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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + +A Pair of Blue Eyes + +by Thomas Hardy + + + + 'A violet in the youth of primy nature, + Forward, not permanent, sweet not lasting, + The perfume and suppliance of a minute; + No more.' + + + +PREFACE + +The following chapters were written at a time when the craze for +indiscriminate church-restoration had just reached the remotest +nooks of western England, where the wild and tragic features of +the coast had long combined in perfect harmony with the crude +Gothic Art of the ecclesiastical buildings scattered along it, +throwing into extraordinary discord all architectural attempts at +newness there. To restore the grey carcases of a mediaevalism +whose spirit had fled, seemed a not less incongruous act than to +set about renovating the adjoining crags themselves. + +Hence it happened that an imaginary history of three human hearts, +whose emotions were not without correspondence with these material +circumstances, found in the ordinary incidents of such church- +renovations a fitting frame for its presentation. + +The shore and country about 'Castle Boterel' is now getting well +known, and will be readily recognized. The spot is, I may add, +the furthest westward of all those convenient corners wherein I +have ventured to erect my theatre for these imperfect little +dramas of country life and passions; and it lies near to, or no +great way beyond, the vague border of the Wessex kingdom on that +side, which, like the westering verge of modern American +settlements, was progressive and uncertain. + +This, however, is of little importance. The place is pre- +eminently (for one person at least) the region of dream and +mystery. The ghostly birds, the pall-like sea, the frothy wind, +the eternal soliloquy of the waters, the bloom of dark purple +cast, that seems to exhale from the shoreward precipices, in +themselves lend to the scene an atmosphere like the twilight of a +night vision. + +One enormous sea-bord cliff in particular figures in the +narrative; and for some forgotten reason or other this cliff was +described in the story as being without a name. Accuracy would +require the statement to be that a remarkable cliff which +resembles in many points the cliff of the description bears a name +that no event has made famous. + + T. H. +March 1899 + + + + THE PERSONS + + ELFRIDE SWANCOURT a young Lady + CHRISTOPHER SWANCOURT a Clergyman + STEPHEN SMITH an Architect + HENRY KNIGHT a Reviewer and Essayist + CHARLOTTE TROYTON a rich Widow + GERTRUDE JETHWAY a poor Widow + SPENSER HUGO LUXELLIAN a Peer + LADY LUXELLIAN his Wife + MARY AND KATE two little Girls + WILLIAM WORM a dazed Factotum + JOHN SMITH a Master-mason + JANE SMITH his Wife + MARTIN CANNISTER a Sexton + UNITY a Maid-servant + +Other servants, masons, labourers, grooms, nondescripts, etc., etc. + + +THE SCENE +Mostly on the outskirts of Lower Wessex. + + + +Chapter I + +'A fair vestal, throned in the west' + + +Elfride Swancourt was a girl whose emotions lay very near the +surface. Their nature more precisely, and as modified by the +creeping hours of time, was known only to those who watched the +circumstances of her history. + +Personally, she was the combination of very interesting +particulars, whose rarity, however, lay in the combination itself +rather than in the individual elements combined. As a matter of +fact, you did not see the form and substance of her features when +conversing with her; and this charming power of preventing a +material study of her lineaments by an interlocutor, originated +not in the cloaking effect of a well-formed manner (for her manner +was childish and scarcely formed), but in the attractive crudeness +of the remarks themselves. She had lived all her life in +retirement--the monstrari gigito of idle men had not flattered +her, and at the age of nineteen or twenty she was no further on in +social consciousness than an urban young lady of fifteen. + +One point in her, however, you did notice: that was her eyes. In +them was seen a sublimation of all of her; it was not necessary to +look further: there she lived. + +These eyes were blue; blue as autumn distance--blue as the blue we +see between the retreating mouldings of hills and woody slopes on +a sunny September morning. A misty and shady blue, that had no +beginning or surface, and was looked INTO rather than AT. + +As to her presence, it was not powerful; it was weak. Some women +can make their personality pervade the atmosphere of a whole +banqueting hall; Elfride's was no more pervasive than that of a +kitten. + +Elfride had as her own the thoughtfulness which appears in the +face of the Madonna della Sedia, without its rapture: the warmth +and spirit of the type of woman's feature most common to the +beauties--mortal and immortal--of Rubens, without their insistent +fleshiness. The characteristic expression of the female faces of +Correggio--that of the yearning human thoughts that lie too deep +for tears--was hers sometimes, but seldom under ordinary +conditions. + +The point in Elfride Swancourt's life at which a deeper current +may be said to have permanently set in, was one winter afternoon +when she found herself standing, in the character of hostess, face +to face with a man she had never seen before--moreover, looking at +him with a Miranda-like curiosity and interest that she had never +yet bestowed on a mortal. + +On this particular day her father, the vicar of a parish on the +sea-swept outskirts of Lower Wessex, and a widower, was suffering +from an attack of gout. After finishing her household +supervisions Elfride became restless, and several times left the +room, ascended the staircase, and knocked at her father's chamber- +door. + +'Come in!' was always answered in a hearty out-of-door voice from +the inside. + +'Papa,' she said on one occasion to the fine, red-faced, handsome +man of forty, who, puffing and fizzing like a bursting bottle, lay +on the bed wrapped in a dressing-gown, and every now and then +enunciating, in spite of himself, about one letter of some word or +words that were almost oaths; 'papa, will you not come downstairs +this evening?' She spoke distinctly: he was rather deaf. + +'Afraid not--eh-hh !--very much afraid I shall not, Elfride. +Piph-ph-ph! I can't bear even a handkerchief upon this deuced toe +of mine, much less a stocking or slipper--piph-ph-ph! There 'tis +again! No, I shan't get up till to-morrow.' + +'Then I hope this London man won't come; for I don't know what I +should do, papa.' + +'Well, it would be awkward, certainly.' + +'I should hardly think he would come to-day.' + +'Why?' + +'Because the wind blows so.' + +'Wind! What ideas you have, Elfride! Who ever heard of wind +stopping a man from doing his business? The idea of this toe of +mine coming on so suddenly!...If he should come, you must send him +up to me, I suppose, and then give him some food and put him to +bed in some way. Dear me, what a nuisance all this is!' + +'Must he have dinner?' + +'Too heavy for a tired man at the end of a tedious journey.' + +'Tea, then?' + +'Not substantial enough.' + +'High tea, then? There is cold fowl, rabbit-pie, some pasties, and +things of that kind.' + +'Yes, high tea.' + +'Must I pour out his tea, papa?' + +'Of course; you are the mistress of the house.' + +'What! sit there all the time with a stranger, just as if I knew +him, and not anybody to introduce us?' + +'Nonsense, child, about introducing; you know better than that. A +practical professional man, tired and hungry, who has been +travelling ever since daylight this morning, will hardly be +inclined to talk and air courtesies to-night. He wants food and +shelter, and you must see that he has it, simply because I am +suddenly laid up and cannot. There is nothing so dreadful in +that, I hope? You get all kinds of stuff into your head from +reading so many of those novels.' + +'Oh no; there is nothing dreadful in it when it becomes plainly a +case of necessity like this. But, you see, you are always there +when people come to dinner, even if we know them; and this is some +strange London man of the world, who will think it odd, perhaps.' + +'Very well; let him.' + +'Is he Mr. Hewby's partner?' + +'I should scarcely think so: he may be.' + +'How old is he, I wonder?' + +'That I cannot tell. You will find the copy of my letter to Mr. +Hewby, and his answer, upon the table in the study. You may read +them, and then you'll know as much as I do about our visitor.' + +'I have read them.' + +'Well, what's the use of asking questions, then? They contain all +I know. Ugh-h-h!...Od plague you, you young scamp! don't put +anything there! I can't bear the weight of a fly.' + +'Oh, I am sorry, papa. I forgot; I thought you might be cold,' +she said, hastily removing the rug she had thrown upon the feet of +the sufferer; and waiting till she saw that consciousness of her +offence had passed from his face, she withdrew from the room, and +retired again downstairs. + + + +Chapter II + +'Twas on the evening of a winter's day.' + + +When two or three additional hours had merged +the same afternoon in evening, some moving outlines might have +been observed against the sky on the summit of a wild lone hill in +that district. They circumscribed two men, having at present the +aspect of silhouettes, sitting in a dog-cart and pushing along in +the teeth of the wind. Scarcely a solitary house or man had been +visible along the whole dreary distance of open country they were +traversing; and now that night had begun to fall, the faint +twilight, which still gave an idea of the landscape to their +observation, was enlivened by the quiet appearance of the planet +Jupiter, momentarily gleaming in intenser brilliancy in front of +them, and by Sirius shedding his rays in rivalry from his position +over their shoulders. The only lights apparent on earth were some +spots of dull red, glowing here and there upon the distant hills, +which, as the driver of the vehicle gratuitously remarked to the +hirer, were smouldering fires for the consumption of peat and +gorse-roots, where the common was being broken up for agricultural +purposes. The wind prevailed with but little abatement from its +daytime boisterousness, three or four small clouds, delicate and +pale, creeping along under the sky southward to the Channel. + +Fourteen of the sixteen miles intervening between the railway +terminus and the end of their journey had been gone over, when +they began to pass along the brink of a valley some miles in +extent, wherein the wintry skeletons of a more luxuriant +vegetation than had hitherto surrounded them proclaimed an +increased richness of soil, which showed signs of far more careful +enclosure and management than had any slopes they had yet passed. +A little farther, and an opening in the elms stretching up from +this fertile valley revealed a mansion. + +'That's Endelstow House, Lord Luxellian's,' said the driver. + +'Endelstow House, Lord Luxellian's,' repeated the other +mechanically. He then turned himself sideways, and keenly +scrutinized the almost invisible house with an interest which the +indistinct picture itself seemed far from adequate to create. +'Yes, that's Lord Luxellian's,' he said yet again after a while, +as he still looked in the same direction. + +'What, be we going there?' + +'No; Endelstow Vicarage, as I have told you.' + +'I thought you m't have altered your mind, sir, as ye have stared +that way at nothing so long.' + +'Oh no; I am interested in the house, that's all.' + +'Most people be, as the saying is.' + +'Not in the sense that I am.' + +'Oh!...Well, his family is no better than my own, 'a b'lieve.' + +'How is that?' + +'Hedgers and ditchers by rights. But once in ancient times one of +'em, when he was at work, changed clothes with King Charles the +Second, and saved the king's life. King Charles came up to him +like a common man, and said off-hand, "Man in the smock-frock, my +name is Charles the Second, and that's the truth on't. Will you +lend me your clothes?" "I don't mind if I do," said Hedger +Luxellian; and they changed there and then. "Now mind ye," King +Charles the Second said, like a common man, as he rode away, "if +ever I come to the crown, you come to court, knock at the door, +and say out bold, 'Is King Charles the Second at home?' Tell your +name, and they shall let you in, and you shall be made a lord." +Now, that was very nice of Master Charley?' + +'Very nice indeed.' + +'Well, as the story is, the king came to the throne; and some +years after that, away went Hedger Luxellian, knocked at the +king's door, and asked if King Charles the Second was in. "No, he +isn't," they said. "Then, is Charles the Third?" said Hedger +Luxellian. "Yes," said a young feller standing by like a common +man, only he had a crown on, "my name is Charles the Third." And----' + +'I really fancy that must be a mistake. I don't recollect +anything in English history about Charles the Third,' said the +other in a tone of mild remonstrance. + +'Oh, that's right history enough, only 'twasn't prented; he was +rather a queer-tempered man, if you remember.' + +'Very well; go on.' + +'And, by hook or by crook, Hedger Luxellian was made a lord, and +everything went on well till some time after, when he got into a +most terrible row with King Charles the Fourth + +'I can't stand Charles the Fourth. Upon my word, that's too +much.' + +'Why? There was a George the Fourth, wasn't there?' + +'Certainly.' + +'Well, Charleses be as common as Georges. However I'll say no +more about it....Ah, well! 'tis the funniest world ever I lived +in--upon my life 'tis. Ah, that such should be!' + +The dusk had thickened into darkness while they thus conversed, +and the outline and surface of the mansion gradually disappeared. +The windows, which had before been as black blots on a lighter +expanse of wall, became illuminated, and were transfigured to +squares of light on the general dark body of the night landscape +as it absorbed the outlines of the edifice into its gloomy +monochrome. + +Not another word was spoken for some time, and they climbed a +hill, then another hill piled on the summit of the first. An +additional mile of plateau followed, from which could be discerned +two light-houses on the coast they were nearing, reposing on the +horizon with a calm lustre of benignity. Another oasis was +reached; a little dell lay like a nest at their feet, towards +which the driver pulled the horse at a sharp angle, and descended +a steep slope which dived under the trees like a rabbit's burrow. +They sank lower and lower. + +'Endelstow Vicarage is inside here,' continued the man with the +reins. 'This part about here is West Endelstow; Lord Luxellian's +is East Endelstow, and has a church to itself. Pa'son Swancourt +is the pa'son of both, and bobs backward and forward. Ah, well! +'tis a funny world. 'A b'lieve there was once a quarry where this +house stands. The man who built it in past time scraped all the +glebe for earth to put round the vicarage, and laid out a little +paradise of flowers and trees in the soil he had got together in +this way, whilst the fields he scraped have been good for nothing +ever since.' + +'How long has the present incumbent been here?' + +'Maybe about a year, or a year and half: 'tisn't two years; for +they don't scandalize him yet; and, as a rule, a parish begins to +scandalize the pa'son at the end of two years among 'em familiar. +But he's a very nice party. Ay, Pa'son Swancourt knows me pretty +well from often driving over; and I know Pa'son Swancourt.' + +They emerged from the bower, swept round in a curve, and the +chimneys and gables of the vicarage became darkly visible. Not a +light showed anywhere. They alighted; the man felt his way into +the porch, and rang the bell. + +At the end of three or four minutes, spent in patient waiting +without hearing any sounds of a response, the stranger advanced +and repeated the call in a more decided manner. He then fancied +he heard footsteps in the hall, and sundry movements of the door- +knob, but nobody appeared. + +'Perhaps they beant at home,' sighed the driver. 'And I promised +myself a bit of supper in Pa'son Swancourt's kitchen. Sich lovely +mate-pize and figged keakes, and cider, and drops o' cordial that +they do keep here!' + +'All right, naibours! Be ye rich men or be ye poor men, that ye +must needs come to the world's end at this time o' night?' +exclaimed a voice at this instant; and, turning their heads, they +saw a rickety individual shambling round from the back door with a +horn lantern dangling from his hand. + +'Time o' night, 'a b'lieve! and the clock only gone seven of 'em. +Show a light, and let us in, William Worm.' + +'Oh, that you, Robert Lickpan?' + +'Nobody else, William Worm.' + +'And is the visiting man a-come?' + +'Yes,' said the stranger. 'Is Mr. Swancourt at home?' + +'That 'a is, sir. And would ye mind coming round by the back way? +The front door is got stuck wi' the wet, as he will do sometimes; +and the Turk can't open en. I know I am only a poor wambling man +that 'ill never pay the Lord for my making, sir; but I can show +the way in, sir.' + +The new arrival followed his guide through a little door in a +wall, and then promenaded a scullery and a kitchen, along which he +passed with eyes rigidly fixed in advance, an inbred horror of +prying forbidding him to gaze around apartments that formed the +back side of the household tapestry. Entering the hall, he was +about to be shown to his room, when from the inner lobby of the +front entrance, whither she had gone to learn the cause of the +delay, sailed forth the form of Elfride. Her start of amazement +at the sight of the visitor coming forth from under the stairs +proved that she had not been expecting this surprising flank +movement, which had been originated entirely by the ingenuity of +William Worm. + +She appeared in the prettiest of all feminine guises, that is to +say, in demi-toilette, with plenty of loose curly hair tumbling +down about her shoulders. An expression of uneasiness pervaded +her countenance; and altogether she scarcely appeared woman enough +for the situation. The visitor removed his hat, and the first +words were spoken; Elfride prelusively looking with a deal of +interest, not unmixed with surprise, at the person towards whom +she was to do the duties of hospitality. + +'I am Mr. Smith,' said the stranger in a musical voice. + +'I am Miss Swancourt,' said Elfride. + +Her constraint was over. The great contrast between the reality +she beheld before her, and the dark, taciturn, sharp, elderly man +of business who had lurked in her imagination--a man with clothes +smelling of city smoke, skin sallow from want of sun, and talk +flavoured with epigram--was such a relief to her that Elfride +smiled, almost laughed, in the new-comer's face. + +Stephen Smith, who has hitherto been hidden from us by the +darkness, was at this time of his life but a youth in appearance, +and barely a man in years. Judging from his look, London was the +last place in the world that one would have imagined to be the +scene of his activities: such a face surely could not be nourished +amid smoke and mud and fog and dust; such an open countenance +could never even have seen anything of 'the weariness, the fever, +and the fret' of Babylon the Second. + +His complexion was as fine as Elfride's own; the pink of his +cheeks as delicate. His mouth as perfect as Cupid's bow in form, +and as cherry-red in colour as hers. Bright curly hair; bright +sparkling blue-gray eyes; a boy's blush and manner; neither +whisker nor moustache, unless a little light-brown fur on his +upper lip deserved the latter title: this composed the London +professional man, the prospect of whose advent had so troubled +Elfride. + +Elfride hastened to say she was sorry to tell him that Mr. +Swancourt was not able to receive him that evening, and gave the +reason why. Mr. Smith replied, in a voice boyish by nature and +manly by art, that he was very sorry to hear this news; but that +as far as his reception was concerned, it did not matter in the +least. + +Stephen was shown up to his room. In his absence Elfride +stealthily glided into her father's. + +'He's come, papa. Such a young man for a business man!' + +'Oh, indeed!' + +'His face is--well--PRETTY; just like mine.' + +'H'm! what next?' + +'Nothing; that's all I know of him yet. It is rather nice, is it +not?' + +'Well, we shall see that when we know him better. Go down and +give the poor fellow something to eat and drink, for Heaven's +sake. And when he has done eating, say I should like to have a +few words with him, if he doesn't mind coming up here.' + +The young lady glided downstairs again, and whilst she awaits +young Smith's entry, the letters referring to his visit had better +be given. + + +1.--MR. SWANCOURT TO MR. HEWBY. + + 'ENDELSTOW VICARAGE, Feb. 18, 18--. + +'SIR,--We are thinking of restoring the tower and aisle of the +church in this parish; and Lord Luxellian, the patron of the +living, has mentioned your name as that of a trustworthy architect +whom it would be desirable to ask to superintend the work. + +'I am exceedingly ignorant of the necessary preliminary steps. +Probably, however, the first is that (should you be, as Lord +Luxellian says you are, disposed to assist us) yourself or some +member of your staff come and see the building, and report +thereupon for the satisfaction of parishioners and others. + +'The spot is a very remote one: we have no railway within fourteen +miles; and the nearest place for putting up at--called a town, +though merely a large village--is Castle Boterel, two miles +further on; so that it would be most convenient for you to stay at +the vicarage--which I am glad to place at your disposal--instead +of pushing on to the hotel at Castle Boterel, and coming back +again in the morning. + +'Any day of the next week that you like to name for the visit will +find us quite ready to receive you.--Yours very truly, CHRISTOPHER +SWANCOURT. + + +2.--MR. HEWBY TO MR. SWANCOURT. + + "PERCY PLACE, CHARING CROSS, Feb. 20, 18--. + +'DEAR SIR,--Agreeably to your request of the 18th instant, I have +arranged to survey and make drawings of the aisle and tower of +your parish church, and of the dilapidations which have been +suffered to accrue thereto, with a view to its restoration. + +'My assistant, Mr. Stephen Smith, will leave London by the early +train to-morrow morning for the purpose. Many thanks for your +proposal to accommodate him. He will take advantage of your +offer, and will probably reach your house at some hour of the +evening. You may put every confidence in him, and may rely upon +his discernment in the matter of church architecture. + +'Trusting that the plans for the restoration, which I shall +prepare from the details of his survey, will prove satisfactory to +yourself and Lord Luxellian, I am, dear sir, yours faithfully, +WALTER HEWBY.' + + + +Chapter III + +'Melodious birds sing madrigals' + + +That first repast in Endelstow Vicarage was a very agreeable one +to young Stephen Smith. The table was spread, as Elfride had +suggested to her father, with the materials for the heterogeneous +meal called high tea--a class of refection welcome to all when +away from men and towns, and particularly attractive to youthful +palates. The table was prettily decked with winter flowers and +leaves, amid which the eye was greeted by chops, chicken, pie, +&c., and two huge pasties overhanging the sides of the dish with a +cheerful aspect of abundance. + +At the end, towards the fireplace, appeared the tea-service, of +old-fashioned Worcester porcelain, and behind this arose the +slight form of Elfride, attempting to add matronly dignity to the +movement of pouring out tea, and to have a weighty and concerned +look in matters of marmalade, honey, and clotted cream. Having +made her own meal before he arrived, she found to her +embarrassment that there was nothing left for her to do but talk +when not assisting him. She asked him if he would excuse her +finishing a letter she had been writing at a side-table, and, +after sitting down to it, tingled with a sense of being grossly +rude. However, seeing that he noticed nothing personally wrong in +her, and that he too was embarrassed when she attentively watched +his cup to refill it, Elfride became better at ease; and when +furthermore he accidentally kicked the leg of the table, and then +nearly upset his tea-cup, just as schoolboys did, she felt herself +mistress of the situation, and could talk very well. In a few +minutes ingenuousness and a common term of years obliterated all +recollection that they were strangers just met. Stephen began to +wax eloquent on extremely slight experiences connected with his +professional pursuits; and she, having no experiences to fall back +upon, recounted with much animation stories that had been related +to her by her father, which would have astonished him had he heard +with what fidelity of action and tone they were rendered. Upon +the whole, a very interesting picture of Sweet-and-Twenty was on +view that evening in Mr. Swancourt's house. + +Ultimately Stephen had to go upstairs and talk loud to the vicar, +receiving from him between his puffs a great many apologies for +calling him so unceremoniously to a stranger's bedroom. 'But,' +continued Mr. Swancourt, 'I felt that I wanted to say a few words +to you before the morning, on the business of your visit. One's +patience gets exhausted by staying a prisoner in bed all day +through a sudden freak of one's enemy--new to me, though--for I +have known very little of gout as yet. However, he's gone to my +other toe in a very mild manner, and I expect he'll slink off +altogether by the morning. I hope you have been well attended to +downstairs?' + +'Perfectly. And though it is unfortunate, and I am sorry to see +you laid up, I beg you will not take the slightest notice of my +being in the house the while.' + +'I will not. But I shall be down to-morrow. My daughter is an +excellent doctor. A dose or two of her mild mixtures will fetch +me round quicker than all the drug stuff in the world. Well, now +about the church business. Take a seat, do. We can't afford to +stand upon ceremony in these parts as you see, and for this +reason, that a civilized human being seldom stays long with us; +and so we cannot waste time in approaching him, or he will be gone +before we have had the pleasure of close acquaintance. This tower +of ours is, as you will notice, entirely gone beyond the +possibility of restoration; but the church itself is well enough. +You should see some of the churches in this county. Floors +rotten: ivy lining the walls.' + +'Dear me!' + +'Oh, that's nothing. The congregation of a neighbour of mine, +whenever a storm of rain comes on during service, open their +umbrellas and hold them up till the dripping ceases from the roof. +Now, if you will kindly bring me those papers and letters you see +lying on the table, I will show you how far we have got.' + +Stephen crossed the room to fetch them, and the vicar seemed to +notice more particularly the slim figure of his visitor. + +'I suppose you are quite competent?' he said. + +'Quite,' said the young man, colouring slightly. + +'You are very young, I fancy--I should say you are not more than +nineteen?' + +I am nearly twenty-one.' + +'Exactly half my age; I am forty-two.' + +'By the way,' said Mr. Swancourt, after some conversation, 'you +said your whole name was Stephen Fitzmaurice, and that your +grandfather came originally from Caxbury. Since I have been +speaking, it has occurred to me that I know something of you. You +belong to a well-known ancient county family--not ordinary Smiths +in the least.' + +'I don't think we have any of their blood in our veins.' + +'Nonsense! you must. Hand me the "Landed Gentry." Now, let me +see. There, Stephen Fitzmaurice Smith--he lies in St. Mary's +Church, doesn't he? Well, out of that family Sprang the +Leaseworthy Smiths, and collaterally came General Sir Stephen +Fitzmaurice Smith of Caxbury----' + +'Yes; I have seen his monument there,' shouted Stephen. 'But +there is no connection between his family and mine: there cannot +be.' + +'There is none, possibly, to your knowledge. But look at this, my +dear sir,' said the vicar, striking his fist upon the bedpost for +emphasis. 'Here are you, Stephen Fitzmaurice Smith, living in +London, but springing from Caxbury. Here in this book is a +genealogical tree of the Stephen Fitzmaurice Smiths of Caxbury +Manor. You may be only a family of professional men now--I am not +inquisitive: I don't ask questions of that kind; it is not in me +to do so--but it is as plain as the nose in your face that there's +your origin! And, Mr. Smith, I congratulate you upon your blood; +blue blood, sir; and, upon my life, a very desirable colour, as +the world goes.' + +'I wish you could congratulate me upon some more tangible +quality,' said the younger man, sadly no less than modestly. + +'Nonsense! that will come with time. You are young: all your life +is before you. Now look--see how far back in the mists of +antiquity my own family of Swancourt have a root. Here, you see,' +he continued, turning to the page, 'is Geoffrey, the one among my +ancestors who lost a barony because he would cut his joke. Ah, +it's the sort of us! But the story is too long to tell now. Ay, +I'm a poor man--a poor gentleman, in fact: those I would be +friends with, won't be friends with me; those who are willing to +be friends with me, I am above being friends with. Beyond dining +with a neighbouring incumbent or two. and an occasional chat-- +sometimes dinner--with Lord Luxellian, a connection of mine, I am +in absolute solitude--absolute.' + +'You have your studies, your books, and your--daughter.' + +'Oh yes, yes; and I don't complain of poverty. Canto coram +latrone. Well, Mr. Smith, don't let me detain you any longer in a +sick room. Ha! that reminds me of a story I once heard in my +younger days.' Here the vicar began a series of small private +laughs, and Stephen looked inquiry. 'Oh, no, no! it is too bad-- +too bad to tell!' continued Mr. Swancourt in undertones of grim +mirth. 'Well, go downstairs; my daughter must do the best she can +with you this evening. Ask her to sing to you--she plays and +sings very nicely. Good-night; I feel as if I had known you for +five or six years. I'll ring for somebody to show you down.' + +'Never mind,' said Stephen, 'I can find the way.' And he went +downstairs, thinking of the delightful freedom of manner in the +remoter counties in comparison with the reserve of London. + + +'I forgot to tell you that my father was rather deaf,' said +Elfride anxiously, when Stephen entered the little drawing-room. + +'Never mind; I know all about it, and we are great friends,' the +man of business replied enthusiastically. 'And, Miss Swancourt, +will you kindly sing to me?' + +To Miss Swancourt this request seemed, what in fact it was, +exceptionally point-blank; though she guessed that her father had +some hand in framing it, knowing, rather to her cost, of his +unceremonious way of utilizing her for the benefit of dull +sojourners. At the same time, as Mr. Smith's manner was too frank +to provoke criticism, and his age too little to inspire fear, she +was ready--not to say pleased--to accede. Selecting from the +canterbury some old family ditties, that in years gone by had been +played and sung by her mother, Elfride sat down to the pianoforte, +and began, "Twas on the evening of a winter's day,' in a pretty +contralto voice. + +'Do you like that old thing, Mr. Smith?' she said at the end. + +'Yes, I do much,' said Stephen--words he would have uttered, and +sincerely, to anything on earth, from glee to requiem, that she +might have chosen. + +'You shall have a little one by De Leyre, that was given me by a +young French lady who was staying at Endelstow House: + + + '"Je l'ai plante, je l'ai vu naitre, + Ce beau rosier ou les oiseaux," &c.; + + +and then I shall want to give you my own favourite for the very +last, Shelley's "When the lamp is shattered," as set to music by +my poor mother. I so much like singing to anybody who REALLY +cares to hear me.' + +Every woman who makes a permanent impression on a man is usually +recalled to his mind's eye as she appeared in one particular +scene, which seems ordained to be her special form of +manifestation throughout the pages of his memory. As the patron +Saint has her attitude and accessories in mediaeval illumination, +so the sweetheart may be said to have hers upon the table of her +true Love's fancy, without which she is rarely introduced there +except by effort; and this though she may, on further +acquaintance, have been observed in many other phases which one +would imagine to be far more appropriate to love's young dream. + +Miss Elfride's image chose the form in which she was beheld during +these minutes of singing, for her permanent attitude of visitation +to Stephen's eyes during his sleeping and waking hours in after +days. The profile is seen of a young woman in a pale gray silk +dress with trimmings of swan's-down, and opening up from a point +in front, like a waistcoat without a shirt; the cool colour +contrasting admirably with the warm bloom of her neck and face. +The furthermost candle on the piano comes immediately in a line +with her head, and half invisible itself, forms the accidentally +frizzled hair into a nebulous haze of light, surrounding her crown +like an aureola. Her hands are in their place on the keys, her +lips parted, and trilling forth, in a tender diminuendo, the +closing words of the sad apostrophe: + + + + 'O Love, who bewailest + The frailty of all things here, + Why choose you the frailest + For your cradle, your home, and your bier!' + + +Her head is forward a little, and her eyes directed keenly upward +to the top of the page of music confronting her. Then comes a +rapid look into Stephen's face, and a still more rapid look back +again to her business, her face having dropped its sadness, and +acquired a certain expression of mischievous archness the while; +which lingered there for some time, but was never developed into a +positive smile of flirtation. + +Stephen suddenly shifted his position from her right hand to her +left, where there was just room enough for a small ottoman to +stand between the piano and the corner of the room. Into this +nook he squeezed himself, and gazed wistfully up into Elfride's +face. So long and so earnestly gazed he, that her cheek deepened +to a more and more crimson tint as each line was added to her +song. Concluding, and pausing motionless after the last word for +a minute or two, she ventured to look at him again. His features +wore an expression of unutterable heaviness. + +'You don't hear many songs, do you, Mr. Smith, to take so much +notice of these of mine?' + +'Perhaps it was the means and vehicle of the song that I was +noticing: I mean yourself,' he answered gently. + +'Now, Mr. Smith!' + +'It is perfectly true; I don't hear much singing. You mistake +what I am, I fancy. Because I come as a stranger to a secluded +spot, you think I must needs come from a life of bustle, and know +the latest movements of the day. But I don't. My life is as +quiet as yours, and more solitary; solitary as death.' + +'The death which comes from a plethora of life? But seriously, I +can quite see that you are not the least what I thought you would +be before I saw you. You are not critical, or experienced, or-- +much to mind. That's why I don't mind singing airs to you that I +only half know.' Finding that by this confession she had vexed him +in a way she did not intend, she added naively, 'I mean, Mr. +Smith, that you are better, not worse, for being only young and +not very experienced. You don't think my life here so very tame +and dull, I know.' + +'I do not, indeed,' he said with fervour. 'It must be +delightfully poetical, and sparkling, and fresh, and----' + +'There you go, Mr. Smith! Well, men of another kind, when I get +them to be honest enough to own the truth, think just the reverse: +that my life must be a dreadful bore in its normal state, though +pleasant for the exceptional few days they pass here.' + +'I could live here always!' he said, and with such a tone and look +of unconscious revelation that Elfride was startled to find that +her harmonies had fired a small Troy, in the shape of Stephen's +heart. She said quickly: + +'But you can't live here always.' + +'Oh no.' And he drew himself in with the sensitiveness of a snail. + +Elfride's emotions were sudden as his in kindling, but the least +of woman's lesser infirmities--love of admiration--caused an +inflammable disposition on his part, so exactly similar to her +own, to appear as meritorious in him as modesty made her own seem +culpable in her. + + + +Chapter IV + +'Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap.' + + +For reasons of his own, Stephen Smith was stirring a short time +after dawn the next morning. From the window of his room he could +see, first, two bold escarpments sloping down together like the +letter V. Towards the bottom, like liquid in a funnel, appeared +the sea, gray and small. On the brow of one hill, of rather +greater altitude than its neighbour, stood the church which was to +be the scene of his operations. The lonely edifice was black and +bare, cutting up into the sky from the very tip of the hill. It +had a square mouldering tower, owning neither battlement nor +pinnacle, and seemed a monolithic termination, of one substance +with the ridge, rather than a structure raised thereon. Round the +church ran a low wall; over-topping the wall in general level was +the graveyard; not as a graveyard usually is, a fragment of +landscape with its due variety of chiaro-oscuro, but a mere +profile against the sky, serrated with the outlines of graves and +a very few memorial stones. Not a tree could exist up there: +nothing but the monotonous gray-green grass. + +Five minutes after this casual survey was made his bedroom was +empty, and its occupant had vanished quietly from the house. + +At the end of two hours he was again in the room, looking warm and +glowing. He now pursued the artistic details of dressing, which +on his first rising had been entirely omitted. And a very +blooming boy he looked, after that mysterious morning scamper. +His mouth was a triumph of its class. It was the cleanly-cut, +piquantly pursed-up mouth of William Pitt, as represented in the +well or little known bust by Nollekens--a mouth which is in itself +a young man's fortune, if properly exercised. His round chin, +where its upper part turned inward, still continued its perfect +and full curve, seeming to press in to a point the bottom of his +nether lip at their place of junction. + +Once he murmured the name of Elfride. Ah, there she was! On the +lawn in a plain dress, without hat or bonnet, running with a boy's +velocity, superadded to a girl's lightness, after a tame rabbit +she was endeavouring to capture, her strategic intonations of +coaxing words alternating with desperate rushes so much out of +keeping with them, that the hollowness of such expressions was but +too evident to her pet, who darted and dodged in carefully timed +counterpart. + +The scene down there was altogether different from that of the +hills. A thicket of shrubs and trees enclosed the favoured spot +from the wilderness without; even at this time of the year the +grass was luxuriant there. No wind blew inside the protecting +belt of evergreens, wasting its force upon the higher and stronger +trees forming the outer margin of the grove. + +Then he heard a heavy person shuffling about in slippers, and +calling 'Mr. Smith!' Smith proceeded to the study, and found Mr. +Swancourt. The young man expressed his gladness to see his host +downstairs. + +'Oh yes; I knew I should soon be right again. I have not made the +acquaintance of gout for more than two years, and it generally +goes off the second night. Well, where have you been this +morning? I saw you come in just now, I think!' + +'Yes; I have been for a walk.' + +'Start early?' + +'Yes.' + +'Very early, I think?' + +'Yes, it was rather early.' + +'Which way did you go? To the sea, I suppose. Everybody goes +seaward.' + +'No; I followed up the river as far as the park wall.' + +'You are different from your kind. Well, I suppose such a wild +place is a novelty, and so tempted you out of bed?' + +'Not altogether a novelty. I like it.' + +The youth seemed averse to explanation. + +'You must, you must; to go cock-watching the morning after a +journey of fourteen or sixteen hours. But there's no accounting +for tastes, and I am glad to see that yours are no meaner. After +breakfast, but not before, I shall be good for a ten miles' walk, +Master Smith.' + +Certainly there seemed nothing exaggerated in that assertion. Mr. +Swancourt by daylight showed himself to be a man who, in common +with the other two people under his roof, had really strong claims +to be considered handsome,--handsome, that is, in the sense in +which the moon is bright: the ravines and valleys which, on a +close inspection, are seen to diversify its surface being left out +of the argument. His face was of a tint that never deepened upon +his cheeks nor lightened upon his forehead, but remained uniform +throughout; the usual neutral salmon-colour of a man who feeds +well--not to say too well--and does not think hard; every pore +being in visible working order. His tout ensemble was that of a +highly improved class of farmer, dressed up in the wrong clothes; +that of a firm-standing perpendicular man, whose fall would have +been backwards indirection if he had ever lost his balance. + +The vicar's background was at present what a vicar's background +should be, his study. Here the consistency ends. All along the +chimneypiece were ranged bottles of horse, pig, and cow medicines, +and against the wall was a high table, made up of the fragments of +an old oak Iychgate. Upon this stood stuffed specimens of owls, +divers, and gulls, and over them bunches of wheat and barley ears, +labelled with the date of the year that produced them. Some cases +and shelves, more or less laden with books, the prominent titles +of which were Dr. Brown's 'Notes on the Romans,' Dr. Smith's +'Notes on the Corinthians,' and Dr. Robinson's 'Notes on the +Galatians, Ephesians, and Philippians,' just saved the character +of the place, in spite of a girl's doll's-house standing above +them, a marine aquarium in the window, and Elfride's hat hanging +on its corner. + +'Business, business!' said Mr. Swancourt after breakfast. He began +to find it necessary to act the part of a fly-wheel towards the +somewhat irregular forces of his visitor. + +They prepared to go to the church; the vicar, on second thoughts, +mounting his coal-black mare to avoid exerting his foot too much +at starting. Stephen said he should want a man to assist him. +'Worm!' the vicar shouted. + +A minute or two after a voice was heard round the corner of the +building, mumbling, 'Ah, I used to be strong enough, but 'tis +altered now! Well, there, I'm as independent as one here and +there, even if they do write 'squire after their names.' + +'What's the matter?' said the vicar, as William Worm appeared; +when the remarks were repeated to him. + +'Worm says some very true things sometimes,' Mr. Swancourt said, +turning to Stephen. 'Now, as regards that word "esquire." Why, +Mr. Smith, that word "esquire" is gone to the dogs,--used on the +letters of every jackanapes who has a black coat. Anything else, +Worm?' + +'Ay, the folk have begun frying again!' + +'Dear me! I'm sorry to hear that.' + +'Yes,' Worm said groaningly to Stephen, 'I've got such a noise in +my head that there's no living night nor day. 'Tis just for all +the world like people frying fish: fry, fry, fry, all day long in +my poor head, till I don't know whe'r I'm here or yonder. There, +God A'mighty will find it out sooner or later, I hope, and relieve +me.' + +'Now, my deafness,' said Mr. Swancourt impressively, 'is a dead +silence; but William Worm's is that of people frying fish in his +head. Very remarkable, isn't it?' + +'I can hear the frying-pan a-fizzing as naterel as life,' said +Worm corroboratively. + +'Yes, it is remarkable,' said Mr. Smith. + +'Very peculiar, very peculiar,' echoed the vicar; and they all +then followed the path up the hill, bounded on each side by a +little stone wall, from which gleamed fragments of quartz and +blood-red marbles, apparently of inestimable value, in their +setting of brown alluvium. Stephen walked with the dignity of a +man close to the horse's head, Worm stumbled along a stone's throw +in the rear, and Elfride was nowhere in particular, yet +everywhere; sometimes in front, sometimes behind, sometimes at the +sides, hovering about the procession like a butterfly; not +definitely engaged in travelling, yet somehow chiming in at points +with the general progress. + +The vicar explained things as he went on: 'The fact is, Mr. Smith, +I didn't want this bother of church restoration at all, but it was +necessary to do something in self-defence, on account of those d---- +dissenters: I use the word in its scriptural meaning, of +course, not as an expletive.' + +'How very odd!' said Stephen, with the concern demanded of serious +friendliness. + +'Odd? That's nothing to how it is in the parish of Twinkley. Both +the churchwardens are----; there, I won't say what they are; and +the clerk and the sexton as well.' + +'How very strange!' said Stephen. + +'Strange? My dear sir, that's nothing to how it is in the parish +of Sinnerton. However, as to our own parish, I hope we shall make +some progress soon.' + +'You must trust to circumstances.' + +'There are no circumstances to trust to. We may as well trust in +Providence if we trust at all. But here we are. A wild place, +isn't it? But I like it on such days as these.' + +The churchyard was entered on this side by a stone stile, over +which having clambered, you remained still on the wild hill, the +within not being so divided from the without as to obliterate the +sense of open freedom. A delightful place to be buried in, +postulating that delight can accompany a man to his tomb under any +circumstances. There was nothing horrible in this churchyard, in +the shape of tight mounds bonded with sticks, which shout +imprisonment in the ears rather than whisper rest; or trim garden- +flowers, which only raise images of people in new black crape and +white handkerchiefs coming to tend them; or wheel-marks, which +remind us of hearses and mourning coaches; or cypress-bushes, +which make a parade of sorrow; or coffin-boards and bones lying +behind trees, showing that we are only leaseholders of our graves. +No; nothing but long, wild, untutored grass, diversifying the +forms of the mounds it covered,--themselves irregularly shaped, +with no eye to effect; the impressive presence of the old mountain +that all this was a part of being nowhere excluded by disguising +art. Outside were similar slopes and similar grass; and then the +serene impassive sea, visible to a width of half the horizon, and +meeting the eye with the effect of a vast concave, like the +interior of a blue vessel. Detached rocks stood upright afar, a +collar of foam girding their bases, and repeating in its whiteness +the plumage of a countless multitude of gulls that restlessly +hovered about. + +'Now, Worm!' said Mr. Swancourt sharply; and Worm started into an +attitude of attention at once to receive orders. Stephen and +himself were then left in possession, and the work went on till +early in the afternoon, when dinner was announced by Unity of the +vicarage kitchen running up the hill without a bonnet. + + +Elfride did not make her appearance inside the building till late +in the afternoon, and came then by special invitation from Stephen +during dinner. She looked so intensely LIVING and full of +movement as she came into the old silent place, that young Smith's +world began to be lit by 'the purple light' in all its +definiteness. Worm was got rid of by sending him to measure the +height of the tower. + +What could she do but come close--so close that a minute arc of +her skirt touched his foot--and asked him how he was getting on +with his sketches, and set herself to learn the principles of +practical mensuration as applied to irregular buildings? Then she +must ascend the pulpit to re-imagine for the hundredth time how it +would seem to be a preacher. + +Presently she leant over the front of the pulpit. + +'Don't you tell papa, will you, Mr. Smith, if I tell you +something?' she said with a sudden impulse to make a confidence. + +'Oh no, that I won't,' said he, staring up. + +'Well, I write papa's sermons for him very often, and he preaches +them better than he does his own; and then afterwards he talks to +people and to me about what he said in his sermon to-day, and +forgets that I wrote it for him. Isn't it absurd?' + +'How clever you must be!' said Stephen. 'I couldn't write a +sermon for the world.' + +'Oh, it's easy enough,' she said, descending from the pulpit and +coming close to him to explain more vividly. 'You do it like +this. Did you ever play a game of forfeits called "When is it? +where is it? what is it?"' + +'No, never.' + +'Ah, that's a pity, because writing a sermon is very much like +playing that game. You take the text. You think, why is it? what +is it? and so on. You put that down under "Generally." Then you +proceed to the First, Secondly, and Thirdly. Papa won't have +Fourthlys--says they are all my eye. Then you have a final +Collectively, several pages of this being put in great black +brackets, writing opposite, "LEAVE THIS OUT IF THE FARMERS ARE +FALLING ASLEEP." Then comes your In Conclusion, then A Few Words +And I Have Done. Well, all this time you have put on the back of +each page, "KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN"--I mean,' she added, correcting +herself, 'that's how I do in papa's sermon-book, because otherwise +he gets louder and louder, till at last he shouts like a farmer up +a-field. Oh, papa is so funny in some things!' + +Then, after this childish burst of confidence, she was frightened, +as if warned by womanly instinct, which for the moment her ardour +had outrun, that she had been too forward to a comparative +stranger. + +Elfride saw her father then, and went away into the wind, being +caught by a gust as she ascended the churchyard slope, in which +gust she had the motions, without the motives, of a hoiden; the +grace, without the self-consciousness, of a pirouetter. She +conversed for a minute or two with her father, and proceeded +homeward, Mr. Swancourt coming on to the church to Stephen. The +wind had freshened his warm complexion as it freshens the glow of +a brand. He was in a mood of jollity, and watched Elfride down +the hill with a smile. + +'You little flyaway! you look wild enough now,' he said, and +turned to Stephen. 'But she's not a wild child at all, Mr. Smith. +As steady as you; and that you are steady I see from your +diligence here.' + +'I think Miss Swancourt very clever,' Stephen observed. + +'Yes, she is; certainly, she is,' said papa, turning his voice as +much as possible to the neutral tone of disinterested criticism. +'Now, Smith, I'll tell you something; but she mustn't know it for +the world--not for the world, mind, for she insists upon keeping +it a dead secret. Why, SHE WRITES MY SERMONS FOR ME OFTEN, and a +very good job she makes of them!' + +'She can do anything.' + +'She can do that. The little rascal has the very trick of the +trade. But, mind you, Smith, not a word about it to her, not a +single word!' + +'Not a word,' said Smith. + +'Look there,' said Mr. Swancourt. 'What do you think of my +roofing?' He pointed with his walking-stick at the chancel roof + +'Did you do that, sir?' + +'Yes, I worked in shirt-sleeves all the time that was going on. I +pulled down the old rafters, fixed the new ones, put on the +battens, slated the roof, all with my own hands, Worm being my +assistant. We worked like slaves, didn't we, Worm?' + +'Ay, sure, we did; harder than some here and there--hee, hee!' +said William Worm, cropping up from somewhere. 'Like slaves, 'a +b'lieve--hee, hee! And weren't ye foaming mad, sir, when the nails +wouldn't go straight? Mighty I! There, 'tisn't so bad to cuss and +keep it in as to cuss and let it out, is it, sir?' + +'Well--why?' + +'Because you, sir, when ye were a-putting on the roof, only used +to cuss in your mind, which is, I suppose, no harm at all.' + +'I don't think you know what goes on in my mind, Worm.' + +'Oh, doan't I, sir--hee, hee! Maybe I'm but a poor wambling thing, +sir, and can't read much; but I can spell as well as some here and +there. Doan't ye mind, sir, that blustrous night when ye asked me +to hold the candle to ye in yer workshop, when you were making a +new chair for the chancel?' + +'Yes; what of that?' + +'I stood with the candle, and you said you liked company, if 'twas +only a dog or cat--maning me; and the chair wouldn't do nohow.' + +'Ah, I remember.' + +'No; the chair wouldn't do nohow. 'A was very well to look at; +but, Lord!----' + +'Worm, how often have I corrected you for irreverent speaking?' + +'--'A was very well to look at, but you couldn't sit in the chair +nohow. 'Twas all a-twist wi' the chair, like the letter Z, +directly you sat down upon the chair. "Get up, Worm," says you, +when you seed the chair go all a-sway wi' me. Up you took the +chair, and flung en like fire and brimstone to t'other end of your +shop--all in a passion. "Damn the chair!" says I. "Just what I +was thinking," says you, sir. "I could see it in your face, sir," +says I, "and I hope you and God will forgi'e me for saying what +you wouldn't." To save your life you couldn't help laughing, sir, +at a poor wambler reading your thoughts so plain. Ay, I'm as wise +as one here and there.' + +'I thought you had better have a practical man to go over the +church and tower with you,' Mr. Swancourt said to Stephen the +following morning, 'so I got Lord Luxellian's permission to send +for a man when you came. I told him to be there at ten o'clock. +He's a very intelligent man, and he will tell you all you want to +know about the state of the walls. His name is John Smith.' + +Elfride did not like to be seen again at the church with Stephen. +'I will watch here for your appearance at the top of the tower,' +she said laughingly. 'I shall see your figure against the sky.' + +'And when I am up there I'll wave my handkerchief to you, Miss +Swancourt,' said Stephen. 'In twelve minutes from this present +moment,' he added, looking at his watch, 'I'll be at the summit +and look out for you.' + +She went round to the corner of the sbrubbery, whence she could +watch him down the slope leading to the foot of the hill on which +the church stood. There she saw waiting for him a white spot--a +mason in his working clothes. Stephen met this man and stopped. + +To her surprise, instead of their moving on to the churchyard, +they both leisurely sat down upon a stone close by their meeting- +place, and remained as if in deep conversation. Elfride looked at +the time; nine of the twelve minutes had passed, and Stephen +showed no signs of moving. More minutes passed--she grew cold +with waiting, and shivered. It was not till the end of a quarter +of an hour that they began to slowly wend up the hill at a snail's +pace. + +'Rude and unmannerly!' she said to herself, colouring with pique. +'Anybody would think he was in love with that horrid mason instead +of with----' + +The sentence remained unspoken, though not unthought. + +She returned to the porch. + +'Is the man you sent for a lazy, sit-still, do-nothing kind of +man?' she inquired of her father. + +'No,' he said surprised; 'quite the reverse. He is Lord +Luxellian's master-mason, John Smith.' + +'Oh,' said Elfride indifferently, and returned towards her bleak +station, and waited and shivered again. It was a trifle, after +all--a childish thing--looking out from a tower and waving a +handkerchief. But her new friend had promised, and why should he +tease her so? The effect of a blow is as proportionate to the +texture of the object struck as to its own momentum; and she had +such a superlative capacity for being wounded that little hits +struck her hard. + +It was not till the end of half an hour that two figures were seen +above the parapet of the dreary old pile, motionless as bitterns +on a ruined mosque. Even then Stephen was not true enough to +perform what he was so courteous to promise, and he vanished +without making a sign. + +He returned at midday. Elfride looked vexed when unconscious that +his eyes were upon her; when conscious, severe. However, her +attitude of coldness had long outlived the coldness itself, and +she could no longer utter feigned words of indifference. + +'Ah, you weren't kind to keep me waiting in the cold, and break +your promise,' she said at last reproachfully, in tones too low +for her father's powers of hearing. + +'Forgive, forgive me!' said Stephen with dismay. 'I had +forgotten--quite forgotten! Something prevented my remembering.' + +'Any further explanation?' said Miss Capricious, pouting. + +He was silent for a few minutes, and looked askance. + +'None,' he said, with the accent of one who concealed a sin. + + + +Chapter V + +'Bosom'd high in tufted trees.' + + +It was breakfast time. + +As seen from the vicarage dining-room, which took a warm tone of +light from the fire, the weather and scene outside seemed to have +stereotyped themselves in unrelieved shades of gray. The long- +armed trees and shrubs of juniper, cedar, and pine varieties, were +grayish black; those of the broad-leaved sort, together with the +herbage, were grayish-green; the eternal hills and tower behind +them were grayish-brown; the sky, dropping behind all, gray of the +purest melancholy. + +Yet in spite of this sombre artistic effect, the morning was not +one which tended to lower the spirits. It was even cheering. For +it did not rain, nor was rain likely to fall for many days to +come. + +Elfride had turned from the table towards the fire and was idly +elevating a hand-screen before her face, when she heard the click +of a little gate outside. + +'Ah, here's the postman!' she said, as a shuffling, active man +came through an opening in the shrubbery and across the lawn. She +vanished, and met him in the porch, afterwards coming in with her +hands behind her back. + +'How many are there? Three for papa, one for Mr. Smith, none for +Miss Swancourt. And, papa, look here, one of yours is from--whom +do you think?--Lord Luxellian. And it has something HARD in it--a +lump of something. I've been feeling it through the envelope, and +can't think what it is.' + +'What does Luxellian write for, I wonder?' Mr. Swancourt had said +simultaneously with her words. He handed Stephen his letter, and +took his own, putting on his countenance a higher class of look +than was customary, as became a poor gentleman who was going to +read a letter from a peer. + +Stephen read his missive with a countenance quite the reverse of +the vicar's. + + + 'PERCY PLACE, Thursday Evening. +'DEAR SMITH,--Old H. is in a towering rage with you for being so +long about the church sketches. Swears you are more trouble than +you are worth. He says I am to write and say you are to stay no +longer on any consideration--that he would have done it all in +three hours very easily. I told him that you were not like an +experienced hand, which he seemed to forget, but it did not make +much difference. However, between you and me privately, if I were +you I would not alarm myself for a day or so, if I were not +inclined to return. I would make out the week and finish my +spree. He will blow up just as much if you appear here on +Saturday as if you keep away till Monday morning.--Yours very +truly, + 'SIMPKINS JENKINS. + + + +'Dear me--very awkward!' said Stephen, rather en l'air, and +confused with the kind of confusion that assails an understrapper +when he has been enlarged by accident to the dimensions of a +superior, and is somewhat rudely pared down to his original size. + +'What is awkward?' said Miss Swancourt. + +Smith by this time recovered his equanimity, and with it the +professional dignity of an experienced architect. + +'Important business demands my immediate presence in London, I +regret to say,' he replied. + +'What! Must you go at once?' said Mr. Swancourt, looking over the +edge of his letter. 'Important business? A young fellow like you +to have important business!' + +'The truth is,' said Stephen blushing, and rather ashamed of +having pretended even so slightly to a consequence which did not +belong to him,--'the truth is, Mr. Hewby has sent to say I am to +come home; and I must obey him.' + +'I see; I see. It is politic to do so, you mean. Now I can see +more than you think. You are to be his partner. I booked you for +that directly I read his letter to me the other day, and the way +he spoke of you. He thinks a great deal of you, Mr. Smith, or he +wouldn't be so anxious for your return.' + +Unpleasant to Stephen such remarks as these could not sound; to +have the expectancy of partnership with one of the largest- +practising architects in London thrust upon him was cheering, +however untenable he felt the idea to be. He saw that, whatever +Mr. Hewby might think, Mr. Swancourt certainly thought much of him +to entertain such an idea on such slender ground as to be +absolutely no ground at all. And then, unaccountably, his +speaking face exhibited a cloud of sadness, which a reflection on +the remoteness of any such contingency could hardly have sufficed +to cause. + +Elfride was struck with that look of his; even Mr. Swancourt +noticed it. + +'Well,' he said cheerfully, 'never mind that now. You must come +again on your own account; not on business. Come to see me as a +visitor, you know--say, in your holidays--all you town men have +holidays like schoolboys. When are they?' + +'In August, I believe.' + +'Very well; come in August; and then you need not hurry away so. +I am glad to get somebody decent to talk to, or at, in this +outlandish ultima Thule. But, by the bye, I have something to +say--you won't go to-day?' + +'No; I need not,' said Stephen hesitatingly. 'I am not obliged to +get back before Monday morning.' + +'Very well, then, that brings me to what I am going to propose. +This is a letter from Lord Luxellian. I think you heard me speak +of him as the resident landowner in this district, and patron of +this living?' + +'I--know of him.' + +'He is in London now. It seems that he has run up on business for +a day or two, and taken Lady Luxellian with him. He has written +to ask me to go to his house, and search for a paper among his +private memoranda, which he forgot to take with him.' + +'What did he send in the letter?' inquired Elfride. + +'The key of a private desk in which the papers are. He doesn't +like to trust such a matter to any body else. I have done such +things for him before. And what I propose is, that we make an +afternoon of it--all three of us. Go for a drive to Targan Bay, +come home by way of Endelstow House; and whilst I am looking over +the documents you can ramble about the rooms where you like. I +have the run of the house at any time, you know. The building, +though nothing but a mass of gables outside, has a splendid hall, +staircase, and gallery within; and there are a few good pictures.' + +'Yes, there are,' said Stephen. + +'Have you seen the place, then? + +'I saw it as I came by,' he said hastily. + +'Oh yes; but I was alluding to the interior. And the church--St. +Eval's--is much older than our St. Agnes' here. I do duty in that +and this alternately, you know. The fact is, I ought to have some +help; riding across that park for two miles on a wet morning is +not at all the thing. If my constitution were not well seasoned, +as thank God it is,'--here Mr. Swancourt looked down his front, as +if his constitution were visible there,--'I should be coughing and +barking all the year round. And when the family goes away, there +are only about three servants to preach to when I get there. +Well, that shall be the arrangement, then. Elfride, you will like +to go?' + +Elfride assented; and the little breakfast-party separated. +Stephen rose to go and take a few final measurements at the +church, the vicar following him to the door with a mysterious +expression of inquiry on his face. + +'You'll put up with our not having family prayer this morning, I +hope?' he whispered. + +'Yes; quite so,' said Stephen. + +'To tell you the truth,' he continued in the same undertone, 'we +don't make a regular thing of it; but when we have strangers +visiting us, I am strongly of opinion that it is the proper thing +to do, and I always do it. I am very strict on that point. But +you, Smith, there is something in your face which makes me feel +quite at home; no nonsense about you, in short. Ah, it reminds me +of a splendid story I used to hear when I was a helter-skelter +young fellow--such a story! But'--here the vicar shook his head +self-forbiddingly, and grimly laughed. + +'Was it a good story?' said young Smith, smiling too. + +'Oh yes; but 'tis too bad--too bad! Couldn't tell it to you for +the world!' + +Stephen went across the lawn, hearing the vicar chuckling +privately at the recollection as he withdrew. + + +They started at three o'clock. The gray morning had resolved +itself into an afternoon bright with a pale pervasive sunlight, +without the sun itself being visible. Lightly they trotted along-- +the wheels nearly silent, the horse's hoofs clapping, almost +ringing, upon the hard, white, turnpike road as it followed the +level ridge in a perfectly straight line, seeming to be absorbed +ultimately by the white of the sky. + +Targan Bay--which had the merit of being easily got at--was duly +visited. They then swept round by innumerable lanes, in which not +twenty consecutive yards were either straight or level, to the +domain of Lord Luxellian. A woman with a double chin and thick +neck, like Queen Anne by Dahl, threw open the lodge gate, a little +boy standing behind her. + +'I'll give him something, poor little fellow,' said Elfride, +pulling out her purse and hastily opening it. From the interior +of her purse a host of bits of paper, like a flock of white birds, +floated into the air, and were blown about in all directions. + +'Well, to be sure!' said Stephen with a slight laugh. + +'What the dickens is all that?' said Mr. Swancourt. 'Not halves +of bank-notes, Elfride?' + +Elfride looked annoyed and guilty. 'They are only something of +mine, papa,' she faltered, whilst Stephen leapt out, and, assisted +by the lodge-keeper's little boy, crept about round the wheels and +horse's hoofs till the papers were all gathered together again. +He handed them back to her, and remounted. + +'I suppose you are wondering what those scraps were?' she said, as +they bowled along up the sycamore avenue. 'And so I may as well +tell you. They are notes for a romance I am writing.' + +She could not help colouring at the confession, much as she tried +to avoid it. + +'A story, do you mean?' said Stephen, Mr. Swancourt half +listening, and catching a word of the conversation now and then. + +'Yes; THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE; a romance of the fifteenth +century. Such writing is out of date now, I know; but I like +doing it.' + +'A romance carried in a purse! If a highwayman were to rob you, he +would be taken in.' + +'Yes; that's my way of carrying manuscript. The real reason is, +that I mostly write bits of it on scraps of paper when I am on +horseback; and I put them there for convenience.' + +'What are you going to do with your romance when you have written +it?' said Stephen. + +'I don't know,' she replied, and turned her head to look at the +prospect. + +For by this time they had reached the precincts of Endelstow +House. Driving through an ancient gate-way of dun-coloured stone, +spanned by the high-shouldered Tudor arch, they found themselves +in a spacious court, closed by a facade on each of its three +sides. The substantial portions of the existing building dated +from the reign of Henry VIII.; but the picturesque and sheltered +spot had been the site of an erection of a much earlier date. A +licence to crenellate mansum infra manerium suum was granted by +Edward II. to 'Hugo Luxellen chivaler;' but though the faint +outline of the ditch and mound was visible at points, no sign of +the original building remained. + +The windows on all sides were long and many-mullioned; the roof +lines broken up by dormer lights of the same pattern. The apex +stones of these dormers, together with those of the gables, were +surmounted by grotesque figures in rampant, passant, and couchant +variety. Tall octagonal and twisted chimneys thrust themselves +high up into the sky, surpassed in height, however, by some +poplars and sycamores at the back, which showed their gently +rocking summits over ridge and parapet. In the corners of the +court polygonal bays, whose surfaces were entirely occupied by +buttresses and windows, broke into the squareness of the +enclosure; and a far-projecting oriel, springing from a fantastic +series of mouldings, overhung the archway of the chief entrance to +the house. + +As Mr. Swancourt had remarked, he had the freedom of the mansion +in the absence of its owner. Upon a statement of his errand they +were all admitted to the library, and left entirely to themselves. +Mr. Swancourt was soon up to his eyes in the examination of a heap +of papers he had taken from the cabinet described by his +correspondent. Stephen and Elfride had nothing to do but to +wander about till her father was ready. + +Elfride entered the gallery, and Stephen followed her without +seeming to do so. It was a long sombre apartment, enriched with +fittings a century or so later in style than the walls of the +mansion. Pilasters of Renaissance workmanship supported a cornice +from which sprang a curved ceiling, panelled in the awkward twists +and curls of the period. The old Gothic quarries still remained +in the upper portion of the large window at the end, though they +had made way for a more modern form of glazing elsewhere. + +Stephen was at one end of the gallery looking towards Elfride, who +stood in the midst, beginning to feel somewhat depressed by the +society of Luxellian shades of cadaverous complexion fixed by +Holbein, Kneller, and Lely, and seeming to gaze at and through her +in a moralizing mood. The silence, which cast almost a spell upon +them, was broken by the sudden opening of a door at the far end. + +Out bounded a pair of little girls, lightly yet warmly dressed. +Their eyes were sparkling; their hair swinging about and around; +their red mouths laughing with unalloyed gladness. + +'Ah, Miss Swancourt: dearest Elfie! we heard you. Are you going +to stay here? You are our little mamma, are you not--our big mamma +is gone to London,' said one. + +'Let me tiss you,' said the other, in appearance very much like +the first, but to a smaller pattern. + +Their pink cheeks and yellow hair were speedily intermingled with +the folds of Elfride's dress; she then stooped and tenderly +embraced them both. + +'Such an odd thing,' said Elfride, smiling, and turning to +Stephen. 'They have taken it into their heads lately to call me +"little mamma," because I am very fond of them, and wore a dress +the other day something like one of Lady Luxellian's.' + +These two young creatures were the Honourable Mary and the +Honourable Kate--scarcely appearing large enough as yet to bear +the weight of such ponderous prefixes. They were the only two +children of Lord and Lady Luxellian, and, as it proved, had been +left at home during their parents' temporary absence, in the +custody of nurse and governess. Lord Luxellian was dotingly fond +of the children; rather indifferent towards his wife, since she +had begun to show an inclination not to please him by giving him a +boy. + +All children instinctively ran after Elfride, looking upon her +more as an unusually nice large specimen of their own tribe than +as a grown-up elder. It had now become an established rule, that +whenever she met them--indoors or out-of-doors, weekdays or +Sundays--they were to be severally pressed against her face and +bosom for the space of a quarter of a minute, and other--wise made +much of on the delightful system of cumulative epithet and caress +to which unpractised girls will occasionally abandon themselves. + +A look of misgiving by the youngsters towards the door by which +they had entered directed attention to a maid-servant appearing +from the same quarter, to put an end to this sweet freedom of the +poor Honourables Mary and Kate. + +'I wish you lived here, Miss Swancourt,' piped one like a +melancholy bullfinch. + +'So do I,' piped the other like a rather more melancholy +bullfinch. 'Mamma can't play with us so nicely as you do. I +don't think she ever learnt playing when she was little. When +shall we come to see you?' + +'As soon as you like, dears.' + +'And sleep at your house all night? That's what I mean by coming +to see you. I don't care to see people with hats and bonnets on, +and all standing up and walking about.' + +'As soon as we can get mamma's permission you shall come and stay +as long as ever you like. Good-bye!' + +The prisoners were then led off, Elfride again turning her +attention to her guest, whom she had left standing at the remote +end of the gallery. On looking around for him he was nowhere to +be seen. Elfride stepped down to the library, thinking he might +have rejoined her father there. But Mr. Swancourt, now cheerfully +illuminated by a pair of candles, was still alone, untying packets +of letters and papers, and tying them up again. + +As Elfride did not stand on a sufficiently intimate footing with +the object of her interest to justify her, as a proper young lady, +to commence the active search for him that youthful impulsiveness +prompted, and as, nevertheless, for a nascent reason connected +with those divinely cut lips of his, she did not like him to be +absent from her side, she wandered desultorily back to the oak +staircase, pouting and casting her eyes about in hope of +discerning his boyish figure. + +Though daylight still prevailed in the rooms, the corridors were +in a depth of shadow--chill, sad, and silent; and it was only by +looking along them towards light spaces beyond that anything or +anybody could be discerned therein. One of these light spots she +found to be caused by a side-door with glass panels in the upper +part. Elfride opened it, and found herself confronting a +secondary or inner lawn, separated from the principal lawn front +by a shrubbery. + +And now she saw a perplexing sight. At right angles to the face +of the wing she had emerged from, and within a few feet of the +door, jutted out another wing of the mansion, lower and with less +architectural character. Immediately opposite to her, in the wall +of this wing, was a large broad window, having its blind drawn +down, and illuminated by a light in the room it screened. + +On the blind was a shadow from somebody close inside it--a person +in profile. The profile was unmistakably that of Stephen. It was +just possible to see that his arms were uplifted, and that his +hands held an article of some kind. Then another shadow appeared-- +also in profile--and came close to him. This was the shadow of a +woman. She turned her back towards Stephen: he lifted and held +out what now proved to be a shawl or mantle--placed it carefully-- +so carefully--round the lady; disappeared; reappeared in her +front--fastened the mantle. Did he then kiss her? Surely not. +Yet the motion might have been a kiss. Then both shadows swelled +to colossal dimensions--grew distorted--vanished. + +Two minutes elapsed. + +'Ah, Miss Swancourt! I am so glad to find you. I was looking for +you,' said a voice at her elbow--Stephen's voice. She stepped +into the passage. + +'Do you know any of the members of this establishment?' said she. + +'Not a single one: how should I?' he replied. + + + +Chapter VI + +'Fare thee weel awhile!' + + +Simultaneously with the conclusion of Stephen's remark, the sound +of the closing of an external door in their immediate +neighbourhood reached Elfride's ears. It came from the further +side of the wing containing the illuminated room. She then +discerned, by the aid of the dusky departing light, a figure, +whose sex was undistinguishable, walking down the gravelled path +by the parterre towards the river. The figure grew fainter, and +vanished under the trees. + +Mr. Swancourt's voice was heard calling out their names from a +distant corridor in the body of the building. They retraced their +steps, and found him with his coat buttoned up and his hat on, +awaiting their advent in a mood of self-satisfaction at having +brought his search to a successful close. The carriage was +brought round, and without further delay the trio drove away from +the mansion, under the echoing gateway arch, and along by the +leafless sycamores, as the stars began to kindle their trembling +lights behind the maze of branches and twigs. + +No words were spoken either by youth or maiden. Her unpractised +mind was completely occupied in fathoming its recent acquisition. +The young man who had inspired her with such novelty of feeling, +who had come directly from London on business to her father, +having been brought by chance to Endelstow House had, by some +means or other, acquired the privilege of approaching some lady he +had found therein, and of honouring her by petits soins of a +marked kind,--all in the space of half an hour. + +What room were they standing in? thought Elfride. As nearly as +she could guess, it was Lord Luxellian's business-room, or office. +What people were in the house? None but the governess and +servants, as far as she knew, and of these he had professed a +total ignorance. Had the person she had indistinctly seen leaving +the house anything to do with the performance? It was impossible +to say without appealing to the culprit himself, and that she +would never do. The more Elfride reflected, the more certain did +it appear that the meeting was a chance rencounter, and not an +appointment. On the ultimate inquiry as to the individuality of +the woman, Elfride at once assumed that she could not be an +inferior. Stephen Smith was not the man to care about passages- +at-love with women beneath him. Though gentle, ambition was +visible in his kindling eyes; he evidently hoped for much; hoped +indefinitely, but extensively. Elfride was puzzled, and being +puzzled, was, by a natural sequence of girlish sensations, vexed +with him. No more pleasure came in recognizing that from liking +to attract him she was getting on to love him, boyish as he was +and innocent as he had seemed. + +They reached the bridge which formed a link between the eastern +and western halves of the parish. Situated in a valley that was +bounded outwardly by the sea, it formed a point of depression from +which the road ascended with great steepness to West Endelstow and +the Vicarage. There was no absolute necessity for either of them +to alight, but as it was the vicar's custom after a long journey +to humour the horse in making this winding ascent, Elfride, moved +by an imitative instinct, suddenly jumped out when Pleasant had +just begun to adopt the deliberate stalk he associated with this +portion of the road. + +The young man seemed glad of any excuse for breaking the silence. +'Why, Miss Swancourt, what a risky thing to do!' he exclaimed, +immediately following her example by jumping down on the other +side. + +'Oh no, not at all,' replied she coldly; the shadow phenomenon at +Endelstow House still paramount within her. + +Stephen walked along by himself for two or three minutes, wrapped +in the rigid reserve dictated by her tone. Then apparently +thinking that it was only for girls to pout, he came serenely +round to her side, and offered his arm with Castilian gallantry, +to assist her in ascending the remaining three-quarters of the +steep. + +Here was a temptation: it was the first time in her life that +Elfride had been treated as a grown-up woman in this way--offered +an arm in a manner implying that she had a right to refuse it. +Till to-night she had never received masculine attentions beyond +those which might be contained in such homely remarks as 'Elfride, +give me your hand;' 'Elfride, take hold of my arm,' from her +father. Her callow heart made an epoch of the incident; she +considered her array of feelings, for and against. Collectively +they were for taking this offered arm; the single one of pique +determined her to punish Stephen by refusing. + +'No, thank you, Mr. Smith; I can get along better by myself' + +It was Elfride's first fragile attempt at browbeating a lover. +Fearing more the issue of such an undertaking than what a gentle +young man might think of her waywardness, she immediately +afterwards determined to please herself by reversing her +statement. + +'On second thoughts, I will take it,' she said. + +They slowly went their way up the hill, a few yards behind the +carriage. + +'How silent you are, Miss Swancourt!' Stephen observed. + +'Perhaps I think you silent too,' she returned. + +'I may have reason to be.' + +'Scarcely; it is sadness that makes people silent, and you can +have none.' + +'You don't know: I have a trouble; though some might think it less +a trouble than a dilemma.' + +'What is it?' she asked impulsively. + +Stephen hesitated. 'I might tell,' he said; 'at the same time, +perhaps, it is as well----' + +She let go his arm and imperatively pushed it from her, tossing +her head. She had just learnt that a good deal of dignity is lost +by asking a question to which an answer is refused, even ever so +politely; for though politeness does good service in cases of +requisition and compromise, it but little helps a direct refusal. +'I don't wish to know anything of it; I don't wish it,' she went +on. 'The carriage is waiting for us at the top of the hill; we +must get in;' and Elfride flitted to the front. 'Papa, here is +your Elfride!' she exclaimed to the dusky figure of the old +gentleman, as she sprang up and sank by his side without deigning +to accept aid from Stephen. + +'Ah, yes!' uttered the vicar in artificially alert tones, awaking +from a most profound sleep, and suddenly preparing to alight. + +'Why, what are you doing, papa? We are not home yet.' + +'Oh no, no; of course not; we are not at home yet,' Mr. Swancourt +said very hastily, endeavouring to dodge back to his original +position with the air of a man who had not moved at all. 'The +fact is I was so lost in deep meditation that I forgot whereabouts +we were.' And in a minute the vicar was snoring again. + + +That evening, being the last, seemed to throw an exceptional shade +of sadness over Stephen Smith, and the repeated injunctions of the +vicar, that he was to come and revisit them in the summer, +apparently tended less to raise his spirits than to unearth some +misgiving. + +He left them in the gray light of dawn, whilst the colours of +earth were sombre, and the sun was yet hidden in the east. Elfride +had fidgeted all night in her little bed lest none of the +household should be awake soon enough to start him, and also lest +she might miss seeing again the bright eyes and curly hair, to +which their owner's possession of a hidden mystery added a deeper +tinge of romance. To some extent--so soon does womanly interest +take a solicitous turn--she felt herself responsible for his safe +conduct. They breakfasted before daylight; Mr. Swancourt, being +more and more taken with his guest's ingenuous appearance, having +determined to rise early and bid him a friendly farewell. It was, +however, rather to the vicar's astonishment, that he saw Elfride +walk in to the breakfast-table, candle in hand. + +Whilst William Worm performed his toilet (during which performance +the inmates of the vicarage were always in the habit of waiting +with exemplary patience), Elfride wandered desultorily to the +summer house. Stephen followed her thither. The copse-covered +valley was visible from this position, a mist now lying all along +its length, hiding the stream which trickled through it, though +the observers themselves were in clear air. + +They stood close together, leaning over the rustic balustrading +which bounded the arbour on the outward side, and formed the crest +of a steep slope beneath Elfride constrainedly pointed out some +features of the distant uplands rising irregularly opposite. But +the artistic eye was, either from nature or circumstance, very +faint in Stephen now, and he only half attended to her +description, as if he spared time from some other thought going on +within him. + +'Well, good-bye,' he said suddenly; 'I must never see you again, I +suppose, Miss Swancourt, in spite of invitations.' + +His genuine tribulation played directly upon the delicate chords +of her nature. She could afford to forgive him for a concealment +or two. Moreover, the shyness which would not allow him to look +her in the face lent bravery to her own eyes and tongue. + +'Oh, DO come again, Mr. Smith!' she said prettily. + +'I should delight in it; but it will be better if I do not.' + +'Why?' + +'Certain circumstances in connection with me make it undesirable. +Not on my account; on yours.' + +'Goodness! As if anything in connection with you could hurt me,' +she said with serene supremacy; but seeing that this plan of +treatment was inappropriate, she tuned a smaller note. 'Ah, I +know why you will not come. You don't want to. You'll go home to +London and to all the stirring people there, and will never want +to see us any more!' + +'You know I have no such reason.' + +'And go on writing letters to the lady you are engaged to, just as +before.' + +'What does that mean? I am not engaged.' + +'You wrote a letter to a Miss Somebody; I saw it in the letter- +rack.' + +'Pooh! an elderly woman who keeps a stationer's shop; and it was +to tell her to keep my newspapers till I get back.' + +'You needn't have explained: it was not my business at all.' Miss +Elfride was rather relieved to hear that statement, nevertheless. +'And you won't come again to see my father?' she insisted. + +'I should like to--and to see you again, but----' + +'Will you reveal to me that matter you hide?' she interrupted +petulantly. + +'No; not now.' + +She could not but go on, graceless as it might seem. + +'Tell me this,' she importuned with a trembling mouth. 'Does any +meeting of yours with a lady at Endelstow Vicarage clash with--any +interest you may take in me?' + +He started a little. 'It does not,' he said emphatically; and +looked into the pupils of her eyes with the confidence that only +honesty can give, and even that to youth alone. + +The explanation had not come, but a gloom left her. She could not +but believe that utterance. Whatever enigma might lie in the +shadow on the blind, it was not an enigma of underhand passion. + +She turned towards the house, entering it through the +conservatory. Stephen went round to the front door. Mr. +Swancourt was standing on the step in his slippers. Worm was +adjusting a buckle in the harness, and murmuring about his poor +head; and everything was ready for Stephen's departure. + +'You named August for your visit. August it shall be; that is, if +you care for the society of such a fossilized Tory,' said Mr. +Swancourt. + +Mr. Smith only responded hesitatingly, that he should like to come +again. + +'You said you would, and you must,' insisted Elfride, coming to +the door and speaking under her father's arm. + +Whatever reason the youth may have had for not wishing to enter +the house as a guest, it no longer predominated. He promised, and +bade them adieu, and got into the pony-carriage, which crept up +the slope, and bore him out of their sight. + +'I never was so much taken with anybody in my life as I am with +that young fellow--never! I cannot understand it--can't understand +it anyhow,' said Mr. Swancourt quite energetically to himself; and +went indoors. + + + +Chapter VII + +'No more of me you knew, my love!' + + +Stephen Smith revisited Endelstow Vicarage, agreeably to his +promise. He had a genuine artistic reason for coming, though no +such reason seemed to be required. Six-and-thirty old seat ends, +of exquisite fifteenth-century workmanship, were rapidly decaying +in an aisle of the church; and it became politic to make drawings +of their worm-eaten contours ere they were battered past +recognition in the turmoil of the so-called restoration. + +He entered the house at sunset, and the world was pleasant again +to the two fair-haired ones. A momentary pang of disappointment +had, nevertheless, passed through Elfride when she casually +discovered that he had not come that minute post-haste from +London, but had reached the neighbourhood the previous evening. +Surprise would have accompanied the feeling, had she not +remembered that several tourists were haunting the coast at this +season, and that Stephen might have chosen to do likewise. + +They did little besides chat that evening, Mr. Swancourt beginning +to question his visitor, closely yet paternally, and in good part, +on his hopes and prospects from the profession he had embraced. +Stephen gave vague answers. The next day it rained. In the +evening, when twenty-four hours of Elfride had completely +rekindled her admirer's ardour, a game of chess was proposed +between them. + +The game had its value in helping on the developments of their +future. + +Elfride soon perceived that her opponent was but a learner. She +next noticed that he had a very odd way of handling the pieces +when castling or taking a man. Antecedently she would have +supposed that the same performance must be gone through by all +players in the same manner; she was taught by his differing action +that all ordinary players, who learn the game by sight, +unconsciously touch the men in a stereotyped way. This impression +of indescribable oddness in Stephen's touch culminated in speech +when she saw him, at the taking of one of her bishops, push it +aside with the taking man instead of lifting it as a preliminary +to the move. + +'How strangely you handle the men, Mr. Smith!' + +'Do I? I am sorry for that.' + +'Oh no--don't be sorry; it is not a matter great enough for +sorrow. But who taught you to play?' + +'Nobody, Miss Swancourt,' he said. 'I learnt from a book lent me +by my friend Mr. Knight, the noblest man in the world.' + +'But you have seen people play?' + +'I have never seen the playing of a single game. This is the +first time I ever had the opportunity of playing with a living +opponent. I have worked out many games from books, and studied +the reasons of the different moves, but that is all.' + +This was a full explanation of his mannerism; but the fact that a +man with the desire for chess should have grown up without being +able to see or engage in a game astonished her not a little. She +pondered on the circumstance for some time, looking into vacancy +and hindering the play. + +Mr. Swancourt was sitting with his eyes fixed on the board, but +apparently thinking of other things. Half to himself he said, +pending the move of Elfride: + +'"Quae finis aut quod me manet stipendium?"' + +Stephen replied instantly: + +'"Effare: jussas cum fide poenas luam."' + +'Excellent--prompt--gratifying!' said Mr. Swancourt with feeling, +bringing down his hand upon the table, and making three pawns and +a knight dance over their borders by the shaking. 'I was musing +on those words as applicable to a strange course I am steering-- +but enough of that. I am delighted with you, Mr. Smith, for it is +so seldom in this desert that I meet with a man who is gentleman +and scholar enough to continue a quotation, however trite it may +be.' + +'I also apply the words to myself,' said Stephen quietly. + +'You? The last man in the world to do that, I should have +thought.' + +'Come,' murmured Elfride poutingly, and insinuating herself +between them, 'tell me all about it. Come, construe, construe!' + +Stephen looked steadfastly into her face, and said slowly, and in +a voice full of a far-off meaning that seemed quaintly premature +in one so young: + +'Quae finis WHAT WILL BE THE END, aut OR, quod stipendium WHAT +FINE, manet me AWAITS ME? Effare SPEAK OUT; luam I WILL PAY, cum +fide WITH FAITH, jussas poenas THE PENALTY REQUIRED.' + +The vicar, who had listened with a critical compression of the +lips to this school-boy recitation, and by reason of his imperfect +hearing had missed the marked realism of Stephen's tone in the +English words, now said hesitatingly: 'By the bye, Mr. Smith (I +know you'll excuse my curiosity), though your translation was +unexceptionably correct and close, you have a way of pronouncing +your Latin which to me seems most peculiar. Not that the +pronunciation of a dead language is of much importance; yet your +accents and quantities have a grotesque sound to my ears. I +thought first that you had acquired your way of breathing the +vowels from some of the northern colleges; but it cannot be so +with the quantities. What I was going to ask was, if your +instructor in the classics could possibly have been an Oxford or +Cambridge man?' + +'Yes; he was an Oxford man--Fellow of St. Cyprian's.' + +'Really?' + +'Oh yes; there's no doubt about it. + +'The oddest thing ever I heard of!' said Mr. Swancourt, starting +with astonishment. 'That the pupil of such a man----' + +'The best and cleverest man in England!' cried Stephen +enthusiastically. + +'That the pupil of such a man should pronounce Latin in the way +you pronounce it beats all I ever heard. How long did he instruct +you?' + +'Four years.' + +'Four years!' + +'It is not so strange when I explain,' Stephen hastened to say. +'It was done in this way--by letter. I sent him exercises and +construing twice a week, and twice a week he sent them back to me +corrected, with marginal notes of instruction. That is how I +learnt my Latin and Greek, such as it is. He is not responsible +for my scanning. He has never heard me scan a line.' + +'A novel case, and a singular instance of patience!' cried the +vicar. + +'On his part, not on mine. Ah, Henry Knight is one in a thousand! +I remember his speaking to me on this very subject of +pronunciation. He says that, much to his regret, he sees a time +coming when every man will pronounce even the common words of his +own tongue as seems right in his own ears, and be thought none the +worse for it; that the speaking age is passing away, to make room +for the writing age.' + +Both Elfride and her father had waited attentively to hear Stephen +go on to what would have been the most interesting part of the +story, namely, what circumstances could have necessitated such an +unusual method of education. But no further explanation was +volunteered; and they saw, by the young man's manner of +concentrating himself upon the chess-board, that he was anxious to +drop the subject. + +The game proceeded. Elfride played by rote; Stephen by thought. +It was the cruellest thing to checkmate him after so much labour, +she considered. What was she dishonest enough to do in her +compassion? To let him checkmate her. A second game followed; and +being herself absolutely indifferent as to the result (her playing +was above the average among women, and she knew it), she allowed +him to give checkmate again. A final game, in which she adopted +the Muzio gambit as her opening, was terminated by Elfride's +victory at the twelfth move. + +Stephen looked up suspiciously. His heart was throbbing even more +excitedly than was hers, which itself had quickened when she +seriously set to work on this last occasion. Mr. Swancourt had +left the room. + +'You have been trifling with me till now!' he exclaimed, his face +flushing. 'You did not play your best in the first two games?' + +Elfride's guilt showed in her face. Stephen became the picture of +vexation and sadness, which, relishable for a moment, caused her +the next instant to regret the mistake she had made. + +'Mr. Smith, forgive me!' she said sweetly. 'I see now, though I +did not at first, that what I have done seems like contempt for +your skill. But, indeed, I did not mean it in that sense. I +could not, upon my conscience, win a victory in those first and +second games over one who fought at such a disadvantage and so +manfully.' + +He drew a long breath, and murmured bitterly, 'Ah, you are +cleverer than I. You can do everything--I can do nothing! O Miss +Swancourt!' he burst out wildly, his heart swelling in his throat, +'I must tell you how I love you! All these months of my absence I +have worshipped you.' + +He leapt from his seat like the impulsive lad that he was, slid +round to her side, and almost before she suspected it his arm was +round her waist, and the two sets of curls intermingled. + +So entirely new was full-blown love to Elfride, that she trembled +as much from the novelty of the emotion as from the emotion +itself. Then she suddenly withdrew herself and stood upright, +vexed that she had submitted unresistingly even to his momentary +pressure. She resolved to consider this demonstration as +premature. + +'You must not begin such things as those,' she said with +coquettish hauteur of a very transparent nature 'And--you must not +do so again--and papa is coming.' + +'Let me kiss you--only a little one,' he said with his usual +delicacy, and without reading the factitiousness of her manner. + +'No; not one.' + +'Only on your cheek?' + +'No.' + +'Forehead?' + +'Certainly not.' + +'You care for somebody else, then? Ah, I thought so!' + +'I am sure I do not.' + +'Nor for me either?' + +'How can I tell?' she said simply, the simplicity lying merely in +the broad outlines of her manner and speech. There were the +semitone of voice and half-hidden expression of eyes which tell +the initiated how very fragile is the ice of reserve at these +times. + +Footsteps were heard. Mr. Swancourt then entered the room, and +their private colloquy ended. + +The day after this partial revelation, Mr. Swancourt proposed a +drive to the cliffs beyond Targan Bay, a distance of three or four +miles. + +Half an hour before the time of departure a crash was heard in the +back yard, and presently Worm came in, saying partly to the world +in general, part]y to himself, and slightly to his auditors: + +'Ay, ay, sure! That frying of fish will be the end of William +Worm. They be at it again this morning--same as ever--fizz, fizz, +fizz!' + +'Your head bad again, Worm?' said Mr. Swancourt. 'What was that +noise we heard in the yard?' + +'Ay, sir, a weak wambling man am I; and the frying have been going +on in my poor head all through the long night and this morning as +usual; and I was so dazed wi' it that down fell a piece of leg- +wood across the shaft of the pony-shay, and splintered it off. +"Ay," says I, "I feel it as if 'twas my own shay; and though I've +done it, and parish pay is my lot if I go from here, perhaps I am +as independent as one here and there."' + +'Dear me, the shaft of the carriage broken!' cried Elfride. She +was disappointed: Stephen doubly so. The vicar showed more warmth +of temper than the accident seemed to demand, much to Stephen's +uneasiness and rather to his surprise. He had not supposed so +much latent sternness could co-exist with Mr. Swancourt's +frankness and good-nature. + +'You shall not be disappointed,' said the vicar at length. 'It is +almost too long a distance for you to walk. Elfride can trot down +on her pony, and you shall have my old nag, Smith.' + +Elfride exclaimed triumphantly, 'You have never seen me on +horseback--Oh, you must!' She looked at Stephen and read his +thoughts immediately. 'Ah, you don't ride, Mr. Smith?' + +'I am sorry to say I don't.' + +'Fancy a man not able to ride!' said she rather pertly. + +The vicar came to his rescue. 'That's common enough; he has had +other lessons to learn. Now, I recommend this plan: let Elfride +ride on horseback, and you, Mr. Smith, walk beside her.' + +The arrangement was welcomed with secret delight by Stephen. It +seemed to combine in itself all the advantages of a long slow +ramble with Elfride, without the contingent possibility of the +enjoyment being spoilt by her becoming weary. The pony was +saddled and brought round. + +'Now, Mr. Smith,' said the lady imperatively, coming downstairs, +and appearing in her riding-habit, as she always did in a change +of dress, like a new edition of a delightful volume, 'you have a +task to perform to-day. These earrings are my very favourite +darling ones; but the worst of it is that they have such short +hooks that they are liable to be dropped if I toss my head about +much, and when I am riding I can't give my mind to them. It would +be doing me knight service if you keep your eyes fixed upon them, +and remember them every minute of the day, and tell me directly I +drop one. They have had such hairbreadth escapes, haven't they, +Unity?' she continued to the parlour-maid who was standing at the +door. + +'Yes, miss, that they have!' said Unity with round-eyed +commiseration. + +'Once 'twas in the lane that I found one of them,' pursued Elfride +reflectively. + +'And then 'twas by the gate into Eighteen Acres,' Unity chimed in. + +'And then 'twas on the carpet in my own room,' rejoined Elfride +merrily. + +'And then 'twas dangling on the embroidery of your petticoat, +miss; and then 'twas down your back, miss, wasn't it? And oh, what +a way you was in, miss, wasn't you? my! until you found it!' + +Stephen took Elfride's slight foot upon his hand: 'One, two, +three, and up!' she said. + +Unfortunately not so. He staggered and lifted, and the horse +edged round; and Elfride was ultimately deposited upon the ground +rather more forcibly than was pleasant. Smith looked all +contrition. + +'Never mind,' said the vicar encouragingly; 'try again! 'Tis a +little accomplishment that requires some practice, although it +looks so easy. Stand closer to the horse's head, Mr. Smith.' + +'Indeed, I shan't let him try again,' said she with a microscopic +look of indignation. 'Worm, come here, and help me to mount.' +Worm stepped forward, and she was in the saddle in a trice. + +Then they moved on, going for some distance in silence, the hot +air of the valley being occasionally brushed from their faces by a +cool breeze, which wound its way along ravines leading up from the +sea. + +'I suppose,' said Stephen, 'that a man who can neither sit in a +saddle himself nor help another person into one seems a useless +incumbrance; but, Miss Swancourt, I'll learn to do it all for your +sake; I will, indeed.' + +'What is so unusual in you,' she said, in a didactic tone +justifiable in a horsewoman's address to a benighted walker, 'is +that your knowledge of certain things should be combined with your +ignorance of certain other things.' + +Stephen lifted his eyes earnestly to hers. + +'You know,' he said, 'it is simply because there are so many other +things to be learnt in this wide world that I didn't trouble about +that particular bit of knowledge. I thought it would be useless +to me; but I don't think so now. I will learn riding, and all +connected with it, because then you would like me better. Do you +like me much less for this?' + +She looked sideways at him with critical meditation tenderly +rendered. + +'Do I seem like LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI?' she began suddenly, +without replying to his question. 'Fancy yourself saying, Mr. +Smith: + + + "I sat her on my pacing steed, + And nothing else saw all day long, + For sidelong would she bend, and sing + A fairy's song, + She found me roots of relish sweet, + And honey wild, and manna dew; " + + +and that's all she did.' + +'No, no,' said the young man stilly, and with a rising colour. + + + + '"And sure in language strange she said, + I love thee true."' + + + +'Not at all,' she rejoined quickly. 'See how I can gallop. Now, +Pansy, off!' And Elfride started; and Stephen beheld her light +figure contracting to the dimensions of a bird as she sank into +the distance--her hair flowing. + +He walked on in the same direction, and for a considerable time +could see no signs of her returning. Dull as a flower without the +sun he sat down upon a stone, and not for fifteen minutes was any +sound of horse or rider to be heard. Then Elfride and Pansy +appeared on the hill in a round trot. + +'Such a delightful scamper as we have had!' she said, her face +flushed and her eyes sparkling. She turned the horse's head, +Stephen arose, and they went on again. + +'Well, what have you to say to me, Mr. Smith, after my long +absence?' + +'Do you remember a question you could not exactly answer last +night--whether I was more to you than anybody else?' said he. + +'I cannot exactly answer now, either.' + +'Why can't you?' + +'Because I don't know if I am more to you than any one else.' + +'Yes, indeed, you are!' he exclaimed in a voice of intensest +appreciation, at the same time gliding round and looking into her +face. + +'Eyes in eyes,' he murmured playfully; and she blushingly obeyed, +looking back into his. + +'And why not lips on lips?' continued Stephen daringly. + +'No, certainly not. Anybody might look; and it would be the death +of me. You may kiss my hand if you like.' + +He expressed by a look that to kiss a hand through a glove, and +that a riding-glove, was not a great treat under the +circumstances. + +'There, then; I'll take my glove off. Isn't it a pretty white +hand? Ah, you don't want to kiss it, and you shall not now!' + +'If I do not, may I never kiss again, you severe Elfride! You know +I think more of you than I can tell; that you are my queen. I +would die for you, Elfride!' + +A rapid red again filled her cheeks, and she looked at him +meditatively. What a proud moment it was for Elfride then! She +was ruling a heart with absolute despotism for the first time in +her life. + +Stephen stealthily pounced upon her hand. + +'No; I won't, I won't!' she said intractably; 'and you shouldn't +take me by surprise.' + +There ensued a mild form of tussle for absolute possession of the +much-coveted hand, in which the boisterousness of boy and girl was +far more prominent than the dignity of man and woman. Then Pansy +became restless. Elfride recovered her position and remembered +herself. + +'You make me behave in not a nice way at all!' she exclaimed, in a +tone neither of pleasure nor anger, but partaking of both. 'I +ought not to have allowed such a romp! We are too old now for that +sort of thing.' + +'I hope you don't think me too--too much of a creeping-round sort +of man,' said he in a penitent tone, conscious that he too had +lost a little dignity by the proceeding. + +'You are too familiar; and I can't have it! Considering the +shortness of the time we have known each other, Mr. Smith, you +take too much upon you. You think I am a country girl, and it +doesn't matter how you behave to me!' + +'I assure you, Miss Swancourt, that I had no idea of freak in my +mind. I wanted to imprint a sweet--serious kiss upon your hand; +and that's all.' + +'Now, that's creeping round again! And you mustn't look into my +eyes so,' she said, shaking her head at him, and trotting on a few +paces in advance. Thus she led the way out of the lane and across +some fields in the direction of the cliffs. At the boundary of +the fields nearest the sea she expressed a wish to dismount. The +horse was tied to a post. and they both followed an irregular +path, which ultimately terminated upon a flat ledge passing round +the face of the huge blue-black rock at a height about midway +between the sea and the topmost verge. There, far beneath and +before them, lay the everlasting stretch of ocean; there, upon +detached rocks, were the white screaming gulls, seeming ever +intending to settle, and yet always passing on. Right and left +ranked the toothed and zigzag line of storm-torn heights, forming +the series which culminated in the one beneath their feet. + +Behind the youth and maiden was a tempting alcove and seat, formed +naturally in the beetling mass, and wide enough to admit two or +three persons. Elfride sat down, and Stephen sat beside her. + +'I am afraid it is hardly proper of us to be here, either,' she +said half inquiringly. 'We have not known each other long enough +for this kind of thing, have we!' + +'Oh yes,' he replied judicially; 'quite long enough.' + +'How do you know?' + +'It is not length of time, but the manner in which our minutes +beat, that makes enough or not enough in our acquaintanceship.' + +'Yes, I see that. But I wish papa suspected or knew what a VERY +NEW THING I am doing. He does not think of it at all.' + +'Darling Elfie, I wish we could be married! It is wrong for me to +say it--I know it is--before you know more; but I wish we might +be, all the same. Do you love me deeply, deeply?' + +'No!' she said in a fluster. + +At this point-blank denial, Stephen turned his face away +decisively, and preserved an ominous silence; the only objects of +interest on earth for him being apparently the three or four-score +sea-birds circling in the air afar off. + +'I didn't mean to stop you quite,' she faltered with some alarm; +and seeing that he still remained silent, she added more +anxiously, 'If you say that again, perhaps, I will not be quite-- +quite so obstinate--if--if you don't like me to be.' + +'Oh, my Elfride!' he exclaimed, and kissed her. + +It was Elfride's first kiss. And so awkward and unused was she; +full of striving--no relenting. There was none of those apparent +struggles to get out of the trap which only results in getting +further in: no final attitude of receptivity: no easy close of +shoulder to shoulder, hand upon hand, face upon face, and, in +spite of coyness, the lips in the right place at the supreme +moment. That graceful though apparently accidental falling into +position, which many have noticed as precipitating the end and +making sweethearts the sweeter, was not here. Why? Because +experience was absent. A woman must have had many kisses before +she kisses well. + +In fact, the art of tendering the lips for these amatory salutes +follows the principles laid down in treatises on legerdemain for +performing the trick called Forcing a Card. The card is to be +shifted nimbly, withdrawn, edged under, and withal not to be +offered till the moment the unsuspecting person's hand reaches the +pack; this forcing to be done so modestly and yet so coaxingly, +that the person trifled with imagines he is really choosing what +is in fact thrust into his hand. + +Well, there were no such facilities now; and Stephen was conscious +of it--first with a momentary regret that his kiss should be +spoilt by her confused receipt of it, and then with the pleasant +perception that her awkwardness was her charm. + +'And you do care for me and love me?' said he. + +'Yes.' + +'Very much?' + +'Yes.' + +'And I mustn't ask you if you'll wait for me, and be my wife some +day?' + +'Why not?' she said naively. + +'There is a reason why, my Elfride.' + +'Not any one that I know of.' + +'Suppose there is something connected with me which makes it +almost impossible for you to agree to be my wife, or for your +father to countenance such an idea?' + +'Nothing shall make me cease to love you: no blemish can be found +upon your personal nature. That is pure and generous, I know; and +having that, how can I be cold to you?' + +'And shall nothing else affect us--shall nothing beyond my nature +be a part of my quality in your eyes, Elfie?' + +'Nothing whatever,' she said with a breath of relief. 'Is that +all? Some outside circumstance? What do I care?' + +'You can hardly judge, dear, till you know what has to be judged. +For that, we will stop till we get home. I believe in you, but I +cannot feel bright.' + +'Love is new, and fresh to us as the dew; and we are together. As +the lover's world goes, this is a great deal. Stephen, I fancy I +see the difference between me and you--between men and women +generally, perhaps. I am content to build happiness on any +accidental basis that may lie near at hand; you are for making a +world to suit your happiness.' + +'Elfride, you sometimes say things which make you seem suddenly to +become five years older than you are, or than I am; and that +remark is one. I couldn't think so OLD as that, try how I +might....And no lover has ever kissed you before?' + +'Never.' + +'I knew that; you were so unused. You ride well, but you don't +kiss nicely at all; and I was told once, by my friend Knight, that +that is an excellent fault in woman.' + +'Now, come; I must mount again, or we shall not be home by dinner- +time.' And they returned to where Pansy stood tethered. 'Instead +of entrusting my weight to a young man's unstable palm,' she +continued gaily, 'I prefer a surer "upping-stock" (as the +villagers call it), in the form of a gate. There--now I am myself +again.' + +They proceeded homeward at the same walking pace. + +Her blitheness won Stephen out of his thoughtfulness, and each +forgot everything but the tone of the moment. + +'What did you love me for?' she said, after a long musing look at +a flying bird. + +'I don't know,' he replied idly. + +'Oh yes, you do,' insisted Elfride. + +'Perhaps, for your eyes.' + +'What of them?--now, don't vex me by a light answer. What of my +eyes?' + +'Oh, nothing to be mentioned. They are indifferently good.' + +'Come, Stephen, I won't have that. What did you love me for?' + +'It might have been for your mouth?' + +'Well, what about my mouth?' + +'I thought it was a passable mouth enough----' + +'That's not very comforting.' + +'With a pretty pout and sweet lips; but actually, nothing more +than what everybody has.' + +'Don't make up things out of your head as you go on, there's a +dear Stephen. Now--what--did--you--love--me--for?' + +'Perhaps, 'twas for your neck and hair; though I am not sure: or +for your idle blood, that did nothing but wander away from your +cheeks and back again; but I am not sure. Or your hands and arms, +that they eclipsed all other hands and arms; or your feet, that +they played about under your dress like little mice; or your +tongue, that it was of a dear delicate tone. But I am not +altogether sure.' + +'Ah, that's pretty to say; but I don't care for your love, if it +made a mere flat picture of me in that way, and not being sure, +and such cold reasoning; but what you FELT I was, you know, +Stephen' (at this a stealthy laugh and frisky look into his face), +'when you said to yourself, "I'll certainly love that young +lady."' + +'I never said it.' + +'When you said to yourself, then, "I never will love that young +lady."' + +'I didn't say that, either.' + +'Then was it, "I suppose I must love that young lady?"' + +'No.' + +'What, then?' + +''Twas much more fluctuating--not so definite.' + +'Tell me; do, do.' + +'It was that I ought not to think about you if I loved you truly.' + +'Ah, that I don't understand. There's no getting it out of you. +And I'll not ask you ever any more--never more--to say out of the +deep reality of your heart what you loved me for.' + +'Sweet tantalizer, what's the use? It comes to this sole simple +thing: That at one time I had never seen you, and I didn't love +you; that then I saw you, and I did love you. Is that enough?' + +'Yes; I will make it do....I know, I think, what I love you for. +You are nice-looking, of course; but I didn't mean for that. It +is because you are so docile and gentle.' + +'Those are not quite the correct qualities for a man to be loved +for,' said Stephen, in rather a dissatisfied tone of self- +criticism. 'Well, never mind. I must ask your father to allow us +to be engaged directly we get indoors. It will be for a long +time.' + +'I like it the better....Stephen, don't mention it till to- +morrow.' + +'Why?' + +'Because, if he should object--I don't think he will; but if he +should--we shall have a day longer of happiness from our +ignorance....Well, what are you thinking of so deeply?' + +'I was thinking how my dear friend Knight would enjoy this scene. +I wish he could come here.' + +'You seem very much engrossed with him,' she answered, with a +jealous little toss. 'He must be an interesting man to take up so +much of your attention.' + +'Interesting!' said Stephen, his face glowing with his fervour; +'noble, you ought to say.' + +'Oh yes, yes; I forgot,' she said half satirically. 'The noblest +man in England, as you told us last night.' + +'He is a fine fellow, laugh as you will, Miss Elfie.' + +'I know he is your hero. But what does he do? anything?' + +'He writes.' + +'What does he write? I have never heard of his name.' + +'Because his personality, and that of several others like him, is +absorbed into a huge WE, namely, the impalpable entity called the +PRESENT--a social and literary Review.' + +'Is he only a reviewer?' + +'ONLY, Elfie! Why, I can tell you it is a fine thing to be on the +staff of the PRESENT. Finer than being a novelist considerably.' + +'That's a hit at me, and my poor COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE.' + +'No, Elfride,' he whispered; 'I didn't mean that. I mean that he +is really a literary man of some eminence, and not altogether a +reviewer. He writes things of a higher class than reviews, though +he reviews a book occasionally. His ordinary productions are +social and ethical essays--all that the PRESENT contains which is +not literary reviewing.' + +'I admit he must be talented if he writes for the PRESENT. We +have it sent to us irregularly. I want papa to be a subscriber, +but he's so conservative. Now the next point in this Mr. Knight-- +I suppose he is a very good man.' + +'An excellent man. I shall try to be his intimate friend some +day.' + +'But aren't you now?' + +'No; not so much as that,' replied Stephen, as if such a +supposition were extravagant. 'You see, it was in this way--he +came originally from the same place as I, and taught me things; +but I am not intimate with him. Shan't I be glad when I get +richer and better known, and hob and nob with him!' Stephen's eyes +sparkled. + +A pout began to shape itself upon Elfride's soft lips. 'You think +always of him, and like him better than you do me!' + +'No, indeed, Elfride. The feeling is different quite. But I do +like him, and he deserves even more affection from me than I +give.' + +'You are not nice now, and you make me as jealous as possible!' +she exclaimed perversely. 'I know you will never speak to any +third person of me so warmly as you do to me of him.' + +'But you don't understand, Elfride,' he said with an anxious +movement. 'You shall know him some day. He is so brilliant--no, +it isn't exactly brilliant; so thoughtful--nor does thoughtful +express him--that it would charm you to talk to him. He's a most +desirable friend, and that isn't half I could say.' + +'I don't care how good he is; I don't want to know him, because he +comes between me and you. You think of him night and day, ever so +much more than of anybody else; and when you are thinking of him, +I am shut out of your mind.' + +'No, dear Elfride; I love you dearly.' + +'And I don't like you to tell me so warmly about him when you are +in the middle of loving me. Stephen, suppose that I and this man +Knight of yours were both drowning, and you could only save one of +us----' + +'Yes--the stupid old proposition--which would I save? + +'Well, which? Not me.' + +'Both of you,' he said, pressing her pendent hand. + +'No, that won't do; only one of us.' + +'I cannot say; I don't know. It is disagreeable--quite a horrid +idea to have to handle.' + +'A-ha, I know. You would save him, and let me drown, drown, +drown; and I don't care about your love!' + +She had endeavoured to give a playful tone to her words, but the +latter speech was rather forced in its gaiety. + +At this point in the discussion she trotted off to turn a corner +which was avoided by the footpath, the road and the path reuniting +at a point a little further on. On again making her appearance +she continually managed to look in a direction away from him, and +left him in the cool shade of her displeasure. Stephen was soon +beaten at this game of indifference. He went round and entered +the range of her vision. + +'Are you offended, Elfie? Why don't you talk?' + +'Save me, then, and let that Mr. Clever of yours drown. I hate +him. Now, which would you?' + +'Really, Elfride, you should not press such a hard question. It +is ridiculous.' + +'Then I won't be alone with you any more. Unkind, to wound me +so!' She laughed at her own absurdity but persisted. + +'Come, Elfie, let's make it up and be friends.' + +'Say you would save me, then, and let him drown.' + +'I would save you--and him too.' + +'And let him drown. Come, or you don't love me!' she teasingly +went on. + +'And let him drown,' he ejaculated despairingly. + +'There; now I am yours!' she said, and a woman's flush of triumph +lit her eyes. + + + +'Only one earring, miss, as I'm alive,' said Unity on their +entering the hall. + +With a face expressive of wretched misgiving, Elfride's hand flew +like an arrow to her ear. + +'There!' she exclaimed to Stephen, looking at him with eyes full +of reproach. + +'I quite forgot, indeed. If I had only remembered!' he answered, +with a conscience-stricken face. + +She wheeled herself round, and turned into the shrubbery. Stephen +followed. + +'If you had told me to watch anything, Stephen, I should have +religiously done it,' she capriciously went on, as soon as she +heard him behind her. + +'Forgetting is forgivable.' + +'Well, you will find it, if you want me to respect you and be +engaged to you when we have asked papa.' She considered a moment, +and added more seriously, 'I know now where I dropped it, Stephen. +It was on the cliff. I remember a faint sensation of some change +about me, but I was too absent to think of it then. And that's +where it is now, and you must go and look there.' + +'I'll go at once.' + +And he strode away up the valley, under a broiling sun and amid +the deathlike silence of early afternoon. He ascended, with +giddy-paced haste, the windy range of rocks to where they had sat, +felt and peered about the stones and crannies, but Elfride's stray +jewel was nowhere to be seen. Next Stephen slowly retraced his +steps, and, pausing at a cross-road to reflect a while, he left +the plateau and struck downwards across some fields, in the +direction of Endelstow House. + +He walked along the path by the river without the slightest +hesitation as to its bearing, apparently quite familiar with every +inch of the ground. As the shadows began to lengthen and the +sunlight to mellow, he passed through two wicket-gates, and drew +near the outskirts of Endelstow Park. The river now ran along +under the park fence, previous to entering the grove itself, a +little further on. + +Here stood a cottage, between the fence and the stream, on a +slightly elevated spot of ground, round which the river took a +turn. The characteristic feature of this snug habitation was its +one chimney in the gable end, its squareness of form disguised by +a huge cloak of ivy, which had grown so luxuriantly and extended +so far from its base, as to increase the apparent bulk of the +chimney to the dimensions of a tower. Some little distance from +the back of the house rose the park boundary, and over this were +to be seen the sycamores of the grove, making slow inclinations to +the just-awakening air. + +Stephen crossed the little wood bridge in front, went up to the +cottage door, and opened it without knock or signal of any kind. + +Exclamations of welcome burst from some person or persons when the +door was thrust ajar, followed by the scrape of chairs on a stone +floor, as if pushed back by their occupiers in rising from a +table. The door was closed again, and nothing could now be heard +from within, save a lively chatter and the rattle of plates. + + + +Chapter VIII + +'Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord.' + + +The mists were creeping out of pools and swamps for their +pilgrimages of the night when Stephen came up to the front door of +the vicarage. Elfride was standing on the step illuminated by a +lemon-hued expanse of western sky. + +'You never have been all this time looking for that earring?' she +said anxiously. + +'Oh no; and I have not found it.' + +'Never mind. Though I am much vexed; they are my prettiest. But, +Stephen, what ever have you been doing--where have you been? I +have been so uneasy. I feared for you, knowing not an inch of the +country. I thought, suppose he has fallen over the cliff! But now +I am inclined to scold you for frightening me so.' + +'I must speak to your father now,' he said rather abruptly; 'I +have so much to say to him--and to you, Elfride.' + +'Will what you have to say endanger this nice time of ours, and is +it that same shadowy secret you allude to so frequently, and will +it make me unhappy?' + +'Possibly.' + +She breathed heavily, and looked around as if for a prompter. + +'Put it off till to-morrow,' she said. + +He involuntarily sighed too. + +'No; it must come to-night. Where is your father, Elfride?' + +'Somewhere in the kitchen garden, I think,' she replied. 'That is +his favourite evening retreat. I will leave you now. Say all +that's to be said--do all there is to be done. Think of me +waiting anxiously for the end.' And she re-entered the house. + +She waited in the drawing-room, watching the lights sink to +shadows, the shadows sink to darkness, until her impatience to +know what had occurred in the garden could no longer be +controlled. She passed round the shrubbery, unlatched the garden +door, and skimmed with her keen eyes the whole twilighted space +that the four walls enclosed and sheltered: they were not there. +She mounted a little ladder, which had been used for gathering +fruit, and looked over the wall into the field. This field +extended to the limits of the glebe, which was enclosed on that +side by a privet-hedge. Under the hedge was Mr. Swancourt, +walking up and down, and talking aloud--to himself, as it sounded +at first. No: another voice shouted occasional replies ; and this +interlocutor seemed to be on the other side of the hedge. The +voice, though soft in quality, was not Stephen's. + +The second speaker must have been in the long-neglected garden of +an old manor-house hard by, which, together with a small estate +attached, had lately been purchased by a person named Troyton, +whom Elfride had never seen. Her father might have struck up an +acquaintanceship with some member of that family through the +privet-hedge, or a stranger to the neighbourhood might have +wandered thither. + +Well, there was no necessity for disturbing him. + +And it seemed that, after all, Stephen had not yet made his +desired communication to her father. Again she went indoors, +wondering where Stephen could be. For want of something better to +do, she went upstairs to her own little room. Here she sat down +at the open window, and, leaning with her elbow on the table and +her cheek upon her hand, she fell into meditation. + +It was a hot and still August night. Every disturbance of the +silence which rose to the dignity of a noise could be heard for +miles, and the merest sound for a long distance. So she remained, +thinking of Stephen, and wishing he had not deprived her of his +company to no purpose, as it appeared. How delicate and sensitive +he was, she reflected; and yet he was man enough to have a private +mystery, which considerably elevated him in her eyes. Thus, +looking at things with an inward vision, she lost consciousness of +the flight of time. + +Strange conjunctions of circumstances, particularly those of a +trivial everyday kind, are so frequent in an ordinary life, that +we grow used to their unaccountableness, and forget the question +whether the very long odds against such juxtaposition is not +almost a disproof of it being a matter of chance at all. What +occurred to Elfride at this moment was a case in point. She was +vividly imagining, for the twentieth time, the kiss of the +morning, and putting her lips together in the position another +such a one would demand, when she heard the identical operation +performed on the lawn, immediately beneath her window. + +A kiss--not of the quiet and stealthy kind, but decisive, loud, +and smart. + +Her face flushed and she looked out, but to no purpose. The dark +rim of the upland drew a keen sad line against the pale glow of +the sky, unbroken except where a young cedar on the lawn, that had +outgrown its fellow trees, shot its pointed head across the +horizon, piercing the firmamental lustre like a sting. + +It was just possible that, had any persons been standing on the +grassy portions of the lawn, Elfride might have seen their dusky +forms. But the shrubs, which once had merely dotted the glade, +had now grown bushy and large, till they hid at least half the +enclosure containing them. The kissing pair might have been +behind some of these; at any rate, nobody was in sight. + +Had no enigma ever been connected with her lover by his hints and +absences, Elfride would never have thought of admitting into her +mind a suspicion that he might be concerned in the foregoing +enactment. But the reservations he at present insisted on, while +they added to the mystery without which perhaps she would never +have seriously loved him at all, were calculated to nourish doubts +of all kinds, and with a slow flush of jealousy she asked herself, +might he not be the culprit? + +Elfride glided downstairs on tiptoe, and out to the precise spot +on which she had parted from Stephen to enable him to speak +privately to her father. Thence she wandered into all the nooks +around the place from which the sound seemed to proceed--among the +huge laurestines, about the tufts of pampas grasses, amid the +variegated hollies, under the weeping wych-elm--nobody was there. +Returning indoors she called 'Unity!' + +'She is gone to her aunt's, to spend the evening,' said Mr. +Swancourt, thrusting his head out of his study door, and letting +the light of his candles stream upon Elfride's face--less +revealing than, as it seemed to herself, creating the blush of +uneasy perplexity that was burning upon her cheek. + +'I didn't know you were indoors, papa,' she said with surprise. +'Surely no light was shining from the window when I was on the +lawn?' and she looked and saw that the shutters were still open. + +'Oh yes, I am in,' he said indifferently. 'What did you want +Unity for? I think she laid supper before she went out.' + +'Did she?--I have not been to see--I didn't want her for that.' + +Elfride scarcely knew, now that a definite reason was required, +what that reason was. Her mind for a moment strayed to another +subject, unimportant as it seemed. The red ember of a match was +lying inside the fender, which explained that why she had seen no +rays from the window was because the candles had only just been +lighted. + +'I'll come directly,' said the vicar. 'I thought you were out +somewhere with Mr. Smith.' + +Even the inexperienced Elfride could not help thinking that her +father must be wonderfully blind if he failed to perceive what was +the nascent consequence of herself and Stephen being so +unceremoniously left together; wonderfully careless, if he saw it +and did not think about it; wonderfully good, if, as seemed to her +by far the most probable supposition, he saw it and thought about +it and approved of it. These reflections were cut short by the +appearance of Stephen just outside the porch, silvered about the +head and shoulders with touches of moonlight, that had begun to +creep through the trees. + +'Has your trouble anything to do with a kiss on the lawn?' she +asked abruptly, almost passionately. + +'Kiss on the lawn?' + +'Yes!' she said, imperiously now. + +'I didn't comprehend your meaning, nor do I now exactly. I +certainly have kissed nobody on the lawn, if that is really what +you want to know, Elfride.' + +'You know nothing about such a performance?' + +'Nothing whatever. What makes you ask?' + +'Don't press me to tell; it is nothing of importance. And, +Stephen, you have not yet spoken to papa about our engagement?' + +'No,' he said regretfully, 'I could not find him directly; and +then I went on thinking so much of what you said about objections, +refusals--bitter words possibly--ending our happiness, that I +resolved to put it off till to-morrow; that gives us one more day +of delight--delight of a tremulous kind.' + +'Yes; but it would be improper to be silent too long, I think,' +she said in a delicate voice, which implied that her face had +grown warm. 'I want him to know we love, Stephen. Why did you +adopt as your own my thought of delay?' + +'I will explain; but I want to tell you of my secret first--to +tell you now. It is two or three hours yet to bedtime. Let us +walk up the hill to the church.' + +Elfride passively assented, and they went from the lawn by a side +wicket, and ascended into the open expanse of moonlight which +streamed around the lonely edifice on the summit of the hill. + +The door was locked. They turned from the porch, and walked hand +in hand to find a resting-place in the churchyard. Stephen chose +a flat tomb, showing itself to be newer and whiter than those +around it, and sitting down himself, gently drew her hand towards +him. + +'No, not there,' she said. + +'Why not here?' + +'A mere fancy; but never mind.' And she sat down. + +'Elfie, will you love me, in spite of everything that may be said +against me?' + +'O Stephen, what makes you repeat that so continually and so +sadly? You know I will. Yes, indeed,' she said, drawing closer, +'whatever may be said of you--and nothing bad can be--I will cling +to you just the same. Your ways shall be my ways until I die.' + +'Did you ever think what my parents might be, or what society I +originally moved in?' + +'No, not particularly. I have observed one or two little points +in your manners which are rather quaint--no more. I suppose you +have moved in the ordinary society of professional people.' + +'Supposing I have not--that none of my family have a profession +except me?' + +'I don't mind. What you are only concerns me.' + +'Where do you think I went to school--I mean, to what kind of +school?' + +'Dr. Somebody's academy,' she said simply. + +'No. To a dame school originally, then to a national school.' + +'Only to those! Well, I love you just as much, Stephen, dear +Stephen,' she murmured tenderly, 'I do indeed. And why should you +tell me these things so impressively? What do they matter to me?' + +He held her closer and proceeded: + +'What do you think my father is--does for his living, that is to +say?' + +'He practises some profession or calling, I suppose.' + +'No; he is a mason.' + +'A Freemason?' + +'No; a cottager and journeyman mason.' + +Elfride said nothing at first. After a while she whispered: + +'That is a strange idea to me. But never mind; what does it +matter?' + +'But aren't you angry with me for not telling you before?' + +'No, not at all. Is your mother alive?' + +'Yes.' + +'Is she a nice lady?' + +'Very--the best mother in the world. Her people had been well-to- +do yeomen for centuries, but she was only a dairymaid.' + +'O Stephen!' came from her in whispered exclamation. + +'She continued to attend to a dairy long after my father married +her,' pursued Stephen, without further hesitation. 'And I +remember very well how, when I was very young, I used to go to the +milking, look on at the skimming, sleep through the churning, and +make believe I helped her. Ah, that was a happy time enough!' + +'No, never--not happy.' + +'Yes, it was.' + +'I don't see how happiness could be where the drudgery of dairy- +work had to be done for a living--the hands red and chapped, and +the shoes clogged....Stephen, I do own that it seems odd to regard +you in the light of--of--having been so rough in your youth, and +done menial things of that kind.' (Stephen withdrew an inch or two +from her side.) 'But I DO LOVE YOU just the same,' she continued, +getting closer under his shoulder again, 'and I don't care +anything about the past; and I see that you are all the worthier +for having pushed on in the world in such a way.' + +'It is not my worthiness; it is Knight's, who pushed me.' + +'Ah, always he--always he!' + +'Yes, and properly so. Now, Elfride, you see the reason of his +teaching me by letter. I knew him years before he went to Oxford, +but I had not got far enough in my reading for him to entertain +the idea of helping me in classics till he left home. Then I was +sent away from the village, and we very seldom met; but he kept up +this system of tuition by correspondence with the greatest +regularity. I will tell you all the story, but not now. There is +nothing more to say now, beyond giving places, persons, and +dates.' His voice became timidly slow at this point. + +'No; don't take trouble to say more. You are a dear honest fellow +to say so much as you have; and it is not so dreadful either. It +has become a normal thing that millionaires commence by going up +to London with their tools at their back, and half-a-crown in +their pockets. That sort of origin is getting so respected,' she +continued cheerfully, 'that it is acquiring some of the odour of +Norman ancestry.' + +'Ah, if I had MADE my fortune, I shouldn't mind. But I am only a +possible maker of it as yet.' + +'It is quite enough. And so THIS is what your trouble was?' + +'I thought I was doing wrong in letting you love me without +telling you my story; and yet I feared to do so, Elfie. I dreaded +to lose you, and I was cowardly on that account.' + +'How plain everything about you seems after this explanation! Your +peculiarities in chess-playing, the pronunciation papa noticed in +your Latin, your odd mixture of book-knowledge with ignorance of +ordinary social accomplishments, are accounted for in a moment. +And has this anything to do with what I saw at Lord Luxellian's?' + +'What did you see?' + +'I saw the shadow of yourself putting a cloak round a lady. I was +at the side door; you two were in a room with the window towards +me. You came to me a moment later.' + +'She was my mother.' + +'Your mother THERE!' She withdrew herself to look at him silently +in her interest. + +'Elfride,' said Stephen, 'I was going to tell you the remainder +to-morrow--I have been keeping it back--I must tell it now, after +all. The remainder of my revelation refers to where my parents +are. Where do you think they live? You know them--by sight at any +rate.' + +'I know them!' she said in suspended amazement. + +'Yes. My father is John Smith, Lord Luxellian's master-mason, who +lives under the park wall by the river.' + +'O Stephen! can it be?' + +'He built--or assisted at the building of the house you live in, +years ago. He put up those stone gate piers at the lodge entrance +to Lord Luxellian's park. My grandfather planted the trees that +belt in your lawn; my grandmother--who worked in the fields with +him--held each tree upright whilst he filled in the earth: they +told me so when I was a child. He was the sexton, too, and dug +many of the graves around us.' + +'And was your unaccountable vanishing on the first morning of your +arrival, and again this afternoon, a run to see your father and +mother?...I understand now; no wonder you seemed to know your way +about the village!' + +'No wonder. But remember, I have not lived here since I was nine +years old. I then went to live with my uncle, a blacksmith, near +Exonbury, in order to be able to attend a national school as a day +scholar; there was none on this remote coast then. It was there I +met with my friend Knight. And when I was fifteen and had been +fairly educated by the school-master--and more particularly by +Knight--I was put as a pupil in an architect's office in that +town, because I was skilful in the use of the pencil. A full +premium was paid by the efforts of my mother and father, rather +against the wishes of Lord Luxellian, who likes my father, +however, and thinks a great deal of him. There I stayed till six +months ago, when I obtained a situation as improver, as it is +called, in a London office. That's all of me.' + +'To think YOU, the London visitor, the town man, should have been +born here, and have known this village so many years before I did. +How strange--how very strange it seems to me!' she murmured. + +'My mother curtseyed to you and your father last Sunday,' said +Stephen, with a pained smile at the thought of the incongruity. +'And your papa said to her, "I am glad to see you so regular at +church, JANE."' + +'I remember it, but I have never spoken to her. We have only been +here eighteen months, and the parish is so large.' + +'Contrast with this,' said Stephen, with a miserable laugh, 'your +father's belief in my "blue blood," which is still prevalent in +his mind. The first night I came, he insisted upon proving my +descent from one of the most ancient west-county families, on +account of my second Christian name; when the truth is, it was +given me because my grandfather was assistant gardener in the +Fitzmaurice-Smith family for thirty years. Having seen your face, +my darling, I had not heart to contradict him, and tell him what +would have cut me off from a friendly knowledge of you.' + +She sighed deeply. 'Yes, I see now how this inequality may be +made to trouble us,' she murmured, and continued in a low, sad +whisper, 'I wouldn't have minded if they had lived far away. Papa +might have consented to an engagement between us if your +connection had been with villagers a hundred miles off; remoteness +softens family contrasts. But he will not like--O Stephen, +Stephen! what can I do?' + +'Do?' he said tentatively, yet with heaviness. 'Give me up; let +me go back to London, and think no more of me.' + +'No, no; I cannot give you up! This hopelessness in our affairs +makes me care more for you....I see what did not strike me at +first. Stephen, why do we trouble? Why should papa object? An +architect in London is an architect in London. Who inquires +there? Nobody. We shall live there, shall we not? Why need we be +so alarmed?' + +'And Elfie,' said Stephen, his hopes kindling with hers, 'Knight +thinks nothing of my being only a cottager's son; he says I am as +worthy of his friendship as if I were a lord's; and if I am worthy +of his friendship, I am worthy of you, am I not, Elfride?' + +'I not only have never loved anybody but you,' she said, instead +of giving an answer, 'but I have not even formed a strong +friendship, such as you have for Knight. I wish you hadn't. It +diminishes me.' + +'Now, Elfride, you know better,' he said wooingly. 'And had you +really never any sweetheart at all?' + +'None that was ever recognized by me as such.' + +'But did nobody ever love you?' + +'Yes--a man did once; very much, he said.' + +'How long ago?' + +'Oh, a long time.' + +'How long, dearest? + +'A twelvemonth.' + +'That's not VERY long' (rather disappointedly). + +'I said long, not very long.' + +'And did he want to marry you?' + +'I believe he did. But I didn't see anything in him. He was not +good enough, even if I had loved him.' + +'May I ask what he was?' + +'A farmer.' + +'A farmer not good enough--how much better than my family!' +Stephen murmured. + +'Where is he now?' he continued to Elfride. + +'HERE.' + +'Here! what do you mean by that?' + +'I mean that he is here.' + +'Where here?' + +'Under us. He is under this tomb. He is dead, and we are sitting +on his grave.' + +'Elfie,' said the young man, standing up and looking at the tomb, +'how odd and sad that revelation seems! It quite depresses me for +the moment.' + +'Stephen! I didn't wish to sit here; but you would do so.' + +'You never encouraged him?' + +'Never by look, word, or sign,' she said solemnly. 'He died of +consumption, and was buried the day you first came.' + +'Let us go away. I don't like standing by HIM, even if you never +loved him. He was BEFORE me.' + +'Worries make you unreasonable,' she half pouted, following +Stephen at the distance of a few steps. 'Perhaps I ought to have +told you before we sat down. Yes; let us go.' + + + +Chapter IX + +'Her father did fume' + + +Oppressed, in spite of themselves, by a foresight of impending +complications, Elfride and Stephen returned down the hill hand in +hand. At the door they paused wistfully, like children late at +school. + +Women accept their destiny more readily than men. Elfride had now +resigned herself to the overwhelming idea of her lover's sorry +antecedents; Stephen had not forgotten the trifling grievance that +Elfride had known earlier admiration than his own. + +'What was that young man's name?' he inquired. + +'Felix Jethway; a widow's only son.' + +'I remember the family.' + +'She hates me now. She says I killed him.' + +Stephen mused, and they entered the porch. + +'Stephen, I love only you,' she tremulously whispered. He pressed +her fingers, and the trifling shadow passed away, to admit again +the mutual and more tangible trouble. + +The study appeared to be the only room lighted up. They entered, +each with a demeanour intended to conceal the inconcealable fact +that reciprocal love was their dominant chord. Elfride perceived +a man, sitting with his back towards herself, talking to her +father. She would have retired, but Mr. Swancourt had seen her. + +'Come in,' he said; 'it is only Martin Cannister, come for a copy +of the register for poor Mrs. Jethway.' + +Martin Cannister, the sexton, was rather a favourite with Elfride. +He used to absorb her attention by telling her of his strange +experiences in digging up after long years the bodies of persons +he had known, and recognizing them by some little sign (though in +reality he had never recognized any). He had shrewd small eyes +and a great wealth of double chin, which compensated in some +measure for considerable poverty of nose. + +The appearance of a slip of paper in Cannister's hand, and a few +shillings lying on the table in front of him, denoted that the +business had been transacted, and the tenor of their conversation +went to show that a summary of village news was now engaging the +attention of parishioner and parson. + +Mr. Cannister stood up and touched his forehead over his eye with +his finger, in respectful salutation of Elfride, gave half as much +salute to Stephen (whom he, in common with other villagers, had +never for a moment recognized), then sat down again and resumed +his discourse. + +'Where had I got on to, sir?' + +'To driving the pile,' said Mr. Swancourt. + +'The pile 'twas. So, as I was saying, Nat was driving the pile in +this manner, as I might say.' Here Mr. Cannister held his walking- +stick scrupulously vertical with his left hand, and struck a blow +with great force on the knob of the stick with his right. 'John +was steadying the pile so, as I might say.' Here he gave the stick +a slight shake, and looked firmly in the various eyes around to +see that before proceeding further his listeners well grasped the +subject at that stage. 'Well, when Nat had struck some half-dozen +blows more upon the pile, 'a stopped for a second or two. John, +thinking he had done striking, put his hand upon the top o' the +pile to gie en a pull, and see if 'a were firm in the ground.' Mr. +Cannister spread his hand over the top of the stick, completely +covering it with his palm. 'Well, so to speak, Nat hadn't maned +to stop striking, and when John had put his hand upon the pile, +the beetle----' + +'Oh dreadful!' said Elfride. + +'The beetle was already coming down, you see, sir. Nat just +caught sight of his hand, but couldn't stop the blow in time. +Down came the beetle upon poor John Smith's hand, and squashed en +to a pummy.' + +'Dear me, dear me! poor fellow!' said the vicar, with an +intonation like the groans of the wounded in a pianoforte +performance of the 'Battle of Prague.' + +'John Smith, the master-mason?' cried Stephen hurriedly. + +'Ay, no other; and a better-hearted man God A'mighty never made.' + +'Is he so much hurt?' + +'I have heard,' said Mr. Swancourt, not noticing Stephen, 'that he +has a son in London, a very promising young fellow.' + +'Oh, how he must be hurt!' repeated Stephen. + +'A beetle couldn't hurt very little. Well, sir, good-night t'ye; +and ye, sir; and you, miss, I'm sure.' + +Mr. Cannister had been making unnoticeable motions of withdrawal, +and by the time this farewell remark came from his lips he was +just outside the door of the room. He tramped along the hall, +stayed more than a minute endeavouring to close the door properly, +and then was lost to their hearing. + +Stephen had meanwhile turned and said to the vicar: + +'Please excuse me this evening! I must leave. John Smith is my +father.' + +The vicar did not comprehend at first. + +'What did you say?' he inquired. + +'John Smith is my father,' said Stephen deliberately. + +A surplus tinge of redness rose from Mr. Swancourt's neck, and +came round over his face, the lines of his features became more +firmly defined, and his lips seemed to get thinner. It was +evident that a series of little circumstances, hitherto unheeded, +were now fitting themselves together, and forming a lucid picture +in Mr. Swancourt's mind in such a manner as to render useless +further explanation on Stephen's part. + +'Indeed,' the vicar said, in a voice dry and without inflection. + +This being a word which depends entirely upon its tone for its +meaning, Mr. Swancourt's enunciation was equivalent to no +expression at all. + +'I have to go now,' said Stephen, with an agitated bearing, and a +movement as if he scarcely knew whether he ought to run off or +stay longer. 'On my return, sir, will you kindly grant me a few +minutes' private conversation?' + +'Certainly. Though antecedently it does not seem possible that +there can be anything of the nature of private business between +us.' + +Mr. Swancourt put on his straw hat, crossed the drawing-room, into +which the moonlight was shining, and stepped out of the French +window into the verandah. It required no further effort to +perceive what, indeed, reasoning might have foretold as the +natural colour of a mind whose pleasures were taken amid +genealogies, good dinners, and patrician reminiscences, that Mr. +Swancourt's prejudices were too strong for his generosity, and +that Stephen's moments as his friend and equal were numbered, or +had even now ceased. + +Stephen moved forward as if he would follow the vicar, then as if +he would not, and in absolute perplexity whither to turn himself, +went awkwardly to the door. Elfride followed lingeringly behind +him. Before he had receded two yards from the doorstep, Unity and +Ann the housemaid came home from their visit to the village. + +'Have you heard anything about John Smith? The accident is not so +bad as was reported, is it?' said Elfride intuitively. + +'Oh no; the doctor says it is only a bad bruise.' + +'I thought so!' cried Elfride gladly. + +'He says that, although Nat believes he did not check the beetle +as it came down, he must have done so without knowing it--checked +it very considerably too; for the full blow would have knocked his +hand abroad, and in reality it is only made black-and-blue like.' + +'How thankful I am!' said Stephen. + +The perplexed Unity looked at him with her mouth rather than with +her eyes. + +'That will do, Unity,' said Elfride magisterially; and the two +maids passed on. + +'Elfride, do you forgive me?' said Stephen with a faint smile. +'No man is fair in love;' and he took her fingers lightly in his +own. + +With her head thrown sideways in the Greuze attitude, she looked a +tender reproach at his doubt and pressed his hand. Stephen +returned the pressure threefold, then hastily went off to his +father's cottage by the wall of Endelstow Park. + +'Elfride, what have you to say to this?' inquired her father, +coming up immediately Stephen had retired. + +With feminine quickness she grasped at any straw that would enable +her to plead his cause. 'He had told me of it,' she faltered; 'so +that it is not a discovery in spite of him. He was just coming in +to tell you.' + +'COMING to tell! Why hadn't he already told? I object as much, if +not more, to his underhand concealment of this, than I do to the +fact itself. It looks very much like his making a fool of me, and +of you too. You and he have been about together, and +corresponding together, in a way I don't at all approve of--in a +most unseemly way. You should have known how improper such +conduct is. A woman can't be too careful not to be seen alone +with I-don't-know-whom.' + +'You saw us, papa, and have never said a word.' + +'My fault, of course; my fault. What the deuce could I be +thinking of! He, a villager's son; and we, Swancourts, connections +of the Luxellians. We have been coming to nothing for centuries, +and now I believe we have got there. What shall I next invite +here, I wonder!' + +Elfride began to cry at this very unpropitious aspect of affairs. +'O papa, papa, forgive me and him! We care so much for one +another, papa--O, so much! And what he was going to ask you is, if +you will allow of an engagement between us till he is a gentleman +as good as you. We are not in a hurry, dear papa; we don't want +in the least to marry now; not until he is richer. Only will you +let us be engaged, because I love him so, and he loves me?' + +Mr. Swancourt's feelings were a little touched by this appeal, and +he was annoyed that such should be the case. 'Certainly not!' he +replied. He pronounced the inhibition lengthily and sonorously, +so that the 'not' sounded like 'n-o-o-o-t!' + +'No, no, no; don't say it!' + +'Foh! A fine story. It is not enough that I have been deluded and +disgraced by having him here,--the son of one of my village +peasants,--but now I am to make him my son-in-law! Heavens above +us, are you mad, Elfride?' + +'You have seen his letters come to me ever since his first visit, +papa, and you knew they were a sort of--love-letters; and since he +has been here you have let him be alone with me almost entirely; +and you guessed, you must have guessed, what we were thinking of, +and doing, and you didn't stop him. Next to love-making comes +love-winning, and you knew it would come to that, papa.' + +The vicar parried this common-sense thrust. 'I know--since you +press me so--I know I did guess some childish attachment might +arise between you; I own I did not take much trouble to prevent +it; but I have not particularly countenanced it; and, Elfride, how +can you expect that I should now? It is impossible; no father in +England would hear of such a thing.' + +'But he is the same man, papa; the same in every particular; and +how can he be less fit for me than he was before?' + +'He appeared a young man with well-to-do friends, and a little +property; but having neither, he is another man.' + +'You inquired nothing about him?' + +'I went by Hewby's introduction. He should have told me. So +should the young man himself; of course he should. I consider it +a most dishonourable thing to come into a man's house like a +treacherous I-don't-know-what.' + +'But he was afraid to tell you, and so should I have been. He +loved me too well to like to run the risk. And as to speaking of +his friends on his first visit, I don't see why he should have +done so at all. He came here on business: it was no affair of +ours who his parents were. And then he knew that if he told you +he would never be asked here, and would perhaps never see me +again. And he wanted to see me. Who can blame him for trying, by +any means, to stay near me--the girl he loves? All is fair in +love. I have heard you say so yourself, papa; and you yourself +would have done just as he has--so would any man.' + +'And any man, on discovering what I have discovered, would also do +as I do, and mend my mistake; that is, get shot of him again, as +soon as the laws of hospitality will allow.' But Mr. Swancourt +then remembered that he was a Christian. 'I would not, for the +world, seem to turn him out of doors,' he added; 'but I think he +will have the tact to see that he cannot stay long after this, +with good taste.' + +'He will, because he's a gentleman. See how graceful his manners +are,' Elfride went on; though perhaps Stephen's manners, like the +feats of Euryalus, owed their attractiveness in her eyes rather to +the attractiveness of his person than to their own excellence. + +'Ay; anybody can be what you call graceful, if he lives a little +time in a city, and keeps his eyes open. And he might have picked +up his gentlemanliness by going to the galleries of theatres, and +watching stage drawing-room manners. He reminds me of one of the +worst stories I ever heard in my life.' + +'What story was that?' + +'Oh no, thank you! I wouldn't tell you such an improper matter for +the world!' + +'If his father and mother had lived in the north or east of +England,' gallantly persisted Elfride, though her sobs began to +interrupt her articulation, 'anywhere but here--you--would have-- +only regarded--HIM, and not THEM! His station--would have--been +what--his profession makes it,--and not fixed by--his father's +humble position--at all; whom he never lives with--now. Though +John Smith has saved lots of money, and is better off than we are, +they say, or he couldn't have put his son to such an expensive +profession. And it is clever and--honourable--of Stephen, to be +the best of his family.' + +'Yes. "Let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at +the king's mess."' + +'You insult me, papa!' she burst out. 'You do, you do! He is my +own Stephen, he is!' + +'That may or may not be true, Elfride,' returned her father, again +uncomfortably agitated in spite of himself 'You confuse future +probabilities with present facts,--what the young man may be with +what he is. We must look at what he is, not what an improbable +degree of success in his profession may make him. The case is +this: the son of a working-man in my parish who may or may not be +able to buy me up--a youth who has not yet advanced so far into +life as to have any income of his own deserving the name, and +therefore of his father's degree as regards station--wants to be +engaged to you. His family are living in precisely the same spot +in England as yours, so throughout this county--which is the world +to us--you would always be known as the wife of Jack Smith the +mason's son, and not under any circumstances as the wife of a +London professional man. It is the drawback, not the compensating +fact, that is talked of always. There, say no more. You may +argue all night, and prove what you will; I'll stick to my words.' + +Elfride looked silently and hopelessly out of the window with +large heavy eyes and wet cheeks. + +'I call it great temerity--and long to call it audacity--in +Hewby,' resumed her father. 'I never heard such a thing--giving +such a hobbledehoy native of this place such an introduction to me +as he did. Naturally you were deceived as well as I was. I don't +blame you at all, so far.' He went and searched for Mr. Hewby's +original letter. 'Here's what he said to me: "Dear Sir,-- +Agreeably to your request of the 18th instant, I have arranged to +survey and make drawings," et cetera. "My assistant, Mr. Stephen +Smith"--assistant, you see he called him, and naturally I +understood him to mean a sort of partner. Why didn't he say +"clerk"?' + +'They never call them clerks in that profession, because they do +not write. Stephen--Mr. Smith--told me so. So that Mr. Hewby +simply used the accepted word.' + +'Let me speak, please, Elfride! "My assistant, Mr. Stephen Smith, +will leave London by the early train to-morrow morning...MANY +THANKS FOR YOUR PROPOSAL TO ACCOMMODATE HIM...YOU MAY PUT EVERY +CONFIDENCE IN HIM, and may rely upon his discernment in the matter +of church architecture." Well, I repeat that Hewby ought to be +ashamed of himself for making so much of a poor lad of that sort.' + +'Professional men in London,' Elfride argued, 'don't know anything +about their clerks' fathers and mothers. They have assistants who +come to their offices and shops for years, and hardly even know +where they live. What they can do--what profits they can bring +the firm--that's all London men care about. And that is helped in +him by his faculty of being uniformly pleasant.' + +'Uniform pleasantness is rather a defect than a faculty. It shows +that a man hasn't sense enough to know whom to despise.' + +'It shows that he acts by faith and not by sight, as those you +claim succession from directed.' + +'That's some more of what he's been telling you, I suppose! Yes, I +was inclined to suspect him, because he didn't care about sauces +of any kind. I always did doubt a man's being a gentleman if his +palate had no acquired tastes. An unedified palate is the +irrepressible cloven foot of the upstart. The idea of my bringing +out a bottle of my '40 Martinez--only eleven of them left now--to +a man who didn't know it from eighteenpenny! Then the Latin line +he gave to my quotation; it was very cut-and-dried, very; or I, +who haven't looked into a classical author for the last eighteen +years, shouldn't have remembered it. Well, Elfride, you had +better go to your room; you'll get over this bit of tomfoolery in +time.' + +'No, no, no, papa,' she moaned. For of all the miseries attaching +to miserable love, the worst is the misery of thinking that the +passion which is the cause of them all may cease. + +'Elfride,' said her father with rough friendliness, 'I have an +excellent scheme on hand, which I cannot tell you of now. A +scheme to benefit you and me. It has been thrust upon me for some +little time--yes, thrust upon me--but I didn't dream of its value +till this afternoon, when the revelation came. I should be most +unwise to refuse to entertain it.' + +'I don't like that word,' she returned wearily. 'You have lost so +much already by schemes. Is it those wretched mines again?' + +'No; not a mining scheme.' + +'Railways?' + +'Nor railways. It is like those mysterious offers we see +advertised, by which any gentleman with no brains at all may make +so much a week without risk, trouble, or soiling his fingers. +However, I am intending to say nothing till it is settled, though +I will just say this much, that you soon may have other fish to +fry than to think of Stephen Smith. Remember, I wish, not to be +angry, but friendly, to the young man; for your sake I'll regard +him as a friend in a certain sense. But this is enough; in a few +days you will be quite my way of thinking. There, now, go to your +bedroom. Unity shall bring you up some supper. I wish you not to +be here when he comes back.' + + + +Chapter X + +'Beneath the shelter of an aged tree.' + + +Stephen retraced his steps towards the cottage he had visited only +two or three hours previously. He drew near and under the rich +foliage growing about the outskirts of Endelstow Park, the spotty +lights and shades from the shining moon maintaining a race over +his head and down his back in an endless gambol. When he crossed +the plank bridge and entered the garden-gate, he saw an +illuminated figure coming from the enclosed plot towards the house +on the other side. It was his father, with his hand in a sling, +taking a general moonlight view of the garden, and particularly of +a plot of the youngest of young turnips, previous to closing the +cottage for the night. + +He saluted his son with customary force. 'Hallo, Stephen! We +should ha' been in bed in another ten minutes. Come to see what's +the matter wi' me, I suppose, my lad?' + +The doctor had come and gone, and the hand had been pronounced as +injured but slightly, though it might possibly have been +considered a far more serious case if Mr. Smith had been a more +important man. Stephen's anxious inquiry drew from his father +words of regret at the inconvenience to the world of his doing +nothing for the next two days, rather than of concern for the pain +of the accident. Together they entered the house. + +John Smith--brown as autumn as to skin, white as winter as to +clothes--was a satisfactory specimen of the village artificer in +stone. In common with most rural mechanics, he had too much +individuality to be a typical 'working-man'--a resultant of that +beach-pebble attrition with his kind only to be experienced in +large towns, which metamorphoses the unit Self into a fraction of +the unit Class. + +There was not the speciality in his labour which distinguishes the +handicraftsmen of towns. Though only a mason, strictly speaking, +he was not above handling a brick, if bricks were the order of the +day; or a slate or tile, if a roof had to be covered before the +wet weather set in, and nobody was near who could do it better. +Indeed, on one or two occasions in the depth of winter, when frost +peremptorily forbids all use of the trowel, making foundations to +settle, stones to fly, and mortar to crumble, he had taken to +felling and sawing trees. Moreover, he had practised gardening in +his own plot for so many years that, on an emergency, he might +have made a living by that calling. + +Probably our countryman was not such an accomplished artificer in +a particular direction as his town brethren in the trades. But he +was, in truth, like that clumsy pin-maker who made the whole pin, +and who was despised by Adam Smith on that account and respected +by Macaulay, much more the artist nevertheless. + +Appearing now, indoors, by the light of the candle, his stalwart +healthiness was a sight to see. His beard was close and knotted +as that of a chiselled Hercules; his shirt sleeves were partly +rolled up, his waistcoat unbuttoned; the difference in hue between +the snowy linen and the ruddy arms and face contrasting like the +white of an egg and its yolk. Mrs. Smith, on hearing them enter, +advanced from the pantry. + +Mrs. Smith was a matron whose countenance addressed itself to the +mind rather than to the eye, though not exclusively. She retained +her personal freshness even now, in the prosy afternoon-time of +her life; but what her features were primarily indicative of was a +sound common sense behind them; as a whole, appearing to carry +with them a sort of argumentative commentary on the world in +general. + +The details of the accident were then rehearsed by Stephen's +father, in the dramatic manner also common to Martin Cannister, +other individuals of the neighbourhood, and the rural world +generally. Mrs. Smith threw in her sentiments between the acts, +as Coryphaeus of the tragedy, to make the description complete. +The story at last came to an end, as the longest will, and Stephen +directed the conversation into another channel. + +'Well, mother, they know everything about me now,' he said +quietly. + +'Well done!' replied his father; 'now my mind's at peace.' + +'I blame myself--I never shall forgive myself--for not telling +them before,' continued the young man. + +Mrs. Smith at this point abstracted her mind from the former +subject. 'I don't see what you have to grieve about, Stephen,' +she said. 'People who accidentally get friends don't, as a first +stroke, tell the history of their families.' + +'Ye've done no wrong, certainly,' said his father. + +'No; but I should have spoken sooner. There's more in this visit +of mine than you think--a good deal more.' + +'Not more than I think,' Mrs. Smith replied, looking +contemplatively at him. Stephen blushed; and his father looked +from one to the other in a state of utter incomprehension. + +'She's a pretty piece enough,' Mrs. Smith continued, 'and very +lady-like and clever too. But though she's very well fit for you +as far as that is, why, mercy 'pon me, what ever do you want any +woman at all for yet?' + +John made his naturally short mouth a long one, and wrinkled his +forehead, 'That's the way the wind d'blow, is it?' he said. + +'Mother,' exclaimed Stephen, 'how absurdly you speak! Criticizing +whether she's fit for me or no, as if there were room for doubt on +the matter! Why, to marry her would be the great blessing of my +life--socially and practically, as well as in other respects. No +such good fortune as that, I'm afraid; she's too far above me. +Her family doesn't want such country lads as I in it.' + +'Then if they don't want you, I'd see them dead corpses before I'd +want them, and go to better families who do want you.' + +'Ah, yes; but I could never put up with the distaste of being +welcomed among such people as you mean, whilst I could get +indifference among such people as hers.' + +'What crazy twist o' thinking will enter your head next?' said his +mother. 'And come to that, she's not a bit too high for you, or +you too low for her. See how careful I be to keep myself up. I'm +sure I never stop for more than a minute together to talk to any +journeymen people; and I never invite anybody to our party o' +Christmases who are not in business for themselves. And I talk to +several toppermost carriage people that come to my lord's without +saying ma'am or sir to 'em, and they take it as quiet as lambs.' + +'You curtseyed to the vicar, mother; and I wish you hadn't.' + +'But it was before he called me by my Christian name, or he would +have got very little curtseying from me!' said Mrs. Smith, +bridling and sparkling with vexation. 'You go on at me, Stephen, +as if I were your worst enemy! What else could I do with the man +to get rid of him, banging it into me and your father by side and +by seam, about his greatness, and what happened when he was a +young fellow at college, and I don't know what-all; the tongue o' +en flopping round his mouth like a mop-rag round a dairy. That 'a +did, didn't he, John?' + +'That's about the size o't,' replied her husband. + +'Every woman now-a-days,' resumed Mrs. Smith, 'if she marry at +all, must expect a father-in-law of a rank lower than her father. +The men have gone up so, and the women have stood still. Every +man you meet is more the dand than his father; and you are just +level wi' her.' + +'That's what she thinks herself.' + +'It only shows her sense. I knew she was after 'ee, Stephen--I +knew it.' + +'After me! Good Lord, what next!' + +'And I really must say again that you ought not to be in such a +hurry, and wait for a few years. You might go higher than a +bankrupt pa'son's girl then.' + +'The fact is, mother,' said Stephen impatiently, 'you don't know +anything about it. I shall never go higher, because I don't want +to, nor should I if I lived to be a hundred. As to you saying +that she's after me, I don't like such a remark about her, for it +implies a scheming woman, and a man worth scheming for, both of +which are not only untrue, but ludicrously untrue, of this case. +Isn't it so, father?' + +'I'm afraid I don't understand the matter well enough to gie my +opinion,' said his father, in the tone of the fox who had a cold +and could not smell. + +'She couldn't have been very backward anyhow, considering the +short time you have known her,' said his mother. 'Well I think +that five years hence you'll be plenty young enough to think of +such things. And really she can very well afford to wait, and +will too, take my word. Living down in an out-step place like +this, I am sure she ought to be very thankful that you took notice +of her. She'd most likely have died an old maid if you hadn't +turned up.' + +'All nonsense,' said Stephen, but not aloud. + +'A nice little thing she is,' Mrs. Smith went on in a more +complacent tone now that Stephen had been talked down; 'there's +not a word to say against her, I'll own. I see her sometimes +decked out like a horse going to fair, and I admire her for't. A +perfect little lady. But people can't help their thoughts, and if +she'd learnt to make figures instead of letters when she was at +school 'twould have been better for her pocket; for as I said, +there never were worse times for such as she than now.' + +'Now, now, mother!' said Stephen with smiling deprecation. + +'But I will!' said his mother with asperity. 'I don't read the +papers for nothing, and I know men all move up a stage by +marriage. Men of her class, that is, parsons, marry squires' +daughters; squires marry lords' daughters; lords marry dukes' +daughters; dukes marry queens' daughters. All stages of gentlemen +mate a stage higher; and the lowest stage of gentlewomen are left +single, or marry out of their class.' + +'But you said just now, dear mother----' retorted Stephen, unable +to resist the temptation of showing his mother her inconsistency. +Then he paused. + +'Well, what did I say?' And Mrs. Smith prepared her lips for a new +campaign. + +Stephen, regretting that he had begun, since a volcano might be +the consequence, was obliged to go on. + +'You said I wasn't out of her class just before.' + +'Yes, there, there! That's you; that's my own flesh and blood. +I'll warrant that you'll pick holes in everything your mother +says, if you can, Stephen. You are just like your father for +that; take anybody's part but mine. Whilst I am speaking and +talking and trying and slaving away for your good, you are waiting +to catch me out in that way. So you are in her class, but 'tis +what HER people would CALL marrying out of her class. Don't be so +quarrelsome, Stephen!' + +Stephen preserved a discreet silence, in which he was imitated by +his father, and for several minutes nothing was heard but the +ticking of the green-faced case-clock against the wall. + +'I'm sure,' added Mrs. Smith in a more philosophic tone, and as a +terminative speech, 'if there'd been so much trouble to get a +husband in my time as there is in these days--when you must make a +god-almighty of a man to get en to hae ye--I'd have trod clay for +bricks before I'd ever have lowered my dignity to marry, or +there's no bread in nine loaves.' + +The discussion now dropped, and as it was getting late, Stephen +bade his parents farewell for the evening, his mother none the +less warmly for their sparring; for although Mrs. Smith and +Stephen were always contending, they were never at enmity. + +'And possibly,' said Stephen, 'I may leave here altogether to- +morrow; I don't know. So that if I shouldn't call again before +returning to London, don't be alarmed, will you?' + +'But didn't you come for a fortnight?' said his mother. 'And +haven't you a month's holiday altogether? They are going to turn +you out, then?' + +'Not at all. I may stay longer; I may go. If I go, you had +better say nothing about my having been here, for her sake. At +what time of the morning does the carrier pass Endelstow lane?' + +'Seven o'clock.' + +And then he left them. His thoughts were, that should the vicar +permit him to become engaged, to hope for an engagement, or in any +way to think of his beloved Elfride, he might stay longer. Should +he be forbidden to think of any such thing, he resolved to go at +once. And the latter, even to young hopefulness, seemed the more +probable alternative. + +Stephen walked back to the vicarage through the meadows, as he had +come, surrounded by the soft musical purl of the water through +little weirs, the modest light of the moon, the freshening smell +of the dews out-spread around. It was a time when mere seeing is +meditation, and meditation peace. Stephen was hardly philosopher +enough to avail himself of Nature's offer. His constitution was +made up of very simple particulars; was one which, rare in the +spring-time of civilizations, seems to grow abundant as a nation +gets older, individuality fades, and education spreads; that is, +his brain had extraordinary receptive powers, and no great +creativeness. Quickly acquiring any kind of knowledge he saw +around him, and having a plastic adaptability more common in woman +than in man, he changed colour like a chameleon as the society he +found himself in assumed a higher and more artificial tone. He +had not many original ideas, and yet there was scarcely an idea to +which, under proper training, he could not have added a +respectable co-ordinate. + +He saw nothing outside himself to-night; and what he saw within +was a weariness to his flesh. Yet to a dispassionate observer, +his pretensions to Elfride, though rather premature, were far from +absurd as marriages go, unless the accidental proximity of simple +but honest parents could be said to make them so. + +The clock struck eleven when he entered the house. Elfride had +been waiting with scarcely a movement since he departed. Before +he had spoken to her she caught sight of him passing into the +study with her father. She saw that he had by some means obtained +the private interview he desired. + +A nervous headache had been growing on the excitable girl during +the absence of Stephen, and now she could do nothing beyond going +up again to her room as she had done before. Instead of lying +down she sat again in the darkness without closing the door, and +listened with a beating heart to every sound from downstairs. The +servants had gone to bed. She ultimately heard the two men come +from the study and cross to the dining-room, where supper had been +lingering for more than an hour. The door was left open, and she +found that the meal, such as it was, passed off between her father +and her lover without any remark, save commonplaces as to +cucumbers and melons, their wholesomeness and culture, uttered in +a stiff and formal way. It seemed to prefigure failure. + +Shortly afterwards Stephen came upstairs to his bedroom, and was +almost immediately followed by her father, who also retired for +the night. Not inclined to get a light, she partly undressed and +sat on the bed, where she remained in pained thought for some +time, possibly an hour. Then rising to close her door previously +to fully unrobing, she saw a streak of light shining across the +landing. Her father's door was shut, and he could be heard +snoring regularly. The light came from Stephen's room, and the +slight sounds also coming thence emphatically denoted what he was +doing. In the perfect silence she could hear the closing of a lid +and the clicking of a lock,--he was fastening his hat-box. Then +the buckling of straps and the click of another key,--he was +securing his portmanteau. With trebled foreboding she opened her +door softly, and went towards his. One sensation pervaded her to +distraction. Stephen, her handsome youth and darling, was going +away, and she might never see him again except in secret and in +sadness--perhaps never more. At any rate, she could no longer +wait till the morning to hear the result of the interview, as she +had intended. She flung her dressing-gown round her, tapped +lightly at his door, and whispered 'Stephen!' He came instantly, +opened the door, and stepped out. + +'Tell me; are we to hope?' + +He replied in a disturbed whisper, and a tear approached its +outlet, though none fell. + +'I am not to think of such a preposterous thing--that's what he +said. And I am going to-morrow. I should have called you up to +bid you good-bye.' + +'But he didn't say you were to go--O Stephen, he didn't say that?' + +'No; not in words. But I cannot stay.' + +'Oh, don't, don't go! Do come and let us talk. Let us come down +to the drawing-room for a few minutes; he will hear us here.' + +She preceded him down the staircase with the taper light in her +hand, looking unnaturally tall and thin in the long dove-coloured +dressing-gown she wore. She did not stop to think of the +propriety or otherwise of this midnight interview under such +circumstances. She thought that the tragedy of her life was +beginning, and, for the first time almost, felt that her existence +might have a grave side, the shade of which enveloped and rendered +invisible the delicate gradations of custom and punctilio. +Elfride softly opened the drawing-room door and they both went in. +When she had placed the candle on the table, he enclosed her with +his arms, dried her eyes with his handkerchief, and kissed their +lids. + +'Stephen, it is over--happy love is over; and there is no more +sunshine now!' + +'I will make a fortune, and come to you, and have you. Yes, I +will!' + +'Papa will never hear of it--never--never! You don't know him. I +do. He is either biassed in favour of a thing, or prejudiced +against it. Argument is powerless against either feeling.' + +'No; I won't think of him so,' said Stephen. 'If I appear before +him some time hence as a man of established name, he will accept +me--I know he will. He is not a wicked man.' + +'No, he is not wicked. But you say "some time hence," as if it +were no time. To you, among bustle and excitement, it will be +comparatively a short time, perhaps; oh, to me, it will be its +real length trebled! Every summer will be a year--autumn a year-- +winter a year! O Stephen! and you may forget me!' + +Forget: that was, and is, the real sting of waiting to fond- +hearted woman. The remark awoke in Stephen the converse fear. +'You, too, may be persuaded to give me up, when time has made me +fainter in your memory. For, remember, your love for me must be +nourished in secret; there will be no long visits from me to +support you. Circumstances will always tend to obliterate me.' + +'Stephen,' she said, filled with her own misgivings, and unheeding +his last words, 'there are beautiful women where you live--of +course I know there are--and they may win you away from me.' Her +tears came visibly as she drew a mental picture of his +faithlessness. 'And it won't be your fault,' she continued, +looking into the candle with doleful eyes. 'No! You will think +that our family don't want you, and get to include me with them. +And there will be a vacancy in your heart, and some others will be +let in.' + +'I could not, I would not. Elfie, do not be so full of +forebodings.' + +'Oh yes, they will,' she replied. 'And you will look at them, not +caring at first, and then you will look and be interested, and +after a while you will think, "Ah, they know all about city life, +and assemblies, and coteries, and the manners of the titled, and +poor little Elfie, with all the fuss that's made about her having +me, doesn't know about anything but a little house and a few +cliffs and a space of sea, far away." And then you'll be more +interested in them, and they'll make you have them instead of me, +on purpose to be cruel to me because I am silly, and they are +clever and hate me. And I hate them, too; yes, I do!' + +Her impulsive words had power to impress him at any rate with the +recognition of the uncertainty of all that is not accomplished. +And, worse than that general feeling, there of course remained the +sadness which arose from the special features of his own case. +However remote a desired issue may be, the mere fact of having +entered the groove which leads to it, cheers to some extent with a +sense of accomplishment. Had Mr. Swancourt consented to an +engagement of no less length than ten years, Stephen would have +been comparatively cheerful in waiting; they would have felt that +they were somewhere on the road to Cupid's garden. But, with a +possibility of a shorter probation, they had not as yet any +prospect of the beginning; the zero of hope had yet to be reached. +Mr. Swancourt would have to revoke his formidable words before the +waiting for marriage could even set in. And this was despair. + +'I wish we could marry now,' murmured Stephen, as an impossible +fancy. + +'So do I,' said she also, as if regarding an idle dream. ''Tis +the only thing that ever does sweethearts good!' + +'Secretly would do, would it not, Elfie?' + +'Yes, secretly would do; secretly would indeed be best,' she said, +and went on reflectively: 'All we want is to render it absolutely +impossible for any future circumstance to upset our future +intention of being happy together; not to begin being happy now.' + +'Exactly,' he murmured in a voice and manner the counterpart of +hers. 'To marry and part secretly, and live on as we are living +now; merely to put it out of anybody's power to force you away +from me, dearest.' + +'Or you away from me, Stephen.' + +'Or me from you. It is possible to conceive a force of +circumstance strong enough to make any woman in the world marry +against her will: no conceivable pressure, up to torture or +starvation, can make a woman once married to her lover anybody +else's wife.' + +Now up to this point the idea of an immediate secret marriage had +been held by both as an untenable hypothesis, wherewith simply to +beguile a miserable moment. During a pause which followed +Stephen's last remark, a fascinating perception, then an alluring +conviction, flashed along the brain of both. The perception was +that an immediate marriage COULD be contrived; the conviction that +such an act, in spite of its daring, its fathomless results, its +deceptiveness, would be preferred by each to the life they must +lead under any other conditions. + +The youth spoke first, and his voice trembled with the magnitude +of the conception he was cherishing. 'How strong we should feel, +Elfride! going on our separate courses as before, without the fear +of ultimate separation! O Elfride! think of it; think of it!' + +It is certain that the young girl's love for Stephen received a +fanning from her father's opposition which made it blaze with a +dozen times the intensity it would have exhibited if left alone. +Never were conditions more favourable for developing a girl's +first passing fancy for a handsome boyish face--a fancy rooted in +inexperience and nourished by seclusion--into a wild unreflecting +passion fervid enough for anything. All the elements of such a +development were there, the chief one being hopelessness--a +necessary ingredient always to perfect the mixture of feelings +united under the name of loving to distraction. + +'We would tell papa soon, would we not?' she inquired timidly. +'Nobody else need know. He would then be convinced that hearts +cannot be played with; love encouraged be ready to grow, love +discouraged be ready to die, at a moment's notice. Stephen, do +you not think that if marriages against a parent's consent are +ever justifiable, they are when young people have been favoured up +to a point, as we have, and then have had that favour suddenly +withdrawn?' + +'Yes. It is not as if we had from the beginning acted in +opposition to your papa's wishes. Only think, Elfie, how pleasant +he was towards me but six hours ago! He liked me, praised me, +never objected to my being alone with you.' + +'I believe he MUST like you now,' she cried. 'And if he found +that you irremediably belonged to me, he would own it and help +you. 'O Stephen, Stephen,' she burst out again, as the +remembrance of his packing came afresh to her mind, 'I cannot bear +your going away like this! It is too dreadful. All I have been +expecting miserably killed within me like this!' + +Stephen flushed hot with impulse. 'I will not be a doubt to you-- +thought of you shall not be a misery to me!' he said. 'We will be +wife and husband before we part for long!' + +She hid her face on his shoulder. 'Anything to make SURE!' she +whispered. + +'I did not like to propose it immediately,' continued Stephen. +'It seemed to me--it seems to me now--like trying to catch you--a +girl better in the world than I.' + +'Not that, indeed! And am I better in worldly station? What's the +use of have beens? We may have been something once; we are nothing +now.' + +Then they whispered long and earnestly together; Stephen +hesitatingly proposing this and that plan, Elfride modifying them, +with quick breathings, and hectic flush, and unnaturally bright +eyes. It was two o'clock before an arrangement was finally +concluded. + +She then told him to leave her, giving him his light to go up to +his own room. They parted with an agreement not to meet again in +the morning. After his door had been some time closed he heard +her softly gliding into her chamber. + + + +Chapter XI + +'Journeys end in lovers meeting.' + + +Stephen lay watching the Great Bear; Elfride was regarding a +monotonous parallelogram of window blind. Neither slept that +night. + +Early the next morning--that is to say, four hours after their +stolen interview, and just as the earliest servant was heard +moving about--Stephen Smith went downstairs, portmanteau in hand. +Throughout the night he had intended to see Mr. Swancourt again, +but the sharp rebuff of the previous evening rendered such an +interview particularly distasteful. Perhaps there was another and +less honest reason. He decided to put it off. Whatever of moral +timidity or obliquity may have lain in such a decision, no +perception of it was strong enough to detain him. He wrote a note +in his room, which stated simply that he did not feel happy in the +house after Mr. Swancourt's sudden veto on what he had favoured a +few hours before; but that he hoped a time would come, and that +soon, when his original feelings of pleasure as Mr. Swancourt's +guest might be recovered. + +He expected to find the downstairs rooms wearing the gray and +cheerless aspect that early morning gives to everything out of the +sun. He found in the dining room a breakfast laid, of which +somebody had just partaken. + +Stephen gave the maid-servant his note of adieu. She stated that +Mr. Swancourt had risen early that morning, and made an early +breakfast. He was not going away that she knew of. + +Stephen took a cup of coffee, left the house of his love, and +turned into the lane. It was so early that the shaded places +still smelt like night time, and the sunny spots had hardly felt +the sun. The horizontal rays made every shallow dip in the ground +to show as a well-marked hollow. Even the channel of the path was +enough to throw shade, and the very stones of the road cast +tapering dashes of darkness westward, as long as Jael's tent-nail. + +At a spot not more than a hundred yards from the vicar's residence +the lane leading thence crossed the high road. Stephen reached +the point of intersection, stood still and listened. Nothing +could be heard save the lengthy, murmuring line of the sea upon +the adjacent shore. He looked at his watch, and then mounted a +gate upon which he seated himself, to await the arrival of the +carrier. Whilst he sat he heard wheels coming in two directions. + +The vehicle approaching on his right he soon recognized as the +carrier's. There were the accompanying sounds of the owner's +voice and the smack of his whip, distinct in the still morning +air, by which he encouraged his horses up the hill. + +The other set of wheels sounded from the lane Stephen had just +traversed. On closer observation, he perceived that they were +moving from the precincts of the ancient manor-house adjoining the +vicarage grounds. A carriage then left the entrance gates of the +house, and wheeling round came fully in sight. It was a plain +travelling carriage, with a small quantity of luggage, apparently +a lady's. The vehicle came to the junction of the four ways half- +a-minute before the carrier reached the same spot, and crossed +directly in his front, proceeding by the lane on the other side. + +Inside the carriage Stephen could just discern an elderly lady +with a younger woman, who seemed to be her maid. The road they +had taken led to Stratleigh, a small watering-place sixteen miles +north. + +He heard the manor-house gates swing again, and looking up saw +another person leaving them, and walking off in the direction of +the parsonage. 'Ah, how much I wish I were moving that way!' felt +he parenthetically. The gentleman was tall, and resembled Mr. +Swancourt in outline and attire. He opened the vicarage gate and +went in. Mr. Swancourt, then, it certainly was. Instead of +remaining in bed that morning Mr. Swancourt must have taken it +into his head to see his new neighbour off on a journey. He must +have been greatly interested in that neighbour to do such an +unusual thing. + +The carrier's conveyance had pulled up, and Stephen now handed in +his portmanteau and mounted the shafts. 'Who is that lady in the +carriage?' he inquired indifferently of Lickpan the carrier. + +'That, sir, is Mrs. Troyton, a widder wi' a mint o' money. She's +the owner of all that part of Endelstow that is not Lord +Luxellian's. Only been here a short time; she came into it by +law. The owner formerly was a terrible mysterious party--never +lived here--hardly ever was seen here except in the month of +September, as I might say.' + +The horses were started again, and noise rendered further +discourse a matter of too great exertion. Stephen crept inside +under the tilt, and was soon lost in reverie. + +Three hours and a half of straining up hills and jogging down +brought them to St. Launce's, the market town and railway station +nearest to Endelstow, and the place from which Stephen Smith had +journeyed over the downs on the, to him, memorable winter evening +at the beginning of the same year. The carrier's van was so timed +as to meet a starting up-train, which Stephen entered. Two or +three hours' railway travel through vertical cuttings in +metamorphic rock, through oak copses rich and green, stretching +over slopes and down delightful valleys, glens, and ravines, +sparkling with water like many-rilled Ida, and he plunged amid the +hundred and fifty thousand people composing the town of Plymouth. + +There being some time upon his hands he left his luggage at the +cloak-room, and went on foot along Bedford Street to the nearest +church. Here Stephen wandered among the multifarious tombstones +and looked in at the chancel window, dreaming of something that +was likely to happen by the altar there in the course of the +coming month. He turned away and ascended the Hoe, viewed the +magnificent stretch of sea and massive promontories of land, but +without particularly discerning one feature of the varied +perspective. He still saw that inner prospect--the event he hoped +for in yonder church. The wide Sound, the Breakwater, the light- +house on far-off Eddystone, the dark steam vessels, brigs, +barques, and schooners, either floating stilly, or gliding with +tiniest motion, were as the dream, then; the dreamed-of event was +as the reality. + +Soon Stephen went down from the Hoe, and returned to the railway +station. He took his ticket, and entered the London train. + + +That day was an irksome time at Endelstow vicarage. Neither +father nor daughter alluded to the departure of Stephen. Mr. +Swancourt's manner towards her partook of the compunctious +kindness that arises from a misgiving as to the justice of some +previous act. + +Either from lack of the capacity to grasp the whole coup d'oeil, +or from a natural endowment for certain kinds of stoicism, women +are cooler than men in critical situations of the passive form. +Probably, in Elfride's case at least, it was blindness to the +greater contingencies of the future she was preparing for herself, +which enabled her to ask her father in a quiet voice if he could +give her a holiday soon, to ride to St. Launce's and go on to +Plymouth. + +Now, she had only once before gone alone to Plymouth, and that was +in consequence of some unavoidable difficulty. Being a country +girl, and a good, not to say a wild, horsewoman, it had been her +delight to canter, without the ghost of an attendant, over the +fourteen or sixteen miles of hard road intervening between their +home and the station at St. Launce's, put up the horse, and go on +the remainder of the distance by train, returning in the same +manner in the evening. It was then resolved that, though she had +successfully accomplished this journey once, it was not to be +repeated without some attendance. + +But Elfride must not be confounded with ordinary young feminine +equestrians. The circumstances of her lonely and narrow life made +it imperative that in trotting about the neighbourhood she must +trot alone or else not at all. Usage soon rendered this perfectly +natural to herself. Her father, who had had other experiences, +did not much like the idea of a Swancourt, whose pedigree could be +as distinctly traced as a thread in a skein of silk, scampering +over the hills like a farmer's daughter, even though he could +habitually neglect her. But what with his not being able to +afford her a regular attendant, and his inveterate habit of +letting anything be to save himself trouble, the circumstance grew +customary. And so there arose a chronic notion in the villagers' +minds that all ladies rode without an attendant, like Miss +Swancourt, except a few who were sometimes visiting at Lord +Luxellian's. + +'I don't like your going to Plymouth alone, particularly going to +St. Launce's on horseback. Why not drive, and take the man?' + +'It is not nice to be so overlooked.' Worm's company would not +seriously have interfered with her plans, but it was her humour to +go without him. + +'When do you want to go?' said her father. + +She only answered, 'Soon.' + +'I will consider,' he said. + +Only a few days elapsed before she asked again. A letter had +reached her from Stephen. It had been timed to come on that day +by special arrangement between them. In it he named the earliest +morning on which he could meet her at Plymouth. Her father had +been on a journey to Stratleigh, and returned in unusual buoyancy +of spirit. It was a good opportunity; and since the dismissal of +Stephen her father had been generally in a mood to make small +concessions, that he might steer clear of large ones connected +with that outcast lover of hers. + +'Next Thursday week I am going from home in a different +direction,' said her father. 'In fact, I shall leave home the +night before. You might choose the same day, for they wish to +take up the carpets, or some such thing, I think. As I said, I +don't like you to be seen in a town on horseback alone; but go if +you will.' + +Thursday week. Her father had named the very day that Stephen +also had named that morning as the earliest on which it would be +of any use to meet her; that was, about fifteen days from the day +on which he had left Endelstow. Fifteen days--that fragment of +duration which has acquired such an interesting individuality from +its connection with the English marriage law. + +She involuntarily looked at her father so strangely, that on +becoming conscious of the look she paled with embarrassment. Her +father, too, looked confused. What was he thinking of? + +There seemed to be a special facility offered her by a power +external to herself in the circumstance that Mr. Swancourt had +proposed to leave home the night previous to her wished-for day. +Her father seldom took long journeys; seldom slept from home +except perhaps on the night following a remote Visitation. Well, +she would not inquire too curiously into the reason of the +opportunity, nor did he, as would have been natural, proceed to +explain it of his own accord. In matters of fact there had +hitherto been no reserve between them, though they were not +usually confidential in its full sense. But the divergence of +their emotions on Stephen's account had produced an estrangement +which just at present went even to the extent of reticence on the +most ordinary household topics. + +Elfride was almost unconsciously relieved, persuading herself that +her father's reserve on his business justified her in secrecy as +regarded her own--a secrecy which was necessarily a foregone +decision with her. So anxious is a young conscience to discover a +palliative, that the ex post facto nature of a reason is of no +account in excluding it. + +The intervening fortnight was spent by her mostly in walking by +herself among the shrubs and trees, indulging sometimes in +sanguine anticipations; more, far more frequently, in misgivings. +All her flowers seemed dull of hue; her pets seemed to look +wistfully into her eyes, as if they no longer stood in the same +friendly relation to her as formerly. She wore melancholy +jewellery, gazed at sunsets, and talked to old men and women. It +was the first time that she had had an inner and private world +apart from the visible one about her. She wished that her father, +instead of neglecting her even more than usual, would make some +advance--just one word; she would then tell all, and risk +Stephen's displeasure. Thus brought round to the youth again, she +saw him in her fancy, standing, touching her, his eyes full of sad +affection, hopelessly renouncing his attempt because she had +renounced hers; and she could not recede. + +On the Wednesday she was to receive another letter. She had +resolved to let her father see the arrival of this one, be the +consequences what they might: the dread of losing her lover by +this deed of honesty prevented her acting upon the resolve. Five +minutes before the postman's expected arrival she slipped out, and +down the lane to meet him. She met him immediately upon turning a +sharp angle, which hid her from view in the direction of the +vicarage. The man smilingly handed one missive, and was going on +to hand another, a circular from some tradesman. + +'No,' she said; 'take that on to the house.' + +'Why, miss, you are doing what your father has done for the last +fortnight.' + +She did not comprehend. + +'Why, come to this corner, and take a letter of me every morning, +all writ in the same handwriting, and letting any others for him +go on to the house.' And on the postman went. + +No sooner had he turned the corner behind her back than she heard +her father meet and address the man. She had saved her letter by +two minutes. Her father audibly went through precisely the same +performance as she had just been guilty of herself. + +This stealthy conduct of his was, to say the least, peculiar. + + +Given an impulsive inconsequent girl, neglected as to her inner +life by her only parent, and the following forces alive within +her; to determine a resultant: + +First love acted upon by a deadly fear of separation from its +object: inexperience, guiding onward a frantic wish to prevent the +above-named issue: misgivings as to propriety, met by hope of +ultimate exoneration: indignation at parental inconsistency in +first encouraging, then forbidding: a chilling sense of +disobedience, overpowered by a conscientious inability to brook a +breaking of plighted faith with a man who, in essentials, had +remained unaltered from the beginning: a blessed hope that +opposition would turn an erroneous judgement: a bright faith that +things would mend thereby, and wind up well. + +Probably the result would, after all, have been nil, had not the +following few remarks been made one day at breakfast. + +Her father was in his old hearty spirits. He smiled to himself at +stories too bad to tell, and called Elfride a little scamp for +surreptitiously preserving some blind kittens that ought to have +been drowned. After this expression, she said to him suddenly: + +If Mr. Smith had been already in the family, you would not have +been made wretched by discovering he had poor relations?' + +'Do you mean in the family by marriage?' he replied inattentively, +and continuing to peel his egg. + +The accumulating scarlet told that was her meaning, as much as the +affirmative reply. + +'I should have put up with it, no doubt,' Mr. Swancourt observed. + +'So that you would not have been driven into hopeless melancholy, +but have made the best of him?' + +Elfride's erratic mind had from her youth upwards been constantly +in the habit of perplexing her father by hypothetical questions, +based on absurd conditions. The present seemed to be cast so +precisely in the mould of previous ones that, not being given to +syntheses of circumstances, he answered it with customary +complacency. + +'If he were allied to us irretrievably, of course I, or any +sensible man, should accept conditions that could not be altered; +certainly not be hopelessly melancholy about it. I don't believe +anything in the world would make me hopelessly melancholy. And +don't let anything make you so, either.' + +'I won't, papa,' she cried, with a serene brightness that pleased +him. + +Certainly Mr. Swancourt must have been far from thinking that the +brightness came from an exhilarating intention to hold back no +longer from the mad action she had planned. + +In the evening he drove away towards Stratleigh, quite alone. It +was an unusual course for him. At the door Elfride had been again +almost impelled by her feelings to pour out all. + +'Why are you going to Stratleigh, papa?' she said, and looked at +him longingly. + +'I will tell you to-morrow when I come back,' he said cheerily; +'not before then, Elfride. Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not +know, and so far will I trust thee, gentle Elfride.' + +She was repressed and hurt. + +'I will tell you my errand to Plymouth, too, when I come back,' +she murmured. + +He went away. His jocularity made her intention seem the lighter, +as his indifference made her more resolved to do as she liked. + +It was a familiar September sunset, dark-blue fragments of cloud +upon an orange-yellow sky. These sunsets used to tempt her to +walk towards them, as any beautiful thing tempts a near approach. +She went through the field to the privet hedge, clambered into the +middle of it, and reclined upon the thick boughs. After looking +westward for a considerable time, she blamed herself for not +looking eastward to where Stephen was, and turned round. +Ultimately her eyes fell upon the ground. + +A peculiarity was observable beneath her. A green field spread +itself on each side of the hedge, one belonging to the glebe, the +other being a part of the land attached to the manor-house +adjoining. On the vicarage side she saw a little footpath, the +distinctive and altogether exceptional feature of which consisted +in its being only about ten yards long; it terminated abruptly at +each end. + +A footpath, suddenly beginning and suddenly ending, coming from +nowhere and leading nowhere, she had never seen before. + +Yes, she had, on second thoughts. She had seen exactly such a +path trodden in the front of barracks by the sentry. + +And this recollection explained the origin of the path here. Her +father had trodden it by pacing up and down, as she had once seen +him doing. + +Sitting on the hedge as she sat now, her eyes commanded a view of +both sides of it. And a few minutes later, Elfride looked over to +the manor side. + +Here was another sentry path. It was like the first in length, +and it began and ended exactly opposite the beginning and ending +of its neighbour, but it was thinner, and less distinct. + +Two reasons existed for the difference. This one might have been +trodden by a similar weight of tread to the other, exercised a +less number of times; or it might have been walked just as +frequently, but by lighter feet. + +Probably a gentleman from Scotland-yard, had he been passing at +the time, might have considered the latter alternative as the more +probable. Elfride thought otherwise, so far as she thought at +all. But her own great To-Morrow was now imminent; all thoughts +inspired by casual sights of the eye were only allowed to exercise +themselves in inferior corners of her brain, previously to being +banished altogether. + +Elfride was at length compelled to reason practically upon her +undertaking. All her definite perceptions thereon, when the +emotion accompanying them was abstracted, amounted to no more than +these: + +'Say an hour and three-quarters to ride to St. Launce's. + +'Say half an hour at the Falcon to change my dress. + +'Say two hours waiting for some train and getting to Plymouth. + +'Say an hour to spare before twelve o'clock. + +'Total time from leaving Endelstow till twelve o'clock, five +hours. + +'Therefore I shall have to start at seven.' + + +No surprise or sense of unwontedness entered the minds of the +servants at her early ride. The monotony of life we associate +with people of small incomes in districts out of the sound of the +railway whistle, has one exception, which puts into shade the +experience of dwellers about the great centres of population--that +is, in travelling. Every journey there is more or less an +adventure; adventurous hours are necessarily chosen for the most +commonplace outing. Miss Elfride had to leave early--that was +all. + +Elfride never went out on horseback but she brought home +something--something found, or something bought. If she trotted +to town or village, her burden was books. If to hills, woods, or +the seashore, it was wonderful mosses, abnormal twigs, a +handkerchief of wet shells or seaweed. + +Once, in muddy weather, when Pansy was walking with her down the +street of Castle Boterel, on a fair-day, a packet in front of her +and a packet under her arm, an accident befell the packets, and +they slipped down. On one side of her, three volumes of fiction +lay kissing the mud; on the other numerous skeins of polychromatic +wools lay absorbing it. Unpleasant women smiled through windows +at the mishap, the men all looked round, and a boy, who was +minding a ginger-bread stall whilst the owner had gone to get +drunk, laughed loudly. The blue eyes turned to sapphires, and the +cheeks crimsoned with vexation. + +After that misadventure she set her wits to work, and was +ingenious enough to invent an arrangement of small straps about +the saddle, by which a great deal could be safely carried thereon, +in a small compass. Here she now spread out and fastened a plain +dark walking-dress and a few other trifles of apparel. Worm +opened the gate for her, and she vanished away. + +One of the brightest mornings of late summer shone upon her. The +heather was at its purplest, the furze at its yellowest, the +grasshoppers chirped loud enough for birds, the snakes hissed like +little engines, and Elfride at first felt lively. Sitting at ease +upon Pansy, in her orthodox riding-habit and nondescript hat, she +looked what she felt. But the mercury of those days had a trick +of falling unexpectedly. First, only for one minute in ten had +she a sense of depression. Then a large cloud, that had been +hanging in the north like a black fleece, came and placed itself +between her and the sun. It helped on what was already +inevitable, and she sank into a uniformity of sadness. + +She turned in the saddle and looked back. They were now on an +open table-land, whose altitude still gave her a view of the sea +by Endelstow. She looked longingly at that spot. + +During this little revulsion of feeling Pansy had been still +advancing, and Elfride felt it would be absurd to turn her little +mare's head the other way. 'Still,' she thought, 'if I had a +mamma at home I WOULD go back!' + +And making one of those stealthy movements by which women let +their hearts juggle with their brains, she did put the horse's +head about, as if unconsciously, and went at a hand-gallop towards +home for more than a mile. By this time, from the inveterate +habit of valuing what we have renounced directly the alternative +is chosen, the thought of her forsaken Stephen recalled her, and +she turned about, and cantered on to St. Launce's again. + +This miserable strife of thought now began to rage in all its +wildness. Overwrought and trembling, she dropped the rein upon +Pansy's shoulders, and vowed she would be led whither the horse +would take her. + +Pansy slackened her pace to a walk, and walked on with her +agitated burden for three or four minutes. At the expiration of +this time they had come to a little by-way on the right, leading +down a slope to a pool of water. The pony stopped, looked towards +the pool, and then advanced and stooped to drink. + +Elfride looked at her watch and discovered that if she were going +to reach St. Launce's early enough to change her dress at the +Falcon, and get a chance of some early train to Plymouth--there +were only two available--it was necessary to proceed at once. + +She was impatient. It seemed as if Pansy would never stop +drinking; and the repose of the pool, the idle motions of the +insects and flies upon it, the placid waving of the flags, the +leaf-skeletons, like Genoese filigree, placidly sleeping at the +bottom, by their contrast with her own turmoil made her impatience +greater. + +Pansy did turn at last, and went up the slope again to the high- +road. The pony came upon it, and stood cross-wise, looking up and +down. Elfride's heart throbbed erratically, and she thought, +'Horses, if left to themselves, make for where they are best fed. +Pansy will go home.' + +Pansy turned and walked on towards St. Launce's + +Pansy at home, during summer, had little but grass to live on. +After a run to St. Launce's she always had a feed of corn to +support her on the return journey. Therefore, being now more than +half way, she preferred St. Launce's. + +But Elfride did not remember this now. All she cared to recognize +was a dreamy fancy that to-day's rash action was not her own. She +was disabled by her moods, and it seemed indispensable to adhere +to the programme. So strangely involved are motives that, more +than by her promise to Stephen, more even than by her love, she +was forced on by a sense of the necessity of keeping faith with +herself, as promised in the inane vow of ten minutes ago. + +She hesitated no longer. Pansy went, like the steed of Adonis, as +if she told the steps. Presently the quaint gables and jumbled +roofs of St. Launce's were spread beneath her, and going down the +hill she entered the courtyard of the Falcon. Mrs. Buckle, the +landlady, came to the door to meet her. + +The Swancourts were well known here. The transition from +equestrian to the ordinary guise of railway travellers had been +more than once performed by father and daughter in this +establishment. + +In less than a quarter of an hour Elfride emerged from the door in +her walking dress, and went to the railway. She had not told Mrs. +Buckle anything as to her intentions, and was supposed to have +gone out shopping. + +An hour and forty minutes later, and she was in Stephen's arms at +the Plymouth station. Not upon the platform--in the secret +retreat of a deserted waiting-room. + +Stephen's face boded ill. He was pale and despondent. + +What is the matter?' she asked. + +'We cannot be married here to-day, my Elfie! I ought to have known +it and stayed here. In my ignorance I did not. I have the +licence, but it can only be used in my parish in London. I only +came down last night, as you know.' + +'What shall we do?' she said blankly. + +'There's only one thing we can do, darling.' + +'What's that?' + +'Go on to London by a train just starting, and be married there +to-morrow.' + +'Passengers for the 11.5 up-train take their seats!' said a +guard's voice on the platform. + +'Will you go, Elfride?' + +'I will.' + +In three minutes the train had moved off, bearing away with it +Stephen and Elfride. + + + +Chapter XII + +'Adieu! she cries, and waved her lily hand.' + + +The few tattered clouds of the morning enlarged and united, the +sun withdrew behind them to emerge no more that day, and the +evening drew to a close in drifts of rain. The water-drops beat +like duck shot against the window of the railway-carriage +containing Stephen and Elfride. + +The journey from Plymouth to Paddington, by even the most headlong +express, allows quite enough leisure for passion of any sort to +cool. Elfride's excitement had passed off, and she sat in a kind +of stupor during the latter half of the journey. She was aroused +by the clanging of the maze of rails over which they traced their +way at the entrance to the station. + +Is this London?' she said. + +'Yes, darling,' said Stephen in a tone of assurance he was far +from feeling. To him, no less than to her, the reality so greatly +differed from the prefiguring. + +She peered out as well as the window, beaded with drops, would +allow her, and saw only the lamps, which had just been lit, +blinking in the wet atmosphere, and rows of hideous zinc chimney- +pipes in dim relief against the sky. She writhed uneasily, as +when a thought is swelling in the mind which must cause much pain +at its deliverance in words. Elfride had known no more about the +stings of evil report than the native wild-fowl knew of the +effects of Crusoe's first shot. Now she saw a little further, and +a little further still. + +The train stopped. Stephen relinquished the soft hand he had held +all the day, and proceeded to assist her on to the platform. + +This act of alighting upon strange ground seemed all that was +wanted to complete a resolution within her. + +She looked at her betrothed with despairing eyes. + +'O Stephen,' she exclaimed, 'I am so miserable! I must go home +again--I must--I must! Forgive my wretched vacillation. I don't +like it here--nor myself--nor you!' + +Stephen looked bewildered, and did not speak. + +'Will you allow me to go home?' she implored. 'I won't trouble +you to go with me. I will not be any weight upon you; only say +you will agree to my returning; that you will not hate me for it, +Stephen! It is better that I should return again; indeed it is, +Stephen.' + +'But we can't return now,' he said in a deprecatory tone. + +'I must! I will!' + +'How? When do you want to go?' + +'Now. Can we go at once?' + +The lad looked hopelessly along the platform. + +'If you must go, and think it wrong to remain, dearest,' said he +sadly, 'you shall. You shall do whatever you like, my Elfride. +But would you in reality rather go now than stay till to-morrow, +and go as my wife?' + +'Yes, yes--much--anything to go now. I must; I must!' she cried. + +'We ought to have done one of two things,' he answered gloomily. +'Never to have started, or not to have returned without being +married. I don't like to say it, Elfride--indeed I don't; but you +must be told this, that going back unmarried may compromise your +good name in the eyes of people who may hear of it.' + +'They will not; and I must go.' + +'O Elfride! I am to blame for bringing you away.' + +'Not at all. I am the elder.' + +'By a month; and what's that? But never mind that now.' He looked +around. 'Is there a train for Plymouth to-night?' he inquired of +a guard. The guard passed on and did not speak. + +'Is there a train for Plymouth to-night?' said Elfride to another. + +'Yes, miss; the 8.10--leaves in ten minutes. You have come to the +wrong platform; it is the other side. Change at Bristol into the +night mail. Down that staircase, and under the line.' + +They ran down the staircase--Elfride first--to the booking-office, +and into a carriage with an official standing beside the door. +'Show your tickets, please.' They are locked in--men about the +platform accelerate their velocities till they fly up and down +like shuttles in a loom--a whistle--the waving of a flag--a human +cry--a steam groan--and away they go to Plymouth again, just +catching these words as they glide off: + +'Those two youngsters had a near run for it, and no mistake!' + +Elfride found her breath. + +'And have you come too, Stephen? Why did you?' + +'I shall not leave you till I see you safe at St. Launce's. Do +not think worse of me than I am, Elfride.' + +And then they rattled along through the night, back again by the +way they had come. The weather cleared, and the stars shone in +upon them. Their two or three fellow-passengers sat for most of +the time with closed eyes. Stephen sometimes slept; Elfride alone +was wakeful and palpitating hour after hour. + +The day began to break, and revealed that they were by the sea. +Red rocks overhung them, and, receding into distance, grew livid +in the blue grey atmosphere. The sun rose, and sent penetrating +shafts of light in upon their weary faces. Another hour, and the +world began to be busy. They waited yet a little, and the train +slackened its speed in view of the platform at St. Launce's. + +She shivered, and mused sadly. + +'I did not see all the consequences,' she said. 'Appearances are +wofully against me. If anybody finds me out, I am, I suppose, +disgraced.' + +'Then appearances will speak falsely; and how can that matter, +even if they do? I shall be your husband sooner or later, for +certain, and so prove your purity.' + +'Stephen, once in London I ought to have married you,' she said +firmly. 'It was my only safe defence. I see more things now than +I did yesterday. My only remaining chance is not to be +discovered; and that we must fight for most desperately.' + +They stepped out. Elfride pulled a thick veil over her face. + +A woman with red and scaly eyelids and glistening eyes was sitting +on a bench just inside the office-door. She fixed her eyes upon +Elfride with an expression whose force it was impossible to doubt, +but the meaning of which was not clear; then upon the carriage +they had left. She seemed to read a sinister story in the scene. + +Elfride shrank back, and turned the other way. + +'Who is that woman?' said Stephen. 'She looked hard at you.' + +'Mrs. Jethway--a widow, and mother of that young man whose tomb we +sat on the other night. Stephen, she is my enemy. Would that God +had had mercy enough upon me to have hidden this from HER!' + +'Do not talk so hopelessly,' he remonstrated. 'I don't think she +recognized us.' + +'I pray that she did not.' + +He put on a more vigorous mood. + +'Now, we will go and get some breakfast.' + +'No, no!' she begged. 'I cannot eat. I MUST get back to +Endelstow.' + +Elfride was as if she had grown years older than Stephen now. + +'But you have had nothing since last night but that cup of tea at +Bristol.' + +'I can't eat, Stephen.' + +'Wine and biscuit?' + +'No.' + +'Nor tea, nor coffee?' + +'No.' + +'A glass of water?' + +'No. I want something that makes people strong and energetic for +the present, that borrows the strength of to-morrow for use to- +day--leaving to-morrow without any at all for that matter; or even +that would take all life away to-morrow, so long as it enabled me +to get home again now. Brandy, that's what I want. That woman's +eyes have eaten my heart away!' + +'You are wild; and you grieve me, darling. Must it be brandy?' + +'Yes, if you please.' + +'How much?' + +'I don't know. I have never drunk more than a teaspoonful at +once. All I know is that I want it. Don't get it at the Falcon.' + +He left her in the fields, and went to the nearest inn in that +direction. Presently he returned with a small flask nearly full, +and some slices of bread-and-butter, thin as wafers, in a paper- +bag. Elfride took a sip or two. + +'It goes into my eyes,' she said wearily. 'I can't take any more. +Yes, I will; I will close my eyes. Ah, it goes to them by an +inside route. I don't want it; throw it away.' + +However, she could eat, and did eat. Her chief attention was +concentrated upon how to get the horse from the Falcon stables +without suspicion. Stephen was not allowed to accompany her into +the town. She acted now upon conclusions reached without any aid +from him: his power over her seemed to have departed. + +'You had better not be seen with me, even here where I am so +little known. We have begun stealthily as thieves, and we must +end stealthily as thieves, at all hazards. Until papa has been +told by me myself, a discovery would be terrible.' + +Walking and gloomily talking thus they waited till nearly nine +o'clock, at which time Elfride thought she might call at the +Falcon without creating much surprise. Behind the railway-station +was the river, spanned by an old Tudor bridge, whence the road +diverged in two directions, one skirting the suburbs of the town, +and winding round again into the high-road to Endelstow. Beside +this road Stephen sat, and awaited her return from the Falcon. + +He sat as one sitting for a portrait, motionless, watching the +chequered lights and shades on the tree-trunks, the children +playing opposite the school previous to entering for the morning +lesson, the reapers in a field afar off. The certainty of +possession had not come, and there was nothing to mitigate the +youth's gloom, that increased with the thought of the parting now +so near. + +At length she came trotting round to him, in appearance much as on +the romantic morning of their visit to the cliff, but shorn of the +radiance which glistened about her then. However, her comparative +immunity from further risk and trouble had considerably composed +her. Elfride's capacity for being wounded was only surpassed by +her capacity for healing, which rightly or wrongly is by some +considered an index of transientness of feeling in general. + +'Elfride, what did they say at the Falcon?' + +'Nothing. Nobody seemed curious about me. They knew I went to +Plymouth, and I have stayed there a night now and then with Miss +Bicknell. I rather calculated upon that.' + +And now parting arose like a death to these children, for it was +imperative that she should start at once. Stephen walked beside +her for nearly a mile. During the walk he said sadly: + +'Elfride, four-and-twenty hours have passed, and the thing is not +done.' + +'But you have insured that it shall be done.' + +'How have I?' + +'O Stephen, you ask how! Do you think I could marry another man on +earth after having gone thus far with you? Have I not shown beyond +possibility of doubt that I can be nobody else's? Have I not +irretrievably committed myself?--pride has stood for nothing in +the face of my great love. You misunderstood my turning back, and +I cannot explain it. It was wrong to go with you at all; and +though it would have been worse to go further, it would have been +better policy, perhaps. Be assured of this, that whenever you +have a home for me--however poor and humble--and come and claim +me, I am ready.' She added bitterly, 'When my father knows of this +day's work, he may be only too glad to let me go.' + +'Perhaps he may, then, insist upon our marriage at once!' Stephen +answered, seeing a ray of hope in the very focus of her remorse. +'I hope he may, even if we had still to part till I am ready for +you, as we intended.' + +Elfride did not reply. + +'You don't seem the same woman, Elfie, that you were yesterday.' + +'Nor am I. But good-bye. Go back now.' And she reined the horse +for parting. 'O Stephen,' she cried, 'I feel so weak! I don't +know how to meet him. Cannot you, after all, come back with me?' + +'Shall I come?' + +Elfride paused to think. + +'No; it will not do. It is my utter foolishness that makes me say +such words. But he will send for you.' + +'Say to him,' continued Stephen, 'that we did this in the absolute +despair of our minds. Tell him we don't wish him to favour us-- +only to deal justly with us. If he says, marry now, so much the +better. If not, say that all may be put right by his promise to +allow me to have you when I am good enough for you--which may be +soon. Say I have nothing to offer him in exchange for his +treasure--the more sorry I; but all the love, and all the life, +and all the labour of an honest man shall be yours. As to when +this had better be told, I leave you to judge.' + +His words made her cheerful enough to toy with her position. + +'And if ill report should come, Stephen,' she said smiling, 'why, +the orange-tree must save me, as it saved virgins in St. George's +time from the poisonous breath of the dragon. There, forgive me +for forwardness: I am going.' + +Then the boy and girl beguiled themselves with words of half- +parting only. + +'Own wifie, God bless you till we meet again!' + +'Till we meet again, good-bye!' + +And the pony went on, and she spoke to him no more. He saw her +figure diminish and her blue veil grow gray--saw it with the +agonizing sensations of a slow death. + +After thus parting from a man than whom she had known none greater +as yet, Elfride rode rapidly onwards, a tear being occasionally +shaken from her eyes into the road. What yesterday had seemed so +desirable, so promising, even trifling, had now acquired the +complexion of a tragedy. + +She saw the rocks and sea in the neighbourhood of Endelstow, and +heaved a sigh of relief + +When she passed a field behind the vicarage she heard the voices +of Unity and William Worm. They were hanging a carpet upon a +line. Unity was uttering a sentence that concluded with 'when +Miss Elfride comes.' + +'When d'ye expect her?' + +'Not till evening now. She's safe enough at Miss Bicknell's, +bless ye.' + +Elfride went round to the door. She did not knock or ring; and +seeing nobody to take the horse, Elfride led her round to the +yard, slipped off the bridle and saddle, drove her towards the +paddock, and turned her in. Then Elfride crept indoors, and +looked into all the ground-floor rooms. Her father was not there. + +On the mantelpiece of the drawing-room stood a letter addressed to +her in his handwriting. She took it and read it as she went +upstairs to change her habit. + + +STRATLEIGH, Thursday. + +'DEAR ELFRIDE,--On second thoughts I will not return to-day, but +only come as far as Wadcombe. I shall be at home by to-morrow +afternoon, and bring a friend with me.--Yours, in haste, + C. S.' + + +After making a quick toilet she felt more revived, though still +suffering from a headache. On going out of the door she met Unity +at the top of the stair. + +'O Miss Elfride! I said to myself 'tis her sperrit! We didn't +dream o' you not coming home last night. You didn't say anything +about staying.' + +'I intended to come home the same evening, but altered my plan. I +wished I hadn't afterwards. Papa will be angry, I suppose?' + +'Better not tell him, miss,' said Unity. + +'I do fear to,' she murmured. 'Unity, would you just begin +telling him when he comes home?' + +'What! and get you into trouble?' + +'I deserve it.' + +'No, indeed, I won't,' said Unity. 'It is not such a mighty +matter, Miss Elfride. I says to myself, master's taking a +hollerday, and because he's not been kind lately to Miss Elfride, +she----' + +'Is imitating him. Well, do as you like. And will you now bring +me some luncheon?' + +After satisfying an appetite which the fresh marine air had given +her in its victory over an agitated mind, she put on her hat and +went to the garden and summer-house. She sat down, and leant with +her head in a corner. Here she fell asleep. + +Half-awake, she hurriedly looked at the time. She had been there +three hours. At the same moment she heard the outer gate swing +together, and wheels sweep round the entrance; some prior noise +from the same source having probably been the cause of her +awaking. Next her father's voice was heard calling to Worm. + +Elfride passed along a walk towards the house behind a belt of +shrubs. She heard a tongue holding converse with her father, +which was not that of either of the servants. Her father and the +stranger were laughing together. Then there was a rustling of +silk, and Mr. Swancourt and his companion, or companions, to all +seeming entered the door of the house, for nothing more of them +was audible. Elfride had turned back to meditate on what friends +these could be, when she heard footsteps, and her father +exclaiming behind her: + +'O Elfride, here you are! I hope you got on well?' + +Elfride's heart smote her, and she did not speak. + +'Come back to the summer-house a minute,' continued Mr. Swancourt; +'I have to tell you of that I promised to.' + +They entered the summer-house, and stood leaning over the knotty +woodwork of the balustrade. + +'Now,' said her father radiantly, 'guess what I have to say.' He +seemed to be regarding his own existence so intently, that he took +no interest in nor even saw the complexion of hers. + +'I cannot, papa,' she said sadly. + +'Try, dear.' + +'I would rather not, indeed.' + +'You are tired. You look worn. The ride was too much for you. +Well, this is what I went away for. I went to be married!' + +'Married!' she faltered, and could hardly check an involuntary 'So +did I.' A moment after and her resolve to confess perished like a +bubble. + +'Yes; to whom do you think? Mrs. Troyton, the new owner of the +estate over the hedge, and of the old manor-house. It was only +finally settled between us when I went to Stratleigh a few days +ago.' He lowered his voice to a sly tone of merriment. 'Now, as +to your stepmother, you'll find she is not much to look at, though +a good deal to listen to. She is twenty years older than myself, +for one thing.' + +'You forget that I know her. She called here once, after we had +been, and found her away from home.' + +'Of course, of course. Well, whatever her looks are, she's as +excellent a woman as ever breathed. She has had lately left her +as absolute property three thousand five hundred a year, besides +the devise of this estate--and, by the way, a large legacy came to +her in satisfaction of dower, as it is called.' + +'Three thousand five hundred a year!' + +'And a large--well, a fair-sized--mansion in town, and a pedigree +as long as my walking-stick; though that bears evidence of being +rather a raked-up affair--done since the family got rich--people +do those things now as they build ruins on maiden estates and cast +antiques at Birmingham.' + +Elfride merely listened and said nothing. + +He continued more quietly and impressively. 'Yes, Elfride, she is +wealthy in comparison with us, though with few connections. +However, she will introduce you to the world a little. We are +going to exchange her house in Baker Street for one at Kensington, +for your sake. Everybody is going there now, she says. At +Easters we shall fly to town for the usual three months--I shall +have a curate of course by that time. Elfride, I am past love, +you know, and I honestly confess that I married her for your sake. +Why a woman of her standing should have thrown herself away upon +me, God knows. But I suppose her age and plainness were too +pronounced for a town man. With your good looks, if you now play +your cards well, you may marry anybody. Of course, a little +contrivance will be necessary; but there's nothing to stand +between you and a husband with a title, that I can see. Lady +Luxellian was only a squire's daughter. Now, don't you see how +foolish the old fancy was? But come, she is indoors waiting to see +you. It is as good as a play, too,' continued the vicar, as they +walked towards the house. 'I courted her through the privet hedge +yonder: not entirely, you know, but we used to walk there of an +evening--nearly every evening at last. But I needn't tell you +details now; everything was terribly matter-of-fact, I assure you. +At last, that day I saw her at Stratleigh, we determined to settle +it off-hand.' + +'And you never said a word to me,' replied Elfride, not +reproachfully either in tone or thought. Indeed, her feeling was +the very reverse of reproachful. She felt relieved and even +thankful. Where confidence had not been given, how could +confidence be expected? + +Her father mistook her dispassionateness for a veil of politeness +over a sense of ill-usage. 'I am not altogether to blame,' he +said. 'There were two or three reasons for secrecy. One was the +recent death of her relative the testator, though that did not +apply to you. But remember, Elfride,' he continued in a stiffer +tone, 'you had mixed yourself up so foolishly with those low +people, the Smiths--and it was just, too, when Mrs. Troyton and +myself were beginning to understand each other--that I resolved to +say nothing even to you. How did I know how far you had gone with +them and their son? You might have made a point of taking tea with +them every day, for all that I knew.' + +Elfride swallowed her feelings as she best could, and languidly +though flatly asked a question. + +'Did you kiss Mrs. Troyton on the lawn about three weeks ago? That +evening I came into the study and found you had just had candles +in?' + +Mr. Swancourt looked rather red and abashed, as middle-aged lovers +are apt to do when caught in the tricks of younger ones. + +'Well, yes; I think I did,' he stammered; 'just to please her, you +know.' And then recovering himself he laughed heartily. + +'And was this what your Horatian quotation referred to?' + +'It was, Elfride.' + +They stepped into the drawing-room from the verandah. At that +moment Mrs. Swancourt came downstairs, and entered the same room +by the door. + +'Here, Charlotte, is my little Elfride,' said Mr. Swancourt, with +the increased affection of tone often adopted towards relations +when newly produced. + +Poor Elfride, not knowing what to do, did nothing at all; but +stood receptive of all that came to her by sight, hearing, and +touch. + +Mrs. Swancourt moved forward, took her step-daughter's hand, then +kissed her. + +'Ah, darling!' she exclaimed good-humouredly, 'you didn't think +when you showed a strange old woman over the conservatory a month +or two ago, and explained the flowers to her so prettily, that she +would so soon be here in new colours. Nor did she, I am sure.' + +The new mother had been truthfully enough described by Mr. +Swancourt. She was not physically attractive. She was dark--very +dark--in complexion, portly in figure, and with a plentiful +residuum of hair in the proportion of half a dozen white ones to +half a dozen black ones, though the latter were black indeed. No +further observed, she was not a woman to like. But there was more +to see. To the most superficial critic it was apparent that she +made no attempt to disguise her age. She looked sixty at the +first glance, and close acquaintanceship never proved her older. + +Another and still more winning trait was one attaching to the +corners of her mouth. Before she made a remark these often +twitched gently: not backwards and forwards, the index of +nervousness; not down upon the jaw, the sign of determination; but +palpably upwards, in precisely the curve adopted to represent +mirth in the broad caricatures of schoolboys. Only this element +in her face was expressive of anything within the woman, but it +was unmistakable. It expressed humour subjective as well as +objective--which could survey the peculiarities of self in as +whimsical a light as those of other people. + +This is not all of Mrs. Swancourt. She had held out to Elfride +hands whose fingers were literally stiff with rings, signis +auroque rigentes, like Helen's robe. These rows of rings were not +worn in vanity apparently. They were mostly antique and dull, +though a few were the reverse. + + +RIGHT HAND. + +1st. Plainly set oval onyx, representing a devil's head. 2nd. +Green jasper intaglio, with red veins. 3rd. Entirely gold, +bearing figure of a hideous griffin. 4th. A sea-green monster +diamond, with small diamonds round it. 5th. Antique cornelian +intaglio of dancing figure of a satyr. 6th. An angular band +chased with dragons' heads. 7th. A facetted carbuncle accompanied +by ten little twinkling emeralds; &c. &c. + + +LEFT HAND. + +1st. A reddish-yellow toadstone. 2nd. A heavy ring enamelled in +colours, and bearing a jacynth. 3rd. An amethystine sapphire. +4th. A polished ruby, surrounded by diamonds. 5th. The engraved +ring of an abbess. 6th. A gloomy intaglio; &c. &c. + + +Beyond this rather quaint array of stone and metal Mrs. Swancourt +wore no ornament whatever. + +Elfride had been favourably impressed with Mrs. Troyton at their +meeting about two months earlier; but to be pleased with a woman +as a momentary acquaintance was different from being taken with +her as a stepmother. However, the suspension of feeling was but +for a moment. Elfride decided to like her still. + +Mrs. Swancourt was a woman of the world as to knowledge, the +reverse as to action, as her marriage suggested. Elfride and the +lady were soon inextricably involved in conversation, and Mr. +Swancourt left them to themselves. + +'And what do you find to do with yourself here?' Mrs. Swancourt +said, after a few remarks about the wedding. 'You ride, I know.' + +'Yes, I ride. But not much, because papa doesn't like my going +alone.' + +'You must have somebody to look after you.' + +'And I read, and write a little.' + +'You should write a novel. The regular resource of people who +don't go enough into the world to live a novel is to write one.' + +'I have done it,' said Elfride, looking dubiously at Mrs. +Swancourt, as if in doubt whether she would meet with ridicule +there. + +'That's right. Now, then, what is it about, dear?' + +'About--well, it is a romance of the Middle Ages.' + +'Knowing nothing of the present age, which everybody knows about, +for safety you chose an age known neither to you nor other people. +That's it, eh? No, no; I don't mean it, dear.' + +'Well, I have had some opportunities of studying mediaeval art and +manners in the library and private museum at Endelstow House, and +I thought I should like to try my hand upon a fiction. I know the +time for these tales is past; but I was interested in it, very +much interested.' + +'When is it to appear?' + +'Oh, never, I suppose.' + +'Nonsense, my dear girl. Publish it, by all means. All ladies do +that sort of thing now; not for profit, you know, but as a +guarantee of mental respectability to their future husbands.' + +'An excellent idea of us ladies.' + +'Though I am afraid it rather resembles the melancholy ruse of +throwing loaves over castle-walls at besiegers, and suggests +desperation rather than plenty inside.' + +'Did you ever try it?' + +'No; I was too far gone even for that.' + +'Papa says no publisher will take my book.' + +'That remains to be proved. I'll give my word, my dear, that by +this time next year it shall be printed.' + +'Will you, indeed?' said Elfride, partially brightening with +pleasure, though she was sad enough in her depths. 'I thought +brains were the indispensable, even if the only, qualification for +admission to the republic of letters. A mere commonplace creature +like me will soon be turned out again.' + +'Oh no; once you are there you'll be like a drop of water in a +piece of rock-crystal--your medium will dignify your commonness.' + +'It will be a great satisfaction,' Elfride murmured, and thought +of Stephen, and wished she could make a great fortune by writing +romances, and marry him and live happily. + +'And then we'll go to London, and then to Paris,' said Mrs. +Swancourt. 'I have been talking to your father about it. But we +have first to move into the manor-house, and we think of staying +at Torquay whilst that is going on. Meanwhile, instead of going +on a honeymoon scamper by ourselves, we have come home to fetch +you, and go all together to Bath for two or three weeks.' + +Elfride assented pleasantly, even gladly; but she saw that, by +this marriage, her father and herself had ceased for ever to be +the close relations they had been up to a few weeks ago. It was +impossible now to tell him the tale of her wild elopement with +Stephen Smith. + +He was still snugly housed in her heart. His absence had regained +for him much of that aureola of saintship which had been nearly +abstracted during her reproachful mood on that miserable journey +from London. Rapture is often cooled by contact with its cause, +especially if under awkward conditions. And that last experience +with Stephen had done anything but make him shine in her eyes. +His very kindness in letting her return was his offence. Elfride +had her sex's love of sheer force in a man, however ill-directed; +and at that critical juncture in London Stephen's only chance of +retaining the ascendancy over her that his face and not his parts +had acquired for him, would have been by doing what, for one +thing, he was too youthful to undertake--that was, dragging her by +the wrist to the rails of some altar, and peremptorily marrying +her. Decisive action is seen by appreciative minds to be +frequently objectless, and sometimes fatal; but decision, however +suicidal, has more charm for a woman than the most unequivocal +Fabian success. + +However, some of the unpleasant accessories of that occasion were +now out of sight again, and Stephen had resumed not a few of his +fancy colours. + + + +Chapter XIII + +'He set in order many proverbs.' + + +It is London in October--two months further on in the story. + +Bede's Inn has this peculiarity, that it faces, receives from, and +discharges into a bustling thoroughfare speaking only of wealth +and respectability, whilst its postern abuts on as crowded and +poverty-stricken a network of alleys as are to be found anywhere +in the metropolis. The moral consequences are, first, that those +who occupy chambers in the Inn may see a great deal of shirtless +humanity's habits and enjoyments without doing more than look down +from a back window; and second they may hear wholesome though +unpleasant social reminders through the medium of a harsh voice, +an unequal footstep, the echo of a blow or a fall, which +originates in the person of some drunkard or wife-beater, as he +crosses and interferes with the quiet of the square. Characters +of this kind frequently pass through the Inn from a little foxhole +of an alley at the back, but they never loiter there. + +It is hardly necessary to state that all the sights and movements +proper to the Inn are most orderly. On the fine October evening +on which we follow Stephen Smith to this place, a placid porter is +sitting on a stool under a sycamore-tree in the midst, with a +little cane in his hand. We notice the thick coat of soot upon +the branches, hanging underneath them in flakes, as in a chimney. +The blackness of these boughs does not at present improve the +tree--nearly forsaken by its leaves as it is--but in the spring +their green fresh beauty is made doubly beautiful by the contrast. +Within the railings is a flower-garden of respectable dahlias and +chrysanthemums, where a man is sweeping the leaves from the grass. + +Stephen selects a doorway, and ascends an old though wide wooden +staircase, with moulded balusters and handrail, which in a country +manor-house would be considered a noteworthy specimen of +Renaissance workmanship. He reaches a door on the first floor, +over which is painted, in black letters, 'Mr. Henry Knight'-- +'Barrister-at-law' being understood but not expressed. The wall +is thick, and there is a door at its outer and inner face. The +outer one happens to be ajar: Stephen goes to the other, and taps. + +'Come in!' from distant penetralia. + +First was a small anteroom, divided from the inner apartment by a +wainscoted archway two or three yards wide. Across this archway +hung a pair of dark-green curtains, making a mystery of all within +the arch except the spasmodic scratching of a quill pen. Here was +grouped a chaotic assemblage of articles--mainly old framed prints +and paintings--leaning edgewise against the wall, like roofing +slates in a builder's yard. All the books visible here were +folios too big to be stolen--some lying on a heavy oak table in +one corner, some on the floor among the pictures, the whole +intermingled with old coats, hats, umbrellas, and walking-sticks. + +Stephen pushed aside the curtain, and before him sat a man writing +away as if his life depended upon it--which it did. + +A man of thirty in a speckled coat, with dark brown hair, curly +beard, and crisp moustache: the latter running into the beard on +each side of the mouth, and, as usual, hiding the real expression +of that organ under a chronic aspect of impassivity. + +'Ah, my dear fellow, I knew 'twas you,' said Knight, looking up +with a smile, and holding out his hand. + +Knight's mouth and eyes came to view now. Both features were +good, and had the peculiarity of appearing younger and fresher +than the brow and face they belonged to, which were getting +sicklied o'er by the unmistakable pale cast. The mouth had not +quite relinquished rotundity of curve for the firm angularities of +middle life; and the eyes, though keen, permeated rather than +penetrated: what they had lost of their boy-time brightness by a +dozen years of hard reading lending a quietness to their gaze +which suited them well. + +A lady would have said there was a smell of tobacco in the room: a +man that there was not. + +Knight did not rise. He looked at a timepiece on the mantelshelf, +then turned again to his letters, pointing to a chair. + +'Well, I am glad you have come. I only returned to town +yesterday; now, don't speak, Stephen, for ten minutes; I have just +that time to the late post. At the eleventh minute, I'm your man.' + +Stephen sat down as if this kind of reception was by no means new, +and away went Knight's pen, beating up and down like a ship in a +storm. + +Cicero called the library the soul of the house; here the house +was all soul. Portions of the floor, and half the wall-space, +were taken up by book-shelves ordinary and extraordinary; the +remaining parts, together with brackets, side-tables, &c., being +occupied by casts, statuettes, medallions, and plaques of various +descriptions, picked up by the owner in his wanderings through +France and Italy. + +One stream only of evening sunlight came into the room from a +window quite in the corner, overlooking a court. An aquarium +stood in the window. It was a dull parallelopipedon enough for +living creatures at most hours of the day; but for a few minutes +in the evening, as now, an errant, kindly ray lighted up and +warmed the little world therein, when the many-coloured zoophytes +opened and put forth their arms, the weeds acquired a rich +transparency, the shells gleamed of a more golden yellow, and the +timid community expressed gladness more plainly than in words. + +Within the prescribed ten minutes Knight flung down his pen, rang +for the boy to take the letters to the post, and at the closing of +the door exclaimed, 'There; thank God, that's done. Now, Stephen, +pull your chair round, and tell me what you have been doing all +this time. Have you kept up your Greek?' + +'No.' + +'How's that?' + +'I haven't enough spare time.' + +'That's nonsense.' + +'Well, I have done a great many things, if not that. And I have +done one extraordinary thing.' + +Knight turned full upon Stephen. 'Ah-ha! Now, then, let me look +into your face, put two and two together, and make a shrewd +guess.' + +Stephen changed to a redder colour. + +'Why, Smith,' said Knight, after holding him rigidly by the +shoulders, and keenly scrutinising his countenance for a minute in +silence, 'you have fallen in love.' + +'Well--the fact is----' + +'Now, out with it.' But seeing that Stephen looked rather +distressed, he changed to a kindly tone. 'Now Smith, my lad, you +know me well enough by this time, or you ought to; and you know +very well that if you choose to give me a detailed account of the +phenomenon within you, I shall listen; if you don't, I am the last +man in the world to care to hear it.' + +'I'll tell this much: I HAVE fallen in love, and I want to be +MARRIED.' + +Knight looked ominous as this passed Stephen's lips. + +'Don't judge me before you have heard more,' cried Stephen +anxiously, seeing the change in his friend's countenance. + +'I don't judge. Does your mother know about it?' + +'Nothing definite.' + +'Father?' + +'No. But I'll tell you. The young person----' + +'Come, that's dreadfully ungallant. But perhaps I understand the +frame of mind a little, so go on. Your sweetheart----' + +'She is rather higher in the world than I am.' + +'As it should be.' + +'And her father won't hear of it, as I now stand.' + +'Not an uncommon case.' + +'And now comes what I want your advice upon. Something has +happened at her house which makes it out of the question for us to +ask her father again now. So we are keeping silent. In the +meantime an architect in India has just written to Mr. Hewby to +ask whether he can find for him a young assistant willing to go +over to Bombay to prepare drawings for work formerly done by the +engineers. The salary he offers is 350 rupees a month, or about +35 Pounds. Hewby has mentioned it to me, and I have been to Dr. +Wray, who says I shall acclimatise without much illness. Now, +would you go?' + +'You mean to say, because it is a possible road to the young +lady.' + +'Yes; I was thinking I could go over and make a little money, and +then come back and ask for her. I have the option of practising +for myself after a year.' + +'Would she be staunch?' + +'Oh yes! For ever--to the end of her life!' + +'How do you know?' + +'Why, how do people know? Of course, she will.' + +Knight leant back in his chair. 'Now, though I know her +thoroughly as she exists in your heart, Stephen, I don't know her +in the flesh. All I want to ask is, is this idea of going to +India based entirely upon a belief in her fidelity?' + +'Yes; I should not go if it were not for her.' + +'Well, Stephen, you have put me in rather an awkward position. If +I give my true sentiments, I shall hurt your feelings; if I don't, +I shall hurt my own judgment. And remember, I don't know much +about women.' + +'But you have had attachments, although you tell me very little +about them.' + +'And I only hope you'll continue to prosper till I tell you more.' + +Stephen winced at this rap. 'I have never formed a deep +attachment,' continued Knight. 'I never have found a woman worth +it. Nor have I been once engaged to be married.' + +'You write as if you had been engaged a hundred times, if I may be +allowed to say so,' said Stephen in an injured tone. + +'Yes, that may be. But, my dear Stephen, it is only those who +half know a thing that write about it. Those who know it +thoroughly don't take the trouble. All I know about women, or men +either, is a mass of generalities. I plod along, and occasionally +lift my eyes and skim the weltering surface of mankind lying +between me and the horizon, as a crow might; no more.' + +Knight stopped as if he had fallen into a train of thought, and +Stephen looked with affectionate awe at a master whose mind, he +believed, could swallow up at one meal all that his own head +contained. + +There was affective sympathy, but no great intellectual +fellowship, between Knight and Stephen Smith. Knight had seen his +young friend when the latter was a cherry-cheeked happy boy, had +been interested in him, had kept his eye upon him, and generously +helped the lad to books, till the mere connection of patronage +grew to acquaintance, and that ripened to friendship. And so, +though Smith was not at all the man Knight would have deliberately +chosen as a friend--or even for one of a group of a dozen friends-- +he somehow was his friend. Circumstance, as usual, did it all. +How many of us can say of our most intimate alter ego, leaving +alone friends of the outer circle, that he is the man we should +have chosen, as embodying the net result after adding up all the +points in human nature that we love, and principles we hold, and +subtracting all that we hate? The man is really somebody we got to +know by mere physical juxtaposition long maintained, and was taken +into our confidence, and even heart, as a makeshift. + +'And what do you think of her?' Stephen ventured to say, after a +silence. + +'Taking her merits on trust from you,' said Knight, 'as we do +those of the Roman poets of whom we know nothing but that they +lived, I still think she will not stick to you through, say, three +years of absence in India.' + +'But she will!' cried Stephen desperately. 'She is a girl all +delicacy and honour. And no woman of that kind, who has committed +herself so into a man's hands as she has into mine, could possibly +marry another.' + +'How has she committed herself?' asked Knight cunously. + +Stephen did not answer. Knight had looked on his love so +sceptically that it would not do to say all that he had intended +to say by any means. + +'Well, don't tell,' said Knight. 'But you are begging the +question, which is, I suppose, inevitable in love.' + +'And I'll tell you another thing,' the younger man pleaded. 'You +remember what you said to me once about women receiving a kiss. +Don't you? Why, that instead of our being charmed by the +fascination of their bearing at such a time, we should immediately +doubt them if their confusion has any GRACE in it--that awkward +bungling was the true charm of the occasion, implying that we are +the first who has played such a part with them.' + +'It is true, quite,' said Knight musingly. + +It often happened that the disciple thus remembered the lessons of +the master long after the master himself had forgotten them. + +'Well, that was like her!' cried Stephen triumphantly. 'She was +in such a flurry that she didn't know what she was doing.' + +'Splendid, splendid!' said Knight soothingly. 'So that all I have +to say is, that if you see a good opening in Bombay there's no +reason why you should not go without troubling to draw fine +distinctions as to reasons. No man fully realizes what opinions +he acts upon, or what his actions mean.' + +'Yes; I go to Bombay. I'll write a note here, if you don't mind.' + +'Sleep over it--it is the best plan--and write to-morrow. +Meantime, go there to that window and sit down, and look at my +Humanity Show. I am going to dine out this evening, and have to +dress here out of my portmanteau. I bring up my things like this +to save the trouble of going down to my place at Richmond and back +again.' + +Knight then went to the middle of the room and flung open his +portmanteau, and Stephen drew near the window. The streak of +sunlight had crept upward, edged away, and vanished; the zoophytes +slept: a dusky gloom pervaded the room. And now another volume of +light shone over the window. + +'There!' said Knight, 'where is there in England a spectacle to +equal that? I sit there and watch them every night before I go +home. Softly open the sash.' + +Beneath them was an alley running up to the wall, and thence +turning sideways and passing under an arch, so that Knight's back +window was immediately over the angle, and commanded a view of the +alley lengthwise. Crowds--mostly of women--were surging, +bustling, and pacing up and down. Gaslights glared from butchers' +stalls, illuminating the lumps of flesh to splotches of orange and +vermilion, like the wild colouring of Turner's later pictures, +whilst the purl and babble of tongues of every pitch and mood was +to this human wild-wood what the ripple of a brook is to the +natural forest. + +Nearly ten minutes passed. Then Knight also came to the window. + +'Well, now, I call a cab and vanish down the street in the +direction of Berkeley Square,' he said, buttoning his waistcoat +and kicking his morning suit into a corner. Stephen rose to +leave. + +'What a heap of literature!' remarked the young man, taking a +final longing survey round the room, as if to abide there for ever +would be the great pleasure of his life, yet feeling that he had +almost outstayed his welcome-while. His eyes rested upon an arm- +chair piled full of newspapers, magazines, and bright new volumes +in green and red. + +'Yes,' said Knight, also looking at them and breathing a sigh of +weariness; 'something must be done with several of them soon, I +suppose. Stephen, you needn't hurry away for a few minutes, you +know, if you want to stay; I am not quite ready. Overhaul those +volumes whilst I put on my coat, and I'll walk a little way with +you.' + +Stephen sat down beside the arm-chair and began to tumble the +books about. Among the rest he found a novelette in one volume, +THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE. By Ernest Field. + +'Are you going to review this?' inquired Stephen with apparent +unconcern, and holding up Elfride's effusion. + +'Which? Oh, that! I may--though I don't do much light reviewing +now. But it is reviewable.' + +'How do you mean?' + +Knight never liked to be asked what he meant. 'Mean! I mean that +the majority of books published are neither good enough nor bad +enough to provoke criticism, and that that book does provoke it.' + +'By its goodness or its badness?' Stephen said with some anxiety +on poor little Elfride's score. + +'Its badness. It seems to be written by some girl in her teens.' + +Stephen said not another word. He did not care to speak plainly +of Elfride after that unfortunate slip his tongue had made in +respect of her having committed herself; and, apart from that, +Knight's severe--almost dogged and self-willed--honesty in +criticizing was unassailable by the humble wish of a youthful +friend like Stephen. + +Knight was now ready. Turning off the gas, and slamming together +the door, they went downstairs and into the street. + + + +Chapter XIV + +'We frolic while 'tis May.' + + +It has now to be realized that nearly three-quarters of a year +have passed away. In place of the autumnal scenery which formed a +setting to the previous enactments, we have the culminating blooms +of summer in the year following. + +Stephen is in India, slaving away at an office in Bombay; +occasionally going up the country on professional errands, and +wondering why people who had been there longer than he complained +so much of the effect of the climate upon their constitutions. +Never had a young man a finer start than seemed now to present +itself to Stephen. It was just in that exceptional heyday of +prosperity which shone over Bombay some few years ago, that he +arrived on the scene. Building and engineering partook of the +general impetus. Speculation moved with an accelerated velocity +every successive day, the only disagreeable contingency connected +with it being the possibility of a collapse. + +Elfride had never told her father of the four-and-twenty-hours' +escapade with Stephen, nor had it, to her knowledge, come to his +ears by any other route. It was a secret trouble and grief to the +girl for a short time, and Stephen's departure was another +ingredient in her sorrow. But Elfride possessed special +facilities for getting rid of trouble after a decent interval. +Whilst a slow nature was imbibing a misfortune little by little, +she had swallowed the whole agony of it at a draught and was +brightening again. She could slough off a sadness and replace it +by a hope as easily as a lizard renews a diseased limb. + +And two such excellent distractions had presented themselves. One +was bringing out the romance and looking for notices in the +papers, which, though they had been significantly short so far, +had served to divert her thoughts. The other was migrating from +the vicarage to the more commodious old house of Mrs. Swancourt's, +overlooking the same valley. Mr. Swancourt at first disliked the +idea of being transplanted to feminine soil, but the obvious +advantages of such an accession of dignity reconciled him to the +change. So there was a radical 'move;' the two ladies staying at +Torquay as had been arranged, the vicar going to and fro. + +Mrs. Swancourt considerably enlarged Elfride's ideas in an +aristocratic direction, and she began to forgive her father for +his politic marriage. Certainly, in a worldly sense, a handsome +face at three-and-forty had never served a man in better stead. + + +The new house at Kensington was ready, and they were all in town. + +The Hyde Park shrubs had been transplanted as usual, the chairs +ranked in line, the grass edgings trimmed, the roads made to look +as if they were suffering from a heavy thunderstorm; carriages had +been called for by the easeful, horses by the brisk, and the Drive +and Row were again the groove of gaiety for an hour. We gaze upon +the spectacle, at six o'clock on this midsummer afternoon, in a +melon-frame atmosphere and beneath a violet sky. The Swancourt +equipage formed one in the stream. + +Mrs. Swancourt was a talker of talk of the incisive kind, which +her low musical voice--the only beautiful point in the old woman-- +prevented from being wearisome. + +'Now,' she said to Elfride, who, like AEneas at Carthage, was full +of admiration for the brilliant scene, 'you will find that our +companionless state will give us, as it does everybody, an +extraordinary power in reading the features of our fellow- +creatures here. I always am a listener in such places as these-- +not to the narratives told by my neighbours' tongues, but by their +faces--the advantage of which is, that whether I am in Row, +Boulevard, Rialto, or Prado, they all speak the same language. I +may have acquired some skill in this practice through having been +an ugly lonely woman for so many years, with nobody to give me +information; a thing you will not consider strange when the +parallel case is borne in mind,--how truly people who have no +clocks will tell the time of day.' + +'Ay, that they will,' said Mr. Swancourt corroboratively. 'I have +known labouring men at Endelstow and other farms who had framed +complete systems of observation for that purpose. By means of +shadows, winds, clouds, the movements of sheep and oxen, the +singing of birds, the crowing of cocks, and a hundred other sights +and sounds which people with watches in their pockets never know +the existence of, they are able to pronounce within ten minutes of +the hour almost at any required instant. That reminds me of an +old story which I'm afraid is too bad--too bad to repeat.' Here +the vicar shook his head and laughed inwardly. + +'Tell it--do!' said the ladies. + +'I mustn't quite tell it.' + +'That's absurd,' said Mrs. Swancourt. + +'It was only about a man who, by the same careful system of +observation, was known to deceive persons for more than two years +into the belief that he kept a barometer by stealth, so exactly +did he foretell all changes in the weather by the braying of his +ass and the temper of his wife.' + +Elfride laughed. + +'Exactly,' said Mrs. Swancourt. 'And in just the way that those +learnt the signs of nature, I have learnt the language of her +illegitimate sister--artificiality; and the fibbing of eyes, the +contempt of nose-tips, the indignation of back hair, the laughter +of clothes, the cynicism of footsteps, and the various emotions +lying in walking-stick twirls, hat-liftings, the elevation of +parasols, the carriage of umbrellas, become as A B C to me. + +'Just look at that daughter's sister class of mamma in the +carriage across there,' she continued to Elfride, pointing with +merely a turn of her eye. 'The absorbing self-consciousness of +her position that is shown by her countenance is most humiliating +to a lover of one's country. You would hardly believe, would you, +that members of a Fashionable World, whose professed zero is far +above the highest degree of the humble, could be so ignorant of +the elementary instincts of reticence.' + +'How?' + +'Why, to bear on their faces, as plainly as on a phylactery, the +inscription, "Do, pray, look at the coronet on my panels."' + +'Really, Charlotte,' said the vicar, 'you see as much in faces as +Mr. Puff saw in Lord Burleigh's nod.' + +Elfride could not but admire the beauty of her fellow +countrywomen, especially since herself and her own few +acquaintances had always been slightly sunburnt or marked on the +back of the hands by a bramble-scratch at this time of the year. + +'And what lovely flowers and leaves they wear in their bonnets!' +she exclaimed. + +'Oh yes,' returned Mrs. Swancourt. 'Some of them are even more +striking in colour than any real ones. Look at that beautiful +rose worn by the lady inside the rails. Elegant vine-tendrils +introduced upon the stem as an improvement upon prickles, and all +growing so naturally just over her ear--I say growing advisedly, +for the pink of the petals and the pink of her handsome cheeks are +equally from Nature's hand to the eyes of the most casual +observer.' + +'But praise them a little, they do deserve it!' said generous +Elfride. + +'Well, I do. See how the Duchess of----waves to and fro in her +seat, utilizing the sway of her landau by looking around only when +her head is swung forward, with a passive pride which forbids a +resistance to the force of circumstance. Look at the pretty pout +on the mouths of that family there, retaining no traces of being +arranged beforehand, so well is it done. Look at the demure close +of the little fists holding the parasols; the tiny alert thumb, +sticking up erect against the ivory stem as knowing as can be, the +satin of the parasol invariably matching the complexion of the +face beneath it, yet seemingly by an accident, which makes the +thing so attractive. There's the red book lying on the opposite +seat, bespeaking the vast numbers of their acquaintance. And I +particularly admire the aspect of that abundantly daughtered woman +on the other side--I mean her look of unconsciousness that the +girls are stared at by the walkers, and above all the look of the +girls themselves--losing their gaze in the depths of handsome +men's eyes without appearing to notice whether they are observing +masculine eyes or the leaves of the trees. There's praise for +you. But I am only jesting, child--you know that.' + +'Piph-ph-ph--how warm it is, to be sure!' said Mr. Swancourt, as +if his mind were a long distance from all he saw. 'I declare that +my watch is so hot that I can scarcely bear to touch it to see +what the time is, and all the world smells like the inside of a +hat.' + +'How the men stare at you, Elfride!' said the elder lady. 'You +will kill me quite, I am afraid.' + +'Kill you?' + +'As a diamond kills an opal in the same setting.' + +'I have noticed several ladies and gentlemen looking at me,' said +Elfride artlessly, showing her pleasure at being observed. + +'My dear, you mustn't say "gentlemen" nowadays,' her stepmother +answered in the tones of arch concern that so well became her +ugliness. 'We have handed over "gentlemen" to the lower middle +class, where the word is still to be heard at tradesmen's balls +and provincial tea-parties, I believe. It is done with here.' + +'What must I say, then?' + +'"Ladies and MEN" always.' + +At this moment appeared in the stream of vehicles moving in the +contrary direction a chariot presenting in its general surface the +rich indigo hue of a midnight sky, the wheels and margins being +picked out in delicate lines of ultramarine; the servants' +liveries were dark-blue coats and silver lace, and breeches of +neutral Indian red. The whole concern formed an organic whole, +and moved along behind a pair of dark chestnut geldings, who +advanced in an indifferently zealous trot, very daintily +performed, and occasionally shrugged divers points of their veiny +surface as if they were rather above the business. + +In this sat a gentleman with no decided characteristics more than +that he somewhat resembled a good-natured commercial traveller of +the superior class. Beside him was a lady with skim-milky eyes +and complexion, belonging to the "interesting" class of women, +where that class merges in the sickly, her greatest pleasure being +apparently to enjoy nothing. Opposite this pair sat two little +girls in white hats and blue feathers. + +The lady saw Elfride, smiled and bowed, and touched her husband's +elbow, who turned and received Elfride's movement of recognition +with a gallant elevation of his hat. Then the two children held +up their arms to Elfride, and laughed gleefully. + +'Who is that?' + +'Why, Lord Luxellian, isn't it?' said Mrs. Swancourt, who with the +vicar had been seated with her back towards them. + +'Yes,' replied Elfride. 'He is the one man of those I have seen +here whom I consider handsomer than papa.' + +'Thank you, dear,' said Mr. Swancourt. + +'Yes; but your father is so much older. When Lord Luxellian gets +a little further on in life, he won't be half so good-looking as +our man.' + +'Thank you, dear, likewise,' said Mr. Swancourt. + +'See,' exclaimed Elfride, still looking towards them, 'how those +little dears want me! Actually one of them is crying for me to +come.' + +'We were talking of bracelets just now. Look at Lady +Luxellian's,' said Mrs. Swancourt, as that baroness lifted up her +arm to support one of the children. 'It is slipping up her arm-- +too large by half. I hate to see daylight between a bracelet and +a wrist; I wonder women haven't better taste.' + +'It is not on that account, indeed,' Elfride expostulated. 'It is +that her arm has got thin, poor thing. You cannot think how much +she has altered in this last twelvemonth.' + +The carriages were now nearer together, and there was an exchange +of more familiar greetings between the two families. Then the +Luxellians crossed over and drew up under the plane-trees, just in +the rear of the Swancourts. Lord Luxellian alighted, and came +forward with a musical laugh. + +It was his attraction as a man. People liked him for those tones, +and forgot that he had no talents. Acquaintances remembered Mr. +Swancourt by his manner; they remembered Stephen Smith by his +face, Lord Luxellian by his laugh. + +Mr. Swancourt made some friendly remarks--among others things upon +the heat. + +'Yes,' said Lord Luxellian, 'we were driving by a furrier's window +this afternoon, and the sight filled us all with such a sense of +suffocation that we were glad to get away. Ha-ha!' He turned to +Elfride. 'Miss Swancourt, I have hardly seen or spoken to you +since your literary feat was made public. I had no idea a chiel +was taking notes down at quiet Endelstow, or I should certainly +have put myself and friends upon our best behaviour. Swancourt, +why didn't you give me a hint!' + +Elfride fluttered, blushed, laughed, said it was nothing to speak +of, &c. &c. + +'Well, I think you were rather unfairly treated by the PRESENT, I +certainly do. Writing a heavy review like that upon an elegant +trifle like the COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE was absurd.' + +'What?' said Elfride, opening her eyes. 'Was I reviewed in the +PRESENT?' + +'Oh yes; didn't you see it? Why, it was four or five months ago!' + +'No, I never saw it. How sorry I am! What a shame of my +publishers! They promised to send me every notice that appeared.' + +'Ah, then, I am almost afraid I have been giving you disagreeable +information, intentionally withheld out of courtesy. Depend upon +it they thought no good would come of sending it, and so would not +pain you unnecessarily.' + +'Oh no; I am indeed glad you have told me, Lord Luxellian. It is +quite a mistaken kindness on their part. Is the review so much +against me?' she inquired tremulously. + +'No, no; not that exactly--though I almost forget its exact +purport now. It was merely--merely sharp, you know--ungenerous, I +might say. But really my memory does not enable me to speak +decidedly.' + +'We'll drive to the PRESENT office, and get one directly; shall +we, papa?' + +'If you are so anxious, dear, we will, or send. But to-morrow +will do.' + +'And do oblige me in a little matter now, Elfride,' said Lord +Luxellian warmly, and looking as if he were sorry he had brought +news that disturbed her. 'I am in reality sent here as a special +messenger by my little Polly and Katie to ask you to come into our +carriage with them for a short time. I am just going to walk +across into Piccadilly, and my wife is left alone with them. I am +afraid they are rather spoilt children; but I have half promised +them you shall come.' + +The steps were let down, and Elfride was transferred--to the +intense delight of the little girls, and to the mild interest of +loungers with red skins and long necks, who cursorily eyed the +performance with their walking-sticks to their lips, occasionally +laughing from far down their throats and with their eyes, their +mouths not being concerned in the operation at all. Lord +Luxellian then told the coachman to drive on, lifted his hat, +smiled a smile that missed its mark and alighted on a total +stranger, who bowed in bewilderment. Lord Luxellian looked long +at Elfride. + +The look was a manly, open, and genuine look of admiration; a +momentary tribute of a kind which any honest Englishman might have +paid to fairness without being ashamed of the feeling, or +permitting it to encroach in the slightest degree upon his +emotional obligations as a husband and head of a family. Then +Lord Luxellian turned away, and walked musingly to the upper end +of the promenade. + +Mr. Swancourt had alighted at the same time with Elfride, crossing +over to the Row for a few minutes to speak to a friend he +recognized there; and his wife was thus left sole tenant of the +carriage. + +Now, whilst this little act had been in course of performance, +there stood among the promenading spectators a man of somewhat +different description from the rest. Behind the general throng, in +the rear of the chairs, and leaning against the trunk of a tree, +he looked at Elfride with quiet and critical interest. + +Three points about this unobtrusive person showed promptly to the +exercised eye that he was not a Row man pur sang. First, an +irrepressible wrinkle or two in the waist of his frock-coat-- +denoting that he had not damned his tailor sufficiently to drive +that tradesman up to the orthodox high pressure of cunning +workmanship. Second, a slight slovenliness of umbrella, +occasioned by its owner's habit of resting heavily upon it, and +using it as a veritable walking-stick, instead of letting its +point touch the ground in the most coquettish of kisses, as is the +proper Row manner to do. Third, and chief reason, that try how +you might, you could scarcely help supposing, on looking at his +face, that your eyes were not far from a well-finished mind, +instead of the well-finished skin et praeterea nihil, which is by +rights the Mark of the Row. + +The probability is that, had not Mrs. Swancourt been left alone in +her carriage under the tree, this man would have remained in his +unobserved seclusion. But seeing her thus, he came round to the +front, stooped under the rail, and stood beside the carriage-door. + +Mrs. Swancourt looked reflectively at him for a quarter of a +minute, then held out her hand laughingly: + +'Why, Henry Knight--of course it is! My--second--third--fourth +cousin--what shall I say? At any rate, my kinsman.' + +'Yes, one of a remnant not yet cut off. I scarcely was certain of +you, either, from where I was standing.' + +'I have not seen you since you first went to Oxford; consider the +number of years! You know, I suppose, of my marriage?' + +And there sprang up a dialogue concerning family matters of birth, +death, and marriage, which it is not necessary to detail. Knight +presently inquired: + +'The young lady who changed into the other carriage is, then, your +stepdaughter?' + +'Yes, Elfride. You must know her.' + +'And who was the lady in the carriage Elfride entered; who had an +ill-defined and watery look, as if she were only the reflection of +herself in a pool?' + +'Lady Luxellian; very weakly, Elfride says. My husband is +remotely connected with them; but there is not much intimacy on +account of----. However, Henry, you'll come and see us, of +course. 24 Chevron Square. Come this week. We shall only be in +town a week or two longer.' + +'Let me see. I've got to run up to Oxford to-morrow, where I +shall be for several days; so that I must, I fear, lose the +pleasure of seeing you in London this year.' + +'Then come to Endelstow; why not return with us?' + +'I am afraid if I were to come before August I should have to +leave again in a day or two. I should be delighted to be with you +at the beginning of that month; and I could stay a nice long time. +I have thought of going westward all the summer.' + +'Very well. Now remember that's a compact. And won't you wait +now and see Mr. Swancourt? He will not be away ten minutes +longer.' + +'No; I'll beg to be excused; for I must get to my chambers again +this evening before I go home; indeed, I ought to have been there +now--I have such a press of matters to attend to just at present. +You will explain to him, please. Good-bye.' + +'And let us know the day of your appearance as soon as you can.' + +'I will' + + + +Chapter XV + +'A wandering voice.' + + +Though sheer and intelligible griefs are not charmed away by being +confided to mere acquaintances, the process is a palliative to +certain ill-humours. Among these, perplexed vexation is one--a +species of trouble which, like a stream, gets shallower by the +simple operation of widening it in any quarter. + +On the evening of the day succeeding that of the meeting in the +Park, Elfride and Mrs. Swancourt were engaged in conversation in +the dressing-room of the latter. Such a treatment of such a case +was in course of adoption here. + +Elfride had just before received an affectionate letter from +Stephen Smith in Bombay, which had been forwarded to her from +Endelstow. But since this is not the case referred to, it is not +worth while to pry further into the contents of the letter than to +discover that, with rash though pardonable confidence in coming +times, he addressed her in high spirits as his darling future +wife. Probably there cannot be instanced a briefer and surer rule- +of-thumb test of a man's temperament--sanguine or cautious--than +this: did he or does he ante-date the word wife in corresponding +with a sweet-heart he honestly loves? + +She had taken this epistle into her own room, read a little of it, +then SAVED the rest for to-morrow, not wishing to be so +extravagant as to consume the pleasure all at once. Nevertheless, +she could not resist the wish to enjoy yet a little more, so out +came the letter again, and in spite of misgivings as to +prodigality the whole was devoured. The letter was finally +reperused and placed in her pocket. + +What was this? Also a newspaper for Elfride, which she had +overlooked in her hurry to open the letter. It was the old number +of the PRESENT, containing the article upon her book, forwarded as +had been requested. + +Elfride had hastily read it through, shrunk perceptibly smaller, +and had then gone with the paper in her hand to Mrs. Swancourt's +dressing-room, to lighten or at least modify her vexation by a +discriminating estimate from her stepmother. + +She was now looking disconsolately out of the window. + +'Never mind, my child,' said Mrs. Swancourt after a careful +perusal of the matter indicated. 'I don't see that the review is +such a terrible one, after all. Besides, everybody has forgotten +about it by this time. I'm sure the opening is good enough for +any book ever written. Just listen--it sounds better read aloud +than when you pore over it silently: "THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE. +A ROMANCE OF THE MIDDLE AGES. BY ERNEST FIELD. In the belief +that we were for a while escaping the monotonous repetition of +wearisome details in modern social scenery, analyses of +uninteresting character, or the unnatural unfoldings of a +sensation plot, we took this volume into our hands with a feeling +of pleasure. We were disposed to beguile ourselves with the fancy +that some new change might possibly be rung upon donjon keeps, +chain and plate armour, deeply scarred cheeks, tender maidens +disguised as pages, to which we had not listened long ago." Now, +that's a very good beginning, in my opinion, and one to be proud +of having brought out of a man who has never seen you.' + +'Ah, yes,' murmured Elfride wofully. 'But, then, see further on!' + +'Well the next bit is rather unkind, I must own,' said Mrs. +Swancourt, and read on. '"Instead of this we found ourselves in +the hands of some young lady, hardly arrived at years of +discretion, to judge by the silly device it has been thought worth +while to adopt on the title-page, with the idea of disguising her +sex."' + +'I am not "silly"!' said Elfride indignantly. 'He might have +called me anything but that.' + +'You are not, indeed. Well:--"Hands of a young lady...whose +chapters are simply devoted to impossible tournaments, towers, and +escapades, which read like flat copies of like scenes in the +stories of Mr. G. P. R. James, and the most unreal portions of +IVANHOE. The bait is so palpably artificial that the most +credulous gudgeon turns away." Now, my dear, I don't see overmuch +to complain of in that. It proves that you were clever enough to +make him think of Sir Walter Scott, which is a great deal.' + +'Oh yes; though I cannot romance myself, I am able to remind him +of those who can!' Elfride intended to hurl these words +sarcastically at her invisible enemy, but as she had no more +satirical power than a wood-pigeon, they merely fell in a pretty +murmur from lips shaped to a pout. + +'Certainly: and that's something. Your book is good enough to be +bad in an ordinary literary manner, and doesn't stand by itself in +a melancholy position altogether worse than assailable.--"That +interest in an historical romance may nowadays have any chance of +being sustained, it is indispensable that the reader find himself +under the guidance of some nearly extinct species of legendary, +who, in addition to an impulse towards antiquarian research and an +unweakened faith in the mediaeval halo, shall possess an inventive +faculty in which delicacy of sentiment is far overtopped by a +power of welding to stirring incident a spirited variety of the +elementary human passions." Well, that long-winded effusion +doesn't refer to you at all, Elfride, merely something put in to +fill up. Let me see, when does he come to you again;...not till +the very end, actually. Here you are finally polished off: + +'"But to return to the little work we have used as the text of +this article. We are far from altogether disparaging the author's +powers. She has a certain versatility that enables her to use +with effect a style of narration peculiar to herself, which may be +called a murmuring of delicate emotional trifles, the particular +gift of those to whom the social sympathies of a peaceful time are +as daily food. Hence, where matters of domestic experience, and +the natural touches which make people real, can be introduced +without anachronisms too striking, she is occasionally felicitous; +and upon the whole we feel justified in saying that the book will +bear looking into for the sake of those portions which have +nothing whatever to do with the story." + +'Well, I suppose it is intended for satire; but don't think +anything more of it now, my dear. It is seven o'clock.' And Mrs. +Swancourt rang for her maid. + +Attack is more piquant than concord. Stephen's letter was +concerning nothing but oneness with her: the review was the very +reverse. And a stranger with neither name nor shape, age nor +appearance, but a mighty voice, is naturally rather an interesting +novelty to a lady he chooses to address. When Elfride fell asleep +that night she was loving the writer of the letter, but thinking +of the writer of that article. + + + +Chapter XVI + +'Then fancy shapes--as fancy can.' + + +On a day about three weeks later, the Swancourt trio were sitting +quietly in the drawing-room of The Crags, Mrs. Swancourt's house +at Endelstow, chatting, and taking easeful survey of their +previous month or two of town--a tangible weariness even to people +whose acquaintances there might be counted on the fingers. + +A mere season in London with her practised step-mother had so +advanced Elfride's perceptions, that her courtship by Stephen +seemed emotionally meagre, and to have drifted back several years +into a childish past. In regarding our mental experiences, as in +visual observation, our own progress reads like a dwindling of +that we progress from. + +She was seated on a low chair, looking over her romance with +melancholy interest for the first time since she had become +acquainted with the remarks of the PRESENT thereupon. + +'Still thinking of that reviewer, Elfie?' + +'Not of him personally; but I am thinking of his opinion. Really, +on looking into the volume after this long time has elapsed, he +seems to have estimated one part of it fairly enough.' + +'No, no; I wouldn't show the white feather now! Fancy that of all +people in the world the writer herself should go over to the +enemy. How shall Monmouth's men fight when Monmouth runs away?' + +'I don't do that. But I think he is right in some of his +arguments, though wrong in others. And because he has some claim +to my respect I regret all the more that he should think so +mistakenly of my motives in one or two instances. It is more +vexing to be misunderstood than to be misrepresented; and he +misunderstands me. I cannot be easy whilst a person goes to rest +night after night attributing to me intentions I never had.' + +'He doesn't know your name, or anything about you. And he has +doubtless forgotten there is such a book in existence by this +time.' + +'I myself should certainly like him to be put right upon one or +two matters,' said the vicar, who had hitherto been silent. 'You +see, critics go on writing, and are never corrected or argued +with, and therefore are never improved.' + +'Papa,' said Elfride brightening, 'write to him!' + +'I would as soon write to him as look at him, for the matter of +that,' said Mr. Swancourt. + +'Do! And say, the young person who wrote the book did not adopt a +masculine pseudonym in vanity or conceit, but because she was +afraid it would be thought presumptuous to publish her name, and +that she did not mean the story for such as he, but as a sweetener +of history for young people, who might thereby acquire a taste for +what went on in their own country hundreds of years ago, and be +tempted to dive deeper into the subject. Oh, there is so much to +explain; I wish I might write myself!' + +'Now, Elfie, I'll tell you what we will do,' answered Mr. +Swancourt, tickled with a sort of bucolic humour at the idea of +criticizing the critic. 'You shall write a clear account of what +he is wrong in, and I will copy it and send it as mine.' + +'Yes, now, directly!' said Elfride, jumping up. 'When will you +send it, papa? ' + +'Oh, in a day or two, I suppose,' he returned. Then the vicar +paused and slightly yawned, and in the manner of elderly people +began to cool from his ardour for the undertaking now that it came +to the point. 'But, really, it is hardly worth while,' he said. + +'O papa!' said Elfride, with much disappointment. 'You said you +would, and now you won't. That is not fair!' + +'But how can we send it if we don't know whom to send it to?' + +'If you really want to send such a thing it can easily be done,' +said Mrs. Swancourt, coming to her step-daughter's rescue. 'An +envelope addressed, "To the Critic of THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE, +care of the Editor of the PRESENT," would find him.' + +'Yes, I suppose it would.' + +'Why not write your answer yourself, Elfride?' Mrs. Swancourt +inquired. + +'I might,' she said hesitatingly; 'and send it anonymously: that +would be treating him as he has treated me.' + +'No use in the world!' + +'But I don't like to let him know my exact name. Suppose I put my +initials only? The less you are known the more you are thought +of.' + +'Yes; you might do that.' + +Elfride set to work there and then. Her one desire for the last +fortnight seemed likely to be realized. As happens with sensitive +and secluded minds, a continual dwelling upon the subject had +magnified to colossal proportions the space she assumed herself to +occupy or to have occupied in the occult critic's mind. At noon +and at night she had been pestering herself with endeavours to +perceive more distinctly his conception of her as a woman apart +from an author: whether he really despised her; whether he thought +more or less of her than of ordinary young women who never +ventured into the fire of criticism at all. Now she would have +the satisfaction of feeling that at any rate he knew her true +intent in crossing his path, and annoying him so by her +performance, and be taught perhaps to despise it a little less. + +Four days later an envelope, directed to Miss Swancourt in a +strange hand, made its appearance from the post-bag. + +'0h,' said Elfride, her heart sinking within her. 'Can it be from +that man--a lecture for impertinence? And actually one for Mrs. +Swancourt in the same hand-writing!' She feared to open hers. +'Yet how can he know my name? No; it is somebody else.' + +'Nonsense!' said her father grimly. 'You sent your initials, and +the Directory was available. Though he wouldn't have taken the +trouble to look there unless he had been thoroughly savage with +you. I thought you wrote with rather more asperity than simple +literary discussion required.' This timely clause was introduced +to save the character of the vicar's judgment under any issue of +affairs. + +'Well, here I go,' said Elfride, desperately tearing open the +seal. + +'To be sure, of course,' exclaimed Mrs. Swancourt; and looking up +from her own letter. 'Christopher, I quite forgot to tell you, +when I mentioned that I had seen my distant relative, Harry +Knight, that I invited him here for whatever length of time he +could spare. And now he says he can come any day in August.' + +'Write, and say the first of the month,' replied the +indiscriminate vicar. + +She read om 'Goodness me--and that isn't all. He is actually the +reviewer of Elfride's book. How absurd, to be sure! I had no idea +he reviewed novels or had anything to do with the PRESENT. He is +a barrister--and I thought he only wrote in the Quarterlies. Why, +Elfride, you have brought about an odd entanglement! What does he +say to you?' + +Elfride had put down her letter with a dissatisfied flush on her +face. 'I don't know. The idea of his knowing my name and all +about me!...Why, he says nothing particular, only this-- + + +'"MY DEAR MADAM,--Though I am sorry that my remarks should have +seemed harsh to you, it is a pleasure to find that they have been +the means of bringing forth such an ingeniously argued reply. +Unfortunately, it is so long since I wrote my review, that my +memory does not serve me sufficiently to say a single word in my +defence, even supposing there remains one to be said, which is +doubtful. You, will find from a letter I have written to Mrs. +Swancourt, that we are not such strangers to each other as we have +been imagining. Possibly, I may have the pleasure of seeing you +soon, when any argument you choose to advance shall receive all +the attention it deserves." + + +'That is dim sarcasm--I know it is.' + +'Oh no, Elfride.' + +'And then, his remarks didn't seem harsh--I mean I did not say +so.' + +'He thinks you are in a frightful temper,' said Mr. Swancourt, +chuckling in undertones. + +'And he will come and see me, and find the authoress as +contemptible in speech as she has been impertinent in manner. I +do heartily wish I had never written a word to him!' + +'Never mind,' said Mrs. Swancourt, also laughing in low quiet +jerks; 'it will make the meeting such a comical affair, and afford +splendid by-play for your father and myself. The idea of our +running our heads against Harry Knight all the time! I cannot get +over that.' + +The vicar had immediately remembered the name to be that of +Stephen Smith's preceptor and friend; but having ceased to concern +himself in the matter he made no remark to that effect, +consistently forbearing to allude to anything which could restore +recollection of the (to him) disagreeable mistake with regard to +poor Stephen's lineage and position. Elfride had of course +perceived the same thing, which added to the complication of +relationship a mesh that her stepmother knew nothing of. + +The identification scarcely heightened Knight's attractions now, +though a twelvemonth ago she would only have cared to see him for +the interest he possessed as Stephen's friend. Fortunately for +Knight's advent, such a reason for welcome had only begun to be +awkward to her at a time when the interest he had acquired on his +own account made it no longer necessary. + + +These coincidences, in common with all relating to him, tended to +keep Elfride's mind upon the stretch concerning Knight. As was +her custom when upon the horns of a dilemma, she walked off by +herself among the laurel bushes, and there, standing still and +splitting up a leaf without removing it from its stalk, fetched +back recollections of Stephen's frequent words in praise of his +friend, and wished she had listened more attentively. Then, still +pulling the leaf, she would blush at some fancied mortification +that would accrue to her from his words when they met, in +consequence of her intrusiveness, as she now considered it, in +writing to him. + +The next development of her meditations was the subject of what +this man's personal appearance might be--was he tall or short, +dark or fair, gay or grim? She would have asked Mrs. Swancourt but +for the risk she might thereby incur of some teasing remark being +returned. Ultimately Elfride would say, 'Oh, what a plague that +reviewer is to me!' and turn her face to where she imagined India +lay, and murmur to herself, 'Ah, my little husband, what are you +doing now? Let me see, where are you--south, east, where? Behind +that hill, ever so far behind!' + + + +Chapter XVII + +'Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase.' + + +'There is Henry Knight, I declare!' said Mrs. Swancourt one day. + +They were gazing from the jutting angle of a wild enclosure not +far from The Crags, which almost overhung the valley already +described as leading up from the sea and little port of Castle +Boterel. The stony escarpment upon which they stood had the +contour of a man's face, and it was covered with furze as with a +beard. People in the field above were preserved from an +accidental roll down these prominences and hollows by a hedge on +the very crest, which was doing that kindly service for Elfride +and her mother now. + +Scrambling higher into the hedge and stretching her neck further +over the furze, Elfride beheld the individual signified. He was +walking leisurely along the little green path at the bottom, +beside the stream, a satchel slung upon his left hip, a stout +walking-stick in his hand, and a brown-holland sun-hat upon his +head. The satchel was worn and old, and the outer polished +surface of the leather was cracked and peeling off. + +Knight having arrived over the hills to Castle Boterel upon the +top of a crazy omnibus, preferred to walk the remaining two miles +up the valley, leaving his luggage to be brought on. + +Behind him wandered, helter-skelter, a boy of whom Knight had +briefly inquired the way to Endelstow; and by that natural law of +physics which causes lesser bodies to gravitate towards the +greater, this boy had kept near to Knight, and trotted like a +little dog close at his heels, whistling as he went, with his eyes +fixed upon Knight's boots as they rose and fell. + +When they had reached a point precisely opposite that in which +Mrs. and Miss Swancourt lay in ambush, Knight stopped and turned +round. + +'Look here, my boy,' he said. + +The boy parted his lips, opened his eyes, and answered nothing. + +'Here's sixpence for you, on condition that you don't again come +within twenty yards of my heels, all the way up the valley.' + +The boy, who apparently had not known he had been looking at +Knight's heels at all, took the sixpence mechanically, and Knight +went on again, wrapt in meditation. + +'A nice voice,' Elfride thought; 'but what a singular temper!' + +'Now we must get indoors before he ascends the slope,' said Mrs. +Swancourt softly. And they went across by a short cut over a +stile, entering the lawn by a side door, and so on to the house. + +Mr. Swancourt had gone into the village with the curate, and +Elfride felt too nervous to await their visitor's arrival in the +drawing-room with Mrs. Swancourt. So that when the elder lady +entered, Elfride made some pretence of perceiving a new variety of +crimson geranium, and lingered behind among the flower beds. + +There was nothing gained by this, after all, she thought; and a +few minutes after boldly came into the house by the glass side- +door. She walked along the corridor, and entered the drawing- +room. Nobody was there. + +A window at the angle of the room opened directly into an +octagonal conservatory, enclosing the corner of the building. +From the conservatory came voices in conversation--Mrs. +Swancourt's and the stranger's. + +She had expected him to talk brilliantly. To her surprise he was +asking questions in quite a learner's manner, on subjects +connected with the flowers and shrubs that she had known for +years. When after the lapse of a few minutes he spoke at some +length, she considered there was a hard square decisiveness in the +shape of his sentences, as if, unlike her own and Stephen's, they +were not there and then newly constructed, but were drawn forth +from a large store ready-made. They were now approaching the +window to come in again. + +'That is a flesh-coloured variety,' said Mrs. Swancourt. 'But +oleanders, though they are such bulky shrubs, are so very easily +wounded as to be unprunable--giants with the sensitiveness of +young ladies. Oh, here is Elfride!' + +Elfride looked as guilty and crestfallen as Lady Teazle at the +dropping of the screen. Mrs. Swancourt presented him half +comically, and Knight in a minute or two placed himself beside the +young lady. + +A complexity of instincts checked Elfride's conventional smiles of +complaisance and hospitality; and, to make her still less +comfortable, Mrs. Swancourt immediately afterwards left them +together to seek her husband. Mr. Knight, however, did not seem +at all incommoded by his feelings, and he said with light +easefulness: + +'So, Miss Swancourt, I have met you at last. You escaped me by a +few minutes only when we were in London.' + +'Yes. I found that you had seen Mrs. Swancourt.' + +'And now reviewer and reviewed are face to face,' he added +unconcernedly. + +'Yes: though the fact of your being a relation of Mrs. Swancourt's +takes off the edge of it. It was strange that you should be one +of her family all the time.' Elfride began to recover herself now, +and to look into Knight's face. 'I was merely anxious to let you +know my REAL meaning in writing the book--extremely anxious.' + +'I can quite understand the wish; and I was gratified that my +remarks should have reached home. They very seldom do, I am +afraid.' + +Elfride drew herself in. Here he was, sticking to his opinions as +firmly as if friendship and politeness did not in the least +require an immediate renunciation of them. + +'You made me very uneasy and sorry by writing such things!' she +murmured, suddenly dropping the mere cacueterie of a fashionable +first introduction, and speaking with some of the dudgeon of a +child towards a severe schoolmaster. + +'That is rather the object of honest critics in such a case. Not +to cause unnecessary sorrow, but: "To make you sorry after a +proper manner, that ye may receive damage by us in nothing," as a +powerful pen once wrote to the Gentiles. Are you going to write +another romance?' + +'Write another?' she said. 'That somebody may pen a condemnation +and "nail't wi' Scripture" again, as you do now, Mr. Knight?' + +'You may do better next time,' he said placidly: 'I think you +will. But I would advise you to confine yourself to domestic +scenes.' + +'Thank you. But never again!' + +'Well, you may be right. That a young woman has taken to writing +is not by any means the best thing to hear about her.' + +'What is the best?' + +'I prefer not to say.' + +'Do you know? Then, do tell me, please.' + +'Well'--(Knight was evidently changing his meaning)--'I suppose to +hear that she has married.' + +Elfride hesitated. 'And what when she has been married?' she said +at last, partly in order to withdraw her own person from the +argument. + +'Then to hear no more about her. It is as Smeaton said of his +lighthouse: her greatest real praise, when the novelty of her +inauguration has worn off, is that nothing happens to keep the +talk of her alive.' + +'Yes, I see,' said Elfride softly and thoughtfully. 'But of +course it is different quite with men. Why don't you write +novels, Mr. Knight?' + +'Because I couldn't write one that would interest anybody.' + +'Why?' + +'For several reasons. It requires a judicious omission of your +real thoughts to make a novel popular, for one thing.' + +'Is that really necessary? Well, I am sure you could learn to do +that with practice,' said Elfride with an ex-cathedra air, as +became a person who spoke from experience in the art. 'You would +make a great name for certain,' she continued. + +'So many people make a name nowadays, that it is more +distinguished to remain in obscurity.' + +'Tell me seriously--apart from the subject--why don't you write a +volume instead of loose articles?' she insisted. + +'Since you are pleased to make me talk of myself, I will tell you +seriously,' said Knight, not less amused at this catechism by his +young friend than he was interested in her appearance. 'As I have +implied, I have not the wish. And if I had the wish, I could not +now concentrate sufficiently. We all have only our one cruse of +energy given us to make the best of. And where that energy has +been leaked away week by week, quarter by quarter, as mine has for +the last nine or ten years, there is not enough dammed back behind +the mill at any given period to supply the force a complete book +on any subject requires. Then there is the self-confidence and +waiting power. Where quick results have grown customary, they are +fatal to a lively faith in the future.' + +'Yes, I comprehend; and so you choose to write in fragments?' + +'No, I don't choose to do it in the sense you mean; choosing from +a whole world of professions, all possible. It was by the +constraint of accident merely. Not that I object to the +accident.' + +'Why don't you object--I mean, why do you feel so quiet about +things?' Elfride was half afraid to question him so, but her +intense curiosity to see what the inside of literary Mr. Knight +was like, kept her going on. + +Knight certainly did not mind being frank with her. Instances of +this trait in men who are not without feeling, but are reticent +from habit, may be recalled by all of us. When they find a +listener who can by no possibility make use of them, rival them, +or condemn them, reserved and even suspicious men of the world +become frank, keenly enjoying the inner side of their frankness. + +'Why I don't mind the accidental constraint,' he replied, 'is +because, in making beginnings, a chance limitation of direction is +often better than absolute freedom.' + +'I see--that is, I should if I quite understood what all those +generalities mean.' + +'Why, this: That an arbitrary foundation for one's work, which no +length of thought can alter, leaves the attention free to fix +itself on the work itself, and make the best of it.' + +'Lateral compression forcing altitude, as would be said in that +tongue,' she said mischievously. 'And I suppose where no limit +exists, as in the case of a rich man with a wide taste who wants +to do something, it will be better to choose a limit capriciously +than to have none.' + +'Yes,' he said meditatively. 'I can go as far as that.' + +'Well,' resumed Elfride, 'I think it better for a man's nature if +he does nothing in particular.' + +'There is such a case as being obliged to.' + +'Yes, yes; I was speaking of when you are not obliged for any +other reason than delight in the prospect of fame. I have thought +many times lately that a thin widespread happiness, commencing +now, and of a piece with the days of your life, is preferable to +an anticipated heap far away in the future, and none now.' + +'Why, that's the very thing I said just now as being the principle +of all ephemeral doers like myself.' + +'Oh, I am sorry to have parodied you,' she said with some +confusion. 'Yes, of course. That is what you meant about not +trying to be famous.' And she added, with the quickness of +conviction characteristic of her mind: 'There is much littleness +in trying to be great. A man must think a good deal of himself, +and be conceited enough to believe in himself, before he tries at +all.' + +'But it is soon enough to say there is harm in a man's thinking a +good deal of himself when it is proved he has been thinking wrong, +and too soon then sometimes. Besides, we should not conclude that +a man who strives earnestly for success does so with a strong +sense of his own merit. He may see how little success has to do +with merit, and his motive may be his very humility.' + +This manner of treating her rather provoked Elfride. No sooner +did she agree with him than he ceased to seem to wish it, and took +the other side. 'Ah,' she thought inwardly, 'I shall have nothing +to do with a man of this kind, though he is our visitor.' + +'I think you will find,' resumed Knight, pursuing the conversation +more for the sake of finishing off his thoughts on the subject +than for engaging her attention, 'that in actual life it is merely +a matter of instinct with men--this trying to push on. They awake +to a recognition that they have, without premeditation, begun to +try a little, and they say to themselves, "Since I have tried thus +much, I will try a little more." They go on because they have +begun.' + +Elfride, in her turn, was not particularly attending to his words +at this moment. She had, unconsciously to herself, a way of +seizing any point in the remarks of an interlocutor which +interested her, and dwelling upon it, and thinking thoughts of her +own thereupon, totally oblivious of all that he might say in +continuation. On such occasions she artlessly surveyed the person +speaking; and then there was a time for a painter. Her eyes +seemed to look at you, and past you, as you were then, into your +future; and past your future into your eternity--not reading it, +but gazing in an unused, unconscious way--her mind still clinging +to its original thought. + +This is how she was looking at Knight. + +Suddenly Elfride became conscious of what she was doing, and was +painfully confused. + +'What were you so intent upon in me?' he inquired. + +'As far as I was thinking of you at all, I was thinking how clever +you are,' she said, with a want of premeditation that was +startling in its honesty and simplicity. + +Feeling restless now that she had so unwittingly spoken, she arose +and stepped to the window, having heard the voices of her father +and Mrs. Swancourt coming up below the terrace. 'Here they are,' +she said, going out. Knight walked out upon the lawn behind her. +She stood upon the edge of the terrace, close to the stone +balustrade, and looked towards the sun, hanging over a glade just +now fair as Tempe's vale, up which her father was walking. + +Knight could not help looking at her. The sun was within ten +degrees of the horizon, and its warm light flooded her face and +heightened the bright rose colour of her cheeks to a vermilion +red, their moderate pink hue being only seen in its natural tone +where the cheek curved round into shadow. The ends of her hanging +hair softly dragged themselves backwards and forwards upon her +shoulder as each faint breeze thrust against or relinquished it. +Fringes and ribbons of her dress, moved by the same breeze, licked +like tongues upon the parts around them, and fluttering forward +from shady folds caught likewise their share of the lustrous +orange glow. + +Mr. Swancourt shouted out a welcome to Knight from a distance of +about thirty yards, and after a few preliminary words proceeded to +a conversation of deep earnestness on Knight's fine old family +name, and theories as to lineage and intermarriage connected +therewith. Knight's portmanteau having in the meantime arrived, +they soon retired to prepare for dinner, which had been postponed +two hours later than the usual time of that meal. + +An arrival was an event in the life of Elfride, now that they were +again in the country, and that of Knight necessarily an engrossing +one. And that evening she went to bed for the first time without +thinking of Stephen at all. + + + +Chapter XVIII + +'He heard her musical pants.' + + +The old tower of West Endelstow Church had reached the last weeks +of its existence. It was to be replaced by a new one from the +designs of Mr. Hewby, the architect who had sent down Stephen. +Planks and poles had arrived in the churchyard, iron bars had been +thrust into the venerable crack extending down the belfry wall to +the foundation, the bells had been taken down, the owls had +forsaken this home of their forefathers, and six iconoclasts in +white fustian, to whom a cracked edifice was a species of Mumbo +Jumbo, had taken lodgings in the village previous to beginning the +actual removal of the stones. + +This was the day after Knight's arrival. To enjoy for the last +time the prospect seaward from the summit, the vicar, Mrs. +Swancourt, Knight, and Elfride, all ascended the winding turret-- +Mr. Swancourt stepping forward with many loud breaths, his wife +struggling along silently, but suffering none the less. They had +hardly reached the top when a large lurid cloud, palpably a +reservoir of rain, thunder, and lightning, was seen to be +advancing overhead from the north. + +The two cautious elders suggested an immediate return, and +proceeded to put it in practice as regarded themselves. + +'Dear me, I wish I had not come up,' exclaimed Mrs. Swancourt. + +'We shall be slower than you two in going down,' the vicar said +over his shoulder, 'and so, don't you start till we are nearly at +the bottom, or you will run over us and break our necks somewhere +in the darkness of the turret.' + +Accordingly Elfride and Knight waited on the leads till the +staircase should be clear. Knight was not in a talkative mood +that morning. Elfride was rather wilful, by reason of his +inattention, which she privately set down to his thinking her not +worth talking to. Whilst Knight stood watching the rise of the +cloud, she sauntered to the other side of the tower, and there +remembered a giddy feat she had performed the year before. It was +to walk round upon the parapet of the tower--which was quite +without battlement or pinnacle, and presented a smooth flat +surface about two feet wide, forming a pathway on all the four +sides. Without reflecting in the least upon what she was doing +she now stepped upon the parapet in the old way, and began walking +along. + +'We are down, cousin Henry,' cried Mrs. Swancourt up the turret. +'Follow us when you like.' + +Knight turned and saw Elfride beginning her elevated promenade. +His face flushed with mingled concern and anger at her rashness. + +'I certainly gave you credit for more common sense,' he said. + +She reddened a little and walked on. + +'Miss Swancourt, I insist upon your coming down,' he exclaimed. + +'I will in a minute. I am safe enough. I have done it often.' + +At that moment, by reason of a slight perturbation his words had +caused in her, Elfride's foot caught itself in a little tuft of +grass growing in a joint of the stone-work, and she almost lost +her balance. Knight sprang forward with a face of horror. By +what seemed the special interposition of a considerate Providence +she tottered to the inner edge of the parapet instead of to the +outer, and reeled over upon the lead roof two or three feet below +the wall. + +Knight seized her as in a vice, and he said, panting, 'That ever I +should have met a woman fool enough to do a thing of that kind! +Good God, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!' + +The close proximity of the Shadow of Death had made her sick and +pale as a corpse before he spoke. Already lowered to that state, +his words completely over-powered her, and she swooned away as he +held her. + +Elfride's eyes were not closed for more than forty seconds. She +opened them, and remembered the position instantly. His face had +altered its expression from stern anger to pity. But his severe +remarks had rather frightened her, and she struggled to be free. + +'If you can stand, of course you may,' he said, and loosened his +arms. 'I hardly know whether most to laugh at your freak or to +chide you for its folly.' + +She immediately sank upon the lead-work. Knight lifted her again. +'Are you hurt?' he said. + +She murmured an incoherent expression, and tried to smile; saying, +with a fitful aversion of her face, 'I am only frightened. Put me +down, do put me down!' + +'But you can't walk,' said Knight. + +'You don't know that; how can you? I am only frightened, I tell +you,' she answered petulantly, and raised her hand to her +forehead. Knight then saw that she was bleeding from a severe cut +in her wrist, apparently where it had descended upon a salient +corner of the lead-work. Elfride, too, seemed to perceive and +feel this now for the first time, and for a minute nearly lost +consciousness again. Knight rapidly bound his handkerchief round +the place, and to add to the complication, the thundercloud he had +been watching began to shed some heavy drops of rain. Knight +looked up and saw the vicar striding towards the house, and Mrs. +Swancourt waddling beside him like a hard-driven duck. + +'As you are so faint, it will be much better to let me carry you +down,' said Knight; 'or at any rate inside out of the rain.' But +her objection to be lifted made it impossible for him to support +her for more than five steps. + +'This is folly, great folly,' he exclaimed, setting her down. + +'Indeed!' she murmured, with tears in her eyes. 'I say I will not +be carried, and you say this is folly!' + +'So it is.' + +'No, it isn't!' + +'It is folly, I think. At any rate, the origin of it all is.' + +'I don't agree to it. And you needn't get so angry with me; I am +not worth it.' + +'Indeed you are. You are worth the enmity of princes, as was said +of such another. Now, then, will you clasp your hands behind my +neck, that I may carry you down without hurting you?' + +'No, no.' + +'You had better, or I shall foreclose.' + +'What's that!' + +'Deprive you of your chance.' + +Elfride gave a little toss. + +'Now, don't writhe so when I attempt to carry you.' + +'I can't help it.' + +'Then submit quietly.' + +'I don't care. I don't care,' she murmured in languid tones and +with closed eyes. + +He took her into his arms, entered the turret, and with slow and +cautious steps descended round and round. Then, with the +gentleness of a nursing mother, he attended to the cut on her arm. +During his progress through the operations of wiping it and +binding it up anew, her face changed its aspect from pained +indifference to something like bashful interest, interspersed with +small tremors and shudders of a trifling kind. + +In the centre of each pale cheek a small red spot the size of a +wafer had now made its appearance, and continued to grow larger. +Elfride momentarily expected a recurrence to the lecture on her +foolishness, but Knight said no more than this-- + +'Promise me NEVER to walk on that parapet again.' + +'It will be pulled down soon: so I do.' In a few minutes she +continued in a lower tone, and seriously, 'You are familiar of +course, as everybody is, with those strange sensations we +sometimes have, that our life for the moment exists in duplicate.' + +'That we have lived through that moment before?' + +'Or shall again. Well, I felt on the tower that something similar +to that scene is again to be common to us both.' + +'God forbid!' said Knight. 'Promise me that you will never again +walk on any such place on any consideration.' + +'I do.' + +'That such a thing has not been before, we know. That it shall +not be again, you vow. Therefore think no more of such a foolish +fancy.' + +There had fallen a great deal of rain, but unaccompanied by +lightning. A few minutes longer, and the storm had ceased. + +'Now, take my arm, please.' + +'Oh no, it is not necessary.' This relapse into wilfulness was +because he had again connected the epithet foolish with her. + +'Nonsense: it is quite necessary; it will rain again directly, and +you are not half recovered.' And without more ado Knight took her +hand, drew it under his arm, and held it there so firmly that she +could not have removed it without a struggle. Feeling like a colt +in a halter for the first time, at thus being led along, yet +afraid to be angry, it was to her great relief that she saw the +carriage coming round the corner to fetch them. + +Her fall upon the roof was necessarily explained to some extent +upon their entering the house; but both forbore to mention a word +of what she had been doing to cause such an accident. During the +remainder of the afternoon Elfride was invisible; but at dinner- +time she appeared as bright as ever. + +In the drawing-room, after having been exclusively engaged with +Mr. and Mrs. Swancourt through the intervening hour, Knight again +found himself thrown with Elfride. She had been looking over a +chess problem in one of the illustrated periodicals. + +'You like chess, Miss Swancourt?' + +'Yes. It is my favourite scientific game; indeed, excludes every +other. Do you play?' + +'I have played; though not lately.' + +'Challenge him, Elfride,' said the vicar heartily. 'She plays +very well for a lady, Mr. Knight.' + +'Shall we play?' asked Elfride tentatively. + +'Oh, certainly. I shall be delighted.' + +The game began. Mr. Swancourt had forgotten a similar performance +with Stephen Smith the year before. Elfride had not; but she had +begun to take for her maxim the undoubted truth that the necessity +of continuing faithful to Stephen, without suspicion, dictated a +fickle behaviour almost as imperatively as fickleness itself; a +fact, however, which would give a startling advantage to the +latter quality should it ever appear. + +Knight, by one of those inexcusable oversights which will +sometimes afflict the best of players, placed his rook in the arms +of one of her pawns. It was her first advantage. She looked +triumphant--even ruthless. + +'By George! what was I thinking of?' said Knight quietly; and then +dismissed all concern at his accident. + +'Club laws we'll have, won't we, Mr. Knight?' said Elfride +suasively. + +'Oh yes, certainly,' said Mr. Knight, a thought, however, just +occurring to his mind, that he had two or three times allowed her +to replace a man on her religiously assuring him that such a move +was an absolute blunder. + +She immediately took up the unfortunate rook and the contest +proceeded, Elfride having now rather the better of the game. Then +he won the exchange, regained his position, and began to press her +hard. Elfride grew flurried, and placed her queen on his +remaining rook's file. + +'There--how stupid! Upon my word, I did not see your rook. Of +course nobody but a fool would have put a queen there knowingly!' + +She spoke excitedly, half expecting her antagonist to give her +back the move. + +'Nobody, of course,' said Knight serenely, and stretched out his +hand towards his royal victim. + +'It is not very pleasant to have it taken advantage of, then,' she +said with some vexation. + +'Club laws, I think you said?' returned Knight blandly, and +mercilessly appropriating the queen. + +She was on the brink of pouting, but was ashamed to show it; tears +almost stood in her eyes. She had been trying so hard--so very +hard--thinking and thinking till her brain was in a whirl; and it +seemed so heartless of him to treat her so, after all. + +'I think it is----' she began. + +'What?' + +--'Unkind to take advantage of a pure mistake I make in that way.' + +'I lost my rook by even a purer mistake,' said the enemy in an +inexorable tone, without lifting his eyes. + +'Yes, but----' However, as his logic was absolutely unanswerable, +she merely registered a protest. 'I cannot endure those cold- +blooded ways of clubs and professional players, like Staunton and +Morphy. Just as if it really mattered whether you have raised +your fingers from a man or no!' + +Knight smiled as pitilessly as before, and they went on in +silence. + +'Checkmate,' said Knight. + +'Another game,' said Elfride peremptorily, and looking very warm. + +'With all my heart,' said Knight. + +'Checkmate,' said Knight again at the end of forty minutes. + +'Another game,' she returned resolutely. + +'I'll give you the odds of a bishop,' Knight said to her kindly. + +'No, thank you,' Elfride replied in a tone intended for courteous +indifference; but, as a fact, very cavalier indeed. + +'Checkmate,' said her opponent without the least emotion. + +Oh, the difference between Elfride's condition of mind now, and +when she purposely made blunders that Stephen Smith might win! + +It was bedtime. Her mind as distracted as if it would throb +itself out of her head, she went off to her chamber, full of +mortification at being beaten time after time when she herself was +the aggressor. Having for two or three years enjoyed the +reputation throughout the globe of her father's brain--which +almost constituted her entire world--of being an excellent player, +this fiasco was intolerable; for unfortunately the person most +dogged in the belief in a false reputation is always that one, the +possessor, who has the best means of knowing that it is not true. + +In bed no sleep came to soothe her; that gentle thing being the +very middle-of-summer friend in this respect of flying away at the +merest troublous cloud. After lying awake till two o'clock an +idea seemed to strike her. She softly arose, got a light, and +fetched a Chess Praxis from the library. Returning and sitting up +in bed, she diligently studied the volume till the clock struck +five, and her eyelids felt thick and heavy. She then extinguished +the light and lay down again. + +'You look pale, Elfride,' said Mrs. Swancourt the next morning at +breakfast. 'Isn't she, cousin Harry?' + +A young girl who is scarcely ill at all can hardly help becoming +so when regarded as such by all eyes turning upon her at the table +in obedience to some remark. Everybody looked at Elfride. She +certainly was pale. + +'Am I pale?' she said with a faint smile. 'I did not sleep much. +I could not get rid of armies of bishops and knights, try how I +would.' + +'Chess is a bad thing just before bedtime; especially for +excitable people like yourself, dear. Don't ever play late +again.' + +'I'll play early instead. Cousin Knight,' she said in imitation +of Mrs. Swancourt, 'will you oblige me in something?' + +'Even to half my kingdom.' + +'Well, it is to play one game more.' + +'When?' + +'Now, instantly; the moment we have breakfasted.' + +'Nonsense, Elfride,' said her father. 'Making yourself a slave to +the game like that.' + +'But I want to, papa! Honestly, I am restless at having been so +ignominiously overcome. And Mr. Knight doesn't mind. So what +harm can there be?' + +'Let us play, by all means, if you wish it,' said Knight. + +So, when breakfast was over, the combatants withdrew to the quiet +of the library, and the door was closed. Elfride seemed to have +an idea that her conduct was rather ill-regulated and startlingly +free from conventional restraint. And worse, she fancied upon +Knight's face a slightly amused look at her proceedings. + +'You think me foolish, I suppose,' she said recklessly; 'but I +want to do my very best just once, and see whether I can overcome +you.' + +'Certainly: nothing more natural. Though I am afraid it is not +the plan adopted by women of the world after a defeat.' + +'Why, pray?' + +'Because they know that as good as overcoming is skill in effacing +recollection of being overcome, and turn their attention to that +entirely.' + +'I am wrong again, of course.' + +'Perhaps your wrong is more pleasing than their right.' + +'I don't quite know whether you mean that, or whether you are +laughing at me,' she said, looking doubtingly at him, yet +inclining to accept the more flattering interpretation. 'I am +almost sure you think it vanity in me to think I am a match for +you. Well, if you do, I say that vanity is no crime in such a +case.' + +'Well, perhaps not. Though it is hardly a virtue.' + +'Oh yes, in battle! Nelson's bravery lay in his vanity.' + +'Indeed! Then so did his death.' + +Oh no, no! For it is written in the book of the prophet +Shakespeare-- + + + "Fear and be slain? no worse can come to fight; + And fight and die, is death destroying death!" + + +And down they sat, and the contest began, Elfride having the first +move. The game progressed. Elfride's heart beat so violently +that she could not sit still. Her dread was lest he should hear +it. And he did discover it at last--some flowers upon the table +being set throbbing by its pulsations. + +'I think we had better give over,' said Knight, looking at her +gently. 'It is too much for you, I know. Let us write down the +position, and finish another time.' + +'No, please not,' she implored. 'I should not rest if I did not +know the result at once. It is your move.' + +Ten minutes passed. + +She started up suddenly. 'I know what you are doing?' she cried, +an angry colour upon her cheeks, and her eyes indignant. 'You +were thinking of letting me win to please me!' + +'I don't mind owning that I was,' Knight responded phlegmatically, +and appearing all the more so by contrast with her own turmoil. + +'But you must not! I won't have it.' + +'Very well.' + +'No, that will not do; I insist that you promise not to do any +such absurd thing. It is insulting me!' + +'Very well, madam. I won't do any such absurd thing. You shall +not win.' + +'That is to be proved!' she returned proudly; and the play went +on. + +Nothing is now heard but the ticking of a quaint old timepiece on +the summit of a bookcase. Ten minutes pass; he captures her +knight; she takes his knight, and looks a very Rhadamanthus. + +More minutes tick away; she takes his pawn and has the advantage, +showing her sense of it rather prominently. + +Five minutes more: he takes her bishop: she brings things even by +taking his knight. + +Three minutes: she looks bold, and takes his queen: he looks +placid, and takes hers. + +Eight or ten minutes pass: he takes a pawn; she utters a little +pooh! but not the ghost of a pawn can she take in retaliation. + +Ten minutes pass: he takes another pawn and says, 'Check!' She +flushes, extricates herself by capturing his bishop, and looks +triumphant. He immediately takes her bishop: she looks surprised. + +Five minutes longer: she makes a dash and takes his only remaining +bishop; he replies by taking her only remaining knight. + +Two minutes: he gives check; her mind is now in a painful state of +tension, and she shades her face with her hand. + +Yet a few minutes more: he takes her rook and checks again. She +literally trembles now lest an artful surprise she has in store +for him shall be anticipated by the artful surprise he evidently +has in store for her. + +Five minutes: 'Checkmate in two moves!' exclaims Elfride. + +'If you can,' says Knight. + +'Oh, I have miscalculated; that is cruel!' + +'Checkmate,' says Knight; and the victory is won. + +Elfride arose and turned away without letting him see her face. +Once in the hall she ran upstairs and into her room, and flung +herself down upon her bed, weeping bitterly. + + +'Where is Elfride?' said her father at luncheon. + +Knight listened anxiously for the answer. He had been hoping to +see her again before this time. + +'She isn't well, sir,' was the reply. + +Mrs. Swancourt rose and left the room, going upstairs to Elfride's +apartment. + +At the door was Unity, who occupied in the new establishment a +position between young lady's maid and middle-housemaid. + +'She is sound asleep, ma'am,' Unity whispered. + +Mrs. Swancourt opened the door. Elfride was lying full-dressed on +the bed, her face hot and red, her arms thrown abroad. At +intervals of a minute she tossed restlessly from side to side, and +indistinctly moaned words used in the game of chess. + +Mrs. Swancourt had a turn for doctoring, and felt her pulse. It +was twanging like a harp-string, at the rate of nearly a hundred +and fifty a minute. Softly moving the sleeping girl to a little +less cramped position, she went downstairs again. + +'She is asleep now,' said Mrs. Swancourt. 'She does not seem very +well. Cousin Knight, what were you thinking of? her tender brain +won't bear cudgelling like your great head. You should have +strictly forbidden her to play again.' + +In truth, the essayist's experience of the nature of young women +was far less extensive than his abstract knowledge of them led +himself and others to believe. He could pack them into sentences +like a workman, but practically was nowhere. + +'I am indeed sorry,' said Knight, feeling even more than he +expressed. 'But surely, the young lady knows best what is good +for her!' + +'Bless you, that's just what she doesn't know. She never thinks +of such things, does she, Christopher? Her father and I have to +command her and keep her in order, as you would a child. She will +say things worthy of a French epigrammatist, and act like a robin +in a greenhouse. But I think we will send for Dr. Granson--there +can be no harm.' + +A man was straightway despatched on horseback to Castle Boterel, +and the gentleman known as Dr. Granson came in the course of the +afternoon. He pronounced her nervous system to be in a decided +state of disorder; forwarded some soothing draught, and gave +orders that on no account whatever was she to play chess again. + +The next morning Knight, much vexed with himself, waited with a +curiously compounded feeling for her entry to breakfast. The +women servants came in to prayers at irregular intervals, and as +each entered, he could not, to save his life, avoid turning his +head with the hope that she might be Elfride. Mr. Swancourt began +reading without waiting for her. Then somebody glided in +noiselessly; Knight softly glanced up: it was only the little +kitchen-maid. Knight thought reading prayers a bore. + +He went out alone, and for almost the first time failed to +recognize that holding converse with Nature's charms was not +solitude. On nearing the house again he perceived his young +friend crossing a slope by a path which ran into the one he was +following in the angle of the field. Here they met. Elfride was +at once exultant and abashed: coming into his presence had upon +her the effect of entering a cathedral. + +Knight had his note-book in his hand, and had, in fact, been in +the very act of writing therein when they came in view of each +other. He left off in the midst of a sentence, and proceeded to +inquire warmly concerning her state of health. She said she was +perfectly well, and indeed had never looked better. Her health +was as inconsequent as her actions. Her lips were red, WITHOUT +the polish that cherries have, and their redness margined with the +white skin in a clearly defined line, which had nothing of jagged +confusion in it. Altogether she stood as the last person in the +world to be knocked over by a game of chess, because too +ephemeral-looking to play one. + +'Are you taking notes?' she inquired with an alacrity plainly +arising less from interest in the subject than from a wish to +divert his thoughts from herself. + +'Yes; I was making an entry. And with your permission I will +complete it.' Knight then stood still and wrote. Elfride remained +beside him a moment, and afterwards walked on. + +'I should like to see all the secrets that are in that book,' she +gaily flung back to him over her shoulder. + +'I don't think you would find much to interest you.' + +'I know I should.' + +'Then of course I have no more to say.' + +'But I would ask this question first. Is it a book of mere facts +concerning journeys and expenditure, and so on, or a book of +thoughts?' + +'Well, to tell the truth, it is not exactly either. It consists +for the most part of jottings for articles and essays, disjointed +and disconnected, of no possible interest to anybody but myself.' + +'It contains, I suppose, your developed thoughts in embryo?' + +'Yes.' + +'If they are interesting when enlarged to the size of an article, +what must they be in their concentrated form? Pure rectified +spirit, above proof; before it is lowered to be fit for human +consumption: "words that burn" indeed.' + +'Rather like a balloon before it is inflated: flabby, shapeless, +dead. You could hardly read them.' + +'May I try?' she said coaxingly. 'I wrote my poor romance in that +way--I mean in bits, out of doors--and I should like to see +whether your way of entering things is the same as mine.' + +'Really, that's rather an awkward request. I suppose I can hardly +refuse now you have asked so directly; but----' + +'You think me ill-mannered in asking. But does not this justify +me--your writing in my presence, Mr. Knight? If I had lighted upon +your book by chance, it would have been different; but you stand +before me, and say, "Excuse me," without caring whether I do or +not, and write on, and then tell me they are not private facts but +public ideas.' + +'Very well, Miss Swancourt. If you really must see, the +consequences be upon your own head. Remember, my advice to you is +to leave my book alone.' + +'But with that caution I have your permission?' + +'Yes.' + +She hesitated a moment, looked at his hand containing the book, +then laughed, and saying, 'I must see it,' withdrew it from his +fingers. + +Knight rambled on towards the house, leaving her standing in the +path turning over the leaves. By the time he had reached the +wicket-gate he saw that she had moved, and waited till she came +up. + +Elfride had closed the note-book, and was carrying it disdainfully +by the corner between her finger and thumb; her face wore a +nettled look. She silently extended the volume towards him, +raising her eyes no higher than her hand was lifted. + +'Take it,' said Elfride quickly. 'I don't want to read it.' + +'Could you understand it?' said Knight. + +'As far as I looked. But I didn't care to read much.' + +'Why, Miss Swancourt?' + +'Only because I didn't wish to--that's all.' + +'I warned you that you might not.' + +'Yes, but I never supposed you would have put me there.' + +'Your name is not mentioned once within the four corners.' + +'Not my name--I know that.' + +'Nor your description, nor anything by which anybody would +recognize you.' + +'Except myself. For what is this?' she exclaimed, taking it from +him and opening a page. 'August 7. That's the day before +yesterday. But I won't read it,' Elfride said, closing the book +again with pretty hauteur. 'Why should I? I had no business to +ask to see your hook, and it serves me right.' + +Knight hardly recollected what he had written, and turned over the +book to see. He came to this: + +'Aug. 7. Girl gets into her teens, and her self-consciousness is +born. After a certain interval passed in infantine helplessness +it begins to act. Simple, young, and inexperienced at first. +Persons of observation can tell to a nicety how old this +consciousness is by the skill it has acquired in the art necessary +to its success--the art of hiding itself. Generally begins career +by actions which are popularly termed showing-off. Method adopted +depends in each case upon the disposition, rank, residence, of the +young lady attempting it. Town-bred girl will utter some moral +paradox on fast men, or love. Country miss adopts the more +material media of taking a ghastly fence, whistling, or making +your blood run cold by appearing to risk her neck. (MEM. On +Endelstow Tower.) + +'An innocent vanity is of course the origin of these displays. +"Look at me," say these youthful beginners in womanly artifice, +without reflecting whether or not it be to their advantage to show +so very much of themselves. (Amplify and correct for paper on +Artless Arts.)' + +'Yes, I remember now,' said Knight. 'The notes were certainly +suggested by your manoeuvre on the church tower. But you must not +think too much of such random observations,' he continued +encouragingly, as he noticed her injured looks. 'A mere fancy +passing through my head assumes a factitious importance to you, +because it has been made permanent by being written down. All +mankind think thoughts as bad as those of people they most love on +earth, but such thoughts never getting embodied on paper, it +becomes assumed that they never existed. I daresay that you +yourself have thought some disagreeable thing or other of me, +which would seem just as bad as this if written. I challenge you, +now, to tell me.' + +'The worst thing I have thought of you?' + +'Yes.' + +'I must not.' + +'Oh yes.' + +'I thought you were rather round-shouldered.' + +Knight looked slightly redder. + +'And that there was a little bald spot on the top of your head.' + +'Heh-heh! Two ineradicable defects,' said Knight, there being a +faint ghastliness discernible in his laugh. 'They are much worse +in a lady's eye than being thought self-conscious, I suppose.' + +'Ah, that's very fine,' she said, too inexperienced to perceive +her hit, and hence not quite disposed to forgive his notes. 'You +alluded to me in that entry as if I were such a child, too. +Everybody does that. I cannot understand it. I am quite a woman, +you know. How old do you think I am?' + +'How old? Why, seventeen, I should say. All girls are seventeen.' + +'You are wrong. I am nearly nineteen. Which class of women do +you like best, those who seem younger, or those who seem older +than they are?' + +'Off-hand I should be inclined to say those who seem older.' + +So it was not Elfride's class. + +'But it is well known,' she said eagerly, and there was something +touching in the artless anxiety to be thought much of which she +revealed by her words, 'that the slower a nature is to develop, +the richer the nature. Youths and girls who are men and women +before they come of age are nobodies by the time that backward +people have shown their full compass.' + +'Yes,' said Knight thoughtfully. 'There is really something in +that remark. But at the risk of offence I must remind you that +you there take it for granted that the woman behind her time at a +given age has not reached the end of her tether. Her backwardness +may be not because she is slow to develop, but because she soon +exhausted her capacity for developing.' + +Elfride looked disappointed. By this time they were indoors. +Mrs. Swancourt, to whom match-making by any honest means was meat +and drink, had now a little scheme of that nature concerning this +pair. The morning-room, in which they both expected to find her, +was empty; the old lady having, for the above reason, vacated it +by the second door as they entered by the first. + +Knight went to the chimney-piece, and carelessly surveyed two +portraits on ivory. + +'Though these pink ladies had very rudimentary features, judging +by what I see here,' he observed, 'they had unquestionably +beautiful heads of hair.' + +'Yes; and that is everything,' said Elfride, possibly conscious of +her own, possibly not. + +'Not everything; though a great deal, certainly.' + +'Which colour do you like best?' she ventured to ask. + +'More depends on its abundance than on its colour.' + +'Abundances being equal, may I inquire your favourite colour?' + +'Dark.' + +'I mean for women,' she said, with the minutest fall of +countenance, and a hope that she had been misunderstood. + +'So do I,' Knight replied. + +It was impossible for any man not to know the colour of Elfride's +hair. In women who wear it plainly such a feature may be +overlooked by men not given to ocular intentness. But hers was +always in the way. You saw her hair as far as you could see her +sex, and knew that it was the palest brown. She knew instantly +that Knight, being perfectly aware of this, had an independent +standard of admiration in the matter. + +Elfride was thoroughly vexed. She could not but be struck with +the honesty of his opinions, and the worst of it was, that the +more they went against her, the more she respected them. And now, +like a reckless gambler, she hazarded her last and best treasure. +Her eyes: they were her all now. + +'What coloured eyes do you like best, Mr. Knight?' she said +slowly. + +'Honestly, or as a compliment?' + +'Of course honestly; I don't want anybody's compliment!' + +And yet Elfride knew otherwise: that a compliment or word of +approval from that man then would have been like a well to a +famished Arab. + +'I prefer hazel,' he said serenely. + +She had played and lost again. + + + +Chapter XIX + +'Love was in the next degree.' + + +Knight had none of those light familiarities of speech which, by +judicious touches of epigrammatic flattery, obliterate a woman's +recollection of the speaker's abstract opinions. So no more was +said by either on the subject of hair, eyes, or development. +Elfride's mind had been impregnated with sentiments of her own +smallness to an uncomfortable degree of distinctness, and her +discomfort was visible in her face. The whole tendency of the +conversation latterly had been to quietly but surely disparage +her; and she was fain to take Stephen into favour in self-defence. +He would not have been so unloving, she said, as to admire an +idiosyncrasy and features different from her own. True, Stephen +had declared he loved her: Mr. Knight had never done anything of +the sort. Somehow this did not mend matters, and the sensation of +her smallness in Knight's eyes still remained. Had the position +been reversed--had Stephen loved her in spite of a differing +taste, and had Knight been indifferent in spite of her resemblance +to his ideal, it would have engendered far happier thoughts. As +matters stood, Stephen's admiration might have its root in a +blindness the result of passion. Perhaps any keen man's judgment +was condemnatory of her. + +During the remainder of Saturday they were more or less thrown +with their seniors, and no conversation arose which was +exclusively their own. When Elfride was in bed that night her +thoughts recurred to the same subject. At one moment she insisted +that it was ill-natured of him to speak so decisively as he had +done; the next, that it was sterling honesty. + +'Ah, what a poor nobody I am!' she said, sighing. 'People like +him, who go about the great world, don't care in the least what I +am like either in mood or feature.' + +Perhaps a man who has got thoroughly into a woman's mind in this +manner, is half way to her heart; the distance between those two +stations is proverbially short. + +'And are you really going away this week?' said Mrs. Swancourt to +Knight on the following evening, which was Sunday. + +They were all leisurely climbing the hill to the church, where a +last service was now to be held at the rather exceptional time of +evening instead of in the afternoon, previous to the demolition of +the ruinous portions. + +'I am intending to cross to Cork from Bristol,' returned Knight; +'and then I go on to Dublin.' + +'Return this way, and stay a little longer with us,' said the +vicar. 'A week is nothing. We have hardly been able to realize +your presence yet. I remember a story which----' + +The vicar suddenly stopped. He had forgotten it was Sunday, and +would probably have gone on in his week-day mode of thought had +not a turn in the breeze blown the skirt of his college gown +within the range of his vision, and so reminded him. He at once +diverted the current of his narrative with the dexterity the +occasion demanded. + +'The story of the Levite who journeyed to Bethlehem-judah, from +which I took my text the Sunday before last, is quite to the +point,' he continued, with the pronunciation of a man who, far +from having intended to tell a week-day story a moment earlier, +had thought of nothing but Sabbath matters for several weeks. +'What did he gain after all by his restlessness? Had he remained +in the city of the Jebusites, and not been so anxious for Gibeah, +none of his troubles would have arisen.' + +'But he had wasted five days already,' said Knight, closing his +eyes to the vicar's commendable diversion. 'His fault lay in +beginning the tarrying system originally.' + +'True, true; my illustration fails.' + +'But not the hospitality which prompted the story.' + +'So you are to come just the same,' urged Mrs. Swancourt, for she +had seen an almost imperceptible fall of countenance in her +stepdaughter at Knight's announcement. + +Knight half promised to call on his return journey; but the +uncertainty with which he spoke was quite enough to fill Elfride +with a regretful interest in all he did during the few remaining +hours. The curate having already officiated twice that day in the +two churches, Mr. Swancourt had undertaken the whole of the +evening service, and Knight read the lessons for him. The sun +streamed across from the dilapidated west window, and lighted all +the assembled worshippers with a golden glow, Knight as he read +being illuminated by the same mellow lustre. Elfride at the organ +regarded him with a throbbing sadness of mood which was fed by a +sense of being far removed from his sphere. As he went +deliberately through the chapter appointed--a portion of the +history of Elijah--and ascended that magnificent climax of the +wind, the earthquake, the fire, and the still small voice, his +deep tones echoed past with such apparent disregard of her +existence, that his presence inspired her with a forlorn sense of +unapproachableness, which his absence would hardly have been able +to cause. + +At the same time, turning her face for a moment to catch the glory +of the dying sun as it fell on his form, her eyes were arrested by +the shape and aspect of a woman in the west gallery. It was the +bleak barren countenance of the widow Jethway, whom Elfride had +not seen much of since the morning of her return with Stephen +Smith. Possessing the smallest of competencies, this unhappy +woman appeared to spend her life in journeyings between Endelstow +Churchyard and that of a village near Southampton, where her +father and mother were laid. + +She had not attended the service here for a considerable time, and +she now seemed to have a reason for her choice of seat. From the +gallery window the tomb of her son was plainly visible--standing +as the nearest object in a prospect which was closed outwardly by +the changeless horizon of the sea. + +The streaming rays, too, flooded her face, now bent towards +Elfride with a hard and bitter expression that the solemnity of +the place raised to a tragic dignity it did not intrinsically +possess. The girl resumed her normal attitude with an added +disquiet. + +Elfride's emotion was cumulative, and after a while would assert +itself on a sudden. A slight touch was enough to set it free--a +poem, a sunset, a cunningly contrived chord of music, a vague +imagining, being the usual accidents of its exhibition. The +longing for Knight's respect, which was leading up to an incipient +yearning for his love, made the present conjuncture a sufficient +one. Whilst kneeling down previous to leaving, when the sunny +streaks had gone upward to the roof, and the lower part of the +church was in soft shadow, she could not help thinking of +Coleridge's morbid poem 'The Three Graves,' and shuddering as she +wondered if Mrs. Jethway were cursing her, she wept as if her +heart would break. + +They came out of church just as the sun went down, leaving the +landscape like a platform from which an eloquent speaker has +retired, and nothing remains for the audience to do but to rise +and go home. Mr. and Mrs. Swancourt went off in the carriage, +Knight and Elfride preferring to walk, as the skilful old +matchmaker had imagined. They descended the hill together. + +'I liked your reading, Mr. Knight,' Elfride presently found +herself saying. 'You read better than papa.' + +'I will praise anybody that will praise me. You played +excellently, Miss Swancourt, and very correctly.' + +'Correctly--yes.' + +'It must be a great pleasure to you to take an active part in the +service.' + +'I want to be able to play with more feeling. But I have not a +good selection of music, sacred or secular. I wish I had a nice +little music-library--well chosen, and that the only new pieces +sent me were those of genuine merit.' + +'I am glad to hear such a wish from you. It is extraordinary how +many women have no honest love of music as an end and not as a +means, even leaving out those who have nothing in them. They +mostly like it for its accessories. I have never met a woman who +loves music as do ten or a dozen men I know.' + +'How would you draw the line between women with something and +women with nothing in them?' + +'Well,' said Knight, reflecting a moment, 'I mean by nothing in +them those who don't care about anything solid. This is an +instance: I knew a man who had a young friend in whom he was much +interested; in fact, they were going to be married. She was +seemingly poetical, and he offered her a choice of two editions of +the British poets, which she pretended to want badly. He said, +"Which of them would you like best for me to send?" She said, "A +pair of the prettiest earrings in Bond Street, if you don't mind, +would be nicer than either." Now I call her a girl with not much +in her but vanity; and so do you, I daresay.' + +'Oh yes,' replied Elfride with an effort. + +Happening to catch a glimpse of her face as she was speaking, and +noticing that her attempt at heartiness was a miserable failure, +he appeared to have misgivings. + +'You, Miss Swancourt, would not, under such circumstances, have +preferred the nicknacks?' + +'No, I don't think I should, indeed,' she stammered. + +'I'll put it to you,' said the inflexible Knight. 'Which will you +have of these two things of about equal value--the well-chosen +little library of the best music you spoke of--bound in morocco, +walnut case, lock and key--or a pair of the very prettiest +earrings in Bond Street windows?' + +'Of course the music,' Elfride replied with forced earnestness. + +'You are quite certain?' he said emphatically. + +'Quite,' she faltered; 'if I could for certain buy the earrings +afterwards.' + +Knight, somewhat blamably, keenly enjoyed sparring with the +palpitating mobile creature, whose excitable nature made any such +thing a species of cruelty. + +He looked at her rather oddly, and said, 'Fie!' + +'Forgive me,' she said, laughing a little, a little frightened, +and blushing very deeply. + +'Ah, Miss Elfie, why didn't you say at first, as any firm woman +would have said, I am as bad as she, and shall choose the same?' + +'I don't know,' said Elfride wofully, and with a distressful +smile. + +'I thought you were exceptionally musical?' + +'So I am, I think. But the test is so severe--quite painful.' + +'I don't understand.' + +'Music doesn't do any real good, or rather----' + +'That IS a thing to say, Miss Swancourt! Why, what----' + +'You don't understand! you don't understand!' + +'Why, what conceivable use is there in jimcrack jewellery?' + +'No, no, no, no!' she cried petulantly; 'I didn't mean what you +think. I like the music best, only I like----' + +'Earrings better--own it!' he said in a teasing tone. 'Well, I +think I should have had the moral courage to own it at once, +without pretending to an elevation I could not reach.' + +Like the French soldiery, Elfride was not brave when on the +defensive. So it was almost with tears in her eyes that she +answered desperately: + +'My meaning is, that I like earrings best just now, because I lost +one of my prettiest pair last year, and papa said he would not buy +any more, or allow me to myself, because I was careless; and now I +wish I had some like them--that's what my meaning is--indeed it +is, Mr. Knight.' + +'I am afraid I have been very harsh and rude,' said Knight, with a +look of regret at seeing how disturbed she was. 'But seriously, +if women only knew how they ruin their good looks by such +appurtenances, I am sure they would never want them.' + +'They were lovely, and became me so!' + +'Not if they were like the ordinary hideous things women stuff +their ears with nowadays--like the governor of a steam-engine, or +a pair of scales, or gold gibbets and chains, and artists' +palettes, and compensation pendulums, and Heaven knows what +besides.' + +'No; they were not one of those things. So pretty--like this,' +she said with eager animation. And she drew with the point of her +parasol an enlarged view of one of the lamented darlings, to a +scale that would have suited a giantess half-a-mile high. + +'Yes, very pretty--very,' said Knight dryly. 'How did you come to +lose such a precious pair of articles?' + +'I only lost one--nobody ever loses both at the same time.' + +She made this remark with embarrassment, and a nervous movement of +the fingers. Seeing that the loss occurred whilst Stephen Smith +was attempting to kiss her for the first time on the cliff, her +confusion was hardly to be wondered at. The question had been +awkward, and received no direct answer. + +Knight seemed not to notice her manner. + +'Oh, nobody ever loses both--I see. And certainly the fact that +it was a case of loss takes away all odour of vanity from your +choice.' + +'As I never know whether you are in earnest, I don't now,' she +said, looking up inquiringly at the hairy face of the oracle. And +coming gallantly to her own rescue, 'If I really seem vain, it is +that I am only vain in my ways--not in my heart. The worst women +are those vain in their hearts, and not in their ways.' + +'An adroit distinction. Well, they are certainly the more +objectionable of the two,' said Knight. + +'Is vanity a mortal or a venial sin? You know what life is: tell +me.' + +'I am very far from knowing what life is. A just conception of +life is too large a thing to grasp during the short interval of +passing through it.' + +'Will the fact of a woman being fond of jewellery be likely to +make her life, in its higher sense, a failure?' + +'Nobody's life is altogether a failure.' + +'Well, you know what I mean, even though my words are badly +selected and commonplace,' she said impatiently. 'Because I utter +commonplace words, you must not suppose I think only commonplace +thoughts. My poor stock of words are like a limited number of +rough moulds I have to cast all my materials in, good and bad; and +the novelty or delicacy of the substance is often lost in the +coarse triteness of the form.' + +'Very well; I'll believe that ingenious representation. As to the +subject in hand--lives which are failures--you need not trouble +yourself. Anybody's life may be just as romantic and strange and +interesting if he or she fails as if he or she succeed. All the +difference is, that the last chapter is wanting in the story. If +a man of power tries to do a great deed, and just falls short of +it by an accident not his fault, up to that time his history had +as much in it as that of a great man who has done his great deed. +It is whimsical of the world to hold that particulars of how a lad +went to school and so on should be as an interesting romance or as +nothing to them, precisely in proportion to his after renown.' + +They were walking between the sunset and the moonrise. With the +dropping of the sun a nearly full moon had begun to raise itself. +Their shadows, as cast by the western glare, showed signs of +becoming obliterated in the interest of a rival pair in the +opposite direction which the moon was bringing to distinctness. + +'I consider my life to some extent a failure,' said Knight again +after a pause, during which he had noticed the antagonistic +shadows. + +'You! How?' + +'I don't precisely know. But in some way I have missed the mark.' + +'Really? To have done it is not much to be sad about, but to feel +that you have done it must be a cause of sorrow. Am I right?' + +'Partly, though not quite. For a sensation of being profoundly +experienced serves as a sort of consolation to people who are +conscious of having taken wrong turnings. Contradictory as it +seems, there is nothing truer than that people who have always +gone right don't know half as much about the nature and ways of +going right as those do who have gone wrong. However, it is not +desirable for me to chill your summer-time by going into this.' + +'You have not told me even now if I am really vain.' + +'If I say Yes, I shall offend you; if I say No, you'll think I +don't mean it,' he replied, looking curiously into her face. + +'Ah, well,' she replied, with a little breath of distress, '"That +which is exceeding deep, who will find it out?" I suppose I must +take you as I do the Bible--find out and understand all I can; and +on the strength of that, swallow the rest in a lump, by simple +faith. Think me vain, if you will. Worldly greatness requires so +much littleness to grow up in, that an infirmity more or less is +not a matter for regret.' + +'As regards women, I can't say,' answered Knight carelessly; 'but +it is without doubt a misfortune for a man who has a living to +get, to be born of a truly noble nature. A high soul will bring a +man to the workhouse; so you may be right in sticking up for +vanity.' + +'No, no, I don't do that,' she said regretfully. + +Mr. Knight, when you are gone, will you send me something you have +written? I think I should like to see whether you write as you +have lately spoken, or in your better mood. Which is your true +self--the cynic you have been this evening, or the nice +philosopher you were up to to-night?' + +'Ah, which? You know as well as I.' + +Their conversation detained them on the lawn and in the portico +till the stars blinked out. Elfride flung back her head, and said +idly-- + +'There's a bright star exactly over me.' + +'Each bright star is overhead somewhere.' + +'Is it? Oh yes, of course. Where is that one?' and she pointed +with her finger. + +'That is poised like a white hawk over one of the Cape Verde +Islands.' + +'And that?' + +'Looking down upon the source of the Nile.' + +'And that lonely quiet-looking one?' + +'He watches the North Pole, and has no less than the whole equator +for his horizon. And that idle one low down upon the ground, that +we have almost rolled away from, is in India--over the head of a +young friend of mine, who very possibly looks at the star in our +zenith, as it hangs low upon his horizon, and thinks of it as +marking where his true love dwells.' + +Elfride glanced at Knight with misgiving. Did he mean her? She +could not see his features; but his attitude seemed to show +unconsciousness. + +'The star is over MY head,' she said with hesitation. + +'Or anybody else's in England.' + +'Oh yes, I see:' she breathed her relief. + +'His parents, I believe, are natives of this county. I don't know +them, though I have been in correspondence with him for many years +till lately. Fortunately or unfortunately for him he fell in +love, and then went to Bombay. Since that time I have heard very +little of him.' + +Knight went no further in his volunteered statement, and though +Elfride at one moment was inclined to profit by the lessons in +honesty he had just been giving her, the flesh was weak, and the +intention dispersed into silence. There seemed a reproach in +Knight's blind words, and yet she was not able to clearly define +any disloyalty that she had been guilty of. + + + +Chapter XX + +'A distant dearness in the hill.' + + +Knight turned his back upon the parish of Endelstow, and crossed +over to Cork. + +One day of absence superimposed itself on another, and +proportionately weighted his heart. He pushed on to the Lakes of +Killarney, rambled amid their luxuriant woods, surveyed the +infinite variety of island, hill, and dale there to be found, +listened to the marvellous echoes of that romantic spot; but +altogether missed the glory and the dream he formerly found in +such favoured regions. + +Whilst in the company of Elfride, her girlish presence had not +perceptibly affected him to any depth. He had not been conscious +that her entry into his sphere had added anything to himself; but +now that she was taken away he was very conscious of a great deal +being abstracted. The superfluity had become a necessity, and +Knight was in love. + +Stephen fell in love with Elfride by looking at her: Knight by +ceasing to do so. When or how the spirit entered into him he knew +not: certain he was that when on the point of leaving Endelstow he +had felt none of that exquisite nicety of poignant sadness natural +to such severances, seeing how delightful a subject of +contemplation Elfride had been ever since. Had he begun to love +her when she met his eye after her mishap on the tower? He had +simply thought her weak. Had he grown to love her whilst standing +on the lawn brightened all over by the evening sun? He had thought +her complexion good: no more. Was it her conversation that had +sown the seed? He had thought her words ingenious, and very +creditable to a young woman, but not noteworthy. Had the chess- +playing anything to do with it? Certainly not: he had thought her +at that time a rather conceited child. + +Knight's experience was a complete disproof of the assumption that +love always comes by glances of the eye and sympathetic touches of +the fingers: that, like flame, it makes itself palpable at the +moment of generation. Not till they were parted, and she had +become sublimated in his memory, could he be said to have even +attentively regarded her. + +Thus, having passively gathered up images of her which his mind +did not act upon till the cause of them was no longer before him, +he appeared to himself to have fallen in love with her soul, which +had temporarily assumed its disembodiment to accompany him on his +way. + +She began to rule him so imperiously now that, accustomed to +analysis, he almost trembled at the possible result of the +introduction of this new force among the nicely adjusted ones of +his ordinary life. He became restless: then he forgot all +collateral subjects in the pleasure of thinking about her. + +Yet it must be said that Knight loved philosophically rather than +with romance. + +He thought of her manner towards him. Simplicity verges on +coquetry. Was she flirting? he said to himself. No forcible +translation of favour into suspicion was able to uphold such a +theory. The performance had been too well done to be anything but +real. It had the defects without which nothing is genuine. No +actress of twenty years' standing, no bald-necked lady whose +earliest season 'out' was lost in the discreet mist of evasive +talk, could have played before him the part of ingenuous girl as +Elfride lived it. She had the little artful ways which partly +make up ingenuousness. + +There are bachelors by nature and bachelors by circumstance: +spinsters there doubtless are also of both kinds, though some +think only those of the latter. However, Knight had been looked +upon as a bachelor by nature. What was he coming to? It was very +odd to himself to look at his theories on the subject of love, and +reading them now by the full light of a new experience, to see how +much more his sentences meant than he had felt them to mean when +they were written. People often discover the real force of a +trite old maxim only when it is thrust upon them by a chance +adventure; but Knight had never before known the case of a man who +learnt the full compass of his own epigrams by such means. + +He was intensely satisfied with one aspect of the affair. Inbred +in him was an invincible objection to be any but the first comer +in a woman's heart. He had discovered within himself the +condition that if ever he did make up his mind to marry, it must +be on the certainty that no cropping out of inconvenient old +letters, no bow and blush to a mysterious stranger casually met, +should be a possible source of discomposure. Knight's sentiments +were only the ordinary ones of a man of his age who loves +genuinely, perhaps exaggerated a little by his pursuits. When men +first love as lads, it is with the very centre of their hearts, +nothing else being concerned in the operation. With added years, +more of the faculties attempt a partnership in the passion, till +at Knight's age the understanding is fain to have a hand in it. +It may as well be left out. A man in love setting up his brains +as a gauge of his position is as one determining a ship's +longitude from a light at the mast-head. + +Knight argued from Elfride's unwontedness of manner, which was +matter of fact, to an unwontedness in love, which was matter of +inference only. Incredules les plus credules. 'Elfride,' he +said, 'had hardly looked upon a man till she saw me.' + +He had never forgotten his severity to her because she preferred +ornament to edification, and had since excused her a hundred times +by thinking how natural to womankind was a love of adornment, and +how necessary became a mild infusion of personal vanity to +complete the delicate and fascinating dye of the feminine mind. +So at the end of the week's absence, which had brought him as far +as Dublin, he resolved to curtail his tour, return to Endelstow, +and commit himself by making a reality of the hypothetical offer +of that Sunday evening. + +Notwithstanding that he had concocted a great deal of paper theory +on social amenities and modern manners generally, the special +ounce of practice was wanting, and now for his life Knight could +not recollect whether it was considered correct to give a young +lady personal ornaments before a regular engagement to marry had +been initiated. But the day before leaving Dublin he looked +around anxiously for a high-class jewellery establishment, in +which he purchased what he considered would suit her best. + +It was with a most awkward and unwonted feeling that after +entering and closing the door of his room he sat down, opened the +morocco case, and held up each of the fragile bits of gold-work +before his eyes. Many things had become old to the solitary man +of letters, but these were new, and he handled like a child an +outcome of civilization which had never before been touched by his +fingers. A sudden fastidious decision that the pattern chosen +would not suit her after all caused him to rise in a flurry and +tear down the street to change them for others. After a great +deal of trouble in reselecting, during which his mind became so +bewildered that the critical faculty on objects of art seemed to +have vacated his person altogether, Knight carried off another +pair of ear-rings. These remained in his possession till the +afternoon, when, after contemplating them fifty times with a +growing misgiving that the last choice was worse than the first, +he felt that no sleep would visit his pillow till he had improved +upon his previous purchases yet again. In a perfect heat of +vexation with himself for such tergiversation, he went anew to the +shop-door, was absolutely ashamed to enter and give further +trouble, went to another shop, bought a pair at an enormously +increased price, because they seemed the very thing, asked the +goldsmiths if they would take the other pair in exchange, was told +that they could not exchange articles bought of another maker, +paid down the money, and went off with the two pairs in his +possession, wondering what on earth to do with the superfluous +pair. He almost wished he could lose them, or that somebody would +steal them, and was burdened with an interposing sense that, as a +capable man, with true ideas of economy, he must necessarily sell +them somewhere, which he did at last for a mere song. Mingled +with a blank feeling of a whole day being lost to him in running +about the city on this new and extraordinary class of errand, and +of several pounds being lost through his bungling, was a slight +sense of satisfaction that he had emerged for ever from his +antediluvian ignorance on the subject of ladies' jewellery, as +well as secured a truly artistic production at last. During the +remainder of that day he scanned the ornaments of every lady he +met with the profoundly experienced eye of an appraiser. + +Next morning Knight was again crossing St. George's Channel--not +returning to London by the Holyhead route as he had originally +intended, but towards Bristol--availing himself of Mr. and Mrs. +Swancourt's invitation to revisit them on his homeward journey. + +We flit forward to Elfride. + +Woman's ruling passion--to fascinate and influence those more +powerful than she--though operant in Elfride, was decidedly +purposeless. She had wanted her friend Knight's good opinion from +the first: how much more than that elementary ingredient of +friendship she now desired, her fears would hardly allow her to +think. In originally wishing to please the highest class of man +she had ever intimately known, there was no disloyalty to Stephen +Smith. She could not--and few women can--realize the possible +vastness of an issue which has only an insignificant begetting. + +Her letters from Stephen were necessarily few, and her sense of +fidelity clung to the last she had received as a wrecked mariner +clings to flotsam. The young girl persuaded herself that she was +glad Stephen had such a right to her hand as he had acquired (in +her eyes) by the elopement. She beguiled herself by saying, +'Perhaps if I had not so committed myself I might fall in love +with Mr. Knight.' + +All this made the week of Knight's absence very gloomy and +distasteful to her. She retained Stephen in her prayers, and his +old letters were re-read--as a medicine in reality, though she +deceived herself into the belief that it was as a pleasure. + +These letters had grown more and more hopeful. He told her that +he finished his work every day with a pleasant consciousness of +having removed one more stone from the barrier which divided them. +Then he drew images of what a fine figure they two would cut some +day. People would turn their heads and say, 'What a prize he has +won!' She was not to be sad about that wild runaway attempt of +theirs (Elfride had repeatedly said that it grieved her). +Whatever any other person who knew of it might think, he knew well +enough the modesty of her nature. The only reproach was a gentle +one for not having written quite so devotedly during her visit to +London. Her letter had seemed to have a liveliness derived from +other thoughts than thoughts of him. + + +Knight's intention of an early return to Endelstow having +originally been faint, his promise to do so had been fainter. He +was a man who kept his words well to the rear of his possible +actions. The vicar was rather surprised to see him again so soon: +Mrs. Swancourt was not. Knight found, on meeting them all, after +his arrival had been announced, that they had formed an intention +to go to St. Leonards for a few days at the end of the month. + +No satisfactory conjuncture offered itself on this first evening +of his return for presenting Elfride with what he had been at such +pains to procure. He was fastidious in his reading of +opportunities for such an intended act. The next morning chancing +to break fine after a week of cloudy weather, it was proposed and +decided that they should all drive to Barwith Strand, a local lion +which neither Mrs. Swancourt nor Knight had seen. Knight scented +romantic occasions from afar, and foresaw that such a one might be +expected before the coming night. + +The journey was along a road by neutral green hills, upon which +hedgerows lay trailing like ropes on a quay. Gaps in these +uplands revealed the blue sea, flecked with a few dashes of white +and a solitary white sail, the whole brimming up to a keen horizon +which lay like a line ruled from hillside to hillside. Then they +rolled down a pass, the chocolate-toned rocks forming a wall on +both sides, from one of which fell a heavy jagged shade over half +the roadway. A spout of fresh water burst from an occasional +crevice, and pattering down upon broad green leaves, ran along as +a rivulet at the bottom. Unkempt locks of heather overhung the +brow of each steep, whence at divers points a bramble swung forth +into mid-air, snatching at their head-dresses like a claw. + +They mounted the last crest, and the bay which was to be the end +of their pilgrimage burst upon them. The ocean blueness deepened +its colour as it stretched to the foot of the crags, where it +terminated in a fringe of white--silent at this distance, though +moving and heaving like a counterpane upon a restless sleeper. +The shadowed hollows of the purple and brown rocks would have been +called blue had not that tint been so entirely appropriated by the +water beside them. + +The carriage was put up at a little cottage with a shed attached, +and an ostler and the coachman carried the hamper of provisions +down to the shore. + +Knight found his opportunity. 'I did not forget your wish,' he +began, when they were apart from their friends. + +Elfride looked as if she did not understand. + +'And I have brought you these,' he continued, awkwardly pulling +out the case, and opening it while holding it towards her. + +'O Mr. Knight!' said Elfride confusedly, and turning to a lively +red; 'I didn't know you had any intention or meaning in what you +said. I thought it a mere supposition. I don't want them.' + +A thought which had flashed into her mind gave the reply a greater +decisiveness than it might otherwise have possessed. To-morrow +was the day for Stephen's letter. + +'But will you not accept them?' Knight returned, feeling less her +master than heretofore. + +'I would rather not. They are beautiful--more beautiful than any +I have ever seen,' she answered earnestly, looking half-wishfully +at the temptation, as Eve may have looked at the apple. 'But I +don't want to have them, if you will kindly forgive me, Mr. +Knight.' + +'No kindness at all,' said Mr. Knight, brought to a full stop at +this unexpected turn of events. + +A silence followed. Knight held the open case, looking rather +wofully at the glittering forms he had forsaken his orbit to +procure; turning it about and holding it up as if, feeling his +gift to be slighted by her, he were endeavouring to admire it very +much himself. + +'Shut them up, and don't let me see them any longer--do!' she said +laughingly, and with a quaint mixture of reluctance and entreaty. + +'Why, Elfie?' + +'Not Elfie to you, Mr. Knight. Oh, because I shall want them. +There, I am silly, I know, to say that! But I have a reason for +not taking them--now.' She kept in the last word for a moment, +intending to imply that her refusal was finite, but somehow the +word slipped out, and undid all the rest. + +'You will take them some day?' + +'I don't want to.' + +'Why don't you want to, Elfride Swancourt?' + +'Because I don't. I don't like to take them.' + +'I have read a fact of distressing significance in that,' said +Knight. 'Since you like them, your dislike to having them must be +towards me?' + +'No, it isn't.' + +'What, then? Do you like me?' + +Elfride deepened in tint, and looked into the distance with +features shaped to an expression of the nicest criticism as +regarded her answer. + +'I like you pretty well,' she at length murmured mildly. + +'Not very much?' + +'You are so sharp with me, and say hard things, and so how can I?' +she replied evasively. + +'You think me a fogey, I suppose?' + +'No, I don't--I mean I do--I don't know what I think you, I mean. +Let us go to papa,' responded Elfride, with somewhat of a flurried +delivery. + +'Well, I'll tell you my object in getting the present,' said +Knight, with a composure intended to remove from her mind any +possible impression of his being what he was--her lover. 'You see +it was the very least I could do in common civility.' + +Elfride felt rather blank at this lucid statement. + +Knight continued, putting away the case: 'I felt as anybody +naturally would have, you know, that my words on your choice the +other day were invidious and unfair, and thought an apology should +take a practical shape.' + +'Oh yes.' + +Elfride was sorry--she could not tell why--that he gave such a +legitimate reason. It was a disappointment that he had all the +time a cool motive, which might be stated to anybody without +raising a smile. Had she known they were offered in that spirit, +she would certainly have accepted the seductive gift. And the +tantalizing feature was that perhaps he suspected her to imagine +them offered as a lover's token, which was mortifying enough if +they were not. + +Mrs. Swancourt came now to where they were sitting, to select a +flat boulder for spreading their table-cloth upon, and, amid the +discussion on that subject, the matter pending between Knight and +Elfride was shelved for a while. He read her refusal so certainly +as the bashfulness of a girl in a novel position, that, upon the +whole, he could tolerate such a beginning. Could Knight have been +told that it was a sense of fidelity struggling against new love, +whilst no less assuring as to his ultimate victory, it might have +entirely abstracted the wish to secure it. + +At the same time a slight constraint of manner was visible between +them for the remainder of the afternoon. The tide turned, and +they were obliged to ascend to higher ground. The day glided on +to its end with the usual quiet dreamy passivity of such +occasions--when every deed done and thing thought is in +endeavouring to avoid doing and thinking more. Looking idly over +the verge of a crag, they beheld their stone dining-table +gradually being splashed upon and their crumbs and fragments all +washed away by the incoming sea. The vicar drew a moral lesson +from the scene; Knight replied in the same satisfied strain. And +then the waves rolled in furiously--the neutral green-and-blue +tongues of water slid up the slopes, and were metamorphosed into +foam by a careless blow, falling back white and faint, and leaving +trailing followers behind. + +The passing of a heavy shower was the next scene--driving them to +shelter in a shallow cave--after which the horses were put in, and +they started to return homeward. By the time they reached the +higher levels the sky had again cleared, and the sunset rays +glanced directly upon the wet uphill road they had climbed. The +ruts formed by their carriage-wheels on the ascent--a pair of +Liliputian canals--were as shining bars of gold, tapering to +nothing in the distance. Upon this also they turned their backs, +and night spread over the sea. + +The evening was chilly, and there was no moon. Knight sat close +to Elfride, and, when the darkness rendered the position of a +person a matter of uncertainty, particularly close. Elfride edged +away. + +'I hope you allow me my place ungrudgingly?' he whispered. + +'Oh yes; 'tis the least I can do in common civility,' she said, +accenting the words so that he might recognize them as his own +returned. + +Both of them felt delicately balanced between two possibilities. +Thus they reached home. + +To Knight this mild experience was delightful. It was to him a +gentle innocent time--a time which, though there may not be much +in it, seldom repeats itself in a man's life, and has a peculiar +dearness when glanced at retrospectively. He is not +inconveniently deep in love, and is lulled by a peaceful sense of +being able to enjoy the most trivial thing with a childlike +enjoyment. The movement of a wave, the colour of a stone, +anything, was enough for Knight's drowsy thoughts of that day to +precipitate themselves upon. Even the sermonizing platitudes the +vicar had delivered himself of--chiefly because something seemed +to be professionally required of him in the presence of a man of +Knight's proclivities--were swallowed whole. The presence of +Elfride led him not merely to tolerate that kind of talk from the +necessities of ordinary courtesy; but he listened to it--took in +the ideas with an enjoyable make-believe that they were proper and +necessary, and indulged in a conservative feeling that the face of +things was complete. + +Entering her room that evening Elfride found a packet for herself +on the dressing-table. How it came there she did not know. She +tremblingly undid the folds of white paper that covered it. Yes; +it was the treasure of a morocco case, containing those treasures +of ornament she had refused in the daytime. + +Elfride dressed herself in them for a moment, looked at herself in +the glass, blushed red, and put them away. They filled her dreams +all that night. Never had she seen anything so lovely, and never +was it more clear that as an honest woman she was in duty bound to +refuse them. Why it was not equally clear to her that duty +required more vigorous co-ordinate conduct as well, let those who +dissect her say. + +The next morning glared in like a spectre upon her. It was +Stephen's letter-day, and she was bound to meet the postman--to +stealthily do a deed she had never liked, to secure an end she now +had ceased to desire. + +But she went. + +There were two letters. + +One was from the bank at St. Launce's, in which she had a small +private deposit--probably something about interest. She put that +in her pocket for a moment, and going indoors and upstairs to be +safer from observation, tremblingly opened Stephen's. + +What was this he said to her? + +She was to go to the St. Launce's Bank and take a sum of money +which they had received private advices to pay her. + +The sum was two hundred pounds. + +There was no check, order, or anything of the nature of guarantee. +In fact the information amounted to this: the money was now in the +St. Launce's Bank, standing in her name. + +She instantly opened the other letter. It contained a deposit- +note from the bank for the sum of two hundred pounds which had +that day been added to her account. Stephen's information, then, +was correct, and the transfer made. + +'I have saved this in one year,' Stephen's letter went on to say, +'and what so proper as well as pleasant for me to do as to hand it +over to you to keep for your use? I have plenty for myself, +independently of this. Should you not be disposed to let it lie +idle in the bank, get your father to invest it in your name on +good security. It is a little present to you from your more than +betrothed. He will, I think, Elfride, feel now that my +pretensions to your hand are anything but the dream of a silly boy +not worth rational consideration.' + +With a natural delicacy, Elfride, in mentioning her father's +marriage, had refrained from all allusion to the pecuniary +resources of the lady. + +Leaving this matter-of-fact subject, he went on, somewhat after +his boyish manner: + +'Do you remember, darling, that first morning of my arrival at +your house, when your father read at prayers the miracle of +healing the sick of the palsy--where he is told to take up his bed +and walk? I do, and I can now so well realize the force of that +passage. The smallest piece of mat is the bed of the Oriental, +and yesterday I saw a native perform the very action, which +reminded me to mention it. But you are better read than I, and +perhaps you knew all this long ago....One day I bought some small +native idols to send home to you as curiosities, but afterwards +finding they had been cast in England, made to look old, and +shipped over, I threw them away in disgust. + +'Speaking of this reminds me that we are obliged to import all our +house-building ironwork from England. Never was such foresight +required to be exercised in building houses as here. Before we +begin, we have to order every column, lock, hinge, and screw that +will be required. We cannot go into the next street, as in +London, and get them cast at a minute's notice. Mr. L. says +somebody will have to go to England very soon and superintend the +selection of a large order of this kind. I only wish I may be the +man.' + +There before her lay the deposit-receipt for the two hundred +pounds, and beside it the elegant present of Knight. Elfride grew +cold--then her cheeks felt heated by beating blood. If by +destroying the piece of paper the whole transaction could have +been withdrawn from her experience, she would willingly have +sacrificed the money it represented. She did not know what to do +in either case. She almost feared to let the two articles lie in +juxtaposition: so antagonistic were the interests they represented +that a miraculous repulsion of one by the other was almost to be +expected. + +That day she was seen little of. By the evening she had come to a +resolution, and acted upon it. The packet was sealed up--with a +tear of regret as she closed the case upon the pretty forms it +contained--directed, and placed upon the writing-table in Knight's +room. And a letter was written to Stephen, stating that as yet +she hardly understood her position with regard to the money sent; +but declaring that she was ready to fulfil her promise to marry +him. After this letter had been written she delayed posting it-- +although never ceasing to feel strenuously that the deed must be +done. + +Several days passed. There was another Indian letter for Elfride. +Coming unexpectedly, her father saw it, but made no remark--why, +she could not tell. The news this time was absolutely +overwhelming. Stephen, as he had wished, had been actually chosen +as the most fitting to execute the iron-work commission he had +alluded to as impending. This duty completed he would have three +months' leave. His letter continued that he should follow it in a +week, and should take the opportunity to plainly ask her father to +permit the engagement. Then came a page expressive of his delight +and hers at the reunion; and finally, the information that he +would write to the shipping agents, asking them to telegraph and +tell her when the ship bringing him home should be in sight-- +knowing how acceptable such information would be. + +Elfride lived and moved now as in a dream. Knight had at first +become almost angry at her persistent refusal of his offering--and +no less with the manner than the fact of it. But he saw that she +began to look worn and ill--and his vexation lessened to simple +perplexity. + +He ceased now to remain in the house for long hours together as +before, but made it a mere centre for antiquarian and geological +excursions in the neighbourhood. Throw up his cards and go away +he fain would have done, but could not. And, thus, availing +himself of the privileges of a relative, he went in and out the +premises as fancy led him--but still lingered on. + +'I don't wish to stay here another day if my presence is +distasteful,' he said one afternoon. 'At first you used to imply +that I was severe with you; and when I am kind you treat me +unfairly.' + +'No, no. Don't say so.' + +The origin of their acquaintanceship had been such as to render +their manner towards each other peculiar and uncommon. It was of +a kind to cause them to speak out their minds on any feelings of +objection and difference: to be reticent on gentler matters. + +'I have a good mind to go away and never trouble you again,' +continued Knight. + +She said nothing, but the eloquent expression of her eyes and wan +face was enough to reproach him for harshness. + +'Do you like me to be here, then?' inquired Knight gently. + +'Yes,' she said. Fidelity to the old love and truth to the new +were ranged on opposite sides, and truth virtuelessly prevailed. + +'Then I'll stay a little longer,' said Knight. + +'Don't be vexed if I keep by myself a good deal, will you? Perhaps +something may happen, and I may tell you something.' + +'Mere coyness,' said Knight to himself; and went away with a +lighter heart. The trick of reading truly the enigmatical forces +at work in women at given times, which with some men is an +unerring instinct, is peculiar to minds less direct and honest +than Knight's. + +The next evening, about five o'clock, before Knight had returned +from a pilgrimage along the shore, a man walked up to the house. +He was a messenger from Camelton, a town a few miles off, to which +place the railway had been advanced during the summer. + +'A telegram for Miss Swancourt, and three and sixpence to pay for +the special messenger.' Miss Swancourt sent out the money, signed +the paper, and opened her letter with a trembling hand. She read: + + +'Johnson, Liverpool, to Miss Swancourt, Endelstow, near Castle +Boterel. + +'Amaryllis telegraphed off Holyhead, four o'clock. Expect will +dock and land passengers at Canning's Basin ten o'clock to-morrow +morning.' + + +Her father called her into the study. + +'Elfride, who sent you that message?' he asked suspiciously. + +'Johnson.' +'Who is Johnson, for Heaven's sake?' + +'I don't know.' + +'The deuce you don't! Who is to know, then?' + +'I have never heard of him till now.' + +'That's a singular story, isn't it.' + +'I don't know.' + +'Come, come, miss! What was the telegram?' + +'Do you really wish to know, papa?' + +'Well, I do.' + +'Remember, I am a full-grown woman now.' + +'Well, what then?' + +'Being a woman, and not a child, I may, I think, have a secret or +two.' + +'You will, it seems.' + +'Women have, as a rule.' + +'But don't keep them. So speak out.' + +'If you will not press me now, I give my word to tell you the +meaning of all this before the week is past.' + +'On your honour?' + +'On my honour.' + +'Very well. I have had a certain suspicion, you know; and I shall +be glad to find it false. I don't like your manner lately.' + +'At the end of the week, I said, papa.' + +Her father did not reply, and Elfride left the room. + +She began to look out for the postman again. Three mornings later +he brought an inland letter from Stephen. It contained very +little matter, having been written in haste; but the meaning was +bulky enough. Stephen said that, having executed a commission in +Liverpool, he should arrive at his father's house, East Endelstow, +at five or six o'clock that same evening; that he would after dusk +walk on to the next village, and meet her, if she would, in the +church porch, as in the old time. He proposed this plan because +he thought it unadvisable to call formally at her house so late in +the evening; yet he could not sleep without having seen her. The +minutes would seem hours till he clasped her in his arms. + +Elfride was still steadfast in her opinion that honour compelled +her to meet him. Probably the very longing to avoid him lent +additional weight to the conviction; for she was markedly one of +those who sigh for the unattainable--to whom, superlatively, a +hope is pleasing because not a possession. And she knew it so +well that her intellect was inclined to exaggerate this defect in +herself. + +So during the day she looked her duty steadfastly in the face; +read Wordsworth's astringent yet depressing ode to that Deity; +committed herself to her guidance; and still felt the weight of +chance desires. + +But she began to take a melancholy pleasure in contemplating the +sacrifice of herself to the man whom a maidenly sense of propriety +compelled her to regard as her only possible husband. She would +meet him, and do all that lay in her power to marry him. To guard +against a relapse, a note was at once despatched to his father's +cottage for Stephen on his arrival, fixing an hour for the +interview. + + + +Chapter XXI + +'On thy cold grey stones, O sea!' + + +Stephen had said that he should come by way of Bristol, and thence +by a steamer to Castle Boterel, in order to avoid the long journey +over the hills from St. Launce's. He did not know of the +extension of the railway to Camelton. + +During the afternoon a thought occurred to Elfride, that from any +cliff along the shore it would be possible to see the steamer some +hours before its arrival. + +She had accumulated religious force enough to do an act of +supererogation. The act was this--to go to some point of land and +watch for the ship that brought her future husband home. + +It was a cloudy afternoon. Elfride was often diverted from a +purpose by a dull sky; and though she used to persuade herself +that the weather was as fine as possible on the other side of the +clouds, she could not bring about any practical result from this +fancy. Now, her mood was such that the humid sky harmonized with +it. + +Having ascended and passed over a hill behind the house, Elfride +came to a small stream. She used it as a guide to the coast. It +was smaller than that in her own valley, and flowed altogether at +a higher level. Bushes lined the slopes of its shallow trough; +but at the bottom, where the water ran, was a soft green carpet, +in a strip two or three yards wide. + +In winter, the water flowed over the grass; in summer, as now, it +trickled along a channel in the midst. + +Elfride had a sensation of eyes regarding her from somewhere. She +turned, and there was Mr. Knight. He had dropped into the valley +from the side of the hill. She felt a thrill of pleasure, and +rebelliously allowed it to exist. + +'What utter loneliness to find you in!' + +'I am going to the shore by tracking the stream. I believe it +empties itself not far off, in a silver thread of water, over a +cascade of great height.' + +'Why do you load yourself with that heavy telescope?' + +'To look over the sea with it,' she said faintly. + +'I'll carry it for you to your journey's end.' And he took the +glass from her unresisting hands. 'It cannot be half a mile +further. See, there is the water.' He pointed to a short fragment +of level muddy-gray colour, cutting against the sky. + +Elfride had already scanned the small surface of ocean visible, +and had seen no ship. + +They walked along in company, sometimes with the brook between +them--for it was no wider than a man's stride--sometimes close +together. The green carpet grew swampy, and they kept higher up. + +One of the two ridges between which they walked dwindled lower and +became insignificant. That on the right hand rose with their +advance, and terminated in a clearly defined edge against the +light, as if it were abruptly sawn off. A little further, and the +bed of the rivulet ended in the same fashion. + +They had come to a bank breast-high, and over it the valley was no +longer to be seen. It was withdrawn cleanly and completely. In +its place was sky and boundless atmosphere; and perpendicularly +down beneath them--small and far off--lay the corrugated surface +of the Atlantic. + +The small stream here found its death. Running over the precipice +it was dispersed in spray before it was half-way down, and falling +like rain upon projecting ledges, made minute grassy meadows of +them. At the bottom the water-drops soaked away amid the debris +of the cliff. This was the inglorious end of the river. + +'What are you looking for? said Knight, following the direction of +her eyes. + +She was gazing hard at a black object--nearer to the shore than to +the horizon--from the summit of which came a nebulous haze, +stretching like gauze over the sea. + +'The Puffin, a little summer steamboat--from Bristol to Castle +Boterel,' she said. 'I think that is it--look. Will you give me +the glass?' + +Knight pulled open the old-fashioned but powerful telescope, and +handed it to Elfride, who had looked on with heavy eyes. + +'I can't keep it up now,' she said. + +'Rest it on my shoulder.' + +'It is too high.' + +'Under my arm.' + +'Too low. You may look instead,' she murmured weakly. + +Knight raised the glass to his eye, and swept the sea till the +Puffin entered its field. + +'Yes, it is the Puffin--a tiny craft. I can see her figure-head +distinctly--a bird with a beak as big as its head.' + +'Can you see the deck?' + +"Wait a minute; yes, pretty clearly. And I can see the black +forms of the passengers against its white surface. One of them +has taken something from another--a glass, I think--yes, it is-- +and he is levelling it in this direction. Depend upon it we are +conspicuous objects against the sky to them. Now, it seems to +rain upon them, and they put on overcoats and open umbrellas. +They vanish and go below--all but that one who has borrowed the +glass. He is a slim young fellow, and still watches us.' + +Elfride grew pale, and shifted her little feet uneasily. + +Knight lowered the glass. + +'I think we had better return,' he said. 'That cloud which is +raining on them may soon reach us. Why, you look ill. How is +that?' + +'Something in the air affects my face.' + +'Those fair cheeks are very fastidious, I fear,' returned Knight +tenderly. 'This air would make those rosy that were never so +before, one would think--eh, Nature's spoilt child?' + +Elfride's colour returned again. + +'There is more to see behind us, after all,' said Knight. + +She turned her back upon the boat and Stephen Smith, and saw, +towering still higher than themselves, the vertical face of the +hill on the right, which did not project seaward so far as the bed +of the valley, but formed the back of a small cove, and so was +visible like a concave wall, bending round from their position +towards the left. + +The composition of the huge hill was revealed to its backbone and +marrow here at its rent extremity. It consisted of a vast +stratification of blackish-gray slate, unvaried in its whole +height by a single change of shade. + +It is with cliffs and mountains as with persons; they have what is +called a presence, which is not necessarily proportionate to their +actual bulk. A little cliff will impress you powerfully; a great +one not at all. It depends, as with man, upon the countenance of +the cliff. + +'I cannot bear to look at that cliff,' said Elfride. 'It has a +horrid personality, and makes me shudder. We will go.' + +'Can you climb?' said Knight. 'If so, we will ascend by that path +over the grim old fellow's brow.' + +'Try me,' said Elfride disdainfully. 'I have ascended steeper +slopes than that.' + +From where they had been loitering, a grassy path wound along +inside a bank, placed as a safeguard for unwary pedestrians, to +the top of the precipice, and over it along the hill in an inland +direction. + +'Take my arm, Miss Swancourt,' said Knight. + +'I can get on better without it, thank you.' + +When they were one quarter of the way up, Elfride stopped to take +breath. Knight stretched out his hand. + +She took it, and they ascended the remaining slope together. +Reaching the very top, they sat down to rest by mutual consent. + +'Heavens, what an altitude!' said Knight between his pants, and +looking far over the sea. The cascade at the bottom of the slope +appeared a mere span in height from where they were now. + +Elfride was looking to the left. The steamboat was in full view +again, and by reason of the vast surface of sea their higher +position uncovered it seemed almost close to the shore. + +'Over that edge,' said Knight, 'where nothing but vacancy appears, +is a moving compact mass. The wind strikes the face of the rock, +runs up it, rises like a fountain to a height far above our heads, +curls over us in an arch, and disperses behind us. In fact, an +inverted cascade is there--as perfect as the Niagara Falls--but +rising instead of falling, and air instead of water. Now look +here.' + +Knight threw a stone over the bank, aiming it as if to go onward +over the cliff. Reaching the verge, it towered into the air like +a bird, turned back, and alighted on the ground behind them. They +themselves were in a dead calm. + +'A boat crosses Niagara immediately at the foot of the falls, +where the water is quite still, the fallen mass curving under it. +We are in precisely the same position with regard to our +atmospheric cataract here. If you run back from the cliff fifty +yards, you will be in a brisk wind. Now I daresay over the bank +is a little backward current.' + +Knight rose and leant over the bank. No sooner was his head above +it than his hat appeared to be sucked from his head--slipping over +his forehead in a seaward direction. + +'That's the backward eddy, as I told you,' he cried, and vanished +over the little bank after his hat. + +Elfride waited one minute; he did not return. She waited another, +and there was no sign of him. + +A few drops of rain fell, then a sudden shower. + +She arose, and looked over the bank. On the other side were two +or three yards of level ground--then a short steep preparatory +slope--then the verge of the precipice. + +On the slope was Knight, his hat on his head. He was on his hands +and knees, trying to climb back to the level ground. The rain had +wetted the shaly surface of the incline. A slight superficial +wetting of the soil hereabout made it far more slippery to stand +on than the same soil thoroughly drenched. The inner substance +was still hard, and was lubricated by the moistened film. + +'I find a difficulty in getting back,' said Knight. + +Elfride's heart fell like lead. + +'But you can get back?' she wildly inquired. + +Knight strove with all his might for two or three minutes, and the +drops of perspiration began to bead his brow. + +'No, I am unable to do it,' he answered. + +Elfride, by a wrench of thought, forced away from her mind the +sensation that Knight was in bodily danger. But attempt to help +him she must. She ventured upon the treacherous incline, propped +herself with the closed telescope, and gave him her hand before he +saw her movements. + +'O Elfride! why did you?' said he. 'I am afraid you have only +endangered yourself.' + +And as if to prove his statement, in making an endeavour by her +assistance they both slipped lower, and then he was again stayed. +His foot was propped by a bracket of quartz rock, balanced on the +verge of the precipice. Fixed by this, he steadied her, her head +being about a foot below the beginning of the slope. Elfride had +dropped the glass; it rolled to the edge and vanished over it into +a nether sky. + +'Hold tightly to me,' he said. + +She flung her arms round his neck with such a firm grasp that +whilst he remained it was impossible for her to fall. + +'Don't be flurried,' Knight continued. 'So long as we stay above +this block we are perfectly safe. Wait a moment whilst I consider +what we had better do.' + +He turned his eyes to the dizzy depths beneath them, and surveyed +the position of affairs. + +Two glances told him a tale with ghastly distinctness. It was +that, unless they performed their feat of getting up the slope +with the precision of machines, they were over the edge and +whirling in mid-air. + +For this purpose it was necessary that he should recover the +breath and strength which his previous efforts had cost him. So +he still waited, and looked in the face of the enemy. + +The crest of this terrible natural facade passed among the +neighbouring inhabitants as being seven hundred feet above the +water it overhung. It had been proved by actual measurement to be +not a foot less than six hundred and fifty. + +That is to say, it is nearly three times the height of +Flamborough, half as high again as the South Foreland, a hundred +feet higher than Beachy Head--the loftiest promontory on the east +or south side of this island--twice the height of St. Aldhelm's, +thrice as high as the Lizard, and just double the height of St. +Bee's. One sea-bord point on the western coast is known to +surpass it in altitude, but only by a few feet. This is Great +Orme's Head, in Caernarvonshire. + +And it must be remembered that the cliff exhibits an intensifying +feature which some of those are without--sheer perpendicularity +from the half-tide level. + +Yet this remarkable rampart forms no headland: it rather walls in +an inlet--the promontory on each side being much lower. Thus, far +from being salient, its horizontal section is concave. The sea, +rolling direct from the shores of North America, has in fact eaten +a chasm into the middle of a hill, and the giant, embayed and +unobtrusive, stands in the rear of pigmy supporters. Not least +singularly, neither hill, chasm, nor precipice has a name. On +this account I will call the precipice the Cliff without a Name.* + +* See Preface + +What gave an added terror to its height was its blackness. And +upon this dark face the beating of ten thousand west winds had +formed a kind of bloom, which had a visual effect not unlike that +of a Hambro' grape. Moreover it seemed to float off into the +atmosphere, and inspire terror through the lungs. + +'This piece of quartz, supporting my feet, is on the very nose of +the cliff,' said Knight, breaking the silence after his rigid +stoical meditation. 'Now what you are to do is this. Clamber up +my body till your feet are on my shoulders: when you are there you +will, I think, be able to climb on to level ground.' + +'What will you do?' + +'Wait whilst you run for assistance.' + +'I ought to have done that in the first place, ought I not?' + +'I was in the act of slipping, and should have reached no stand- +point without your weight, in all probability. But don't let us +talk. Be brave, Elfride, and climb.' + +She prepared to ascend, saying, 'This is the moment I anticipated +when on the tower. I thought it would come!' + +'This is not a time for superstition,' said Knight. 'Dismiss all +that.' + +'I will,' she said humbly. + +'Now put your foot into my hand: next the other. That's good-- +well done. Hold to my shoulder.' + +She placed her feet upon the stirrup he made of his hand, and was +high enough to get a view of the natural surface of the hill over +the bank. + +'Can you now climb on to level ground?' + +'I am afraid not. I will try.' + +'What can you see?' + +'The sloping common.' + +'What upon it?' + +'Purple heather and some grass.' + +'Nothing more--no man or human being of any kind?' + +'Nobody.' + +'Now try to get higher in this way. You see that tuft of sea-pink +above you. Get that well into your hand, but don't trust to it +entirely. Then step upon my shoulder, and I think you will reach +the top.' + +With trembling limbs she did exactly as he told her. The +preternatural quiet and solemnity of his manner overspread upon +herself, and gave her a courage not her own. She made a spring +from the top of his shoulder, and was up. + +Then she turned to look at him. + +By an ill fate, the force downwards of her bound, added to his own +weight, had been too much for the block of quartz upon which his +feet depended. It was, indeed, originally an igneous protrusion +into the enormous masses of black strata, which had since been +worn away from the sides of the alien fragment by centuries of +frost and rain, and now left it without much support. + +It moved. Knight seized a tuft of sea-pink with each hand. + +The quartz rock which had been his salvation was worse than +useless now. It rolled over, out of sight, and away into the same +nether sky that had engulfed the telescope. + +One of the tufts by which he held came out at the root, and Knight +began to follow the quartz. It was a terrible moment. Elfride +uttered a low wild wail of agony, bowed her head, and covered her +face with her hands. + +Between the turf-covered slope and the gigantic perpendicular rock +intervened a weather-worn series of jagged edges, forming a face +yet steeper than the former slope. As he slowly slid inch by inch +upon these, Knight made a last desperate dash at the lowest tuft +of vegetation--the last outlying knot of starved herbage ere the +rock appeared in all its bareness. It arrested his further +descent. Knight was now literally suspended by his arms; but the +incline of the brow being what engineers would call about a +quarter in one, it was sufficient to relieve his arms of a portion +of his weight, but was very far from offering an adequately flat +face to support him. + +In spite of this dreadful tension of body and mind, Knight found +time for a moment of thankfulness. Elfride was safe. + +She lay on her side above him--her fingers clasped. Seeing him +again steady, she jumped upon her feet. + +'Now, if I can only save you by running for help!' she cried. +'Oh, I would have died instead! Why did you try so hard to deliver +me?' And she turned away wildly to run for assistance. + +'Elfride, how long will it take you to run to Endelstow and back?' + +'Three-quarters of an hour.' + +'That won't do; my hands will not hold out ten minutes. And is +there nobody nearer?' + +'No; unless a chance passer may happen to be.' + +'He would have nothing with him that could save me. Is there a +pole or stick of any kind on the common?' + +She gazed around. The common was bare of everything but heather +and grass. + +A minute--perhaps more time--was passed in mute thought by both. +On a sudden the blank and helpless agony left her face. She +vanished over the bank from his sight. + +Knight felt himself in the presence of a personalized lonliness. + + + +Chapter XXII + +'A woman's way.' + + +Haggard cliffs, of every ugly altitude, are as common as sea-fowl +along the line of coast between Exmoor and Land's End; but this +outflanked and encompassed specimen was the ugliest of them all. +Their summits are not safe places for scientific experiment on the +principles of air-currents, as Knight had now found, to his +dismay. + +He still clutched the face of the escarpment--not with the +frenzied hold of despair, but with a dogged determination to make +the most of his every jot of endurance, and so give the longest +possible scope to Elfride's intentions, whatever they might be. + +He reclined hand in hand with the world in its infancy. Not a +blade, not an insect, which spoke of the present, was between him +and the past. The inveterate antagonism of these black precipices +to all strugglers for life is in no way more forcibly suggested +than by the paucity of tufts of grass, lichens, or confervae on +their outermost ledges. + +Knight pondered on the meaning of Elfride's hasty disappearance, +but could not avoid an instinctive conclusion that there existed +but a doubtful hope for him. As far as he could judge, his sole +chance of deliverance lay in the possibility of a rope or pole +being brought; and this possibility was remote indeed. The soil +upon these high downs was left so untended that they were +unenclosed for miles, except by a casual bank or dry wall, and +were rarely visited but for the purpose of collecting or counting +the flock which found a scanty means of subsistence thereon. + +At first, when death appeared improbable, because it had never +visited him before, Knight could think of no future, nor of +anything connected with his past. He could only look sternly at +Nature's treacherous attempt to put an end to him, and strive to +thwart her. + +From the fact that the cliff formed the inner face of the segment +of a huge cylinder, having the sky for a top and the sea for a +bottom, which enclosed the cove to the extent of more than a +semicircle, he could see the vertical face curving round on each +side of him. He looked far down the facade, and realized more +thoroughly how it threatened him. Grimness was in every feature, +and to its very bowels the inimical shape was desolation. + +By one of those familiar conjunctions of things wherewith the +inanimate world baits the mind of man when he pauses in moments of +suspense, opposite Knight's eyes was an imbedded fossil, standing +forth in low relief from the rock. It was a creature with eyes. +The eyes, dead and turned to stone, were even now regarding him. +It was one of the early crustaceans called Trilobites. Separated +by millions of years in their lives, Knight and this underling +seemed to have met in their death. It was the single instance +within reach of his vision of anything that had ever been alive +and had had a body to save, as he himself had now. + +The creature represented but a low type of animal existence, for +never in their vernal years had the plains indicated by those +numberless slaty layers been traversed by an intelligence worthy +of the name. Zoophytes, mollusca, shell-fish, were the highest +developments of those ancient dates. The immense lapses of time +each formation represented had known nothing of the dignity of +man. They were grand times, but they were mean times too, and +mean were their relics. He was to be with the small in his death. + +Knight was a geologist; and such is the supremacy of habit over +occasion, as a pioneer of the thoughts of men, that at this +dreadful juncture his mind found time to take in, by a momentary +sweep, the varied scenes that had had their day between this +creature's epoch and his own. There is no place like a cleft +landscape for bringing home such imaginings as these. + +Time closed up like a fan before him. He saw himself at one +extremity of the years, face to face with the beginning and all +the intermediate centuries simultaneously. Fierce men, clothed in +the hides of beasts, and carrying, for defence and attack, huge +clubs and pointed spears, rose from the rock, like the phantoms +before the doomed Macbeth. They lived in hollows, woods, and mud +huts--perhaps in caves of the neighbouring rocks. Behind them +stood an earlier band. No man was there. Huge elephantine forms, +the mastodon, the hippopotamus, the tapir, antelopes of monstrous +size, the megatherium, and the myledon--all, for the moment, in +juxtaposition. Further back, and overlapped by these, were +perched huge-billed birds and swinish creatures as large as +horses. Still more shadowy were the sinister crocodilian +outlines--alligators and other uncouth shapes, culminating in the +colossal lizard, the iguanodon. Folded behind were dragon forms +and clouds of flying reptiles: still underneath were fishy beings +of lower development; and so on, till the lifetime scenes of the +fossil confronting him were a present and modern condition of +things. These images passed before Knight's inner eye in less +than half a minute, and he was again considering the actual +present. Was he to die? The mental picture of Elfride in the +world, without himself to cherish her, smote his heart like a +whip. He had hoped for deliverance, but what could a girl do? He +dared not move an inch. Was Death really stretching out his hand? +The previous sensation, that it was improbable he would die, was +fainter now. + +However, Knight still clung to the cliff. + +To those musing weather-beaten West-country folk who pass the +greater part of their days and nights out of doors, Nature seems +to have moods in other than a poetical sense: predilections for +certain deeds at certain times, without any apparent law to govern +or season to account for them. She is read as a person with a +curious temper; as one who does not scatter kindnesses and +cruelties alternately, impartially, and in order, but heartless +severities or overwhelming generosities in lawless caprice. Man's +case is always that of the prodigal's favourite or the miser's +pensioner. In her unfriendly moments there seems a feline fun in +her tricks, begotten by a foretaste of her pleasure in swallowing +the victim. + +Such a way of thinking had been absurd to Knight, but he began to +adopt it now. He was first spitted on to a rock. New tortures +followed. The rain increased, and persecuted him with an +exceptional persistency which he was moved to believe owed its +cause to the fact that he was in such a wretched state already. +An entirely new order of things could be observed in this +introduction of rain upon the scene. It rained upwards instead of +down. The strong ascending air carried the rain-drops with it in +its race up the escarpment, coming to him with such velocity that +they stuck into his flesh like cold needles. Each drop was +virtually a shaft, and it pierced him to his skin. The water- +shafts seemed to lift him on their points: no downward rain ever +had such a torturing effect. In a brief space he was drenched, +except in two places. These were on the top of his shoulders and +on the crown of his hat. + +The wind, though not intense in other situations was strong here. +It tugged at his coat and lifted it. We are mostly accustomed to +look upon all opposition which is not animate, as that of the +stolid, inexorable hand of indifference, which wears out the +patience more than the strength. Here, at any rate, hostility did +not assume that slow and sickening form. It was a cosmic agency, +active, lashing, eager for conquest: determination; not an +insensate standing in the way. + +Knight had over-estimated the strength of his hands. They were +getting weak already. 'She will never come again; she has been +gone ten minutes,' he said to himself. + +This mistake arose from the unusual compression of his experiences +just now: she had really been gone but three. + +'As many more minutes will be my end,' he thought. + +Next came another instance of the incapacity of the mind to make +comparisons at such times. + +'This is a summer afternoon,' he said, 'and there can never have +been such a heavy and cold rain on a summer day in my life +before.' + +He was again mistaken. The rain was quite ordinary in quantity; +the air in temperature. It was, as is usual, the menacing +attitude in which they approached him that magnified their powers. + +He again looked straight downwards, the wind and the water-dashes +lifting his moustache, scudding up his cheeks, under his eyelids, +and into his eyes. This is what he saw down there: the surface of +the sea--visually just past his toes, and under his feet; actually +one-eighth of a mile, or more than two hundred yards, below them. +We colour according to our moods the objects we survey. The sea +would have been a deep neutral blue, had happier auspices attended +the gazer it was now no otherwise than distinctly black to his +vision. That narrow white border was foam, he knew well; but its +boisterous tosses were so distant as to appear a pulsation only, +and its plashing was barely audible. A white border to a black +sea--his funeral pall and its edging. + +The world was to some extent turned upside down for him. Rain +descended from below. Beneath his feet was aerial space and the +unknown; above him was the firm, familiar ground, and upon it all +that he loved best. + +Pitiless nature had then two voices, and two only. The nearer was +the voice of the wind in his ears rising and falling as it mauled +and thrust him hard or softly. The second and distant one was the +moan of that unplummetted ocean below and afar--rubbing its +restless flank against the Cliff without a Name. + +Knight perseveringly held fast. Had he any faith in Elfride? +Perhaps. Love is faith, and faith, like a gathered flower, will +rootlessly live on. + +Nobody would have expected the sun to shine on such an evening as +this. Yet it appeared, low down upon the sea. Not with its +natural golden fringe, sweeping the furthest ends of the +landscape, not with the strange glare of whiteness which it +sometimes puts on as an alternative to colour, but as a splotch of +vermilion red upon a leaden ground--a red face looking on with a +drunken leer. + +Most men who have brains know it, and few are so foolish as to +disguise this fact from themselves or others, even though an +ostentatious display may be called self-conceit. Knight, without +showing it much, knew that his intellect was above the average. +And he thought--he could not help thinking--that his death would +be a deliberate loss to earth of good material; that such an +experiment in killing might have been practised upon some less +developed life. + +A fancy some people hold, when in a bitter mood, is that +inexorable circumstance only tries to prevent what intelligence +attempts. Renounce a desire for a long-contested position, and go +on another tack, and after a while the prize is thrown at you, +seemingly in disappointment that no more tantalizing is possible. + +Knight gave up thoughts of life utterly and entirely, and turned +to contemplate the Dark Valley and the unknown future beyond. +Into the shadowy depths of these speculations we will not follow +him. Let it suffice to state what ensued. + +At that moment of taking no more thought for this life, something +disturbed the outline of the bank above him. A spot appeared. It +was the head of Elfride. + +Knight immediately prepared to welcome life again. + +The expression of a face consigned to utter loneliness, when a +friend first looks in upon it, is moving in the extreme. In +rowing seaward to a light-ship or sea-girt lighthouse, where, +without any immediate terror of death, the inmates experience the +gloom of monotonous seclusion, the grateful eloquence of their +countenances at the greeting, expressive of thankfulness for the +visit, is enough to stir the emotions of the most careless +observer. + +Knight's upward look at Elfride was of a nature with, but far +transcending, such an instance as this. The lines of his face had +deepened to furrows, and every one of them thanked her visibly. +His lips moved to the word 'Elfride,' though the emotion evolved +no sound. His eyes passed all description in their combination of +the whole diapason of eloquence, from lover's deep love to fellow- +man's gratitude for a token of remembrance from one of his kind. + +Elfride had come back. What she had come to do he did not know. +She could only look on at his death, perhaps. Still, she had come +back, and not deserted him utterly, and it was much. + +It was a novelty in the extreme to see Henry Knight, to whom +Elfride was but a child, who had swayed her as a tree sways a +bird's nest, who mastered her and made her weep most bitterly at +her own insignificance, thus thankful for a sight of her face. +She looked down upon him, her face glistening with rain and tears. +He smiled faintly. + +'How calm he is!' she thought. 'How great and noble he is to be +so calm!' She would have died ten times for him then. + +The gliding form of the steamboat caught her eye: she heeded it no +longer. + +'How much longer can you wait?' came from her pale lips and along +the wind to his position. + +'Four minutes,' said Knight in a weaker voice than her own. + +'But with a good hope of being saved?' + +'Seven or eight.' + +He now noticed that in her arms she bore a bundle of white linen, +and that her form was singularly attenuated. So preternaturally +thin and flexible was Elfride at this moment, that she appeared to +bend under the light blows of the rain-shafts, as they struck into +her sides and bosom, and splintered into spray on her face. There +is nothing like a thorough drenching for reducing the +protuberances of clothes, but Elfride's seemed to cling to her +like a glove. + +Without heeding the attack of the clouds further than by raising +her hand and wiping away the spirts of rain when they went more +particularly into her eyes, she sat down and hurriedly began +rending the linen into strips. These she knotted end to end, and +afterwards twisted them like the strands of a cord. In a short +space of time she had formed a perfect rope by this means, six or +seven yards long. + +'Can you wait while I bind it?' she said, anxiously extending her +gaze down to him. + +'Yes, if not very long. Hope has given me a wonderful instalment +of strength.' + +Elfride dropped her eyes again, tore the remaining material into +narrow tape-like ligaments, knotted each to each as before, but on +a smaller scale, and wound the lengthy string she had thus formed +round and round the linen rope, which, without this binding, had a +tendency to spread abroad. + +'Now,' said Knight, who, watching the proceedings intently, had by +this time not only grasped her scheme, but reasoned further on, 'I +can hold three minutes longer yet. And do you use the time in +testing the strength of the knots, one by one.' + +She at once obeyed, tested each singly by putting her foot on the +rope between each knot, and pulling with her hands. One of the +knots slipped. + +'Oh, think! It would have broken but for your forethought,' +Elfride exclaimed apprehensively. + +She retied the two ends. The rope was now firm in every part. + +'When you have let it down,' said Knight, already resuming his +position of ruling power, 'go back from the edge of the slope, and +over the bank as far as the rope will allow you. Then lean down, +and hold the end with both hands.' + +He had first thought of a safer plan for his own deliverance, but +it involved the disadvantage of possibly endangering her life. + +'I have tied it round my waist,' she cried, 'and I will lean +directly upon the bank, holding with my hands as well.' + +It was the arrangement he had thought of, but would not suggest. + +'I will raise and drop it three times when I am behind the bank,' +she continued, 'to signify that I am ready. Take care, oh, take +the greatest care, I beg you!' + +She dropped the rope over him, to learn how much of its length it +would be necessary to expend on that side of the bank, went back, +and disappeared as she had done before. + +The rope was trailing by Knight's shoulders. In a few moments it +twitched three times. + +He waited yet a second or two, then laid hold. + +The incline of this upper portion of the precipice, to the length +only of a few feet, useless to a climber empty-handed, was +invaluable now. Not more than half his weight depended entirely +on the linen rope. Half a dozen extensions of the arms, +alternating with half a dozen seizures of the rope with his feet, +brought him up to the level of the soil. + +He was saved, and by Elfride. + +He extended his cramped limbs like an awakened sleeper, and sprang +over the bank. + +At sight of him she leapt to her feet with almost a shriek of joy. +Knight's eyes met hers, and with supreme eloquence the glance of +each told a long-concealed tale of emotion in that short half- +moment. Moved by an impulse neither could resist, they ran +together and into each other's arms. + +At the moment of embracing, Elfride's eyes involuntarily flashed +towards the Puffin steamboat. It had doubled the point, and was +no longer to be seen. + +An overwhelming rush of exultation at having delivered the man she +revered from one of the most terrible forms of death, shook the +gentle girl to the centre of her soul. It merged in a defiance of +duty to Stephen, and a total recklessness as to plighted faith. +Every nerve of her will was now in entire subjection to her +feeling--volition as a guiding power had forsaken her. To remain +passive, as she remained now, encircled by his arms, was a +sufficiently complete result--a glorious crown to all the years of +her life. Perhaps he was only grateful, and did not love her. No +matter: it was infinitely more to be even the slave of the greater +than the queen of the less. Some such sensation as this, though +it was not recognized as a finished thought, raced along the +impressionable soul of Elfride. + +Regarding their attitude, it was impossible for two persons to go +nearer to a kiss than went Knight and Elfride during those minutes +of impulsive embrace in the pelting rain. Yet they did not kiss. +Knight's peculiarity of nature was such that it would not allow +him to take advantage of the unguarded and passionate avowal she +had tacitly made. + +Elfride recovered herself, and gently struggled to be free. + +He reluctantly relinquished her, and then surveyed her from crown +to toe. She seemed as small as an infant. He perceived whence +she had obtained the rope. + +'Elfride, my Elfride!' he exclaimed in gratified amazement. + +'I must leave you now,' she said, her face doubling its red, with +an expression between gladness and shame 'You follow me, but at +some distance.' + +'The rain and wind pierce you through; the chill will kill you. +God bless you for such devotion! Take my coat and put it on.' + +'No; I shall get warm running.' + +Elfride had absolutely nothing between her and the weather but her +exterior robe or 'costume.' The door had been made upon a woman's +wit, and it had found its way out. Behind the bank, whilst Knight +reclined upon the dizzy slope waiting for death, she had taken off +her whole clothing, and replaced only her outer bodice and skirt. +Every thread of the remainder lay upon the ground in the form of a +woollen and cotton rope. + +'I am used to being wet through,' she added. 'I have been +drenched on Pansy dozens of times. Good-bye till we meet, clothed +and in our right minds, by the fireside at home!' + +She then ran off from him through the pelting rain like a hare; or +more like a pheasant when, scampering away with a lowered tail, it +has a mind to fly, but does not. Elfride was soon out of sight. + +Knight felt uncomfortably wet and chilled, but glowing with +fervour nevertheless. He fully appreciated Elfride's girlish +delicacy in refusing his escort in the meagre habiliments she +wore, yet felt that necessary abstraction of herself for a short +half-hour as a most grievous loss to him. + +He gathered up her knotted and twisted plumage of linen, lace, and +embroidery work, and laid it across his arm. He noticed on the +ground an envelope, limp and wet. In endeavouring to restore this +to its proper shape, he loosened from the envelope a piece of +paper it had contained, which was seized by the wind in falling +from Knight's hand. It was blown to the right, blown to the left-- +it floated to the edge of the cliff and over the sea, where it +was hurled aloft. It twirled in the air, and then flew back over +his head. + +Knight followed the paper, and secured it. Having done so, he +looked to discover if it had been worth securing. + +The troublesome sheet was a banker's receipt for two hundred +pounds, placed to the credit of Miss Swancourt, which the +impractical girl had totally forgotten she carried with her. + +Knight folded it as carefully as its moist condition would allow, +put it in his pocket, and followed Elfride. + + + +Chapter XXIII + +'Should auld acquaintance be forgot?' + + +By this time Stephen Smith had stepped out upon the quay at Castle +Boterel, and breathed his native air. + +A darker skin, a more pronounced moustache, and an incipient +beard, were the chief additions and changes noticeable in his +appearance. + +In spite of the falling rain, which had somewhat lessened, he took +a small valise in his hand, and, leaving the remainder of his +luggage at the inn, ascended the hills towards East Endelstow. +This place lay in a vale of its own, further inland than the west +village, and though so near it, had little of physical feature in +common with the latter. East Endelstow was more wooded and +fertile: it boasted of Lord Luxellian's mansion and park, and was +free from those bleak open uplands which lent such an air of +desolation to the vicinage of the coast--always excepting the +small valley in which stood the vicarage and Mrs. Swancourt's old +house, The Crags. + +Stephen had arrived nearly at the summit of the ridge when the +rain again increased its volume, and, looking about for temporary +shelter, he ascended a steep path which penetrated dense hazel +bushes in the lower part of its course. Further up it emerged +upon a ledge immediately over the turnpike-road, and sheltered by +an overhanging face of rubble rock, with bushes above. For a +reason of his own he made this spot his refuge from the storm, and +turning his face to the left, conned the landscape as a book. + +He was overlooking the valley containing Elfride's residence. + +From this point of observation the prospect exhibited the +peculiarity of being either brilliant foreground or the subdued +tone of distance, a sudden dip in the surface of the country +lowering out of sight all the intermediate prospect. In apparent +contact with the trees and bushes growing close beside him +appeared the distant tract, terminated suddenly by the brink of +the series of cliffs which culminated in the tall giant without a +name--small and unimportant as here beheld. A leaf on a bough at +Stephen's elbow blotted out a whole hill in the contrasting +district far away; a green bunch of nuts covered a complete upland +there, and the great cliff itself was outvied by a pigmy crag in +the bank hard by him. Stephen had looked upon these things +hundreds of times before to-day, but he had never viewed them with +such tenderness as now. + +Stepping forward in this direction yet a little further, he could +see the tower of West Endelstow Church, beneath which he was to +meet his Elfride that night. And at the same time he noticed, +coming over the hill from the cliffs, a white speck in motion. It +seemed first to be a sea-gull flying low, but ultimately proved to +be a human figure, running with great rapidity. The form flitted +on, heedless of the rain which had caused Stephen's halt in this +place, dropped down the heathery hill, entered the vale, and was +out of sight. + +Whilst he meditated upon the meaning of this phenomenon, he was +surprised to see swim into his ken from the same point of +departure another moving speck, as different from the first as +well could be, insomuch that it was perceptible only by its +blackness. Slowly and regularly it took the same course, and +there was not much doubt that this was the form of a man. He, +too, gradually descended from the upper levels, and was lost in +the valley below. + +The rain had by this time again abated, and Stephen returned to +the road. Looking ahead, he saw two men and a cart. They were +soon obscured by the intervention of a high hedge. Just before +they emerged again he heard voices in conversation. + +''A must soon be in the naibourhood, too, if so be he's a-coming,' +said a tenor tongue, which Stephen instantly recognized as Martin +Cannister's. + +''A must 'a b'lieve,' said another voice--that of Stephen's +father. + +Stephen stepped forward, and came before them face to face. His +father and Martin were walking, dressed in their second best +suits, and beside them rambled along a grizzel horse and brightly +painted spring-cart. + +'All right, Mr. Cannister; here's the lost man!' exclaimed young +Smith, entering at once upon the old style of greeting. 'Father, +here I am.' + +'All right, my sonny; and glad I be for't!' returned John Smith, +overjoyed to see the young man. 'How be ye? Well, come along +home, and don't let's bide out here in the damp. Such weather +must be terrible bad for a young chap just come from a fiery +nation like Indy; hey, naibour Cannister?' + +'Trew, trew. And about getting home his traps? Boxes, monstrous +bales, and noble packages of foreign description, I make no +doubt?' + +'Hardly all that,' said Stephen laughing. + +'We brought the cart, maning to go right on to Castle Boterel +afore ye landed,' said his father. '"Put in the horse," says +Martin. "Ay," says I, "so we will;" and did it straightway. Now, +maybe, Martin had better go on wi' the cart for the things, and +you and I walk home-along.' + +'And I shall be back a'most as soon as you. Peggy is a pretty +step still, though time d' begin to tell upon her as upon the rest +o' us.' + +Stephen told Martin where to find his baggage, and then continued +his journey homeward in the company of his father. + +'Owing to your coming a day sooner than we first expected,' said +John, 'you'll find us in a turk of a mess, sir--"sir," says I to +my own son! but ye've gone up so, Stephen. We've killed the pig +this morning for ye, thinking ye'd be hungry, and glad of a morsel +of fresh mate. And 'a won't be cut up till to-night. However, we +can make ye a good supper of fry, which will chaw up well wi' a +dab o' mustard and a few nice new taters, and a drop of shilling +ale to wash it down. Your mother have scrubbed the house through +because ye were coming, and dusted all the chimmer furniture, and +bought a new basin and jug of a travelling crockery-woman that +came to our door, and scoured the cannel-sticks, and claned the +winders! Ay, I don't know what 'a ha'n't a done. Never were such +a steer, 'a b'lieve.' + +Conversation of this kind and inquiries of Stephen for his +mother's wellbeing occupied them for the remainder of the journey. +When they drew near the river, and the cottage behind it, they +could hear the master-mason's clock striking off the bygone hours +of the day at intervals of a quarter of a minute, during which +intervals Stephen's imagination readily pictured his mother's +forefinger wandering round the dial in company with the minute- +hand. + +'The clock stopped this morning, and your mother in putting en +right seemingly,' said his father in an explanatory tone; and they +went up the garden to the door. + +When they had entered, and Stephen had dutifully and warmly +greeted his mother--who appeared in a cotton dress of a dark-blue +ground, covered broadcast with a multitude of new and full moons, +stars, and planets, with an occasional dash of a comet-like aspect +to diversify the scene--the crackle of cart-wheels was heard +outside, and Martin Cannister stamped in at the doorway, in the +form of a pair of legs beneath a great box, his body being nowhere +visible. When the luggage had been all taken down, and Stephen +had gone upstairs to change his clothes, Mrs. Smith's mind seemed +to recover a lost thread. + +'Really our clock is not worth a penny,' she said, turning to it +and attempting to start the pendulum. + +'Stopped again?' inquired Martin with commiseration. + +'Yes, sure,' replied Mrs. Smith; and continued after the manner of +certain matrons, to whose tongues the harmony of a subject with a +casual mood is a greater recommendation than its pertinence to the +occasion, 'John would spend pounds a year upon the jimcrack old +thing, if he might, in having it claned, when at the same time you +may doctor it yourself as well. "The clock's stopped again, +John," I say to him. "Better have en claned," says he. There's +five shillings. "That clock grinds again," I say to en. "Better +have en claned," 'a says again. "That clock strikes wrong, John," +says I. "Better have en claned," he goes on. The wheels would +have been polished to skeletons by this time if I had listened to +en, and I assure you we could have bought a chainey-faced beauty +wi' the good money we've flung away these last ten years upon this +old green-faced mortal. And, Martin, you must be wet. My son is +gone up to change. John is damper than I should like to be, but +'a calls it nothing. Some of Mrs. Swancourt's servants have been +here--they ran in out of the rain when going for a walk--and I +assure you the state of their bonnets was frightful.' + +'How's the folks? We've been over to Castle Boterel, and what wi' +running and stopping out of the storms, my poor head is beyond +everything! fizz, fizz fizz; 'tis frying o' fish from morning to +night,' said a cracked voice in the doorway at this instant. + +'Lord so's, who's that?' said Mrs. Smith, in a private +exclamation, and turning round saw William Worm, endeavouring to +make himself look passing civil and friendly by overspreading his +face with a large smile that seemed to have no connection with the +humour he was in. Behind him stood a woman about twice his size, +with a large umbrella over her head. This was Mrs. Worm, +William's wife. + +'Come in, William,' said John Smith. 'We don't kill a pig every +day. And you, likewise, Mrs. Worm. I make ye welcome. Since ye +left Parson Swancourt, William, I don't see much of 'ee.' + +'No, for to tell the truth, since I took to the turn-pike-gate +line, I've been out but little, coming to church o' Sundays not +being my duty now, as 'twas in a parson's family, you see. +However, our boy is able to mind the gate now, and I said, says I, +"Barbara, let's call and see John Smith."' + +'I am sorry to hear yer pore head is so bad still.' + +'Ay, I assure you that frying o' fish is going on for nights and +days. And, you know, sometimes 'tisn't only fish, but rashers o' +bacon and inions. Ay, I can hear the fat pop and fizz as nateral +as life; can't I, Barbara?' + +Mrs. Worm, who had been all this time engaged in closing her +umbrella, corroborated this statement, and now, coming indoors, +showed herself to be a wide-faced, comfortable-looking woman, with +a wart upon her cheek, bearing a small tuft of hair in its centre. + +'Have ye ever tried anything to cure yer noise, Maister Worm?' +inquired Martin Cannister. + +'Oh ay; bless ye, I've tried everything. Ay, Providence is a +merciful man, and I have hoped He'd have found it out by this +time, living so many years in a parson's family, too, as I have, +but 'a don't seem to relieve me. Ay, I be a poor wambling man, +and life's a mint o' trouble!' + +'True, mournful true, William Worm. 'Tis so. The world wants +looking to, or 'tis all sixes and sevens wi' us.' + +'Take your things off, Mrs. Worm,' said Mrs. Smith. 'We be rather +in a muddle, to tell the truth, for my son is just dropped in from +Indy a day sooner than we expected, and the pig-killer is coming +presently to cut up.' + +Mrs. Barbara Worm, not wishing to take any mean advantage of +persons in a muddle by observing them, removed her bonnet and +mantle with eyes fixed upon the flowers in the plot outside the +door. + +'What beautiful tiger-lilies!' said Mrs. Worm. + +'Yes, they be very well, but such a trouble to me on account of +the children that come here. They will go eating the berries on +the stem, and call 'em currants. Taste wi' junivals is quite +fancy, really.' + +'And your snapdragons look as fierce as ever.' + +'Well, really,' answered Mrs. Smith, entering didactically into +the subject, 'they are more like Christians than flowers. But +they make up well enough wi' the rest, and don't require much +tending. And the same can be said o' these miller's wheels. 'Tis +a flower I like very much, though so simple. John says he never +cares about the flowers o' 'em, but men have no eye for anything +neat. He says his favourite flower is a cauliflower. And I +assure you I tremble in the springtime, for 'tis perfect murder.' + +'You don't say so, Mrs. Smith!' + +'John digs round the roots, you know. In goes his blundering +spade, through roots, bulbs, everything that hasn't got a good +show above ground, turning 'em up cut all to slices. Only the +very last fall I went to move some tulips, when I found every bulb +upside down, and the stems crooked round. He had turned 'em over +in the spring, and the cunning creatures had soon found that +heaven was not where it used to be.' + +'What's that long-favoured flower under the hedge?' + +'They? O Lord, they are the horrid Jacob's ladders! Instead of +praising 'em, I be mad wi' 'em for being so ready to bide where +they are not wanted. They be very well in their way, but I do not +care for things that neglect won't kill. Do what I will, dig, +drag, scrap, pull, I get too many of 'em. I chop the roots: up +they'll come, treble strong. Throw 'em over hedge; there they'll +grow, staring me in the face like a hungry dog driven away, and +creep back again in a week or two the same as before. 'Tis +Jacob's ladder here, Jacob's ladder there, and plant 'em where +nothing in the world will grow, you get crowds of 'em in a month +or two. John made a new manure mixen last summer, and he said, +"Maria, now if you've got any flowers or such like, that you don't +want, you may plant 'em round my mixen so as to hide it a bit, +though 'tis not likely anything of much value will grow there." I +thought, "There's them Jacob's ladders; I'll put them there, since +they can't do harm in such a place; "and I planted the Jacob's +ladders sure enough. They growed, and they growed, in the mixen +and out of the mixen, all over the litter, covering it quite up. +When John wanted to use it about the garden, 'a said, "Nation +seize them Jacob's ladders of yours, Maria! They've eat the +goodness out of every morsel of my manure, so that 'tis no better +than sand itself!" Sure enough the hungry mortals had. 'Tis my +belief that in the secret souls o' 'em, Jacob's ladders be weeds, +and not flowers at all, if the truth was known.' + +Robert Lickpan, pig-killer and carrier, arrived at this moment. +The fatted animal hanging in the back kitchen was cleft down the +middle of its backbone, Mrs. Smith being meanwhile engaged in +cooking supper. + +Between the cutting and chopping, ale was handed round, and Worm +and the pig-killer listened to John Smith's description of the +meeting with Stephen, with eyes blankly fixed upon the table- +cloth, in order that nothing in the external world should +interrupt their efforts to conjure up the scene correctly. + +Stephen came downstairs in the middle of the story, and after the +little interruption occasioned by his entrance and welcome, the +narrative was again continued, precisely as if he had not been +there at all, and was told inclusively to him, as to somebody who +knew nothing about the matter. + +'"Ay," I said, as I catched sight o' en through the brimbles, +"that's the lad, for I d' know en by his grand-father's walk; "for +'a stapped out like poor father for all the world. Still there +was a touch o' the frisky that set me wondering. 'A got closer, +and I said, "That's the lad, for I d' know en by his carrying a +black case like a travelling man." Still, a road is common to all +the world, and there be more travelling men than one. But I kept +my eye cocked, and I said to Martin, "'Tis the boy, now, for I d' +know en by the wold twirl o' the stick and the family step." Then +'a come closer, and a' said, "All right." I could swear to en +then.' + +Stephen's personal appearance was next criticised. + +'He d' look a deal thinner in face, surely, than when I seed en at +the parson's, and never knowed en, if ye'll believe me,' said +Martin. + +'Ay, there,' said another, without removing his eyes from +Stephen's face, 'I should ha' knowed en anywhere. 'Tis his +father's nose to a T.' + +'It has been often remarked,' said Stephen modestly. + +'And he's certainly taller,' said Martin, letting his glance run +over Stephen's form from bottom to top. + +'I was thinking 'a was exactly the same height,' Worm replied. + +'Bless thy soul, that's because he's bigger round likewise.' And +the united eyes all moved to Stephen's waist. + +'I be a poor wambling man, but I can make allowances,' said +William Worm. 'Ah, sure, and how he came as a stranger and +pilgrim to Parson Swancourt's that time, not a soul knowing en +after so many years! Ay, life's a strange picter, Stephen: but I +suppose I must say Sir to ye?' + +'Oh, it is not necessary at present,' Stephen replied, though +mentally resolving to avoid the vicinity of that familiar friend +as soon as he had made pretensions to the hand of Elfride. + +'Ah, well,' said Worm musingly, 'some would have looked for no +less than a Sir. There's a sight of difference in people.' + +'And in pigs likewise,' observed John Smith, looking at the halved +carcass of his own. + +Robert Lickpan, the pig-killer, here seemed called upon to enter +the lists of conversation. + +'Yes, they've got their particular naters good-now,' he remarked +initially. 'Many's the rum-tempered pig I've knowed.' + +'I don't doubt it, Master Lickpan,' answered Martin, in a tone +expressing that his convictions, no less than good manners, +demanded the reply. + +'Yes,' continued the pig-killer, as one accustomed to be heard. +'One that I knowed was deaf and dumb, and we couldn't make out +what was the matter wi' the pig. 'A would eat well enough when 'a +seed the trough, but when his back was turned, you might a-rattled +the bucket all day, the poor soul never heard ye. Ye could play +tricks upon en behind his back, and a' wouldn't find it out no +quicker than poor deaf Grammer Cates. But a' fatted well, and I +never seed a pig open better when a' was killed, and 'a was very +tender eating, very; as pretty a bit of mate as ever you see; you +could suck that mate through a quill. + +'And another I knowed,' resumed the killer, after quietly letting +a pint of ale run down his throat of its own accord, and setting +down the cup with mathematical exactness upon the spot from which +he had raised it--'another went out of his mind.' + +'How very mournful!' murmured Mrs. Worm. + +'Ay, poor thing, 'a did! As clean out of his mind as the cleverest +Christian could go. In early life 'a was very melancholy, and +never seemed a hopeful pig by no means. 'Twas Andrew Stainer's +pig--that's whose pig 'twas.' + +'I can mind the pig well enough,' attested John Smith. + +'And a pretty little porker 'a was. And you all know Farmer +Buckle's sort? Every jack o' em suffer from the rheumatism to this +day, owing to a damp sty they lived in when they were striplings, +as 'twere.' + +'Well, now we'll weigh,' said John. + +'If so be he were not so fine, we'd weigh en whole: but as he is, +we'll take a side at a time. John, you can mind my old joke, ey?' + +'I do so; though 'twas a good few years ago I first heard en.' + +'Yes,' said Lickpan, 'that there old familiar joke have been in +our family for generations, I may say. My father used that joke +regular at pig-killings for more than five and forty years--the +time he followed the calling. And 'a told me that 'a had it from +his father when he was quite a chiel, who made use o' en just the +same at every killing more or less; and pig-killings were pig- +killings in those days.' + +'Trewly they were.' + +'I've never heard the joke,' said Mrs. Smith tentatively. + +'Nor I,' chimed in Mrs. Worm, who, being the only other lady in +the room, felt bound by the laws of courtesy to feel like Mrs. +Smith in everything. + +'Surely, surely you have,' said the killer, looking sceptically at +the benighted females. 'However, 'tisn't much--I don't wish to +say it is. It commences like this: "Bob will tell the weight of +your pig, 'a b'lieve," says I. The congregation of neighbours +think I mane my son Bob, naturally; but the secret is that I mane +the bob o' the steelyard. Ha, ha, ha!' + +'Haw, haw, haw!' laughed Martin Cannister, who had heard the +explanation of this striking story for the hundredth time. + +'Huh, huh, huh!' laughed John Smith, who had heard it for the +thousandth. + +'Hee, hee, hee!' laughed William Worm, who had never heard it at +all, but was afraid to say so. + +'Thy grandfather, Robert, must have been a wide-awake chap to make +that story,' said Martin Cannister, subsiding to a placid aspect +of delighted criticism. + +'He had a head, by all account. And, you see, as the first-born +of the Lickpans have all been Roberts, they've all been Bobs, so +the story was handed down to the present day.' + +'Poor Joseph, your second boy, will never be able to bring it out +in company, which is rather unfortunate,' said Mrs. Worm +thoughtfully. + +''A won't. Yes, grandfer was a clever chap, as ye say; but I +knowed a cleverer. 'Twas my uncle Levi. Uncle Levi made a snuff- +box that should be a puzzle to his friends to open. He used to +hand en round at wedding parties, christenings, funerals, and in +other jolly company, and let 'em try their skill. This +extraordinary snuff-box had a spring behind that would push in and +out--a hinge where seemed to be the cover; a slide at the end, a +screw in front, and knobs and queer notches everywhere. One man +would try the spring, another would try the screw, another would +try the slide; but try as they would, the box wouldn't open. And +they couldn't open en, and they didn't open en. Now what might +you think was the secret of that box?' + +All put on an expression that their united thoughts were +inadequate to the occasion. + +'Why the box wouldn't open at all. 'A were made not to open, and +ye might have tried till the end of Revelations, 'twould have been +as naught, for the box were glued all round.' + +'A very deep man to have made such a box.' + +'Yes. 'Twas like uncle Levi all over.' + +''Twas. I can mind the man very well. Tallest man ever I seed.' + +''A was so. He never slept upon a bedstead after he growed up a +hard boy-chap--never could get one long enough. When 'a lived in +that little small house by the pond, he used to have to leave open +his chamber door every night at going to his bed, and let his feet +poke out upon the landing.' + +'He's dead and gone now, nevertheless, poor man, as we all shall,' +observed Worm, to fill the pause which followed the conclusion of +Robert Lickpan's speech. + +The weighing and cutting up was pursued amid an animated discourse +on Stephen's travels; and at the finish, the first-fruits of the +day's slaughter, fried in onions, were then turned from the pan +into a dish on the table, each piece steaming and hissing till it +reached their very mouths. + +It must be owned that the gentlemanly son of the house looked +rather out of place in the course of this operation. Nor was his +mind quite philosophic enough to allow him to be comfortable with +these old-established persons, his father's friends. He had never +lived long at home--scarcely at all since his childhood. The +presence of William Worm was the most awkward feature of the case, +for, though Worm had left the house of Mr. Swancourt, the being +hand-in-glove with a ci-devant servitor reminded Stephen too +forcibly of the vicar's classification of himself before he went +from England. Mrs. Smith was conscious of the defect in her +arrangements which had brought about the undesired conjunction. +She spoke to Stephen privately. + +'I am above having such people here, Stephen; but what could I do? +And your father is so rough in his nature that he's more mixed up +with them than need be.' + +'Never mind, mother,' said Stephen; 'I'll put up with it now.' + +'When we leave my lord's service, and get further up the country-- +as I hope we shall soon--it will be different. We shall be among +fresh people, and in a larger house, and shall keep ourselves up a +bit, I hope.' + +'Is Miss Swancourt at home, do you know?' Stephen inquired + +'Yes, your father saw her this morning.' + +'Do you often see her?' + +'Scarcely ever. Mr. Glim, the curate, calls occasionally, but the +Swancourts don't come into the village now any more than to drive +through it. They dine at my lord's oftener than they used. Ah, +here's a note was brought this morning for you by a boy.' + +Stephen eagerly took the note and opened it, his mother watching +him. He read what Elfride had written and sent before she started +for the cliff that afternoon: + + +'Yes; I will meet you in the church at nine to-night.--E. S.' + + +'I don't know, Stephen,' his mother said meaningly, 'whe'r you +still think about Miss Elfride, but if I were you I wouldn't +concern about her. They say that none of old Mrs. Swancourt's +money will come to her step-daughter.' + +'I see the evening has turned out fine; I am going out for a +little while to look round the place,' he said, evading the direct +query. 'Probably by the time I return our visitors will be gone, +and we'll have a more confidential talk.' + + + +Chapter XXIV + +'Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour.' + + +The rain had ceased since the sunset, but it was a cloudy night; +and the light of the moon, softened and dispersed by its misty +veil, was distributed over the land in pale gray. + +A dark figure stepped from the doorway of John Smith's river-side +cottage, and strode rapidly towards West Endelstow with a light +footstep. Soon ascending from the lower levels he turned a +corner, followed a cart-track, and saw the tower of the church he +was in quest of distinctly shaped forth against the sky. In less +than half an hour from the time of starting he swung himself over +the churchyard stile. + +The wild irregular enclosure was as much as ever an integral part +of the old hill. The grass was still long, the graves were shaped +precisely as passing years chose to alter them from their orthodox +form as laid down by Martin Cannister, and by Stephen's own +grandfather before him. + +A sound sped into the air from the direction in which Castle +Boterel lay. It was the striking of the church clock, distinct in +the still atmosphere as if it had come from the tower hard by, +which, wrapt in its solitary silentness, gave out no such sounds +of life. + +'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.' Stephen +carefully counted the strokes, though he well knew their number +beforehand. Nine o'clock. It was the hour Elfride had herself +named as the most convenient for meeting him. + +Stephen stood at the door of the porch and listened. He could +have heard the softest breathing of any person within the porch; +nobody was there. He went inside the doorway, sat down upon the +stone bench, and waited with a beating heart. + +The faint sounds heard only accentuated the silence. The rising +and falling of the sea, far away along the coast, was the most +important. A minor sound was the scurr of a distant night-hawk. +Among the minutest where all were minute were the light settlement +of gossamer fragments floating in the air, a toad humbly labouring +along through the grass near the entrance, the crackle of a dead +leaf which a worm was endeavouring to pull into the earth, a waft +of air, getting nearer and nearer, and expiring at his feet under +the burden of a winged seed. + +Among all these soft sounds came not the only soft sound he cared +to hear--the footfall of Elfride. + +For a whole quarter of an hour Stephen sat thus intent, without +moving a muscle. At the end of that time he walked to the west +front of the church. Turning the corner of the tower, a white +form stared him in the face. He started back, and recovered +himself. It was the tomb of young farmer Jethway, looking still +as fresh and as new as when it was first erected, the white stone +in which it was hewn having a singular weirdness amid the dark +blue slabs from local quarries, of which the whole remaining +gravestones were formed. + +He thought of the night when he had sat thereon with Elfride as +his companion, and well remembered his regret that she had +received, even unwillingly, earlier homage than his own. But his +present tangible anxiety reduced such a feeling to sentimental +nonsense in comparison; and he strolled on over the graves to the +border of the churchyard, whence in the daytime could be clearly +seen the vicarage and the present residence of the Swancourts. No +footstep was discernible upon the path up the hill, but a light +was shining from a window in the last-named house. + +Stephen knew there could be no mistake about the time or place, +and no difficulty about keeping the engagement. He waited yet +longer, passing from impatience into a mood which failed to take +any account of the lapse of time. He was awakened from his +reverie by Castle Boterel clock. + +One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, TEN . + +One little fall of the hammer in addition to the number it had +been sharp pleasure to hear, and what a difference to him! + +He left the churchyard on the side opposite to his point of +entrance, and went down the hill. Slowly he drew near the gate of +her house. This he softly opened, and walked up the gravel drive +to the door. Here he paused for several minutes. + +At the expiration of that time the murmured speech of a manly +voice came out to his ears through an open window behind the +corner of the house. This was responded to by a clear soft laugh. +It was the laugh of Elfride. + +Stephen was conscious of a gnawing pain at his heart. He +retreated as he had come. There are disappointments which wring +us, and there are those which inflict a wound whose mark we bear +to our graves. Such are so keen that no future gratification of +the same desire can ever obliterate them: they become registered +as a permanent loss of happiness. Such a one was Stephen's now: +the crowning aureola of the dream had been the meeting here by +stealth; and if Elfride had come to him only ten minutes after he +had turned away, the disappointment would have been recognizable +still. + +When the young man reached home he found there a letter which had +arrived in his absence. Believing it to contain some reason for +her non-appearance, yet unable to imagine one that could justify +her, he hastily tore open the envelope. + +The paper contained not a word from Elfride. It was the deposit- +note for his two hundred pounds. On the back was the form of a +cheque, and this she had filled up with the same sum, payable to +the bearer. + +Stephen was confounded. He attempted to divine her motive. +Considering how limited was his knowledge of her later actions, he +guessed rather shrewdly that, between the time of her sending the +note in the morning and the evening's silent refusal of his gift, +something had occurred which had caused a total change in her +attitude towards him. + +He knew not what to do. It seemed absurd now to go to her father +next morning, as he had purposed, and ask for an engagement with +her, a possibility impending all the while that Elfride herself +would not be on his side. Only one course recommended itself as +wise. To wait and see what the days would bring forth; to go and +execute his commissions in Birmingham; then to return, learn if +anything had happened, and try what a meeting might do; perhaps +her surprise at his backwardness would bring her forward to show +latent warmth as decidedly as in old times. + +This act of patience was in keeping only with the nature of a man +precisely of Stephen's constitution. Nine men out of ten would +perhaps have rushed off, got into her presence, by fair means or +foul, and provoked a catastrophe of some sort. Possibly for the +better, probably for the worse. + +He started for Birmingham the next morning. A day's delay would +have made no difference; but he could not rest until he had begun +and ended the programme proposed to himself. Bodily activity will +sometimes take the sting out of anxiety as completely as assurance +itself. + + + +Chapter XXV + +'Mine own familiar friend.' + + +During these days of absence Stephen lived under alternate +conditions. Whenever his emotions were active, he was in agony. +Whenever he was not in agony, the business in hand had driven out +of his mind by sheer force all deep reflection on the subject of +Elfride and love. + +By the time he took his return journey at the week's end, Stephen +had very nearly worked himself up to an intention to call and see +her face to face. On this occasion also he adopted his favourite +route--by the little summer steamer from Bristol to Castle +Boterel; the time saved by speed on the railway being wasted at +junctions, and in following a devious course. + +It was a bright silent evening at the beginning of September when +Smith again set foot in the little town. He felt inclined to +linger awhile upon the quay before ascending the hills, having +formed a romantic intention to go home by way of her house, yet +not wishing to wander in its neighbourhood till the evening shades +should sufficiently screen him from observation. + +And thus waiting for night's nearer approach, he watched the +placid scene, over which the pale luminosity of the west cast a +sorrowful monochrome, that became slowly embrowned by the dusk. A +star appeared, and another, and another. They sparkled amid the +yards and rigging of the two coal brigs lying alangside, as if +they had been tiny lamps suspended in the ropes. The masts rocked +sleepily to the infinitesimal flux of the tide, which clucked and +gurgled with idle regularity in nooks and holes of the harbour +wall. + +The twilight was now quite pronounced enough for his purpose; and +as, rather sad at heart, he was about to move on, a little boat +containing two persons glided up the middle of the harbour with +the lightness of a shadow. The boat came opposite him, passed on, +and touched the landing-steps at the further end. One of its +occupants was a man, as Stephen had known by the easy stroke of +the oars. When the pair ascended the steps, and came into greater +prominence, he was enabled to discern that the second personage +was a woman; also that she wore a white decoration--apparently a +feather--in her hat or bonnet, which spot of white was the only +distinctly visible portion of her clothing. + +Stephen remained a moment in their rear, and they passed on, when +he pursued his way also, and soon forgot the circumstance. Having +crossed a bridge, forsaken the high road, and entered the footpath +which led up the vale to West Endelstow, he heard a little wicket +click softly together some yards ahead. By the time that Stephen +had reached the wicket and passed it, he heard another click of +precisely the same nature from another gate yet further on. +Clearly some person or persons were preceding him along the path, +their footsteps being rendered noiseless by the soft carpet of +turf. Stephen now walked a little quicker, and perceived two +forms. One of them bore aloft the white feather he had noticed in +the woman's hat on the quay: they were the couple he had seen in +the boat. Stephen dropped a little further to the rear. + +From the bottom of the valley, along which the path had hitherto +lain, beside the margin of the trickling streamlet, another path +now diverged, and ascended the slope of the left-hand hill. This +footway led only to the residence of Mrs. Swancourt and a cottage +or two in its vicinity. No grass covered this diverging path in +portions of its length, and Stephen was reminded that the pair in +front of him had taken this route by the occasional rattle of +loose stones under their feet. Stephen climbed in the same +direction, but for some undefined reason he trod more softly than +did those preceding him. His mind was unconsciously in exercise +upon whom the woman might be--whether a visitor to The Crags, a +servant, or Elfride. He put it to himself yet more forcibly; +could the lady be Elfride? A possible reason for her unaccountable +failure to keep the appointment with him returned with painful +force. + +They entered the grounds of the house by the side wicket, whence +the path, now wide and well trimmed, wound fantastically through +the shrubbery to an octagonal pavilion called the Belvedere, by +reason of the comprehensive view over the adjacent district that +its green seats afforded. The path passed this erection and went +on to the house as well as to the gardener's cottage on the other +side, straggling thence to East Endelstow; so that Stephen felt no +hesitation in entering a promenade which could scarcely be called +private. + +He fancied that he heard the gate open and swing together again +behind him. Turning, he saw nobody. + +The people of the boat came to the summer-house. One of them +spoke. + +'I am afraid we shall get a scolding for being so late.' + +Stephen instantly recognised the familiar voice, richer and fuller +now than it used to be. 'Elfride!' he whispered to himself, and +held fast by a sapling, to steady himself under the agitation her +presence caused him. His heart swerved from its beat; he shunned +receiving the meaning he sought. + +'A breeze is rising again; how the ash tree rustles!' said +Elfride. 'Don't you hear it? I wonder what the time is.' + +Stephen relinquished the sapling. + +I will get a light and tell you. Step into the summer-house; the +air is quiet there.' + +The cadence of that voice--its peculiarity seemed to come home to +him like that of some notes of the northern birds on his return to +his native clime, as an old natural thing renewed, yet not +particularly noticed as natural before that renewal. + +They entered the Belvedere. In the lower part it was formed of +close wood-work nailed crosswise, and had openings in the upper by +way of windows. + +The scratch of a striking light was heard, and a bright glow +radiated from the interior of the building. The light gave birth +to dancing leaf-shadows, stem-shadows, lustrous streaks, dots, +sparkles, and threads of silver sheen of all imaginable variety +and transience. It awakened gnats, which flew towards it, +revealed shiny gossamer threads, disturbed earthworms. Stephen +gave but little attention to these phenomena, and less time. He +saw in the summer-house a strongly illuminated picture. + +First, the face of his friend and preceptor Henry Knight, between +whom and himself an estrangement had arisen, not from any definite +causes beyond those of absence, increasing age, and diverging +sympathies. + +Next, his bright particular star, Elfride. The face of Elfride +was more womanly than when she had called herself his, but as +clear and healthy as ever. Her plenteous twines of beautiful hair +were looking much as usual, with the exception of a slight +modification in their arrangement in deference to the changes of +fashion. + +Their two foreheads were close together, almost touching, and both +were looking down. Elfride was holding her watch, Knight was +holding the light with one hand, his left arm being round her +waist. Part of the scene reached Stephen's eyes through the +horizontal bars of woodwork, which crossed their forms like the +ribs of a skeleton. + +Knight's arm stole still further round the waist of Elfride. + +'It is half-past eight,' she said in a low voice, which had a +peculiar music in it, seemingly born of a thrill of pleasure at +the new proof that she was beloved. + +The flame dwindled down, died away, and all was wrapped in a +darkness to which the gloom before the illumination bore no +comparison in apparent density. Stephen, shattered in spirit and +sick to his heart's centre, turned away. In turning, he saw a +shadowy outline behind the summer-house on the other side. His +eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. Was the form a human form, +or was it an opaque bush of juniper? + +The lovers arose, brushed against the laurestines, and pursued +their way to the house. The indistinct figure had moved, and now +passed across Smith's front. So completely enveloped was the +person, that it was impossible to discern him or her any more than +as a shape. The shape glided noiselessly on. + +Stephen stepped forward, fearing any mischief was intended to the +other two. 'Who are you?' he said. + +'Never mind who I am,' answered a weak whisper from the enveloping +folds. 'WHAT I am, may she be! Perhaps I knew well--ah, so well!-- +a youth whose place you took, as he there now takes yours. Will +you let her break your heart, and bring you to an untimely grave, +as she did the one before you?' + +'You are Mrs. Jethway, I think. What do you do here? And why do +you talk so wildly?' + +'Because my heart is desolate, and nobody cares about it. May +hers be so that brought trouble upon me!' + +'Silence!' said Stephen, staunch to Elfride in spite of himself +'She would harm nobody wilfully, never would she! How do you come +here?' + +'I saw the two coming up the path, and wanted to learn if she were +not one of them. Can I help disliking her if I think of the past? +Can I help watching her if I remember my boy? Can I help ill- +wishing her if I well-wish him?' + +The bowed form went on, passed through the wicket, and was +enveloped by the shadows of the field. + +Stephen had heard that Mrs. Jethway, since the death of her son, +had become a crazed, forlorn woman; and bestowing a pitying +thought upon her, he dismissed her fancied wrongs from his mind, +but not her condemnation of Elfride's faithlessness. That entered +into and mingled with the sensations his new experience had +begotten. The tale told by the little scene he had witnessed ran +parallel with the unhappy woman's opinion, which, however baseless +it might have been antecedently, had become true enough as +regarded himself. + +A slow weight of despair, as distinct from a violent paroxysm as +starvation from a mortal shot, filled him and wrung him body and +soul. The discovery had not been altogether unexpected, for +throughout his anxiety of the last few days since the night in the +churchyard, he had been inclined to construe the uncertainty +unfavourably for himself. His hopes for the best had been but +periodic interruptions to a chronic fear of the worst. + +A strange concomitant of his misery was the singularity of its +form. That his rival should be Knight, whom once upon a time he +had adored as a man is very rarely adored by another in modern +times, and whom he loved now, added deprecation to sorrow, and +cynicism to both. Henry Knight, whose praises he had so +frequently trumpeted in her ears, of whom she had actually been +jealous, lest she herself should be lessened in Stephen's love on +account of him, had probably won her the more easily by reason of +those very praises which he had only ceased to utter by her +command. She had ruled him like a queen in that matter, as in all +others. Stephen could tell by her manner, brief as had been his +observation of it, and by her words, few as they were, that her +position was far different with Knight. That she looked up at and +adored her new lover from below his pedestal, was even more +perceptible than that she had smiled down upon Stephen from a +height above him. + +The suddenness of Elfride's renunciation of himself was food for +more torture. To an unimpassioned outsider, it admitted of at +least two interpretations--it might either have proceeded from an +endeavour to be faithful to her first choice, till the lover seen +absolutely overpowered the lover remembered, or from a wish not to +lose his love till sure of the love of another. But to Stephen +Smith the motive involved in the latter alternative made it +untenable where Elfride was the actor. + +He mused on her letters to him, in which she had never mentioned a +syllable concerning Knight. It is desirable, however, to observe +that only in two letters could she possibly have done so. One was +written about a week before Knight's arrival, when, though she did +not mention his promised coming to Stephen, she had hardly a +definite reason in her mind for neglecting to do it. In the next +she did casually allude to Knight. But Stephen had left Bombay +long before that letter arrived. + +Stephen looked at the black form of the adjacent house, where it +cut a dark polygonal notch out of the sky, and felt that he hated +the spot. He did not know many facts of the case, but could not +help instinctively associating Elfride's fickleness with the +marriage of her father, and their introduction to London society. +He closed the iron gate bounding the shrubbery as noiselessly as +he had opened it, and went into the grassy field. Here he could +see the old vicarage, the house alone that was associated with the +sweet pleasant time of his incipient love for Elfride. Turning +sadly from the place that was no longer a nook in which his +thoughts might nestle when he was far away, he wandered in the +direction of the east village, to reach his father's house before +they retired to rest. + +The nearest way to the cottage was by crossing the park. He did +not hurry. Happiness frequently has reason for haste, but it is +seldom that desolation need scramble or strain. Sometimes he +paused under the low-hanging arms of the trees, looking vacantly +on the ground. + +Stephen was standing thus, scarcely less crippled in thought than +he was blank in vision, when a clear sound permeated the quiet air +about him, and spread on far beyond. The sound was the stroke of +a bell from the tower of East Endelstow Church, which stood in a +dell not forty yards from Lord Luxellian's mansion, and within the +park enclosure. Another stroke greeted his ear, and gave +character to both: then came a slow succession of them. + +'Somebody is dead,' he said aloud. + +The death-knell of an inhabitant of the eastern parish was being +tolled. + +An unusual feature in the tolling was that it had not been begun +according to the custom in Endelstow and other parishes in the +neighbourhood. At every death the sex and age of the deceased +were announced by a system of changes. Three times three strokes +signified that the departed one was a man; three times two, a +woman; twice three, a boy; twice two, a girl. The regular +continuity of the tolling suggested that it was the resumption +rather than the beginning of a knell--the opening portion of which +Stephen had not been near enough to hear. + +The momentary anxiety he had felt with regard to his parents +passed away. He had left them in perfect health, and had any +serious illness seized either, a communication would have reached +him ere this. At the same time, since his way homeward lay under +the churchyard yews, he resolved to look into the belfry in +passing by, and speak a word to Martin Cannister, who would be +there. + +Stephen reached the brow of the hill, and felt inclined to +renounce his idea. His mood was such that talking to any person +to whom he could not unburden himself would be wearisome. +However, before he could put any inclination into effect, the +young man saw from amid the trees a bright light shining, the rays +from which radiated like needles through the sad plumy foliage of +the yews. Its direction was from the centre of the churchyard. + +Stephen mechanically went forward. Never could there be a greater +contrast between two places of like purpose than between this +graveyard and that of the further village. Here the grass was +carefully tended, and formed virtually a part of the manor-house +lawn; flowers and shrubs being planted indiscriminately over both, +whilst the few graves visible were mathematically exact in shape +and smoothness, appearing in the daytime like chins newly shaven. +There was no wall, the division between God's Acre and Lord +Luxellian's being marked only by a few square stones set at +equidistant points. Among those persons who have romantic +sentiments on the subject of their last dwelling-place, probably +the greater number would have chosen such a spot as this in +preference to any other: a few would have fancied a constraint in +its trim neatness, and would have preferred the wild hill-top of +the neighbouring site, with Nature in her most negligent attire. + +The light in the churchyard he next discovered to have its source +in a point very near the ground, and Stephen imagined it might +come from a lantern in the interior of a partly-dug grave. But a +nearer approach showed him that its position was immediately under +the wall of the aisle, and within the mouth of an archway. He +could now hear voices, and the truth of the whole matter began to +dawn upon him. Walking on towards the opening, Smith discerned on +his left hand a heap of earth, and before him a flight of stone +steps which the removed earth had uncovered, leading down under +the edifice. It was the entrance to a large family vault, +extending under the north aisle. + +Stephen had never before seen it open, and descending one or two +steps stooped to look under the arch. The vault appeared to be +crowded with coffins, with the exception of an open central space, +which had been necessarily kept free for ingress and access to the +sides, round three of which the coffins were stacked in stone bins +or niches. + +The place was well lighted with candles stuck in slips of wood +that were fastened to the wall. On making the descent of another +step the living inhabitants of the vault were recognizable. They +were his father the master-mason, an under-mason, Martin +Cannister, and two or three young and old labouring-men. Crowbars +and workmen's hammers were scattered about. The whole company, +sitting round on coffins which had been removed from their places, +apparently for some alteration or enlargement of the vault, were +eating bread and cheese, and drinking ale from a cup with two +handles, passed round from each to each. + +'Who is dead?' Stephen inquired, stepping down. + + + +Chapter XXVI + +'To that last nothing under earth.' + + +All eyes were turned to the entrance as Stephen spoke, and the +ancient-mannered conclave scrutinized him inquiringly. + +'Why, 'tis our Stephen!' said his father, rising from his seat; +and, still retaining the frothy mug in his left hand, he swung +forward his right for a grasp. 'Your mother is expecting ye-- +thought you would have come afore dark. But you'll wait and go +home with me? I have all but done for the day, and was going +directly.' + +'Yes, 'tis Master Stephy, sure enough. Glad to see you so soon +again, Master Smith,' said Martin Cannister, chastening the +gladness expressed in his words by a strict neutrality of +countenance, in order to harmonize the feeling as much as possible +with the solemnity of a family vault. + +'The same to you, Martin; and you, William,' said Stephen, nodding +around to the rest, who, having their mouths full of bread and +cheese, were of necessity compelled to reply merely by compressing +their eyes to friendly lines and wrinkles. + +'And who is dead?' Stephen repeated. + +'Lady Luxellian, poor gentlewoman, as we all shall, said the +under-mason. 'Ay, and we be going to enlarge the vault to make +room for her.' + +'When did she die?' + +'Early this morning,' his father replied, with an appearance of +recurring to a chronic thought. 'Yes, this morning. Martin hev +been tolling ever since, almost. There, 'twas expected. She was +very limber.' + +'Ay, poor soul, this morning,' resumed the under-mason, a +marvellously old man, whose skin seemed so much too large for his +body that it would not stay in position. 'She must know by this +time whether she's to go up or down, poor woman.' + +'What was her age?' + +'Not more than seven or eight and twenty by candlelight. But, +Lord! by day 'a was forty if 'a were an hour.' + +'Ay, night-time or day-time makes a difference of twenty years to +rich feymels,' observed Martin. + +'She was one and thirty really,' said John Smith. 'I had it from +them that know.' + +'Not more than that!' + +''A looked very bad, poor lady. In faith, ye might say she was +dead for years afore 'a would own it.' + +'As my old father used to say, "dead, but wouldn't drop down."' + +'I seed her, poor soul,' said a labourer from behind some removed +coffins, 'only but last Valentine's-day of all the world. 'A was +arm in crook wi' my lord. I says to myself, "You be ticketed +Churchyard, my noble lady, although you don't dream on't."' + +'I suppose my lord will write to all the other lords anointed in +the nation, to let 'em know that she that was is now no more?' + +''Tis done and past. I see a bundle of letters go off an hour +after the death. Sich wonderful black rims as they letters had-- +half-an-inch wide, at the very least.' + +'Too much,' observed Martin. 'In short, 'tis out of the question +that a human being can be so mournful as black edges half-an-inch +wide. I'm sure people don't feel more than a very narrow border +when they feels most of all.' + +'And there are two little girls, are there not?' said Stephen. + +'Nice clane little faces!--left motherless now.' + +'They used to come to Parson Swancourt's to play with Miss Elfride +when I were there,' said William Worm. 'Ah, they did so's!' The +latter sentence was introduced to add the necessary melancholy to +a remark which, intrinsically, could hardly be made to possess +enough for the occasion. 'Yes,' continued Worm, 'they'd run +upstairs, they'd run down; flitting about with her everywhere. +Very fond of her, they were. Ah, well!' + +'Fonder than ever they were of their mother, so 'tis said here and +there,' added a labourer. + +'Well, you see, 'tis natural. Lady Luxellian stood aloof from 'em +so--was so drowsy-like, that they couldn't love her in the jolly- +companion way children want to like folks. Only last winter I +seed Miss Elfride talking to my lady and the two children, and +Miss Elfride wiped their noses for em' SO careful--my lady never +once seeing that it wanted doing; and, naturally, children take to +people that's their best friend.' + +'Be as 'twill, the woman is dead and gone, and we must make a +place for her,' said John. 'Come, lads, drink up your ale, and +we'll just rid this corner, so as to have all clear for beginning +at the wall, as soon as 'tis light to-morrow.' + +Stephen then asked where Lady Luxellian was to lie. + +'Here,' said his father. 'We are going to set back this wall and +make a recess; and 'tis enough for us to do before the funeral. +When my lord's mother died, she said, "John, the place must be +enlarged before another can be put in." But 'a never expected +'twould be wanted so soon. Better move Lord George first, I +suppose, Simeon?' + +He pointed with his foot to a heavy coffin, covered with what had +originally been red velvet, the colour of which could only just be +distinguished now. + +'Just as ye think best, Master John,' replied the shrivelled +mason. 'Ah, poor Lord George!' he continued, looking +contemplatively at the huge coffin; 'he and I were as bitter +enemies once as any could be when one is a lord and t'other only a +mortal man. Poor fellow! He'd clap his hand upon my shoulder and +cuss me as familial and neighbourly as if he'd been a common chap. +Ay, 'a cussed me up hill and 'a cussed me down; and then 'a would +rave out again, and the goold clamps of his fine new teeth would +glisten in the sun like fetters of brass, while I, being a small +man and poor, was fain to say nothing at all. Such a strappen +fine gentleman as he was too! Yes, I rather liked en sometimes. +But once now and then, when I looked at his towering height, I'd +think in my inside, "What a weight you'll be, my lord, for our +arms to lower under the aisle of Endelstow Church some day!"' + +'And was he?' inquired a young labourer. + +'He was. He was five hundredweight if 'a were a pound. What with +his lead, and his oak, and his handles, and his one thing and +t'other'--here the ancient man slapped his hand upon the cover +with a force that caused a rattle among the bones inside--'he half +broke my back when I took his feet to lower en down the steps +there. "Ah," saith I to John there--didn't I, John?--"that ever +one man's glory should be such a weight upon another man!" But +there, I liked my lord George sometimes.' + +''Tis a strange thought,' said another, 'that while they be all +here under one roof, a snug united family o' Luxellians, they be +really scattered miles away from one another in the form of good +sheep and wicked goats, isn't it?' + +'True; 'tis a thought to look at.' + +'And that one, if he's gone upward, don't know what his wife is +doing no more than the man in the moon if she's gone downward. +And that some unfortunate one in the hot place is a-hollering +across to a lucky one up in the clouds, and quite forgetting their +bodies be boxed close together all the time.' + +'Ay, 'tis a thought to look at, too, that I can say "Hullo!" close +to fiery Lord George, and 'a can't hear me.' + +'And that I be eating my onion close to dainty Lady Jane's nose, +and she can't smell me.' + +'What do 'em put all their heads one way for?' inquired a young +man. + +'Because 'tis churchyard law, you simple. The law of the living +is, that a man shall be upright and down-right, and the law of the +dead is, that a man shall be east and west. Every state of society +have its laws.' + +'We must break the law wi' a few of the poor souls, however. +Come, buckle to,' said the master-mason. + +And they set to work anew. + +The order of interment could be distinctly traced by observing the +appearance of the coffins as they lay piled around. On those +which had been standing there but a generation or two the +trappings still remained. Those of an earlier period showed bare +wood, with a few tattered rags dangling therefrom. Earlier still, +the wood lay in fragments on the floor of the niche, and the +coffin consisted of naked lead alone; whilst in the case of the +very oldest, even the lead was bulging and cracking in pieces, +revealing to the curious eye a heap of dust within. The shields +upon many were quite loose, and removable by the hand, their +lustreless surfaces still indistinctly exhibiting the name and +title of the deceased. + +Overhead the groins and concavities of the arches curved in all +directions, dropping low towards the walls, where the height was +no more than sufficient to enable a person to stand upright. + +The body of George the fourteenth baron, together with two or +three others, all of more recent date than the great bulk of +coffins piled there, had, for want of room, been placed at the end +of the vault on tressels, and not in niches like the others. +These it was necessary to remove, to form behind them the chamber +in which they were ultimately to be deposited. Stephen, finding +the place and proceedings in keeping with the sombre colours of +his mind, waited there still. + +'Simeon, I suppose you can mind poor Lady Elfride, and how she ran +away with the actor?' said John Smith, after awhile. 'I think it +fell upon the time my father was sexton here. Let us see--where +is she?' + +'Here somewhere,' returned Simeon, looking round him. + +'Why, I've got my arms round the very gentlewoman at this moment.' +He lowered the end of the coffin he was holding, wiped his face, +and throwing a morsel of rotten wood upon another as an indicator, +continued: 'That's her husband there. They was as fair a couple +as you should see anywhere round about; and a good-hearted pair +likewise. Ay, I can mind it, though I was but a chiel at the +time. She fell in love with this young man of hers, and their +banns were asked in some church in London; and the old lord her +father actually heard 'em asked the three times, and didn't notice +her name, being gabbled on wi' a host of others. When she had +married she told her father, and 'a fleed into a monstrous rage, +and said she shouldn' hae a farthing. Lady Elfride said she +didn't think of wishing it; if he'd forgie her 'twas all she +asked, and as for a living, she was content to play plays with her +husband. This frightened the old lord, and 'a gie'd 'em a house +to live in, and a great garden, and a little field or two, and a +carriage, and a good few guineas. Well, the poor thing died at +her first gossiping, and her husband--who was as tender-hearted a +man as ever eat meat, and would have died for her--went wild in +his mind, and broke his heart (so 'twas said). Anyhow, they were +buried the same day--father and mother--but the baby lived. Ay, +my lord's family made much of that man then, and put him here with +his wife, and there in the corner the man is now. The Sunday +after there was a funeral sermon: the text was, "Or ever the +silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken;" and when +'twas preaching the men drew their hands across their eyes several +times, and every woman cried out loud.' + +'And what became of the baby?' said Stephen, who had frequently +heard portions of the story. + +'She was brought up by her grandmother, and a pretty maid she +were. And she must needs run away with the curate--Parson +Swancourt that is now. Then her grandmother died, and the title +and everything went away to another branch of the family +altogether. Parson Swancourt wasted a good deal of his wife's +money, and she left him Miss Elfride. That trick of running away +seems to be handed down in families, like craziness or gout. And +they two women be alike as peas.' + +'Which two?' + +'Lady Elfride and young Miss that's alive now. The same hair and +eyes: but Miss Elfride's mother was darker a good deal.' + +'Life's a strangle bubble, ye see,' said William Worm musingly. +'For if the Lord's anointment had descended upon women instead of +men, Miss Elfride would be Lord Luxellian--Lady, I mane. But as +it is, the blood is run out, and she's nothing to the Luxellian +family by law, whatever she may be by gospel.' + +'I used to fancy,' said Simeon, 'when I seed Miss Elfride hugging +the little ladyships, that there was a likeness; but I suppose +'twas only my dream, for years must have altered the old family +shape.' + +'And now we'll move these two, and home-along,' interposed John +Smith, reviving, as became a master, the spirit of labour, which +had showed unmistakable signs of being nearly vanquished by the +spirit of chat, 'The flagon of ale we don't want we'll let bide +here till to-morrow; none of the poor souls will touch it 'a +b'lieve.' + +So the evening's work was concluded, and the party drew from the +abode of the quiet dead, closing the old iron door, and shooting +the lock loudly into the huge copper staple--an incongruous act of +imprisonment towards those who had no dreams of escape. + + + +Chapter XXVII + +'How should I greet thee?' + + +Love frequently dies of time alone--much more frequently of +displacement. With Elfride Swancourt, a powerful reason why the +displacement should be successful was that the new-comer was a +greater man than the first. By the side of the instructive and +piquant snubbings she received from Knight, Stephen's general +agreeableness seemed watery; by the side of Knight's spare love- +making, Stephen's continual outflow seemed lackadaisical. She had +begun to sigh for somebody further on in manhood. Stephen was +hardly enough of a man. + +Perhaps there was a proneness to inconstancy in her nature--a +nature, to those who contemplate it from a standpoint beyond the +influence of that inconstancy, the most exquisite of all in its +plasticity and ready sympathies. Partly, too, Stephen's failure +to make his hold on her heart a permanent one was his too timid +habit of dispraising himself beside her--a peculiarity which, +exercised towards sensible men, stirs a kindly chord of attachment +that a marked assertiveness would leave untouched, but inevitably +leads the most sensible woman in the world to undervalue him who +practises it. Directly domineering ceases in the man, snubbing +begins in the woman; the trite but no less unfortunate fact being +that the gentler creature rarely has the capacity to appreciate +fair treatment from her natural complement. The abiding +perception of the position of Stephen's parents had, of course, a +little to do with Elfride's renunciation. To such girls poverty +may not be, as to the more worldly masses of humanity, a sin in +itself; but it is a sin, because graceful and dainty manners +seldom exist in such an atmosphere. Few women of old family can +be thoroughly taught that a fine soul may wear a smock-frock, and +an admittedly common man in one is but a worm in their eyes. John +Smith's rough hands and clothes, his wife's dialect, the necessary +narrowness of their ways, being constantly under Elfride's notice, +were not without their deflecting influence. + +On reaching home after the perilous adventure by the sea-shore, +Knight had felt unwell, and retired almost immediately. The young +lady who had so materially assisted him had done the same, but she +reappeared, properly clothed, about five o'clock. She wandered +restlessly about the house, but not on account of their joint +narrow escape from death. The storm which had torn the tree had +merely bowed the reed, and with the deliverance of Knight all deep +thought of the accident had left her. The mutual avowal which it +had been the means of precipitating occupied a far longer length +of her meditations. + +Elfride's disquiet now was on account of that miserable promise to +meet Stephen, which returned like a spectre again and again. The +perception of his littleness beside Knight grew upon her +alarmingly. She now thought how sound had been her father's +advice to her to give him up, and was as passionately desirous of +following it as she had hitherto been averse. Perhaps there is +nothing more hardening to the tone of young minds than thus to +discover how their dearest and strongest wishes become gradually +attuned by Time the Cynic to the very note of some selfish policy +which in earlier days they despised. + +The hour of appointment came, and with it a crisis; and with the +crisis a collapse. + +'God forgive me--I can't meet Stephen!' she exclaimed to herself. +'I don't love him less, but I love Mr. Knight more!' + +Yes: she would save herself from a man not fit for her--in spite +of vows. She would obey her father, and have no more to do with +Stephen Smith. Thus the fickle resolve showed signs of assuming +the complexion of a virtue. + +The following days were passed without any definite avowal from +Knight's lips. Such solitary walks and scenes as that witnessed +by Smith in the summer-house were frequent, but he courted her so +intangibly that to any but such a delicate perception as Elfride's +it would have appeared no courtship at all. The time now really +began to be sweet with her. She dismissed the sense of sin in her +past actions, and was automatic in the intoxication of the moment. +The fact that Knight made no actual declaration was no drawback. +Knowing since the betrayal of his sentiments that love for her +really existed, she preferred it for the present in its form of +essence, and was willing to avoid for awhile the grosser medium of +words. Their feelings having been forced to a rather premature +demonstration, a reaction was indulged in by both. + +But no sooner had she got rid of her troubled conscience on the +matter of faithlessness than a new anxiety confronted her. It was +lest Knight should accidentally meet Stephen in the parish, and +that herself should be the subject of discourse. + +Elfride, learning Knight more thoroughly, perceived that, far +from having a notion of Stephen's precedence, he had no idea that +she had ever been wooed before by anybody. On ordinary occasions +she had a tongue so frank as to show her whole mind, and a mind so +straightforward as to reveal her heart to its innermost shrine. +But the time for a change had come. She never alluded to even a +knowledge of Knight's friend. When women are secret they are +secret indeed; and more often than not they only begin to be +secret with the advent of a second lover. + +The elopement was now a spectre worse than the first, and, like +the Spirit in Glenfinlas, it waxed taller with every attempt to +lay it. Her natural honesty invited her to confide in Knight, and +trust to his generosity for forgiveness: she knew also that as +mere policy it would be better to tell him early if he was to be +told at all. The longer her concealment the more difficult would +be the revelation. But she put it off. The intense fear which +accompanies intense love in young women was too strong to allow +the exercise of a moral quality antagonistic to itself: + + + 'Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; + Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.' + + +The match was looked upon as made by her father and mother. The +vicar remembered her promise to reveal the meaning of the telegram +she had received, and two days after the scene in the summer- +house, asked her pointedly. She was frank with him now. + +'I had been corresponding with Stephen Smith ever since he left +England, till lately,' she calmly said. + +'What!' cried the vicar aghast; 'under the eyes of Mr. Knight, +too?' + +'No; when I found I cared most for Mr. Knight, I obeyed you.' + +'You were very kind, I'm sure. When did you begin to like Mr. +Knight?' + +'I don't see that that is a pertinent question, papa; the telegram +was from the shipping agent, and was not sent at my request. It +announced the arrival of the vessel bringing him home.' + +'Home! What, is he here?' + +'Yes; in the village, I believe.' + +'Has he tried to see you?' + +'Only by fair means. But don't, papa, question me so! It is +torture.' + +'I will only say one word more,' he replied. 'Have you met him?' + +'I have not. I can assure you that at the present moment there is +no more of an understanding between me and the young man you so +much disliked than between him and you. You told me to forget +him; and I have forgotten him.' + +'Oh, well; though you did not obey me in the beginning, you are a +good girl, Elfride, in obeying me at last.' + +'Don't call me "good," papa,' she said bitterly; 'you don't know-- +and the less said about some things the better. Remember, Mr. +Knight knows nothing about the other. Oh, how wrong it all is! I +don't know what I am coming to.' + +'As matters stand, I should be inclined to tell him; or, at any +rate, I should not alarm myself about his knowing. He found out +the other day that this was the parish young Smith's father lives +in--what puts you in such a flurry?' + +'I can't say; but promise--pray don't let him know! It would be my +ruin!' + +'Pooh, child. Knight is a good fellow and a clever man; but at +the same time it does not escape my perceptions that he is no +great catch for you. Men of his turn of mind are nothing so +wonderful in the way of husbands. If you had chosen to wait, you +might have mated with a much wealthier man. But remember, I have +not a word to say against your having him, if you like him. +Charlotte is delighted, as you know.' + +'Well, papa,' she said, smiling hopefully through a sigh, 'it is +nice to feel that in giving way to--to caring for him, I have +pleased my family. But I am not good; oh no, I am very far from +that!' + +'None of us are good, I am sorry to say,' said her father blandly; +'but girls have a chartered right to change their minds, you know. +It has been recognized by poets from time immemorial. Catullus +says, "Mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, in vento--' What a memory +mine is! However, the passage is, that a woman's words to a lover +are as a matter of course written only on wind and water. Now +don't be troubled about that, Elfride.' + +'Ah, you don't know!' + +They had been standing on the lawn, and Knight was now seen +lingering some way down a winding walk. When Elfride met him, it +was with a much greater lightness of heart; things were more +straightforward now. The responsibility of her fickleness seemed +partly shifted from her own shoulders to her father's. Still, +there were shadows. + +'Ah, could he have known how far I went with Stephen, and yet have +said the same, how much happier I should be!' That was her +prevailing thought. + +In the afternoon the lovers went out together on horseback for an +hour or two; and though not wishing to be observed, by reason of +the late death of Lady Luxellian, whose funeral had taken place +very privately on the previous day, they yet found it necessary to +pass East Endelstow Church. + +The steps to the vault, as has been stated, were on the outside of +the building, immediately under the aisle wall. Being on +horseback, both Knight and Elfride could overlook the shrubs which +screened the church-yard. + +'Look, the vault seems still to be open,' said Knight. + +'Yes, it is open,' she answered + +'Who is that man close by it? The mason, I suppose?' + +'Yes.' + +'I wonder if it is John Smith, Stephen's father?' + +'I believe it is,' said Elfride, with apprehension. + +'Ah, and can it be? I should like to inquire how his son, my +truant protege', is going on. And from your father's description +of the vault, the interior must be interesting. Suppose we go +in.' + +'Had we better, do you think? May not Lord Luxellian be there?' + +'It is not at all likely.' + +Elfride then assented, since she could do nothing else. Her +heart, which at first had quailed in consternation, recovered +itself when she considered the character of John Smith. A quiet +unassuming man, he would be sure to act towards her as before +those love passages with his son, which might have given a more +pretentious mechanic airs. So without much alarm she took +Knight's arm after dismounting, and went with him between and over +the graves. The master-mason recognized her as she approached, +and, as usual, lifted his hat respectfully. + +'I know you to be Mr. Smith, my former friend Stephen's father,' +said Knight, directly he had scanned the embrowned and ruddy +features of John. + +'Yes, sir, I b'lieve I be.' + +'How is your son now? I have only once heard from him since he +went to India. I daresay you have heard him speak of me--Mr. +Knight, who became acquainted with him some years ago in +Exonbury.' + +'Ay, that I have. Stephen is very well, thank you, sir, and he's +in England; in fact, he's at home. In short, sir, he's down in +the vault there, a-looking at the departed coffins.' + +Elfride's heart fluttered like a butterfly. + +Knight looked amazed. 'Well, that is extraordinary.' he murmured. +'Did he know I was in the parish?' + +'I really can't say, sir,' said John, wishing himself out of the +entanglement he rather suspected than thoroughly understood. + +'Would it be considered an intrusion by the family if we went into +the vault?' + +'Oh, bless ye, no, sir; scores of folk have been stepping down. +'Tis left open a-purpose.' + +'We will go down, Elfride.' + +'I am afraid the air is close,' she said appealingly. + +'Oh no, ma'am,' said John. 'We white-limed the walls and arches +the day 'twas opened, as we always do, and again on the morning of +the funeral; the place is as sweet as a granary. + +'Then I should like you to accompany me, Elfie; having originally +sprung from the family too.' + +'I don't like going where death is so emphatically present. I'll +stay by the horses whilst you go in; they may get loose.' + +'What nonsense! I had no idea your sentiments were so flimsily +formed as to be perturbed by a few remnants of mortality; but stay +out, if you are so afraid, by all means.' + +'Oh no, I am not afraid; don't say that.' + +She held miserably to his arm, thinking that, perhaps, the +revelation might as well come at once as ten minutes later, for +Stephen would be sure to accompany his friend to his horse. + +At first, the gloom of the vault, which was lighted only by a +couple of candles, was too great to admit of their seeing anything +distinctly; but with a further advance Knight discerned, in front +of the black masses lining the walls, a young man standing, and +writing in a pocket-book. + +Knight said one word: 'Stephen!' + +Stephen Smith, not being in such absolute ignorance of Knight's +whereabouts as Knight had been of Smith's instantly recognized his +friend, and knew by rote the outlines of the fair woman standing +behind him. + +Stephen came forward and shook him by the hand, without speaking. + +'Why have you not written, my boy?' said Knight, without in any +way signifying Elfride's presence to Stephen. To the essayist, +Smith was still the country lad whom he had patronized and tended; +one to whom the formal presentation of a lady betrothed to himself +would have seemed incongruous and absurd. + +'Why haven't you written to me?' said Stephen. + +'Ah, yes. Why haven't I? why haven't we? That's always the query +which we cannot clearly answer without an unsatisfactory sense of +our inadequacies. However, I have not forgotten you, Smith. And +now we have met; and we must meet again, and have a longer chat +than this can conveniently be. I must know all you have been +doing. That yon have thriven, I know, and you must teach me the +way.' + +Elfride stood in the background. Stephen had read the position at +a glance, and immediately guessed that she had never mentioned his +name to Knight. His tact in avoiding catastrophes was the chief +quality which made him intellectually respectable, in which +quality he far transcended Knight; and he decided that a tranquil +issue out of the encounter, without any harrowing of the feelings +of either Knight or Elfride, was to be attempted if possible. His +old sense of indebtedness to Knight had never wholly forsaken him; +his love for Elfride was generous now. + +As far as he dared look at her movements he saw that her bearing +towards him would be dictated by his own towards her; and if he +acted as a stranger she would do likewise as a means of +deliverance. Circumstances favouring this course, it was +desirable also to be rather reserved towards Knight, to shorten +the meeting as much as possible. + +'I am afraid that my time is almost too short to allow even of +such a pleasure,' he said. 'I leave here to-morrow. And until I +start for the Continent and India, which will be in a fortnight, I +shall have hardly a moment to spare.' + +Knight's disappointment and dissatisfied looks at this reply sent +a pang through Stephen as great as any he had felt at the sight of +Elfride. The words about shortness of time were literally true, +but their tone was far from being so. He would have been +gratified to talk with Knight as in past times, and saw as a dead +loss to himself that, to save the woman who cared nothing for him, +he was deliberately throwing away his friend. + +'Oh, I am sorry to hear that,' said Knight, in a changed tone. +'But of course, if you have weighty concerns to attend to, they +must not be neglected. And if this is to be our first and last +meeting, let me say that I wish you success with all my heart!' +Knight's warmth revived towards the end; the solemn impressions he +was beginning to receive from the scene around them abstracting +from his heart as a puerility any momentary vexation at words. +'It is a strange place for us to meet in,' he continued, looking +round the vault. + +Stephen briefly assented, and there was a silence. The blackened +coffins were now revealed more clearly than at first, the whitened +walls and arches throwing them forward in strong relief. It was a +scene which was remembered by all three as an indelible mark in +their history. Knight, with an abstracted face, was standing +between his companions, though a little in advance of them, +Elfride being on his right hand, and Stephen Smith on his left. +The white daylight on his right side gleamed faintly in, and was +toned to a blueness by contrast with the yellow rays from the +candle against the wall. Elfride, timidly shrinking back, and +nearest the entrance, received most of the light therefrom, whilst +Stephen was entirely in candlelight, and to him the spot of outer +sky visible above the steps was as a steely blue patch, and +nothing more. + +'I have been here two or three times since it was opened,' said +Stephen. 'My father was engaged in the work, you know.' + +'Yes. What are you doing?' Knight inquired, looking at the note- +book and pencil Stephen held in his hand. + +'I have been sketching a few details in the church, and since then +I have been copying the names from some of the coffins here. +Before I left England I used to do a good deal of this sort of +thing.' + +'Yes; of course. Ah, that's poor Lady Luxellian, I suppose.' +Knight pointed to a coffin of light satin-wood, which stood on the +stone sleepers in the new niche. 'And the remainder of the family +are on this side. Who are those two, so snug and close together?' + +Stephen's voice altered slightly as he replied 'That's Lady +Elfride Kingsmore--born Luxellian, and that is Arthur, her +husband. I have heard my father say that they--he--ran away with +her, and married her against the wish of her parents.' + +'Then I imagine this to be where you got your Christian name, Miss +Swancourt?' said Knight, turning to her. 'I think you told me it +was three or four generations ago that your family branched off +from the Luxellians?' + +'She was my grandmother,' said Elfride, vainly endeavouring to +moisten her dry lips before she spoke. Elfride had then the +conscience-stricken look of Guido's Magdalen, rendered upon a more +childlike form. She kept her face partially away from Knight and +Stephen, and set her eyes upon the sky visible outside, as if her +salvation depended upon quickly reaching it. Her left hand rested +lightly within Knight's arm, half withdrawn, from a sense of shame +at claiming him before her old lover, yet unwilling to renounce +him; so that her glove merely touched his sleeve. '"Can one be +pardoned, and retain the offence?"' quoted Elfride's heart then. + +Conversation seemed to have no self-sustaining power, and went on +in the shape of disjointed remarks. 'One's mind gets thronged +with thoughts while standing so solemnly here,' Knight said, in a +measured quiet voice. 'How much has been said on death from time +to time! how much we ourselves can think upon it! We may fancy +each of these who lie here saying: + + + 'For Thou, to make my fall more great, + Didst lift me up on high.' + + +What comes next, Elfride? It is the Hundred-and-second Psalm I am +thinking of.' + +'Yes, I know it,' she murmured, and went on in a still lower +voice, seemingly afraid for any words from the emotional side of +her nature to reach Stephen: + + + '"My days, just hastening to their end, + Are like an evening shade; + My beauty doth, like wither'd grass, + With waning lustre fade."' + + +'Well,' said Knight musingly, 'let us leave them. Such occasions +as these seem to compel us to roam outside ourselves, far away +from the fragile frame we live in, and to expand till our +perception grows so vast that our physical reality bears no sort +of proportion to it. We look back upon the weak and minute stem +on which this luxuriant growth depends, and ask, Can it be +possible that such a capacity has a foundation so small? Must I +again return to my daily walk in that narrow cell, a human body, +where worldly thoughts can torture me? Do we not?' + +'Yes,' said Stephen and Elfride. + +'One has a sense of wrong, too, that such an appreciative breadth +as a sentient being possesses should be committed to the frail +casket of a body. What weakens one's intentions regarding the +future like the thought of this?...However, let us tune ourselves +to a more cheerful chord, for there's a great deal to be done yet +by us all.' + +As Knight meditatively addressed his juniors thus, unconscious of +the deception practised, for different reasons, by the severed +hearts at his side, and of the scenes that had in earlier days +united them, each one felt that he and she did not gain by +contrast with their musing mentor. Physically not so handsome as +either the youthful architect or the vicar's daughter, the +thoroughness and integrity of Knight illuminated his features with +a dignity not even incipient in the other two. It is difficult to +frame rules which shall apply to both sexes, and Elfride, an +undeveloped girl, must, perhaps, hardly be laden with the moral +responsibilities which attach to a man in like circumstances. The +charm of woman, too, lies partly in her subtleness in matters of +love. But if honesty is a virtue in itself, Elfride, having none +of it now, seemed, being for being, scarcely good enough for +Knight. Stephen, though deceptive for no unworthy purpose, was +deceptive after all; and whatever good results grace such strategy +if it succeed, it seldom draws admiration, especially when it +fails. + +On an ordinary occasion, had Knight been even quite alone with +Stephen, he would hardly have alluded to his possible relationship +to Elfride. But moved by attendant circumstances Knight was +impelled to be confiding. + +'Stephen,' he said, 'this lady is Miss Swancourt. I am staying at +her father's house, as you probably know.' He stepped a few paces +nearer to Smith, and said in a lower tone: 'I may as well tell you +that we are engaged to be married.' + +Low as the words had been spoken, Elfride had heard them, and +awaited Stephen's reply in breathless silence, if that could be +called silence where Elfride's dress, at each throb of her heart, +shook and indicated it like a pulse-glass, rustling also against +the wall in reply to the same throbbing. The ray of daylight +which reached her face lent it a blue pallor in comparison with +those of the other two. + +'I congratulate you,' Stephen whispered; and said aloud, 'I know +Miss Swancourt--a little. You must remember that my father is a +parishioner of Mr. Swancourt's.' + +'I thought you might possibly not have lived at home since they +have been here.' + +'I have never lived at home, certainly, since that time.' + +'I have seen Mr. Smith,' faltered Elfride. + +'Well, there is no excuse for me. As strangers to each other I +ought, I suppose, to have introduced you: as acquaintances, I +should not have stood so persistently between you. But the fact +is, Smith, you seem a boy to me, even now.' + +Stephen appeared to have a more than previous consciousness of the +intense cruelty of his fate at the present moment. He could not +repress the words, uttered with a dim bitterness: + +'You should have said that I seemed still the rural mechanic's son +I am, and hence an unfit subject for the ceremony of +introductions.' + +'Oh, no, no! I won't have that.' Knight endeavoured to give his +reply a laughing tone in Elfride's ears, and an earnestness in +Stephen's: in both which efforts he signally failed, and produced +a forced speech pleasant to neither. 'Well, let us go into the +open air again; Miss Swancourt, you are particularly silent. You +mustn't mind Smith. I have known him for years, as I have told +you.' + +'Yes, you have,' she said. + +'To think she has never mentioned her knowledge of me!' Smith +murmured, and thought with some remorse how much her conduct +resembled his own on his first arrival at her house as a stranger +to the place. + +They ascended to the daylight, Knight taking no further notice of +Elfride's manner, which, as usual, he attributed to the natural +shyness of a young woman at being discovered walking with him on +terms which left not much doubt of their meaning. Elfride stepped +a little in advance, and passed through the churchyard. + +'You are changed very considerably, Smith,' said Knight, 'and I +suppose it is no more than was to be expected. However, don't +imagine that I shall feel any the less interest in you and your +fortunes whenever you care to confide them to me. I have not +forgotten the attachment you spoke of as your reason for going +away to India. A London young lady, was it not? I hope all is +prosperous?' + +'No: the match is broken off.' + +It being always difficult to know whether to express sorrow or +gladness under such circumstances--all depending upon the +character of the match--Knight took shelter in the safe words: 'I +trust it was for the best.' + +'I hope it was. But I beg that you will not press me further: no, +you have not pressed me--I don't mean that--but I would rather not +speak upon the subject.' + +Stephen's words were hurried. + +Knight said no more, and they followed in the footsteps of +Elfride, who still kept some paces in advance, and had not heard +Knight's unconscious allusion to her. Stephen bade him adieu at +the churchyard-gate without going outside, and watched whilst he +and his sweetheart mounted their horses. + +'Good heavens, Elfride,' Knight exclaimed, 'how pale you are! I +suppose I ought not to have taken you into that vault. What is +the matter?' + +'Nothing,' said Elfride faintly. 'I shall be myself in a moment. +All was so strange and unexpected down there, that it made me +unwell.' + +'I thought you said very little. Shall I get some water?' + +'No, no.' + +'Do you think it is safe for you to mount?' + +'Quite--indeed it is,' she said, with a look of appeal. + +'Now then--up she goes!' whispered Knight, and lifted her tenderly +into the saddle. + +Her old lover still looked on at the performance as he leant over +the gate a dozen yards off. Once in the saddle, and having a firm +grip of the reins, she turned her head as if by a resistless +fascination, and for the first time since that memorable parting +on the moor outside St. Launce's after the passionate attempt at +marriage with him, Elfride looked in the face of the young man she +first had loved. He was the youth who had called her his +inseparable wife many a time, and whom she had even addressed as +her husband. Their eyes met. Measurement of life should be +proportioned rather to the intensity of the experience than to its +actual length. Their glance, but a moment chronologically, was a +season in their history. To Elfride the intense agony of reproach +in Stephen's eye was a nail piercing her heart with a deadliness +no words can describe. With a spasmodic effort she withdrew her +eyes, urged on the horse, and in the chaos of perturbed memories +was oblivious of any presence beside her. The deed of deception +was complete. + +Gaining a knoll on which the park transformed itself into wood and +copse, Knight came still closer to her side, and said, 'Are you +better now, dearest?' + +'Oh yes.' She pressed a hand to her eyes, as if to blot out the +image of Stephen. A vivid scarlet spot now shone with +preternatural brightness in the centre of each cheek, leaving the +remainder of her face lily-white as before. + +'Elfride,' said Knight, rather in his old tone of mentor, 'you +know I don't for a moment chide you, but is there not a great deal +of unwomanly weakness in your allowing yourself to be so +overwhelmed by the sight of what, after all, is no novelty? Every +woman worthy of the name should, I think, be able to look upon +death with something like composure. Surely you think so too?' + +'Yes; I own it.' + +His obtuseness to the cause of her indisposition, by evidencing +his entire freedom from the suspicion of anything behind the +scenes, showed how incapable Knight was of deception himself, +rather than any inherent dulness in him regarding human nature. +This, clearly perceived by Elfride, added poignancy to her self- +reproach, and she idolized him the more because of their +difference. Even the recent sight of Stephen's face and the sound +of his voice, which for a moment had stirred a chord or two of +ancient kindness, were unable to keep down the adoration re- +existent now that he was again out of view. + +She had replied to Knight's question hastily, and immediately went +on to speak of indifferent subjects. After they had reached home +she was apart from him till dinner-time. When dinner was over, +and they were watching the dusk in the drawing-room, Knight +stepped out upon the terrace. Elfride went after him very +decisively, on the spur of a virtuous intention. + +'Mr. Knight, I want to tell you something,' she said, with quiet +firmness. + +'And what is it about?' gaily returned her lover. 'Happiness, I +hope. Do not let anything keep you so sad as you seem to have +been to-day.' + +'I cannot mention the matter until I tell you the whole substance +of it,' she said. 'And that I will do to-morrow. I have been +reminded of it to-day. It is about something I once did, and +don't think I ought to have done.' + +This, it must be said, was rather a mild way of referring to a +frantic passion and flight, which, much or little in itself, only +accident had saved from being a scandal in the public eye. + +Knight thought the matter some trifle, and said pleasantly: + +'Then I am not to hear the dreadful confession now?' + +'No, not now. I did not mean to-night,' Elfride responded, with a +slight decline in the firmness of her voice. 'It is not light as +you think it--it troubles me a great deal.' Fearing now the +effect of her own earnestness, she added forcedly, 'Though, +perhaps, you may think it light after all.' + +'But you have not said when it is to be?' + +'To-morrow morning. Name a time, will you, and bind me to it? I +want you to fix an hour, because I am weak, and may otherwise try +to get out of it.' She added a little artificial laugh, which +showed how timorous her resolution was still. + +'Well, say after breakfast--at eleven o'clock.' + +'Yes, eleven o'clock. I promise you. Bind me strictly to my +word.' + + + +Chapter XXVIII + +'I lull a fancy, trouble-tost.' + + +Miss Swancourt, it is eleven o'clock.' + +She was looking out of her dressing-room window on the first +floor, and Knight was regarding her from the terrace balustrade, +upon which he had been idly sitting for some time--dividing the +glances of his eye between the pages of a book in his hand, the +brilliant hues of the geraniums and calceolarias, and the open +window above-mentioned. + +'Yes, it is, I know. I am coming.' + +He drew closer, and under the window. + +'How are you this morning, Elfride? You look no better for your +long night's rest.' + +She appeared at the door shortly after, took his offered arm, and +together they walked slowly down the gravel path leading to the +river and away under the trees. + +Her resolution, sustained during the last fifteen hours, had been +to tell the whole truth, and now the moment had come. + +Step by step they advanced, and still she did not speak. They +were nearly at the end of the walk, when Knight broke the silence. + +'Well, what is the confession, Elfride?' + +She paused a moment, drew a long breath; and this is what she +said: + +'I told you one day--or rather I gave you to understand--what was +not true. I fancy you thought me to mean I was nineteen my next +birthday, but it was my last I was nineteen.' + +The moment had been too much for her. Now that the crisis had +come, no qualms of conscience, no love of honesty, no yearning to +make a confidence and obtain forgiveness with a kiss, could string +Elfride up to the venture. Her dread lest he should be +unforgiving was heightened by the thought of yesterday's artifice, +which might possibly add disgust to his disappointment. The +certainty of one more day's affection, which she gained by +silence, outvalued the hope of a perpetuity combined with the risk +of all. + +The trepidation caused by these thoughts on what she had intended +to say shook so naturally the words she did say, that Knight never +for a moment suspected them to be a last moment's substitution. +He smiled and pressed her hand warmly. + +'My dear Elfie--yes, you are now--no protestation--what a winning +little woman you are, to be so absurdly scrupulous about a mere +iota! Really, I never once have thought whether your nineteenth +year was the last or the present. And, by George, well I may not; +for it would never do for a staid fogey a dozen years older to +stand upon such a trifle as that.' + +'Don't praise me--don't praise me! Though I prize it from your +lips, I don't deserve it now.' + +But Knight, being in an exceptionally genial mood, merely saw this +distressful exclamation as modesty. 'Well,' he added, after a +minute, 'I like you all the better, you know, for such moral +precision, although I called it absurd.' He went on with tender +earnestness: 'For, Elfride, there is one thing I do love to see in +a woman--that is, a soul truthful and clear as heaven's light. I +could put up with anything if I had that--forgive nothing if I had +it not. Elfride, you have such a soul, if ever woman had; and +having it, retain it, and don't ever listen to the fashionable +theories of the day about a woman's privileges and natural right +to practise wiles. Depend upon it, my dear girl, that a noble +woman must be as honest as a noble man. I specially mean by +honesty, fairness not only in matters of business and social +detail, but in all the delicate dealings of love, to which the +licence given to your sex particularly refers.' + +Elfride looked troublously at the trees. + +'Now let us go on to the river, Elfie.' + +'I would if I had a hat on,' she said with a sort of suppressed +woe. + +'I will get it for you,' said Knight, very willing to purchase her +companionship at so cheap a price. 'You sit down there a minute.' +And he turned and walked rapidly back to the house for the article +in question. + +Elfride sat down upon one of the rustic benches which adorned this +portion of the grounds, and remained with her eyes upon the grass. +She was induced to lift them by hearing the brush of light and +irregular footsteps hard by. Passing along the path which +intersected the one she was in and traversed the outer +shrubberies, Elfride beheld the farmer's widow, Mrs. Jethway. +Before she noticed Elfride, she paused to look at the house, +portions of which were visible through the bushes. Elfride, +shrinking back, hoped the unpleasant woman might go on without +seeing her. But Mrs. Jethway, silently apostrophizing the house, +with actions which seemed dictated by a half-overturned reason, +had discerned the girl, and immediately came up and stood in front +of her. + +'Ah, Miss Swancourt! Why did you disturb me? Mustn't I trespass +here?' + +'You may walk here if you like, Mrs. Jethway. I do not disturb +you.' + +'You disturb my mind, and my mind is my whole life; for my boy is +there still, and he is gone from my body.' + +'Yes, poor young man. I was sorry when he died.' + +'Do you know what he died of? ' + +'Consumption.' + +'Oh no, no!' said the widow. 'That word "consumption" covers a +good deal. He died because you were his own well-agreed +sweetheart, and then proved false--and it killed him. Yes, Miss +Swancourt,' she said in an excited whisper, 'you killed my son!' + +'How can you be so wicked and foolish!' replied Elfride, rising +indignantly. But indignation was not natural to her, and having +been so worn and harrowed by late events, she lost any powers of +defence that mood might have lent her. 'I could not help his +loving me, Mrs. Jethway!' + +'That's just what you could have helped. You know how it began, +Miss Elfride. Yes: you said you liked the name of Felix better +than any other name in the parish, and you knew it was his name, +and that those you said it to would report it to him.' + +'I knew it was his name--of course I did; but I am sure, Mrs. +Jethway, I did not intend anybody to tell him.' + +'But you knew they would.' + +'No, I didn't.' + +'And then, after that, when you were riding on Revels-day by our +house, and the lads were gathered there, and you wanted to +dismount, when Jim Drake and George Upway and three or four more +ran forward to hold your pony, and Felix stood back timid, why did +you beckon to him, and say you would rather he held it? ' + +'O Mrs. Jethway, you do think so mistakenly! I liked him best-- +that's why I wanted him to do it. He was gentle and nice--I +always thought him so--and I liked him.' + +'Then why did you let him kiss you?' + +'It is a falsehood; oh, it is, it is!' said Elfride, weeping with +desperation. 'He came behind me, and attempted to kiss me; and +that was why I told him never to let me see him again.' + +'But you did not tell your father or anybody, as you would have if +you had looked upon it then as the insult you now pretend it was.' + +'He begged me not to tell, and foolishly enough I did not. And I +wish I had now. I little expected to be scourged with my own +kindness. Pray leave me, Mrs. Jethway.' The girl only +expostulated now. + +'Well, you harshly dismissed him, and he died. And before his +body was cold, you took another to your heart. Then as carelessly +sent him about his business, and took a third. And if you +consider that nothing, Miss Swancourt,' she continued, drawing +closer; 'it led on to what was very serious indeed. Have you +forgotten the would-be runaway marriage? The journey to London, +and the return the next day without being married, and that +there's enough disgrace in that to ruin a woman's good name far +less light than yours? You may have: I have not. Fickleness +towards a lover is bad, but fickleness after playing the wife is +wantonness.' + +'Oh, it's a wicked cruel lie! Do not say it; oh, do not! ' + +'Does your new man know of it? I think not, or he would be no man +of yours! As much of the story as was known is creeping about the +neighbourhood even now; but I know more than any of them, and why +should I respect your love?' + +'I defy you!' cried Elfride tempestuously. 'Do and say all you +can to ruin me; try; put your tongue at work; I invite it! I defy +you as a slanderous woman! Look, there he comes.' And her voice +trembled greatly as she saw through the leaves the beloved form of +Knight coming from the door with her hat in his hand. 'Tell him +at once; I can bear it.' + +'Not now,' said the woman, and disappeared down the path. + +The excitement of her latter words had restored colour to +Elfride's cheeks; and hastily wiping her eyes, she walked farther +on, so that by the time her lover had overtaken her the traces of +emotion had nearly disappeared from her face. Knight put the hat +upon her head, took her hand, and drew it within his arm. + +It was the last day but one previous to their departure for St. +Leonards; and Knight seemed to have a purpose in being much in her +company that day. They rambled along the valley. The season was +that period in the autumn when the foliage alone of an ordinary +plantation is rich enough in hues to exhaust the chromatic +combinations of an artist's palette. Most lustrous of all are the +beeches, graduating from bright rusty red at the extremity of the +boughs to a bright yellow at their inner parts; young oaks are +still of a neutral green; Scotch firs and hollies are nearly blue; +whilst occasional dottings of other varieties give maroons and +purples of every tinge. + +The river--such as it was--here pursued its course amid flagstones +as level as a pavement, but divided by crevices of irregular +width. With the summer drought the torrent had narrowed till it +was now but a thread of crystal clearness, meandering along a +central channel in the rocky bed of the winter current. Knight +scrambled through the bushes which at this point nearly covered +the brook from sight, and leapt down upon the dry portion of the +river bottom. + +'Elfride, I never saw such a sight!' he exclaimed. 'The hazels +overhang the river's course in a perfect arch, and the floor is +beautifully paved. The place reminds one of the passages of a +cloister. Let me help you down.' + +He assisted her through the marginal underwood and down to the +stones. They walked on together to a tiny cascade about a foot +wide and high, and sat down beside it on the flags that for nine +months in the year were submerged beneath a gushing bourne. From +their feet trickled the attenuated thread of water which alone +remained to tell the intent and reason of this leaf-covered aisle, +and journeyed on in a zigzag line till lost in the shade. + +Knight, leaning on his elbow, after contemplating all this, looked +critically at Elfride. + +'Does not such a luxuriant head of hair exhaust itself and get +thin as the years go on from eighteen to eight-and-twenty?' he +asked at length. + +'Oh no!' she said quickly, with a visible disinclination to +harbour such a thought, which came upon her with an unpleasantness +whose force it would be difficult for men to understand. She +added afterwards, with smouldering uneasiness, 'Do you really +think that a great abundance of hair is more likely to get thin +than a moderate quantity?' + +'Yes, I really do. I believe--am almost sure, in fact--that if +statistics could be obtained on the subject, you would find the +persons with thin hair were those who had a superabundance +originally, and that those who start with a moderate quantity +retain it without much loss.' + +Elfride's troubles sat upon her face as well as in her heart. +Perhaps to a woman it is almost as dreadful to think of losing her +beauty as of losing her reputation. At any rate, she looked quite +as gloomy as she had looked at any minute that day. + +'You shouldn't be so troubled about a mere personal adornment,' +said Knight, with some of the severity of tone that had been +customary before she had beguiled him into softness. + +'I think it is a woman's duty to be as beautiful as she can. If I +were a scholar, I would give you chapter and verse for it from one +of your own Latin authors. I know there is such a passage, for +papa has alluded to it.' + +"'Munditiae, et ornatus, et cultus," &c.--is that it? A passage in +Livy which is no defence at all.' + +'No, it is not that.' + +'Never mind, then; for I have a reason for not taking up my old +cudgels against you, Elfie. Can you guess what the reason is?' + +'No; but I am glad to hear it,' she said thankfully. 'For it is +dreadful when you talk so. For whatever dreadful name the +weakness may deserve, I must candidly own that I am terrified to +think my hair may ever get thin.' + +'Of course; a sensible woman would rather lose her wits than her +beauty.' + +'I don't care if you do say satire and judge me cruelly. I know +my hair is beautiful; everybody says so.' + +'Why, my dear Miss Swancourt,' he tenderly replied, 'I have not +said anything against it. But you know what is said about +handsome being and handsome doing.' + +'Poor Miss Handsome-does cuts but a sorry figure beside Miss +Handsome-is in every man's eyes, your own not excepted, Mr. +Knight, though it pleases you to throw off so,' said Elfride +saucily. And lowering her voice: 'You ought not to have taken so +much trouble to save me from falling over the cliff, for you don't +think mine a life worth much trouble evidently.' + +'Perhaps you think mine was not worth yours.' + +'It was worth anybody's!' + +Her hand was plashing in the little waterfall, and her eyes were +bent the same way. + +'You talk about my severity with you, Elfride. You are unkind to +me, you know.' + +'How?' she asked, looking up from her idle occupation. + +'After my taking trouble to get jewellery to please you, you +wouldn't accept it.' + +'Perhaps I would now; perhaps I want to.' + +'Do!' said Knight. + +And the packet was withdrawn from his pocket and presented the +third time. Elfride took it with delight. The obstacle was rent +in twain, and the significant gift was hers. + +'I'll take out these ugly ones at once,' she exclaimed, 'and I'll +wear yours--shall I?' + +'I should be gratified.' + +Now, though it may seem unlikely, considering how far the two had +gone in converse, Knight had never yet ventured to kiss Elfride. +Far slower was he than Stephen Smith in matters like that. The +utmost advance he had made in such demonstrations had been to the +degree witnessed by Stephen in the summer-house. So Elfride's +cheek being still forbidden fruit to him, he said impulsively. + +'Elfie, I should like to touch that seductive ear of yours. Those +are my gifts; so let me dress you in them.' + +She hesitated with a stimulating hesitation. + +'Let me put just one in its place, then?' + +Her face grew much warmer. + +'I don't think it would be quite the usual or proper course,' she +said, suddenly turning and resuming her operation of plashing in +the miniature cataract. + +The stillness of things was disturbed by a bird coming to the +streamlet to drink. After watching him dip his bill, sprinkle +himself, and fly into a tree, Knight replied, with the courteous +brusqueness she so much liked to hear-- + +'Elfride, now you may as well be fair. You would mind my doing it +but little, I think; so give me leave, do.' + +'I will be fair, then,' she said confidingly, and looking him full +in the face. It was a particular pleasure to her to be able to do +a little honesty without fear. 'I should not mind your doing so-- +I should like such an attention. My thought was, would it be +right to let you?' + +'Then I will!' he rejoined, with that singular earnestness about a +small matter--in the eyes of a ladies' man but a momentary peg for +flirtation or jest--which is only found in deep natures who have +been wholly unused to toying with womankind, and which, from its +unwontedness, is in itself a tribute the most precious that can be +rendered, and homage the most exquisite to be received. + +'And you shall,' she whispered, without reserve, and no longer +mistress of the ceremonies. And then Elfride inclined herself +towards him, thrust back her hair, and poised her head sideways. +In doing this her arm and shoulder necessarily rested against his +breast. + +At the touch, the sensation of both seemed to be concentrated at +the point of contact. All the time he was performing the delicate +manoeuvre Knight trembled like a young surgeon in his first +operation. + +'Now the other,' said Knight in a whisper. + +'No, no.' + +'Why not?' + +'I don't know exactly.' + +'You must know.' + +'Your touch agitates me so. Let us go home.' + +'Don't say that, Elfride. What is it, after all? A mere nothing. +Now turn round, dearest.' + +She was powerless to disobey, and turned forthwith; and then, +without any defined intention in either's mind, his face and hers +drew closer together; and he supported her there, and kissed her. + +Knight was at once the most ardent and the coolest man alive. +When his emotions slumbered he appeared almost phlegmatic; when +they were moved he was no less than passionate. And now, without +having quite intended an early marriage, he put the question +plainly. It came with all the ardour which was the accumulation +of long years behind a natural reserve. + +'Elfride, when shall we be married?' + +The words were sweet to her; but there was a bitter in the sweet. +These newly-overt acts of his, which had culminated in this plain +question, coming on the very day of Mrs. Jethway's blasting +reproaches, painted distinctly her fickleness as an enormity. +Loving him in secret had not seemed such thorough-going +inconstancy as the same love recognized and acted upon in the face +of threats. Her distraction was interpreted by him at her side as +the outward signs of an unwonted experience. + +'I don't press you for an answer now, darling,' he said, seeing +she was not likely to give a lucid reply. 'Take your time.' + +Knight was as honourable a man as was ever loved and deluded by +woman. It may be said that his blindness in love proved the +point, for shrewdness in love usually goes with meanness in +general. Once the passion had mastered him, the intellect had +gone for naught. Knight, as a lover, was more single-minded and +far simpler than his friend Stephen, who in other capacities was +shallow beside him. + +Without saying more on the subject of their marriage, Knight held +her at arm's length, as if she had been a large bouquet, and +looked at her with critical affection. + +'Does your pretty gift become me?' she inquired, with tears of +excitement on the fringes of her eyes. + +'Undoubtedly, perfectly!' said her lover, adopting a lighter tone +to put her at her ease. 'Ah, you should see them; you look +shinier than ever. Fancy that I have been able to improve you!' + +'Am I really so nice? I am glad for your sake. I wish I could see +myself.' + +'You can't. You must wait till we get home.' + +'I shall never be able,' she said, laughing. 'Look: here's a +way.' + +'So there is. Well done, woman's wit!' + +'Hold me steady!' + +'Oh yes.' + +'And don't let me fall, will you?' + +'By no means.' + +Below their seat the thread of water paused to spread out into a +smooth small pool. Knight supported her whilst she knelt down and +leant over it. + +'I can see myself. Really, try as religiously as I will, I cannot +help admiring my appearance in them.' + +'Doubtless. How can you be so fond of finery? I believe you are +corrupting me into a taste for it. I used to hate every such +thing before I knew you.' + +'I like ornaments, because I want people to admire what you +possess, and envy you, and say, "I wish I was he." ' + +'I suppose I ought not to object after that. And how much longer +are you going to look in there at yourself?' + +'Until you are tired of holding me? Oh, I want to ask you +something.' And she turned round. 'Now tell truly, won't you? +What colour of hair do you like best now?' + +Knight did not answer at the moment. + +'Say light, do!' she whispered coaxingly. 'Don't say dark, as you +did that time.' + +'Light-brown, then. Exactly the colour of my sweetheart's.' + +'Really?' said Elfride, enjoying as truth what she knew to be +flattery. + +'Yes.' + +'And blue eyes, too, not hazel? Say yes, say yes!' + +'One recantation is enough for to-day.' + +'No, no.' + +'Very well, blue eyes.' And Knight laughed, and drew her close and +kissed her the second time, which operations he performed with the +carefulness of a fruiterer touching a bunch of grapes so as not to +disturb their bloom. + +Elfride objected to a second, and flung away her face, the +movement causing a slight disarrangement of hat and hair. Hardly +thinking what she said in the trepidation of the moment, she +exclaimed, clapping her hand to her ear-- + +'Ah, we must be careful! I lost the other earring doing like +this.' + +No sooner did she realise the significant words than a troubled +look passed across her face, and she shut her lips as if to keep +them back. + +'Doing like what?' said Knight, perplexed. + +'Oh, sitting down out of doors,' she replied hastily. + + + +Chapter XXIX + +'Care, thou canker.' + + +It is an evening at the beginning of October, and the mellowest of +autumn sunsets irradiates London, even to its uttermost eastern +end. Between the eye and the flaming West, columns of smoke stand +up in the still air like tall trees. Everything in the shade is +rich and misty blue. + +Mr. and Mrs. Swancourt and Elfride are looking at these lustrous +and lurid contrasts from the window of a large hotel near London +Bridge. The visit to their friends at St. Leonards is over, and +they are staying a day or two in the metropolis on their way home. + +Knight spent the same interval of time in crossing over to +Brittany by way of Jersey and St. Malo. He then passed through +Normandy, and returned to London also, his arrival there having +been two days later than that of Elfride and her parents. + +So the evening of this October day saw them all meeting at the +above-mentioned hotel, where they had previously engaged +apartments. During the afternoon Knight had been to his lodgings +at Richmond to make a little change in the nature of his baggage; +and on coming up again there was never ushered by a bland waiter +into a comfortable room a happier man than Knight when shown to +where Elfride and her step-mother were sitting after a fatiguing +day of shopping. + +Elfride looked none the better for her change: Knight was as brown +as a nut. They were soon engaged by themselves in a corner of the +room. Now that the precious words of promise had been spoken, the +young girl had no idea of keeping up her price by the system of +reserve which other more accomplished maidens use. Her lover was +with her again, and it was enough: she made her heart over to him +entirely. + +Dinner was soon despatched. And when a preliminary round of +conversation concerning their doings since the last parting had +been concluded, they reverted to the subject of to-morrow's +journey home. + +'That enervating ride through the myrtle climate of South Devon-- +how I dread it to-morrow!' Mrs. Swancourt was saying. 'I had +hoped the weather would have been cooler by this time.' + +'Did you ever go by water?' said Knight. + +'Never--by never, I mean not since the time of railways.' + +'Then if you can afford an additional day, I propose that we do +it,' said Knight. 'The Channel is like a lake just now. We +should reach Plymouth in about forty hours, I think, and the boats +start from just below the bridge here' (pointing over his shoulder +eastward). + +'Hear, hear!' said the vicar. + +'It's an idea, certainly,' said his wife. + +'Of course these coasters are rather tubby,' said Knight. 'But +you wouldn't mind that?' + +'No: we wouldn't mind.' + +'And the saloon is a place like the fishmarket of a ninth-rate +country town, but that wouldn't matter?' + +'Oh dear, no. If we had only thought of it soon enough, we might +have had the use of Lord Luxellian's yacht. But never mind, we'll +go. We shall escape the worrying rattle through the whole length +of London to-morrow morning--not to mention the risk of being +killed by excursion trains, which is not a little one at this time +of the year, if the papers are true.' + +Elfride, too, thought the arrangement delightful; and accordingly, +ten o'clock the following morning saw two cabs crawling round by +the Mint, and between the preternaturally high walls of +Nightingale Lane towards the river side. + +The first vehicle was occupied by the travellers in person, and +the second brought up the luggage, under the supervision of Mrs. +Snewson, Mrs. Swancourt's maid--and for the last fortnight +Elfride's also; for although the younger lady had never been +accustomed to any such attendant at robing times, her stepmother +forced her into a semblance of familiarity with one when they were +away from home. + +Presently waggons, bales, and smells of all descriptions increased +to such an extent that the advance of the cabs was at the slowest +possible rate. At intervals it was necessary to halt entirely, +that the heavy vehicles unloading in front might be moved aside, a +feat which was not accomplished without a deal of swearing and +noise. The vicar put his head out of the window. + +'Surely there must be some mistake in the way,' he said with great +concern, drawing in his head again. 'There's not a respectable +conveyance to be seen here except ours. I've heard that there are +strange dens in this part of London, into which people have been +entrapped and murdered--surely there is no conspiracy on the part +of the cabman?' + +'Oh no, no. It is all right,' said Mr. Knight, who was as placid +as dewy eve by the side of Elfride. + +'But what I argue from,' said the vicar, with a greater emphasis +of uneasiness, 'are plain appearances. This can't be the highway +from London to Plymouth by water, because it is no way at all to +any place. We shall miss our steamer and our train too--that's +what I think.' + +'Depend upon it we are right. In fact, here we are.' + +'Trimmer's Wharf,' said the cabman, opening the door. + +No sooner had they alighted than they perceived a tussle going on +between the hindmost cabman and a crowd of light porters who had +charged him in column, to obtain possession of the bags and boxes, +Mrs. Snewson's hands being seen stretched towards heaven in the +midst of the melee. Knight advanced gallantly, and after a hard +struggle reduced the crowd to two, upon whose shoulders and trucks +the goods vanished away in the direction of the water's edge with +startling rapidity. + +Then more of the same tribe, who had run on ahead, were heard +shouting to boatmen, three of whom pulled alongside, and two being +vanquished, the luggage went tumbling into the remaining one. + +'Never saw such a dreadful scene in my life--never!' said Mr. +Swancourt, floundering into the boat. 'Worse than Famine and +Sword upon one. I thought such customs were confined to +continental ports. Aren't you astonished, Elfride?' + +'Oh no,' said Elfride, appearing amid the dingy scene like a +rainbow in a murky sky. 'It is a pleasant novelty, I think.' + +'Where in the wide ocean is our steamer?' the vicar inquired. 'I +can see nothing but old hulks, for the life of me.' + +'Just behind that one,' said Knight; 'we shall soon be round under +her.' + +The object of their search was soon after disclosed to view--a +great lumbering form of inky blackness, which looked as if it had +never known the touch of a paint-brush for fifty years. It was +lying beside just such another, and the way on board was down a +narrow lane of water between the two, about a yard and a half wide +at one end, and gradually converging to a point. At the moment of +their entry into this narrow passage, a brilliantly painted rival +paddled down the river like a trotting steed, creating such a +series of waves and splashes that their frail wherry was tossed +like a teacup, and the vicar and his wife slanted this way and +that, inclining their heads into contact with a Punch-and-Judy air +and countenance, the wavelets striking the sides of the two hulls, +and flapping back into their laps. + +'Dreadful! horrible!' Mr. Swancourt murmured privately; and said +aloud, I thought we walked on board. I don't think really I +should have come, if I had known this trouble was attached to it.' + +'If they must splash, I wish they would splash us with clean +water,' said the old lady, wiping her dress with her handkerchief. + +'I hope it is perfectly safe,' continued the vicar. + +'O papa! you are not very brave,' cried Elfride merrily. + +'Bravery is only obtuseness to the perception of contingencies,' +Mr. Swancourt severely answered. + +Mrs. Swancourt laughed, and Elfride laughed, and Knight laughed, +in the midst of which pleasantness a man shouted to them from some +position between their heads and the sky, and they found they were +close to the Juliet, into which they quiveringly ascended. + +It having been found that the lowness of the tide would prevent +their getting off for an hour, the Swancourts, having nothing else +to do, allowed their eyes to idle upon men in blue jerseys +performing mysterious mending operations with tar-twine; they +turned to look at the dashes of lurid sunlight, like burnished +copper stars afloat on the ripples, which danced into and +tantalized their vision; or listened to the loud music of a steam- +crane at work close by; or to sighing sounds from the funnels of +passing steamers, getting dead as they grew more distant; or to +shouts from the decks of different craft in their vicinity, all of +them assuming the form of 'Ah-he-hay!' + +Half-past ten: not yet off. Mr. Swancourt breathed a breath of +weariness, and looked at his fellow-travellers in general. Their +faces were certainly not worth looking at. The expression +'Waiting' was written upon them so absolutely that nothing more +could be discerned there. All animation was suspended till +Providence should raise the water and let them go. + +'I have been thinking,' said Knight, 'that we have come amongst +the rarest class of people in the kingdom. Of all human +characteristics, a low opinion of the value of his own time by an +individual must be among the strangest to find. Here we see +numbers of that patient and happy species. Rovers, as distinct +from travellers.' + +'But they are pleasure-seekers, to whom time is of no importance.' + +'Oh no. The pleasure-seekers we meet on the grand routes are more +anxious than commercial travellers to rush on. And added to the +loss of time in getting to their journey's end, these exceptional +people take their chance of sea-sickness by coming this way.' + +'Can it be?' inquired the vicar with apprehension. 'Surely not, +Mr. Knight, just here in our English Channel--close at our doors, +as I may say.' + +'Entrance passages are very draughty places, and the Channel is +like the rest. It ruins the temper of sailors. It has been +calculated by philosophers that more damns go up to heaven from +the Channel, in the course of a year, than from all the five +oceans put together.' + +They really start now, and the dead looks of all the throng come +to life immediately. The man who has been frantically hauling in +a rope that bade fair to have no end ceases his labours, and they +glide down the serpentine bends of the Thames. + +Anything anywhere was a mine of interest to Elfride, and so was +this. + +'It is well enough now,' said Mrs. Swancourt, after they had +passed the Nore, 'but I can't say I have cared for my voyage +hitherto.' For being now in the open sea a slight breeze had +sprung up, which cheered her as well as her two younger +companions. But unfortunately it had a reverse effect upon the +vicar, who, after turning a sort of apricot jam colour, +interspersed with dashes of raspberry, pleaded indisposition, and +vanished from their sight. + +The afternoon wore on. Mrs. Swancourt kindly sat apart by herself +reading, and the betrothed pair were left to themselves. Elfride +clung trustingly to Knight's arm, and proud was she to walk with +him up and down the deck, or to go forward, and leaning with him +against the forecastle rails, watch the setting sun gradually +withdrawing itself over their stern into a huge bank of livid +cloud with golden edges that rose to meet it. + +She was childishly full of life and spirits, though in walking up +and down with him before the other passengers, and getting noticed +by them, she was at starting rather confused, it being the first +time she had shown herself so openly under that kind of +protection. 'I expect they are envious and saying things about +us, don't you?' she would whisper to Knight with a stealthy smile. + +'Oh no,' he would answer unconcernedly. 'Why should they envy us, +and what can they say?' + +'Not any harm, of course,' Elfride replied, 'except such as this: +"How happy those two are! she is proud enough now." What makes it +worse,' she continued in the extremity of confidence, 'I heard +those two cricketing men say just now, "She's the nobbiest girl on +the boat." But I don't mind it, you know, Harry.' + +'I should hardly have supposed you did, even if you had not told +me,' said Knight with great blandness. + +She was never tired of asking her lover questions and admiring his +answers, good, bad, or indifferent as they might be. The evening +grew dark and night came on, and lights shone upon them from the +horizon and from the sky. + +'Now look there ahead of us, at that halo in the air, of silvery +brightness. Watch it, and you will see what it comes to.' + +She watched for a few minutes, when two white lights emerged from +the side of a hill, and showed themselves to be the origin of the +halo. + +'What a dazzling brilliance! What do they mark?' + +'The South Foreland: they were previously covered by the cliff.' + +'What is that level line of little sparkles--a town, I suppose?' + +'That's Dover.' + +All this time, and later, soft sheet lightning expanded from a +cloud in their path, enkindling their faces as they paced up and +down, shining over the water, and, for a moment, showing the +horizon as a keen line. + +Elfride slept soundly that night. Her first thought the next +morning was the thrilling one that Knight was as close at hand as +when they were at home at Endelstow, and her first sight, on +looking out of the cabin window, was the perpendicular face of +Beachy Head, gleaming white in a brilliant six-o'clock-in-the- +morning sun. This fair daybreak, however, soon changed its +aspect. A cold wind and a pale mist descended upon the sea, and +seemed to threaten a dreary day. + +When they were nearing Southampton, Mrs. Swancourt came to say +that her husband was so ill that he wished to be put on shore +here, and left to do the remainder of the journey by land. 'He +will be perfectly well directly he treads firm ground again. +Which shall we do--go with him, or finish our voyage as we +intended?' + +Elfride was comfortably housed under an umbrella which Knight was +holding over her to keep off the wind. 'Oh, don't let us go on +shore!' she said with dismay. 'It would be such a pity!' + +'That's very fine,' said Mrs. Swancourt archly, as to a child. +'See, the wind has increased her colour, the sea her appetite and +spirits, and somebody her happiness. Yes, it would be a pity, +certainly.' + +''Tis my misfortune to be always spoken to from a pedestal,' +sighed Elfride. + +'Well, we will do as you like, Mrs. Swancourt,' said Knight, 'but----' + +'I myself would rather remain on board,' interrupted the elder +lady. 'And Mr. Swancourt particularly wishes to go by himself. +So that shall settle the matter.' + +The vicar, now a drab colour, was put ashore, and became as well +as ever forthwith. + +Elfride, sitting alone in a retired part of the vessel, saw a +veiled woman walk aboard among the very latest arrivals at this +port. She was clothed in black silk, and carried a dark shawl +upon her arm. The woman, without looking around her, turned to +the quarter allotted to the second-cabin passengers. All the +carnation Mrs. Swancourt had complimented her step-daughter upon +possessing left Elfride's cheeks, and she trembled visibly. + +She ran to the other side of the boat, where Mrs. Swancourt was +standing. + +'Let us go home by railway with papa, after all,' she pleaded +earnestly. 'I would rather go with him--shall we?' + +Mrs. Swancourt looked around for a moment, as if unable to decide. +'Ah,' she exclaimed, 'it is too late now. Why did not you say so +before, when we had plenty of time?' + +The Juliet had at that minute let go, the engines had started, and +they were gliding slowly away from the quay. There was no help +for it but to remain, unless the Juliet could be made to put back, +and that would create a great disturbance. Elfride gave up the +idea and submitted quietly. Her happiness was sadly mutilated +now. + +The woman whose presence had so disturbed her was exactly like +Mrs. Jethway. She seemed to haunt Elfride like a shadow. After +several minutes' vain endeavour to account for any design Mrs. +Jethway could have in watching her, Elfride decided to think that, +if it were the widow, the encounter was accidental. She +remembered that the widow in her restlessness was often visiting +the village near Southampton, which was her original home, and it +was possible that she chose water-transit with the idea of saving +expense. + +'What is the matter, Elfride?' Knight inquired, standing before +her. + +'Nothing more than that I am rather depressed.' + +'I don't much wonder at it; that wharf was depressing. We seemed +underneath and inferior to everything around us. But we shall be +in the sea breeze again soon, and that will freshen you, dear.' + +The evening closed in and dusk increased as they made way down +Southampton Water and through the Solent. Elfride's disturbance +of mind was such that her light spirits of the foregoing four and +twenty hours had entirely deserted her. The weather too had grown +more gloomy, for though the showers of the morning had ceased, the +sky was covered more closely than ever with dense leaden clouds. +How beautiful was the sunset when they rounded the North Foreland +the previous evening! now it was impossible to tell within half an +hour the time of the luminary's going down. Knight led her about, +and being by this time accustomed to her sudden changes of mood, +overlooked the necessity of a cause in regarding the conditions-- +impressionableness and elasticity. + +Elfride looked stealthily to the other end of the vessel. Mrs. +Jethway, or her double, was sitting at the stern--her eye steadily +regarding Elfride. + +'Let us go to the forepart,' she said quickly to Knight. 'See +there--the man is fixing the lights for the night.' + +Knight assented, and after watching the operation of fixing the +red and the green lights on the port and starboard bows, and the +hoisting of the white light to the masthead, he walked up and down +with her till the increase of wind rendered promenading difficult. +Elfride's eyes were occasionally to be found furtively gazing +abaft, to learn if her enemy were really there. Nobody was +visible now. + +'Shall we go below?' said Knight, seeing that the deck was nearly +deserted. + +'No,' she said. 'If you will kindly get me a rug from Mrs. +Swancourt, I should like, if you don't mind, to stay here.' She +had recently fancied the assumed Mrs. Jethway might be a first- +class passenger, and dreaded meeting her by accident. + +Knight appeared with the rug, and they sat down behind a weather- +cloth on the windward side, just as the two red eyes of the +Needles glared upon them from the gloom, their pointed summits +rising like shadowy phantom figures against the sky. It became +necessary to go below to an eight-o'clock meal of nondescript +kind, and Elfride was immensely relieved at finding no sign of +Mrs. Jethway there. They again ascended, and remained above till +Mrs. Snewson staggered up to them with the message that Mrs. +Swancourt thought it was time for Elfride to come below. Knight +accompanied her down, and returned again to pass a little more +time on deck. + +Elfride partly undressed herself and lay down, and soon became +unconscious, though her sleep was light How long she had lain, she +knew not, when by slow degrees she became cognizant of a +whispering in her ear. + +'You are well on with him, I can see. Well, provoke me now, but +my day will come, you will find.' That seemed to be the utterance, +or words to that effect. + +Elfride became broad awake and terrified. She knew the words, if +real, could be only those of one person, and that person the widow +Jethway. + +The lamp had gone out and the place was in darkness. In the next +berth she could hear her stepmother breathing heavily, further on +Snewson breathing more heavily still. These were the only other +legitimate occupants of the cabin, and Mrs. Jethway must have +stealthily come in by some means and retreated again, or else she +had entered an empty berth next Snewson's. The fear that this was +the case increased Elfride's perturbation, till it assumed the +dimensions of a certainty, for how could a stranger from the other +end of the ship possibly contrive to get in? Could it have been a +dream? + +Elfride raised herself higher and looked out of the window. There +was the sea, floundering and rushing against the ship's side just +by her head, and thence stretching away, dim and moaning, into an +expanse of indistinctness; and far beyond all this two placid +lights like rayless stars. Now almost fearing to turn her face +inwards again, lest Mrs. Jethway should appear at her elbow, +Elfride meditated upon whether to call Snewson to keep her +company. 'Four bells ' sounded, and she heard voices, which gave +her a little courage. It was not worth while to call Snewson. + +At any rate Elfride could not stay there panting longer, at the +risk of being again disturbed by that dreadful whispering. So +wrapping herself up hurriedly she emerged into the passage, and by +the aid of a faint light burning at the entrance to the saloon +found the foot of the stairs, and ascended to the deck. Dreary +the place was in the extreme. It seemed a new spot altogether in +contrast with its daytime self. She could see the glowworm light +from the binnacle, and the dim outline of the man at the wheel; +also a form at the bows. Not another soul was apparent from stem +to stern. + +Yes, there were two more--by the bulwarks. One proved to be her +Harry, the other the mate. She was glad indeed, and on drawing +closer found they were holding a low slow chat about nautical +affairs. She ran up and slipped her hand through Knight's arm, +partly for love, partly for stability. + +'Elfie! not asleep?' said Knight, after moving a few steps aside +with her. + +'No: I cannot sleep. May I stay here? It is so dismal down there, +and--and I was afraid. Where are we now?' + +'Due south of Portland Bill. Those are the lights abeam of us: +look. A terrible spot, that, on a stormy night. And do you see a +very small light that dips and rises to the right? That's a light- +ship on the dangerous shoal called the Shambles, where many a good +vessel has gone to pieces. Between it and ourselves is the Race-- +a place where antagonistic currents meet and form whirlpools--a +spot which is rough in the smoothest weather, and terrific in a +wind. That dark, dreary horizon we just discern to the left is +the West Bay, terminated landwards by the Chesil Beach.' + +'What time is it, Harry?' + +'Just past two.' + +'Are you going below?' + +'Oh no; not to-night. I prefer pure air.' + +She fancied he might be displeased with her for coming to him at +this unearthly hour. 'I should like to stay here too, if you will +allow me,' she said timidly. + +'I want to ask you things.' + +'Allow you, Elfie!' said Knight, putting his arm round her and +drawing her closer. 'I am twice as happy with you by my side. +Yes: we will stay, and watch the approach of day.' + +So they again sought out the sheltered nook, and sitting down +wrapped themselves in the rug as before. + +'What were you going to ask me?' he inquired, as they undulated up +and down. + +'Oh, it was not much--perhaps a thing I ought not to ask,' she +said hesitatingly. Her sudden wish had really been to discover at +once whether he had ever before been engaged to be married. If he +had, she would make that a ground for telling him a little of her +conduct with Stephen. Mrs. Jethway's seeming words had so +depressed the girl that she herself now painted her flight in the +darkest colours, and longed to ease her burdened mind by an +instant confession. If Knight had ever been imprudent himself, he +might, she hoped, forgive all. + +'I wanted to ask you,' she went on, 'if--you had ever been engaged +before.' She added tremulously, 'I hope you have--I mean, I don't +mind at all if you have.' + +'No, I never was,' Knight instantly and heartily replied. +'Elfride'--and there was a certain happy pride in his tone--'I am +twelve years older than you, and I have been about the world, and, +in a way, into society, and you have not. And yet I am not so +unfit for you as strict-thinking people might imagine, who would +assume the difference in age to signify most surely an equal +addition to my practice in love-making.' + +Elfride shivered. + +'You are cold--is the wind too much for you?' + +'No,' she said gloomily. The belief which had been her sheet- +anchor in hoping for forgiveness had proved false. This account +of the exceptional nature of his experience, a matter which would +have set her rejoicing two years ago, chilled her now like a +frost. + +'You don't mind my asking you?' she continued. + +'Oh no--not at all.' + +'And have you never kissed many ladies?' she whispered, hoping he +would say a hundred at the least. + +The time, the circumstances, and the scene were such as to draw +confidences from the most reserved. 'Elfride,' whispered Knight +in reply, 'it is strange you should have asked that question. But +I'll answer it, though I have never told such a thing before. I +have been rather absurd in my avoidance of women. I have never +given a woman a kiss in my life, except yourself and my mother.' +The man of two and thirty with the experienced mind warmed all +over with a boy's ingenuous shame as he made the confession. + +'What, not one?' she faltered. + +'No; not one.' + +'How very strange!' + +'Yes, the reverse experience may be commoner. And yet, to those +who have observed their own sex, as I have, my case is not +remarkable. Men about town are women's favourites--that's the +postulate--and superficial people don't think far enough to see +that there may be reserved, lonely exceptions.' + +'Are you proud of it, Harry?' + +'No, indeed. Of late years I have wished I had gone my ways and +trod out my measure like lighter-hearted men. I have thought of +how many happy experiences I may have lost through never going to +woo.' + +'Then why did you hold aloof?' + +'I cannot say. I don't think it was my nature to: circumstance +hindered me, perhaps. I have regretted it for another reason. +This great remissness of mine has had its effect upon me. The +older I have grown, the more distinctly have I perceived that it +was absolutely preventing me from liking any woman who was not as +unpractised as I; and I gave up the expectation of finding a +nineteenth-century young lady in my own raw state. Then I found +you, Elfride, and l felt for the first time that my fastidiousness +was a blessing. And it helped to make me worthy of you. I felt +at once that, differing as we did in other experiences, in this +matter I resembled you. Well, aren't you glad to hear it, +Elfride?' + +'Yes, I am,' she answered in a forced voice. 'But I always had +thought that men made lots of engagements before they married-- +especially if they don't marry very young.' + +'So all women think, I suppose--and rightly, indeed, of the +majority of bachelors, as I said before. But an appreciable +minority of slow-coach men do not--and it makes them very awkward +when they do come to the point. However, it didn't matter in my +case.' + +'Why?' she asked uneasily. + +'Because you know even less of love-making and matrimonial +prearrangement than I, and so you can't draw invidious comparisons +if I do my engaging improperly.' + +'I think you do it beautifully!' + +'Thank you, dear. But,' continued Knight laughingly, 'your +opinion is not that of an expert, which alone is of value.' + +Had she answered, 'Yes, it is,' half as strongly as she felt it, +Knight might have been a little astonished. + +'If you had ever been engaged to be married before,' he went on, +'I expect your opinion of my addresses would be different. But +then, I should not----' + +'Should not what, Harry?' + +'Oh, I was merely going to say that in that case I should never +have given myself the pleasure of proposing to you, since your +freedom from that experience was your attraction, darling.' + +'You are severe on women, are you not?' + +'No, I think not. I had a right to please my taste, and that was +for untried lips. Other men than those of my sort acquire the +taste as they get older--but don't find an Elfride----' + +'What horrid sound is that we hear when we pitch forward?' + +'Only the screw--don't find an Elfride as I did. To think that I +should have discovered such an unseen flower down there in the +West--to whom a man is as much as a multitude to some women, and a +trip down the English Channel like a voyage round the world!' + +'And would you,' she said, and her voice was tremulous, 'have +given up a lady--if you had become engaged to her--and then found +she had had ONE kiss before yours--and would you have--gone away +and left her?' + +'One kiss,--no, hardly for that.' + +'Two?' + +'Well--I could hardly say inventorially like that. Too much of +that sort of thing certainly would make me dislike a woman. But +let us confine our attention to ourselves, not go thinking of +might have beens.' + +So Elfride had allowed her thoughts to 'dally with false surmise,' +and every one of Knight's words fell upon her like a weight. +After this they were silent for a long time, gazing upon the black +mysterious sea, and hearing the strange voice of the restless +wind. A rocking to and fro on the waves, when the breeze is not +too violent and cold, produces a soothing effect even upon the +most highly-wrought mind. Elfride slowly sank against Knight, and +looking down, he found by her soft regular breathing that she had +fallen asleep. Not wishing to disturb her, he continued still, +and took an intense pleasure in supporting her warm young form as +it rose and fell with her every breath. + +Knight fell to dreaming too, though he continued wide awake. It +was pleasant to realize the implicit trust she placed in him, and +to think of the charming innocence of one who could sink to sleep +in so simple and unceremonious a manner. More than all, the +musing unpractical student felt the immense responsibility he was +taking upon himself by becoming the protector and guide of such a +trusting creature. The quiet slumber of her soul lent a quietness +to his own. Then she moaned, and turned herself restlessly. +Presently her mutterings became distinct: + +'Don't tell him--he will not love me....I did not mean any +disgrace--indeed I did not, so don't tell Harry. We were going to +be married--that was why I ran away....And he says he will not +have a kissed woman....And if you tell him he will go away, and I +shall die. I pray have mercy--Oh!' + +Elfride started up wildly. + +The previous moment a musical ding-dong had spread into the air +from their right hand, and awakened her. + +'What is it?' she exclaimed in terror. + +'Only "eight bells,"' said Knight soothingly. 'Don't be +frightened, little bird, you are safe. What have you been +dreaming about?' + +'I can't tell, I can't tell!' she said with a shudder. 'Oh, I +don't know what to do!' + +'Stay quietly with me. We shall soon see the dawn now. Look, the +morning star is lovely over there. The clouds have completely +cleared off whilst you have been sleeping. What have you been +dreaming of?' + +'A woman in our parish.' + +'Don't you like her?' + +'I don't. She doesn't like me. Where are we?' + +'About south of the Exe.' + +Knight said no more on the words of her dream. They watched the +sky till Elfride grew calm, and the dawn appeared. It was mere +wan lightness first. Then the wind blew in a changed spirit, and +died away to a zephyr. The star dissolved into the day. + +'That's how I should like to die,' said Elfride, rising from her +seat and leaning over the bulwark to watch the star's last +expiring gleam. + +'As the lines say,' Knight replied---- + + + '"To set as sets the morning star, which goes + Not down behind the darken'd west, nor hides + Obscured among the tempests of the sky, + But melts away into the light of heaven."' + + +'Oh, other people have thought the same thing, have they? That's +always the case with my originalities--they are original to nobody +but myself.' + +'Not only the case with yours. When I was a young hand at +reviewing I used to find that a frightful pitfall--dilating upon +subjects I met with, which were novelties to me, and finding +afterwards they had been exhausted by the thinking world when I +was in pinafores.' + +'That is delightful. Whenever I find you have done a foolish +thing I am glad, because it seems to bring you a little nearer to +me, who have done many.' And Elfride thought again of her enemy +asleep under the deck they trod. + +All up the coast, prominences singled themselves out from +recesses. Then a rosy sky spread over the eastern sea and behind +the low line of land, flinging its livery in dashes upon the thin +airy clouds in that direction. Every projection on the land +seemed now so many fingers anxious to catch a little of the liquid +light thrown so prodigally over the sky, and after a fantastic +time of lustrous yellows in the east, the higher elevations along +the shore were flooded with the same hues. The bluff and bare +contours of Start Point caught the brightest, earliest glow of +all, and so also did the sides of its white lighthouse, perched +upon a shelf in its precipitous front like a mediaeval saint in a +niche. Their lofty neighbour Bolt Head on the left remained as +yet ungilded, and retained its gray. + +Then up came the sun, as it were in jerks, just to seaward of the +easternmost point of land, flinging out a Jacob's-ladder path of +light from itself to Elfride and Knight, and coating them with +rays in a few minutes. The inferior dignitaries of the shore-- +Froward Point, Berry Head, and Prawle--all had acquired their +share of the illumination ere this, and at length the very +smallest protuberance of wave, cliff, or inlet, even to the +innermost recesses of the lovely valley of the Dart, had its +portion; and sunlight, now the common possession of all, ceased to +be the wonderful and coveted thing it had been a short half hour +before. + +After breakfast, Plymouth arose into view, and grew distincter to +their nearing vision, the Breakwater appearing like a streak of +phosphoric light upon the surface of the sea. Elfride looked +furtively around for Mrs. Jethway, but could discern no shape like +hers. Afterwards, in the bustle of landing, she looked again with +the same result, by which time the woman had probably glided upon +the quay unobserved. Expanding with a sense of relief, Elfride +waited whilst Knight looked to their luggage, and then saw her +father approaching through the crowd, twirling his walking-stick +to catch their attention. Elbowing their way to him they all +entered the town, which smiled as sunny a smile upon Elfride as it +had done between one and two years earlier, when she had entered +it at precisely the same hour as the bride-elect of Stephen Smith. + + + +Chapter XXX + +'Vassal unto Love.' + + +Elfride clung closer to Knight as day succeeded day. Whatever +else might admit of question, there could be no dispute that the +allegiance she bore him absorbed her whole soul and existence. A +greater than Stephen had arisen, and she had left all to follow +him. + +The unreserved girl was never chary of letting her lover discover +how much she admired him. She never once held an idea in +opposition to any one of his, or insisted on any point with him, +or showed any independence, or held her own on any subject. His +lightest whim she respected and obeyed as law, and if, expressing +her opinion on a matter, he took up the subject and differed from +her, she instantly threw down her own opinion as wrong and +untenable. Even her ambiguities and espieglerie were but media of +the same manifestation; acted charades, embodying the words of her +prototype, the tender and susceptible daughter-in-law of Naomi: +'Let me find favour in thy sight, my lord; for that thou hast +comforted me, and for that thou hast spoken friendly unto thine +handmaid.' + +She was syringing the plants one wet day in the greenhouse. +Knight was sitting under a great passion-flower observing the +scene. Sometimes he looked out at the rain from the sky, and then +at Elfride's inner rain of larger drops, which fell from trees and +shrubs, after having previously hung from the twigs like small +silver fruit. + +'I must give you something to make you think of me during this +autumn at your chambers,' she was saying. 'What shall it be? +Portraits do more harm than good, by selecting the worst +expression of which your face is capable. Hair is unlucky. And +you don't like jewellery.' + +'Something which shall bring back to my mind the many scenes we +have enacted in this conservatory. I see what I should prize very +much. That dwarf myrtle tree in the pot, which you have been so +carefully tending.' + +Elfride looked thoughtfully at the myrtle. + +'I can carry it comfortably in my hat box,' said Knight. 'And I +will put it in my window, and so, it being always before my eyes, +I shall think of you continually.' + +It so happened that the myrtle which Knight had singled out had a +peculiar beginning and history. It had originally been a twig +worn in Stephen Smith's button-hole, and he had taken it thence, +stuck it into the pot, and told her that if it grew, she was to +take care of it, and keep it in remembrance of him when he was far +away. + +She looked wistfully at the plant, and a sense of fairness to +Smith's memory caused her a pang of regret that Knight should have +asked for that very one. It seemed exceeding a common +heartlessness to let it go. + +'Is there not anything you like better?' she said sadly. 'That is +only an ordinary myrtle.' + +'No: I am fond of myrtle.' Seeing that she did not take kindly to +the idea, he said again, 'Why do you object to my having that?' + +'Oh no--I don't object precisely--it was a feeling.--Ah, here's +another cutting lately struck, and just as small--of a better +kind, and with prettier leaves--myrtus microphylla.' + +'That will do nicely. Let it be put in my room, that I may not +forget it. What romance attaches to the other?' + +'It was a gift to me.' + +The subject then dropped. Knight thought no more of the matter +till, on entering his bedroom in the evening, he found the second +myrtle placed upon his dressing-table as he had directed. He +stood for a moment admiring the fresh appearance of the leaves by +candlelight, and then he thought of the transaction of the day. + +Male lovers as well as female can be spoilt by too much kindness, +and Elfride's uniform submissiveness had given Knight a rather +exacting manner at crises, attached to her as he was. 'Why should +she have refused the one I first chose?' he now asked himself. +Even such slight opposition as she had shown then was exceptional +enough to make itself noticeable. He was not vexed with her in +the least: the mere variation of her way to-day from her usual +ways kept him musing on the subject, because it perplexed him. +'It was a gift'--those were her words. Admitting it to be a gift, +he thought she could hardly value a mere friend more than she +valued him as a lover, and giving the plant into his charge would +have made no difference. 'Except, indeed, it was the gift of a +lover,' he murmured. + +'I wonder if Elfride has ever had a lover before?' he said aloud, +as a new idea, quite. This and companion thoughts were enough to +occupy him completely till he fell asleep--rather later than +usual. + +The next day, when they were again alone, he said to her rather +suddenly-- + +'Do you love me more or less, Elfie, for what I told you on board +the steamer?' + +'You told me so many things,' she returned, lifting her eyes to +his and smiling. + +'I mean the confession you coaxed out of me--that I had never been +in the position of lover before.' + +'It is a satisfaction, I suppose, to be the first in your heart,' +she said to him, with an attempt to continue her smiling. + +'I am going to ask you a question now,' said Knight, somewhat +awkwardly. 'I only ask it in a whimsical way, you know: not with +great seriousness, Elfride. You may think it odd, perhaps.' + +Elfride tried desperately to keep the colour in her face. She +could not, though distressed to think that getting pale showed +consciousness of deeper guilt than merely getting red. + +'Oh no--I shall not think that,' she said, because obliged to say +something to fill the pause which followed her questioner's +remark. + +'It is this: have you ever had a lover? I am almost sure you have +not; but, have you?' + +'Not, as it were, a lover; I mean, not worth mentioning, Harry,' +she faltered. + +Knight, overstrained in sentiment as he knew the feeling to be, +felt some sickness of heart. + +'Still, he was a lover?' + +'Well, a sort of lover, I suppose,' she responded tardily. + +'A man, I mean, you know.' + +'Yes; but only a mere person, and----' + +'But truly your lover?' + +'Yes; a lover certainly--he was that. Yes, he might have been +called my lover.' + +Knight said nothing to this for a minute or more, and kept silent +time with his finger to the tick of the old library clock, in +which room the colloquy was going on. + +'You don't mind, Harry, do you?' she said anxiously, nestling +close to him, and watching his face. + +'Of course, I don't seriously mind. In reason, a man cannot +object to such a trifle. I only thought you hadn't--that was +all.' + +However, one ray was abstracted from the glory about her head. +But afterwards, when Knight was wandering by himself over the bare +and breezy hills, and meditating on the subject, that ray suddenly +returned. For she might have had a lover, and never have cared in +the least for him. She might have used the word improperly, and +meant 'admirer' all the time. Of course she had been admired; and +one man might have made his admiration more prominent than that of +the rest--a very natural case. + +They were sitting on one of the garden seats when he found +occasion to put the supposition to the test. 'Did you love that +lover or admirer of yours ever so little, Elfie?' + +She murmured reluctantly, 'Yes, I think I did.' + +Knight felt the same faint touch of misery. 'Only a very little?' +he said. + +'I am not sure how much.' + +'But you are sure, darling, you loved him a little?' + +'I think I am sure I loved him a little.' + +'And not a great deal, Elfie?' + +'My love was not supported by reverence for his powers.' + +'But, Elfride, did you love him deeply?' said Knight restlessly. + +'I don't exactly know how deep you mean by deeply.' + +'That's nonsense.' + +'You misapprehend; and you have let go my hand!' she cried, her +eyes filling with tears. 'Harry, don't be severe with me, and +don't question me. I did not love him as I do you. And could it +be deeply if I did not think him cleverer than myself? For I did +not. You grieve me so much--you can't think.' + +'I will not say another word about it.' + +'And you will not think about it, either, will you? I know you +think of weaknesses in me after I am out of your sight; and not +knowing what they are, I cannot combat them. I almost wish you +were of a grosser nature, Harry; in truth I do! Or rather, I wish +I could have the advantages such a nature in you would afford me, +and yet have you as you are.' + +'What advantages would they be?' + +'Less anxiety, and more security. Ordinary men are not so +delicate in their tastes as you; and where the lover or husband is +not fastidious, and refined, and of a deep nature, things seem to +go on better, I fancy--as far as I have been able to observe the +world.' + +'Yes; I suppose it is right. Shallowness has this advantage, that +you can't be drowned there.' + +'But I think I'll have you as you are; yes, I will!' she said +winsomely. 'The practical husbands and wives who take things +philosophically are very humdrum, are they not? Yes, it would kill +me quite. You please me best as you are.' + +'Even though I wish you had never cared for one before me?' + +'Yes. And you must not wish it. Don't!' + +'I'll try not to, Elfride.' + +So she hoped, but her heart was troubled. If he felt so deeply on +this point, what would he say did he know all, and see it as Mrs. +Jethway saw it? He would never make her the happiest girl in the +world by taking her to be his own for aye. The thought enclosed +her as a tomb whenever it presented itself to her perturbed brain. +She tried to believe that Mrs. Jethway would never do her such a +cruel wrong as to increase the bad appearance of her folly by +innuendoes; and concluded that concealment, having been begun, +must be persisted in, if possible. For what he might consider as +bad as the fact, was her previous concealment of it by strategy. + +But Elfride knew Mrs. Jethway to be her enemy, and to hate her. +It was possible she would do her worst. And should she do it, all +might be over. + +Would the woman listen to reason, and be persuaded not to ruin one +who had never intentionally harmed her? + + + +It was night in the valley between Endelstow Crags and the shore. +The brook which trickled that way to the sea was distinct in its +murmurs now, and over the line of its course there began to hang a +white riband of fog. Against the sky, on the left hand of the +vale, the black form of the church could be seen. On the other +rose hazel-bushes, a few trees, and where these were absent, furze +tufts--as tall as men--on stems nearly as stout as timber. The +shriek of some bird was occasionally heard, as it flew terror- +stricken from its first roost, to seek a new sleeping-place, where +it might pass the night unmolested. + +In the evening shade, some way down the valley, and under a row of +scrubby oaks, a cottage could still be discerned. It stood +absolutely alone. The house was rather large, and the windows of +some of the rooms were nailed up with boards on the outside, which +gave a particularly deserted appearance to the whole erection. +From the front door an irregular series of rough and misshapen +steps, cut in the solid rock, led down to the edge of the +streamlet, which, at their extremity, was hollowed into a basin +through which the water trickled. This was evidently the means of +water supply to the dweller or dwellers in the cottage. + +A light footstep was heard descending from the higher slopes of +the hillside. Indistinct in the pathway appeared a moving female +shape, who advanced and knocked timidly at the door. No answer +being returned the knock was repeated, with the same result, and +it was then repeated a third time. This also was unsuccessful. + +From one of the only two windows on the ground floor which were +not boarded up came rays of light, no shutter or curtain obscuring +the room from the eyes of a passer on the outside. So few walked +that way after nightfall that any such means to secure secrecy +were probably deemed unnecessary. + +The inequality of the rays falling upon the trees outside told +that the light had its origin in a flickering fire only. The +visitor, after the third knocking, stepped a little to the left in +order to gain a view of the interior, and threw back the hood from +her face. The dancing yellow sheen revealed the fair and anxious +countenance of Elfride. + +Inside the house this firelight was enough to illumine the room +distinctly, and to show that the furniture of the cottage was +superior to what might have been expected from so unpromising an +exterior. It also showed to Elfride that the room was empty. +Beyond the light quiver and flap of the flames nothing moved or +was audible therein. + +She turned the handle and entered, throwing off the cloak which +enveloped her, under which she appeared without hat or bonnet, and +in the sort of half-toilette country people ordinarily dine in. +Then advancing to the foot of the staircase she called distinctly, +but somewhat fearfully, 'Mrs. Jethway!' + +No answer. + +With a look of relief and regret combined, denoting that ease came +to the heart and disappointment to the brain, Elfride paused for +several minutes, as if undecided how to act. Determining to wait, +she sat down on a chair. The minutes drew on, and after sitting +on the thorns of impatience for half an hour, she searched her +pocket, took therefrom a letter, and tore off the blank leaf. +Then taking out a pencil she wrote upon the paper: + + +'DEAR MRS. JETHWAY,--I have been to visit you. I wanted much to +see you, but I cannot wait any longer. I came to beg you not to +execute the threats you have repeated to me. Do not, I beseech +you, Mrs. Jethway, let any one know I ran away from home! It would +ruin me with him, and break my heart. I will do anything for you, +if you will be kind to me. In the name of our common womanhood, +do not, I implore you, make a scandal of me.--Yours, E. +SWANCOURT.' + + +She folded the note cornerwise, directed it, and placed it on the +table. Then again drawing the hood over her curly head she +emerged silently as she had come. + +Whilst this episode had been in action at Mrs. Jethway's cottage, +Knight had gone from the dining-room into the drawing-room, and +found Mrs. Swancourt there alone. + +'Elfride has vanished upstairs or somewhere,' she said. + +'And I have been reading an article in an old number of the +PRESENT that I lighted on by chance a short time ago; it is an +article you once told us was yours. Well, Harry, with due +deference to your literary powers, allow me to say that this +effusion is all nonsense, in my opinion.' + +'What is it about?' said Knight, taking up the paper and reading. + +'There: don't get red about it. Own that experience has taught +you to be more charitable. I have never read such unchivalrous +sentiments in my life--from a man, I mean. There, I forgive you; +it was before you knew Elfride.' + +'Oh yes,' said Knight, looking up. 'I remember now. The text of +that sermon was not my own at all, but was suggested to me by a +young man named Smith--the same whom I have mentioned to you as +coming from this parish. I thought the idea rather ingenious at +the time, and enlarged it to the weight of a few guineas, because +I had nothing else in my head.' + +'Which idea do you call the text? I am curious to know that.' + +'Well, this,' said Knight, somewhat unwillingly. 'That experience +teaches, and your sweetheart, no less than your tailor, is +necessarily very imperfect in her duties, if you are her first +patron: and conversely, the sweetheart who is graceful under the +initial kiss must be supposed to have had some practice in the +trade.' + +'And do you mean to say that you wrote that upon the strength of +another man's remark, without having tested it by practice?' + +'Yes--indeed I do.' + +'Then I think it was uncalled for and unfair. And how do you know +it is true? I expect you regret it now.' + +'Since you bring me into a serious mood, I will speak candidly. I +do believe that remark to be perfectly true, and, having written +it, I would defend it anywhere. But I do often regret having ever +written it, as well as others of the sort. I have grown older +since, and I find such a tone of writing is calculated to do harm +in the world. Every literary Jack becomes a gentleman if he can +only pen a few indifferent satires upon womankind: women +themselves, too, have taken to the trick; and so, upon the whole, +I begin to be rather ashamed of my companions.' + +'Ah, Henry, you have fallen in love since and it makes a +difference,' said Mrs. Swancourt with a faint tone of banter. + +'That's true; but that is not my reason.' + +'Having found that, in a case of your own experience, a so-called +goose was a swan, it seems absurd to deny such a possibility in +other men's experiences.' + +'You can hit palpably, cousin Charlotte,' said Knight. 'You are +like the boy who puts a stone inside his snowball, and I shall +play with you no longer. Excuse me--I am going for my evening +stroll.' + +Though Knight had spoken jestingly, this incident and conversation +had caused him a sudden depression. Coming, rather singularly, +just after his discovery that Elfride had known what it was to +love warmly before she had known him, his mind dwelt upon the +subject, and the familiar pipe he smoked, whilst pacing up and +down the shrubbery-path, failed to be a solace. He thought again +of those idle words--hitherto quite forgotten--about the first +kiss of a girl, and the theory seemed more than reasonable. Of +course their sting now lay in their bearing on Elfride. + +Elfride, under Knight's kiss, had certainly been a very different +woman from herself under Stephen's. Whether for good or for ill, +she had marvellously well learnt a betrothed lady's part; and the +fascinating finish of her deportment in this second campaign did +probably arise from her unreserved encouragement of Stephen. +Knight, with all the rapidity of jealous sensitiveness, pounced +upon some words she had inadvertently let fall about an earring, +which he had only partially understood at the time. It was during +that 'initial kiss' by the little waterfall: + +'We must be careful. I lost the other by doing this!' + +A flush which had in it as much of wounded pride as of sorrow, +passed over Knight as he thought of what he had so frequently said +to her in his simplicity. 'I always meant to be the first comer +in a woman's heart, fresh lips or none for me.' How childishly +blind he must have seemed to this mere girl! How she must have +laughed at him inwardly! He absolutely writhed as he thought of +the confession she had wrung from him on the boat in the darkness +of night. The one conception which had sustained his dignity when +drawn out of his shell on that occasion--that of her charming +ignorance of all such matters--how absurd it was! + +This man, whose imagination had been fed up to preternatural size +by lonely study and silent observations of his kind--whose +emotions had been drawn out long and delicate by his seclusion, +like plants in a cellar--was now absolutely in pain. Moreover, +several years of poetic study, and, if the truth must be told, +poetic efforts, had tended to develop the affective side of his +constitution still further, in proportion to his active faculties. +It was his belief in the absolute newness of blandishment to +Elfride which had constituted her primary charm. He began to +think it was as hard to be earliest in a woman's heart as it was +to be first in the Pool of Bethesda. + +That Knight should have been thus constituted: that Elfride's +second lover should not have been one of the great mass of +bustling mankind, little given to introspection, whose good-nature +might have compensated for any lack of appreciativeness, was the +chance of things. That her throbbing, self-confounding, +indiscreet heart should have to defend itself unaided against the +keen scrutiny and logical power which Knight, now that his +suspicions were awakened, would sooner or later be sure to +exercise against her, was her misfortune. A miserable incongruity +was apparent in the circumstance of a strong mind practising its +unerring archery upon a heart which the owner of that mind loved +better than his own. + +Elfride's docile devotion to Knight was now its own enemy. +Clinging to him so dependently, she taught him in time to presume +upon that devotion--a lesson men are not slow to learn. A slight +rebelliousness occasionally would have done him no harm, and would +have been a world of advantage to her. But she idolized him, and +was proud to be his bond-servant. + + + +Chapter XXXI + +'A worm i' the bud.' + + +One day the reviewer said, 'Let us go to the cliffs again, +Elfride;' and, without consulting her wishes, he moved as if to +start at once. + +'The cliff of our dreadful adventure?' she inquired, with a +shudder. 'Death stares me in the face in the person of that +cliff.' + +Nevertheless, so entirely had she sunk her individuality in his +that the remark was not uttered as an expostulation, and she +immediately prepared to accompany him. + +'No, not that place,' said Knight. 'It is ghastly to me, too. +That other, I mean; what is its name?--Windy Beak.' + +Windy Beak was the second cliff in height along that coast, and, +as is frequently the case with the natural features of the globe +no less than with the intellectual features of men, it enjoyed the +reputation of being the first. Moreover, it was the cliff to +which Elfride had ridden with Stephen Smith, on a well-remembered +morning of his summer visit. + +So, though thought of the former cliff had caused her to shudder +at the perils to which her lover and herself had there been +exposed, by being associated with Knight only it was not so +objectionable as Windy Beak. That place was worse than gloomy, it +was a perpetual reproach to her. + +But not liking to refuse, she said, 'It is further than the other +cliff.' + +'Yes; but you can ride.' + +'And will you too?' + +'No, I'll walk.' + +A duplicate of her original arrangement with Stephen. Some +fatality must be hanging over her head. But she ceased objecting. + +'Very well, Harry, I'll ride,' she said meekly. + +A quarter of an hour later she was in the saddle. But how +different the mood from that of the former time. She had, indeed, +given up her position as queen of the less to be vassal of the +greater. Here was no showing off now; no scampering out of sight +with Pansy, to perplex and tire her companion; no saucy remarks on +LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI. Elfride was burdened with the very +intensity of her love. + +Knight did most of the talking along the journey. Elfride +silently listened, and entirely resigned herself to the motions of +the ambling horse upon which she sat, alternately rising and +sinking gently, like a sea bird upon a sea wave. + +When they had reached the limit of a quadruped's possibilities in +walking, Knight tenderly lifted her from the saddle, tied the +horse, and rambled on with her to the seat in the rock. Knight +sat down, and drew Elfride deftly beside him, and they looked over +the sea. + +Two or three degrees above that melancholy and eternally level +line, the ocean horizon, hung a sun of brass, with no visible +rays, in a sky of ashen hue. It was a sky the sun did not +illuminate or enkindle, as is usual at sunsets. This sheet of sky +was met by the salt mass of gray water, flecked here and there +with white. A waft of dampness occasionally rose to their faces, +which was probably rarefied spray from the blows of the sea upon +the foot of the cliff. + +Elfride wished it could be a longer time ago that she had sat +there with Stephen as her lover, and agreed to be his wife. The +significant closeness of that time to the present was another item +to add to the list of passionate fears which were chronic with her +now. + +Yet Knight was very tender this evening, and sustained her close +to him as they sat. + +Not a word had been uttered by either since sitting down, when +Knight said musingly, looking still afar-- + +'I wonder if any lovers in past years ever sat here with arms +locked, as we do now. Probably they have, for the place seems +formed for a seat.' + +Her recollection of a well-known pair who had, and the much- +talked-of loss which had ensued therefrom, and how the young man +had been sent back to look for the missing article, led Elfride to +glance down to her side, and behind her back. Many people who +lose a trinket involuntarily give a momentary look for it in +passing the spot ever so long afterwards. They do not often find +it. Elfride, in turning her head, saw something shine weakly from +a crevice in the rocky sedile. Only for a few minutes during the +day did the sun light the alcove to its innermost rifts and slits, +but these were the minutes now, and its level rays did Elfride the +good or evil turn of revealing the lost ornament. + +Elfride's thoughts instantly reverted to the words she had +unintentionally uttered upon what had been going on when the +earring was lost. And she was immediately seized with a misgiving +that Knight, on seeing the object, would be reminded of her words. +Her instinctive act therefore was to secure it privately. + +It was so deep in the crack that Elfride could not pull it out +with her hand, though she made several surreptitious trials. + +'What are you doing, Elfie?' said Knight, noticing her attempts, +and looking behind him likewise. + +She had relinquished the endeavour, but too late. + +Knight peered into the joint from which her hand had been +withdrawn, and saw what she had seen. He instantly took a +penknife from his pocket, and by dint of probing and scraping +brought the earring out upon open ground. + +'It is not yours, surely?' he inquired. + +'Yes, it is,' she said quietly. + +'Well, that is a most extraordinary thing, that we should find it +like this!' Knight then remembered more circumstances; 'What, is +it the one you have told me of?' + +'Yes.' + +The unfortunate remark of hers at the kiss came into his mind, if +eyes were ever an index to be trusted. Trying to repress the +words he yet spoke on the subject, more to obtain assurance that +what it had seemed to imply was not true than from a wish to pry +into bygones. + +'Were you really engaged to be married to that lover?' he said, +looking straight forward at the sea again. + +'Yes--but not exactly. Yet I think I was.' + +'O Elfride, engaged to be married!' he murmured. + +'It would have been called a--secret engagement, I suppose. But +don't look so disappointed; don't blame me.' + +'No, no.' + +'Why do you say "No, no," in such a way? Sweetly enough, but so +barely?' + +Knight made no direct reply to this. 'Elfride, I told you once,' +he said, following out his thoughts, 'that I never kissed a woman +as a sweetheart until I kissed you. A kiss is not much, I +suppose, and it happens to few young people to be able to avoid +all blandishments and attentions except from the one they +afterwards marry. But I have peculiar weaknesses, Elfride; and +because I have led a peculiar life, I must suffer for it, I +suppose. I had hoped--well, what I had no right to hope in +connection with you. You naturally granted your former lover the +privileges you grant me.' + +A 'yes' came from her like the last sad whisper of a breeze. + +'And he used to kiss you--of course he did.' + +'Yes.' + +'And perhaps you allowed him a more free manner in his love-making +than I have shown in mine.' + +'No, I did not.' This was rather more alertly spoken. + +'But he adopted it without being allowed?' + +'Yes.' + +'How much I have made of you, Elfride, and how I have kept aloof!' +said Knight in deep and shaken tones. 'So many days and hours as +I have hoped in you--I have feared to kiss you more than those two +times. And he made no scruples to...' + +She crept closer to him and trembled as if with cold. Her dread +that the whole story, with random additions, would become known to +him, caused her manner to be so agitated that Knight was alarmed +and perplexed into stillness. The actual innocence which made her +think so fearfully of what, as the world goes, was not a great +matter, magnified her apparent guilt. It may have said to Knight +that a woman who was so flurried in the preliminaries must have a +dreadful sequel to her tale. + +'I know,' continued Knight, with an indescribable drag of manner +and intonation,--'I know I am absurdly scrupulous about you--that +I want you too exclusively mine. In your past before you knew me-- +from your very cradle--I wanted to think you had been mine. I +would make you mine by main force. Elfride,' he went on +vehemently, 'I can't help this jealousy over you! It is my nature, +and must be so, and I HATE the fact that you have been caressed +before: yes hate it!' + +She drew a long deep breath, which was half a sob. Knight's face +was hard, and he never looked at her at all, still fixing his gaze +far out to sea, which the sun had now resigned to the shade. In +high places it is not long from sunset to night, dusk being in a +measure banished, and though only evening where they sat, it had +been twilight in the valleys for half an hour. Upon the dull +expanse of sea there gradually intensified itself into existence +the gleam of a distant light-ship. + +'When that lover first kissed you, Elfride was it in such a place +as this?' + +'Yes, it was.' + +'You don't tell me anything but what I wring out of you. Why is +that? Why have you suppressed all mention of this when casual +confidences of mine should have suggested confidence in return? On +board the Juliet, why were you so secret? It seems like being made +a fool of, Elfride, to think that, when I was teaching you how +desirable it was that we should have no secrets from each other, +you were assenting in words, but in act contradicting me. +Confidence would have been so much more promising for our +happiness. If you had had confidence in me, and told me +willingly, I should--be different. But you suppress everything, +and I shall question you. Did you live at Endelstow at that +time?' + +'Yes,' she said faintly. + +'Where were you when he first kissed you?' + +'Sitting in this seat.' + +'Ah, I thought so!' said Knight, rising and facing her. + +'And that accounts for everything--the exclamation which you +explained deceitfully, and all! Forgive the harsh word, Elfride-- +forgive it.' He smiled a surface smile as he continued: 'What a +poor mortal I am to play second fiddle in everything and to be +deluded by fibs!' + +'Oh, don't say it; don't, Harry!' + +'Where did he kiss you besides here?' + +'Sitting on--a tomb in the--churchyard--and other places,' she +answered with slow recklessness. + +'Never mind, never mind,' he exclaimed, on seeing her tears and +perturbation. 'I don't want to grieve you. I don't care.' + +But Knight did care. + +'It makes no difference, you know,' he continued, seeing she did +not reply. + +'I feel cold,' said Elfride. 'Shall we go home?' + +'Yes; it is late in the year to sit long out of doors: we ought to +be off this ledge before it gets too dark to let us see our +footing. I daresay the horse is impatient.' + +Knight spoke the merest commonplace to her now. He had hoped to +the last moment that she would have volunteered the whole story of +her first attachment. It grew more and more distasteful to him +that she should have a secret of this nature. Such entire +confidence as he had pictured as about to exist between himself +and the innocent young wife who had known no lover's tones save +his--was this its beginning? He lifted her upon the horse, and +they went along constrainedly. The poison of suspicion was doing +its work well. + +An incident occurred on this homeward journey which was long +remembered by both, as adding shade to shadow. Knight could not +keep from his mind the words of Adam's reproach to Eve in PARADISE +LOST, and at last whispered them to himself-- + + + 'Fool'd and beguiled: by him thou, I by thee!' + + +'What did you say?' Elfride inquired timorously. + +'It was only a quotation.' + +They had now dropped into a hollow, and the church tower made its +appearance against the pale evening sky, its lower part being +hidden by some intervening trees. Elfride, being denied an +answer, was looking at the tower and trying to think of some +contrasting quotation she might use to regain his tenderness. +After a little thought she said in winning tones-- + +"Thou hast been my hope, and a strong tower for me against the +enemy."' + +They passed on. A few minutes later three or four birds were seen +to fly out of the tower. + +'The strong tower moves,' said Knight, with surprise. + +A corner of the square mass swayed forward, sank, and vanished. A +loud rumble followed, and a cloud of dust arose where all had +previously been so clear. + +'The church restorers have done it!' said Elfride. + +At this minute Mr. Swancourt was seen approaching them. He came +up with a bustling demeanour, apparently much engrossed by some +business in hand. + +'We have got the tower down!' he exclaimed. 'It came rather +quicker than we intended it should. The first idea was to take it +down stone by stone, you know. In doing this the crack widened +considerably, and it was not believed safe for the men to stand +upon the walls any longer. Then we decided to undermine it, and +three men set to work at the weakest corner this afternoon. They +had left off for the evening, intending to give the final blow to- +morrow morning, and had been home about half an hour, when down it +came. A very successful job--a very fine job indeed. But he was +a tough old fellow in spite of the crack.' Here Mr. Swancourt +wiped from his face the perspiration his excitement had caused +him. + +'Poor old tower!' said Elfride. + +'Yes, I am sorry for it,' said Knight. 'It was an interesting +piece of antiquity--a local record of local art.' + +'Ah, but my dear sir, we shall have a new one, expostulated Mr. +Swancourt; 'a splendid tower--designed by a first-rate London man-- +in the newest style of Gothic art, and full of Christian +feeling.' + +'Indeed!' said Knight. + +'Oh yes. Not in the barbarous clumsy architecture of this +neighbourhood; you see nothing so rough and pagan anywhere else in +England. When the men are gone, I would advise you to go and see +the church before anything further is done to it. You can now sit +in the chancel, and look down the nave through the west arch, and +through that far out to sea. In fact,' said Mr. Swancourt +significantly, 'if a wedding were performed at the altar to-morrow +morning, it might be witnessed from the deck of a ship on a voyage +to the South Seas, with a good glass. However, after dinner, when +the moon has risen, go up and see for yourselves.' + +Knight assented with feverish readiness. He had decided within +the last few minutes that he could not rest another night without +further talk with Elfride upon the subject which now divided them: +he was determined to know all, and relieve his disquiet in some +way. Elfride would gladly have escaped further converse alone +with him that night, but it seemed inevitable. + +Just after moonrise they left the house. How little any +expectation of the moonlight prospect--which was the ostensible +reason of their pilgrimage--had to do with Knight's real motive in +getting the gentle girl again upon his arm, Elfride no less than +himself well knew. + + + +Chapter XXXII + +'Had I wist before I kist' + + +It was now October, and the night air was chill. After looking to +see that she was well wrapped up, Knight took her along the +hillside path they had ascended so many times in each other's +company, when doubt was a thing unknown. On reaching the church +they found that one side of the tower was, as the vicar had +stated, entirely removed, and lying in the shape of rubbish at +their feet. The tower on its eastern side still was firm, and +might have withstood the shock of storms and the siege of +battering years for many a generation even now. They entered by +the side-door, went eastward, and sat down by the altar-steps. + +The heavy arch spanning the junction of tower and nave formed to- +night a black frame to a distant misty view, stretching far +westward. Just outside the arch came the heap of fallen stones, +then a portion of moonlit churchyard, then the wide and convex sea +behind. It was a coup-d'oeil which had never been possible since +the mediaeval masons first attached the old tower to the older +church it dignified, and hence must be supposed to have had an +interest apart from that of simple moonlight on ancient wall and +sea and shore--any mention of which has by this time, it is to be +feared, become one of the cuckoo-cries which are heard but not +regarded. Rays of crimson, blue, and purple shone upon the twain +from the east window behind them, wherein saints and angels vied +with each other in primitive surroundings of landscape and sky, +and threw upon the pavement at the sitters' feet a softer +reproduction of the same translucent hues, amid which the shadows +of the two living heads of Knight and Elfride were opaque and +prominent blots. Presently the moon became covered by a cloud, +and the iridescence died away. + +'There, it is gone!' said Knight. 'I've been thinking, Elfride, +that this place we sit on is where we may hope to kneel together +soon. But I am restless and uneasy, and you know why.' + +Before she replied the moonlight returned again, irradiating that +portion of churchyard within their view. It brightened the near +part first, and against the background which the cloud-shadow had +not yet uncovered stood, brightest of all, a white tomb--the tomb +of young Jethway. + +Knight, still alive on the subject of Elfride's secret, thought of +her words concerning the kiss that it once had occurred on a tomb +in this churchyard. + +'Elfride,' he said, with a superficial archness which did not half +cover an undercurrent of reproach, 'do you know, I think you might +have told me voluntarily about that past--of kisses and +betrothing--without giving me so much uneasiness and trouble. Was +that the tomb you alluded to as having sat on with him?' + +She waited an instant. 'Yes,' she said. + +The correctness of his random shot startled Knight; though, +considering that almost all the other memorials in the churchyard +were upright headstones upon which nobody could possibly sit, it +was not so wonderful. + +Elfride did not even now go on with the explanation her exacting +lover wished to have, and her reticence began to irritate him as +before. He was inclined to read her a lecture. + +'Why don't you tell me all?' he said somewhat indignantly. +'Elfride, there is not a single subject upon which I feel more +strongly than upon this--that everything ought to be cleared up +between two persons before they become husband and wife. See how +desirable and wise such a course is, in order to avoid +disagreeable contingencies in the form of discoveries afterwards. +For, Elfride, a secret of no importance at all may be made the +basis of some fatal misunderstanding only because it is +discovered, and not confessed. They say there never was a couple +of whom one had not some secret the other never knew or was +intended to know. This may or may not be true; but if it be true, +some have been happy in spite rather than in consequence of it. +If a man were to see another man looking significantly at his +wife, and she were blushing crimson and appearing startled, do you +think he would be so well satisfied with, for instance, her +truthful explanation that once, to her great annoyance, she +accidentally fainted into his arms, as if she had said it +voluntarily long ago, before the circumstance occurred which +forced it from her? Suppose that admirer you spoke of in +connection with the tomb yonder should turn up, and bother me. It +would embitter our lives, if I were then half in the dark, as I am +now!' + +Knight spoke the latter sentences with growing force. + +'It cannot be,' she said. + +'Why not?' he asked sharply. + +Elfride was distressed to find him in so stern a mood, and she +trembled. In a confusion of ideas, probably not intending a +wilful prevarication, she answered hurriedly-- + +'If he's dead, how can you meet him?' + +'Is he dead? Oh, that's different altogether!' said Knight, +immensely relieved. 'But, let me see--what did you say about that +tomb and him?' + +'That's his tomb,' she continued faintly. + +'What! was he who lies buried there the man who was your lover?' +Knight asked in a distinct voice. + +'Yes; and I didn't love him or encourage him.' + +'But you let him kiss you--you said so, you know, Elfride.' + +She made no reply. + +'Why,' said Knight, recollecting circumstances by degrees, 'you +surely said you were in some degree engaged to him--and of course +you were if he kissed you. And now you say you never encouraged +him. And I have been fancying you said--I am almost sure you did-- +that you were sitting with him ON that tomb. Good God!' he +cried, suddenly starting up in anger, 'are you telling me +untruths? Why should you play with me like this? I'll have the +right of it. Elfride, we shall never be happy! There's a blight +upon us, or me, or you, and it must be cleared off before we +marry.' Knight moved away impetuously as if to leave her. + +She jumped up and clutched his arm + +'Don't go, Harry--don't! + +'Tell me, then,' said Knight sternly. 'And remember this, no more +fibs, or, upon my soul, I shall hate you. Heavens! that I should +come to this, to be made a fool of by a girl's untruths----' + +'Don't, don't treat me so cruelly! O Harry, Harry, have pity, and +withdraw those dreadful words! I am truthful by nature--I am--and +I don't know how I came to make you misunderstand! But I was +frightened!' She quivered so in her perturbation that she shook +him with her {Note: sentence incomplete in text.} + +'Did you say you were sitting on that tomb?' he asked moodily. + +'Yes; and it was true.' + +'Then how, in the name of Heaven, can a man sit upon his own +tomb?' + +'That was another man. Forgive me, Harry, won't you?' + +'What, a lover in the tomb and a lover on it?' + +'Oh--Oh--yes!' + +'Then there were two before me? + +'I--suppose so.' + +'Now, don't be a silly woman with your supposing--I hate all +that,' said Knight contemptuously almost. 'Well, we learn strange +things. I don't know what I might have done--no man can say into +what shape circumstances may warp him--but I hardly think I should +have had the conscience to accept the favours of a new lover +whilst sitting over the poor remains of the old one; upon my soul, +I don't.' Knight, in moody meditation, continued looking towards +the tomb, which stood staring them in the face like an avenging +ghost. + +'But you wrong me--Oh, so grievously!" she cried. 'I did not +meditate any such thing: believe me, Harry, I did not. It only +happened so--quite of itself.' + +'Well, I suppose you didn't INTEND such a thing,' he said. +'Nobody ever does,' he sadly continued. + +'And him in the grave I never once loved.' + +'I suppose the second lover and you, as you sat there, vowed to be +faithful to each other for ever?' + +Elfride only replied by quick heavy breaths, showing she was on +the brink of a sob. + +'You don't choose to be anything but reserved, then?' he said +imperatively. + +'Of course we did,' she responded. + +'"Of course!" You seem to treat the subject very lightly?' + +'It is past, and is nothing to us now.' + +'Elfride, it is a nothing which, though it may make a careless man +laugh, cannot but make a genuine one grieve. It is a very gnawing +pain. Tell me straight through--all of it.' + +'Never. O Harry! how can you expect it when so little of it makes +you so harsh with me?' + +'Now, Elfride, listen to this. You know that what you have told +only jars the subtler fancies in one, after all. The feeling I +have about it would be called, and is, mere sentimentality; and I +don't want you to suppose that an ordinary previous engagement of +a straightforward kind would make any practical difference in my +love, or my wish to make you my wife. But you seem to have more +to tell, and that's where the wrong is. Is there more?' + +'Not much more,' she wearily answered. + +Knight preserved a grave silence for a minute. '"Not much more,"' +he said at last. 'I should think not, indeed!' His voice assumed +a low and steady pitch. 'Elfride, you must not mind my saying a +strange-sounding thing, for say it I shall. It is this: that if +there WERE much more to add to an account which already includes +all the particulars that a broken marriage engagement could +possibly include with propriety, it must be some exceptional thing +which might make it impossible for me or any one else to love you +and marry you.' + +Knight's disturbed mood led him much further than he would have +gone in a quieter moment. And, even as it was, had she been +assertive to any degree he would not have been so peremptory; and +had she been a stronger character--more practical and less +imaginative--she would have made more use of her position in his +heart to influence him. But the confiding tenderness which had +won him is ever accompanied by a sort of self-committal to the +stream of events, leading every such woman to trust more to the +kindness of fate for good results than to any argument of her own. + +'Well, well,' he murmured cynically; 'I won't say it is your +fault: it is my ill-luck, I suppose. I had no real right to +question you--everybody would say it was presuming. But when we +have misunderstood, we feel injured by the subject of our +misunderstanding. You never said you had had nobody else here +making love to you, so why should I blame you? Elfride, I beg your +pardon.' + +'No, no! I would rather have your anger than that cool aggrieved +politeness. Do drop that, Harry! Why should you inflict that upon +me? It reduces me to the level of a mere acquaintance.' + +'You do that with me. Why not confidence for confidence?' + +'Yes; but I didn't ask you a single question with regard to your +past: I didn't wish to know about it. All I cared for was that, +wherever you came from, whatever you had done, whoever you had +loved, you were mine at last. Harry, if originally you had known +I had loved, would you never have cared for me?' + +'I won't quite say that. Though I own that the idea of your +inexperienced state had a great charm for me. But I think this: +that if I had known there was any phase of your past love you +would refuse to reveal if I asked to know it, I should never have +loved you.' + +Elfride sobbed bitterly. 'Am I such a--mere characterless toy--as +to have no attrac--tion in me, apart from--freshness? Haven't I +brains? You said--I was clever and ingenious in my thoughts, and-- +isn't that anything? Have I not some beauty? I think I have a +little--and I know I have--yes, I do! You have praised my voice, +and my manner, and my accomplishments. Yet all these together are +so much rubbish because I--accidentally saw a man before you!' + +'Oh, come, Elfride. "Accidentally saw a man" is very cool. You +loved him, remember.' + +--'And loved him a little!' + +'And refuse now to answer the simple question how it ended. Do +you refuse still, Elfride?' + +'You have no right to question me so--you said so. It is unfair. +Trust me as I trust you.' + +'That's not at all.' + +'I shall not love you if you are so cruel. It is cruel to me to +argue like this.' + +'Perhaps it is. Yes, it is. I was carried away by my feeling for +you. Heaven knows that I didn't mean to; but I have loved you so +that I have used you badly.' + +'I don't mind it, Harry!' she instantly answered, creeping up and +nestling against him; 'and I will not think at all that you used +me harshly if you will forgive me, and not be vexed with me any +more? I do wish I had been exactly as you thought I was, but I +could not help it, you know. If I had only known you had been +coming, what a nunnery I would have lived in to have been good +enough for you!' + +'Well, never mind,' said Knight; and he turned to go. He +endeavoured to speak sportively as they went on. 'Diogenes +Laertius says that philosophers used voluntarily to deprive +themselves of sight to be uninterrupted in their meditations. +Men, becoming lovers, ought to do the same thing.' + +'Why?--but never mind--I don't want to know. Don't speak +laconically to me,' she said with deprecation. + +'Why? Because they would never then be distracted by discovering +their idol was second-hand.' + +She looked down and sighed; and they passed out of the crumbling +old place, and slowly crossed to the churchyard entrance. Knight +was not himself, and he could not pretend to be. She had not told +all. + +He supported her lightly over the stile, and was practically as +attentive as a lover could be. But there had passed away a glory, +and the dream was not as it had been of yore. Perhaps Knight was +not shaped by Nature for a marrying man. Perhaps his lifelong +constraint towards women, which he had attributed to accident, was +not chance after all, but the natural result of instinctive acts +so minute as to be undiscernible even by himself. Or whether the +rough dispelling of any bright illusion, however imaginative, +depreciates the real and unexaggerated brightness which appertains +to its basis, one cannot say. Certain it was that Knight's +disappointment at finding himself second or third in the field, at +Elfride's momentary equivoque, and at her reluctance to be candid, +brought him to the verge of cynicism. + + + +Chapter XXXIII + +'O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery.' + + +A habit of Knight's, when not immediately occupied with Elfride-- +to walk by himself for half an hour or so between dinner and +bedtime--had become familiar to his friends at Endelstow, Elfride +herself among them. When he had helped her over the stile, she +said gently, 'If you wish to take your usual turn on the hill, +Harry, I can run down to the house alone.' + +'Thank you, Elfie; then I think I will.' + +Her form diminished to blackness in the moonlight, and Knight, +after remaining upon the churchyard stile a few minutes longer, +turned back again towards the building. His usual course was now +to light a cigar or pipe, and indulge in a quiet meditation. But +to-night his mind was too tense to bethink itself of such a +solace. He merely walked round to the site of the fallen tower, +and sat himself down upon some of the large stones which had +composed it until this day, when the chain of circumstance +originated by Stephen Smith, while in the employ of Mr. Hewby, the +London man of art, had brought about its overthrow. + +Pondering on the possible episodes of Elfride's past life, and on +how he had supposed her to have had no past justifying the name, +he sat and regarded the white tomb of young Jethway, now close in +front of him. The sea, though comparatively placid, could as +usual be heard from this point along the whole distance between +promontories to the right and left, floundering and entangling +itself among the insulated stacks of rock which dotted the water's +edge--the miserable skeletons of tortured old cliffs that would +not even yet succumb to the wear and tear of the tides. + +As a change from thoughts not of a very cheerful kind, Knight +attempted exertion. He stood up, and prepared to ascend to the +summit of the ruinous heap of stones, from which a more extended +outlook was obtainable than from the ground. He stretched out his +arm to seize the projecting arris of a larger block than ordinary, +and so help himself up, when his hand lighted plump upon a +substance differing in the greatest possible degree from what he +had expected to seize--hard stone. It was stringy and entangled, +and trailed upon the stone. The deep shadow from the aisle wall +prevented his seeing anything here distinctly, and he began +guessing as a necessity. 'It is a tressy species of moss or +lichen,' he said to himself. + +But it lay loosely over the stone. + +'It is a tuft of grass,' he said. + +But it lacked the roughness and humidity of the finest grass. + +'It is a mason's whitewash-brush.' + +Such brushes, he remembered, were more bristly; and however much +used in repairing a structure, would not be required in pulling +one down. + +He said, 'It must be a thready silk fringe.' + +He felt further in. It was somewhat warm. Knight instantly felt +somewhat cold. + +To find the coldness of inanimate matter where you expect warmth +is startling enough; but a colder temperature than that of the +body being rather the rule than the exception in common +substances, it hardly conveys such a shock to the system as +finding warmth where utter frigidity is anticipated. + +'God only knows what it is,' he said. + +He felt further, and in the course of a minute put his hand upon a +human head. The head was warm, but motionless. The thready mass +was the hair of the head--long and straggling, showing that the +head was a woman's. + +Knight in his perplexity stood still for a moment, and collected +his thoughts. The vicar's account of the fall of the tower was +that the workmen had been undermining it all the day, and had left +in the evening intending to give the finishing stroke the next +morning. Half an hour after they had gone the undermined angle +came down. The woman who was half buried, as it seemed, must have +been beneath it at the moment of the fall. + +Knight leapt up and began endeavouring to remove the rubbish with +his hands. The heap overlying the body was for the most part fine +and dusty, but in immense quantity. It would be a saving of time +to run for assistance. He crossed to the churchyard wall, and +hastened down the hill. + +A little way down an intersecting road passed over a small ridge, +which now showed up darkly against the moon, and this road here +formed a kind of notch in the sky-line. At the moment that Knight +arrived at the crossing he beheld a man on this eminence, coming +towards him. Knight turned aside and met the stranger. + +'There has been an accident at the church,' said Knight, without +preface. 'The tower has fallen on somebody, who has been lying +there ever since. Will you come and help?' + +'That I will,' said the man. + +'It is a woman,' said Knight, as they hurried back, 'and I think +we two are enough to extricate her. Do you know of a shovel?' + +'The grave-digging shovels are about somewhere. They used to stay +in the tower.' + +'And there must be some belonging to the workmen.' + +They searched about, and in an angle of the porch found three +carefully stowed away. Going round to the west end Knight +signified the spot of the tragedy. + +'We ought to have brought a lantern,' he exclaimed. 'But we may +be able to do without.' He set to work removing the superincumbent +mass. + +The other man, who looked on somewhat helplessly at first, now +followed the example of Knight's activity, and removed the larger +stones which were mingled with the rubbish. But with all their +efforts it was quite ten minutes before the body of the +unfortunate creature could be extricated. They lifted her as +carefully as they could, breathlessly carried her to Felix +Jethway's tomb, which was only a few steps westward, and laid her +thereon. + +'Is she dead indeed?' said the stranger. + +'She appears to be,' said Knight. 'Which is the nearest house? +The vicarage, I suppose.' + +'Yes; but since we shall have to call a surgeon from Castle +Boterel, I think it would be better to carry her in that +direction, instead of away from the town.' + +'And is it not much further to the first house we come to going +that way, than to the vicarage or to The Crags?' + +'Not much,' the stranger replied. + +'Suppose we take her there, then. And I think the best way to do +it would be thus, if you don't mind joining hands with me.' + +'Not in the least; I am glad to assist.' + +Making a kind of cradle, by clasping their hands crosswise under +the inanimate woman, they lifted her, and walked on side by side +down a path indicated by the stranger, who appeared to know the +locality well. + +'I had been sitting in the church for nearly an hour,' Knight +resumed, when they were out of the churchyard. 'Afterwards I +walked round to the site of the fallen tower, and so found her. +It is painful to think I unconsciously wasted so much time in the +very presence of a perishing, flying soul.' + +'The tower fell at dusk, did it not? quite two hours ago, I +think?' + +'Yes. She must have been there alone. What could have been her +object in visiting the churchyard then? + +'It is difficult to say.' The stranger looked inquiringly into the +reclining face of the motionless form they bore. 'Would you turn +her round for a moment, so that the light shines on her face?' he +said. + +They turned her face to the moon, and the man looked closer into +her features. 'Why, I know her!' he exclaimed. + +'Who is she?' + +'Mrs. Jethway. And the cottage we are taking her to is her own. +She is a widow; and I was speaking to her only this afternoon. I +was at Castle Boterel post-office, and she came there to post a +letter. Poor soul! Let us hurry on.' + +'Hold my wrist a little tighter. Was not that tomb we laid her on +the tomb of her only son?' + +'Yes, it was. Yes, I see it now. She was there to visit the +tomb. Since the death of that son she has been a desolate, +desponding woman, always bewailing him. She was a farmer's wife, +very well educated--a governess originally, I believe.' + +Knight's heart was moved to sympathy. His own fortunes seemed in +some strange way to be interwoven with those of this Jethway +family, through the influence of Elfride over himself and the +unfortunate son of that house. He made no reply, and they still +walked on. + +'She begins to feel heavy,' said the stranger, breaking the +silence. + +'Yes, she does,' said Knight; and after another pause added, 'I +think I have met you before, though where I cannot recollect. May +I ask who you are?' + +'Oh yes. I am Lord Luxellian. Who are you?' + +'I am a visitor at The Crags--Mr. Knight.' + +'I have heard of you, Mr. Knight.' + +'And I of you, Lord Luxellian. I am glad to meet you.' + +'I may say the same. I am familiar with your name in print.' + +'And I with yours. Is this the house?' + +'Yes.' + +The door was locked. Knight, reflecting a moment, searched the +pocket of the lifeless woman, and found therein a large key which, +on being applied to the door, opened it easily. The fire was out, +but the moonlight entered the quarried window, and made patterns +upon the floor. The rays enabled them to see that the room into +which they had entered was pretty well furnished, it being the +same room that Elfride had visited alone two or three evenings +earlier. They deposited their still burden on an old-fashioned +couch which stood against the wall, and Knight searched about for +a lamp or candle. He found a candle on a shelf, lighted it, and +placed it on the table. + +Both Knight and Lord Luxellian examined the pale countenance +attentively, and both were nearly convinced that there was no +hope. No marks of violence were visible in the casual examination +they made. + +'I think that as I know where Doctor Granson lives,' said Lord +Luxellian, 'I had better run for him whilst you stay here.' + +Knight agreed to this. Lord Luxellian then went off, and his +hurrying footsteps died away. Knight continued bending over the +body, and a few minutes longer of careful scrutiny perfectly +satisfied him that the woman was far beyond the reach of the +lancet and the drug. Her extremities were already beginning to +get stiff and cold. Knight covered her face, and sat down. + +The minutes went by. The essayist remained musing on all the +occurrences of the night. His eyes were directed upon the table, +and he had seen for some time that writing-materials were spread +upon it. He now noticed these more particularly: there were an +inkstand, pen, blotting-book, and note-paper. Several sheets of +paper were thrust aside from the rest, upon which letters had been +begun and relinquished, as if their form had not been satisfactory +to the writer. A stick of black sealing-wax and seal were there +too, as if the ordinary fastening had not been considered +sufficiently secure. The abandoned sheets of paper lying as they +did open upon the table, made it possible, as he sat, to read the +few words written on each. One ran thus: + + +'SIR,--As a woman who was once blest with a dear son of her own, I +implore you to accept a warning----' + + +Another: + + +'SIR,--If you will deign to receive warning from a stranger before +it is too late to alter your course, listen to----' + + +The third: + + +'SIR,--With this letter I enclose to you another which, unaided by +any explanation from me, tells a startling tale. I wish, however, +to add a few words to make your delusion yet more clear to you---- +' + + +It was plain that, after these renounced beginnings, a fourth +letter had been written and despatched, which had been deemed a +proper one. Upon the table were two drops of sealing-wax, the +stick from which they were taken having been laid down overhanging +the edge of the table; the end of it drooped, showing that the wax +was placed there whilst warm. There was the chair in which the +writer had sat, the impression of the letter's address upon the +blotting-paper, and the poor widow who had caused these results +lying dead hard by. Knight had seen enough to lead him to the +conclusion that Mrs. Jethway, having matter of great importance to +communicate to some friend or acquaintance, had written him a very +careful letter, and gone herself to post it; that she had not +returned to the house from that time of leaving it till Lord +Luxellian and himself had brought her back dead. + +The unutterable melancholy of the whole scene, as he waited on, +silent and alone, did not altogether clash with the mood of +Knight, even though he was the affianced of a fair and winning +girl, and though so lately he had been in her company. Whilst +sitting on the remains of the demolished tower he had defined a +new sensation; that the lengthened course of inaction he had +lately been indulging in on Elfride's account might probably not +be good for him as a man who had work to do. It could quickly be +put an end to by hastening on his marriage with her. + +Knight, in his own opinion, was one who had missed his mark by +excessive aiming. Having now, to a great extent, given up ideal +ambitions, he wished earnestly to direct his powers into a more +practical channel, and thus correct the introspective tendencies +which had never brought himself much happiness, or done his +fellow-creatures any great good. To make a start in this new +direction by marriage, which, since knowing Elfride, had been so +entrancing an idea, was less exquisite to-night. That the +curtailment of his illusion regarding her had something to do with +the reaction, and with the return of his old sentiments on wasting +time, is more than probable. Though Knight's heart had so greatly +mastered him, the mastery was not so complete as to be easily +maintained in the face of a moderate intellectual revival. + +His reverie was broken by the sound of wheels, and a horse's +tramp. The door opened to admit the surgeon, Lord Luxellian, and +a Mr. Coole, coroner for the division (who had been attending at +Castle Boterel that very day, and was having an after-dinner chat +with the doctor when Lord Luxellian arrived); next came two female +nurses and some idlers. + +Mr. Granson, after a cursory examination, pronounced the woman +dead from suffocation, induced by intense pressure on the +respiratory organs; and arrangements were made that the inquiry +should take place on the following morning, before the return of +the coroner to St. Launce's. + +Shortly afterwards the house of the widow was deserted by all its +living occupants, and she abode in death, as she had in her life +during the past two years, entirely alone. + + + +Chapter XXXIV + +'Yea, happy shall he be that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.' + + +Sixteen hours had passed. Knight was entering the ladies' boudoir +at The Crags, upon his return from attending the inquest touching +the death of Mrs. Jethway. Elfride was not in the apartment. + +Mrs. Swancourt made a few inquiries concerning the verdict and +collateral circumstances. Then she said-- + +'The postman came this morning the minute after you left the +house. There was only one letter for you, and I have it here.' + +She took a letter from the lid of her workbox, and handed it to +him. Knight took the missive abstractedly, but struck by its +appearance murmured a few words and left the room. + +The letter was fastened with a black seal, and the handwriting in +which it was addressed had lain under his eyes, long and +prominently, only the evening before. + +Knight was greatly agitated, and looked about for a spot where he +might be secure from interruption. It was the season of heavy +dews, which lay on the herbage in shady places all the day long; +nevertheless, he entered a small patch of neglected grass-plat +enclosed by the shrubbery, and there perused the letter, which he +had opened on his way thither. + +The handwriting, the seal, the paper, the introductory words, all +had told on the instant that the letter had come to him from the +hands of the widow Jethway, now dead and cold. He had instantly +understood that the unfinished notes which caught his eye +yesternight were intended for nobody but himself. He had +remembered some of the words of Elfride in her sleep on the +steamer, that somebody was not to tell him of something, or it +would be her ruin--a circumstance hitherto deemed so trivial and +meaningless that he had well-nigh forgotten it. All these things +infused into him an emotion intense in power and supremely +distressing in quality. The paper in his hand quivered as he +read: + + + 'THE VALLEY, ENDELSTOW. + +'SIR,--A woman who has not much in the world to lose by any +censure this act may bring upon her, wishes to give you some hints +concerning a lady you love. If you will deign to accept a warning +before it is too late, you will notice what your correspondent has +to say. + +'You are deceived. Can such a woman as this be worthy? + +'One who encouraged an honest youth to love her, then slighted +him, so that he died. + +'One who next took a man of no birth as a lover, who was forbidden +the house by her father. + +'One who secretly left her home to be married to that man, met +him, and went with him to London. + +'One who, for some reason or other, returned again unmarried. + +'One who, in her after-correspondence with him, went so far as to +address him as her husband. + +'One who wrote the enclosed letter to ask me, who better than +anybody else knows the story, to keep the scandal a secret. + +'I hope soon to be beyond the reach of either blame or praise. +But before removing me God has put it in my power to avenge the +death of my son. + + 'GERTRUDE JETHWAY.' + + +The letter enclosed was the note in pencil that Elfride had +written in Mrs. Jethway's cottage: + + +'DEAR MRS. JETHWAY,--I have been to visit you. I wanted much to +see you, but I cannot wait any longer. I came to beg you not to +execute the threats you have repeated to me. Do not, I beseech +you, Mrs. Jethway, let any one know I ran away from home! It would +ruin me with him, and break my heart. I will do anything for you, +if you will be kind to me. In the name of our common womanhood, +do not, I implore you, make a scandal of me.--Yours, + 'E. SWANCOURT. + + +Knight turned his head wearily towards the house. The ground rose +rapidly on nearing the shrubbery in which he stood, raising it +almost to a level with the first floor of The Crags. Elfride's +dressing-room lay in the salient angle in this direction, and it +was lighted by two windows in such a position that, from Knight's +standing-place, his sight passed through both windows, and raked +the room. Elfride was there; she was pausing between the two +windows, looking at her figure in the cheval-glass. She regarded +herself long and attentively in front; turned, flung back her +head, and observed the reflection over her shoulder. + +Nobody can predicate as to her object or fancy; she may have done +the deed in the very abstraction of deep sadness. She may have +been moaning from the bottom of her heart, 'How unhappy am I!' But +the impression produced on Knight was not a good one. He dropped +his eyes moodily. The dead woman's letter had a virtue in the +accident of its juncture far beyond any it intrinsically +exhibited. Circumstance lent to evil words a ring of pitiless +justice echoing from the grave. Knight could not endure their +possession. He tore the letter into fragments. + +He heard a brushing among the bushes behind, and turning his head +he saw Elfride following him. The fair girl looked in his face +with a wistful smile of hope, too forcedly hopeful to displace the +firmly established dread beneath it. His severe words of the +previous night still sat heavy upon her. + +'I saw you from my window, Harry,' she said timidly. + +'The dew will make your feet wet,' he observed, as one deaf. + +'I don't mind it.' + +'There is danger in getting wet feet.' + +'Yes...Harry, what is the matter?' + +'Oh, nothing. Shall I resume the serious conversation I had with +you last night? No, perhaps not; perhaps I had better not.' + +'Oh, I cannot tell! How wretched it all is! Ah, I wish you were +your own dear self again, and had kissed me when I came up! Why +didn't you ask me for one? why don't you now?' + +'Too free in manner by half,' he heard murmur the voice within +him. + +'It was that hateful conversation last night,' she went on. 'Oh, +those words! Last night was a black night for me.' + +'Kiss!--I hate that word! Don't talk of kissing, for God's sake! I +should think you might with advantage have shown tact enough to +keep back that word "kiss," considering those you have accepted.' + +She became very pale, and a rigid and desolate charactery took +possession of her face. That face was so delicate and tender in +appearance now, that one could fancy the pressure of a finger upon +it would cause a livid spot. + +Knight walked on, and Elfride with him, silent and unopposing. He +opened a gate, and they entered a path across a stubble-field. + +'Perhaps I intrude upon you?' she said as he closed the gate. +'Shall I go away?' + +'No. Listen to me, Elfride.' Knight's voice was low and unequal. +'I have been honest with you: will you be so with me? If any-- +strange--connection has existed between yourself and a predecessor +of mine, tell it now. It is better that I know it now, even +though the knowledge should part us, than that I should discover +it in time to come. And suspicions have been awakened in me. I +think I will not say how, because I despise the means. A +discovery of any mystery of your past would embitter our lives.' + +Knight waited with a slow manner of calmness. His eyes were sad +and imperative. They went farther along the path. + +'Will you forgive me if I tell you all?' she exclaimed +entreatingly. + +'I can't promise; so much depends upon what you have to tell.' + +Elfride could not endure the silence which followed. + +'Are you not going to love me?' she burst out. 'Harry, Harry, +love me, and speak as usual! Do; I beseech you, Harry!' + +'Are you going to act fairly by me?' said Knight, with rising +anger; 'or are you not? What have I done to you that I should be +put off like this? Be caught like a bird in a springe; everything +intended to be hidden from me! Why is it, Elfride? That's what I +ask you.' + +In their agitation they had left the path, and were wandering +among the wet and obstructive stubble, without knowing or heeding +it. + +'What have I done?' she faltered. + +'What? How can you ask what, when you know so well? You KNOW that +I have designedly been kept in ignorance of something attaching to +you, which, had I known of it, might have altered all my conduct; +and yet you say, what?' + +She drooped visibly, and made no answer. + +'Not that I believe in malicious letter-writers and whisperers; +not I. I don't know whether I do or don't: upon my soul, I can't +tell. I know this: a religion was building itself upon you in my +heart. I looked into your eyes, and thought I saw there truth and +innocence as pure and perfect as ever embodied by God in the flesh +of woman. Perfect truth is too much to expect, but ordinary truth +I WILL HAVE or nothing at all. Just say, then; is the matter you +keep back of the gravest importance, or is it not?' + +'I don't understand all your meaning. If I have hidden anything +from you, it has been because I loved you so, and I feared-- +feared--to lose you.' + +'Since you are not given to confidence, I want to ask you some +plain questions. Have I your permission?' + +'Yes,' she said, and there came over her face a weary resignation. +'Say the harshest words you can; I will bear them!' + +'There is a scandal in the air concerning you, Elfride; and I +cannot even combat it without knowing definitely what it is. It +may not refer to you entirely, or even at all.' Knight trifled in +the very bitterness of his feeling. 'In the time of the French +Revolution, Pariseau, a ballet-master, was beheaded by mistake for +Parisot, a captain of the King's Guard. I wish there was another +"E. Swancourt" in the neighbourhood. Look at this.' + +He handed her the letter she had written and left on the table at +Mrs. Jethway's. She looked over it vacantly. + +'It is not so much as it seems!' she pleaded. 'It seems wickedly +deceptive to look at now, but it had a much more natural origin +than you think. My sole wish was not to endanger our love. O +Harry! that was all my idea. It was not much harm.' + +'Yes, yes; but independently of the poor miserable creature's +remarks, it seems to imply--something wrong.' + +'What remarks?' + +'Those she wrote me--now torn to pieces. Elfride, DID you run +away with a man you loved?--that was the damnable statement. Has +such an accusation life in it--really, truly, Elfride?' + +'Yes,' she whispered. + +Knight's countenance sank. 'To be married to him?' came huskily +from his lips. + +'Yes. Oh, forgive me! I had never seen you, Harry.' + +'To London?' + +'Yes; but I----' + +'Answer my questions; say nothing else, Elfride Did you ever +deliberately try to marry him in secret?' + +'No; not deliberately.' + +'But did you do it?' + +A feeble red passed over her face. + +'Yes,' she said. + +'And after that--did you--write to him as your husband; and did he +address you as his wife?' + +'Listen, listen! It was----' + +'Do answer me; only answer me!' + +'Then, yes, we did.' Her lips shook; but it was with some little +dignity that she continued: 'I would gladly have told you; for I +knew and know I had done wrong. But I dared not; I loved you too +well. Oh, so well! You have been everything in the world to me-- +and you are now. Will you not forgive me?' + +It is a melancholy thought, that men who at first will not allow +the verdict of perfection they pronounce upon their sweethearts or +wives to be disturbed by God's own testimony to the contrary, +will, once suspecting their purity, morally hang them upon +evidence they would be ashamed to admit in judging a dog. + +The reluctance to tell, which arose from Elfride's simplicity in +thinking herself so much more culpable than she really was, had +been doing fatal work in Knight's mind. The man of many ideas, +now that his first dream of impossible things was over, vibrated +too far in the contrary direction; and her every movement of +feature--every tremor--every confused word--was taken as so much +proof of her unworthiness. + +'Elfride, we must bid good-bye to compliment,' said Knight: 'we +must do without politeness now. Look in my face, and as you +believe in God above, tell me truly one thing more. Were you away +alone with him?' + +'Yes.' + +'Did you return home the same day on which you left it?' + +'No.' + +The word fell like a bolt, and the very land and sky seemed to +suffer. Knight turned aside. Meantime Elfride's countenance wore +a look indicating utter despair of being able to explain matters +so that they would seem no more than they really were,--a despair +which not only relinquishes the hope of direct explanation, but +wearily gives up all collateral chances of extenuation. + +The scene was engraved for years on the retina of Knight's eye: +the dead and brown stubble, the weeds among it, the distant belt +of beeches shutting out the view of the house, the leaves of which +were now red and sick to death. + +'You must forget me,' he said. 'We shall not marry, Elfride.' + +How much anguish passed into her soul at those words from him was +told by the look of supreme torture she wore. + +'What meaning have you, Harry? You only say so, do you?' + +She looked doubtingly up at him, and tried to laugh, as if the +unreality of his words must be unquestionable. + +'You are not in earnest, I know--I hope you are not? Surely I +belong to you, and you are going to keep me for yours?' + +'Elfride, I have been speaking too roughly to you; I have said +what I ought only to have thought. I like you; and let me give +you a word of advice. Marry your man as soon as you can. However +weary of each other you may feel, you belong to each other, and I +am not going to step between you. Do you think I would--do you +think I could for a moment? If you cannot marry him now, and +another makes you his wife, do not reveal this secret to him after +marriage, if you do not before. Honesty would be damnation then.' + +Bewildered by his expressions, she exclaimed-- + +'No, no; I will not be a wife unless I am yours; and I must be +yours!' + +'If we had married----' + +'But you don't MEAN--that--that--you will go away and leave me, +and not be anything more to me--oh, you don't!' + +Convulsive sobs took all nerve out of her utterance. She checked +them, and continued to look in his face for the ray of hope that +was not to be found there. + +'I am going indoors,' said Knight. 'You will not follow me, +Elfride; I wish you not to.' + +'Oh no; indeed, I will not.' + +'And then I am going to Castle Boterel. Good-bye.' + +He spoke the farewell as if it were but for the day--lightly, as +he had spoken such temporary farewells many times before--and she +seemed to understand it as such. Knight had not the power to tell +her plainly that he was going for ever; he hardly knew for certain +that he was: whether he should rush back again upon the current of +an irresistible emotion, or whether he could sufficiently conquer +himself, and her in him, to establish that parting as a supreme +farewell, and present himself to the world again as no woman's. + +Ten minutes later he had left the house, leaving directions that +if he did not return in the evening his luggage was to be sent to +his chambers in London, whence he intended to write to Mr. +Swancourt as to the reasons of his sudden departure. He descended +the valley, and could not forbear turning his head. He saw the +stubble-field, and a slight girlish figure in the midst of it--up +against the sky. Elfride, docile as ever, had hardly moved a +step, for he had said, Remain. He looked and saw her again--he +saw her for weeks and months. He withdrew his eyes from the +scene, swept his hand across them, as if to brush away the sight, +breathed a low groan, and went on. + + + +Chapter XXXV + +'And wilt thou leave me thus?--say nay--say nay!' + + +The scene shifts to Knight's chambers in Bede's Inn. It was late +in the evening of the day following his departure from Endelstow. +A drizzling rain descended upon London, forming a humid and dreary +halo over every well-lighted street. The rain had not yet been +prevalent long enough to give to rapid vehicles that clear and +distinct rattle which follows the thorough washing of the stones +by a drenching rain, but was just sufficient to make footway and +roadway slippery, adhesive, and clogging to both feet and wheels. + +Knight was standing by the fire, looking into its expiring embers, +previously to emerging from his door for a dreary journey home to +Richmond. His hat was on, and the gas turned off. The blind of +the window overlooking the alley was not drawn down; and with the +light from beneath, which shone over the ceiling of the room, +came, in place of the usual babble, only the reduced clatter and +quick speech which were the result of necessity rather than +choice. + +Whilst he thus stood, waiting for the expiration of the few +minutes that were wanting to the time for his catching the train, +a light tapping upon the door mingled with the other sounds that +reached his ears. It was so faint at first that the outer noises +were almost sufficient to drown it. Finding it repeated Knight +crossed the lobby, crowded with books and rubbish, and opened the +door. + +A woman, closely muffled up, but visibly of fragile build, was +standing on the landing under the gaslight. She sprang forward, +flung her arms round Knight's neck, and uttered a low cry-- + +'O Harry, Harry, you are killing me! I could not help coming. +Don't send me away--don't! Forgive your Elfride for coming--I love +you so!' + +Knight's agitation and astonishment mastered him for a few +moments. + +'Elfride!' he cried, 'what does this mean? What have you done?' + +'Do not hurt me and punish me--Oh, do not! I couldn't help coming; +it was killing me. Last night, when you did not come back, I +could not bear it--I could not! Only let me be with you, and see +your face, Harry; I don't ask for more.' + +Her eyelids were hot, heavy, and thick with excessive weeping, and +the delicate rose-red of her cheeks was disfigured and inflamed by +the constant chafing of the handkerchief in wiping her many tears. + +'Who is with you? Have you come alone?' he hurriedly inquired. + +'Yes. When you did not come last night, I sat up hoping you would +come--and the night was all agony--and I waited on and on, and you +did not come! Then when it was morning, and your letter said you +were gone, I could not endure it; and I ran away from them to St. +Launce's, and came by the train. And I have been all day +travelling to you, and you won't make me go away again, will you, +Harry, because I shall always love you till I die?' + +'Yet it is wrong for you to stay. O Elfride! what have you +committed yourself to? It is ruin to your good name to run to me +like this! Has not your first experience been sufficient to keep +you from these things?' + +'My name! Harry, I shall soon die, and what good will my name be +to me then? Oh, could I but be the man and you the woman, I would +not leave you for such a little fault as mine! Do not think it was +so vile a thing in me to run away with him. Ah, how I wish you +could have run away with twenty women before you knew me, that I +might show you I would think it no fault, but be glad to get you +after them all, so that I had you! If you only knew me through and +through, how true I am, Harry. Cannot I be yours? Say you love me +just the same, and don't let me be separated from you again, will +you? I cannot bear it--all the long hours and days and nights +going on, and you not there, but away because you hate me!' + +'Not hate you, Elfride,' he said gently, and supported her with +his arm. 'But you cannot stay here now--just at present, I mean.' + +'I suppose I must not--I wish I might. I am afraid that if--you +lose sight of me--something dark will happen, and we shall not +meet again. Harry, if I am not good enough to be your wife, I +wish I could be your servant and live with you, and not be sent +away never to see you again. I don't mind what it is except +that!' + +'No, I cannot send you away: I cannot. God knows what dark future +may arise out of this evening's work; but I cannot send you away! +You must sit down, and I will endeavour to collect my thoughts and +see what had better be done. + +At that moment a loud knocking at the house door was heard by +both, accompanied by a hurried ringing of the bell that echoed +from attic to basement. The door was quickly opened, and after a +few hasty words of converse in the hall, heavy footsteps ascended +the stairs. + +The face of Mr. Swancourt, flushed, grieved, and stern, appeared +round the landing of the staircase. He came higher up, and stood +beside them. Glancing over and past Knight with silent +indignation, he turned to the trembling girl. + +'O Elfride! and have I found you at last? Are these your tricks, +madam? When will you get rid of your idiocies, and conduct +yourself like a decent woman? Is my family name and house to be +disgraced by acts that would be a scandal to a washerwoman's +daughter? Come along, madam; come!' + +'She is so weary!' said Knight, in a voice of intensest anguish. +'Mr. Swancourt, don't be harsh with her--let me beg of you to be +tender with her, and love her!' + +'To you, sir,' said Mr. Swancourt, turning to him as if by the +sheer pressure of circumstances, 'I have little to say. I can +only remark, that the sooner I can retire from your presence the +better I shall be pleased. Why you could not conduct your +courtship of my daughter like an honest man, I do not know. Why +she--a foolish inexperienced girl--should have been tempted to +this piece of folly, I do not know. Even if she had not known +better than to leave her home, you might have, I should think.' + +'It is not his fault: he did not tempt me, papa! I came.' + +'If you wished the marriage broken off, why didn't you say so +plainly? If you never intended to marry, why could you not leave +her alone? Upon my soul, it grates me to the heart to be obliged +to think so ill of a man I thought my friend!' + +Knight, soul-sick and weary of his life, did not arouse himself to +utter a word in reply. How should he defend himself when his +defence was the accusation of Elfride? On that account he felt a +miserable satisfaction in letting her father go on thinking and +speaking wrongfully. It was a faint ray of pleasure straying into +the great gloominess of his brain to think that the vicar might +never know but that he, as her lover, tempted her away, which +seemed to be the form Mr. Swancourt's misapprehension had taken. + +'Now, are you coming?' said Mr. Swancourt to her again. He took +her unresisting hand, drew it within his arm, and led her down the +stairs. Knight's eyes followed her, the last moment begetting in +him a frantic hope that she would turn her head. She passed on, +and never looked back. + +He heard the door open--close again. The wheels of a cab grazed +the kerbstone, a murmured direction followed. The door was +slammed together, the wheels moved, and they rolled away. + + +From that hour of her reappearance a dreadful conflict raged +within the breast of Henry Knight. His instinct, emotion, +affectiveness--or whatever it may be called--urged him to stand +forward, seize upon Elfride, and be her cherisher and protector +through life. Then came the devastating thought that Elfride's +childlike, unreasoning, and indiscreet act in flying to him only +proved that the proprieties must be a dead letter with her; that +the unreserve, which was really artlessness without ballast, meant +indifference to decorum; and what so likely as that such a woman +had been deceived in the past? He said to himself, in a mood of +the bitterest cynicism: 'The suspicious discreet woman who +imagines dark and evil things of all her fellow-creatures is far +too shrewd to be deluded by man: trusting beings like Elfride are +the women who fall.' + +Hours and days went by, and Knight remained inactive. Lengthening +time, which made fainter the heart-awakening power of her +presence, strengthened the mental ability to reason her down. +Elfride loved him, he knew, and he could not leave off loving her +but marry her he would not. If she could but be again his own +Elfride--the woman she had seemed to be--but that woman was dead +and buried, and he knew her no more! And how could he marry this +Elfride, one who, if he had originally seen her as she was, would +have been barely an interesting pitiable acquaintance in his eyes-- +no more? + +It cankered his heart to think he was confronted by the closest +instance of a worse state of things than any he had assumed in the +pleasant social philosophy and satire of his essays. + +The moral rightness of this man's life was worthy of all praise; +but in spite of some intellectual acumen, Knight had in him a +modicum of that wrongheadedness which is mostly found in +scrupulously honest people. With him, truth seemed too clean and +pure an abstraction to be so hopelessly churned in with error as +practical persons find it. Having now seen himself mistaken in +supposing Elfride to be peerless, nothing on earth could make him +believe she was not so very bad after all. + +He lingered in town a fortnight, doing little else than vibrate +between passion and opinions. One idea remained intact--that it +was better Elfride and himself should not meet. + +When he surveyed the volumes on his shelves--few of which had been +opened since Elfride first took possession of his heart--their +untouched and orderly arrangement reproached him as an apostate +from the old faith of his youth and early manhood. He had +deserted those never-failing friends, so they seemed to say, for +an unstable delight in a ductile woman, which had ended all in +bitterness. The spirit of self-denial, verging on asceticism, +which had ever animated Knight in old times, announced itself as +having departed with the birth of love, with it having gone the +self-respect which had compensated for the lack of self- +gratification. Poor little Elfride, instead of holding, as +formerly, a place in his religion, began to assume the hue of a +temptation. Perhaps it was human and correctly natural that +Knight never once thought whether he did not owe her a little +sacrifice for her unchary devotion in saving his life. + +With a consciousness of having thus, like Antony, kissed away +kingdoms and provinces, he next considered how he had revealed his +higher secrets and intentions to her, an unreserve he would never +have allowed himself with any man living. How was it that he had +not been able to refrain from telling her of adumbrations +heretofore locked in the closest strongholds of his mind? + +Knight's was a robust intellect, which could escape outside the +atmosphere of heart, and perceive that his own love, as well as +other people's, could be reduced by change of scene and +circumstances. At the same time the perception was a superimposed +sorrow: + + + 'O last regret, regret can die!' + + +But being convinced that the death of this regret was the best +thing for him, he did not long shrink from attempting it. He +closed his chambers, suspended his connection with editors, and +left London for the Continent. Here we will leave him to wander +without purpose, beyond the nominal one of encouraging +obliviousness of Elfride. + + + +Chapter XXXVI + +'The pennie's the jewel that beautifies a'.' + + +'I can't think what's coming to these St. Launce's people at all +at all.' + +'With their "How-d'ye-do's," do you mean?' + +'Ay, with their "How-d'ye-do's," and shaking of hands, asking me +in, and tender inquiries for you, John.' + +These words formed part of a conversation between John Smith and +his wife on a Saturday evening in the spring which followed +Knight's departure from England. Stephen had long since returned +to India; and the persevering couple themselves had migrated from +Lord Luxellian's park at Endelstow to a comfortable roadside +dwelling about a mile out of St. Launce's, where John had opened a +small stone and slate yard in his own name. + +'When we came here six months ago,' continued Mrs. Smith, 'though +I had paid ready money so many years in the town, my friskier +shopkeepers would only speak over the counter. Meet 'em in the +street half-an-hour after, and they'd treat me with staring +ignorance of my face.' + +'Look through ye as through a glass winder?' + +'Yes, the brazen ones would. The quiet and cool ones would glance +over the top of my head, past my side, over my shoulder, but never +meet my eye. The gentle-modest would turn their faces south if I +were coming east, flit down a passage if I were about to halve the +pavement with them. There was the spruce young bookseller would +play the same tricks; the butcher's daughters; the upholsterer's +young men. Hand in glove when doing business out of sight with +you; but caring nothing for a' old woman when playing the genteel +away from all signs of their trade.' + +'True enough, Maria.' + +'Well, to-day 'tis all different. I'd no sooner got to market +than Mrs. Joakes rushed up to me in the eyes of the town and said, +"My dear Mrs. Smith, now you must be tired with your walk! Come in +and have some lunch! I insist upon it; knowing you so many years +as I have! Don't you remember when we used to go looking for owls' +feathers together in the Castle ruins?" There's no knowing what +you may need, so I answered the woman civilly. I hadn't got to +the corner before that thriving young lawyer, Sweet, who's quite +the dandy, ran after me out of breath. "Mrs. Smith," he says, +"excuse my rudeness, but there's a bramble on the tail of your +dress, which you've dragged in from the country; allow me to pull +it off for you." If you'll believe me, this was in the very front +of the Town Hall. What's the meaning of such sudden love for a' +old woman?' + +'Can't say; unless 'tis repentance.' + +'Repentance! was there ever such a fool as you. John? Did anybody +ever repent with money in's pocket and fifty years to live?' + +'Now, I've been thinking too,' said John, passing over the query +as hardly pertinent, 'that I've had more loving-kindness from +folks to-day than I ever have before since we moved here. Why, +old Alderman Tope walked out to the middle of the street where I +was, to shake hands with me--so 'a did. Having on my working +clothes, I thought 'twas odd. Ay, and there was young +Werrington.' + +'Who's he?' + +'Why, the man in Hill Street, who plays and sells flutes, +trumpets, and fiddles, and grand pehanners. He was talking to +Egloskerry, that very small bachelor-man with money in the funds. +I was going by, I'm sure, without thinking or expecting a nod from +men of that glib kidney when in my working clothes----' + +'You always will go poking into town in your working clothes. Beg +you to change how I will, 'tis no use.' + +'Well, however, I was in my working clothes. Werrington saw me. +"Ah, Mr. Smith! a fine morning; excellent weather for building," +says he, out as loud and friendly as if I'd met him in some deep +hollow, where he could get nobody else to speak to at all. 'Twas +odd: for Werrington is one of the very ringleaders of the fast +class.' + +At that moment a tap came to the door. The door was immediately +opened by Mrs. Smith in person. + +'You'll excuse us, I'm sure, Mrs. Smith, but this beautiful spring +weather was too much for us. Yes, and we could stay in no longer; +and I took Mrs. Trewen upon my arm directly we'd had a cup of tea, +and out we came. And seeing your beautiful crocuses in such a +bloom, we've taken the liberty to enter. We'll step round the +garden, if you don't mind.' + +'Not at all,' said Mrs. Smith; and they walked round the garden. +She lifted her hands in amazement directly their backs were +turned. 'Goodness send us grace!' + +Who be they?' said her husband. + +'Actually Mr. Trewen, the bank-manager, and his wife.' + +John Smith, staggered in mind, went out of doors and looked over +the garden gate, to collect his ideas. He had not been there two +minutes when wheels were heard, and a carriage and pair rolled +along the road. A distinguished-looking lady, with the demeanour +of a duchess, reclined within. When opposite Smith's gate she +turned her head, and instantly commanded the coachman to stop. + +'Ah, Mr. Smith, I am glad to see you looking so well. I could not +help stopping a moment to congratulate you and Mrs. Smith upon the +happiness you must enjoy. Joseph, you may drive on.' + +And the carriage rolled away towards St. Launce's. + +Out rushed Mrs. Smith from behind a laurel-bush, where she had +stood pondering. + +'Just going to touch my hat to her,' said John; 'just for all the +world as I would have to poor Lady Luxellian years ago.' + +'Lord! who is she?' + +'The public-house woman--what's her name? Mrs.--Mrs.--at the +Falcon.' + +'Public-house woman. The clumsiness of the Smith family! You +MIGHT say the landlady of the Falcon Hotel, since we are in for +politeness. The people are ridiculous enough, but give them their +due.' + +The possibility is that Mrs. Smith was getting mollified, in spite +of herself, by these remarkably friendly phenomena among the +people of St. Launce's. And in justice to them it was quite +desirable that she should do so. The interest which the +unpractised ones of this town expressed so grotesquely was genuine +of its kind, and equal in intrinsic worth to the more polished +smiles of larger communities. + +By this time Mr. and Mrs. Trewen were returning from the garden. + +'I'll ask 'em flat,' whispered John to his wife. 'I'll say, "We +be in a fog--you'll excuse my asking a question, Mr. and Mrs. +Trewen. How is it you all be so friendly to-day?" Hey? 'Twould +sound right and sensible, wouldn't it?' + +'Not a word! Good mercy, when will the man have manners!' + +'It must be a proud moment for you, I am sure, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, +to have a son so celebrated,' said the bank-manager advancing. + +'Ah, 'tis Stephen--I knew it!' said Mrs. Smith triumphantly to +herself. + +'We don't know particulars,' said John. + +'Not know!' + +'No.' + +'Why, 'tis all over town. Our worthy Mayor alluded to it in a +speech at the dinner last night of the Every-Man-his-own-Maker +Club.' + +'And what about Stephen?' urged Mrs. Smith. + +'Why, your son has been feted by deputy-governors and Parsee +princes and nobody-knows-who in India; is hand in glove with +nabobs, and is to design a large palace, and cathedral, and +hospitals, colleges, halls, and fortifications, by the general +consent of the ruling powers, Christian and Pagan alike.' + +''Twas sure to come to the boy,' said Mr. Smith unassumingly. + +''Tis in yesterday's St. Launce's Chronicle; and our worthy Mayor +in the chair introduced the subject into his speech last night in +a masterly manner.' + +''Twas very good of the worthy Mayor in the chair I'm sure,' said +Stephen's mother. 'I hope the boy will have the sense to keep +what he's got; but as for men, they are a simple sex. Some woman +will hook him.' + +'Well, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the evening closes in, and we must be +going; and remember this, that every Saturday when you come in to +market, you are to make our house as your own. There will be +always a tea-cup and saucer for you, as you know there has been +for months, though you may have forgotten it. I'm a plain- +speaking woman, and what I say I mean.' + +When the visitors were gone, and the sun had set, and the moon's +rays were just beginning to assert themselves upon the walls of +the dwelling, John Smith and his wife sat dawn to the newspaper +they had hastily procured from the town. And when the reading was +done, they considered how best to meet the new social requirements +settling upon them, which Mrs. Smith considered could be done by +new furniture and house enlargement alone. + +'And, John, mind one thing,' she said in conclusion. 'In writing +to Stephen, never by any means mention the name of Elfride +Swancourt again. We've left the place, and know no more about her +except by hearsay. He seems to be getting free of her, and glad +am I for it. It was a cloudy hour for him when he first set eyes +upon the girl. That family's been no good to him, first or last; +so let them keep their blood to themselves if they want to. He +thinks of her, I know, but not so hopelessly. So don't try to +know anything about her, and we can't answer his questions. She +may die out of his mind then.' + +'That shall be it,' said John. + + + +Chapter XXXVII + +'After many days.' + + +Knight roamed south, under colour of studying Continental +antiquities. + +He paced the lofty aisles of Amiens, loitered by Ardennes Abbey, +climbed into the strange towers of Laon, analyzed Noyon and +Rheims. Then he went to Chartres, and examined its scaly spires +and quaint carving then he idled about Coutances. He rowed +beneath the base of Mont St. Michel, and caught the varied skyline +of the crumbling edifices encrusting it. St. Ouen's, Rouen, knew +him for days; so did Vezelay, Sens, and many a hallowed monument +besides. Abandoning the inspection of early French art with the +same purposeless haste as he had shown in undertaking it, he went +further, and lingered about Ferrara, Padua, and Pisa. Satiated +with mediaevalism, he tried the Roman Forum. Next he observed +moonlight and starlight effects by the bay of Naples. He turned +to Austria, became enervated and depressed on Hungarian and +Bohemian plains, and was refreshed again by breezes on the +declivities of the Carpathians. + +Then he found himself in Greece. He visited the plain of +Marathon, and strove to imagine the Persian defeat; to Mars Hill, +to picture St. Paul addressing the ancient Athenians; to +Thermopylae and Salamis, to run through the facts and traditions +of the Second Invasion--the result of his endeavours being more or +less chaotic. Knight grew as weary of these places as of all +others. Then he felt the shock of an earthquake in the Ionian +Islands, and went to Venice. Here he shot in gondolas up and down +the winding thoroughfare of the Grand Canal, and loitered on calle +and piazza at night, when the lagunes were undisturbed by a +ripple, and no sound was to be heard but the stroke of the +midnight clock. Afterwards he remained for weeks in the museums, +galleries, and libraries of Vienna, Berlin, and Paris; and thence +came home. + +Time thus rolls us on to a February afternoon, divided by fifteen +months from the parting of Elfride and her lover in the brown +stubble field towards the sea. + +Two men obviously not Londoners, and with a touch of foreignness +in their look, met by accident on one of the gravel walks leading +across Hyde Park. The younger, more given to looking about him +than his fellow, saw and noticed the approach of his senior some +time before the latter had raised his eyes from the ground, upon +which they were bent in an abstracted gaze that seemed habitual +with him. + +'Mr. Knight--indeed it is!' exclaimed the younger man. + +'Ah, Stephen Smith!' said Knight. + +Simultaneous operations might now have been observed progressing +in both, the result being that an expression less frank and +impulsive than the first took possession of their features. It +was manifest that the next words uttered were a superficial +covering to constraint on both sides. + +'Have you been in England long?' said Knight. + +'Only two days,' said Smith. India ever since?' + +'Nearly ever since.' + +'They were making a fuss about you at St. Launce's last year. I +fancy I saw something of the sort in the papers.' + +'Yes; I believe something was said about me.' + +'I must congratulate you on your achievements.' + +'Thanks, but they are nothing very extraordinary. A natural +professional progress where there was no opposition.' + +There followed that want of words which will always assert itself +between nominal friends who find they have ceased to be real ones, +and have not yet sunk to the level of mere acquaintance. Each +looked up and down the Park. Knight may possibly have borne in +mind during the intervening months Stephen's manner towards him +the last time they had met, and may have encouraged his former +interest in Stephen's welfare to die out of him as misplaced. +Stephen certainly was full of the feelings begotten by the belief +that Knight had taken away the woman he loved so well. + +Stephen Smith then asked a question, adopting a certain +recklessness of manner and tone to hide, if possible, the fact +that the subject was a much greater one to him than his friend had +ever supposed. + +'Are you married?' + +'I am not.' + +Knight spoke in an indescribable tone of bitterness that was +almost moroseness. + +'And I never shall be,' he added decisively. 'Are you?' + +'No,' said Stephen, sadly and quietly, like a man in a sick-room. +Totally ignorant whether or not Knight knew of his own previous +claims upon Elfride, he yet resolved to hazard a few more words +upon the topic which had an aching fascination for him even now. + +'Then your engagement to Miss Swancourt came to nothing,' he said. +'You remember I met you with her once?' + +Stephen's voice gave way a little here, in defiance of his firmest +will to the contrary. Indian affairs had not yet lowered those +emotions down to the point of control. + +'It was broken off,' came quickly from Knight. 'Engagements to +marry often end like that--for better or for worse.' + +'Yes; so they do. And what have you been doing lately?' + +'Doing? Nothing.' + +'Where have you been?' + +'I can hardly tell you. In the main, going about Europe; and it +may perhaps interest you to know that I have been attempting the +serious study of Continental art of the Middle Ages. My notes on +each example I visited are at your service. They are of no use to +me.' + +'I shall be glad with them....Oh, travelling far and near!' + +'Not far,' said Knight, with moody carelessness. 'You know, I +daresay, that sheep occasionally become giddy--hydatids in the +head, 'tis called, in which their brains become eaten up, and the +animal exhibits the strange peculiarity of walking round and round +in a circle continually. I have travelled just in the same way-- +round and round like a giddy ram.' + +The reckless, bitter, and rambling style in which Knight talked, +as if rather to vent his images than to convey any ideas to +Stephen, struck the young man painfully. His former friend's days +had become cankered in some way: Knight was a changed man. He +himself had changed much, but not as Knight had changed. + +'Yesterday I came home,' continued Knight, 'without having, to the +best of my belief, imbibed half-a-dozen ideas worth retaining.' + +'You out-Hamlet Hamlet in morbidness of mood,' said Stephen, with +regretful frankness. + +Knight made no reply. + +'Do you know,' Stephen continued, 'I could almost have sworn that +you would be married before this time, from what I saw?' + +Knight's face grew harder. 'Could you?' he said. + +Stephen was powerless to forsake the depressing, luring subject. + +'Yes; and I simply wonder at it.' + +'Whom did you expect me to marry?' + +'Her I saw you with.' + +'Thank you for that wonder.' + +'Did she jilt you?' + +'Smith, now one word to you,' Knight returned steadily. 'Don't +you ever question me on that subject. I have a reason for making +this request, mind. And if you do question me, you will not get +an answer.' + +'Oh, I don't for a moment wish to ask what is unpleasant to you-- +not I. I had a momentary feeling that I should like to explain +something on my side, and hear a similar explanation on yours. +But let it go, let it go, by all means.' + +'What would you explain?' + +'I lost the woman I was going to marry: you have not married as +you intended. We might have compared notes.' + +'I have never asked you a word about your case.' + +'I know that.' + +'And the inference is obvious.' + +'Quite so.' + +'The truth is, Stephen, I have doggedly resolved never to allude +to the matter--for which I have a very good reason.' + +'Doubtless. As good a reason as you had for not marrying her.' + +'You talk insidiously. I had a good one--a miserably good one!' + +Smith's anxiety urged him to venture one more question. + +'Did she not love you enough?' He drew his breath in a slow and +attenuated stream, as he waited in timorous hope for the answer. + +'Stephen, you rather strain ordinary courtesy in pressing +questions of that kind after what I have said. I cannot +understand you at all. I must go on now.' + +'Why, good God!' exclaimed Stephen passionately, 'you talk as if +you hadn't at all taken her away from anybody who had better +claims to her than you!' + +'What do you mean by that?' said Knight, with a puzzled air. +'What have you heard?' + +'Nothing. I too must go on. Good-day.' + +'If you will go,' said Knight, reluctantly now, 'you must, I +suppose. I am sure I cannot understand why you behave so.' + +'Nor I why you do. I have always been grateful to you, and as far +as I am concerned we need never have become so estranged as we +have.' + +'And have I ever been anything but well-disposed towards you, +Stephen? Surely you know that I have not! The system of reserve +began with you: you know that.' + +'No, no! You altogether mistake our position. You were always +from the first reserved to me, though I was confidential to you. +That was, I suppose, the natural issue of our differing positions +in life. And when I, the pupil, became reserved like you, the +master, you did not like it. However, I was going to ask you to +come round and see me.' + +'Where are you staying?' + +'At the Grosvenor Hotel, Pimlico.' + +'So am I.' + +'That's convenient, not to say odd. Well, I am detained in London +for a day or two; then I am going down to see my father and +mother, who live at St. Launce's now. Will you see me this +evening?' + +'I may; but I will not promise. I was wishing to be alone for an +hour or two; but I shall know where to find you, at any rate. +Good-bye.' + + + +Chapter XXXVIII + +'Jealousy is cruel as the grave.' + + +Stephen pondered not a little on this meeting with his old friend +and once-beloved exemplar. He was grieved, for amid all the +distractions of his latter years a still small voice of fidelity +to Knight had lingered on in him. Perhaps this staunchness was +because Knight ever treated him as a mere disciple--even to +snubbing him sometimes; and had at last, though unwittingly, +inflicted upon him the greatest snub of all, that of taking away +his sweetheart. The emotional side of his constitution was built +rather after a feminine than a male model; and that tremendous +wound from Knight's hand may have tended to keep alive a warmth +which solicitousness would have extinguished altogether. + +Knight, on his part, was vexed, after they had parted, that he had +not taken Stephen in hand a little after the old manner. Those +words which Smith had let fall concerning somebody having a prior +claim to Elfride, would, if uttered when the man was younger, have +provoked such a query as, 'Come, tell me all about it, my lad,' +from Knight, and Stephen would straightway have delivered himself +of all he knew on the subject. + +Stephen the ingenuous boy, though now obliterated externally by +Stephen the contriving man, returned to Knight's memory vividly +that afternoon. He was at present but a sojourner in London; and +after attending to the two or three matters of business which +remained to be done that day, he walked abstractedly into the +gloomy corridors of the British Museum for the half-hour previous +to their closing. That meeting with Smith had reunited the +present with the past, closing up the chasm of his absence from +England as if it had never existed, until the final circumstances +of his previous time of residence in London formed but a yesterday +to the circumstances now. The conflict that then had raged in him +concerning Elfride Swancourt revived, strengthened by its sleep. +Indeed, in those many months of absence, though quelling the +intention to make her his wife, he had never forgotten that she +was the type of woman adapted to his nature; and instead of trying +to obliterate thoughts of her altogether, he had grown to regard +them as an infirmity it was necessary to tolerate. + +Knight returned to his hotel much earlier in the evening than he +would have done in the ordinary course of things. He did not care +to think whether this arose from a friendly wish to close the gap +that had slowly been widening between himself and his earliest +acquaintance, or from a hankering desire to hear the meaning of +the dark oracles Stephen had hastily pronounced, betokening that +he knew something more of Elfride than Knight had supposed. + +He made a hasty dinner, inquired for Smith, and soon was ushered +into the young man's presence, whom he found sitting in front of a +comfortable fire, beside a table spread with a few scientific +periodicals and art reviews. + +'I have come to you, after all,' said Knight. 'My manner was odd +this morning, and it seemed desirable to call; but that you had +too much sense to notice, Stephen, I know. Put it down to my +wanderings in France and Italy.' + +'Don't say another word, but sit down. I am only too glad to see +you again.' + +Stephen would hardly have cared to tell Knight just then that the +minute before Knight was announced he had been reading over some +old letters of Elfride's. They were not many; and until to-night +had been sealed up, and stowed away in a corner of his leather +trunk, with a few other mementoes and relics which had accompanied +him in his travels. The familiar sights and sounds of London, the +meeting with his friend, had with him also revived that sense of +abiding continuity with regard to Elfride and love which his +absence at the other side of the world had to some extent +suspended, though never ruptured. He at first intended only to +look over these letters on the outside; then he read one; then +another; until the whole was thus re-used as a stimulus to sad +memories. He folded them away again, placed them in his pocket, +and instead of going on with an examination into the state of the +artistic world, had remained musing on the strange circumstance +that he had returned to find Knight not the husband of Elfride +after all. + +The possibility of any given gratification begets a cumulative +sense of its necessity. Stephen gave the rein to his imagination, +and felt more intensely than he had felt for many months that, +without Elfride, his life would never be any great pleasure to +himself, or honour to his Maker. + +They sat by the fire, chatting on external and random subjects, +neither caring to be the first to approach the matter each most +longed to discuss. On the table with the periodicals lay two or +three pocket-books, one of them being open. Knight seeing from +the exposed page that the contents were sketches only, began +turning the leaves over carelessly with his finger. When, some +time later, Stephen was out of the room, Knight proceeded to pass +the interval by looking at the sketches more carefully. + +The first crude ideas, pertaining to dwellings of all kinds, were +roughly outlined on the different pages. Antiquities had been +copied; fragments of Indian columns, colossal statues, and +outlandish ornament from the temples of Elephanta and Kenneri, +were carelessly intruded upon by outlines of modern doors, +windows, roofs, cooking-stoves, and household furniture; +everything, in short, which comes within the range of a practising +architect's experience, who travels with his eyes open. Among +these occasionally appeared rough delineations of mediaeval +subjects for carving or illumination--heads of Virgins, Saints, +and Prophets. + +Stephen was not professedly a free-hand draughtsman, but he drew +the human figure with correctness and skill. In its numerous +repetitions on the sides and edges of the leaves, Knight began to +notice a peculiarity. All the feminine saints had one type of +feature. There were large nimbi and small nimbi about their +drooping heads, but the face was always the same. That profile-- +how well Knight knew that profile! + +Had there been but one specimen of the familiar countenance, he +might have passed over the resemblance as accidental; but a +repetition meant more. Knight thought anew of Smith's hasty words +earlier in the day, and looked at the sketches again and again. + +On the young man's entry, Knight said with palpable agitation-- + +'Stephen, who are those intended for?' + +Stephen looked over the book with utter unconcern, 'Saints and +angels, done in my leisure moments. They were intended as designs +for the stained glass of an English church.' + +'But whom do you idealize by that type of woman you always adopt +for the Virgin?' + +'Nobody.' + +And then a thought raced along Stephen's mind and he looked up at +his friend. + +The truth is, Stephen's introduction of Elfride's lineaments had +been so unconscious that he had not at first understood his +companion's drift. The hand, like the tongue, easily acquires the +trick of repetition by rote, without calling in the mind to assist +at all; and this had been the case here. Young men who cannot +write verses about their Loves generally take to portraying them, +and in the early days of his attachment Smith had never been weary +of outlining Elfride. The lay-figure of Stephen's sketches now +initiated an adjustment of many things. Knight had recognized +her. The opportunity of comparing notes had come unsought. + +'Elfride Swancourt, to whom I was engaged,' he said quietly. + +'Stephen!' + +'I know what you mean by speaking like that.' + +'Was it Elfride? YOU the man, Stephen?' + +'Yes; and you are thinking why did I conceal the fact from you +that time at Endelstow, are you not?' + +'Yes, and more--more.' + +'I did it for the best; blame me if you will; I did it for the +best. And now say how could I be with you afterwards as I had +been before?' + +'I don't know at all; I can't say.' + +Knight remained fixed in thought, and once he murmured-- + +'I had a suspicion this afternoon that there might be some such +meaning in your words about my taking her away. But I dismissed +it. How came you to know her?' he presently asked, in almost a +peremptory tone. + +'I went down about the church; years ago now.' + +'When you were with Hewby, of course, of course. Well, I can't +understand it.' His tones rose. 'I don't know what to say, your +hoodwinking me like this for so long!' + +'I don't see that I have hoodwinked you at all.' + +'Yes, yes, but'---- + +Knight arose from his seat, and began pacing up and down the room. +His face was markedly pale, and his voice perturbed, as he said-- + +'You did not act as I should have acted towards you under those +circumstances. I feel it deeply; and I tell you plainly, I shall +never forget it!' + +'What?' + +'Your behaviour at that meeting in the family vault, when I told +you we were going to be married. Deception, dishonesty, +everywhere; all the world's of a piece!' + +Stephen did not much like this misconstruction of his motives, +even though it was but the hasty conclusion of a friend disturbed +by emotion. + +'I could do no otherwise than I did, with due regard to her,' he +said stiffly. + +'Indeed!' said Knight, in the bitterest tone of reproach. 'Nor +could you with due regard to her have married her, I suppose! I +have hoped--longed--that HE, who turns out to be YOU, would +ultimately have done that.' + +'I am much obliged to you for that hope. But you talk very +mysteriously. I think I had about the best reason anybody could +have had for not doing that.' + +'Oh, what reason was it?' + +'That I could not.' + +'You ought to have made an opportunity; you ought to do so now, in +bare justice to her, Stephen!' cried Knight, carried beyond +himself. 'That you know very well, and it hurts and wounds me +more than you dream to find you never have tried to make any +reparation to a woman of that kind--so trusting, so apt to be run +away with by her feelings--poor little fool, so much the worse for +her!' + +'Why, you talk like a madman! You took her away from me, did you +not?' + +'Picking up what another throws down can scarcely be called +"taking away." However, we shall not agree too well upon that +subject, so we had better part.' + +'But I am quite certain you misapprehend something most +grievously,' said Stephen, shaken to the bottom of his heart. +'What have I done; tell me? I have lost Elfride, but is that such +a sin?' + +'Was it her doing, or yours?' + +'Was what?' + +'That you parted.' + +'I will tell you honestly. It was hers entirely, entirely.' + +'What was her reason?' + +'I can hardly say. But I'll tell the story without reserve.' + +Stephen until to-day had unhesitatingly held that she grew tired +of him and turned to Knight; but he did not like to advance the +statement now, or even to think the thought. To fancy otherwise +accorded better with the hope to which Knight's estrangement had +given birth: that love for his friend was not the direct cause, +but a result of her suspension of love for himself. + +'Such a matter must not be allowed to breed discord between us,' +Knight returned, relapsing into a manner which concealed all his +true feeling, as if confidence now was intolerable. 'I do see +that your reticence towards me in the vault may have been dictated +by prudential considerations.' He concluded artificially, 'It was +a strange thing altogether; but not of much importance, I suppose, +at this distance of time; and it does not concern me now, though I +don't mind hearing your story.' + +These words from Knight, uttered with such an air of renunciation +and apparent indifference, prompted Smith to speak on--perhaps +with a little complacency--of his old secret engagement to +Elfride. He told the details of its origin, and the peremptory +words and actions of her father to extinguish their love. + +Knight persevered in the tone and manner of a disinterested +outsider. It had become more than ever imperative to screen his +emotions from Stephen's eye; the young man would otherwise be less +frank, and their meeting would be again embittered. What was the +use of untoward candour? + +Stephen had now arrived at the point in his ingenuous narrative +where he left the vicarage because of her father's manner. +Knight's interest increased. Their love seemed so innocent and +childlike thus far. + +'It is a nice point in casuistry,' he observed, 'to decide whether +you were culpable or not in not telling Swancourt that your +friends were parishioners of his. It was only human nature to +hold your tongue under the circumstances. Well, what was the +result of your dismissal by him?' + +'That we agreed to be secretly faithful. And to insure this we +thought we would marry.' + +Knight's suspense and agitation rose higher when Stephen entered +upon this phase of the subject. + +'Do you mind telling on?' he said, steadying his manner of speech. + +'Oh, not at all.' + +Then Stephen gave in full the particulars of the meeting with +Elfride at the railway station; the necessity they were under of +going to London, unless the ceremony were to be postponed. The +long journey of the afternoon and evening; her timidity and +revulsion of feeling; its culmination on reaching London; the +crossing over to the down-platform and their immediate departure +again, solely in obedience to her wish; the journey all night; +their anxious watching for the dawn; their arrival at St. Launce's +at last--were detailed. And he told how a village woman named +Jethway was the only person who recognized them, either going or +coming; and how dreadfully this terrified Elfride. He told how he +waited in the fields whilst this then reproachful sweetheart went +for her pony, and how the last kiss he ever gave her was given a +mile out of the town, on the way to Endelstow. + +These things Stephen related with a will. He believed that in +doing so he established word by word the reasonableness of his +claim to Elfride. + +'Curse her! curse that woman!--that miserable letter that parted +us! O God!' + +Knight began pacing the room again, and uttered this at further +end. + +'What did you say?' said Stephen, turning round. + +'Say? Did I say anything? Oh, I was merely thinking about your +story, and the oddness of my having a fancy for the same woman +afterwards. And that now I--I have forgotten her almost; and +neither of us care about her, except just as a friend, you know, +eh?' + +Knight still continued at the further end of the room, somewhat in +shadow. + +'Exactly,' said Stephen, inwardly exultant, for he was really +deceived by Knight's off-hand manner. + +Yet he was deceived less by the completeness of Knight's disguise +than by the persuasive power which lay in the fact that Knight had +never before deceived him in anything. So this supposition that +his companion had ceased to love Elfride was an enormous +lightening of the weight which had turned the scale against him. + +'Admitting that Elfride COULD love another man after you,' said +the elder, under the same varnish of careless criticism, 'she was +none the worse for that experience.' + +'The worse? Of course she was none the worse.' + +'Did you ever think it a wild and thoughtless thing for her to +do?' + +'Indeed, I never did,' said Stephen. 'I persuaded her. She saw +no harm in it until she decided to return, nor did I; nor was +there, except to the extent of indiscretion.' + +'Directly she thought it was wrong she would go no further?' + +'That was it. I had just begun to think it wrong too.' + +'Such a childish escapade might have been misrepresented by any +evil-disposed person, might it not?' + +'It might; but I never heard that it was. Nobody who really knew +all the circumstances would have done otherwise than smile. If +all the world had known it, Elfride would still have remained the +only one who thought her action a sin. Poor child, she always +persisted in thinking so, and was frightened more than enough.' + +'Stephen, do you love her now?' + +'Well, I like her; I always shall, you know,' he said evasively, +and with all the strategy love suggested. 'But I have not seen +her for so long that I can hardly be expected to love her. Do you +love her still?' + +'How shall I answer without being ashamed? What fickle beings we +men are, Stephen! Men may love strongest for a while, but women +love longest. I used to love her--in my way, you know.' + +'Yes, I understand. Ah, and I used to love her in my way. In +fact, I loved her a good deal at one time; but travel has a +tendency to obliterate early fancies.' + +'It has--it has, truly.' + +Perhaps the most extraordinary feature in this conversation was +the circumstance that, though each interlocutor had at first his +suspicions of the other's abiding passion awakened by several +little acts, neither would allow himself to see that his friend +might now be speaking deceitfully as well as he. + +'Stephen.' resumed Knight, 'now that matters are smooth between +us, I think I must leave you. You won't mind my hurrying off to +my quarters?' + +'You'll stay to some sort of supper surely? didn't you come to +dinner!' + +'You must really excuse me this once.' + +'Then you'll drop in to breakfast to-morrow.' + +'I shall be rather pressed for time.' + +'An early breakfast, which shall interfere with nothing?' + +'I'll come,' said Knight, with as much readiness as it was +possible to graft upon a huge stock of reluctance. 'Yes, early; +eight o'clock say, as we are under the same roof.' + +'Any time you like. Eight it shall be.' + +And Knight left him. To wear a mask, to dissemble his feelings as +he had in their late miserable conversation, was such torture that +he could support it no longer. It was the first time in Knight's +life that he had ever been so entirely the player of a part. And +the man he had thus deceived was Stephen, who had docilely looked +up to him from youth as a superior of unblemished integrity. + +He went to bed, and allowed the fever of his excitement to rage +uncontrolled. Stephen--it was only he who was the rival--only +Stephen! There was an anti-climax of absurdity which Knight, +wretched and conscience-stricken as he was, could not help +recognizing. Stephen was but a boy to him. Where the great grief +lay was in perceiving that the very innocence of Elfride in +reading her little fault as one so grave was what had fatally +misled him. Had Elfride, with any degree of coolness, asserted +that she had done no harm, the poisonous breath of the dead Mrs. +Jethway would have been inoperative. Why did he not make his +little docile girl tell more? If on that subject he had only +exercised the imperativeness customary with him on others, all +might have been revealed. It smote his heart like a switch when +he remembered how gently she had borne his scourging speeches, +never answering him with a single reproach, only assuring him of +her unbounded love. + +Knight blessed Elfride for her sweetness, and forgot her fault. +He pictured with a vivid fancy those fair summer scenes with her. +He again saw her as at their first meeting, timid at speaking, yet +in her eagerness to be explanatory borne forward almost against +her will. How she would wait for him in green places, without +showing any of the ordinary womanly affectations of indifference! +How proud she was to be seen walking with him, bearing legibly in +her eyes the thought that he was the greatest genius in the world! + +He formed a resolution; and after that could make pretence of +slumber no longer. Rising and dressing himself, he sat down and +waited for day. + +That night Stephen was restless too. Not because of the +unwontedness of a return to English scenery; not because he was +about to meet his parents, and settle down for awhile to English +cottage life. He was indulging in dreams, and for the nonce the +warehouses of Bombay and the plains and forts of Poonah were but a +shadow's shadow. His dream was based on this one atom of fact: +Elfride and Knight had become separated, and their engagement was +as if it had never been. Their rupture must have occurred soon +after Stephen's discovery of the fact of their union; and, Stephen +went on to think, what so probable as that a return of her errant +affection to himself was the cause? + +Stephen's opinions in this matter were those of a lover, and not +the balanced judgment of an unbiassed spectator. His naturally +sanguine spirit built hope upon hope, till scarcely a doubt +remained in his mind that her lingering tenderness for him had in +some way been perceived by Knight, and had provoked their parting. + +To go and see Elfride was the suggestion of impulses it was +impossible to withstand. At any rate, to run down from St. +Launce's to Castle Poterel, a distance of less than twenty miles, +and glide like a ghost about their old haunts, making stealthy +inquiries about her, would be a fascinating way of passing the +first spare hours after reaching home on the day after the morrow. + +He was now a richer man than heretofore, standing on his own +bottom; and the definite position in which he had rooted himself +nullified old local distinctions. He had become illustrious, even +sanguine clarus, judging from the tone of the worthy Mayor of St. +Launce's. + + + +Chapter XXXIX + +'Each to the loved one's side.' + + +The friends and rivals breakfasted together the next morning. Not +a word was said on either side upon the matter discussed the +previous evening so glibly and so hollowly. Stephen was absorbed +the greater part of the time in wishing he were not forced to stay +in town yet another day. + +'I don't intend to leave for St. Launce's till to-morrow, as you +know,' he said to Knight at the end of the meal. 'What are you +going to do with yourself to-day?' + +'I have an engagement just before ten,' said Knight deliberately; +'and after that time I must call upon two or three people.' + +'I'll look for you this evening,' said Stephen. + +'Yes, do. You may as well come and dine with me; that is, if we +can meet. I may not sleep in London to-night; in fact, I am +absolutely unsettled as to my movements yet. However, the first +thing I am going to do is to get my baggage shifted from this +place to Bede's Inn. Good-bye for the present. I'll write, you +know, if I can't meet you.' + +It now wanted a quarter to nine o'clock. When Knight was gone, +Stephen felt yet more impatient of the circumstance that another +day would have to drag itself away wearily before he could set out +for that spot of earth whereon a soft thought of him might perhaps +be nourished still. On a sudden he admitted to his mind the +possibility that the engagement he was waiting in town to keep +might be postponed without much harm. + +It was no sooner perceived than attempted. Looking at his watch, +he found it wanted forty minutes to the departure of the ten +o'clock train from Paddington, which left him a surplus quarter of +an hour before it would be necessary to start for the station. + +Scribbling a hasty note or two--one putting off the business +meeting, another to Knight apologizing for not being able to see +him in the evening--paying his bill, and leaving his heavier +luggage to follow him by goods-train, he jumped into a cab and +rattled off to the Great Western Station. + +Shortly afterwards he took his seat in the railway carriage. + +The guard paused on his whistle, to let into the next compartment +to Smith's a man of whom Stephen had caught but a hasty glimpse as +he ran across the platform at the last moment. + +Smith sank back into the carriage, stilled by perplexity. The man +was like Knight--astonishingly like him. Was it possible it could +be he? To have got there he must have driven like the wind to +Bede's Inn, and hardly have alighted before starting again. No, +it could not be he; that was not his way of doing things. + +During the early part of the journey Stephen Smith's thoughts +busied themselves till his brain seemed swollen. One subject was +concerning his own approaching actions. He was a day earlier than +his letter to his parents had stated, and his arrangement with +them had been that they should meet him at Plymouth; a plan which +pleased the worthy couple beyond expression. Once before the same +engagement had been made, which he had then quashed by ante-dating +his arrival. This time he would go right on to Castle Boterel; +ramble in that well-known neighbourhood during the evening and +next morning, making inquiries; and return to Plymouth to meet +them as arranged--a contrivance which would leave their cherished +project undisturbed, relieving his own impatience also. + +At Chippenham there was a little waiting, and some loosening and +attaching of carriages. + +Stephen looked out. At the same moment another man's head emerged +from the adjoining window. Each looked in the other's face. + +Knight and Stephen confronted one another. + +'You here!' said the younger man. + +'Yes. It seems that you are too,' said Knight, strangely. + +'Yes.' + +The selfishness of love and the cruelty of jealousy were fairly +exemplified at this moment. Each of the two men looked at his +friend as he had never looked at him before. Each was TROUBLED at +the other's presence. + +'I thought you said you were not coming till to-morrow,' remarked +Knight. + +'I did. It was an afterthought to come to-day. This journey was +your engagement, then?' + +'No, it was not. This is an afterthought of mine too. I left a +note to explain it, and account for my not being able to meet you +this evening as we arranged.' + +'So did I for you.' + +'You don't look well: you did not this morning.' + +'I have a headache. You are paler to-day than you were.' + +'I, too, have been suffering from headache. We have to wait here +a few minutes, I think.' + +They walked up and down the platform, each one more and more +embarrassingly concerned with the awkwardness of his friend's +presence. They reached the end of the footway, and paused in +sheer absent-mindedness. Stephen's vacant eyes rested upon the +operations of some porters, who were shifting a dark and curious- +looking van from the rear of the train, to shunt another which was +between it and the fore part of the train. This operation having +been concluded, the two friends returned to the side of their +carriage. + +'Will you come in here?' said Knight, not very warmly. + +'I have my rug and portmanteau and umbrella with me: it is rather +bothering to move now,' said Stephen reluctantly. 'Why not you +come here?' + +'I have my traps too. It is hardly worth while to shift them, for +I shall see you again, you know.' + +'Oh, yes.' + +And each got into his own place. Just at starting, a man on the +platform held up his hands and stopped the train. + +Stephen looked out to see what was the matter. + +One of the officials was exclaiming to another, 'That carriage +should have been attached again. Can't you see it is for the main +line? Quick! What fools there are in the world!' + +'What a confounded nuisance these stoppages are!' exclaimed Knight +impatiently, looking out from his compartment. 'What is it?' + +'That singular carriage we saw has been unfastened from our train +by mistake, it seems,' said Stephen. + +He was watching the process of attaching it. The van or carriage, +which he now recognized as having seen at Paddington before they +started, was rich and solemn rather than gloomy in aspect. It +seemed to be quite new, and of modern design, and its impressive +personality attracted the notice of others beside himself. He +beheld it gradually wheeled forward by two men on each side: +slower and more sadly it seemed to approach: then a slight +concussion, and they were connected with it, and off again. + +Stephen sat all the afternoon pondering upon the reason of +Knight's unexpected reappearance. Was he going as far as Castle +Boterel? If so, he could only have one object in view--a visit to +Elfride. And what an idea it seemed! + +At Plymouth Smith partook of a little refreshment, and then went +round to the side from which the train started for Camelton, the +new station near Castle Boterel and Endelstow. + +Knight was already there. + +Stephen walked up and stood beside him without speaking. Two men +at this moment crept out from among the wheels of the waiting +train. + +'The carriage is light enough,' said one in a grim tone. 'Light +as vanity; full of nothing.' + +'Nothing in size, but a good deal in signification,' said the +other, a man of brighter mind and manners. + +Smith then perceived that to their train was attached that same +carriage of grand and dark aspect which had haunted them all the +way from London. + +'You are going on, I suppose?' said Knight, turning to Stephen, +after idly looking at the same object. + +'Yes.' + +'We may as well travel together for the remaining distance, may we +not?' + +'Certainly we will;' and they both entered the same door. + +Evening drew on apace. It chanced to be the eve of St. +Valentine's--that bishop of blessed memory to youthful lovers--and +the sun shone low under the rim of a thick hard cloud, decorating +the eminences of the landscape with crowns of orange fire. As the +train changed its direction on a curve, the same rays stretched in +through the window, and coaxed open Knight's half-closed eyes. + +'You will get out at St. Launce's, I suppose?' he murmured. + +'No,' said Stephen, 'I am not expected till to-morrow.' Knight was +silent. + +'And you--are you going to Endelstow?' said the younger man +pointedly. + +'Since you ask, I can do no less than say I am, Stephen,' +continued Knight slowly, and with more resolution of manner than +he had shown all the day. 'I am going to Endelstow to see if +Elfride Swancourt is still free; and if so, to ask her to be my +wife.' + +'So am I,' said Stephen Smith. + +'I think you'll lose your labour,' Knight returned with decision. + +'Naturally you do.' There was a strong accent of bitterness in +Stephen's voice. 'You might have said HOPE instead of THINK,' he +added. + +'I might have done no such thing. I gave you my opinion. Elfride +Swancourt may have loved you once, no doubt, but it was when she +was so young that she hardly knew her own mind.' + +'Thank you,' said Stephen laconically. 'She knew her mind as well +as I did. We are the same age. If you hadn't interfered----' + +'Don't say that--don't say it, Stephen! How can you make out that +I interfered? Be just, please!' + +'Well,' said his friend, 'she was mine before she was yours--you +know that! And it seemed a hard thing to find you had got her, and +that if it had not been for you, all might have turned out well +for me.' Stephen spoke with a swelling heart, and looked out of +the window to hide the emotion that would make itself visible upon +his face. + +'It is absurd,' said Knight in a kinder tone, 'for you to look at +the matter in that light. What I tell you is for your good. You +naturally do not like to realize the truth--that her liking for +you was only a girl's first fancy, which has no root ever.' + +'It is not true!' said Stephen passionately. 'It was you put me +out. And now you'll be pushing in again between us, and depriving +me of my chance again! My right, that's what it is! How ungenerous +of you to come anew and try to take her away from me! When you had +won her, I did not interfere; and you might, I think, Mr. Knight, +do by me as I did by you!' + +'Don't "Mr." me; you are as well in the world as I am now.' + +'First love is deepest; and that was mine.' + +'Who told you that?' said Knight superciliously. + +'I had her first love. And it was through me that you and she +parted. I can guess that well enough.' + +'It was. And if I were to explain to you in what way that +operated in parting us, I should convince you that you do quite +wrong in intruding upon her--that, as I said at first, your labour +will be lost. I don't choose to explain, because the particulars +are painful. But if you won't listen to me, go on, for Heaven's +sake. I don't care what you do, my boy.' + +'You have no right to domineer over me as you do. Just because, +when I was a lad, I was accustomed to look up to you as a master, +and you helped me a little, for which I was grateful to you and +have loved you, you assume too much now, and step in before me. +It is cruel--it is unjust--of you to injure me so!' + +Knight showed himself keenly hurt at this. 'Stephen, those words +are untrue and unworthy of any man, and they are unworthy of you. +You know you wrong me. If you have ever profited by any +instruction of mine, I am only too glad to know it. You know it +was given ungrudgingly, and that I have never once looked upon it +as making you in any way a debtor to me.' + +Stephen's naturally gentle nature was touched, and it was in a +troubled voice that he said, 'Yes, yes. I am unjust in that--I +own it.' + +'This is St. Launce's Station, I think. Are you going to get +out?' + +Knight's manner of returning to the matter in hand drew Stephen +again into himself. 'No; I told you I was going to Endelstow,' he +resolutely replied. + +Knight's features became impassive, and he said no more. The +train continued rattling on, and Stephen leant back in his corner +and closed his eyes. The yellows of evening had turned to browns, +the dusky shades thickened, and a flying cloud of dust +occasionally stroked the window--borne upon a chilling breeze +which blew from the north-east. The previously gilded but now +dreary hills began to lose their daylight aspects of rotundity, +and to become black discs vandyked against the sky, all nature +wearing the cloak that six o'clock casts over the landscape at +this time of the year. + +Stephen started up in bewilderment after a long stillness, and it +was some time before he recollected himself. + +'Well, how real, how real!' he exclaimed, brushing his hand across +his eyes. + +'What is?' said Knight. + +'That dream. I fell asleep for a few minutes, and have had a +dream--the most vivid I ever remember.' + +He wearily looked out into the gloom. They were now drawing near +to Camelton. The lighting of the lamps was perceptible through +the veil of evening--each flame starting into existence at +intervals, and blinking weakly against the gusts of wind. + +'What did you dream?' said Knight moodily. + +'Oh, nothing to be told. 'Twas a sort of incubus. There is never +anything in dreams.' + +'I hardly supposed there was.' + +'I know that. However, what I so vividly dreamt was this, since +you would like to hear. It was the brightest of bright mornings +at East Endelstow Church, and you and I stood by the font. Far +away in the chancel Lord Luxellian was standing alone, cold and +impassive, and utterly unlike his usual self: but I knew it was +he. Inside the altar rail stood a strange clergyman with his book +open. He looked up and said to Lord Luxellian, "Where's the +bride?" Lord Luxellian said, "There's no bride." At that moment +somebody came in at the door, and I knew her to be Lady Luxellian +who died. He turned and said to her, "I thought you were in the +vault below us; but that could have only been a dream of mine. +Come on." Then she came on. And in brushing between us she +chilled me so with cold that I exclaimed, "The life is gone out of +me!" and, in the way of dreams, I awoke. But here we are at +Camelton.' + +They were slowly entering the station. + +'What are you going to do?' said Knight. 'Do you really intend to +call on the Swancourts?' + +'By no means. I am going to make inquiries first. I shall stay +at the Luxellian Arms to-night. You will go right on to +Endelstow, I suppose, at once?' + +'I can hardly do that at this time of the day. Perhaps you are +not aware that the family--her father, at any rate--is at variance +with me as much as with you. + +'I didn't know it.' + +'And that I cannot rush into the house as an old friend any more +than you can. Certainly I have the privileges of a distant +relationship, whatever they may be.' + +Knight let down the window, and looked ahead. 'There are a great +many people at the station,' he said. 'They seem all to be on the +look-out for us.' + +When the train stopped, the half-estranged friends could perceive +by the lamplight that the assemblage of idlers enclosed as a +kernel a group of men in black cloaks. A side gate in the +platform railing was open, and outside this stood a dark vehicle, +which they could not at first characterize. Then Knight saw on +its upper part forms against the sky like cedars by night, and +knew the vehicle to be a hearse. Few people were at the carriage +doors to meet the passengers--the majority had congregated at this +upper end. Knight and Stephen alighted, and turned for a moment +in the same direction. + +The sombre van, which had accompanied them all day from London, +now began to reveal that their destination was also its own. It +had been drawn up exactly opposite the open gate. The bystanders +all fell back, forming a clear lane from the gateway to the van, +and the men in cloaks entered the latter conveyance. + +'They are labourers, I fancy,' said Stephen. 'Ah, it is strange; +but I recognize three of them as Endelstow men. Rather remarkable +this.' + +Presently they began to come out, two and two; and under the rays +of the lamp they were seen to bear between them a light-coloured +coffin of satin-wood, brightly polished, and without a nail. The +eight men took the burden upon their shoulders, and slowly crossed +with it over to the gate. + +Knight and Stephen went outside, and came close to the procession +as it moved off. A carriage belonging to the cortege turned round +close to a lamp. The rays shone in upon the face of the vicar of +Endelstow, Mr. Swancourt--looking many years older than when they +had last seen him. Knight and Stephen involuntarily drew back. + +Knight spoke to a bystander. 'What has Mr. Swancourt to do with +that funeral?' + +'He is the lady's father,' said the bystander. + +'What lady's father?' said Knight, in a voice so hollow that the +man stared at him. + +'The father of the lady in the coffin. She died in London, you +know, and has been brought here by this train. She is to be taken +home to-night, and buried to-morrow.' + +Knight stood staring blindly at where the hearse had been; as if +he saw it, or some one, there. Then he turned, and beheld the +lithe form of Stephen bowed down like that of an old man. He took +his young friend's arm, and led him away from the light. + + + +Chapter XL + +'Welcome, proud lady.' + + +Half an hour has passed. Two miserable men are wandering in the +darkness up the miles of road from Camelton to Endelstow. + +'Has she broken her heart?' said Henry Knight. 'Can it be that I +have killed her? I was bitter with her, Stephen, and she has died! +And may God have NO mercy upon me!' + +'How can you have killed her more than I?' + +'Why, I went away from her--stole away almost--and didn't tell her +I should not come again; and at that last meeting I did not kiss +her once, but let her miserably go. I have been a fool--a fool! I +wish the most abject confession of it before crowds of my +countrymen could in any way make amends to my darling for the +intense cruelty I have shown her!' + +'YOUR darling!' said Stephen, with a sort of laugh. 'Any man can +say that, I suppose; any man can. I know this, she was MY darling +before she was yours; and after too. If anybody has a right to +call her his own, it is I.' + +'You talk like a man in the dark; which is what you are. Did she +ever do anything for you? Risk her name, for instance, for you?' + +Yes, she did,' said Stephen emphatically. + +'Not entirely. Did she ever live for you--prove she could not +live without you--laugh and weep for you?' + +'Yes.' + +'Never! Did she ever risk her life for you--no! My darling did for +me.' + +'Then it was in kindness only. When did she risk her life for +you?' + +'To save mine on the cliff yonder. The poor child was with me +looking at the approach of the Puffin steamboat, and I slipped +down. We both had a narrow escape. I wish we had died there!' + +'Ah, but wait,' Stephen pleaded with wet eyes. 'She went on that +cliff to see me arrive home: she had promised it. She told me she +would months before. And would she have gone there if she had not +cared for me at all?' + +'You have an idea that Elfride died for you, no doubt,' said +Knight, with a mournful sarcasm too nerveless to support itself. + +'Never mind. If we find that--that she died yours, I'll say no +more ever.' + +'And if we find she died yours, I'll say no more.' + +'Very well--so it shall be.' + +The dark clouds into which the sun had sunk had begun to drop rain +in an increasing volume. + +'Can we wait somewhere here till this shower is over?' said +Stephen desultorily. + +'As you will. But it is not worth while. We'll hear the +particulars, and return. Don't let people know who we are. I am +not much now.' + +They had reached a point at which the road branched into two--just +outside the west village, one fork of the diverging routes passing +into the latter place, the other stretching on to East Endelstow. +Having come some of the distance by the footpath, they now found +that the hearse was only a little in advance of them. + +'I fancy it has turned off to East Endelstow. Can you see?' + +'I cannot. You must be mistaken.' + +Knight and Stephen entered the village. A bar of fiery light lay +across the road, proceeding from the half-open door of a smithy, +in which bellows were heard blowing and a hammer ringing. The +rain had increased, and they mechanically turned for shelter +towards the warm and cosy scene. + +Close at their heels came another man, without over-coat or +umbrella, and with a parcel under his arm. + +'A wet evening,' he said to the two friends, and passed by them. +They stood in the outer penthouse, but the man went in to the +fire. + +The smith ceased his blowing, and began talking to the man who had +entered. + +'I have walked all the way from Camelton,' said the latter. 'Was +obliged to come to-night, you know.' + +He held the parcel, which was a flat one, towards the firelight, +to learn if the rain had penetrated it. Resting it edgewise on +the forge, he supported it perpendicularly with one hand, wiping +his face with the handkerchief he held in the other. + +'I suppose you know what I've got here?' he observed to the smith. + +'No, I don't,' said the smith, pausing again on his bellows. + +'As the rain's not over, I'll show you,' said the bearer. + +He laid the thin and broad package, which had acute angles in +different directions, flat upon the anvil, and the smith blew up +the fire to give him more light. First, after untying the +package, a sheet of brown paper was removed: this was laid flat. +Then he unfolded a piece of baize: this also he spread flat on the +paper. The third covering was a wrapper of tissue paper, which +was spread out in its turn. The enclosure was revealed, and he +held it up for the smith's inspection. + +'Oh--I see!' said the smith, kindling with a chastened interest, +and drawing close. 'Poor young lady--ah, terrible melancholy +thing--so soon too!' + +Knight and Stephen turned their heads and looked. + +'And what's that?' continued the smith. + +'That's the coronet--beautifully finished, isn't it? Ah, that cost +some money!' + +''Tis as fine a bit of metal work as ever I see--that 'tis.' + +'It came from the same people as the coffin, you know, but was not +ready soon enough to be sent round to the house in London +yesterday. I've got to fix it on this very night.' + +The carefully-packed articles were a coffin-plate and coronet. + +Knight and Stephen came forward. The undertaker's man, on seeing +them look for the inscription, civilly turned it round towards +them, and each read, almost at one moment, by the ruddy light of +the coals: + + +E L F R I D E, +Wife of Spenser Hugo Luxellian, +Fifteenth Baron Luxellian: +Died February 10, 18--. + + +They read it, and read it, and read it again--Stephen and Knight-- +as if animated by one soul. Then Stephen put his hand upon +Knight's arm, and they retired from the yellow glow, further, +further, till the chill darkness enclosed them round, and the +quiet sky asserted its presence overhead as a dim grey sheet of +blank monotony. + +'Where shall we go?' said Stephen. + +'I don't know.' + +A long silence ensued....'Elfride married!' said Stephen then in a +thin whisper, as if he feared to let the assertion loose on the +world. + +'False,' whispered Knight. + +'And dead. Denied us both. I hate "false"--I hate it!' + +Knight made no answer. + +Nothing was heard by them now save the slow measurement of time by +their beating pulses, the soft touch of the dribbling rain upon +their clothes, and the low purr of the blacksmith's bellows hard +by. + +'Shall we follow Elfie any further?' Stephen said. + +'No: let us leave her alone. She is beyond our love, and let her +be beyond our reproach. Since we don't know half the reasons that +made her do as she did, Stephen, how can we say, even now, that +she was not pure and true in heart?' Knight's voice had now become +mild and gentle as a child's. He went on: 'Can we call her +ambitious? No. Circumstance has, as usual, overpowered her +purposes--fragile and delicate as she--liable to be overthrown in +a moment by the coarse elements of accident. I know that's it,-- +don't you?' + +'It may be--it must be. Let us go on.' + +They began to bend their steps towards Castle Boterel, whither +they had sent their bags from Camelton. They wandered on in +silence for many minutes. Stephen then paused, and lightly put +his hand within Knight's arm. + +'I wonder how she came to die,' he said in a broken whisper. +'Shall we return and learn a little more?' + +They turned back again, and entering Endelstow a second time, came +to a door which was standing open. It was that of an inn called +the Welcome Home, and the house appeared to have been recently +repaired and entirely modernized. The name too was not that of +the same landlord as formerly, but Martin Cannister's. + +Knight and Smith entered. The inn was quite silent, and they +followed the passage till they reached the kitchen, where a huge +fire was burning, which roared up the chimney, and sent over the +floor, ceiling, and newly-whitened walls a glare so intense as to +make the candle quite a secondary light. A woman in a white apron +and black gown was standing there alone behind a cleanly-scrubbed +deal table. Stephen first, and Knight afterwards, recognized her +as Unity, who had been parlour-maid at the vicarage and young +lady's-maid at the Crags. + +'Unity,' said Stephen softly, 'don't you know me?' + +She looked inquiringly a moment, and her face cleared up. + +'Mr. Smith--ay, that it is!' she said. 'And that's Mr. Knight. I +beg you to sit down. Perhaps you know that since I saw you last I +have married Martin Cannister.' + +'How long have you been married?' + +'About five months. We were married the same day that my dear +Miss Elfie became Lady Luxellian.' Tears appeared in Unity's eyes, +and filled them, and fell down her cheek, in spite of efforts to +the contrary. + +The pain of the two men in resolutely controlling themselves when +thus exampled to admit relief of the same kind was distressing. +They both turned their backs and walked a few steps away. + +Then Unity said, 'Will you go into the parlour, gentlemen?' + +'Let us stay here with her,' Knight whispered, and turning said, +'No; we will sit here. We want to rest and dry ourselves here for +a time, if you please.' + +That evening the sorrowing friends sat with their hostess beside +the large fire, Knight in the recess formed by the chimney breast, +where he was in shade. And by showing a little confidence they +won hers, and she told them what they had stayed to hear--the +latter history of poor Elfride. + +'One day--after you, Mr. Knight, left us for the last time--she +was missed from the Crags, and her father went after her, and +brought her home ill. Where she went to, I never knew--but she +was very unwell for weeks afterwards. And she said to me that she +didn't care what became of her, and she wished she could die. +When she was better, I said she would live to be married yet, and +she said then, "Yes; I'll do anything for the benefit of my +family, so as to turn my useless life to some practical account." +Well, it began like this about Lord Luxellian courting her. The +first Lady Luxellian had died, and he was in great trouble because +the little girls were left motherless. After a while they used to +come and see her in their little black frocks, for they liked her +as well or better than their own mother---that's true. They used +to call her "little mamma." These children made her a shade +livelier, but she was not the girl she had been--I could see that-- +and she grew thinner a good deal. Well, my lord got to ask the +Swancourts oftener and oftener to dinner--nobody else of his +acquaintance--and at last the vicar's family were backwards and +forwards at all hours of the day. Well, people say that the +little girls asked their father to let Miss Elfride come and live +with them, and that he said perhaps he would if they were good +children. However, the time went on, and one day I said, "Miss +Elfride, you don't look so well as you used to; and though nobody +else seems to notice it I do." She laughed a little, and said, "I +shall live to be married yet, as you told me." + +'"Shall you, miss? I am glad to hear that," I said. + +'"Whom do you think I am going to be married to?" she said again. + +'"Mr. Knight, I suppose," said I. + +'"Oh!" she cried, and turned off so white, and afore I could get +to her she had sunk down like a heap of clothes, and fainted away. +Well, then, she came to herself after a time, and said, "Unity, +now we'll go on with our conversation." + +'"Better not to-day, miss," I said. + +'"Yes, we will," she said. "Whom do you think I am going to be +married to?" + +'"I don't know," I said this time. + +'"Guess," she said. + +'"'Tisn't my lord, is it?" says I. + +'"Yes, 'tis," says she, in a sick wild way. + +'"But he don't come courting much," I said. + +"'Ah! you don't know," she said, and told me 'twas going to be in +October. After that she freshened up a bit--whether 'twas with +the thought of getting away from home or not, I don't know. For, +perhaps, I may as well speak plainly, and tell you that her home +was no home to her now. Her father was bitter to her and harsh +upon her; and though Mrs. Swancourt was well enough in her way, +'twas a sort of cold politeness that was not worth much, and the +little thing had a worrying time of it altogether. About a month +before the wedding, she and my lord and the two children used to +ride about together upon horseback, and a very pretty sight they +were; and if you'll believe me, I never saw him once with her +unless the children were with her too--which made the courting so +strange-looking. Ay, and my lord is so handsome, you know, so +that at last I think she rather liked him; and I have seen her +smile and blush a bit at things he said. He wanted her the more +because the children did, for everybody could see that she would +be a most tender mother to them, and friend and playmate too. And +my lord is not only handsome, but a splendid courter, and up to +all the ways o't. So he made her the beautifullest presents; ah, +one I can mind--a lovely bracelet, with diamonds and emeralds. +Oh, how red her face came when she saw it! The old roses came back +to her cheeks for a minute or two then. I helped dress her the +day we both were married--it was the last service I did her, poor +child! When she was ready, I ran upstairs and slipped on my own +wedding gown, and away they went, and away went Martin and I; and +no sooner had my lord and my lady been married than the parson +married us. It was a very quiet pair of weddings--hardly anybody +knew it. Well, hope will hold its own in a young heart, if so be +it can; and my lady freshened up a bit, for my lord was SO +handsome and kind.' + +'How came she to die--and away from home?' murmured Knight. + +'Don't you see, sir, she fell off again afore they'd been married +long, and my lord took her abroad for change of scene. They were +coming home, and had got as far as London, when she was taken very +ill and couldn't be moved, and there she died.' + +'Was he very fond of her?' + +'What, my lord? Oh, he was!' + +'VERY fond of her?' + +'VERY, beyond everything. Not suddenly, but by slow degrees. +'Twas her nature to win people more when they knew her well. He'd +have died for her, I believe. Poor my lord, he's heart-broken +now!' + +'The funeral is to-morrow?' + +'Yes; my husband is now at the vault with the masons, opening the +steps and cleaning down the walls.' + + +The next day two men walked up the familiar valley from Castle +Boterel to East Endelstow Church. And when the funeral was over, +and every one had left the lawn-like churchyard, the pair went +softly down the steps of the Luxellian vault, and under the low- +groined arches they had beheld once before, lit up then as now. +In the new niche of the crypt lay a rather new coffin, which had +lost some of its lustre, and a newer coffin still, bright and +untarnished in the slightest degree. + +Beside the latter was the dark form of a man, kneeling on the damp +floor, his body flung across the coffin, his hands clasped, and +his whole frame seemingly given up in utter abandonment to grief. +He was still young--younger, perhaps, than Knight--and even now +showed how graceful was his figure and symmetrical his build. He +murmured a prayer half aloud, and was quite unconscious that two +others were standing within a few yards of him. + +Knight and Stephen had advanced to where they once stood beside +Elfride on the day all three had met there, before she had herself +gone down into silence like her ancestors, and shut her bright +blue eyes for ever. Not until then did they see the kneeling +figure in the dim light. Knight instantly recognized the mourner +as Lord Luxellian, the bereaved husband of Elfride. + +They felt themselves to be intruders. Knight pressed Stephen +back, and they silently withdrew as they had entered. + +'Come away,' he said, in a broken voice. 'We have no right to be +there. Another stands before us--nearer to her than we!' + +And side by side they both retraced their steps down the grey +still valley to Castle Boterel. + + + + + +The End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of Hardy's A Pair of Blue Eyes + + |