Felix
Holt
:
The
Radical
:
By
George
Eliot
...
In
Three
Volumes
"
Upon
the
midlands
now
the
industrious
muse
doth
fall
,
The
shires
which
we
the
heart
of
England
well
may
call
.
·
·
·
·
·
·
·
·
My
native
country
thou
,
which
so
brave
spirits
has
bred
,
If
there
be
virtues
yet
remaining
in
thy
earth
,
Or
any
good
of
thine
thou
bred'st
into
my
birth
,
Accept
it
as
thine
own
,
whilst
now
I
sing
of
thee
,
Of
all
thy
later
brood
the
unworthiest
though
I
be
.
"
Drayton
:
Polyolbion
.
INTRODUCTION
.
Five-and-Thirty
years
ago
the
glory
had
not
yet
departed
from
the
old
coach-roads
:
the
great
roadside
inns
were
still
brilliant
with
well-polished
tankards
,
the
smiling
glances
of
pretty
barmaids
and
the
repartees
of
jocose
ostlers
;
the
mail
still
announced
itself
by
the
merry
notes
of
the
horn
;
the
hedge-cutter
or
the
rick-thatcher
might
still
know
the
exact
hour
by
the
unfailing
yet
otherwise
meteoric
apparition
of
the
pea-green
Tally-ho
or
the
yellow
Independent
;
and
elderly
gentlemen
in
pony-chaises
,
quartering
nervously
to
make
way
for
the
rolling
swinging
swiftness
,
had
not
ceased
to
remark
that
times
were
finely
changed
since
they
used
to
see
the
pack-horses
and
hear
the
tinkling
of
their
bells
on
this
very
highway
.
In
those
days
there
were
pocket
boroughs
,
a
Birmingham
unrepresented
in
Parliament
and
compelled
to
make
strong
representations
out
of
it
,
unrepealed
corn-laws
,
three-and-sixpenny
letters
,
a
brawny
and
many-breeding
pauperism
,
and
other
departed
evils
;
but
there
were
some
pleasant
things
too
,
which
have
also
departed
.
Non
omnia
grandior
oetas
quoe
fugiamus
habet
,
says
the
wise
goddess
:
you
have
not
the
best
of
it
in
all
things
,
O
youngsters
!
the
elderly
man
has
his
enviable
memories
,
and
not
the
least
of
them
is
the
memory
of
a
long
journey
in
mid-spring
or
autumn
on
the
outside
of
a
stage-coach
.
Posterity
may
be
shot
,
like
a
bullet
through
a
tube
,
by
atmospheric
pressure
from
Winchester
to
Newcastle
:
that
is
a
fine
result
to
have
among
our
hopes
;
but
the
slow
old-fashioned
way
of
getting
from
one
end
of
our
country
to
the
other
is
the
better
thing
to
have
in
the
memory
.
The
tube-journey
can
never
lend
much
to
picture
and
narrative
;
it
is
as
barren
as
an
exclamatory
O
!
Whereas
the
happy
outside
passenger
seated
on
the
box
from
the
dawn
to
the
gloaming
gathered
enough
stories
of
English
life
,
enough
of
English
labours
in
town
and
country
,
enough
aspects
of
earth
and
sky
,
to
make
episodes
for
a
modern
Odyssey
.
Suppose
only
that
his
journey
took
him
through
that
central
plain
,
watered
at
one
extremity
by
the
Avon
,
at
the
other
by
the
Trent
.
As
the
morning
silvered
the
meadows
with
their
long
lines
of
bushy
willows
marking
the
watercourses
,
or
burnished
the
golden
corn-ricks
clustered
near
the
long
roofs
of
some
midland
homestead
,
he
saw
the
full-uddered
cows
driven
from
their
pasture
to
the
early
milking
.
Perhaps
it
was
the
shepherd
,
head-servant
of
the
farm
,
who
drove
them
,
his
sheep-dog
following
with
a
heedless
unofficial
air
as
of
a
beadle
in
undress
.
The
shepherd
with
a
slow
and
slouching
walk
,
timed
by
the
walk
of
grazing
beasts
,
moved
aside
,
as
if
unwillingly
,
throwing
out
a
monosyllabic
hint
to
his
cattle
;
his
glance
,
accustomed
to
rest
on
things
very
near
the
earth
,
seemed
to
lift
itself
with
difficulty
to
the
coachman
.
Mail
or
stage
coach
for
him
belonged
to
that
mysterious
distant
system
of
things
called
"
Gover'ment
,
"
which
,
whatever
it
might
be
,
was
no
business
of
his
,
any
more
than
the
most
out-lying
nebula
or
the
coal-sacks
of
the
southern
hemisphere
:
his
solar
system
was
the
parish
;
the
master
's
temper
and
the
casualties
of
lambing-time
were
his
region
of
storms
.
He
cut
his
bread
and
bacon
with
his
pocket-knife
,
and
felt
no
bitterness
except
in
the
matter
of
pauper
labourers
and
the
bad-luck
that
sent
contrarious
seasons
and
the
sheep-rot
.
He
and
his
cows
were
soon
left
behind
,
and
the
homestead
too
,
with
its
pond
overhung
by
elder-trees
,
its
untidy
kitchen-garden
and
cone-shaped
yew-tree
arbour
.
But
everywhere
the
bushy
hedgerows
wasted
the
land
with
their
straggling
beauty
,
shrouded
the
grassy
borders
of
the
pastures
with
cat-kined
hazels
,
and
tossed
their
long
blackberry
branches
on
the
corn-fields
.
Perhaps
they
were
white
with
May
,
or
starred
with
pale
pink
dogroses
;
perhaps
the
urchins
were
already
nutting
amongst
them
,
or
gathering
the
plenteous
crabs
.
It
was
worth
the
journey
only
to
see
those
hedgerows
,
the
liberal
homes
of
unmarketable
beauty
—
of
the
purple-blossomed
ruby-berried
nightshade
,
of
the
wild
convolvulus
climbing
and
spreading
in
tendrilled
strength
till
it
made
a
great
curtain
of
pale-green
hearts
and
white
trumpets
,
of
the
many-tubed
honeysuckle
which
,
in
its
most
delicate
fragrance
,
hid
a
charm
more
subtle
and
penetrating
than
beauty
.
Even
if
it
were
winter
the
hedgerows
showed
their
coral
,
the
scarlet
haws
,
the
deep-crimson
hips
,
with
lingering
brown
leaves
to
make
a
resting-place
for
the
jewels
of
the
hoar-frost
.
Such
hedgerows
were
often
as
tall
as
the
labourers
'
cottages
dotted
along
the
lanes
,
or
clustered
into
a
small
hamlet
,
their
little
dingy
windows
telling
,
like
thick-filmed
eyes
,
of
nothing
but
the
darkness
within
.
The
passenger
on
the
coach-box
,
bowled
along
above
such
a
hamlet
,
saw
chiefly
the
roofs
of
it
:
probably
it
turned
its
back
on
the
road
,
and
seemed
to
lie
away
from
everything
but
its
own
patch
of
earth
and
sky
,
away
from
the
parish
church
by
long
fields
and
green
lanes
,
away
from
all
intercourse
except
that
of
tramps
.
If
its
face
could
be
seen
,
it
was
most
likely
dirty
;
but
the
dirt
was
Protestant
dirt
,
and
the
big
,
bold
,
gin-breathing
tramps
were
Protestant
tramps
.
There
was
no
sign
of
superstition
near
,
no
crucifix
or
image
to
indicate
a
misguided
reverence
:
the
inhabitants
were
probably
so
free
from
superstition
that
they
were
in
much
less
awe
of
the
parson
than
of
the
overseer
.
Yet
they
were
saved
from
the
excesses
of
Protestantism
by
not
knowing
how
to
read
,
and
by
the
absence
of
handlooms
and
mines
to
be
the
pioneers
of
Dissent
:
they
were
kept
safely
in
the
via
media
of
indifference
,
and
could
have
registered
themselves
in
the
census
by
a
big
black
mark
as
members
of
the
Church
of
England
.
But
there
were
trim
cheerful
villages
too
,
with
a
neat
or
handsome
parsonage
and
grey
church
set
in
the
midst
;
there
was
the
pleasant
tinkle
of
the
blacksmith
's
anvil
,
the
patient
cart-horses
waiting
at
his
door
;
the
basket-maker
peeling
his
willow
wands
in
the
sunshine
;
the
wheelwright
putting
the
last
touch
to
a
blue
cart
with
red
wheels
;
here
and
there
a
cottage
with
bright
transparent
windows
showing
pots
full
of
blooming
balsams
or
geraniums
,
and
little
gardens
in
front
all
double
daisies
or
dark
wallflowers
;
at
the
well
,
clean
and
comely
women
carrying
yoked
buckets
,
and
towards
the
free
school
small
Britons
dawdling
on
,
and
handling
their
marbles
in
the
pockets
of
unpatched
corduroys
adorned
with
brass
buttons
.
The
land
around
was
rich
and
marly
,
great
corn-stacks
stood
in
the
rick-yards
—
for
the
rick-burners
had
not
found
their
way
hither
;
the
homesteads
were
those
of
rich
farmers
who
paid
no
rent
,
or
had
the
rare
advantage
of
a
lease
,
and
could
afford
to
keep
their
corn
till
prices
had
risen
.
The
coach
would
be
sure
to
overtake
some
of
them
on
their
way
to
their
outlying
fields
or
to
the
market-town
,
sitting
heavily
on
their
well-groomed
horses
,
or
weighing
down
one
side
of
an
olive-green
gig
.
They
probably
thought
of
the
coach
with
some
contempt
,
as
an
accommodation
for
people
who
had
not
their
own
gigs
,
or
who
,
wanting
to
travel
to
London
and
such
distant
places
,
belonged
to
the
trading
and
less
solid
part
of
the
nation
.
The
passenger
on
the
box
could
see
that
this
was
the
district
of
protuberant
optimists
,
sure
that
old
England
was
the
best
of
all
possible
countries
,
and
that
if
there
were
any
facts
which
had
not
fallen
under
their
own
observation
,
they
were
facts
not
worth
observing
:
the
district
of
clean
little
market-towns
without
manufactures
,
of
fat
livings
,
an
aristocratic
clergy
,
and
low
poor-rates
.
But
as
the
day
wore
on
the
scene
would
change
:
the
land
would
begin
to
be
blackened
with
coal-pits
,
the
rattle
of
handlooms
to
be
heard
in
hamlets
and
villages
.
Here
were
powerful
men
walking
queerly
with
knees
bent
outward
from
squatting
in
the
mine
,
going
home
to
throw
themselves
down
in
their
blackened
flannel
and
sleep
through
the
daylight
,
then
rise
and
spend
much
of
their
high
wages
at
the
ale-house
with
their
fellows
of
the
Benefit
Club
;
here
the
pale
eager
faces
of
handloom-weavers
,
men
and
women
,
haggard
from
sitting
up
late
at
night
to
finish
the
week
's
work
,
hardly
begun
till
the
Wednesday
.
Everywhere
the
cottages
and
the
small
children
were
dirty
,
for
the
languid
mothers
gave
their
strength
to
the
loom
;
pious
Dissenting
women
,
perhaps
,
who
took
life
patiently
,
and
thought
that
salvation
depended
chiefly
on
predestination
,
and
not
at
all
on
cleanliness
.
The
gables
of
Dissenting
chapels
now
made
a
visible
sign
of
religion
,
and
of
a
meeting-place
to
counterbalance
the
ale-house
,
even
in
the
hamlets
;
but
if
a
couple
of
old
termagants
were
seen
tearing
each
other
's
caps
,
it
was
a
safe
conclusion
that
,
if
they
had
not
received
the
sacraments
of
the
Church
,
they
had
not
at
least
given
in
to
schismatic
rites
,
and
were
free
from
the
errors
of
Voluntaryism
.
The
breath
of
the
manufacturing
town
,
which
made
a
cloudy
day
and
a
red
gloom
by
night
on
the
horizon
,
diffused
itself
over
all
the
surrounding
country
,
filling
the
air
with
eager
unrest
.
Here
was
a
population
not
convinced
that
old
England
was
as
good
as
possible
;
here
were
multitudinous
men
and
women
aware
that
their
religion
was
not
exactly
the
religion
of
their
rulers
,
who
might
therefore
be
better
than
they
were
,
and
who
,
if
better
,
might
alter
many
things
which
now
made
the
world
perhaps
more
painful
than
it
need
be
,
and
certainly
more
sinful
.
Yet
there
were
the
grey
steeples
too
,
and
the
churchyards
,
with
their
grassy
mounds
and
venerable
headstones
,
sleeping
in
the
sunlight
;
there
were
broad
fields
and
homesteads
,
and
fine
old
woods
covering
a
rising
ground
,
or
stretching
far
by
the
roadside
,
allowing
only
peeps
at
the
park
and
mansion
which
they
shut
in
from
the
working-day
world
.
In
these
midland
districts
the
traveller
passed
rapidly
from
one
phase
of
English
life
to
another
:
after
looking
down
on
a
village
dingy
with
coal-dust
,
noisy
with
the
shaking
of
looms
,
he
might
skirt
a
parish
all
of
fields
,
high
hedges
,
and
deep-rutted
lanes
;
after
the
coach
had
rattled
over
the
pavement
of
a
manufacturing
town
,
the
scene
of
riots
and
trades-union
meetings
,
it
would
take
him
in
another
ten
minutes
into
a
rural
region
,
where
the
neighbourhood
of
the
town
was
only
felt
in
the
advantages
of
a
near
market
for
corn
,
cheese
,
and
hay
,
and
where
men
with
a
considerable
banking
account
were
accustomed
to
say
that
"
they
never
meddled
with
politics
themselves
.
"
The
busy
scenes
of
the
shuttle
and
the
wheel
,
of
the
roaring
furnace
,
of
the
shaft
and
the
pulley
,
seemed
to
make
but
crowded
nests
in
the
midst
of
the
large-spaced
,
slow-moving
life
of
homesteads
and
far-away
cottages
and
oak-sheltered
parks
.
Looking
at
the
dwellings
scattered
amongst
the
woody
flats
and
the
ploughed
uplands
,
under
the
low
grey
sky
which
overhung
them
with
an
unchanging
stillness
as
if
Time
itself
were
pausing
,
it
was
easy
for
the
traveller
to
conceive
that
town
and
country
had
no
pulse
in
common
,
except
where
the
handlooms
made
a
far-reaching
straggling
fringe
about
the
great
centres
of
manufacture
;
that
till
the
agitation
about
the
Catholics
in
'
29
,
rural
Englishmen
had
hardly
known
more
of
Catholics
than
of
the
fossil
mammals
;
and
that
their
notion
of
Reform
was
a
confused
combination
of
rick-burners
,
trades-unions
,
Nottingham
riots
,
and
in
general
whatever
required
the
calling-out
of
the
yeomanry
.
It
was
still
easier
to
see
that
,
for
the
most
part
,
they
resisted
the
rotation
of
crops
and
stood
by
their
fallows
:
and
the
coachman
would
perhaps
tell
how
in
one
parish
an
innovating
farmer
,
who
talked
of
Sir
Humphrey
Davy
,
had
been
fairly
driven
out
by
popular
dislike
,
as
if
he
had
been
a
confounded
Radical
;
and
how
,
the
parson
having
one
Sunday
preached
from
the
words
,
"
Plough
up
the
fallow-ground
of
your
hearts
,
"
the
people
thought
he
had
made
the
text
out
of
his
own
head
,
otherwise
it
would
never
have
come
"
so
pat
"
on
a
matter
of
business
;
but
when
they
found
it
in
the
Bible
at
home
,
some
said
it
was
an
argument
for
fallows
(
else
why
should
the
Bible
mention
fallows
?
)
,
but
a
few
of
the
weaker
sort
were
shaken
,
and
thought
it
was
an
argument
that
fallows
should
be
done
away
with
,
else
the
Bible
would
have
said
,
"
Let
your
hearts
lie
fallow
;
"
and
the
next
morning
the
parson
had
a
stroke
of
apoplexy
,
which
,
as
coincident
with
a
dispute
about
fallows
,
so
set
the
parish
against
the
innovating
farmer
and
the
rotation
of
crops
,
that
he
could
stand
his
ground
no
longer
,
and
transferred
his
lease
.
The
coachman
was
an
excellent
travelling
companion
and
commentator
on
the
landscape
:
he
could
tell
the
names
of
sites
and
persons
,
and
explain
the
meaning
of
groups
,
as
well
as
the
shade
of
Virgil
in
a
more
memorable
journey
;
he
had
as
many
stories
about
parishes
,
and
the
men
and
women
in
them
,
as
the
Wanderer
in
the
'
Excursion
,
'
only
his
style
was
different
.
His
view
of
life
had
originally
been
genial
,
and
such
as
became
a
man
who
was
well
warmed
within
and
without
,
and
held
a
position
of
easy
,
undisputed
authority
;
but
the
recent
initiation
of
Railways
had
embittered
him
:
he
now
,
as
in
a
perpetual
vision
,
saw
the
ruined
country
strewn
with
shattered
limbs
,
and
regarded
Mr
Huskisson
's
death
as
a
proof
of
God
's
anger
against
Stephenson
.
"
Why
,
every
inn
on
the
road
would
be
shut
up
!
"
and
at
that
word
the
coachman
looked
before
him
with
the
blank
gaze
of
one
who
had
driven
his
coach
to
the
outermost
edge
of
the
universe
,
and
saw
his
leaders
plunging
into
the
abyss
.
Still
he
would
soon
relapse
from
the
high
prophetic
strain
to
the
familiar
one
of
narrative
.
He
knew
whose
the
land
was
wherever
he
drove
;
what
noblemen
had
half-ruined
themselves
by
gambling
;
who
made
handsome
returns
of
rent
;
and
who
was
at
daggers-drawn
with
his
eldest
son
.
He
perhaps
remembered
the
fathers
of
actual
baronets
,
and
knew
stories
of
their
extravagant
or
stingy
housekeeping
;
whom
they
had
married
,
whom
they
had
horsewhipped
,
whether
they
were
particular
about
preserving
their
game
,
and
whether
they
had
had
much
to
do
with
canal
companies
.
About
any
actual
landed
proprietor
he
could
also
tell
whether
he
was
a
Reformer
or
an
Anti-Reformer
.
That
was
a
distinction
which
had
"
turned
up
"
in
latter
times
,
and
along
with
it
the
paradox
,
very
puzzling
to
the
coachman
's
mind
,
that
there
were
men
of
old
family
and
large
estate
who
voted
for
the
Bill
.
He
did
not
grapple
with
the
paradox
;
he
let
it
pass
,
with
all
the
discreetness
of
an
experienced
theologian
or
learned
scholiast
,
preferring
to
point
his
whip
at
some
object
which
could
raise
no
questions
.
No
such
paradox
troubled
our
coachman
when
,
leaving
the
town
of
Treby
Magna
behind
him
,
he
drove
between
the
hedges
for
a
mile
or
so
,
crossed
the
queer
long
bridge
over
the
river
Lapp
,
and
then
put
his
horses
to
a
swift
gallop
up
the
hill
by
the
low-nestled
village
of
Little
Treby
,
till
they
were
on
the
fine
level
road
,
skirted
on
one
side
by
grand
larches
,
oaks
,
and
wych
elms
,
which
sometimes
opened
so
far
as
to
let
the
traveller
see
that
there
was
a
park
behind
them
.
How
many
times
in
the
year
,
as
the
coach
rolled
past
the
neglected-looking
lodges
which
interrupted
the
screen
of
trees
,
and
showed
the
river
winding
through
a
finely-timbered
park
,
had
the
coachman
answered
the
same
questions
,
or
told
the
same
things
without
being
questioned
!
That
?
—
oh
,
that
was
Transome
Court
,
a
place
there
had
been
a
fine
sight
of
lawsuits
about
.
Generations
back
,
the
heir
of
the
Transome
name
had
somehow
bargained
away
the
estate
,
and
it
fell
to
the
Durfeys
,
very
distant
connections
,
who
only
called
themselves
Transomes
because
they
had
got
the
estate
.
But
the
Durfeys
'
claim
had
been
disputed
over
and
over
again
;
and
the
coachman
,
if
he
had
been
asked
,
would
have
said
,
though
he
might
have
to
fall
down
dead
the
next
minute
,
that
property
did
n't
always
get
into
the
right
hands
.
However
,
the
lawyers
had
found
their
luck
in
it
;
and
people
who
inherited
estates
that
were
lawed
about
often
lived
in
them
as
poorly
as
a
mouse
in
a
hollow
cheese
;
and
,
by
what
he
could
make
out
,
that
had
been
the
way
with
these
present
Durfeys
,
or
Transomes
,
as
they
called
themselves
.
As
for
Mr
Transome
,
he
was
as
poor
,
half-witted
a
fellow
as
you
'd
wish
to
see
;
but
she
was
master
,
had
come
of
a
high
family
,
and
had
a
spirit
—
you
might
see
it
in
her
eye
and
the
way
she
sat
her
horse
.
Forty
years
ago
,
when
she
came
into
this
country
,
they
said
she
was
a
picture
;
but
her
family
was
poor
,
and
so
she
took
up
with
a
hatchet-faced
fellow
like
this
Transome
.
And
the
eldest
son
had
been
just
such
another
as
his
father
,
only
worse
—
a
wild
sort
of
half-natural
,
who
got
into
bad
company
.
They
said
his
mother
hated
him
and
wished
him
dead
;
for
she
'd
got
another
son
,
quite
of
a
different
cut
,
who
had
gone
to
foreign
parts
when
he
was
a
youngster
,
and
she
wanted
her
favourite
to
be
heir
.
But
heir
or
no
heir
,
Lawyer
Jermyn
had
had
his
picking
out
of
the
estate
.
Not
a
door
in
his
big
house
but
what
was
the
finest
polished
oak
,
all
got
off
the
Transome
estate
.
If
anybody
liked
to
believe
he
paid
for
it
,
they
were
welcome
.
However
,
Lawyer
Jermyn
had
sat
on
that
box-seat
many
and
many
a
time
.
He
had
made
the
wills
of
most
people
thereabout
.
The
coachman
would
not
say
that
Lawyer
Jermyn
was
not
the
man
he
would
choose
to
make
his
own
will
some
day
.
It
was
not
so
well
for
a
lawyer
to
be
over-honest
,
else
he
might
not
be
up
to
other
people
's
tricks
.
And
as
for
the
Transome
business
,
there
had
been
ins
and
outs
in
time
gone
by
,
so
that
you
could
n't
look
into
it
straight
backward
.
At
this
Mr
Sampson
(
everybody
in
North
Loamshire
knew
Sampson
's
coach
)
would
screw
his
features
into
a
grimace
expressive
of
entire
neutrality
,
and
appear
to
aim
his
whip
at
a
particular
spot
on
the
horse
's
flank
.
If
the
passenger
was
curious
for
further
knowledge
concerning
the
Transome
affairs
,
Sampson
would
shake
his
head
and
say
there
had
been
fine
stories
in
his
time
;
but
he
never
condescended
to
state
what
the
stories
were
.
Some
attributed
this
reticence
to
a
wise
incredulity
,
others
to
a
want
of
memory
,
others
to
simple
ignorance
.
But
at
least
Sampson
was
right
in
saying
that
there
had
been
fine
stories
—
meaning
,
ironically
,
stories
not
altogether
creditable
to
the
parties
concerned
.
And
such
stories
often
come
to
be
fine
in
a
sense
that
is
not
ironical
.
For
there
is
seldom
any
wrong-doing
which
does
not
carry
along
with
it
some
downfall
of
blindly-climbing
hopes
,
some
hard
entail
of
suffering
,
some
quickly-satiated
desire
that
survives
,
with
the
life
in
death
of
old
paralytic
vice
,
to
see
itself
cursed
by
its
woeful
progeny
—
some
tragic
mark
of
kinship
in
the
one
brief
life
to
the
far-stretching
life
that
went
before
,
and
to
the
life
that
is
to
come
after
,
such
as
has
raised
the
pity
and
terror
of
men
ever
since
they
began
to
discern
between
will
and
destiny
.
But
these
things
are
often
unknown
to
the
world
;
for
there
is
much
pain
that
is
quite
noiseless
;
and
vibrations
that
make
human
agonies
are
often
a
mere
whisper
in
the
roar
of
hurrying
existence
.
There
are
glances
of
hatred
that
stab
and
raise
no
cry
of
murder
;
robberies
that
leave
man
or
woman
for
ever
beggared
of
peace
and
joy
,
yet
kept
secret
by
the
sufferer
—
committed
to
no
sound
except
that
of
low
moans
in
the
night
,
seen
in
no
writing
except
that
made
on
the
face
by
the
slow
months
of
suppressed
anguish
and
early
morning
tears
.
Many
an
inherited
sorrow
that
has
marred
a
life
has
been
breathed
into
no
human
ear
.
The
poets
have
told
us
of
a
dolorous
enchanted
forest
in
the
under
world
.
The
thorn-bushes
there
,
and
the
thick-barked
stems
,
have
human
histories
hidden
in
them
;
the
power
of
unuttered
cries
dwells
in
the
passionless-seeming
branches
,
and
the
red
warm
blood
is
darkly
feeding
the
quivering
nerves
of
a
sleepless
memory
that
watches
through
all
dreams
.
These
things
are
a
parable
.
VOL.
I
.
CHAPTER
I
.
He
left
me
when
the
down
upon
his
lip
Lay
like
the
shadow
of
a
hovering
kiss
.
"
Beautiful
mother
,
do
not
grieve
,
"
he
said
;
"
I
will
be
great
,
and
build
our
fortunes
high
,
And
you
shall
wear
the
longest
train
at
court
,
And
look
so
queenly
,
all
the
lords
shall
say
,
'
She
is
a
royal
changeling
:
there
's
some
crown
Lacks
the
right
head
,
since
hers
wears
nought
but
braids
.
'
"
O
,
he
is
coming
now
—
but
I
am
grey
:
And
he
—
On
the
1st
of
September
,
in
the
memorable
year
1832
,
some
one
was
expected
at
Transome
Court
.
As
early
as
two
o'clock
in
the
afternoon
the
aged
lodge-keeper
had
opened
the
heavy
gate
,
green
as
the
tree
trunks
were
green
with
nature
's
powdery
paint
,
deposited
year
after
year
.
Already
in
the
village
of
Little
Treby
,
which
lay
on
the
side
of
a
steep
hill
not
far
off
the
lodge
gates
,
the
elder
matrons
sat
in
their
best
gowns
at
the
few
cottage
doors
bordering
the
road
,
that
they
might
be
ready
to
get
up
and
make
their
curtsy
when
a
travelling
carriage
should
come
in
sight
;
and
beyond
the
village
several
small
boys
were
stationed
on
the
lookout
,
intending
to
run
a
race
to
the
barn-like
old
church
,
where
the
sexton
waited
in
the
belfry
ready
to
set
the
one
bell
in
joyful
agitation
just
at
the
right
moment
.
The
old
lodge-keeper
had
opened
the
gate
and
left
it
in
the
charge
of
his
lame
wife
,
because
he
was
wanted
at
the
Court
to
sweep
away
the
leaves
,
and
perhaps
to
help
in
the
stables
.
For
though
Transome
Court
was
a
large
mansion
,
built
in
the
fashion
of
Queen
Anne
's
time
,
with
a
park
and
grounds
as
fine
as
any
to
be
seen
in
Loamshire
,
there
were
very
few
servants
about
it
.
Especially
,
it
seemed
,
there
must
be
a
lack
of
gardeners
;
for
,
except
on
the
terrace
surrounded
with
a
stone
parapet
in
front
of
the
house
,
where
there
was
a
parterre
kept
with
some
neatness
,
grass
had
spread
itself
over
the
gravel
walks
,
and
over
all
the
low
mounds
once
carefully
cut
as
black
beds
for
the
shrubs
and
larger
plants
.
Many
of
the
windows
had
the
shutters
closed
,
and
under
the
grand
Scotch
fir
that
stooped
towards
one
corner
,
the
brown
firneedles
of
many
years
lay
in
a
small
stone
balcony
in
front
of
two
such
darkened
windows
.
All
round
,
both
near
and
far
,
there
were
grand
trees
,
motionless
in
the
still
sunshine
,
and
,
like
all
large
motionless
things
,
seeming
to
add
to
the
stillness
.
Here
and
there
a
leaf
fluttered
down
;
petals
fell
in
a
silent
shower
;
a
heavy
moth
floated
by
,
and
,
when
it
settled
,
seemed
to
fall
wearily
;
the
tiny
birds
alighted
on
the
walks
,
and
hopped
about
in
perfect
tranquillity
;
even
a
stray
rabbit
sat
nibbling
a
leaf
that
was
to
its
liking
,
in
the
middle
of
a
grassy
space
,
with
an
air
that
seemed
quite
impudent
in
so
timid
a
creature
.
No
sound
was
to
be
heard
louder
than
a
sleepy
hum
,
and
the
soft
monotony
of
running
water
hurrying
on
to
the
river
that
divided
the
park
.
Standing
on
the
south
or
east
side
of
the
house
,
you
would
never
have
guessed
that
an
arrival
was
expected
.
But
on
the
west
side
,
where
the
carriage
entrance
was
,
the
gates
under
the
stone
archway
were
thrown
open
;
and
so
was
the
double
door
of
the
entrance-hall
,
letting
in
the
warm
light
on
the
scagliola
pillars
,
the
marble
statues
,
and
the
broad
stone
staircase
,
with
its
matting
worn
into
large
holes
.
And
,
stronger
sign
of
expectation
than
all
,
from
one
of
the
doors
which
surrounded
the
entrance-hall
,
there
came
forth
from
time
to
time
a
lady
,
who
walked
lightly
over
the
polished
stone
floor
,
and
stood
on
the
door-steps
and
watched
and
listened
.
She
walked
lightly
,
for
her
figure
was
slim
and
finely
formed
,
though
she
was
between
fifty
and
sixty
.
She
was
a
tall
,
proud-looking
woman
,
with
abundant
grey
hair
,
dark
eyes
and
eyebrows
,
and
a
somewhat
eagle-like
yet
not
unfeminine
face
.
Her
tight-fitting
black
dress
was
much
worn
;
the
fine
lace
of
her
cuffs
and
collar
,
and
of
the
small
veil
which
fell
backwards
over
her
high
comb
,
was
visibly
mended
;
but
rare
jewels
flashed
on
her
hands
,
which
lay
on
her
folded
black-clad
arms
like
finely-cut
onyx
cameos
.
Many
times
Mrs
Transome
went
to
the
door-steps
,
watching
and
listening
in
vain
.
Each
time
she
returned
to
the
same
room
:
it
was
a
moderate-sized
comfortable
room
,
with
low
ebony
bookshelves
round
it
,
and
it
formed
an
anteroom
to
a
large
library
,
of
which
a
glimpse
could
be
seen
through
an
open
doorway
,
partly
obstructed
by
a
heavy
tapestry
curtain
drawn
on
one
side
.
There
was
a
great
deal
of
tarnished
gilding
and
dinginess
on
the
walls
and
furniture
of
this
smaller
room
,
but
the
pictures
above
the
bookcases
were
all
of
a
cheerful
kind
:
portraits
in
pastel
of
pearly-skinned
ladies
with
hair-powder
,
blue
ribbons
,
and
low
boddices
;
a
splendid
portrait
in
oils
of
a
Transome
in
the
gorgeous
dress
of
the
Restoration
;
another
of
a
Transome
in
his
boyhood
,
with
his
hand
on
the
neck
of
a
small
pony
;
and
a
large
Flemish
battle-piece
,
where
war
seemed
only
a
picturesque
blue-and-red
accident
in
a
vast
sunny
expanse
of
plain
and
sky
.
Probably
such
cheerful
pictures
had
been
chosen
because
this
was
Mrs
Transome
's
usual
sitting-room
:
it
was
certainly
for
this
reason
that
,
near
the
chair
in
which
she
seated
herself
each
time
she
re-entered
,
there
hung
a
picture
of
a
youthful
face
which
bore
a
strong
resemblance
to
her
own
:
a
beardless
but
masculine
face
,
with
rich
brown
hair
hanging
low
on
the
forehead
,
and
undulating
beside
each
cheek
down
to
the
loose
white
cravat
.
Near
this
same
chair
were
her
writing-table
,
with
vellum-covered
account-books
on
it
,
the
cabinet
in
which
she
kept
her
neatly-arranged
drugs
,
her
basket
for
her
embroidery
,
a
folio
volume
of
architectural
engravings
from
which
she
took
her
embroidery
patterns
,
a
number
of
the
North
Loamshire
Herald
,
and
the
cushion
for
her
fat
Blenheim
,
which
was
too
old
and
sleepy
to
notice
its
mistress
's
restlessness
.
For
,
just
now
,
Mrs
Transome
could
not
abridge
the
sunny
tedium
of
the
day
by
the
feeble
interest
of
her
usual
indoor
occupations
.
Her
consciousness
was
absorbed
by
memories
and
prospects
,
and
except
when
she
walked
to
the
entrance-door
to
look
out
,
she
sat
motionless
with
folded
arms
,
involuntarily
from
time
to
time
turning
towards
the
portrait
close
by
her
,
and
as
often
,
when
its
young
brown
eyes
met
hers
,
turning
away
again
with
self-checking
resolution
.
At
last
,
prompted
by
some
sudden
thought
or
by
some
sound
,
she
rose
and
went
hastily
beyond
the
tapestry
curtain
into
the
library
.
She
paused
near
the
door
without
speaking
:
apparently
she
only
wished
to
see
that
no
harm
was
being
done
.
A
man
nearer
seventy
than
sixty
was
in
the
act
of
ranging
on
a
large
library-table
a
series
of
shallow
drawers
,
some
of
them
containing
dried
insects
,
others
mineralogical
specimens
.
His
pale
mild
eyes
,
receding
lower
jaw
,
and
slight
frame
,
could
never
have
expressed
much
vigour
,
either
bodily
or
mental
;
but
he
had
now
the
unevenness
of
gait
and
feebleness
of
gesture
which
tell
of
a
past
paralytic
seizure
.
His
threadbare
clothes
were
thoroughly
brushed
;
his
soft
white
hair
was
carefully
parted
and
arranged
:
he
was
not
a
neglected-looking
old
man
;
and
at
his
side
a
fine
black
retriever
,
also
old
,
sat
on
its
haunches
,
and
watched
him
as
he
went
to
and
fro
.
But
when
Mrs
Transome
appeared
within
the
doorway
,
her
husband
paused
in
his
work
and
shrank
like
a
timid
animal
looked
at
in
a
cage
where
flight
is
impossible
.
He
was
conscious
of
a
troublesome
intention
,
for
which
he
had
been
rebuked
before
—
that
of
disturbing
all
his
specimens
with
a
view
to
a
new
arrangement
.
After
an
interval
,
in
which
his
wife
stood
perfectly
still
,
observing
him
,
he
began
to
put
back
the
drawers
in
their
places
in
the
row
of
cabinets
which
extended
under
the
bookshelves
at
one
end
of
the
library
.
When
they
were
all
put
back
and
closed
,
Mrs
Transome
turned
away
,
and
the
frightened
old
man
seated
himself
with
Nimrod
the
retriever
on
an
ottoman
.
Peeping
at
him
again
,
a
few
minutes
after
,
she
saw
that
he
had
his
arm
round
Nimrod
's
neck
,
and
was
uttering
his
thoughts
to
the
dog
in
a
loud
whisper
,
as
little
children
do
to
any
object
near
them
when
they
believe
themselves
unwatched
.
At
last
the
sound
of
the
church-bell
reached
Mrs
Transome
's
ear
,
and
she
knew
that
before
long
the
sound
of
wheels
must
be
within
hearing
;
but
she
did
not
at
once
start
up
and
walk
to
the
entrance-door
.
She
sat
still
,
quivering
and
listening
;
her
lips
became
pale
,
her
hands
were
cold
and
trembling
.
Was
her
son
really
coming
?
She
was
far
beyond
fifty
;
and
since
her
early
gladness
in
this
best-loved
boy
,
the
harvests
of
her
life
had
been
scanty
.
Could
it
be
that
now
—
when
her
hair
was
grey
,
when
sight
had
become
one
of
the
day
's
fatigues
,
when
her
young
accomplishments
seemed
almost
ludicrous
,
like
the
tone
of
her
first
harpsichord
and
the
words
of
the
songs
long
browned
with
age
—
she
was
going
to
reap
an
assured
joy
?
—
to
feel
that
the
doubtful
deeds
of
her
life
were
justified
by
the
result
,
since
a
kind
Providence
had
sanctioned
them
?
—
to
be
no
longer
tacitly
pitied
by
her
neighbours
for
her
lack
of
money
,
her
imbecile
husband
,
her
graceless
eldest-born
,
and
the
loneliness
of
her
life
;
but
to
have
at
her
side
a
rich
,
clever
,
possibly
a
tender
,
son
?
Yes
;
but
there
were
the
fifteen
years
of
separation
,
and
all
that
had
happened
in
that
long
time
to
throw
her
into
the
background
in
her
son
's
memory
and
affection
.
And
yet
—
did
not
men
sometimes
become
more
filial
in
their
feeling
when
experience
had
mellowed
them
,
and
they
had
themselves
become
fathers
?
Still
,
if
Mrs
Transome
had
expected
only
her
son
,
she
would
have
trembled
less
;
she
expected
a
little
grandson
also
:
and
there
were
reasons
why
she
had
not
been
enraptured
when
her
son
had
written
to
her
only
when
he
was
on
the
eve
of
returning
that
he
already
had
an
heir
born
to
him
.
But
the
facts
must
be
accepted
as
they
stood
,
and
,
after
all
,
the
chief
thing
was
to
have
her
son
back
again
.
Such
pride
,
such
affection
,
such
hopes
as
she
cherished
in
this
fifty-sixth
year
of
her
life
,
must
find
their
gratification
in
him
—
or
nowhere
.
Once
more
she
glanced
at
the
portrait
.
The
young
brown
eyes
seemed
to
dwell
on
her
pleasantly
;
but
,
turning
from
it
with
a
sort
of
impatience
,
and
saying
aloud
,
"
Of
course
he
will
be
altered
!
"
she
rose
almost
with
difficulty
,
and
walked
more
slowly
than
before
across
the
hall
to
the
entrance-door
.
Already
the
sound
of
wheels
was
loud
upon
the
gravel
.
The
momentary
surprise
of
seeing
that
it
was
only
a
post-chaise
,
without
a
servant
or
much
luggage
,
that
was
passing
under
the
stone
archway
and
then
wheeling
round
against
the
flight
of
stone
steps
,
was
at
once
merged
in
the
sense
that
there
was
a
dark
face
under
a
red
travelling-cap
looking
at
her
from
the
window
.
She
saw
nothing
else
:
she
was
not
even
conscious
that
the
small
group
of
her
own
servants
had
mustered
,
or
that
old
Hickes
the
butler
had
come
forward
to
open
the
chaise
door
.
She
heard
herself
called
"
Mother
!
"
and
felt
a
light
kiss
on
each
cheek
;
but
stronger
than
all
that
sensation
was
the
consciousness
which
no
previous
thought
could
prepare
her
for
,
that
this
son
who
had
come
back
to
her
was
a
stranger
.
Three
minutes
before
,
she
had
fancied
that
,
in
spite
of
all
changes
wrought
by
fifteen
years
of
separation
,
she
should
clasp
her
son
again
as
she
had
done
at
their
parting
;
but
in
the
moment
when
their
eyes
met
,
the
sense
of
strangeness
came
upon
her
like
a
terror
.
It
was
not
hard
to
understand
that
she
was
agitated
,
and
the
son
led
her
across
the
hall
to
the
sitting-room
,
closing
the
door
behind
them
.
Then
he
turned
towards
her
and
said
,
smiling
,
"
You
would
not
have
known
me
,
eh
,
mother
?
"
It
was
perhaps
the
truth
.
If
she
had
seen
him
in
a
crowd
,
she
might
have
looked
at
him
without
recognition
—
not
,
however
,
without
startled
wonder
;
for
though
the
likeness
to
herself
was
no
longer
striking
,
the
years
had
overlaid
it
with
another
likeness
which
would
have
arrested
her
.
Before
she
answered
him
,
his
eyes
,
with
a
keen
restlessness
,
as
unlike
as
possible
to
the
lingering
gaze
of
the
portrait
,
had
travelled
quickly
over
the
room
,
alighting
on
her
again
as
she
said
,
"
Everything
is
changed
,
Harold
.
I
am
an
old
woman
,
you
see
.
"
"
But
straighter
and
more
upright
than
some
of
the
young
ones
!
"
said
Harold
;
inwardly
,
however
,
feeling
that
age
had
made
his
mother
's
face
very
anxious
and
eager
.
"
The
old
women
at
Smyrna
are
like
sacks
.
You
've
not
got
clumsy
and
shapeless
.
How
is
it
I
have
the
trick
of
getting
fat
?
"
(
Here
Harold
lifted
his
arm
and
spread
out
his
plump
hand
.
)
"
I
remember
my
father
was
as
thin
as
a
herring
.
How
is
my
father
?
Where
is
he
?
"
Mrs
Transome
just
pointed
to
the
curtained
doorway
,
and
let
her
son
pass
through
it
alone
.
She
was
not
given
to
tears
;
but
now
,
under
the
pressure
of
emotion
that
could
find
no
other
vent
,
they
burst
forth
.
She
took
care
that
they
should
be
silent
tears
,
and
before
Harold
came
out
of
the
library
again
they
were
dried
.
Mrs
Transome
had
not
the
feminine
tendency
to
seek
influence
through
pathos
;
she
had
been
used
to
rule
in
virtue
of
acknowledged
superiority
.
The
consciousness
that
she
had
to
make
her
son
's
acquaintance
,
and
that
her
knowledge
of
the
youth
of
nineteen
might
help
her
little
in
interpreting
the
man
of
thirty-four
,
had
fallen
like
lead
on
her
soul
;
but
in
this
new
acquaintance
of
theirs
she
cared
especially
that
her
son
,
who
had
seen
a
strange
world
,
should
feel
that
he
was
come
home
to
a
mother
who
was
to
be
consulted
on
all
things
,
and
who
could
supply
his
lack
of
the
local
experience
necessary
to
an
English
landholder
.
Her
part
in
life
had
been
that
of
the
clever
sinner
,
and
she
was
equipped
with
the
views
,
the
reasons
,
and
the
habits
which
belonged
to
that
character
:
life
would
have
little
meaning
for
her
if
she
were
to
be
gently
thrust
aside
as
a
harmless
elderly
woman
.
And
besides
,
there
were
secrets
which
her
son
must
never
know
.
So
,
by
the
time
Harold
came
from
the
library
again
,
the
traces
of
tears
were
not
discernible
,
except
to
a
very
careful
observer
.
And
he
did
not
observe
his
mother
carefully
;
his
eyes
only
glanced
at
her
on
their
way
to
the
North
Loamshire
Herald
,
lying
on
the
table
near
her
,
which
he
took
up
with
his
left
hand
,
as
he
said
,
"
Gad
!
what
a
wreck
poor
father
is
!
Paralysis
,
eh
?
Terribly
shrunk
and
shaken
—
crawls
about
among
his
books
and
beetles
as
usual
,
though
.
Well
,
it
's
a
slow
and
easy
death
.
But
he
's
not
much
over
sixty-five
,
is
he
?
"
"
Sixty-seven
,
counting
by
birthdays
;
but
your
father
was
born
old
,
I
think
,
"
said
Mrs
Transome
,
a
little
flushed
with
the
determination
not
to
show
any
unasked-for
feeling
.
Her
son
did
not
notice
her
.
All
the
time
he
had
been
speaking
his
eyes
had
been
running
down
the
columns
of
the
newspaper
.
"
But
your
little
boy
,
Harold
—
where
is
he
?
How
is
it
he
has
not
come
with
you
?
"
"
O
,
I
left
him
behind
,
in
town
,
"
said
Harold
,
still
looking
at
the
paper
.
"
My
man
Dominic
will
bring
him
,
with
the
rest
of
the
luggage
.
Ah
,
I
see
it
is
young
Debarry
,
and
not
my
old
friend
Sir
Maximus
,
who
is
offering
himself
as
candidate
for
North
Loamshire
.
"
"
Yes
.
You
did
not
answer
me
when
I
wrote
to
you
to
London
about
your
standing
.
There
is
no
other
Tory
candidate
spoken
of
,
and
you
would
have
all
the
Debarry
interest
.
"
"
I
hardly
think
that
,
"
said
Harold
,
significantly
.
"
Why
?
Jermyn
says
a
Tory
candidate
can
never
be
got
in
without
it
.
"
"
But
I
shall
not
be
a
Tory
candidate
.
"
Mrs
Transome
felt
something
like
an
electric
shock
.
"
What
then
?
"
she
said
,
almost
sharply
.
"
You
will
not
call
yourself
a
Whig
?
"
"
God
forbid
!
I
'm
a
Radical
.
"
Mrs
Transome
's
limbs
tottered
;
she
sank
into
a
chair
.
Here
was
a
distinct
confirmation
of
the
vague
but
strong
feeling
that
her
son
was
a
stranger
to
her
.
Here
was
a
revelation
to
which
it
seemed
almost
as
impossible
to
adjust
her
hopes
and
notions
of
a
dignified
life
as
if
her
son
had
said
that
he
had
been
converted
to
Mahometanism
at
Smyrna
,
and
had
four
wives
,
instead
of
one
son
,
shortly
to
arrive
under
the
care
of
Dominic
.
For
the
moment
she
had
a
sickening
feeling
that
it
was
all
of
no
use
that
the
long-delayed
good
fortune
had
come
at
last
—
all
of
no
use
though
the
unloved
Durfey
was
dead
and
buried
,
and
though
Harold
had
come
home
with
plenty
of
money
.
There
were
rich
Radicals
,
she
was
aware
,
as
there
were
rich
Jews
and
Dissenters
,
but
she
had
never
thought
of
them
as
county
people
.
Sir
Francis
Burdett
had
been
generally
regarded
as
a
madman
.
It
was
better
to
ask
no
questions
,
but
silently
to
prepare
herself
for
anything
else
there
might
be
to
come
.
"
Will
you
go
to
your
rooms
,
Harold
,
and
see
if
there
is
anything
you
would
like
to
have
altered
?
"
"
Yes
,
let
us
go
,
"
said
Harold
,
throwing
down
the
newspaper
,
in
which
he
had
been
rapidly
reading
almost
every
advertisement
while
his
mother
had
been
going
through
her
sharp
inward
struggle
.
"
Uncle
Lingon
is
on
the
bench
still
,
I
see
,
"
he
went
on
,
as
he
followed
her
across
the
hall
;
"
is
he
at
home
—
will
he
be
here
this
evening
?
"
"
He
says
you
must
go
to
the
Rectory
when
you
want
to
see
him
.
You
must
remember
you
have
come
back
to
a
family
who
have
old-fashioned
notions
.
Your
uncle
thought
I
ought
to
have
you
to
myself
in
the
first
hour
or
two
.
He
remembered
that
I
had
not
seen
my
son
for
fifteen
years
.
"
"
Ah
,
by
Jove
!
fifteen
years
—
so
it
is
!
"
said
Harold
,
taking
his
mother
's
hand
and
drawing
it
under
his
arm
;
for
he
had
perceived
that
her
words
were
charged
with
an
intention
.
"
And
you
are
as
straight
as
an
arrow
still
;
you
will
carry
the
shawls
I
have
brought
you
as
well
as
ever
.
"
They
walked
up
the
broad
stone
steps
together
in
silence
.
Under
the
shock
of
discovering
her
son
's
Radicalism
,
Mrs
Transome
had
no
impulse
to
say
one
thing
rather
than
another
;
as
in
a
man
who
had
just
been
branded
on
the
forehead
all
wonted
motives
would
be
uprooted
.
Harold
,
on
his
side
,
had
no
wish
opposed
to
filial
kindness
,
but
his
busy
thoughts
were
imperiously
determined
by
habits
which
had
no
reference
to
any
woman
's
feeling
;
and
even
if
he
could
have
conceived
what
his
mother
's
feeling
was
,
his
mind
,
after
that
momentary
arrest
,
would
have
darted
forward
on
its
usual
course
.
"
I
have
given
you
the
south
rooms
,
Harold
,
"
said
Mrs
Transome
,
as
they
passed
along
a
corridor
lit
from
above
,
and
lined
with
old
family
pictures
.
"
I
thought
they
would
suit
you
best
,
as
they
all
open
into
each
other
,
and
this
middle
one
will
make
a
pleasant
sitting-room
for
you
.
"
"
Gad
!
the
furniture
is
in
a
bad
state
,
"
said
Harold
,
glancing
round
at
the
middle
room
which
they
had
just
entered
,
"
the
moths
seem
to
have
got
into
the
carpets
and
hangings
.
"
"
I
had
no
choice
except
moths
or
tenants
who
would
pay
rent
,
"
said
Mrs
Transome
.
"
We
have
been
too
poor
to
keep
servants
for
uninhabited
rooms
.
"
"
What
!
you
've
been
rather
pinched
,
eh
?
"
"
You
find
us
living
as
we
have
been
living
these
twelve
years
.
"
"
Ah
,
you
've
had
Durfey
's
debts
as
well
as
the
lawsuits
—
confound
them
!
It
will
make
a
hole
in
sixty
thousand
pounds
to
pay
off
the
mortgages
.
However
,
he
's
gone
now
,
poor
fellow
;
and
I
suppose
I
should
have
spent
more
in
buying
an
English
estate
some
time
or
other
.
I
always
meant
to
be
an
Englishman
,
and
thrash
a
lord
or
two
who
thrashed
me
at
Eton
.
"
"
I
hardly
thought
you
could
have
meant
that
,
Harold
,
when
I
found
you
had
married
a
foreign
wife
.
"
"
Would
you
have
had
me
wait
for
a
consumptive
lackadaisical
Englishwoman
,
who
would
have
hung
all
her
relations
round
my
neck
?
I
hate
English
wives
;
they
want
to
give
their
opinion
about
everything
.
They
interfere
with
a
man
's
life
.
I
shall
not
marry
again
.
"
Mrs
Transome
bit
her
lip
,
and
turned
away
to
draw
up
a
blind
.
She
would
not
reply
to
words
which
showed
how
completely
any
conception
of
herself
and
her
feelings
was
excluded
from
her
son
's
inward
world
.
As
she
turned
round
again
she
said
,
"
I
suppose
you
have
been
used
to
great
luxury
;
these
rooms
look
miserable
to
you
,
but
you
can
soon
make
any
alteration
you
like
.
"
"
O
,
I
must
have
a
private
sitting-room
fitted
up
for
myself
down-stairs
.
And
the
rest
are
bedrooms
,
I
suppose
,
"
he
went
on
,
opening
a
side-door
.
"
Ah
,
I
can
sleep
here
a
night
or
two
.
But
there
's
a
bedroom
down-stairs
,
with
an
anteroom
,
I
remember
,
that
would
do
for
my
man
Dominic
and
the
little
boy
.
I
should
like
to
have
that
.
"
"
Your
father
has
slept
there
for
years
.
He
will
be
like
a
distracted
insect
,
and
never
know
where
to
go
,
if
you
alter
the
track
he
has
to
walk
in
.
"
"
That
's
a
pity
.
I
hate
going
up-stairs
.
"
"
There
is
the
steward
's
room
:
it
is
not
used
,
and
might
be
turned
into
a
bedroom
.
I
ca
n't
offer
you
my
room
,
for
I
sleep
up-stairs
.
"
(
Mrs
Transome
's
tongue
could
be
a
whip
upon
occasion
,
but
the
lash
had
not
fallen
on
a
sensitive
spot
.
)
"
No
;
I
'm
determined
not
to
sleep
up-stairs
.
We
'll
see
about
the
steward
's
room
to-morrow
,
and
I
daresay
I
shall
find
a
closet
of
some
sort
for
Dominic
.
It
's
a
nuisance
he
had
to
stay
behind
,
for
I
shall
have
nobody
to
cook
for
me
.
Ah
,
there
's
the
old
river
I
used
to
fish
in
.
I
often
thought
,
when
I
was
at
Smyrna
,
that
I
would
buy
a
park
with
a
river
through
it
as
much
like
the
Lapp
as
possible
.
Gad
,
what
fine
oaks
those
are
opposite
!
Some
of
them
must
come
down
,
though
.
"
"
I
've
held
every
tree
sacred
on
the
demesne
,
as
I
told
you
,
Harold
.
I
trusted
to
your
getting
the
estate
some
time
,
and
releasing
it
;
and
I
determined
to
keep
it
worth
releasing
.
A
park
without
fine
timber
is
no
better
than
a
beauty
without
teeth
and
hair
.
"
"
Bravo
,
mother
!
"
said
Harold
,
putting
his
hand
on
her
shoulder
.
"
Ah
,
you
've
had
to
worry
yourself
about
things
that
do
n't
properly
belong
to
a
woman
—
my
father
being
weakly
.
We
'll
set
all
that
right
.
You
shall
have
nothing
to
do
now
but
to
be
grandmamma
on
satin
cushions
.
"
"
You
must
excuse
me
from
the
satin
cushions
.
That
is
a
part
of
the
old
woman
's
duty
I
am
not
prepared
for
.
I
am
used
to
be
chief
bailiff
,
and
to
sit
in
the
saddle
two
or
three
hours
every
day
.
There
are
two
farms
on
our
hands
besides
the
Home
Farm
.
"
"
Phew-ew
!
Jermyn
manages
the
estate
badly
then
.
That
will
not
last
under
my
reign
,
"
said
Harold
,
turning
on
his
heel
and
feeling
in
his
pockets
for
the
keys
of
his
portmanteaus
,
which
had
been
brought
up
.
"
Perhaps
when
you
've
been
in
England
a
little
longer
,
"
said
Mrs
Transome
,
colouring
as
if
she
had
been
a
girl
,
"
you
will
understand
better
the
difficulty
there
is
in
letting
farms
in
these
times
.
"
"
I
understand
the
difficulty
perfectly
,
mother
.
To
let
farms
,
a
man
must
have
the
sense
to
see
what
will
make
them
inviting
to
farmers
,
and
to
get
sense
supplied
on
demand
is
just
the
most
difficult
transaction
I
know
of
.
I
suppose
if
I
ring
there
's
some
fellow
who
can
act
as
valet
and
learn
to
attend
to
my
hookah
?
"
"
There
is
Hickes
the
butler
,
and
there
is
Jabez
the
footman
;
those
are
all
the
men
in
the
house
.
They
were
here
when
you
left
.
"
"
O
,
I
remember
Jabez
—
he
was
a
dolt
.
I
'll
have
old
Hickes
.
He
was
a
neat
little
machine
of
a
butler
;
his
words
used
to
come
like
the
clicks
of
an
engine
.
He
must
be
an
old
machine
now
,
though
.
"
"
You
seem
to
remember
some
things
about
home
wonderfully
well
,
Harold
.
"
"
Never
forget
places
and
people
—
how
they
look
and
what
can
be
done
with
them
.
All
the
country
round
here
lies
like
a
map
in
my
brain
.
A
deuced
pretty
country
too
;
but
the
people
were
a
stupid
set
of
old
Whigs
and
Tories
.
I
suppose
they
are
much
as
they
were
.
"
"
I
am
,
at
least
,
Harold
.
You
are
the
first
of
your
family
that
ever
talked
of
being
a
Radical
.
I
did
not
think
I
was
taking
care
of
our
old
oaks
for
that
.
I
always
thought
Radicals
'
houses
stood
staring
above
poor
sticks
of
young
trees
and
iron
hurdles
.
"
"
Yes
,
but
the
Radical
sticks
are
growing
,
mother
,
and
half
the
Tory
oaks
are
rotting
,
"
said
Harold
,
with
gay
carelessness
.
"
You
've
arranged
for
Jermyn
to
be
early
to-morrow
?
"
"
He
will
be
here
to
breakfast
at
nine
.
But
I
leave
you
to
Hickes
now
;
we
dine
in
an
hour
.
"
Mrs
Transome
went
away
and
shut
herself
in
her
own
dressing-room
.
It
had
come
to
pass
now
—
this
meeting
with
the
son
who
had
been
the
object
of
so
much
longing
;
whom
she
had
longed
for
before
he
was
born
,
for
whom
she
had
sinned
,
from
whom
she
had
wrenched
herself
with
pain
at
their
parting
,
and
whose
coming
again
had
been
the
one
great
hope
of
her
years
.
The
moment
was
gone
by
;
there
had
been
no
ecstasy
,
no
gladness
even
;
hardly
half
an
hour
had
passed
,
and
few
words
had
been
spoken
,
yet
with
that
quickness
in
weaving
new
futures
which
belongs
to
women
whose
actions
have
kept
them
in
habitual
fear
of
consequences
,
Mrs
Transome
thought
she
saw
with
all
the
clearness
of
demonstration
that
her
son
's
return
had
not
been
a
good
for
her
in
the
sense
of
making
her
any
happier
.
She
stood
before
a
tall
mirror
,
going
close
to
it
and
looking
at
her
face
with
hard
scrutiny
,
as
if
it
were
unrelated
to
herself
.
No
elderly
face
can
be
handsome
,
looked
at
in
that
way
;
every
little
detail
is
startlingly
prominent
,
and
the
effect
of
the
whole
is
lost
.
She
saw
the
dried-up
complexion
,
and
the
deep
lines
of
bitter
discontent
about
the
mouth
.
"
I
am
a
hag
!
"
she
said
to
herself
(
she
was
accustomed
to
give
her
thoughts
a
very
sharp
outline
)
,
"
an
ugly
old
woman
who
happens
to
be
his
mother
.
That
is
what
he
sees
in
me
,
as
I
see
a
stranger
in
him
.
I
shall
count
for
nothing
.
I
was
foolish
to
expect
anything
else
.
"
She
turned
away
from
the
mirror
and
walked
up
and
down
her
room
.
"
What
a
likeness
!
"
she
said
,
in
a
loud
whisper
;
"
yet
,
perhaps
,
no
one
will
see
it
besides
me
.
"
She
threw
herself
into
a
chair
,
and
sat
with
a
fixed
look
,
seeing
nothing
that
was
actually
present
,
but
inwardly
seeing
with
painful
vividness
what
had
been
present
with
her
a
little
more
than
thirty
years
ago
—
the
little
round-limbed
creature
that
had
been
leaning
against
her
knees
,
and
stamping
tiny
feet
,
and
looking
up
at
her
with
gurgling
laughter
.
She
had
thought
that
the
possession
of
this
child
would
give
unity
to
her
life
,
and
make
some
gladness
through
the
changing
years
that
would
grow
as
fruit
out
of
these
early
maternal
caresses
.
But
nothing
had
come
just
as
she
had
wished
.
The
mother
's
early
raptures
had
lasted
but
a
short
time
,
and
even
while
they
lasted
there
had
grown
up
in
the
midst
of
them
a
hungry
desire
,
like
a
black
poisonous
plant
feeding
in
the
sunlight
,
—
the
desire
that
her
first
,
rickety
,
ugly
,
imbecile
child
should
die
,
and
leave
room
for
her
darling
,
of
whom
she
could
be
proud
.
Such
desires
make
life
a
hideous
lottery
,
where
every
day
may
turn
up
a
blank
;
where
men
and
women
who
have
the
softest
beds
and
the
most
delicate
eating
,
who
have
a
very
large
share
of
that
sky
and
earth
which
some
are
born
to
have
no
more
of
than
the
fraction
to
be
got
in
a
crowded
entry
,
yet
grow
haggard
,
fevered
,
and
restless
,
like
those
who
watch
in
other
lotteries
.
Day
after
day
,
year
after
year
,
had
yielded
blanks
;
new
cares
had
come
,
bringing
other
desires
for
results
quite
beyond
her
grasp
,
which
must
also
be
watched
for
in
the
lottery
;
and
all
the
while
the
round-limbed
pet
had
been
growing
into
a
strong
youth
,
who
liked
many
things
better
than
his
mother
's
caresses
,
and
who
had
a
much
keener
consciousness
of
his
independent
existence
than
of
his
relation
to
her
:
the
lizard
's
egg
,
that
white
rounded
passive
prettiness
,
had
become
a
brown
,
darting
,
determined
lizard
.
The
mother
's
love
is
at
first
an
absorbing
delight
,
blunting
all
other
sensibilities
;
it
is
an
expansion
of
the
animal
existence
;
it
enlarges
the
imagined
range
for
self
to
move
in
:
but
in
after
years
it
can
only
continue
to
be
joy
on
the
same
terms
as
other
long-lived
love
—
that
is
,
by
much
suppression
of
self
,
and
power
of
living
in
the
experience
of
another
.
Mrs
Transome
had
darkly
felt
the
pressure
of
that
unchangeable
fact
.
Yet
she
had
clung
to
the
belief
that
somehow
the
possession
of
this
son
was
the
best
thing
she
lived
for
;
to
believe
otherwise
would
have
made
her
memory
too
ghastly
a
companion
.
Some
time
or
other
,
by
some
means
,
the
estate
she
was
struggling
to
save
from
the
grasp
of
the
law
would
be
Harold
's
.
Somehow
the
hated
Durfey
,
the
imbecile
eldest
,
who
seemed
to
have
become
tenacious
of
a
despicable
squandering
life
,
would
be
got
rid
of
;
vice
might
kill
him
.
Meanwhile
the
estate
was
burthened
:
there
was
no
good
prospect
for
any
heir
.
Harold
must
go
and
make
a
career
for
himself
:
and
this
was
what
he
was
bent
on
,
with
a
precocious
clearness
of
perception
as
to
the
conditions
on
which
he
could
hope
for
any
advantages
in
life
.
Like
most
energetic
natures
,
he
had
a
strong
faith
in
his
luck
;
he
had
been
gay
at
their
parting
,
and
had
promised
to
make
his
fortune
;
and
in
spite
of
past
disappointments
,
Harold
's
possible
fortune
