognised
as
Ned
Irwin
.
'
You
here
,
Ned
?
'
he
said
,
stopping
,
the
pastoral
temper
in
him
reasserting
itself
at
once
.
'
Why
are
n't
you
harvesting
?
'
'
Please
,
sir
,
I
finished
with
the
Hall
medders
yesterday
,
and
Mr.
Carter
's
job
do
n't
begin
till
to-morrow
.
He
's
got
a
machine
coming
from
Witley
,
he
hev
,
and
they
wo
n't
let
him
have
it
till
Thursday
,
so
I
've
been
out
after
things
for
the
club
.
'
And
opening
the
tin
box
strapped
on
his
back
,
he
showed
the
day
's
capture
of
butterflies
,
and
some
belated
birds
'
eggs
,
the
plunder
of
a
bit
of
common
where
the
turf
for
the
winter
's
burning
was
just
being
cut
.
'
Goatsucker
,
linnet
,
stonechat
,
'
said
the
rector
,
fingering
them
.
'
Well
done
for
August
,
Ned
.
If
you
have
n't
got
anything
better
to
do
with
them
,
give
them
to
that
small
boy
of
Mr.
Carter
's
that
's
been
ill
so
long
.
He
'd
thank
you
for
them
,
I
know
.
'
The
lad
nodded
with
a
guttural
sound
of
assent
.
Then
his
new-born
scientific
ardour
seemed
to
struggle
with
his
rustic
costiveness
of
speech
.
'
I
've
been
just
watching
a
queer
creetur
,
'
he
said
at
last
hurriedly
;
'
I
b'leeve
he
's
that
un
.
'
And
he
pulled
out
a
well-thumbed
handbook
,
and
pointed
to
a
cut
of
the
grasshopper
warbler
.
'
Whereabouts
?
'
asked
Robert
,
wondering
the
while
at
his
own
start
of
interest
.
'
In
that
bit
of
common
t'other
side
the
big
pond
,
'
said
Ned
,
pointing
,
his
brick-red
countenance
kindling
into
suppressed
excitement
.
'
Come
and
show
me
!
'
said
the
rector
,
and
the
two
went
off
together
.
And
sure
enough
,
after
a
little
beating
about
,
they
heard
the
note
which
had
roused
the
lad
's
curiosity
,
the
loud
whirr
of
a
creature
that
should
have
been
a
grasshopper
,
and
was
not
.
They
stalked
the
bird
a
few
yards
,
stooping
and
crouching
,
Robert
's
eager
hand
on
the
boy
's
arm
,
whenever
the
clumsy
rustic
movements
made
too
much
noise
among
the
underwood
.
They
watched
it
uttering
its
jarring
imitative
note
on
bush
after
bush
,
just
dropping
to
the
ground
as
they
came
near
,
and
flitting
a
yard
or
two
farther
,
but
otherwise
showing
no
sign
of
alarm
at
their
presence
.
Then
suddenly
the
impulse
which
had
been
leading
him
on
died
in
the
rector
.
He
stood
upright
,
with
a
long
sigh
.
'
I
must
go
home
,
Ned
,
'
he
said
abruptly
.
'
Where
are
you
off
to
?
'
'
Please
,
sir
,
there
's
my
sister
at
the
cottage
,
her
as
married
Jim
,
the
under-keeper
.
I
be
going
there
for
my
tea
.
'
'
Come
along
,
then
,
we
can
go
together
.
'
They
trudged
along
in
silence
;
presently
Robert
turned
on
his
companion
.
'
Ned
,
this
natural
history
has
been
a
fine
thing
for
you
,
my
lad
;
mind
you
stick
to
it
.
That
and
good
work
will
make
a
man
of
you
.
When
I
go
away
—
—
'
The
boy
started
and
stopped
dead
,
his
dumb
animal
eyes
fixed
on
his
companion
.
'
You
know
I
shall
soon
be
going
off
on
my
holiday
,
'
said
Robert
,
smiling
faintly
;
adding
hurriedly
as
the
boy
's
face
resumed
its
ordinary
expression
:
'
But
some
day
,
Ned
,
I
shall
go
for
good
.
I
do
n't
know
whether
you
've
been
depending
on
me
—
you
and
some
of
the
others
.
I
think
perhaps
you
have
.
If
so
,
do
n't
depend
on
me
,
Ned
,
any
more
!
It
must
all
come
to
an
end
—
everything
must
—
everything
!
—
except
the
struggle
to
be
a
man
in
the
world
,
and
not
a
beast
—
to
make
one
's
heart
clean
and
soft
,
and
not
hard
and
vile
.
That
is
the
one
thing
that
matters
,
and
lasts
.
Ah
,
never
forget
that
,
Ned
!
Never
forget
it
!
'
He
stood
still
,
towering
over
the
slouching
thick-set
form
beside
him
,
his
pale
intensity
of
look
giving
a
rare
dignity
and
beauty
to
the
face
which
owed
so
little
of
its
attractiveness
to
comeliness
of
feature
.
He
had
the
makings
of
a
true
shepherd
of
men
,
and
his
mind
as
he
spoke
was
crossed
by
a
hundred
different
currents
of
feeling
—
bitterness
,
pain
,
and
yearning
unspeakable
.
No
man
could
feel
the
wrench
that
lay
before
him
more
than
he
.
Ned
Irwin
said
not
a
word
.
His
heavy
lids
were
dropped
over
his
deep-set
eye
;
he
stood
motionless
,
nervously
fiddling
with
his
butterfly
net
—
awkwardness
,
and
,
as
it
seemed
,
irresponsiveness
,
in
his
whole
attitude
.
Robert
gathered
himself
together
.
'
Well
,
good-night
,
my
lad
,
'
he
said
with
a
change
of
tone
.
'
Good
luck
to
you
;
be
off
to
your
tea
!
'
And
he
turned
away
,
striding
swiftly
over
the
short
burnt
August
grass
in
the
direction
of
the
Murewell
woods
,
which
rose
in
a
blue
haze
of
heat
against
the
slumberous
afternoon
sky
.
He
had
not
gone
a
hundred
yards
before
he
heard
a
clattering
after
him
.
He
stopped
,
and
Ned
came
up
with
him
.
'
They
're
heavy
,
them
things
,
'
said
the
boy
,
desperately
blurting
it
out
,
and
pointing
,
with
heaving
chest
and
panting
breath
,
to
the
rod
and
basket
.
'
I
am
going
that
way
,
I
can
leave
un
at
the
rectory
.
'
Robert
's
eyes
gleamed
.
'
They
are
no
weight
,
Ned
—
'
cause
why
?
I
've
been
lazy
and
caught
no
fish
!
But
there
,
'
—
after
a
moment
's
hesitation
he
slipped
off
the
basket
and
rod
,
and
put
them
into
the
begrimed
hands
held
out
for
them
.
'
Bring
them
when
you
like
;
I
do
n't
know
when
I
shall
want
them
again
.
Thank
you
,
and
God
bless
you
!
'
The
boy
was
off
with
his
booty
in
a
second
.
'
Perhaps
he
'll
like
to
think
he
did
it
for
me
,
by
and
by
,
'
said
Robert
sadly
to
himself
,
moving
on
,
a
little
moisture
in
the
clear
gray
eye
.
About
three
o'clock
next
day
Robert
was
in
Oxford
.
The
night
before
he
had
telegraphed
to
ask
if
Grey
was
at
home
.
The
reply
had
been
—
'
Here
for
a
week
on
way
north
;
come
by
all
means
.
'
Oh
!
that
look
of
Catherine
's
when
he
had
told
her
of
his
plan
,
trying
in
vain
to
make
it
look
merely
casual
and
ordinary
.
'
It
is
more
than
a
year
since
I
have
set
eyes
on
Grey
,
Catherine
.
And
the
day
's
change
would
be
a
boon
.
I
could
stay
the
night
at
Merton
,
and
get
home
early
next
day
.
'
But
as
he
turned
a
pleading
look
to
her
,
he
had
been
startled
by
the
sudden
rigidity
of
face
and
form
.
Her
silence
had
in
it
an
intense
,
almost
a
haughty
,
reproach
,
which
she
was
too
keenly
hurt
to
put
into
words
.
He
caught
her
by
the
arm
,
and
drew
her
forcibly
to
him
.
There
he
made
her
look
into
the
eyes
which
were
full
of
nothing
but
the
most
passionate
imploring
affection
.
'
Have
patience
a
little
more
,
Catherine
!
'
he
just
murmured
.
'
Oh
,
how
I
have
blessed
you
for
silence
!
Only
till
I
come
back
!
'
'
Till
you
come
back
,
'
she
repeated
slowly
.
'
I
cannot
bear
it
any
longer
,
Robert
,
that
you
should
give
others
your
confidence
,
and
not
me
.
'
He
groaned
and
let
her
go
.
No
—
there
should
be
but
one
day
more
of
silence
,
and
that
day
was
interposed
for
her
sake
.
If
Grey
from
his
calmer
standpoint
bade
him
wait
and
test
himself
,
before
taking
any
irrevocable
step
,
he
would
obey
him
.
And
if
so
,
the
worst
pang
of
all
need
not
yet
be
inflicted
on
Catherine
,
though
as
to
his
state
of
mind
he
would
be
perfectly
open
with
her
.
A
few
hours
later
his
cab
deposited
him
at
the
well-known
door
.
It
seemed
to
him
that
he
and
the
scorched
plane-trees
lining
the
sides
of
the
road
were
the
only
living
things
in
the
wide
sun-beaten
street
.
Every
house
was
shut
up
.
Only
the
Greys
'
open
windows
,
amid
their
shuttered
neighbours
,
had
a
friendly
human
air
.
Yes
;
Mr.
Grey
was
in
,
and
expecting
Mr.
Elsmere
.
Robert
climbed
the
dim
familiar
staircase
,
his
heart
beating
fast
.
'
Elsmere
,
this
is
a
piece
of
good
fortune
!
'
And
the
two
men
,
after
a
grasp
of
the
hand
,
stood
front
ing
each
other
:
Mr.
Grey
,
a
light
of
pleasure
on
the
rugged
dark-complexioned
face
,
looking
up
at
his
taller
and
paler
visitor
.
But
Robert
could
find
nothing
to
say
in
return
;
and
in
an
instant
Mr.
Grey
's
quick
eye
detected
the
strained
nervous
emotion
of
the
man
before
him
.
'
Come
and
sit
down
,
Elsmere
—
there
,
in
the
window
,
where
we
can
talk
.
One
has
to
live
on
this
east
side
of
the
house
this
weather
.
'
'
In
the
first
place
,
'
said
Mr.
Grey
,
scrutinising
him
,
as
he
returned
to
his
own
book-littered
corner
of
the
window-seat
.
'
In
the
first
place
,
my
dear
fellow
,
I
ca
n't
congratulate
you
on
your
appearance
.
I
never
saw
a
man
look
in
worse
condition
—
to
be
up
and
about
.
'
'
That
's
nothing
!
'
said
Robert
almost
impatiently
.
'
I
want
a
holiday
,
I
believe
.
Grey
!
'
and
he
looked
nervously
out
over
garden
and
apple-trees
,
'
I
have
come
—
very
selfishly
—
to
ask
your
advice
;
to
throw
a
trouble
upon
you
,
to
claim
all
your
friendship
can
give
me
.
'
He
stopped
.
Mr.
Grey
was
silent
—
his
expression
changing
instantly
,
the
bright
eyes
profoundly
,
anxiously
attentive
.
'
I
have
just
come
to
the
conclusion
,
'
said
Robert
,
after
a
moment
,
with
quick
abruptness
,
'
that
I
ought
now
—
at
this
moment
—
to
leave
the
Church
,
and
give
up
my
living
,
for
reasons
which
I
will
describe
to
you
.
But
before
I
act
on
the
conclusion
,
I
wanted
the
light
of
your
mind
upon
it
,
seeing
that
—
that
—
other
persons
than
myself
are
concerned
.
'
'
Give
up
your
living
!
'
echoed
Mr.
Grey
in
a
low
voice
of
astonishment
.
He
sat
looking
at
the
face
and
figure
of
the
man
before
him
with
a
half-frowning
expression
.
How
often
Robert
had
seen
some
rash
exuberant
youth
quelled
by
that
momentary
frown
!
Essentially
conservative
as
was
the
inmost
nature
of
the
man
,
for
all
his
radicalism
there
were
few
things
for
which
Henry
Grey
felt
more
instinctive
distaste
than
for
unsteadiness
of
will
and
purpose
,
however
glorified
by
fine
names
.
Robert
knew
it
,
and
,
strangely
enough
,
felt
for
a
moment
in
the
presence
of
the
heretical
tutor
as
a
culprit
before
a
judge
.
'
It
is
,
of
course
,
a
matter
of
opinions
,
'
he
said
,
with
an
effort
.
'
Do
you
remember
,
before
I
took
orders
,
asking
whether
I
had
ever
had
difficulties
,
and
I
told
you
that
I
had
probably
never
gone
deep
enough
.
It
was
profoundly
true
,
though
I
did
n't
really
mean
it
.
But
this
year
—
—
No
,
no
,
I
have
not
been
merely
vain
and
hasty
!
I
may
be
a
shallow
creature
,
but
it
has
been
natural
growth
,
not
wantonness
.
'
And
at
last
his
eyes
met
Mr.
Grey
's
firmly
,
almost
with
solemnity
.
It
was
as
if
in
the
last
few
moments
he
had
been
instinctively
testing
the
quality
of
his
own
conduct
and
motives
by
the
touchstone
of
the
rare
personality
beside
him
;
and
they
had
stood
the
trial
.
There
was
such
pain
,
such
sincerity
,
above
all
such
freedom
from
littleness
of
soul
implied
in
words
and
look
,
that
Mr.
Grey
quickly
held
out
his
hand
.
Robert
grasped
it
,
and
felt
that
the
way
was
clear
before
him
.
'
Will
you
give
me
an
account
of
it
?
'
said
Mr.
Grey
,
and
his
tone
was
grave
sympathy
itself
.
'
Or
would
you
rather
confine
yourself
to
generalities
and
accomplished
facts
?
'
'
I
will
try
and
give
you
an
account
of
it
,
'
said
Robert
;
and
sitting
there
with
his
elbows
on
his
knees
,
his
gaze
fixed
on
the
yellowing
afternoon
sky
,
and
the
intricacies
of
the
garden-walls
between
them
and
the
new
Museum
,
he
went
through
the
history
of
the
last
two
years
.
He
described
the
beginnings
of
his
historical
work
,
the
gradual
enlargement
of
the
mind
's
horizons
,
and
the
intrusion
within
them
of
question
after
question
,
and
subject
after
subject
.
Then
he
mentioned
the
squire
's
name
.
'
Ah
!
'
exclaimed
Mr.
Grey
,
'
I
had
forgotten
you
were
that
man
's
neighbour
.
I
wonder
he
did
n't
set
you
against
the
whole
business
,
inhuman
old
cynic
!
'
He
spoke
with
the
strong
dislike
of
the
idealist
,
devoted
in
practice
to
an
everyday
ministry
to
human
need
,
for
the
intellectual
egotist
.
Robert
caught
and
relished
the
old
pugnacious
flash
in
the
eye
,
the
Midland
strength
of
accent
.
'
Cynic
he
is
,
not
altogether
inhuman
,
I
think
.
I
fought
him
about
his
drains
and
his
cottages
,
however
,
'
—
and
he
smiled
sadly
—
'
before
I
began
to
read
his
books
.
But
the
man
's
genius
is
incontestable
,
his
learning
enormous
.
He
found
me
in
a
susceptible
state
,
and
I
recognise
that
his
influence
immensely
accelerated
a
process
already
begun
.
'
Mr.
Grey
was
struck
with
the
simplicity
and
fulness
of
the
avowal
.
A
lesser
man
would
hardly
have
made
it
in
the
same
way
.
Rising
to
pace
up
and
down
the
room
—
the
familiar
action
recalling
vividly
to
Robert
the
Sunday
afternoons
of
bygone
years
—
he
began
to
put
questions
with
a
clearness
and
decision
that
made
them
so
many
guides
to
the
man
answering
,
through
the
tangle
of
his
own
recollections
.
'
I
see
,
'
said
the
tutor
at
last
,
his
hands
in
the
pockets
of
his
short
gray
coat
,
his
brow
bent
and
thoughtful
.
'
Well
,
the
process
in
you
has
been
the
typical
process
of
the
present
day
.
Abstract
thought
has
had
little
or
nothing
to
say
to
it
.
It
has
been
all
a
question
of
literary
and
historical
evidence
.
I
am
old-fashioned
enough
'
—
and
he
smiled
—
'
to
stick
to
the
à
priori
impossibility
of
miracles
,
but
then
I
am
a
philosopher
!
You
have
come
to
see
how
miracle
is
manufactured
,
to
recognise
in
it
merely
a
natural
inevitable
outgrowth
of
human
testimony
,
in
its
pre-scientific
stages
.
It
has
been
all
experimental
,
inductive
.
I
imagine
'
—
he
looked
up
—
'
you
did
n't
get
much
help
out
of
