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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:37:41 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:37:41 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11733-0.txt b/11733-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..26d39e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/11733-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4967 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11733 *** + +A MERE ACCIDENT. + +BY + +GEORGE MOORE + +AUTHOR OF "A MUMMER'S WIFE," "A MODERN LOVER," +"A DRAMA IN MUSLIN," "SPRING DAYS," ETC. + +Fifth Edition + + + + + + + +TO + +My Friends at Buckingham. + +Nearly twenty years have gone since first we met, dear friends; time has +but strengthened our early affections, so for love token, for sign of +the years, I bring you this book--these views of your beautiful house +and hills where I have spent so many happy days, these last perhaps the +happiest of all. + +G. M. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. The grasses are lush, and the hedges are tall +and luxuriant. Restless boys scramble to and fro, quiet nursemaids +loiter, and a vagrant has sat down to rest though the bank is dripping +with autumn rain. How fair a prospect of southern England! Land of +exquisite homeliness and order; land of town that is country, of country +that is town; land of a hundred classes all deftly interwoven and all +waxing to one class--England. Land encrowned with the gifts of peaceful +days--days that live in thy face and the faces of thy children. + +See it. The outlying villas with their porches and laurels, the red +tiled farm houses, and the brown barns, clustering beneath the wings of +beautiful trees--elm trees; see the flat plots of ground of the market +gardens, with figures bending over baskets of roots; see the factory +chimney; there are trees and gables everywhere; see the end of the +terrace, the gleam of glass, the flower vase, the flitting white of the +tennis players; see the long fields with the long team ploughing, see +the parish church, see the embowering woods, see the squire's house, see +everything and love it, for everything here is England. + + * * * * * + +Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road, leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. It disappears in the woods which lean across the +fields towards the downs. The great bluff heights can be seen, and at +the point where the roads cross, where the tall trunks are listed with +golden light, stands a large wooden gate and a small box-like lodge. A +lonely place in a densely-populated county. The gatekeeper is blind, and +his flute sounds doleful and strange, and the leaves are falling. + +The private road is short and stony. Apparently space was found for it +with difficulty, and it got wedged between an enormous holly hedge and a +stiff wooden paling. But overhead the great branches fight upwards +through a tortuous growth to the sky, and, as you advance, Thornby Place +continues to puzzle you with its medley of curious and contradictory +aspects. For as the second gate, which is in iron, is approached, your +thoughts of rural things are rudely scattered by sight of what seems a +London mews. Reason with yourself. This very urban feature is occasioned +by the high brick wall which runs parallel with the stables, and this, +as you pass round to the front of the house, is hidden in the clothing +foliage of a line of evergreen oaks; continuing along the lawn, the +trees bend about the house--a wash of Naples-yellow, a few sharp Italian +lines and angles. To complete the sketch, indicate the wings of the +blown rooks on the sullen sky. + +But our purpose lies deeper than that which inspires a water-colour +sketch. We must learn when and why that house was built; we must see how +the facts reconcile its somewhat tawdry, its somewhat suburban aspect, +with the richer and more romantic aspects of the park. The park is even +now, though it be the middle of autumn, full of blowing green, and the +brown circling woods, full of England and English home life. That single +tree in the foreground is a lime; what a splendour of leafage it will be +in the summer! Those four on the right are chestnuts, and those far +away, lying between us and the imperial downs, are elms; through that +vista you can see the grand line, the abrupt hollows, and the bit of +chalk road cut zig-zag out of the steep side. Then why the anomaly of +Italian urns and pilasters; why not red Elizabethan gables and diamond +casements? + +Why not? Because at the beginning of the century, when Brighton was +being built, fragments of architectural gossip were flying about Sussex, +and one of these had found its way to, and had rested in, the heart of +the grandfather of the present owner: in a simple and bucolic way he had +been seized by a desire for taste and style, and the present building +was the result. Therefore it will be well to examine in detail the house +which young John Norton of '86 was so fond of declaring he could never +see without becoming instantly conscious of a sense of dislike, a hatred +that he was fond of describing as a sort of constitutional complaint +which he was never quite free from, and which any view of the Rockery, +or the pilasters of the French bow-window, or indeed of anything +pertaining to Thornby Place, called at once into an active existence. + +Thornby Place is but two stories high, and its spruce walls of Portland +stone and ashlar work rise sheer out of the green sward; in front, Doric +columns support a heavy entablature, and there are urns at the corners +of the building. The six windows on the ground floor are topped with +round arches, and coming up the drive the house seems a perfect square. +But this regularity of structure has on the east side been somewhat +interfered with by a projection of some thirty or forty feet--a billiard +room, in fine, which during John's minority Mrs Norton had thought +proper to add. But she had lived to rue her experiment, for to this +young man, with his fretful craving for beauty and exactness of +proportion, it is an ever present source of complaint; and he had once +in a half humorous, half serious way, gone so far as to avail himself of +the "eyesore," as he called it, to excuse his constant absence from +home, and as a pretence for shutting himself up in his dear college, +with his cherished Latin authors. It was partly for the sake of avenging +himself on his mother, whose decisive practicality jarred the delicate +music of a nature extravagantly ideal, that he so severely criticised +all that she held sacred; and his strictures fell heaviest on the bow +window, looking somewhat like a temple with its small pilasters +supporting the rich cornice from which the dwarf vaulting springs. The +loggia, he admitted, although painfully out of keeping with the +surrounding country, was not wholly wanting in design, and he admired +its columns of a Doric order, and likewise the cornice that like a crown +encompasses the house. The entrance is under the loggia; there are round +arched windows on either side, a square window under the roof, and the +hall door is in solid oak studded with ornamental nails. + +On entering you find yourself in a common white-painted passage, and on +either side of the drawing-room and dining-room are four allegorical +female heads: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Further on is the +hall, with its short polished oak stairway sloping gently to a balcony; +and there are white painted pillars that support the low roof, and these +pillars make a kind of entrance to the passage which traverses the +house from end to end. England--England clear and spotless! Nowhere do +you find a trace of dust or disorder. The arrangement of things is +somewhat mechanical. The curtains and wall-paper in the bedrooms are +suggestive of trades people and housemaids; no hastily laid aside book +or shawl breaks the excessive orderliness. Every piece of furniture is +in its appointed place, and nothing testifies to the voluntariness of +the occupant, or the impulse prompted by the need of the moment. On the +presses at the ends of the passages, where is stored the house linen, +cards are hung bearing this inscription: "When washing the woodwork the +servants are requested to use no soda without first obtaining permission +from Mrs Norton." This detail was especially distasteful to John; he +often thought of it when away, and it was one of the many irritating +impressions which went to make up the sum of his dislike of Thornby +Place. + +Mrs Norton is now crying her last orders to the servants; and although +dressed elaborately as if to receive visitors, she has not yet laid +aside her basket of keys. She is in her forty-fifth year. Her figure is +square and strong, and not devoid of matronly charm. It approves a +healthy mode of life, and her quick movements are indicative of her +sharp determined mind. Her face is somewhat small for her shoulders, the +temples are narrow and high, the nose is long and thin, the cheek bones +are prominent, the chin is small, but unsuggestive of weakness, the lips +are pinched, the complexion is flushed, and the eyes set close above the +long thin nose are an icy grey. Mrs Norton is a handsome woman. Her +fashionably-cut silk fits her perfectly; the skirt is draped with grace +and precision, and the glossy shawl with the long soft fringe is elegant +and delightfully mundane. She raises her double gold eyeglasses, and, +contracting her forehead, stares pryingly about her; and so fashionable +is she, and her modernity is so picturesque, that for a moment you think +of the entrance of a duchess in the first act of a piece by Augier +played on the stage of the Français. + +Still holding her gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she descended the +broad stairs to the hall, and from thence she went into the library. +There are two small bookcases filled with sombre volumes, and the busts +of Molière and Shakespeare attempt to justify the appellation. But there +is in the character, I was almost going to say in the atmosphere of the +room, that same undefinable, easily recognizable something which +proclaims the presence of non-readers. The traces of three or four days, +at the most a week, which John occasionally spent at Thornby Place, were +necessarily ephemeral, and the weakness of Mrs Norton's sight rendered +continuous reading impossible. Sometimes Kitty Hare brought a novel from +the circulating library to read aloud, and sometimes John forgot one of +his books, and a volume of Browning still lay on the table. The room was +filled with shadow and mournfulness, and in a dusty grate the fire +smouldered. + +Between this room and the drawing-room, in a recess formed by the bow +window, Mrs Norton kept her birds, and still peering through her +gold-rimmed glasses, she examined their seed-troughs and water-glasses, +and, having satisfied herself as to their state, she entered the +drawing-room. There is little in this room; no pictures relieve the +widths of grey colourless wall paper, and the sombre oak floor is spaced +with a few pieces of furniture--heavy furniture enshrouded in grey linen +cloths. Three French cabinets, gaudy with vile veneer and bright brass, +are nailed against the walls, and the empty room is reflected dismally +in the great gold mirror which faces the vivid green of the sward and +the duller green of the encircling elms of the park. + +Mrs Norton let her eyes wander, and sighing she went into the +dining-room. The dining-room is always the most human of rooms, and the +dining-room in Thornby Place, although allied to the other rooms in an +absence of fancy in its arrangement, shows prettily in contrast to them +with its white cloth cheerful with flowers and ferns. The floor is +covered with a tightly stretched red cloth, the chairs are set in +symmetrical rows; with the exception of a black clock there is no +ornament on the chimney-piece, and a red cloth screen conceals the door +used by the servants. + +Mrs Norton walked with her quiet decisive step to the window, and +holding the gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she looked into the +landscape as if she were expecting someone to appear. The day was grimy +with clouds; mist had risen, and it hung out of the branches of the elms +like a veil of white gauze. Withdrawing her eye from the vague prospect +before her, Mrs Norton played listlessly with the tassel of one of the +blinds. "Surely," she thought, "he cannot have been foolish enough to +have walked over the downs such a day as this;" then, raising her +glasses again she looked out at the smallest angle with the wall of the +house, so that she should get sight of a vista through which any one +coming from Shoreham would have to pass. Presently a silhouette +appeared on the sullen sky. Mrs Norton moved precipitately from the +window, and she rang the bell sharply. + +"John," she said, "Mr Hare has been going in for one of his long walks. +I see him now coming across the park. I am sure he has walked over the +downs; if so he must be wet through. Have a fire lighted in Mr Norton's +room, put up a pair of slippers for him: here is the key of Mr Norton's +wardrobe; let Mr Hare have what he wants." + +And having detached one from the many bunches which filled her basket, +she went herself to open the door to her visitor. He was however still +some distance away, and standing in the shelter of the loggia she waited +for him, watched the vague silhouette resolving itself into colour and +line. But it was not until he climbed the iron fence which separated +the park from the garden grounds that the figure grew into its +individuality. Then you saw a man of about forty, about the medium +height and inclined to stoutness. His face was round and florid, and it +was set with sandy whiskers. His white necktie proclaimed him a parson, +and the grey mud with which his boots were bespattered told of his long +walk. As is generally the case with those of his profession, he spoke +fluently, his voice was melodious, and his rapid answers and his bright +eyes saved him from appearing commonplace. In addressing Mrs Norton he +used her Christian name. + +"You are quite right, Lizzie, you are quite right; I shouldn't have done +it: had I known what a state the roads were in, I wouldn't have +attempted it." + +"What is the use of talking like that, as if you didn't know what these +roads were like! For twenty years you have been making use of them, and +if you don't know what they are like in winter by this time, all I can +say is that you never will." + +"I never saw them in the state they are now; such a slush of chalk and +clay was never seen." + +"What can you expect after a month of heavy rain? You are wringing wet." + +"Yes, I was caught in a heavy shower as I was crossing over by +Fresh-Combe-bottom. I am certainly not in a fit state to come into your +dining-room." + +"I should think not indeed! I really believe if I were to allow it, +you would sit the whole afternoon in your wet clothes. You'll find +everything ready for you in John's room. I'll give you ten minutes. I'll +tell them to bring up lunch in ten minutes. Stay, will you have a glass +of wine before going upstairs?" + +"I am afraid of spoiling your carpet." + +"Yes, indeed! not one step further! I'll fetch it for you." + +When the parson had drunk the wine, and was following the butler +upstairs, Mrs Norton returned to the dining-room with the empty glass in +her hand. She placed it on the chimney piece; she stirred the fire, and +her thoughts flowed pleasantly as she dwelt on the kindness of her old +friend. "He only got my note this morning," she mused. "I wonder if he +will be able to persuade John to return home." Mrs Norton, in her own +hard, cold way, loved her son, but in truth she thought more of the +power of which he was the representative than of the man himself: the +power to take to himself a wife--a wife who would give an heir to +Thornby Place. This was to be the achievement of Mrs Norton's life, and +the difficulties that intervened were too absorbing for her to think +much whether her son would find happiness in marriage; nor was it +natural to her to set much store on the refining charm and the uniting +influences of mental sympathies. Had she not passed the age when the +sentimental emotions are liveliest? And the fibre was wanting in her to +take into much account the whispering or the silence of passion. + +Mrs Norton saw in marriage nothing but the child, and in the child +nothing but an heir--that is to say, a male who would continue the name +and traditions of Thornby Place. This would seem to indicate a material +nature, but such a misapprehension arises from the common habit of +confusing pure thought--thought which proceeds direct from the brain +and lives uncoloured by the material wants of life--with instincts whose +complexity often causes them to appear as mental potentialities, whereas +they are but instincts, inherited promptings, and aversions more or less +modified by physical constitution and the material forces of the life in +which the constitution has grown up; and yet, though pure thought, that +is to say the power of detaching oneself from the webs of life and +viewing men and things from a height, is the rarest of gifts, many are +possessed of sufficient intellectuality to enjoy with the brain apart +from the senses. Mrs Norton was such an one. After five o'clock tea she +would ask Kitty to read to her, and drawing her shawl about her +shoulders, would readily abandon the intellectual side of her nature to +the seductive charm of the romantic story of James of Scotland; and +while to the girl the heroism and chivalry were a little clouded by the +quaint turns of Rossetti's verse, to the woman these were added +delights, which her quiet penetrating understanding followed and took +instant note of. + +"Were mother and son ever so different?" was the common remark. The +artistic was the side of Mrs Norton's character that was unaffectedly +kept out of sight, just as young John Norton was careful to hide from +public knowledge his strict business habits, and to expose, perhaps a +little ostentatiously, the spiritual impulses in which he was so deeply +concerned: the subtle refinement of sacred places, from the mystery of +the great window with its mitres and croziers to the sunlit path between +the tombs where the children play, the curious and yet natural charm +that attendance in the sacristy had for him, the arrangement of the +large oak presses, wherein are stored the fine altar linen and the +chalices, the distributing of the wine and water that were not for +bodily need, and the wearing of the flowing surplices, the murmuring of +the Latin responses that helped so wonderfully to enforce the impression +of beautiful and refined life which was his, and which he lived beyond +the gross influences of the wholly temporal life which he knew was +raging almost but not quite out of hearing. But, however marked may be +the accidental variations of character, hereditary instincts are +irresistible, and in obedience to them John neglected nothing that +concerned his pecuniary instincts. He was in daily communication with +his agent, and the financial position of every farmer, and the state of +every farm on his property, were not only known to him but were +constantly borne in mind, and influenced him in that progressive +ordering of things which marked the administration of his property. He +was furnished quarterly with an account of all monies paid, to which +were joined descriptive notes of each farm, showing what alterations the +past three months had brought, and setting forth the agricultural +intentions and abilities of the occupier. + +John Norton waited the arrival of these accounts with a keen interest: +they were a relish to his life; and without experiencing any revulsion +of feeling, he would lay down a portfolio filled with photographs of +drawings by Leonardo da Vinci--studies of drapery, studies of hands and +feet, realistic studies of thin-lipped women and ecstatic angels with +the light upon their high foreheads--and cheerfully, and even with a +sense of satisfaction, he would untie the bald, prosaic roll of paper, +and seating himself at his window overlooking the long terrace, he would +add up the figures submitted to him, detecting the smallest arithmetical +error, making note of the least delay in payment of any money due, and +questioning the slightest overpayment for work done. The morning hours +fled as he pursued his congenial task; and from time to time he would +let his thoughts wander from the teasing computation of the money that +would be required to make the repairs that a certain farmer had +demanded, to the unworldly quiet of the sacristy; he would think, and +his thoughts contained an evanescent sense of the paradox, of the altar +linen he would have to fold and put away, and of the altar breads he +would presently have to write to London for; and meanwhile his eyes +would follow in delight the black figures of the Jesuits, who, with +cassocks blowing and berrettas set firmly on their heads, walked up and +down the long gravel walks reading their breviaries. + +And living thus, half in the persuasive charm of ceremonial, half in +the hard procession of account books, the last three years of John's +life had passed. On coming of age he had spent a few weeks at Thornby +Place, but the place, and especially the country, had appeared to +him so grossly protestant--so entirely occupied with the material +well-to-doness of life--that he declared he longed to breathe again the +breath of his beloved sacristy, that he must away from that close and +oppressive atmosphere of the flesh. Since then, with the exception of a +few visits of a few days he had lived at Stanton College, writing to his +mother not of the business which concerned his property, but of mental +problems and artistic impulses. On business matters he never consulted +her; but he thought it fortunate that she should choose to spend her +jointure on Thornby Place, and so save him a great deal of expense in +keeping up the house, which, although he disliked it with a dislike that +had grown inveterate, he was still unwilling to allow to fall to ruins. + +Mrs Norton, as has been said, was capable of understanding much in the +abstract; so long as things, and ideas of things, did not come within +the circle of her practical life, they were judged from a liberal +standpoint, but so soon as they touched any personal consideration, +they were judged by a moral code that in no way corresponded to her +intellectual comprehension of the matter she so unhesitatingly +condemned. But by this it must by no means be understood that Mrs Norton +wore her conscience easily--that it was a garment that could be +shortened or lengthened to suit all weathers. Our diagnosis of Mrs +Norton's character involves no accusation of laxity of principle. Mrs +Norton was a woman with an intelligence, who had inherited in all its +primary force a code of morals that had grown up in the narrower minds +of less gifted generations. In talking to her you were conscious of two +active and opposing principles: reason and hereditary morality. I use +"opposing" as being descriptive of the state of soul that would +generally follow from such mental contradiction, but in Mrs Norton no +shocking conflict of thought was possible, her mind being always +strictly subservient to her instinctive standard of right and wrong. + +And John had inherited the moral temperament of his mother's family, and +with it his mother's intelligence, nor had the equipoise been disturbed +in the transmitting; his father's delicate constitution in inflicting +germs of disease had merely determined the variation represented by the +marked artistic impulses which John presented to the normal type of +either his father's or his mother's family. It would therefore seem that +any too sudden corrective of defect will result in anomaly, and, in +the case under notice, direct mingling of perfect health with spinal +weakness had germinated into a marked yearning for the heroic ages, for +the supernatural as contrasted with the meanness of the routine of +existence. And now before closing this psychical investigation, and +picking up the thread of the story, which will of course be no more than +an experimental demonstration of the working of the brain into which we +are looking, we must take note of two curious mental traits both living +side by side, and both apparently negative of the other's existence: an +intense and ever pulsatory horror of death, a sullen contempt and often +a ferocious hatred of life. The stress of mind engendered by the +alternating of these themes of suffering would have rendered life an +unbearable burden to John, had he not found anchorage in an invincible +belief in God, a belief which set in stormily for the pomp and opulence +of Catholic ceremonial, for the solemn Gothic arch and the jewelled joy +of painted panes, for the grace and the elegance and the order of +hieratic life. + +In a being whose soul is but the shadow of yours, a second soul looking +towards the same end as your soul, or in a being whose soul differs +radically, and is concerned with other satisfactions and other ideals, +you will most probably find some part of the happiness of your dreams, +but in intercourse with one who is grossly like you, but who is +absolutely different when the upper ways of character are taken into +account, there will be--no matter how inexorable are the ties that +bind--much fret and irritation and noisy clashing. It was so with John +Norton and his mother; even in the exercise of faculties that had been +directly transmitted from one to the other there had been angry +collision. For example:--their talents for business were identical; but +while she thought the admirable conduct of her affairs was a thing to be +proud of, he would affect an air of negligence, and would willingly +have it believed that he lived independent of such gross necessities. +Then his malady--for intense depression of the spirits was a malady with +him--offered an ever-recurring cause of misunderstanding. How irritating +it was when he lay shut up in his room, his soul looking down with +murderous eyes on the poor worm that writhed out its life in view of the +pitiless stars, and longing with a fierce wild longing to shake off the +burning garment of consciousness, and plunge into the black happiness of +the grave, to hear Mrs Norton on the threshold uttering from time to +time admonitory remarks. + +"You should not give way to such feelings, sir; you should not allow +yourself to be unhappy. Look at me, am I unhappy? and I have more to +bear with than you, but I am not always thinking of myself.... I am in +fairly good health, and I am always cheerful! Why are you not the same? +You bring it all upon yourself; I have no pity for you.... You should +cease to think of yourself, and try to do your duty." + +John groaned when he heard this last word. He knew very well what his +mother meant. He should buy three hunters, he should marry. These were +the anodynes that were offered to him in and out of season. "Bad enough +that I should exist! Why precipitate another into the gulf of being?" +"Consort with men whose ideal hovers between a stable boy and a +veterinary surgeon;" and then, amused by the paradox, John, to whom the +chase was evocative of forests, pageantry, spears, would quote some +stirring verses of an old ballad, and allude to certain pictures by +Rubens, Wouvermans, and Snyders. "Why do you talk in that way?" "Why do +you seek to make yourself ridiculous?" Mrs Norton would retort. + +Smiling just a little sorrowfully, John would withdraw, and on the +following day he would leave for Stanton College. And it was thus that +Mrs Norton's temper scarred with deep wounds a nature so pale and +delicate, so exposed that it seemed as if wanting an outer skin; and as +Thornby Place appeared to him little more than a comprehensive symbol +of what he held mean, even obscene in life, his visits had grown shorter +and fewer, until now his absence extended to the verge of the second +year, and besieged by the belief that he was contemplating priesthood, +Mrs Norton had written to her old friend, saying that she wanted to +speak to him on matters of great importance. Now maturing her plans for +getting her boy back, she stood by the bare black mantel-piece, her head +leaning on her hand. She uttered an exclamation when Mr Hare entered. + +"What," she said, "you haven't changed your things, and I told you you +would find a suit of John's clothes. I must insist--" + +"My dear Lizzie, no amount of insistance would get me into a pair of +John's trousers. I am thirteen stone and a half, and he is not much over +ten." + +"Ah! I had forgotten, but what are you to do? Something must be done, +you will catch your death of cold if you remain in your wet clothes.... +You are wringing wet." + +"No, I assure you I am not. My feet were a little wet, but I have +changed my stockings and shoes. And now, tell me, Lizzie, what there is +for lunch," he said, speaking rapidly to silence Mrs Norton, whom he saw +was going to protest again. + +"Well, you know it is difficult to get much at this season of the year. +There are some chickens and some curried rabbit, but I am afraid you +will suffer for it if you remain the whole of the afternoon in those wet +clothes; I really cannot, I will not allow it." + +"My dear Lizzie, my dear Lizzie," cried the parson, laughing all over +his rosy skinned and sandy whiskered face, "I must beg of you not +to excite yourself. I have no intention of committing any of the +imprudences you anticipate. I will trouble you for a wing of that +chicken. James, I'll take a glass of sherry,... and while I am eating it +you shall explain as succinctly as possible the matter you are minded +to consult me on, and when I have mastered the subject in all its +various details, I will advise you to the best of my power, and having +done so I will start on my walk across the hills." + +"What! you mean to say you are going to walk home?... We shall have +another downpour presently." + +"Even so. I cannot come to much harm so long as I am walking, whereas if +I drove home in your carriage I might catch a chill.... It is at least +ten miles to Shoreham by the road, while across the hills it is not more +than six." + +"Six! it is eight if it is a yard!" + +"Well, perhaps it is; but tell me, I am curious to hear what you want to +talk to me about.... Something about John, is it not?" + +"Of course it is, what else have I to think about; what else concerns +middle-aged people like you and me but our children? Of course I want to +talk to you about John. Something must be done, things cannot go on as +they are. Why, it is nearly two years since he has been home. Oh, that +boy is breaking my heart, and none suspects it. If you knew how it +annoys me when the Gardiners and the Prestons congratulate me on having +a son so well behaved. They know he looks after his property sharp +enough, no drinking, no bad company, no debts. Ah! they little know.... +I would much sooner he were wild and foolish: young men get over those +kind of faults, but he will never get over his." + +Mr Hare felt these views to be of a doubtful orthodoxy, but he did not +press his opinion, and contented himself with murmuring gently that for +the moment he did not see that John's faults were of a particularly +aggravated character. + +"You do not see that his faults should cause me any uneasiness! Perhaps +it is very lucky he is not here, or you might encourage him in them. I +suppose you think he is doing quite right in spending his life at +Stanton College, aping a priest and talking about Gothic arches. Is it a +proper thing to transact all his business through a solicitor, and +never to see his tenants? Why does he not come and live at his own +beautiful place? Why does he not take up his position in the county? He +is not a magistrate. Why does he not get married?... he is the last; +there is no one to follow him. But he never thinks of that--he is afraid +that a woman might prove a disturbing influence in his life ... he feels +that he must live in an atmosphere of higher emotions. That's the way he +talks, and he is meditating, I assure you, a book on the literature of +the Middle Ages, on the works of bishops and monks who wrote Latin in +the early centuries. His mind, he says, is full of the cadences of that +language. That's the way he writes. He never asks me about his property, +never consults me in anything. Here is a letter I received yesterday. +Listen: + + +"'The poverty of spiritual life amid the western pagans could not fail to +encourage the growth of new religious tendencies. An epoch of great +spiritual activity had been succeeded by one of complete stagnation. A +glance at the literary progress of Rome since Tiberius will show this +emancipation from national and political considerations, the influence +of cosmopolitanism gave to the best specimens of Latin prose of the +silver age such riches and variety of substance and such individuality +of expression, that Seneca and Tacitus and the letters of Pliny are +marked with many modern characteristics. Form and language appear in +these writers only as the instrument and the matter wherewith men of +genius would express their intimate personality. Here antique culture +rises above itself, but, mark you, at the expense of all that is proper +to the Roman nation. Cosmopolitan Hellenism forces and breaks down the +bars of classical traditions, and, weary of restrictions these writers +first sought personal satisfaction, and then addressed themselves to +scholars rather than the people. + +"'But Hellenism found its medium in the Greek language, rich to +satiety, and possessing a syntax of such extraordinary flexibility, that +it could follow all evolutions without being shaken in its organism. It +was in vain that the Latin literature sought to maintain its position by +harking back to the writers anterior to Cicero, those that Hellenism had +not touched, and presenting them as models of style; and thus a new +school very fain of antiquity had sprung up, with Fronto for its +acknowledged chief--a school pre-occupied above all things by the form; +obsolete words set in a new setting, modern words introduced into old +cadences to freshen them with a bright and delightful varnish, in a +word, a language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea +and evanescent music--a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency +that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays--an autumn +forest.' + +"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to +call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediaeval +Latin. And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton +College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical +cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.' +Do you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would +you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the +chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about +organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever +hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it +would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them +better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I want +you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow, or +next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must +tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year, +building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent, +but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks +he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just +fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to +distant relatives--to those terrible cousins of ours." + +"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have +not seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I +don't think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are +after his money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the +priesthood in order that they may get hold of his property." + +"No, no; you must not say such a thing. I will not have you say anything +against his religion. I was very wrong to suggest such a thing. I am +sure no such idea ever entered the Jesuits' heads. Perhaps I am wrong to +send you to them.... Now I depend on you not to speak to him on +religious subjects." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Mrs Norton had known William Hare all her life. She was the youngest +daughter, he the youngest son of equal Yorkshire families. Separated by +about a mile of pasture and woodland, these families had for generations +lived unanimous lives. In England the hunting field, the grouse moor, +the croquet and tennis lawn, with its charming adjunct the five-o'clock +tea-table, have made life in certain classes almost communal; and Mrs +Norton and William Hare had stood in white frocks under Christmas trees +and shared sweetmeats. He often thought of the first time he saw her, +wearing a skirt that fell below her ankles, with her hair done up. And +she remembered his first appearance in evening clothes, and how +surprised and delighted she was to hear him ask her if he might have the +pleasure of a waltz. + +He went to Oxford to take his degree; she was taken to London for the +season, and towards the end of the third year she married Mr Norton, and +went to live at Thornby Place. Through the excitement of the marriage +arrangements, and the rapid impressions of her honeymoon, the thought of +having for neighbour the playmate of her youth had flitted across, but +had not rested in, her mind, and she did not realize the charm that it +was for her until one afternoon, now more than twenty years ago, a young +curate, bespattered with the grey mud of the downs, had startled her and +her husband by addressing her as Lizzie. Lizzie she had remained to him, +he was William to her, and henceforth their lives had been indissolubly +linked. Not a week had passed without their seeing each other. There +were visits to pay, there was hunting, and then habit intervened; and +for many years, in suffering, in joy, in hope, their thoughts had +instinctively looked to each other for reflective sympathy, and every +remembrable event was full of mutual associations. He had sat by her +when, after the birth of her first and only child, she lay pale, +beautiful, and weak on a sofa by a window blown by the tide of summer +scent; and the autumn of that same year he had walked with her in the +garden, where the leaves fell like the last illusion of youth under the +tears of an incurable grief; and staying in their walk they looked on +the house which was to be for evermore one of widowhood. + +Had she ever loved him? Had he ever loved her? In moments of passionate +loneliness she had yearned for his protection; in moments of deep +dejection he had dreamed of the happiness he might have found with her; +but in the broad day of their lives they had ever thought of each other +as friends. He had advised her on the management of her estate, on the +education of her son; and in his afflictions--in his widowerhood--when +his children quickly followed their mother to the grave, Mrs Norton's +form, face, and words had steadied him, and had helped him to bear with +a life of crumbling ruin. Kitty was now the only one that remained to +him. + +Mrs Norton had had projects of wealth and title for her son, but his +continued disdain of women and the love of women had long since forced +her to abandon her hopes, and now any one he might select she would +gladly welcome; but she whom Mrs Norton would have preferred to all +others was the daughter of her old friend. Her son had deserted her, and +now all her affections were centred in Kitty. Kitty was as much at +Thornby Place as at the Rectory, and in the gaiety of her bright eyes, +and in the shine of her gold-brown hair--for ever slipping from the gold +hair-pins in frizzed masses--Mrs Norton continued her dreams of her +son's marriage. + +Mr Hare thought it harsh that his daughter should be so constantly taken +from him, but the parsonage was so lonely for Kitty, and there were +luncheon and tennis parties at Thornby Place, and Mrs Norton took the +girl out for drives, and together they visited all the county families. +A suspicion of matchmaking sometimes crossed Mr Hare's mind, but it +faded in the knowledge that John was always at Stanton College; and to +send this fair flower to his great--to his only--friend, was a joy, and +the bitterness of temporary loss was forgotten in the sweetness of the +sharing. He had suffered much; but these last years had been quiet, free +from despair at least, and he wished to drift a little longer with the +tide of this time. Why strive to hasten events? If this thing was to be, +it would be. So he had thought of his daughter's marriage. Fancies had +long hung about the confines of his mind, but nothing had struck him +with the full force of a thought until suddenly he understood the exact +purport of his mission to Stanton College. He leaned forward as if he +were going to tell the driver to return, but before he could do so the +lodge-keeper opened the great gate, and the hansom cab rattled under the +archway. + +Then he viewed the scheme in general outline and in remote detail. It +was very simple. Lizzie had been to Shoreham, and had taken Kitty away +with her; he had been sent to Stanton College to beg John Norton to +return to Thornby Place, and to say what he could in favour of marriage +generally. This was very compromising. He had been deceived; Lizzie had +deceived him. She had no right to do such a thing; and, striving to +determine on a line of conduct, Mr Hare examined abstractedly the place +he was passing through. + +In large and serpentine curves the road wound through a wood of small +beech trees--so small that in the November dishevelment the plantations +were like so much brushwood; and, lying behind the wind-swept opening, +gravel walks appeared in grey fragments, and the green spaces of the +cricket field with a solitary divine reading his breviary. The drive +turned and turned again in great sloping curves; more divines were +passed, and then there came a long terrace with a balustrade and a view +of the open country, now full of mist. And to see the sharp spire of +the distant church you had to look closely, and slanting slowly upwards +the great plain drew a long and melancholy line across the sky. The +lower terrace was approached by an imposing flight of steps, there were +myriads of leaves in the air, and the college bell rang in its high red +tower. + +The high red walls of the college faced the dismal terraces, and the +triple line of diamond-paned and iron-barred windows stared upon the +ugly Staffordshire landscape. A square tower squatted in the middle of +the building, and out of it rose the octagon of the bell tower, and in +the tower wall was the great oak door studded with great nails. + +"How Birmingham the whole place does look," thought Mr Hare, as he laid +his hand on an imitation mediaeval bell-pull. + +"Is Mr John Norton at home?" he asked when the servant came. "Will you +give him my card, and say that I should like to see him." + +On entering, Mr Hare found himself in a tiled hall, around which was +built a staircase in varnished oak. There was a quadrangle, and from +three sides the interminable latticed windows looked down on the green +sward; on the fourth there was an open corridor, with arches to imitate +a cloister. All was strong and barren, and only about the varnished +staircase was there any sign of comfort. There a virgin in bright blue +stood on a crescent moon; above her the ceiling was panelled in oak, and +the banisters, the cocoa nut matting, the bit of stained glass, and the +religious prints, suggested a mock air of hieratic dignity. And the room +Mr Hare was shown into continued this impression. Cabinets in carved oak +harmonised with high-backed chairs glowing with red Utrecht velvet, and +a massive table, on which lay a folio edition of St Augustine's "City of +God" and the "Epistolae Consolitoriae" of St Jerome. + +The bell continued to clang, and through the latticed windows Mr Hare +watched the divines hurrying along the windy terrace, and the tramp of +the boys going to their class-rooms could be heard in passages below. + +Then a young man entered. He was thin, and he was dressed in black. His +face was very Roman, the profile especially was what you might expect to +find on a Roman coin--a high nose, a high cheek-bone, a strong chin, and +a large ear. The eyes were prominent and luminous, and the lower part of +the face was expressive of resolution and intelligence, but above the +eyes there were many indications of cerebral distortions. The forehead +was broad, but the temples retreated rapidly to the brown hair which +grew luxuriantly on the top of the head, leaving what the phrenologists +call the bumps of ideality curiously exposed, and this, taken in +conjunction with the yearning of the large prominent eyes, suggested at +once a clear, delightful intelligence,--a mind timid, fearing, and +doubting, such a one as would seek support in mysticism and dogma, that +would rise instantly to a certain point, but to drop as suddenly as if +sickened by the too intense light of the cold, pure heaven of reason to +the gloom of the sanctuary and the consolations of Faith. Let us turn to +the mouth for a further indication of character. It was large, the lips +were thick, but without a trace of sensuality. They were dim in colour, +they were undefined in shape, they were a little meaningless--no, not +meaningless, for they confirmed the psychological revelations of the +receding temples. The hands were large, powerful, and grasping; they +were earthly hands; they were hands that could take and could hold, and +their materialism was curiously opposed to the ideality of the eyes--an +ideality that touched the confines of frenzy. The shoulders were square +and carried well back, the head was round, with close-cut hair, the +straight-falling coat was buttoned high, and the fashionable collar, +with a black satin cravat, beautifully tied and relieved with a rich +pearl pin, set another unexpected but singularly charmful detail to an +aggregate of apparently irreconcilable characteristics. + +"And how do you do, my dear Mr Hare? and who would have expected to see +you here? I am so glad to see you." + +These words were spoken frankly and cordially, and there was a note of +mundane cheerfulness in the voice which did not quite correspond with +the sacerdotal elegance of this young man. Then he added quickly, as if +to save himself from asking the reason of this very unexpected visit-- + +"But you have never been here before; this is the first time you have +seen our college. And seeing it as it now is, you would not believe all +the delightful detail that a ray of sunlight awakens in that hideous +brown monotony, soaked with rain and bedimmed with mist." + +"Yes, I can quite understand that the college is not looking its best on +a day like this. We have had very wet weather lately." + +"No doubt, and I am afraid these late rains have interfered with the +harvest. The accounts from the North are very alarming, but in Sussex, I +suppose, everything was over at least two months ago. Still even there +the farmers have been losing money for some time back. I have had to +make some very heavy reductions. Pearson declared he could not possibly +continue at the present rent with corn as low as eight pounds a load. +This is very serious, but it is very difficult to arrive at the truth. I +want to talk to you; but we shall have plenty of time presently; you'll +stay and dine? And I'll show you over the college: you have never been +here before, and now I come to reckon it up, I find I have not seen you +for nearly five years." + +"It must be very nearly that; I missed you the last time you were at +Thornby Place, and that was three years ago." + +"Three years! It sounds very shocking, doesn't it? to have a beautiful +place in Sussex and not to live there: to prefer an ugly red-brick +college--Birmingham Tudor; my mother invented the expression. When she +is in a passion she hits on the very happiest concurrence of words; and +I must say she is right,--the architecture here is appallingly ugly; +and I don't think anything could be done to improve it, do you?" + +"I can't say that I can suggest anything for the moment, but I thought +it was for the sake of the architecture, which I frankly confess I don't +in the least admire, that you lived here." + +"You thought it was for the sake of the architecture...." + +"Then why do you not come home and spend Christmas with your mother!" + +"Christmas! Well, I suppose I ought to. But it will be hard to bear with +the plain Protestantism, the smug materialism of Sussex at such a +season; and when one thinks what the day is commemorative of--" + +"You surely do not mean that you would prefer to see the people +starving? If your dislike of Protestantism rests only on roast beef and +plum pudding...." + +"No, you don't understand. But I beg your pardon--I had really +forgotten...." + +"Never mind," said Mr Hare smiling; "continue: we were talking of roast +beef and plum pudding--" + +"Well, roast beef and plum pudding, say what you like, is a very +complete figuration of the Protestant ideal. Now let us think of +Sussex.... The villas with their gables, and railings, and laurels, the +snug farm-houses, the market-gardening, but especially the villas, so +representative of a sleepy smug materialism.... Oh, it is horrible; I +cannot think of Sussex without a revulsion of feeling. Sussex is utterly +opposed to the monastic spirit. Why, even the downs are easy, yes, easy +as one of the upholsterer's armchairs of the villa residences. And the +aspect of the county tallies exactly with the state of soul of its +people. In that southern county all is soft and lascivious; there is no +wildness, none of that scenical grandeur which we find in Scotland and +Ireland, and which is emblematic of the yearning of man's soul for +something higher than this mean and temporal life." + +There was rapture in John's eyes. With a quick movement of his hands he +seemed to spurn the entire materialism of Sussex. After a pause, he +continued: + +"There is no asceticism in Sussex, there is no yearning for anything +higher or better. You--yes, you and the whole place are, in every sense +of the word, Conservative--that is to say, brutally satisfied with the +present ordering of things." + +"Now, now, my dear John, by your own account Pearson is not by any means +so satisfied with the present condition of things as you yourself would +wish him to be." + +John laughed loudly, and it was clear that the paradox in no way +displeased him. + +"But we were speaking," he continued, "not of temporal, but of spiritual +pains and penalties. Now, anyone who did not know me--and none will ever +know me--would think that I had not a care in the world. Well, I have +suffered as horribly, I have been tortured as cruelly, as ever poor +mortal was.... I have lain on the floor of my room, my heart dead +within me, and moaned and shrieked with horror." + +"Horror of what?" + +"Horror of death and a worse horror of life. Few amongst men ever +realise the truth of things, but there are rare occasions, moments of +supernatural understanding or suffering (which are two words for one and +the same thing), when we see life in all its worm-like meanness, and +death in its plain, stupid loathsomeness. Two days out of this year live +like fire in my mind. I went to my uncle Richard's funeral. There was +cold meat and sherry on the table; a dreadful servant asked me if I +would go up to the corpse-room. (Mark the expression.) I went. It lay +swollen and featureless, and two busy hags lifted it up and packed it +tight with wisps of hay, and mechanically uttered shrieks and moans. + +"But, though the funeral was painfully obscene, it was not so obscene as +the view of life I was treated to last week.... + +"Last week I was in London; I went to a place they call the 'Colonies.' +Till then I had never realised the foulness of the human animal, but +there even his foulness was overshadowed by his stupidity. The masses, +yes, I saw the masses, and I fed with them in their huge intellectual +stye. The air was filled with lines of the most inconceivable flags, +lines upon lines of pale yellow, and there were glass cases filled with +pickle bottles, and there were piles of ropes and a machine in motion, +and in nooks there were some dreadful lay figures, and written +underneath them, 'Indian corn-seller,' 'Indian fish-seller.' And there +was the Prince of Wales on horseback, three times larger than life; and +there were stuffed deer upon a rock, and a Polar bear, and the Marquis +of Lome underneath. In another room there were Indian houses, things in +carved wood, and over each large placards announcing the popular dinner, +the _buffet_, the _table d'hôte_, at half-a-crown; and there were oceans +of tea, and thousands of rolls of butter, and in the gardens the band +played 'Thine alone' and 'Mine again.' + +"It seemed as if all the back-kitchens and staircases in England had +that day been emptied out--life-tattered housewives, girls grown stout +on porter, pretty-faced babies, heavy-handed fathers, whistling boys in +their sloppy clothes, and attitudes curiously evidencing an odious +domesticity.... + +"In the Greek and Roman life there was an ideal, and there was a great +ideal in the monastic life of the Middle Ages; but an ideal is wholly +wanting in nineteenth century life. I am not of these later days. I am +striving to come to terms with life." + +"And you think you can do that best by folding vestments and reviling +humanity. I do not see how you reconcile these opinions with the +teaching of Christ--with the life of Christ." + +"Oh, of course, if you are going to use those arguments against me, I +have done; I can say no more." + +Mr Hare did not answer, and at the end of a long silence John said: + +"But, what do you say, supposing I show you over the college now, and +when that's done you will come up to my room and we'll have a smoke +before dinner?" + +Mr Hare raised no objection, and the two men descended the staircase +into the long stony corridor. The quadrangle filled the diamond panes +of the latticed windows with green, and the divine walking to and fro +was a spot of black. There were pictures along the walls of the +corridor--pictures of upturned faces and clasped hands--and these drew +words of commiseration for the artistic ignorance of the College +authorities from John's lips. + +"And they actually believe that that dreadful monk with the skull is a +real Ribera.... The chapel is on the right, the refectory on the left. +Come, let us see the chapel; I am anxious to hear what you think of my +window." + +"It ought to be very handsome; it cost five hundred, did it not?" + +"No, not quite so much as that," John answered abruptly; and then, +passing through the communion rails, they stood under the multi-coloured +glory of three bishops. Mr Hare felt that a good deal of rapture was +expected of him; but in his efforts to praise, he felt he was exposing +his ignorance. John called attention to the transparency of the +green-watered skies; and turning their backs on the bishops, the blue +ceiling with the gold stars was declared, all things considered, to be +in excellent taste. The benches in the body of the church were for boys; +the carved chairs set along both walls between the communion rails and +the first steps of the altar were for the divines. The president and +vice-president knelt facing each other. The priests, deacons, and +sub-deacons followed according to their rank. There were slenderer +benches, and these were for the choir; and from a music-book placed on +wings of the great golden eagle, the leader conducted the singing. + +The side altar, with the rich Turkey carpet spread over the steps, was +St George's, and further on, in an addition made lately, there were two +more altars, dedicated respectively to the Virgin and St Joseph. + +"The maid-servants kneel in that corner. I have often suggested +that they should be moved out of sight. You do not understand me. +Protestantism has always been more reconciled to the presence of women +in sacred places than we. We would wish them beyond the precincts. And +it is easy to imagine how the unspeakable feminality of those +maid-servants jars a beautiful impression--the altar towering white with +wax candles, the benedictive odour of incense, the richness of the +vestments, treble voices of boys floating, and the sweetness of a long +day spent about the sanctuary with flowers and chalices in my hands, +fade in a sense of sullen disgust, in a revulsion of feeling which I +will not attempt to justify." + +Then his thoughts, straying back to sudden recollections of monastic +usages and habits, he said: + +"I should like to scourge them out of this place." And then, half +playfully, half seriously, and wholly conscious of the grotesqueness, +he added: + +"Yes, I am not at all sure that a good whipping would not do them good. +They should be well whipped. I believe that there is much to be said in +favour of whipping." + +Mr Hare did not answer. He listened like one in a dark and unknown +place. But, as if unconscious of the embarrassment he was creating, John +told of the number of masses that were said daily, and of the eagerness +shown by the boys to obtain an altar. Altar service was rewarded by a +large piece of toast for breakfast. Handsome lads of sixteen were chosen +for acolytes, the torch-bearers were selected from the smallest boys, +the office of censer was filled by John Norton, and he was also the +chief sacristan, and had charge of the altar plate and linen and the +vestments. He spoke of the organ, and he depreciated the present +instrument, and enlarged upon some technical details anent the latest +modern improvements in keys and stops. + +They went up to the organ loft. John would play his setting of St +Ambrose's hymn, "Veni redemptor gentium," if Mr Hare would go to the +bellows, and feeling as if he were being turned into ridicule, Mr Hare +took his place at the handle; and he found it even more embarrassing +to give an opinion on the religiosity of the music, than on the +archaeological colouration of the bishops in the window. But John did +not court any very detailed criticism on his hymn, and alluding to the +fact that even in the fourth century accent was beginning to replace +quantity, he led the way to the sacristy. + +And it was impossible to avoid noticing that the opening of the carved +oaken presses, smelling sweet and benignly of orris root and lavender, +acted on John almost as a physical pleasure, and also that his hands +seemed nervous with delight as he unfolded the jewelled embroideries, +and smoothed out the fine linen of the under vestments; and his voice, +too, seemed to gain a sharp tenderness and emotive force, as he told how +these were the gold vestments worn by the bishop, and only on certain +great feast-days, and that these were the white vestments worn on days +especially commemorative of the Virgin. The consideration of the +censers, candlesticks, chalices, and albs took some time, and John was a +little aggressive in his explanation of Catholic ceremonial, and its +grace and comeliness compared with the stiffness and materialism of the +Protestant service. + +From the sacristy they went to the boys' library. John pointed out the +excellent supply of light literature that the bookcases contained. + +"We take travels, history, fairy-tales--romances of all kinds, so long +as sensual passion is not touched upon at any length. Of course we +don't object to a book in which just towards the end the young man falls +in love and proposes; but there must not be much of that sort of thing. +Here are Robert Louis Stevenson's works, 'Treasure Island,' 'Kidnapped,' +&c., charming writer--a neat pretty style, with a pleasant souvenir of +Edgar Poe running through it all. You have no idea how the boys enjoy +his books." + +"And don't you?" + +"Oh no; I have just glanced at him: for my own reading, I can admit none +who does not write in the first instance for scholars, and then to the +scholarly instincts in readers generally. Here is Walter Pater. We have +his Renaissance; studies in art and poetry--I gave it myself to the +library. We were so sorry we could not include that most beautiful book, +'Marius the Epicurean.' We have some young men here of twenty and three +and twenty, and it would be delightful to see them reading it, so +exquisite is its hopeful idealism; but we were obliged to bar it on +account of the story of Psyche, sweetly though it be told, and sweetly +though it be removed from any taint of realistic suggestion. Do you know +the book?" + +"I can't say I do." + +"Then read it at once. It is a breath of delicious fragrance blown back +to us from the antique world; nothing is lost or faded, the bloom of +that glad bright world is upon every page; the wide temples, the lustral +water--the youths apportioned out for divine service, and already happy +with a sense of dedication, the altars gay with garlands of wool and the +more sumptuous sort of flowers, the colour of the open air, with the +scent of the beanfields, mingling with the cloud of incense." + +"But I thought you denied any value to the external world, that the +spirit alone was worth considering." + +"The antique world knew how to idealise, and if they delighted in the +outward form, they did not leave it gross and vile as we do when we +touch it; they raised it, they invested it with a sense of aloofness +that we know not of. Flesh or spirit, idealise one or both, and I will +accept them. But you do not know the book. You must read it. Never did I +read with such rapture of being, of growing to spiritual birth. It +seemed to me that for the first time I was made known to myself; for the +first time the false veil of my grosser nature was withdrawn, and I +looked into the true ethereal eyes, pale as wan water and sunset skies, +of my higher self. Marius was to me an awakening; the rapture of +knowledge came upon me that even our temporal life might be beautiful; +that, in a word, it was possible to somehow come to terms with life.... +You must read it. For instance, can anyone conceive anything more +perfectly beautiful than the death of Flavian, and all that youthful +companionship, and Marius' admiration for his friend's poetry?... that +delightful language of the third century--a new Latin, a season of +dependency, an Indian summer full of strange and varied cadences, so +different from the monotonous sing-song of the Augustan age; the school +of which Fronto was the head. Indeed, it was Pater's book that first +suggested to me the idea of the book I am writing. But perhaps you do +not know I am writing a book.... Did my mother tell you anything about +it?" + +"Yes; she told me you were writing the history of Christian Latin." + +"Yes; that is to say, of the language that was the literary, the +scientific, and the theological language of Europe for more than a +thousand years." + +And talking of his book rapidly, and with much boyish enthusiasm, John +opened the doors of the refectory. The long, oaken tables, the great +fireplace, and the stained glass seemed to delight him, and he alluded +to the art classes of monastic life. The class-rooms were peeped into, +the playground was viewed through the lattice windows, and they went to +John's room, up a staircase curiously carpeted with lead. + +John's rooms! a wide, bright space of green painted wood and straw +matting. The walls were panelled from floor to ceiling. In the centre of +the floor there was an oak table--a table made of sharp slabs of oak +laid upon a frame that was evidently of ancient design, probably early +German, a great, gold screen sheltered a high canonical chair with +elaborate carvings, and on a reading-stand close by lay the manuscript +of a Latin poem. + +"And what is this?" said Mr Hare. + +"Oh! that is a poem by Milo, his 'De Sobricate.' I heard that the +manuscript was still preserved in the convent of Saint Amand, near +Tournai, and I sent and had a copy made for me. That was the simplest +way. You have no idea how difficult it is to buy the works of any Latin +authors except those of the Augustan age. Milo was a monk, and he lived +in the eighth century. He was a man of very considerable attainments, +if he were not a very great poet. He was a contemporary of Floras, who, +by the way, was a real poet. Some of his verses are delightful, full of +delicate cadence and colour. The MS. under your hand is a poem by him-- + + "'Montes et colles, silvaeque et flumina, fontes, + Praeruptaeque rupes, pariter vallesque profondae + Francorum lugete genus: quod munere christi, + Imperio celsum jacet ecce in pulvere mersum.' + +"That was written in the eighth century when the language was becoming +terribly corrupt; when it was hideous with popular idiom barbarously and +recklessly employed. But even in that time of autumnal decay and pallid +bloom, a real poet such as Walahfrid Strabat could weave a garland of +grace and beauty; one, indeed, that lived through the chance of +centuries in the minds of men. It found numberless imitators and favour +even with the Humanists, and it was reprinted eight times in the +seventeenth century. This poem is of especial interest to me on account +of the illustration it affords of a theory of my own concerning the +unconsciousness of the true artist. For breaking away from the literary +habitudes of his time, which were to do the gospels or the life of +a favourite saint into hexameters, he wrote a poem, 'Hortulus,' +descriptive of the garden of the monastery. The garden was all the world +to the monks; it furnished them at once with the pleasures and the +necessaries of their lives. Walahfrid felt this; he described his +feelings, and he produced a chef d'oeuvre." Going over to the bookcase, +John took down a volume. He read:-- + + "'Hoc nemus umbriferum pingit viridissima Rutae + Silvula coeruleae, foliis quae praedita parvis, + Umbellas jaculata brevis, spiramina venti + Et radios Phoebi caules transmittit ad imos, + Attactuque graves leni dispergit odores, + Haec cum multiplici vigeat virtute medelae, + Dicitur occultis apprime obstare venenis, + Toxicaque invasis incommoda pellere fibris.' + +"Now, can anything be more charming? True it is that pingit in the first +line does not seem to construe satisfactorily, and I am not certain that +the poet may not have written _fingit_. Fingit would not be pure Latin, +but that is beside the question." + +"Indeed it is. I must say I prefer the Georgics. I have known many +strange tastes, but your fancy for bad Latin is the strangest of all." + +"Classical Latin, with the exception of Tacitus, is cold-blooded and +self-satisfied. There is no agitation, no fever; to me it is utterly +without interest." + +To the books and manuscripts the pictures on the walls afforded an +abrupt contrast. No. 1. "A Japanese Girl," by Monet. A poppy in the pale +green walls; a wonderful macaw! Why does it not speak in strange +dialect? It trails lengths of red silk. Such red! The pigment is twirled +and heaped with quaint device, until it seems to be beautiful embroidery +rather than painting; and the straw-coloured hair, and the blond light +on the face, and the unimaginable coquetting of that fan.... + +No. 2. "The Drop Curtain," by Degas. The drop curtain is fast +descending; only a yard of space remains. What a yardful of curious +comment, what satirical note on the preposterousness of human +existence! what life there is in every line; and the painter has made +meaning with every blot of colour! Look at the two principal dancers! +They are down on their knees, arms raised, bosoms advanced, skirts +extended, a hundred coryphées are clustered about them. Leaning hands, +uplifted necks, painted eyes, scarlet mouths, a piece of thigh, arched +insteps, and all is blurred; vanity, animalism, indecency, absurdity, +and all to be whelmed into oblivion in a moment. Wonderful life; +wonderful Degas! + +No. 3. "A Suburb," by Monet. Snow! the world is white. The furry fluff +has ceased to fall, and the sky is darkling and the night advances, +dragging the horizon up with it like a heavy, deadly curtain. But the +roof of the villa is white, and the green of the laurels shaken free of +the snow shines through the railings, and the shadows that lie across +the road leading to town are blue--yes, as blue as the slates under the +immaculate snow. + +No. 4. "The Cliff's Edge," by Monet. Blue? purple the sea is; no, it is +violet; 'tis striped with violet and flooded with purple; there are +living greens, it is full of fading blues. The dazzling sky deepens as +it rises to breathless azure, and the soul pines for and is fain of God. +White sails show aloft; a line of dissolving horizon; a fragment of +overhanging cliff wild with coarse grass and bright with poppies, and +musical with the lapsing of the summer waves. + +There were in all six pictures--a tall glass filled with pale roses, by +Renoir; a girl tying up her garter, by Monet. + +Through the bedroom door Mr Hare saw a narrow iron bed, an iron +washhand-stand, and a prie-dieu. A curious three-cornered wardrobe stood +in one corner, and facing it, in front of the prie-dieu, a life-size +Christ hung with outstretched arms. The parson looked round for a seat, +but the chairs were like cottage stools on high legs, and the angular +backs looked terribly knife-like. + +"Sit in the arm-chair. Shall I get you a pillow from the next room? +Personally I cannot bear upholstery; I cannot conceive anything more +hideous than a padded arm-chair. All design is lost in that infamous +stuffing. Stuffing is a vicious excuse for the absence of design. If +upholstery was forbidden by law to-morrow, in ten years we should have +a school of design. Then the necessity of composition would be +imperative." + +"I daresay there is a good deal in what you say; but tell me, don't you +find these chairs very uncomfortable. Don't you think that you would +find a good comfortable arm-chair very useful for reading purposes?" + +"No, I should feel far more uncomfortable on a cushion than I do on this +bit of hard oak. Our ancestors had an innate sense of form that we have +not. Look at these chairs, nothing can be plainer; a cottage stool is +hardly more simple, and yet they are not offensive to the eye. I had +them made from a picture by Albert Durer. But tell me, what will you +take to drink? Will you have a glass of champagne, or a brandy and +soda, or what do you say to an absinthe?" + +"'Pon my word, you seem to look after yourself. You don't forget the +inner man." + +"I always keep a good supply of liquor; have a cigar?" And John passed +to him a box of fragrant and richly coloured Havanas.... Mr Hare took a +cigar, and glanced at the table on which John was mixing the drinks. It +was a slip of marble, rested, café fashion, on iron supports. + +"But that table is modern, surely?--quite modern!" + +"Quite; it is a café table, but it does not offend my eye. You surely +would not have me collect a lot of old-fashioned furniture and pile it +up in my rooms, Turkey carpets and Japaneseries of all sorts; a room +such as Sir Fred. Leighton would declare was intended to be merely +beautiful." + +Striving vainly to understand, Mr Hare drank his brandy and soda in +silence. Presently he walked over to the bookcases. There were two: one +was filled with learned-looking volumes bearing the names of Latin +authors; and the parson, who prided himself on his Latinity, was +surprised, and a little nettled, to find so much ignorance proved upon +him. With Tertullian, St Jerome, and St Augustine he was of course +acquainted, but of Lactantius, Prudentius, Sedulius, St Fortunatus, Duns +Scotus, Hibernicus exul, Angilbert, Milo, &c., he was obliged to admit +he knew nothing--even the names were unknown to him. + +In the bookcase on the opposite side of the room there were complete +editions of Landor and Swift, then came two large volumes on Leonardo da +Vinci. Raising his eyes, the parson read through the titles of Mr +Browning's work. Tennyson was in a cheap seven-and-six edition; then +came Swinburne, Pater, Rossetti, Morris, two novels by Rhoda Broughton, +Dickens, Thackeray, Fielding, and Smollett; the complete works of +Balzac, Gautier's Emaux et Camées, Salammbo, L'Assommoir; add to this +Carlyle, Byron, Shelley, Keats, &c. + +At the end of a long silence, Mr Hare said, glancing once again at the +Latin authors, and walking towards the fire: + +"Tell me, John, are those the books you are writing about? Supposing you +explain to me in a few words the line you are taking. Your mother tells +me that you intend to call your book the History of Christian Latin." + +"Yes, I had thought of using that title, but I am afraid it is a little +too ambitious. To write the history of a literature extending over at +least eight centuries would entail an appalling amount of reading; and +besides only a few, say a couple of dozen writers out of some hundreds, +are of the slightest literary interest, and very few indeed of any real +aesthetic value. I have been hard at work lately, and I think I know +enough of the literature of the Middle Ages to enable me to make a +selection that will comprise everything of interest to ordinary +scholarship, and enough to form a sound basis to rest my own literary +theories upon. I begin by stating that there existed in the Middle Ages +a universal language such as Goethe predicted the future would again +bring to us.... + +"Before the formation of the limbs, that is to say before the German and +Roman languages were developed up to the point of literary usage, the +Latin language was the language of all nations of the western world. +But the day came, in some countries a little earlier, in some a little +later, when it was replaced by the national idioms. The different +literatures of the West had therefore been preceded by a Latin +literature that had for a long time held out a supporting hand to each. +The language of this literature was not a dead language, It was the +language of government, of science, of religion; and a little +dislocated, a little barbarised, it had penetrated to the minds of the +people, and found expression in drinking songs and street ditties. + +"Such is the theme of my book; and it seems to me that a language that +has played so important a part in the world's history is well worthy of +serious study. + +"I show how Christianity, coming as it did with a new philosophy, and a +new motive for life, invigorated and saved the Latin language in a time +of decline and decrepitude. For centuries it had given expression, even +to satiety, to a naive joy in the present; on this theme, all that +could be said had been said, all that could be sung had been sung, +and the Rhetoricians were at work with alliteration and refrain when +Christianity came, and impetuously forced the language to speak the +desire of the soul. In a word, I want to trace the effect that such a +radical alteration in the music, if I may so speak, had upon the +instrument--the Latin language." + +"And with whom do you begin?" + +"With Tertullian, of course." + +"And what do you think of him?" + +"Tertullian, one of the most fascinating characters of ancient or modern +times. In my study of his writings I have worked out a psychological +study of the man himself as revealed through them. His realism, I might +say materialism, is entirely foreign to my own nature, but I cannot +help being attracted by that wild African spirit, so full of savage +contradictions, so full of energy that it never knew repose: in him you +find all the imperialism of ancient times. When you consider that he +lived in a time when the church was struggling for utterance amid the +horrors of persecution, his mad Christianity becomes singularly +attractive; a passionate fear of beauty for reason of its temptations, a +fear that turned to hatred, and forced him at last into the belief that +Christ was an ugly man." + +"I know nothing of the monks of the eighth century and their poetry, +but I do know something of Tertullian, and you mean to tell me that +you admire his style--those harsh chopped-up phrases and strained +antitheses." + +"I should think I did. Phrases set boldly one against the other; quaint, +curious, and full of colour, the reader supplies with delight the +connecting link, though the passion and the force of the description +lives and reels along. Listen: + +"'Quae tunc spectaculi latitudo! quid admirer? quid rideam? ubi gaudeam? +ubi exultem, spectans tot ac tantos reges, qui in coelum recepti +nuntiabantur, cum ipso Jove et ipsis suis testibus in imis tenebris +congemiscentes!--Tunc magis tragoedi audiendi, magis scilicet vocales in +sua propria calamitate; tunc histriones cognoscendi, solutiores multo +per ignem; tunc spectandus auriga, in flammea rota totus rubens, &c.' + +"Show me a passage in Livy equal to that for sheer force and glittering +colour. The phrases are not all dove-tailed one into the other and +smoothed away; they stand out." + +"Indeed they do. And whom do you speak of next?" + +"I pass on to St Cyprian and Lactantius; to the latter I attribute the +beautiful poem of the Phoenix." + +"What! Claudian's poem?" + +"No, but one infinitely superior. After Lactantius comes St Ambrose, St +Jerome, and St Augustine. The second does not interest me, and my notice +of him is brief; but I make special studies of the first and last. It +was St Ambrose who introduced singing into the Catholic service. He took +the idea from the Arians. He saw the effect it had upon the vulgar mind, +and he resolved to combat the heresy with its own weapons. He composed a +vast number of hymns. Only four have come down to us, and they are as +perfect in form as in matter. You will scarcely find anywhere a false +quantity or a hiatus. The Ambrosian hymns remained the type of all the +hymnic poetry of succeeding centuries. Even Prudentius, great poet as he +was, was manifestly influenced in the choice of metre and the +composition of the strophe by the Deus Creator omnium.... + +"St Ambrose did more than any other writer of his time to establish +certain latent tendencies as characteristics of the Catholic spirit. +His pleading in favour of ascetic life and of virginity, that entirely +Christian virtue, was very influential. He lauds the virgin above the +wife, and, indeed, he goes so far as to tell parents that they can +obtain pardon of their sins by offering their daughters to God. His +teaching in this respect was productive of very serious rebellion +against what some are pleased to term the laws of Nature. But St Ambrose +did not hesitate to uphold the repugnance of girls to marriage as not +only lawful but praiseworthy." + +"I am afraid you let your thoughts dwell very much on such subjects." + +"Really, do you think I do?" John's eyes brightened for a moment, and he +lapsed into what seemed an examination of conscience. Then he said, +somewhat abruptly, "St Jerome I speak of, or rather I allude to him, and +pass on at once to the study of St Augustine--the great prose writer, as +Prudentius was the great poet, of the Middle Ages. + +"Now, talking of style, I will admit that the eternal apostrophising of +God and the incessant quoting from the New Testament is tiresome to the +last degree, and seriously prejudices the value of the 'Confessions' as +considered from the artistic standpoint. But when he bemoans the loss of +the friend of his youth, when he tells of his resolution to embrace an +ascetic life, he is nervously animated, and is as psychologically +dramatic as Balzac." + +"I have taken great pains with my study of St Augustine, because in him +the special genius of Christianity for the first time found a voice. All +that had gone before was a scanty flowerage--he was the perfect fruit. I +am speaking from a purely artistic standpoint: all that could be done +for the life of the senses had been done, but heretofore the life of the +soul had been lived in silence--none had come to speak of its suffering, +its uses, its tribulation. In the time of Horace it was enough to sit in +Lalage's bower and weave roses; of the communion of souls none had ever +thought. Let us speak of the soul! This is the great dividing line +between the pagan and Christian world, and St Augustine is the great +landmark. In literature he discovered that man had a soul, and that man +had grown interested in its story, had grown tired of the exquisite +externality of the nymph-haunted forest and the waves where the Triton +blows his plaintive blast. + +"The whole theory and practice of modern literature is found in the +'Confessions of St Augustine;' and from hence flows the great current of +psychological analysis which, with the development of the modern novel, +grows daily greater in volume and more penetrating in essence.... Is not +the fretful desire of the Balzac novel to tell of the soul's anguish an +obvious development of the 'Confessions'?" + +"In like manner I trace the origin of the ballad, most particularly the +English ballad, to Prudentius, a contemporary of Claudian." + +"You don't mean to say that you trace back our north-country ballads +to, what do you call him?" + +"Prudentius. I show that there is much in his hymns that recalls the +English ballads." + +"In his hymns?" + +"Yes; in the poems that come under such denomination. I confess it is +not a little puzzling to find a narrative poem of some five hundred +lines or more included under the heading of hymns; it would seem that +nearly all lyric poetry of an essentially Christian character was so +designated, to separate it from secular or pagan poetry. In Prudentius' +first published work, 'Liber Cathemerinon,' we find hymns composed +absolutely after the manner of St Ambrose, in the same or in similar +metres, but with this difference, the hymns of Prudentius are three, +four, and sometimes seven times longer than those of St Ambrose. The +Spanish poet did not consider, or he lost sight of, the practical usages +of poetry. He sang more from an artistic than a religious impulse. That +he delighted in the song for the song's own sake is manifest; and this +is shown in the variety of his treatment, and the delicate sense of +music which determined his choice of metre. His descriptive writing is +full of picturesque expression. The fifth hymn, 'Ad Incensum Lucernae,' +is glorious with passionate colour and felicitous cadence, be he +describing with precious solicitude for Christian archaeology the +different means of artistic lighting, flambeaux, candles, lamps, or +dreaming with all the rapture of a southern dream of the balmy garden +of Paradise. + +"But his best book to my thinking is by far, 'Peristephanon,' that is +to say, the hymns celebrating the glory of the martyrs. + +"I was saying just now that the hymns of Prudentius, by the dramatic +rapidity of the narrative, by the composition of the strophe, and by +their wit, remind me very forcibly of our English ballads. Let us take +the story of St Laurence, written in iambics, in verses of four lines +each. In the time of the persecutions of Valerian, the Roman prefect, +devoured by greed, summoned St Laurence, the treasurer of the church, +before him, and on the plea that parents were making away with their +fortunes to the detriment of their children, demanded that the sacred +vessels should be given up to him. 'Upon all coins is found the head of +the Emperor and not that of Christ, therefore obey the order of the +latter, and give to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor.' + +"To this speech, peppered with irony and sarcasm, St Laurence replies +that the church is very rich, even richer than the Emperor, and that he +will have much pleasure in offering its wealth to the prefect, and he +asks for three days to classify the treasures. Transported with joy, the +prefect grants the required delay. Laurence collects the infirm who have +been receiving charity from the church; and in picturesque grouping the +poet shows us the blind, the paralytic, the lame, the lepers, advancing +with trembling and hesitating steps. Those are the treasures, the +golden vases and so forth, that the saint has catalogued and is going to +exhibit to the prefect, who is waiting in the sanctuary. The prefect is +dumb with rage; the saint observes that gold is found in dross; that the +disease of the body is to be less feared than that of the soul; and he +developes this idea with a good deal of wit. The boasters suffer from +dropsy, the miser from cramp in the wrist, the ambitious from febrile +heat, the gossipers, who delight in tale-bearing, from the itch; but +you, he says, addressing the prefect, you who govern Rome,[1] suffer +from the _morbus regius_ (you see the pun). In revenge for thus +slighting his dignity, the prefect condemns St Laurence to be roasted on +a slow fire, adding, 'and deny there, if you will, the existence of my +Vulcan.' Even on the gridiron Laurence does not lose his good humour, +and he gets himself turned as a cook would a chop. + +"Now, do you not understand what I mean when I say that the hymns of +Prudentius are an anticipation of the form of the English ballad?... And +in the fifth hymn the story of St Vincent is given with that peculiar +dramatic terseness that you find nowhere except in the English ballad. +But the most beautiful poem of all is certainly the fourteenth and last +hymn. In a hundred and thirty-three hendecasyllabic verses the story of +a young virgin condemned to a house of ill-fame is sung with exquisite +sense of grace and melody. She is exposed naked at the corner of a +street. The crowd piously turns away; only one young man looks upon her +with lust in his heart. He is instantly struck blind by lightning, but +at the request of the virgin his sight is restored to him. Then follows +the account of how she suffered martyrdom by the sword--a martyrdom +which the girl salutes with a transport of joy. The poet describes her +ascending to Heaven, and casting one last look upon this miserable +earth, whose miseries seem without end, and whose joys are of such short +duration. + +"Then his great poem 'Psychomachia' is the first example in mediaeval +literature of allegorical poetry, the most Christian of all forms of +art. + +"Faith, her shoulders bare, her hair free, advances, eager for the +fight. The 'cult of the ancient gods,' with forehead chapleted after the +fashion of the pagan priests, dares to attack her, and is overthrown. +The legion of martyrs that Faith has called together cry in triumphant +unison.... Modesty (Pudicitia), a young virgin with brilliant arms, is +attacked by 'the most horrible of the Furies' (Sodomita Libido), who, +with a torch burning with pitch and sulphur, seeks to strike her eyes, +but Modesty disarms him and pierces him with her sword. 'Since the +Virgin without stain gave birth to the Man-God, Lust is without rights +in the world.' Patience watches the fight; she is presently attacked +by Anger, first with violent words, and then with darts, which fall +harmlessly from her armour. Accompanied by Job, Patience retires +triumphant. But at that moment, mounted on a wild and unbridled steed, +and covered with a lionskin, Pride (Superbia), her hair built up like a +tower, menaces Humility (Mens humilis). Under the banner of Humility are +ranged Justice, Frugality, Modesty, pale of face, and likewise +Simplicity. Pride mocks at this miserable army, and would crush it under +the feet of her steed. But she falls in a ditch dug by Fraud. Humility +hesitates to take advantage of her victory; but Hope draws her sword, +cuts off the head of the enemy, and flies away on golden wings to +Heaven. + +"Then Lust (Luxuria), the new enemy, appears. She comes from the extreme +East, this wild dancer, with odorous hair, provocative glance and +effeminate voice; she stands in a magnificent chariot drawn by four +horses; she scatters violet and rose leaves; they are her weapons; their +insidious perfumes destroy courage and will, and the army, headed by the +virtues, speaks of surrender. But suddenly Sobriety (Sobrietas) lifts +the standard of the Cross towards the sky. Lust falls from her chariot, +and Sobriety fells her with a stone. Then all her saturnalian army is +scattered. Love casts away his quiver. Pomp strips herself of her +garments, and Voluptuousness (Voluptas) fears not to tread upon thorns, +&c. But Avarice disguises herself in the mask of Economy, and succeeds +in deceiving all hearts until she is overthrown finally by Mercy +(Operatica). All sorts of things happen, but eventually the poem winds +up with a prayer to Christ, in which we learn that the soul shall fall +again and again in the battle, and that this shall continue until the +coming of Christ." + +"'Tis very curious, very curious indeed. I know nothing of this +literature." + +"Very few do." + +"And you have, I suppose, translated some of these poems?" + +"I give a complete translation of the second hymn, the story of St +Laurence, and I give long extracts from the poem we have been speaking +about, and likewise from 'Hamartigenia,' which, by the way, some +consider as his greatest work. And I show more completely, I think, than +any other commentator, the analogy between it and the 'Divine Comedy,' +and how much Dante owed to it.... Then the 'terza rima' was undoubtedly +borrowed from the fourth hymn of the 'Cathemerinon.'"... + +"You said, I think, that Prudentius was a contemporary of Claudian. +Which do you think the greater poet?" + +"Prudentius by far. Claudian's Latin was no doubt purer and his verse +was better, that is to say, from the classical standpoint it was more +correct." + +"Is there any other standpoint?" + +"Of course. There is pagan Latin and Christian Latin: Burns' poems are +beautiful, and they are not written in Southern English; Chaucer's +verse is exquisitely melodious, although it will not scan to modern +pronunciation. In the earliest Christian poetry there is a tendency to +write by accent rather than by quantity, but that does not say that +the hymns have not a quaint Gothic music of their own. This is very +noticeable in Sedulius, a poet of the fifth century. His hymn to Christ +is not only full of assonance, but of all kinds of rhyme and even +double rhymes. We find the same thing in Sedonius, and likewise in +Fortunatus--a gay prelate, the morality of whose life is, I am afraid, +open to doubt... + +"He had all the qualities of a great poet, but he wasted his genius +writing love verses to Radegonde. The story is a curious one. Radegonde +was the daughter of the King of Thuringia; she was made prisoner by +Clotaire I., son of Clovis, who forced her to become his wife. On the +murder of her father by her husband, she fled and founded a convent at +Poictiers. There she met Fortunatus, who, it appears, loved her. It is +of course humanly possible that their love was not a guilty one, but it +is certain that the poet wasted the greater part of his life writing +verses to her and her adopted daughter Agnes. In a beautiful poem in +praise of virginity, composed in honour of Agnes, he speaks in a very +disgusting way of the love with which nuns regard our Redeemer, and the +recompence that awaits them in Heaven for their chastity. If it had not +been for the great interest attaching to his verse as an example of the +radical alteration that had been effected in the language, I do not +think I should have spoken of this poet. Up to his time rhyme had +slipped only occasionally into the verse, it had been noticed and had +been allowed to remain by poets too idle to remove it, a strange +something not quite understood, and yet not a wholly unwelcome intruder; +but in St Fortunatus we find for the first time rhyme cognate with the +metre, and used with certainty and brilliancy. In the opening lines of +the hymn, 'Vexilla Regis,' rhyme is used with superb effect.... + +"But for signs of the approaching dissolution of the language, of its +absorption by the national idiom, we must turn to St Gregory of Tours. +He was a man of defective education, and the _lingua rustica_ of France +as it was spoken by the people makes itself felt throughout his +writings. His use of _iscere_ for _escere_, of the accusative for the +ablative, one of St Gregory's favourite forms of speech, _pro or quod_ +for _quoniam_, conformable to old French _porceque_, so common for +_parceque_. And while national idiom was oozing through grammatical +construction, national forms of verse were replacing the classical +metres which, so far as syllables were concerned, had hitherto been +adhered to. As we advance into the sixth and seventh centuries, we find +English monks attempting to reproduce the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon +alliterative verse in Latin; and at the Court of Charlemagne we find an +Irish monk writing Latin verse in a long trochaic line, which is native +in Irish poetry. + +"Poets were plentiful at the court of Charlemagne. Now, Angilbert was a +poet of exquisite grace, and surprisingly modern is his music, which is +indeed a wonderful anticipation of the lilt of Edgar Poe. I compare it +to Poe. Just listen:-- + + "'Surge meo Domno dulces fac, fistula versus: + David amat versus, surge et fac fistula versus. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David + Qua propter vates cuncti concurrite in unum + Atque meo David dulces cantate camoenas. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David. + Dulcis amor David inspirat corda canentum, + Cordibus in nostris faciat amor ipsius odas: + Vates Homerus amat David, fac, fistula, versus. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.'" + +"I should have flogged that monk--'ipsius,' oh, oh!--'vatorum.'... It +really is too terrible." + +John laughed, and was about to reply, when the clanging of the college +bell was heard. + +"I am afraid that is dinner-time." + +"Afraid, I am delighted; you don't suppose that every one can live, +chameleon-like, on air, or worse still, on false quantities. Ha, ha, ha! +And those pictures too. That snow is more violet than white." + +When dinner was over, John and Mr Hare walked out on the terrace. The +carriage waited in the wet in front of the great oak portal; the grey, +stormy evening descended on the high roofs, smearing the red out of the +walls and buttresses, and melancholy and tall the red college seemed +amid its dwarf plantation, now filled with night wind and drifting +leaves. Shadow and mist had floated out of the shallows above the crests +of the valley, and the lamps of the farm-houses gleamed into a pale +existence. + +"And now tell me what I am to say to your mother. Will you come home for +Christmas?" + +"I suppose I must. I suppose it would seem so unkind if I didn't. I +cannot account even to myself for my dislike to the place. I cannot +think of it without a revulsion of feeling that is strangely personal." + +"I won't argue that point with you, but I think you ought to come home." + +"Why? Why ought I to come to Sussex, and marry my neighbour's daughter?" + +"There is no reason that you should marry your neighbour's daughter, +but I take it that you do not propose to pass your life here." + +"For the present I am concerned mainly with the problem of how I may +make advances, how I may meet life, as it were, half-way; for if +possible I would not quite lose touch of the world. I would love to live +in its shadow, a spectator whose duty it is to watch and encourage, and +pity the hurrying throng on the stage. The church would approve this +attitude, whereas hate and loathing of humanity are not to be justified. +But I can do nothing to hurry the state of feeling I desire, except of +course to pray. I have passed through some terrible moments of despair +and gloom, but these are now wearing themselves away, and I am feeling +more at rest." + +Then, as if from a sudden fear of ridicule, John said, laughing: +"Besides, looking at the question from a purely practical side, it must +be hardly wise for me to return to society for the present. I like +neither fox-hunting, marriage, Robert Louis Stevenson's stories, nor Sir +Frederick Leighton's pictures; I prefer monkish Latin to Virgil, and I +adore Degas, Monet, Manet, and Renoir, and since this is so, and alas, I +am afraid irrevocably so, do you not think that I should do well to keep +outside a world in which I should be the only wrong and vicious being? +Why spoil that charming thing called society by my unlovely presence? + +"Selfishness! I know what you are going to say--here is my answer. I +assure you I administer to the best of my ability the fortune God gave +me--I spare myself no trouble. I know the financial position of every +farmer on my estate, the property does not owe fifty pounds;--I keep the +tenants up to the mark; I do not approve of waste and idleness, but when +a little help is wanted I am ready to give it. And then, well, I don't +mind telling you, but it must not go any further. I have made a will +leaving something to all my tenants; I give away a fixed amount in +charity yearly." + +"I know, my dear John, I know your life is not a dissolute one; but your +mother is very anxious, remember you are the last. Is there no chance +of your ever marrying?" + +"I don't think I could live with a woman; there is something very +degrading, something very gross in such relations. There is a better and +a purer life to lead ... an inner life, coloured and permeated with +feelings and tones that are, oh, how intensely our own, and he who may +have this life, shrinks from any adventitious presence that might jar or +destroy it. To keep oneself unspotted, to feel conscious of no sense of +stain, to know, yes, to hear the heart repeat that this self--hands, +face, mouth and skin--is free from all befouling touch, is all one's +own. I have always been strongly attracted to the colour white, and I +can so well and so acutely understand the legend that tells that the +ermine dies of gentle loathing of its own self, should a stain come upon +its immaculate fur.... I should not say a legend, for that implies that +the story is untrue, and it is not untrue--so beautiful a thought could +not be untrue." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Qui Romam regis.] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"Urns on corner walls, pilasters, circular windows, flowerage and +loggia. What horrible taste, and quite out of keeping with the +landscape!" He rang the bell. + +"How do you do, Master John!" cried the tottering old butler who had +known him since babyhood. "Very glad, indeed, we all are to see you home +again, sir!" + +Neither the appellation of Master John, nor the sight of the four +paintings, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, which decorated the walls +of the passage, found favour with John, and the effusiveness of Mrs +Norton, who rushed out of the drawing-room, followed by Kitty, and +embraced her son, at once set on edge all his curious antipathies. Why +this kissing, this approachment of flesh? Of course she was his +mother.... Then this smiling girl in the background! He would have to +amuse her and talk to her; what infinite boredom it would be! He trusted +fervently that her visit would not be a long one. + +Then through what seemed to him the pollution of triumph, he was led +into the library; and he noticed, notwithstanding the presiding busts of +Shakespeare and Milton, that there was but one wretched stand full of +books in the room, and that in the gloom of a far corner. His mother sat +down, and there was a resoluteness in her look and attitude that seemed +to proclaim, "Now I hold you captive;" but she said: + +"I was very much alarmed, my dear John, about your not sleeping. Mr Hare +told me you said that you went two and three nights without closing your +eyes, and that you had to have recourse to sleeping draughts." + +"Not at all, mother, I never took a sleeping draught but twice in my +life." + +"Well, you don't sleep well, and I am sure it is those college beds. +But you will be far more comfortable here. You are in the best bedroom +in the house, the one in front of the staircase, the bridal chamber; and +I have selected the largest and softest feather-bed in the house." + +"My dear mother, if there is one thing more than another I dislike, it +is a feather-bed. I should not be able to close my eyes; I beg of you to +have it taken away." + +Mrs Norton's face flushed. "I cannot understand, John; it is absurd to +say that you cannot sleep on a feather-bed. Mr Hare told me you +complained of insomnia, and there is no surer way of losing your health. +It is owing to the hardness of those college mattresses, whereas in a +feather-bed--" + +"There is no use in our arguing that point, mother, I say I cannot sleep +on a feather-bed...." + +"But you have not tried one; I don't believe you ever slept on a +feather-bed in your life." + +"Well, I am not going to begin now." + +"We haven't another bed aired in the house, and it is really too late +to ask the servants to change your room." + +"Well, then, I shall be obliged to sleep at the hotel in Henfield." + +"You should not speak to your mother in that way; I will not have it." + +"There! you see we are quarrelling already; I did wrong to come home." + +"I am speaking to you for your own good, my dear John, and I think it is +very stubborn of you to refuse to sleep on a feather-bed; if you don't +like it, you can change it to-morrow." + +The conversation fell, and in silence the speakers strove to master +their irritation. Then John, for politeness' sake, spoke of when he had +last seen Kitty. It was about five years ago. She had ridden her pony +over to see them. + +Mrs Norton talked of some people who had left the county, of a marriage, +of an engagement, of a mooted engagement; and she jerked in a +suggestion that if John were to apply at once, he would be placed +on the list of deputy-lieutenants. Enumeration of the family +influence--Lord So-and-so, the cousin, was the Lord Lieutenant's most +intimate friend. + +"You are not even a J.P., but there will be no difficulty about that; +and you have not seen any of the county people for years. We will have +the carriage out some day this week, and we'll pay a round of visits." + +"We'll do nothing of the kind. I have no time for visiting; I must get +on with my book. I hope to finish my study of St Augustine before I +leave here. I have my books to unpack, and a great deal of reading to +get through. I have done no more than glance at the Anglo-Latin. +Literature died in France with Gregory of Tours at the end of the sixth +century; with St Gregory the Great, in Italy, at the commencement of the +seventh century; in Spain about the same time. And then the Anglo-Saxons +became the representatives of the universal literature. All this is +most important. I must re-read St Aldhelm and the Venerable Bede.... +Now, I ask, do you expect me--me, with my head full of Aldhelm's +alliterative verses-- + + "'Turbo terram teretibus + Quae catervatim coelitus + Neque coelorum culmina + ...... + ...... + Grassabatur turbinibus + Crebrantur nigris nubibus + Carent nocturna nebula--' + +"a letter descriptive of a great storm which he was caught in as he was +returning home one night...." + +"Now, sir, we have had quite enough of that, and I would advise you not +to go on with any of that nonsense here; you will be turned into +dreadful ridicule." + +"That's just why I wish to avoid them ... but you have no pity for me. +Just fancy my having to listen to them! How I have suffered.... What is +the use of growing wheat when we are only getting eight pounds ten a +load?... But we must grow something, and there is nothing else but +wheat. We must procure a certain amount of straw, or we'd have no +manure, and you can't work a farm without manure. I don't believe in the +fish manure. But there is market gardening, and if we kept shops in +Brighton, we could grow our own stuff and sell it at retail price.... +And then there is a great deal to be done with flowers." + +"Now, sir, that will do, that will do.... How dare you speak to me so! I +will not allow it." And then relapsing into an angry silence, Mrs Norton +drew her shawl about her shoulders. + +One of a thousand quarrels. The basis of each nature was common +sense--shrewd common sense--but such similarity of structure is in +itself apt to lead to much violent shocking of opinion; and to this end +an adjuvant was found in the dose of fantasy, mysticism, idealism which +was inherent in John's character. "Why is he not like other people? Why +will he waste his time with a lot of rubbishy Latin authors? Why will he +not take up his position in the county?" Mrs Norton asked herself these +questions as she fumed on the sofa. + +"I wonder why she will continue to try to impose her will upon mine. I +wonder why she has not found out by this time the uselessness of her +effort. But no; she still keeps on hoping at last to wear me down. She +wants me to live the life she has marked out for me to live--to take up +my position in the county, and, above all, to marry and give an heir to +the property. I see it all; that is why she wanted me to spend Christmas +with her; that is why she has Kitty Hare here to meet me. How cunning, +how mean women are: a man would not do that. Had I known it.... I have a +mind to leave to-morrow. I wonder if the girl is in the little +conspiracy." And turning his head he looked at her. + +Tall and slight, a grey dress, pale as the wet sky, fell from her waist +outward in the manner of a child's frock, and there was a lightness, +there was brightness in the clear eyes. The intense youth of her heart +was evanescent; it seemed constantly rising upwards like the breath of +a spring morning--a morning when the birds are trilling. The face +sharpened to a tiny chin, and the face was pale, although there was +bloom on the cheeks. The forehead was shadowed by a sparkling cloud of +brown hair, the nose was straight, and each little nostril was pink +tinted. The ears were like shells. There was a rigidity in her attitude. +She laughed abruptly, perhaps a little nervously, and the abrupt laugh +revealed the line of tiny white teeth. Thin arms fell straight to the +translucent hands, and there was a recollection of puritan England in +look and in gesture. + +Her picturesqueness calmed John's ebullient discontent; he decided that +she knew nothing of, and was not an accomplice in, his mother's scheme: +For the sake of his guest he strove to make himself agreeable during +dinner, but it was clear that he missed the hierarchy of the college +table. The conversation fell repeatedly. Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke of +making syrup for the bees; and their discussion of the illness of poor +Dr ----, who would no longer be able to get through the work of the +parish single-handed, and would require a curate, was continued till the +ladies rose from table. Nor did matters mend in the library. John's +thoughts went back to his book; the room seemed to him intolerably +uncomfortable and ugly. He went to the billiard-room to smoke a cigar. +It was not clear to him if he would be able to spend two months in this +odious place. He might offer them to God as penance for his sins; if +every evening passed like the present, it were a modern martyrdom. +But had they removed that horrid feather-bed? He went upstairs. The +feather-bed had been removed. + +The room was large and ample, and it was draped with many curtains--pale +curtains covered with walking birds and falling petals, a sort of Indian +pattern. There was a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the toilette-table +hung out its skirts in the wavering light of the fire. John tossed to +and fro staring at the birds and petals. He thought of his ascetic +college bed, of the great Christ upon the wall, of the prie-dieu with +the great rosary hanging, but in vain; he could not rid his mind of the +distasteful feminine influences which had filled the day, and which now +haunted the night. + +After breakfast next morning Mrs Norton stopped John as he was going +upstairs to unpack his books. "Now," she said, "you must go out for a +walk with Kitty Hare, and I hope you will make yourself agreeable. I +want you to see the new greenhouse I have put up; she'll show it to you. +And I told the bailiff to meet you in the yard. I thought you might like +to see him." + +"I wish, mother, you would not interfere in my business; had I wanted to +see Burnes I should have sent for him." + +"If you don't want to see him, he wants to see you. There are some +cottages on the farm that must be put into repair at once. As for +interfering in your business, I don't know how you can talk like that; +were it not for me the whole place would be falling to pieces." + +"Quite true; I know you save me a great deal of expense; but really ..." + +"Really what? You won't go out to walk with Kitty Hare?" + +"I did not say I wouldn't, but I must say that I am very busy just now. +I had thought of doing a little reading, for I have an appointment with +my solicitor in the afternoon." + +"That man charges you £200 a-year for collecting the rents; now, if you +were to do it yourself, you would save the money, and it would give you +something to do." + +"Something to do! I have too much to do as it is.... But if I am going +out with Kitty.... Where is she?" + +"I saw her go into the library a moment ago." + +And as it was preferable to go for a walk with Kitty than to continue +the interview with his mother, John seized his hat and called Kitty, +Kitty, Kitty! Presently she appeared, and they walked towards the +garden, talking. She told him she had been at Thornby Place the whole +time the greenhouse was being built, and when they opened the door they +were greeted by Sammy. He sprang instantly on her shoulder. + +"This is my cat," she said. "I've fed him since he was a little kitten; +isn't he sweet?" + +The girl was beautiful on the brilliant flower background; she stroked +the great caressing creature, and when she put him down he mewed +reproachfully. Further on her two tame rooks cawed joyously, and +alighted on her shoulder. + +"I wonder they don't fly away, and join the others in the trees." + +"One did go away, and he came back nearly dead with hunger. But he is +all right now, aren't you, dear?" And the bird cawed, and rubbed its +black head against its mistress' cheek. "Poor little things, they fell +out of the nest before they could fly, and I brought them up. But you +don't care for pets, do you, John?" + +"I don't like birds!" + +"Don't like birds! Why, that seems as strange as if you said that you +didn't like flowers." + +"Mrs Norton told me, sir, that you would like to speak to me about them +cottages on the Erringham Farm," said the bailiff. + +"Yes, yes, I must go over and see them to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. +I intend to go thoroughly into everything. How are they getting on with +the cottages that were burnt down?" + +"Rather slow, sir, the weather is so bad." + +"But talking of fire, Burnes, I find that I can insure at a much cheaper +rate at Lloyds' than at most of the offices. I find that I shall make a +saving of £20 a-year." + +"That's worth thinking about, sir." + +While the young squire talked to his bailiff Kitty fed her rooks. They +cawed, and flew to her hand for the scraps of meat. The coachman came +to speak about oats and straw. They went to the stables. Kitty adored +horses, it amused John to see her pat them, and her vivacity and +light-heartedness rather pleased him than otherwise. + +Nevertheless, during the whole of the following week the ladies held +little communication with John. He lived apart from them. In the +mornings he went out with his bailiffs to inspect farms and consult +about possible improvement and necessary repairs. He had appointments +with his solicitor. There were accounts to be gone through. He never +paid a bill without verifying every item. It was difficult to say what +should be done with a farm for which a tenant could not be found even +at a reduced rent. At four o'clock he came into tea, his head full of +calculations of such a complex character that even his mother could not +follow the different statements to his satisfaction. When she disagreed +with him, he took up the "Epistles of St Columban of Bangor," the +"Epistola ad Sethum," or the celebrated poem, "Epistola ad Fedolium," +written when the saint was seventy-two, and continued his reading, +making copious notes in a pocket-book. To do so he drew his chair close +to the library fire, and when Kitty came quickly into the room with a +flutter of skirts and a sound of laughter, he awoke from contemplation, +and her singing as she ascended the stairs jarred the dreams of cloister +and choir which mounted from the pages to his brain in clear and +intoxicating rhapsody. + +On the third of November Mrs Norton announced that the meet of the +hounds had been fixed for the fifteenth, and that there would be a hunt +breakfast. + +"Oh, my dear mother! you don't mean that they are coming here to lunch!" + +"For the last twenty years all our side of the county has been in the +habit of coming here to lunch, but of course you can shut your doors to +all your friends and acquaintances. No doubt they will think you have +come down here on purpose to insult them." + +"Insult them! why should I insult them? I haven't seen them since I was +a boy. I remember that the hunt breakfast used to go on all day long. +Every woman in the county used to come, and they used to stay to tea, +and you used to insist on a great number remaining to supper." + +"Well, you can put a stop to all that now that you have consented to +come to Thornby Place, only I hope you don't expect me to remain here to +see my friends insulted." + +"But just think of the expense! and in these bad times. You know I +cannot find a tenant for the Woreington farm. I am afraid I shall have +to provide the capital and farm it myself. Now, in the face of such +losses, don't you think that we should retrench?" + +"Retrench! A few fowls and rounds of beef! You don't think of retrenching +when you present Stanton College with a stained glass window that costs +five hundred pounds." + +"Of course, if you like it, mother..." + +"I like nothing but what you like, but I really think that for you to +put down the hunt breakfast the first time you honour us with a visit, +would look very much as if you intended to insult the whole county." + +"It will be a day of misery for me!" replied John, laughing; "but I +daresay I shall live through it." + +"I think you will like it very much," said Kitty. "There will be a lot +of pretty girls here: the Misses Green are coming from Worthing; the +eldest is such a pretty girl, you are sure to admire her. And the hounds +and horses look so beautiful." + +Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke daily of invitations, and later on of cooking +and the various things that were wanted. John continued to go through +his accounts in the morning, and to read monkish Latin in the evening; +but he was secretly nervous, and he dreaded the approaching day. + +He was called an hour earlier--eight o'clock; he drank a cup of cold tea +and ate a piece of dry toast in a back room. The dining-room was full +of servants, who laid out a long table rich with comestibles and +glittering with glass. Mrs Norton and Kitty were upstairs dressing. + +He wandered into the drawing-room and viewed the dead, cumbrous +furniture; the two cabinets bright with brass and veneer. He stood at +the window staring. It was raining. The yellow of the falling leaves was +hidden in the grey mist. It ceased to rain. "This weather will keep many +away; so much the better; there will be too many as it is. I wonder who +this can be." A melancholy brougham passed up the drive. There were +three old maids, all looking sweetly alike; one was a cripple who walked +with crutches, and her smile was the best and the gayest imaginable +smile. + +"How little material welfare has to do with our happiness," thought +John. "There is one whose path is the narrowest, and she is happier and +better than I." And then the three sweet old maids talked with their +cousin of the weather; and they all wondered--a sweet feminine +wonderment--if he would see a girl that day whom he would marry. + +Presently the house was full of people. The passage was full of girls; a +few men sat at breakfast at the end of the long table. Some red coats +passed across the green glare of the park, and the hounds trotted about +a single horseman. Voices. "Oh! how sweet they look! oh, the dear dogs!" +The huntsman stopped in front of the house, the hounds sniffed here +and there, the whips trotted their horses and drove them back. "Get +together, get together; get back there; Woodland, Beauty, come up here." +The hounds rolled on the grass, and leaned their fore-paws on the +railings, willing to be caressed. + +"How sweet they are, look at their soft eyes," cried an old lady whose +deity was a pug, and whose back garden reeked of the tropics. "Look how +good and kind they are; they would not hurt anything; it is only wicked +men who teach them to be ..." The old lady hesitated before the word +"bad," and murmured something about killing. + +There was a lady with melting eyes, many children, and a long sealskin, +and she availed herself of the excuse of seeing the hounds to rejoin a +young man in whom she was interested. There was an old sportsman of +seventy winters, as hale and as hearty as an oak, standing on the +door-step, and he made John promise to come over and see him. The girls +strolled about in groups. As usual young men were lacking. Looking at +his watch, the huntsman pressed the sides of his horse, and rode to draw +the covers at the end of the park. The ladies followed to see the start, +although the mud was inches deep under foot. "Hu in, hu in," cried the +huntsman. The whips trotted round cracking their long whips. Not a sound +was heard. Suddenly there was a whimper, "Hark to Woodland," cried the +huntsman. The hounds rallied to the point, but nothing came of it. +Apparently the old bitch was at fault. The huntsman muttered something +inaudible. But some few hundred yards further on, in an outlying clump +where no one would expect to find, a fox broke clean away. + +The country is as flat as a smooth sea. Chanctonbury Ring stands up like +a mighty cliff on a northern shore; its crown of trees is grim. The +abrupt ascents of Toddington Mount bear away to the left, and tide-like +the fields flow up into the great gulf between. + +"He's making for the furze, but he'll never reach them; he got no start, +and the ground is heavy." + +Then the watchers saw the horsemen making their way up the chalky roads +cut in the precipitous side of the downs. Rain began to fall, umbrellas +were put up, and all hurried home to lunch. + +"Now John, try and make yourself agreeable, go over and talk to some of +the young ladies. Why do you dress yourself in that way? Have you no +other coat? You look like a young priest. Look at that young man over +there! how nicely dressed he is! I wish you would let your moustache +grow; it would improve you immensely." With these and similar remarks +whispered to him, Mrs Norton continued to exasperate her son until the +servants announced that lunch was ready. "Take in Mrs So-and-so," she +said to John, who would fain have escaped from the melting glances of +the lady in the long sealskin. He offered her his arm with an air of +resignation, and set to work valiantly to carve a huge turkey. + +As soon as the servants had cleared away after one set another came, and +although the meet was a small one, John took six ladies in to lunch. +About half-past three the men adjourned to the billiard-room to smoke. +The girls, mighty in numbers, followed, and, with their arms round each +other's waists, and interlacing fingers, they grouped themselves about +the room. Two huntsmen returned dripping wet, and much to his annoyance, +John had to furnish them with a change of clothes. There was tea in the +drawing-room about five o'clock, and soon after the visitors began to +take their leave. + +The wind blew very coldly, the roosting rooks rose out of the branches, +and the carriages rolled into the night; but still a remnant of visitors +stood on the steps talking to John. His cold was worse; he felt very +ill, and now a long sharp pain had grown through his left side, and +momentarily it became more and more difficult to exchange polite words +and smiles. The footmen stood waiting by the open door, the horses +champed their bits, the green of the park was dark, and a group of +kissing girls moved about the loggia, wheels grated on the gravel ... +all were gone! The butler shut the door, and John went to the library +fire. + +There his mother found him. She saw that something was seriously the +matter. He was helped up to bed, and the doctor was sent for. A bad +attack of pleurisy. John was rolled up in an enormous mustard +plaster--mustard and cayenne pepper; it bit into the flesh. He roared +with pain; he was slightly delirious; he cursed those around him, using +blasphemous language. + +For more than a week he suffered. He lay bent over, unable to +straighten himself, as if a nerve had been wound up too tightly in the +left side. He was fed on gruel and beef-tea, the room was kept very +warm; it was not until the twelfth day that he was taken out of bed. + +"You have had a narrow escape," the doctor said to John, who, well +wrapped up, lay back, looking very weak and pale, before a blazing fire. +"It was very lucky I was sent for. Twenty-four hours later I would not +have answered for your life." + +"I was delirious, was I not?" + +"Yes, slightly; you cursed and swore fearfully at us when we rolled you +up in the mustard plaster.... Well, it was very hot, and must have burnt +you." + +"Yes, it was; it has scarcely left a bit of skin on me. But did I use +very bad language? I suppose I could not help it.... I was delirious, +was I not?" + +"Yes, slightly." + +"Yes; but I remember, and if I remember right, I used very bad +language; and people when they are really delirious do not know what +they say. Is not that so, doctor?" + +"If they are really delirious they do not remember, but you were only +slightly delirious ... you were maddened by the pain occasioned by the +pungency of the plaster." + +"Yes; but do you think I knew what I was saying?" + +"You must have known what you were saying, because you remember what you +said." + +"But could I be held accountable for what I said?" + +"Accountable.... Well, I hardly know what you mean. You were certainly +not in the full possession of your senses. Your mother (Mrs Norton) was +very much shocked, but I told her that you were not accountable for what +you said." + +"Then I could not be held accountable, I did not know what I was +saying." + +"I don't think you did exactly; people in a passion don't know what +they say!" + +"Ah! yes, but we are answerable for sins committed in the heat of +passion: we should restrain our passion; we were wrong in the first +instance in giving way to passion.... But I was ill, it was not exactly +passion. And I was very near death; I had a narrow escape, doctor?" + +"Yes, I think I can call it a narrow escape." + +The voices ceased,--five o'clock,--the curtains were rosy with lamp +light, and conscience awoke in the langours of convalescent hours. "I +stood on the verge of death!" The whisper died away. John was still very +weak, and he had not strength to think with much insistance, but now and +then remembrance surprised him suddenly like pain; it came unexpectedly, +he knew not whence nor how, but he could not choose but listen. Each +interval of thought grew longer; the scabs of forgetfulness were picked +away, the red sore was exposed bleeding and bare. Was he responsible +for those words? He could remember them all now; each like a burning +arrow lacerated his bosom, and he pulled them to and fro. Remembrance +in the watches of the night, dawn fills the dark spaces of a window, +meditations grow more and more lucid. He could now distinguish the +instantaneous sensation of wrong that had flashed on his excited mind in +the moment of his sinning.... Then he could think no more, and in the +twilight of contrition he dreamed vaguely of God's great goodness, of +penance, of ideal atonements. Christ hung on the cross, and far away the +darkness was seared with flames and demons. + +And as strength returned, remembrance of his blasphemies grew stronger +and fiercer, and often as he lay on his pillow, his thoughts passing in +long procession, his soul would leap into intense suffering. "I stood on +the verge of death with blasphemies on my tongue. I might have been +called to confront my Maker with horrible blasphemies in my heart and on +my tongue; but He in His Divine goodness spared me: He gave me time to +repent. Am I answerable, O my God, for those dreadful words that I +uttered against Thee, because I suffered a little pain, against Thee Who +once died on the cross to save me! O God, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy +look down on me, on me! Vouchsafe me Thy mercy, O my God, for I was +weak! My sin is loathsome; I prostrate myself before Thee, I cry aloud +for mercy!" + +Then seeing Christ amid His white million of youths, beautiful singing +saints, gold curls and gold aureoles, lifted throats, and form of harp +and dulcimer, he fell prone in great bitterness on the misery of earthly +life. His happinesses and ambitions appeared to him less than the +scattering of a little sand on the sea-shore. Joy is passion, passion +is suffering; we cannot desire what we possess, therefore desire is +rebellion prolonged indefinitely against the realities of existence; +when we attain the object of our desire, we must perforce neglect it in +favour of something still unknown, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. The winds of folly and desolation howl about us; the sorrows +of happiness are the worst to bear, and the wise soon learn that there +is nothing to dream of but the end of desire.... God is the one ideal, +the Church the one shelter from the misery and meanness of life. Peace +is inherent in lofty arches, rapture in painted panes.... See the mitres +and crosiers, the blood-stained heavenly breasts, the loin-linen hanging +over orbs of light.... Listen! ah! the voices of chanting boys, and out +of the cloud of incense come Latin terminations, and the organ still is +swelling. + +In such religious aestheticisms the soul of John Norton had long +slumbered, but now it awoke in remorse and pain, and, repulsing its +habitual exaltations even as if they were sins, he turned to the primal +idea of the vileness of this life, and its sole utility in enabling man +to gain heaven. Beauty, what was it but temptation? He winced before a +conclusion so repugnant to him, but the terrors of the verge on which +he had so lately stood were still upon him in all their force, and he +crushed his natural feelings.... + +The manifestation of modern pessimism in John Norton has been described, +and how its influence was checked by constitutional mysticity has +also been shown. Schopenhauer, when he overstepped the line ruled by +the Church, was instantly rejected. From him John Norton's faith +had suffered nothing; the severest and most violent shocks had come +from another side--a side which none would guess, so complex and +contradictory are the involutions of the human brain. Hellenism, Greek +culture and ideal; academic groves; young disciples, Plato and Socrates, +the august nakedness of the Gods were equal, or almost equal, in his +mind with the lacerated bodies of meagre saints; and his heart wavered +between the temple of simple lines and the cathedral of a thousand +arches. Once there had been a sharp struggle, but Christ, not Apollo, +had been the victor, and the great cross in the bedroom of Stanton +College overshadowed the beautiful slim body in which Divinity seemed to +circulate like blood; and this photograph was all that now remained of +much youthful anguish and much temptation. + +A fact to note is that his sense of reality had always remained in a +rudimentary state; it was, as it were, diffused over the world and +mankind. For instance, his belief in the misery and degradation of +earthly life, and the natural bestiality of man, was incurable; but of +this or that individual he had no opinion; he was to John Norton a blank +sheet of paper, to which he could not affix even a title. His childhood +had been one of bitter tumult and passionate sorrow; the different and +dissident ideals growing up in his heart and striving for the mastery, +had torn and tortured him, and he had long lain as upon a mental rack. +Ignorance of the material laws of existence had extended even into his +sixteenth year, and when, bit by bit, the veil fell, and he understood, +he was filled with loathing of life and mad desire to wash himself +free of its stain; and it was this very hatred of natural flesh that +precipitated a perilous worship of the deified flesh of the God. But +mysticity saved him from plain paganism, and the art of the Gothic +cathedral grew dear to him. It was nearer akin to him, and he assuaged +his wounded soul in the ecstacies of incense and the great charms of +Gregorian chant. + +But fear now for the first time took possession of him, and he +realised--if not in all its truth, at least in part--that his love of +God had only taken the form of a gratification of the senses, a +sensuality higher but as intense as those which he so much reproved. +Fear smouldered in his very entrails, and doubt fumed and went out like +steam--long lines and falling shadows and slowly dispersing clouds. His +life had been but a sin, an abomination, and the fairest places darkened +as the examination of conscience proceeded. His thought whirled in +dreadful night, soul-torturing contradictions came suddenly under his +eyes, like images in a night-mare; and in horror and despair, as a woman +rising from a bed of small-pox drops the mirror after the first glance, +and shrinks from destroying the fair remembrance of her face by pursuing +the traces of the disease through every feature, he hid his face in his +hands and called for forgiveness--for escape from the endless record of +his conscience. With staring eyes and contracted brows he saw the flames +which await him who blasphemes. To the verge of those flames he had +drifted. If God in His infinite mercy had not withheld him?... He +pictured himself lost in fires and furies. Then looking up he saw the +face of Christ, grown pitiless in final time--Christ standing immutable +amid His white million of youths.... + +And the worthlessness and the abjectness of earthly life struck him with +awful and all-convincing power, and this vision of the worthlessness of +existence was clearer than any previous vision. He paused. There was but +one conclusion ... it looked down upon him like a star--he would become a +priest. All darkness, all madness, all fear faded, and with sure and +certain breath he breathed happiness; the sense of consecration nestled +in its heart, and its light shone upon his face. + +There was nothing in the past, but there is the sweetness of meditation +in the present, and in the future there is God. Like a fountain flowing +amid a summer of leaves and song, the sweet hours came with quiet and +melodious murmur. In the great arm-chair of his ancestors he sits thin +and tall. Thin and tall. The great flames decorate the darkness, and the +twilight sheds upon the rose curtains, walking birds and falling petals. +But his thoughts are dreaming through long aisle and solemn arch, clouds +of incense and painted panes.... The palms rise in great curls like the +sky; and amid the opulence of gold vestments, the whiteness of the +choir, the Latin terminations and the long abstinences, the holy oil +comes like a kiss that never dies ... and in full glory of symbol and +chant, the very savour of God descends upon him ... and then he awakes, +surprised to find such dreams out of sleep. + +His resolve did not alter; he longed for health because it would bring +the realisation of his desire, and time appeared to him cruelly long. +Nor could he think of the pain he inflicted on his mother, so centred +was he in this thought; he was blind to her sorrowing face, he was deaf +to her entreaty; he could neither feel nor see beyond the immediate +object he had in mind, and he spoke to her in despair of the length of +months that separated him from consecration; he speculated on the +possibility of expediting that happy day by a dispensation from the +Pope. The moment he could obtain permission from the doctor he ordered +his trunks to be packed, and when he bid Mrs Norton and Kitty Hare +good-bye, he exacted a promise from the former to be present at Stanton +College on Palm Sunday. He wished her to be present when he embraced +Holy Orders. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Every morning Mrs Norton flung her black shawl over her shoulders, +rattled her keys, and scolded the servants at the end of the long +passage. Kitty, as she watered the flowers in the greenhouse, often +wondered why John had chosen to become a priest and grieve his mother. +Three times out of five when the women met at lunch, Mrs Norton said: + +"Kitty, would you like to come out for a drive?" + +Kitty answered, "I don't mind; just as you like, Mrs Norton." + +After tea at five Kitty read for an hour, and in the evening she played +the piano; and she sometimes endeavoured to console her hostess by +suggesting that people did change their minds, and that John might not +become a priest after all. Mrs Norton looked at the girl, and it was +often on her lips to say, "If you had only flirted, if you had only paid +him some attentions, all might have been different." But heart-broken +though she was, Mrs Norton could not speak the words. The girl looked so +candid, so flowerlike in her guilelessness, that the thought seemed a +pollution. And in a few days Mr Hare sent for Kitty; and with her +departed the last ray of sunlight, and Thornby Place grew too sad and +solitary for Mrs Norton. + +She went to visit some friends; she spent Christmas at the Rectory; and +in the long evenings when Kitty had gone to bed, she opened her heart +to her old friend. The last hope was gone; there was nothing for her to +look for now. John did not even write to her; she had not heard from him +since he left. It was very wrong of the Jesuits to encourage him in such +conduct, and she thought of laying the whole matter before the Pope. The +order had once been suppressed; she did not remember by what Pope; but +a Pope had grown tired of their intrigues, and had suppressed the order. +She made these accusations in moments of passion, and immediately after +came deep regret.... How wrong of her to speak ill of her religion, and +to a Protestant! If John did become a priest it would be a punishment +for her sins. But what was she saying? If John became a priest, she +should thank God for His great goodness. What greater honour could he +bestow upon her? Next day she took the train to Brighton, and went to +confession; and that very same evening she pleadingly suggested to Mr +Hare that he should go to Stanton College, and endeavour to persuade +John to return home. The parson was of course obliged to decline. He +advised her to leave the matter in the hands of God, and Mrs Norton went +to bed a prey to scruples of conscience of all kinds. + +She even began to think it wrong to remain any longer in an essentially +Protestant atmosphere. But to return to Thornby Place alone was +impossible, and she begged for Kitty. The parson was loth to part with +his daughter, but he felt there was much suffering beneath the calm +exterior that Mrs Norton preserved. He could refuse her nothing, and he +let Kitty go. + +"There is no reason why you should not come and dine with us every day; +but I shall not let you have her back for the next two months." + +"What day will you come and see us, father dear?" said Kitty, leaning +out of the carriage window. + +"On Thursday," cried the parson. + +"Very well, we shall expect you," replied Mrs Norton; and with a sigh +she sank back on the cushions, and fell to thinking of her son. + +At Thornby Place everything was soon discovered to be in a sad state of +neglect. There was much work to be done in the greenhouse, the azaleas +were being devoured by insects, and the leaves required a thorough +washing. It was easy to see that the cats had not been regularly fed, +and one of the tame rooks had flown away. Remedying these disasters, +Mrs Norton and Kitty hurried to and fro. There was a ball at Steyning, +and Mrs Norton consented to do the chaperon for once; and the girl's +dress was a subject of gossip for a month--for a fortnight an absorbing +occupation. Most of the people who had been at the hunt breakfast were +at the ball, and Kitty had plenty of partners. These suggested husbands +to Mrs Norton, and she questioned Kitty; but she did not seem to have +thought of the ball except in the light of a toy which she had been +allowed to play with one evening. The young men she had met there had +apparently interested her no more than if they had been girls, and she +regretted John only because of Mrs Norton. Every morning she ran to see +if there was a letter, so that it might be she who brought the good +news. But no letter came. Since Christmas John had written two short +notes, and now they were well on in April. But one morning as she stood +watching the springtide, Kitty saw him walking up the drive; the sky +was growing bright with blue, and the beds were catching flower beneath +the evergreen oaks. She ran to Mrs Norton, who was attending to the +canaries in the bow-window. + +"Look, look, Mrs Norton, John is coming up the drive; it is he; look!" + +"John!" said Mrs Norton, seeking for her glasses nervously; "yes, so it +is; let's run and meet him. But no; let's take him rather coolly. I +believe half his eccentricity is only put on because he wishes to +astonish us. We won't ask him any questions; we'll just wait and let him +tell his own story...." + +"How do you do, mother?" said the young man, kissing Mrs Norton with +less reluctance than usual. "You must forgive me for not having answered +your letters. It really was not my fault; I have been passing through a +very terrible state of mind lately.... And how do you do, Kitty? Have +you been keeping my mother company ever since? It is very good in you; +I am afraid you must think me a very undutiful son. But what is the +news?" + +"One of the rooks is gone." + +"Is that all?... What about the ball at Steyning? I hear it was a great +success." + +"Oh, it was delightful." + +"You must tell me about it after dinner. Now I must go round to the +stables and tell Walls to take the trap round to the station to fetch my +things." + +"Are you going to be here some time?" said Mrs Norton, assuming an +indifferent air. + +"Yes, I think so; that is to say, for a couple of months--six weeks. I +have some arrangements to make, but I will speak to you about all that +after dinner." + +With these words John left the room, and he left his mother agitated and +frightened. + +"What can he mean by having arrangements to make?" she asked. Kitty +could of course suggest no explanation, and the women waited the +pleasure of the young man to speak his mind. He seemed, however, in +no hurry to do so; and the manner in which he avoided the subject +aggravated his mother's uneasiness. At last she said, unable to bear the +suspense any longer: + +"Are you going to be a priest, John, dear?" + +"Of course, but not a Jesuit...." + +"And why? have you had a quarrel with the Jesuits?" + +"Oh, no; never mind; I don't like to talk about it; not exactly a +quarrel, but I have seen a great deal of them lately, and I have found +them out. I don't mean in anything wrong, but the order is so entirely +opposed to the monastic spirit. It is difficult to explain; I really +can't.... What I mean is ... well, that their worldliness is repugnant to +me--fashionable friends, confidences, meddling in family affairs, dining +out, letters from ladies who need consolation.... I don't mean anything +wrong; pray don't misunderstand me. I merely mean to say that I hate +their meddling in family affairs. Their confessional is a kind of +marriage bureau; they have always got some plan on for marrying this +person to that, and I must say I hate all that sort of thing.... If I +were a priest I would disdain to ... but perhaps I am wrong to speak like +that. Yes, it is very wrong of me, and before ... Kitty, you must not +think I am speaking against the principles of my religion, I am only +speaking of matters of--" + +"And have you given up your rooms in Stanton College?" + +"Not yet; that is to say, nothing is settled definitely, but I do not +think I shall go back there; at least not to live." + +"And you still are determined on becoming a priest?" + +"Certainly, but not a Jesuit." + +"What then?" + +"A Carmelite. I have seen a great deal of these monks lately, and it is +only they who preserve some of the old spirit of the old ideal. To enter +the Carmelite Chapel in Kensington is to step out of the mean +atmosphere of to-day into the lofty charm of the Middle Ages. The long +straight folds of habits falling over sandalled feet, the great rosaries +hanging down from the girdles, the smell of burning wax, the large +tonsures, the music of the choir; I know nothing like it. Last Sunday I +heard them sing St Fortunatus' hymn,... the _Vexilla regis_ heard in the +cloud of incense, and the wrath of the organ!... splendid are the rhymes! +the first stanza in U and O, the second in A, and the third in E; +passing over the closed vowels, the hymn ascends the scale of sound--" + +"Now, John, none of that nonsense; how dare you, sir? Don't attempt to +laugh at your mother." + +"My dear mother, you must not think I am sneering because I speak of +what is uppermost in my mind. I have determined to become a Carmelite +monk, and that is why I came down here." + +Mrs Norton was very angry; her temper fumed, and she would have burst +into violent words had not the last words, "and that is why I came down +here," frightened her into calmness. + +"What do you mean?" she said, turning round in her chair. "You came down +here to become a Carmelite monk; what do you mean?" + +John hesitated. He was clearly a little frightened, but having gone so +far he felt he must proceed. Besides, to-day, or to-morrow, sooner or +later the truth would have to be told. He said: + +"I intend altering the house a little here and there; you know how +repugnant this mock Italian architecture is to my feelings.... I am +coming to live here with some monks--" + +"You must be mad, sir; you mean to say that you intend to pull down the +house of your ancestors and turn it into a monastery?" + +John drew a breath of relief, the worst was over now; she had spoken the +fulness of his thought. Yes, he was going to turn Thornby Place into a +monastery. + +"Yes," he said, "if you like to put it in that way. Yes, I am going to +turn Thornby Place into a monastery. Why shouldn't I? I am resolved +never to marry; and I have no one except those dreadful cousins to leave +the place to. Why shouldn't I turn it into a monastery and become a +monk? I wish to save my soul." + +Mrs Norton groaned. + +"But you make me say more than I mean. To turn the place into a Gothic +monastery, such a monastery as I dreamed would not be possible, unless +indeed I pulled the whole place down, and I have not sufficient money to +do that, and I do not wish to mortgage the property. For the present I +am determined only on a few alterations. I have them all in my head. The +billiard room, that addition of yours, can be turned into a chapel. And +the casements of the dreadful bow-window might be removed, and mullions +and tracery fixed on, and, instead of the present flat roof, a sloping +tiled roof might be carried up against the wall of the house. The +cloisters would come at the back of the chapel." + +John stopped aghast at the sorrow he was causing, and he looked at his +mother. She did not speak. Her ears were full of merciless ruins; hope +vanished in the white dust; and the house with its memories sacred and +sweet fell pitilessly: beams lying this way and that, the piece of +exposed wall with the well-known wall paper, the crashing of slates. How +they fall! John's heart was rent with grief, but he could not stay his +determination any more than his breath. Youth is a season of suffering, +we cannot surrender our desire, and it lies heavy and burning on our +hearts. It is so easy for age, so hard for youth to make sacrifices. +Youth is and must be wholly, madly selfish; it is not until we have +learnt the folly of our aims that we may forget them, that we may pity +the sufferings of others, that we may rejoice in the triumphs of our +friends. To the superficial therefore, John Norton will appear but the +incarnation of egotism and priggishness, but those who see deeper will +have recognised that he is one who has suffered bitterly, as bitterly +as the outcast who lies dead in his rags beneath the light of the +policeman's lantern. Mental and physical wants!--he who may know one may +not know the other: is not the absence of one the reason of the other? +Mental and physical wants! the two planes of suffering whence the great +divisions of mankind view and envy the other's destinies, as we view a +passing pageant, as those who stand on the decks of crossing ships gaze +regretfully back. + +Those who have suffered much physical want will never understand John +Norton; he will find commiseration only from those who have realised _à +priori_ the worthlessness of existence, the vileness of life; above all, +from those who, conscious of a sense of life's degradation, impetuously +desire their ideal--the immeasurable ideal which lies before them, +clear, heavenly, and crystalline; the sea into which they would plunge +their souls, but in whose benedictive waters they may only dip their +fingertips, and crossing themselves, pass up the aisle of human +tribulation. We suffer in proportion to our passions. But John Norton +had no passion, say they who see passion only in carnal dissipation. Yet +the passions of the spirit are more terrible than those of the flesh; +the passion for God, the passion of revolt against the humbleness of +life; and there is no peace until passion of whatever kind has wailed +itself out. + +Foolish are they who describe youth as a time of happiness; it is one of +fever and anguish. + +Beneath its apparent calm, there was never a stormier youth than John's. +The boy's heart that grieves to death for a chorus-girl, the little +clerk who mourns to madness for the bright life that flashes from the +point of sight of his high office stool, never felt more keenly the +nervous pain of desire and the lassitudes of resistance. You think John +Norton did not suffer in his imperious desire to pull down the home of +his fathers and build a monastery! Mrs Norton's grief was his grief, but +to stem the impulse that bore him along was too keen a pain to be +endured. His desire whelmed him like a wave; it filled his soul like a +perfume, and against his will it rose to his lips in words. Even when +the servants were present he could not help discussing the architectural +changes he had determined upon, and as the vision of the cloister, with +its reading and chanting monks, rose to his head, he talked, blinded by +strange enthusiasm, of latticed windows, and sandals. + +His mother bit her thin lips, and her face tightened in an expression of +settled grief. Kitty was sorry for Mrs Norton, but Kitty was too young +to understand, and her sorrow evaporated in laughter. She listened to +John's explanations of the future as to a fairy tale suddenly touched +with the magic of realism. That the old could not exist in conjunction +with the new order of things never grew into the painful precision of +thought in her mind. She saw but the show side; she listened as to an +account of private theatricals, and in spite of Mrs Norton's visible +grief, she was amused when John described himself walking at the head +of his monks with tonsured head and a great rosary hanging from a +leather girdle. Her innocent gaiety attracted her to him. As they walked +about the grounds after breakfast, he spoke to her about pictures and +statues, of a trip he intended to take to Italy and Spain, and he did +not seem to care to be reminded that this jarred with his project for +immediate realisation of Thornby Priory. + +Leaning their backs against the iron railing which divided the green +sward from the park, John and Kitty looked at the house. + +"From this view it really is not so bad, though the urns and the loggia +are so intolerably out of keeping with the landscape. But when I have +made my alterations it will harmonise with the downs and the +flat-flowing country, so English with its barns and cottages and rich +agriculture, and there will be then a charming recollection of old +England, the England of the monastic ages, before the--but I forgot, I +must not speak to you on that subject." + +"Do you think the house will look prettier than it does now? Mrs Norton +says that it will be impossible to alter Italian architecture into +Gothic.... Of course I don't understand." + +"Mother does not know what she is talking about. I have it all down in +my pocket-book. I have various plans.... I admit it is not easy, but +last night I fancy I hit on an idea. I shall of course consult an +architect, although really I don't see there is any necessity for so +doing, but just to be on the safe side; for in architecture there are +many practical difficulties, and to be on the safe side I will consult +an experienced man regarding the practical working out of my design. I +made this drawing last night." John produced a large pocket-book. + +"But, oh, how pretty; will it be really like that?" + +"Yes," exclaimed John, delighted; "it will be exactly like that; but I +will read you my notes, and then you will understand it better. + +"_Alter and add to the front to represent the façade of a small +cathedral. This can be done by building out a projection the entire +width of the building, and one storey in height. This will be divided +into three arched divisions, topped with small gables_." + +"What are gables, John?" + +"Those are the gables. _The centre one (forming entrance) being rather +higher than the other gables. The entrance would be formed with +clustered columns and richly moulded pointed arches, the door being +solid, heavy oak, with large scroll and hammered iron hinges_. + +"_The centre front and back would be carried up to form steep gables, +the roof being heightened to match. The large gable in front to have a +large cross at apex_." + +"What is an apex? What words you do use." + +John explained, Kitty laughed. + +"The top I have indicated in the drawing. _And to have a rose window_. +You see the rose window in the drawing," said John, anticipating the +question which was on Kitty's lips. + +"Yes," said she, "but why don't you say a round window?" + +Without answering John continued: + +"_The first floor fronts would be arcaded round with small columns with +carved capitals and pointed arches. + +"At either corner of front, in lieu of present Ionic columns, carry up +octagonal turrets with pinnacles at top_. + +"You see them in the drawing. These are the octagonal turrets." + +"And which are the pinnacles?" + +"The ornaments at the top. + +"_From the centre of the roof carry up a square tower with battlemented +parapets and pinnacles at all corners, and flying buttresses from the +turrets of the main buildings_. + +"_The bow window at side will have the old casements removed, and have +mullions and tracery fixed and filled with cathedral glazings, and, +instead of the present flat, a sloping roof will be carried up and +finished against the outer wall of the house. At either side of bay +window buttresses with moulded water-tables, plinths, &c._ + +"_From these roofs and the front projections at intersection of small +gables, carved gargoyles to carry off water_. + +"_The billiard-room to be converted into a chapel, by building a new +high-pitched roof_." + +"Oh, John, why should you do away with the billiard-room; why shouldn't +the monks play billiards? You played billiards on the day of the meet." + +"Yes, but I am not a monk yet. No one ever heard of monks playing +billiards; besides, that dreadful addition of my mother's could not +remain in its present form, it would be ludicrous to a degree, whereas +it can be converted very easily into a chapel. We must have a +chapel--_building a high-pitched timber roof, throwing out an apse at +the end, and putting in mullioned and traceried windows filled with +stained glass_." + +"And the cloister you are always speaking about, where will that be?" + +"The cloister will come at the back of the chapel, and an arched and +vaulted ambulatory will be laid round the house. Later on I shall add a +refectory, and put a lavatory at one end of the ambulatory." + +"But don't you think, John, you may get tired of being a monk, and then +the house will have to be built back again." + +"Never, the house will be from every point of view, a better house when +my alterations are carried into effect. Beside, why should I be tired of +being a monk? Your father does not get tired of being a parson." + +This reply, although singularly unconvincing, was difficult to answer, +and the conversation fell. And day by day, John's schemes strengthened +and took shape, and he seemed to look upon himself already as a +Carmelite. He had even gone so far as to order a habit, it had arrived +a few days ago; and an architect, too, had come down from London. He +was the ray of hope in Mrs Norton's life. For although he had loudly +commended the artistic taste exhibited in the drawing, and expressed +great wonderment at John's architectural skill, he had, nevertheless, +when questioned as to their practicability, declared the scheme to be +wholly impossible. And the reasons he advanced in support of his +opinions were so conclusive that John was fain to beg of him to draw up +a more possible plan for the conversion of an Italian house into a +Gothic monastery. + +Mr ---- seemed to think the idea a wild one, but he promised to see what +could be done to overcome the difficulties he foresaw, and in a week +he forwarded John several drawings for his consideration. Judged by +comparison with John's dreams, the practical architecture of the +experienced man seemed altogether lacking in expression and in poetry +of proportion; and comparing them with his own cherished project, John +hung over the billiard-table, where the drawings were laid out, hour +after hour, only to rise more bitterly fretful, more utterly unable than +usual to reconcile himself to natural limitation, more hopelessly +longing for the unattainable. + +He could think of nothing but his monastery; his Latin authors were +forgotten; he drew façades and turrets on the cloth during dinner, and +he went up to his room, not to bed, but to reconsider the difficulties +that rendered the construction of a central tower an impossibility. + +Midnight: the house seems alive in the silence: night is on the world. +The twilight sheds on the walking birds, on the falling petals, and in +the rich shadow the candle burns brightly. The great bridal bed yawns, +the lace pillows lie wide, the curtains hang dreamily in the hallowed +light. John leans over his drawings. Once again he takes up the +architect's notes. + +"_The interior would be so constructed as to make it impossible to +carry up the central tower. The outer walls would not be strong enough +to take the large gables and roof. Although the chapel could be done +easily, the ambulatory would be of no use, as it would lead probably +from the kitchen offices._ + +"_Would have to reduce work on front façade to putting in new arched +entrance. Buttresses would take the place of columns_. + +"_The bow-window could remain_. + +"_The roof to be heightened somewhat. The front projection would throw +the front rooms into almost total darkness_." + +"But why not a light timber lantern tower?" thought John. "Yes, that +would get over the difficulty. Now if we could only manage to keep my +front ... if my design for the front cannot be preserved, I might as well +abandon the whole thing! And then?" + +And then life seemed to him void of meaning and light. He might as well +settle down and marry.... + +His face contracted in an expression of anger. He rose from the table, +and he looked round the room. Its appearance was singularly jarring, +shattering as it did his dream of the cloister, and up-building in fancy +the horrid fabric of marriage and domesticity. The room seemed to him a +symbol--with the great bed, voluptuous, the corpulent arm-chair, the +toilet-table shapeless with muslin--of the hideous laws of the world +and the flesh, ever at variance and at war, and ever defeating the +indomitable aspirations of the soul. John ordered his room to be +changed; and, in the face of much opposition from his mother, who +declared that he would never be able to sleep there, and would lose his +health, he selected a narrow room at the end of the passage. He would +have no carpet. He placed a small iron bed against the wall; two plain +chairs, a screen to keep off the draught from the door, a basin-stand +such as you might find in a ship's cabin, and a prie-dieu, were all the +furniture he permitted himself. + +"Oh, what a relief!" he murmured. "Now there is line, there is definite +shape. That formless upholstery frets my eye as false notes grate on my +ear;" and, becoming suddenly conscious of the presence of God, he fell +on his knees and prayed. He prayed that he might be guided aright in his +undertaking, and that, if it were conducive to the greater honour and +glory of God, he might be permitted to found a monastery, and that he +might be given strength to surmount all difficulties. + +Next morning, calm in mind, and happier, he went downstairs to the +drawing-room, a small book in his hand, an historical work of great +importance by the Venerable Bede, intitled _Vita beatorum abbatum +Wiremuthensium, et Girvensiuem, Benedicti Ceolfridi, Easteriwini, +Sigfridi atque Hoetberti_. But he could not keep his attention fixed on +the book, it appeared to him dreary and stupid. His thoughts wandered. +He thought of Kitty--of how beautiful she looked on the background of +red geraniums, with the soft yellow cat on her shoulder, and he wondered +which of the four great painters, Manet, Degas, Monet, or Renoir would +have best rendered the brightness and lightness, the intense colour +vitality of that motive for a picture. He thought of her young eyes, of +the pale hands, of the sudden, sharp laugh; and finally he took up one +of her novels, "Red as a Rose is She." He read it, and found it very +entertaining. + +But the evening post brought him a letter from the architect's head +clerk, saying that Mr ---- was ill, had not been to the office for the +last three or four days, and would not be able to go down to Sussex +again before the end of the month. Very much annoyed, John spent the +evening thinking whom he could consult on the practicability of his last +design for the front, and next, morning he was surprised at not seeing +Kitty at breakfast. + +"Where is Kitty?" he asked abruptly. + +"She is not feeling well; she has a headache, and will not be down +to-day." + +At the end of a long silence, John said: + +"I think I will go into Brighton.... I must really see an architect." + +"Oh, John, dear, you are not really determined to pull the house down?" + +"There is no use, mother dear, in our discussing that subject; each and +all of us must do the best we can with life. And the best we can do is +to try and gain heaven." + +"Breaking your mother's heart, and making yourself ridiculous before the +whole county, is not the way to gain heaven." + +"Oh, if you are going to talk like that...." + +John went into the drawing-room to continue his reading, but the Latin +bored him even more than it had done yesterday. He took up the novel, +but its enchantment was gone, and it appeared to him in its tawdry, +original vulgarity. He got on a horse and rode towards the downs, and +went up the steep ascents at a gallop. He stood amid the gorse at the +top and viewed the great girdle of blue encircling sea, and the long +string of coast towns lying below him, and far away. Lunch was on the +table when he returned. After lunch, harassed by an obsession of +architectural plans, he went out to sketch. But it rained, and resisting +his mother's invitation to change his clothes, he sat down before the +fire, damp without, and feverishly irritable within. He vacillated an +hour between his translation of St Fortunatus' hymn, _Quem terra, pontus +aethera_, and "Red as a Rose is She," which, although he thought it as +reprehensible for moral as for literary reasons, he was fain to follow +out to the vulgar end. But he could interest himself in neither hymn nor +novel. For the authenticity of the former he now cared not a jot, and he +threw the book aside vowing that its hoydenish heroine was unbearable +and he would read no more. + +"I never knew a more horrible place to live in than Sussex. Either of +two things: I must alter the architecture of this house, or I must +return to Stanton College." + +"Don't talk nonsense, do you think I don't know you? you are boring +yourself because Kitty is upstairs in bed, and cannot walk about with +you." + +"I do not know how you contrive, mother, always to say the most +disagreeable possible things; the marvellous way in which you pick out +what will, at the moment, wound me most is truly wonderful. I compliment +you on your skill, but I confess I am at a loss to understand why you +should, as if by right, expect me to remain here to serve continuously +as a target for the arrows of your scorn." + +John walked out of the room. During dinner mother and son spoke very +little, and he retired early, about ten o'clock, to his room. He was in +high dudgeon, but the white walls, the prie-dieu, the straight, narrow +bed were pleasant to see. His room was the first agreeable impression +of the day. He picked up a drawing from the table, it seemed to him +awkward and slovenly. He sharpened his pencil, cleared his crow-quill +pens, got out his tracing-paper, and sat down to execute a better. But +he had not finished his outline sketch before he leaned back in his +chair, and as if overcome by the insidious warmth of the fire, lapsed +into fire-light attitudes and meditations. + +He looked a little backwards into the blaze; he nibbled his pencil +point. Wavering light and wavering shade followed fast over the Roman +profile, followed and flowed fitfully--fitfully as his thoughts. Now his +thought followed out architectural dreams, and now he thought of +himself, of his unhappy youth, of how he had been misunderstood, of his +solitary life; a bitter, unsatisfactory life, and yet a life not wanting +in an ideal--a glorious ideal. He thought how his projects had always +met with failure, with disapproval, above all failure ... and yet, and +yet he felt, he almost knew there was something great and noble in him. +His eyes brightened; he slipped into thinking of schemes for a monastic +life; and then he thought of his mother's hard disposition and how she +misunderstood him,--everyone misunderstood him. What would the end be? +Would he succeed in creating the monastery he dreamed of so fondly? To +reconstruct the ascetic life of the Middle Ages, that would be something +worth doing, that would be a great ideal--that would make meaning in his +life. If he failed ... what should he do then? His life as it was, was +unbearable ... he must come to terms with life.... + +That central tower! how could he manage it! and that built-out front. +Was it true, as the architect said, that it would throw all the front +rooms into darkness? Without this front his design would be worthless. +What a difference it made! + +Kitty liked it. She had thought it charming. How young she was, how +glad and how innocent, and how clever, her age being taken into +consideration. She understood all you said. It would not surprise him if +she developed into something: but she would marry.... + +But why was he thinking of her? What concern had she in his life? A +little slip of a girl--a girl--a girl more or less pretty, that was all. +And yet it was pleasant to hear her laugh. That low, sudden laugh--she +was pleasanter company than his mother, she was pleasant to have in the +house, she interrupted many an unpleasant scene. Then he remembered what +his mother had said. She had said that he was disappointed that she was +ill, that he had missed her, that ... that it was because she was not +there that he had found the day so intolerably wearisome. + +Struck as with a dagger, the pain of the wound flowed through him +piercingly; and as a horse stops and stands trembling, for there is +something in the darkness beyond, John shrank back, his nerves +vibrating like highly-strung chords; and ideas--notes of regret and +lamentation died in great vague spaces. Ideas fell.... Was this all; was +this all he had struggled for; was he in love? A girl, a girl ... was a +girl to soil the ideal he had in view? No; he smiled painfully. The sea +of his thoughts grew calmer, the air grew dim and wan, a tall foundered +wreck rose pale and spectral, memories drifted. The long walks, the +talks of the monastery, the neighbours, the pet rooks, and Sammy the +great yellow cat, and the green-houses ... he remembered the pleasure he +had taken in those conversations! + +What must all this lead to? To a coarse affection, to marriage, to +children, to general domesticity. + +And contrasted with this.... + +The dignified and grave life of the cloister, the constant sensation of +lofty and elevating thought, a high ideal, the communion of learned men, +the charm of headship. + +Could he abandon this? No, a thousand times no; but there was a melting +sweetness in the other cup. The anticipation filled his veins with +fever. + +And trembling and pale with passion, John fell on his knees and prayed +for grace. But prayer was sour and thin upon his lips, and he could only +beg that the temptation might pass from him.... + +"In the morning," he said, "I shall be strong." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But if in the morning he were strong, Kitty was more beautiful than +ever, and they walked out in the sunlight. They walked out on the green +sward, under the evergreen oaks where the young rooks are swinging; out +on the mundane swards into the pleasure ground; a rosery and a rockery; +the pleasure ground divided from the park by iron railings, the park +encircled by the rich elms, the elms shutting out the view of the lofty +downs. + +The meadows are yellow with buttercups, and the birds fly out of the +gold. And the golden note is prolonged through the pleasure grounds by +the pale yellow of the laburnums, by the great yellow of the berberis, +by the cadmium yellow of the gorse, by the golden wallflowers growing +amid rhododendrons and laurels. + +And the transparent greenery of the limes shivers, and the young rooks +swinging on the branches caw feebly. + +And about the rockery there are purple bunches of lilac, and the striped +awning of the tennis seat touches with red the paleness of the English +spring. + +Pansies, pale yellow pansies! + +The sun glinting on the foliage of the elms spreads a napery of vivid +green, and the trunks come out black upon the cloth of gold, and the +larks fly out of the gold, and the sky is a single sapphire, and two +white clouds are floating. It is May time. + +They walked toward the tennis seat with its red striped awning. They +listened to the feeble cawing of young rooks swinging on the branches. +They watched the larks nestle in, and fly out of the gold. It was May +time, and the air was bright with buds and summer bees. She was dressed +in white, and the shadow of the straw hat fell across her eyes when she +raised her face. He was dressed in black, and the clerical frock coat +buttoned by one button at the throat fell straight. + +They sat under the red striped awning of the tennis seat. The large +grasping hands holding the polished cane contrasted with the reedy +translucent hands laid upon the white folds. The low sweet breath of the +May time breathed within them, and their hearts were light; hers was +conscious only of the May time, but his was awake with unconscious love, +and he yielded to her, to the perfume of the garden, to the absorbing +sweetness of the moment. He was no longer John Norton. His being was +part of the May time; it had gone forth and had mingled with the colour +of the fields and sky; with the life of the flowers, with all vague +scents and sounds; with the joy of the birds that flew out of and +nestled with amorous wings in the gold. Enraptured and in complete +forgetfulness of his vows, he looked at her, he felt his being +quickening, and the dark dawn of a late nubility radiated into manhood. + +"How beautiful the day is," he said, speaking slowly. "Is it not all +light and colour, and you in your white dress with the sunlight on your +hair seem more blossom-like than any flower. I wonder what flower I +should compare you to.... Shall I say a rose? No, not a rose, nor a +lily, nor a violet; you remind me rather of a tall delicate pale +carnation...." + +"Why, John, I never heard you speak like that before; I thought you +never paid compliments." + +The transparent green of the limes shivers, the young rooks caw feebly, +and the birds nestle with amorous wings in the blossoming gold. Kitty +has taken off her straw hat, the sunlight caresses the delicate +plenitudes of the bent neck, the delicate plenitudes bound with white +cambric, cambric swelling gently over the bosom into the narrow circle +of the waist, cambric fluted to the little wrist, reedy translucid +hands; cambric falling outwards and flowing like a great white flower +over the green sward, over the mauve stocking, and the little shoe set +firmly. The ear is as a rose leaf, a fluff of light hair trembles on the +curving nape, and the head is crowned with thick brown gold. "O to bathe +my face in those perfumed waves! O to kiss with a deep kiss the hollow +of that cool neck!..." The thought came he know not whence nor how, as +lightning falls from a clear sky, as desert horsemen come with a glitter +of spears out of the cloud; there is a shock, a passing anguish, and +they are gone. + +He left her. So frightened was he at this sudden and singular obsession +of his spiritual nature by a lower and grosser nature, whose existence +in himself was till now unsuspected, and of whose life and wants in +others he had felt, and still felt, so much scorn, that in the tumult of +his loathing he could not gain the calm of mind necessary for an +examination of conscience. He could not look into his mind with any +present hope of obtaining a truthful reply to the very eminent and vital +question, how far his will had participated in that burning but wholly +inexcusable desire by which he had been so shockingly assailed. + +That inner life, so strangely personal and pure, and of which he was so +proud, seemed to him now to be befouled, and all its mystery and inner +grace, and the perfect possession which was his sanctuary, lost to him +for ever. For he could never quite forget the defiling thought; it would +always remain with him, and the consciousness of the stain would +preclude all possibility of that refining happiness, that attribute of +cleanliness, which he now knew had long been his. In his anger and +self-loathing his rage turned against Kitty. It was always the same +story--the charm and ideality of man's life always soiled by woman's +influence; so it was in the beginning, so it shall be.... + +He stopped before the injustice of the accusation; he remembered her +candour and her gracious innocence, and he was sorry; and he remembered +her youth and her beauty, and he let his thoughts dwell upon her. +Turning over his papers he came across the old monk's song to David: + + "Surge meo domno dulces fac, fistula versus: + David amat versus, surge fac fistula versus, + David amat vates vatorum est gloria David...." + +The verses seemed meaningless and tame, but they awoke vague impulses in +him, and, his mind filled by a dim dream of King David and Bathsheba, he +opened his Bible and turned over the pages, reading a phrase here and +there until he had passed from story and psalm to the Song of songs, and +was finally stopped by--"I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye +find my beloved, that ye tell him that I am sick of love." + +He laid the book down and leaned back in his chair, and holding his +temple with one hand (this was his favourite attitude) he looked in the +fire fixedly. He was ravaged by emotion. The magical fervour of the +words he had just read had revealed to him the depth of his passion. + +But he would tear the temptation out of his heart. The conduct of his +life had been long ago determined upon. He had known the truth as if by +instinct from the first; no life was possible except an ascetic life, at +least for him. And in this hour of weakness he summoned to his aid all +his ancient ideals: the solemnity and twilight of the arches, the +massive Gregorian chant which seems to be at once their voice and their +soul, the cloud of incense melting upon the mitres and sunsets, and the +boys' treble hovering over an ocean of harmony. But although the picture +of his future life rose at his invocation it did not move him as +heretofore, nor did the scenes he evoked of conjugal grossness and +platitude shock him to the extent he had expected. The moral rebellion +he succeeded in exciting was tepid, heartless, and ineffective, and he +was not moved by hate or fear until he remembered that God in His +infinite goodness had placed him for ever out of the temptation which he +so earnestly sought to escape from. Kitty was a Protestant. In a pang +of despair, windows and organ collapsed like cardboard; incense and +arches vanished, and then rose again with the light of a more gracious +vision upon them. For if the dignity and desire of mere self-salvation +had departed, all the lighter colours and livelier joys of the +conversion of others filled the sky of faith with morning tones and +harmonies. And then?... Salvation before all things, he answered in his +enthusiasm;--something of the missionary spirit of old time was upon +him, and forgetful of his aisles, his arches, his Latin authors, he went +down stairs and asked Kitty to play a game of billiards. + +"We play billiards here on Sunday, but you would think it wrong to do +so." + +"But to-day is not Sunday." + +"No, I was only speaking in a general way. Yet I often wonder how you +can feel satisfied with the protection your Church affords you against +the miseries and trials of the world. A Protestant, you know, may +believe pretty nearly as little or as much as he likes, whereas in our +church everything is defined; we know what we must believe to be saved. +There is a sense of security in the Catholic Church which the Protestant +has not." + +"Do you think so? That is because you do not know our Church," replied +Kitty, who was a little astonished at this sudden outburst. "I feel +quite happy and safe. I know that our Lord Jesus Christ died on the +Cross to save us, and we have the Bible to guide us." + +"Yes, but the Bible without the interpretation of the Church is ... may +lead to error. For instance..." + +John stopped abruptly. Seized with a sudden scruple of conscience he +asked himself if he, in his own house, had a right to strive to +undermine the faith of the daughter of his own friend. + +"Go on," cried Kitty, laughing, "I know the Bible better than you, +and if I break down I will ask father." And as if to emphasise her +intention, she hit her ball which was close under the cushion as hard as +she could. + +John hailed the rent in the cloth as a deliverance, for in the +discussion as to how it could be repaired, the religious question was +forgotten. + +But if he were her lover, if she were going to be his wife, he would +have the right to offer her every facility and encouragement to enter +the Catholic Church--the true faith. Darkness passes, and the birds are +carolling the sun, flowers and trees are pranked with aerial jewellery, +the fragrance of the warm earth flows in your veins, your eyes are fain +of the light above and your heart of the light within. He would not jar +his happiness by the presence of Mrs Norton, even Kitty's presence was +too actual a joy to be home. She drew him out of himself too completely, +interrupted the exquisite sense of personal enchantment which seemed to +permeate and flow through him with the sweetness of health returning to +a convalescent on a spring day. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts +came and went like soft light and shade in a garden close; his happiness +was a part of himself, as fragrance is inherent in the summer time. +The evil of the last days had fallen from him, and the reaction was +equivalently violent. Nor was he conscious of the formal resignation he +was now making of his dream, nor did he think of the distasteful load of +marital duties with which he was going to burden himself; all was lost +in the vision of beautiful companionship, a sort of heavenly journeying, +a bright earthly way with flowers and starlight--he a little in advance +pointing, she following, with her eyes lifted to the celestial gates +shining in the distance. Sometimes his arms would be thrown about her. +Sometimes he would press a kiss upon her face. She was his, his, and he +was her saviour. The evening died, the room darkened, and John's dream +continued in the twilight, and the ringing of the dinner bell and the +disturbance of dressing did not destroy his thoughts. Like fumes of +wine they hung about him during the evening, and from time to time he +looked at Kitty. + +But although he had so far surrendered himself, he did not escape +without another revulsion of feeling. A sudden realisation of what his +life would be under the new conditions did not fail to frighten him, and +he looked back with passionate regret on his abandoned dreams. But his +nature was changed, abstention he knew was beyond his strength, and +after many struggles, each of which was feebler than the last, he +determined to propose to Kitty on the first suitable occasion. + +Then came the fear of refusal. Often he was paralysed with pain, +sometimes he would morbidly allow his thoughts to dwell on the moment +when he would hear her say, it was impossible, that she did not and +could not love him. The young grey light of the eyes would be fixed upon +him; she would speak her sorrow, and her thin hands would hang by her +side in the simple attitude that was so peculiar to her. And he mused +willingly on the long meek life of grief that would then await him. He +would belong to God; his friar's frock would hide all; it would be the +habitation, and the Gothic walls he would raise, the sepulchre of his +love.... + +"But no, no, she shall be mine," he cried out, moved in his very +entrails. Why should she refuse him? What reason had he to believe that +she would not have him? He thought of how she had answered his questions +on this and that occasion, how she had looked at him; he recalled every +gesture and every movement with wonderful precision, and then he lapsed +into a passionate consideration of the general attitude of mind she +evinced towards him. He arrived at no conclusion, but these meditations +were full of penetrating delight. Sometimes he was afflicted with an +intense shyness, and he avoided her; and when Mrs Norton, divining his +trouble, sent them to walk in the garden, his heart warmed to his +mother, and he regretted his past harshness. + +And this idyll was lived about the beautiful Italian house, with its +urns and pilasters; through the beautiful English park, with its elms +now with the splendour of summer upon them; in the pleasure grounds with +their rosary, and the fountain where the rose leaves float, and the +wood-pigeons come at eventide to drink; in the greenhouse with its live +glare of geraniums, where the great yellow cat, so soft and beautiful, +springs on Kitty's shoulder, rounds its back, and purring, insists on +caresses; in the large clean stables where the horses munch the corn +lazily, and look round with round inquiring eyes, and the rooks croak +and flutter, and strut about Kitty's feet. It was Kitty; yes, it was +Kitty everywhere; even the blackbird darting through the laurels seemed +to cry Kitty. + +To propose! Time, place, and the words he should use had been carefully +considered. After each deliberation, a new decision had been taken: +but when he came to the point, John found himself unable to speak +any one of the different versions he had prepared. Still he was very +happy. The days were full of sunshine and Kitty, and he mistook her +light-heartedness for affection. He had begun to look upon her as his +certain wife, although no words had been spoken that would suggest such +a possibility. Outside of his imagination nothing was changed; he stood +in exactly the same relation to her as he had done when he returned from +Stanton College, determined to build a Gothic monastery upon the ruins +of Thornby Place, and yet somehow he found it difficult to realise that +this was so. + +One morning he said, as they went into the garden, "You must sometimes +feel a little lonely here ... when I am away ... all alone here with +mother." + +"Oh dear no! we have lots to do. I look after the pets in the morning. +I feed the cats and the rooks, and I see that the canaries have fresh +water and seed. And then the bees take up a lot of our time. We have +twenty-two hives. Mrs Norton says she ought to make five pounds a year +on each. Sometimes we lose a swarm or two, and then Mrs Norton is so +cross. We were out for hours with the gardener the other day, but we +could do no good; we could not get them out of that elm tree. You see +that long branch leaning right over the wall; well it was on that branch +that they settled, and no ladder was tall enough to reach them; and when +Bill climbed the tree and shook them out they flew right away." + +"Shall I, shall I propose to her now?" thought John. But Kitty continued +talking, and it was difficult to interrupt her. The gravel grated under +their feet; the rooks were flying about the elms. At the end of the +garden there was a circle of fig trees. A silent place, and John vowed +he would say the word there. But as they approached his courage died +within him, and he was obliged to defer his vows until they reached the +green-house. + +"So your time is fully occupied here." + +"And in the afternoon we go out for drives; we pay visits. You never +pay visits; you never go and call on your neighbours." + +"Oh, yes I do; I went the other day to see your father." + +"Ah yes, but that is only because he talks to you about Latin authors." + +"No, I assure you it isn't. Once I have finished my book I shall never +look at them again." + +"Well, what will you do?" + +"Next winter I intend to go in for hunting. I have told a dealer to look +out for a couple of nice horses for me." + +Kitty looked up, her grey eyes wide open. If John had told her that he +had given the order for a couple of crocodiles she could not have been +more surprised. + +"But hunting is over now; it won't begin again till next November. You +will have to play lawn tennis this summer." + +"I have sent to London for a racquet and shoes, and a suit of flannels." + +"Goodness me.... Well, that is a surprise! But you won't want the +flannels; you might play in the Carmelite's habit which came down the +other day. How you do change your mind about things!" + +"Do you never change your mind, Kitty?" + +"Well, I don't know, but not so suddenly as you. Then you are not going +to become a monk?" + +"I don't know, it depends on circumstances." + +"What circumstances?" said Kitty, innocently. + +The words "_whether you will or will not have me_" rose to John's lips, +but all power to speak them seemed to desert him; he had grown suddenly +as weak as melting snow, and in an instant the occasion had passed. He +hated himself for his weakness. The weary burden of his love lay still +upon him, and the torture of utterance still menaced him from afar. The +conversation had fallen. They were approaching the greenhouse, and the +cats ran to meet their patron. Sammy sprang on Kitty's shoulder. + +"Oh, isn't he a beauty? stroke him, do." + +John passed his hand along the beautiful yellow fur. Sammy rubbed his +head against his mistress' face, her raised eyes were as full of light +as the pale sky, and the rich brown head and the thin hands made a +picture in the exquisite clarity of the English morning,--in the +homeliness of the English garden, with tall hollyhocks, espalier apple +trees, and one labourer digging amid the cabbages. Joy crystal as the +morning itself illumined John's mind for a moment, and then faded, and +he was left lonely with the remembrance that his fate had still to be +decided, that it still hung in the scale. + +One evening as they were walking in the park, shadowy in the twilight of +an approaching storm, Kitty said: + +"I never would have believed, John, that you could care to go out for a +walk with me." + +"And why, Kitty?" + +Kitty laughed--her short sudden laugh was strange and sweet. John's +heart was beating. "Well," she said, without the faintest hesitation or +shyness, "we always thought you hated girls. I know I used to tease you, +when you came home for the first time; when you used to think of nothing +but the Latin authors." + +"What do you mean?" + +Kitty laughed again. + +"You promise not to tell?" + +"I promise." + +This was their first confidence. + +"You told your mother when I came, when you were sitting by the fire +reading, that the flutter of my skirts disturbed you." + +"No, Kitty, I'm sure you never disturbed me, or at least not for a long +time. I wish my mother would not repeat conversations, it is most +unfair." + +"Mind you, you promised not to repeat what I have told you. If you do, +you will get me into an awful scrape." + +"I promise." + +The conversation came to a pause. Presently Kitty said, "But you seem to +have got over your dislike to girls. I saw you talking a long while with +Miss Orme the other day; and at the Meet you seemed to admire her. She +was the prettiest girl we had here." + +"No, indeed she wasn't!" + +"Who was, then?" + +"You were." + +Kitty looked up; and there was so much astonishment in her face that +John in a sudden access of fear said, "We had better make haste, the +storm is coming on; we shall get wet through." + +They ran towards the house. John reproached himself bitterly, but +he made no further attempt to screw his courage up to the point +of proposing. His disappointment was followed by doubts. Was his +powerlessness a sign from God that he was abandoning his true vocation +for a false one? and a little shaken, he attempted to interest himself +in the re-building of his house; but the project had grown impossible to +him, and he felt he could not embrace it again, with any of the old +enthusiasm at least, until he had been refused by Kitty. There were +moments when he almost yearned to hear her say that she could never love +him. But in his love and religious suffering the thought of bringing a +soul home to the true fold remained a fixed light; he often looked to it +with happy eyes, and then if he were alone he fell on his knees and +prayed. Prayer like an opiate calmed his querulous spirit, and having +told his beads--the great beads which hung on his prie-dieu--he would go +down stairs with peace in his heart, and finding Kitty, he would ask her +to walk with him in the garden, or they would stroll out on the tennis +lawn, racquet in hand. + +One afternoon it was decided that they should go for a long walk. John +suggested that they should climb to the top of Toddington Mount, and +view the immense plain which stretches away in dim blue vapour and a +thousand fields. + +You see John and Kitty as they cross the wide park towards the vista in +the circling elms,--she swinging her parasol, he carrying stiffly his +grave canonical cane. He still wears the long black coat buttoned at the +throat, but the air of hieratic dignity is now replaced by, or rather it +is glossed with, the ordinary passion of life. Both are like children, +infinitely amused by the colour of the grass and sky, by the hurry of +the startled rabbit, by the prospect of the long walk; and they taste +already the wild charm of the downs, seeing and hearing in imagination +its many sights and sounds, the wild heather, the yellow savage gorse, +the solitary winding flock, the tinkling of the bell-wether, the +cliff-like sides, the crowns of trees, the mighty distance spread out +like a sea below them with its faint and constantly dissolving horizon +of the Epsom Hills. + +"I never can cross this plain, Kitty, without thinking of the Dover +cliffs as seen in mid Channel; this is a mere inland imitation of them." + +"I have never seen the Dover cliffs; I have never been out of England, +but the Brighton cliffs give me an idea of what you mean." + +"On your side--the Shoreham side--the downs rise in a gently sloping +ascent from the sea." + +"Yes, we often walk up there. You can see Brighton and Southwick and +Worthing. Oh! it is beautiful! I often go for a walk there with my +friends, the Austen girls--you saw them here at the Meet." + +"Yes, Mr Austen has a very nice property; it extends right into the town +of Shoreham, does it not?" + +"Yes, and right up to Toddington Mount, where we are going. But aren't +you a little tired, John? These roads are very steep." + +"Out of breath, Kitty; let's stop for a minute or two." The country lay +below them. They had walked three miles, and Thornby Place and its elms +were now vague in the blue evening. "We must see one of these days if we +cannot do the whole distance." + +"What? right across the downs from Shoreham to Henfield?" + +"Well, it is not more than eight miles; you don't think you could manage +it?" + +"I don't know, it is more than eight miles, and walking on the downs is +not like walking on the highroad. Father thinks nothing of it." + +"We must really try it." + +"What would you do if I were to get so tired that I could not go back or +forward?" + +"I would carry you." + +They continued their climb. Speaking of the Devil's Dyke, Kitty said-- + +"What! you mean to say you never heard the legend? You, a Sussex man!" + +"I have lived very little in Sussex, and I used to hate the place; I am +only just beginning to like it." + +"And you don't like the Jesuits any more, because they go in for +matchmaking." + +"They are too sly for me, I confess; I don't approve of priests meddling +in family affairs. But tell me the legend." + +"Oh, how steep these roads are. At last, at last. Now let's try and find +a place where we can sit down. The grass is full of that horrid prickly +gorse." + +"Here's a nice soft place; there is no gorse here. Now tell me the +legend." + +"Well, I never!" said Kitty, sitting herself on the spot that had been +chosen for her, "you do astonish me. You never heard of the legend of St +Cuthman." + +"No, do tell it to me." + +"Well, I scarcely know how to tell it in ordinary words, for I learnt it +in poetry." + +"In poetry! In whose poetry?" + +"Evy Austen put it into poetry, the eldest of the girls, and they made +me recite it at the harvest supper." + +"Oh, that's awfully jolly--I never should have thought she was so +clever. Evy is the dark-haired one." + +"Yes, Evy is awfully clever; but she doesn't talk much about it." + +"Do recite it." + +"I don't know that I can remember it all. You won't laugh if I break +down." + +"I promise." + + THE LEGEND OF ST CUTHMAN. + + "St Cuthman stood on a point which crowns + The entire range of the grand South Downs; + Beneath his feet, like a giant field, + Was stretched the expanse of the Sussex Weald. + 'Suppose,' said the Saint,''twas the will of Heaven + To cause this range of hills to be riven, + And what were the use of prayers and whinings, + Were the sea to flood the village of Poynings: + 'Twould be fine, no doubt, these Downs to level, + But to do such a thing I defy the Devil!' + St Cuthman, tho' saint, was a human creature, + And his eye, a bland and benevolent feature, + Remarked the approach of the close of day, + And he thought of his supper, and turned away. + Walking fast, he + Had scarcely passed the + First steps of his way, when he saw something nasty; + 'Twas tall and big, + And he saw from its rig + 'Twas the Devil in full diabolical fig. + There were wanting no proofs, + For the horns and the hoofs + And the tail were a fully convincing sight; + But the heart of the Saint + Ne'er once turned faint, + And his halo shone with redoubled light. + 'Hallo, I fear + You're trespassing here!' + Said St Cuthman, 'To me it is perfectly clear, + If you talk of the devil, he's sure to appear!' + 'With my spade and my pick + I am come,' said old Nick, + 'To prove you've no power o'er a demon like me. + I'll show you my power-- + Ere the first morning hour + Thro' the Downs, over Poynings, shall roll in the sea.' + 'I'll give you long odds,' + Cried the Saint, 'by the gods! + I'll stake what you please, only say what your wish is.' + Said the devil, 'By Jove! + You're a sporting old cove! + My pick to your soul, + I'll make such a hole, + That where Poynings now stands, shall be swimming the fishes.' + 'Done!' cried the Saint, 'but I must away + I have a penitent to confess; + In an hour I'll come to see fair play-- + In truth I cannot return in less. + My bet will be won ere the first bright ray + Heralds the ascension of the day. + If I lose!--there will be _the devil to pay!_' + He descended the hill with a firm quick stride, + Till he reached a cell which stood on the side; + He knocked at the door, and it opened wide,-- + He murmured a blessing and walked inside. + Before him he saw a tear-stained face + Of an elderly maiden of elderly grace; + Who, when she beheld him, turned deadly pale, + And drew o'er her features a nun's black veil. + 'Holy father!' she said, 'I have one sin more, + Which I should have confessed sixty years before! + I have broken my vows--'tis a terrible crime! + I have loved _you_, oh father, for all that time! + My passion I cannot subdue, tho' I try! + Shrive me, oh father! and let me die!' + 'Alas, my daughter,' replied the Saint, + 'One's desire is ever to do what one mayn't, + There was once a time when I loved you, too, + I have conquered my passion, and why shouldn't you? + For penance I say, + You must kneel and pray + For hours which will number seven; + Fifty times say the rosary, + (Fifty, 'twill be a poser, eh?) + But by it you'll enter heaven; + As each hour doth pass, + Turn the hour glass, + Till the time of midnight's near; + On the stroke of midnight + This taper light, + Your conscience will then be clear.' + He left the cell, and he walked until + He joined Old Nick on the top of the hill. + It was five o'clock, and the setting sun + Showed the work of the Devil already begun. + St Cuthman was rather fatigued by his walk, + And caring but little for brimstone talk, + He watched the pick crash through layers of chalk. + And huge blocks went over and splitting asunder + Broke o'er the Weald like the crashing of thunder. + St Cuthman wished the first hour would pass, + When St Ursula, praying, reversed the glass. + 'Ye legions of hell!' the Old Gentleman cried, + 'I have such a terrible stitch in the side!' + 'Don't work so hard,' said the Saint, 'only see, + The sides of your dyke a heap smoother might be.' + 'Just so,' said the Devil, 'I've had a sharp fit, + So, resting, I'll trim up my crevice a bit.' + St Cuthman was looking prodigiously sly, + He knew that the hours were slipping by. + 'Another attack! + I've cramp at my back! + I've needles and pins + From my hair to my shins! + I tremble and quail + From my horns to my tail! + I will not be vanquished, I'll work, I say, + This dyke shall be finished ere break of day!' + 'If you win your bet, 'twill be fairly earned,' + Said the Saint, and again was the hour-glass turned. + And then with a most unearthly din + The farther end of the dyke fell in; + But in spite of an awful rheumatic pain + The Devil began his work again. + 'I'll not be vanquished!' exclaimed the old bloke. + 'By breathing torrents of flame and smoke, + Your dyke,' said the Saint, 'is hindered each minute, + What can one expect when the Devil is in it?' + Then an accident happened, which caused Nick at last + To rage, fume, and swear; when the fourth hour had passed, + On his hoof there came rolling a huge mass of quartz. + Then quite out of sorts + The bad tempered old cove + Sent the huge mass of stone whizzing over to Hove. + He worked on again, till a howl and a cry + Told the Saint one more hour--the fifth--had gone by. + 'What's the row?' asked the Saint, 'A cramp in the wrist, + I think for a while I had better desist.' + Having rested a bit he worked at his chasm, + Till, the hour having passed, he was seized with a spasm. + He raged and he cursed, + 'I bore this at first, + The rheumatics were awful, but this is the worst.' + With awful rage heated, + The demon defeated, + In his passion used words that can't be repeated. + Feeling shaken and queer, + In spite of his fear, + At the dyke he worked on until midnight drew near. + But when the glass turned for the last time, he found + That the head of his pick was stuck fast in the ground. + 'Cease now!' cried St Cuthman, 'vain is your toil! + Come forth from the dyke! Leave your pick in the soil! + You agreed to work 'tween sunset and morn, + And lo! the glimmer of day is born! + In vain was your fag, + And your senseless brag.' + Dizzy and dazed with sulphureous vapour, + Old Nick was deceived by St Ursula's taper. + 'The dawn!' yelled the Devil, 'in vain was my boast, + That I'd have your soul, for I've lost it, I've lost!' + 'Away!' cried St Cuthman, 'Foul fiend! away! + See yonder approaches the dawn of day! + Return to the flames where you were before, + And molest these peaceful South Downs no more!' + The old gentleman scowled but dared not stay, + And the prints of his hoofs remain to this day, + Where he spread his dark pinions and soared away. + At St Ursula's cell + Was tolling the bell, + And St Cuthman in sorrow, stood there by her side. + 'Twas over at last, + Her sorrows were past, + In the moment of triumph St Ursula died. + Tho' this was the ground, + There never were found + The tools of the Devil, his spade and his pick; + But if you want proof + Of the Legend, the hoof- + Marks are still in the hillock last trod by Old Nick." + +"Oh! that is jolly. Well, I never thought the girl was clever enough to +write that. And there are some excellent rhymes in it, 'passed he' +rhyming with 'nasty,' and 'rosary' with 'poser, eh;' and how well you +recite it." + +"Oh, I recited it better at the harvest supper; and you have no idea how +the farmers enjoyed it. They know the place so well, and it interested +them on that account. They understood it all." + +John sat as if enchanted,--by Kitty's almost childish grace, her +enthusiasm for her friend's poem, and her genuine enjoyment of it; by +the abrupt hills, mysterious now in sunset and legend; by the vast +plains so blue and so boundless: out of the thought of the littleness +of life, of which they were a symbol, there came the thought of the +greatness of love. + +"Won't you cross the poor gipsy's palm with a bit of silver, my pretty +gentleman, and she will tell you your fortune and that of your pretty +lady?" + +Kitty uttered a startled cry, and turning they found themselves facing a +strong, black-eyed girl. She repeated her question. + +"What do you think, Kitty, would you like to have your fortune told?" + +Kitty laughed. "It would be rather fun," she said. + +She did not know what was coming, and she listened to the usual story, +full by the way of references to John--of a handsome young man who would +woo her, win her, and give her happiness, children, and wealth. + +John threw the girl a shilling. She withdrew. They watched her passing +through the furze. The silence about them was immense. Then John spoke: + +"What the gipsy said is quite true; I did not dare to tell you so +before." + +"What do you mean, John?" + +"I mean that I am in love with you, will you love me?" + +"You in love with me, John; it is quite absurd--I thought you hated +girls." + +"Never mind that, Kitty, say you will have me; make the gipsy's words +come true." + +"Gipsies' words always come true." + +"Then you will marry me?" + +"I never thought about marriage. When do you want me to marry you? I am +only seventeen?" + +"Oh! when you like, later on, only say you will be mine, that you will +be mistress of Thornby Place one day, that is all I want." + +"Then you don't want to pull the house down any more." + +"No, no; a thousand times no! Say you will be my wife one of these +days." + +"Very well then, one of these days...." "And I may tell my mother of +your promise to-night?... It will make her so happy." + +"Of course you may tell her, John, but I don't think she will believe +it." + +"Why should she not believe it?" + +"I don't know," said Kitty, laughing, "but how funny, was it not, that +the gipsy girl should guess right?" + +"Yes, it was indeed. I wanted to tell you before, but I hadn't the +courage; and I might never have found the courage if it had not been for +that gipsy." + +In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely +sensible of the importance of the promise she had given. And in silence +he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever +in his mind. Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, +and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard. +Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in +darkness that was almost night. + +"I am sorry we cannot see the house--your house," said John as they +descended the chalk road. + +"It seems so funny to hear you say that, John." + +"Why? It will be your house some day." + +"But supposing your Church will not let you marry me, what then...." + +"There is no danger of that; a dispensation can always be obtained. But +who knows.... You have never considered the question.... You know +nothing of our Church; if you did, you might become a convert. I wish +you would consider the question. It is so simple; we surrender our own +wretched understanding, and are content to accept the Church as wiser +than we. Once man throws off restraint there is no happiness, there is +only misery. One step leads to another; if he would be logical he must +go on, and before long, for the descent is very rapid indeed, he finds +himself in an abyss of darkness and doubt, a terrible abyss indeed, +where nothing exists, and life has lost all meaning. The Reformation was +the thin end of the wedge, it was the first denial of authority, and you +see what it has led to--modern scepticism and modern pessimism." + +"I don't know what it means, but I heard Mrs Norton say you were a +pessimist." + +"I was; but I saw in time where it was leading me, and I crushed it out. +I used to be a Republican too, but I saw what liberty meant, and what +were its results, and I gave it up." + +"So you gave up all your ideas for Catholicism...." + +John hesitated, he seemed a little startled, but he answered, "I would +give up anything for my Church..." + +"What! Me?" + +"That is not required." + +"And did it cost you much to give up your ideas?" + +John raised his eyes--it was a look that Balzac would have understood +and would have known how to interpret in some admirable pages of human +suffering. "None will ever know how I have suffered," he said sadly. +"But now I am happy, oh! so happy, and my happiness would be complete +if.... Oh! if God would grant you grace to believe...." + +"But I do believe. I believe in our Lord Christ who died to save us. Is +not that enough?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Like Juggernaut's car, Catholicism had passed over John's mind, crushing +all individualism, and leaving it but a wreck of quaking mysticism. +Twenty times a day the spectre of his conscience rose and with menacing +finger threatened him with flames and demons. And his love was a source +of continual suffering. How often did he ask himself if he were +surrendering his true vocation? How often did he beg of God to guide him +aright? But these mental agitations were visible to no one. He preserved +his calm exterior and the keenest eye detected in him only an ordinary +young man with more than usually strict business habits. He had +appointments with his solicitor. He consulted with him, he went into +complex calculations concerning necessary repairs, and he laid plans for +the more advantageous letting of the farms. + +His mother encouraged him to attend to his business. Her head was full +of other matters. A dispensation had to be obtained; it was said that +the Pope was more than ever opposed to mixed marriages. But no objection +would be made to this one. It would be madness to object.... A rich +Catholic family at Henfield--nearly four thousand a-year--must not be +allowed to become extinct. Thornby Place was the link between the Duke +of Norfolk and the So and So's. If those dreadful cousins came in for +the property, Protestantism would again be established at Thornby Place. +And what a pity that would be; and just at a time when Catholicism was +beginning to make headway in Sussex. And if John did not marry now he +would never marry; of that she was quite sure. + +As may be imagined, these were not the arguments with which Mrs Norton +sought to convince the Rev. William Hare; they were those with which she +besieged the Brompton Oratory, Farm Street, and the Pro-Cathedral. She +played one off against the other. The Jesuits were nettled at having +lost him, but it was agreeable to learn that the Carmelites had been no +less unfortunate than they. The Oratorians on the whole thought he was +not in their "line"; and as their chance of securing him was remote, +they agreed that John would prove more useful to the Church as a married +man than as a priest. A few weeks later the Papal sanction was obtained. + +The clause concerning the children affected Mr Hare deeply, but he was +told that he must not stand in the way of the happiness of two young +people. He considered the question from many points of view, but in the +meantime Mrs Norton continued to deluge Kitty with presents, and to talk +to everybody of her son's marriage. The parson's difficulties were +thereby increased, and eventually he found he could not withhold his +consent. + +And as time went on, John seemed to take a more personal delight in +life than he had done before. He forgot his ancient prejudices if not +his ancient ideals, and, as was characteristic of him, he avoided +thinking with any definiteness on the nature of the new life into which +he was to enter soon. His neighbours declared he was very much improved; +and there were dinner parties at Thornby Place. One of his great +pleasures was to start early in the morning, and having spent a long +day with Kitty, to return home across the downs. The lofty, lonely +landscape, with its lengthy hills defined upon the flushes of July, came +in happy contrast with the noisy hours of tennis and girls; and standing +on the gently ascending slopes, rising almost from the wicket gate of +the rectory, he would wave farewells to Kitty and the Austins. And in +the glittering morning, grey and dewy, when he descended these slopes to +the strip of land that lies between them and the sea, he would pause on +the last verge where the barn stands. Squire Austin's woods are in +front, and they stretch by the town to the sleepy river with its +spiderlike bridge crossing the sandy marshes. The church spire and roofs +show through each break in the elm trees, and higher still the horizon +of the sea is shimmering. + +The rectory is rich brown brick and tiles. About it there is an ample +farmyard. Mr Hare has but the house and an adjoining field, the three +great ricks are Mr Austin's; the sunlight is upon them, and through the +long shadows the cart horses are moving with the drays; and now a +hundred pigeons rise and are seen against the green velvet of the elms, +and one bird's wings are white upon the white sea. + +Mr Hare is sitting in the verandah smoking, Kitty is attending to her +birds. + +"Good morning, John," she cried, "but I can't shake hands with you, my +hands are dirty. Do you talk to father, I haven't a moment. There is +such a lot to do. You know the Miss Austins are coming here to early +dinner, and we have two young men coming from Worthing to play tennis. +The court isn't marked yet." + +"I will help you to mark it." + +"Very well, but I am not ready yet." + +John lit a cigar, and he spoke of books to Mr Hare, whom he considered a +gross Philistine, although a worthy man. The shadows of the Virginia +creeper fell on the red pavement, and Kitty's light voice was heard on +the staircase. Presently she appeared, and lifting the trailing foliage, +she spoke to him. She took him away, and the parson watched the white +lines being marked on the sward. He watched them walk by the iron +railing that separated Little Leywood from Leywood, the Squire's house. +They passed through a small wooden gate into a bit of thick wood, and so +gained the drive. Mr Austin took John to see the horses, Kitty ran to +see the girls who were in their room dressing. How they chattered as +they came down stairs, and with what lightness and laughter they went to +Little Leywood. Their interests were centred in John, and Kitty took +the foremost place as an engaged girl. After dinner young men arrived, +and tennis was played unceasingly. At six o'clock, tired and hot with +air and exercise, all went in to tea--a high tea. At seven John said he +must be thinking of getting home; and happy and glad with all the +pleasant influences of the day upon them, Kitty and the Miss Austins +accompanied him as far as the farm gate. + +"What a beautiful walk you will have, Mr Norton; but aren't you tired? +Seven miles in the morning and seven in the evening!" + +"But I have had the whole day to rest in." + +"What a lovely evening! Let's all walk a little way with him," said +Kitty. + +"I should like to," said the elder Miss Austin, "but we promised father +to be home for dinner. The one sure way of getting into his black books +is to keep his dinner waiting, and he wouldn't dine without us." + +"Well, good-bye, dear," said Kitty, "I shall walk as far as the burgh." + +The Miss Austins turned into the rich trees that encircle Leywood, Kitty +and John faced the hill. They were soon silhouettes, and ascending, they +stood, tiny specks upon the pink evening hours. The table-land swept +about them in multitudinous waves; it was silent and solitary as the +sea. Lancing College, some miles distant, stood lonely as a lighthouse, +and beneath it the Ada flowed white and sluggish through the marshes, +the long spine of the skeleton bridge was black, and there, by that low +shore, the sea was full of mist, and sea and shore and sky were lost in +opal and grey. Old Shoreham, with its air of commerce, of stagnant +commerce, stood by the sea. The tide was out, the sea gates were dry, +only a few pools flashed silver amid the ooze; and the masts of the tall +vessels,--tall vessels aground in that strange canal or rather dyke +which runs parallel with and within a few yards of the sea for so many +miles,--tapered and leaned out over the sea banks, and the points of the +top masts could be counted. Then on the left hand towards Brighton, the +sea streamed with purple, it was striped with green, and it hung like a +blue veil behind the rich trees of Leywood and Little Leywood, and the +trees and the fields were full of golden rays. + +The lovers stood on a grassy plain; sheep were travelling over the great +expanses of the valleys; rooks were flying about. Looking over the plain +you saw Southwick,--a gleam of gables, a gleam of walls,--skirting a +plantation; and further away still, Brighton lay like a pile of rocks +heaped about a low shore. + +To the lovers life was now as an assortment of simple but beautiful +flowers; and they passed the blossoms to and fro and bound them into +a bouquet. They talked of the Miss Austins, of their flirtations, of +the Rectory, of Thornby Place, of Italy, for there they were going +next month on their honeymoon. The turnip and corn lands were as +inconceivable widths of green and yellow satin rolling through the rich +light of the crests into the richer shadow of the valleys. And there +there was a farm-house surrounded by buildings, surrounded by trees,--it +looked like a nest in its snug hollow; the smoke ascended blue and +peacefully. It was the last habitation. Beyond it the downs extend, in +almost illimitable ranges ascending to the wild golden gorse, to the +purple heather. + +We are on the burgh. The hills tumble this way and that; below is the +great weald of Sussex, blue with vapour, spotted with gold fields, level +as a landscape by Hobbema; Chanctonbury Ring stands up like a gaunt +watcher; its crown of trees is pressed upon its brow, a dark and +imperial crown. + +Overhead the sky is full of dark grey clouds; through them the sun +breaks and sheds silver dust over the landscape; in the passing gleams +the green of the furze grows vivid. If you listen you hear the tinkling +of the bell-wether; if you look you see a solitary rabbit. A stunted +hawthorn stands by the circle of stone, and by it the lovers were +sitting. He was talking to her of Italy, of cathedrals and statues, +for although he now loves her as a man should love, he still saw his +honeymoon in a haze of Botticellis, cardinals, and chants. They stood +up and bid each other good-bye, and waving hands they parted. + +Night was coming on apace, a long way lay still before him, and he +walked hastily; she being nearer home, sauntered leisurely, swinging her +parasol. The sweetness of the evening was in her blood and brain, and +the architectural beauty of the landscape--the elliptical arches of the +hills--swam before her. But she had not walked many minutes before a +tramp, like a rabbit out of a bush, sprang out of the furze where he had +been sleeping. He was a gaunt hulking fellow, six feet high. + +"Now 'aven't you a copper or two for a poor fellow, Missie?" + +Kitty started from him frightened. "No, I haven't, I have nothing ... go +away." + +He laughed hoarsely, she ran from him. "Now, don't run so fast, Missie, +won't you give a poor fellow something?" + +"I have nothing." + +"Oh, yes you 'ave; what about those pretty lips?" + +A few strides brought him again to her side. He laid his hand upon her +arm. She broke her parasol across his face, he laughed hoarsely. She saw +his savage beast-like eyes fixed hungrily upon her. She fainted for fear +of his look of dull tigerish cruelty. She fell.... + +When shaken and stunned and terrified she rose from the ground, she saw +the tall gaunt figure passing away like a shadow. The wild solitary +landscape was pale and dim. In the fading light it was a drawing made on +blue paper with a hard pencil. The long undulating lines were defined +on the dead sky, the girdle of blue encircling sea was an image of +eternity. All now was the past, there did not seem to be a present. Her +mind was rocked to and fro, and on its surface words and phrases floated +like sea weed.... To throw her down and ill-treat her. Her frock is +spoilt; they will ask her where she has been to, and how she got herself +into such a state. Mechanically she brushed herself, and mechanically, +very mechanically she picked bits of furze from her dress. She held each +away from her and let it drop in a silly vacant way, all the while +running the phrases over in her mind: "What a horrible man ... he threw me +down and ill-treated me; my frock is ruined, utterly ruined, what a +state it is in! I had a narrow escape of being murdered. I will tell +them that ... that will explain ... I had a narrow escape of being +murdered." But presently she grew conscious that these thoughts were +fictitious thoughts, and that there was a thought, a real thought, +lying in the background of her mind, which she dared not face, which she +could not think of, for she did not think as she desired to; her +thoughts came and went at their own wild will, they flitted lightly, +touching with their wings but ever avoiding this deep and formless +thought which lay in darkness, almost undiscoverable, like a monster in +a nightmare. + +She rose to her feet, she staggered, her sight seemed to fail her. There +was a darkness in the summer evening which she could not account for; +the ground seemed to slide beneath her feet, the landscape seemed to be +in motion and to be rolling in great waves towards the sea. Would it +precipitate itself into the sea, and would she be engulphed in the +universal ruin? O! the sea, how implacably serene, how remorselessly +beautiful; green along the shore, purple along the horizon! But the land +was rolling to it. By Lancing College it broke seaward in a soft lapsing +tide, in front of her it rose in angry billows; and Leywood hill, +green, and grand, and voluted, stood up a great green wave against the +waveless sea. + +"What a horrible man ... he attacked me, ill-treated me ... what for?" Her +thoughts turned aside. "He should be put in prison.... If father knew +it, or John knew it, he would be put in prison, and for a very long +time.... Why did he attack me?... Perhaps to rob me; yes, to rob me, of +course to rob me." The evening seemed to brighten, the tumultuous +landscape to grow still, To rob her, and of what?... of her watch; where +was it? It was gone. The happiness of a dying saint when he opens arms +to heaven descended upon her. The watch was gone ... but, had she lost it? +Should she go back and see if she could find it? Oh! impossible; see the +place again--impossible! search among the gorse--impossible! Horror! She +would die. O to die on the lonely hills, to lie stark and cold beneath +the stars! But no, she would not be found upon these hills. She would +die and be seen no more. O to die, to sink in that beautiful sea, so +still, so calm, so calm--why would it not take her to its bosom and hide +her away? She would go to it, but she could not get to it; there were +thousands of men between her and it.... An icy shiver passed through +her. + +Then as her thoughts broke away, she thought of how she had escaped +being murdered. How thankful she ought to be--but somehow she is not +thankful. And she was above all things conscious of a horror of +returning, of returning to where she would see men and women's faces ... +men's faces. And now with her eyes fixed on the world that awaited her, +she stood on the hillside. There was Brighton far away, sparkling in the +dying light; nearer, Southwick showed amid woods, winding about the foot +of the hills; in front Shoreham rose out of the massy trees of Leywood, +the trees slanted down to the lawn and foliage and walls, made spots of +white and dark green upon a background of blue sea; further to the +right there was a sluggish silver river, the spine of the skeleton +bridge, a spur of Lancing hill, and then mist, pale mist, pale grey +mist. + +"I cannot go home", thought the girl, and acting in direct contradiction +to her thoughts, she walked forward. Her parasol--where was it? It was +broken. The sheep, how sweet and quiet they looked, and the clover, how +deliciously it smelt.... This is Mr Austin's farm, and how well kept it +is. There is the barn. And Evy and Mary, when would they be married? Not +so soon as she, she was going to be married in a month. In a month. She +repeated the words over to herself; she strove to collect her thoughts, +and failing to do so, she walked on hurriedly, she almost ran as if in +the motion to force out of sight the thoughts that for a moment +threatened to define themselves in her mind. Suddenly she stopped; there +were some children playing by the farm gate. They did not know that she +was by, and she listened to their childish prattle unsuspected. To +listen was an infinite assuagement, one that was overpoweringly sweet, +and for some moments she almost forgot. But she woke from her ecstacy in +deadly fear and great pain, for coming along the hedgerow the voice of a +man was heard, and the children ran away. And she ran too, like a +terrified fawn, trembling in every limb, and sick with fear she sped +across the meadows. The front door was open; she heard her father +calling. To see him she felt would be more than she could bear; she must +hide from his sight for ever, and dashing upstairs she double locked her +door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The sky was still flushed, there was light upon the sea, but the room +was dim and quiet. The room! Kitty had seen it under all aspects, she +had lived in it many years: then why does she look with strained eyes? +Why does she shrink? Nothing has been changed. There is her little +narrow bed, and her little bookcase full of novels and prayer-books; +there is her work-basket by the fireplace, by the fireplace closed in +with curtains that she herself embroidered; above her pillow there is a +crucifix; there are photographs of the Miss Austins, and pictures of +pretty children cut from the Christmas Numbers on the walls. She starts +at the sight of these familiar objects! She trembles in the room which +she thought of as a haven of refuge. Why does she grasp the rail of the +bed--why? She scarcely knows: something that is at once remembrance and +suspicion fills her mind. Is this her room? + +The thought ended. She walked hurriedly to and fro, and as she passed +the fuchsia in the window a blossom fell. + +She sat down and stared into dark space. She walked languidly and +purposelessly to the wardrobe. She stopped to pick a petal from the +carpet. The sound of the last door was over, the retiring footfall had +died away in the distance, the last voice was hushed; the moon was +shining on the sea. A lovely scene, silver and blue; but how the girl's +heart was beating! She sighed. + +She sighed as if she had forgotten, and approaching her bedside she +raised her hands to her neck. It was the instinctive movement of +undressing. Her hands dropped, she did not even unbutton her collar. She +could not. She resumed her walk, she picked up a blossom that had +fallen, she looked out on the pale white sea. There was moonlight now in +the room, a ghastly white spot was on the pillow. She was tired. The +moonlight called her. She lay down with her profile in the light. + +But there were smell and features in the glare--the odour was that of +the tramp's skin, the features--a long thin nose, pressed lips, small +eyes, a look of dull liquorish cruelty. And this presence was beside +her; she could not rid herself of it, she repulsed it with cries, but it +came again, and mocking, lay on the pillow. + +Horrible, too horrible! She sprang from the bed. Was there anyone in her +room? How still it was! The mysterious moonlight, the sea white as a +shroud, the sward so chill and death-like. What! Did it move? Was it he? +That fearsome shadow! Was she safe? Had they forgotten to bar up the +house? Her father's house! Horrible, too horrible, she must shut out +this treacherous light--darkness were better.... + + * * * * * + +The curtains are closed, but a ray glinting between the wall and curtain +shows her face convulsed. Something follows her: she knows not what, her +thoughts are monstrous and obtuse. She dares not look round, she would +turn to see if her pursuer is gaining upon her, but some invincible +power restrains her.... Agony! Her feet catch in, and she falls over +great leaves. She falls into the clefts of ruined tombs, and her hands +as she attempts to rise are laid on sleeping snakes--rattlesnakes: they +turn to attack her, and they glide away and disappear in moss and +inscriptions. O, the calm horror of this region! Before her the trees +extend in complex colonnades, silent ruins are grown through with giant +roots, and about the mysterious entrances of the crypts there lingers +yet the odour of ancient sacrifices. The stem of a rare column rises +amid the branches, the fragment of an arch hangs over and is supported +by a dismantled tree trunk. Ages ago the leaves fell, and withered; ages +ago; and now the skeleton arms, lifted in fantastic frenzy against the +desert skies, are as weird and symbolic as the hieroglyphics on the +tombs below. + +And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. + +Flowers hang on every side,--flowers as strange and as gorgeous as +Byzantine chalices; flowers narrow and fluted and transparent as long +Venetian glasses; opaque flowers bulging and coloured with gold devices +like Chinese vases, flowers striped with cinnamon and veined with azure; +a million flower-cups and flower chalices, and in these as in censers +strange and deadly perfumes are melting, and the heavy fumes descend +upon the girl, and they mix with the polluting odour of the ancient +sacrifices. She sinks, her arms are raised like those of a victim; she +sinks overcome, done to death or worse in some horrible asphyxiation. + +And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. His claws are upon the crumbling tombs. + +The suffocating girl utters a thin wail. The vulture pauses, and is +stationary on the white and desert skies. She strives with her last +strength to free herself from the thrall of the great lianas, and she +falls into fresh meshes.... The claws are heard amid the ruins, there is +a hirsute smell; she turns with terrified eyes to plead, but she meets +only the dull liquorish eyes, and the breath of the obscene animal is on +her face. + +Then she finds herself in the pleasure grounds of Thornby Place. There +are the evergreen oaks, there is the rosary flaring all its wealth of +red, purple, and white flowers, there is the park encircled by elms, +there is the vista filled in with the line of the lofty downs. For a +moment she is surprised, and fails to understand. Then she forgets the +change of place in new sensations of terror. For across the park +something is coming, she knows not what; it will pass her by. She +watches a brown and yellow serpent, cubits high. Cubits high. It rears +aloft its tawny hide, scenting its prey. The great coiling body, the +small head, small as a man's hand, the black beadlike eyes shine out +upon the intoxicating blue of the sky. The narrow long head, the fixed +black eyes are dull, inexorable desire, conscious of nothing beyond, and +only dimly conscious of itself. Will the snake pass by the hiding girl? +She rushes to meet it. What folly! She turns and flies. + +She takes refuge in the rosary. It follows her, gathering its immense +body into horrible and hideous heights. How will she save herself? She +will pluck roses, and build a wall between her and it. She collects huge +bouquets, armfuls of beautiful flowers, garlands and wreaths. The +flower-wall rises, and hoping to combat the fury of the beast with +purity, she goes to where beautiful and snowy blossoms grow in +clustering millions. She gathers them in haste; her arms and hands are +streaming with blood, but she pays no heed, and as the snake surmounts +one barricade, she builds another. But in vain. The reptile leans over +them all, and the sour dirty smell of the scaly hide befouls the odorous +breath of the roses. The long thin neck is upon her; she feels the +horrid strength of the coils as they curl and slip about her, drawing +her whole life into one knotted and loathsome embrace. And all the while +the roses fall in a red and white rain about her. And through the ruin +of the roses she escapes from the stench and the coils, and all the +while the snake pursues her even into the fountain. The waves and the +snake close about her. + +Then without any transition in place or time, she finds herself +listening to the sound of rippling water. There is an iron drinking cup +close to her hand. She seems to recognise the spot. It is Shoreham. +There are the streets she knows so well, the masts of the vessels, the +downs. But suddenly something darkens the sunlight, the tawny body of +the snake oscillates, the people cry to her to escape. She flies along +the streets, like the wind she seems to pass. She calls for help. +Sometimes the crowds are stationary as if frozen into stone, sometimes +they follow the snake and attack it with sticks and knives. One man with +colossal shoulders wields a great sabre; it flashes about him like +lightning. Will he kill it? He turns and chases a dog, and disappears. +The people too have disappeared. She is flying now along a wild plain +covered with coarse grass and wild poppies. When she glances behind her +she sees the outline of the little coast town, the snake is near her, +and there is no one to whom she can call for help. But the sea is in +front of her, bound like a blue sash about the cliff's edge. She will +escape down the rocks--there is still a chance! The descent is sheer, +but somehow she retains foothold. Then the snake drops, she feels his +weight upon her, and both fall, fall, fall, and the sea is below +them.... + + * * * * * + +With a shriek she sprang from the bed, and still under the influence of +the dream, rushed to the window. The moon hung over the sea, the sea +flowed with silver, the world was as chill as an icicle. + +"The roses, the snake, the cliff's edge, was it then only a dream?" the +girl thought. "It was only a dream, a terrible dream, but after all only +a dream!" In her hope breathes again, and she smiles like one who thinks +he is going to hear that he will not die, but as the old pain returns +when the last portion of the deceptive sentence is spoken, so despair +came back to her when remembrance pierced the cloud of hallucination, +and told her that all was not a dream--there was something that was +worse than a dream. + +She uttered a low cry, and she moaned. Centuries seemed to have passed, +and yet the evil deed remained. It was still night, but what would the +day bring to her? There was no hope. Abstract hope from life, and what +blank agony you create! + +She drew herself up on her bed, and lay with her face buried in the +pillow. For the face was beside her: the foul smell was in her nostrils, +and the dull, liquorish look of the eyes shone through the darkness. +Then sleep came again, and she lay stark and straight as if she were +dead, with the light of the moon upon her face. And she sees herself +dead. And all her friends are about her crowning her with flowers, +beautiful garlands of white roses, and dressing her in a long white +robe, white as the snowiest cloud in heaven, and it lies in long +straight plaits about her limbs like the robes of those who lie in +marble in cathedral aisles. And it falls over her feet, and her hands +are crossed over her breast, and all praise in low but ardent words the +excessive whiteness of the garment. For none sees but she that there is +a black spot upon the robe which they believe to be immaculate. And she +would warn them of their error, but she cannot; and when they avert +their faces to wipe away their tears, the stain might be easily seen, +but when they turn to continue the last offices, folds or flowers have +mysteriously fallen over the stain, and hide it from view. + +And it is great pain to her to feel herself thus unable to tell them of +their error, for she well knows that when she is placed in the tomb, and +the angels come, that they will not fail to perceive the stain, and +seeing it they will not fail to be shocked and sorrowful,--and seeing it +they will turn away weeping, saying, "She is not for us, alas, she is +not for us!" + +And Kitty, who is conscious of this fatal oversight, the results of +which she so clearly foresees, is grievously afflicted, and she makes +every effort to warn her friends of their error: but in vain, for there +appears to be one amid the mourners who knows that she is endeavouring +to announce to them the black stain, and this one whose face she cannot +readily distinguish, maliciously and with diabolical ingenuity withdraws +attention at the moment when it should fall upon it. + +And so it comes that she is buried in the stained robe, and she is +carried amid flowers and white cloths to a white marble tomb, where +incense is burning, and where the walls are hung with votive wreaths and +things commemorative of virginal life and its many lovelinesses. But, +strange to say, upon all these, upon the flowers and images alike there +is some small stain which none sees but she and the one in shadow, the +one whose face she cannot recognise. And although she is nailed fast in +her coffin, she sees these stains vividly, and the one whose face she +cannot recognise sees them too. And this is certain, for the shadow of +the face is sometimes stirred by a horrible laugh. + +The mourners go, the evening falls, and the wild sunset floats for a +while through the western Heavens; and the cemetery becomes a deep +green, and in the wind that blows out of Heaven, the cypresses rock like +things sad and mute. + +And the blue night comes with stars in her tresses, and out of those +stars a legion of angels float softly; their white feet hang out of the +blown folds, their wings are pointed to the stars. And from out of the +earth, out of the mist, but whence and how it is impossible to say, +there come other angels dark of hue and foul smelling. But the white +angels carry swords, and they wave these swords, and the scene is +reflected in them as in a mirror; and the dark angels cower in a corner +of the cemetery, but they do not utterly retire. + +And then the tomb is opened, and the white angels enter the tomb. And +the coffin is opened, and the girl trembles lest the angels should +discover the stain she knew of. But lo! to her great joy they do not see +it, and they bear her away through the blue night, past the sacred +stars, even within the glory of Paradise. And it is not until one whose +face she cannot recognize, and whose presence among the angels of +Heaven she cannot comprehend, steals away one of the garlands of white +with which she was entwined, that the fatal stain becomes visible. The +angels are overcome with a mighty sorrow, and relinquishing their +burden, they break into song, and the song they sing is one of grief; +and above an accompaniment of spheral music it travels through the +spaces of Heaven; and she listens to its wailing echoes as she falls, +falls,--falls past the sacred stars to the darkness of terrestrial +skies,--falls towards the sea where the dark angels are waiting for her; +and as she falls she leans with reverted neck and strives to see their +faces, and as she nears them she distinguishes one into whose arms she +is going; it is, it is--the... + + * * * * * + +"Save me, save me!" she cried; and bewildered and dazed with the dream, +she stared on the room, now chill with summer dawn; the pale light broke +over the Shoreham sea, over the lordly downs and rich plantations of +Leywood. Again she murmured, it was only a dream, it was only a dream; +again a sort of presentiment of happiness spread like light through her +mind, and again remembrance came with its cruel truths--there was +something that was not a dream, but that was worse than the dream. And +then with despair in her heart she sat watching the cold sky turn to +blue, the delicate bright blue of morning, and the garden grow into +yellow and purple and red. There lay the sea, joyous and sparkling in +the light of the mounting sun, and the masts of the vessels at anchor in +the long water way. The tapering masts were faint on the shiny sky, and +now between them and about them a face seemed to be. Sometimes it was +fixed on one, sometimes it flashed like a will o' the wisp, and appeared +a little to the right or left of where she had last seen it. It was the +face that was now buried in her very soul, and sometimes it passed out +of the sky into the morning mist, which still heaved about the edges of +the woods; and there she saw something grovelling, crouching, +crawling,--a wild beast, or was it a man? + +She did not weep, nor did she moan. She sat thinking. She dwelt on the +remembrance of the hills and the tramp with strange persistency, and yet +no more now than before did she attempt to come to conclusions with her +thought; it was vague, she would not define it; she brooded over it +sullenly and obtusely. Sometimes her thoughts slipped away from it, but +with each returning, a fresh stage was marked in the progress of her +nervous despair. + +So the hours went by. At eight o'clock the maid knocked at the door. +Kitty opened it mechanically, and she fell into the woman's arms, +weeping and sobbing passionately. The sight of the female face brought +infinite relief; it interrupted the jarred and strained sense of the +horrible; the secret affinities of sex quickened within her. The woman's +presence filled Kitty with the feelings that the harmlessness of a lamb +or a soft bird inspires. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"But what is it, Miss, what is it? Are you ill? Why, Miss, you haven't +taken your things off; you haven't been to bed." + +"No, I lay down.... I have had frightful dreams--that is all." + +"But you must be ill, Miss; you look dreadful, Miss. Shall I tell Mr +Hare? Perhaps the doctor had better be sent for." + +"No, no; pray say nothing about me. Tell my father that I did not sleep, +that I am going to lie down for a little while, that he is not to expect +me down for breakfast." + +"I really think, Miss, that it would be as well for you to see the +doctor." + +"No, no, no. I am going to lie down, and I am not to be disturbed." + +"Shall I fill the bath, Miss? Shall I leave hot water here, Miss?" + +"Bath.... Hot water...." Kitty repeated the words over as if she were +striving to grasp a meaning which was suggested, but which eluded her. +Then her face relaxed, the expression was one of pitiful despair, and +that expression gave way to a sense of nausea, expressed by a quick +contraction of the eyes. + +She listened to the splashing of the water, and its echoes were repeated +indefinably through her soul. + +The maid left the room. Kitty's attention was attracted to her dress. It +was torn, it was muddy, there were bits of furze sticking to it. She +picked these off, and slowly she commenced settling it: but as she did +so, remembrance, accurate and simple recollection of facts, returned to +her, and the succession was so complete that the effect was equivalent +to a re-enduring of the crime, and with a foreknowledge of it, as if to +sharpen its horror and increase the sense of the pollution. The lovely +hills, the engirdling sea, the sweet glow of evening--she saw it all +again. And as if afraid that her brain, now strained like a body on the +rack, would suddenly snap, she threw up her arms, and began to take off +her dress, as violently as if she would hush thought in abrupt +movements. In a moment she was in stays and petticoat. The delicate and +almost girlish arms were disfigured by great bruises. Great black and +blue stains were spreading through the skin. + +Kitty lifted up her arm: she looked at it in surprise; then in horror +she rushed to the door where her dressing gown was hanging, and wrapped +herself in it tightly, hid herself in it so that no bit of her flesh +could be seen. + +She threw herself madly on the bed. She moved, pressing herself against +the mattress as if she would rub away, free herself from her loathed +self. The sight of her hand was horrible to her, and she covered it over +hurriedly. + +The maid came up with a tray. The trivial jingle of the cups and plates +was another suffering added to the ever increasing stress of mind, and +now each memory was accompanied by sensations of physical sickness, of +nausea. + +She slipped from the bed and locked the door. Again she was alone. An +hour passed. + +Her father came up. His footsteps on the stairs caused her intolerable +anguish. On entering the house she had hated to hear his voice, and now +that hatred was intensified a thousandfold. His voice sounded in her +ears false, ominous, abominable. She could not have opened the door to +him, and the effort required to speak a few words, to say she was tired +and wished to be left alone, was so great that it almost cost her her +reason. It was a great relief to hear him go. She asked herself why she +hated to hear his voice, but before she could answer a sudden +recollection of the tramp sprang upon her. Her nostrils recalled the +smell, and her eyes saw the long, thin nose and the dull liquorish eyes +beside her on the pillow. + +She got up and walked about the room, and its appearance contrasted +with and aggravated the fierceness of the fever of passion and horror +that raged within her. The homeliness of the teacups and the plates, the +tin bath, painted yellow and white, so grotesque and so trim. + +But not its water nor even the waves of the great sea would wash away +remembrance. She pressed her face against the pane. The wide sea, so +peaceful, so serene! Oblivion, oblivion, O for the waters of oblivion! + +Then for an hour she almost forgot; sometimes she listened, and the +shrill singing of the canary was mixed with thoughts of her dead +brothers and sisters, of her mother. She was waked from her reveries by +the farm bell ringing the labourers' dinner hour. + +Night had been fearsome with darkness and dreams, but the genial +sunlight and the continuous externality of the daytime acted on her +mind, and turned vague thoughts, as it were, into sentences, printed in +clear type. She often thought she was dead, and she favoured this idea, +but she was never wholly dead. She was a lost soul wandering on those +desolate hills, the gloom descending, and Brighton and Southwick and +Shoreham and Worthing gleaming along the sea banks of a purple sea. +There were phantoms--there were two phantoms. One turned to reality, and +she walked by her lover's side, talking of Italy. Then he disappeared, +and she shrank from the horrible tramp; then both men grew confused in +her mind, and in despair she threw herself on her bed. Raising her eyes +she caught sight of her prayer-book, but she turned from it moaning, for +her misery was too deep for prayer. + +The lunch bell rang. She listened to the footsteps on the staircase; she +begged to be excused, and she refused to open the door. + +The day grew into afternoon. She awoke from a dreamless sleep of about +an hour, and still under its soothing influence, she pinned up her +hair, settled the ribbons of her dressing gown, and went downstairs. She +found her father and John in the drawing-room. + +"Oh, here is Kitty!" they exclaimed. + +"But what is the matter, dear? Why are you not dressed?" said Mr Hare. +"But what is the matter.... Are you ill?" said John, and he extended his +hand. + +"No, no, 'tis nothing," she replied, and avoiding the outstretched hand +with a shudder, she took the seat furthest away from her father and +lover. + +They looked at her in amazement, and she at them in fear and trembling. +She was conscious of two very distinct sensations--one the result of +reason, the other of madness. She was not ignorant of the causes of +each, although she was powerless to repress one in favour of the other. +Both struggled for mastery and for the moment without disturbing the +equipoise. On the side of reason she knew very well she was looking at +and talking to her dear, kind father, and that the young man sitting +next him was John Norton, the son of her dear friend, Mrs Norton; she +knew he was the young man who loved her, and whom she was going to +marry, marry, marry. On the other side she saw that her father's kind +benign countenance was not a real face, but a mask which he wore over +another face, and which, should the mask slip--and she prayed that it +might not--would prove as horrible and revolting as-- + +But the mask John wore was as nothing, it was the veriest make believe. +And she could not but doubt now but that the face she had known him so +long by was a fictitious face, and as the hallucination strengthened, +she saw his large mild eyes grow small, and that vague dreamy look +turn to the dull liquorish look, the chin came forward, the brows +contracted ... the large sinewy hands were, oh, so like! Then reason +asserted itself; the vision vanished, and she saw John Norton as she +had always seen him. + +But was she sure that she did? Yes, yes--she must not give way. But her +head seemed to be growing lighter, and she did not appear to be able to +judge things exactly as she should; a sort of new world seemed to be +slipping like a painted veil between her and the old. She must resist. + +John and Mr Hare looked at her. + +John at length rose, and advancing to her, said, "My dear Kitty, I am +afraid you are not well...." + +She strove to allow him to take her hand, but she could not overcome the +instinctive feeling which, against her will, caused her to shrink from +him. + +"Oh, don't come near me, I cannot bear it!" she cried, "don't come near +me, I beg of you." + +More than this she could not do, and giving way utterly, she shrieked +and rushed from the room. She rushed upstairs. She stood in the middle +of the floor listening to the silence, her thoughts falling about her +like shaken leaves. It was as if a thunderbolt had destroyed the world, +and left her alone in a desert. The furniture of the room, the bed, the +chairs, the books she loved, seemed to have become as grains of sand, +and she forgot all connection between them and herself. She pressed her +hands to her forehead, and strove to separate the horror that crowded +upon her. But all was now one horror--the lonely hills were in the room, +the grey sky, the green furze, the tramp; she was again fighting +furiously with him; and her lover and her father and all sense of the +world's life grew dark in the storm of madness. Suddenly she felt +something on her neck. She put her hand up ... + +And now with madness on her face she caught up a pair of scissors and +cut off her hair: one after the other the great tresses of gold and +brown fell, until the floor was strewn with them. + +A step was heard on the stairs; her quick ears caught the sound, and she +rushed to the door to lock it. But she was too late. John held it fast. + +"Kitty, Kitty," he cried, "for God's sake, tell me what is the matter!" + +"Save me! save me!" she cried, and she forced the door against him with +her whole strength. He was, however, determined on questioning her, on +seeing her, and he passed his head and shoulders into the room. His +heart quailed at the face he saw. + +For now had gone that imperceptible something which divides the life of +the sane from that of the insane, and he who had so long feared lest a +woman might soil the elegant sanctity of his life, disappeared forever +from the mind of her whom he had learned to love, and existed to her +only as the foul dull brute who had outraged her on the hills. + +"Save me, save me! help, help!" she cried, retreating from him. + +"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? Say, say--" + +"Save me; oh mercy, mercy! Let me go, and I will never say I saw you, I +will not tell anything. Let me go!" she cried, retreating towards the +window. + +"For Heaven's sake, Kitty, take care--the window, the window!" + +But Kitty heard nothing, knew nothing, was conscious of nothing but a +mad desire to escape. The window was lifted high--high above her head, +and her face distorted with fear, she stood amid the soft greenery of +the Virginia creeper. + +"Save me," she cried, "mercy, mercy!" + +"Kitty, Kitty darling!" + + * * * * * + +The white dress passed through the green leaves. John heard a dull thud. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +And the pity of it! The poor white thing lying like a shot dove, +bleeding, and the dreadful blood flowing over the red tiles.... + +Mr Hare was kneeling by his daughter when John, rushing forth, stopped +and stood aghast. + +"What is this? Say--speak, speak man, speak; how did this happen?" + +"I cannot say, I do not know; she did not seem to know me; she ran away. +Oh my God, I do not understand; she seemed as if afraid of me, and she +threw herself out of the window. But she is not dead ..." + +The word rang out in the silence, ruthlessly brutal in its significance. +Mr Hare looked up, his face a symbol of agony. "Oh, dead, how can you +speak so ..." + +John felt his being sink and fade like a breath, and then, conscious of +nothing, he helped to lift Kitty from the tiles. But it was her father +who carried her upstairs. The blood flowed from the terrible wound in +the head. Dripped. The walls were stained. When she was laid upon the +bed, the pillow was crimson; and the maid-servant coming in, strove to +staunch the wound with towels. Kitty did not move. + +Both men knew there was no hope. The maid-servant retired, and she did +not close the door, nor did she ask if the doctor should be sent for. +One man held the bed rail, looking at his dead daughter; the other sat +by the window. That one was John Norton. His brain was empty, everything +was far away. He saw things moving, moving, but they were all so far +away. He could not re-knit himself with the weft of life; the thread +that had made him part of it had been snapped, and he was left +struggling in space. He knew that Kitty had thrown herself out of the +window and was dead. The word shocked him a little, but there was no +sense of realisation to meet it. She had walked with him on the hills, +she had accompanied him as far as the burgh; she had waved her hand to +him before they walked quite out of each other's sight. They had been +speaking of Italy ... of Italy where they would have spent their +honeymoon. Now she was dead! There would be no honeymoon, no wife. How +unreal, how impossible it all did seem, and yet it was real, yes, real +enough. There she lay dead; here is her room, and there is her +book-case; there are the photographs of the Miss Austins, here is the +fuchsia with the pendent blossoms falling, and her canary is singing. +John glanced at the cage, and the song went to his brain, and he was +horrified, for there was no grief in his heart. + +Had he not loved her? Yes, he was sure of that; then why was there no +burning grief nor any tears? He envied the hard-sobbing father's grief, +the father who, prostrate by the bedside, held his dead daughter's hand, +and showed a face wild with fear--a face on which was printed so deeply +the terror of the soul's emotion, that John felt a supernatural awe +creep upon him; felt that his presence was a sort of sacrilege. He crept +downstairs. He went into the drawing-room, and looked about for the +place he had last seen her in. There it was.... There. But his eyes +wandered from the place, for it was there he had seen the startled face, +the half mad face which he had seen afterwards at the window, quite mad. + +On that sofa she usually sat; how often had he seen her sitting there! +And now he would not see her any more. And only three days ago she had +been sitting in the basket chair. How well he remembered her words, her +laughter, and now ... now; was it possible he never would hear her laugh +again? How frail a thing is human life, how shadow-like; one moment it +is here, the next it is gone. Here is her work-basket; and here the very +ball of wool which he had held for her to wind; and here is a novel +which she had lent to him, and which he had forgotten to take away. He +would never read it now; or perhaps he should read it in memory of her, +of her whom yesterday he parted with on the hills,--her little puritan +look, her external girlishness, her golden brown hair and the sudden +laugh so characteristic of her.... She had lent him this book--she who +was now but clay; she who was to have been his wife. His wife! The +thought struck him. Now he would never have a wife. What was there for +him to do? To turn his house into a Gothic monastery, and himself into a +monk. Very horrible and very bitter in its sheer grotesqueness was the +thought. It was as if in one moment he saw the whole of his life +summarised in a single symbol, and understood its vanity and its folly. +Ah, there was nothing for him, no wife, no life.... The tears welled up +in his eyes; the shock which in its suddenness had frozen his heart, +began to thaw, and grief fell like a penetrating rain. + +We learn to suffer as we learn to love, and it is not to-day, nor yet +to-morrow, but in weeks and months to come, and by slow degrees, that +John Norton will understand the irreparableness of his loss. There is a +man upstairs who crouches like stone by his dead daughter's side; he is +motionless and pale as the dead, he is as great in his grief as an +expression of grief by Michael Angelo. The hours pass, he is unconscious +of them; he sees not the light dying on the sea, he hears not the +trilling of the canary. He knows of nothing but his dead child, and +that the world would be nothing to give to have her speak to him once +again. His is the humblest and the worthiest sorrow, but such sorrow +cannot affect John Norton. He has dreamed too much and reflected too +much on the meaning of life; his suffering is too original in himself, +too self-centred, and at the same time too much, based on the inherent +misery of existence, to allow him to project himself into and suffer +with any individual grief, no matter how nearly it might be allied +to him and to his personal interest. He knew his weakness in this +direction, and now he gladly welcomed the coming of grief, for indeed +he had felt not a little shocked at the aridness of his heart, and +frightened lest his eyes should remain dry even to the end. + +Suddenly he remembered that the Miss Austins had said that they would +call to-morrow early for Kitty, to take her to Leywood to lunch.... They +were going to have some tennis in the afternoon. He too was expected +there. They must be told what had occurred. It would be terrible if they +came calling for Kitty under her window, and she lying dead! This slight +incident in the tragedy wrung his heart, and the effort of putting the +facts upon paper brought the truth home to him, and lured and led him to +see down the lifelong range of consequences. The doctor too, he thought, +must be warned of what had happened. And with the letter telling the sad +story in his hand, and illimitable sorrow in his soul, he went out in +the evening air. It was just such an evening as yester evening--a little +softer, a little lovelier, perhaps; earth, sea, and sky appeared like an +exquisite vision upon whose lips there is fragrance, yet in whose eyes a +glow of passion still survives. + +The beauty of the last hour of light is upon that crescent of sea, and +the ships loll upon the long strand, the tapering masts and slacking +ropes vanish upon the pallid sky. There is the old town, dusty, and +dreamy, and brown, with neglected wharfs and quays; there is the new +town, vulgar and fresh with green paint and trees, and looking hungrily +on the broad lands of the Squire, the broad lands and the rich woods +which rise up the hill side to the barn on the limit of the downs. How +beautiful the great green woods look as they sweep up a small expanse of +the downs, like a wave over a slope of sand. And there is a house with +red gables where the girls are still on the tennis lawn. John walked +through the town; he told the doctor he must go at once to the rectory. +He walked to Leywood and left his letter with the lodge-keeper; and +then, as if led by a strange fascination, he passed through the farm +gate and set out to return home across the hills. + +"She was here with me yesterday; how beautiful she looked, and how +graceful were her laughter and speech," he said, turning suddenly and +looking down on the landscape; on the massy trees contrasting with the +walls of the town, the spine-like bridge crossing the marshy shore, the +sails of the mill turning over the crest of the hill. The night was +falling fast, as a blue veil it hung down over the sea, but the deep +pure sky seemed in one spot to grow clear, and suddenly the pale moon +shone and shimmered upon the sea. The landscape gained in loveliness, +the sheep seemed like phantoms, the solitary barns like monsters of the +night. And the hills were like giants sleeping, and the long outlines +were prolonged far away into the depths and mistiness of space. Turning +again and looking through a vista in the hills, John could see Brighton, +a pale cloud of fire, set by the moon-illumined sea, and nearer was +Southwick, grown into separate lines of light, that wandered into and +lost themselves among the outlying hollows of the hills; and below him +and in front of him Shoreham lay, a blaze of living fire, a thousand +lights; lights everywhere save in one gloomy spot, and there John knew +that his beloved was lying dead. And further away, past the shadowy +marshy shores, was Worthing, the palest of nebulae in these earthly +constellations; and overhead the stars of heaven shone as if in pitiless +disdain. The blown hawthorn bush that stands by the burgh leaned out, a +ship sailed slowly across the rays of the moon. Yesterday they parted +here in the glad golden sunlight, parted for ever, for ever. + +"Yesterday I had all things--a sweet wife and happy youthful days to +look forward to. To-day I have nothing; all my hopes are shattered, all +my illusions have fallen. So is it always with him who places his trust +in life. Ah, life, life, what hast thou for giving save cruel deceptions +and miserable wrongs? Ah, why did I leave my life of contemplation and +prayer to enter into that of desire.... Ah, I knew, well I knew there +was no happiness save in calm and contemplation. Ah, well I knew; and +she is gone, gone, gone!" + +We suffer differently indeed, but we suffer equally. The death of his +sweetheart forces one man to reflect anew on the slightness of life's +pleasures and the depth of life's griefs. In the peaceful valley of +natural instincts and affections he had slept for a while, now he awoke +on one of the high peaks lit with the rays of intense consciousness, +and he cried aloud, and withdrew in terror at a too vivid realisation of +self. The other man wept for the daughter that had gone out of his life, +wept for her pretty face and cheerful laughter, wept for her love, wept +for the years he would live without her. We know which sorrow is the +manliest, which appeals to our sympathy, but who can measure the depth +of John Norton's suffering? It was as vast as the night, cold as the +stream of moonlit sea. + +He did not arrive home till late, and having told his mother what had +happened, he instantly retired to his room. Dreams followed him. The +hills were in his dreams. There were enemies there; he was often pursued +by savages, and he often saw Kitty captured; nor could he ever evade +their wandering vigilance and release her. Again and again he awoke, and +remembered that she was dead. + +Next morning John and Mrs Norton drove to the rectory, and without +asking for Mr Hare, they went up to _her_ room. The windows were open, +and Annie and Mary Austin sat by the bedside watching. The blood had +been washed out of the beautiful hair, and she lay very white and fair +amid the roses her friends had brought her. She lay as she had lain in +one of her terrible dreams--quite still, the slender body covered by a +sheet, moulding it with sculptured delight and love. From the feet the +linen curved and marked the inflections of the knees; there were long +flowing folds, low-lying like the wash of retiring water; the rounded +shoulders, the neck, the calm and bloodless face, the little nose, and +the beautiful drawing of the nostrils, the extraordinary waxen pallor, +the eyelids laid like rose leaves upon the eyes that death has closed +for ever. Within the arm, in the pale hand extended, a great Eucharis +lily had been laid, its carved blossoms bloomed in unchanging stillness, +and the whole scene was like a sad dream in the whitest marble. + +Candles were burning, and the soft smell of wax mixed with the perfume +of the roses. For there were roses everywhere--great snowy bouquets, and +long lines of scattered blossoms, and single roses there and here, and +petals fallen and falling were as tears shed for the beautiful dead, and +the white flowerage vied with the pallor and the immaculate stillness of +the dead. + +The calm chastity, the lonely loveliness, so sweetly removed from taint +of passion, struck John with all the emotion of art. He reproached +himself for having dreamed of her rather as a wife than as a sister, and +then all art and all conscience went down as a broken wreck in the wild +washing sea of deep human love: he knelt by her bedside, and sobbed +piteously, a man whose life is broken. + +When they next saw her she was in her coffin. It was almost full of +white blossoms--jasmine, Eucharis lilies, white roses, and in the midst +of the flowers you saw the hands folded, and the face was veiled with +some delicate filmy handkerchief. + +For the funeral there were crosses and wreaths of white flowers, roses +and stephanotis. And the Austin girls and their cousins who had come +from Brighton and Worthing carried loose flowers. How black and sad, how +homely and humble they seemed. Down the short drive, through the iron +gate, through the farm gate, the bearers staggering a little under the +weight of lead, the little cortège passed two by two. A broken-hearted +lover, a grief-stricken father, and a dozen sweet girls, their eyes and +cheeks streaming with tears. Kitty, their girl-friend was dead, dead, +dead! The words rang in their hearts in answer to the mournful tolling +of the bell. The little by-way along which they went, the little green +path leading over the hill, under trees shot through and through with +the whiteness of summer seas, was strewn with blossoms fallen from the +bier and the dolent fingers of the weeping girls. + +The old church was all in white; great lilies in vases, wreaths of +stephanotis; and, above all, roses--great garlands of white roses had +been woven, and they hung along and across. A blossom fell, a sob +sounded in the stillness; and how trivial it all seemed, and how +impotent to assuage the bitter burning of human sorrow: how paltry and +circumscribed the old grey church, with its little graveyard full of +forgotten griefs and aspirations! This hour of beautiful sorrow and +roses, how long will it be remembered? The coffin sinks out of sight, +out of sight for ever, a snow-drift of delicate bloom descending into +the earth. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +From the Austin girls, whose eyes followed him, from Mr Hare, from Mrs +Norton, John wandered sorrowfully away,--he wandered through the green +woods and fields into the town. He stood by the railway gates. He saw +the people coming and going in and out of the public houses; and he +watched the trains that whizzed past, and he understood nothing, not +even why the great bar of the white gate did not yield beneath the +pressure of his hands; and in the great vault of the blue sky, white +clouds melted and faded to sheeny visions of paradise, to a white form +with folded wings, and eyes whose calm was immortality.... + +A train stopped. He took a ticket and went to Brighton. As they +steamed along a high embankment, he found himself looking into a +little suburban cemetery. The graves, the yews, the sharp church spire +touching the range of the hills. _Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust +to dust_, and the dread responsive rattle given back by the coffin lid. +He watched the group in the distant corner, and its very remoteness and +removal from his personal knowledge and concern, moved him to passionate +grief and tears.... + +He walked through the southern sunlight of the town to the long expanse +of sea. The mundane pier is taut and trim, and gay with the clangour +of the band, the brown sails of the fishing boats wave in the translucid +greens of water; and the white field of the sheer cliff, and all the +roofs, gables, spires, balconies, and the green of the verandahs are +exquisitely indicated and elusive in the bright air; and the beach +is strange with acrobats and comic songs, nursemaids lying on the +pebbles reading novels, children with their clothes tied tightly about +them building sand castles zealously; see the lengthy crowd of +promenaders--out of its ranks two little spots of mauve come running +to meet the advancing wave, and now they fly back again, and now they +come again frolicking like butterflies, as gay and as bright. + +Under the impulse of his ravening grief, John watched the spectacle +of the world's forgetfulness, and the seeming obscenity horrified him +even to the limits of madness. He cried that it might pass from him. +Solitude--the solemn peace of the hills, the appealing silence of a +pine wood at even; how holy is the idea of solitude, find it where you +will. The Gothic pile, the apostles and saints of the windows, the deep +purples and crimsons, and the sunlight streaming through, and the +pathetic responses and the majesty of the organ do not take away, but +enhance and affirm the sensation of idea and God. The quiet rooms +austere with Latin and crucifix; John could see them. Fondly he allowed +these fancies to linger, but through the dream a sense of reality began +to grow, and he remembered the narrowness of the life, when viewed from +the material side, and its necessary promiscuousness, and he thought +with horror of the impossibility of the preservation of that personal +life, with all its sanctuary-like intensity, which was so dear to him. +He waved away all thought of priesthood, and walking quickly down the +pier, looking on the gay panorama of town and beach, he said, "The +world shall be my monastery." + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11733 *** diff --git a/11733-h/11733-h.htm b/11733-h/11733-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06c75e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/11733-h/11733-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5048 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Mere Accident, by George Moore</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; + size: 5; } + BODY {font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 4em;} + a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 9pt;} + // --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11733 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook,<br> + A Mere Accident, by George Moore</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<h1>A MERE ACCIDENT</h1> + +<h2>BY GEORGE MOORE</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "A MUMMER'S WIFE," "A MODERN LOVER,"<br> +"A DRAMA IN MUSLIN,""SPRING DAYS," ETC.</h4> + +<h4>FIFTH EDITION</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<center> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X.</b></a><br><br> + </center> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<b>TO: My Friends at Buckingham.</b> + +<p>Nearly twenty years have gone since first we met, dear friends; time has +but strengthened our early affections, so for love token, for sign of +the years, I bring you this book—these views of your beautiful house +and hills where I have spent so many happy days, these last perhaps the +happiest of all.</p> + +G. M. + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<h1>A MERE ACCIDENT</h1> +<p> </p> +<a name="CHAPTER_I"></a><h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. The grasses are lush, and the hedges are tall +and luxuriant. Restless boys scramble to and fro, quiet nursemaids +loiter, and a vagrant has sat down to rest though the bank is dripping +with autumn rain. How fair a prospect of southern England! Land of +exquisite homeliness and order; land of town that is country, of country +that is town; land of a hundred classes all deftly interwoven and all +waxing to one class—England. Land encrowned with the gifts of peaceful +days—days that live in thy face and the faces of thy children.</p> + +<p>See it. The outlying villas with their porches and laurels, the red +tiled farm houses, and the brown barns, clustering beneath the wings of +beautiful trees—elm trees; see the flat plots of ground of the market +gardens, with figures bending over baskets of roots; see the factory +chimney; there are trees and gables everywhere; see the end of the +terrace, the gleam of glass, the flower vase, the flitting white of the +tennis players; see the long fields with the long team ploughing, see +the parish church, see the embowering woods, see the squire's house, see +everything and love it, for everything here is England.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road, leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. It disappears in the woods which lean across the +fields towards the downs. The great bluff heights can be seen, and at +the point where the roads cross, where the tall trunks are listed with +golden light, stands a large wooden gate and a small box-like lodge. A +lonely place in a densely-populated county. The gatekeeper is blind, and +his flute sounds doleful and strange, and the leaves are falling.</p> + +<p>The private road is short and stony. Apparently space was found for it +with difficulty, and it got wedged between an enormous holly hedge and a +stiff wooden paling. But overhead the great branches fight upwards +through a tortuous growth to the sky, and, as you advance, Thornby Place +continues to puzzle you with its medley of curious and contradictory +aspects. For as the second gate, which is in iron, is approached, your +thoughts of rural things are rudely scattered by sight of what seems a +London mews. Reason with yourself. This very urban feature is occasioned +by the high brick wall which runs parallel with the stables, and this, +as you pass round to the front of the house, is hidden in the clothing +foliage of a line of evergreen oaks; continuing along the lawn, the +trees bend about the house—a wash of Naples-yellow, a few sharp Italian +lines and angles. To complete the sketch, indicate the wings of the +blown rooks on the sullen sky.</p> + +<p>But our purpose lies deeper than that which inspires a water-colour +sketch. We must learn when and why that house was built; we must see how +the facts reconcile its somewhat tawdry, its somewhat suburban aspect, +with the richer and more romantic aspects of the park. The park is even +now, though it be the middle of autumn, full of blowing green, and the +brown circling woods, full of England and English home life. That single +tree in the foreground is a lime; what a splendour of leafage it will be +in the summer! Those four on the right are chestnuts, and those far +away, lying between us and the imperial downs, are elms; through that +vista you can see the grand line, the abrupt hollows, and the bit of +chalk road cut zig-zag out of the steep side. Then why the anomaly of +Italian urns and pilasters; why not red Elizabethan gables and diamond +casements?</p> + +<p>Why not? Because at the beginning of the century, when Brighton was +being built, fragments of architectural gossip were flying about Sussex, +and one of these had found its way to, and had rested in, the heart of +the grandfather of the present owner: in a simple and bucolic way he had +been seized by a desire for taste and style, and the present building +was the result. Therefore it will be well to examine in detail the house +which young John Norton of '86 was so fond of declaring he could never +see without becoming instantly conscious of a sense of dislike, a hatred +that he was fond of describing as a sort of constitutional complaint +which he was never quite free from, and which any view of the Rockery, +or the pilasters of the French bow-window, or indeed of anything +pertaining to Thornby Place, called at once into an active existence.</p> + +<p>Thornby Place is but two stories high, and its spruce walls of Portland +stone and ashlar work rise sheer out of the green sward; in front, Doric +columns support a heavy entablature, and there are urns at the corners +of the building. The six windows on the ground floor are topped with +round arches, and coming up the drive the house seems a perfect square. +But this regularity of structure has on the east side been somewhat +interfered with by a projection of some thirty or forty feet—a billiard +room, in fine, which during John's minority Mrs Norton had thought +proper to add. But she had lived to rue her experiment, for to this +young man, with his fretful craving for beauty and exactness of +proportion, it is an ever present source of complaint; and he had once +in a half humorous, half serious way, gone so far as to avail himself of +the "eyesore," as he called it, to excuse his constant absence from +home, and as a pretence for shutting himself up in his dear college, +with his cherished Latin authors. It was partly for the sake of avenging +himself on his mother, whose decisive practicality jarred the delicate +music of a nature extravagantly ideal, that he so severely criticised +all that she held sacred; and his strictures fell heaviest on the bow +window, looking somewhat like a temple with its small pilasters +supporting the rich cornice from which the dwarf vaulting springs. The +loggia, he admitted, although painfully out of keeping with the +surrounding country, was not wholly wanting in design, and he admired +its columns of a Doric order, and likewise the cornice that like a crown +encompasses the house. The entrance is under the loggia; there are round +arched windows on either side, a square window under the roof, and the +hall door is in solid oak studded with ornamental nails.</p> + +<p>On entering you find yourself in a common white-painted passage, and on +either side of the drawing-room and dining-room are four allegorical +female heads: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Further on is the +hall, with its short polished oak stairway sloping gently to a balcony; +and there are white painted pillars that support the low roof, and these +pillars make a kind of entrance to the passage which traverses the +house from end to end. England—England clear and spotless! Nowhere do +you find a trace of dust or disorder. The arrangement of things is +somewhat mechanical. The curtains and wall-paper in the bedrooms are +suggestive of trades people and housemaids; no hastily laid aside book +or shawl breaks the excessive orderliness. Every piece of furniture is +in its appointed place, and nothing testifies to the voluntariness of +the occupant, or the impulse prompted by the need of the moment. On the +presses at the ends of the passages, where is stored the house linen, +cards are hung bearing this inscription: "When washing the woodwork the +servants are requested to use no soda without first obtaining permission +from Mrs Norton." This detail was especially distasteful to John; he +often thought of it when away, and it was one of the many irritating +impressions which went to make up the sum of his dislike of Thornby +Place.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton is now crying her last orders to the servants; and although +dressed elaborately as if to receive visitors, she has not yet laid +aside her basket of keys. She is in her forty-fifth year. Her figure is +square and strong, and not devoid of matronly charm. It approves a +healthy mode of life, and her quick movements are indicative of her +sharp determined mind. Her face is somewhat small for her shoulders, the +temples are narrow and high, the nose is long and thin, the cheek bones +are prominent, the chin is small, but unsuggestive of weakness, the lips +are pinched, the complexion is flushed, and the eyes set close above the +long thin nose are an icy grey. Mrs Norton is a handsome woman. Her +fashionably-cut silk fits her perfectly; the skirt is draped with grace +and precision, and the glossy shawl with the long soft fringe is elegant +and delightfully mundane. She raises her double gold eyeglasses, and, +contracting her forehead, stares pryingly about her; and so fashionable +is she, and her modernity is so picturesque, that for a moment you think +of the entrance of a duchess in the first act of a piece by Augier +played on the stage of the Français.</p> + +<p>Still holding her gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she descended the +broad stairs to the hall, and from thence she went into the library. +There are two small bookcases filled with sombre volumes, and the busts +of Molière and Shakespeare attempt to justify the appellation. But there +is in the character, I was almost going to say in the atmosphere of the +room, that same undefinable, easily recognizable something which +proclaims the presence of non-readers. The traces of three or four days, +at the most a week, which John occasionally spent at Thornby Place, were +necessarily ephemeral, and the weakness of Mrs Norton's sight rendered +continuous reading impossible. Sometimes Kitty Hare brought a novel from +the circulating library to read aloud, and sometimes John forgot one of +his books, and a volume of Browning still lay on the table. The room was +filled with shadow and mournfulness, and in a dusty grate the fire +smouldered.</p> + +<p>Between this room and the drawing-room, in a recess formed by the bow +window, Mrs Norton kept her birds, and still peering through her +gold-rimmed glasses, she examined their seed-troughs and water-glasses, +and, having satisfied herself as to their state, she entered the +drawing-room. There is little in this room; no pictures relieve the +widths of grey colourless wall paper, and the sombre oak floor is spaced +with a few pieces of furniture—heavy furniture enshrouded in grey linen +cloths. Three French cabinets, gaudy with vile veneer and bright brass, +are nailed against the walls, and the empty room is reflected dismally +in the great gold mirror which faces the vivid green of the sward and +the duller green of the encircling elms of the park.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton let her eyes wander, and sighing she went into the +dining-room. The dining-room is always the most human of rooms, and the +dining-room in Thornby Place, although allied to the other rooms in an +absence of fancy in its arrangement, shows prettily in contrast to them +with its white cloth cheerful with flowers and ferns. The floor is +covered with a tightly stretched red cloth, the chairs are set in +symmetrical rows; with the exception of a black clock there is no +ornament on the chimney-piece, and a red cloth screen conceals the door +used by the servants.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton walked with her quiet decisive step to the window, and +holding the gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she looked into the +landscape as if she were expecting someone to appear. The day was grimy +with clouds; mist had risen, and it hung out of the branches of the elms +like a veil of white gauze. Withdrawing her eye from the vague prospect +before her, Mrs Norton played listlessly with the tassel of one of the +blinds. "Surely," she thought, "he cannot have been foolish enough to +have walked over the downs such a day as this;" then, raising her +glasses again she looked out at the smallest angle with the wall of the +house, so that she should get sight of a vista through which any one +coming from Shoreham would have to pass. Presently a silhouette +appeared on the sullen sky. Mrs Norton moved precipitately from the +window, and she rang the bell sharply.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, "Mr Hare has been going in for one of his long walks. +I see him now coming across the park. I am sure he has walked over the +downs; if so he must be wet through. Have a fire lighted in Mr Norton's +room, put up a pair of slippers for him: here is the key of Mr Norton's +wardrobe; let Mr Hare have what he wants."</p> + +<p>And having detached one from the many bunches which filled her basket, +she went herself to open the door to her visitor. He was however still +some distance away, and standing in the shelter of the loggia she waited +for him, watched the vague silhouette resolving itself into colour and +line. But it was not until he climbed the iron fence which separated the +park from the garden grounds that the figure grew into its +individuality. Then you saw a man of about forty, about the medium +height and inclined to stoutness. His face was round and florid, and it +was set with sandy whiskers. His white necktie proclaimed him a parson, +and the grey mud with which his boots were bespattered told of his long +walk. As is generally the case with those of his profession, he spoke +fluently, his voice was melodious, and his rapid answers and his bright +eyes saved him from appearing commonplace. In addressing Mrs Norton he +used her Christian name.</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, Lizzie, you are quite right; I shouldn't have done +it: had I known what a state the roads were in, I wouldn't have +attempted it."</p> + +<p>"What is the use of talking like that, as if you didn't know what these +roads were like! For twenty years you have been making use of them, and +if you don't know what they are like in winter by this time, all I can +say is that you never will."</p> + +<p>"I never saw them in the state they are now; such a slush of chalk and +clay was never seen."</p> + +<p>"What can you expect after a month of heavy rain? You are wringing wet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was caught in a heavy shower as I was crossing over by +Fresh-Combe-bottom. I am certainly not in a fit state to come into your +dining-room."</p> + +<p>"I should think not indeed! I really believe if I were to allow it, you +would sit the whole afternoon in your wet clothes. You'll find +everything ready for you in John's room. I'll give you ten minutes. I'll +tell them to bring up lunch in ten minutes. Stay, will you have a glass +of wine before going upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid of spoiling your carpet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed! not one step further! I'll fetch it for you."</p> + +<p>When the parson had drunk the wine, and was following the butler +upstairs, Mrs Norton returned to the dining-room with the empty glass in +her hand. She placed it on the chimney piece; she stirred the fire, and +her thoughts flowed pleasantly as she dwelt on the kindness of her old +friend. "He only got my note this morning," she mused. "I wonder if he +will be able to persuade John to return home." Mrs Norton, in her own +hard, cold way, loved her son, but in truth she thought more of the +power of which he was the representative than of the man himself: the +power to take to himself a wife—a wife who would give an heir to +Thornby Place. This was to be the achievement of Mrs Norton's life, and +the difficulties that intervened were too absorbing for her to think +much whether her son would find happiness in marriage; nor was it +natural to her to set much store on the refining charm and the uniting +influences of mental sympathies. Had she not passed the age when the +sentimental emotions are liveliest? And the fibre was wanting in her to +take into much account the whispering or the silence of passion.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton saw in marriage nothing but the child, and in the child +nothing but an heir—that is to say, a male who would continue the name +and traditions of Thornby Place. This would seem to indicate a material +nature, but such a misapprehension arises from the common habit of +confusing pure thought—thought which proceeds direct from the brain +and lives uncoloured by the material wants of life—with instincts whose +complexity often causes them to appear as mental potentialities, whereas +they are but instincts, inherited promptings, and aversions more or less +modified by physical constitution and the material forces of the life in +which the constitution has grown up; and yet, though pure thought, that +is to say the power of detaching oneself from the webs of life and +viewing men and things from a height, is the rarest of gifts, many are +possessed of sufficient intellectuality to enjoy with the brain apart +from the senses. Mrs Norton was such an one. After five o'clock tea she +would ask Kitty to read to her, and drawing her shawl about her +shoulders, would readily abandon the intellectual side of her nature to +the seductive charm of the romantic story of James of Scotland; and +while to the girl the heroism and chivalry were a little clouded by the +quaint turns of Rossetti's verse, to the woman these were added +delights, which her quiet penetrating understanding followed and took +instant note of.</p> + +<p>"Were mother and son ever so different?" was the common remark. The +artistic was the side of Mrs Norton's character that was unaffectedly +kept out of sight, just as young John Norton was careful to hide from +public knowledge his strict business habits, and to expose, perhaps a +little ostentatiously, the spiritual impulses in which he was so deeply +concerned: the subtle refinement of sacred places, from the mystery of +the great window with its mitres and croziers to the sunlit path between +the tombs where the children play, the curious and yet natural charm +that attendance in the sacristy had for him, the arrangement of the +large oak presses, wherein are stored the fine altar linen and the +chalices, the distributing of the wine and water that were not for +bodily need, and the wearing of the flowing surplices, the murmuring of +the Latin responses that helped so wonderfully to enforce the impression +of beautiful and refined life which was his, and which he lived beyond +the gross influences of the wholly temporal life which he knew was +raging almost but not quite out of hearing. But, however marked may be +the accidental variations of character, hereditary instincts are +irresistible, and in obedience to them John neglected nothing that +concerned his pecuniary instincts. He was in daily communication with +his agent, and the financial position of every farmer, and the state of +every farm on his property, were not only known to him but were +constantly borne in mind, and influenced him in that progressive +ordering of things which marked the administration of his property. He +was furnished quarterly with an account of all monies paid, to which +were joined descriptive notes of each farm, showing what alterations the +past three months had brought, and setting forth the agricultural +intentions and abilities of the occupier.</p> + +<p>John Norton waited the arrival of these accounts with a keen interest: +they were a relish to his life; and without experiencing any revulsion +of feeling, he would lay down a portfolio filled with photographs of +drawings by Leonardo da Vinci—studies of drapery, studies of hands and +feet, realistic studies of thin-lipped women and ecstatic angels with +the light upon their high foreheads—and cheerfully, and even with a +sense of satisfaction, he would untie the bald, prosaic roll of paper, +and seating himself at his window overlooking the long terrace, he would +add up the figures submitted to him, detecting the smallest arithmetical +error, making note of the least delay in payment of any money due, and +questioning the slightest overpayment for work done. The morning hours +fled as he pursued his congenial task; and from time to time he would +let his thoughts wander from the teasing computation of the money that +would be required to make the repairs that a certain farmer had +demanded, to the unworldly quiet of the sacristy; he would think, and +his thoughts contained an evanescent sense of the paradox, of the altar +linen he would have to fold and put away, and of the altar breads he +would presently have to write to London for; and meanwhile his eyes +would follow in delight the black figures of the Jesuits, who, with +cassocks blowing and berrettas set firmly on their heads, walked up and +down the long gravel walks reading their breviaries.</p> + +<p>And living thus, half in the persuasive charm of ceremonial, half in the +hard procession of account books, the last three years of John's life +had passed. On coming of age he had spent a few weeks at Thornby Place, +but the place, and especially the country, had appeared to him so +grossly protestant—so entirely occupied with the material +well-to-doness of life—that he declared he longed to breathe again the +breath of his beloved sacristy, that he must away from that close and +oppressive atmosphere of the flesh. Since then, with the exception of a +few visits of a few days he had lived at Stanton College, writing to his +mother not of the business which concerned his property, but of mental +problems and artistic impulses. On business matters he never consulted +her; but he thought it fortunate that she should choose to spend her +jointure on Thornby Place, and so save him a great deal of expense in +keeping up the house, which, although he disliked it with a dislike that +had grown inveterate, he was still unwilling to allow to fall to ruins.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton, as has been said, was capable of understanding much in the +abstract; so long as things, and ideas of things, did not come within +the circle of her practical life, they were judged from a liberal +standpoint, but so soon as they touched any personal consideration, they +were judged by a moral code that in no way corresponded to her +intellectual comprehension of the matter she so unhesitatingly +condemned. But by this it must by no means be understood that Mrs Norton +wore her conscience easily—that it was a garment that could be +shortened or lengthened to suit all weathers. Our diagnosis of Mrs +Norton's character involves no accusation of laxity of principle. Mrs +Norton was a woman with an intelligence, who had inherited in all its +primary force a code of morals that had grown up in the narrower minds +of less gifted generations. In talking to her you were conscious of two +active and opposing principles: reason and hereditary morality. I use +"opposing" as being descriptive of the state of soul that would +generally follow from such mental contradiction, but in Mrs Norton no +shocking conflict of thought was possible, her mind being always +strictly subservient to her instinctive standard of right and wrong.</p> + +<p>And John had inherited the moral temperament of his mother's family, and +with it his mother's intelligence, nor had the equipoise been disturbed +in the transmitting; his father's delicate constitution in inflicting +germs of disease had merely determined the variation represented by the +marked artistic impulses which John presented to the normal type of +either his father's or his mother's family. It would therefore seem that +any too sudden corrective of defect will result in anomaly, and, in the +case under notice, direct mingling of perfect health with spinal +weakness had germinated into a marked yearning for the heroic ages, for +the supernatural as contrasted with the meanness of the routine of +existence. And now before closing this psychical investigation, and +picking up the thread of the story, which will of course be no more than +an experimental demonstration of the working of the brain into which we +are looking, we must take note of two curious mental traits both living +side by side, and both apparently negative of the other's existence: an +intense and ever pulsatory horror of death, a sullen contempt and often +a ferocious hatred of life. The stress of mind engendered by the +alternating of these themes of suffering would have rendered life an +unbearable burden to John, had he not found anchorage in an invincible +belief in God, a belief which set in stormily for the pomp and opulence +of Catholic ceremonial, for the solemn Gothic arch and the jewelled joy +of painted panes, for the grace and the elegance and the order of +hieratic life.</p> + +<p>In a being whose soul is but the shadow of yours, a second soul looking +towards the same end as your soul, or in a being whose soul differs +radically, and is concerned with other satisfactions and other ideals, +you will most probably find some part of the happiness of your dreams, +but in intercourse with one who is grossly like you, but who is +absolutely different when the upper ways of character are taken into +account, there will be—no matter how inexorable are the ties that bind +—much fret and irritation and noisy clashing. It was so with John +Norton and his mother; even in the exercise of faculties that had been +directly transmitted from one to the other there had been angry +collision. For example:—their talents for business were identical; but +while she thought the admirable conduct of her affairs was a thing to be +proud of, he would affect an air of negligence, and would willingly +have it believed that he lived independent of such gross necessities. +Then his malady—for intense depression of the spirits was a malady with +him—offered an ever-recurring cause of misunderstanding. How irritating +it was when he lay shut up in his room, his soul looking down with +murderous eyes on the poor worm that writhed out its life in view of the +pitiless stars, and longing with a fierce wild longing to shake off the +burning garment of consciousness, and plunge into the black happiness of +the grave, to hear Mrs Norton on the threshold uttering from time to +time admonitory remarks.</p> + +<p>"You should not give way to such feelings, sir; you should not allow +yourself to be unhappy. Look at me, am I unhappy? and I have more to +bear with than you, but I am not always thinking of myself.... I am in +fairly good health, and I am always cheerful! Why are you not the same? +You bring it all upon yourself; I have no pity for you.... You should +cease to think of yourself, and try to do your duty."</p> + +<p>John groaned when he heard this last word. He knew very well what his +mother meant. He should buy three hunters, he should marry. These were +the anodynes that were offered to him in and out of season. "Bad enough +that I should exist! Why precipitate another into the gulf of being?" +"Consort with men whose ideal hovers between a stable boy and a +veterinary surgeon;" and then, amused by the paradox, John, to whom the +chase was evocative of forests, pageantry, spears, would quote some +stirring verses of an old ballad, and allude to certain pictures by +Rubens, Wouvermans, and Snyders. "Why do you talk in that way?" "Why do +you seek to make yourself ridiculous?" Mrs Norton would retort.</p> + +<p>Smiling just a little sorrowfully, John would withdraw, and on the +following day he would leave for Stanton College. And it was thus that +Mrs Norton's temper scarred with deep wounds a nature so pale and +delicate, so exposed that it seemed as if wanting an outer skin; and as +Thornby Place appeared to him little more than a comprehensive symbol +of what he held mean, even obscene in life, his visits had grown shorter +and fewer, until now his absence extended to the verge of the second +year, and besieged by the belief that he was contemplating priesthood, +Mrs Norton had written to her old friend, saying that she wanted to +speak to him on matters of great importance. Now maturing her plans for +getting her boy back, she stood by the bare black mantel-piece, her head +leaning on her hand. She uttered an exclamation when Mr Hare entered.</p> + +<p>"What," she said, "you haven't changed your things, and I told you you +would find a suit of John's clothes. I must insist—"</p> + +<p>"My dear Lizzie, no amount of insistance would get me into a pair of +John's trousers. I am thirteen stone and a half, and he is not much over +ten."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I had forgotten, but what are you to do? Something must be done, +you will catch your death of cold if you remain in your wet clothes.... +You are wringing wet."</p> + +<p>"No, I assure you I am not. My feet were a little wet, but I have +changed my stockings and shoes. And now, tell me, Lizzie, what there is +for lunch," he said, speaking rapidly to silence Mrs Norton, whom he saw +was going to protest again.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know it is difficult to get much at this season of the year. +There are some chickens and some curried rabbit, but I am afraid you +will suffer for it if you remain the whole of the afternoon in those wet +clothes; I really cannot, I will not allow it."</p> + +<p>"My dear Lizzie, my dear Lizzie," cried the parson, laughing all over +his rosy skinned and sandy whiskered face, "I must beg of you not to +excite yourself. I have no intention of committing any of the +imprudences you anticipate. I will trouble you for a wing of that +chicken. James, I'll take a glass of sherry,... and while I am eating it +you shall explain as succinctly as possible the matter you are minded +to consult me on, and when I have mastered the subject in all its +various details, I will advise you to the best of my power, and having +done so I will start on my walk across the hills."</p> + +<p>"What! you mean to say you are going to walk home?... We shall have +another downpour presently."</p> + +<p>"Even so. I cannot come to much harm so long as I am walking, whereas if +I drove home in your carriage I might catch a chill.... It is at least +ten miles to Shoreham by the road, while across the hills it is not more +than six."</p> + +<p>"Six! it is eight if it is a yard!"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps it is; but tell me, I am curious to hear what you want to +talk to me about.... Something about John, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is, what else have I to think about; what else concerns +middle-aged people like you and me but our children? Of course I want to +talk to you about John. Something must be done, things cannot go on as +they are. Why, it is nearly two years since he has been home. Oh, that +boy is breaking my heart, and none suspects it. If you knew how it +annoys me when the Gardiners and the Prestons congratulate me on having +a son so well behaved. They know he looks after his property sharp +enough, no drinking, no bad company, no debts. Ah! they little know.... +I would much sooner he were wild and foolish: young men get over those +kind of faults, but he will never get over his."</p> + +<p>Mr Hare felt these views to be of a doubtful orthodoxy, but he did not +press his opinion, and contented himself with murmuring gently that for +the moment he did not see that John's faults were of a particularly +aggravated character.</p> + +<p>"You do not see that his faults should cause me any uneasiness! Perhaps +it is very lucky he is not here, or you might encourage him in them. I +suppose you think he is doing quite right in spending his life at +Stanton College, aping a priest and talking about Gothic arches. Is it a +proper thing to transact all his business through a solicitor, and +never to see his tenants? Why does he not come and live at his own +beautiful place? Why does he not take up his position in the county? He +is not a magistrate. Why does he not get married?... he is the last; +there is no one to follow him. But he never thinks of that—he is afraid +that a woman might prove a disturbing influence in his life ... he feels +that he must live in an atmosphere of higher emotions. That's the way he +talks, and he is meditating, I assure you, a book on the literature of +the Middle Ages, on the works of bishops and monks who wrote Latin in +the early centuries. His mind, he says, is full of the cadences of that +language. That's the way he writes. He never asks me about his property, +never consults me in anything. Here is a letter I received yesterday. +Listen:</p> +<br> +<p>"'The poverty of spiritual life amid the western pagans could not fail to +encourage the growth of new religious tendencies. An epoch of great +spiritual activity had been succeeded by one of complete stagnation. A +glance at the literary progress of Rome since Tiberius will show this +emancipation from national and political considerations, the influence +of cosmopolitanism gave to the best specimens of Latin prose of the +silver age such riches and variety of substance and such individuality +of expression, that Seneca and Tacitus and the letters of Pliny are +marked with many modern characteristics. Form and language appear in +these writers only as the instrument and the matter wherewith men of +genius would express their intimate personality. Here antique culture +rises above itself, but, mark you, at the expense of all that is proper +to the Roman nation. Cosmopolitan Hellenism forces and breaks down the +bars of classical traditions, and, weary of restrictions these writers +first sought personal satisfaction, and then addressed themselves to +scholars rather than the people.</p> + +<p>"'But Hellenism found its medium in the Greek language, rich to +satiety, and possessing a syntax of such extraordinary flexibility, that +it could follow all evolutions without being shaken in its organism. It +was in vain that the Latin literature sought to maintain its position by +harking back to the writers anterior to Cicero, those that Hellenism had +not touched, and presenting them as models of style; and thus a new +school very fain of antiquity had sprung up, with Fronto for its +acknowledged chief—a school pre-occupied above all things by the form; +obsolete words set in a new setting, modern words introduced into old +cadences to freshen them with a bright and delightful varnish, in a +word, a language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea +and evanescent music—a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency +that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays—an autumn +forest.'</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to +call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediæval +Latin. And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton +College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical +cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.' +Do you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would +you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the +chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about +organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever +hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it +would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them +better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I want +you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow, or +next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must +tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year, +building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent, +but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks +he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just +fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to +distant relatives—to those terrible cousins of ours."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have +not seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I +don't think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are +after his money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the +priesthood in order that they may get hold of his property."</p> + +<p>"No, no; you must not say such a thing. I will not have you say anything +against his religion. I was very wrong to suggest such a thing. I am +sure no such idea ever entered the Jesuits' heads. Perhaps I am wrong to +send you to them.... Now I depend on you not to speak to him on +religious subjects."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_II"></a><h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Mrs Norton had known William Hare all her life. She was the youngest +daughter, he the youngest son of equal Yorkshire families. Separated by +about a mile of pasture and woodland, these families had for generations +lived unanimous lives. In England the hunting field, the grouse moor, +the croquet and tennis lawn, with its charming adjunct the five-o'clock +tea-table, have made life in certain classes almost communal; and Mrs +Norton and William Hare had stood in white frocks under Christmas trees +and shared sweetmeats. He often thought of the first time he saw her, +wearing a skirt that fell below her ankles, with her hair done up. And +she remembered his first appearance in evening clothes, and how +surprised and delighted she was to hear him ask her if he might have the +pleasure of a waltz.</p> + +<p>He went to Oxford to take his degree; she was taken to London for the +season, and towards the end of the third year she married Mr Norton, and +went to live at Thornby Place. Through the excitement of the marriage +arrangements, and the rapid impressions of her honeymoon, the thought of +having for neighbour the playmate of her youth had flitted across, but +had not rested in, her mind, and she did not realize the charm that it +was for her until one afternoon, now more than twenty years ago, a young +curate, bespattered with the grey mud of the downs, had startled her and +her husband by addressing her as Lizzie. Lizzie she had remained to him, +he was William to her, and henceforth their lives had been indissolubly +linked. Not a week had passed without their seeing each other. There +were visits to pay, there was hunting, and then habit intervened; and +for many years, in suffering, in joy, in hope, their thoughts had +instinctively looked to each other for reflective sympathy, and every +remembrable event was full of mutual associations. He had sat by her +when, after the birth of her first and only child, she lay pale, +beautiful, and weak on a sofa by a window blown by the tide of summer +scent; and the autumn of that same year he had walked with her in the +garden, where the leaves fell like the last illusion of youth under the +tears of an incurable grief; and staying in their walk they looked on +the house which was to be for evermore one of widowhood.</p> + +<p>Had she ever loved him? Had he ever loved her? In moments of passionate +loneliness she had yearned for his protection; in moments of deep +dejection he had dreamed of the happiness he might have found with her; +but in the broad day of their lives they had ever thought of each other +as friends. He had advised her on the management of her estate, on the +education of her son; and in his afflictions—in his widowerhood—when +his children quickly followed their mother to the grave, Mrs Norton's +form, face, and words had steadied him, and had helped him to bear with +a life of crumbling ruin. Kitty was now the only one that remained to +him.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton had had projects of wealth and title for her son, but his +continued disdain of women and the love of women had long since forced +her to abandon her hopes, and now any one he might select she would +gladly welcome; but she whom Mrs Norton would have preferred to all +others was the daughter of her old friend. Her son had deserted her, and +now all her affections were centred in Kitty. Kitty was as much at +Thornby Place as at the Rectory, and in the gaiety of her bright eyes, +and in the shine of her gold-brown hair—for ever slipping from the gold +hair-pins in frizzed masses—Mrs Norton continued her dreams of her +son's marriage.</p> + +<p>Mr Hare thought it harsh that his daughter should be so constantly taken +from him, but the parsonage was so lonely for Kitty, and there were +luncheon and tennis parties at Thornby Place, and Mrs Norton took the +girl out for drives, and together they visited all the county families. +A suspicion of matchmaking sometimes crossed Mr Hare's mind, but it +faded in the knowledge that John was always at Stanton College; and to +send this fair flower to his great—to his only—friend, was a joy, and +the bitterness of temporary loss was forgotten in the sweetness of the +sharing. He had suffered much; but these last years had been quiet, free +from despair at least, and he wished to drift a little longer with the +tide of this time. Why strive to hasten events? If this thing was to be, +it would be. So he had thought of his daughter's marriage. Fancies had +long hung about the confines of his mind, but nothing had struck him +with the full force of a thought until suddenly he understood the exact +purport of his mission to Stanton College. He leaned forward as if he +were going to tell the driver to return, but before he could do so the +lodge-keeper opened the great gate, and the hansom cab rattled under the +archway.</p> + +<p>Then he viewed the scheme in general outline and in remote detail. It +was very simple. Lizzie had been to Shoreham, and had taken Kitty away +with her; he had been sent to Stanton College to beg John Norton to +return to Thornby Place, and to say what he could in favour of marriage +generally. This was very compromising. He had been deceived; Lizzie had +deceived him. She had no right to do such a thing; and, striving to +determine on a line of conduct, Mr Hare examined abstractedly the place +he was passing through.</p> + +<p>In large and serpentine curves the road wound through a wood of small +beech trees—so small that in the November dishevelment the plantations +were like so much brushwood; and, lying behind the wind-swept opening, +gravel walks appeared in grey fragments, and the green spaces of the +cricket field with a solitary divine reading his breviary. The drive +turned and turned again in great sloping curves; more divines were +passed, and then there came a long terrace with a balustrade and a view +of the open country, now full of mist. And to see the sharp spire of +the distant church you had to look closely, and slanting slowly upwards +the great plain drew a long and melancholy line across the sky. The +lower terrace was approached by an imposing flight of steps, there were +myriads of leaves in the air, and the college bell rang in its high red +tower.</p> + +<p>The high red walls of the college faced the dismal terraces, and the +triple line of diamond-paned and iron-barred windows stared upon the +ugly Staffordshire landscape. A square tower squatted in the middle of +the building, and out of it rose the octagon of the bell tower, and in +the tower wall was the great oak door studded with great nails.</p> + +<p>"How Birmingham the whole place does look," thought Mr Hare, as he laid +his hand on an imitation mediæval bell-pull.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr John Norton at home?" he asked when the servant came. "Will you +give him my card, and say that I should like to see him."</p> + +<p>On entering, Mr Hare found himself in a tiled hall, around which was +built a staircase in varnished oak. There was a quadrangle, and from +three sides the interminable latticed windows looked down on the green +sward; on the fourth there was an open corridor, with arches to imitate +a cloister. All was strong and barren, and only about the varnished +staircase was there any sign of comfort. There a virgin in bright blue +stood on a crescent moon; above her the ceiling was panelled in oak, and +the banisters, the cocoa nut matting, the bit of stained glass, and the +religious prints, suggested a mock air of hieratic dignity. And the room +Mr Hare was shown into continued this impression. Cabinets in carved oak +harmonised with high-backed chairs glowing with red Utrecht velvet, and +a massive table, on which lay a folio edition of St Augustine's "City of +God" and the "Epistolæ Consolitoriæ" of St Jerome.</p> + +<p>The bell continued to clang, and through the latticed windows Mr Hare +watched the divines hurrying along the windy terrace, and the tramp of +the boys going to their class-rooms could be heard in passages below.</p> + +<p>Then a young man entered. He was thin, and he was dressed in black. His +face was very Roman, the profile especially was what you might expect to +find on a Roman coin—a high nose, a high cheek-bone, a strong chin, and +a large ear. The eyes were prominent and luminous, and the lower part of +the face was expressive of resolution and intelligence, but above the +eyes there were many indications of cerebral distortions. The forehead +was broad, but the temples retreated rapidly to the brown hair which +grew luxuriantly on the top of the head, leaving what the phrenologists +call the bumps of ideality curiously exposed, and this, taken in +conjunction with the yearning of the large prominent eyes, suggested at +once a clear, delightful intelligence,—a mind timid, fearing, and +doubting, such a one as would seek support in mysticism and dogma, that +would rise instantly to a certain point, but to drop as suddenly as if +sickened by the too intense light of the cold, pure heaven of reason to +the gloom of the sanctuary and the consolations of Faith. Let us turn to +the mouth for a further indication of character. It was large, the lips +were thick, but without a trace of sensuality. They were dim in colour, +they were undefined in shape, they were a little meaningless—no, not +meaningless, for they confirmed the psychological revelations of the +receding temples. The hands were large, powerful, and grasping; they +were earthly hands; they were hands that could take and could hold, and +their materialism was curiously opposed to the ideality of the eyes—an +ideality that touched the confines of frenzy. The shoulders were square +and carried well back, the head was round, with close-cut hair, the +straight-falling coat was buttoned high, and the fashionable collar, +with a black satin cravat, beautifully tied and relieved with a rich +pearl pin, set another unexpected but singularly charmful detail to an +aggregate of apparently irreconcilable characteristics.</p> + +<p>"And how do you do, my dear Mr Hare? and who would have expected to see +you here? I am so glad to see you."</p> + +<p>These words were spoken frankly and cordially, and there was a note of +mundane cheerfulness in the voice which did not quite correspond with +the sacerdotal elegance of this young man. Then he added quickly, as if +to save himself from asking the reason of this very unexpected visit—</p> + +<p>"But you have never been here before; this is the first time you have +seen our college. And seeing it as it now is, you would not believe all +the delightful detail that a ray of sunlight awakens in that hideous +brown monotony, soaked with rain and bedimmed with mist."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can quite understand that the college is not looking its best on +a day like this. We have had very wet weather lately."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, and I am afraid these late rains have interfered with the +harvest. The accounts from the North are very alarming, but in Sussex, I +suppose, everything was over at least two months ago. Still even there +the farmers have been losing money for some time back. I have had to +make some very heavy reductions. Pearson declared he could not possibly +continue at the present rent with corn as low as eight pounds a load. +This is very serious, but it is very difficult to arrive at the truth. I +want to talk to you; but we shall have plenty of time presently; you'll +stay and dine? And I'll show you over the college: you have never been +here before, and now I come to reckon it up, I find I have not seen you +for nearly five years."</p> + +<p>"It must be very nearly that; I missed you the last time you were at +Thornby Place, and that was three years ago."</p> + +<p>"Three years! It sounds very shocking, doesn't it? to have a beautiful +place in Sussex and not to live there: to prefer an ugly red-brick +college—Birmingham Tudor; my mother invented the expression. When she +is in a passion she hits on the very happiest concurrence of words; and +I must say she is right,—the architecture here is appallingly ugly; +and I don't think anything could be done to improve it, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say that I can suggest anything for the moment, but I thought +it was for the sake of the architecture, which I frankly confess I don't +in the least admire, that you lived here."</p> + +<p>"You thought it was for the sake of the architecture...."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you not come home and spend Christmas with your mother!"</p> + +<p>"Christmas! Well, I suppose I ought to. But it will be hard to bear with +the plain Protestantism, the smug materialism of Sussex at such a +season; and when one thinks what the day is commemorative of—"</p> + +<p>"You surely do not mean that you would prefer to see the people +starving? If your dislike of Protestantism rests only on roast beef and +plum pudding...."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't understand. But I beg your pardon—I had really forgotten +...."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Mr Hare smiling; "continue: we were talking of roast +beef and plum pudding—"</p> + +<p>"Well, roast beef and plum pudding, say what you like, is a very +complete figuration of the Protestant ideal. Now let us think of +Sussex.... The villas with their gables, and railings, and laurels, the +snug farm-houses, the market-gardening, but especially the villas, so +representative of a sleepy smug materialism.... Oh, it is horrible; I +cannot think of Sussex without a revulsion of feeling. Sussex is utterly +opposed to the monastic spirit. Why, even the downs are easy, yes, easy +as one of the upholsterer's armchairs of the villa residences. And the +aspect of the county tallies exactly with the state of soul of its +people. In that southern county all is soft and lascivious; there is no +wildness, none of that scenical grandeur which we find in Scotland and +Ireland, and which is emblematic of the yearning of man's soul for +something higher than this mean and temporal life."</p> + +<p>There was rapture in John's eyes. With a quick movement of his hands he +seemed to spurn the entire materialism of Sussex. After a pause, he +continued:</p> + +<p>"There is no asceticism in Sussex, there is no yearning for anything +higher or better. You—yes, you and the whole place are, in every sense +of the word, Conservative—that is to say, brutally satisfied with the +present ordering of things."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, my dear John, by your own account Pearson is not by any means +so satisfied with the present condition of things as you yourself would +wish him to be."</p> + +<p>John laughed loudly, and it was clear that the paradox in no way +displeased him.</p> + +<p>"But we were speaking," he continued, "not of temporal, but of spiritual +pains and penalties. Now, anyone who did not know me—and none will ever +know me—would think that I had not a care in the world. Well, I have +suffered as horribly, I have been tortured as cruelly, as ever poor +mortal was.... I have lain on the floor of my room, my heart dead +within me, and moaned and shrieked with horror."</p> + +<p>"Horror of what?"</p> + +<p>"Horror of death and a worse horror of life. Few amongst men ever +realise the truth of things, but there are rare occasions, moments of +supernatural understanding or suffering (which are two words for one and +the same thing), when we see life in all its worm-like meanness, and +death in its plain, stupid loathsomeness. Two days out of this year live +like fire in my mind. I went to my uncle Richard's funeral. There was +cold meat and sherry on the table; a dreadful servant asked me if I +would go up to the corpse-room. (Mark the expression.) I went. It lay +swollen and featureless, and two busy hags lifted it up and packed it +tight with wisps of hay, and mechanically uttered shrieks and moans.</p> + +<p>"But, though the funeral was painfully obscene, it was not so obscene as +the view of life I was treated to last week....</p> + +<p>"Last week I was in London; I went to a place they call the 'Colonies.' +Till then I had never realised the foulness of the human animal, but +there even his foulness was overshadowed by his stupidity. The masses, +yes, I saw the masses, and I fed with them in their huge intellectual +stye. The air was filled with lines of the most inconceivable flags, +lines upon lines of pale yellow, and there were glass cases filled with +pickle bottles, and there were piles of ropes and a machine in motion, +and in nooks there were some dreadful lay figures, and written +underneath them, 'Indian corn-seller,' 'Indian fish-seller.' And there +was the Prince of Wales on horseback, three times larger than life; and +there were stuffed deer upon a rock, and a Polar bear, and the Marquis +of Lome underneath. In another room there were Indian houses, things in +carved wood, and over each large placards announcing the popular dinner, +the <i>buffet</i>, the <i>table d'hôte</i>, at half-a-crown; and there were oceans +of tea, and thousands of rolls of butter, and in the gardens the band +played 'Thine alone' and 'Mine again.'</p> + +<p>"It seemed as if all the back-kitchens and staircases in England had +that day been emptied out—life-tattered housewives, girls grown stout +on porter, pretty-faced babies, heavy-handed fathers, whistling boys in +their sloppy clothes, and attitudes curiously evidencing an odious +domesticity....</p> + +<p>"In the Greek and Roman life there was an ideal, and there was a great +ideal in the monastic life of the Middle Ages; but an ideal is wholly +wanting in nineteenth century life. I am not of these later days. I am +striving to come to terms with life."</p> + +<p>"And you think you can do that best by folding vestments and reviling +humanity. I do not see how you reconcile these opinions with the +teaching of Christ—with the life of Christ."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, if you are going to use those arguments against me, I +have done; I can say no more."</p> + +<p>Mr Hare did not answer, and at the end of a long silence John said:</p> + +<p>"But, what do you say, supposing I show you over the college now, and +when that's done you will come up to my room and we'll have a smoke +before dinner?"</p> + +<p>Mr Hare raised no objection, and the two men descended the staircase +into the long stony corridor. The quadrangle filled the diamond panes of +the latticed windows with green, and the divine walking to and fro was a +spot of black. There were pictures along the walls of the +corridor—pictures of upturned faces and clasped hands—and these drew +words of commiseration for the artistic ignorance of the College +authorities from John's lips.</p> + +<p>"And they actually believe that that dreadful monk with the skull is a +real Ribera.... The chapel is on the right, the refectory on the left. +Come, let us see the chapel; I am anxious to hear what you think of my +window."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be very handsome; it cost five hundred, did it not?"</p> + +<p>"No, not quite so much as that," John answered abruptly; and then, +passing through the communion rails, they stood under the multi-coloured +glory of three bishops. Mr Hare felt that a good deal of rapture was +expected of him; but in his efforts to praise, he felt he was exposing +his ignorance. John called attention to the transparency of the +green-watered skies; and turning their backs on the bishops, the blue +ceiling with the gold stars was declared, all things considered, to be +in excellent taste. The benches in the body of the church were for boys; +the carved chairs set along both walls between the communion rails and +the first steps of the altar were for the divines. The president and +vice-president knelt facing each other. The priests, deacons, and +sub-deacons followed according to their rank. There were slenderer +benches, and these were for the choir; and from a music-book placed on +wings of the great golden eagle, the leader conducted the singing.</p> + +<p>The side altar, with the rich Turkey carpet spread over the steps, was +St George's, and further on, in an addition made lately, there were two +more altars, dedicated respectively to the Virgin and St Joseph.</p> + +<p>"The maid-servants kneel in that corner. I have often suggested that +they should be moved out of sight. You do not understand me. +Protestantism has always been more reconciled to the presence of women +in sacred places than we. We would wish them beyond the precincts. And +it is easy to imagine how the unspeakable feminality of those +maid-servants jars a beautiful impression—the altar towering white with +wax candles, the benedictive odour of incense, the richness of the +vestments, treble voices of boys floating, and the sweetness of a long +day spent about the sanctuary with flowers and chalices in my hands, +fade in a sense of sullen disgust, in a revulsion of feeling which I +will not attempt to justify."</p> + +<p>Then his thoughts, straying back to sudden recollections of monastic +usages and habits, he said:</p> + +<p>"I should like to scourge them out of this place." And then, half +playfully, half seriously, and wholly conscious of the grotesqueness, he +added:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am not at all sure that a good whipping would not do them good. +They should be well whipped. I believe that there is much to be said in +favour of whipping."</p> + +<p>Mr Hare did not answer. He listened like one in a dark and unknown +place. But, as if unconscious of the embarrassment he was creating, John +told of the number of masses that were said daily, and of the eagerness +shown by the boys to obtain an altar. Altar service was rewarded by a +large piece of toast for breakfast. Handsome lads of sixteen were chosen +for acolytes, the torch-bearers were selected from the smallest boys, +the office of censer was filled by John Norton, and he was also the +chief sacristan, and had charge of the altar plate and linen and the +vestments. He spoke of the organ, and he depreciated the present +instrument, and enlarged upon some technical details anent the latest +modern improvements in keys and stops.</p> + +<p>They went up to the organ loft. John would play his setting of St +Ambrose's hymn, "Veni redemptor gentium," if Mr Hare would go to the +bellows, and feeling as if he were being turned into ridicule, Mr Hare +took his place at the handle; and he found it even more embarrassing to +give an opinion on the religiosity of the music, than on the +archæological colouration of the bishops in the window. But John did not +court any very detailed criticism on his hymn, and alluding to the fact +that even in the fourth century accent was beginning to replace +quantity, he led the way to the sacristy.</p> + +<p>And it was impossible to avoid noticing that the opening of the carved +oaken presses, smelling sweet and benignly of orris root and lavender, +acted on John almost as a physical pleasure, and also that his hands +seemed nervous with delight as he unfolded the jewelled embroideries, +and smoothed out the fine linen of the under vestments; and his voice, +too, seemed to gain a sharp tenderness and emotive force, as he told how +these were the gold vestments worn by the bishop, and only on certain +great feast-days, and that these were the white vestments worn on days +especially commemorative of the Virgin. The consideration of the +censers, candlesticks, chalices, and albs took some time, and John was a +little aggressive in his explanation of Catholic ceremonial, and its +grace and comeliness compared with the stiffness and materialism of the +Protestant service.</p> + +<p>From the sacristy they went to the boys' library. John pointed out the +excellent supply of light literature that the bookcases contained.</p> + +<p>"We take travels, history, fairy-tales—romances of all kinds, so long +as sensual passion is not touched upon at any length. Of course we +don't object to a book in which just towards the end the young man falls +in love and proposes; but there must not be much of that sort of thing. +Here are Robert Louis Stevenson's works, 'Treasure Island,' 'Kidnapped,' +&c.c., charming writer—a neat pretty style, with a pleasant souvenir of +Edgar Poe running through it all. You have no idea how the boys enjoy +his books."</p> + +<p>"And don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I have just glanced at him: for my own reading, I can admit none +who does not write in the first instance for scholars, and then to the +scholarly instincts in readers generally. Here is Walter Pater. We have +his Renaissance; studies in art and poetry—I gave it myself to the +library. We were so sorry we could not include that most beautiful book, +'Marius the Epicurean.' We have some young men here of twenty and three +and twenty, and it would be delightful to see them reading it, so +exquisite is its hopeful idealism; but we were obliged to bar it on +account of the story of Psyche, sweetly though it be told, and sweetly +though it be removed from any taint of realistic suggestion. Do you know +the book?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say I do."</p> + +<p>"Then read it at once. It is a breath of delicious fragrance blown back +to us from the antique world; nothing is lost or faded, the bloom of +that glad bright world is upon every page; the wide temples, the lustral +water—the youths apportioned out for divine service, and already happy +with a sense of dedication, the altars gay with garlands of wool and the +more sumptuous sort of flowers, the colour of the open air, with the +scent of the beanfields, mingling with the cloud of incense."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you denied any value to the external world, that the +spirit alone was worth considering."</p> + +<p>"The antique world knew how to idealise, and if they delighted in the +outward form, they did not leave it gross and vile as we do when we +touch it; they raised it, they invested it with a sense of aloofness +that we know not of. Flesh or spirit, idealise one or both, and I will +accept them. But you do not know the book. You must read it. Never did I +read with such rapture of being, of growing to spiritual birth. It +seemed to me that for the first time I was made known to myself; for the +first time the false veil of my grosser nature was withdrawn, and I +looked into the true ethereal eyes, pale as wan water and sunset skies, +of my higher self. Marius was to me an awakening; the rapture of +knowledge came upon me that even our temporal life might be beautiful; +that, in a word, it was possible to somehow come to terms with life.... +You must read it. For instance, can anyone conceive anything more +perfectly beautiful than the death of Flavian, and all that youthful +companionship, and Marius' admiration for his friend's poetry?... that +delightful language of the third century—a new Latin, a season of +dependency, an Indian summer full of strange and varied cadences, so +different from the monotonous sing-song of the Augustan age; the school +of which Fronto was the head. Indeed, it was Pater's book that first +suggested to me the idea of the book I am writing. But perhaps you do +not know I am writing a book.... Did my mother tell you anything about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she told me you were writing the history of Christian Latin."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is to say, of the language that was the literary, the +scientific, and the theological language of Europe for more than a +thousand years."</p> + +<p>And talking of his book rapidly, and with much boyish enthusiasm, John +opened the doors of the refectory. The long, oaken tables, the great +fireplace, and the stained glass seemed to delight him, and he alluded +to the art classes of monastic life. The class-rooms were peeped into, +the playground was viewed through the lattice windows, and they went to +John's room, up a staircase curiously carpeted with lead.</p> + +<p>John's rooms! a wide, bright space of green painted wood and straw +matting. The walls were panelled from floor to ceiling. In the centre of +the floor there was an oak table—a table made of sharp slabs of oak +laid upon a frame that was evidently of ancient design, probably early +German, a great, gold screen sheltered a high canonical chair with +elaborate carvings, and on a reading-stand close by lay the manuscript +of a Latin poem.</p> + +<p>"And what is this?" said Mr Hare.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that is a poem by Milo, his 'De Sobricate.' I heard that the +manuscript was still preserved in the convent of Saint Amand, near +Tournai, and I sent and had a copy made for me. That was the simplest +way. You have no idea how difficult it is to buy the works of any Latin +authors except those of the Augustan age. Milo was a monk, and he lived +in the eighth century. He was a man of very considerable attainments, +if he were not a very great poet. He was a contemporary of Floras, who, +by the way, was a real poet. Some of his verses are delightful, full of +delicate cadence and colour. The MS. under your hand is a poem by him—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Montes et colles, silvæque et flumina, fontes,</p> +<p>Præruptæque rupes, pariter vallesque profondæ</p> +<p>Francorum lugete genus: quod munere christi,</p> +<p>Imperio celsum jacet ecce in pulvere mersum.'</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"That was written in the eighth century when the language was becoming +terribly corrupt; when it was hideous with popular idiom barbarously and +recklessly employed. But even in that time of autumnal decay and pallid +bloom, a real poet such as Walahfrid Strabat could weave a garland of +grace and beauty; one, indeed, that lived through the chance of +centuries in the minds of men. It found numberless imitators and favour +even with the Humanists, and it was reprinted eight times in the +seventeenth century. This poem is of especial interest to me on account +of the illustration it affords of a theory of my own concerning the +unconsciousness of the true artist. For breaking away from the literary +habitudes of his time, which were to do the gospels or the life of a +favourite saint into hexameters, he wrote a poem, 'Hortulus,' +descriptive of the garden of the monastery. The garden was all the world +to the monks; it furnished them at once with the pleasures and the +necessaries of their lives. Walahfrid felt this; he described his +feelings, and he produced a chef d'œuvre." Going over to the bookcase, +John took down a volume. He read:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Hoc nemus umbriferum pingit viridissima Rutæ</p> +<p>Silvula cœruleæ, foliis quæ prædita parvis,</p> +<p>Umbellas jaculata brevis, spiramina venti</p> +<p>Et radios Phœbi caules transmittit ad imos,</p> +<p>Attactuque graves leni dispergit odores,</p> +<p>Hæc cum multiplici vigeat virtute medelæ,</p> +<p>Dicitur occultis apprime obstare venenis,</p> +<p>Toxicaque invasis incommoda pellere fibris.'</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Now, can anything be more charming? True it is that pingit in the first +line does not seem to construe satisfactorily, and I am not certain that +the poet may not have written <i>fingit</i>. Fingit would not be pure Latin, +but that is beside the question."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is. I must say I prefer the Georgics. I have known many +strange tastes, but your fancy for bad Latin is the strangest of all."</p> + +<p>"Classical Latin, with the exception of Tacitus, is cold-blooded and +self-satisfied. There is no agitation, no fever; to me it is utterly +without interest."</p> + +<p>To the books and manuscripts the pictures on the walls afforded an +abrupt contrast. No. 1. "A Japanese Girl," by Monet. A poppy in the pale +green walls; a wonderful macaw! Why does it not speak in strange +dialect? It trails lengths of red silk. Such red! The pigment is twirled +and heaped with quaint device, until it seems to be beautiful embroidery +rather than painting; and the straw-coloured hair, and the blond light +on the face, and the unimaginable coquetting of that fan....</p> + +<p>No. 2. "The Drop Curtain," by Degas. The drop curtain is fast +descending; only a yard of space remains. What a yardful of curious +comment, what satirical note on the preposterousness of human +existence! what life there is in every line; and the painter has made +meaning with every blot of colour! Look at the two principal dancers! +They are down on their knees, arms raised, bosoms advanced, skirts +extended, a hundred coryphées are clustered about them. Leaning hands, +uplifted necks, painted eyes, scarlet mouths, a piece of thigh, arched +insteps, and all is blurred; vanity, animalism, indecency, absurdity, +and all to be whelmed into oblivion in a moment. Wonderful life; +wonderful Degas!</p> + +<p>No. 3. "A Suburb," by Monet. Snow! the world is white. The furry fluff +has ceased to fall, and the sky is darkling and the night advances, +dragging the horizon up with it like a heavy, deadly curtain. But the +roof of the villa is white, and the green of the laurels shaken free of +the snow shines through the railings, and the shadows that lie across +the road leading to town are blue—yes, as blue as the slates under the +immaculate snow.</p> + +<p>No. 4. "The Cliff's Edge," by Monet. Blue? purple the sea is; no, it is +violet; 'tis striped with violet and flooded with purple; there are +living greens, it is full of fading blues. The dazzling sky deepens as +it rises to breathless azure, and the soul pines for and is fain of God. +White sails show aloft; a line of dissolving horizon; a fragment of +overhanging cliff wild with coarse grass and bright with poppies, and +musical with the lapsing of the summer waves.</p> + +<p>There were in all six pictures—a tall glass filled with pale roses, by +Renoir; a girl tying up her garter, by Monet.</p> + +<p>Through the bedroom door Mr Hare saw a narrow iron bed, an iron +washhand-stand, and a prie-dieu. A curious three-cornered wardrobe stood +in one corner, and facing it, in front of the prie-dieu, a life-size +Christ hung with outstretched arms. The parson looked round for a seat, +but the chairs were like cottage stools on high legs, and the angular +backs looked terribly knife-like.</p> + +<p>"Sit in the arm-chair. Shall I get you a pillow from the next room? +Personally I cannot bear upholstery; I cannot conceive anything more +hideous than a padded arm-chair. All design is lost in that infamous +stuffing. Stuffing is a vicious excuse for the absence of design. If +upholstery was forbidden by law to-morrow, in ten years we should have a +school of design. Then the necessity of composition would be +imperative."</p> + +<p>"I daresay there is a good deal in what you say; but tell me, don't you +find these chairs very uncomfortable. Don't you think that you would +find a good comfortable arm-chair very useful for reading purposes?"</p> + +<p>"No, I should feel far more uncomfortable on a cushion than I do on this +bit of hard oak. Our ancestors had an innate sense of form that we have +not. Look at these chairs, nothing can be plainer; a cottage stool is +hardly more simple, and yet they are not offensive to the eye. I had +them made from a picture by Albert Durer. But tell me, what will you +take to drink? Will you have a glass of champagne, or a brandy and +soda, or what do you say to an absinthe?"</p> + +<p>"'Pon my word, you seem to look after yourself. You don't forget the +inner man."</p> + +<p>"I always keep a good supply of liquor; have a cigar?" And John passed +to him a box of fragrant and richly coloured Havanas.... Mr Hare took a +cigar, and glanced at the table on which John was mixing the drinks. It +was a slip of marble, rested, café fashion, on iron supports.</p> + +<p>"But that table is modern, surely?—quite modern!"</p> + +<p>"Quite; it is a café table, but it does not offend my eye. You surely +would not have me collect a lot of old-fashioned furniture and pile it +up in my rooms, Turkey carpets and Japaneseries of all sorts; a room +such as Sir Fred. Leighton would declare was intended to be merely +beautiful."</p> + +<p>Striving vainly to understand, Mr Hare drank his brandy and soda in +silence. Presently he walked over to the bookcases. There were two: one +was filled with learned-looking volumes bearing the names of Latin +authors; and the parson, who prided himself on his Latinity, was +surprised, and a little nettled, to find so much ignorance proved upon +him. With Tertullian, St Jerome, and St Augustine he was of course +acquainted, but of Lactantius, Prudentius, Sedulius, St Fortunatus, Duns +Scotus, Hibernicus exul, Angilbert, Milo, &c.c., he was obliged to admit +he knew nothing—even the names were unknown to him.</p> + +<p>In the bookcase on the opposite side of the room there were complete +editions of Landor and Swift, then came two large volumes on Leonardo da +Vinci. Raising his eyes, the parson read through the titles of Mr +Browning's work. Tennyson was in a cheap seven-and-six edition; then +came Swinburne, Pater, Rossetti, Morris, two novels by Rhoda Broughton, +Dickens, Thackeray, Fielding, and Smollett; the complete works of +Balzac, Gautier's Emaux et Camées, Salammbo, L'Assommoir; add to this +Carlyle, Byron, Shelley, Keats, &c.c.</p> + +<p>At the end of a long silence, Mr Hare said, glancing once again at the +Latin authors, and walking towards the fire:</p> + +<p>"Tell me, John, are those the books you are writing about? Supposing you +explain to me in a few words the line you are taking. Your mother tells +me that you intend to call your book the History of Christian Latin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had thought of using that title, but I am afraid it is a little +too ambitious. To write the history of a literature extending over at +least eight centuries would entail an appalling amount of reading; and +besides only a few, say a couple of dozen writers out of some hundreds, +are of the slightest literary interest, and very few indeed of any real +æsthetic value. I have been hard at work lately, and I think I know +enough of the literature of the Middle Ages to enable me to make a +selection that will comprise everything of interest to ordinary +scholarship, and enough to form a sound basis to rest my own literary +theories upon. I begin by stating that there existed in the Middle Ages +a universal language such as Goethe predicted the future would again +bring to us....</p> + +<p>"Before the formation of the limbs, that is to say before the German and +Roman languages were developed up to the point of literary usage, the +Latin language was the language of all nations of the western world. But +the day came, in some countries a little earlier, in some a little +later, when it was replaced by the national idioms. The different +literatures of the West had therefore been preceded by a Latin +literature that had for a long time held out a supporting hand to each. +The language of this literature was not a dead language, It was the +language of government, of science, of religion; and a little +dislocated, a little barbarised, it had penetrated to the minds of the +people, and found expression in drinking songs and street ditties.</p> + +<p>"Such is the theme of my book; and it seems to me that a language that +has played so important a part in the world's history is well worthy of +serious study.</p> + +<p>"I show how Christianity, coming as it did with a new philosophy, and a +new motive for life, invigorated and saved the Latin language in a time +of decline and decrepitude. For centuries it had given expression, even +to satiety, to a naive joy in the present; on this theme, all that could +be said had been said, all that could be sung had been sung, and the +Rhetoricians were at work with alliteration and refrain when +Christianity came, and impetuously forced the language to speak the +desire of the soul. In a word, I want to trace the effect that such a +radical alteration in the music, if I may so speak, had upon the +instrument—the Latin language."</p> + +<p>"And with whom do you begin?"</p> + +<p>"With Tertullian, of course."</p> + +<p>"And what do you think of him?"</p> + +<p>"Tertullian, one of the most fascinating characters of ancient or modern +times. In my study of his writings I have worked out a psychological +study of the man himself as revealed through them. His realism, I might +say materialism, is entirely foreign to my own nature, but I cannot help +being attracted by that wild African spirit, so full of savage +contradictions, so full of energy that it never knew repose: in him you +find all the imperialism of ancient times. When you consider that he +lived in a time when the church was struggling for utterance amid the +horrors of persecution, his mad Christianity becomes singularly +attractive; a passionate fear of beauty for reason of its temptations, a +fear that turned to hatred, and forced him at last into the belief that +Christ was an ugly man."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of the monks of the eighth century and their poetry, but +I do know something of Tertullian, and you mean to tell me that you +admire his style—those harsh chopped-up phrases and strained +antitheses."</p> + +<p>"I should think I did. Phrases set boldly one against the other; quaint, +curious, and full of colour, the reader supplies with delight the +connecting link, though the passion and the force of the description +lives and reels along. Listen:</p> + +<p>"'Quæ tunc spectaculi latitudo! quid admirer? quid rideam? ubi gaudeam? +ubi exultem, spectans tot ac tantos reges, qui in cœlum recepti +nuntiabantur, cum ipso Jove et ipsis suis testibus in imis tenebris +congemiscentes!—Tunc magis tragœdi audiendi, magis scilicet vocales in +sua propria calamitate; tunc histriones cognoscendi, solutiores multo +per ignem; tunc spectandus auriga, in flammea rota totus rubens, &c.c.'</p> + +<p>"Show me a passage in Livy equal to that for sheer force and glittering +colour. The phrases are not all dove-tailed one into the other and +smoothed away; they stand out."</p> + +<p>"Indeed they do. And whom do you speak of next?"</p> + +<p>"I pass on to St Cyprian and Lactantius; to the latter I attribute the +beautiful poem of the Phœnix."</p> + +<p>"What! Claudian's poem?"</p> + +<p>"No, but one infinitely superior. After Lactantius comes St Ambrose, St +Jerome, and St Augustine. The second does not interest me, and my notice +of him is brief; but I make special studies of the first and last. It +was St Ambrose who introduced singing into the Catholic service. He took +the idea from the Arians. He saw the effect it had upon the vulgar mind, +and he resolved to combat the heresy with its own weapons. He composed a +vast number of hymns. Only four have come down to us, and they are as +perfect in form as in matter. You will scarcely find anywhere a false +quantity or a hiatus. The Ambrosian hymns remained the type of all the +hymnic poetry of succeeding centuries. Even Prudentius, great poet as he +was, was manifestly influenced in the choice of metre and the +composition of the strophe by the Deus Creator omnium....</p> + +<p>"St Ambrose did more than any other writer of his time to establish +certain latent tendencies as characteristics of the Catholic spirit. +His pleading in favour of ascetic life and of virginity, that entirely +Christian virtue, was very influential. He lauds the virgin above the +wife, and, indeed, he goes so far as to tell parents that they can +obtain pardon of their sins by offering their daughters to God. His +teaching in this respect was productive of very serious rebellion +against what some are pleased to term the laws of Nature. But St Ambrose +did not hesitate to uphold the repugnance of girls to marriage as not +only lawful but praiseworthy."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you let your thoughts dwell very much on such subjects."</p> + +<p>"Really, do you think I do?" John's eyes brightened for a moment, and he +lapsed into what seemed an examination of conscience. Then he said, +somewhat abruptly, "St Jerome I speak of, or rather I allude to him, and +pass on at once to the study of St Augustine—the great prose writer, as +Prudentius was the great poet, of the Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>"Now, talking of style, I will admit that the eternal apostrophising of +God and the incessant quoting from the New Testament is tiresome to the +last degree, and seriously prejudices the value of the 'Confessions' as +considered from the artistic standpoint. But when he bemoans the loss of +the friend of his youth, when he tells of his resolution to embrace an +ascetic life, he is nervously animated, and is as psychologically +dramatic as Balzac."</p> + +<p>"I have taken great pains with my study of St Augustine, because in him +the special genius of Christianity for the first time found a voice. All +that had gone before was a scanty flowerage—he was the perfect fruit. I +am speaking from a purely artistic standpoint: all that could be done +for the life of the senses had been done, but heretofore the life of the +soul had been lived in silence—none had come to speak of its suffering, +its uses, its tribulation. In the time of Horace it was enough to sit in +Lalage's bower and weave roses; of the communion of souls none had ever +thought. Let us speak of the soul! This is the great dividing line +between the pagan and Christian world, and St Augustine is the great +landmark. In literature he discovered that man had a soul, and that man +had grown interested in its story, had grown tired of the exquisite +externality of the nymph-haunted forest and the waves where the Triton +blows his plaintive blast.</p> + +<p>"The whole theory and practice of modern literature is found in the +'Confessions of St Augustine;' and from hence flows the great current of +psychological analysis which, with the development of the modern novel, +grows daily greater in volume and more penetrating in essence.... Is not +the fretful desire of the Balzac novel to tell of the soul's anguish an +obvious development of the 'Confessions'?"</p> + +<p>"In like manner I trace the origin of the ballad, most particularly the +English ballad, to Prudentius, a contemporary of Claudian."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you trace back our north-country ballads +to, what do you call him?"</p> + +<p>"Prudentius. I show that there is much in his hymns that recalls the +English ballads."</p> + +<p>"In his hymns?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in the poems that come under such denomination. I confess it is +not a little puzzling to find a narrative poem of some five hundred +lines or more included under the heading of hymns; it would seem that +nearly all lyric poetry of an essentially Christian character was so +designated, to separate it from secular or pagan poetry. In Prudentius' +first published work, 'Liber Cathemerinon,' we find hymns composed +absolutely after the manner of St Ambrose, in the same or in similar +metres, but with this difference, the hymns of Prudentius are three, +four, and sometimes seven times longer than those of St Ambrose. The +Spanish poet did not consider, or he lost sight of, the practical usages +of poetry. He sang more from an artistic than a religious impulse. That +he delighted in the song for the song's own sake is manifest; and this +is shown in the variety of his treatment, and the delicate sense of +music which determined his choice of metre. His descriptive writing is +full of picturesque expression. The fifth hymn, 'Ad Incensum Lucernæ,' +is glorious with passionate colour and felicitous cadence, be he +describing with precious solicitude for Christian archæology the +different means of artistic lighting, flambeaux, candles, lamps, or +dreaming with all the rapture of a southern dream of the balmy garden of +Paradise.</p> + +<p>"But his best book to my thinking is by far, 'Peristephanon,' that is to +say, the hymns celebrating the glory of the martyrs.</p> + +<p>"I was saying just now that the hymns of Prudentius, by the dramatic +rapidity of the narrative, by the composition of the strophe, and by +their wit, remind me very forcibly of our English ballads. Let us take +the story of St Laurence, written in iambics, in verses of four lines +each. In the time of the persecutions of Valerian, the Roman prefect, +devoured by greed, summoned St Laurence, the treasurer of the church, +before him, and on the plea that parents were making away with their +fortunes to the detriment of their children, demanded that the sacred +vessels should be given up to him. 'Upon all coins is found the head of +the Emperor and not that of Christ, therefore obey the order of the +latter, and give to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor.'</p> + +<p>"To this speech, peppered with irony and sarcasm, St Laurence replies +that the church is very rich, even richer than the Emperor, and that he +will have much pleasure in offering its wealth to the prefect, and he +asks for three days to classify the treasures. Transported with joy, the +prefect grants the required delay. Laurence collects the infirm who have +been receiving charity from the church; and in picturesque grouping the +poet shows us the blind, the paralytic, the lame, the lepers, advancing +with trembling and hesitating steps. Those are the treasures, the +golden vases and so forth, that the saint has catalogued and is going to +exhibit to the prefect, who is waiting in the sanctuary. The prefect is +dumb with rage; the saint observes that gold is found in dross; that the +disease of the body is to be less feared than that of the soul; and he +developes this idea with a good deal of wit. The boasters suffer from +dropsy, the miser from cramp in the wrist, the ambitious from febrile +heat, the gossipers, who delight in tale-bearing, from the itch; but +you, he says, addressing the prefect, you who govern Rome,<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> suffer +from the <i>morbus regius</i> (you see the pun). In revenge for thus +slighting his dignity, the prefect condemns St Laurence to be roasted on +a slow fire, adding, 'and deny there, if you will, the existence of my +Vulcan.' Even on the gridiron Laurence does not lose his good humour, +and he gets himself turned as a cook would a chop.</p> + +<p>"Now, do you not understand what I mean when I say that the hymns of +Prudentius are an anticipation of the form of the English ballad?... And +in the fifth hymn the story of St Vincent is given with that peculiar +dramatic terseness that you find nowhere except in the English ballad. +But the most beautiful poem of all is certainly the fourteenth and last +hymn. In a hundred and thirty-three hendecasyllabic verses the story of +a young virgin condemned to a house of ill-fame is sung with exquisite +sense of grace and melody. She is exposed naked at the corner of a +street. The crowd piously turns away; only one young man looks upon her +with lust in his heart. He is instantly struck blind by lightning, but +at the request of the virgin his sight is restored to him. Then follows +the account of how she suffered martyrdom by the sword—a martyrdom +which the girl salutes with a transport of joy. The poet describes her +ascending to Heaven, and casting one last look upon this miserable +earth, whose miseries seem without end, and whose joys are of such short +duration.</p> + +<p>"Then his great poem 'Psychomachia' is the first example in mediæval +literature of allegorical poetry, the most Christian of all forms of +art.</p> + +<p>"Faith, her shoulders bare, her hair free, advances, eager for the +fight. The 'cult of the ancient gods,' with forehead chapleted after the +fashion of the pagan priests, dares to attack her, and is overthrown. +The legion of martyrs that Faith has called together cry in triumphant +unison.... Modesty (Pudicitia), a young virgin with brilliant arms, is +attacked by 'the most horrible of the Furies' (Sodomita Libido), who, +with a torch burning with pitch and sulphur, seeks to strike her eyes, +but Modesty disarms him and pierces him with her sword. 'Since the +Virgin without stain gave birth to the Man-God, Lust is without rights +in the world.' Patience watches the fight; she is presently attacked by +Anger, first with violent words, and then with darts, which fall +harmlessly from her armour. Accompanied by Job, Patience retires +triumphant. But at that moment, mounted on a wild and unbridled steed, +and covered with a lionskin, Pride (Superbia), her hair built up like a +tower, menaces Humility (Mens humilis). Under the banner of Humility are +ranged Justice, Frugality, Modesty, pale of face, and likewise +Simplicity. Pride mocks at this miserable army, and would crush it under +the feet of her steed. But she falls in a ditch dug by Fraud. Humility +hesitates to take advantage of her victory; but Hope draws her sword, +cuts off the head of the enemy, and flies away on golden wings to +Heaven.</p> + +<p>"Then Lust (Luxuria), the new enemy, appears. She comes from the extreme +East, this wild dancer, with odorous hair, provocative glance and +effeminate voice; she stands in a magnificent chariot drawn by four +horses; she scatters violet and rose leaves; they are her weapons; their +insidious perfumes destroy courage and will, and the army, headed by the +virtues, speaks of surrender. But suddenly Sobriety (Sobrietas) lifts +the standard of the Cross towards the sky. Lust falls from her chariot, +and Sobriety fells her with a stone. Then all her saturnalian army is +scattered. Love casts away his quiver. Pomp strips herself of her +garments, and Voluptuousness (Voluptas) fears not to tread upon thorns, +&c.c. But Avarice disguises herself in the mask of Economy, and succeeds +in deceiving all hearts until she is overthrown finally by Mercy +(Operatica). All sorts of things happen, but eventually the poem winds +up with a prayer to Christ, in which we learn that the soul shall fall +again and again in the battle, and that this shall continue until the +coming of Christ."</p> + +<p>"'Tis very curious, very curious indeed. I know nothing of this +literature."</p> + +<p>"Very few do."</p> + +<p>"And you have, I suppose, translated some of these poems?"</p> + +<p>"I give a complete translation of the second hymn, the story of St +Laurence, and I give long extracts from the poem we have been speaking +about, and likewise from 'Hamartigenia,' which, by the way, some +consider as his greatest work. And I show more completely, I think, than +any other commentator, the analogy between it and the 'Divine Comedy,' +and how much Dante owed to it.... Then the 'terza rima' was undoubtedly +borrowed from the fourth hymn of the 'Cathemerinon.'"...</p> + +<p>"You said, I think, that Prudentius was a contemporary of Claudian. +Which do you think the greater poet?"</p> + +<p>"Prudentius by far. Claudian's Latin was no doubt purer and his verse +was better, that is to say, from the classical standpoint it was more +correct."</p> + +<p>"Is there any other standpoint?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. There is pagan Latin and Christian Latin: Burns' poems are +beautiful, and they are not written in Southern English; Chaucer's verse +is exquisitely melodious, although it will not scan to modern +pronunciation. In the earliest Christian poetry there is a tendency to +write by accent rather than by quantity, but that does not say that the +hymns have not a quaint Gothic music of their own. This is very +noticeable in Sedulius, a poet of the fifth century. His hymn to Christ +is not only full of assonance, but of all kinds of rhyme and even double +rhymes. We find the same thing in Sedonius, and likewise in +Fortunatus—a gay prelate, the morality of whose life is, I am afraid, +open to doubt...</p> + +<p>"He had all the qualities of a great poet, but he wasted his genius +writing love verses to Radegonde. The story is a curious one. Radegonde +was the daughter of the King of Thuringia; she was made prisoner by +Clotaire I., son of Clovis, who forced her to become his wife. On the +murder of her father by her husband, she fled and founded a convent at +Poictiers. There she met Fortunatus, who, it appears, loved her. It is +of course humanly possible that their love was not a guilty one, but it +is certain that the poet wasted the greater part of his life writing +verses to her and her adopted daughter Agnes. In a beautiful poem in +praise of virginity, composed in honour of Agnes, he speaks in a very +disgusting way of the love with which nuns regard our Redeemer, and the +recompence that awaits them in Heaven for their chastity. If it had not +been for the great interest attaching to his verse as an example of the +radical alteration that had been effected in the language, I do not +think I should have spoken of this poet. Up to his time rhyme had +slipped only occasionally into the verse, it had been noticed and had +been allowed to remain by poets too idle to remove it, a strange +something not quite understood, and yet not a wholly unwelcome intruder; +but in St Fortunatus we find for the first time rhyme cognate with the +metre, and used with certainty and brilliancy. In the opening lines of +the hymn, 'Vexilla Regis,' rhyme is used with superb effect....</p> + +<p>"But for signs of the approaching dissolution of the language, of its +absorption by the national idiom, we must turn to St Gregory of Tours. +He was a man of defective education, and the <i>lingua rustica</i> of France +as it was spoken by the people makes itself felt throughout his +writings. His use of <i>iscere</i> for <i>escere</i>, of the accusative for the +ablative, one of St Gregory's favourite forms of speech, <i>pro or quod</i> +for <i>quoniam</i>, conformable to old French <i>porceque</i>, so common for +<i>parceque</i>. And while national idiom was oozing through grammatical +construction, national forms of verse were replacing the classical +metres which, so far as syllables were concerned, had hitherto been +adhered to. As we advance into the sixth and seventh centuries, we find +English monks attempting to reproduce the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon +alliterative verse in Latin; and at the Court of Charlemagne we find an +Irish monk writing Latin verse in a long trochaic line, which is native +in Irish poetry.</p> + +<p>"Poets were plentiful at the court of Charlemagne. Now, Angilbert was a +poet of exquisite grace, and surprisingly modern is his music, which is +indeed a wonderful anticipation of the lilt of Edgar Poe. I compare it +to Poe. Just listen:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Surge meo Domno dulces fac, fistula versus:</p> +<p>David amat versus, surge et fac fistula versus.</p> +<p>David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David</p> +<p>Qua propter vates cuncti concurrite in unum</p> +<p>Atque meo David dulces cantate camœnas.</p> +<p>David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.</p> +<p>Dulcis amor David inspirat corda canentum,</p> +<p>Cordibus in nostris faciat amor ipsius odas:</p> +<p>Vates Homerus amat David, fac, fistula, versus.</p> +<p>David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.'"</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"I should have flogged that monk—'ipsius,' oh, oh!—'vatorum.'... It +really is too terrible."</p> + +<p>John laughed, and was about to reply, when the clanging of the college +bell was heard.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that is dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"Afraid, I am delighted; you don't suppose that every one can live, +chameleon-like, on air, or worse still, on false quantities. Ha, ha, ha! +And those pictures too. That snow is more violet than white."</p> + +<p>When dinner was over, John and Mr Hare walked out on the terrace. The +carriage waited in the wet in front of the great oak portal; the grey, +stormy evening descended on the high roofs, smearing the red out of the +walls and buttresses, and melancholy and tall the red college seemed +amid its dwarf plantation, now filled with night wind and drifting +leaves. Shadow and mist had floated out of the shallows above the crests +of the valley, and the lamps of the farm-houses gleamed into a pale +existence.</p> + +<p>"And now tell me what I am to say to your mother. Will you come home for +Christmas?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must. I suppose it would seem so unkind if I didn't. I +cannot account even to myself for my dislike to the place. I cannot +think of it without a revulsion of feeling that is strangely personal."</p> + +<p>"I won't argue that point with you, but I think you ought to come home."</p> + +<p>"Why? Why ought I to come to Sussex, and marry my neighbour's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"There is no reason that you should marry your neighbour's daughter, +but I take it that you do not propose to pass your life here."</p> + +<p>"For the present I am concerned mainly with the problem of how I may +make advances, how I may meet life, as it were, half-way; for if +possible I would not quite lose touch of the world. I would love to live +in its shadow, a spectator whose duty it is to watch and encourage, and +pity the hurrying throng on the stage. The church would approve this +attitude, whereas hate and loathing of humanity are not to be justified. +But I can do nothing to hurry the state of feeling I desire, except of +course to pray. I have passed through some terrible moments of despair +and gloom, but these are now wearing themselves away, and I am feeling +more at rest."</p> + +<p>Then, as if from a sudden fear of ridicule, John said, laughing: +"Besides, looking at the question from a purely practical side, it must +be hardly wise for me to return to society for the present. I like +neither fox-hunting, marriage, Robert Louis Stevenson's stories, nor Sir +Frederick Leighton's pictures; I prefer monkish Latin to Virgil, and I +adore Degas, Monet, Manet, and Renoir, and since this is so, and alas, I +am afraid irrevocably so, do you not think that I should do well to keep +outside a world in which I should be the only wrong and vicious being? +Why spoil that charming thing called society by my unlovely presence?</p> + +<p>"Selfishness! I know what you are going to say—here is my answer. I +assure you I administer to the best of my ability the fortune God gave +me—I spare myself no trouble. I know the financial position of every +farmer on my estate, the property does not owe fifty pounds;—I keep the +tenants up to the mark; I do not approve of waste and idleness, but when +a little help is wanted I am ready to give it. And then, well, I don't +mind telling you, but it must not go any further. I have made a will +leaving something to all my tenants; I give away a fixed amount in +charity yearly."</p> + +<p>"I know, my dear John, I know your life is not a dissolute one; but your +mother is very anxious, remember you are the last. Is there no chance +of your ever marrying?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could live with a woman; there is something very +degrading, something very gross in such relations. There is a better and +a purer life to lead ... an inner life, coloured and permeated with +feelings and tones that are, oh, how intensely our own, and he who may +have this life, shrinks from any adventitious presence that might jar or +destroy it. To keep oneself unspotted, to feel conscious of no sense of +stain, to know, yes, to hear the heart repeat that this self—hands, +face, mouth and skin—is free from all befouling touch, is all one's +own. I have always been strongly attracted to the colour white, and I +can so well and so acutely understand the legend that tells that the +ermine dies of gentle loathing of its own self, should a stain come upon +its immaculate fur.... I should not say a legend, for that implies that +the story is untrue, and it is not untrue—so beautiful a thought could +not be untrue."</p> + +<p>FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a> Qui Romam regis. + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_III"></a><h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<br> + +<p>"Urns on corner walls, pilasters, circular windows, flowerage and +loggia. What horrible taste, and quite out of keeping with the +landscape!" He rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Master John!" cried the tottering old butler who had +known him since babyhood. "Very glad, indeed, we all are to see you home +again, sir!"</p> + +<p>Neither the appellation of Master John, nor the sight of the four +paintings, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, which decorated the walls +of the passage, found favour with John, and the effusiveness of Mrs +Norton, who rushed out of the drawing-room, followed by Kitty, and +embraced her son, at once set on edge all his curious antipathies. Why +this kissing, this approachment of flesh? Of course she was his +mother.... Then this smiling girl in the background! He would have to +amuse her and talk to her; what infinite boredom it would be! He trusted +fervently that her visit would not be a long one.</p> + +<p>Then through what seemed to him the pollution of triumph, he was led +into the library; and he noticed, notwithstanding the presiding busts of +Shakespeare and Milton, that there was but one wretched stand full of +books in the room, and that in the gloom of a far corner. His mother sat +down, and there was a resoluteness in her look and attitude that seemed +to proclaim, "Now I hold you captive;" but she said:</p> + +<p>"I was very much alarmed, my dear John, about your not sleeping. Mr Hare +told me you said that you went two and three nights without closing your +eyes, and that you had to have recourse to sleeping draughts."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, mother, I never took a sleeping draught but twice in my +life."</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't sleep well, and I am sure it is those college beds. +But you will be far more comfortable here. You are in the best bedroom +in the house, the one in front of the staircase, the bridal chamber; and +I have selected the largest and softest feather-bed in the house."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, if there is one thing more than another I dislike, it +is a feather-bed. I should not be able to close my eyes; I beg of you to +have it taken away."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton's face flushed. "I cannot understand, John; it is absurd to +say that you cannot sleep on a feather-bed. Mr Hare told me you +complained of insomnia, and there is no surer way of losing your health. +It is owing to the hardness of those college mattresses, whereas in a +feather-bed—"</p> + +<p>"There is no use in our arguing that point, mother, I say I cannot sleep +on a feather-bed...."</p> + +<p>"But you have not tried one; I don't believe you ever slept on a +feather-bed in your life."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am not going to begin now."</p> + +<p>"We haven't another bed aired in the house, and it is really too late +to ask the servants to change your room."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I shall be obliged to sleep at the hotel in Henfield."</p> + +<p>"You should not speak to your mother in that way; I will not have it."</p> + +<p>"There! you see we are quarrelling already; I did wrong to come home."</p> + +<p>"I am speaking to you for your own good, my dear John, and I think it is +very stubborn of you to refuse to sleep on a feather-bed; if you don't +like it, you can change it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The conversation fell, and in silence the speakers strove to master +their irritation. Then John, for politeness' sake, spoke of when he had +last seen Kitty. It was about five years ago. She had ridden her pony +over to see them.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton talked of some people who had left the county, of a marriage, +of an engagement, of a mooted engagement; and she jerked in a +suggestion that if John were to apply at once, he would be placed on +the list of deputy-lieutenants. Enumeration of the family +influence—Lord So-and-so, the cousin, was the Lord Lieutenant's most +intimate friend.</p> + +<p>"You are not even a J.P., but there will be no difficulty about that; +and you have not seen any of the county people for years. We will have +the carriage out some day this week, and we'll pay a round of visits."</p> + +<p>"We'll do nothing of the kind. I have no time for visiting; I must get +on with my book. I hope to finish my study of St Augustine before I +leave here. I have my books to unpack, and a great deal of reading to +get through. I have done no more than glance at the Anglo-Latin. +Literature died in France with Gregory of Tours at the end of the sixth +century; with St Gregory the Great, in Italy, at the commencement of the +seventh century; in Spain about the same time. And then the Anglo-Saxons +became the representatives of the universal literature. All this is +most important. I must re-read St Aldhelm and the Venerable Bede.... +Now, I ask, do you expect me—me, with my head full of Aldhelm's +alliterative verses—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Turbo terram teretibus</p> +<p>Quæ catervatim cœlitus</p> +<p>Neque cœlorum culmina</p> +<p>......</p> +<p>......</p> +<p>Grassabatur turbinibus</p> +<p>Crebrantur nigris nubibus</p> +<p>Carent nocturna nebula—'</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"a letter descriptive of a great storm which he was caught in as he was +returning home one night...."</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, we have had quite enough of that, and I would advise you not +to go on with any of that nonsense here; you will be turned into +dreadful ridicule."</p> + +<p>"That's just why I wish to avoid them ... but you have no pity for me. +Just fancy my having to listen to them! How I have suffered.... What is +the use of growing wheat when we are only getting eight pounds ten a +load?... But we must grow something, and there is nothing else but +wheat. We must procure a certain amount of straw, or we'd have no +manure, and you can't work a farm without manure. I don't believe in the +fish manure. But there is market gardening, and if we kept shops in +Brighton, we could grow our own stuff and sell it at retail price.... +And then there is a great deal to be done with flowers."</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, that will do, that will do.... How dare you speak to me so! I +will not allow it." And then relapsing into an angry silence, Mrs Norton +drew her shawl about her shoulders.</p> + +<p>One of a thousand quarrels. The basis of each nature was common +sense—shrewd common sense—but such similarity of structure is in +itself apt to lead to much violent shocking of opinion; and to this end +an adjuvant was found in the dose of fantasy, mysticism, idealism which +was inherent in John's character. "Why is he not like other people? Why +will he waste his time with a lot of rubbishy Latin authors? Why will he +not take up his position in the county?" Mrs Norton asked herself these +questions as she fumed on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why she will continue to try to impose her will upon mine. I +wonder why she has not found out by this time the uselessness of her +effort. But no; she still keeps on hoping at last to wear me down. She +wants me to live the life she has marked out for me to live—to take up +my position in the county, and, above all, to marry and give an heir to +the property. I see it all; that is why she wanted me to spend Christmas +with her; that is why she has Kitty Hare here to meet me. How cunning, +how mean women are: a man would not do that. Had I known it.... I have a +mind to leave to-morrow. I wonder if the girl is in the little +conspiracy." And turning his head he looked at her.</p> + +<p>Tall and slight, a grey dress, pale as the wet sky, fell from her waist +outward in the manner of a child's frock, and there was a lightness, +there was brightness in the clear eyes. The intense youth of her heart +was evanescent; it seemed constantly rising upwards like the breath of a +spring morning—a morning when the birds are trilling. The face +sharpened to a tiny chin, and the face was pale, although there was +bloom on the cheeks. The forehead was shadowed by a sparkling cloud of +brown hair, the nose was straight, and each little nostril was pink +tinted. The ears were like shells. There was a rigidity in her attitude. +She laughed abruptly, perhaps a little nervously, and the abrupt laugh +revealed the line of tiny white teeth. Thin arms fell straight to the +translucent hands, and there was a recollection of puritan England in +look and in gesture.</p> + +<p>Her picturesqueness calmed John's ebullient discontent; he decided that +she knew nothing of, and was not an accomplice in, his mother's scheme: +For the sake of his guest he strove to make himself agreeable during +dinner, but it was clear that he missed the hierarchy of the college +table. The conversation fell repeatedly. Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke of +making syrup for the bees; and their discussion of the illness of poor +Dr ——, who would no longer be able to get through the work of the +parish single-handed, and would require a curate, was continued till the +ladies rose from table. Nor did matters mend in the library. John's +thoughts went back to his book; the room seemed to him intolerably +uncomfortable and ugly. He went to the billiard-room to smoke a cigar. +It was not clear to him if he would be able to spend two months in this +odious place. He might offer them to God as penance for his sins; if +every evening passed like the present, it were a modern martyrdom. But +had they removed that horrid feather-bed? He went upstairs. The +feather-bed had been removed.</p> + +<p>The room was large and ample, and it was draped with many curtains—pale +curtains covered with walking birds and falling petals, a sort of Indian +pattern. There was a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the toilette-table +hung out its skirts in the wavering light of the fire. John tossed to +and fro staring at the birds and petals. He thought of his ascetic +college bed, of the great Christ upon the wall, of the prie-dieu with +the great rosary hanging, but in vain; he could not rid his mind of the +distasteful feminine influences which had filled the day, and which now +haunted the night.</p> + +<p>After breakfast next morning Mrs Norton stopped John as he was going +upstairs to unpack his books. "Now," she said, "you must go out for a +walk with Kitty Hare, and I hope you will make yourself agreeable. I +want you to see the new greenhouse I have put up; she'll show it to you. +And I told the bailiff to meet you in the yard. I thought you might like +to see him."</p> + +<p>"I wish, mother, you would not interfere in my business; had I wanted to +see Burnes I should have sent for him."</p> + +<p>"If you don't want to see him, he wants to see you. There are some +cottages on the farm that must be put into repair at once. As for +interfering in your business, I don't know how you can talk like that; +were it not for me the whole place would be falling to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Quite true; I know you save me a great deal of expense; but really ..."</p> + +<p>"Really what? You won't go out to walk with Kitty Hare?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say I wouldn't, but I must say that I am very busy just now. +I had thought of doing a little reading, for I have an appointment with +my solicitor in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"That man charges you £200 a-year for collecting the rents; now, if you +were to do it yourself, you would save the money, and it would give you +something to do."</p> + +<p>"Something to do! I have too much to do as it is.... But if I am going +out with Kitty.... Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"I saw her go into the library a moment ago."</p> + +<p>And as it was preferable to go for a walk with Kitty than to continue +the interview with his mother, John seized his hat and called Kitty, +Kitty, Kitty! Presently she appeared, and they walked towards the +garden, talking. She told him she had been at Thornby Place the whole +time the greenhouse was being built, and when they opened the door they +were greeted by Sammy. He sprang instantly on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"This is my cat," she said. "I've fed him since he was a little kitten; +isn't he sweet?"</p> + +<p>The girl was beautiful on the brilliant flower background; she stroked +the great caressing creature, and when she put him down he mewed +reproachfully. Further on her two tame rooks cawed joyously, and +alighted on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I wonder they don't fly away, and join the others in the trees."</p> + +<p>"One did go away, and he came back nearly dead with hunger. But he is +all right now, aren't you, dear?" And the bird cawed, and rubbed its +black head against its mistress' cheek. "Poor little things, they fell +out of the nest before they could fly, and I brought them up. But you +don't care for pets, do you, John?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like birds!"</p> + +<p>"Don't like birds! Why, that seems as strange as if you said that you +didn't like flowers."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Norton told me, sir, that you would like to speak to me about them +cottages on the Erringham Farm," said the bailiff.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I must go over and see them to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. +I intend to go thoroughly into everything. How are they getting on with +the cottages that were burnt down?"</p> + +<p>"Rather slow, sir, the weather is so bad."</p> + +<p>"But talking of fire, Burnes, I find that I can insure at a much cheaper +rate at Lloyds' than at most of the offices. I find that I shall make a +saving of £20 a-year."</p> + +<p>"That's worth thinking about, sir."</p> + +<p>While the young squire talked to his bailiff Kitty fed her rooks. They +cawed, and flew to her hand for the scraps of meat. The coachman came +to speak about oats and straw. They went to the stables. Kitty adored +horses, it amused John to see her pat them, and her vivacity and +light-heartedness rather pleased him than otherwise.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, during the whole of the following week the ladies held +little communication with John. He lived apart from them. In the +mornings he went out with his bailiffs to inspect farms and consult +about possible improvement and necessary repairs. He had appointments +with his solicitor. There were accounts to be gone through. He never +paid a bill without verifying every item. It was difficult to say what +should be done with a farm for which a tenant could not be found even at +a reduced rent. At four o'clock he came into tea, his head full of +calculations of such a complex character that even his mother could not +follow the different statements to his satisfaction. When she disagreed +with him, he took up the "Epistles of St Columban of Bangor," the +"Epistola ad Sethum," or the celebrated poem, "Epistola ad Fedolium," +written when the saint was seventy-two, and continued his reading, +making copious notes in a pocket-book. To do so he drew his chair close +to the library fire, and when Kitty came quickly into the room with a +flutter of skirts and a sound of laughter, he awoke from contemplation, +and her singing as she ascended the stairs jarred the dreams of cloister +and choir which mounted from the pages to his brain in clear and +intoxicating rhapsody.</p> + +<p>On the third of November Mrs Norton announced that the meet of the +hounds had been fixed for the fifteenth, and that there would be a hunt +breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear mother! you don't mean that they are coming here to lunch!"</p> + +<p>"For the last twenty years all our side of the county has been in the +habit of coming here to lunch, but of course you can shut your doors to +all your friends and acquaintances. No doubt they will think you have +come down here on purpose to insult them."</p> + +<p>"Insult them! why should I insult them? I haven't seen them since I was +a boy. I remember that the hunt breakfast used to go on all day long. +Every woman in the county used to come, and they used to stay to tea, +and you used to insist on a great number remaining to supper."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can put a stop to all that now that you have consented to +come to Thornby Place, only I hope you don't expect me to remain here to +see my friends insulted."</p> + +<p>"But just think of the expense! and in these bad times. You know I +cannot find a tenant for the Woreington farm. I am afraid I shall have +to provide the capital and farm it myself. Now, in the face of such +losses, don't you think that we should retrench?"</p> + +<p>"Retrench! A few fowls and rounds of beef! You don't think of +retrenching when you present Stanton College with a stained glass window +that costs five hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you like it, mother..."</p> + +<p>"I like nothing but what you like, but I really think that for you to +put down the hunt breakfast the first time you honour us with a visit, +would look very much as if you intended to insult the whole county."</p> + +<p>"It will be a day of misery for me!" replied John, laughing; "but I +daresay I shall live through it."</p> + +<p>"I think you will like it very much," said Kitty. "There will be a lot +of pretty girls here: the Misses Green are coming from Worthing; the +eldest is such a pretty girl, you are sure to admire her. And the hounds +and horses look so beautiful."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke daily of invitations, and later on of cooking +and the various things that were wanted. John continued to go through +his accounts in the morning, and to read monkish Latin in the evening; +but he was secretly nervous, and he dreaded the approaching day.</p> + +<p>He was called an hour earlier—eight o'clock; he drank a cup of cold tea +and ate a piece of dry toast in a back room. The dining-room was full +of servants, who laid out a long table rich with comestibles and +glittering with glass. Mrs Norton and Kitty were upstairs dressing.</p> + +<p>He wandered into the drawing-room and viewed the dead, cumbrous +furniture; the two cabinets bright with brass and veneer. He stood at +the window staring. It was raining. The yellow of the falling leaves was +hidden in the grey mist. It ceased to rain. "This weather will keep many +away; so much the better; there will be too many as it is. I wonder who +this can be." A melancholy brougham passed up the drive. There were +three old maids, all looking sweetly alike; one was a cripple who walked +with crutches, and her smile was the best and the gayest imaginable +smile.</p> + +<p>"How little material welfare has to do with our happiness," thought +John. "There is one whose path is the narrowest, and she is happier and +better than I." And then the three sweet old maids talked with their +cousin of the weather; and they all wondered—a sweet feminine +wonderment—if he would see a girl that day whom he would marry.</p> + +<p>Presently the house was full of people. The passage was full of girls; a +few men sat at breakfast at the end of the long table. Some red coats +passed across the green glare of the park, and the hounds trotted about +a single horseman. Voices. "Oh! how sweet they look! oh, the dear dogs!" +The huntsman stopped in front of the house, the hounds sniffed here and +there, the whips trotted their horses and drove them back. "Get +together, get together; get back there; Woodland, Beauty, come up here." +The hounds rolled on the grass, and leaned their fore-paws on the +railings, willing to be caressed.</p> + +<p>"How sweet they are, look at their soft eyes," cried an old lady whose +deity was a pug, and whose back garden reeked of the tropics. "Look how +good and kind they are; they would not hurt anything; it is only wicked +men who teach them to be ..." The old lady hesitated before the word +"bad," and murmured something about killing.</p> + +<p>There was a lady with melting eyes, many children, and a long sealskin, +and she availed herself of the excuse of seeing the hounds to rejoin a +young man in whom she was interested. There was an old sportsman of +seventy winters, as hale and as hearty as an oak, standing on the +door-step, and he made John promise to come over and see him. The girls +strolled about in groups. As usual young men were lacking. Looking at +his watch, the huntsman pressed the sides of his horse, and rode to draw +the covers at the end of the park. The ladies followed to see the start, +although the mud was inches deep under foot. "Hu in, hu in," cried the +huntsman. The whips trotted round cracking their long whips. Not a sound +was heard. Suddenly there was a whimper, "Hark to Woodland," cried the +huntsman. The hounds rallied to the point, but nothing came of it. +Apparently the old bitch was at fault. The huntsman muttered something +inaudible. But some few hundred yards further on, in an outlying clump +where no one would expect to find, a fox broke clean away.</p> + +<p>The country is as flat as a smooth sea. Chanctonbury Ring stands up like +a mighty cliff on a northern shore; its crown of trees is grim. The +abrupt ascents of Toddington Mount bear away to the left, and tide-like +the fields flow up into the great gulf between.</p> + +<p>"He's making for the furze, but he'll never reach them; he got no start, +and the ground is heavy."</p> + +<p>Then the watchers saw the horsemen making their way up the chalky roads +cut in the precipitous side of the downs. Rain began to fall, umbrellas +were put up, and all hurried home to lunch.</p> + +<p>"Now John, try and make yourself agreeable, go over and talk to some of +the young ladies. Why do you dress yourself in that way? Have you no +other coat? You look like a young priest. Look at that young man over +there! how nicely dressed he is! I wish you would let your moustache +grow; it would improve you immensely." With these and similar remarks +whispered to him, Mrs Norton continued to exasperate her son until the +servants announced that lunch was ready. "Take in Mrs So-and-so," she +said to John, who would fain have escaped from the melting glances of +the lady in the long sealskin. He offered her his arm with an air of +resignation, and set to work valiantly to carve a huge turkey.</p> + +<p>As soon as the servants had cleared away after one set another came, and +although the meet was a small one, John took six ladies in to lunch. +About half-past three the men adjourned to the billiard-room to smoke. +The girls, mighty in numbers, followed, and, with their arms round each +other's waists, and interlacing fingers, they grouped themselves about +the room. Two huntsmen returned dripping wet, and much to his annoyance, +John had to furnish them with a change of clothes. There was tea in the +drawing-room about five o'clock, and soon after the visitors began to +take their leave.</p> + +<p>The wind blew very coldly, the roosting rooks rose out of the branches, +and the carriages rolled into the night; but still a remnant of visitors +stood on the steps talking to John. His cold was worse; he felt very +ill, and now a long sharp pain had grown through his left side, and +momentarily it became more and more difficult to exchange polite words +and smiles. The footmen stood waiting by the open door, the horses +champed their bits, the green of the park was dark, and a group of +kissing girls moved about the loggia, wheels grated on the gravel ... all +were gone! The butler shut the door, and John went to the library fire.</p> + +<p>There his mother found him. She saw that something was seriously the +matter. He was helped up to bed, and the doctor was sent for. A bad +attack of pleurisy. John was rolled up in an enormous mustard +plaster—mustard and cayenne pepper; it bit into the flesh. He roared +with pain; he was slightly delirious; he cursed those around him, using +blasphemous language.</p> + +<p>For more than a week he suffered. He lay bent over, unable to +straighten himself, as if a nerve had been wound up too tightly in the +left side. He was fed on gruel and beef-tea, the room was kept very +warm; it was not until the twelfth day that he was taken out of bed.</p> + +<p>"You have had a narrow escape," the doctor said to John, who, well +wrapped up, lay back, looking very weak and pale, before a blazing fire. +"It was very lucky I was sent for. Twenty-four hours later I would not +have answered for your life."</p> + +<p>"I was delirious, was I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, slightly; you cursed and swore fearfully at us when we rolled you +up in the mustard plaster.... Well, it was very hot, and must have burnt +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was; it has scarcely left a bit of skin on me. But did I use +very bad language? I suppose I could not help it.... I was delirious, +was I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, slightly."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I remember, and if I remember right, I used very bad +language; and people when they are really delirious do not know what +they say. Is not that so, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"If they are really delirious they do not remember, but you were only +slightly delirious ... you were maddened by the pain occasioned by the +pungency of the plaster."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but do you think I knew what I was saying?"</p> + +<p>"You must have known what you were saying, because you remember what you +said."</p> + +<p>"But could I be held accountable for what I said?"</p> + +<p>"Accountable.... Well, I hardly know what you mean. You were certainly +not in the full possession of your senses. Your mother (Mrs Norton) was +very much shocked, but I told her that you were not accountable for what +you said."</p> + +<p>"Then I could not be held accountable, I did not know what I was +saying."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you did exactly; people in a passion don't know what +they say!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes, but we are answerable for sins committed in the heat of +passion: we should restrain our passion; we were wrong in the first +instance in giving way to passion.... But I was ill, it was not exactly +passion. And I was very near death; I had a narrow escape, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I can call it a narrow escape."</p> + +<p>The voices ceased,—five o'clock,—the curtains were rosy with lamp +light, and conscience awoke in the langours of convalescent hours. "I +stood on the verge of death!" The whisper died away. John was still very +weak, and he had not strength to think with much insistance, but now and +then remembrance surprised him suddenly like pain; it came unexpectedly, +he knew not whence nor how, but he could not choose but listen. Each +interval of thought grew longer; the scabs of forgetfulness were picked +away, the red sore was exposed bleeding and bare. Was he responsible for +those words? He could remember them all now; each like a burning arrow +lacerated his bosom, and he pulled them to and fro. Remembrance in the +watches of the night, dawn fills the dark spaces of a window, +meditations grow more and more lucid. He could now distinguish the +instantaneous sensation of wrong that had flashed on his excited mind in +the moment of his sinning.... Then he could think no more, and in the +twilight of contrition he dreamed vaguely of God's great goodness, of +penance, of ideal atonements. Christ hung on the cross, and far away the +darkness was seared with flames and demons.</p> + +<p>And as strength returned, remembrance of his blasphemies grew stronger +and fiercer, and often as he lay on his pillow, his thoughts passing in +long procession, his soul would leap into intense suffering. "I stood on +the verge of death with blasphemies on my tongue. I might have been +called to confront my Maker with horrible blasphemies in my heart and on +my tongue; but He in His Divine goodness spared me: He gave me time to +repent. Am I answerable, O my God, for those dreadful words that I +uttered against Thee, because I suffered a little pain, against Thee Who +once died on the cross to save me! O God, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy +look down on me, on me! Vouchsafe me Thy mercy, O my God, for I was +weak! My sin is loathsome; I prostrate myself before Thee, I cry aloud +for mercy!"</p> + +<p>Then seeing Christ amid His white million of youths, beautiful singing +saints, gold curls and gold aureoles, lifted throats, and form of harp +and dulcimer, he fell prone in great bitterness on the misery of earthly +life. His happinesses and ambitions appeared to him less than the +scattering of a little sand on the sea-shore. Joy is passion, passion is +suffering; we cannot desire what we possess, therefore desire is +rebellion prolonged indefinitely against the realities of existence; +when we attain the object of our desire, we must perforce neglect it in +favour of something still unknown, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. The winds of folly and desolation howl about us; the sorrows +of happiness are the worst to bear, and the wise soon learn that there +is nothing to dream of but the end of desire.... God is the one ideal, +the Church the one shelter from the misery and meanness of life. Peace +is inherent in lofty arches, rapture in painted panes.... See the mitres +and crosiers, the blood-stained heavenly breasts, the loin-linen hanging +over orbs of light.... Listen! ah! the voices of chanting boys, and out +of the cloud of incense come Latin terminations, and the organ still is +swelling.</p> + +<p>In such religious æstheticisms the soul of John Norton had long +slumbered, but now it awoke in remorse and pain, and, repulsing its +habitual exaltations even as if they were sins, he turned to the primal +idea of the vileness of this life, and its sole utility in enabling man +to gain heaven. Beauty, what was it but temptation? He winced before a +conclusion so repugnant to him, but the terrors of the verge on which +he had so lately stood were still upon him in all their force, and he +crushed his natural feelings....</p> + +<p>The manifestation of modern pessimism in John Norton has been described, +and how its influence was checked by constitutional mysticity has also +been shown. Schopenhauer, when he overstepped the line ruled by the +Church, was instantly rejected. From him John Norton's faith had +suffered nothing; the severest and most violent shocks had come from +another side—a side which none would guess, so complex and +contradictory are the involutions of the human brain. Hellenism, Greek +culture and ideal; academic groves; young disciples, Plato and Socrates, +the august nakedness of the Gods were equal, or almost equal, in his +mind with the lacerated bodies of meagre saints; and his heart wavered +between the temple of simple lines and the cathedral of a thousand +arches. Once there had been a sharp struggle, but Christ, not Apollo, +had been the victor, and the great cross in the bedroom of Stanton +College overshadowed the beautiful slim body in which Divinity seemed to +circulate like blood; and this photograph was all that now remained of +much youthful anguish and much temptation.</p> + +<p>A fact to note is that his sense of reality had always remained in a +rudimentary state; it was, as it were, diffused over the world and +mankind. For instance, his belief in the misery and degradation of +earthly life, and the natural bestiality of man, was incurable; but of +this or that individual he had no opinion; he was to John Norton a blank +sheet of paper, to which he could not affix even a title. His childhood +had been one of bitter tumult and passionate sorrow; the different and +dissident ideals growing up in his heart and striving for the mastery, +had torn and tortured him, and he had long lain as upon a mental rack. +Ignorance of the material laws of existence had extended even into his +sixteenth year, and when, bit by bit, the veil fell, and he understood, +he was filled with loathing of life and mad desire to wash himself free +of its stain; and it was this very hatred of natural flesh that +precipitated a perilous worship of the deified flesh of the God. But +mysticity saved him from plain paganism, and the art of the Gothic +cathedral grew dear to him. It was nearer akin to him, and he assuaged +his wounded soul in the ecstacies of incense and the great charms of +Gregorian chant.</p> + +<p>But fear now for the first time took possession of him, and he +realised—if not in all its truth, at least in part—that his love of +God had only taken the form of a gratification of the senses, a +sensuality higher but as intense as those which he so much reproved. +Fear smouldered in his very entrails, and doubt fumed and went out like +steam—long lines and falling shadows and slowly dispersing clouds. His +life had been but a sin, an abomination, and the fairest places darkened +as the examination of conscience proceeded. His thought whirled in +dreadful night, soul-torturing contradictions came suddenly under his +eyes, like images in a night-mare; and in horror and despair, as a woman +rising from a bed of small-pox drops the mirror after the first glance, +and shrinks from destroying the fair remembrance of her face by pursuing +the traces of the disease through every feature, he hid his face in his +hands and called for forgiveness—for escape from the endless record of +his conscience. With staring eyes and contracted brows he saw the flames +which await him who blasphemes. To the verge of those flames he had +drifted. If God in His infinite mercy had not withheld him?... He +pictured himself lost in fires and furies. Then looking up he saw the +face of Christ, grown pitiless in final time—Christ standing immutable +amid His white million of youths....</p> + +<p>And the worthlessness and the abjectness of earthly life struck him with +awful and all-convincing power, and this vision of the worthlessness of +existence was clearer than any previous vision. He paused. There was but +one conclusion ... it looked down upon him like a star—he would become a +priest. All darkness, all madness, all fear faded, and with sure and +certain breath he breathed happiness; the sense of consecration nestled +in its heart, and its light shone upon his face.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in the past, but there is the sweetness of meditation +in the present, and in the future there is God. Like a fountain flowing +amid a summer of leaves and song, the sweet hours came with quiet and +melodious murmur. In the great arm-chair of his ancestors he sits thin +and tall. Thin and tall. The great flames decorate the darkness, and the +twilight sheds upon the rose curtains, walking birds and falling petals. +But his thoughts are dreaming through long aisle and solemn arch, clouds +of incense and painted panes.... The palms rise in great curls like the +sky; and amid the opulence of gold vestments, the whiteness of the +choir, the Latin terminations and the long abstinences, the holy oil +comes like a kiss that never dies ... and in full glory of symbol and +chant, the very savour of God descends upon him ... and then he awakes, +surprised to find such dreams out of sleep.</p> + +<p>His resolve did not alter; he longed for health because it would bring +the realisation of his desire, and time appeared to him cruelly long. +Nor could he think of the pain he inflicted on his mother, so centred +was he in this thought; he was blind to her sorrowing face, he was deaf +to her entreaty; he could neither feel nor see beyond the immediate +object he had in mind, and he spoke to her in despair of the length of +months that separated him from consecration; he speculated on the +possibility of expediting that happy day by a dispensation from the +Pope. The moment he could obtain permission from the doctor he ordered +his trunks to be packed, and when he bid Mrs Norton and Kitty Hare +good-bye, he exacted a promise from the former to be present at Stanton +College on Palm Sunday. He wished her to be present when he embraced +Holy Orders.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a><h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Every morning Mrs Norton flung her black shawl over her shoulders, +rattled her keys, and scolded the servants at the end of the long +passage. Kitty, as she watered the flowers in the greenhouse, often +wondered why John had chosen to become a priest and grieve his mother. +Three times out of five when the women met at lunch, Mrs Norton said:</p> + +<p>"Kitty, would you like to come out for a drive?"</p> + +<p>Kitty answered, "I don't mind; just as you like, Mrs Norton."</p> + +<p>After tea at five Kitty read for an hour, and in the evening she played +the piano; and she sometimes endeavoured to console her hostess by +suggesting that people did change their minds, and that John might not +become a priest after all. Mrs Norton looked at the girl, and it was +often on her lips to say, "If you had only flirted, if you had only paid +him some attentions, all might have been different." But heart-broken +though she was, Mrs Norton could not speak the words. The girl looked so +candid, so flowerlike in her guilelessness, that the thought seemed a +pollution. And in a few days Mr Hare sent for Kitty; and with her +departed the last ray of sunlight, and Thornby Place grew too sad and +solitary for Mrs Norton.</p> + +<p>She went to visit some friends; she spent Christmas at the Rectory; and +in the long evenings when Kitty had gone to bed, she opened her heart to +her old friend. The last hope was gone; there was nothing for her to +look for now. John did not even write to her; she had not heard from him +since he left. It was very wrong of the Jesuits to encourage him in such +conduct, and she thought of laying the whole matter before the Pope. The +order had once been suppressed; she did not remember by what Pope; but +a Pope had grown tired of their intrigues, and had suppressed the order. +She made these accusations in moments of passion, and immediately after +came deep regret.... How wrong of her to speak ill of her religion, and to a +Protestant! If John did become a priest it would be a punishment for her sins. +But what was she saying? If John became a priest, she should thank God for +His great goodness. What greater honour could he bestow upon her? Next +day she took the train to Brighton, and went to confession; and that +very same evening she pleadingly suggested to Mr Hare that he should go +to Stanton College, and endeavour to persuade John to return home. The +parson was of course obliged to decline. He advised her to leave the +matter in the hands of God, and Mrs Norton went to bed a prey to +scruples of conscience of all kinds.</p> + +<p>She even began to think it wrong to remain any longer in an essentially +Protestant atmosphere. But to return to Thornby Place alone was +impossible, and she begged for Kitty. The parson was loth to part with +his daughter, but he felt there was much suffering beneath the calm +exterior that Mrs Norton preserved. He could refuse her nothing, and he +let Kitty go.</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why you should not come and dine with us every day; +but I shall not let you have her back for the next two months."</p> + +<p>"What day will you come and see us, father dear?" said Kitty, leaning +out of the carriage window.</p> + +<p>"On Thursday," cried the parson.</p> + +<p>"Very well, we shall expect you," replied Mrs Norton; and with a sigh +she sank back on the cushions, and fell to thinking of her son.</p> + +<p>At Thornby Place everything was soon discovered to be in a sad state of +neglect. There was much work to be done in the greenhouse, the azaleas +were being devoured by insects, and the leaves required a thorough +washing. It was easy to see that the cats had not been regularly fed, +and one of the tame rooks had flown away. Remedying these disasters, +Mrs Norton and Kitty hurried to and fro. There was a ball at Steyning, +and Mrs Norton consented to do the chaperon for once; and the girl's +dress was a subject of gossip for a month—for a fortnight an absorbing +occupation. Most of the people who had been at the hunt breakfast were +at the ball, and Kitty had plenty of partners. These suggested husbands +to Mrs Norton, and she questioned Kitty; but she did not seem to have +thought of the ball except in the light of a toy which she had been +allowed to play with one evening. The young men she had met there had +apparently interested her no more than if they had been girls, and she +regretted John only because of Mrs Norton. Every morning she ran to see +if there was a letter, so that it might be she who brought the good +news. But no letter came. Since Christmas John had written two short +notes, and now they were well on in April. But one morning as she stood +watching the springtide, Kitty saw him walking up the drive; the sky +was growing bright with blue, and the beds were catching flower beneath +the evergreen oaks. She ran to Mrs Norton, who was attending to the +canaries in the bow-window.</p> + +<p>"Look, look, Mrs Norton, John is coming up the drive; it is he; look!"</p> + +<p>"John!" said Mrs Norton, seeking for her glasses nervously; "yes, so it +is; let's run and meet him. But no; let's take him rather coolly. I +believe half his eccentricity is only put on because he wishes to +astonish us. We won't ask him any questions; we'll just wait and let him +tell his own story...."</p> + +<p>"How do you do, mother?" said the young man, kissing Mrs Norton with +less reluctance than usual. "You must forgive me for not having answered +your letters. It really was not my fault; I have been passing through a +very terrible state of mind lately.... And how do you do, Kitty? Have +you been keeping my mother company ever since? It is very good in you; +I am afraid you must think me a very undutiful son. But what is the +news?"</p> + +<p>"One of the rooks is gone."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?... What about the ball at Steyning? I hear it was a great +success."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was delightful."</p> + +<p>"You must tell me about it after dinner. Now I must go round to the +stables and tell Walls to take the trap round to the station to fetch my +things."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to be here some time?" said Mrs Norton, assuming an +indifferent air.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so; that is to say, for a couple of months—six weeks. I +have some arrangements to make, but I will speak to you about all that +after dinner."</p> + +<p>With these words John left the room, and he left his mother agitated and +frightened.</p> + +<p>"What can he mean by having arrangements to make?" she asked. Kitty +could of course suggest no explanation, and the women waited the +pleasure of the young man to speak his mind. He seemed, however, in no +hurry to do so; and the manner in which he avoided the subject +aggravated his mother's uneasiness. At last she said, unable to bear the +suspense any longer:</p> + +<p>"Are you going to be a priest, John, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, but not a Jesuit...."</p> + +<p>"And why? have you had a quarrel with the Jesuits?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; never mind; I don't like to talk about it; not exactly a +quarrel, but I have seen a great deal of them lately, and I have found +them out. I don't mean in anything wrong, but the order is so entirely +opposed to the monastic spirit. It is difficult to explain; I really +can't.... What I mean is ... well, that their worldliness is repugnant to +me—fashionable friends, confidences, meddling in family affairs, dining +out, letters from ladies who need consolation.... I don't mean anything +wrong; pray don't misunderstand me. I merely mean to say that I hate +their meddling in family affairs. Their confessional is a kind of +marriage bureau; they have always got some plan on for marrying this +person to that, and I must say I hate all that sort of thing.... If I +were a priest I would disdain to ... but perhaps I am wrong to speak like +that. Yes, it is very wrong of me, and before ... Kitty, you must not +think I am speaking against the principles of my religion, I am only +speaking of matters of—"</p> + +<p>"And have you given up your rooms in Stanton College?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet; that is to say, nothing is settled definitely, but I do not +think I shall go back there; at least not to live."</p> + +<p>"And you still are determined on becoming a priest?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, but not a Jesuit."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"A Carmelite. I have seen a great deal of these monks lately, and it is +only they who preserve some of the old spirit of the old ideal. To enter +the Carmelite Chapel in Kensington is to step out of the mean +atmosphere of to-day into the lofty charm of the Middle Ages. The long +straight folds of habits falling over sandalled feet, the great rosaries +hanging down from the girdles, the smell of burning wax, the large +tonsures, the music of the choir; I know nothing like it. Last Sunday I +heard them sing St Fortunatus' hymn,... the <i>Vexilla regis</i> heard in the +cloud of incense, and the wrath of the organ!... splendid are the rhymes! +the first stanza in U and O, the second in A, and the third in E; +passing over the closed vowels, the hymn ascends the scale of sound—"</p> + +<p>"Now, John, none of that nonsense; how dare you, sir? Don't attempt to +laugh at your mother."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, you must not think I am sneering because I speak of +what is uppermost in my mind. I have determined to become a Carmelite +monk, and that is why I came down here."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton was very angry; her temper fumed, and she would have burst +into violent words had not the last words, "and that is why I came down +here," frightened her into calmness.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she said, turning round in her chair. "You came down +here to become a Carmelite monk; what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>John hesitated. He was clearly a little frightened, but having gone so +far he felt he must proceed. Besides, to-day, or to-morrow, sooner or +later the truth would have to be told. He said:</p> + +<p>"I intend altering the house a little here and there; you know how +repugnant this mock Italian architecture is to my feelings.... I am +coming to live here with some monks—"</p> + +<p>"You must be mad, sir; you mean to say that you intend to pull down the +house of your ancestors and turn it into a monastery?"</p> + +<p>John drew a breath of relief, the worst was over now; she had spoken the +fulness of his thought. Yes, he was going to turn Thornby Place into a +monastery.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "if you like to put it in that way. Yes, I am going to +turn Thornby Place into a monastery. Why shouldn't I? I am resolved +never to marry; and I have no one except those dreadful cousins to leave +the place to. Why shouldn't I turn it into a monastery and become a +monk? I wish to save my soul."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton groaned.</p> + +<p>"But you make me say more than I mean. To turn the place into a Gothic +monastery, such a monastery as I dreamed would not be possible, unless +indeed I pulled the whole place down, and I have not sufficient money to +do that, and I do not wish to mortgage the property. For the present I +am determined only on a few alterations. I have them all in my head. The +billiard room, that addition of yours, can be turned into a chapel. And +the casements of the dreadful bow-window might be removed, and mullions +and tracery fixed on, and, instead of the present flat roof, a sloping +tiled roof might be carried up against the wall of the house. The +cloisters would come at the back of the chapel."</p> + +<p>John stopped aghast at the sorrow he was causing, and he looked at his +mother. She did not speak. Her ears were full of merciless ruins; hope +vanished in the white dust; and the house with its memories sacred and +sweet fell pitilessly: beams lying this way and that, the piece of +exposed wall with the well-known wall paper, the crashing of slates. How +they fall! John's heart was rent with grief, but he could not stay his +determination any more than his breath. Youth is a season of suffering, +we cannot surrender our desire, and it lies heavy and burning on our +hearts. It is so easy for age, so hard for youth to make sacrifices. +Youth is and must be wholly, madly selfish; it is not until we have +learnt the folly of our aims that we may forget them, that we may pity +the sufferings of others, that we may rejoice in the triumphs of our +friends. To the superficial therefore, John Norton will appear but the +incarnation of egotism and priggishness, but those who see deeper will +have recognised that he is one who has suffered bitterly, as bitterly +as the outcast who lies dead in his rags beneath the light of the +policeman's lantern. Mental and physical wants!—he who may know one may +not know the other: is not the absence of one the reason of the other? +Mental and physical wants! the two planes of suffering whence the great +divisions of mankind view and envy the other's destinies, as we view a +passing pageant, as those who stand on the decks of crossing ships gaze +regretfully back.</p> + +<p>Those who have suffered much physical want will never understand John +Norton; he will find commiseration only from those who have realised <i>à +priori</i> the worthlessness of existence, the vileness of life; above all, +from those who, conscious of a sense of life's degradation, impetuously +desire their ideal—the immeasurable ideal which lies before them, +clear, heavenly, and crystalline; the sea into which they would plunge +their souls, but in whose benedictive waters they may only dip their +fingertips, and crossing themselves, pass up the aisle of human +tribulation. We suffer in proportion to our passions. But John Norton +had no passion, say they who see passion only in carnal dissipation. Yet +the passions of the spirit are more terrible than those of the flesh; +the passion for God, the passion of revolt against the humbleness of +life; and there is no peace until passion of whatever kind has wailed +itself out.</p> + +<p>Foolish are they who describe youth as a time of happiness; it is one of +fever and anguish.</p> + +<p>Beneath its apparent calm, there was never a stormier youth than John's. +The boy's heart that grieves to death for a chorus-girl, the little +clerk who mourns to madness for the bright life that flashes from the +point of sight of his high office stool, never felt more keenly the +nervous pain of desire and the lassitudes of resistance. You think John +Norton did not suffer in his imperious desire to pull down the home of +his fathers and build a monastery! Mrs Norton's grief was his grief, but +to stem the impulse that bore him along was too keen a pain to be +endured. His desire whelmed him like a wave; it filled his soul like a +perfume, and against his will it rose to his lips in words. Even when +the servants were present he could not help discussing the architectural +changes he had determined upon, and as the vision of the cloister, with +its reading and chanting monks, rose to his head, he talked, blinded by +strange enthusiasm, of latticed windows, and sandals.</p> + +<p>His mother bit her thin lips, and her face tightened in an expression of +settled grief. Kitty was sorry for Mrs Norton, but Kitty was too young +to understand, and her sorrow evaporated in laughter. She listened to +John's explanations of the future as to a fairy tale suddenly touched +with the magic of realism. That the old could not exist in conjunction +with the new order of things never grew into the painful precision of +thought in her mind. She saw but the show side; she listened as to an +account of private theatricals, and in spite of Mrs Norton's visible +grief, she was amused when John described himself walking at the head +of his monks with tonsured head and a great rosary hanging from a +leather girdle. Her innocent gaiety attracted her to him. As they walked +about the grounds after breakfast, he spoke to her about pictures and +statues, of a trip he intended to take to Italy and Spain, and he did +not seem to care to be reminded that this jarred with his project for +immediate realisation of Thornby Priory.</p> + +<p>Leaning their backs against the iron railing which divided the green +sward from the park, John and Kitty looked at the house.</p> + +<p>"From this view it really is not so bad, though the urns and the loggia +are so intolerably out of keeping with the landscape. But when I have +made my alterations it will harmonise with the downs and the +flat-flowing country, so English with its barns and cottages and rich +agriculture, and there will be then a charming recollection of old +England, the England of the monastic ages, before the—but I forgot, I +must not speak to you on that subject."</p> + +<p>"Do you think the house will look prettier than it does now? Mrs Norton +says that it will be impossible to alter Italian architecture into +Gothic.... Of course I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Mother does not know what she is talking about. I have it all down in +my pocket-book. I have various plans.... I admit it is not easy, but +last night I fancy I hit on an idea. I shall of course consult an +architect, although really I don't see there is any necessity for so +doing, but just to be on the safe side; for in architecture there are +many practical difficulties, and to be on the safe side I will consult +an experienced man regarding the practical working out of my design. I +made this drawing last night." John produced a large pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"But, oh, how pretty; will it be really like that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," exclaimed John, delighted; "it will be exactly like that; but I +will read you my notes, and then you will understand it better.</p> + +<p>"<i>Alter and add to the front to represent the façade of a small +cathedral. This can be done by building out a projection the entire +width of the building, and one storey in height. This will be divided +into three arched divisions, topped with small gables</i>."</p> + +<p>"What are gables, John?"</p> + +<p>"Those are the gables. <i>The centre one (forming entrance) being rather +higher than the other gables. The entrance would be formed with +clustered columns and richly moulded pointed arches, the door being +solid, heavy oak, with large scroll and hammered iron hinges</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The centre front and back would be carried up to form steep gables, +the roof being heightened to match. The large gable in front to have a +large cross at apex</i>."</p> + +<p>"What is an apex? What words you do use."</p> + +<p>John explained, Kitty laughed.</p> + +<p>"The top I have indicated in the drawing. <i>And to have a rose window</i>. +You see the rose window in the drawing," said John, anticipating the +question which was on Kitty's lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she, "but why don't you say a round window?"</p> + +<p>Without answering John continued:</p> + +<p>"<i>The first floor fronts would be arcaded round with small columns with +carved capitals and pointed arches</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>At either corner of front, in lieu of present Ionic columns, carry up +octagonal turrets with pinnacles at top</i>.</p> + +<p>"You see them in the drawing. These are the octagonal turrets."</p> + +<p>"And which are the pinnacles?"</p> + +<p>"The ornaments at the top.</p> + +<p>"<i>From the centre of the roof carry up a square tower with battlemented +parapets and pinnacles at all corners, and flying buttresses from the +turrets of the main buildings</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The bow window at side will have the old casements removed, and have +mullions and tracery fixed and filled with cathedral glazings, and, +instead of the present flat, a sloping roof will be carried up and +finished against the outer wall of the house. At either side of bay +window buttresses with moulded water-tables, plinths, &c.c.</i></p> + +<p>"<i>From these roofs and the front projections at intersection of small +gables, carved gargoyles to carry off water</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The billiard-room to be converted into a chapel, by building a new +high-pitched roof</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, why should you do away with the billiard-room; why shouldn't +the monks play billiards? You played billiards on the day of the meet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I am not a monk yet. No one ever heard of monks playing +billiards; besides, that dreadful addition of my mother's could not +remain in its present form, it would be ludicrous to a degree, whereas +it can be converted very easily into a chapel. We must have a +chapel—<i>building a high-pitched timber roof, throwing out an apse at +the end, and putting in mullioned and traceried windows filled with +stained glass</i>."</p> + +<p>"And the cloister you are always speaking about, where will that be?"</p> + +<p>"The cloister will come at the back of the chapel, and an arched and +vaulted ambulatory will be laid round the house. Later on I shall add a +refectory, and put a lavatory at one end of the ambulatory."</p> + +<p>"But don't you think, John, you may get tired of being a monk, and then +the house will have to be built back again."</p> + +<p>"Never, the house will be from every point of view, a better house when +my alterations are carried into effect. Beside, why should I be tired of +being a monk? Your father does not get tired of being a parson."</p> + +<p>This reply, although singularly unconvincing, was difficult to answer, +and the conversation fell. And day by day, John's schemes strengthened +and took shape, and he seemed to look upon himself already as a +Carmelite. He had even gone so far as to order a habit, it had arrived a +few days ago; and an architect, too, had come down from London. He was +the ray of hope in Mrs Norton's life. For although he had loudly +commended the artistic taste exhibited in the drawing, and expressed +great wonderment at John's architectural skill, he had, nevertheless, +when questioned as to their practicability, declared the scheme to be +wholly impossible. And the reasons he advanced in support of his +opinions were so conclusive that John was fain to beg of him to draw up +a more possible plan for the conversion of an Italian house into a +Gothic monastery.</p> + +<p>Mr —— seemed to think the idea a wild one, but he promised to see what +could be done to overcome the difficulties he foresaw, and in a week he +forwarded John several drawings for his consideration. Judged by +comparison with John's dreams, the practical architecture of the +experienced man seemed altogether lacking in expression and in poetry +of proportion; and comparing them with his own cherished project, John +hung over the billiard-table, where the drawings were laid out, hour +after hour, only to rise more bitterly fretful, more utterly unable than +usual to reconcile himself to natural limitation, more hopelessly +longing for the unattainable.</p> + +<p>He could think of nothing but his monastery; his Latin authors were +forgotten; he drew façades and turrets on the cloth during dinner, and +he went up to his room, not to bed, but to reconsider the difficulties +that rendered the construction of a central tower an impossibility.</p> + +<p>Midnight: the house seems alive in the silence: night is on the world. +The twilight sheds on the walking birds, on the falling petals, and in +the rich shadow the candle burns brightly. The great bridal bed yawns, +the lace pillows lie wide, the curtains hang dreamily in the hallowed +light. John leans over his drawings. Once again he takes up the +architect's notes.</p> + +<p>"<i>The interior would be so constructed as to make it impossible to +carry up the central tower. The outer walls would not be strong enough +to take the large gables and roof. Although the chapel could be done +easily, the ambulatory would be of no use, as it would lead probably +from the kitchen offices.</i></p> + +<p>"<i>Would have to reduce work on front façade to putting in new arched +entrance. Buttresses would take the place of columns</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The bow-window could remain</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The roof to be heightened somewhat. The front projection would throw +the front rooms into almost total darkness</i>."</p> + +<p>"But why not a light timber lantern tower?" thought John. "Yes, that +would get over the difficulty. Now if we could only manage to keep my +front ... if my design for the front cannot be preserved, I might as well +abandon the whole thing! And then?"</p> + +<p>And then life seemed to him void of meaning and light. He might as well +settle down and marry....</p> + +<p>His face contracted in an expression of anger. He rose from the table, +and he looked round the room. Its appearance was singularly jarring, +shattering as it did his dream of the cloister, and up-building in fancy +the horrid fabric of marriage and domesticity. The room seemed to him a +symbol—with the great bed, voluptuous, the corpulent arm-chair, the +toilet-table shapeless with muslin—of the hideous laws of the world and +the flesh, ever at variance and at war, and ever defeating the +indomitable aspirations of the soul. John ordered his room to be +changed; and, in the face of much opposition from his mother, who +declared that he would never be able to sleep there, and would lose his +health, he selected a narrow room at the end of the passage. He would +have no carpet. He placed a small iron bed against the wall; two plain +chairs, a screen to keep off the draught from the door, a basin-stand +such as you might find in a ship's cabin, and a prie-dieu, were all the +furniture he permitted himself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a relief!" he murmured. "Now there is line, there is definite +shape. That formless upholstery frets my eye as false notes grate on my +ear;" and, becoming suddenly conscious of the presence of God, he fell +on his knees and prayed. He prayed that he might be guided aright in his +undertaking, and that, if it were conducive to the greater honour and +glory of God, he might be permitted to found a monastery, and that he +might be given strength to surmount all difficulties.</p> + +<p>Next morning, calm in mind, and happier, he went downstairs to the +drawing-room, a small book in his hand, an historical work of great +importance by the Venerable Bede, intitled <i>Vita beatorum abbatum +Wiremuthensium, et Girvensiuem, Benedicti Ceolfridi, Easteriwini, +Sigfridi atque Hœtberti</i>. But he could not keep his attention fixed on +the book, it appeared to him dreary and stupid. His thoughts wandered. +He thought of Kitty—of how beautiful she looked on the background of +red geraniums, with the soft yellow cat on her shoulder, and he wondered +which of the four great painters, Manet, Degas, Monet, or Renoir would +have best rendered the brightness and lightness, the intense colour +vitality of that motive for a picture. He thought of her young eyes, of +the pale hands, of the sudden, sharp laugh; and finally he took up one +of her novels, "Red as a Rose is She." He read it, and found it very +entertaining.</p> + +<p>But the evening post brought him a letter from the architect's head +clerk, saying that Mr —— was ill, had not been to the office for the +last three or four days, and would not be able to go down to Sussex +again before the end of the month. Very much annoyed, John spent the +evening thinking whom he could consult on the practicability of his last +design for the front, and next, morning he was surprised at not seeing +Kitty at breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Where is Kitty?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"She is not feeling well; she has a headache, and will not be down +to-day."</p> + +<p>At the end of a long silence, John said:</p> + +<p>"I think I will go into Brighton.... I must really see an architect."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, dear, you are not really determined to pull the house down?"</p> + +<p>"There is no use, mother dear, in our discussing that subject; each and +all of us must do the best we can with life. And the best we can do is +to try and gain heaven."</p> + +<p>"Breaking your mother's heart, and making yourself ridiculous before the +whole county, is not the way to gain heaven."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you are going to talk like that...."</p> + +<p>John went into the drawing-room to continue his reading, but the Latin +bored him even more than it had done yesterday. He took up the novel, +but its enchantment was gone, and it appeared to him in its tawdry, +original vulgarity. He got on a horse and rode towards the downs, and +went up the steep ascents at a gallop. He stood amid the gorse at the +top and viewed the great girdle of blue encircling sea, and the long +string of coast towns lying below him, and far away. Lunch was on the +table when he returned. After lunch, harassed by an obsession of +architectural plans, he went out to sketch. But it rained, and resisting +his mother's invitation to change his clothes, he sat down before the +fire, damp without, and feverishly irritable within. He vacillated an +hour between his translation of St Fortunatus' hymn, <i>Quem terra, pontus +æthera</i>, and "Red as a Rose is She," which, although he thought it as +reprehensible for moral as for literary reasons, he was fain to follow +out to the vulgar end. But he could interest himself in neither hymn nor +novel. For the authenticity of the former he now cared not a jot, and he +threw the book aside vowing that its hoydenish heroine was unbearable +and he would read no more.</p> + +<p>"I never knew a more horrible place to live in than Sussex. Either of +two things: I must alter the architecture of this house, or I must +return to Stanton College."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense, do you think I don't know you? you are boring +yourself because Kitty is upstairs in bed, and cannot walk about with +you."</p> + +<p>"I do not know how you contrive, mother, always to say the most +disagreeable possible things; the marvellous way in which you pick out +what will, at the moment, wound me most is truly wonderful. I compliment +you on your skill, but I confess I am at a loss to understand why you +should, as if by right, expect me to remain here to serve continuously +as a target for the arrows of your scorn."</p> + +<p>John walked out of the room. During dinner mother and son spoke very +little, and he retired early, about ten o'clock, to his room. He was in +high dudgeon, but the white walls, the prie-dieu, the straight, narrow +bed were pleasant to see. His room was the first agreeable impression +of the day. He picked up a drawing from the table, it seemed to him +awkward and slovenly. He sharpened his pencil, cleared his crow-quill +pens, got out his tracing-paper, and sat down to execute a better. But +he had not finished his outline sketch before he leaned back in his +chair, and as if overcome by the insidious warmth of the fire, lapsed +into fire-light attitudes and meditations.</p> + +<p>He looked a little backwards into the blaze; he nibbled his pencil +point. Wavering light and wavering shade followed fast over the Roman +profile, followed and flowed fitfully—fitfully as his thoughts. Now his +thought followed out architectural dreams, and now he thought of +himself, of his unhappy youth, of how he had been misunderstood, of his +solitary life; a bitter, unsatisfactory life, and yet a life not wanting +in an ideal—a glorious ideal. He thought how his projects had always +met with failure, with disapproval, above all failure ... and yet, and +yet he felt, he almost knew there was something great and noble in him. +His eyes brightened; he slipped into thinking of schemes for a monastic +life; and then he thought of his mother's hard disposition and how she +misunderstood him,—everyone misunderstood him. What would the end be? +Would he succeed in creating the monastery he dreamed of so fondly? To +reconstruct the ascetic life of the Middle Ages, that would be something +worth doing, that would be a great ideal—that would make meaning in his +life. If he failed ... what should he do then? His life as it was, was +unbearable ... he must come to terms with life....</p> + +<p>That central tower! how could he manage it! and that built-out front. +Was it true, as the architect said, that it would throw all the front +rooms into darkness? Without this front his design would be worthless. +What a difference it made!</p> + +<p>Kitty liked it. She had thought it charming. How young she was, how +glad and how innocent, and how clever, her age being taken into +consideration. She understood all you said. It would not surprise him if +she developed into something: but she would marry....</p> + +<p>But why was he thinking of her? What concern had she in his life? A +little slip of a girl—a girl—a girl more or less pretty, that was all. +And yet it was pleasant to hear her laugh. That low, sudden laugh—she +was pleasanter company than his mother, she was pleasant to have in the +house, she interrupted many an unpleasant scene. Then he remembered what +his mother had said. She had said that he was disappointed that she was +ill, that he had missed her, that ... that it was because she was not +there that he had found the day so intolerably wearisome.</p> + +<p>Struck as with a dagger, the pain of the wound flowed through him +piercingly; and as a horse stops and stands trembling, for there is +something in the darkness beyond, John shrank back, his nerves +vibrating like highly-strung chords; and ideas—notes of regret and +lamentation died in great vague spaces. Ideas fell.... Was this all; was +this all he had struggled for; was he in love? A girl, a girl ... was a +girl to soil the ideal he had in view? No; he smiled painfully. The sea +of his thoughts grew calmer, the air grew dim and wan, a tall foundered +wreck rose pale and spectral, memories drifted. The long walks, the +talks of the monastery, the neighbours, the pet rooks, and Sammy the +great yellow cat, and the green-houses ... he remembered the pleasure he +had taken in those conversations!</p> + +<p>What must all this lead to? To a coarse affection, to marriage, to +children, to general domesticity.</p> + +<p>And contrasted with this....</p> + +<p>The dignified and grave life of the cloister, the constant sensation of +lofty and elevating thought, a high ideal, the communion of learned men, +the charm of headship.</p> + +<p>Could he abandon this? No, a thousand times no; but there was a melting +sweetness in the other cup. The anticipation filled his veins with +fever.</p> + +<p>And trembling and pale with passion, John fell on his knees and prayed +for grace. But prayer was sour and thin upon his lips, and he could only +beg that the temptation might pass from him....</p> + +<p>"In the morning," he said, "I shall be strong."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_V"></a><h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<br> + +<p>But if in the morning he were strong, Kitty was more beautiful than +ever, and they walked out in the sunlight. They walked out on the green +sward, under the evergreen oaks where the young rooks are swinging; out +on the mundane swards into the pleasure ground; a rosery and a rockery; +the pleasure ground divided from the park by iron railings, the park +encircled by the rich elms, the elms shutting out the view of the lofty +downs.</p> + +<p>The meadows are yellow with buttercups, and the birds fly out of the +gold. And the golden note is prolonged through the pleasure grounds by +the pale yellow of the laburnums, by the great yellow of the berberis, +by the cadmium yellow of the gorse, by the golden wallflowers growing +amid rhododendrons and laurels.</p> + +<p>And the transparent greenery of the limes shivers, and the young rooks +swinging on the branches caw feebly.</p> + +<p>And about the rockery there are purple bunches of lilac, and the striped +awning of the tennis seat touches with red the paleness of the English +spring.</p> + +<p>Pansies, pale yellow pansies!</p> + +<p>The sun glinting on the foliage of the elms spreads a napery of vivid +green, and the trunks come out black upon the cloth of gold, and the +larks fly out of the gold, and the sky is a single sapphire, and two +white clouds are floating. It is May time.</p> + +<p>They walked toward the tennis seat with its red striped awning. They +listened to the feeble cawing of young rooks swinging on the branches. +They watched the larks nestle in, and fly out of the gold. It was May +time, and the air was bright with buds and summer bees. She was dressed +in white, and the shadow of the straw hat fell across her eyes when she +raised her face. He was dressed in black, and the clerical frock coat +buttoned by one button at the throat fell straight.</p> + +<p>They sat under the red striped awning of the tennis seat. The large +grasping hands holding the polished cane contrasted with the reedy +translucent hands laid upon the white folds. The low sweet breath of the +May time breathed within them, and their hearts were light; hers was +conscious only of the May time, but his was awake with unconscious love, +and he yielded to her, to the perfume of the garden, to the absorbing +sweetness of the moment. He was no longer John Norton. His being was +part of the May time; it had gone forth and had mingled with the colour +of the fields and sky; with the life of the flowers, with all vague +scents and sounds; with the joy of the birds that flew out of and +nestled with amorous wings in the gold. Enraptured and in complete +forgetfulness of his vows, he looked at her, he felt his being +quickening, and the dark dawn of a late nubility radiated into manhood.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful the day is," he said, speaking slowly. "Is it not all +light and colour, and you in your white dress with the sunlight on your +hair seem more blossom-like than any flower. I wonder what flower I +should compare you to.... Shall I say a rose? No, not a rose, nor a +lily, nor a violet; you remind me rather of a tall delicate pale +carnation...."</p> + +<p>"Why, John, I never heard you speak like that before; I thought you +never paid compliments."</p> + +<p>The transparent green of the limes shivers, the young rooks caw feebly, +and the birds nestle with amorous wings in the blossoming gold. Kitty +has taken off her straw hat, the sunlight caresses the delicate +plenitudes of the bent neck, the delicate plenitudes bound with white +cambric, cambric swelling gently over the bosom into the narrow circle +of the waist, cambric fluted to the little wrist, reedy translucid +hands; cambric falling outwards and flowing like a great white flower +over the green sward, over the mauve stocking, and the little shoe set +firmly. The ear is as a rose leaf, a fluff of light hair trembles on the +curving nape, and the head is crowned with thick brown gold. "O to bathe +my face in those perfumed waves! O to kiss with a deep kiss the hollow +of that cool neck!..." The thought came he know not whence nor how, as +lightning falls from a clear sky, as desert horsemen come with a glitter +of spears out of the cloud; there is a shock, a passing anguish, and +they are gone.</p> + +<p>He left her. So frightened was he at this sudden and singular obsession +of his spiritual nature by a lower and grosser nature, whose existence +in himself was till now unsuspected, and of whose life and wants in +others he had felt, and still felt, so much scorn, that in the tumult of +his loathing he could not gain the calm of mind necessary for an +examination of conscience. He could not look into his mind with any +present hope of obtaining a truthful reply to the very eminent and vital +question, how far his will had participated in that burning but wholly +inexcusable desire by which he had been so shockingly assailed.</p> + +<p>That inner life, so strangely personal and pure, and of which he was so +proud, seemed to him now to be befouled, and all its mystery and inner +grace, and the perfect possession which was his sanctuary, lost to him +for ever. For he could never quite forget the defiling thought; it would +always remain with him, and the consciousness of the stain would +preclude all possibility of that refining happiness, that attribute of +cleanliness, which he now knew had long been his. In his anger and +self-loathing his rage turned against Kitty. It was always the same +story—the charm and ideality of man's life always soiled by woman's +influence; so it was in the beginning, so it shall be....</p> + +<p>He stopped before the injustice of the accusation; he remembered her +candour and her gracious innocence, and he was sorry; and he remembered +her youth and her beauty, and he let his thoughts dwell upon her. +Turning over his papers he came across the old monk's song to David:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Surge meo domno dulces fac, fistula versus:</p> +<p>David amat versus, surge fac fistula versus,</p> +<p>David amat vates vatorum est gloria David...."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The verses seemed meaningless and tame, but they awoke vague impulses in +him, and, his mind filled by a dim dream of King David and Bathsheba, he +opened his Bible and turned over the pages, reading a phrase here and +there until he had passed from story and psalm to the Song of songs, and +was finally stopped by—"I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye +find my beloved, that ye tell him that I am sick of love."</p> + +<p>He laid the book down and leaned back in his chair, and holding his +temple with one hand (this was his favourite attitude) he looked in the +fire fixedly. He was ravaged by emotion. The magical fervour of the +words he had just read had revealed to him the depth of his passion.</p> + +<p>But he would tear the temptation out of his heart. The conduct of his +life had been long ago determined upon. He had known the truth as if by +instinct from the first; no life was possible except an ascetic life, at +least for him. And in this hour of weakness he summoned to his aid all +his ancient ideals: the solemnity and twilight of the arches, the +massive Gregorian chant which seems to be at once their voice and their +soul, the cloud of incense melting upon the mitres and sunsets, and the +boys' treble hovering over an ocean of harmony. But although the picture +of his future life rose at his invocation it did not move him as +heretofore, nor did the scenes he evoked of conjugal grossness and +platitude shock him to the extent he had expected. The moral rebellion +he succeeded in exciting was tepid, heartless, and ineffective, and he +was not moved by hate or fear until he remembered that God in His +infinite goodness had placed him for ever out of the temptation which he +so earnestly sought to escape from. Kitty was a Protestant. In a pang +of despair, windows and organ collapsed like cardboard; incense and +arches vanished, and then rose again with the light of a more gracious +vision upon them. For if the dignity and desire of mere self-salvation +had departed, all the lighter colours and livelier joys of the +conversion of others filled the sky of faith with morning tones and +harmonies. And then?... Salvation before all things, he answered in his +enthusiasm;—something of the missionary spirit of old time was upon +him, and forgetful of his aisles, his arches, his Latin authors, he went +down stairs and asked Kitty to play a game of billiards.</p> + +<p>"We play billiards here on Sunday, but you would think it wrong to do +so."</p> + +<p>"But to-day is not Sunday."</p> + +<p>"No, I was only speaking in a general way. Yet I often wonder how you +can feel satisfied with the protection your Church affords you against +the miseries and trials of the world. A Protestant, you know, may +believe pretty nearly as little or as much as he likes, whereas in our +church everything is defined; we know what we must believe to be saved. +There is a sense of security in the Catholic Church which the Protestant +has not."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? That is because you do not know our Church," replied +Kitty, who was a little astonished at this sudden outburst. "I feel +quite happy and safe. I know that our Lord Jesus Christ died on the +Cross to save us, and we have the Bible to guide us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the Bible without the interpretation of the Church is ... may +lead to error. For instance..."</p> + +<p>John stopped abruptly. Seized with a sudden scruple of conscience he +asked himself if he, in his own house, had a right to strive to +undermine the faith of the daughter of his own friend.</p> + +<p>"Go on," cried Kitty, laughing, "I know the Bible better than you, and +if I break down I will ask father." And as if to emphasise her +intention, she hit her ball which was close under the cushion as hard as +she could.</p> + +<p>John hailed the rent in the cloth as a deliverance, for in the +discussion as to how it could be repaired, the religious question was +forgotten.</p> + +<p>But if he were her lover, if she were going to be his wife, he would +have the right to offer her every facility and encouragement to enter +the Catholic Church—the true faith. Darkness passes, and the birds are +carolling the sun, flowers and trees are pranked with ærial jewellery, +the fragrance of the warm earth flows in your veins, your eyes are fain +of the light above and your heart of the light within. He would not jar +his happiness by the presence of Mrs Norton, even Kitty's presence was +too actual a joy to be home. She drew him out of himself too completely, +interrupted the exquisite sense of personal enchantment which seemed to +permeate and flow through him with the sweetness of health returning to +a convalescent on a spring day. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts +came and went like soft light and shade in a garden close; his happiness +was a part of himself, as fragrance is inherent in the summer time. The +evil of the last days had fallen from him, and the reaction was +equivalently violent. Nor was he conscious of the formal resignation he +was now making of his dream, nor did he think of the distasteful load of +marital duties with which he was going to burden himself; all was lost +in the vision of beautiful companionship, a sort of heavenly journeying, +a bright earthly way with flowers and starlight—he a little in advance +pointing, she following, with her eyes lifted to the celestial gates +shining in the distance. Sometimes his arms would be thrown about her. +Sometimes he would press a kiss upon her face. She was his, his, and he +was her saviour. The evening died, the room darkened, and John's dream +continued in the twilight, and the ringing of the dinner bell and the +disturbance of dressing did not destroy his thoughts. Like fumes of +wine they hung about him during the evening, and from time to time he +looked at Kitty.</p> + +<p>But although he had so far surrendered himself, he did not escape +without another revulsion of feeling. A sudden realisation of what his +life would be under the new conditions did not fail to frighten him, and +he looked back with passionate regret on his abandoned dreams. But his +nature was changed, abstention he knew was beyond his strength, and +after many struggles, each of which was feebler than the last, he +determined to propose to Kitty on the first suitable occasion.</p> + +<p>Then came the fear of refusal. Often he was paralysed with pain, +sometimes he would morbidly allow his thoughts to dwell on the moment +when he would hear her say, it was impossible, that she did not and +could not love him. The young grey light of the eyes would be fixed upon +him; she would speak her sorrow, and her thin hands would hang by her +side in the simple attitude that was so peculiar to her. And he mused +willingly on the long meek life of grief that would then await him. He +would belong to God; his friar's frock would hide all; it would be the +habitation, and the Gothic walls he would raise, the sepulchre of his +love....</p> + +<p>"But no, no, she shall be mine," he cried out, moved in his very +entrails. Why should she refuse him? What reason had he to believe that +she would not have him? He thought of how she had answered his questions +on this and that occasion, how she had looked at him; he recalled every +gesture and every movement with wonderful precision, and then he lapsed +into a passionate consideration of the general attitude of mind she +evinced towards him. He arrived at no conclusion, but these meditations +were full of penetrating delight. Sometimes he was afflicted with an +intense shyness, and he avoided her; and when Mrs Norton, divining his +trouble, sent them to walk in the garden, his heart warmed to his +mother, and he regretted his past harshness.</p> + +<p>And this idyll was lived about the beautiful Italian house, with its +urns and pilasters; through the beautiful English park, with its elms +now with the splendour of summer upon them; in the pleasure grounds with +their rosary, and the fountain where the rose leaves float, and the +wood-pigeons come at eventide to drink; in the greenhouse with its live +glare of geraniums, where the great yellow cat, so soft and beautiful, +springs on Kitty's shoulder, rounds its back, and purring, insists on +caresses; in the large clean stables where the horses munch the corn +lazily, and look round with round inquiring eyes, and the rooks croak +and flutter, and strut about Kitty's feet. It was Kitty; yes, it was +Kitty everywhere; even the blackbird darting through the laurels seemed +to cry Kitty.</p> + +<p>To propose! Time, place, and the words he should use had been carefully +considered. After each deliberation, a new decision had been taken: but +when he came to the point, John found himself unable to speak any one of +the different versions he had prepared. Still he was very happy. The +days were full of sunshine and Kitty, and he mistook her +light-heartedness for affection. He had begun to look upon her as his +certain wife, although no words had been spoken that would suggest such +a possibility. Outside of his imagination nothing was changed; he stood +in exactly the same relation to her as he had done when he returned from +Stanton College, determined to build a Gothic monastery upon the ruins +of Thornby Place, and yet somehow he found it difficult to realise that +this was so.</p> + +<p>One morning he said, as they went into the garden, "You must sometimes +feel a little lonely here ... when I am away ... all alone here with +mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no! we have lots to do. I look after the pets in the morning. I +feed the cats and the rooks, and I see that the canaries have fresh +water and seed. And then the bees take up a lot of our time. We have +twenty-two hives. Mrs Norton says she ought to make five pounds a year +on each. Sometimes we lose a swarm or two, and then Mrs Norton is so +cross. We were out for hours with the gardener the other day, but we +could do no good; we could not get them out of that elm tree. You see +that long branch leaning right over the wall; well it was on that branch +that they settled, and no ladder was tall enough to reach them; and when +Bill climbed the tree and shook them out they flew right away."</p> + +<p>"Shall I, shall I propose to her now?" thought John. But Kitty continued +talking, and it was difficult to interrupt her. The gravel grated under +their feet; the rooks were flying about the elms. At the end of the +garden there was a circle of fig trees. A silent place, and John vowed +he would say the word there. But as they approached his courage died +within him, and he was obliged to defer his vows until they reached the +green-house.</p> + +<p>"So your time is fully occupied here."</p> + +<p>"And in the afternoon we go out for drives; we pay visits. You never +pay visits; you never go and call on your neighbours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes I do; I went the other day to see your father."</p> + +<p>"Ah yes, but that is only because he talks to you about Latin authors."</p> + +<p>"No, I assure you it isn't. Once I have finished my book I shall never +look at them again."</p> + +<p>"Well, what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Next winter I intend to go in for hunting. I have told a dealer to look +out for a couple of nice horses for me."</p> + +<p>Kitty looked up, her grey eyes wide open. If John had told her that he +had given the order for a couple of crocodiles she could not have been +more surprised.</p> + +<p>"But hunting is over now; it won't begin again till next November. You +will have to play lawn tennis this summer."</p> + +<p>"I have sent to London for a racquet and shoes, and a suit of flannels."</p> + +<p>"Goodness me.... Well, that is a surprise! But you won't want the +flannels; you might play in the Carmelite's habit which came down the +other day. How you do change your mind about things!"</p> + +<p>"Do you never change your mind, Kitty?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know, but not so suddenly as you. Then you are not going +to become a monk?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, it depends on circumstances."</p> + +<p>"What circumstances?" said Kitty, innocently.</p> + +<p>The words "<i>whether you will or will not have me</i>" rose to John's lips, +but all power to speak them seemed to desert him; he had grown suddenly +as weak as melting snow, and in an instant the occasion had passed. He +hated himself for his weakness. The weary burden of his love lay still +upon him, and the torture of utterance still menaced him from afar. The +conversation had fallen. They were approaching the greenhouse, and the +cats ran to meet their patron. Sammy sprang on Kitty's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't he a beauty? stroke him, do."</p> + +<p>John passed his hand along the beautiful yellow fur. Sammy rubbed his +head against his mistress' face, her raised eyes were as full of light +as the pale sky, and the rich brown head and the thin hands made a +picture in the exquisite clarity of the English morning,—in the +homeliness of the English garden, with tall hollyhocks, espalier apple +trees, and one labourer digging amid the cabbages. Joy crystal as the +morning itself illumined John's mind for a moment, and then faded, and +he was left lonely with the remembrance that his fate had still to be +decided, that it still hung in the scale.</p> + +<p>One evening as they were walking in the park, shadowy in the twilight of +an approaching storm, Kitty said:</p> + +<p>"I never would have believed, John, that you could care to go out for a +walk with me."</p> + +<p>"And why, Kitty?"</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed—her short sudden laugh was strange and sweet. John's +heart was beating. "Well," she said, without the faintest hesitation or +shyness, "we always thought you hated girls. I know I used to tease you, +when you came home for the first time; when you used to think of nothing +but the Latin authors."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed again.</p> + +<p>"You promise not to tell?"</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>This was their first confidence.</p> + +<p>"You told your mother when I came, when you were sitting by the fire +reading, that the flutter of my skirts disturbed you."</p> + +<p>"No, Kitty, I'm sure you never disturbed me, or at least not for a long +time. I wish my mother would not repeat conversations, it is most +unfair."</p> + +<p>"Mind you, you promised not to repeat what I have told you. If you do, +you will get me into an awful scrape."</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>The conversation came to a pause. Presently Kitty said, "But you seem to +have got over your dislike to girls. I saw you talking a long while with +Miss Orme the other day; and at the Meet you seemed to admire her. She +was the prettiest girl we had here."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed she wasn't!"</p> + +<p>"Who was, then?"</p> + +<p>"You were."</p> + +<p>Kitty looked up; and there was so much astonishment in her face that +John in a sudden access of fear said, "We had better make haste, the +storm is coming on; we shall get wet through."</p> + +<p>They ran towards the house. John reproached himself bitterly, but he +made no further attempt to screw his courage up to the point of +proposing. His disappointment was followed by doubts. Was his +powerlessness a sign from God that he was abandoning his true vocation +for a false one? and a little shaken, he attempted to interest himself +in the re-building of his house; but the project had grown impossible to +him, and he felt he could not embrace it again, with any of the old +enthusiasm at least, until he had been refused by Kitty. There were +moments when he almost yearned to hear her say that she could never love +him. But in his love and religious suffering the thought of bringing a +soul home to the true fold remained a fixed light; he often looked to it +with happy eyes, and then if he were alone he fell on his knees and +prayed. Prayer like an opiate calmed his querulous spirit, and having +told his beads—the great beads which hung on his prie-dieu—he would go +down stairs with peace in his heart, and finding Kitty, he would ask her +to walk with him in the garden, or they would stroll out on the tennis +lawn, racquet in hand.</p> + +<p>One afternoon it was decided that they should go for a long walk. John +suggested that they should climb to the top of Toddington Mount, and +view the immense plain which stretches away in dim blue vapour and a +thousand fields.</p> + +<p>You see John and Kitty as they cross the wide park towards the vista in +the circling elms,—she swinging her parasol, he carrying stiffly his +grave canonical cane. He still wears the long black coat buttoned at the +throat, but the air of hieratic dignity is now replaced by, or rather it +is glossed with, the ordinary passion of life. Both are like children, +infinitely amused by the colour of the grass and sky, by the hurry of +the startled rabbit, by the prospect of the long walk; and they taste +already the wild charm of the downs, seeing and hearing in imagination +its many sights and sounds, the wild heather, the yellow savage gorse, +the solitary winding flock, the tinkling of the bell-wether, the +cliff-like sides, the crowns of trees, the mighty distance spread out +like a sea below them with its faint and constantly dissolving horizon +of the Epsom Hills.</p> + +<p>"I never can cross this plain, Kitty, without thinking of the Dover +cliffs as seen in mid Channel; this is a mere inland imitation of them."</p> + +<p>"I have never seen the Dover cliffs; I have never been out of England, +but the Brighton cliffs give me an idea of what you mean."</p> + +<p>"On your side—the Shoreham side—the downs rise in a gently sloping +ascent from the sea."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we often walk up there. You can see Brighton and Southwick and +Worthing. Oh! it is beautiful! I often go for a walk there with my +friends, the Austen girls—you saw them here at the Meet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr Austen has a very nice property; it extends right into the town +of Shoreham, does it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and right up to Toddington Mount, where we are going. But aren't +you a little tired, John? These roads are very steep."</p> + +<p>"Out of breath, Kitty; let's stop for a minute or two." The country lay +below them. They had walked three miles, and Thornby Place and its elms +were now vague in the blue evening. "We must see one of these days if we +cannot do the whole distance."</p> + +<p>"What? right across the downs from Shoreham to Henfield?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is not more than eight miles; you don't think you could manage +it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, it is more than eight miles, and walking on the downs is +not like walking on the highroad. Father thinks nothing of it."</p> + +<p>"We must really try it."</p> + +<p>"What would you do if I were to get so tired that I could not go back or +forward?"</p> + +<p>"I would carry you."</p> + +<p>They continued their climb. Speaking of the Devil's Dyke, Kitty said—</p> + +<p>"What! you mean to say you never heard the legend? You, a Sussex man!"</p> + +<p>"I have lived very little in Sussex, and I used to hate the place; I am +only just beginning to like it."</p> + +<p>"And you don't like the Jesuits any more, because they go in for +matchmaking."</p> + +<p>"They are too sly for me, I confess; I don't approve of priests meddling +in family affairs. But tell me the legend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how steep these roads are. At last, at last. Now let's try and find +a place where we can sit down. The grass is full of that horrid prickly +gorse."</p> + +<p>"Here's a nice soft place; there is no gorse here. Now tell me the +legend."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" said Kitty, sitting herself on the spot that had been +chosen for her, "you do astonish me. You never heard of the legend of St +Cuthman."</p> + +<p>"No, do tell it to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I scarcely know how to tell it in ordinary words, for I learnt it +in poetry."</p> + +<p>"In poetry! In whose poetry?"</p> + +<p>"Evy Austen put it into poetry, the eldest of the girls, and they made +me recite it at the harvest supper."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's awfully jolly—I never should have thought she was so +clever. Evy is the dark-haired one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Evy is awfully clever; but she doesn't talk much about it."</p> + +<p>"Do recite it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I can remember it all. You won't laugh if I break +down."</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>THE LEGEND OF ST CUTHMAN.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"St Cuthman stood on a point which crowns</p> +<p>The entire range of the grand South Downs;</p> +<p>Beneath his feet, like a giant field,</p> +<p>Was stretched the expanse of the Sussex Weald.</p> +<p>'Suppose,' said the Saint,''twas the will of Heaven</p> +<p>To cause this range of hills to be riven,</p> +<p>And what were the use of prayers and whinings,</p> +<p>Were the sea to flood the village of Poynings:</p> +<p>'Twould be fine, no doubt, these Downs to level,</p> +<p>But to do such a thing I defy the Devil!'</p> +<p>St Cuthman, tho' saint, was a human creature,</p> +<p>And his eye, a bland and benevolent feature,</p> +<p>Remarked the approach of the close of day,</p> +<p>And he thought of his supper, and turned away.</p> +<p class="i2">Walking fast, he</p> +<p>Had scarcely passed the</p> +<p>First steps of his way, when he saw something nasty;</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas tall and big,</p> +<p class="i2">And he saw from its rig</p> +<p>'Twas the Devil in full diabolical fig.</p> +<p class="i2">There were wanting no proofs,</p> +<p class="i2">For the horns and the hoofs</p> +<p>And the tail were a fully convincing sight;</p> +<p class="i2">But the heart of the Saint</p> +<p class="i2">Ne'er once turned faint,</p> +<p>And his halo shone with redoubled light.</p> +<p class="i2">'Hallo, I fear</p> +<p class="i2">You're trespassing here!'</p> +<p>Said St Cuthman, 'To me it is perfectly clear,</p> +<p>If you talk of the devil, he's sure to appear!'</p> +<p class="i2">'With my spade and my pick</p> +<p class="i2">I am come,' said old Nick,</p> +<p>'To prove you've no power o'er a demon like me.</p> +<p class="i2">I'll show you my power—</p> +<p class="i2">Ere the first morning hour</p> +<p>Thro' the Downs, over Poynings, shall roll in the sea.'</p> +<p class="i2">'I'll give you long odds,'</p> +<p class="i2">Cried the Saint, 'by the gods!</p> +<p>I'll stake what you please, only say what your wish is.'</p> +<p class="i2">Said the devil, 'By Jove!</p> +<p class="i2">You're a sporting old cove!</p> +<p class="i2">My pick to your soul,</p> +<p class="i2">I'll make such a hole,</p> +<p>That where Poynings now stands, shall be swimming the fishes.'</p> +<p class="i2">'Done!' cried the Saint, 'but I must away</p> +<p class="i4">I have a penitent to confess;</p> +<p class="i2">In an hour I'll come to see fair play—</p> +<p class="i4">In truth I cannot return in less.</p> +<p>My bet will be won ere the first bright ray</p> +<p>Heralds the ascension of the day.</p> +<p>If I lose!—there will be <i>the devil to pay!</i>'</p> +<p>He descended the hill with a firm quick stride,</p> +<p>Till he reached a cell which stood on the side;</p> +<p>He knocked at the door, and it opened wide,—</p> +<p>He murmured a blessing and walked inside.</p> +<p>Before him he saw a tear-stained face</p> +<p>Of an elderly maiden of elderly grace;</p> +<p>Who, when she beheld him, turned deadly pale,</p> +<p>And drew o'er her features a nun's black veil.</p> +<p>'Holy father!' she said, 'I have one sin more,</p> +<p>Which I should have confessed sixty years before!</p> +<p>I have broken my vows—'tis a terrible crime!</p> +<p>I have loved <i>you</i>, oh father, for all that time!</p> +<p>My passion I cannot subdue, tho' I try!</p> +<p>Shrive me, oh father! and let me die!'</p> +<p>'Alas, my daughter,' replied the Saint,</p> +<p>'One's desire is ever to do what one mayn't,</p> +<p>There was once a time when I loved you, too,</p> +<p>I have conquered my passion, and why shouldn't you?</p> +<p class="i2">For penance I say,</p> +<p class="i2">You must kneel and pray</p> +<p>For hours which will number seven;</p> +<p class="i2">Fifty times say the rosary,</p> +<p class="i2">(Fifty, 'twill be a poser, eh?)</p> +<p>But by it you'll enter heaven;</p> +<p class="i2">As each hour doth pass,</p> +<p class="i2">Turn the hour glass,</p> +<p>Till the time of midnight's near;</p> +<p class="i2">On the stroke of midnight</p> +<p class="i2">This taper light,</p> +<p>Your conscience will then be clear.'</p> +<p>He left the cell, and he walked until</p> +<p>He joined Old Nick on the top of the hill.</p> +<p>It was five o'clock, and the setting sun</p> +<p>Showed the work of the Devil already begun.</p> +<p>St Cuthman was rather fatigued by his walk,</p> +<p>And caring but little for brimstone talk,</p> +<p>He watched the pick crash through layers of chalk.</p> +<p>And huge blocks went over and splitting asunder</p> +<p>Broke o'er the Weald like the crashing of thunder.</p> +<p>St Cuthman wished the first hour would pass,</p> +<p>When St Ursula, praying, reversed the glass.</p> +<p>'Ye legions of hell!' the Old Gentleman cried,</p> +<p>'I have such a terrible stitch in the side!'</p> +<p>'Don't work so hard,' said the Saint, 'only see,</p> +<p>The sides of your dyke a heap smoother might be.'</p> +<p>'Just so,' said the Devil, 'I've had a sharp fit,</p> +<p>So, resting, I'll trim up my crevice a bit.'</p> +<p>St Cuthman was looking prodigiously sly,</p> +<p>He knew that the hours were slipping by.</p> +<p class="i2">'Another attack!</p> +<p class="i2">I've cramp at my back!</p> +<p class="i2">I've needles and pins</p> +<p class="i2">From my hair to my shins!</p> +<p class="i2">I tremble and quail</p> +<p class="i2">From my horns to my tail!</p> +<p>I will not be vanquished, I'll work, I say,</p> +<p>This dyke shall be finished ere break of day!'</p> +<p>'If you win your bet, 'twill be fairly earned,'</p> +<p>Said the Saint, and again was the hour-glass turned.</p> +<p>And then with a most unearthly din</p> +<p>The farther end of the dyke fell in;</p> +<p>But in spite of an awful rheumatic pain</p> +<p>The Devil began his work again.</p> +<p>'I'll not be vanquished!' exclaimed the old bloke.</p> +<p>'By breathing torrents of flame and smoke,</p> +<p>Your dyke,' said the Saint, 'is hindered each minute,</p> +<p>What can one expect when the Devil is in it?'</p> +<p>Then an accident happened, which caused Nick at last</p> +<p>To rage, fume, and swear; when the fourth hour had passed,</p> +<p>On his hoof there came rolling a huge mass of quartz.</p> +<p class="i2">Then quite out of sorts</p> +<p class="i2">The bad tempered old cove</p> +<p>Sent the huge mass of stone whizzing over to Hove.</p> +<p>He worked on again, till a howl and a cry</p> +<p>Told the Saint one more hour—the fifth—had gone by.</p> +<p>'What's the row?' asked the Saint, 'A cramp in the wrist,</p> +<p>I think for a while I had better desist.'</p> +<p>Having rested a bit he worked at his chasm,</p> +<p>Till, the hour having passed, he was seized with a spasm.</p> +<p class="i2">He raged and he cursed,</p> +<p class="i2">'I bore this at first,</p> +<p>The rheumatics were awful, but this is the worst.'</p> +<p class="i2">With awful rage heated,</p> +<p class="i2">The demon defeated,</p> +<p>In his passion used words that can't be repeated.</p> +<p class="i2">Feeling shaken and queer,</p> +<p class="i2">In spite of his fear,</p> +<p>At the dyke he worked on until midnight drew near.</p> +<p>But when the glass turned for the last time, he found</p> +<p>That the head of his pick was stuck fast in the ground.</p> +<p>'Cease now!' cried St Cuthman, 'vain is your toil!</p> +<p>Come forth from the dyke! Leave your pick in the soil!</p> +<p>You agreed to work 'tween sunset and morn,</p> +<p>And lo! the glimmer of day is born!</p> +<p class="i2">In vain was your fag,</p> +<p class="i2">And your senseless brag.'</p> +<p>Dizzy and dazed with sulphureous vapour,</p> +<p>Old Nick was deceived by St Ursula's taper.</p> +<p>'The dawn!' yelled the Devil, 'in vain was my boast,</p> +<p>That I'd have your soul, for I've lost it, I've lost!'</p> +<p>'Away!' cried St Cuthman, 'Foul fiend! away!</p> +<p>See yonder approaches the dawn of day!</p> +<p>Return to the flames where you were before,</p> +<p>And molest these peaceful South Downs no more!'</p> +<p>The old gentleman scowled but dared not stay,</p> +<p>And the prints of his hoofs remain to this day,</p> +<p>Where he spread his dark pinions and soared away.</p> +<p class="i2">At St Ursula's cell</p> +<p class="i2">Was tolling the bell,</p> +<p>And St Cuthman in sorrow, stood there by her side.</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas over at last,</p> +<p class="i2">Her sorrows were past,</p> +<p>In the moment of triumph St Ursula died.</p> +<p class="i2">Tho' this was the ground,</p> +<p class="i2">There never were found</p> +<p>The tools of the Devil, his spade and his pick;</p> +<p class="i2">But if you want proof</p> +<p class="i2">Of the Legend, the hoof-</p> +<p class="i2">Marks are still in the hillock last trod by Old Nick."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Oh! that is jolly. Well, I never thought the girl was clever enough to +write that. And there are some excellent rhymes in it, 'passed he' +rhyming with 'nasty,' and 'rosary' with 'poser, eh;' and how well you +recite it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I recited it better at the harvest supper; and you have no idea how +the farmers enjoyed it. They know the place so well, and it interested +them on that account. They understood it all."</p> + +<p>John sat as if enchanted,—by Kitty's almost childish grace, her +enthusiasm for her friend's poem, and her genuine enjoyment of it; by +the abrupt hills, mysterious now in sunset and legend; by the vast +plains so blue and so boundless: out of the thought of the littleness +of life, of which they were a symbol, there came the thought of the +greatness of love.</p> + +<p>"Won't you cross the poor gipsy's palm with a bit of silver, my pretty +gentleman, and she will tell you your fortune and that of your pretty +lady?"</p> + +<p>Kitty uttered a startled cry, and turning they found themselves facing a +strong, black-eyed girl. She repeated her question.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Kitty, would you like to have your fortune told?"</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed. "It would be rather fun," she said.</p> + +<p>She did not know what was coming, and she listened to the usual story, +full by the way of references to John—of a handsome young man who would +woo her, win her, and give her happiness, children, and wealth.</p> + +<p>John threw the girl a shilling. She withdrew. They watched her passing +through the furze. The silence about them was immense. Then John spoke:</p> + +<p>"What the gipsy said is quite true; I did not dare to tell you so +before."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, John?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that I am in love with you, will you love me?"</p> + +<p>"You in love with me, John; it is quite absurd—I thought you hated +girls."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that, Kitty, say you will have me; make the gipsy's words +come true."</p> + +<p>"Gipsies' words always come true."</p> + +<p>"Then you will marry me?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought about marriage. When do you want me to marry you? I am +only seventeen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! when you like, later on, only say you will be mine, that you will +be mistress of Thornby Place one day, that is all I want."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't want to pull the house down any more."</p> + +<p>"No, no; a thousand times no! Say you will be my wife one of these +days."</p> + +<p>"Very well then, one of these days...." "And I may tell my mother of +your promise to-night?... It will make her so happy."</p> + +<p>"Of course you may tell her, John, but I don't think she will believe +it."</p> + +<p>"Why should she not believe it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Kitty, laughing, "but how funny, was it not, that +the gipsy girl should guess right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was indeed. I wanted to tell you before, but I hadn't the +courage; and I might never have found the courage if it had not been for +that gipsy."</p> + +<p>In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely +sensible of the importance of the promise she had given. And in silence +he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever +in his mind. Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, +and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard. +Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in +darkness that was almost night.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry we cannot see the house—your house," said John as they +descended the chalk road.</p> + +<p>"It seems so funny to hear you say that, John."</p> + +<p>"Why? It will be your house some day."</p> + +<p>"But supposing your Church will not let you marry me, what then...."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger of that; a dispensation can always be obtained. But +who knows.... You have never considered the question.... You know +nothing of our Church; if you did, you might become a convert. I wish +you would consider the question. It is so simple; we surrender our own +wretched understanding, and are content to accept the Church as wiser +than we. Once man throws off restraint there is no happiness, there is +only misery. One step leads to another; if he would be logical he must +go on, and before long, for the descent is very rapid indeed, he finds +himself in an abyss of darkness and doubt, a terrible abyss indeed, +where nothing exists, and life has lost all meaning. The Reformation was +the thin end of the wedge, it was the first denial of authority, and you +see what it has led to—modern scepticism and modern pessimism."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it means, but I heard Mrs Norton say you were a +pessimist."</p> + +<p>"I was; but I saw in time where it was leading me, and I crushed it out. +I used to be a Republican too, but I saw what liberty meant, and what +were its results, and I gave it up."</p> + +<p>"So you gave up all your ideas for Catholicism...."</p> + +<p>John hesitated, he seemed a little startled, but he answered, "I would +give up anything for my Church..."</p> + +<p>"What! Me?"</p> + +<p>"That is not required."</p> + +<p>"And did it cost you much to give up your ideas?"</p> + +<p>John raised his eyes—it was a look that Balzac would have understood +and would have known how to interpret in some admirable pages of human +suffering. "None will ever know how I have suffered," he said sadly. +"But now I am happy, oh! so happy, and my happiness would be complete +if.... Oh! if God would grant you grace to believe...."</p> + +<p>"But I do believe. I believe in our Lord Christ who died to save us. Is +not that enough?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a><h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Like Juggernaut's car, Catholicism had passed over John's mind, crushing +all individualism, and leaving it but a wreck of quaking mysticism. +Twenty times a day the spectre of his conscience rose and with menacing +finger threatened him with flames and demons. And his love was a source +of continual suffering. How often did he ask himself if he were +surrendering his true vocation? How often did he beg of God to guide him +aright? But these mental agitations were visible to no one. He preserved +his calm exterior and the keenest eye detected in him only an ordinary +young man with more than usually strict business habits. He had +appointments with his solicitor. He consulted with him, he went into +complex calculations concerning necessary repairs, and he laid plans for +the more advantageous letting of the farms.</p> + +<p>His mother encouraged him to attend to his business. Her head was full +of other matters. A dispensation had to be obtained; it was said that +the Pope was more than ever opposed to mixed marriages. But no objection +would be made to this one. It would be madness to object.... A rich +Catholic family at Henfield—nearly four thousand a-year—must not be +allowed to become extinct. Thornby Place was the link between the Duke +of Norfolk and the So and So's. If those dreadful cousins came in for +the property, Protestantism would again be established at Thornby Place. +And what a pity that would be; and just at a time when Catholicism was +beginning to make headway in Sussex. And if John did not marry now he +would never marry; of that she was quite sure.</p> + +<p>As may be imagined, these were not the arguments with which Mrs Norton +sought to convince the Rev. William Hare; they were those with which she +besieged the Brompton Oratory, Farm Street, and the Pro-Cathedral. She +played one off against the other. The Jesuits were nettled at having +lost him, but it was agreeable to learn that the Carmelites had been no +less unfortunate than they. The Oratorians on the whole thought he was +not in their "line"; and as their chance of securing him was remote, +they agreed that John would prove more useful to the Church as a married +man than as a priest. A few weeks later the Papal sanction was obtained.</p> + +<p>The clause concerning the children affected Mr Hare deeply, but he was +told that he must not stand in the way of the happiness of two young +people. He considered the question from many points of view, but in the +meantime Mrs Norton continued to deluge Kitty with presents, and to talk +to everybody of her son's marriage. The parson's difficulties were +thereby increased, and eventually he found he could not withhold his +consent.</p> + +<p>And as time went on, John seemed to take a more personal delight in +life than he had done before. He forgot his ancient prejudices if not +his ancient ideals, and, as was characteristic of him, he avoided +thinking with any definiteness on the nature of the new life into which +he was to enter soon. His neighbours declared he was very much improved; +and there were dinner parties at Thornby Place. One of his great +pleasures was to start early in the morning, and having spent a long day +with Kitty, to return home across the downs. The lofty, lonely +landscape, with its lengthy hills defined upon the flushes of July, came +in happy contrast with the noisy hours of tennis and girls; and standing +on the gently ascending slopes, rising almost from the wicket gate of +the rectory, he would wave farewells to Kitty and the Austins. And in +the glittering morning, grey and dewy, when he descended these slopes to +the strip of land that lies between them and the sea, he would pause on +the last verge where the barn stands. Squire Austin's woods are in +front, and they stretch by the town to the sleepy river with its +spiderlike bridge crossing the sandy marshes. The church spire and roofs +show through each break in the elm trees, and higher still the horizon +of the sea is shimmering.</p> + +<p>The rectory is rich brown brick and tiles. About it there is an ample +farmyard. Mr Hare has but the house and an adjoining field, the three +great ricks are Mr Austin's; the sunlight is upon them, and through the +long shadows the cart horses are moving with the drays; and now a +hundred pigeons rise and are seen against the green velvet of the elms, +and one bird's wings are white upon the white sea.</p> + +<p>Mr Hare is sitting in the verandah smoking, Kitty is attending to her +birds.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, John," she cried, "but I can't shake hands with you, my +hands are dirty. Do you talk to father, I haven't a moment. There is +such a lot to do. You know the Miss Austins are coming here to early +dinner, and we have two young men coming from Worthing to play tennis. +The court isn't marked yet."</p> + +<p>"I will help you to mark it."</p> + +<p>"Very well, but I am not ready yet."</p> + +<p>John lit a cigar, and he spoke of books to Mr Hare, whom he considered a +gross Philistine, although a worthy man. The shadows of the Virginia +creeper fell on the red pavement, and Kitty's light voice was heard on +the staircase. Presently she appeared, and lifting the trailing foliage, +she spoke to him. She took him away, and the parson watched the white +lines being marked on the sward. He watched them walk by the iron +railing that separated Little Leywood from Leywood, the Squire's house. +They passed through a small wooden gate into a bit of thick wood, and so +gained the drive. Mr Austin took John to see the horses, Kitty ran to +see the girls who were in their room dressing. How they chattered as +they came down stairs, and with what lightness and laughter they went to +Little Leywood. Their interests were centred in John, and Kitty took +the foremost place as an engaged girl. After dinner young men arrived, +and tennis was played unceasingly. At six o'clock, tired and hot with +air and exercise, all went in to tea—a high tea. At seven John said he +must be thinking of getting home; and happy and glad with all the +pleasant influences of the day upon them, Kitty and the Miss Austins +accompanied him as far as the farm gate.</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful walk you will have, Mr Norton; but aren't you tired? +Seven miles in the morning and seven in the evening!"</p> + +<p>"But I have had the whole day to rest in."</p> + +<p>"What a lovely evening! Let's all walk a little way with him," said +Kitty.</p> + +<p>"I should like to," said the elder Miss Austin, "but we promised father +to be home for dinner. The one sure way of getting into his black books +is to keep his dinner waiting, and he wouldn't dine without us."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye, dear," said Kitty, "I shall walk as far as the burgh."</p> + +<p>The Miss Austins turned into the rich trees that encircle Leywood, Kitty +and John faced the hill. They were soon silhouettes, and ascending, they +stood, tiny specks upon the pink evening hours. The table-land swept +about them in multitudinous waves; it was silent and solitary as the +sea. Lancing College, some miles distant, stood lonely as a lighthouse, +and beneath it the Ada flowed white and sluggish through the marshes, +the long spine of the skeleton bridge was black, and there, by that low +shore, the sea was full of mist, and sea and shore and sky were lost in +opal and grey. Old Shoreham, with its air of commerce, of stagnant +commerce, stood by the sea. The tide was out, the sea gates were dry, +only a few pools flashed silver amid the ooze; and the masts of the tall +vessels,—tall vessels aground in that strange canal or rather dyke +which runs parallel with and within a few yards of the sea for so many +miles,—tapered and leaned out over the sea banks, and the points of the +top masts could be counted. Then on the left hand towards Brighton, the +sea streamed with purple, it was striped with green, and it hung like a +blue veil behind the rich trees of Leywood and Little Leywood, and the +trees and the fields were full of golden rays.</p> + +<p>The lovers stood on a grassy plain; sheep were travelling over the great +expanses of the valleys; rooks were flying about. Looking over the plain +you saw Southwick,—a gleam of gables, a gleam of walls,—skirting a +plantation; and further away still, Brighton lay like a pile of rocks +heaped about a low shore.</p> + +<p>To the lovers life was now as an assortment of simple but beautiful +flowers; and they passed the blossoms to and fro and bound them into a +bouquet. They talked of the Miss Austins, of their flirtations, of the +Rectory, of Thornby Place, of Italy, for there they were going next +month on their honeymoon. The turnip and corn lands were as +inconceivable widths of green and yellow satin rolling through the rich +light of the crests into the richer shadow of the valleys. And there +there was a farm-house surrounded by buildings, surrounded by trees,—it +looked like a nest in its snug hollow; the smoke ascended blue and +peacefully. It was the last habitation. Beyond it the downs extend, in +almost illimitable ranges ascending to the wild golden gorse, to the +purple heather.</p> + +<p>We are on the burgh. The hills tumble this way and that; below is the +great weald of Sussex, blue with vapour, spotted with gold fields, level +as a landscape by Hobbema; Chanctonbury Ring stands up like a gaunt +watcher; its crown of trees is pressed upon its brow, a dark and +imperial crown.</p> + +<p>Overhead the sky is full of dark grey clouds; through them the sun +breaks and sheds silver dust over the landscape; in the passing gleams +the green of the furze grows vivid. If you listen you hear the tinkling +of the bell-wether; if you look you see a solitary rabbit. A stunted +hawthorn stands by the circle of stone, and by it the lovers were +sitting. He was talking to her of Italy, of cathedrals and statues, for +although he now loves her as a man should love, he still saw his +honeymoon in a haze of Botticellis, cardinals, and chants. They stood up +and bid each other good-bye, and waving hands they parted.</p> + +<p>Night was coming on apace, a long way lay still before him, and he +walked hastily; she being nearer home, sauntered leisurely, swinging her +parasol. The sweetness of the evening was in her blood and brain, and +the architectural beauty of the landscape—the elliptical arches of the +hills—swam before her. But she had not walked many minutes before a +tramp, like a rabbit out of a bush, sprang out of the furze where he had +been sleeping. He was a gaunt hulking fellow, six feet high.</p> + +<p>"Now 'aven't you a copper or two for a poor fellow, Missie?"</p> + +<p>Kitty started from him frightened. "No, I haven't, I have nothing ... go +away."</p> + +<p>He laughed hoarsely, she ran from him. "Now, don't run so fast, Missie, +won't you give a poor fellow something?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you 'ave; what about those pretty lips?"</p> + +<p>A few strides brought him again to her side. He laid his hand upon her +arm. She broke her parasol across his face, he laughed hoarsely. She saw +his savage beast-like eyes fixed hungrily upon her. She fainted for fear +of his look of dull tigerish cruelty. She fell....</p> + +<p>When shaken and stunned and terrified she rose from the ground, she saw +the tall gaunt figure passing away like a shadow. The wild solitary +landscape was pale and dim. In the fading light it was a drawing made on +blue paper with a hard pencil. The long undulating lines were defined +on the dead sky, the girdle of blue encircling sea was an image of +eternity. All now was the past, there did not seem to be a present. Her +mind was rocked to and fro, and on its surface words and phrases floated +like sea weed.... To throw her down and ill-treat her. Her frock is +spoilt; they will ask her where she has been to, and how she got herself +into such a state. Mechanically she brushed herself, and mechanically, +very mechanically she picked bits of furze from her dress. She held each +away from her and let it drop in a silly vacant way, all the while +running the phrases over in her mind: "What a horrible man ... he threw me +down and ill-treated me; my frock is ruined, utterly ruined, what a +state it is in! I had a narrow escape of being murdered. I will tell +them that ... that will explain ... I had a narrow escape of being +murdered." But presently she grew conscious that these thoughts were +fictitious thoughts, and that there was a thought, a real thought, +lying in the background of her mind, which she dared not face, which she +could not think of, for she did not think as she desired to; her +thoughts came and went at their own wild will, they flitted lightly, +touching with their wings but ever avoiding this deep and formless +thought which lay in darkness, almost undiscoverable, like a monster in +a nightmare.</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, she staggered, her sight seemed to fail her. There +was a darkness in the summer evening which she could not account for; +the ground seemed to slide beneath her feet, the landscape seemed to be +in motion and to be rolling in great waves towards the sea. Would it +precipitate itself into the sea, and would she be engulphed in the +universal ruin? O! the sea, how implacably serene, how remorselessly +beautiful; green along the shore, purple along the horizon! But the land +was rolling to it. By Lancing College it broke seaward in a soft lapsing +tide, in front of her it rose in angry billows; and Leywood hill, +green, and grand, and voluted, stood up a great green wave against the +waveless sea.</p> + +<p>"What a horrible man ... he attacked me, ill-treated me ... what for?" Her +thoughts turned aside. "He should be put in prison.... If father knew +it, or John knew it, he would be put in prison, and for a very long +time.... Why did he attack me?... Perhaps to rob me; yes, to rob me, of +course to rob me." The evening seemed to brighten, the tumultuous +landscape to grow still, To rob her, and of what?... of her watch; where +was it? It was gone. The happiness of a dying saint when he opens arms +to heaven descended upon her. The watch was gone ... but, had she lost it? +Should she go back and see if she could find it? Oh! impossible; see the +place again—impossible! search among the gorse—impossible! Horror! She +would die. O to die on the lonely hills, to lie stark and cold beneath +the stars! But no, she would not be found upon these hills. She would +die and be seen no more. O to die, to sink in that beautiful sea, so +still, so calm, so calm—why would it not take her to its bosom and hide +her away? She would go to it, but she could not get to it; there were +thousands of men between her and it.... An icy shiver passed through +her.</p> + +<p>Then as her thoughts broke away, she thought of how she had escaped +being murdered. How thankful she ought to be—but somehow she is not +thankful. And she was above all things conscious of a horror of +returning, of returning to where she would see men and women's faces... +men's faces. And now with her eyes fixed on the world that awaited her, +she stood on the hillside. There was Brighton far away, sparkling in the +dying light; nearer, Southwick showed amid woods, winding about the foot +of the hills; in front Shoreham rose out of the massy trees of Leywood, +the trees slanted down to the lawn and foliage and walls, made spots of +white and dark green upon a background of blue sea; further to the +right there was a sluggish silver river, the spine of the skeleton +bridge, a spur of Lancing hill, and then mist, pale mist, pale grey +mist.</p> + +<p>"I cannot go home", thought the girl, and acting in direct contradiction +to her thoughts, she walked forward. Her parasol—where was it? It was +broken. The sheep, how sweet and quiet they looked, and the clover, how +deliciously it smelt.... This is Mr Austin's farm, and how well kept it +is. There is the barn. And Evy and Mary, when would they be married? Not +so soon as she, she was going to be married in a month. In a month. She +repeated the words over to herself; she strove to collect her thoughts, +and failing to do so, she walked on hurriedly, she almost ran as if in +the motion to force out of sight the thoughts that for a moment +threatened to define themselves in her mind. Suddenly she stopped; there +were some children playing by the farm gate. They did not know that she +was by, and she listened to their childish prattle unsuspected. To +listen was an infinite assuagement, one that was overpoweringly sweet, +and for some moments she almost forgot. But she woke from her ecstacy in +deadly fear and great pain, for coming along the hedgerow the voice of a +man was heard, and the children ran away. And she ran too, like a +terrified fawn, trembling in every limb, and sick with fear she sped +across the meadows. The front door was open; she heard her father +calling. To see him she felt would be more than she could bear; she must +hide from his sight for ever, and dashing upstairs she double locked her +door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<br> + +<p>The sky was still flushed, there was light upon the sea, but the room +was dim and quiet. The room! Kitty had seen it under all aspects, she +had lived in it many years: then why does she look with strained eyes? +Why does she shrink? Nothing has been changed. There is her little +narrow bed, and her little bookcase full of novels and prayer-books; +there is her work-basket by the fireplace, by the fireplace closed in +with curtains that she herself embroidered; above her pillow there is a +crucifix; there are photographs of the Miss Austins, and pictures of +pretty children cut from the Christmas Numbers on the walls. She starts +at the sight of these familiar objects! She trembles in the room which +she thought of as a haven of refuge. Why does she grasp the rail of the +bed—why? She scarcely knows: something that is at once remembrance and +suspicion fills her mind. Is this her room?</p> + +<p>The thought ended. She walked hurriedly to and fro, and as she passed +the fuchsia in the window a blossom fell.</p> + +<p>She sat down and stared into dark space. She walked languidly and +purposelessly to the wardrobe. She stopped to pick a petal from the +carpet. The sound of the last door was over, the retiring footfall had +died away in the distance, the last voice was hushed; the moon was +shining on the sea. A lovely scene, silver and blue; but how the girl's +heart was beating! She sighed.</p> + +<p>She sighed as if she had forgotten, and approaching her bedside she +raised her hands to her neck. It was the instinctive movement of +undressing. Her hands dropped, she did not even unbutton her collar. She +could not. She resumed her walk, she picked up a blossom that had +fallen, she looked out on the pale white sea. There was moonlight now in +the room, a ghastly white spot was on the pillow. She was tired. The +moonlight called her. She lay down with her profile in the light.</p> + +<p>But there were smell and features in the glare—the odour was that of +the tramp's skin, the features—a long thin nose, pressed lips, small +eyes, a look of dull liquorish cruelty. And this presence was beside +her; she could not rid herself of it, she repulsed it with cries, but it +came again, and mocking, lay on the pillow.</p> + +<p>Horrible, too horrible! She sprang from the bed. Was there anyone in her +room? How still it was! The mysterious moonlight, the sea white as a +shroud, the sward so chill and death-like. What! Did it move? Was it he? +That fearsome shadow! Was she safe? Had they forgotten to bar up the +house? Her father's house! Horrible, too horrible, she must shut out +this treacherous light—darkness were better....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>The curtains are closed, but a ray glinting between the wall and curtain +shows her face convulsed. Something follows her: she knows not what, her +thoughts are monstrous and obtuse. She dares not look round, she would +turn to see if her pursuer is gaining upon her, but some invincible +power restrains her.... Agony! Her feet catch in, and she falls over +great leaves. She falls into the clefts of ruined tombs, and her hands +as she attempts to rise are laid on sleeping snakes—rattlesnakes: they +turn to attack her, and they glide away and disappear in moss and +inscriptions. O, the calm horror of this region! Before her the trees +extend in complex colonnades, silent ruins are grown through with giant +roots, and about the mysterious entrances of the crypts there lingers +yet the odour of ancient sacrifices. The stem of a rare column rises +amid the branches, the fragment of an arch hangs over and is supported +by a dismantled tree trunk. Ages ago the leaves fell, and withered; ages +ago; and now the skeleton arms, lifted in fantastic frenzy against the +desert skies, are as weird and symbolic as the hieroglyphics on the +tombs below.</p> + +<p>And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard.</p> + +<p>Flowers hang on every side,—flowers as strange and as gorgeous as +Byzantine chalices; flowers narrow and fluted and transparent as long +Venetian glasses; opaque flowers bulging and coloured with gold devices +like Chinese vases, flowers striped with cinnamon and veined with azure; +a million flower-cups and flower chalices, and in these as in censers +strange and deadly perfumes are melting, and the heavy fumes descend +upon the girl, and they mix with the polluting odour of the ancient +sacrifices. She sinks, her arms are raised like those of a victim; she +sinks overcome, done to death or worse in some horrible asphyxiation.</p> + +<p>And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. His claws are upon the crumbling tombs.</p> + +<p>The suffocating girl utters a thin wail. The vulture pauses, and is +stationary on the white and desert skies. She strives with her last +strength to free herself from the thrall of the great lianas, and she +falls into fresh meshes.... The claws are heard amid the ruins, there is +a hirsute smell; she turns with terrified eyes to plead, but she meets +only the dull liquorish eyes, and the breath of the obscene animal is on +her face.</p> + +<p>Then she finds herself in the pleasure grounds of Thornby Place. There +are the evergreen oaks, there is the rosary flaring all its wealth of +red, purple, and white flowers, there is the park encircled by elms, +there is the vista filled in with the line of the lofty downs. For a +moment she is surprised, and fails to understand. Then she forgets the +change of place in new sensations of terror. For across the park +something is coming, she knows not what; it will pass her by. She +watches a brown and yellow serpent, cubits high. Cubits high. It rears +aloft its tawny hide, scenting its prey. The great coiling body, the +small head, small as a man's hand, the black beadlike eyes shine out +upon the intoxicating blue of the sky. The narrow long head, the fixed +black eyes are dull, inexorable desire, conscious of nothing beyond, and +only dimly conscious of itself. Will the snake pass by the hiding girl? +She rushes to meet it. What folly! She turns and flies.</p> + +<p>She takes refuge in the rosary. It follows her, gathering its immense +body into horrible and hideous heights. How will she save herself? She +will pluck roses, and build a wall between her and it. She collects huge +bouquets, armfuls of beautiful flowers, garlands and wreaths. The +flower-wall rises, and hoping to combat the fury of the beast with +purity, she goes to where beautiful and snowy blossoms grow in +clustering millions. She gathers them in haste; her arms and hands are +streaming with blood, but she pays no heed, and as the snake surmounts +one barricade, she builds another. But in vain. The reptile leans over +them all, and the sour dirty smell of the scaly hide befouls the odorous +breath of the roses. The long thin neck is upon her; she feels the +horrid strength of the coils as they curl and slip about her, drawing +her whole life into one knotted and loathsome embrace. And all the while +the roses fall in a red and white rain about her. And through the ruin +of the roses she escapes from the stench and the coils, and all the +while the snake pursues her even into the fountain. The waves and the +snake close about her.</p> + +<p>Then without any transition in place or time, she finds herself +listening to the sound of rippling water. There is an iron drinking cup +close to her hand. She seems to recognise the spot. It is Shoreham. +There are the streets she knows so well, the masts of the vessels, the +downs. But suddenly something darkens the sunlight, the tawny body of +the snake oscillates, the people cry to her to escape. She flies along +the streets, like the wind she seems to pass. She calls for help. +Sometimes the crowds are stationary as if frozen into stone, sometimes +they follow the snake and attack it with sticks and knives. One man with +colossal shoulders wields a great sabre; it flashes about him like +lightning. Will he kill it? He turns and chases a dog, and disappears. +The people too have disappeared. She is flying now along a wild plain +covered with coarse grass and wild poppies. When she glances behind her +she sees the outline of the little coast town, the snake is near her, +and there is no one to whom she can call for help. But the sea is in +front of her, bound like a blue sash about the cliff's edge. She will +escape down the rocks—there is still a chance! The descent is sheer, +but somehow she retains foothold. Then the snake drops, she feels his +weight upon her, and both fall, fall, fall, and the sea is below +them....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>With a shriek she sprang from the bed, and still under the influence of +the dream, rushed to the window. The moon hung over the sea, the sea +flowed with silver, the world was as chill as an icicle.</p> + +<p>"The roses, the snake, the cliff's edge, was it then only a dream?" the +girl thought. "It was only a dream, a terrible dream, but after all only +a dream!" In her hope breathes again, and she smiles like one who thinks +he is going to hear that he will not die, but as the old pain returns +when the last portion of the deceptive sentence is spoken, so despair +came back to her when remembrance pierced the cloud of hallucination, +and told her that all was not a dream—there was something that was +worse than a dream.</p> + +<p>She uttered a low cry, and she moaned. Centuries seemed to have passed, +and yet the evil deed remained. It was still night, but what would the +day bring to her? There was no hope. Abstract hope from life, and what +blank agony you create!</p> + +<p>She drew herself up on her bed, and lay with her face buried in the +pillow. For the face was beside her: the foul smell was in her nostrils, +and the dull, liquorish look of the eyes shone through the darkness. +Then sleep came again, and she lay stark and straight as if she were +dead, with the light of the moon upon her face. And she sees herself +dead. And all her friends are about her crowning her with flowers, +beautiful garlands of white roses, and dressing her in a long white +robe, white as the snowiest cloud in heaven, and it lies in long +straight plaits about her limbs like the robes of those who lie in +marble in cathedral aisles. And it falls over her feet, and her hands +are crossed over her breast, and all praise in low but ardent words the +excessive whiteness of the garment. For none sees but she that there is +a black spot upon the robe which they believe to be immaculate. And she +would warn them of their error, but she cannot; and when they avert +their faces to wipe away their tears, the stain might be easily seen, +but when they turn to continue the last offices, folds or flowers have +mysteriously fallen over the stain, and hide it from view.</p> + +<p>And it is great pain to her to feel herself thus unable to tell them of +their error, for she well knows that when she is placed in the tomb, and +the angels come, that they will not fail to perceive the stain, and +seeing it they will not fail to be shocked and sorrowful,—and seeing it +they will turn away weeping, saying, "She is not for us, alas, she is +not for us!"</p> + +<p>And Kitty, who is conscious of this fatal oversight, the results of +which she so clearly foresees, is grievously afflicted, and she makes +every effort to warn her friends of their error: but in vain, for there +appears to be one amid the mourners who knows that she is endeavouring +to announce to them the black stain, and this one whose face she cannot +readily distinguish, maliciously and with diabolical ingenuity withdraws +attention at the moment when it should fall upon it.</p> + +<p>And so it comes that she is buried in the stained robe, and she is +carried amid flowers and white cloths to a white marble tomb, where +incense is burning, and where the walls are hung with votive wreaths and +things commemorative of virginal life and its many lovelinesses. But, +strange to say, upon all these, upon the flowers and images alike there +is some small stain which none sees but she and the one in shadow, the +one whose face she cannot recognise. And although she is nailed fast in +her coffin, she sees these stains vividly, and the one whose face she +cannot recognise sees them too. And this is certain, for the shadow of +the face is sometimes stirred by a horrible laugh.</p> + +<p>The mourners go, the evening falls, and the wild sunset floats for a +while through the western Heavens; and the cemetery becomes a deep +green, and in the wind that blows out of Heaven, the cypresses rock like +things sad and mute.</p> + +<p>And the blue night comes with stars in her tresses, and out of those +stars a legion of angels float softly; their white feet hang out of the +blown folds, their wings are pointed to the stars. And from out of the +earth, out of the mist, but whence and how it is impossible to say, +there come other angels dark of hue and foul smelling. But the white +angels carry swords, and they wave these swords, and the scene is +reflected in them as in a mirror; and the dark angels cower in a corner +of the cemetery, but they do not utterly retire.</p> + +<p>And then the tomb is opened, and the white angels enter the tomb. And +the coffin is opened, and the girl trembles lest the angels should +discover the stain she knew of. But lo! to her great joy they do not see +it, and they bear her away through the blue night, past the sacred +stars, even within the glory of Paradise. And it is not until one whose +face she cannot recognize, and whose presence among the angels of +Heaven she cannot comprehend, steals away one of the garlands of white +with which she was entwined, that the fatal stain becomes visible. The +angels are overcome with a mighty sorrow, and relinquishing their +burden, they break into song, and the song they sing is one of grief; +and above an accompaniment of spheral music it travels through the +spaces of Heaven; and she listens to its wailing echoes as she falls, +falls,—falls past the sacred stars to the darkness of terrestrial +skies,—falls towards the sea where the dark angels are waiting for her; +and as she falls she leans with reverted neck and strives to see their +faces, and as she nears them she distinguishes one into whose arms she +is going; it is, it is—the...</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>"Save me, save me!" she cried; and bewildered and dazed with the dream, +she stared on the room, now chill with summer dawn; the pale light broke +over the Shoreham sea, over the lordly downs and rich plantations of +Leywood. Again she murmured, it was only a dream, it was only a dream; +again a sort of presentiment of happiness spread like light through her +mind, and again remembrance came with its cruel truths—there was +something that was not a dream, but that was worse than the dream. And +then with despair in her heart she sat watching the cold sky turn to +blue, the delicate bright blue of morning, and the garden grow into +yellow and purple and red. There lay the sea, joyous and sparkling in +the light of the mounting sun, and the masts of the vessels at anchor in +the long water way. The tapering masts were faint on the shiny sky, and +now between them and about them a face seemed to be. Sometimes it was +fixed on one, sometimes it flashed like a will o' the wisp, and appeared +a little to the right or left of where she had last seen it. It was the +face that was now buried in her very soul, and sometimes it passed out +of the sky into the morning mist, which still heaved about the edges of +the woods; and there she saw something grovelling, crouching, +crawling,—a wild beast, or was it a man?</p> + +<p>She did not weep, nor did she moan. She sat thinking. She dwelt on the +remembrance of the hills and the tramp with strange persistency, and yet +no more now than before did she attempt to come to conclusions with her +thought; it was vague, she would not define it; she brooded over it +sullenly and obtusely. Sometimes her thoughts slipped away from it, but +with each returning, a fresh stage was marked in the progress of her +nervous despair.</p> + +<p>So the hours went by. At eight o'clock the maid knocked at the door. +Kitty opened it mechanically, and she fell into the woman's arms, +weeping and sobbing passionately. The sight of the female face brought +infinite relief; it interrupted the jarred and strained sense of the +horrible; the secret affinities of sex quickened within her. The woman's +presence filled Kitty with the feelings that the harmlessness of a lamb +or a soft bird inspires.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<br> + +<p>"But what is it, Miss, what is it? Are you ill? Why, Miss, you haven't +taken your things off; you haven't been to bed."</p> + +<p>"No, I lay down.... I have had frightful dreams—that is all."</p> + +<p>"But you must be ill, Miss; you look dreadful, Miss. Shall I tell Mr +Hare? Perhaps the doctor had better be sent for."</p> + +<p>"No, no; pray say nothing about me. Tell my father that I did not sleep, +that I am going to lie down for a little while, that he is not to expect +me down for breakfast."</p> + +<p>"I really think, Miss, that it would be as well for you to see the +doctor."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no. I am going to lie down, and I am not to be disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Shall I fill the bath, Miss? Shall I leave hot water here, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"Bath.... Hot water...." Kitty repeated the words over as if she were +striving to grasp a meaning which was suggested, but which eluded her. +Then her face relaxed, the expression was one of pitiful despair, and +that expression gave way to a sense of nausea, expressed by a quick +contraction of the eyes.</p> + +<p>She listened to the splashing of the water, and its echoes were repeated +indefinably through her soul.</p> + +<p>The maid left the room. Kitty's attention was attracted to her dress. It +was torn, it was muddy, there were bits of furze sticking to it. She +picked these off, and slowly she commenced settling it: but as she did +so, remembrance, accurate and simple recollection of facts, returned to +her, and the succession was so complete that the effect was equivalent +to a re-enduring of the crime, and with a foreknowledge of it, as if to +sharpen its horror and increase the sense of the pollution. The lovely +hills, the engirdling sea, the sweet glow of evening—she saw it all +again. And as if afraid that her brain, now strained like a body on the +rack, would suddenly snap, she threw up her arms, and began to take off +her dress, as violently as if she would hush thought in abrupt +movements. In a moment she was in stays and petticoat. The delicate and +almost girlish arms were disfigured by great bruises. Great black and +blue stains were spreading through the skin.</p> + +<p>Kitty lifted up her arm: she looked at it in surprise; then in horror +she rushed to the door where her dressing gown was hanging, and wrapped +herself in it tightly, hid herself in it so that no bit of her flesh +could be seen.</p> + +<p>She threw herself madly on the bed. She moved, pressing herself against +the mattress as if she would rub away, free herself from her loathed +self. The sight of her hand was horrible to her, and she covered it over +hurriedly.</p> + +<p>The maid came up with a tray. The trivial jingle of the cups and plates +was another suffering added to the ever increasing stress of mind, and +now each memory was accompanied by sensations of physical sickness, of +nausea.</p> + +<p>She slipped from the bed and locked the door. Again she was alone. An +hour passed.</p> + +<p>Her father came up. His footsteps on the stairs caused her intolerable +anguish. On entering the house she had hated to hear his voice, and now +that hatred was intensified a thousandfold. His voice sounded in her +ears false, ominous, abominable. She could not have opened the door to +him, and the effort required to speak a few words, to say she was tired +and wished to be left alone, was so great that it almost cost her her +reason. It was a great relief to hear him go. She asked herself why she +hated to hear his voice, but before she could answer a sudden +recollection of the tramp sprang upon her. Her nostrils recalled the +smell, and her eyes saw the long, thin nose and the dull liquorish eyes +beside her on the pillow.</p> + +<p>She got up and walked about the room, and its appearance contrasted +with and aggravated the fierceness of the fever of passion and horror +that raged within her. The homeliness of the teacups and the plates, the +tin bath, painted yellow and white, so grotesque and so trim.</p> + +<p>But not its water nor even the waves of the great sea would wash away +remembrance. She pressed her face against the pane. The wide sea, so +peaceful, so serene! Oblivion, oblivion, O for the waters of oblivion!</p> + +<p>Then for an hour she almost forgot; sometimes she listened, and the +shrill singing of the canary was mixed with thoughts of her dead +brothers and sisters, of her mother. She was waked from her reveries by +the farm bell ringing the labourers' dinner hour.</p> + +<p>Night had been fearsome with darkness and dreams, but the genial +sunlight and the continuous externality of the daytime acted on her +mind, and turned vague thoughts, as it were, into sentences, printed in +clear type. She often thought she was dead, and she favoured this idea, +but she was never wholly dead. She was a lost soul wandering on those +desolate hills, the gloom descending, and Brighton and Southwick and +Shoreham and Worthing gleaming along the sea banks of a purple sea. +There were phantoms—there were two phantoms. One turned to reality, and +she walked by her lover's side, talking of Italy. Then he disappeared, +and she shrank from the horrible tramp; then both men grew confused in +her mind, and in despair she threw herself on her bed. Raising her eyes +she caught sight of her prayer-book, but she turned from it moaning, for +her misery was too deep for prayer.</p> + +<p>The lunch bell rang. She listened to the footsteps on the staircase; she +begged to be excused, and she refused to open the door.</p> + +<p>The day grew into afternoon. She awoke from a dreamless sleep of about +an hour, and still under its soothing influence, she pinned up her +hair, settled the ribbons of her dressing gown, and went downstairs. She +found her father and John in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, here is Kitty!" they exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But what is the matter, dear? Why are you not dressed?" said Mr Hare. +"But what is the matter.... Are you ill?" said John, and he extended his +hand.</p> + +<p>"No, no, 'tis nothing," she replied, and avoiding the outstretched hand +with a shudder, she took the seat furthest away from her father and +lover.</p> + +<p>They looked at her in amazement, and she at them in fear and trembling. +She was conscious of two very distinct sensations—one the result of +reason, the other of madness. She was not ignorant of the causes of +each, although she was powerless to repress one in favour of the other. +Both struggled for mastery and for the moment without disturbing the +equipoise. On the side of reason she knew very well she was looking at +and talking to her dear, kind father, and that the young man sitting +next him was John Norton, the son of her dear friend, Mrs Norton; she +knew he was the young man who loved her, and whom she was going to +marry, marry, marry. On the other side she saw that her father's kind +benign countenance was not a real face, but a mask which he wore over +another face, and which, should the mask slip—and she prayed that it +might not—would prove as horrible and revolting as—</p> + +<p>But the mask John wore was as nothing, it was the veriest make believe. +And she could not but doubt now but that the face she had known him so +long by was a fictitious face, and as the hallucination strengthened, +she saw his large mild eyes grow small, and that vague dreamy look turn +to the dull liquorish look, the chin came forward, the brows contracted +... the large sinewy hands were, oh, so like! Then reason asserted +itself; the vision vanished, and she saw John Norton as she had always +seen him.</p> + +<p>But was she sure that she did? Yes, yes—she must not give way. But her +head seemed to be growing lighter, and she did not appear to be able to +judge things exactly as she should; a sort of new world seemed to be +slipping like a painted veil between her and the old. She must resist.</p> + +<p>John and Mr Hare looked at her.</p> + +<p>John at length rose, and advancing to her, said, "My dear Kitty, I am +afraid you are not well...."</p> + +<p>She strove to allow him to take her hand, but she could not overcome the +instinctive feeling which, against her will, caused her to shrink from +him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't come near me, I cannot bear it!" she cried, "don't come near +me, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>More than this she could not do, and giving way utterly, she shrieked +and rushed from the room. She rushed upstairs. She stood in the middle +of the floor listening to the silence, her thoughts falling about her +like shaken leaves. It was as if a thunderbolt had destroyed the world, +and left her alone in a desert. The furniture of the room, the bed, the +chairs, the books she loved, seemed to have become as grains of sand, +and she forgot all connection between them and herself. She pressed her +hands to her forehead, and strove to separate the horror that crowded +upon her. But all was now one horror—the lonely hills were in the room, +the grey sky, the green furze, the tramp; she was again fighting +furiously with him; and her lover and her father and all sense of the +world's life grew dark in the storm of madness. Suddenly she felt +something on her neck. She put her hand up...</p> + +<p>And now with madness on her face she caught up a pair of scissors and +cut off her hair: one after the other the great tresses of gold and +brown fell, until the floor was strewn with them.</p> + +<p>A step was heard on the stairs; her quick ears caught the sound, and she +rushed to the door to lock it. But she was too late. John held it fast.</p> + +<p>"Kitty, Kitty," he cried, "for God's sake, tell me what is the matter!"</p> + +<p>"Save me! save me!" she cried, and she forced the door against him with +her whole strength. He was, however, determined on questioning her, on +seeing her, and he passed his head and shoulders into the room. His +heart quailed at the face he saw.</p> + +<p>For now had gone that imperceptible something which divides the life of +the sane from that of the insane, and he who had so long feared lest a +woman might soil the elegant sanctity of his life, disappeared forever +from the mind of her whom he had learned to love, and existed to her +only as the foul dull brute who had outraged her on the hills.</p> + +<p>"Save me, save me! help, help!" she cried, retreating from him.</p> + +<p>"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? Say, say—"</p> + +<p>"Save me; oh mercy, mercy! Let me go, and I will never say I saw you, I +will not tell anything. Let me go!" she cried, retreating towards the +window.</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, Kitty, take care—the window, the window!"</p> + +<p>But Kitty heard nothing, knew nothing, was conscious of nothing but a +mad desire to escape. The window was lifted high—high above her head, +and her face distorted with fear, she stood amid the soft greenery of +the Virginia creeper.</p> + +<p>"Save me," she cried, "mercy, mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Kitty, Kitty darling!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>The white dress passed through the green leaves. John heard a dull thud.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a><h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<br> + +<p>And the pity of it! The poor white thing lying like a shot dove, +bleeding, and the dreadful blood flowing over the red tiles....</p> + +<p>Mr Hare was kneeling by his daughter when John, rushing forth, stopped +and stood aghast.</p> + +<p>"What is this? Say—speak, speak man, speak; how did this happen?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say, I do not know; she did not seem to know me; she ran away. +Oh my God, I do not understand; she seemed as if afraid of me, and she +threw herself out of the window. But she is not dead..."</p> + +<p>The word rang out in the silence, ruthlessly brutal in its significance. +Mr Hare looked up, his face a symbol of agony. "Oh, dead, how can you +speak so..."</p> + +<p>John felt his being sink and fade like a breath, and then, conscious of +nothing, he helped to lift Kitty from the tiles. But it was her father +who carried her upstairs. The blood flowed from the terrible wound in +the head. Dripped. The walls were stained. When she was laid upon the +bed, the pillow was crimson; and the maid-servant coming in, strove to +staunch the wound with towels. Kitty did not move.</p> + +<p>Both men knew there was no hope. The maid-servant retired, and she did +not close the door, nor did she ask if the doctor should be sent for. +One man held the bed rail, looking at his dead daughter; the other sat +by the window. That one was John Norton. His brain was empty, everything +was far away. He saw things moving, moving, but they were all so far +away. He could not re-knit himself with the weft of life; the thread +that had made him part of it had been snapped, and he was left +struggling in space. He knew that Kitty had thrown herself out of the +window and was dead. The word shocked him a little, but there was no +sense of realisation to meet it. She had walked with him on the hills, +she had accompanied him as far as the burgh; she had waved her hand to +him before they walked quite out of each other's sight. They had been +speaking of Italy ... of Italy where they would have spent their +honeymoon. Now she was dead! There would be no honeymoon, no wife. How +unreal, how impossible it all did seem, and yet it was real, yes, real +enough. There she lay dead; here is her room, and there is her +book-case; there are the photographs of the Miss Austins, here is the +fuchsia with the pendent blossoms falling, and her canary is singing. +John glanced at the cage, and the song went to his brain, and he was +horrified, for there was no grief in his heart.</p> + +<p>Had he not loved her? Yes, he was sure of that; then why was there no +burning grief nor any tears? He envied the hard-sobbing father's grief, +the father who, prostrate by the bedside, held his dead daughter's hand, +and showed a face wild with fear—a face on which was printed so deeply +the terror of the soul's emotion, that John felt a supernatural awe +creep upon him; felt that his presence was a sort of sacrilege. He crept +downstairs. He went into the drawing-room, and looked about for the +place he had last seen her in. There it was.... There. But his eyes +wandered from the place, for it was there he had seen the startled face, +the half mad face which he had seen afterwards at the window, quite mad.</p> + +<p>On that sofa she usually sat; how often had he seen her sitting there! +And now he would not see her any more. And only three days ago she had +been sitting in the basket chair. How well he remembered her words, her +laughter, and now ... now; was it possible he never would hear her laugh +again? How frail a thing is human life, how shadow-like; one moment it +is here, the next it is gone. Here is her work-basket; and here the very +ball of wool which he had held for her to wind; and here is a novel +which she had lent to him, and which he had forgotten to take away. He +would never read it now; or perhaps he should read it in memory of her, +of her whom yesterday he parted with on the hills,—her little puritan +look, her external girlishness, her golden brown hair and the sudden +laugh so characteristic of her.... She had lent him this book—she who +was now but clay; she who was to have been his wife. His wife! The +thought struck him. Now he would never have a wife. What was there for +him to do? To turn his house into a Gothic monastery, and himself into a +monk. Very horrible and very bitter in its sheer grotesqueness was the +thought. It was as if in one moment he saw the whole of his life +summarised in a single symbol, and understood its vanity and its folly. +Ah, there was nothing for him, no wife, no life.... The tears welled up +in his eyes; the shock which in its suddenness had frozen his heart, +began to thaw, and grief fell like a penetrating rain.</p> + +<p>We learn to suffer as we learn to love, and it is not to-day, nor yet +to-morrow, but in weeks and months to come, and by slow degrees, that +John Norton will understand the irreparableness of his loss. There is a +man upstairs who crouches like stone by his dead daughter's side; he is +motionless and pale as the dead, he is as great in his grief as an +expression of grief by Michæl Angelo. The hours pass, he is unconscious +of them; he sees not the light dying on the sea, he hears not the +trilling of the canary. He knows of nothing but his dead child, and that +the world would be nothing to give to have her speak to him once again. +His is the humblest and the worthiest sorrow, but such sorrow cannot +affect John Norton. He has dreamed too much and reflected too much on +the meaning of life; his suffering is too original in himself, too +self-centred, and at the same time too much, based on the inherent +misery of existence, to allow him to project himself into and suffer +with any individual grief, no matter how nearly it might be allied to +him and to his personal interest. He knew his weakness in this +direction, and now he gladly welcomed the coming of grief, for indeed he +had felt not a little shocked at the aridness of his heart, and +frightened lest his eyes should remain dry even to the end.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he remembered that the Miss Austins had said that they would +call to-morrow early for Kitty, to take her to Leywood to lunch.... They +were going to have some tennis in the afternoon. He too was expected +there. They must be told what had occurred. It would be terrible if they +came calling for Kitty under her window, and she lying dead! This slight +incident in the tragedy wrung his heart, and the effort of putting the +facts upon paper brought the truth home to him, and lured and led him to +see down the lifelong range of consequences. The doctor too, he thought, +must be warned of what had happened. And with the letter telling the sad +story in his hand, and illimitable sorrow in his soul, he went out in +the evening air. It was just such an evening as yester evening—a little +softer, a little lovelier, perhaps; earth, sea, and sky appeared like an +exquisite vision upon whose lips there is fragrance, yet in whose eyes a +glow of passion still survives.</p> + +<p>The beauty of the last hour of light is upon that crescent of sea, and +the ships loll upon the long strand, the tapering masts and slacking +ropes vanish upon the pallid sky. There is the old town, dusty, and +dreamy, and brown, with neglected wharfs and quays; there is the new +town, vulgar and fresh with green paint and trees, and looking hungrily +on the broad lands of the Squire, the broad lands and the rich woods +which rise up the hill side to the barn on the limit of the downs. How +beautiful the great green woods look as they sweep up a small expanse of +the downs, like a wave over a slope of sand. And there is a house with +red gables where the girls are still on the tennis lawn. John walked +through the town; he told the doctor he must go at once to the rectory. +He walked to Leywood and left his letter with the lodge-keeper; and +then, as if led by a strange fascination, he passed through the farm +gate and set out to return home across the hills.</p> + +<p>"She was here with me yesterday; how beautiful she looked, and how +graceful were her laughter and speech," he said, turning suddenly and +looking down on the landscape; on the massy trees contrasting with the +walls of the town, the spine-like bridge crossing the marshy shore, the +sails of the mill turning over the crest of the hill. The night was +falling fast, as a blue veil it hung down over the sea, but the deep +pure sky seemed in one spot to grow clear, and suddenly the pale moon +shone and shimmered upon the sea. The landscape gained in loveliness, +the sheep seemed like phantoms, the solitary barns like monsters of the +night. And the hills were like giants sleeping, and the long outlines +were prolonged far away into the depths and mistiness of space. Turning +again and looking through a vista in the hills, John could see Brighton, +a pale cloud of fire, set by the moon-illumined sea, and nearer was +Southwick, grown into separate lines of light, that wandered into and +lost themselves among the outlying hollows of the hills; and below him +and in front of him Shoreham lay, a blaze of living fire, a thousand +lights; lights everywhere save in one gloomy spot, and there John knew +that his beloved was lying dead. And further away, past the shadowy +marshy shores, was Worthing, the palest of nebulæ in these earthly +constellations; and overhead the stars of heaven shone as if in pitiless +disdain. The blown hawthorn bush that stands by the burgh leaned out, a +ship sailed slowly across the rays of the moon. Yesterday they parted +here in the glad golden sunlight, parted for ever, for ever.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday I had all things—a sweet wife and happy youthful days to +look forward to. To-day I have nothing; all my hopes are shattered, all +my illusions have fallen. So is it always with him who places his trust +in life. Ah, life, life, what hast thou for giving save cruel deceptions +and miserable wrongs? Ah, why did I leave my life of contemplation and +prayer to enter into that of desire.... Ah, I knew, well I knew there +was no happiness save in calm and contemplation. Ah, well I knew; and +she is gone, gone, gone!"</p> + +<p>We suffer differently indeed, but we suffer equally. The death of his +sweetheart forces one man to reflect anew on the slightness of life's +pleasures and the depth of life's griefs. In the peaceful valley of +natural instincts and affections he had slept for a while, now he awoke +on one of the high peaks lit with the rays of intense consciousness, +and he cried aloud, and withdrew in terror at a too vivid realisation of +self. The other man wept for the daughter that had gone out of his life, +wept for her pretty face and cheerful laughter, wept for her love, wept +for the years he would live without her. We know which sorrow is the +manliest, which appeals to our sympathy, but who can measure the depth +of John Norton's suffering? It was as vast as the night, cold as the +stream of moonlit sea.</p> + +<p>He did not arrive home till late, and having told his mother what had +happened, he instantly retired to his room. Dreams followed him. The +hills were in his dreams. There were enemies there; he was often pursued +by savages, and he often saw Kitty captured; nor could he ever evade +their wandering vigilance and release her. Again and again he awoke, and +remembered that she was dead.</p> + +<p>Next morning John and Mrs Norton drove to the rectory, and without +asking for Mr Hare, they went up to <i>her</i> room. The windows were open, +and Annie and Mary Austin sat by the bedside watching. The blood had +been washed out of the beautiful hair, and she lay very white and fair +amid the roses her friends had brought her. She lay as she had lain in +one of her terrible dreams—quite still, the slender body covered by a +sheet, moulding it with sculptured delight and love. From the feet the +linen curved and marked the inflections of the knees; there were long +flowing folds, low-lying like the wash of retiring water; the rounded +shoulders, the neck, the calm and bloodless face, the little nose, and +the beautiful drawing of the nostrils, the extraordinary waxen pallor, +the eyelids laid like rose leaves upon the eyes that death has closed +for ever. Within the arm, in the pale hand extended, a great Eucharis +lily had been laid, its carved blossoms bloomed in unchanging stillness, +and the whole scene was like a sad dream in the whitest marble.</p> + +<p>Candles were burning, and the soft smell of wax mixed with the perfume +of the roses. For there were roses everywhere—great snowy bouquets, and +long lines of scattered blossoms, and single roses there and here, and +petals fallen and falling were as tears shed for the beautiful dead, and +the white flowerage vied with the pallor and the immaculate stillness of +the dead.</p> + +<p>The calm chastity, the lonely loveliness, so sweetly removed from taint +of passion, struck John with all the emotion of art. He reproached +himself for having dreamed of her rather as a wife than as a sister, and +then all art and all conscience went down as a broken wreck in the wild +washing sea of deep human love: he knelt by her bedside, and sobbed +piteously, a man whose life is broken.</p> + +<p>When they next saw her she was in her coffin. It was almost full of +white blossoms—jasmine, Eucharis lilies, white roses, and in the midst +of the flowers you saw the hands folded, and the face was veiled with +some delicate filmy handkerchief.</p> + +<p>For the funeral there were crosses and wreaths of white flowers, roses +and stephanotis. And the Austin girls and their cousins who had come +from Brighton and Worthing carried loose flowers. How black and sad, how +homely and humble they seemed. Down the short drive, through the iron +gate, through the farm gate, the bearers staggering a little under the +weight of lead, the little cortège passed two by two. A broken-hearted +lover, a grief-stricken father, and a dozen sweet girls, their eyes and +cheeks streaming with tears. Kitty, their girl-friend was dead, dead, +dead! The words rang in their hearts in answer to the mournful tolling +of the bell. The little by-way along which they went, the little green +path leading over the hill, under trees shot through and through with +the whiteness of summer seas, was strewn with blossoms fallen from the +bier and the dolent fingers of the weeping girls.</p> + +<p>The old church was all in white; great lilies in vases, wreaths of +stephanotis; and, above all, roses—great garlands of white roses had +been woven, and they hung along and across. A blossom fell, a sob +sounded in the stillness; and how trivial it all seemed, and how +impotent to assuage the bitter burning of human sorrow: how paltry and +circumscribed the old grey church, with its little graveyard full of +forgotten griefs and aspirations! This hour of beautiful sorrow and +roses, how long will it be remembered? The coffin sinks out of sight, +out of sight for ever, a snow-drift of delicate bloom descending into +the earth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_X"></a><h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<br> + +<p>From the Austin girls, whose eyes followed him, from Mr Hare, from Mrs +Norton, John wandered sorrowfully away,—he wandered through the green +woods and fields into the town. He stood by the railway gates. He saw +the people coming and going in and out of the public houses; and he +watched the trains that whizzed past, and he understood nothing, not +even why the great bar of the white gate did not yield beneath the +pressure of his hands; and in the great vault of the blue sky, white +clouds melted and faded to sheeny visions of paradise, to a white form +with folded wings, and eyes whose calm was immortality....</p> + +<p>A train stopped. He took a ticket and went to Brighton. As they steamed +along a high embankment, he found himself looking into a little +suburban cemetery. The graves, the yews, the sharp church spire +touching the range of the hills. <i>Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust +to dust</i>, and the dread responsive rattle given back by the coffin lid. +He watched the group in the distant corner, and its very remoteness and +removal from his personal knowledge and concern, moved him to passionate +grief and tears....</p> + +<p>He walked through the southern sunlight of the town to the long expanse +of sea. The mundane pier is taut and trim, and gay with the clangour of +the band, the brown sails of the fishing boats wave in the translucid +greens of water; and the white field of the sheer cliff, and all the +roofs, gables, spires, balconies, and the green of the verandahs are +exquisitely indicated and elusive in the bright air; and the beach is +strange with acrobats and comic songs, nursemaids lying on the pebbles +reading novels, children with their clothes tied tightly about them +building sand castles zealously; see the lengthy crowd of +promenaders—out of its ranks two little spots of mauve come running to +meet the advancing wave, and now they fly back again, and now they come +again frolicking like butterflies, as gay and as bright.</p> + +<p>Under the impulse of his ravening grief, John watched the spectacle of +the world's forgetfulness, and the seeming obscenity horrified him even +to the limits of madness. He cried that it might pass from him. +Solitude—the solemn peace of the hills, the appealing silence of a pine +wood at even; how holy is the idea of solitude, find it where you will. +The Gothic pile, the apostles and saints of the windows, the deep +purples and crimsons, and the sunlight streaming through, and the +pathetic responses and the majesty of the organ do not take away, but +enhance and affirm the sensation of idea and God. The quiet rooms +austere with Latin and crucifix; John could see them. Fondly he allowed +these fancies to linger, but through the dream a sense of reality began +to grow, and he remembered the narrowness of the life, when viewed from +the material side, and its necessary promiscuousness, and he thought +with horror of the impossibility of the preservation of that personal +life, with all its sanctuary-like intensity, which was so dear to him. +He waved away all thought of priesthood, and walking quickly down the +pier, looking on the gay panorama of town and beach, he said, "The world +shall be my monastery." + +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11733 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..69a160d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11733 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11733) diff --git a/old/11733-8.txt b/old/11733-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..685257e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11733-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5392 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Mere Accident, by George Moore + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Mere Accident + +Author: George Moore + +Release Date: March 28, 2004 [eBook #11733] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: iso-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MERE ACCIDENT*** + + +E-text prepared by Jon Ingram, David Cavanagh, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +A MERE ACCIDENT. + +BY + +GEORGE MOORE + +AUTHOR OF "A MUMMER'S WIFE," "A MODERN LOVER," +"A DRAMA IN MUSLIN," "SPRING DAYS," ETC. + +Fifth Edition + + + + + + + +TO + +My Friends at Buckingham. + +Nearly twenty years have gone since first we met, dear friends; time has +but strengthened our early affections, so for love token, for sign of +the years, I bring you this book--these views of your beautiful house +and hills where I have spent so many happy days, these last perhaps the +happiest of all. + +G. M. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. The grasses are lush, and the hedges are tall +and luxuriant. Restless boys scramble to and fro, quiet nursemaids +loiter, and a vagrant has sat down to rest though the bank is dripping +with autumn rain. How fair a prospect of southern England! Land of +exquisite homeliness and order; land of town that is country, of country +that is town; land of a hundred classes all deftly interwoven and all +waxing to one class--England. Land encrowned with the gifts of peaceful +days--days that live in thy face and the faces of thy children. + +See it. The outlying villas with their porches and laurels, the red +tiled farm houses, and the brown barns, clustering beneath the wings of +beautiful trees--elm trees; see the flat plots of ground of the market +gardens, with figures bending over baskets of roots; see the factory +chimney; there are trees and gables everywhere; see the end of the +terrace, the gleam of glass, the flower vase, the flitting white of the +tennis players; see the long fields with the long team ploughing, see +the parish church, see the embowering woods, see the squire's house, see +everything and love it, for everything here is England. + + * * * * * + +Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road, leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. It disappears in the woods which lean across the +fields towards the downs. The great bluff heights can be seen, and at +the point where the roads cross, where the tall trunks are listed with +golden light, stands a large wooden gate and a small box-like lodge. A +lonely place in a densely-populated county. The gatekeeper is blind, and +his flute sounds doleful and strange, and the leaves are falling. + +The private road is short and stony. Apparently space was found for it +with difficulty, and it got wedged between an enormous holly hedge and a +stiff wooden paling. But overhead the great branches fight upwards +through a tortuous growth to the sky, and, as you advance, Thornby Place +continues to puzzle you with its medley of curious and contradictory +aspects. For as the second gate, which is in iron, is approached, your +thoughts of rural things are rudely scattered by sight of what seems a +London mews. Reason with yourself. This very urban feature is occasioned +by the high brick wall which runs parallel with the stables, and this, +as you pass round to the front of the house, is hidden in the clothing +foliage of a line of evergreen oaks; continuing along the lawn, the +trees bend about the house--a wash of Naples-yellow, a few sharp Italian +lines and angles. To complete the sketch, indicate the wings of the +blown rooks on the sullen sky. + +But our purpose lies deeper than that which inspires a water-colour +sketch. We must learn when and why that house was built; we must see how +the facts reconcile its somewhat tawdry, its somewhat suburban aspect, +with the richer and more romantic aspects of the park. The park is even +now, though it be the middle of autumn, full of blowing green, and the +brown circling woods, full of England and English home life. That single +tree in the foreground is a lime; what a splendour of leafage it will be +in the summer! Those four on the right are chestnuts, and those far +away, lying between us and the imperial downs, are elms; through that +vista you can see the grand line, the abrupt hollows, and the bit of +chalk road cut zig-zag out of the steep side. Then why the anomaly of +Italian urns and pilasters; why not red Elizabethan gables and diamond +casements? + +Why not? Because at the beginning of the century, when Brighton was +being built, fragments of architectural gossip were flying about Sussex, +and one of these had found its way to, and had rested in, the heart of +the grandfather of the present owner: in a simple and bucolic way he had +been seized by a desire for taste and style, and the present building +was the result. Therefore it will be well to examine in detail the house +which young John Norton of '86 was so fond of declaring he could never +see without becoming instantly conscious of a sense of dislike, a hatred +that he was fond of describing as a sort of constitutional complaint +which he was never quite free from, and which any view of the Rockery, +or the pilasters of the French bow-window, or indeed of anything +pertaining to Thornby Place, called at once into an active existence. + +Thornby Place is but two stories high, and its spruce walls of Portland +stone and ashlar work rise sheer out of the green sward; in front, Doric +columns support a heavy entablature, and there are urns at the corners +of the building. The six windows on the ground floor are topped with +round arches, and coming up the drive the house seems a perfect square. +But this regularity of structure has on the east side been somewhat +interfered with by a projection of some thirty or forty feet--a billiard +room, in fine, which during John's minority Mrs Norton had thought +proper to add. But she had lived to rue her experiment, for to this +young man, with his fretful craving for beauty and exactness of +proportion, it is an ever present source of complaint; and he had once +in a half humorous, half serious way, gone so far as to avail himself of +the "eyesore," as he called it, to excuse his constant absence from +home, and as a pretence for shutting himself up in his dear college, +with his cherished Latin authors. It was partly for the sake of avenging +himself on his mother, whose decisive practicality jarred the delicate +music of a nature extravagantly ideal, that he so severely criticised +all that she held sacred; and his strictures fell heaviest on the bow +window, looking somewhat like a temple with its small pilasters +supporting the rich cornice from which the dwarf vaulting springs. The +loggia, he admitted, although painfully out of keeping with the +surrounding country, was not wholly wanting in design, and he admired +its columns of a Doric order, and likewise the cornice that like a crown +encompasses the house. The entrance is under the loggia; there are round +arched windows on either side, a square window under the roof, and the +hall door is in solid oak studded with ornamental nails. + +On entering you find yourself in a common white-painted passage, and on +either side of the drawing-room and dining-room are four allegorical +female heads: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Further on is the +hall, with its short polished oak stairway sloping gently to a balcony; +and there are white painted pillars that support the low roof, and these +pillars make a kind of entrance to the passage which traverses the +house from end to end. England--England clear and spotless! Nowhere do +you find a trace of dust or disorder. The arrangement of things is +somewhat mechanical. The curtains and wall-paper in the bedrooms are +suggestive of trades people and housemaids; no hastily laid aside book +or shawl breaks the excessive orderliness. Every piece of furniture is +in its appointed place, and nothing testifies to the voluntariness of +the occupant, or the impulse prompted by the need of the moment. On the +presses at the ends of the passages, where is stored the house linen, +cards are hung bearing this inscription: "When washing the woodwork the +servants are requested to use no soda without first obtaining permission +from Mrs Norton." This detail was especially distasteful to John; he +often thought of it when away, and it was one of the many irritating +impressions which went to make up the sum of his dislike of Thornby +Place. + +Mrs Norton is now crying her last orders to the servants; and although +dressed elaborately as if to receive visitors, she has not yet laid +aside her basket of keys. She is in her forty-fifth year. Her figure is +square and strong, and not devoid of matronly charm. It approves a +healthy mode of life, and her quick movements are indicative of her +sharp determined mind. Her face is somewhat small for her shoulders, the +temples are narrow and high, the nose is long and thin, the cheek bones +are prominent, the chin is small, but unsuggestive of weakness, the lips +are pinched, the complexion is flushed, and the eyes set close above the +long thin nose are an icy grey. Mrs Norton is a handsome woman. Her +fashionably-cut silk fits her perfectly; the skirt is draped with grace +and precision, and the glossy shawl with the long soft fringe is elegant +and delightfully mundane. She raises her double gold eyeglasses, and, +contracting her forehead, stares pryingly about her; and so fashionable +is she, and her modernity is so picturesque, that for a moment you think +of the entrance of a duchess in the first act of a piece by Augier +played on the stage of the Français. + +Still holding her gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she descended the +broad stairs to the hall, and from thence she went into the library. +There are two small bookcases filled with sombre volumes, and the busts +of Molière and Shakespeare attempt to justify the appellation. But there +is in the character, I was almost going to say in the atmosphere of the +room, that same undefinable, easily recognizable something which +proclaims the presence of non-readers. The traces of three or four days, +at the most a week, which John occasionally spent at Thornby Place, were +necessarily ephemeral, and the weakness of Mrs Norton's sight rendered +continuous reading impossible. Sometimes Kitty Hare brought a novel from +the circulating library to read aloud, and sometimes John forgot one of +his books, and a volume of Browning still lay on the table. The room was +filled with shadow and mournfulness, and in a dusty grate the fire +smouldered. + +Between this room and the drawing-room, in a recess formed by the bow +window, Mrs Norton kept her birds, and still peering through her +gold-rimmed glasses, she examined their seed-troughs and water-glasses, +and, having satisfied herself as to their state, she entered the +drawing-room. There is little in this room; no pictures relieve the +widths of grey colourless wall paper, and the sombre oak floor is spaced +with a few pieces of furniture--heavy furniture enshrouded in grey linen +cloths. Three French cabinets, gaudy with vile veneer and bright brass, +are nailed against the walls, and the empty room is reflected dismally +in the great gold mirror which faces the vivid green of the sward and +the duller green of the encircling elms of the park. + +Mrs Norton let her eyes wander, and sighing she went into the +dining-room. The dining-room is always the most human of rooms, and the +dining-room in Thornby Place, although allied to the other rooms in an +absence of fancy in its arrangement, shows prettily in contrast to them +with its white cloth cheerful with flowers and ferns. The floor is +covered with a tightly stretched red cloth, the chairs are set in +symmetrical rows; with the exception of a black clock there is no +ornament on the chimney-piece, and a red cloth screen conceals the door +used by the servants. + +Mrs Norton walked with her quiet decisive step to the window, and +holding the gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she looked into the +landscape as if she were expecting someone to appear. The day was grimy +with clouds; mist had risen, and it hung out of the branches of the elms +like a veil of white gauze. Withdrawing her eye from the vague prospect +before her, Mrs Norton played listlessly with the tassel of one of the +blinds. "Surely," she thought, "he cannot have been foolish enough to +have walked over the downs such a day as this;" then, raising her +glasses again she looked out at the smallest angle with the wall of the +house, so that she should get sight of a vista through which any one +coming from Shoreham would have to pass. Presently a silhouette +appeared on the sullen sky. Mrs Norton moved precipitately from the +window, and she rang the bell sharply. + +"John," she said, "Mr Hare has been going in for one of his long walks. +I see him now coming across the park. I am sure he has walked over the +downs; if so he must be wet through. Have a fire lighted in Mr Norton's +room, put up a pair of slippers for him: here is the key of Mr Norton's +wardrobe; let Mr Hare have what he wants." + +And having detached one from the many bunches which filled her basket, +she went herself to open the door to her visitor. He was however still +some distance away, and standing in the shelter of the loggia she waited +for him, watched the vague silhouette resolving itself into colour and +line. But it was not until he climbed the iron fence which separated +the park from the garden grounds that the figure grew into its +individuality. Then you saw a man of about forty, about the medium +height and inclined to stoutness. His face was round and florid, and it +was set with sandy whiskers. His white necktie proclaimed him a parson, +and the grey mud with which his boots were bespattered told of his long +walk. As is generally the case with those of his profession, he spoke +fluently, his voice was melodious, and his rapid answers and his bright +eyes saved him from appearing commonplace. In addressing Mrs Norton he +used her Christian name. + +"You are quite right, Lizzie, you are quite right; I shouldn't have done +it: had I known what a state the roads were in, I wouldn't have +attempted it." + +"What is the use of talking like that, as if you didn't know what these +roads were like! For twenty years you have been making use of them, and +if you don't know what they are like in winter by this time, all I can +say is that you never will." + +"I never saw them in the state they are now; such a slush of chalk and +clay was never seen." + +"What can you expect after a month of heavy rain? You are wringing wet." + +"Yes, I was caught in a heavy shower as I was crossing over by +Fresh-Combe-bottom. I am certainly not in a fit state to come into your +dining-room." + +"I should think not indeed! I really believe if I were to allow it, +you would sit the whole afternoon in your wet clothes. You'll find +everything ready for you in John's room. I'll give you ten minutes. I'll +tell them to bring up lunch in ten minutes. Stay, will you have a glass +of wine before going upstairs?" + +"I am afraid of spoiling your carpet." + +"Yes, indeed! not one step further! I'll fetch it for you." + +When the parson had drunk the wine, and was following the butler +upstairs, Mrs Norton returned to the dining-room with the empty glass in +her hand. She placed it on the chimney piece; she stirred the fire, and +her thoughts flowed pleasantly as she dwelt on the kindness of her old +friend. "He only got my note this morning," she mused. "I wonder if he +will be able to persuade John to return home." Mrs Norton, in her own +hard, cold way, loved her son, but in truth she thought more of the +power of which he was the representative than of the man himself: the +power to take to himself a wife--a wife who would give an heir to +Thornby Place. This was to be the achievement of Mrs Norton's life, and +the difficulties that intervened were too absorbing for her to think +much whether her son would find happiness in marriage; nor was it +natural to her to set much store on the refining charm and the uniting +influences of mental sympathies. Had she not passed the age when the +sentimental emotions are liveliest? And the fibre was wanting in her to +take into much account the whispering or the silence of passion. + +Mrs Norton saw in marriage nothing but the child, and in the child +nothing but an heir--that is to say, a male who would continue the name +and traditions of Thornby Place. This would seem to indicate a material +nature, but such a misapprehension arises from the common habit of +confusing pure thought--thought which proceeds direct from the brain +and lives uncoloured by the material wants of life--with instincts whose +complexity often causes them to appear as mental potentialities, whereas +they are but instincts, inherited promptings, and aversions more or less +modified by physical constitution and the material forces of the life in +which the constitution has grown up; and yet, though pure thought, that +is to say the power of detaching oneself from the webs of life and +viewing men and things from a height, is the rarest of gifts, many are +possessed of sufficient intellectuality to enjoy with the brain apart +from the senses. Mrs Norton was such an one. After five o'clock tea she +would ask Kitty to read to her, and drawing her shawl about her +shoulders, would readily abandon the intellectual side of her nature to +the seductive charm of the romantic story of James of Scotland; and +while to the girl the heroism and chivalry were a little clouded by the +quaint turns of Rossetti's verse, to the woman these were added +delights, which her quiet penetrating understanding followed and took +instant note of. + +"Were mother and son ever so different?" was the common remark. The +artistic was the side of Mrs Norton's character that was unaffectedly +kept out of sight, just as young John Norton was careful to hide from +public knowledge his strict business habits, and to expose, perhaps a +little ostentatiously, the spiritual impulses in which he was so deeply +concerned: the subtle refinement of sacred places, from the mystery of +the great window with its mitres and croziers to the sunlit path between +the tombs where the children play, the curious and yet natural charm +that attendance in the sacristy had for him, the arrangement of the +large oak presses, wherein are stored the fine altar linen and the +chalices, the distributing of the wine and water that were not for +bodily need, and the wearing of the flowing surplices, the murmuring of +the Latin responses that helped so wonderfully to enforce the impression +of beautiful and refined life which was his, and which he lived beyond +the gross influences of the wholly temporal life which he knew was +raging almost but not quite out of hearing. But, however marked may be +the accidental variations of character, hereditary instincts are +irresistible, and in obedience to them John neglected nothing that +concerned his pecuniary instincts. He was in daily communication with +his agent, and the financial position of every farmer, and the state of +every farm on his property, were not only known to him but were +constantly borne in mind, and influenced him in that progressive +ordering of things which marked the administration of his property. He +was furnished quarterly with an account of all monies paid, to which +were joined descriptive notes of each farm, showing what alterations the +past three months had brought, and setting forth the agricultural +intentions and abilities of the occupier. + +John Norton waited the arrival of these accounts with a keen interest: +they were a relish to his life; and without experiencing any revulsion +of feeling, he would lay down a portfolio filled with photographs of +drawings by Leonardo da Vinci--studies of drapery, studies of hands and +feet, realistic studies of thin-lipped women and ecstatic angels with +the light upon their high foreheads--and cheerfully, and even with a +sense of satisfaction, he would untie the bald, prosaic roll of paper, +and seating himself at his window overlooking the long terrace, he would +add up the figures submitted to him, detecting the smallest arithmetical +error, making note of the least delay in payment of any money due, and +questioning the slightest overpayment for work done. The morning hours +fled as he pursued his congenial task; and from time to time he would +let his thoughts wander from the teasing computation of the money that +would be required to make the repairs that a certain farmer had +demanded, to the unworldly quiet of the sacristy; he would think, and +his thoughts contained an evanescent sense of the paradox, of the altar +linen he would have to fold and put away, and of the altar breads he +would presently have to write to London for; and meanwhile his eyes +would follow in delight the black figures of the Jesuits, who, with +cassocks blowing and berrettas set firmly on their heads, walked up and +down the long gravel walks reading their breviaries. + +And living thus, half in the persuasive charm of ceremonial, half in +the hard procession of account books, the last three years of John's +life had passed. On coming of age he had spent a few weeks at Thornby +Place, but the place, and especially the country, had appeared to +him so grossly protestant--so entirely occupied with the material +well-to-doness of life--that he declared he longed to breathe again the +breath of his beloved sacristy, that he must away from that close and +oppressive atmosphere of the flesh. Since then, with the exception of a +few visits of a few days he had lived at Stanton College, writing to his +mother not of the business which concerned his property, but of mental +problems and artistic impulses. On business matters he never consulted +her; but he thought it fortunate that she should choose to spend her +jointure on Thornby Place, and so save him a great deal of expense in +keeping up the house, which, although he disliked it with a dislike that +had grown inveterate, he was still unwilling to allow to fall to ruins. + +Mrs Norton, as has been said, was capable of understanding much in the +abstract; so long as things, and ideas of things, did not come within +the circle of her practical life, they were judged from a liberal +standpoint, but so soon as they touched any personal consideration, +they were judged by a moral code that in no way corresponded to her +intellectual comprehension of the matter she so unhesitatingly +condemned. But by this it must by no means be understood that Mrs Norton +wore her conscience easily--that it was a garment that could be +shortened or lengthened to suit all weathers. Our diagnosis of Mrs +Norton's character involves no accusation of laxity of principle. Mrs +Norton was a woman with an intelligence, who had inherited in all its +primary force a code of morals that had grown up in the narrower minds +of less gifted generations. In talking to her you were conscious of two +active and opposing principles: reason and hereditary morality. I use +"opposing" as being descriptive of the state of soul that would +generally follow from such mental contradiction, but in Mrs Norton no +shocking conflict of thought was possible, her mind being always +strictly subservient to her instinctive standard of right and wrong. + +And John had inherited the moral temperament of his mother's family, and +with it his mother's intelligence, nor had the equipoise been disturbed +in the transmitting; his father's delicate constitution in inflicting +germs of disease had merely determined the variation represented by the +marked artistic impulses which John presented to the normal type of +either his father's or his mother's family. It would therefore seem that +any too sudden corrective of defect will result in anomaly, and, in +the case under notice, direct mingling of perfect health with spinal +weakness had germinated into a marked yearning for the heroic ages, for +the supernatural as contrasted with the meanness of the routine of +existence. And now before closing this psychical investigation, and +picking up the thread of the story, which will of course be no more than +an experimental demonstration of the working of the brain into which we +are looking, we must take note of two curious mental traits both living +side by side, and both apparently negative of the other's existence: an +intense and ever pulsatory horror of death, a sullen contempt and often +a ferocious hatred of life. The stress of mind engendered by the +alternating of these themes of suffering would have rendered life an +unbearable burden to John, had he not found anchorage in an invincible +belief in God, a belief which set in stormily for the pomp and opulence +of Catholic ceremonial, for the solemn Gothic arch and the jewelled joy +of painted panes, for the grace and the elegance and the order of +hieratic life. + +In a being whose soul is but the shadow of yours, a second soul looking +towards the same end as your soul, or in a being whose soul differs +radically, and is concerned with other satisfactions and other ideals, +you will most probably find some part of the happiness of your dreams, +but in intercourse with one who is grossly like you, but who is +absolutely different when the upper ways of character are taken into +account, there will be--no matter how inexorable are the ties that +bind--much fret and irritation and noisy clashing. It was so with John +Norton and his mother; even in the exercise of faculties that had been +directly transmitted from one to the other there had been angry +collision. For example:--their talents for business were identical; but +while she thought the admirable conduct of her affairs was a thing to be +proud of, he would affect an air of negligence, and would willingly +have it believed that he lived independent of such gross necessities. +Then his malady--for intense depression of the spirits was a malady with +him--offered an ever-recurring cause of misunderstanding. How irritating +it was when he lay shut up in his room, his soul looking down with +murderous eyes on the poor worm that writhed out its life in view of the +pitiless stars, and longing with a fierce wild longing to shake off the +burning garment of consciousness, and plunge into the black happiness of +the grave, to hear Mrs Norton on the threshold uttering from time to +time admonitory remarks. + +"You should not give way to such feelings, sir; you should not allow +yourself to be unhappy. Look at me, am I unhappy? and I have more to +bear with than you, but I am not always thinking of myself.... I am in +fairly good health, and I am always cheerful! Why are you not the same? +You bring it all upon yourself; I have no pity for you.... You should +cease to think of yourself, and try to do your duty." + +John groaned when he heard this last word. He knew very well what his +mother meant. He should buy three hunters, he should marry. These were +the anodynes that were offered to him in and out of season. "Bad enough +that I should exist! Why precipitate another into the gulf of being?" +"Consort with men whose ideal hovers between a stable boy and a +veterinary surgeon;" and then, amused by the paradox, John, to whom the +chase was evocative of forests, pageantry, spears, would quote some +stirring verses of an old ballad, and allude to certain pictures by +Rubens, Wouvermans, and Snyders. "Why do you talk in that way?" "Why do +you seek to make yourself ridiculous?" Mrs Norton would retort. + +Smiling just a little sorrowfully, John would withdraw, and on the +following day he would leave for Stanton College. And it was thus that +Mrs Norton's temper scarred with deep wounds a nature so pale and +delicate, so exposed that it seemed as if wanting an outer skin; and as +Thornby Place appeared to him little more than a comprehensive symbol +of what he held mean, even obscene in life, his visits had grown shorter +and fewer, until now his absence extended to the verge of the second +year, and besieged by the belief that he was contemplating priesthood, +Mrs Norton had written to her old friend, saying that she wanted to +speak to him on matters of great importance. Now maturing her plans for +getting her boy back, she stood by the bare black mantel-piece, her head +leaning on her hand. She uttered an exclamation when Mr Hare entered. + +"What," she said, "you haven't changed your things, and I told you you +would find a suit of John's clothes. I must insist--" + +"My dear Lizzie, no amount of insistance would get me into a pair of +John's trousers. I am thirteen stone and a half, and he is not much over +ten." + +"Ah! I had forgotten, but what are you to do? Something must be done, +you will catch your death of cold if you remain in your wet clothes.... +You are wringing wet." + +"No, I assure you I am not. My feet were a little wet, but I have +changed my stockings and shoes. And now, tell me, Lizzie, what there is +for lunch," he said, speaking rapidly to silence Mrs Norton, whom he saw +was going to protest again. + +"Well, you know it is difficult to get much at this season of the year. +There are some chickens and some curried rabbit, but I am afraid you +will suffer for it if you remain the whole of the afternoon in those wet +clothes; I really cannot, I will not allow it." + +"My dear Lizzie, my dear Lizzie," cried the parson, laughing all over +his rosy skinned and sandy whiskered face, "I must beg of you not +to excite yourself. I have no intention of committing any of the +imprudences you anticipate. I will trouble you for a wing of that +chicken. James, I'll take a glass of sherry,... and while I am eating it +you shall explain as succinctly as possible the matter you are minded +to consult me on, and when I have mastered the subject in all its +various details, I will advise you to the best of my power, and having +done so I will start on my walk across the hills." + +"What! you mean to say you are going to walk home?... We shall have +another downpour presently." + +"Even so. I cannot come to much harm so long as I am walking, whereas if +I drove home in your carriage I might catch a chill.... It is at least +ten miles to Shoreham by the road, while across the hills it is not more +than six." + +"Six! it is eight if it is a yard!" + +"Well, perhaps it is; but tell me, I am curious to hear what you want to +talk to me about.... Something about John, is it not?" + +"Of course it is, what else have I to think about; what else concerns +middle-aged people like you and me but our children? Of course I want to +talk to you about John. Something must be done, things cannot go on as +they are. Why, it is nearly two years since he has been home. Oh, that +boy is breaking my heart, and none suspects it. If you knew how it +annoys me when the Gardiners and the Prestons congratulate me on having +a son so well behaved. They know he looks after his property sharp +enough, no drinking, no bad company, no debts. Ah! they little know.... +I would much sooner he were wild and foolish: young men get over those +kind of faults, but he will never get over his." + +Mr Hare felt these views to be of a doubtful orthodoxy, but he did not +press his opinion, and contented himself with murmuring gently that for +the moment he did not see that John's faults were of a particularly +aggravated character. + +"You do not see that his faults should cause me any uneasiness! Perhaps +it is very lucky he is not here, or you might encourage him in them. I +suppose you think he is doing quite right in spending his life at +Stanton College, aping a priest and talking about Gothic arches. Is it a +proper thing to transact all his business through a solicitor, and +never to see his tenants? Why does he not come and live at his own +beautiful place? Why does he not take up his position in the county? He +is not a magistrate. Why does he not get married?... he is the last; +there is no one to follow him. But he never thinks of that--he is afraid +that a woman might prove a disturbing influence in his life ... he feels +that he must live in an atmosphere of higher emotions. That's the way he +talks, and he is meditating, I assure you, a book on the literature of +the Middle Ages, on the works of bishops and monks who wrote Latin in +the early centuries. His mind, he says, is full of the cadences of that +language. That's the way he writes. He never asks me about his property, +never consults me in anything. Here is a letter I received yesterday. +Listen: + + +"'The poverty of spiritual life amid the western pagans could not fail to +encourage the growth of new religious tendencies. An epoch of great +spiritual activity had been succeeded by one of complete stagnation. A +glance at the literary progress of Rome since Tiberius will show this +emancipation from national and political considerations, the influence +of cosmopolitanism gave to the best specimens of Latin prose of the +silver age such riches and variety of substance and such individuality +of expression, that Seneca and Tacitus and the letters of Pliny are +marked with many modern characteristics. Form and language appear in +these writers only as the instrument and the matter wherewith men of +genius would express their intimate personality. Here antique culture +rises above itself, but, mark you, at the expense of all that is proper +to the Roman nation. Cosmopolitan Hellenism forces and breaks down the +bars of classical traditions, and, weary of restrictions these writers +first sought personal satisfaction, and then addressed themselves to +scholars rather than the people. + +"'But Hellenism found its medium in the Greek language, rich to +satiety, and possessing a syntax of such extraordinary flexibility, that +it could follow all evolutions without being shaken in its organism. It +was in vain that the Latin literature sought to maintain its position by +harking back to the writers anterior to Cicero, those that Hellenism had +not touched, and presenting them as models of style; and thus a new +school very fain of antiquity had sprung up, with Fronto for its +acknowledged chief--a school pre-occupied above all things by the form; +obsolete words set in a new setting, modern words introduced into old +cadences to freshen them with a bright and delightful varnish, in a +word, a language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea +and evanescent music--a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency +that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays--an autumn +forest.' + +"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to +call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediaeval +Latin. And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton +College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical +cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.' +Do you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would +you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the +chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about +organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever +hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it +would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them +better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I want +you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow, or +next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must +tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year, +building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent, +but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks +he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just +fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to +distant relatives--to those terrible cousins of ours." + +"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have +not seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I +don't think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are +after his money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the +priesthood in order that they may get hold of his property." + +"No, no; you must not say such a thing. I will not have you say anything +against his religion. I was very wrong to suggest such a thing. I am +sure no such idea ever entered the Jesuits' heads. Perhaps I am wrong to +send you to them.... Now I depend on you not to speak to him on +religious subjects." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Mrs Norton had known William Hare all her life. She was the youngest +daughter, he the youngest son of equal Yorkshire families. Separated by +about a mile of pasture and woodland, these families had for generations +lived unanimous lives. In England the hunting field, the grouse moor, +the croquet and tennis lawn, with its charming adjunct the five-o'clock +tea-table, have made life in certain classes almost communal; and Mrs +Norton and William Hare had stood in white frocks under Christmas trees +and shared sweetmeats. He often thought of the first time he saw her, +wearing a skirt that fell below her ankles, with her hair done up. And +she remembered his first appearance in evening clothes, and how +surprised and delighted she was to hear him ask her if he might have the +pleasure of a waltz. + +He went to Oxford to take his degree; she was taken to London for the +season, and towards the end of the third year she married Mr Norton, and +went to live at Thornby Place. Through the excitement of the marriage +arrangements, and the rapid impressions of her honeymoon, the thought of +having for neighbour the playmate of her youth had flitted across, but +had not rested in, her mind, and she did not realize the charm that it +was for her until one afternoon, now more than twenty years ago, a young +curate, bespattered with the grey mud of the downs, had startled her and +her husband by addressing her as Lizzie. Lizzie she had remained to him, +he was William to her, and henceforth their lives had been indissolubly +linked. Not a week had passed without their seeing each other. There +were visits to pay, there was hunting, and then habit intervened; and +for many years, in suffering, in joy, in hope, their thoughts had +instinctively looked to each other for reflective sympathy, and every +remembrable event was full of mutual associations. He had sat by her +when, after the birth of her first and only child, she lay pale, +beautiful, and weak on a sofa by a window blown by the tide of summer +scent; and the autumn of that same year he had walked with her in the +garden, where the leaves fell like the last illusion of youth under the +tears of an incurable grief; and staying in their walk they looked on +the house which was to be for evermore one of widowhood. + +Had she ever loved him? Had he ever loved her? In moments of passionate +loneliness she had yearned for his protection; in moments of deep +dejection he had dreamed of the happiness he might have found with her; +but in the broad day of their lives they had ever thought of each other +as friends. He had advised her on the management of her estate, on the +education of her son; and in his afflictions--in his widowerhood--when +his children quickly followed their mother to the grave, Mrs Norton's +form, face, and words had steadied him, and had helped him to bear with +a life of crumbling ruin. Kitty was now the only one that remained to +him. + +Mrs Norton had had projects of wealth and title for her son, but his +continued disdain of women and the love of women had long since forced +her to abandon her hopes, and now any one he might select she would +gladly welcome; but she whom Mrs Norton would have preferred to all +others was the daughter of her old friend. Her son had deserted her, and +now all her affections were centred in Kitty. Kitty was as much at +Thornby Place as at the Rectory, and in the gaiety of her bright eyes, +and in the shine of her gold-brown hair--for ever slipping from the gold +hair-pins in frizzed masses--Mrs Norton continued her dreams of her +son's marriage. + +Mr Hare thought it harsh that his daughter should be so constantly taken +from him, but the parsonage was so lonely for Kitty, and there were +luncheon and tennis parties at Thornby Place, and Mrs Norton took the +girl out for drives, and together they visited all the county families. +A suspicion of matchmaking sometimes crossed Mr Hare's mind, but it +faded in the knowledge that John was always at Stanton College; and to +send this fair flower to his great--to his only--friend, was a joy, and +the bitterness of temporary loss was forgotten in the sweetness of the +sharing. He had suffered much; but these last years had been quiet, free +from despair at least, and he wished to drift a little longer with the +tide of this time. Why strive to hasten events? If this thing was to be, +it would be. So he had thought of his daughter's marriage. Fancies had +long hung about the confines of his mind, but nothing had struck him +with the full force of a thought until suddenly he understood the exact +purport of his mission to Stanton College. He leaned forward as if he +were going to tell the driver to return, but before he could do so the +lodge-keeper opened the great gate, and the hansom cab rattled under the +archway. + +Then he viewed the scheme in general outline and in remote detail. It +was very simple. Lizzie had been to Shoreham, and had taken Kitty away +with her; he had been sent to Stanton College to beg John Norton to +return to Thornby Place, and to say what he could in favour of marriage +generally. This was very compromising. He had been deceived; Lizzie had +deceived him. She had no right to do such a thing; and, striving to +determine on a line of conduct, Mr Hare examined abstractedly the place +he was passing through. + +In large and serpentine curves the road wound through a wood of small +beech trees--so small that in the November dishevelment the plantations +were like so much brushwood; and, lying behind the wind-swept opening, +gravel walks appeared in grey fragments, and the green spaces of the +cricket field with a solitary divine reading his breviary. The drive +turned and turned again in great sloping curves; more divines were +passed, and then there came a long terrace with a balustrade and a view +of the open country, now full of mist. And to see the sharp spire of +the distant church you had to look closely, and slanting slowly upwards +the great plain drew a long and melancholy line across the sky. The +lower terrace was approached by an imposing flight of steps, there were +myriads of leaves in the air, and the college bell rang in its high red +tower. + +The high red walls of the college faced the dismal terraces, and the +triple line of diamond-paned and iron-barred windows stared upon the +ugly Staffordshire landscape. A square tower squatted in the middle of +the building, and out of it rose the octagon of the bell tower, and in +the tower wall was the great oak door studded with great nails. + +"How Birmingham the whole place does look," thought Mr Hare, as he laid +his hand on an imitation mediaeval bell-pull. + +"Is Mr John Norton at home?" he asked when the servant came. "Will you +give him my card, and say that I should like to see him." + +On entering, Mr Hare found himself in a tiled hall, around which was +built a staircase in varnished oak. There was a quadrangle, and from +three sides the interminable latticed windows looked down on the green +sward; on the fourth there was an open corridor, with arches to imitate +a cloister. All was strong and barren, and only about the varnished +staircase was there any sign of comfort. There a virgin in bright blue +stood on a crescent moon; above her the ceiling was panelled in oak, and +the banisters, the cocoa nut matting, the bit of stained glass, and the +religious prints, suggested a mock air of hieratic dignity. And the room +Mr Hare was shown into continued this impression. Cabinets in carved oak +harmonised with high-backed chairs glowing with red Utrecht velvet, and +a massive table, on which lay a folio edition of St Augustine's "City of +God" and the "Epistolae Consolitoriae" of St Jerome. + +The bell continued to clang, and through the latticed windows Mr Hare +watched the divines hurrying along the windy terrace, and the tramp of +the boys going to their class-rooms could be heard in passages below. + +Then a young man entered. He was thin, and he was dressed in black. His +face was very Roman, the profile especially was what you might expect to +find on a Roman coin--a high nose, a high cheek-bone, a strong chin, and +a large ear. The eyes were prominent and luminous, and the lower part of +the face was expressive of resolution and intelligence, but above the +eyes there were many indications of cerebral distortions. The forehead +was broad, but the temples retreated rapidly to the brown hair which +grew luxuriantly on the top of the head, leaving what the phrenologists +call the bumps of ideality curiously exposed, and this, taken in +conjunction with the yearning of the large prominent eyes, suggested at +once a clear, delightful intelligence,--a mind timid, fearing, and +doubting, such a one as would seek support in mysticism and dogma, that +would rise instantly to a certain point, but to drop as suddenly as if +sickened by the too intense light of the cold, pure heaven of reason to +the gloom of the sanctuary and the consolations of Faith. Let us turn to +the mouth for a further indication of character. It was large, the lips +were thick, but without a trace of sensuality. They were dim in colour, +they were undefined in shape, they were a little meaningless--no, not +meaningless, for they confirmed the psychological revelations of the +receding temples. The hands were large, powerful, and grasping; they +were earthly hands; they were hands that could take and could hold, and +their materialism was curiously opposed to the ideality of the eyes--an +ideality that touched the confines of frenzy. The shoulders were square +and carried well back, the head was round, with close-cut hair, the +straight-falling coat was buttoned high, and the fashionable collar, +with a black satin cravat, beautifully tied and relieved with a rich +pearl pin, set another unexpected but singularly charmful detail to an +aggregate of apparently irreconcilable characteristics. + +"And how do you do, my dear Mr Hare? and who would have expected to see +you here? I am so glad to see you." + +These words were spoken frankly and cordially, and there was a note of +mundane cheerfulness in the voice which did not quite correspond with +the sacerdotal elegance of this young man. Then he added quickly, as if +to save himself from asking the reason of this very unexpected visit-- + +"But you have never been here before; this is the first time you have +seen our college. And seeing it as it now is, you would not believe all +the delightful detail that a ray of sunlight awakens in that hideous +brown monotony, soaked with rain and bedimmed with mist." + +"Yes, I can quite understand that the college is not looking its best on +a day like this. We have had very wet weather lately." + +"No doubt, and I am afraid these late rains have interfered with the +harvest. The accounts from the North are very alarming, but in Sussex, I +suppose, everything was over at least two months ago. Still even there +the farmers have been losing money for some time back. I have had to +make some very heavy reductions. Pearson declared he could not possibly +continue at the present rent with corn as low as eight pounds a load. +This is very serious, but it is very difficult to arrive at the truth. I +want to talk to you; but we shall have plenty of time presently; you'll +stay and dine? And I'll show you over the college: you have never been +here before, and now I come to reckon it up, I find I have not seen you +for nearly five years." + +"It must be very nearly that; I missed you the last time you were at +Thornby Place, and that was three years ago." + +"Three years! It sounds very shocking, doesn't it? to have a beautiful +place in Sussex and not to live there: to prefer an ugly red-brick +college--Birmingham Tudor; my mother invented the expression. When she +is in a passion she hits on the very happiest concurrence of words; and +I must say she is right,--the architecture here is appallingly ugly; +and I don't think anything could be done to improve it, do you?" + +"I can't say that I can suggest anything for the moment, but I thought +it was for the sake of the architecture, which I frankly confess I don't +in the least admire, that you lived here." + +"You thought it was for the sake of the architecture...." + +"Then why do you not come home and spend Christmas with your mother!" + +"Christmas! Well, I suppose I ought to. But it will be hard to bear with +the plain Protestantism, the smug materialism of Sussex at such a +season; and when one thinks what the day is commemorative of--" + +"You surely do not mean that you would prefer to see the people +starving? If your dislike of Protestantism rests only on roast beef and +plum pudding...." + +"No, you don't understand. But I beg your pardon--I had really +forgotten...." + +"Never mind," said Mr Hare smiling; "continue: we were talking of roast +beef and plum pudding--" + +"Well, roast beef and plum pudding, say what you like, is a very +complete figuration of the Protestant ideal. Now let us think of +Sussex.... The villas with their gables, and railings, and laurels, the +snug farm-houses, the market-gardening, but especially the villas, so +representative of a sleepy smug materialism.... Oh, it is horrible; I +cannot think of Sussex without a revulsion of feeling. Sussex is utterly +opposed to the monastic spirit. Why, even the downs are easy, yes, easy +as one of the upholsterer's armchairs of the villa residences. And the +aspect of the county tallies exactly with the state of soul of its +people. In that southern county all is soft and lascivious; there is no +wildness, none of that scenical grandeur which we find in Scotland and +Ireland, and which is emblematic of the yearning of man's soul for +something higher than this mean and temporal life." + +There was rapture in John's eyes. With a quick movement of his hands he +seemed to spurn the entire materialism of Sussex. After a pause, he +continued: + +"There is no asceticism in Sussex, there is no yearning for anything +higher or better. You--yes, you and the whole place are, in every sense +of the word, Conservative--that is to say, brutally satisfied with the +present ordering of things." + +"Now, now, my dear John, by your own account Pearson is not by any means +so satisfied with the present condition of things as you yourself would +wish him to be." + +John laughed loudly, and it was clear that the paradox in no way +displeased him. + +"But we were speaking," he continued, "not of temporal, but of spiritual +pains and penalties. Now, anyone who did not know me--and none will ever +know me--would think that I had not a care in the world. Well, I have +suffered as horribly, I have been tortured as cruelly, as ever poor +mortal was.... I have lain on the floor of my room, my heart dead +within me, and moaned and shrieked with horror." + +"Horror of what?" + +"Horror of death and a worse horror of life. Few amongst men ever +realise the truth of things, but there are rare occasions, moments of +supernatural understanding or suffering (which are two words for one and +the same thing), when we see life in all its worm-like meanness, and +death in its plain, stupid loathsomeness. Two days out of this year live +like fire in my mind. I went to my uncle Richard's funeral. There was +cold meat and sherry on the table; a dreadful servant asked me if I +would go up to the corpse-room. (Mark the expression.) I went. It lay +swollen and featureless, and two busy hags lifted it up and packed it +tight with wisps of hay, and mechanically uttered shrieks and moans. + +"But, though the funeral was painfully obscene, it was not so obscene as +the view of life I was treated to last week.... + +"Last week I was in London; I went to a place they call the 'Colonies.' +Till then I had never realised the foulness of the human animal, but +there even his foulness was overshadowed by his stupidity. The masses, +yes, I saw the masses, and I fed with them in their huge intellectual +stye. The air was filled with lines of the most inconceivable flags, +lines upon lines of pale yellow, and there were glass cases filled with +pickle bottles, and there were piles of ropes and a machine in motion, +and in nooks there were some dreadful lay figures, and written +underneath them, 'Indian corn-seller,' 'Indian fish-seller.' And there +was the Prince of Wales on horseback, three times larger than life; and +there were stuffed deer upon a rock, and a Polar bear, and the Marquis +of Lome underneath. In another room there were Indian houses, things in +carved wood, and over each large placards announcing the popular dinner, +the _buffet_, the _table d'hôte_, at half-a-crown; and there were oceans +of tea, and thousands of rolls of butter, and in the gardens the band +played 'Thine alone' and 'Mine again.' + +"It seemed as if all the back-kitchens and staircases in England had +that day been emptied out--life-tattered housewives, girls grown stout +on porter, pretty-faced babies, heavy-handed fathers, whistling boys in +their sloppy clothes, and attitudes curiously evidencing an odious +domesticity.... + +"In the Greek and Roman life there was an ideal, and there was a great +ideal in the monastic life of the Middle Ages; but an ideal is wholly +wanting in nineteenth century life. I am not of these later days. I am +striving to come to terms with life." + +"And you think you can do that best by folding vestments and reviling +humanity. I do not see how you reconcile these opinions with the +teaching of Christ--with the life of Christ." + +"Oh, of course, if you are going to use those arguments against me, I +have done; I can say no more." + +Mr Hare did not answer, and at the end of a long silence John said: + +"But, what do you say, supposing I show you over the college now, and +when that's done you will come up to my room and we'll have a smoke +before dinner?" + +Mr Hare raised no objection, and the two men descended the staircase +into the long stony corridor. The quadrangle filled the diamond panes +of the latticed windows with green, and the divine walking to and fro +was a spot of black. There were pictures along the walls of the +corridor--pictures of upturned faces and clasped hands--and these drew +words of commiseration for the artistic ignorance of the College +authorities from John's lips. + +"And they actually believe that that dreadful monk with the skull is a +real Ribera.... The chapel is on the right, the refectory on the left. +Come, let us see the chapel; I am anxious to hear what you think of my +window." + +"It ought to be very handsome; it cost five hundred, did it not?" + +"No, not quite so much as that," John answered abruptly; and then, +passing through the communion rails, they stood under the multi-coloured +glory of three bishops. Mr Hare felt that a good deal of rapture was +expected of him; but in his efforts to praise, he felt he was exposing +his ignorance. John called attention to the transparency of the +green-watered skies; and turning their backs on the bishops, the blue +ceiling with the gold stars was declared, all things considered, to be +in excellent taste. The benches in the body of the church were for boys; +the carved chairs set along both walls between the communion rails and +the first steps of the altar were for the divines. The president and +vice-president knelt facing each other. The priests, deacons, and +sub-deacons followed according to their rank. There were slenderer +benches, and these were for the choir; and from a music-book placed on +wings of the great golden eagle, the leader conducted the singing. + +The side altar, with the rich Turkey carpet spread over the steps, was +St George's, and further on, in an addition made lately, there were two +more altars, dedicated respectively to the Virgin and St Joseph. + +"The maid-servants kneel in that corner. I have often suggested +that they should be moved out of sight. You do not understand me. +Protestantism has always been more reconciled to the presence of women +in sacred places than we. We would wish them beyond the precincts. And +it is easy to imagine how the unspeakable feminality of those +maid-servants jars a beautiful impression--the altar towering white with +wax candles, the benedictive odour of incense, the richness of the +vestments, treble voices of boys floating, and the sweetness of a long +day spent about the sanctuary with flowers and chalices in my hands, +fade in a sense of sullen disgust, in a revulsion of feeling which I +will not attempt to justify." + +Then his thoughts, straying back to sudden recollections of monastic +usages and habits, he said: + +"I should like to scourge them out of this place." And then, half +playfully, half seriously, and wholly conscious of the grotesqueness, +he added: + +"Yes, I am not at all sure that a good whipping would not do them good. +They should be well whipped. I believe that there is much to be said in +favour of whipping." + +Mr Hare did not answer. He listened like one in a dark and unknown +place. But, as if unconscious of the embarrassment he was creating, John +told of the number of masses that were said daily, and of the eagerness +shown by the boys to obtain an altar. Altar service was rewarded by a +large piece of toast for breakfast. Handsome lads of sixteen were chosen +for acolytes, the torch-bearers were selected from the smallest boys, +the office of censer was filled by John Norton, and he was also the +chief sacristan, and had charge of the altar plate and linen and the +vestments. He spoke of the organ, and he depreciated the present +instrument, and enlarged upon some technical details anent the latest +modern improvements in keys and stops. + +They went up to the organ loft. John would play his setting of St +Ambrose's hymn, "Veni redemptor gentium," if Mr Hare would go to the +bellows, and feeling as if he were being turned into ridicule, Mr Hare +took his place at the handle; and he found it even more embarrassing +to give an opinion on the religiosity of the music, than on the +archaeological colouration of the bishops in the window. But John did +not court any very detailed criticism on his hymn, and alluding to the +fact that even in the fourth century accent was beginning to replace +quantity, he led the way to the sacristy. + +And it was impossible to avoid noticing that the opening of the carved +oaken presses, smelling sweet and benignly of orris root and lavender, +acted on John almost as a physical pleasure, and also that his hands +seemed nervous with delight as he unfolded the jewelled embroideries, +and smoothed out the fine linen of the under vestments; and his voice, +too, seemed to gain a sharp tenderness and emotive force, as he told how +these were the gold vestments worn by the bishop, and only on certain +great feast-days, and that these were the white vestments worn on days +especially commemorative of the Virgin. The consideration of the +censers, candlesticks, chalices, and albs took some time, and John was a +little aggressive in his explanation of Catholic ceremonial, and its +grace and comeliness compared with the stiffness and materialism of the +Protestant service. + +From the sacristy they went to the boys' library. John pointed out the +excellent supply of light literature that the bookcases contained. + +"We take travels, history, fairy-tales--romances of all kinds, so long +as sensual passion is not touched upon at any length. Of course we +don't object to a book in which just towards the end the young man falls +in love and proposes; but there must not be much of that sort of thing. +Here are Robert Louis Stevenson's works, 'Treasure Island,' 'Kidnapped,' +&c., charming writer--a neat pretty style, with a pleasant souvenir of +Edgar Poe running through it all. You have no idea how the boys enjoy +his books." + +"And don't you?" + +"Oh no; I have just glanced at him: for my own reading, I can admit none +who does not write in the first instance for scholars, and then to the +scholarly instincts in readers generally. Here is Walter Pater. We have +his Renaissance; studies in art and poetry--I gave it myself to the +library. We were so sorry we could not include that most beautiful book, +'Marius the Epicurean.' We have some young men here of twenty and three +and twenty, and it would be delightful to see them reading it, so +exquisite is its hopeful idealism; but we were obliged to bar it on +account of the story of Psyche, sweetly though it be told, and sweetly +though it be removed from any taint of realistic suggestion. Do you know +the book?" + +"I can't say I do." + +"Then read it at once. It is a breath of delicious fragrance blown back +to us from the antique world; nothing is lost or faded, the bloom of +that glad bright world is upon every page; the wide temples, the lustral +water--the youths apportioned out for divine service, and already happy +with a sense of dedication, the altars gay with garlands of wool and the +more sumptuous sort of flowers, the colour of the open air, with the +scent of the beanfields, mingling with the cloud of incense." + +"But I thought you denied any value to the external world, that the +spirit alone was worth considering." + +"The antique world knew how to idealise, and if they delighted in the +outward form, they did not leave it gross and vile as we do when we +touch it; they raised it, they invested it with a sense of aloofness +that we know not of. Flesh or spirit, idealise one or both, and I will +accept them. But you do not know the book. You must read it. Never did I +read with such rapture of being, of growing to spiritual birth. It +seemed to me that for the first time I was made known to myself; for the +first time the false veil of my grosser nature was withdrawn, and I +looked into the true ethereal eyes, pale as wan water and sunset skies, +of my higher self. Marius was to me an awakening; the rapture of +knowledge came upon me that even our temporal life might be beautiful; +that, in a word, it was possible to somehow come to terms with life.... +You must read it. For instance, can anyone conceive anything more +perfectly beautiful than the death of Flavian, and all that youthful +companionship, and Marius' admiration for his friend's poetry?... that +delightful language of the third century--a new Latin, a season of +dependency, an Indian summer full of strange and varied cadences, so +different from the monotonous sing-song of the Augustan age; the school +of which Fronto was the head. Indeed, it was Pater's book that first +suggested to me the idea of the book I am writing. But perhaps you do +not know I am writing a book.... Did my mother tell you anything about +it?" + +"Yes; she told me you were writing the history of Christian Latin." + +"Yes; that is to say, of the language that was the literary, the +scientific, and the theological language of Europe for more than a +thousand years." + +And talking of his book rapidly, and with much boyish enthusiasm, John +opened the doors of the refectory. The long, oaken tables, the great +fireplace, and the stained glass seemed to delight him, and he alluded +to the art classes of monastic life. The class-rooms were peeped into, +the playground was viewed through the lattice windows, and they went to +John's room, up a staircase curiously carpeted with lead. + +John's rooms! a wide, bright space of green painted wood and straw +matting. The walls were panelled from floor to ceiling. In the centre of +the floor there was an oak table--a table made of sharp slabs of oak +laid upon a frame that was evidently of ancient design, probably early +German, a great, gold screen sheltered a high canonical chair with +elaborate carvings, and on a reading-stand close by lay the manuscript +of a Latin poem. + +"And what is this?" said Mr Hare. + +"Oh! that is a poem by Milo, his 'De Sobricate.' I heard that the +manuscript was still preserved in the convent of Saint Amand, near +Tournai, and I sent and had a copy made for me. That was the simplest +way. You have no idea how difficult it is to buy the works of any Latin +authors except those of the Augustan age. Milo was a monk, and he lived +in the eighth century. He was a man of very considerable attainments, +if he were not a very great poet. He was a contemporary of Floras, who, +by the way, was a real poet. Some of his verses are delightful, full of +delicate cadence and colour. The MS. under your hand is a poem by him-- + + "'Montes et colles, silvaeque et flumina, fontes, + Praeruptaeque rupes, pariter vallesque profondae + Francorum lugete genus: quod munere christi, + Imperio celsum jacet ecce in pulvere mersum.' + +"That was written in the eighth century when the language was becoming +terribly corrupt; when it was hideous with popular idiom barbarously and +recklessly employed. But even in that time of autumnal decay and pallid +bloom, a real poet such as Walahfrid Strabat could weave a garland of +grace and beauty; one, indeed, that lived through the chance of +centuries in the minds of men. It found numberless imitators and favour +even with the Humanists, and it was reprinted eight times in the +seventeenth century. This poem is of especial interest to me on account +of the illustration it affords of a theory of my own concerning the +unconsciousness of the true artist. For breaking away from the literary +habitudes of his time, which were to do the gospels or the life of +a favourite saint into hexameters, he wrote a poem, 'Hortulus,' +descriptive of the garden of the monastery. The garden was all the world +to the monks; it furnished them at once with the pleasures and the +necessaries of their lives. Walahfrid felt this; he described his +feelings, and he produced a chef d'oeuvre." Going over to the bookcase, +John took down a volume. He read:-- + + "'Hoc nemus umbriferum pingit viridissima Rutae + Silvula coeruleae, foliis quae praedita parvis, + Umbellas jaculata brevis, spiramina venti + Et radios Phoebi caules transmittit ad imos, + Attactuque graves leni dispergit odores, + Haec cum multiplici vigeat virtute medelae, + Dicitur occultis apprime obstare venenis, + Toxicaque invasis incommoda pellere fibris.' + +"Now, can anything be more charming? True it is that pingit in the first +line does not seem to construe satisfactorily, and I am not certain that +the poet may not have written _fingit_. Fingit would not be pure Latin, +but that is beside the question." + +"Indeed it is. I must say I prefer the Georgics. I have known many +strange tastes, but your fancy for bad Latin is the strangest of all." + +"Classical Latin, with the exception of Tacitus, is cold-blooded and +self-satisfied. There is no agitation, no fever; to me it is utterly +without interest." + +To the books and manuscripts the pictures on the walls afforded an +abrupt contrast. No. 1. "A Japanese Girl," by Monet. A poppy in the pale +green walls; a wonderful macaw! Why does it not speak in strange +dialect? It trails lengths of red silk. Such red! The pigment is twirled +and heaped with quaint device, until it seems to be beautiful embroidery +rather than painting; and the straw-coloured hair, and the blond light +on the face, and the unimaginable coquetting of that fan.... + +No. 2. "The Drop Curtain," by Degas. The drop curtain is fast +descending; only a yard of space remains. What a yardful of curious +comment, what satirical note on the preposterousness of human +existence! what life there is in every line; and the painter has made +meaning with every blot of colour! Look at the two principal dancers! +They are down on their knees, arms raised, bosoms advanced, skirts +extended, a hundred coryphées are clustered about them. Leaning hands, +uplifted necks, painted eyes, scarlet mouths, a piece of thigh, arched +insteps, and all is blurred; vanity, animalism, indecency, absurdity, +and all to be whelmed into oblivion in a moment. Wonderful life; +wonderful Degas! + +No. 3. "A Suburb," by Monet. Snow! the world is white. The furry fluff +has ceased to fall, and the sky is darkling and the night advances, +dragging the horizon up with it like a heavy, deadly curtain. But the +roof of the villa is white, and the green of the laurels shaken free of +the snow shines through the railings, and the shadows that lie across +the road leading to town are blue--yes, as blue as the slates under the +immaculate snow. + +No. 4. "The Cliff's Edge," by Monet. Blue? purple the sea is; no, it is +violet; 'tis striped with violet and flooded with purple; there are +living greens, it is full of fading blues. The dazzling sky deepens as +it rises to breathless azure, and the soul pines for and is fain of God. +White sails show aloft; a line of dissolving horizon; a fragment of +overhanging cliff wild with coarse grass and bright with poppies, and +musical with the lapsing of the summer waves. + +There were in all six pictures--a tall glass filled with pale roses, by +Renoir; a girl tying up her garter, by Monet. + +Through the bedroom door Mr Hare saw a narrow iron bed, an iron +washhand-stand, and a prie-dieu. A curious three-cornered wardrobe stood +in one corner, and facing it, in front of the prie-dieu, a life-size +Christ hung with outstretched arms. The parson looked round for a seat, +but the chairs were like cottage stools on high legs, and the angular +backs looked terribly knife-like. + +"Sit in the arm-chair. Shall I get you a pillow from the next room? +Personally I cannot bear upholstery; I cannot conceive anything more +hideous than a padded arm-chair. All design is lost in that infamous +stuffing. Stuffing is a vicious excuse for the absence of design. If +upholstery was forbidden by law to-morrow, in ten years we should have +a school of design. Then the necessity of composition would be +imperative." + +"I daresay there is a good deal in what you say; but tell me, don't you +find these chairs very uncomfortable. Don't you think that you would +find a good comfortable arm-chair very useful for reading purposes?" + +"No, I should feel far more uncomfortable on a cushion than I do on this +bit of hard oak. Our ancestors had an innate sense of form that we have +not. Look at these chairs, nothing can be plainer; a cottage stool is +hardly more simple, and yet they are not offensive to the eye. I had +them made from a picture by Albert Durer. But tell me, what will you +take to drink? Will you have a glass of champagne, or a brandy and +soda, or what do you say to an absinthe?" + +"'Pon my word, you seem to look after yourself. You don't forget the +inner man." + +"I always keep a good supply of liquor; have a cigar?" And John passed +to him a box of fragrant and richly coloured Havanas.... Mr Hare took a +cigar, and glanced at the table on which John was mixing the drinks. It +was a slip of marble, rested, café fashion, on iron supports. + +"But that table is modern, surely?--quite modern!" + +"Quite; it is a café table, but it does not offend my eye. You surely +would not have me collect a lot of old-fashioned furniture and pile it +up in my rooms, Turkey carpets and Japaneseries of all sorts; a room +such as Sir Fred. Leighton would declare was intended to be merely +beautiful." + +Striving vainly to understand, Mr Hare drank his brandy and soda in +silence. Presently he walked over to the bookcases. There were two: one +was filled with learned-looking volumes bearing the names of Latin +authors; and the parson, who prided himself on his Latinity, was +surprised, and a little nettled, to find so much ignorance proved upon +him. With Tertullian, St Jerome, and St Augustine he was of course +acquainted, but of Lactantius, Prudentius, Sedulius, St Fortunatus, Duns +Scotus, Hibernicus exul, Angilbert, Milo, &c., he was obliged to admit +he knew nothing--even the names were unknown to him. + +In the bookcase on the opposite side of the room there were complete +editions of Landor and Swift, then came two large volumes on Leonardo da +Vinci. Raising his eyes, the parson read through the titles of Mr +Browning's work. Tennyson was in a cheap seven-and-six edition; then +came Swinburne, Pater, Rossetti, Morris, two novels by Rhoda Broughton, +Dickens, Thackeray, Fielding, and Smollett; the complete works of +Balzac, Gautier's Emaux et Camées, Salammbo, L'Assommoir; add to this +Carlyle, Byron, Shelley, Keats, &c. + +At the end of a long silence, Mr Hare said, glancing once again at the +Latin authors, and walking towards the fire: + +"Tell me, John, are those the books you are writing about? Supposing you +explain to me in a few words the line you are taking. Your mother tells +me that you intend to call your book the History of Christian Latin." + +"Yes, I had thought of using that title, but I am afraid it is a little +too ambitious. To write the history of a literature extending over at +least eight centuries would entail an appalling amount of reading; and +besides only a few, say a couple of dozen writers out of some hundreds, +are of the slightest literary interest, and very few indeed of any real +aesthetic value. I have been hard at work lately, and I think I know +enough of the literature of the Middle Ages to enable me to make a +selection that will comprise everything of interest to ordinary +scholarship, and enough to form a sound basis to rest my own literary +theories upon. I begin by stating that there existed in the Middle Ages +a universal language such as Goethe predicted the future would again +bring to us.... + +"Before the formation of the limbs, that is to say before the German and +Roman languages were developed up to the point of literary usage, the +Latin language was the language of all nations of the western world. +But the day came, in some countries a little earlier, in some a little +later, when it was replaced by the national idioms. The different +literatures of the West had therefore been preceded by a Latin +literature that had for a long time held out a supporting hand to each. +The language of this literature was not a dead language, It was the +language of government, of science, of religion; and a little +dislocated, a little barbarised, it had penetrated to the minds of the +people, and found expression in drinking songs and street ditties. + +"Such is the theme of my book; and it seems to me that a language that +has played so important a part in the world's history is well worthy of +serious study. + +"I show how Christianity, coming as it did with a new philosophy, and a +new motive for life, invigorated and saved the Latin language in a time +of decline and decrepitude. For centuries it had given expression, even +to satiety, to a naive joy in the present; on this theme, all that +could be said had been said, all that could be sung had been sung, +and the Rhetoricians were at work with alliteration and refrain when +Christianity came, and impetuously forced the language to speak the +desire of the soul. In a word, I want to trace the effect that such a +radical alteration in the music, if I may so speak, had upon the +instrument--the Latin language." + +"And with whom do you begin?" + +"With Tertullian, of course." + +"And what do you think of him?" + +"Tertullian, one of the most fascinating characters of ancient or modern +times. In my study of his writings I have worked out a psychological +study of the man himself as revealed through them. His realism, I might +say materialism, is entirely foreign to my own nature, but I cannot +help being attracted by that wild African spirit, so full of savage +contradictions, so full of energy that it never knew repose: in him you +find all the imperialism of ancient times. When you consider that he +lived in a time when the church was struggling for utterance amid the +horrors of persecution, his mad Christianity becomes singularly +attractive; a passionate fear of beauty for reason of its temptations, a +fear that turned to hatred, and forced him at last into the belief that +Christ was an ugly man." + +"I know nothing of the monks of the eighth century and their poetry, +but I do know something of Tertullian, and you mean to tell me that +you admire his style--those harsh chopped-up phrases and strained +antitheses." + +"I should think I did. Phrases set boldly one against the other; quaint, +curious, and full of colour, the reader supplies with delight the +connecting link, though the passion and the force of the description +lives and reels along. Listen: + +"'Quae tunc spectaculi latitudo! quid admirer? quid rideam? ubi gaudeam? +ubi exultem, spectans tot ac tantos reges, qui in coelum recepti +nuntiabantur, cum ipso Jove et ipsis suis testibus in imis tenebris +congemiscentes!--Tunc magis tragoedi audiendi, magis scilicet vocales in +sua propria calamitate; tunc histriones cognoscendi, solutiores multo +per ignem; tunc spectandus auriga, in flammea rota totus rubens, &c.' + +"Show me a passage in Livy equal to that for sheer force and glittering +colour. The phrases are not all dove-tailed one into the other and +smoothed away; they stand out." + +"Indeed they do. And whom do you speak of next?" + +"I pass on to St Cyprian and Lactantius; to the latter I attribute the +beautiful poem of the Phoenix." + +"What! Claudian's poem?" + +"No, but one infinitely superior. After Lactantius comes St Ambrose, St +Jerome, and St Augustine. The second does not interest me, and my notice +of him is brief; but I make special studies of the first and last. It +was St Ambrose who introduced singing into the Catholic service. He took +the idea from the Arians. He saw the effect it had upon the vulgar mind, +and he resolved to combat the heresy with its own weapons. He composed a +vast number of hymns. Only four have come down to us, and they are as +perfect in form as in matter. You will scarcely find anywhere a false +quantity or a hiatus. The Ambrosian hymns remained the type of all the +hymnic poetry of succeeding centuries. Even Prudentius, great poet as he +was, was manifestly influenced in the choice of metre and the +composition of the strophe by the Deus Creator omnium.... + +"St Ambrose did more than any other writer of his time to establish +certain latent tendencies as characteristics of the Catholic spirit. +His pleading in favour of ascetic life and of virginity, that entirely +Christian virtue, was very influential. He lauds the virgin above the +wife, and, indeed, he goes so far as to tell parents that they can +obtain pardon of their sins by offering their daughters to God. His +teaching in this respect was productive of very serious rebellion +against what some are pleased to term the laws of Nature. But St Ambrose +did not hesitate to uphold the repugnance of girls to marriage as not +only lawful but praiseworthy." + +"I am afraid you let your thoughts dwell very much on such subjects." + +"Really, do you think I do?" John's eyes brightened for a moment, and he +lapsed into what seemed an examination of conscience. Then he said, +somewhat abruptly, "St Jerome I speak of, or rather I allude to him, and +pass on at once to the study of St Augustine--the great prose writer, as +Prudentius was the great poet, of the Middle Ages. + +"Now, talking of style, I will admit that the eternal apostrophising of +God and the incessant quoting from the New Testament is tiresome to the +last degree, and seriously prejudices the value of the 'Confessions' as +considered from the artistic standpoint. But when he bemoans the loss of +the friend of his youth, when he tells of his resolution to embrace an +ascetic life, he is nervously animated, and is as psychologically +dramatic as Balzac." + +"I have taken great pains with my study of St Augustine, because in him +the special genius of Christianity for the first time found a voice. All +that had gone before was a scanty flowerage--he was the perfect fruit. I +am speaking from a purely artistic standpoint: all that could be done +for the life of the senses had been done, but heretofore the life of the +soul had been lived in silence--none had come to speak of its suffering, +its uses, its tribulation. In the time of Horace it was enough to sit in +Lalage's bower and weave roses; of the communion of souls none had ever +thought. Let us speak of the soul! This is the great dividing line +between the pagan and Christian world, and St Augustine is the great +landmark. In literature he discovered that man had a soul, and that man +had grown interested in its story, had grown tired of the exquisite +externality of the nymph-haunted forest and the waves where the Triton +blows his plaintive blast. + +"The whole theory and practice of modern literature is found in the +'Confessions of St Augustine;' and from hence flows the great current of +psychological analysis which, with the development of the modern novel, +grows daily greater in volume and more penetrating in essence.... Is not +the fretful desire of the Balzac novel to tell of the soul's anguish an +obvious development of the 'Confessions'?" + +"In like manner I trace the origin of the ballad, most particularly the +English ballad, to Prudentius, a contemporary of Claudian." + +"You don't mean to say that you trace back our north-country ballads +to, what do you call him?" + +"Prudentius. I show that there is much in his hymns that recalls the +English ballads." + +"In his hymns?" + +"Yes; in the poems that come under such denomination. I confess it is +not a little puzzling to find a narrative poem of some five hundred +lines or more included under the heading of hymns; it would seem that +nearly all lyric poetry of an essentially Christian character was so +designated, to separate it from secular or pagan poetry. In Prudentius' +first published work, 'Liber Cathemerinon,' we find hymns composed +absolutely after the manner of St Ambrose, in the same or in similar +metres, but with this difference, the hymns of Prudentius are three, +four, and sometimes seven times longer than those of St Ambrose. The +Spanish poet did not consider, or he lost sight of, the practical usages +of poetry. He sang more from an artistic than a religious impulse. That +he delighted in the song for the song's own sake is manifest; and this +is shown in the variety of his treatment, and the delicate sense of +music which determined his choice of metre. His descriptive writing is +full of picturesque expression. The fifth hymn, 'Ad Incensum Lucernae,' +is glorious with passionate colour and felicitous cadence, be he +describing with precious solicitude for Christian archaeology the +different means of artistic lighting, flambeaux, candles, lamps, or +dreaming with all the rapture of a southern dream of the balmy garden +of Paradise. + +"But his best book to my thinking is by far, 'Peristephanon,' that is +to say, the hymns celebrating the glory of the martyrs. + +"I was saying just now that the hymns of Prudentius, by the dramatic +rapidity of the narrative, by the composition of the strophe, and by +their wit, remind me very forcibly of our English ballads. Let us take +the story of St Laurence, written in iambics, in verses of four lines +each. In the time of the persecutions of Valerian, the Roman prefect, +devoured by greed, summoned St Laurence, the treasurer of the church, +before him, and on the plea that parents were making away with their +fortunes to the detriment of their children, demanded that the sacred +vessels should be given up to him. 'Upon all coins is found the head of +the Emperor and not that of Christ, therefore obey the order of the +latter, and give to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor.' + +"To this speech, peppered with irony and sarcasm, St Laurence replies +that the church is very rich, even richer than the Emperor, and that he +will have much pleasure in offering its wealth to the prefect, and he +asks for three days to classify the treasures. Transported with joy, the +prefect grants the required delay. Laurence collects the infirm who have +been receiving charity from the church; and in picturesque grouping the +poet shows us the blind, the paralytic, the lame, the lepers, advancing +with trembling and hesitating steps. Those are the treasures, the +golden vases and so forth, that the saint has catalogued and is going to +exhibit to the prefect, who is waiting in the sanctuary. The prefect is +dumb with rage; the saint observes that gold is found in dross; that the +disease of the body is to be less feared than that of the soul; and he +developes this idea with a good deal of wit. The boasters suffer from +dropsy, the miser from cramp in the wrist, the ambitious from febrile +heat, the gossipers, who delight in tale-bearing, from the itch; but +you, he says, addressing the prefect, you who govern Rome,[1] suffer +from the _morbus regius_ (you see the pun). In revenge for thus +slighting his dignity, the prefect condemns St Laurence to be roasted on +a slow fire, adding, 'and deny there, if you will, the existence of my +Vulcan.' Even on the gridiron Laurence does not lose his good humour, +and he gets himself turned as a cook would a chop. + +"Now, do you not understand what I mean when I say that the hymns of +Prudentius are an anticipation of the form of the English ballad?... And +in the fifth hymn the story of St Vincent is given with that peculiar +dramatic terseness that you find nowhere except in the English ballad. +But the most beautiful poem of all is certainly the fourteenth and last +hymn. In a hundred and thirty-three hendecasyllabic verses the story of +a young virgin condemned to a house of ill-fame is sung with exquisite +sense of grace and melody. She is exposed naked at the corner of a +street. The crowd piously turns away; only one young man looks upon her +with lust in his heart. He is instantly struck blind by lightning, but +at the request of the virgin his sight is restored to him. Then follows +the account of how she suffered martyrdom by the sword--a martyrdom +which the girl salutes with a transport of joy. The poet describes her +ascending to Heaven, and casting one last look upon this miserable +earth, whose miseries seem without end, and whose joys are of such short +duration. + +"Then his great poem 'Psychomachia' is the first example in mediaeval +literature of allegorical poetry, the most Christian of all forms of +art. + +"Faith, her shoulders bare, her hair free, advances, eager for the +fight. The 'cult of the ancient gods,' with forehead chapleted after the +fashion of the pagan priests, dares to attack her, and is overthrown. +The legion of martyrs that Faith has called together cry in triumphant +unison.... Modesty (Pudicitia), a young virgin with brilliant arms, is +attacked by 'the most horrible of the Furies' (Sodomita Libido), who, +with a torch burning with pitch and sulphur, seeks to strike her eyes, +but Modesty disarms him and pierces him with her sword. 'Since the +Virgin without stain gave birth to the Man-God, Lust is without rights +in the world.' Patience watches the fight; she is presently attacked +by Anger, first with violent words, and then with darts, which fall +harmlessly from her armour. Accompanied by Job, Patience retires +triumphant. But at that moment, mounted on a wild and unbridled steed, +and covered with a lionskin, Pride (Superbia), her hair built up like a +tower, menaces Humility (Mens humilis). Under the banner of Humility are +ranged Justice, Frugality, Modesty, pale of face, and likewise +Simplicity. Pride mocks at this miserable army, and would crush it under +the feet of her steed. But she falls in a ditch dug by Fraud. Humility +hesitates to take advantage of her victory; but Hope draws her sword, +cuts off the head of the enemy, and flies away on golden wings to +Heaven. + +"Then Lust (Luxuria), the new enemy, appears. She comes from the extreme +East, this wild dancer, with odorous hair, provocative glance and +effeminate voice; she stands in a magnificent chariot drawn by four +horses; she scatters violet and rose leaves; they are her weapons; their +insidious perfumes destroy courage and will, and the army, headed by the +virtues, speaks of surrender. But suddenly Sobriety (Sobrietas) lifts +the standard of the Cross towards the sky. Lust falls from her chariot, +and Sobriety fells her with a stone. Then all her saturnalian army is +scattered. Love casts away his quiver. Pomp strips herself of her +garments, and Voluptuousness (Voluptas) fears not to tread upon thorns, +&c. But Avarice disguises herself in the mask of Economy, and succeeds +in deceiving all hearts until she is overthrown finally by Mercy +(Operatica). All sorts of things happen, but eventually the poem winds +up with a prayer to Christ, in which we learn that the soul shall fall +again and again in the battle, and that this shall continue until the +coming of Christ." + +"'Tis very curious, very curious indeed. I know nothing of this +literature." + +"Very few do." + +"And you have, I suppose, translated some of these poems?" + +"I give a complete translation of the second hymn, the story of St +Laurence, and I give long extracts from the poem we have been speaking +about, and likewise from 'Hamartigenia,' which, by the way, some +consider as his greatest work. And I show more completely, I think, than +any other commentator, the analogy between it and the 'Divine Comedy,' +and how much Dante owed to it.... Then the 'terza rima' was undoubtedly +borrowed from the fourth hymn of the 'Cathemerinon.'"... + +"You said, I think, that Prudentius was a contemporary of Claudian. +Which do you think the greater poet?" + +"Prudentius by far. Claudian's Latin was no doubt purer and his verse +was better, that is to say, from the classical standpoint it was more +correct." + +"Is there any other standpoint?" + +"Of course. There is pagan Latin and Christian Latin: Burns' poems are +beautiful, and they are not written in Southern English; Chaucer's +verse is exquisitely melodious, although it will not scan to modern +pronunciation. In the earliest Christian poetry there is a tendency to +write by accent rather than by quantity, but that does not say that +the hymns have not a quaint Gothic music of their own. This is very +noticeable in Sedulius, a poet of the fifth century. His hymn to Christ +is not only full of assonance, but of all kinds of rhyme and even +double rhymes. We find the same thing in Sedonius, and likewise in +Fortunatus--a gay prelate, the morality of whose life is, I am afraid, +open to doubt... + +"He had all the qualities of a great poet, but he wasted his genius +writing love verses to Radegonde. The story is a curious one. Radegonde +was the daughter of the King of Thuringia; she was made prisoner by +Clotaire I., son of Clovis, who forced her to become his wife. On the +murder of her father by her husband, she fled and founded a convent at +Poictiers. There she met Fortunatus, who, it appears, loved her. It is +of course humanly possible that their love was not a guilty one, but it +is certain that the poet wasted the greater part of his life writing +verses to her and her adopted daughter Agnes. In a beautiful poem in +praise of virginity, composed in honour of Agnes, he speaks in a very +disgusting way of the love with which nuns regard our Redeemer, and the +recompence that awaits them in Heaven for their chastity. If it had not +been for the great interest attaching to his verse as an example of the +radical alteration that had been effected in the language, I do not +think I should have spoken of this poet. Up to his time rhyme had +slipped only occasionally into the verse, it had been noticed and had +been allowed to remain by poets too idle to remove it, a strange +something not quite understood, and yet not a wholly unwelcome intruder; +but in St Fortunatus we find for the first time rhyme cognate with the +metre, and used with certainty and brilliancy. In the opening lines of +the hymn, 'Vexilla Regis,' rhyme is used with superb effect.... + +"But for signs of the approaching dissolution of the language, of its +absorption by the national idiom, we must turn to St Gregory of Tours. +He was a man of defective education, and the _lingua rustica_ of France +as it was spoken by the people makes itself felt throughout his +writings. His use of _iscere_ for _escere_, of the accusative for the +ablative, one of St Gregory's favourite forms of speech, _pro or quod_ +for _quoniam_, conformable to old French _porceque_, so common for +_parceque_. And while national idiom was oozing through grammatical +construction, national forms of verse were replacing the classical +metres which, so far as syllables were concerned, had hitherto been +adhered to. As we advance into the sixth and seventh centuries, we find +English monks attempting to reproduce the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon +alliterative verse in Latin; and at the Court of Charlemagne we find an +Irish monk writing Latin verse in a long trochaic line, which is native +in Irish poetry. + +"Poets were plentiful at the court of Charlemagne. Now, Angilbert was a +poet of exquisite grace, and surprisingly modern is his music, which is +indeed a wonderful anticipation of the lilt of Edgar Poe. I compare it +to Poe. Just listen:-- + + "'Surge meo Domno dulces fac, fistula versus: + David amat versus, surge et fac fistula versus. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David + Qua propter vates cuncti concurrite in unum + Atque meo David dulces cantate camoenas. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David. + Dulcis amor David inspirat corda canentum, + Cordibus in nostris faciat amor ipsius odas: + Vates Homerus amat David, fac, fistula, versus. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.'" + +"I should have flogged that monk--'ipsius,' oh, oh!--'vatorum.'... It +really is too terrible." + +John laughed, and was about to reply, when the clanging of the college +bell was heard. + +"I am afraid that is dinner-time." + +"Afraid, I am delighted; you don't suppose that every one can live, +chameleon-like, on air, or worse still, on false quantities. Ha, ha, ha! +And those pictures too. That snow is more violet than white." + +When dinner was over, John and Mr Hare walked out on the terrace. The +carriage waited in the wet in front of the great oak portal; the grey, +stormy evening descended on the high roofs, smearing the red out of the +walls and buttresses, and melancholy and tall the red college seemed +amid its dwarf plantation, now filled with night wind and drifting +leaves. Shadow and mist had floated out of the shallows above the crests +of the valley, and the lamps of the farm-houses gleamed into a pale +existence. + +"And now tell me what I am to say to your mother. Will you come home for +Christmas?" + +"I suppose I must. I suppose it would seem so unkind if I didn't. I +cannot account even to myself for my dislike to the place. I cannot +think of it without a revulsion of feeling that is strangely personal." + +"I won't argue that point with you, but I think you ought to come home." + +"Why? Why ought I to come to Sussex, and marry my neighbour's daughter?" + +"There is no reason that you should marry your neighbour's daughter, +but I take it that you do not propose to pass your life here." + +"For the present I am concerned mainly with the problem of how I may +make advances, how I may meet life, as it were, half-way; for if +possible I would not quite lose touch of the world. I would love to live +in its shadow, a spectator whose duty it is to watch and encourage, and +pity the hurrying throng on the stage. The church would approve this +attitude, whereas hate and loathing of humanity are not to be justified. +But I can do nothing to hurry the state of feeling I desire, except of +course to pray. I have passed through some terrible moments of despair +and gloom, but these are now wearing themselves away, and I am feeling +more at rest." + +Then, as if from a sudden fear of ridicule, John said, laughing: +"Besides, looking at the question from a purely practical side, it must +be hardly wise for me to return to society for the present. I like +neither fox-hunting, marriage, Robert Louis Stevenson's stories, nor Sir +Frederick Leighton's pictures; I prefer monkish Latin to Virgil, and I +adore Degas, Monet, Manet, and Renoir, and since this is so, and alas, I +am afraid irrevocably so, do you not think that I should do well to keep +outside a world in which I should be the only wrong and vicious being? +Why spoil that charming thing called society by my unlovely presence? + +"Selfishness! I know what you are going to say--here is my answer. I +assure you I administer to the best of my ability the fortune God gave +me--I spare myself no trouble. I know the financial position of every +farmer on my estate, the property does not owe fifty pounds;--I keep the +tenants up to the mark; I do not approve of waste and idleness, but when +a little help is wanted I am ready to give it. And then, well, I don't +mind telling you, but it must not go any further. I have made a will +leaving something to all my tenants; I give away a fixed amount in +charity yearly." + +"I know, my dear John, I know your life is not a dissolute one; but your +mother is very anxious, remember you are the last. Is there no chance +of your ever marrying?" + +"I don't think I could live with a woman; there is something very +degrading, something very gross in such relations. There is a better and +a purer life to lead ... an inner life, coloured and permeated with +feelings and tones that are, oh, how intensely our own, and he who may +have this life, shrinks from any adventitious presence that might jar or +destroy it. To keep oneself unspotted, to feel conscious of no sense of +stain, to know, yes, to hear the heart repeat that this self--hands, +face, mouth and skin--is free from all befouling touch, is all one's +own. I have always been strongly attracted to the colour white, and I +can so well and so acutely understand the legend that tells that the +ermine dies of gentle loathing of its own self, should a stain come upon +its immaculate fur.... I should not say a legend, for that implies that +the story is untrue, and it is not untrue--so beautiful a thought could +not be untrue." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Qui Romam regis.] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"Urns on corner walls, pilasters, circular windows, flowerage and +loggia. What horrible taste, and quite out of keeping with the +landscape!" He rang the bell. + +"How do you do, Master John!" cried the tottering old butler who had +known him since babyhood. "Very glad, indeed, we all are to see you home +again, sir!" + +Neither the appellation of Master John, nor the sight of the four +paintings, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, which decorated the walls +of the passage, found favour with John, and the effusiveness of Mrs +Norton, who rushed out of the drawing-room, followed by Kitty, and +embraced her son, at once set on edge all his curious antipathies. Why +this kissing, this approachment of flesh? Of course she was his +mother.... Then this smiling girl in the background! He would have to +amuse her and talk to her; what infinite boredom it would be! He trusted +fervently that her visit would not be a long one. + +Then through what seemed to him the pollution of triumph, he was led +into the library; and he noticed, notwithstanding the presiding busts of +Shakespeare and Milton, that there was but one wretched stand full of +books in the room, and that in the gloom of a far corner. His mother sat +down, and there was a resoluteness in her look and attitude that seemed +to proclaim, "Now I hold you captive;" but she said: + +"I was very much alarmed, my dear John, about your not sleeping. Mr Hare +told me you said that you went two and three nights without closing your +eyes, and that you had to have recourse to sleeping draughts." + +"Not at all, mother, I never took a sleeping draught but twice in my +life." + +"Well, you don't sleep well, and I am sure it is those college beds. +But you will be far more comfortable here. You are in the best bedroom +in the house, the one in front of the staircase, the bridal chamber; and +I have selected the largest and softest feather-bed in the house." + +"My dear mother, if there is one thing more than another I dislike, it +is a feather-bed. I should not be able to close my eyes; I beg of you to +have it taken away." + +Mrs Norton's face flushed. "I cannot understand, John; it is absurd to +say that you cannot sleep on a feather-bed. Mr Hare told me you +complained of insomnia, and there is no surer way of losing your health. +It is owing to the hardness of those college mattresses, whereas in a +feather-bed--" + +"There is no use in our arguing that point, mother, I say I cannot sleep +on a feather-bed...." + +"But you have not tried one; I don't believe you ever slept on a +feather-bed in your life." + +"Well, I am not going to begin now." + +"We haven't another bed aired in the house, and it is really too late +to ask the servants to change your room." + +"Well, then, I shall be obliged to sleep at the hotel in Henfield." + +"You should not speak to your mother in that way; I will not have it." + +"There! you see we are quarrelling already; I did wrong to come home." + +"I am speaking to you for your own good, my dear John, and I think it is +very stubborn of you to refuse to sleep on a feather-bed; if you don't +like it, you can change it to-morrow." + +The conversation fell, and in silence the speakers strove to master +their irritation. Then John, for politeness' sake, spoke of when he had +last seen Kitty. It was about five years ago. She had ridden her pony +over to see them. + +Mrs Norton talked of some people who had left the county, of a marriage, +of an engagement, of a mooted engagement; and she jerked in a +suggestion that if John were to apply at once, he would be placed +on the list of deputy-lieutenants. Enumeration of the family +influence--Lord So-and-so, the cousin, was the Lord Lieutenant's most +intimate friend. + +"You are not even a J.P., but there will be no difficulty about that; +and you have not seen any of the county people for years. We will have +the carriage out some day this week, and we'll pay a round of visits." + +"We'll do nothing of the kind. I have no time for visiting; I must get +on with my book. I hope to finish my study of St Augustine before I +leave here. I have my books to unpack, and a great deal of reading to +get through. I have done no more than glance at the Anglo-Latin. +Literature died in France with Gregory of Tours at the end of the sixth +century; with St Gregory the Great, in Italy, at the commencement of the +seventh century; in Spain about the same time. And then the Anglo-Saxons +became the representatives of the universal literature. All this is +most important. I must re-read St Aldhelm and the Venerable Bede.... +Now, I ask, do you expect me--me, with my head full of Aldhelm's +alliterative verses-- + + "'Turbo terram teretibus + Quae catervatim coelitus + Neque coelorum culmina + ...... + ...... + Grassabatur turbinibus + Crebrantur nigris nubibus + Carent nocturna nebula--' + +"a letter descriptive of a great storm which he was caught in as he was +returning home one night...." + +"Now, sir, we have had quite enough of that, and I would advise you not +to go on with any of that nonsense here; you will be turned into +dreadful ridicule." + +"That's just why I wish to avoid them ... but you have no pity for me. +Just fancy my having to listen to them! How I have suffered.... What is +the use of growing wheat when we are only getting eight pounds ten a +load?... But we must grow something, and there is nothing else but +wheat. We must procure a certain amount of straw, or we'd have no +manure, and you can't work a farm without manure. I don't believe in the +fish manure. But there is market gardening, and if we kept shops in +Brighton, we could grow our own stuff and sell it at retail price.... +And then there is a great deal to be done with flowers." + +"Now, sir, that will do, that will do.... How dare you speak to me so! I +will not allow it." And then relapsing into an angry silence, Mrs Norton +drew her shawl about her shoulders. + +One of a thousand quarrels. The basis of each nature was common +sense--shrewd common sense--but such similarity of structure is in +itself apt to lead to much violent shocking of opinion; and to this end +an adjuvant was found in the dose of fantasy, mysticism, idealism which +was inherent in John's character. "Why is he not like other people? Why +will he waste his time with a lot of rubbishy Latin authors? Why will he +not take up his position in the county?" Mrs Norton asked herself these +questions as she fumed on the sofa. + +"I wonder why she will continue to try to impose her will upon mine. I +wonder why she has not found out by this time the uselessness of her +effort. But no; she still keeps on hoping at last to wear me down. She +wants me to live the life she has marked out for me to live--to take up +my position in the county, and, above all, to marry and give an heir to +the property. I see it all; that is why she wanted me to spend Christmas +with her; that is why she has Kitty Hare here to meet me. How cunning, +how mean women are: a man would not do that. Had I known it.... I have a +mind to leave to-morrow. I wonder if the girl is in the little +conspiracy." And turning his head he looked at her. + +Tall and slight, a grey dress, pale as the wet sky, fell from her waist +outward in the manner of a child's frock, and there was a lightness, +there was brightness in the clear eyes. The intense youth of her heart +was evanescent; it seemed constantly rising upwards like the breath of +a spring morning--a morning when the birds are trilling. The face +sharpened to a tiny chin, and the face was pale, although there was +bloom on the cheeks. The forehead was shadowed by a sparkling cloud of +brown hair, the nose was straight, and each little nostril was pink +tinted. The ears were like shells. There was a rigidity in her attitude. +She laughed abruptly, perhaps a little nervously, and the abrupt laugh +revealed the line of tiny white teeth. Thin arms fell straight to the +translucent hands, and there was a recollection of puritan England in +look and in gesture. + +Her picturesqueness calmed John's ebullient discontent; he decided that +she knew nothing of, and was not an accomplice in, his mother's scheme: +For the sake of his guest he strove to make himself agreeable during +dinner, but it was clear that he missed the hierarchy of the college +table. The conversation fell repeatedly. Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke of +making syrup for the bees; and their discussion of the illness of poor +Dr ----, who would no longer be able to get through the work of the +parish single-handed, and would require a curate, was continued till the +ladies rose from table. Nor did matters mend in the library. John's +thoughts went back to his book; the room seemed to him intolerably +uncomfortable and ugly. He went to the billiard-room to smoke a cigar. +It was not clear to him if he would be able to spend two months in this +odious place. He might offer them to God as penance for his sins; if +every evening passed like the present, it were a modern martyrdom. +But had they removed that horrid feather-bed? He went upstairs. The +feather-bed had been removed. + +The room was large and ample, and it was draped with many curtains--pale +curtains covered with walking birds and falling petals, a sort of Indian +pattern. There was a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the toilette-table +hung out its skirts in the wavering light of the fire. John tossed to +and fro staring at the birds and petals. He thought of his ascetic +college bed, of the great Christ upon the wall, of the prie-dieu with +the great rosary hanging, but in vain; he could not rid his mind of the +distasteful feminine influences which had filled the day, and which now +haunted the night. + +After breakfast next morning Mrs Norton stopped John as he was going +upstairs to unpack his books. "Now," she said, "you must go out for a +walk with Kitty Hare, and I hope you will make yourself agreeable. I +want you to see the new greenhouse I have put up; she'll show it to you. +And I told the bailiff to meet you in the yard. I thought you might like +to see him." + +"I wish, mother, you would not interfere in my business; had I wanted to +see Burnes I should have sent for him." + +"If you don't want to see him, he wants to see you. There are some +cottages on the farm that must be put into repair at once. As for +interfering in your business, I don't know how you can talk like that; +were it not for me the whole place would be falling to pieces." + +"Quite true; I know you save me a great deal of expense; but really ..." + +"Really what? You won't go out to walk with Kitty Hare?" + +"I did not say I wouldn't, but I must say that I am very busy just now. +I had thought of doing a little reading, for I have an appointment with +my solicitor in the afternoon." + +"That man charges you £200 a-year for collecting the rents; now, if you +were to do it yourself, you would save the money, and it would give you +something to do." + +"Something to do! I have too much to do as it is.... But if I am going +out with Kitty.... Where is she?" + +"I saw her go into the library a moment ago." + +And as it was preferable to go for a walk with Kitty than to continue +the interview with his mother, John seized his hat and called Kitty, +Kitty, Kitty! Presently she appeared, and they walked towards the +garden, talking. She told him she had been at Thornby Place the whole +time the greenhouse was being built, and when they opened the door they +were greeted by Sammy. He sprang instantly on her shoulder. + +"This is my cat," she said. "I've fed him since he was a little kitten; +isn't he sweet?" + +The girl was beautiful on the brilliant flower background; she stroked +the great caressing creature, and when she put him down he mewed +reproachfully. Further on her two tame rooks cawed joyously, and +alighted on her shoulder. + +"I wonder they don't fly away, and join the others in the trees." + +"One did go away, and he came back nearly dead with hunger. But he is +all right now, aren't you, dear?" And the bird cawed, and rubbed its +black head against its mistress' cheek. "Poor little things, they fell +out of the nest before they could fly, and I brought them up. But you +don't care for pets, do you, John?" + +"I don't like birds!" + +"Don't like birds! Why, that seems as strange as if you said that you +didn't like flowers." + +"Mrs Norton told me, sir, that you would like to speak to me about them +cottages on the Erringham Farm," said the bailiff. + +"Yes, yes, I must go over and see them to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. +I intend to go thoroughly into everything. How are they getting on with +the cottages that were burnt down?" + +"Rather slow, sir, the weather is so bad." + +"But talking of fire, Burnes, I find that I can insure at a much cheaper +rate at Lloyds' than at most of the offices. I find that I shall make a +saving of £20 a-year." + +"That's worth thinking about, sir." + +While the young squire talked to his bailiff Kitty fed her rooks. They +cawed, and flew to her hand for the scraps of meat. The coachman came +to speak about oats and straw. They went to the stables. Kitty adored +horses, it amused John to see her pat them, and her vivacity and +light-heartedness rather pleased him than otherwise. + +Nevertheless, during the whole of the following week the ladies held +little communication with John. He lived apart from them. In the +mornings he went out with his bailiffs to inspect farms and consult +about possible improvement and necessary repairs. He had appointments +with his solicitor. There were accounts to be gone through. He never +paid a bill without verifying every item. It was difficult to say what +should be done with a farm for which a tenant could not be found even +at a reduced rent. At four o'clock he came into tea, his head full of +calculations of such a complex character that even his mother could not +follow the different statements to his satisfaction. When she disagreed +with him, he took up the "Epistles of St Columban of Bangor," the +"Epistola ad Sethum," or the celebrated poem, "Epistola ad Fedolium," +written when the saint was seventy-two, and continued his reading, +making copious notes in a pocket-book. To do so he drew his chair close +to the library fire, and when Kitty came quickly into the room with a +flutter of skirts and a sound of laughter, he awoke from contemplation, +and her singing as she ascended the stairs jarred the dreams of cloister +and choir which mounted from the pages to his brain in clear and +intoxicating rhapsody. + +On the third of November Mrs Norton announced that the meet of the +hounds had been fixed for the fifteenth, and that there would be a hunt +breakfast. + +"Oh, my dear mother! you don't mean that they are coming here to lunch!" + +"For the last twenty years all our side of the county has been in the +habit of coming here to lunch, but of course you can shut your doors to +all your friends and acquaintances. No doubt they will think you have +come down here on purpose to insult them." + +"Insult them! why should I insult them? I haven't seen them since I was +a boy. I remember that the hunt breakfast used to go on all day long. +Every woman in the county used to come, and they used to stay to tea, +and you used to insist on a great number remaining to supper." + +"Well, you can put a stop to all that now that you have consented to +come to Thornby Place, only I hope you don't expect me to remain here to +see my friends insulted." + +"But just think of the expense! and in these bad times. You know I +cannot find a tenant for the Woreington farm. I am afraid I shall have +to provide the capital and farm it myself. Now, in the face of such +losses, don't you think that we should retrench?" + +"Retrench! A few fowls and rounds of beef! You don't think of retrenching +when you present Stanton College with a stained glass window that costs +five hundred pounds." + +"Of course, if you like it, mother..." + +"I like nothing but what you like, but I really think that for you to +put down the hunt breakfast the first time you honour us with a visit, +would look very much as if you intended to insult the whole county." + +"It will be a day of misery for me!" replied John, laughing; "but I +daresay I shall live through it." + +"I think you will like it very much," said Kitty. "There will be a lot +of pretty girls here: the Misses Green are coming from Worthing; the +eldest is such a pretty girl, you are sure to admire her. And the hounds +and horses look so beautiful." + +Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke daily of invitations, and later on of cooking +and the various things that were wanted. John continued to go through +his accounts in the morning, and to read monkish Latin in the evening; +but he was secretly nervous, and he dreaded the approaching day. + +He was called an hour earlier--eight o'clock; he drank a cup of cold tea +and ate a piece of dry toast in a back room. The dining-room was full +of servants, who laid out a long table rich with comestibles and +glittering with glass. Mrs Norton and Kitty were upstairs dressing. + +He wandered into the drawing-room and viewed the dead, cumbrous +furniture; the two cabinets bright with brass and veneer. He stood at +the window staring. It was raining. The yellow of the falling leaves was +hidden in the grey mist. It ceased to rain. "This weather will keep many +away; so much the better; there will be too many as it is. I wonder who +this can be." A melancholy brougham passed up the drive. There were +three old maids, all looking sweetly alike; one was a cripple who walked +with crutches, and her smile was the best and the gayest imaginable +smile. + +"How little material welfare has to do with our happiness," thought +John. "There is one whose path is the narrowest, and she is happier and +better than I." And then the three sweet old maids talked with their +cousin of the weather; and they all wondered--a sweet feminine +wonderment--if he would see a girl that day whom he would marry. + +Presently the house was full of people. The passage was full of girls; a +few men sat at breakfast at the end of the long table. Some red coats +passed across the green glare of the park, and the hounds trotted about +a single horseman. Voices. "Oh! how sweet they look! oh, the dear dogs!" +The huntsman stopped in front of the house, the hounds sniffed here +and there, the whips trotted their horses and drove them back. "Get +together, get together; get back there; Woodland, Beauty, come up here." +The hounds rolled on the grass, and leaned their fore-paws on the +railings, willing to be caressed. + +"How sweet they are, look at their soft eyes," cried an old lady whose +deity was a pug, and whose back garden reeked of the tropics. "Look how +good and kind they are; they would not hurt anything; it is only wicked +men who teach them to be ..." The old lady hesitated before the word +"bad," and murmured something about killing. + +There was a lady with melting eyes, many children, and a long sealskin, +and she availed herself of the excuse of seeing the hounds to rejoin a +young man in whom she was interested. There was an old sportsman of +seventy winters, as hale and as hearty as an oak, standing on the +door-step, and he made John promise to come over and see him. The girls +strolled about in groups. As usual young men were lacking. Looking at +his watch, the huntsman pressed the sides of his horse, and rode to draw +the covers at the end of the park. The ladies followed to see the start, +although the mud was inches deep under foot. "Hu in, hu in," cried the +huntsman. The whips trotted round cracking their long whips. Not a sound +was heard. Suddenly there was a whimper, "Hark to Woodland," cried the +huntsman. The hounds rallied to the point, but nothing came of it. +Apparently the old bitch was at fault. The huntsman muttered something +inaudible. But some few hundred yards further on, in an outlying clump +where no one would expect to find, a fox broke clean away. + +The country is as flat as a smooth sea. Chanctonbury Ring stands up like +a mighty cliff on a northern shore; its crown of trees is grim. The +abrupt ascents of Toddington Mount bear away to the left, and tide-like +the fields flow up into the great gulf between. + +"He's making for the furze, but he'll never reach them; he got no start, +and the ground is heavy." + +Then the watchers saw the horsemen making their way up the chalky roads +cut in the precipitous side of the downs. Rain began to fall, umbrellas +were put up, and all hurried home to lunch. + +"Now John, try and make yourself agreeable, go over and talk to some of +the young ladies. Why do you dress yourself in that way? Have you no +other coat? You look like a young priest. Look at that young man over +there! how nicely dressed he is! I wish you would let your moustache +grow; it would improve you immensely." With these and similar remarks +whispered to him, Mrs Norton continued to exasperate her son until the +servants announced that lunch was ready. "Take in Mrs So-and-so," she +said to John, who would fain have escaped from the melting glances of +the lady in the long sealskin. He offered her his arm with an air of +resignation, and set to work valiantly to carve a huge turkey. + +As soon as the servants had cleared away after one set another came, and +although the meet was a small one, John took six ladies in to lunch. +About half-past three the men adjourned to the billiard-room to smoke. +The girls, mighty in numbers, followed, and, with their arms round each +other's waists, and interlacing fingers, they grouped themselves about +the room. Two huntsmen returned dripping wet, and much to his annoyance, +John had to furnish them with a change of clothes. There was tea in the +drawing-room about five o'clock, and soon after the visitors began to +take their leave. + +The wind blew very coldly, the roosting rooks rose out of the branches, +and the carriages rolled into the night; but still a remnant of visitors +stood on the steps talking to John. His cold was worse; he felt very +ill, and now a long sharp pain had grown through his left side, and +momentarily it became more and more difficult to exchange polite words +and smiles. The footmen stood waiting by the open door, the horses +champed their bits, the green of the park was dark, and a group of +kissing girls moved about the loggia, wheels grated on the gravel ... +all were gone! The butler shut the door, and John went to the library +fire. + +There his mother found him. She saw that something was seriously the +matter. He was helped up to bed, and the doctor was sent for. A bad +attack of pleurisy. John was rolled up in an enormous mustard +plaster--mustard and cayenne pepper; it bit into the flesh. He roared +with pain; he was slightly delirious; he cursed those around him, using +blasphemous language. + +For more than a week he suffered. He lay bent over, unable to +straighten himself, as if a nerve had been wound up too tightly in the +left side. He was fed on gruel and beef-tea, the room was kept very +warm; it was not until the twelfth day that he was taken out of bed. + +"You have had a narrow escape," the doctor said to John, who, well +wrapped up, lay back, looking very weak and pale, before a blazing fire. +"It was very lucky I was sent for. Twenty-four hours later I would not +have answered for your life." + +"I was delirious, was I not?" + +"Yes, slightly; you cursed and swore fearfully at us when we rolled you +up in the mustard plaster.... Well, it was very hot, and must have burnt +you." + +"Yes, it was; it has scarcely left a bit of skin on me. But did I use +very bad language? I suppose I could not help it.... I was delirious, +was I not?" + +"Yes, slightly." + +"Yes; but I remember, and if I remember right, I used very bad +language; and people when they are really delirious do not know what +they say. Is not that so, doctor?" + +"If they are really delirious they do not remember, but you were only +slightly delirious ... you were maddened by the pain occasioned by the +pungency of the plaster." + +"Yes; but do you think I knew what I was saying?" + +"You must have known what you were saying, because you remember what you +said." + +"But could I be held accountable for what I said?" + +"Accountable.... Well, I hardly know what you mean. You were certainly +not in the full possession of your senses. Your mother (Mrs Norton) was +very much shocked, but I told her that you were not accountable for what +you said." + +"Then I could not be held accountable, I did not know what I was +saying." + +"I don't think you did exactly; people in a passion don't know what +they say!" + +"Ah! yes, but we are answerable for sins committed in the heat of +passion: we should restrain our passion; we were wrong in the first +instance in giving way to passion.... But I was ill, it was not exactly +passion. And I was very near death; I had a narrow escape, doctor?" + +"Yes, I think I can call it a narrow escape." + +The voices ceased,--five o'clock,--the curtains were rosy with lamp +light, and conscience awoke in the langours of convalescent hours. "I +stood on the verge of death!" The whisper died away. John was still very +weak, and he had not strength to think with much insistance, but now and +then remembrance surprised him suddenly like pain; it came unexpectedly, +he knew not whence nor how, but he could not choose but listen. Each +interval of thought grew longer; the scabs of forgetfulness were picked +away, the red sore was exposed bleeding and bare. Was he responsible +for those words? He could remember them all now; each like a burning +arrow lacerated his bosom, and he pulled them to and fro. Remembrance +in the watches of the night, dawn fills the dark spaces of a window, +meditations grow more and more lucid. He could now distinguish the +instantaneous sensation of wrong that had flashed on his excited mind in +the moment of his sinning.... Then he could think no more, and in the +twilight of contrition he dreamed vaguely of God's great goodness, of +penance, of ideal atonements. Christ hung on the cross, and far away the +darkness was seared with flames and demons. + +And as strength returned, remembrance of his blasphemies grew stronger +and fiercer, and often as he lay on his pillow, his thoughts passing in +long procession, his soul would leap into intense suffering. "I stood on +the verge of death with blasphemies on my tongue. I might have been +called to confront my Maker with horrible blasphemies in my heart and on +my tongue; but He in His Divine goodness spared me: He gave me time to +repent. Am I answerable, O my God, for those dreadful words that I +uttered against Thee, because I suffered a little pain, against Thee Who +once died on the cross to save me! O God, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy +look down on me, on me! Vouchsafe me Thy mercy, O my God, for I was +weak! My sin is loathsome; I prostrate myself before Thee, I cry aloud +for mercy!" + +Then seeing Christ amid His white million of youths, beautiful singing +saints, gold curls and gold aureoles, lifted throats, and form of harp +and dulcimer, he fell prone in great bitterness on the misery of earthly +life. His happinesses and ambitions appeared to him less than the +scattering of a little sand on the sea-shore. Joy is passion, passion +is suffering; we cannot desire what we possess, therefore desire is +rebellion prolonged indefinitely against the realities of existence; +when we attain the object of our desire, we must perforce neglect it in +favour of something still unknown, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. The winds of folly and desolation howl about us; the sorrows +of happiness are the worst to bear, and the wise soon learn that there +is nothing to dream of but the end of desire.... God is the one ideal, +the Church the one shelter from the misery and meanness of life. Peace +is inherent in lofty arches, rapture in painted panes.... See the mitres +and crosiers, the blood-stained heavenly breasts, the loin-linen hanging +over orbs of light.... Listen! ah! the voices of chanting boys, and out +of the cloud of incense come Latin terminations, and the organ still is +swelling. + +In such religious aestheticisms the soul of John Norton had long +slumbered, but now it awoke in remorse and pain, and, repulsing its +habitual exaltations even as if they were sins, he turned to the primal +idea of the vileness of this life, and its sole utility in enabling man +to gain heaven. Beauty, what was it but temptation? He winced before a +conclusion so repugnant to him, but the terrors of the verge on which +he had so lately stood were still upon him in all their force, and he +crushed his natural feelings.... + +The manifestation of modern pessimism in John Norton has been described, +and how its influence was checked by constitutional mysticity has +also been shown. Schopenhauer, when he overstepped the line ruled by +the Church, was instantly rejected. From him John Norton's faith +had suffered nothing; the severest and most violent shocks had come +from another side--a side which none would guess, so complex and +contradictory are the involutions of the human brain. Hellenism, Greek +culture and ideal; academic groves; young disciples, Plato and Socrates, +the august nakedness of the Gods were equal, or almost equal, in his +mind with the lacerated bodies of meagre saints; and his heart wavered +between the temple of simple lines and the cathedral of a thousand +arches. Once there had been a sharp struggle, but Christ, not Apollo, +had been the victor, and the great cross in the bedroom of Stanton +College overshadowed the beautiful slim body in which Divinity seemed to +circulate like blood; and this photograph was all that now remained of +much youthful anguish and much temptation. + +A fact to note is that his sense of reality had always remained in a +rudimentary state; it was, as it were, diffused over the world and +mankind. For instance, his belief in the misery and degradation of +earthly life, and the natural bestiality of man, was incurable; but of +this or that individual he had no opinion; he was to John Norton a blank +sheet of paper, to which he could not affix even a title. His childhood +had been one of bitter tumult and passionate sorrow; the different and +dissident ideals growing up in his heart and striving for the mastery, +had torn and tortured him, and he had long lain as upon a mental rack. +Ignorance of the material laws of existence had extended even into his +sixteenth year, and when, bit by bit, the veil fell, and he understood, +he was filled with loathing of life and mad desire to wash himself +free of its stain; and it was this very hatred of natural flesh that +precipitated a perilous worship of the deified flesh of the God. But +mysticity saved him from plain paganism, and the art of the Gothic +cathedral grew dear to him. It was nearer akin to him, and he assuaged +his wounded soul in the ecstacies of incense and the great charms of +Gregorian chant. + +But fear now for the first time took possession of him, and he +realised--if not in all its truth, at least in part--that his love of +God had only taken the form of a gratification of the senses, a +sensuality higher but as intense as those which he so much reproved. +Fear smouldered in his very entrails, and doubt fumed and went out like +steam--long lines and falling shadows and slowly dispersing clouds. His +life had been but a sin, an abomination, and the fairest places darkened +as the examination of conscience proceeded. His thought whirled in +dreadful night, soul-torturing contradictions came suddenly under his +eyes, like images in a night-mare; and in horror and despair, as a woman +rising from a bed of small-pox drops the mirror after the first glance, +and shrinks from destroying the fair remembrance of her face by pursuing +the traces of the disease through every feature, he hid his face in his +hands and called for forgiveness--for escape from the endless record of +his conscience. With staring eyes and contracted brows he saw the flames +which await him who blasphemes. To the verge of those flames he had +drifted. If God in His infinite mercy had not withheld him?... He +pictured himself lost in fires and furies. Then looking up he saw the +face of Christ, grown pitiless in final time--Christ standing immutable +amid His white million of youths.... + +And the worthlessness and the abjectness of earthly life struck him with +awful and all-convincing power, and this vision of the worthlessness of +existence was clearer than any previous vision. He paused. There was but +one conclusion ... it looked down upon him like a star--he would become a +priest. All darkness, all madness, all fear faded, and with sure and +certain breath he breathed happiness; the sense of consecration nestled +in its heart, and its light shone upon his face. + +There was nothing in the past, but there is the sweetness of meditation +in the present, and in the future there is God. Like a fountain flowing +amid a summer of leaves and song, the sweet hours came with quiet and +melodious murmur. In the great arm-chair of his ancestors he sits thin +and tall. Thin and tall. The great flames decorate the darkness, and the +twilight sheds upon the rose curtains, walking birds and falling petals. +But his thoughts are dreaming through long aisle and solemn arch, clouds +of incense and painted panes.... The palms rise in great curls like the +sky; and amid the opulence of gold vestments, the whiteness of the +choir, the Latin terminations and the long abstinences, the holy oil +comes like a kiss that never dies ... and in full glory of symbol and +chant, the very savour of God descends upon him ... and then he awakes, +surprised to find such dreams out of sleep. + +His resolve did not alter; he longed for health because it would bring +the realisation of his desire, and time appeared to him cruelly long. +Nor could he think of the pain he inflicted on his mother, so centred +was he in this thought; he was blind to her sorrowing face, he was deaf +to her entreaty; he could neither feel nor see beyond the immediate +object he had in mind, and he spoke to her in despair of the length of +months that separated him from consecration; he speculated on the +possibility of expediting that happy day by a dispensation from the +Pope. The moment he could obtain permission from the doctor he ordered +his trunks to be packed, and when he bid Mrs Norton and Kitty Hare +good-bye, he exacted a promise from the former to be present at Stanton +College on Palm Sunday. He wished her to be present when he embraced +Holy Orders. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Every morning Mrs Norton flung her black shawl over her shoulders, +rattled her keys, and scolded the servants at the end of the long +passage. Kitty, as she watered the flowers in the greenhouse, often +wondered why John had chosen to become a priest and grieve his mother. +Three times out of five when the women met at lunch, Mrs Norton said: + +"Kitty, would you like to come out for a drive?" + +Kitty answered, "I don't mind; just as you like, Mrs Norton." + +After tea at five Kitty read for an hour, and in the evening she played +the piano; and she sometimes endeavoured to console her hostess by +suggesting that people did change their minds, and that John might not +become a priest after all. Mrs Norton looked at the girl, and it was +often on her lips to say, "If you had only flirted, if you had only paid +him some attentions, all might have been different." But heart-broken +though she was, Mrs Norton could not speak the words. The girl looked so +candid, so flowerlike in her guilelessness, that the thought seemed a +pollution. And in a few days Mr Hare sent for Kitty; and with her +departed the last ray of sunlight, and Thornby Place grew too sad and +solitary for Mrs Norton. + +She went to visit some friends; she spent Christmas at the Rectory; and +in the long evenings when Kitty had gone to bed, she opened her heart +to her old friend. The last hope was gone; there was nothing for her to +look for now. John did not even write to her; she had not heard from him +since he left. It was very wrong of the Jesuits to encourage him in such +conduct, and she thought of laying the whole matter before the Pope. The +order had once been suppressed; she did not remember by what Pope; but +a Pope had grown tired of their intrigues, and had suppressed the order. +She made these accusations in moments of passion, and immediately after +came deep regret.... How wrong of her to speak ill of her religion, and +to a Protestant! If John did become a priest it would be a punishment +for her sins. But what was she saying? If John became a priest, she +should thank God for His great goodness. What greater honour could he +bestow upon her? Next day she took the train to Brighton, and went to +confession; and that very same evening she pleadingly suggested to Mr +Hare that he should go to Stanton College, and endeavour to persuade +John to return home. The parson was of course obliged to decline. He +advised her to leave the matter in the hands of God, and Mrs Norton went +to bed a prey to scruples of conscience of all kinds. + +She even began to think it wrong to remain any longer in an essentially +Protestant atmosphere. But to return to Thornby Place alone was +impossible, and she begged for Kitty. The parson was loth to part with +his daughter, but he felt there was much suffering beneath the calm +exterior that Mrs Norton preserved. He could refuse her nothing, and he +let Kitty go. + +"There is no reason why you should not come and dine with us every day; +but I shall not let you have her back for the next two months." + +"What day will you come and see us, father dear?" said Kitty, leaning +out of the carriage window. + +"On Thursday," cried the parson. + +"Very well, we shall expect you," replied Mrs Norton; and with a sigh +she sank back on the cushions, and fell to thinking of her son. + +At Thornby Place everything was soon discovered to be in a sad state of +neglect. There was much work to be done in the greenhouse, the azaleas +were being devoured by insects, and the leaves required a thorough +washing. It was easy to see that the cats had not been regularly fed, +and one of the tame rooks had flown away. Remedying these disasters, +Mrs Norton and Kitty hurried to and fro. There was a ball at Steyning, +and Mrs Norton consented to do the chaperon for once; and the girl's +dress was a subject of gossip for a month--for a fortnight an absorbing +occupation. Most of the people who had been at the hunt breakfast were +at the ball, and Kitty had plenty of partners. These suggested husbands +to Mrs Norton, and she questioned Kitty; but she did not seem to have +thought of the ball except in the light of a toy which she had been +allowed to play with one evening. The young men she had met there had +apparently interested her no more than if they had been girls, and she +regretted John only because of Mrs Norton. Every morning she ran to see +if there was a letter, so that it might be she who brought the good +news. But no letter came. Since Christmas John had written two short +notes, and now they were well on in April. But one morning as she stood +watching the springtide, Kitty saw him walking up the drive; the sky +was growing bright with blue, and the beds were catching flower beneath +the evergreen oaks. She ran to Mrs Norton, who was attending to the +canaries in the bow-window. + +"Look, look, Mrs Norton, John is coming up the drive; it is he; look!" + +"John!" said Mrs Norton, seeking for her glasses nervously; "yes, so it +is; let's run and meet him. But no; let's take him rather coolly. I +believe half his eccentricity is only put on because he wishes to +astonish us. We won't ask him any questions; we'll just wait and let him +tell his own story...." + +"How do you do, mother?" said the young man, kissing Mrs Norton with +less reluctance than usual. "You must forgive me for not having answered +your letters. It really was not my fault; I have been passing through a +very terrible state of mind lately.... And how do you do, Kitty? Have +you been keeping my mother company ever since? It is very good in you; +I am afraid you must think me a very undutiful son. But what is the +news?" + +"One of the rooks is gone." + +"Is that all?... What about the ball at Steyning? I hear it was a great +success." + +"Oh, it was delightful." + +"You must tell me about it after dinner. Now I must go round to the +stables and tell Walls to take the trap round to the station to fetch my +things." + +"Are you going to be here some time?" said Mrs Norton, assuming an +indifferent air. + +"Yes, I think so; that is to say, for a couple of months--six weeks. I +have some arrangements to make, but I will speak to you about all that +after dinner." + +With these words John left the room, and he left his mother agitated and +frightened. + +"What can he mean by having arrangements to make?" she asked. Kitty +could of course suggest no explanation, and the women waited the +pleasure of the young man to speak his mind. He seemed, however, in +no hurry to do so; and the manner in which he avoided the subject +aggravated his mother's uneasiness. At last she said, unable to bear the +suspense any longer: + +"Are you going to be a priest, John, dear?" + +"Of course, but not a Jesuit...." + +"And why? have you had a quarrel with the Jesuits?" + +"Oh, no; never mind; I don't like to talk about it; not exactly a +quarrel, but I have seen a great deal of them lately, and I have found +them out. I don't mean in anything wrong, but the order is so entirely +opposed to the monastic spirit. It is difficult to explain; I really +can't.... What I mean is ... well, that their worldliness is repugnant to +me--fashionable friends, confidences, meddling in family affairs, dining +out, letters from ladies who need consolation.... I don't mean anything +wrong; pray don't misunderstand me. I merely mean to say that I hate +their meddling in family affairs. Their confessional is a kind of +marriage bureau; they have always got some plan on for marrying this +person to that, and I must say I hate all that sort of thing.... If I +were a priest I would disdain to ... but perhaps I am wrong to speak like +that. Yes, it is very wrong of me, and before ... Kitty, you must not +think I am speaking against the principles of my religion, I am only +speaking of matters of--" + +"And have you given up your rooms in Stanton College?" + +"Not yet; that is to say, nothing is settled definitely, but I do not +think I shall go back there; at least not to live." + +"And you still are determined on becoming a priest?" + +"Certainly, but not a Jesuit." + +"What then?" + +"A Carmelite. I have seen a great deal of these monks lately, and it is +only they who preserve some of the old spirit of the old ideal. To enter +the Carmelite Chapel in Kensington is to step out of the mean +atmosphere of to-day into the lofty charm of the Middle Ages. The long +straight folds of habits falling over sandalled feet, the great rosaries +hanging down from the girdles, the smell of burning wax, the large +tonsures, the music of the choir; I know nothing like it. Last Sunday I +heard them sing St Fortunatus' hymn,... the _Vexilla regis_ heard in the +cloud of incense, and the wrath of the organ!... splendid are the rhymes! +the first stanza in U and O, the second in A, and the third in E; +passing over the closed vowels, the hymn ascends the scale of sound--" + +"Now, John, none of that nonsense; how dare you, sir? Don't attempt to +laugh at your mother." + +"My dear mother, you must not think I am sneering because I speak of +what is uppermost in my mind. I have determined to become a Carmelite +monk, and that is why I came down here." + +Mrs Norton was very angry; her temper fumed, and she would have burst +into violent words had not the last words, "and that is why I came down +here," frightened her into calmness. + +"What do you mean?" she said, turning round in her chair. "You came down +here to become a Carmelite monk; what do you mean?" + +John hesitated. He was clearly a little frightened, but having gone so +far he felt he must proceed. Besides, to-day, or to-morrow, sooner or +later the truth would have to be told. He said: + +"I intend altering the house a little here and there; you know how +repugnant this mock Italian architecture is to my feelings.... I am +coming to live here with some monks--" + +"You must be mad, sir; you mean to say that you intend to pull down the +house of your ancestors and turn it into a monastery?" + +John drew a breath of relief, the worst was over now; she had spoken the +fulness of his thought. Yes, he was going to turn Thornby Place into a +monastery. + +"Yes," he said, "if you like to put it in that way. Yes, I am going to +turn Thornby Place into a monastery. Why shouldn't I? I am resolved +never to marry; and I have no one except those dreadful cousins to leave +the place to. Why shouldn't I turn it into a monastery and become a +monk? I wish to save my soul." + +Mrs Norton groaned. + +"But you make me say more than I mean. To turn the place into a Gothic +monastery, such a monastery as I dreamed would not be possible, unless +indeed I pulled the whole place down, and I have not sufficient money to +do that, and I do not wish to mortgage the property. For the present I +am determined only on a few alterations. I have them all in my head. The +billiard room, that addition of yours, can be turned into a chapel. And +the casements of the dreadful bow-window might be removed, and mullions +and tracery fixed on, and, instead of the present flat roof, a sloping +tiled roof might be carried up against the wall of the house. The +cloisters would come at the back of the chapel." + +John stopped aghast at the sorrow he was causing, and he looked at his +mother. She did not speak. Her ears were full of merciless ruins; hope +vanished in the white dust; and the house with its memories sacred and +sweet fell pitilessly: beams lying this way and that, the piece of +exposed wall with the well-known wall paper, the crashing of slates. How +they fall! John's heart was rent with grief, but he could not stay his +determination any more than his breath. Youth is a season of suffering, +we cannot surrender our desire, and it lies heavy and burning on our +hearts. It is so easy for age, so hard for youth to make sacrifices. +Youth is and must be wholly, madly selfish; it is not until we have +learnt the folly of our aims that we may forget them, that we may pity +the sufferings of others, that we may rejoice in the triumphs of our +friends. To the superficial therefore, John Norton will appear but the +incarnation of egotism and priggishness, but those who see deeper will +have recognised that he is one who has suffered bitterly, as bitterly +as the outcast who lies dead in his rags beneath the light of the +policeman's lantern. Mental and physical wants!--he who may know one may +not know the other: is not the absence of one the reason of the other? +Mental and physical wants! the two planes of suffering whence the great +divisions of mankind view and envy the other's destinies, as we view a +passing pageant, as those who stand on the decks of crossing ships gaze +regretfully back. + +Those who have suffered much physical want will never understand John +Norton; he will find commiseration only from those who have realised _à +priori_ the worthlessness of existence, the vileness of life; above all, +from those who, conscious of a sense of life's degradation, impetuously +desire their ideal--the immeasurable ideal which lies before them, +clear, heavenly, and crystalline; the sea into which they would plunge +their souls, but in whose benedictive waters they may only dip their +fingertips, and crossing themselves, pass up the aisle of human +tribulation. We suffer in proportion to our passions. But John Norton +had no passion, say they who see passion only in carnal dissipation. Yet +the passions of the spirit are more terrible than those of the flesh; +the passion for God, the passion of revolt against the humbleness of +life; and there is no peace until passion of whatever kind has wailed +itself out. + +Foolish are they who describe youth as a time of happiness; it is one of +fever and anguish. + +Beneath its apparent calm, there was never a stormier youth than John's. +The boy's heart that grieves to death for a chorus-girl, the little +clerk who mourns to madness for the bright life that flashes from the +point of sight of his high office stool, never felt more keenly the +nervous pain of desire and the lassitudes of resistance. You think John +Norton did not suffer in his imperious desire to pull down the home of +his fathers and build a monastery! Mrs Norton's grief was his grief, but +to stem the impulse that bore him along was too keen a pain to be +endured. His desire whelmed him like a wave; it filled his soul like a +perfume, and against his will it rose to his lips in words. Even when +the servants were present he could not help discussing the architectural +changes he had determined upon, and as the vision of the cloister, with +its reading and chanting monks, rose to his head, he talked, blinded by +strange enthusiasm, of latticed windows, and sandals. + +His mother bit her thin lips, and her face tightened in an expression of +settled grief. Kitty was sorry for Mrs Norton, but Kitty was too young +to understand, and her sorrow evaporated in laughter. She listened to +John's explanations of the future as to a fairy tale suddenly touched +with the magic of realism. That the old could not exist in conjunction +with the new order of things never grew into the painful precision of +thought in her mind. She saw but the show side; she listened as to an +account of private theatricals, and in spite of Mrs Norton's visible +grief, she was amused when John described himself walking at the head +of his monks with tonsured head and a great rosary hanging from a +leather girdle. Her innocent gaiety attracted her to him. As they walked +about the grounds after breakfast, he spoke to her about pictures and +statues, of a trip he intended to take to Italy and Spain, and he did +not seem to care to be reminded that this jarred with his project for +immediate realisation of Thornby Priory. + +Leaning their backs against the iron railing which divided the green +sward from the park, John and Kitty looked at the house. + +"From this view it really is not so bad, though the urns and the loggia +are so intolerably out of keeping with the landscape. But when I have +made my alterations it will harmonise with the downs and the +flat-flowing country, so English with its barns and cottages and rich +agriculture, and there will be then a charming recollection of old +England, the England of the monastic ages, before the--but I forgot, I +must not speak to you on that subject." + +"Do you think the house will look prettier than it does now? Mrs Norton +says that it will be impossible to alter Italian architecture into +Gothic.... Of course I don't understand." + +"Mother does not know what she is talking about. I have it all down in +my pocket-book. I have various plans.... I admit it is not easy, but +last night I fancy I hit on an idea. I shall of course consult an +architect, although really I don't see there is any necessity for so +doing, but just to be on the safe side; for in architecture there are +many practical difficulties, and to be on the safe side I will consult +an experienced man regarding the practical working out of my design. I +made this drawing last night." John produced a large pocket-book. + +"But, oh, how pretty; will it be really like that?" + +"Yes," exclaimed John, delighted; "it will be exactly like that; but I +will read you my notes, and then you will understand it better. + +"_Alter and add to the front to represent the façade of a small +cathedral. This can be done by building out a projection the entire +width of the building, and one storey in height. This will be divided +into three arched divisions, topped with small gables_." + +"What are gables, John?" + +"Those are the gables. _The centre one (forming entrance) being rather +higher than the other gables. The entrance would be formed with +clustered columns and richly moulded pointed arches, the door being +solid, heavy oak, with large scroll and hammered iron hinges_. + +"_The centre front and back would be carried up to form steep gables, +the roof being heightened to match. The large gable in front to have a +large cross at apex_." + +"What is an apex? What words you do use." + +John explained, Kitty laughed. + +"The top I have indicated in the drawing. _And to have a rose window_. +You see the rose window in the drawing," said John, anticipating the +question which was on Kitty's lips. + +"Yes," said she, "but why don't you say a round window?" + +Without answering John continued: + +"_The first floor fronts would be arcaded round with small columns with +carved capitals and pointed arches. + +"At either corner of front, in lieu of present Ionic columns, carry up +octagonal turrets with pinnacles at top_. + +"You see them in the drawing. These are the octagonal turrets." + +"And which are the pinnacles?" + +"The ornaments at the top. + +"_From the centre of the roof carry up a square tower with battlemented +parapets and pinnacles at all corners, and flying buttresses from the +turrets of the main buildings_. + +"_The bow window at side will have the old casements removed, and have +mullions and tracery fixed and filled with cathedral glazings, and, +instead of the present flat, a sloping roof will be carried up and +finished against the outer wall of the house. At either side of bay +window buttresses with moulded water-tables, plinths, &c._ + +"_From these roofs and the front projections at intersection of small +gables, carved gargoyles to carry off water_. + +"_The billiard-room to be converted into a chapel, by building a new +high-pitched roof_." + +"Oh, John, why should you do away with the billiard-room; why shouldn't +the monks play billiards? You played billiards on the day of the meet." + +"Yes, but I am not a monk yet. No one ever heard of monks playing +billiards; besides, that dreadful addition of my mother's could not +remain in its present form, it would be ludicrous to a degree, whereas +it can be converted very easily into a chapel. We must have a +chapel--_building a high-pitched timber roof, throwing out an apse at +the end, and putting in mullioned and traceried windows filled with +stained glass_." + +"And the cloister you are always speaking about, where will that be?" + +"The cloister will come at the back of the chapel, and an arched and +vaulted ambulatory will be laid round the house. Later on I shall add a +refectory, and put a lavatory at one end of the ambulatory." + +"But don't you think, John, you may get tired of being a monk, and then +the house will have to be built back again." + +"Never, the house will be from every point of view, a better house when +my alterations are carried into effect. Beside, why should I be tired of +being a monk? Your father does not get tired of being a parson." + +This reply, although singularly unconvincing, was difficult to answer, +and the conversation fell. And day by day, John's schemes strengthened +and took shape, and he seemed to look upon himself already as a +Carmelite. He had even gone so far as to order a habit, it had arrived +a few days ago; and an architect, too, had come down from London. He +was the ray of hope in Mrs Norton's life. For although he had loudly +commended the artistic taste exhibited in the drawing, and expressed +great wonderment at John's architectural skill, he had, nevertheless, +when questioned as to their practicability, declared the scheme to be +wholly impossible. And the reasons he advanced in support of his +opinions were so conclusive that John was fain to beg of him to draw up +a more possible plan for the conversion of an Italian house into a +Gothic monastery. + +Mr ---- seemed to think the idea a wild one, but he promised to see what +could be done to overcome the difficulties he foresaw, and in a week +he forwarded John several drawings for his consideration. Judged by +comparison with John's dreams, the practical architecture of the +experienced man seemed altogether lacking in expression and in poetry +of proportion; and comparing them with his own cherished project, John +hung over the billiard-table, where the drawings were laid out, hour +after hour, only to rise more bitterly fretful, more utterly unable than +usual to reconcile himself to natural limitation, more hopelessly +longing for the unattainable. + +He could think of nothing but his monastery; his Latin authors were +forgotten; he drew façades and turrets on the cloth during dinner, and +he went up to his room, not to bed, but to reconsider the difficulties +that rendered the construction of a central tower an impossibility. + +Midnight: the house seems alive in the silence: night is on the world. +The twilight sheds on the walking birds, on the falling petals, and in +the rich shadow the candle burns brightly. The great bridal bed yawns, +the lace pillows lie wide, the curtains hang dreamily in the hallowed +light. John leans over his drawings. Once again he takes up the +architect's notes. + +"_The interior would be so constructed as to make it impossible to +carry up the central tower. The outer walls would not be strong enough +to take the large gables and roof. Although the chapel could be done +easily, the ambulatory would be of no use, as it would lead probably +from the kitchen offices._ + +"_Would have to reduce work on front façade to putting in new arched +entrance. Buttresses would take the place of columns_. + +"_The bow-window could remain_. + +"_The roof to be heightened somewhat. The front projection would throw +the front rooms into almost total darkness_." + +"But why not a light timber lantern tower?" thought John. "Yes, that +would get over the difficulty. Now if we could only manage to keep my +front ... if my design for the front cannot be preserved, I might as well +abandon the whole thing! And then?" + +And then life seemed to him void of meaning and light. He might as well +settle down and marry.... + +His face contracted in an expression of anger. He rose from the table, +and he looked round the room. Its appearance was singularly jarring, +shattering as it did his dream of the cloister, and up-building in fancy +the horrid fabric of marriage and domesticity. The room seemed to him a +symbol--with the great bed, voluptuous, the corpulent arm-chair, the +toilet-table shapeless with muslin--of the hideous laws of the world +and the flesh, ever at variance and at war, and ever defeating the +indomitable aspirations of the soul. John ordered his room to be +changed; and, in the face of much opposition from his mother, who +declared that he would never be able to sleep there, and would lose his +health, he selected a narrow room at the end of the passage. He would +have no carpet. He placed a small iron bed against the wall; two plain +chairs, a screen to keep off the draught from the door, a basin-stand +such as you might find in a ship's cabin, and a prie-dieu, were all the +furniture he permitted himself. + +"Oh, what a relief!" he murmured. "Now there is line, there is definite +shape. That formless upholstery frets my eye as false notes grate on my +ear;" and, becoming suddenly conscious of the presence of God, he fell +on his knees and prayed. He prayed that he might be guided aright in his +undertaking, and that, if it were conducive to the greater honour and +glory of God, he might be permitted to found a monastery, and that he +might be given strength to surmount all difficulties. + +Next morning, calm in mind, and happier, he went downstairs to the +drawing-room, a small book in his hand, an historical work of great +importance by the Venerable Bede, intitled _Vita beatorum abbatum +Wiremuthensium, et Girvensiuem, Benedicti Ceolfridi, Easteriwini, +Sigfridi atque Hoetberti_. But he could not keep his attention fixed on +the book, it appeared to him dreary and stupid. His thoughts wandered. +He thought of Kitty--of how beautiful she looked on the background of +red geraniums, with the soft yellow cat on her shoulder, and he wondered +which of the four great painters, Manet, Degas, Monet, or Renoir would +have best rendered the brightness and lightness, the intense colour +vitality of that motive for a picture. He thought of her young eyes, of +the pale hands, of the sudden, sharp laugh; and finally he took up one +of her novels, "Red as a Rose is She." He read it, and found it very +entertaining. + +But the evening post brought him a letter from the architect's head +clerk, saying that Mr ---- was ill, had not been to the office for the +last three or four days, and would not be able to go down to Sussex +again before the end of the month. Very much annoyed, John spent the +evening thinking whom he could consult on the practicability of his last +design for the front, and next, morning he was surprised at not seeing +Kitty at breakfast. + +"Where is Kitty?" he asked abruptly. + +"She is not feeling well; she has a headache, and will not be down +to-day." + +At the end of a long silence, John said: + +"I think I will go into Brighton.... I must really see an architect." + +"Oh, John, dear, you are not really determined to pull the house down?" + +"There is no use, mother dear, in our discussing that subject; each and +all of us must do the best we can with life. And the best we can do is +to try and gain heaven." + +"Breaking your mother's heart, and making yourself ridiculous before the +whole county, is not the way to gain heaven." + +"Oh, if you are going to talk like that...." + +John went into the drawing-room to continue his reading, but the Latin +bored him even more than it had done yesterday. He took up the novel, +but its enchantment was gone, and it appeared to him in its tawdry, +original vulgarity. He got on a horse and rode towards the downs, and +went up the steep ascents at a gallop. He stood amid the gorse at the +top and viewed the great girdle of blue encircling sea, and the long +string of coast towns lying below him, and far away. Lunch was on the +table when he returned. After lunch, harassed by an obsession of +architectural plans, he went out to sketch. But it rained, and resisting +his mother's invitation to change his clothes, he sat down before the +fire, damp without, and feverishly irritable within. He vacillated an +hour between his translation of St Fortunatus' hymn, _Quem terra, pontus +aethera_, and "Red as a Rose is She," which, although he thought it as +reprehensible for moral as for literary reasons, he was fain to follow +out to the vulgar end. But he could interest himself in neither hymn nor +novel. For the authenticity of the former he now cared not a jot, and he +threw the book aside vowing that its hoydenish heroine was unbearable +and he would read no more. + +"I never knew a more horrible place to live in than Sussex. Either of +two things: I must alter the architecture of this house, or I must +return to Stanton College." + +"Don't talk nonsense, do you think I don't know you? you are boring +yourself because Kitty is upstairs in bed, and cannot walk about with +you." + +"I do not know how you contrive, mother, always to say the most +disagreeable possible things; the marvellous way in which you pick out +what will, at the moment, wound me most is truly wonderful. I compliment +you on your skill, but I confess I am at a loss to understand why you +should, as if by right, expect me to remain here to serve continuously +as a target for the arrows of your scorn." + +John walked out of the room. During dinner mother and son spoke very +little, and he retired early, about ten o'clock, to his room. He was in +high dudgeon, but the white walls, the prie-dieu, the straight, narrow +bed were pleasant to see. His room was the first agreeable impression +of the day. He picked up a drawing from the table, it seemed to him +awkward and slovenly. He sharpened his pencil, cleared his crow-quill +pens, got out his tracing-paper, and sat down to execute a better. But +he had not finished his outline sketch before he leaned back in his +chair, and as if overcome by the insidious warmth of the fire, lapsed +into fire-light attitudes and meditations. + +He looked a little backwards into the blaze; he nibbled his pencil +point. Wavering light and wavering shade followed fast over the Roman +profile, followed and flowed fitfully--fitfully as his thoughts. Now his +thought followed out architectural dreams, and now he thought of +himself, of his unhappy youth, of how he had been misunderstood, of his +solitary life; a bitter, unsatisfactory life, and yet a life not wanting +in an ideal--a glorious ideal. He thought how his projects had always +met with failure, with disapproval, above all failure ... and yet, and +yet he felt, he almost knew there was something great and noble in him. +His eyes brightened; he slipped into thinking of schemes for a monastic +life; and then he thought of his mother's hard disposition and how she +misunderstood him,--everyone misunderstood him. What would the end be? +Would he succeed in creating the monastery he dreamed of so fondly? To +reconstruct the ascetic life of the Middle Ages, that would be something +worth doing, that would be a great ideal--that would make meaning in his +life. If he failed ... what should he do then? His life as it was, was +unbearable ... he must come to terms with life.... + +That central tower! how could he manage it! and that built-out front. +Was it true, as the architect said, that it would throw all the front +rooms into darkness? Without this front his design would be worthless. +What a difference it made! + +Kitty liked it. She had thought it charming. How young she was, how +glad and how innocent, and how clever, her age being taken into +consideration. She understood all you said. It would not surprise him if +she developed into something: but she would marry.... + +But why was he thinking of her? What concern had she in his life? A +little slip of a girl--a girl--a girl more or less pretty, that was all. +And yet it was pleasant to hear her laugh. That low, sudden laugh--she +was pleasanter company than his mother, she was pleasant to have in the +house, she interrupted many an unpleasant scene. Then he remembered what +his mother had said. She had said that he was disappointed that she was +ill, that he had missed her, that ... that it was because she was not +there that he had found the day so intolerably wearisome. + +Struck as with a dagger, the pain of the wound flowed through him +piercingly; and as a horse stops and stands trembling, for there is +something in the darkness beyond, John shrank back, his nerves +vibrating like highly-strung chords; and ideas--notes of regret and +lamentation died in great vague spaces. Ideas fell.... Was this all; was +this all he had struggled for; was he in love? A girl, a girl ... was a +girl to soil the ideal he had in view? No; he smiled painfully. The sea +of his thoughts grew calmer, the air grew dim and wan, a tall foundered +wreck rose pale and spectral, memories drifted. The long walks, the +talks of the monastery, the neighbours, the pet rooks, and Sammy the +great yellow cat, and the green-houses ... he remembered the pleasure he +had taken in those conversations! + +What must all this lead to? To a coarse affection, to marriage, to +children, to general domesticity. + +And contrasted with this.... + +The dignified and grave life of the cloister, the constant sensation of +lofty and elevating thought, a high ideal, the communion of learned men, +the charm of headship. + +Could he abandon this? No, a thousand times no; but there was a melting +sweetness in the other cup. The anticipation filled his veins with +fever. + +And trembling and pale with passion, John fell on his knees and prayed +for grace. But prayer was sour and thin upon his lips, and he could only +beg that the temptation might pass from him.... + +"In the morning," he said, "I shall be strong." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But if in the morning he were strong, Kitty was more beautiful than +ever, and they walked out in the sunlight. They walked out on the green +sward, under the evergreen oaks where the young rooks are swinging; out +on the mundane swards into the pleasure ground; a rosery and a rockery; +the pleasure ground divided from the park by iron railings, the park +encircled by the rich elms, the elms shutting out the view of the lofty +downs. + +The meadows are yellow with buttercups, and the birds fly out of the +gold. And the golden note is prolonged through the pleasure grounds by +the pale yellow of the laburnums, by the great yellow of the berberis, +by the cadmium yellow of the gorse, by the golden wallflowers growing +amid rhododendrons and laurels. + +And the transparent greenery of the limes shivers, and the young rooks +swinging on the branches caw feebly. + +And about the rockery there are purple bunches of lilac, and the striped +awning of the tennis seat touches with red the paleness of the English +spring. + +Pansies, pale yellow pansies! + +The sun glinting on the foliage of the elms spreads a napery of vivid +green, and the trunks come out black upon the cloth of gold, and the +larks fly out of the gold, and the sky is a single sapphire, and two +white clouds are floating. It is May time. + +They walked toward the tennis seat with its red striped awning. They +listened to the feeble cawing of young rooks swinging on the branches. +They watched the larks nestle in, and fly out of the gold. It was May +time, and the air was bright with buds and summer bees. She was dressed +in white, and the shadow of the straw hat fell across her eyes when she +raised her face. He was dressed in black, and the clerical frock coat +buttoned by one button at the throat fell straight. + +They sat under the red striped awning of the tennis seat. The large +grasping hands holding the polished cane contrasted with the reedy +translucent hands laid upon the white folds. The low sweet breath of the +May time breathed within them, and their hearts were light; hers was +conscious only of the May time, but his was awake with unconscious love, +and he yielded to her, to the perfume of the garden, to the absorbing +sweetness of the moment. He was no longer John Norton. His being was +part of the May time; it had gone forth and had mingled with the colour +of the fields and sky; with the life of the flowers, with all vague +scents and sounds; with the joy of the birds that flew out of and +nestled with amorous wings in the gold. Enraptured and in complete +forgetfulness of his vows, he looked at her, he felt his being +quickening, and the dark dawn of a late nubility radiated into manhood. + +"How beautiful the day is," he said, speaking slowly. "Is it not all +light and colour, and you in your white dress with the sunlight on your +hair seem more blossom-like than any flower. I wonder what flower I +should compare you to.... Shall I say a rose? No, not a rose, nor a +lily, nor a violet; you remind me rather of a tall delicate pale +carnation...." + +"Why, John, I never heard you speak like that before; I thought you +never paid compliments." + +The transparent green of the limes shivers, the young rooks caw feebly, +and the birds nestle with amorous wings in the blossoming gold. Kitty +has taken off her straw hat, the sunlight caresses the delicate +plenitudes of the bent neck, the delicate plenitudes bound with white +cambric, cambric swelling gently over the bosom into the narrow circle +of the waist, cambric fluted to the little wrist, reedy translucid +hands; cambric falling outwards and flowing like a great white flower +over the green sward, over the mauve stocking, and the little shoe set +firmly. The ear is as a rose leaf, a fluff of light hair trembles on the +curving nape, and the head is crowned with thick brown gold. "O to bathe +my face in those perfumed waves! O to kiss with a deep kiss the hollow +of that cool neck!..." The thought came he know not whence nor how, as +lightning falls from a clear sky, as desert horsemen come with a glitter +of spears out of the cloud; there is a shock, a passing anguish, and +they are gone. + +He left her. So frightened was he at this sudden and singular obsession +of his spiritual nature by a lower and grosser nature, whose existence +in himself was till now unsuspected, and of whose life and wants in +others he had felt, and still felt, so much scorn, that in the tumult of +his loathing he could not gain the calm of mind necessary for an +examination of conscience. He could not look into his mind with any +present hope of obtaining a truthful reply to the very eminent and vital +question, how far his will had participated in that burning but wholly +inexcusable desire by which he had been so shockingly assailed. + +That inner life, so strangely personal and pure, and of which he was so +proud, seemed to him now to be befouled, and all its mystery and inner +grace, and the perfect possession which was his sanctuary, lost to him +for ever. For he could never quite forget the defiling thought; it would +always remain with him, and the consciousness of the stain would +preclude all possibility of that refining happiness, that attribute of +cleanliness, which he now knew had long been his. In his anger and +self-loathing his rage turned against Kitty. It was always the same +story--the charm and ideality of man's life always soiled by woman's +influence; so it was in the beginning, so it shall be.... + +He stopped before the injustice of the accusation; he remembered her +candour and her gracious innocence, and he was sorry; and he remembered +her youth and her beauty, and he let his thoughts dwell upon her. +Turning over his papers he came across the old monk's song to David: + + "Surge meo domno dulces fac, fistula versus: + David amat versus, surge fac fistula versus, + David amat vates vatorum est gloria David...." + +The verses seemed meaningless and tame, but they awoke vague impulses in +him, and, his mind filled by a dim dream of King David and Bathsheba, he +opened his Bible and turned over the pages, reading a phrase here and +there until he had passed from story and psalm to the Song of songs, and +was finally stopped by--"I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye +find my beloved, that ye tell him that I am sick of love." + +He laid the book down and leaned back in his chair, and holding his +temple with one hand (this was his favourite attitude) he looked in the +fire fixedly. He was ravaged by emotion. The magical fervour of the +words he had just read had revealed to him the depth of his passion. + +But he would tear the temptation out of his heart. The conduct of his +life had been long ago determined upon. He had known the truth as if by +instinct from the first; no life was possible except an ascetic life, at +least for him. And in this hour of weakness he summoned to his aid all +his ancient ideals: the solemnity and twilight of the arches, the +massive Gregorian chant which seems to be at once their voice and their +soul, the cloud of incense melting upon the mitres and sunsets, and the +boys' treble hovering over an ocean of harmony. But although the picture +of his future life rose at his invocation it did not move him as +heretofore, nor did the scenes he evoked of conjugal grossness and +platitude shock him to the extent he had expected. The moral rebellion +he succeeded in exciting was tepid, heartless, and ineffective, and he +was not moved by hate or fear until he remembered that God in His +infinite goodness had placed him for ever out of the temptation which he +so earnestly sought to escape from. Kitty was a Protestant. In a pang +of despair, windows and organ collapsed like cardboard; incense and +arches vanished, and then rose again with the light of a more gracious +vision upon them. For if the dignity and desire of mere self-salvation +had departed, all the lighter colours and livelier joys of the +conversion of others filled the sky of faith with morning tones and +harmonies. And then?... Salvation before all things, he answered in his +enthusiasm;--something of the missionary spirit of old time was upon +him, and forgetful of his aisles, his arches, his Latin authors, he went +down stairs and asked Kitty to play a game of billiards. + +"We play billiards here on Sunday, but you would think it wrong to do +so." + +"But to-day is not Sunday." + +"No, I was only speaking in a general way. Yet I often wonder how you +can feel satisfied with the protection your Church affords you against +the miseries and trials of the world. A Protestant, you know, may +believe pretty nearly as little or as much as he likes, whereas in our +church everything is defined; we know what we must believe to be saved. +There is a sense of security in the Catholic Church which the Protestant +has not." + +"Do you think so? That is because you do not know our Church," replied +Kitty, who was a little astonished at this sudden outburst. "I feel +quite happy and safe. I know that our Lord Jesus Christ died on the +Cross to save us, and we have the Bible to guide us." + +"Yes, but the Bible without the interpretation of the Church is ... may +lead to error. For instance..." + +John stopped abruptly. Seized with a sudden scruple of conscience he +asked himself if he, in his own house, had a right to strive to +undermine the faith of the daughter of his own friend. + +"Go on," cried Kitty, laughing, "I know the Bible better than you, +and if I break down I will ask father." And as if to emphasise her +intention, she hit her ball which was close under the cushion as hard as +she could. + +John hailed the rent in the cloth as a deliverance, for in the +discussion as to how it could be repaired, the religious question was +forgotten. + +But if he were her lover, if she were going to be his wife, he would +have the right to offer her every facility and encouragement to enter +the Catholic Church--the true faith. Darkness passes, and the birds are +carolling the sun, flowers and trees are pranked with aerial jewellery, +the fragrance of the warm earth flows in your veins, your eyes are fain +of the light above and your heart of the light within. He would not jar +his happiness by the presence of Mrs Norton, even Kitty's presence was +too actual a joy to be home. She drew him out of himself too completely, +interrupted the exquisite sense of personal enchantment which seemed to +permeate and flow through him with the sweetness of health returning to +a convalescent on a spring day. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts +came and went like soft light and shade in a garden close; his happiness +was a part of himself, as fragrance is inherent in the summer time. +The evil of the last days had fallen from him, and the reaction was +equivalently violent. Nor was he conscious of the formal resignation he +was now making of his dream, nor did he think of the distasteful load of +marital duties with which he was going to burden himself; all was lost +in the vision of beautiful companionship, a sort of heavenly journeying, +a bright earthly way with flowers and starlight--he a little in advance +pointing, she following, with her eyes lifted to the celestial gates +shining in the distance. Sometimes his arms would be thrown about her. +Sometimes he would press a kiss upon her face. She was his, his, and he +was her saviour. The evening died, the room darkened, and John's dream +continued in the twilight, and the ringing of the dinner bell and the +disturbance of dressing did not destroy his thoughts. Like fumes of +wine they hung about him during the evening, and from time to time he +looked at Kitty. + +But although he had so far surrendered himself, he did not escape +without another revulsion of feeling. A sudden realisation of what his +life would be under the new conditions did not fail to frighten him, and +he looked back with passionate regret on his abandoned dreams. But his +nature was changed, abstention he knew was beyond his strength, and +after many struggles, each of which was feebler than the last, he +determined to propose to Kitty on the first suitable occasion. + +Then came the fear of refusal. Often he was paralysed with pain, +sometimes he would morbidly allow his thoughts to dwell on the moment +when he would hear her say, it was impossible, that she did not and +could not love him. The young grey light of the eyes would be fixed upon +him; she would speak her sorrow, and her thin hands would hang by her +side in the simple attitude that was so peculiar to her. And he mused +willingly on the long meek life of grief that would then await him. He +would belong to God; his friar's frock would hide all; it would be the +habitation, and the Gothic walls he would raise, the sepulchre of his +love.... + +"But no, no, she shall be mine," he cried out, moved in his very +entrails. Why should she refuse him? What reason had he to believe that +she would not have him? He thought of how she had answered his questions +on this and that occasion, how she had looked at him; he recalled every +gesture and every movement with wonderful precision, and then he lapsed +into a passionate consideration of the general attitude of mind she +evinced towards him. He arrived at no conclusion, but these meditations +were full of penetrating delight. Sometimes he was afflicted with an +intense shyness, and he avoided her; and when Mrs Norton, divining his +trouble, sent them to walk in the garden, his heart warmed to his +mother, and he regretted his past harshness. + +And this idyll was lived about the beautiful Italian house, with its +urns and pilasters; through the beautiful English park, with its elms +now with the splendour of summer upon them; in the pleasure grounds with +their rosary, and the fountain where the rose leaves float, and the +wood-pigeons come at eventide to drink; in the greenhouse with its live +glare of geraniums, where the great yellow cat, so soft and beautiful, +springs on Kitty's shoulder, rounds its back, and purring, insists on +caresses; in the large clean stables where the horses munch the corn +lazily, and look round with round inquiring eyes, and the rooks croak +and flutter, and strut about Kitty's feet. It was Kitty; yes, it was +Kitty everywhere; even the blackbird darting through the laurels seemed +to cry Kitty. + +To propose! Time, place, and the words he should use had been carefully +considered. After each deliberation, a new decision had been taken: +but when he came to the point, John found himself unable to speak +any one of the different versions he had prepared. Still he was very +happy. The days were full of sunshine and Kitty, and he mistook her +light-heartedness for affection. He had begun to look upon her as his +certain wife, although no words had been spoken that would suggest such +a possibility. Outside of his imagination nothing was changed; he stood +in exactly the same relation to her as he had done when he returned from +Stanton College, determined to build a Gothic monastery upon the ruins +of Thornby Place, and yet somehow he found it difficult to realise that +this was so. + +One morning he said, as they went into the garden, "You must sometimes +feel a little lonely here ... when I am away ... all alone here with +mother." + +"Oh dear no! we have lots to do. I look after the pets in the morning. +I feed the cats and the rooks, and I see that the canaries have fresh +water and seed. And then the bees take up a lot of our time. We have +twenty-two hives. Mrs Norton says she ought to make five pounds a year +on each. Sometimes we lose a swarm or two, and then Mrs Norton is so +cross. We were out for hours with the gardener the other day, but we +could do no good; we could not get them out of that elm tree. You see +that long branch leaning right over the wall; well it was on that branch +that they settled, and no ladder was tall enough to reach them; and when +Bill climbed the tree and shook them out they flew right away." + +"Shall I, shall I propose to her now?" thought John. But Kitty continued +talking, and it was difficult to interrupt her. The gravel grated under +their feet; the rooks were flying about the elms. At the end of the +garden there was a circle of fig trees. A silent place, and John vowed +he would say the word there. But as they approached his courage died +within him, and he was obliged to defer his vows until they reached the +green-house. + +"So your time is fully occupied here." + +"And in the afternoon we go out for drives; we pay visits. You never +pay visits; you never go and call on your neighbours." + +"Oh, yes I do; I went the other day to see your father." + +"Ah yes, but that is only because he talks to you about Latin authors." + +"No, I assure you it isn't. Once I have finished my book I shall never +look at them again." + +"Well, what will you do?" + +"Next winter I intend to go in for hunting. I have told a dealer to look +out for a couple of nice horses for me." + +Kitty looked up, her grey eyes wide open. If John had told her that he +had given the order for a couple of crocodiles she could not have been +more surprised. + +"But hunting is over now; it won't begin again till next November. You +will have to play lawn tennis this summer." + +"I have sent to London for a racquet and shoes, and a suit of flannels." + +"Goodness me.... Well, that is a surprise! But you won't want the +flannels; you might play in the Carmelite's habit which came down the +other day. How you do change your mind about things!" + +"Do you never change your mind, Kitty?" + +"Well, I don't know, but not so suddenly as you. Then you are not going +to become a monk?" + +"I don't know, it depends on circumstances." + +"What circumstances?" said Kitty, innocently. + +The words "_whether you will or will not have me_" rose to John's lips, +but all power to speak them seemed to desert him; he had grown suddenly +as weak as melting snow, and in an instant the occasion had passed. He +hated himself for his weakness. The weary burden of his love lay still +upon him, and the torture of utterance still menaced him from afar. The +conversation had fallen. They were approaching the greenhouse, and the +cats ran to meet their patron. Sammy sprang on Kitty's shoulder. + +"Oh, isn't he a beauty? stroke him, do." + +John passed his hand along the beautiful yellow fur. Sammy rubbed his +head against his mistress' face, her raised eyes were as full of light +as the pale sky, and the rich brown head and the thin hands made a +picture in the exquisite clarity of the English morning,--in the +homeliness of the English garden, with tall hollyhocks, espalier apple +trees, and one labourer digging amid the cabbages. Joy crystal as the +morning itself illumined John's mind for a moment, and then faded, and +he was left lonely with the remembrance that his fate had still to be +decided, that it still hung in the scale. + +One evening as they were walking in the park, shadowy in the twilight of +an approaching storm, Kitty said: + +"I never would have believed, John, that you could care to go out for a +walk with me." + +"And why, Kitty?" + +Kitty laughed--her short sudden laugh was strange and sweet. John's +heart was beating. "Well," she said, without the faintest hesitation or +shyness, "we always thought you hated girls. I know I used to tease you, +when you came home for the first time; when you used to think of nothing +but the Latin authors." + +"What do you mean?" + +Kitty laughed again. + +"You promise not to tell?" + +"I promise." + +This was their first confidence. + +"You told your mother when I came, when you were sitting by the fire +reading, that the flutter of my skirts disturbed you." + +"No, Kitty, I'm sure you never disturbed me, or at least not for a long +time. I wish my mother would not repeat conversations, it is most +unfair." + +"Mind you, you promised not to repeat what I have told you. If you do, +you will get me into an awful scrape." + +"I promise." + +The conversation came to a pause. Presently Kitty said, "But you seem to +have got over your dislike to girls. I saw you talking a long while with +Miss Orme the other day; and at the Meet you seemed to admire her. She +was the prettiest girl we had here." + +"No, indeed she wasn't!" + +"Who was, then?" + +"You were." + +Kitty looked up; and there was so much astonishment in her face that +John in a sudden access of fear said, "We had better make haste, the +storm is coming on; we shall get wet through." + +They ran towards the house. John reproached himself bitterly, but +he made no further attempt to screw his courage up to the point +of proposing. His disappointment was followed by doubts. Was his +powerlessness a sign from God that he was abandoning his true vocation +for a false one? and a little shaken, he attempted to interest himself +in the re-building of his house; but the project had grown impossible to +him, and he felt he could not embrace it again, with any of the old +enthusiasm at least, until he had been refused by Kitty. There were +moments when he almost yearned to hear her say that she could never love +him. But in his love and religious suffering the thought of bringing a +soul home to the true fold remained a fixed light; he often looked to it +with happy eyes, and then if he were alone he fell on his knees and +prayed. Prayer like an opiate calmed his querulous spirit, and having +told his beads--the great beads which hung on his prie-dieu--he would go +down stairs with peace in his heart, and finding Kitty, he would ask her +to walk with him in the garden, or they would stroll out on the tennis +lawn, racquet in hand. + +One afternoon it was decided that they should go for a long walk. John +suggested that they should climb to the top of Toddington Mount, and +view the immense plain which stretches away in dim blue vapour and a +thousand fields. + +You see John and Kitty as they cross the wide park towards the vista in +the circling elms,--she swinging her parasol, he carrying stiffly his +grave canonical cane. He still wears the long black coat buttoned at the +throat, but the air of hieratic dignity is now replaced by, or rather it +is glossed with, the ordinary passion of life. Both are like children, +infinitely amused by the colour of the grass and sky, by the hurry of +the startled rabbit, by the prospect of the long walk; and they taste +already the wild charm of the downs, seeing and hearing in imagination +its many sights and sounds, the wild heather, the yellow savage gorse, +the solitary winding flock, the tinkling of the bell-wether, the +cliff-like sides, the crowns of trees, the mighty distance spread out +like a sea below them with its faint and constantly dissolving horizon +of the Epsom Hills. + +"I never can cross this plain, Kitty, without thinking of the Dover +cliffs as seen in mid Channel; this is a mere inland imitation of them." + +"I have never seen the Dover cliffs; I have never been out of England, +but the Brighton cliffs give me an idea of what you mean." + +"On your side--the Shoreham side--the downs rise in a gently sloping +ascent from the sea." + +"Yes, we often walk up there. You can see Brighton and Southwick and +Worthing. Oh! it is beautiful! I often go for a walk there with my +friends, the Austen girls--you saw them here at the Meet." + +"Yes, Mr Austen has a very nice property; it extends right into the town +of Shoreham, does it not?" + +"Yes, and right up to Toddington Mount, where we are going. But aren't +you a little tired, John? These roads are very steep." + +"Out of breath, Kitty; let's stop for a minute or two." The country lay +below them. They had walked three miles, and Thornby Place and its elms +were now vague in the blue evening. "We must see one of these days if we +cannot do the whole distance." + +"What? right across the downs from Shoreham to Henfield?" + +"Well, it is not more than eight miles; you don't think you could manage +it?" + +"I don't know, it is more than eight miles, and walking on the downs is +not like walking on the highroad. Father thinks nothing of it." + +"We must really try it." + +"What would you do if I were to get so tired that I could not go back or +forward?" + +"I would carry you." + +They continued their climb. Speaking of the Devil's Dyke, Kitty said-- + +"What! you mean to say you never heard the legend? You, a Sussex man!" + +"I have lived very little in Sussex, and I used to hate the place; I am +only just beginning to like it." + +"And you don't like the Jesuits any more, because they go in for +matchmaking." + +"They are too sly for me, I confess; I don't approve of priests meddling +in family affairs. But tell me the legend." + +"Oh, how steep these roads are. At last, at last. Now let's try and find +a place where we can sit down. The grass is full of that horrid prickly +gorse." + +"Here's a nice soft place; there is no gorse here. Now tell me the +legend." + +"Well, I never!" said Kitty, sitting herself on the spot that had been +chosen for her, "you do astonish me. You never heard of the legend of St +Cuthman." + +"No, do tell it to me." + +"Well, I scarcely know how to tell it in ordinary words, for I learnt it +in poetry." + +"In poetry! In whose poetry?" + +"Evy Austen put it into poetry, the eldest of the girls, and they made +me recite it at the harvest supper." + +"Oh, that's awfully jolly--I never should have thought she was so +clever. Evy is the dark-haired one." + +"Yes, Evy is awfully clever; but she doesn't talk much about it." + +"Do recite it." + +"I don't know that I can remember it all. You won't laugh if I break +down." + +"I promise." + + THE LEGEND OF ST CUTHMAN. + + "St Cuthman stood on a point which crowns + The entire range of the grand South Downs; + Beneath his feet, like a giant field, + Was stretched the expanse of the Sussex Weald. + 'Suppose,' said the Saint,''twas the will of Heaven + To cause this range of hills to be riven, + And what were the use of prayers and whinings, + Were the sea to flood the village of Poynings: + 'Twould be fine, no doubt, these Downs to level, + But to do such a thing I defy the Devil!' + St Cuthman, tho' saint, was a human creature, + And his eye, a bland and benevolent feature, + Remarked the approach of the close of day, + And he thought of his supper, and turned away. + Walking fast, he + Had scarcely passed the + First steps of his way, when he saw something nasty; + 'Twas tall and big, + And he saw from its rig + 'Twas the Devil in full diabolical fig. + There were wanting no proofs, + For the horns and the hoofs + And the tail were a fully convincing sight; + But the heart of the Saint + Ne'er once turned faint, + And his halo shone with redoubled light. + 'Hallo, I fear + You're trespassing here!' + Said St Cuthman, 'To me it is perfectly clear, + If you talk of the devil, he's sure to appear!' + 'With my spade and my pick + I am come,' said old Nick, + 'To prove you've no power o'er a demon like me. + I'll show you my power-- + Ere the first morning hour + Thro' the Downs, over Poynings, shall roll in the sea.' + 'I'll give you long odds,' + Cried the Saint, 'by the gods! + I'll stake what you please, only say what your wish is.' + Said the devil, 'By Jove! + You're a sporting old cove! + My pick to your soul, + I'll make such a hole, + That where Poynings now stands, shall be swimming the fishes.' + 'Done!' cried the Saint, 'but I must away + I have a penitent to confess; + In an hour I'll come to see fair play-- + In truth I cannot return in less. + My bet will be won ere the first bright ray + Heralds the ascension of the day. + If I lose!--there will be _the devil to pay!_' + He descended the hill with a firm quick stride, + Till he reached a cell which stood on the side; + He knocked at the door, and it opened wide,-- + He murmured a blessing and walked inside. + Before him he saw a tear-stained face + Of an elderly maiden of elderly grace; + Who, when she beheld him, turned deadly pale, + And drew o'er her features a nun's black veil. + 'Holy father!' she said, 'I have one sin more, + Which I should have confessed sixty years before! + I have broken my vows--'tis a terrible crime! + I have loved _you_, oh father, for all that time! + My passion I cannot subdue, tho' I try! + Shrive me, oh father! and let me die!' + 'Alas, my daughter,' replied the Saint, + 'One's desire is ever to do what one mayn't, + There was once a time when I loved you, too, + I have conquered my passion, and why shouldn't you? + For penance I say, + You must kneel and pray + For hours which will number seven; + Fifty times say the rosary, + (Fifty, 'twill be a poser, eh?) + But by it you'll enter heaven; + As each hour doth pass, + Turn the hour glass, + Till the time of midnight's near; + On the stroke of midnight + This taper light, + Your conscience will then be clear.' + He left the cell, and he walked until + He joined Old Nick on the top of the hill. + It was five o'clock, and the setting sun + Showed the work of the Devil already begun. + St Cuthman was rather fatigued by his walk, + And caring but little for brimstone talk, + He watched the pick crash through layers of chalk. + And huge blocks went over and splitting asunder + Broke o'er the Weald like the crashing of thunder. + St Cuthman wished the first hour would pass, + When St Ursula, praying, reversed the glass. + 'Ye legions of hell!' the Old Gentleman cried, + 'I have such a terrible stitch in the side!' + 'Don't work so hard,' said the Saint, 'only see, + The sides of your dyke a heap smoother might be.' + 'Just so,' said the Devil, 'I've had a sharp fit, + So, resting, I'll trim up my crevice a bit.' + St Cuthman was looking prodigiously sly, + He knew that the hours were slipping by. + 'Another attack! + I've cramp at my back! + I've needles and pins + From my hair to my shins! + I tremble and quail + From my horns to my tail! + I will not be vanquished, I'll work, I say, + This dyke shall be finished ere break of day!' + 'If you win your bet, 'twill be fairly earned,' + Said the Saint, and again was the hour-glass turned. + And then with a most unearthly din + The farther end of the dyke fell in; + But in spite of an awful rheumatic pain + The Devil began his work again. + 'I'll not be vanquished!' exclaimed the old bloke. + 'By breathing torrents of flame and smoke, + Your dyke,' said the Saint, 'is hindered each minute, + What can one expect when the Devil is in it?' + Then an accident happened, which caused Nick at last + To rage, fume, and swear; when the fourth hour had passed, + On his hoof there came rolling a huge mass of quartz. + Then quite out of sorts + The bad tempered old cove + Sent the huge mass of stone whizzing over to Hove. + He worked on again, till a howl and a cry + Told the Saint one more hour--the fifth--had gone by. + 'What's the row?' asked the Saint, 'A cramp in the wrist, + I think for a while I had better desist.' + Having rested a bit he worked at his chasm, + Till, the hour having passed, he was seized with a spasm. + He raged and he cursed, + 'I bore this at first, + The rheumatics were awful, but this is the worst.' + With awful rage heated, + The demon defeated, + In his passion used words that can't be repeated. + Feeling shaken and queer, + In spite of his fear, + At the dyke he worked on until midnight drew near. + But when the glass turned for the last time, he found + That the head of his pick was stuck fast in the ground. + 'Cease now!' cried St Cuthman, 'vain is your toil! + Come forth from the dyke! Leave your pick in the soil! + You agreed to work 'tween sunset and morn, + And lo! the glimmer of day is born! + In vain was your fag, + And your senseless brag.' + Dizzy and dazed with sulphureous vapour, + Old Nick was deceived by St Ursula's taper. + 'The dawn!' yelled the Devil, 'in vain was my boast, + That I'd have your soul, for I've lost it, I've lost!' + 'Away!' cried St Cuthman, 'Foul fiend! away! + See yonder approaches the dawn of day! + Return to the flames where you were before, + And molest these peaceful South Downs no more!' + The old gentleman scowled but dared not stay, + And the prints of his hoofs remain to this day, + Where he spread his dark pinions and soared away. + At St Ursula's cell + Was tolling the bell, + And St Cuthman in sorrow, stood there by her side. + 'Twas over at last, + Her sorrows were past, + In the moment of triumph St Ursula died. + Tho' this was the ground, + There never were found + The tools of the Devil, his spade and his pick; + But if you want proof + Of the Legend, the hoof- + Marks are still in the hillock last trod by Old Nick." + +"Oh! that is jolly. Well, I never thought the girl was clever enough to +write that. And there are some excellent rhymes in it, 'passed he' +rhyming with 'nasty,' and 'rosary' with 'poser, eh;' and how well you +recite it." + +"Oh, I recited it better at the harvest supper; and you have no idea how +the farmers enjoyed it. They know the place so well, and it interested +them on that account. They understood it all." + +John sat as if enchanted,--by Kitty's almost childish grace, her +enthusiasm for her friend's poem, and her genuine enjoyment of it; by +the abrupt hills, mysterious now in sunset and legend; by the vast +plains so blue and so boundless: out of the thought of the littleness +of life, of which they were a symbol, there came the thought of the +greatness of love. + +"Won't you cross the poor gipsy's palm with a bit of silver, my pretty +gentleman, and she will tell you your fortune and that of your pretty +lady?" + +Kitty uttered a startled cry, and turning they found themselves facing a +strong, black-eyed girl. She repeated her question. + +"What do you think, Kitty, would you like to have your fortune told?" + +Kitty laughed. "It would be rather fun," she said. + +She did not know what was coming, and she listened to the usual story, +full by the way of references to John--of a handsome young man who would +woo her, win her, and give her happiness, children, and wealth. + +John threw the girl a shilling. She withdrew. They watched her passing +through the furze. The silence about them was immense. Then John spoke: + +"What the gipsy said is quite true; I did not dare to tell you so +before." + +"What do you mean, John?" + +"I mean that I am in love with you, will you love me?" + +"You in love with me, John; it is quite absurd--I thought you hated +girls." + +"Never mind that, Kitty, say you will have me; make the gipsy's words +come true." + +"Gipsies' words always come true." + +"Then you will marry me?" + +"I never thought about marriage. When do you want me to marry you? I am +only seventeen?" + +"Oh! when you like, later on, only say you will be mine, that you will +be mistress of Thornby Place one day, that is all I want." + +"Then you don't want to pull the house down any more." + +"No, no; a thousand times no! Say you will be my wife one of these +days." + +"Very well then, one of these days...." "And I may tell my mother of +your promise to-night?... It will make her so happy." + +"Of course you may tell her, John, but I don't think she will believe +it." + +"Why should she not believe it?" + +"I don't know," said Kitty, laughing, "but how funny, was it not, that +the gipsy girl should guess right?" + +"Yes, it was indeed. I wanted to tell you before, but I hadn't the +courage; and I might never have found the courage if it had not been for +that gipsy." + +In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely +sensible of the importance of the promise she had given. And in silence +he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever +in his mind. Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, +and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard. +Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in +darkness that was almost night. + +"I am sorry we cannot see the house--your house," said John as they +descended the chalk road. + +"It seems so funny to hear you say that, John." + +"Why? It will be your house some day." + +"But supposing your Church will not let you marry me, what then...." + +"There is no danger of that; a dispensation can always be obtained. But +who knows.... You have never considered the question.... You know +nothing of our Church; if you did, you might become a convert. I wish +you would consider the question. It is so simple; we surrender our own +wretched understanding, and are content to accept the Church as wiser +than we. Once man throws off restraint there is no happiness, there is +only misery. One step leads to another; if he would be logical he must +go on, and before long, for the descent is very rapid indeed, he finds +himself in an abyss of darkness and doubt, a terrible abyss indeed, +where nothing exists, and life has lost all meaning. The Reformation was +the thin end of the wedge, it was the first denial of authority, and you +see what it has led to--modern scepticism and modern pessimism." + +"I don't know what it means, but I heard Mrs Norton say you were a +pessimist." + +"I was; but I saw in time where it was leading me, and I crushed it out. +I used to be a Republican too, but I saw what liberty meant, and what +were its results, and I gave it up." + +"So you gave up all your ideas for Catholicism...." + +John hesitated, he seemed a little startled, but he answered, "I would +give up anything for my Church..." + +"What! Me?" + +"That is not required." + +"And did it cost you much to give up your ideas?" + +John raised his eyes--it was a look that Balzac would have understood +and would have known how to interpret in some admirable pages of human +suffering. "None will ever know how I have suffered," he said sadly. +"But now I am happy, oh! so happy, and my happiness would be complete +if.... Oh! if God would grant you grace to believe...." + +"But I do believe. I believe in our Lord Christ who died to save us. Is +not that enough?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Like Juggernaut's car, Catholicism had passed over John's mind, crushing +all individualism, and leaving it but a wreck of quaking mysticism. +Twenty times a day the spectre of his conscience rose and with menacing +finger threatened him with flames and demons. And his love was a source +of continual suffering. How often did he ask himself if he were +surrendering his true vocation? How often did he beg of God to guide him +aright? But these mental agitations were visible to no one. He preserved +his calm exterior and the keenest eye detected in him only an ordinary +young man with more than usually strict business habits. He had +appointments with his solicitor. He consulted with him, he went into +complex calculations concerning necessary repairs, and he laid plans for +the more advantageous letting of the farms. + +His mother encouraged him to attend to his business. Her head was full +of other matters. A dispensation had to be obtained; it was said that +the Pope was more than ever opposed to mixed marriages. But no objection +would be made to this one. It would be madness to object.... A rich +Catholic family at Henfield--nearly four thousand a-year--must not be +allowed to become extinct. Thornby Place was the link between the Duke +of Norfolk and the So and So's. If those dreadful cousins came in for +the property, Protestantism would again be established at Thornby Place. +And what a pity that would be; and just at a time when Catholicism was +beginning to make headway in Sussex. And if John did not marry now he +would never marry; of that she was quite sure. + +As may be imagined, these were not the arguments with which Mrs Norton +sought to convince the Rev. William Hare; they were those with which she +besieged the Brompton Oratory, Farm Street, and the Pro-Cathedral. She +played one off against the other. The Jesuits were nettled at having +lost him, but it was agreeable to learn that the Carmelites had been no +less unfortunate than they. The Oratorians on the whole thought he was +not in their "line"; and as their chance of securing him was remote, +they agreed that John would prove more useful to the Church as a married +man than as a priest. A few weeks later the Papal sanction was obtained. + +The clause concerning the children affected Mr Hare deeply, but he was +told that he must not stand in the way of the happiness of two young +people. He considered the question from many points of view, but in the +meantime Mrs Norton continued to deluge Kitty with presents, and to talk +to everybody of her son's marriage. The parson's difficulties were +thereby increased, and eventually he found he could not withhold his +consent. + +And as time went on, John seemed to take a more personal delight in +life than he had done before. He forgot his ancient prejudices if not +his ancient ideals, and, as was characteristic of him, he avoided +thinking with any definiteness on the nature of the new life into which +he was to enter soon. His neighbours declared he was very much improved; +and there were dinner parties at Thornby Place. One of his great +pleasures was to start early in the morning, and having spent a long +day with Kitty, to return home across the downs. The lofty, lonely +landscape, with its lengthy hills defined upon the flushes of July, came +in happy contrast with the noisy hours of tennis and girls; and standing +on the gently ascending slopes, rising almost from the wicket gate of +the rectory, he would wave farewells to Kitty and the Austins. And in +the glittering morning, grey and dewy, when he descended these slopes to +the strip of land that lies between them and the sea, he would pause on +the last verge where the barn stands. Squire Austin's woods are in +front, and they stretch by the town to the sleepy river with its +spiderlike bridge crossing the sandy marshes. The church spire and roofs +show through each break in the elm trees, and higher still the horizon +of the sea is shimmering. + +The rectory is rich brown brick and tiles. About it there is an ample +farmyard. Mr Hare has but the house and an adjoining field, the three +great ricks are Mr Austin's; the sunlight is upon them, and through the +long shadows the cart horses are moving with the drays; and now a +hundred pigeons rise and are seen against the green velvet of the elms, +and one bird's wings are white upon the white sea. + +Mr Hare is sitting in the verandah smoking, Kitty is attending to her +birds. + +"Good morning, John," she cried, "but I can't shake hands with you, my +hands are dirty. Do you talk to father, I haven't a moment. There is +such a lot to do. You know the Miss Austins are coming here to early +dinner, and we have two young men coming from Worthing to play tennis. +The court isn't marked yet." + +"I will help you to mark it." + +"Very well, but I am not ready yet." + +John lit a cigar, and he spoke of books to Mr Hare, whom he considered a +gross Philistine, although a worthy man. The shadows of the Virginia +creeper fell on the red pavement, and Kitty's light voice was heard on +the staircase. Presently she appeared, and lifting the trailing foliage, +she spoke to him. She took him away, and the parson watched the white +lines being marked on the sward. He watched them walk by the iron +railing that separated Little Leywood from Leywood, the Squire's house. +They passed through a small wooden gate into a bit of thick wood, and so +gained the drive. Mr Austin took John to see the horses, Kitty ran to +see the girls who were in their room dressing. How they chattered as +they came down stairs, and with what lightness and laughter they went to +Little Leywood. Their interests were centred in John, and Kitty took +the foremost place as an engaged girl. After dinner young men arrived, +and tennis was played unceasingly. At six o'clock, tired and hot with +air and exercise, all went in to tea--a high tea. At seven John said he +must be thinking of getting home; and happy and glad with all the +pleasant influences of the day upon them, Kitty and the Miss Austins +accompanied him as far as the farm gate. + +"What a beautiful walk you will have, Mr Norton; but aren't you tired? +Seven miles in the morning and seven in the evening!" + +"But I have had the whole day to rest in." + +"What a lovely evening! Let's all walk a little way with him," said +Kitty. + +"I should like to," said the elder Miss Austin, "but we promised father +to be home for dinner. The one sure way of getting into his black books +is to keep his dinner waiting, and he wouldn't dine without us." + +"Well, good-bye, dear," said Kitty, "I shall walk as far as the burgh." + +The Miss Austins turned into the rich trees that encircle Leywood, Kitty +and John faced the hill. They were soon silhouettes, and ascending, they +stood, tiny specks upon the pink evening hours. The table-land swept +about them in multitudinous waves; it was silent and solitary as the +sea. Lancing College, some miles distant, stood lonely as a lighthouse, +and beneath it the Ada flowed white and sluggish through the marshes, +the long spine of the skeleton bridge was black, and there, by that low +shore, the sea was full of mist, and sea and shore and sky were lost in +opal and grey. Old Shoreham, with its air of commerce, of stagnant +commerce, stood by the sea. The tide was out, the sea gates were dry, +only a few pools flashed silver amid the ooze; and the masts of the tall +vessels,--tall vessels aground in that strange canal or rather dyke +which runs parallel with and within a few yards of the sea for so many +miles,--tapered and leaned out over the sea banks, and the points of the +top masts could be counted. Then on the left hand towards Brighton, the +sea streamed with purple, it was striped with green, and it hung like a +blue veil behind the rich trees of Leywood and Little Leywood, and the +trees and the fields were full of golden rays. + +The lovers stood on a grassy plain; sheep were travelling over the great +expanses of the valleys; rooks were flying about. Looking over the plain +you saw Southwick,--a gleam of gables, a gleam of walls,--skirting a +plantation; and further away still, Brighton lay like a pile of rocks +heaped about a low shore. + +To the lovers life was now as an assortment of simple but beautiful +flowers; and they passed the blossoms to and fro and bound them into +a bouquet. They talked of the Miss Austins, of their flirtations, of +the Rectory, of Thornby Place, of Italy, for there they were going +next month on their honeymoon. The turnip and corn lands were as +inconceivable widths of green and yellow satin rolling through the rich +light of the crests into the richer shadow of the valleys. And there +there was a farm-house surrounded by buildings, surrounded by trees,--it +looked like a nest in its snug hollow; the smoke ascended blue and +peacefully. It was the last habitation. Beyond it the downs extend, in +almost illimitable ranges ascending to the wild golden gorse, to the +purple heather. + +We are on the burgh. The hills tumble this way and that; below is the +great weald of Sussex, blue with vapour, spotted with gold fields, level +as a landscape by Hobbema; Chanctonbury Ring stands up like a gaunt +watcher; its crown of trees is pressed upon its brow, a dark and +imperial crown. + +Overhead the sky is full of dark grey clouds; through them the sun +breaks and sheds silver dust over the landscape; in the passing gleams +the green of the furze grows vivid. If you listen you hear the tinkling +of the bell-wether; if you look you see a solitary rabbit. A stunted +hawthorn stands by the circle of stone, and by it the lovers were +sitting. He was talking to her of Italy, of cathedrals and statues, +for although he now loves her as a man should love, he still saw his +honeymoon in a haze of Botticellis, cardinals, and chants. They stood +up and bid each other good-bye, and waving hands they parted. + +Night was coming on apace, a long way lay still before him, and he +walked hastily; she being nearer home, sauntered leisurely, swinging her +parasol. The sweetness of the evening was in her blood and brain, and +the architectural beauty of the landscape--the elliptical arches of the +hills--swam before her. But she had not walked many minutes before a +tramp, like a rabbit out of a bush, sprang out of the furze where he had +been sleeping. He was a gaunt hulking fellow, six feet high. + +"Now 'aven't you a copper or two for a poor fellow, Missie?" + +Kitty started from him frightened. "No, I haven't, I have nothing ... go +away." + +He laughed hoarsely, she ran from him. "Now, don't run so fast, Missie, +won't you give a poor fellow something?" + +"I have nothing." + +"Oh, yes you 'ave; what about those pretty lips?" + +A few strides brought him again to her side. He laid his hand upon her +arm. She broke her parasol across his face, he laughed hoarsely. She saw +his savage beast-like eyes fixed hungrily upon her. She fainted for fear +of his look of dull tigerish cruelty. She fell.... + +When shaken and stunned and terrified she rose from the ground, she saw +the tall gaunt figure passing away like a shadow. The wild solitary +landscape was pale and dim. In the fading light it was a drawing made on +blue paper with a hard pencil. The long undulating lines were defined +on the dead sky, the girdle of blue encircling sea was an image of +eternity. All now was the past, there did not seem to be a present. Her +mind was rocked to and fro, and on its surface words and phrases floated +like sea weed.... To throw her down and ill-treat her. Her frock is +spoilt; they will ask her where she has been to, and how she got herself +into such a state. Mechanically she brushed herself, and mechanically, +very mechanically she picked bits of furze from her dress. She held each +away from her and let it drop in a silly vacant way, all the while +running the phrases over in her mind: "What a horrible man ... he threw me +down and ill-treated me; my frock is ruined, utterly ruined, what a +state it is in! I had a narrow escape of being murdered. I will tell +them that ... that will explain ... I had a narrow escape of being +murdered." But presently she grew conscious that these thoughts were +fictitious thoughts, and that there was a thought, a real thought, +lying in the background of her mind, which she dared not face, which she +could not think of, for she did not think as she desired to; her +thoughts came and went at their own wild will, they flitted lightly, +touching with their wings but ever avoiding this deep and formless +thought which lay in darkness, almost undiscoverable, like a monster in +a nightmare. + +She rose to her feet, she staggered, her sight seemed to fail her. There +was a darkness in the summer evening which she could not account for; +the ground seemed to slide beneath her feet, the landscape seemed to be +in motion and to be rolling in great waves towards the sea. Would it +precipitate itself into the sea, and would she be engulphed in the +universal ruin? O! the sea, how implacably serene, how remorselessly +beautiful; green along the shore, purple along the horizon! But the land +was rolling to it. By Lancing College it broke seaward in a soft lapsing +tide, in front of her it rose in angry billows; and Leywood hill, +green, and grand, and voluted, stood up a great green wave against the +waveless sea. + +"What a horrible man ... he attacked me, ill-treated me ... what for?" Her +thoughts turned aside. "He should be put in prison.... If father knew +it, or John knew it, he would be put in prison, and for a very long +time.... Why did he attack me?... Perhaps to rob me; yes, to rob me, of +course to rob me." The evening seemed to brighten, the tumultuous +landscape to grow still, To rob her, and of what?... of her watch; where +was it? It was gone. The happiness of a dying saint when he opens arms +to heaven descended upon her. The watch was gone ... but, had she lost it? +Should she go back and see if she could find it? Oh! impossible; see the +place again--impossible! search among the gorse--impossible! Horror! She +would die. O to die on the lonely hills, to lie stark and cold beneath +the stars! But no, she would not be found upon these hills. She would +die and be seen no more. O to die, to sink in that beautiful sea, so +still, so calm, so calm--why would it not take her to its bosom and hide +her away? She would go to it, but she could not get to it; there were +thousands of men between her and it.... An icy shiver passed through +her. + +Then as her thoughts broke away, she thought of how she had escaped +being murdered. How thankful she ought to be--but somehow she is not +thankful. And she was above all things conscious of a horror of +returning, of returning to where she would see men and women's faces ... +men's faces. And now with her eyes fixed on the world that awaited her, +she stood on the hillside. There was Brighton far away, sparkling in the +dying light; nearer, Southwick showed amid woods, winding about the foot +of the hills; in front Shoreham rose out of the massy trees of Leywood, +the trees slanted down to the lawn and foliage and walls, made spots of +white and dark green upon a background of blue sea; further to the +right there was a sluggish silver river, the spine of the skeleton +bridge, a spur of Lancing hill, and then mist, pale mist, pale grey +mist. + +"I cannot go home", thought the girl, and acting in direct contradiction +to her thoughts, she walked forward. Her parasol--where was it? It was +broken. The sheep, how sweet and quiet they looked, and the clover, how +deliciously it smelt.... This is Mr Austin's farm, and how well kept it +is. There is the barn. And Evy and Mary, when would they be married? Not +so soon as she, she was going to be married in a month. In a month. She +repeated the words over to herself; she strove to collect her thoughts, +and failing to do so, she walked on hurriedly, she almost ran as if in +the motion to force out of sight the thoughts that for a moment +threatened to define themselves in her mind. Suddenly she stopped; there +were some children playing by the farm gate. They did not know that she +was by, and she listened to their childish prattle unsuspected. To +listen was an infinite assuagement, one that was overpoweringly sweet, +and for some moments she almost forgot. But she woke from her ecstacy in +deadly fear and great pain, for coming along the hedgerow the voice of a +man was heard, and the children ran away. And she ran too, like a +terrified fawn, trembling in every limb, and sick with fear she sped +across the meadows. The front door was open; she heard her father +calling. To see him she felt would be more than she could bear; she must +hide from his sight for ever, and dashing upstairs she double locked her +door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The sky was still flushed, there was light upon the sea, but the room +was dim and quiet. The room! Kitty had seen it under all aspects, she +had lived in it many years: then why does she look with strained eyes? +Why does she shrink? Nothing has been changed. There is her little +narrow bed, and her little bookcase full of novels and prayer-books; +there is her work-basket by the fireplace, by the fireplace closed in +with curtains that she herself embroidered; above her pillow there is a +crucifix; there are photographs of the Miss Austins, and pictures of +pretty children cut from the Christmas Numbers on the walls. She starts +at the sight of these familiar objects! She trembles in the room which +she thought of as a haven of refuge. Why does she grasp the rail of the +bed--why? She scarcely knows: something that is at once remembrance and +suspicion fills her mind. Is this her room? + +The thought ended. She walked hurriedly to and fro, and as she passed +the fuchsia in the window a blossom fell. + +She sat down and stared into dark space. She walked languidly and +purposelessly to the wardrobe. She stopped to pick a petal from the +carpet. The sound of the last door was over, the retiring footfall had +died away in the distance, the last voice was hushed; the moon was +shining on the sea. A lovely scene, silver and blue; but how the girl's +heart was beating! She sighed. + +She sighed as if she had forgotten, and approaching her bedside she +raised her hands to her neck. It was the instinctive movement of +undressing. Her hands dropped, she did not even unbutton her collar. She +could not. She resumed her walk, she picked up a blossom that had +fallen, she looked out on the pale white sea. There was moonlight now in +the room, a ghastly white spot was on the pillow. She was tired. The +moonlight called her. She lay down with her profile in the light. + +But there were smell and features in the glare--the odour was that of +the tramp's skin, the features--a long thin nose, pressed lips, small +eyes, a look of dull liquorish cruelty. And this presence was beside +her; she could not rid herself of it, she repulsed it with cries, but it +came again, and mocking, lay on the pillow. + +Horrible, too horrible! She sprang from the bed. Was there anyone in her +room? How still it was! The mysterious moonlight, the sea white as a +shroud, the sward so chill and death-like. What! Did it move? Was it he? +That fearsome shadow! Was she safe? Had they forgotten to bar up the +house? Her father's house! Horrible, too horrible, she must shut out +this treacherous light--darkness were better.... + + * * * * * + +The curtains are closed, but a ray glinting between the wall and curtain +shows her face convulsed. Something follows her: she knows not what, her +thoughts are monstrous and obtuse. She dares not look round, she would +turn to see if her pursuer is gaining upon her, but some invincible +power restrains her.... Agony! Her feet catch in, and she falls over +great leaves. She falls into the clefts of ruined tombs, and her hands +as she attempts to rise are laid on sleeping snakes--rattlesnakes: they +turn to attack her, and they glide away and disappear in moss and +inscriptions. O, the calm horror of this region! Before her the trees +extend in complex colonnades, silent ruins are grown through with giant +roots, and about the mysterious entrances of the crypts there lingers +yet the odour of ancient sacrifices. The stem of a rare column rises +amid the branches, the fragment of an arch hangs over and is supported +by a dismantled tree trunk. Ages ago the leaves fell, and withered; ages +ago; and now the skeleton arms, lifted in fantastic frenzy against the +desert skies, are as weird and symbolic as the hieroglyphics on the +tombs below. + +And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. + +Flowers hang on every side,--flowers as strange and as gorgeous as +Byzantine chalices; flowers narrow and fluted and transparent as long +Venetian glasses; opaque flowers bulging and coloured with gold devices +like Chinese vases, flowers striped with cinnamon and veined with azure; +a million flower-cups and flower chalices, and in these as in censers +strange and deadly perfumes are melting, and the heavy fumes descend +upon the girl, and they mix with the polluting odour of the ancient +sacrifices. She sinks, her arms are raised like those of a victim; she +sinks overcome, done to death or worse in some horrible asphyxiation. + +And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. His claws are upon the crumbling tombs. + +The suffocating girl utters a thin wail. The vulture pauses, and is +stationary on the white and desert skies. She strives with her last +strength to free herself from the thrall of the great lianas, and she +falls into fresh meshes.... The claws are heard amid the ruins, there is +a hirsute smell; she turns with terrified eyes to plead, but she meets +only the dull liquorish eyes, and the breath of the obscene animal is on +her face. + +Then she finds herself in the pleasure grounds of Thornby Place. There +are the evergreen oaks, there is the rosary flaring all its wealth of +red, purple, and white flowers, there is the park encircled by elms, +there is the vista filled in with the line of the lofty downs. For a +moment she is surprised, and fails to understand. Then she forgets the +change of place in new sensations of terror. For across the park +something is coming, she knows not what; it will pass her by. She +watches a brown and yellow serpent, cubits high. Cubits high. It rears +aloft its tawny hide, scenting its prey. The great coiling body, the +small head, small as a man's hand, the black beadlike eyes shine out +upon the intoxicating blue of the sky. The narrow long head, the fixed +black eyes are dull, inexorable desire, conscious of nothing beyond, and +only dimly conscious of itself. Will the snake pass by the hiding girl? +She rushes to meet it. What folly! She turns and flies. + +She takes refuge in the rosary. It follows her, gathering its immense +body into horrible and hideous heights. How will she save herself? She +will pluck roses, and build a wall between her and it. She collects huge +bouquets, armfuls of beautiful flowers, garlands and wreaths. The +flower-wall rises, and hoping to combat the fury of the beast with +purity, she goes to where beautiful and snowy blossoms grow in +clustering millions. She gathers them in haste; her arms and hands are +streaming with blood, but she pays no heed, and as the snake surmounts +one barricade, she builds another. But in vain. The reptile leans over +them all, and the sour dirty smell of the scaly hide befouls the odorous +breath of the roses. The long thin neck is upon her; she feels the +horrid strength of the coils as they curl and slip about her, drawing +her whole life into one knotted and loathsome embrace. And all the while +the roses fall in a red and white rain about her. And through the ruin +of the roses she escapes from the stench and the coils, and all the +while the snake pursues her even into the fountain. The waves and the +snake close about her. + +Then without any transition in place or time, she finds herself +listening to the sound of rippling water. There is an iron drinking cup +close to her hand. She seems to recognise the spot. It is Shoreham. +There are the streets she knows so well, the masts of the vessels, the +downs. But suddenly something darkens the sunlight, the tawny body of +the snake oscillates, the people cry to her to escape. She flies along +the streets, like the wind she seems to pass. She calls for help. +Sometimes the crowds are stationary as if frozen into stone, sometimes +they follow the snake and attack it with sticks and knives. One man with +colossal shoulders wields a great sabre; it flashes about him like +lightning. Will he kill it? He turns and chases a dog, and disappears. +The people too have disappeared. She is flying now along a wild plain +covered with coarse grass and wild poppies. When she glances behind her +she sees the outline of the little coast town, the snake is near her, +and there is no one to whom she can call for help. But the sea is in +front of her, bound like a blue sash about the cliff's edge. She will +escape down the rocks--there is still a chance! The descent is sheer, +but somehow she retains foothold. Then the snake drops, she feels his +weight upon her, and both fall, fall, fall, and the sea is below +them.... + + * * * * * + +With a shriek she sprang from the bed, and still under the influence of +the dream, rushed to the window. The moon hung over the sea, the sea +flowed with silver, the world was as chill as an icicle. + +"The roses, the snake, the cliff's edge, was it then only a dream?" the +girl thought. "It was only a dream, a terrible dream, but after all only +a dream!" In her hope breathes again, and she smiles like one who thinks +he is going to hear that he will not die, but as the old pain returns +when the last portion of the deceptive sentence is spoken, so despair +came back to her when remembrance pierced the cloud of hallucination, +and told her that all was not a dream--there was something that was +worse than a dream. + +She uttered a low cry, and she moaned. Centuries seemed to have passed, +and yet the evil deed remained. It was still night, but what would the +day bring to her? There was no hope. Abstract hope from life, and what +blank agony you create! + +She drew herself up on her bed, and lay with her face buried in the +pillow. For the face was beside her: the foul smell was in her nostrils, +and the dull, liquorish look of the eyes shone through the darkness. +Then sleep came again, and she lay stark and straight as if she were +dead, with the light of the moon upon her face. And she sees herself +dead. And all her friends are about her crowning her with flowers, +beautiful garlands of white roses, and dressing her in a long white +robe, white as the snowiest cloud in heaven, and it lies in long +straight plaits about her limbs like the robes of those who lie in +marble in cathedral aisles. And it falls over her feet, and her hands +are crossed over her breast, and all praise in low but ardent words the +excessive whiteness of the garment. For none sees but she that there is +a black spot upon the robe which they believe to be immaculate. And she +would warn them of their error, but she cannot; and when they avert +their faces to wipe away their tears, the stain might be easily seen, +but when they turn to continue the last offices, folds or flowers have +mysteriously fallen over the stain, and hide it from view. + +And it is great pain to her to feel herself thus unable to tell them of +their error, for she well knows that when she is placed in the tomb, and +the angels come, that they will not fail to perceive the stain, and +seeing it they will not fail to be shocked and sorrowful,--and seeing it +they will turn away weeping, saying, "She is not for us, alas, she is +not for us!" + +And Kitty, who is conscious of this fatal oversight, the results of +which she so clearly foresees, is grievously afflicted, and she makes +every effort to warn her friends of their error: but in vain, for there +appears to be one amid the mourners who knows that she is endeavouring +to announce to them the black stain, and this one whose face she cannot +readily distinguish, maliciously and with diabolical ingenuity withdraws +attention at the moment when it should fall upon it. + +And so it comes that she is buried in the stained robe, and she is +carried amid flowers and white cloths to a white marble tomb, where +incense is burning, and where the walls are hung with votive wreaths and +things commemorative of virginal life and its many lovelinesses. But, +strange to say, upon all these, upon the flowers and images alike there +is some small stain which none sees but she and the one in shadow, the +one whose face she cannot recognise. And although she is nailed fast in +her coffin, she sees these stains vividly, and the one whose face she +cannot recognise sees them too. And this is certain, for the shadow of +the face is sometimes stirred by a horrible laugh. + +The mourners go, the evening falls, and the wild sunset floats for a +while through the western Heavens; and the cemetery becomes a deep +green, and in the wind that blows out of Heaven, the cypresses rock like +things sad and mute. + +And the blue night comes with stars in her tresses, and out of those +stars a legion of angels float softly; their white feet hang out of the +blown folds, their wings are pointed to the stars. And from out of the +earth, out of the mist, but whence and how it is impossible to say, +there come other angels dark of hue and foul smelling. But the white +angels carry swords, and they wave these swords, and the scene is +reflected in them as in a mirror; and the dark angels cower in a corner +of the cemetery, but they do not utterly retire. + +And then the tomb is opened, and the white angels enter the tomb. And +the coffin is opened, and the girl trembles lest the angels should +discover the stain she knew of. But lo! to her great joy they do not see +it, and they bear her away through the blue night, past the sacred +stars, even within the glory of Paradise. And it is not until one whose +face she cannot recognize, and whose presence among the angels of +Heaven she cannot comprehend, steals away one of the garlands of white +with which she was entwined, that the fatal stain becomes visible. The +angels are overcome with a mighty sorrow, and relinquishing their +burden, they break into song, and the song they sing is one of grief; +and above an accompaniment of spheral music it travels through the +spaces of Heaven; and she listens to its wailing echoes as she falls, +falls,--falls past the sacred stars to the darkness of terrestrial +skies,--falls towards the sea where the dark angels are waiting for her; +and as she falls she leans with reverted neck and strives to see their +faces, and as she nears them she distinguishes one into whose arms she +is going; it is, it is--the... + + * * * * * + +"Save me, save me!" she cried; and bewildered and dazed with the dream, +she stared on the room, now chill with summer dawn; the pale light broke +over the Shoreham sea, over the lordly downs and rich plantations of +Leywood. Again she murmured, it was only a dream, it was only a dream; +again a sort of presentiment of happiness spread like light through her +mind, and again remembrance came with its cruel truths--there was +something that was not a dream, but that was worse than the dream. And +then with despair in her heart she sat watching the cold sky turn to +blue, the delicate bright blue of morning, and the garden grow into +yellow and purple and red. There lay the sea, joyous and sparkling in +the light of the mounting sun, and the masts of the vessels at anchor in +the long water way. The tapering masts were faint on the shiny sky, and +now between them and about them a face seemed to be. Sometimes it was +fixed on one, sometimes it flashed like a will o' the wisp, and appeared +a little to the right or left of where she had last seen it. It was the +face that was now buried in her very soul, and sometimes it passed out +of the sky into the morning mist, which still heaved about the edges of +the woods; and there she saw something grovelling, crouching, +crawling,--a wild beast, or was it a man? + +She did not weep, nor did she moan. She sat thinking. She dwelt on the +remembrance of the hills and the tramp with strange persistency, and yet +no more now than before did she attempt to come to conclusions with her +thought; it was vague, she would not define it; she brooded over it +sullenly and obtusely. Sometimes her thoughts slipped away from it, but +with each returning, a fresh stage was marked in the progress of her +nervous despair. + +So the hours went by. At eight o'clock the maid knocked at the door. +Kitty opened it mechanically, and she fell into the woman's arms, +weeping and sobbing passionately. The sight of the female face brought +infinite relief; it interrupted the jarred and strained sense of the +horrible; the secret affinities of sex quickened within her. The woman's +presence filled Kitty with the feelings that the harmlessness of a lamb +or a soft bird inspires. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"But what is it, Miss, what is it? Are you ill? Why, Miss, you haven't +taken your things off; you haven't been to bed." + +"No, I lay down.... I have had frightful dreams--that is all." + +"But you must be ill, Miss; you look dreadful, Miss. Shall I tell Mr +Hare? Perhaps the doctor had better be sent for." + +"No, no; pray say nothing about me. Tell my father that I did not sleep, +that I am going to lie down for a little while, that he is not to expect +me down for breakfast." + +"I really think, Miss, that it would be as well for you to see the +doctor." + +"No, no, no. I am going to lie down, and I am not to be disturbed." + +"Shall I fill the bath, Miss? Shall I leave hot water here, Miss?" + +"Bath.... Hot water...." Kitty repeated the words over as if she were +striving to grasp a meaning which was suggested, but which eluded her. +Then her face relaxed, the expression was one of pitiful despair, and +that expression gave way to a sense of nausea, expressed by a quick +contraction of the eyes. + +She listened to the splashing of the water, and its echoes were repeated +indefinably through her soul. + +The maid left the room. Kitty's attention was attracted to her dress. It +was torn, it was muddy, there were bits of furze sticking to it. She +picked these off, and slowly she commenced settling it: but as she did +so, remembrance, accurate and simple recollection of facts, returned to +her, and the succession was so complete that the effect was equivalent +to a re-enduring of the crime, and with a foreknowledge of it, as if to +sharpen its horror and increase the sense of the pollution. The lovely +hills, the engirdling sea, the sweet glow of evening--she saw it all +again. And as if afraid that her brain, now strained like a body on the +rack, would suddenly snap, she threw up her arms, and began to take off +her dress, as violently as if she would hush thought in abrupt +movements. In a moment she was in stays and petticoat. The delicate and +almost girlish arms were disfigured by great bruises. Great black and +blue stains were spreading through the skin. + +Kitty lifted up her arm: she looked at it in surprise; then in horror +she rushed to the door where her dressing gown was hanging, and wrapped +herself in it tightly, hid herself in it so that no bit of her flesh +could be seen. + +She threw herself madly on the bed. She moved, pressing herself against +the mattress as if she would rub away, free herself from her loathed +self. The sight of her hand was horrible to her, and she covered it over +hurriedly. + +The maid came up with a tray. The trivial jingle of the cups and plates +was another suffering added to the ever increasing stress of mind, and +now each memory was accompanied by sensations of physical sickness, of +nausea. + +She slipped from the bed and locked the door. Again she was alone. An +hour passed. + +Her father came up. His footsteps on the stairs caused her intolerable +anguish. On entering the house she had hated to hear his voice, and now +that hatred was intensified a thousandfold. His voice sounded in her +ears false, ominous, abominable. She could not have opened the door to +him, and the effort required to speak a few words, to say she was tired +and wished to be left alone, was so great that it almost cost her her +reason. It was a great relief to hear him go. She asked herself why she +hated to hear his voice, but before she could answer a sudden +recollection of the tramp sprang upon her. Her nostrils recalled the +smell, and her eyes saw the long, thin nose and the dull liquorish eyes +beside her on the pillow. + +She got up and walked about the room, and its appearance contrasted +with and aggravated the fierceness of the fever of passion and horror +that raged within her. The homeliness of the teacups and the plates, the +tin bath, painted yellow and white, so grotesque and so trim. + +But not its water nor even the waves of the great sea would wash away +remembrance. She pressed her face against the pane. The wide sea, so +peaceful, so serene! Oblivion, oblivion, O for the waters of oblivion! + +Then for an hour she almost forgot; sometimes she listened, and the +shrill singing of the canary was mixed with thoughts of her dead +brothers and sisters, of her mother. She was waked from her reveries by +the farm bell ringing the labourers' dinner hour. + +Night had been fearsome with darkness and dreams, but the genial +sunlight and the continuous externality of the daytime acted on her +mind, and turned vague thoughts, as it were, into sentences, printed in +clear type. She often thought she was dead, and she favoured this idea, +but she was never wholly dead. She was a lost soul wandering on those +desolate hills, the gloom descending, and Brighton and Southwick and +Shoreham and Worthing gleaming along the sea banks of a purple sea. +There were phantoms--there were two phantoms. One turned to reality, and +she walked by her lover's side, talking of Italy. Then he disappeared, +and she shrank from the horrible tramp; then both men grew confused in +her mind, and in despair she threw herself on her bed. Raising her eyes +she caught sight of her prayer-book, but she turned from it moaning, for +her misery was too deep for prayer. + +The lunch bell rang. She listened to the footsteps on the staircase; she +begged to be excused, and she refused to open the door. + +The day grew into afternoon. She awoke from a dreamless sleep of about +an hour, and still under its soothing influence, she pinned up her +hair, settled the ribbons of her dressing gown, and went downstairs. She +found her father and John in the drawing-room. + +"Oh, here is Kitty!" they exclaimed. + +"But what is the matter, dear? Why are you not dressed?" said Mr Hare. +"But what is the matter.... Are you ill?" said John, and he extended his +hand. + +"No, no, 'tis nothing," she replied, and avoiding the outstretched hand +with a shudder, she took the seat furthest away from her father and +lover. + +They looked at her in amazement, and she at them in fear and trembling. +She was conscious of two very distinct sensations--one the result of +reason, the other of madness. She was not ignorant of the causes of +each, although she was powerless to repress one in favour of the other. +Both struggled for mastery and for the moment without disturbing the +equipoise. On the side of reason she knew very well she was looking at +and talking to her dear, kind father, and that the young man sitting +next him was John Norton, the son of her dear friend, Mrs Norton; she +knew he was the young man who loved her, and whom she was going to +marry, marry, marry. On the other side she saw that her father's kind +benign countenance was not a real face, but a mask which he wore over +another face, and which, should the mask slip--and she prayed that it +might not--would prove as horrible and revolting as-- + +But the mask John wore was as nothing, it was the veriest make believe. +And she could not but doubt now but that the face she had known him so +long by was a fictitious face, and as the hallucination strengthened, +she saw his large mild eyes grow small, and that vague dreamy look +turn to the dull liquorish look, the chin came forward, the brows +contracted ... the large sinewy hands were, oh, so like! Then reason +asserted itself; the vision vanished, and she saw John Norton as she +had always seen him. + +But was she sure that she did? Yes, yes--she must not give way. But her +head seemed to be growing lighter, and she did not appear to be able to +judge things exactly as she should; a sort of new world seemed to be +slipping like a painted veil between her and the old. She must resist. + +John and Mr Hare looked at her. + +John at length rose, and advancing to her, said, "My dear Kitty, I am +afraid you are not well...." + +She strove to allow him to take her hand, but she could not overcome the +instinctive feeling which, against her will, caused her to shrink from +him. + +"Oh, don't come near me, I cannot bear it!" she cried, "don't come near +me, I beg of you." + +More than this she could not do, and giving way utterly, she shrieked +and rushed from the room. She rushed upstairs. She stood in the middle +of the floor listening to the silence, her thoughts falling about her +like shaken leaves. It was as if a thunderbolt had destroyed the world, +and left her alone in a desert. The furniture of the room, the bed, the +chairs, the books she loved, seemed to have become as grains of sand, +and she forgot all connection between them and herself. She pressed her +hands to her forehead, and strove to separate the horror that crowded +upon her. But all was now one horror--the lonely hills were in the room, +the grey sky, the green furze, the tramp; she was again fighting +furiously with him; and her lover and her father and all sense of the +world's life grew dark in the storm of madness. Suddenly she felt +something on her neck. She put her hand up ... + +And now with madness on her face she caught up a pair of scissors and +cut off her hair: one after the other the great tresses of gold and +brown fell, until the floor was strewn with them. + +A step was heard on the stairs; her quick ears caught the sound, and she +rushed to the door to lock it. But she was too late. John held it fast. + +"Kitty, Kitty," he cried, "for God's sake, tell me what is the matter!" + +"Save me! save me!" she cried, and she forced the door against him with +her whole strength. He was, however, determined on questioning her, on +seeing her, and he passed his head and shoulders into the room. His +heart quailed at the face he saw. + +For now had gone that imperceptible something which divides the life of +the sane from that of the insane, and he who had so long feared lest a +woman might soil the elegant sanctity of his life, disappeared forever +from the mind of her whom he had learned to love, and existed to her +only as the foul dull brute who had outraged her on the hills. + +"Save me, save me! help, help!" she cried, retreating from him. + +"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? Say, say--" + +"Save me; oh mercy, mercy! Let me go, and I will never say I saw you, I +will not tell anything. Let me go!" she cried, retreating towards the +window. + +"For Heaven's sake, Kitty, take care--the window, the window!" + +But Kitty heard nothing, knew nothing, was conscious of nothing but a +mad desire to escape. The window was lifted high--high above her head, +and her face distorted with fear, she stood amid the soft greenery of +the Virginia creeper. + +"Save me," she cried, "mercy, mercy!" + +"Kitty, Kitty darling!" + + * * * * * + +The white dress passed through the green leaves. John heard a dull thud. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +And the pity of it! The poor white thing lying like a shot dove, +bleeding, and the dreadful blood flowing over the red tiles.... + +Mr Hare was kneeling by his daughter when John, rushing forth, stopped +and stood aghast. + +"What is this? Say--speak, speak man, speak; how did this happen?" + +"I cannot say, I do not know; she did not seem to know me; she ran away. +Oh my God, I do not understand; she seemed as if afraid of me, and she +threw herself out of the window. But she is not dead ..." + +The word rang out in the silence, ruthlessly brutal in its significance. +Mr Hare looked up, his face a symbol of agony. "Oh, dead, how can you +speak so ..." + +John felt his being sink and fade like a breath, and then, conscious of +nothing, he helped to lift Kitty from the tiles. But it was her father +who carried her upstairs. The blood flowed from the terrible wound in +the head. Dripped. The walls were stained. When she was laid upon the +bed, the pillow was crimson; and the maid-servant coming in, strove to +staunch the wound with towels. Kitty did not move. + +Both men knew there was no hope. The maid-servant retired, and she did +not close the door, nor did she ask if the doctor should be sent for. +One man held the bed rail, looking at his dead daughter; the other sat +by the window. That one was John Norton. His brain was empty, everything +was far away. He saw things moving, moving, but they were all so far +away. He could not re-knit himself with the weft of life; the thread +that had made him part of it had been snapped, and he was left +struggling in space. He knew that Kitty had thrown herself out of the +window and was dead. The word shocked him a little, but there was no +sense of realisation to meet it. She had walked with him on the hills, +she had accompanied him as far as the burgh; she had waved her hand to +him before they walked quite out of each other's sight. They had been +speaking of Italy ... of Italy where they would have spent their +honeymoon. Now she was dead! There would be no honeymoon, no wife. How +unreal, how impossible it all did seem, and yet it was real, yes, real +enough. There she lay dead; here is her room, and there is her +book-case; there are the photographs of the Miss Austins, here is the +fuchsia with the pendent blossoms falling, and her canary is singing. +John glanced at the cage, and the song went to his brain, and he was +horrified, for there was no grief in his heart. + +Had he not loved her? Yes, he was sure of that; then why was there no +burning grief nor any tears? He envied the hard-sobbing father's grief, +the father who, prostrate by the bedside, held his dead daughter's hand, +and showed a face wild with fear--a face on which was printed so deeply +the terror of the soul's emotion, that John felt a supernatural awe +creep upon him; felt that his presence was a sort of sacrilege. He crept +downstairs. He went into the drawing-room, and looked about for the +place he had last seen her in. There it was.... There. But his eyes +wandered from the place, for it was there he had seen the startled face, +the half mad face which he had seen afterwards at the window, quite mad. + +On that sofa she usually sat; how often had he seen her sitting there! +And now he would not see her any more. And only three days ago she had +been sitting in the basket chair. How well he remembered her words, her +laughter, and now ... now; was it possible he never would hear her laugh +again? How frail a thing is human life, how shadow-like; one moment it +is here, the next it is gone. Here is her work-basket; and here the very +ball of wool which he had held for her to wind; and here is a novel +which she had lent to him, and which he had forgotten to take away. He +would never read it now; or perhaps he should read it in memory of her, +of her whom yesterday he parted with on the hills,--her little puritan +look, her external girlishness, her golden brown hair and the sudden +laugh so characteristic of her.... She had lent him this book--she who +was now but clay; she who was to have been his wife. His wife! The +thought struck him. Now he would never have a wife. What was there for +him to do? To turn his house into a Gothic monastery, and himself into a +monk. Very horrible and very bitter in its sheer grotesqueness was the +thought. It was as if in one moment he saw the whole of his life +summarised in a single symbol, and understood its vanity and its folly. +Ah, there was nothing for him, no wife, no life.... The tears welled up +in his eyes; the shock which in its suddenness had frozen his heart, +began to thaw, and grief fell like a penetrating rain. + +We learn to suffer as we learn to love, and it is not to-day, nor yet +to-morrow, but in weeks and months to come, and by slow degrees, that +John Norton will understand the irreparableness of his loss. There is a +man upstairs who crouches like stone by his dead daughter's side; he is +motionless and pale as the dead, he is as great in his grief as an +expression of grief by Michael Angelo. The hours pass, he is unconscious +of them; he sees not the light dying on the sea, he hears not the +trilling of the canary. He knows of nothing but his dead child, and +that the world would be nothing to give to have her speak to him once +again. His is the humblest and the worthiest sorrow, but such sorrow +cannot affect John Norton. He has dreamed too much and reflected too +much on the meaning of life; his suffering is too original in himself, +too self-centred, and at the same time too much, based on the inherent +misery of existence, to allow him to project himself into and suffer +with any individual grief, no matter how nearly it might be allied +to him and to his personal interest. He knew his weakness in this +direction, and now he gladly welcomed the coming of grief, for indeed +he had felt not a little shocked at the aridness of his heart, and +frightened lest his eyes should remain dry even to the end. + +Suddenly he remembered that the Miss Austins had said that they would +call to-morrow early for Kitty, to take her to Leywood to lunch.... They +were going to have some tennis in the afternoon. He too was expected +there. They must be told what had occurred. It would be terrible if they +came calling for Kitty under her window, and she lying dead! This slight +incident in the tragedy wrung his heart, and the effort of putting the +facts upon paper brought the truth home to him, and lured and led him to +see down the lifelong range of consequences. The doctor too, he thought, +must be warned of what had happened. And with the letter telling the sad +story in his hand, and illimitable sorrow in his soul, he went out in +the evening air. It was just such an evening as yester evening--a little +softer, a little lovelier, perhaps; earth, sea, and sky appeared like an +exquisite vision upon whose lips there is fragrance, yet in whose eyes a +glow of passion still survives. + +The beauty of the last hour of light is upon that crescent of sea, and +the ships loll upon the long strand, the tapering masts and slacking +ropes vanish upon the pallid sky. There is the old town, dusty, and +dreamy, and brown, with neglected wharfs and quays; there is the new +town, vulgar and fresh with green paint and trees, and looking hungrily +on the broad lands of the Squire, the broad lands and the rich woods +which rise up the hill side to the barn on the limit of the downs. How +beautiful the great green woods look as they sweep up a small expanse of +the downs, like a wave over a slope of sand. And there is a house with +red gables where the girls are still on the tennis lawn. John walked +through the town; he told the doctor he must go at once to the rectory. +He walked to Leywood and left his letter with the lodge-keeper; and +then, as if led by a strange fascination, he passed through the farm +gate and set out to return home across the hills. + +"She was here with me yesterday; how beautiful she looked, and how +graceful were her laughter and speech," he said, turning suddenly and +looking down on the landscape; on the massy trees contrasting with the +walls of the town, the spine-like bridge crossing the marshy shore, the +sails of the mill turning over the crest of the hill. The night was +falling fast, as a blue veil it hung down over the sea, but the deep +pure sky seemed in one spot to grow clear, and suddenly the pale moon +shone and shimmered upon the sea. The landscape gained in loveliness, +the sheep seemed like phantoms, the solitary barns like monsters of the +night. And the hills were like giants sleeping, and the long outlines +were prolonged far away into the depths and mistiness of space. Turning +again and looking through a vista in the hills, John could see Brighton, +a pale cloud of fire, set by the moon-illumined sea, and nearer was +Southwick, grown into separate lines of light, that wandered into and +lost themselves among the outlying hollows of the hills; and below him +and in front of him Shoreham lay, a blaze of living fire, a thousand +lights; lights everywhere save in one gloomy spot, and there John knew +that his beloved was lying dead. And further away, past the shadowy +marshy shores, was Worthing, the palest of nebulae in these earthly +constellations; and overhead the stars of heaven shone as if in pitiless +disdain. The blown hawthorn bush that stands by the burgh leaned out, a +ship sailed slowly across the rays of the moon. Yesterday they parted +here in the glad golden sunlight, parted for ever, for ever. + +"Yesterday I had all things--a sweet wife and happy youthful days to +look forward to. To-day I have nothing; all my hopes are shattered, all +my illusions have fallen. So is it always with him who places his trust +in life. Ah, life, life, what hast thou for giving save cruel deceptions +and miserable wrongs? Ah, why did I leave my life of contemplation and +prayer to enter into that of desire.... Ah, I knew, well I knew there +was no happiness save in calm and contemplation. Ah, well I knew; and +she is gone, gone, gone!" + +We suffer differently indeed, but we suffer equally. The death of his +sweetheart forces one man to reflect anew on the slightness of life's +pleasures and the depth of life's griefs. In the peaceful valley of +natural instincts and affections he had slept for a while, now he awoke +on one of the high peaks lit with the rays of intense consciousness, +and he cried aloud, and withdrew in terror at a too vivid realisation of +self. The other man wept for the daughter that had gone out of his life, +wept for her pretty face and cheerful laughter, wept for her love, wept +for the years he would live without her. We know which sorrow is the +manliest, which appeals to our sympathy, but who can measure the depth +of John Norton's suffering? It was as vast as the night, cold as the +stream of moonlit sea. + +He did not arrive home till late, and having told his mother what had +happened, he instantly retired to his room. Dreams followed him. The +hills were in his dreams. There were enemies there; he was often pursued +by savages, and he often saw Kitty captured; nor could he ever evade +their wandering vigilance and release her. Again and again he awoke, and +remembered that she was dead. + +Next morning John and Mrs Norton drove to the rectory, and without +asking for Mr Hare, they went up to _her_ room. The windows were open, +and Annie and Mary Austin sat by the bedside watching. The blood had +been washed out of the beautiful hair, and she lay very white and fair +amid the roses her friends had brought her. She lay as she had lain in +one of her terrible dreams--quite still, the slender body covered by a +sheet, moulding it with sculptured delight and love. From the feet the +linen curved and marked the inflections of the knees; there were long +flowing folds, low-lying like the wash of retiring water; the rounded +shoulders, the neck, the calm and bloodless face, the little nose, and +the beautiful drawing of the nostrils, the extraordinary waxen pallor, +the eyelids laid like rose leaves upon the eyes that death has closed +for ever. Within the arm, in the pale hand extended, a great Eucharis +lily had been laid, its carved blossoms bloomed in unchanging stillness, +and the whole scene was like a sad dream in the whitest marble. + +Candles were burning, and the soft smell of wax mixed with the perfume +of the roses. For there were roses everywhere--great snowy bouquets, and +long lines of scattered blossoms, and single roses there and here, and +petals fallen and falling were as tears shed for the beautiful dead, and +the white flowerage vied with the pallor and the immaculate stillness of +the dead. + +The calm chastity, the lonely loveliness, so sweetly removed from taint +of passion, struck John with all the emotion of art. He reproached +himself for having dreamed of her rather as a wife than as a sister, and +then all art and all conscience went down as a broken wreck in the wild +washing sea of deep human love: he knelt by her bedside, and sobbed +piteously, a man whose life is broken. + +When they next saw her she was in her coffin. It was almost full of +white blossoms--jasmine, Eucharis lilies, white roses, and in the midst +of the flowers you saw the hands folded, and the face was veiled with +some delicate filmy handkerchief. + +For the funeral there were crosses and wreaths of white flowers, roses +and stephanotis. And the Austin girls and their cousins who had come +from Brighton and Worthing carried loose flowers. How black and sad, how +homely and humble they seemed. Down the short drive, through the iron +gate, through the farm gate, the bearers staggering a little under the +weight of lead, the little cortège passed two by two. A broken-hearted +lover, a grief-stricken father, and a dozen sweet girls, their eyes and +cheeks streaming with tears. Kitty, their girl-friend was dead, dead, +dead! The words rang in their hearts in answer to the mournful tolling +of the bell. The little by-way along which they went, the little green +path leading over the hill, under trees shot through and through with +the whiteness of summer seas, was strewn with blossoms fallen from the +bier and the dolent fingers of the weeping girls. + +The old church was all in white; great lilies in vases, wreaths of +stephanotis; and, above all, roses--great garlands of white roses had +been woven, and they hung along and across. A blossom fell, a sob +sounded in the stillness; and how trivial it all seemed, and how +impotent to assuage the bitter burning of human sorrow: how paltry and +circumscribed the old grey church, with its little graveyard full of +forgotten griefs and aspirations! This hour of beautiful sorrow and +roses, how long will it be remembered? The coffin sinks out of sight, +out of sight for ever, a snow-drift of delicate bloom descending into +the earth. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +From the Austin girls, whose eyes followed him, from Mr Hare, from Mrs +Norton, John wandered sorrowfully away,--he wandered through the green +woods and fields into the town. He stood by the railway gates. He saw +the people coming and going in and out of the public houses; and he +watched the trains that whizzed past, and he understood nothing, not +even why the great bar of the white gate did not yield beneath the +pressure of his hands; and in the great vault of the blue sky, white +clouds melted and faded to sheeny visions of paradise, to a white form +with folded wings, and eyes whose calm was immortality.... + +A train stopped. He took a ticket and went to Brighton. As they +steamed along a high embankment, he found himself looking into a +little suburban cemetery. The graves, the yews, the sharp church spire +touching the range of the hills. _Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust +to dust_, and the dread responsive rattle given back by the coffin lid. +He watched the group in the distant corner, and its very remoteness and +removal from his personal knowledge and concern, moved him to passionate +grief and tears.... + +He walked through the southern sunlight of the town to the long expanse +of sea. The mundane pier is taut and trim, and gay with the clangour +of the band, the brown sails of the fishing boats wave in the translucid +greens of water; and the white field of the sheer cliff, and all the +roofs, gables, spires, balconies, and the green of the verandahs are +exquisitely indicated and elusive in the bright air; and the beach +is strange with acrobats and comic songs, nursemaids lying on the +pebbles reading novels, children with their clothes tied tightly about +them building sand castles zealously; see the lengthy crowd of +promenaders--out of its ranks two little spots of mauve come running +to meet the advancing wave, and now they fly back again, and now they +come again frolicking like butterflies, as gay and as bright. + +Under the impulse of his ravening grief, John watched the spectacle +of the world's forgetfulness, and the seeming obscenity horrified him +even to the limits of madness. He cried that it might pass from him. +Solitude--the solemn peace of the hills, the appealing silence of a +pine wood at even; how holy is the idea of solitude, find it where you +will. The Gothic pile, the apostles and saints of the windows, the deep +purples and crimsons, and the sunlight streaming through, and the +pathetic responses and the majesty of the organ do not take away, but +enhance and affirm the sensation of idea and God. The quiet rooms +austere with Latin and crucifix; John could see them. Fondly he allowed +these fancies to linger, but through the dream a sense of reality began +to grow, and he remembered the narrowness of the life, when viewed from +the material side, and its necessary promiscuousness, and he thought +with horror of the impossibility of the preservation of that personal +life, with all its sanctuary-like intensity, which was so dear to him. +He waved away all thought of priesthood, and walking quickly down the +pier, looking on the gay panorama of town and beach, he said, "The +world shall be my monastery." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MERE ACCIDENT*** + + +******* This file should be named 11733-8.txt or 11733-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/3/11733 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: A Mere Accident</p> +<p>Author: George Moore</p> +<p>Release Date: March 28, 2004 [eBook #11733]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: iso-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MERE ACCIDENT***</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><h3>E-text prepared by Jon Ingram, David Cavanagh,<br> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<h1>A MERE ACCIDENT</h1> + +<h2>BY GEORGE MOORE</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "A MUMMER'S WIFE," "A MODERN LOVER,"<br> +"A DRAMA IN MUSLIN,""SPRING DAYS," ETC.</h4> + +<h4>FIFTH EDITION</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<center> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX.</b></a><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X.</b></a><br><br> + </center> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<b>TO: My Friends at Buckingham.</b> + +<p>Nearly twenty years have gone since first we met, dear friends; time has +but strengthened our early affections, so for love token, for sign of +the years, I bring you this book—these views of your beautiful house +and hills where I have spent so many happy days, these last perhaps the +happiest of all.</p> + +G. M. + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<h1>A MERE ACCIDENT</h1> +<p> </p> +<a name="CHAPTER_I"></a><h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. The grasses are lush, and the hedges are tall +and luxuriant. Restless boys scramble to and fro, quiet nursemaids +loiter, and a vagrant has sat down to rest though the bank is dripping +with autumn rain. How fair a prospect of southern England! Land of +exquisite homeliness and order; land of town that is country, of country +that is town; land of a hundred classes all deftly interwoven and all +waxing to one class—England. Land encrowned with the gifts of peaceful +days—days that live in thy face and the faces of thy children.</p> + +<p>See it. The outlying villas with their porches and laurels, the red +tiled farm houses, and the brown barns, clustering beneath the wings of +beautiful trees—elm trees; see the flat plots of ground of the market +gardens, with figures bending over baskets of roots; see the factory +chimney; there are trees and gables everywhere; see the end of the +terrace, the gleam of glass, the flower vase, the flitting white of the +tennis players; see the long fields with the long team ploughing, see +the parish church, see the embowering woods, see the squire's house, see +everything and love it, for everything here is England.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road, leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. It disappears in the woods which lean across the +fields towards the downs. The great bluff heights can be seen, and at +the point where the roads cross, where the tall trunks are listed with +golden light, stands a large wooden gate and a small box-like lodge. A +lonely place in a densely-populated county. The gatekeeper is blind, and +his flute sounds doleful and strange, and the leaves are falling.</p> + +<p>The private road is short and stony. Apparently space was found for it +with difficulty, and it got wedged between an enormous holly hedge and a +stiff wooden paling. But overhead the great branches fight upwards +through a tortuous growth to the sky, and, as you advance, Thornby Place +continues to puzzle you with its medley of curious and contradictory +aspects. For as the second gate, which is in iron, is approached, your +thoughts of rural things are rudely scattered by sight of what seems a +London mews. Reason with yourself. This very urban feature is occasioned +by the high brick wall which runs parallel with the stables, and this, +as you pass round to the front of the house, is hidden in the clothing +foliage of a line of evergreen oaks; continuing along the lawn, the +trees bend about the house—a wash of Naples-yellow, a few sharp Italian +lines and angles. To complete the sketch, indicate the wings of the +blown rooks on the sullen sky.</p> + +<p>But our purpose lies deeper than that which inspires a water-colour +sketch. We must learn when and why that house was built; we must see how +the facts reconcile its somewhat tawdry, its somewhat suburban aspect, +with the richer and more romantic aspects of the park. The park is even +now, though it be the middle of autumn, full of blowing green, and the +brown circling woods, full of England and English home life. That single +tree in the foreground is a lime; what a splendour of leafage it will be +in the summer! Those four on the right are chestnuts, and those far +away, lying between us and the imperial downs, are elms; through that +vista you can see the grand line, the abrupt hollows, and the bit of +chalk road cut zig-zag out of the steep side. Then why the anomaly of +Italian urns and pilasters; why not red Elizabethan gables and diamond +casements?</p> + +<p>Why not? Because at the beginning of the century, when Brighton was +being built, fragments of architectural gossip were flying about Sussex, +and one of these had found its way to, and had rested in, the heart of +the grandfather of the present owner: in a simple and bucolic way he had +been seized by a desire for taste and style, and the present building +was the result. Therefore it will be well to examine in detail the house +which young John Norton of '86 was so fond of declaring he could never +see without becoming instantly conscious of a sense of dislike, a hatred +that he was fond of describing as a sort of constitutional complaint +which he was never quite free from, and which any view of the Rockery, +or the pilasters of the French bow-window, or indeed of anything +pertaining to Thornby Place, called at once into an active existence.</p> + +<p>Thornby Place is but two stories high, and its spruce walls of Portland +stone and ashlar work rise sheer out of the green sward; in front, Doric +columns support a heavy entablature, and there are urns at the corners +of the building. The six windows on the ground floor are topped with +round arches, and coming up the drive the house seems a perfect square. +But this regularity of structure has on the east side been somewhat +interfered with by a projection of some thirty or forty feet—a billiard +room, in fine, which during John's minority Mrs Norton had thought +proper to add. But she had lived to rue her experiment, for to this +young man, with his fretful craving for beauty and exactness of +proportion, it is an ever present source of complaint; and he had once +in a half humorous, half serious way, gone so far as to avail himself of +the "eyesore," as he called it, to excuse his constant absence from +home, and as a pretence for shutting himself up in his dear college, +with his cherished Latin authors. It was partly for the sake of avenging +himself on his mother, whose decisive practicality jarred the delicate +music of a nature extravagantly ideal, that he so severely criticised +all that she held sacred; and his strictures fell heaviest on the bow +window, looking somewhat like a temple with its small pilasters +supporting the rich cornice from which the dwarf vaulting springs. The +loggia, he admitted, although painfully out of keeping with the +surrounding country, was not wholly wanting in design, and he admired +its columns of a Doric order, and likewise the cornice that like a crown +encompasses the house. The entrance is under the loggia; there are round +arched windows on either side, a square window under the roof, and the +hall door is in solid oak studded with ornamental nails.</p> + +<p>On entering you find yourself in a common white-painted passage, and on +either side of the drawing-room and dining-room are four allegorical +female heads: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Further on is the +hall, with its short polished oak stairway sloping gently to a balcony; +and there are white painted pillars that support the low roof, and these +pillars make a kind of entrance to the passage which traverses the +house from end to end. England—England clear and spotless! Nowhere do +you find a trace of dust or disorder. The arrangement of things is +somewhat mechanical. The curtains and wall-paper in the bedrooms are +suggestive of trades people and housemaids; no hastily laid aside book +or shawl breaks the excessive orderliness. Every piece of furniture is +in its appointed place, and nothing testifies to the voluntariness of +the occupant, or the impulse prompted by the need of the moment. On the +presses at the ends of the passages, where is stored the house linen, +cards are hung bearing this inscription: "When washing the woodwork the +servants are requested to use no soda without first obtaining permission +from Mrs Norton." This detail was especially distasteful to John; he +often thought of it when away, and it was one of the many irritating +impressions which went to make up the sum of his dislike of Thornby +Place.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton is now crying her last orders to the servants; and although +dressed elaborately as if to receive visitors, she has not yet laid +aside her basket of keys. She is in her forty-fifth year. Her figure is +square and strong, and not devoid of matronly charm. It approves a +healthy mode of life, and her quick movements are indicative of her +sharp determined mind. Her face is somewhat small for her shoulders, the +temples are narrow and high, the nose is long and thin, the cheek bones +are prominent, the chin is small, but unsuggestive of weakness, the lips +are pinched, the complexion is flushed, and the eyes set close above the +long thin nose are an icy grey. Mrs Norton is a handsome woman. Her +fashionably-cut silk fits her perfectly; the skirt is draped with grace +and precision, and the glossy shawl with the long soft fringe is elegant +and delightfully mundane. She raises her double gold eyeglasses, and, +contracting her forehead, stares pryingly about her; and so fashionable +is she, and her modernity is so picturesque, that for a moment you think +of the entrance of a duchess in the first act of a piece by Augier +played on the stage of the Français.</p> + +<p>Still holding her gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she descended the +broad stairs to the hall, and from thence she went into the library. +There are two small bookcases filled with sombre volumes, and the busts +of Molière and Shakespeare attempt to justify the appellation. But there +is in the character, I was almost going to say in the atmosphere of the +room, that same undefinable, easily recognizable something which +proclaims the presence of non-readers. The traces of three or four days, +at the most a week, which John occasionally spent at Thornby Place, were +necessarily ephemeral, and the weakness of Mrs Norton's sight rendered +continuous reading impossible. Sometimes Kitty Hare brought a novel from +the circulating library to read aloud, and sometimes John forgot one of +his books, and a volume of Browning still lay on the table. The room was +filled with shadow and mournfulness, and in a dusty grate the fire +smouldered.</p> + +<p>Between this room and the drawing-room, in a recess formed by the bow +window, Mrs Norton kept her birds, and still peering through her +gold-rimmed glasses, she examined their seed-troughs and water-glasses, +and, having satisfied herself as to their state, she entered the +drawing-room. There is little in this room; no pictures relieve the +widths of grey colourless wall paper, and the sombre oak floor is spaced +with a few pieces of furniture—heavy furniture enshrouded in grey linen +cloths. Three French cabinets, gaudy with vile veneer and bright brass, +are nailed against the walls, and the empty room is reflected dismally +in the great gold mirror which faces the vivid green of the sward and +the duller green of the encircling elms of the park.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton let her eyes wander, and sighing she went into the +dining-room. The dining-room is always the most human of rooms, and the +dining-room in Thornby Place, although allied to the other rooms in an +absence of fancy in its arrangement, shows prettily in contrast to them +with its white cloth cheerful with flowers and ferns. The floor is +covered with a tightly stretched red cloth, the chairs are set in +symmetrical rows; with the exception of a black clock there is no +ornament on the chimney-piece, and a red cloth screen conceals the door +used by the servants.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton walked with her quiet decisive step to the window, and +holding the gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she looked into the +landscape as if she were expecting someone to appear. The day was grimy +with clouds; mist had risen, and it hung out of the branches of the elms +like a veil of white gauze. Withdrawing her eye from the vague prospect +before her, Mrs Norton played listlessly with the tassel of one of the +blinds. "Surely," she thought, "he cannot have been foolish enough to +have walked over the downs such a day as this;" then, raising her +glasses again she looked out at the smallest angle with the wall of the +house, so that she should get sight of a vista through which any one +coming from Shoreham would have to pass. Presently a silhouette +appeared on the sullen sky. Mrs Norton moved precipitately from the +window, and she rang the bell sharply.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, "Mr Hare has been going in for one of his long walks. +I see him now coming across the park. I am sure he has walked over the +downs; if so he must be wet through. Have a fire lighted in Mr Norton's +room, put up a pair of slippers for him: here is the key of Mr Norton's +wardrobe; let Mr Hare have what he wants."</p> + +<p>And having detached one from the many bunches which filled her basket, +she went herself to open the door to her visitor. He was however still +some distance away, and standing in the shelter of the loggia she waited +for him, watched the vague silhouette resolving itself into colour and +line. But it was not until he climbed the iron fence which separated the +park from the garden grounds that the figure grew into its +individuality. Then you saw a man of about forty, about the medium +height and inclined to stoutness. His face was round and florid, and it +was set with sandy whiskers. His white necktie proclaimed him a parson, +and the grey mud with which his boots were bespattered told of his long +walk. As is generally the case with those of his profession, he spoke +fluently, his voice was melodious, and his rapid answers and his bright +eyes saved him from appearing commonplace. In addressing Mrs Norton he +used her Christian name.</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, Lizzie, you are quite right; I shouldn't have done +it: had I known what a state the roads were in, I wouldn't have +attempted it."</p> + +<p>"What is the use of talking like that, as if you didn't know what these +roads were like! For twenty years you have been making use of them, and +if you don't know what they are like in winter by this time, all I can +say is that you never will."</p> + +<p>"I never saw them in the state they are now; such a slush of chalk and +clay was never seen."</p> + +<p>"What can you expect after a month of heavy rain? You are wringing wet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was caught in a heavy shower as I was crossing over by +Fresh-Combe-bottom. I am certainly not in a fit state to come into your +dining-room."</p> + +<p>"I should think not indeed! I really believe if I were to allow it, you +would sit the whole afternoon in your wet clothes. You'll find +everything ready for you in John's room. I'll give you ten minutes. I'll +tell them to bring up lunch in ten minutes. Stay, will you have a glass +of wine before going upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid of spoiling your carpet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed! not one step further! I'll fetch it for you."</p> + +<p>When the parson had drunk the wine, and was following the butler +upstairs, Mrs Norton returned to the dining-room with the empty glass in +her hand. She placed it on the chimney piece; she stirred the fire, and +her thoughts flowed pleasantly as she dwelt on the kindness of her old +friend. "He only got my note this morning," she mused. "I wonder if he +will be able to persuade John to return home." Mrs Norton, in her own +hard, cold way, loved her son, but in truth she thought more of the +power of which he was the representative than of the man himself: the +power to take to himself a wife—a wife who would give an heir to +Thornby Place. This was to be the achievement of Mrs Norton's life, and +the difficulties that intervened were too absorbing for her to think +much whether her son would find happiness in marriage; nor was it +natural to her to set much store on the refining charm and the uniting +influences of mental sympathies. Had she not passed the age when the +sentimental emotions are liveliest? And the fibre was wanting in her to +take into much account the whispering or the silence of passion.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton saw in marriage nothing but the child, and in the child +nothing but an heir—that is to say, a male who would continue the name +and traditions of Thornby Place. This would seem to indicate a material +nature, but such a misapprehension arises from the common habit of +confusing pure thought—thought which proceeds direct from the brain +and lives uncoloured by the material wants of life—with instincts whose +complexity often causes them to appear as mental potentialities, whereas +they are but instincts, inherited promptings, and aversions more or less +modified by physical constitution and the material forces of the life in +which the constitution has grown up; and yet, though pure thought, that +is to say the power of detaching oneself from the webs of life and +viewing men and things from a height, is the rarest of gifts, many are +possessed of sufficient intellectuality to enjoy with the brain apart +from the senses. Mrs Norton was such an one. After five o'clock tea she +would ask Kitty to read to her, and drawing her shawl about her +shoulders, would readily abandon the intellectual side of her nature to +the seductive charm of the romantic story of James of Scotland; and +while to the girl the heroism and chivalry were a little clouded by the +quaint turns of Rossetti's verse, to the woman these were added +delights, which her quiet penetrating understanding followed and took +instant note of.</p> + +<p>"Were mother and son ever so different?" was the common remark. The +artistic was the side of Mrs Norton's character that was unaffectedly +kept out of sight, just as young John Norton was careful to hide from +public knowledge his strict business habits, and to expose, perhaps a +little ostentatiously, the spiritual impulses in which he was so deeply +concerned: the subtle refinement of sacred places, from the mystery of +the great window with its mitres and croziers to the sunlit path between +the tombs where the children play, the curious and yet natural charm +that attendance in the sacristy had for him, the arrangement of the +large oak presses, wherein are stored the fine altar linen and the +chalices, the distributing of the wine and water that were not for +bodily need, and the wearing of the flowing surplices, the murmuring of +the Latin responses that helped so wonderfully to enforce the impression +of beautiful and refined life which was his, and which he lived beyond +the gross influences of the wholly temporal life which he knew was +raging almost but not quite out of hearing. But, however marked may be +the accidental variations of character, hereditary instincts are +irresistible, and in obedience to them John neglected nothing that +concerned his pecuniary instincts. He was in daily communication with +his agent, and the financial position of every farmer, and the state of +every farm on his property, were not only known to him but were +constantly borne in mind, and influenced him in that progressive +ordering of things which marked the administration of his property. He +was furnished quarterly with an account of all monies paid, to which +were joined descriptive notes of each farm, showing what alterations the +past three months had brought, and setting forth the agricultural +intentions and abilities of the occupier.</p> + +<p>John Norton waited the arrival of these accounts with a keen interest: +they were a relish to his life; and without experiencing any revulsion +of feeling, he would lay down a portfolio filled with photographs of +drawings by Leonardo da Vinci—studies of drapery, studies of hands and +feet, realistic studies of thin-lipped women and ecstatic angels with +the light upon their high foreheads—and cheerfully, and even with a +sense of satisfaction, he would untie the bald, prosaic roll of paper, +and seating himself at his window overlooking the long terrace, he would +add up the figures submitted to him, detecting the smallest arithmetical +error, making note of the least delay in payment of any money due, and +questioning the slightest overpayment for work done. The morning hours +fled as he pursued his congenial task; and from time to time he would +let his thoughts wander from the teasing computation of the money that +would be required to make the repairs that a certain farmer had +demanded, to the unworldly quiet of the sacristy; he would think, and +his thoughts contained an evanescent sense of the paradox, of the altar +linen he would have to fold and put away, and of the altar breads he +would presently have to write to London for; and meanwhile his eyes +would follow in delight the black figures of the Jesuits, who, with +cassocks blowing and berrettas set firmly on their heads, walked up and +down the long gravel walks reading their breviaries.</p> + +<p>And living thus, half in the persuasive charm of ceremonial, half in the +hard procession of account books, the last three years of John's life +had passed. On coming of age he had spent a few weeks at Thornby Place, +but the place, and especially the country, had appeared to him so +grossly protestant—so entirely occupied with the material +well-to-doness of life—that he declared he longed to breathe again the +breath of his beloved sacristy, that he must away from that close and +oppressive atmosphere of the flesh. Since then, with the exception of a +few visits of a few days he had lived at Stanton College, writing to his +mother not of the business which concerned his property, but of mental +problems and artistic impulses. On business matters he never consulted +her; but he thought it fortunate that she should choose to spend her +jointure on Thornby Place, and so save him a great deal of expense in +keeping up the house, which, although he disliked it with a dislike that +had grown inveterate, he was still unwilling to allow to fall to ruins.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton, as has been said, was capable of understanding much in the +abstract; so long as things, and ideas of things, did not come within +the circle of her practical life, they were judged from a liberal +standpoint, but so soon as they touched any personal consideration, they +were judged by a moral code that in no way corresponded to her +intellectual comprehension of the matter she so unhesitatingly +condemned. But by this it must by no means be understood that Mrs Norton +wore her conscience easily—that it was a garment that could be +shortened or lengthened to suit all weathers. Our diagnosis of Mrs +Norton's character involves no accusation of laxity of principle. Mrs +Norton was a woman with an intelligence, who had inherited in all its +primary force a code of morals that had grown up in the narrower minds +of less gifted generations. In talking to her you were conscious of two +active and opposing principles: reason and hereditary morality. I use +"opposing" as being descriptive of the state of soul that would +generally follow from such mental contradiction, but in Mrs Norton no +shocking conflict of thought was possible, her mind being always +strictly subservient to her instinctive standard of right and wrong.</p> + +<p>And John had inherited the moral temperament of his mother's family, and +with it his mother's intelligence, nor had the equipoise been disturbed +in the transmitting; his father's delicate constitution in inflicting +germs of disease had merely determined the variation represented by the +marked artistic impulses which John presented to the normal type of +either his father's or his mother's family. It would therefore seem that +any too sudden corrective of defect will result in anomaly, and, in the +case under notice, direct mingling of perfect health with spinal +weakness had germinated into a marked yearning for the heroic ages, for +the supernatural as contrasted with the meanness of the routine of +existence. And now before closing this psychical investigation, and +picking up the thread of the story, which will of course be no more than +an experimental demonstration of the working of the brain into which we +are looking, we must take note of two curious mental traits both living +side by side, and both apparently negative of the other's existence: an +intense and ever pulsatory horror of death, a sullen contempt and often +a ferocious hatred of life. The stress of mind engendered by the +alternating of these themes of suffering would have rendered life an +unbearable burden to John, had he not found anchorage in an invincible +belief in God, a belief which set in stormily for the pomp and opulence +of Catholic ceremonial, for the solemn Gothic arch and the jewelled joy +of painted panes, for the grace and the elegance and the order of +hieratic life.</p> + +<p>In a being whose soul is but the shadow of yours, a second soul looking +towards the same end as your soul, or in a being whose soul differs +radically, and is concerned with other satisfactions and other ideals, +you will most probably find some part of the happiness of your dreams, +but in intercourse with one who is grossly like you, but who is +absolutely different when the upper ways of character are taken into +account, there will be—no matter how inexorable are the ties that bind +—much fret and irritation and noisy clashing. It was so with John +Norton and his mother; even in the exercise of faculties that had been +directly transmitted from one to the other there had been angry +collision. For example:—their talents for business were identical; but +while she thought the admirable conduct of her affairs was a thing to be +proud of, he would affect an air of negligence, and would willingly +have it believed that he lived independent of such gross necessities. +Then his malady—for intense depression of the spirits was a malady with +him—offered an ever-recurring cause of misunderstanding. How irritating +it was when he lay shut up in his room, his soul looking down with +murderous eyes on the poor worm that writhed out its life in view of the +pitiless stars, and longing with a fierce wild longing to shake off the +burning garment of consciousness, and plunge into the black happiness of +the grave, to hear Mrs Norton on the threshold uttering from time to +time admonitory remarks.</p> + +<p>"You should not give way to such feelings, sir; you should not allow +yourself to be unhappy. Look at me, am I unhappy? and I have more to +bear with than you, but I am not always thinking of myself.... I am in +fairly good health, and I am always cheerful! Why are you not the same? +You bring it all upon yourself; I have no pity for you.... You should +cease to think of yourself, and try to do your duty."</p> + +<p>John groaned when he heard this last word. He knew very well what his +mother meant. He should buy three hunters, he should marry. These were +the anodynes that were offered to him in and out of season. "Bad enough +that I should exist! Why precipitate another into the gulf of being?" +"Consort with men whose ideal hovers between a stable boy and a +veterinary surgeon;" and then, amused by the paradox, John, to whom the +chase was evocative of forests, pageantry, spears, would quote some +stirring verses of an old ballad, and allude to certain pictures by +Rubens, Wouvermans, and Snyders. "Why do you talk in that way?" "Why do +you seek to make yourself ridiculous?" Mrs Norton would retort.</p> + +<p>Smiling just a little sorrowfully, John would withdraw, and on the +following day he would leave for Stanton College. And it was thus that +Mrs Norton's temper scarred with deep wounds a nature so pale and +delicate, so exposed that it seemed as if wanting an outer skin; and as +Thornby Place appeared to him little more than a comprehensive symbol +of what he held mean, even obscene in life, his visits had grown shorter +and fewer, until now his absence extended to the verge of the second +year, and besieged by the belief that he was contemplating priesthood, +Mrs Norton had written to her old friend, saying that she wanted to +speak to him on matters of great importance. Now maturing her plans for +getting her boy back, she stood by the bare black mantel-piece, her head +leaning on her hand. She uttered an exclamation when Mr Hare entered.</p> + +<p>"What," she said, "you haven't changed your things, and I told you you +would find a suit of John's clothes. I must insist—"</p> + +<p>"My dear Lizzie, no amount of insistance would get me into a pair of +John's trousers. I am thirteen stone and a half, and he is not much over +ten."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I had forgotten, but what are you to do? Something must be done, +you will catch your death of cold if you remain in your wet clothes.... +You are wringing wet."</p> + +<p>"No, I assure you I am not. My feet were a little wet, but I have +changed my stockings and shoes. And now, tell me, Lizzie, what there is +for lunch," he said, speaking rapidly to silence Mrs Norton, whom he saw +was going to protest again.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know it is difficult to get much at this season of the year. +There are some chickens and some curried rabbit, but I am afraid you +will suffer for it if you remain the whole of the afternoon in those wet +clothes; I really cannot, I will not allow it."</p> + +<p>"My dear Lizzie, my dear Lizzie," cried the parson, laughing all over +his rosy skinned and sandy whiskered face, "I must beg of you not to +excite yourself. I have no intention of committing any of the +imprudences you anticipate. I will trouble you for a wing of that +chicken. James, I'll take a glass of sherry,... and while I am eating it +you shall explain as succinctly as possible the matter you are minded +to consult me on, and when I have mastered the subject in all its +various details, I will advise you to the best of my power, and having +done so I will start on my walk across the hills."</p> + +<p>"What! you mean to say you are going to walk home?... We shall have +another downpour presently."</p> + +<p>"Even so. I cannot come to much harm so long as I am walking, whereas if +I drove home in your carriage I might catch a chill.... It is at least +ten miles to Shoreham by the road, while across the hills it is not more +than six."</p> + +<p>"Six! it is eight if it is a yard!"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps it is; but tell me, I am curious to hear what you want to +talk to me about.... Something about John, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is, what else have I to think about; what else concerns +middle-aged people like you and me but our children? Of course I want to +talk to you about John. Something must be done, things cannot go on as +they are. Why, it is nearly two years since he has been home. Oh, that +boy is breaking my heart, and none suspects it. If you knew how it +annoys me when the Gardiners and the Prestons congratulate me on having +a son so well behaved. They know he looks after his property sharp +enough, no drinking, no bad company, no debts. Ah! they little know.... +I would much sooner he were wild and foolish: young men get over those +kind of faults, but he will never get over his."</p> + +<p>Mr Hare felt these views to be of a doubtful orthodoxy, but he did not +press his opinion, and contented himself with murmuring gently that for +the moment he did not see that John's faults were of a particularly +aggravated character.</p> + +<p>"You do not see that his faults should cause me any uneasiness! Perhaps +it is very lucky he is not here, or you might encourage him in them. I +suppose you think he is doing quite right in spending his life at +Stanton College, aping a priest and talking about Gothic arches. Is it a +proper thing to transact all his business through a solicitor, and +never to see his tenants? Why does he not come and live at his own +beautiful place? Why does he not take up his position in the county? He +is not a magistrate. Why does he not get married?... he is the last; +there is no one to follow him. But he never thinks of that—he is afraid +that a woman might prove a disturbing influence in his life ... he feels +that he must live in an atmosphere of higher emotions. That's the way he +talks, and he is meditating, I assure you, a book on the literature of +the Middle Ages, on the works of bishops and monks who wrote Latin in +the early centuries. His mind, he says, is full of the cadences of that +language. That's the way he writes. He never asks me about his property, +never consults me in anything. Here is a letter I received yesterday. +Listen:</p> +<br> +<p>"'The poverty of spiritual life amid the western pagans could not fail to +encourage the growth of new religious tendencies. An epoch of great +spiritual activity had been succeeded by one of complete stagnation. A +glance at the literary progress of Rome since Tiberius will show this +emancipation from national and political considerations, the influence +of cosmopolitanism gave to the best specimens of Latin prose of the +silver age such riches and variety of substance and such individuality +of expression, that Seneca and Tacitus and the letters of Pliny are +marked with many modern characteristics. Form and language appear in +these writers only as the instrument and the matter wherewith men of +genius would express their intimate personality. Here antique culture +rises above itself, but, mark you, at the expense of all that is proper +to the Roman nation. Cosmopolitan Hellenism forces and breaks down the +bars of classical traditions, and, weary of restrictions these writers +first sought personal satisfaction, and then addressed themselves to +scholars rather than the people.</p> + +<p>"'But Hellenism found its medium in the Greek language, rich to +satiety, and possessing a syntax of such extraordinary flexibility, that +it could follow all evolutions without being shaken in its organism. It +was in vain that the Latin literature sought to maintain its position by +harking back to the writers anterior to Cicero, those that Hellenism had +not touched, and presenting them as models of style; and thus a new +school very fain of antiquity had sprung up, with Fronto for its +acknowledged chief—a school pre-occupied above all things by the form; +obsolete words set in a new setting, modern words introduced into old +cadences to freshen them with a bright and delightful varnish, in a +word, a language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea +and evanescent music—a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency +that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays—an autumn +forest.'</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to +call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediæval +Latin. And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton +College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical +cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.' +Do you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would +you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the +chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about +organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever +hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it +would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them +better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I want +you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow, or +next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must +tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year, +building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent, +but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks +he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just +fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to +distant relatives—to those terrible cousins of ours."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have +not seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I +don't think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are +after his money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the +priesthood in order that they may get hold of his property."</p> + +<p>"No, no; you must not say such a thing. I will not have you say anything +against his religion. I was very wrong to suggest such a thing. I am +sure no such idea ever entered the Jesuits' heads. Perhaps I am wrong to +send you to them.... Now I depend on you not to speak to him on +religious subjects."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_II"></a><h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Mrs Norton had known William Hare all her life. She was the youngest +daughter, he the youngest son of equal Yorkshire families. Separated by +about a mile of pasture and woodland, these families had for generations +lived unanimous lives. In England the hunting field, the grouse moor, +the croquet and tennis lawn, with its charming adjunct the five-o'clock +tea-table, have made life in certain classes almost communal; and Mrs +Norton and William Hare had stood in white frocks under Christmas trees +and shared sweetmeats. He often thought of the first time he saw her, +wearing a skirt that fell below her ankles, with her hair done up. And +she remembered his first appearance in evening clothes, and how +surprised and delighted she was to hear him ask her if he might have the +pleasure of a waltz.</p> + +<p>He went to Oxford to take his degree; she was taken to London for the +season, and towards the end of the third year she married Mr Norton, and +went to live at Thornby Place. Through the excitement of the marriage +arrangements, and the rapid impressions of her honeymoon, the thought of +having for neighbour the playmate of her youth had flitted across, but +had not rested in, her mind, and she did not realize the charm that it +was for her until one afternoon, now more than twenty years ago, a young +curate, bespattered with the grey mud of the downs, had startled her and +her husband by addressing her as Lizzie. Lizzie she had remained to him, +he was William to her, and henceforth their lives had been indissolubly +linked. Not a week had passed without their seeing each other. There +were visits to pay, there was hunting, and then habit intervened; and +for many years, in suffering, in joy, in hope, their thoughts had +instinctively looked to each other for reflective sympathy, and every +remembrable event was full of mutual associations. He had sat by her +when, after the birth of her first and only child, she lay pale, +beautiful, and weak on a sofa by a window blown by the tide of summer +scent; and the autumn of that same year he had walked with her in the +garden, where the leaves fell like the last illusion of youth under the +tears of an incurable grief; and staying in their walk they looked on +the house which was to be for evermore one of widowhood.</p> + +<p>Had she ever loved him? Had he ever loved her? In moments of passionate +loneliness she had yearned for his protection; in moments of deep +dejection he had dreamed of the happiness he might have found with her; +but in the broad day of their lives they had ever thought of each other +as friends. He had advised her on the management of her estate, on the +education of her son; and in his afflictions—in his widowerhood—when +his children quickly followed their mother to the grave, Mrs Norton's +form, face, and words had steadied him, and had helped him to bear with +a life of crumbling ruin. Kitty was now the only one that remained to +him.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton had had projects of wealth and title for her son, but his +continued disdain of women and the love of women had long since forced +her to abandon her hopes, and now any one he might select she would +gladly welcome; but she whom Mrs Norton would have preferred to all +others was the daughter of her old friend. Her son had deserted her, and +now all her affections were centred in Kitty. Kitty was as much at +Thornby Place as at the Rectory, and in the gaiety of her bright eyes, +and in the shine of her gold-brown hair—for ever slipping from the gold +hair-pins in frizzed masses—Mrs Norton continued her dreams of her +son's marriage.</p> + +<p>Mr Hare thought it harsh that his daughter should be so constantly taken +from him, but the parsonage was so lonely for Kitty, and there were +luncheon and tennis parties at Thornby Place, and Mrs Norton took the +girl out for drives, and together they visited all the county families. +A suspicion of matchmaking sometimes crossed Mr Hare's mind, but it +faded in the knowledge that John was always at Stanton College; and to +send this fair flower to his great—to his only—friend, was a joy, and +the bitterness of temporary loss was forgotten in the sweetness of the +sharing. He had suffered much; but these last years had been quiet, free +from despair at least, and he wished to drift a little longer with the +tide of this time. Why strive to hasten events? If this thing was to be, +it would be. So he had thought of his daughter's marriage. Fancies had +long hung about the confines of his mind, but nothing had struck him +with the full force of a thought until suddenly he understood the exact +purport of his mission to Stanton College. He leaned forward as if he +were going to tell the driver to return, but before he could do so the +lodge-keeper opened the great gate, and the hansom cab rattled under the +archway.</p> + +<p>Then he viewed the scheme in general outline and in remote detail. It +was very simple. Lizzie had been to Shoreham, and had taken Kitty away +with her; he had been sent to Stanton College to beg John Norton to +return to Thornby Place, and to say what he could in favour of marriage +generally. This was very compromising. He had been deceived; Lizzie had +deceived him. She had no right to do such a thing; and, striving to +determine on a line of conduct, Mr Hare examined abstractedly the place +he was passing through.</p> + +<p>In large and serpentine curves the road wound through a wood of small +beech trees—so small that in the November dishevelment the plantations +were like so much brushwood; and, lying behind the wind-swept opening, +gravel walks appeared in grey fragments, and the green spaces of the +cricket field with a solitary divine reading his breviary. The drive +turned and turned again in great sloping curves; more divines were +passed, and then there came a long terrace with a balustrade and a view +of the open country, now full of mist. And to see the sharp spire of +the distant church you had to look closely, and slanting slowly upwards +the great plain drew a long and melancholy line across the sky. The +lower terrace was approached by an imposing flight of steps, there were +myriads of leaves in the air, and the college bell rang in its high red +tower.</p> + +<p>The high red walls of the college faced the dismal terraces, and the +triple line of diamond-paned and iron-barred windows stared upon the +ugly Staffordshire landscape. A square tower squatted in the middle of +the building, and out of it rose the octagon of the bell tower, and in +the tower wall was the great oak door studded with great nails.</p> + +<p>"How Birmingham the whole place does look," thought Mr Hare, as he laid +his hand on an imitation mediæval bell-pull.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr John Norton at home?" he asked when the servant came. "Will you +give him my card, and say that I should like to see him."</p> + +<p>On entering, Mr Hare found himself in a tiled hall, around which was +built a staircase in varnished oak. There was a quadrangle, and from +three sides the interminable latticed windows looked down on the green +sward; on the fourth there was an open corridor, with arches to imitate +a cloister. All was strong and barren, and only about the varnished +staircase was there any sign of comfort. There a virgin in bright blue +stood on a crescent moon; above her the ceiling was panelled in oak, and +the banisters, the cocoa nut matting, the bit of stained glass, and the +religious prints, suggested a mock air of hieratic dignity. And the room +Mr Hare was shown into continued this impression. Cabinets in carved oak +harmonised with high-backed chairs glowing with red Utrecht velvet, and +a massive table, on which lay a folio edition of St Augustine's "City of +God" and the "Epistolæ Consolitoriæ" of St Jerome.</p> + +<p>The bell continued to clang, and through the latticed windows Mr Hare +watched the divines hurrying along the windy terrace, and the tramp of +the boys going to their class-rooms could be heard in passages below.</p> + +<p>Then a young man entered. He was thin, and he was dressed in black. His +face was very Roman, the profile especially was what you might expect to +find on a Roman coin—a high nose, a high cheek-bone, a strong chin, and +a large ear. The eyes were prominent and luminous, and the lower part of +the face was expressive of resolution and intelligence, but above the +eyes there were many indications of cerebral distortions. The forehead +was broad, but the temples retreated rapidly to the brown hair which +grew luxuriantly on the top of the head, leaving what the phrenologists +call the bumps of ideality curiously exposed, and this, taken in +conjunction with the yearning of the large prominent eyes, suggested at +once a clear, delightful intelligence,—a mind timid, fearing, and +doubting, such a one as would seek support in mysticism and dogma, that +would rise instantly to a certain point, but to drop as suddenly as if +sickened by the too intense light of the cold, pure heaven of reason to +the gloom of the sanctuary and the consolations of Faith. Let us turn to +the mouth for a further indication of character. It was large, the lips +were thick, but without a trace of sensuality. They were dim in colour, +they were undefined in shape, they were a little meaningless—no, not +meaningless, for they confirmed the psychological revelations of the +receding temples. The hands were large, powerful, and grasping; they +were earthly hands; they were hands that could take and could hold, and +their materialism was curiously opposed to the ideality of the eyes—an +ideality that touched the confines of frenzy. The shoulders were square +and carried well back, the head was round, with close-cut hair, the +straight-falling coat was buttoned high, and the fashionable collar, +with a black satin cravat, beautifully tied and relieved with a rich +pearl pin, set another unexpected but singularly charmful detail to an +aggregate of apparently irreconcilable characteristics.</p> + +<p>"And how do you do, my dear Mr Hare? and who would have expected to see +you here? I am so glad to see you."</p> + +<p>These words were spoken frankly and cordially, and there was a note of +mundane cheerfulness in the voice which did not quite correspond with +the sacerdotal elegance of this young man. Then he added quickly, as if +to save himself from asking the reason of this very unexpected visit—</p> + +<p>"But you have never been here before; this is the first time you have +seen our college. And seeing it as it now is, you would not believe all +the delightful detail that a ray of sunlight awakens in that hideous +brown monotony, soaked with rain and bedimmed with mist."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can quite understand that the college is not looking its best on +a day like this. We have had very wet weather lately."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, and I am afraid these late rains have interfered with the +harvest. The accounts from the North are very alarming, but in Sussex, I +suppose, everything was over at least two months ago. Still even there +the farmers have been losing money for some time back. I have had to +make some very heavy reductions. Pearson declared he could not possibly +continue at the present rent with corn as low as eight pounds a load. +This is very serious, but it is very difficult to arrive at the truth. I +want to talk to you; but we shall have plenty of time presently; you'll +stay and dine? And I'll show you over the college: you have never been +here before, and now I come to reckon it up, I find I have not seen you +for nearly five years."</p> + +<p>"It must be very nearly that; I missed you the last time you were at +Thornby Place, and that was three years ago."</p> + +<p>"Three years! It sounds very shocking, doesn't it? to have a beautiful +place in Sussex and not to live there: to prefer an ugly red-brick +college—Birmingham Tudor; my mother invented the expression. When she +is in a passion she hits on the very happiest concurrence of words; and +I must say she is right,—the architecture here is appallingly ugly; +and I don't think anything could be done to improve it, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say that I can suggest anything for the moment, but I thought +it was for the sake of the architecture, which I frankly confess I don't +in the least admire, that you lived here."</p> + +<p>"You thought it was for the sake of the architecture...."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you not come home and spend Christmas with your mother!"</p> + +<p>"Christmas! Well, I suppose I ought to. But it will be hard to bear with +the plain Protestantism, the smug materialism of Sussex at such a +season; and when one thinks what the day is commemorative of—"</p> + +<p>"You surely do not mean that you would prefer to see the people +starving? If your dislike of Protestantism rests only on roast beef and +plum pudding...."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't understand. But I beg your pardon—I had really forgotten +...."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Mr Hare smiling; "continue: we were talking of roast +beef and plum pudding—"</p> + +<p>"Well, roast beef and plum pudding, say what you like, is a very +complete figuration of the Protestant ideal. Now let us think of +Sussex.... The villas with their gables, and railings, and laurels, the +snug farm-houses, the market-gardening, but especially the villas, so +representative of a sleepy smug materialism.... Oh, it is horrible; I +cannot think of Sussex without a revulsion of feeling. Sussex is utterly +opposed to the monastic spirit. Why, even the downs are easy, yes, easy +as one of the upholsterer's armchairs of the villa residences. And the +aspect of the county tallies exactly with the state of soul of its +people. In that southern county all is soft and lascivious; there is no +wildness, none of that scenical grandeur which we find in Scotland and +Ireland, and which is emblematic of the yearning of man's soul for +something higher than this mean and temporal life."</p> + +<p>There was rapture in John's eyes. With a quick movement of his hands he +seemed to spurn the entire materialism of Sussex. After a pause, he +continued:</p> + +<p>"There is no asceticism in Sussex, there is no yearning for anything +higher or better. You—yes, you and the whole place are, in every sense +of the word, Conservative—that is to say, brutally satisfied with the +present ordering of things."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, my dear John, by your own account Pearson is not by any means +so satisfied with the present condition of things as you yourself would +wish him to be."</p> + +<p>John laughed loudly, and it was clear that the paradox in no way +displeased him.</p> + +<p>"But we were speaking," he continued, "not of temporal, but of spiritual +pains and penalties. Now, anyone who did not know me—and none will ever +know me—would think that I had not a care in the world. Well, I have +suffered as horribly, I have been tortured as cruelly, as ever poor +mortal was.... I have lain on the floor of my room, my heart dead +within me, and moaned and shrieked with horror."</p> + +<p>"Horror of what?"</p> + +<p>"Horror of death and a worse horror of life. Few amongst men ever +realise the truth of things, but there are rare occasions, moments of +supernatural understanding or suffering (which are two words for one and +the same thing), when we see life in all its worm-like meanness, and +death in its plain, stupid loathsomeness. Two days out of this year live +like fire in my mind. I went to my uncle Richard's funeral. There was +cold meat and sherry on the table; a dreadful servant asked me if I +would go up to the corpse-room. (Mark the expression.) I went. It lay +swollen and featureless, and two busy hags lifted it up and packed it +tight with wisps of hay, and mechanically uttered shrieks and moans.</p> + +<p>"But, though the funeral was painfully obscene, it was not so obscene as +the view of life I was treated to last week....</p> + +<p>"Last week I was in London; I went to a place they call the 'Colonies.' +Till then I had never realised the foulness of the human animal, but +there even his foulness was overshadowed by his stupidity. The masses, +yes, I saw the masses, and I fed with them in their huge intellectual +stye. The air was filled with lines of the most inconceivable flags, +lines upon lines of pale yellow, and there were glass cases filled with +pickle bottles, and there were piles of ropes and a machine in motion, +and in nooks there were some dreadful lay figures, and written +underneath them, 'Indian corn-seller,' 'Indian fish-seller.' And there +was the Prince of Wales on horseback, three times larger than life; and +there were stuffed deer upon a rock, and a Polar bear, and the Marquis +of Lome underneath. In another room there were Indian houses, things in +carved wood, and over each large placards announcing the popular dinner, +the <i>buffet</i>, the <i>table d'hôte</i>, at half-a-crown; and there were oceans +of tea, and thousands of rolls of butter, and in the gardens the band +played 'Thine alone' and 'Mine again.'</p> + +<p>"It seemed as if all the back-kitchens and staircases in England had +that day been emptied out—life-tattered housewives, girls grown stout +on porter, pretty-faced babies, heavy-handed fathers, whistling boys in +their sloppy clothes, and attitudes curiously evidencing an odious +domesticity....</p> + +<p>"In the Greek and Roman life there was an ideal, and there was a great +ideal in the monastic life of the Middle Ages; but an ideal is wholly +wanting in nineteenth century life. I am not of these later days. I am +striving to come to terms with life."</p> + +<p>"And you think you can do that best by folding vestments and reviling +humanity. I do not see how you reconcile these opinions with the +teaching of Christ—with the life of Christ."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, if you are going to use those arguments against me, I +have done; I can say no more."</p> + +<p>Mr Hare did not answer, and at the end of a long silence John said:</p> + +<p>"But, what do you say, supposing I show you over the college now, and +when that's done you will come up to my room and we'll have a smoke +before dinner?"</p> + +<p>Mr Hare raised no objection, and the two men descended the staircase +into the long stony corridor. The quadrangle filled the diamond panes of +the latticed windows with green, and the divine walking to and fro was a +spot of black. There were pictures along the walls of the +corridor—pictures of upturned faces and clasped hands—and these drew +words of commiseration for the artistic ignorance of the College +authorities from John's lips.</p> + +<p>"And they actually believe that that dreadful monk with the skull is a +real Ribera.... The chapel is on the right, the refectory on the left. +Come, let us see the chapel; I am anxious to hear what you think of my +window."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be very handsome; it cost five hundred, did it not?"</p> + +<p>"No, not quite so much as that," John answered abruptly; and then, +passing through the communion rails, they stood under the multi-coloured +glory of three bishops. Mr Hare felt that a good deal of rapture was +expected of him; but in his efforts to praise, he felt he was exposing +his ignorance. John called attention to the transparency of the +green-watered skies; and turning their backs on the bishops, the blue +ceiling with the gold stars was declared, all things considered, to be +in excellent taste. The benches in the body of the church were for boys; +the carved chairs set along both walls between the communion rails and +the first steps of the altar were for the divines. The president and +vice-president knelt facing each other. The priests, deacons, and +sub-deacons followed according to their rank. There were slenderer +benches, and these were for the choir; and from a music-book placed on +wings of the great golden eagle, the leader conducted the singing.</p> + +<p>The side altar, with the rich Turkey carpet spread over the steps, was +St George's, and further on, in an addition made lately, there were two +more altars, dedicated respectively to the Virgin and St Joseph.</p> + +<p>"The maid-servants kneel in that corner. I have often suggested that +they should be moved out of sight. You do not understand me. +Protestantism has always been more reconciled to the presence of women +in sacred places than we. We would wish them beyond the precincts. And +it is easy to imagine how the unspeakable feminality of those +maid-servants jars a beautiful impression—the altar towering white with +wax candles, the benedictive odour of incense, the richness of the +vestments, treble voices of boys floating, and the sweetness of a long +day spent about the sanctuary with flowers and chalices in my hands, +fade in a sense of sullen disgust, in a revulsion of feeling which I +will not attempt to justify."</p> + +<p>Then his thoughts, straying back to sudden recollections of monastic +usages and habits, he said:</p> + +<p>"I should like to scourge them out of this place." And then, half +playfully, half seriously, and wholly conscious of the grotesqueness, he +added:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am not at all sure that a good whipping would not do them good. +They should be well whipped. I believe that there is much to be said in +favour of whipping."</p> + +<p>Mr Hare did not answer. He listened like one in a dark and unknown +place. But, as if unconscious of the embarrassment he was creating, John +told of the number of masses that were said daily, and of the eagerness +shown by the boys to obtain an altar. Altar service was rewarded by a +large piece of toast for breakfast. Handsome lads of sixteen were chosen +for acolytes, the torch-bearers were selected from the smallest boys, +the office of censer was filled by John Norton, and he was also the +chief sacristan, and had charge of the altar plate and linen and the +vestments. He spoke of the organ, and he depreciated the present +instrument, and enlarged upon some technical details anent the latest +modern improvements in keys and stops.</p> + +<p>They went up to the organ loft. John would play his setting of St +Ambrose's hymn, "Veni redemptor gentium," if Mr Hare would go to the +bellows, and feeling as if he were being turned into ridicule, Mr Hare +took his place at the handle; and he found it even more embarrassing to +give an opinion on the religiosity of the music, than on the +archæological colouration of the bishops in the window. But John did not +court any very detailed criticism on his hymn, and alluding to the fact +that even in the fourth century accent was beginning to replace +quantity, he led the way to the sacristy.</p> + +<p>And it was impossible to avoid noticing that the opening of the carved +oaken presses, smelling sweet and benignly of orris root and lavender, +acted on John almost as a physical pleasure, and also that his hands +seemed nervous with delight as he unfolded the jewelled embroideries, +and smoothed out the fine linen of the under vestments; and his voice, +too, seemed to gain a sharp tenderness and emotive force, as he told how +these were the gold vestments worn by the bishop, and only on certain +great feast-days, and that these were the white vestments worn on days +especially commemorative of the Virgin. The consideration of the +censers, candlesticks, chalices, and albs took some time, and John was a +little aggressive in his explanation of Catholic ceremonial, and its +grace and comeliness compared with the stiffness and materialism of the +Protestant service.</p> + +<p>From the sacristy they went to the boys' library. John pointed out the +excellent supply of light literature that the bookcases contained.</p> + +<p>"We take travels, history, fairy-tales—romances of all kinds, so long +as sensual passion is not touched upon at any length. Of course we +don't object to a book in which just towards the end the young man falls +in love and proposes; but there must not be much of that sort of thing. +Here are Robert Louis Stevenson's works, 'Treasure Island,' 'Kidnapped,' +&c.c., charming writer—a neat pretty style, with a pleasant souvenir of +Edgar Poe running through it all. You have no idea how the boys enjoy +his books."</p> + +<p>"And don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I have just glanced at him: for my own reading, I can admit none +who does not write in the first instance for scholars, and then to the +scholarly instincts in readers generally. Here is Walter Pater. We have +his Renaissance; studies in art and poetry—I gave it myself to the +library. We were so sorry we could not include that most beautiful book, +'Marius the Epicurean.' We have some young men here of twenty and three +and twenty, and it would be delightful to see them reading it, so +exquisite is its hopeful idealism; but we were obliged to bar it on +account of the story of Psyche, sweetly though it be told, and sweetly +though it be removed from any taint of realistic suggestion. Do you know +the book?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say I do."</p> + +<p>"Then read it at once. It is a breath of delicious fragrance blown back +to us from the antique world; nothing is lost or faded, the bloom of +that glad bright world is upon every page; the wide temples, the lustral +water—the youths apportioned out for divine service, and already happy +with a sense of dedication, the altars gay with garlands of wool and the +more sumptuous sort of flowers, the colour of the open air, with the +scent of the beanfields, mingling with the cloud of incense."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you denied any value to the external world, that the +spirit alone was worth considering."</p> + +<p>"The antique world knew how to idealise, and if they delighted in the +outward form, they did not leave it gross and vile as we do when we +touch it; they raised it, they invested it with a sense of aloofness +that we know not of. Flesh or spirit, idealise one or both, and I will +accept them. But you do not know the book. You must read it. Never did I +read with such rapture of being, of growing to spiritual birth. It +seemed to me that for the first time I was made known to myself; for the +first time the false veil of my grosser nature was withdrawn, and I +looked into the true ethereal eyes, pale as wan water and sunset skies, +of my higher self. Marius was to me an awakening; the rapture of +knowledge came upon me that even our temporal life might be beautiful; +that, in a word, it was possible to somehow come to terms with life.... +You must read it. For instance, can anyone conceive anything more +perfectly beautiful than the death of Flavian, and all that youthful +companionship, and Marius' admiration for his friend's poetry?... that +delightful language of the third century—a new Latin, a season of +dependency, an Indian summer full of strange and varied cadences, so +different from the monotonous sing-song of the Augustan age; the school +of which Fronto was the head. Indeed, it was Pater's book that first +suggested to me the idea of the book I am writing. But perhaps you do +not know I am writing a book.... Did my mother tell you anything about +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she told me you were writing the history of Christian Latin."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is to say, of the language that was the literary, the +scientific, and the theological language of Europe for more than a +thousand years."</p> + +<p>And talking of his book rapidly, and with much boyish enthusiasm, John +opened the doors of the refectory. The long, oaken tables, the great +fireplace, and the stained glass seemed to delight him, and he alluded +to the art classes of monastic life. The class-rooms were peeped into, +the playground was viewed through the lattice windows, and they went to +John's room, up a staircase curiously carpeted with lead.</p> + +<p>John's rooms! a wide, bright space of green painted wood and straw +matting. The walls were panelled from floor to ceiling. In the centre of +the floor there was an oak table—a table made of sharp slabs of oak +laid upon a frame that was evidently of ancient design, probably early +German, a great, gold screen sheltered a high canonical chair with +elaborate carvings, and on a reading-stand close by lay the manuscript +of a Latin poem.</p> + +<p>"And what is this?" said Mr Hare.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that is a poem by Milo, his 'De Sobricate.' I heard that the +manuscript was still preserved in the convent of Saint Amand, near +Tournai, and I sent and had a copy made for me. That was the simplest +way. You have no idea how difficult it is to buy the works of any Latin +authors except those of the Augustan age. Milo was a monk, and he lived +in the eighth century. He was a man of very considerable attainments, +if he were not a very great poet. He was a contemporary of Floras, who, +by the way, was a real poet. Some of his verses are delightful, full of +delicate cadence and colour. The MS. under your hand is a poem by him—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Montes et colles, silvæque et flumina, fontes,</p> +<p>Præruptæque rupes, pariter vallesque profondæ</p> +<p>Francorum lugete genus: quod munere christi,</p> +<p>Imperio celsum jacet ecce in pulvere mersum.'</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"That was written in the eighth century when the language was becoming +terribly corrupt; when it was hideous with popular idiom barbarously and +recklessly employed. But even in that time of autumnal decay and pallid +bloom, a real poet such as Walahfrid Strabat could weave a garland of +grace and beauty; one, indeed, that lived through the chance of +centuries in the minds of men. It found numberless imitators and favour +even with the Humanists, and it was reprinted eight times in the +seventeenth century. This poem is of especial interest to me on account +of the illustration it affords of a theory of my own concerning the +unconsciousness of the true artist. For breaking away from the literary +habitudes of his time, which were to do the gospels or the life of a +favourite saint into hexameters, he wrote a poem, 'Hortulus,' +descriptive of the garden of the monastery. The garden was all the world +to the monks; it furnished them at once with the pleasures and the +necessaries of their lives. Walahfrid felt this; he described his +feelings, and he produced a chef d'œuvre." Going over to the bookcase, +John took down a volume. He read:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Hoc nemus umbriferum pingit viridissima Rutæ</p> +<p>Silvula cœruleæ, foliis quæ prædita parvis,</p> +<p>Umbellas jaculata brevis, spiramina venti</p> +<p>Et radios Phœbi caules transmittit ad imos,</p> +<p>Attactuque graves leni dispergit odores,</p> +<p>Hæc cum multiplici vigeat virtute medelæ,</p> +<p>Dicitur occultis apprime obstare venenis,</p> +<p>Toxicaque invasis incommoda pellere fibris.'</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Now, can anything be more charming? True it is that pingit in the first +line does not seem to construe satisfactorily, and I am not certain that +the poet may not have written <i>fingit</i>. Fingit would not be pure Latin, +but that is beside the question."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is. I must say I prefer the Georgics. I have known many +strange tastes, but your fancy for bad Latin is the strangest of all."</p> + +<p>"Classical Latin, with the exception of Tacitus, is cold-blooded and +self-satisfied. There is no agitation, no fever; to me it is utterly +without interest."</p> + +<p>To the books and manuscripts the pictures on the walls afforded an +abrupt contrast. No. 1. "A Japanese Girl," by Monet. A poppy in the pale +green walls; a wonderful macaw! Why does it not speak in strange +dialect? It trails lengths of red silk. Such red! The pigment is twirled +and heaped with quaint device, until it seems to be beautiful embroidery +rather than painting; and the straw-coloured hair, and the blond light +on the face, and the unimaginable coquetting of that fan....</p> + +<p>No. 2. "The Drop Curtain," by Degas. The drop curtain is fast +descending; only a yard of space remains. What a yardful of curious +comment, what satirical note on the preposterousness of human +existence! what life there is in every line; and the painter has made +meaning with every blot of colour! Look at the two principal dancers! +They are down on their knees, arms raised, bosoms advanced, skirts +extended, a hundred coryphées are clustered about them. Leaning hands, +uplifted necks, painted eyes, scarlet mouths, a piece of thigh, arched +insteps, and all is blurred; vanity, animalism, indecency, absurdity, +and all to be whelmed into oblivion in a moment. Wonderful life; +wonderful Degas!</p> + +<p>No. 3. "A Suburb," by Monet. Snow! the world is white. The furry fluff +has ceased to fall, and the sky is darkling and the night advances, +dragging the horizon up with it like a heavy, deadly curtain. But the +roof of the villa is white, and the green of the laurels shaken free of +the snow shines through the railings, and the shadows that lie across +the road leading to town are blue—yes, as blue as the slates under the +immaculate snow.</p> + +<p>No. 4. "The Cliff's Edge," by Monet. Blue? purple the sea is; no, it is +violet; 'tis striped with violet and flooded with purple; there are +living greens, it is full of fading blues. The dazzling sky deepens as +it rises to breathless azure, and the soul pines for and is fain of God. +White sails show aloft; a line of dissolving horizon; a fragment of +overhanging cliff wild with coarse grass and bright with poppies, and +musical with the lapsing of the summer waves.</p> + +<p>There were in all six pictures—a tall glass filled with pale roses, by +Renoir; a girl tying up her garter, by Monet.</p> + +<p>Through the bedroom door Mr Hare saw a narrow iron bed, an iron +washhand-stand, and a prie-dieu. A curious three-cornered wardrobe stood +in one corner, and facing it, in front of the prie-dieu, a life-size +Christ hung with outstretched arms. The parson looked round for a seat, +but the chairs were like cottage stools on high legs, and the angular +backs looked terribly knife-like.</p> + +<p>"Sit in the arm-chair. Shall I get you a pillow from the next room? +Personally I cannot bear upholstery; I cannot conceive anything more +hideous than a padded arm-chair. All design is lost in that infamous +stuffing. Stuffing is a vicious excuse for the absence of design. If +upholstery was forbidden by law to-morrow, in ten years we should have a +school of design. Then the necessity of composition would be +imperative."</p> + +<p>"I daresay there is a good deal in what you say; but tell me, don't you +find these chairs very uncomfortable. Don't you think that you would +find a good comfortable arm-chair very useful for reading purposes?"</p> + +<p>"No, I should feel far more uncomfortable on a cushion than I do on this +bit of hard oak. Our ancestors had an innate sense of form that we have +not. Look at these chairs, nothing can be plainer; a cottage stool is +hardly more simple, and yet they are not offensive to the eye. I had +them made from a picture by Albert Durer. But tell me, what will you +take to drink? Will you have a glass of champagne, or a brandy and +soda, or what do you say to an absinthe?"</p> + +<p>"'Pon my word, you seem to look after yourself. You don't forget the +inner man."</p> + +<p>"I always keep a good supply of liquor; have a cigar?" And John passed +to him a box of fragrant and richly coloured Havanas.... Mr Hare took a +cigar, and glanced at the table on which John was mixing the drinks. It +was a slip of marble, rested, café fashion, on iron supports.</p> + +<p>"But that table is modern, surely?—quite modern!"</p> + +<p>"Quite; it is a café table, but it does not offend my eye. You surely +would not have me collect a lot of old-fashioned furniture and pile it +up in my rooms, Turkey carpets and Japaneseries of all sorts; a room +such as Sir Fred. Leighton would declare was intended to be merely +beautiful."</p> + +<p>Striving vainly to understand, Mr Hare drank his brandy and soda in +silence. Presently he walked over to the bookcases. There were two: one +was filled with learned-looking volumes bearing the names of Latin +authors; and the parson, who prided himself on his Latinity, was +surprised, and a little nettled, to find so much ignorance proved upon +him. With Tertullian, St Jerome, and St Augustine he was of course +acquainted, but of Lactantius, Prudentius, Sedulius, St Fortunatus, Duns +Scotus, Hibernicus exul, Angilbert, Milo, &c.c., he was obliged to admit +he knew nothing—even the names were unknown to him.</p> + +<p>In the bookcase on the opposite side of the room there were complete +editions of Landor and Swift, then came two large volumes on Leonardo da +Vinci. Raising his eyes, the parson read through the titles of Mr +Browning's work. Tennyson was in a cheap seven-and-six edition; then +came Swinburne, Pater, Rossetti, Morris, two novels by Rhoda Broughton, +Dickens, Thackeray, Fielding, and Smollett; the complete works of +Balzac, Gautier's Emaux et Camées, Salammbo, L'Assommoir; add to this +Carlyle, Byron, Shelley, Keats, &c.c.</p> + +<p>At the end of a long silence, Mr Hare said, glancing once again at the +Latin authors, and walking towards the fire:</p> + +<p>"Tell me, John, are those the books you are writing about? Supposing you +explain to me in a few words the line you are taking. Your mother tells +me that you intend to call your book the History of Christian Latin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had thought of using that title, but I am afraid it is a little +too ambitious. To write the history of a literature extending over at +least eight centuries would entail an appalling amount of reading; and +besides only a few, say a couple of dozen writers out of some hundreds, +are of the slightest literary interest, and very few indeed of any real +æsthetic value. I have been hard at work lately, and I think I know +enough of the literature of the Middle Ages to enable me to make a +selection that will comprise everything of interest to ordinary +scholarship, and enough to form a sound basis to rest my own literary +theories upon. I begin by stating that there existed in the Middle Ages +a universal language such as Goethe predicted the future would again +bring to us....</p> + +<p>"Before the formation of the limbs, that is to say before the German and +Roman languages were developed up to the point of literary usage, the +Latin language was the language of all nations of the western world. But +the day came, in some countries a little earlier, in some a little +later, when it was replaced by the national idioms. The different +literatures of the West had therefore been preceded by a Latin +literature that had for a long time held out a supporting hand to each. +The language of this literature was not a dead language, It was the +language of government, of science, of religion; and a little +dislocated, a little barbarised, it had penetrated to the minds of the +people, and found expression in drinking songs and street ditties.</p> + +<p>"Such is the theme of my book; and it seems to me that a language that +has played so important a part in the world's history is well worthy of +serious study.</p> + +<p>"I show how Christianity, coming as it did with a new philosophy, and a +new motive for life, invigorated and saved the Latin language in a time +of decline and decrepitude. For centuries it had given expression, even +to satiety, to a naive joy in the present; on this theme, all that could +be said had been said, all that could be sung had been sung, and the +Rhetoricians were at work with alliteration and refrain when +Christianity came, and impetuously forced the language to speak the +desire of the soul. In a word, I want to trace the effect that such a +radical alteration in the music, if I may so speak, had upon the +instrument—the Latin language."</p> + +<p>"And with whom do you begin?"</p> + +<p>"With Tertullian, of course."</p> + +<p>"And what do you think of him?"</p> + +<p>"Tertullian, one of the most fascinating characters of ancient or modern +times. In my study of his writings I have worked out a psychological +study of the man himself as revealed through them. His realism, I might +say materialism, is entirely foreign to my own nature, but I cannot help +being attracted by that wild African spirit, so full of savage +contradictions, so full of energy that it never knew repose: in him you +find all the imperialism of ancient times. When you consider that he +lived in a time when the church was struggling for utterance amid the +horrors of persecution, his mad Christianity becomes singularly +attractive; a passionate fear of beauty for reason of its temptations, a +fear that turned to hatred, and forced him at last into the belief that +Christ was an ugly man."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of the monks of the eighth century and their poetry, but +I do know something of Tertullian, and you mean to tell me that you +admire his style—those harsh chopped-up phrases and strained +antitheses."</p> + +<p>"I should think I did. Phrases set boldly one against the other; quaint, +curious, and full of colour, the reader supplies with delight the +connecting link, though the passion and the force of the description +lives and reels along. Listen:</p> + +<p>"'Quæ tunc spectaculi latitudo! quid admirer? quid rideam? ubi gaudeam? +ubi exultem, spectans tot ac tantos reges, qui in cœlum recepti +nuntiabantur, cum ipso Jove et ipsis suis testibus in imis tenebris +congemiscentes!—Tunc magis tragœdi audiendi, magis scilicet vocales in +sua propria calamitate; tunc histriones cognoscendi, solutiores multo +per ignem; tunc spectandus auriga, in flammea rota totus rubens, &c.c.'</p> + +<p>"Show me a passage in Livy equal to that for sheer force and glittering +colour. The phrases are not all dove-tailed one into the other and +smoothed away; they stand out."</p> + +<p>"Indeed they do. And whom do you speak of next?"</p> + +<p>"I pass on to St Cyprian and Lactantius; to the latter I attribute the +beautiful poem of the Phœnix."</p> + +<p>"What! Claudian's poem?"</p> + +<p>"No, but one infinitely superior. After Lactantius comes St Ambrose, St +Jerome, and St Augustine. The second does not interest me, and my notice +of him is brief; but I make special studies of the first and last. It +was St Ambrose who introduced singing into the Catholic service. He took +the idea from the Arians. He saw the effect it had upon the vulgar mind, +and he resolved to combat the heresy with its own weapons. He composed a +vast number of hymns. Only four have come down to us, and they are as +perfect in form as in matter. You will scarcely find anywhere a false +quantity or a hiatus. The Ambrosian hymns remained the type of all the +hymnic poetry of succeeding centuries. Even Prudentius, great poet as he +was, was manifestly influenced in the choice of metre and the +composition of the strophe by the Deus Creator omnium....</p> + +<p>"St Ambrose did more than any other writer of his time to establish +certain latent tendencies as characteristics of the Catholic spirit. +His pleading in favour of ascetic life and of virginity, that entirely +Christian virtue, was very influential. He lauds the virgin above the +wife, and, indeed, he goes so far as to tell parents that they can +obtain pardon of their sins by offering their daughters to God. His +teaching in this respect was productive of very serious rebellion +against what some are pleased to term the laws of Nature. But St Ambrose +did not hesitate to uphold the repugnance of girls to marriage as not +only lawful but praiseworthy."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you let your thoughts dwell very much on such subjects."</p> + +<p>"Really, do you think I do?" John's eyes brightened for a moment, and he +lapsed into what seemed an examination of conscience. Then he said, +somewhat abruptly, "St Jerome I speak of, or rather I allude to him, and +pass on at once to the study of St Augustine—the great prose writer, as +Prudentius was the great poet, of the Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>"Now, talking of style, I will admit that the eternal apostrophising of +God and the incessant quoting from the New Testament is tiresome to the +last degree, and seriously prejudices the value of the 'Confessions' as +considered from the artistic standpoint. But when he bemoans the loss of +the friend of his youth, when he tells of his resolution to embrace an +ascetic life, he is nervously animated, and is as psychologically +dramatic as Balzac."</p> + +<p>"I have taken great pains with my study of St Augustine, because in him +the special genius of Christianity for the first time found a voice. All +that had gone before was a scanty flowerage—he was the perfect fruit. I +am speaking from a purely artistic standpoint: all that could be done +for the life of the senses had been done, but heretofore the life of the +soul had been lived in silence—none had come to speak of its suffering, +its uses, its tribulation. In the time of Horace it was enough to sit in +Lalage's bower and weave roses; of the communion of souls none had ever +thought. Let us speak of the soul! This is the great dividing line +between the pagan and Christian world, and St Augustine is the great +landmark. In literature he discovered that man had a soul, and that man +had grown interested in its story, had grown tired of the exquisite +externality of the nymph-haunted forest and the waves where the Triton +blows his plaintive blast.</p> + +<p>"The whole theory and practice of modern literature is found in the +'Confessions of St Augustine;' and from hence flows the great current of +psychological analysis which, with the development of the modern novel, +grows daily greater in volume and more penetrating in essence.... Is not +the fretful desire of the Balzac novel to tell of the soul's anguish an +obvious development of the 'Confessions'?"</p> + +<p>"In like manner I trace the origin of the ballad, most particularly the +English ballad, to Prudentius, a contemporary of Claudian."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you trace back our north-country ballads +to, what do you call him?"</p> + +<p>"Prudentius. I show that there is much in his hymns that recalls the +English ballads."</p> + +<p>"In his hymns?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; in the poems that come under such denomination. I confess it is +not a little puzzling to find a narrative poem of some five hundred +lines or more included under the heading of hymns; it would seem that +nearly all lyric poetry of an essentially Christian character was so +designated, to separate it from secular or pagan poetry. In Prudentius' +first published work, 'Liber Cathemerinon,' we find hymns composed +absolutely after the manner of St Ambrose, in the same or in similar +metres, but with this difference, the hymns of Prudentius are three, +four, and sometimes seven times longer than those of St Ambrose. The +Spanish poet did not consider, or he lost sight of, the practical usages +of poetry. He sang more from an artistic than a religious impulse. That +he delighted in the song for the song's own sake is manifest; and this +is shown in the variety of his treatment, and the delicate sense of +music which determined his choice of metre. His descriptive writing is +full of picturesque expression. The fifth hymn, 'Ad Incensum Lucernæ,' +is glorious with passionate colour and felicitous cadence, be he +describing with precious solicitude for Christian archæology the +different means of artistic lighting, flambeaux, candles, lamps, or +dreaming with all the rapture of a southern dream of the balmy garden of +Paradise.</p> + +<p>"But his best book to my thinking is by far, 'Peristephanon,' that is to +say, the hymns celebrating the glory of the martyrs.</p> + +<p>"I was saying just now that the hymns of Prudentius, by the dramatic +rapidity of the narrative, by the composition of the strophe, and by +their wit, remind me very forcibly of our English ballads. Let us take +the story of St Laurence, written in iambics, in verses of four lines +each. In the time of the persecutions of Valerian, the Roman prefect, +devoured by greed, summoned St Laurence, the treasurer of the church, +before him, and on the plea that parents were making away with their +fortunes to the detriment of their children, demanded that the sacred +vessels should be given up to him. 'Upon all coins is found the head of +the Emperor and not that of Christ, therefore obey the order of the +latter, and give to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor.'</p> + +<p>"To this speech, peppered with irony and sarcasm, St Laurence replies +that the church is very rich, even richer than the Emperor, and that he +will have much pleasure in offering its wealth to the prefect, and he +asks for three days to classify the treasures. Transported with joy, the +prefect grants the required delay. Laurence collects the infirm who have +been receiving charity from the church; and in picturesque grouping the +poet shows us the blind, the paralytic, the lame, the lepers, advancing +with trembling and hesitating steps. Those are the treasures, the +golden vases and so forth, that the saint has catalogued and is going to +exhibit to the prefect, who is waiting in the sanctuary. The prefect is +dumb with rage; the saint observes that gold is found in dross; that the +disease of the body is to be less feared than that of the soul; and he +developes this idea with a good deal of wit. The boasters suffer from +dropsy, the miser from cramp in the wrist, the ambitious from febrile +heat, the gossipers, who delight in tale-bearing, from the itch; but +you, he says, addressing the prefect, you who govern Rome,<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> suffer +from the <i>morbus regius</i> (you see the pun). In revenge for thus +slighting his dignity, the prefect condemns St Laurence to be roasted on +a slow fire, adding, 'and deny there, if you will, the existence of my +Vulcan.' Even on the gridiron Laurence does not lose his good humour, +and he gets himself turned as a cook would a chop.</p> + +<p>"Now, do you not understand what I mean when I say that the hymns of +Prudentius are an anticipation of the form of the English ballad?... And +in the fifth hymn the story of St Vincent is given with that peculiar +dramatic terseness that you find nowhere except in the English ballad. +But the most beautiful poem of all is certainly the fourteenth and last +hymn. In a hundred and thirty-three hendecasyllabic verses the story of +a young virgin condemned to a house of ill-fame is sung with exquisite +sense of grace and melody. She is exposed naked at the corner of a +street. The crowd piously turns away; only one young man looks upon her +with lust in his heart. He is instantly struck blind by lightning, but +at the request of the virgin his sight is restored to him. Then follows +the account of how she suffered martyrdom by the sword—a martyrdom +which the girl salutes with a transport of joy. The poet describes her +ascending to Heaven, and casting one last look upon this miserable +earth, whose miseries seem without end, and whose joys are of such short +duration.</p> + +<p>"Then his great poem 'Psychomachia' is the first example in mediæval +literature of allegorical poetry, the most Christian of all forms of +art.</p> + +<p>"Faith, her shoulders bare, her hair free, advances, eager for the +fight. The 'cult of the ancient gods,' with forehead chapleted after the +fashion of the pagan priests, dares to attack her, and is overthrown. +The legion of martyrs that Faith has called together cry in triumphant +unison.... Modesty (Pudicitia), a young virgin with brilliant arms, is +attacked by 'the most horrible of the Furies' (Sodomita Libido), who, +with a torch burning with pitch and sulphur, seeks to strike her eyes, +but Modesty disarms him and pierces him with her sword. 'Since the +Virgin without stain gave birth to the Man-God, Lust is without rights +in the world.' Patience watches the fight; she is presently attacked by +Anger, first with violent words, and then with darts, which fall +harmlessly from her armour. Accompanied by Job, Patience retires +triumphant. But at that moment, mounted on a wild and unbridled steed, +and covered with a lionskin, Pride (Superbia), her hair built up like a +tower, menaces Humility (Mens humilis). Under the banner of Humility are +ranged Justice, Frugality, Modesty, pale of face, and likewise +Simplicity. Pride mocks at this miserable army, and would crush it under +the feet of her steed. But she falls in a ditch dug by Fraud. Humility +hesitates to take advantage of her victory; but Hope draws her sword, +cuts off the head of the enemy, and flies away on golden wings to +Heaven.</p> + +<p>"Then Lust (Luxuria), the new enemy, appears. She comes from the extreme +East, this wild dancer, with odorous hair, provocative glance and +effeminate voice; she stands in a magnificent chariot drawn by four +horses; she scatters violet and rose leaves; they are her weapons; their +insidious perfumes destroy courage and will, and the army, headed by the +virtues, speaks of surrender. But suddenly Sobriety (Sobrietas) lifts +the standard of the Cross towards the sky. Lust falls from her chariot, +and Sobriety fells her with a stone. Then all her saturnalian army is +scattered. Love casts away his quiver. Pomp strips herself of her +garments, and Voluptuousness (Voluptas) fears not to tread upon thorns, +&c.c. But Avarice disguises herself in the mask of Economy, and succeeds +in deceiving all hearts until she is overthrown finally by Mercy +(Operatica). All sorts of things happen, but eventually the poem winds +up with a prayer to Christ, in which we learn that the soul shall fall +again and again in the battle, and that this shall continue until the +coming of Christ."</p> + +<p>"'Tis very curious, very curious indeed. I know nothing of this +literature."</p> + +<p>"Very few do."</p> + +<p>"And you have, I suppose, translated some of these poems?"</p> + +<p>"I give a complete translation of the second hymn, the story of St +Laurence, and I give long extracts from the poem we have been speaking +about, and likewise from 'Hamartigenia,' which, by the way, some +consider as his greatest work. And I show more completely, I think, than +any other commentator, the analogy between it and the 'Divine Comedy,' +and how much Dante owed to it.... Then the 'terza rima' was undoubtedly +borrowed from the fourth hymn of the 'Cathemerinon.'"...</p> + +<p>"You said, I think, that Prudentius was a contemporary of Claudian. +Which do you think the greater poet?"</p> + +<p>"Prudentius by far. Claudian's Latin was no doubt purer and his verse +was better, that is to say, from the classical standpoint it was more +correct."</p> + +<p>"Is there any other standpoint?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. There is pagan Latin and Christian Latin: Burns' poems are +beautiful, and they are not written in Southern English; Chaucer's verse +is exquisitely melodious, although it will not scan to modern +pronunciation. In the earliest Christian poetry there is a tendency to +write by accent rather than by quantity, but that does not say that the +hymns have not a quaint Gothic music of their own. This is very +noticeable in Sedulius, a poet of the fifth century. His hymn to Christ +is not only full of assonance, but of all kinds of rhyme and even double +rhymes. We find the same thing in Sedonius, and likewise in +Fortunatus—a gay prelate, the morality of whose life is, I am afraid, +open to doubt...</p> + +<p>"He had all the qualities of a great poet, but he wasted his genius +writing love verses to Radegonde. The story is a curious one. Radegonde +was the daughter of the King of Thuringia; she was made prisoner by +Clotaire I., son of Clovis, who forced her to become his wife. On the +murder of her father by her husband, she fled and founded a convent at +Poictiers. There she met Fortunatus, who, it appears, loved her. It is +of course humanly possible that their love was not a guilty one, but it +is certain that the poet wasted the greater part of his life writing +verses to her and her adopted daughter Agnes. In a beautiful poem in +praise of virginity, composed in honour of Agnes, he speaks in a very +disgusting way of the love with which nuns regard our Redeemer, and the +recompence that awaits them in Heaven for their chastity. If it had not +been for the great interest attaching to his verse as an example of the +radical alteration that had been effected in the language, I do not +think I should have spoken of this poet. Up to his time rhyme had +slipped only occasionally into the verse, it had been noticed and had +been allowed to remain by poets too idle to remove it, a strange +something not quite understood, and yet not a wholly unwelcome intruder; +but in St Fortunatus we find for the first time rhyme cognate with the +metre, and used with certainty and brilliancy. In the opening lines of +the hymn, 'Vexilla Regis,' rhyme is used with superb effect....</p> + +<p>"But for signs of the approaching dissolution of the language, of its +absorption by the national idiom, we must turn to St Gregory of Tours. +He was a man of defective education, and the <i>lingua rustica</i> of France +as it was spoken by the people makes itself felt throughout his +writings. His use of <i>iscere</i> for <i>escere</i>, of the accusative for the +ablative, one of St Gregory's favourite forms of speech, <i>pro or quod</i> +for <i>quoniam</i>, conformable to old French <i>porceque</i>, so common for +<i>parceque</i>. And while national idiom was oozing through grammatical +construction, national forms of verse were replacing the classical +metres which, so far as syllables were concerned, had hitherto been +adhered to. As we advance into the sixth and seventh centuries, we find +English monks attempting to reproduce the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon +alliterative verse in Latin; and at the Court of Charlemagne we find an +Irish monk writing Latin verse in a long trochaic line, which is native +in Irish poetry.</p> + +<p>"Poets were plentiful at the court of Charlemagne. Now, Angilbert was a +poet of exquisite grace, and surprisingly modern is his music, which is +indeed a wonderful anticipation of the lilt of Edgar Poe. I compare it +to Poe. Just listen:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Surge meo Domno dulces fac, fistula versus:</p> +<p>David amat versus, surge et fac fistula versus.</p> +<p>David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David</p> +<p>Qua propter vates cuncti concurrite in unum</p> +<p>Atque meo David dulces cantate camœnas.</p> +<p>David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.</p> +<p>Dulcis amor David inspirat corda canentum,</p> +<p>Cordibus in nostris faciat amor ipsius odas:</p> +<p>Vates Homerus amat David, fac, fistula, versus.</p> +<p>David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.'"</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"I should have flogged that monk—'ipsius,' oh, oh!—'vatorum.'... It +really is too terrible."</p> + +<p>John laughed, and was about to reply, when the clanging of the college +bell was heard.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that is dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"Afraid, I am delighted; you don't suppose that every one can live, +chameleon-like, on air, or worse still, on false quantities. Ha, ha, ha! +And those pictures too. That snow is more violet than white."</p> + +<p>When dinner was over, John and Mr Hare walked out on the terrace. The +carriage waited in the wet in front of the great oak portal; the grey, +stormy evening descended on the high roofs, smearing the red out of the +walls and buttresses, and melancholy and tall the red college seemed +amid its dwarf plantation, now filled with night wind and drifting +leaves. Shadow and mist had floated out of the shallows above the crests +of the valley, and the lamps of the farm-houses gleamed into a pale +existence.</p> + +<p>"And now tell me what I am to say to your mother. Will you come home for +Christmas?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must. I suppose it would seem so unkind if I didn't. I +cannot account even to myself for my dislike to the place. I cannot +think of it without a revulsion of feeling that is strangely personal."</p> + +<p>"I won't argue that point with you, but I think you ought to come home."</p> + +<p>"Why? Why ought I to come to Sussex, and marry my neighbour's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"There is no reason that you should marry your neighbour's daughter, +but I take it that you do not propose to pass your life here."</p> + +<p>"For the present I am concerned mainly with the problem of how I may +make advances, how I may meet life, as it were, half-way; for if +possible I would not quite lose touch of the world. I would love to live +in its shadow, a spectator whose duty it is to watch and encourage, and +pity the hurrying throng on the stage. The church would approve this +attitude, whereas hate and loathing of humanity are not to be justified. +But I can do nothing to hurry the state of feeling I desire, except of +course to pray. I have passed through some terrible moments of despair +and gloom, but these are now wearing themselves away, and I am feeling +more at rest."</p> + +<p>Then, as if from a sudden fear of ridicule, John said, laughing: +"Besides, looking at the question from a purely practical side, it must +be hardly wise for me to return to society for the present. I like +neither fox-hunting, marriage, Robert Louis Stevenson's stories, nor Sir +Frederick Leighton's pictures; I prefer monkish Latin to Virgil, and I +adore Degas, Monet, Manet, and Renoir, and since this is so, and alas, I +am afraid irrevocably so, do you not think that I should do well to keep +outside a world in which I should be the only wrong and vicious being? +Why spoil that charming thing called society by my unlovely presence?</p> + +<p>"Selfishness! I know what you are going to say—here is my answer. I +assure you I administer to the best of my ability the fortune God gave +me—I spare myself no trouble. I know the financial position of every +farmer on my estate, the property does not owe fifty pounds;—I keep the +tenants up to the mark; I do not approve of waste and idleness, but when +a little help is wanted I am ready to give it. And then, well, I don't +mind telling you, but it must not go any further. I have made a will +leaving something to all my tenants; I give away a fixed amount in +charity yearly."</p> + +<p>"I know, my dear John, I know your life is not a dissolute one; but your +mother is very anxious, remember you are the last. Is there no chance +of your ever marrying?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could live with a woman; there is something very +degrading, something very gross in such relations. There is a better and +a purer life to lead ... an inner life, coloured and permeated with +feelings and tones that are, oh, how intensely our own, and he who may +have this life, shrinks from any adventitious presence that might jar or +destroy it. To keep oneself unspotted, to feel conscious of no sense of +stain, to know, yes, to hear the heart repeat that this self—hands, +face, mouth and skin—is free from all befouling touch, is all one's +own. I have always been strongly attracted to the colour white, and I +can so well and so acutely understand the legend that tells that the +ermine dies of gentle loathing of its own self, should a stain come upon +its immaculate fur.... I should not say a legend, for that implies that +the story is untrue, and it is not untrue—so beautiful a thought could +not be untrue."</p> + +<p>FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a> Qui Romam regis. + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_III"></a><h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<br> + +<p>"Urns on corner walls, pilasters, circular windows, flowerage and +loggia. What horrible taste, and quite out of keeping with the +landscape!" He rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Master John!" cried the tottering old butler who had +known him since babyhood. "Very glad, indeed, we all are to see you home +again, sir!"</p> + +<p>Neither the appellation of Master John, nor the sight of the four +paintings, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, which decorated the walls +of the passage, found favour with John, and the effusiveness of Mrs +Norton, who rushed out of the drawing-room, followed by Kitty, and +embraced her son, at once set on edge all his curious antipathies. Why +this kissing, this approachment of flesh? Of course she was his +mother.... Then this smiling girl in the background! He would have to +amuse her and talk to her; what infinite boredom it would be! He trusted +fervently that her visit would not be a long one.</p> + +<p>Then through what seemed to him the pollution of triumph, he was led +into the library; and he noticed, notwithstanding the presiding busts of +Shakespeare and Milton, that there was but one wretched stand full of +books in the room, and that in the gloom of a far corner. His mother sat +down, and there was a resoluteness in her look and attitude that seemed +to proclaim, "Now I hold you captive;" but she said:</p> + +<p>"I was very much alarmed, my dear John, about your not sleeping. Mr Hare +told me you said that you went two and three nights without closing your +eyes, and that you had to have recourse to sleeping draughts."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, mother, I never took a sleeping draught but twice in my +life."</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't sleep well, and I am sure it is those college beds. +But you will be far more comfortable here. You are in the best bedroom +in the house, the one in front of the staircase, the bridal chamber; and +I have selected the largest and softest feather-bed in the house."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, if there is one thing more than another I dislike, it +is a feather-bed. I should not be able to close my eyes; I beg of you to +have it taken away."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton's face flushed. "I cannot understand, John; it is absurd to +say that you cannot sleep on a feather-bed. Mr Hare told me you +complained of insomnia, and there is no surer way of losing your health. +It is owing to the hardness of those college mattresses, whereas in a +feather-bed—"</p> + +<p>"There is no use in our arguing that point, mother, I say I cannot sleep +on a feather-bed...."</p> + +<p>"But you have not tried one; I don't believe you ever slept on a +feather-bed in your life."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am not going to begin now."</p> + +<p>"We haven't another bed aired in the house, and it is really too late +to ask the servants to change your room."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I shall be obliged to sleep at the hotel in Henfield."</p> + +<p>"You should not speak to your mother in that way; I will not have it."</p> + +<p>"There! you see we are quarrelling already; I did wrong to come home."</p> + +<p>"I am speaking to you for your own good, my dear John, and I think it is +very stubborn of you to refuse to sleep on a feather-bed; if you don't +like it, you can change it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The conversation fell, and in silence the speakers strove to master +their irritation. Then John, for politeness' sake, spoke of when he had +last seen Kitty. It was about five years ago. She had ridden her pony +over to see them.</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton talked of some people who had left the county, of a marriage, +of an engagement, of a mooted engagement; and she jerked in a +suggestion that if John were to apply at once, he would be placed on +the list of deputy-lieutenants. Enumeration of the family +influence—Lord So-and-so, the cousin, was the Lord Lieutenant's most +intimate friend.</p> + +<p>"You are not even a J.P., but there will be no difficulty about that; +and you have not seen any of the county people for years. We will have +the carriage out some day this week, and we'll pay a round of visits."</p> + +<p>"We'll do nothing of the kind. I have no time for visiting; I must get +on with my book. I hope to finish my study of St Augustine before I +leave here. I have my books to unpack, and a great deal of reading to +get through. I have done no more than glance at the Anglo-Latin. +Literature died in France with Gregory of Tours at the end of the sixth +century; with St Gregory the Great, in Italy, at the commencement of the +seventh century; in Spain about the same time. And then the Anglo-Saxons +became the representatives of the universal literature. All this is +most important. I must re-read St Aldhelm and the Venerable Bede.... +Now, I ask, do you expect me—me, with my head full of Aldhelm's +alliterative verses—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Turbo terram teretibus</p> +<p>Quæ catervatim cœlitus</p> +<p>Neque cœlorum culmina</p> +<p>......</p> +<p>......</p> +<p>Grassabatur turbinibus</p> +<p>Crebrantur nigris nubibus</p> +<p>Carent nocturna nebula—'</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"a letter descriptive of a great storm which he was caught in as he was +returning home one night...."</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, we have had quite enough of that, and I would advise you not +to go on with any of that nonsense here; you will be turned into +dreadful ridicule."</p> + +<p>"That's just why I wish to avoid them ... but you have no pity for me. +Just fancy my having to listen to them! How I have suffered.... What is +the use of growing wheat when we are only getting eight pounds ten a +load?... But we must grow something, and there is nothing else but +wheat. We must procure a certain amount of straw, or we'd have no +manure, and you can't work a farm without manure. I don't believe in the +fish manure. But there is market gardening, and if we kept shops in +Brighton, we could grow our own stuff and sell it at retail price.... +And then there is a great deal to be done with flowers."</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, that will do, that will do.... How dare you speak to me so! I +will not allow it." And then relapsing into an angry silence, Mrs Norton +drew her shawl about her shoulders.</p> + +<p>One of a thousand quarrels. The basis of each nature was common +sense—shrewd common sense—but such similarity of structure is in +itself apt to lead to much violent shocking of opinion; and to this end +an adjuvant was found in the dose of fantasy, mysticism, idealism which +was inherent in John's character. "Why is he not like other people? Why +will he waste his time with a lot of rubbishy Latin authors? Why will he +not take up his position in the county?" Mrs Norton asked herself these +questions as she fumed on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why she will continue to try to impose her will upon mine. I +wonder why she has not found out by this time the uselessness of her +effort. But no; she still keeps on hoping at last to wear me down. She +wants me to live the life she has marked out for me to live—to take up +my position in the county, and, above all, to marry and give an heir to +the property. I see it all; that is why she wanted me to spend Christmas +with her; that is why she has Kitty Hare here to meet me. How cunning, +how mean women are: a man would not do that. Had I known it.... I have a +mind to leave to-morrow. I wonder if the girl is in the little +conspiracy." And turning his head he looked at her.</p> + +<p>Tall and slight, a grey dress, pale as the wet sky, fell from her waist +outward in the manner of a child's frock, and there was a lightness, +there was brightness in the clear eyes. The intense youth of her heart +was evanescent; it seemed constantly rising upwards like the breath of a +spring morning—a morning when the birds are trilling. The face +sharpened to a tiny chin, and the face was pale, although there was +bloom on the cheeks. The forehead was shadowed by a sparkling cloud of +brown hair, the nose was straight, and each little nostril was pink +tinted. The ears were like shells. There was a rigidity in her attitude. +She laughed abruptly, perhaps a little nervously, and the abrupt laugh +revealed the line of tiny white teeth. Thin arms fell straight to the +translucent hands, and there was a recollection of puritan England in +look and in gesture.</p> + +<p>Her picturesqueness calmed John's ebullient discontent; he decided that +she knew nothing of, and was not an accomplice in, his mother's scheme: +For the sake of his guest he strove to make himself agreeable during +dinner, but it was clear that he missed the hierarchy of the college +table. The conversation fell repeatedly. Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke of +making syrup for the bees; and their discussion of the illness of poor +Dr ——, who would no longer be able to get through the work of the +parish single-handed, and would require a curate, was continued till the +ladies rose from table. Nor did matters mend in the library. John's +thoughts went back to his book; the room seemed to him intolerably +uncomfortable and ugly. He went to the billiard-room to smoke a cigar. +It was not clear to him if he would be able to spend two months in this +odious place. He might offer them to God as penance for his sins; if +every evening passed like the present, it were a modern martyrdom. But +had they removed that horrid feather-bed? He went upstairs. The +feather-bed had been removed.</p> + +<p>The room was large and ample, and it was draped with many curtains—pale +curtains covered with walking birds and falling petals, a sort of Indian +pattern. There was a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the toilette-table +hung out its skirts in the wavering light of the fire. John tossed to +and fro staring at the birds and petals. He thought of his ascetic +college bed, of the great Christ upon the wall, of the prie-dieu with +the great rosary hanging, but in vain; he could not rid his mind of the +distasteful feminine influences which had filled the day, and which now +haunted the night.</p> + +<p>After breakfast next morning Mrs Norton stopped John as he was going +upstairs to unpack his books. "Now," she said, "you must go out for a +walk with Kitty Hare, and I hope you will make yourself agreeable. I +want you to see the new greenhouse I have put up; she'll show it to you. +And I told the bailiff to meet you in the yard. I thought you might like +to see him."</p> + +<p>"I wish, mother, you would not interfere in my business; had I wanted to +see Burnes I should have sent for him."</p> + +<p>"If you don't want to see him, he wants to see you. There are some +cottages on the farm that must be put into repair at once. As for +interfering in your business, I don't know how you can talk like that; +were it not for me the whole place would be falling to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Quite true; I know you save me a great deal of expense; but really ..."</p> + +<p>"Really what? You won't go out to walk with Kitty Hare?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say I wouldn't, but I must say that I am very busy just now. +I had thought of doing a little reading, for I have an appointment with +my solicitor in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"That man charges you £200 a-year for collecting the rents; now, if you +were to do it yourself, you would save the money, and it would give you +something to do."</p> + +<p>"Something to do! I have too much to do as it is.... But if I am going +out with Kitty.... Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"I saw her go into the library a moment ago."</p> + +<p>And as it was preferable to go for a walk with Kitty than to continue +the interview with his mother, John seized his hat and called Kitty, +Kitty, Kitty! Presently she appeared, and they walked towards the +garden, talking. She told him she had been at Thornby Place the whole +time the greenhouse was being built, and when they opened the door they +were greeted by Sammy. He sprang instantly on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"This is my cat," she said. "I've fed him since he was a little kitten; +isn't he sweet?"</p> + +<p>The girl was beautiful on the brilliant flower background; she stroked +the great caressing creature, and when she put him down he mewed +reproachfully. Further on her two tame rooks cawed joyously, and +alighted on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I wonder they don't fly away, and join the others in the trees."</p> + +<p>"One did go away, and he came back nearly dead with hunger. But he is +all right now, aren't you, dear?" And the bird cawed, and rubbed its +black head against its mistress' cheek. "Poor little things, they fell +out of the nest before they could fly, and I brought them up. But you +don't care for pets, do you, John?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like birds!"</p> + +<p>"Don't like birds! Why, that seems as strange as if you said that you +didn't like flowers."</p> + +<p>"Mrs Norton told me, sir, that you would like to speak to me about them +cottages on the Erringham Farm," said the bailiff.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I must go over and see them to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. +I intend to go thoroughly into everything. How are they getting on with +the cottages that were burnt down?"</p> + +<p>"Rather slow, sir, the weather is so bad."</p> + +<p>"But talking of fire, Burnes, I find that I can insure at a much cheaper +rate at Lloyds' than at most of the offices. I find that I shall make a +saving of £20 a-year."</p> + +<p>"That's worth thinking about, sir."</p> + +<p>While the young squire talked to his bailiff Kitty fed her rooks. They +cawed, and flew to her hand for the scraps of meat. The coachman came +to speak about oats and straw. They went to the stables. Kitty adored +horses, it amused John to see her pat them, and her vivacity and +light-heartedness rather pleased him than otherwise.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, during the whole of the following week the ladies held +little communication with John. He lived apart from them. In the +mornings he went out with his bailiffs to inspect farms and consult +about possible improvement and necessary repairs. He had appointments +with his solicitor. There were accounts to be gone through. He never +paid a bill without verifying every item. It was difficult to say what +should be done with a farm for which a tenant could not be found even at +a reduced rent. At four o'clock he came into tea, his head full of +calculations of such a complex character that even his mother could not +follow the different statements to his satisfaction. When she disagreed +with him, he took up the "Epistles of St Columban of Bangor," the +"Epistola ad Sethum," or the celebrated poem, "Epistola ad Fedolium," +written when the saint was seventy-two, and continued his reading, +making copious notes in a pocket-book. To do so he drew his chair close +to the library fire, and when Kitty came quickly into the room with a +flutter of skirts and a sound of laughter, he awoke from contemplation, +and her singing as she ascended the stairs jarred the dreams of cloister +and choir which mounted from the pages to his brain in clear and +intoxicating rhapsody.</p> + +<p>On the third of November Mrs Norton announced that the meet of the +hounds had been fixed for the fifteenth, and that there would be a hunt +breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear mother! you don't mean that they are coming here to lunch!"</p> + +<p>"For the last twenty years all our side of the county has been in the +habit of coming here to lunch, but of course you can shut your doors to +all your friends and acquaintances. No doubt they will think you have +come down here on purpose to insult them."</p> + +<p>"Insult them! why should I insult them? I haven't seen them since I was +a boy. I remember that the hunt breakfast used to go on all day long. +Every woman in the county used to come, and they used to stay to tea, +and you used to insist on a great number remaining to supper."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can put a stop to all that now that you have consented to +come to Thornby Place, only I hope you don't expect me to remain here to +see my friends insulted."</p> + +<p>"But just think of the expense! and in these bad times. You know I +cannot find a tenant for the Woreington farm. I am afraid I shall have +to provide the capital and farm it myself. Now, in the face of such +losses, don't you think that we should retrench?"</p> + +<p>"Retrench! A few fowls and rounds of beef! You don't think of +retrenching when you present Stanton College with a stained glass window +that costs five hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you like it, mother..."</p> + +<p>"I like nothing but what you like, but I really think that for you to +put down the hunt breakfast the first time you honour us with a visit, +would look very much as if you intended to insult the whole county."</p> + +<p>"It will be a day of misery for me!" replied John, laughing; "but I +daresay I shall live through it."</p> + +<p>"I think you will like it very much," said Kitty. "There will be a lot +of pretty girls here: the Misses Green are coming from Worthing; the +eldest is such a pretty girl, you are sure to admire her. And the hounds +and horses look so beautiful."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke daily of invitations, and later on of cooking +and the various things that were wanted. John continued to go through +his accounts in the morning, and to read monkish Latin in the evening; +but he was secretly nervous, and he dreaded the approaching day.</p> + +<p>He was called an hour earlier—eight o'clock; he drank a cup of cold tea +and ate a piece of dry toast in a back room. The dining-room was full +of servants, who laid out a long table rich with comestibles and +glittering with glass. Mrs Norton and Kitty were upstairs dressing.</p> + +<p>He wandered into the drawing-room and viewed the dead, cumbrous +furniture; the two cabinets bright with brass and veneer. He stood at +the window staring. It was raining. The yellow of the falling leaves was +hidden in the grey mist. It ceased to rain. "This weather will keep many +away; so much the better; there will be too many as it is. I wonder who +this can be." A melancholy brougham passed up the drive. There were +three old maids, all looking sweetly alike; one was a cripple who walked +with crutches, and her smile was the best and the gayest imaginable +smile.</p> + +<p>"How little material welfare has to do with our happiness," thought +John. "There is one whose path is the narrowest, and she is happier and +better than I." And then the three sweet old maids talked with their +cousin of the weather; and they all wondered—a sweet feminine +wonderment—if he would see a girl that day whom he would marry.</p> + +<p>Presently the house was full of people. The passage was full of girls; a +few men sat at breakfast at the end of the long table. Some red coats +passed across the green glare of the park, and the hounds trotted about +a single horseman. Voices. "Oh! how sweet they look! oh, the dear dogs!" +The huntsman stopped in front of the house, the hounds sniffed here and +there, the whips trotted their horses and drove them back. "Get +together, get together; get back there; Woodland, Beauty, come up here." +The hounds rolled on the grass, and leaned their fore-paws on the +railings, willing to be caressed.</p> + +<p>"How sweet they are, look at their soft eyes," cried an old lady whose +deity was a pug, and whose back garden reeked of the tropics. "Look how +good and kind they are; they would not hurt anything; it is only wicked +men who teach them to be ..." The old lady hesitated before the word +"bad," and murmured something about killing.</p> + +<p>There was a lady with melting eyes, many children, and a long sealskin, +and she availed herself of the excuse of seeing the hounds to rejoin a +young man in whom she was interested. There was an old sportsman of +seventy winters, as hale and as hearty as an oak, standing on the +door-step, and he made John promise to come over and see him. The girls +strolled about in groups. As usual young men were lacking. Looking at +his watch, the huntsman pressed the sides of his horse, and rode to draw +the covers at the end of the park. The ladies followed to see the start, +although the mud was inches deep under foot. "Hu in, hu in," cried the +huntsman. The whips trotted round cracking their long whips. Not a sound +was heard. Suddenly there was a whimper, "Hark to Woodland," cried the +huntsman. The hounds rallied to the point, but nothing came of it. +Apparently the old bitch was at fault. The huntsman muttered something +inaudible. But some few hundred yards further on, in an outlying clump +where no one would expect to find, a fox broke clean away.</p> + +<p>The country is as flat as a smooth sea. Chanctonbury Ring stands up like +a mighty cliff on a northern shore; its crown of trees is grim. The +abrupt ascents of Toddington Mount bear away to the left, and tide-like +the fields flow up into the great gulf between.</p> + +<p>"He's making for the furze, but he'll never reach them; he got no start, +and the ground is heavy."</p> + +<p>Then the watchers saw the horsemen making their way up the chalky roads +cut in the precipitous side of the downs. Rain began to fall, umbrellas +were put up, and all hurried home to lunch.</p> + +<p>"Now John, try and make yourself agreeable, go over and talk to some of +the young ladies. Why do you dress yourself in that way? Have you no +other coat? You look like a young priest. Look at that young man over +there! how nicely dressed he is! I wish you would let your moustache +grow; it would improve you immensely." With these and similar remarks +whispered to him, Mrs Norton continued to exasperate her son until the +servants announced that lunch was ready. "Take in Mrs So-and-so," she +said to John, who would fain have escaped from the melting glances of +the lady in the long sealskin. He offered her his arm with an air of +resignation, and set to work valiantly to carve a huge turkey.</p> + +<p>As soon as the servants had cleared away after one set another came, and +although the meet was a small one, John took six ladies in to lunch. +About half-past three the men adjourned to the billiard-room to smoke. +The girls, mighty in numbers, followed, and, with their arms round each +other's waists, and interlacing fingers, they grouped themselves about +the room. Two huntsmen returned dripping wet, and much to his annoyance, +John had to furnish them with a change of clothes. There was tea in the +drawing-room about five o'clock, and soon after the visitors began to +take their leave.</p> + +<p>The wind blew very coldly, the roosting rooks rose out of the branches, +and the carriages rolled into the night; but still a remnant of visitors +stood on the steps talking to John. His cold was worse; he felt very +ill, and now a long sharp pain had grown through his left side, and +momentarily it became more and more difficult to exchange polite words +and smiles. The footmen stood waiting by the open door, the horses +champed their bits, the green of the park was dark, and a group of +kissing girls moved about the loggia, wheels grated on the gravel ... all +were gone! The butler shut the door, and John went to the library fire.</p> + +<p>There his mother found him. She saw that something was seriously the +matter. He was helped up to bed, and the doctor was sent for. A bad +attack of pleurisy. John was rolled up in an enormous mustard +plaster—mustard and cayenne pepper; it bit into the flesh. He roared +with pain; he was slightly delirious; he cursed those around him, using +blasphemous language.</p> + +<p>For more than a week he suffered. He lay bent over, unable to +straighten himself, as if a nerve had been wound up too tightly in the +left side. He was fed on gruel and beef-tea, the room was kept very +warm; it was not until the twelfth day that he was taken out of bed.</p> + +<p>"You have had a narrow escape," the doctor said to John, who, well +wrapped up, lay back, looking very weak and pale, before a blazing fire. +"It was very lucky I was sent for. Twenty-four hours later I would not +have answered for your life."</p> + +<p>"I was delirious, was I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, slightly; you cursed and swore fearfully at us when we rolled you +up in the mustard plaster.... Well, it was very hot, and must have burnt +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was; it has scarcely left a bit of skin on me. But did I use +very bad language? I suppose I could not help it.... I was delirious, +was I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, slightly."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I remember, and if I remember right, I used very bad +language; and people when they are really delirious do not know what +they say. Is not that so, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"If they are really delirious they do not remember, but you were only +slightly delirious ... you were maddened by the pain occasioned by the +pungency of the plaster."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but do you think I knew what I was saying?"</p> + +<p>"You must have known what you were saying, because you remember what you +said."</p> + +<p>"But could I be held accountable for what I said?"</p> + +<p>"Accountable.... Well, I hardly know what you mean. You were certainly +not in the full possession of your senses. Your mother (Mrs Norton) was +very much shocked, but I told her that you were not accountable for what +you said."</p> + +<p>"Then I could not be held accountable, I did not know what I was +saying."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you did exactly; people in a passion don't know what +they say!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes, but we are answerable for sins committed in the heat of +passion: we should restrain our passion; we were wrong in the first +instance in giving way to passion.... But I was ill, it was not exactly +passion. And I was very near death; I had a narrow escape, doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I can call it a narrow escape."</p> + +<p>The voices ceased,—five o'clock,—the curtains were rosy with lamp +light, and conscience awoke in the langours of convalescent hours. "I +stood on the verge of death!" The whisper died away. John was still very +weak, and he had not strength to think with much insistance, but now and +then remembrance surprised him suddenly like pain; it came unexpectedly, +he knew not whence nor how, but he could not choose but listen. Each +interval of thought grew longer; the scabs of forgetfulness were picked +away, the red sore was exposed bleeding and bare. Was he responsible for +those words? He could remember them all now; each like a burning arrow +lacerated his bosom, and he pulled them to and fro. Remembrance in the +watches of the night, dawn fills the dark spaces of a window, +meditations grow more and more lucid. He could now distinguish the +instantaneous sensation of wrong that had flashed on his excited mind in +the moment of his sinning.... Then he could think no more, and in the +twilight of contrition he dreamed vaguely of God's great goodness, of +penance, of ideal atonements. Christ hung on the cross, and far away the +darkness was seared with flames and demons.</p> + +<p>And as strength returned, remembrance of his blasphemies grew stronger +and fiercer, and often as he lay on his pillow, his thoughts passing in +long procession, his soul would leap into intense suffering. "I stood on +the verge of death with blasphemies on my tongue. I might have been +called to confront my Maker with horrible blasphemies in my heart and on +my tongue; but He in His Divine goodness spared me: He gave me time to +repent. Am I answerable, O my God, for those dreadful words that I +uttered against Thee, because I suffered a little pain, against Thee Who +once died on the cross to save me! O God, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy +look down on me, on me! Vouchsafe me Thy mercy, O my God, for I was +weak! My sin is loathsome; I prostrate myself before Thee, I cry aloud +for mercy!"</p> + +<p>Then seeing Christ amid His white million of youths, beautiful singing +saints, gold curls and gold aureoles, lifted throats, and form of harp +and dulcimer, he fell prone in great bitterness on the misery of earthly +life. His happinesses and ambitions appeared to him less than the +scattering of a little sand on the sea-shore. Joy is passion, passion is +suffering; we cannot desire what we possess, therefore desire is +rebellion prolonged indefinitely against the realities of existence; +when we attain the object of our desire, we must perforce neglect it in +favour of something still unknown, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. The winds of folly and desolation howl about us; the sorrows +of happiness are the worst to bear, and the wise soon learn that there +is nothing to dream of but the end of desire.... God is the one ideal, +the Church the one shelter from the misery and meanness of life. Peace +is inherent in lofty arches, rapture in painted panes.... See the mitres +and crosiers, the blood-stained heavenly breasts, the loin-linen hanging +over orbs of light.... Listen! ah! the voices of chanting boys, and out +of the cloud of incense come Latin terminations, and the organ still is +swelling.</p> + +<p>In such religious æstheticisms the soul of John Norton had long +slumbered, but now it awoke in remorse and pain, and, repulsing its +habitual exaltations even as if they were sins, he turned to the primal +idea of the vileness of this life, and its sole utility in enabling man +to gain heaven. Beauty, what was it but temptation? He winced before a +conclusion so repugnant to him, but the terrors of the verge on which +he had so lately stood were still upon him in all their force, and he +crushed his natural feelings....</p> + +<p>The manifestation of modern pessimism in John Norton has been described, +and how its influence was checked by constitutional mysticity has also +been shown. Schopenhauer, when he overstepped the line ruled by the +Church, was instantly rejected. From him John Norton's faith had +suffered nothing; the severest and most violent shocks had come from +another side—a side which none would guess, so complex and +contradictory are the involutions of the human brain. Hellenism, Greek +culture and ideal; academic groves; young disciples, Plato and Socrates, +the august nakedness of the Gods were equal, or almost equal, in his +mind with the lacerated bodies of meagre saints; and his heart wavered +between the temple of simple lines and the cathedral of a thousand +arches. Once there had been a sharp struggle, but Christ, not Apollo, +had been the victor, and the great cross in the bedroom of Stanton +College overshadowed the beautiful slim body in which Divinity seemed to +circulate like blood; and this photograph was all that now remained of +much youthful anguish and much temptation.</p> + +<p>A fact to note is that his sense of reality had always remained in a +rudimentary state; it was, as it were, diffused over the world and +mankind. For instance, his belief in the misery and degradation of +earthly life, and the natural bestiality of man, was incurable; but of +this or that individual he had no opinion; he was to John Norton a blank +sheet of paper, to which he could not affix even a title. His childhood +had been one of bitter tumult and passionate sorrow; the different and +dissident ideals growing up in his heart and striving for the mastery, +had torn and tortured him, and he had long lain as upon a mental rack. +Ignorance of the material laws of existence had extended even into his +sixteenth year, and when, bit by bit, the veil fell, and he understood, +he was filled with loathing of life and mad desire to wash himself free +of its stain; and it was this very hatred of natural flesh that +precipitated a perilous worship of the deified flesh of the God. But +mysticity saved him from plain paganism, and the art of the Gothic +cathedral grew dear to him. It was nearer akin to him, and he assuaged +his wounded soul in the ecstacies of incense and the great charms of +Gregorian chant.</p> + +<p>But fear now for the first time took possession of him, and he +realised—if not in all its truth, at least in part—that his love of +God had only taken the form of a gratification of the senses, a +sensuality higher but as intense as those which he so much reproved. +Fear smouldered in his very entrails, and doubt fumed and went out like +steam—long lines and falling shadows and slowly dispersing clouds. His +life had been but a sin, an abomination, and the fairest places darkened +as the examination of conscience proceeded. His thought whirled in +dreadful night, soul-torturing contradictions came suddenly under his +eyes, like images in a night-mare; and in horror and despair, as a woman +rising from a bed of small-pox drops the mirror after the first glance, +and shrinks from destroying the fair remembrance of her face by pursuing +the traces of the disease through every feature, he hid his face in his +hands and called for forgiveness—for escape from the endless record of +his conscience. With staring eyes and contracted brows he saw the flames +which await him who blasphemes. To the verge of those flames he had +drifted. If God in His infinite mercy had not withheld him?... He +pictured himself lost in fires and furies. Then looking up he saw the +face of Christ, grown pitiless in final time—Christ standing immutable +amid His white million of youths....</p> + +<p>And the worthlessness and the abjectness of earthly life struck him with +awful and all-convincing power, and this vision of the worthlessness of +existence was clearer than any previous vision. He paused. There was but +one conclusion ... it looked down upon him like a star—he would become a +priest. All darkness, all madness, all fear faded, and with sure and +certain breath he breathed happiness; the sense of consecration nestled +in its heart, and its light shone upon his face.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in the past, but there is the sweetness of meditation +in the present, and in the future there is God. Like a fountain flowing +amid a summer of leaves and song, the sweet hours came with quiet and +melodious murmur. In the great arm-chair of his ancestors he sits thin +and tall. Thin and tall. The great flames decorate the darkness, and the +twilight sheds upon the rose curtains, walking birds and falling petals. +But his thoughts are dreaming through long aisle and solemn arch, clouds +of incense and painted panes.... The palms rise in great curls like the +sky; and amid the opulence of gold vestments, the whiteness of the +choir, the Latin terminations and the long abstinences, the holy oil +comes like a kiss that never dies ... and in full glory of symbol and +chant, the very savour of God descends upon him ... and then he awakes, +surprised to find such dreams out of sleep.</p> + +<p>His resolve did not alter; he longed for health because it would bring +the realisation of his desire, and time appeared to him cruelly long. +Nor could he think of the pain he inflicted on his mother, so centred +was he in this thought; he was blind to her sorrowing face, he was deaf +to her entreaty; he could neither feel nor see beyond the immediate +object he had in mind, and he spoke to her in despair of the length of +months that separated him from consecration; he speculated on the +possibility of expediting that happy day by a dispensation from the +Pope. The moment he could obtain permission from the doctor he ordered +his trunks to be packed, and when he bid Mrs Norton and Kitty Hare +good-bye, he exacted a promise from the former to be present at Stanton +College on Palm Sunday. He wished her to be present when he embraced +Holy Orders.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a><h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Every morning Mrs Norton flung her black shawl over her shoulders, +rattled her keys, and scolded the servants at the end of the long +passage. Kitty, as she watered the flowers in the greenhouse, often +wondered why John had chosen to become a priest and grieve his mother. +Three times out of five when the women met at lunch, Mrs Norton said:</p> + +<p>"Kitty, would you like to come out for a drive?"</p> + +<p>Kitty answered, "I don't mind; just as you like, Mrs Norton."</p> + +<p>After tea at five Kitty read for an hour, and in the evening she played +the piano; and she sometimes endeavoured to console her hostess by +suggesting that people did change their minds, and that John might not +become a priest after all. Mrs Norton looked at the girl, and it was +often on her lips to say, "If you had only flirted, if you had only paid +him some attentions, all might have been different." But heart-broken +though she was, Mrs Norton could not speak the words. The girl looked so +candid, so flowerlike in her guilelessness, that the thought seemed a +pollution. And in a few days Mr Hare sent for Kitty; and with her +departed the last ray of sunlight, and Thornby Place grew too sad and +solitary for Mrs Norton.</p> + +<p>She went to visit some friends; she spent Christmas at the Rectory; and +in the long evenings when Kitty had gone to bed, she opened her heart to +her old friend. The last hope was gone; there was nothing for her to +look for now. John did not even write to her; she had not heard from him +since he left. It was very wrong of the Jesuits to encourage him in such +conduct, and she thought of laying the whole matter before the Pope. The +order had once been suppressed; she did not remember by what Pope; but +a Pope had grown tired of their intrigues, and had suppressed the order. +She made these accusations in moments of passion, and immediately after +came deep regret.... How wrong of her to speak ill of her religion, and to a +Protestant! If John did become a priest it would be a punishment for her sins. +But what was she saying? If John became a priest, she should thank God for +His great goodness. What greater honour could he bestow upon her? Next +day she took the train to Brighton, and went to confession; and that +very same evening she pleadingly suggested to Mr Hare that he should go +to Stanton College, and endeavour to persuade John to return home. The +parson was of course obliged to decline. He advised her to leave the +matter in the hands of God, and Mrs Norton went to bed a prey to +scruples of conscience of all kinds.</p> + +<p>She even began to think it wrong to remain any longer in an essentially +Protestant atmosphere. But to return to Thornby Place alone was +impossible, and she begged for Kitty. The parson was loth to part with +his daughter, but he felt there was much suffering beneath the calm +exterior that Mrs Norton preserved. He could refuse her nothing, and he +let Kitty go.</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why you should not come and dine with us every day; +but I shall not let you have her back for the next two months."</p> + +<p>"What day will you come and see us, father dear?" said Kitty, leaning +out of the carriage window.</p> + +<p>"On Thursday," cried the parson.</p> + +<p>"Very well, we shall expect you," replied Mrs Norton; and with a sigh +she sank back on the cushions, and fell to thinking of her son.</p> + +<p>At Thornby Place everything was soon discovered to be in a sad state of +neglect. There was much work to be done in the greenhouse, the azaleas +were being devoured by insects, and the leaves required a thorough +washing. It was easy to see that the cats had not been regularly fed, +and one of the tame rooks had flown away. Remedying these disasters, +Mrs Norton and Kitty hurried to and fro. There was a ball at Steyning, +and Mrs Norton consented to do the chaperon for once; and the girl's +dress was a subject of gossip for a month—for a fortnight an absorbing +occupation. Most of the people who had been at the hunt breakfast were +at the ball, and Kitty had plenty of partners. These suggested husbands +to Mrs Norton, and she questioned Kitty; but she did not seem to have +thought of the ball except in the light of a toy which she had been +allowed to play with one evening. The young men she had met there had +apparently interested her no more than if they had been girls, and she +regretted John only because of Mrs Norton. Every morning she ran to see +if there was a letter, so that it might be she who brought the good +news. But no letter came. Since Christmas John had written two short +notes, and now they were well on in April. But one morning as she stood +watching the springtide, Kitty saw him walking up the drive; the sky +was growing bright with blue, and the beds were catching flower beneath +the evergreen oaks. She ran to Mrs Norton, who was attending to the +canaries in the bow-window.</p> + +<p>"Look, look, Mrs Norton, John is coming up the drive; it is he; look!"</p> + +<p>"John!" said Mrs Norton, seeking for her glasses nervously; "yes, so it +is; let's run and meet him. But no; let's take him rather coolly. I +believe half his eccentricity is only put on because he wishes to +astonish us. We won't ask him any questions; we'll just wait and let him +tell his own story...."</p> + +<p>"How do you do, mother?" said the young man, kissing Mrs Norton with +less reluctance than usual. "You must forgive me for not having answered +your letters. It really was not my fault; I have been passing through a +very terrible state of mind lately.... And how do you do, Kitty? Have +you been keeping my mother company ever since? It is very good in you; +I am afraid you must think me a very undutiful son. But what is the +news?"</p> + +<p>"One of the rooks is gone."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?... What about the ball at Steyning? I hear it was a great +success."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was delightful."</p> + +<p>"You must tell me about it after dinner. Now I must go round to the +stables and tell Walls to take the trap round to the station to fetch my +things."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to be here some time?" said Mrs Norton, assuming an +indifferent air.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so; that is to say, for a couple of months—six weeks. I +have some arrangements to make, but I will speak to you about all that +after dinner."</p> + +<p>With these words John left the room, and he left his mother agitated and +frightened.</p> + +<p>"What can he mean by having arrangements to make?" she asked. Kitty +could of course suggest no explanation, and the women waited the +pleasure of the young man to speak his mind. He seemed, however, in no +hurry to do so; and the manner in which he avoided the subject +aggravated his mother's uneasiness. At last she said, unable to bear the +suspense any longer:</p> + +<p>"Are you going to be a priest, John, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, but not a Jesuit...."</p> + +<p>"And why? have you had a quarrel with the Jesuits?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; never mind; I don't like to talk about it; not exactly a +quarrel, but I have seen a great deal of them lately, and I have found +them out. I don't mean in anything wrong, but the order is so entirely +opposed to the monastic spirit. It is difficult to explain; I really +can't.... What I mean is ... well, that their worldliness is repugnant to +me—fashionable friends, confidences, meddling in family affairs, dining +out, letters from ladies who need consolation.... I don't mean anything +wrong; pray don't misunderstand me. I merely mean to say that I hate +their meddling in family affairs. Their confessional is a kind of +marriage bureau; they have always got some plan on for marrying this +person to that, and I must say I hate all that sort of thing.... If I +were a priest I would disdain to ... but perhaps I am wrong to speak like +that. Yes, it is very wrong of me, and before ... Kitty, you must not +think I am speaking against the principles of my religion, I am only +speaking of matters of—"</p> + +<p>"And have you given up your rooms in Stanton College?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet; that is to say, nothing is settled definitely, but I do not +think I shall go back there; at least not to live."</p> + +<p>"And you still are determined on becoming a priest?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, but not a Jesuit."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"A Carmelite. I have seen a great deal of these monks lately, and it is +only they who preserve some of the old spirit of the old ideal. To enter +the Carmelite Chapel in Kensington is to step out of the mean +atmosphere of to-day into the lofty charm of the Middle Ages. The long +straight folds of habits falling over sandalled feet, the great rosaries +hanging down from the girdles, the smell of burning wax, the large +tonsures, the music of the choir; I know nothing like it. Last Sunday I +heard them sing St Fortunatus' hymn,... the <i>Vexilla regis</i> heard in the +cloud of incense, and the wrath of the organ!... splendid are the rhymes! +the first stanza in U and O, the second in A, and the third in E; +passing over the closed vowels, the hymn ascends the scale of sound—"</p> + +<p>"Now, John, none of that nonsense; how dare you, sir? Don't attempt to +laugh at your mother."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, you must not think I am sneering because I speak of +what is uppermost in my mind. I have determined to become a Carmelite +monk, and that is why I came down here."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton was very angry; her temper fumed, and she would have burst +into violent words had not the last words, "and that is why I came down +here," frightened her into calmness.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she said, turning round in her chair. "You came down +here to become a Carmelite monk; what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>John hesitated. He was clearly a little frightened, but having gone so +far he felt he must proceed. Besides, to-day, or to-morrow, sooner or +later the truth would have to be told. He said:</p> + +<p>"I intend altering the house a little here and there; you know how +repugnant this mock Italian architecture is to my feelings.... I am +coming to live here with some monks—"</p> + +<p>"You must be mad, sir; you mean to say that you intend to pull down the +house of your ancestors and turn it into a monastery?"</p> + +<p>John drew a breath of relief, the worst was over now; she had spoken the +fulness of his thought. Yes, he was going to turn Thornby Place into a +monastery.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "if you like to put it in that way. Yes, I am going to +turn Thornby Place into a monastery. Why shouldn't I? I am resolved +never to marry; and I have no one except those dreadful cousins to leave +the place to. Why shouldn't I turn it into a monastery and become a +monk? I wish to save my soul."</p> + +<p>Mrs Norton groaned.</p> + +<p>"But you make me say more than I mean. To turn the place into a Gothic +monastery, such a monastery as I dreamed would not be possible, unless +indeed I pulled the whole place down, and I have not sufficient money to +do that, and I do not wish to mortgage the property. For the present I +am determined only on a few alterations. I have them all in my head. The +billiard room, that addition of yours, can be turned into a chapel. And +the casements of the dreadful bow-window might be removed, and mullions +and tracery fixed on, and, instead of the present flat roof, a sloping +tiled roof might be carried up against the wall of the house. The +cloisters would come at the back of the chapel."</p> + +<p>John stopped aghast at the sorrow he was causing, and he looked at his +mother. She did not speak. Her ears were full of merciless ruins; hope +vanished in the white dust; and the house with its memories sacred and +sweet fell pitilessly: beams lying this way and that, the piece of +exposed wall with the well-known wall paper, the crashing of slates. How +they fall! John's heart was rent with grief, but he could not stay his +determination any more than his breath. Youth is a season of suffering, +we cannot surrender our desire, and it lies heavy and burning on our +hearts. It is so easy for age, so hard for youth to make sacrifices. +Youth is and must be wholly, madly selfish; it is not until we have +learnt the folly of our aims that we may forget them, that we may pity +the sufferings of others, that we may rejoice in the triumphs of our +friends. To the superficial therefore, John Norton will appear but the +incarnation of egotism and priggishness, but those who see deeper will +have recognised that he is one who has suffered bitterly, as bitterly +as the outcast who lies dead in his rags beneath the light of the +policeman's lantern. Mental and physical wants!—he who may know one may +not know the other: is not the absence of one the reason of the other? +Mental and physical wants! the two planes of suffering whence the great +divisions of mankind view and envy the other's destinies, as we view a +passing pageant, as those who stand on the decks of crossing ships gaze +regretfully back.</p> + +<p>Those who have suffered much physical want will never understand John +Norton; he will find commiseration only from those who have realised <i>à +priori</i> the worthlessness of existence, the vileness of life; above all, +from those who, conscious of a sense of life's degradation, impetuously +desire their ideal—the immeasurable ideal which lies before them, +clear, heavenly, and crystalline; the sea into which they would plunge +their souls, but in whose benedictive waters they may only dip their +fingertips, and crossing themselves, pass up the aisle of human +tribulation. We suffer in proportion to our passions. But John Norton +had no passion, say they who see passion only in carnal dissipation. Yet +the passions of the spirit are more terrible than those of the flesh; +the passion for God, the passion of revolt against the humbleness of +life; and there is no peace until passion of whatever kind has wailed +itself out.</p> + +<p>Foolish are they who describe youth as a time of happiness; it is one of +fever and anguish.</p> + +<p>Beneath its apparent calm, there was never a stormier youth than John's. +The boy's heart that grieves to death for a chorus-girl, the little +clerk who mourns to madness for the bright life that flashes from the +point of sight of his high office stool, never felt more keenly the +nervous pain of desire and the lassitudes of resistance. You think John +Norton did not suffer in his imperious desire to pull down the home of +his fathers and build a monastery! Mrs Norton's grief was his grief, but +to stem the impulse that bore him along was too keen a pain to be +endured. His desire whelmed him like a wave; it filled his soul like a +perfume, and against his will it rose to his lips in words. Even when +the servants were present he could not help discussing the architectural +changes he had determined upon, and as the vision of the cloister, with +its reading and chanting monks, rose to his head, he talked, blinded by +strange enthusiasm, of latticed windows, and sandals.</p> + +<p>His mother bit her thin lips, and her face tightened in an expression of +settled grief. Kitty was sorry for Mrs Norton, but Kitty was too young +to understand, and her sorrow evaporated in laughter. She listened to +John's explanations of the future as to a fairy tale suddenly touched +with the magic of realism. That the old could not exist in conjunction +with the new order of things never grew into the painful precision of +thought in her mind. She saw but the show side; she listened as to an +account of private theatricals, and in spite of Mrs Norton's visible +grief, she was amused when John described himself walking at the head +of his monks with tonsured head and a great rosary hanging from a +leather girdle. Her innocent gaiety attracted her to him. As they walked +about the grounds after breakfast, he spoke to her about pictures and +statues, of a trip he intended to take to Italy and Spain, and he did +not seem to care to be reminded that this jarred with his project for +immediate realisation of Thornby Priory.</p> + +<p>Leaning their backs against the iron railing which divided the green +sward from the park, John and Kitty looked at the house.</p> + +<p>"From this view it really is not so bad, though the urns and the loggia +are so intolerably out of keeping with the landscape. But when I have +made my alterations it will harmonise with the downs and the +flat-flowing country, so English with its barns and cottages and rich +agriculture, and there will be then a charming recollection of old +England, the England of the monastic ages, before the—but I forgot, I +must not speak to you on that subject."</p> + +<p>"Do you think the house will look prettier than it does now? Mrs Norton +says that it will be impossible to alter Italian architecture into +Gothic.... Of course I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Mother does not know what she is talking about. I have it all down in +my pocket-book. I have various plans.... I admit it is not easy, but +last night I fancy I hit on an idea. I shall of course consult an +architect, although really I don't see there is any necessity for so +doing, but just to be on the safe side; for in architecture there are +many practical difficulties, and to be on the safe side I will consult +an experienced man regarding the practical working out of my design. I +made this drawing last night." John produced a large pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"But, oh, how pretty; will it be really like that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," exclaimed John, delighted; "it will be exactly like that; but I +will read you my notes, and then you will understand it better.</p> + +<p>"<i>Alter and add to the front to represent the façade of a small +cathedral. This can be done by building out a projection the entire +width of the building, and one storey in height. This will be divided +into three arched divisions, topped with small gables</i>."</p> + +<p>"What are gables, John?"</p> + +<p>"Those are the gables. <i>The centre one (forming entrance) being rather +higher than the other gables. The entrance would be formed with +clustered columns and richly moulded pointed arches, the door being +solid, heavy oak, with large scroll and hammered iron hinges</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The centre front and back would be carried up to form steep gables, +the roof being heightened to match. The large gable in front to have a +large cross at apex</i>."</p> + +<p>"What is an apex? What words you do use."</p> + +<p>John explained, Kitty laughed.</p> + +<p>"The top I have indicated in the drawing. <i>And to have a rose window</i>. +You see the rose window in the drawing," said John, anticipating the +question which was on Kitty's lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she, "but why don't you say a round window?"</p> + +<p>Without answering John continued:</p> + +<p>"<i>The first floor fronts would be arcaded round with small columns with +carved capitals and pointed arches</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>At either corner of front, in lieu of present Ionic columns, carry up +octagonal turrets with pinnacles at top</i>.</p> + +<p>"You see them in the drawing. These are the octagonal turrets."</p> + +<p>"And which are the pinnacles?"</p> + +<p>"The ornaments at the top.</p> + +<p>"<i>From the centre of the roof carry up a square tower with battlemented +parapets and pinnacles at all corners, and flying buttresses from the +turrets of the main buildings</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The bow window at side will have the old casements removed, and have +mullions and tracery fixed and filled with cathedral glazings, and, +instead of the present flat, a sloping roof will be carried up and +finished against the outer wall of the house. At either side of bay +window buttresses with moulded water-tables, plinths, &c.c.</i></p> + +<p>"<i>From these roofs and the front projections at intersection of small +gables, carved gargoyles to carry off water</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The billiard-room to be converted into a chapel, by building a new +high-pitched roof</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, why should you do away with the billiard-room; why shouldn't +the monks play billiards? You played billiards on the day of the meet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I am not a monk yet. No one ever heard of monks playing +billiards; besides, that dreadful addition of my mother's could not +remain in its present form, it would be ludicrous to a degree, whereas +it can be converted very easily into a chapel. We must have a +chapel—<i>building a high-pitched timber roof, throwing out an apse at +the end, and putting in mullioned and traceried windows filled with +stained glass</i>."</p> + +<p>"And the cloister you are always speaking about, where will that be?"</p> + +<p>"The cloister will come at the back of the chapel, and an arched and +vaulted ambulatory will be laid round the house. Later on I shall add a +refectory, and put a lavatory at one end of the ambulatory."</p> + +<p>"But don't you think, John, you may get tired of being a monk, and then +the house will have to be built back again."</p> + +<p>"Never, the house will be from every point of view, a better house when +my alterations are carried into effect. Beside, why should I be tired of +being a monk? Your father does not get tired of being a parson."</p> + +<p>This reply, although singularly unconvincing, was difficult to answer, +and the conversation fell. And day by day, John's schemes strengthened +and took shape, and he seemed to look upon himself already as a +Carmelite. He had even gone so far as to order a habit, it had arrived a +few days ago; and an architect, too, had come down from London. He was +the ray of hope in Mrs Norton's life. For although he had loudly +commended the artistic taste exhibited in the drawing, and expressed +great wonderment at John's architectural skill, he had, nevertheless, +when questioned as to their practicability, declared the scheme to be +wholly impossible. And the reasons he advanced in support of his +opinions were so conclusive that John was fain to beg of him to draw up +a more possible plan for the conversion of an Italian house into a +Gothic monastery.</p> + +<p>Mr —— seemed to think the idea a wild one, but he promised to see what +could be done to overcome the difficulties he foresaw, and in a week he +forwarded John several drawings for his consideration. Judged by +comparison with John's dreams, the practical architecture of the +experienced man seemed altogether lacking in expression and in poetry +of proportion; and comparing them with his own cherished project, John +hung over the billiard-table, where the drawings were laid out, hour +after hour, only to rise more bitterly fretful, more utterly unable than +usual to reconcile himself to natural limitation, more hopelessly +longing for the unattainable.</p> + +<p>He could think of nothing but his monastery; his Latin authors were +forgotten; he drew façades and turrets on the cloth during dinner, and +he went up to his room, not to bed, but to reconsider the difficulties +that rendered the construction of a central tower an impossibility.</p> + +<p>Midnight: the house seems alive in the silence: night is on the world. +The twilight sheds on the walking birds, on the falling petals, and in +the rich shadow the candle burns brightly. The great bridal bed yawns, +the lace pillows lie wide, the curtains hang dreamily in the hallowed +light. John leans over his drawings. Once again he takes up the +architect's notes.</p> + +<p>"<i>The interior would be so constructed as to make it impossible to +carry up the central tower. The outer walls would not be strong enough +to take the large gables and roof. Although the chapel could be done +easily, the ambulatory would be of no use, as it would lead probably +from the kitchen offices.</i></p> + +<p>"<i>Would have to reduce work on front façade to putting in new arched +entrance. Buttresses would take the place of columns</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The bow-window could remain</i>.</p> + +<p>"<i>The roof to be heightened somewhat. The front projection would throw +the front rooms into almost total darkness</i>."</p> + +<p>"But why not a light timber lantern tower?" thought John. "Yes, that +would get over the difficulty. Now if we could only manage to keep my +front ... if my design for the front cannot be preserved, I might as well +abandon the whole thing! And then?"</p> + +<p>And then life seemed to him void of meaning and light. He might as well +settle down and marry....</p> + +<p>His face contracted in an expression of anger. He rose from the table, +and he looked round the room. Its appearance was singularly jarring, +shattering as it did his dream of the cloister, and up-building in fancy +the horrid fabric of marriage and domesticity. The room seemed to him a +symbol—with the great bed, voluptuous, the corpulent arm-chair, the +toilet-table shapeless with muslin—of the hideous laws of the world and +the flesh, ever at variance and at war, and ever defeating the +indomitable aspirations of the soul. John ordered his room to be +changed; and, in the face of much opposition from his mother, who +declared that he would never be able to sleep there, and would lose his +health, he selected a narrow room at the end of the passage. He would +have no carpet. He placed a small iron bed against the wall; two plain +chairs, a screen to keep off the draught from the door, a basin-stand +such as you might find in a ship's cabin, and a prie-dieu, were all the +furniture he permitted himself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a relief!" he murmured. "Now there is line, there is definite +shape. That formless upholstery frets my eye as false notes grate on my +ear;" and, becoming suddenly conscious of the presence of God, he fell +on his knees and prayed. He prayed that he might be guided aright in his +undertaking, and that, if it were conducive to the greater honour and +glory of God, he might be permitted to found a monastery, and that he +might be given strength to surmount all difficulties.</p> + +<p>Next morning, calm in mind, and happier, he went downstairs to the +drawing-room, a small book in his hand, an historical work of great +importance by the Venerable Bede, intitled <i>Vita beatorum abbatum +Wiremuthensium, et Girvensiuem, Benedicti Ceolfridi, Easteriwini, +Sigfridi atque Hœtberti</i>. But he could not keep his attention fixed on +the book, it appeared to him dreary and stupid. His thoughts wandered. +He thought of Kitty—of how beautiful she looked on the background of +red geraniums, with the soft yellow cat on her shoulder, and he wondered +which of the four great painters, Manet, Degas, Monet, or Renoir would +have best rendered the brightness and lightness, the intense colour +vitality of that motive for a picture. He thought of her young eyes, of +the pale hands, of the sudden, sharp laugh; and finally he took up one +of her novels, "Red as a Rose is She." He read it, and found it very +entertaining.</p> + +<p>But the evening post brought him a letter from the architect's head +clerk, saying that Mr —— was ill, had not been to the office for the +last three or four days, and would not be able to go down to Sussex +again before the end of the month. Very much annoyed, John spent the +evening thinking whom he could consult on the practicability of his last +design for the front, and next, morning he was surprised at not seeing +Kitty at breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Where is Kitty?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"She is not feeling well; she has a headache, and will not be down +to-day."</p> + +<p>At the end of a long silence, John said:</p> + +<p>"I think I will go into Brighton.... I must really see an architect."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, dear, you are not really determined to pull the house down?"</p> + +<p>"There is no use, mother dear, in our discussing that subject; each and +all of us must do the best we can with life. And the best we can do is +to try and gain heaven."</p> + +<p>"Breaking your mother's heart, and making yourself ridiculous before the +whole county, is not the way to gain heaven."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you are going to talk like that...."</p> + +<p>John went into the drawing-room to continue his reading, but the Latin +bored him even more than it had done yesterday. He took up the novel, +but its enchantment was gone, and it appeared to him in its tawdry, +original vulgarity. He got on a horse and rode towards the downs, and +went up the steep ascents at a gallop. He stood amid the gorse at the +top and viewed the great girdle of blue encircling sea, and the long +string of coast towns lying below him, and far away. Lunch was on the +table when he returned. After lunch, harassed by an obsession of +architectural plans, he went out to sketch. But it rained, and resisting +his mother's invitation to change his clothes, he sat down before the +fire, damp without, and feverishly irritable within. He vacillated an +hour between his translation of St Fortunatus' hymn, <i>Quem terra, pontus +æthera</i>, and "Red as a Rose is She," which, although he thought it as +reprehensible for moral as for literary reasons, he was fain to follow +out to the vulgar end. But he could interest himself in neither hymn nor +novel. For the authenticity of the former he now cared not a jot, and he +threw the book aside vowing that its hoydenish heroine was unbearable +and he would read no more.</p> + +<p>"I never knew a more horrible place to live in than Sussex. Either of +two things: I must alter the architecture of this house, or I must +return to Stanton College."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense, do you think I don't know you? you are boring +yourself because Kitty is upstairs in bed, and cannot walk about with +you."</p> + +<p>"I do not know how you contrive, mother, always to say the most +disagreeable possible things; the marvellous way in which you pick out +what will, at the moment, wound me most is truly wonderful. I compliment +you on your skill, but I confess I am at a loss to understand why you +should, as if by right, expect me to remain here to serve continuously +as a target for the arrows of your scorn."</p> + +<p>John walked out of the room. During dinner mother and son spoke very +little, and he retired early, about ten o'clock, to his room. He was in +high dudgeon, but the white walls, the prie-dieu, the straight, narrow +bed were pleasant to see. His room was the first agreeable impression +of the day. He picked up a drawing from the table, it seemed to him +awkward and slovenly. He sharpened his pencil, cleared his crow-quill +pens, got out his tracing-paper, and sat down to execute a better. But +he had not finished his outline sketch before he leaned back in his +chair, and as if overcome by the insidious warmth of the fire, lapsed +into fire-light attitudes and meditations.</p> + +<p>He looked a little backwards into the blaze; he nibbled his pencil +point. Wavering light and wavering shade followed fast over the Roman +profile, followed and flowed fitfully—fitfully as his thoughts. Now his +thought followed out architectural dreams, and now he thought of +himself, of his unhappy youth, of how he had been misunderstood, of his +solitary life; a bitter, unsatisfactory life, and yet a life not wanting +in an ideal—a glorious ideal. He thought how his projects had always +met with failure, with disapproval, above all failure ... and yet, and +yet he felt, he almost knew there was something great and noble in him. +His eyes brightened; he slipped into thinking of schemes for a monastic +life; and then he thought of his mother's hard disposition and how she +misunderstood him,—everyone misunderstood him. What would the end be? +Would he succeed in creating the monastery he dreamed of so fondly? To +reconstruct the ascetic life of the Middle Ages, that would be something +worth doing, that would be a great ideal—that would make meaning in his +life. If he failed ... what should he do then? His life as it was, was +unbearable ... he must come to terms with life....</p> + +<p>That central tower! how could he manage it! and that built-out front. +Was it true, as the architect said, that it would throw all the front +rooms into darkness? Without this front his design would be worthless. +What a difference it made!</p> + +<p>Kitty liked it. She had thought it charming. How young she was, how +glad and how innocent, and how clever, her age being taken into +consideration. She understood all you said. It would not surprise him if +she developed into something: but she would marry....</p> + +<p>But why was he thinking of her? What concern had she in his life? A +little slip of a girl—a girl—a girl more or less pretty, that was all. +And yet it was pleasant to hear her laugh. That low, sudden laugh—she +was pleasanter company than his mother, she was pleasant to have in the +house, she interrupted many an unpleasant scene. Then he remembered what +his mother had said. She had said that he was disappointed that she was +ill, that he had missed her, that ... that it was because she was not +there that he had found the day so intolerably wearisome.</p> + +<p>Struck as with a dagger, the pain of the wound flowed through him +piercingly; and as a horse stops and stands trembling, for there is +something in the darkness beyond, John shrank back, his nerves +vibrating like highly-strung chords; and ideas—notes of regret and +lamentation died in great vague spaces. Ideas fell.... Was this all; was +this all he had struggled for; was he in love? A girl, a girl ... was a +girl to soil the ideal he had in view? No; he smiled painfully. The sea +of his thoughts grew calmer, the air grew dim and wan, a tall foundered +wreck rose pale and spectral, memories drifted. The long walks, the +talks of the monastery, the neighbours, the pet rooks, and Sammy the +great yellow cat, and the green-houses ... he remembered the pleasure he +had taken in those conversations!</p> + +<p>What must all this lead to? To a coarse affection, to marriage, to +children, to general domesticity.</p> + +<p>And contrasted with this....</p> + +<p>The dignified and grave life of the cloister, the constant sensation of +lofty and elevating thought, a high ideal, the communion of learned men, +the charm of headship.</p> + +<p>Could he abandon this? No, a thousand times no; but there was a melting +sweetness in the other cup. The anticipation filled his veins with +fever.</p> + +<p>And trembling and pale with passion, John fell on his knees and prayed +for grace. But prayer was sour and thin upon his lips, and he could only +beg that the temptation might pass from him....</p> + +<p>"In the morning," he said, "I shall be strong."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_V"></a><h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<br> + +<p>But if in the morning he were strong, Kitty was more beautiful than +ever, and they walked out in the sunlight. They walked out on the green +sward, under the evergreen oaks where the young rooks are swinging; out +on the mundane swards into the pleasure ground; a rosery and a rockery; +the pleasure ground divided from the park by iron railings, the park +encircled by the rich elms, the elms shutting out the view of the lofty +downs.</p> + +<p>The meadows are yellow with buttercups, and the birds fly out of the +gold. And the golden note is prolonged through the pleasure grounds by +the pale yellow of the laburnums, by the great yellow of the berberis, +by the cadmium yellow of the gorse, by the golden wallflowers growing +amid rhododendrons and laurels.</p> + +<p>And the transparent greenery of the limes shivers, and the young rooks +swinging on the branches caw feebly.</p> + +<p>And about the rockery there are purple bunches of lilac, and the striped +awning of the tennis seat touches with red the paleness of the English +spring.</p> + +<p>Pansies, pale yellow pansies!</p> + +<p>The sun glinting on the foliage of the elms spreads a napery of vivid +green, and the trunks come out black upon the cloth of gold, and the +larks fly out of the gold, and the sky is a single sapphire, and two +white clouds are floating. It is May time.</p> + +<p>They walked toward the tennis seat with its red striped awning. They +listened to the feeble cawing of young rooks swinging on the branches. +They watched the larks nestle in, and fly out of the gold. It was May +time, and the air was bright with buds and summer bees. She was dressed +in white, and the shadow of the straw hat fell across her eyes when she +raised her face. He was dressed in black, and the clerical frock coat +buttoned by one button at the throat fell straight.</p> + +<p>They sat under the red striped awning of the tennis seat. The large +grasping hands holding the polished cane contrasted with the reedy +translucent hands laid upon the white folds. The low sweet breath of the +May time breathed within them, and their hearts were light; hers was +conscious only of the May time, but his was awake with unconscious love, +and he yielded to her, to the perfume of the garden, to the absorbing +sweetness of the moment. He was no longer John Norton. His being was +part of the May time; it had gone forth and had mingled with the colour +of the fields and sky; with the life of the flowers, with all vague +scents and sounds; with the joy of the birds that flew out of and +nestled with amorous wings in the gold. Enraptured and in complete +forgetfulness of his vows, he looked at her, he felt his being +quickening, and the dark dawn of a late nubility radiated into manhood.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful the day is," he said, speaking slowly. "Is it not all +light and colour, and you in your white dress with the sunlight on your +hair seem more blossom-like than any flower. I wonder what flower I +should compare you to.... Shall I say a rose? No, not a rose, nor a +lily, nor a violet; you remind me rather of a tall delicate pale +carnation...."</p> + +<p>"Why, John, I never heard you speak like that before; I thought you +never paid compliments."</p> + +<p>The transparent green of the limes shivers, the young rooks caw feebly, +and the birds nestle with amorous wings in the blossoming gold. Kitty +has taken off her straw hat, the sunlight caresses the delicate +plenitudes of the bent neck, the delicate plenitudes bound with white +cambric, cambric swelling gently over the bosom into the narrow circle +of the waist, cambric fluted to the little wrist, reedy translucid +hands; cambric falling outwards and flowing like a great white flower +over the green sward, over the mauve stocking, and the little shoe set +firmly. The ear is as a rose leaf, a fluff of light hair trembles on the +curving nape, and the head is crowned with thick brown gold. "O to bathe +my face in those perfumed waves! O to kiss with a deep kiss the hollow +of that cool neck!..." The thought came he know not whence nor how, as +lightning falls from a clear sky, as desert horsemen come with a glitter +of spears out of the cloud; there is a shock, a passing anguish, and +they are gone.</p> + +<p>He left her. So frightened was he at this sudden and singular obsession +of his spiritual nature by a lower and grosser nature, whose existence +in himself was till now unsuspected, and of whose life and wants in +others he had felt, and still felt, so much scorn, that in the tumult of +his loathing he could not gain the calm of mind necessary for an +examination of conscience. He could not look into his mind with any +present hope of obtaining a truthful reply to the very eminent and vital +question, how far his will had participated in that burning but wholly +inexcusable desire by which he had been so shockingly assailed.</p> + +<p>That inner life, so strangely personal and pure, and of which he was so +proud, seemed to him now to be befouled, and all its mystery and inner +grace, and the perfect possession which was his sanctuary, lost to him +for ever. For he could never quite forget the defiling thought; it would +always remain with him, and the consciousness of the stain would +preclude all possibility of that refining happiness, that attribute of +cleanliness, which he now knew had long been his. In his anger and +self-loathing his rage turned against Kitty. It was always the same +story—the charm and ideality of man's life always soiled by woman's +influence; so it was in the beginning, so it shall be....</p> + +<p>He stopped before the injustice of the accusation; he remembered her +candour and her gracious innocence, and he was sorry; and he remembered +her youth and her beauty, and he let his thoughts dwell upon her. +Turning over his papers he came across the old monk's song to David:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Surge meo domno dulces fac, fistula versus:</p> +<p>David amat versus, surge fac fistula versus,</p> +<p>David amat vates vatorum est gloria David...."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The verses seemed meaningless and tame, but they awoke vague impulses in +him, and, his mind filled by a dim dream of King David and Bathsheba, he +opened his Bible and turned over the pages, reading a phrase here and +there until he had passed from story and psalm to the Song of songs, and +was finally stopped by—"I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye +find my beloved, that ye tell him that I am sick of love."</p> + +<p>He laid the book down and leaned back in his chair, and holding his +temple with one hand (this was his favourite attitude) he looked in the +fire fixedly. He was ravaged by emotion. The magical fervour of the +words he had just read had revealed to him the depth of his passion.</p> + +<p>But he would tear the temptation out of his heart. The conduct of his +life had been long ago determined upon. He had known the truth as if by +instinct from the first; no life was possible except an ascetic life, at +least for him. And in this hour of weakness he summoned to his aid all +his ancient ideals: the solemnity and twilight of the arches, the +massive Gregorian chant which seems to be at once their voice and their +soul, the cloud of incense melting upon the mitres and sunsets, and the +boys' treble hovering over an ocean of harmony. But although the picture +of his future life rose at his invocation it did not move him as +heretofore, nor did the scenes he evoked of conjugal grossness and +platitude shock him to the extent he had expected. The moral rebellion +he succeeded in exciting was tepid, heartless, and ineffective, and he +was not moved by hate or fear until he remembered that God in His +infinite goodness had placed him for ever out of the temptation which he +so earnestly sought to escape from. Kitty was a Protestant. In a pang +of despair, windows and organ collapsed like cardboard; incense and +arches vanished, and then rose again with the light of a more gracious +vision upon them. For if the dignity and desire of mere self-salvation +had departed, all the lighter colours and livelier joys of the +conversion of others filled the sky of faith with morning tones and +harmonies. And then?... Salvation before all things, he answered in his +enthusiasm;—something of the missionary spirit of old time was upon +him, and forgetful of his aisles, his arches, his Latin authors, he went +down stairs and asked Kitty to play a game of billiards.</p> + +<p>"We play billiards here on Sunday, but you would think it wrong to do +so."</p> + +<p>"But to-day is not Sunday."</p> + +<p>"No, I was only speaking in a general way. Yet I often wonder how you +can feel satisfied with the protection your Church affords you against +the miseries and trials of the world. A Protestant, you know, may +believe pretty nearly as little or as much as he likes, whereas in our +church everything is defined; we know what we must believe to be saved. +There is a sense of security in the Catholic Church which the Protestant +has not."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? That is because you do not know our Church," replied +Kitty, who was a little astonished at this sudden outburst. "I feel +quite happy and safe. I know that our Lord Jesus Christ died on the +Cross to save us, and we have the Bible to guide us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the Bible without the interpretation of the Church is ... may +lead to error. For instance..."</p> + +<p>John stopped abruptly. Seized with a sudden scruple of conscience he +asked himself if he, in his own house, had a right to strive to +undermine the faith of the daughter of his own friend.</p> + +<p>"Go on," cried Kitty, laughing, "I know the Bible better than you, and +if I break down I will ask father." And as if to emphasise her +intention, she hit her ball which was close under the cushion as hard as +she could.</p> + +<p>John hailed the rent in the cloth as a deliverance, for in the +discussion as to how it could be repaired, the religious question was +forgotten.</p> + +<p>But if he were her lover, if she were going to be his wife, he would +have the right to offer her every facility and encouragement to enter +the Catholic Church—the true faith. Darkness passes, and the birds are +carolling the sun, flowers and trees are pranked with ærial jewellery, +the fragrance of the warm earth flows in your veins, your eyes are fain +of the light above and your heart of the light within. He would not jar +his happiness by the presence of Mrs Norton, even Kitty's presence was +too actual a joy to be home. She drew him out of himself too completely, +interrupted the exquisite sense of personal enchantment which seemed to +permeate and flow through him with the sweetness of health returning to +a convalescent on a spring day. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts +came and went like soft light and shade in a garden close; his happiness +was a part of himself, as fragrance is inherent in the summer time. The +evil of the last days had fallen from him, and the reaction was +equivalently violent. Nor was he conscious of the formal resignation he +was now making of his dream, nor did he think of the distasteful load of +marital duties with which he was going to burden himself; all was lost +in the vision of beautiful companionship, a sort of heavenly journeying, +a bright earthly way with flowers and starlight—he a little in advance +pointing, she following, with her eyes lifted to the celestial gates +shining in the distance. Sometimes his arms would be thrown about her. +Sometimes he would press a kiss upon her face. She was his, his, and he +was her saviour. The evening died, the room darkened, and John's dream +continued in the twilight, and the ringing of the dinner bell and the +disturbance of dressing did not destroy his thoughts. Like fumes of +wine they hung about him during the evening, and from time to time he +looked at Kitty.</p> + +<p>But although he had so far surrendered himself, he did not escape +without another revulsion of feeling. A sudden realisation of what his +life would be under the new conditions did not fail to frighten him, and +he looked back with passionate regret on his abandoned dreams. But his +nature was changed, abstention he knew was beyond his strength, and +after many struggles, each of which was feebler than the last, he +determined to propose to Kitty on the first suitable occasion.</p> + +<p>Then came the fear of refusal. Often he was paralysed with pain, +sometimes he would morbidly allow his thoughts to dwell on the moment +when he would hear her say, it was impossible, that she did not and +could not love him. The young grey light of the eyes would be fixed upon +him; she would speak her sorrow, and her thin hands would hang by her +side in the simple attitude that was so peculiar to her. And he mused +willingly on the long meek life of grief that would then await him. He +would belong to God; his friar's frock would hide all; it would be the +habitation, and the Gothic walls he would raise, the sepulchre of his +love....</p> + +<p>"But no, no, she shall be mine," he cried out, moved in his very +entrails. Why should she refuse him? What reason had he to believe that +she would not have him? He thought of how she had answered his questions +on this and that occasion, how she had looked at him; he recalled every +gesture and every movement with wonderful precision, and then he lapsed +into a passionate consideration of the general attitude of mind she +evinced towards him. He arrived at no conclusion, but these meditations +were full of penetrating delight. Sometimes he was afflicted with an +intense shyness, and he avoided her; and when Mrs Norton, divining his +trouble, sent them to walk in the garden, his heart warmed to his +mother, and he regretted his past harshness.</p> + +<p>And this idyll was lived about the beautiful Italian house, with its +urns and pilasters; through the beautiful English park, with its elms +now with the splendour of summer upon them; in the pleasure grounds with +their rosary, and the fountain where the rose leaves float, and the +wood-pigeons come at eventide to drink; in the greenhouse with its live +glare of geraniums, where the great yellow cat, so soft and beautiful, +springs on Kitty's shoulder, rounds its back, and purring, insists on +caresses; in the large clean stables where the horses munch the corn +lazily, and look round with round inquiring eyes, and the rooks croak +and flutter, and strut about Kitty's feet. It was Kitty; yes, it was +Kitty everywhere; even the blackbird darting through the laurels seemed +to cry Kitty.</p> + +<p>To propose! Time, place, and the words he should use had been carefully +considered. After each deliberation, a new decision had been taken: but +when he came to the point, John found himself unable to speak any one of +the different versions he had prepared. Still he was very happy. The +days were full of sunshine and Kitty, and he mistook her +light-heartedness for affection. He had begun to look upon her as his +certain wife, although no words had been spoken that would suggest such +a possibility. Outside of his imagination nothing was changed; he stood +in exactly the same relation to her as he had done when he returned from +Stanton College, determined to build a Gothic monastery upon the ruins +of Thornby Place, and yet somehow he found it difficult to realise that +this was so.</p> + +<p>One morning he said, as they went into the garden, "You must sometimes +feel a little lonely here ... when I am away ... all alone here with +mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no! we have lots to do. I look after the pets in the morning. I +feed the cats and the rooks, and I see that the canaries have fresh +water and seed. And then the bees take up a lot of our time. We have +twenty-two hives. Mrs Norton says she ought to make five pounds a year +on each. Sometimes we lose a swarm or two, and then Mrs Norton is so +cross. We were out for hours with the gardener the other day, but we +could do no good; we could not get them out of that elm tree. You see +that long branch leaning right over the wall; well it was on that branch +that they settled, and no ladder was tall enough to reach them; and when +Bill climbed the tree and shook them out they flew right away."</p> + +<p>"Shall I, shall I propose to her now?" thought John. But Kitty continued +talking, and it was difficult to interrupt her. The gravel grated under +their feet; the rooks were flying about the elms. At the end of the +garden there was a circle of fig trees. A silent place, and John vowed +he would say the word there. But as they approached his courage died +within him, and he was obliged to defer his vows until they reached the +green-house.</p> + +<p>"So your time is fully occupied here."</p> + +<p>"And in the afternoon we go out for drives; we pay visits. You never +pay visits; you never go and call on your neighbours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes I do; I went the other day to see your father."</p> + +<p>"Ah yes, but that is only because he talks to you about Latin authors."</p> + +<p>"No, I assure you it isn't. Once I have finished my book I shall never +look at them again."</p> + +<p>"Well, what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Next winter I intend to go in for hunting. I have told a dealer to look +out for a couple of nice horses for me."</p> + +<p>Kitty looked up, her grey eyes wide open. If John had told her that he +had given the order for a couple of crocodiles she could not have been +more surprised.</p> + +<p>"But hunting is over now; it won't begin again till next November. You +will have to play lawn tennis this summer."</p> + +<p>"I have sent to London for a racquet and shoes, and a suit of flannels."</p> + +<p>"Goodness me.... Well, that is a surprise! But you won't want the +flannels; you might play in the Carmelite's habit which came down the +other day. How you do change your mind about things!"</p> + +<p>"Do you never change your mind, Kitty?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know, but not so suddenly as you. Then you are not going +to become a monk?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, it depends on circumstances."</p> + +<p>"What circumstances?" said Kitty, innocently.</p> + +<p>The words "<i>whether you will or will not have me</i>" rose to John's lips, +but all power to speak them seemed to desert him; he had grown suddenly +as weak as melting snow, and in an instant the occasion had passed. He +hated himself for his weakness. The weary burden of his love lay still +upon him, and the torture of utterance still menaced him from afar. The +conversation had fallen. They were approaching the greenhouse, and the +cats ran to meet their patron. Sammy sprang on Kitty's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't he a beauty? stroke him, do."</p> + +<p>John passed his hand along the beautiful yellow fur. Sammy rubbed his +head against his mistress' face, her raised eyes were as full of light +as the pale sky, and the rich brown head and the thin hands made a +picture in the exquisite clarity of the English morning,—in the +homeliness of the English garden, with tall hollyhocks, espalier apple +trees, and one labourer digging amid the cabbages. Joy crystal as the +morning itself illumined John's mind for a moment, and then faded, and +he was left lonely with the remembrance that his fate had still to be +decided, that it still hung in the scale.</p> + +<p>One evening as they were walking in the park, shadowy in the twilight of +an approaching storm, Kitty said:</p> + +<p>"I never would have believed, John, that you could care to go out for a +walk with me."</p> + +<p>"And why, Kitty?"</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed—her short sudden laugh was strange and sweet. John's +heart was beating. "Well," she said, without the faintest hesitation or +shyness, "we always thought you hated girls. I know I used to tease you, +when you came home for the first time; when you used to think of nothing +but the Latin authors."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed again.</p> + +<p>"You promise not to tell?"</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>This was their first confidence.</p> + +<p>"You told your mother when I came, when you were sitting by the fire +reading, that the flutter of my skirts disturbed you."</p> + +<p>"No, Kitty, I'm sure you never disturbed me, or at least not for a long +time. I wish my mother would not repeat conversations, it is most +unfair."</p> + +<p>"Mind you, you promised not to repeat what I have told you. If you do, +you will get me into an awful scrape."</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>The conversation came to a pause. Presently Kitty said, "But you seem to +have got over your dislike to girls. I saw you talking a long while with +Miss Orme the other day; and at the Meet you seemed to admire her. She +was the prettiest girl we had here."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed she wasn't!"</p> + +<p>"Who was, then?"</p> + +<p>"You were."</p> + +<p>Kitty looked up; and there was so much astonishment in her face that +John in a sudden access of fear said, "We had better make haste, the +storm is coming on; we shall get wet through."</p> + +<p>They ran towards the house. John reproached himself bitterly, but he +made no further attempt to screw his courage up to the point of +proposing. His disappointment was followed by doubts. Was his +powerlessness a sign from God that he was abandoning his true vocation +for a false one? and a little shaken, he attempted to interest himself +in the re-building of his house; but the project had grown impossible to +him, and he felt he could not embrace it again, with any of the old +enthusiasm at least, until he had been refused by Kitty. There were +moments when he almost yearned to hear her say that she could never love +him. But in his love and religious suffering the thought of bringing a +soul home to the true fold remained a fixed light; he often looked to it +with happy eyes, and then if he were alone he fell on his knees and +prayed. Prayer like an opiate calmed his querulous spirit, and having +told his beads—the great beads which hung on his prie-dieu—he would go +down stairs with peace in his heart, and finding Kitty, he would ask her +to walk with him in the garden, or they would stroll out on the tennis +lawn, racquet in hand.</p> + +<p>One afternoon it was decided that they should go for a long walk. John +suggested that they should climb to the top of Toddington Mount, and +view the immense plain which stretches away in dim blue vapour and a +thousand fields.</p> + +<p>You see John and Kitty as they cross the wide park towards the vista in +the circling elms,—she swinging her parasol, he carrying stiffly his +grave canonical cane. He still wears the long black coat buttoned at the +throat, but the air of hieratic dignity is now replaced by, or rather it +is glossed with, the ordinary passion of life. Both are like children, +infinitely amused by the colour of the grass and sky, by the hurry of +the startled rabbit, by the prospect of the long walk; and they taste +already the wild charm of the downs, seeing and hearing in imagination +its many sights and sounds, the wild heather, the yellow savage gorse, +the solitary winding flock, the tinkling of the bell-wether, the +cliff-like sides, the crowns of trees, the mighty distance spread out +like a sea below them with its faint and constantly dissolving horizon +of the Epsom Hills.</p> + +<p>"I never can cross this plain, Kitty, without thinking of the Dover +cliffs as seen in mid Channel; this is a mere inland imitation of them."</p> + +<p>"I have never seen the Dover cliffs; I have never been out of England, +but the Brighton cliffs give me an idea of what you mean."</p> + +<p>"On your side—the Shoreham side—the downs rise in a gently sloping +ascent from the sea."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we often walk up there. You can see Brighton and Southwick and +Worthing. Oh! it is beautiful! I often go for a walk there with my +friends, the Austen girls—you saw them here at the Meet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr Austen has a very nice property; it extends right into the town +of Shoreham, does it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and right up to Toddington Mount, where we are going. But aren't +you a little tired, John? These roads are very steep."</p> + +<p>"Out of breath, Kitty; let's stop for a minute or two." The country lay +below them. They had walked three miles, and Thornby Place and its elms +were now vague in the blue evening. "We must see one of these days if we +cannot do the whole distance."</p> + +<p>"What? right across the downs from Shoreham to Henfield?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is not more than eight miles; you don't think you could manage +it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, it is more than eight miles, and walking on the downs is +not like walking on the highroad. Father thinks nothing of it."</p> + +<p>"We must really try it."</p> + +<p>"What would you do if I were to get so tired that I could not go back or +forward?"</p> + +<p>"I would carry you."</p> + +<p>They continued their climb. Speaking of the Devil's Dyke, Kitty said—</p> + +<p>"What! you mean to say you never heard the legend? You, a Sussex man!"</p> + +<p>"I have lived very little in Sussex, and I used to hate the place; I am +only just beginning to like it."</p> + +<p>"And you don't like the Jesuits any more, because they go in for +matchmaking."</p> + +<p>"They are too sly for me, I confess; I don't approve of priests meddling +in family affairs. But tell me the legend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how steep these roads are. At last, at last. Now let's try and find +a place where we can sit down. The grass is full of that horrid prickly +gorse."</p> + +<p>"Here's a nice soft place; there is no gorse here. Now tell me the +legend."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" said Kitty, sitting herself on the spot that had been +chosen for her, "you do astonish me. You never heard of the legend of St +Cuthman."</p> + +<p>"No, do tell it to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I scarcely know how to tell it in ordinary words, for I learnt it +in poetry."</p> + +<p>"In poetry! In whose poetry?"</p> + +<p>"Evy Austen put it into poetry, the eldest of the girls, and they made +me recite it at the harvest supper."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's awfully jolly—I never should have thought she was so +clever. Evy is the dark-haired one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Evy is awfully clever; but she doesn't talk much about it."</p> + +<p>"Do recite it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I can remember it all. You won't laugh if I break +down."</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>THE LEGEND OF ST CUTHMAN.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"St Cuthman stood on a point which crowns</p> +<p>The entire range of the grand South Downs;</p> +<p>Beneath his feet, like a giant field,</p> +<p>Was stretched the expanse of the Sussex Weald.</p> +<p>'Suppose,' said the Saint,''twas the will of Heaven</p> +<p>To cause this range of hills to be riven,</p> +<p>And what were the use of prayers and whinings,</p> +<p>Were the sea to flood the village of Poynings:</p> +<p>'Twould be fine, no doubt, these Downs to level,</p> +<p>But to do such a thing I defy the Devil!'</p> +<p>St Cuthman, tho' saint, was a human creature,</p> +<p>And his eye, a bland and benevolent feature,</p> +<p>Remarked the approach of the close of day,</p> +<p>And he thought of his supper, and turned away.</p> +<p class="i2">Walking fast, he</p> +<p>Had scarcely passed the</p> +<p>First steps of his way, when he saw something nasty;</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas tall and big,</p> +<p class="i2">And he saw from its rig</p> +<p>'Twas the Devil in full diabolical fig.</p> +<p class="i2">There were wanting no proofs,</p> +<p class="i2">For the horns and the hoofs</p> +<p>And the tail were a fully convincing sight;</p> +<p class="i2">But the heart of the Saint</p> +<p class="i2">Ne'er once turned faint,</p> +<p>And his halo shone with redoubled light.</p> +<p class="i2">'Hallo, I fear</p> +<p class="i2">You're trespassing here!'</p> +<p>Said St Cuthman, 'To me it is perfectly clear,</p> +<p>If you talk of the devil, he's sure to appear!'</p> +<p class="i2">'With my spade and my pick</p> +<p class="i2">I am come,' said old Nick,</p> +<p>'To prove you've no power o'er a demon like me.</p> +<p class="i2">I'll show you my power—</p> +<p class="i2">Ere the first morning hour</p> +<p>Thro' the Downs, over Poynings, shall roll in the sea.'</p> +<p class="i2">'I'll give you long odds,'</p> +<p class="i2">Cried the Saint, 'by the gods!</p> +<p>I'll stake what you please, only say what your wish is.'</p> +<p class="i2">Said the devil, 'By Jove!</p> +<p class="i2">You're a sporting old cove!</p> +<p class="i2">My pick to your soul,</p> +<p class="i2">I'll make such a hole,</p> +<p>That where Poynings now stands, shall be swimming the fishes.'</p> +<p class="i2">'Done!' cried the Saint, 'but I must away</p> +<p class="i4">I have a penitent to confess;</p> +<p class="i2">In an hour I'll come to see fair play—</p> +<p class="i4">In truth I cannot return in less.</p> +<p>My bet will be won ere the first bright ray</p> +<p>Heralds the ascension of the day.</p> +<p>If I lose!—there will be <i>the devil to pay!</i>'</p> +<p>He descended the hill with a firm quick stride,</p> +<p>Till he reached a cell which stood on the side;</p> +<p>He knocked at the door, and it opened wide,—</p> +<p>He murmured a blessing and walked inside.</p> +<p>Before him he saw a tear-stained face</p> +<p>Of an elderly maiden of elderly grace;</p> +<p>Who, when she beheld him, turned deadly pale,</p> +<p>And drew o'er her features a nun's black veil.</p> +<p>'Holy father!' she said, 'I have one sin more,</p> +<p>Which I should have confessed sixty years before!</p> +<p>I have broken my vows—'tis a terrible crime!</p> +<p>I have loved <i>you</i>, oh father, for all that time!</p> +<p>My passion I cannot subdue, tho' I try!</p> +<p>Shrive me, oh father! and let me die!'</p> +<p>'Alas, my daughter,' replied the Saint,</p> +<p>'One's desire is ever to do what one mayn't,</p> +<p>There was once a time when I loved you, too,</p> +<p>I have conquered my passion, and why shouldn't you?</p> +<p class="i2">For penance I say,</p> +<p class="i2">You must kneel and pray</p> +<p>For hours which will number seven;</p> +<p class="i2">Fifty times say the rosary,</p> +<p class="i2">(Fifty, 'twill be a poser, eh?)</p> +<p>But by it you'll enter heaven;</p> +<p class="i2">As each hour doth pass,</p> +<p class="i2">Turn the hour glass,</p> +<p>Till the time of midnight's near;</p> +<p class="i2">On the stroke of midnight</p> +<p class="i2">This taper light,</p> +<p>Your conscience will then be clear.'</p> +<p>He left the cell, and he walked until</p> +<p>He joined Old Nick on the top of the hill.</p> +<p>It was five o'clock, and the setting sun</p> +<p>Showed the work of the Devil already begun.</p> +<p>St Cuthman was rather fatigued by his walk,</p> +<p>And caring but little for brimstone talk,</p> +<p>He watched the pick crash through layers of chalk.</p> +<p>And huge blocks went over and splitting asunder</p> +<p>Broke o'er the Weald like the crashing of thunder.</p> +<p>St Cuthman wished the first hour would pass,</p> +<p>When St Ursula, praying, reversed the glass.</p> +<p>'Ye legions of hell!' the Old Gentleman cried,</p> +<p>'I have such a terrible stitch in the side!'</p> +<p>'Don't work so hard,' said the Saint, 'only see,</p> +<p>The sides of your dyke a heap smoother might be.'</p> +<p>'Just so,' said the Devil, 'I've had a sharp fit,</p> +<p>So, resting, I'll trim up my crevice a bit.'</p> +<p>St Cuthman was looking prodigiously sly,</p> +<p>He knew that the hours were slipping by.</p> +<p class="i2">'Another attack!</p> +<p class="i2">I've cramp at my back!</p> +<p class="i2">I've needles and pins</p> +<p class="i2">From my hair to my shins!</p> +<p class="i2">I tremble and quail</p> +<p class="i2">From my horns to my tail!</p> +<p>I will not be vanquished, I'll work, I say,</p> +<p>This dyke shall be finished ere break of day!'</p> +<p>'If you win your bet, 'twill be fairly earned,'</p> +<p>Said the Saint, and again was the hour-glass turned.</p> +<p>And then with a most unearthly din</p> +<p>The farther end of the dyke fell in;</p> +<p>But in spite of an awful rheumatic pain</p> +<p>The Devil began his work again.</p> +<p>'I'll not be vanquished!' exclaimed the old bloke.</p> +<p>'By breathing torrents of flame and smoke,</p> +<p>Your dyke,' said the Saint, 'is hindered each minute,</p> +<p>What can one expect when the Devil is in it?'</p> +<p>Then an accident happened, which caused Nick at last</p> +<p>To rage, fume, and swear; when the fourth hour had passed,</p> +<p>On his hoof there came rolling a huge mass of quartz.</p> +<p class="i2">Then quite out of sorts</p> +<p class="i2">The bad tempered old cove</p> +<p>Sent the huge mass of stone whizzing over to Hove.</p> +<p>He worked on again, till a howl and a cry</p> +<p>Told the Saint one more hour—the fifth—had gone by.</p> +<p>'What's the row?' asked the Saint, 'A cramp in the wrist,</p> +<p>I think for a while I had better desist.'</p> +<p>Having rested a bit he worked at his chasm,</p> +<p>Till, the hour having passed, he was seized with a spasm.</p> +<p class="i2">He raged and he cursed,</p> +<p class="i2">'I bore this at first,</p> +<p>The rheumatics were awful, but this is the worst.'</p> +<p class="i2">With awful rage heated,</p> +<p class="i2">The demon defeated,</p> +<p>In his passion used words that can't be repeated.</p> +<p class="i2">Feeling shaken and queer,</p> +<p class="i2">In spite of his fear,</p> +<p>At the dyke he worked on until midnight drew near.</p> +<p>But when the glass turned for the last time, he found</p> +<p>That the head of his pick was stuck fast in the ground.</p> +<p>'Cease now!' cried St Cuthman, 'vain is your toil!</p> +<p>Come forth from the dyke! Leave your pick in the soil!</p> +<p>You agreed to work 'tween sunset and morn,</p> +<p>And lo! the glimmer of day is born!</p> +<p class="i2">In vain was your fag,</p> +<p class="i2">And your senseless brag.'</p> +<p>Dizzy and dazed with sulphureous vapour,</p> +<p>Old Nick was deceived by St Ursula's taper.</p> +<p>'The dawn!' yelled the Devil, 'in vain was my boast,</p> +<p>That I'd have your soul, for I've lost it, I've lost!'</p> +<p>'Away!' cried St Cuthman, 'Foul fiend! away!</p> +<p>See yonder approaches the dawn of day!</p> +<p>Return to the flames where you were before,</p> +<p>And molest these peaceful South Downs no more!'</p> +<p>The old gentleman scowled but dared not stay,</p> +<p>And the prints of his hoofs remain to this day,</p> +<p>Where he spread his dark pinions and soared away.</p> +<p class="i2">At St Ursula's cell</p> +<p class="i2">Was tolling the bell,</p> +<p>And St Cuthman in sorrow, stood there by her side.</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas over at last,</p> +<p class="i2">Her sorrows were past,</p> +<p>In the moment of triumph St Ursula died.</p> +<p class="i2">Tho' this was the ground,</p> +<p class="i2">There never were found</p> +<p>The tools of the Devil, his spade and his pick;</p> +<p class="i2">But if you want proof</p> +<p class="i2">Of the Legend, the hoof-</p> +<p class="i2">Marks are still in the hillock last trod by Old Nick."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"Oh! that is jolly. Well, I never thought the girl was clever enough to +write that. And there are some excellent rhymes in it, 'passed he' +rhyming with 'nasty,' and 'rosary' with 'poser, eh;' and how well you +recite it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I recited it better at the harvest supper; and you have no idea how +the farmers enjoyed it. They know the place so well, and it interested +them on that account. They understood it all."</p> + +<p>John sat as if enchanted,—by Kitty's almost childish grace, her +enthusiasm for her friend's poem, and her genuine enjoyment of it; by +the abrupt hills, mysterious now in sunset and legend; by the vast +plains so blue and so boundless: out of the thought of the littleness +of life, of which they were a symbol, there came the thought of the +greatness of love.</p> + +<p>"Won't you cross the poor gipsy's palm with a bit of silver, my pretty +gentleman, and she will tell you your fortune and that of your pretty +lady?"</p> + +<p>Kitty uttered a startled cry, and turning they found themselves facing a +strong, black-eyed girl. She repeated her question.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, Kitty, would you like to have your fortune told?"</p> + +<p>Kitty laughed. "It would be rather fun," she said.</p> + +<p>She did not know what was coming, and she listened to the usual story, +full by the way of references to John—of a handsome young man who would +woo her, win her, and give her happiness, children, and wealth.</p> + +<p>John threw the girl a shilling. She withdrew. They watched her passing +through the furze. The silence about them was immense. Then John spoke:</p> + +<p>"What the gipsy said is quite true; I did not dare to tell you so +before."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, John?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that I am in love with you, will you love me?"</p> + +<p>"You in love with me, John; it is quite absurd—I thought you hated +girls."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that, Kitty, say you will have me; make the gipsy's words +come true."</p> + +<p>"Gipsies' words always come true."</p> + +<p>"Then you will marry me?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought about marriage. When do you want me to marry you? I am +only seventeen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! when you like, later on, only say you will be mine, that you will +be mistress of Thornby Place one day, that is all I want."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't want to pull the house down any more."</p> + +<p>"No, no; a thousand times no! Say you will be my wife one of these +days."</p> + +<p>"Very well then, one of these days...." "And I may tell my mother of +your promise to-night?... It will make her so happy."</p> + +<p>"Of course you may tell her, John, but I don't think she will believe +it."</p> + +<p>"Why should she not believe it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Kitty, laughing, "but how funny, was it not, that +the gipsy girl should guess right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was indeed. I wanted to tell you before, but I hadn't the +courage; and I might never have found the courage if it had not been for +that gipsy."</p> + +<p>In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely +sensible of the importance of the promise she had given. And in silence +he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever +in his mind. Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, +and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard. +Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in +darkness that was almost night.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry we cannot see the house—your house," said John as they +descended the chalk road.</p> + +<p>"It seems so funny to hear you say that, John."</p> + +<p>"Why? It will be your house some day."</p> + +<p>"But supposing your Church will not let you marry me, what then...."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger of that; a dispensation can always be obtained. But +who knows.... You have never considered the question.... You know +nothing of our Church; if you did, you might become a convert. I wish +you would consider the question. It is so simple; we surrender our own +wretched understanding, and are content to accept the Church as wiser +than we. Once man throws off restraint there is no happiness, there is +only misery. One step leads to another; if he would be logical he must +go on, and before long, for the descent is very rapid indeed, he finds +himself in an abyss of darkness and doubt, a terrible abyss indeed, +where nothing exists, and life has lost all meaning. The Reformation was +the thin end of the wedge, it was the first denial of authority, and you +see what it has led to—modern scepticism and modern pessimism."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it means, but I heard Mrs Norton say you were a +pessimist."</p> + +<p>"I was; but I saw in time where it was leading me, and I crushed it out. +I used to be a Republican too, but I saw what liberty meant, and what +were its results, and I gave it up."</p> + +<p>"So you gave up all your ideas for Catholicism...."</p> + +<p>John hesitated, he seemed a little startled, but he answered, "I would +give up anything for my Church..."</p> + +<p>"What! Me?"</p> + +<p>"That is not required."</p> + +<p>"And did it cost you much to give up your ideas?"</p> + +<p>John raised his eyes—it was a look that Balzac would have understood +and would have known how to interpret in some admirable pages of human +suffering. "None will ever know how I have suffered," he said sadly. +"But now I am happy, oh! so happy, and my happiness would be complete +if.... Oh! if God would grant you grace to believe...."</p> + +<p>"But I do believe. I believe in our Lord Christ who died to save us. Is +not that enough?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a><h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<br> + +<p>Like Juggernaut's car, Catholicism had passed over John's mind, crushing +all individualism, and leaving it but a wreck of quaking mysticism. +Twenty times a day the spectre of his conscience rose and with menacing +finger threatened him with flames and demons. And his love was a source +of continual suffering. How often did he ask himself if he were +surrendering his true vocation? How often did he beg of God to guide him +aright? But these mental agitations were visible to no one. He preserved +his calm exterior and the keenest eye detected in him only an ordinary +young man with more than usually strict business habits. He had +appointments with his solicitor. He consulted with him, he went into +complex calculations concerning necessary repairs, and he laid plans for +the more advantageous letting of the farms.</p> + +<p>His mother encouraged him to attend to his business. Her head was full +of other matters. A dispensation had to be obtained; it was said that +the Pope was more than ever opposed to mixed marriages. But no objection +would be made to this one. It would be madness to object.... A rich +Catholic family at Henfield—nearly four thousand a-year—must not be +allowed to become extinct. Thornby Place was the link between the Duke +of Norfolk and the So and So's. If those dreadful cousins came in for +the property, Protestantism would again be established at Thornby Place. +And what a pity that would be; and just at a time when Catholicism was +beginning to make headway in Sussex. And if John did not marry now he +would never marry; of that she was quite sure.</p> + +<p>As may be imagined, these were not the arguments with which Mrs Norton +sought to convince the Rev. William Hare; they were those with which she +besieged the Brompton Oratory, Farm Street, and the Pro-Cathedral. She +played one off against the other. The Jesuits were nettled at having +lost him, but it was agreeable to learn that the Carmelites had been no +less unfortunate than they. The Oratorians on the whole thought he was +not in their "line"; and as their chance of securing him was remote, +they agreed that John would prove more useful to the Church as a married +man than as a priest. A few weeks later the Papal sanction was obtained.</p> + +<p>The clause concerning the children affected Mr Hare deeply, but he was +told that he must not stand in the way of the happiness of two young +people. He considered the question from many points of view, but in the +meantime Mrs Norton continued to deluge Kitty with presents, and to talk +to everybody of her son's marriage. The parson's difficulties were +thereby increased, and eventually he found he could not withhold his +consent.</p> + +<p>And as time went on, John seemed to take a more personal delight in +life than he had done before. He forgot his ancient prejudices if not +his ancient ideals, and, as was characteristic of him, he avoided +thinking with any definiteness on the nature of the new life into which +he was to enter soon. His neighbours declared he was very much improved; +and there were dinner parties at Thornby Place. One of his great +pleasures was to start early in the morning, and having spent a long day +with Kitty, to return home across the downs. The lofty, lonely +landscape, with its lengthy hills defined upon the flushes of July, came +in happy contrast with the noisy hours of tennis and girls; and standing +on the gently ascending slopes, rising almost from the wicket gate of +the rectory, he would wave farewells to Kitty and the Austins. And in +the glittering morning, grey and dewy, when he descended these slopes to +the strip of land that lies between them and the sea, he would pause on +the last verge where the barn stands. Squire Austin's woods are in +front, and they stretch by the town to the sleepy river with its +spiderlike bridge crossing the sandy marshes. The church spire and roofs +show through each break in the elm trees, and higher still the horizon +of the sea is shimmering.</p> + +<p>The rectory is rich brown brick and tiles. About it there is an ample +farmyard. Mr Hare has but the house and an adjoining field, the three +great ricks are Mr Austin's; the sunlight is upon them, and through the +long shadows the cart horses are moving with the drays; and now a +hundred pigeons rise and are seen against the green velvet of the elms, +and one bird's wings are white upon the white sea.</p> + +<p>Mr Hare is sitting in the verandah smoking, Kitty is attending to her +birds.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, John," she cried, "but I can't shake hands with you, my +hands are dirty. Do you talk to father, I haven't a moment. There is +such a lot to do. You know the Miss Austins are coming here to early +dinner, and we have two young men coming from Worthing to play tennis. +The court isn't marked yet."</p> + +<p>"I will help you to mark it."</p> + +<p>"Very well, but I am not ready yet."</p> + +<p>John lit a cigar, and he spoke of books to Mr Hare, whom he considered a +gross Philistine, although a worthy man. The shadows of the Virginia +creeper fell on the red pavement, and Kitty's light voice was heard on +the staircase. Presently she appeared, and lifting the trailing foliage, +she spoke to him. She took him away, and the parson watched the white +lines being marked on the sward. He watched them walk by the iron +railing that separated Little Leywood from Leywood, the Squire's house. +They passed through a small wooden gate into a bit of thick wood, and so +gained the drive. Mr Austin took John to see the horses, Kitty ran to +see the girls who were in their room dressing. How they chattered as +they came down stairs, and with what lightness and laughter they went to +Little Leywood. Their interests were centred in John, and Kitty took +the foremost place as an engaged girl. After dinner young men arrived, +and tennis was played unceasingly. At six o'clock, tired and hot with +air and exercise, all went in to tea—a high tea. At seven John said he +must be thinking of getting home; and happy and glad with all the +pleasant influences of the day upon them, Kitty and the Miss Austins +accompanied him as far as the farm gate.</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful walk you will have, Mr Norton; but aren't you tired? +Seven miles in the morning and seven in the evening!"</p> + +<p>"But I have had the whole day to rest in."</p> + +<p>"What a lovely evening! Let's all walk a little way with him," said +Kitty.</p> + +<p>"I should like to," said the elder Miss Austin, "but we promised father +to be home for dinner. The one sure way of getting into his black books +is to keep his dinner waiting, and he wouldn't dine without us."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-bye, dear," said Kitty, "I shall walk as far as the burgh."</p> + +<p>The Miss Austins turned into the rich trees that encircle Leywood, Kitty +and John faced the hill. They were soon silhouettes, and ascending, they +stood, tiny specks upon the pink evening hours. The table-land swept +about them in multitudinous waves; it was silent and solitary as the +sea. Lancing College, some miles distant, stood lonely as a lighthouse, +and beneath it the Ada flowed white and sluggish through the marshes, +the long spine of the skeleton bridge was black, and there, by that low +shore, the sea was full of mist, and sea and shore and sky were lost in +opal and grey. Old Shoreham, with its air of commerce, of stagnant +commerce, stood by the sea. The tide was out, the sea gates were dry, +only a few pools flashed silver amid the ooze; and the masts of the tall +vessels,—tall vessels aground in that strange canal or rather dyke +which runs parallel with and within a few yards of the sea for so many +miles,—tapered and leaned out over the sea banks, and the points of the +top masts could be counted. Then on the left hand towards Brighton, the +sea streamed with purple, it was striped with green, and it hung like a +blue veil behind the rich trees of Leywood and Little Leywood, and the +trees and the fields were full of golden rays.</p> + +<p>The lovers stood on a grassy plain; sheep were travelling over the great +expanses of the valleys; rooks were flying about. Looking over the plain +you saw Southwick,—a gleam of gables, a gleam of walls,—skirting a +plantation; and further away still, Brighton lay like a pile of rocks +heaped about a low shore.</p> + +<p>To the lovers life was now as an assortment of simple but beautiful +flowers; and they passed the blossoms to and fro and bound them into a +bouquet. They talked of the Miss Austins, of their flirtations, of the +Rectory, of Thornby Place, of Italy, for there they were going next +month on their honeymoon. The turnip and corn lands were as +inconceivable widths of green and yellow satin rolling through the rich +light of the crests into the richer shadow of the valleys. And there +there was a farm-house surrounded by buildings, surrounded by trees,—it +looked like a nest in its snug hollow; the smoke ascended blue and +peacefully. It was the last habitation. Beyond it the downs extend, in +almost illimitable ranges ascending to the wild golden gorse, to the +purple heather.</p> + +<p>We are on the burgh. The hills tumble this way and that; below is the +great weald of Sussex, blue with vapour, spotted with gold fields, level +as a landscape by Hobbema; Chanctonbury Ring stands up like a gaunt +watcher; its crown of trees is pressed upon its brow, a dark and +imperial crown.</p> + +<p>Overhead the sky is full of dark grey clouds; through them the sun +breaks and sheds silver dust over the landscape; in the passing gleams +the green of the furze grows vivid. If you listen you hear the tinkling +of the bell-wether; if you look you see a solitary rabbit. A stunted +hawthorn stands by the circle of stone, and by it the lovers were +sitting. He was talking to her of Italy, of cathedrals and statues, for +although he now loves her as a man should love, he still saw his +honeymoon in a haze of Botticellis, cardinals, and chants. They stood up +and bid each other good-bye, and waving hands they parted.</p> + +<p>Night was coming on apace, a long way lay still before him, and he +walked hastily; she being nearer home, sauntered leisurely, swinging her +parasol. The sweetness of the evening was in her blood and brain, and +the architectural beauty of the landscape—the elliptical arches of the +hills—swam before her. But she had not walked many minutes before a +tramp, like a rabbit out of a bush, sprang out of the furze where he had +been sleeping. He was a gaunt hulking fellow, six feet high.</p> + +<p>"Now 'aven't you a copper or two for a poor fellow, Missie?"</p> + +<p>Kitty started from him frightened. "No, I haven't, I have nothing ... go +away."</p> + +<p>He laughed hoarsely, she ran from him. "Now, don't run so fast, Missie, +won't you give a poor fellow something?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you 'ave; what about those pretty lips?"</p> + +<p>A few strides brought him again to her side. He laid his hand upon her +arm. She broke her parasol across his face, he laughed hoarsely. She saw +his savage beast-like eyes fixed hungrily upon her. She fainted for fear +of his look of dull tigerish cruelty. She fell....</p> + +<p>When shaken and stunned and terrified she rose from the ground, she saw +the tall gaunt figure passing away like a shadow. The wild solitary +landscape was pale and dim. In the fading light it was a drawing made on +blue paper with a hard pencil. The long undulating lines were defined +on the dead sky, the girdle of blue encircling sea was an image of +eternity. All now was the past, there did not seem to be a present. Her +mind was rocked to and fro, and on its surface words and phrases floated +like sea weed.... To throw her down and ill-treat her. Her frock is +spoilt; they will ask her where she has been to, and how she got herself +into such a state. Mechanically she brushed herself, and mechanically, +very mechanically she picked bits of furze from her dress. She held each +away from her and let it drop in a silly vacant way, all the while +running the phrases over in her mind: "What a horrible man ... he threw me +down and ill-treated me; my frock is ruined, utterly ruined, what a +state it is in! I had a narrow escape of being murdered. I will tell +them that ... that will explain ... I had a narrow escape of being +murdered." But presently she grew conscious that these thoughts were +fictitious thoughts, and that there was a thought, a real thought, +lying in the background of her mind, which she dared not face, which she +could not think of, for she did not think as she desired to; her +thoughts came and went at their own wild will, they flitted lightly, +touching with their wings but ever avoiding this deep and formless +thought which lay in darkness, almost undiscoverable, like a monster in +a nightmare.</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, she staggered, her sight seemed to fail her. There +was a darkness in the summer evening which she could not account for; +the ground seemed to slide beneath her feet, the landscape seemed to be +in motion and to be rolling in great waves towards the sea. Would it +precipitate itself into the sea, and would she be engulphed in the +universal ruin? O! the sea, how implacably serene, how remorselessly +beautiful; green along the shore, purple along the horizon! But the land +was rolling to it. By Lancing College it broke seaward in a soft lapsing +tide, in front of her it rose in angry billows; and Leywood hill, +green, and grand, and voluted, stood up a great green wave against the +waveless sea.</p> + +<p>"What a horrible man ... he attacked me, ill-treated me ... what for?" Her +thoughts turned aside. "He should be put in prison.... If father knew +it, or John knew it, he would be put in prison, and for a very long +time.... Why did he attack me?... Perhaps to rob me; yes, to rob me, of +course to rob me." The evening seemed to brighten, the tumultuous +landscape to grow still, To rob her, and of what?... of her watch; where +was it? It was gone. The happiness of a dying saint when he opens arms +to heaven descended upon her. The watch was gone ... but, had she lost it? +Should she go back and see if she could find it? Oh! impossible; see the +place again—impossible! search among the gorse—impossible! Horror! She +would die. O to die on the lonely hills, to lie stark and cold beneath +the stars! But no, she would not be found upon these hills. She would +die and be seen no more. O to die, to sink in that beautiful sea, so +still, so calm, so calm—why would it not take her to its bosom and hide +her away? She would go to it, but she could not get to it; there were +thousands of men between her and it.... An icy shiver passed through +her.</p> + +<p>Then as her thoughts broke away, she thought of how she had escaped +being murdered. How thankful she ought to be—but somehow she is not +thankful. And she was above all things conscious of a horror of +returning, of returning to where she would see men and women's faces... +men's faces. And now with her eyes fixed on the world that awaited her, +she stood on the hillside. There was Brighton far away, sparkling in the +dying light; nearer, Southwick showed amid woods, winding about the foot +of the hills; in front Shoreham rose out of the massy trees of Leywood, +the trees slanted down to the lawn and foliage and walls, made spots of +white and dark green upon a background of blue sea; further to the +right there was a sluggish silver river, the spine of the skeleton +bridge, a spur of Lancing hill, and then mist, pale mist, pale grey +mist.</p> + +<p>"I cannot go home", thought the girl, and acting in direct contradiction +to her thoughts, she walked forward. Her parasol—where was it? It was +broken. The sheep, how sweet and quiet they looked, and the clover, how +deliciously it smelt.... This is Mr Austin's farm, and how well kept it +is. There is the barn. And Evy and Mary, when would they be married? Not +so soon as she, she was going to be married in a month. In a month. She +repeated the words over to herself; she strove to collect her thoughts, +and failing to do so, she walked on hurriedly, she almost ran as if in +the motion to force out of sight the thoughts that for a moment +threatened to define themselves in her mind. Suddenly she stopped; there +were some children playing by the farm gate. They did not know that she +was by, and she listened to their childish prattle unsuspected. To +listen was an infinite assuagement, one that was overpoweringly sweet, +and for some moments she almost forgot. But she woke from her ecstacy in +deadly fear and great pain, for coming along the hedgerow the voice of a +man was heard, and the children ran away. And she ran too, like a +terrified fawn, trembling in every limb, and sick with fear she sped +across the meadows. The front door was open; she heard her father +calling. To see him she felt would be more than she could bear; she must +hide from his sight for ever, and dashing upstairs she double locked her +door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<br> + +<p>The sky was still flushed, there was light upon the sea, but the room +was dim and quiet. The room! Kitty had seen it under all aspects, she +had lived in it many years: then why does she look with strained eyes? +Why does she shrink? Nothing has been changed. There is her little +narrow bed, and her little bookcase full of novels and prayer-books; +there is her work-basket by the fireplace, by the fireplace closed in +with curtains that she herself embroidered; above her pillow there is a +crucifix; there are photographs of the Miss Austins, and pictures of +pretty children cut from the Christmas Numbers on the walls. She starts +at the sight of these familiar objects! She trembles in the room which +she thought of as a haven of refuge. Why does she grasp the rail of the +bed—why? She scarcely knows: something that is at once remembrance and +suspicion fills her mind. Is this her room?</p> + +<p>The thought ended. She walked hurriedly to and fro, and as she passed +the fuchsia in the window a blossom fell.</p> + +<p>She sat down and stared into dark space. She walked languidly and +purposelessly to the wardrobe. She stopped to pick a petal from the +carpet. The sound of the last door was over, the retiring footfall had +died away in the distance, the last voice was hushed; the moon was +shining on the sea. A lovely scene, silver and blue; but how the girl's +heart was beating! She sighed.</p> + +<p>She sighed as if she had forgotten, and approaching her bedside she +raised her hands to her neck. It was the instinctive movement of +undressing. Her hands dropped, she did not even unbutton her collar. She +could not. She resumed her walk, she picked up a blossom that had +fallen, she looked out on the pale white sea. There was moonlight now in +the room, a ghastly white spot was on the pillow. She was tired. The +moonlight called her. She lay down with her profile in the light.</p> + +<p>But there were smell and features in the glare—the odour was that of +the tramp's skin, the features—a long thin nose, pressed lips, small +eyes, a look of dull liquorish cruelty. And this presence was beside +her; she could not rid herself of it, she repulsed it with cries, but it +came again, and mocking, lay on the pillow.</p> + +<p>Horrible, too horrible! She sprang from the bed. Was there anyone in her +room? How still it was! The mysterious moonlight, the sea white as a +shroud, the sward so chill and death-like. What! Did it move? Was it he? +That fearsome shadow! Was she safe? Had they forgotten to bar up the +house? Her father's house! Horrible, too horrible, she must shut out +this treacherous light—darkness were better....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>The curtains are closed, but a ray glinting between the wall and curtain +shows her face convulsed. Something follows her: she knows not what, her +thoughts are monstrous and obtuse. She dares not look round, she would +turn to see if her pursuer is gaining upon her, but some invincible +power restrains her.... Agony! Her feet catch in, and she falls over +great leaves. She falls into the clefts of ruined tombs, and her hands +as she attempts to rise are laid on sleeping snakes—rattlesnakes: they +turn to attack her, and they glide away and disappear in moss and +inscriptions. O, the calm horror of this region! Before her the trees +extend in complex colonnades, silent ruins are grown through with giant +roots, and about the mysterious entrances of the crypts there lingers +yet the odour of ancient sacrifices. The stem of a rare column rises +amid the branches, the fragment of an arch hangs over and is supported +by a dismantled tree trunk. Ages ago the leaves fell, and withered; ages +ago; and now the skeleton arms, lifted in fantastic frenzy against the +desert skies, are as weird and symbolic as the hieroglyphics on the +tombs below.</p> + +<p>And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard.</p> + +<p>Flowers hang on every side,—flowers as strange and as gorgeous as +Byzantine chalices; flowers narrow and fluted and transparent as long +Venetian glasses; opaque flowers bulging and coloured with gold devices +like Chinese vases, flowers striped with cinnamon and veined with azure; +a million flower-cups and flower chalices, and in these as in censers +strange and deadly perfumes are melting, and the heavy fumes descend +upon the girl, and they mix with the polluting odour of the ancient +sacrifices. She sinks, her arms are raised like those of a victim; she +sinks overcome, done to death or worse in some horrible asphyxiation.</p> + +<p>And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. His claws are upon the crumbling tombs.</p> + +<p>The suffocating girl utters a thin wail. The vulture pauses, and is +stationary on the white and desert skies. She strives with her last +strength to free herself from the thrall of the great lianas, and she +falls into fresh meshes.... The claws are heard amid the ruins, there is +a hirsute smell; she turns with terrified eyes to plead, but she meets +only the dull liquorish eyes, and the breath of the obscene animal is on +her face.</p> + +<p>Then she finds herself in the pleasure grounds of Thornby Place. There +are the evergreen oaks, there is the rosary flaring all its wealth of +red, purple, and white flowers, there is the park encircled by elms, +there is the vista filled in with the line of the lofty downs. For a +moment she is surprised, and fails to understand. Then she forgets the +change of place in new sensations of terror. For across the park +something is coming, she knows not what; it will pass her by. She +watches a brown and yellow serpent, cubits high. Cubits high. It rears +aloft its tawny hide, scenting its prey. The great coiling body, the +small head, small as a man's hand, the black beadlike eyes shine out +upon the intoxicating blue of the sky. The narrow long head, the fixed +black eyes are dull, inexorable desire, conscious of nothing beyond, and +only dimly conscious of itself. Will the snake pass by the hiding girl? +She rushes to meet it. What folly! She turns and flies.</p> + +<p>She takes refuge in the rosary. It follows her, gathering its immense +body into horrible and hideous heights. How will she save herself? She +will pluck roses, and build a wall between her and it. She collects huge +bouquets, armfuls of beautiful flowers, garlands and wreaths. The +flower-wall rises, and hoping to combat the fury of the beast with +purity, she goes to where beautiful and snowy blossoms grow in +clustering millions. She gathers them in haste; her arms and hands are +streaming with blood, but she pays no heed, and as the snake surmounts +one barricade, she builds another. But in vain. The reptile leans over +them all, and the sour dirty smell of the scaly hide befouls the odorous +breath of the roses. The long thin neck is upon her; she feels the +horrid strength of the coils as they curl and slip about her, drawing +her whole life into one knotted and loathsome embrace. And all the while +the roses fall in a red and white rain about her. And through the ruin +of the roses she escapes from the stench and the coils, and all the +while the snake pursues her even into the fountain. The waves and the +snake close about her.</p> + +<p>Then without any transition in place or time, she finds herself +listening to the sound of rippling water. There is an iron drinking cup +close to her hand. She seems to recognise the spot. It is Shoreham. +There are the streets she knows so well, the masts of the vessels, the +downs. But suddenly something darkens the sunlight, the tawny body of +the snake oscillates, the people cry to her to escape. She flies along +the streets, like the wind she seems to pass. She calls for help. +Sometimes the crowds are stationary as if frozen into stone, sometimes +they follow the snake and attack it with sticks and knives. One man with +colossal shoulders wields a great sabre; it flashes about him like +lightning. Will he kill it? He turns and chases a dog, and disappears. +The people too have disappeared. She is flying now along a wild plain +covered with coarse grass and wild poppies. When she glances behind her +she sees the outline of the little coast town, the snake is near her, +and there is no one to whom she can call for help. But the sea is in +front of her, bound like a blue sash about the cliff's edge. She will +escape down the rocks—there is still a chance! The descent is sheer, +but somehow she retains foothold. Then the snake drops, she feels his +weight upon her, and both fall, fall, fall, and the sea is below +them....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>With a shriek she sprang from the bed, and still under the influence of +the dream, rushed to the window. The moon hung over the sea, the sea +flowed with silver, the world was as chill as an icicle.</p> + +<p>"The roses, the snake, the cliff's edge, was it then only a dream?" the +girl thought. "It was only a dream, a terrible dream, but after all only +a dream!" In her hope breathes again, and she smiles like one who thinks +he is going to hear that he will not die, but as the old pain returns +when the last portion of the deceptive sentence is spoken, so despair +came back to her when remembrance pierced the cloud of hallucination, +and told her that all was not a dream—there was something that was +worse than a dream.</p> + +<p>She uttered a low cry, and she moaned. Centuries seemed to have passed, +and yet the evil deed remained. It was still night, but what would the +day bring to her? There was no hope. Abstract hope from life, and what +blank agony you create!</p> + +<p>She drew herself up on her bed, and lay with her face buried in the +pillow. For the face was beside her: the foul smell was in her nostrils, +and the dull, liquorish look of the eyes shone through the darkness. +Then sleep came again, and she lay stark and straight as if she were +dead, with the light of the moon upon her face. And she sees herself +dead. And all her friends are about her crowning her with flowers, +beautiful garlands of white roses, and dressing her in a long white +robe, white as the snowiest cloud in heaven, and it lies in long +straight plaits about her limbs like the robes of those who lie in +marble in cathedral aisles. And it falls over her feet, and her hands +are crossed over her breast, and all praise in low but ardent words the +excessive whiteness of the garment. For none sees but she that there is +a black spot upon the robe which they believe to be immaculate. And she +would warn them of their error, but she cannot; and when they avert +their faces to wipe away their tears, the stain might be easily seen, +but when they turn to continue the last offices, folds or flowers have +mysteriously fallen over the stain, and hide it from view.</p> + +<p>And it is great pain to her to feel herself thus unable to tell them of +their error, for she well knows that when she is placed in the tomb, and +the angels come, that they will not fail to perceive the stain, and +seeing it they will not fail to be shocked and sorrowful,—and seeing it +they will turn away weeping, saying, "She is not for us, alas, she is +not for us!"</p> + +<p>And Kitty, who is conscious of this fatal oversight, the results of +which she so clearly foresees, is grievously afflicted, and she makes +every effort to warn her friends of their error: but in vain, for there +appears to be one amid the mourners who knows that she is endeavouring +to announce to them the black stain, and this one whose face she cannot +readily distinguish, maliciously and with diabolical ingenuity withdraws +attention at the moment when it should fall upon it.</p> + +<p>And so it comes that she is buried in the stained robe, and she is +carried amid flowers and white cloths to a white marble tomb, where +incense is burning, and where the walls are hung with votive wreaths and +things commemorative of virginal life and its many lovelinesses. But, +strange to say, upon all these, upon the flowers and images alike there +is some small stain which none sees but she and the one in shadow, the +one whose face she cannot recognise. And although she is nailed fast in +her coffin, she sees these stains vividly, and the one whose face she +cannot recognise sees them too. And this is certain, for the shadow of +the face is sometimes stirred by a horrible laugh.</p> + +<p>The mourners go, the evening falls, and the wild sunset floats for a +while through the western Heavens; and the cemetery becomes a deep +green, and in the wind that blows out of Heaven, the cypresses rock like +things sad and mute.</p> + +<p>And the blue night comes with stars in her tresses, and out of those +stars a legion of angels float softly; their white feet hang out of the +blown folds, their wings are pointed to the stars. And from out of the +earth, out of the mist, but whence and how it is impossible to say, +there come other angels dark of hue and foul smelling. But the white +angels carry swords, and they wave these swords, and the scene is +reflected in them as in a mirror; and the dark angels cower in a corner +of the cemetery, but they do not utterly retire.</p> + +<p>And then the tomb is opened, and the white angels enter the tomb. And +the coffin is opened, and the girl trembles lest the angels should +discover the stain she knew of. But lo! to her great joy they do not see +it, and they bear her away through the blue night, past the sacred +stars, even within the glory of Paradise. And it is not until one whose +face she cannot recognize, and whose presence among the angels of +Heaven she cannot comprehend, steals away one of the garlands of white +with which she was entwined, that the fatal stain becomes visible. The +angels are overcome with a mighty sorrow, and relinquishing their +burden, they break into song, and the song they sing is one of grief; +and above an accompaniment of spheral music it travels through the +spaces of Heaven; and she listens to its wailing echoes as she falls, +falls,—falls past the sacred stars to the darkness of terrestrial +skies,—falls towards the sea where the dark angels are waiting for her; +and as she falls she leans with reverted neck and strives to see their +faces, and as she nears them she distinguishes one into whose arms she +is going; it is, it is—the...</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>"Save me, save me!" she cried; and bewildered and dazed with the dream, +she stared on the room, now chill with summer dawn; the pale light broke +over the Shoreham sea, over the lordly downs and rich plantations of +Leywood. Again she murmured, it was only a dream, it was only a dream; +again a sort of presentiment of happiness spread like light through her +mind, and again remembrance came with its cruel truths—there was +something that was not a dream, but that was worse than the dream. And +then with despair in her heart she sat watching the cold sky turn to +blue, the delicate bright blue of morning, and the garden grow into +yellow and purple and red. There lay the sea, joyous and sparkling in +the light of the mounting sun, and the masts of the vessels at anchor in +the long water way. The tapering masts were faint on the shiny sky, and +now between them and about them a face seemed to be. Sometimes it was +fixed on one, sometimes it flashed like a will o' the wisp, and appeared +a little to the right or left of where she had last seen it. It was the +face that was now buried in her very soul, and sometimes it passed out +of the sky into the morning mist, which still heaved about the edges of +the woods; and there she saw something grovelling, crouching, +crawling,—a wild beast, or was it a man?</p> + +<p>She did not weep, nor did she moan. She sat thinking. She dwelt on the +remembrance of the hills and the tramp with strange persistency, and yet +no more now than before did she attempt to come to conclusions with her +thought; it was vague, she would not define it; she brooded over it +sullenly and obtusely. Sometimes her thoughts slipped away from it, but +with each returning, a fresh stage was marked in the progress of her +nervous despair.</p> + +<p>So the hours went by. At eight o'clock the maid knocked at the door. +Kitty opened it mechanically, and she fell into the woman's arms, +weeping and sobbing passionately. The sight of the female face brought +infinite relief; it interrupted the jarred and strained sense of the +horrible; the secret affinities of sex quickened within her. The woman's +presence filled Kitty with the feelings that the harmlessness of a lamb +or a soft bird inspires.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<br> + +<p>"But what is it, Miss, what is it? Are you ill? Why, Miss, you haven't +taken your things off; you haven't been to bed."</p> + +<p>"No, I lay down.... I have had frightful dreams—that is all."</p> + +<p>"But you must be ill, Miss; you look dreadful, Miss. Shall I tell Mr +Hare? Perhaps the doctor had better be sent for."</p> + +<p>"No, no; pray say nothing about me. Tell my father that I did not sleep, +that I am going to lie down for a little while, that he is not to expect +me down for breakfast."</p> + +<p>"I really think, Miss, that it would be as well for you to see the +doctor."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no. I am going to lie down, and I am not to be disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Shall I fill the bath, Miss? Shall I leave hot water here, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"Bath.... Hot water...." Kitty repeated the words over as if she were +striving to grasp a meaning which was suggested, but which eluded her. +Then her face relaxed, the expression was one of pitiful despair, and +that expression gave way to a sense of nausea, expressed by a quick +contraction of the eyes.</p> + +<p>She listened to the splashing of the water, and its echoes were repeated +indefinably through her soul.</p> + +<p>The maid left the room. Kitty's attention was attracted to her dress. It +was torn, it was muddy, there were bits of furze sticking to it. She +picked these off, and slowly she commenced settling it: but as she did +so, remembrance, accurate and simple recollection of facts, returned to +her, and the succession was so complete that the effect was equivalent +to a re-enduring of the crime, and with a foreknowledge of it, as if to +sharpen its horror and increase the sense of the pollution. The lovely +hills, the engirdling sea, the sweet glow of evening—she saw it all +again. And as if afraid that her brain, now strained like a body on the +rack, would suddenly snap, she threw up her arms, and began to take off +her dress, as violently as if she would hush thought in abrupt +movements. In a moment she was in stays and petticoat. The delicate and +almost girlish arms were disfigured by great bruises. Great black and +blue stains were spreading through the skin.</p> + +<p>Kitty lifted up her arm: she looked at it in surprise; then in horror +she rushed to the door where her dressing gown was hanging, and wrapped +herself in it tightly, hid herself in it so that no bit of her flesh +could be seen.</p> + +<p>She threw herself madly on the bed. She moved, pressing herself against +the mattress as if she would rub away, free herself from her loathed +self. The sight of her hand was horrible to her, and she covered it over +hurriedly.</p> + +<p>The maid came up with a tray. The trivial jingle of the cups and plates +was another suffering added to the ever increasing stress of mind, and +now each memory was accompanied by sensations of physical sickness, of +nausea.</p> + +<p>She slipped from the bed and locked the door. Again she was alone. An +hour passed.</p> + +<p>Her father came up. His footsteps on the stairs caused her intolerable +anguish. On entering the house she had hated to hear his voice, and now +that hatred was intensified a thousandfold. His voice sounded in her +ears false, ominous, abominable. She could not have opened the door to +him, and the effort required to speak a few words, to say she was tired +and wished to be left alone, was so great that it almost cost her her +reason. It was a great relief to hear him go. She asked herself why she +hated to hear his voice, but before she could answer a sudden +recollection of the tramp sprang upon her. Her nostrils recalled the +smell, and her eyes saw the long, thin nose and the dull liquorish eyes +beside her on the pillow.</p> + +<p>She got up and walked about the room, and its appearance contrasted +with and aggravated the fierceness of the fever of passion and horror +that raged within her. The homeliness of the teacups and the plates, the +tin bath, painted yellow and white, so grotesque and so trim.</p> + +<p>But not its water nor even the waves of the great sea would wash away +remembrance. She pressed her face against the pane. The wide sea, so +peaceful, so serene! Oblivion, oblivion, O for the waters of oblivion!</p> + +<p>Then for an hour she almost forgot; sometimes she listened, and the +shrill singing of the canary was mixed with thoughts of her dead +brothers and sisters, of her mother. She was waked from her reveries by +the farm bell ringing the labourers' dinner hour.</p> + +<p>Night had been fearsome with darkness and dreams, but the genial +sunlight and the continuous externality of the daytime acted on her +mind, and turned vague thoughts, as it were, into sentences, printed in +clear type. She often thought she was dead, and she favoured this idea, +but she was never wholly dead. She was a lost soul wandering on those +desolate hills, the gloom descending, and Brighton and Southwick and +Shoreham and Worthing gleaming along the sea banks of a purple sea. +There were phantoms—there were two phantoms. One turned to reality, and +she walked by her lover's side, talking of Italy. Then he disappeared, +and she shrank from the horrible tramp; then both men grew confused in +her mind, and in despair she threw herself on her bed. Raising her eyes +she caught sight of her prayer-book, but she turned from it moaning, for +her misery was too deep for prayer.</p> + +<p>The lunch bell rang. She listened to the footsteps on the staircase; she +begged to be excused, and she refused to open the door.</p> + +<p>The day grew into afternoon. She awoke from a dreamless sleep of about +an hour, and still under its soothing influence, she pinned up her +hair, settled the ribbons of her dressing gown, and went downstairs. She +found her father and John in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, here is Kitty!" they exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"But what is the matter, dear? Why are you not dressed?" said Mr Hare. +"But what is the matter.... Are you ill?" said John, and he extended his +hand.</p> + +<p>"No, no, 'tis nothing," she replied, and avoiding the outstretched hand +with a shudder, she took the seat furthest away from her father and +lover.</p> + +<p>They looked at her in amazement, and she at them in fear and trembling. +She was conscious of two very distinct sensations—one the result of +reason, the other of madness. She was not ignorant of the causes of +each, although she was powerless to repress one in favour of the other. +Both struggled for mastery and for the moment without disturbing the +equipoise. On the side of reason she knew very well she was looking at +and talking to her dear, kind father, and that the young man sitting +next him was John Norton, the son of her dear friend, Mrs Norton; she +knew he was the young man who loved her, and whom she was going to +marry, marry, marry. On the other side she saw that her father's kind +benign countenance was not a real face, but a mask which he wore over +another face, and which, should the mask slip—and she prayed that it +might not—would prove as horrible and revolting as—</p> + +<p>But the mask John wore was as nothing, it was the veriest make believe. +And she could not but doubt now but that the face she had known him so +long by was a fictitious face, and as the hallucination strengthened, +she saw his large mild eyes grow small, and that vague dreamy look turn +to the dull liquorish look, the chin came forward, the brows contracted +... the large sinewy hands were, oh, so like! Then reason asserted +itself; the vision vanished, and she saw John Norton as she had always +seen him.</p> + +<p>But was she sure that she did? Yes, yes—she must not give way. But her +head seemed to be growing lighter, and she did not appear to be able to +judge things exactly as she should; a sort of new world seemed to be +slipping like a painted veil between her and the old. She must resist.</p> + +<p>John and Mr Hare looked at her.</p> + +<p>John at length rose, and advancing to her, said, "My dear Kitty, I am +afraid you are not well...."</p> + +<p>She strove to allow him to take her hand, but she could not overcome the +instinctive feeling which, against her will, caused her to shrink from +him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't come near me, I cannot bear it!" she cried, "don't come near +me, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>More than this she could not do, and giving way utterly, she shrieked +and rushed from the room. She rushed upstairs. She stood in the middle +of the floor listening to the silence, her thoughts falling about her +like shaken leaves. It was as if a thunderbolt had destroyed the world, +and left her alone in a desert. The furniture of the room, the bed, the +chairs, the books she loved, seemed to have become as grains of sand, +and she forgot all connection between them and herself. She pressed her +hands to her forehead, and strove to separate the horror that crowded +upon her. But all was now one horror—the lonely hills were in the room, +the grey sky, the green furze, the tramp; she was again fighting +furiously with him; and her lover and her father and all sense of the +world's life grew dark in the storm of madness. Suddenly she felt +something on her neck. She put her hand up...</p> + +<p>And now with madness on her face she caught up a pair of scissors and +cut off her hair: one after the other the great tresses of gold and +brown fell, until the floor was strewn with them.</p> + +<p>A step was heard on the stairs; her quick ears caught the sound, and she +rushed to the door to lock it. But she was too late. John held it fast.</p> + +<p>"Kitty, Kitty," he cried, "for God's sake, tell me what is the matter!"</p> + +<p>"Save me! save me!" she cried, and she forced the door against him with +her whole strength. He was, however, determined on questioning her, on +seeing her, and he passed his head and shoulders into the room. His +heart quailed at the face he saw.</p> + +<p>For now had gone that imperceptible something which divides the life of +the sane from that of the insane, and he who had so long feared lest a +woman might soil the elegant sanctity of his life, disappeared forever +from the mind of her whom he had learned to love, and existed to her +only as the foul dull brute who had outraged her on the hills.</p> + +<p>"Save me, save me! help, help!" she cried, retreating from him.</p> + +<p>"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? Say, say—"</p> + +<p>"Save me; oh mercy, mercy! Let me go, and I will never say I saw you, I +will not tell anything. Let me go!" she cried, retreating towards the +window.</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, Kitty, take care—the window, the window!"</p> + +<p>But Kitty heard nothing, knew nothing, was conscious of nothing but a +mad desire to escape. The window was lifted high—high above her head, +and her face distorted with fear, she stood amid the soft greenery of +the Virginia creeper.</p> + +<p>"Save me," she cried, "mercy, mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Kitty, Kitty darling!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>The white dress passed through the green leaves. John heard a dull thud.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a><h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<br> + +<p>And the pity of it! The poor white thing lying like a shot dove, +bleeding, and the dreadful blood flowing over the red tiles....</p> + +<p>Mr Hare was kneeling by his daughter when John, rushing forth, stopped +and stood aghast.</p> + +<p>"What is this? Say—speak, speak man, speak; how did this happen?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say, I do not know; she did not seem to know me; she ran away. +Oh my God, I do not understand; she seemed as if afraid of me, and she +threw herself out of the window. But she is not dead..."</p> + +<p>The word rang out in the silence, ruthlessly brutal in its significance. +Mr Hare looked up, his face a symbol of agony. "Oh, dead, how can you +speak so..."</p> + +<p>John felt his being sink and fade like a breath, and then, conscious of +nothing, he helped to lift Kitty from the tiles. But it was her father +who carried her upstairs. The blood flowed from the terrible wound in +the head. Dripped. The walls were stained. When she was laid upon the +bed, the pillow was crimson; and the maid-servant coming in, strove to +staunch the wound with towels. Kitty did not move.</p> + +<p>Both men knew there was no hope. The maid-servant retired, and she did +not close the door, nor did she ask if the doctor should be sent for. +One man held the bed rail, looking at his dead daughter; the other sat +by the window. That one was John Norton. His brain was empty, everything +was far away. He saw things moving, moving, but they were all so far +away. He could not re-knit himself with the weft of life; the thread +that had made him part of it had been snapped, and he was left +struggling in space. He knew that Kitty had thrown herself out of the +window and was dead. The word shocked him a little, but there was no +sense of realisation to meet it. She had walked with him on the hills, +she had accompanied him as far as the burgh; she had waved her hand to +him before they walked quite out of each other's sight. They had been +speaking of Italy ... of Italy where they would have spent their +honeymoon. Now she was dead! There would be no honeymoon, no wife. How +unreal, how impossible it all did seem, and yet it was real, yes, real +enough. There she lay dead; here is her room, and there is her +book-case; there are the photographs of the Miss Austins, here is the +fuchsia with the pendent blossoms falling, and her canary is singing. +John glanced at the cage, and the song went to his brain, and he was +horrified, for there was no grief in his heart.</p> + +<p>Had he not loved her? Yes, he was sure of that; then why was there no +burning grief nor any tears? He envied the hard-sobbing father's grief, +the father who, prostrate by the bedside, held his dead daughter's hand, +and showed a face wild with fear—a face on which was printed so deeply +the terror of the soul's emotion, that John felt a supernatural awe +creep upon him; felt that his presence was a sort of sacrilege. He crept +downstairs. He went into the drawing-room, and looked about for the +place he had last seen her in. There it was.... There. But his eyes +wandered from the place, for it was there he had seen the startled face, +the half mad face which he had seen afterwards at the window, quite mad.</p> + +<p>On that sofa she usually sat; how often had he seen her sitting there! +And now he would not see her any more. And only three days ago she had +been sitting in the basket chair. How well he remembered her words, her +laughter, and now ... now; was it possible he never would hear her laugh +again? How frail a thing is human life, how shadow-like; one moment it +is here, the next it is gone. Here is her work-basket; and here the very +ball of wool which he had held for her to wind; and here is a novel +which she had lent to him, and which he had forgotten to take away. He +would never read it now; or perhaps he should read it in memory of her, +of her whom yesterday he parted with on the hills,—her little puritan +look, her external girlishness, her golden brown hair and the sudden +laugh so characteristic of her.... She had lent him this book—she who +was now but clay; she who was to have been his wife. His wife! The +thought struck him. Now he would never have a wife. What was there for +him to do? To turn his house into a Gothic monastery, and himself into a +monk. Very horrible and very bitter in its sheer grotesqueness was the +thought. It was as if in one moment he saw the whole of his life +summarised in a single symbol, and understood its vanity and its folly. +Ah, there was nothing for him, no wife, no life.... The tears welled up +in his eyes; the shock which in its suddenness had frozen his heart, +began to thaw, and grief fell like a penetrating rain.</p> + +<p>We learn to suffer as we learn to love, and it is not to-day, nor yet +to-morrow, but in weeks and months to come, and by slow degrees, that +John Norton will understand the irreparableness of his loss. There is a +man upstairs who crouches like stone by his dead daughter's side; he is +motionless and pale as the dead, he is as great in his grief as an +expression of grief by Michæl Angelo. The hours pass, he is unconscious +of them; he sees not the light dying on the sea, he hears not the +trilling of the canary. He knows of nothing but his dead child, and that +the world would be nothing to give to have her speak to him once again. +His is the humblest and the worthiest sorrow, but such sorrow cannot +affect John Norton. He has dreamed too much and reflected too much on +the meaning of life; his suffering is too original in himself, too +self-centred, and at the same time too much, based on the inherent +misery of existence, to allow him to project himself into and suffer +with any individual grief, no matter how nearly it might be allied to +him and to his personal interest. He knew his weakness in this +direction, and now he gladly welcomed the coming of grief, for indeed he +had felt not a little shocked at the aridness of his heart, and +frightened lest his eyes should remain dry even to the end.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he remembered that the Miss Austins had said that they would +call to-morrow early for Kitty, to take her to Leywood to lunch.... They +were going to have some tennis in the afternoon. He too was expected +there. They must be told what had occurred. It would be terrible if they +came calling for Kitty under her window, and she lying dead! This slight +incident in the tragedy wrung his heart, and the effort of putting the +facts upon paper brought the truth home to him, and lured and led him to +see down the lifelong range of consequences. The doctor too, he thought, +must be warned of what had happened. And with the letter telling the sad +story in his hand, and illimitable sorrow in his soul, he went out in +the evening air. It was just such an evening as yester evening—a little +softer, a little lovelier, perhaps; earth, sea, and sky appeared like an +exquisite vision upon whose lips there is fragrance, yet in whose eyes a +glow of passion still survives.</p> + +<p>The beauty of the last hour of light is upon that crescent of sea, and +the ships loll upon the long strand, the tapering masts and slacking +ropes vanish upon the pallid sky. There is the old town, dusty, and +dreamy, and brown, with neglected wharfs and quays; there is the new +town, vulgar and fresh with green paint and trees, and looking hungrily +on the broad lands of the Squire, the broad lands and the rich woods +which rise up the hill side to the barn on the limit of the downs. How +beautiful the great green woods look as they sweep up a small expanse of +the downs, like a wave over a slope of sand. And there is a house with +red gables where the girls are still on the tennis lawn. John walked +through the town; he told the doctor he must go at once to the rectory. +He walked to Leywood and left his letter with the lodge-keeper; and +then, as if led by a strange fascination, he passed through the farm +gate and set out to return home across the hills.</p> + +<p>"She was here with me yesterday; how beautiful she looked, and how +graceful were her laughter and speech," he said, turning suddenly and +looking down on the landscape; on the massy trees contrasting with the +walls of the town, the spine-like bridge crossing the marshy shore, the +sails of the mill turning over the crest of the hill. The night was +falling fast, as a blue veil it hung down over the sea, but the deep +pure sky seemed in one spot to grow clear, and suddenly the pale moon +shone and shimmered upon the sea. The landscape gained in loveliness, +the sheep seemed like phantoms, the solitary barns like monsters of the +night. And the hills were like giants sleeping, and the long outlines +were prolonged far away into the depths and mistiness of space. Turning +again and looking through a vista in the hills, John could see Brighton, +a pale cloud of fire, set by the moon-illumined sea, and nearer was +Southwick, grown into separate lines of light, that wandered into and +lost themselves among the outlying hollows of the hills; and below him +and in front of him Shoreham lay, a blaze of living fire, a thousand +lights; lights everywhere save in one gloomy spot, and there John knew +that his beloved was lying dead. And further away, past the shadowy +marshy shores, was Worthing, the palest of nebulæ in these earthly +constellations; and overhead the stars of heaven shone as if in pitiless +disdain. The blown hawthorn bush that stands by the burgh leaned out, a +ship sailed slowly across the rays of the moon. Yesterday they parted +here in the glad golden sunlight, parted for ever, for ever.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday I had all things—a sweet wife and happy youthful days to +look forward to. To-day I have nothing; all my hopes are shattered, all +my illusions have fallen. So is it always with him who places his trust +in life. Ah, life, life, what hast thou for giving save cruel deceptions +and miserable wrongs? Ah, why did I leave my life of contemplation and +prayer to enter into that of desire.... Ah, I knew, well I knew there +was no happiness save in calm and contemplation. Ah, well I knew; and +she is gone, gone, gone!"</p> + +<p>We suffer differently indeed, but we suffer equally. The death of his +sweetheart forces one man to reflect anew on the slightness of life's +pleasures and the depth of life's griefs. In the peaceful valley of +natural instincts and affections he had slept for a while, now he awoke +on one of the high peaks lit with the rays of intense consciousness, +and he cried aloud, and withdrew in terror at a too vivid realisation of +self. The other man wept for the daughter that had gone out of his life, +wept for her pretty face and cheerful laughter, wept for her love, wept +for the years he would live without her. We know which sorrow is the +manliest, which appeals to our sympathy, but who can measure the depth +of John Norton's suffering? It was as vast as the night, cold as the +stream of moonlit sea.</p> + +<p>He did not arrive home till late, and having told his mother what had +happened, he instantly retired to his room. Dreams followed him. The +hills were in his dreams. There were enemies there; he was often pursued +by savages, and he often saw Kitty captured; nor could he ever evade +their wandering vigilance and release her. Again and again he awoke, and +remembered that she was dead.</p> + +<p>Next morning John and Mrs Norton drove to the rectory, and without +asking for Mr Hare, they went up to <i>her</i> room. The windows were open, +and Annie and Mary Austin sat by the bedside watching. The blood had +been washed out of the beautiful hair, and she lay very white and fair +amid the roses her friends had brought her. She lay as she had lain in +one of her terrible dreams—quite still, the slender body covered by a +sheet, moulding it with sculptured delight and love. From the feet the +linen curved and marked the inflections of the knees; there were long +flowing folds, low-lying like the wash of retiring water; the rounded +shoulders, the neck, the calm and bloodless face, the little nose, and +the beautiful drawing of the nostrils, the extraordinary waxen pallor, +the eyelids laid like rose leaves upon the eyes that death has closed +for ever. Within the arm, in the pale hand extended, a great Eucharis +lily had been laid, its carved blossoms bloomed in unchanging stillness, +and the whole scene was like a sad dream in the whitest marble.</p> + +<p>Candles were burning, and the soft smell of wax mixed with the perfume +of the roses. For there were roses everywhere—great snowy bouquets, and +long lines of scattered blossoms, and single roses there and here, and +petals fallen and falling were as tears shed for the beautiful dead, and +the white flowerage vied with the pallor and the immaculate stillness of +the dead.</p> + +<p>The calm chastity, the lonely loveliness, so sweetly removed from taint +of passion, struck John with all the emotion of art. He reproached +himself for having dreamed of her rather as a wife than as a sister, and +then all art and all conscience went down as a broken wreck in the wild +washing sea of deep human love: he knelt by her bedside, and sobbed +piteously, a man whose life is broken.</p> + +<p>When they next saw her she was in her coffin. It was almost full of +white blossoms—jasmine, Eucharis lilies, white roses, and in the midst +of the flowers you saw the hands folded, and the face was veiled with +some delicate filmy handkerchief.</p> + +<p>For the funeral there were crosses and wreaths of white flowers, roses +and stephanotis. And the Austin girls and their cousins who had come +from Brighton and Worthing carried loose flowers. How black and sad, how +homely and humble they seemed. Down the short drive, through the iron +gate, through the farm gate, the bearers staggering a little under the +weight of lead, the little cortège passed two by two. A broken-hearted +lover, a grief-stricken father, and a dozen sweet girls, their eyes and +cheeks streaming with tears. Kitty, their girl-friend was dead, dead, +dead! The words rang in their hearts in answer to the mournful tolling +of the bell. The little by-way along which they went, the little green +path leading over the hill, under trees shot through and through with +the whiteness of summer seas, was strewn with blossoms fallen from the +bier and the dolent fingers of the weeping girls.</p> + +<p>The old church was all in white; great lilies in vases, wreaths of +stephanotis; and, above all, roses—great garlands of white roses had +been woven, and they hung along and across. A blossom fell, a sob +sounded in the stillness; and how trivial it all seemed, and how +impotent to assuage the bitter burning of human sorrow: how paltry and +circumscribed the old grey church, with its little graveyard full of +forgotten griefs and aspirations! This hour of beautiful sorrow and +roses, how long will it be remembered? The coffin sinks out of sight, +out of sight for ever, a snow-drift of delicate bloom descending into +the earth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_X"></a><h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<br> + +<p>From the Austin girls, whose eyes followed him, from Mr Hare, from Mrs +Norton, John wandered sorrowfully away,—he wandered through the green +woods and fields into the town. He stood by the railway gates. He saw +the people coming and going in and out of the public houses; and he +watched the trains that whizzed past, and he understood nothing, not +even why the great bar of the white gate did not yield beneath the +pressure of his hands; and in the great vault of the blue sky, white +clouds melted and faded to sheeny visions of paradise, to a white form +with folded wings, and eyes whose calm was immortality....</p> + +<p>A train stopped. He took a ticket and went to Brighton. As they steamed +along a high embankment, he found himself looking into a little +suburban cemetery. The graves, the yews, the sharp church spire +touching the range of the hills. <i>Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust +to dust</i>, and the dread responsive rattle given back by the coffin lid. +He watched the group in the distant corner, and its very remoteness and +removal from his personal knowledge and concern, moved him to passionate +grief and tears....</p> + +<p>He walked through the southern sunlight of the town to the long expanse +of sea. The mundane pier is taut and trim, and gay with the clangour of +the band, the brown sails of the fishing boats wave in the translucid +greens of water; and the white field of the sheer cliff, and all the +roofs, gables, spires, balconies, and the green of the verandahs are +exquisitely indicated and elusive in the bright air; and the beach is +strange with acrobats and comic songs, nursemaids lying on the pebbles +reading novels, children with their clothes tied tightly about them +building sand castles zealously; see the lengthy crowd of +promenaders—out of its ranks two little spots of mauve come running to +meet the advancing wave, and now they fly back again, and now they come +again frolicking like butterflies, as gay and as bright.</p> + +<p>Under the impulse of his ravening grief, John watched the spectacle of +the world's forgetfulness, and the seeming obscenity horrified him even +to the limits of madness. He cried that it might pass from him. +Solitude—the solemn peace of the hills, the appealing silence of a pine +wood at even; how holy is the idea of solitude, find it where you will. +The Gothic pile, the apostles and saints of the windows, the deep +purples and crimsons, and the sunlight streaming through, and the +pathetic responses and the majesty of the organ do not take away, but +enhance and affirm the sensation of idea and God. The quiet rooms +austere with Latin and crucifix; John could see them. Fondly he allowed +these fancies to linger, but through the dream a sense of reality began +to grow, and he remembered the narrowness of the life, when viewed from +the material side, and its necessary promiscuousness, and he thought +with horror of the impossibility of the preservation of that personal +life, with all its sanctuary-like intensity, which was so dear to him. +He waved away all thought of priesthood, and walking quickly down the +pier, looking on the gay panorama of town and beach, he said, "The world +shall be my monastery." + +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MERE ACCIDENT***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 11733-h.txt or 11733-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/3/11733">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/3/11733</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Mere Accident + +Author: George Moore + +Release Date: March 28, 2004 [eBook #11733] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MERE ACCIDENT*** + + +E-text prepared by Jon Ingram, David Cavanagh, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +A MERE ACCIDENT. + +BY + +GEORGE MOORE + +AUTHOR OF "A MUMMER'S WIFE," "A MODERN LOVER," +"A DRAMA IN MUSLIN," "SPRING DAYS," ETC. + +Fifth Edition + + + + + + + +TO + +My Friends at Buckingham. + +Nearly twenty years have gone since first we met, dear friends; time has +but strengthened our early affections, so for love token, for sign of +the years, I bring you this book--these views of your beautiful house +and hills where I have spent so many happy days, these last perhaps the +happiest of all. + +G. M. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. The grasses are lush, and the hedges are tall +and luxuriant. Restless boys scramble to and fro, quiet nursemaids +loiter, and a vagrant has sat down to rest though the bank is dripping +with autumn rain. How fair a prospect of southern England! Land of +exquisite homeliness and order; land of town that is country, of country +that is town; land of a hundred classes all deftly interwoven and all +waxing to one class--England. Land encrowned with the gifts of peaceful +days--days that live in thy face and the faces of thy children. + +See it. The outlying villas with their porches and laurels, the red +tiled farm houses, and the brown barns, clustering beneath the wings of +beautiful trees--elm trees; see the flat plots of ground of the market +gardens, with figures bending over baskets of roots; see the factory +chimney; there are trees and gables everywhere; see the end of the +terrace, the gleam of glass, the flower vase, the flitting white of the +tennis players; see the long fields with the long team ploughing, see +the parish church, see the embowering woods, see the squire's house, see +everything and love it, for everything here is England. + + * * * * * + +Three hundred yards of smooth, broad, white road, leading from Henfield, +a small town in Sussex. It disappears in the woods which lean across the +fields towards the downs. The great bluff heights can be seen, and at +the point where the roads cross, where the tall trunks are listed with +golden light, stands a large wooden gate and a small box-like lodge. A +lonely place in a densely-populated county. The gatekeeper is blind, and +his flute sounds doleful and strange, and the leaves are falling. + +The private road is short and stony. Apparently space was found for it +with difficulty, and it got wedged between an enormous holly hedge and a +stiff wooden paling. But overhead the great branches fight upwards +through a tortuous growth to the sky, and, as you advance, Thornby Place +continues to puzzle you with its medley of curious and contradictory +aspects. For as the second gate, which is in iron, is approached, your +thoughts of rural things are rudely scattered by sight of what seems a +London mews. Reason with yourself. This very urban feature is occasioned +by the high brick wall which runs parallel with the stables, and this, +as you pass round to the front of the house, is hidden in the clothing +foliage of a line of evergreen oaks; continuing along the lawn, the +trees bend about the house--a wash of Naples-yellow, a few sharp Italian +lines and angles. To complete the sketch, indicate the wings of the +blown rooks on the sullen sky. + +But our purpose lies deeper than that which inspires a water-colour +sketch. We must learn when and why that house was built; we must see how +the facts reconcile its somewhat tawdry, its somewhat suburban aspect, +with the richer and more romantic aspects of the park. The park is even +now, though it be the middle of autumn, full of blowing green, and the +brown circling woods, full of England and English home life. That single +tree in the foreground is a lime; what a splendour of leafage it will be +in the summer! Those four on the right are chestnuts, and those far +away, lying between us and the imperial downs, are elms; through that +vista you can see the grand line, the abrupt hollows, and the bit of +chalk road cut zig-zag out of the steep side. Then why the anomaly of +Italian urns and pilasters; why not red Elizabethan gables and diamond +casements? + +Why not? Because at the beginning of the century, when Brighton was +being built, fragments of architectural gossip were flying about Sussex, +and one of these had found its way to, and had rested in, the heart of +the grandfather of the present owner: in a simple and bucolic way he had +been seized by a desire for taste and style, and the present building +was the result. Therefore it will be well to examine in detail the house +which young John Norton of '86 was so fond of declaring he could never +see without becoming instantly conscious of a sense of dislike, a hatred +that he was fond of describing as a sort of constitutional complaint +which he was never quite free from, and which any view of the Rockery, +or the pilasters of the French bow-window, or indeed of anything +pertaining to Thornby Place, called at once into an active existence. + +Thornby Place is but two stories high, and its spruce walls of Portland +stone and ashlar work rise sheer out of the green sward; in front, Doric +columns support a heavy entablature, and there are urns at the corners +of the building. The six windows on the ground floor are topped with +round arches, and coming up the drive the house seems a perfect square. +But this regularity of structure has on the east side been somewhat +interfered with by a projection of some thirty or forty feet--a billiard +room, in fine, which during John's minority Mrs Norton had thought +proper to add. But she had lived to rue her experiment, for to this +young man, with his fretful craving for beauty and exactness of +proportion, it is an ever present source of complaint; and he had once +in a half humorous, half serious way, gone so far as to avail himself of +the "eyesore," as he called it, to excuse his constant absence from +home, and as a pretence for shutting himself up in his dear college, +with his cherished Latin authors. It was partly for the sake of avenging +himself on his mother, whose decisive practicality jarred the delicate +music of a nature extravagantly ideal, that he so severely criticised +all that she held sacred; and his strictures fell heaviest on the bow +window, looking somewhat like a temple with its small pilasters +supporting the rich cornice from which the dwarf vaulting springs. The +loggia, he admitted, although painfully out of keeping with the +surrounding country, was not wholly wanting in design, and he admired +its columns of a Doric order, and likewise the cornice that like a crown +encompasses the house. The entrance is under the loggia; there are round +arched windows on either side, a square window under the roof, and the +hall door is in solid oak studded with ornamental nails. + +On entering you find yourself in a common white-painted passage, and on +either side of the drawing-room and dining-room are four allegorical +female heads: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Further on is the +hall, with its short polished oak stairway sloping gently to a balcony; +and there are white painted pillars that support the low roof, and these +pillars make a kind of entrance to the passage which traverses the +house from end to end. England--England clear and spotless! Nowhere do +you find a trace of dust or disorder. The arrangement of things is +somewhat mechanical. The curtains and wall-paper in the bedrooms are +suggestive of trades people and housemaids; no hastily laid aside book +or shawl breaks the excessive orderliness. Every piece of furniture is +in its appointed place, and nothing testifies to the voluntariness of +the occupant, or the impulse prompted by the need of the moment. On the +presses at the ends of the passages, where is stored the house linen, +cards are hung bearing this inscription: "When washing the woodwork the +servants are requested to use no soda without first obtaining permission +from Mrs Norton." This detail was especially distasteful to John; he +often thought of it when away, and it was one of the many irritating +impressions which went to make up the sum of his dislike of Thornby +Place. + +Mrs Norton is now crying her last orders to the servants; and although +dressed elaborately as if to receive visitors, she has not yet laid +aside her basket of keys. She is in her forty-fifth year. Her figure is +square and strong, and not devoid of matronly charm. It approves a +healthy mode of life, and her quick movements are indicative of her +sharp determined mind. Her face is somewhat small for her shoulders, the +temples are narrow and high, the nose is long and thin, the cheek bones +are prominent, the chin is small, but unsuggestive of weakness, the lips +are pinched, the complexion is flushed, and the eyes set close above the +long thin nose are an icy grey. Mrs Norton is a handsome woman. Her +fashionably-cut silk fits her perfectly; the skirt is draped with grace +and precision, and the glossy shawl with the long soft fringe is elegant +and delightfully mundane. She raises her double gold eyeglasses, and, +contracting her forehead, stares pryingly about her; and so fashionable +is she, and her modernity is so picturesque, that for a moment you think +of the entrance of a duchess in the first act of a piece by Augier +played on the stage of the Francais. + +Still holding her gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she descended the +broad stairs to the hall, and from thence she went into the library. +There are two small bookcases filled with sombre volumes, and the busts +of Moliere and Shakespeare attempt to justify the appellation. But there +is in the character, I was almost going to say in the atmosphere of the +room, that same undefinable, easily recognizable something which +proclaims the presence of non-readers. The traces of three or four days, +at the most a week, which John occasionally spent at Thornby Place, were +necessarily ephemeral, and the weakness of Mrs Norton's sight rendered +continuous reading impossible. Sometimes Kitty Hare brought a novel from +the circulating library to read aloud, and sometimes John forgot one of +his books, and a volume of Browning still lay on the table. The room was +filled with shadow and mournfulness, and in a dusty grate the fire +smouldered. + +Between this room and the drawing-room, in a recess formed by the bow +window, Mrs Norton kept her birds, and still peering through her +gold-rimmed glasses, she examined their seed-troughs and water-glasses, +and, having satisfied herself as to their state, she entered the +drawing-room. There is little in this room; no pictures relieve the +widths of grey colourless wall paper, and the sombre oak floor is spaced +with a few pieces of furniture--heavy furniture enshrouded in grey linen +cloths. Three French cabinets, gaudy with vile veneer and bright brass, +are nailed against the walls, and the empty room is reflected dismally +in the great gold mirror which faces the vivid green of the sward and +the duller green of the encircling elms of the park. + +Mrs Norton let her eyes wander, and sighing she went into the +dining-room. The dining-room is always the most human of rooms, and the +dining-room in Thornby Place, although allied to the other rooms in an +absence of fancy in its arrangement, shows prettily in contrast to them +with its white cloth cheerful with flowers and ferns. The floor is +covered with a tightly stretched red cloth, the chairs are set in +symmetrical rows; with the exception of a black clock there is no +ornament on the chimney-piece, and a red cloth screen conceals the door +used by the servants. + +Mrs Norton walked with her quiet decisive step to the window, and +holding the gold-rimmed glasses to her eyes, she looked into the +landscape as if she were expecting someone to appear. The day was grimy +with clouds; mist had risen, and it hung out of the branches of the elms +like a veil of white gauze. Withdrawing her eye from the vague prospect +before her, Mrs Norton played listlessly with the tassel of one of the +blinds. "Surely," she thought, "he cannot have been foolish enough to +have walked over the downs such a day as this;" then, raising her +glasses again she looked out at the smallest angle with the wall of the +house, so that she should get sight of a vista through which any one +coming from Shoreham would have to pass. Presently a silhouette +appeared on the sullen sky. Mrs Norton moved precipitately from the +window, and she rang the bell sharply. + +"John," she said, "Mr Hare has been going in for one of his long walks. +I see him now coming across the park. I am sure he has walked over the +downs; if so he must be wet through. Have a fire lighted in Mr Norton's +room, put up a pair of slippers for him: here is the key of Mr Norton's +wardrobe; let Mr Hare have what he wants." + +And having detached one from the many bunches which filled her basket, +she went herself to open the door to her visitor. He was however still +some distance away, and standing in the shelter of the loggia she waited +for him, watched the vague silhouette resolving itself into colour and +line. But it was not until he climbed the iron fence which separated +the park from the garden grounds that the figure grew into its +individuality. Then you saw a man of about forty, about the medium +height and inclined to stoutness. His face was round and florid, and it +was set with sandy whiskers. His white necktie proclaimed him a parson, +and the grey mud with which his boots were bespattered told of his long +walk. As is generally the case with those of his profession, he spoke +fluently, his voice was melodious, and his rapid answers and his bright +eyes saved him from appearing commonplace. In addressing Mrs Norton he +used her Christian name. + +"You are quite right, Lizzie, you are quite right; I shouldn't have done +it: had I known what a state the roads were in, I wouldn't have +attempted it." + +"What is the use of talking like that, as if you didn't know what these +roads were like! For twenty years you have been making use of them, and +if you don't know what they are like in winter by this time, all I can +say is that you never will." + +"I never saw them in the state they are now; such a slush of chalk and +clay was never seen." + +"What can you expect after a month of heavy rain? You are wringing wet." + +"Yes, I was caught in a heavy shower as I was crossing over by +Fresh-Combe-bottom. I am certainly not in a fit state to come into your +dining-room." + +"I should think not indeed! I really believe if I were to allow it, +you would sit the whole afternoon in your wet clothes. You'll find +everything ready for you in John's room. I'll give you ten minutes. I'll +tell them to bring up lunch in ten minutes. Stay, will you have a glass +of wine before going upstairs?" + +"I am afraid of spoiling your carpet." + +"Yes, indeed! not one step further! I'll fetch it for you." + +When the parson had drunk the wine, and was following the butler +upstairs, Mrs Norton returned to the dining-room with the empty glass in +her hand. She placed it on the chimney piece; she stirred the fire, and +her thoughts flowed pleasantly as she dwelt on the kindness of her old +friend. "He only got my note this morning," she mused. "I wonder if he +will be able to persuade John to return home." Mrs Norton, in her own +hard, cold way, loved her son, but in truth she thought more of the +power of which he was the representative than of the man himself: the +power to take to himself a wife--a wife who would give an heir to +Thornby Place. This was to be the achievement of Mrs Norton's life, and +the difficulties that intervened were too absorbing for her to think +much whether her son would find happiness in marriage; nor was it +natural to her to set much store on the refining charm and the uniting +influences of mental sympathies. Had she not passed the age when the +sentimental emotions are liveliest? And the fibre was wanting in her to +take into much account the whispering or the silence of passion. + +Mrs Norton saw in marriage nothing but the child, and in the child +nothing but an heir--that is to say, a male who would continue the name +and traditions of Thornby Place. This would seem to indicate a material +nature, but such a misapprehension arises from the common habit of +confusing pure thought--thought which proceeds direct from the brain +and lives uncoloured by the material wants of life--with instincts whose +complexity often causes them to appear as mental potentialities, whereas +they are but instincts, inherited promptings, and aversions more or less +modified by physical constitution and the material forces of the life in +which the constitution has grown up; and yet, though pure thought, that +is to say the power of detaching oneself from the webs of life and +viewing men and things from a height, is the rarest of gifts, many are +possessed of sufficient intellectuality to enjoy with the brain apart +from the senses. Mrs Norton was such an one. After five o'clock tea she +would ask Kitty to read to her, and drawing her shawl about her +shoulders, would readily abandon the intellectual side of her nature to +the seductive charm of the romantic story of James of Scotland; and +while to the girl the heroism and chivalry were a little clouded by the +quaint turns of Rossetti's verse, to the woman these were added +delights, which her quiet penetrating understanding followed and took +instant note of. + +"Were mother and son ever so different?" was the common remark. The +artistic was the side of Mrs Norton's character that was unaffectedly +kept out of sight, just as young John Norton was careful to hide from +public knowledge his strict business habits, and to expose, perhaps a +little ostentatiously, the spiritual impulses in which he was so deeply +concerned: the subtle refinement of sacred places, from the mystery of +the great window with its mitres and croziers to the sunlit path between +the tombs where the children play, the curious and yet natural charm +that attendance in the sacristy had for him, the arrangement of the +large oak presses, wherein are stored the fine altar linen and the +chalices, the distributing of the wine and water that were not for +bodily need, and the wearing of the flowing surplices, the murmuring of +the Latin responses that helped so wonderfully to enforce the impression +of beautiful and refined life which was his, and which he lived beyond +the gross influences of the wholly temporal life which he knew was +raging almost but not quite out of hearing. But, however marked may be +the accidental variations of character, hereditary instincts are +irresistible, and in obedience to them John neglected nothing that +concerned his pecuniary instincts. He was in daily communication with +his agent, and the financial position of every farmer, and the state of +every farm on his property, were not only known to him but were +constantly borne in mind, and influenced him in that progressive +ordering of things which marked the administration of his property. He +was furnished quarterly with an account of all monies paid, to which +were joined descriptive notes of each farm, showing what alterations the +past three months had brought, and setting forth the agricultural +intentions and abilities of the occupier. + +John Norton waited the arrival of these accounts with a keen interest: +they were a relish to his life; and without experiencing any revulsion +of feeling, he would lay down a portfolio filled with photographs of +drawings by Leonardo da Vinci--studies of drapery, studies of hands and +feet, realistic studies of thin-lipped women and ecstatic angels with +the light upon their high foreheads--and cheerfully, and even with a +sense of satisfaction, he would untie the bald, prosaic roll of paper, +and seating himself at his window overlooking the long terrace, he would +add up the figures submitted to him, detecting the smallest arithmetical +error, making note of the least delay in payment of any money due, and +questioning the slightest overpayment for work done. The morning hours +fled as he pursued his congenial task; and from time to time he would +let his thoughts wander from the teasing computation of the money that +would be required to make the repairs that a certain farmer had +demanded, to the unworldly quiet of the sacristy; he would think, and +his thoughts contained an evanescent sense of the paradox, of the altar +linen he would have to fold and put away, and of the altar breads he +would presently have to write to London for; and meanwhile his eyes +would follow in delight the black figures of the Jesuits, who, with +cassocks blowing and berrettas set firmly on their heads, walked up and +down the long gravel walks reading their breviaries. + +And living thus, half in the persuasive charm of ceremonial, half in +the hard procession of account books, the last three years of John's +life had passed. On coming of age he had spent a few weeks at Thornby +Place, but the place, and especially the country, had appeared to +him so grossly protestant--so entirely occupied with the material +well-to-doness of life--that he declared he longed to breathe again the +breath of his beloved sacristy, that he must away from that close and +oppressive atmosphere of the flesh. Since then, with the exception of a +few visits of a few days he had lived at Stanton College, writing to his +mother not of the business which concerned his property, but of mental +problems and artistic impulses. On business matters he never consulted +her; but he thought it fortunate that she should choose to spend her +jointure on Thornby Place, and so save him a great deal of expense in +keeping up the house, which, although he disliked it with a dislike that +had grown inveterate, he was still unwilling to allow to fall to ruins. + +Mrs Norton, as has been said, was capable of understanding much in the +abstract; so long as things, and ideas of things, did not come within +the circle of her practical life, they were judged from a liberal +standpoint, but so soon as they touched any personal consideration, +they were judged by a moral code that in no way corresponded to her +intellectual comprehension of the matter she so unhesitatingly +condemned. But by this it must by no means be understood that Mrs Norton +wore her conscience easily--that it was a garment that could be +shortened or lengthened to suit all weathers. Our diagnosis of Mrs +Norton's character involves no accusation of laxity of principle. Mrs +Norton was a woman with an intelligence, who had inherited in all its +primary force a code of morals that had grown up in the narrower minds +of less gifted generations. In talking to her you were conscious of two +active and opposing principles: reason and hereditary morality. I use +"opposing" as being descriptive of the state of soul that would +generally follow from such mental contradiction, but in Mrs Norton no +shocking conflict of thought was possible, her mind being always +strictly subservient to her instinctive standard of right and wrong. + +And John had inherited the moral temperament of his mother's family, and +with it his mother's intelligence, nor had the equipoise been disturbed +in the transmitting; his father's delicate constitution in inflicting +germs of disease had merely determined the variation represented by the +marked artistic impulses which John presented to the normal type of +either his father's or his mother's family. It would therefore seem that +any too sudden corrective of defect will result in anomaly, and, in +the case under notice, direct mingling of perfect health with spinal +weakness had germinated into a marked yearning for the heroic ages, for +the supernatural as contrasted with the meanness of the routine of +existence. And now before closing this psychical investigation, and +picking up the thread of the story, which will of course be no more than +an experimental demonstration of the working of the brain into which we +are looking, we must take note of two curious mental traits both living +side by side, and both apparently negative of the other's existence: an +intense and ever pulsatory horror of death, a sullen contempt and often +a ferocious hatred of life. The stress of mind engendered by the +alternating of these themes of suffering would have rendered life an +unbearable burden to John, had he not found anchorage in an invincible +belief in God, a belief which set in stormily for the pomp and opulence +of Catholic ceremonial, for the solemn Gothic arch and the jewelled joy +of painted panes, for the grace and the elegance and the order of +hieratic life. + +In a being whose soul is but the shadow of yours, a second soul looking +towards the same end as your soul, or in a being whose soul differs +radically, and is concerned with other satisfactions and other ideals, +you will most probably find some part of the happiness of your dreams, +but in intercourse with one who is grossly like you, but who is +absolutely different when the upper ways of character are taken into +account, there will be--no matter how inexorable are the ties that +bind--much fret and irritation and noisy clashing. It was so with John +Norton and his mother; even in the exercise of faculties that had been +directly transmitted from one to the other there had been angry +collision. For example:--their talents for business were identical; but +while she thought the admirable conduct of her affairs was a thing to be +proud of, he would affect an air of negligence, and would willingly +have it believed that he lived independent of such gross necessities. +Then his malady--for intense depression of the spirits was a malady with +him--offered an ever-recurring cause of misunderstanding. How irritating +it was when he lay shut up in his room, his soul looking down with +murderous eyes on the poor worm that writhed out its life in view of the +pitiless stars, and longing with a fierce wild longing to shake off the +burning garment of consciousness, and plunge into the black happiness of +the grave, to hear Mrs Norton on the threshold uttering from time to +time admonitory remarks. + +"You should not give way to such feelings, sir; you should not allow +yourself to be unhappy. Look at me, am I unhappy? and I have more to +bear with than you, but I am not always thinking of myself.... I am in +fairly good health, and I am always cheerful! Why are you not the same? +You bring it all upon yourself; I have no pity for you.... You should +cease to think of yourself, and try to do your duty." + +John groaned when he heard this last word. He knew very well what his +mother meant. He should buy three hunters, he should marry. These were +the anodynes that were offered to him in and out of season. "Bad enough +that I should exist! Why precipitate another into the gulf of being?" +"Consort with men whose ideal hovers between a stable boy and a +veterinary surgeon;" and then, amused by the paradox, John, to whom the +chase was evocative of forests, pageantry, spears, would quote some +stirring verses of an old ballad, and allude to certain pictures by +Rubens, Wouvermans, and Snyders. "Why do you talk in that way?" "Why do +you seek to make yourself ridiculous?" Mrs Norton would retort. + +Smiling just a little sorrowfully, John would withdraw, and on the +following day he would leave for Stanton College. And it was thus that +Mrs Norton's temper scarred with deep wounds a nature so pale and +delicate, so exposed that it seemed as if wanting an outer skin; and as +Thornby Place appeared to him little more than a comprehensive symbol +of what he held mean, even obscene in life, his visits had grown shorter +and fewer, until now his absence extended to the verge of the second +year, and besieged by the belief that he was contemplating priesthood, +Mrs Norton had written to her old friend, saying that she wanted to +speak to him on matters of great importance. Now maturing her plans for +getting her boy back, she stood by the bare black mantel-piece, her head +leaning on her hand. She uttered an exclamation when Mr Hare entered. + +"What," she said, "you haven't changed your things, and I told you you +would find a suit of John's clothes. I must insist--" + +"My dear Lizzie, no amount of insistance would get me into a pair of +John's trousers. I am thirteen stone and a half, and he is not much over +ten." + +"Ah! I had forgotten, but what are you to do? Something must be done, +you will catch your death of cold if you remain in your wet clothes.... +You are wringing wet." + +"No, I assure you I am not. My feet were a little wet, but I have +changed my stockings and shoes. And now, tell me, Lizzie, what there is +for lunch," he said, speaking rapidly to silence Mrs Norton, whom he saw +was going to protest again. + +"Well, you know it is difficult to get much at this season of the year. +There are some chickens and some curried rabbit, but I am afraid you +will suffer for it if you remain the whole of the afternoon in those wet +clothes; I really cannot, I will not allow it." + +"My dear Lizzie, my dear Lizzie," cried the parson, laughing all over +his rosy skinned and sandy whiskered face, "I must beg of you not +to excite yourself. I have no intention of committing any of the +imprudences you anticipate. I will trouble you for a wing of that +chicken. James, I'll take a glass of sherry,... and while I am eating it +you shall explain as succinctly as possible the matter you are minded +to consult me on, and when I have mastered the subject in all its +various details, I will advise you to the best of my power, and having +done so I will start on my walk across the hills." + +"What! you mean to say you are going to walk home?... We shall have +another downpour presently." + +"Even so. I cannot come to much harm so long as I am walking, whereas if +I drove home in your carriage I might catch a chill.... It is at least +ten miles to Shoreham by the road, while across the hills it is not more +than six." + +"Six! it is eight if it is a yard!" + +"Well, perhaps it is; but tell me, I am curious to hear what you want to +talk to me about.... Something about John, is it not?" + +"Of course it is, what else have I to think about; what else concerns +middle-aged people like you and me but our children? Of course I want to +talk to you about John. Something must be done, things cannot go on as +they are. Why, it is nearly two years since he has been home. Oh, that +boy is breaking my heart, and none suspects it. If you knew how it +annoys me when the Gardiners and the Prestons congratulate me on having +a son so well behaved. They know he looks after his property sharp +enough, no drinking, no bad company, no debts. Ah! they little know.... +I would much sooner he were wild and foolish: young men get over those +kind of faults, but he will never get over his." + +Mr Hare felt these views to be of a doubtful orthodoxy, but he did not +press his opinion, and contented himself with murmuring gently that for +the moment he did not see that John's faults were of a particularly +aggravated character. + +"You do not see that his faults should cause me any uneasiness! Perhaps +it is very lucky he is not here, or you might encourage him in them. I +suppose you think he is doing quite right in spending his life at +Stanton College, aping a priest and talking about Gothic arches. Is it a +proper thing to transact all his business through a solicitor, and +never to see his tenants? Why does he not come and live at his own +beautiful place? Why does he not take up his position in the county? He +is not a magistrate. Why does he not get married?... he is the last; +there is no one to follow him. But he never thinks of that--he is afraid +that a woman might prove a disturbing influence in his life ... he feels +that he must live in an atmosphere of higher emotions. That's the way he +talks, and he is meditating, I assure you, a book on the literature of +the Middle Ages, on the works of bishops and monks who wrote Latin in +the early centuries. His mind, he says, is full of the cadences of that +language. That's the way he writes. He never asks me about his property, +never consults me in anything. Here is a letter I received yesterday. +Listen: + + +"'The poverty of spiritual life amid the western pagans could not fail to +encourage the growth of new religious tendencies. An epoch of great +spiritual activity had been succeeded by one of complete stagnation. A +glance at the literary progress of Rome since Tiberius will show this +emancipation from national and political considerations, the influence +of cosmopolitanism gave to the best specimens of Latin prose of the +silver age such riches and variety of substance and such individuality +of expression, that Seneca and Tacitus and the letters of Pliny are +marked with many modern characteristics. Form and language appear in +these writers only as the instrument and the matter wherewith men of +genius would express their intimate personality. Here antique culture +rises above itself, but, mark you, at the expense of all that is proper +to the Roman nation. Cosmopolitan Hellenism forces and breaks down the +bars of classical traditions, and, weary of restrictions these writers +first sought personal satisfaction, and then addressed themselves to +scholars rather than the people. + +"'But Hellenism found its medium in the Greek language, rich to +satiety, and possessing a syntax of such extraordinary flexibility, that +it could follow all evolutions without being shaken in its organism. It +was in vain that the Latin literature sought to maintain its position by +harking back to the writers anterior to Cicero, those that Hellenism had +not touched, and presenting them as models of style; and thus a new +school very fain of antiquity had sprung up, with Fronto for its +acknowledged chief--a school pre-occupied above all things by the form; +obsolete words set in a new setting, modern words introduced into old +cadences to freshen them with a bright and delightful varnish, in a +word, a language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea +and evanescent music--a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency +that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays--an autumn +forest.' + +"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to +call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediaeval +Latin. And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton +College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical +cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.' +Do you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would +you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the +chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about +organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever +hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it +would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them +better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I want +you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow, or +next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must +tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year, +building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent, +but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks +he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just +fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to +distant relatives--to those terrible cousins of ours." + +"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have +not seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I +don't think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are +after his money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the +priesthood in order that they may get hold of his property." + +"No, no; you must not say such a thing. I will not have you say anything +against his religion. I was very wrong to suggest such a thing. I am +sure no such idea ever entered the Jesuits' heads. Perhaps I am wrong to +send you to them.... Now I depend on you not to speak to him on +religious subjects." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Mrs Norton had known William Hare all her life. She was the youngest +daughter, he the youngest son of equal Yorkshire families. Separated by +about a mile of pasture and woodland, these families had for generations +lived unanimous lives. In England the hunting field, the grouse moor, +the croquet and tennis lawn, with its charming adjunct the five-o'clock +tea-table, have made life in certain classes almost communal; and Mrs +Norton and William Hare had stood in white frocks under Christmas trees +and shared sweetmeats. He often thought of the first time he saw her, +wearing a skirt that fell below her ankles, with her hair done up. And +she remembered his first appearance in evening clothes, and how +surprised and delighted she was to hear him ask her if he might have the +pleasure of a waltz. + +He went to Oxford to take his degree; she was taken to London for the +season, and towards the end of the third year she married Mr Norton, and +went to live at Thornby Place. Through the excitement of the marriage +arrangements, and the rapid impressions of her honeymoon, the thought of +having for neighbour the playmate of her youth had flitted across, but +had not rested in, her mind, and she did not realize the charm that it +was for her until one afternoon, now more than twenty years ago, a young +curate, bespattered with the grey mud of the downs, had startled her and +her husband by addressing her as Lizzie. Lizzie she had remained to him, +he was William to her, and henceforth their lives had been indissolubly +linked. Not a week had passed without their seeing each other. There +were visits to pay, there was hunting, and then habit intervened; and +for many years, in suffering, in joy, in hope, their thoughts had +instinctively looked to each other for reflective sympathy, and every +remembrable event was full of mutual associations. He had sat by her +when, after the birth of her first and only child, she lay pale, +beautiful, and weak on a sofa by a window blown by the tide of summer +scent; and the autumn of that same year he had walked with her in the +garden, where the leaves fell like the last illusion of youth under the +tears of an incurable grief; and staying in their walk they looked on +the house which was to be for evermore one of widowhood. + +Had she ever loved him? Had he ever loved her? In moments of passionate +loneliness she had yearned for his protection; in moments of deep +dejection he had dreamed of the happiness he might have found with her; +but in the broad day of their lives they had ever thought of each other +as friends. He had advised her on the management of her estate, on the +education of her son; and in his afflictions--in his widowerhood--when +his children quickly followed their mother to the grave, Mrs Norton's +form, face, and words had steadied him, and had helped him to bear with +a life of crumbling ruin. Kitty was now the only one that remained to +him. + +Mrs Norton had had projects of wealth and title for her son, but his +continued disdain of women and the love of women had long since forced +her to abandon her hopes, and now any one he might select she would +gladly welcome; but she whom Mrs Norton would have preferred to all +others was the daughter of her old friend. Her son had deserted her, and +now all her affections were centred in Kitty. Kitty was as much at +Thornby Place as at the Rectory, and in the gaiety of her bright eyes, +and in the shine of her gold-brown hair--for ever slipping from the gold +hair-pins in frizzed masses--Mrs Norton continued her dreams of her +son's marriage. + +Mr Hare thought it harsh that his daughter should be so constantly taken +from him, but the parsonage was so lonely for Kitty, and there were +luncheon and tennis parties at Thornby Place, and Mrs Norton took the +girl out for drives, and together they visited all the county families. +A suspicion of matchmaking sometimes crossed Mr Hare's mind, but it +faded in the knowledge that John was always at Stanton College; and to +send this fair flower to his great--to his only--friend, was a joy, and +the bitterness of temporary loss was forgotten in the sweetness of the +sharing. He had suffered much; but these last years had been quiet, free +from despair at least, and he wished to drift a little longer with the +tide of this time. Why strive to hasten events? If this thing was to be, +it would be. So he had thought of his daughter's marriage. Fancies had +long hung about the confines of his mind, but nothing had struck him +with the full force of a thought until suddenly he understood the exact +purport of his mission to Stanton College. He leaned forward as if he +were going to tell the driver to return, but before he could do so the +lodge-keeper opened the great gate, and the hansom cab rattled under the +archway. + +Then he viewed the scheme in general outline and in remote detail. It +was very simple. Lizzie had been to Shoreham, and had taken Kitty away +with her; he had been sent to Stanton College to beg John Norton to +return to Thornby Place, and to say what he could in favour of marriage +generally. This was very compromising. He had been deceived; Lizzie had +deceived him. She had no right to do such a thing; and, striving to +determine on a line of conduct, Mr Hare examined abstractedly the place +he was passing through. + +In large and serpentine curves the road wound through a wood of small +beech trees--so small that in the November dishevelment the plantations +were like so much brushwood; and, lying behind the wind-swept opening, +gravel walks appeared in grey fragments, and the green spaces of the +cricket field with a solitary divine reading his breviary. The drive +turned and turned again in great sloping curves; more divines were +passed, and then there came a long terrace with a balustrade and a view +of the open country, now full of mist. And to see the sharp spire of +the distant church you had to look closely, and slanting slowly upwards +the great plain drew a long and melancholy line across the sky. The +lower terrace was approached by an imposing flight of steps, there were +myriads of leaves in the air, and the college bell rang in its high red +tower. + +The high red walls of the college faced the dismal terraces, and the +triple line of diamond-paned and iron-barred windows stared upon the +ugly Staffordshire landscape. A square tower squatted in the middle of +the building, and out of it rose the octagon of the bell tower, and in +the tower wall was the great oak door studded with great nails. + +"How Birmingham the whole place does look," thought Mr Hare, as he laid +his hand on an imitation mediaeval bell-pull. + +"Is Mr John Norton at home?" he asked when the servant came. "Will you +give him my card, and say that I should like to see him." + +On entering, Mr Hare found himself in a tiled hall, around which was +built a staircase in varnished oak. There was a quadrangle, and from +three sides the interminable latticed windows looked down on the green +sward; on the fourth there was an open corridor, with arches to imitate +a cloister. All was strong and barren, and only about the varnished +staircase was there any sign of comfort. There a virgin in bright blue +stood on a crescent moon; above her the ceiling was panelled in oak, and +the banisters, the cocoa nut matting, the bit of stained glass, and the +religious prints, suggested a mock air of hieratic dignity. And the room +Mr Hare was shown into continued this impression. Cabinets in carved oak +harmonised with high-backed chairs glowing with red Utrecht velvet, and +a massive table, on which lay a folio edition of St Augustine's "City of +God" and the "Epistolae Consolitoriae" of St Jerome. + +The bell continued to clang, and through the latticed windows Mr Hare +watched the divines hurrying along the windy terrace, and the tramp of +the boys going to their class-rooms could be heard in passages below. + +Then a young man entered. He was thin, and he was dressed in black. His +face was very Roman, the profile especially was what you might expect to +find on a Roman coin--a high nose, a high cheek-bone, a strong chin, and +a large ear. The eyes were prominent and luminous, and the lower part of +the face was expressive of resolution and intelligence, but above the +eyes there were many indications of cerebral distortions. The forehead +was broad, but the temples retreated rapidly to the brown hair which +grew luxuriantly on the top of the head, leaving what the phrenologists +call the bumps of ideality curiously exposed, and this, taken in +conjunction with the yearning of the large prominent eyes, suggested at +once a clear, delightful intelligence,--a mind timid, fearing, and +doubting, such a one as would seek support in mysticism and dogma, that +would rise instantly to a certain point, but to drop as suddenly as if +sickened by the too intense light of the cold, pure heaven of reason to +the gloom of the sanctuary and the consolations of Faith. Let us turn to +the mouth for a further indication of character. It was large, the lips +were thick, but without a trace of sensuality. They were dim in colour, +they were undefined in shape, they were a little meaningless--no, not +meaningless, for they confirmed the psychological revelations of the +receding temples. The hands were large, powerful, and grasping; they +were earthly hands; they were hands that could take and could hold, and +their materialism was curiously opposed to the ideality of the eyes--an +ideality that touched the confines of frenzy. The shoulders were square +and carried well back, the head was round, with close-cut hair, the +straight-falling coat was buttoned high, and the fashionable collar, +with a black satin cravat, beautifully tied and relieved with a rich +pearl pin, set another unexpected but singularly charmful detail to an +aggregate of apparently irreconcilable characteristics. + +"And how do you do, my dear Mr Hare? and who would have expected to see +you here? I am so glad to see you." + +These words were spoken frankly and cordially, and there was a note of +mundane cheerfulness in the voice which did not quite correspond with +the sacerdotal elegance of this young man. Then he added quickly, as if +to save himself from asking the reason of this very unexpected visit-- + +"But you have never been here before; this is the first time you have +seen our college. And seeing it as it now is, you would not believe all +the delightful detail that a ray of sunlight awakens in that hideous +brown monotony, soaked with rain and bedimmed with mist." + +"Yes, I can quite understand that the college is not looking its best on +a day like this. We have had very wet weather lately." + +"No doubt, and I am afraid these late rains have interfered with the +harvest. The accounts from the North are very alarming, but in Sussex, I +suppose, everything was over at least two months ago. Still even there +the farmers have been losing money for some time back. I have had to +make some very heavy reductions. Pearson declared he could not possibly +continue at the present rent with corn as low as eight pounds a load. +This is very serious, but it is very difficult to arrive at the truth. I +want to talk to you; but we shall have plenty of time presently; you'll +stay and dine? And I'll show you over the college: you have never been +here before, and now I come to reckon it up, I find I have not seen you +for nearly five years." + +"It must be very nearly that; I missed you the last time you were at +Thornby Place, and that was three years ago." + +"Three years! It sounds very shocking, doesn't it? to have a beautiful +place in Sussex and not to live there: to prefer an ugly red-brick +college--Birmingham Tudor; my mother invented the expression. When she +is in a passion she hits on the very happiest concurrence of words; and +I must say she is right,--the architecture here is appallingly ugly; +and I don't think anything could be done to improve it, do you?" + +"I can't say that I can suggest anything for the moment, but I thought +it was for the sake of the architecture, which I frankly confess I don't +in the least admire, that you lived here." + +"You thought it was for the sake of the architecture...." + +"Then why do you not come home and spend Christmas with your mother!" + +"Christmas! Well, I suppose I ought to. But it will be hard to bear with +the plain Protestantism, the smug materialism of Sussex at such a +season; and when one thinks what the day is commemorative of--" + +"You surely do not mean that you would prefer to see the people +starving? If your dislike of Protestantism rests only on roast beef and +plum pudding...." + +"No, you don't understand. But I beg your pardon--I had really +forgotten...." + +"Never mind," said Mr Hare smiling; "continue: we were talking of roast +beef and plum pudding--" + +"Well, roast beef and plum pudding, say what you like, is a very +complete figuration of the Protestant ideal. Now let us think of +Sussex.... The villas with their gables, and railings, and laurels, the +snug farm-houses, the market-gardening, but especially the villas, so +representative of a sleepy smug materialism.... Oh, it is horrible; I +cannot think of Sussex without a revulsion of feeling. Sussex is utterly +opposed to the monastic spirit. Why, even the downs are easy, yes, easy +as one of the upholsterer's armchairs of the villa residences. And the +aspect of the county tallies exactly with the state of soul of its +people. In that southern county all is soft and lascivious; there is no +wildness, none of that scenical grandeur which we find in Scotland and +Ireland, and which is emblematic of the yearning of man's soul for +something higher than this mean and temporal life." + +There was rapture in John's eyes. With a quick movement of his hands he +seemed to spurn the entire materialism of Sussex. After a pause, he +continued: + +"There is no asceticism in Sussex, there is no yearning for anything +higher or better. You--yes, you and the whole place are, in every sense +of the word, Conservative--that is to say, brutally satisfied with the +present ordering of things." + +"Now, now, my dear John, by your own account Pearson is not by any means +so satisfied with the present condition of things as you yourself would +wish him to be." + +John laughed loudly, and it was clear that the paradox in no way +displeased him. + +"But we were speaking," he continued, "not of temporal, but of spiritual +pains and penalties. Now, anyone who did not know me--and none will ever +know me--would think that I had not a care in the world. Well, I have +suffered as horribly, I have been tortured as cruelly, as ever poor +mortal was.... I have lain on the floor of my room, my heart dead +within me, and moaned and shrieked with horror." + +"Horror of what?" + +"Horror of death and a worse horror of life. Few amongst men ever +realise the truth of things, but there are rare occasions, moments of +supernatural understanding or suffering (which are two words for one and +the same thing), when we see life in all its worm-like meanness, and +death in its plain, stupid loathsomeness. Two days out of this year live +like fire in my mind. I went to my uncle Richard's funeral. There was +cold meat and sherry on the table; a dreadful servant asked me if I +would go up to the corpse-room. (Mark the expression.) I went. It lay +swollen and featureless, and two busy hags lifted it up and packed it +tight with wisps of hay, and mechanically uttered shrieks and moans. + +"But, though the funeral was painfully obscene, it was not so obscene as +the view of life I was treated to last week.... + +"Last week I was in London; I went to a place they call the 'Colonies.' +Till then I had never realised the foulness of the human animal, but +there even his foulness was overshadowed by his stupidity. The masses, +yes, I saw the masses, and I fed with them in their huge intellectual +stye. The air was filled with lines of the most inconceivable flags, +lines upon lines of pale yellow, and there were glass cases filled with +pickle bottles, and there were piles of ropes and a machine in motion, +and in nooks there were some dreadful lay figures, and written +underneath them, 'Indian corn-seller,' 'Indian fish-seller.' And there +was the Prince of Wales on horseback, three times larger than life; and +there were stuffed deer upon a rock, and a Polar bear, and the Marquis +of Lome underneath. In another room there were Indian houses, things in +carved wood, and over each large placards announcing the popular dinner, +the _buffet_, the _table d'hote_, at half-a-crown; and there were oceans +of tea, and thousands of rolls of butter, and in the gardens the band +played 'Thine alone' and 'Mine again.' + +"It seemed as if all the back-kitchens and staircases in England had +that day been emptied out--life-tattered housewives, girls grown stout +on porter, pretty-faced babies, heavy-handed fathers, whistling boys in +their sloppy clothes, and attitudes curiously evidencing an odious +domesticity.... + +"In the Greek and Roman life there was an ideal, and there was a great +ideal in the monastic life of the Middle Ages; but an ideal is wholly +wanting in nineteenth century life. I am not of these later days. I am +striving to come to terms with life." + +"And you think you can do that best by folding vestments and reviling +humanity. I do not see how you reconcile these opinions with the +teaching of Christ--with the life of Christ." + +"Oh, of course, if you are going to use those arguments against me, I +have done; I can say no more." + +Mr Hare did not answer, and at the end of a long silence John said: + +"But, what do you say, supposing I show you over the college now, and +when that's done you will come up to my room and we'll have a smoke +before dinner?" + +Mr Hare raised no objection, and the two men descended the staircase +into the long stony corridor. The quadrangle filled the diamond panes +of the latticed windows with green, and the divine walking to and fro +was a spot of black. There were pictures along the walls of the +corridor--pictures of upturned faces and clasped hands--and these drew +words of commiseration for the artistic ignorance of the College +authorities from John's lips. + +"And they actually believe that that dreadful monk with the skull is a +real Ribera.... The chapel is on the right, the refectory on the left. +Come, let us see the chapel; I am anxious to hear what you think of my +window." + +"It ought to be very handsome; it cost five hundred, did it not?" + +"No, not quite so much as that," John answered abruptly; and then, +passing through the communion rails, they stood under the multi-coloured +glory of three bishops. Mr Hare felt that a good deal of rapture was +expected of him; but in his efforts to praise, he felt he was exposing +his ignorance. John called attention to the transparency of the +green-watered skies; and turning their backs on the bishops, the blue +ceiling with the gold stars was declared, all things considered, to be +in excellent taste. The benches in the body of the church were for boys; +the carved chairs set along both walls between the communion rails and +the first steps of the altar were for the divines. The president and +vice-president knelt facing each other. The priests, deacons, and +sub-deacons followed according to their rank. There were slenderer +benches, and these were for the choir; and from a music-book placed on +wings of the great golden eagle, the leader conducted the singing. + +The side altar, with the rich Turkey carpet spread over the steps, was +St George's, and further on, in an addition made lately, there were two +more altars, dedicated respectively to the Virgin and St Joseph. + +"The maid-servants kneel in that corner. I have often suggested +that they should be moved out of sight. You do not understand me. +Protestantism has always been more reconciled to the presence of women +in sacred places than we. We would wish them beyond the precincts. And +it is easy to imagine how the unspeakable feminality of those +maid-servants jars a beautiful impression--the altar towering white with +wax candles, the benedictive odour of incense, the richness of the +vestments, treble voices of boys floating, and the sweetness of a long +day spent about the sanctuary with flowers and chalices in my hands, +fade in a sense of sullen disgust, in a revulsion of feeling which I +will not attempt to justify." + +Then his thoughts, straying back to sudden recollections of monastic +usages and habits, he said: + +"I should like to scourge them out of this place." And then, half +playfully, half seriously, and wholly conscious of the grotesqueness, +he added: + +"Yes, I am not at all sure that a good whipping would not do them good. +They should be well whipped. I believe that there is much to be said in +favour of whipping." + +Mr Hare did not answer. He listened like one in a dark and unknown +place. But, as if unconscious of the embarrassment he was creating, John +told of the number of masses that were said daily, and of the eagerness +shown by the boys to obtain an altar. Altar service was rewarded by a +large piece of toast for breakfast. Handsome lads of sixteen were chosen +for acolytes, the torch-bearers were selected from the smallest boys, +the office of censer was filled by John Norton, and he was also the +chief sacristan, and had charge of the altar plate and linen and the +vestments. He spoke of the organ, and he depreciated the present +instrument, and enlarged upon some technical details anent the latest +modern improvements in keys and stops. + +They went up to the organ loft. John would play his setting of St +Ambrose's hymn, "Veni redemptor gentium," if Mr Hare would go to the +bellows, and feeling as if he were being turned into ridicule, Mr Hare +took his place at the handle; and he found it even more embarrassing +to give an opinion on the religiosity of the music, than on the +archaeological colouration of the bishops in the window. But John did +not court any very detailed criticism on his hymn, and alluding to the +fact that even in the fourth century accent was beginning to replace +quantity, he led the way to the sacristy. + +And it was impossible to avoid noticing that the opening of the carved +oaken presses, smelling sweet and benignly of orris root and lavender, +acted on John almost as a physical pleasure, and also that his hands +seemed nervous with delight as he unfolded the jewelled embroideries, +and smoothed out the fine linen of the under vestments; and his voice, +too, seemed to gain a sharp tenderness and emotive force, as he told how +these were the gold vestments worn by the bishop, and only on certain +great feast-days, and that these were the white vestments worn on days +especially commemorative of the Virgin. The consideration of the +censers, candlesticks, chalices, and albs took some time, and John was a +little aggressive in his explanation of Catholic ceremonial, and its +grace and comeliness compared with the stiffness and materialism of the +Protestant service. + +From the sacristy they went to the boys' library. John pointed out the +excellent supply of light literature that the bookcases contained. + +"We take travels, history, fairy-tales--romances of all kinds, so long +as sensual passion is not touched upon at any length. Of course we +don't object to a book in which just towards the end the young man falls +in love and proposes; but there must not be much of that sort of thing. +Here are Robert Louis Stevenson's works, 'Treasure Island,' 'Kidnapped,' +&c., charming writer--a neat pretty style, with a pleasant souvenir of +Edgar Poe running through it all. You have no idea how the boys enjoy +his books." + +"And don't you?" + +"Oh no; I have just glanced at him: for my own reading, I can admit none +who does not write in the first instance for scholars, and then to the +scholarly instincts in readers generally. Here is Walter Pater. We have +his Renaissance; studies in art and poetry--I gave it myself to the +library. We were so sorry we could not include that most beautiful book, +'Marius the Epicurean.' We have some young men here of twenty and three +and twenty, and it would be delightful to see them reading it, so +exquisite is its hopeful idealism; but we were obliged to bar it on +account of the story of Psyche, sweetly though it be told, and sweetly +though it be removed from any taint of realistic suggestion. Do you know +the book?" + +"I can't say I do." + +"Then read it at once. It is a breath of delicious fragrance blown back +to us from the antique world; nothing is lost or faded, the bloom of +that glad bright world is upon every page; the wide temples, the lustral +water--the youths apportioned out for divine service, and already happy +with a sense of dedication, the altars gay with garlands of wool and the +more sumptuous sort of flowers, the colour of the open air, with the +scent of the beanfields, mingling with the cloud of incense." + +"But I thought you denied any value to the external world, that the +spirit alone was worth considering." + +"The antique world knew how to idealise, and if they delighted in the +outward form, they did not leave it gross and vile as we do when we +touch it; they raised it, they invested it with a sense of aloofness +that we know not of. Flesh or spirit, idealise one or both, and I will +accept them. But you do not know the book. You must read it. Never did I +read with such rapture of being, of growing to spiritual birth. It +seemed to me that for the first time I was made known to myself; for the +first time the false veil of my grosser nature was withdrawn, and I +looked into the true ethereal eyes, pale as wan water and sunset skies, +of my higher self. Marius was to me an awakening; the rapture of +knowledge came upon me that even our temporal life might be beautiful; +that, in a word, it was possible to somehow come to terms with life.... +You must read it. For instance, can anyone conceive anything more +perfectly beautiful than the death of Flavian, and all that youthful +companionship, and Marius' admiration for his friend's poetry?... that +delightful language of the third century--a new Latin, a season of +dependency, an Indian summer full of strange and varied cadences, so +different from the monotonous sing-song of the Augustan age; the school +of which Fronto was the head. Indeed, it was Pater's book that first +suggested to me the idea of the book I am writing. But perhaps you do +not know I am writing a book.... Did my mother tell you anything about +it?" + +"Yes; she told me you were writing the history of Christian Latin." + +"Yes; that is to say, of the language that was the literary, the +scientific, and the theological language of Europe for more than a +thousand years." + +And talking of his book rapidly, and with much boyish enthusiasm, John +opened the doors of the refectory. The long, oaken tables, the great +fireplace, and the stained glass seemed to delight him, and he alluded +to the art classes of monastic life. The class-rooms were peeped into, +the playground was viewed through the lattice windows, and they went to +John's room, up a staircase curiously carpeted with lead. + +John's rooms! a wide, bright space of green painted wood and straw +matting. The walls were panelled from floor to ceiling. In the centre of +the floor there was an oak table--a table made of sharp slabs of oak +laid upon a frame that was evidently of ancient design, probably early +German, a great, gold screen sheltered a high canonical chair with +elaborate carvings, and on a reading-stand close by lay the manuscript +of a Latin poem. + +"And what is this?" said Mr Hare. + +"Oh! that is a poem by Milo, his 'De Sobricate.' I heard that the +manuscript was still preserved in the convent of Saint Amand, near +Tournai, and I sent and had a copy made for me. That was the simplest +way. You have no idea how difficult it is to buy the works of any Latin +authors except those of the Augustan age. Milo was a monk, and he lived +in the eighth century. He was a man of very considerable attainments, +if he were not a very great poet. He was a contemporary of Floras, who, +by the way, was a real poet. Some of his verses are delightful, full of +delicate cadence and colour. The MS. under your hand is a poem by him-- + + "'Montes et colles, silvaeque et flumina, fontes, + Praeruptaeque rupes, pariter vallesque profondae + Francorum lugete genus: quod munere christi, + Imperio celsum jacet ecce in pulvere mersum.' + +"That was written in the eighth century when the language was becoming +terribly corrupt; when it was hideous with popular idiom barbarously and +recklessly employed. But even in that time of autumnal decay and pallid +bloom, a real poet such as Walahfrid Strabat could weave a garland of +grace and beauty; one, indeed, that lived through the chance of +centuries in the minds of men. It found numberless imitators and favour +even with the Humanists, and it was reprinted eight times in the +seventeenth century. This poem is of especial interest to me on account +of the illustration it affords of a theory of my own concerning the +unconsciousness of the true artist. For breaking away from the literary +habitudes of his time, which were to do the gospels or the life of +a favourite saint into hexameters, he wrote a poem, 'Hortulus,' +descriptive of the garden of the monastery. The garden was all the world +to the monks; it furnished them at once with the pleasures and the +necessaries of their lives. Walahfrid felt this; he described his +feelings, and he produced a chef d'oeuvre." Going over to the bookcase, +John took down a volume. He read:-- + + "'Hoc nemus umbriferum pingit viridissima Rutae + Silvula coeruleae, foliis quae praedita parvis, + Umbellas jaculata brevis, spiramina venti + Et radios Phoebi caules transmittit ad imos, + Attactuque graves leni dispergit odores, + Haec cum multiplici vigeat virtute medelae, + Dicitur occultis apprime obstare venenis, + Toxicaque invasis incommoda pellere fibris.' + +"Now, can anything be more charming? True it is that pingit in the first +line does not seem to construe satisfactorily, and I am not certain that +the poet may not have written _fingit_. Fingit would not be pure Latin, +but that is beside the question." + +"Indeed it is. I must say I prefer the Georgics. I have known many +strange tastes, but your fancy for bad Latin is the strangest of all." + +"Classical Latin, with the exception of Tacitus, is cold-blooded and +self-satisfied. There is no agitation, no fever; to me it is utterly +without interest." + +To the books and manuscripts the pictures on the walls afforded an +abrupt contrast. No. 1. "A Japanese Girl," by Monet. A poppy in the pale +green walls; a wonderful macaw! Why does it not speak in strange +dialect? It trails lengths of red silk. Such red! The pigment is twirled +and heaped with quaint device, until it seems to be beautiful embroidery +rather than painting; and the straw-coloured hair, and the blond light +on the face, and the unimaginable coquetting of that fan.... + +No. 2. "The Drop Curtain," by Degas. The drop curtain is fast +descending; only a yard of space remains. What a yardful of curious +comment, what satirical note on the preposterousness of human +existence! what life there is in every line; and the painter has made +meaning with every blot of colour! Look at the two principal dancers! +They are down on their knees, arms raised, bosoms advanced, skirts +extended, a hundred coryphees are clustered about them. Leaning hands, +uplifted necks, painted eyes, scarlet mouths, a piece of thigh, arched +insteps, and all is blurred; vanity, animalism, indecency, absurdity, +and all to be whelmed into oblivion in a moment. Wonderful life; +wonderful Degas! + +No. 3. "A Suburb," by Monet. Snow! the world is white. The furry fluff +has ceased to fall, and the sky is darkling and the night advances, +dragging the horizon up with it like a heavy, deadly curtain. But the +roof of the villa is white, and the green of the laurels shaken free of +the snow shines through the railings, and the shadows that lie across +the road leading to town are blue--yes, as blue as the slates under the +immaculate snow. + +No. 4. "The Cliff's Edge," by Monet. Blue? purple the sea is; no, it is +violet; 'tis striped with violet and flooded with purple; there are +living greens, it is full of fading blues. The dazzling sky deepens as +it rises to breathless azure, and the soul pines for and is fain of God. +White sails show aloft; a line of dissolving horizon; a fragment of +overhanging cliff wild with coarse grass and bright with poppies, and +musical with the lapsing of the summer waves. + +There were in all six pictures--a tall glass filled with pale roses, by +Renoir; a girl tying up her garter, by Monet. + +Through the bedroom door Mr Hare saw a narrow iron bed, an iron +washhand-stand, and a prie-dieu. A curious three-cornered wardrobe stood +in one corner, and facing it, in front of the prie-dieu, a life-size +Christ hung with outstretched arms. The parson looked round for a seat, +but the chairs were like cottage stools on high legs, and the angular +backs looked terribly knife-like. + +"Sit in the arm-chair. Shall I get you a pillow from the next room? +Personally I cannot bear upholstery; I cannot conceive anything more +hideous than a padded arm-chair. All design is lost in that infamous +stuffing. Stuffing is a vicious excuse for the absence of design. If +upholstery was forbidden by law to-morrow, in ten years we should have +a school of design. Then the necessity of composition would be +imperative." + +"I daresay there is a good deal in what you say; but tell me, don't you +find these chairs very uncomfortable. Don't you think that you would +find a good comfortable arm-chair very useful for reading purposes?" + +"No, I should feel far more uncomfortable on a cushion than I do on this +bit of hard oak. Our ancestors had an innate sense of form that we have +not. Look at these chairs, nothing can be plainer; a cottage stool is +hardly more simple, and yet they are not offensive to the eye. I had +them made from a picture by Albert Durer. But tell me, what will you +take to drink? Will you have a glass of champagne, or a brandy and +soda, or what do you say to an absinthe?" + +"'Pon my word, you seem to look after yourself. You don't forget the +inner man." + +"I always keep a good supply of liquor; have a cigar?" And John passed +to him a box of fragrant and richly coloured Havanas.... Mr Hare took a +cigar, and glanced at the table on which John was mixing the drinks. It +was a slip of marble, rested, cafe fashion, on iron supports. + +"But that table is modern, surely?--quite modern!" + +"Quite; it is a cafe table, but it does not offend my eye. You surely +would not have me collect a lot of old-fashioned furniture and pile it +up in my rooms, Turkey carpets and Japaneseries of all sorts; a room +such as Sir Fred. Leighton would declare was intended to be merely +beautiful." + +Striving vainly to understand, Mr Hare drank his brandy and soda in +silence. Presently he walked over to the bookcases. There were two: one +was filled with learned-looking volumes bearing the names of Latin +authors; and the parson, who prided himself on his Latinity, was +surprised, and a little nettled, to find so much ignorance proved upon +him. With Tertullian, St Jerome, and St Augustine he was of course +acquainted, but of Lactantius, Prudentius, Sedulius, St Fortunatus, Duns +Scotus, Hibernicus exul, Angilbert, Milo, &c., he was obliged to admit +he knew nothing--even the names were unknown to him. + +In the bookcase on the opposite side of the room there were complete +editions of Landor and Swift, then came two large volumes on Leonardo da +Vinci. Raising his eyes, the parson read through the titles of Mr +Browning's work. Tennyson was in a cheap seven-and-six edition; then +came Swinburne, Pater, Rossetti, Morris, two novels by Rhoda Broughton, +Dickens, Thackeray, Fielding, and Smollett; the complete works of +Balzac, Gautier's Emaux et Camees, Salammbo, L'Assommoir; add to this +Carlyle, Byron, Shelley, Keats, &c. + +At the end of a long silence, Mr Hare said, glancing once again at the +Latin authors, and walking towards the fire: + +"Tell me, John, are those the books you are writing about? Supposing you +explain to me in a few words the line you are taking. Your mother tells +me that you intend to call your book the History of Christian Latin." + +"Yes, I had thought of using that title, but I am afraid it is a little +too ambitious. To write the history of a literature extending over at +least eight centuries would entail an appalling amount of reading; and +besides only a few, say a couple of dozen writers out of some hundreds, +are of the slightest literary interest, and very few indeed of any real +aesthetic value. I have been hard at work lately, and I think I know +enough of the literature of the Middle Ages to enable me to make a +selection that will comprise everything of interest to ordinary +scholarship, and enough to form a sound basis to rest my own literary +theories upon. I begin by stating that there existed in the Middle Ages +a universal language such as Goethe predicted the future would again +bring to us.... + +"Before the formation of the limbs, that is to say before the German and +Roman languages were developed up to the point of literary usage, the +Latin language was the language of all nations of the western world. +But the day came, in some countries a little earlier, in some a little +later, when it was replaced by the national idioms. The different +literatures of the West had therefore been preceded by a Latin +literature that had for a long time held out a supporting hand to each. +The language of this literature was not a dead language, It was the +language of government, of science, of religion; and a little +dislocated, a little barbarised, it had penetrated to the minds of the +people, and found expression in drinking songs and street ditties. + +"Such is the theme of my book; and it seems to me that a language that +has played so important a part in the world's history is well worthy of +serious study. + +"I show how Christianity, coming as it did with a new philosophy, and a +new motive for life, invigorated and saved the Latin language in a time +of decline and decrepitude. For centuries it had given expression, even +to satiety, to a naive joy in the present; on this theme, all that +could be said had been said, all that could be sung had been sung, +and the Rhetoricians were at work with alliteration and refrain when +Christianity came, and impetuously forced the language to speak the +desire of the soul. In a word, I want to trace the effect that such a +radical alteration in the music, if I may so speak, had upon the +instrument--the Latin language." + +"And with whom do you begin?" + +"With Tertullian, of course." + +"And what do you think of him?" + +"Tertullian, one of the most fascinating characters of ancient or modern +times. In my study of his writings I have worked out a psychological +study of the man himself as revealed through them. His realism, I might +say materialism, is entirely foreign to my own nature, but I cannot +help being attracted by that wild African spirit, so full of savage +contradictions, so full of energy that it never knew repose: in him you +find all the imperialism of ancient times. When you consider that he +lived in a time when the church was struggling for utterance amid the +horrors of persecution, his mad Christianity becomes singularly +attractive; a passionate fear of beauty for reason of its temptations, a +fear that turned to hatred, and forced him at last into the belief that +Christ was an ugly man." + +"I know nothing of the monks of the eighth century and their poetry, +but I do know something of Tertullian, and you mean to tell me that +you admire his style--those harsh chopped-up phrases and strained +antitheses." + +"I should think I did. Phrases set boldly one against the other; quaint, +curious, and full of colour, the reader supplies with delight the +connecting link, though the passion and the force of the description +lives and reels along. Listen: + +"'Quae tunc spectaculi latitudo! quid admirer? quid rideam? ubi gaudeam? +ubi exultem, spectans tot ac tantos reges, qui in coelum recepti +nuntiabantur, cum ipso Jove et ipsis suis testibus in imis tenebris +congemiscentes!--Tunc magis tragoedi audiendi, magis scilicet vocales in +sua propria calamitate; tunc histriones cognoscendi, solutiores multo +per ignem; tunc spectandus auriga, in flammea rota totus rubens, &c.' + +"Show me a passage in Livy equal to that for sheer force and glittering +colour. The phrases are not all dove-tailed one into the other and +smoothed away; they stand out." + +"Indeed they do. And whom do you speak of next?" + +"I pass on to St Cyprian and Lactantius; to the latter I attribute the +beautiful poem of the Phoenix." + +"What! Claudian's poem?" + +"No, but one infinitely superior. After Lactantius comes St Ambrose, St +Jerome, and St Augustine. The second does not interest me, and my notice +of him is brief; but I make special studies of the first and last. It +was St Ambrose who introduced singing into the Catholic service. He took +the idea from the Arians. He saw the effect it had upon the vulgar mind, +and he resolved to combat the heresy with its own weapons. He composed a +vast number of hymns. Only four have come down to us, and they are as +perfect in form as in matter. You will scarcely find anywhere a false +quantity or a hiatus. The Ambrosian hymns remained the type of all the +hymnic poetry of succeeding centuries. Even Prudentius, great poet as he +was, was manifestly influenced in the choice of metre and the +composition of the strophe by the Deus Creator omnium.... + +"St Ambrose did more than any other writer of his time to establish +certain latent tendencies as characteristics of the Catholic spirit. +His pleading in favour of ascetic life and of virginity, that entirely +Christian virtue, was very influential. He lauds the virgin above the +wife, and, indeed, he goes so far as to tell parents that they can +obtain pardon of their sins by offering their daughters to God. His +teaching in this respect was productive of very serious rebellion +against what some are pleased to term the laws of Nature. But St Ambrose +did not hesitate to uphold the repugnance of girls to marriage as not +only lawful but praiseworthy." + +"I am afraid you let your thoughts dwell very much on such subjects." + +"Really, do you think I do?" John's eyes brightened for a moment, and he +lapsed into what seemed an examination of conscience. Then he said, +somewhat abruptly, "St Jerome I speak of, or rather I allude to him, and +pass on at once to the study of St Augustine--the great prose writer, as +Prudentius was the great poet, of the Middle Ages. + +"Now, talking of style, I will admit that the eternal apostrophising of +God and the incessant quoting from the New Testament is tiresome to the +last degree, and seriously prejudices the value of the 'Confessions' as +considered from the artistic standpoint. But when he bemoans the loss of +the friend of his youth, when he tells of his resolution to embrace an +ascetic life, he is nervously animated, and is as psychologically +dramatic as Balzac." + +"I have taken great pains with my study of St Augustine, because in him +the special genius of Christianity for the first time found a voice. All +that had gone before was a scanty flowerage--he was the perfect fruit. I +am speaking from a purely artistic standpoint: all that could be done +for the life of the senses had been done, but heretofore the life of the +soul had been lived in silence--none had come to speak of its suffering, +its uses, its tribulation. In the time of Horace it was enough to sit in +Lalage's bower and weave roses; of the communion of souls none had ever +thought. Let us speak of the soul! This is the great dividing line +between the pagan and Christian world, and St Augustine is the great +landmark. In literature he discovered that man had a soul, and that man +had grown interested in its story, had grown tired of the exquisite +externality of the nymph-haunted forest and the waves where the Triton +blows his plaintive blast. + +"The whole theory and practice of modern literature is found in the +'Confessions of St Augustine;' and from hence flows the great current of +psychological analysis which, with the development of the modern novel, +grows daily greater in volume and more penetrating in essence.... Is not +the fretful desire of the Balzac novel to tell of the soul's anguish an +obvious development of the 'Confessions'?" + +"In like manner I trace the origin of the ballad, most particularly the +English ballad, to Prudentius, a contemporary of Claudian." + +"You don't mean to say that you trace back our north-country ballads +to, what do you call him?" + +"Prudentius. I show that there is much in his hymns that recalls the +English ballads." + +"In his hymns?" + +"Yes; in the poems that come under such denomination. I confess it is +not a little puzzling to find a narrative poem of some five hundred +lines or more included under the heading of hymns; it would seem that +nearly all lyric poetry of an essentially Christian character was so +designated, to separate it from secular or pagan poetry. In Prudentius' +first published work, 'Liber Cathemerinon,' we find hymns composed +absolutely after the manner of St Ambrose, in the same or in similar +metres, but with this difference, the hymns of Prudentius are three, +four, and sometimes seven times longer than those of St Ambrose. The +Spanish poet did not consider, or he lost sight of, the practical usages +of poetry. He sang more from an artistic than a religious impulse. That +he delighted in the song for the song's own sake is manifest; and this +is shown in the variety of his treatment, and the delicate sense of +music which determined his choice of metre. His descriptive writing is +full of picturesque expression. The fifth hymn, 'Ad Incensum Lucernae,' +is glorious with passionate colour and felicitous cadence, be he +describing with precious solicitude for Christian archaeology the +different means of artistic lighting, flambeaux, candles, lamps, or +dreaming with all the rapture of a southern dream of the balmy garden +of Paradise. + +"But his best book to my thinking is by far, 'Peristephanon,' that is +to say, the hymns celebrating the glory of the martyrs. + +"I was saying just now that the hymns of Prudentius, by the dramatic +rapidity of the narrative, by the composition of the strophe, and by +their wit, remind me very forcibly of our English ballads. Let us take +the story of St Laurence, written in iambics, in verses of four lines +each. In the time of the persecutions of Valerian, the Roman prefect, +devoured by greed, summoned St Laurence, the treasurer of the church, +before him, and on the plea that parents were making away with their +fortunes to the detriment of their children, demanded that the sacred +vessels should be given up to him. 'Upon all coins is found the head of +the Emperor and not that of Christ, therefore obey the order of the +latter, and give to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor.' + +"To this speech, peppered with irony and sarcasm, St Laurence replies +that the church is very rich, even richer than the Emperor, and that he +will have much pleasure in offering its wealth to the prefect, and he +asks for three days to classify the treasures. Transported with joy, the +prefect grants the required delay. Laurence collects the infirm who have +been receiving charity from the church; and in picturesque grouping the +poet shows us the blind, the paralytic, the lame, the lepers, advancing +with trembling and hesitating steps. Those are the treasures, the +golden vases and so forth, that the saint has catalogued and is going to +exhibit to the prefect, who is waiting in the sanctuary. The prefect is +dumb with rage; the saint observes that gold is found in dross; that the +disease of the body is to be less feared than that of the soul; and he +developes this idea with a good deal of wit. The boasters suffer from +dropsy, the miser from cramp in the wrist, the ambitious from febrile +heat, the gossipers, who delight in tale-bearing, from the itch; but +you, he says, addressing the prefect, you who govern Rome,[1] suffer +from the _morbus regius_ (you see the pun). In revenge for thus +slighting his dignity, the prefect condemns St Laurence to be roasted on +a slow fire, adding, 'and deny there, if you will, the existence of my +Vulcan.' Even on the gridiron Laurence does not lose his good humour, +and he gets himself turned as a cook would a chop. + +"Now, do you not understand what I mean when I say that the hymns of +Prudentius are an anticipation of the form of the English ballad?... And +in the fifth hymn the story of St Vincent is given with that peculiar +dramatic terseness that you find nowhere except in the English ballad. +But the most beautiful poem of all is certainly the fourteenth and last +hymn. In a hundred and thirty-three hendecasyllabic verses the story of +a young virgin condemned to a house of ill-fame is sung with exquisite +sense of grace and melody. She is exposed naked at the corner of a +street. The crowd piously turns away; only one young man looks upon her +with lust in his heart. He is instantly struck blind by lightning, but +at the request of the virgin his sight is restored to him. Then follows +the account of how she suffered martyrdom by the sword--a martyrdom +which the girl salutes with a transport of joy. The poet describes her +ascending to Heaven, and casting one last look upon this miserable +earth, whose miseries seem without end, and whose joys are of such short +duration. + +"Then his great poem 'Psychomachia' is the first example in mediaeval +literature of allegorical poetry, the most Christian of all forms of +art. + +"Faith, her shoulders bare, her hair free, advances, eager for the +fight. The 'cult of the ancient gods,' with forehead chapleted after the +fashion of the pagan priests, dares to attack her, and is overthrown. +The legion of martyrs that Faith has called together cry in triumphant +unison.... Modesty (Pudicitia), a young virgin with brilliant arms, is +attacked by 'the most horrible of the Furies' (Sodomita Libido), who, +with a torch burning with pitch and sulphur, seeks to strike her eyes, +but Modesty disarms him and pierces him with her sword. 'Since the +Virgin without stain gave birth to the Man-God, Lust is without rights +in the world.' Patience watches the fight; she is presently attacked +by Anger, first with violent words, and then with darts, which fall +harmlessly from her armour. Accompanied by Job, Patience retires +triumphant. But at that moment, mounted on a wild and unbridled steed, +and covered with a lionskin, Pride (Superbia), her hair built up like a +tower, menaces Humility (Mens humilis). Under the banner of Humility are +ranged Justice, Frugality, Modesty, pale of face, and likewise +Simplicity. Pride mocks at this miserable army, and would crush it under +the feet of her steed. But she falls in a ditch dug by Fraud. Humility +hesitates to take advantage of her victory; but Hope draws her sword, +cuts off the head of the enemy, and flies away on golden wings to +Heaven. + +"Then Lust (Luxuria), the new enemy, appears. She comes from the extreme +East, this wild dancer, with odorous hair, provocative glance and +effeminate voice; she stands in a magnificent chariot drawn by four +horses; she scatters violet and rose leaves; they are her weapons; their +insidious perfumes destroy courage and will, and the army, headed by the +virtues, speaks of surrender. But suddenly Sobriety (Sobrietas) lifts +the standard of the Cross towards the sky. Lust falls from her chariot, +and Sobriety fells her with a stone. Then all her saturnalian army is +scattered. Love casts away his quiver. Pomp strips herself of her +garments, and Voluptuousness (Voluptas) fears not to tread upon thorns, +&c. But Avarice disguises herself in the mask of Economy, and succeeds +in deceiving all hearts until she is overthrown finally by Mercy +(Operatica). All sorts of things happen, but eventually the poem winds +up with a prayer to Christ, in which we learn that the soul shall fall +again and again in the battle, and that this shall continue until the +coming of Christ." + +"'Tis very curious, very curious indeed. I know nothing of this +literature." + +"Very few do." + +"And you have, I suppose, translated some of these poems?" + +"I give a complete translation of the second hymn, the story of St +Laurence, and I give long extracts from the poem we have been speaking +about, and likewise from 'Hamartigenia,' which, by the way, some +consider as his greatest work. And I show more completely, I think, than +any other commentator, the analogy between it and the 'Divine Comedy,' +and how much Dante owed to it.... Then the 'terza rima' was undoubtedly +borrowed from the fourth hymn of the 'Cathemerinon.'"... + +"You said, I think, that Prudentius was a contemporary of Claudian. +Which do you think the greater poet?" + +"Prudentius by far. Claudian's Latin was no doubt purer and his verse +was better, that is to say, from the classical standpoint it was more +correct." + +"Is there any other standpoint?" + +"Of course. There is pagan Latin and Christian Latin: Burns' poems are +beautiful, and they are not written in Southern English; Chaucer's +verse is exquisitely melodious, although it will not scan to modern +pronunciation. In the earliest Christian poetry there is a tendency to +write by accent rather than by quantity, but that does not say that +the hymns have not a quaint Gothic music of their own. This is very +noticeable in Sedulius, a poet of the fifth century. His hymn to Christ +is not only full of assonance, but of all kinds of rhyme and even +double rhymes. We find the same thing in Sedonius, and likewise in +Fortunatus--a gay prelate, the morality of whose life is, I am afraid, +open to doubt... + +"He had all the qualities of a great poet, but he wasted his genius +writing love verses to Radegonde. The story is a curious one. Radegonde +was the daughter of the King of Thuringia; she was made prisoner by +Clotaire I., son of Clovis, who forced her to become his wife. On the +murder of her father by her husband, she fled and founded a convent at +Poictiers. There she met Fortunatus, who, it appears, loved her. It is +of course humanly possible that their love was not a guilty one, but it +is certain that the poet wasted the greater part of his life writing +verses to her and her adopted daughter Agnes. In a beautiful poem in +praise of virginity, composed in honour of Agnes, he speaks in a very +disgusting way of the love with which nuns regard our Redeemer, and the +recompence that awaits them in Heaven for their chastity. If it had not +been for the great interest attaching to his verse as an example of the +radical alteration that had been effected in the language, I do not +think I should have spoken of this poet. Up to his time rhyme had +slipped only occasionally into the verse, it had been noticed and had +been allowed to remain by poets too idle to remove it, a strange +something not quite understood, and yet not a wholly unwelcome intruder; +but in St Fortunatus we find for the first time rhyme cognate with the +metre, and used with certainty and brilliancy. In the opening lines of +the hymn, 'Vexilla Regis,' rhyme is used with superb effect.... + +"But for signs of the approaching dissolution of the language, of its +absorption by the national idiom, we must turn to St Gregory of Tours. +He was a man of defective education, and the _lingua rustica_ of France +as it was spoken by the people makes itself felt throughout his +writings. His use of _iscere_ for _escere_, of the accusative for the +ablative, one of St Gregory's favourite forms of speech, _pro or quod_ +for _quoniam_, conformable to old French _porceque_, so common for +_parceque_. And while national idiom was oozing through grammatical +construction, national forms of verse were replacing the classical +metres which, so far as syllables were concerned, had hitherto been +adhered to. As we advance into the sixth and seventh centuries, we find +English monks attempting to reproduce the characteristics of Anglo-Saxon +alliterative verse in Latin; and at the Court of Charlemagne we find an +Irish monk writing Latin verse in a long trochaic line, which is native +in Irish poetry. + +"Poets were plentiful at the court of Charlemagne. Now, Angilbert was a +poet of exquisite grace, and surprisingly modern is his music, which is +indeed a wonderful anticipation of the lilt of Edgar Poe. I compare it +to Poe. Just listen:-- + + "'Surge meo Domno dulces fac, fistula versus: + David amat versus, surge et fac fistula versus. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David + Qua propter vates cuncti concurrite in unum + Atque meo David dulces cantate camoenas. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David. + Dulcis amor David inspirat corda canentum, + Cordibus in nostris faciat amor ipsius odas: + Vates Homerus amat David, fac, fistula, versus. + David amat vates, vatorum est gloria David.'" + +"I should have flogged that monk--'ipsius,' oh, oh!--'vatorum.'... It +really is too terrible." + +John laughed, and was about to reply, when the clanging of the college +bell was heard. + +"I am afraid that is dinner-time." + +"Afraid, I am delighted; you don't suppose that every one can live, +chameleon-like, on air, or worse still, on false quantities. Ha, ha, ha! +And those pictures too. That snow is more violet than white." + +When dinner was over, John and Mr Hare walked out on the terrace. The +carriage waited in the wet in front of the great oak portal; the grey, +stormy evening descended on the high roofs, smearing the red out of the +walls and buttresses, and melancholy and tall the red college seemed +amid its dwarf plantation, now filled with night wind and drifting +leaves. Shadow and mist had floated out of the shallows above the crests +of the valley, and the lamps of the farm-houses gleamed into a pale +existence. + +"And now tell me what I am to say to your mother. Will you come home for +Christmas?" + +"I suppose I must. I suppose it would seem so unkind if I didn't. I +cannot account even to myself for my dislike to the place. I cannot +think of it without a revulsion of feeling that is strangely personal." + +"I won't argue that point with you, but I think you ought to come home." + +"Why? Why ought I to come to Sussex, and marry my neighbour's daughter?" + +"There is no reason that you should marry your neighbour's daughter, +but I take it that you do not propose to pass your life here." + +"For the present I am concerned mainly with the problem of how I may +make advances, how I may meet life, as it were, half-way; for if +possible I would not quite lose touch of the world. I would love to live +in its shadow, a spectator whose duty it is to watch and encourage, and +pity the hurrying throng on the stage. The church would approve this +attitude, whereas hate and loathing of humanity are not to be justified. +But I can do nothing to hurry the state of feeling I desire, except of +course to pray. I have passed through some terrible moments of despair +and gloom, but these are now wearing themselves away, and I am feeling +more at rest." + +Then, as if from a sudden fear of ridicule, John said, laughing: +"Besides, looking at the question from a purely practical side, it must +be hardly wise for me to return to society for the present. I like +neither fox-hunting, marriage, Robert Louis Stevenson's stories, nor Sir +Frederick Leighton's pictures; I prefer monkish Latin to Virgil, and I +adore Degas, Monet, Manet, and Renoir, and since this is so, and alas, I +am afraid irrevocably so, do you not think that I should do well to keep +outside a world in which I should be the only wrong and vicious being? +Why spoil that charming thing called society by my unlovely presence? + +"Selfishness! I know what you are going to say--here is my answer. I +assure you I administer to the best of my ability the fortune God gave +me--I spare myself no trouble. I know the financial position of every +farmer on my estate, the property does not owe fifty pounds;--I keep the +tenants up to the mark; I do not approve of waste and idleness, but when +a little help is wanted I am ready to give it. And then, well, I don't +mind telling you, but it must not go any further. I have made a will +leaving something to all my tenants; I give away a fixed amount in +charity yearly." + +"I know, my dear John, I know your life is not a dissolute one; but your +mother is very anxious, remember you are the last. Is there no chance +of your ever marrying?" + +"I don't think I could live with a woman; there is something very +degrading, something very gross in such relations. There is a better and +a purer life to lead ... an inner life, coloured and permeated with +feelings and tones that are, oh, how intensely our own, and he who may +have this life, shrinks from any adventitious presence that might jar or +destroy it. To keep oneself unspotted, to feel conscious of no sense of +stain, to know, yes, to hear the heart repeat that this self--hands, +face, mouth and skin--is free from all befouling touch, is all one's +own. I have always been strongly attracted to the colour white, and I +can so well and so acutely understand the legend that tells that the +ermine dies of gentle loathing of its own self, should a stain come upon +its immaculate fur.... I should not say a legend, for that implies that +the story is untrue, and it is not untrue--so beautiful a thought could +not be untrue." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Qui Romam regis.] + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"Urns on corner walls, pilasters, circular windows, flowerage and +loggia. What horrible taste, and quite out of keeping with the +landscape!" He rang the bell. + +"How do you do, Master John!" cried the tottering old butler who had +known him since babyhood. "Very glad, indeed, we all are to see you home +again, sir!" + +Neither the appellation of Master John, nor the sight of the four +paintings, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, which decorated the walls +of the passage, found favour with John, and the effusiveness of Mrs +Norton, who rushed out of the drawing-room, followed by Kitty, and +embraced her son, at once set on edge all his curious antipathies. Why +this kissing, this approachment of flesh? Of course she was his +mother.... Then this smiling girl in the background! He would have to +amuse her and talk to her; what infinite boredom it would be! He trusted +fervently that her visit would not be a long one. + +Then through what seemed to him the pollution of triumph, he was led +into the library; and he noticed, notwithstanding the presiding busts of +Shakespeare and Milton, that there was but one wretched stand full of +books in the room, and that in the gloom of a far corner. His mother sat +down, and there was a resoluteness in her look and attitude that seemed +to proclaim, "Now I hold you captive;" but she said: + +"I was very much alarmed, my dear John, about your not sleeping. Mr Hare +told me you said that you went two and three nights without closing your +eyes, and that you had to have recourse to sleeping draughts." + +"Not at all, mother, I never took a sleeping draught but twice in my +life." + +"Well, you don't sleep well, and I am sure it is those college beds. +But you will be far more comfortable here. You are in the best bedroom +in the house, the one in front of the staircase, the bridal chamber; and +I have selected the largest and softest feather-bed in the house." + +"My dear mother, if there is one thing more than another I dislike, it +is a feather-bed. I should not be able to close my eyes; I beg of you to +have it taken away." + +Mrs Norton's face flushed. "I cannot understand, John; it is absurd to +say that you cannot sleep on a feather-bed. Mr Hare told me you +complained of insomnia, and there is no surer way of losing your health. +It is owing to the hardness of those college mattresses, whereas in a +feather-bed--" + +"There is no use in our arguing that point, mother, I say I cannot sleep +on a feather-bed...." + +"But you have not tried one; I don't believe you ever slept on a +feather-bed in your life." + +"Well, I am not going to begin now." + +"We haven't another bed aired in the house, and it is really too late +to ask the servants to change your room." + +"Well, then, I shall be obliged to sleep at the hotel in Henfield." + +"You should not speak to your mother in that way; I will not have it." + +"There! you see we are quarrelling already; I did wrong to come home." + +"I am speaking to you for your own good, my dear John, and I think it is +very stubborn of you to refuse to sleep on a feather-bed; if you don't +like it, you can change it to-morrow." + +The conversation fell, and in silence the speakers strove to master +their irritation. Then John, for politeness' sake, spoke of when he had +last seen Kitty. It was about five years ago. She had ridden her pony +over to see them. + +Mrs Norton talked of some people who had left the county, of a marriage, +of an engagement, of a mooted engagement; and she jerked in a +suggestion that if John were to apply at once, he would be placed +on the list of deputy-lieutenants. Enumeration of the family +influence--Lord So-and-so, the cousin, was the Lord Lieutenant's most +intimate friend. + +"You are not even a J.P., but there will be no difficulty about that; +and you have not seen any of the county people for years. We will have +the carriage out some day this week, and we'll pay a round of visits." + +"We'll do nothing of the kind. I have no time for visiting; I must get +on with my book. I hope to finish my study of St Augustine before I +leave here. I have my books to unpack, and a great deal of reading to +get through. I have done no more than glance at the Anglo-Latin. +Literature died in France with Gregory of Tours at the end of the sixth +century; with St Gregory the Great, in Italy, at the commencement of the +seventh century; in Spain about the same time. And then the Anglo-Saxons +became the representatives of the universal literature. All this is +most important. I must re-read St Aldhelm and the Venerable Bede.... +Now, I ask, do you expect me--me, with my head full of Aldhelm's +alliterative verses-- + + "'Turbo terram teretibus + Quae catervatim coelitus + Neque coelorum culmina + ...... + ...... + Grassabatur turbinibus + Crebrantur nigris nubibus + Carent nocturna nebula--' + +"a letter descriptive of a great storm which he was caught in as he was +returning home one night...." + +"Now, sir, we have had quite enough of that, and I would advise you not +to go on with any of that nonsense here; you will be turned into +dreadful ridicule." + +"That's just why I wish to avoid them ... but you have no pity for me. +Just fancy my having to listen to them! How I have suffered.... What is +the use of growing wheat when we are only getting eight pounds ten a +load?... But we must grow something, and there is nothing else but +wheat. We must procure a certain amount of straw, or we'd have no +manure, and you can't work a farm without manure. I don't believe in the +fish manure. But there is market gardening, and if we kept shops in +Brighton, we could grow our own stuff and sell it at retail price.... +And then there is a great deal to be done with flowers." + +"Now, sir, that will do, that will do.... How dare you speak to me so! I +will not allow it." And then relapsing into an angry silence, Mrs Norton +drew her shawl about her shoulders. + +One of a thousand quarrels. The basis of each nature was common +sense--shrewd common sense--but such similarity of structure is in +itself apt to lead to much violent shocking of opinion; and to this end +an adjuvant was found in the dose of fantasy, mysticism, idealism which +was inherent in John's character. "Why is he not like other people? Why +will he waste his time with a lot of rubbishy Latin authors? Why will he +not take up his position in the county?" Mrs Norton asked herself these +questions as she fumed on the sofa. + +"I wonder why she will continue to try to impose her will upon mine. I +wonder why she has not found out by this time the uselessness of her +effort. But no; she still keeps on hoping at last to wear me down. She +wants me to live the life she has marked out for me to live--to take up +my position in the county, and, above all, to marry and give an heir to +the property. I see it all; that is why she wanted me to spend Christmas +with her; that is why she has Kitty Hare here to meet me. How cunning, +how mean women are: a man would not do that. Had I known it.... I have a +mind to leave to-morrow. I wonder if the girl is in the little +conspiracy." And turning his head he looked at her. + +Tall and slight, a grey dress, pale as the wet sky, fell from her waist +outward in the manner of a child's frock, and there was a lightness, +there was brightness in the clear eyes. The intense youth of her heart +was evanescent; it seemed constantly rising upwards like the breath of +a spring morning--a morning when the birds are trilling. The face +sharpened to a tiny chin, and the face was pale, although there was +bloom on the cheeks. The forehead was shadowed by a sparkling cloud of +brown hair, the nose was straight, and each little nostril was pink +tinted. The ears were like shells. There was a rigidity in her attitude. +She laughed abruptly, perhaps a little nervously, and the abrupt laugh +revealed the line of tiny white teeth. Thin arms fell straight to the +translucent hands, and there was a recollection of puritan England in +look and in gesture. + +Her picturesqueness calmed John's ebullient discontent; he decided that +she knew nothing of, and was not an accomplice in, his mother's scheme: +For the sake of his guest he strove to make himself agreeable during +dinner, but it was clear that he missed the hierarchy of the college +table. The conversation fell repeatedly. Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke of +making syrup for the bees; and their discussion of the illness of poor +Dr ----, who would no longer be able to get through the work of the +parish single-handed, and would require a curate, was continued till the +ladies rose from table. Nor did matters mend in the library. John's +thoughts went back to his book; the room seemed to him intolerably +uncomfortable and ugly. He went to the billiard-room to smoke a cigar. +It was not clear to him if he would be able to spend two months in this +odious place. He might offer them to God as penance for his sins; if +every evening passed like the present, it were a modern martyrdom. +But had they removed that horrid feather-bed? He went upstairs. The +feather-bed had been removed. + +The room was large and ample, and it was draped with many curtains--pale +curtains covered with walking birds and falling petals, a sort of Indian +pattern. There was a sofa at the foot of the bed, and the toilette-table +hung out its skirts in the wavering light of the fire. John tossed to +and fro staring at the birds and petals. He thought of his ascetic +college bed, of the great Christ upon the wall, of the prie-dieu with +the great rosary hanging, but in vain; he could not rid his mind of the +distasteful feminine influences which had filled the day, and which now +haunted the night. + +After breakfast next morning Mrs Norton stopped John as he was going +upstairs to unpack his books. "Now," she said, "you must go out for a +walk with Kitty Hare, and I hope you will make yourself agreeable. I +want you to see the new greenhouse I have put up; she'll show it to you. +And I told the bailiff to meet you in the yard. I thought you might like +to see him." + +"I wish, mother, you would not interfere in my business; had I wanted to +see Burnes I should have sent for him." + +"If you don't want to see him, he wants to see you. There are some +cottages on the farm that must be put into repair at once. As for +interfering in your business, I don't know how you can talk like that; +were it not for me the whole place would be falling to pieces." + +"Quite true; I know you save me a great deal of expense; but really ..." + +"Really what? You won't go out to walk with Kitty Hare?" + +"I did not say I wouldn't, but I must say that I am very busy just now. +I had thought of doing a little reading, for I have an appointment with +my solicitor in the afternoon." + +"That man charges you L200 a-year for collecting the rents; now, if you +were to do it yourself, you would save the money, and it would give you +something to do." + +"Something to do! I have too much to do as it is.... But if I am going +out with Kitty.... Where is she?" + +"I saw her go into the library a moment ago." + +And as it was preferable to go for a walk with Kitty than to continue +the interview with his mother, John seized his hat and called Kitty, +Kitty, Kitty! Presently she appeared, and they walked towards the +garden, talking. She told him she had been at Thornby Place the whole +time the greenhouse was being built, and when they opened the door they +were greeted by Sammy. He sprang instantly on her shoulder. + +"This is my cat," she said. "I've fed him since he was a little kitten; +isn't he sweet?" + +The girl was beautiful on the brilliant flower background; she stroked +the great caressing creature, and when she put him down he mewed +reproachfully. Further on her two tame rooks cawed joyously, and +alighted on her shoulder. + +"I wonder they don't fly away, and join the others in the trees." + +"One did go away, and he came back nearly dead with hunger. But he is +all right now, aren't you, dear?" And the bird cawed, and rubbed its +black head against its mistress' cheek. "Poor little things, they fell +out of the nest before they could fly, and I brought them up. But you +don't care for pets, do you, John?" + +"I don't like birds!" + +"Don't like birds! Why, that seems as strange as if you said that you +didn't like flowers." + +"Mrs Norton told me, sir, that you would like to speak to me about them +cottages on the Erringham Farm," said the bailiff. + +"Yes, yes, I must go over and see them to-morrow morning at ten o'clock. +I intend to go thoroughly into everything. How are they getting on with +the cottages that were burnt down?" + +"Rather slow, sir, the weather is so bad." + +"But talking of fire, Burnes, I find that I can insure at a much cheaper +rate at Lloyds' than at most of the offices. I find that I shall make a +saving of L20 a-year." + +"That's worth thinking about, sir." + +While the young squire talked to his bailiff Kitty fed her rooks. They +cawed, and flew to her hand for the scraps of meat. The coachman came +to speak about oats and straw. They went to the stables. Kitty adored +horses, it amused John to see her pat them, and her vivacity and +light-heartedness rather pleased him than otherwise. + +Nevertheless, during the whole of the following week the ladies held +little communication with John. He lived apart from them. In the +mornings he went out with his bailiffs to inspect farms and consult +about possible improvement and necessary repairs. He had appointments +with his solicitor. There were accounts to be gone through. He never +paid a bill without verifying every item. It was difficult to say what +should be done with a farm for which a tenant could not be found even +at a reduced rent. At four o'clock he came into tea, his head full of +calculations of such a complex character that even his mother could not +follow the different statements to his satisfaction. When she disagreed +with him, he took up the "Epistles of St Columban of Bangor," the +"Epistola ad Sethum," or the celebrated poem, "Epistola ad Fedolium," +written when the saint was seventy-two, and continued his reading, +making copious notes in a pocket-book. To do so he drew his chair close +to the library fire, and when Kitty came quickly into the room with a +flutter of skirts and a sound of laughter, he awoke from contemplation, +and her singing as she ascended the stairs jarred the dreams of cloister +and choir which mounted from the pages to his brain in clear and +intoxicating rhapsody. + +On the third of November Mrs Norton announced that the meet of the +hounds had been fixed for the fifteenth, and that there would be a hunt +breakfast. + +"Oh, my dear mother! you don't mean that they are coming here to lunch!" + +"For the last twenty years all our side of the county has been in the +habit of coming here to lunch, but of course you can shut your doors to +all your friends and acquaintances. No doubt they will think you have +come down here on purpose to insult them." + +"Insult them! why should I insult them? I haven't seen them since I was +a boy. I remember that the hunt breakfast used to go on all day long. +Every woman in the county used to come, and they used to stay to tea, +and you used to insist on a great number remaining to supper." + +"Well, you can put a stop to all that now that you have consented to +come to Thornby Place, only I hope you don't expect me to remain here to +see my friends insulted." + +"But just think of the expense! and in these bad times. You know I +cannot find a tenant for the Woreington farm. I am afraid I shall have +to provide the capital and farm it myself. Now, in the face of such +losses, don't you think that we should retrench?" + +"Retrench! A few fowls and rounds of beef! You don't think of retrenching +when you present Stanton College with a stained glass window that costs +five hundred pounds." + +"Of course, if you like it, mother..." + +"I like nothing but what you like, but I really think that for you to +put down the hunt breakfast the first time you honour us with a visit, +would look very much as if you intended to insult the whole county." + +"It will be a day of misery for me!" replied John, laughing; "but I +daresay I shall live through it." + +"I think you will like it very much," said Kitty. "There will be a lot +of pretty girls here: the Misses Green are coming from Worthing; the +eldest is such a pretty girl, you are sure to admire her. And the hounds +and horses look so beautiful." + +Mrs Norton and Kitty spoke daily of invitations, and later on of cooking +and the various things that were wanted. John continued to go through +his accounts in the morning, and to read monkish Latin in the evening; +but he was secretly nervous, and he dreaded the approaching day. + +He was called an hour earlier--eight o'clock; he drank a cup of cold tea +and ate a piece of dry toast in a back room. The dining-room was full +of servants, who laid out a long table rich with comestibles and +glittering with glass. Mrs Norton and Kitty were upstairs dressing. + +He wandered into the drawing-room and viewed the dead, cumbrous +furniture; the two cabinets bright with brass and veneer. He stood at +the window staring. It was raining. The yellow of the falling leaves was +hidden in the grey mist. It ceased to rain. "This weather will keep many +away; so much the better; there will be too many as it is. I wonder who +this can be." A melancholy brougham passed up the drive. There were +three old maids, all looking sweetly alike; one was a cripple who walked +with crutches, and her smile was the best and the gayest imaginable +smile. + +"How little material welfare has to do with our happiness," thought +John. "There is one whose path is the narrowest, and she is happier and +better than I." And then the three sweet old maids talked with their +cousin of the weather; and they all wondered--a sweet feminine +wonderment--if he would see a girl that day whom he would marry. + +Presently the house was full of people. The passage was full of girls; a +few men sat at breakfast at the end of the long table. Some red coats +passed across the green glare of the park, and the hounds trotted about +a single horseman. Voices. "Oh! how sweet they look! oh, the dear dogs!" +The huntsman stopped in front of the house, the hounds sniffed here +and there, the whips trotted their horses and drove them back. "Get +together, get together; get back there; Woodland, Beauty, come up here." +The hounds rolled on the grass, and leaned their fore-paws on the +railings, willing to be caressed. + +"How sweet they are, look at their soft eyes," cried an old lady whose +deity was a pug, and whose back garden reeked of the tropics. "Look how +good and kind they are; they would not hurt anything; it is only wicked +men who teach them to be ..." The old lady hesitated before the word +"bad," and murmured something about killing. + +There was a lady with melting eyes, many children, and a long sealskin, +and she availed herself of the excuse of seeing the hounds to rejoin a +young man in whom she was interested. There was an old sportsman of +seventy winters, as hale and as hearty as an oak, standing on the +door-step, and he made John promise to come over and see him. The girls +strolled about in groups. As usual young men were lacking. Looking at +his watch, the huntsman pressed the sides of his horse, and rode to draw +the covers at the end of the park. The ladies followed to see the start, +although the mud was inches deep under foot. "Hu in, hu in," cried the +huntsman. The whips trotted round cracking their long whips. Not a sound +was heard. Suddenly there was a whimper, "Hark to Woodland," cried the +huntsman. The hounds rallied to the point, but nothing came of it. +Apparently the old bitch was at fault. The huntsman muttered something +inaudible. But some few hundred yards further on, in an outlying clump +where no one would expect to find, a fox broke clean away. + +The country is as flat as a smooth sea. Chanctonbury Ring stands up like +a mighty cliff on a northern shore; its crown of trees is grim. The +abrupt ascents of Toddington Mount bear away to the left, and tide-like +the fields flow up into the great gulf between. + +"He's making for the furze, but he'll never reach them; he got no start, +and the ground is heavy." + +Then the watchers saw the horsemen making their way up the chalky roads +cut in the precipitous side of the downs. Rain began to fall, umbrellas +were put up, and all hurried home to lunch. + +"Now John, try and make yourself agreeable, go over and talk to some of +the young ladies. Why do you dress yourself in that way? Have you no +other coat? You look like a young priest. Look at that young man over +there! how nicely dressed he is! I wish you would let your moustache +grow; it would improve you immensely." With these and similar remarks +whispered to him, Mrs Norton continued to exasperate her son until the +servants announced that lunch was ready. "Take in Mrs So-and-so," she +said to John, who would fain have escaped from the melting glances of +the lady in the long sealskin. He offered her his arm with an air of +resignation, and set to work valiantly to carve a huge turkey. + +As soon as the servants had cleared away after one set another came, and +although the meet was a small one, John took six ladies in to lunch. +About half-past three the men adjourned to the billiard-room to smoke. +The girls, mighty in numbers, followed, and, with their arms round each +other's waists, and interlacing fingers, they grouped themselves about +the room. Two huntsmen returned dripping wet, and much to his annoyance, +John had to furnish them with a change of clothes. There was tea in the +drawing-room about five o'clock, and soon after the visitors began to +take their leave. + +The wind blew very coldly, the roosting rooks rose out of the branches, +and the carriages rolled into the night; but still a remnant of visitors +stood on the steps talking to John. His cold was worse; he felt very +ill, and now a long sharp pain had grown through his left side, and +momentarily it became more and more difficult to exchange polite words +and smiles. The footmen stood waiting by the open door, the horses +champed their bits, the green of the park was dark, and a group of +kissing girls moved about the loggia, wheels grated on the gravel ... +all were gone! The butler shut the door, and John went to the library +fire. + +There his mother found him. She saw that something was seriously the +matter. He was helped up to bed, and the doctor was sent for. A bad +attack of pleurisy. John was rolled up in an enormous mustard +plaster--mustard and cayenne pepper; it bit into the flesh. He roared +with pain; he was slightly delirious; he cursed those around him, using +blasphemous language. + +For more than a week he suffered. He lay bent over, unable to +straighten himself, as if a nerve had been wound up too tightly in the +left side. He was fed on gruel and beef-tea, the room was kept very +warm; it was not until the twelfth day that he was taken out of bed. + +"You have had a narrow escape," the doctor said to John, who, well +wrapped up, lay back, looking very weak and pale, before a blazing fire. +"It was very lucky I was sent for. Twenty-four hours later I would not +have answered for your life." + +"I was delirious, was I not?" + +"Yes, slightly; you cursed and swore fearfully at us when we rolled you +up in the mustard plaster.... Well, it was very hot, and must have burnt +you." + +"Yes, it was; it has scarcely left a bit of skin on me. But did I use +very bad language? I suppose I could not help it.... I was delirious, +was I not?" + +"Yes, slightly." + +"Yes; but I remember, and if I remember right, I used very bad +language; and people when they are really delirious do not know what +they say. Is not that so, doctor?" + +"If they are really delirious they do not remember, but you were only +slightly delirious ... you were maddened by the pain occasioned by the +pungency of the plaster." + +"Yes; but do you think I knew what I was saying?" + +"You must have known what you were saying, because you remember what you +said." + +"But could I be held accountable for what I said?" + +"Accountable.... Well, I hardly know what you mean. You were certainly +not in the full possession of your senses. Your mother (Mrs Norton) was +very much shocked, but I told her that you were not accountable for what +you said." + +"Then I could not be held accountable, I did not know what I was +saying." + +"I don't think you did exactly; people in a passion don't know what +they say!" + +"Ah! yes, but we are answerable for sins committed in the heat of +passion: we should restrain our passion; we were wrong in the first +instance in giving way to passion.... But I was ill, it was not exactly +passion. And I was very near death; I had a narrow escape, doctor?" + +"Yes, I think I can call it a narrow escape." + +The voices ceased,--five o'clock,--the curtains were rosy with lamp +light, and conscience awoke in the langours of convalescent hours. "I +stood on the verge of death!" The whisper died away. John was still very +weak, and he had not strength to think with much insistance, but now and +then remembrance surprised him suddenly like pain; it came unexpectedly, +he knew not whence nor how, but he could not choose but listen. Each +interval of thought grew longer; the scabs of forgetfulness were picked +away, the red sore was exposed bleeding and bare. Was he responsible +for those words? He could remember them all now; each like a burning +arrow lacerated his bosom, and he pulled them to and fro. Remembrance +in the watches of the night, dawn fills the dark spaces of a window, +meditations grow more and more lucid. He could now distinguish the +instantaneous sensation of wrong that had flashed on his excited mind in +the moment of his sinning.... Then he could think no more, and in the +twilight of contrition he dreamed vaguely of God's great goodness, of +penance, of ideal atonements. Christ hung on the cross, and far away the +darkness was seared with flames and demons. + +And as strength returned, remembrance of his blasphemies grew stronger +and fiercer, and often as he lay on his pillow, his thoughts passing in +long procession, his soul would leap into intense suffering. "I stood on +the verge of death with blasphemies on my tongue. I might have been +called to confront my Maker with horrible blasphemies in my heart and on +my tongue; but He in His Divine goodness spared me: He gave me time to +repent. Am I answerable, O my God, for those dreadful words that I +uttered against Thee, because I suffered a little pain, against Thee Who +once died on the cross to save me! O God, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy +look down on me, on me! Vouchsafe me Thy mercy, O my God, for I was +weak! My sin is loathsome; I prostrate myself before Thee, I cry aloud +for mercy!" + +Then seeing Christ amid His white million of youths, beautiful singing +saints, gold curls and gold aureoles, lifted throats, and form of harp +and dulcimer, he fell prone in great bitterness on the misery of earthly +life. His happinesses and ambitions appeared to him less than the +scattering of a little sand on the sea-shore. Joy is passion, passion +is suffering; we cannot desire what we possess, therefore desire is +rebellion prolonged indefinitely against the realities of existence; +when we attain the object of our desire, we must perforce neglect it in +favour of something still unknown, and so we progress from illusion to +illusion. The winds of folly and desolation howl about us; the sorrows +of happiness are the worst to bear, and the wise soon learn that there +is nothing to dream of but the end of desire.... God is the one ideal, +the Church the one shelter from the misery and meanness of life. Peace +is inherent in lofty arches, rapture in painted panes.... See the mitres +and crosiers, the blood-stained heavenly breasts, the loin-linen hanging +over orbs of light.... Listen! ah! the voices of chanting boys, and out +of the cloud of incense come Latin terminations, and the organ still is +swelling. + +In such religious aestheticisms the soul of John Norton had long +slumbered, but now it awoke in remorse and pain, and, repulsing its +habitual exaltations even as if they were sins, he turned to the primal +idea of the vileness of this life, and its sole utility in enabling man +to gain heaven. Beauty, what was it but temptation? He winced before a +conclusion so repugnant to him, but the terrors of the verge on which +he had so lately stood were still upon him in all their force, and he +crushed his natural feelings.... + +The manifestation of modern pessimism in John Norton has been described, +and how its influence was checked by constitutional mysticity has +also been shown. Schopenhauer, when he overstepped the line ruled by +the Church, was instantly rejected. From him John Norton's faith +had suffered nothing; the severest and most violent shocks had come +from another side--a side which none would guess, so complex and +contradictory are the involutions of the human brain. Hellenism, Greek +culture and ideal; academic groves; young disciples, Plato and Socrates, +the august nakedness of the Gods were equal, or almost equal, in his +mind with the lacerated bodies of meagre saints; and his heart wavered +between the temple of simple lines and the cathedral of a thousand +arches. Once there had been a sharp struggle, but Christ, not Apollo, +had been the victor, and the great cross in the bedroom of Stanton +College overshadowed the beautiful slim body in which Divinity seemed to +circulate like blood; and this photograph was all that now remained of +much youthful anguish and much temptation. + +A fact to note is that his sense of reality had always remained in a +rudimentary state; it was, as it were, diffused over the world and +mankind. For instance, his belief in the misery and degradation of +earthly life, and the natural bestiality of man, was incurable; but of +this or that individual he had no opinion; he was to John Norton a blank +sheet of paper, to which he could not affix even a title. His childhood +had been one of bitter tumult and passionate sorrow; the different and +dissident ideals growing up in his heart and striving for the mastery, +had torn and tortured him, and he had long lain as upon a mental rack. +Ignorance of the material laws of existence had extended even into his +sixteenth year, and when, bit by bit, the veil fell, and he understood, +he was filled with loathing of life and mad desire to wash himself +free of its stain; and it was this very hatred of natural flesh that +precipitated a perilous worship of the deified flesh of the God. But +mysticity saved him from plain paganism, and the art of the Gothic +cathedral grew dear to him. It was nearer akin to him, and he assuaged +his wounded soul in the ecstacies of incense and the great charms of +Gregorian chant. + +But fear now for the first time took possession of him, and he +realised--if not in all its truth, at least in part--that his love of +God had only taken the form of a gratification of the senses, a +sensuality higher but as intense as those which he so much reproved. +Fear smouldered in his very entrails, and doubt fumed and went out like +steam--long lines and falling shadows and slowly dispersing clouds. His +life had been but a sin, an abomination, and the fairest places darkened +as the examination of conscience proceeded. His thought whirled in +dreadful night, soul-torturing contradictions came suddenly under his +eyes, like images in a night-mare; and in horror and despair, as a woman +rising from a bed of small-pox drops the mirror after the first glance, +and shrinks from destroying the fair remembrance of her face by pursuing +the traces of the disease through every feature, he hid his face in his +hands and called for forgiveness--for escape from the endless record of +his conscience. With staring eyes and contracted brows he saw the flames +which await him who blasphemes. To the verge of those flames he had +drifted. If God in His infinite mercy had not withheld him?... He +pictured himself lost in fires and furies. Then looking up he saw the +face of Christ, grown pitiless in final time--Christ standing immutable +amid His white million of youths.... + +And the worthlessness and the abjectness of earthly life struck him with +awful and all-convincing power, and this vision of the worthlessness of +existence was clearer than any previous vision. He paused. There was but +one conclusion ... it looked down upon him like a star--he would become a +priest. All darkness, all madness, all fear faded, and with sure and +certain breath he breathed happiness; the sense of consecration nestled +in its heart, and its light shone upon his face. + +There was nothing in the past, but there is the sweetness of meditation +in the present, and in the future there is God. Like a fountain flowing +amid a summer of leaves and song, the sweet hours came with quiet and +melodious murmur. In the great arm-chair of his ancestors he sits thin +and tall. Thin and tall. The great flames decorate the darkness, and the +twilight sheds upon the rose curtains, walking birds and falling petals. +But his thoughts are dreaming through long aisle and solemn arch, clouds +of incense and painted panes.... The palms rise in great curls like the +sky; and amid the opulence of gold vestments, the whiteness of the +choir, the Latin terminations and the long abstinences, the holy oil +comes like a kiss that never dies ... and in full glory of symbol and +chant, the very savour of God descends upon him ... and then he awakes, +surprised to find such dreams out of sleep. + +His resolve did not alter; he longed for health because it would bring +the realisation of his desire, and time appeared to him cruelly long. +Nor could he think of the pain he inflicted on his mother, so centred +was he in this thought; he was blind to her sorrowing face, he was deaf +to her entreaty; he could neither feel nor see beyond the immediate +object he had in mind, and he spoke to her in despair of the length of +months that separated him from consecration; he speculated on the +possibility of expediting that happy day by a dispensation from the +Pope. The moment he could obtain permission from the doctor he ordered +his trunks to be packed, and when he bid Mrs Norton and Kitty Hare +good-bye, he exacted a promise from the former to be present at Stanton +College on Palm Sunday. He wished her to be present when he embraced +Holy Orders. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Every morning Mrs Norton flung her black shawl over her shoulders, +rattled her keys, and scolded the servants at the end of the long +passage. Kitty, as she watered the flowers in the greenhouse, often +wondered why John had chosen to become a priest and grieve his mother. +Three times out of five when the women met at lunch, Mrs Norton said: + +"Kitty, would you like to come out for a drive?" + +Kitty answered, "I don't mind; just as you like, Mrs Norton." + +After tea at five Kitty read for an hour, and in the evening she played +the piano; and she sometimes endeavoured to console her hostess by +suggesting that people did change their minds, and that John might not +become a priest after all. Mrs Norton looked at the girl, and it was +often on her lips to say, "If you had only flirted, if you had only paid +him some attentions, all might have been different." But heart-broken +though she was, Mrs Norton could not speak the words. The girl looked so +candid, so flowerlike in her guilelessness, that the thought seemed a +pollution. And in a few days Mr Hare sent for Kitty; and with her +departed the last ray of sunlight, and Thornby Place grew too sad and +solitary for Mrs Norton. + +She went to visit some friends; she spent Christmas at the Rectory; and +in the long evenings when Kitty had gone to bed, she opened her heart +to her old friend. The last hope was gone; there was nothing for her to +look for now. John did not even write to her; she had not heard from him +since he left. It was very wrong of the Jesuits to encourage him in such +conduct, and she thought of laying the whole matter before the Pope. The +order had once been suppressed; she did not remember by what Pope; but +a Pope had grown tired of their intrigues, and had suppressed the order. +She made these accusations in moments of passion, and immediately after +came deep regret.... How wrong of her to speak ill of her religion, and +to a Protestant! If John did become a priest it would be a punishment +for her sins. But what was she saying? If John became a priest, she +should thank God for His great goodness. What greater honour could he +bestow upon her? Next day she took the train to Brighton, and went to +confession; and that very same evening she pleadingly suggested to Mr +Hare that he should go to Stanton College, and endeavour to persuade +John to return home. The parson was of course obliged to decline. He +advised her to leave the matter in the hands of God, and Mrs Norton went +to bed a prey to scruples of conscience of all kinds. + +She even began to think it wrong to remain any longer in an essentially +Protestant atmosphere. But to return to Thornby Place alone was +impossible, and she begged for Kitty. The parson was loth to part with +his daughter, but he felt there was much suffering beneath the calm +exterior that Mrs Norton preserved. He could refuse her nothing, and he +let Kitty go. + +"There is no reason why you should not come and dine with us every day; +but I shall not let you have her back for the next two months." + +"What day will you come and see us, father dear?" said Kitty, leaning +out of the carriage window. + +"On Thursday," cried the parson. + +"Very well, we shall expect you," replied Mrs Norton; and with a sigh +she sank back on the cushions, and fell to thinking of her son. + +At Thornby Place everything was soon discovered to be in a sad state of +neglect. There was much work to be done in the greenhouse, the azaleas +were being devoured by insects, and the leaves required a thorough +washing. It was easy to see that the cats had not been regularly fed, +and one of the tame rooks had flown away. Remedying these disasters, +Mrs Norton and Kitty hurried to and fro. There was a ball at Steyning, +and Mrs Norton consented to do the chaperon for once; and the girl's +dress was a subject of gossip for a month--for a fortnight an absorbing +occupation. Most of the people who had been at the hunt breakfast were +at the ball, and Kitty had plenty of partners. These suggested husbands +to Mrs Norton, and she questioned Kitty; but she did not seem to have +thought of the ball except in the light of a toy which she had been +allowed to play with one evening. The young men she had met there had +apparently interested her no more than if they had been girls, and she +regretted John only because of Mrs Norton. Every morning she ran to see +if there was a letter, so that it might be she who brought the good +news. But no letter came. Since Christmas John had written two short +notes, and now they were well on in April. But one morning as she stood +watching the springtide, Kitty saw him walking up the drive; the sky +was growing bright with blue, and the beds were catching flower beneath +the evergreen oaks. She ran to Mrs Norton, who was attending to the +canaries in the bow-window. + +"Look, look, Mrs Norton, John is coming up the drive; it is he; look!" + +"John!" said Mrs Norton, seeking for her glasses nervously; "yes, so it +is; let's run and meet him. But no; let's take him rather coolly. I +believe half his eccentricity is only put on because he wishes to +astonish us. We won't ask him any questions; we'll just wait and let him +tell his own story...." + +"How do you do, mother?" said the young man, kissing Mrs Norton with +less reluctance than usual. "You must forgive me for not having answered +your letters. It really was not my fault; I have been passing through a +very terrible state of mind lately.... And how do you do, Kitty? Have +you been keeping my mother company ever since? It is very good in you; +I am afraid you must think me a very undutiful son. But what is the +news?" + +"One of the rooks is gone." + +"Is that all?... What about the ball at Steyning? I hear it was a great +success." + +"Oh, it was delightful." + +"You must tell me about it after dinner. Now I must go round to the +stables and tell Walls to take the trap round to the station to fetch my +things." + +"Are you going to be here some time?" said Mrs Norton, assuming an +indifferent air. + +"Yes, I think so; that is to say, for a couple of months--six weeks. I +have some arrangements to make, but I will speak to you about all that +after dinner." + +With these words John left the room, and he left his mother agitated and +frightened. + +"What can he mean by having arrangements to make?" she asked. Kitty +could of course suggest no explanation, and the women waited the +pleasure of the young man to speak his mind. He seemed, however, in +no hurry to do so; and the manner in which he avoided the subject +aggravated his mother's uneasiness. At last she said, unable to bear the +suspense any longer: + +"Are you going to be a priest, John, dear?" + +"Of course, but not a Jesuit...." + +"And why? have you had a quarrel with the Jesuits?" + +"Oh, no; never mind; I don't like to talk about it; not exactly a +quarrel, but I have seen a great deal of them lately, and I have found +them out. I don't mean in anything wrong, but the order is so entirely +opposed to the monastic spirit. It is difficult to explain; I really +can't.... What I mean is ... well, that their worldliness is repugnant to +me--fashionable friends, confidences, meddling in family affairs, dining +out, letters from ladies who need consolation.... I don't mean anything +wrong; pray don't misunderstand me. I merely mean to say that I hate +their meddling in family affairs. Their confessional is a kind of +marriage bureau; they have always got some plan on for marrying this +person to that, and I must say I hate all that sort of thing.... If I +were a priest I would disdain to ... but perhaps I am wrong to speak like +that. Yes, it is very wrong of me, and before ... Kitty, you must not +think I am speaking against the principles of my religion, I am only +speaking of matters of--" + +"And have you given up your rooms in Stanton College?" + +"Not yet; that is to say, nothing is settled definitely, but I do not +think I shall go back there; at least not to live." + +"And you still are determined on becoming a priest?" + +"Certainly, but not a Jesuit." + +"What then?" + +"A Carmelite. I have seen a great deal of these monks lately, and it is +only they who preserve some of the old spirit of the old ideal. To enter +the Carmelite Chapel in Kensington is to step out of the mean +atmosphere of to-day into the lofty charm of the Middle Ages. The long +straight folds of habits falling over sandalled feet, the great rosaries +hanging down from the girdles, the smell of burning wax, the large +tonsures, the music of the choir; I know nothing like it. Last Sunday I +heard them sing St Fortunatus' hymn,... the _Vexilla regis_ heard in the +cloud of incense, and the wrath of the organ!... splendid are the rhymes! +the first stanza in U and O, the second in A, and the third in E; +passing over the closed vowels, the hymn ascends the scale of sound--" + +"Now, John, none of that nonsense; how dare you, sir? Don't attempt to +laugh at your mother." + +"My dear mother, you must not think I am sneering because I speak of +what is uppermost in my mind. I have determined to become a Carmelite +monk, and that is why I came down here." + +Mrs Norton was very angry; her temper fumed, and she would have burst +into violent words had not the last words, "and that is why I came down +here," frightened her into calmness. + +"What do you mean?" she said, turning round in her chair. "You came down +here to become a Carmelite monk; what do you mean?" + +John hesitated. He was clearly a little frightened, but having gone so +far he felt he must proceed. Besides, to-day, or to-morrow, sooner or +later the truth would have to be told. He said: + +"I intend altering the house a little here and there; you know how +repugnant this mock Italian architecture is to my feelings.... I am +coming to live here with some monks--" + +"You must be mad, sir; you mean to say that you intend to pull down the +house of your ancestors and turn it into a monastery?" + +John drew a breath of relief, the worst was over now; she had spoken the +fulness of his thought. Yes, he was going to turn Thornby Place into a +monastery. + +"Yes," he said, "if you like to put it in that way. Yes, I am going to +turn Thornby Place into a monastery. Why shouldn't I? I am resolved +never to marry; and I have no one except those dreadful cousins to leave +the place to. Why shouldn't I turn it into a monastery and become a +monk? I wish to save my soul." + +Mrs Norton groaned. + +"But you make me say more than I mean. To turn the place into a Gothic +monastery, such a monastery as I dreamed would not be possible, unless +indeed I pulled the whole place down, and I have not sufficient money to +do that, and I do not wish to mortgage the property. For the present I +am determined only on a few alterations. I have them all in my head. The +billiard room, that addition of yours, can be turned into a chapel. And +the casements of the dreadful bow-window might be removed, and mullions +and tracery fixed on, and, instead of the present flat roof, a sloping +tiled roof might be carried up against the wall of the house. The +cloisters would come at the back of the chapel." + +John stopped aghast at the sorrow he was causing, and he looked at his +mother. She did not speak. Her ears were full of merciless ruins; hope +vanished in the white dust; and the house with its memories sacred and +sweet fell pitilessly: beams lying this way and that, the piece of +exposed wall with the well-known wall paper, the crashing of slates. How +they fall! John's heart was rent with grief, but he could not stay his +determination any more than his breath. Youth is a season of suffering, +we cannot surrender our desire, and it lies heavy and burning on our +hearts. It is so easy for age, so hard for youth to make sacrifices. +Youth is and must be wholly, madly selfish; it is not until we have +learnt the folly of our aims that we may forget them, that we may pity +the sufferings of others, that we may rejoice in the triumphs of our +friends. To the superficial therefore, John Norton will appear but the +incarnation of egotism and priggishness, but those who see deeper will +have recognised that he is one who has suffered bitterly, as bitterly +as the outcast who lies dead in his rags beneath the light of the +policeman's lantern. Mental and physical wants!--he who may know one may +not know the other: is not the absence of one the reason of the other? +Mental and physical wants! the two planes of suffering whence the great +divisions of mankind view and envy the other's destinies, as we view a +passing pageant, as those who stand on the decks of crossing ships gaze +regretfully back. + +Those who have suffered much physical want will never understand John +Norton; he will find commiseration only from those who have realised _a +priori_ the worthlessness of existence, the vileness of life; above all, +from those who, conscious of a sense of life's degradation, impetuously +desire their ideal--the immeasurable ideal which lies before them, +clear, heavenly, and crystalline; the sea into which they would plunge +their souls, but in whose benedictive waters they may only dip their +fingertips, and crossing themselves, pass up the aisle of human +tribulation. We suffer in proportion to our passions. But John Norton +had no passion, say they who see passion only in carnal dissipation. Yet +the passions of the spirit are more terrible than those of the flesh; +the passion for God, the passion of revolt against the humbleness of +life; and there is no peace until passion of whatever kind has wailed +itself out. + +Foolish are they who describe youth as a time of happiness; it is one of +fever and anguish. + +Beneath its apparent calm, there was never a stormier youth than John's. +The boy's heart that grieves to death for a chorus-girl, the little +clerk who mourns to madness for the bright life that flashes from the +point of sight of his high office stool, never felt more keenly the +nervous pain of desire and the lassitudes of resistance. You think John +Norton did not suffer in his imperious desire to pull down the home of +his fathers and build a monastery! Mrs Norton's grief was his grief, but +to stem the impulse that bore him along was too keen a pain to be +endured. His desire whelmed him like a wave; it filled his soul like a +perfume, and against his will it rose to his lips in words. Even when +the servants were present he could not help discussing the architectural +changes he had determined upon, and as the vision of the cloister, with +its reading and chanting monks, rose to his head, he talked, blinded by +strange enthusiasm, of latticed windows, and sandals. + +His mother bit her thin lips, and her face tightened in an expression of +settled grief. Kitty was sorry for Mrs Norton, but Kitty was too young +to understand, and her sorrow evaporated in laughter. She listened to +John's explanations of the future as to a fairy tale suddenly touched +with the magic of realism. That the old could not exist in conjunction +with the new order of things never grew into the painful precision of +thought in her mind. She saw but the show side; she listened as to an +account of private theatricals, and in spite of Mrs Norton's visible +grief, she was amused when John described himself walking at the head +of his monks with tonsured head and a great rosary hanging from a +leather girdle. Her innocent gaiety attracted her to him. As they walked +about the grounds after breakfast, he spoke to her about pictures and +statues, of a trip he intended to take to Italy and Spain, and he did +not seem to care to be reminded that this jarred with his project for +immediate realisation of Thornby Priory. + +Leaning their backs against the iron railing which divided the green +sward from the park, John and Kitty looked at the house. + +"From this view it really is not so bad, though the urns and the loggia +are so intolerably out of keeping with the landscape. But when I have +made my alterations it will harmonise with the downs and the +flat-flowing country, so English with its barns and cottages and rich +agriculture, and there will be then a charming recollection of old +England, the England of the monastic ages, before the--but I forgot, I +must not speak to you on that subject." + +"Do you think the house will look prettier than it does now? Mrs Norton +says that it will be impossible to alter Italian architecture into +Gothic.... Of course I don't understand." + +"Mother does not know what she is talking about. I have it all down in +my pocket-book. I have various plans.... I admit it is not easy, but +last night I fancy I hit on an idea. I shall of course consult an +architect, although really I don't see there is any necessity for so +doing, but just to be on the safe side; for in architecture there are +many practical difficulties, and to be on the safe side I will consult +an experienced man regarding the practical working out of my design. I +made this drawing last night." John produced a large pocket-book. + +"But, oh, how pretty; will it be really like that?" + +"Yes," exclaimed John, delighted; "it will be exactly like that; but I +will read you my notes, and then you will understand it better. + +"_Alter and add to the front to represent the facade of a small +cathedral. This can be done by building out a projection the entire +width of the building, and one storey in height. This will be divided +into three arched divisions, topped with small gables_." + +"What are gables, John?" + +"Those are the gables. _The centre one (forming entrance) being rather +higher than the other gables. The entrance would be formed with +clustered columns and richly moulded pointed arches, the door being +solid, heavy oak, with large scroll and hammered iron hinges_. + +"_The centre front and back would be carried up to form steep gables, +the roof being heightened to match. The large gable in front to have a +large cross at apex_." + +"What is an apex? What words you do use." + +John explained, Kitty laughed. + +"The top I have indicated in the drawing. _And to have a rose window_. +You see the rose window in the drawing," said John, anticipating the +question which was on Kitty's lips. + +"Yes," said she, "but why don't you say a round window?" + +Without answering John continued: + +"_The first floor fronts would be arcaded round with small columns with +carved capitals and pointed arches. + +"At either corner of front, in lieu of present Ionic columns, carry up +octagonal turrets with pinnacles at top_. + +"You see them in the drawing. These are the octagonal turrets." + +"And which are the pinnacles?" + +"The ornaments at the top. + +"_From the centre of the roof carry up a square tower with battlemented +parapets and pinnacles at all corners, and flying buttresses from the +turrets of the main buildings_. + +"_The bow window at side will have the old casements removed, and have +mullions and tracery fixed and filled with cathedral glazings, and, +instead of the present flat, a sloping roof will be carried up and +finished against the outer wall of the house. At either side of bay +window buttresses with moulded water-tables, plinths, &c._ + +"_From these roofs and the front projections at intersection of small +gables, carved gargoyles to carry off water_. + +"_The billiard-room to be converted into a chapel, by building a new +high-pitched roof_." + +"Oh, John, why should you do away with the billiard-room; why shouldn't +the monks play billiards? You played billiards on the day of the meet." + +"Yes, but I am not a monk yet. No one ever heard of monks playing +billiards; besides, that dreadful addition of my mother's could not +remain in its present form, it would be ludicrous to a degree, whereas +it can be converted very easily into a chapel. We must have a +chapel--_building a high-pitched timber roof, throwing out an apse at +the end, and putting in mullioned and traceried windows filled with +stained glass_." + +"And the cloister you are always speaking about, where will that be?" + +"The cloister will come at the back of the chapel, and an arched and +vaulted ambulatory will be laid round the house. Later on I shall add a +refectory, and put a lavatory at one end of the ambulatory." + +"But don't you think, John, you may get tired of being a monk, and then +the house will have to be built back again." + +"Never, the house will be from every point of view, a better house when +my alterations are carried into effect. Beside, why should I be tired of +being a monk? Your father does not get tired of being a parson." + +This reply, although singularly unconvincing, was difficult to answer, +and the conversation fell. And day by day, John's schemes strengthened +and took shape, and he seemed to look upon himself already as a +Carmelite. He had even gone so far as to order a habit, it had arrived +a few days ago; and an architect, too, had come down from London. He +was the ray of hope in Mrs Norton's life. For although he had loudly +commended the artistic taste exhibited in the drawing, and expressed +great wonderment at John's architectural skill, he had, nevertheless, +when questioned as to their practicability, declared the scheme to be +wholly impossible. And the reasons he advanced in support of his +opinions were so conclusive that John was fain to beg of him to draw up +a more possible plan for the conversion of an Italian house into a +Gothic monastery. + +Mr ---- seemed to think the idea a wild one, but he promised to see what +could be done to overcome the difficulties he foresaw, and in a week +he forwarded John several drawings for his consideration. Judged by +comparison with John's dreams, the practical architecture of the +experienced man seemed altogether lacking in expression and in poetry +of proportion; and comparing them with his own cherished project, John +hung over the billiard-table, where the drawings were laid out, hour +after hour, only to rise more bitterly fretful, more utterly unable than +usual to reconcile himself to natural limitation, more hopelessly +longing for the unattainable. + +He could think of nothing but his monastery; his Latin authors were +forgotten; he drew facades and turrets on the cloth during dinner, and +he went up to his room, not to bed, but to reconsider the difficulties +that rendered the construction of a central tower an impossibility. + +Midnight: the house seems alive in the silence: night is on the world. +The twilight sheds on the walking birds, on the falling petals, and in +the rich shadow the candle burns brightly. The great bridal bed yawns, +the lace pillows lie wide, the curtains hang dreamily in the hallowed +light. John leans over his drawings. Once again he takes up the +architect's notes. + +"_The interior would be so constructed as to make it impossible to +carry up the central tower. The outer walls would not be strong enough +to take the large gables and roof. Although the chapel could be done +easily, the ambulatory would be of no use, as it would lead probably +from the kitchen offices._ + +"_Would have to reduce work on front facade to putting in new arched +entrance. Buttresses would take the place of columns_. + +"_The bow-window could remain_. + +"_The roof to be heightened somewhat. The front projection would throw +the front rooms into almost total darkness_." + +"But why not a light timber lantern tower?" thought John. "Yes, that +would get over the difficulty. Now if we could only manage to keep my +front ... if my design for the front cannot be preserved, I might as well +abandon the whole thing! And then?" + +And then life seemed to him void of meaning and light. He might as well +settle down and marry.... + +His face contracted in an expression of anger. He rose from the table, +and he looked round the room. Its appearance was singularly jarring, +shattering as it did his dream of the cloister, and up-building in fancy +the horrid fabric of marriage and domesticity. The room seemed to him a +symbol--with the great bed, voluptuous, the corpulent arm-chair, the +toilet-table shapeless with muslin--of the hideous laws of the world +and the flesh, ever at variance and at war, and ever defeating the +indomitable aspirations of the soul. John ordered his room to be +changed; and, in the face of much opposition from his mother, who +declared that he would never be able to sleep there, and would lose his +health, he selected a narrow room at the end of the passage. He would +have no carpet. He placed a small iron bed against the wall; two plain +chairs, a screen to keep off the draught from the door, a basin-stand +such as you might find in a ship's cabin, and a prie-dieu, were all the +furniture he permitted himself. + +"Oh, what a relief!" he murmured. "Now there is line, there is definite +shape. That formless upholstery frets my eye as false notes grate on my +ear;" and, becoming suddenly conscious of the presence of God, he fell +on his knees and prayed. He prayed that he might be guided aright in his +undertaking, and that, if it were conducive to the greater honour and +glory of God, he might be permitted to found a monastery, and that he +might be given strength to surmount all difficulties. + +Next morning, calm in mind, and happier, he went downstairs to the +drawing-room, a small book in his hand, an historical work of great +importance by the Venerable Bede, intitled _Vita beatorum abbatum +Wiremuthensium, et Girvensiuem, Benedicti Ceolfridi, Easteriwini, +Sigfridi atque Hoetberti_. But he could not keep his attention fixed on +the book, it appeared to him dreary and stupid. His thoughts wandered. +He thought of Kitty--of how beautiful she looked on the background of +red geraniums, with the soft yellow cat on her shoulder, and he wondered +which of the four great painters, Manet, Degas, Monet, or Renoir would +have best rendered the brightness and lightness, the intense colour +vitality of that motive for a picture. He thought of her young eyes, of +the pale hands, of the sudden, sharp laugh; and finally he took up one +of her novels, "Red as a Rose is She." He read it, and found it very +entertaining. + +But the evening post brought him a letter from the architect's head +clerk, saying that Mr ---- was ill, had not been to the office for the +last three or four days, and would not be able to go down to Sussex +again before the end of the month. Very much annoyed, John spent the +evening thinking whom he could consult on the practicability of his last +design for the front, and next, morning he was surprised at not seeing +Kitty at breakfast. + +"Where is Kitty?" he asked abruptly. + +"She is not feeling well; she has a headache, and will not be down +to-day." + +At the end of a long silence, John said: + +"I think I will go into Brighton.... I must really see an architect." + +"Oh, John, dear, you are not really determined to pull the house down?" + +"There is no use, mother dear, in our discussing that subject; each and +all of us must do the best we can with life. And the best we can do is +to try and gain heaven." + +"Breaking your mother's heart, and making yourself ridiculous before the +whole county, is not the way to gain heaven." + +"Oh, if you are going to talk like that...." + +John went into the drawing-room to continue his reading, but the Latin +bored him even more than it had done yesterday. He took up the novel, +but its enchantment was gone, and it appeared to him in its tawdry, +original vulgarity. He got on a horse and rode towards the downs, and +went up the steep ascents at a gallop. He stood amid the gorse at the +top and viewed the great girdle of blue encircling sea, and the long +string of coast towns lying below him, and far away. Lunch was on the +table when he returned. After lunch, harassed by an obsession of +architectural plans, he went out to sketch. But it rained, and resisting +his mother's invitation to change his clothes, he sat down before the +fire, damp without, and feverishly irritable within. He vacillated an +hour between his translation of St Fortunatus' hymn, _Quem terra, pontus +aethera_, and "Red as a Rose is She," which, although he thought it as +reprehensible for moral as for literary reasons, he was fain to follow +out to the vulgar end. But he could interest himself in neither hymn nor +novel. For the authenticity of the former he now cared not a jot, and he +threw the book aside vowing that its hoydenish heroine was unbearable +and he would read no more. + +"I never knew a more horrible place to live in than Sussex. Either of +two things: I must alter the architecture of this house, or I must +return to Stanton College." + +"Don't talk nonsense, do you think I don't know you? you are boring +yourself because Kitty is upstairs in bed, and cannot walk about with +you." + +"I do not know how you contrive, mother, always to say the most +disagreeable possible things; the marvellous way in which you pick out +what will, at the moment, wound me most is truly wonderful. I compliment +you on your skill, but I confess I am at a loss to understand why you +should, as if by right, expect me to remain here to serve continuously +as a target for the arrows of your scorn." + +John walked out of the room. During dinner mother and son spoke very +little, and he retired early, about ten o'clock, to his room. He was in +high dudgeon, but the white walls, the prie-dieu, the straight, narrow +bed were pleasant to see. His room was the first agreeable impression +of the day. He picked up a drawing from the table, it seemed to him +awkward and slovenly. He sharpened his pencil, cleared his crow-quill +pens, got out his tracing-paper, and sat down to execute a better. But +he had not finished his outline sketch before he leaned back in his +chair, and as if overcome by the insidious warmth of the fire, lapsed +into fire-light attitudes and meditations. + +He looked a little backwards into the blaze; he nibbled his pencil +point. Wavering light and wavering shade followed fast over the Roman +profile, followed and flowed fitfully--fitfully as his thoughts. Now his +thought followed out architectural dreams, and now he thought of +himself, of his unhappy youth, of how he had been misunderstood, of his +solitary life; a bitter, unsatisfactory life, and yet a life not wanting +in an ideal--a glorious ideal. He thought how his projects had always +met with failure, with disapproval, above all failure ... and yet, and +yet he felt, he almost knew there was something great and noble in him. +His eyes brightened; he slipped into thinking of schemes for a monastic +life; and then he thought of his mother's hard disposition and how she +misunderstood him,--everyone misunderstood him. What would the end be? +Would he succeed in creating the monastery he dreamed of so fondly? To +reconstruct the ascetic life of the Middle Ages, that would be something +worth doing, that would be a great ideal--that would make meaning in his +life. If he failed ... what should he do then? His life as it was, was +unbearable ... he must come to terms with life.... + +That central tower! how could he manage it! and that built-out front. +Was it true, as the architect said, that it would throw all the front +rooms into darkness? Without this front his design would be worthless. +What a difference it made! + +Kitty liked it. She had thought it charming. How young she was, how +glad and how innocent, and how clever, her age being taken into +consideration. She understood all you said. It would not surprise him if +she developed into something: but she would marry.... + +But why was he thinking of her? What concern had she in his life? A +little slip of a girl--a girl--a girl more or less pretty, that was all. +And yet it was pleasant to hear her laugh. That low, sudden laugh--she +was pleasanter company than his mother, she was pleasant to have in the +house, she interrupted many an unpleasant scene. Then he remembered what +his mother had said. She had said that he was disappointed that she was +ill, that he had missed her, that ... that it was because she was not +there that he had found the day so intolerably wearisome. + +Struck as with a dagger, the pain of the wound flowed through him +piercingly; and as a horse stops and stands trembling, for there is +something in the darkness beyond, John shrank back, his nerves +vibrating like highly-strung chords; and ideas--notes of regret and +lamentation died in great vague spaces. Ideas fell.... Was this all; was +this all he had struggled for; was he in love? A girl, a girl ... was a +girl to soil the ideal he had in view? No; he smiled painfully. The sea +of his thoughts grew calmer, the air grew dim and wan, a tall foundered +wreck rose pale and spectral, memories drifted. The long walks, the +talks of the monastery, the neighbours, the pet rooks, and Sammy the +great yellow cat, and the green-houses ... he remembered the pleasure he +had taken in those conversations! + +What must all this lead to? To a coarse affection, to marriage, to +children, to general domesticity. + +And contrasted with this.... + +The dignified and grave life of the cloister, the constant sensation of +lofty and elevating thought, a high ideal, the communion of learned men, +the charm of headship. + +Could he abandon this? No, a thousand times no; but there was a melting +sweetness in the other cup. The anticipation filled his veins with +fever. + +And trembling and pale with passion, John fell on his knees and prayed +for grace. But prayer was sour and thin upon his lips, and he could only +beg that the temptation might pass from him.... + +"In the morning," he said, "I shall be strong." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +But if in the morning he were strong, Kitty was more beautiful than +ever, and they walked out in the sunlight. They walked out on the green +sward, under the evergreen oaks where the young rooks are swinging; out +on the mundane swards into the pleasure ground; a rosery and a rockery; +the pleasure ground divided from the park by iron railings, the park +encircled by the rich elms, the elms shutting out the view of the lofty +downs. + +The meadows are yellow with buttercups, and the birds fly out of the +gold. And the golden note is prolonged through the pleasure grounds by +the pale yellow of the laburnums, by the great yellow of the berberis, +by the cadmium yellow of the gorse, by the golden wallflowers growing +amid rhododendrons and laurels. + +And the transparent greenery of the limes shivers, and the young rooks +swinging on the branches caw feebly. + +And about the rockery there are purple bunches of lilac, and the striped +awning of the tennis seat touches with red the paleness of the English +spring. + +Pansies, pale yellow pansies! + +The sun glinting on the foliage of the elms spreads a napery of vivid +green, and the trunks come out black upon the cloth of gold, and the +larks fly out of the gold, and the sky is a single sapphire, and two +white clouds are floating. It is May time. + +They walked toward the tennis seat with its red striped awning. They +listened to the feeble cawing of young rooks swinging on the branches. +They watched the larks nestle in, and fly out of the gold. It was May +time, and the air was bright with buds and summer bees. She was dressed +in white, and the shadow of the straw hat fell across her eyes when she +raised her face. He was dressed in black, and the clerical frock coat +buttoned by one button at the throat fell straight. + +They sat under the red striped awning of the tennis seat. The large +grasping hands holding the polished cane contrasted with the reedy +translucent hands laid upon the white folds. The low sweet breath of the +May time breathed within them, and their hearts were light; hers was +conscious only of the May time, but his was awake with unconscious love, +and he yielded to her, to the perfume of the garden, to the absorbing +sweetness of the moment. He was no longer John Norton. His being was +part of the May time; it had gone forth and had mingled with the colour +of the fields and sky; with the life of the flowers, with all vague +scents and sounds; with the joy of the birds that flew out of and +nestled with amorous wings in the gold. Enraptured and in complete +forgetfulness of his vows, he looked at her, he felt his being +quickening, and the dark dawn of a late nubility radiated into manhood. + +"How beautiful the day is," he said, speaking slowly. "Is it not all +light and colour, and you in your white dress with the sunlight on your +hair seem more blossom-like than any flower. I wonder what flower I +should compare you to.... Shall I say a rose? No, not a rose, nor a +lily, nor a violet; you remind me rather of a tall delicate pale +carnation...." + +"Why, John, I never heard you speak like that before; I thought you +never paid compliments." + +The transparent green of the limes shivers, the young rooks caw feebly, +and the birds nestle with amorous wings in the blossoming gold. Kitty +has taken off her straw hat, the sunlight caresses the delicate +plenitudes of the bent neck, the delicate plenitudes bound with white +cambric, cambric swelling gently over the bosom into the narrow circle +of the waist, cambric fluted to the little wrist, reedy translucid +hands; cambric falling outwards and flowing like a great white flower +over the green sward, over the mauve stocking, and the little shoe set +firmly. The ear is as a rose leaf, a fluff of light hair trembles on the +curving nape, and the head is crowned with thick brown gold. "O to bathe +my face in those perfumed waves! O to kiss with a deep kiss the hollow +of that cool neck!..." The thought came he know not whence nor how, as +lightning falls from a clear sky, as desert horsemen come with a glitter +of spears out of the cloud; there is a shock, a passing anguish, and +they are gone. + +He left her. So frightened was he at this sudden and singular obsession +of his spiritual nature by a lower and grosser nature, whose existence +in himself was till now unsuspected, and of whose life and wants in +others he had felt, and still felt, so much scorn, that in the tumult of +his loathing he could not gain the calm of mind necessary for an +examination of conscience. He could not look into his mind with any +present hope of obtaining a truthful reply to the very eminent and vital +question, how far his will had participated in that burning but wholly +inexcusable desire by which he had been so shockingly assailed. + +That inner life, so strangely personal and pure, and of which he was so +proud, seemed to him now to be befouled, and all its mystery and inner +grace, and the perfect possession which was his sanctuary, lost to him +for ever. For he could never quite forget the defiling thought; it would +always remain with him, and the consciousness of the stain would +preclude all possibility of that refining happiness, that attribute of +cleanliness, which he now knew had long been his. In his anger and +self-loathing his rage turned against Kitty. It was always the same +story--the charm and ideality of man's life always soiled by woman's +influence; so it was in the beginning, so it shall be.... + +He stopped before the injustice of the accusation; he remembered her +candour and her gracious innocence, and he was sorry; and he remembered +her youth and her beauty, and he let his thoughts dwell upon her. +Turning over his papers he came across the old monk's song to David: + + "Surge meo domno dulces fac, fistula versus: + David amat versus, surge fac fistula versus, + David amat vates vatorum est gloria David...." + +The verses seemed meaningless and tame, but they awoke vague impulses in +him, and, his mind filled by a dim dream of King David and Bathsheba, he +opened his Bible and turned over the pages, reading a phrase here and +there until he had passed from story and psalm to the Song of songs, and +was finally stopped by--"I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye +find my beloved, that ye tell him that I am sick of love." + +He laid the book down and leaned back in his chair, and holding his +temple with one hand (this was his favourite attitude) he looked in the +fire fixedly. He was ravaged by emotion. The magical fervour of the +words he had just read had revealed to him the depth of his passion. + +But he would tear the temptation out of his heart. The conduct of his +life had been long ago determined upon. He had known the truth as if by +instinct from the first; no life was possible except an ascetic life, at +least for him. And in this hour of weakness he summoned to his aid all +his ancient ideals: the solemnity and twilight of the arches, the +massive Gregorian chant which seems to be at once their voice and their +soul, the cloud of incense melting upon the mitres and sunsets, and the +boys' treble hovering over an ocean of harmony. But although the picture +of his future life rose at his invocation it did not move him as +heretofore, nor did the scenes he evoked of conjugal grossness and +platitude shock him to the extent he had expected. The moral rebellion +he succeeded in exciting was tepid, heartless, and ineffective, and he +was not moved by hate or fear until he remembered that God in His +infinite goodness had placed him for ever out of the temptation which he +so earnestly sought to escape from. Kitty was a Protestant. In a pang +of despair, windows and organ collapsed like cardboard; incense and +arches vanished, and then rose again with the light of a more gracious +vision upon them. For if the dignity and desire of mere self-salvation +had departed, all the lighter colours and livelier joys of the +conversion of others filled the sky of faith with morning tones and +harmonies. And then?... Salvation before all things, he answered in his +enthusiasm;--something of the missionary spirit of old time was upon +him, and forgetful of his aisles, his arches, his Latin authors, he went +down stairs and asked Kitty to play a game of billiards. + +"We play billiards here on Sunday, but you would think it wrong to do +so." + +"But to-day is not Sunday." + +"No, I was only speaking in a general way. Yet I often wonder how you +can feel satisfied with the protection your Church affords you against +the miseries and trials of the world. A Protestant, you know, may +believe pretty nearly as little or as much as he likes, whereas in our +church everything is defined; we know what we must believe to be saved. +There is a sense of security in the Catholic Church which the Protestant +has not." + +"Do you think so? That is because you do not know our Church," replied +Kitty, who was a little astonished at this sudden outburst. "I feel +quite happy and safe. I know that our Lord Jesus Christ died on the +Cross to save us, and we have the Bible to guide us." + +"Yes, but the Bible without the interpretation of the Church is ... may +lead to error. For instance..." + +John stopped abruptly. Seized with a sudden scruple of conscience he +asked himself if he, in his own house, had a right to strive to +undermine the faith of the daughter of his own friend. + +"Go on," cried Kitty, laughing, "I know the Bible better than you, +and if I break down I will ask father." And as if to emphasise her +intention, she hit her ball which was close under the cushion as hard as +she could. + +John hailed the rent in the cloth as a deliverance, for in the +discussion as to how it could be repaired, the religious question was +forgotten. + +But if he were her lover, if she were going to be his wife, he would +have the right to offer her every facility and encouragement to enter +the Catholic Church--the true faith. Darkness passes, and the birds are +carolling the sun, flowers and trees are pranked with aerial jewellery, +the fragrance of the warm earth flows in your veins, your eyes are fain +of the light above and your heart of the light within. He would not jar +his happiness by the presence of Mrs Norton, even Kitty's presence was +too actual a joy to be home. She drew him out of himself too completely, +interrupted the exquisite sense of personal enchantment which seemed to +permeate and flow through him with the sweetness of health returning to +a convalescent on a spring day. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts +came and went like soft light and shade in a garden close; his happiness +was a part of himself, as fragrance is inherent in the summer time. +The evil of the last days had fallen from him, and the reaction was +equivalently violent. Nor was he conscious of the formal resignation he +was now making of his dream, nor did he think of the distasteful load of +marital duties with which he was going to burden himself; all was lost +in the vision of beautiful companionship, a sort of heavenly journeying, +a bright earthly way with flowers and starlight--he a little in advance +pointing, she following, with her eyes lifted to the celestial gates +shining in the distance. Sometimes his arms would be thrown about her. +Sometimes he would press a kiss upon her face. She was his, his, and he +was her saviour. The evening died, the room darkened, and John's dream +continued in the twilight, and the ringing of the dinner bell and the +disturbance of dressing did not destroy his thoughts. Like fumes of +wine they hung about him during the evening, and from time to time he +looked at Kitty. + +But although he had so far surrendered himself, he did not escape +without another revulsion of feeling. A sudden realisation of what his +life would be under the new conditions did not fail to frighten him, and +he looked back with passionate regret on his abandoned dreams. But his +nature was changed, abstention he knew was beyond his strength, and +after many struggles, each of which was feebler than the last, he +determined to propose to Kitty on the first suitable occasion. + +Then came the fear of refusal. Often he was paralysed with pain, +sometimes he would morbidly allow his thoughts to dwell on the moment +when he would hear her say, it was impossible, that she did not and +could not love him. The young grey light of the eyes would be fixed upon +him; she would speak her sorrow, and her thin hands would hang by her +side in the simple attitude that was so peculiar to her. And he mused +willingly on the long meek life of grief that would then await him. He +would belong to God; his friar's frock would hide all; it would be the +habitation, and the Gothic walls he would raise, the sepulchre of his +love.... + +"But no, no, she shall be mine," he cried out, moved in his very +entrails. Why should she refuse him? What reason had he to believe that +she would not have him? He thought of how she had answered his questions +on this and that occasion, how she had looked at him; he recalled every +gesture and every movement with wonderful precision, and then he lapsed +into a passionate consideration of the general attitude of mind she +evinced towards him. He arrived at no conclusion, but these meditations +were full of penetrating delight. Sometimes he was afflicted with an +intense shyness, and he avoided her; and when Mrs Norton, divining his +trouble, sent them to walk in the garden, his heart warmed to his +mother, and he regretted his past harshness. + +And this idyll was lived about the beautiful Italian house, with its +urns and pilasters; through the beautiful English park, with its elms +now with the splendour of summer upon them; in the pleasure grounds with +their rosary, and the fountain where the rose leaves float, and the +wood-pigeons come at eventide to drink; in the greenhouse with its live +glare of geraniums, where the great yellow cat, so soft and beautiful, +springs on Kitty's shoulder, rounds its back, and purring, insists on +caresses; in the large clean stables where the horses munch the corn +lazily, and look round with round inquiring eyes, and the rooks croak +and flutter, and strut about Kitty's feet. It was Kitty; yes, it was +Kitty everywhere; even the blackbird darting through the laurels seemed +to cry Kitty. + +To propose! Time, place, and the words he should use had been carefully +considered. After each deliberation, a new decision had been taken: +but when he came to the point, John found himself unable to speak +any one of the different versions he had prepared. Still he was very +happy. The days were full of sunshine and Kitty, and he mistook her +light-heartedness for affection. He had begun to look upon her as his +certain wife, although no words had been spoken that would suggest such +a possibility. Outside of his imagination nothing was changed; he stood +in exactly the same relation to her as he had done when he returned from +Stanton College, determined to build a Gothic monastery upon the ruins +of Thornby Place, and yet somehow he found it difficult to realise that +this was so. + +One morning he said, as they went into the garden, "You must sometimes +feel a little lonely here ... when I am away ... all alone here with +mother." + +"Oh dear no! we have lots to do. I look after the pets in the morning. +I feed the cats and the rooks, and I see that the canaries have fresh +water and seed. And then the bees take up a lot of our time. We have +twenty-two hives. Mrs Norton says she ought to make five pounds a year +on each. Sometimes we lose a swarm or two, and then Mrs Norton is so +cross. We were out for hours with the gardener the other day, but we +could do no good; we could not get them out of that elm tree. You see +that long branch leaning right over the wall; well it was on that branch +that they settled, and no ladder was tall enough to reach them; and when +Bill climbed the tree and shook them out they flew right away." + +"Shall I, shall I propose to her now?" thought John. But Kitty continued +talking, and it was difficult to interrupt her. The gravel grated under +their feet; the rooks were flying about the elms. At the end of the +garden there was a circle of fig trees. A silent place, and John vowed +he would say the word there. But as they approached his courage died +within him, and he was obliged to defer his vows until they reached the +green-house. + +"So your time is fully occupied here." + +"And in the afternoon we go out for drives; we pay visits. You never +pay visits; you never go and call on your neighbours." + +"Oh, yes I do; I went the other day to see your father." + +"Ah yes, but that is only because he talks to you about Latin authors." + +"No, I assure you it isn't. Once I have finished my book I shall never +look at them again." + +"Well, what will you do?" + +"Next winter I intend to go in for hunting. I have told a dealer to look +out for a couple of nice horses for me." + +Kitty looked up, her grey eyes wide open. If John had told her that he +had given the order for a couple of crocodiles she could not have been +more surprised. + +"But hunting is over now; it won't begin again till next November. You +will have to play lawn tennis this summer." + +"I have sent to London for a racquet and shoes, and a suit of flannels." + +"Goodness me.... Well, that is a surprise! But you won't want the +flannels; you might play in the Carmelite's habit which came down the +other day. How you do change your mind about things!" + +"Do you never change your mind, Kitty?" + +"Well, I don't know, but not so suddenly as you. Then you are not going +to become a monk?" + +"I don't know, it depends on circumstances." + +"What circumstances?" said Kitty, innocently. + +The words "_whether you will or will not have me_" rose to John's lips, +but all power to speak them seemed to desert him; he had grown suddenly +as weak as melting snow, and in an instant the occasion had passed. He +hated himself for his weakness. The weary burden of his love lay still +upon him, and the torture of utterance still menaced him from afar. The +conversation had fallen. They were approaching the greenhouse, and the +cats ran to meet their patron. Sammy sprang on Kitty's shoulder. + +"Oh, isn't he a beauty? stroke him, do." + +John passed his hand along the beautiful yellow fur. Sammy rubbed his +head against his mistress' face, her raised eyes were as full of light +as the pale sky, and the rich brown head and the thin hands made a +picture in the exquisite clarity of the English morning,--in the +homeliness of the English garden, with tall hollyhocks, espalier apple +trees, and one labourer digging amid the cabbages. Joy crystal as the +morning itself illumined John's mind for a moment, and then faded, and +he was left lonely with the remembrance that his fate had still to be +decided, that it still hung in the scale. + +One evening as they were walking in the park, shadowy in the twilight of +an approaching storm, Kitty said: + +"I never would have believed, John, that you could care to go out for a +walk with me." + +"And why, Kitty?" + +Kitty laughed--her short sudden laugh was strange and sweet. John's +heart was beating. "Well," she said, without the faintest hesitation or +shyness, "we always thought you hated girls. I know I used to tease you, +when you came home for the first time; when you used to think of nothing +but the Latin authors." + +"What do you mean?" + +Kitty laughed again. + +"You promise not to tell?" + +"I promise." + +This was their first confidence. + +"You told your mother when I came, when you were sitting by the fire +reading, that the flutter of my skirts disturbed you." + +"No, Kitty, I'm sure you never disturbed me, or at least not for a long +time. I wish my mother would not repeat conversations, it is most +unfair." + +"Mind you, you promised not to repeat what I have told you. If you do, +you will get me into an awful scrape." + +"I promise." + +The conversation came to a pause. Presently Kitty said, "But you seem to +have got over your dislike to girls. I saw you talking a long while with +Miss Orme the other day; and at the Meet you seemed to admire her. She +was the prettiest girl we had here." + +"No, indeed she wasn't!" + +"Who was, then?" + +"You were." + +Kitty looked up; and there was so much astonishment in her face that +John in a sudden access of fear said, "We had better make haste, the +storm is coming on; we shall get wet through." + +They ran towards the house. John reproached himself bitterly, but +he made no further attempt to screw his courage up to the point +of proposing. His disappointment was followed by doubts. Was his +powerlessness a sign from God that he was abandoning his true vocation +for a false one? and a little shaken, he attempted to interest himself +in the re-building of his house; but the project had grown impossible to +him, and he felt he could not embrace it again, with any of the old +enthusiasm at least, until he had been refused by Kitty. There were +moments when he almost yearned to hear her say that she could never love +him. But in his love and religious suffering the thought of bringing a +soul home to the true fold remained a fixed light; he often looked to it +with happy eyes, and then if he were alone he fell on his knees and +prayed. Prayer like an opiate calmed his querulous spirit, and having +told his beads--the great beads which hung on his prie-dieu--he would go +down stairs with peace in his heart, and finding Kitty, he would ask her +to walk with him in the garden, or they would stroll out on the tennis +lawn, racquet in hand. + +One afternoon it was decided that they should go for a long walk. John +suggested that they should climb to the top of Toddington Mount, and +view the immense plain which stretches away in dim blue vapour and a +thousand fields. + +You see John and Kitty as they cross the wide park towards the vista in +the circling elms,--she swinging her parasol, he carrying stiffly his +grave canonical cane. He still wears the long black coat buttoned at the +throat, but the air of hieratic dignity is now replaced by, or rather it +is glossed with, the ordinary passion of life. Both are like children, +infinitely amused by the colour of the grass and sky, by the hurry of +the startled rabbit, by the prospect of the long walk; and they taste +already the wild charm of the downs, seeing and hearing in imagination +its many sights and sounds, the wild heather, the yellow savage gorse, +the solitary winding flock, the tinkling of the bell-wether, the +cliff-like sides, the crowns of trees, the mighty distance spread out +like a sea below them with its faint and constantly dissolving horizon +of the Epsom Hills. + +"I never can cross this plain, Kitty, without thinking of the Dover +cliffs as seen in mid Channel; this is a mere inland imitation of them." + +"I have never seen the Dover cliffs; I have never been out of England, +but the Brighton cliffs give me an idea of what you mean." + +"On your side--the Shoreham side--the downs rise in a gently sloping +ascent from the sea." + +"Yes, we often walk up there. You can see Brighton and Southwick and +Worthing. Oh! it is beautiful! I often go for a walk there with my +friends, the Austen girls--you saw them here at the Meet." + +"Yes, Mr Austen has a very nice property; it extends right into the town +of Shoreham, does it not?" + +"Yes, and right up to Toddington Mount, where we are going. But aren't +you a little tired, John? These roads are very steep." + +"Out of breath, Kitty; let's stop for a minute or two." The country lay +below them. They had walked three miles, and Thornby Place and its elms +were now vague in the blue evening. "We must see one of these days if we +cannot do the whole distance." + +"What? right across the downs from Shoreham to Henfield?" + +"Well, it is not more than eight miles; you don't think you could manage +it?" + +"I don't know, it is more than eight miles, and walking on the downs is +not like walking on the highroad. Father thinks nothing of it." + +"We must really try it." + +"What would you do if I were to get so tired that I could not go back or +forward?" + +"I would carry you." + +They continued their climb. Speaking of the Devil's Dyke, Kitty said-- + +"What! you mean to say you never heard the legend? You, a Sussex man!" + +"I have lived very little in Sussex, and I used to hate the place; I am +only just beginning to like it." + +"And you don't like the Jesuits any more, because they go in for +matchmaking." + +"They are too sly for me, I confess; I don't approve of priests meddling +in family affairs. But tell me the legend." + +"Oh, how steep these roads are. At last, at last. Now let's try and find +a place where we can sit down. The grass is full of that horrid prickly +gorse." + +"Here's a nice soft place; there is no gorse here. Now tell me the +legend." + +"Well, I never!" said Kitty, sitting herself on the spot that had been +chosen for her, "you do astonish me. You never heard of the legend of St +Cuthman." + +"No, do tell it to me." + +"Well, I scarcely know how to tell it in ordinary words, for I learnt it +in poetry." + +"In poetry! In whose poetry?" + +"Evy Austen put it into poetry, the eldest of the girls, and they made +me recite it at the harvest supper." + +"Oh, that's awfully jolly--I never should have thought she was so +clever. Evy is the dark-haired one." + +"Yes, Evy is awfully clever; but she doesn't talk much about it." + +"Do recite it." + +"I don't know that I can remember it all. You won't laugh if I break +down." + +"I promise." + + THE LEGEND OF ST CUTHMAN. + + "St Cuthman stood on a point which crowns + The entire range of the grand South Downs; + Beneath his feet, like a giant field, + Was stretched the expanse of the Sussex Weald. + 'Suppose,' said the Saint,''twas the will of Heaven + To cause this range of hills to be riven, + And what were the use of prayers and whinings, + Were the sea to flood the village of Poynings: + 'Twould be fine, no doubt, these Downs to level, + But to do such a thing I defy the Devil!' + St Cuthman, tho' saint, was a human creature, + And his eye, a bland and benevolent feature, + Remarked the approach of the close of day, + And he thought of his supper, and turned away. + Walking fast, he + Had scarcely passed the + First steps of his way, when he saw something nasty; + 'Twas tall and big, + And he saw from its rig + 'Twas the Devil in full diabolical fig. + There were wanting no proofs, + For the horns and the hoofs + And the tail were a fully convincing sight; + But the heart of the Saint + Ne'er once turned faint, + And his halo shone with redoubled light. + 'Hallo, I fear + You're trespassing here!' + Said St Cuthman, 'To me it is perfectly clear, + If you talk of the devil, he's sure to appear!' + 'With my spade and my pick + I am come,' said old Nick, + 'To prove you've no power o'er a demon like me. + I'll show you my power-- + Ere the first morning hour + Thro' the Downs, over Poynings, shall roll in the sea.' + 'I'll give you long odds,' + Cried the Saint, 'by the gods! + I'll stake what you please, only say what your wish is.' + Said the devil, 'By Jove! + You're a sporting old cove! + My pick to your soul, + I'll make such a hole, + That where Poynings now stands, shall be swimming the fishes.' + 'Done!' cried the Saint, 'but I must away + I have a penitent to confess; + In an hour I'll come to see fair play-- + In truth I cannot return in less. + My bet will be won ere the first bright ray + Heralds the ascension of the day. + If I lose!--there will be _the devil to pay!_' + He descended the hill with a firm quick stride, + Till he reached a cell which stood on the side; + He knocked at the door, and it opened wide,-- + He murmured a blessing and walked inside. + Before him he saw a tear-stained face + Of an elderly maiden of elderly grace; + Who, when she beheld him, turned deadly pale, + And drew o'er her features a nun's black veil. + 'Holy father!' she said, 'I have one sin more, + Which I should have confessed sixty years before! + I have broken my vows--'tis a terrible crime! + I have loved _you_, oh father, for all that time! + My passion I cannot subdue, tho' I try! + Shrive me, oh father! and let me die!' + 'Alas, my daughter,' replied the Saint, + 'One's desire is ever to do what one mayn't, + There was once a time when I loved you, too, + I have conquered my passion, and why shouldn't you? + For penance I say, + You must kneel and pray + For hours which will number seven; + Fifty times say the rosary, + (Fifty, 'twill be a poser, eh?) + But by it you'll enter heaven; + As each hour doth pass, + Turn the hour glass, + Till the time of midnight's near; + On the stroke of midnight + This taper light, + Your conscience will then be clear.' + He left the cell, and he walked until + He joined Old Nick on the top of the hill. + It was five o'clock, and the setting sun + Showed the work of the Devil already begun. + St Cuthman was rather fatigued by his walk, + And caring but little for brimstone talk, + He watched the pick crash through layers of chalk. + And huge blocks went over and splitting asunder + Broke o'er the Weald like the crashing of thunder. + St Cuthman wished the first hour would pass, + When St Ursula, praying, reversed the glass. + 'Ye legions of hell!' the Old Gentleman cried, + 'I have such a terrible stitch in the side!' + 'Don't work so hard,' said the Saint, 'only see, + The sides of your dyke a heap smoother might be.' + 'Just so,' said the Devil, 'I've had a sharp fit, + So, resting, I'll trim up my crevice a bit.' + St Cuthman was looking prodigiously sly, + He knew that the hours were slipping by. + 'Another attack! + I've cramp at my back! + I've needles and pins + From my hair to my shins! + I tremble and quail + From my horns to my tail! + I will not be vanquished, I'll work, I say, + This dyke shall be finished ere break of day!' + 'If you win your bet, 'twill be fairly earned,' + Said the Saint, and again was the hour-glass turned. + And then with a most unearthly din + The farther end of the dyke fell in; + But in spite of an awful rheumatic pain + The Devil began his work again. + 'I'll not be vanquished!' exclaimed the old bloke. + 'By breathing torrents of flame and smoke, + Your dyke,' said the Saint, 'is hindered each minute, + What can one expect when the Devil is in it?' + Then an accident happened, which caused Nick at last + To rage, fume, and swear; when the fourth hour had passed, + On his hoof there came rolling a huge mass of quartz. + Then quite out of sorts + The bad tempered old cove + Sent the huge mass of stone whizzing over to Hove. + He worked on again, till a howl and a cry + Told the Saint one more hour--the fifth--had gone by. + 'What's the row?' asked the Saint, 'A cramp in the wrist, + I think for a while I had better desist.' + Having rested a bit he worked at his chasm, + Till, the hour having passed, he was seized with a spasm. + He raged and he cursed, + 'I bore this at first, + The rheumatics were awful, but this is the worst.' + With awful rage heated, + The demon defeated, + In his passion used words that can't be repeated. + Feeling shaken and queer, + In spite of his fear, + At the dyke he worked on until midnight drew near. + But when the glass turned for the last time, he found + That the head of his pick was stuck fast in the ground. + 'Cease now!' cried St Cuthman, 'vain is your toil! + Come forth from the dyke! Leave your pick in the soil! + You agreed to work 'tween sunset and morn, + And lo! the glimmer of day is born! + In vain was your fag, + And your senseless brag.' + Dizzy and dazed with sulphureous vapour, + Old Nick was deceived by St Ursula's taper. + 'The dawn!' yelled the Devil, 'in vain was my boast, + That I'd have your soul, for I've lost it, I've lost!' + 'Away!' cried St Cuthman, 'Foul fiend! away! + See yonder approaches the dawn of day! + Return to the flames where you were before, + And molest these peaceful South Downs no more!' + The old gentleman scowled but dared not stay, + And the prints of his hoofs remain to this day, + Where he spread his dark pinions and soared away. + At St Ursula's cell + Was tolling the bell, + And St Cuthman in sorrow, stood there by her side. + 'Twas over at last, + Her sorrows were past, + In the moment of triumph St Ursula died. + Tho' this was the ground, + There never were found + The tools of the Devil, his spade and his pick; + But if you want proof + Of the Legend, the hoof- + Marks are still in the hillock last trod by Old Nick." + +"Oh! that is jolly. Well, I never thought the girl was clever enough to +write that. And there are some excellent rhymes in it, 'passed he' +rhyming with 'nasty,' and 'rosary' with 'poser, eh;' and how well you +recite it." + +"Oh, I recited it better at the harvest supper; and you have no idea how +the farmers enjoyed it. They know the place so well, and it interested +them on that account. They understood it all." + +John sat as if enchanted,--by Kitty's almost childish grace, her +enthusiasm for her friend's poem, and her genuine enjoyment of it; by +the abrupt hills, mysterious now in sunset and legend; by the vast +plains so blue and so boundless: out of the thought of the littleness +of life, of which they were a symbol, there came the thought of the +greatness of love. + +"Won't you cross the poor gipsy's palm with a bit of silver, my pretty +gentleman, and she will tell you your fortune and that of your pretty +lady?" + +Kitty uttered a startled cry, and turning they found themselves facing a +strong, black-eyed girl. She repeated her question. + +"What do you think, Kitty, would you like to have your fortune told?" + +Kitty laughed. "It would be rather fun," she said. + +She did not know what was coming, and she listened to the usual story, +full by the way of references to John--of a handsome young man who would +woo her, win her, and give her happiness, children, and wealth. + +John threw the girl a shilling. She withdrew. They watched her passing +through the furze. The silence about them was immense. Then John spoke: + +"What the gipsy said is quite true; I did not dare to tell you so +before." + +"What do you mean, John?" + +"I mean that I am in love with you, will you love me?" + +"You in love with me, John; it is quite absurd--I thought you hated +girls." + +"Never mind that, Kitty, say you will have me; make the gipsy's words +come true." + +"Gipsies' words always come true." + +"Then you will marry me?" + +"I never thought about marriage. When do you want me to marry you? I am +only seventeen?" + +"Oh! when you like, later on, only say you will be mine, that you will +be mistress of Thornby Place one day, that is all I want." + +"Then you don't want to pull the house down any more." + +"No, no; a thousand times no! Say you will be my wife one of these +days." + +"Very well then, one of these days...." "And I may tell my mother of +your promise to-night?... It will make her so happy." + +"Of course you may tell her, John, but I don't think she will believe +it." + +"Why should she not believe it?" + +"I don't know," said Kitty, laughing, "but how funny, was it not, that +the gipsy girl should guess right?" + +"Yes, it was indeed. I wanted to tell you before, but I hadn't the +courage; and I might never have found the courage if it had not been for +that gipsy." + +In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely +sensible of the importance of the promise she had given. And in silence +he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever +in his mind. Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, +and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard. +Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in +darkness that was almost night. + +"I am sorry we cannot see the house--your house," said John as they +descended the chalk road. + +"It seems so funny to hear you say that, John." + +"Why? It will be your house some day." + +"But supposing your Church will not let you marry me, what then...." + +"There is no danger of that; a dispensation can always be obtained. But +who knows.... You have never considered the question.... You know +nothing of our Church; if you did, you might become a convert. I wish +you would consider the question. It is so simple; we surrender our own +wretched understanding, and are content to accept the Church as wiser +than we. Once man throws off restraint there is no happiness, there is +only misery. One step leads to another; if he would be logical he must +go on, and before long, for the descent is very rapid indeed, he finds +himself in an abyss of darkness and doubt, a terrible abyss indeed, +where nothing exists, and life has lost all meaning. The Reformation was +the thin end of the wedge, it was the first denial of authority, and you +see what it has led to--modern scepticism and modern pessimism." + +"I don't know what it means, but I heard Mrs Norton say you were a +pessimist." + +"I was; but I saw in time where it was leading me, and I crushed it out. +I used to be a Republican too, but I saw what liberty meant, and what +were its results, and I gave it up." + +"So you gave up all your ideas for Catholicism...." + +John hesitated, he seemed a little startled, but he answered, "I would +give up anything for my Church..." + +"What! Me?" + +"That is not required." + +"And did it cost you much to give up your ideas?" + +John raised his eyes--it was a look that Balzac would have understood +and would have known how to interpret in some admirable pages of human +suffering. "None will ever know how I have suffered," he said sadly. +"But now I am happy, oh! so happy, and my happiness would be complete +if.... Oh! if God would grant you grace to believe...." + +"But I do believe. I believe in our Lord Christ who died to save us. Is +not that enough?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Like Juggernaut's car, Catholicism had passed over John's mind, crushing +all individualism, and leaving it but a wreck of quaking mysticism. +Twenty times a day the spectre of his conscience rose and with menacing +finger threatened him with flames and demons. And his love was a source +of continual suffering. How often did he ask himself if he were +surrendering his true vocation? How often did he beg of God to guide him +aright? But these mental agitations were visible to no one. He preserved +his calm exterior and the keenest eye detected in him only an ordinary +young man with more than usually strict business habits. He had +appointments with his solicitor. He consulted with him, he went into +complex calculations concerning necessary repairs, and he laid plans for +the more advantageous letting of the farms. + +His mother encouraged him to attend to his business. Her head was full +of other matters. A dispensation had to be obtained; it was said that +the Pope was more than ever opposed to mixed marriages. But no objection +would be made to this one. It would be madness to object.... A rich +Catholic family at Henfield--nearly four thousand a-year--must not be +allowed to become extinct. Thornby Place was the link between the Duke +of Norfolk and the So and So's. If those dreadful cousins came in for +the property, Protestantism would again be established at Thornby Place. +And what a pity that would be; and just at a time when Catholicism was +beginning to make headway in Sussex. And if John did not marry now he +would never marry; of that she was quite sure. + +As may be imagined, these were not the arguments with which Mrs Norton +sought to convince the Rev. William Hare; they were those with which she +besieged the Brompton Oratory, Farm Street, and the Pro-Cathedral. She +played one off against the other. The Jesuits were nettled at having +lost him, but it was agreeable to learn that the Carmelites had been no +less unfortunate than they. The Oratorians on the whole thought he was +not in their "line"; and as their chance of securing him was remote, +they agreed that John would prove more useful to the Church as a married +man than as a priest. A few weeks later the Papal sanction was obtained. + +The clause concerning the children affected Mr Hare deeply, but he was +told that he must not stand in the way of the happiness of two young +people. He considered the question from many points of view, but in the +meantime Mrs Norton continued to deluge Kitty with presents, and to talk +to everybody of her son's marriage. The parson's difficulties were +thereby increased, and eventually he found he could not withhold his +consent. + +And as time went on, John seemed to take a more personal delight in +life than he had done before. He forgot his ancient prejudices if not +his ancient ideals, and, as was characteristic of him, he avoided +thinking with any definiteness on the nature of the new life into which +he was to enter soon. His neighbours declared he was very much improved; +and there were dinner parties at Thornby Place. One of his great +pleasures was to start early in the morning, and having spent a long +day with Kitty, to return home across the downs. The lofty, lonely +landscape, with its lengthy hills defined upon the flushes of July, came +in happy contrast with the noisy hours of tennis and girls; and standing +on the gently ascending slopes, rising almost from the wicket gate of +the rectory, he would wave farewells to Kitty and the Austins. And in +the glittering morning, grey and dewy, when he descended these slopes to +the strip of land that lies between them and the sea, he would pause on +the last verge where the barn stands. Squire Austin's woods are in +front, and they stretch by the town to the sleepy river with its +spiderlike bridge crossing the sandy marshes. The church spire and roofs +show through each break in the elm trees, and higher still the horizon +of the sea is shimmering. + +The rectory is rich brown brick and tiles. About it there is an ample +farmyard. Mr Hare has but the house and an adjoining field, the three +great ricks are Mr Austin's; the sunlight is upon them, and through the +long shadows the cart horses are moving with the drays; and now a +hundred pigeons rise and are seen against the green velvet of the elms, +and one bird's wings are white upon the white sea. + +Mr Hare is sitting in the verandah smoking, Kitty is attending to her +birds. + +"Good morning, John," she cried, "but I can't shake hands with you, my +hands are dirty. Do you talk to father, I haven't a moment. There is +such a lot to do. You know the Miss Austins are coming here to early +dinner, and we have two young men coming from Worthing to play tennis. +The court isn't marked yet." + +"I will help you to mark it." + +"Very well, but I am not ready yet." + +John lit a cigar, and he spoke of books to Mr Hare, whom he considered a +gross Philistine, although a worthy man. The shadows of the Virginia +creeper fell on the red pavement, and Kitty's light voice was heard on +the staircase. Presently she appeared, and lifting the trailing foliage, +she spoke to him. She took him away, and the parson watched the white +lines being marked on the sward. He watched them walk by the iron +railing that separated Little Leywood from Leywood, the Squire's house. +They passed through a small wooden gate into a bit of thick wood, and so +gained the drive. Mr Austin took John to see the horses, Kitty ran to +see the girls who were in their room dressing. How they chattered as +they came down stairs, and with what lightness and laughter they went to +Little Leywood. Their interests were centred in John, and Kitty took +the foremost place as an engaged girl. After dinner young men arrived, +and tennis was played unceasingly. At six o'clock, tired and hot with +air and exercise, all went in to tea--a high tea. At seven John said he +must be thinking of getting home; and happy and glad with all the +pleasant influences of the day upon them, Kitty and the Miss Austins +accompanied him as far as the farm gate. + +"What a beautiful walk you will have, Mr Norton; but aren't you tired? +Seven miles in the morning and seven in the evening!" + +"But I have had the whole day to rest in." + +"What a lovely evening! Let's all walk a little way with him," said +Kitty. + +"I should like to," said the elder Miss Austin, "but we promised father +to be home for dinner. The one sure way of getting into his black books +is to keep his dinner waiting, and he wouldn't dine without us." + +"Well, good-bye, dear," said Kitty, "I shall walk as far as the burgh." + +The Miss Austins turned into the rich trees that encircle Leywood, Kitty +and John faced the hill. They were soon silhouettes, and ascending, they +stood, tiny specks upon the pink evening hours. The table-land swept +about them in multitudinous waves; it was silent and solitary as the +sea. Lancing College, some miles distant, stood lonely as a lighthouse, +and beneath it the Ada flowed white and sluggish through the marshes, +the long spine of the skeleton bridge was black, and there, by that low +shore, the sea was full of mist, and sea and shore and sky were lost in +opal and grey. Old Shoreham, with its air of commerce, of stagnant +commerce, stood by the sea. The tide was out, the sea gates were dry, +only a few pools flashed silver amid the ooze; and the masts of the tall +vessels,--tall vessels aground in that strange canal or rather dyke +which runs parallel with and within a few yards of the sea for so many +miles,--tapered and leaned out over the sea banks, and the points of the +top masts could be counted. Then on the left hand towards Brighton, the +sea streamed with purple, it was striped with green, and it hung like a +blue veil behind the rich trees of Leywood and Little Leywood, and the +trees and the fields were full of golden rays. + +The lovers stood on a grassy plain; sheep were travelling over the great +expanses of the valleys; rooks were flying about. Looking over the plain +you saw Southwick,--a gleam of gables, a gleam of walls,--skirting a +plantation; and further away still, Brighton lay like a pile of rocks +heaped about a low shore. + +To the lovers life was now as an assortment of simple but beautiful +flowers; and they passed the blossoms to and fro and bound them into +a bouquet. They talked of the Miss Austins, of their flirtations, of +the Rectory, of Thornby Place, of Italy, for there they were going +next month on their honeymoon. The turnip and corn lands were as +inconceivable widths of green and yellow satin rolling through the rich +light of the crests into the richer shadow of the valleys. And there +there was a farm-house surrounded by buildings, surrounded by trees,--it +looked like a nest in its snug hollow; the smoke ascended blue and +peacefully. It was the last habitation. Beyond it the downs extend, in +almost illimitable ranges ascending to the wild golden gorse, to the +purple heather. + +We are on the burgh. The hills tumble this way and that; below is the +great weald of Sussex, blue with vapour, spotted with gold fields, level +as a landscape by Hobbema; Chanctonbury Ring stands up like a gaunt +watcher; its crown of trees is pressed upon its brow, a dark and +imperial crown. + +Overhead the sky is full of dark grey clouds; through them the sun +breaks and sheds silver dust over the landscape; in the passing gleams +the green of the furze grows vivid. If you listen you hear the tinkling +of the bell-wether; if you look you see a solitary rabbit. A stunted +hawthorn stands by the circle of stone, and by it the lovers were +sitting. He was talking to her of Italy, of cathedrals and statues, +for although he now loves her as a man should love, he still saw his +honeymoon in a haze of Botticellis, cardinals, and chants. They stood +up and bid each other good-bye, and waving hands they parted. + +Night was coming on apace, a long way lay still before him, and he +walked hastily; she being nearer home, sauntered leisurely, swinging her +parasol. The sweetness of the evening was in her blood and brain, and +the architectural beauty of the landscape--the elliptical arches of the +hills--swam before her. But she had not walked many minutes before a +tramp, like a rabbit out of a bush, sprang out of the furze where he had +been sleeping. He was a gaunt hulking fellow, six feet high. + +"Now 'aven't you a copper or two for a poor fellow, Missie?" + +Kitty started from him frightened. "No, I haven't, I have nothing ... go +away." + +He laughed hoarsely, she ran from him. "Now, don't run so fast, Missie, +won't you give a poor fellow something?" + +"I have nothing." + +"Oh, yes you 'ave; what about those pretty lips?" + +A few strides brought him again to her side. He laid his hand upon her +arm. She broke her parasol across his face, he laughed hoarsely. She saw +his savage beast-like eyes fixed hungrily upon her. She fainted for fear +of his look of dull tigerish cruelty. She fell.... + +When shaken and stunned and terrified she rose from the ground, she saw +the tall gaunt figure passing away like a shadow. The wild solitary +landscape was pale and dim. In the fading light it was a drawing made on +blue paper with a hard pencil. The long undulating lines were defined +on the dead sky, the girdle of blue encircling sea was an image of +eternity. All now was the past, there did not seem to be a present. Her +mind was rocked to and fro, and on its surface words and phrases floated +like sea weed.... To throw her down and ill-treat her. Her frock is +spoilt; they will ask her where she has been to, and how she got herself +into such a state. Mechanically she brushed herself, and mechanically, +very mechanically she picked bits of furze from her dress. She held each +away from her and let it drop in a silly vacant way, all the while +running the phrases over in her mind: "What a horrible man ... he threw me +down and ill-treated me; my frock is ruined, utterly ruined, what a +state it is in! I had a narrow escape of being murdered. I will tell +them that ... that will explain ... I had a narrow escape of being +murdered." But presently she grew conscious that these thoughts were +fictitious thoughts, and that there was a thought, a real thought, +lying in the background of her mind, which she dared not face, which she +could not think of, for she did not think as she desired to; her +thoughts came and went at their own wild will, they flitted lightly, +touching with their wings but ever avoiding this deep and formless +thought which lay in darkness, almost undiscoverable, like a monster in +a nightmare. + +She rose to her feet, she staggered, her sight seemed to fail her. There +was a darkness in the summer evening which she could not account for; +the ground seemed to slide beneath her feet, the landscape seemed to be +in motion and to be rolling in great waves towards the sea. Would it +precipitate itself into the sea, and would she be engulphed in the +universal ruin? O! the sea, how implacably serene, how remorselessly +beautiful; green along the shore, purple along the horizon! But the land +was rolling to it. By Lancing College it broke seaward in a soft lapsing +tide, in front of her it rose in angry billows; and Leywood hill, +green, and grand, and voluted, stood up a great green wave against the +waveless sea. + +"What a horrible man ... he attacked me, ill-treated me ... what for?" Her +thoughts turned aside. "He should be put in prison.... If father knew +it, or John knew it, he would be put in prison, and for a very long +time.... Why did he attack me?... Perhaps to rob me; yes, to rob me, of +course to rob me." The evening seemed to brighten, the tumultuous +landscape to grow still, To rob her, and of what?... of her watch; where +was it? It was gone. The happiness of a dying saint when he opens arms +to heaven descended upon her. The watch was gone ... but, had she lost it? +Should she go back and see if she could find it? Oh! impossible; see the +place again--impossible! search among the gorse--impossible! Horror! She +would die. O to die on the lonely hills, to lie stark and cold beneath +the stars! But no, she would not be found upon these hills. She would +die and be seen no more. O to die, to sink in that beautiful sea, so +still, so calm, so calm--why would it not take her to its bosom and hide +her away? She would go to it, but she could not get to it; there were +thousands of men between her and it.... An icy shiver passed through +her. + +Then as her thoughts broke away, she thought of how she had escaped +being murdered. How thankful she ought to be--but somehow she is not +thankful. And she was above all things conscious of a horror of +returning, of returning to where she would see men and women's faces ... +men's faces. And now with her eyes fixed on the world that awaited her, +she stood on the hillside. There was Brighton far away, sparkling in the +dying light; nearer, Southwick showed amid woods, winding about the foot +of the hills; in front Shoreham rose out of the massy trees of Leywood, +the trees slanted down to the lawn and foliage and walls, made spots of +white and dark green upon a background of blue sea; further to the +right there was a sluggish silver river, the spine of the skeleton +bridge, a spur of Lancing hill, and then mist, pale mist, pale grey +mist. + +"I cannot go home", thought the girl, and acting in direct contradiction +to her thoughts, she walked forward. Her parasol--where was it? It was +broken. The sheep, how sweet and quiet they looked, and the clover, how +deliciously it smelt.... This is Mr Austin's farm, and how well kept it +is. There is the barn. And Evy and Mary, when would they be married? Not +so soon as she, she was going to be married in a month. In a month. She +repeated the words over to herself; she strove to collect her thoughts, +and failing to do so, she walked on hurriedly, she almost ran as if in +the motion to force out of sight the thoughts that for a moment +threatened to define themselves in her mind. Suddenly she stopped; there +were some children playing by the farm gate. They did not know that she +was by, and she listened to their childish prattle unsuspected. To +listen was an infinite assuagement, one that was overpoweringly sweet, +and for some moments she almost forgot. But she woke from her ecstacy in +deadly fear and great pain, for coming along the hedgerow the voice of a +man was heard, and the children ran away. And she ran too, like a +terrified fawn, trembling in every limb, and sick with fear she sped +across the meadows. The front door was open; she heard her father +calling. To see him she felt would be more than she could bear; she must +hide from his sight for ever, and dashing upstairs she double locked her +door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The sky was still flushed, there was light upon the sea, but the room +was dim and quiet. The room! Kitty had seen it under all aspects, she +had lived in it many years: then why does she look with strained eyes? +Why does she shrink? Nothing has been changed. There is her little +narrow bed, and her little bookcase full of novels and prayer-books; +there is her work-basket by the fireplace, by the fireplace closed in +with curtains that she herself embroidered; above her pillow there is a +crucifix; there are photographs of the Miss Austins, and pictures of +pretty children cut from the Christmas Numbers on the walls. She starts +at the sight of these familiar objects! She trembles in the room which +she thought of as a haven of refuge. Why does she grasp the rail of the +bed--why? She scarcely knows: something that is at once remembrance and +suspicion fills her mind. Is this her room? + +The thought ended. She walked hurriedly to and fro, and as she passed +the fuchsia in the window a blossom fell. + +She sat down and stared into dark space. She walked languidly and +purposelessly to the wardrobe. She stopped to pick a petal from the +carpet. The sound of the last door was over, the retiring footfall had +died away in the distance, the last voice was hushed; the moon was +shining on the sea. A lovely scene, silver and blue; but how the girl's +heart was beating! She sighed. + +She sighed as if she had forgotten, and approaching her bedside she +raised her hands to her neck. It was the instinctive movement of +undressing. Her hands dropped, she did not even unbutton her collar. She +could not. She resumed her walk, she picked up a blossom that had +fallen, she looked out on the pale white sea. There was moonlight now in +the room, a ghastly white spot was on the pillow. She was tired. The +moonlight called her. She lay down with her profile in the light. + +But there were smell and features in the glare--the odour was that of +the tramp's skin, the features--a long thin nose, pressed lips, small +eyes, a look of dull liquorish cruelty. And this presence was beside +her; she could not rid herself of it, she repulsed it with cries, but it +came again, and mocking, lay on the pillow. + +Horrible, too horrible! She sprang from the bed. Was there anyone in her +room? How still it was! The mysterious moonlight, the sea white as a +shroud, the sward so chill and death-like. What! Did it move? Was it he? +That fearsome shadow! Was she safe? Had they forgotten to bar up the +house? Her father's house! Horrible, too horrible, she must shut out +this treacherous light--darkness were better.... + + * * * * * + +The curtains are closed, but a ray glinting between the wall and curtain +shows her face convulsed. Something follows her: she knows not what, her +thoughts are monstrous and obtuse. She dares not look round, she would +turn to see if her pursuer is gaining upon her, but some invincible +power restrains her.... Agony! Her feet catch in, and she falls over +great leaves. She falls into the clefts of ruined tombs, and her hands +as she attempts to rise are laid on sleeping snakes--rattlesnakes: they +turn to attack her, and they glide away and disappear in moss and +inscriptions. O, the calm horror of this region! Before her the trees +extend in complex colonnades, silent ruins are grown through with giant +roots, and about the mysterious entrances of the crypts there lingers +yet the odour of ancient sacrifices. The stem of a rare column rises +amid the branches, the fragment of an arch hangs over and is supported +by a dismantled tree trunk. Ages ago the leaves fell, and withered; ages +ago; and now the skeleton arms, lifted in fantastic frenzy against the +desert skies, are as weird and symbolic as the hieroglyphics on the +tombs below. + +And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. + +Flowers hang on every side,--flowers as strange and as gorgeous as +Byzantine chalices; flowers narrow and fluted and transparent as long +Venetian glasses; opaque flowers bulging and coloured with gold devices +like Chinese vases, flowers striped with cinnamon and veined with azure; +a million flower-cups and flower chalices, and in these as in censers +strange and deadly perfumes are melting, and the heavy fumes descend +upon the girl, and they mix with the polluting odour of the ancient +sacrifices. She sinks, her arms are raised like those of a victim; she +sinks overcome, done to death or worse in some horrible asphyxiation. + +And through the torrid twilight of the approaching storm the cry of the +hyena is heard. His claws are upon the crumbling tombs. + +The suffocating girl utters a thin wail. The vulture pauses, and is +stationary on the white and desert skies. She strives with her last +strength to free herself from the thrall of the great lianas, and she +falls into fresh meshes.... The claws are heard amid the ruins, there is +a hirsute smell; she turns with terrified eyes to plead, but she meets +only the dull liquorish eyes, and the breath of the obscene animal is on +her face. + +Then she finds herself in the pleasure grounds of Thornby Place. There +are the evergreen oaks, there is the rosary flaring all its wealth of +red, purple, and white flowers, there is the park encircled by elms, +there is the vista filled in with the line of the lofty downs. For a +moment she is surprised, and fails to understand. Then she forgets the +change of place in new sensations of terror. For across the park +something is coming, she knows not what; it will pass her by. She +watches a brown and yellow serpent, cubits high. Cubits high. It rears +aloft its tawny hide, scenting its prey. The great coiling body, the +small head, small as a man's hand, the black beadlike eyes shine out +upon the intoxicating blue of the sky. The narrow long head, the fixed +black eyes are dull, inexorable desire, conscious of nothing beyond, and +only dimly conscious of itself. Will the snake pass by the hiding girl? +She rushes to meet it. What folly! She turns and flies. + +She takes refuge in the rosary. It follows her, gathering its immense +body into horrible and hideous heights. How will she save herself? She +will pluck roses, and build a wall between her and it. She collects huge +bouquets, armfuls of beautiful flowers, garlands and wreaths. The +flower-wall rises, and hoping to combat the fury of the beast with +purity, she goes to where beautiful and snowy blossoms grow in +clustering millions. She gathers them in haste; her arms and hands are +streaming with blood, but she pays no heed, and as the snake surmounts +one barricade, she builds another. But in vain. The reptile leans over +them all, and the sour dirty smell of the scaly hide befouls the odorous +breath of the roses. The long thin neck is upon her; she feels the +horrid strength of the coils as they curl and slip about her, drawing +her whole life into one knotted and loathsome embrace. And all the while +the roses fall in a red and white rain about her. And through the ruin +of the roses she escapes from the stench and the coils, and all the +while the snake pursues her even into the fountain. The waves and the +snake close about her. + +Then without any transition in place or time, she finds herself +listening to the sound of rippling water. There is an iron drinking cup +close to her hand. She seems to recognise the spot. It is Shoreham. +There are the streets she knows so well, the masts of the vessels, the +downs. But suddenly something darkens the sunlight, the tawny body of +the snake oscillates, the people cry to her to escape. She flies along +the streets, like the wind she seems to pass. She calls for help. +Sometimes the crowds are stationary as if frozen into stone, sometimes +they follow the snake and attack it with sticks and knives. One man with +colossal shoulders wields a great sabre; it flashes about him like +lightning. Will he kill it? He turns and chases a dog, and disappears. +The people too have disappeared. She is flying now along a wild plain +covered with coarse grass and wild poppies. When she glances behind her +she sees the outline of the little coast town, the snake is near her, +and there is no one to whom she can call for help. But the sea is in +front of her, bound like a blue sash about the cliff's edge. She will +escape down the rocks--there is still a chance! The descent is sheer, +but somehow she retains foothold. Then the snake drops, she feels his +weight upon her, and both fall, fall, fall, and the sea is below +them.... + + * * * * * + +With a shriek she sprang from the bed, and still under the influence of +the dream, rushed to the window. The moon hung over the sea, the sea +flowed with silver, the world was as chill as an icicle. + +"The roses, the snake, the cliff's edge, was it then only a dream?" the +girl thought. "It was only a dream, a terrible dream, but after all only +a dream!" In her hope breathes again, and she smiles like one who thinks +he is going to hear that he will not die, but as the old pain returns +when the last portion of the deceptive sentence is spoken, so despair +came back to her when remembrance pierced the cloud of hallucination, +and told her that all was not a dream--there was something that was +worse than a dream. + +She uttered a low cry, and she moaned. Centuries seemed to have passed, +and yet the evil deed remained. It was still night, but what would the +day bring to her? There was no hope. Abstract hope from life, and what +blank agony you create! + +She drew herself up on her bed, and lay with her face buried in the +pillow. For the face was beside her: the foul smell was in her nostrils, +and the dull, liquorish look of the eyes shone through the darkness. +Then sleep came again, and she lay stark and straight as if she were +dead, with the light of the moon upon her face. And she sees herself +dead. And all her friends are about her crowning her with flowers, +beautiful garlands of white roses, and dressing her in a long white +robe, white as the snowiest cloud in heaven, and it lies in long +straight plaits about her limbs like the robes of those who lie in +marble in cathedral aisles. And it falls over her feet, and her hands +are crossed over her breast, and all praise in low but ardent words the +excessive whiteness of the garment. For none sees but she that there is +a black spot upon the robe which they believe to be immaculate. And she +would warn them of their error, but she cannot; and when they avert +their faces to wipe away their tears, the stain might be easily seen, +but when they turn to continue the last offices, folds or flowers have +mysteriously fallen over the stain, and hide it from view. + +And it is great pain to her to feel herself thus unable to tell them of +their error, for she well knows that when she is placed in the tomb, and +the angels come, that they will not fail to perceive the stain, and +seeing it they will not fail to be shocked and sorrowful,--and seeing it +they will turn away weeping, saying, "She is not for us, alas, she is +not for us!" + +And Kitty, who is conscious of this fatal oversight, the results of +which she so clearly foresees, is grievously afflicted, and she makes +every effort to warn her friends of their error: but in vain, for there +appears to be one amid the mourners who knows that she is endeavouring +to announce to them the black stain, and this one whose face she cannot +readily distinguish, maliciously and with diabolical ingenuity withdraws +attention at the moment when it should fall upon it. + +And so it comes that she is buried in the stained robe, and she is +carried amid flowers and white cloths to a white marble tomb, where +incense is burning, and where the walls are hung with votive wreaths and +things commemorative of virginal life and its many lovelinesses. But, +strange to say, upon all these, upon the flowers and images alike there +is some small stain which none sees but she and the one in shadow, the +one whose face she cannot recognise. And although she is nailed fast in +her coffin, she sees these stains vividly, and the one whose face she +cannot recognise sees them too. And this is certain, for the shadow of +the face is sometimes stirred by a horrible laugh. + +The mourners go, the evening falls, and the wild sunset floats for a +while through the western Heavens; and the cemetery becomes a deep +green, and in the wind that blows out of Heaven, the cypresses rock like +things sad and mute. + +And the blue night comes with stars in her tresses, and out of those +stars a legion of angels float softly; their white feet hang out of the +blown folds, their wings are pointed to the stars. And from out of the +earth, out of the mist, but whence and how it is impossible to say, +there come other angels dark of hue and foul smelling. But the white +angels carry swords, and they wave these swords, and the scene is +reflected in them as in a mirror; and the dark angels cower in a corner +of the cemetery, but they do not utterly retire. + +And then the tomb is opened, and the white angels enter the tomb. And +the coffin is opened, and the girl trembles lest the angels should +discover the stain she knew of. But lo! to her great joy they do not see +it, and they bear her away through the blue night, past the sacred +stars, even within the glory of Paradise. And it is not until one whose +face she cannot recognize, and whose presence among the angels of +Heaven she cannot comprehend, steals away one of the garlands of white +with which she was entwined, that the fatal stain becomes visible. The +angels are overcome with a mighty sorrow, and relinquishing their +burden, they break into song, and the song they sing is one of grief; +and above an accompaniment of spheral music it travels through the +spaces of Heaven; and she listens to its wailing echoes as she falls, +falls,--falls past the sacred stars to the darkness of terrestrial +skies,--falls towards the sea where the dark angels are waiting for her; +and as she falls she leans with reverted neck and strives to see their +faces, and as she nears them she distinguishes one into whose arms she +is going; it is, it is--the... + + * * * * * + +"Save me, save me!" she cried; and bewildered and dazed with the dream, +she stared on the room, now chill with summer dawn; the pale light broke +over the Shoreham sea, over the lordly downs and rich plantations of +Leywood. Again she murmured, it was only a dream, it was only a dream; +again a sort of presentiment of happiness spread like light through her +mind, and again remembrance came with its cruel truths--there was +something that was not a dream, but that was worse than the dream. And +then with despair in her heart she sat watching the cold sky turn to +blue, the delicate bright blue of morning, and the garden grow into +yellow and purple and red. There lay the sea, joyous and sparkling in +the light of the mounting sun, and the masts of the vessels at anchor in +the long water way. The tapering masts were faint on the shiny sky, and +now between them and about them a face seemed to be. Sometimes it was +fixed on one, sometimes it flashed like a will o' the wisp, and appeared +a little to the right or left of where she had last seen it. It was the +face that was now buried in her very soul, and sometimes it passed out +of the sky into the morning mist, which still heaved about the edges of +the woods; and there she saw something grovelling, crouching, +crawling,--a wild beast, or was it a man? + +She did not weep, nor did she moan. She sat thinking. She dwelt on the +remembrance of the hills and the tramp with strange persistency, and yet +no more now than before did she attempt to come to conclusions with her +thought; it was vague, she would not define it; she brooded over it +sullenly and obtusely. Sometimes her thoughts slipped away from it, but +with each returning, a fresh stage was marked in the progress of her +nervous despair. + +So the hours went by. At eight o'clock the maid knocked at the door. +Kitty opened it mechanically, and she fell into the woman's arms, +weeping and sobbing passionately. The sight of the female face brought +infinite relief; it interrupted the jarred and strained sense of the +horrible; the secret affinities of sex quickened within her. The woman's +presence filled Kitty with the feelings that the harmlessness of a lamb +or a soft bird inspires. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"But what is it, Miss, what is it? Are you ill? Why, Miss, you haven't +taken your things off; you haven't been to bed." + +"No, I lay down.... I have had frightful dreams--that is all." + +"But you must be ill, Miss; you look dreadful, Miss. Shall I tell Mr +Hare? Perhaps the doctor had better be sent for." + +"No, no; pray say nothing about me. Tell my father that I did not sleep, +that I am going to lie down for a little while, that he is not to expect +me down for breakfast." + +"I really think, Miss, that it would be as well for you to see the +doctor." + +"No, no, no. I am going to lie down, and I am not to be disturbed." + +"Shall I fill the bath, Miss? Shall I leave hot water here, Miss?" + +"Bath.... Hot water...." Kitty repeated the words over as if she were +striving to grasp a meaning which was suggested, but which eluded her. +Then her face relaxed, the expression was one of pitiful despair, and +that expression gave way to a sense of nausea, expressed by a quick +contraction of the eyes. + +She listened to the splashing of the water, and its echoes were repeated +indefinably through her soul. + +The maid left the room. Kitty's attention was attracted to her dress. It +was torn, it was muddy, there were bits of furze sticking to it. She +picked these off, and slowly she commenced settling it: but as she did +so, remembrance, accurate and simple recollection of facts, returned to +her, and the succession was so complete that the effect was equivalent +to a re-enduring of the crime, and with a foreknowledge of it, as if to +sharpen its horror and increase the sense of the pollution. The lovely +hills, the engirdling sea, the sweet glow of evening--she saw it all +again. And as if afraid that her brain, now strained like a body on the +rack, would suddenly snap, she threw up her arms, and began to take off +her dress, as violently as if she would hush thought in abrupt +movements. In a moment she was in stays and petticoat. The delicate and +almost girlish arms were disfigured by great bruises. Great black and +blue stains were spreading through the skin. + +Kitty lifted up her arm: she looked at it in surprise; then in horror +she rushed to the door where her dressing gown was hanging, and wrapped +herself in it tightly, hid herself in it so that no bit of her flesh +could be seen. + +She threw herself madly on the bed. She moved, pressing herself against +the mattress as if she would rub away, free herself from her loathed +self. The sight of her hand was horrible to her, and she covered it over +hurriedly. + +The maid came up with a tray. The trivial jingle of the cups and plates +was another suffering added to the ever increasing stress of mind, and +now each memory was accompanied by sensations of physical sickness, of +nausea. + +She slipped from the bed and locked the door. Again she was alone. An +hour passed. + +Her father came up. His footsteps on the stairs caused her intolerable +anguish. On entering the house she had hated to hear his voice, and now +that hatred was intensified a thousandfold. His voice sounded in her +ears false, ominous, abominable. She could not have opened the door to +him, and the effort required to speak a few words, to say she was tired +and wished to be left alone, was so great that it almost cost her her +reason. It was a great relief to hear him go. She asked herself why she +hated to hear his voice, but before she could answer a sudden +recollection of the tramp sprang upon her. Her nostrils recalled the +smell, and her eyes saw the long, thin nose and the dull liquorish eyes +beside her on the pillow. + +She got up and walked about the room, and its appearance contrasted +with and aggravated the fierceness of the fever of passion and horror +that raged within her. The homeliness of the teacups and the plates, the +tin bath, painted yellow and white, so grotesque and so trim. + +But not its water nor even the waves of the great sea would wash away +remembrance. She pressed her face against the pane. The wide sea, so +peaceful, so serene! Oblivion, oblivion, O for the waters of oblivion! + +Then for an hour she almost forgot; sometimes she listened, and the +shrill singing of the canary was mixed with thoughts of her dead +brothers and sisters, of her mother. She was waked from her reveries by +the farm bell ringing the labourers' dinner hour. + +Night had been fearsome with darkness and dreams, but the genial +sunlight and the continuous externality of the daytime acted on her +mind, and turned vague thoughts, as it were, into sentences, printed in +clear type. She often thought she was dead, and she favoured this idea, +but she was never wholly dead. She was a lost soul wandering on those +desolate hills, the gloom descending, and Brighton and Southwick and +Shoreham and Worthing gleaming along the sea banks of a purple sea. +There were phantoms--there were two phantoms. One turned to reality, and +she walked by her lover's side, talking of Italy. Then he disappeared, +and she shrank from the horrible tramp; then both men grew confused in +her mind, and in despair she threw herself on her bed. Raising her eyes +she caught sight of her prayer-book, but she turned from it moaning, for +her misery was too deep for prayer. + +The lunch bell rang. She listened to the footsteps on the staircase; she +begged to be excused, and she refused to open the door. + +The day grew into afternoon. She awoke from a dreamless sleep of about +an hour, and still under its soothing influence, she pinned up her +hair, settled the ribbons of her dressing gown, and went downstairs. She +found her father and John in the drawing-room. + +"Oh, here is Kitty!" they exclaimed. + +"But what is the matter, dear? Why are you not dressed?" said Mr Hare. +"But what is the matter.... Are you ill?" said John, and he extended his +hand. + +"No, no, 'tis nothing," she replied, and avoiding the outstretched hand +with a shudder, she took the seat furthest away from her father and +lover. + +They looked at her in amazement, and she at them in fear and trembling. +She was conscious of two very distinct sensations--one the result of +reason, the other of madness. She was not ignorant of the causes of +each, although she was powerless to repress one in favour of the other. +Both struggled for mastery and for the moment without disturbing the +equipoise. On the side of reason she knew very well she was looking at +and talking to her dear, kind father, and that the young man sitting +next him was John Norton, the son of her dear friend, Mrs Norton; she +knew he was the young man who loved her, and whom she was going to +marry, marry, marry. On the other side she saw that her father's kind +benign countenance was not a real face, but a mask which he wore over +another face, and which, should the mask slip--and she prayed that it +might not--would prove as horrible and revolting as-- + +But the mask John wore was as nothing, it was the veriest make believe. +And she could not but doubt now but that the face she had known him so +long by was a fictitious face, and as the hallucination strengthened, +she saw his large mild eyes grow small, and that vague dreamy look +turn to the dull liquorish look, the chin came forward, the brows +contracted ... the large sinewy hands were, oh, so like! Then reason +asserted itself; the vision vanished, and she saw John Norton as she +had always seen him. + +But was she sure that she did? Yes, yes--she must not give way. But her +head seemed to be growing lighter, and she did not appear to be able to +judge things exactly as she should; a sort of new world seemed to be +slipping like a painted veil between her and the old. She must resist. + +John and Mr Hare looked at her. + +John at length rose, and advancing to her, said, "My dear Kitty, I am +afraid you are not well...." + +She strove to allow him to take her hand, but she could not overcome the +instinctive feeling which, against her will, caused her to shrink from +him. + +"Oh, don't come near me, I cannot bear it!" she cried, "don't come near +me, I beg of you." + +More than this she could not do, and giving way utterly, she shrieked +and rushed from the room. She rushed upstairs. She stood in the middle +of the floor listening to the silence, her thoughts falling about her +like shaken leaves. It was as if a thunderbolt had destroyed the world, +and left her alone in a desert. The furniture of the room, the bed, the +chairs, the books she loved, seemed to have become as grains of sand, +and she forgot all connection between them and herself. She pressed her +hands to her forehead, and strove to separate the horror that crowded +upon her. But all was now one horror--the lonely hills were in the room, +the grey sky, the green furze, the tramp; she was again fighting +furiously with him; and her lover and her father and all sense of the +world's life grew dark in the storm of madness. Suddenly she felt +something on her neck. She put her hand up ... + +And now with madness on her face she caught up a pair of scissors and +cut off her hair: one after the other the great tresses of gold and +brown fell, until the floor was strewn with them. + +A step was heard on the stairs; her quick ears caught the sound, and she +rushed to the door to lock it. But she was too late. John held it fast. + +"Kitty, Kitty," he cried, "for God's sake, tell me what is the matter!" + +"Save me! save me!" she cried, and she forced the door against him with +her whole strength. He was, however, determined on questioning her, on +seeing her, and he passed his head and shoulders into the room. His +heart quailed at the face he saw. + +For now had gone that imperceptible something which divides the life of +the sane from that of the insane, and he who had so long feared lest a +woman might soil the elegant sanctity of his life, disappeared forever +from the mind of her whom he had learned to love, and existed to her +only as the foul dull brute who had outraged her on the hills. + +"Save me, save me! help, help!" she cried, retreating from him. + +"Kitty, Kitty, what do you mean? Say, say--" + +"Save me; oh mercy, mercy! Let me go, and I will never say I saw you, I +will not tell anything. Let me go!" she cried, retreating towards the +window. + +"For Heaven's sake, Kitty, take care--the window, the window!" + +But Kitty heard nothing, knew nothing, was conscious of nothing but a +mad desire to escape. The window was lifted high--high above her head, +and her face distorted with fear, she stood amid the soft greenery of +the Virginia creeper. + +"Save me," she cried, "mercy, mercy!" + +"Kitty, Kitty darling!" + + * * * * * + +The white dress passed through the green leaves. John heard a dull thud. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +And the pity of it! The poor white thing lying like a shot dove, +bleeding, and the dreadful blood flowing over the red tiles.... + +Mr Hare was kneeling by his daughter when John, rushing forth, stopped +and stood aghast. + +"What is this? Say--speak, speak man, speak; how did this happen?" + +"I cannot say, I do not know; she did not seem to know me; she ran away. +Oh my God, I do not understand; she seemed as if afraid of me, and she +threw herself out of the window. But she is not dead ..." + +The word rang out in the silence, ruthlessly brutal in its significance. +Mr Hare looked up, his face a symbol of agony. "Oh, dead, how can you +speak so ..." + +John felt his being sink and fade like a breath, and then, conscious of +nothing, he helped to lift Kitty from the tiles. But it was her father +who carried her upstairs. The blood flowed from the terrible wound in +the head. Dripped. The walls were stained. When she was laid upon the +bed, the pillow was crimson; and the maid-servant coming in, strove to +staunch the wound with towels. Kitty did not move. + +Both men knew there was no hope. The maid-servant retired, and she did +not close the door, nor did she ask if the doctor should be sent for. +One man held the bed rail, looking at his dead daughter; the other sat +by the window. That one was John Norton. His brain was empty, everything +was far away. He saw things moving, moving, but they were all so far +away. He could not re-knit himself with the weft of life; the thread +that had made him part of it had been snapped, and he was left +struggling in space. He knew that Kitty had thrown herself out of the +window and was dead. The word shocked him a little, but there was no +sense of realisation to meet it. She had walked with him on the hills, +she had accompanied him as far as the burgh; she had waved her hand to +him before they walked quite out of each other's sight. They had been +speaking of Italy ... of Italy where they would have spent their +honeymoon. Now she was dead! There would be no honeymoon, no wife. How +unreal, how impossible it all did seem, and yet it was real, yes, real +enough. There she lay dead; here is her room, and there is her +book-case; there are the photographs of the Miss Austins, here is the +fuchsia with the pendent blossoms falling, and her canary is singing. +John glanced at the cage, and the song went to his brain, and he was +horrified, for there was no grief in his heart. + +Had he not loved her? Yes, he was sure of that; then why was there no +burning grief nor any tears? He envied the hard-sobbing father's grief, +the father who, prostrate by the bedside, held his dead daughter's hand, +and showed a face wild with fear--a face on which was printed so deeply +the terror of the soul's emotion, that John felt a supernatural awe +creep upon him; felt that his presence was a sort of sacrilege. He crept +downstairs. He went into the drawing-room, and looked about for the +place he had last seen her in. There it was.... There. But his eyes +wandered from the place, for it was there he had seen the startled face, +the half mad face which he had seen afterwards at the window, quite mad. + +On that sofa she usually sat; how often had he seen her sitting there! +And now he would not see her any more. And only three days ago she had +been sitting in the basket chair. How well he remembered her words, her +laughter, and now ... now; was it possible he never would hear her laugh +again? How frail a thing is human life, how shadow-like; one moment it +is here, the next it is gone. Here is her work-basket; and here the very +ball of wool which he had held for her to wind; and here is a novel +which she had lent to him, and which he had forgotten to take away. He +would never read it now; or perhaps he should read it in memory of her, +of her whom yesterday he parted with on the hills,--her little puritan +look, her external girlishness, her golden brown hair and the sudden +laugh so characteristic of her.... She had lent him this book--she who +was now but clay; she who was to have been his wife. His wife! The +thought struck him. Now he would never have a wife. What was there for +him to do? To turn his house into a Gothic monastery, and himself into a +monk. Very horrible and very bitter in its sheer grotesqueness was the +thought. It was as if in one moment he saw the whole of his life +summarised in a single symbol, and understood its vanity and its folly. +Ah, there was nothing for him, no wife, no life.... The tears welled up +in his eyes; the shock which in its suddenness had frozen his heart, +began to thaw, and grief fell like a penetrating rain. + +We learn to suffer as we learn to love, and it is not to-day, nor yet +to-morrow, but in weeks and months to come, and by slow degrees, that +John Norton will understand the irreparableness of his loss. There is a +man upstairs who crouches like stone by his dead daughter's side; he is +motionless and pale as the dead, he is as great in his grief as an +expression of grief by Michael Angelo. The hours pass, he is unconscious +of them; he sees not the light dying on the sea, he hears not the +trilling of the canary. He knows of nothing but his dead child, and +that the world would be nothing to give to have her speak to him once +again. His is the humblest and the worthiest sorrow, but such sorrow +cannot affect John Norton. He has dreamed too much and reflected too +much on the meaning of life; his suffering is too original in himself, +too self-centred, and at the same time too much, based on the inherent +misery of existence, to allow him to project himself into and suffer +with any individual grief, no matter how nearly it might be allied +to him and to his personal interest. He knew his weakness in this +direction, and now he gladly welcomed the coming of grief, for indeed +he had felt not a little shocked at the aridness of his heart, and +frightened lest his eyes should remain dry even to the end. + +Suddenly he remembered that the Miss Austins had said that they would +call to-morrow early for Kitty, to take her to Leywood to lunch.... They +were going to have some tennis in the afternoon. He too was expected +there. They must be told what had occurred. It would be terrible if they +came calling for Kitty under her window, and she lying dead! This slight +incident in the tragedy wrung his heart, and the effort of putting the +facts upon paper brought the truth home to him, and lured and led him to +see down the lifelong range of consequences. The doctor too, he thought, +must be warned of what had happened. And with the letter telling the sad +story in his hand, and illimitable sorrow in his soul, he went out in +the evening air. It was just such an evening as yester evening--a little +softer, a little lovelier, perhaps; earth, sea, and sky appeared like an +exquisite vision upon whose lips there is fragrance, yet in whose eyes a +glow of passion still survives. + +The beauty of the last hour of light is upon that crescent of sea, and +the ships loll upon the long strand, the tapering masts and slacking +ropes vanish upon the pallid sky. There is the old town, dusty, and +dreamy, and brown, with neglected wharfs and quays; there is the new +town, vulgar and fresh with green paint and trees, and looking hungrily +on the broad lands of the Squire, the broad lands and the rich woods +which rise up the hill side to the barn on the limit of the downs. How +beautiful the great green woods look as they sweep up a small expanse of +the downs, like a wave over a slope of sand. And there is a house with +red gables where the girls are still on the tennis lawn. John walked +through the town; he told the doctor he must go at once to the rectory. +He walked to Leywood and left his letter with the lodge-keeper; and +then, as if led by a strange fascination, he passed through the farm +gate and set out to return home across the hills. + +"She was here with me yesterday; how beautiful she looked, and how +graceful were her laughter and speech," he said, turning suddenly and +looking down on the landscape; on the massy trees contrasting with the +walls of the town, the spine-like bridge crossing the marshy shore, the +sails of the mill turning over the crest of the hill. The night was +falling fast, as a blue veil it hung down over the sea, but the deep +pure sky seemed in one spot to grow clear, and suddenly the pale moon +shone and shimmered upon the sea. The landscape gained in loveliness, +the sheep seemed like phantoms, the solitary barns like monsters of the +night. And the hills were like giants sleeping, and the long outlines +were prolonged far away into the depths and mistiness of space. Turning +again and looking through a vista in the hills, John could see Brighton, +a pale cloud of fire, set by the moon-illumined sea, and nearer was +Southwick, grown into separate lines of light, that wandered into and +lost themselves among the outlying hollows of the hills; and below him +and in front of him Shoreham lay, a blaze of living fire, a thousand +lights; lights everywhere save in one gloomy spot, and there John knew +that his beloved was lying dead. And further away, past the shadowy +marshy shores, was Worthing, the palest of nebulae in these earthly +constellations; and overhead the stars of heaven shone as if in pitiless +disdain. The blown hawthorn bush that stands by the burgh leaned out, a +ship sailed slowly across the rays of the moon. Yesterday they parted +here in the glad golden sunlight, parted for ever, for ever. + +"Yesterday I had all things--a sweet wife and happy youthful days to +look forward to. To-day I have nothing; all my hopes are shattered, all +my illusions have fallen. So is it always with him who places his trust +in life. Ah, life, life, what hast thou for giving save cruel deceptions +and miserable wrongs? Ah, why did I leave my life of contemplation and +prayer to enter into that of desire.... Ah, I knew, well I knew there +was no happiness save in calm and contemplation. Ah, well I knew; and +she is gone, gone, gone!" + +We suffer differently indeed, but we suffer equally. The death of his +sweetheart forces one man to reflect anew on the slightness of life's +pleasures and the depth of life's griefs. In the peaceful valley of +natural instincts and affections he had slept for a while, now he awoke +on one of the high peaks lit with the rays of intense consciousness, +and he cried aloud, and withdrew in terror at a too vivid realisation of +self. The other man wept for the daughter that had gone out of his life, +wept for her pretty face and cheerful laughter, wept for her love, wept +for the years he would live without her. We know which sorrow is the +manliest, which appeals to our sympathy, but who can measure the depth +of John Norton's suffering? It was as vast as the night, cold as the +stream of moonlit sea. + +He did not arrive home till late, and having told his mother what had +happened, he instantly retired to his room. Dreams followed him. The +hills were in his dreams. There were enemies there; he was often pursued +by savages, and he often saw Kitty captured; nor could he ever evade +their wandering vigilance and release her. Again and again he awoke, and +remembered that she was dead. + +Next morning John and Mrs Norton drove to the rectory, and without +asking for Mr Hare, they went up to _her_ room. The windows were open, +and Annie and Mary Austin sat by the bedside watching. The blood had +been washed out of the beautiful hair, and she lay very white and fair +amid the roses her friends had brought her. She lay as she had lain in +one of her terrible dreams--quite still, the slender body covered by a +sheet, moulding it with sculptured delight and love. From the feet the +linen curved and marked the inflections of the knees; there were long +flowing folds, low-lying like the wash of retiring water; the rounded +shoulders, the neck, the calm and bloodless face, the little nose, and +the beautiful drawing of the nostrils, the extraordinary waxen pallor, +the eyelids laid like rose leaves upon the eyes that death has closed +for ever. Within the arm, in the pale hand extended, a great Eucharis +lily had been laid, its carved blossoms bloomed in unchanging stillness, +and the whole scene was like a sad dream in the whitest marble. + +Candles were burning, and the soft smell of wax mixed with the perfume +of the roses. For there were roses everywhere--great snowy bouquets, and +long lines of scattered blossoms, and single roses there and here, and +petals fallen and falling were as tears shed for the beautiful dead, and +the white flowerage vied with the pallor and the immaculate stillness of +the dead. + +The calm chastity, the lonely loveliness, so sweetly removed from taint +of passion, struck John with all the emotion of art. He reproached +himself for having dreamed of her rather as a wife than as a sister, and +then all art and all conscience went down as a broken wreck in the wild +washing sea of deep human love: he knelt by her bedside, and sobbed +piteously, a man whose life is broken. + +When they next saw her she was in her coffin. It was almost full of +white blossoms--jasmine, Eucharis lilies, white roses, and in the midst +of the flowers you saw the hands folded, and the face was veiled with +some delicate filmy handkerchief. + +For the funeral there were crosses and wreaths of white flowers, roses +and stephanotis. And the Austin girls and their cousins who had come +from Brighton and Worthing carried loose flowers. How black and sad, how +homely and humble they seemed. Down the short drive, through the iron +gate, through the farm gate, the bearers staggering a little under the +weight of lead, the little cortege passed two by two. A broken-hearted +lover, a grief-stricken father, and a dozen sweet girls, their eyes and +cheeks streaming with tears. Kitty, their girl-friend was dead, dead, +dead! The words rang in their hearts in answer to the mournful tolling +of the bell. The little by-way along which they went, the little green +path leading over the hill, under trees shot through and through with +the whiteness of summer seas, was strewn with blossoms fallen from the +bier and the dolent fingers of the weeping girls. + +The old church was all in white; great lilies in vases, wreaths of +stephanotis; and, above all, roses--great garlands of white roses had +been woven, and they hung along and across. A blossom fell, a sob +sounded in the stillness; and how trivial it all seemed, and how +impotent to assuage the bitter burning of human sorrow: how paltry and +circumscribed the old grey church, with its little graveyard full of +forgotten griefs and aspirations! This hour of beautiful sorrow and +roses, how long will it be remembered? The coffin sinks out of sight, +out of sight for ever, a snow-drift of delicate bloom descending into +the earth. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +From the Austin girls, whose eyes followed him, from Mr Hare, from Mrs +Norton, John wandered sorrowfully away,--he wandered through the green +woods and fields into the town. He stood by the railway gates. He saw +the people coming and going in and out of the public houses; and he +watched the trains that whizzed past, and he understood nothing, not +even why the great bar of the white gate did not yield beneath the +pressure of his hands; and in the great vault of the blue sky, white +clouds melted and faded to sheeny visions of paradise, to a white form +with folded wings, and eyes whose calm was immortality.... + +A train stopped. He took a ticket and went to Brighton. As they +steamed along a high embankment, he found himself looking into a +little suburban cemetery. The graves, the yews, the sharp church spire +touching the range of the hills. _Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust +to dust_, and the dread responsive rattle given back by the coffin lid. +He watched the group in the distant corner, and its very remoteness and +removal from his personal knowledge and concern, moved him to passionate +grief and tears.... + +He walked through the southern sunlight of the town to the long expanse +of sea. The mundane pier is taut and trim, and gay with the clangour +of the band, the brown sails of the fishing boats wave in the translucid +greens of water; and the white field of the sheer cliff, and all the +roofs, gables, spires, balconies, and the green of the verandahs are +exquisitely indicated and elusive in the bright air; and the beach +is strange with acrobats and comic songs, nursemaids lying on the +pebbles reading novels, children with their clothes tied tightly about +them building sand castles zealously; see the lengthy crowd of +promenaders--out of its ranks two little spots of mauve come running +to meet the advancing wave, and now they fly back again, and now they +come again frolicking like butterflies, as gay and as bright. + +Under the impulse of his ravening grief, John watched the spectacle +of the world's forgetfulness, and the seeming obscenity horrified him +even to the limits of madness. He cried that it might pass from him. +Solitude--the solemn peace of the hills, the appealing silence of a +pine wood at even; how holy is the idea of solitude, find it where you +will. The Gothic pile, the apostles and saints of the windows, the deep +purples and crimsons, and the sunlight streaming through, and the +pathetic responses and the majesty of the organ do not take away, but +enhance and affirm the sensation of idea and God. The quiet rooms +austere with Latin and crucifix; John could see them. Fondly he allowed +these fancies to linger, but through the dream a sense of reality began +to grow, and he remembered the narrowness of the life, when viewed from +the material side, and its necessary promiscuousness, and he thought +with horror of the impossibility of the preservation of that personal +life, with all its sanctuary-like intensity, which was so dear to him. +He waved away all thought of priesthood, and walking quickly down the +pier, looking on the gay panorama of town and beach, he said, "The +world shall be my monastery." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MERE ACCIDENT*** + + +******* This file should be named 11733.txt or 11733.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/3/11733 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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