it?
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
with
a
slight
curl
of
the
lip
.
‘There
are
many
tests
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
.
‘Here
is
one
,
amongst
the
very
subjects
that
Mr.
Laurence
has
ordered
us
to
talk
about
—
art
and
literature.’
‘I
accept
the
test
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
.
‘What
,
then
,
can
be
nobler
than
much
modern
poetry
?
There
is
some
that
I
look
upon
as
quite
of
the
highest
order.’
‘When
I
spoke
of
our
literature
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
loftily
,
‘I
was
not
thinking
of
poetry
.
We
have
no
poetry
now.’
‘Indeed
?
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
;
‘I
imagined
you
had
written
some
yourself.’
‘Ah
!
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Luke
,
drawing
a
long
sigh
,
‘I
once
knew
what
Goethe
calls
“
the
divine
worth
of
tone
and
tears
.
”
But
my
own
poems
only
prove
the
truth
of
what
I
say
.
They
could
only
have
been
written
in
evil
days
.
They
were
simply
a
wail
of
pain
;
and
now
that
I
am
grown
braver
,
I
keep
silence
.
Poetry
in
some
ages
is
an
expression
of
the
best
strength
;
in
an
age
like
ours
it
is
the
disguise
of
the
worst
weakness
—
or
,
when
not
that
,
it
is
simply
a
forced
plant
,
an
exotic
.
No
,
Mr.
Stockton
,
I
was
not
speaking
of
our
poetry
,
but
of
the
one
kind
of
imaginative
literature
that
is
the
natural
growth
of
our
own
day
,
the
novel
.
Now
,
the
novel
itself
is
a
plant
which
,
when
it
grows
abundantly
and
alone
,
you
may
be
sure
is
a
sign
of
a
poor
soil
.
But
don’t
trust
to
that
only
.
Look
at
our
novels
themselves
,
and
see
what
sort
of
life
it
is
they
image
—
the
trivial
interests
,
the
contemptible
incidents
,
the
absurdity
of
the
virtuous
characters
,
the
viciousness
of
the
characters
who
are
not
absurd
.
Spain
was
in
some
ways
worse
in
Cervantes’
time
than
England
is
in
ours
;
but
you
may
search
all
our
novels
for
one
character
that
has
one
tithe
of
Don
Quixote’s
heroism
,
for
one
of
our
sane
men
that
breathed
in
so
healthy
and
pure
an
atmosphere
as
the
inspired
madman
.
And
this
is
not
from
want
of
ability
on
the
novelist’s
part
.
Some
of
them
have
powers
enough
and
to
spare
;
but
the
best
novels
only
reflect
back
most
clearly
the
social
anarchy
,
and
the
bad
ones
are
unconscious
parts
of
it.’
‘And
as
for
our
painting
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘that
reflects
,
even
more
clearly
than
our
literature
,
our
hideous
and
our
hopeless
degradation
.
The
other
day
,
when
I
walked
through
the
Royal
Academy
,
my
mind
was
literally
dazzled
by
the
infernal
glare
of
corruption
and
vulgarity
that
was
flashed
upon
me
from
every
side
.
There
were
,
indeed
,
only
two
pictures
in
the
whole
collection
that
were
not
entirely
abominable
;
and
these
were
,
one
of
them
three
boulders
in
the
island
of
Sark
,
the
other
a
study
of
pebbles
on
the
beach
at
Ilfracombe.’
‘I
know
little
about
the
technicalities
of
art
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘so
I
will
not
presume
to
dispute
this
point
with
you.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘here
is
another
test
quite
as
good
as
art
and
literature
—
love
and
money
,
and
their
relations
in
our
days.’
He
would
have
continued
speaking
;
but
Mr.
Herbert
allowed
him
no
time
.
‘The
very
things
,
’
he
said
,
‘I
was
about
to
touch
upon
—
the
very
things
the
pictures
the
other
day
suggested
to
me
.
For
,
seeing
how
the
work
of
the
painter
becomes
essentially
vile
so
soon
as
it
becomes
essentially
venal
,
I
was
reminded
of
the
like
corruption
of
what
is
far
more
precious
than
the
work
of
any
painter
—
our
own
English
girls
,
who
are
prepared
for
the
modern
marriage-market
on
precisely
the
same
principles
as
our
pictures
for
the
Royal
Academy
.
There
is
but
one
difference
.
The
work
of
the
modern
painter
is
vile
from
its
very
beginning
—
in
its
conception
and
execution
alike
;
but
our
girls
we
receive
,
in
the
first
instance
,
entirely
fair
and
sacred
from
the
hands
of
God
himself
,
clothed
upon
with
a
lovelier
vesture
than
any
lilies
of
the
field
—
’
‘Really
,
’
whispered
Lady
Ambrose
to
Laurence
,
‘Providence
has
done
so
very
little
for
us
,
as
far
as
vesture
goes.’
‘
—
And
we
,
’
Mr.
Herbert
went
on
,
‘with
unspeakable
profanity
presume
to
dress
and
to
decorate
them
,
till
the
heavenly
vesture
is
entirely
hidden
,
thinking
,
like
a
modern
Simon
Magus
,
that
the
gifts
of
God
are
to
be
purchased
for
money
,
and
not
caring
to
perceive
that
,
if
they
are
to
be
purchased
with
the
devil’s
money
,
we
must
first
convert
them
into
the
devil’s
gifts.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
with
a
faint
smile
,
‘the
day
for
love-matches
is
quite
gone
over
now.’
But
her
words
were
drowned
by
Mr.
Saunders
,
who
exclaimed
at
the
top
of
his
voice
,
and
in
a
state
of
great
excitement
,
‘Electric
telegraphs
—
railways
—
steam
printing
presses
—
let
me
beg
of
you
to
consider
the
very
next
subject
set
for
us
—
riches
and
civilisation
—
and
to
judge
of
the
present
generation
by
the
light
of
that.’
‘I
have
considered
them
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘for
the
last
thirty
years
—
and
with
inexpressible
melancholy.’
‘I
conceive
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘that
you
are
somewhat
singular
in
your
feelings.’
‘I
am
,
’
replied
Mr.
Herbert
;
‘and
that
in
most
of
my
opinions
and
feelings
I
am
singular
,
is
a
fact
fraught
for
me
with
the
most
ominous
significance
.
Yet
,
how
could
I
—
who
think
that
health
is
more
than
wealth
,
and
who
hold
it
a
more
important
thing
to
separate
right
from
wrong
than
to
identify
men
with
monkeys
—
how
could
I
hope
to
be
anything
but
singular
in
a
generation
that
deliberately
,
and
with
its
eyes
open
,
prefers
a
cotton-mill
to
a
Titian
?
’
‘I
hold
it
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘to
be
one
of
the
great
triumphs
of
our
day
,
that
it
has
so
subordinated
all
the
vaguer
and
more
lawless
sentiments
to
the
solid
guidance
of
sober
economical
considerations
.
And
not
only
do
I
consider
a
cotton-mill
,
but
I
consider
even
a
good
sewer
,
to
be
a
far
nobler
and
a
far
holier
thing
—
for
holy
in
reality
does
but
mean
healthy
—
than
the
most
admired
Madonna
ever
painted.’
‘A
good
sewer
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘is
,
I
admit
,
an
entirely
holy
thing
;
and
would
all
our
manufacturers
and
men
of
science
bury
themselves
underground
,
and
confine
their
attention
to
making
sewers
,
I
,
for
one
,
should
have
little
complaint
against
them.’
‘And
are
railways
,
telegraphs
,
gas-lamps
—
is
the
projected
Channel
tunnel
,
nothing
in
your
eyes
?
Is
it
nothing
that
all
the
conditions
of
life
are
ameliorated
,
that
mind
is
daily
pursuing
farther
its
conquest
over
matter
?
’
‘Have
we
much
to
thank
you
for
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘that
you
have
saved
us
from
an
hour
of
sea-sickness
,
if
in
return
you
give
us
a
whole
lifetime
of
heart-sickness
?
Your
mind
,
my
good
sir
,
that
you
boast
of
,
is
so
occupied
in
subduing
matter
,
that
it
is
entirely
forgetful
of
subduing
itself
—
a
matter
,
trust
me
,
that
is
far
more
important
.
And
as
for
your
amelioration
of
the
conditions
of
life
—
that
is
not
civilisation
which
saves
a
man
from
the
need
of
exercising
any
of
his
powers
,
but
which
obliges
him
to
exert
his
noble
powers
;
not
that
which
satisfies
his
lower
feelings
with
the
greatest
ease
,
but
which
provides
satisfaction
for
his
higher
feelings
,
no
matter
at
what
trouble.’
‘Other
things
being
equal
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘I
apprehend
that
the
generation
that
travels
sixty
miles
an
hour
is
at
least
five
times
as
civilised
as
the
generation
that
travels
only
twelve.’
‘But
the
other
things
are
not
equal
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
:
‘and
the
other
things
,
by
which
I
suppose
you
mean
all
that
is
really
sacred
in
the
life
of
man
,
have
been
banished
or
buried
by
the
very
things
which
we
boast
of
as
our
civilisation.’
‘That
is
our
own
fault
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘not
the
fault
of
civilisation.’
‘Not
so
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
.
‘Bring
up
a
boy
to
do
nothing
for
himself
—
make
everything
easy
for
him
—
to
use
your
own
expression
,
subdue
matter
for
him
—
and
that
boy
will
never
be
able
to
subdue
anything
for
himself
.
He
will
be
weak
in
body
,
and
a
coward
in
soul
—
’
‘Precisely
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
.
‘And
that
is
really
,
if
you
look
dispassionately
at
the
matter
,
a
consummation
devoutly
to
be
wished
.
For
why
do
we
need
our
bodies
to
be
strong
?
—
To
overcome
obstacles
.
Why
do
we
need
to
be
brave
?
—
To
attack
enemies
.
But
by
and
by
,
when
all
our
work
is
done
by
machinery
,
and
we
have
no
longer
any
obstacles
to
overcome
,
or
any
hardships
to
endure
,
strength
will
become
useless
,
and
bravery
dangerous
.
And
my
own
hope
is
that
both
will
have
ere
long
vanished
;
and
that
weakness
and
cowardice
,
qualities
which
we
now
so
irrationally
despise
,
will
have
vindicated
their
real
value
,
by
turning
universal
civilisation
into
universal
peace.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘that
is
exactly
what
the
modern
world
is
longing
for
—
a
universal
peace
;
which
never
can
nor
will
mean
anything
else
than
peace
with
the
devil.’
‘Really
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
to
Leslie
,
‘do
you
think
we
are
in
such
a
bad
way
as
all
this
?
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
I
must
ask
you
—
you
always
know
these
things
—
do
you
think
we
are
so
very
bad
?
’
‘Yes
—
yes
,
’
said
the
Doctor
,
turning
towards
her
with
a
cheerful
smile
,
‘there
is
a
great
deal
that
is
very
bad
in
our
own
days
—
very
bad
indeed
.
Many
thoughtful
people
think
that
there
is
more
that
is
bad
in
the
present
than
there
has
ever
been
in
the
past
.
Many
thoughtful
people
in
all
days
have
thought
the
same.’
‘Whenever
wise
men
,
’
said
Herbert
,
‘have
taken
to
thinking
about
their
own
times
,
it
is
quite
true
that
they
have
always
thought
ill
of
them
.
But
that
is
because
the
times
must
have
gone
wrong
before
the
wise
men
take
to
the
business
of
thinking
about
them
at
all
.
We
are
never
conscious
of
our
constitutions
till
they
are
out
of
order.’
‘Ah
!
yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
;
‘how
true
that
is
,
Herbert
!
Philosophy
may
be
a
golden
thing
.
But
it
is
the
gold
of
the
autumn
woods
,
that
soon
falls
,
and
leaves
the
boughs
of
the
nation
naked.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘leaving
nothing
but
Bare
ruined
choirs
,
where
late
the
sweet
birds
sang.’
‘Thank
you
,
Mr.
Leslie
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Herbert
across
the
table
,
‘thank
you
—
an
exquisitely
apt
quotation.’
‘Then
you
,
Mr.
Leslie
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
in
a
disappointed
voice
,
‘you
are
one
of
these
desponding
people
too
,
are
you
?
I
never
heard
anything
so
dismal
in
my
life.’
‘I
certainly
think
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘that
our
age
in
some
ways
could
not
possibly
be
worse
.
Nobody
knows
what
to
believe
,
and
most
people
believe
nothing
.
Don’t
you
find
that
?
’
‘Indeed
I
do
not
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
with
some
vigour
,
‘and
I
am
very
sorry
for
those
who
do
.
That
Mr.
Saunders
,
’
she
added
,
lowering
her
voice
,
‘is
the
first
person
I
ever
heard
express
such
views
.
We
were
dining
only
the
other
day
with
the
Bishop
of
—
—
,
and
I’ll
tell
you
what
he
said
,
Mr.
Leslie
.
He
said
that
the
average
number
of
churches
built
yearly
during
the
last
ten
years
was
greater
than
it
had
ever
been
since
the
Reformation
.
That
does
not
look
as
if
religion
was
on
the
decline
,
does
it
?
I
know
the
Bishop
spoke
of
a
phase
of
infidelity
that
was
passing
over
the
nation
:
but
that
,
he
said
,
would
soon
have
drifted
by
.
Indeed
,
he
told
us
that
all
the
teachings
of
modern
irreligious
science
were
simply
reproductions
of
—
you
must
not
laugh
at
me
if
I
say
the
names
wrong
—
Epicurus
and
Democritus
—
which
had
been
long
ago
refuted
.
And
that
was
no
peculiar
crotchet
of
his
own
mind
;
for
a
very
clever
gentleman
who
was
sitting
next
me
said
that
that
was
the
very
thing
which
all
the
bishops
agreed
in
saying
—
almost
the
only
thing
indeed
in
which
they
did
agree.’
‘Ah
!
’
said
Leslie
,
‘materialism
once
came
to
the
world
like
a
small
street
boy
throwing
mud
at
it
;
and
the
indignant
world
very
soon
drove
it
away
.
But
it
has
now
come
back
again
,
dirtier
than
ever
,
bringing
a
big
brother
with
it
,
and
Heaven
knows
when
we
shall
get
rid
of
it
now.’
‘In
every
state
of
transition
,
’
said
Dr.
Jenkinson
to
Miss
Merton
,
‘there
must
always
be
much
uneasiness
.
But
I
don’t
think
,
’
he
said
,
with
a
little
pleased
laugh
,
‘that
you
will
find
these
times
really
much
worse
than
those
that
went
before
them
.
No
—
no.
If
we
look
at
them
soberly
,
they
are
really
a
great
deal
better
.
We
have
already
got
rid
of
a
vast
amount
of
superstition
and
ignorance
,
and
are
learning
what
Christianity
really
is
.
We
are
learning
true
reverence
—
that
is
,
not
to
dogmatise
about
subjects
of
which
we
cannot
possibly
know
anything.’
‘Just
so
,
Jenkinson
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
;
’
that
is
the
very
thing
I
am
trying
to
teach
the
world
myself
.
Personal
immortality
,
for
instance
,
which
forms
no
part
of
the
sweet
secret
of
authentic
Christianity
—
’
‘Yes
—
yes
,
’
said
the
Doctor
hastily
;
‘the
Church
had
degraded
the
doctrine
.
It
needed
to
be
expressed
anew.’
‘Of
course
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘I
,
as
a
Catholic
—
’
‘Dear
!
dear
!
’
exclaimed
the
Doctor
,
in
some
confusion
,
‘I
beg
your
pardon
.
I
had
no
notion
you
were
a
Roman
Catholic.’
‘I
was
going
to
say
,
’
Miss
Merton
went
on
,
‘that
,
though
of
course
as
a
Catholic
I
am
not
without
what
I
believe
to
be
an
infallible
guide
,
I
feel
just
as
much
as
anyone
the
bad
state
in
which
things
are
now
.
It
is
so
difficult
to
shape
one’s
course
in
life
.
One
has
nowhere
any
work
cut
out
for
one
.
There
is
a
want
of
—
well
—
’
she
said
,
smiling
,
‘of
what
perhaps
,
when
religion
has
been
analysed
by
science
,
will
be
called
moral
ozone
in
the
air.’
‘Such
a
feeling
is
not
unnatural
,
’
said
the
Doctor
;
‘but
you
will
find
it
vanish
if
you
just
resolve
cheerfully
to
go
on
doing
the
duty
next
you
—
even
if
this
be
only
to
order
dinner
.
And
,
’
he
said
,
turning
to
her
rather
abruptly
,
‘don’t
despond
over
the
times
:
that
only
makes
them
worse
.
Besides
,
they
are
not
really
at
all
bad
.
There
is
no
need
for
desponding
at
all.’
‘But
there
is
at
least
excuse
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘when
we
see
all
the
old
faiths
,
the
old
ideas
,
under
which
the
world
has
so
long
found
shelter
,
fading
Like
the
baseless
fabric
of
a
vision
,
rapidly
and
for
ever
away
from
us.’
‘I
don’t
think
so
,
’
said
the
Doctor
,
as
if
that
settled
the
question
.
‘Christianity
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘is
only
retiring
to
make
way
for
something
better
.
Religions
are
not
quickened
unless
they
perish
.
Look
forward
at
the
growing
brightness
of
the
future
,
not
at
the
faded
brightness
of
the
past.’
‘Why
not
look
at
the
present
?
’
said
Dr.
Jenkinson
.
‘Depend
upon
it
,
it
is
not
wise
to
be
above
one’s
times
.
There’s
plenty
of
religion
now
.
The
real
power
of
Christianity
is
growing
every
day
,
even
where
you
least
expect
it.’
‘In
what
part
of
Christianity
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘its
real
power
lies
,
it
would
be
unbecoming
in
me
to
profess
that
I
know
.
But
this
I
do
know
,
that
if
you
take
four
out
of
five
of
the
more
thoughtful
and
instructed
men
of
the
day
,
you
will
find
that
not
only
have
they
no
faith
in
a
personal
God
or
a
personal
immortality
,
but
the
very
notions
of
such
things
seem
to
them
absurdities.’
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘it
was
once
thought
a
characteristic
of
the
lowest
savages
to
be
without
a
belief
in
a
future
life
.
It
will
soon
be
thought
a
characteristic
of
the
lowest
savages
to
be
with
one.’
‘Really
now
—
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
in
a
voice
whose
tone
seemed
to
beseech
everyone
to
be
sensible
,
‘personal
immortality
and
a
personal
Deity
are
no
doctrines
of
Christianity
.
You
,
Jenkinson
,
I
know
agree
with
me.’
There
was
nothing
the
Doctor
so
disliked
as
these
appeals
from
Mr.
Luke
.
He
made
in
this
case
no
response
whatever
.
He
turned
instead
to
Miss
Merton
.
‘You
see
,
’
he
said
to
her
in
a
very
quiet
but
very
judicial
way
,
‘the
age
we
live
in
is
an
age
of
change
.
And
in
all
such
ages
there
must
be
many
things
that
,
if
we
let
them
,
will
pain
and
puzzle
us
.
But
we
mustn’t
let
them
.
There
have
been
many
ages
of
change
before
our
time
,
and
there
are
sure
to
be
many
after
it
.
Our
age
is
not
peculiar.’
Here
he
paused
,
as
he
had
a
way
of
doing
at
times
between
his
sentences
.
This
practice
now
,
as
it
had
often
been
before
,
was
of
a
disservice
to
him
;
for
it
gave
a
fatal
facility
for
interruption
when
he
could
least
have
wished
it
.
In
this
case
Leslie
entirely
put
him
out
,
by
attacking
the
very
statement
which
the
Doctor
least
of
all
had
designed
to
bear
question
.
‘But
in
some
ways
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘this
age
is
peculiar
,
surely
.
It
is
peculiar
in
the
extraordinary
rapidity
of
its
changes
.
Christianity
took
three
hundred
years
to
supplant
polytheism
;
atheism
has
hardly
taken
thirty
to
supplant
Christianity.’
Dr.
Jenkinson
did
not
deign
to
take
the
least
notice
of
this
.
‘I
suppose
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
to
Leslie
,
‘that
you
think
Catholicism
quite
a
thing
of
the
past
?
’
‘I’m
afraid
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘that
my
opinion
on
that
is
of
very
small
importance
.
But
,
however
that
may
be
,
you
must
admit
that
in
the
views
of
the
world
at
large
there
have
been
great
changes
;
and
these
,
I
say
,
have
come
on
us
with
so
astonishing
a
quickness
that
they
have
plunged
us
into
a
state
of
mental
anarchy
that
has
not
been
equalled
since
mental
order
has
been
known
.
There
is
no
recognised
rule
of
life
any
where
.
The
old
rules
only
satisfy
those
who
are
not
capable
of
feeling
the
need
of
any
rule
at
all
.
Every
one
who
does
right
at
all
only
does
what
is
right
in
his
own
eyes
.
All
society
,
it
seems
,
is
going
to
pieces.’
‘I
,
’
said
Mr.
Rose
,
‘look
upon
social
dissolution
as
the
true
condition
of
the
most
perfect
life
.
For
the
centre
of
life
is
the
individual
,
and
it
is
only
through
dissolution
that
the
individual
can
re-emerge
.
All
the
warrings
of
endless
doubts
,
all
the
questionings
of
matter
and
of
spirit
,
which
I
have
myself
known
,
I
value
only
because
,
remembering
the
weariness
of
them
,
I
take
a
profounder
and
more
exquisite
pleasure
in
the
colour
of
a
crocus
,
the
pulsations
of
a
chord
of
music
,
or
a
picture
of
Sandro
Botticelli’s.’
Mr.
Rose’s
words
hardly
produced
all
the
effect
he
could
have
wished
;
for
the
last
part
was
almost
drowned
in
the
general
rustle
of
the
ladies
rising
.
‘Before
we
go
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘will
you
be
good
enough
to
tell
me
the
history
of
these
salt-cellars
?
I
wanted
to
have
asked
you
at
the
beginning
of
dinner
,
but
you
made
yourself
so
very
appalling
then
,
that
I
really
did
not
venture.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘no
doubt
they
surprise
you
.
They
were
a
present
made
to
me
the
other
day
by
a
friend
of
mine
—
an
eminent
man
of
science
,
and
are
models
of
a
peculiar
kind
of
retort
he
has
invented
,
for
burning
human
bodies
,
and
turning
them
into
gas.’
‘Good
gracious
!
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
,
‘how
horrible
!
I
insist
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
on
your
having
another
set
to-morrow
night
—
remember.’
‘There
,
’
said
Laurence
,
when
the
gentlemen
had
resettled
themselves
,
and
had
begun
their
wine
,
‘there
is
the
new
version
of
the
skeleton
at
the
banquet-board
—
the
two
handfuls
of
white
dust
,
to
which
we
,
the
salt
of
the
earth
,
shall
one
day
crumble
.
Let
us
sacrifice
all
the
bulls
we
have
to
Pluto
illacrimabilis
—
let
us
sacrifice
ourselves
to
one
another
,
or
to
Heaven
—
to
this
favour
must
we
come
.
Is
not
that
so
,
Mr.
Storks
?
’
‘Laurence
,
’
said
Dr.
Jenkinson
briskly
,
‘the
conversation
hasn’t
kept
pace
with
the
dinner
.
We
have
got
no
farther
than
“
The
Present
”
yet
.
The
ladies
are
going
to
talk
of
“
The
Future
”
by
themselves
.
See
—
there
they
are
out
on
the
terrace.’
Mr.
Storks
here
drew
his
chair
to
the
table
,
and
cleared
his
throat
.
‘It
is
easier
,
’
he
said
,
‘to
talk
about
the
present
now
we
are
alone
—
now
they
,
’
he
nodded
his
head
in
the
direction
of
the
party
outside
,
‘are
gone
out
to
talk
about
the
future
in
the
moonlight
.
There
are
many
things
which
even
yet
it
does
not
do
to
say
before
women
—
at
least
,
before
all
women.’
‘My
aunt
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘is
a
great
authority
on
woman’s
education
and
true
position
;
and
she
has
written
an
essay
to
advance
the
female
cause.’
‘Indeed
?
’
said
Mr.
Storks
;
‘I
was
not
aware
of
that
.
I
shall
look
forward
with
much
pleasure
to
some
conversation
with
her
.
But
what
I
was
going
to
say
related
to
the
present
,
which
at
dinner
was
on
all
sides
so
mercilessly
run
down
.
I
was
going
to
claim
for
the
present
age
,
in
thought
and
speculation
(
and
it
is
these
that
give
their
tone
to
its
entire
conduct
of
life
)
,
as
its
noble
and
peculiar
feature
,
a
universal
,
intrepid
,
dogged
resolve
to
find
out
and
face
the
complete
truth
of
things
,
and
to
allow
no
prejudice
,
however
dear
to
us
,
to
obscure
our
vision
.
This
is
the
only
real
morality
:
and
not
only
is
it
full
of
blessing
for
the
future
,
but
it
is
giving
us
“
manifold
more
in
this
present
time
”
as
well
.
The
work
of
science
,
you
see
,
is
twofold
;
it
enlarges
the
horizon
of
the
mind
,
and
improves
the
conditions
of
the
body
.
If
you
will
pardon
my
saying
so
,
Mr.
Herbert
,
I
think
your
antipathy
to
science
must
be
clue
to
your
not
having
fully
appreciated
its
true
work
and
dignity.’
‘The
work
of
science
is
,
I
know
,
twofold
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘speculative
and
practical.’
‘Exactly
so
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
approvingly
.
‘And
all
it
can
do
for
us
in
speculation
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘is
to
teach
us
that
we
have
no
life
hereafter
:
all
it
can
do
for
us
in
practice
,
is
to
ruin
our
life
here
.
It
enervates
us
by
providing
us
with
base
luxury
;
it
degrades
us
by
turning
our
attention
to
base
knowledge.’
‘No
—
no
,
’
said
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
with
one
of
his
little
laughs
,
‘not
that
.
I
don’t
think
,
Mr.
Storks
,
that
Mr.
Herbert
always
quite
means
what
he
says
.
We
mustn’t
take
him
at
his
word.’
‘My
dear
sir
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
turning
to
the
Doctor
,
‘you
are
a
consecrated
priest
of
the
mystical
Church
of
Christ’
—
Dr.
Jenkinson
winced
terribly
at
this
—
‘and
let
me
ask
you
if
you
think
it
the
work
of
Christ
to
bring
into
men’s
minds
eternal
corruption
,
instead
of
eternal
life
—
or
,
rather
,
not
corruption
,
I
should
say
,
but
putrefaction
.
For
what
is
putrefaction
but
decomposition
?
And
at
the
touch
of
science
all
our
noblest
ideas
decompose
and
putrefy
,
till
our
whole
souls
are
strewn
with
dead
hopes
and
dead
religions
,
with
corpses
of
all
the
thoughts
we
loved
Quickening
slowly
into
lower
forms
.
You
may
call
it
analysis
,
but
I
call
it
death.’
‘I
wish
we
could
persuade
you
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
very
temperately
,
‘to
take
a
fairer
view
of
things
.
Surely
truth
cannot
in
the
long
run
be
anything
but
life-giving.’
‘Let
us
take
care
of
facts
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
,
‘and
fictions
—
I
beg
your
pardon
,
religion
—
will
take
care
of
itself.’
‘And
religion
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘will
take
care
of
itself
very
well
.
Of
course
we
don’t
waste
time
now
in
thinking
about
personal
immortality
.
We
shall
not
live
;
but
the
mind
of
man
will
;
and
religion
will
live
too
,
being
part
of
the
mind
of
man
.
Religion
is
,
indeed
,
to
the
inner
world
what
the
sky
is
to
the
outer
.
It
is
the
mind’s
canopy
—
the
infinite
mental
azure
in
which
the
mysterious
source
of
our
being
is
at
once
revealed
and
hidden
.
Let
us
beware
,
then
,
of
not
considering
religion
noble
;
but
let
us
beware
still
more
of
considering
it
true
.
We
may
fancy
that
we
trace
in
the
clouds
shapes
of
real
things
;
and
,
as
long
as
we
know
that
this
is
only
fancy
,
I
know
of
no
holier
occupation
for
the
human
mind
than
such
cloud-gazing
.
But
let
us
always
recollect
that
the
cloud
which
to
us
may
seem
shaped
like
a
son
of
man
,
may
seem
to
another
to
be
backed
like
a
weasel
,
and
to
another
to
be
very
like
a
whale
.
What
,
then
,
’
Mr.
Stockton
added
,
‘can
be
a
nobler
study
than
the
great
book
of
Nature
,
or
,
as
we
used
to
call
it
,
the
works
of
God
?
’
‘Pray
do
not
think
,
’
said
Mr.
Herbert
,
‘that
I
complain
of
this
generation
because
it
studies
Nature
.
I
complain
of
it
because
it
does
not
study
her
.
Yes
,
’
he
went
on
,
as
he
saw
Mr.
Stockton
start
,
‘you
can
analyse
her
in
your
test
tubes
,
you
can
spy
at
her
through
your
microscopes
;
but
can
you
see
her
with
your
own
eyes
,
or
receive
her
into
your
own
souls
?
You
can
tell
us
what
she
makes
her
wonders
of
,
and
how
she
makes
them
,
and
how
long
she
takes
about
it
.
But
you
cannot
tell
us
what
these
wonders
are
like
when
they
are
made
.
When
God
said
,
“
Let
there
be
light
,
and
light
was
,
and
God
saw
that
it
was
good
,
”
was
he
thinking
,
as
he
saw
this
,
of
the
exact
velocity
it
travelled
at
,
and
of
the
exact
laws
it
travelled
by
,
which
you
wise
men
are
at
such
infinite
pains
to
discover
;
or
was
he
thinking
of
something
else
,
which
you
take
no
pains
to
discover
at
all
—
of
how
it
clothed
the
wings
of
the
morning
with
silver
,
and
the
feathers
of
the
evening
with
gold
?
Is
water
,
think
you
,
a
nobler
thing
to
the
modern
chemist
,
who
can
tell
you
exactly
what
gases
it
is
made
of
,
and
nothing
more
;
or
to
Turner
,
who
could
not
tell
you
at
all
what
it
is
made
of
,
but
who
did
know
and
who
could
tell
you
what
it
is
made
—
what
it
is
made
by
the
sunshine
,
and
the
cloud-shadow
,
and
the
storm-wind
—
who
knew
how
it
paused
in
the
taintless
mountain
trout-pool
,
a
living
crystal
over
stones
of
flickering
amber
;
and
how
it
broke
itself
turbid
,
with
its
choirs
of
turbulent
thunder
,
when
the
rocks
card
it
into
foam
,
and
where
the
tempest
sifts
it
into
spray
?
When
Pindar
called
water
the
best
of
things
,
was
he
thinking
of
it
as
the
union
of
oxygen
and
hydrogen
—
’
‘He
would
have
been
much
wiser
if
he
had
been
,
’
interposed
Dr.
Jenkinson
.
‘Thales
,
to
whose
theory
,
as
you
know
,
Pindar
was
referring
—
’
But
the
Doctor’s
words
were
utterly
unavailing
to
check
the
torrent
of
Mr.
Herbert’s
eloquence
.
They
only
turned
it
into
a
slightly
different
course
.
‘Ah
!
masters
of
modern
science
,
’
he
went
on
,
‘you
can
tell
us
what
pure
water
is
made
of
;
but
,
thanks
to
your
drains
and
your
mills
,
you
cannot
tell
us
where
to
find
it
.
You
can
,
no
doubt
,
explain
to
us
all
about
sunsets
;
but
the
smoke
of
your
towns
and
your
factories
has
made
it
impossible
for
us
to
see
one
.
However
,
each
generation
is
wise
in
its
own
wisdom
;
and
ours
would
sooner
look
at
a
fœtus
in
a
bottle
,
than
at
a
statue
of
the
god
Apollo
,
from
the
hand
of
Phidias
,
and
in
the
air
of
Athens.’
During
all
this
speech
Mr.
Storks
had
remained
with
his
face
buried
in
his
hands
,
every
now
and
then
drawing
in
his
breath
through
his
teeth
,
as
if
he
were
in
pain
.
When
it
was
over
he
looked
up
with
a
scared
expression
,
as
if
he
hardly
knew
where
he
was
,
and
seemed
quite
unable
to
utter
a
syllable
.
‘Of
course
,
’
said
Mr.
Stockton
,
‘mere
science
,
as
science
,
does
not
deal
with
moral
right
and
wrong.’
‘No
,
’
said
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘for
it
has
shown
that
right
and
wrong
are
terms
of
a
bygone
age
,
connoting
altogether
false
ideas
.
Mere
automata
as
science
shows
we
are
—
clockwork
machines
,
wound
up
by
meat
and
drink
—
’
‘As
for
that
,
’
broke
in
Mr.
Storks
,
who
had
by
this
time
recovered
himself
—
and
his
weighty
voice
at
once
silenced
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘I
would
advise
our
young
friend
not
to
be
too
confident
.
We
may
be
automata
,
or
we
may
not
.
Science
has
not
yet
decided
.
And
upon
my
word
,
’
he
said
,
striking
the
table
,
‘I
don’t
myself
care
which
we
are
.
Supposing
the
Deity
—
if
there
be
one
—
should
offer
to
make
me
a
machine
,
if
I
am
not
one
,
on
condition
that
I
should
always
go
right
,
I
,
for
one
,
would
gladly
close
with
the
proposal.’
‘But
you
forget
,
’
said
Allen
,
‘that
in
the
moral
sense
there
would
be
no
going
right
at
all
,
if
there
were
not
also
the
possibility
of
going
wrong
.
If
your
watch
keeps
good
time
you
don’t
call
it
virtuous
,
nor
if
it
keeps
bad
time
do
you
call
it
sinful.’
‘Sin
,
Lord
Allen
,
’
said
Mr.
Storks
,
‘is
a
word
that
has
helped
to
retard
moral
and
social
progress
more
than
anything
.
Nothing
is
good
or
bad
,
but
thinking
makes
it
so
;
and
the
superstitious
and
morbid
way
in
which
a
number
of
entirely
innocent
things
have
been
banned
as
sin
,
has
caused
more
than
half
the
tragedies
of
the
world
.
Science
will
establish
an
entirely
new
basis
of
morality
;
and
the
sunlight
of
rational
approbation
will
shine
on
many
a
thing
,
hitherto
overshadowed
by
the
curse
of
a
hypothetical
God.’
‘Exactly
so
,
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Saunders
eagerly
.
‘Now
,
I’m
not
at
all
that
sort
of
man
myself
,
’
he
went
on
,
‘so
don’t
think
it
because
I
say
this.’
Everyone
stared
at
Mr.
Saunders
in
wonder
as
to
what
he
could
mean
.
‘We
think
it
,
for
instance
,
’
he
said
,
‘a
very
sad
thing
when
a
girl
is
as
we
call
it
ruined
.
But
it
is
we
really
that
make
all
the
sadness
.
She
is
ruined
only
because
we
think
she
is
so
.
And
I
have
little
doubt
that
that
higher
philosophy
of
the
future
that
Mr.
Storks
speaks
of
will
go
far
,
some
day
,
towards
solving
the
great
question
of
women’s
sphere
of
action
,
by
its
recognition
of
prostitution
as
an
honourable
and
beneficent
profession.’
‘Sir
!
’
exclaimed
Mr.
Storks
,
striking
the
table
,
and
glaring
with
indignation
at
Mr.
Saunders
,
‘I
could
hardly
have
believed
that
such
misplaced
flippancy
—
’
‘Flippancy
!
it
is
reasoned
truth
,
’
shrieked
Mr.
Saunders
,
upsetting
his
wine-glass
.
Luckily
this
brought
about
a
pause
.
Laurence
took
advantage
of
it
.
‘See
,
’
he
said
,
‘Dr
.
Jenkinson
has
left
us
.
Will
no
one
have
any
more
wine
?
—
Then
suppose
we
follow
him.’
BOOK
I
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
IT
was
a
calm
,
lovely
evening
.
The
moon
was
rising
over
the
sea
,
and
the
sea
was
slowly
silvering
under
it
.
A
soft
breeze
breathed
gently
,
full
of
the
scents
of
flowers
;
and
in
the
low
sky
of
the
west
there
yet
lingered
a
tender
peach-colour
.
The
ladies
were
sitting
about
on
chairs
,
grouped
together
,
but
with
several
little
groups
within
the
group
;
and
amongst
them
all
was
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
making
himself
particularly
agreeable
to
Mrs.
Sinclair
.
When
the
gentlemen
emerged
there
was
a
general
stir
,
and
Lady
Ambrose
,
shutting
up
a
volume
of
St.-Simon’s
Memoirs
,
said
,
‘Well
,
Mr.
Laurence
,
we
have
been
talking
most
industriously
about
the
future.’
Laurence
was
standing
with
Mr.
Luke
on
the
step
of
the
dining-room
window
,
and
both
were
looking
out
gravely
on
the
tranquil
scene
.
‘Do
you
remember
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘that
it
was
here
,
three
years
ago
,
that
you
composed
the
lines
that
stand
last
in
your
published
volumes
?
’
‘I
remember
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
dreamily
.
‘What
an
evening
that
was
!
’
‘I
wish
you
would
repeat
them
,
’
said
Laurence
.
‘What
is
the
good
?
’
said
Mr.
Luke
;
‘why
rouse
again
the
voices
that
haunt
About
the
mouldered
lodges
of
the
past
?
’
‘Mr
.
Luke
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
appealingly
,
‘I
do
so
wish
you
would.’
‘Is
Mr.
Luke
going
to
recite
poetry
?
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
coming
languidly
up
to
them
.
‘How
delicious
!
’
She
was
looking
lovely
in
the
dim
light
,
with
a
diamond
star
shining
in
her
dark
hair
;
and
for
a
mortal
bard
there
was
positively
no
resisting
her
appeal
.
Mr.
Luke
,
with
a
silent
composure
,
pressed
his
hands
for
a
moment
against
his
forehead
;
he
gave
one
hem
;
and
then
in
a
clear
melodious
voice
began
as
follows
:
—
‘Softly
the
evening
descends
,
Violet
and
soft
.
The
sea
Adds
to
the
silence
,
below
Pleasant
and
cool
on
the
beach
Breaking
;
yes
,
and
a
breeze
Calm
as
the
twilight
itself
Furtively
sighs
through
the
dusk
,
Listlessly
lifting
my
hair
,
Fanning
my
thought-wearied
brow
.
Thus
I
stand
in
the
gloom
Watching
the
moon-track
begin
Quivering
to
die
like
a
dream
Over
the
far
sea-line
To
the
unknown
region
beyond
.
‘So
for
ages
hath
man
Gazed
on
the
ocean
of
time
From
the
shores
of
his
birth
,
and
,
turning
His
eyes
from
the
quays
,
the
thronged
Marts
,
the
noise
and
the
din
To
the
far
horizon
,
hath
dreamed
Of
a
timeless
country
beyond
.
Vainly
:
for
how
should
he
pass
,
Being
on
foot
,
o’er
the
wet
Ways
of
the
unplumbed
waves
?
How
,
without
ship
,
should
he
pass
Over
the
shipless
sea
To
the
timeless
country
beyond
?
‘Ah
,
but
once
—
once
long
ago
,
Came
there
a
ship
white-sailed
From
the
country
beyond
,
with
bright
Oarsmen
,
and
men
that
sang
;
Came
to
Humanity’s
coasts
,
Called
to
the
men
on
the
shore
,
Joyously
touched
at
the
port
.
Then
did
time-weary
man
Climb
the
bulwarks
,
the
deck
Eagerly
crowding
.
Anon
With
jubilant
voices
raised
,
And
singing
,
“
When
Israel
came
Out
of
Egypt
”
and
whatso
else
In
the
psalm
is
written
,
they
passed
Out
of
the
ken
of
the
land
,
Over
the
far
sea-line
,
To
the
unknown
region
beyond
.
‘Where
are
they
now
,
then
—
they
That
were
borne
out
of
sight
by
the
ship-
Our
brothers
,
of
times
gone
by
?
Why
have
they
left
us
here
Solemn
,
dejected
,
alone
,
Gathered
in
groups
on
the
shore
?
Why
?
For
we
,
too
,
have
gazed
O’er
the
waste
of
waters
,
and
watched
For
a
sail
as
keenly
as
they
.
Ah
,
wretched
men
that
we
are
!
On
our
haggard
faces
and
brows
Aching
,
a
wild
breeze
fawns
Full
of
the
scents
of
the
sea
,
Redolent
of
regions
beyond
.
Why
,
then
,
tarries
the
ship
?
When
will
her
white
sail
rise
Like
a
star
on
the
sea-line
?
When
?
‘When
?
—
And
the
answer
comes
From
the
sailless
face
of
the
sea
,
”
Ah
,
vain
watchers
,
what
boots
The
calm
of
the
evening
?
Have
ye
not
watched
through
the
day
Turbulent
waves
,
the
expanse
Endless
,
shaken
with
storm
,
And
ask
ye
where
is
the
ship
?
Deeper
than
plummet
can
dive
She
is
bedded
deep
in
the
ooze
,
And
over
her
tall
mast
floats
The
purple
plain
of
the
calm
.
”
‘Yes
—
and
never
a
ship
Since
this
is
sunken
,
will
come
Ever
again
o’er
the
waves
—
Nay
,
not
even
the
craft
with
the
fierce
Steersman
,
him
of
the
marsh
Livid
,
with
wheels
of
flame
Circling
his
eyes
,
to
smite
The
lingering
soul
with
his
oar
.
—
Not
that
even
.
But
we
Drop
where
we
stand
one
by
one
On
the
shingles
and
sands
of
time
,
And
cover
in
taciturn
gloom
,
With
only
perhaps
some
tear
,
Each
for
his
brother
the
hushed
Heart
and
the
limitless
dreams
‘Thank
you
,
Mr.
Luke
,
so
much
,
’
said
Lady
Ambrose
.
‘How
charming
!
I
am
always
so
fond
of
poems
about
the
sea.’
‘Ah
,
’
said
Mr.
Luke
,
turning
to
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
‘these
are
emotions
scarcely
worth
describing.’
‘Certainly
not
,
’
muttered
Mr.
Storks
,
half
aloud
as
he
moved
off
to
discover
Lady
Grace
.
Mr.
Luke
stood
apart
,
and
surveyed
the
party
with
a
look
of
pensive
pity
.
On
Mr.
Storks
,
however
,
whose
last
remark
he
had
overheard
,
his
eyes
rested
with
an
expression
somewhat
more
contemptuous
.
The
brightening
moonlight
fell
softly
on
the
group
before
him
,
giving
it
a
particularly
picturesque
effect
,
as
it
touched
the
many
colours
and
folds
of
the
ladies’
dresses
,
and
struck
here
and
there
a
furtive
flash
from
a
gem
on
wrist
or
throat
.
The
tranquil
hour
seemed
to
have
a
tranquillising
effect
on
nearly
everyone
;
and
the
conversation
reached
Mr.
Luke’s
ears
as
a
low
murmur
,
broken
only
by
the
deep
sound
of
Mr.
Storks’s
voice
,
and
the
occasional
high
notes
of
Mr.
Saunders
,
who
seemed
to
Mr.
Luke
,
in
his
present
frame
of
mind
,
to
be
like
a
shrill
cock
crowing
to
the
world
before
the
sunrise
of
universal
philistinism
.
Laurence
meanwhile
had
caught
Miss
Merton’s
eyes
looking
at
him
with
a
grave
regard
;
and
this
had
brought
him
instantly
to
her
side
,
when
Mr.
Luke
had
ended
his
recital
.
‘We
didn’t
spare
the
times
we
live
in
,
to-night
,
did
we
?
’
he
said
slowly
to
her
in
a
low
voice
.
‘Well
,
well
—
I
wonder
what
it
is
all
coming
to
—
we
and
our
times
together
!
We
are
certainly
a
curious
medley
here
,
all
of
us
.
I
suppose
no
age
but
ours
could
have
produced
one
like
it
—
at
least
,
let
us
hope
so
,
for
the
credit
of
the
ages
in
general.’
‘I
must
say
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
smiling
,
‘that
you
seem
to
take
to
the
age
very
kindly
,
and
to
be
very
happy
amongst
your
friends
.
But
you
did
not
tell
us
very
much
of
what
you
thought
yourself.’
‘I
don’t
often
say
what
I
think
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘because
I
don’t
often
know
what
I
think
;
but
I
know
a
great
many
things
that
I
don’t
think
;
and
I
confess
I
take
a
pleasure
in
saying
these
,
and
in
hearing
others
say
them
;
so
the
society
that
I
choose
as
a
rule
represents
not
the
things
I
think
I
approve
,
but
the
things
I
am
sure
I
repudiate.’
‘I
confess
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘I
don’t
quite
understand
that.’
‘Shall
I
tell
you
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘why
I
live
so
much
in
society
—
amongst
my
friends
,
as
you
call
them
?
Simply
because
I
feel
,
in
my
life
,
as
a
child
does
in
a
dark
room
;
and
I
must
have
some
one
to
talk
to
,
or
else
I
think
I
should
go
mad
.
What
one
says
is
little
matter
,
so
long
as
one
makes
a
noise
of
some
sort
,
and
forgets
the
ghosts
that
in
one’s
heart
one
is
shuddering
at.’
Miss
Merton
was
silent
for
a
moment
,
and
looked
up
into
the
sky
in
which
the
stars
were
now
one
by
one
appearing
.
‘I
suppose
,
’
she
said
presently
,
‘you
think
it
is
a
very
poor
affair
—
life’s
whole
business
.
And
yet
I
don’t
see
why
you
should.’
‘Not
see
why
I
should
?
’
repeated
Laurence
.
‘Ah
,
that
shows
how
little
you
,
from
your
position
,
can
sympathise
with
ours
.
I
am
not
surprised
at
it
.
Of
course
,
it
is
out
of
the
question
that
you
should
.
You
,
happy
in
some
sustaining
faith
,
can
see
a
meaning
in
all
life
,
and
all
life’s
affections
.
You
can
endure
—
you
can
even
welcome
its
sorrows
.
The
clouds
of
ennui
themselves
for
you
have
silver
linings
.
For
your
religion
is
a
kind
of
philosopher’s
stone
,
turning
whatever
it
touches
into
something
precious
.
But
we
—
we
can
only
remember
that
for
us
,
too
,
things
had
a
meaning
once
;
but
they
have
it
no
longer
.
Life
stares
at
us
now
,
all
blank
and
expressionless
,
like
the
eyes
of
a
lost
friend
,
who
is
not
dead
,
but
who
has
turned
an
idiot
.
Perhaps
you
never
read
Clough’s
Poems
,
did
you
?
Scarcely
a
day
passes
in
which
I
do
not
echo
to
myself
his
words
:
—
Ah
well-a-day
,
for
we
are
souls
bereaved
!
Of
all
the
creatures
under
heaven’s
wide
cope
,
We
are
most
hopeless
who
had
once
most
hope
,
‘And
do
you
think
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
in
a
low
tone
,
‘that
belief
in
these
days
brings
no
painful
perplexities
too
?
Do
you
think
that
we
can
look
out
on
the
state
of
the
world
now
,
and
think
about
its
future
,
without
anxiety
?
But
really
,
’
she
went
on
,
raising
her
voice
,
‘if
I
,
like
you
,
thought
that
Christianity
was
not
true
,
I
should
not
waste
my
time
in
lamenting
over
it
.
I
should
rather
be
glad
that
I
had
got
free
from
a
gigantic
and
awful
imposition.’
‘What
!
’
exclaimed
Laurence
,
‘should
we
rejoice
at
our
old
guide
dropping
dead
amongst
the
mountains
,
even
though
he
had
lost
his
way
;
if
so
we
are
left
hopeless
,
and
without
any
guide
at
all
?
’
‘You
have
your
consciences
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
with
some
decision
in
her
voice
;
‘you
surely
don’t
mean
to
say
that
you
have
lost
them
?
’
‘As
for
our
consciences
,
’
said
Leslie
,
who
was
standing
close
by
,
‘we
revere
them
so
much
that
we
fancy
they
possess
some
power
.
But
conscience
,
in
most
souls
,
is
like
an
English
Sovereign
—
it
reigns
,
but
it
does
not
govern
.
Its
function
is
merely
to
give
a
formal
assent
to
the
Bills
passed
by
the
passions
;
and
it
knows
,
if
it
opposes
what
those
are
really
bent
upon
,
that
ten
to
one
it
will
be
obliged
to
abdicate.’
‘Let
us
hope
that
the
constitutions
of
most
souls
are
more
stable
than
that
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
.
‘As
far
as
morality
goes
,
I
expect
you
have
quite
enough
to
guide
you
;
and
if
you
think
religion
false
,
I
don’t
see
why
its
loss
should
trouble
you
.
And
life
itself
,
remember
,
has
plenty
of
pleasures
.
It
is
full
of
things
worth
living
for.’
‘Is
it
?
’
exclaimed
Leslie
with
sudden
emphasis
,
and
he
looked
into
Miss
Merton’s
face
with
an
expression
half
absent
and
half
wondering
.
‘Is
there
anything
in
life
that
you
really
think
is
,
for
its
own
sake
,
worth
living
for
?
To
me
it
seems
that
we
are
haunted
with
the
power
of
imagining
that
there
might
be
,
and
are
pursued
with
the
knowledge
that
there
never
is
.
Look
at
that
lovely
water
before
us
,
with
its
floods
of
moonlight
—
how
it
ripples
,
how
it
sparkles
away
into
the
distance
!
What
happiness
sights
like
these
suggest
to
one
!
How
happy
they
might
make
us
—
might
,
but
they
never
do
!
They
only
madden
us
with
a
vague
pain
,
that
I
is
like
the
sense
of
something
lost
for
ever.’
‘Still
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘life
is
not
all
moonlight
.
Surely
friendship
and
affection
are
worth
having
?
’
‘Let
me
beg
you
,
Miss
Merton
,
’
said
Leslie
,
replying
to
her
tone
rather
than
to
her
words
,
‘not
to
think
that
I
am
always
pining
and
bemoaning
myself
.
Fortunately
the
deeper
part
of
one’s
nature
will
often
go
to
sleep
,
and
then
the
surface
can
enjoy
itself
.
We
can
even
laugh
with
our
lips
at
the
very
things
that
our
hearts
in
silence
are
breaking
for
.
But
as
for
happiness
,
that
is
always
like
prophecy
,
it
is
only
fulfilled
in
the
future
;
or
else
it
is
a
miracle
—
it
only
exists
in
the
past
.
The
actual
things
we
wish
for
we
may
very
likely
get
,
but
they
always
come
too
late
or
too
soon
.
When
the
boy
is
in
love
,
he
tries
to
feel
like
a
man
;
when
the
man
is
in
love
,
he
tries
to
feel
like
a
boy
;
and
both
in
vain.’
‘Ah
,
’
exclaimed
Laurence
,
‘I
think
very
differently
from
that
.
I
know
,
’
he
said
,
turning
to
Miss
Merton
,
‘that
friendship
and
affection
are
things
worth
having
;
and
if
only
pain
and
anxiety
would
leave
me
,
I
could
enjoy
the
taste
of
happiness.’
‘Could
you
?
’
said
Leslie
.
‘When
I
look
at
what
we
are
and
what
the
world
is
,
I
can
fancy
no
more
melancholy
spectacle
than
a
happy
man
;
though
I
admit
,
’
he
added
as
he
moved
slowly
away
,
‘that
there
is
none
more
amusing
than
a
man
who
tries
to
be
melancholy.’
‘Leslie
is
oddly
changed
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘since
I
saw
him
last
.
I
am
distressed
with
life
because
I
cannot
find
out
its
worth
.
He
is
indignant
at
it
,
it
seems
,
because
he
thinks
he
has
found
out
its
worthlessness
.
And
yet
—
I
envy
him
his
temperament
.
He
never
lets
any
melancholy
subdue
him
.
He
can
always
laugh
it
down
in
a
moment
;
and
he
will
trample
bravely
on
any
of
his
sentiments
if
he
is
on
the
road
to
anything
he
is
proud
of
aiming
at.’
Laurence
was
silent
for
a
moment
,
and
then
said
abruptly
:
—
‘I
dare
say
you
think
me
very
morbid
;
but
perhaps
you
can
hardly
realise
the
intense
restless
misery
that
a
man
endures
when
he
can
find
nothing
to
do
which
he
really
feels
worth
doing
.
Could
I
only
find
some
one
thing
—
one
great
cause
to
labour
for
—
one
great
idea
—
I
could
devote
my
whole
self
to
it
,
and
be
happy
:
for
labour
,
after
all
,
is
the
only
thing
that
never
palls
on
a
man
.
But
such
a
cause
,
such
an
idea
—
I
can
find
it
nowhere
.
Politics
have
turned
into
a
petty
,
weary
game
;
religion
is
dead
.
Our
new
prophets
only
offer
us
Humanity
,
in
place
of
the
God
of
which
they
have
deprived
us
.
And
Humanity
makes
a
very
poor
Deity
,
since
it
is
every
day
disgracing
itself
,
and
is
never
of
the
same
mind
from
one
week’s
end
to
another
.
And
so
here
I
am
utterly
alone
—
friendless
,
and
with
nothing
to
help
me
;
feeling
that
,
were
it
not
for
the
petty
contemptible
interests
I
manufacture
for
myself
from
day
to
day
,
life
would
be
quite
unbearable.’
‘And
yet
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘you
have
much
to
make
you
happy
—
much
that
you
would
be
sorry
to
lose.’
‘I
have
a
certain
position
,
’
said
Laurence
,
‘and
a
certain
amount
of
wealth
,
and
I
would
not
willingly
lose
anything
of
either
of
these
;
but
that
is
not
because
,
in
my
heart
,
I
value
them
;
but
because
,
if
I
lost
them
,
I
might
in
my
heart
cease
to
despise
them.’
‘Surely
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘there
is
a
better
way
of
looking
at
the
matter
.
You
came
into
the
world
with
all
your
lower
ambitions
satisfied
for
you
.
The
ground
therefore
is
quite
clear
for
the
higher
ambitions
.
That
is
why
I
think
an
aristocracy
,
as
a
rule
,
must
always
be
the
best
governors
of
men
,
for
their
ambitions
,
as
a
rule
,
are
the
only
genuine
ones
.
Think
,
too
,
what
an
advantage
mere
wealth
is
.
The
highest
labour
will
never
produce
money
,
but
generally
requires
it.’
‘That
is
just
the
difficulty
,
’
said
Laurence
.
‘What
shall
I
labour
for
?
I
am
almost
maddened
sometimes
,
as
I
sit
all
the
day
idle
,
and
seem
to
hear
the
hateful
wasted
moments
slipping
away
from
me
.
And
I
could
do
something
,
I
am
sure
.
I
feel
I
have
powers.’
‘I
think
,
’
said
Miss
Merton
,
‘that
all
I
should
say
to
you
is
,
find
something
to
do
.
The
power
to
find
or
make
an
object
is
,
I
think
,
a
great
part
of
genius
.
However
,
’
she
said
,
with
some
sympathy
in
her
voice
,
‘if
you
are
in
difficulties
,
I
am
sure
I
wish
I
could
help
you.’
‘Well
,
’
said
Laurence
in
a
subdued
voice
,
‘I’m
sure
I
beg
your
pardon
for
my
egoism
.
I
never
talked
so
long
about
myself
in
my
whole
life
before
;
and
I
promise
never
to
do
so
again.’
Leslie
meanwhile
had
moved
away
towards
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
who
,
looking
particularly
fascinating
,
was
still
commanding
the
attentions
of
Dr.
Jenkinson
.
The
Doctor
was
standing
by
her
,
all
deferent
gallantry
,
and
,
to
Leslie’s
surprise
,
was
saying
something
to
her
about
Sappho
.
‘And
now
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
with
a
little
appealing
dainty
smile
,
‘I
want
to
ask
you
something
about
the
Greek
Anthology
too
.
I
can’t
read
much
Greek
myself
:
but
a
gentleman
who
used
to
be
rather
kind
to
me
,
translated
me
a
good
deal
of
Greek
poetry
,
once
upon
a
time
—
when
my
husband
,
’
she
said
,
with
a
little
shrug
of
the
shoulders
,
‘used
to
go
to
sleep
after
his
dinner.’
Dr.
Jenkinson
here
glanced
suspiciously
at
Mrs.
Sinclair
.
‘Now
,
what
I
want
you
to
tell
me
,
’
she
said
,
‘is
something
about
some
little
—
ahem
—
little
love
songs
,
I
think
they
were
—
ἐρωτικ-something
or
other
—
I
really
can’t
pronounce
the
name.’
The
Doctor
started
.
‘And
,
Dr.
Jenkinson
,
please
,
’
Mrs.
Sinclair
went
on
in
a
voice
of
plaintive
innocence
,
‘not
to
think
me
a
terrible
blue-stocking
,
because
I
ask
you
these
questions
;
for
I
really
hardly
know
any
Greek
myself
—
except
perhaps
a
verse
or
two
of
the
New
Testament
;
and
that’s
not
very
good
Greek
,
I
believe
,
is
it
?
But
the
gentleman
who
translated
so
much
to
me
,
when
he
came
to
these
little
poems
I
speak
of
,
was
continually
,
though
he
was
a
very
good
scholar
,
quite
unable
to
translate
them
.
Now
,
why
should
that
have
been
,
I
want
to
know
?
Are
Greek
love-poems
very
hard
?
’
‘Well
,
’
said
the
Doctor
,
stammering
,
yet
re-assured
by
Mrs.
Sinclair’s
manner
,
‘they
were
probably
—
your
friend
perhaps
—
well
—
they
were
a
little
obscure
perhaps
—
much
Greek
is
—
or
—
’
‘Corrupt
?
’
suggested
Mrs.
Sinclair
naively
.
The
word
was
a
simple
one
:
but
it
sufficed
to
work
a
miracle
on
Dr.
Jenkinson
.
For
the
first
time
in
his
life
to
a
lady
who
united
the
two
charms
of
beauty
and
fashion
,
to
both
of
which
he
was
eminently
susceptible
,
Dr.
Jenkinson
was
rude
.
He
turned
abruptly
away
,
and
staring
hard
at
the
moon
,
not
at
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
said
simply
,
‘I
don’t
know
,
’
with
the
most
chilling
intonation
of
which
those
words
are
capable
.
He
then
moved
a
pace
away
,
and
sat
down
on
a
chair
close
to
Miss
Merton
.
Mrs.
Sinclair
turned
to
Leslie
,
with
a
flash
in
her
eyes
of
soft
suppressed
laughter
.
‘How
lovely
the
evening
is
!
’
murmured
Leslie
,
responding
to
the
smile
.
‘Yes
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
looking
out
dreamily
over
the
sea
,
‘it
almost
realises
one’s
idea
of
perfect
beauty.’
‘Really
,
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
’
said
Leslie
,
‘you
are
certainly
most
Hellenic
.
First
you
talk
of
Sappho
,
now
of
Ideas
of
Beauty
.
Are
you
a
Platonist
?
’
‘Mr
.
Leslie
,
of
course
I
am
,
’
said
Mrs.
Sinclair
,
somewhat
misapprehending
his
meaning
.
‘I
never
heard
such
an
impertinent
question
.
Platonism
,
however
,
is
a
very
rare
philosophy
in
these
days
,
I’m
afraid.’
‘Ah
,
and
so
you
too
think
we
are
all
of
us
very
bad
,
do
you
?
’
said
Leslie
.
‘It
may
be
so
,
of
course
;
and
yet
men
at
least
often
generalise
very
hastily
and
very
wrongly
,
I
am
sure
.
How
often
,
for
instance
,
do
we
say
that
all
wives
nowadays
are
inconstant
,
simply
because
such
are
the
only
ones
we
remember
,
not
because
they
are
the
only
ones
we
know.’
This
speech
was
quite
in
Mrs.
Sinclair’s
own
manner
,
and
she
looked
at
Leslie
with
a
smile
of
appreciation
half
humorous
and
half
sentimental
,
‘Ah
,
’
she
began
to
say
,
in
a
voice
that
had
just
a
touch
of
sadness
in
it
,
‘if
we
could
but
all
of
us
love
only
when
we
ought
,
and
where
we
ought
—
’
But
here
she
paused
.
Her
voice
died
away
,
and
she
leaned
her
head
upon
her
hand
in
silence
.
Leslie
was
going
to
have
spoken
;
but
he
was
