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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 08:39:57 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 08:39:57 -0800 |
| commit | aeb9001e1d2b1710a0b7c2058e88afde0a4c334a (patch) | |
| tree | de3bc669c39ea18afabd90749a609ed253e63e30 /44322-h/44322-h.html | |
| parent | 6a6227552eda4fed55d0bd90166e606517b7da75 (diff) | |
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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>A BIRD OF PASSAGE AND OTHER STORIES</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="A Bird of Passage and Other Stories" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Beatrice Harraden" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1890" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="44322" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-11-30" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="A Bird of Passage and Other Stories" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="A Bird of Passage and Other Stories" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="bird.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-12-01T04:15:16.002728+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44322" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Beatrice Harraden" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-11-30" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="a-bird-of-passage-and-other-stories"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">A BIRD OF PASSAGE AND OTHER STORIES</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: A Bird of Passage and Other Stories -<br /> -<br />Author: Beatrice Harraden -<br /> -<br />Release Date: November 30, 2013 [EBook #44322] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A BIRD OF PASSAGE AND OTHER STORIES</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">A BIRD OF PASSAGE AND OTHER STORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY BEATRICE HARRADEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT," -<br />"IN VARYING MOODS," ETC.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">CHICAGO -<br />DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO. -<br />407-425 DEARBORN ST.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">1890</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-bird-of-passage">A BIRD OF PASSAGE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#at-the-green-dragon">AT THE GREEN DRAGON</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#hieronymus-comes">HIERONYMUS COMES</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#hieronymus-stays">HIERONYMUS STAYS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-primary-glory">THE PRIMARY GLORY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-making-of-the-pastry">THE MAKING OF THE PASTRY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#pastry-and-personal-monarchy">PASTRY AND PERSONAL MONARCHY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-exciseman-s-library">THE EXCISEMAN'S LIBRARY</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#auntie-lloyd-protests">AUNTIE LLOYD PROTESTS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-distance-grows">THE DISTANCE GROWS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#david-laments">DAVID LAMENTS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#hieronymus-speaks">HIERONYMUS SPEAKS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#hieronymus-goes">HIERONYMUS GOES</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#an-idyll-of-london">AN IDYLL OF LONDON</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-bird-of-passage"><span class="bold x-large">A BIRD OF PASSAGE.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BY BEATRICE HARRADEN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was about four in the afternoon when a -young girl came into the salon of the little -hotel at C. in Switzerland, and drew her -chair up to the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are soaked through," said an elderly -lady, who was herself trying to get roasted. -"You ought to lose no time in changing your clothes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not anything to change," said the -young girl, laughing. "Oh, I shall soon be dry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you lost all your luggage?" asked -the lady sympathetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the young girl, "I had none to -lose." And she smiled a little mischievously, -as though she knew by instinct that her -companion's sympathy would at once degenerate -into suspicion!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean to say that I have not a -knapsack," she added considerately. "I have -walked a long distance--in fact from </span><em class="italics">Z</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where did you leave your companions?" -asked the lady, with a touch of forgiveness -in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am without companions, just as I am -without luggage," laughed the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she opened the piano, and struck -a few notes. There was something caressing -in the way in which she touched the keys; -whoever she was, she knew how to make -sweet music; sad music too, full of that -undefinable longing, like the holding out of one's -arms to one's friends in the hopeless distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady bending over the fire looked up -at the little girl, and forgot that she had -brought neither friends nor luggage with her. -She hesitated for one moment, and then she -took the childish face between her hands and -kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, dear, for your music," she -said gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The piano is terribly out of tune," said -the little girl suddenly, and she ran out of -the room and came back carrying her knapsack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do?" asked her companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to tune the piano," the little -girl said; and she took a tuning-hammer out -of her knapsack, and began her work in real -earnest. She evidently knew what she was -about, and pegged away at the notes as though -her whole life depended on the result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady by the fire was lost in amazement. -Who could she be? Without luggage -and without friends, and with a tuning hammer!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile one of the gentlemen had -strolled into the salon; but hearing the -sound of tuning, and being in secret possession -of nerves, he fled, saying, "The tuner, by -Jove!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes afterwards, Miss Blake, -whose nerves were no secret possession, -hastened into the salon, and in her usual -imperious fashion demanded silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have just done," said the little girl. -"The piano was so terribly out of tune, I -could not resist the temptation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Blake, who never listened to what -any one said, took it for granted that the -little girl was the tuner for whom M. le -Proprietaire had promised to send; and having -bestowed upon her a condescending nod, -passed out into the garden, where she told -some of the visitors that the piano had been -tuned at last, and that the tuner was a young -woman of rather eccentric appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really it is quite abominable how women -thrust themselves into every profession," she -remarked in her masculine voice. "It is so -unfeminine, so unseemly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing of the feminine about -Miss Blake: her horse-cloth dress, her -waistcoat and high collar, and her billy-cock hat -were of the masculine genus; even her nerves -could not be called feminine, since we learn -from two or three doctors (taken off their -guard) that nerves are neither feminine nor -masculine, but common.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to see this tuner," said one -of the tennis players, leaning against a tree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here she comes," said Miss Blake, as the -little girl was seen sauntering, into the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men put up their eye-glasses, and saw -a little lady with a childish face and soft -brown hair, of strictly feminine appearance -and bearing. The goat came toward her -and began nibbling at her frock. She seemed -to understand the manner of goats, and played -with him to his heart's content. One of the -tennis players, Oswald Everard by name, -strolled down to the bank where she was -having her frolic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good afternoon," he said, raising his cap. -"I hope the goat is not worrying you. Poor -little fellow! This is his last day of play. -He is to be killed to-morrow for table d'hôte."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a shame!" she said. "Fancy to be -killed, and then grumbled at!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is precisely what we do here," he -said, laughing. "We grumble at everything -we eat. And I own to being one of the -grumpiest; though the lady in the horse-cloth -dress yonder follows close upon my heels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was the lady who was annoyed at me -because I tuned the piano," the little girl said. -"Still it had to be done. It was plainly my -duty. I seemed to have come for that purpose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has been confoundedly annoying having -it out of tune," he said. "I've had to give up -singing altogether. But what a strange -profession you have chosen! Very unusual, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, surely not," she answered, amused. -"It seems to me that every other woman has -taken to it. The wonder to me is that any -one ever scores a success. Nowadays, -however, no one could amass a huge fortune out -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one, indeed!" replied Oswald Everard, -laughing. "What on earth made you take -to it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It took to me," she said simply. "It -wrapt me round with enthusiasm. I could -think of nothing else. I vowed that I would -rise to the top of my profession. I worked -day and night. But it means incessant toil for -years if one wants to make any headway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good gracious! I thought it was merely -a matter of a few months," he said, smiling -at the little girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A few months!" she repeated scornfully. -"You are speaking the language of an -amateur. No; one has to work faithfully year -after year, to grasp the possibilities and pass -on to greater possibilities. You imagine what -it must feel like to touch the notes, and know -that you are keeping the listeners spellbound; -that you are taking them into a fairyland of -sound, where petty personality is lost in vague -longing and regret."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I confess that I had not thought of it in -that way," he said humbly. "I have only -regarded it as a necessary everyday evil; and -to be quite honest with you, I fail to see now -how it can inspire enthusiasm. I wish I could -see," he added, looking up at the engaging -little figure before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," she said, laughing at his -distress; "I forgive you. And after all, you -are not the only person who looks upon it as -a necessary evil. My poor guardian -abominated it. He made many sacrifices to come -and listen to me. He knew I liked to see -his kind old face, and that the presence of a -real friend inspired me with confidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should not have thought it was nervous -work," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try it and see," she answered. "But -surely you spoke of singing. Are you not -nervous when you sing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sometimes," he replied, rather stiffly. -"But that is slightly different." (He was -very proud of his singing, and made a great -fuss about it.) "Your profession, as I -remarked before, is an unavoidable nuisance. -When I think what I have suffered from -the gentlemen of your profession, I only -wonder that I have any brains left. But I -am uncourteous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," she said. "Let me hear about -your sufferings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whenever I have specially wanted to be -quiet," he said; and then he glanced at her -childish little face, and he hesitated. "It -seems so rude of me," he added. He was the -soul of courtesy, although he was an amateur -tenor singer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please tell me," the little girl said, in her -winning way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, gathering himself together, -"it is the one subject on which I can be -eloquent. Ever since I can remember I have -been worried and tortured by those rascals. -I have tried in every way to escape from -them, but there is no hope for me. Yes; I -believe that all the tuners in the universe are -in league against me, and have marked me out -for their special prey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">All the what?</em><span>" asked the little girl, with -a jerk in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the tuners, of course," he replied, rather -snappishly. "I know that we cannot do -without them; but, good heavens! they have no -tact, no consideration, no mercy. Whenever -I've wanted to write or read quietly that fatal -knock has come at the door, and I've known -by instinct that all chance of peace was over. -Whenever I've been giving a luncheon party, -the tuner has arrived, with his abominable -black bag, and his abominable card, which has -to be signed at once. On one occasion I was -just proposing to a girl in her father's library, -when the tuner struck up in the drawing-room. -I left off suddenly, and fled from the -house. But there is no escape from these -fiends; I believe they are swarming about in -the air like so many bacteria. And how, in -the name of goodness, you should deliberately -choose to be one of them, and should be so -enthusiastic over your work, puzzles me -beyond all words. Don't say that you carry a -black bag, and present cards that have to be -filled up at the most inconvenient time; -don't----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped suddenly, for the little girl was -convulsed with laughter. She laughed until -the tears rolled down her cheeks; and then -she dried her eyes and laughed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me," she said, "I can't help -myself; it's so funny."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may be funny to you," he said, laughing -in spite of himself; "but it is not funny -to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it isn't," she replied, making a -desperate effort to be serious. "Well, tell -me something more about these tuners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not another word," he said gallantly. "I -am ashamed of myself as it is. Come to the -end of the garden, and let me show you the -view down into the valley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had conquered her fit of merriment, -but her face wore a settled look of mischief, -and she was evidently the possessor of some -secret joke. She seemed in capital health -and spirits, and had so much to say that was -bright and interesting, that Oswald Everard -found himself becoming reconciled to the -whole race of tuners. He was amazed to -learn that she had walked all the way from -</span><em class="italics">Z</em><span>, and quite alone too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't think anything of that," she -said; "I had a splendid time, and I caught -four rare butterflies. I would not have missed -those for anything. As for the going about -by myself, that is a second nature. Besides, -I do not belong to any one. That has its -advantages, and I suppose its disadvantages; -but at present I have only discovered the -advantages. The disadvantages will -discover themselves!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you are what the novels call an -advanced young woman," he said. "Perhaps -you give lectures on Woman's Suffrage or -something of that sort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have very often mounted the platform," -she answered. "In fact, I am never so happy -as when addressing an immense audience. -A most unfeminine thing to do, isn't it? What -would the lady yonder in the horse-cloth -dress and billy-cock hat say? Don't you -think you ought to go and help her drive -away the goat? She looks so frightened. -She interests me deeply. I wonder whether -she has written an essay on the Feminine in -Woman. I should like to read it; it would -do me so much good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are at least a true woman," he said, -laughing, "for I see you can be spiteful. The -tuning has not driven that away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I had forgotten about the tuning," -she answered brightly; "but now you remind -me, I have been seized with a great idea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you tell it to me?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she answered. "I keep my great -ideas for myself, and work them out in secret. -And this one is particularly amusing. What -fun I shall have!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why keep the fun to yourself?" he -said. "We all want to be amused here; we -all want to be stirred up; a little fun would -be a charity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, since you wish it, but you must -give me time to work out my great idea. I -do not hurry about things, not even about -my professional duties. For I have a strong -feeling that it is vulgar to be always amassing -riches! As I have neither a husband nor a -brother to support, I have chosen less wealth, -and more leisure to enjoy all the loveliness of -life! So you see I take my time about -everything. And to-morrow I shall catch butterflies -at my leisure, and lie among the dear -old pines, and work at my great idea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall catch butterflies," said her -companion. "And I too shall lie among the dear -old pines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just as you please," she said; and at that -moment the table d'hôte bell rang.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl hastened to the bureau and -spoke rapidly in German to the cashier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ach, Fräulein!" he said. "You are not -really serious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I am," she said. "I don't want them -to know my name. It will only worry me. -Say I am the young lady who tuned the piano."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had scarcely given these directions -and mounted to her room, when Oswald -Everard, who was much interested in his -mysterious companion, came to the bureau -and asked for the name of the little lady. -"Es ist das Fräulein welches das Piano -gestimmt hat," answered the man, returning -with unusual quickness to his account-book.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>No one spoke to the little girl at table -d'hôte; but for all that she enjoyed her -dinner, and gave her serious attention to all the -courses. Being thus solidly occupied, she -had not much leisure to bestow on the -conversation of the other guests. Nor was it -specially original: it treated of the -shortcomings of the chef, the tastelessness of the -soup, the toughness of the beef, and all the -many failings which go to complete a -mountain-hotel dinner. But suddenly, so it seemed -to the little girl, this time-honored talk passed -into another phase; she heard the word -music mentioned, and she became at once -interested to learn what these people had to -say on a subject which was dearer to her -than any other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For my own part," said a stern-looking -old man, "I have no words to describe what -a gracious comfort music has been to me all -my life. It is the noblest language which -man may understand and speak. And I -sometimes think that those who know it, or -know something of it, are able at rare -moments to find an answer to life's perplexing -problems."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl looked up from her plate. -Robert Browning's words rose to her lips, -but she did not give them utterance:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The rest may reason, and welcome; 'tis we musicians know."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I have lived through a long life," said -another elderly man, "and have therefore had -my share of trouble, but the grief of being -obliged to give up music was the grief which -held me longest, or which perhaps has never -left me. I still crave for the gracious -pleasure of touching once more the strings of a -violoncello, and hearing the dear tender voice -singing and throbbing and answering even to -such poor skill as mine. I still yearn to take -my part in concerted music, and be one of -those privileged to play Beethoven's string -quartettes. But that will have to be in -another incarnation, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced at his shrunken arm, and then, -as though ashamed of this allusion to his own -personal infirmity, he added hastily:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when the first pang of such a pain is -over, there remains the comfort of being a -listener. At first one does not think it a -comfort; but as time goes on, there is no -resisting its magic influence. And Lowell said -rightly that 'one of God's great charities is -music.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not know you were musical, Mr. Keith," -said an English lady. "You have -never before spoken of music."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps not, madam," he answered. -"One does not often speak of what one cares -for most of all. But when I am in London -I rarely miss hearing our best players."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this point others joined in, and the -various merits of eminent pianists were -warmly discussed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a wonderful name that little English -lady has made for herself!" said the Major, -who was considered an authority on all -subjects. "I would go anywhere to hear Miss -Thyra Flowerdew. We all ought to be very -proud of her. She has taken even the -German musical world by storm, and they say -her recitals at Paris have been brilliantly -successful. I myself have heard her at New -York, Leipsic, London, Berlin, and even -Chicago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl stirred uneasily in her chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think Miss Flowerdew has ever -been to Chicago," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a dead silence. The admirer of -Miss Thyra Flowerdew looked much annoyed, -and twiddled his watch chain. He had meant -to say Philadelphia, but he did not think it -necessary to own to his mistake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What impertinence!" said one of the ladies -to Miss Blake. "What can she know about -it? Is she not the young person who tuned -the piano?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps she tunes Miss Thyra Flowerdew's -piano!" suggested Miss Blake in a loud whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right, madam," said the little girl -quietly. "I have often tuned Miss Flowerdew's piano."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another embarrassing silence, -and then a lovely old lady, whom every one -reverenced, came to the rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think her playing is simply superb," she -said. "Nothing that I ever hear satisfies me -so entirely. She has all the tenderness of -an angel's touch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listening to her," said the Major, who -had now recovered from his annoyance at -being interrupted, "one becomes unconscious -of her presence, for she </span><em class="italics">is the music itself</em><span>. -And that is rare. It is but seldom nowadays -that we are allowed to forget the personality -of the player. And yet her personality is an -unusual one; having once seen her, it would -not be easy to forget her. I should -recognize her anywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke he glanced at the little tuner, -and could not help admiring her dignified -composure under circumstances which might -have been distressing to any one; and when -she rose with the others, he followed her, -and said stiffly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret that I was the indirect cause of -putting you in an awkward position."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is really of no consequence," she said -brightly. "If you think I was impertinent, I -ask your forgiveness. I did not mean to be -officious. The words were spoken before I -was aware of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She passed into the salon, where she found a -quiet corner for herself, and read some of the -newspapers. No one took the slightest notice -of her; not a word was spoken to her; but -when she relieved the company of her -presence her impertinence was commented on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry that she heard what I said," -remarked Miss Blake. "But she did not seem -to mind. These young women who go out -into the world lose the edge of their sensitiveness -and femininity. I have always observed that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much they are spared then!" answered some one.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meanwhile the little girl slept soundly. -She had merry dreams, and finally woke up -laughing. She hurried over her breakfast, -and then stood ready to go for a butterfly -hunt. She looked thoroughly happy, and -evidently had found, and was holding tightly -the key to life's enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oswald Everard was waiting on the balcony, -and he reminded her that he intended -to go with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along, then," she answered; "we -must not lose a moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They caught butterflies, they picked flowers, -they ran; they lingered by the wayside, -they sang; they climbed, and he marveled at -her easy speed. Nothing seemed to tire her, -and everything seemed to delight her: the -flowers, the birds, the clouds, the grasses, -and the fragrance of the pine-woods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it not good to live?" she cried, "Is it -not splendid to take in the scented air? -Draw in as many long breaths as you can. -Isn't it good? Don't you feel now as though -you were ready to move mountains? I do. -What a dear old nurse Nature is! How she -pets us, and gives us the best of her treasures!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her happiness invaded Oswald Everard's -soul, and he felt like a schoolboy once more, -rejoicing in a fine day and his liberty; with -nothing to spoil the freshness of the air, and -nothing to threaten the freedom of the moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it not good to live?" he cried. "Yes, -indeed it is, if we know how to enjoy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had come upon some haymakers, and -the little girl hastened up to help them. -There she was in the midst of them, laughing -and talking to the women, and helping them -to pile up the hay on the shoulders of a -broad-backed man, who then conveyed his burden -to a pear-shaped stack. Oswald Everard -watched his companion for a moment, and -then, quite forgetting his dignity as an -amateur tenor singer, he too, lent his aid, and -did not leave off until his companion sank -exhausted on the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she laughed, "what delightful work -for a very short time! Come along; let us -go into that brown chalet yonder and ask for -some milk. I am simply parched with thirst. -Thank you, but I prefer to carry my own -flowers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an independent little lady you are!" -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is quite necessary in our profession, I -can assure you," she said, with a tone of -mischief in her voice. "That reminds me that -my profession is evidently not looked upon -with any favor by the visitors at the hotel. -I am heartbroken to think that I have not -won the esteem of that lady in the billy-cock -hat. What will she say to you for coming -with me? And what will she say of me for -allowing you to come? I wonder whether -she will say, 'How unfeminine!' I wish I -could hear her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't suppose you care," he said. "You -seem to be a wild little bird."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't care what a person of that description -says," replied his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth made you contradict the -Major at dinner last night?" he asked. "I was -not at the table, but some one told me of the -incident; and I felt very sorry about it. -What could you know of Miss Thyra Flowerdew?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, considering that she is in my -profession, of course I know something about -her," said the little girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound it all!" he said, rather rudely. -"Surely there is some difference between the -bellows-blower and the organist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Absolutely none," she answered--"merely -a variation of the original theme!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke she knocked at the door of -the chalet, and asked the old dame to give -them some milk. They sat in the </span><em class="italics">Stube</em><span>, -and the little girl looked about, and admired -the spinning-wheel, and the quaint chairs, -and the queer old jugs, and the pictures on -the walls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but you shall see the other room," -the old peasant woman said, and she led them -into a small apartment, which was evidently -intended for a study. It bore evidences of -unusual taste and care, and one could see -that some loving hand had been trying to -make it a real sanctum of refinement. There -was even a small piano. A carved book-rack -was fastened to the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old dame did not speak at first; she -gave her guests time to recover from the -astonishment which she felt they must be -experiencing; then she pointed proudly to the -piano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bought that for my daughters," she -said, with a strange mixture of sadness and -triumph. "I wanted to keep them at home -with me, and I saved and saved and got -enough money to buy the piano. They had -always wanted to have one, and I thought -they would then stay with me. They liked -music and books, and I knew they would be -glad to have a room of their own where they -might read and play and study; and so I gave -them this corner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mother," asked the little girl, "and -where are they this afternoon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" she answered sadly, "they did not -care to stay. But it was natural enough; -and I was foolish to grieve. Besides, they -come to see me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then they play to you?" asked the -little girl gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say the piano is out of tune," the -old dame said "I don't know. Perhaps -you can tell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl sat down to the piano, and -struck a few chords.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said. "It is badly out of tune. -Give me the tuning-hammer. I am sorry," -she added, smiling at Oswald Everard, "but -I cannot neglect my duty. Don't wait for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will wait for you," he said sullenly; and -he went into the balcony and smoked his -pipe, and tried to possess his soul in patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she had faithfully done her work, -she played a few simple melodies, such as -she knew the old woman would love and -understand; and she turned away when she -saw that the listener's eyes were moist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Play once again," the old woman whispered. -"I am dreaming of beautiful things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the little tuner touched the keys again -with all the tenderness of an angel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell your daughters," she said, as she -rose to say good-bye, "that the piano is now -in good tune. Then they will play to you the -next time they come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall always remember you, mademoiselle," -the old woman said; and, almost -unconsciously, she too took the childish face -and kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oswald Everard was waiting in the -hayfield for his companion; and when she -apologized to him for this little professional -intermezzo, as she called it, he recovered from -his sulkiness and readjusted his nerves, which -the noise of the tuning had somewhat disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was very good of you to tune the old -dame's piano," he said, looking at her with -renewed interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one had to do it, of course," she -answered brightly, "and I am glad the chance -fell to me. What a comfort it is to think -that the next time those daughters come to -see her, they will play to her, and make her -very happy! Poor old dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You puzzle me greatly," he said. "I -cannot for the life of me think what made you -choose your calling. You must have many -gifts; any one who talks with you must see -that at once. And you play quite nicely too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry that my profession sticks in your -throat," she answered. "Do be thankful that I -am nothing worse than a tuner. For I might -be something worse--a snob, for instance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so speaking, she dashed after a -butterfly, and left him to recover from her words. -He was conscious of having deserved a -reproof; and when at last he overtook her, he -said as much, and asked for her kind indulgence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forgive you," she said, laughing. "You -and I are not looking at things from the -same point of view; but we have had a -splendid morning together, and I have enjoyed -every minute of it. And to-morrow I go on -my way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to-morrow you go!" he repeated. "Can -it not be the day after to-morrow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a bird of passage," she said, shaking -her head. "You must not seek to detain me. -I have taken my rest, and off I go to other -climes."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They had arrived at the hotel, and Oswald -Everard saw no more of his companion until -the evening, when she came down rather late -for table d'hôte. She hurried over her dinner -and went into the salon. She closed the -door and sat down to the piano, and lingered -there without touching the keys; once or -twice she raised her hands, and then she let -them rest on the notes, and half-unconsciously -they began to move and make sweet music, -and then they drifted into Schumann's -</span><em class="italics">Abendlied</em><span>, and then the little girl played -some of his </span><em class="italics">Kinderscenen</em><span>, and some of his -</span><em class="italics">Fantasie Stucke</em><span>, and some of his songs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her touch and feeling were exquisite; and -her phrasing betrayed the true musician. The -strains of music reached the dining-room, and -one by one the guests came creeping in, -moved by the music, and anxious to see the -musician.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl did not look up; she was in -a Schumann mood that evening, and only the -players of Schumann know what enthralling -possession he takes of their very spirit. All -the passion and pathos and wildness and -longing had found an inspired interpreter; -and those who listened to her were held by -the magic which was her own secret, and -which had won for her such honor as comes -only to the few. She understood Schumann's -music, and was at her best with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she, perhaps, chosen to play his music -this evening because she wished to be at her -best? Or was she merely being impelled by -an overwhelming force within her? Perhaps -it was something of both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was she wishing to humiliate these people -who had received her so coldly? This little -girl was only human: perhaps there was -something of that feeling too. Who can tell? -But she played as she had never played in -London, or Paris, or Berlin, or New York, -or Philadelphia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she arrived at the Carneval, and -those who heard her declared afterward that -they had never listened to a more -magnificent rendering; the tenderness was so -restrained, the vigor was so refined. When -the last notes of that spirited </span><em class="italics">Marche des -Davidsbundler contre les Philistins</em><span> had died -away, she glanced at Oswald Everard, who -was standing near her, almost dazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now my favorite piece of all," she -said; and she at once began the Second -Novellette, the finest of the eight, but -seldom played in public.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What can one say of the wild rush of the -leading theme, and the pathetic longing of -the Intermezzo?</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"... The murmuring dying notes,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That fall as soft as snow on the sea;"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>and</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The passionate strain that deeply going,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Refines the bosom it trembles through."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>What can one say of those vague aspirations -and finest thoughts which possess the -very dullest among us when such music as -that which the little girl had chosen catches -us and keeps us, if only for a passing -moment, but that moment of the rarest worth -and loveliness in our unlovely lives?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What can one say of the highest music, -except that, like death, it is the great -leveler: it gathers us all to its tender -keeping--and we rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl ceased playing. There was -not a sound to be heard; the magic was still -holding her listeners. When at last they had -freed themselves with a sigh, they pressed -forward to greet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is only one person who can play -like that," cried the Major, with sudden -inspiration; "she is Miss Thyra Flowerdew."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is my name," she said simply; and -she slipped out of the room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The next morning, at an early hour, the -Bird of Passage took her flight onward, but -she was not destined to go off unobserved. -Oswald Everard saw the little figure -swinging along the road, and he overtook her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You little wild bird!" he said. "And so -this was your great idea: to have your fun -out of us all, and then play to us and make -us feel, I don't know how--and then to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said the company wanted stirring -up," she answered; "and I rather fancy I -have stirred them up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do you suppose you have done -for me?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope I have proved to you that the -bellows-blower and the organist are sometimes -identical," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little wild bird," he said, "you have given -me a great idea, and I will tell you what it -is: </span><em class="italics">to tame you</em><span>. So good-bye for the present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye," she said. "But wild birds are -not so easily tamed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she waved her hand over her head, -and went on her way singing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hieronymus-comes"><span id="at-the-green-dragon"></span><span class="bold x-large">AT THE GREEN DRAGON.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BY BEATRICE HARRADEN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HIERONYMUS COMES.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a pouring September evening when -a stranger knocked at the door of the Crown -Inn. Old Mrs. Howells saw that he carried -a portmanteau in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's a bedroom you want," she said, "I -can't be bothered with you. What with -brewing the beer and cleaning the brass, I've -more than I can manage. I'm that tired!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so am I," said the stranger pathetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go over the way to the Green Dragon," -suggested Mrs. Howells. "Mrs. Benbow may -be able to put you up. But what with the -brewing and the cleaning, I can't do with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger stepped across the road to -the Green Dragon. He tapped at the door, -and a cheery little woman made her appearance. -She was carrying what they call in -Shropshire a devil of hot beer. It smelt good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-evening, ma'am," said the stranger. -"Can you house me for the night? The -hostess of the Crown Inn has turned me -away. But you surely will not do the same? -You observe what a bad cold I have."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow glanced sharply at the -stranger. She had not kept the Green -Dragon for ten years without learning to -judge somewhat of character; and to-night -she was particularly on her guard, for her -husband had gone to stay for two days with -some relatives in Shrewsbury, so that -Mrs. Benbow and old John of the wooden leg, -called </span><em class="italics">Dot and carry one</em><span>, were left as sole -guardians of the little wayside public house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not very convenient for me to take -you in," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it would not be very convenient for -me to be shut out," he replied. "Besides -which, I have had a whiff of that hot beer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment a voice from the kitchen -cried impatiently. "Here, missus! where be -that beer of your'n. I be feeling quite faint-like!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As though he could call out like that if -he was faint!" laughed Mrs. Benbow, running -off into the kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she returned she found the stranger -seated at the foot of the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do you propose to do for me?" -he asked patiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no mistaking the genial manner. -Mrs. Benbow was conquered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I propose to fry some eggs and bacon for -your supper," she said cheerily. "And then -I propose to make your bedroom ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sensible woman!" he said, as he followed -her into the parlor, where a fire was burning -brightly. He threw himself into the -easychair, and immediately experienced that -sensation of repose and thankfulness which -comes over us when we have found a haven. -There he rested, content with himself and his -surroundings. The fire lit up his face, and -showed him to be a man of about forty years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing especially remarkable -about him. The face in repose was sad and -thoughtful; and yet when he discovered a -yellow cat sleeping under the table, he smiled -as though some great pleasure had come into -his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along, little comrade!" he said, as -he captured her. She looked up into his -face so frankly that the stranger was much -impressed. "Why, I do believe you are a -dog undergoing a cat incarnation," he -continued. "What qualities did you lack when -you were a dog, I wonder? Perhaps you did -not steal sufficiently well; perhaps you had -net cultivated restfulness. And your name? -Your name shall be Gamboge. I think that -is a suitable appellation for you--certainly -more suitable than most of the names -thrust upon unoffending humanity. My own -name, for instance, Hieronymus! Ah, you -may well mew! You are a thoroughly -sensible creature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he amused himself until Mrs. Benbow -came with his supper. Then he pointed to -the cat and said quietly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is a very companionable dog of yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow darted a look of suspicion at -the stranger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We call that a cat in Shropshire," she said, -beginning to regret that she had agreed to -house the stranger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, no doubt you are partially right," -said the stranger solemnly; "but, at the -same time, you are partially wrong. To use -the language of the theosophists----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow interrupted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eat your supper while it is hot," she -said, "then perhaps you'll feel better. Your -cold is rather heavy in your head, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed good-temperedly, and smiled -at her as though to reassure her that he was -quite in his right senses; and then, without -further discussion, he began to make short -work of the fried eggs and bacon. Gamboge, -sitting quietly by the fireside, scorned -to beg; she preferred to steal. That is a -way some people have.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger finished his supper, and lit his -pipe. Once or twice he began to doze. The -first time he was aroused by Gamboge, who -had jumped on the table, and was seeking -what she might devour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Gamboge," he said sleepily, "I am -sorry I have not left anything appetizing for -you. I was so hungry. Pray excuse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he dozed off again. The second -time he was aroused by the sound of singing. -He caught the words of the chorus:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I'll gayly sing from day to day,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And do the best I can;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>If sorrows meet me on the way,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>I'll bear them like a man."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"An excellent resolution," murmured the -stranger, becoming drowsy once more. "Only -I wish they'd kept their determinations to themselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third time he was disturbed by the -sound of angry voices. There was some -quarreling going on in the kitchen of the -Green Dragon. The voices became louder. -There was a clatter of stools and a crash of glasses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a pack of lying gypsies!" sang -out some one. "You know well you didn't -pay the missus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go for him! go for him!" was the cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the parlor door was flung open and -Mrs. Benbow rushed in. "Oh!" she cried, -"those gypsy men are killing the carpenter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus Howard rushed into the -kitchen, and threw himself into the midst of -the contest. Three powerful tramps were -kicking a figure prostrate on the ground. -One other man, Mr. Greaves, the blacksmith, -was trying in vain to defend his comrade. -He had no chance against these gypsy -fellows, and though he fought like a lion, his -strength was, of course, nothing against -theirs. Old John of the one leg had been -knocked over, and was picking himself up -with difficulty. Everything depended on the -promptness of the stranger. He was nothing -of a warrior, this Hieronymus Howard; he -was just a quiet student, who knew how to -tussle with Greek roots rather than with -English tramps. But he threw himself upon the -gypsies, fought hand to hand with them, was -blinded with blows, nearly trampled beneath -their feet, all but crushed against the wall. -Now he thrust them back. Now they pressed -on him afresh. Now the blacksmith, with -desperate effort, attacked them again. Now -the carpenter, bruised and battered, but wild -for revenge, dragged himself from the floor, -and aimed a blow at the third gypsy's head. -He fell. Then after a short, sharp contest, -the other two gypsies were driven to the -door, which Mrs. Benbow had opened wide, -and were thrust out. The door was bolted -safely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they had bolted one gypsy in with -them. When they returned to the kitchen -they found him waiting for them. He had -recovered himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow raised a cry of terror. She -had thought herself safe in her castle. The -carpenter and the blacksmith were past -fighting. Hieronymus Howard gazed placidly at -the great tramp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry we had forgotten you," he said -courteously. "Perhaps you will oblige us -by following your comrades. I will open the -door for you. I think we are all rather -tired--aren't we? So perhaps you will go at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man gazed sheepishly at him, and -then followed him. Hieronymus Howard -opened the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-evening to you," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the gypsy passed out without a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well now," said Hieronymus, as he drew -the bolt, "that is the end of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he hastened into the parlor. Mrs. Benbow -hurried after him, and was just in -time to break his fall. He had swooned away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hieronymus-stays"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HIERONYMUS STAYS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hieronymus Howard had only intended to -pass one night at the Green Dragon. But -his sharp encounter with the gypsies altered -his plans. He was battered and bruised and -thoroughly shaken, and quite unable to do -anything else except rest in the arm-chair and -converse with Gamboge, who had attached -herself to him, and evidently appreciated his -companionship. His right hand was badly -sprained. Mrs. Benbow looked after him -most tenderly, bemoaning all the time that -he should be in such a plight because of her. -There was nothing that she was not willing -to do for him; it was a long time since -Hieronymus Howard had been so petted and -spoiled. Mrs. Benbow treated every one -like a young child that needed to be taken -care of. The very men who came to drink -her famous ale were under her strict motherly -authority. "There now, Mr. Andrew, that's -enough for ye," she would say; "not another -glass to-night. No, no, John Curtis; get -you gone home. You'll not coax another -half-pint out of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was generally obeyed; even Hieronymus -Howard, who refused rather peevishly to take -a third cup of beef-tea, found himself obliged -to comply. When she told him to lie on the -sofa, he did so without a murmur. When -she told him to get up and take his dinner -while it was still hot, he obeyed like a -well-trained child. She cut his food, and then -took the knife away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't try to use your right hand," -she said sternly. "Put it back in the sling -at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus obeyed. Her kind tyranny -pleased and amused him, and he was not at -all sorry to go on staying at the Green -Dragon. He was really on his way to visit some -friends just on the border between Shropshire -and Wales, to form one of a large house-party, -consisting of people both interesting -and intellectual: qualities, by the way, not -necessarily inseparable. But he was just at -the time needing quiet of mind, and he -promised himself some really peaceful hours in this -little Shropshire village, with its hills, some -of them bare, and others girt with a belt of -trees, and the brook gurgling past the -wayside inn. He was tired, and here he would -find rest. The only vexatious part was that -he had hurt his hand. But for this mishap -he would have been quite content.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told this to Mr. Benbow, who returned -that afternoon, and who expressed his regret -at the whole occurrence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am well satisfied here," said -Hieronymus cheerily. "Your little wife is a -capital hostess: somewhat of the tyrant, you -know. Still, one likes that; until one gets -to the fourth cup of beef-tea! And she is -an excellent cook, and the Green Dragon is -most comfortable. I've nothing to complain -of except my hand. That is a nuisance, for -I wanted to do some writing. I suppose -there is no one here who could write for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Mr. Benbow, "perhaps the -missus can. She can do most things. She's -real clever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow, being consulted on this matter, -confessed that she could not do much in -that line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used to spell pretty well once," she said -brightly; "but the brewing and the scouring -and the looking after other things have -knocked all that out of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wrote to me finely when I was away," -her husband said. He was a quiet fellow, -and proud of his little wife, and liked people -to know how capable she was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but you aren't over-particular, Ben, -bless you," she answered, laughing, and -running away to her many duties. Then she -returned to tell Hieronymus that there was a -splendid fire in the kitchen, and that he was -to go and sit there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm busy doing the washing in the back-yard," -she said. "Ben has gone to look after -the sheep. Perhaps you'll give an eye to -the door, and serve out the ale. It would -help me mighty. I'm rather pressed for time -to-day. We shall brew to-morrow, and I -must get the washing done this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took it for granted that he would obey, -and of course he did. He transferred himself, -his pipe, and his book to the front kitchen, -and prepared for customers. Hieronymus -Howard had once been an ambitious man, -but never before had he been seized by such -an overwhelming aspiration as now possessed -him--to serve out the Green Dragon ale!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only some one would come!" he said -to himself scores of times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one came. Hieronymus, becoming -impatient, sprang up from his chair and -gazed anxiously out of the window, just in -time to see three men stroll into the -opposite inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound them!" he cried; "why don't -they come here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment four riders stopped at -the rival public-house, and old Mrs. Howells -hurried out to them, as though to prevent -any possibility of them slipping across to the -other side of the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was almost more than Hieronymus -could bear quietly. He could scarcely -refrain from opening the Green Dragon door -and advertising in a loud voice the manifold -virtues of Mrs. Benbow's ale and spirits. -But he recollected in time that even wayside -inns have their fixed code of etiquette, and -that nothing remained for him but to possess -his soul in patience. He was rewarded; in -a few minutes a procession of wagons filed -slowly past the Green Dragon; he counted -ten horses and five men. Would they stop? -Hieronymus waited in breathless excitement. -Yes, they did stop, and four of the drivers -came into the kitchen. "Where is the fifth?" -asked Hieronymus sharply, having a keen eye -to business. "He is minding the horses," they -answered, looking at him curiously. But -they seemed to take it for granted that he -was there to serve them, and they leaned -back luxuriously in the great oak settle, while -Hieronymus poured out the beer, and -received in exchange some grimy coppers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After they had gone the fifth man came to -have his share of the refreshments; and then -followed a long pause, which seemed to -Hieronymus like whole centuries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was during a lengthened period like -this," he remarked to himself, as he paced -up and down the kitchen--"yes, it was -during infinite time like this that the rugged -rocks became waveworn pebbles!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he heard the sound of horses' feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a rider," he said. "I shall have to go -out to him." He hastened to the door, and -saw a young woman on a great white horse. -She carried a market basket on her arm. -She wore no riding-habit, but was dressed in -the ordinary way. There was nothing -picturesque about her appearance, but Hieronymus -thought her face looked interesting. She -glanced at him as though she wondered what -he could possibly be doing at the Green Dragon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, and what may I do for you?" he -asked. He did not quite like to say, "What -may I bring for you?" He left her to decide -that matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to see Mrs. Benbow," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is busy doing the washing," he -answered. "But I will go and tell her, if you -will kindly detain any customer who may -chance to pass by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hurried away, and came back with the -answer that Mrs. Benbow would be out in -a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," the young woman said -quietly. Then she added: "You have hurt -your arm, I see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he answered; "it is a great nuisance. -I cannot write. I have been wondering -whether I could get any one to write for me. -Do you know of any one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said bitterly; "we don't write -here. We make butter and cheese, and we -fatten up our poultry, and then we go to -market and sell our butter, cheese, and poultry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Hieronymus, "and why -shouldn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up at her, and saw what a -discontented expression had come over her -young face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took no notice of his interruption, but -just switched the horse's ears with the end -of her whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what we do year after year," she -continued, "until I suppose we have become -so dull that we don't care to do anything -else. That is what we have come into the -world for: to make butter and cheese, and -fatten up our poultry, and go to market."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he answered cheerily, "and we -all have to do it in some form or other. -We all go to market to sell our goods, whether -they be brains, or practical common-sense -(which often, you know, has nothing to do -with brains), or butter, or poultry. Now I -don't know, of course, what you have in -your basket; but supposing you have eggs, -which you are taking to market. Well, you -are precisely in the same condition as the -poet who is on his way to a publisher's, -carrying a new poem in his vest pocket. And -yet there is a difference."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course there is," she jerked out scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, there </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> a difference," he continued, -placidly; "it is this: you will return -without those eggs, but the poet will come back -still carrying his poem in his breast-pocket!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he laughed at his own remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is how things go in the great world, -you know," he said. "Out in the great -world there is an odd way of settling matters. -Still they must be settled somehow or other!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out in the world!" she exclaimed. "That -is where I long to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why on earth don't you?" he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment Mrs. Benbow came running out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so sorry to keep you waiting, -Miss Hammond," she said to the young girl; -"but what with the washing and the making -ready for the brewing to-morrow, I don't -know where to turn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then followed a series of messages to -which Hieronymus paid no attention. And -then Miss Hammond cracked her whip, waved -her greetings with it, and the old white horse -trotted away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who is the rider of the horse?" asked -Hieronymus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she is Farmer Hammond's daughter," -said Mrs. Benbow. "Her name is Joan. She -is an odd girl, different from the other girls -here. They say she is quite a scholar too. -Why, </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> would be the one to write for -you. The very one, of course! I'll call to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But by that time the old white horse was -out of sight.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-primary-glory"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE PRIMARY GLORY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The next day at the Green Dragon was a -busy one. Mrs. and Mr. Benbow were up -betimes, banging casks about in the cellar. -When Hieronymus Howard came down to -breakfast, he found that they had brought -three barrels into the kitchen, and that one -was already half full of some horrible brown -liquid, undergoing the process of fermentation. -He felt himself much aggrieved that he was -unable to contribute his share of work to -the proceedings. It was but little comfort to -him that he was again allowed to attend to -the customers. The pouring out of the beer -had lost its charm for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a secondary glory to pour out the -beer," he grumbled. "I aspire to the primary -glory of helping to make the beer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow was heaping on the coal in -the furnace. She turned round and looked -at the disconsolate figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is one thing you might do," she -said. "I've not half enough barm. There are -two or three places where you might call for -some; and between them all perhaps you'll -get enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She then mentioned three houses, Farmer -Hammond's being among the number.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very likely the Hammonds would oblige -us," she said. "They are neighborly folk. -They live at the Malt-House Farm, two -miles off. You can't carry the jar, but you -can take the perambulator and wheel it back. -I've often done that when I had much to carry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus Howard looked doubtfully at -the perambulator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," he said submissively. "I suppose -I shall only look like an ordinary tramp. -It seems to be the fashion to tramp on this road!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It never entered his head to rebel. The -great jar was lifted into the perambulator, -and Hieronymus wheeled it away, still -keeping up his dignity, though under somewhat -trying circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I rather wish I had not mentioned anything -about primary glory," he remarked to himself. -"However, I will not faint by the wayside; -Mrs. Benbow is a person not lightly to be -disobeyed. In this respect she reminds me -distinctly of Queen Elizabeth, or Margaret of -Anjou, with just a dash of Napoleon Bonaparte!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he walked on along the highroad. -Two or three tramps passed him, wheeling -similar perambulators, some heaped up with -rags and old tins and umbrellas, and occasionally -a baby; representing the sum total of -their respective possessions in the world. -They looked at him with curiosity, but no -pleasantry passed their lips. There was -nothing to laugh at in Hieronymus' -appearance; there was a quiet dignity about him -which was never lost on any one. His -bearing tallied with his character, the character -of a mellowed human being. There was a -restfulness about him which had soothed -more than one tired person; not the restfulness -of stupidity, but the repose only gained -by those who have struggled through a great -fever to a great calm. His was a clean-shaven -face; his hair was iron-gray. There -was a kind but firm expression about his -mouth, and a suspicion of humor lingering -in the corners. His eyes looked at you -frankly. There seemed to be no self-consciousness -in his manner; long ago, perhaps, -he had managed to get away from himself. -He enjoyed the country, and stopped more -than once to pick some richly tinted leaf, or -some tiny flower nestling in the hedge. He -confided all his treasures to the care of the -perambulator. It was a beautiful morning, -and the sun lit up the hills, which were girt -with a belt of many gems: a belt of trees, each -rivaling the other in colored luxuriance. -Hieronymus sang. Then he turned down a -lane to the left and found some nuts. He -ate these, and went on his way again, and at -last found himself outside a farm of large -and important aspect. A man was stacking -a hayrick. Hieronymus watched him keenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good gracious!" he exclaimed; "I wish I -could do that. How on earth do you manage -it? And did it take you long to learn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man smiled in the usual yokel fashion, -and went on with his work. Hieronymus -plainly did not interest him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this the Malt-House Farm?" cried -Hieronymus lustily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else should it be?" answered the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These rural characters are inclined to be -one-sided," thought Hieronymus, as he -opened the gate and wheeled the perambulator -into the pretty garden. "It seems to -me that they are almost as narrow-minded -as the people who live in cities and pride -themselves on their breadth of view. Almost--but -on reflection, not quite!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knocked at the door of the porch, and -a great bustling woman opened it. He -explained his mission to her, and pointed to -the jar for the barm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would oblige Mrs. Benbow greatly, -ma'am," he said. "In fact, we cannot get -on with our beer unless you come to our -assistance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Step into the parlor, sir," she said, -smiling, "and I'll see how much we've got. I -think you are the gentleman who fought the -gypsies. You've hurt your arm, I see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, a great nuisance," he answered -cheerily; "and that reminds me of my other -request. I want some one to write for me an -hour or two every day. Mrs. Benbow -mentioned your daughter, the young lady who -came to us on the white horse yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was going to add: "The young lady -who wishes to go out into the world;" but -he checked himself, guessing by instinct that -the young lady and her mother had probably -very little in common.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps, though," he said, "I take a -liberty in making the suggestion. If so, you -have only to reprove me, and that is the end -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I daresay she'd like to write for you," -said Mrs. Hammond, "if she can be spared -from the butter and the fowls. She likes -books and pen and paper. They're things -as I don't favor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Hieronymus, suddenly filled -with an overwhelming sense of his own -littleness; "you are occupied with other more -useful matters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," rejoined Mrs. Hammond -fervently. "Well, if you'll be seated, I'll -send Joan to you, and I'll see about the barm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus settled down in an old chair, -and took a glance at the comfortable paneled -room. There was every appearance of ease -about the Malt-House Farm, and yet Farmer -Hammond and his wife toiled incessantly -from morning to evening, exacting continual -labor from their daughter too. There was a -good deal of brass-work in the parlor; it -was kept spotlessly bright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes Joan came in. She -carried the jar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have filled the jar with barm," she said, -without any preliminaries. "One of the men -can take it back if you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, thank you," he said cheerily, -looking at her with some interest. "It came in -the perambulator; it can return in the same -conveyance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent over the table, leaning against -the jar. She smiled at his words, and the -angry look of resentfulness, which seemed -to be her habitual expression, gave way to a -more pleasing one. Joan was not good-looking, -but her face was decidedly interesting. -She was of middle stature, slight but strong; -not the typical country girl with rosy cheeks, -but pale, though not unhealthy. She was -dark of complexion; soft brown hair, over -which she seemed to have no control, was -done into a confused mass at the back, -untidy, but pleasing. Her forehead was not -interfered with; you might see it for yourself, -and note the great bumps which those rogues -of phrenologists delight to finger. She -carried her head proudly, and from certain -determined jerks which she gave to it you might -judge of her decided character. She was -dressed in a dark gown, and wore an apron -of coarse linen. At the most she was -nineteen years of age. Hieronymus just glanced -at her, and could not help comparing her -with her mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said pleasantly, "and now, -having settled the affairs of the Green Dragon, -I proceed to my own. Will you come and -be my scribbler for a few days? Or if you -wish for a grander title, will you act as my -amanuensis? I am sadly in need of a little -help. I have found out that you can help me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know whether you could read my -writing," she said shyly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That does not matter in the least," he -answered. "I shan't have to read it. Some -one else will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My spelling is not faultless," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Also a trifle!" he replied. "Spelling, like -every other virtue, is a relative thing, -depending largely on the character of the -individual. Have you any other objection?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head, and smiled brightly at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to write for you," she said, -"if only I could do it well enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure of that," he answered kindly. -"Mrs. Benbow tells me you are a young -lady who does good work. I admire that -beyond everything. You fatten up the poultry -well, you make butter and pastry -well--shouldn't I just like to taste it! And I am -sure you have cleaned this brass-work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, "when I'm tired of every -one and everything, I go and rub up the -brasses until they are spotless. When I am -utterly weary of the whole concern, and just -burning to get away from this stupid little -village, I polish the candlesticks and handles -until my arms are worn out. I had a good -turn at it yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was yesterday a bad day with you, then?" -he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she answered. "When I was riding -the old white horse yesterday, I just felt that -I could go on riding, riding forever. But -she is such a slow coach. She won't go quickly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I should think you could walk more -quickly," said Hieronymus. "Your legs would -take you out into the world more swiftly -than that old white horse. And being clear -of this little village, and being out in the -great world, what do you want to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To learn!" she cried; "to learn to know -something about life, and to get to have -other interests: something great and big, -something worth wearing one's strength away -for." Then she stopped suddenly. "What -a goose I am!" she said, turning away half -ashamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something great and big," he repeated. -"Cynics would tell you that you have a weary -quest before you. But I think it is very easy -to find something great and big. Only it all -depends on the strength of your telescope. -You must order the best kind, and unfortunately -one can't afford the best kind when -one is very young. You have to pay for your -telescope, not with money, but with years. -But when at last it comes into your -possession--ah, how it alters the look of things!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused a moment, as though lost in -thought; and then, with the brightness so -characteristic of him, he added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I must be going home to my humble -duties at the Green Dragon, and you, no -doubt, have to return to your task of feeding -up the poultry for the market. When is -market-day at Church Stretton?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On Friday," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is the day I have to send off some -of my writing," he said; "my market-day, -also, you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you a poet?" she asked timidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he answered, smiling at her; "I am -that poor creature, an historian: one of those -restless persons who furridge among the -annals of the past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," she said enthusiastically, "I have -always cared more about history than -anything else!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, if you come to-morrow to the -Green Dragon at eleven o'clock," he said -kindly, "you will have the privilege of -writing history instead of reading it. And now I -suppose I must hasten back to the tyranny -of Queen Elizabeth. Can you lift that jar -into the perambulator? You see I can't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hoisted it into the perambulator, and -then stood at the gate, watching him as he -pushed it patiently over the rough road.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-making-of-the-pastry"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MAKING OF THE PASTRY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That same afternoon Mrs. Hammond put -on her best things and drove in the dogcart -to Minton, where Auntie Lloyd of the -Tan-House Farm was giving a tea-party. Joan -had refused to go. She had a profound -contempt for these social gatherings, and Auntie -Lloyd and she had no great love, the one -for the other. Auntie Lloyd, who was -regarded as the oracle of the family, summed -Joan up in a few sentences:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a wayward creature, with all her -fads about books and book learning. I've -no patience with her. Fowls and butter and -such things have been good enough for us; -why does she want to meddle with things -which don't concern her? She's clever at -her work, and diligent too. If it weren't for -that, there'd be no abiding her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan summed Auntie Lloyd up in a few words:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she's Auntie Lloyd," she said, shrugging -her shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when her mother urged her to go to -Minton to this tea-party, which was to be -something special, Joan said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't care about going. Auntie -Lloyd worries me to death. And what with -her, and the rum in the tea, and those -horrid crumpets, I'd far rather stay at home, -and make pastry and read a book."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she stayed. There was plenty of pastry -in the larder, and there seemed no particular -reason why she should add to the store. -But she evidently thought differently about -the matter, for she went into the kitchen and -rolled up her sleeves and began her work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope this will be the best pastry I have -ever made," she said to herself, as she -prepared several jam-puffs and an open tart. -"I should like him to taste my pastry. An -historian. I wonder what we shall write -about to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put the pastry into the oven, and sat -lazily in the ingle, nursing her knees, and -musing. She was thinking the whole time -of Hieronymus, of his kind and genial manner, -and his face with the iron-gray hair; she -would remember him always, even if she -never saw him again. Once or twice it crossed -her mind that she had been foolish to speak -so impatiently to him of her village life. He -would just think her a silly, discontented -girl, and nothing more. And yet it had -seemed so natural to talk to him in that -strain; she knew by instinct that he would -understand, and he was the first she had ever -met who would be likely to understand. The -others--her father, her mother, David Ellis -the exciseman, who was supposed to be fond -of her, these and others in the neighborhood--what -did they care about her desires to improve -her mind, and widen out her life, and -multiply her interests? She had been waiting -for months, almost for years indeed, to speak -openly to some one; she could not have let -the chance go by, now that it had come to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puffs meanwhile were forgotten. When -at last she recollected them, she hastened to -their rescue, and found she was only just in -time. Two were burned; she placed the -others in a dish, and threw the damaged ones -on the table. As she did so the kitchen door -opened, and the exciseman came in, and -seeing the pastry, he exclaimed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Joan, making pastry! Then I'll test it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll do nothing of the sort," she said -half angrily, as she put her hands over the -dish. "I won't have it touched. You can -eat the burnt ones it you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," he answered. "I want the best. -Why, Joan, what's the matter with you? -You're downright cross to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm no different from usual," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you are," he said; "and what's more, -you grow different every week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I grow more tired of this horrid little -village and every one in it, if that's what you -mean," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had thrown his whip on the chair, and -stood facing her. He was a prosperous man, -much respected, and much liked for many -miles round Little Stretton. It was an open -secret that he loved Joan Hammond, the only -question in the village being whether Joan -would have him when the time came for him -to propose to her. No girl in her senses -would have been likely to refuse the -exciseman; but then Joan was not in her senses, -so that anything might be expected of her. -At least such was the verdict of Auntie Lloyd, -who regarded her niece with the strictest -disapproval. Joan had always been more -friendly with David than with any one else; and -it was no doubt this friendliness, remarkable -in one who kept habitually apart from others, -which had encouraged David to go on hoping -to win her, not by persuasion but by patience. -He loved her, indeed he had always loved her; -and in the old days, when he was a -schoolboy and she was a little baby child, he had -left his companions to go and play with his -tiny girl-friend up at the Malt-House Farm. -He had no sister of his own, and he liked -to nurse and pet the querulous little creature -who was always quiet in his arms. He could -soothe her when no one else had any -influence. But the years had come and gone, -and they had grown apart; not he from her, -but she from him. And now he stood in the -kitchen of the old farm, reading in her very -manner the answer to the question which he -had not yet asked her. That question was -always on his lips; how many times had he -not said it aloud when he rode his horse -over the country? But Joan was forbidding -of late months, and especially of late weeks, -and the exciseman had always told himself -sadly that the right moment had not yet -come. And to-day, also, it was not the -right moment. A great sorrow seized him, -for he longed to tell her that he loved her, -and that he was yearning to make her happy. -She should have books of her own; books, -books, books; he had already bought a few -volumes to form the beginning of her library. -They were not well chosen, perhaps, but -there they were, locked up in his private -drawer. He was not learned, but he would -learn for her sake. All this flashed through -his mind as he stood before her. He looked at -her face, and could not trace one single -expression of kindliness or encouragement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I must go on waiting," he thought, -and he stooped and picked up his whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Joan," he said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kitchen door swung on its hinges, and -Joan was once more alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An historian," she said to herself, as she -took away the rolling-pin, and put the pastry -into the larder. "I wonder what we shall -write about to-morrow."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="pastry-and-personal-monarchy"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PASTRY AND PERSONAL MONARCHY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joan sat in the parlor of the Green Dragon, -waiting until Hieronymus had finished eating -a third jam-puff, and could pronounce -himself ready to begin dictating. A few papers -were scattered about on the table, and -Gamboge was curled up on the hearth-rug. Joan -was radiant with pleasure, for this was her -nearest approach to intellectuality; a new -world had opened to her as though by -magic. And she was radiant with another -kind of pleasure: this was only the third time -she had seen the historian, and each time -she was the happier. It was at first a little -shock to her sense of intellectual propriety -that the scholar yonder could condescend to -so trivial a matter as pastry; but then -Hieronymus had his own way about him, which -carried conviction in the end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said cheerily. "I think I am -ready to begin. Dear me! What excellent pastry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan smiled, and dipped her pen in the ink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to </span><em class="italics">think</em><span> that David nearly ate it!" -she said to herself. And that was about the -first time she had thought of him since yesterday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the historian began. His language -was simple and dignified, like the man -himself. His subject was "An Introduction to -the Personal Monarchy, which began with -the reign of Henry VIII." Everything he -said was crystal-clear. Moreover, he had -that rare gift, the power of condensing and -of suggesting too. He was nothing if not an -impressionist. Joan had no difficulty in -keeping pace with him, for he dictated slowly. -After nearly two hours he left off, and gave -a great sigh of relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now," he said, "that's enough for -to-day." And he seemed just like a schoolboy -released from lessons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, come," he added, as he looked -over the manuscript. "I shall be quite proud -to send that in to the printer. You would -make a capital little secretary. You are so -quiet and you don't scratch with your pen: -qualities which are only too rare. Well, -we shall be able to go on with this work, if -you can spare the time and will oblige me. -And we must make some arrangements about -money matters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As for that," said Joan hastily, "it's such -a change from the never-ending fowls and -that everlasting butter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it is," said Hieronymus, as he -took his pipe from the mantel-shelf. "But -all the same, we will be business-like. -Besides, consider the advantage; you will be -earning a little money with which you can -either buy books to read, or fowls to fatten -up. You can take your choice, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should choose the books," she said, quite -fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How spiteful you are to those fowls!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So would you be, if you had been looking -after them all your life," Joan answered, still -more fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no doubt about you being a -volcanic young lady," Hieronymus remarked -thoughtfully. "But I understand. I was -also a volcano once. I am now extinct. You -will be extinct after a few years, and you -will be thankful for the repose. But one -has to go through a great many eruptions as -preliminaries to peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any kind of experience is better than none -at all," Joan said, more gently this time. -"You can't think how I dread a life in which -nothing happens. I want to have my days -crammed full of interests and events. Then -I shall learn something; but here--what can -one learn? You should just see Auntie -Lloyd, and be with her for a quarter of an -hour. When you've seen her, you've seen -the whole neighborhood. Oh, how I dislike her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tone of voice expressed so heartily her -feelings about Auntie Lloyd that Hieronymus -laughed, and Joan laughed too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had put on her bonnet, and stood -ready to go home. The historian stroked -Gamboge, put away his papers, and expressed -himself inclined to accompany Joan part of -the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ran to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Benbow -that he would not be long gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dinner won't be ready for quite an hour," -she said, "as the butcher came so late. But -here is a cup of beef-tea for you. You look -rather tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had such a lot of pastry," -Hieronymus pleaded, and he turned to Mr. Benbow, -who had just come into the kitchen followed -by his faithful collie. "I don't feel as though -I could manage the beef-tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no use kicking over the traces," said -Mr. Benbow, laughing. "I've found that out -long ago. Sarah is a tyrant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was evidently a tyranny which suited -him very well, for there seemed to be a kind -of settled happiness between the host and -hostess of the Green Dragon. Some such -thought passed through Hieronymus' mind as -he gulped down the beef-tea, and then -started off happily with Joan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like both the Benbows," he said to her. -"And it is very soothing to be with people -who are happy together. I'm cozily housed -there, and not at all sorry to have had my -plans altered by the gypsies; especially now -that I can go on with my work so comfortably. -My friends in Wales may wait for me -as long as they choose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan would have wished to tell him how -glad she was that he was going to stay. But -she just smiled happily. He was so bright -himself that it was impossible not to be -happy in his company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so pleased I have done some dictating -to-day," he said, as he plucked an autumn -leaf and put it into his buttonhole. "And now -I can enjoy myself all the more. You cannot -think how I do enjoy the country. These -hills are so wonderfully soothing. I never -remember being in a place where the hills -have given me such a sense of repose as here. -Those words constantly recur to me:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'His dews drop mutely on the hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His cloud above it saileth still,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>(Though on its slopes men sow and reap).</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>More softly than the dew is shed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or cloud is floated overhead,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>He giveth His beloved sleep.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It's all so true, you know, and yonder </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> -the slopes cultivated by men. I am always -thinking of these words here. They match -with the hills and they match with my feelings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never thought about the hills in -that way," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he answered kindly, "because you -are not tired yet. But when you are tired, -not with imaginary battlings, but with the -real campaigns of life, then you will think -about the dews falling softly on the hills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you tired, then?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been very tired," he answered simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They walked on in silence for a few minutes, -and then he added: "You wished for -knowledge, and here you are surrounded by -opportunities for attaining to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never found Auntie Lloyd a specially -interesting subject for study," Joan said -obstinately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was not thinking of Auntie Lloyd," he -said. "I was thinking of all these beautiful -hedges, these lanes with their countless -treasures, and this stream with its bed of stones, -and those hills yonder; all of them eloquent -with the wonder of the earth's history. You -are literally surrounded with the means of -making your minds beautiful, you country -people. And why don't you do it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan listened. This was new language to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sciences are here for you. They -offer themselves to you, without stint, without -measure. Nature opens her book to you. -Have you ever tried to read it? From the -things which fret and worry our souls, from -the people who worry and fret us, from -ourselves who worry and fret ourselves, we can -at least turn to Nature. There we find our -right place, a resting place of intense repose. -There we lose that troublesome part of -ourselves, our own sense of importance. Then -we rest, and not until then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should you speak to me of rest?" the -girl cried, her fund of patience and control -coming suddenly to an end. "I don't want -to rest. I want to live a full, rich life, crammed -with interests. I want to learn about life -itself, not about things. It is so absurd to -talk to me of rest. You've had your term -of unrest--you said so. I don't care about -peace and repose! I don't----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left off as suddenly as she had begun, -fearing to seem too ill-mannered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you don't," he said gently, "and -I'm a goose to think you should. No, you -will have to go out into the world, and to -learn for yourself that it is just the same -there as everywhere: butter and cheese -making, prize-winning and prize-losing, and very -little satisfaction either over the winning or -the losing; and a great many Auntie Lloyds, -probably a good deal more trying than the -Little Stretton Auntie Lloyd. Only, if I -were you, I should not talk about it any more. -I should just go. Saddle the white horse -and go! Get your experiences, thick and -quick. Then you will be glad to rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you making fun of me?" she asked -half suspiciously, for he had previously joked -about the slow pace of the white horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he answered, in his kind way; "why -should I make fun of you? We cannot all be -content to go on living a quiet life in a little -village."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment the exciseman passed by -them on horseback. He raised his hat to -Joan, and looked with some curiosity at -Hieronymus. Joan colored. She remembered -that she had not behaved kindly to him -yesterday; and after all, he was David, David -who had always been good to her, ever since -she could remember.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was that?" asked Hieronymus. -"What a trim, nice-looking man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is David Ellis, the exciseman," Joan -said, half reluctantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder when he is going to test the -beer at the Green Dragon," said the historian -anxiously. "I wouldn't miss that for -anything. Will you ask him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan hesitated. Then she hastened on a -few steps, and called "David!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David turned in his saddle, and brought -his horse to a standstill. He wondered what -Joan would have to say to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When are you going to test the beer at -the Green Dragon?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some time this afternoon," he answered. -"Why do you want to know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The gentleman who is staying at the inn -wants to know," Joan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that all you have to say to me?" David -asked quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Joan, looking up at him. "There -is something more: about the pastry--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But just then Hieronymus had joined them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you're talking about pastry," he said -cheerily, "I never tasted any better than Miss -Hammond's. I ate a dishful this morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exciseman looked at Joan, and at the historian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, as he cracked his whip, "it -tastes good to those who can get it, and it -tastes bad to those who can't get it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he galloped away, leaving -Joan confused, and Hieronymus mystified. -He glanced at his companion, and seemed to -expect that she would explain the situation; -but as she did not attempt to do so he walked -quietly along with her until they came to the -short cut which led back to the Green -Dragon. There he parted from her, making an -arrangement that she should come and write -for him on the morrow. But as he strolled -home he said to himself, "I am much afraid -that I have been eating some one else's pastry! -Well, it was very good, especially the jam-puffs!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-exciseman-s-library"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE EXCISEMAN'S LIBRARY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>David Ellis did not feel genially disposed -toward the historian; and yet when he stood -in the kitchen of the Green Dragon, testing -the new brew, and saw Hieronymus eagerly -watching the process, he could not but be -amused. There was something about -Hieronymus which was altogether irresistible. He -had a power, quite unconscious to himself, -of drawing people over to his side. And yet -he never tried to win; he was just himself, -nothing more and nothing less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not wishing to pry into the secrets -of the profession," he said to David Ellis; -"but I do like to see how everything is done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exciseman good-naturedly taught him -how to test the strength of the beer, and -Hieronymus was as pleased as though he -had learned some great secret of the universe, -or unearthed some long-forgotten fact in history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure the beer comes up to its -usual standard?" he asked mischievously, -turning to Mrs. Benbow at the same time. -"Are you sure it has nothing of the beef-tea -element about it? We drink beef-tea by the -quart in this establishment. I'm allowed -nothing else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David laughed, and said it was the best -beer in the neighborhood; and with that he -left the kitchen and went into the ale-room -to exchange a few words with Mr. Howells, -the proprietor of the rival inn, who always -came to the Green Dragon to have his few -glasses of beer in peace, free from the stormy -remonstrances of his wife. Every one in -Little Stretton knew his secret, and respected -it. Hieronymus returned to the parlor, where -he was supposed to be deep in study.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a few minutes some one knocked at -the door, and David Ellis came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me troubling you," he said, rather -nervously, "but there is a little matter I -wanted to ask you about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's about that confounded pastry!" -thought Hieronymus, as he drew a chair -to the fireside and welcomed the exciseman -to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David sank down into it, twisted his whip, -and looked now at Hieronymus and now at -the books which lay scattered on the table. -He evidently wished to say something, but -he did not know how to begin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know what you want to say," said Hieronymus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you don't," answered the exciseman. -"No one knows except myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus retreated, crushed, but rather -relieved too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then David, gaining courage, continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Books are in your line, aren't they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It just does happen to be my work to -know a little about them," the historian -answered. "Are you interested in them too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said David, hesitating, "I can't -say I read them, but I buy them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Most people do that," said Hieronymus; -"it takes less time to buy than to read, and -we are pressed for time in this century."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see," said the exciseman, "I don't -buy the books for myself, and it's rather -awkward knowing what to get. Now what would -you get for a person who was really fond of -reading: something of a scholar, you -understand? That would help me for my next lot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It all depends on the taste of the person," -Hieronymus said kindly. "Some like poetry, -some like novels; others like books about the -moon, and others like books about the north -pole, or the tropics."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David did not know much about the north -pole or the tropics, but he had certainly -bought several volumes of poetry, and -Hieronymus' words gave him courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bought several books of poetry," he -said, lifting his head up with a kind of triumph -which was unmistakable. "Cowper, Mrs. Hemans--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Hieronymus patiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the other day I bought Milton," -continued the exciseman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said the historian, with a faint smile -of cheerfulness. He had never been able to -care for Milton (though he never owned to this).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now I thought of buying this," said -David, taking from his pocket a small slip of -paper and showing it to his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus read: "Selections from Robert Browning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, come!" he said cheerily, "this is -a good choice!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not my choice," said David simply. -"I don't know one fellow from another. But -the man at the shop in Ludlow told me it -was a book to have. If you say so too, of -course that settles the matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Hieronymus, "and what about -the other books?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you what," said David suddenly, "if -you'd come to my lodgings one day, you -could look at the books I've got and advise -me about others. That would be the -shortest and pleasantest way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By all means," said the historian. "Then -you have not yet given away your gifts?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet," said David quietly. "I am -waiting awhile."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he relapsed into silence and -timidity, and went on twisting his whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus was interested, but he had too -much delicate feeling to push the inquiry, and -not having a mathematical mind he was -quite unable to put two and two together -without help from another source. So he -just went on smoking his pipe, wondering all -the time what possible reason his companion -could have for collecting a library beginning -with Mrs. Hemans.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a remark about the weather and the -crops--Hieronymus was becoming quite -agricultural--David rose in an undecided kind of -manner, expressed his thanks, and took his -leave, but there was evidently something -more he wanted to say, and yet he went away -without saying it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure he wants to speak about the -pastry," thought Hieronymus. "Confound -him! Why doesn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment the door opened, and -David put his head in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something else I wanted to say," -he stammered out. "The fact is, I don't tell -anybody about the books I buy. It's my -own affair, and I like to keep it to myself. -But I'm sure I can trust you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should just think you could," Hieronymus -answered cheerily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he promised secrecy, and then followed -the exciseman to the door, and watched him -mount his horse and ride off. Mr. Benbow -was coming in at the time, and Hieronymus -said some few pleasant words about David Ellis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's the nicest man in these parts," -Mr. Benbow said warmly. "We all like him. -Joan Hammond will be a lucky girl if she gets -him for a husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he fond of her, then?" asked Hieronymus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has always been fond of her since I -can remember," Mr. Benbow answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Hieronymus, having received this -valuable assistance, proceeded carefully to -put two and two together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I know for whom the exciseman intends -his library!" he said to himself triumphantly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="auntie-lloyd-protests"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">AUNTIE LLOYD PROTESTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Auntie Lloyd was a material, highly prosperous -individual, utterly bereft of all ideas -except one; though, to be sure, the one idea -which she did possess was of overwhelming -bulk, being, indeed, the sense of her own -superiority over all people of all countries -and all centuries. This was manifest not -only in the way she spoke, but also in the -way she folded her hands together on the -buckle of her waist-belt, as though she were -murmuring: "Thank heaven, I am Auntie -Lloyd, and no one else!" All her relations, -and indeed all her neighbors, bowed down to -her authority; it was recognized by every one -that the mistress of the Tan-House Farm -was a personage who must not be disobeyed -in the smallest particular. There had been -one rebel in the camp for many years now: -Joan. She alone had dared to raise the -standard of revolt. At first she had lifted it -only an inch high; but strength and courage -had come with years, and now the standard -floated triumphantly in the air. And to-day it -reached its full height, for Auntie Lloyd had -driven over to the Malt-House Farm to -protest with her niece about this dictation, and -Joan, though she did not use the exact words, -had plainly told her to mind her own business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Auntie Lloyd had been considerably -"worked up" ever since she had heard the news -that Joan went to write for a gentleman at -the Green Dragon. Then she heard that -Joan not only wrote for him, but was also -seen walking about with him; for it was not -at all likely that an episode of this description -would pass without comment in Little -Stretton; and Auntie Lloyd was not the only -person who remarked and criticised. A bad -attack of sciatica had kept her from interfering -at the outset; but as soon as she was even -tolerably well she made a descent upon the -Malt-House Farm, having armed herself with -the most awe-inspiring bonnet and mantle -which her wardrobe could supply. But Joan -was proof against such terrors. She listened -to all Auntie Lloyd had to say, and merely -remarked that she did not consider it was -any one's affair but her own. That was the -most overwhelming statement that had ever -been made to Auntie Lloyd. No wonder -that she felt faint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is distinctly a family affair," she said -angrily. "If you're not careful, you'll lose -the chance of David Ellis. You can't -expect him to be dangling about your heels all -his life. He will soon be tired of waiting for -your pleasure. Do you suppose that he too -does not know you are amusing yourself with -this newcomer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan was pouring out tea at the time, and -her hand trembled as she filled the cup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't have David Ellis thrust down my -throat by you or by any one," she said determinedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that she looked at her watch, and -calmly said that it was time for her to be off -to the Green Dragon, Mr. Howard having -asked her to go in the afternoon instead of the -morning. But though she left Auntie Lloyd -quelled and paralyzed, and was conscious -that she had herself won the battle once and -for all, she was very much irritated and -distressed too. Hieronymus noticed that -something was wrong with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the matter?" he asked kindly. -"Has Auntie Lloyd been paying a visit to the -Malt-House Farm, and exasperated you -beyond all powers of endurance? Or was the -butter-making a failure? Or is it the same -old story--general detestation of every one -and everything in Little Stretton, together -with an inward determination to massacre the -whole village at the earliest opportunity?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan smiled, and looked up at the kind face -which always had such a restful influence on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> the root of the whole -matter," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry for you," he said gently, as he -turned to his papers, "but I think you are -not quite wise to let your discontent grow -beyond your control. Most people, you know, -when their lives are paralyzed, are found to -have but sorry material out of which to fashion -for themselves satisfaction and contentment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face flushed as he spoke, and a great -peace fell over her. When she was with him -all was well with her; the irritations at home, -the annoyances either within or without, -either real or imaginary, and indeed all -worries passed for the time out of her memory. -David Ellis was forgotten, Auntie Lloyd was -forgotten; the narrow, dull, everyday -existence broadened out into many interesting -possibilities. Life had something bright to offer -to Joan. She bent happily over the pages, -thoroughly enjoying her congenial task; and -now and again during the long pauses of -silence when Hieronymus was thinking out -his subject, she glanced at his kind face and -his silvered head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And restless little Joan was restful.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-distance-grows"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE DISTANCE GROWS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So the days slipped away, and Joan came -regularly to the Green Dragon to write to -the historian's dictation. These mornings -were red-letter days in her life; she had -never before had anything which she could -have called companionship, and now this best -of all pleasures was suddenly granted to her. -She knew well that it could not last; that -very soon the historian would go back into -his own world, and that she would be left -lonely, lonelier than ever. But meanwhile she -was happy. She always felt after having -been with him as though some sort of peace -had stolen over her. It did not hold her -long, this sense of peace. It was merely that -quieting influence which a mellowed nature -exercises at rare moments over an unmellowed -nature, being indeed a snatch of that wonderful -restfulness which has something divine in -its essence. She did not analyze her feelings -for him, she dared not. She just drifted on, -dreaming. And she was grateful to him too, -for she had unburdened her heavy heart to -him, and he had not laughed at her -aspirations and ambitions. He had certainly -made a little fun over her, but not in the way -that conveyed contempt; on the contrary, -his manner of teasing gave the impression of -the kindliest sympathy. He had spoken -sensible words of advice to her, too; not in any -formal set lecture--that would have been -impossible to him--but in detached sentences -given out at different times, with words -simple in themselves, but able to suggest many -good and noble thoughts. At least that was -what Joan gathered, that was her judgment -of him, that was the effect he produced on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he was not miserly of his learning. -He was not one of those scholars who keep -their wisdom for their narrow and appreciative -little set; he gave of his best to every -one with royal generosity, and he gave of -his best to her. He saw that she was really -interested in history, and that it pleased her -to hear him talk about it. Out then came his -stores of knowledge, all for her special -service! But that was only half of the process; -he taught her by finding out from her what -she knew, and then returning her knowledge -to her two-fold enriched. She was eager to -learn, and he was interested in her eagerness. -It was his nature to be kind and chivalrous -to every one, and he was therefore kind and -chivalrous to his little secretary. He saw her -constantly in "school hours," as he called the -time spent in dictating, and out of school -hours too. He took such an interest in all -matters connected with the village that he -was to be found everywhere, now gravely -contemplating the cows and comparing them -with Mr. Benbow's herd, now strolling through -the market-place, and now passing stern -criticisms on the butter and poultry, of which he -knew nothing. Once he even tried to sell -Joan Hammond's butter to Mrs. Benbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I assure you, ma'am," he said to the -landlady of the Green Dragon, "the very best -cooking butter in the kingdom! Taste and see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it </span><em class="italics">isn't</em><span> cooking butter!" interposed -Joan hastily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she laughed all the same, and -Hieronymus, much humbled by his mistake, made -no more attempts to sell butter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seemed thoroughly contented with his -life at Little Stretton, and in no hurry to join -his friends in Wales. He was so genial that -every one liked him and spoke kindly of him. -If he was driving in the pony-carriage and -saw any children trudging home after school, -he would find room for four or five of them -and take them back to the village in triumph. -If he met an old woman carrying a bundle -of wood, he immediately transferred the load -from herself to himself, and walked along by -her side, chatting merrily the while. As for -the tramps who passed on the highroad from -Ludlow to Church Stretton, they found in him -a sympathetic friend. His hand was always -in his pocket for them. He listened to their -tales of woe, and stroked the "property" -baby in the perambulator, and absolutely -refused to be brought to order by Mrs. Benbow, -who declared that she knew more about -tramps than he did, and that the best thing -to do with them was to send them about -their business as soon as possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will ruin the reputation of the Green -Dragon," she said, "if you go on entertaining -tramps outside. Take your friends over to -the other inn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought that this would be a strong -argument, as Hieronymus was particularly -proud of the Green Dragon, having discovered -that it was patronized by the aristocrats of -the village, and considered infinitely superior -to its rival, the Crown Inn opposite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the historian, so yielding in other -respects, continued his intimacies with the -tramps, sometimes even leaving his work if he -chanced to see an interesting-looking wanderer -slouching past the Green Dragon. Joan had -become accustomed to these interruptions. -She just sat waiting patiently until -Hieronymus came back, and plunged once more into -the History of the Dissolution of the -Monasteries, or the Attitude of the Foreign Powers -to each other during the latter years of Henry -VIII.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a troublesome fellow," he would say -to her sometimes, "and you are very patient -with me. In fact, you're a regular little brick -of a secretary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she would flush with pleasure to hear -his words of praise. But he never noticed -that, and never thought he was leading her -further and further away from her surroundings -and ties, and putting great distances -between herself and the exciseman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So little did he guess it that one day he -even ventured to joke with her. He had -been talking to her about John Richard -Green, the historian, and he asked her -whether she had read "A Short History of -the English People." She told him she had -never read it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you ought to have that book," he -said; and he immediately thought that he -would buy it for her. Then he remembered -the exciseman's library, and judged that it -would be better to let him buy it for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear you have a very devoted admirer -in the exciseman," Hieronymus said slyly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know that?" Joan said sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," he answered, "I was told." But he -saw that his volcanic little companion was -not too pleased; and so he began talking -about John Richard Green. He told her -about the man himself, his work, his suffering, -his personality. He told her how the young -men at Oxford were advised to travel on the -Continent to expand their minds, and if they -could not afford this advantage after their -university career, then they were to read -</span><em class="italics">John Richard Green</em><span>. He told her, too, of -his grave at Mentone, with the simple words, -"He died learning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus he would talk to her, taking her -always into a new world of interest. Then -she was in an enchanted kingdom, and he -was the magician.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a world in which agriculture and -dairy-farming and all the other wearinesses -of her everyday life had no part. Some -people might think it was but a poor enchanted -realm which he conjured up for her pleasure. -But enchantment, like every other emotion, -is but relative after all. Some little fragment -of intellectuality had been Joan's idea of -enchantment. And now it had come to her in a -way altogether unexpected, and in a measure -beyond all her calculations. It had come to -her, bringing with it something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed in a dream during all that time; -yes, she was slipping further away from her -own people, and further away from the -exciseman. She had never been very near to -him, but lately the distance had become -doubled. When she chanced to meet him -her manner was more than ordinarily cold. -If he had chosen to plead for himself, he -might well have asked what he had done to -her that he should deserve to be treated with -such bare unfriendliness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day he met her. She was riding the -great white horse, and David rode along -beside her. She chatted with him now and -again, but there were long pauses of silence -between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father has made up his mind to sell old -Nance," she said suddenly, as she stroked -the old mare's head. "This is my last ride on her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry," said David kindly. "She's an -old friend, isn't she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it is ridiculous to care so much," -Joan said; "but you know we've had her -such a time. And I used to hang round her -neck, and she would lift me up and swing me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember," said David eagerly. "I've -often watched you. I was always afraid you -would have a bad fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ran up and caught me once," Joan -said, "And I was so angry; for it wasn't -likely that old Nance would have let me fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how could I be sure that the little -arms were strong enough to cling firmly to -old Nance's neck?" David said. "So I couldn't -help being anxious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember when I was lost in that -mist," Joan said, "and you came and found -me, and carried me home? I was so angry -that you would not let me walk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have often been angry with me," -David said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan made no answer. She just shrugged -her shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There they were, these two, riding side by -side, and yet they were miles apart from -each other. David knew it, and grieved.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="david-laments"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">DAVID LAMENTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>David knew it, and grieved. He knew that -Joan's indifference was growing apace, and -that it had taken to itself alarming proportions -ever since the historian had been at the -Green Dragon. He had constantly met Joan -and Hieronymus together, and heard of them -being together, and of course he knew that -Joan wrote to the historian's dictation. He -never spoke on the subject to any one. Once -or twice Auntie Lloyd tried to begin, but he -looked straight before him and appeared not -to understand. Once or twice some other of -the folk made mention of the good-fellowship -which existed between Joan and the historian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's natural enough," he said quietly. -"Joan was always fond of books, and one -feels glad she can talk about them with some -one who is real clever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But was he glad? Poor David! Time after -time he looked at his little collection of books, -handling the volumes just as tenderly as one -handles one's memories, or one's hopes, or -one's old affections. He had not added to -the library since he had spoken to Hieronymus -and asked his advice on the choice of -suitable subjects. He had no heart to go on -with a hobby which seemed to have no -comfort in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-night he sat in his little sitting-room -smoking his pipe. He looked at his books -as usual, and then locked them up in his oak -chest. He sat thinking of Joan and -Hieronymus. There was no bitterness in David's -heart; there was only sorrow. He shared -with others a strong admiration for Hieronymus, an -admiration which the historian never -failed to win, though it was often quite -unconsciously received. So there was only -sorrow in David's heart, and no bitterness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clock was striking seven of the evening -when some one knocked at the door, and -Hieronymus came into the room. He was -in a particularly genial mood, and puffed his -pipe in great contentment. He settled down -by the fireside as though he had been there -all his life, and chatted away so cheerily that -David forgot his own melancholy in his -pleasure at having such a bright companion. -A bottle of whisky was produced, and the -coziness was complete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now for the books!" said Hieronymus. -"I am quite anxious to see your collection. -And look here; I have made a list of suitable -books which any one would like to have. -Now show me what you have already bought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David's misery returned all in a rush, and -he hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I care about the books now," -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What nonsense!" said Hieronymus. "You -are not shy about showing them to me? I -am sure you have bought some capital ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it wasn't that," David said quietly, -as he unlocked the oak chest and took out -the precious volumes and laid them on the -table. In spite of himself, however, some of -the old eagerness came over him, and he -stood by, waiting anxiously for the historian's -approval. Hieronymus groaned over -Mrs. Hemans' poetry, and Locke's "Human -Understanding," and Defoe's "History of the -Plague," and Cowper, and Hannah More. -He groaned inwardly, but outwardly he gave -grunts of encouragement. He patted David -on the shoulder when he found "Selections -from Browning," and he almost caressed him -when he proudly produced "Silas Marner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, David was proud of his treasures; -each one of them represented to him a whole -world of love and hope and consolation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus knew for whom the books were -intended, and he was touched by the -exciseman's quiet devotion and pride. He would -not have hurt David's feelings on any -account; he would have praised the books, -however unsuitable they might have seemed to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear fellow," he said, "you've done -capitally by yourself. You've chosen some -excellent books. Still, this list may help -you to go on, and I should advise you to -begin with 'Green's History of the English People.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David put the volumes back into the oak chest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I care about buying any -more," he said sadly. "It's no use."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Hieronymus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David looked at the historian's frank face, -and felt the same confidence in him which -all felt. He looked, and knew that this -man was loyal and good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's just this," David said, quite -simply. "I've loved her ever since she was -a baby-child. She was my own little -sweetheart then. I took care of her when she was -a wee thing, and I wanted to look after her -when she was a grown woman. It has just -been the hope of my life to make Joan my wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused a moment, and looked straight -into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know she is different from others, and -cleverer than any of us here, and all that. I -know she is always longing to get away from -Little Stretton. But I thought that perhaps -we might be happy together, and that then -she would not want to go. But I've never -been quite sure. I've just watched and -waited. I've loved her all my life. When -she was a wee baby I carried her about, and -knew how to stop her crying. She has -always been kinder to me than to any one else. -It was perhaps that which helped me to be -patient. At least, I knew she did not care -for any one else. It was just that she didn't -seem to turn to any one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had moved away from Hieronymus, -and stood knocking out the ashes from his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At least, I knew she did not care for any -one else," continued David, "until you came. -Now she cares for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus looked up quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, surely, you must be mistaken," -he said. David shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he answered, "I am not mistaken. -And I'm not the only one who has noticed -it. Since you've been here, my little Joan -has gone further and further away from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry," said Hieronymus. He had -taken his tobacco-pouch from his pocket, and -was slowly filling his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never meant to work harm to her -or you, or any one," the historian said sadly. -"If I had thought I was going to bring trouble -to any one here, I should not have stayed -on. But I've been very happy among -you all, and you've all been good to -me; and as the days went on I found myself -becoming attached to this little village. The -life was so simple and refreshing, and I was -glad to have the rest and the change. Your -little Joan and I have been much together, -it is true. She has written to my dictation, -and I found her so apt that, long after my -hand became well again, I preferred to dictate -rather than to write. Then we've walked -together, and we've talked seriously and -merrily, and sadly too. We've just been -comrades; nothing more. She seemed to me a -little discontented, and I tried to interest her -in things I happen to know, and so take her -out of herself. If I had had any idea that I -was doing more than that, I should have left -at once. I hope you don't doubt me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe every word you say," David said -warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am grateful for that," Hieronymus said, -and the two men grasped hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there is anything I could do to repair -my thoughtlessness," he said, "I will gladly -do it. But it is difficult to know what to do -and what to say. For perhaps, after all, you -may be mistaken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The exciseman shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said, "I am not mistaken. It -has been getting worse ever since you came. -There is nothing to say about it; it can't be -helped. It's just that sort of thing which -sometimes happens: no one to blame, but -the mischief is done all the same. I don't -know why I've told you about it. Perhaps I -meant to, perhaps I didn't. It seemed to -come naturally enough when we were talking -of the books."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was looking mournfully at the list which -Hieronymus had drawn out for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see that it's any use to me," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was going to screw it up and throw it -into the fire, but the historian prevented him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep it," he said kindly. "You may yet -want it. If I were you, I should go on -patiently adding book after book, and with each -book you buy, buy a little hope too. Who -knows? Some day your little Joan may want -you. But she will have to go out into the -world first and fight her battles. She is -one of those who </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> go out into the -world and buy her experiences for herself. -Those who hinder her are only hurting her. -Don't try to hinder her. Let her go. Some -day when she is tired she will be glad to lean -on some one whom she can trust. But she -must be tired first, and thus find out her -necessity. And it is when we find out our -necessity that our heart cries aloud. Then -it is that those who love us will not fail us. -They will be to us like the shadow of a great -rock in a weary land."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David made no answer, but he smoothed -out the crumpled piece of paper and put it -carefully into his pocket.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hieronymus-speaks"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HIERONYMUS SPEAKS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hieronymus was unhappy; the exciseman -might or might not be mistaken, but the fact -remained that some mischief had been done, -inasmuch as David Ellis' feelings were -wounded. Hieronymus felt that the best -thing for him to do was to go, though he quite -determined to wait until he saw the -hill-ponies gathered together. There was no -reason why he should hasten away as though -he were ashamed of himself. He knew that -not one word had been spoken to Joan which -he now wished to recall. His position was -a delicate one. He thought seriously over -the matter, and wondered how he might -devise a means of telling her a little about his -own life, and thus showing her, without -seeming to show her, that his whole heart was -filled with the memories of the past. He -could not say to Joan: "My little Joan, my -little secretary, they tell me that I have been -making havoc with your heart. Now listen -to me, child. If it is not true, then I am -glad. And if it is true, I am sad; because I -have been wounding you against my knowledge, -and putting you through suffering which -I might so easily have spared you. You will -recover from the suffering; but alas! little -Joan, that I should have been the one to -wound you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not say that to her, though he -would have wished to speak some such words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the next morning after his conversation -with David Ellis he sat in the parlor -of the Green Dragon fondling the ever -faithful Gamboge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan Hammond looked up once or twice -from her paper, wondering when the historian -would begin work. He seemed to be taking -a long time this morning to rouse himself to -activity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall take Gamboge with me when I go," -he said at last. "I've bought her for half a -crown. That is a paltry sum to give for such -a precious creature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you thinking of going, then?" asked -Joan fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he answered cheerily. "I must just -wait to see those rascals, the hill-ponies, and -then I must go back to the barbarous big -world, into which you are so anxious to penetrate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father has determined to sell Nance," she -said sadly; "so I can't saddle the white horse -and be off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you are sorry to lose your old friend?" -he said kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One has to give up everything," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not everything," Hieronymus said. "Not -the nasty things, for instance--only the nice -things!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan laughed and dipped her pen into the ink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The truth of it is, I'm not in the least -inclined to work this morning," said Hieronymus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan waited, the pen in her hand. He -had said that so many times before, and yet -he had always ended by doing some work -after all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe that my stern task-mistress, my -dear love who died so many years ago--I -believe that even she would give me a -holiday to-day," Hieronymus said. "And she -always claimed so much work of me; she was -never satisfied. I think she considered me a -lazy fellow, who needed spurring on. She -had great ambitions for me; she believed -everything of me, and wished me to work -out her ambitions, not for the sake of the -fame and the name, but for the sake of the -good it does us all to grapple with ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had drawn from his pocket a small -miniature of a sweet-looking woman. It was -a spiritual face, with tender eyes; a face to -linger in one's memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When she first died," Hieronymus -continued, as though to himself, "I could not -have written a line without this dear face -before me. It served to remind me that -although I was unhappy and lonely, I must -work if only to please her. That is what I -had done when she was alive, and it seemed -disloyal not to do so when she was dead. -And it was the only comfort I had; but a -strong comfort, filling full the heart. It is -ten years now since she died; but I scarcely -need the miniature, the dear face is always -before me. Ten years ago, and I am still -alive, and sometimes, often indeed, very -happy; she was always glad when I laughed -cheerily, or I made some fun out of nothing. -'What a stupid boy you are!' she would say. -But she laughed all the same. We were -very happy together, she and I; we had -loved each other a long time, in spite of many -difficulties and troubles. But the troubles -had cleared, and we were just going to make -our little home together when she died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no tremor in his voice as he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We enjoyed everything," he went on; -"every bit of fun, every bit of beauty--the -mere fact of living and loving, the mere fact -of the world being beautiful, the mere fact -of there being so much to do and to be and -to strive after. I was not very ambitious for -myself. At one time I </span><em class="italics">had</em><span> cared greatly; -then the desire had left me. But when she -first came into my life, she roused me from -my lethargy; she loved me, and did not wish -me to pause one moment in my life's work. -The old ambitions had left me, but for her -sake I revived them; she was my dear good -angel, but always, as I told her, a stern -task-giver. Then when she was gone, and I had -not her dear presence to help me, I just felt -I could not go on writing any more. Then -I remembered how ambitious she was for me, -and so I did not wait one moment. I took up -my work at once, and have tried to earn a -name and a fame for her sake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused and stirred the fire uneasily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was very difficult at first," he -continued; "everything was difficult. And even -now, after ten years, it is not always easy. -And I cared so little. That was the hardest -part of all: to learn to care again. But the -years pass, and we live through a tempest of -grief, and come out into a great calm. In -the tempest we fancied we were alone; in -the calm we know that we have not been -alone; that the dear face has been looking -at us lovingly, and the dear voice speaking -to us through the worst hours of the storm, -and the dear soul knitting itself closer and -closer to our soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan bent over the paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the days have passed into weeks and -months and years," he said, "and here am I, -still looking for my dear love's blessing and -approval; still looking to her for guidance, -to her and no one else. Others may be able -to give their heart twice over, but I am not -one of those. People talk of death effacing -love! as though death and love could have -any dealings the one with the other. They -always were strangers; they always will be -strangers. So year after year I mourn for -her, in my own way, happily, sorrowfully, -and always tenderly; sometimes with -laughter, sometimes with tears. When I see all -the beautiful green things of the world, and -sing from very delight, I know she would be -glad. When I make a good joke or turn a -clever sentence, I know she would smile her -praise. When I do my work well, I know -she would be satisfied. And though I may -fail in all I undertake, still there is the going -on trying. Thus I am always a mourner, -offering to her just that kind of remembrance -which her dear beautiful soul would cherish most."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was handling the little miniature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I see the face?" Joan asked very gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put the miniature in her hands. She -looked at it, and then returned it to him, -almost reverently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, little secretary," he said, in his -old cheery way, "I do believe I could do -some work if I tried. It's only a question -of will-power. Come, dip your pen in the -ink, and write as quickly as you can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dictated for nearly an hour, and then -Joan slipped off quickly home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up in her little bedroom it was all in vain -that she chased the tears from her face. -They came again, and they came again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has seen that I love him," she sobbed. -"And that was his dear kind way of telling -me that I was a foolish little child. Of -course I was a foolish little child, but I -couldn't help it! Indeed I couldn't help it. -And I must go on crying. No one need know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she went on crying, and no one knew.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hieronymus-goes"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HIERONYMUS GOES.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They were captured, those little wretches, -the hill-ponies, having been chased down from -all directions, and gathered together in the -enclosure set apart for their imprisonment. -There they were, cribbed, cabined, and -confined, some of them distressed, and all of -them highly indignant at the rough -treatment which they had received. This -gathering together of the wild ponies occurred two -or three times in the year, when the owners -assembled to identify their particular herd, -and to reimpress their mark on the ponies -which belonged to them. It was no easy -matter to drive them down from the hills; -though indeed they came down willingly -enough at night to seek what they might -devour. Then one might hear their little feet -pattering quickly over the ground, helter-skelter! -The villagers were well accustomed -to the sound. "It's only the hill-ponies, the -rascals!" they would say. But when they -were wanted, they would not come. They -led the beaters a rare dance over hill and dale; -but it always ended in the same way. Then, -after four or five years of life on the hills, -their owners sold them, and that was the -end of all their fun, and all their shagginess too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus stood near the enclosure -watching the proceedings with the greatest -interest. The men were trying to divide the -ponies into groups, according to the mark on -their backs. But this was no easy matter -either; the little creatures kicked and threw -themselves about in every direction but the -right one, and they were so strong that their -struggles were generally successful. The -sympathies of Hieronymus went with the -rebels, and he was much distressed when he -saw three men hanging on to the tail of one -of the ponies, and trying to keep him back -from another group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, you there!" he cried, waving his -stick. "I can't stand that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Benbow, who was standing near him, -laughed, and called him to order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now don't you be meddling with what -you don't understand," she said. "You may -know a good deal about books, but it's not -much you'll know about hill-ponies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's quite true," said Hieronymus humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along with me now," commanded -Mrs. Benbow, "and help me buy a red pig!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing but a red pig would have made -Hieronymus desert the hill-ponies. A red -pig was of course irresistible to any one in his -senses; and the historian followed contentedly -after the landlady of the Green Dragon. -She made her way among the crowds of -people who had come to this great horse-fair, -which was the most important one of the whole -year. Hieronymus was much interested in -every one and everything he saw; he looked -at the horses, and sheep, and cows, and -exchanged conversation with any one who would -talk to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a deal of money will change -hands to-day," said a jolly old farmer to him. -"But prices be dreadful low this year. Why, -the pigs be going for a mere nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to buy a pig," Hieronymus said -proudly, "a red one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said the farmer, looking at him with -a sort of indulgent disdain, "it's a breed as I -care nothing about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned to one of his colleagues, -evidently considering Hieronymus rather a -feeble kind of individual, with whom it was -not profitable to talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The historian was depressed for the -moment, but soon recovered his spirits when he -saw the fascinating red pigs. And his pride -and conceit knew no bounds when Mrs. Benbow -actually chose and bought the very -animal which he had recommended to her -notice. He saw David Ellis, and went to -tell him about the pig. The exciseman -laughed, and then looked sad again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My little Joan is very unhappy," he said, -half in a whisper. "The old white horse is -to be sold. Do you see her there yonder? -How I wish I could buy the old mare and -give her to Joan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be a very unwise thing for -you to do," said Hieronymus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said David. "And do you know, -I've been thinking of what you said about -her going out into the world. And I found -this advertisement. Shall I give it to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hieronymus looked at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a dear fellow, David," he said -warmly. "Yes, give it to her. And I too -have been thinking of what you said to me. -I've told her a little of my story, and she -knows now how my heart is altogether taken -up with my past. So, if I've done any harm -to her and you, I have tried to set it right. -And to-morrow I am going home. You will -see me off at the station?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be there," said the exciseman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was no sign in his manner that -he wished to be rid of Hieronymus. The -historian, who all unconsciously won people's -hearts, all unconsciously kept them too. -Even Auntie Lloyd, to whom he had been -presented, owned that he "had a way" about -him. (But then he had asked after her -sciatica!) He spoke a few words to Joan, -who stood lingering near the old white mare. -She had been a little shy of him since he had -talked so openly to her; and he had noticed -this, and used all his geniality to set her at -her ease again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is my last afternoon," he said to her, -"and I have crowned the achievements of my -visit here by choosing a red pig. Now I'm -going back to the big barbarous world to -boast of my new acquirements--brewing beer, -eating pastry, drinking beef-tea, cutting up -the beans, making onion pickles, and other -odd jobs assigned to me by Queen Elizabeth -of the Green Dragon. Here she comes to -fetch me, for we are going to drive the red -pig home in the cart. Then I'm to have some -tea with rum in it, and some of those -horrible Shropshire crumpets. Then if I'm alive -after the crumpets and the rum, there will -be a few more odd jobs for me to do, and -then to-morrow I go. As for yourself, little -secretary, you are going to put courage into -your heart, and fight your battles well. Tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said; and she looked up brightly, -though there were tears in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know those words, '</span><em class="italics">Hitch your -wagon to a star?</em><span>'" he said. "Emerson was -right. The wagon spins along merrily then. -And now good-bye, little secretary. You must -come and see me off at the station to-morrow. -I want all my friends around me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So on the morrow they gathered round -him, Mr. Benbow, Mrs. Benbow, two of the -Malt-House Farm boys, the old woman who -kept the grocer's shop, and who had been -doing a good trade in sweetmeats since -Hieronymus came, the exciseman, and Joan -Hammond, and old John of the wooden leg. -They were all there, sorrowful to part with -him, glad to have known him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you would only stay," said Mrs. Benbow; -"there are so many odd jobs for you to do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I must go," said the historian. "There -is an end to everything, excepting to your -beef-tea. But I've been very happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His luggage had increased since he came -to Little Stretton. He had arrived with a -small portmanteau; he went away with the -same portmanteau, an oak chair which -Mr. Benbow had given him, and a small hamper -containing Gamboge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care how you carry that hamper," -he said to the porter. "There is a dog -inside undergoing a cat incarnation!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Joan he said: "Little secretary, answer -the advertisement and go out into the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she promised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And to David he said: "When you've -finished that book-list write to me for -another one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he promised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the train moved off, and the dear -kind face was out of sight.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Benbow went home to do the -scouring and cleaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David rode off to Ludlow and bought a book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan sat in her room at the Malt-House -Farm, and cried her heart out. Then she -looked at the advertisement and answered it. -"It was kind of David," she said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So Joan went out into the world.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The weeks, the months, seem long without -her. He buys his books, and with every -new book he buys new comfort. He recalls -the historian's words: "Some day, when she -is tired, she will be glad to lean on some -one whom she can trust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So David waits.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="an-idyll-of-london"><span class="bold x-large">AN IDYLL OF LONDON.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BY BEATRICE HARRADEN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was one o'clock, and many of the -students in the National Gallery had left off -work, and were refreshing themselves with -lunch and conversation. There was one old -worker who had not stirred from his place; -but he had put down his brush, and had taken -from his pocket a small book, which was, -like its owner, thin and shabby of covering. -He seemed to find pleasure in reading it, for -he turned over its pages with all the -tenderness characteristic of one who loves what he -reads. Now and again he glanced at his -unfinished copy of the beautiful portrait of -Andrea del Sarto, and once his eyes rested on -another copy next to his, better and truer -than his; and once he stooped to pick up a -girl's prune-colored tie which had fallen from -the neighboring easel. After this he seemed -to become unconscious of his surroundings, -as unconscious indeed as any one of the -pictures near him. Any one might have been -justified in mistaking him for the portrait of -a man, but that his lips moved; for it was -his custom to read softly to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The students passed back to their places, -not troubling to notice him, because they -knew from experience that he never noticed -them, and that all greetings were wasted on -him, and all words were wanton expenditure -of breath. They had come to regard him -very much in the same way as many of us -regard the wonders of Nature, without -astonishment, without any questionings, and -often without any interest. One girl, a -newcomer, did chance to say to her companion:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How ill that old man looks!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he always looks like that," was the -answer. "You will soon get accustomed to -him. Come along! I must finish my 'Blind -Beggar' this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a few minutes most of the workers were -busy again, although there were some who -continued to chat quietly, and several young -men who seemed reluctant to leave their girl -friends, and who were by no means encouraged -to go! One young man came to claim -his book and pipe, which he had left in the -charge of a bright-eyed girl, who was copying -Sir Joshua's Angels. She gave him his -treasures, and received in exchange a dark-red -rose, which she fastened in her belt; and -then he returned to his portrait of Mrs. Siddons. -But there was something in his -disconsolate manner which made one suspect -that he thought less of Mrs. Siddons' beauty -than of the beauty of the girl who was -wearing the dark-red rose! The strangers -strolling through the rooms, stopped now and -again to peer curiously at the students' work. -They were stared at indignantly by the -students themselves, but they made no attempt -to move away, and even ventured sometimes -to pass criticisms of no tender character on -some of the copies. The fierce-looking man -who was copying "The Horse Fair" deliberately -put down his brushes, folded his arms, -and waited defiantly until they had gone by; -but others, wiser in their generation, went -on painting calmly. Several workers were -painting the new Raphael; one of them was -a white-haired old gentlewoman, whose hand -was trembling, and yet skillful still. More -than once she turned to give a few hints to -the young girl near her, who looked in some -distress and doubt. Just the needful help -was given, and then the girl plied her brush -merrily, smiling the while with pleasure and -gratitude. There seemed to be a genial, -kindly influence at work, a certain homeliness -too, which must needs assert itself where -many are gathered together, working side by -side. All made a harmony: the wonderful -pictures gathered from many lands and many -centuries, each with its meaning, and its -message from the Past; the ever-present -memories of the painters themselves, who had -worked and striven and conquered; and the -living human beings, each with his wealth -of earnest endeavor and hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, the old man read on uninterrupted, -until two hands were put over his -book, and a gentle voice said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Lindall, you have had no lunch again. -Do you know, I begin to hate Lucretius. He -always makes you forget your food."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked up, and something -like a smile passed over his joyless face when -he saw Helen Stanley bending over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he answered, "you must not hate -Lucretius. I have had more pleasant hours -with him than with any living person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, and came forward to examine her -copy of Andrea del Sarto's portrait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yours is better than mine," he said critically; -"in fact, mine is a failure. I think I -shall only get a small price for mine; indeed, -I doubt whether I shall get sufficient to pay -for my funeral."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak dismally," she answered, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I missed you yesterday," he continued, -half-dreamily. "I left my work, and I -wandered through the rooms, and I did not even -read Lucretius. Something seemed to have -gone out from my life; at first I thought it -must be my favorite Raphael, or the Murillo; -but it was neither the one nor the other, it -was you. That was strange, wasn't it? But -you know we get accustomed to anything, -and perhaps I should have missed you less -the second day, and by the end of a week I -should not have missed you at all. Mercifully, -we have in us the power of forgetting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not wish to plead for myself," she -said, "but I do not believe that you or any -one could really forget. That which outsiders -call forgetfulness might be called by the -better name of resignation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't care about talking anymore now," -he said suddenly, and he went to his easel -and worked silently at his picture; and Helen -Stanley glanced at him, and thought she had -never seen her old companion look so forlorn -and desolate as he did to-day. He looked -as if no gentle hand had ever been placed on -him in kindliness and affection; and that -seemed to her a terrible thing, for she was -one of those prehistorically-minded persons -who persist in believing that affection is as -needful to human life as rain to flower-life. -When first she came to work at the gallery, -some twelve months ago, she had noticed -this old man, and had wished for his -companionship; she was herself lonely and -sorrowful, and, although young, had to fight -her own battles, and had learned something -of the difficulties of fighting; and this had -given her an experience beyond her years. -She was not more than twenty-four years of -age, but she looked rather older, and though -she had beautiful eyes, full of meaning and -kindness, her features were decidedly plain -as well as unattractive. There were some -in the Gallery who said among themselves -jestingly, that Mr. Lindall had waited so -many years before talking to any one, he -might have chosen some one better worth -the waiting for! But they soon got -accustomed to seeing Helen Stanley and Mr. Lindall -together, and they laughed less than -before; and meanwhile the acquaintance -ripened into a sort of friendship, half sulky on -his part, and wholly kind on her part. He -told her nothing about himself, and asked -nothing about herself; for weeks he never -even knew her name. Sometimes he did not -speak at all, and the two friends would work -silently side by side until it was time to go; -and then he waited until she was ready, and -walked with her across Trafalgar Square, -where they parted and went their own ways.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But occasionally, when she least expected -it, he would speak with glowing enthusiasm -on art; then his eyes seemed to become -bright, and his bent figure more erect, and -his whole bearing proud and dignified. There -were times, too, when he would speak on -other subjects; on the morality of free -thought, and on those who had died to -indicate free thought; on Bruno, of blessed -memory, on him, and scores of others too. -He would speak of the different schools of -philosophy; he would laugh at himself, and at -all who, having given time and thought to -the study of life's complicated problems, had -not reached one step farther than the old -world thinkers. Perhaps he would quote -one of his favorite philosophers, and then -suddenly relapse into silence, returning to his -wonted abstraction, and to his indifference -to his surroundings. Helen Stanley had -learned to understand his ways, and to -appreciate his mind, and, without intruding on -him in any manner, had put herself gently -into his life, as his quiet companion and his -friend. No one, in her presence, dared to -speak slightingly of the old man, to make fun -of his tumble-down appearance, or of his -worn-out silk hat with a crack in the side, -or of his rag of a black tie, which, together -with his overcoat, had "seen better days." Once -she brought her needle and thread, -and darned the torn sleeve during her lunch -time; and though he never knew it, it was a -satisfaction to her to have helped him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day she noticed that he was painting -badly, and that he seemed to take no interest -in his work; but she went on busily with her -own picture, and was so engrossed in it that -she did not at first observe that he had -packed up his brushes, and was preparing to -go home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three more strokes," he said quietly, "and -you will have finished your picture. I shall -never finish mine. Perhaps you will be good -enough to set it right for me. I am not -coming here again. I don't seem to have caught -the true expression; what do you think? -But I am not going to let it worry me, for -I am sure you will promise to do your best -for me. See, I will hand over these colors -and these brushes to you, and no doubt you -will accept the palette as well. I have no -further use for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen Stanley took the palette which he -held out toward her, and looked at him as -though she would wish to question him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is very hot here," he continued, "and -I am going out. I am tired of work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated, and then added: "I should -like you to come with me, if you can spare -the time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She packed up her things at once, and the -two friends moved slowly away, he gazing -absently at the pictures, and she wondering -in her mind as to the meaning of his strange -mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were on the steps inside the -building, he turned to Helen Stanley and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to go back to the pictures -once more. I feel as if I must stand among -them just a little longer. They have been my -companions for so long that they are almost -part of myself. I can close my eyes and -recall them faithfully. But I want to take a -last look at them; I want to feel once more -the presence of the great masters, and to -refresh my mind with their genius. When I -look at their work, I think of their life, and -can only wonder at their deaths. It was so -strange that they should die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went back together, and he took her -to his favorite pictures, but remained speechless -before them, and she did not disturb his -thoughts. At last he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ready to go. I have said farewell to -them all. I know of nothing more wonderful -than being among a number of fine -pictures. It is almost overwhelming. One -expects Nature to be grand; but one does not -expect Man to be grand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know we don't agree there," she -answered. "</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> expect everything grand and -great from Man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went out of the Gallery, and into -Trafalgar Square. It was a scorching -afternoon in August, but there was some cooling -comfort in seeing the dancing water of the -fountains sparkling so brightly in the sunshine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind stopping here a few minutes?" -he said. "I should like to sit down -and watch. There is so much to see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She led the way to a seat, one end of -which was occupied by a workman, who was -sleeping soundly, and snoring too, his arms -folded tightly together. He had a little clay -pipe in the corner of his mouth; it seemed -to be tucked in so snugly that there was not -much danger of its falling to the ground. -At last Helen spoke to her companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by saying that you -will not be able to finish your picture? -Perhaps you are not well--indeed, you don't -look well. You make me anxious, for I -have a great regard for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ill and suffering," he answered -quietly. "I thought I should have died -yesterday; but I made up my mind to live until -I saw you again, and I thought I would ask -you to spend the afternoon with me and go -with me to Westminster Abbey, and sit -with me in the Cloisters. I do not feel able -to go by myself, and I know of no one to -ask except you; and I believed you would not -refuse me, for you have been very kind to -me. I do not quite understand why you -have been kind to me, but I am wonderfully -grateful to you. To-day I heard some one -in the Gallery say that you were plain; I -turned round and I said, 'I beg your pardon, -I think she is very beautiful.' I think they -laughed, and that puzzled me; for you have -always seemed to me a very beautiful person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment the little clay pipe fell -from the workman's mouth, and was broken -into bits. He awoke with a start, gazed -stupidly at the old man and his companion, -and at the broken clay pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Curse my luck!" he said, yawning. "I -was fond of that damned little pipe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man drew his own pipe and his -own tobacco-pouch from his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take these, stranger," he said. "I don't -want them. And good luck to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man's face brightened up as he took -the pipe and pouch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're uncommon kind," he said. "Can -you spare them?" he added, holding them -out half-reluctantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered the old man; "I shall not -smoke again. You may as well have these -matches, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The laborer put them in his pocket, smiled -his thanks, and walked some little -distance off; and Helen watched him examine -his new pipe, and then fill it with tobacco -and light it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Lindall proposed that they should be -getting on their way to Westminster, and -they soon found themselves in the Abbey. -They sat together in the Poet's Corner. A -smile of quiet happiness broke over the old -man's tired face as he looked around and -took in all the solemn beauty and grandeur -of the resting place of the great.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know," he said half to himself, half -to his companion, "I have no belief of any -kind, and no hopes and no fears; but all -through my life it has been a comfort to me -to sit quietly in a church or a cathedral. -The graceful arches, the sun shining through -the stained windows, the vaulted roof, the -noble columns, have helped me to understand -the mystery which all our books of philosophy -cannot make clear, though we bend over -them year after year, and grow old over them, -old in age and in spirit. Though I myself -have never been outwardly a worshiper, I -have never sat in a place of worship but that, -for the time being, I have felt a better man. -But directly the voice of doctrine or dogma -was raised, the spell was broken for me, and -that which I hoped was being made clear had -no further meaning for me. There was only -one voice which ever helped me, the voice of -the organ arousing me, filling me with strange -longing, with welcome sadness, with solemn -gladness. I have always thought that music -can give an answer when everything else is -of no avail. I do not know what you believe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so young to have found out," she -said, almost pleadingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't worry yourself," he answered kindly. -"Be brave and strong, and let the rest go. -I should like to live long enough to see what -you will make of your life. I believe you -will never be false to yourself or to any one. -That is rare. I believe you will not let any -lower ideal take the place of your high ideal -of what is beautiful and noble in art, in life. -I believe that you will never let despair get -the upper hand of you. If it does, you may -as well die; yes, you may as well die. And -I entreat you not to lose your entire faith in -humanity. There is nothing like that for -withering up the very core of the heart. I -tell you, humanity and nature have so much -in common with each other that if you lose -your entire faith in the former, you will lose -part of your pleasure in the latter; you will -see less beauty in the trees, the flowers, and -the fields, less grandeur in the mighty -mountains and the sea; the seasons will come and -go, and you will scarcely heed their coming -and going; winter will settle over your soul, -just as it settled over mine. And you see -what I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had now passed into the Cloisters, -and they sat down in one of the recesses of -the windows, and looked out upon the rich -plot of grass which the Cloisters inclose. -There was not a soul there except themselves; -the cool and the quiet and the beauty of the -spot refreshed these pilgrims, and they rested -in calm enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen was the first to break the silence. -"I am glad you have brought me here," she -said; "I shall never grumble now at not -being able to afford a fortnight in the country. -This is better than anything else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has always been my summer holiday -to come here," he said. "When I first came -I was like you, young and hopeful, and I had -wonderful visions of what I intended to do -and to be. Here it was I made a vow that -I would become a great painter, and win for -myself a resting-place in this very abbey. -There is humor in the situation, is there not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like to hear you say that," she -answered. "It is not always possible for us to -fulfill all our ambitions. Still, it is better to -have had them and failed of them, than not -to have had them at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly," he replied coldly. Then he -added: "I wish you would tell me something -about yourself. You have always interested me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have nothing to tell you about myself," -she answered frankly. "I am alone in the -world, without friends and without relations. -The very name I use is not a real name. I -was a foundling. At times I am sorry I do -not belong to any one, and at other times I -am glad there is no one whom I might possibly -vex and disappoint. You know I am fond -of books and of art, so my life is not -altogether empty, and I find my pleasure in hard -work. When I saw you at the gallery I -wished to know you, and I asked one of the -students who you were. He told me you were -a misanthrope, and I was sorry, because I -believed that humanity ought to be helped and -loved, not despised. Then I did not care so -much about knowing you, until one day you -spoke to me about my painting, and that was -the beginning of our friendship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forty years ago," he said sadly, "the friend -of my boyhood deceived me. I had not -thought it possible that he could be false to -me. He screened himself behind me, and -became prosperous and respected at the -expense of my honor. I vowed I would never -again make a friend. A few years later, when -I was beginning to hold up my head, the -woman whom I loved deceived me. Then I put -from me all affection and all love. Greater -natures than mine are better able to bear -these troubles, but my heart contracted and -withered up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused for a moment, many recollections -overpowering him. Then he went on -telling her the history of his life, unfolding -to her the story of his hopes and ambitions, -describing to her the very home where he -was born, and the dark-eyed sister whom he -had loved, and with whom he had played -over the daisied fields and through the -carpeted woods, and all among the richly tinted -bracken. One day he was told she was dead, -and that he must never speak her name; but -he spoke it all the day and all the night--Beryl, -nothing but Beryl; and he looked for -her in the fields and in the woods and among -the bracken. It seemed as if he had -unlocked the casket of his heart, closed for so -many years, and as if all the memories of -the past and all the secrets of his life were -rushing out, glad to be free once more, and -grateful for the open air of sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beryl was as swift as a deer," he -exclaimed. "You would have laughed to see -her on the moor. Ah, it was hard to give -up all thoughts of meeting her again. They -told me I should see her in heaven, but I did -not care about heaven. I wanted Beryl on -earth, as I knew her, a merry, laughing -sister. I think you are right; we don't forget, -we become resigned in a dead, dull kind of way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he said: "I don't know why I -have told you all this. And yet it has been -such a pleasure to me. You are the only -person to whom I could have spoken about -myself, for no one else but you would have cared."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you think," she said gently, "that -you made a mistake in letting your -experiences embitter you? Because you had been -unlucky in one or two instances, it did not -follow that all the world was against you. -Perhaps you unconsciously put yourself -against all the world, and therefore saw -every one in an unfavorable light. It seems -so easy to do that. Trouble comes to most -people, doesn't it? and your philosophy should -have taught you to make the best of it. At -least, that is my notion of the value of philosophy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke timidly and hesitatingly, as -though she gave utterance to these words -against her will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure you are right, child," he said -eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hands to his eyes, but he could -not keep back the tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been such a lonely old man," he -sobbed; "no one can tell what a lonely, -loveless life mine has been. If I were not so old -and so tired, I should like to begin all over -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sobbed for many minutes, and she did -not know what to say to him of comfort; but -she took his hand within her own and gently -caressed it, as one might do to a little child -in pain. He looked up and smiled through -his tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been very good to me," he said, -"and I dare say you have thought me -ungrateful. You mended my coat for me one -morning, and not a day has passed but that I -have looked at the darn and thought of you. -I like to remember that you have done it for -me. But you have done far more than this -for me; you have put some sweetness into -my life. Whatever becomes of me hereafter, -I shall never be able to think of my life on -earth as anything but beautiful, because you -thought kindly of me, and acted kindly for me. -The other night, when this terrible pain came -over me, I wished you were near me; I -wished to hear your voice. There is very -beautiful music in your voice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would have come to you gladly," she -said, smiling quietly at him. "You must -make a promise that when you feel ill again -you will send for me. Then you will -see what a splendid nurse I am, and how -soon you will become strong and well under -my care; strong enough to paint many more -pictures, each one better than the last. Now, -will you promise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, and he raised her hand -reverently to his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not angry with me for doing -that?" he asked suddenly. "I should not -like to vex you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not vexed," she answered kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then perhaps I may kiss it once more?" -he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she answered, and again he raised -her hand to his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," he said quietly, "that was -kind of you. Do you see that broken sun-ray -yonder? Is it not golden? I find it very -pleasant to sit here; and I am quite happy -and almost free from pain. Lately I have -been troubled with a dull, thudding pain near -my heart, but now I feel so strong that I -believe I shall finish that Andrea del Sarto -after all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you will," she answered cheerily, -"and I shall have to confess that yours -is better than mine. I am quite willing to -yield the palm to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must alter the expression of the mouth," -he replied. "That is the part which has -worried me. I don't think I told you that I -have had a commission to copy Rembrandt's -old Jew. I must set to work on that next week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you have given me your palette and -brushes!" she laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must be generous enough to lend -them to me," he said, smiling. "By the -way, I intend to give you my books, all of -them. Some day I must show them to you; -I especially value my philosophical books, they -have been my faithful companions through -many years. I believe you do not read Greek. -That is a pity, because you would surely -enjoy Aristotle. I think I must teach you Greek; -it would be an agreeable legacy to leave you -when I pass away into the Great Silence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to learn," she said, wondering -to hear him speak so unreservedly. It -seemed as if some great barrier had been -rolled aside, and as if she were getting to -know him better, having been allowed to -glance into his past life, to sympathize with -his past mistakes, and with the failure of his -ambitions, and with the deadening of his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must read Æschylus," he continued -enthusiastically, "and if I mistake not, the -'Agamemnon' will mark an epoch in your -life. You will find that all these studies will -serve to ennoble your art, and you will be -able to put mind into your work, and not -merely form and color. Do you know, I -feel so well that I believe I shall not only -live to finish Andrea del Sarto, but also to -smoke another pipe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been too rash to-day," she -laughed, "giving away your pipe and pouch, -your palette and brushes in this reckless -manner! I must get you a new pipe to-morrow. -I wonder you did not part with your -venerable Lucretius."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That reminds me," he said, fumbling in -his pocket, "I think I have dropped my -Lucretius. I fancy I left it somewhere in the -Poet's Corner. It would grieve me to lose -that book."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go and look for it," she said, and -she advanced a few steps and then came back -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been saying many kind words -to me," she said, as she put her hand on his -arm, "and I have not told you that I value -your friendship and am grateful to you for -letting me be more than a mere stranger to -you. I have been very lonely in my life, for -I am not one to make friends easily, and it -has been a great privilege to me to talk with -you. I want you to know this; for if I have -been anything to you, you have been a great -deal to me. You see, although I am young, -I have long since learned somewhat of sorrow. -I have had hard times and hard words, and -have never met with much sympathy from -those of my own age. I have found them -narrow and unyielding, and they found me -dull and uninteresting. They had passed -through few experiences and knew nothing -about failure or success, and some of them -did not even understand the earnestness of -endeavor, and laughed at me when I spoke -of a high ideal. So I withdrew into myself, -and should probably have grown still more -isolated than I was before, but that I met you, -and as time went on we became friends. I -shall always remember your teaching, and, -though all the world may laugh, I will try to -keep to a high ideal of life and art, and I will -not let despair creep into my heart, and I -will not lose my faith in humanity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke, a lingering ray of sunshine -fit up her face and gently caressed her soft -brown hair; slight though her form, and -somber her clothes, and unlovely her -features, she seemed a gracious presence, -beautiful and gladdening, because of her -earnestness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," she said, "you rest here until I -come back with your Lucretius, and then I -think I must be getting on my way home. But -you must fix a time for our first Greek lesson; -for we must begin to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she had gone he walked in the Cloisters, -holding his hat in his hand and his stick -under his arm. There was a quiet smile on -his face, which was called forth by pleasant -thoughts in his mind, and he did not look -quite so shrunken and shriveled as usual. -His eyes were fixed on the ground; but he -raised them and observed a white cat -creeping toward him. It came and rubbed itself -against his foot, and purring with all its -might, seemed determined to win some kind -of notice from him. The old man stooped -down to stroke it, and was just touching its -sleek coat, when he suddenly withdrew his -hand and groaned deeply. He struggled to -the recess and sank back. The stick fell on -the stone with a clatter, and the battered -hat rolled down beside it, and the white cat -fled away in terror; but realizing that there -was no cause for alarm, it came back and -crouched near the silent figure of the old man, -watching him intently. Then it stretched out -its paw and played with his hand, doing its -utmost to coax him into a little fun; but he -would not be coaxed, and the cat lost all -patience with him, and left him to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Helen Stanley was looking for -the lost Lucretius in the Poet's Corner. -She found it lying near Chaucer's tomb, and -was just going to take it to her friend when -she saw the workman to whom they had -spoken in Trafalgar Square. He recognized -her at once and came toward her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been having a quiet half-hour here," -he said. "It does me a sight of good to sit -in the Abbey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should go into the Cloisters," she -said kindly. "I have been sitting there with -my friend. He will be interested to hear -that you love this beautiful Abbey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to see him again," said the -workman. "He had a kind way about him, -and that pipe he gave me is an uncommon -good one; still, I am sorry I smashed the -little clay pipe. I'd grown used to it. I'd -smoked it ever since my little girl died and -left me alone in the world. I used to bring -my little girl here, and now I come alone; -but it isn't the same thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it could not be the same thing," said -Helen gently; "but you find some little -comfort here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some little comfort," he answered. "One -can't expect much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went together into the Cloisters, and -as they came near the recess where the old -man rested, Helen said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, he has fallen asleep! He must -have been very tired. And he has dropped -his hat and stick. Thank you, if you will -put them down there I will watch by his -side-until he wakes up. I don't suppose he -will sleep for long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The workman stooped down to pick up the -hat and stick, and glanced at the sleeper. -Something in the sleeper's countenance -arrested his attention. He turned to the girl -and saw that she was watching him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" she asked anxiously. "What -is the matter with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to speak, but his voice failed him, -and all he could do was to point with -trembling hand to the old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Helen looked, and a loud cry broke from -her lips. The old man was dead.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A BIRD OF PASSAGE AND OTHER STORIES</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44322"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44322</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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