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@@ -5,17 +5,25 @@ THE LONGEST JOURNEY - By E. M. Forster -PART 1 -- CAMBRIDGE +Part 1 — Cambridge + +Part 2 — Sawston + +Part 3 — Wiltshire + + +Part 1 — Cambridge + I + “The cow is there,” said Ansell, lighting a match and holding it out over the carpet. No one spoke. He waited till the end of the match fell off. Then he said again, “She is there, the cow. There, now.” @@ -25,24 +33,24 @@ off. Then he said again, “She is there, the cow. There, now.” “I have proved it to myself.” “I have proved to myself that she isn’t,” said the voice. “The cow is -not there.” Ansell frowned and lit another match. +_not_ there.” Ansell frowned and lit another match. -“She’s there for me,” he declared. “I don’t care whether she’s there for -you or not. Whether I’m in Cambridge or Iceland or dead, the cow will be -there.” +“She’s there for me,” he declared. “I don’t care whether she’s there +for you or not. Whether I’m in Cambridge or Iceland or dead, the cow +will be there.” It was philosophy. They were discussing the existence of objects. Do -they exist only when there is some one to look at them? Or have they a -real existence of their own? It is all very interesting, but at the same -time it is difficult. Hence the cow. She seemed to make things +they exist only when there is some one to look at them? Or have they +a real existence of their own? It is all very interesting, but at the +same time it is difficult. Hence the cow. She seemed to make things easier. She was so familiar, so solid, that surely the truths that she illustrated would in time become familiar and solid also. Is the cow there or not? This was better than deciding between objectivity and -subjectivity. So at Oxford, just at the same time, one was asking, “What -do our rooms look like in the vac.?” +subjectivity. So at Oxford, just at the same time, one was asking, +“What do our rooms look like in the vac.?” -“Look here, Ansell. I’m there--in the meadow--the cow’s there. You’re -there--the cow’s there. Do you agree so far?” “Well?” +“Look here, Ansell. I’m there—in the meadow—the cow’s there. You’re +there—the cow’s there. Do you agree so far?” “Well?” “Well, if you go, the cow stops; but if I go, the cow goes. Then what will happen if you stop and I go?” @@ -52,28 +60,28 @@ Several voices cried out that this was quibbling. “I know it is,” said the speaker brightly, and silence descended again, while they tried honestly to think the matter out. -Rickie, on whose carpet the matches were being dropped, did not like to -join in the discussion. It was too difficult for him. He could not even -quibble. If he spoke, he should simply make himself a fool. He preferred -to listen, and to watch the tobacco-smoke stealing out past the -window-seat into the tranquil October air. He could see the court too, -and the college cat teasing the college tortoise, and the kitchen-men -with supper-trays upon their heads. Hot food for one--that must be for -the geographical don, who never came in for Hall; cold food for three, -apparently at half-a-crown a head, for some one he did not know; hot -food, a la carte--obviously for the ladies haunting the next staircase; -cold food for two, at two shillings--going to Ansell’s rooms for himself -and Ansell, and as it passed under the lamp he saw that it was meringues -again. Then the bedmakers began to arrive, chatting to each other -pleasantly, and he could hear Ansell’s bedmaker say, “Oh dang!” when -she found she had to lay Ansell’s tablecloth; for there was not a breath -stirring. The great elms were motionless, and seemed still in the glory -of midsummer, for the darkness hid the yellow blotches on their leaves, -and their outlines were still rounded against the tender sky. Those elms -were Dryads--so Rickie believed or pretended, and the line between the -two is subtler than we admit. At all events they were lady trees, and -had for generations fooled the college statutes by their residence in -the haunts of youth. +Rickie, on whose carpet the matches were being dropped, did not like +to join in the discussion. It was too difficult for him. He could +not even quibble. If he spoke, he should simply make himself a fool. +He preferred to listen, and to watch the tobacco-smoke stealing out +past the window-seat into the tranquil October air. He could see the +court too, and the college cat teasing the college tortoise, and the +kitchen-men with supper-trays upon their heads. Hot food for one—that +must be for the geographical don, who never came in for Hall; cold food +for three, apparently at half-a-crown a head, for some one he did not +know; hot food, _à la carte _—obviously for the ladies haunting the next +staircase; cold food for two, at two shillings—going to Ansell’s rooms +for himself and Ansell, and as it passed under the lamp he saw that it +was meringues again. Then the bedmakers began to arrive, chatting to +each other pleasantly, and he could hear Ansell’s bedmaker say, “Oh +dang!” when she found she had to lay Ansell’s tablecloth; for there was +not a breath stirring. The great elms were motionless, and seemed still +in the glory of midsummer, for the darkness hid the yellow blotches on +their leaves, and their outlines were still rounded against the tender +sky. Those elms were Dryads—so Rickie believed or pretended, and the +line between the two is subtler than we admit. At all events they were +lady trees, and had for generations fooled the college statutes by +their residence in the haunts of youth. But what about the cow? He returned to her with a start, for this would never do. He also would try to think the matter out. Was she there or @@ -83,27 +91,27 @@ Either way it was attractive. If she was there, other cows were there too. The darkness of Europe was dotted with them, and in the far East their flanks were shining in the rising sun. Great herds of them stood browsing in pastures where no man came nor need ever come, or plashed -knee-deep by the brink of impassable rivers. And this, moreover, was the -view of Ansell. Yet Tilliard’s view had a good deal in it. One might do -worse than follow Tilliard, and suppose the cow not to be there unless -oneself was there to see her. A cowless world, then, stretched round -him on every side. Yet he had only to peep into a field, and, click! it -would at once become radiant with bovine life. - -Suddenly he realized that this, again, would never do. As usual, he had -missed the whole point, and was overlaying philosophy with gross and -senseless details. For if the cow was not there, the world and the +knee-deep by the brink of impassable rivers. And this, moreover, was +the view of Ansell. Yet Tilliard’s view had a good deal in it. One +might do worse than follow Tilliard, and suppose the cow not to be +there unless oneself was there to see her. A cowless world, then, +stretched round him on every side. Yet he had only to peep into a +field, and, click! it would at once become radiant with bovine life. + +Suddenly he realized that this, again, would never do. As usual, he +had missed the whole point, and was overlaying philosophy with gross +and senseless details. For if the cow was not there, the world and the fields were not there either. And what would Ansell care about sunlit -flanks or impassable streams? Rickie rebuked his own groveling soul, and -turned his eyes away from the night, which had led him to such absurd -conclusions. +flanks or impassable streams? Rickie rebuked his own groveling soul, +and turned his eyes away from the night, which had led him to such +absurd conclusions. The fire was dancing, and the shadow of Ansell, who stood close up to it, seemed to dominate the little room. He was still talking, or rather jerking, and he was still lighting matches and dropping their ends upon the carpet. Now and then he would make a motion with his feet as if he -were running quickly backward upstairs, and would tread on the edge -of the fender, so that the fire-irons went flying and the buttered-bun +were running quickly backward upstairs, and would tread on the edge of +the fender, so that the fire-irons went flying and the buttered-bun dishes crashed against each other in the hearth. The other philosophers were crouched in odd shapes on the sofa and table and chairs, and one, who was a little bored, had crawled to the piano and was timidly trying @@ -114,9 +122,9 @@ one before his acquiescent eyes. In the morning he had read Theocritus, whom he believed to be the greatest of Greek poets; he had lunched with a merry don and had tasted Zwieback biscuits; then he had walked with people he liked, and had walked just long enough; and now his room was -full of other people whom he liked, and when they left he would go and -have supper with Ansell, whom he liked as well as any one. A year ago -he had known none of these joys. He had crept cold and friendless +full of other people whom he liked, and when they left he would go +and have supper with Ansell, whom he liked as well as any one. A year +ago he had known none of these joys. He had crept cold and friendless and ignorant out of a great public school, preparing for a silent and solitary journey, and praying as a highest favour that he might be left alone. Cambridge had not answered his prayer. She had taken and soothed @@ -138,8 +146,8 @@ from the passage. “Ladies!” whispered every-one in great agitation. -“Yes?” he said nervously, limping towards the door (he was rather lame). -“Yes? Please come in. Can I be any good--” +“Yes?” he said nervously, limping towards the door (he was rather +lame). “Yes? Please come in. Can I be any good—” “Wicked boy!” exclaimed the young lady, advancing a gloved finger into the room. “Wicked, wicked boy!” @@ -152,21 +160,21 @@ He clasped his head with his hands. philosophers were revealed with unpleasing suddenness. “My goodness, a tea-party! Oh really, Rickie, you are too bad! I say again: wicked, abominable, intolerable boy! I’ll have you horsewhipped. If you -please”--she turned to the symposium, which had now risen to its feet -“If you please, he asks me and my brother for the week-end. We +please”—she turned to the symposium, which had now risen to its +feet “If you please, he asks me and my brother for the week-end. We accept. At the station, no Rickie. We drive to where his old lodgings -were--Trumpery Road or some such name--and he’s left them. I’m furious, -and before I can stop my brother, he’s paid off the cab and there we are -stranded. I’ve walked--walked for miles. Pray can you tell me what is to -be done with Rickie?” +were—Trumpery Road or some such name—and he’s left them. I’m furious, +and before I can stop my brother, he’s paid off the cab and there we +are stranded. I’ve walked—walked for miles. Pray can you tell me what +is to be done with Rickie?” -“He must indeed be horsewhipped,” said Tilliard pleasantly. Then he made -a bolt for the door. +“He must indeed be horsewhipped,” said Tilliard pleasantly. Then he +made a bolt for the door. -“Tilliard--do stop--let me introduce Miss Pembroke--don’t all go!” For +“Tilliard—do stop—let me introduce Miss Pembroke—don’t all go!” For his friends were flying from his visitor like mists before the sun. -“Oh, Agnes, I am so sorry; I’ve nothing to say. I simply forgot you were -coming, and everything about you.” +“Oh, Agnes, I am so sorry; I’ve nothing to say. I simply forgot you +were coming, and everything about you.” “Thank you, thank you! And how soon will you remember to ask where Herbert is?” @@ -188,16 +196,16 @@ acted discourteously to his bedmaker or his gyp, he would have minded just as much, which was not polite of him. “First, I’ll go and get food. Do sit down and rest. Oh, let me -introduce--” +introduce—” -Ansell was now the sole remnant of the discussion party. He still stood -on the hearthrug with a burnt match in his hand. Miss Pembroke’s arrival -had never disturbed him. +Ansell was now the sole remnant of the discussion party. He still +stood on the hearthrug with a burnt match in his hand. Miss Pembroke’s +arrival had never disturbed him. -“Let me introduce Mr. Ansell--Miss Pembroke.” +“Let me introduce Mr. Ansell—Miss Pembroke.” -There came an awful moment--a moment when he almost regretted that -he had a clever friend. Ansell remained absolutely motionless, moving +There came an awful moment—a moment when he almost regretted that he +had a clever friend. Ansell remained absolutely motionless, moving neither hand nor head. Such behaviour is so unknown that Miss Pembroke did not realize what had happened, and kept her own hand stretched out longer than is maidenly. @@ -209,48 +217,48 @@ longer than is maidenly. Ansell departed without another word. “Don’t mind us,” said Miss Pembroke pleasantly. “Why shouldn’t you keep -your engagement with your friend? Herbert’s finding lodgings,--that’s -why he’s not here,--and they’re sure to be able to give us some dinner. +your engagement with your friend? Herbert’s finding lodgings,—that’s +why he’s not here,—and they’re sure to be able to give us some dinner. What jolly rooms you’ve got!” -“Oh no--not a bit. I say, I am sorry. I am sorry. I am most awfully +“Oh no—not a bit. I say, I am sorry. I am sorry. I am most awfully sorry.” “What about?” -“Ansell” Then he burst forth. “Ansell isn’t a gentleman. His father’s a -draper. His uncles are farmers. He’s here because he’s so clever--just +“Ansell—” Then he burst forth. “Ansell isn’t a gentleman. His father’s +a draper. His uncles are farmers. He’s here because he’s so clever—just on account of his brains. Now, sit down. He isn’t a gentleman at all.” - And he hurried off to order some dinner. +And he hurried off to order some dinner. “What a snob the boy is getting!” thought Agnes, a good deal mollified. -It never struck her that those could be the words of affection--that +It never struck her that those could be the words of affection—that Rickie would never have spoken them about a person whom he disliked. Nor did it strike her that Ansell’s humble birth scarcely explained the quality of his rudeness. She was willing to find life full of -trivialities. Six months ago and she might have minded; but now--she +trivialities. Six months ago and she might have minded; but now—she cared not what men might do unto her, for she had her own splendid -lover, who could have knocked all these unhealthy undergraduates into -a cocked-hat. She dared not tell Gerald a word of what had happened: he +lover, who could have knocked all these unhealthy undergraduates into a +cocked-hat. She dared not tell Gerald a word of what had happened: he might have come up from wherever he was and half killed Ansell. And she determined not to tell her brother either, for her nature was kindly, and it pleased her to pass things over. She took off her gloves, and then she took off her ear-rings and began -to admire them. These ear-rings were a freak of hers--her only freak. +to admire them. These ear-rings were a freak of hers—her only freak. She had always wanted some, and the day Gerald asked her to marry him -she went to a shop and had her ears pierced. In some wonderful way she -knew that it was right. And he had given her the rings--little gold -knobs, copied, the jeweller told them, from something prehistoric and -he had kissed the spots of blood on her handkerchief. Herbert, as usual, -had been shocked. +she went to a shop and had her ears pierced. In some wonderful way +she knew that it was right. And he had given her the rings—little +gold knobs, copied, the jeweller told them, from something prehistoric +and he had kissed the spots of blood on her handkerchief. Herbert, as +usual, had been shocked. “I can’t help it,” she cried, springing up. “I’m not like other girls.” - She began to pace about Rickie’s room, for she hated to keep quiet. +She began to pace about Rickie’s room, for she hated to keep quiet. There was nothing much to see in it. The pictures were not attractive, -nor did they attract her--school groups, Watts’ “Sir Percival,” a -dog running after a rabbit, a man running after a maid, a cheap brown -Madonna in a cheap green frame--in short, a collection where one +nor did they attract her—school groups, Watts’ “Sir Percival,” a dog +running after a rabbit, a man running after a maid, a cheap brown +Madonna in a cheap green frame—in short, a collection where one mediocrity was generally cancelled by another. Over the door there hung a long photograph of a city with waterways, which Agnes, who had never been to Venice, took to be Venice, but which people who had been to @@ -269,15 +277,15 @@ and one of them had a thick heel to help him towards an even walk. she saw other shoes and boots and pumps, a whole row of them, all deformed. “Ugh! Poor boy! It is too bad. Why shouldn’t he be like other people? This hereditary business is too awful.” She shut the door with -a sigh. Then she recalled the perfect form of Gerald, his athletic walk, -the poise of his shoulders, his arms stretched forward to receive her. -Gradually she was comforted. +a sigh. Then she recalled the perfect form of Gerald, his athletic +walk, the poise of his shoulders, his arms stretched forward to receive +her. Gradually she was comforted. “I beg your pardon, miss, but might I ask how many to lay?” It was the bedmaker, Mrs. Aberdeen. -“Three, I think,” said Agnes, smiling pleasantly. “Mr. Elliot’ll be back -in a minute. He has gone to order dinner. +“Three, I think,” said Agnes, smiling pleasantly. “Mr. Elliot’ll be +back in a minute. He has gone to order dinner. “Thank you, miss.” @@ -287,12 +295,12 @@ in a minute. He has gone to order dinner. “Why are his so easy?” -“Because no nasty corners in them to hold the dirt. Mr. Anderson--he’s -below-has crinkly noctagons, and one wouldn’t believe the difference. +“Because no nasty corners in them to hold the dirt. Mr. Anderson—he’s +below—has crinkly noctagons, and one wouldn’t believe the difference. It was I bought these for Mr. Elliot. His one thought is to save one trouble. I never seed such a thoughtful gentleman. The world, I say, -will be the better for him.” She took the teacups into the gyp room, and -then returned with the tablecloth, and added, “if he’s spared.” +will be the better for him.” She took the teacups into the gyp room, +and then returned with the tablecloth, and added, “if he’s spared.” “I’m afraid he isn’t strong,” said Agnes. @@ -302,20 +310,20 @@ nor mother. His nose! It poured twice with blood in the Long.” “Yes?” -“It’s a thing that ought to be known. I assure you, that little room!... -And in any case, Mr. Elliot’s a gentleman that can ill afford to lose -it. Luckily his friends were up; and I always say they’re more like -brothers than anything else.” +“It’s a thing that ought to be known. I assure you, that little +room!... And in any case, Mr. Elliot’s a gentleman that can ill afford +to lose it. Luckily his friends were up; and I always say they’re more +like brothers than anything else.” “Nice for him. He has no real brothers.” “Oh, Mr. Hornblower, he is a merry gentleman, and Mr. Tilliard too! And Mr. Elliot himself likes his romp at times. Why, it’s the merriest -staircase in the buildings! Last night the bedmaker from W said to -me, ‘What are you doing to my gentlemen? Here’s Mr. Ansell come back ‘ot -with his collar flopping.’ I said, ‘And a good thing.’ Some bedders keep -their gentlemen just so; but surely, miss, the world being what it is, -the longer one is able to laugh in it the better.” +staircase in the buildings! Last night the bedmaker from W said to me, +‘What are you doing to my gentlemen? Here’s Mr. Ansell come back ’ot +with his collar flopping.’ I said, ‘And a good thing.’ Some bedders +keep their gentlemen just so; but surely, miss, the world being what it +is, the longer one is able to laugh in it the better.” Bedmakers have to be comic and dishonest. It is expected of them. In a picture of university life it is their only function. So when we meet @@ -332,7 +340,7 @@ arrival of her brother. “I am not peevish, Agnes, but I have a full right to be. Pray, why did he not meet us? Why did he not provide rooms? And pray, why did you leave me to do all the settling? All the lodgings I knew are full, and -our bedrooms look into a mews. I cannot help it. And then--look here! +our bedrooms look into a mews. I cannot help it. And then—look here! It really is too bad.” He held up his foot like a wounded dog. It was dripping with water. @@ -347,27 +355,28 @@ the men, too, wore an Eton tie. But the others, I should say, came from very queer schools, if they came from any schools at all.” Mr. Pembroke was nearly twenty years older than his sister, and had -never been as handsome. But he was not at all the person to knock into -a gutter, for though not in orders, he had the air of being on the verge -of them, and his features, as well as his clothes, had the clerical -cut. In his presence conversation became pure and colourless and full -of understatements, and--just as if he was a real clergyman--neither -men nor boys ever forgot that he was there. He had observed this, and it -pleased him very much. His conscience permitted him to enter the Church -whenever his profession, which was the scholastic, should demand it. +never been as handsome. But he was not at all the person to knock +into a gutter, for though not in orders, he had the air of being +on the verge of them, and his features, as well as his clothes, +had the clerical cut. In his presence conversation became pure and +colourless and full of understatements, and—just as if he was a real +clergyman—neither men nor boys ever forgot that he was there. He had +observed this, and it pleased him very much. His conscience permitted +him to enter the Church whenever his profession, which was the +scholastic, should demand it. “No gutter in the world’s as wet as this,” said Agnes, who had peeled off her brother’s sock, and was now toasting it at the embers on a pair of tongs. “Surely you know the running water by the edge of the Trumpington road? -It’s turned on occasionally to clear away the refuse--a most primitive +It’s turned on occasionally to clear away the refuse—a most primitive idea. When I was up we had a joke about it, and called it the ‘Pem.’” “How complimentary!” -“You foolish girl,--not after me, of course. We called it the ‘Pem’ -because it is close to Pembroke College. I remember--” He smiled a +“You foolish girl,—not after me, of course. We called it the ‘Pem’ +because it is close to Pembroke College. I remember—” He smiled a little, and twiddled his toes. Then he remembered the bedmaker, and said, “My sock is now dry. My sock, please.” @@ -377,8 +386,8 @@ and a pair of Rickie’s shoes. “Thank you; ah, thank you. I am sure Mr. Elliot would allow it.” -Then he said in French to his sister, “Has there been the slightest sign -of Frederick?” +Then he said in French to his sister, “Has there been the slightest +sign of Frederick?” “Now, do call him Rickie, and talk English. I found him here. He had forgotten about us, and was very sorry. Now he’s gone to get some @@ -388,32 +397,32 @@ Mrs. Aberdeen left them. “He wants pulling up sharply. There is nothing original in absent-mindedness. True originality lies elsewhere. Really, the lower -classes have no nous. However can I wear such deformities?” For he had -been madly trying to cram a right-hand foot into a left-hand shoe. +classes have no _nous_. However can I wear such deformities?” For he +had been madly trying to cram a right-hand foot into a left-hand shoe. -“Don’t!” said Agnes hastily. “Don’t touch the poor fellow’s things.” The -sight of the smart, stubby patent leather made her almost feel faint. -She had known Rickie for many years, but it seemed so dreadful and so -different now that he was a man. It was her first great contact with the -abnormal, and unknown fibres of her being rose in revolt against it. She -frowned when she heard his uneven tread upon the stairs. +“Don’t!” said Agnes hastily. “Don’t touch the poor fellow’s things.” +The sight of the smart, stubby patent leather made her almost feel +faint. She had known Rickie for many years, but it seemed so dreadful +and so different now that he was a man. It was her first great contact +with the abnormal, and unknown fibres of her being rose in revolt +against it. She frowned when she heard his uneven tread upon the stairs. -“Agnes--before he arrives--you ought never to have left me and gone +“Agnes—before he arrives—you ought never to have left me and gone to his rooms alone. A most elementary transgression. Imagine the -unpleasantness if you had found him with friends. If Gerald--” +unpleasantness if you had found him with friends. If Gerald—” Rickie by now had got into a fluster. At the kitchens he had lost his -head, and when his turn came--he had had to wait--he had yielded his +head, and when his turn came—he had had to wait—he had yielded his place to those behind, saying that he didn’t matter. And he had wasted more precious time buying bananas, though he knew that the Pembrokes were not partial to fruit. Amid much tardy and chaotic hospitality -the meal got under way. All the spoons and forks were anyhow, for Mrs. -Aberdeen’s virtues were not practical. The fish seemed never to have -been alive, the meat had no kick, and the cork of the college +the meal got under way. All the spoons and forks were anyhow, for +Mrs. Aberdeen’s virtues were not practical. The fish seemed never to +have been alive, the meat had no kick, and the cork of the college claret slid forth silently, as if ashamed of the contents. Agnes was particularly pleasant. But her brother could not recover himself. He -still remembered their desolate arrival, and he could feel the waters of -the Pem eating into his instep. +still remembered their desolate arrival, and he could feel the waters +of the Pem eating into his instep. “Rickie,” cried the lady, “are you aware that you haven’t congratulated me on my engagement?” @@ -454,13 +463,13 @@ it must be most awfully interesting.” Mr. Pembroke laughed faintly. -“Yes, Rickie. The army is a most interesting profession,--the profession -of Wellington and Marlborough and Lord Roberts; a most interesting -profession, as you observe. A profession that may mean death--death, -rather than dishonour.” +“Yes, Rickie. The army is a most interesting profession,—the +profession of Wellington and Marlborough and Lord Roberts; a most +interesting profession, as you observe. A profession that may mean +death—death, rather than dishonour.” -“That’s nice,” said Rickie, speaking to himself. “Any profession -may mean dishonour, but one isn’t allowed to die instead. The army’s +“That’s nice,” said Rickie, speaking to himself. “Any profession may +mean dishonour, but one isn’t allowed to die instead. The army’s different. If a soldier makes a mess, it’s thought rather decent of him, isn’t it, if he blows out his brains? In the other professions it somehow seems cowardly.” @@ -468,7 +477,7 @@ somehow seems cowardly.” “I am not competent to pronounce,” said Mr. Pembroke, who was not accustomed to have his schoolroom satire commented on. “I merely know that the army is the finest profession in the world. Which reminds me, -Rickie--have you been thinking about yours?” +Rickie—have you been thinking about yours?” “No.” @@ -479,16 +488,16 @@ Rickie--have you been thinking about yours?” “Now, Herbert, don’t bother him. Have another meringue.” “But, Rickie, my dear boy, you’re twenty. It’s time you thought. The -Tripos is the beginning of life, not the end. In less than two years you -will have got your B.A. What are you going to do with it?” +Tripos is the beginning of life, not the end. In less than two years +you will have got your B.A. What are you going to do with it?” “I don’t know.” -“You’re M.A., aren’t you?” asked Agnes; but her brother proceeded-- +“You’re M.A., aren’t you?” asked Agnes; but her brother proceeded— “I have seen so many promising, brilliant lives wrecked simply on -account of this--not settling soon enough. My dear boy, you must think. -Consult your tastes if possible--but think. You have not a moment to +account of this—_not settling soon enough_. My dear boy, you must think. +Consult your tastes if possible—but think. You have not a moment to lose. The Bar, like your father?” “Oh, I wouldn’t like that at all.” @@ -507,8 +516,8 @@ said, “I’ve sometimes wondered about writing.” “Writing?” said Mr. Pembroke, with the tone of one who gives everything its trial. “Well, what about writing? What kind of writing?” -“I rather like,”--he suppressed something in his throat,--“I rather like -trying to write little stories.” +“I rather like,”—he suppressed something in his throat,—“I rather +like trying to write little stories.” “Why, I made sure it was poetry!” said Agnes. “You’re just the boy for poetry.” @@ -530,13 +539,14 @@ anything. I just try because it amuses me.” Mr. Pembroke did not reply, firstly, because the meringue he was eating was, after all, Rickie’s; secondly, because it was gluey and stuck his jaws together. Agnes observed that the writing was really a very good -idea: there was Rickie’s aunt,--she could push him. +idea: there was Rickie’s aunt,—she could push him. -“Aunt Emily never pushes any one; she says they always rebound and crush -her.” +“Aunt Emily never pushes any one; she says they always rebound and +crush her.” -“I only had the pleasure of seeing your aunt once. I should have thought -her a quite uncrushable person. But she would be sure to help you.” +“I only had the pleasure of seeing your aunt once. I should have +thought her a quite uncrushable person. But she would be sure to help +you.” “I couldn’t show her anything. She’d think them even sillier than they are.” @@ -550,16 +560,16 @@ longer. “My dear Rickie, your father and mother are dead, and you often say your aunt takes no interest in you. Therefore your life depends on yourself. Think it over carefully, but settle, and having once settled, stick. If you think that this writing is practicable, and that you -could make your living by it--that you could, if needs be, support a -wife--then by all means write. But you must work. Work and drudge. Begin -at the bottom of the ladder and work upwards.” +could make your living by it—that you could, if needs be, support a +wife—then by all means write. But you must work. Work and drudge. +Begin at the bottom of the ladder and work upwards.” Rickie’s head drooped. Any metaphor silenced him. He never thought of -replying that art is not a ladder--with a curate, as it were, on the +replying that art is not a ladder—with a curate, as it were, on the first rung, a rector on the second, and a bishop, still nearer heaven, at the top. He never retorted that the artist is not a bricklayer at -all, but a horseman, whose business it is to catch Pegasus at once, -not to practise for him by mounting tamer colts. This is hard, hot, and +all, but a horseman, whose business it is to catch Pegasus at once, not +to practise for him by mounting tamer colts. This is hard, hot, and generally ungraceful work, but it is not drudgery. For drudgery is not art, and cannot lead to it. @@ -578,8 +588,9 @@ me.” “Rickie!” she exclaimed. “Horrible boy!” -“No, Agnes, I have no ideals.” Then he got very red, for it was a phrase -he had caught from Ansell, and he could not remember what came next. +“No, Agnes, I have no ideals.” Then he got very red, for it was a +phrase he had caught from Ansell, and he could not remember what came +next. “The person who has no ideals,” she exclaimed, “is to be pitied.” @@ -587,10 +598,10 @@ he had caught from Ansell, and he could not remember what came next. an ideal would be like the sky without the sun.” Rickie looked towards the night, wherein there now twinkled innumerable -stars--gods and heroes, virgins and brides, to whom the Greeks have +stars—gods and heroes, virgins and brides, to whom the Greeks have given their names. -“Life without an ideal--” repeated Mr. Pembroke, and then stopped, for +“Life without an ideal—” repeated Mr. Pembroke, and then stopped, for his mouth was full of coffee grounds. The same affliction had overtaken Agnes. After a little jocose laughter they departed to their lodgings, and Rickie, having seen them as far as the porter’s lodge, hurried, @@ -598,30 +609,30 @@ singing as he went, to Ansell’s room, burst open the door, and said, “Look here! Whatever do you mean by it?” “By what?” Ansell was sitting alone with a piece of paper in front of -him. On it was a diagram--a circle inside a square, inside which was +him. On it was a diagram—a circle inside a square, inside which was again a square. “By being so rude. You’re no gentleman, and I told her so.” He slammed him on the head with a sofa cushion. “I’m certain one ought to be -polite, even to people who aren’t saved.” (“Not saved” was a phrase they -applied just then to those whom they did not like or intimately +polite, even to people who aren’t saved.” (“Not saved” was a phrase +they applied just then to those whom they did not like or intimately know.) “And I believe she is saved. I never knew any one so always good-tempered and kind. She’s been kind to me ever since I knew her. I wish you’d heard her trying to stop her brother: you’d have certainly come round. Not but what he was only being nice as well. But she is -really nice. And I thought she came into the room so beautifully. Do you -know--oh, of course, you despise music--but Anderson was playing Wagner, -and he’d just got to the part where they sing +really nice. And I thought she came into the room so beautifully. Do +you know—oh, of course, you despise music—but Anderson was playing +Wagner, and he’d just got to the part where they sing ‘Rheingold! - ‘Rheingold! + Rheingold!’ -and the sun strikes into the waters, and the music, which up to then has -so often been in E flat--” +and the sun strikes into the waters, and the music, which up to then +has so often been in E flat—” “Goes into D sharp. I have not understood a single word, partly because -you talk as if your mouth was full of plums, partly because I don’t know -whom you’re talking about.” “Miss Pembroke--whom you saw.” +you talk as if your mouth was full of plums, partly because I don’t +know whom you’re talking about.” “Miss Pembroke—whom you saw.” “I saw no one.” @@ -629,8 +640,8 @@ whom you’re talking about.” “Miss Pembroke--whom you saw.” “No one came in.” -“You’re an ass!” shrieked Rickie. “She came in. You saw her come in. She -and her brother have been to dinner.” +“You’re an ass!” shrieked Rickie. “She came in. You saw her come in. +She and her brother have been to dinner.” “You only think so. They were not really there.” @@ -638,7 +649,7 @@ and her brother have been to dinner.” “You only think that they are stopping.” -“But--oh, look here, shut up! The girl like an empress--” +“But—oh, look here, shut up! The girl like an empress—” “I saw no empress, nor any girl, nor have you seen them.” @@ -647,20 +658,20 @@ and her brother have been to dinner.” “Elliot, I never rag, and you know it. She was not really there.” There was a moment’s silence. Then Rickie exclaimed, “I’ve got you. You -say--or was it Tilliard?--no, YOU say that the cow’s there. Well--there +say—or was it Tilliard?—no, _you_ say that the cow’s there. Well—there these people are, then. Got you. Yah!” -“Did it never strike you that phenomena may be of two kinds: ONE, those -which have a real existence, such as the cow; TWO, those which are -the subjective product of a diseased imagination, and which, to our +“Did it never strike you that phenomena may be of two kinds: _one_, +those which have a real existence, such as the cow; _two_, those which +are the subjective product of a diseased imagination, and which, to our destruction, we invest with the semblance of reality? If this never struck you, let it strike you now.” -Rickie spoke again, but received no answer. He paced a little up and -down the sombre roam. Then he sat on the edge of the table and watched -his clever friend draw within the square a circle, and within the -circle a square, and inside that another circle, and inside that another -square. +Rickie spoke again, but received no answer. He paced a little up +and down the sombre room. Then he sat on the edge of the table and +watched his clever friend draw within the square a circle, and within +the circle a square, and inside that another circle, and inside that +another square. “Why will you do that?” @@ -668,51 +679,54 @@ No answer. “Are they real?” -“The inside one is--the one in the middle of everything, that there’s +“The inside one is—the one in the middle of everything, that there’s never room enough to draw.” + II + A little this side of Madingley, to the left of the road, there is a -secluded dell, paved with grass and planted with fir-trees. It could not -have been worth a visit twenty years ago, for then it was only a scar -of chalk, and it is not worth a visit at the present day, for the trees -have grown too thick and choked it. But when Rickie was up, it chanced -to be the brief season of its romance, a season as brief for a chalk-pit -as a man--its divine interval between the bareness of boyhood and the -stuffiness of age. Rickie had discovered it in his second term, when the -January snows had melted and left fiords and lagoons of clearest water -between the inequalities of the floor. The place looked as big as -Switzerland or Norway--as indeed for the moment it was--and he came upon -it at a time when his life too was beginning to expand. Accordingly the -dell became for him a kind of church--a church where indeed you could -do anything you liked, but where anything you did would be transfigured. -Like the ancient Greeks, he could even laugh at his holy place and -leave it no less holy. He chatted gaily about it, and about the pleasant -thoughts with which it inspired him; he took his friends there; he even -took people whom he did not like. “Procul este, profani!” exclaimed a -delighted aesthete on being introduced to it. But this was never to be -the attitude of Rickie. He did not love the vulgar herd, but he knew -that his own vulgarity would be greater if he forbade it ingress, and -that it was not by preciosity that he would attain to the intimate -spirit of the dell. Indeed, if he had agreed with the aesthete, he -would possibly not have introduced him. If the dell was to bear any -inscription, he would have liked it to be “This way to Heaven,” painted -on a sign-post by the high-road, and he did not realize till later years -that the number of visitors would not thereby have sensibly increased. +secluded dell, paved with grass and planted with fir-trees. It could +not have been worth a visit twenty years ago, for then it was only a +scar of chalk, and it is not worth a visit at the present day, for the +trees have grown too thick and choked it. But when Rickie was up, it +chanced to be the brief season of its romance, a season as brief for a +chalk-pit as a man—its divine interval between the bareness of boyhood +and the stuffiness of age. Rickie had discovered it in his second +term, when the January snows had melted and left fiords and lagoons of +clearest water between the inequalities of the floor. The place looked +as big as Switzerland or Norway—as indeed for the moment it was—and +he came upon it at a time when his life too was beginning to expand. +Accordingly the dell became for him a kind of church—a church where +indeed you could do anything you liked, but where anything you did +would be transfigured. Like the ancient Greeks, he could even laugh at +his holy place and leave it no less holy. He chatted gaily about it, +and about the pleasant thoughts with which it inspired him; he took +his friends there; he even took people whom he did not like. “_Procul +este, profani!_” exclaimed a delighted aesthete on being introduced to +it. But this was never to be the attitude of Rickie. He did not love +the vulgar herd, but he knew that his own vulgarity would be greater if +he forbade it ingress, and that it was not by preciosity that he would +attain to the intimate spirit of the dell. Indeed, if he had agreed +with the aesthete, he would possibly not have introduced him. If the +dell was to bear any inscription, he would have liked it to be “This +way to Heaven,” painted on a sign-post by the high-road, and he did not +realize till later years that the number of visitors would not thereby +have sensibly increased. On the blessed Monday that the Pembrokes left, he walked out here with -three friends. It was a day when the sky seemed enormous. One cloud, -as large as a continent, was voyaging near the sun, whilst other clouds +three friends. It was a day when the sky seemed enormous. One cloud, as +large as a continent, was voyaging near the sun, whilst other clouds seemed anchored to the horizon, too lazy or too happy to move. The sky itself was of the palest blue, paling to white where it approached the -earth; and the earth, brown, wet, and odorous, was engaged beneath it on -its yearly duty of decay. Rickie was open to the complexities of autumn; -he felt extremely tiny--extremely tiny and extremely important; and -perhaps the combination is as fair as any that exists. He hoped that all -his life he would never be peevish or unkind. +earth; and the earth, brown, wet, and odorous, was engaged beneath it +on its yearly duty of decay. Rickie was open to the complexities of +autumn; he felt extremely tiny—extremely tiny and extremely important; +and perhaps the combination is as fair as any that exists. He hoped +that all his life he would never be peevish or unkind. “Elliot is in a dangerous state,” said Ansell. They had reached the dell, and had stood for some time in silence, each leaning against a @@ -730,8 +744,8 @@ him back into his coat-pocket. Scarcely ever was he without a book. The others gave shrill agonized cries. -“He wants to bind the college together. He wants to link us to the beefy -set.” +“He wants to bind the college together. He wants to link us to the +beefy set.” “I do like Hornblower,” he protested. “I don’t try.” @@ -747,45 +761,45 @@ pity the college should be split into sets.” “Oh, Tilliard!” said Ansell, with much irritation. “But what can you expect from a person who’s eternally beautiful? The other night we had -been discussing a long time, and suddenly the light was turned on. Every -one else looked a sight, as they ought. But there was Tilliard, sitting -neatly on a little chair, like an undersized god, with not a curl -crooked. I should say he will get into the Foreign Office.” +been discussing a long time, and suddenly the light was turned on. +Every one else looked a sight, as they ought. But there was Tilliard, +sitting neatly on a little chair, like an undersized god, with not a +curl crooked. I should say he will get into the Foreign Office.” “Why are most of us so ugly?” laughed Rickie. -“It’s merely a sign of our salvation--merely another sign that the +“It’s merely a sign of our salvation—merely another sign that the college is split.” -“The college isn’t split,” cried Rickie, who got excited on this subject -with unfailing regularity. “The college is, and has been, and always -will be, one. What you call the beefy set aren’t a set at all. They’re -just the rowing people, and naturally they chiefly see each other; but -they’re always nice to me or to any one. Of course, they think us rather -asses, but it’s quite in a pleasant way.” +“The college isn’t split,” cried Rickie, who got excited on this +subject with unfailing regularity. “The college is, and has been, and +always will be, one. What you call the beefy set aren’t a set at all. +They’re just the rowing people, and naturally they chiefly see each +other; but they’re always nice to me or to any one. Of course, they +think us rather asses, but it’s quite in a pleasant way.” “That’s my whole objection,” said Ansell. “What right have they to -think us asses in a pleasant way? Why don’t they hate us? What right has -Hornblower to smack me on the back when I’ve been rude to him?” +think us asses in a pleasant way? Why don’t they hate us? What right +has Hornblower to smack me on the back when I’ve been rude to him?” “Well, what right have you to be rude to him?” -“Because I hate him. You think it is so splendid to hate no one. I tell -you it is a crime. You want to love every one equally, and that’s worse -than impossible it’s wrong. When you denounce sets, you’re really trying -to destroy friendship.” +“Because I hate him. You think it is so splendid to hate no one. I +tell you it is a crime. You want to love every one equally, and that’s +worse than impossible—it’s wrong. When you denounce sets, you’re really +trying to destroy friendship.” -“I maintain,” said Rickie--it was a verb he clung to, in the hope that -it would lend stability to what followed--“I maintain that one can like +“I maintain,” said Rickie—it was a verb he clung to, in the hope that +it would lend stability to what followed—“I maintain that one can like many more people than one supposes.” “And I maintain that you hate many more people than you pretend.” -“I hate no one,” he exclaimed with extraordinary vehemence, and the dell -re-echoed that it hated no one. +“I hate no one,” he exclaimed with extraordinary vehemence, and the +dell re-echoed that it hated no one. -“We are obliged to believe you,” said Widdrington, smiling a little “but -we are sorry about it.” +“We are obliged to believe you,” said Widdrington, smiling a little; +“but we are sorry about it.” “Not even your father?” asked Ansell. @@ -804,12 +818,12 @@ good!” “Still, it’s something. Do you hate yours?” -Ansell did not reply. Rickie said: “I say, I wonder whether one ought to -talk like this?” +Ansell did not reply. Rickie said: “I say, I wonder whether one ought +to talk like this?” “About hating dead people?” -“Yes--” +“Yes—” “Did you hate your mother?” asked Widdrington. @@ -823,11 +837,11 @@ an awkward moment. You can go.” Widdrington was crimson too. In his wish to be sprightly he had used words without thinking of their meanings. Suddenly he realized that -“father” and “mother” really meant father and mother--people whom he had -himself at home. He was very uncomfortable, and thought Rickie had been -rather queer. He too tried to revert to Hornblower, but Ansell would not -let him. The sun came out, and struck on the white ramparts of the dell. -Rickie looked straight at it. Then he said abruptly-- +“father” and “mother” really meant father and mother—people whom he +had himself at home. He was very uncomfortable, and thought Rickie had +been rather queer. He too tried to revert to Hornblower, but Ansell +would not let him. The sun came out, and struck on the white ramparts +of the dell. Rickie looked straight at it. Then he said abruptly— “I think I want to talk.” @@ -835,60 +849,62 @@ Rickie looked straight at it. Then he said abruptly-- “Shouldn’t I be rather a fool if I went through Cambridge without talking? It’s said never to come so easy again. All the people are dead -too. I can’t see why I shouldn’t tell you most things about my birth and -parentage and education.” +too. I can’t see why I shouldn’t tell you most things about my birth +and parentage and education.” “Talk away. If you bore us, we have books.” With this invitation Rickie began to relate his history. The reader who has no book will be obliged to listen to it. + • • • • • + Some people spend their lives in a suburb, and not for any urgent reason. This had been the fate of Rickie. He had opened his eyes to filmy heavens, and taken his first walk on asphalt. He had seen -civilization as a row of semi-detached villas, and society as a state in -which men do not know the men who live next door. He had himself become -part of the grey monotony that surrounds all cities. There was no -necessity for this--it was only rather convenient to his father. +civilization as a row of semi-detached villas, and society as a state +in which men do not know the men who live next door. He had himself +become part of the grey monotony that surrounds all cities. There was +no necessity for this—it was only rather convenient to his father. Mr. Elliot was a barrister. In appearance he resembled his son, being weakly and lame, with hollow little cheeks, a broad white band of forehead, and stiff impoverished hair. His voice, which he did not -transmit, was very suave, with a fine command of cynical intonation. -By altering it ever so little he could make people wince, especially if +transmit, was very suave, with a fine command of cynical intonation. By +altering it ever so little he could make people wince, especially if they were simple or poor. Nor did he transmit his eyes. Their peculiar flatness, as if the soul looked through dirty window-panes, the -unkindness of them, the cowardice, the fear in them, were to trouble the -world no longer. - -He married a girl whose voice was beautiful. There was no caress in -it yet all who heard it were soothed, as though the world held some -unexpected blessing. She called to her dogs one night over invisible -waters, and he, a tourist up on the bridge, thought “that is -extraordinarily adequate.” In time he discovered that her figure, face, -and thoughts were adequate also, and as she was not impossible socially, -he married her. “I have taken a plunge,” he told his family. The family, -hostile at first, had not a word to say when the woman was introduced -to them; and his sister declared that the plunge had been taken from the -opposite bank. +unkindness of them, the cowardice, the fear in them, were to trouble +the world no longer. + +He married a girl whose voice was beautiful. There was no caress +in it yet all who heard it were soothed, as though the world held +some unexpected blessing. She called to her dogs one night over +invisible waters, and he, a tourist up on the bridge, thought “that +is extraordinarily adequate.” In time he discovered that her figure, +face, and thoughts were adequate also, and as she was not impossible +socially, he married her. “I have taken a plunge,” he told his family. +The family, hostile at first, had not a word to say when the woman was +introduced to them; and his sister declared that the plunge had been +taken from the opposite bank. Things only went right for a little time. Though beautiful without and within, Mrs. Elliot had not the gift of making her home beautiful; and -one day, when she bought a carpet for the dining-room that clashed, he -laughed gently, said he “really couldn’t,” and departed. Departure is -perhaps too strong a word. In Mrs. Elliot’s mouth it became, “My husband -has to sleep more in town.” He often came down to see them, nearly -always unexpectedly, and occasionally they went to see him. “Father’s -house,” as Rickie called it, only had three rooms, but these were full -of books and pictures and flowers; and the flowers, instead of being -squashed down into the vases as they were in mummy’s house, rose -gracefully from frames of lead which lay coiled at the bottom, as -doubtless the sea serpent has to lie, coiled at the bottom of the sea. -Once he was let to lift a frame out--only once, for he dropped some -water on a creton. “I think he’s going to have taste,” said Mr. Elliot -languidly. “It is quite possible,” his wife replied. She had not taken -off her hat and gloves, nor even pulled up her veil. Mr. Elliot laughed, -and soon afterwards another lady came in, and they--went away. +one day, when she bought a carpet for the dining-room that clashed, +he laughed gently, said he “really couldn’t,” and departed. Departure +is perhaps too strong a word. In Mrs. Elliot’s mouth it became, “My +husband has to sleep more in town.” He often came down to see them, +nearly always unexpectedly, and occasionally they went to see him. +“Father’s house,” as Rickie called it, only had three rooms, but these +were full of books and pictures and flowers; and the flowers, instead +of being squashed down into the vases as they were in mummy’s house, +rose gracefully from frames of lead which lay coiled at the bottom, +as doubtless the sea serpent has to lie, coiled at the bottom of the +sea. Once he was let to lift a frame out—only once, for he dropped +some water on a creton. “I think he’s going to have taste,” said Mr. +Elliot languidly. “It is quite possible,” his wife replied. She had not +taken off her hat and gloves, nor even pulled up her veil. Mr. Elliot +laughed, and soon afterwards another lady came in, and they—went away. “Why does father always laugh?” asked Rickie in the evening when he and his mother were sitting in the nursery. @@ -909,7 +925,7 @@ alone all down in the sweet peas.” “Yes. Were you laughing at me?” -“I was not thinking about you. Cotton, please--a reel of No. 50 white +“I was not thinking about you. Cotton, please—a reel of No. 50 white from my chest of drawers. Left hand drawer. Now which is your left hand?” @@ -920,52 +936,52 @@ hand?” “The side my bad foot is.” “I meant you to say, ‘the side my heart is,’” said Mrs. Elliot, holding -up the duster between them. “Most of us--I mean all of us--can feel on -one side a little watch, that never stops ticking. So even if you had no -bad foot you would still know which is the left. No. 50 white, please. -No; I’ll get it myself.” For she had remembered that the dark passage -frightened him. - -These were the outlines. Rickie filled them in with the slowness and the -accuracy of a child. He was never told anything, but he discovered for -himself that his father and mother did not love each other, and that his -mother was lovable. He discovered that Mr. Elliot had dubbed him Rickie -because he was rickety, that he took pleasure in alluding to his son’s -deformity, and was sorry that it was not more serious than his own. Mr. -Elliot had not one scrap of genius. He gathered the pictures and the -books and the flower-supports mechanically, not in any impulse of love. -He passed for a cultured man because he knew how to select, and he -passed for an unconventional man because he did not select quite like -other people. In reality he never did or said or thought one single -thing that had the slightest beauty or value. And in time Rickie -discovered this as well. - -The boy grew up in great loneliness. He worshipped his mother, and she -was fond of him. But she was dignified and reticent, and pathos, like -tattle, was disgusting to her. She was afraid of intimacy, in case it -led to confidences and tears, and so all her life she held her son at a -little distance. Her kindness and unselfishness knew no limits, but if -he tried to be dramatic and thank her, she told him not to be a little -goose. And so the only person he came to know at all was himself. -He would play Halma against himself. He would conduct solitary -conversations, in which one part of him asked and another part answered. -It was an exciting game, and concluded with the formula: “Good-bye. -Thank you. I am glad to have met you. I hope before long we shall enjoy -another chat.” And then perhaps he would sob for loneliness, for he -would see real people--real brothers, real friends--doing in warm life -the things he had pretended. “Shall I ever have a friend?” he demanded -at the age of twelve. “I don’t see how. They walk too fast. And a -brother I shall never have.” +up the duster between them. “Most of us—I mean all of us—can feel +on one side a little watch, that never stops ticking. So even if you +had no bad foot you would still know which is the left. No. 50 white, +please. No; I’ll get it myself.” For she had remembered that the dark +passage frightened him. + +These were the outlines. Rickie filled them in with the slowness and +the accuracy of a child. He was never told anything, but he discovered +for himself that his father and mother did not love each other, and +that his mother was lovable. He discovered that Mr. Elliot had dubbed +him Rickie because he was rickety, that he took pleasure in alluding +to his son’s deformity, and was sorry that it was not more serious +than his own. Mr. Elliot had not one scrap of genius. He gathered the +pictures and the books and the flower-supports mechanically, not in +any impulse of love. He passed for a cultured man because he knew how +to select, and he passed for an unconventional man because he did not +select quite like other people. In reality he never did or said or +thought one single thing that had the slightest beauty or value. And in +time Rickie discovered this as well. + +The boy grew up in great loneliness. He worshipped his mother, and +she was fond of him. But she was dignified and reticent, and pathos, +like tattle, was disgusting to her. She was afraid of intimacy, in +case it led to confidences and tears, and so all her life she held +her son at a little distance. Her kindness and unselfishness knew +no limits, but if he tried to be dramatic and thank her, she told +him not to be a little goose. And so the only person he came to know +at all was himself. He would play Halma against himself. He would +conduct solitary conversations, in which one part of him asked and +another part answered. It was an exciting game, and concluded with +the formula: “Good-bye. Thank you. I am glad to have met you. I hope +before long we shall enjoy another chat.” And then perhaps he would +sob for loneliness, for he would see real people—real brothers, real +friends—doing in warm life the things he had pretended. “Shall I ever +have a friend?” he demanded at the age of twelve. “I don’t see how. +They walk too fast. And a brother I shall never have.” (“No loss,” interrupted Widdrington. “But I shall never have one, and so I quite want one, even now.”) -When he was thirteen Mr. Elliot entered on his illness. The pretty rooms -in town would not do for an invalid, and so he came back to his home. -One of the first consequences was that Rickie was sent to a public -school. Mrs. Elliot did what she could, but she had no hold whatever -over her husband. +When he was thirteen Mr. Elliot entered on his illness. The pretty +rooms in town would not do for an invalid, and so he came back to +his home. One of the first consequences was that Rickie was sent to +a public school. Mrs. Elliot did what she could, but she had no hold +whatever over her husband. “He worries me,” he declared. “He’s a joke of which I have got tired.” @@ -974,33 +990,35 @@ over her husband. “No,” said Mr. Elliot, who had all the money. “Coddling.” “I agree that boys ought to rough it; but when a boy is lame and very -delicate, he roughs it sufficiently if he leaves home. Rickie can’t play -games. He doesn’t make friends. He isn’t brilliant. Thinking it over, I -feel that as it’s like this, we can’t ever hope to give him the ordinary -education. Perhaps you could think it over too.” No. +delicate, he roughs it sufficiently if he leaves home. Rickie can’t +play games. He doesn’t make friends. He isn’t brilliant. Thinking it +over, I feel that as it’s like this, we can’t ever hope to give him the +ordinary education. Perhaps you could think it over too.” + +“No.” “I am sure that things are best for him as they are. The day-school knocks quite as many corners off him as he can stand. He hates it, but it is good for him. A public school will not be good for him. It is too -rough. Instead of getting manly and hard, he will--” +rough. Instead of getting manly and hard, he will—” “My head, please.” -Rickie departed in a state of bewildered misery, which was scarcely ever -to grow clearer. +Rickie departed in a state of bewildered misery, which was scarcely +ever to grow clearer. Each holiday he found his father more irritable, and a little weaker. Mrs. Elliot was quickly growing old. She had to manage the servants, to hush the neighbouring children, to answer the correspondence, to paper -and re-paper the rooms--and all for the sake of a man whom she did not +and re-paper the rooms—and all for the sake of a man whom she did not like, and who did not conceal his dislike for her. One day she found Rickie tearful, and said rather crossly, “Well, what is it this time?” -He replied, “Oh, mummy, I’ve seen your wrinkles your grey hair--I’m +He replied, “Oh, mummy, I’ve seen your wrinkles—your grey hair—I’m unhappy.” -Sudden tenderness overcame her, and she cried, “My darling, what does it -matter? Whatever does it matter now?” +Sudden tenderness overcame her, and she cried, “My darling, what does +it matter? Whatever does it matter now?” He had never known her so emotional. Yet even better did he remember another incident. Hearing high voices from his father’s room, he went @@ -1018,16 +1036,18 @@ At last he died. Rickie was now fifteen, and got off a whole week’s school for the funeral. His mother was rather strange. She was much happier, she looked younger, and her mourning was as unobtrusive as convention permitted. All this he had expected. But she seemed to -be watching him, and to be extremely anxious for his opinion on any, -subject--more especially on his father. Why? At last he saw that she was -trying to establish confidence between them. But confidence cannot be -established in a moment. They were both shy. The habit of years was -upon them, and they alluded to the death of Mr. Elliot as an irreparable -loss. +be watching him, and to be extremely anxious for his opinion on any +subject—more especially on his father. Why? At last he saw that she +was trying to establish confidence between them. But confidence cannot +be established in a moment. They were both shy. The habit of years +was upon them, and they alluded to the death of Mr. Elliot as an +irreparable loss. “Now that your father has gone, things will be very different.” -“Shall we be poorer, mother?” No. +“Shall we be poorer, mother?” + +“No.” “Oh!” @@ -1045,11 +1065,11 @@ to being consulted, and it bewildered him. He giggled. -“It’s a little difficult for me,” said Mrs. Elliot, pacing vigorously up -and down the room, and more and more did her black dress seem a mockery. -“In some ways you ought to be consulted: nearly all the money is left to -you, as you must hear some time or other. But in other ways you’re only -a boy. What am I to do?” +“It’s a little difficult for me,” said Mrs. Elliot, pacing vigorously +up and down the room, and more and more did her black dress seem a +mockery. “In some ways you ought to be consulted: nearly all the money +is left to you, as you must hear some time or other. But in other ways +you’re only a boy. What am I to do?” “I don’t know,” he replied, appearing more helpless and unhelpful than he really was. @@ -1066,7 +1086,7 @@ lovingly, as though she would mould him into something beautiful. For the next few days great preparations were in the air. She went to see his father’s sister, the gifted and vivacious Aunt Emily. They were -to live in the country--somewhere right in the country, with grass and +to live in the country—somewhere right in the country, with grass and trees up to the door, and birds singing everywhere, and a tutor. For he was not to go back to school. Unbelievable! He was never to go back to school, and the head-master had written saying that he regretted the @@ -1093,6 +1113,8 @@ catch cold, but while he was out his mother died. She only survived her husband eleven days, a coincidence which was recorded on their tombstone. + • • • • • + Such, in substance, was the story which Rickie told his friends as they stood together in the shelter of the dell. The green bank at the entrance hid the road and the world, and now, as in spring, they could @@ -1106,33 +1128,35 @@ of it without tears. + III -Mr. Ansell, a provincial draper of moderate prosperity, ought by rights -to have been classed not with the cow, but with those phenomena that are -not really there. But his son, with pardonable illogicality, excepted -him. He never suspected that his father might be the subjective product -of a diseased imagination. From his earliest years he had taken him for -granted, as a most undeniable and lovable fact. To be born one thing and -grow up another--Ansell had accomplished this without weakening one -of the ties that bound him to his home. The rooms above the shop still -seemed as comfortable, the garden behind it as gracious, as they -had seemed fifteen years before, when he would sit behind Miss -Appleblossom’s central throne, and she, like some allegorical figure, -would send the change and receipted bills spinning away from her in -little boxwood balls. At first the young man had attributed these happy -relations to his own tact. But in time he perceived that the tact was -all on the side of his father. Mr. Ansell was not merely a man of some -education; he had what no education can bring--the power of detecting -what is important. Like many fathers, he had spared no expense over his -boy,--he had borrowed money to start him at a rapacious and fashionable -private school; he had sent him to tutors; he had sent him to Cambridge. -But he knew that all this was not the important thing. The important -thing was freedom. The boy must use his education as he chose, and if he -paid his father back it would certainly not be in his own coin. So when -Stewart said, “At Cambridge, can I read for the Moral Science Tripos?” - Mr. Ansell had only replied, “This philosophy--do you say that it lies -behind everything?” + +Mr. Ansell, a provincial draper of moderate prosperity, ought by +rights to have been classed not with the cow, but with those phenomena +that are not really there. But his son, with pardonable illogicality, +excepted him. He never suspected that his father might be the +subjective product of a diseased imagination. From his earliest years +he had taken him for granted, as a most undeniable and lovable fact. +To be born one thing and grow up another—Ansell had accomplished +this without weakening one of the ties that bound him to his home. +The rooms above the shop still seemed as comfortable, the garden +behind it as gracious, as they had seemed fifteen years before, when +he would sit behind Miss Appleblossom’s central throne, and she, like +some allegorical figure, would send the change and receipted bills +spinning away from her in little boxwood balls. At first the young man +had attributed these happy relations to his own tact. But in time he +perceived that the tact was all on the side of his father. Mr. Ansell +was not merely a man of some education; he had what no education can +bring—the power of detecting what is important. Like many fathers, he +had spared no expense over his boy,—he had borrowed money to start +him at a rapacious and fashionable private school; he had sent him to +tutors; he had sent him to Cambridge. But he knew that all this was +not the important thing. The important thing was freedom. The boy must +use his education as he chose, and if he paid his father back it would +certainly not be in his own coin. So when Stewart said, “At Cambridge, +can I read for the Moral Science Tripos?” Mr. Ansell had only replied, +“This philosophy—do you say that it lies behind everything?” “Yes, I think so. It tries to discover what is good and true.” @@ -1144,47 +1168,47 @@ don’t feel justified.” “Why not?” “Because it brings in no return. I think I’m a great philosopher, but -then all philosophers think that, though they don’t dare to say so. But, -however great I am. I shan’t earn money. Perhaps I shan’t ever be able -to keep myself. I shan’t even get a good social position. You’ve only -to say one word, and I’ll work for the Civil Service. I’m good enough to -get in high.” +then all philosophers think that, though they don’t dare to say so. +But, however great I am, I shan’t earn money. Perhaps I shan’t ever be +able to keep myself. I shan’t even get a good social position. You’ve +only to say one word, and I’ll work for the Civil Service. I’m good +enough to get in high.” Mr. Ansell liked money and social position. But he knew that there is a more important thing, and replied, “You must take up this philosophy seriously, I think.” -“Another thing--there are the girls.” +“Another thing—there are the girls.” -“There is enough money now to get Mary and Maud as good husbands as they -deserve.” And Mary and Maud took the same view. It was in this plebeian -household that Rickie spent part of the Christmas vacation. His own -home, such as it was, was with the Silts, needy cousins of his father’s, -and combined to a peculiar degree the restrictions of hospitality with -the discomforts of a boarding-house. Such pleasure as he had outside -Cambridge was in the homes of his friends, and it was a particular joy -and honour to visit Ansell, who, though as free from social snobbishness -as most of us will ever manage to be, was rather careful when he drove -up to the facade of his shop. +“There is enough money now to get Mary and Maud as good husbands as +they deserve.” And Mary and Maud took the same view. It was in this +plebeian household that Rickie spent part of the Christmas vacation. +His own home, such as it was, was with the Silts, needy cousins of +his father’s, and combined to a peculiar degree the restrictions of +hospitality with the discomforts of a boarding-house. Such pleasure as +he had outside Cambridge was in the homes of his friends, and it was +a particular joy and honour to visit Ansell, who, though as free from +social snobbishness as most of us will ever manage to be, was rather +careful when he drove up to the facade of his shop. “I like our new lettering,” he said thoughtfully. The words “Stewart -Ansell” were repeated again and again along the High Street--curly gold +Ansell” were repeated again and again along the High Street—curly gold letters that seemed to float in tanks of glazed chocolate. “Rather!” said Rickie. But he wondered whether one of the bonds that kept the Ansell family united might not be their complete absence of -taste--a surer bond by far than the identity of it. And he wondered this -again when he sat at tea opposite a long row of crayons--Stewart as a -baby, Stewart as a small boy with large feet, Stewart as a larger boy -with smaller feet, Mary reading a book whose leaves were as thick as -eiderdowns. And yet again did he wonder it when he woke with a gasp in -the night to find a harp in luminous paint throbbing and glowering at -him from the adjacent wall. “Watch and pray” was written on the harp, -and until Rickie hung a towel over it the exhortation was partially -successful. - -It was a very happy visit. Miss Appleblosssom--who now acted as -housekeeper--had met him before, during her never-forgotten expedition +taste—a surer bond by far than the identity of it. And he wondered +this again when he sat at tea opposite a long row of crayons—Stewart +as a baby, Stewart as a small boy with large feet, Stewart as a larger +boy with smaller feet, Mary reading a book whose leaves were as thick +as eiderdowns. And yet again did he wonder it when he woke with a +gasp in the night to find a harp in luminous paint throbbing and +glowering at him from the adjacent wall. “Watch and pray” was written +on the harp, and until Rickie hung a towel over it the exhortation was +partially successful. + +It was a very happy visit. Miss Appleblosssom—who now acted as +housekeeper—had met him before, during her never-forgotten expedition to Cambridge, and her admiration of University life was as shrill and as genuine now as it had been then. The girls at first were a little aggressive, for on his arrival he had been tired, and Maud had taken it @@ -1201,7 +1225,7 @@ my money was alive.” “I don’t understand.” “Mine’s dead money. It’s come to me through about six dead -people--silently.” +people—silently.” “Getting a little smaller and a little more respectable each time, on account of the death-duties.” @@ -1218,14 +1242,14 @@ your soapiness towards the living.” “You’d be relentless if you’d heard the Silts, as I have, talk about ‘a fortune, small perhaps, but unsoiled by trade!’ Of course Aunt Emily is -rather different. Oh, goodness me! I’ve forgotten my aunt. She lives not -so far. I shall have to call on her.” +rather different. Oh, goodness me! I’ve forgotten my aunt. She lives +not so far. I shall have to call on her.” -Accordingly he wrote to Mrs. Failing, and said he should like to pay his -respects. He told her about the Ansells, and so worded the letter that -she might reasonably have sent an invitation to his friend. +Accordingly he wrote to Mrs. Failing, and said he should like to pay +his respects. He told her about the Ansells, and so worded the letter +that she might reasonably have sent an invitation to his friend. -She replied that she was looking forward to their tete-a-tete. +She replied that she was looking forward to their _tête-à-tête_. “You mustn’t go round by the trains,” said Mr. Ansell. “It means changing at Salisbury. By the road it’s no great way. Stewart shall @@ -1242,48 +1266,50 @@ Cadover. But Rickie went round by the trains. general feeling that you are no nuisance, and had better stop till the end of the vac.” -This he could not do. He was bound for Christmas to the Silts--“as a -REAL guest,” Mrs. Silt had written, underlining the word “real” twice. -And after Christmas he must go to the Pembrokes. +This he could not do. He was bound for Christmas to the Silts—“as a +_real_ guest,” Mrs. Silt had written, underlining the word “real” +twice. And after Christmas he must go to the Pembrokes. -“These are no reasons. The only real reason for doing a thing is because -you want to do it. I think the talk about ‘engagements’ is cant.” +“These are no reasons. The only real reason for doing a thing is +because you want to do it. I think the talk about ‘engagements’ is +cant.” “I think perhaps it is,” said Rickie. But he went. Never had the turkey been so athletic, or the plum-pudding tied into its cloth so tightly. Yet he knew that both these symbols of hilarity had cost money, and it went to his heart when Mr. Silt said in a hungry voice, “Have you thought at all of what you want to be? No? Well, why should you? You -have no need to be anything.” And at dessert: “I wonder who Cadover goes -to? I expect money will follow money. It always does.” It was with a -guilty feeling of relief that he left for the Pembrokes’. +have no need to be anything.” And at dessert: “I wonder who Cadover +goes to? I expect money will follow money. It always does.” It was with +a guilty feeling of relief that he left for the Pembrokes’. -The Pembrokes lived in an adjacent suburb, or rather “sububurb,”--the +The Pembrokes lived in an adjacent suburb, or rather “sububurb,”—the tract called Sawston, celebrated for its public school. Their style of life, however, was not particularly suburban. Their house was small and -its name was Shelthorpe, but it had an air about it which suggested a -certain amount of money and a certain amount of taste. There were decent -water-colours in the drawing-room. Madonnas of acknowledged merit hung -upon the stairs. A replica of the Hermes of Praxiteles--of course only -the bust--stood in the hall with a real palm behind it. Agnes, in her -slap-dash way, was a good housekeeper, and kept the pretty things well -dusted. It was she who insisted on the strip of brown holland that led -diagonally from the front door to the door of Herbert’s study: boys’ -grubby feet should not go treading on her Indian square. It was she who -always cleaned the picture-frames and washed the bust and the leaves of -the palm. In short, if a house could speak--and sometimes it does speak -more clearly than the people who live in it--the house of the Pembrokes -would have said, “I am not quite like other houses, yet I am perfectly -comfortable. I contain works of art and a microscope and books. But I do -not live for any of these things or suffer them to disarrange me. I live -for myself and for the greater houses that shall come after me. Yet in -me neither the cry of money nor the cry for money shall ever be heard.” +its name was Shelthorpe, but it had an air about it which suggested +a certain amount of money and a certain amount of taste. There were +decent water-colours in the drawing-room. Madonnas of acknowledged +merit hung upon the stairs. A replica of the Hermes of Praxiteles—of +course only the bust—stood in the hall with a real palm behind it. +Agnes, in her slap-dash way, was a good housekeeper, and kept the +pretty things well dusted. It was she who insisted on the strip of +brown holland that led diagonally from the front door to the door of +Herbert’s study: boys’ grubby feet should not go treading on her Indian +square. It was she who always cleaned the picture-frames and washed the +bust and the leaves of the palm. In short, if a house could speak—and +sometimes it does speak more clearly than the people who live in +it—the house of the Pembrokes would have said, “I am not quite like +other houses, yet I am perfectly comfortable. I contain works of art +and a microscope and books. But I do not live for any of these things +or suffer them to disarrange me. I live for myself and for the greater +houses that shall come after me. Yet in me neither the cry of money nor +the cry for money shall ever be heard.” Mr. Pembroke was at the station. He did better as a host than as a guest, and welcomed the young man with real friendliness. -“We were all coming, but Gerald has strained his ankle slightly, -and wants to keep quiet, as he is playing next week in a match. And, +“We were all coming, but Gerald has strained his ankle slightly, and +wants to keep quiet, as he is playing next week in a match. And, needless to say, that explains the absence of my sister.” “Gerald Dawes?” @@ -1300,25 +1326,25 @@ Vivid also was Rickie’s remembrance of him. “I hope that Agnes is well.” -“Thank you, yes; she is well. And I think you’re looking more like other -people yourself.” +“Thank you, yes; she is well. And I think you’re looking more like +other people yourself.” “I’ve been having a very good time with a friend.” “Indeed. That’s right. Who was that?” Rickie had a young man’s reticence. He generally spoke of “a friend,” - “a person I know,” “a place I was at.” When the book of life is opening, -our readings are secret, and we are unwilling to give chapter and verse. -Mr. Pembroke, who was half way through the volume, and had skipped or -forgotten the earlier pages, could not understand Rickie’s hesitation, -nor why with such awkwardness he should pronounce the harmless -dissyllable “Ansell.” +“a person I know,” “a place I was at.” When the book of life is +opening, our readings are secret, and we are unwilling to give chapter +and verse. Mr. Pembroke, who was half way through the volume, and had +skipped or forgotten the earlier pages, could not understand Rickie’s +hesitation, nor why with such awkwardness he should pronounce the +harmless dissyllable “Ansell.” “Ansell? Wasn’t that the pleasant fellow who asked us to lunch?” -“No. That was Anderson, who keeps below. You didn’t see Ansell. The ones -who came to breakfast were Tilliard and Hornblower.” +“No. That was Anderson, who keeps below. You didn’t see Ansell. The +ones who came to breakfast were Tilliard and Hornblower.” “Of course. And since then you have been with the Silts. How are they?” @@ -1328,10 +1354,11 @@ The Pembrokes had formerly lived near the Elliots, and had shown great kindness to Rickie when his parents died. They were thus rather in the position of family friends. -“Please remember us when you write.” He added, almost roguishly, “The -Silts are kindness itself. All the same, it must be just a little--dull, -we thought, and we thought that you might like a change. And of course -we are delighted to have you besides. That goes without saying.” +“Please remember us when you write.” He added, almost roguishly, +“The Silts are kindness itself. All the same, it must be just a +little—dull, we thought, and we thought that you might like a change. +And of course we are delighted to have you besides. That goes without +saying.” “It’s very good of you,” said Rickie, who had accepted the invitation because he felt he ought to. @@ -1343,9 +1370,9 @@ Gerald a splendid fellow.” “Will they be married soon?” “Oh no!” whispered Mr. Pembroke, shutting his eyes, as if Rickie had -made some terrible faux pas. “It will be a very long engagement. He must -make his way first. I have seen such endless misery result from people -marrying before they have made their way.” +made some terrible _faux pas_. “It will be a very long engagement. He +must make his way first. I have seen such endless misery result from +people marrying before they have made their way.” “Yes. That is so,” said Rickie despondently, thinking of the Silts. @@ -1356,14 +1383,14 @@ been a little pill.” Their cab lurched round the corner as he spoke, and the two patients came in sight. Agnes was leaning over the creosoted garden-gate, and -behind her there stood a young man who had the figure of a Greek athlete -and the face of an English one. He was fair and cleanshaven, and his -colourless hair was cut rather short. The sun was in his eyes, and they, -like his mouth, seemed scarcely more than slits in his healthy skin. -Just where he began to be beautiful the clothes started. Round his neck -went an up-and-down collar and a mauve-and-gold tie, and the rest of his -limbs were hidden by a grey lounge suit, carefully creased in the right -places. +behind her there stood a young man who had the figure of a Greek +athlete and the face of an English one. He was fair and cleanshaven, +and his colourless hair was cut rather short. The sun was in his eyes, +and they, like his mouth, seemed scarcely more than slits in his +healthy skin. Just where he began to be beautiful the clothes started. +Round his neck went an up-and-down collar and a mauve-and-gold tie, +and the rest of his limbs were hidden by a grey lounge suit, carefully +creased in the right places. “Lovely! Lovely!” cried Agnes, banging on the gate, “Your train must have been to the minute.” @@ -1375,15 +1402,15 @@ no pipe was visible. “Hullo!” returned Rickie, laughing violently. They shook hands. “Where are you going, Rickie?” asked Agnes. “You aren’t grubby. Why -don’t you stop? Gerald, get the large wicker-chair. Herbert has letters, -but we can sit here till lunch. It’s like spring.” +don’t you stop? Gerald, get the large wicker-chair. Herbert has +letters, but we can sit here till lunch. It’s like spring.” -The garden of Shelthorpe was nearly all in front an unusual and pleasant -arrangement. The front gate and the servants’ entrance were both at the -side, and in the remaining space the gardener had contrived a little -lawn where one could sit concealed from the road by a fence, from the -neighbour by a fence, from the house by a tree, and from the path by a -bush. +The garden of Shelthorpe was nearly all in front an unusual and +pleasant arrangement. The front gate and the servants’ entrance were +both at the side, and in the remaining space the gardener had contrived +a little lawn where one could sit concealed from the road by a fence, +from the neighbour by a fence, from the house by a tree, and from the +path by a bush. “This is the lovers’ bower,” observed Agnes, sitting down on the bench. Rickie stood by her till the chair arrived. @@ -1412,9 +1439,9 @@ Rickie told him. “Yes.” -Mr. Dawes seemed offended. He tapped on his teeth, and remarked that the -weather bad no business to be so warm in winter. “But it was fiendish -before Christmas,” said Agnes. +Mr. Dawes seemed offended. He tapped on his teeth, and remarked that +the weather had no business to be so warm in winter. “But it was +fiendish before Christmas,” said Agnes. He frowned, and asked, “Do you know a man called Gerrish?” @@ -1428,9 +1455,9 @@ He frowned, and asked, “Do you know a man called Gerrish?” “He’s my year too. He got a blue for hockey his second term.” -“I know nothing about the ‘Varsity.” +“I know nothing about the ’Varsity.” -Rickie winced at the abbreviation “‘Varsity.” It was at that time the +Rickie winced at the abbreviation “’Varsity.” It was at that time the proper thing to speak of “the University.” “I haven’t the time,” pursued Mr. Dawes. @@ -1445,33 +1472,34 @@ thankful I didn’t!” “Puts you back in your profession. Men who go there first, before the Army, start hopelessly behind. The same with the Stock Exchange or Painting. I know men in both, and they’ve never caught up the time they -lost in the ‘Varsity--unless, of course, you turn parson.” +lost in the ’Varsity—unless, of course, you turn parson.” “I love Cambridge,” said she. “All those glorious buildings, and every one so happy and running in and out of each other’s rooms all day long.” “That might make an Undergrad happy, but I beg leave to state it wouldn’t me. I haven’t four years to throw away for the sake of being -called a ‘Varsity man and hobnobbing with Lords.” +called a ’Varsity man and hobnobbing with Lords.” Rickie was prepared to find his old schoolfellow ungrammatical and -bumptious, but he was not prepared to find him peevish. Athletes, he -believed, were simple, straightforward people, cruel and brutal if you -like, but never petty. They knocked you down and hurt you, and then went -on their way rejoicing. For this, Rickie thought, there is something to -be said: he had escaped the sin of despising the physically strong--a -sin against which the physically weak must guard. But here was Dawes -returning again and again to the subject of the University, full of -transparent jealousy and petty spite, nagging, nagging, nagging, like -a maiden lady who has not been invited to a tea-party. Rickie wondered -whether, after all, Ansell and the extremists might not be right, and -bodily beauty and strength be signs of the soul’s damnation. +bumptious, but he was not prepared to find him peevish. Athletes, +he believed, were simple, straightforward people, cruel and brutal +if you like, but never petty. They knocked you down and hurt you, +and then went on their way rejoicing. For this, Rickie thought, +there is something to be said: he had escaped the sin of despising +the physically strong—a sin against which the physically weak must +guard. But here was Dawes returning again and again to the subject +of the University, full of transparent jealousy and petty spite, +nagging, nagging, nagging, like a maiden lady who has not been invited +to a tea-party. Rickie wondered whether, after all, Ansell and the +extremists might not be right, and bodily beauty and strength be signs +of the soul’s damnation. He glanced at Agnes. She was writing down some orderings for the tradespeople on a piece of paper. Her handsome face was intent on the -work. The bench on which she and Gerald were sitting had no back, but -she sat as straight as a dart. He, though strong enough to sit straight, -did not take the trouble. +work. The bench on which she and Gerald were sitting had no back, +but she sat as straight as a dart. He, though strong enough to sit +straight, did not take the trouble. “Why don’t they talk to each other?” thought Rickie. @@ -1498,26 +1526,28 @@ He disappeared slowly behind the tree. She might have seen a flash of horror pass over Rickie’s face. The horror disappeared, for, thank God, he was now a man, whom civilization protects. But he and Gerald had met, as it were, behind the scenes, -before our decorous drama opens, and there the elder boy had done things -to him--absurd things, not worth chronicling separately. An apple-pie -bed is nothing; pinches, kicks, boxed ears, twisted arms, pulled hair, -ghosts at night, inky books, befouled photographs, amount to very little -by themselves. But let them be united and continuous, and you have a -hell that no grown-up devil can devise. Between Rickie and Gerald there -lay a shadow that darkens life more often than we suppose. The bully and -his victim never quite forget their first relations. They meet in clubs -and country houses, and clap one another on the back; but in both the -memory is green of a more strenuous day, when they were boys together. +before our decorous drama opens, and there the elder boy had done +things to him—absurd things, not worth chronicling separately. An +apple-pie bed is nothing; pinches, kicks, boxed ears, twisted arms, +pulled hair, ghosts at night, inky books, befouled photographs, amount +to very little by themselves. But let them be united and continuous, +and you have a hell that no grown-up devil can devise. Between Rickie +and Gerald there lay a shadow that darkens life more often than we +suppose. The bully and his victim never quite forget their first +relations. They meet in clubs and country houses, and clap one another +on the back; but in both the memory is green of a more strenuous day, +when they were boys together. He tried to say, “He was the right kind of boy, and I was the wrong -kind.” But Cambridge would not let him smooth the situation over by -self-belittlement. If he had been the wrong kind of boy, Gerald had been -a worse kind. He murmured, “We are different, very,” and Miss Pembroke, -perhaps suspecting something, asked no more. But she kept to the subject -of Mr. Dawes, humorously depreciating her lover and discussing him -without reverence. Rickie laughed, but felt uncomfortable. When people -were engaged, he felt that they should be outside criticism. Yet here he -was criticizing. He could not help it. He was dragged in. +kind.” But Cambridge would not let him smooth the situation over +by self-belittlement. If he had been the wrong kind of boy, Gerald +had been a worse kind. He murmured, “We are different, very,” and +Miss Pembroke, perhaps suspecting something, asked no more. But +she kept to the subject of Mr. Dawes, humorously depreciating her +lover and discussing him without reverence. Rickie laughed, but felt +uncomfortable. When people were engaged, he felt that they should be +outside criticism. Yet here he was criticizing. He could not help it. +He was dragged in. “I hope his ankle is better.” @@ -1536,8 +1566,8 @@ It was all very colourless and odd. Gerald returned, saying, “I can’t stand your cook. What’s she want to ask me questions for? I can’t stand talking to servants. I say, ‘If I -speak to you, well and good’--and it’s another thing besides if she were -pretty.” +speak to you, well and good’—and it’s another thing besides if she +were pretty.” “Well, I hope our ugly cook will have lunch ready in a minute,” said Agnes. “We’re frightfully unpunctual this morning, and I daren’t say @@ -1547,15 +1577,14 @@ they might leave. Poor Rickie must be starved.” “Why, the Silts gave me all these sandwiches and I’ve never eaten them. They always stuff one.” -“And you thought you’d better, eh?” said Mr. Dawes, “in case you weren’t -stuffed here.” +“And you thought you’d better, eh?” said Mr. Dawes, “in case you +weren’t stuffed here.” Miss Pembroke, who house-kept somewhat economically, looked annoyed. The voice of Mr. Pembroke was now heard calling from the house, “Frederick! Frederick! My dear boy, pardon me. It was an important -letter about the Church Defence, otherwise--. Come in and see your -room.” +letter about the Church Defence, otherwise— Come in and see your room.” He was glad to quit the little lawn. He had learnt too much there. It was dreadful: they did not love each other. More dreadful even than the @@ -1571,9 +1600,9 @@ He had forgotten his sandwiches, and went back to get them. Gerald and Agnes were locked in each other’s arms. He only looked for a moment, but the sight burnt into his brain. The -man’s grip was the stronger. He had drawn the woman on to his knee, -was pressing her, with all his strength, against him. Already her hands -slipped off him, and she whispered, “Don’t you hurt--” Her face had no +man’s grip was the stronger. He had drawn the woman on to his knee, was +pressing her, with all his strength, against him. Already her hands +slipped off him, and she whispered, “Don’t you hurt—” Her face had no expression. It stared at the intruder and never saw him. Then her lover kissed it, and immediately it shone with mysterious beauty, like some star. @@ -1586,8 +1615,8 @@ While Mr. Pembroke talked, the riot of fair images increased. They invaded his being and lit lamps at unsuspected shrines. Their orchestra commenced in that suburban house, where he had to stand aside -for the maid to carry in the luncheon. Music flowed past him like -a river. He stood at the springs of creation and heard the primeval +for the maid to carry in the luncheon. Music flowed past him like a +river. He stood at the springs of creation and heard the primeval monotony. Then an obscure instrument gave out a little phrase. The river continued unheeding. The phrase was repeated and a listener @@ -1598,20 +1627,20 @@ flame of the flame, flushing the dark river beneath him and the virgin snows above. His wings were infinite, his youth eternal; the sun was a jewel on his finger as he passed it in benediction over the world. Creation, no longer monotonous, acclaimed him, in widening melody, in -brighter radiances. Was Love a column of fire? Was he a torrent of song? -Was he greater than either--the touch of a man on a woman? +brighter radiances. Was Love a column of fire? Was he a torrent of +song? Was he greater than either—the touch of a man on a woman? It was the merest accident that Rickie had not been disgusted. But this he could not know. -Mr. Pembroke, when he called the two dawdlers into lunch, was aware of a -hand on his arm and a voice that murmured, “Don’t--they may be happy.” +Mr. Pembroke, when he called the two dawdlers into lunch, was aware of +a hand on his arm and a voice that murmured, “Don’t—they may be happy.” -He stared, and struck the gong. To its music they approached, priest and -high priestess. +He stared, and struck the gong. To its music they approached, priest +and high priestess. -“Rickie, can I give these sandwiches to the boot boy?” said the one. “He -would love them.” +“Rickie, can I give these sandwiches to the boot boy?” said the one. +“He would love them.” “The gong! Be quick! The gong!” @@ -1629,8 +1658,8 @@ in the spirit, upon their bliss? It was no crime to have seen them on the lawn. It would be a crime to go to it again. He tried to keep himself and his thoughts away, not because he was ascetic, but because they would not like it if they knew. This behaviour of his suited them -admirably. And when any gracious little thing occurred to them--any -little thing that his sympathy had contrived and allowed--they put it +admirably. And when any gracious little thing occurred to them—any +little thing that his sympathy had contrived and allowed—they put it down to chance or to each other. So the lovers fall into the background. They are part of the distant @@ -1639,46 +1668,48 @@ Pembroke, amidst the unlit valleys of our over-habitable world. + IV + Sawston School had been founded by a tradesman in the seventeenth -century. It was then a tiny grammar-school in a tiny town, and the City -Company who governed it had to drive half a day through the woods and -heath on the occasion of their annual visit. In the twentieth century -they still drove, but only from the railway station; and found -themselves not in a tiny town, nor yet in a large one, but amongst -innumerable residences, detached and semi-detached, which had gathered -round the school. For the intentions of the founder had been altered, or -at all events amplified, instead of educating the “poore of my home,” - he now educated the upper classes of England. The change had taken place -not so very far back. Till the nineteenth century the grammar-school was -still composed of day scholars from the neighbourhood. Then two things -happened. Firstly, the school’s property rose in value, and it became -rich. Secondly, for no obvious reason, it suddenly emitted a quantity -of bishops. The bishops, like the stars from a Roman candle, were -all colours, and flew in all directions, some high, some low, some to -distant colonies, one into the Church of Rome. But many a father traced -their course in the papers; many a mother wondered whether her son, if -properly ignited, might not burn as bright; many a family moved to the -place where living and education were so cheap, where day-boys were not -looked down upon, and where the orthodox and the up-to-date were said to -be combined. The school doubled its numbers. It built new class-rooms, -laboratories and a gymnasium. It dropped the prefix “Grammar.” It coaxed -the sons of the local tradesmen into a new foundation, the “Commercial -School,” built a couple of miles away. And it started boarding-houses. -It had not the gracious antiquity of Eton or Winchester, nor, on the -other hand, had it a conscious policy like Lancing, Wellington, and -other purely modern foundations. Where tradition served, it clung to -them. Where new departures seemed desirable, they were made. It aimed -at producing the average Englishman, and, to a very great extent, it -succeeded. +century. It was then a tiny grammar-school in a tiny town, and the +City Company who governed it had to drive half a day through the woods +and heath on the occasion of their annual visit. In the twentieth +century they still drove, but only from the railway station; and +found themselves not in a tiny town, nor yet in a large one, but +amongst innumerable residences, detached and semi-detached, which +had gathered round the school. For the intentions of the founder had +been altered, or at all events amplified, instead of educating the +“poore of my home,” he now educated the upper classes of England. +The change had taken place not so very far back. Till the nineteenth +century the grammar-school was still composed of day scholars from the +neighbourhood. Then two things happened. Firstly, the school’s property +rose in value, and it became rich. Secondly, for no obvious reason, it +suddenly emitted a quantity of bishops. The bishops, like the stars +from a Roman candle, were all colours, and flew in all directions, +some high, some low, some to distant colonies, one into the Church +of Rome. But many a father traced their course in the papers; many a +mother wondered whether her son, if properly ignited, might not burn +as bright; many a family moved to the place where living and education +were so cheap, where day-boys were not looked down upon, and where +the orthodox and the up-to-date were said to be combined. The school +doubled its numbers. It built new class-rooms, laboratories and a +gymnasium. It dropped the prefix “Grammar.” It coaxed the sons of the +local tradesmen into a new foundation, the “Commercial School,” built +a couple of miles away. And it started boarding-houses. It had not the +gracious antiquity of Eton or Winchester, nor, on the other hand, had +it a conscious policy like Lancing, Wellington, and other purely modern +foundations. Where traditions served, it clung to them. Where new +departures seemed desirable, they were made. It aimed at producing the +average Englishman, and, to a very great extent, it succeeded. Here Mr. Pembroke passed his happy and industrious life. His technical -position was that of master to a form low down on the Modern Side. But -his work lay elsewhere. He organized. If no organization existed, +position was that of master to a form low down on the Modern Side. +But his work lay elsewhere. He organized. If no organization existed, he would create one. If one did exist, he would modify it. “An -organization,” he would say, “is after all not an end in itself. It must -contribute to a movement.” When one good custom seemed likely to +organization,” he would say, “is after all not an end in itself. It +must contribute to a movement.” When one good custom seemed likely to corrupt the school, he was ready with another; he believed that without innumerable customs there was no safety, either for boys or men. @@ -1688,34 +1719,34 @@ attempted the service of perfect freedom. The school caps, with their elaborate symbolism, were his; his the many-tinted bathing-drawers, that showed how far a boy could swim; his the hierarchy of jerseys and blazers. It was he who instituted Bounds, and call, and the two sorts -of exercise-paper, and the three sorts of caning, and “The Sawtonian,” a -bi-terminal magazine. His plump finger was in every pie. The dome of +of exercise-paper, and the three sorts of caning, and “The Sawtonian,” +a bi-terminal magazine. His plump finger was in every pie. The dome of his skull, mild but impressive, shone at every master’s meeting. He was generally acknowledged to be the coming man. -His last achievement had been the organization of the day-boys. They had -been left too much to themselves, and were weak in esprit de corps; -they were apt to regard home, not school, as the most important thing -in their lives. Moreover, they got out of their parents’ hands; they did -their preparation any time and some times anyhow. They shirked games, -they were out at all hours, they ate what they should not, they smoked, -they bicycled on the asphalt. Now all was over. Like boarders, they -were to be in at 7:15 P.M., and were not allowed out after unless with -a written order from their parent or guardian; they, too, must work at -fixed hours in the evening, and before breakfast next morning from 7 to -8. Games were compulsory. They must not go to parties in term time. -They must keep to bounds. Of course the reform was not complete. It -was impossible to control the dieting, though, on a printed circular, -day-parents were implored to provide simple food. And it is also -believed that some mothers disobeyed the rule about preparation, and -allowed their sons to do all the work over-night and have a longer +His last achievement had been the organization of the day-boys. They +had been left too much to themselves, and were weak in _esprit de +corps_; they were apt to regard home, not school, as the most important +thing in their lives. Moreover, they got out of their parents’ hands; +they did their preparation any time and some times anyhow. They shirked +games, they were out at all hours, they ate what they should not, they +smoked, they bicycled on the asphalt. Now all was over. Like boarders, +they were to be in at 7:15 P.M., and were not allowed out after unless +with a written order from their parent or guardian; they, too, must +work at fixed hours in the evening, and before breakfast next morning +from 7 to 8. Games were compulsory. They must not go to parties in term +time. They must keep to bounds. Of course the reform was not complete. +It was impossible to control the dieting, though, on a printed +circular, day-parents were implored to provide simple food. And it is +also believed that some mothers disobeyed the rule about preparation, +and allowed their sons to do all the work over-night and have a longer sleep in the morning. But the gulf between day-boys and boarders was considerably lessened, and grew still narrower when the day-boys too were organized into a House with house-master and colours of their own. “Through the House,” said Mr. Pembroke, “one learns patriotism for the school, just as through the school one learns patriotism for the -country. Our only course, therefore, is to organize the day-boys into -a House.” The headmaster agreed, as he often did, and the new community +country. Our only course, therefore, is to organize the day-boys into a +House.” The headmaster agreed, as he often did, and the new community was formed. Mr. Pembroke, to avoid the tongues of malice, had refused the post of house-master for himself, saying to Mr. Jackson, who taught the sixth, “You keep too much in the background. Here is a chance for @@ -1727,14 +1758,14 @@ background, and next term Mr. Pembroke was to take his place. Such were the themes on which Mr. Pembroke discoursed to Rickie’s civil ear. He showed him the school, and the library, and the subterranean -hall where the day-boys might leave their coats and caps, and where, on -festal occasions, they supped. He showed him Mr. Jackson’s pretty house, -and whispered, “Were it not for his brilliant intellect, it would be a -case of Quickmarch!” He showed him the racquet-court, happily completed, -and the chapel, unhappily still in need of funds. Rickie was impressed, -but then he was impressed by everything. Of course a House of day-boys -seemed a little shadowy after Agnes and Gerald, but he imparted some -reality even to that. +hall where the day-boys might leave their coats and caps, and where, +on festal occasions, they supped. He showed him Mr. Jackson’s pretty +house, and whispered, “Were it not for his brilliant intellect, it +would be a case of Quickmarch!” He showed him the racquet-court, +happily completed, and the chapel, unhappily still in need of funds. +Rickie was impressed, but then he was impressed by everything. Of +course a House of day-boys seemed a little shadowy after Agnes and +Gerald, but he imparted some reality even to that. “The racquet-court,” said Mr. Pembroke, “is most gratifying. We never expected to manage it this year. But before the Easter holidays every @@ -1742,17 +1773,17 @@ boy received a subscription card, and was given to understand that he must collect thirty shillings. You will scarcely believe me, but they nearly all responded. Next term there was a dinner in the great school, and all who had collected, not thirty shillings, but as much as a -pound, were invited to it--for naturally one was not precise for a few -shillings, the response being the really valuable thing. Practically the -whole school had to come.” +pound, were invited to it—for naturally one was not precise for a few +shillings, the response being the really valuable thing. Practically +the whole school had to come.” “They must enjoy the court tremendously.” -“Ah, it isn’t used very much. Racquets, as I daresay you know, is rather -an expensive game. Only the wealthier boys play--and I’m sorry to say -that it is not of our wealthier boys that we are always the proudest. -But the point is that no public school can be called first-class until -it has one. They are building them right and left.” +“Ah, it isn’t used very much. Racquets, as I daresay you know, is +rather an expensive game. Only the wealthier boys play—and I’m +sorry to say that it is not of our wealthier boys that we are always +the proudest. But the point is that no public school can be called +first-class until it has one. They are building them right and left.” “And now you must finish the chapel?” @@ -1773,40 +1804,41 @@ sure, than the Italians, though they did get closer to beauty. Greater than the French, though we do take all their ideas. I can’t help thinking that England is immense. English literature certainly.” -Mr. Pembroke removed his hand. He found such patriotism somewhat craven. -Genuine patriotism comes only from the heart. It knows no parleying with -reason. English ladies will declare abroad that there are no fogs in -London, and Mr. Pembroke, though he would not go to this, was only -restrained by the certainty of being found out. On this occasion -he remarked that the Greeks lacked spiritual insight, and had a low -conception of woman. +Mr. Pembroke removed his hand. He found such patriotism somewhat +craven. Genuine patriotism comes only from the heart. It knows no +parleying with reason. English ladies will declare abroad that there +are no fogs in London, and Mr. Pembroke, though he would not go to +this, was only restrained by the certainty of being found out. On this +occasion he remarked that the Greeks lacked spiritual insight, and had +a low conception of woman. -“As to women--oh! there they were dreadful,” said Rickie, leaning his +“As to women—oh! there they were dreadful,” said Rickie, leaning his hand on the chapel. “I realize that more and more. But as to spiritual insight, I don’t quite like to say; and I find Plato too difficult, but I know men who don’t, and I fancy they mightn’t agree with you.” “Far be it from me to disparage Plato. And for philosophy as a whole I have the greatest respect. But it is the crown of a man’s education, -not the foundation. Myself, I read it with the utmost profit, but I have -known endless trouble result from boys who attempt it too soon, before -they were set.” +not the foundation. Myself, I read it with the utmost profit, but I +have known endless trouble result from boys who attempt it too soon, +before they were set.” “But if those boys had died first,” cried Rickie with sudden vehemence, -“without knowing what there is to know--” +“without knowing what there is to know—” “Or isn’t to know!” said Mr. Pembroke sarcastically. “Or what there isn’t to know. Exactly. That’s it.” -“My dear Rickie, what do you mean? If an old friend may be frank, you -are talking great rubbish.” And, with a few well-worn formulae, he -propped up the young man’s orthodoxy. The props were unnecessary. Rickie -had his own equilibrium. Neither the Revivalism that assails a boy at -about the age of fifteen, nor the scepticism that meets him five years -later, could sway him from his allegiance to the church into which he -had been born. But his equilibrium was personal, and the secret of it -useless to others. He desired that each man should find his own. +“My dear Rickie, what do you mean? If an old friend may be frank, +you are talking great rubbish.” And, with a few well-worn formulae, +he propped up the young man’s orthodoxy. The props were unnecessary. +Rickie had his own equilibrium. Neither the Revivalism that assails +a boy at about the age of fifteen, nor the scepticism that meets him +five years later, could sway him from his allegiance to the church +into which he had been born. But his equilibrium was personal, and the +secret of it useless to others. He desired that each man should find +his own. “What does philosophy do?” the propper continued. “Does it make a man happier in life? Does it make him die more peacefully? I fancy that in @@ -1829,7 +1861,7 @@ both more competent to deal. naughty soldier had not carried her off, she might have made an ideal schoolmaster’s wife. I often chaff him about it, for he a little despises the intellectual professions. Natural, perfectly natural. How -can a man who faces death feel as we do towards mensa or tupto?” +can a man who faces death feel as we do towards _mensa_ or _tupto_?” “Perfectly true. Absolutely true.” @@ -1837,39 +1869,39 @@ Mr. Pembroke remarked to himself that Frederick was improving. “If a man shoots straight and hits straight and speaks straight, if his heart is in the right place, if he has the instincts of a Christian -and a gentleman--then I, at all events, ask no better husband for my +and a gentleman—then I, at all events, ask no better husband for my sister.” “How could you get a better?” he cried. “Do you remember the thing in ‘The Clouds’?” And he quoted, as well as he could, from the invitation -of the Dikaios Logos, the description of the young Athenian, perfect in -body, placid in mind, who neglects his work at the Bar and trains all -day among the woods and meadows, with a garland on his head and a friend -to set the pace; the scent of new leaves is upon them; they rejoice in -the freshness of spring; over their heads the plane-tree whispers to the -elm, perhaps the most glorious invitation to the brainless life that has -ever been given. +of the Dikaios Logos, the description of the young Athenian, perfect +in body, placid in mind, who neglects his work at the Bar and trains +all day among the woods and meadows, with a garland on his head and +a friend to set the pace; the scent of new leaves is upon them; they +rejoice in the freshness of spring; over their heads the plane-tree +whispers to the elm, perhaps the most glorious invitation to the +brainless life that has ever been given. “Yes, yes,” said Mr. Pembroke, who did not want a brother-in-law out of Aristophanes. Nor had he got one, for Mr. Dawes would not have bothered over the garland or noticed the spring, and would have complained that the friend ran too slowly or too fast. -“And as for her--!” But he could think of no classical parallel for -Agnes. She slipped between examples. A kindly Medea, a Cleopatra with a -sense of duty--these suggested her a little. She was not born in Greece, -but came overseas to it--a dark, intelligent princess. With all her -splendour, there were hints of splendour still hidden--hints of an +“And as for her—!” But he could think of no classical parallel for +Agnes. She slipped between examples. A kindly Medea, a Cleopatra with +a sense of duty—these suggested her a little. She was not born in +Greece, but came overseas to it—a dark, intelligent princess. With all +her splendour, there were hints of splendour still hidden—hints of an older, richer, and more mysterious land. He smiled at the idea of her -being “not there.” Ansell, clever as he was, had made a bad blunder. She -had more reality than any other woman in the world. +being “not there.” Ansell, clever as he was, had made a bad blunder. +She had more reality than any other woman in the world. -Mr. Pembroke looked pleased at this boyish enthusiasm. He was fond of -his sister, though he knew her to be full of faults. “Yes, I envy her,” - he said. “She has found a worthy helpmeet for life’s journey, I do -believe. And though they chafe at the long engagement, it is a blessing -in disguise. They learn to know each other thoroughly before contracting -more intimate ties.” +Mr. Pembroke looked pleased at this boyish enthusiasm. He was fond +of his sister, though he knew her to be full of faults. “Yes, I envy +her,” he said. “She has found a worthy helpmeet for life’s journey, +I do believe. And though they chafe at the long engagement, it is a +blessing in disguise. They learn to know each other thoroughly before +contracting more intimate ties.” Rickie did not assent. The length of the engagement seemed to him unspeakably cruel. Here were two people who loved each other, and they @@ -1877,27 +1909,28 @@ could not marry for years because they had no beastly money. Not all Herbert’s pious skill could make this out a blessing. It was bad enough being “so rich” at the Silts; here he was more ashamed of it than ever. In a few weeks he would come of age and his money be his own. What a -pity things were so crookedly arranged. He did not want money, or at all -events he did not want so much. - -“Suppose,” he meditated, for he became much worried over this,--“suppose -I had a hundred pounds a year less than I shall have. Well, I should -still have enough. I don’t want anything but food, lodging, clothes, -and now and then a railway fare. I haven’t any tastes. I don’t collect -anything or play games. Books are nice to have, but after all there is -Mudie’s, or if it comes to that, the Free Library. Oh, my profession! I -forgot I shall have a profession. Well, that will leave me with more to -spare than ever.” And he supposed away till he lost touch with the world -and with what it permits, and committed an unpardonable sin. - -It happened towards the end of his visit--another airless day of that +pity things were so crookedly arranged. He did not want money, or at +all events he did not want so much. + +“Suppose,” he meditated, for he became much worried over +this,—“suppose I had a hundred pounds a year less than I shall have. +Well, I should still have enough. I don’t want anything but food, +lodging, clothes, and now and then a railway fare. I haven’t any +tastes. I don’t collect anything or play games. Books are nice to +have, but after all there is Mudie’s, or if it comes to that, the Free +Library. Oh, my profession! I forgot I shall have a profession. Well, +that will leave me with more to spare than ever.” And he supposed +away till he lost touch with the world and with what it permits, and +committed an unpardonable sin. + +It happened towards the end of his visit—another airless day of that mild January. Mr. Dawes was playing against a scratch team of cads, and had to go down to the ground in the morning to settle something. Rickie proposed to come too. Hitherto he had been no nuisance. “You will be frightfully bored,” said -Agnes, observing the cloud on her lover’s face. “And Gerald walks like a -maniac.” +Agnes, observing the cloud on her lover’s face. “And Gerald walks like +a maniac.” “I had a little thought of the Museum this morning,” said Mr. Pembroke. “It is very strong in flint arrow-heads.” @@ -1929,20 +1962,20 @@ offered him money. “If it was, I’d forgive that. But I can’t stand unhealthiness.” -“Now, Gerald, that’s where I hate you. You don’t know what it is to pity -the weak.” +“Now, Gerald, that’s where I hate you. You don’t know what it is to +pity the weak.” “Woman’s job. So you wish I’d taken a hundred pounds a year from him. -Did you ever hear such blasted cheek? Marry us--he, you, and me--a -hundred pounds down and as much annual--he, of course, to pry into all +Did you ever hear such blasted cheek? Marry us—he, you, and me—a +hundred pounds down and as much annual—he, of course, to pry into all we did, and we to kowtow and eat dirt-pie to him. If that’s Mr. Rickety Elliot’s idea of a soldier and an Englishman, it isn’t mine, and I wish I’d had a horse-whip.” -She was roaring with laughter. “You’re babies, a pair of you, and you’re -the worst. Why couldn’t you let the little silly down gently? There he -was puffing and sniffing under my window, and I thought he’d insulted -you. Why didn’t you accept?” +She was roaring with laughter. “You’re babies, a pair of you, and +you’re the worst. Why couldn’t you let the little silly down gently? +There he was puffing and sniffing under my window, and I thought he’d +insulted you. Why didn’t you accept?” “Accept?” he thundered. @@ -1964,42 +1997,45 @@ Gerald repeated that he could not stand unhealthiness. “What do you mean?” He became shy. “I hadn’t meant to tell you. It’s not quite for a lady.” - For, like most men who are rather animal, he was intellectually a prude. -“He says he can’t ever marry, owing to his foot. It wouldn’t be fair to -posterity. His grandfather was crocked, his father too, and he’s as bad. -He thinks that it’s hereditary, and may get worse next generation. He’s -discussed it all over with other Undergrads. A bright lot they must be. -He daren’t risk having any children. Hence the hundred quid.” +For, like most men who are rather animal, he was intellectually a +prude. “He says he can’t ever marry, owing to his foot. It wouldn’t +be fair to posterity. His grandfather was crocked, his father too, +and he’s as bad. He thinks that it’s hereditary, and may get worse +next generation. He’s discussed it all over with other Undergrads. A +bright lot they must be. He daren’t risk having any children. Hence the +hundred quid.” She stopped laughing. “Oh, little beast, if he said all that!” He was encouraged to proceed. Hitherto he had not talked about their -school days. Now he told her everything,--the “barley-sugar,” as he +school days. Now he told her everything,—the “barley-sugar,” as he called it, the pins in chapel, and how one afternoon he had tied him -head-downward on to a tree trunk and then ran away--of course only for a -moment. +head-downward on to a tree trunk and then ran away—of course only for +a moment. For this she scolded him well. But she had a thrill of joy when she thought of the weak boy in the clutches of the strong one. + V + Gerald died that afternoon. He was broken up in the football match. -Rickie and Mr. Pembroke were on the ground when the accident took place. -It was no good torturing him by a drive to the hospital, and he was -merely carried to the little pavilion and laid upon the floor. A doctor -came, and so did a clergyman, but it seemed better to leave him for the -last few minutes with Agnes, who had ridden down on her bicycle. +Rickie and Mr. Pembroke were on the ground when the accident took +place. It was no good torturing him by a drive to the hospital, and he +was merely carried to the little pavilion and laid upon the floor. A +doctor came, and so did a clergyman, but it seemed better to leave him +for the last few minutes with Agnes, who had ridden down on her bicycle. It was a strange lamentable interview. The girl was so accustomed to -health, that for a time she could not understand. It must be a joke that -he chose to lie there in the dust, with a rug over him and his knees -bent up towards his chin. His arms were as she knew them, and their -admirable muscles showed clear and clean beneath the jersey. The face, -too, though a little flushed, was uninjured: it must be some curious -joke. +health, that for a time she could not understand. It must be a joke +that he chose to lie there in the dust, with a rug over him and his +knees bent up towards his chin. His arms were as she knew them, and +their admirable muscles showed clear and clean beneath the jersey. The +face, too, though a little flushed, was uninjured: it must be some +curious joke. “Gerald, what have you been doing?” @@ -2020,22 +2056,22 @@ This time she could not reply. “Wasn’t the rector here?” said she after a silence. -“He explained heaven, and thinks that I--but--I couldn’t tell a parson; +“He explained heaven, and thinks that I—but—I couldn’t tell a parson; but I don’t seem to have any use for any of the things there.” “We are Christians,” said Agnes shyly. “Dear love, we don’t talk about these things, but we believe them. I think that you will get well and -be as strong again as ever; but, in any case, there is a spiritual life, -and we know that some day you and I--” +be as strong again as ever; but, in any case, there is a spiritual +life, and we know that some day you and I—” “I shan’t do as a spirit,” he interrupted, sighing pitifully. “I want you as I am, and it cannot be managed. The rector had to say so. I -want--I don’t want to talk. I can’t see you. Shut that door.” +want—I don’t want to talk. I can’t see you. Shut that door.” She obeyed, and crept into his arms. Only this time her grasp was the -stronger. Her heart beat louder and louder as the sound of his grew more -faint. He was crying like a little frightened child, and her lips were -wet with his tears. “Bear it bravely,” she told him. +stronger. Her heart beat louder and louder as the sound of his grew +more faint. He was crying like a little frightened child, and her lips +were wet with his tears. “Bear it bravely,” she told him. “I can’t,” he whispered. “It isn’t to be done. I can’t see you,” and passed from her trembling with open eyes. @@ -2052,13 +2088,13 @@ seemed to make no comment now. The incident was outside nature, and would surely pass away like a dream. She felt slightly irritable, and the grief of the servants annoyed her. -They sobbed. “Ah, look at his marks! Ah, little he thought--little he +They sobbed. “Ah, look at his marks! Ah, little he thought—little he thought!” In the brown holland strip by the front door a heavy football boot had left its impress. They had not liked Gerald, but he was a man, they were women, he had died. Their mistress ordered them to leave her. -For many minutes she sat at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her eyes. An -obscure spiritual crisis was going on. +For many minutes she sat at the foot of the stairs, rubbing her eyes. +An obscure spiritual crisis was going on. Should she weep like the servants? Or should she bear up and trust in the consoler Time? Was the death of a man so terrible after all? As she @@ -2074,21 +2110,21 @@ people who are left alive!” From the bottom of her soul she hated him. He knelt beside her, and she said, “Would you please go away?” “Yes, dear Agnes, of course; but I must see first that you mind.” Her -breath caught. Her eves moved to the treads, going outwards, so firmly, +breath caught. Her eyes moved to the treads, going outwards, so firmly, so irretrievably. He panted, “It’s the worst thing that can ever happen to you in all -your life, and you’ve got to mind it you’ve got to mind it. They’ll come -saying, ‘Bear up trust to time.’ No, no; they’re wrong. Mind it.” +your life, and you’ve got to mind it—you’ve got to mind it. They’ll +come saying, ‘Bear up—trust to time.’ No, no; they’re wrong. Mind it.” Through all her misery she knew that this boy was greater than they supposed. He rose to his feet, and with intense conviction cried: “But -I know--I understand. It’s your death as well as his. He’s gone, Agnes, +I know—I understand. It’s your death as well as his. He’s gone, Agnes, and his arms will never hold you again. In God’s name, mind such a thing, and don’t sit fencing with your soul. Don’t stop being great; that’s the one crime he’ll never forgive you.” -She faltered, “Who--who forgives?” +She faltered, “Who—who forgives?” “Gerald.” @@ -2096,15 +2132,15 @@ At the sound of his name she slid forward, and all her dishonesty left her. She acknowledged that life’s meaning had vanished. Bending down, she kissed the footprint. “How can he forgive me?” she sobbed. “Where has he gone to? You could never dream such an awful thing. He couldn’t -see me though I opened the door--wide--plenty of light; and then he -could not remember the things that should comfort him. He wasn’t a--he +see me though I opened the door—wide—plenty of light; and then he +could not remember the things that should comfort him. He wasn’t a—he wasn’t ever a great reader, and he couldn’t remember the things. The -rector tried, and he couldn’t--I came, and I couldn’t--” She could not +rector tried, and he couldn’t—I came, and I couldn’t—” She could not speak for tears. Rickie did not check her. He let her accuse herself, and fate, and Herbert, who had postponed their marriage. She might have been a wife six months; but Herbert had spoken of self-control and of all life before them. He let her kiss the footprints till their marks -gave way to the marks of her lips. She moaned. “He is gone--where is +gave way to the marks of her lips. She moaned. “He is gone—where is he?” and then he replied quite quietly, “He is in heaven.” She begged him not to comfort her; she could not bear it. @@ -2112,28 +2148,30 @@ She begged him not to comfort her; she could not bear it. “I did not come to comfort you. I came to see that you mind. He is in heaven, Agnes. The greatest thing is over.” -Her hatred was lulled. She murmured, “Dear Rickie!” and held up her hand -to him. Through her tears his meagre face showed as a seraph’s who spoke -the truth and forbade her to juggle with her soul. “Dear Rickie--but for -the rest of my life what am I to do?” +Her hatred was lulled. She murmured, “Dear Rickie!” and held up her +hand to him. Through her tears his meagre face showed as a seraph’s +who spoke the truth and forbade her to juggle with her soul. “Dear +Rickie—but for the rest of my life what am I to do?” -“Anything--if you remember that the greatest thing is over.” +“Anything—if you remember that the greatest thing is over.” “I don’t know you,” she said tremulously. “You have grown up in a moment. You never talked to us, and yet you understand it all. Tell me -again--I can only trust you--where he is.” +again—I can only trust you—where he is.” “He is in heaven.” “You are sure?” -It puzzled her that Rickie, who could scarcely tell you the time without -a saving clause, should be so certain about immortality. +It puzzled her that Rickie, who could scarcely tell you the time +without a saving clause, should be so certain about immortality. + VI + He did not stop for the funeral. Mr. Pembroke thought that he had a bad effect on Agnes, and prevented her from acquiescing in the tragedy as rapidly as she might have done. As he expressed it, “one must not court @@ -2142,32 +2180,32 @@ sorrow,” and he hinted to the young man that they desired to be alone. Rickie went back to the Silts. He was only there a few days. As soon as term opened he returned to -Cambridge, for which he longed passionately. The journey thither was now -familiar to him, and he took pleasure in each landmark. The fair valley -of Tewin Water, the cutting into Hitchin where the train traverses the -chalk, Baldock Church, Royston with its promise of downs, were nothing -in themselves, but dear as stages in the pilgrimage towards the abode -of peace. On the platform he met friends. They had all had pleasant -vacations: it was a happy world. The atmosphere alters. +Cambridge, for which he longed passionately. The journey thither +was now familiar to him, and he took pleasure in each landmark. The +fair valley of Tewin Water, the cutting into Hitchin where the train +traverses the chalk, Baldock Church, Royston with its promise of downs, +were nothing in themselves, but dear as stages in the pilgrimage +towards the abode of peace. On the platform he met friends. They had +all had pleasant vacations: it was a happy world. The atmosphere alters. Cambridge, according to her custom, welcomed her sons with open drains. Pettycury was up, so was Trinity Street, and navvies peeped out of King’s Parade. Here it was gas, there electric light, but everywhere something, and always a smell. It was also the day that the wheels fell off the station tram, and Rickie, who was naturally inside, was among -the passengers who “sustained no injury but a shock, and had as hearty a -laugh over the mishap afterwards as any one.” +the passengers who “sustained no injury but a shock, and had as hearty +a laugh over the mishap afterwards as any one.” Tilliard fled into a hansom, cursing himself for having tried to do the thing cheaply. Hornblower also swept past yelling derisively, with his luggage neatly piled above his head. “Let’s get out and walk,” muttered -Ansell. But Rickie was succouring a distressed female--Mrs. Aberdeen. +Ansell. But Rickie was succouring a distressed female—Mrs. Aberdeen. -“Oh, Mrs. Aberdeen, I never saw you: I am so glad to see you--I am so +“Oh, Mrs. Aberdeen, I never saw you: I am so glad to see you—I am so very glad.” Mrs. Aberdeen was cold. She did not like being spoken to outside the college, and was also distrait about her basket. Hitherto no genteel eye had even seen inside it, but in the collision its little -calico veil fell off, and there was revealed--nothing. The basket was +calico veil fell off, and there was revealed—nothing. The basket was empty, and never would hold anything illegal. All the same she was distrait, and “We shall meet later, sir, I dessy,” was all the greeting Rickie got from her. @@ -2182,9 +2220,9 @@ her life. I see one-half of it. What’s the other half? She may have a real jolly house, in good taste, with a little garden and books, and pictures. Or, again, she mayn’t. But in any case one ought to know. I know she’d dislike it, but she oughtn’t to dislike. After all, bedders -are to blame for the present lamentable state of things, just as much as -gentlefolk. She ought to want me to come. She ought to introduce me to -her husband.” +are to blame for the present lamentable state of things, just as much +as gentlefolk. She ought to want me to come. She ought to introduce me +to her husband.” They had reached the corner of Hills Road. Ansell spoke for the first time. He said, “Ugh!” @@ -2201,140 +2239,142 @@ Rickie laughed. “I answer none of your letters. You are quite hopeless by now. You can go to the bad. But I refuse to accompany you. I refuse to believe that -every human being is a moving wonder of supreme interest and tragedy and -beauty--which was what the letter in question amounted to. You’ll find -plenty who will believe it. It’s a very popular view among people +every human being is a moving wonder of supreme interest and tragedy +and beauty—which was what the letter in question amounted to. You’ll +find plenty who will believe it. It’s a very popular view among people who are too idle to think; it saves them the trouble of detecting the beautiful from the ugly, the interesting from the dull, the tragic from the melodramatic. You had just come from Sawston, and were apparently -carried away by the fact that Miss Pembroke had the usual amount of arms -and legs.” +carried away by the fact that Miss Pembroke had the usual amount of +arms and legs.” Rickie was silent. He had told his friend how he felt, but not what had -happened. Ansell could discuss love and death admirably, but somehow he -would not understand lovers or a dying man, and in the letter there had -been scant allusion to these concrete facts. Would Cambridge understand -them either? He watched some dons who were peeping into an excavation, -and throwing up their hands with humorous gestures of despair. These -men would lecture next week on Catiline’s conspiracy, on Luther, on -Evolution, on Catullus. They dealt with so much and they had experienced -so little. Was it possible he would ever come to think Cambridge narrow? -In his short life Rickie had known two sudden deaths, and that is enough -to disarrange any placid outlook on the world. He knew once for all -that we are all of us bubbles on an extremely rough sea. Into this sea -humanity has built, as it were, some little breakwaters--scientific -knowledge, civilized restraint--so that the bubbles do not break so -frequently or so soon. But the sea has not altered, and it was only a -chance that he, Ansell, Tilliard, and Mrs. Aberdeen had not all been -killed in the tram. +happened. Ansell could discuss love and death admirably, but somehow +he would not understand lovers or a dying man, and in the letter there +had been scant allusion to these concrete facts. Would Cambridge +understand them either? He watched some dons who were peeping into +an excavation, and throwing up their hands with humorous gestures of +despair. These men would lecture next week on Catiline’s conspiracy, +on Luther, on Evolution, on Catullus. They dealt with so much and they +had experienced so little. Was it possible he would ever come to think +Cambridge narrow? In his short life Rickie had known two sudden deaths, +and that is enough to disarrange any placid outlook on the world. +He knew once for all that we are all of us bubbles on an extremely +rough sea. Into this sea humanity has built, as it were, some little +breakwaters—scientific knowledge, civilized restraint—so that the +bubbles do not break so frequently or so soon. But the sea has not +altered, and it was only a chance that he, Ansell, Tilliard, and Mrs. +Aberdeen had not all been killed in the tram. They waited for the other tram by the Roman Catholic Church, whose florid bulk was already receding into twilight. It is the first big building that the incoming visitor sees. “Oh, here come the colleges!” - cries the Protestant parent, and then learns that it was built by a +cries the Protestant parent, and then learns that it was built by a Papist who made a fortune out of movable eyes for dolls. “Built out of -doll’s eyes to contain idols”--that, at all events, is the legend and +doll’s eyes to contain idols”—that, at all events, is the legend and the joke. It watches over the apostate city, taller by many a yard than anything within, and asserting, however wildly, that here is eternity, stability, and bubbles unbreakable upon a windless sea. A costly hymn tune announced five o’clock, and in the distance the more lovable note of St. Mary’s could be heard, speaking from the heart of -the town. Then the tram arrived--the slow stuffy tram that plies every -twenty minutes between the unknown and the marketplace--and took them -past the desecrated grounds of Downing, past Addenbrookes Hospital, girt -like a Venetian palace with a mantling canal, past the Fitz William, -towering upon immense substructions like any Roman temple, right up to -the gates of one’s own college, which looked like nothing else in the -world. The porters were glad to see them, but wished it had been a -hansom. “Our luggage,” explained Rickie, “comes in the hotel omnibus, if -you would kindly pay a shilling for mine.” Ansell turned aside to some -large lighted windows, the abode of a hospitable don, and from other -windows there floated familiar voices and the familiar mistakes in a -Beethoven sonata. The college, though small, was civilized, and proud of -its civilization. It was not sufficient glory to be a Blue there, nor -an additional glory to get drunk. Many a maiden lady who had read -that Cambridge men were sad dogs, was surprised and perhaps a little -disappointed at the reasonable life which greeted her. Miss Appleblossom -in particular had had a tremendous shock. The sight of young fellows -making tea and drinking water had made her wonder whether this was -Cambridge College at all. “It is so,” she exclaimed afterwards. “It is -just as I say; and what’s more, I wouldn’t have it otherwise; Stewart -says it’s as easy as easy to get into the swim, and not at all -expensive.” The direction of the swim was determined a little by the -genius of the place--for places have a genius, though the less we talk -about it the better--and a good deal by the tutors and resident fellows, -who treated with rare dexterity the products that came up yearly -from the public schools. They taught the perky boy that he was not -everything, and the limp boy that he might be something. They even -welcomed those boys who were neither limp nor perky, but odd--those boys -who had never been at a public school at all, and such do not find a -welcome everywhere. And they did everything with ease--one might almost -say with nonchalance, so that the boys noticed nothing, and received -education, often for the first time in their lives. +the town. Then the tram arrived—the slow stuffy tram that plies every +twenty minutes between the unknown and the marketplace—and took them +past the desecrated grounds of Downing, past Addenbrookes Hospital, +girt like a Venetian palace with a mantling canal, past the Fitz +William, towering upon immense substructions like any Roman temple, +right up to the gates of one’s own college, which looked like nothing +else in the world. The porters were glad to see them, but wished it +had been a hansom. “Our luggage,” explained Rickie, “comes in the +hotel omnibus, if you would kindly pay a shilling for mine.” Ansell +turned aside to some large lighted windows, the abode of a hospitable +don, and from other windows there floated familiar voices and the +familiar mistakes in a Beethoven sonata. The college, though small, was +civilized, and proud of its civilization. It was not sufficient glory +to be a Blue there, nor an additional glory to get drunk. Many a maiden +lady who had read that Cambridge men were sad dogs, was surprised and +perhaps a little disappointed at the reasonable life which greeted her. +Miss Appleblossom in particular had had a tremendous shock. The sight +of young fellows making tea and drinking water had made her wonder +whether this was Cambridge College at all. “It is so,” she exclaimed +afterwards. “It is just as I say; and what’s more, I wouldn’t have it +otherwise; Stewart says it’s as easy as easy to get into the swim, +and not at all expensive.” The direction of the swim was determined a +little by the genius of the place—for places have a genius, though the +less we talk about it the better—and a good deal by the tutors and +resident fellows, who treated with rare dexterity the products that +came up yearly from the public schools. They taught the perky boy that +he was not everything, and the limp boy that he might be something. +They even welcomed those boys who were neither limp nor perky, but +odd—those boys who had never been at a public school at all, and +such do not find a welcome everywhere. And they did everything with +ease—one might almost say with nonchalance, so that the boys noticed +nothing, and received education, often for the first time in their +lives. But Rickie turned to none of these friends, for just then he loved his rooms better than any person. They were all he really possessed in the -world, the only place he could call his own. Over the door was his name, -and through the paint, like a grey ghost, he could still read the name -of his predecessor. With a sigh of joy he entered the perishable home -that was his for a couple of years. There was a beautiful fire, and -the kettle boiled at once. He made tea on the hearth-rug and ate the -biscuits which Mrs. Aberdeen had brought for him up from Anderson’s. -“Gentlemen,” she said, “must learn to give and take.” He sighed again -and again, like one who had escaped from danger. With his head on the -fender and all his limbs relaxed, he felt almost as safe as he felt once -when his mother killed a ghost in the passage by carrying him through -it in her arms. There was no ghost now; he was frightened at reality; he -was frightened at the splendours and horrors of the world. +world, the only place he could call his own. Over the door was his +name, and through the paint, like a grey ghost, he could still read the +name of his predecessor. With a sigh of joy he entered the perishable +home that was his for a couple of years. There was a beautiful fire, +and the kettle boiled at once. He made tea on the hearth-rug and +ate the biscuits which Mrs. Aberdeen had brought for him up from +Anderson’s. “Gentlemen,” she said, “must learn to give and take.” He +sighed again and again, like one who had escaped from danger. With his +head on the fender and all his limbs relaxed, he felt almost as safe as +he felt once when his mother killed a ghost in the passage by carrying +him through it in her arms. There was no ghost now; he was frightened +at reality; he was frightened at the splendours and horrors of the +world. A letter from Miss Pembroke was on the table. He did not hurry to open it, for she, and all that she did, was overwhelming. She wrote like the Sibyl; her sorrowful face moved over the stars and shattered their -harmonies; last night he saw her with the eyes of Blake, a virgin widow, -tall, veiled, consecrated, with her hands stretched out against an -everlasting wind. Why should she write? Her letters were not for the +harmonies; last night he saw her with the eyes of Blake, a virgin +widow, tall, veiled, consecrated, with her hands stretched out against +an everlasting wind. Why should she write? Her letters were not for the likes of him, nor to be read in rooms like his. “We are not leaving Sawston,” she wrote. “I saw how selfish it was of me to risk spoiling Herbert’s career. I shall get used to any place. -Now that he is gone, nothing of that sort can matter. Every one has been -most kind, but you have comforted me most, though you did not mean to. I -cannot think how you did it, or understood so much. I still think of you -as a little boy with a lame leg,--I know you will let me say this,--and -yet when it came to the point you knew more than people who have been -all their lives with sorrow and death.” +Now that he is gone, nothing of that sort can matter. Every one has +been most kind, but you have comforted me most, though you did not mean +to. I cannot think how you did it, or understood so much. I still think +of you as a little boy with a lame leg,—I know you will let me say +this,—and yet when it came to the point you knew more than people who +have been all their lives with sorrow and death.” Rickie burnt this letter, which he ought not to have done, for it was one of the few tributes Miss Pembroke ever paid to imagination. But he felt that it did not belong to him: words so sincere should be for Gerald alone. The smoke rushed up the chimney, and he indulged in a vision. He saw it reach the outer air and beat against the low ceiling -of clouds. The clouds were too strong for it; but in them was one chink, -revealing one star, and through this the smoke escaped into the light -of stars innumerable. Then--but then the vision failed, and the voice of -science whispered that all smoke remains on earth in the form of smuts, -and is troublesome to Mrs. Aberdeen. +of clouds. The clouds were too strong for it; but in them was one +chink, revealing one star, and through this the smoke escaped into the +light of stars innumerable. Then—but then the vision failed, and the +voice of science whispered that all smoke remains on earth in the form +of smuts, and is troublesome to Mrs. Aberdeen. “I am jolly unpractical,” he mused. “And what is the point of it when real things are so wonderful? Who wants visions in a world that has -Agnes and Gerald?” He turned on the electric light and pulled open -the table-drawer. There, among spoons and corks and string, he found a +Agnes and Gerald?” He turned on the electric light and pulled open the +table-drawer. There, among spoons and corks and string, he found a fragment of a little story that he had tried to write last term. It was -called “The Bay of the Fifteen Islets,” and the action took place on St. -John’s Eve off the coast of Sicily. A party of tourists land on one of -the islands. Suddenly the boatmen become uneasy, and say that the island -is not generally there. It is an extra one, and they had better have tea -on one of the ordinaries. “Pooh, volcanic!” says the leading tourist, -and the ladies say how interesting. The island begins to rock, and so -do the minds of its visitors. They start and quarrel and jabber. Fingers -burst up through the sand-black fingers of sea devils. The island tilts. -The tourists go mad. But just before the catastrophe one man, integer -vitae scelerisque purus, sees the truth. Here are no devils. Other -muscles, other minds, are pulling the island to its subterranean home. -Through the advancing wall of waters he sees no grisly faces, no -ghastly medieval limbs, but--But what nonsense! When real things are so -wonderful, what is the point of pretending? +called “The Bay of the Fifteen Islets,” and the action took place on +St. John’s Eve off the coast of Sicily. A party of tourists land on one +of the islands. Suddenly the boatmen become uneasy, and say that the +island is not generally there. It is an extra one, and they had better +have tea on one of the ordinaries. “Pooh, volcanic!” says the leading +tourist, and the ladies say how interesting. The island begins to +rock, and so do the minds of its visitors. They start and quarrel and +jabber. Fingers burst up through the sand—black fingers of sea devils. +The island tilts. The tourists go mad. But just before the catastrophe +one man, _integer vitae scelerisque purus_, sees the truth. Here are +no devils. Other muscles, other minds, are pulling the island to its +subterranean home. Through the advancing wall of waters he sees no +grisly faces, no ghastly medieval limbs, but—But what nonsense! When +real things are so wonderful, what is the point of pretending? And so Rickie deflected his enthusiasms. Hitherto they had played on gods and heroes, on the infinite and the impossible, on virtue and @@ -2343,30 +2383,32 @@ man who was dead and a woman who was still alive. + VII -Love, say orderly people, can be fallen into by two methods: (1) through -the desires, (2) through the imagination. And if the orderly people are -English, they add that (1) is the inferior method, and characteristic -of the South. It is inferior. Yet those who pursue it at all events -know what they want; they are not puzzling to themselves or ludicrous -to others; they do not take the wings of the morning and fly into the -uttermost parts of the sea before walking to the registry office; they -cannot breed a tragedy quite like Rickie’s. -He is, of course, absurdly young--not twenty-one and he will be engaged +Love, say orderly people, can be fallen into by two methods: (1) +through the desires, (2) through the imagination. And if the orderly +people are English, they add that (1) is the inferior method, and +characteristic of the South. It is inferior. Yet those who pursue it +at all events know what they want; they are not puzzling to themselves +or ludicrous to others; they do not take the wings of the morning and +fly into the uttermost parts of the sea before walking to the registry +office; they cannot breed a tragedy quite like Rickie’s. + +He is, of course, absurdly young—not twenty-one—and he will be engaged to be married at twenty-three. He has no knowledge of the world; for example, he thinks that if you do not want money you can give it to friends who do. He believes in humanity because he knows a dozen decent people. He believes in women because he has loved his mother. And his friends are as young and as ignorant as himself. They are full of the -wine of life. But they have not tasted the cup--let us call it the -teacup--of experience, which has made men of Mr. Pembroke’s type what +wine of life. But they have not tasted the cup—let us call it the +teacup—of experience, which has made men of Mr. Pembroke’s type what they are. Oh, that teacup! To be taken at prayers, at friendship, at love, till we are quite sane, efficient, quite experienced, and quite useless to God or man. We must drink it, or we shall die. But we need not drink it always. Here is our problem and our salvation. There comes -a moment--God knows when--at which we can say, “I will experience no +a moment—God knows when—at which we can say, “I will experience no longer. I will create. I will be an experience.” But to do this we must be both acute and heroic. For it is not easy, after accepting six cups of tea, to throw the seventh in the face of the hostess. And to Rickie @@ -2375,7 +2417,7 @@ this moment has not, as yet, been offered. Ansell, at the end of his third year, got a first in the Moral Science Tripos. Being a scholar, he kept his rooms in college, and at once began to work for a Fellowship. Rickie got a creditable second in the -Classical Tripos, Part I., and retired to sallow lodgings in Mill bane, +Classical Tripos, Part I., and retired to sallow lodgings in Mill Lane, carrying with him the degree of B.A. and a small exhibition, which was quite as much as he deserved. For Part II. he read Greek Archaeology, and got a second. All this means that Ansell was much cleverer than @@ -2386,8 +2428,8 @@ little academic as the years passed over her. lying in a meadow during their last summer term. In his incurable love for flowers he had plaited two garlands of buttercups and cow-parsley, and Ansell’s lean Jewish face was framed in one of them. “Cambridge is -wonderful, but--but it’s so tiny. You have no idea--at least, I think -you have no idea--how the great world looks down on it.” +wonderful, but—but it’s so tiny. You have no idea—at least, I think +you have no idea—how the great world looks down on it.” “I read the letters in the papers.” @@ -2399,13 +2441,15 @@ you have no idea--how the great world looks down on it.” “Was she ever intended to touch them?” -“She satisfies,” said Rickie mysteriously, “neither the professions, nor -the public schools, nor the great thinking mass of men and women. There -is a general feeling that her day is over, and naturally one feels -pretty sick.” +“She satisfies,” said Rickie mysteriously, “neither the professions, +nor the public schools, nor the great thinking mass of men and women. +There is a general feeling that her day is over, and naturally one +feels pretty sick.” “Do you still write short stories?” +“Why?” + “Because your English has gone to the devil. You think and talk in Journalese. Define a great thinking mass.” @@ -2417,58 +2461,58 @@ Silence. “And thirdly, where is the great world?” -“Oh that--!” +“Oh that—!” “Yes. That,” exclaimed Ansell, rising from his couch in violent -excitement. “Where is it? How do you set about finding it? How long does -it take to get there? What does it think? What does it do? What does -it want? Oblige me with specimens of its art and literature.” Silence. -“Till you do, my opinions will be as follows: There is no great world at -all, only a little earth, for ever isolated from the rest of the little -solar system. The earth is full of tiny societies, and Cambridge is one -of them. All the societies are narrow, but some are good and some are -bad--just as one house is beautiful inside and another ugly. Observe the -metaphor of the houses: I am coming back to it. The good societies say, -`I tell you to do this because I am Cambridge.’ The bad ones say, `I -tell you to do that because I am the great world, not because I am -‘Peckham,’ or `Billingsgate,’ or `Park Lane,’ but `because I am the -great world.’ They lie. And fools like you listen to them, and believe -that they are a thing which does not exist and never has existed, and -confuse ‘great,’ which has no meaning whatever, with ‘good,’ which means -salvation. Look at this great wreath: it’ll be dead tomorrow. Look -at that good flower: it’ll come up again next year. Now for the other -metaphor. To compare the world to Cambridge is like comparing the -outsides of houses with the inside of a house. No intellectual effort is -needed, no moral result is attained. You only have to say, ‘Oh, what -a difference!’ and then come indoors again and exhibit your broadened -mind.” +excitement. “Where is it? How do you set about finding it? How long +does it take to get there? What does it think? What does it do? What +does it want? Oblige me with specimens of its art and literature.” +Silence. “Till you do, my opinions will be as follows: There is no +great world at all, only a little earth, for ever isolated from the +rest of the little solar system. The earth is full of tiny societies, +and Cambridge is one of them. All the societies are narrow, but some +are good and some are bad—just as one house is beautiful inside and +another ugly. Observe the metaphor of the houses: I am coming back +to it. The good societies say, ‘I tell you to do this because I am +Cambridge.’ The bad ones say, ‘I tell you to do that because I am the +great world,—not because I am ‘Peckham,’ or ‘Billingsgate,’ or ‘Park +Lane,’ but ‘because I am the great world.’ They lie. And fools like +you listen to them, and believe that they are a thing which does not +exist and never has existed, and confuse ‘great,’ which has no meaning +whatever, with ‘good,’ which means salvation. Look at this great +wreath: it’ll be dead tomorrow. Look at that good flower: it’ll come up +again next year. Now for the other metaphor. To compare the world to +Cambridge is like comparing the outsides of houses with the inside of a +house. No intellectual effort is needed, no moral result is attained. +You only have to say, ‘Oh, what a difference!’ and then come indoors +again and exhibit your broadened mind.” “I never shall come indoors again,” said Rickie. “That’s the whole point.” And his voice began to quiver. “It’s well enough for those who’ll get a Fellowship, but in a few weeks I shall go down. In a few -years it’ll be as if I’ve never been up. It matters very much to me what -the world is like. I can’t answer your questions about it; and that’s -no loss to you, but so much the worse for me. And then you’ve got a -house--not a metaphorical one, but a house with father and sisters. I -haven’t, and never shall have. There’ll never again be a home for me -like Cambridge. I shall only look at the outside of homes. According to -your metaphor, I shall live in the street, and it matters very much to -me what I find there.” +years it’ll be as if I’ve never been up. It matters very much to me +what the world is like. I can’t answer your questions about it; and +that’s no loss to you, but so much the worse for me. And then you’ve +got a house—not a metaphorical one, but a house with father and +sisters. I haven’t, and never shall have. There’ll never again be a +home for me like Cambridge. I shall only look at the outside of homes. +According to your metaphor, I shall live in the street, and it matters +very much to me what I find there.” “You’ll live in another house right enough,” said Ansell, rather -uneasily. “Only take care you pick out a decent one. I can’t think -why you flop about so helplessly, like a bit of seaweed. In four years +uneasily. “Only take care you pick out a decent one. I can’t think why +you flop about so helplessly, like a bit of seaweed. In four years you’ve taken as much root as any one.” “Where?” “I should say you’ve been fortunate in your friends.” -“Oh--that!” But he was not cynical--or cynical in a very tender way. -He was thinking of the irony of friendship--so strong it is, and so +“Oh—that!” But he was not cynical—or cynical in a very tender way. +He was thinking of the irony of friendship—so strong it is, and so fragile. We fly together, like straws in an eddy, to part in the open stream. Nature has no use for us: she has cut her stuff differently. -Dutiful sons, loving husbands, responsible fathers these are what she +Dutiful sons, loving husbands, responsible fathers—these are what she wants, and if we are friends it must be in our spare time. Abram and Sarai were sorrowful, yet their seed became as sand of the sea, and distracts the politics of Europe at this moment. But a few verses of @@ -2496,19 +2540,20 @@ Rickie got up. “Why go?” He stretched out his hand and caught hold of Rickie’s ankle. -“I’ve got that Miss Pembroke to lunch--that girl whom you say never’s +“I’ve got that Miss Pembroke to lunch—that girl whom you say never’s there.” “Then why go? All this week you have pretended Miss Pembroke awaited -you. Wednesday--Miss Pembroke to lunch. Thursday--Miss Pembroke to tea. -Now again--and you didn’t even invite her.” +you. Wednesday—Miss Pembroke to lunch. Thursday—Miss Pembroke to tea. +Now again—and you didn’t even invite her.” “To Cambridge, no. But the Hall man they’re stopping with has so many engagements that she and her friend can often come to me, I’m glad to -say. I don’t think I ever told you much, but over two years ago the man -she was going to marry was killed at football. She nearly died of grief. -This visit to Cambridge is almost the first amusement she has felt up to -taking. Oh, they go back tomorrow! Give me breakfast tomorrow.” +say. I don’t think I ever told you much, but over two years ago the +man she was going to marry was killed at football. She nearly died +of grief. This visit to Cambridge is almost the first amusement she +has felt up to taking. Oh, they go back tomorrow! Give me breakfast +tomorrow.” “All right.” @@ -2519,10 +2564,10 @@ Schopenhauer. Lemme go.” “Lemme go, Stewart.” -“It’s amusing that you’re so feeble. You--simply--can’t--get--away. I +“It’s amusing that you’re so feeble. You—simply—can’t—get—away. I wish I wanted to bully you.” -Rickie laughed, and suddenly over balanced into the grass. Ansell, with +Rickie laughed, and suddenly overbalanced into the grass. Ansell, with unusual playfulness, held him prisoner. They lay there for few minutes, talking and ragging aimlessly. Then Rickie seized his opportunity and jerked away. @@ -2532,9 +2577,9 @@ young man with great capacity for pleasure, and it pleased him that morning to be with his friend. The thought of two ladies waiting lunch did not deter him; stupid women, why shouldn’t they wait? Why should they interfere with their betters? With his ear on the ground he -listened to Rickie’s departing steps, and thought, “He wastes a lot of -time keeping engagements. Why will he be pleasant to fools?” And then -he thought, “Why has he turned so unhappy? It isn’t as it he’s a +listened to Rickie’s departing steps, and thought, “He wastes a lot +of time keeping engagements. Why will he be pleasant to fools?” And +then he thought, “Why has he turned so unhappy? It isn’t as if he’s a philosopher, or tries to solve the riddle of existence. And he’s got money of his own.” Thus thinking, he fell asleep. @@ -2547,31 +2592,31 @@ been a goddess both in joy and sorrow. She was a goddess still. But he had dethroned the god whom once he had glorified equally. Slowly, slowly, the image of Gerald had faded. That was the first step. Rickie had thought, “No matter. He will be bright again. Just now all the -radiance chances to be in her.” And on her he had fixed his eyes. He -thought of her awake. He entertained her willingly in dreams. He found -her in poetry and music and in the sunset. She made him kind and strong. -She made him clever. Through her he kept Cambridge in its proper place, -and lived as a citizen of the great world. But one night he dreamt -that she lay in his arms. This displeased him. He determined to think a -little about Gerald instead. Then the fabric collapsed. - -It was hard on Rickie thus to meet the devil. He did not deserve it, for -he was comparatively civilized, and knew that there was nothing shameful -in love. But to love this woman! If only it had been any one else! Love -in return--that he could expect from no one, being too ugly and too -unattractive. But the love he offered would not then have been vile. -The insult to Miss Pembroke, who was consecrated, and whom he had -consecrated, who could still see Gerald, and always would see him, -shining on his everlasting throne this was the crime from the devil, +radiance chances to be in her.” And on her he had fixed his eyes. +He thought of her awake. He entertained her willingly in dreams. He +found her in poetry and music and in the sunset. She made him kind +and strong. She made him clever. Through her he kept Cambridge in its +proper place, and lived as a citizen of the great world. But one night +he dreamt that she lay in his arms. This displeased him. He determined +to think a little about Gerald instead. Then the fabric collapsed. + +It was hard on Rickie thus to meet the devil. He did not deserve it, +for he was comparatively civilized, and knew that there was nothing +shameful in love. But to love this woman! If only it had been any one +else! Love in return—that he could expect from no one, being too ugly +and too unattractive. But the love he offered would not then have been +vile. The insult to Miss Pembroke, who was consecrated, and whom he +had consecrated, who could still see Gerald, and always would see him, +shining on his everlasting throne—this was the crime from the devil, the crime that no penance would ever purge. She knew nothing. She never would know. But the crime was registered in heaven. -He had been tempted to confide in Ansell. But to what purpose? He would -say, “I love Miss Pembroke.” and Stewart would reply, “You ass.” And -then. “I’m never going to tell her.” “You ass,” again. After all, it -was not a practical question; Agnes would never hear of his fall. If -his friend had been, as he expressed it, “labelled”; if he had been -a father, or still better a brother, one might tell him of the +He had been tempted to confide in Ansell. But to what purpose? He +would say, “I love Miss Pembroke.” and Stewart would reply, “You ass.” +And then. “I’m never going to tell her.” “You ass,” again. After all, +it was not a practical question; Agnes would never hear of his fall. +If his friend had been, as he expressed it, “labelled”; if he had +been a father, or still better a brother, one might tell him of the discreditable passion. But why irritate him for no reason? Thinking “I am always angling for sympathy; I must stop myself,” he hurried onward to the Union. @@ -2582,23 +2627,23 @@ what he’ll end by doing.” A little overacting his part, he apologized nonchalantly for his lateness. “It’s always the same,” cried Agnes. “Last time he forgot I was coming -altogether.” She wore a flowered muslin--something indescribably liquid +altogether.” She wore a flowered muslin—something indescribably liquid and cool. It reminded him a little of those swift piercing streams, -neither blue nor green, that gush out of the dolomites. Her face -was clear and brown, like the face of a mountaineer; her hair was so +neither blue nor green, that gush out of the dolomites. Her face was +clear and brown, like the face of a mountaineer; her hair was so plentiful that it seemed banked up above it; and her little toque, though it answered the note of the dress, was almost ludicrous, poised on so much natural glory. When she moved, the sunlight flashed on her ear-rings. He led them up to the luncheon-room. By now he was conscious of his -limitations as a host, and never attempted to entertain ladies in his -lodgings. Moreover, the Union seemed less intimate. It had a faint -flavour of a London club; it marked the undergraduate’s nearest approach -to the great world. Amid its waiters and serviettes one felt impersonal, -and able to conceal the private emotions. Rickie felt that if Miss -Pembroke knew one thing about him, she knew everything. During this -visit he took her to no place that he greatly loved. +limitations as a host, and never attempted to entertain ladies in +his lodgings. Moreover, the Union seemed less intimate. It had a +faint flavour of a London club; it marked the undergraduate’s nearest +approach to the great world. Amid its waiters and serviettes one felt +impersonal, and able to conceal the private emotions. Rickie felt that +if Miss Pembroke knew one thing about him, she knew everything. During +this visit he took her to no place that he greatly loved. “Sit down, ladies. Fall to. I’m sorry. I was out towards Coton with a dreadful friend.” @@ -2615,8 +2660,8 @@ of the May races. “And who is your friend?” she asked. “His name is Ansell.” -“Well, now, did I see him two years ago--as a bedmaker in something they -did at the Foot Lights? Oh, how I roared.” +“Well, now, did I see him two years ago—as a bedmaker in something +they did at the Foot Lights? Oh, how I roared.” “You didn’t see Mr. Ansell at the Foot Lights,” said Agnes, smiling. @@ -2635,9 +2680,9 @@ behaved! “I believe so.” -“Oh, give me clever people!” cried Mrs. Lewin. “They are kindness itself -at the Hall, but I assure you I am depressed at times. One cannot talk -bump-rowing for ever.” +“Oh, give me clever people!” cried Mrs. Lewin. “They are kindness +itself at the Hall, but I assure you I am depressed at times. One +cannot talk bump-rowing for ever.” “I never hear about him, Rickie; but isn’t he really your greatest friend?” @@ -2652,14 +2697,14 @@ friend?” well.” Agnes laughed, and, her elbows on the table, regarded them both through -her fingers--a habit of hers. Then she said, “Can’t we see the great Mr. -Ansell?” +her fingers—a habit of hers. Then she said, “Can’t we see the great +Mr. Ansell?” “Oh, let’s. Or would he frighten me?” “He would frighten you,” said Rickie. “He’s a trifle weird.” -“My good Rickie, if you knew the deathly dullness of Sawston--every +“My good Rickie, if you knew the deathly dullness of Sawston—every one saying the proper thing at the proper time, I so proper, Herbert so proper! Why, weirdness is the one thing I long for! Do arrange something.” @@ -2684,19 +2729,20 @@ shy man who has the pretty rooms in Trinity.” “Oh, very well. Where is it you breakfast, Rickie?” -He faltered. “To Ansell’s, it is--” It seemed as if he was making some -great admission. So self-conscious was he, that he thought the two women -exchanged glances. Had Agnes already explored that part of him that did -not belong to her? Would another chance step reveal the part that did? -He asked them abruptly what they would like to do after lunch. +He faltered. “To Ansell’s, it is—” It seemed as if he was making some +great admission. So self-conscious was he, that he thought the two +women exchanged glances. Had Agnes already explored that part of him +that did not belong to her? Would another chance step reveal the part +that did? He asked them abruptly what they would like to do after lunch. -“Anything,” said Mrs. Lewin,--“anything in the world.” +“Anything,” said Mrs. Lewin,—“anything in the world.” A walk? A boat? Ely? A drive? Some objection was raised to each. “To -tell the truth,” she said at last, “I do feel a wee bit tired, and what -occurs to me is this. You and Agnes shall leave me here and have no more -bother. I shall be perfectly happy snoozling in one of these delightful -drawing-room chairs. Do what you like, and then pick me up after it.” +tell the truth,” she said at last, “I do feel a wee bit tired, and +what occurs to me is this. You and Agnes shall leave me here and have +no more bother. I shall be perfectly happy snoozling in one of these +delightful drawing-room chairs. Do what you like, and then pick me up +after it.” “Alas, it’s against regulations,” said Rickie. “The Union won’t trust lady visitors on its premises alone.” @@ -2722,23 +2768,23 @@ go too fast?” “No, thank you. I get stronger every year. If it wasn’t for the look of the thing, I should be quite happy.” -“But you don’t care for the look of the thing. It’s only ignorant people -who do that, surely.” +“But you don’t care for the look of the thing. It’s only ignorant +people who do that, surely.” “Perhaps. I care. I like people who are well-made and beautiful. They are of some use in the world. I understand why they are there. I cannot understand why the ugly and crippled are there, however healthy they may feel inside. Don’t you know how Turner spoils his pictures by -introducing a man like a bolster in the foreground? Well, in actual life -every landscape is spoilt by men of worse shapes still.” +introducing a man like a bolster in the foreground? Well, in actual +life every landscape is spoilt by men of worse shapes still.” “You sound like a bolster with the stuffing out.” They laughed. She -always blew his cobwebs away like this, with a puff of humorous mountain -air. Just now the associations he attached to her were various--she -reminded him of a heroine of Meredith’s--but a heroine at the end of the -book. All had been written about her. She had played her mighty part, -and knew that it was over. He and he alone was not content, and wrote -for her daily a trivial and impossible sequel. +always blew his cobwebs away like this, with a puff of humorous +mountain air. Just now—the associations he attached to her were +various—she reminded him of a heroine of Meredith’s—but a heroine at +the end of the book. All had been written about her. She had played +her mighty part, and knew that it was over. He and he alone was not +content, and wrote for her daily a trivial and impossible sequel. Last time they had talked about Gerald. But that was some six months ago, when things felt easier. Today Gerald was the faintest blur. @@ -2758,22 +2804,22 @@ that pictures inside a place of worship were a pity. Rickie did not agree with this. He said again that nothing beautiful was ever to be regretted. -“You’re cracked on beauty,” she whispered--they were still inside the +“You’re cracked on beauty,” she whispered—they were still inside the church. “Do hurry up and write something.” “Something beautiful?” -“I believe you can. I’m going to lecture you seriously all the way home. -Take care that you don’t waste your life.” +“I believe you can. I’m going to lecture you seriously all the way +home. Take care that you don’t waste your life.” They continued the conversation outside. “But I’ve got to hate my own -writing. I believe that most people come to that stage--not so early +writing. I believe that most people come to that stage—not so early though. What I write is too silly. It can’t happen. For instance, a stupid vulgar man is engaged to a lovely young lady. He wants her to -live in the towns, but she only cares for woods. She shocks him this way -and that, but gradually he tames her, and makes her nearly as dull as -he is. One day she has a last explosion--over the snobby wedding -presents--and flies out of the drawing-room window, shouting, ‘Freedom +live in the towns, but she only cares for woods. She shocks him this +way and that, but gradually he tames her, and makes her nearly as dull +as he is. One day she has a last explosion—over the snobby wedding +presents—and flies out of the drawing-room window, shouting, ‘Freedom and truth!’ Near the house is a little dell full of fir-trees, and she runs into it. He comes there the next moment. But she’s gone.” @@ -2783,8 +2829,8 @@ runs into it. He comes there the next moment. But she’s gone.” into a tree.” “Rickie, it’s very good indeed. The kind of thing has something in it. -Of course you get it all through Greek and Latin. How upset the man must -be when he sees the girl turn.” +Of course you get it all through Greek and Latin. How upset the man +must be when he sees the girl turn.” “He doesn’t see her. He never guesses. Such a man could never see a Dryad.” @@ -2800,23 +2846,23 @@ it?” “Magazines? I haven’t tried. I know what the stuff’s worth. You see, a year or two ago I had a great idea of getting into touch with Nature, -just as the Greeks were in touch; and seeing England so beautiful, I -used to pretend that her trees and coppices and summer fields of parsley -were alive. It’s funny enough now, but it wasn’t funny then, for I got -in such a state that I believed, actually believed, that Fauns lived in -a certain double hedgerow near the Cog Magogs, and one evening I walked -a mile sooner than go through it alone.” +just as the Greeks were in touch; and seeing England so beautiful, +I used to pretend that her trees and coppices and summer fields of +parsley were alive. It’s funny enough now, but it wasn’t funny then, +for I got in such a state that I believed, actually believed, that +Fauns lived in a certain double hedgerow near the Gog Magogs, and one +evening I walked a mile sooner than go through it alone.” “Good gracious!” She laid her hand on his shoulder. He moved to the other side of the road. “It’s all right now. I’ve -changed those follies for others. But while I had them I began to write, -and even now I keep on writing, though I know better. I’ve got quite a -pile of little stories, all harping on this ridiculous idea of getting -into touch with Nature.” +changed those follies for others. But while I had them I began to +write, and even now I keep on writing, though I know better. I’ve got +quite a pile of little stories, all harping on this ridiculous idea of +getting into touch with Nature.” “I wish you weren’t so modest. It’s simply splendid as an idea. -Though--but tell me about the Dryad who was engaged to be married. What +Though—but tell me about the Dryad who was engaged to be married. What was she like?” “I can show you the dell in which the young person disappeared. We pass @@ -2825,9 +2871,9 @@ it on the right in a moment.” “It does seem a pity that you don’t make something of your talents. It seems such a waste to write little stories and never publish them. You must have enough for a book. Life is so full in our days that short -stories are the very thing; they get read by people who’d never tackle a -novel. For example, at our Dorcas we tried to read out a long affair -by Henry James--Herbert saw it recommended in ‘The Times.’ There was no +stories are the very thing; they get read by people who’d never tackle +a novel. For example, at our Dorcas we tried to read out a long affair +by Henry James—Herbert saw it recommended in ‘The Times.’ There was no doubt it was very good, but one simply couldn’t remember from one week to another what had happened. So now our aim is to get something that just lasts the hour. I take you seriously, Rickie, and that is why I am @@ -2837,60 +2883,63 @@ so often do nothing. I want you to plunge.” It thrilled him like a trumpet-blast. She took him seriously. Could he but thank her for her divine affability! But the words would stick in his throat, or worse still would bring other words along with them. His -breath came quickly, for he seldom spoke of his writing, and no one, not -even Ansell, had advised him to plunge. +breath came quickly, for he seldom spoke of his writing, and no one, +not even Ansell, had advised him to plunge. “But do you really think that I could take up literature?” -“Why not? You can try. Even if you fail, you can try. Of course we think -you tremendously clever; and I met one of your dons at tea, and he said -that your degree was not in the least a proof of your abilities: he said -that you knocked up and got flurried in examinations. Oh!”--her cheek -flushed,--“I wish I was a man. The whole world lies before them. They -can do anything. They aren’t cooped up with servants and tea parties and -twaddle. But where’s this dell where the Dryad disappeared?” +“Why not? You can try. Even if you fail, you can try. Of course +we think you tremendously clever; and I met one of your dons at +tea, and he said that your degree was not in the least a proof of +your abilities: he said that you knocked up and got flurried in +examinations. Oh!”—her cheek flushed,—“I wish I was a man. The whole +world lies before them. They can do anything. They aren’t cooped up +with servants and tea parties and twaddle. But where’s this dell where +the Dryad disappeared?” “We’ve passed it.” He had meant to pass it. It was too beautiful. All he had read, all he had hoped for, all he had loved, seemed to quiver -in its enchanted air. It was perilous. He dared not enter it with such a -woman. +in its enchanted air. It was perilous. He dared not enter it with such +a woman. “How long ago?” She turned back. “I don’t want to miss the dell. Here -it must be,” she added after a few moments, and sprang up the green bank -that hid the entrance from the road. “Oh, what a jolly place!” +it must be,” she added after a few moments, and sprang up the green +bank that hid the entrance from the road. “Oh, what a jolly place!” -“Go right in if you want to see it,” said Rickie, and did not offer to -go with her. She stood for a moment looking at the view, for a few steps -will increase a view in Cambridgeshire. The wind blew her dress against -her. Then, like a cataract again, she vanished pure and cool into the -dell. +“Go right in if you want to see it,” said Rickie, and did not offer +to go with her. She stood for a moment looking at the view, for a few +steps will increase a view in Cambridgeshire. The wind blew her dress +against her. Then, like a cataract again, she vanished pure and cool +into the dell. The young man thought of her feelings no longer. His heart throbbed louder and louder, and seemed to shake him to pieces. “Rickie!” She was calling from the dell. For an answer he sat down where he was, -on the dust-bespattered margin. She could call as loud as she liked. The -devil had done much, but he should not take him to her. +on the dust-bespattered margin. She could call as loud as she liked. +The devil had done much, but he should not take him to her. -“Rickie!”--and it came with the tones of an angel. He drove his fingers +“Rickie!”—and it came with the tones of an angel. He drove his fingers into his ears, and invoked the name of Gerald. But there was no sign, -neither angry motion in the air nor hint of January mist. June--fields -of June, sky of June, songs of June. Grass of June beneath him, grass of -June over the tragedy he had deemed immortal. A bird called out of the -dell: “Rickie!” +neither angry motion in the air nor hint of January mist. June—fields +of June, sky of June, songs of June. Grass of June beneath him, grass +of June over the tragedy he had deemed immortal. A bird called out of +the dell: “Rickie!” A bird flew into the dell. + • • • • • + “Did you take me for the Dryad?” she asked. She was sitting down with his head on her lap. He had laid it there for a moment before he went out to die, and she had not let him take it away. “I prayed you might not be a woman,” he whispered. -“Darling, I am very much a woman. I do not vanish into groves and trees. -I thought you would never come.” +“Darling, I am very much a woman. I do not vanish into groves and +trees. I thought you would never come.” -“Did you expect--?” +“Did you expect—?” “I hoped. I called hoping.” @@ -2910,8 +2959,10 @@ she said, “What is all this nonsense?” and folded him in her arms. + VIII + Ansell stood looking at his breakfast-table, which was laid for four instead of two. His bedmaker, equally peevish, explained how it had happened. Last night, at one in the morning, the porter had been awoke @@ -2922,7 +2973,7 @@ these things were to be sent to Mr. Ansell’s. for two. I can’t move for food.” “The note being ambiguous, the Kitchens judged best to send it all.” - She spoke of the kitchens in a half-respectful, half-pitying way, much +She spoke of the kitchens in a half-respectful, half-pitying way, much as one speaks of Parliament. “Who’s to pay for it?” He peeped into the new dishes. Kidneys entombed @@ -2943,23 +2994,23 @@ Tilliard was eating gooseberry jam. So Tilliard came, bearing himself a little formally, for he was not very intimate with his neighbour. Out of the window they called to -Widdrington. But he laid his hand on his stomach, thus indicating it was -too late. +Widdrington. But he laid his hand on his stomach, thus indicating it +was too late. “Who’s to pay for it?” repeated Ansell, as a man appeared from the Buttery carrying coffee on a bright tin tray. “College coffee! How nice!” remarked Tilliard, who was cutting the pie. “But before term ends you must come and try my new machine. My sister -gave it me. There is a bulb at the top, and as the water boils--” +gave it me. There is a bulb at the top, and as the water boils—” “He might have counter-ordered the lemon-sole. That’s Rickie all over. Violently economical, and then loses his head, and all the things go bad.” -“Give them to the bedder while they’re hot.” This was done. She accepted -them dispassionately, with the air of one who lives without nourishment. -Tilliard continued to describe his sister’s coffee machine. +“Give them to the bedder while they’re hot.” This was done. She +accepted them dispassionately, with the air of one who lives without +nourishment. Tilliard continued to describe his sister’s coffee machine. “What’s that?” They could hear panting and rustling on the stairs. @@ -2973,7 +3024,7 @@ Lewin. “Oh horrors! I’ve made a mistake.” “I wanted Mr. Elliot. Where are they?” -“We expect Mr. Elliot every-moment,” said Tilliard. +“We expect Mr. Elliot every moment,” said Tilliard. “Don’t tell me I’m right,” cried Mrs. Lewin, “and that you’re the terrifying Mr. Ansell.” And, with obvious relief, she wrung Tilliard @@ -2981,17 +3032,17 @@ warmly by the hand. “I’m Ansell,” said Ansell, looking very uncouth and grim. -“How stupid of me not to know it,” she gasped, and would have gone on to -I know not what, but the door opened again. It was Rickie. +“How stupid of me not to know it,” she gasped, and would have gone on +to I know not what, but the door opened again. It was Rickie. “Here’s Miss Pembroke,” he said. “I am going to marry her.” There was a profound silence. -“We oughtn’t to have done things like this,” said Agnes, turning to Mrs. -Lewin. “We have no right to take Mr. Ansell by surprise. It is Rickie’s -fault. He was that obstinate. He would bring us. He ought to be -horsewhipped.” +“We oughtn’t to have done things like this,” said Agnes, turning to +Mrs. Lewin. “We have no right to take Mr. Ansell by surprise. It is +Rickie’s fault. He was that obstinate. He would bring us. He ought to +be horsewhipped.” “He ought, indeed,” said Tilliard pleasantly, and bolted. Not till he gained his room did he realize that he had been less apt than usual. As @@ -3000,9 +3051,9 @@ the lemon-sole?” In such a situation Mrs. Lewin was of priceless value. She led the way to the table, observing, “I quite agree with Miss Pembroke. I loathe -surprises. Never shall I forget my horror when the knife-boy painted the -dove’s cage with the dove inside. He did it as a surprise. Poor Parsival -nearly died. His feathers were bright green!” +surprises. Never shall I forget my horror when the knife-boy painted +the dove’s cage with the dove inside. He did it as a surprise. Poor +Parsival nearly died. His feathers were bright green!” “Well, give me the lemon-soles,” said Rickie. “I like them.” @@ -3011,19 +3062,20 @@ nearly died. His feathers were bright green!” “Well, there you are! What’s there to be annoyed about?” “And while the cage was drying we put him among the bantams. They had -been the greatest allies. But I suppose they took him for a parrot or a -hawk, or something that bantams hate for while his cage was drying they -picked out his feathers, and PICKED and PICKED out his feathers, till he -was perfectly bald. ‘Hugo, look,’ said I. ‘This is the end of Parsival. -Let me have no more surprises.’ He burst into tears.” +been the greatest allies. But I suppose they took him for a parrot or +a hawk, or something that bantams hate; for while his cage was drying +they picked out his feathers, and _picked_ out his feathers, and +_Picked_ out his feathers, till he was perfectly bald. ‘Hugo, look,’ +said I. ‘This is the end of Parsival. Let me have no more surprises.’ +He burst into tears.” Thus did Mrs. Lewin create an atmosphere. At first it seemed unreal, -but gradually they got used to it, and breathed scarcely anything else -throughout the meal. In such an atmosphere everything seemed of small -and equal value, and the engagement of Rickie and Agnes like the -feathers of Parsival, fluttered lightly to the ground. Ansell was -generally silent. He was no match for these two quite clever women. Only -once was there a hitch. +but gradually they got used to it, and breathed scarcely anything +else throughout the meal. In such an atmosphere everything seemed of +small and equal value, and the engagement of Rickie and Agnes like +the feathers of Parsival, fluttered lightly to the ground. Ansell was +generally silent. He was no match for these two quite clever women. +Only once was there a hitch. They had been talking gaily enough about the betrothal when Ansell suddenly interrupted with, “When is the marriage?” @@ -3033,7 +3085,7 @@ part’s dreadful. Not for years, as far as we can see.” But Rickie had not seen as far. He had not talked to her of this at all. Last night they had spoken only of love. He exclaimed, “Oh, -Agnes-don’t!” Mrs. Lewin laughed roguishly. +Agnes—don’t!” Mrs. Lewin laughed roguishly. “Why this delay?” asked Ansell. @@ -3044,11 +3096,11 @@ Agnes looked at Rickie, who replied, “I must get money, worse luck.” He hesitated, and then said, “I must get my foot on the ladder, then.” Ansell began with, “On which ladder?” but Mrs. Lewin, using the -privilege of her sex, exclaimed, “Not another word. If there’s a thing I -abominate, it is plans. My head goes whirling at once.” What she really -abominated was questions, and she saw that Ansell was turning serious. -To appease him, she put on her clever manner and asked him about -Germany. How had it impressed him? Were we so totally unfitted to +privilege of her sex, exclaimed, “Not another word. If there’s a thing +I abominate, it is plans. My head goes whirling at once.” What she +really abominated was questions, and she saw that Ansell was turning +serious. To appease him, she put on her clever manner and asked him +about Germany. How had it impressed him? Were we so totally unfitted to repel invasion? Was not German scholarship overestimated? He replied discourteously, but he did reply; and if she could have stopped him thinking, her triumph would have been complete. @@ -3060,13 +3112,13 @@ did, but I don’t think any of us are conventional people.” He only replied, “Good-bye.” The ladies started off. Rickie lingered behind to whisper, “I would have it so. I would have you begin square -together. I can’t talk yet--I’ve loved her for years--can’t think what +together. I can’t talk yet—I’ve loved her for years—I can’t think what she’s done it for. I’m going to write short stories. I shall start this afternoon. She declares there may be something in me.” As soon as he had left, Tilliard burst in, white with agitation, and -crying, “Did you see my awful faux pas--about the horsewhip? What shall -I do? I must call on Elliot. Or had I better write?” +crying, “Did you see my awful _faux pas_—about the horsewhip? What +shall I do? I must call on Elliot. Or had I better write?” “Miss Pembroke will not mind,” said Ansell gravely. “She is unconventional.” He knelt in an arm-chair and hid his face in the back. @@ -3094,7 +3146,7 @@ old: I think that is one of the reasons. The brother just above me has lately married, and my sister was quite sick about it, though the thing was suitable in every way.” -“Damn THESE women, then,” said Ansell, bouncing round in the chair. +“Damn _these_ women, then,” said Ansell, bouncing round in the chair. “Damn these particular women.” “They looked and spoke like ladies.” @@ -3102,16 +3154,16 @@ was suitable in every way.” “Exactly. Their diplomacy was ladylike. Their lies were ladylike. They’ve caught Elliot in a most ladylike way. I saw it all during the one moment we were natural. Generally we were clattering after the -married one, whom--like a fool--I took for a fool. But for one moment we -were natural, and during that moment Miss Pembroke told a lie, and made -Rickie believe it was the truth.” +married one, whom—like a fool—I took for a fool. But for one moment +we were natural, and during that moment Miss Pembroke told a lie, and +made Rickie believe it was the truth.” “What did she say?” -“She said `we see’ instead of ‘I see.’” +“She said ‘we see’ instead of ‘I see.’” -Tilliard burst into laughter. This jaundiced young philosopher, with his -kinky view of life, was too much for him. +Tilliard burst into laughter. This jaundiced young philosopher, with +his kinky view of life, was too much for him. “She said ‘we see,’” repeated Ansell, “instead of ‘I see,’ and she made him believe that it was the truth. She caught him and makes him believe @@ -3123,26 +3175,25 @@ people.” “I never said they weren’t happy.” -“Then, my dear Ansell, why are you so cut up? It’s beastly when a friend -marries,--and I grant he’s rather young,--but I should say it’s the best -thing for him. A decent woman--and you have proved not one thing against -her--a decent woman will keep him up to the mark and stop him getting -slack. She’ll make him responsible and manly, for much as I like Rickie, -I always find him a little effeminate. And, really,”--his voice grew -sharper, for he was irritated by Ansell’s conceit, “and, really, you -talk as if you were mixed up in the affair. They pay a civil visit to -your rooms, and you see nothing but dark plots and challenges to war.” +“Then, my dear Ansell, why are you so cut up? It’s beastly when a +friend marries,—and I grant he’s rather young,—but I should say it’s +the best thing for him. A decent woman—and you have proved not one +thing against her—a decent woman will keep him up to the mark and stop +him getting slack. She’ll make him responsible and manly, for much as I +like Rickie, I always find him a little effeminate. And, really,”—his +voice grew sharper, for he was irritated by Ansell’s conceit, “and, +really, you talk as if you were mixed up in the affair. They pay a +civil visit to your rooms, and you see nothing but dark plots and +challenges to war.” “War!” cried Ansell, crashing his fists together. “It’s war, then!” -“Oh, what a lot of tommy-rot,” said Tilliard. “Can’t a man and woman get -engaged? My dear boy--excuse me talking like this--what on earth is it -to do with us?” - -“We’re his friends, and I hope we always shall be, but we shan’t keep -his friendship by fighting. We’re bound to fall into the background. -Wife first, friends some way after. You may resent the order, but it is -ordained by nature.” +“Oh, what a lot of tommy-rot,” said Tilliard. “Can’t a man and woman +get engaged? My dear boy—excuse me talking like this—what on earth is +it to do with us? We’re his friends, and I hope we always shall be, but +we shan’t keep his friendship by fighting. We’re bound to fall into +the background. Wife first, friends some way after. You may resent the +order, but it is ordained by nature.” “The point is, not what’s ordained by nature or any other fool, but what’s right.” @@ -3153,116 +3204,120 @@ that they’re happy.” “She is happy because she has conquered; he is happy because he has at last hung all the world’s beauty on to a single peg. He was always -trying to do it. He used to call the peg humanity. Will either of these -happinesses last? His can’t. Hers only for a time. I fight this woman -not only because she fights me, but because I foresee the most appalling -catastrophe. She wants Rickie, partly to replace another man whom she -lost two years ago, partly to make something out of him. He is to write. -In time she will get sick of this. He won’t get famous. She will only -see how thin he is and how lame. She will long for a jollier husband, -and I don’t blame her. And, having made him thoroughly miserable and -degraded, she will bolt--if she can do it like a lady.” +trying to do it. He used to call the peg humanity. Will either of +these happinesses last? His can’t. Hers only for a time. I fight this +woman not only because she fights me, but because I foresee the most +appalling catastrophe. She wants Rickie, partly to replace another man +whom she lost two years ago, partly to make something out of him. He +is to write. In time she will get sick of this. He won’t get famous. +She will only see how thin he is and how lame. She will long for a +jollier husband, and I don’t blame her. And, having made him thoroughly +miserable and degraded, she will bolt—if she can do it like a lady.” Such were the opinions of Stewart Ansell. + IX -Seven letters written in June:-- +Seven letters written in June:— -Cambridge + +Cambridge. Dear Rickie, I would rather write, and you can guess what kind of letter this is when I say it is a fair copy: I have been making rough drafts all the morning. When I talk I get angry, and also at times try to be -clever--two reasons why I fail to get attention paid to me. This is a +clever—two reasons why I fail to get attention paid to me. This is a letter of the prudent sort. If it makes you break off the engagement, its work is done. You are not a person who ought to marry at all. You -are unfitted in body: that we once discussed. You are also unfitted in -soul: you want and you need to like many people, and a man of that sort -ought not to marry. “You never were attached to that great sect” who -can like one person only, and if you try to enter it you will find -destruction. I have read in books and I cannot afford to despise books, -they are all that I have to go by--that men and women desire different -things. Man wants to love mankind; woman wants to love one man. When she -has him her work is over. She is the emissary of Nature, and Nature’s -bidding has been fulfilled. But man does not care a damn for Nature--or -at least only a very little damn. He cares for a hundred things besides, -and the more civilized he is the more he will care for these other -hundred things, and demand not only--a wife and children, but also -friends, and work, and spiritual freedom. - -I believe you to be extraordinarily civilized.--Yours ever, +are unfitted in body: that we once discussed. You are also unfitted +in soul: you want and you need to like many people, and a man of that +sort ought not to marry. “You never were attached to that great sect” +who can like one person only, and if you try to enter it you will +find destruction. I have read in books and I cannot afford to despise +books, they are all that I have to go by—that men and women desire +different things. Man wants to love mankind; woman wants to love one +man. When she has him her work is over. She is the emissary of Nature, +and Nature’s bidding has been fulfilled. But man does not care a damn +for Nature—or at least only a very little damn. He cares for a hundred +things besides, and the more civilized he is the more he will care for +these other hundred things, and demand not only a wife and children, +but also friends, and work, and spiritual freedom. + +I believe you to be extraordinarily civilized.—Yours ever, S.A. -Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road, Sawston +Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road, Sawston. Dear Ansell, -But I’m in love--a detail you’ve forgotten. I can’t listen to English +But I’m in love—a detail you’ve forgotten. I can’t listen to English Essays. The wretched Agnes may be an “emissary of Nature,” but I only -grinned when I read it. I may be extraordinarily civilized, but I don’t -feel so; I’m in love, and I’ve found a woman to love me, and I mean -to have the hundred other things as well. She wants me to have -them--friends and work, and spiritual freedom, and everything. You +grinned when I read it. I may be extraordinarily civilized, but I +don’t feel so; I’m in love, and I’ve found a woman to love me, and I +mean to have the hundred other things as well. She wants me to have +them—friends and work, and spiritual freedom, and everything. You and your books miss this, because your books are too sedate. Read -poetry--not only Shelley. Understand Beatrice, and Clara Middleton, and +poetry—not only Shelley. Understand Beatrice, and Clara Middleton, and Brunhilde in the first scene of Gotterdammerung. Understand Goethe when he says “the eternal feminine leads us on,” and don’t write another -English Essay.--Yours ever affectionately, +English Essay.—Yours ever affectionately, R.E. -Cambridge +Cambridge. -Dear Rickie: +Dear Rickie, What am I to say? “Understand Xanthippe, and Mrs. Bennet, and Elsa in -the question scene of Lohengrin”? “Understand Euripides when he says the -eternal feminine leads us a pretty dance”? I shall say nothing of the -sort. The allusions in this English Essay shall not be literary. My -personal objections to Miss Pembroke are as follows:--(1) She is not +the question scene of Lohengrin”? “Understand Euripides when he says +the eternal feminine leads us a pretty dance”? I shall say nothing of +the sort. The allusions in this English Essay shall not be literary. My +personal objections to Miss Pembroke are as follows:—(1) She is not serious. (2) She is not truthful. -Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road Sawston +Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road, +Sawston. My Dear Stewart, You couldn’t know. I didn’t know for a moment. But this letter of yours -is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me yet--more +is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me yet—more wonderful (I don’t exaggerate) than the moment when Agnes promised to marry me. I always knew you liked me, but I never knew how much until this letter. Up to now I think we have been too much like the strong heroes in books who feel so much and say so little, and feel all the more for saying so little. Now that’s over and we shall never be that -kind of an ass again. We’ve hit--by accident--upon something permanent. +kind of an ass again. We’ve hit—by accident—upon something permanent. You’ve written to me, “I hate the woman who will be your wife,” and I write back, “Hate her. Can’t I love you both?” She will never come between us, Stewart (She wouldn’t wish to, but that’s by the way), because our friendship has now passed beyond intervention. No third person could break it. We couldn’t ourselves, I fancy. We may quarrel -and argue till one of us dies, but the thing is registered. I only wish, -dear man, you could be happier. For me, it’s as if a light was suddenly -held behind the world. +and argue till one of us dies, but the thing is registered. I only +wish, dear man, you could be happier. For me, it’s as if a light was +suddenly held behind the world. R.E. -Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road, Sawston +Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road, +Sawston. -Dear Mrs. Lewin,-- +Dear Mrs. Lewin, The time goes flying, but I am getting to learn my wonderful boy. We speak a great deal about his work. He has just finished a curious thing -called “Nemi”--about a Roman ship that is actually sunk in some lake. I +called “Nemi”—about a Roman ship that is actually sunk in some lake. I cannot think how he describes the things, when he has never seen them. If, as I hope, he goes to Italy next year, he should turn out something really good. Meanwhile we are hunting for a publisher. Herbert believes @@ -3271,37 +3326,38 @@ after all, better to write one long one. But you must not think we only talk books. What we say on other topics cannot so easily be repeated! Oh, Mrs Lewin, he is a dear, and dearer -than ever now that we have him at Sawston. Herbert, in a quiet way, -has been making inquiries about those Cambridge friends of his. Nothing +than ever now that we have him at Sawston. Herbert, in a quiet way, has +been making inquiries about those Cambridge friends of his. Nothing against them, but they seem to be terribly eccentric. None of them are good at games, and they spend all their spare time thinking and -discussing. They discuss what one knows and what one never will know and -what one had much better not know. Herbert says it is because they have -not got enough to do.--Ever your grateful and affectionate friend, +discussing. They discuss what one knows and what one never will know +and what one had much better not know. Herbert says it is because they +have not got enough to do.—Ever your grateful and affectionate friend, Agnes Pembroke -Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road Sawston +Shelthorpe, 9 Sawston Park Road, +Sawston. -Dear Mr. Silt,-- +Dear Mr. Silt, Thank you for the congratulations, which I have handed over to the delighted Rickie. -(The congratulations were really addressed to Agnes--a social blunder +(The congratulations were really addressed to Agnes—a social blunder which Mr. Pembroke deftly corrects.) I am sorry that the rumor reached you that I was not pleased. Anything pleases me that promises my sister’s happiness, and I have known your cousin nearly as long as you have. It will be a very long engagement, -for he must make his way first. The dear boy is not nearly as wealthy as -he supposed; having no tastes, and hardly any expenses, he used to talk -as if he were a millionaire. He must at least double his income before -he can dream of more intimate ties. This has been a bitter pill, but I -am glad to say that they have accepted it bravely. +for he must make his way first. The dear boy is not nearly as wealthy +as he supposed; having no tastes, and hardly any expenses, he used to +talk as if he were a millionaire. He must at least double his income +before he can dream of more intimate ties. This has been a bitter pill, +but I am glad to say that they have accepted it bravely. -Hoping that you and Mrs. Silt will profit by your week at Margate.-I +Hoping that you and Mrs. Silt will profit by your week at Margate.—I remain, yours very sincerely, Herbert Pembroke @@ -3309,47 +3365,50 @@ Herbert Pembroke Cadover, Wilts. -Dear Miss Pembroke,--Agnes-- +Dear Miss Pembroke—Agnes, I hear that you are going to marry my nephew. I have no idea what he is like, and wonder whether you would bring him that I may find out. Isn’t -September rather a nice month? You might have to go to Stone Henge, but -with that exception would be left unmolested. I do hope you will manage -the visit. We met once at Mrs. Lewin’s, and I have a very clear -recollection of you.--Believe me, yours sincerely, +September rather a nice month? You might have to go to Stone Henge, +but with that exception would be left unmolested. I do hope you will +manage the visit. We met once at Mrs. Lewin’s, and I have a very clear +recollection of you.—Believe me, yours sincerely, Emily Failing + X + The rain tilted a little from the south-west. For the most part it fell from a grey cloud silently, but now and then the tilt increased, and a kind of sigh passed over the country as the drops lashed the walls, trees, shepherds, and other motionless objects that stood in their slanting career. At times the cloud would descend and visibly embrace the earth, to which it had only sent messages; and the earth itself -would bring forth clouds--clouds of a whiter breed--which formed in +would bring forth clouds—clouds of a whiter breed—which formed in shallow valleys and followed the courses of the streams. It seemed the beginning of life. Again God said, “Shall we divide the waters from the land or not? Was not the firmament labour and glory sufficient?” At all events it was the beginning of life pastoral, behind which imagination cannot travel. -Yet complicated people were getting wet--not only the shepherds. For -instance, the piano-tuner was sopping. So was the vicar’s wife. So were -the lieutenant and the peevish damsels in his Battleston car. Gallantry, -charity, and art pursued their various missions, perspiring and muddy, -while out on the slopes beyond them stood the eternal man and the -eternal dog, guarding eternal sheep until the world is vegetarian. +Yet complicated people were getting wet—not only the shepherds. For +instance, the piano-tuner was sopping. So was the vicar’s wife. So +were the lieutenant and the peevish damsels in his Battleston car. +Gallantry, charity, and art pursued their various missions, perspiring +and muddy, while out on the slopes beyond them stood the eternal +man and the eternal dog, guarding eternal sheep until the world is +vegetarian. -Inside an arbour--which faced east, and thus avoided the bad -weather--there sat a complicated person who was dry. She looked at the +Inside an arbour—which faced east, and thus avoided the bad +weather—there sat a complicated person who was dry. She looked at the drenched world with a pleased expression, and would smile when a cloud -would lay down on the village, or when the rain sighed louder than usual -against her solid shelter. Ink, paperclips, and foolscap paper were -on the table before her, and she could also reach an umbrella, a +would lay down on the village, or when the rain sighed louder than +usual against her solid shelter. Ink, paperclips, and foolscap paper +were on the table before her, and she could also reach an umbrella, a waterproof, a walking-stick, and an electric bell. Her age was between elderly and old, and her forehead was wrinkled with an expression of slight but perpetual pain. But the lines round her mouth indicated that @@ -3368,19 +3427,19 @@ hollow in the chalk up behind. The earth could absorb no longer. The lady did not think of all this, for she hated questions of whence and wherefore, and the ways of the earth (“our dull stepmother”) bored her unspeakably. But the water, just the snake of water, was amusing, and -she flung her golosh at it to dam it up. Then she wrote feverishly, “The -subject of this memoir first saw the light in the middle of the night. -It was twenty to eleven. His pa was a parson, but he was not his pa’s -son, and never went to heaven.” There was the sound of a train, and -presently white smoke appeared, rising laboriously through the heavy -air. It distracted her, and for about a quarter of an hour she sat -perfectly still, doing nothing. At last she pushed the spoilt paper -aside, took afresh piece, and was beginning to write, “On May the 14th, +she flung her golosh at it to dam it up. Then she wrote feverishly, +“The subject of this memoir first saw the light in the middle of the +night. It was twenty to eleven. His pa was a parson, but he was not his +pa’s son, and never went to heaven.” There was the sound of a train, +and presently white smoke appeared, rising laboriously through the +heavy air. It distracted her, and for about a quarter of an hour she +sat perfectly still, doing nothing. At last she pushed the spoilt paper +aside, took a fresh piece, and was beginning to write, “On May the 14th, 1842,” when there was a crunch on the gravel, and a furious voice said, “I am sorry for Flea Thompson.” -“I daresay I am sorry for him too,” said the lady; her voice was languid -and pleasant. “Who is he?” +“I daresay I am sorry for him too,” said the lady; her voice was +languid and pleasant. “Who is he?” “Flea’s a liar, and the next time we meet he’ll be a football.” Off slipped a sodden ulster. He hung it up angrily upon a peg: the arbour @@ -3400,35 +3459,36 @@ grazes the Rings.” “The last time I go with his sheep. But not the last time he sees me. I am sorry for him. He dodged me today.” -“Do you mean to say”--she became animated--“that you have been out in +“Do you mean to say”—she became animated—“that you have been out in the wet keeping the sheep of Flea Thompson?” “I had to.” He blew on his fingers and took off his cap. Water trickled -over his unshaven cheeks. His hair was so wet that it seemed worked upon -his scalp in bronze. - -“Get away, bad dog!” screamed the lady, for he had given himself a shake -and spattered her dress with water. He was a powerful boy of twenty, -admirably muscular, but rather too broad for his height. People called -him “Podge” until they were dissuaded. Then they called him “Stephen” or -“Mr. Wonham.” Then he said, “You can call me Podge if you like.” - -“As for Flea--!” he began tempestuously. He sat down by her, and with -much heavy breathing told the story,--“Flea has a girl at Wintersbridge, -and I had to go with his sheep while he went to see her. Two hours. We -agreed. Half an hour to go, an hour to kiss his girl, and half an hour -back--and he had my bike. Four hours! Four hours and seven minutes I was -on the Rings, with a fool of a dog, and sheep doing all they knew to get -the turnips.” +over his unshaven cheeks. His hair was so wet that it seemed worked +upon his scalp in bronze. + +“Get away, bad dog!” screamed the lady, for he had given himself a +shake and spattered her dress with water. He was a powerful boy of +twenty, admirably muscular, but rather too broad for his height. People +called him “Podge” until they were dissuaded. Then they called him +“Stephen” or “Mr. Wonham.” Then he said, “You can call me Podge if you +like.” + +“As for Flea—!” he began tempestuously. He sat down by her, and +with much heavy breathing told the story,—“Flea has a girl at +Wintersbridge, and I had to go with his sheep while he went to see her. +Two hours. We agreed. Half an hour to go, an hour to kiss his girl, and +half an hour back—and he had my bike. Four hours! Four hours and seven +minutes I was on the Rings, with a fool of a dog, and sheep doing all +they knew to get the turnips.” “My farm is a mystery to me,” said the lady, stroking her fingers. “Some day you must really take me to see it. It must be like a Gilbert and Sullivan opera, with a chorus of agitated employers. How is it that -I have escaped? Why have I never been summoned to milk the cows, or flay -the pigs, or drive the young bullocks to the pasture?” +I have escaped? Why have I never been summoned to milk the cows, or +flay the pigs, or drive the young bullocks to the pasture?” -He looked at her with astonishingly blue eyes--the only dry things he +He looked at her with astonishingly blue eyes—the only dry things he had about him. He could not see into her: she would have puzzled an older and clever man. He may have seen round her. @@ -3440,13 +3500,13 @@ ever.” “Oh, you understand right enough,” she exclaimed irritably, and then smiled, for he was conceited, and did not like being told that he was not a thing of beauty. “Large and steady feet,” she continued, “have -this disadvantage--you can knock down a man, but you will never knock +this disadvantage—you can knock down a man, but you will never knock down a woman.” -“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not likely--” +“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not likely—” -“Oh, never mind--never, never mind. I was being funny. I repent. Tell me -about the sheep. Why did you go with them?” +“Oh, never mind—never, never mind. I was being funny. I repent. Tell +me about the sheep. Why did you go with them?” “I did tell you. I had to.” @@ -3457,7 +3517,7 @@ about the sheep. Why did you go with them?” “But why?” His eyes shot past her again. It was so obvious that the man had to see -his girl. For two hours though--not for four hours seven minutes. +his girl. For two hours though—not for four hours seven minutes. “Did you have any lunch?” @@ -3472,14 +3532,14 @@ his girl. For two hours though--not for four hours seven minutes. “Oh Lord, don’t ask me!” “You distress me. You rob the Pastoral of its lingering romance. Is -there no poetry and no thought in England? Is there no one, in all these -downs, who warbles with eager thought the Doric lay?” +there no poetry and no thought in England? Is there no one, in all +these downs, who warbles with eager thought the Doric lay?” “Chaps sing to themselves at times, if you mean that.” “I dream of Arcady. I open my eyes. Wiltshire. Of Amaryllis: Flea -Thompson’s girl. Of the pensive shepherd, twitching his mantle blue: you -in an ulster. Aren’t you sorry for me?” +Thompson’s girl. Of the pensive shepherd, twitching his mantle blue: +you in an ulster. Aren’t you sorry for me?” “May I put in a pipe?” @@ -3509,9 +3569,9 @@ narrow but not uninteresting brain. Did he suppose that he was going to sprightly orthodoxy. Why didn’t he read poetry, instead of wasting his time between books like these and country like that? -The cloud parted, and the increase of light made her look up. Over the -valley she saw a grave sullen down, and on its flanks a little brown -smudge--her sheep, together with her shepherd, Fleance Thompson, +The cloud parted, and the increase of light made her look up. Over +the valley she saw a grave sullen down, and on its flanks a little +brown smudge—her sheep, together with her shepherd, Fleance Thompson, returned to his duties at last. A trickle of water came through the arbour roof. She shrieked in dismay. @@ -3519,32 +3579,32 @@ arbour roof. She shrieked in dismay. keeping his place in his book. She dried up the spot on the manuscript. Then she wrote: “Anthony -Eustace Failing, the subject of this memoir, was born at Wolverhampton.” - But she wrote no more. She was fidgety. Another drop fell from the roof. -Likewise an earwig. She wished she had not been so playful in flinging -her golosh into the path. The boy who was overthrowing religion breathed -somewhat heavily as he did so. Another earwig. She touched the electric -bell. - -“I’m going in,” she observed. “It’s far too wet.” Again the cloud parted -and caused her to add, “Weren’t you rather kind to Flea?” But he was -deep in the book. He read like a poor person, with lips apart and a -finger that followed the print. At times he scratched his ear, or ran -his tongue along a straggling blonde moustache. His face had after all a -certain beauty: at all events the colouring was regal--a steady crimson -from throat to forehead: the sun and the winds had worked on him daily -ever since he was born. “The face of a strong man,” thought the lady. -“Let him thank his stars he isn’t a silent strong man, or I’d turn -him into the gutter.” Suddenly it struck her that he was like an Irish -terrier. He worried infinity as if it was a bone. Gnashing his teeth, -he tried to carry the eternal subtleties by violence. As a man he often -bored her, for he was always saying and doing the same things. But as -a philosopher he really was a joy for ever, an inexhaustible buffoon. -Taking up her pen, she began to caricature him. She drew a rabbit-warren -where rabbits were at play in four dimensions. Before she had introduced -the principal figure, she was interrupted by the footman. He had come up -from the house to answer the bell. On seeing her he uttered a respectful -cry. +Eustace Failing, the subject of this memoir, was born at +Wolverhampton.” But she wrote no more. She was fidgety. Another drop +fell from the roof. Likewise an earwig. She wished she had not been +so playful in flinging her golosh into the path. The boy who was +overthrowing religion breathed somewhat heavily as he did so. Another +earwig. She touched the electric bell. + +“I’m going in,” she observed. “It’s far too wet.” Again the cloud +parted and caused her to add, “Weren’t you rather kind to Flea?” But +he was deep in the book. He read like a poor person, with lips apart +and a finger that followed the print. At times he scratched his ear, or +ran his tongue along a straggling blonde moustache. His face had after +all a certain beauty: at all events the colouring was regal—a steady +crimson from throat to forehead: the sun and the winds had worked on +him daily ever since he was born. “The face of a strong man,” thought +the lady. “Let him thank his stars he isn’t a silent strong man, or I’d +turn him into the gutter.” Suddenly it struck her that he was like an +Irish terrier. He worried infinity as if it was a bone. Gnashing his +teeth, he tried to carry the eternal subtleties by violence. As a man +he often bored her, for he was always saying and doing the same things. +But as a philosopher he really was a joy for ever, an inexhaustible +buffoon. Taking up her pen, she began to caricature him. She drew a +rabbit-warren where rabbits were at play in four dimensions. Before +she had introduced the principal figure, she was interrupted by the +footman. He had come up from the house to answer the bell. On seeing +her he uttered a respectful cry. “Madam! Are you here? I am very sorry. I looked for you everywhere. Mr. Elliot and Miss Pembroke arrived nearly an hour ago.” @@ -3568,15 +3628,15 @@ your pretty skin.” “You must not call me ‘she’ to the servants,” said Mrs. Failing as they walked away, she limping with a stick, he holding a great umbrella over -her. “I will not have it.” Then more pleasantly, “And don’t tell him -he lies. We all lie. I knew quite well they were coming by the four-six +her. “I will not have it.” Then more pleasantly, “And don’t tell him he +lies. We all lie. I knew quite well they were coming by the four-six train. I saw it pass.” “That reminds me. Another child run over at the Roman crossing. -Whish--bang--dead.” +Whish—bang—dead.” -“Oh my foot! Oh my foot, my foot!” said Mrs. Failing, and paused to take -breath. +“Oh my foot! Oh my foot, my foot!” said Mrs. Failing, and paused to +take breath. “Bad?” he asked callously. @@ -3586,7 +3646,7 @@ slight, passed away, and they proceeded, descending a green airless corridor which opened into the gravel drive. “Isn’t it odd,” said Mrs. Failing, “that the Greeks should be -enthusiastic about laurels--that Apollo should pursue any one who could +enthusiastic about laurels—that Apollo should pursue any one who could possibly turn into such a frightful plant? What do you make of Rickie?” “Oh, I don’t know.” @@ -3598,21 +3658,21 @@ He made no reply. “Don’t you think, Stephen, that a person in your precarious position ought to be civil to my relatives?” -“Sorry, Mrs. Failing. I meant to be civil. I only hadn’t--anything to +“Sorry, Mrs. Failing. I meant to be civil. I only hadn’t—anything to say.” -She a laughed. “Are you a dear boy? I sometimes wonder; or are you a +She laughed. “Are you a dear boy? I sometimes wonder; or are you a brute?” Again he had nothing to say. Then she laughed more mischievously, and -said-- +said— “How can you be either, when you are a philosopher? Would you mind -telling me--I am so anxious to learn--what happens to people when they +telling me—I am so anxious to learn—what happens to people when they die?” -“Don’t ask ME.” He knew by bitter experience that she was making fun of -him. +“Don’t ask _me_.” He knew by bitter experience that she was making fun +of him. “Oh, but I do ask you. Those paper books of yours are so up-to-date. For instance, what has happened to the child you say was killed on the @@ -3622,10 +3682,10 @@ The rain increased. The drops pattered hard on the leaves, and outside the corridor men and women were struggling, however stupidly, with the facts of life. Inside it they wrangled. She teased the boy, and laughed at his theories, and proved that no man can be an agnostic who has a -sense of humour. Suddenly she stopped, not through any skill of his, but -because she had remembered some words of Bacon: “The true atheist is he -whose hands are cauterized by holy things.” She thought of her distant -youth. The world was not so humorous then, but it had been more +sense of humour. Suddenly she stopped, not through any skill of his, +but because she had remembered some words of Bacon: “The true atheist +is he whose hands are cauterized by holy things.” She thought of her +distant youth. The world was not so humorous then, but it had been more important. For a moment she respected her companion, and determined to vex him no more. @@ -3644,8 +3704,8 @@ shave.” In the drawing-room she could hear the guests conversing in the subdued tones of those who have not been welcomed. Having changed her dress and -glanced at the poems of Milton, she went to them, with uplifted hands of -apology and horror. +glanced at the poems of Milton, she went to them, with uplifted hands +of apology and horror. “But I must have tea,” she announced, when they had assured her that they understood. “Otherwise I shall start by being cross. Agnes, stop @@ -3654,29 +3714,29 @@ me. Give me tea.” Agnes, looking pleased, moved to the table and served her hostess. Rickie followed with a pagoda of sandwiches and little cakes. -“I feel twenty-seven years younger. Rickie, you are so like your father. -I feel it is twenty-seven years ago, and that he is bringing your mother -to see me for the first time. It is curious--almost terrible--to see -history repeating itself.” +“I feel twenty-seven years younger. Rickie, you are so like your +father. I feel it is twenty-seven years ago, and that he is bringing +your mother to see me for the first time. It is curious—almost +terrible—to see history repeating itself.” The remark was not tactful. -“I remember that visit well,” she continued thoughtfully, “I suppose it -was a wonderful visit, though we none of us knew it at the time. We all -fell in love with your mother. I wish she would have fallen in love with -us. She couldn’t bear me, could she?” +“I remember that visit well,” she continued thoughtfully, “I suppose +it was a wonderful visit, though we none of us knew it at the time. We +all fell in love with your mother. I wish she would have fallen in love +with us. She couldn’t bear me, could she?” “I never heard her say so, Aunt Emily.” “No; she wouldn’t. I am sure your father said so, though. My dear boy, don’t look so shocked. Your father and I hated each other. He said so, -I said so, I say so; say so too. Then we shall start fair.--Just a -cocoanut cake.--Agnes, don’t you agree that it’s always best to speak +I said so, I say so; say so too. Then we shall start fair.—Just a +cocoanut cake.—Agnes, don’t you agree that it’s always best to speak out?” “Oh, rather, Mrs. Failing. But I’m shockingly straightforward.” -“So am I,” said the lady. “I like to get down to the bedrock.--Hullo! +“So am I,” said the lady. “I like to get down to the bedrock.—Hullo! Slippers? Slippers in the drawingroom?” A young man had come in silently. Agnes observed with a feeling of @@ -3688,13 +3748,13 @@ He showed his teeth amiably. “How long was that?” asked Mrs. Failing. -“Three years, wasn’t it? Came over from the Ansells--friends.” +“Three years, wasn’t it? Came over from the Ansells—friends.” “How disgraceful, Rickie! Why don’t you come and see me oftener?” He could not retort that she never asked him. -“Agnes will make you come. Oh, let me introduce Mr. Wonham--Miss +“Agnes will make you come. Oh, let me introduce—Mr. Wonham—Miss Pembroke.” “I am deputy hostess,” said Agnes. “May I give you some tea?” @@ -3711,8 +3771,8 @@ gentleman’s clothing. She was anxious not to start with a blunder, and therefore did not talk to the young fellow, but tried to gather what he was from the demeanour of Rickie. -“I am sure, Mrs. Failing, that you need not talk of ‘making’ people come -to Cadover. There will be no difficulty, I should say.” +“I am sure, Mrs. Failing, that you need not talk of ‘making’ people +come to Cadover. There will be no difficulty, I should say.” “Thank you, my dear. Do you know who once said those exact words to me?” @@ -3729,16 +3789,16 @@ yet had such capacities for life.” “Does one generally exclude the other?” asked Rickie. “Unselfish people, as a rule, are deathly dull. They have no colour. -They think of other people because it is easier. They give money because -they are too stupid or too idle to spend it properly on themselves. -That was the beauty of your mother--she gave away, but she also spent on -herself, or tried to.” +They think of other people because it is easier. They give money +because they are too stupid or too idle to spend it properly on +themselves. That was the beauty of your mother—she gave away, but she +also spent on herself, or tried to.” The light faded out of the drawing-room, in spite of it being September and only half-past six. From her low chair Agnes could see the trees by the drive, black against a blackening sky. That drive was half a mile -long, and she was praising its gravelled surface when Rickie called in a -voice of alarm, “I say, when did our train arrive?” +long, and she was praising its gravelled surface when Rickie called in +a voice of alarm, “I say, when did our train arrive?” “Four-six.” @@ -3750,16 +3810,16 @@ know when it got to the station?” “I tell you again it was punctual. I tell you I looked at my watch. I can do no more.” -Agnes was amazed. Was Rickie mad? A minute ago and they were boring each -other over dogs. What had happened? +Agnes was amazed. Was Rickie mad? A minute ago and they were boring +each other over dogs. What had happened? “Now, now! Quarrelling already?” asked Mrs. Failing. The footman, bringing a lamp, lit up two angry faces. -“He says--” +“He says—” -“He says--” +“He says—” “He says we ran over a child.” @@ -3768,17 +3828,17 @@ watch. Your train was late. You couldn’t have got to the station till four-ten.” “I don’t believe it. We had passed the village by four-seven. Agnes, -hadn’t we passed the village? It must have been an express that ran over -the child.” +hadn’t we passed the village? It must have been an express that ran +over the child.” -“Now is it likely”--he appealed to the practical world--“is it likely +“Now is it likely”—he appealed to the practical world—“is it likely that the company would run a stopping train and then an express three minutes after it?” -“A child--” said Rickie. “I can’t believe that the train killed a +“A child—” said Rickie. “I can’t believe that the train killed a child.” He thought of their journey. They were alone in the carriage. -As the train slackened speed he had caught her for a moment in his arms. -The rain beat on the windows, but they were in heaven. +As the train slackened speed he had caught her for a moment in his +arms. The rain beat on the windows, but they were in heaven. “You’ve got to believe it,” said the other, and proceeded to “rub it in.” His healthy, irritable face drew close to Rickie’s. “Two children @@ -3786,16 +3846,16 @@ were kicking and screaming on the Roman crossing. Your train, being late, came down on them. One of them was pulled off the line, but the other was caught. How will you get out of that?” -“And how will you get out of it?” cried Mrs. Failing, turning the tables -on him. “Where’s the child now? What has happened to its soul? You must -know, Agnes, that this young gentleman is a philosopher.” +“And how will you get out of it?” cried Mrs. Failing, turning the +tables on him. “Where’s the child now? What has happened to its soul? +You must know, Agnes, that this young gentleman is a philosopher.” “Oh, drop all that,” said Mr. Wonham, suddenly collapsing. “Drop it? Where? On my nice carpet?” -“I hate philosophy,” remarked Agnes, trying to turn the subject, for she -saw that it made Rickie unhappy. +“I hate philosophy,” remarked Agnes, trying to turn the subject, for +she saw that it made Rickie unhappy. “So do I. But I daren’t say so before Stephen. He despises us women.” @@ -3815,7 +3875,7 @@ temper: she knew it by a certain tremor in his heels. “There wants a bridge,” he exploded. “A bridge instead of all this rotten talk and the level-crossing. It wouldn’t break you to build a -two-arch bridge. Then the child’s soul, as you call it--well, nothing +two-arch bridge. Then the child’s soul, as you call it—well, nothing would have happened to the child at all.” A gust of night air entered, accompanied by rain. The flowers in the @@ -3824,41 +3884,44 @@ Slightly irritated, she ordered him to close the window. + XI + Cadover was not a large house. But it is the largest house with which -this story has dealings, and must always be thought of with respect. It -was built about the year 1800, and favoured the architecture of ancient -Rome--chiefly by means of five lank pilasters, which stretched from the -top of it to the bottom. Between the pilasters was the glass front door, -to the right of them the drawing room windows, to the left of them the -windows of the dining-room, above them a triangular area, which the -better-class servants knew as a “pendiment,” and which had in its middle -a small round hole, according to the usage of Palladio. The classical -note was also sustained by eight grey steps which led from the building -down into the drive, and by an attempt at a formal garden on the -adjoining lawn. The lawn ended in a Ha-ha (“Ha! ha! who shall regard -it?”), and thence the bare land sloped down into the village. The main -garden (walled) was to the left as one faced the house, while to the -right was that laurel avenue, leading up to Mrs. Failing’s arbour. +this story has dealings, and must always be thought of with respect. +It was built about the year 1800, and favoured the architecture of +ancient Rome—chiefly by means of five lank pilasters, which stretched +from the top of it to the bottom. Between the pilasters was the glass +front door, to the right of them the drawing room windows, to the left +of them the windows of the dining-room, above them a triangular area, +which the better-class servants knew as a “pendiment,” and which had in +its middle a small round hole, according to the usage of Palladio. The +classical note was also sustained by eight grey steps which led from +the building down into the drive, and by an attempt at a formal garden +on the adjoining lawn. The lawn ended in a Ha-ha (“Ha! ha! who shall +regard it?”), and thence the bare land sloped down into the village. +The main garden (walled) was to the left as one faced the house, while +to the right was that laurel avenue, leading up to Mrs. Failing’s +arbour. It was a comfortable but not very attractive place, and, to a certain type of mind, its situation was not attractive either. From the distance it showed as a grey box, huddled against evergreens. There -was no mystery about it. You saw it for miles. Its hill had none of the -beetling romance of Devonshire, none of the subtle contours that prelude -a cottage in Kent, but profferred its burden crudely, on a huge bare -palm. “There’s Cadover,” visitors would say. “How small it still looks. -We shall be late for lunch.” And the view from the windows, though -extensive, would not have been accepted by the Royal Academy. A valley, -containing a stream, a road, a railway; over the valley fields of barley -and wurzel, divided by no pretty hedges, and passing into a great and -formless down--this was the outlook, desolate at all times, and almost -terrifying beneath a cloudy sky. The down was called “Cadbury Range” - (“Cocoa Squares” if you were young and funny), because high upon -it--one cannot say “on the top,” there being scarcely any tops -in Wiltshire--because high upon it there stood a double circle of -entrenchments. A bank of grass enclosed a ring of turnips, which +was no mystery about it. You saw it for miles. Its hill had none of +the beetling romance of Devonshire, none of the subtle contours that +prelude a cottage in Kent, but profferred its burden crudely, on a huge +bare palm. “There’s Cadover,” visitors would say. “How small it still +looks. We shall be late for lunch.” And the view from the windows, +though extensive, would not have been accepted by the Royal Academy. +A valley, containing a stream, a road, a railway; over the valley +fields of barley and wurzel, divided by no pretty hedges, and passing +into a great and formless down—this was the outlook, desolate at all +times, and almost terrifying beneath a cloudy sky. The down was called +“Cadbury Range” (“Cocoa Squares” if you were young and funny), because +high upon it—one cannot say “on the top,” there being scarcely any +tops in Wiltshire—because high upon it there stood a double circle +of entrenchments. A bank of grass enclosed a ring of turnips, which enclosed a second bank of grass, which enclosed more turnips, and in the middle of the pattern grew one small tree. British? Roman? Saxon? Danish? The competent reader will decide. The Thompson family knew it @@ -3869,87 +3932,88 @@ having forded the stream and crossed the valley road and the railway, passed up by these entrenchments. The road to London lay half a mile to the right of them. -To complete this survey one must mention the church and the farm, both -of which lay over the stream in Cadford. Between them they ruled the -village, one claiming the souls of the labourers, the other their +To complete this survey one must mention the church and the farm, +both of which lay over the stream in Cadford. Between them they ruled +the village, one claiming the souls of the labourers, the other their bodies. If a man desired other religion or other employment he must -leave. The church lay up by the railway, the farm was down by the water -meadows. The vicar, a gentle charitable man scarcely realized his power, -and never tried to abuse it. Mr. Wilbraham, the agent, was of another -mould. He knew his place, and kept others to theirs: all society seemed -spread before him like a map. The line between the county and the local, -the line between the labourer and the artisan--he knew them all, and -strengthened them with no uncertain touch. Everything with him was -graduated--carefully graduated civility towards his superior, towards -his inferiors carefully graduated incivility. So--for he was a -thoughtful person--so alone, declared he, could things be kept together. +leave. The church lay up by the railway, the farm was down by the +water meadows. The vicar, a gentle charitable man, scarcely realized +his power, and never tried to abuse it. Mr. Wilbraham, the agent, was +of another mould. He knew his place, and kept others to theirs: all +society seemed spread before him like a map. The line between the +county and the local, the line between the labourer and the artisan—he +knew them all, and strengthened them with no uncertain touch. +Everything with him was graduated—carefully graduated civility towards +his superior, towards his inferiors carefully graduated incivility. +So—for he was a thoughtful person—so alone, declared he, could things +be kept together. Perhaps the Comic Muse, to whom so much is now attributed, had caused -his estate to be left to Mr. Failing. Mr. Failing was the author of some -brilliant books on socialism,--that was why his wife married him--and -for twenty-five years he reigned up at Cadover and tried to put his -theories into practice. He believed that things could be kept together -by accenting the similarities, not the differences of men. “We are all -much more alike than we confess,” was one of his favourite speeches. As -a speech it sounded very well, and his wife had applauded; but when it -resulted in hard work, evenings in the reading-rooms, mixed-parties, and -long unobtrusive talks with dull people, she got bored. In her piquant -way she declared that she was not going to love her husband, and -succeeded. He took it quietly, but his brilliancy decreased. His health -grew worse, and he knew that when he died there was no one to carry on -his work. He felt, besides, that he had done very little. Toil as he -would, he had not a practical mind, and could never dispense with Mr. -Wilbraham. For all his tact, he would often stretch out the hand of -brotherhood too soon, or withhold it when it would have been accepted. -Most people misunderstood him, or only understood him when he was dead. -In after years his reign became a golden age; but he counted a few -disciples in his life-time, a few young labourers and tenant farmers, -who swore tempestuously that he was not really a fool. This, he told -himself, was as much as he deserved. +his estate to be left to Mr. Failing. Mr. Failing was the author of +some brilliant books on socialism,—that was why his wife married +him—and for twenty-five years he reigned up at Cadover and tried to +put his theories into practice. He believed that things could be kept +together by accenting the similarities, not the differences of men. +“We are all much more alike than we confess,” was one of his favourite +speeches. As a speech it sounded very well, and his wife had applauded; +but when it resulted in hard work, evenings in the reading-rooms, +mixed-parties, and long unobtrusive talks with dull people, she got +bored. In her piquant way she declared that she was not going to love +her husband, and succeeded. He took it quietly, but his brilliancy +decreased. His health grew worse, and he knew that when he died there +was no one to carry on his work. He felt, besides, that he had done +very little. Toil as he would, he had not a practical mind, and could +never dispense with Mr. Wilbraham. For all his tact, he would often +stretch out the hand of brotherhood too soon, or withhold it when +it would have been accepted. Most people misunderstood him, or only +understood him when he was dead. In after years his reign became a +golden age; but he counted a few disciples in his life-time, a few +young labourers and tenant farmers, who swore tempestuously that he was +not really a fool. This, he told himself, was as much as he deserved. Cadover was inherited by his widow. She tried to sell it; she tried to -let it; but she asked too much, and as it was neither a pretty place nor -fertile, it was left on her hands. With many a groan she settled down -to banishment. Wiltshire people, she declared, were the stupidest in -England. She told them so to their faces, which made them no brighter. -And their county was worthy of them: no distinction in it--no -style--simply land. +let it; but she asked too much, and as it was neither a pretty place +nor fertile, it was left on her hands. With many a groan she settled +down to banishment. Wiltshire people, she declared, were the stupidest +in England. She told them so to their faces, which made them no +brighter. And their county was worthy of them: no distinction in it—no +style—simply land. But her wrath passed, or remained only as a graceful fretfulness. She made the house comfortable, and abandoned the farm to Mr. Wilbraham. With a good deal of care she selected a small circle of acquaintances, -and had them to stop in the summer months. In the winter she would go to -town and frequent the salons of the literary. As her lameness increased -she moved about less, and at the time of her nephew’s visit seldom left -the place that had been forced upon her as a home. Just now she -was busy. A prominent politician had quoted her husband. The young -generation asked, “Who is this Mr. Failing?” and the publishers wrote, -“Now is the time.” She was collecting some essays and penning an +and had them to stop in the summer months. In the winter she would +go to town and frequent the salons of the literary. As her lameness +increased she moved about less, and at the time of her nephew’s visit +seldom left the place that had been forced upon her as a home. Just +now she was busy. A prominent politician had quoted her husband. The +young generation asked, “Who is this Mr. Failing?” and the publishers +wrote, “Now is the time.” She was collecting some essays and penning an introductory memoir. -Rickie admired his aunt, but did not care for her. She reminded him too -much of his father. She had the same affliction, the same heartlessness, -the same habit of taking life with a laugh--as if life is a pill! He -also felt that she had neglected him. He would not have asked much: as -for “prospects,” they never entered his head, but she was his only near -relative, and a little kindness and hospitality during the lonely years -would have made incalculable difference. Now that he was happier and -could bring her Agnes, she had asked him to stop at once. The sun as it -rose next morning spoke to him of a new life. He too had a purpose and -a value in the world at last. Leaning out of the window, he gazed at the -earth washed clean and heard through the pure air the distant noises of -the farm. - -But that day nothing was to remain divine but the weather. His aunt, for -reasons of her own, decreed that he should go for a ride with the Wonham -boy. They were to look at Old Sarum, proceed thence to Salisbury, lunch -there, see the sights, call on a certain canon for tea, and return to -Cadover in the evening. The arrangement suited no one. He did not want -to ride, but to be with Agnes; nor did Agnes want to be parted from him, -nor Stephen to go with him. But the clearer the wishes of her guests -became, the more determined was Mrs. Failing to disregard them. She -smoothed away every difficulty, she converted every objection into a -reason, and she ordered the horses for half-past nine. +Rickie admired his aunt, but did not care for her. She reminded +him too much of his father. She had the same affliction, the same +heartlessness, the same habit of taking life with a laugh—as if life +is a pill! He also felt that she had neglected him. He would not have +asked much: as for “prospects,” they never entered his head, but she +was his only near relative, and a little kindness and hospitality +during the lonely years would have made incalculable difference. Now +that he was happier and could bring her Agnes, she had asked him to +stop at once. The sun as it rose next morning spoke to him of a new +life. He too had a purpose and a value in the world at last. Leaning +out of the window, he gazed at the earth washed clean and heard through +the pure air the distant noises of the farm. + +But that day nothing was to remain divine but the weather. His aunt, +for reasons of her own, decreed that he should go for a ride with +the Wonham boy. They were to look at Old Sarum, proceed thence to +Salisbury, lunch there, see the sights, call on a certain canon for +tea, and return to Cadover in the evening. The arrangement suited no +one. He did not want to ride, but to be with Agnes; nor did Agnes want +to be parted from him, nor Stephen to go with him. But the clearer the +wishes of her guests became, the more determined was Mrs. Failing to +disregard them. She smoothed away every difficulty, she converted every +objection into a reason, and she ordered the horses for half-past nine. “It is a bore,” he grumbled as he sat in their little private sitting-room, breaking his finger-nails upon the coachman’s gaiters. “I @@ -3975,7 +4039,7 @@ be kind to you this morning. I hate leaving you with her.” “Why, you say she likes me.” -“Yes, but that wouldn’t prevent--you see she doesn’t mind what she says +“Yes, but that wouldn’t prevent—you see she doesn’t mind what she says or what she repeats if it amuses her. If she thought it really funny, for instance, to break off our engagement, she’d try.” @@ -3993,7 +4057,7 @@ insecurity.” “If any one says or does a foolish thing it’s always here. All the family breezes have started here. It’s a kind of focus for aimed and aimless scandal. You know, when my father and mother had their special -quarrel, my aunt was mixed up in it,--I never knew how or how much--but +quarrel, my aunt was mixed up in it,—I never knew how or how much—but you may be sure she didn’t calm things down, unless she found things more entertaining calm.” @@ -4004,11 +4068,11 @@ impatient.” “It’s a horrible habit.” “The habit of the country, Agnes. Ugh, this gossip!” Suddenly he flung -his arms over her. “Dear--dear--let’s beware of I don’t know what--of +his arms over her. “Dear—dear—let’s beware of I don’t know what—of nothing at all perhaps.” “Oh, buck up!” yelled the irritable Stephen. “Which am I to -shorten--left stirrup or right?” +shorten—left stirrup or right?” “Left!” shouted Agnes. @@ -4019,8 +4083,8 @@ I’m prepared. Your aunt will get nothing out of me.” Her betrothed tried to mount with the wrong foot according to his invariable custom. She also had to pick up his whip. At last they -started, the boy showing off pretty consistently, and she was left alone -with her hostess. +started, the boy showing off pretty consistently, and she was left +alone with her hostess. “Dido is quiet as a lamb,” said Mrs. Failing, “and Stephen is a good fielder. What a blessing it is to have cleared out the men. What shall @@ -4032,14 +4096,16 @@ you and I do this heavenly morning?” “Yes.” -“Any letters to write?” No. +“Any letters to write?” + +“No.” “Then let’s go to my arbour. No, we won’t. It gets the morning sun, and it’ll be too hot today.” Already she regretted clearing out the men. On such a morning she would have liked to drive, but her third animal had gone lame. She feared, too, that Miss Pembroke was going to bore her. -However, they did go to the arbour. In languid tones she pointed out the -various objects of interest. +However, they did go to the arbour. In languid tones she pointed out +the various objects of interest. “There’s the Cad, which goes into the something, which goes into the Avon. Cadbury Rings opposite, Cadchurch to the extreme left: you can’t @@ -4053,7 +4119,7 @@ Wiltshire mind.” Mrs. Failing divided her guests into those who made this joke and those who did not. The latter class was very small. -“The vicar of Cadford--not the nice drunkard--declares the name is +“The vicar of Cadford—not the nice drunkard—declares the name is really ‘Chadford,’ and he worried on till I put up a window to St. Chad in our church. His Cambridge wife pronounces it ‘Hyadford.’ I could smack them both. How do you like Podge? Ah! you jump; I meant you to. @@ -4063,18 +4129,18 @@ How do you like Podge Wonham?” “Nice! He is a hero.” -There was a long interval of silence. Each lady looked, without much -interest, at the view. Mrs. Failing’s attitude towards Nature was -severely aesthetic--an attitude more sterile than the severely -practical. She applied the test of beauty to shadow and odour and sound; -they never filled her with reverence or excitement; she never knew them -as a resistless trinity that may intoxicate the worshipper with joy. If -she liked a ploughed field, it was only as a spot of colour--not also as -a hint of the endless strength of the earth. And today she could approve -of one cloud, but object to its fellow. As for Miss Pembroke, she was -not approving or objecting at all. “A hero?” she queried, when the -interval had passed. Her voice was indifferent, as if she had been -thinking of other things. +There was a long interval of silence. Each lady looked, without +much interest, at the view. Mrs. Failing’s attitude towards Nature +was severely aesthetic—an attitude more sterile than the severely +practical. She applied the test of beauty to shadow and odour and +sound; they never filled her with reverence or excitement; she never +knew them as a resistless trinity that may intoxicate the worshipper +with joy. If she liked a ploughed field, it was only as a spot of +colour—not also as a hint of the endless strength of the earth. And +today she could approve of one cloud, but object to its fellow. As for +Miss Pembroke, she was not approving or objecting at all. “A hero?” she +queried, when the interval had passed. Her voice was indifferent, as if +she had been thinking of other things. “A hero? Yes. Didn’t you notice how heroic he was?” @@ -4084,11 +4150,11 @@ thinking of other things. their great time. They live up to the stiffness of their shirt fronts. Do you mean to say that you never noticed how he set down Rickie?” -“Oh, that about poetry!” said Agnes, laughing. “Rickie would not mind it -for a moment. But why do you single out that as heroic?” +“Oh, that about poetry!” said Agnes, laughing. “Rickie would not mind +it for a moment. But why do you single out that as heroic?” -“To snub people! to set them down! to be rude to them! to make them feel -small! Surely that’s the lifework of a hero?” +“To snub people! to set them down! to be rude to them! to make them +feel small! Surely that’s the lifework of a hero?” “I shouldn’t have said that. And as a matter of fact Mr. Wonham was wrong over the poetry. I made Rickie look it up afterwards.” @@ -4096,16 +4162,16 @@ wrong over the poetry. I made Rickie look it up afterwards.” “But of course. A hero always is wrong.” “To me,” she persisted, rather gently, “a hero has always been a strong -wonderful being, who champions--” +wonderful being, who champions—” -“Ah, wait till you are the dragon! I have been a dragon most of my life, -I think. A dragon that wants nothing but a peaceful cave. Then in -comes the strong, wonderful, delightful being, and gains a princess -by piercing my hide. No, seriously, my dear Agnes, the chief +“Ah, wait till you are the dragon! I have been a dragon most of my +life, I think. A dragon that wants nothing but a peaceful cave. +Then in comes the strong, wonderful, delightful being, and gains a +princess by piercing my hide. No, seriously, my dear Agnes, the chief characteristics of a hero are infinite disregard for the feelings of others, plus general inability to understand them.” -“But surely Mr. Wonham--” +“But surely Mr. Wonham—” “Yes; aren’t we being unkind to the poor boy. Ought we to go on talking?” @@ -4125,21 +4191,21 @@ thinking of other things, and another boy.” “But do think for a moment of Stephen. I will describe how he spent yesterday. He rose at eight. From eight to eleven he sang. The song was -called, ‘Father’s boots will soon fit Willie.’ He stopped once to say to -the footman, ‘She’ll never finish her book. She idles: ‘She’ being I. At -eleven he went out, and stood in the rain till four, but had the luck -to see a child run over at the level-crossing. By half-past four he had -knocked the bottom out of Christianity.” +called, ‘Father’s boots will soon fit Willie.’ He stopped once to say +to the footman, ‘She’ll never finish her book. She idles: ‘She’ being +I. At eleven he went out, and stood in the rain till four, but had the +luck to see a child run over at the level-crossing. By half-past four +he had knocked the bottom out of Christianity.” Agnes looked bewildered. -“Aren’t you impressed? I was. I told him that he was on no account to -unsettle the vicar. Open that cupboard, one of those sixpenny books -tells Podge that he’s made of hard little black things, another +“Aren’t you impressed? I was. I told him that he was on no account +to unsettle the vicar. Open that cupboard, one of those sixpenny +books tells Podge that he’s made of hard little black things, another that he’s made of brown things, larger and squashy. There seems a discrepancy, but anything is better for a thoughtful youth than to be made in the Garden of Eden. Let us eliminate the poetic, at whatever -cost to the probable.” When for a moment she spoke more gravely. “Here +cost to the probable.” Then for a moment she spoke more gravely. “Here he is at twenty, with nothing to hold on by. I don’t know what’s to be done. I suppose it’s my fault. But I’ve never had any bother over the Church of England; have you?” @@ -4152,25 +4218,25 @@ consult a man.” “Rickie would do anything he can.” And Mrs. Failing noted the half official way in which she vouched for her lover. “But of course Rickie -is a little--complicated. I doubt whether Mr. Wonham would understand -him. He wants--doesn’t he?--some one who’s a little more assertive and +is a little—complicated. I doubt whether Mr. Wonham would understand +him. He wants—doesn’t he?—some one who’s a little more assertive and more accustomed to boys. Some one more like my brother.” “Agnes!” she seized her by the arm. “Do you suppose that Mr. Pembroke would undertake my Podge?” She shook her head. “His time is so filled up. He gets a boarding-house -next term. Besides--after all I don’t know what Herbert would do.” +next term. Besides—after all I don’t know what Herbert would do.” -“Morality. He would teach him morality. The Thirty-Nine Articles -may come of themselves, but if you have no morals you come to grief. +“Morality. He would teach him morality. The Thirty-Nine Articles may +come of themselves, but if you have no morals you come to grief. Morality is all I demand from Mr. Herbert Pembroke. He shall be excused -the use of the globes. You know, of course, that Stephen’s expelled from -a public school? He stole.” +the use of the globes. You know, of course, that Stephen’s expelled +from a public school? He stole.” The school was not a public one, and the expulsion, or rather request -for removal, had taken place when Stephen was fourteen. A violent -spasm of dishonesty--such as often heralds the approach of manhood--had +for removal, had taken place when Stephen was fourteen. A violent spasm +of dishonesty—such as often heralds the approach of manhood—had overcome him. He stole everything, especially what was difficult to steal, and hid the plunder beneath a loose plank in the passage. He was betrayed by the inclusion of a ham. This was the crisis of his career. @@ -4180,27 +4246,27 @@ through. But she was so raged with the letters of the schoolmaster, and so delighted with those of the criminal, that she had him back and gave him a prize. -“No,” said Agnes, “I didn’t know. I should be happy to speak to Herbert, -but, as I said, his time will be very full. But I know he has friends -who make a speciality of weakly or--or unusual boys.” +“No,” said Agnes, “I didn’t know. I should be happy to speak to +Herbert, but, as I said, his time will be very full. But I know he has +friends who make a speciality of weakly or—or unusual boys.” “My dear, I’ve tried it. Stephen kicked the weakly boys and robbed apples with the unusual ones. He was expelled again.” Agnes began to find Mrs. Failing rather tiresome. Wherever you trod on -her, she seemed to slip away from beneath your feet. Agnes liked to know -where she was and where other people were as well. She said: “My brother -thinks a great deal of home life. I daresay he’d think that Mr. Wonham -is best where he is--with you. You have been so kind to him. You”--she -paused--“have been to him both father and mother.” +her, she seemed to slip away from beneath your feet. Agnes liked to +know where she was and where other people were as well. She said: “My +brother thinks a great deal of home life. I daresay he’d think that Mr. +Wonham is best where he is—with you. You have been so kind to him. +You”—she paused—“have been to him both father and mother.” “I’m too hot,” was Mrs. Failing’s reply. It seemed that Miss Pembroke had at last touched a topic on which she was reticent. She rang the -electric bell,--it was only to tell the footman to take the reprints to -Mr. Wonham’s room,--and then murmuring something about work, proceeded +electric bell,—it was only to tell the footman to take the reprints to +Mr. Wonham’s room,—and then murmuring something about work, proceeded herself to the house. -“Mrs. Failing--” said Agnes, who had not expected such a speedy end to +“Mrs. Failing—” said Agnes, who had not expected such a speedy end to their chat. “Call me Aunt Emily. My dear?” @@ -4213,31 +4279,33 @@ her. + XII -The excursion to Salisbury was but a poor business--in fact, Rickie + +The excursion to Salisbury was but a poor business—in fact, Rickie never got there. They were not out of the drive before Mr. Wonham began -doing acrobatics. He showed Rickie how very quickly he could turn round -in his saddle and sit with his face to Aeneas’s tail. “I see,” said -Rickie coldly, and became almost cross when they arrived in this +doing acrobatics. He showed Rickie how very quickly he could turn +round in his saddle and sit with his face to Æneas’s tail. “I see,” +said Rickie coldly, and became almost cross when they arrived in this condition at the gate behind the house, for he had to open it, and was -afraid of falling. As usual, he anchored just beyond the fastenings, and -then had to turn Dido, who seemed as long as a battleship. To his relief -a man came forward, and murmuring, “Worst gate in the parish,” pushed it -wide and held it respectfully. “Thank you,” cried Rickie; “many -thanks.” But Stephen, who was riding into the world back first, said -majestically, “No, no; it doesn’t count. You needn’t think it does. You -make it worse by touching your hat. Four hours and seven minutes! You’ll -see me again.” The man answered nothing. +afraid of falling. As usual, he anchored just beyond the fastenings, +and then had to turn Dido, who seemed as long as a battleship. To his +relief a man came forward, and murmuring, “Worst gate in the parish,” +pushed it wide and held it respectfully. “Thank you,” cried Rickie; +“many thanks.” But Stephen, who was riding into the world back first, +said majestically, “No, no; it doesn’t count. You needn’t think it +does. You make it worse by touching your hat. Four hours and seven +minutes! You’ll see me again.” The man answered nothing. “Eh, but I’ll hurt him,” he chanted, as he swung into position. “That was Flea. Eh, but he’s forgotten my fists; eh, but I’ll hurt him.” “Why?” ventured Rickie. Last night, over cigarettes, he had been bored to death by the story of Flea. The boy had a little reminded him of -Gerald--the Gerald of history, not the Gerald of romance. He was more -genial, but there was the same brutality, the same peevish insistence on -the pound of flesh. +Gerald—the Gerald of history, not the Gerald of romance. He was more +genial, but there was the same brutality, the same peevish insistence +on the pound of flesh. “Hurt him till he learns.” @@ -4245,7 +4313,7 @@ the pound of flesh. “Learns, of course,” retorted Stephen. Neither of them was very civil. They did not dislike each other, but they each wanted to be somewhere -else--exactly the situation that Mrs. Failing had expected. +else—exactly the situation that Mrs. Failing had expected. “He behaved badly,” said Rickie, “because he is poorer than we are, and more ignorant. Less money has been spent on teaching him to behave.” @@ -4256,8 +4324,8 @@ more ignorant. Less money has been spent on teaching him to behave.” “They aren’t. I looked.” -After this conversation flagged. Rickie glanced back at Cadover, -and thought of the insipid day that lay before him. Generally he was +After this conversation flagged. Rickie glanced back at Cadover, and +thought of the insipid day that lay before him. Generally he was attracted by fresh people, and Stephen was almost fresh: they had been to him symbols of the unknown, and all that they did was interesting. But now he cared for the unknown no longer. He knew. @@ -4270,15 +4338,15 @@ employer’s nephew. Stephen he ignored: he could not find him on the map. “I say,” called the other, “another child dead!” Mr. Wilbraham, who had seemed inclined to chat, whipped up his horse and left them. -“There goes an out and outer,” said Stephen; and then, as if introducing -an entirely new subject--“Don’t you think Flea Thompson treated me -disgracefully?” +“There goes an out and outer,” said Stephen; and then, as if +introducing an entirely new subject—“Don’t you think Flea Thompson +treated me disgracefully?” “I suppose he did. But I’m scarcely the person to sympathize.” The allusion fell flat, and he had to explain it. “I should have done the -same myself,--promised to be away two hours, and stopped four.” +same myself,—promised to be away two hours, and stopped four.” -“Stopped-oh--oh, I understand. You being in love, you mean?” +“Stopped—oh—oh, I understand. You being in love, you mean?” He smiled and nodded. @@ -4293,30 +4361,30 @@ to sack him. I promise you when I’ve a girl I’ll keep her in line, and if she turns nasty, I’ll get another.” Rickie smiled and said no more. But he was sorry that any one should -start life with such a creed--all the more sorry because the creed -caricatured his own. He too believed that life should be in a line--a +start life with such a creed—all the more sorry because the creed +caricatured his own. He too believed that life should be in a line—a line of enormous length, full of countless interests and countless figures, all well beloved. But woman was not to be “kept” to this line. Rather did she advance it continually, like some triumphant general, -making each unit still more interesting, still more lovable, than it had -been before. He loved Agnes, not only for herself, but because she was -lighting up the human world. But he could scarcely explain this to an -inexperienced animal, nor did he make the attempt. +making each unit still more interesting, still more lovable, than it +had been before. He loved Agnes, not only for herself, but because she +was lighting up the human world. But he could scarcely explain this to +an inexperienced animal, nor did he make the attempt. For a long time they proceeded in silence. The hill behind Cadover was in harvest, and the horses moved regretfully between the sheaves. Stephen had picked a grass leaf, and was blowing catcalls upon it. He -blew very well, and this morning all his soul went into the wail. For he -was ill. He was tortured with the feeling that he could not get away -and do--do something, instead of being civil to this anaemic prig. Four +blew very well, and this morning all his soul went into the wail. For +he was ill. He was tortured with the feeling that he could not get away +and do—do something, instead of being civil to this anaemic prig. Four hours in the rain was better than this: he had not wanted to fidget in -the rain. But now the air was like wine, and the stubble was smelling of -wet, and over his head white clouds trundled more slowly and more seldom -through broadening tracts of blue. There never had been such a morning, -and he shut up his eyes and called to it. And whenever he called, Rickie -shut up his eyes and winced. +the rain. But now the air was like wine, and the stubble was smelling +of wet, and over his head white clouds trundled more slowly and more +seldom through broadening tracts of blue. There never had been such +a morning, and he shut up his eyes and called to it. And whenever he +called, Rickie shut up his eyes and winced. -At last the blade broke. “We don’t go quick, do we” he remarked, and +At last the blade broke. “We don’t go quick, do we?” he remarked, and looked on the weedy track for another. “I wish you wouldn’t let me keep you. If you were alone you would be @@ -4328,49 +4396,49 @@ Miss Pembroke not to hurry.” “Well, I’ll disobey.” But he could not rise above a gentle trot, and even that nearly jerked him out of the saddle. -“Sit like this,” said Stephen. “Can’t you see like this?” Rickie lurched -forward, and broke his thumb nail on the horse’s neck. It bled a little, -and had to be bound up. +“Sit like _this_,” said Stephen. “Can’t you—see like _this_?” Rickie +lurched forward, and broke his thumb nail on the horse’s neck. It bled +a little, and had to be bound up. -“Thank you--awfully kind--no tighter, please--I’m simply spoiling your +“Thank you—awfully kind—no tighter, please—I’m simply spoiling your day.” -“I can’t think how a man can help riding. You’ve only to leave it to the -horse so!--so!--just as you leave it to water in swimming.” +“I can’t think how a man can help riding. You’ve only to leave it to +the horse so!—so!—just as you leave it to water in swimming.” Rickie left it to Dido, who stopped immediately. -“I said LEAVE it.” His voice rose irritably. “I didn’t say ‘die.’ Of -course she stops if you die. First you sit her as if you’re Sandow +“I said _leave_ it.” His voice rose irritably. “I didn’t say ‘die.’ +Of course she stops if you die. First you sit her as if you’re Sandow exercising, and then you sit like a corpse. Can’t you tell her you’re alive? That’s all she wants.” In trying to convey the information, Rickie dropped his whip. Stephen -picked it up and rammed it into the belt of his own Norfolk jacket. He -was scarcely a fashionable horseman. He was not even graceful. But he -rode as a living man, though Rickie was too much bored to notice it. Not -a muscle in him was idle, not a muscle working hard. When he returned -from the gallop his limbs were still unsatisfied and his manners still -irritable. He did not know that he was ill: he knew nothing about -himself at all. +picked it up and rammed it into the belt of his own Norfolk jacket. +He was scarcely a fashionable horseman. He was not even graceful. But +he rode as a living man, though Rickie was too much bored to notice +it. Not a muscle in him was idle, not a muscle working hard. When he +returned from the gallop his limbs were still unsatisfied and his +manners still irritable. He did not know that he was ill: he knew +nothing about himself at all. “Like a howdah in the Zoo,” he grumbled. “Mother Failing will buy elephants.” And he proceeded to criticize his benefactress. Rickie, keenly alive to bad taste, tried to stop him, and gained instead a criticism of religion. Stephen overthrew the Mosaic cosmogony. He pointed out the discrepancies in the Gospels. He levelled his wit -against the most beautiful spire in the world, now rising against the -southern sky. Between whiles he went for a gallop. After a time Rickie -stopped listening, and simply went his way. For Dido was a perfect -mount, and as indifferent to the motions of Aeneas as if she was -strolling in the Elysian fields. He had had a bad night, and the strong -air made him sleepy. The wind blew from the Plain. Cadover and its -valley had disappeared, and though they had not climbed much and could -not see far, there was a sense of infinite space. The fields were -enormous, like fields on the Continent, and the brilliant sun showed up -their colours well. The green of the turnips, the gold of the harvest, -and the brown of the newly turned clods, were each contrasted with -morsels of grey down. But the general effect was pale, or rather +against the most beautiful spire in the world, now rising against +the southern sky. Between whiles he went for a gallop. After a time +Rickie stopped listening, and simply went his way. For Dido was a +perfect mount, and as indifferent to the motions of Æneas as if she +was strolling in the Elysian fields. He had had a bad night, and the +strong air made him sleepy. The wind blew from the Plain. Cadover and +its valley had disappeared, and though they had not climbed much and +could not see far, there was a sense of infinite space. The fields +were enormous, like fields on the Continent, and the brilliant sun +showed up their colours well. The green of the turnips, the gold of the +harvest, and the brown of the newly turned clods, were each contrasted +with morsels of grey down. But the general effect was pale, or rather silvery, for Wiltshire is not a county of heavy tints. Beneath these colours lurked the unconquerable chalk, and wherever the soil was poor it emerged. The grassy track, so gay with scabious and bedstraw, was @@ -4381,50 +4449,50 @@ embankments, little ditches, little mounds: there had been no lack of drama to solace the gods. In Cadover, the perilous house, Agnes had already parted from Mrs. -Failing. His thoughts returned to her. Was she, the soul of truth, in -safety? Was her purity vexed by the lies and selfishness? Would she -elude the caprice which had, he vaguely knew, caused suffering before? -Ah, the frailty of joy! Ah, the myriads of longings that pass without -fruition, and the turf grows over them! Better men, women as noble--they -had died up here and their dust had been mingled, but only their dust. -These are morbid thoughts, but who dare contradict them? There is much -good luck in the world, but it is luck. We are none of us safe. We -are children, playing or quarreling on the line, and some of us have -Rickie’s temperament, or his experiences, and admit it. +Failing. His thoughts returned to her. Was she, the soul of truth, +in safety? Was her purity vexed by the lies and selfishness? Would +she elude the caprice which had, he vaguely knew, caused suffering +before? Ah, the frailty of joy! Ah, the myriads of longings that pass +without fruition, and the turf grows over them! Better men, women as +noble—they had died up here and their dust had been mingled, but only +their dust. These are morbid thoughts, but who dare contradict them? +There is much good luck in the world, but it is luck. We are none of us +safe. We are children, playing or quarreling on the line, and some of +us have Rickie’s temperament, or his experiences, and admit it. So he mused, that anxious little speck, and all the land seemed to comment on his fears and on his love. Their path lay upward, over a great bald skull, half grass, half -stubble. It seemed each moment there would be a splendid view. The view -never came, for none of the inclines were sharp enough, and they -moved over the skull for many minutes, scarcely shifting a landmark or -altering the blue fringe of the distance. The spire of Salisbury did -alter, but very slightly, rising and falling like the mercury in a -thermometer. At the most it would be half hidden; at the least the +stubble. It seemed each moment there would be a splendid view. The +view never came, for none of the inclines were sharp enough, and they +moved over the skull for many minutes, scarcely shifting a landmark +or altering the blue fringe of the distance. The spire of Salisbury +did alter, but very slightly, rising and falling like the mercury in +a thermometer. At the most it would be half hidden; at the least the tip would show behind the swelling barrier of earth. They passed two -elder-trees--a great event. The bare patch, said Stephen, was owing to -the gallows. Rickie nodded. He had lost all sense of incident. In this -great solitude--more solitary than any Alpine range--he and Agnes +elder-trees—a great event. The bare patch, said Stephen, was owing +to the gallows. Rickie nodded. He had lost all sense of incident. In +this great solitude—more solitary than any Alpine range—he and Agnes were floating alone and for ever, between the shapeless earth and the -shapeless clouds. An immense silence seemed to move towards them. A lark -stopped singing, and they were glad of it. They were approaching the -Throne of God. The silence touched them; the earth and all danger +shapeless clouds. An immense silence seemed to move towards them. A +lark stopped singing, and they were glad of it. They were approaching +the Throne of God. The silence touched them; the earth and all danger dissolved, but ere they quite vanished Rickie heard himself saying, “Is it exactly what we intended?” “Yes,” said a man’s voice; “it’s the old plan.” They were in another valley. Its sides were thick with trees. Down it ran another stream and another road: it, too, sheltered a string of villages. But all -was richer, larger, and more beautiful--the valley of the Avon below +was richer, larger, and more beautiful—the valley of the Avon below Amesbury. “I’ve been asleep!” said Rickie, in awestruck tones. “Never!” said the other facetiously. “Pleasant dreams?” -“Perhaps--I’m really tired of apologizing to you. How long have you been -holding me on?” +“Perhaps—I’m really tired of apologizing to you. How long have you +been holding me on?” “All in the day’s work.” He gave him back the reins. @@ -4432,35 +4500,35 @@ holding me on?” “Gone where the good niggers go. I want a drink.” -This is Nature’s joke in Wiltshire--her one joke. You toil on windy -slopes, and feel very primeval. You are miles from your fellows, and lo! -a little valley full of elms and cottages. Before Rickie had waked up to -it, they had stopped by a thatched public-house, and Stephen was yelling -like a maniac for beer. +This is Nature’s joke in Wiltshire—her one joke. You toil on windy +slopes, and feel very primeval. You are miles from your fellows, and +lo! a little valley full of elms and cottages. Before Rickie had waked +up to it, they had stopped by a thatched public-house, and Stephen was +yelling like a maniac for beer. There was no occasion to yell. He was not very thirsty, and they were -quite ready to serve him. Nor need he have drunk in the saddle, with the -air of a warrior who carries important dispatches and has not the time -to dismount. A real soldier, bound on a similar errand, rode up to the -inn, and Stephen feared that he would yell louder, and was hostile. But -they made friends and treated each other, and slanged the proprietor and -ragged the pretty girls; while Rickie, as each wave of vulgarity burst -over him, sunk his head lower and lower, and wished that the earth -would swallow him up. He was only used to Cambridge, and to a very small -corner of that. He and his friends there believed in free speech. -But they spoke freely about generalities. They were scientific and -philosophic. They would have shrunk from the empirical freedom that -results from a little beer. +quite ready to serve him. Nor need he have drunk in the saddle, with +the air of a warrior who carries important dispatches and has not the +time to dismount. A real soldier, bound on a similar errand, rode up +to the inn, and Stephen feared that he would yell louder, and was +hostile. But they made friends and treated each other, and slanged the +proprietor and ragged the pretty girls; while Rickie, as each wave of +vulgarity burst over him, sunk his head lower and lower, and wished +that the earth would swallow him up. He was only used to Cambridge, +and to a very small corner of that. He and his friends there believed +in free speech. But they spoke freely about generalities. They were +scientific and philosophic. They would have shrunk from the empirical +freedom that results from a little beer. That was what annoyed him as he rode down the new valley with two chattering companions. He was more skilled than they were in the principles of human existence, but he was not so indecently familiar -with the examples. A sordid village scandal--such as Stephen described -as a huge joke--sprang from certain defects in human nature, with which +with the examples. A sordid village scandal—such as Stephen described +as a huge joke—sprang from certain defects in human nature, with which he was theoretically acquainted. But the example! He blushed at it like -a maiden lady, in spite of its having a parallel in a beautiful idyll of -Theocritus. Was experience going to be such a splendid thing after all? -Were the outside of houses so very beautiful? +a maiden lady, in spite of its having a parallel in a beautiful idyll +of Theocritus. Was experience going to be such a splendid thing after +all? Were the outside of houses so very beautiful? “That’s spicy!” the soldier was saying. “Got any more like that?” @@ -4470,14 +4538,15 @@ majestic. “Write this yourself?” he asked, chuckling. -“Rather,” said Stephen, lowering his head and kissing Aeneas between the -ears. +“Rather,” said Stephen, lowering his head and kissing Æneas between +the ears. “But who’s old Em’ly?” Rickie winced and frowned. “Now you’re asking. -“Old Em’ly she limps, And as--” + “‘Old Em’ly she limps, + And as——’” “I am so tired,” said Rickie. Why should he stand it any longer? @@ -4488,10 +4557,10 @@ Salisbury?” “I shouldn’t enjoy anything, I am so absurdly tired.” -“Left turn, then--all in the day’s work.” He bit at his moustache +“Left turn, then—all in the day’s work.” He bit at his moustache angrily. -“Good gracious me, man!--of course I’m going back alone. I’m not going +“Good gracious me, man!—of course I’m going back alone. I’m not going to spoil your day. How could you think it of me?” Stephen gave a loud sigh of relief. “If you do want to go home, here’s @@ -4500,75 +4569,77 @@ ructions.” “Certainly. Thank you for your kind care of me.” -“‘Old Em’ly she limps, And as--’” + “‘Old Em’ly she limps, + And as——’” -Soon he was out of earshot. Soon they were lost to view. Soon they were -out of his thoughts. He forgot the coarseness and the drinking and the -ingratitude. A few months ago he would not have forgotten so quickly, -and he might also have detected something else. But a lover is dogmatic. -To him the world shall be beautiful and pure. When it is not, he ignores -it. +Soon he was out of earshot. Soon they were lost to view. Soon they +were out of his thoughts. He forgot the coarseness and the drinking +and the ingratitude. A few months ago he would not have forgotten so +quickly, and he might also have detected something else. But a lover is +dogmatic. To him the world shall be beautiful and pure. When it is not, +he ignores it. “He’s not tired,” said Stephen to the soldier; “he wants his girl.” And -they winked at each other, and cracked jokes over the eternal comedy of -love. They asked each other if they’d let a girl spoil a morning’s ride. -They both exhibited a profound cynicism. Stephen, who was quite without -ballast, described the household at Cadover: he should say that Rickie -would find Miss Pembroke kissing the footman. +they winked at each other, and cracked jokes over the eternal comedy +of love. They asked each other if they’d let a girl spoil a morning’s +ride. They both exhibited a profound cynicism. Stephen, who was quite +without ballast, described the household at Cadover: he should say that +Rickie would find Miss Pembroke kissing the footman. “I say the footman’s kissing old Em’ly.” “Jolly day,” said Stephen. His voice was suddenly constrained. He was -not sure whether he liked the soldier after all, nor whether he had been -wise in showing him his compositions. +not sure whether he liked the soldier after all, nor whether he had +been wise in showing him his compositions. -“‘Old Em’ly she limps, And as--’” + “‘Old Em’ly she limps, + And as I——’” “All right, Thomas. That’ll do.” -“Old Em’ly--’” + “‘Old Em’ly——’” “I wish you’d dry up, like a good fellow. This is the lady’s horse, you know, hang it, after all.” “In-deed!” -“Don’t you see--when a fellow’s on a horse, he can’t let another -fellow--kind of--don’t you know?” +“Don’t you see—when a fellow’s on a horse, he can’t let another +fellow—kind of—don’t you know?” The man did know. “There’s sense in that.” he said approvingly. Peace was restored, and they would have reached Salisbury if they had not had -some more beer. It unloosed the soldier’s fancies, and again he spoke of -old Em’ly, and recited the poem, with Aristophanic variations. +some more beer. It unloosed the soldier’s fancies, and again he spoke +of old Em’ly, and recited the poem, with Aristophanic variations. “Jolly day,” repeated Stephen, with a straightening of the eyebrows -and a quick glance at the other’s body. He then warned him against -the variations. In consequence he was accused of being a member of the +and a quick glance at the other’s body. He then warned him against the +variations. In consequence he was accused of being a member of the Y.M.C.A. His blood boiled at this. He refuted the charge, and became great friends with the soldier, for the third time. -“Any objection to ‘Saucy Mr. and Mrs. Tackleton’?” +“Any objection to ‘Sorcy Mr. and Mrs. Tackleton’?” “Rather not.” The soldier sang “Saucy Mr. and Mrs. Tackleton.” It is really a work -for two voices, most of the sauciness disappearing when taken as a solo. -Nor is Mrs. Tackleton’s name Em’lv. +for two voices, most of the sauciness disappearing when taken as a +solo. Nor is Mrs. Tackleton’s name Em’ly. “I call it a jolly rotten song,” said Stephen crossly. “I won’t stand being got at.” “P’r’aps y’like therold song. Lishen. - “‘Of all the gulls that arsshmart, - There’s none line pretty--Em’ly; - For she’s the darling of merart’” + “‘Of all the gulls that arsshmart, + There’s none line pretty—Em’ly; + For she’s the darling of merart——’” “Now, that’s wrong.” He rode up close to the singer. “Shright.” -“‘Tisn’t.” +“’Tisn’t.” “It’s as my mother taught me.” @@ -4583,73 +4654,74 @@ Stephen was baffled. Then he said, “How does your mother make it rhyme?” “Squat. You’re an ass, and I’m not. Poems want rhymes. ‘Alley’ comes next line.” -He said “alley” was--welcome to come if it liked. +He said “alley” was—welcome to come if it liked. -“It can’t. You want Sally. Sally--alley. Em’ly-alley doesn’t do.” +“It can’t. You want Sally. Sally—alley. Em’ly—alley doesn’t do.” -“Emily-femily!” cried the soldier, with an inspiration that was not his +“Emily—femily!” cried the soldier, with an inspiration that was not his when sober. “My mother taught me femily. -“‘For she’s the darling of merart, And she lives in my femily.’” + “‘For she’s the darling of merart, + And she lives in my femily.’” “Well, you’d best be careful, Thomas, and your mother too.” -“Your mother’s no better than she should be,” said Thomas vaguely. +“_Your_ mother’s no better than she should be,” said Thomas vaguely. “Do you think I haven’t heard that before?” retorted the boy. The other -concluded he might now say anything. So he might--the name of old Emily +concluded he might now say anything. So he might—the name of old Emily excepted. Stephen cared little about his benefactress’s honour, but a great deal about his own. He had made Mrs. Failing into a test. For the moment he would die for her, as a knight would die for a glove. He is not to be distinguished from a hero. -Old Sarum was passed. They approached the most beautiful spire in -the world. “Lord! another of these large churches!” said the soldier. +Old Sarum was passed. They approached the most beautiful spire in the +world. “Lord! another of these large churches!” said the soldier. Unfriendly to Gothic, he lifted both hands to his nose, and declared that old Em’ly was buried there. He lay in the mud. His horse trotted back towards Amesbury, Stephen had twisted him out of the saddle. -“I’ve done him!” he yelled, though no one was there to hear. He rose up -in his stirrups and shouted with joy. He flung his arms round Aeneas’s -neck. The elderly horse understood, capered, and bolted. It was a -centaur that dashed into Salisbury and scattered the people. In +“I’ve done him!” he yelled, though no one was there to hear. He rose +up in his stirrups and shouted with joy. He flung his arms round +Æneas’s neck. The elderly horse understood, capered, and bolted. It +was a centaur that dashed into Salisbury and scattered the people. In the stable he would not dismount. “I’ve done him!” he yelled to the -ostlers--apathetic men. Stretching upwards, he clung to a beam. Aeneas +ostlers—apathetic men. Stretching upwards, he clung to a beam. Æneas moved on and he was left hanging. Greatly did he incommode them by his exercises. He pulled up, he circled, he kicked the other customers. At -last he fell to the earth, deliciously fatigued. His body worried him no -longer. +last he fell to the earth, deliciously fatigued. His body worried him +no longer. He went, like the baby he was, to buy a white linen hat. There were soldiers about, and he thought it would disguise him. Then he had a -little lunch to steady the beer. This day had turned out admirably. All -the money that should have fed Rickie he could spend on himself. Instead -of toiling over the Cathedral and seeing the stuffed penguins, he could -stop the whole thing in the cattle market. There he met and made some -friends. He watched the cheap-jacks, and saw how necessary it was to -have a confident manner. He spoke confidently himself about lambs, and -people listened. He spoke confidently about pigs, and they roared with -laughter. He must learn more about pigs. He witnessed a performance--not -too namby-pamby--of Punch and Judy. “Hullo, Podge!” cried a naughty -little girl. He tried to catch her, and failed. She was one of the -Cadford children. For Salisbury on market day, though it is not -picturesque, is certainly representative, and you read the names of -half the Wiltshire villages upon the carriers’ carts. He found, in Penny -Farthing Street, the cart from Wintersbridge. It would not start for -several hours, but the passengers always used it as a club, and sat in -it every now and then during the day. No less than three ladies were +little lunch to steady the beer. This day had turned out admirably. +All the money that should have fed Rickie he could spend on himself. +Instead of toiling over the Cathedral and seeing the stuffed penguins, +he could stop the whole thing in the cattle market. There he met and +made some friends. He watched the cheap-jacks, and saw how necessary +it was to have a confident manner. He spoke confidently himself about +lambs, and people listened. He spoke confidently about pigs, and they +roared with laughter. He must learn more about pigs. He witnessed a +performance—not too namby-pamby—of Punch and Judy. “Hullo, Podge!” +cried a naughty little girl. He tried to catch her, and failed. She was +one of the Cadford children. For Salisbury on market day, though it is +not picturesque, is certainly representative, and you read the names +of half the Wiltshire villages upon the carriers’ carts. He found, in +Penny Farthing Street, the cart from Wintersbridge. It would not start +for several hours, but the passengers always used it as a club, and sat +in it every now and then during the day. No less than three ladies were these now, staring at the shafts. One of them was Flea Thompson’s girl. He asked her, quite politely, why her lover had broken faith with him -in the rain. She was silent. He warned her of approaching vengeance. She -was still silent, but another woman hoped that a gentleman would not -be hard on a poor person. Something in this annoyed him; it wasn’t a -question of gentility and poverty--it was a question of two men. He +in the rain. She was silent. He warned her of approaching vengeance. +She was still silent, but another woman hoped that a gentleman would +not be hard on a poor person. Something in this annoyed him; it wasn’t +a question of gentility and poverty—it was a question of two men. He determined to go back by Cadbury Rings where the shepherd would now be. -He did. But this part must be treated lightly. He rode up to the culprit -with the air of a Saint George, spoke a few stern words from the saddle, -tethered his steed to a hurdle, and took off his coat. “Are you ready?” - he asked. +He did. But this part must be treated lightly. He rode up to the +culprit with the air of a Saint George, spoke a few stern words from +the saddle, tethered his steed to a hurdle, and took off his coat. “Are +you ready?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” said Flea, and flung him on his back. @@ -4666,11 +4738,11 @@ to be fists,” he said gloomily. “I know, sir.” -“It’s jolly smart though, and--and I beg your pardon all round.” It -cost him a great deal to say this, but he was sure that it was the right -thing to say. He must acknowledge the better man. Whereas most people, -if they provoke a fight and are flung, say, “You cannot rob me of my -moral victory.” +“It’s jolly smart though, and—and I beg your pardon all round.” It +cost him a great deal to say this, but he was sure that it was the +right thing to say. He must acknowledge the better man. Whereas most +people, if they provoke a fight and are flung, say, “You cannot rob me +of my moral victory.” There was nothing further to be done. He mounted again, not exactly depressed, but feeling that this delightful world is extraordinarily @@ -4679,98 +4751,101 @@ flung by Flea. “One nips or is nipped,” he thought, “and never knows beforehand. I should not be surprised if many people had more in them than I suppose, while others were just the other way round. I haven’t seen that sort of thing in Ingersoll, but it’s quite important.” Then -his thoughts turned to a curious incident of long ago, when he had been -“nipped”--as a little boy. He was trespassing in those woods, when -he met in a narrow glade a flock of sheep. They had neither dog nor -shepherd, and advanced towards him silently. He was accustomed to sheep, -but had never happened to meet them in a wood before, and disliked it. -He retired, slowly at first, then fast; and the flock, in a dense mass, -pressed after him. His terror increased. He turned and screamed at their -long white faces; and still they came on, all stuck together, like some -horrible jell--. If once he got into them! Bellowing and screeching, he -rushed into the undergrowth, tore himself all over, and reached home in -convulsions. Mr. Failing, his only grown-up friend, was sympathetic, but -quite stupid. “Pan ovium custos,” he sympathetic, as he pulled out the -thorns. “Why not?” “Pan ovium custos.” Stephen learnt the meaning of the -phrase at school, “A pan of eggs for custard.” He still remembered how -the other boys looked as he peeped at them between his legs, awaiting -the descending cane. +his thoughts turned to a curious incident of long ago, when he had +been “nipped”—as a little boy. He was trespassing in those woods, +when he met in a narrow glade a flock of sheep. They had neither dog +nor shepherd, and advanced towards him silently. He was accustomed +to sheep, but had never happened to meet them in a wood before, and +disliked it. He retired, slowly at first, then fast; and the flock, +in a dense mass, pressed after him. His terror increased. He turned +and screamed at their long white faces; and still they came on, all +stuck together, like some horrible jell—. If once he got into them! +Bellowing and screeching, he rushed into the undergrowth, tore himself +all over, and reached home in convulsions. Mr. Failing, his only +grown-up friend, was sympathetic, but quite stupid. “Pan ovium custos,” +he sympathetic, as he pulled out the thorns. “Why not?” “Pan ovium +custos.” Stephen learnt the meaning of the phrase at school, “A pan of +eggs for custard.” He still remembered how the other boys looked as he +peeped at them between his legs, awaiting the descending cane. So he returned, full of pleasant disconnected thoughts. He had had a -rare good time. He liked every one--even that poor little Elliot--and +rare good time. He liked every one—even that poor little Elliot—and yet no one mattered. They were all out. On the landing he saw the housemaid. He felt skittish and irresistible. Should he slip his arm round her waist? Perhaps better not; she might box his ears. And he -wanted to smoke on the roof before dinner. So he only said, “Please will -you stop the boy blacking my brown boots,” and she with downcast eyes, -answered, “Yes, sir; I will indeed.” - -His room was in the pediment. Classical architecture, like all things in -this world that attempt serenity, is bound to have its lapses into the -undignified, and Cadover lapsed hopelessly when it came to Stephen’s -room. It gave him one round window, to see through which he must lie -upon his stomach, one trapdoor opening upon the leads, three iron -girders, three beams, six buttresses, no circling, unless you count the -walls, no walls unless you count the ceiling and in its embarrassment -presented him with the gurgly cistern that supplied the bath water. Here -he lived, absolutely happy, and unaware that Mrs. Failing had poked him -up here on purpose, to prevent him from growing too bumptious. Here he -worked and sang and practised on the ocharoon. Here, in the crannies, he -had constructed shelves and cupboards and useless little drawers. He had -only one picture--the Demeter of Onidos--and she hung straight from the -roof like a joint of meat. Once she was in the drawing-room; but -Mrs. Failing had got tired of her, and decreed her removal and this -degradation. Now she faced the sunrise; and when the moon rose its light -also fell on her, and trembled, like light upon the sea. For she was -never still, and if the draught increased she would twist on her string, -and would sway and tap upon the rafters until Stephen woke up and said -what he thought of her. “Want your nose?” he would murmur. “Don’t you -wish you may get it” Then he drew the clothes over his ears, while above -him, in the wind and the darkness, the goddess continued her motions. - -Today, as he entered, he trod on the pile of sixpenny reprints. Leighton -had brought them up. He looked at the portraits in their covers, and -began to think that these people were not everything. What a fate, -to look like Colonel Ingersoll, or to marry Mrs. Julia P. Chunk! The -Demeter turned towards him as he bathed, and in the cold water he sang-- - - “They aren’t beautiful, they aren’t modest; - I’d just as soon follow an old stone goddess,” +wanted to smoke on the roof before dinner. So he only said, “Please +will you stop the boy blacking my brown boots,” and she with downcast +eyes, answered, “Yes, sir; I will indeed.” + +His room was in the pediment. Classical architecture, like all things +in this world that attempt serenity, is bound to have its lapses +into the undignified, and Cadover lapsed hopelessly when it came to +Stephen’s room. It gave him one round window, to see through which +he must lie upon his stomach, one trapdoor opening upon the leads, +three iron girders, three beams, six buttresses, no circling, unless +you count the walls, no walls unless you count the ceiling and in its +embarrassment presented him with the gurgly cistern that supplied the +bath water. Here he lived, absolutely happy, and unaware that Mrs. +Failing had poked him up here on purpose, to prevent him from growing +too bumptious. Here he worked and sang and practised on the ocharoon. +Here, in the crannies, he had constructed shelves and cupboards and +useless little drawers. He had only one picture—the Demeter of +Cnidos—and she hung straight from the roof like a joint of meat. Once +she was in the drawing-room; but Mrs. Failing had got tired of her, and +decreed her removal and this degradation. Now she faced the sunrise; +and when the moon rose its light also fell on her, and trembled, +like light upon the sea. For she was never still, and if the draught +increased she would twist on her string, and would sway and tap upon +the rafters until Stephen woke up and said what he thought of her. +“Want your nose?” he would murmur. “Don’t you wish you may get it” Then +he drew the clothes over his ears, while above him, in the wind and the +darkness, the goddess continued her motions. + +Today, as he entered, he trod on the pile of sixpenny reprints. +Leighton had brought them up. He looked at the portraits in their +covers, and began to think that these people were not everything. What +a fate, to look like Colonel Ingersoll, or to marry Mrs. Julia P. +Chunk! The Demeter turned towards him as he bathed, and in the cold +water he sang— + + “They aren’t beautiful, they aren’t modest; + I’d just as soon follow an old stone goddess,”— and sprang upward through the skylight on to the roof. Years ago, when -a nurse was washing him, he had slipped from her soapy hands and got up -here. She implored him to remember that he was a little gentleman; but -he forgot the fact--if it was a fact--and not even the butler could get -him down. Mr. Failing, who was sitting alone in the garden too ill to -read, heard a shout, “Am I an acroterium?” He looked up and saw a naked -child poised on the summit of Cadover. “Yes,” he replied; “but they are -unfashionable. Go in,” and the vision had remained with him as something -peculiarly gracious. He felt that nonsense and beauty have close -connections,--closer connections than Art will allow,--and that both -would remain when his own heaviness and his own ugliness had perished. -Mrs. Failing found in his remains a sentence that puzzled her. “I see -the respectable mansion. I see the smug fortress of culture. The doors -are shut. The windows are shut. But on the roof the children go dancing -for ever.” +a nurse was washing him, he had slipped from her soapy hands and got +up here. She implored him to remember that he was a little gentleman; +but he forgot the fact—if it was a fact—and not even the butler could +get him down. Mr. Failing, who was sitting alone in the garden too ill +to read, heard a shout, “Am I an acroterium?” He looked up and saw a +naked child poised on the summit of Cadover. “Yes,” he replied; “but +they are unfashionable. Go in,” and the vision had remained with him +as something peculiarly gracious. He felt that nonsense and beauty +have close connections,—closer connections than Art will allow,—and +that both would remain when his own heaviness and his own ugliness had +perished. Mrs. Failing found in his remains a sentence that puzzled +her. “I see the respectable mansion. I see the smug fortress of +culture. The doors are shut. The windows are shut. But on the roof the +children go dancing for ever.” Stephen was a child no longer. He never stood on the pediment now, except for a bet. He never, or scarcely ever, poured water down the chimneys. When he caught the cat, he seldom dropped her into the -housekeeper’s bedroom. But still, when the weather was fair, he liked to -come up after bathing, and get dry in the sun. Today he brought with him -a towel, a pipe of tobacco, and Rickie’s story. He must get it done some -time, and he was tired of the six-penny reprints. The sloping gable -was warm, and he lay back on it with closed eyes, gasping for pleasure. -Starlings criticized him, snots fell on his clean body, and over him a -little cloud was tinged with the colours of evening. “Good! good!” he -whispered. “Good, oh good!” and opened the manuscript reluctantly. - -What a production! Who was this girl? Where did she go to? Why so much -talk about trees? “I take it he wrote it when feeling bad,” he murmured, -and let it fall into the gutter. It fell face downwards, and on the back -he saw a neat little resume in Miss Pembroke’s handwriting, intended for -such as him. “Allegory. Man = modern civilization (in bad sense). Girl = -getting into touch with Nature.” +housekeeper’s bedroom. But still, when the weather was fair, he liked +to come up after bathing, and get dry in the sun. Today he brought +with him a towel, a pipe of tobacco, and Rickie’s story. He must get +it done some time, and he was tired of the six-penny reprints. The +sloping gable was warm, and he lay back on it with closed eyes, gasping +for pleasure. Starlings criticized him, snots fell on his clean body, +and over him a little cloud was tinged with the colours of evening. +“Good! good!” he whispered. “Good, oh good!” and opened the manuscript +reluctantly. + +What a production! Who was this girl? Where did she go to? Why so +much talk about trees? “I take it he wrote it when feeling bad,” he +murmured, and let it fall into the gutter. It fell face downwards, +and on the back he saw a neat little _résumé_ in Miss Pembroke’s +handwriting, intended for such as him. “Allegory. Man = modern +civilization (in bad sense). Girl = getting into touch with Nature.” In touch with Nature! The girl was a tree! He lit his pipe and gazed at the radiant earth. The foreground was hidden, but there was the village @@ -4784,57 +4859,60 @@ asleep. + XIII + Glad as Agnes was when her lover returned for lunch, she was at the -same time rather dismayed: she knew that Mrs. Failing would not like her -plans altered. And her dismay was justified. Their hostess was a little -stiff, and asked whether Stephen had been obnoxious. +same time rather dismayed: she knew that Mrs. Failing would not like +her plans altered. And her dismay was justified. Their hostess was a +little stiff, and asked whether Stephen had been obnoxious. “Indeed he hasn’t. He spent the whole time looking after me.” -“From which I conclude he was more obnoxious than usual.” Rickie praised -him diligently. But his candid nature showed everything through. His -aunt soon saw that they had not got on. She had expected this--almost -planned it. Nevertheless she resented it, and her resentment was to fall -on him. +“From which I conclude he was more obnoxious than usual.” Rickie +praised him diligently. But his candid nature showed everything +through. His aunt soon saw that they had not got on. She had expected +this—almost planned it. Nevertheless she resented it, and her +resentment was to fall on him. The storm gathered slowly, and many other things went to swell it. Weakly people, if they are not careful, hate one another, and when the -weakness is hereditary the temptation increases. Elliots had never got -on among themselves. They talked of “The Family,” but they always turned -outwards to the health and beauty that lie so promiscuously about the -world. Rickie’s father had turned, for a time at all events, to his -mother. Rickie himself was turning to Agnes. And Mrs. Failing now was -irritable, and unfair to the nephew who was lame like her horrible -brother and like herself. She thought him invertebrate and conventional. -She was envious of his happiness. She did not trouble to understand his -art. She longed to shatter him, but knowing as she did that the human -thunderbolt often rebounds and strikes the wielder, she held her hand. +weakness is hereditary the temptation increases. Elliots had never +got on among themselves. They talked of “The Family,” but they always +turned outwards to the health and beauty that lie so promiscuously +about the world. Rickie’s father had turned, for a time at all events, +to his mother. Rickie himself was turning to Agnes. And Mrs. Failing +now was irritable, and unfair to the nephew who was lame like her +horrible brother and like herself. She thought him invertebrate and +conventional. She was envious of his happiness. She did not trouble to +understand his art. She longed to shatter him, but knowing as she did +that the human thunderbolt often rebounds and strikes the wielder, she +held her hand. Agnes watched the approaching clouds. Rickie had warned her; now she began to warn him. As the visit wore away she urged him to be pleasant to his aunt, and so convert it into a success. -He replied, “Why need it be a success?”--a reply in the manner of +He replied, “Why need it be a success?”—a reply in the manner of Ansell. -She laughed. “Oh, that’s so like you men--all theory! What about your +She laughed. “Oh, that’s so like you men—all theory! What about your great theory of hating no one? As soon as it comes in useful you drop it.” “I don’t hate Aunt Emily. Honestly. But certainly I don’t want to be near her or think about her. Don’t you think there are two great things -in life that we ought to aim at--truth and kindness? Let’s have both if +in life that we ought to aim at—truth and kindness? Let’s have both if we can, but let’s be sure of having one or the other. My aunt gives up both for the sake of being funny.” “And Stephen Wonham,” pursued Agnes. “There’s another person you -hate--or don’t think about, if you prefer it put like that.” +hate—or don’t think about, if you prefer it put like that.” “The truth is, I’m changing. I’m beginning to see that the world has many people in it who don’t matter. I had time for them once. Not now.” - There was only one gate to the kingdom of heaven now. +There was only one gate to the kingdom of heaven now. Agnes surprised him by saying, “But the Wonham boy is evidently a part of your aunt’s life. She laughs at him, but she is fond of him.” @@ -4864,27 +4942,28 @@ it, always alone, always late, her hair always draped in an expensive shawl. This Sunday, though late as usual, she was not alone. Miss Pembroke, -en grande toilette, sat by her side. Rickie, looking plain and devout, -perched opposite. And Stephen actually came too, murmuring that it would -be the Benedicite, which he had never minded. There was also the Litany, -which drove him into the air again, much to Mrs. Failing’s delight. She -enjoyed this sort of thing. It amused her when her Protege left the pew, -looking bored, athletic, and dishevelled, and groping most obviously for -his pipe. She liked to keep a thoroughbred pagan to shock people. “He’s -gone to worship Nature,” she whispered. Rickie did not look up. “Don’t -you think he’s charming?” He made no reply. +_en grande toilette_, sat by her side. Rickie, looking plain and +devout, perched opposite. And Stephen actually came too, murmuring that +it would be the Benedicite, which he had never minded. There was also +the Litany, which drove him into the air again, much to Mrs. Failing’s +delight. She enjoyed this sort of thing. It amused her when her +_protégé_ left the pew, looking bored, athletic, and dishevelled, and +groping most obviously for his pipe. She liked to keep a thoroughbred +pagan to shock people. “He’s gone to worship Nature,” she whispered. +Rickie did not look up. “Don’t you think he’s charming?” He made no +reply. “Charming,” whispered Agnes over his head. During the sermon she analysed her guests. Miss -Pembroke--undistinguished, unimaginative, tolerable. -Rickie--intolerable. “And how pedantic!” she mused. “He smells of the +Pembroke—undistinguished, unimaginative, tolerable. +Rickie—intolerable. “And how pedantic!” she mused. “He smells of the University library. If he was stupid in the right way he would be a don.” She looked round the tiny church; at the whitewashed pillars, the humble pavement, the window full of magenta saints. There was the vicar’s wife. And Mrs. Wilbraham’s bonnet. Ugh! The rest of the -congregation were poor women, with flat, hopeless faces--she saw them -Sunday after Sunday, but did not know their names--diversified with a +congregation were poor women, with flat, hopeless faces—she saw them +Sunday after Sunday, but did not know their names—diversified with a few reluctant plough-boys, and the vile little school children row upon row. “Ugh! what a hole,” thought Mrs. Failing, whose Christianity was the type best described as “cathedral.” “What a hole for a cultured @@ -4897,10 +4976,10 @@ unpardonable sin. Fresh air! The fresh air that has made Stephen Wonham fresh and companionable and strong. Even if it kills, I will let in the fresh air.” -Thus reasoned Mrs. Failing, in the facile vein of Ibsenism. She imagined -herself to be a cold-eyed Scandinavian heroine. Really she was an -English old lady, who did not mind giving other people a chill provided -it was not infectious. +Thus reasoned Mrs. Failing, in the facile vein of Ibsenism. She +imagined herself to be a cold-eyed Scandinavian heroine. Really she +was an English old lady, who did not mind giving other people a chill +provided it was not infectious. Agnes, on the way back, noted that her hostess was a little snappish. But one is so hungry after morning service, and either so hot or so @@ -4908,7 +4987,7 @@ cold, that he would be a saint indeed who becomes a saint at once. Mrs. Failing, after asserting vindictively that it was impossible to make a living out of literature, was courteously left alone. Roast-beef and moselle might yet work miracles, and Agnes still hoped for the -introductions--the introductions to certain editors and publishers--on +introductions—the introductions to certain editors and publishers—on which her whole diplomacy was bent. Rickie would not push himself. It was his besetting sin. Well for him that he would have a wife, and a loving wife, who knew the value of enterprise. @@ -4916,8 +4995,8 @@ loving wife, who knew the value of enterprise. Unfortunately lunch was a quarter of an hour late, and during that quarter of an hour the aunt and the nephew quarrelled. She had been inveighing against the morning service, and he quietly and deliberately -replied, “If organized religion is anything--and it is something to -me--it will not be wrecked by a harmonium and a dull sermon.” +replied, “If organized religion is anything—and it is something to +me—it will not be wrecked by a harmonium and a dull sermon.” Mrs. Failing frowned. “I envy you. It is a great thing to have no sense of beauty.” @@ -4929,19 +5008,19 @@ careful.” was an agnostic! Isn’t agnosticism all the thing at Cambridge?” “Nothing is the ‘thing’ at Cambridge. If a few men are agnostic there, -it is for some grave reason, not because they are irritated with the way -the parson says his vowels.” +it is for some grave reason, not because they are irritated with the +way the parson says his vowels.” Agnes intervened. “Well, I side with Aunt Emily. I believe in ritual.” “Don’t, my dear, side with me. He will only say you have no sense of religion either.” -“Excuse me,” said Rickie, perhaps he too was a little hungry,--“I never +“Excuse me,” said Rickie,—perhaps he too was a little hungry,—“I never suggested such a thing. I never would suggest such a thing. Why cannot you understand my position? I almost feel it is that you won’t.” -“I try to understand your position night and day dear--what you mean, +“I try to understand your position night and day dear—what you mean, what you like, why you came to Cadover, and why you stop here when my presence is so obviously unpleasing to you.” @@ -4961,89 +5040,93 @@ apology. the end of our visit.” “Rudeness and Grossness matter, and I’ve shown both, and already I’m -sorry, and I hope she’ll let me apologize. But from the selfish point of -view it doesn’t matter a straw. She’s no more to us than the Wonham boy -or the boot boy.” +sorry, and I hope she’ll let me apologize. But from the selfish point +of view it doesn’t matter a straw. She’s no more to us than the Wonham +boy or the boot boy.” “Which way will you walk?” “I think to that entrenchment. Look at it.” They were sitting on the -steps. He stretched out his hand to Cadsbury Rings, and then let it rest -for a moment on her shoulder. “You’re changing me,” he said gently. “God -bless you for it.” - -He enjoyed his walk. Cadford was a charming village and for a time he -hung over the bridge by the mill. So clear was the stream that it seemed -not water at all, but some invisible quintessence in which the happy -minnows and the weeds were vibrating. And he paused again at the Roman -crossing, and thought for a moment of the unknown child. The line curved -suddenly: certainly it was dangerous. Then he lifted his eyes to the -down. The entrenchment showed like the rim of a saucer, and over -its narrow line peeped the summit of the central tree. It looked +steps. He stretched out his hand to Cadsbury Rings, and then let it +rest for a moment on her shoulder. “You’re changing me,” he said +gently. “God bless you for it.” + +He enjoyed his walk. Cadford was a charming village and for a time +he hung over the bridge by the mill. So clear was the stream that it +seemed not water at all, but some invisible quintessence in which the +happy minnows and the weeds were vibrating. And he paused again at the +Roman crossing, and thought for a moment of the unknown child. The line +curved suddenly: certainly it was dangerous. Then he lifted his eyes +to the down. The entrenchment showed like the rim of a saucer, and +over its narrow line peeped the summit of the central tree. It looked interesting. He hurried forward, with the wind behind him. The Rings were curious rather than impressive. Neither embankment was over twelve feet high, and the grass on them had not the exquisite green of Old Sarum, but was grey and wiry. But Nature (if she arranges -anything) had arranged that from them, at all events, there should be a -view. The whole system of the country lay spread before Rickie, and he -gained an idea of it that he never got in his elaborate ride. He saw how -all the water converges at Salisbury; how Salisbury lies in a shallow -basin, just at the change of the soil. He saw to the north the Plain, -and the stream of the Cad flowing down from it, with a tributary that -broke out suddenly, as the chalk streams do: one village had clustered -round the source and clothed itself with trees. He saw Old Sarum, and -hints of the Avon valley, and the land above Stone Henge. And behind him -he saw the great wood beginning unobtrusively, as if the down too needed -shaving; and into it the road to London slipped, covering the bushes -with white dust. Chalk made the dust white, chalk made the water clear, -chalk made the clean rolling outlines of the land, and favoured the -grass and the distant coronals of trees. Here is the heart of our -island: the Chilterns, the North Downs, the South Downs radiate hence. -The fibres of England unite in Wiltshire, and did we condescend to -worship her, here we should erect our national shrine. - -People at that time were trying to think imperially, Rickie wondered how -they did it, for he could not imagine a place larger than England. +anything) had arranged that from them, at all events, there should be +a view. The whole system of the country lay spread before Rickie, and +he gained an idea of it that he never got in his elaborate ride. He +saw how all the water converges at Salisbury; how Salisbury lies in a +shallow basin, just at the change of the soil. He saw to the north the +Plain, and the stream of the Cad flowing down from it, with a tributary +that broke out suddenly, as the chalk streams do: one village had +clustered round the source and clothed itself with trees. He saw Old +Sarum, and hints of the Avon valley, and the land above Stone Henge. +And behind him he saw the great wood beginning unobtrusively, as if +the down too needed shaving; and into it the road to London slipped, +covering the bushes with white dust. Chalk made the dust white, chalk +made the water clear, chalk made the clean rolling outlines of the +land, and favoured the grass and the distant coronals of trees. Here +is the heart of our island: the Chilterns, the North Downs, the South +Downs radiate hence. The fibres of England unite in Wiltshire, and did +we condescend to worship her, here we should erect our national shrine. + +People at that time were trying to think imperially, Rickie wondered +how they did it, for he could not imagine a place larger than England. And other people talked of Italy, the spiritual fatherland of us all. -Perhaps Italy would prove marvellous. But at present he conceived it as -something exotic, to be admired and reverenced, but not to be loved like -these unostentatious fields. He drew out a book, it was natural for him -to read when he was happy, and to read out loud,--and for a little time -his voice disturbed the silence of that glorious afternoon. The book was -Shelley, and it opened at a passage that he had cherished greatly two -years before, and marked as “very good.” - -“I never was attached to that great sect Whose doctrine is that each one -should select Out of the world a mistress or a friend, And all the rest, -though fair and wise, commend To cold oblivion,--though it is the code -Of modern morals, and the beaten road Which those poor slaves with weary -footsteps tread Who travel to their home among the dead By the broad -highway of the world,--and so With one sad friend, perhaps a jealous -foe, The dreariest and the longest journey go.” - -It was “very good”--fine poetry, and, in a sense, true. Yet he was -surprised that he had ever selected it so vehemently. This afternoon it -seemed a little inhuman. Half a mile off two lovers were keeping company -where all the villagers could see them. They cared for no one else; -they felt only the pressure of each other, and so progressed, silent -and oblivious, across the land. He felt them to be nearer the truth -than Shelley. Even if they suffered or quarrelled, they would have been -nearer the truth. He wondered whether they were Henry Adams and Jessica -Thompson, both of this parish, whose banns had been asked for the second -time in the church this morning. Why could he not marry on fifteen -shillings a-week? And be looked at them with respect, and wished that he -was not a cumbersome gentleman. - -Presently he saw something less pleasant--his aunt’s pony carriage. It -had crossed the railway, and was advancing up the Roman road along by -the straw sacks. His impulse was to retreat, but someone waved to him. -It was Agnes. She waved continually, as much as to say, “Wait for us.” - Mrs. Failing herself raised the whip in a nonchalant way. Stephen Wonham -was following on foot, some way behind. He put the Shelley back into his -pocket and waited for them. When the carriage stopped by some hurdles -he went down from the embankment and helped them to dismount. He felt -rather nervous. +Perhaps Italy would prove marvellous. But at present he conceived it +as something exotic, to be admired and reverenced, but not to be loved +like these unostentatious fields. He drew out a book, it was natural +for him to read when he was happy, and to read out loud,—and for a +little time his voice disturbed the silence of that glorious afternoon. +The book was Shelley, and it opened at a passage that he had cherished +greatly two years before, and marked as “very good.” + + “I never was attached to that great sect + Whose doctrine is that each one should select + Out of the world a mistress or a friend + And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend + To cold oblivion,—though it is the code + Of modern morals, and the beaten road + Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread + Who travel to their home among the dead + By the broad highway of the world,—and so + With one sad friend, perhaps a jealous foe, + The dreariest and the longest journey go.” + +It was “very good”—fine poetry, and, in a sense, true. Yet he was +surprised that he had ever selected it so vehemently. This afternoon +it seemed a little inhuman. Half a mile off two lovers were keeping +company where all the villagers could see them. They cared for no one +else; they felt only the pressure of each other, and so progressed, +silent and oblivious, across the land. He felt them to be nearer the +truth than Shelley. Even if they suffered or quarrelled, they would +have been nearer the truth. He wondered whether they were Henry Adams +and Jessica Thompson, both of this parish, whose banns had been asked +for the second time in the church this morning. Why could he not marry +on fifteen shillings a-week? And be looked at them with respect, and +wished that he was not a cumbersome gentleman. + +Presently he saw something less pleasant—his aunt’s pony carriage. +It had crossed the railway, and was advancing up the Roman road along +by the straw sacks. His impulse was to retreat, but someone waved to +him. It was Agnes. She waved continually, as much as to say, “Wait for +us.” Mrs. Failing herself raised the whip in a nonchalant way. Stephen +Wonham was following on foot, some way behind. He put the Shelley back +into his pocket and waited for them. When the carriage stopped by some +hurdles he went down from the embankment and helped them to dismount. +He felt rather nervous. His aunt gave him one of her disquieting smiles, but said pleasantly enough, “Aren’t the Rings a little immense? Agnes and I came here @@ -5051,12 +5134,12 @@ because we wanted an antidote to the morning service.” “Pang!” said the church bell suddenly; “pang! pang!” It sounded petty and ludicrous. They all laughed. Rickie blushed, and Agnes, with a -glance that said “apologize,” darted away to the entrenchment, as though -unable to restrain her curiosity. +glance that said “apologize,” darted away to the entrenchment, as +though unable to restrain her curiosity. “The pony won’t move,” said Mrs. Failing. “Leave him for Stephen to tie -up. Will you walk me to the tree in the middle? Booh! I’m tired. Give me -your arm--unless you’re tired as well.” +up. Will you walk me to the tree in the middle? Booh! I’m tired. Give +me your arm—unless you’re tired as well.” “No. I came out partly in the hope of helping you.” @@ -5075,9 +5158,9 @@ pagan gold. “Let’s go to the tree in the centre.” “Here’s the path.” The bank of grass where he had sat was broken by a -gap, through which chariots had entered, and farm carts entered now. The -track, following the ancient track, led straight through turnips to a -similar gap in the second circle, and thence continued, through more +gap, through which chariots had entered, and farm carts entered now. +The track, following the ancient track, led straight through turnips to +a similar gap in the second circle, and thence continued, through more turnips, to the central tree. “Pang!” said the bell, as they paused at the entrance. @@ -5090,19 +5173,19 @@ approaching the carriage. “You will, will you?” she murmured with a smile. “I wish your brother wasn’t quite so uppish. Let’s get on. Doesn’t that church distract you?” -“It’s so faint here,” said Rickie. And it sounded fainter inside, though -the earthwork was neither thick nor tall; and the view, though not -hidden, was greatly diminished. He was reminded for a minute of that -chalk pit near Madingley, whose ramparts excluded the familiar world. -Agnes was here, as she had once been there. She stood on the farther -barrier, waiting to receive them when they had traversed the heart of -the camp. +“It’s so faint here,” said Rickie. And it sounded fainter inside, +though the earthwork was neither thick nor tall; and the view, though +not hidden, was greatly diminished. He was reminded for a minute of +that chalk pit near Madingley, whose ramparts excluded the familiar +world. Agnes was here, as she had once been there. She stood on the +farther barrier, waiting to receive them when they had traversed the +heart of the camp. -“Admire my mangel-wurzels,” said Mrs. Failing. “They are said to grow -so splendidly on account of the dead soldiers. Isn’t it a sweet thought? -Need I say it is your brother’s?” +“Admire my mangel-wurzels,” said Mrs. Failing. “They are said to +grow so splendidly on account of the dead soldiers. Isn’t it a sweet +thought? Need I say it is your brother’s?” -“Wonham’s?” he suggested. It was the second time that she had made the +“Wonham’s—?” he suggested. It was the second time that she had made the little slip. She nodded, and he asked her what kind of ghosties haunted this curious field. @@ -5110,9 +5193,9 @@ this curious field. middle, especially on Sunday afternoons and all the worshippers rise through the turnips and dance round him.” -“Oh, these were decent people,” he replied, looking downwards--“soldiers -and shepherds. They have no ghosts. They worshipped Mars or Pan-Erda -perhaps; not the devil.” +“Oh, these were decent people,” he replied, looking +downwards—“soldiers and shepherds. They have no ghosts. They +worshipped Mars or Pan—Erda perhaps; not the devil.” “Pang!” went the church, and was silent, for the afternoon service had begun. They entered the second entrenchment, which was in height, @@ -5124,21 +5207,21 @@ they turn into Tommies from Bulford Camp, who rob the chickens.” “I don’t mind Bulford Camp,” said Rickie, looking, though in vain, for signs of its snowy tents. “The men there are the sons of the men here, -and have come back to the old country. War’s horrible, yet one loves all -continuity. And no one could mind a shepherd.” +and have come back to the old country. War’s horrible, yet one loves +all continuity. And no one could mind a shepherd.” -“Indeed! What about your brother--a shepherd if ever there was? Look how -he bores you! Don’t be so sentimental.” +“Indeed! What about your brother—a shepherd if ever there was? Look +how he bores you! Don’t be so sentimental.” -“But--oh, you mean--” +“But—oh, you mean—” “Your brother Stephen.” He glanced at her nervously. He had never known her so queer before. Perhaps it was some literary allusion that he had not caught; but her face did not at that moment suggest literature. In the differential -tones that one uses to an old and infirm person he said “Stephen Wonham -isn’t my brother, Aunt Emily.” +tones that one uses to an old and infirm person he said, “Stephen +Wonham isn’t my brother, Aunt Emily.” “My dear, you’re that precise. One can’t say ‘half-brother’ every time.” @@ -5149,86 +5232,88 @@ laugh. “How could I have a half-brother?” She made no answer. -Then a horror leapt straight at him, and he beat it back and said, -“I will not be frightened.” The tree in the centre revolved, the tree -disappeared, and he saw a room--the room where his father had lived in +Then a horror leapt straight at him, and he beat it back and said, “I +will not be frightened.” The tree in the centre revolved, the tree +disappeared, and he saw a room—the room where his father had lived in town. “Gently,” he told himself, “gently.” Still laughing, he said, “I, -with a brother-younger it’s not possible.” The horror leapt again, and +with a brother—younger—it’s not possible.” The horror leapt again, and he exclaimed, “It’s a foul lie!” “My dear, my dear!” -“It’s a foul lie! He wasn’t--I won’t stand--” +“It’s a foul lie! He wasn’t—I won’t stand—” “My dear, before you say several noble things, remember that it’s worse -for him than for you--worse for your brother, for your half-brother, for -your younger brother.” +for him than for you—worse for your brother, for your half-brother, +for your younger brother.” But he heard her no longer. He was gazing at the past, which he had praised so recently, which gaped ever wider, like an unhallowed grave. -Turn where he would, it encircled him. It took visible form: it was this -double entrenchment of the Rings. His mouth went cold, and he knew that -he was going to faint among the dead. He started running, missed the -exit, stumbled on the inner barrier, fell into darkness-- +Turn where he would, it encircled him. It took visible form: it was +this double entrenchment of the Rings. His mouth went cold, and he knew +that he was going to faint among the dead. He started running, missed +the exit, stumbled on the inner barrier, fell into darkness— “Get his head down,” said a voice. “Get the blood back into him. -That’s all he wants. Leave him to me. Elliot!”--the blood was -returning--“Elliot, wake up!” +That’s all he wants. Leave him to me. Elliot!”—the blood was +returning—“Elliot, wake up!” He woke up. The earth he had dreaded lay close to his eyes, and seemed beautiful. He saw the structure of the clods. A tiny beetle swung on -the grass blade. On his own neck a human hand pressed, guiding the blood -back to his brain. +the grass blade. On his own neck a human hand pressed, guiding the +blood back to his brain. There broke from him a cry, not of horror but of acceptance. For one -short moment he understood. “Stephen--” he began, and then he heard his +short moment he understood. “Stephen—” he began, and then he heard his own name called: “Rickie! Rickie!” Agnes hurried from her post on the margin, and, as if understanding also, caught him to her breast. Stephen offered to help them further, but finding that he made things -worse, he stepped aside to let them pass and then sauntered inwards. The -whole field, with concentric circles, was visible, and the broad leaves -of the turnips rustled in the gathering wind. Miss Pembroke and Elliot -were moving towards the Cadover entrance. Mrs. Failing stood watching in -her turn on the opposite bank. He was not an inquisitive boy; but as he -leant against the tree he wondered what it was all about, and whether he -would ever know. +worse, he stepped aside to let them pass and then sauntered inwards. +The whole field, with concentric circles, was visible, and the broad +leaves of the turnips rustled in the gathering wind. Miss Pembroke and +Elliot were moving towards the Cadover entrance. Mrs. Failing stood +watching in her turn on the opposite bank. He was not an inquisitive +boy; but as he leant against the tree he wondered what it was all +about, and whether he would ever know. + XIV -On the way back--at that very level-crossing where he had paused on -his upward route--Rickie stopped suddenly and told the girl why he had -fainted. Hitherto she had asked him in vain. His tone had gone from him, -and he told her harshly and brutally, so that she started away with -a horrified cry. Then his manner altered, and he exclaimed: “Will you -mind? Are you going to mind?” + +On the way back—at that very level-crossing where he had paused on +his upward route—Rickie stopped suddenly and told the girl why he had +fainted. Hitherto she had asked him in vain. His tone had gone from +him, and he told her harshly and brutally, so that she started away +with a horrified cry. Then his manner altered, and he exclaimed: “Will +you mind? Are you going to mind?” “Of course I mind,” she whispered. She turned from him, and saw up on the sky-line two figures that seemed to be of enormous size. -“They’re watching us. They stand on the edge watching us. This country’s -so open--you--you can’t they watch us wherever we go. Of course you -mind.” +“They’re watching us. They stand on the edge watching us. This +country’s so open—you—you can’t—they watch us wherever we go. Of +course you mind.” They heard the rumble of the train, and she pulled herself together. -“Come, dearest, we shall be run over next. We’re saying things that have -no sense.” But on the way back he repeated: “They can still see us. They -can see every inch of this road. They watch us for ever.” And when they -arrived at the steps there, sure enough, were still the two figures -gazing from the outer circle of the Rings. +“Come, dearest, we shall be run over next. We’re saying things that +have no sense.” But on the way back he repeated: “They can still see +us. They can see every inch of this road. They watch us for ever.” And +when they arrived at the steps there, sure enough, were still the two +figures gazing from the outer circle of the Rings. She made him go to his room at once: he was almost hysterical. Leighton brought out some tea for her, and she sat drinking it on the little terrace. Of course she minded. Again she was menaced by the abnormal. All had seemed so fair and so -simple, so in accordance with her ideas; and then, like a corpse, this -horror rose up to the surface. She saw the two figures descend and pause -while one of them harnessed the pony; she saw them drive downward, and -knew that before long she must face them and the world. She glanced at -her engagement ring. +simple, so in accordance with her ideas; and then, like a corpse, +this horror rose up to the surface. She saw the two figures descend +and pause while one of them harnessed the pony; she saw them drive +downward, and knew that before long she must face them and the world. +She glanced at her engagement ring. When the carriage drove up Mrs. Failing dismounted, but did not speak. It was Stephen who inquired after Rickie. She, scarcely knowing the @@ -5239,10 +5324,11 @@ sound of her own voice, replied that he was a little tired. “Agnes, give me some tea.” “It is rather strong,” said Agnes as the carriage drove off and left -them alone. Then she noticed that Mrs. Failing herself was agitated. Her -lips were trembling, and she saw the boy depart with manifest relief. +them alone. Then she noticed that Mrs. Failing herself was agitated. +Her lips were trembling, and she saw the boy depart with manifest +relief. -“Do you know,” she said hurriedly, as if talking against time--“Do you +“Do you know,” she said hurriedly, as if talking against time—“Do you know what upset Rickie?” “I do indeed know.” @@ -5251,37 +5337,38 @@ know what upset Rickie?” “I believe not.” -“Agnes--have I been a fool?” +“Agnes—have I been a fool?” “You have been very unkind,” said the girl, and her eyes filled with tears. For a moment Mrs. Failing was annoyed. “Unkind? I do not see that at -all. I believe in looking facts in the face. Rickie must know his ghosts -some time. Why not this afternoon?” +all. I believe in looking facts in the face. Rickie must know his +ghosts some time. Why not this afternoon?” -She rose with quiet dignity, but her tears came faster. “That is not so. -You told him to hurt him. I cannot think what you did it for. I suppose -because he was rude to you after church. It is a mean, cowardly revenge. +She rose with quiet dignity, but her tears came faster. “That is not +so. You told him to hurt him. I cannot think what you did it for. I +suppose because he was rude to you after church. It is a mean, cowardly +revenge. -“What--what if it’s a lie?” +“What—what if it’s a lie?” “Then, Mrs. Failing, it is sickening of you. There is no other word. -Sickening. I am sorry--a nobody like myself--to speak like this. How -COULD you, oh, how could you demean yourself? Why, not even a poor -person--Her indignation was fine and genuine. But her tears fell no +Sickening. I am sorry—a nobody like myself—to speak like this. How +_could_ you, oh, how could you demean yourself? Why, not even a poor +person—” Her indignation was fine and genuine. But her tears fell no longer. Nothing menaced her if they were not really brothers. -“It is not a lie, my clear; sit down. I will swear so much solemnly. It -is not a lie, but--” +“It is not a lie, my dear; sit down. I will swear so much solemnly. It +is not a lie, but—” Agnes waited. -“--we can call it a lie if we choose.” +“—we can call it a lie if we choose.” -“I am not so childish. You have said it, and we must all suffer. You -have had your fun: I conclude you did it for fun. You cannot go -back. He--” She pointed towards the stables, and could not finish her +“I am not so childish. You have said it, and we must all suffer. +You have had your fun: I conclude you did it for fun. You cannot go +back. He—” She pointed towards the stables, and could not finish her sentence. “I have not been a fool twice.” @@ -5298,24 +5385,24 @@ Indeed, Mrs. Failing was in an awkward position. Rickie had irritated her, and, in her desire to shock him, she had imperilled her own peace. She had felt so unconventional upon the hillside, when she loosed the horror against him; but now it was -darting at her as well. Suppose the scandal came out. Stephen, who was -absolutely without delicacy, would tell it to the people as soon as tell -them the time. His paganism would be too assertive; it might even be in -bad taste. After all, she had a prominent position in the neighbourhood; -she was talked about, respected, looked up to. After all, she was -growing old. And therefore, though she had no true regard for Rickie, -nor for Agnes, nor for Stephen, nor for Stephen’s parents, in whose -tragedy she had assisted, yet she did feel that if the scandal revived -it would disturb the harmony of Cadover, and therefore tried to retrace -her steps. It is easy to say shocking things: it is so different to be -connected with anything shocking. Life and death were not involved, but -comfort and discomfort were. +darting at her as well. Suppose the scandal came out. Stephen, who +was absolutely without delicacy, would tell it to the people as soon +as tell them the time. His paganism would be too assertive; it might +even be in bad taste. After all, she had a prominent position in the +neighbourhood; she was talked about, respected, looked up to. After +all, she was growing old. And therefore, though she had no true regard +for Rickie, nor for Agnes, nor for Stephen, nor for Stephen’s parents, +in whose tragedy she had assisted, yet she did feel that if the scandal +revived it would disturb the harmony of Cadover, and therefore tried +to retrace her steps. It is easy to say shocking things: it is so +different to be connected with anything shocking. Life and death were +not involved, but comfort and discomfort were. The silence was broken by the sound of feet on the gravel. Agnes said -hastily, “Is that really true--that he knows nothing?” +hastily, “Is that really true—that he knows nothing?” “You, Rickie, and I are the only people alive that know. He realizes -what he is--with a precision that is sometimes alarming. Who he is, he +what he is—with a precision that is sometimes alarming. Who he is, he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. I suppose he would know when I’m dead. There are papers.” @@ -5324,12 +5411,12 @@ There are papers.” Mrs. Failing had not disliked her courage. “My dear, you may. We’re all off our hinges this Sunday. Sit down by me again.” -Agnes obeyed, and they awaited the arrival of Stephen. They were clever -enough to understand each other. The thing must be hushed up. The matron -must repair the consequences of her petulance. The girl must hide the -stain in her future husband’s family. Why not? Who was injured? What -does a grown-up man want with a grown brother? Rickie upstairs, how -grateful he would be to them for saving him. +Agnes obeyed, and they awaited the arrival of Stephen. They were +clever enough to understand each other. The thing must be hushed up. +The matron must repair the consequences of her petulance. The girl +must hide the stain in her future husband’s family. Why not? Who was +injured? What does a grown-up man want with a grown brother? Rickie +upstairs, how grateful he would be to them for saving him. “Stephen!” @@ -5346,8 +5433,8 @@ tried to make conversation, and said, with averted eyes, that the sea was a long way off. “The sea’s downhill. That’s all I know about it.” He swept up the money -with a word of pleasure: he was kept like a baby in such things. Then he -started off, but slowly, for he meant to walk till the morning. +with a word of pleasure: he was kept like a baby in such things. Then +he started off, but slowly, for he meant to walk till the morning. “He will be gone days,” said Mrs. Failing. “The comedy is finished. Let us come in.” @@ -5363,18 +5450,19 @@ hurried upstairs to impart it to Rickie. “I don’t think we are rewarded if we do right, but we are punished if we lie. It’s the fashion to laugh at poetic justice, but I do believe -in half of it. Cast bitter bread upon the waters, and after many days it -really will come back to you.” These were the words of Mr. Failing. They -were also the opinions of Stewart Ansell, another unpractical person. -Rickie was trying to write to him when she entered with the good news. +in half of it. Cast bitter bread upon the waters, and after many days +it really will come back to you.” These were the words of Mr. Failing. +They were also the opinions of Stewart Ansell, another unpractical +person. Rickie was trying to write to him when she entered with the +good news. “Dear, we’re saved! He doesn’t know, and he never is to know. I can’t tell you how glad I am. All the time we saw them standing together up there, she wasn’t telling him at all. She was keeping him out of the way, in case you let it out. Oh, I like her! She may be unwise, but she is nice, really. She said, ‘I’ve been a fool but I haven’t been a fool -twice.’ You must forgive her, Rickie. I’ve forgiven her, and she me; for -at first I was so angry with her. Oh, my darling boy, I am so glad!” +twice.’ You must forgive her, Rickie. I’ve forgiven her, and she me; +for at first I was so angry with her. Oh, my darling boy, I am so glad!” He was shivering all over, and could not reply. At last he said, “Why hasn’t she told him?” @@ -5383,37 +5471,39 @@ hasn’t she told him?” “But she can’t behave to people like that. She must tell him.” +“Why?” + “Because he must be told such a real thing.” “Such a real thing?” the girl echoed, screwing up her forehead. -“But--but you don’t mean you’re glad about it?” +“But—but you don’t mean you’re glad about it?” -His head bowed over the letter. “My God--no! But it’s a real thing. She -must tell him. I nearly told him myself--up there--when he made me look +His head bowed over the letter. “My God—no! But it’s a real thing. She +must tell him. I nearly told him myself—up there—when he made me look at the ground, but you happened to prevent me.” How Providence had watched over them! “She won’t tell him. I know that much.” -“Then, Agnes, darling”--he drew her to the table “we must talk together +“Then, Agnes, darling”—he drew her to the table “we must talk together a little. If she won’t, then we ought to.” -“WE tell him?” cried the girl, white with horror. “Tell him now, when +“_We_ tell him?” cried the girl, white with horror. “Tell him now, when everything has been comfortably arranged?” -“You see, darling”--he took hold of her hand--“what one must do is to -think the thing out and settle what’s right, I’m still all trembling and -stupid. I see it mixed up with other things. I want you to help me. +“You see, darling”—he took hold of her hand—“what one must do is to +think the thing out and settle what’s right. I’m still all trembling +and stupid. I see it mixed up with other things. I want you to help me. It seems to me that here and there in life we meet with a person or incident that is symbolical. It’s nothing in itself, yet for the moment it stands for some eternal principle. We accept it, at whatever costs, and we have accepted life. But if we are frightened and reject it, the moment, so to speak, passes; the symbol is never offered again. Is this -nonsense? Once before a symbol was offered to me--I shall not tell you +nonsense? Once before a symbol was offered to me—I shall not tell you how; but I did accept it, and cherished it through much anxiety and repulsion, and in the end I am rewarded. There will be no reward this -time. I think, from such a man--the son of such a man. But I want to do +time. I think, from such a man—the son of such a man. But I want to do what is right.” “Because doing right is its own reward,” said Agnes anxiously. @@ -5422,10 +5512,10 @@ what is right.” simply doing right.” “I think that all you say is wonderfully clever; but since you ask me, -it IS nonsense, dear Rickie, absolutely.” +it _is_ nonsense, dear Rickie, absolutely.” “Thank you,” he said humbly, and began to stroke her hand. “But all my -disgust; my indignation with my father, my love for--” He broke off; he +disgust; my indignation with my father, my love for—” He broke off; he could not bear to mention the name of his mother. “I was trying to say, I oughtn’t to follow these impulses too much. There are others things. Truth. Our duty to acknowledge each man accurately, however vile he @@ -5434,8 +5524,8 @@ ideals aside, I couldn’t meet him and keep silent. It isn’t in me. I should blurt it out.” “But you won’t meet him!” she cried. “It’s all been arranged. We’ve -sent him to the sea. Isn’t it splendid? He’s gone. My own boy won’t -be fantastic, will he?” Then she fought the fantasy on its own ground. +sent him to the sea. Isn’t it splendid? He’s gone. My own boy won’t be +fantastic, will he?” Then she fought the fantasy on its own ground. “And, bye the bye, what you call the ‘symbolic moment’ is over. You had it up by the Rings. You tried to tell him, I interrupted you. It’s not your fault. You did all you could.” @@ -5445,7 +5535,7 @@ gloomy. “So he’s gone to the sea. For the present that does settle it. Has Aunt Emily talked about him yet?” “No. Ask her tomorrow if you wish to know. Ask her kindly. It would be -so dreadful if you did not part friends, and--” +so dreadful if you did not part friends, and—” “What’s that?” @@ -5454,18 +5544,18 @@ out her hand in despair. “Elliot!” the voice called. -They were facing each other, silent and motionless. Then Rickie advanced -to the window. The girl darted in front of him. He thought he had never -seen her so beautiful. She was stopping his advance quite frankly, with -widespread arms. +They were facing each other, silent and motionless. Then Rickie +advanced to the window. The girl darted in front of him. He thought he +had never seen her so beautiful. She was stopping his advance quite +frankly, with widespread arms. “Elliot!” -He moved forward--into what? He pretended to himself he would rather see -his brother before he answered; that it was easier to acknowledge him -thus. But at the back of his soul he knew that the woman had conquered, -and that he was moving forward to acknowledge her. “If he calls me -again--” he thought. +He moved forward—into what? He pretended to himself he would rather +see his brother before he answered; that it was easier to acknowledge +him thus. But at the back of his soul he knew that the woman had +conquered, and that he was moving forward to acknowledge her. “If he +calls me again—” he thought. “Elliot!” @@ -5474,11 +5564,11 @@ again--” he thought. He did not call again. Stephen had really come back for some tobacco, but as he passed under -the windows he thought of the poor fellow who had been “nipped” (nothing -serious, said Mrs. Failing), and determined to shout good-bye to him. -And once or twice, as he followed the river into the darkness, he -wondered what it was like to be so weak,--not to ride, not to swim, not -to care for anything but books and a girl. +the windows he thought of the poor fellow who had been “nipped” +(nothing serious, said Mrs. Failing), and determined to shout good-bye +to him. And once or twice, as he followed the river into the darkness, +he wondered what it was like to be so weak,—not to ride, not to swim, +not to care for anything but books and a girl. They embraced passionately. The danger had brought them very near to each other. They both needed a home to confront the menacing tumultuous @@ -5499,37 +5589,40 @@ He released her and tore the letter up. + XV -The sense of purity is a puzzling and at times a fearful thing. It seems -so noble, and it starts as one with morality. But it is a dangerous -guide, and can lead us away not only from what is gracious, but also -from what is good. Agnes, in this tangle, had followed it blindly, -partly because she was a woman, and it meant more to her than it -can ever mean to a man; partly because, though dangerous, it is also -obvious, and makes no demand upon the intellect. She could not feel that -Stephen had full human rights. He was illicit, abnormal, worse than a -man diseased. And Rickie remembering whose son he was, gradually adopted -her opinion. He, too, came to be glad that his brother had passed from -him untried, that the symbolic moment had been rejected. Stephen was the -fruit of sin; therefore he was sinful, He, too, became a sexual snob. - -And now he must hear the unsavoury details. That evening they sat in the -walled garden. Agues, according to arrangement, left him alone with his -aunt. He asked her, and was not answered. - -“You are shocked,” she said in a hard, mocking voice, “It is very nice + +The sense of purity is a puzzling and at times a fearful thing. It +seems so noble, and it starts as one with morality. But it is a +dangerous guide, and can lead us away not only from what is gracious, +but also from what is good. Agnes, in this tangle, had followed it +blindly, partly because she was a woman, and it meant more to her than +it can ever mean to a man; partly because, though dangerous, it is also +obvious, and makes no demand upon the intellect. She could not feel +that Stephen had full human rights. He was illicit, abnormal, worse +than a man diseased. And Rickie remembering whose son he was, gradually +adopted her opinion. He, too, came to be glad that his brother had +passed from him untried, that the symbolic moment had been rejected. +Stephen was the fruit of sin; therefore he was sinful. He, too, became +a sexual snob. + +And now he must hear the unsavoury details. That evening they sat in +the walled garden. Agnes, according to arrangement, left him alone with +his aunt. He asked her, and was not answered. + +“You are shocked,” she said in a hard, mocking voice. “It is very nice of you to be shocked, and I do not wish to grieve you further. We will not allude to it again. Let us all go on just as we are. The comedy is finished.” -He could not tolerate this. His nerves were shattered, and all that was -good in him revolted as well. To the horror of Agnes, who was within -earshot, he replied, “You used to puzzle me, Aunt Emily, but I +He could not tolerate this. His nerves were shattered, and all that +was good in him revolted as well. To the horror of Agnes, who was +within earshot, he replied, “You used to puzzle me, Aunt Emily, but I understand you at last. You have forgotten what other people are like. Continual selfishness leads to that. I am sure of it. I see now how you -look at the world. ‘Nice of me to be shocked!’ I want to go tomorrow, if -I may.” +look at the world. ‘Nice of me to be shocked!’ I want to go tomorrow, +if I may.” “Certainly, dear. The morning trains are the best.” And so the disastrous visit ended. @@ -5551,8 +5644,8 @@ for about half an hour they hunted in the flickering light of a candle. It was a strange, ghostly place, and Rickie was quite startled when a picture swung towards him, and he saw the Demeter of Cnidus, shimmering and grey. Leighton suggested the roof. Mr. Stephen sometimes left -things on the roof. So they climbed out of the skylight--the night was -perfectly still--and continued the search among the gables. Enormous +things on the roof. So they climbed out of the skylight—the night was +perfectly still—and continued the search among the gables. Enormous stars hung overhead, and the roof was bounded by chasms, impenetrable and black. “It doesn’t matter,” said Rickie, suddenly convinced of the futility of all that he did. “Oh, let us look properly,” said Leighton, @@ -5560,8 +5653,8 @@ a kindly, pliable man, who had tried to shirk coming, but who was genuinely sympathetic now that he had come. They were rewarded: the manuscript lay in a gutter, charred and smudged. -The rest of the year was spent by Rickie partly in bed,--he had a -curious breakdown,--partly in the attempt to get his little stories +The rest of the year was spent by Rickie partly in bed,—he had a +curious breakdown,—partly in the attempt to get his little stories published. He had written eight or nine, and hoped they would make up a book, and that the book might be called “Pan Pipes.” He was very energetic over this; he liked to work, for some imperceptible bloom had @@ -5571,12 +5664,12 @@ replied that, greatly as they found themselves interested, they did not see their way to making an offer at present. They were very polite, and singled out for special praise “Andante Pastorale,” which Rickie had thought too sentimental, but which Agnes had persuaded him to include. -The stories were sent to another publisher, who considered them for six -weeks, and then returned them. A fragment of red cotton, Placed by Agnes -between the leaves, had not shifted its position. +The stories were sent to another publisher, who considered them for +six weeks, and then returned them. A fragment of red cotton, placed by +Agnes between the leaves, had not shifted its position. “Can’t you try something longer, Rickie?” she said; “I believe we’re on -the wrong track. Try an out--and--out love-story.” +the wrong track. Try an out-and-out love-story.” “My notion just now,” he replied, “is to leave the passions on the fringe.” She nodded, and tapped for the waiter: they had met in a @@ -5585,27 +5678,27 @@ the musicians have the pull, for music has wings, and when she says ‘Tristan’ and he says ‘Isolde,’ you are on the heights at once. What do people mean when they call love music artificial?” -“I know what they mean, though I can’t exactly explain. Or couldn’t -you make your stories more obvious? I don’t see any harm in that. Uncle +“I know what they mean, though I can’t exactly explain. Or couldn’t you +make your stories more obvious? I don’t see any harm in that. Uncle Willie floundered hopelessly. He doesn’t read much, and he got muddled. -I had to explain, and then he was delighted. Of course, to write down to -the public would be quite another thing and horrible. You have certain -ideas, and you must express them. But couldn’t you express them more -clearly?” - -“You see--” He got no further than “you see.” - -“The soul and the body. The soul’s what matters,” said Agnes, and tapped -for the waiter again. He looked at her admiringly, but felt that she was -not a perfect critic. Perhaps she was too perfect to be a critic. Actual -life might seem to her so real that she could not detect the union of -shadow and adamant that men call poetry. He would even go further and -acknowledge that she was not as clever as himself--and he was stupid -enough! She did not like discussing anything or reading solid books, and -she was a little angry with such women as did. It pleased him to make -these concessions, for they touched nothing in her that he valued. He -looked round the restaurant, which was in Soho and decided that she was -incomparable. +I had to explain, and then he was delighted. Of course, to write down +to the public would be quite another thing and horrible. You have +certain ideas, and you must express them. But couldn’t you express them +more clearly?” + +“You see—” He got no further than “you see.” + +“The soul and the body. The soul’s what matters,” said Agnes, and +tapped for the waiter again. He looked at her admiringly, but felt +that she was not a perfect critic. Perhaps she was too perfect to be a +critic. Actual life might seem to her so real that she could not detect +the union of shadow and adamant that men call poetry. He would even +go further and acknowledge that she was not as clever as himself—and +he was stupid enough! She did not like discussing anything or reading +solid books, and she was a little angry with such women as did. It +pleased him to make these concessions, for they touched nothing in her +that he valued. He looked round the restaurant, which was in Soho and +decided that she was incomparable. “At half-past two I call on the editor of the ‘Holborn.’ He’s got a stray story to look at, and he’s written about it.” @@ -5625,7 +5718,7 @@ She shook her head. “Naughty, naughty boy! Whatever will you do?” “Send in my name, or ask for a bit of paper and write it. Hullo! that’s Tilliard!” -Tilliard blushed, partly on account of the faux pas he had made last +Tilliard blushed, partly on account of the _faux pas_ he had made last June, partly on account of the restaurant. He explained how he came to be pigging in Soho: it was so frightfully convenient and so frightfully cheap. @@ -5637,7 +5730,7 @@ cheap. “I don’t know,” said Rickie, gazing round at the waiters and the guests. “Doesn’t one want to see a good deal of life for writing? There’s life -of a sort in Soho,--Un peu de faisan, s’il vows plait.” +of a sort in Soho,—_Un peu de faisan, s’il vous plait_.” Agnes also grabbed at the waiter, and paid. She always did the paying, Rickie muddled with his purse. @@ -5647,7 +5740,7 @@ with very little at present. But later on I hope to see things.” He blushed a little, for he was talking for Rickie’s edification. “It is most frightfully important not to get a narrow or academic outlook, don’t you think? A person like Ansell, who goes from Cambridge, -home--home, Cambridge--it must tell on him in time.” +home—home, Cambridge—it must tell on him in time.” “But Mr. Ansell is a philosopher.” @@ -5658,7 +5751,7 @@ philosopher. How goes his dissertation?” heard nothing since June.” “It’s a pity he sends in this year. There are so many good people in. -He’d have afar better chance if he waited.” +He’d have a far better chance if he waited.” “So I said, but he wouldn’t wait. He’s so keen about this particular subject.” @@ -5673,15 +5766,15 @@ subject.” Tilliard! Later on, I hope, we’ll meet again.” They parted. Tilliard liked her, though he did not feel that she was -quite in his couche sociale. His sister, for instance, would never have -been lured into a Soho restaurant--except for the experience of the -thing. Tilliard’s couche sociale permitted experiences. Provided his +quite in his _couche sociale_. His sister, for instance, would never +have been lured into a Soho restaurant—except for the experience of the +thing. Tilliard’s _couche sociale_ permitted experiences. Provided his heart did not go out to the poor and the unorthodox, he might stare at them as much as he liked. It was seeing life. Agnes put her lover safely into an omnibus at Cambridge Circus. She -shouted after him that his tie was rising over his collar, but he -did not hear her. For a moment she felt depressed, and pictured quite +shouted after him that his tie was rising over his collar, but he did +not hear her. For a moment she felt depressed, and pictured quite accurately the effect that his appearance would have on the editor. The editor was a tall neat man of forty, slow of speech, slow of soul, and extraordinarily kind. He and Rickie sat over a fire, with an enormous @@ -5691,31 +5784,31 @@ table behind them whereon stood many books waiting to be reviewed. Rickie smiled feebly. -“Your story does not convince.” He tapped it. “I have read it with very +“Your story does not convince.” He tapped it. “I have read it—with very great pleasure. It convinces in parts, but it does not convince as a whole; and stories, don’t you think, ought to convince as a whole?” “They ought indeed,” said Rickie, and plunged into self-depreciation. But the editor checked him. -“No--no. Please don’t talk like that. I can’t bear to hear any one talk -against imagination. There are countless openings for imagination,--for -the mysterious, for the supernatural, for all the things you are trying -to do, and which, I hope, you will succeed in doing. I’m not OBJECTING -to imagination; on the contrary, I’d advise you to cultivate it, to -accent it. Write a really good ghost story and we’d take it at once. -Or”--he suggested it as an alternative to imagination--“or you might get -inside life. It’s worth doing.” +“No—no. Please don’t talk like that. I can’t bear to hear any +one talk against imagination. There are countless openings for +imagination,—for the mysterious, for the supernatural, for all the +things you are trying to do, and which, I hope, you will succeed in +doing. I’m not _objecting_ to imagination; on the contrary, I’d advise +you to cultivate it, to accent it. Write a really good ghost story +and we’d take it at once. Or”—he suggested it as an alternative to +imagination—“or you might get inside life. It’s worth doing.” “Life?” echoed Rickie anxiously. He looked round the pleasant room, as if life might be fluttering there like an imprisoned bird. Then he looked at the editor: perhaps he was -sitting inside life at this very moment. “See life, Mr. Elliot, and then -send us another story.” He held out his hand. “I am sorry I have to say -‘No, thank you’; it’s so much nicer to say, ‘Yes, please.’” He laid his -hand on the young man’s sleeve, and added, “Well, the interview’s not -been so alarming after all, has it?” +sitting inside life at this very moment. “See life, Mr. Elliot, and +then send us another story.” He held out his hand. “I am sorry I have +to say ‘No, thank you’; it’s so much nicer to say, ‘Yes, please.’” +He laid his hand on the young man’s sleeve, and added, “Well, the +interview’s not been so alarming after all, has it?” “I don’t think that either of us is a very alarming person,” was not Rickie’s reply. It was what he thought out afterwards in the omnibus. @@ -5723,23 +5816,23 @@ His reply was “Ow,” delivered with a slight giggle. As he rumbled westward, his face was drawn, and his eyes moved quickly to the right and left, as if he would discover something in the squalid -fashionable streets some bird on the wing, some radiant archway, the -face of some god beneath a beaver hat. He loved, he was loved, he had -seen death and other things; but the heart of all things was hidden. -There was a password and he could not learn it, nor could the kind -editor of the “Holborn” teach him. He sighed, and then sighed more -piteously. For had he not known the password once--known it and +fashionable streets some bird on the wing, some radiant archway, +the face of some god beneath a beaver hat. He loved, he was loved, +he had seen death and other things; but the heart of all things was +hidden. There was a password and he could not learn it, nor could the +kind editor of the “Holborn” teach him. He sighed, and then sighed +more piteously. For had he not known the password once—known it and forgotten it already? But at this point his fortunes become intimately connected with those of Mr. Pembroke. -PART 2 -- SAWSTON - +PART 2 — SAWSTON XVI + In three years Mr. Pembroke had done much to solidify the day-boys at Sawston School. If they were not solid, they were at all events curdling, and his activities might reasonably turn elsewhere. He had @@ -5752,53 +5845,54 @@ time he should be entrusted with a boarding-house. Consequently, when Dunwood House fell vacant the headmaster found himself in rather a difficult position. -Dunwood House was the largest and most lucrative of the boarding-houses. -It stood almost opposite the school buildings. Originally it had been -a villa residence--a red-brick villa, covered with creepers and crowned -with terracotta dragons. Mr. Annison, founder of its glory, had lived -here, and had had one or two boys to live with him. Times changed. The -fame of the bishops blazed brighter, the school increased, the one or -two boys became a dozen, and an addition was made to Dunwood House that -more than doubled its size. A huge new building, replete with every -convenience, was stuck on to its right flank. Dormitories, cubicles, -studies, a preparation-room, a dining-room, parquet floors, hot-air -pipes--no expense was spared, and the twelve boys roamed over it like -princes. Baize doors communicated on every floor with Mr. Annison’s -part, and he, an anxious gentleman, would stroll backwards and forwards, -a little depressed at the hygienic splendours, and conscious of some -vanished intimacy. Somehow he had known his boys better when they had -all muddled together as one family, and algebras lay strewn upon the -drawing room chairs. As the house filled, his interest in it decreased. -When he retired--which he did the same summer that Rickie left -Cambridge--it had already passed the summit of excellence and was -beginning to decline. Its numbers were still satisfactory, and for a -little time it would subsist on its past reputation. But that mysterious -asset the tone had lowered, and it was therefore of great importance -that Mr. Annison’s successor should be a first-class man. Mr. Coates, -who came next in seniority, was passed over, and rightly. The choice lay -between Mr. Pembroke and Mr. Jackson, the one an organizer, the other a -humanist. Mr. Jackson was master of the Sixth, and--with the exception -of the headmaster, who was too busy to impart knowledge--the only -first-class intellect in the school. But he could not or rather would -not, keep order. He told his form that if it chose to listen to him it -would learn; if it didn’t, it wouldn’t. One half listened. The other -half made paper frogs, and bored holes in the raised map of Italy with -their penknives. When the penknives gritted he punished them with undue -severity, and then forgot to make them show the punishments up. Yet out -of this chaos two facts emerged. Half the boys got scholarships at -the University, and some of them--including several of the paper-frog -sort--remained friends with him throughout their lives. Moreover, he was -rich, and had a competent wife. His claim to Dunwood House was stronger -than one would have supposed. +Dunwood House was the largest and most lucrative of the +boarding-houses. It stood almost opposite the school buildings. +Originally it had been a villa residence—a red-brick villa, covered +with creepers and crowned with terracotta dragons. Mr. Annison, founder +of its glory, had lived here, and had had one or two boys to live +with him. Times changed. The fame of the bishops blazed brighter, the +school increased, the one or two boys became a dozen, and an addition +was made to Dunwood House that more than doubled its size. A huge +new building, replete with every convenience, was stuck on to its +right flank. Dormitories, cubicles, studies, a preparation-room, a +dining-room, parquet floors, hot-air pipes—no expense was spared, and +the twelve boys roamed over it like princes. Baize doors communicated +on every floor with Mr. Annison’s part, and he, an anxious gentleman, +would stroll backwards and forwards, a little depressed at the hygienic +splendours, and conscious of some vanished intimacy. Somehow he had +known his boys better when they had all muddled together as one family, +and algebras lay strewn upon the drawing room chairs. As the house +filled, his interest in it decreased. When he retired—which he did +the same summer that Rickie left Cambridge—it had already passed the +summit of excellence and was beginning to decline. Its numbers were +still satisfactory, and for a little time it would subsist on its past +reputation. But that mysterious asset the tone had lowered, and it +was therefore of great importance that Mr. Annison’s successor should +be a first-class man. Mr. Coates, who came next in seniority, was +passed over, and rightly. The choice lay between Mr. Pembroke and Mr. +Jackson, the one an organizer, the other a humanist. Mr. Jackson was +master of the Sixth, and—with the exception of the headmaster, who was +too busy to impart knowledge—the only first-class intellect in the +school. But he could not or rather would not, keep order. He told his +form that if it chose to listen to him it would learn; if it didn’t, +it wouldn’t. One half listened. The other half made paper frogs, and +bored holes in the raised map of Italy with their penknives. When the +penknives gritted he punished them with undue severity, and then forgot +to make them show the punishments up. Yet out of this chaos two facts +emerged. Half the boys got scholarships at the University, and some of +them—including several of the paper-frog sort—remained friends with +him throughout their lives. Moreover, he was rich, and had a competent +wife. His claim to Dunwood House was stronger than one would have +supposed. The qualifications of Mr. Pembroke have already been indicated. They -prevailed--but under conditions. If things went wrong, he must promise +prevailed—but under conditions. If things went wrong, he must promise to resign. “In the first place,” said the headmaster, “you are doing so splendidly with the day-boys. Your attitude towards the parents is magnificent. -I--don’t know how to replace you there. Whereas, of course, the parents -of a boarder--” +I—don’t know how to replace you there. Whereas, of course, the parents +of a boarder—” “Of course,” said Mr. Pembroke. @@ -5807,41 +5901,41 @@ discontented with the school, was naturally in a more independent position than the parent who had brought all his goods and chattels to Sawston, and was renting a house there. -“Now the parents of boarders--this is my second point--practically +“Now the parents of boarders—this is my second point—practically demand that the house-master should have a wife.” “A most unreasonable demand,” said Mr. Pembroke. “To my mind also a bright motherly matron is quite sufficient. But that -is what they demand. And that is why--do you see?--we HAVE to regard +is what they demand. And that is why—do you see?—we _have_ to regard your appointment as experimental. Possibly Miss Pembroke will be able -to help you. Or I don’t know whether if ever--” He left the sentence +to help you. Or I don’t know whether if ever—” He left the sentence unfinished. Two days later Mr. Pembroke proposed to Mrs. Orr. He had always intended to marry when he could afford it; and once he -had been in love, violently in love, but had laid the passion aside, and -told it to wait till a more convenient season. This was, of course, the -proper thing to do, and prudence should have been rewarded. But when, -after the lapse of fifteen years, he went, as it were, to his spiritual -larder and took down Love from the top shelf to offer him to Mrs. Orr, -he was rather dismayed. Something had happened. Perhaps the god had -flown; perhaps he had been eaten by the rats. At all events, he was not -there. +had been in love, violently in love, but had laid the passion aside, +and told it to wait till a more convenient season. This was, of course, +the proper thing to do, and prudence should have been rewarded. But +when, after the lapse of fifteen years, he went, as it were, to his +spiritual larder and took down Love from the top shelf to offer him to +Mrs. Orr, he was rather dismayed. Something had happened. Perhaps the +god had flown; perhaps he had been eaten by the rats. At all events, he +was not there. Mr. Pembroke was conscientious and romantic, and knew that marriage -without love is intolerable. On the other hand, he could not admit -that love had vanished from him. To admit this, would argue that he had +without love is intolerable. On the other hand, he could not admit that +love had vanished from him. To admit this, would argue that he had deteriorated. -Whereas he knew for a fact that he had improved, year by year. Each year -be grew more moral, more efficient, more learned, more genial. So how -could he fail to be more loving? He did not speak to himself as follows, -because he never spoke to himself; but the following notions moved in -the recesses of his mind: “It is not the fire of youth. But I am not -sure that I approve of the fire of youth. Look at my sister! Once she -has suffered, twice she has been most imprudent, and put me to great -inconvenience besides, for if she was stopping with me she would have -done the housekeeping. I rather suspect that it is a nobler, riper +Whereas he knew for a fact that he had improved, year by year. Each +year be grew more moral, more efficient, more learned, more genial. So +how could he fail to be more loving? He did not speak to himself as +follows, because he never spoke to himself; but the following notions +moved in the recesses of his mind: “It is not the fire of youth. But +I am not sure that I approve of the fire of youth. Look at my sister! +Once she has suffered, twice she has been most imprudent, and put me to +great inconvenience besides, for if she was stopping with me she would +have done the housekeeping. I rather suspect that it is a nobler, riper emotion that I am laying at the feet of Mrs. Orr.” It never took him long to get muddled, or to reverse cause and effect. In a short time he believed that he had been pining for years, and only waiting for this @@ -5851,55 +5945,56 @@ Mrs. Orr was quiet, clever, kindly, capable, and amusing and they were old acquaintances. Altogether it was not surprising that he should ask her to be his wife, nor very surprising that she should refuse. But she refused with a violence that alarmed them both. He left her house -declaring that he had been insulted, and she, as soon as he left, passed -from disgust into tears. +declaring that he had been insulted, and she, as soon as he left, +passed from disgust into tears. He was much annoyed. There was a certain Miss Herriton who, though far inferior to Mrs. Orr, would have done instead of her. But now it was impossible. He could not go offering himself about Sawston. Having engaged a matron who had the reputation for being bright and motherly, he moved into Dunwood House and opened the Michaelmas term. Everything -went wrong. The cook left; the boys had a disease called roseola; Agnes, -who was still drunk with her engagement, was of no assistance, but kept -flying up to London to push Rickie’s fortunes; and, to crown everything, -the matron was too bright and not motherly enough: she neglected the -little boys and was overattentive to the big ones. She left abruptly, -and the voice of Mrs. Jackson arose, prophesying disaster. +went wrong. The cook left; the boys had a disease called roseola; +Agnes, who was still drunk with her engagement, was of no assistance, +but kept flying up to London to push Rickie’s fortunes; and, to crown +everything, the matron was too bright and not motherly enough: she +neglected the little boys and was overattentive to the big ones. +She left abruptly, and the voice of Mrs. Jackson arose, prophesying +disaster. Should he avert it by taking orders? Parents do not demand that a house-master should be a clergyman, yet it reassures them when he is. And he would have to take orders some time, if he hoped for a school of his own. His religious convictions were ready to hand, but he spent -several uncomfortable days hunting up his religious enthusiasms. It -was not unlike his attempt to marry Mrs. Orr. But his piety was more -genuine, and this time he never came to the point. His sense of decency -forbade him hurrying into a Church that he reverenced. Moreover, he -thought of another solution: Agnes must marry Rickie in the Christmas -holidays, and they must come, both of them, to Sawston, she as -housekeeper, he as assistant-master. The girl was a good worker when -once she was settled down; and as for Rickie, he could easily be fitted -in somewhere in the school. He was not a good classic, but good enough -to take the Lower Fifth. He was no athlete, but boys might profitably -note that he was a perfect gentleman all the same. He had no experience, -but he would gain it. He had no decision, but he could simulate it. -“Above all,” thought Mr. Pembroke, “it will be something regular for -him to do.” Of course this was not “above all.” Dunwood House held that -position. But Mr. Pembroke soon came to think that it was, and believed -that he was planning for Rickie, just as he had believed he was pining -for Mrs. Orr. - -Agnes, when she got back from the lunch in Soho, was told of the plan. -She refused to give any opinion until she had seen her lover. A telegram -was sent to him, and next morning he arrived. He was very susceptible to -the weather, and perhaps it was unfortunate that the morning was foggy. -His train had been stopped outside Sawston Station, and there he had -sat for half an hour, listening to the unreal noises that came from the -line, and watching the shadowy figures that worked there. The gas was -alight in the great drawing-room, and in its depressing rays he and -Agnes greeted each other, and discussed the most momentous question of -their lives. They wanted to be married: there was no doubt of that. -They wanted it, both of them, dreadfully. But should they marry on these -terms? +several uncomfortable days hunting up his religious enthusiasms. +It was not unlike his attempt to marry Mrs. Orr. But his piety was +more genuine, and this time he never came to the point. His sense +of decency forbade him hurrying into a Church that he reverenced. +Moreover, he thought of another solution: Agnes must marry Rickie in +the Christmas holidays, and they must come, both of them, to Sawston, +she as housekeeper, he as assistant-master. The girl was a good worker +when once she was settled down; and as for Rickie, he could easily +be fitted in somewhere in the school. He was not a good classic, but +good enough to take the Lower Fifth. He was no athlete, but boys might +profitably note that he was a perfect gentleman all the same. He had +no experience, but he would gain it. He had no decision, but he could +simulate it. “Above all,” thought Mr. Pembroke, “it will be something +regular for him to do.” Of course this was not “above all.” Dunwood +House held that position. But Mr. Pembroke soon came to think that +it was, and believed that he was planning for Rickie, just as he had +believed he was pining for Mrs. Orr. + +Agnes, when she got back from the lunch in Soho, was told of the +plan. She refused to give any opinion until she had seen her lover. +A telegram was sent to him, and next morning he arrived. He was very +susceptible to the weather, and perhaps it was unfortunate that the +morning was foggy. His train had been stopped outside Sawston Station, +and there he had sat for half an hour, listening to the unreal noises +that came from the line, and watching the shadowy figures that worked +there. The gas was alight in the great drawing-room, and in its +depressing rays he and Agnes greeted each other, and discussed the most +momentous question of their lives. They wanted to be married: there was +no doubt of that. They wanted it, both of them, dreadfully. But should +they marry on these terms? “I’d never thought of such a thing, you see. When the scholastic agencies sent me circulars after the Tripos, I tore them up at once.” @@ -5907,17 +6002,18 @@ agencies sent me circulars after the Tripos, I tore them up at once.” “There are the holidays,” said Agnes. “You would have three months in the year to yourself, and you could do your writing then.” -“But who’ll read what I’ve written?” and he told her about the editor of -the “Holborn.” +“But who’ll read what I’ve written?” and he told her about the editor +of the “Holborn.” She became extremely grave. At the bottom of her heart she had always -mistrusted the little stories, and now people who knew agreed with her. -How could Rickie, or any one, make a living by pretending that Greek -gods were alive, or that young ladies could vanish into trees? A -sparkling society tale, full of verve and pathos, would have been +mistrusted the little stories, and now people who knew agreed with +her. How could Rickie, or any one, make a living by pretending that +Greek gods were alive, or that young ladies could vanish into trees? +A sparkling society tale, full of verve and pathos, would have been another thing, and the editor might have been convinced by it. -“But what does he mean?” Rickie was saying. “What does he mean by life?” +“But what does he _mean_?” Rickie was saying. “What does he _mean_ by +life?” “I know what he means, but I can’t exactly explain. You ought to see life, Rickie. I think he’s right there. And Mr. Tilliard was right when @@ -5936,18 +6032,18 @@ the epithet had been applied to him. “If we did marry, we might get to Italy at Easter and escape this horrible fog.” -“Yes. Perhaps there--” Perhaps life would be there. He thought of Renan, -who declares that on the Acropolis at Athens beauty and wisdom do exist, -really exist, as external powers. He did not aspire to beauty or wisdom, -but he prayed to be delivered from the shadow of unreality that had -begun to darken the world. For it was as if some power had pronounced -against him--as if, by some heedless action, he had offended an Olympian -god. Like many another, he wondered whether the god might be appeased by -work--hard uncongenial work. Perhaps he had not worked hard enough, -or had enjoyed his work too much, and for that reason the shadow was -falling. - -“--And above all, a schoolmaster has wonderful opportunities for doing +“Yes. Perhaps there—” Perhaps life would be there. He thought of +Renan, who declares that on the Acropolis at Athens beauty and wisdom +do exist, really exist, as external powers. He did not aspire to beauty +or wisdom, but he prayed to be delivered from the shadow of unreality +that had begun to darken the world. For it was as if some power had +pronounced against him—as if, by some heedless action, he had offended +an Olympian god. Like many another, he wondered whether the god might +be appeased by work—hard uncongenial work. Perhaps he had not worked +hard enough, or had enjoyed his work too much, and for that reason the +shadow was falling. + +“—And above all, a schoolmaster has wonderful opportunities for doing good; one mustn’t forget that.” To do good! For what other reason are we here? Let us give up our @@ -5970,23 +6066,25 @@ might heal as he laboured, and his eyes recapture the Holy Grail. + XVII + In practical matters Mr. Pembroke was often a generous man. He offered Rickie a good salary, and insisted on paying Agnes as well. And as he -housed them for nothing, and as Rickie would also have a salary from the -school, the money question disappeared--if not forever, at all events -for the present. +housed them for nothing, and as Rickie would also have a salary from +the school, the money question disappeared—if not forever, at all +events for the present. “I can work you in,” he said. “Leave all that to me, and in a few days you shall hear from the headmaster. He shall create a vacancy. And once in, we stand or fall together. I am resolved on that.” -Rickie did not like the idea of being “worked in,” but he was determined -to raise no difficulties. It is so easy to be refined and high-minded -when we have nothing to do. But the active, useful man cannot be equally -particular. Rickie’s programme involved a change in values as well as a -change of occupation. +Rickie did not like the idea of being “worked in,” but he was +determined to raise no difficulties. It is so easy to be refined and +high-minded when we have nothing to do. But the active, useful man +cannot be equally particular. Rickie’s programme involved a change in +values as well as a change of occupation. “Adopt a frankly intellectual attitude,” Mr. Pembroke continued. “I do not advise you at present even to profess any interest in athletics or @@ -5997,68 +6095,68 @@ best. Take your stand upon classics and general culture.” Classics! A second in the Tripos. General culture. A smattering of English Literature, and less than a smattering of French. -“That is how we begin. Then we get you a little post--say that of +“That is how we begin. Then we get you a little post—say that of librarian. And so on, until you are indispensable.” -Rickie laughed; the headmaster wrote, the reply was satisfactory, and in -due course the new life began. +Rickie laughed; the headmaster wrote, the reply was satisfactory, and +in due course the new life began. Sawston was already familiar to him. But he knew it as an amateur, and under an official gaze it grouped itself afresh. The school, a bland Gothic building, now showed as a fortress of learning, whose outworks -were the boarding-houses. Those straggling roads were full of the houses -of the parents of the day-boys. These shops were in bounds, those out. -How often had he passed Dunwood House! He had once confused it with its -rival, Cedar View. Now he was to live there--perhaps for many years. -On the left of the entrance a large saffron drawing-room, full of cosy -corners and dumpy chairs: here the parents would be received. On the -right of the entrance a study, which he shared with Herbert: here -the boys would be caned--he hoped not often. In the hall a framed -certificate praising the drains, the bust of Hermes, and a carved -teak monkey holding out a salver. Some of the furniture had come from -Shelthorpe, some had been bought from Mr. Annison, some of it was new. -But throughout he recognized a certain decision of arrangement. Nothing -in the house was accidental, or there merely for its own sake. He -contrasted it with his room at Cambridge, which had been a jumble of -things that he loved dearly and of things that he did not love at all. -Now these also had come to Dunwood House, and had been distributed where -each was seemly--Sir Percival to the drawing-room, the photograph of -Stockholm to the passage, his chair, his inkpot, and the portrait of his -mother to the study. And then he contrasted it with the Ansells’ house, -to which their resolute ill-taste had given unity. He was extremely -sensitive to the inside of a house, holding it an organism that -expressed the thoughts, conscious and subconscious, of its inmates. -He was equally sensitive to places. He would compare Cambridge with -Sawston, and either with a third type of existence, to which, for want -of a better name, he gave the name of “Wiltshire.” +were the boarding-houses. Those straggling roads were full of the +houses of the parents of the day-boys. These shops were in bounds, +those out. How often had he passed Dunwood House! He had once confused +it with its rival, Cedar View. Now he was to live there—perhaps for +many years. On the left of the entrance a large saffron drawing-room, +full of cosy corners and dumpy chairs: here the parents would be +received. On the right of the entrance a study, which he shared with +Herbert: here the boys would be caned—he hoped not often. In the hall +a framed certificate praising the drains, the bust of Hermes, and a +carved teak monkey holding out a salver. Some of the furniture had come +from Shelthorpe, some had been bought from Mr. Annison, some of it was +new. But throughout he recognized a certain decision of arrangement. +Nothing in the house was accidental, or there merely for its own sake. +He contrasted it with his room at Cambridge, which had been a jumble +of things that he loved dearly and of things that he did not love at +all. Now these also had come to Dunwood House, and had been distributed +where each was seemly—Sir Percival to the drawing-room, the photograph +of Stockholm to the passage, his chair, his inkpot, and the portrait of +his mother to the study. And then he contrasted it with the Ansells’ +house, to which their resolute ill-taste had given unity. He was +extremely sensitive to the inside of a house, holding it an organism +that expressed the thoughts, conscious and subconscious, of its +inmates. He was equally sensitive to places. He would compare Cambridge +with Sawston, and either with a third type of existence, to which, for +want of a better name, he gave the name of “Wiltshire.” It must not be thought that he is going to waste his time. These contrasts and comparisons never took him long, and he never indulged in them until the serious business of the day was over. And, as time passed, he never indulged in them at all. The school returned at the -end of January, before he had been settled in a week. His health -had improved, but not greatly, and he was nervous at the prospect of +end of January, before he had been settled in a week. His health had +improved, but not greatly, and he was nervous at the prospect of confronting the assembled house. All day long cabs had been driving up, full of boys in bowler hats too big for them; and Agnes had been -superintending the numbering of the said hats, and the placing of them -in cupboards, since they would not be wanted till the end of the term. -Each boy had, or should have had, a bag, so that he need not unpack his -box till the morrow, One boy had only a brown-paper parcel, tied with -hairy string, and Rickie heard the firm pleasant voice say, “But you’ll -bring a bag next term,” and the submissive, “Yes, Mrs. Elliot,” of the -reply. In the passage he ran against the head boy, who was alarmingly -like an undergraduate. They looked at each other suspiciously, and -parted. Two minutes later he ran into another boy, and then into -another, and began to wonder whether they were doing it on purpose, and -if so, whether he ought to mind. As the day wore on, the noises grew -louder-trampings of feet, breakdowns, jolly little squawks--and -the cubicles were assigned, and the bags unpacked, and the bathing -arrangements posted up, and Herbert kept on saying, “All this is -informal--all this is informal. We shall meet the house at eight +superintending the numbering of the said hats, and the placing of +them in cupboards, since they would not be wanted till the end of the +term. Each boy had, or should have had, a bag, so that he need not +unpack his box till the morrow. One boy had only a brown-paper parcel, +tied with hairy string, and Rickie heard the firm pleasant voice say, +“But you’ll bring a bag next term,” and the submissive, “Yes, Mrs. +Elliot,” of the reply. In the passage he ran against the head boy, +who was alarmingly like an undergraduate. They looked at each other +suspiciously, and parted. Two minutes later he ran into another boy, +and then into another, and began to wonder whether they were doing it +on purpose, and if so, whether he ought to mind. As the day wore on, +the noises grew louder—trampings of feet, breakdowns, jolly little +squawks—and the cubicles were assigned, and the bags unpacked, and the +bathing arrangements posted up, and Herbert kept on saying, “All this +is informal—all this is informal. We shall meet the house at eight fifteen.” -And so, at eight ten, Rickie put on his cap and gown,--hitherto symbols -of pupilage, now to be symbols of dignity,--the very cap and gown that +And so, at eight ten, Rickie put on his cap and gown,—hitherto symbols +of pupilage, now to be symbols of dignity,—the very cap and gown that Widdrington had so recently hung upon the college fountain. Herbert, similarly attired, was waiting for him in their private dining-room, where also sat Agnes, ravenously devouring scrambled eggs. “But you’ll @@ -6072,7 +6170,7 @@ Whelk.” And another young devil yelled, “The Whelk’s brought a pet with him!” “You mustn’t mind,” said Herbert kindly. “We masters make a point of -never minding nicknames--unless, of course, they are applied openly, in +never minding nicknames—unless, of course, they are applied openly, in which case a thousand lines is not too much.” Rickie assented, and they entered the preparation room just as the prefects had established order. @@ -6087,33 +6185,33 @@ attended. The room was almost full. The prefects, instead of lolling disdainfully in the back row, were ranged like councillors beneath the central -throne. This was an innovation of Mr. Pembroke’s. Carruthers, the head -boy, sat in the middle, with his arm round Lloyd. It was Lloyd who had -made the matron too bright: he nearly lost his colours in consequence. -These two were grown up. Beside them sat Tewson, a saintly child in -the spectacles, who had risen to this height by reason of his immense -learning. He, like the others, was a school prefect. The house prefects, -an inferior brand, were beyond, and behind came the indistinguishable -many. The faces all looked alike as yet--except the face of one boy, who -was inclined to cry. +throne. This was an innovation of Mr. Pembroke’s. Carruthers, the +head boy, sat in the middle, with his arm round Lloyd. It was Lloyd +who had made the matron too bright: he nearly lost his colours in +consequence. These two were grown up. Beside them sat Tewson, a saintly +child in the spectacles, who had risen to this height by reason of +his immense learning. He, like the others, was a school prefect. The +house prefects, an inferior brand, were beyond, and behind came the +indistinguishable many. The faces all looked alike as yet—except the +face of one boy, who was inclined to cry. “School,” said Mr. Pembroke, slowly closing the lid of the -desk,--“school is the world in miniature.” Then he paused, as a man well -may who has made such a remark. It is not, however, the intention of -this work to quote an opening address. Rickie, at all events, refused to -be critical: Herbert’s experience was far greater than his, and he must -take his tone from him. Nor could any one criticize the exhortations -to be patriotic, athletic, learned, and religious, that flowed like -a four-part fugue from Mr. Pembroke’s mouth. He was a practised -speaker--that is to say, he held his audience’s attention. He told them -that this term, the second of his reign, was THE term for Dunwood House; -that it behooved every boy to labour during it for his house’s honour, -and, through the house, for the honour of the school. Taking a wider -range, he spoke of England, or rather of Great Britain, and of her -continental foes. Portraits of empire-builders hung on the wall, and he -pointed to them. He quoted imperial poets. He showed how patriotism had -broadened since the days of Shakespeare, who, for all his genius, could -only write of his country as-- +desk,—“school is the world in miniature.” Then he paused, as a man +well may who has made such a remark. It is not, however, the intention +of this work to quote an opening address. Rickie, at all events, +refused to be critical: Herbert’s experience was far greater than his, +and he must take his tone from him. Nor could any one criticize the +exhortations to be patriotic, athletic, learned, and religious, that +flowed like a four-part fugue from Mr. Pembroke’s mouth. He was a +practised speaker—that is to say, he held his audience’s attention. He +told them that this term, the second of his reign, was _the_ term for +Dunwood House; that it behooved every boy to labour during it for his +house’s honour, and, through the house, for the honour of the school. +Taking a wider range, he spoke of England, or rather of Great Britain, +and of her continental foes. Portraits of empire-builders hung on the +wall, and he pointed to them. He quoted imperial poets. He showed how +patriotism had broadened since the days of Shakespeare, who, for all +his genius, could only write of his country as— “This fortress built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This hazy breed of men, this little world, This precious @@ -6129,13 +6227,13 @@ anthem, recently composed by the organist. Words and tune were still a matter for taste, and it was Mr. Pembroke (and he only because he had the music) who gave the right intonation to - “Perish each laggard! + “Perish each laggard! Let it not be said That Sawston such within her walls hath bred.” “Come, come,” he said pleasantly, as they ended with harmonies in the style of Richard Strauss. “This will never do. We must grapple with the -anthem this term--you’re as tuneful as--as day-boys!” +anthem this term. You’re as tuneful as—as day-boys!” Hearty laughter, and then the whole house filed past them and shook hands. @@ -6149,39 +6247,40 @@ boys. “I meant rather, how did the house impress you as a house?” -“I don’t think I thought,” said Rickie rather nervously. “It is not easy -to catch the spirit of a thing at once. I only saw a roomful of boys.” +“I don’t think I thought,” said Rickie rather nervously. “It is not +easy to catch the spirit of a thing at once. I only saw a roomful of +boys.” “My dear Rickie, don’t be so diffident. You are perfectly right. You -only did see a roomful of boys. As yet there’s nothing else to see. The -house, like the school, lacks tradition. Look at Winchester. Look at -the traditional rivalry between Eton and Harrow. Tradition is of +only did see a roomful of boys. As yet there’s nothing else to see. +The house, like the school, lacks tradition. Look at Winchester. Look +at the traditional rivalry between Eton and Harrow. Tradition is of incalculable importance, if a school is to have any status. Why should Sawston be without?” “Yes. Tradition is of incalculable value. And I envy those schools that have a natural connection with the past. Of course Sawston has a past, though not of the kind that you quite want. The sons of poor tradesmen -went to it at first. So wouldn’t its traditions be more likely to linger -in the Commercial School?” he concluded nervously. +went to it at first. So wouldn’t its traditions be more likely to +linger in the Commercial School?” he concluded nervously. -“You have a great deal to learn--a very great deal. Listen to me. Why +“You have a great deal to learn—a very great deal. Listen to me. Why has Sawston no traditions?” His round, rather foolish, face assumed the expression of a conspirator. Bending over the mutton, he whispered, “I can tell you why. Owing to the day-boys. How can traditions flourish in -such soil? Picture the day-boy’s life--at home for meals, at home for +such soil? Picture the day-boy’s life—at home for meals, at home for preparation, at home for sleep, running home with every fancied wrong. -There are day-boys in your class, and, mark my words, they will give you -ten times as much trouble as the boarders, late, slovenly, stopping away -at the slightest pretext. And then the letters from the parents! ‘Why -has my boy not been moved this term?’ ‘Why has my boy been moved this -term?’ ‘I am a dissenter, and do not wish my boy to subscribe to the -school mission.’ ‘Can you let my boy off early to water the garden?’ -Remember that I have been a day-boy house-master, and tried to infuse -some esprit de corps into them. It is practically impossible. They come -as units, and units they remain. Worse. They infect the boarders. Their -pestilential, critical, discontented attitude is spreading over the -school. If I had my own way--” +There are day-boys in your class, and, mark my words, they will give +you ten times as much trouble as the boarders, late, slovenly, stopping +away at the slightest pretext. And then the letters from the parents! +‘Why has my boy not been moved this term?’ ‘Why has my boy been moved +this term?’ ‘I am a dissenter, and do not wish my boy to subscribe +to the school mission.’ ‘Can you let my boy off early to water the +garden?’ Remember that I have been a day-boy house-master, and tried to +infuse some _esprit de corps_ into them. It is practically impossible. +They come as units, and units they remain. Worse. They infect the +boarders. Their pestilential, critical, discontented attitude is +spreading over the school. If I had my own way—” He stopped somewhat abruptly. @@ -6199,27 +6298,27 @@ dormitory. Then he went to the switch in the passage and plunged the whole house into darkness. Rickie lingered behind him, strangely impressed. In the morning those boys had been scattered over England, leading their own -lives. Now, for three months, they must change everything--see new +lives. Now, for three months, they must change everything—see new faces, accept new ideals. They, like himself, must enter a beneficent -machine, and learn the value of esprit de corps. Good luck attend -them--good luck and a happy release. For his heart would have them +machine, and learn the value of _esprit de corps_. Good luck attend +them—good luck and a happy release. For his heart would have them not in these cubicles and dormitories, but each in his own dear home, amongst faces and things that he knew. Next morning, after chapel, he made the acquaintance of his class. -Towards that he felt very differently. Esprit de corps was not expected -of it. It was simply two dozen boys who were gathered together for the -purpose of learning Latin. His duties and difficulties would not lie -here. He was not required to provide it with an atmosphere. The scheme -of work was already mapped out, and he started gaily upon familiar -words-- +Towards that he felt very differently. _Esprit de corps_ was not +expected of it. It was simply two dozen boys who were gathered together +for the purpose of learning Latin. His duties and difficulties would +not lie here. He was not required to provide it with an atmosphere. +The scheme of work was already mapped out, and he started gaily upon +familiar words— “Pan, ovium custos, tua si tibi Maenala curae Adsis, O Tegaee, favens.” -“Do you think that beautiful?” he asked, and received the honest answer, -“No, sir; I don’t think I do.” He met Herbert in high spirits in the -quadrangle during the interval. But Herbert thought his enthusiasm -rather amateurish, and cautioned him. +“Do you think that beautiful?” he asked, and received the honest +answer, “No, sir; I don’t think I do.” He met Herbert in high spirits +in the quadrangle during the interval. But Herbert thought his +enthusiasm rather amateurish, and cautioned him. “You must take care they don’t get out of hand. I approve of a lively teacher, but discipline must be established first.” @@ -6240,7 +6339,7 @@ find a golden mean between them?” spectacled man, who greeted the newcomer kindly, and took hold of his arm. “What’s that about the golden mean?” -“Mr. Jackson--Mr. Elliot: Mr. Elliot--Mr. Jackson,” said Herbert, who +“Mr. Jackson—Mr. Elliot: Mr. Elliot—Mr. Jackson,” said Herbert, who did not seem quite pleased. “Rickie, have you a moment to spare me?” But the humanist spoke to the young man about the golden mean and @@ -6262,11 +6361,11 @@ them, or Valerius Flaccus. Whatever is that noise?” “So it does. Ah, yes. I expect they are putting your little Tewson into the waste-paper basket.” -“I always lock my class-room in the interval--” +“I always lock my class-room in the interval—” “Yes?” -“--and carry the key in my pocket.” +“—and carry the key in my pocket.” “Ah. But, Mr. Elliot, I am a cousin of Widdrington’s. He wrote to me about you. I am so glad. Will you, first of all, come to supper next @@ -6287,17 +6386,17 @@ said, “This is a little unfortunate. Who is Mr. Widdrington?” “Let me explain how we stand,” he continued, after a pause. -“Jackson is the worst of the reactionaries here, while I--why should I -conceal it?--have thrown in my lot with the party of progress. You will -see how we suffer from him at the masters’ meetings. He has no talent -for organization, and yet he is always inflicting his ideas on others. -It was like his impertinence to dictate to you what authors you should -read, and meanwhile the sixth-form room like a bear-garden, and a school -prefect being put into the waste-paper basket. My good Rickie, there’s -nothing to smile at. How is the school to go on with a man like that? -It would be a case of ‘quick march,’ if it was not for his brilliant -intellect. That’s why I say it’s a little unfortunate. You will have -very little in common, you and he.” +“Jackson is the worst of the reactionaries here, while I—why should +I conceal it?—have thrown in my lot with the party of progress. You +will see how we suffer from him at the masters’ meetings. He has no +talent for organization, and yet he is always inflicting his ideas on +others. It was like his impertinence to dictate to you what authors you +should read, and meanwhile the sixth-form room like a bear-garden, and +a school prefect being put into the waste-paper basket. My good Rickie, +there’s nothing to smile at. How is the school to go on with a man +like that? It would be a case of ‘quick march,’ if it was not for his +brilliant intellect. That’s why I say it’s a little unfortunate. You +will have very little in common, you and he.” Rickie did not answer. He was very fond of Widdrington, who was a quaint, sensitive person. And he could not help being attracted by @@ -6317,9 +6416,9 @@ catch-words.” “Varden? Yes; there is.” “Drop on him heavily. He has broken the statutes of the school. He is -attending as a day-boy. The statutes provide that a boy must reside with -his parents or guardians. He does neither. It must be stopped. You must -tell the headmaster.” +attending as a day-boy. The statutes provide that a boy must reside +with his parents or guardians. He does neither. It must be stopped. You +must tell the headmaster.” “Where does the boy live?” @@ -6330,19 +6429,19 @@ kind. It must be stopped. He must either enter a boarding-house or go.” unattractive person with protruding ears, “It is the business of his house-master.” -“House-master--exactly. Here we come back again. Who is now the -day-boys’ house-master? Jackson once again--as if anything was Jackson’s -business! I handed the house back last term in a most flourishing -condition. It has already gone to rack and ruin for the second time. To -return to Varden. I have unearthed a put-up job. Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. -Orr are friends. Do you see? It all works round.” +“House-master—exactly. Here we come back again. Who is now the +day-boys’ house-master? Jackson once again—as if anything was +Jackson’s business! I handed the house back last term in a most +flourishing condition. It has already gone to rack and ruin for the +second time. To return to Varden. I have unearthed a put-up job. Mrs. +Jackson and Mrs. Orr are friends. Do you see? It all works round.” -“I see. It does--or might.” +“I see. It does—or might.” “The headmaster will never sanction it when it’s put to him plainly.” -“But why should I put it?” said Rickie, twisting the ribbons of his gown -round his fingers. +“But why should I put it?” said Rickie, twisting the ribbons of his +gown round his fingers. “Because you’re the boy’s form-master.” @@ -6350,136 +6449,142 @@ round his fingers. “Of course it is.” -“I only wondered whether--” He did not like to say that he wondered +“I only wondered whether—” He did not like to say that he wondered whether he need do it his first morning. -“By some means or other you must find out--of course you know already, -but you must find out from the boy. I know--I have it! Where’s his +“By some means or other you must find out—of course you know already, +but you must find out from the boy. I know—I have it! Where’s his health certificate?” “He had forgotten it.” -“Just like them. Well, when he brings it, it will be signed by Mrs. Orr, -and you must look at it and say, ‘Orr--Orr--Mrs. Orr?’ or something to -that effect, and then the whole thing will come naturally out.” +“Just like them. Well, when he brings it, it will be signed by Mrs. +Orr, and you must look at it and say, ‘Orr—Orr—Mrs. Orr?’ or +something to that effect, and then the whole thing will come naturally +out.” The bell rang, and they went in for the hour of school that concluded -the morning. Varden brought his health certificate--a pompous document -asserting that he had not suffered from roseola or kindred ailments in -the holidays--and for a long time Rickie sat with it before him, +the morning. Varden brought his health certificate—a pompous document +asserting that he had not suffered from roseola or kindred ailments +in the holidays—and for a long time Rickie sat with it before him, spread open upon his desk. He did not quite like the job. It suggested intrigue, and he had come to Sawston not to intrigue but to labour. Doubtless Herbert was right, and Mr. Jackson and Mrs. Orr were wrong. But why could they not have it out among themselves? Then he thought, -“I am a coward, and that’s why I’m raising these objections,” called the -boy up to him, and it did all come out naturally, more or less. Hitherto -Varden had lived with his mother; but she had left Sawston at Christmas, -and now he would live with Mrs. Orr. “Mr. Jackson, sir, said it would be -all right.” +“I am a coward, and that’s why I’m raising these objections,” called +the boy up to him, and it did all come out naturally, more or less. +Hitherto Varden had lived with his mother; but she had left Sawston at +Christmas, and now he would live with Mrs. Orr. “Mr. Jackson, sir, said +it would be all right.” “Yes, yes,” said Rickie; “quite so.” He remembered Herbert’s dictum: -“Masters must present a united front. If they do not--the deluge.” He +“Masters must present a united front. If they do not—the deluge.” He sent the boy back to his seat, and after school took the compromising health certificate to the headmaster. The headmaster was at that time easily excited by a breach of the constitution. “Parents or guardians,” - he reputed--“parents or guardians,” and flew with those words on his -lips to Mr. Jackson. To say that Rickie was a cat’s-paw is to put it too -strongly. Herbert was strictly honourable, and never pushed him into an -illegal or really dangerous position; but there is no doubt that on -this and on many other occasions he had to do things that he would not -otherwise have done. There was always some diplomatic corner that had -to be turned, always something that he had to say or not to say. As the -term wore on he lost his independence--almost without knowing it. He had -much to learn about boys, and he learnt not by direct observation--for -which he believed he was unfitted--but by sedulous imitation of the more -experienced masters. Originally he had intended to be friends with his -pupils, and Mr. Pembroke commended the intention highly; but you cannot -be friends either with boy or man unless you give yourself away in -the process, and Mr. Pembroke did not commend this. He, for “personal -intercourse,” substituted the safer “personal influence,” and gave his -junior hints on the setting of kindly traps, in which the boy does give -himself away and reveals his shy delicate thoughts, while the master, -intact, commends or corrects them. Originally Rickie had meant to help -boys in the anxieties that they undergo when changing into men: at -Cambridge he had numbered this among life’s duties. But here is a -subject in which we must inevitably speak as one human being to another, -not as one who has authority or the shadow of authority, and for this -reason the elder school-master could suggest nothing but a few formulae. -Formulae, like kindly traps, were not in Rickie’s line, so he abandoned -these subjects altogether and confined himself to working hard at what -was easy. In the house he did as Herbert did, and referred all doubtful -subjects to him. In his form, oddly enough, he became a martinet. It -is so much simpler to be severe. He grasped the school regulations, -and insisted on prompt obedience to them. He adopted the doctrine of -collective responsibility. When one boy was late, he punished the whole -form. “I can’t help it,” he would say, as if he was a power of nature. -As a teacher he was rather dull. He curbed his own enthusiasms, finding -that they distracted his attention, and that while he throbbed to the -music of Virgil the boys in the back row were getting unruly. But on the +he repeated—“parents or guardians,” and flew with those words on his +lips to Mr. Jackson. To say that Rickie was a cat’s-paw is to put it +too strongly. Herbert was strictly honourable, and never pushed him +into an illegal or really dangerous position; but there is no doubt +that on this and on many other occasions he had to do things that +he would not otherwise have done. There was always some diplomatic +corner that had to be turned, always something that he had to say +or not to say. As the term wore on he lost his independence—almost +without knowing it. He had much to learn about boys, and he learnt not +by direct observation—for which he believed he was unfitted—but by +sedulous imitation of the more experienced masters. Originally he had +intended to be friends with his pupils, and Mr. Pembroke commended the +intention highly; but you cannot be friends either with boy or man +unless you give yourself away in the process, and Mr. Pembroke did not +commend this. He, for “personal intercourse,” substituted the safer +“personal influence,” and gave his junior hints on the setting of +kindly traps, in which the boy does give himself away and reveals his +shy delicate thoughts, while the master, intact, commends or corrects +them. Originally Rickie had meant to help boys in the anxieties that +they undergo when changing into men: at Cambridge he had numbered +this among life’s duties. But here is a subject in which we must +inevitably speak as one human being to another, not as one who has +authority or the shadow of authority, and for this reason the elder +school-master could suggest nothing but a few formulae. Formulae, like +kindly traps, were not in Rickie’s line, so he abandoned these subjects +altogether and confined himself to working hard at what was easy. In +the house he did as Herbert did, and referred all doubtful subjects to +him. In his form, oddly enough, he became a martinet. It is so much +simpler to be severe. He grasped the school regulations, and insisted +on prompt obedience to them. He adopted the doctrine of collective +responsibility. When one boy was late, he punished the whole form. “I +can’t help it,” he would say, as if he was a power of nature. As a +teacher he was rather dull. He curbed his own enthusiasms, finding that +they distracted his attention, and that while he throbbed to the music +of Virgil the boys in the back row were getting unruly. But on the whole he liked his form work: he knew why he was there, and Herbert did not overshadow him so completely. What was amiss with Herbert? He had known that something was amiss, and had entered into partnership with open eyes. The man was kind and unselfish; more than that he was truly charitable, and it was a real -pleasure to him to give--pleasure to others. Certainly he might talk too -much about it afterwards; but it was the doing, not the talking, that he -really valued, and benefactors of this sort are not too common. He was, -moreover, diligent and conscientious: his heart was in his work, and -his adherence to the Church of England no mere matter of form. He was -capable of affection: he was usually courteous and tolerant. Then what -was amiss? Why, in spite of all these qualities, should Rickie feel that -there was something wrong with him--nay, that he was wrong as a whole, -and that if the Spirit of Humanity should ever hold a judgment he would -assuredly be classed among the goats? The answer at first sight appeared -a graceless one--it was that Herbert was stupid. Not stupid in the -ordinary sense--he had a business-like brain, and acquired knowledge -easily--but stupid in the important sense: his whole life was coloured -by a contempt of the intellect. That he had a tolerable intellect of his -own was not the point: it is in what we value, not in what we have, that -the test of us resides. Now, Rickie’s intellect was not remarkable. He -came to his worthier results rather by imagination and instinct than by -logic. An argument confused him, and he could with difficulty follow it -even on paper. But he saw in this no reason for satisfaction, and tried -to make such use of his brain as he could, just as a weak athlete might -lovingly exercise his body. Like a weak athlete, too, he loved to watch -the exploits, or rather the efforts, of others--their efforts not so -much to acquire knowledge as to dispel a little of the darkness by which -we and all our acquisitions are surrounded. Cambridge had taught him -this, and he knew, if for no other reason, that his time there had not -been in vain. And Herbert’s contempt for such efforts revolted him. He -saw that for all his fine talk about a spiritual life he had but one -test for things--success: success for the body in this life or for the -soul in the life to come. And for this reason Humanity, and perhaps such -other tribunals as there may be, would assuredly reject him. +pleasure to him to give—pleasure to others. Certainly he might talk +too much about it afterwards; but it was the doing, not the talking, +that he really valued, and benefactors of this sort are not too +common. He was, moreover, diligent and conscientious: his heart was in +his work, and his adherence to the Church of England no mere matter +of form. He was capable of affection: he was usually courteous and +tolerant. Then what was amiss? Why, in spite of all these qualities, +should Rickie feel that there was something wrong with him—nay, that +he was wrong as a whole, and that if the Spirit of Humanity should ever +hold a judgment he would assuredly be classed among the goats? The +answer at first sight appeared a graceless one—it was that Herbert was +stupid. Not stupid in the ordinary sense—he had a business-like brain, +and acquired knowledge easily—but stupid in the important sense: his +whole life was coloured by a contempt of the intellect. That he had +a tolerable intellect of his own was not the point: it is in what we +value, not in what we have, that the test of us resides. Now, Rickie’s +intellect was not remarkable. He came to his worthier results rather by +imagination and instinct than by logic. An argument confused him, and +he could with difficulty follow it even on paper. But he saw in this +no reason for satisfaction, and tried to make such use of his brain +as he could, just as a weak athlete might lovingly exercise his body. +Like a weak athlete, too, he loved to watch the exploits, or rather the +efforts, of others—their efforts not so much to acquire knowledge as +to dispel a little of the darkness by which we and all our acquisitions +are surrounded. Cambridge had taught him this, and he knew, if for no +other reason, that his time there had not been in vain. And Herbert’s +contempt for such efforts revolted him. He saw that for all his fine +talk about a spiritual life he had but one test for things—success: +success for the body in this life or for the soul in the life to come. +And for this reason Humanity, and perhaps such other tribunals as there +may be, would assuredly reject him. + XVIII + Meanwhile he was a husband. Perhaps his union should have been emphasized before. The crown of life had been attained, the vague -yearnings, the misread impulses, had found accomplishment at last. Never -again must he feel lonely, or as one who stands out of the broad highway -of the world and fears, like poor Shelley, to undertake the longest -journey. So he reasoned, and at first took the accomplishment for -granted. But as the term passed he knew that behind the yearning there -remained a yearning, behind the drawn veil a veil that he could not -draw. His wedding had been no mighty landmark: he would often wonder -whether such and such a speech or incident came after it or before. -Since that meeting in the Soho restaurant there had been so much to -do--clothes to buy, presents to thank for, a brief visit to a Training -College, a honeymoon as brief. In such a bustle, what spiritual union -could take place? Surely the dust would settle soon: in Italy, at -Easter, he might perceive the infinities of love. But love had shown him -its infinities already. Neither by marriage nor by any other device can -men insure themselves a vision; and Rickie’s had been granted him three -years before, when he had seen his wife and a dead man clasped in each -other’s arms. She was never to be so real to him again. +yearnings, the misread impulses, had found accomplishment at last. +Never again must he feel lonely, or as one who stands out of the broad +highway of the world and fears, like poor Shelley, to undertake the +longest journey. So he reasoned, and at first took the accomplishment +for granted. But as the term passed he knew that behind the yearning +there remained a yearning, behind the drawn veil a veil that he could +not draw. His wedding had been no mighty landmark: he would often +wonder whether such and such a speech or incident came after it or +before. Since that meeting in the Soho restaurant there had been so +much to do—clothes to buy, presents to thank for, a brief visit to +a Training College, a honeymoon as brief. In such a bustle, what +spiritual union could take place? Surely the dust would settle soon: in +Italy, at Easter, he might perceive the infinities of love. But love +had shown him its infinities already. Neither by marriage nor by any +other device can men insure themselves a vision; and Rickie’s had been +granted him three years before, when he had seen his wife and a dead +man clasped in each other’s arms. She was never to be so real to him +again. She ran about the house looking handsomer than ever. Her cheerful voice gave orders to the servants. As he sat in the study correcting -compositions, she would dart in and give him a kiss. “Dear girl--” he +compositions, she would dart in and give him a kiss. “Dear girl—” he would murmur, with a glance at the rings on her hand. The tone of their marriage life was soon set. It was to be a frank good-fellowship, and before long he found it difficult to speak in a deeper key. @@ -6498,20 +6603,21 @@ still dear to her. He did not want her to forget the greatest moment in her life. His love desired not ownership but confidence, and to a love so pure it does not seem terrible to come second. -He valued emotion--not for itself, but because it is the only final path -to intimacy. She, ever robust and practical, always discouraged him. -She was not cold; she would willingly embrace him. But she hated being -upset, and would laugh or thrust him off when his voice grew serious. -In this she reminded him of his mother. But his mother--he had never -concealed it from himself--had glories to which his wife would never -attain: glories that had unfolded against a life of horror--a life even -more horrible than he had guessed. He thought of her often during these -earlier months. Did she bless his union, so different to her own? Did -she love his wife? He tried to speak of her to Agnes, but again she was -reluctant. And perhaps it was this aversion to acknowledge the dead, -whose images alone have immortality, that made her own image somewhat -transient, so that when he left her no mystic influence remained, and -only by an effort could he realize that God had united them forever. +He valued emotion—not for itself, but because it is the only final +path to intimacy. She, ever robust and practical, always discouraged +him. She was not cold; she would willingly embrace him. But she hated +being upset, and would laugh or thrust him off when his voice grew +serious. In this she reminded him of his mother. But his mother—he had +never concealed it from himself—had glories to which his wife would +never attain: glories that had unfolded against a life of horror—a +life even more horrible than he had guessed. He thought of her often +during these earlier months. Did she bless his union, so different to +her own? Did she love his wife? He tried to speak of her to Agnes, +but again she was reluctant. And perhaps it was this aversion to +acknowledge the dead, whose images alone have immortality, that made +her own image somewhat transient, so that when he left her no mystic +influence remained, and only by an effort could he realize that God had +united them forever. They conversed and differed healthily upon other topics. A rifle corps was to be formed: she hoped that the boys would have proper uniforms, @@ -6525,32 +6631,32 @@ was now a member of Dunwood House. “He had to go somewhere,” said Agnes. “Lucky for his mother that we had a vacancy.” -“Yes--but when I meet Mrs. Orr--I can’t help feeling ashamed.” +“Yes—but when I meet Mrs. Orr—I can’t help feeling ashamed.” “Oh, Mrs. Orr! Who cares for her? Her teeth are drawn. If she chooses to insinuate that we planned it, let her. Hers was rank dishonesty. She attempted to set up a boarding-house.” -Mrs. Orr, who was quite rich, had attempted no such thing. She had taken -the boy out of charity, and without a thought of being unconstitutional. -But in had come this officious “Limpet” and upset the headmaster, -and she was scolded, and Mrs. Varden was scolded, and Mr. Jackson was -scolded, and the boy was scolded and placed with Mr. Pembroke, whom she -revered less than any man in the world. Naturally enough, she considered -it a further attempt of the authorities to snub the day-boys, for whose -advantage the school had been founded. She and Mrs. Jackson discussed -the subject at their tea-parties, and the latter lady was sure that -no good, no good of any kind, would come to Dunwood House from such -ill-gotten plunder. +Mrs. Orr, who was quite rich, had attempted no such thing. She +had taken the boy out of charity, and without a thought of being +unconstitutional. But in had come this officious “Limpet” and upset +the headmaster, and she was scolded, and Mrs. Varden was scolded, and +Mr. Jackson was scolded, and the boy was scolded and placed with Mr. +Pembroke, whom she revered less than any man in the world. Naturally +enough, she considered it a further attempt of the authorities to snub +the day-boys, for whose advantage the school had been founded. She and +Mrs. Jackson discussed the subject at their tea-parties, and the latter +lady was sure that no good, no good of any kind, would come to Dunwood +House from such ill-gotten plunder. “We say, ‘Let them talk,’” persisted Rickie, “but I never did like letting people talk. We are right and they are wrong, but I wish the thing could have been done more quietly. The headmaster does get so excited. He has given a gang of foolish people their opportunity. I -don’t like being branded as the day-boy’s foe, when I think how much I -would have given to be a day-boy myself. My father found me a nuisance, -and put me through the mill, and I can never forget it particularly the -evenings.” +don’t like being branded as the ‘day-boy’s foe’, when I think how +much I would have given to be a day-boy myself. My father found me +a nuisance, and put me through the mill, and I can never forget +it—particularly the evenings.” “There’s very little bullying here,” said Agnes. @@ -6560,7 +6666,7 @@ people do to you, but what they mean, that hurts.” “I don’t understand.” -“Physical pain doesn’t hurt--at least not what I call hurt--if a man +“Physical pain doesn’t hurt—at least not what I call hurt—if a man hits you by accident or play. But just a little tap, when you know it comes from hatred, is too terrible. Boys do hate each other: I remember it, and see it again. They can make strong isolated friendships, but of @@ -6572,46 +6678,46 @@ general good-fellowship they haven’t a notion.” its beginning here among the prefects: up at Cambridge it flourishes amazingly. That’s why I pity people who don’t go up to Cambridge: not because a University is smart, but because those are the magic years, -and--with luck--you see up there what you couldn’t see before and mayn’t -ever see again. +and—with luck—you see up there what you couldn’t see before and +mayn’t ever see again. “Aren’t these the magic years?” the lady demanded. He laughed and hit at her. “I’m getting somewhat involved. But hear me, O Agnes, for I am practical. I approve of our public schools. Long may -they, flourish. But I do not approve of the boarding-house system. It -isn’t an inevitable adjunct--” +they flourish. But I do not approve of the boarding-house system. It +isn’t an inevitable adjunct—” “Good gracious me!” she shrieked. “Have you gone mad?” “Silence, madam. Don’t betray me to Herbert, or I’ll give us the sack. -But seriously, what is the good of, throwing boys so much together? +But seriously, what is the good of throwing boys so much together? Isn’t it building their lives on a wrong basis? They don’t understand each other. I wish they did, but they don’t. They don’t realize that human beings are simply marvellous. When they do, the whole of life changes, and you get the true thing. But don’t pretend you’ve got it -before you have. Patriotism and esprit de corps are all very well, but -masters a little forget that they must grow from sentiment. They cannot -create one. Cannot-cannot--cannot. I never cared a straw for England -until I cared for Englishmen, and boys can’t love the school when they -hate each other. Ladies and gentlemen, I will now conclude my address. -And most of it is copied out of Mr. Ansell.” +before you have. Patriotism and _esprit de corps_ are all very well, +but masters a little forget that they must grow from sentiment. They +cannot create one. Cannot—cannot—cannot. I never cared a straw for +England until I cared for Englishmen, and boys can’t love the school +when they hate each other. Ladies and gentlemen, I will now conclude my +address. And most of it is copied out of Mr. Ansell.” The truth is, he was suddenly ashamed. He had been carried away on the flood of his old emotions. Cambridge and all that it meant had stood before him passionately clear, and beside it stood his mother and the sweet family life which nurses up a boy until he can salute his equals. -He was ashamed, for he remembered his new resolution--to work without +He was ashamed, for he remembered his new resolution—to work without criticizing, to throw himself vigorously into the machine, not to mind if he was pinched now and then by the elaborate wheels. “Mr. Ansell!” cried his wife, laughing somewhat shrilly. “Aha! Now I -understand. It’s just the kind of thing poor Mr. Ansell would say. Well, -I’m brutal. I believe it does Varden good to have his ears pulled now -and then, and I don’t care whether they pull them in play or not. Boys -ought to rough it, or they never grow up into men, and your mother would -have agreed with me. Oh yes; and you’re all wrong about patriotism. It -can, can, create a sentiment.” +understand. It’s just the kind of thing poor Mr. Ansell would say. +Well, I’m brutal. I believe it _does_ Varden _good_ to have his ears +pulled now and then, and I don’t care whether they pull them in play or +not. Boys ought to rough it, or they never grow up into men, and your +mother would have agreed with me. Oh yes; and you’re all wrong about +patriotism. It can, can, create a sentiment.” She was unusually precise, and had followed his thoughts with an attention that was also unusual. He wondered whether she was not right, @@ -6625,7 +6731,7 @@ years and have nothing but day-boys all dressed anyhow.” “You’d better join it.” “The Dunwood House set has its points.” For Rickie suffered from the -Primal Curse, which is not--as the Authorized Version suggests--the +Primal Curse, which is not—as the Authorized Version suggests—the knowledge of good and evil, but the knowledge of good-and-evil. “Then stick to the Dunwood House set.” @@ -6635,18 +6741,18 @@ side of things? He rebuked his soul, not unsuccessfully, and then they returned to the subject of Varden. “I’m certain he suffers,” said he, for she would do nothing but laugh. -“Each boy who passes pulls his ears--very funny, no doubt; but every day -they stick out more and get redder, and this afternoon, when he didn’t -know he was being watched, he was holding his head and moaning. I hate -the look about his eyes.” +“Each boy who passes pulls his ears—very funny, no doubt; but every +day they stick out more and get redder, and this afternoon, when he +didn’t know he was being watched, he was holding his head and moaning. +I hate the look about his eyes.” “I hate the whole boy. Nasty weedy thing.” “Well, I’m a nasty weedy thing, if it comes to that.” -“No, you aren’t,” she cried, kissing him. But he led her back to -the subject. Could nothing be suggested? He drew up some new -rules--alterations in the times of going to bed, and so on--the effect +“No, you aren’t,” she cried, kissing him. But he led her back +to the subject. Could nothing be suggested? He drew up some new +rules—alterations in the times of going to bed, and so on—the effect of which would be to provide fewer opportunities for the pulling of Varden’s ears. The rules were submitted to Herbert, who sympathized with weakliness more than did his sister, and gave them his careful @@ -6654,14 +6760,16 @@ consideration. But unfortunately they collided with other rules, and on a closer examination he found that they also ran contrary to the fundamentals on which the government of Dunwood House was based. So nothing was done. Agnes was rather pleased, and took to teasing her -husband about Varden. At last he asked her to stop. He felt uneasy about -the boy--almost superstitious. His first morning’s work had brought -sixty pounds a year to their hotel. +husband about Varden. At last he asked her to stop. He felt uneasy +about the boy—almost superstitious. His first morning’s work had +brought sixty pounds a year to their hotel. + XIX + They did not get to Italy at Easter. Herbert had the offer of some private pupils, and needed Rickie’s help. It seemed unreasonable to leave England when money was to be made in it, so they went to @@ -6670,24 +6778,24 @@ and unnatural disadvantages of that resort. It was out of the season, and they encamped in a huge hotel, which took them at a reduction. By a disastrous chance the Jacksons were down there too, and a good deal of constrained civility had to pass between the two families. Constrained -it was not in Mr. Jackson’s case. At all times he was ready to talk, and -as long as they kept off the school it was pleasant enough. But he was -very indiscreet, and feminine tact had often to intervene. “Go away, -dear ladies,” he would then observe. “You think you see life because you -see the chasms in it. Yet all the chasms are full of female skeletons.” - The ladies smiled anxiously. To Rickie he was friendly and even -intimate. They had long talks on the deserted Capstone, while their -wives sat reading in the Winter Garden and Mr. Pembroke kept an eye upon -the tutored youths. “Once I had tutored youths,” said Mr. Jackson, -“but I lost them all by letting them paddle with my nieces. It is so -impossible to remember what is proper.” And sooner or later their talk -gravitated towards his central passion--the Fragments of Sophocles. Some -day (“never,” said Herbert) he would edit them. At present they were -merely in his blood. With the zeal of a scholar and the imagination of -a poet he reconstructed lost dramas--Niobe, Phaedra, Philoctetes against -Troy, whose names, but for an accident, would have thrilled the world. -“Is it worth it?” he cried. “Had we better be planting potatoes?” And -then: “We had; but this is the second best.” +it was not in Mr. Jackson’s case. At all times he was ready to talk, +and as long as they kept off the school it was pleasant enough. But +he was very indiscreet, and feminine tact had often to intervene. “Go +away, dear ladies,” he would then observe. “You think you see life +because you see the chasms in it. Yet all the chasms are full of female +skeletons.” The ladies smiled anxiously. To Rickie he was friendly and +even intimate. They had long talks on the deserted Capstone, while +their wives sat reading in the Winter Garden and Mr. Pembroke kept an +eye upon the tutored youths. “Once I had tutored youths,” said Mr. +Jackson, “but I lost them all by letting them paddle with my nieces. +It is so impossible to remember what is proper.” And sooner or later +their talk gravitated towards his central passion—the Fragments of +Sophocles. Some day (“never,” said Herbert) he would edit them. At +present they were merely in his blood. With the zeal of a scholar and +the imagination of a poet he reconstructed lost dramas—Niobe, Phaedra, +Philoctetes against Troy, whose names, but for an accident, would have +thrilled the world. “Is it worth it?” he cried. “Had we better be +planting potatoes?” And then: “We had; but this is the second best.” Agnes did not approve of these colloquies. Mr. Jackson was not a buffoon, but he behaved like one, which is what matters; and from the @@ -6701,11 +6809,11 @@ have known. He was a friend of Tony Failing’s. It is so hard to realize that a man connected with one was great. Uncle Tony seems to have been. He loved poetry and music and pictures, and everything tempted him to live in a kind of cultured paradise, with the door shut upon squalor. -But to have more decent people in the world--he sacrificed everything +But to have more decent people in the world—he sacrificed everything to that. He would have ‘smashed the whole beauty-shop’ if it would help him. I really couldn’t go as far as that. I don’t think one need go as -far--pictures might have to be smashed, but not music or poetry; surely -they help--and Jackson doesn’t think so either.” +far—pictures might have to be smashed, but not music or poetry; surely +they help—and Jackson doesn’t think so either.” “Well, I won’t have it, and that’s enough.” She laughed, for her voice had a little been that of the professional scold. “You see we must hang @@ -6715,22 +6823,22 @@ together. He’s in the reactionary camp.” “His wife is, which comes to the same.” -“Still, it’s the holidays--” He and Mr. Jackson had drifted apart in +“Still, it’s the holidays—” He and Mr. Jackson had drifted apart in the term, chiefly owing to the affair of Varden. “We were to have the holidays to ourselves, you know.” And following some line of thought, he continued, “He cheers one up. He does believe in poetry. Smart, -sentimental books do seem absolutely absurd to him, and gods and fairies -far nearer to reality. He tries to express all modern life in the terms -of Greek mythology, because the Greeks looked very straight at things, -and Demeter or Aphrodite are thinner veils than ‘The survival of the -fittest’, or ‘A marriage has been arranged,’ and other draperies of -modern journalese.” +sentimental books do seem absolutely absurd to him, and gods and +fairies far nearer to reality. He tries to express all modern life in +the terms of Greek mythology, because the Greeks looked very straight +at things, and Demeter or Aphrodite are thinner veils than ‘The +survival of the fittest’, or ‘A marriage has been arranged,’ and other +draperies of modern journalese.” “And do you know what that means?” “It means that poetry, not prose, lies at the core.” -“No. I can tell you what it means--balder-dash.” +“No. I can tell you what it means—balder-dash.” His mouth fell. She was sweeping away the cobwebs with a vengeance. “I hope you’re wrong,” he replied, “for those are the lines on which I’ve @@ -6744,87 +6852,90 @@ He looked at his watch. “Lessons again. One never has a moment’s peace.” called after him to say, “Remember, dear, about Mr. Jackson. Don’t go talking so much to him.” -Rather arbitrary. Her tone had been a little arbitrary of late. But what -did it matter? Mr. Jackson was not a friend, and he must risk the chance -of offending Widdrington. After the lesson he wrote to Ansell, whom he -had not seen since June, asking him to come down to Ilfracombe, if only -for a day. On reading the letter over, its tone displeased him. It was -quite pathetic: it sounded like a cry from prison. “I can’t send him -such nonsense,” he thought, and wrote again. But phrase it as he would -the letter always suggested that he was unhappy. “What’s wrong?” he -wondered. “I could write anything I wanted to him once.” So he scrawled -“Come!” on a post-card. But even this seemed too serious. The post-card -followed the letters, and Agnes found them all in the waste-paper -basket. - -Then she said, “I’ve been thinking--oughtn’t you to ask Mr. Ansell over? -A breath of sea air would do the poor thing good.” - -There was no difficulty now. He wrote at once, “My dear Stewart, We both -so much wish you could come over.” But the invitation was refused. A -little uneasy he wrote again, using the dialect of their past intimacy. -The effect of this letter was not pathetic but jaunty, and he felt -a keen regret as soon as it slipped into the box. It was a relief to -receive no reply. - -He brooded a good deal over this painful yet intangible episode. Was -the pain all of his own creating? or had it been produced by something -external? And he got the answer that brooding always gives--it was both. -He was morbid, and had been so since his visit to Cadover--quicker to -register discomfort than joy. But, none the less, Ansell was definitely -brutal, and Agnes definitely jealous. Brutality he could understand, -alien as it was to himself. Jealousy, equally alien, was a harder -matter. Let husband and wife be as sun and moon, or as moon and sun. -Shall they therefore not give greeting to the stars? He was willing to -grant that the love that inspired her might be higher than his own. Yet -did it not exclude them both from much that is gracious? That dream of -his when he rode on the Wiltshire expanses--a curious dream: the lark -silent, the earth dissolving. And he awoke from it into a valley full of -men. - -She was jealous in many ways--sometimes in an open humorous fashion, +Rather arbitrary. Her tone had been a little arbitrary of late. But +what did it matter? Mr. Jackson was not a friend, and he must risk the +chance of offending Widdrington. After the lesson he wrote to Ansell, +whom he had not seen since June, asking him to come down to Ilfracombe, +if only for a day. On reading the letter over, its tone displeased him. +It was quite pathetic: it sounded like a cry from prison. “I can’t +send him such nonsense,” he thought, and wrote again. But phrase it +as he would the letter always suggested that he was unhappy. “What’s +wrong?” he wondered. “I could write anything I wanted to him once.” So +he scrawled “Come!” on a post-card. But even this seemed too serious. +The post-card followed the letters, and Agnes found them all in the +waste-paper basket. + +Then she said, “I’ve been thinking—oughtn’t you to ask Mr. Ansell +over? A breath of sea air would do the poor thing good.” + +There was no difficulty now. He wrote at once, “My dear Stewart, We +both so much wish you could come over.” But the invitation was refused. +A little uneasy he wrote again, using the dialect of their past +intimacy. The effect of this letter was not pathetic but jaunty, and he +felt a keen regret as soon as it slipped into the box. It was a relief +to receive no reply. + +He brooded a good deal over this painful yet intangible episode. +Was the pain all of his own creating? or had it been produced by +something external? And he got the answer that brooding always +gives—it was both. He was morbid, and had been so since his visit to +Cadover—quicker to register discomfort than joy. But, none the less, +Ansell was definitely brutal, and Agnes definitely jealous. Brutality +he could understand, alien as it was to himself. Jealousy, equally +alien, was a harder matter. Let husband and wife be as sun and moon, +or as moon and sun. Shall they therefore not give greeting to the +stars? He was willing to grant that the love that inspired her might be +higher than his own. Yet did it not exclude them both from much that is +gracious? That dream of his when he rode on the Wiltshire expanses—a +curious dream: the lark silent, the earth dissolving. And he awoke from +it into a valley full of men. + +She was jealous in many ways—sometimes in an open humorous fashion, sometimes more subtly, never content till “we” had extended our patronage, and, if possible, our pity. She began to patronize and pity Ansell, and most sincerely trusted that he would get his fellowship. -Otherwise what was the poor fellow to do? Ridiculous as it may seem, she -was even jealous of Nature. One day her husband escaped from Ilfracombe -to Morthoe, and came back ecstatic over its fangs of slate, piercing an -oily sea. “Sounds like an hippopotamus,” she said peevishly. And when -they returned to Sawston through the Virgilian counties, she disliked -him looking out of the windows, for all the world as if Nature was some -dangerous woman. +Otherwise what was the poor fellow to do? Ridiculous as it may seem, +she was even jealous of Nature. One day her husband escaped from +Ilfracombe to Morthoe, and came back ecstatic over its fangs of +slate, piercing an oily sea. “Sounds like an hippopotamus,” she said +peevishly. And when they returned to Sawston through the Virgilian +counties, she disliked him looking out of the windows, for all the +world as if Nature was some dangerous woman. He resumed his duties with a feeling that he had never left them. Again -he confronted the assembled house. This term was again the term; school -still the world in miniature. The music of the four-part fugue entered -into him more deeply, and he began to hum its little phrases. The same -routine, the same diplomacies, the same old sense of only half knowing -boys or men--he returned to it all: and all that changed was the cloud -of unreality, which ever brooded a little more densely than before. He -spoke to his wife about this, he spoke to her about everything, and she -was alarmed, and wanted him to see a doctor. But he explained that it -was nothing of any practical importance, nothing that interfered with -his work or his appetite, nothing more than a feeling that the cow was -not really there. She laughed, and “how is the cow today?” soon passed -into a domestic joke. +he confronted the assembled house. This term was again _the_ term; +school still the world in miniature. The music of the four-part fugue +entered into him more deeply, and he began to hum its little phrases. +The same routine, the same diplomacies, the same old sense of only +half knowing boys or men—he returned to it all: and all that changed +was the cloud of unreality, which ever brooded a little more densely +than before. He spoke to his wife about this, he spoke to her about +everything, and she was alarmed, and wanted him to see a doctor. But he +explained that it was nothing of any practical importance, nothing that +interfered with his work or his appetite, nothing more than a feeling +that the cow was not really there. She laughed, and “how is the cow +today?” soon passed into a domestic joke. + XX -Ansell was in his favourite haunt--the reading-room of the British + +Ansell was in his favourite haunt—the reading-room of the British Museum. In that book-encircled space he always could find peace. He -loved to see the volumes rising tier above tier into the misty dome. He -loved the chairs that glide so noiselessly, and the radiating desks, -and the central area, where the catalogue shelves curve, round the -superintendent’s throne. There he knew that his life was not ignoble. It -was worth while to grow old and dusty seeking for truth though truth is -unattainable, restating questions that have been stated at the beginning -of the world. Failure would await him, but not disillusionment. It was -worth while reading books, and writing a book or two which few would -read, and no one, perhaps, endorse. He was not a hero, and he knew it. -His father and sister, by their steady goodness, had made this life -possible. But, all the same, it was not the life of a spoilt child. +loved to see the volumes rising tier above tier into the misty dome. +He loved the chairs that glide so noiselessly, and the radiating +desks, and the central area, where the catalogue shelves curve, round +the superintendent’s throne. There he knew that his life was not +ignoble. It was worth while to grow old and dusty seeking for truth +though truth is unattainable, restating questions that have been +stated at the beginning of the world. Failure would await him, but not +disillusionment. It was worth while reading books, and writing a book +or two which few would read, and no one, perhaps, endorse. He was not a +hero, and he knew it. His father and sister, by their steady goodness, +had made this life possible. But, all the same, it was not the life of +a spoilt child. In the next chair to him sat Widdrington, engaged in his historical research. His desk was edged with enormous volumes, and every few @@ -6844,31 +6955,31 @@ create a new boarding-house.” “They are very welcome.” -“But the more boarding-houses they create, the less room they leave for -day-boys. The local mothers are frantic, and so is my queer cousin. -I never knew him so excited over sub-Hellenic things. There was an -indignation meeting at his house. He is supposed to look after the -day-boys’ interests, but no one thought he would--least of all the -people who gave him the post. The speeches were most eloquent. +“But the more boarding-houses they create, the less room they leave +for day-boys. The local mothers are frantic, and so is my queer +cousin. I never knew him so excited over sub-Hellenic things. There +was an indignation meeting at his house. He is supposed to look after +the day-boys’ interests, but no one thought he would—least of all +the people who gave him the post. The speeches were most eloquent. They argued that the school was founded for day-boys, and that it’s -intolerable to handicap them. One poor lady cried, ‘Here’s my Harold in -the school, and my Toddie coming on. As likely as not I shall be told -there is no vacancy for him. Then what am I to do? If I go, what’s to -become of Harold; and if I stop, what’s to become of Toddie?’ I must -say I was touched. Family life is more real than national life--at least -I’ve ordered all these books to prove it is--and I fancy that the bust -of Euripides agreed with me, and was sorry for the hot-faced mothers. -Jackson will do what he can. He didn’t quite like to state the -naked truth-which is, that boardinghouses pay. He explained it to me -afterwards: they are the only, future open to a stupid master. It’s easy -enough to be a beak when you’re young and athletic, and can offer the -latest University smattering. The difficulty is to keep your place when -you get old and stiff, and younger smatterers are pushing up behind -you. Crawl into a boarding-house and you’re safe. A master’s life is -frightfully tragic. Jackson’s fairly right himself, because he has got -a first-class intellect. But I met a poor brute who was hired as an -athlete. He has missed his shot at a boarding-house, and there’s nothing -in the world for him to do but to trundle down the hill.” +intolerable to handicap them. One poor lady cried, ‘Here’s my Harold +in the school, and my Toddie coming on. As likely as not I shall be +told there is no vacancy for him. Then what am I to do? If I go, what’s +to become of Harold; and if I stop, what’s to become of Toddie?’ I +must say I was touched. Family life is more real than national life—at +least I’ve ordered all these books to prove it is—and I fancy that +the bust of Euripides agreed with me, and was sorry for the hot-faced +mothers. Jackson will do what he can. He didn’t quite like to state +the naked truth-which is, that boarding-houses pay. He explained it +to me afterwards: they are the only future open to a stupid master. +It’s easy enough to be a beak when you’re young and athletic, and can +offer the latest University smattering. The difficulty is to keep your +place when you get old and stiff, and younger smatterers are pushing +up behind you. Crawl into a boarding-house and you’re safe. A master’s +life is frightfully tragic. Jackson’s fairly right himself, because he +has got a first-class intellect. But I met a poor brute who was hired +as an athlete. He has missed his shot at a boarding-house, and there’s +nothing in the world for him to do but to trundle down the hill.” Ansell yawned. @@ -6891,13 +7002,13 @@ light. Click! she’s on. Click! she’s off. No waste. No flicker.” “I wish she’d fuse.” -“She’ll never fuse--unless anything was to happen at the main.” +“She’ll never fuse—unless anything was to happen at the main.” “What do you mean by the main?” said Ansell, who always pursued a metaphor relentlessly. -Widdrington did not know what he meant, and suggested that Ansell should -visit Sawston to see whether one could know. +Widdrington did not know what he meant, and suggested that Ansell +should visit Sawston to see whether one could know. “It is no good me going. I should not find Mrs. Elliot: she has no real existence.” @@ -6907,8 +7018,8 @@ existence.” “I very much doubt it. I had two letters from Ilfracombe last April, and I very much doubt that the man who wrote them can exist.” Bending downwards he began to adorn the manuscript of his dissertation with a -square, and inside that a circle, and inside that another square. It was -his second dissertation: the first had failed. +square, and inside that a circle, and inside that another square. It +was his second dissertation: the first had failed. “I think he exists: he is so unhappy.” @@ -6918,11 +7029,11 @@ Ansell nodded. “How did you know he was unhappy?” young men we are!” “Aren’t we? I expect we shall get asked in marriage soon. I say, -Widdrington, shall we--?” +Widdrington, shall we—?” “Accept? Of course. It is not young manly to say no.” -“I meant shall we ever do a more tremendous thing,--fuse Mrs. Elliot.” +“I meant shall we ever do a more tremendous thing,—fuse Mrs. Elliot.” “No,” said Widdrington promptly. “We shall never do that in all our lives.” He added, “I think you might go down to Sawston, though.” @@ -6933,28 +7044,28 @@ lives.” He added, “I think you might go down to Sawston, though.” “What’s the good of it?” said Ansell through his teeth. “I will not put up with little things. I would rather be rude than to listen to twaddle -from a man I’ve known. +from a man I’ve known.” “You might go down to Sawston, just for a night, to see him.” -“I saw him last month--at least, so Tilliard informs me. He says that we -all three lunched together, that Rickie paid, and that the conversation -was most interesting.” +“I saw him last month—at least, so Tilliard informs me. He says +that we all three lunched together, that Rickie paid, and that the +conversation was most interesting.” -“Well, I contend that he does exist, and that if you go--oh, I can’t be +“Well, I contend that he does exist, and that if you go—oh, I can’t be clever any longer. You really must go, man. I’m certain he’s miserable and lonely. Dunwood House reeks of commerce and snobbery and all the things he hated most. He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t make any friends. He is so odd, too. In this day-boy row that has just started -he’s gone for my cousin. Would you believe it? Quite spitefully. It made -quite a difficulty when I wanted to dine. It isn’t like him either the -sentiments or the behaviour. I’m sure he’s not himself. Pembroke used to -look after the day-boys, and so he can’t very well take the lead against -them, and perhaps Rickie’s doing his dirty work--and has overdone it, as -decent people generally do. He’s even altering to talk to. Yet he’s not -been married a year. Pembroke and that wife simply run him. I don’t see -why they should, and no more do you; and that’s why I want you to go to -Sawston, if only for one night.” +he’s gone for my cousin. Would you believe it? Quite spitefully. It +made quite a difficulty when I wanted to dine. It isn’t like him—either +the sentiments or the behaviour. I’m sure he’s not himself. Pembroke +used to look after the day-boys, and so he can’t very well take the +lead against them, and perhaps Rickie’s doing his dirty work—and has +overdone it, as decent people generally do. He’s even altering to talk +to. Yet he’s not been married a year. Pembroke and that wife simply run +him. I don’t see why they should, and no more do you; and that’s why I +want you to go to Sawston, if only for one night.” Ansell shook his head, and looked up at the dome as other men look at the sky. In it the great arc lamps sputtered and flared, for the month @@ -6966,13 +7077,13 @@ or unhappy. We go when we can talk to them. I cannot talk to Rickie, therefore I will not waste my time at Sawston.” “I think you’re right,” said Widdrington softly. “But we are bloodless -brutes. I wonder whether-If we were different people--something might be -done to save him. That is the curse of being a little intellectual. You -and our sort have always seen too clearly. We stand aside--and meanwhile -he turns into stone. Two philosophic youths repining in the British -Museum! What have we done? What shall we ever do? Just drift and -criticize, while people who know what they want snatch it away from us -and laugh.” +brutes. I wonder whether—if we were different people—something might +be done to save him. That is the curse of being a little intellectual. +You and our sort have always seen too clearly. We stand aside—and +meanwhile he turns into stone. Two philosophic youths repining in the +British Museum! What have we done? What shall we ever do? Just drift +and criticize, while people who know what they want snatch it away from +us and laugh.” “Perhaps you are that sort. I’m not. When the moment comes I shall hit out like any ploughboy. Don’t believe those lies about intellectual @@ -7010,18 +7121,19 @@ I trust myself to know it anywhere, and to use it rightly.” But at this point the superintendent sent a message. -Widdrington then suggested a stroll in the galleries. It was foggy: they -needed fresh air. He loved and admired his friend, but today he could -not grasp him. The world as Ansell saw it seemed such a fantastic place, -governed by brand-new laws. What more could one do than to see Rickie -as often as possible, to invite his confidence, to offer him spiritual -support? And Mrs. Elliot--what power could “fuse” a respectable woman? +Widdrington then suggested a stroll in the galleries. It was foggy: +they needed fresh air. He loved and admired his friend, but today he +could not grasp him. The world as Ansell saw it seemed such a fantastic +place, governed by brand-new laws. What more could one do than to +see Rickie as often as possible, to invite his confidence, to offer +him spiritual support? And Mrs. Elliot—what power could “fuse” a +respectable woman? -Ansell consented to the stroll, but, as usual, only breathed depression. -The comfort of books deserted him among those marble goddesses and gods. -The eye of an artist finds pleasure in texture and poise, but he could -only think of the vanished incense and deserted temples beside an -unfurrowed sea. +Ansell consented to the stroll, but, as usual, only breathed +depression. The comfort of books deserted him among those marble +goddesses and gods. The eye of an artist finds pleasure in texture and +poise, but he could only think of the vanished incense and deserted +temples beside an unfurrowed sea. “Let us go,” he said. “I do not like carved stones.” @@ -7040,31 +7152,34 @@ was expecting a child. “Oh, I forgot,” interposed Widdrington. “My cousin did tell me.” -“You forgot! Well, after all, I forgot that it might be, We are indeed +“You forgot! Well, after all, I forgot that it might be. We are indeed young men.” He leant against the pedestal of Ilissus and remembered their talk about the Spirit of Life. In his ignorance of what a child means he wondered whether the opportunity he sought lay here. “I am very glad,” said Tilliard, not without intention. “A child will -draw them even closer together. I like to see young people wrapped up in -their child.” +draw them even closer together. I like to see young people wrapped up +in their child.” “I suppose I must be getting back to my dissertation,” said Ansell. He left the Parthenon to pass by the monuments of our more reticent -beliefs--the temple of the Ephesian Artemis, the statue of the Cnidian +beliefs—the temple of the Ephesian Artemis, the statue of the Cnidian Demeter. Honest, he knew that here were powers he could not cope with, nor, as yet, understand. + + XXI + The mists that had gathered round Rickie seemed to be breaking. He had -found light neither in work for which he was unfitted nor in a woman who -had ceased to respect him, and whom he was ceasing to love. Though he -called himself fickle and took all the blame of their marriage on his -own shoulders, there remained in Agnes certain terrible faults of heart -and head, and no self-reproach would diminish them. The glamour of -wedlock had faded; indeed, he saw now that it had faded even before +found light neither in work for which he was unfitted nor in a woman +who had ceased to respect him, and whom he was ceasing to love. Though +he called himself fickle and took all the blame of their marriage on +his own shoulders, there remained in Agnes certain terrible faults of +heart and head, and no self-reproach would diminish them. The glamour +of wedlock had faded; indeed, he saw now that it had faded even before wedlock, and that during the final months he had shut his eyes and pretended it was still there. But now the mists were breaking. @@ -7077,13 +7192,13 @@ Within the square shall be a circle, within the circle another square, until the visual eye is baffled. Here is meaning of a kind. His mother had forgotten herself in him. He would forget himself in his son. -He was at his duties when the news arrived--taking preparation. Boys are -marvellous creatures. Perhaps they will sink below the brutes; perhaps -they will attain to a woman’s tenderness. Though they despised Rickie, -and had suffered under Agnes’s meanness, their one thought this term was -to be gentle and to give no trouble. +He was at his duties when the news arrived—taking preparation. Boys +are marvellous creatures. Perhaps they will sink below the brutes; +perhaps they will attain to a woman’s tenderness. Though they despised +Rickie, and had suffered under Agnes’s meanness, their one thought this +term was to be gentle and to give no trouble. -“Rickie--one moment--” +“Rickie—one moment—” His face grew ashen. He followed Herbert into the passage, closing the door of the preparation room behind him. “Oh, is she safe?” he @@ -7094,117 +7209,120 @@ hostile note. “Our boy?” -“Girl--a girl, dear Rickie; a little daughter. She--she is in many ways -a healthy child. She will live--oh yes.” A flash of horror passed over +“Girl—a girl, dear Rickie; a little daughter. She—she is in many ways +a healthy child. She will live—oh yes.” A flash of horror passed over his face. He hurried into the preparation room, lifted the lid of his desk, glanced mechanically at the boys, and came out again. -Mrs. Lewin appeared through the door that led into their own part of the -house. +Mrs. Lewin appeared through the door that led into their own part of +the house. “Both going on well!” she cried; but her voice also was grave, exasperated. “What is it?” he gasped. “It’s something you daren’t tell me.” -“Only this”--stuttered Herbert. “You mustn’t mind when you see--she’s +“Only this”—stuttered Herbert. “You mustn’t mind when you see—she’s lame.” Mrs. Lewin disappeared. “Lame! but not as lame as I am?” -“Oh, my dear boy, worse. Don’t--oh, be a man in this. Come away from the -preparation room. Remember she’ll live--in many ways healthy--only just -this one defect.” +“Oh, my dear boy, worse. Don’t—oh, be a man in this. Come away from +the preparation room. Remember she’ll live—in many ways healthy—only +just this one defect.” The horror of that week never passed away from him. To the end of his -life he remembered the excuses--the consolations that the child would +life he remembered the excuses—the consolations that the child would live; suffered very little, if at all; would walk with crutches; would -certainly live. God was more merciful. A window was opened too wide on a -draughty day--after a short, painless illness his daughter died. But -the lesson he had learnt so glibly at Cambridge should be heeded now; no -child should ever be born to him again. +certainly live. God was more merciful. A window was opened too wide on +a draughty day—after a short, painless illness his daughter died. But +the lesson he had learnt so glibly at Cambridge should be heeded now; +no child should ever be born to him again. + XXII -That same term there took place at Dunwood House another event. With -their private tragedy it seemed to have no connection; but in time -Rickie perceived it as a bitter comment. Its developments were -unforeseen and lasting. It was perhaps the most terrible thing he had to -bear. - -Varden had now been a boarder for ten months. His health had broken in -the previous term,--partly, it is to be feared, as the result of the -indifferent food--and during the summer holidays he was attacked by a -series of agonizing earaches. His mother, a feeble person, wished to -keep him at home, but Herbert dissuaded her. Soon after the death of the -child there arose at Dunwood House one of those waves of hostility of -which no boy knows the origin nor any master can calculate the course. -Varden had never been popular--there was no reason why he should be--but -he had never been seriously bullied hitherto. One evening nearly the -whole house set on him. The prefects absented themselves, the bigger -boys stood round and the lesser boys, to whom power was delegated, flung -him down, and rubbed his face under the desks, and wrenched at his ears. -The noise penetrated the baize doors, and Herbert swept through and -punished the whole house, including Varden, whom it would not do to -leave out. The poor man was horrified. He approved of a little healthy -roughness, but this was pure brutalization. What had come over his boys? -Were they not gentlemen’s sons? He would not admit that if you herd -together human beings before they can understand each other the great -god Pan is angry, and will in the end evade your regulations and drive -them mad. That night the victim was screaming with pain, and the doctor -next day spoke of an operation. The suspense lasted a whole week. -Comment was made in the local papers, and the reputation not only of the -house but of the school was imperilled. “If only I had known,” repeated -Herbert--“if only I had known I would have arranged it all differently. -He should have had a cubicle.” The boy did not die, but he left Sawston, -never to return. - -The day before his departure Rickie sat with him some time, and tried to -talk in a way that was not pedantic. In his own sorrow, which he could -share with no one, least of all with his wife, he was still alive to the -sorrows of others. He still fought against apathy, though he was losing -the battle. + +That same term there took place at Dunwood House another event. +With their private tragedy it seemed to have no connection; but in +time Rickie perceived it as a bitter comment. Its developments were +unforeseen and lasting. It was perhaps the most terrible thing he had +to bear. + +Varden had now been a boarder for ten months. His health had broken +in the previous term,—partly, it is to be feared, as the result of +the indifferent food—and during the summer holidays he was attacked +by a series of agonizing earaches. His mother, a feeble person, +wished to keep him at home, but Herbert dissuaded her. Soon after +the death of the child there arose at Dunwood House one of those +waves of hostility of which no boy knows the origin nor any master +can calculate the course. Varden had never been popular—there was +no reason why he should be—but he had never been seriously bullied +hitherto. One evening nearly the whole house set on him. The prefects +absented themselves, the bigger boys stood round and the lesser boys, +to whom power was delegated, flung him down, and rubbed his face +under the desks, and wrenched at his ears. The noise penetrated the +baize doors, and Herbert swept through and punished the whole house, +including Varden, whom it would not do to leave out. The poor man was +horrified. He approved of a little healthy roughness, but this was pure +brutalization. What had come over his boys? Were they not gentlemen’s +sons? He would not admit that if you herd together human beings before +they can understand each other the great god Pan is angry, and will +in the end evade your regulations and drive them mad. That night the +victim was screaming with pain, and the doctor next day spoke of an +operation. The suspense lasted a whole week. Comment was made in the +local papers, and the reputation not only of the house but of the +school was imperilled. “If only I had known,” repeated Herbert—“if +only I had known I would have arranged it all differently. He should +have had a cubicle.” The boy did not die, but he left Sawston, never to +return. + +The day before his departure Rickie sat with him some time, and tried +to talk in a way that was not pedantic. In his own sorrow, which he +could share with no one, least of all with his wife, he was still alive +to the sorrows of others. He still fought against apathy, though he was +losing the battle. “Don’t lose heart,” he told him. “The world isn’t all going to be like -this. There are temptations and trials, of course, but nothing at all of -the kind you have had here.” +this. There are temptations and trials, of course, but nothing at all +of the kind you have had here.” “But school is the world in miniature, is it not, sir?” asked the boy, hoping to please one master by echoing what had been told him by -another. He was always on the lookout for sympathy--: it was one of the +another. He was always on the lookout for sympathy—: it was one of the things that had contributed to his downfall. “I never noticed that myself. I was unhappy at school, and in the world people can be very happy.” -Varden sighed and rolled about his eyes. “Are the fellows sorry for what -they did to me?” he asked in an affected voice. “I am sure I forgive -them from the bottom of my heart. We ought to forgive our enemies, -oughtn’t we, sir?” +Varden sighed and rolled about his eyes. “Are the fellows sorry for +what they did to me?” he asked in an affected voice. “I am sure I +forgive them from the bottom of my heart. We ought to forgive our +enemies, oughtn’t we, sir?” “But they aren’t your enemies. If you meet in five years’ time you may find each other splendid fellows.” The boy would not admit this. He had been reading some revivalistic -literature. “We ought to forgive our enemies,” he repeated; “and however -wicked they are, we ought not to wish them evil. When I was ill, and -death seemed nearest, I had many kind letters on this subject.” +literature. “We ought to forgive our enemies,” he repeated; “and +however wicked they are, we ought not to wish them evil. When I was +ill, and death seemed nearest, I had many kind letters on this subject.” Rickie knew about these “many kind letters.” Varden had induced the -silly nurse to write to people--people of all sorts, people that he -scarcely knew or did not know at all--detailing his misfortune, and +silly nurse to write to people—people of all sorts, people that he +scarcely knew or did not know at all—detailing his misfortune, and asking for spiritual aid and sympathy. “I am sorry for them,” he pursued. “I would not like to be like them.” Rickie sighed. He saw that a year at Dunwood House had produced a sanctimonious prig. “Don’t think about them, Varden. Think about -anything beautiful--say, music. You like music. Be happy. It’s your +anything beautiful—say, music. You like music. Be happy. It’s your duty. You can’t be good until you’ve had a little happiness. Then -perhaps you will think less about forgiving people and more about loving -them.” +perhaps you will think less about forgiving people and more about +loving them.” “I love them already, sir.” And Rickie, in desperation, asked if he might look at the many kind letters. @@ -7214,26 +7332,26 @@ twenty minutes the master perused it, while the invalid kept watch on his face. Rooks cawed out in the playing-fields, and close under the window there was the sound of delightful, good-tempered laughter. A boy is no devil, whatever boys may be. The letters were chilly productions, -somewhat clerical in tone, by whomsoever written. Varden, because he was -ill at the time, had been taken seriously. The writers declared that -his illness was fulfilling some mysterious purpose: suffering engendered -spiritual growth: he was showing signs of this already. They consented -to pray for him, some majestically, others shyly. But they all consented -with one exception, who worded his refusal as follows:-- - -Dear A.C. Varden,-- - -I ought to say that I never remember seeing you. I am sorry that you are -ill, and hope you are wrong about it. Why did you not write before, for -I could have helped you then? When they pulled your ear, you ought to -have gone like this (here was a rough sketch). I could not undertake -praying, but would think of you instead, if that would do. I am -twenty-two in April, built rather heavy, ordinary broad face, with eyes, -etc. I write all this because you have mixed me with some one else, for -I am not married, and do not want to be. I cannot think of you always, -but will promise a quarter of an hour daily (say 7.00-7.15 A.M.), and -might come to see you when you are better--that is, if you are a kid, -and you read like one. I have been otter-hunting-- +somewhat clerical in tone, by whomsoever written. Varden, because he +was ill at the time, had been taken seriously. The writers declared +that his illness was fulfilling some mysterious purpose: suffering +engendered spiritual growth: he was showing signs of this already. They +consented to pray for him, some majestically, others shyly. But they +all consented with one exception, who worded his refusal as follows:— + +Dear A.C. Varden,— + +I ought to say that I never remember seeing you. I am sorry that you +are ill, and hope you are wrong about it. Why did you not write before, +for I could have helped you then? When they pulled your ear, you +ought to have gone like this (here was a rough sketch). I could not +undertake praying, but would think of you instead, if that would do. I +am twenty-two in April, built rather heavy, ordinary broad face, with +eyes, etc. I write all this because you have mixed me with some one +else, for I am not married, and do not want to be. I cannot think of +you always, but will promise a quarter of an hour daily (say 7.00-7.15 +A.M.), and might come to see you when you are better—that is, if you +are a kid, and you read like one. I have been otter-hunting— Yours sincerely, @@ -7241,11 +7359,13 @@ Stephen Wonham + XXIII -Riekie went straight from Varden to his wife, who lay on the sofa in her -bedroom. There was now a wide gulf between them. She, like the world she -had created for him, was unreal. + +Rickie went straight from Varden to his wife, who lay on the sofa in +her bedroom. There was now a wide gulf between them. She, like the +world she had created for him, was unreal. “Agnes, darling,” he began, stroking her hand, “such an awkward little thing has happened.” @@ -7270,48 +7390,48 @@ at a place called Codford. I asked the nurse. It is all explained.” “There the matter ends.” -“I suppose so--if matters ever end.” +“I suppose so—if matters ever end.” -“If, by ill-luck, the person does call. I will just see him and say that -the boy has gone.” +“If, by ill-luck, the person does call. I will just see him and say +that the boy has gone.” “You, or I. I have got over all nonsense by this time. He’s absolutely nothing to me now.” He took up the tradesman’s book and played with it idly. On its crimson cover was stamped a grotesque sheep. How stale and stupid their life had become! -“Don’t talk like that, though,” she said uneasily. “Think how disastrous -it would be if you made a slip in speaking to him.” +“Don’t talk like that, though,” she said uneasily. “Think how +disastrous it would be if you made a slip in speaking to him.” -“Would it? It would have been disastrous once. But I expect, as a matter -of fact, that Aunt Emily has made the slip already.” +“Would it? It would have been disastrous once. But I expect, as a +matter of fact, that Aunt Emily has made the slip already.” His wife was displeased. “You need not talk in that cynical way. I credit Aunt Emily with better feeling. When I was there she did mention the matter, but only once. She, and I, and all who have any sense of decency, know better than to make slips, or to think of making them.” -Agnes kept up what she called “the family connection.” She had been once -alone to Cadover, and also corresponded with Mrs. Failing. She had never -told Rickie anything about her visit nor had he ever asked her. But, -from this moment, the whole subject was reopened. +Agnes kept up what she called “the family connection.” She had been +once alone to Cadover, and also corresponded with Mrs. Failing. She had +never told Rickie anything about her visit nor had he ever asked her. +But, from this moment, the whole subject was reopened. -“Most certainly he knows nothing,” she continued. “Why, he does not even -realize that Varden lives in our house! We are perfectly safe--unless -Aunt Emily were to die. Perhaps then--but we are perfectly safe for the -present.” +“Most certainly he knows nothing,” she continued. “Why, he does +not even realize that Varden lives in our house! We are perfectly +safe—unless Aunt Emily were to die. Perhaps then—but we are perfectly +safe for the present.” “When she did mention the matter, what did she say?” “We had a long talk,” said Agnes quietly. “She told me nothing -new--nothing new about the past, I mean. But we had a long talk about -the present. I think” and her voice grew displeased again--“that you +new—nothing new about the past, I mean. But we had a long talk about +the present. I think” —and her voice grew displeased again—“that you have been both wrong and foolish in refusing to make up your quarrel with Aunt Emily.” “Wrong and wise, I should say.” -“It isn’t to be expected that she--so much older and so sensitive--can +“It isn’t to be expected that she—so much older and so sensitive—can make the first step. But I know she’d he glad to see you.” “As far as I can remember that final scene in the garden, I accused her @@ -7325,7 +7445,7 @@ correct: Mrs. Failing had resented it more than anything. “No, dear. Thank you, no.” -“She is, after all--” She was going to say “your father’s sister,” but +“She is, after all—” She was going to say “your father’s sister,” but the expression was scarcely a happy one, and she turned it into, “She is, after all, growing old and lonely.” @@ -7363,13 +7483,13 @@ already.” “Rickie, what do you mean?” What did he mean? He meant that the relations between them were -fixed--that there would never be an influx of interest, nor even of +fixed—that there would never be an influx of interest, nor even of passion. To the end of life they would go on beating time, and this was enough for her. She was content with the daily round, the common task, performed indifferently. But he had dreamt of another helpmate, and of other things. -“We don’t want money--why, we don’t even spend any on travelling. I’ve +“We don’t want money—why, we don’t even spend any on travelling. I’ve invested all my salary and more. As far as human foresight goes, we shall never want money.” And his thoughts went out to the tiny grave. “You spoke of ‘right and proper,’ but the right and proper thing for my @@ -7383,8 +7503,8 @@ poetry.” ought to be paid for it.” Poor Agnes! Indeed, what was she to do? The first moment she set foot -in Cadover she had thought, “Oh, here is money. We must try and get it.” - Being a lady, she never mentioned the thought to her husband, but +in Cadover she had thought, “Oh, here is money. We must try and get +it.” Being a lady, she never mentioned the thought to her husband, but she concluded that it would occur to him too. And now, though it had occurred to him at last, he would not even write his aunt a little note. @@ -7400,9 +7520,9 @@ this ridiculous mystery?” She became incoherent. -“But WHY not? A reason why he shouldn’t know.” +“But _why_ not? A reason why he shouldn’t know.” -“A reason why he SHOULD know,” she retorted. “I never heard such +“A reason why he _should_ know,” she retorted. “I never heard such rubbish! Give me a reason why he should know.” “Because the lie we acted has ruined our lives.” @@ -7410,14 +7530,14 @@ rubbish! Give me a reason why he should know.” She looked in bewilderment at the well-appointed room. “It’s been like a poison we won’t acknowledge. How many times have you -thought of my brother? I’ve thought of him every day--not in love; don’t -misunderstand; only as a medicine I shirked. Down in what they call -the subconscious self he has been hurting me.” His voice broke. “Oh, my -darling, we acted a lie then, and this letter reminds us of it and gives -us one more chance. I have to say ‘we’ lied. I should be lying again if -I took quite all the blame. Let us ask God’s forgiveness together. Then -let us write, as coldly as you please, to Stephen, and tell him he is my -father’s son.” +thought of my brother? I’ve thought of him every day—not in love; +don’t misunderstand; only as a medicine I shirked. Down in what they +call the subconscious self he has been hurting me.” His voice broke. +“Oh, my darling, we acted a lie then, and this letter reminds us of +it and gives us one more chance. I have to say ‘we’ lied. I should be +lying again if I took quite all the blame. Let us ask God’s forgiveness +together. Then let us write, as coldly as you please, to Stephen, and +tell him he is my father’s son.” Her reply need not be quoted. It was the last time he attempted intimacy. And the remainder of their conversation, though long and @@ -7439,36 +7559,36 @@ the turbid waters. They break, and the stream continues. His father, as a final insult, had brought into the world a man unlike all the rest of them, a man dowered with coarse kindliness and rustic strength, a kind of cynical ploughboy, against whom their own misery and weakness might -stand more vividly relieved. “Born an Elliot--born a gentleman.” So -the vile phrase ran. But here was an Elliot whose badness was not even +stand more vividly relieved. “Born an Elliot—born a gentleman.” So the +vile phrase ran. But here was an Elliot whose badness was not even gentlemanly. For that Stephen was bad inherently he never doubted for a moment and he would have children: he, not Rickie, would contribute to -the stream; he, through his remote posterity, might mingled with the +the stream; he, through his remote posterity, might be mingled with the unknown sea. Thus musing he lay down to sleep, feeling diseased in body and soul. It -was no wonder that the night was the most terrible he had ever known. He -revisited Cambridge, and his name was a grey ghost over the door. Then -there recurred the voice of a gentle shadowy woman, Mrs. Aberdeen, “It -doesn’t seem hardly right.” Those had been her words, her only complaint -against the mysteries of change and death. She bowed her head and -laboured to make her “gentlemen” comfortable. She was labouring still. -As he lay in bed he asked God to grant him her wisdom; that he might -keep sorrow within due bounds; that he might abstain from extreme hatred -and envy of Stephen. It was seldom that he prayed so definitely, or -ventured to obtrude his private wishes. Religion was to him a service, a -mystic communion with good; not a means of getting what he wanted on the -earth. But tonight, through suffering, he was humbled, and became like -Mrs. Aberdeen. Hour after hour he awaited sleep and tried to endure the -faces that frothed in the gloom--his aunt’s, his father’s, and, worst -of all, the triumphant face of his brother. Once he struck at it, and -awoke, having hurt his hand on the wall. Then he prayed hysterically for -pardon and rest. +was no wonder that the night was the most terrible he had ever known. +He revisited Cambridge, and his name was a grey ghost over the door. +Then there recurred the voice of a gentle shadowy woman, Mrs. Aberdeen, +“It doesn’t seem hardly right.” Those had been her words, her only +complaint against the mysteries of change and death. She bowed her head +and laboured to make her “gentlemen” comfortable. She was labouring +still. As he lay in bed he asked God to grant him her wisdom; that he +might keep sorrow within due bounds; that he might abstain from extreme +hatred and envy of Stephen. It was seldom that he prayed so definitely, +or ventured to obtrude his private wishes. Religion was to him a +service, a mystic communion with good; not a means of getting what he +wanted on the earth. But tonight, through suffering, he was humbled, +and became like Mrs. Aberdeen. Hour after hour he awaited sleep and +tried to endure the faces that frothed in the gloom—his aunt’s, his +father’s, and, worst of all, the triumphant face of his brother. Once +he struck at it, and awoke, having hurt his hand on the wall. Then he +prayed hysterically for pardon and rest. Yet again did he awake, and from a more mysterious dream. He heard his -mother crying. She was crying quite distinctly in the darkened room. -He whispered, “Never mind, my darling, never mind,” and a voice echoed, -“Never mind--come away--let them die out--let them die out.” He lit a +mother crying. She was crying quite distinctly in the darkened room. He +whispered, “Never mind, my darling, never mind,” and a voice echoed, +“Never mind—come away—let them die out—let them die out.” He lit a candle, and the room was empty. Then, hurrying to the window, he saw above mean houses the frosty glories of Orion. @@ -7479,36 +7599,38 @@ him proceeded towards ruin. + XXIV -The coming months, though full of degradation and anxiety, were to bring -him nothing so terrible as that night. It was the crisis of this -agony. He was an outcast and a failure. But he was not again forced to -contemplate these facts so clearly. Varden left in the morning, carrying -the fatal letter with him. The whole house was relieved. The good angel -was with the boys again, or else (as Herbert preferred to think) they -had learnt a lesson, and were more humane in consequence. At all events, -the disastrous term concluded quietly. + +The coming months, though full of degradation and anxiety, were to +bring him nothing so terrible as that night. It was the crisis of this +agony. He was an outcast and a failure. But he was not again forced +to contemplate these facts so clearly. Varden left in the morning, +carrying the fatal letter with him. The whole house was relieved. The +good angel was with the boys again, or else (as Herbert preferred to +think) they had learnt a lesson, and were more humane in consequence. +At all events, the disastrous term concluded quietly. In the Christmas holidays the two masters made an abortive attempt to visit Italy, and at Easter there was talk of a cruise in the Aegean. -Herbert actually went, and enjoyed Athens and Delphi. The Elliots paid a -few visits together in England. They returned to Sawston about ten days -before school opened, to find that Widdrington was again stopping +Herbert actually went, and enjoyed Athens and Delphi. The Elliots paid +a few visits together in England. They returned to Sawston about ten +days before school opened, to find that Widdrington was again stopping with the Jacksons. Intercourse was painful, for the two families were scarcely on speaking terms; nor did the triumphant scaffoldings of -the new boarding-house make things easier. (The party of progress had -carried the day.) Widdrington was by nature touchy, but on this occasion -he refused to take offence, and often dropped in to see them. His manner -was friendly but critical. They agreed he was a nuisance. Then Agnes -left, very abruptly, to see Mrs. Failing, and while she was away Rickie -had a little stealthy intercourse. +the new boarding-house make things easier. (The party of progress +had carried the day.) Widdrington was by nature touchy, but on this +occasion he refused to take offence, and often dropped in to see them. +His manner was friendly but critical. They agreed he was a nuisance. +Then Agnes left, very abruptly, to see Mrs. Failing, and while she was +away Rickie had a little stealthy intercourse. Her absence, convenient as it was, puzzled him. Mrs. Silt, half goose, half stormy-petrel, had recently paid a flying visit to Cadover, and thence had flown, without an invitation, to Sawston. Generally she was -not a welcome guest. On this occasion Agnes had welcomed her, and--so -Rickie thought--had made her promise not to tell him something that she +not a welcome guest. On this occasion Agnes had welcomed her, and—so +Rickie thought—had made her promise not to tell him something that she knew. The ladies had talked mysteriously. “Mr. Silt would be one with you there,” said Mrs. Silt. Could there be any connection between the two visits? @@ -7539,18 +7661,18 @@ some shopping before going down to Sawston. “Did you read any of the Essays?” “Every one. Delightful. Couldn’t put them down. Now and then he spoilt -them by statistics--but you should read his descriptions of Nature. He -agrees with you: says the hills and trees are alive! Aunt Emily called -you his spiritual heir, which I thought nice of her. We both so lamented -that you have stopped writing.” She quoted fragments of the Essays as -they went up in the Stores’ lift. +them by statistics—but you should read his descriptions of Nature. +He agrees with you: says the hills and trees are alive! Aunt Emily +called you his spiritual heir, which I thought nice of her. We both so +lamented that you have stopped writing.” She quoted fragments of the +Essays as they went up in the Stores’ lift. “What else did you talk about?” “I’ve told you all my news. Now for yours. Let’s have tea first.” They sat down in the corridor amid ladies in every stage of -fatigue--haggard ladies, scarlet ladies, ladies with parcels that +fatigue—haggard ladies, scarlet ladies, ladies with parcels that twisted from every finger like joints of meat. Gentlemen were scarcer, but all were of the sub-fashionable type, to which Rickie himself now belonged. @@ -7567,10 +7689,10 @@ has brought a most beautiful photograph of the Parthenon.” She might have heard every word. It was only the feeling of pleasure that he wished to conceal. Even when we love people, we desire to keep -some corner secret from them, however small: it is a human right: it is -personality. She began to cross-question him, but they were interrupted. -A young lady at an adjacent table suddenly rose and cried, “Yes, it is -you. I thought so from your walk.” It was Maud Ansell. +some corner secret from them, however small: it is a human right: +it is personality. She began to cross-question him, but they were +interrupted. A young lady at an adjacent table suddenly rose and cried, +“Yes, it is you. I thought so from your walk.” It was Maud Ansell. “Oh, do come and join us!” he cried. “Let me introduce my wife.” Maud bowed quite stiffly, but Agnes, taking it for ill-breeding, was not @@ -7584,45 +7706,45 @@ Elliots’ table. “Why haven’t you ever come to us, pray?” “You weren’t to be asked.” She sprawled forward with a wagging finger. But her eyes had the honesty of her brother’s. “Don’t you remember the -day you left us? Father said, ‘Now, Mr. Elliot--’ Or did he call you +day you left us? Father said, ‘Now, Mr. Elliot—’ Or did he call you ‘Elliot’? How one does forget. Anyhow, father said you weren’t to wait for an invitation, and you said, ‘No, I won’t.’ Ours is a fair-sized -house,”--she turned somewhat haughtily to Agnes,--“and the second spare +house,”—she turned somewhat haughtily to Agnes,—“and the second spare room, on account of a harp that hangs on the wall, is always reserved for Stewart’s friends.” -“How is Mr. Ansell, your brother?” Maud’s face fell. “Hadn’t you heard?” - she said in awe-struck tones. +“How is Mr. Ansell, your brother?” Maud’s face fell. “Hadn’t you +heard?” she said in awe-struck tones. “No.” -“He hasn’t got his fellowship. It’s the second time he’s failed. -That means he will never get one. He will never be a don, nor live in +“He hasn’t got his fellowship. It’s the second time he’s failed. That +means he will never get one. He will never be a don, nor live in Cambridge and that, as we had hoped.” “Oh, poor, poor fellow!” said Mrs. Elliot with a remorse that was sincere, though her congratulations would not have been. “I am so very sorry.” -But Maud turned to Rickie. “Mr. Elliot, you might know. Tell me. What is -wrong with Stewart’s philosophy? What ought he to put in, or to alter, -so as to succeed?” +But Maud turned to Rickie. “Mr. Elliot, you might know. Tell me. What +is wrong with Stewart’s philosophy? What ought he to put in, or to +alter, so as to succeed?” Agnes, who knew better than this, smiled. “I don’t know,” said Rickie sadly. They were none of them so clever, after all. -“Hegel,” she continued vindictively. “They say he’s read too much Hegel. -But they never tell him what to read instead. Their own stuffy books, -I suppose. Look here--no, that’s the ‘Windsor.’” After a little groping -she produced a copy of “Mind,” and handed it round as if it was a -geological specimen. “Inside that there’s a paragraph written about -something Stewart’s written about before, and there it says he’s read -too much Hegel, and it seems now that that’s been the trouble all -along.” Her voice trembled. “I call it most unfair, and the fellowship’s -gone to a man who has counted the petals on an anemone.” +“Hegel,” she continued vindictively. “They say he’s read too much +Hegel. But they never tell him what to read instead. Their own stuffy +books, I suppose. Look here—no, that’s the ‘Windsor.’” After a little +groping she produced a copy of “Mind,” and handed it round as if it +was a geological specimen. “Inside that there’s a paragraph written +about something Stewart’s written about before, and there it says he’s +read too much Hegel, and it seems now that that’s been the trouble +all along.” Her voice trembled. “I call it most unfair, and the +fellowship’s gone to a man who has counted the petals on an anemone.” Rickie had no inclination to smile. @@ -7635,7 +7757,7 @@ him, though you knew you were not to wait for an invitation.” “If it comes to that, Miss Ansell,” retorted Rickie, in the laughing tones that one adopts on such occasions, “Stewart won’t come to me, -though he has had an invitation.” +though he _has_ had an invitation.” “Yes,” chimed in Agnes, “we ask Mr. Ansell again and again, and he will have none of us.” @@ -7670,18 +7792,18 @@ cubicles.” But she returned to the subject again, not only on that day but throughout the term. Could nothing be done for poor Mr. Ansell? It -seemed that she could not rest until all that he had once held dear was -humiliated. In this she strayed outside her nature: she was unpractical. -And those who stray outside their nature invite disaster. Rickie, goaded -by her, wrote to his friend again. The letter was in all ways unlike -his old self. Ansell did not answer it. But he did write to Mr. Jackson, -with whom he was not acquainted. +seemed that she could not rest until all that he had once held dear +was humiliated. In this she strayed outside her nature: she was +unpractical. And those who stray outside their nature invite disaster. +Rickie, goaded by her, wrote to his friend again. The letter was in all +ways unlike his old self. Ansell did not answer it. But he did write to +Mr. Jackson, with whom he was not acquainted. -“Dear Mr. Jackson,-- +“Dear Mr. Jackson,— -“I understand from Widdrington that you have a large house. I would like -to tell you how convenient it would be for me to come and stop in it. -June suits me best.-- +“I understand from Widdrington that you have a large house. I would +like to tell you how convenient it would be for me to come and stop in +it. June suits me best.— “Yours truly, @@ -7695,16 +7817,16 @@ resembled him. But Agnes continued her life, cheerfully beating time. She, too, knew that her marriage was a failure, and in her spare moments regretted it. She wished that her husband was handsomer, more successful, more -dictatorial. But she would think, “No, no; one mustn’t grumble. It can’t -be helped.” Ansell was wrong in sup-posing she might ever leave Rickie. -Spiritual apathy prevented her. Nor would she ever be tempted by a -jollier man. Here criticism would willingly alter its tone. For Agnes -also has her tragedy. She belonged to the type--not necessarily an -elevated one--that loves once and once only. Her love for Gerald had -not been a noble passion: no imagination transfigured it. But such as it -was, it sprang to embrace him, and he carried it away with him when he -died. Les amours gui suivrent sont moins involuntaires: by an effort of -the will she had warmed herself for Rickie. +dictatorial. But she would think, “No, no; one mustn’t grumble. It +can’t be helped.” Ansell was wrong in supposing she might ever leave +Rickie. Spiritual apathy prevented her. Nor would she ever be tempted +by a jollier man. Here criticism would willingly alter its tone. For +Agnes also has her tragedy. She belonged to the type—not necessarily +an elevated one—that loves once and once only. Her love for Gerald had +not been a noble passion: no imagination transfigured it. But such as +it was, it sprang to embrace him, and he carried it away with him when +he died. _Les amours qui suivrent sont moins involuntaires_: by an effort +of the will she had warmed herself for Rickie. She is not conscious of her tragedy, and therefore only the gods need weep at it. But it is fair to remember that hitherto she moves as one @@ -7712,8 +7834,10 @@ from whom the inner life has been withdrawn. + XXV + “I am afraid,” said Agnes, unfolding a letter that she had received in the morning, “that things go far from satisfactorily at Cadover.” @@ -7722,8 +7846,8 @@ at Sawston. “Indeed?” said Herbert, who took a friendly interest. “In what way? -“Do you remember us talking of Stephen--Stephen Wonham, who by an odd -coincidence--” +“Do you remember us talking of Stephen—Stephen Wonham, who by an odd +coincidence—” “Yes. Who wrote last year to that miserable failure Varden. I do.” @@ -7754,15 +7878,15 @@ Rickie never spoke. “In short, a beggar on horseback. Who is he? Has he got relatives?” -“She has always been both father and mother to him. Now it must all come -to an end. I blame her--and she blames herself--for not being severe -enough. He has grown up without fixed principles. He has always followed -his inclinations, and one knows the result of that.” +“She has always been both father and mother to him. Now it must all +come to an end. I blame her—and she blames herself—for not being +severe enough. He has grown up without fixed principles. He has always +followed his inclinations, and one knows the result of that.” Herbert assented. “To me Mrs. Failing’s course is perfectly plain. She -has a certain responsibility. She must pay the youth’s passage to one of -the colonies, start him handsomely in some business, and then break off -all communications.” +has a certain responsibility. She must pay the youth’s passage to one +of the colonies, start him handsomely in some business, and then break +off all communications.” “How funny! It is exactly what she is going to do.” @@ -7774,7 +7898,7 @@ turned out badly. When you write next, would you tell her how sorry I am?” “Indeed I will. Two years ago, when she was already a little anxious, -she did so wish you could undertake him. +she did so wish you could undertake him.” “I could not alter a grown man.” But in his heart he thought he could, and smiled at his sister amiably. “Terrible, isn’t it?” he remarked to @@ -7786,15 +7910,15 @@ evening post. Herbert took up all the letters, as he often did. -“Jackson?” he exclaimed. “What does the fellow want?” He read, and his -tone was mollified, “‘Dear Mr. Pembroke,--Could you, Mrs. Elliot, and -Mr. Elliot come to supper with us on Saturday next? I should not merely -be pleased, I should be grateful. My wife is writing formally to Mrs. -Elliot’--(Here, Agnes, take your letter),--but I venture to write as -well, and to add my more uncouth entreaties.’--An olive-branch. It is -time! But (ridiculous person!) does he think that we can leave the House -deserted and all go out pleasuring in term time?--Rickie, a letter for -you.” +“Jackson?” he exclaimed. “What does the fellow want?” He read, and +his tone was mollified, “‘Dear Mr. Pembroke,—Could you, Mrs. Elliot, +and Mr. Elliot come to supper with us on Saturday next? I should not +merely be pleased, I should be grateful. My wife is writing formally to +Mrs. Elliot’—(Here, Agnes, take your letter),—‘but I venture to write +as well, and to add my more uncouth entreaties.’—An olive-branch. +It is time! But (ridiculous person!) does he think that we can leave +the House deserted and all go out pleasuring in term time?—Rickie, a +letter for you.” “Mine’s the formal invitation,” said Agnes. “How very odd! Mr. Ansell will be there. Surely we asked him here! Did you know he knew the @@ -7815,13 +7939,13 @@ impending and all the machinery at full pressure. Though, Rickie, you will have to accept the Jacksons’ invitation.” “I cannot possibly go. I have been too rude; with Widdrington we always -meet here. I’ll stop with the boys--” His voice caught suddenly. He had +meet here. I’ll stop with the boys—” His voice caught suddenly. He had opened Mrs. Silt’s letter. “The Silts are not ill, I hope?” -“No. But, I say,”--he looked at his wife,--“I do think this is going too -far. Really, Agnes.” +“No. But, I say,”—he looked at his wife,—“I do think this is going +too far. Really, Agnes.” “What has happened?” @@ -7829,29 +7953,30 @@ far. Really, Agnes.” battle. “I cannot stand this sort of thing. There are limits.” He laid the letter down. It was Herbert who picked it up, and read: -“Aunt Emily has just written to us. We are so glad that her troubles are -over, in spite of the expense. It never does to live apart from one’s -own relatives so much as she has done up to now. He goes next Saturday -to Canada. What you told her about him just turned the scale. She has -asked us--” +“Aunt Emily has just written to us. We are so glad that her troubles +are over, in spite of the expense. It never does to live apart from +one’s own relatives so much as she has done up to now. He goes next +Saturday to Canada. What you told her about him just turned the scale. +She has asked us—” -“No, it’s too much,” he interrupted. “What I told her--told her about -him--no, I will have it out at last. Agnes!” +“No, it’s too much,” he interrupted. “What I told her—told her about +him—no, I will have it out at last. Agnes!” “Yes?” said his wife, raising her eyes from Mrs. Jackson’s formal invitation. -“It’s you--it’s you. I never mentioned him to her. Why, I’ve never seen +“It’s you—it’s you. I never mentioned him to her. Why, I’ve never seen her or written to her since. I accuse you.” -Then Herbert overbore him, and he collapsed. He was asked what he meant. -Why was he so excited? Of what did he accuse his wife. Each time he -spoke more feebly, and before long the brother and sister were laughing -at him. He felt bewildered, like a boy who knows that he is right but -cannot put his case correctly. He repeated, “I’ve never mentioned him to -her. It’s a libel. Never in my life.” And they cried, “My dear Rickie, -what an absurd fuss!” Then his brain cleared. His eye fell on the letter -that his wife had received from his aunt, and he reopened the battle. +Then Herbert overbore him, and he collapsed. He was asked what he +meant. Why was he so excited? Of what did he accuse his wife. Each +time he spoke more feebly, and before long the brother and sister were +laughing at him. He felt bewildered, like a boy who knows that he is +right but cannot put his case correctly. He repeated, “I’ve never +mentioned him to her. It’s a libel. Never in my life.” And they cried, +“My dear Rickie, what an absurd fuss!” Then his brain cleared. His eye +fell on the letter that his wife had received from his aunt, and he +reopened the battle. “Agnes, give me that letter, if you please.” @@ -7862,41 +7987,41 @@ that his wife had received from his aunt, and he reopened the battle. She put her hand on it, and looked at him doubtfully. She saw that she had failed to bully him. -“My aunt’s letter,” he repeated, rising to his feet and bending over the -table towards her. +“My aunt’s letter,” he repeated, rising to his feet and bending over +the table towards her. “Why, dear?” -“Yes, why indeed?” echoed Herbert. He too had bullied Rickie, but from a -purer motive: he had tried to stamp out a dissension between husband and -wife. It was not the first time he had intervened. +“Yes, why indeed?” echoed Herbert. He too had bullied Rickie, but from +a purer motive: he had tried to stamp out a dissension between husband +and wife. It was not the first time he had intervened. “The letter. For this reason: it will show me what you have done. I believe you have ruined Stephen. You have worked at it for two years. You have put words into my mouth to ‘turn the scale’ against him. He -goes to Canada--and all the world thinks it is owing to me. As I said -before--I advise you to stop smiling--you have gone a little too far.” +goes to Canada—and all the world thinks it is owing to me. As I said +before—I advise you to stop smiling—you have gone a little too far.” They were all on their feet now, standing round the little table. Agnes said nothing, but the fingers of her delicate hand tightened upon the letter. When her husband snatched at it she resisted, and with the -effect of a harlequinade everything went on the floor--lamb, mint +effect of a harlequinade everything went on the floor—lamb, mint sauce, gooseberries, lemonade, whisky. At once they were swamped in domesticities. She rang the bell for the servant, cries arose, dusters were brought, broken crockery (a wedding present) picked up from the carpet; while he stood wrathfully at the window, regarding the obscured sun’s decline. -“I MUST see her letter,” he repeated, when the agitation was over. He +“I _must_ see her letter,” he repeated, when the agitation was over. He was too angry to be diverted from his purpose. Only slight emotions are thwarted by an interlude of farce. “I’ve had enough of this quarrelling,” she retorted. “You know that the Silts are inaccurate. I think you might have given me the benefit of -the doubt. If you will know--have you forgotten that ride you took with +the doubt. If you will know—have you forgotten that ride you took with him?” -“I--” he was again bewildered. “The ride where I dreamt--” +“I—” he was again bewildered. “The ride where I dreamt—” “The ride where you turned back because you could not listen to a disgraceful poem?” @@ -7909,27 +8034,27 @@ ingratitude. She ought to know about it’ She does know, and I should be glad of an apology.” He had said something of the sort in a fit of irritation. Mrs. Silt was -right--he had helped to turn the scale. +right—he had helped to turn the scale. “Whatever I said, you knew what I meant. You knew I’d sooner cut my tongue out than have it used against him. Even then.” He sighed. Had he ruined his brother? A curious tenderness came over him, and passed when -he remembered his own dead child. “We have ruined him, then. Have you -any objection to ‘we’? We have disinherited him.” +he remembered his own dead child. “_We_ have ruined him, then. Have you +any objection to ‘we’? _We_ have disinherited him.” “I decide against you,” interposed Herbert. “I have now heard both -sides of this deplorable affair. You are talking most criminal nonsense. -‘Disinherit!’ Sentimental twaddle. It’s been clear to me from the first -that Mrs. Failing has been imposed upon by the Wonham man, a person with -no legal claim on her, and any one who exposes him performs a public -duty--” +sides of this deplorable affair. You are talking most criminal +nonsense. ‘Disinherit!’ Sentimental twaddle. It’s been clear to me from +the first that Mrs. Failing has been imposed upon by the Wonham man, a +person with no legal claim on her, and any one who exposes him performs +a public duty—” -“--And gets money.” +“—And gets money.” “Money?” He was always uneasy at the word. “Who mentioned money?” “Just understand me, Herbert, and of what it is that I accuse my wife.” - Tears came into his eyes. “It is not that I like the Wonham man, or +Tears came into his eyes. “It is not that I like the Wonham man, or think that he isn’t a drunkard and worse. He’s too awful in every way. But he ought to have my aunt’s money, because he’s lived all his life with her, and is her nephew as much as I am. You see, my father went @@ -7954,46 +8079,46 @@ the impulse. Why should he help one power of evil against another? Let them go intertwined to destruction. To enrich his brother would be as bad as enriching himself. If their aunt’s money ever did come to him, he would refuse to accept it. That was the easiest and most dignified -course. He troubled himself no longer with justice or pity, and the next -day he asked his wife’s pardon for his behaviour. +course. He troubled himself no longer with justice or pity, and the +next day he asked his wife’s pardon for his behaviour. In the dining-room the conversation continued. Agnes, without much -difficulty, gained her brother as an ally. She acknowledged that she had -been wrong in not telling him, and he then declared that she had been -right on every other point. She slurred a little over the incident of -her treachery, for Herbert was sometimes clearsighted over details, +difficulty, gained her brother as an ally. She acknowledged that she +had been wrong in not telling him, and he then declared that she had +been right on every other point. She slurred a little over the incident +of her treachery, for Herbert was sometimes clearsighted over details, though easily muddled in a general survey. Mrs. Failing had had plenty of direct causes of complaint, and she dwelt on these. She dealt, too, on the very handsome way in which the young man, “though he knew nothing, had never asked to know,” was being treated by his aunt. -“‘Handsome’ is the word,” said Herbert. “I hope not indulgently. He does -not deserve indulgence.” +“‘Handsome’ is the word,” said Herbert. “I hope not indulgently. He +does not deserve indulgence.” And she knew that he, like herself, could remember money, and that it lent an acknowledged halo to her cause. “It is not a savoury subject,” he continued, with sudden stiffness. “I -understand why Rickie is so hysterical. My impulse”--he laid his hand on -her shoulder--“is to abandon it at once. But if I am to be of any use -to you, I must hear it all. There are moments when we must look facts in -the face.” +understand why Rickie is so hysterical. My impulse”—he laid his hand +on her shoulder—“is to abandon it at once. But if I am to be of any +use to you, I must hear it all. There are moments when we must look +facts in the face.” She did not shrink from the subject as much as he thought, as much as she herself could have wished. Two years before, it had filled her with a physical loathing. But by now she had accustomed herself to it. -“I am afraid, Bertie boy, there is nothing else to bear, I have tried to -find out again and again, but Aunt Emily will not tell me. I suppose it -is natural. She wants to shield the Elliot name. She only told us in a -fit of temper; then we all agreed to keep it to ourselves; then Rickie -again mismanaged her, and ever since she has refused to let us know any -details.” +“I am afraid, Bertie boy, there is nothing else to hear, I have tried +to find out again and again, but Aunt Emily will not tell me. I suppose +it is natural. She wants to shield the Elliot name. She only told us +in a fit of temper; then we all agreed to keep it to ourselves; then +Rickie again mismanaged her, and ever since she has refused to let us +know any details.” “A most unsatisfactory position.” “So I feel.” She sat down again with -a sigh. Mrs. Failing had been a great trial to her orderly mind. “She is -an odd woman. She is always laughing. She actually finds it amusing that -we know no more.” +a sigh. Mrs. Failing had been a great trial to her orderly mind. “She +is an odd woman. She is always laughing. She actually finds it amusing +that we know no more.” “They are an odd family.” @@ -8003,35 +8128,37 @@ Herbert, with unusual sweetness, bent down and kissed her. She thanked him. -Their tenderness soon passed. They exchanged it with averted eyes. It -embarrassed them. There are moments for all of us when we seem obliged -to speak in a new unprofitable tongue. One might fancy a seraph, vexed -with our normal language, who touches the pious to blasphemy, -the blasphemous to piety. The seraph passes, and we proceed -unaltered--conscious, however, that we have not been ourselves, and that -we may fail in this function yet again. So Agnes and Herbert, as they -proceeded to discuss the Jackson’s supper-party, had an uneasy memory of -spiritual deserts, spiritual streams. +Their tenderness soon passed. They exchanged it with averted eyes. +It embarrassed them. There are moments for all of us when we seem +obliged to speak in a new unprofitable tongue. One might fancy a +seraph, vexed with our normal language, who touches the pious to +blasphemy, the blasphemous to piety. The seraph passes, and we proceed +unaltered—conscious, however, that we have not been ourselves, and +that we may fail in this function yet again. So Agnes and Herbert, as +they proceeded to discuss the Jackson’s supper-party, had an uneasy +memory of spiritual deserts, spiritual streams. + XXVI -Poor Mr. Ansell was actually sitting in the garden of Dunwood House. It -was Sunday morning. The air was full of roasting beef. The sound of + +Poor Mr. Ansell was actually sitting in the garden of Dunwood House. +It was Sunday morning. The air was full of roasting beef. The sound of a manly hymn, taken very fast, floated over the road from the school chapel. He frowned, for he was reading a book, the Essays of Anthony Eustace Failing. -He was here on account of this book--at least so he told himself. It had -just been published, and the Jacksons were sure that Mr. Elliot would -have a copy. For a book one may go anywhere. It would not have been -logical to enter Dunwood House for the purpose of seeing Rickie, when -Rickie had not come to supper yesterday to see him. He was at Sawston to -assure himself of his friend’s grave. With quiet eyes he had intended -to view the sods, with unfaltering fingers to inscribe the epitaph. Love -remained. But in high matters he was practical. He knew that it would be -useless to reveal it. +He was here on account of this book—at least so he told himself. It +had just been published, and the Jacksons were sure that Mr. Elliot +would have a copy. For a book one may go anywhere. It would not have +been logical to enter Dunwood House for the purpose of seeing Rickie, +when Rickie had not come to supper yesterday to see him. He was at +Sawston to assure himself of his friend’s grave. With quiet eyes he had +intended to view the sods, with unfaltering fingers to inscribe the +epitaph. Love remained. But in high matters he was practical. He knew +that it would be useless to reveal it. “Morning!” said a voice behind him. @@ -8040,18 +8167,18 @@ with his reading. “Morning!” said the voice again. -As for the Essays, the thought was somewhat old-fashioned, and he picked -many holes in it; nor was he anything but bored by the prospect of the -brotherhood of man. However, Mr. Failing stuck to his guns, such as they -were, and fired from them several good remarks. Very notable was his -distinction between coarseness and vulgarity (coarseness, revealing -something; vulgarity, concealing something), and his avowed preference -for coarseness. Vulgarity, to him, had been the primal curse, the shoddy -reticence that prevents man opening his heart to man, the power -that makes against equality. From it sprang all the things that -he hated--class shibboleths, ladies, lidies, the game laws, the -Conservative party--all the things that accent the divergencies rather -than the similarities in human nature. Whereas coarseness--But at this +As for the Essays, the thought was somewhat old-fashioned, and he +picked many holes in it; nor was he anything but bored by the prospect +of the brotherhood of man. However, Mr. Failing stuck to his guns, such +as they were, and fired from them several good remarks. Very notable +was his distinction between coarseness and vulgarity (coarseness, +revealing something; vulgarity, concealing something), and his avowed +preference for coarseness. Vulgarity, to him, had been the primal +curse, the shoddy reticence that prevents man opening his heart to man, +the power that makes against equality. From it sprang all the things +that he hated—class shibboleths, ladies, lidies, the game laws, the +Conservative party—all the things that accent the divergencies rather +than the similarities in human nature. Whereas coarseness—But at this point Herbert Pembroke had scrawled with a blue pencil: “Childish. One reads no further.” @@ -8062,63 +8189,65 @@ however unsuccessfully, to practice what he preached. Mrs. Failing, in her Introduction, described with delicate irony his difficulties as a landlord; but she did not record the love in which his name was held. Nor could her irony touch him when he cried: “Attain the practical -through the unpractical. There is no other road.” Ansell was inclined to -think that the unpractical is its own reward, but he respected those who -attempted to journey beyond it. We must all of us go over the mountains. -There is certainly no other road. +through the unpractical. There is no other road.” Ansell was inclined +to think that the unpractical is its own reward, but he respected those +who attempted to journey beyond it. We must all of us go over the +mountains. There is certainly no other road. “Nice morning!” said the voice. It was not a nice morning, so Ansell felt bound to speak. He answered: -“No. Why?” A clod of earth immediately struck him on the back. He turned -round indignantly, for he hated physical rudeness. A square man of ruddy -aspect was pacing the gravel path, his hands deep in his pockets. He was -very angry. Then he saw that the clod of earth nourished a blue lobelia, -and that a wound of corresponding size appeared on the pie-shaped bed. -He was not so angry. “I expect they will mind it,” he reflected. Last -night, at the Jacksons’, Agnes had displayed a brisk pity that made -him wish to wring her neck. Maude had not exaggerated. Mr. Pembroke had -patronized through a sorrowful voice and large round eyes. Till he -met these people he had never been told that his career was a failure. -Apparently it was. They would never have been civil to him if it had -been a success, if they or theirs had anything to fear from him. - -In many ways Ansell was a conceited man; but he was never proud of being -right. He had foreseen Rickie’s catastrophe from the first, but derived -from this no consolation. In many ways he was pedantic; but his -pedantry lay close to the vineyards of life--far closer than that fetich -Experience of the innumerable tea-cups. He had a great many facts to -learn, and before he died he learnt a suitable quantity. But he never -forgot that the holiness of the heart’s imagination can alone classify -these facts--can alone decide which is an exception, which an example. -“How unpractical it all is!” That was his comment on Dunwood House. -“How unbusiness-like! They live together without love. They work without -conviction. They seek money without requiring it. They die, and nothing -will have happened, either for themselves or for others.” It is a -comment that the academic mind will often make when first confronted +“No. Why?” A clod of earth immediately struck him on the back. He +turned round indignantly, for he hated physical rudeness. A square +man of ruddy aspect was pacing the gravel path, his hands deep in +his pockets. He was very angry. Then he saw that the clod of earth +nourished a blue lobelia, and that a wound of corresponding size +appeared on the pie-shaped bed. He was not so angry. “I expect they +will mind it,” he reflected. Last night, at the Jacksons’, Agnes had +displayed a brisk pity that made him wish to wring her neck. Maude had +not exaggerated. Mr. Pembroke had patronized through a sorrowful voice +and large round eyes. Till he met these people he had never been told +that his career was a failure. Apparently it was. They would never +have been civil to him if it had been a success, if they or theirs had +anything to fear from him. + +In many ways Ansell was a conceited man; but he was never proud of +being right. He had foreseen Rickie’s catastrophe from the first, but +derived from this no consolation. In many ways he was pedantic; but +his pedantry lay close to the vineyards of life—far closer than that +fetich Experience of the innumerable tea-cups. He had a great many +facts to learn, and before he died he learnt a suitable quantity. But +he never forgot that the holiness of the heart’s imagination can alone +classify these facts—can alone decide which is an exception, which an +example. “How unpractical it all is!” That was his comment on Dunwood +House. “How unbusiness-like! They live together without love. They work +without conviction. They seek money without requiring it. They die, and +nothing will have happened, either for themselves or for others.” It is +a comment that the academic mind will often make when first confronted with the world. But he was becoming illogical. The clod of earth had disturbed him. Brushing the dirt off his back, he returned to the book. What a curious affair was the essay on “Gaps”! Solitude, star-crowned, pacing the -fields of England, has a dialogue with Seclusion. He, poor little man, -lives in the choicest scenery--among rocks, forests, emerald lawns, -azure lakes. To keep people out he has built round his domain a high -wall, on which is graven his motto--“Procul este profani.” But he cannot -enjoy himself. His only pleasure is in mocking the absent Profane. They -are in his mind night and day. Their blemishes and stupidities form the -subject of his great poem, “In the Heart of Nature.” Then Solitude tells -him that so it always will be until he makes a gap in the wall, and -permits his seclusion to be the sport of circumstance. He obeys. The -Profane invade him; but for short intervals they wander elsewhere, and -during those intervals the heart of Nature is revealed to him. +fields of England, has a dialogue with Seclusion. He, poor little +man, lives in the choicest scenery—among rocks, forests, emerald +lawns, azure lakes. To keep people out he has built round his domain +a high wall, on which is graven his motto—“Procul este profani.” +But he cannot enjoy himself. His only pleasure is in mocking the +absent Profane. They are in his mind night and day. Their blemishes +and stupidities form the subject of his great poem, “In the Heart of +Nature.” Then Solitude tells him that so it always will be until he +makes a gap in the wall, and permits his seclusion to be the sport of +circumstance. He obeys. The Profane invade him; but for short intervals +they wander elsewhere, and during those intervals the heart of Nature +is revealed to him. This dialogue had really been suggested to Mr. Failing by a talk with -his brother-in-law. It also touched Ansell. He looked at the man who -had thrown the clod, and was now pacing with obvious youth and impudence -upon the lawn. “Shall I improve my soul at his expense?” he thought. “I -suppose I had better.” In friendly tones he remarked, “Were you waiting -for Mr. Pembroke?” +his brother-in-law. It also touched Ansell. He looked at the man +who had thrown the clod, and was now pacing with obvious youth and +impudence upon the lawn. “Shall I improve my soul at his expense?” he +thought. “I suppose I had better.” In friendly tones he remarked, “Were +you waiting for Mr. Pembroke?” “No,” said the young man. “Why?” @@ -8126,9 +8255,9 @@ Ansell, after a moment’s admiration, flung the Essays at him. They hit him in the back. The next moment he lay on his own back in the lobelia pie. -“But it hurts!” he gasped, in the tones of a puzzled civilization. “What -you do hurts!” For the young man was nicking him over the shins with the -rim of the book cover. “Little brute-ee--ow!” +“But it hurts!” he gasped, in the tones of a puzzled civilization. +“What you do hurts!” For the young man was nicking him over the shins +with the rim of the book cover. “Little brute—_ee—ow_!” “Then say Pax!” @@ -8136,9 +8265,9 @@ Something revolted in Ansell. Why should he say Pax? Freeing his hand, he caught the little brute under the chin, and was again knocked into the lobelias by a blow on the mouth. -“Say Pax!” he repeated, pressing the philosopher’s skull into the mould; -and he added, with an anxiety that was somehow not offensive, “I do -advise you. You’d really better.” +“Say Pax!” he repeated, pressing the philosopher’s skull into the +mould; and he added, with an anxiety that was somehow not offensive, “I +do advise you. You’d really better.” Ansell swallowed a little blood. He tried to move, and he could not. He looked carefully into the young man’s eyes and into the palm of his @@ -8148,8 +8277,8 @@ right hand, which at present swung unclenched, and he said “Pax!” loathed so much as the hearty Britisher; but he shook hands, and they stared at each other awkwardly. With civil murmurs they picked the little blue flowers off each other’s clothes. Ansell was trying to -remember why they had quarrelled, and the young man was wondering why he -had not guarded his chin properly. In the distance a hymn swung off-- +remember why they had quarrelled, and the young man was wondering why +he had not guarded his chin properly. In the distance a hymn swung off— “Fight the good. Fight with. All thy. Might.” @@ -8157,9 +8286,9 @@ They would be across from the chapel soon. “Your book, sir?” -“Thank you, sir--yes.” +“Thank you, sir—yes.” -“Why!” cried the young man--“why, it’s ‘What We Want’! At least the +“Why!” cried the young man—“why, it’s ‘What We Want’! At least the binding’s exactly the same.” “It’s called ‘Essays,’” said Ansell. @@ -8169,19 +8298,19 @@ because three W’s, you see, in a row, she said, are vulgar, and sound like Tolstoy, if you’ve heard of him.” Ansell confessed to an acquaintance, and then said, “Do you think ‘What -We Want’ vulgar?” He was not at all interested, but he desired to escape -from the atmosphere of pugilistic courtesy, more painful to him than -blows themselves. +We Want’ vulgar?” He was not at all interested, but he desired to +escape from the atmosphere of pugilistic courtesy, more painful to him +than blows themselves. -“It IS the same book,” said the other--“same title, same binding.” He +“It _is_ the same book,” said the other—“same title, same binding.” He weighed it like a brick in his muddy hands. “Open it to see if the inside corresponds,” said Ansell, swallowing a laugh and a little more blood with it. With a liberal allowance of thumb-marks, he turned the pages over and -read, “‘the rural silence that is not a poet’s luxury but a practical -need for all men.’ Yes, it is the same book.” Smiling pleasantly over +read, “‘—the rural silence that is not a poet’s luxury but a practical +need for all men.’ Yes, it _is_ the same book.” Smiling pleasantly over the discovery, he handed it back to the owner. “And is it true?” @@ -8203,12 +8332,12 @@ the discovery, he handed it back to the owner. Ansell smiled, but a slight fire in the man’s eye checked him. After all, this was a person who could knock one down. Moreover, there was no reason why he should be teased. He had it in him to retort “No. Why?” - He was not stupid in essentials. He was irritable--in Ansell’s eyes a +He was not stupid in essentials. He was irritable—in Ansell’s eyes a frequent sign of grace. Sitting down on the upturned seat, he remarked, “I like the book in many ways. I don’t think ‘What We Want’ would have -been a vulgar title. But I don’t intend to spoil myself on the chance of -mending the world, which is what the creed amounts to. Nor am I keen on -rural silences.” +been a vulgar title. But I don’t intend to spoil myself on the chance +of mending the world, which is what the creed amounts to. Nor am I keen +on rural silences.” “Curse!” he said thoughtfully, sucking at an empty pipe. @@ -8216,7 +8345,7 @@ rural silences.” “Please.” -“Rickie’s is invariably--filthy.” +“Rickie’s is invariably filthy.” “Who says I know Rickie?” @@ -8233,18 +8362,18 @@ ascended from bowl and stem, and how, when the stem was in his mouth, he bit it. He gave the idea of an animal with just enough soul to contemplate its own bliss. United with refinement, such a type was common in Greece. It is not common today, and Ansell was surprised to -find it in a friend of Rickie’s. Rickie, if he could even “kind of know” - such a creature, must be stirring in his grave. +find it in a friend of Rickie’s. Rickie, if he could even “kind of +know” such a creature, must be stirring in his grave. “Do you know his wife too?” “Oh yes. In a way I know Agnes. But thank you for this tobacco. Last night I nearly died. I have no money.” -“Take the whole pouch--do.” +“Take the whole pouch—do.” -After a moment’s hesitation he did. “Fight the good” had scarcely ended, -so quickly had their intimacy grown. +After a moment’s hesitation he did. “Fight the good” had scarcely +ended, so quickly had their intimacy grown. “I suppose you’re a friend of Rickie’s?” @@ -8256,10 +8385,11 @@ Cambridge, but I have seen very little of him since.” “I believe so.” -His teeth closed on his pipe. Chapel was over. The organist was prancing -through the voluntary, and the first ripple of boys had already reached -Dunwood House. In a few minutes the masters would be here too, and -Ansell, who was becoming interested, hurried the conversation forward. +His teeth closed on his pipe. Chapel was over. The organist was +prancing through the voluntary, and the first ripple of boys had +already reached Dunwood House. In a few minutes the masters would +be here too, and Ansell, who was becoming interested, hurried the +conversation forward. “Have you come far?” @@ -8273,19 +8403,20 @@ out of Salisbury Plain. I mean, I lived.” He was alarmed at this. Such knowledge seemed simply diabolical. Ansell explained that if his boots were chalky, if his clothes had obviously been slept in, if he knew Mrs. Failing, if he knew Wiltshire, and if -he could buy no tobacco--then the deduction was possible. “You do just +he could buy no tobacco—then the deduction was possible. “You do just attend,” he murmured. -The house was filling with boys, and Ansell saw, to his regret, the head -of Agnes over the thuyia hedge that separated the small front garden -from the side lawn where he was sitting. After a few minutes it was -followed by the heads of Rickie and Mr. Pembroke. All the heads were -turned the other way. But they would find his card in the hall, and if -the man had left any message they would find that too. “What are you?” - he demanded. “Who are you--your name--I don’t care about that. But it -interests me to class people, and up to now I have failed with you.” +The house was filling with boys, and Ansell saw, to his regret, the +head of Agnes over the thuyia hedge that separated the small front +garden from the side lawn where he was sitting. After a few minutes it +was followed by the heads of Rickie and Mr. Pembroke. All the heads +were turned the other way. But they would find his card in the hall, +and if the man had left any message they would find that too. “What are +you?” he demanded. “Who are you—your name—I don’t care about that. +But it interests me to class people, and up to now I have failed with +you.” -“I--” He stopped. Ansell reflected that there are worse answers. “I +“I—” He stopped. Ansell reflected that there are worse answers. “I really don’t know what I am. Used to think I was something special, but strikes me now I feel much like other chaps. Used to look down on the labourers. Used to take for granted I was a gentleman, but really I @@ -8294,107 +8425,107 @@ don’t know where I do belong.” “One belongs to the place one sleeps in and to the people one eats with.” -“As often as not I sleep out of doors and eat by myself, so that doesn’t -get you any further.” +“As often as not I sleep out of doors and eat by myself, so that +doesn’t get you any further.” A silence, akin to poetry, invaded Ansell. Was it only a pose to like this man, or was he really wonderful? He was not romantic, for Romance is a figure with outstretched hands, yearning for the unattainable. Certain figures of the Greeks, to whom we continually return, suggested -him a little. One expected nothing of him--no purity of phrase nor +him a little. One expected nothing of him—no purity of phrase nor swift edged thought. Yet the conviction grew that he had been back -somewhere--back to some table of the gods, spread in a field where there -is no noise, and that he belonged for ever to the guests with whom he -had eaten. Meanwhile he was simple and frank, and what he could tell he -would tell to any one. He had not the suburban reticence. Ansell asked -him, “Why did Mrs. Failing turn you out of Cadover? I should like to -hear that too.” - -“Because she was tired of me. Because, again, I couldn’t keep quiet over -the farm hands. I ask you, is it right?” He became incoherent. Ansell -caught, “And they grow old--they don’t play games--it ends they can’t -play.” An illustration emerged. “Take a kitten--if you fool about with -her, she goes on playing well into a cat.” +somewhere—back to some table of the gods, spread in a field where +there is no noise, and that he belonged for ever to the guests with +whom he had eaten. Meanwhile he was simple and frank, and what he could +tell he would tell to any one. He had not the suburban reticence. +Ansell asked him, “Why did Mrs. Failing turn you out of Cadover? I +should like to hear that too.” + +“Because she was tired of me. Because, again, I couldn’t keep quiet +over the farm hands. I ask you, is it right?” He became incoherent. +Ansell caught, “And they grow old—they don’t play games—it ends they +can’t play.” An illustration emerged. “Take a kitten—if you fool about +with her, she goes on playing well into a cat.” “But Mrs. Failing minded no mice being caught.” “Mice?” said the young man blankly. “What I was going to say is, that some one was jealous of my being at Cadover. I’ll mention no names, but I fancy it was Mrs. Silt. I’m sorry for her if it was. Anyhow, she set -Mrs. Failing against me. It came on the top of other things--and out I +Mrs. Failing against me. It came on the top of other things—and out I went.” “What did Mrs. Silt, whose name I don’t mention, say?” He looked guilty. “I don’t know. Easy enough to find something to say. -The point is that she said something. You know, Mr.--I don’t know your +The point is that she said something. You know, Mr.—I don’t know your name, mine’s Wonham, but I’m more grateful than I can put it over this tobacco. I mean, you ought to know there is another side to this quarrel. It’s wrong, but it’s there.” -Ansell told him not to be uneasy: he lad already guessed that there +Ansell told him not to be uneasy: he had already guessed that there might be another side. But he could not make out why Mr. Wonham should have come straight from the aunt to the nephew. They were now sitting -on the upturned seat. “What We Want,” a good deal shattered, lay between -them. +on the upturned seat. “What We Want,” a good deal shattered, lay +between them. “On account of above-mentioned reasons, there was a row. I don’t -know--you can guess the style of thing. She wanted to treat me to the -colonies, and had up the parson to talk soft-sawder and make out that -a boundless continent was the place for a lad like me. I said, ‘I can’t -run up to the Rings without getting tired, nor gallop a horse out -of this view without tiring it, so what is the point of a boundless -continent?’ Then I saw that she was frightened of me, and bluffed a bit -more, and in the end I was nipped. She caught me--just like her! when -I had nothing on but flannels, and was coming into the house, having -licked the Cadchurch team. She stood up in the doorway between those -stone pilasters and said, ‘No! Never again!’ and behind her was -Wilbraham, whom I tried to turn out, and the gardener, and poor old -Leighton, who hates being hurt. She said, ‘There’s a hundred pounds for -you at the London bank, and as much more in December. Go!’ I said, ‘Keep -your--money, and tell me whose son I am.’ I didn’t care really. I only -said it on the off-chance of hurting her. Sure enough, she caught on -to the doorhandle (being lame) and said, ‘I can’t--I promised--I don’t -really want to,’ and Wilbraham did stare. Then--she’s very queer--she -burst out laughing, and went for the packet after all, and we heard her -laugh through the window as she got it. She rolled it at me down -the steps, and she says, ‘A leaf out of the eternal comedy for you, -Stephen,’ or something of that sort. I opened it as I walked down the -drive, she laughing always and catching on to the handle of the front -door. Of course it wasn’t comic at all. But down in the village there -were both cricket teams, already a little tight, and the mad plumber -shouting ‘Rights of Man!’ They knew I was turned out. We did have a row, -and kept it up too. They daren’t touch Wilbraham’s windows, but there -isn’t much glass left up at Cadover. When you start, it’s worth going -on, but in the end I had to cut. They subscribed a bob here and a bob -there, and these are Flea Thompson’s Sundays. I sent a line to Leighton -not to forward my own things: I don’t fancy them. They aren’t really -mine.” He did not mention his great symbolic act, performed, it is to be -feared, when he was rather drunk and the friendly policeman was looking -the other way. He had cast all his flannels into the little millpond, -and then waded himself through the dark cold water to the new clothes -on the other side. Some one had flung his pipe and his packet after him. -The packet had fallen short. For this reason it was wet when he handed -it to Ansell, and ink that had been dry for twenty-three years had begun -to run again. +know—you can guess the style of thing. She wanted to treat me to +the colonies, and had up the parson to talk soft-sawder and make out +that a boundless continent was the place for a lad like me. I said, +‘I can’t run up to the Rings without getting tired, nor gallop a +horse out of this view without tiring it, so what is the point of a +boundless continent?’ Then I saw that she was frightened of me, and +bluffed a bit more, and in the end I was nipped. She caught me—just +like her—when I had nothing on but flannels, and was coming into the +house, having licked the Cadchurch team. She stood up in the doorway +between those stone pilasters and said, ‘No! Never again!’ and behind +her was Wilbraham, whom I tried to turn out, and the gardener, and +poor old Leighton, who hates being hurt. She said, ‘There’s a hundred +pounds for you at the London bank, and as much more in December. Go!’ +I said, ‘Keep your—money, and tell me whose son I am.’ I didn’t care +really. I only said it on the off-chance of hurting her. Sure enough, +she caught on to the doorhandle (being lame) and said, ‘I can’t—I +promised—I don’t really want to,’ and Wilbraham did stare. Then—she’s +very queer—she burst out laughing, and went for the packet after all, +and we heard her laugh through the window as she got it. She rolled it +at me down the steps, and she says, ‘A leaf out of the eternal comedy +for you, Stephen,’ or something of that sort. I opened it as I walked +down the drive, she laughing always and catching on to the handle of +the front door. Of course it wasn’t comic at all. But down in the +village there were both cricket teams, already a little tight, and +the mad plumber shouting ‘Rights of Man!’ They knew I was turned out. +We did have a row, and kept it up too. They daren’t touch Wilbraham’s +windows, but there isn’t much glass left up at Cadover. When you start, +it’s worth going on, but in the end I had to cut. They subscribed a +bob here and a bob there, and these are Flea Thompson’s Sundays. I +sent a line to Leighton not to forward my own things: I don’t fancy +them. They aren’t really mine.” He did not mention his great symbolic +act, performed, it is to be feared, when he was rather drunk and the +friendly policeman was looking the other way. He had cast all his +flannels into the little millpond, and then waded himself through the +dark cold water to the new clothes on the other side. Some one had +flung his pipe and his packet after him. The packet had fallen short. +For this reason it was wet when he handed it to Ansell, and ink that +had been dry for twenty-three years had begun to run again. “I wondered if you’re right about the hundred pounds,” said Ansell -gravely. “It is pleasant to be proud, but it is unpleasant to die in the -night through not having any tobacco.” +gravely. “It is pleasant to be proud, but it is unpleasant to die in +the night through not having any tobacco.” “But I’m not proud. Look how I’ve taken your pouch! The hundred pounds -was--well, can’t you see yourself, it was quite different? It was, so to -speak, inconvenient for me to take the hundred pounds. Or look again how -I took a shilling from a boy who earns nine bob a-week! Proves pretty -conclusively I’m not proud.” - -Ansell saw it was useless to argue. He perceived, beneath the slatternly -use of words, the man, buttoned up in them, just as his body was -buttoned up in a shoddy suit,--and he wondered more than ever that such -a man should know the Elliots. He looked at the face, which was frank, -proud, and beautiful, if truth is beauty. Of mercy or tact such a face -knew little. It might be coarse, but it had in it nothing vulgar or -wantonly cruel. “May I read these papers?” he said. +was—well, can’t you see yourself, it was quite different? It was, so to +speak, _inconvenient_ for me to take the hundred pounds. Or look again +how I took a shilling from a boy who earns nine bob a-week! Proves +pretty conclusively I’m not proud.” + +Ansell saw it was useless to argue. He perceived, beneath the +slatternly use of words, the man, buttoned up in them, just as his body +was buttoned up in a shoddy suit,—and he wondered more than ever that +such a man should know the Elliots. He looked at the face, which was +frank, proud, and beautiful, if truth is beauty. Of mercy or tact such +a face knew little. It might be coarse, but it had in it nothing vulgar +or wantonly cruel. “May I read these papers?” he said. “Of course. Oh yes; didn’t I say? I’m Rickie’s half-brother, come here to tell him the news. He doesn’t know. There it is, put shortly for @@ -8404,24 +8535,25 @@ men, you know, never locked up as they ought to be. I turned the whole place upside down to teach them.” “Here is your packet again,” said Ansell. “Thank you. How interesting!” - He rose from the seat and turned towards Dunwood House. He looked at +He rose from the seat and turned towards Dunwood House. He looked at the bow-windows, the cheap picturesque gables, the terracotta dragons -clawing a dirty sky. He listened to the clink of plates and to the voice -of Mr. Pembroke taking one of his innumerable roll-calls. He looked at -the bed of lobelias. How interesting! What else was there to say? +clawing a dirty sky. He listened to the clink of plates and to the +voice of Mr. Pembroke taking one of his innumerable roll-calls. He +looked at the bed of lobelias. How interesting! What else was there to +say? “One must be the son of some one,” remarked Stephen. And that was all he had to say. To him those names on the moistened paper were mere antiquities. He was neither proud of them nor ashamed. A man must have parents, or he cannot enter the delightful world. A man, if he has a brother, may reasonably visit him, for they may have interests in -common. He continued his narrative, how in the night he had heard the +common. He continued his narrative, —how in the night he had heard the clocks, how at daybreak, instead of entering the city, he had struck -eastward to save money,--while Ansell still looked at the house and +eastward to save money,—while Ansell still looked at the house and found that all his imagination and knowledge could lead him no farther than this: how interesting! -“--And what do you think of that for a holy horror?” +“—And what do you think of that for a holy horror?” “For a what?” said Ansell, his thoughts far away. @@ -8431,22 +8563,22 @@ who said I was a blot on God’s earth.” One o’clock struck. It was strange that neither of them had had any summons from the house. -“He said I ought to be ashamed of myself. He said, ‘I’ll not be the +“He said I ought to be ashamed of myself. He said, ‘_I_’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and lady.’ I told him not to be a fool. I said I knew what I was about. Rickie and Agnes are properly educated, which leads people to look at things straight, and not go screaming about blots. A man like me, with just a little reading -at odd hours--I’ve got so far, and Rickie has been through Cambridge.” +at odd hours—I’ve got so far, and Rickie has been through Cambridge.” “And Mrs. Elliot?” -“Oh, she won’t mind, and I told the man so; but he kept on saying, ‘I’ll -not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and lady,’ -until I got out of his rotten cart.” His eye watched the man a +“Oh, she won’t mind, and I told the man so; but he kept on saying, +‘_I_’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and +lady,’ until I got out of his rotten cart.” His eye watched the man, a Nonconformist, driving away over God’s earth. “I caught the train by -running. I got to Waterloo at--” +running. I got to Waterloo at—” -Here the parlour-maid fluttered towards them, Would Mr. Wonham come in? +Here the parlour-maid fluttered towards them. Would Mr. Wonham come in? Mrs. Elliot would be glad to see him now. “Mrs. Elliot?” cried Ansell. “Not Mr. Elliot?” @@ -8463,53 +8595,57 @@ gone upstairs. “All right, I can wait.” After all, Rickie was treating him as he had treated Rickie, as one in the grave, to whom it is futile to make any -loving motion. Gone upstairs--to brush his hair for dinner! The irony +loving motion. Gone upstairs—to brush his hair for dinner! The irony of the situation appealed to him strongly. It reminded him of the Greek Drama, where the actors know so little and the spectators so much. “But, by the bye,” he called after Stephen, “I think I ought to tell -you--don’t--” +you—don’t—” “What is it?” -“Don’t--” Then he was silent. He had been tempted to explain everything, -to tell the fellow how things stood, that he must avoid this if he -wanted to attain that; that he must break the news to Rickie gently; -that he must have at least one battle royal with Agnes. But it was -contrary to his own spirit to coach people: he held the human soul to -be a very delicate thing, which can receive eternal damage from a little -patronage. Stephen must go into the house simply as himself, for thus -alone would he remain there. +“Don’t—” Then he was silent. He had been tempted to explain +everything, to tell the fellow how things stood, that he must avoid +this if he wanted to attain that; that he must break the news to Rickie +gently; that he must have at least one battle royal with Agnes. But it +was contrary to his own spirit to coach people: he held the human soul +to be a very delicate thing, which can receive eternal damage from a +little patronage. Stephen must go into the house simply as himself, for +thus alone would he remain there. “I ought to knock my pipe out? Was that it?” “By no means. Go in, your pipe and you.” He hesitated, torn between propriety and desire. Then he followed the -parlour-maid into the house smoking. As he entered the dinner-bell rang, -and there was the sound of rushing feet, which died away into shuffling -and silence. Through the window of the boys’ dining-hall came the -colourless voice of Rickie--“‘Benedictus benedicat.’” +parlour-maid into the house smoking. As he entered the dinner-bell +rang, and there was the sound of rushing feet, which died away into +shuffling and silence. Through the window of the boys’ dining-hall came +the colourless voice of Rickie— + + “‘Benedictus benedicat.’” Ansell prepared himself to witness the second act of the drama; forgetting that all this world, and not part of it, is a stage. + XXVII + The parlour-maid took Mr. Wonham to the study. He had been in the drawing-room before, but had got bored, and so had strolled out into the garden. Now he was in better spirits, as a man ought to be who has knocked down a man. As he passed through the hall he sparred at the -teak monkey, and hung his cap on the bust of Hermes. And he greeted Mrs. -Elliot with a pleasant clap of laughter. “Oh, I’ve come with the most -tremendous news!” he cried. +teak monkey, and hung his cap on the bust of Hermes. And he greeted +Mrs. Elliot with a pleasant clap of laughter. “Oh, I’ve come with the +most tremendous news!” he cried. She bowed, but did not shake hands, which rather surprised him. But he never troubled over “details.” He seldom watched people, and never thought that they were watching him. Nor could he guess how much it meant to her that he should enter her presence smoking. Had she not -said once at Cadover, “Oh, please smoke; I love the smell of a pipe”? +said once at Cadover, “Oh, _please_ smoke; I love the smell of a pipe”? “Would you sit down? Exactly there, please.” She placed him at a large table, opposite an inkpot and a pad of blotting-paper. @@ -8535,28 +8671,28 @@ said.” “Yes?” “I’m illegitimate. Legally speaking, that is, I’ve been turned out of -Cadover. I haven’t a penny. I--” +Cadover. I haven’t a penny. I—” “There is no occasion to inflict the details.” Her face, which had been an even brown, began to flush slowly in the centre of the cheeks. The colour spread till all that he saw of her was suffused, and she turned away. He thought he had shocked her, and so did she. Neither knew that -the body can be insincere and express not the emotions we feel but those -that we should like to feel. In reality she was quite calm, and her -dislike of him had nothing emotional in it as yet. +the body can be insincere and express not the emotions we feel but +those that we should like to feel. In reality she was quite calm, and +her dislike of him had nothing emotional in it as yet. -“You see--” he began. He was determined to tell the fidgety story, for +“You see—” he began. He was determined to tell the fidgety story, for the sooner it was over the sooner they would have something to eat. Delicacy he lacked, and his sympathies were limited. But such as they were, they rang true: he put no decorous phantom between him and his desires. -“I do see. I have seen for two years.” She sat down at the head of the -table, where there was another ink-pot. Into this she dipped a pen. “I -have seen everything, Mr. Wonham--who you are, how you have behaved at -Cadover, how you must have treated Mrs. Failing yesterday; and now”--her -voice became very grave--“I see why you have come here, penniless. -Before you speak, we know what you will say.” +“I do see. I have seen for two years.” She sat down at the head of +the table, where there was another ink-pot. Into this she dipped a +pen. “I have seen everything, Mr. Wonham—who you are, how you have +behaved at Cadover, how you must have treated Mrs. Failing yesterday; +and now”—her voice became very grave—“I see why you have come here, +penniless. Before you speak, we know what you will say.” His mouth fell open, and he laughed so merrily that it might have given her a warning. But she was thinking how to follow up her first success. @@ -8565,36 +8701,36 @@ twisted it out of Mrs. Failing last night. And Rickie knows too?” “We have known for two years.” -“But come, by the bye,--if you’ve known for two years, how is it you -didn’t--” The laugh died out of his eyes. “You aren’t ashamed?” he +“But come, by the bye,—if you’ve known for two years, how is it you +didn’t—” The laugh died out of his eyes. “You aren’t ashamed?” he asked, half rising from his chair. “You aren’t like the man towards Andover?” -“Please, please sit down,” said Agnes, in the even tones she used -when speaking to the servants; “let us not discuss side issues. I am a +“Please, please sit down,” said Agnes, in the even tones she used when +speaking to the servants; “let us not discuss side issues. I am a horribly direct person, Mr. Wonham. I go always straight to the point.” - She opened a chequebook. “I am afraid I shall shock you. For how much?” +She opened a chequebook. “I am afraid I shall shock you. For how much?” He was not attending. -“There is the paper we suggest you shall sign.” She pushed towards him a -pseudo-legal document, just composed by Herbert. +“There is the paper we suggest you shall sign.” She pushed towards him +a pseudo-legal document, just composed by Herbert. -“In consideration of the sum of..., I agree to perpetual silence--to -restrain from libellous...never to molest the said Frederick Elliot by -intruding--’” +“In consideration of the sum of........., I agree to perpetual +silence—to restrain from libellous ... never to molest the said +Frederick Elliot by intruding—’” His brain was not quick. He read the document over twice, and he could still say, “But what’s that cheque for?” “It is my husband’s. He signed for you as soon as we heard you were -here. We guessed you had come to be silenced. Here is his signature. But -he has left the filling in for me. For how much? I will cross it, shall -I? You will just have started a banking account, if I understand Mrs. -Failing rightly. It is not quite accurate to say you are penniless: I -heard from her just before you returned from your cricket. She allows -you two hundred a-year, I think. But this additional sum--shall I date -the cheque Saturday or for tomorrow?” +here. We guessed you had come to be silenced. Here is his signature. +But he has left the filling in for me. For how much? I will cross it, +shall I? You will just have started a banking account, if I understand +Mrs. Failing rightly. It is not quite accurate to say you are +penniless: I heard from her just before you returned from your cricket. +She allows you two hundred a-year, I think. But this additional +sum—shall I date the cheque Saturday or for tomorrow?” At last he found words. Knocking his pipe out on the table, he said slowly, “Here’s a very bad mistake.” @@ -8603,13 +8739,13 @@ slowly, “Here’s a very bad mistake.” offensive, instead of waiting till he began his blackmailing, as had been the advice of Rickie. Aunt Emily had said that very spring, “One’s only hope with Stephen is to start bullying first.” Here he was, quite -bewildered, smearing the pipe-ashes with his thumb. He asked to read the -document again. “A stamp and all!” he remarked. +bewildered, smearing the pipe-ashes with his thumb. He asked to read +the document again. “A stamp and all!” he remarked. They had anticipated that his claim would exceed two pounds. -“I see. All right. It takes a fool a minute. Never mind. I’ve made a bad -mistake.” +“I see. All right. It takes a fool a minute. Never mind. I’ve made a +bad mistake.” “You refuse?” she exclaimed, for he was standing at the door. “Then do your worst! We defy you!” @@ -8618,27 +8754,28 @@ your worst! We defy you!” with you, nor yet with your husband. We’ll say no more about it. It’s all right. I mean no harm.” -“But your signature then! You must sign--you--” +“But your signature then! You must sign—you—” He pushed past her, and said as he reached for his cap, “There, that’s all right. It’s my mistake. I’m sorry.” He spoke like a farmer who has failed to sell a sheep. His manner was utterly prosaic, and up to the last she thought he had not understood her. “But it’s money we offer you,” she informed him, and then darted back to the study, believing -for one terrible moment that he had picked up the blank cheque. When she -returned to the hall he had gone. He was walking down the road rather -quickly. At the corner he cleared his throat, spat into the gutter, and -disappeared. - -“There’s an odd finish,” she thought. She was puzzled, and determined to -recast the interview a little when she related it to Rickie. She had -not succeeded, for the paper was still unsigned. But she had so cowed -Stephen that he would probably rest content with his two hundred a-year, -and never come troubling them again. Clever management, for one knew -him to be rapacious: she had heard tales of him lending to the poor -and exacting repayment to the uttermost farthing. He had also stolen at -school. Moderately triumphant, she hurried into the side-garden: she had -just remembered Ansell: she, not Rickie, had received his card. +for one terrible moment that he had picked up the blank cheque. When +she returned to the hall he had gone. He was walking down the road +rather quickly. At the corner he cleared his throat, spat into the +gutter, and disappeared. + +“There’s an odd finish,” she thought. She was puzzled, and determined +to recast the interview a little when she related it to Rickie. She +had not succeeded, for the paper was still unsigned. But she had so +cowed Stephen that he would probably rest content with his two hundred +a-year, and never come troubling them again. Clever management, for +one knew him to be rapacious: she had heard tales of him lending to +the poor and exacting repayment to the uttermost farthing. He had +also stolen at school. Moderately triumphant, she hurried into the +side-garden: she had just remembered Ansell: she, not Rickie, had +received his card. “Oh, Mr. Ansell!” she exclaimed, awaking him from some day-dream. “Haven’t either Rickie or Herbert been out to you? Now, do come into @@ -8649,8 +8786,8 @@ To her annoyance he accepted. “That is, if the Jacksons are not expecting you.” -The Jacksons did not matter. If he might brush his clothes and bathe his -lip, he would like to come. +The Jacksons did not matter. If he might brush his clothes and bathe +his lip, he would like to come. “Oh, what has happened to you? And oh, my pretty lobelias!” @@ -8660,22 +8797,22 @@ announce him. The dining-hall was not unlike the preparation room. There was the same parquet floor, and dado of shiny pitchpine. On its walls also -were imperial portraits, and over the harmonium to which they sang the -evening hymns was spread the Union Jack. Sunday dinner, the most pompous -meal of the week, was in progress. Her brother sat at the head of the -high table, her husband at the head of the second. To each he gave a -reassuring nod and went to her own seat, which was among the junior -boys. The beef was being carried out; she stopped it. “Mr. Ansell -is coming,” she called. “Herbert there is more room by you; sit up -straight, boys.” The boys sat up straight, and a respectful hush spread -over the room. +were imperial portraits, and over the harmonium to which they sang +the evening hymns was spread the Union Jack. Sunday dinner, the most +pompous meal of the week, was in progress. Her brother sat at the head +of the high table, her husband at the head of the second. To each she +gave a reassuring nod and went to her own seat, which was among the +junior boys. The beef was being carried out; she stopped it. “Mr. +Ansell is coming,” she called. “Herbert there is more room by you; sit +up straight, boys.” The boys sat up straight, and a respectful hush +spread over the room. “Here he is!” called Rickie cheerfully, taking his cue from his wife. -“Oh, this is splendid!” Ansell came in. “I’m so glad you managed this. -I couldn’t leave these wretches last night!” The boys tittered suitably. -The atmosphere seemed normal. Even Herbert, though longing to hear what -had happened to the blackmailer, gave adequate greeting to their guest: -“Come in, Mr. Ansell; come here. Take us as you find us!” +“Oh, this is splendid!” Ansell came in. “I’m so glad you managed +this. I couldn’t leave these wretches last night!” The boys tittered +suitably. The atmosphere seemed normal. Even Herbert, though longing to +hear what had happened to the blackmailer, gave adequate greeting to +their guest: “Come in, Mr. Ansell; come here. Take us as you find us!” “I understood,” said Stewart, “that I should find you all. Mrs. Elliot told me I should. On that understanding I came.” @@ -8683,7 +8820,7 @@ told me I should. On that understanding I came.” It was at once evident that something had gone wrong. Ansell looked round the room carefully. Then clearing his throat and -ruffling his hair, he began--“I cannot see the man with whom I have +ruffling his hair, he began—“I cannot see the man with whom I have talked, intimately, for an hour, in your garden.” The worst of it was they were all so far from him and from each other, @@ -8697,11 +8834,11 @@ in the midst of astonished waitresses. “Is he to be given no lunch?” Herbert broke the silence by fresh greetings. Rickie knew that the contest was lost, and that his friend had sided with the enemy. It was the kind of thing he would do. One must face the catastrophe quietly -and with dignity. Perhaps Ansell would have turned on his heel, and left -behind him only vague suspicions, if Mrs. Elliot had not tried to talk -him down. “Man,” she cried--“what man? Oh, I know--terrible bore! Did -he get hold of you?”--thus committing their first blunder, and causing -Ansell to say to Rickie, “Have you seen your brother?” +and with dignity. Perhaps Ansell would have turned on his heel, and +left behind him only vague suspicions, if Mrs. Elliot had not tried to +talk him down. “Man,” she cried—“what man? Oh, I know—terrible bore! +Did he get hold of you?”—thus committing their first blunder, and +causing Ansell to say to Rickie, “Have you seen your brother?” “I have not.” @@ -8714,55 +8851,55 @@ Rickie’s answer was inaudible. “Let us continue this conversation later.” “Continue it? My dear man, how can we until you know what I’m talking -about? You must think me mad; but I tell you solemnly that you have a -brother of whom you’ve never heard, and that he was in this house ten -minutes ago.” He paused impressively. “Your wife has happened to see -him first. Being neither serious nor truthful, she is keeping you apart, -telling him some lie and not telling you a word.” - -There was a murmur of alarm. One of the prefects rose, and Ansell set -his back to the wall, quite ready for a battle. For two years he had -waited for his opportunity. He would hit out at Mrs. Elliot like +about? You must think me mad; but I tell you solemnly that you have +a brother of whom you’ve never heard, and that he was in this house +ten minutes ago.” He paused impressively. “Your wife has happened to +see him first. Being neither serious nor truthful, she is keeping you +apart, telling him some lie and not telling you a word.” + +There was a murmur of alarm. One of the prefects rose, and Ansell +set his back to the wall, quite ready for a battle. For two years he +had waited for his opportunity. He would hit out at Mrs. Elliot like any ploughboy now that it had come. Rickie said: “There is a slight misunderstanding. I, like my wife, have known what there is to know for -two years”--a dignified rebuff, but their second blunder. +two years”—a dignified rebuff, but their second blunder. “Exactly,” said Agnes. “Now I think Mr. Ansell had better go.” “Go?” exploded Ansell. “I’ve everything to say yet. I beg your pardon, -Mrs. Elliot, I am concerned with you no longer. This man”--he turned -to the avenue of faces--“this man who teaches you has a brother. He has -known of him two years and been ashamed. He has--oh--oh--how it fits +Mrs. Elliot, I am concerned with you no longer. This man”—he turned +to the avenue of faces—“this man who teaches you has a brother. He +has known of him two years and been ashamed. He has—oh—oh—how it fits together! Rickie, it’s you, not Mrs. Silt, who must have sent tales of him to your aunt. It’s you who’ve turned him out of Cadover. It’s you -who’ve ordered him to be ruined today.” +who’ve ordered him to be ruined today. Mrs. Elliot, I beg your pardon.” -Now Herbert arose. “Out of my sight, sir! But have it from me first that -Rickie and his aunt have both behaved most generously. No, no, Agnes, -I’ll not be interrupted. Garbled versions must not get about. If the -Wonham man is not satisfied now, he must be insatiable. He cannot levy -blackmail on us for ever. Sir, I give you two minutes; then you will be -expelled by force.” +Now Herbert arose. “Out of my sight, sir! But have it from me first +that Rickie and his aunt have both behaved most generously. No, no, +Agnes, I’ll not be interrupted. Garbled versions must not get about. If +the Wonham man is not satisfied now, he must be insatiable. He cannot +levy blackmail on us for ever. Sir, I give you two minutes; then you +will be expelled by force.” “Two minutes!” sang Ansell. “I can say a great deal in that.” He put -one foot on a chair and held his arms over the quivering room. He seemed -transfigured into a Hebrew prophet passionate for satire and the truth. -“Oh, keep quiet for two minutes,” he cried, “and I’ll tell you something -you’ll be glad to hear. You’re a little afraid Stephen may come back. -Don’t be afraid. I bring good news. You’ll never see him nor any one -like him again. I must speak very plainly, for you are all three -fools. I don’t want you to say afterwards, ‘Poor Mr. Ansell tried to be -clever.’ Generally I don’t mind, but I should mind today. Please listen. -Stephen is a bully; he drinks; he knocks one down; but he would sooner -die than take money from people he did not love. Perhaps he will die, -for he has nothing but a few pence that the poor gave him and some +one foot on a chair and held his arms over the quivering room. He +seemed transfigured into a Hebrew prophet passionate for satire and the +truth. “Oh, keep quiet for two minutes,” he cried, “and I’ll tell you +something you’ll be glad to hear. You’re a little afraid Stephen may +come back. Don’t be afraid. I bring good news. You’ll never see him +nor any one like him again. I must speak very plainly, for you are all +three fools. I don’t want you to say afterwards, ‘Poor Mr. Ansell tried +to be clever.’ Generally I don’t mind, but I should mind today. Please +listen. Stephen is a bully; he drinks; he knocks one down; but he would +sooner die than take money from people he did not love. Perhaps he will +die, for he has nothing but a few pence that the poor gave him and some tobacco which, to my eternal glory, he accepted from me. Please listen again. Why did he come here? Because he thought you would love him, and was ready to love you. But I tell you, don’t be afraid. He would sooner -die now than say you were his brother. Please listen again--” +die now than say you were his brother. Please listen again—” -“Now, Stewart, don’t go on like that,” said Rickie bitterly. “It’s easy -enough to preach when you are an outsider. You would be more +“Now, Stewart, don’t go on like that,” said Rickie bitterly. “It’s +easy enough to preach when you are an outsider. You would be more charitable if such a thing had happened to yourself. Easy enough to be unconventional when you haven’t suffered and know nothing of the facts. You love anything out of the way, anything queer, that doesn’t often @@ -8770,20 +8907,20 @@ happen, and so you get excited over this. It’s useless, my dear man; you have hurt me, but you will never upset me. As soon as you stop this ridiculous scene we will finish our dinner. Spread this scandal; add to it. I’m too old to mind such nonsense. I cannot help my father’s -disgrace, on the one hand; nor, on the other, will I have anything to do -with his blackguard of a son.” +disgrace, on the one hand; nor, on the other, will I have anything to +do with his blackguard of a son.” So the secret was given to the world. Agnes might colour at his speech; Herbert might calculate the effect of it on the entries for Dunwood -House; but he cared for none of these things. Thank God! he was withered -up at last. +House; but he cared for none of these things. Thank God! he was +withered up at last. “Please listen again,” resumed Ansell. “Please correct two slight mistakes: firstly, Stephen is one of the greatest people I have ever met; secondly, he’s not your father’s son. He’s the son of your mother.” It was Rickie, not Ansell, who was carried from the hall, and it was -Herbert who pronounced the blessing-- +Herbert who pronounced the blessing— “Benedicto benedicatur.” @@ -8793,8 +8930,10 @@ the letters they were writing home. + XXVIII + The soul has her own currency. She mints her spiritual coinage and stamps it with the image of some beloved face. With it she pays her debts, with it she reckons, saying, “This man has worth, this man is @@ -8802,17 +8941,18 @@ worthless.” And in time she forgets its origin; it seems to her to be a thing unalterable, divine. But the soul can also have her bankruptcies. Perhaps she will be the richer in the end. In her agony she learns to -reckon clearly. Fair as the coin may have been, it was not accurate; and -though she knew it not, there were treasures that it could not buy. The -face, however beloved, was mortal, and as liable as the soul herself to -err. We do but shift responsibility by making a standard of the dead. - -There is, indeed, another coinage that bears on it not man’s image but -God’s. It is incorruptible, and the soul may trust it safely; it will -serve her beyond the stars. But it cannot give us friends, or the -embrace of a lover, or the touch of children, for with our fellow -mortals it has no concern. It cannot even give the joys we call -trivial--fine weather, the pleasures of meat and drink, bathing and the +reckon clearly. Fair as the coin may have been, it was not accurate; +and though she knew it not, there were treasures that it could not +buy. The face, however beloved, was mortal, and as liable as the soul +herself to err. We do but shift responsibility by making a standard of +the dead. + +There is, indeed, another coinage that bears on it not man’s image +but God’s. It is incorruptible, and the soul may trust it safely; +it will serve her beyond the stars. But it cannot give us friends, +or the embrace of a lover, or the touch of children, for with our +fellow mortals it has no concern. It cannot even give the joys we call +trivial—fine weather, the pleasures of meat and drink, bathing and the hot sand afterwards, running, dreamless sleep. Have we learnt the true discipline of a bankruptcy if we turn to such coinage as this? Will it really profit us so much if we save our souls and lose the whole world? @@ -8820,62 +8960,63 @@ really profit us so much if we save our souls and lose the whole world? -PART 3 -- WILTSHIRE +PART 3 — WILTSHIRE XXIX -Robert--there is no occasion to mention his surname: he was a young + +Robert—there is no occasion to mention his surname: he was a young farmer of some education who tried to coax the aged soil of Wiltshire -scientifically--came to Cadover on business and fell in love with Mrs. +scientifically—came to Cadover on business and fell in love with Mrs. Elliot. She was there on her bridal visit, and he, an obscure nobody, was received by Mrs. Failing into the house and treated as her social equal. He was good-looking in a bucolic way, and people sometimes mistook him for a gentleman until they saw his hands. He discovered this, and one of the slow, gentle jokes he played on society was to -talk upon some cultured subject with his hands behind his back and then -suddenly reveal them. “Do you go in for boating?” the lady would ask; -and then he explained that those particular weals are made by the +talk upon some cultured subject with his hands behind his back and +then suddenly reveal them. “Do you go in for boating?” the lady would +ask; and then he explained that those particular weals are made by the handles of the plough. Upon which she became extremely interested, but found an early opportunity of talking to some one else. He played this joke on Mrs. Elliot the first evening, not knowing that -she observed him as he entered the room. He walked heavily, lifting his -feet as if the carpet was furrowed, and he had no evening clothes. Every -one tried to put him at his ease, but she rather suspected that he was -there already, and envied him. They were introduced, and spoke of Byron, -who was still fashionable. Out came his hands--the only rough hands in -the drawing-room, the only hands that had ever worked. She was filled -with some strange approval, and liked him. +she observed him as he entered the room. He walked heavily, lifting +his feet as if the carpet was furrowed, and he had no evening clothes. +Every one tried to put him at his ease, but she rather suspected that +he was there already, and envied him. They were introduced, and spoke +of Byron, who was still fashionable. Out came his hands—the only rough +hands in the drawing-room, the only hands that had ever worked. She was +filled with some strange approval, and liked him. After dinner they met again, to speak not of Byron but of manure. The other people were so clever and so amusing that it relieved her to listen to a man who told her three times not to buy artificial manure ready made, but, if she would use it, to make it herself at the last -moment. Because the ammonia evaporated. Here were two packets of powder. -Did they smell? No. Mix them together and pour some coffee--An appalling -smell at once burst forth, and every one began to cough and cry. This -was good for the earth when she felt sour, for he knew when the earth -was ill. He knew, too, when she was hungry he spoke of her tantrums--the -strange unscientific element in her that will baffle the scientist to -the end of time. “Study away, Mrs. Elliot,” he told her; “read all the -books you can get hold of; but when it comes to the point, stroll out -with a pipe in your mouth and do a bit of guessing.” As he talked, the -earth became a living being--or rather a being with a living skin,--and -manure no longer dirty stuff, but a symbol of regeneration and of the -birth of life from life. “So it goes on for ever!” she cried excitedly. -He replied: “Not for ever. In time the fire at the centre will cool, and -nothing can go on then.” +moment. Because the ammonia evaporated. Here were two packets of +powder. Did they smell? No. Mix them together and pour some coffee—An +appalling smell at once burst forth, and every one began to cough and +cry. This was good for the earth when she felt sour, for he knew when +the earth was ill. He knew, too, when she was hungry: he spoke of her +tantrums—the strange unscientific element in her that will baffle +the scientist to the end of time. “Study away, Mrs. Elliot,” he told +her; “read all the books you can get hold of; but when it comes to the +point, stroll out with a pipe in your mouth and do a bit of guessing.” +As he talked, the earth became a living being—or rather a being with +a living skin,—and manure no longer dirty stuff, but a symbol of +regeneration and of the birth of life from life. “So it goes on for +ever!” she cried excitedly. He replied: “Not for ever. In time the fire +at the centre will cool, and nothing can go on then.” He advanced into love with open eyes, slowly, heavily, just as he had -advanced across the drawing room carpet. But this time the bride did not -observe his tread. She was listening to her husband, and trying not to -be so stupid. When he was close to her--so close that it was difficult -not to take her in his arms--he spoke to Mr. Failing, and was at once -turned out of Cadover. +advanced across the drawing room carpet. But this time the bride did +not observe his tread. She was listening to her husband, and trying +not to be so stupid. When he was close to her—so close that it was +difficult not to take her in his arms—he spoke to Mr. Failing, and was +at once turned out of Cadover. -“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Failing, as he walked down the drive with his hand -on his guest’s shoulder. “I had no notion you were that sort. Any one -who behaves like that has to stop at the farm.” +“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Failing, as he walked down the drive with his +hand on his guest’s shoulder. “I had no notion you were that sort. Any +one who behaves like that has to stop at the farm.” “Any one?” @@ -8885,15 +9026,15 @@ this man was more civilized than most. “Are you angry with me, sir?” He called him “sir,” not because he was richer or cleverer or smarter, not because he had helped to educate him -and had lent him money, but for a reason more profound--for the reason +and had lent him money, but for a reason more profound—for the reason that there are gradations in heaven. -“I did think you--that a man like you wouldn’t risk making people -unhappy. My sister-in-law--I don’t say this to stop you loving her; -something else must do that--my sister-in-law, as far as I know, doesn’t -care for you one little bit. If you had said anything, if she had -guessed that a chance person was in--this fearful state, you would -simply--have opened hell. A woman of her sort would have lost all--” +“I did think you—that a man like you wouldn’t risk making people +unhappy. My sister-in-law—I don’t say this to stop you loving her; +something else must do that—my sister-in-law, as far as I know, +doesn’t care for you one little bit. If you had said anything, if she +had guessed that a chance person was in—this fearful state, you would +simply—have opened hell. A woman of her sort would have lost all—” “I knew that.” @@ -8901,24 +9042,26 @@ Mr. Failing removed his hand. He was displeased. “But something here,” said Robert incoherently. “This here.” He struck himself heavily on the heart. “This here, doing something so unusual, -makes it not matter what she loses--I--” After a silence he asked, “Have -I quite followed you, sir, in that business of the brotherhood of man?” +makes it not matter what she loses—I—” After a silence he asked, +“Have I quite followed you, sir, in that business of the brotherhood of +man?” “How do you mean?” “I thought love was to bring it about.” “Love of another man’s wife? Sensual love? You have understood -nothing--nothing.” Then he was ashamed, and cried, “I understand nothing -myself.” For he remembered that sensual and spiritual are not easy words -to use; that there are, perhaps, not two Aphrodites, but one Aphrodite -with a Janus face. “I only understand that you must try to forget her.” +nothing—nothing.” Then he was ashamed, and cried, “I understand +nothing myself.” For he remembered that sensual and spiritual are not +easy words to use; that there are, perhaps, not two Aphrodites, but one +Aphrodite with a Janus face. “I only understand that you must try to +forget her.” “I will not try.” -“Promise me just this, then--not to do anything crooked.” +“Promise me just this, then—not to do anything crooked.” -“I’m straight. No boasting, but I couldn’t do a crooked thing--No, not +“I’m straight. No boasting, but I couldn’t do a crooked thing—no, not if I tried.” And so appallingly straight was he in after years, that Mr. Failing @@ -8928,57 +9071,57 @@ Robert simply waited. He told himself that it was hopeless; but something deeper than himself declared that there was hope. He gave up drink, and kept himself in all ways clean, for he wanted to be worthy of her when the time came. Women seemed fond of him, and caused him to -reflect with pleasure, “They do run after me. There must be something in -me. Good. I’d be done for if there wasn’t.” For six years he turned up -the earth of Wiltshire, and read books for the sake of his mind, and -talked to gentlemen for the sake of their patois, and each year he rode -to Cadover to take off his hat to Mrs. Elliot, and, perhaps, to speak -to her about the crops. Mr. Failing was generally present, and it struck -neither man that those dull little visits were so many words out of -which a lonely woman might build sentences. Then Robert went to London -on business. He chanced to see Mr. Elliot with a strange lady. The time -had come. +reflect with pleasure, “They do run after me. There must be something +in me. Good. I’d be done for if there wasn’t.” For six years he turned +up the earth of Wiltshire, and read books for the sake of his mind, +and talked to gentlemen for the sake of their patois, and each year he +rode to Cadover to take off his hat to Mrs. Elliot, and, perhaps, to +speak to her about the crops. Mr. Failing was generally present, and +it struck neither man that those dull little visits were so many words +out of which a lonely woman might build sentences. Then Robert went to +London on business. He chanced to see Mr. Elliot with a strange lady. +The time had come. He became diplomatic, and called at Mr. Elliot’s rooms to find things out. For if Mrs. Elliot was happier than he could ever make her, he -would withdraw, and love her in renunciation. But if he could make her -happier, he would love her in fulfilment. Mr. Elliot admitted him as a -friend of his brother-in-law’s, and felt very broad-minded as he did -so. Robert, however, was a success. The youngish men there found him -interesting, and liked to shock him with tales of naughty London and -naughtier Paris. They spoke of “experience” and “sensations” and “seeing -life,” and when a smile ploughed over his face, concluded that his -prudery was vanquished. He saw that they were much less vicious than -they supposed: one boy had obviously read his sensations in a book. But -he could pardon vice. What he could not pardon was triviality, and he -hoped that no decent woman could pardon it either. There grew up in him -a cold, steady anger against these silly people who thought it advanced -to be shocking, and who described, as something particularly choice and -educational, things that he had understood and fought against for years. -He inquired after Mrs. Elliot, and a boy tittered. It seemed that she -“did not know,” that she lived in a remote suburb, taking care of a -skinny baby. “I shall call some time or other,” said Robert. “Do,” said -Mr. Elliot, smiling. And next time he saw his wife he congratulated her -on her rustic admirer. +would withdraw, and love her in renunciation. But if he could make +her happier, he would love her in fulfilment. Mr. Elliot admitted him +as a friend of his brother-in-law’s, and felt very broad-minded as he +did so. Robert, however, was a success. The youngish men there found +him interesting, and liked to shock him with tales of naughty London +and naughtier Paris. They spoke of “experience” and “sensations” and +“seeing life,” and when a smile ploughed over his face, concluded +that his prudery was vanquished. He saw that they were much less +vicious than they supposed: one boy had obviously read his sensations +in a book. But he could pardon vice. What he could not pardon was +triviality, and he hoped that no decent woman could pardon it either. +There grew up in him a cold, steady anger against these silly people +who thought it advanced to be shocking, and who described, as something +particularly choice and educational, things that he had understood +and fought against for years. He inquired after Mrs. Elliot, and a +boy tittered. It seemed that she “did not know,” that she lived in a +remote suburb, taking care of a skinny baby. “I shall call some time or +other,” said Robert. “Do,” said Mr. Elliot, smiling. And next time he +saw his wife he congratulated her on her rustic admirer. She had suffered terribly. She had asked for bread, and had been given -not even a stone. People talk of hungering for the ideal, but there is -another hunger, quite as divine, for facts. She had asked for facts -and had been given “views,” “emotional standpoints,” “attitudes towards -life.” To a woman who believed that facts are beautiful, that the living -world is beautiful beyond the laws of beauty, that manure is neither -gross nor ludicrous, that a fire, not eternal, glows at the heart of -the earth, it was intolerable to be put off with what the Elliots called -“philosophy,” and, if she refused, to be told that she had no sense of -humour. “Tarrying into the Elliot family.” It had sounded so splendid, -for she was a penniless child with nothing to offer, and the Elliots -held their heads high. For what reason? What had they ever done, except -say sarcastic things, and limp, and be refined? Mr. Failing suffered -too, but she suffered more, inasmuch as Frederick was more impossible -than Emily. He did not like her, he practically lived apart, he was not -even faithful or polite. These were grave faults, but they were human -ones: she could even imagine them in a man she loved. What she could -never love was a dilettante. +not even a stone. People talk of hungering for the ideal, but there +is another hunger, quite as divine, for facts. She had asked for +facts and had been given “views,” “emotional standpoints,” “attitudes +towards life.” To a woman who believed that facts are beautiful, that +the living world is beautiful beyond the laws of beauty, that manure +is neither gross nor ludicrous, that a fire, not eternal, glows at +the heart of the earth, it was intolerable to be put off with what +the Elliots called “philosophy,” and, if she refused, to be told that +she had no sense of humour. “Marrying into the Elliot family.” It had +sounded so splendid, for she was a penniless child with nothing to +offer, and the Elliots held their heads high. For what reason? What had +they ever done, except say sarcastic things, and limp, and be refined? +Mr. Failing suffered too, but she suffered more, inasmuch as Frederick +was more impossible than Emily. He did not like her, he practically +lived apart, he was not even faithful or polite. These were grave +faults, but they were human ones: she could even imagine them in a man +she loved. What she could never love was a dilettante. Robert brought her an armful of sweet-peas. He laid it on the table, put his hands behind his back, and kept them there till the end of the @@ -8987,18 +9130,18 @@ that he would fail, she loved him too much to snub him or to stare in virtuous indignation. “Why have you come?” she asked gravely, “and why have you brought me so many flowers?” -“My garden is full of them,” he answered. “Sweetpeas need picking down. +“My garden is full of them,” he answered. “Sweet-peas need picking down. And, generally speaking, flowers are plentiful in July.” -She broke his present into bunches--so much for the drawing-room, so +She broke his present into bunches—so much for the drawing-room, so much for the nursery, so much for the kitchen and her husband’s room: he would be down for the night. The most beautiful she would keep for -herself. Presently he said, “Your husband is no good. I’ve watched him -for a week. I’m thirty, and not what you call hasty, as I used to be, -or thinking that nothing matters like the French. No. I’m a plain -Britisher, yet--I--I’ve begun wrong end, Mrs. Elliot; I should have said -that I’ve thought chiefly of you for six years, and that though I talk -here so respectfully, if I once unhooked my hands--” +herself. Presently he said, “Your husband is no good. I’ve watched +him for a week. I’m thirty, and not what you call hasty, as I used to +be, or thinking that nothing matters like the French. No. I’m a plain +Britisher, yet—I—I’ve begun wrong end, Mrs. Elliot; I should have +said that I’ve thought chiefly of you for six years, and that though I +talk here so respectfully, if I once unhooked my hands—” There was a pause. Then she said with great sweetness, “Thank you; I am glad you love me,” and rang the bell. @@ -9010,62 +9153,63 @@ glad you love me,” and rang the bell. “I don’t go alone,” and he began to get furious. Her voice was still sweet, but strength lay in it too, as she said, -“You either go now with my thanks and blessing, or else you go with -the police. I am Mrs. Elliot. We need not discuss Mr. Elliot. I am Mrs. +“You either go now with my thanks and blessing, or else you go with the +police. I am Mrs. Elliot. We need not discuss Mr. Elliot. I am Mrs. Elliot, and if you make one step towards me I give you in charge.” -But the maid answered the bell not of the drawing-room, but of the front -door. They were joined by Mr. Elliot, who held out his hand with much -urbanity. It was not taken. He looked quickly at his wife, and said, “Am -I de trop?” There was a long silence. At last she said, “Frederick, turn -this man out.” +But the maid answered the bell not of the drawing-room, but of the +front door. They were joined by Mr. Elliot, who held out his hand with +much urbanity. It was not taken. He looked quickly at his wife, and +said, “Am I _de trop_?” There was a long silence. At last she said, +“Frederick, turn this man out.” “My love, why?” Robert said that he loved her. -“Then I am de trop,” said Mr. Elliot, smoothing out his gloves. He would -give these sodden barbarians a lesson. “My hansom is waiting at the -door. Pray make use of it.” +“Then I am _de trop_,” said Mr. Elliot, smoothing out his gloves. He +would give these sodden barbarians a lesson. “My hansom is waiting at +the door. Pray make use of it.” “Don’t!” she cried, almost affectionately. “Dear Frederick, it isn’t a play. Just tell this man to go, or send for the police.” -“On the contrary; it is French comedy of the best type. Don’t you agree, -sir, that the police would be an inartistic error?” He was perfectly -calm and collected, whereas they were in a pitiable state. +“On the contrary; it is French comedy of the best type. Don’t you +agree, sir, that the police would be an inartistic error?” He was +perfectly calm and collected, whereas they were in a pitiable state. -“Turn him out at once!” she cried. “He has insulted your wife. Save me, -save me!” She clung to her husband and wept. “He was going I had managed -him--he would never have known--” Mr. Elliot repulsed her. +“Turn him out at once!” she cried. “He has insulted your wife. Save +me, save me!” She clung to her husband and wept. “He was going—I had +managed him—he would never have known—” Mr. Elliot repulsed her. “If you don’t feel inclined to start at once,” he said with easy -civility, “Let us have a little tea. My dear sir, do forgive me for not -shooting you. Nous avons change tout cela. Please don’t look so nervous. -Please do unclasp your hands--” +civility, “let us have a little tea. My dear sir, do forgive me for +not shooting you. _Nous avons changé tout cela_. Please don’t look so +nervous. Please do unclasp your hands—” He was alone. “That’s all right,” he exclaimed, and strolled to the door. The hansom was disappearing round the corner. “That’s all right,” he repeated in more quavering tones as he returned to the drawing-room and saw that it -was littered with sweet-peas. Their colour got on his nerves--magenta, +was littered with sweet-peas. Their colour got on his nerves—magenta, crimson; magenta, crimson. He tried to pick them up, and they escaped. He trod them underfoot, and they multiplied and danced in the triumph -of summer like a thousand butterflies. The train had left when he got to -the station. He followed on to London, and there he lost all traces. +of summer like a thousand butterflies. The train had left when he got +to the station. He followed on to London, and there he lost all traces. At midnight he began to realize that his wife could never belong to him again. -Mr. Failing had a letter from Stockholm. It was never known what impulse -sent them there. “I am sorry about it all, but it was the only way.” - The letter censured the law of England, “which obliges us to behave like -this, or else we should never get married. I shall come back to face -things: she will not come back till she is my wife. He must bring an -action soon, or else we shall try one against him. It seems all very -unconventional, but it is not really, it is only a difficult start. We -are not like you or your wife: we want to be just ordinary people, and -make the farm pay, and not be noticed all our lives.” +Mr. Failing had a letter from Stockholm. It was never known what +impulse sent them there. “I am sorry about it all, but it was the only +way.” The letter censured the law of England, “which obliges us to +behave like this, or else we should never get married. I shall come +back to face things: she will not come back till she is my wife. He +must bring an action soon, or else we shall try one against him. It +seems all very unconventional, but it is not really, it is only a +difficult start. We are not like you or your wife: we want to be just +ordinary people, and make the farm pay, and not be noticed all our +lives.” And they were capable of living as they wanted. The class difference, which so intrigued Mrs. Failing, meant very little to them. It was @@ -9076,15 +9220,17 @@ unless they had got something to say. Their love of beauty, like their love for each other, was not dependent on detail: it grew not from the nerves but from the soul. -“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars +“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the + stars, And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of -the wren, And the tree toad is a chef-d’oeuvre for the highest, And the -running blackberry would adorn the parlours of heaven.” + the wren, +And the tree toad is a chef-d’oeuvre for the highest, +And the running blackberry would adorn the parlours of heaven.” -They had never read these lines, and would have thought them nonsense if -they had. They did not dissect--indeed they could not. But she, at all -events, divined that more than perfect health and perfect weather, more -than personal love, had gone to the making of those seventeen days. +They had never read these lines, and would have thought them nonsense +if they had. They did not dissect—indeed they could not. But she, at +all events, divined that more than perfect health and perfect weather, +more than personal love, had gone to the making of those seventeen days. “Ordinary people!” cried Mrs. Failing on hearing the letter. At that time she was young and daring. “Why, they’re divine! They’re forces of @@ -9096,27 +9242,27 @@ they are guiltless in the sight of God.” “I think they are,” replied her husband. “But they are not guiltless in the sight of man.” -“You conventional!” she exclaimed in disgust. “What they have done means -misery not only for themselves but for others. For your brother, though -you will not think of him. For the little boy--did you think of him? And -perhaps for another child, who will have the whole world against him if -it knows. They have sinned against society, and you do not diminish -the misery by proving that society is bad or foolish. It is the saddest -truth I have yet perceived that the Beloved Republic”--here she took up -a book--“of which Swinburne speaks”--she put the book down--“will not -be brought about by love alone. It will approach with no flourish -of trumpets, and have no declaration of independence. Self-sacrifice -and--worse still--self-mutilation are the things that sometimes help it -most, and that is why we should start for Stockholm this evening.” He -waited for her indignation to subside, and then continued. “I don’t know -whether it can be hushed up. I don’t yet know whether it ought to be -hushed up. But we ought to provide the opportunity. There is no scandal -yet. If we go, it is just possible there never will be any. We must talk -over the whole thing and--” - -“--And lie!” interrupted Mrs. Failing, who hated travel. - -“--And see how to avoid the greatest unhappiness.” +“You conventional!” she exclaimed in disgust. “What they have done +means misery not only for themselves but for others. For your brother, +though you will not think of him. For the little boy—did you think +of him? And perhaps for another child, who will have the whole world +against him if it knows. They have sinned against society, and you do +not diminish the misery by proving that society is bad or foolish. +It is the saddest truth I have yet perceived that the Beloved +Republic”—here she took up a book—“of which Swinburne speaks”—she +put the book down—“will not be brought about by love alone. It will +approach with no flourish of trumpets, and have no declaration of +independence. Self-sacrifice and—worse still—self-mutilation are the +things that sometimes help it most, and that is why we should start +for Stockholm this evening.” He waited for her indignation to subside, +and then continued. “I don’t know whether it can be hushed up. I don’t +yet know whether it ought to be hushed up. But we ought to provide the +opportunity. There is no scandal yet. If we go, it is just possible +there never will be any. We must talk over the whole thing and—” + +“—And lie!” interrupted Mrs. Failing, who hated travel. + +“—And see how to avoid the greatest unhappiness.” There was to be no scandal. By the time they arrived Robert had been drowned. Mrs. Elliot described how they had gone swimming, and how, @@ -9131,92 +9277,95 @@ For he would only have drowned me with him. I should have done the same.” Mrs. Failing was thrilled, and kissed her. But Mr. Failing knew that -life does not continue heroic for long, and he gave her the message from -her husband: Would she come back to him? +life does not continue heroic for long, and he gave her the message +from her husband: Would she come back to him? -To his intense astonishment--at first to his regret--she replied, “I +To his intense astonishment—at first to his regret—she replied, “I will think about it. If I loved him the very least bit I should say no. If I had anything to do with my life I should say no. But it is simply -a question of beating time till I die. Nothing that is coming matters. I -may as well sit in his drawing-room and dust his furniture, since he has -suggested it.” - -And Mr. Elliot, though he made certain stipulations, was positively glad -to see her. People had begun to laugh at him, and to say that his wife -had run away. She had not. She had been with his sister in Sweden. In -a half miraculous way the matter was hushed up. Even the Silts only +a question of beating time till I die. Nothing that is coming matters. +I may as well sit in his drawing-room and dust his furniture, since he +has suggested it.” + +And Mr. Elliot, though he made certain stipulations, was positively +glad to see her. People had begun to laugh at him, and to say that his +wife had run away. She had not. She had been with his sister in Sweden. +In a half miraculous way the matter was hushed up. Even the Silts only scented “something strange.” When Stephen was born, it was abroad. When he came to England, it was as the child of a friend of Mr. Failing’s. Mrs. Elliot returned unsuspected to her husband. But though things can be hushed up, there is no such thing as beating time; and as the years passed she realized her terrible mistake. When -her lover sank, eluding her last embrace, she thought, as Agnes was to -think after her, that her soul had sunk with him, and that never again -should she be capable of earthly love. Nothing mattered. She might as -well go and be useful to her husband and to the little boy who looked -exactly like him, and who, she thought, was exactly like him in -disposition. Then Stephen was born, and altered her life. She could -still love people passionately; she still drew strength from the heroic -past. Yet, to keep to her bond, she must see this son only as a -stranger. She was protected be the conventions, and must pay them their -fee. And a curious thing happened. Her second child drew her towards her -first. She began to love Rickie also, and to be more than useful to him. -And as her love revived, so did her capacity for suffering. Life, more -important, grew more bitter. She minded her husband more, not less; and -when at last he died, and she saw a glorious autumn, beautiful with the -voices of boys who should call her mother, the end came for her as well, -before she could remember the grave in the alien north and the dust that -would never return to the dear fields that had given it. +her lover sank, eluding her last embrace, she thought, as Agnes was +to think after her, that her soul had sunk with him, and that never +again should she be capable of earthly love. Nothing mattered. She +might as well go and be useful to her husband and to the little boy +who looked exactly like him, and who, she thought, was exactly like +him in disposition. Then Stephen was born, and altered her life. She +could still love people passionately; she still drew strength from the +heroic past. Yet, to keep to her bond, she must see this son only as a +stranger. She was protected by the conventions, and must pay them their +fee. And a curious thing happened. Her second child drew her towards +her first. She began to love Rickie also, and to be more than useful +to him. And as her love revived, so did her capacity for suffering. +Life, more important, grew more bitter. She minded her husband more, +not less; and when at last he died, and she saw a glorious autumn, +beautiful with the voices of boys who should call her mother, the end +came for her as well, before she could remember the grave in the alien +north and the dust that would never return to the dear fields that had +given it. + XXX + Stephen, the son of these people, had one instinct that troubled him. -At night--especially out of doors--it seemed rather strange that he was -alive. The dry grass pricked his cheek, the fields were invisible and -mute, and here was he, throwing stones at the darkness or smoking a -pipe. The stones vanished, the pipe would burn out. But he would be here -in the morning when the sun rose, and he would bathe, and run in the -mist. He was proud of his good circulation, and in the morning it seemed -quite natural. But at night, why should there be this difference between -him and the acres of land that cooled all round him until the sun -returned? What lucky chance had heated him up, and sent him, warm and -lovable, into a passive world? He had other instincts, but these gave -him no trouble. He simply gratified each as it occurred, provided he -could do so without grave injury to his fellows. But the instinct to +At night—especially out of doors—it seemed rather strange that he +was alive. The dry grass pricked his cheek, the fields were invisible +and mute, and here was he, throwing stones at the darkness or smoking +a pipe. The stones vanished, the pipe would burn out. But he would be +here in the morning when the sun rose, and he would bathe, and run in +the mist. He was proud of his good circulation, and in the morning it +seemed quite natural. But at night, why should there be this difference +between him and the acres of land that cooled all round him until the +sun returned? What lucky chance had heated him up, and sent him, warm +and lovable, into a passive world? He had other instincts, but these +gave him no trouble. He simply gratified each as it occurred, provided +he could do so without grave injury to his fellows. But the instinct to wonder at the night was not to be thus appeased. At first he had lived -under the care of Mr. Failing the only person to whom his mother spoke -freely, the only person who had treated her neither as a criminal nor as -a pioneer. In their rare but intimate conversations she had asked him to -educate her son. “I will teach him Latin,” he answered. “The rest such -a boy must remember.” Latin, at all events, was a failure: who could -attend to Virgil when the sound of the thresher arose, and you knew -that the stack was decreasing and that rats rushed more plentifully each -moment to their doom? But he was fond of Mr. Failing, and cried when he -died. Mrs. Elliot, a pleasant woman, died soon after. - -There was something fatal in the order of these deaths. Mr. Failing had -made no provision for the boy in his will: his wife had promised to -see to this. Then came Mr. Elliot’s death, and, before the new home +under the care of Mr. Failing—the only person to whom his mother spoke +freely, the only person who had treated her neither as a criminal nor +as a pioneer. In their rare but intimate conversations she had asked +him to educate her son. “I will teach him Latin,” he answered. “The +rest such a boy must remember.” Latin, at all events, was a failure: +who could attend to Virgil when the sound of the thresher arose, and +you knew that the stack was decreasing and that rats rushed more +plentifully each moment to their doom? But he was fond of Mr. Failing, +and cried when he died. Mrs. Elliot, a pleasant woman, died soon after. + +There was something fatal in the order of these deaths. Mr. Failing +had made no provision for the boy in his will: his wife had promised +to see to this. Then came Mr. Elliot’s death, and, before the new home was created, the sudden death of Mrs. Elliot. She also left Stephen no money: she had none to leave. Chance threw him into the power of Mrs. Failing. “Let things go on as they are,” she thought. “I will take care of this pretty little boy, and the ugly little boy can live with the -Silts. After my death--well, the papers will be found after my death, -and they can meet then. I like the idea of their mutual ignorance. It is -amusing.” +Silts. After my death—well, the papers will be found after my death, +and they can meet then. I like the idea of their mutual ignorance. It +is amusing.” He was then twelve. With a few brief intervals of school, he lived in -Wiltshire until he was driven out. Life had two distinct sides--the +Wiltshire until he was driven out. Life had two distinct sides—the drawing-room and the other. In the drawing-room people talked a good deal, laughing as they talked. Being clever, they did not care for animals: one man had never seen a hedgehog. In the other life people talked and laughed separately, or even did neither. On the whole, in spite of the wet and gamekeepers, this life was preferable. He knew where he was. He glanced at the boy, or later at the man, and behaved -accordingly. There was no law--the policeman was negligible. Nothing +accordingly. There was no law—the policeman was negligible. Nothing bound him but his own word, and he gave that sparingly. It is impossible to be romantic when you have your heart’s desire, and @@ -9230,57 +9379,58 @@ yearning. As it was, he only rode her horses, and trespassed, and bathed, and worked, for no obvious reason, upon her fields. Affection she did not believe in, and made no attempt to mould him; and he, for his part, was very content to harden untouched into a man. His parents -had given him excellent gifts--health, sturdy limbs, and a face not -ugly,--gifts that his habits confirmed. They had also given him a -cloudless spirit--the spirit of the seventeen days in which he was -created. But they had not given him the spirit of their sit years of +had given him excellent gifts—health, sturdy limbs, and a face not +ugly,—gifts that his habits confirmed. They had also given him a +cloudless spirit—the spirit of the seventeen days in which he was +created. But they had not given him the spirit of their six years of waiting, and love for one person was never to be the greatest thing he knew. -“Philosophy” had postponed the quarrel between them. Incurious about his -personal origin, he had a certain interest in our eternal problems. The -interest never became a passion: it sprang out of his physical growth, -and was soon merged in it again. Or, as he put it himself, “I must get -fixed up before starting.” He was soon fixed up as a materialist. Then -he tore up the sixpenny reprints, and never amused Mrs. Failing so much -again. - -About the time he fixed himself up, he took to drink. He knew of no -reason against it. The instinct was in him, and it hurt nobody. Here, as -elsewhere, his motions were decided, and he passed at once from roaring -jollity to silence. For those who live on the fuddled borderland, who -crawl home by the railings and maunder repentance in the morning, he had -a biting contempt. A man must take his tumble and his headache. He was, -in fact, as little disgusting as is conceivable; and hitherto he had not -strained his constitution or his will. Nor did he get drunk as often as -Agnes suggested. The real quarrel gathered elsewhere. - - -Presentable people have run wild in their youth. But the hour comes when -they turn from their boorish company to higher things. This hour never -came for Stephen. Somewhat a bully by nature, he kept where his powers -would tell, and continued to quarrel and play with the men he had known -as boys. He prolonged their youth unduly. “They won’t settle down,” said -Mr. Wilbraham to his wife. “They’re wanting things. It’s the germ of -a Trades Union. I shall get rid of a few of the worst.” Then Stephen -rushed up to Mrs. Failing and worried her. “It wasn’t fair. So-and-so -was a good sort. He did his work. Keen about it? No. Why should he be? -Why should he be keen about somebody else’s land? But keen enough. And -very keen on football.” She laughed, and said a word about So-and-so -to Mr. Wilbraham. Mr. Wilbraham blazed up. “How could the farm go -on without discipline? How could there be discipline if Mr. Stephen -interfered? Mr. Stephen liked power. He spoke to the men like one of -themselves, and pretended it was all equality, but he took care to come -out top. Natural, of course, that, being a gentleman, he should. But -not natural for a gentleman to loiter all day with poor people and learn -their work, and put wrong notions into their heads, and carry their -newfangled grievances to Mrs. Failing. Which partly accounted for the -deficit on the past year.” She rebuked Stephen. Then he lost his temper, -was rude to her, and insulted Mr. Wilbraham. - -The worst days of Mr. Failing’s rule seemed to be returning. And Stephen -had a practical experience, and also a taste for battle, that her -husband had never possessed. He drew up a list of grievances, some +“Philosophy” had postponed the quarrel between them. Incurious about +his personal origin, he had a certain interest in our eternal problems. +The interest never became a passion: it sprang out of his physical +growth, and was soon merged in it again. Or, as he put it himself, +“I must get fixed up before starting.” He was soon fixed up as a +materialist. Then he tore up the sixpenny reprints, and never amused +Mrs. Failing so much again. + +About the time he fixed himself up, he took to drink. He knew of +no reason against it. The instinct was in him, and it hurt nobody. +Here, as elsewhere, his motions were decided, and he passed at once +from roaring jollity to silence. For those who live on the fuddled +borderland, who crawl home by the railings and maunder repentance in +the morning, he had a biting contempt. A man must take his tumble and +his headache. He was, in fact, as little disgusting as is conceivable; +and hitherto he had not strained his constitution or his will. Nor did +he get drunk as often as Agnes suggested. The real quarrel gathered +elsewhere. + + +Presentable people have run wild in their youth. But the hour comes +when they turn from their boorish company to higher things. This hour +never came for Stephen. Somewhat a bully by nature, he kept where his +powers would tell, and continued to quarrel and play with the men he +had known as boys. He prolonged their youth unduly. “They won’t settle +down,” said Mr. Wilbraham to his wife. “They’re wanting things. It’s +the germ of a Trades Union. I shall get rid of a few of the worst.” +Then Stephen rushed up to Mrs. Failing and worried her. “It wasn’t +fair. So-and-so was a good sort. He did his work. Keen about it? No. +Why should he be? Why should he be keen about somebody else’s land? But +keen enough. And very keen on football.” She laughed, and said a word +about So-and-so to Mr. Wilbraham. Mr. Wilbraham blazed up. “How could +the farm go on without discipline? How could there be discipline if +Mr. Stephen interfered? Mr. Stephen liked power. He spoke to the men +like one of themselves, and pretended it was all equality, but he took +care to come out top. Natural, of course, that, being a gentleman, he +should. But not natural for a gentleman to loiter all day with poor +people and learn their work, and put wrong notions into their heads, +and carry their newfangled grievances to Mrs. Failing. Which partly +accounted for the deficit on the past year.” She rebuked Stephen. Then +he lost his temper, was rude to her, and insulted Mr. Wilbraham. + +The worst days of Mr. Failing’s rule seemed to be returning. And +Stephen had a practical experience, and also a taste for battle, that +her husband had never possessed. He drew up a list of grievances, some absurd, others fundamental. No newspapers in the reading-room, you could put a plate under the Thompsons’ door, no level cricket-pitch, no allotments and no time to work in them, Mrs. Wilbraham’s knife-boy @@ -9295,9 +9445,9 @@ grievance, which Agnes casually supplied. Though vindictive, she was determined to treat him well, and thought with satisfaction of our distant colonies. But he burst into an odd passion: he would sooner starve than leave England. “Why?” she asked. “Are you in love?” He -picked up a lump of the chalk-they were by the arbour--and made no -answer. The vicar murmured, “It is not like going abroad--Greater -Britain--blood is thicker than water--” A lump of chalk broke her +picked up a lump of the chalk—they were by the arbour—and made no +answer. The vicar murmured, “It is not like going abroad—Greater +Britain—blood is thicker than water—” A lump of chalk broke her drawing-room window on the Saturday. Thus Stephen left Wiltshire, half-blackguard, half-martyr. Do not brand @@ -9305,111 +9455,111 @@ him as a socialist. He had no quarrel with society, nor any particular belief in people because they are poor. He only held the creed of “here am I and there are you,” and therefore class distinctions were trivial things to him, and life no decorous scheme, but a personal combat or a -personal truce. For the same reason ancestry also was trivial, and a man -not the dearer because the same woman was mother to them both. Yet it -seemed worth while to go to Sawston with the news. Perhaps nothing would -come of it; perhaps friendly intercourse, and a home while he looked -around. +personal truce. For the same reason ancestry also was trivial, and a +man not the dearer because the same woman was mother to them both. Yet +it seemed worth while to go to Sawston with the news. Perhaps nothing +would come of it; perhaps friendly intercourse, and a home while he +looked around. When they wronged him he walked quietly away. He never thought of -allotting the blame, nor or appealing to Ansell, who still sat brooding -in the side-garden. He only knew that educated people could be horrible, -and that a clean liver must never enter Dunwood House again. The air -seemed stuffy. He spat in the gutter. Was it yesterday he had lain in -the rifle-butts over Salisbury? Slightly aggrieved, he wondered why he -was not back there now. “I ought to have written first,” he reflected. -“Here is my money gone. I cannot move. The Elliots have, as it were, -practically robbed me.” That was the only grudge he retained against -them. Their suspicions and insults were to him as the curses of a tramp -whom he passed by the wayside. They were dirty people, not his sort. He -summed up the complicated tragedy as a “take in.” +allotting the blame, nor of appealing to Ansell, who still sat brooding +in the side-garden. He only knew that educated people could be +horrible, and that a clean liver must never enter Dunwood House again. +The air seemed stuffy. He spat in the gutter. Was it yesterday he had +lain in the rifle-butts over Salisbury? Slightly aggrieved, he wondered +why he was not back there now. “I ought to have written first,” he +reflected. “Here is my money gone. I cannot move. The Elliots have, as +it were, practically robbed me.” That was the only grudge he retained +against them. Their suspicions and insults were to him as the curses of +a tramp whom he passed by the wayside. They were dirty people, not his +sort. He summed up the complicated tragedy as a “take in.” While Rickie was being carried upstairs, and while Ansell (had he known -it) was dashing about the streets for him, he lay under a railway arch -trying to settle his plans. He must pay back the friends who had given -him shillings and clothes. He thought of Flea, whose Sundays he was -spoiling--poor Flea, who ought to be in them now, shining before his -girl. “I daresay he’ll be ashamed and not go to see her, and then she’ll -take the other man.” He was also very hungry. That worm Mrs. Elliot -would be through her lunch by now. Trying his braces round him, and -tearing up those old wet documents, he stepped forth to make money. A -villainous young brute he looked: his clothes were dirty, and he had -lost the spring of the morning. Touching the walls, frowning, talking to -himself at times, he slouched disconsolately northwards; no wonder that -some tawdry girls screamed at him, or that matrons averted their eyes -as they hurried to afternoon church. He wandered from one suburb to -another, till he was among people more villainous than himself, who -bought his tobacco from him and sold him food. Again the neighbourhood -“went up,” and families, instead of sitting on their doorsteps, would -sit behind thick muslin curtains. Again it would “go down” into a more -avowed despair. Far into the night he wandered, until he came to a -solemn river majestic as a stream in hell. Therein were gathered -the waters of Central England--those that flow off Hindhead, off the -Chilterns, off Wiltshire north of the Plain. Therein they were made -intolerable ere they reached the sea. But the waters he had known -escaped. Their course lay southward into the Avon by forests and -beautiful fields, even swift, even pure, until they mirrored the tower -of Christchurch and greeted the ramparts of the Isle of Wight. Of these -he thought for a moment as he crossed the black river and entered the -heart of the modern world. Here he found employment. He was not hampered -by genteel traditions, and, as it was near quarter-day, managed to get -taken on at a furniture warehouse. He moved people from the suburbs -to London, from London to the suburbs, from one suburb to another. His -companions were hurried and querulous. In particular, he loathed -the foreman, a pious humbug who allowed no swearing, but indulged in -something far more degraded--the Cockney repartee. The London intellect, -so pert and shallow, like a stream that never reaches the ocean, -disgusted him almost as much as the London physique, which for all -its dexterity is not permanent, and seldom continues into the third -generation. His father, had he known it, had felt the same; for between -Mr. Elliot and the foreman the gulf was social, not spiritual: both -spent their lives in trying to be clever. And Tony Failing had once put -the thing into words: “There’s no such thing as a Londoner. He’s only a -country man on the road to sterility.” +it) was dashing about the streets for him, he lay under a railway +arch trying to settle his plans. He must pay back the friends who had +given him shillings and clothes. He thought of Flea, whose Sundays he +was spoiling—poor Flea, who ought to be in them now, shining before +his girl. “I daresay he’ll be ashamed and not go to see her, and then +she’ll take the other man.” He was also very hungry. That worm Mrs. +Elliot would be through her lunch by now. Tying his braces round +him, and tearing up those old wet documents, he stepped forth to make +money. A villainous young brute he looked: his clothes were dirty, and +he had lost the spring of the morning. Touching the walls, frowning, +talking to himself at times, he slouched disconsolately northwards; +no wonder that some tawdry girls screamed at him, or that matrons +averted their eyes as they hurried to afternoon church. He wandered +from one suburb to another, till he was among people more villainous +than himself, who bought his tobacco from him and sold him food. Again +the neighbourhood “went up,” and families, instead of sitting on their +doorsteps, would sit behind thick muslin curtains. Again it would “go +down” into a more avowed despair. Far into the night he wandered, until +he came to a solemn river majestic as a stream in hell. Therein were +gathered the waters of Central England—those that flow off Hindhead, +off the Chilterns, off Wiltshire north of the Plain. Therein they +were made intolerable ere they reached the sea. But the waters he had +known escaped. Their course lay southward into the Avon by forests +and beautiful fields, even swift, even pure, until they mirrored the +tower of Christchurch and greeted the ramparts of the Isle of Wight. +Of these he thought for a moment as he crossed the black river and +entered the heart of the modern world. Here he found employment. He was +not hampered by genteel traditions, and, as it was near quarter-day, +managed to get taken on at a furniture warehouse. He moved people from +the suburbs to London, from London to the suburbs, from one suburb to +another. His companions were hurried and querulous. In particular, +he loathed the foreman, a pious humbug who allowed no swearing, but +indulged in something far more degraded—the Cockney repartee. The +London intellect, so pert and shallow, like a stream that never reaches +the ocean, disgusted him almost as much as the London physique, which +for all its dexterity is not permanent, and seldom continues into the +third generation. His father, had he known it, had felt the same; for +between Mr. Elliot and the foreman the gulf was social, not spiritual: +both spent their lives in trying to be clever. And Tony Failing had +once put the thing into words: “There’s no such thing as a Londoner. +He’s only a country man on the road to sterility.” At the end of ten days he had saved scarcely anything. Once he passed the bank where a hundred pounds lay ready for him, but it was still inconvenient for him to take them. Then duty sent him to a suburb not -very far from Sawston. In the evening a man who was driving a trap asked -him to hold it, and by mistake tipped him a sovereign. Stephen called -after him; but the man had a woman with him and wanted to show off, and -though he had meant to tip a shilling, and could not afford that, he -shouted back that his sovereign was as good as any one’s, and that if -Stephen did not think so he could do various things and go to various -places. On the action of this man much depends. Stephen changed the -sovereign into a postal order, and sent it off to the people at Cadford. -It did not pay them back, but it paid them something, and he felt that -his soul was free. - -A few shillings remained in his pocket. They would have paid his fare -towards Wiltshire, a good county; but what should he do there? Who -would employ him? Today the journey did not seem worth while. “Tomorrow, -perhaps,” he thought, and determined to spend the money on pleasure of -another kind. Two-pence went for a ride on an electric tram. From the -top he saw the sun descend--a disc with a dark red edge. The same sun -was descending over Salisbury intolerably bright. Out of the golden haze -the spire would be piercing, like a purple needle; then mists arose from -the Avon and the other streams. Lamps flickered, but in the outer purity -the villages were already slumbering. Salisbury is only a Gothic upstart -beside these. For generations they have come down to her to buy or to -worship, and have found in her the reasonable crisis of their lives; -but generations before she was built they were clinging to the soil, and -renewing it with sheep and dogs and men, who found the crisis of their -lives upon Stonehenge. The blood of these men ran in Stephen; the vigour -they had won for him was as yet untarnished; out on those downs they had -united with rough women to make the thing he spoke of as “himself”; the -last of them has rescued a woman of a different kind from streets and -houses such as these. As the sun descended he got off the tram with a -smile of expectation. A public-house lay opposite, and a boy in a dirty -uniform was already lighting its enormous lamp. His lips parted, and he -went in. +very far from Sawston. In the evening a man who was driving a trap +asked him to hold it, and by mistake tipped him a sovereign. Stephen +called after him; but the man had a woman with him and wanted to show +off, and though he had meant to tip a shilling, and could not afford +that, he shouted back that his sovereign was as good as any one’s, and +that if Stephen did not think so he could do various things and go to +various places. On the action of this man much depends. Stephen changed +the sovereign into a postal order, and sent it off to the people at +Cadford. It did not pay them back, but it paid them something, and he +felt that his soul was free. + +A few shillings remained in his pocket. They would have paid his +fare towards Wiltshire, a good county; but what should he do there? +Who would employ him? Today the journey did not seem worth while. +“Tomorrow, perhaps,” he thought, and determined to spend the money on +pleasure of another kind. Two-pence went for a ride on an electric +tram. From the top he saw the sun descend—a disc with a dark red edge. +The same sun was descending over Salisbury intolerably bright. Out of +the golden haze the spire would be piercing, like a purple needle; then +mists arose from the Avon and the other streams. Lamps flickered, but +in the outer purity the villages were already slumbering. Salisbury +is only a Gothic upstart beside these. For generations they have come +down to her to buy or to worship, and have found in her the reasonable +crisis of their lives; but generations before she was built they were +clinging to the soil, and renewing it with sheep and dogs and men, +who found the crisis of their lives upon Stonehenge. The blood of +these men ran in Stephen; the vigour they had won for him was as yet +untarnished; out on those downs they had united with rough women to +make the thing he spoke of as “himself”; the last of them has rescued +a woman of a different kind from streets and houses such as these. As +the sun descended he got off the tram with a smile of expectation. A +public-house lay opposite, and a boy in a dirty uniform was already +lighting its enormous lamp. His lips parted, and he went in. Two hours later, when Rickie and Herbert were going the rounds, a brick -came crashing at the study window. Herbert peered into the garden, and a -hooligan slipped by him into the house, wrecked the hall, lurched up the -stairs, fell against the banisters, balanced for a moment on his spine, -and slid over. Herbert called for the police. Rickie, who was upon the -landing, caught the man by the knees and saved his life. +came crashing at the study window. Herbert peered into the garden, and +a hooligan slipped by him into the house, wrecked the hall, lurched up +the stairs, fell against the banisters, balanced for a moment on his +spine, and slid over. Herbert called for the police. Rickie, who was +upon the landing, caught the man by the knees and saved his life. “What is it?” cried Agnes, emerging. @@ -9417,13 +9567,15 @@ landing, caught the man by the knees and saved his life. + XXXI -Hither had Rickie moved in ten days--from disgust to penitence, from + +Hither had Rickie moved in ten days—from disgust to penitence, from penitence to longing from a life of horror to a new life, in which he -still surprised himself by unexpected words. Hullo, Stephen! For the son -of his mother had come back, to forgive him, as she would have done, to -live with him, as she had planned. +still surprised himself by unexpected words. Hullo, Stephen! For the +son of his mother had come back, to forgive him, as she would have +done, to live with him, as she had planned. “He’s drunk this time,” said Agnes wearily. She too had altered: the scandal was ageing her, and Ansell came to the house daily. @@ -9432,39 +9584,39 @@ scandal was ageing her, and Ansell came to the house daily. But Stephen was now insensible. -“Stephen, you live here--” +“Stephen, you live here—” -“Good gracious me!” interposed Herbert. “My advice is, that we all go to -bed. The less said the better while our nerves are in this state. Very -well, Rickie. Of course, Wonham sleeps the night if you wish.” They -carried the drunken mass into the spare room. A mass of scandal it -seemed to one of them, a symbol of redemption to the other. Neither +“Good gracious me!” interposed Herbert. “My advice is, that we all go +to bed. The less said the better while our nerves are in this state. +Very well, Rickie. Of course, Wonham sleeps the night if you wish.” +They carried the drunken mass into the spare room. A mass of scandal +it seemed to one of them, a symbol of redemption to the other. Neither acknowledged it a man, who would answer them back after a few hours’ rest. “Ansell thought he would never forgive me,” said Rickie. “For once he’s wrong.” -“Come to bed now, I think.” And as Rickie laid his hand on the sleeper’s -hair, he added, “You won’t do anything foolish, will you? You are still -in a morbid state. Your poor mother--Pardon me, dear boy; it is my turn -to speak out. You thought it was your father, and minded. It is your -mother. Surely you ought to mind more?” +“Come to bed now, I think.” And as Rickie laid his hand on the +sleeper’s hair, he added, “You won’t do anything foolish, will you? You +are still in a morbid state. Your poor mother—Pardon me, dear boy; it +is my turn to speak out. You thought it was your father, and minded. It +is your mother. Surely you ought to mind more?” “I have been too far back,” said Rickie gently. “Ansell took me on a journey that was even new to him. We got behind right and wrong, to a -place where only one thing matters--that the Beloved should rise from +place where only one thing matters—that the Beloved should rise from the dead.” “But you won’t do anything rash?” “Why should I?” -“Remember poor Agnes,” he stammered. “I--I am the first to acknowledge -that we might have pursued a different policy. But we are committed to -it now. It makes no difference whose son he is. I mean, he is the same -person. You and I and my sister stand or fall together. It was our -agreement from the first. I hope--No more of these distressing scenes +“Remember poor Agnes,” he stammered. “I—I am the first to acknowledge +that we might have pursued a different policy. But we are committed +to it now. It makes no difference whose son he is. I mean, he is the +same person. You and I and my sister stand or fall together. It was our +agreement from the first. I hope—No more of these distressing scenes with her, there’s a dear fellow. I assure you they make my heart bleed.” “Things will quiet down now.” @@ -9474,19 +9626,19 @@ with her, there’s a dear fellow. I assure you they make my heart bleed.” “Very well,” said Rickie, and when they were in the passage, locked the door from the outside. “We want no more muddles,” he explained. -Mr. Pembroke was left examining the hall. The bust of Hermes was broken. -So was the pot of the palm. He could not go to bed without once more -sounding Rickie. “You’ll do nothing rash,” he called. “The notion of him -living here was, of course, a passing impulse. We three have adopted a -common policy.” +Mr. Pembroke was left examining the hall. The bust of Hermes was +broken. So was the pot of the palm. He could not go to bed without once +more sounding Rickie. “You’ll do nothing rash,” he called. “The notion +of him living here was, of course, a passing impulse. We three have +adopted a common policy.” “Now, you go away!” called a voice that was almost flippant. “I never did belong to that great sect whose doctrine is that each one should -select--at least, I’m not going to belong to it any longer. Go away to +select—at least, I’m not going to belong to it any longer. Go away to bed.” -“A good night’s rest is what you need,” threatened Herbert, and retired, -not to find one for himself. +“A good night’s rest is what you need,” threatened Herbert, and +retired, not to find one for himself. But Rickie slept. The guilt of months and the remorse of the last ten days had alike departed. He had thought that his life was poisoned, and @@ -9494,13 +9646,13 @@ lo! it was purified. He had cursed his mother, and Ansell had replied, “You may be right, but you stand too near to settle. Step backwards. Pretend that it happened to me. Do you want me to curse my mother? Now, step forward and see whether anything has changed.” Something had -changed. He had journeyed--as on rare occasions a man must--till he +changed. He had journeyed—as on rare occasions a man must—till he stood behind right and wrong. On the banks of the grey torrent of life, love is the only flower. A little way up the stream and a little way down had Rickie glanced, and he knew that she whom he loved had risen -from the dead, and might rise again. “Come away--let them die out--let +from the dead, and might rise again. “Come away—let them die out—let them die out.” Surely that dream was a vision! To-night also he hurried -to the window--to remember, with a smile, that Orion is not among the +to the window—to remember, with a smile, that Orion is not among the stars of June. “Let me die out. She will continue,” he murmured, and in making plans @@ -9508,9 +9660,9 @@ for Stephen’s happiness, fell asleep. Next morning after breakfast he announced that his brother must live at Dunwood House. They were awed by the very moderation of his tone. -“There’s nothing else to be done. Cadover’s hopeless, and a boy of those -tendencies can’t go drifting. There is also the question of a profession -for him, and his allowance.” +“There’s nothing else to be done. Cadover’s hopeless, and a boy of +those tendencies can’t go drifting. There is also the question of a +profession for him, and his allowance.” “We have to thank Mr. Ansell for this,” was all that Agnes could say; and “I foresee disaster,” was the contribution of Herbert. @@ -9518,7 +9670,7 @@ and “I foresee disaster,” was the contribution of Herbert. “There’s plenty of money about,” Rickie continued. “Quite a man’s-worth too much. It has been one of our absurdities. Don’t look so sad, Herbert. I’m sorry for you people, but he’s sure to let us down easy.” - For his experience of drunkards and of Stephen was small. +For his experience of drunkards and of Stephen was small. He supposed that he had come without malice to renew the offer of ten days ago. @@ -9528,29 +9680,29 @@ days ago. Rickie nodded, and hoped not. Agnes, who was not looking well, began to cry. “Oh, it is too bad,” she complained, “when I’ve saved you from him all these years.” But he could not pity her, nor even sympathize with -her wounded delicacy. The time for such nonsense was over. He would take -his share of the blame: it was cant to assume it all. +her wounded delicacy. The time for such nonsense was over. He would +take his share of the blame: it was cant to assume it all. Perhaps he was over-hard. He did not realize how large his share was, -nor how his very virtues were to blame for her deterioration. “If I had -a girl, I’d keep her in line,” is not the remark of a fool nor of a cad. -Rickie had not kept his wife in line. He had shown her all the workings -of his soul, mistaking this for love; and in consequence she was the -worse woman after two years of marriage, and he, on this morning of -freedom, was harder upon her than he need have been. +nor how his very virtues were to blame for her deterioration. “If I +had a girl, I’d keep her in line,” is not the remark of a fool nor +of a cad. Rickie had not kept his wife in line. He had shown her all +the workings of his soul, mistaking this for love; and in consequence +she was the worse woman after two years of marriage, and he, on this +morning of freedom, was harder upon her than he need have been. The spare room bell rang. Herbert had a painful struggle between curiosity and duty, for the bell for chapel was ringing also, and he must go through the drizzle to school. He promised to come up in the -interval, Rickie, who had rapped his head that Sunday on the edge of +interval. Rickie, who had rapped his head that Sunday on the edge of the table, was still forbidden to work. Before him a quiet morning lay. Secure of his victory, he took the portrait of their mother in his hand and walked leisurely upstairs. The bell continued to ring. -“See about his breakfast,” he called to Agnes, who replied, “Very well.” - The handle of the spare room door was moving slowly. “I’m coming,” he -cried. The handle was still. He unlocked and entered, his heart full of -charity. +“See about his breakfast,” he called to Agnes, who replied, “Very +well.” The handle of the spare room door was moving slowly. “I’m +coming,” he cried. The handle was still. He unlocked and entered, his +heart full of charity. But within stood a man who probably owned the world. @@ -9565,16 +9717,17 @@ Rickie himself glanced backwards, only to see the neat passage and the banisters at the top of the stairs. Then the lips beat together twice, and out burst a torrent of amazing words. -“Add it all up, and let me know how much. I’d sooner have died. It never -took me that way before. I must have broken pounds’ worth. If you’ll not -tell the police, I promise you shan’t lose, Mr. Elliot, I swear. But it -may be months before I send it. Everything is to be new. You’ve not to -be a penny out of pocket, do you see? Do let me go, this once again.” +“Add it all up, and let me know how much. I’d sooner have died. It +never took me that way before. I must have broken pounds’ worth. If +you’ll not tell the police, I promise you shan’t lose, Mr. Elliot, I +swear. But it may be months before I send it. Everything is to be new. +You’ve not to be a penny out of pocket, do you see? Do let me go, this +once again.” “What’s the trouble?” asked Rickie, as if they had been friends for -years. “My dear man, we’ve other things to talk about. Gracious me, what -a fuss! If you’d smashed the whole house I wouldn’t mind, so long as you -came back.” +years. “My dear man, we’ve other things to talk about. Gracious me, +what a fuss! If you’d smashed the whole house I wouldn’t mind, so long +as you came back.” “I’d sooner have died,” gulped Stephen. @@ -9586,21 +9739,21 @@ said without focusing his eyes. “I was drunk, but naturally meant it.” “Meant what?” -“To smash you. Bad liquor did what Mrs. Elliot couldn’t. I’ve put myself -in the wrong. You’ve got me.” +“To smash you. Bad liquor did what Mrs. Elliot couldn’t. I’ve put +myself in the wrong. You’ve got me.” It was a poor beginning. -“As I have got you,” said Rickie, controlling himself, “I want to have a -talk with you. There has been a ghastly mistake.” +“As I have got you,” said Rickie, controlling himself, “I want to have +a talk with you. There has been a ghastly mistake.” -But Stephen, with a countryman’s persistency, continued on his own line. -He meant to be civil, but Rickie went cold round the mouth. For he had -not even been angry with them. Until he was drunk, they had been dirty -people--not his sort. Then the trivial injury recurred, and he had -reeled to smash them as he passed. “And I will pay for everything,” was -his refrain, with which the sighing of raindrops mingled. “You shan’t -lose a penny, if only you let me free.” +But Stephen, with a countryman’s persistency, continued on his own +line. He meant to be civil, but Rickie went cold round the mouth. For +he had not even been angry with them. Until he was drunk, they had been +dirty people—not his sort. Then the trivial injury recurred, and he +had reeled to smash them as he passed. “And I will pay for everything,” +was his refrain, with which the sighing of raindrops mingled. “You +shan’t lose a penny, if only you let me free.” “You’ll pay for my coffin if you talk like that any longer! Will you, one, forgive my frightful behaviour; two, live with me?” For his only @@ -9608,71 +9761,71 @@ hope was in a cheerful precision. Stephen grew more agitated. He thought it was some trick. -“I was saying I made an unspeakable mistake. Ansell put me right, but it -was too late to find you. Don’t think I got off easily. Ansell doesn’t -spare one. And you’ve got to forgive me, to share my life, to share -my money.--I’ve brought you this photograph--I want it to be the first -thing you accept from me--you have the greater right--I know all the -story now. You know who it is?” +“I was saying I made an unspeakable mistake. Ansell put me right, but +it was too late to find you. Don’t think I got off easily. Ansell +doesn’t spare one. And you’ve got to forgive me, to share my life, to +share my money.—I’ve brought you this photograph—I want it to be the +first thing you accept from me—you have the greater right—I know all +the story now. You know who it is?” “Oh yes; but I don’t want to drag all that in.” “It is only her wish if we live together. She was planning it when she died.” -“I can’t follow--because--to share your life? Did you know I called here -last Sunday week?” +“I can’t follow—because—to share your life? Did you know I called +here last Sunday week?” “Yes. But then I only knew half. I thought you were my father’s son.” Stephen’s anger and bewilderment were increasing. He stuttered. -“What--what’s the odds if you did?” +“What—what’s the odds if you did?” -“I hated my father,” said Rickie. “I loved my mother.” And never had the -phrases seemed so destitute of meaning. +“I hated my father,” said Rickie. “I loved my mother.” And never had +the phrases seemed so destitute of meaning. -“Last Sunday week,” interrupted Stephen, his voice suddenly rising, -“I came to call on you. Not as this or that’s son. Not to fall on your -neck. Nor to live here. Nor--damn your dirty little mind! I meant to -say I didn’t come for money. Sorry. Sorry. I simply came as I was, and I -haven’t altered since.” +“Last Sunday week,” interrupted Stephen, his voice suddenly rising, “I +came to call on you. Not as this or that’s son. Not to fall on your +neck. Nor to live here. Nor—damn your dirty little mind! I meant to +say I didn’t come for money. Sorry. Sorry. I simply came as I was, and +I haven’t altered since.” -“Yes--yet our mother--for me she has risen from the dead since then--I -know I was wrong--” +“Yes—yet our mother—for me she has risen from the dead since then—I +know I was wrong—” -“And where do I come in?” He kicked the hassock. “I haven’t risen from -the dead. I haven’t altered since last Sunday week. I’m--” He stuttered -again. He could not quite explain what he was. “The man towards -Andover--after all, he was having principles. But you’ve--” His voice -broke. “I mind it--I’m--I don’t alter--blackguard one week--live here -the next--I keep to one or the other--you’ve hurt something most badly -in me that I didn’t know was there.” +“And where do I come in?” He kicked the hassock. “_I_ haven’t risen +from the dead. _I_ haven’t altered since last Sunday week. I’m—” He +stuttered again. He could not quite explain what he was. “The man +towards Andover—after all, he was having principles. But you’ve—” His +voice broke. “I mind it—I’m—_I_ don’t alter—blackguard one week—live +here the next—I keep to one or the other—you’ve hurt something most +badly in me that I didn’t know was there.” “Don’t let us talk,” said Rickie. “It gets worse every minute. Simply say you forgive me; shake hands, and have done with it.” “That I won’t. That I couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know what you mean.” -Then Rickie began a new appeal--not to pity, for now he was in no mood +Then Rickie began a new appeal—not to pity, for now he was in no mood to whimper. For all its pathos, there was something heroic in this meeting. “I warn you to stop here with me, Stephen. No one else in the world will look after you. As far as I know, you have never been really unhappy yet or suffered, as you should do, from your faults. Last night you nearly killed yourself with drink. Never mind why I’m willing to -cure you. I am willing, and I warn you to give me the chance. Forgive me -or not, as you choose. I care for other things more.” +cure you. I am willing, and I warn you to give me the chance. Forgive +me or not, as you choose. I care for other things more.” Stephen looked at him at last, faintly approving. The offer was ridiculous, but it did treat him as a man. “Let me tell you of a fault of mine, and how I was punished for it,” - continued Rickie. “Two years ago I behaved badly to you, up at the +continued Rickie. “Two years ago I behaved badly to you, up at the Rings. No, even a few days before that. We went for a ride, and I thought too much of other matters, and did not try to understand you. Then came the Rings, and in the evening, when you called up to me most kindly, I never answered. But the ride was the beginning. Ever since then I have taken the world at second-hand. I have bothered less and -less to look it in the face--until not only you, but every one else has +less to look it in the face—until not only you, but every one else has turned unreal. Never Ansell: he kept away, and somehow saved himself. But every one else. Do you remember in one of Tony Failing’s books, ‘Cast bitter bread upon the waters, and after many days it really does @@ -9689,26 +9842,27 @@ Sunday week.” “There you’re right, Mrs. Elliot!” he shouted, starting out of the temperate past. “We haven’t altered.” With a rare flash of insight he -turned on Rickie. “I see your game. You don’t care about ME drinking, or -to shake MY hand. It’s some one else you want to cure--as it were, +turned on Rickie. “I see your game. You don’t care about _me_ drinking, +or to shake _my_ hand. It’s some one else you want to cure—as it were, that old photograph. You talk to me, but all the time you look at the photograph.” He snatched it up. -“I’ve my own ideas of good manners, and to look friends between the eyes -is one of them; and this”--he tore the photograph across “and this”--he -tore it again--“and these--” He flung the pieces at the man, who had -sunk into a chair. “For my part, I’m off.” - -Then Rickie was heroic no longer. Turning round in his chair, he covered -his face. The man was right. He did not love him, even as he had never -hated him. In either passion he had degraded him to be a symbol for the -vanished past. The man was right, and would have been lovable. He longed -to be back riding over those windy fields, to be back in those mystic -circles, beneath pure sky. Then they could have watched and helped and -taught each other, until the word was a reality, and the past not a torn -photograph, but Demeter the goddess rejoicing in the spring. Ah, if he -had seized those high opportunities! For they led to the highest of all, -the symbolic moment, which, if a man accepts, he has accepted life. +“I’ve my own ideas of good manners, and to look friends between the +eyes is one of them; and this”—he tore the photograph across “and +this”—he tore it again—“and these—” He flung the pieces at the man, +who had sunk into a chair. “For my part, I’m off.” + +Then Rickie was heroic no longer. Turning round in his chair, he +covered his face. The man was right. He did not love him, even as he +had never hated him. In either passion he had degraded him to be a +symbol for the vanished past. The man was right, and would have been +lovable. He longed to be back riding over those windy fields, to be +back in those mystic circles, beneath pure sky. Then they could have +watched and helped and taught each other, until the word was a reality, +and the past not a torn photograph, but Demeter the goddess rejoicing +in the spring. Ah, if he had seized those high opportunities! For +they led to the highest of all, the symbolic moment, which, if a man +accepts, he has accepted life. The voice of Agnes, which had lured him then (“For my sake,” she had whispered), pealed over him now in triumph. Abruptly it broke into sobs @@ -9716,9 +9870,9 @@ that had the effect of rain. He started up. The anger had died out of Stephen’s face, not for a subtle reason but because here was a woman, near him, and unhappy. -She tried to apologize, and brought on a fresh burst of tears. Something -had upset her. They heard her locking the door of her room. From that -moment their intercourse was changed. +She tried to apologize, and brought on a fresh burst of tears. +Something had upset her. They heard her locking the door of her room. +From that moment their intercourse was changed. “Why does she keep crying today?” mused Rickie, as if he spoke to some mutual friend. @@ -9741,7 +9895,7 @@ piteous gulping cough. “Where is he now?” asked Stephen. “Dead.” -“And then you--?” +“And then you—?” Rickie nodded. @@ -9749,20 +9903,20 @@ Rickie nodded. “I didn’t know of this particular thing. She acted as if she had forgotten him. Perhaps she had, and you woke him up. There are queer -tricks in the world. She is overstrained. She has probably been plotting -ever since you burst in last night.” +tricks in the world. She is overstrained. She has probably been +plotting ever since you burst in last night.” “Against me?” “Yes.” -Stephen stood irresolute. “I suppose you and she pulled together?” He +Stephen stood irresolute. “I suppose you and she pulled together?” he said at last. “Get away from us, man! I mind losing you. Yet it’s as well you don’t stop.” -“Oh, THAT’S out of the question,” said Stephen, brushing his cap. +“Oh, _that’s_ out of the question,” said Stephen, brushing his cap. “If you’ve guessed anything, I’d be obliged if you didn’t mention it. I’ve no right to ask, but I’d be obliged.” @@ -9780,7 +9934,7 @@ strange after such a sunset. “I wish you’d have some breakfast before starting.” -“No food, thanks. But you know” He paused. “It’s all been a muddle, and +“No food, thanks. But you know—” He paused. “It’s all been a muddle, and I’ve no objection to your coming along with me.” The cloud descended lower. @@ -9788,15 +9942,15 @@ The cloud descended lower. “Come with me as a man,” said Stephen, already out in the mist. “Not as a brother; who cares what people did years back? We’re alive together, and the rest is cant. Here am I, Rickie, and there are you, a fair -wreck. They’ve no use for you here,--never had any, if the truth was -known,--and they’ve only made you beastly. This house, so to speak, has +wreck. They’ve no use for you here,—never had any, if the truth was +known,—and they’ve only made you beastly. This house, so to speak, has the rot. It’s common-sense that you should come.” “Stephen, wait a minute. What do you mean?” “Wait’s what we won’t do,” said Stephen at the gate. -“I must ask--” +“I must ask—” He did wait for a minute, and sobs were heard, faint, hopeless, vindictive. Then he trudged away, and Rickie soon lost his colour and @@ -9815,22 +9969,23 @@ all events, overleap one grave. XXXII Mr. Pembroke did not receive a clear account of what had happened when -he returned for the interval. His sister--he told her frankly--was +he returned for the interval. His sister—he told her frankly—was concealing something from him. She could make no reply. Had she gone mad, she wondered. Hitherto she had pretended to love her husband. Why choose such a moment for the truth? “But I understand Rickie’s position,” he told her. “It is an unbalanced -position, yet I understand it; I noted its approach while he was ill. -He imagines himself his brother’s keeper. Therefore we must make -concessions. We must negotiate.” The negotiations were still progressing -in November, the month during which this story draws to its close. +position, yet I understand it; I noted its approach while he was +ill. He imagines himself his brother’s keeper. Therefore we must +make concessions. We must negotiate.” The negotiations were still +progressing in November, the month during which this story draws to its +close. “I understand his position,” he then told her. “It is both weak and defiant. He is still with those Ansells. Read this letter, which thanks -me for his little stories. We sent them last month, you remember--such -of them as we could find. It seems that he fills up his time by writing: -he has already written a book.” +me for his little stories. We sent them last month, you remember—such +of them as we could find. It seems that he fills up his time by +writing: he has already written a book.” She only gave him half her attention, for a beautiful wreath had just arrived from the florist’s. She was taking it up to the cemetery: today @@ -9848,7 +10003,7 @@ divorce would have been more bearable than this withdrawal. People asked, “Why did her husband leave her?” and the answer came, “Oh, nothing particular; he only couldn’t stand her; she lied and taught him to lie; she kept him from the work that suited him, from his friends, -from his brother,--in a word, she tried to run him, which a man won’t +from his brother,—in a word, she tried to run him, which a man won’t pardon.” A few tears; not many. To her, life never showed itself as a classic drama, in which, by trying to advance our fortunes, we shatter them. She had turned Stephen out of Wiltshire, and he fell like a @@ -9858,88 +10013,91 @@ irony is a subtle teacher, and she was not the woman to learn from such lessons as these. Her suffering was more direct. Three men had wronged her; therefore she hated them, and, if she could, would do them harm. -“These negotiations are quite useless,” she told Herbert when she -came downstairs. “We had much better bide our time. Tell me just about +“These negotiations are quite useless,” she told Herbert when she came +downstairs. “We had much better bide our time. Tell me just about Stephen Wonham, though.” He drew her into the study again. “Wonham is or was in Scotland, learning to farm with connections of the Ansells: I believe the money -is to go towards setting him up. Apparently he is a hard worker. He also -drinks!” +is to go towards setting him up. Apparently he is a hard worker. He +also drinks!” She nodded and smiled. “More than he did?” -“My informant, Mr. Tilliard--oh, I ought not to have mentioned his name. -He is one of the better sort of Rickie’s Cambridge friends, and has been -dreadfully grieved at the collapse, but he does not want to be mixed up -in it. This autumn he was up in the Lowlands, close by, and very kindly -made a few unobtrusive inquiries for me. The man is becoming an habitual -drunkard.” +“My informant, Mr. Tilliard—oh, I ought not to have mentioned his +name. He is one of the better sort of Rickie’s Cambridge friends, and +has been dreadfully grieved at the collapse, but he does not want to +be mixed up in it. This autumn he was up in the Lowlands, close by, +and very kindly made a few unobtrusive inquiries for me. The man is +becoming an habitual drunkard.” -She smiled again. Stephen had evoked her secret, and she hated him -more for that than for anything else that he had done. The poise of his -shoulders that morning--it was no more--had recalled Gerald. +She smiled again. Stephen had evoked her secret, and she hated him more +for that than for anything else that he had done. The poise of his +shoulders that morning—it was no more—had recalled Gerald. If only she had not been so tired! He had reminded her of the greatest -thing she had known, and to her cloudy mind this seemed degradation. She -had turned to him as to her lover; with a look, which a man of his type -understood, she had asked for his pity; for one terrible moment she -had desired to be held in his arms. Even Herbert was surprised when she -said, “I’m glad he drinks. I hope he’ll kill himself. A man like that -ought never to have been born.” +thing she had known, and to her cloudy mind this seemed degradation. +She had turned to him as to her lover; with a look, which a man of his +type understood, she had asked for his pity; for one terrible moment +she had desired to be held in his arms. Even Herbert was surprised when +she said, “I’m glad he drinks. I hope he’ll kill himself. A man like +that ought never to have been born.” “Perhaps the sins of the parents are visited on the children,” said Herbert, taking her to the carriage. “Yet it is not for us to decide.” -“I feel sure he will be punished. What right has he--” She broke off. +“I feel sure he will be punished. What right has he—” She broke off. What right had he to our common humanity? It was a hard lesson for any one to learn. For Agnes it was impossible. Stephen was illicit, abnormal, worse than a man diseased. Yet she had turned to him: he had drawn out the truth. “My dear, don’t cry,” said her brother, drawing up the windows. “I have -great hopes of Mr. Tilliard--the Silts have written--Mrs. Failing will -do what she can--” - -As she drove to the cemetery, her bitterness turned against Ansell, who -had kept her husband alive in the days after Stephen’s expulsion. If -he had not been there, Rickie would have renounced his mother and his -brother and all the outer world, troubling no one. The mystic, inherent -in him, would have prevailed. So Ansell himself had told her. And -Ansell, too, had sheltered the fugitives and given them money, and saved -them from the ludicrous checks that so often stop young men. But when -she reached the cemetery, and stood beside the tiny grave, all her +great hopes of Mr. Tilliard—the Silts have written—Mrs. Failing will +do what she can—” + +As she drove to the cemetery, her bitterness turned against Ansell, +who had kept her husband alive in the days after Stephen’s expulsion. +If he had not been there, Rickie would have renounced his mother and +his brother and all the outer world, troubling no one. The mystic, +inherent in him, would have prevailed. So Ansell himself had told her. +And Ansell, too, had sheltered the fugitives and given them money, and +saved them from the ludicrous checks that so often stop young men. But +when she reached the cemetery, and stood beside the tiny grave, all her bitterness, all her hatred were turned against Rickie. -“But he’ll come back in the end,” she thought. “A wife has only to wait. -What are his friends beside me? They too will marry. I have only to -wait. His book, like all that he has done, will fail. His brother is +“But he’ll come back in the end,” she thought. “A wife has only to +wait. What are his friends beside me? They too will marry. I have only +to wait. His book, like all that he has done, will fail. His brother is drinking himself away. Poor aimless Rickie! I have only to keep civil. He will come back in the end.” She had moved, and found herself close to the grave of Gerald. The -flowers she had planted after his death were dead, and she had not liked -to renew them. There lay the athlete, and his dust was as the little -child’s whom she had brought into the world with such hope, with such -pain. +flowers she had planted after his death were dead, and she had not +liked to renew them. There lay the athlete, and his dust was as the +little child’s whom she had brought into the world with such hope, with +such pain. + XXXIII + That same day Rickie, feeling neither poor nor aimless, left the -Ansells’ for a night’s visit to Cadover. His aunt had invited him--why, +Ansells’ for a night’s visit to Cadover. His aunt had invited him—why, he could not think, nor could he think why he should refuse the -invitation. She could not annoy him now, and he was not vindictive. In -the dell near Madingley he had cried, “I hate no one,” in his ignorance. -Now, with full knowledge, he hated no one again. The weather was -pleasant, the county attractive, and he was ready for a little change. +invitation. She could not annoy him now, and he was not vindictive. +In the dell near Madingley he had cried, “I hate no one,” in his +ignorance. Now, with full knowledge, he hated no one again. The weather +was pleasant, the county attractive, and he was ready for a little +change. Maud and Stewart saw him off. Stephen, who was down for the holiday, -had been left with his chin on the luncheon table. He had wanted to come -also. Rickie pointed out that you cannot visit where you have broken the -windows. There was an argument--there generally was--and now the young -man had turned sulky. +had been left with his chin on the luncheon table. He had wanted to +come also. Rickie pointed out that you cannot visit where you have +broken the windows. There was an argument—there generally was—and now +the young man had turned sulky. “Let him do what he likes,” said Ansell. “He knows more than we do. He knows everything.” @@ -9964,26 +10122,27 @@ this. The carriage was empty. Rickie settled himself down for his little journey. First he looked at the coloured photographs. Then he read the -directions for obtaining luncheon-baskets, and felt the texture of the -cushions. Through the windows a signal-box interested him. Then he saw -the ugly little town that was now his home, and up its chief street the -Ansells’ memorable facade. The spirit of a genial comedy dwelt there. It -was so absurd, so kindly. The house was divided against itself and yet -stood. Metaphysics, commerce, social aspirations--all lived together in -harmony. Mr. Ansell had done much, but one was tempted to believe in a -more capricious power--the power that abstains from “nipping.” “One nips -or is nipped, and never knows beforehand,” quoted Rickie, and opened the -poems of Shelley, a man less foolish than you supposed. How pleasant -it was to read! If business worried him, if Stephen was noisy or Ansell -perverse, there still remained this paradise of books. It seemed as -if he had read nothing for two years. Then the train stopped for the -shunting, and he heard protests from minor officials who were working on -the line. They complained that some one who didn’t ought to, had mounted -on the footboard of the carriage. Stephen’s face appeared, convulsed -with laughter. With the action of a swimmer he dived in through the open -window, and fell comfortably on Rickie’s luggage and Rickie. He declared -it was the finest joke ever known. Rickie was not so sure. “You’ll be -run over next,” he said. “What did you do that for?” +directions for obtaining luncheon-baskets, and felt the texture of +the cushions. Through the windows a signal-box interested him. Then +he saw the ugly little town that was now his home, and up its chief +street the Ansells’ memorable facade. The spirit of a genial comedy +dwelt there. It was so absurd, so kindly. The house was divided against +itself and yet stood. Metaphysics, commerce, social aspirations—all +lived together in harmony. Mr. Ansell had done much, but one was +tempted to believe in a more capricious power—the power that abstains +from “nipping.” “One nips or is nipped, and never knows beforehand,” +quoted Rickie, and opened the poems of Shelley, a man less foolish than +you supposed. How pleasant it was to read! If business worried him, +if Stephen was noisy or Ansell perverse, there still remained this +paradise of books. It seemed as if he had read nothing for two years. +Then the train stopped for the shunting, and he heard protests from +minor officials who were working on the line. They complained that some +one who didn’t ought to, had mounted on the footboard of the carriage. +Stephen’s face appeared, convulsed with laughter. With the action of a +swimmer he dived in through the open window, and fell comfortably on +Rickie’s luggage and Rickie. He declared it was the finest joke ever +known. Rickie was not so sure. “You’ll be run over next,” he said. +“What did you do that for?” “I’m coming with you,” he giggled, rolling all that he could on to the dusty floor. @@ -9996,8 +10155,8 @@ holiday.” “Well, it’s execrable taste.” -Now he was waving to the Ansells, and showing them a piece of soap: -it was all his luggage, and even that he abandoned, for he flung it at +Now he was waving to the Ansells, and showing them a piece of soap: it +was all his luggage, and even that he abandoned, for he flung it at Stewart’s lofty brow. “I can’t think what you’ve done it for. You know how strongly I felt.” @@ -10008,9 +10167,9 @@ lodge gates; that kind of thing. “It’s execrable taste,” he repeated, trying to keep grave. “Well, you did all you could,” he exclaimed with sudden sympathy. -“Leaving me talking to old Ansell, you might have thought you’d got your -way. I’ve as much taste as most chaps, but, hang it! your aunt isn’t the -German Emperor. She doesn’t own Wiltshire.” +“Leaving me talking to old Ansell, you might have thought you’d got +your way. I’ve as much taste as most chaps, but, hang it! your aunt +isn’t the German Emperor. She doesn’t own Wiltshire.” “You ass!” sputtered Rickie, who had taken to laugh at nonsense again. @@ -10020,15 +10179,15 @@ maidens. “Why, we started for Wiltshire on the wet morning!” “When Stewart found us at Sawston railway station?” He smiled happily. “I never thought we should pull through.” -“Well, we DIDN’T. We never did what we meant. It’s nonsense that I +“Well, we _didn’t_. We never did what we meant. It’s nonsense that I couldn’t have managed you alone. I’ve a notion. Slip out after your dinner this evening, and we’ll get thundering tight together.” “I’ve a notion I won’t.” -“It’d do you no end of good. You’ll get to know people--shepherds, -carters--” He waved his arms vaguely, indicating democracy. “Then you’ll -sing.” +“It’d do you no end of good. You’ll get to know people—shepherds, +carters—” He waved his arms vaguely, indicating democracy. “Then +you’ll sing.” “And then?” @@ -10037,16 +10196,16 @@ sing.” “Precisely.” “But I’ll catch you,” promised Stephen. “We shall carry you up the hill -to bed. In the morning you wake, have your row with old Em’ly, she kicks -you out, we meet--we’ll meet at the Rings!” He danced up and down the -carriage. Some one in the next carriage punched at the partition, and -when this happens, all lads with mettle know that they must punch the -partition back. +to bed. In the morning you wake, have your row with old Em’ly, she +kicks you out, we meet—we’ll meet at the Rings!” He danced up and down +the carriage. Some one in the next carriage punched at the partition, +and when this happens, all lads with mettle know that they must punch +the partition back. “Thank you. I’ve a notion I won’t,” said Rickie when the noise had -subsided--subsided for a moment only, for the following conversation -took place to an accompaniment of dust and bangs. “Except as regards the -Rings. We will meet there.” +subsided—subsided for a moment only, for the following conversation +took place to an accompaniment of dust and bangs. “Except as regards +the Rings. We will meet there.” “Then I’ll get tight by myself.” @@ -10056,16 +10215,17 @@ Rings. We will meet there.” it.” “In that case, I get out at the next station.” He was laughing, but -quite determined. Stephen had grown too dictatorial of late. The Ansells -spoilt him. “It’s bad enough having you there at all. Having you there -drunk is impossible. I’d sooner not visit my aunt than think, when I sat -with her, that you’re down in the village teaching her labourers to be -as beastly as yourself. Go if you will. But not with me.” +quite determined. Stephen had grown too dictatorial of late. The +Ansells spoilt him. “It’s bad enough having you there at all. Having +you there drunk is impossible. I’d sooner not visit my aunt than think, +when I sat with her, that you’re down in the village teaching her +labourers to be as beastly as yourself. Go if you will. But not with +me.” “Why shouldn’t I have a good time while I’m young, if I don’t harm any one?” said Stephen defiantly. -“Need we discuss self.” +“Need we discuss it again? Because you harm yourself.” “Oh, I can stop myself any minute I choose. I just say ‘I won’t’ to you or any other fool, and I don’t.” @@ -10077,8 +10237,8 @@ Greeks, that your body is a temple.” “So you said in your longest letter.” “Probably I wrote like a prig, for the reason that I have never been -tempted in this way; but surely it is wrong that your body should escape -you.” +tempted in this way; but surely it is wrong that your body should +escape you.” “I don’t follow,” he retorted, punching. @@ -10105,12 +10265,12 @@ the wondering eyes of a child. Rickie nodded, and referred himself to the window. He observed that the country was smoother and more plastic. The woods -had gone, and under a pale-blue sky long contours of earth were flowing, -and merging, rising a little to bear some coronal of beeches, parting a -little to disclose some green valley, where cottages stood under elms -or beside translucent waters. It was Wiltshire at last. The train had -entered the chalk. At last it slackened at a wayside platform. Without -speaking he opened the door. +had gone, and under a pale-blue sky long contours of earth were +flowing, and merging, rising a little to bear some coronal of beeches, +parting a little to disclose some green valley, where cottages stood +under elms or beside translucent waters. It was Wiltshire at last. +The train had entered the chalk. At last it slackened at a wayside +platform. Without speaking he opened the door. “What’s that for?” @@ -10145,22 +10305,22 @@ you go back?” Somehow it pleased him that Stephen should bang him crossly with his elbow and say, “No. Get out. You’ve gone too far.” So had the train. -The porter at the end of the wayside platform slammed the door, and they -proceeded toward Salisbury through the slowly modulating downs. Rickie -pretended to read. Over the book he watched his brother’s face, and -wondered how bad temper could be consistent with a mind so radiant. In -spite of his obstinacy and conceit, Stephen was an easy person to live -with. He never fidgeted or nursed hidden grievances, or indulged in a -shoddy pride. Though he spent Rickie’s money as slowly as he could, -he asked for it without apology: “You must put it down against me,” he -would say. In time--it was still very vague--he would rent or purchase -a farm. There is no formula in which we may sum up decent people. So -Ansell had preached, and had of course proceeded to offer a formula: -“They must be serious, they must be truthful.” Serious not in the sense -of glum; but they must be convinced that our life is a state of some -importance, and our earth not a place to beat time on. Of so much -Stephen was convinced: he showed it in his work, in his play, in his -self-respect, and above all--though the fact is hard to face-in his +The porter at the end of the wayside platform slammed the door, and +they proceeded toward Salisbury through the slowly modulating downs. +Rickie pretended to read. Over the book he watched his brother’s face, +and wondered how bad temper could be consistent with a mind so radiant. +In spite of his obstinacy and conceit, Stephen was an easy person to +live with. He never fidgeted or nursed hidden grievances, or indulged +in a shoddy pride. Though he spent Rickie’s money as slowly as he +could, he asked for it without apology: “You must put it down against +me,” he would say. In time—it was still very vague—he would rent or +purchase a farm. There is no formula in which we may sum up decent +people. So Ansell had preached, and had of course proceeded to offer a +formula: “They must be serious, they must be truthful.” Serious not in +the sense of glum; but they must be convinced that our life is a state +of some importance, and our earth not a place to beat time on. Of so +much Stephen was convinced: he showed it in his work, in his play, in +his self-respect, and above all—though the fact is hard to face—in his sacred passion for alcohol. Drink, today, is an unlovely thing. Between us and the heights of Cithaeron the river of sin now flows. Yet the cries still call from the mountain, and granted a man has responded to @@ -10170,19 +10330,19 @@ them, it is better he respond with the candour of the Greek. “Prayers.” Rickie did not press his triumph, but it was a happy moment, partly -because of the triumph, partly because he was sure that his brother must -care for him. Stephen was too selfish to give up any pleasure without -grave reasons. He was certain that he had been right to disentangle -himself from Sawston, and to ignore the threats and tears that still -tempted him to return. Here there was real work for him to do. Moreover, -though he sought no reward, it had come. His health was better, his -brain sound, his life washed clean, not by the waters of sentiment, -but by the efforts of a fellow-man. Stephen was man first, brother -afterwards. Herein lay his brutality and also his virtue. “Look me in -the face. Don’t hang on me clothes that don’t belong--as you did on your -wife, giving her saint’s robes, whereas she was simply a woman of her -own sort, who needed careful watching. Tear up the photographs. Here -am I, and there are you. The rest is cant.” The rest was not cant, +because of the triumph, partly because he was sure that his brother +must care for him. Stephen was too selfish to give up any pleasure +without grave reasons. He was certain that he had been right to +disentangle himself from Sawston, and to ignore the threats and tears +that still tempted him to return. Here there was real work for him to +do. Moreover, though he sought no reward, it had come. His health was +better, his brain sound, his life washed clean, not by the waters of +sentiment, but by the efforts of a fellow-man. Stephen was man first, +brother afterwards. Herein lay his brutality and also his virtue. “Look +me in the face. Don’t hang on me clothes that don’t belong—as you did +on your wife, giving her saint’s robes, whereas she was simply a woman +of her own sort, who needed careful watching. Tear up the photographs. +Here am I, and there are you. The rest is cant.” The rest was not cant, and perhaps Stephen would confess as much in time. But Rickie needed a tonic, and a man, not a brother, must hold it to his lips. @@ -10193,8 +10353,8 @@ it again.” the world to see it again.” “Pious people. But I don’t hold with bishops.” He was young enough to -be uneasy. The cathedral, a fount of superstition, must find no place in -his life. At the age of twenty he had settled things. +be uneasy. The cathedral, a fount of superstition, must find no place +in his life. At the age of twenty he had settled things. “I’ve got my own philosophy,” he once told Ansell, “and I don’t care a straw about yours.” Ansell’s mirth had annoyed him not a little. And @@ -10233,11 +10393,11 @@ He wished they were driving out, instead of waiting for the Cadchurch train. They had advanced into Salisbury, and the cathedral, a public building, -was grey against a tender sky. Rickie suggested that, while waiting -for the train, they should visit it. He spoke of the incomparable north -porch. “I’ve never been inside it, and I never will. Sorry to shock you, -Rickie, but I must tell you plainly. I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in -anything.” +was grey against a tender sky. Rickie suggested that, while waiting for +the train, they should visit it. He spoke of the incomparable north +porch. “I’ve never been inside it, and I never will. Sorry to shock +you, Rickie, but I must tell you plainly. I’m an atheist. I don’t +believe in anything.” “I do,” said Rickie. @@ -10247,11 +10407,11 @@ caused them to alter their plans. They found outside the station a trap driven by a small boy, who had come in from Cadford to fetch some wire-netting. “That’ll do us,” said -Stephen, and called to the boy, “If I pay your railway-ticket back, and -if I give you sixpence as well, will you let us drive back in the +Stephen, and called to the boy, “If I pay your railway-ticket back, +and if I give you sixpence as well, will you let us drive back in the trap?” The boy said no. “It will be all right,” said Rickie. “I am Mrs. Failing’s nephew.” The boy shook his head. “And you know Mr. Wonham?” - The boy couldn’t say he didn’t. “Then what’s your objection? Why? What +The boy couldn’t say he didn’t. “Then what’s your objection? Why? What is it? Why not?” But Stephen leant against the time-tables and spoke of other matters. @@ -10263,39 +10423,39 @@ Mr. Wonham?” “I heard him right enough.” Now Stephen laid his hand on the splash-board, saying, “What I want, -though, is this trap here of yours, see, to drive in back myself;” and -as he spoke the bystander followed him in canon, “What he wants, though, -is that there trap of yours, see, to drive hisself back in.” +though, is this trap here of yours, see, to drive in back myself;” +and as he spoke the bystander followed him in canon, “What he wants, +though, is that there trap of yours, see, to drive hisself back in.” -“I’ve no objection,” said the boy, as if deeply offended. For a time he +“_I’ve_ no objection,” said the boy, as if deeply offended. For a time he sat motionless, and then got down, remarking, “I won’t rob you of your sixpence.” “Silly little fool,” snapped Rickie, as they drove through the town. -Stephen looked surprised. “What’s wrong with the boy? He had to think it -over. No one had asked him to do such a thing before. Next time he’d let -us have the trap quick enough.” +Stephen looked surprised. “What’s wrong with the boy? He had to think +it over. No one had asked him to do such a thing before. Next time he’d +let us have the trap quick enough.” “Not if he had driven in for a cabbage instead of wire-netting.” “He never would drive in for a cabbage.” Rickie shuffled his feet. But his irritation passed. He saw that the -little incident had been a quiet challenge to the civilization that he -had known. “Organize.” “Systematize.” “Fill up every moment,” “Induce -esprit de corps.” He reviewed the watchwords of the last two years, -and found that they ignored personal contest, personal truces, personal -love. By following them Sawston School had lost its quiet usefulness -and become a frothy sea, wherein plunged Dunwood House, that unnecessary -ship. Humbled, he turned to Stephen and said, “No, you’re right. Nothing -is wrong with the boy. He was honestly thinking it out.” But Stephen had -forgotten the incident, or else he was not inclined to talk about it. -His assertive fit was over. +little incident had been a quiet challenge to the civilization that +he had known. “Organize.” “Systematize.” “Fill up every moment,” +“Induce _esprit de corps_.” He reviewed the watchwords of the last two +years, and found that they ignored personal contest, personal truces, +personal love. By following them Sawston School had lost its quiet +usefulness and become a frothy sea, wherein plunged Dunwood House, that +unnecessary ship. Humbled, he turned to Stephen and said, “No, you’re +right. Nothing is wrong with the boy. He was honestly thinking it out.” +But Stephen had forgotten the incident, or else he was not inclined to +talk about it. His assertive fit was over. The direct road from Salisbury to Cadover is extremely dull. The -city--which God intended to keep by the river; did she not move there, -being thirsty, in the reign of William Rufus?--the city had strayed out +city—which God intended to keep by the river; did she not move there, +being thirsty, in the reign of William Rufus?—the city had strayed out of her own plain, climbed up her slopes, and tumbled over them in ugly cataracts of brick. The cataracts are still short, and doubtless they meet or create some commercial need. But instead of looking towards @@ -10306,20 +10466,21 @@ earth, and the sentiments she has decreed. They are the modern spirit. Through them the road descends into an unobtrusive country where, nevertheless, the power of the earth grows stronger. Streams do divide. Distances do still exist. It is easier to know the men in your valley -than those who live in the next, across a waste of down. It is easier to -know men well. The country is not paradise, and can show the vices that -grieve a good man everywhere. But there is room in it, and leisure. - -“I suppose,” said Rickie as the twilight fell, “this kind of thing is -going on all over England.” Perhaps he meant that towns are after all -excrescences, grey fluxions, where men, hurrying to find one another, -have lost themselves. But he got no response, and expected none. Turning -round in his seat, he watched the winter sun slide out of a quiet sky. -The horizon was primrose, and the earth against it gave momentary hints -of purple. All faded: no pageant would conclude the gracious day, and -when he turned eastward the night was already established. - -“Those verlands--” said Stephen, scarcely above his breath. +than those who live in the next, across a waste of down. It is easier +to know men well. The country is not paradise, and can show the vices +that grieve a good man everywhere. But there is room in it, and leisure. + +“I suppose,” said Rickie as the twilight fell, “this kind of thing +is going on all over England.” Perhaps he meant that towns are after +all excrescences, grey fluxions, where men, hurrying to find one +another, have lost themselves. But he got no response, and expected +none. Turning round in his seat, he watched the winter sun slide out +of a quiet sky. The horizon was primrose, and the earth against it +gave momentary hints of purple. All faded: no pageant would conclude +the gracious day, and when he turned eastward the night was already +established. + +“Those verlands—” said Stephen, scarcely above his breath. “What are verlands?” @@ -10340,8 +10501,8 @@ said, “I expect that some time or other I shall marry.” “I expect you will,” said Rickie, and wondered a little why the reply seemed not abrupt. “Would we see the Rings in the daytime from here?” -“(We do see them.) But Mrs. Failing once said no decent woman would have -me.” +“(We do see them.) But Mrs. Failing once said no decent woman would +have me.” “Did you agree to that?” @@ -10351,43 +10512,44 @@ The horse went slowly forward into the wilderness, that turned from brown to black. Then a luminous glimmer surrounded them, and the air grew cooler: the road was descending between parapets of chalk. -“But, Rickie, mightn’t I find a girl--naturally not refined--and be +“But, Rickie, mightn’t I find a girl—naturally not refined—and be happy with her in my own way? I would tell her straight I was nothing -much--faithful, of course, but that she should never have all my +much—faithful, of course, but that she should never have all my thoughts. Out of no disrespect to her, but because all one’s thoughts can’t belong to any single person.” -While he spoke even the road vanished, and invisible water came gurgling -through the wheel-spokes. The horse had chosen the ford. “You can’t own -people. At least a fellow can’t. It may be different for a poet. (Let -the horse drink.) And I want to marry some one, and don’t yet know who -she is, which a poet again will tell you is disgusting. Does it disgust -you? Being nothing much, surely I’d better go gently. For it’s something -rather outside that makes one marry, if you follow me: not exactly -oneself. (Don’t hurry the horse.) We want to marry, and yet--I can’t -explain. I fancy I’ll go wading: this is our stream.” - -Romantic love is greater than this. There are men and women--we know it -from history--who have been born into the world for each other, and for +While he spoke even the road vanished, and invisible water came +gurgling through the wheel-spokes. The horse had chosen the ford. “You +can’t own people. At least a fellow can’t. It may be different for a +poet. (Let the horse drink.) And I want to marry some one, and don’t +yet know who she is, which a poet again will tell you is disgusting. +Does it disgust you? Being nothing much, surely I’d better go gently. +For it’s something rather outside that makes one marry, if you follow +me: not exactly oneself. (Don’t hurry the horse.) We want to marry, and +yet—I can’t explain. I fancy I’ll go wading: this is our stream.” + +Romantic love is greater than this. There are men and women—we know it +from history—who have been born into the world for each other, and for no one else, who have accomplished the longest journey locked in each other’s arms. But romantic love is also the code of modern morals, and, -for this reason, popular. Eternal union, eternal ownership--these are +for this reason, popular. Eternal union, eternal ownership—these are tempting baits for the average man. He swallows them, will not confess -his mistake, and--perhaps to cover it--cries “dirty cynic” at such a man -as Stephen. +his mistake, and—perhaps to cover it—cries “dirty cynic” at such a +man as Stephen. Rickie watched the black earth unite to the black sky. But the sky overhead grew clearer, and in it twinkled the Plough and the central stars. He thought of his brother’s future and of his own past, and of -how much truth might lie in that antithesis of Ansell’s: “A man wants to -love mankind, a woman wants to love one man.” At all events, he and his -wife had illustrated it, and perhaps the conflict, so tragic in their -own case, was elsewhere the salt of the world. Meanwhile Stephen called -from the water for matches: there was some trick with paper which Mr. -Failing had showed him, and which he would show Rickie now, instead of -talking nonsense. Bending down, he illuminated the dimpled surface of -the ford. “Quite a current.” he said, and his face flickered out in the -darkness. “Yes, give me the loose paper, quick! Crumple it into a ball.” +how much truth might lie in that antithesis of Ansell’s: “A man wants +to love mankind, a woman wants to love one man.” At all events, he and +his wife had illustrated it, and perhaps the conflict, so tragic in +their own case, was elsewhere the salt of the world. Meanwhile Stephen +called from the water for matches: there was some trick with paper +which Mr. Failing had showed him, and which he would show Rickie now, +instead of talking nonsense. Bending down, he illuminated the dimpled +surface of the ford. “Quite a current,” he said, and his face flickered +out in the darkness. “Yes, give me the loose paper, quick! Crumple it +into a ball.” Rickie obeyed, though intent on the transfigured face. He believed that a new spirit dwelt there, expelling the crudities of youth. He @@ -10398,7 +10560,7 @@ great passion: had Stephen’s waited for the touch of the years? But they played as boys who continued the nonsense of the railway carriage. The paper caught fire from the match, and spread into a rose of flame. “Now gently with me,” said Stephen, and they laid it -flowerlike on the stream. Gravel and tremulous weeds leapt into sight, +flower-like on the stream. Gravel and tremulous weeds leapt into sight, and then the flower sailed into deep water, and up leapt the two arches of a bridge. “It’ll strike!” they cried; “no, it won’t; it’s chosen the left,” and one arch became a fairy tunnel, dropping diamonds. Then it @@ -10407,29 +10569,32 @@ it was still afloat, far through the arch, burning as if it would burn forever. + + XXXIV -The carriage that Mrs. Failing had sent to meet her nephew returned from -Cadchurch station empty. She was preparing for a solitary dinner when -he somehow arrived, full of apologies, but more sedate than she had -expected. She cut his explanations short. “Never mind how you got here. -You are here, and I am quite pleased to see you.” He changed his clothes -and they proceeded to the dining-room. + +The carriage that Mrs. Failing had sent to meet her nephew returned +from Cadchurch station empty. She was preparing for a solitary dinner +when he somehow arrived, full of apologies, but more sedate than she +had expected. She cut his explanations short. “Never mind how you got +here. You are here, and I am quite pleased to see you.” He changed his +clothes and they proceeded to the dining-room. There was a bright fire, but the curtains were not drawn. Mr. Failing -had believed that windows with the night behind are more beautiful than -any pictures, and his widow had kept to the custom. It was brave of her -to persevere, lumps of chalk having come out of the night last June. For -some obscure reason--not so obscure to Rickie--she had preserved them -as mementoes of an episode. Seeing them in a row on the mantelpiece, -he expected that their first topic would be Stephen. But they never -mentioned him, though he was latent in all that they said. +had believed that windows with the night behind are more beautiful +than any pictures, and his widow had kept to the custom. It was brave +of her to persevere, lumps of chalk having come out of the night last +June. For some obscure reason—not so obscure to Rickie—she had +preserved them as mementoes of an episode. Seeing them in a row on the +mantelpiece, he expected that their first topic would be Stephen. But +they never mentioned him, though he was latent in all that they said. It was of Mr. Failing that they spoke. The Essays had been a success. She was really pleased. The book was brought in at her request, and between the courses she read it aloud to her nephew, in her soft yet -unsympathetic voice. Then she sent for the press notices--after all -no one despises them--and read their comments on her introduction. She +unsympathetic voice. Then she sent for the press notices—after all no +one despises them—and read their comments on her introduction. She wielded a graceful pen, was apt, adequate, suggestive, indispensable, unnecessary. So the meal passed pleasantly away, for no one could so well combine the formal with the unconventional, and it only seemed @@ -10441,8 +10606,8 @@ out of him that you like. Read ‘The True Patriot.’” He took the book and found: “Let us love one another. Let our children, physical and spiritual, love one another. It is all that we can do. Perhaps the earth will neglect our love. Perhaps she will confirm it, -and suffer some rallying-point, spire, mound, for the new generations to -cherish.” +and suffer some rallying-point, spire, mound, for the new generations +to cherish.” “He wrote that when he was young. Later on he doubted whether we had better love one another, or whether the earth will confirm anything. He @@ -10451,8 +10616,8 @@ died a most unhappy man.” He could not help saying, “Not knowing that the earth had confirmed him.” -“Has she? It is quite possible. We meet so seldom in these days, she and -I. Do you see much of the earth?” +“Has she? It is quite possible. We meet so seldom in these days, she +and I. Do you see much of the earth?” “A little.” @@ -10464,56 +10629,56 @@ I. Do you see much of the earth?” “I think not.” -“Beware of her, surely. Going back to her really is going back--throwing -away the artificiality which (though you young people won’t confess it) -is the only good thing in life. Don’t pretend you are simple. Once I -pretended. Don’t pretend that you care for anything but for clever talk -such as this, and for books.” +“Beware of her, surely. Going back to her really is going +back—throwing away the artificiality which (though you young people +won’t confess it) is the only good thing in life. Don’t pretend you are +simple. Once I pretended. Don’t pretend that you care for anything but +for clever talk such as this, and for books.” “The talk,” said Leighton afterwards, “certainly was clever. But it meant something, all the same.” He heard no more, for his mistress told him to retire. -“And my nephew, this being so, make up your quarrel with your wife.” She -stretched out her hand to him with real feeling. “It is easier now than -it will be later. Poor lady, she has written to me foolishly and often, -but, on the whole, I side with her against you. She would grant you all -that you fought for--all the people, all the theories. I have it, in her -writing, that she will never interfere with your life again.” +“And my nephew, this being so, make up your quarrel with your wife.” +She stretched out her hand to him with real feeling. “It is easier now +than it will be later. Poor lady, she has written to me foolishly and +often, but, on the whole, I side with her against you. She would grant +you all that you fought for—all the people, all the theories. I have +it, in her writing, that she will never interfere with your life again.” “She cannot help interfering,” said Rickie, with his eyes on the black windows. “She despises me. Besides, I do not love her.” “I know, my dear. Nor she you. I am not being sentimental. I say once more, beware of the earth. We are conventional people, and -conventions--if you will but see it--are majestic in their way, and -will claim us in the end. We do not live for great passions or for great -memories, or for anything great.” +conventions—if you will but see it—are majestic in their way, and +will claim us in the end. We do not live for great passions or for +great memories, or for anything great.” He threw up his head. “We do.” “Now listen to me. I am serious and friendly tonight, as you must have -observed. I have asked you here partly to amuse myself--you belong to -my March Past--but also to give you good advice. There has been a -volcano--a phenomenon which I too once greatly admired. The eruption is -over. Let the conventions do their work now, and clear the rubbish away. -My age is fifty-nine, and I tell you solemnly that the important things -in life are little things, and that people are not important at all. Go -back to your wife.” +observed. I have asked you here partly to amuse myself—you belong +to my March Past—but also to give you good advice. There has been a +volcano—a phenomenon which I too once greatly admired. The eruption +is over. Let the conventions do their work now, and clear the rubbish +away. My age is fifty-nine, and I tell you solemnly that the important +things in life are little things, and that people are not important at +all. Go back to your wife.” He looked at her, and was filled with pity. He knew that he would never be frightened of her again. Only because she was serious and friendly did he trouble himself to reply. “There is one little fact I should -like to tell you, as confuting your theory. The idea of a story--a long -story--had been in my head for a year. As a dream to amuse myself--the -kind of amusement you would recommend for the future. I should have had -time to write it, but the people round me coloured my life, and so it -never seemed worth while. For the story is not likely to pay. Then came -the volcano. A few days after it was over I lay in bed looking out upon -a world of rubbish. Two men I know--one intellectual, the other very -much the reverse--burst into the room. They said, ‘What happened to -your short stories? They weren’t good, but where are they? Why have you -stopped writing? Why haven’t you been to Italy? You must write. You +like to tell you, as confuting your theory. The idea of a story—a long +story—had been in my head for a year. As a dream to amuse myself—the +kind of amusement you would recommend for the future. I should have +had time to write it, but the people round me coloured my life, and so +it never seemed worth while. For the story is not likely to pay. Then +came the volcano. A few days after it was over I lay in bed looking out +upon a world of rubbish. Two men I know—one intellectual, the other +very much the reverse—burst into the room. They said, ‘What happened +to your short stories? They weren’t good, but where are they? Why have +you stopped writing? Why haven’t you been to Italy? You must write. You must go. Because to write, to go, is you.’ Well, I have written, and yesterday we sent the long story out on its rounds. The men do not like it, for different reasons. But it mattered very much to them that I @@ -10531,10 +10696,10 @@ had not the money. “About a man and a woman who meet and are happy.” -“Somewhat of a tour de force, I conclude.” +“Somewhat of a _tour de force_, I conclude.” -He frowned. “In literature we needn’t intrude our own limitations. -I’m not so silly as to think that all marriages turn out like mine. My +He frowned. “In literature we needn’t intrude our own limitations. I’m +not so silly as to think that all marriages turn out like mine. My character is to blame for our catastrophe, not marriage.” “My dear, I too have married; marriage is to blame.” @@ -10547,8 +10712,10 @@ And are happy.” “Yes.” -“Because, as we used to say at Cambridge, the cow is there. The world is -real again. This is a room, that a window, outside is the night.” +“Why?” + +“Because, as we used to say at Cambridge, the cow is there. The world +is real again. This is a room, that a window, outside is the night—” “Go on.” @@ -10563,23 +10730,23 @@ until we reach the sun. But breakfast will be at nine as usual. Good-night.” She rang the bell twice, and her maid came with her candle and her -walking-stick: it was her habit of late to go to her room as soon as -dinner was over, for she had no one to sit up with. Rickie was impressed -by her loneliness, and also by the mixture in her of insight and -obtuseness. She was so quick, so clear-headed, so imaginative even. +walking-stick: it was her habit of late to go to her room as soon +as dinner was over, for she had no one to sit up with. Rickie was +impressed by her loneliness, and also by the mixture in her of insight +and obtuseness. She was so quick, so clear-headed, so imaginative even. But all the same, she had forgotten what people were like. Finding life dull, she had dropped lies into it, as a chemist drops a new element into a solution, hoping that life would thereby sparkle or turn some beautiful colour. She loved to mislead others, and in the end her -private view of false and true was obscured, and she misled herself. How -she must have enjoyed their errors over Stephen! But her own error had -been greater, inasmuch as it was spiritual entirely. +private view of false and true was obscured, and she misled herself. +How she must have enjoyed their errors over Stephen! But her own error +had been greater, inasmuch as it was spiritual entirely. Leighton came in with some coffee. Feeling it unnecessary to light the -drawing-room lamp for one small young man, he persuaded Rickie to say he -preferred the dining-room. So Rickie sat down by the fire playing with -one of the lumps of chalk. His thoughts went back to the ford, from -which they had scarcely wandered. Still he heard the horse in the +drawing-room lamp for one small young man, he persuaded Rickie to say +he preferred the dining-room. So Rickie sat down by the fire playing +with one of the lumps of chalk. His thoughts went back to the ford, +from which they had scarcely wandered. Still he heard the horse in the dark drinking, still he saw the mystic rose, and the tunnel dropping diamonds. He had driven away alone, believing the earth had confirmed him. He stood behind things at last, and knew that conventions are not @@ -10587,20 +10754,21 @@ majestic, and that they will not claim us in the end. As he mused, the chalk slipped from his fingers, and fell on the coffee-cup, which broke. The china, said Leighton, was expensive. He -believed it was impossible to match it now. Each cup was different. It -was a harlequin set. The saucer, without the cup, was therefore useless. -Would Mr. Elliot please explain to Mrs. Failing how it happened. +believed it was impossible to match it now. Each cup was different. +It was a harlequin set. The saucer, without the cup, was therefore +useless. Would Mr. Elliot please explain to Mrs. Failing how it +happened. Rickie promised he would explain. He had left Stephen preparing to bathe, and had heard him working up-stream like an animal, splashing in the shallows, breathing heavily as he swam the pools; at times reeds snapped, or clods of earth were -pulled in. By the fire he remembered it was again November. “Should you -like a walk?” he asked Leighton, and told him who stopped in the village -tonight. Leighton was pleased. At nine o’clock the two young men left -the house, under a sky that was still only bright in the zenith. “It -will rain tomorrow,” Leighton said. +pulled in. By the fire he remembered it was again November. “Should +you like a walk?” he asked Leighton, and told him who stopped in the +village tonight. Leighton was pleased. At nine o’clock the two young +men left the house, under a sky that was still only bright in the +zenith. “It will rain tomorrow,” Leighton said. “My brother says, fine tomorrow.” @@ -10608,16 +10776,16 @@ will rain tomorrow,” Leighton said. “Now which do you mean?” asked Rickie, laughing. -Since the plumes of the fir-trees touched over the drive, only a very -little light penetrated. It was clearer outside the lodge gate, and -bubbles of air, which Wiltshire seemed to have travelled from an immense +Since the plumes of the fir-trees touched over the drive, only a +very little light penetrated. It was clearer outside the lodge gate, +and bubbles of air, which seemed to have travelled from an immense distance, broke gently and separately on his face. They paused on the -bridge. He asked whether the little fish and the bright green weeds were -here now as well as in the summer. The footman had not noticed. Over the -bridge they came to the cross-roads, of which one led to Salisbury and -the other up through the string of villages to the railway station. -The road in front was only the Roman road, the one that went on to the -downs. Turning to the left, they were in Cadford. +bridge. He asked whether the little fish and the bright green weeds +were here now as well as in the summer. The footman had not noticed. +Over the bridge they came to the cross-roads, of which one led to +Salisbury and the other up through the string of villages to the +railway station. The road in front was only the Roman road, the one +that went on to the downs. Turning to the left, they were in Cadford. “He will be with the Thompsons,” said Rickie, looking up at dark eaves. “Perhaps he’s in bed already.” @@ -10639,10 +10807,10 @@ windows.” “Five families were turned out.” “That’s bad for Stephen,” said Rickie, after a pause. “He was looking -forward--oh, it’s monstrous in any case!” +forward—oh, it’s monstrous in any case!” “But the Thompsons have gone to London,” said Leighton. “Why, that -family--they say it’s been in the valley hundreds of years, and never +family—they say it’s been in the valley hundreds of years, and never got beyond shepherding. To various parts of London.” “Let us try The Antelope, then.” @@ -10650,16 +10818,16 @@ got beyond shepherding. To various parts of London.” “Let us try The Antelope.” The inn lay up in the village. Rickie hastened his pace. This tyranny -was monstrous. Some men of the age of undergraduates had broken windows, -and therefore they and their families were to be ruined. The fools who -govern us find it easier to be severe. It saves them trouble to say, -“The innocent must suffer with the guilty.” It even gives them a thrill -of pride. Against all this wicked nonsense, against the Wilbrahams and -Pembrokes who try to rule our world Stephen would fight till he died. -Stephen was a hero. He was a law to himself, and rightly. He was great -enough to despise our small moralities. He was attaining love. This -evening Rickie caught Ansell’s enthusiasm, and felt it worth while to -sacrifice everything for such a man. +was monstrous. Some men of the age of undergraduates had broken +windows, and therefore they and their families were to be ruined. The +fools who govern us find it easier to be severe. It saves them trouble +to say, “The innocent must suffer with the guilty.” It even gives +them a thrill of pride. Against all this wicked nonsense, against the +Wilbrahams and Pembrokes who try to rule our world Stephen would fight +till he died. Stephen was a hero. He was a law to himself, and rightly. +He was great enough to despise our small moralities. He was attaining +love. This evening Rickie caught Ansell’s enthusiasm, and felt it worth +while to sacrifice everything for such a man. “The Antelope,” said Leighton. “Those lights under the greatest elm.” @@ -10669,7 +10837,7 @@ me. I don’t think I’ll go in.” Leighton opened the door. They saw a little room, blue with tobacco-smoke. Flanking the fire were deep settles hiding all but the legs of the men who lounged in them. Between the settles stood a table, -covered with mugs and glasses. The scene was picturesque--fairer than +covered with mugs and glasses. The scene was picturesque—fairer than the cutglass palaces of the town. “Oh yes, he’s there,” he called, and after a moment’s hesitation came @@ -10689,7 +10857,7 @@ Leighton shut the door. “What was that he called after you?” -“Oh, nothing. A man when he’s drunk--he says the worst he’s ever heard. +“Oh, nothing. A man when he’s drunk—he says the worst he’s ever heard. At least, so they say.” “A man when he’s drunk?” @@ -10700,16 +10868,16 @@ At least, so they say.” “No, no.” -“He couldn’t be. If he broke a promise--I don’t pretend he’s a saint. I +“He couldn’t be. If he broke a promise—I don’t pretend he’s a saint. I don’t want him one. But it isn’t in him to break a promise.” “Yes, sir; I understand.” -“In the train he promised me not to drink--nothing theatrical: just a +“In the train he promised me not to drink—nothing theatrical: just a promise for these few days.” -“No, sir.” “‘No, sir,’” stamped Rickie. “‘Yes! no! yes!’ Can’t you speak -out? Is he drunk or isn’t he?” +“No, sir.” “‘No, sir,’” stamped Rickie. “‘Yes! no! yes!’ Can’t you +speak out? Is he drunk or isn’t he?” Leighton, justly exasperated, cried, “He can’t stand, and I’ve told you so again and again.” @@ -10741,9 +10909,9 @@ was ruined. friends. Mr. Elliot, sir, don’t break down. Nothing’s happened bad. No one’s died yet, or even hurt themselves.” Ever kind, he took hold of Rickie’s arm, and, pitying such a nervous fellow, set out with him for -home. The shoulders of Orion rose behind them over the topmost boughs of -the elm. From the bridge the whole constellation was visible, and Rickie -said, “May God receive me and pardon me for trusting the earth.” +home. The shoulders of Orion rose behind them over the topmost boughs +of the elm. From the bridge the whole constellation was visible, and +Rickie said, “May God receive me and pardon me for trusting the earth.” “But, Mr. Elliot, what have you done that’s wrong?” @@ -10751,8 +10919,8 @@ said, “May God receive me and pardon me for trusting the earth.” people were real. May God have mercy on me!” Leighton dropped his arm. Though he did not understand, a chill of -disgust passed over him, and he said, “I will go back to The Antelope. I -will help them put Stephen to bed.” +disgust passed over him, and he said, “I will go back to The Antelope. +I will help them put Stephen to bed.” “Do. I will wait for you here.” Then he leant against the parapet and prayed passionately, for he knew that the conventions would claim him @@ -10764,9 +10932,9 @@ would claim him and corrupt him and make him what he had been; and the woman he loved would die out, in drunkenness, in debauchery, and her strength would be dissipated by a man, her beauty defiled in a man. She would not continue. That mystic rose and the face it illumined meant -nothing. The stream--he was above it now--meant nothing, though it +nothing. The stream—he was above it now—meant nothing, though it burst from the pure turf and ran for ever to the sea. The bather, the -shoulders of Orion-they all meant nothing, and were going nowhere. The +shoulders of Orion—they all meant nothing, and were going nowhere. The whole affair was a ridiculous dream. Leighton returned, saying, “Haven’t you seen Stephen? They say he @@ -10778,9 +10946,9 @@ leant on the gate to watch a slow goods train pass. In the glare of the engine he saw that his brother had come this way, perhaps through some sodden memory of the Rings, and now lay drunk over the rails. Wearily he did a man’s duty. There was time to raise him up and push him into -safety. It is also a man’s duty to save his own life, and therefore he -tried. The train went over his knees. He died up in Cadover, whispering, -“You have been right,” to Mrs. Failing. +safety. It is also a man’s duty to save his own life, and therefore +he tried. The train went over his knees. He died up in Cadover, +whispering, “You have been right,” to Mrs. Failing. She wrote of him to Mrs. Lewin afterwards as “one who has failed in all he undertook; one of the thousands whose dust returns to the dust, @@ -10790,8 +10958,10 @@ The other, who was always honest, kept away.” + XXXV + From the window they looked over a sober valley, whose sides were not too sloping to be ploughed, and whose trend was followed by a grass-grown track. It was late on Sunday afternoon, and the valley was @@ -10801,15 +10971,15 @@ behind, but the ring-doves, who roost early, were already silent. Since the window opened westward, the room was flooded with light, and Stephen, finding it hot, was working in his shirtsleeves. -“You guarantee they’ll sell?” he asked, with a pen between his teeth. He -was tidying up a pile of manuscripts. +“You guarantee they’ll sell?” he asked, with a pen between his teeth. +He was tidying up a pile of manuscripts. “I guarantee that the world will be the gainer,” said Mr. Pembroke, now a clergyman, who sat beside him at the table with an expression of refined disapproval on his face. “I’d got the idea that the long story had its points, but that these -shorter things didn’t--what’s the word?” +shorter things didn’t—what’s the word?” “‘Convince’ is probably the word you want. But that type of criticism is quite a thing of the past. Have you seen the illustrated American @@ -10824,30 +10994,30 @@ some trees, and thither, through a cloudless sky, the sun was also descending. “Is all quite plain?” said Mr. Pembroke. “Submit these ten stories to -the magazines, and make your own terms with the editors. Then--I have -your word for it--you will join forces with me; and the four stories in +the magazines, and make your own terms with the editors. Then—I have +your word for it—you will join forces with me; and the four stories in my possession, together with yours, should make up a volume, which we might well call ‘Pan Pipes.’” -“Are you sure `Pan Pipes’ haven’t been used up already?” +“Are you sure ‘Pan Pipes’ haven’t been used up already?” Mr. Pembroke clenched his teeth. He had been bearing with this sort of thing for nearly an hour. “If that is the case, we can select another. A title is easy to come by. But that is the idea it must suggest. The stories, as I have twice explained to you, all centre round a Nature -theme. Pan, being the god of--” +theme. Pan, being the god of—” “I know that,” said Stephen impatiently. -“--Being the god of--” +“—Being the god of—” “All right. Let’s get furrard. I’ve learnt that.” It was years since the schoolmaster had been interrupted, and he could -not stand it. “Very well,” he said. “I bow to your superior knowledge of -the classics. Let us proceed.” +not stand it. “Very well,” he said. “I bow to your superior knowledge +of the classics. Let us proceed.” -“Oh yes the introduction. There must be one. It was the introduction +“Oh yes—the introduction. There must be one. It was the introduction with all those wrong details that sold the other book.” “You overwhelm me. I never penned the memoir with that intention.” @@ -10874,7 +11044,7 @@ lick them brown.” “It never did me any harm. Come up! Your tongue’s dirty.” -“Can I--” She was understood to ask whether she could clean her tongue +“Can I—” She was understood to ask whether she could clean her tongue on a lollie. “No, no!” said Mr. Pembroke. “Lollipops don’t clean little girls’ @@ -10885,35 +11055,35 @@ his knee, and rasped her tongue with his handkerchief. “Dear little thing,” said the visitor perfunctorily. The child began to squall, and kicked her father in the stomach. Stephen regarded her -quietly. “You tried to hurt me,” he said. “Hurting doesn’t count. Trying -to hurt counts. Go and clean your tongue yourself. Get off my knee.” - Tears of another sort came into her eyes, but she obeyed him. “How’s the -great Bertie?” he asked. +quietly. “You tried to hurt me,” he said. “Hurting doesn’t count. +Trying to hurt counts. Go and clean your tongue yourself. Get off my +knee.” Tears of another sort came into her eyes, but she obeyed him. +“How’s the great Bertie?” he asked. “Thank you. My nephew is perfectly well. How came you to hear of his existence?” “Through the Silts, of course. It isn’t five miles to Cadover.” -Mr. Pembroke raised his eyes mournfully. “I cannot conceive how the poor -Silts go on in that great house. Whatever she intended, it could not -have been that. The house, the farm, the money,--everything down to the -personal articles that belong to Mr. Failing, and should have reverted -to his family!” +Mr. Pembroke raised his eyes mournfully. “I cannot conceive how the +poor Silts go on in that great house. Whatever she intended, it could +not have been that. The house, the farm, the money,—everything down +to the personal articles that belong to Mr. Failing, and should have +reverted to his family!” -“It’s legal. Interstate succession.” +“It’s legal. Intestate succession.” “I do not dispute it. But it is a lesson to one to make a will. Mrs. Keynes and myself were electrified.” -“They’ll do there. They offered me the agency, but--” He looked down +“They’ll do there. They offered me the agency, but—” He looked down the cultivated slopes. His manners were growing rough, for he saw few gentlemen now, and he was either incoherent or else alarmingly direct. -“However, if Lawrie Silt’s a Cockney like his father, and if my next is -a boy and like me--” A shy beautiful look came into his eyes, and passed -unnoticed. “They’ll do,” he repeated. “They turned out Wilbraham and -built new cottages, and bridged the railway, and made other necessary -alterations.” There was a moment’s silence. +“However, if Lawrie Silt’s a Cockney like his father, and if my next +is a boy and like me—” A shy beautiful look came into his eyes, and +passed unnoticed. “They’ll do,” he repeated. “They turned out Wilbraham +and built new cottages, and bridged the railway, and made other +necessary alterations.” There was a moment’s silence. Mr. Pembroke took out his watch. “I wonder if I might have the trap? I mustn’t miss my train, must I? It is good of you to have granted me an @@ -10921,60 +11091,61 @@ interview. It is all quite plain?” “Yes.” -“A case of half and half-division of profits.” +“A case of half and half—division of profits.” -“Half and half?” said the young farmer slowly. “What do you take me for? -Half and half, when I provide ten of the stories and you only four?” +“Half and half?” said the young farmer slowly. “What do you take me +for? Half and half, when I provide ten of the stories and you only +four?” -“I--I--” stammered Mr. Pembroke. +“I—I—” stammered Mr. Pembroke. “I consider you did me over the long story, and I’m damned if you do me over the short ones!” -“Hush! if you please, hush!--if only for your little girl’s sake.” +“Hush! if you please, hush!—if only for your little girl’s sake.” He lifted a clerical palm. “You did me,” his voice drove, “and all the thirty-nine Articles won’t stop me saying so. That long story was meant to be mine. I got it -written. You’ve done me out of every penny it fetched. It’s dedicated to -me--flat out--and you even crossed out the dedication and tidied me out -of the introduction. Listen to me, Pembroke. You’ve done people all your -life--I think without knowing it, but that won’t comfort us. A wretched -devil at your school once wrote to me, and he’d been done. Sham food, -sham religion, sham straight talks--and when he broke down, you said it -was the world in miniature.” He snatched at him roughly. “But I’ll show -you the world.” He twisted him round like a baby, and through the open -door they saw only the quiet valley, but in it a rivulet that would -in time bring its waters to the sea. “Look even at that--and up behind -where the Plain begins and you get on the solid chalk--think of us -riding some night when you’re ordering your hot bottle--that’s the -world, and there’s no miniature world. There’s one world, Pembroke, and -you can’t tidy men out of it. They answer you back do you hear?--they -answer back if you do them. If you tell a man this way that four sheep -equal ten, he answers back you’re a liar.” - -Mr. Pembroke was speechless, and--such is human nature--he chiefly +written. You’ve done me out of every penny it fetched. It’s dedicated +to me—flat out—and you even crossed out the dedication and tidied me +out of the introduction. Listen to me, Pembroke. You’ve done people +all your life—I think without knowing it, but that won’t comfort us. +A wretched devil at your school once wrote to me, and he’d been done. +Sham food, sham religion, sham straight talks—and when he broke down, +you said it was the world in miniature.” He snatched at him roughly. +“But I’ll show you the world.” He twisted him round like a baby, and +through the open door they saw only the quiet valley, but in it a +rivulet that would in time bring its waters to the sea. “Look even at +that—and up behind where the Plain begins and you get on the solid +chalk—think of us riding some night when you’re ordering your hot +bottle—that’s the world, and there’s no miniature world. There’s one +world, Pembroke, and you can’t tidy men out of it. They answer you back +do you hear?—they answer back if you do them. If you tell a man this +way that four sheep equal ten, he answers back you’re a liar.” + +Mr. Pembroke was speechless, and—such is human nature—he chiefly resented the allusion to the hot bottle; an unmanly luxury in which he -never indulged; contenting himself with nightsocks. “Enough--there is no -witness present--as you have doubtless observed.” But there was. For a -little voice cried, “Oh, mummy, they’re fighting--such fun--” and feet -went pattering up the stairs. “Enough. You talk of ‘doing,’ but what -about the money out of which you ‘did’ my sister? What about this -picture”--he pointed to a faded photograph of Stockholm--“which you -caused to be filched from the walls of my house? What about--enough! +never indulged; contenting himself with nightsocks. “Enough—there is +no witness present—as you have doubtless observed.” But there was. For +a little voice cried, “Oh, mummy, they’re fighting—such fun—” and +feet went pattering up the stairs. “Enough. You talk of ‘doing,’ but +what about the money out of which you ‘did’ my sister? What about this +picture”—he pointed to a faded photograph of Stockholm—“which you +caused to be filched from the walls of my house? What about—enough! Let us conclude this disheartening scene. You object to my terms. Name yours. I shall accept them. It is futile to reason with one who is the worse for drink.” Stephen was quiet at once. “Steady on!” he said gently. “Steady on in that direction. Take one-third for your four stories and the -introduction, and I will keep two-thirds for myself.” Then he went to -harness the horse, while Mr. Pembroke, watching his broad back, +introduction, and I will keep two-thirds for myself.” Then he went +to harness the horse, while Mr. Pembroke, watching his broad back, desired to bury a knife in it. The desire passed, partly because it was unclerical, partly because he had no knife, and partly because he soon -blurred over what had happened. To him all criticism was “rudeness”: -he never heeded it, for he never needed it: he was never wrong. All his +blurred over what had happened. To him all criticism was “rudeness”: he +never heeded it, for he never needed it: he was never wrong. All his life he had ordered little human beings about, and now he was equally magisterial to big ones: Stephen was a fifth-form lout whom, owing to some flaw in the regulations, he could not send up to the headmaster to @@ -10982,28 +11153,28 @@ be caned. This attitude makes for tranquillity. Before long he felt merely an injured martyr. His brain cleared. He stood deep in thought before the -only other picture that the bare room boasted--the Demeter of Cnidus. +only other picture that the bare room boasted—the Demeter of Cnidus. Outside the sun was sinking, and its last rays fell upon the immortal features and the shattered knees. Sweet-peas offered their fragrance, and with it there entered those more mysterious scents that come from no one flower or clod of earth, but from the whole bosom of evening. He tried not to be cynical. But in his heart he could not regret that -tragedy, already half-forgotten, conventionalized, indistinct. Of course -death is a terrible thing. Yet death is merciful when it weeds out a -failure. If we look deep enough, it is all for the best. He stared at -the picture and nodded. +tragedy, already half-forgotten, conventionalized, indistinct. Of +course death is a terrible thing. Yet death is merciful when it weeds +out a failure. If we look deep enough, it is all for the best. He +stared at the picture and nodded. Stephen, who had met his visitor at the station, had intended to drive -him back there. But after their spurt of temper he sent him with the -boy. He remained in the doorway, glad that he was going to make money, -glad that he had been angry; while the glow of the clear sky deepened, -and the silence was perfected, and the scents of the night grew -stronger. Old vagrancies awoke, and he resolved that, dearly as he -loved his house, he would not enter it again till dawn. “Goodnight!” he -called, and then the child came running, and he whispered, “Quick, then! -Bring me a rug.” “Good-night,” he repeated, and a pleasant voice called -through an upper window, “Why good-night?” He did not answer until the -child was wrapped up in his arms. +him back there. But after their spurt of temper he sent him with +the boy. He remained in the doorway, glad that he was going to make +money, glad that he had been angry; while the glow of the clear sky +deepened, and the silence was perfected, and the scents of the night +grew stronger. Old vagrancies awoke, and he resolved that, dearly as he +loved his house, he would not enter it again till dawn. “Goodnight!” +he called, and then the child came running, and he whispered, “Quick, +then! Bring me a rug.” “Good-night,” he repeated, and a pleasant voice +called through an upper window, “Why good-night?” He did not answer +until the child was wrapped up in his arms. “It is time that she learnt to sleep out,” he cried. “If you want me, we’re out on the hillside, where I used to be.” @@ -11014,61 +11185,61 @@ The voice protested, saying this and that. going anyway.” “Stephen, I wish you wouldn’t. I wish you wouldn’t take her. Promise -you won’t say foolish things to her. Don’t--I wish you’d come up for a -minute--” +you won’t say foolish things to her. Don’t—I wish you’d come up for a +minute—” The child, whose face was laid against his, felt the muscles in it harden. -“Don’t tell her foolish things about yourself--things that aren’t any +“Don’t tell her foolish things about yourself—things that aren’t any longer true. Don’t worry her with old dead dreadfulness. To please -me--don’t.” +me—don’t.” “Just tonight I won’t, then.” -“Stevie, dear, please me more--don’t take her with you.” +“Stevie, dear, please me more—don’t take her with you.” At this he laughed impertinently. “I suppose I’m being kept in line,” - she called, and, though he could not see her, she stretched her arms -towards him. For a time he stood motionless, under her window, musing on -his happy tangible life. Then his breath quickened, and he wondered why -he was here, and why he should hold a warm child in his arms. “It’s time -we were starting,” he whispered, and showed the sky, whose orange was -already fading into green. “Wish everything goodnight.” +she called, and, though he could not see her, she stretched her arms +towards him. For a time he stood motionless, under her window, musing +on his happy tangible life. Then his breath quickened, and he wondered +why he was here, and why he should hold a warm child in his arms. “It’s +time we were starting,” he whispered, and showed the sky, whose orange +was already fading into green. “Wish everything goodnight.” “Good-night, dear mummy,” she said sleepily. “Goodnight, dear house. -Good-night, you pictures--long picture--stone lady. I see you through -the window--your faces are pink.” - -The twilight descended. He rested his lips on her hair, and carried her, -without speaking, until he reached the open down. He had often slept -here himself, alone, and on his wedding-night, and he knew that the turf -was dry, and that if you laid your face to it you would smell the -thyme. For a moment the earth aroused her, and she began to chatter. “My -prayers--” she said anxiously. He gave her one hand, and she was -asleep before her fingers had nestled in its palm. Their touch made him -pensive, and again he marvelled why he, the accident, was here. He was -alive and had created life. By whose authority? Though he could not -phrase it, he believed that he guided the future of our race, and that, -century after century, his thoughts and his passions would triumph in -England. The dead who had evoked him, the unborn whom he would evoke he -governed the paths between them. By whose authority? +Good-night, you pictures—long picture—stone lady. I see you through +the window—your faces are pink.” + +The twilight descended. He rested his lips on her hair, and carried +her, without speaking, until he reached the open down. He had often +slept here himself, alone, and on his wedding-night, and he knew that +the turf was dry, and that if you laid your face to it you would +smell the thyme. For a moment the earth aroused her, and she began to +chatter. “My prayers—” she said anxiously. He gave her one hand, and +she was asleep before her fingers had nestled in its palm. Their touch +made him pensive, and again he marvelled why he, the accident, was +here. He was alive and had created life. By whose authority? Though he +could not phrase it, he believed that he guided the future of our race, +and that, century after century, his thoughts and his passions would +triumph in England. The dead who had evoked him, the unborn whom he +would evoke—he governed the paths between them. By whose authority? Out in the west lay Cadover and the fields of his earlier youth, and over them descended the crescent moon. His eyes followed her decline, and against her final radiance he saw, or thought he saw, the outline of the Rings. He had always been grateful, as people who understood him -knew. But this evening his gratitude seemed a gift of small account. The -ear was deaf, and what thanks of his could reach it? The body was dust, -and in what ecstasy of his could it share? The spirit had fled, in agony -and loneliness, never to know that it bequeathed him salvation. +knew. But this evening his gratitude seemed a gift of small account. +The ear was deaf, and what thanks of his could reach it? The body was +dust, and in what ecstasy of his could it share? The spirit had fled, +in agony and loneliness, never to know that it bequeathed him salvation. He filled his pipe, and then sat pressing the unlit tobacco with his thumb. “What am I to do?” he thought. “Can he notice the things he gave me? A parson would know. But what’s a man like me to do, who works all his life out of doors?” As he wondered, the silence of the night was broken. The whistle of Mr. Pembroke’s train came faintly, and a lurid -spot passed over the land--passed, and the silence returned. One thing +spot passed over the land—passed, and the silence returned. One thing remained that a man of his sort might do. He bent down reverently and saluted the child; to whom he had given the name of their mother. diff --git a/2604-h/2604-h.htm b/2604-h/2604-h.htm index cfd3b46..160f746 100644 --- a/2604-h/2604-h.htm +++ b/2604-h/2604-h.htm @@ -123,7 +123,7 @@ “Look here, Ansell. I’m there—in the meadow—the cow’s there. You’re there—the cow’s there. Do you agree so far?” </p> - <p> + <p> “Well?” </p> <p> @@ -831,7 +831,7 @@ you talk as if your mouth was full of plums, partly because I don’t know whom you’re talking about.” </p> - <p> + <p> “Miss Pembroke—whom you saw.” </p> <p> @@ -1120,7 +1120,7 @@ </p> <p class="sectiondots"> • • • • • • • • • - </p> + </p> <p> Some people spend their lives in a suburb, and not for any urgent reason. This had been the fate of Rickie. He had opened his eyes to filmy heavens, @@ -1276,9 +1276,9 @@ delicate, he roughs it sufficiently if he leaves home. Rickie can’t play games. He doesn’t make friends. He isn’t brilliant. Thinking it over, I feel that as it’s like this, we can’t ever hope to give him the ordinary - education. Perhaps you could think it over too.” + education. Perhaps you could think it over too.” </p> - <p> + <p> “No.” </p> <p> @@ -1341,9 +1341,9 @@ <p> “Shall we be poorer, mother?” </p> - <p> + <p> “No.” - </p> + </p> <p> “Oh!” </p> @@ -1424,16 +1424,16 @@ </p> <p> He was not very often irritable or rude, but he answered, “Oh, I shan’t - catch cold. I do wish you wouldn’t keep on bothering.” + catch cold. I do wish you wouldn’t keep on bothering.” </p> - <p> + <p> He did not catch cold, but while he was out his mother died. She only survived her husband eleven days, a coincidence which was recorded on their tombstone. </p> <p class="sectiondots"> • • • • • • • - </p> + </p> <p> Such, in substance, was the story which Rickie told his friends as they stood together in the shelter of the dell. The green bank at the entrance @@ -1512,7 +1512,7 @@ “There is enough money now to get Mary and Maud as good husbands as they deserve.” And Mary and Maud took the same view. </p> - <p> + <p> It was in this plebeian household that Rickie spent part of the Christmas vacation. His own home, such as it was, was with the Silts, needy cousins of his father’s, and combined to a peculiar degree the restrictions of hospitality with the @@ -1592,7 +1592,7 @@ might reasonably have sent an invitation to his friend. </p> <p> - She replied that she was looking forward to their <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête.</i> + She replied that she was looking forward to their <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>. </p> <p> “You mustn’t go round by the trains,” said Mr. Ansell. “It means changing @@ -1835,7 +1835,7 @@ Mr. Dawes seemed offended. He tapped on his teeth, and remarked that the weather had no business to be so warm in winter. </p> - <p> + <p> “But it was fiendish before Christmas,” said Agnes. </p> <p> @@ -1936,7 +1936,7 @@ <p> “What do you think of him?” she immediately asked. </p> - <p> + <p> He murmured civilly. </p> <p> @@ -2021,13 +2021,13 @@ <p> The voice of Mr. Pembroke was now heard calling from the house, “Frederick! Frederick! My dear boy, pardon me. It was an important letter - about the Church Defence, otherwise— Come in and see your room.” + about the Church Defence, otherwise—— Come in and see your room.” </p> <p> He was glad to quit the little lawn. He had learnt too much there. It was - dreadful: they did not love each other. + dreadful: they did not love each other. </p> - <p> + <p> More dreadful even than the case of his father and mother, for they, until they married, had got on pretty well. But this man was already rude and brutal and cold: he was still the @@ -2184,7 +2184,7 @@ </p> <p> His last achievement had been the organization of the day-boys. They had - been left too much to themselves, and were weak in <i lang="fr">esprit de corps;</i> + been left too much to themselves, and were weak in <i lang="fr">esprit de corps</i>; they were apt to regard home, not school, as the most important thing in their lives. Moreover, they got out of their parents’ hands; they did their preparation any time and some times anyhow. They shirked games, they were @@ -2255,7 +2255,7 @@ “Now we must complete the chapel.” He paused reverently, and said, “And here is a fragment of the original building.” </p> - <p> + <p> Rickie at once had a rush of sympathy. He, too, looked with reverence at the morsel of Jacobean brickwork, ruddy and beautiful amidst the machine-squared stones of the @@ -2340,8 +2340,8 @@ naughty soldier had not carried her off, she might have made an ideal schoolmaster’s wife. I often chaff him about it, for he a little despises the intellectual professions. Natural, perfectly natural. How can a man - who faces death feel as we do towards <i lang="la">mensa</i> or - <i lang="el">tupto?</i>” + who faces death feel as we do towards <i lang="la">mensa</i> or + <i lang="el">tupto</i>?” </p> <p> “Perfectly true. Absolutely true.” @@ -2933,7 +2933,7 @@ interesting. The island begins to rock, and so do the minds of its visitors. They start and quarrel and jabber. Fingers burst up through the sand—black fingers of sea devils. The island tilts. The tourists go mad. - But just before the catastrophe one man, <i lang="la">integer vitae scelerisque purus,</i> + But just before the catastrophe one man, <i lang="la">integer vitae scelerisque purus</i>, sees the truth. Here are no devils. Other muscles, other minds, are pulling the island to its subterranean home. Through the advancing wall of waters he sees no grisly faces, no ghastly medieval limbs, but— But @@ -3585,7 +3585,7 @@ The young man thought of her feelings no longer. His heart throbbed louder and louder, and seemed to shake him to pieces. </p> - <p> + <p> “Rickie!” </p> <p> @@ -3606,7 +3606,7 @@ </p> <p class="sectiondots"> • • • • • • - </p> + </p> <p> “Did you take me for the Dryad?” she asked. She was sitting down with his head on her lap. He had laid it there for a moment before he went out to @@ -3777,7 +3777,7 @@ “And while the cage was drying we put him among the bantams. They had been the greatest allies. But I suppose they took him for a parrot or a hawk, or something that bantams hate; for while his cage was drying they picked - out his feathers, and <em>picked</em> out his feathers and <em>Picked</em> + out his feathers, and <em>picked</em> out his feathers, and <em>Picked</em> out his feathers, till he was perfectly bald. ‘Hugo, look,’ said I. ‘This is the end of Parsival. Let me have no more surprises.’ He burst into tears.” @@ -3801,7 +3801,7 @@ </p> <p> But Rickie had not seen as far. He had not talked to her of this at all. - Last night they had spoken only of love. He exclaimed, “Oh, + Last night they had spoken only of love. He exclaimed, “Oh, Agnes—don’t!” Mrs. Lewin laughed roguishly. </p> @@ -4045,10 +4045,10 @@ sort. The allusions in this English Essay shall not be literary. My personal objections to Miss Pembroke are as follows:— </p> - <p> + <p> (1) She is not serious. </p> - <p> + <p> (2) She is not truthful. </p> <p class="letteraddress"> @@ -5031,7 +5031,7 @@ </p> <p> “No.” - </p> + </p> <p> “Then let’s go to my arbour. No, we won’t. It gets the morning sun, and it’ll be too hot today.” Already she regretted clearing out the men. On @@ -5256,7 +5256,7 @@ The excursion to Salisbury was but a poor business—in fact, Rickie never got there. They were not out of the drive before Mr. Wonham began doing acrobatics. He showed Rickie how very quickly he could turn round in - his saddle and sit with his face to Aeneas’s tail. “I see,” said Rickie + his saddle and sit with his face to Æneas’s tail. “I see,” said Rickie coldly, and became almost cross when they arrived in this condition at the gate behind the house, for he had to open it, and was afraid of falling. As usual, he anchored just beyond the fastenings, and then had to turn @@ -5433,7 +5433,7 @@ beautiful spire in the world, now rising against the southern sky. Between whiles he went for a gallop. After a time Rickie stopped listening, and simply went his way. For Dido was a perfect mount, and as indifferent to - the motions of Aeneas as if she was strolling in the Elysian fields. He + the motions of Æneas as if she was strolling in the Elysian fields. He had had a bad night, and the strong air made him sleepy. The wind blew from the Plain. Cadover and its valley had disappeared, and though they had not climbed much and could not see far, there was a sense of infinite @@ -5554,7 +5554,7 @@ “Write this yourself?” he asked, chuckling. </p> <p> - “Rather,” said Stephen, lowering his head and kissing Aeneas between the + “Rather,” said Stephen, lowering his head and kissing Æneas between the ears. </p> <p> @@ -5565,7 +5565,7 @@ </p> <p class="verse"> “‘Old Em’ly she limps,<br> - And as—’” + And as——’” </p> <p> “I am so tired,” said Rickie. Why should he stand it any longer? @@ -5596,7 +5596,7 @@ </p> <p class="verse"> “‘Old Em’ly she limps,<br> - And as—’” + And as——’” </p> <p> Soon he was out of earshot. Soon they were lost to view. Soon they were @@ -5623,13 +5623,13 @@ </p> <p class="verse"> “‘Old Em’ly she limps,<br> - And as I—’” + And as I——’” </p> <p> “All right, Thomas. That’ll do.” </p> <p class="verse"> - “‘Old Em’ly—’” + “‘Old Em’ly——’” </p> <p> “I wish you’d dry up, like a good fellow. This is the lady’s horse, you @@ -5676,7 +5676,7 @@ <p class="verse"> “‘Of all the gulls that arsshmart,<br> There’s none line pretty—Em’ly;<br> - For she’s the darling of merart—’” + For she’s the darling of merart——’” </p> <p> “Now, that’s wrong.” He rode up close to the singer. @@ -5728,9 +5728,9 @@ “<em>Your</em> mother’s no better than she should be,” said Thomas vaguely. </p> <p> - “Do you think I haven’t heard that before?” retorted the boy. + “Do you think I haven’t heard that before?” retorted the boy. </p> - <p> + <p> The other concluded he might now say anything. So he might—the name of old Emily excepted. Stephen cared little about his benefactress’s honour, but a great deal about his own. He had made Mrs. Failing into a test. For the @@ -5746,11 +5746,11 @@ </p> <p> “I’ve done him!” he yelled, though no one was there to hear. He rose up in - his stirrups and shouted with joy. He flung his arms round Aeneas’s neck. + his stirrups and shouted with joy. He flung his arms round Æneas’s neck. The elderly horse understood, capered, and bolted. It was a centaur that dashed into Salisbury and scattered the people. In the stable he would not dismount. “I’ve done him!” he yelled to the ostlers—apathetic men. - Stretching upwards, he clung to a beam. Aeneas moved on and he was left + Stretching upwards, he clung to a beam. Æneas moved on and he was left hanging. Greatly did he incommode them by his exercises. He pulled up, he circled, he kicked the other customers. At last he fell to the earth, deliciously fatigued. His body worried him no longer. @@ -5889,7 +5889,7 @@ <p class="noindent"> and sprang upward through the skylight on to the roof. </p> - <p> + <p> Years ago, when a nurse was washing him, he had slipped from her soapy hands and got up here. She implored him to remember that he was a little gentleman; but he @@ -5956,7 +5956,7 @@ <p> “From which I conclude he was more obnoxious than usual.” </p> - <p> + <p> Rickie praised him diligently. But his candid nature showed everything through. His aunt soon saw that they had not got on. She had expected this—almost planned it. Nevertheless she resented it, and her resentment was to fall @@ -6217,7 +6217,7 @@ And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend<br> To cold oblivion,—though it is the code<br> Of modern morals, and the beaten road<br> - Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread<br> + Which those poor slaves with weary footsteps tread<br> Who travel to their home among the dead<br> By the broad highway of the world,—and so<br> With one sad friend, perhaps a jealous foe,<br> @@ -6383,11 +6383,11 @@ Then a horror leapt straight at him, and he beat it back and said, “I will not be frightened.” The tree in the centre revolved, the tree disappeared, and he saw a room—the room where his father had lived in town. - “Gently,” he told himself, “gently.” + “Gently,” he told himself, “gently.” </p> - <p> + <p> Still laughing, he said, “I, with a - brother—younger—it’s not possible.” + brother—younger—it’s not possible.” The horror leapt again, and he exclaimed, “It’s a foul lie!” </p> <p> @@ -6982,7 +6982,7 @@ </p> <p> “Doesn’t one want to see a good deal of life for writing? There’s life of - a sort in Soho,—<i lang="fr">Un peu de faisan, s’il vous plait.</i>” + a sort in Soho,—<i lang="fr">Un peu de faisan, s’il vous plait</i>.” </p> <p> Agnes also grabbed at the waiter, and paid. She always did the paying, @@ -7030,9 +7030,9 @@ </p> <p> They parted. Tilliard liked her, though he did not feel that she was quite - in his <i lang="fr">couche sociale.</i> His sister, for instance, would never have been + in his <i lang="fr">couche sociale</i>. His sister, for instance, would never have been lured into a Soho restaurant—except for the experience of the thing. - Tilliard’s <i lang="fr">couche sociale.</i> permitted experiences. + Tilliard’s <i lang="fr">couche sociale</i> permitted experiences. Provided his heart did not go out to the poor and the unorthodox, he might stare at them as much as he liked. It was seeing life. </p> @@ -7097,7 +7097,7 @@ “Holborn” teach him. He sighed, and then sighed more piteously. For had he not known the password once—known it and forgotten it already? </p> - <p> + <p> But at this point his fortunes become intimately connected with those of Mr. Pembroke. </p> <p> @@ -7540,7 +7540,7 @@ </p> <p> The proceeding terminated with the broader patriotism of the school - anthem, recently composed by the organist. Words and tune were still a + anthem, recently composed by the organist. Words and tune were still a matter for taste, and it was Mr. Pembroke (and he only because he had the music) who gave the right intonation to </p> @@ -7657,9 +7657,9 @@ </p> <p> “I felt myself a learner, not a teacher. If I’m wrong over a point, or - don’t know, I mean to tell them at once.” + don’t know, I mean to tell them at once.” </p> - <p> + <p> Herbert shook his head. </p> <p> @@ -9099,7 +9099,7 @@ will certainly not write to the person.” She returned the kiss. But he knew that they had destroyed the habit of reverence, and would quarrel again. </p> - <p> + <p> On his rounds he looked in at Varden and asked nonchalantly for the letter. He carried it off to his room. It was unwise of him, for his nerves were already unstrung, and the man he had tried to bury was @@ -9131,9 +9131,9 @@ It was seldom that he prayed so definitely, or ventured to obtrude his private wishes. Religion was to him a service, a mystic communion with good; not a means of getting what he wanted on the earth. But tonight, - through suffering, he was humbled, and became like Mrs. Aberdeen. + through suffering, he was humbled, and became like Mrs. Aberdeen. </p> - <p> + <p> Hour after hour he awaited sleep and tried to endure the faces that frothed in the gloom—his aunt’s, his father’s, and, worst of all, the triumphant face of his brother. Once he struck at it, and awoke, having @@ -9272,7 +9272,7 @@ <p> “Oh, do come and join us!” he cried. “Let me introduce my wife.” </p> - <p> + <p> Maud bowed quite stiffly, but Agnes, taking it for ill-breeding, was not offended. </p> <p> @@ -9296,7 +9296,7 @@ <p> “How is Mr. Ansell, your brother?” </p> - <p> + <p> Maud’s face fell. “Hadn’t you heard?” she said in awe-struck tones. </p> @@ -9434,8 +9434,8 @@ She belonged to the type—not necessarily an elevated one—that loves once and once only. Her love for Gerald had not been a noble passion: no imagination transfigured it. But such as it was, it sprang to - embrace him, and he carried it away with him when he died. - <i lang="fr">Les amours qui suivrent sont moins involuntaires:</i> by an effort of the + embrace him, and he carried it away with him when he died. + <i lang="fr">Les amours qui suivrent sont moins involuntaires</i>: by an effort of the will she had warmed herself for Rickie. </p> <p> @@ -9791,9 +9791,9 @@ details.” </p> <p> - “A most unsatisfactory position.” + “A most unsatisfactory position.” </p> - <p> + <p> “So I feel.” She sat down again with a sigh. Mrs. Failing had been a great trial to her orderly mind. “She is an odd woman. She is always laughing. She actually finds it amusing that we @@ -9952,7 +9952,7 @@ <p> “But it hurts!” he gasped, in the tones of a puzzled civilization. “What you do hurts!” For the young man was nicking him over the shins with the - rim of the book cover. “Little brute—<em>ee</em>—<em>ow!”</em> + rim of the book cover. “Little brute—<em>ee</em>—<em>ow</em>!” </p> <p> “Then say Pax!” @@ -10181,7 +10181,7 @@ to some table of the gods, spread in a field where there is no noise, and that he belonged for ever to the guests with whom he had eaten. </p> - <p> + <p> Meanwhile he was simple and frank, and what he could tell he would tell to any one. He had not the suburban reticence. Ansell asked him, “Why did Mrs. Failing turn you out of Cadover? I should like to hear that too.” @@ -10265,7 +10265,7 @@ night through not having any tobacco.” </p> <p> - “But I’m not proud. Look how I’ve taken your pouch! + “But I’m not proud. Look how I’ve taken your pouch! The hundred pounds was—well, can’t you see yourself, it was quite different? It was, so to speak, <em>inconvenient</em> for me to take the hundred pounds. Or look again how I took a @@ -10324,7 +10324,7 @@ summons from the house. </p> <p> - “He said I ought to be ashamed of myself. He said, <em>‘I</em>’ll not be the means + “He said I ought to be ashamed of myself. He said, ‘<em>I</em>’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and lady.’ I told him not to be a fool. I said I knew what I was about. Rickie and Agnes are properly educated, which leads people to look at things straight, and not go @@ -10336,7 +10336,7 @@ </p> <p> “Oh, she won’t mind, and I told the man so; but he kept on saying, - <em>‘I</em>’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman + ‘<em>I</em>’ll not be the means of bringing shame to an honest gentleman and lady,’ until I got out of his rotten cart.” His eye watched the man, a Nonconformist, driving away over God’s earth. “I caught the train by running. I got to Waterloo at—” @@ -10386,7 +10386,7 @@ <p> “I ought to knock my pipe out? Was that it?” </p> - <p> + <p> “By no means. Go in, your pipe and you.” </p> @@ -10397,7 +10397,7 @@ and silence. Through the window of the boys’ dining-hall came the colourless voice of Rickie— </p> - <p class="verse"> + <p class="verse"> “‘Benedictus benedicat.’” </p> <p> @@ -10511,8 +10511,8 @@ </p> <p> “In consideration of the sum of........., I agree to perpetual silence—to - restrain from libellous…never to molest the said Frederick Elliot by - intruding—‘” + restrain from libellous … never to molest the said Frederick Elliot by + intruding—’” </p> <p> His brain was not quick. He read the document over twice, and he could @@ -11058,7 +11058,7 @@ <p> “If you don’t feel inclined to start at once,” he said with easy civility, “let us have a little tea. My dear sir, do forgive me for not shooting - you. <i lang="fr">Nous avons changé tout cela.</i> Please don’t look so + you. <i lang="fr">Nous avons changé tout cela.</i> Please don’t look so nervous. Please do unclasp your hands—” </p> <p> @@ -11125,7 +11125,7 @@ <p> “You conventional!” she exclaimed in disgust. </p> - <p> + <p> “What they have done means misery not only for themselves but for others. For your brother, though you will not think of him. For the little boy—did you think of him? @@ -11228,7 +11228,7 @@ injury to his fellows. But the instinct to wonder at the night was not to be thus appeased. </p> - <p> + <p> At first he had lived under the care of Mr. Failing—the only person to whom his mother spoke freely, the only person who had treated her neither as a criminal nor as a pioneer. In their rare but @@ -11396,9 +11396,9 @@ fields, even swift, even pure, until they mirrored the tower of Christchurch and greeted the ramparts of the Isle of Wight. Of these he thought for a moment as he crossed the black river and entered the heart - of the modern world. + of the modern world. </p> - <p> + <p> Here he found employment. He was not hampered by genteel traditions, and, as it was near quarter-day, managed to get taken on at a furniture warehouse. He moved people from the suburbs to London, @@ -11743,7 +11743,7 @@ then—I know I was wrong—” </p> <p> - “And where do I come in?” He kicked the hassock. <em>“I</em> + “And where do I come in?” He kicked the hassock. <em>“I</em> haven’t risen from the dead. <em>I</em> haven’t altered since last Sunday week. I’m—” He stuttered again. He could not quite explain what he was. “The man towards Andover—after @@ -12146,7 +12146,7 @@ perverse, there still remained this paradise of books. It seemed as if he had read nothing for two years. </p> - <p> + <p> Then the train stopped for the shunting, and he heard protests from minor officials who were working on the line. They complained that some one who didn’t ought to, had mounted on the @@ -12531,7 +12531,7 @@ <p> Rickie shuffled his feet. But his irritation passed. He saw that the little incident had been a quiet challenge to the civilization that he had - known. “Organize.” “Systematize.” “Fill up every + known. “Organize.” “Systematize.” “Fill up every moment,” “Induce <i lang="fr">esprit de corps.</i>” He reviewed the watchwords of the last two years, and found that they ignored personal contest, personal truces, personal love. By @@ -13056,9 +13056,9 @@ promise for these few days.” </p> <p> - “No, sir.” + “No, sir.” </p> - <p> + <p> “‘No, sir,’” stamped Rickie. “‘Yes! no! yes!’ Can’t you speak out? Is he drunk or isn’t he?” </p> @@ -13498,4 +13498,3 @@ </body> </html> - |