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diff --git a/old/53028-8.txt b/old/53028-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e9c3007..0000000 --- a/old/53028-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8097 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Hampdenshire Wonder, by John Davys Beresford - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Hampdenshire Wonder - -Author: John Davys Beresford - -Release Date: September 11, 2016 [EBook #53028] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPDENSHIRE WONDER *** - - - - -Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project -Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously -made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - THE HAMPDENSHIRE WONDER - - BY - - J. D. BERESFORD - AUTHOR OF "THE EARLY HISTORY OF JACOB STAHL" - - - - LONDON - SIDGWICK & JACKSON, Ltd. - 3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI - 1911 - - - - - - - - To - - MY FRIEND AND CRITIC - - ARTHUR SCOTT CRAVEN - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -MY EARLY ASSOCIATIONS WITH GINGER STOTT - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. THE MOTIVE 3 - II. NOTES FOR A BIOGRAPHY OF GINGER STOTT 14 - III. THE DISILLUSIONMENT OF GINGER STOTT 52 - - -PART II - -THE CHILDHOOD OF THE WONDER - - IV. THE MANNER OF HIS BIRTH 65 - V. HIS DEPARTURE FROM STOKE-UNDERHILL 86 - VI. HIS FATHER'S DESERTION 101 - VII. HIS DEBT TO HENRY CHALLIS 113 - VIII. HIS FIRST VISIT TO CHALLIS COURT 139 - - -INTERLUDE 145 - - -PART II (continued) - -THE WONDER AMONG BOOKS - - IX. HIS PASSAGE THROUGH THE PRISON OF - KNOWLEDGE 151 - X. HIS PASTORS AND MASTERS 175 - XI. HIS EXAMINATION 189 - XII. FUGITIVE 213 - - -PART III - -MY ASSOCIATION WITH THE WONDER - - XIII. HOW I WENT TO PYM TO WRITE A BOOK 219 - XIV. THE INCIPIENCE OF MY SUBJECTION TO - THE WONDER 230 - XV. THE PROGRESS AND RELAXATION OF MY - SUBJECTION 251 - XVI. RELEASE 268 - XVII. IMPLICATIONS 283 - - -EPILOGUE: THE USES OF MYSTERY 289 - - - - - - - -PART I - -MY EARLY ASSOCIATIONS WITH GINGER STOTT - - -CHAPTER I - -THE MOTIVE - - -I - -I could not say at which station the woman and her baby entered -the train. - -Since we had left London I had been engrossed in Henri Bergson's -"Time and Free Will," as it is called in the English translation. I -had been conscious of various stoppages and changes of passengers, -but my attention had been held by Bergson's argument. I agreed with -his conclusion in advance, but I wished to master his reasoning. - -I looked up when the woman entered my compartment, though I did not -notice the name of the station. I caught sight of the baby she was -carrying, and turned back to my book. I thought the child was a freak, -an abnormality; and such things disgust me. - -I returned to the study of my Bergson and read: "It is at the great -and solemn crisis, decisive of our reputation with others, that we -choose in defiance of what is conventionally called a motive, and -this absence of any tangible reason is the more striking the deeper -our freedom goes." - -I kept my eyes on the book--the train had started again--but the next -passage conveyed no meaning to my mind, and as I attempted to re-read -it an impression was interposed between me and the work I was studying. - -I saw projected on the page before me an image which I mistook at first -for the likeness of Richard Owen. It was the conformation of the head -that gave rise to the mistake, a head domed and massive, white and -smooth--it was a head that had always interested me. But as I looked, -my mind already searching for the reason of this hallucination, I saw -that the lower part of the face was that of an infant. My eyes wandered -from the book, and my gaze fluttered along the four persons seated -opposite to me, till they rested on the reality of my vision. Even -as these acts were being performed, I found myself foolishly saying, -"I don't call this freedom." - -For several seconds the eyes of the infant held mine. Its gaze was -steady and clear as that of a normal child, but what differentiated -it was the impression one received of calm intelligence. The head -was completely bald, and there was no trace of eyebrows, but the eyes -themselves were protected by thick, short lashes. - -The child turned its head, and I felt my muscles relax. Until then -I had not been conscious that they had been stiffened. My gaze was -released, pushed aside as it were, and I found myself watching the -object of the child's next scrutiny. - -This object was a man of forty or so, inclined to corpulence, -and untidy. He bore the evidences of failure in the process of -becoming. He wore a beard that was scanty and ragged, there were -bare patches of skin on the jaw; one inferred that he wore that beard -only to save the trouble of shaving. He was sitting next to me, the -middle passenger of the three on my side of the carriage, and he was -absorbed in the pages of a half-penny paper--I think he was reading -the Police News--which was interposed between him and the child in -the corner diagonally opposite to that which I occupied. - -The man was hunched up, slouching, his legs crossed, his elbows seeking -support against his body; he held with both hands his paper, unfolded, -close to his eyes. He had the appearance of being very myopic, but -he did not wear glasses. - -As I watched him, he began to fidget. He uncrossed his legs and hunched -his body deeper into the back of his seat. Presently his eyes began -to creep up the paper in front of him. When they reached the top, -he hesitated a moment, making a survey under cover, then he dropped -his hands and stared stupidly at the infant in the corner, his mouth -slightly open, his feet pulled in under the seat of the carriage. - -As the child let him go, his head drooped, and then he turned and -looked at me with a silly, vacuous smile. I looked away hurriedly; -this was not a man with whom I cared to share experience. - -The process was repeated. The next victim was a big, rubicund, -healthy-looking man, clean shaved, with light-blue eyes that were -slightly magnified by the glasses of his gold-mounted spectacles. He, -too, had been reading a newspaper--the Evening Standard--until the -child's gaze claimed his attention, and he, too, was held motionless by -that strange, appraising stare. But when he was released, his surprise -found vent in words. "This," I thought, "is the man accustomed to act." - -"A very remarkable child, ma'am" he said, addressing the thin, -ascetic-looking mother. - - - -II - -The mother's appearance did not convey the impression of poverty. She -was, indeed, warmly, decently, and becomingly clad. She wore a long -black coat, braided and frogged; it had the air of belonging to an -older fashion, but the material of it was new. And her bonnet, trimmed -with jet ornaments growing on stalks that waved tremulously--that, -also, was a modern replica of an older mode. On her hands were black -thread gloves, somewhat ill-fitting. - -Her face was not that of a country woman. The thin, high-bridged -nose, the fallen cheeks, the shadows under eyes gloomy and -retrospective--these were marks of the town; above all, perhaps, -that sallow greyness of the skin which speaks of confinement.... - -The child looked healthy enough. Its great bald head shone -resplendently like a globe of alabaster. - -"A very remarkable child, ma'am," said the rubicund man who sat facing -the woman. - -The woman twitched her untidy-looking black eyebrows, her head trembled -slightly and set the jet fruit of her bonnet dancing and nodding. - -"Yes, sir," she replied. - -"Very remarkable," said the man, adjusting his spectacles and leaning -forward. His action had an air of deliberate courage; he was justifying -his fortitude after that temporary aberration. - -I watched him a little nervously. I remembered my feelings when, -as a child, I had seen some magnificent enter the lion's den in a -travelling circus. The failure on my right was, also, absorbed in -the spectacle; he stared, open-mouthed, his eyes blinking and shifting. - -The other three occupants of the compartment, sitting on the same side -as the woman, back to the engine, dropped papers and magazines and -turned their heads, all interest. None of these three had, so far as -I had observed, fallen under the spell of inspection by the infant, -but I noticed that the man--an artisan apparently--who sat next to -the woman had edged away from her, and that the three passengers -opposite to me were huddled towards my end of the compartment. - -The child had abstracted its gaze, which was now directed down the -aisle of the carriage, indefinitely focussed on some point outside the -window. It seemed remote, entirely unconcerned with any human being. - -I speak of it asexually. I was still uncertain as to its sex. It is -true that all babies look alike to me; but I should have known that -this child was male, the conformation of the skull alone should have -told me that. It was its dress that gave me cause to hesitate. It -was dressed absurdly, not in "long-clothes," but in a long frock that -hid its feet and was bunched about its body. - - - -III - -"Er--does it--er--can it--talk?" hesitated the rubicund man, and I -grew hot at his boldness. There seemed to be something disrespectful -in speaking before the child in this impersonal way. - -"No, sir, he's never made a sound," replied the woman, twitching and -vibrating. Her heavy, dark eyebrows jerked spasmodically, nervously. - -"Never cried?" persisted the interrogator. - -"Never once, sir." - -"Dumb, eh?" He said it as an aside, half under his breath. - -"'E's never spoke, sir." - -"Hm!" The man cleared his throat and braced himself with a deliberate -and obvious effort. "Is it--he--not water on the brain--what?" - -I felt that a rigour of breathless suspense held every occupant of -the compartment. I wanted, and I know that every other person there -wanted, to say, "Look out! Don't go too far." The child, however, -seemed unconscious of the insult: he still stared out through the -window, lost in profound contemplation. - -"No, sir, oh no!" replied the woman. "'E's got more sense than a -ordinary child." She held the infant as if it were some priceless -piece of earthenware, not nursing it as a woman nurses a baby, but -balancing it with supreme attention in her lap. - -"How old is he?" - -We had been awaiting this question. - -"A year and nine munse, sir." - -"Ought to have spoken before that, oughtn't he?" - -"Never even cried, sir," said the woman. She regarded the child -with a look into which I read something of apprehension. If it were -apprehension it was a feeling that we all shared. But the rubicund -man was magnificent, though, like the lion tamer of my youthful -experience, he was doubtless conscious of the aspect his temerity -wore in the eyes of beholders. He must have been showing off. - -"Have you taken opinion?" he asked; and then, seeing the woman's lack -of comprehension, he translated the question--badly, for he conveyed -a different meaning--thus, - -"I mean, have you had a doctor for him?" - -The train was slackening speed. - -"Oh! yes, sir." - -"And what do they say?" - -The child turned its head and looked the rubicund man full in the -eyes. Never in the face of any man or woman have I seen such an -expression of sublime pity and contempt.... - -I remembered a small urchin I had once seen at the Zoological -Gardens. Urged on by a band of other urchins, he was throwing pebbles -at a great lion that lolled, finely indifferent, on the floor of its -playground. Closer crept the urchin; he grew splendidly bold; he threw -larger and larger pebbles, until the lion rose suddenly with a roar, -and dashed fiercely down to the bars of its cage. - -I thought of that urchin's scared, shrieking face now, as the rubicund -man leant quickly back into his corner. - -Yet that was not all, for the infant, satisfied, perhaps, with its -victim's ignominy, turned and looked at me with a cynical smile. I was, -as it were, taken into its confidence. I felt flattered, undeservedly -yet enormously flattered. I blushed, I may have simpered. - -The train drew up in Great Hittenden station. - -The woman gathered her priceless possession carefully into her arms, -and the rubicund man adroitly opened the door for her. - -"Good day, sir," she said, as she got out. - -"Good day," echoed the rubicund man with relief, and we all drew -a deep breath of relief with him in concert, as though we had just -witnessed the safe descent of some over-daring aviator. - - - -IV - -As the train moved on, we six, who had been fellow-passengers for some -thirty or forty minutes before the woman had entered our compartment, -we who had not till then exchanged a word, broke suddenly into general -conversation. - -"Water on the brain; I don't care what any one says," asserted the -rubicund man. - -"My sister had one very similar", put in the failure, who was -sitting next to me. "It died," he added, by way of giving point to -his instance. - -"Ought not to exhibit freaks like that in public," said an old man -opposite to me. - -"You're right, sir," was the verdict of the artisan, and he spat -carefully and scraped his boot on the floor; "them things ought to -be kep' private." - -"Mad, of course, that's to say imbecile", repeated the rubicund man. - -"Horrid head he'd got," said the failure, and shivered histrionically. - -They continued to demonstrate their contempt for the infant by many -asseverations. The reaction grew. They were all bold now and all -wanted to speak. They spoke as the survivors from some common peril; -they were increasingly anxious to demonstrate that they had never -suffered intimidation and in their relief they were anxious to laugh -at the thing which had for a time subdued them. But they never named -it as a cause for fear. Their speech was merely innuendo. - -At the last, however, I caught an echo of the true feeling. - -It was the rubicund man, who, most daring during the crisis was now -bold enough to admit curiosity. - -"What's your opinion, sir?" he said to me. The train was running -into Wenderby; he was preparing to get out; and he leaned forward, -his fingers on the handle of the door. - -I was embarrassed. Why had I been singled out by the child? I had -taken no part in the recent interjectory conversation. Was this a -consequence of the notice that had been paid to me? - -"I?" I stammered and then reverted to the rubicund man's original -phrase, "It--it was certainly a very remarkable child," I said. - -The rubicund man nodded and pursed his lips. "Very," he muttered as -he alighted, "Very remarkable. Well, good day to you." - -I returned to my book and was surprised to find that my index finger -was still marking the place at which I had been interrupted some -fifteen minutes before. My arm felt stiff and cramped. - -I read "... this absence of any tangible reason is the more striking -the deeper our freedom goes." - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -NOTES FOR A BIOGRAPHY OF GINGER STOTT - - -I - -Ginger Stott is a name that was once as well known as any in -England. Stott has been the subject of leading articles in every daily -paper; his life has been written by an able journalist who interviewed -Stott himself, during ten crowded minutes, and filled three hundred -pages with details, seventy per cent. of which were taken from the -journals, and the remainder supplied by a brilliant imagination. Ten -years ago Ginger Stott was on a pinnacle, there was a Stott vogue. You -found his name at the bottom of signed articles written by members of -the editorial staff; you bought Stott collars, although Stott himself -did not wear collars; there was a Stott waltz which is occasionally -hummed by clerks, and whistled by errand-boys to this day; there was a -periodical which lived for ten months, entitled Ginger Stott's Weekly; -in brief, during one summer there was a Stott apotheosis. - -But that was ten years ago, and the rising generation has almost -forgotten the once well-known name. One rarely sees him mentioned in -the morning paper now, and then it is but the briefest reference; some -such note as this "Pickering was at the top of his form, recalling -the finest achievements of Ginger Stott at his best," or "Flack is -a magnificent find for Kent: he promises to completely surpass the -historic feats of Ginger Stott." These journalistic superlatives -only irritate those who remember the performances referred to. We who -watched the man's career know that Pickering and Flack are but tyros -compared to Stott; we know that none of his successors has challenged -comparison with him. He was a meteor that blazed across the sky, -and if he ever has a true successor, such stars as Pickering and -Flack will shine pale and dim in comparison. - -It makes one feel suddenly old to recall that great matinée at -the Lyceum, given for Ginger Stott's benefit after he met with his -accident. In ten years so many great figures in that world have died -or fallen into obscurity. I can count on my fingers the number of -those who were then, and are still, in the forefront of popularity. Of -the others poor Captain Wallis, for instance, is dead--and no modern -writer, in my opinion, can equal the brilliant descriptiveness of -Wallis's articles in the Daily Post. Bobby Maisefield, again, Stott's -colleague, is a martyr to rheumatism, and keeps a shop in Ailesworth, -the scene of so many of his triumphs. What a list one might make, but -how uselessly. It is enough to note how many names have dropped out, -how many others are the names of those we now speak of as veterans. In -ten years! It certainly makes one feel old. - - - -II - -No apology is needed for telling again the story of Stott's -career. Certain details will still be familiar, it is true, the -historic details that can never be forgotten while cricket holds -place as our national game. But there are many facts of Stott's life -familiar to me, which have never been made public property. If I -must repeat that which is known, I can give the known a new setting; -perhaps a new value. - -He came of mixed races. His mother was pure Welsh, his father a -Yorkshire collier; but when Ginger was nine years old his father died, -and Mrs. Stott came to live in Ailesworth where she had immigrant -relations, and it was there that she set up the little paper-shop, -the business by which she maintained herself and her boy. That shop -is still in existence, and the name has not been altered. You may -find it in the little street that runs off the market place, going -down towards the Borstal Institution. - -There are many people alive in Ailesworth today who can remember -the sturdy, freckled, sandy-haired boy who used to go round with the -morning and evening papers; the boy who was to change the fortunes -of a county. - -Ginger was phenomenally thorough in all he undertook. It was one of -the secrets of his success. It was this thoroughness that kept him -engaged in his mother's little business until he was seventeen. Up to -that age he never found time for cricket--he certainly had remarkable -and very unusual qualities. - -It was sheer chance, apparently, that determined his choice of -a career. - -He had walked into Stoke-Underhill to deliver a parcel, and on his way -back his attention was arrested by the sight of a line of vehicles -drawn up to the boarded fencing that encloses the Ailesworth County -Ground. The occupants of these vehicles were standing up, struggling -to catch a sight of the match that was being played behind the screen -erected to shut out non-paying sightseers. Among the horses' feet, -squirming between the spokes of wheels, utterly regardless of all -injury, small boys glued their eyes to knot-holes in the fence, while -others climbed surreptitiously, and for the most part unobserved, -on to the backs of tradesmen's carts. All these individuals were in -a state of tremendous excitement, and even the policeman whose duty -it was to move them on, was so engrossed in watching the game that -he had disappeared inside the turnstile, and had given the outside -spectators full opportunity for eleemosynary enjoyment. - -That tarred fence has since been raised some six feet, and now -encloses a wider sweep of ground--alterations that may be classed -among the minor revolutions effected by the genius of that thick-set, -fair-haired youth of seventeen, who paused on that early September -afternoon to wonder what all the fuss was about. The Ailesworth County -Ground was not famous in those days; not then was accommodation needed -for thirty thousand spectators, drawn from every county in England -to witness the unparalleled. - -Ginger stopped. The interest of the spectacle pierced his absorption -in the business he had in hand. Such a thing was almost unprecedented. - -"What's up?" he asked of Puggy Phillips. - -Puggy Phillips--hazarding his life by standing on the -shiny, slightly curved top of his butcher's cart--made -no appropriate answer. "Yah--ah--AH!" he screamed in -ecstasy. "Oh! played! Pla-a-a-ayed!!" - -Ginger wasted no more breath, but laid hold of the little brass rail -that encircled Puggy's platform, and with a sudden hoist that lifted -the shafts and startled the pony, raised himself to the level of -a spectator. - -"'Ere!" shouted the swaying, tottering Puggy, "What the ... are yer -rup to?" - -The well-drilled pony, however, settled down again quietly to maintain -his end of the see-saw, and, finding himself still able to preserve -his equilibrium, Puggy instantly forgot the presence of the intruder. - -"What's up?" asked Ginger again. - -"Oh! Well 'it, WELL 'IT!" yelled Puggy. "Oh! Gow on, gow on agen! Run -it aht. Run it AH-T." - -Ginger gave it up, and turned his attention to the match. - -It was not any famous struggle that was being fought out on the old -Ailesworth Ground; it was only second-class cricket, the deciding match -of the Minor Counties championship. Hampdenshire and Oxfordshire, -old rivals, had been neck-and-neck all through the season, and, as -luck would have it, the engagement between them had been the last -fixture on the card. - -When Ginger rose to the level of spectator, the match was anybody's -game. Bobby Maisefield was batting. He was then a promising young -colt who had not earned a fixed place in the Eleven. Ginger knew -him socially, but they were not friends, they had no interests in -common. Bobby had made twenty-seven. He was partnered by old Trigson, -the bowler, (he has been dead these eight years,) whose characteristic -score of "Not out ... O," is sufficiently representative of his -methods. - -It was the fourth innings, and Hampdenshire with only one more -wicket to fall, still required nineteen runs to win. Trigson could -be relied upon to keep his wicket up, but not to score. The hopes -of Ailesworth centred in the ability of that almost untried colt -Bobby Maisefield--and he seemed likely to justify the trust reposed -in him. A beautiful late cut that eluded third man and hit the fence -with a resounding bang, nearly drove Puggy wild with delight. - -"Only fifteen more," he shouted. "Oh! Played; pla-a-a-yed!" - -But as the score crept up, the tensity grew. As each ball was -delivered, a chill, rigid silence held the onlookers in its grip. When -Trigson, with the field collected round him, almost to be covered -with a sheet, stonewalled the most tempting lob, the click of the -ball on his bat was an intrusion on the stillness. And always it -was followed by a deep breath of relief that sighed round the ring -like a faint wind through a plantation of larches. When Bobby scored, -the tumult broke out like a crash of thunder; but it subsided again, -echoless, to that intense silence so soon as the ball was "dead." - -Curiously, it was not Bobby who made the winning hit but Trigson. "One -to tie, two to win," breathed Puggy as the field changed over, -and it was Trigson who had to face the bowling. The suspense was -torture. Oxford had put on their fast bowler again, and Trigson, -intimidated, perhaps, did not play him with quite so straight a bat -as he had opposed to the lob-bowler. The ball hit Trigson's bat and -glanced through the slips. The field was very close to the wicket, -and the ball was travelling fast. No one seemed to make any attempt to -stop it. For a moment the significance of the thing was not realised; -for a moment only, then followed uproar, deafening, stupendous. - -Puggy was stamping fiercely on the top of his cart; the tears were -streaming down his face; he was screaming and yelling incoherent -words. He was representative of the crowd. Thus men shouted and stamped -and cried when news came of the relief of Kimberley, or when that -false report of victory was brought to Paris in the August of 1870.... - -The effect upon Ginger was a thing apart. He did not join in the -fierce acclamation; he did not wait to see the chairing of Bobby -and Trigson. The greatness of Stott's character, the fineness of his -genius is displayed in his attitude towards the dramatic spectacle -he had just witnessed. - -As he trudged home into Ailesworth, his thoughts found vent in a -muttered sentence which is peculiarly typical of the effect that had -been made upon him. - -"I believe I could have bowled that chap," he said. - - -III - -In writing a history of this kind, a certain licence must be -claimed. It will be understood that I am filling certain gaps in -the narrative with imagined detail. But the facts are true. My added -detail is only intended to give an appearance of life and reality to -my history. Let me, therefore, insist upon one vital point. I have not -been dependent on hearsay for one single fact in this story. Where -my experience does not depend upon personal experience, it has -been received from the principals themselves. Finally, it should be -remembered that when I have, imaginatively, put words into the mouths -of the persons of this story, they are never essential words which -affect the issue. The essential speeches are reported from first-hand -sources. For instance, Ginger Stott himself has told me on more than -one occasion that the words with which I closed the last section, were -the actual words spoken by him on the occasion in question. It was not -until six years after the great Oxfordshire match that I myself first -met the man, but what follows is literally true in all essentials. - -There was a long, narrow strip of yard, or alley, at the back of -Mrs. Stott's paper-shop, a yard that, unfortunately, no longer -exists. It has been partly built over, and another of England's -memorials has thus been destroyed by the vandals of modern commerce.... - -This yard was fifty-three feet long, measuring from Mrs. Stott's back -door to the door of the coal-shed, which marked the alley's extreme -limit. This measurement, an apparently negligible trifle, had an -important effect upon Stott's career. For it was in this yard that he -taught himself to bowl, and the shortness of the pitch precluded his -taking any run. From those long studious hours of practice he emerged -with a characteristic that was--and still remains--unique. Stott -never took more than two steps before delivering the ball; frequently -he bowled from a standing position, and batsmen have confessed that -of all Stott's puzzling mannerisms, this was the one to which they -never became accustomed. S. R. L. Maturin, the finest bat Australia -ever sent to this country, has told me that to this peculiarity of -delivery he attributed his failure ever to score freely against -Stott. It completely upset one's habit of play, he said: one had -no time to prepare for the flight of the ball; it came at one so -suddenly. Other bowlers have since attempted some imitation of this -method without success. They had not Stott's physical advantages. - -Nevertheless, the shortness of that alley threw Stott back for -two years. When he first emerged to try conclusions on the field, -he found his length on the longer pitch utterly unreliable, and the -effort necessary to throw the ball another six yards, at first upset -his slowly acquired methods. - -It was not until he was twenty years old that Ginger Stott played in -his first Colts' match. - -The three years that had intervened had not been prosperous years -for Hampdenshire. Their team was a one-man team. Bobby Maisefield -was developing into a fine bat (and other counties were throwing out -inducements to him, trying to persuade him to qualify for first-class -cricket), but he found no support, and Hampdenshire was never looked -upon as a coming county. The best of the minor counties in those -years were Staffordshire and Norfolk. - -In the Colts' match Stott's analysis ran: - - - overs maidens runs wickets - 11.3 7 16 7 - - -and reference to the score-sheet, which is still preserved among the -records of the County Club, shows that six of the seven wickets were -clean bowled. The Eleven had no second innings; the match was drawn, -owing to rain. Stott has told me that the Eleven had to bat on a -drying wicket, but after making all allowances, the performance was -certainly phenomenal. - -After this match Stott was, of course, played regularly. That -year Hampdenshire rose once more to their old position at the -head of the minor counties, and Maisefield, who had been seriously -considering Surrey's offer of a place in their Eleven after two years' -qualification by residence, decided to remain with the county which -had given him his first chance. - -During that season Stott did not record any performance so remarkable -as his feat in the Colts' match, but his record for the year was -eighty-seven wickets with an average of 9.31; and it is worthy of -notice that Yorkshire made overtures to him, as he was qualified by -birth to play for the northern county. - -I think there must have been a wonderful esprit de corps among the -members of that early Hampdenshire Eleven. There are other evidences -beside this refusal of its two most prominent members to join the ranks -of first-class cricket. Lord R----, the president of the H.C.C.C., -has told me that this spirit was quite as marked as in the earlier -case of Kent. He himself certainly did much to promote it, and his -generosity in making good the deficits of the balance sheet, had a -great influence on the acceleration of Hampdenshire's triumph. - -In his second year, though Hampdenshire were again champions of the -second-class counties, Stott had not such a fine average as in the -preceding season. Sixty-one wickets for eight hundred and sixty-eight -(average 14.23) seems to show a decline in his powers, but that was -a wonderful year for batsmen (Maisefield scored seven hundred and -forty-two runs, with an average of forty-two) and, moreover, that -was the year in which Stott was privately practising his new theory. - -It was in this year that three very promising recruits, all since -become famous, joined the Eleven, viz.: P. H. Evans, St. John -Townley, and Flower the fast bowler. With these five cricketers -Hampdenshire fully deserved their elevation into the list of -first-class counties. Curiously enough, they took the place of the -old champions, Gloucestershire, who, with Somerset, fell back into -the obscurity of the second-class that season. - - - -IV - -I must turn aside for a moment at this point in order to explain -the "new theory" of Stott's, to which I have referred, a theory -which became in practice one of the elements of his most astounding -successes. - -Ginger Stott was not a tall man. He stood only 5 ft. 5 1/4 in. in -his socks, but he was tremendously solid; he had what is known as a -"stocky" figure, broad and deep-chested. That was where his muscular -power lay, for his abnormally long arms were rather thin, though his -huge hands were powerful enough. - -Even without his "new theory," Stott would have been an exceptional -bowler. His thoroughness would have assured his success. He studied -his art diligently, and practised regularly in a barn through the -winter. His physique, too, was a magnificent instrument. That long, -muscular body was superbly steady on the short, thick legs. It gave -him a fulcrum, firm, apparently immovable. And those weirdly long, thin -arms could move with lightning rapidity. He always stood with his hands -behind him, and then--as often as not without even one preliminary -step--the long arm would flash round and the ball be delivered, -without giving the batsman any opportunity of watching his hand; you -could never tell which way he was going to break. It was astonishing, -too, the pace he could get without any run. Poor Wallis used to call -him the "human catapult"; Wallis was always trying to find new phrases. - -The theory first came to Stott when he was practising at the nets. It -was a windy morning, and he noticed that several times the balls he -bowled swerved in the air. When those swerving balls came they were -almost unplayable. - -Stott made no remark to any one--he was bowling to the groundsman--but -the ambition to bowl "swerves," as they were afterwards called, took -possession of him from that morning. It is true that he never mastered -the theory completely; on a perfectly calm day he could never depend -upon obtaining any swerve at all, but, within limits, he developed -his theory until he had any batsman practically at his mercy. - -He might have mastered the theory completely, had it not been for -his accident--we must remember that he had only three seasons of -first-class cricket--and, personally, I believe he would have achieved -that complete mastery. But I do not believe, as Stott did, that he -could have taught his method to another man. That belief became an -obsession with him, and will be dealt with later. - -My own reasons for doubting that Stott's "swerve" could have been -taught, is that it would have been necessary for the pupil to have had -Stott's peculiarities, not only of method, but of physique. He used -to spin the ball with a twist of his middle finger and thumb,--just -as you may see a billiard professional spin a billiard ball. To do -this in his manner, it is absolutely necessary not only to have a -very large and muscular hand, but to have very lithe and flexible -arm muscles, for the arm is moving rapidly while the twist is given, -and there must be no antagonistic muscular action. Further, I believe -that part of the secret was due to the fact that Stott bowled from a -standing position. Given these things, the rest is merely a question -of long and assiduous practice. The human mechanism is marvellously -adaptable. I have seen Stott throw a cricket ball half across the -room with sufficient spin on the ball to make it shoot back to him -along the carpet. - -I have mentioned the wind as a factor in obtaining the swerve. It -was a head-wind that Stott required. I have seen him, for sport, -toss a cricket ball into the teeth of a gale, and make it describe the -trajectory of a badly sliced golf-ball. This is why the big pavilion at -Ailesworth is set at such a curious angle to the ground. It was built -in the winter following Hampdenshire's second season of first-class -cricket, and it was so placed that when the wickets were pitched in -a line with it, they might lie south-west and north-east, or in the -direction of the prevailing winds. - - -V - -The first time I ever saw Ginger Stott, was on the occasion of the -historic encounter with Surrey; Hampdenshire's second engagement in -first-class cricket. The match with Notts, played at Trent Bridge -a few days earlier, had not foreshadowed any startling results. The -truth of the matter is that Stott had been kept, deliberately, in the -background; and as matters turned out his services were only required -to finish off Notts' second innings. Stott was even then a marked man, -and the Hampdenshire captain did not wish to advertise his methods -too freely before the Surrey match. Neither Archie Findlater, who was -captaining the team that year, nor any other person, had the least -conception of how unnecessary such a reservation was to prove. In his -third year, when Stott had been studied by every English, Australian, -and South African batsman of any note, he was still as unplayable as -when he made his début in first-class cricket. - -I was reporting the Surrey match for two papers, and in company with -poor Wallis interviewed Stott before the first innings. - -His appearance made a great impression on me. I have, of course, -met him, and talked with him many times since then, but my most vivid -memory of him is the picture recorded in the inadequate professional -dressing-room of the old Ailesworth pavilion. - -I have turned up the account of my interview in an old press-cutting -book, and I do not know that I can do better than quote that part of -it which describes Stott's personal appearance. I wrote the account -on the off chance of being able to get it taken. It was one of my -lucky hits. After that match, finished in a single day, my interview -afforded copy that any paper would have paid heavily for, and gladly. - -Here is the description: - - - "Stott--he is known to every one in Ailesworth as 'Ginger' - Stott--is a short, thick-set young man, with abnormally long arms - that are tanned a rich red up to the elbow. The tan does not, - however, obliterate the golden freckles with which arm and face - are richly speckled. There is no need to speculate as to the raison - d'être of his nickname. The hair of his head, a close, short crop, - is a pale russet, and the hair on his hands and arms is a yellower - shade of the same colour. 'Ginger' is, indeed, a perfectly apt - description. He has a square chin and a thin-lipped, determined - mouth. His eyes are a clear, but rather light blue, his forehead - is good, broad, and high, and he has a well-proportioned head. One - might have put him down as an engineer, essentially intelligent, - purposeful, and reserved." - - -The description is journalistic, but I do not know that I could improve -upon the detail of it. I can see those queer, freckled, hairy arms -of his as I write--the combination of colours in them produced an -effect that was almost orange. It struck one as unusual.... - -Surrey had the choice of innings, and decided to bat, despite the -fact that the wicket was drying after rain, under the influence of -a steady south-west wind and occasional bursts of sunshine. Would -any captain in Stott's second year have dared to take first innings -under such conditions? The question is farcical now, but not a single -member of the Hampdenshire Eleven had the least conception that the -Surrey captain was deliberately throwing away his chances on that -eventful day. - -Wallis and I were sitting together in the reporters' box. There were -only four of us; two specials,--Wallis and myself,--a news-agency -reporter, and a local man. - -"Stott takes first over," remarked Wallis, sharpening his pencil and -arranging his watch and score-sheet--he was very meticulous in his -methods. "They've put him to bowl against the wind. He's medium right, -isn't he?" - -"Haven't the least idea," I said. "He volunteered no information; -Hampdenshire have been keeping him dark." - -Wallis sneered. "Think they've got a find, eh?" he said. "We'll wait -and see what he can do against first-class batting." - -We did not have to wait long. - -As usual, Thorpe and Harrison were first wicket for Surrey, and Thorpe -took the first ball. - -It bowled him. It made his wicket look as untidy as any wicket I -have ever seen. The off stump was out of the ground, and the other -two were markedly divergent. - -"Damn it, I wasn't ready for him," we heard Thorpe say in the -professionals' room. Thorpe always had some excuse, but on this -occasion it was justified. - -C. V. Punshon was the next comer, and he got his first ball through -the slips for four, but Wallis looked at me with a raised eyebrow. - -"Punshon didn't know a lot about that," he said, and then he added, -"I say, what a queer delivery the chap has. He stands and shoots 'em -out. It's uncanny. He's a kind of human catapult." He made a note of -the phrase on his pad. - -Punshon succeeded in hitting the next ball, also, but it simply ran -up his bat into the hands of short slip. - -"Well, that's a sitter, if you like," said Wallis. "What's the matter -with 'em?" - -I was beginning to grow enthusiastic. - -"Look here, Wallis," I said, "this chap's going to break records." - -Wallis was still doubtful. - -He was convinced before the innings was over. - -There must be many who remember the startling poster that heralded -the early editions of the evening papers: - - - SURREY - ALL OUT - FOR 13 RUNS. - - -For once sub-editors did not hesitate to give the score on the contents -bill. That was a proclamation which would sell. Inside, the headlines -were rich and varied. I have an old paper by me, yellow now, and -brittle, that may serve as a type for the rest. The headlines are -as follows:-- - - - SURREY AND HAMPDENSHIRE. - - --------------- - - EXTRAORDINARY BOWLING PERFORMANCE. - - --------------- - - DOUBLE HAT-TRICK. - - --------------- - - SURREY ALL OUT IN 35 MINUTES FOR 13 RUNS. - - --------------- - - STOTT TAKES 10 WICKETS FOR 5. - - -The "double hat-trick" was six consecutive wickets, the last six, -all clean bowled. - -"Good God!" Wallis said, when the last wicket fell, and he looked at -me with something like fear in his eyes. "This man will have to be -barred; it means the end of cricket." - -I need not detail the remainder of the match. Hampdenshire hit up -ninety-three--P. H. Evans was top scorer with twenty-seven--and then -got Surrey out a second time for forty-nine. - -I believe Stott did not bowl his best in the second innings. He was -quite clever enough to see that he must not overdo it. As Wallis had -said, if he were too effective he might have to be barred. As it was, -he took seven wickets for twenty-three. - - - -VI - -That was Stott's finest performance. On eight subsequent occasions -he took all ten wickets in a single innings, once he took nineteen -wickets in one match (Hampdenshire v. Somerset at Taunton), twice he -took five wickets with consecutive balls, and any number of times he -did the "hat-trick," but he never afterwards achieved so amazing a -performance as that of the celebrated Surrey match. - -I am still of opinion that Stott deliberately bowled carelessly in -the second innings of that match, but, after watching him on many -fields, and after a careful analysis of his methods--and character--I -am quite certain that his comparative failures in later matches were -not due to any purpose on Stott's part. - -Take, for instance, the match which Hampdenshire lost to Kent in -Stott's second season--their first loss as a first-class county; their -record up to that time was thirteen wins and six drawn games. It is -incredible to me that Stott should have deliberately allowed Kent to -make the necessary one hundred and eighty-seven runs required in the -fourth innings. He took five wickets for sixty-three; if he could -have done better, I am sure he would have made the effort. He would -not have sacrificed his county. I have spoken of the esprit de corps -which held the Hampdenshire Eleven together, and they were notably -proud of their unbeaten record. - -No; we must find another reason for Stott's comparative failures. I -believe that I am the only person who knows that reason, and I say that -Stott was the victim of an obsession. His "swerve" theory dominated -him, he was always experimenting with it, and when, as in the Kent -match I have cited, the game was played in a flat calm, his failure -to influence the trajectory of the ball in his own peculiar manner, -puzzled and upset him. He would strive to make the ball swerve, and -in the effort he lost his length and became playable. Moreover, when -Stott was hit he lost his temper, and then he was useless. Findlater -always took him off the moment he showed signs of temper. The usual -sign was a fast full pitch at the batsman's ribs. - -I have one more piece of evidence, the best possible, which upholds -this explanation of mine, but it must follow the account of Stott's -accident. - -That accident came during the high flood of Hampdenshire success. For -two years they had held undisputed place as champion county, a place -which could not be upset by the most ingenious methods of calculating -points. They had three times defeated Australia, and were playing -four men in the test matches. As a team they were capable of beating -any Eleven opposed to them. Not even the newspaper critics denied that. - -In this third year of Hampdenshire's triumph, Australia had sent -over the finest eleven that had ever represented the colony, but -they had lost the first two test matches, and they had lost to -Hampdenshire. Nevertheless, they won the rubber, and took back the -"ashes." No one has ever denied, I believe, that this was due to -Stott's accident. There is in this case no room for any one to argue -that the argument is based on the fallacy of post and propter. - -The accident appeared insignificant at the time. The match was against -Notts on the Trent Bridge ground. I was reporting for three papers; -Wallis was not there. - -Stott had been taken off. Notts were a poor lot that year and -I think Findlater did not wish to make their defeat appear too -ignominious. Flower was bowling; it was a fast, true wicket, and Stott, -who was a safe field, was at cover. - -G. L. Mallinson was batting and making good use of his opportunity; -he was, it will be remembered, a magnificent though erratic -hitter. Flower bowled him a short-pitched, fast ball, rather wide -of the off-stump. Many men might have left it alone, for the ball -was rising, and the slips were crowded, but Mallinson timed the ball -splendidly, and drove it with all his force. He could not keep it on -the ground, however, and Stott had a possible chance. He leaped for -it and just touched the ball with his right hand. The ball jumped -the ring at its first bound, and Mallinson never even attempted to -run. There was a big round of applause from the Trent Bridge crowd. - -I noticed that Stott had tied a handkerchief round his finger, but I -forgot the incident until I saw Findlater beckon to his best bowler, -a few overs later. Notts had made enough runs for decency; it was -time to get them out. - -I saw Stott walk up to Findlater and shake his head, and through my -glasses I saw him whip the handkerchief from his finger and display -his hand. Findlater frowned, said something and looked towards the -pavilion, but Stott shook his head. He evidently disagreed with -Findlater's proposal. Then Mallinson came up, and the great bulk of -his back hid the faces of the other two. The crowd was beginning to -grow excited at the interruption. Every one had guessed that something -was wrong. All round the ring men were standing up, trying to make -out what was going on. - -I drew my inferences from Mallinson's face, for when he turned round -and strolled back to his wicket, he was wearing a broad smile. Through -my field glasses I could see that he was licking his lower lip with -his tongue. His shoulders were humped and his whole expression one of -barely controlled glee. (I always see that picture framed in a circle; -a bioscopic presentation.) He could hardly refrain from dancing. Then -little Beale, who was Mallinson's partner, came up and spoke to him, -and I saw Mallinson hug himself with delight as he explained the -situation. - -When Stott unwillingly came into the pavilion, a low murmur ran round -the ring, like the buzz of a great crowd of disturbed blue flies. In -that murmur I could distinctly trace the signs of mixed feelings. No -doubt the crowd had come there to witness the performances of the -phenomenon--the abnormal of every kind has a wonderful attraction -for us--but, on the other hand, the majority wanted to see their -own county win. Moreover, Mallinson was giving them a taste of his -abnormal powers of hitting, and the batsman appeals to the spectacular, -more than the bowler. - -I ran down hurriedly to meet Stott. - -"Only a split finger, sir," he said carelessly, in answer to my -question; "but Mr. Findlater says I must see to it." - -I examined the finger, and it certainly did not seem to call for -surgical aid. Evidently it had been caught by the seam of the new -ball; there was a fairly clean cut about half an inch long on the -fleshy underside of the second joint of the middle finger. - -"Better have it seen to," I said. "We can't afford to lose you, -you know, Stott." - -Stott gave a laugh that was more nearly a snarl. "Ain't the first -time I've 'ad a cut finger," he said scornfully. - -He had the finger bound up when I saw him again, but it had been -done by an amateur. I learnt afterwards that no antiseptic had been -used. That was at lunch time, and Notts had made a hundred and -sixty-eight for one wicket; Mallinson was not out, a hundred and -three. I saw that the Notts Eleven were in magnificent spirits. - -But after lunch Stott came out and took the first over. I don't -know what had passed between him and Findlater, but the captain had -evidently been over-persuaded. - -We must not blame Findlater. The cut certainly appeared trifling, it -was not bad enough to prevent Stott from bowling, and Hampdenshire -seemed powerless on that wicket without him. It is very easy to -distribute blame after the event, but most people would have done -what Findlater did in those circumstances. - -The cut did not appear to inconvenience Stott in the least degree. He -bowled Mallinson with his second ball, and the innings was finished up -in another fifty-seven minutes for the addition of thirty-eight runs. - -Hampdenshire made two hundred and thirty-seven for three wickets before -the drawing of stumps, and that was the end of the match, for the -weather changed during the night and rain prevented any further play. - -I, of course, stayed on in Nottingham to await results. I saw Stott on -the next day, Friday, and asked him about his finger. He made light -of it, but that evening Findlater told me over the bridge-table that -he was not happy about it. He had seen the finger, and thought it -showed a tendency to inflammation. "I shall take him to Gregory in -the morning if it's not all right," he said. Gregory was a well-known -surgeon in Nottingham. - -Again one sees, now, that the visit to Gregory should not have been -postponed, but at the time one does not take extraordinary precautions -in such a case as this. A split finger is such an everyday thing, -and one is guided by the average of experience. After all, if one -were constantly to make preparation for the abnormal, ordinary life -could not go on.... - -I heard that Gregory pursed his lips over that finger when he had -learned the name of his famous patient. "You'll have to be very careful -of this, young man," was Findlater's report of Gregory's advice. It -was not sufficient. I often wonder now whether Gregory might not have -saved the finger. If he had performed some small operation at once, -cut away the poison, it seems to me that the tragedy might have been -averted. I am, I admit, a mere layman in these matters, but it seems -to me that something might have been done. - -I left Nottingham on Saturday after lunch--the weather was -hopeless--and I did not make use of the information I had for the -purposes of my paper. I was never a good journalist. But I went down -to Ailesworth on Monday morning, and found that Findlater and Stott -had already gone to Harley Street to see Graves, the King's surgeon. - -I followed them, and arrived at Graves's house while Stott was -in the consulting-room. I hocussed the butler and waited with the -patients. Among the papers, I came upon the famous caricature of Stott -in the current number of Punch--the "Stand-and-Deliver" caricature, -in which Stott is represented with an arm about ten feet long, and the -batsman is looking wildly over his shoulder to square leg, bewildered, -with no conception from what direction the ball is coming. Underneath -is written "Stott's New Theory--the Ricochet. Real Ginger." While I -was laughing over the cartoon, the butler came in and nodded to me. I -followed him out of the room and met Findlater and Stott in the hall. - -Findlater was in a state of profanity. I could not get a sensible -word out of him. He was in a white heat of pure rage. The butler, who -seemed as anxious as I to learn the verdict, was positively frightened. - -"Well, for God's sake tell me what Graves said," I protested. - -Findlater's answer is unprintable, and told me nothing. - -Stott, however, quite calm and self-possessed, volunteered the -information. "Finger's got to come off, sir," he said quietly. "Doctor -says if it ain't off to-day or to-morrer, he won't answer for my 'and." - -This was the news I had to give to England. It was a great coup from -the journalistic point of view, but I made up my three columns with -a heavy heart, and the congratulations of my editor only sickened -me. I had some luck, but I should never have become a good journalist. - -The operation was performed successfully that evening, and Stott's -career was closed. - - - -VII - -I have already referred to the obsession which dominated Stott after -his accident, and I must now deal with that overweening anxiety of -his to teach his method to another man. - -I did not see Stott again till August, and then I had a long talk -with him on the Ailesworth County Ground, as together we watched the -progress of Hampdenshire's defeat by Lancashire. - -"Oh! I can't learn him nothing," he broke out, as Flower was hit to -the four corners of the ground, "'alf vollies and long 'ops and then -a full pitch--'e's a disgrace." - -"They've knocked him off his length," I protested. "On wicket like -this...." - -Stott shook his head. "I've been trying to learn 'im," he said, "but -he can't never learn. 'E's got 'abits what you can't break 'im of." - -"I suppose it is difficult," I said vaguely. - -"Same with me," went on Stott, "I've been trying to learn myself -to bowl without my finger"--he held up his mutilated hand--"or -left-'anded; but I can't. If I'd started that way.... No! I'm always -feeling for that finger as is gone. A second-class bowler I might be -in time, not better nor that." - -"It's early days yet," I ventured, intending encouragement, but Stott -frowned and shook his head. - -"I'm not going to kid myself," he said, "I know. But I'm going to -find a youngster and learn 'im. On'y he must be young." - -"No 'abits, you know," he explained. - -The next time I met Stott was in November. I ran up against him, -literally, one Friday afternoon in Ailesworth. - -When he recognised me he asked me if I would care to walk out to -Stoke-Underhill with him. "I've took a cottage there," he explained, -"I'm to be married in a fortnight's time." - -His circumstances certainly warranted such a venture. The proceeds of -matinee and benefit, invested for him by the Committee of the County -Club, produced an income of nearly two pounds a week, and in addition -to this he had his salary as groundsman. I tendered my congratulations. - -"Oh! well, as to that, better wait a bit," said Stott. - -He walked with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground. He -had the air of a man brooding over some project. - -"It is a lottery, of course ..." I began, but he interrupted me. - -"Oh that!" he said, and kicked a stone into the ditch; "take my -chances of that. It's the kid I'm thinking on." - -"The kid?" I repeated, doubtful whether he spoke of his fiancée, -or whether his nuptials pointed an act of reparation. - -"What else 'ud I tie myself up for?" asked Stott. "I must 'ave a kid -of my own and learn 'im from his cradle. It's come to that." - -"Oh! I understand," I said; "teach him to bowl." - -"Ah!" replied Stott as an affirmative. "Learn 'im to bowl from his -cradle; before 'e's got 'abits. When I started I'd never bowled a -ball in my life, and by good luck I started right. But I can't find -another kid over seven years old in England as ain't never bowled a -ball o' some sort and started 'abits. I've tried...." - -"And you hope with your own boys...?" I said. - -"Not 'ope, it's a cert;" said Stott. "I'll see no boy of mine touches -a ball afore he's fourteen, and then 'e'll learn from me; and learn -right. From the first go off." He was silent for a few seconds, and -then he broke out in a kind of ecstasy. "My Gawd, 'e'll be a bowler -such as 'as never been, never in this world. He'll start where I left -orf. He'll...." Words failed him, he fell back on the expletive he -had used, repeating it with an awed fervour. "My Gawd!" - -I had never seen Stott in this mood before. It was a revelation to -me of the latent potentialities of the man, the remarkable depth and -quality of his ambitions.... - - - -VIII - -I intended to be present at Stott's wedding, but I was not in England -when it took place; indeed, for the next two years and a half I was -never in England for more than a few days at a time. I sent him a -wedding-present, an inkstand in the guise of a cricket ball, with -a pen-rack that was built of little silver wickets. They were still -advertised that Christmas as "Stott inkstands." - -Two years and a half of American life broke up many of my old habits -of thought. When I first returned to London I found that the cricket -news no longer held the same interest for me, and this may account -for the fact that I did not trouble for some time to look up my old -friend Stott. - -In July, however, affairs took me to Ailesworth, and the associations -of the place naturally led me to wonder how Stott's marriage -had turned out, and whether the much-desired son had been born to -him. When my business in Ailesworth was done, I decided to walk out -to Stoke-Underhill. - -The road passes the County Ground, and a match was in progress, -but I walked by without stopping. I was wool-gathering. I was not -thinking of the man I was going to see, or I should have turned in at -the County Ground, where he would inevitably have been found. Instead, -I was thinking of the abnormal child I had seen in the train that day; -uselessly speculating and wondering. - -When I reached Stoke-Underhill I found the cottage which Stott had -shown me. I had by then so far recovered my wits as to know that I -should not find Stott himself there, but from the look of the cottage I -judged that it was untenanted, so I made inquiries at the post-office. - -"No; he don't live here, now, sir," said the postmistress; "he lives -at Pym, now, sir, and rides into Ailesworth on his bike." She was -evidently about to furnish me with other particulars, but I did not -care to hear them. I was moody and distrait. I was wondering why I -should bother my head about so insignificant a person as this Stott. - -"You'll be sure to find Mr. Stott at the cricket ground," the -postmistress called after me. - -Another two months of English life induced a return to my old habits -of thought. I found myself reverting to old tastes and interests. The -reversion was a pleasant one. In the States I had been forced out of my -groove, compelled to work, to strive, to think desperately if I would -maintain any standing among my contemporaries. But when the perpetual -stimulus was removed, I soon fell back to the less strenuous methods -of my own country. I had time, once more, for the calm reflection that -is so unlike the urgent, forced, inventive thought of the American -journalist. I was braced by that thirty months' experience, perhaps -hardened a little, but by September my American life was fading into -the background; I had begun to take an interest in cricket again. - -With the revival of my old interests, revived also my curiosity as -to Ginger Stott, and one Sunday in late September I decided to go -down to Pym. - -It was a perfect day, and I thoroughly enjoyed my four-mile walk from -Great Hittenden Station. - -Pym is a tiny hamlet made up of three farms and a dozen scattered -cottages. Perched on one of the highest summits of the Hampden Hills -and lost in the thick cover of beech woods, without a post-office or a -shop, Pym is the most perfectly isolated village within a reasonable -distance of London. As I sauntered up the mile-long lane that climbs -the steep hill, and is the only connection between Pym and anything -approaching a decent road, I thought that this was the place to -which I should like to retire for a year, in order to write the book -I had so often contemplated, and never found time to begin. This, -I reflected, was a place of peace, of freedom from all distraction, -the place for calm, contemplative meditation. - -I met no one in the lane, and there was no sign of life when I reached -what I must call the village, though the word conveys a wrong idea, for -there is no street, merely a cottage here and there, dropped haphazard, -and situated without regard to its aspect. These cottages lie all on -one's left hand; to the right a stretch of grass soon merges into -bracken and bush, and then the beech woods enclose both, and surge -down into the valley and rise up again beyond, a great wave of green; -as I saw it then, not yet touched with the first flame of autumn. - -I inquired at the first cottage and received my direction to Stott's -dwelling. It lay up a little lane, the further of two cottages joined -together. - -The door stood open, and after a moment's hesitation and a light knock, -I peered in. - -Sitting in a rocking-chair was a woman with black, untidy eyebrows, -and on her knee, held with rigid attention, was the remarkable baby -I had seen in the train two months before. As I stood, doubtful and, -I will confess it, intimidated, suddenly cold and nervous, the child -opened his eyes and honoured me with a cold stare. Then he nodded, -a reflective, recognisable nod. - -"'E remembers seein' you in the train, sir," said the woman, "'e -never forgets any one. Did you want to see my 'usband? 'E's upstairs." - -So this was the boy who was designed by Stott to become the greatest -bowler the world had ever seen.... - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE DISILLUSIONMENT OF GINGER STOTT - - -I - -Stott maintained an obstinate silence as we walked together up to the -Common, a stretch of comparatively open ground on the plateau of the -hill. He walked with his hands in his pockets and his head down, as he -had walked out from Ailesworth with me nearly three years before, but -his mood was changed. I was conscious that he was gloomy, depressed, -perhaps a little unstrung. I was burning with curiosity. Now that I -was released from the thrall of the child's presence, I was eager to -hear all there was to tell of its history. - -Presently we sat down under an ash-tree, one of three that guarded -a shallow, muddy pond skimmed with weed. Stott accepted my offer of -a cigarette, but seemed disinclined to break the silence. - -I found nothing better to say than a repetition of the old -phrase. "That's a very remarkable baby of yours, Stott," I said. - -"Ah!" he replied, his usual substitute for "yes," and he picked up -a piece of dead wood and threw it into the little pond. - -"How old is he?" I asked. - -"Nearly two year." - -"Can he ..." I paused; my imagination was reconstructing the scene -of the railway carriage, and I felt a reflex of the hesitation shown -by the rubicund man when he had asked the same question. "Can he -... can he talk?" It seemed so absurd a question to ask, yet it was -essentially a natural question in the circumstances. - -"He can, but he won't." - -This was startling enough, and I pressed my enquiry. - -"How do you know? Are you sure he can?" - -"Ah!" Only that aggravating, monosyllabic assent. - -"Look here, Stott," I said, "don't you want to talk about the child?" - -He shrugged his shoulders and threw more wood into the pond with a -strained attentiveness as though he were peculiarly anxious to hit -some particular wafer of the vivid, floating weed. For a full five -minutes we maintained silence. I was trying to subdue my impatience -and my temper. I knew Stott well enough to know that if I displayed -signs of either, I should get no information from him. My self-control -was rewarded at last. - -"I've 'eard 'im speak," he said, "speak proper, too, not like a baby." - -He paused, and I grunted to show that I was listening, but as he -volunteered no further remark, I said: "What did you hear him say?" - -"I dunno," replied Stott, "somethin' about learnin' and talkin'. I -didn't get the rights of it, but the missus near fainted--she thinks -'e's Gawd A'mighty or suthing." - -"But why don't you make him speak?" I asked deliberately. - -"Make 'im!" said Stott, with a curl of his lip, "make 'im! You try -it on!" - -I knew I was acting a part, but I wanted to provoke more -information. "Well! Why not?" I said. - -"'Cos 'e'd look at you--that's why not," replied Stott, "and you -can't no more face 'im than a dog can face a man. I shan't stand it -much longer." - -"Curious," I said, "very curious." - -"Oh! he's a blarsted freak, that's what 'e is," said Stott, getting -to his feet and beginning to pace moodily up and down. - -I did not interrupt him. I was thinking of this man who had drawn -huge crowds from every part of England, who had been a national hero, -and who, now, was unable to face his own child. Presently Stott broke -out again. - -"To think of all the trouble I took when 'e was comin'," he said, -stopping in front of me. "There was nothin' the missus fancied as -I wouldn't get. We was livin' in Stoke then." He made a movement of -his head in the direction of Ailesworth. "Not as she was difficult," -he went on thoughtfully. "She used to say 'I mussent get 'abits, -George,' Caught that from me; I was always on about that--then. You -know, thinkin' of learnin' 'im bowlin'. Things was different then; -afore 'e came." He paused again, evidently thinking of his troubles. - -Sympathetically, I was wondering how far the child had separated -husband and wife. There was the making of a tragedy here, I thought; -but when Stott, after another period of pacing up and down, began to -speak again I found that his tragedy was of another kind. - -"Learn 'im bowling!" he said, and laughed a mirthless laugh. "My -Gawd! it 'ud take something. No fear; that little game's off. And -I could a' done it if he'd been a decent or'nery child, 'stead of a -blarsted freak. There won't never be another, neither. This one pretty -near killed the missus. Doctor said it'd be 'er last.... With an -'ead like that, whacher expect?" - -"Can he walk?" I asked. - -"Ah! Gets about easy enough for all 'is body and legs is so small. When -the missus tries to stop 'im--she's afraid 'e'll go over--'e just -looks at 'er and she 'as to let 'im 'ave 'is own way." - - - -II - -Later, I reverted to that speech of the child's, that intelligent, -illuminating speech that seemed to prove that there was indeed a -powerful, thoughtful mind behind those profoundly speculative eyes. - -"That time he spoke, Stott," I said, "was he alone?" - -"Ah!" assented Stott. "In the garden, practisin' walkin' all by -'imself." - -"Was that the only time?" - -"Only time I've 'eard 'im." - -"Was it lately?" - -"'Bout six weeks ago." - -"And he has never made a sound otherwise, cried, laughed?" - -"'Ardly. 'E gives a sort o' grunt sometimes, when e' wants -anything--and points." - -"He's very intelligent." - -"Worse than that, 'e's a freak, I tell you." - -With the repetition of this damning description, Stott fell back -into his moody pacing, and this time I failed to rouse him from his -gloom. "Oh! forget it," he broke out once, when I asked him another -question, and I saw that he was not likely to give me any more -information that day. - -We walked back together, and I said good-bye to him at the end of -the lane which led up to his cottage. - -"Not comin' up?" he asked, with a nod of his head towards his home. - -"Well! I have to catch that train ..." I prevaricated, looking at my -watch. I did not wish to see that child again; my distaste was even -stronger than my curiosity. - -Stott grinned. "We don't 'ave many visitors," he said. "Well, I'll -come a bit farther with you." - -He came to the bottom of the hill, and after he left me he took the -road that goes over the hill to Wenderby. It would be about seven -miles back to Pym by that road.... - - - -III - -I spent the next afternoon in the Reading Room of the British Museum. I -was searching for a precedent, and at last I found one in the story of -Christian Heinrich Heinecken, [1] who was born at Lübeck on February 6, -1721. There were marked points of difference between the development of -Heinecken and that of Stott's child. Heinecken was physically feeble; -at the age of three he was still being fed at the breast. The Stott -precocity appeared to be physically strong; his body looked small and -undeveloped, it is true, but this was partly an illusion produced -by the abnormal size of the head. Again Heinecken learned to speak -very early; at ten months old he was asking intelligent questions, at -eighteen months he was studying history, geography, Latin and anatomy; -whereas the Stott child had only once been heard to speak at the age -of two years, and had not, apparently, begun any study at all. - -From this comparison it might seem at first that the balance of -precocity lay in the Heinecken scale. I drew another inference. I -argued that the genius of the Stott child far outweighed the genius -of Christian Heinecken. - -Little Heinecken in his four years of life suffered the mental -experience--with certain necessary limitations--of a developed -brain. He gathered knowledge as an ordinary child gathers knowledge, -the only difference being that his rate of assimilation was as ten -to one. - -But little Stott had gathered no knowledge from books. He had been -born of ignorant parents, he was being brought up among uneducated -people. Yet he had wonderful intellectual gifts: surely he must -have one above all others--the gift of reason. His brain must be -constructive, logical; he must have the power of deduction. He must -even at an extraordinarily early age, say six months, have developed -some theory of life. He must be withholding his energy, deliberately; -declining to exhibit his powers, holding his marvellous faculties in -reserve. Here was surely a case of genius which, comparable in some -respects to the genius of Heinecken, yet far exceeded it. - -As I developed my theory, my eagerness grew. And then suddenly an -inspiration came to me. In my excitement I spoke aloud and smacked the -desk in front of me with my open hand. "Why, of course!" I said. "That -is the key." - -An old man in the next seat scowled fiercely. The attendants in the -central circular desk all looked up. Other readers turned round and -stared at me. I had violated the sacred laws of the Reading Room. I -saw one of the librarians make a sign to an attendant and point to me. - -I gathered up my books quickly and returned them at the central -desk. My self-consciousness had returned, and I was anxious to be -away from the observation of the many dilettante readers who found -my appearance more engrossing than the books with which they were -dallying on some pretext or another. - -Yet, curiously, when I reached the street, the theory which had come -to me in the Museum with the force and vividness of an illuminating -dream had lost some of its glamour. Nevertheless, I set it out as it -then shaped itself in my mind. - -The great restraining force in the evolution of man, so I thought, -has been the restriction imposed by habit. What we call instinct is -a hereditary habit. This is the first guiding principle in the life -of the human infant. Upon this instinct we immediately superimpose -the habits of reason, all the bodily and intellectual conventions -that have been handed down from generation to generation. We learn -everything we know as children by the hereditary, simian habit of -imitation. The child of intellectual, cultured parents, born into -savage surroundings, becomes the slave of this inherited habit--call -it tendency, if you will, the intention is the same. I elaborated -the theory by instance and introspection, and found no flaw in it.... - -And here, by some freak of nature, was a child born without these -habits. During the period of gestation, one thought had dominated the -minds of both parents--the desire to have a son born without habits. It -does not seriously affect the theory that the desire had a peculiar end -in view; the wish, the urgent, controlling, omnipotent will had been -there, and the result included far more than the specific intention. - -Already some of my distaste for the Stott child had vanished. It -was accountable, and therefore no longer fearful. The child -was supernormal, a cause of fear to the normal man, as all truly -supernormal things are to our primitive, animal instincts. This is -the fear of the wild thing; when we can explain and give reasons, -the horror vanishes. We are men again. - -I did not quite recover the glow of my first inspiration, but the -theory remained with me; I decided to make a study of the child, -to submit knowledge to his reason. I would stand between him and the -delimiting training of the pedagogue, I thought. - -Then I reached home, and my life was changed. - -This story is not of my own life, and I have no wish to enter into -the curious and saddening experiences which stood between me and the -child of Ginger Stott for nearly six years. In that time my thoughts -strayed now and again to that cottage in the little hamlet on those -wooded hills. Often I thought "When I have time I will go and see -that child again if he is alive." But as the years passed, the memory -of him grew dim, even the memory of his father was blurred over by a -thousand new impressions. So it chanced that for nearly six years I -heard no word of Stott and his supernormal infant, and then chance -again intervened. My long period of sorrow came to an end almost -as suddenly as it had begun, and by a coincidence I was once more -entangled in the strange web of the phenomenal. - -In this story of Victor Stott I have bridged these six years in the -pages that follow. In doing this I have been compelled to draw to a -certain extent on my imagination, but the main facts are true. They -have been gathered from first-hand authority only, from Henty Challis, -from Mrs. Stott, and from her husband; though none, I must confess, -has been checked by that soundest of all authorities, Victor Stott -himself, who might have given me every particular in accurate detail, -had it not been for those peculiarities of his which will be explained -fully in the proper place. - - - - - - - -PART II - -THE CHILDHOOD OF THE WONDER - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE MANNER OF HIS BIRTH - - -I - -Stoke-Underhill lies in the flat of the valley that separates -the Hampden from the Quainton Hills. The main road from London to -Ailesworth does not pass through Stoke, but from the highway you -can see the ascent of the bridge over the railway, down the vista of -the straight mile of side road; and, beyond, a glimpse of scattered -cottages. That is all, and as a matter of fact, no one who is not -keeping a sharp look-out would ever notice the village, for the eye -is drawn to admire the bluff of Deane Hill, the highest point of the -Hampdens, which lowers over the little hamlet of Stoke and gives it -a second name; and to the church tower of Chilborough Beacon, away -to the right, another landmark. - -The attraction which Stoke-Underhill held for Stott, lay not in its -seclusion or its picturesqueness but in its nearness to the County -Ground. Stott could ride the two flat miles which separated him from -the scene of his work in ten minutes, and Ailesworth station is only a -mile beyond. So when he found that there was a suitable cottage to let -in Stoke, he looked no farther for a home; he was completely satisfied. - -Stott's absorption in any matter that was occupying his mind, made -him exceedingly careless about the detail of his affairs. He took -the first cottage that offered when he looked for a home, he took -the first woman who offered when he looked for a wife. - -Stott was not an attractive man to women. He was short and plain, -and he had an appearance of being slightly deformed, a "monkeyish" -look, due to his build and his long arms. Still, he was famous, and -might, doubtless, have been accepted by a dozen comely young women for -that reason, even after his accident. But if Stott was unattractive -to women, women were even more unattractive to Stott. "No opinion -of women?" he used to say. "Ever seen a gel try to throw a cricket -ball? You 'ave? Well, ain't that enough to put you off women?" That -was Stott's intellectual standard; physically, he had never felt -drawn to women. - -Ellen Mary Jakes exhibited no superiority over her sisters in the -matter of throwing a cricket ball. She was a friend of Ginger's mother, -and she was a woman of forty-two, who had long since been relegated -to some remote shelf of the matrimonial exchange. But her physical -disadvantages were outbalanced by her mental qualities. Ellen Mary was -not a book-worm, she read nothing but the evening and Sunday papers, -but she had a reasoning and intelligent mind. - -She had often contemplated the state of matrimony, and had made more -than one tentative essay in that direction. She had walked out with -three or four sprigs of the Ailesworth bourgeoisie in her time, and -the shadow of middle-age had crept upon her before she realised that -however pliant her disposition, her lack of physical charm put her at -the mercy of the first bright-eyed rival. At thirty-five Ellen had -decided, with admirable philosophy, that marriage was not for her, -and had assumed, with apparent complacency, the outward evidences of -a dignified spinsterhood. She had discarded gay hats and ribbons, -imitation jewellery, unreliable cheap shoes, and chill diaphanous -stockings, and had found some solace for her singleness in more -comfortable and suitable apparel. - -When Ellen, a declared spinster of seven years' standing, was first -taken into the confidence of Ginger Stott's mother, the scheme -which she afterwards elaborated immediately presented itself to -her mind. This fact is a curious instance of Ellen Mary's mobility -of intellect, and the student of heredity may here find matter for -careful thought. [2] - -The confidence in question was Ginger's declared intention of becoming -the father of the world's greatest bowler. Mrs. Stott was a dark, -garrulous, rather deaf little woman, with a keen eye for the main -chance; she might have become a successful woman of business if she had -not been by nature both stingy and a cheat. When her son presented his -determination, her first thought was to find some woman who would not -dissipate her son's substance, and in her opinion--not expressed to -Ginger--the advertised purpose of the contemplated marriage evidenced -a wasteful disposition. - -Mrs. Stott did not think of Ellen Mary as a possible daughter-in-law, -but she did hold forth for an hour and three-quarters on the -contemptible qualities of the young maidens, first of Ailesworth, -and then with a wider swoop that was not justified by her limited -experience, of the girls of England, Scotland, and Ireland at large. - -It required the flexible reasoning powers of Ellen Mary to find a -solution of the problem. Any ordinary, average woman of forty-two, a -declared spinster of seven years' standing, who had lived all her life -in a provincial town, would have been mentally unable to realise the -possibilities of the situation. Such a representative of the decaying -sexual instinct would have needed the stimulus of courtship, at the -least of some hint of preference displayed by the suitor. Ruled by -the conventions which hold her sex in bondage, she would have deemed -it unwomanly to make advances by any means other than innuendo, the -subtle suggestions which are the instruments of her sex, but which -are often too delicate to pierce the understanding of the obtuse and -slow-witted male. - -Ellen Mary stood outside the ruck that determines the destinies of all -such typical representatives. She considered the idea presented to -her by Mrs. Stott with an open and mobile intelligence. She weighed -the character of Ginger, the possibilities of rejection, and the -influence of Mrs. Stott; and she gave no thought to the conventions, -nor to the criticisms of Ailesworth society. When she had decided -that such chances as she could calculate were in her favour, Ellen -made up her mind, walked out to the County Ground one windy October -forenoon, and discovered Ginger experimenting with grass seed in a -shed off the pavilion. - -In this shed she offered herself, while Ginger worked on, attentive -but unresponsive. Perhaps she did not make an offer so much as state a -case. A masterly case, without question; for who can doubt that Stott, -however procrastinating and unwilling to make a definite overture, must -already have had some type of womanhood in his mind; some conception, -the seed of an ideal. - -I find a quality of romance in this courageous and unusual wooing of -Ellen Mary's; but more, I find evidences of the remarkable quality of -her intelligence. In other circumstances the name of Ellen Mary Jakes -might have stood for individual achievement, instead, she is remembered -as a common woman who happened to be the mother of Victor Stott. But -when the facts are examined, can we say that chance entered? If ever -the birth of a child was deliberately designed by both parents, it -was in the case under consideration. And what a strange setting to -the inception. - -Ellen Mary, a gaunt, tall, somewhat untidy woman, stood at the narrow -door of the little shed off the Ailesworth pavilion; with one hand, -shoulder-high, she steadied herself against the door frame, with -the other she continually pushed forward the rusty bonnet which had -been loosened during her walk by the equinoctial gale that now tore -at the door of the shed, and necessitated the employment of a wary -foot to keep the door from slamming. With all these distractions she -still made good her case, though she had to raise her voice above the -multitudinous sounds of the wind, and though she had to address the -unresponsive shoulders of a man who bent over shallow trays of earth -set on a trestle table under the small and dirty window. It is heroic, -but she had her reward in full measure. Presently her voice ceased, -and she waited in silence for the answer that should decide her -destiny. There was an interval broken only by the tireless passion -of the wind, and then Ginger Stott, the best-known man in England, -looked up and stared through the incrusted pane of glass before him -at the dim vision of grass and swaying hedge. Unconsciously his hands -strayed to his pockets, and then he said in a low, thoughtful voice: -"Well! I dunno why not." - - - -II - -Dr. O'Connell's face was white and drawn, and the redness of his -eyelids more pronounced than ever as he faced Stott in the pale October -dawn. He clutched at his beard with a nervous, combing movement, -as he shook his head decidedly in answer to the question put to him. - -"If it's not dead, now, 'twill be in very few hours," he said. - -Stott was shaken by the feeble passion of a man who has spent many -weary hours of suspense. His anger thrilled out in a feeble stream -of hackneyed profanities. - -O'Connell looked down on him with contempt. At sunrise, after a -sleepless night, a man is a creature of unrealised emotions. - -"Damn it, control yourself, man!" growled O'Connell, himself -uncontrolled, "your wife'll pull through with care, though she'll -never have another child." O'Connell did not understand; he was an -Irishman, and no cricketer; he had been called in because he had a -reputation for his skill in obstetrics. - -Stott stared at him fiercely. The two men seemed as if about to -grapple desperately for life in the windy, grey twilight. - -O'Connell recovered his self-control first, and began again to claw -nervously at his beard. "Don't be a fool," he said, "it's only what -you could expect. Her first child, and her a woman of near fifty." He -returned to the upstairs room; Stott seized his cap and went out into -the chill world of sunrise. - -"She'll do, if there are no complications," said O'Connell -to the nurse, as he bent over the still, exhausted figure of -Mrs. Stott. "She's a wonderful woman to have delivered such a child -alive." - -The nurse shivered, and avoiding any glance at the huddle that lay -on an improvised sofa-bed, she said: "It can't live, can it?" - -O'Connell, still intent on his first patient, shook his head. "Never -cried after delivery," he muttered "--the worst sign." He was silent -for a moment and then he added: "But, to be sure, it's a freak -of some kind." His scientific curiosity led him to make a further -investigation. He left the bed and began to examine the huddle on -the sofa-couch. Victor Stott owed his life, in the first instance, -to this scientific curiosity of O'Connell's. - -The nurse, a capable, but sentimental woman, turned to the window -and looked out at the watery trickle of feeble sunlight that now -illumined the wilderness of Stott's garden. - -"Nurse!" The imperative call startled her; she turned nervously. - -"Yes, doctor?" she said, making no movement towards him. - -"Come here!" O'Connell was kneeling by the sofa. "There seems to be -complete paralysis of all the motor centres," he went on; "but the -child's not dead. We'll try artificial respiration." - -The nurse overcame her repugnance by a visible effort. "Is it ... is -it worth while?" she asked, regarding the flaccid, tumbled, wax-like -thing, with its bloated, white globe of a skull. Every muscle of it -was relaxed and limp, its eyes shut, its tiny jaw hanging. "Wouldn't -it be better to let it die...?" - -O'Connell did not seem to hear her. He waved an impatient hand for -her assistance. "Outside my experience," he muttered, "no heart-beat -discernible, no breath ... yet it is indubitably alive." He depressed -the soft, plastic ribs and gave the feeble heart a gentle squeeze. - -"It's beating," he ejaculated, after a pause, with an ear close to -the little chest, "but still no breath! Come!" - -The diminutive lungs were as readily open to suggestion as the wee -heart: a few movements of the twigs they called arms, and the breath -came. O'Connell closed the mouth and it remained closed, adjusted the -limbs, and they stayed in the positions in which they were placed. At -last he gently lifted the lids of the eyes. - -The nurse shivered and drew back. Even O'Connell was startled, for -the eyes that stared into his own seemed to be heavy with a brooding -intelligence.... - -Stott came back at ten o'clock, after a morose trudge through the -misty rain. He found the nurse in the sitting-room. - -"Doctor gone?" he asked. - -The nurse nodded. - -"Dead, I suppose?" Stott gave an upward twist of his head towards -the room above. - -The nurse shook her head. - -"Can't live though?" There was a note of faint hope in his voice. - -The nurse drew herself together and sighed deeply. "Yes! we believe -it'll live, Mr. Stott," she said. "But ... it's a very remarkable -baby." - -How that phrase always recurred! - - - -III - -There were no complications, but Mrs. Stott's recovery was not a -rapid one. It was considered advisable that she should not see the -child. She thought that they were lying to her, that the child was -dead and, so, resigned herself. But her husband saw it. - -He had never seen so young an infant before, and, just for one moment, -he believed that it was a normal child. - -"What an 'ead!" was his first ejaculation, and then he realised the -significance of that sign. Fear came into his eyes, and his mouth -fell open. "'Ere, I say, nurse, it's ... it's a wrong 'un, ain't -it?" he gasped. - -"I'm sure I can't tell you, Mr. Stott," broke out the nurse -hysterically. She had been feeding and tending that curious baby -for three hours, and she was on the verge of a break-down. There was -no wet-nurse to be had, but a woman from the village had been sent -for. She was expected every moment. - -"More like a tadpole than anything," mused the unhappy father. - -"Oh! Mr. Stott, for goodness' sake, don't," cried the nurse. "If you -only knew...." - -"Knew what?" questioned Stott, still staring at the motionless figure -of his son, who lay with closed eyes, apparently unconscious. - -"There's something--I don't know," began the nurse, and then after -a pause, during which she seemed to struggle for some means of -expression, she continued with a sigh of utter weariness, "You'll -know when it opens its eyes. Oh! Why doesn't that woman come, the -woman you sent for?" - -"She'll be 'ere directly," replied Stott. "What d'you mean about -there bein' something ... something what?" - -"Uncanny," said the nurse without conviction. "I do wish that woman -would come. I've been up the best part of the night, and now...." - -"Uncanny? As how?" persisted Stott. - -"Not normal," explained the nurse. "I can't tell you more than that." - -"But 'ow? What way?" - -He did not receive an answer then; for the long expected relief came -at last, a great hulk of a woman, who became voluble when she saw -the child she had come to nurse. - -"Oh! dear, oh! dear," the stream began. "How unforchnit, and 'er first, -too. It'll be a idjit, I'm afraid. Mrs. 'Arrison's third was the very -spit of it...." - -The stream ran on, but Stott heard no more. An idiot! He had fathered -an idiot! That was the end of his dreams and ambitions! He had had -an hour's sleep on the sitting-room sofa. He went out to his work at -the County Ground with a heart full of blasphemy. - -When he returned at four o'clock he met the stout woman on the -doorstep. She put up a hand to her rolling breast, closed her eyes -tightly, and gasped as though completely overcome by this trifling -rencounter. - -"'Ow is it?" questioned the obsessed Stott. - -"Oh dear! Oh dear!" panted the stout woman, "the leas' thing upsets -me this afternoon...." She wandered away into irrelevant fluency, but -Stott was autocratic; his insistent questions overcame the inertia -of even Mrs. Reade at last. The substance of her information, freed -from extraneous matter, was as follows: - -"Oh! 'ealthy? It'll live, I've no doubt, if that's what you mean; -but 'elpless...! There, 'elpless is no word.... Learn 'im to take the -bottle, learn 'im to close 'is 'ands, learn 'im to go to sleep, learn -'im everythink. I've never seen nothink like it, never in all my days, -and I've 'elped to bring a few into the world.... I can't begin to tell -you about it, Mr. Stott, and that's the solemn truth. When 'e first -looked at me, I near 'ad a faint. A old-fashioned, wise sort of look as -'e might 'a been a 'undred. 'Lord 'elp us, nurse,' I says, 'Lord help -us.' I was that opset, I didn't rightly know what I was a-saying...." - -Stott pushed past the agitated Mrs. Reade, and went into the -sitting-room. He had had neither breakfast nor lunch; there was no -sign of any preparation for his tea, and the fireplace was grey with -the cinders of last night's fire. For some minutes he sat in deep -despondency, a hero faced with the uncompromising detail of domestic -neglect. Then he rose and called to the nurse. - -She appeared at the head of the steep, narrow staircase. "Sh!" she -warned, with a finger to her lips. - -"I'm goin' out again," said Stott in a slightly modulated voice. - -"Mrs. Reade's coming back presently," replied the nurse, and looked -over her shoulder. - -"Want me to wait?" asked Stott. - -The nurse came down a few steps. "It's only in case any one was -wanted," she began, "I've got two of 'em on my hands, you see. They're -both doing well as far as that goes. Only...." She broke off and -drifted into small talk. Ever and again she stopped and listened -intently, and looked back towards the half-open door of the upstairs -room. - -Stott fidgeted, and then, as the flow of conversation gave no sign -of running dry, he damned it abruptly. "Look 'ere, miss," he said, -"I've 'ad nothing to eat since last night." - -"Oh! dear!" ejaculated the nurse. "If--perhaps, if you'd just stay -here and listen, I could get you something." She seemed relieved to -have some excuse for coming down. - -While she bustled about the kitchen, Stott, half-way upstairs, -stayed and listened. The house was very silent, the only sound was -the hushed clatter made by the nurse in the kitchen. There was an -atmosphere of wariness about the place that affected even so callous a -person as Stott. He listened with strained attention, his eyes fixed -on the half-open door. He was not an imaginative man, but he was -beset with apprehension as to what lay behind that door. He looked -for something inhuman that might come crawling through the aperture, -something grotesque, preternaturally wise and threatening--something -horribly unnatural. - -The window of the upstairs room was evidently open, and now and -again the door creaked faintly. When that happened Stott gripped -the handrail, and grew damp and hot. He looked always at the shadows -under the door--if it crawled.... - -The nurse stood at the door of the sitting-room while Stott ate, -and presently Mrs. Reade came grunting and panting up the brick path. - -"I'm going out, now," said Stott resolutely, and he rose to his feet, -though his meal was barely finished. - -"You'll be back before Mrs. Reade goes?" asked the nurse, and passed -a hand over her tired eyes. "She'll be here till ten o'clock. I'm -going to lie down." - -"I'll be back by ten," Stott assured her as he went out. - -He did come back at ten o'clock, but he was stupidly drunk. - - - -IV - -The Stotts' cottage was no place to live in during the next few days, -but the nurse made one stipulation; Mr. Stott must come home to -sleep. He slept on an improvised bed in the sitting-room, and during -the night the nurse came down many times and listened to the sound -of his snores. She would put her ear against the door, and rest her -nerves with the thought of human companionship. Sometimes she opened -the door quietly and watched him as he slept. Except at night, when -he was rarely quite sober, Stott only visited his cottage once a day, -at lunch time; from seven in the morning till ten at night he remained -in Ailesworth save for this one call of inquiry. - -It was such a still house. Ellen Mary only spoke when speech was -absolutely required, and then her words were the fewest possible, and -were spoken in a whisper. The child made no sound of any kind. Even -Mrs. Reade tried to subdue her stertorous breathing, to move with -less ponderous quakings. The neighbours told her she looked thinner. - -Little wonder that during the long night vigil the nurse, moving -silently between the two upstairs rooms, should pause on the landing -and lean over the handrail; little wonder that she should give a long -sigh of relief when she heard the music of Stott's snore ascend from -the sitting-room. - -O'Connell called twice every day during the first week, not because -it was necessary for him to visit his two patients, but because the -infant fascinated him. He would wait for it to open its eyes, and -then would get up and leave the room hurriedly. Always he intended to -return the infant's stare, but when the opportunity was given to him, -he always rose and left the room--no matter how long and deliberately -he had braced himself to another course of action. - -It was on a Thursday that the baby was born, and it was on the -following Thursday that the circumstance of the household was reshaped. - -O'Connell came in the morning, full of resolution. After he had -pronounced Mrs. Stott well on the way to recovery, he paid the usual -visit to his younger patient. The child lay, relaxed, at full length, -in the little cot which had been provided for him. His eyes were, -as usual, closed, and he had all the appearance of the ordinary -hydrocephalic idiot. - -O'Connell sat down by the cot, listened to the child's breathing -and heart-beat, lifted and let fall again the lax wrist, turned -back the eyelid, revealing only the white of the upturned eyeball, -and then composed himself to await the natural waking of the child, -if it were asleep--always a matter of uncertainty. - -The nurse stood near him, silent, but she looked away from the cot. - -"Hydrocephalus!" murmured O'Connell, staring at his tiny patient, -"hydrocephalus, without a doubt. Eh? nurse!" - -"Yes, perhaps! I don't know, doctor." - -"Oh, not a doubt of it, not a doubt," repeated O'Connell, and then came -a flicker of the child's eyelids and a weak crumpling of the tiny hand. - -O'Connell caught his breath and clawed at his beard; "Hydrocephalus," -he muttered with set jaw and drawn eyebrows. - -The tiny hand straightened with a movement that suggested the -recovery of crushed grass, the mouth opened with a microscopic yawn, -and then the eyelids were slowly raised and a steady unwavering stare -of profoundest intelligence met O'Connell's gaze. - -He clenched his hands, shifted in his chair, and then rose abruptly -and turned to the window. - -"I--it won't be necessary for me to come again, nurse," he said curtly; -"they are both doing perfectly well." - -"Not come again?" There was dismay in the nurse's question. - -"No! No! It's unnecessary...." He broke off, and made for the door -without another glance in the direction of the cot. - -Nurse followed him downstairs. - -"If I'm wanted--you can easily send for me," said O'Connell, as -he went out. As he moved away he dragged at his beard and murmured -"Hydrocephalus, not a doubt of it." - -Following his departure, Mrs. Reade heard curious and most unwonted -laughter, and cautiously blundered downstairs to investigate. She -found the nurse in an advanced condition of hysteria, laughing, -gurgling, weeping, and intermittently crying in a shrill voice: -"Oh! Lord have mercy; Lord ha' mercy!" - -"Now, see you 'ere, my dear," said Mrs. Reade, when nurse had been -recovered to a red-eyed sanity, "it's time she was told. I've never -'eld with keepin' it from 'er, myself, and I've 'ad more experience -than many...." Mrs. Reade argued with abundant recourse to parenthesis. - -"Is she strog edough?" asked the nurse, still with tears in her voice; -"cad she bear the sight of hib?" She blew her nose vigorously, and then -continued with greater clearness: "I'm afraid it may turn her head." - -Out of her deep store of wisdom, Mrs. Reade produced a fact which -she elaborated and confirmed by apt illustration, adducing more -particularly the instance of Mrs. Harrison's third. "She's 'is -mother," was the essence of her argument, a fact of deep and strange -significance. - -The nurse yielded, and so the circumstance of Stott's household was -changed, and Stott himself was once more able to come home to meals. - -The nurse, wisely, left all diplomacy to the capable Mrs. Reade, -a woman specially fitted by nature for the breaking of news. She -delivered a long, a record-breaking circumlocution, and it seemed -that Ellen Mary, who lay with closed eyes, gathered no hint of its -import. But when the impressive harangue was slowly rustling to -collapse like an exhausted balloon, she opened her eyes and said -quite clearly, - -"What's wrong with 'im, then?" - -The question had the effect of reinflation, but at last the child -itself was brought, and it was open-eyed. - -The supreme ambition of all great women--and have not all women -the potentialities of greatness?--is to give birth to a god. That -ambition it is which is marred by the disappointing birth of a female -child--when the man-child is born, there is always hope, and slow -is the realisation of failure. That realisation never came to Ellen -Mary. She accepted her child with the fear that is adoration. When -she dropped her eyes before her god's searching glance, she did it -in reverence. She hid her faith from the world, but in her heart -she believed that she was blessed above all women. In secret, she -worshipped the inscrutable wonder that had used her as the instrument -of his incarnation. Perhaps she was right.... - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -HIS DEPARTURE FROM STOKE-UNDERHILL - - -I - -The village of Stoke was no whit intimidated by the news that -Mrs. Reade sowed abroad. The women exclaimed and chattered, the men -gaped and shook their heads, the children hung about the ruinous gate -that shut them out from the twenty-yard strip of garden which led up -to Stott's cottage. Curiosity was the dominant emotion. Any excuse -was good enough to make friendly overtures, but the babe remained -invisible to all save Mrs. Reade; and the village community kept open -ears while the lust of its eyes remained, perforce, unsatisfied. If -Stott's gate slammed in the wind, every door that commanded a view -of that gate was opened, and heads appeared, and bare arms--the -indications of women who nodded to each other, shook their heads, -pursed their lips and withdrew for the time to attend the pressure -of household duty. Later, even that gate slamming would reinvigorate -the gossip of backyards and front doorways. - -The first stranger to force an entry was the rector. He was an Oxford -man who, in his youth, had been an ardent disciple of the school -that attempts the reconciliation of Religion and Science. He had -been ambitious, but nature had predetermined his career by giving -him a head of the wrong shape. At Oxford his limitations had not -been clearly defined, and on the strength of a certain speech at the -Union, he crept into a London west-end curacy. There he attempted -to demonstrate the principle of reconciliation from the pulpit, but -his vicar and his bishop soon recognised that excellent as were his -intentions, he was doing better service to agnosticism than to his -own religion. In consequence he was vilely marooned on the savage -island of Stoke-Underhill, where he might preach as much science as -he would to the natives, for there was no fear of their comprehending -him. Fifteen years of Stoke had brought about a reaction. Nature -had made him a feeble fanatic, and he was now as ardent an opponent -of science as he had once been a defender. In his little mind he -believed that his early reading had enabled him to understand all -the weaknesses of the scientific position. His name was Percy Crashaw. - -Mrs. Stott could not deny her rector the right of entry, and he -insisted on seeing the infant, who was not yet baptised--a shameful -neglect, according to Crashaw, for the child was nearly six weeks -old. Nor had Mrs. Stott been "churched." Crashaw had good excuse for -pressing his call. - -Mrs. Stott refused to face the village. She knew that the place was -all agape, eager to stare at what they considered some "new kind of -idiot." Let them wait, was Ellen Mary's attitude. Her pride was a -later development. In those early weeks she feared criticism. - -But she granted Crashaw's request to see the child, and after the -interview (the term is precise) the rector gave way on the question of -a private ceremony, though he had indignantly opposed the scheme when -it was first mooted. It may be that he conceived an image of himself -with that child in his arms, the cynosure of a packed congregation.... - -Crashaw was one of the influences that hastened the Stotts' departure -from Stoke. He was so indiscreet. After the christening he would -talk. His attitude is quite comprehensible. He, the lawgiver of Stoke, -had been thwarted. He had to find apology for the private baptism -he had denied to many a sickly infant. Moreover, the Stotts had -broken another of his ordinances, for father and mother had stood as -god-parents to their own child, and Crashaw himself had been the second -godfather ordained as necessary by the rubric. He had given way on -these important points so weakly; he had to find excuse, and he talked -himself into a false belief with regard to the child he had baptised. - -He began with his wife. "I would allow more latitude to medical men," -he said. "In such a case as this child of the Stotts, for instance; -it becomes a burden on the community, I might say a danger, yes, a -positive danger. I am not sure whether I was right in administering -the holy sacrament of baptism...." - -"Oh! Percy! Surely ..." began Mrs. Crashaw. - -"One moment, my dear," protested the rector, "I have not fully -explained the circumstances of the case." And as he warmed to his -theme the image of Victor Stott grew to a fearful grotesqueness. It -loomed as a threat over the community and the church. Crashaw quoted, -inaccurately, statistics of the growth of lunacy, and then went off -at a tangent into the theory of possession by evil spirits. Since his -rejection of science, he had lapsed into certain forms of mediævalism, -and he now began to dally with a theory of a malign incarnation which -he elaborated until it became an article of his faith. - -To his poorer parishioners he spoke in vague terms, but he changed -their attitude; he filled them with overawed terror. They were -intensely curious still, but, now, when the gate was slammed, one saw -a face pressed to the window, the door remained fast; and the children -no longer clustered round that gate, but dared each other to run past -it; which they did, the girls with a scream, the boys with a jeering -"Yah--ah!" a boast of intrepidity. - -This change of temper was soon understood by the persons most -concerned. Stott grumbled and grew more morose. He had never been -intimate with the villagers, and now he avoided any intercourse -with them. His wife kept herself aloof, and her child sheltered from -profane observation. Naturally, this attitude of the Stotts fostered -suspicion. Even the hardiest sceptic in the taproom of the Challis Arms -began to shake his head, to concede that there "moight be soomething -in it." - -Yet the departure from Stoke might have been postponed indefinitely, -if it had not been for another intrusion. Both Stott and his wife -were ready to take up a new idea, but they were slow to conceive it. - - - -II - -The intruder was the local magnate, the landlord of Stoke, Wenderby, -Chilborough, a greater part of Ailesworth, two or three minor parishes, -and, incidentally, of Pym. - -This magnate, Henry Challis, was a man of some scholarship, whose -ambition had been smothered by the heaviness of his possessions. He -had a remarkably fine library at Challis Court, but he made little -use of it, for he spent the greater part of his time in travel. In -appearance he was rather an ungainly man; his great head and the bulk -of his big shoulders were something too heavy for his legs. - -Crashaw regarded his patron with mixed feelings. For Challis, the man -of property, the man of high connections, of intimate associations -with the world of science and letters, Crashaw had a feeling of awed -respect; but in private he inveighed against the wickedness of Challis, -the agnostic, the decadent. - -When Victor Stott was nearly three months old, the rector met his -patron one day on the road between Chilborough and Stoke. It was -three years since their last meeting, and Crashaw noticed that in -the interval Challis's pointed beard had become streaked with grey. - -"Hallo! How d'ye do, Crashaw?" was the squire's casual greeting. "How -is the Stoke microcosm?" - -Crashaw smiled subserviently; he was never quite at his ease in -Challis's presence. "Rari nantes in gurgite vasto," was the tag he -found in answer to the question put. However great his contempt for -Challis's way of life, in his presence Crashaw was often oppressed -with a feeling of inferiority, a feeling which he fought against but -could not subdue. The Latin tag was an attempt to win appreciation, -it represented a boast of equality. - -Challis correctly evaluated the rector's attitude; it was with -something of pity in his mind that he turned and walked beside him. - -There was but one item of news from Stoke, and it soon came to the -surface. Crashaw phrased his description of Victor Stott in terms other -than those he used in speaking to his wife or to his parishioners; -but the undercurrent of his virulent superstition did not escape -Challis, and the attitude of the villagers was made perfectly plain. - -"Hm!" was Challis's comment, when the flow of words ceased, "nigroque -simillima cygno, eh?" - -"Ah! of course, you sneer at our petty affairs," said Crashaw. - -"By no means. I should like to see this black swan of Stoke," replied -Challis. "Anything so exceptional interests me." - -"No doubt Mrs. Stott would be proud to exhibit the horror," said -Crashaw. He had a gleam of satisfaction in the thought that even the -great Henry Challis might be scared. That would, indeed, be a triumph. - -"If Mrs. Stott has no objection, of course," said Challis. "Shall we -go there, now?" - - - -III - -The visit of Henry Challis marked the first advent of Ellen Mary's -pride in the exhibition of her wonder. After the King and the Royal -Family--superhuman beings, infinitely remote--the great landlord of -the neighbourhood stood as a symbol of temporal power to the whole -district. The budding socialist of the taproom might sneer, and make -threat that the time was coming when he, the boaster, and Challis, -the landlord, would have equal rights; but in public the socialist -kow-towed to his master with a submission no less obsequious than -that of the humblest conservative on the estate. - -Mrs. Stott dropped a deep curtsy when, opening the door to the -autocratic summons of Crashaw's rat-a-tat, she saw the great man of -the district at her threshold. Challis raised his hat. Crashaw did -not imitate his example; he was all officiousness, he had the air of -a chief superintendent of police. - -"Oh! Mrs. Stott, we should like to come in for a few -minutes. Mr. Challis would like to see your child." - -"Damn the fool!" was Challis's thought, but he gave it less abrupt -expression. "That is, of course, if it is quite convenient to you, -Mrs. Stott. I can come at some other time...." - -"Please walk in, sir," replied Mrs. Stott, and curtsied again as she -stood aside. - -Superintendent Crashaw led the way.... - -Challis called again next day, by himself this time; and the day -after he dropped in at six o'clock while Mr. and Mrs. Stott were at -tea. He put them at their ease by some magic of his personality, and -insisted that they should continue their meal while he sat among the -collapsed springs of the horsehair armchair. He leaned forward and -swung his stick between his knees as it were a pendulum, and shot -out questions as to the Stotts' relations with the neighbours. And -always he had an attentive eye on the cradle that stood near the fire. - -"The neighbours are not highly intelligent, I suspect," said -Challis. "Even Mr. Crashaw, I fancy, does not appreciate -the--peculiarities of the situation." - -"He's worse than any," interpolated Stott. Ellen Mary sat in shadow; -there was a new light in her eyes, a foretaste of glory. - -"Ah! a little narrow, a little dogmatic, no doubt," replied Challis. "I -was going to propose that you might prefer to live at Pym." - -"Much farther for me," muttered Stott. He had mixed with nobility on -the cricket field, and was not overawed. - -"No doubt; but you have other interests to consider, interests of -far greater importance." Challis shifted his gaze from the cradle, -and looked Stott in the face. "I understand that Mrs. Stott does not -care to take her child out in the village. Isn't that so?" - -"Yes, sir," replied Ellen, to whom this question was addressed. "I -don't care to make an exhibition of 'im." - -"Quite right, quite right," went on Challis, "but it is very necessary -that the child should have air. I consider it very necessary, a -matter of the first importance that the child should have air," he -repeated. His gaze had shifted back to the cradle again. The child -lay with open eyes, staring up at the ceiling. - -"Now, there is an excellent cottage at Pym which I will have put in -repair for you at once," continued Challis. "It is one of two together, -but next door there are only old Metcalfe and his wife and daughter, -who will give you no trouble. And really, Mrs. Stott," he tore his -regard from the cradle for a moment, "there is no reason in the -world why you should fear the attention of your neighbours. Here, -in Stoke, I admit, they have been under a complete misapprehension, -but I fancy that there were special reasons for that. In Pym you will -have few neighbours, and you need not, I'm sure, fear their criticism." - -"They got one idiot there, already," Stott remarked somewhat sulkily. - -"You surely do not regard your own child as likely to develop into -an idiot, Stott!" Challis's tone was one of rebuke. - -Stott shifted in his chair and his eyes flickered uncertainly in the -direction of the cradle. "Dr. O'Connell says 'twill," he said. - -"When did he see the child last?" asked Challis. - -"Not since 'twere a week old, sir," replied Ellen. - -"In that case his authority goes for nothing, and, then, by the way, -I suppose the child has not been vaccinated?" - -"Not yet, sir." - -"Better have that done. Get Walters. I'll make myself responsible. I'll -get him to come." - -Before Challis left, it was decided that the Stotts should move to -Pym in February. - -When the great landowner had gone, Mrs. Stott looked wistfully at -her husband. - -"You ain't fair to the child, George," she said. "There's more than -you or any one sees, more than Mr. Challis, even." - -Stott stared moodily into the fire. - -"And it won't be so out of the way far for you, at Pym, with your -bike," she continued; "and we can't stop 'ere." - -"We might 'a took a place in Ailesworth," said Stott. - -"But it'll be so much 'ealthier for 'im up at Pym," protested -Ellen. "It'll be fine air up there for 'im." - -"Oh! 'im. Yes, all right for 'im," said Stott, and spat into the -fire. Then he took his cap and went out. He kept his eyes away from -the cradle. - - - -IV - -Harvey Walters lived in Wenderby, but his consulting-rooms were in -Harley Street, and he did not practise in his own neighbourhood; -nevertheless he vaccinated Victor Stott to oblige Challis. - -"Well?" asked Challis a few days later, "what do you make of him, -Walters? No clichés, now, and no professional jargon." - -"Candidly, I don't know," replied Walters, after a thoughtful interval. - -"How many times have you seen him?" - -"Four, altogether." - -"Good patient? Healthy flesh and that sort of thing?" - -"Splendid." - -"Did he look you in the eyes?" - -"Once, only once, the first time I visited the house." - -Challis nodded. "My own experience, exactly. And did you return that -look of his?" - -"Not willingly. It was, I confess, not altogether a pleasant -experience." - -"Ah!" - -Challis was silent for a few moments, and it was Walters who took up -the interrogatory. - -"Challis!" - -"Yes?" - -"Have you, now, some feeling of, shall I say, distaste for the -child? Do you feel that you have no wish to see it again?" - -"Is it that exactly?" parried Challis. - -"If not, what is it?" asked Walters. - -"In my own case," said Challis, "I can find an analogy only in my -attitude towards my 'head' at school. In his presence I was always -intimidated by my consciousness of his superior learning. I felt -unpleasantly ignorant, small, negligible. Curiously enough, I see -something of the same expression of feeling in the attitude of that -feeble Crashaw to myself. Well, one makes an attempt at self-assertion, -a kind of futile bragging; and one knows the futility of it--at the -time. But, afterwards, one finds excuse and seeks to belittle the -personality and attainment of the person one feared. At school we -did not love the 'head,' and, as schoolboys will, we were always -trying to run him down. 'Next time he rags me, I'll cheek him,' -was our usual boast--but we never did. Let's be honest, Walters, -are not you and I exhibiting much the same attitude towards this -extraordinary child? Didn't he produce the effect upon you that I've -described? Didn't you have a little of the 'fifth form' feeling,--a -boy under examination?" - -Walters smiled and screwed his mouth on one side. "The thing is so -absurd," he said. - -"That is what we used to say at school," replied Challis. - - - -V - -The Stotts' move to Pym was not marked by any incident. Mrs. Stott and -her boy were not unduly stared upon as they left Stoke--the children -were in school--and their entry into the new cottage was uneventful. - -They moved on a Thursday. On Sunday morning they had their first -visitor. - -He came mooning round the fence that guarded the Stotts' garden from -the little lane--it was hardly more than a footpath. He had a great -shapeless head that waggled heavily on his shoulders, his eyes were -lustreless, and his mouth hung open, frequently his tongue lagged -out. He made strange, inhuman noises. "A-ba-ba," was his nearest -approach to speech. - -"Now, George," called Mrs. Stott, "look at that. It's Mrs. 'Arrison's -boy what Mrs. Reade's spoke about. Now, is 'e anythink like ..." she -paused, "any think like 'im?" and she indicated the cradle in the -sitting-room. - -"What's 'e want, 'angin' round 'ere?" replied Stott, disregarding the -comparison. "'Ere, get off," he called, and he went into the garden -and picked up a stick. - -The idiot shambled away. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -HIS FATHER'S DESERTION - - -I - -The strongest of all habits is that of acquiescence. It is this habit -of submission which explains the admired patience and long-suffering -of the abjectly poor. The lower the individual falls, the more -unconquerable becomes the inertia of mind which interferes between -him and revolt against his condition. All the miseries of the flesh, -even starvation, seem preferable to the making of an effort great -enough to break this habit of submission. - -Ginger Stott was not poor. For a man in his station of life he was -unusually well provided for, but in him the habit of acquiescence -was strongly rooted. Before his son was a year old, Stott had grown -to loathe his home, to dread his return to it, yet it did not occur -to him until another year had passed that he could, if he would, -set up another establishment on his own account; that he could, for -instance, take a room in Ailesworth, and leave his wife and child in -the cottage. For two years he did not begin to think of this idea, -and then it was suddenly forced upon him. - -Ever since they had overheard those strangely intelligent -self-communings, the Stotts had been perfectly aware that their -wonderful child could talk if he would. Ellen Mary, pondering that -single expression, had read a world of meaning into her son's murmurs -of "learning." In her simple mind she understood that his deliberate -withholding of speech was a reserve against some strange manifestation. - -The manifestation, when it came, was as remarkable as it was -unexpected. - -The arm-chair in which Henry Challis had once sat was a valued -possession, dedicated by custom to the sole use of George Stott. Ever -since he had been married, Stott had enjoyed the full and undisputed -use of that chair. Except at his meals, he never sat in any other, -and he had formed a fixed habit of throwing himself into that chair -immediately on his return from his work at the County Ground. - -One evening in November, however, when his son was just over two years -old, Stott found his sacred chair occupied. He hesitated a moment, -and then went in to the kitchen to find his wife. - -"That child's in my chair," he said. - -Ellen was setting the tray for her husband's tea. "Yes ... I know," -she replied. "I--I did mention it, but 'e 'asn't moved." - -"Well, take 'im out," ordered Stott, but he dropped his voice. - -"Does it matter?" asked his wife. "Tea's just ready. Time that's done -'e'll be ready for 'is bath." - -"Why can't you move 'im?" persisted Stott gloomily. "'E knows it's -my chair." - -"There! kettle's boilin', come in and 'ave your tea," equivocated -the diplomatic Ellen. - -During the progress of the meal, the child still sat quietly in his -father's chair, his little hands resting on his knees, his eyes wide -open, their gaze abstracted, as usual, from all earthly concerns. - -But after tea Stott was heroic. He had reached the limit of his -endurance. One of his deep-seated habits was being broken, and with -it snapped his habit of acquiescence. He rose to his feet and faced -his son with determination, and Stott had a bull-dog quality about -him that was not easily defeated. - -"Look 'ere! Get out!" he said. "That's my chair!" - -The child very deliberately withdrew his attention from infinity and -regarded the dogged face and set jaw of his father. Stott returned -the stare for the fraction of a second, and then his eyes wavered -and dropped, but he maintained his resolution. - -"You got to get out," he said, "or I'll lift you." - -Ellen Mary gripped the edge of the table, but she made no attempt -to interfere. - -There was a tense, strained silence. Then Stott began to breathe -heavily. He lifted his long arms for a moment and raised his eyes, -he even made a tentative step towards the usurped chair. - -The child sat calm, motionless; his eyes were fixed upon his father's -face with a sublime, unalterable confidence. - -Stott's arms fell to his sides again, he shuffled his feet. One -more effort he made, a sudden, vicious jerk, as though he would do -the thing quickly and be finished with it; then he shivered, his -resolution broke, and he shambled evasively to the door. - -"God damn," he muttered. At the door he turned for an instant, swore -again in the same words, and went out into the night. - -To Stott, moodily pacing the Common, this thing was incomprehensible, -some horrible infraction of the law of normal life, something to be -condemned; altered, if possible. It was unprecedented, and it was, -therefore, wrong, unnatural, diabolic, a violation of the sound -principles which uphold human society. - -To Ellen Mary it was merely a miracle, the foreshadowing of greater -miracles to come. And to her was manifested, also, a minor miracle, -for when his father had gone, the child looked at his mother and gave -out his first recorded utterance. - -"'Oo is God?" he said. - -Ellen Mary tried to explain, but before she had stammered out many -words, her son abstracted his gaze, climbed down out of the chair, and -intimated with his usual grunt that he desired his bath and his bed. - - - -II - -The depths of Stott were stirred that night. He had often said that -"he wouldn't stand it much longer," but the words were a mere formula: -he had never even weighed their intention. As he paced the Common, -he muttered them again to the night, with new meaning; he saw new -possibilities, and saw that they were practicable. "I've 'ad enough," -was his new phrase, and he added another that evidenced his new -attitude. "Why not?" he said again and again. "And why not?" - -Stott's mind was not analytical. He did not examine his problem, -weigh this and that and draw a balanced deduction. He merely saw a -picture of peace and quiet, in a room at Ailesworth, in convenient -proximity to his work (he made an admirable groundsman and umpire, -his work absorbed him) and, perhaps, he conceived some dim ideal of -pleasant evenings spent in the companionship of those who thought -in the same terms as himself; whose speech was of form, averages, -the preparation of wickets, and all the detail of cricket; who shared -in his one interest. - -Stott's ambition to have a son and to teach him the mysteries of his -father's success had been dwindling for some time past. On this night -it was finally put aside. Stott's "I've 'ad enough" may be taken to -include that frustrated ideal. No more experiments for him, was the -pronouncement that summed up his decision. - -Still there were difficulties. Economically he was free, he could allow -his wife thirty shillings a week, more than enough for her support -and that of her child; but--what would she say, how would she take -his determination? A determination it was, not a proposal. And the -neighbours, what would they say? Stott anticipated a fuss. "She'll -say I've married 'er, and it's my duty to stay by 'er," was his -anticipation of his wife's attitude. He did not profess to understand -the ways of the sex, but some rumours of misunderstandings between -husbands and wives of his own class had filtered through his absorption -in cricket. - -He stumbled home with a mind prepared for dissension. - -He found his wife stitching by the fire. The door at the foot of the -stairs was closed. The room presented an aspect of cleanly, cheerful -comfort; but Stott entered with dread, not because he feared to meet -his wife, but because there was a terror sleeping in that house. - -His armchair was empty now, but he hesitated before he sat down in -it. He took off his cap and rubbed the seat and back of the chair -vigorously: a child of evil had polluted it, the chair might still -hold enchantment.... - -"I've 'ad enough," was his preface, and there was no need for any -further explanation. - -Ellen Mary let her hands fall into her lap, and stared dreamily at -the fire. - -"I'm sorry it's come to this, George," she said, "but it 'asn't been -my fault no more'n it's been your'n. Of course I've seen it a-comin', -and I knowed it 'ad to be, some time; but I don't think there need -be any 'ard words over it. I don't expec' you to understand 'im, no -more'n I do myself--it isn't in nature as you should, but all said -and done, there's no bones broke, and if we 'ave to part, there's no -reason as we shouldn't part peaceable." - -That speech said nearly everything. Afterwards it was only a question -of making arrangements, and in that there was no difficulty. - -Another man might have felt a little hurt, a little neglected by the -absence of any show of feeling on his wife's part, but Stott passed it -by. He was singularly free from all sentimentality; certain primitive, -human emotions seem to have played no part in his character. At this -moment he certainly had no thought that he was being carelessly -treated; he wanted to be free from the oppression of that horror -upstairs--so he figured it--and the way was made easy for him. - -He nodded approval, and made no sign of any feeling. - -"I shall go to-morrer," he said, and then, "I'll sleep down 'ere -to-night." He indicated the sofa upon which he had slept for so many -nights at Stoke, after his tragedy had been born to him. - -Ellen Mary had said nearly everything, but when she had made up a -bed for her husband in the sitting-room, she paused, candle in hand, -before she bade him good-night. - -"Don't wish 'im 'arm, George," she said. "'E's different from us, -and we don't understand 'im proper, but some day----" - -"I don't wish 'im no 'arm," replied Stott, and shuddered. "I don't -wish 'im no 'arm," he repeated, as he kicked off the boot he had -been unlacing. - -"You mayn't never see 'im again," added Ellen Mary. - -Stott stood upright. In his socks, he looked noticeably shorter -than his wife. "I suppose not," he said, and gave a deep sigh of -relief. "Well, thank Gawd for that, anyway." - -Ellen Mary drew her lips together. For some dim, unrealised reason, -she wished her husband to leave the cottage with a feeling of goodwill -towards the child, but she saw that her wish was little likely to -be fulfilled. - -"Well, good-night, George," she said, after a few seconds of silence, -and she added pathetically, as she turned at the foot of the stairs: -"Don't wish 'im no harm." - -"I won't," was all the assurance she received. - -When she had gone, and the door was closed behind her, Stott padded -silently to the window and looked out. A young moon was dipping into -a bank of cloud, and against the feeble brightness he could see an -uncertain outline of bare trees. He pulled the curtain across the -window, and turned back to the warm cheerfulness of the room. - -"Shan't never see 'im again," he murmured, "thank Gawd!" He -undressed quietly, blew out the lamp and got between the sheets of -his improvised bed. For some minutes he stared at the leaping shadows -on the ceiling. He was wondering why he had ever been afraid of the -child. "After all, 'e's only a blarsted freak," was the last thought -in his mind before he fell asleep. - -With that pronouncement Stott passes out of the history of the -Hampdenshire Wonder. He was in many ways an exceptional man, and -his name will always be associated with the splendid successes -of Hampdenshire cricket, both before and after the accident -that destroyed his career as a bowler. He was not spoiled by his -triumphs: those two years of celebrity never made Stott conceited, -and there are undoubtedly many traits in his character which call -for our admiration. He is still in his prime, an active agent in -finding talent for his county, and in developing that talent when -found. Hampdenshire has never come into the field with weak bowling, -and all the credit belongs to Ginger Stott. - -One sees that he was not able to appreciate the wonderful gifts of -his own son, but Stott was an ignorant man, and men of intellectual -attainment failed even as Stott failed in this respect. Ginger Stott -was a success in his own walk of life, and that fact should command -our admiration. It is not for us to judge whether his attainments -were more or less noble than the attainments of his son. - - - -III - -One morning, two days after Stott had left the cottage, Ellen Mary was -startled by the sudden entrance of her child into the sitting-room. He -toddled in hastily from the garden, and pointed with excitement -through the window. - -Ellen Mary was frightened; she had never seen her child other than -deliberate, calm, judicial, in all his movements. In a sudden spasm -of motherly love she bent to pick him up, to caress him. - -"No," said the Wonder, with something that approached disgust in his -tone and attitude. "No," he repeated. "What's 'e want 'angin' round -'ere? Send 'im off." He pointed again to the window. - -Ellen Mary looked out and saw a grinning, slobbering obscenity at -the gate. Stott had scared the idiot away, but in some curious, -inexplicable manner he had learned that his persecutor and enemy had -gone, and he had returned, and had made overtures to the child that -walked so sedately up and down the path of the little garden. - -Ellen Mary went out. "You be off," she said. - -"A-ba, a-ba-ba," bleated the idiot, and pointed at the house. - -"Be off, I tell you!" said Ellen Mary fiercely. But still the idiot -babbled and pointed. - -Ellen Mary stooped to pick up a stick. The idiot blenched; he -understood that movement well enough, though it was a stone he -anticipated, not a stick; with a foolish cry he dropped his arms and -slouched away down the lane. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -HIS DEBT TO HENRY CHALLIS - - -I - -Challis was out of England for more than three years after that one -brief intrusion of his into the affairs of Mr. and Mrs. Stott. During -the interval he was engaged upon those investigations, the results -of which are embodied in his monograph on the primitive peoples of -the Melanesian Archipelago. It may be remembered that he followed -Dr. W. H. R. Rivers' and Dr. C. G. Seligmann's inquiry into the -practice and theory of native customs. Challis developed his study -more particularly with reference to the earlier evolution of Totemism, -and he was able by his patient work among the Polynesians of Tikopia -and Ontong Java, and his comparisons of those sporadic tribes with the -Papuasians of Eastern New Guinea, to correct some of the inferences -with regard to the origins of exogamy made by Dr. J. G. Frazer in his -great work on that subject, published some years before. A summary -of Challis's argument may be found in vol. li. of the Journal of the -Royal Anthropological Institute. - -When he returned to England, Challis shut himself up at Chilborough. He -had engaged a young Cambridge man, Gregory Lewes, as his secretary and -librarian, and the two devoted all their time to planning, writing, -and preparing the monograph referred to. - -In such circumstances it is hardly remarkable that Challis should -have completely forgotten the existence of the curious child which had -intrigued his interest nearly four years earlier, and it was not until -he had been back at Challis Court for more than eight months, that -the incursion of Percy Crashaw revived his memory of the phenomenon. - -The library at Challis Court occupies a suite of three rooms. The -first and largest of the three is part of the original structure of -the house. Its primitive use had been that of a chapel, a one-storey -building jutting out from the west wing. This Challis had converted -into a very practicable library with a continuous gallery running -round at a height of seven feet from the floor, and in it he had -succeeded in arranging some 20,000 volumes. But as his store of -books grew--and at one period it had grown very rapidly--he had -been forced to build, and so he had added first one and then the -other of the two additional rooms which became necessary. Outside, -the wing had the appearance of an unduly elongated chapel, as he had -continued the original roof over his addition, and copied the style -of the old chapel architecture. The only external alteration he had -made had been the lowering of the sills of the windows. - -It was in the furthest of these three rooms that Challis and his -secretary worked, and it was from here that they saw the gloomy figure -of the Rev. Percy Crashaw coming up the drive. - -This was the third time he had called. His two former visits had been -unrewarded, but that morning a letter had come from him, couched -in careful phrases, the purport of which had been a request for an -interview on a "matter of some moment." - -Challis frowned, and rose from among an ordered litter of manuscripts. - -"I shall have to see this man," he said to Lewes, and strode hastily -out of the library. - -Crashaw was perfunctorily apologetic, and Challis, looking somewhat -out of place, smoking a heavy wooden pipe in the disused, bleak -drawing-room, waited, almost silent, until his visitor should come -to the point. - -" ... and the--er--matter of some moment, I mentioned," Crashaw mumbled -on, "is, I should say, not altogether irrelevant to the work you are -at present engaged upon." - -"Indeed!" commented Challis, with a lift of his thick eyebrows, -"no Polynesians come to settle in Stoke, I trust?" - -"On broad lines, relevant on broad, anthropological lines, I mean," -said Crashaw. - -Challis grunted. "Go on!" he said. - -"You may remember that curious--er--abnormal child of the -Stotts?" asked Crashaw. - -"Stotts? Wait a minute. Yes! Curious infant with an abnormally -intelligent expression and the head of a hydrocephalic?" - -Crashaw nodded. "It's development has upset me in a most unusual -way," he continued. "I must confess that I am entirely at a loss, -and I really believe that you are the only person who can give me -any intelligent assistance in the matter." - -"Very good of you," murmured Challis. - -"You see," said Crashaw, warming to his subject and interlacing his -fingers, "I happen, by the merest accident, I may say, to be the -child's godfather." - -"Ah! you have responsibilities!" commented Challis, with the first -glint of amusement in his eyes. - -"I have," said Crashaw, "undoubtedly I have." He leaned forward -with his hands still clasped together, and rested his forearms on -his thighs. As he talked he worked his hands up and down from the -wrists, by way of emphasis. "I am aware," he went on, "that on one -point I can expect little sympathy from you, but I make an appeal -to you, nevertheless, as a man of science and--and a magistrate; -for ... for assistance." - -He paused and looked up at Challis, received a nod of encouragement -and developed his grievance. - -"I want to have the child certified as an idiot, and sent to an -asylum." - -"On what grounds?" - -"He is undoubtedly lacking mentally," said Crashaw, "and his influence -is, or may be, malignant." - -"Explain," suggested Challis. - -For a few seconds Crashaw paused, intent on the pattern of the carpet, -and working his hands slowly. Challis saw that the man's knuckles -were white, that he was straining his hands together. - -"He has denied God," he said at last with great solemnity. - -Challis rose abruptly, and went over to the window; the next words -were spoken to his back. - -"I have, myself, heard this infant of four years use the most abhorrent -blasphemy." - -Challis had composed himself. "Oh! I say; that's bad," he said as he -turned towards the room again. - -Crashaw's head was still bowed. "And whatever may be your own -philosophic doubts," he said, "I think you will agree with me that in -such a case as this, something should be done. To me it is horrible, -most horrible." - -"Couldn't you give me any details?" asked Challis. - -"They are most repugnant to me," answered Crashaw. - -"Quite, quite! I understand. But if you want any assistance.... Or -do you expect me to investigate?" - -"I thought it my duty, as his godfather, to see to the child's -spiritual welfare," said Crashaw, ignoring the question put to him, -"although he is not, now, one of my parishioners. I first went to -Pym some few months ago, but the mother interposed between me and the -child. I was not permitted to see him. It was not until a few weeks -back that I met him--on the Common; alone. Of course, I recognised -him at once. He is quite unmistakable." - -"And then?" prompted Challis. - -"I spoke to him, and he replied with, with--an abstracted air, -without looking at me. He has not the appearance in any way of a -normal child. I made a few ordinary remarks to him, and then I asked -him if he knew his catechism. He replied that he did not know the word -'catechism.' I may mention that he speaks the dialect of the common -people, but he has a much larger vocabulary. His mother has taught -him to read, it appears." - -"He seems to have a curiously apt intelligence," interpolated Challis. - -Crashaw wrung his clasped hands and put the comment on one side. "I -then spoke to him of some of the broad principles of the Church's -teaching," he continued. "He listened quietly, without interruption, -and when I stopped, he prompted me with questions." - -"One minute!" said Challis. "Tell me; what sort of questions? That -is most important." - -"I do not remember precisely," returned Crashaw, "but one, I think, -was as to the sources of the Bible. I did not read anything beyond -simple and somewhat unusual curiosity into those questions, I may -say.... I talked to him for some considerable time--I dare say for -more than an hour...." - -"No signs of idiocy, apparently, during all this?" - -"I consider it less a case of idiocy than one of possession, maleficent -possession," replied Crashaw. He did not see his host's grim smile. - -"Well, and the blasphemy?" prompted Challis. - -"At the end of my instruction, the child, still looking away from -me, shook his head and said that what I had told him was not true, I -confess that I was staggered. Possibly I lost my temper, somewhat. I -may have grown rather warm in my speech. And at last...." Crashaw -clenched his hands and spoke in such a low voice that Challis could -hardly hear him. "At last he turned to me and said things which I -could not possibly repeat, which I pray that I may never hear again -from the mouth of any living being." - -"Profanities, obscenities, er--swear-words," suggested Challis. - -"Blasphemy, blasphemy," cried Crashaw. "Oh! I wonder that I did not -injure the child." - -Challis moved over to the window again. For more than a minute there -was silence in that big, neglected-looking room. Then Crashaw's -feelings began to find vent in words, in a long stream of insistent -asseverations, pitched on a rising note that swelled into a diapason -of indignation. He spoke of the position and power of his Church, of -its influence for good among the uneducated, agricultural population -among which he worked. He enlarged on the profound necessity for a -living religion among the poorer classes; and on the revolutionary -tendency towards socialism, which would be encouraged if the great -restraining power of a creed that enforced subservience to temporal -power was once shaken. And, at last, he brought his arguments to -a head by saying that the example of a child of four years old, -openly defying a minister of the Church, and repudiating the very -conception of the Deity, was an example which might produce a profound -effect upon the minds of a slow-thinking people; that such an example -might be the leaven which would leaven the whole lump; and that for -the welfare of the whole neighbourhood it was an instant necessity -that the child should be put under restraint, his tongue bridled, -and any opportunity to proclaim his blasphemous doctrines forcibly -denied to him. Long before he had concluded, Crashaw was on his feet, -pacing the room, declaiming, waving his arms. - -Challis stood, unanswering, by the window. He did not seem to hear; -he did not even shrug his shoulders. Not till Crashaw had brought -his argument to a culmination, and boomed into a dramatic silence, -did Challis turn and look at him. - -"But you cannot confine a child in an asylum on those grounds," -he said; "the law does not permit it." - -"The Church is above the law," replied Crashaw. - -"Not in these days," said Challis; "it is by law established!" - -Crashaw began to speak again, but Challis waved him down. "Quite, -quite. I see your point," he said, "but I must see this child -myself. Believe me, I will see what can be done. I will, at least, -try to prevent his spreading his opinions among the yokels." He smiled -grimly. "I quite agree with you that that is a consummation which is -not to be desired." - -"You will see him soon?" asked Crashaw. - -"To-day," returned Challis. - -"And you will let me see you again, afterwards?" - -"Certainly." - -Crashaw still hesitated for a moment. "I might, perhaps, come with -you," he ventured. - -"On no account," said Challis. - - - -II - -Gregory Lewes was astonished at the long absence of his chief; he -was more astonished when his chief returned. - -"I want you to come up with me to Pym, Lewes," said Challis; "one of -my tenants has been confounding the rector of Stoke. It is a matter -that must be attended to." - -Lewes was a fair-haired, hard-working young man, with a bent for -science in general that had not yet crystallised into any special -study. He had a curious sense of humour, that proved something of -an obstacle in the way of specialisation. He did not take Challis's -speech seriously. - -"Are you going as a magistrate?" he asked; "or is it a matter for -scientific investigation?" - -"Both," said Challis. "Come along!" - -"Are you serious, sir?" Lewes still doubted. - -"Intensely. I'll explain as we go," said Challis. - -It is not more than a mile and a half from Challis Court to Pym. The -nearest way is by a cart track through the beech woods, that winds -up the hill to the Common. In winter this track is almost impassable, -over boot-top in heavy mud; but the early spring had been fairly dry, -and Challis chose this route. - -As they walked, Challis went through the early history of Victor -Stott, so far as it was known to him. "I had forgotten the child," -he said; "I thought it would die. You see, it is by way of being -an extraordinary freak of nature. It has, or had, a curious look of -intelligence. You must remember that when I saw it, it was only a few -months old. But even then it conveyed in some inexplicable way a sense -of power. Every one felt it. There was Harvey Walters, for instance--he -vaccinated it; I made him confess that the child made him feel like -a school-boy. Only, you understand, it had not spoken then----" - -"What conveyed that sense of power?" asked Lewes. - -"The way it had of looking at you, staring you out of countenance, -sizing you up and rejecting you. It did that, I give you my word; -it did all that at a few months old, and without the power of -speech. Only, you see, I thought it was merely a freak of some kind, -some abnormality that disgusted one in an unanalysed way. And I -thought it would die. I certainly thought it would die. I am most -eager to see this new development." - -"I haven't heard. It confounded Crashaw, you say? And it cannot be -more than four or five years old now?" - -"Four; four and a half," returned Challis, and then the conversation -was interrupted by the necessity of skirting a tiny morass of wet -leaf-mould that lay in a hollow. - -"Confounded Crashaw? I should think so," Challis went on, when they -had found firm going again. "The good man would not soil his devoted -tongue by any condescension to oratio recta, but I gathered that the -child had made light of his divine authority." - -"Great Cæsar!" ejaculated Lewes; "but that is immense. What did -Crashaw do--shake him?" - -"No; he certainly did not lay hands on him at all. His own expression -was that he did not know how it was he did not do the child an -injury. That is one of the things that interest me enormously. That -power I spoke of must have been retained. Crashaw must have been -blue with anger; he could hardly repeat the story to me, he was so -agitated. It would have surprised me less if he had told me he had -murdered the child. That I could have understood, perfectly!" - -"It is, of course, quite incomprehensible to me, as yet," commented -Lewes. - -When they came out of the woods on to the stretch of common from which -you can see the great swelling undulations of the Hampden Hills, -Challis stopped. A spear of April sunshine had pierced the load of -cloud towards the west, and the bank of wood behind them gave shelter -from the cold wind that had blown fiercely all the afternoon. - -"It is a fine prospect," said Challis, with a sweep of his hand. "I -sometimes feel, Lewes, that we are over-intent on our own little narrow -interests. Here are you and I, busying ourselves in an attempt to throw -some little light--a very little it must be--on some petty problems -of the origin of our race. We are looking downwards, downwards always; -digging in old muck-heaps; raking up all kinds of unsavoury rubbish to -prove that we are born out of the dirt. And we have never a thought -for the future in all our work,--a future that may be glorious, who -knows? Here, perhaps in this village, insignificant from most points -of view, but set in a country that should teach us to raise our -eyes from the ground; here, in this tiny hamlet, is living a child -who may become a greater than Socrates or Shakespeare, a child who -may revolutionise our conceptions of time and space. There have been -great men in the past who have done that, Lewes; there is no reason -for us to doubt that still greater men may succeed them." - -"No; there is no reason for us to doubt that," said Lewes, and they -walked on in silence towards the Stotts' cottage. - - - -III - -Challis knocked and walked in. They found Ellen Mary and her son at -the tea-table. - -The mother rose to her feet and dropped a respectful curtsy. The boy -glanced once at Gregory Lewes and then continued his meal as if he -were unaware of any strange presence in the room. - -"I'm sorry. I am afraid we are interrupting you," Challis -apologised. "Pray sit down, Mrs. Stott, and go on with your tea." - -"Thank you, sir. I'd just finished, sir," said Ellen Mary, and remained -standing with an air of quiet deference. - -Challis took the celebrated armchair, and motioned Lewes to the -window-sill, the nearest available seat for him. "Please sit down, -Mrs. Stott," he said, and Ellen Mary sat, apologetically. - -The boy pushed his cup towards his mother, and pointed to the teapot; -he made a grunting sound to attract her attention. - -"You'll excuse me, sir," murmured Ellen Mary, and she refilled -the cup and passed it back to her son, who received it without any -acknowledgment. Challis and Lewes were observing the boy intently, -but he took not the least notice of their scrutiny. He discovered no -trace of self-consciousness; Henry Challis and Gregory Lewes appeared -to have no place in the world of his abstraction. - -The figure the child presented to his two observers was worthy of -careful scrutiny. - -At the age of four and a half years, the Wonder was bald, save for -a few straggling wisps of reddish hair above the ears and at the -base of the skull, and a weak, sparse down, of the same colour, on -the crown. The eyebrows, too, were not marked by any line of hair, -but the eyelashes were thick, though short, and several shades darker -than the hair on the skull. - -The face is not so easily described. The mouth and chin were relatively -small, overshadowed by that broad cliff of forehead, but they were -firm, the chin well moulded, the lips thin and compressed. The nose -was unusual when seen in profile. There was no sign of a bony bridge, -but it was markedly curved and jutted out at a curious angle from -the line of the face. The nostrils were wide and open. None of these -features produced any effect of childishness; but this effect was -partly achieved by the contours of the cheeks, and by the fact that -there was no indication of any lines on the face. - -The eyes nearly always wore their usual expression of abstraction. It -was very rarely that the Wonder allowed his intelligence to be -exhibited by that medium. When he did, the effect was strangely -disconcerting, blinding. One received an impression of extraordinary -concentration: it was as though for an instant the boy was able to give -one a glimpse of the wonderful force of his intellect. When he looked -one in the face with intention, and suddenly allowed one to realise, -as it were, all the dominating power of his brain, one shrank into -insignificance, one felt as an ignorant, intelligent man may feel when -confronted with some elaborate theorem of the higher mathematics. "Is -it possible that any one can really understand these things?" such a -man might think with awe, and in the same way one apprehended some -vast, inconceivable possibilities of mind-function when the Wonder -looked at one with, as I have said, intention. - -He was dressed in a little jacket-suit, and wore a linen collar; the -knickerbockers, loose and badly cut, fell a little below the knees. His -stockings were of worsted, his boots clumsy and thick-soled, though -relatively tiny. One had the impression always that his body was -fragile and small, but as a matter of fact the body and limbs were, -if anything, slightly better developed than those of the average -child of four and a half years. - -Challis had ample opportunity to make these observations at various -periods. He began them as he sat in the Stotts' cottage. At first he -did not address the boy directly. - -"I hear your son has been having a religious controversy with -Mr. Crashaw," was his introduction to the object of his visit. - -"Indeed, sir!" Plainly this was not news to Mrs. Stott. - -"Your son told you?" suggested Challis. - -"Oh! no, sir, 'e never told me," replied Mrs. Stott, "'twas -Mr. Crashaw. 'E's been 'ere several times lately." - -Challis looked sharply at the boy, but he gave no sign that he heard -what was passing. - -"Yes; Mr. Crashaw seems rather upset about it." - -"I'm sorry, sir, but----" - -"Yes; speak plainly," prompted Challis. "I assure you, that you will -have no cause to regret any confidence you may make to me." - -"I can't see as it's any business of Mr. Crashaw's, sir, if you'll -forgive me for sayin' so." - -"He has been worrying you?" - -"'E 'as, sir, but 'e ... " she glanced at her son--she laid a stress -on the pronoun always when she spoke of him that differentiated its -significance--"'e 'asn't seen Mr. Crashaw again, sir." - -Challis turned to the boy. "You are not interested in Mr. Crashaw, -I suppose?" he asked. - -The boy took no notice of the question. - -Challis was piqued. If this extraordinary child really had an -intelligence, surely it must be possible to appeal to that intelligence -in some way. He made another effort, addressing Mrs. Stott. - -"I think we must forgive Mr. Crashaw, you know, Mrs. Stott. As I -understand it, your boy at the age of four years and a half has -defied--his cloth, if I may say so." He paused, and as he received -no answer, continued: "But I hope that matter may be easily arranged." - -"Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Stott. "It's very kind of you. I'm sure, -I'm greatly obliged to you, sir." - -"That's only one reason of my visit to you, however." Challis -hesitated. "I've been wondering whether I might not be able to help -you and your son in some other way. I understand that he has unusual -power of--of intelligence." - -"Indeed 'e 'as, sir," responded Mrs. Stott. - -"And he can read, can't he?" - -"I've learned 'im what I could, sir: it isn't much." - -"Well, perhaps I could lend him a few books." - -Challis made a significant pause, and again he looked at the boy; -but there was no response, so he continued: "Tell me what he has read." - -"We've no books, sir, and we never 'ardly see a paper now. All we -'ave in the 'ouse is a Bible and two copies of Lillywhite's cricket -annual as my 'usband left be'ind." - -Challis smiled. "Has he read those?" he asked. - -"The Bible 'e 'as, I believe," replied Mrs. Stott. - -It was a conversation curious in its impersonality. Challis was -conscious of the anomaly that he was speaking in the boy's presence, -crediting him with a remarkable intelligence, and yet addressing a -frankly ignorant woman as though the boy was not in the room. Yet how -could he break that deliberate silence? It seemed to him as though -there must, after all, be some mistake; yet how account for Crashaw's -story if the boy were indeed an idiot? - -With a slight show of temper he turned to the Wonder. - -"Do you want to read?" he asked. "I have between forty and fifty -thousand books in my library. I think it possible that you might find -one or two which would interest you." - -The Wonder lifted his hand as though to ask for silence. For a minute, -perhaps, no one spoke. All waited, expectant; Challis and Lewes with -intent eyes fixed on the detached expression of the child's face, -Ellen Mary with bent head. It was a strange, yet very logical question -that came at last: - -"What should I learn out of all them books?" asked the Wonder. He -did not look at Challis as he spoke. - - - -IV - -Challis drew a deep breath and looked at Lewes. - -"A difficult question, that, Lewes," he said. - -Lewes lifted his eyebrows and pulled at his fair moustache. "If you -take the question literally," he muttered. - -"You might learn--the essential part ... of all the knowledge that -has been ... discovered by mankind," said Challis. He phrased his -sentence carefully, as though he were afraid of being trapped. - -"Should I learn what I am?" asked the Wonder. - -Challis understood the question in its metaphysical acceptation. He -had the sense of a powerful but undirected intelligence working from -the simple premises of experience; of a cloistered mind that had -functioned profoundly; a mind unbound by the tradition of all the -speculations and discoveries of man, the essential conclusions of -which were contained in that library at Challis Court. - -"No!" said Challis, after a perceptible interval, "that you will -not learn from any books in my possession, but you will find grounds -for speculation." - -"Grounds for speculation?" questioned the Wonder. He repeated the -words quite clearly. - -"Material--matter from which you can--er--formulate theories of your -own," explained Challis. - -The Wonder shook his head. It was evident that Challis's sentence -conveyed little or no meaning to him. - -He got down from his chair and took up an old cricket cap of his -father's, a cap which his mother had let out by the addition of another -gore of cloth that did not match the original material. He pulled -this cap carefully over his bald head, and then made for the door. - -At the threshold the strange child paused, and without looking at -any one present said: "I'll coom to your library," and went out. - -Challis joined Lewes at the window, and they watched the boy make -his deliberate way along the garden path and up the lane towards the -fields beyond. - -"You let him go out by himself?" asked Challis. - -"He likes to be in the air, sir," replied Ellen Mary. - -"I suppose you have to let him go his own way?" - -"Oh! yes, sir." - -"I will send the governess cart up for him to-morrow morning," said -Challis, "at ten o'clock. That is, of course, if you have no objection -to his coming." - -"'E said 'e'd coom, sir," replied Ellen Mary. Her tone implied that -there was no appeal possible against her son's statement of his wishes. - - - -V - -"His methods do not lack terseness," remarked Lewes, when he and -Challis were out of earshot of the cottage. - -"His methods and manners are damnable," said Challis, "but----" - -"You were going to say?" prompted Lewes. - -"Well, what is your opinion?" - -"I am not convinced, as yet," said Lewes. - -"Oh, surely," expostulated Challis. - -"Not from objective, personal evidence. Let us put Crashaw out of -our minds for the moment." - -"Very well; go on, state your case." - -"He has, so far, made four remarks in our presence," said Lewes, -gesticulating with his walking stick. "Two of them can be neglected; -his repetition of your words, which he did not understand, and his -condescending promise to study your library." - -"Yes; I'm with you, so far." - -"Now, putting aside the preconception with which we entered the -cottage, was there really anything in the other two remarks? Were -they not the type of simple, unreasoning questions which one may often -hear from the mouth of a child of that age? 'What shall I learn from -your books?' Well, it is the natural question of the ignorant child, -who has no conception of the contents of books, no experience which -would furnish material for his imagination." - -"Well?" - -"The second remark is more explicable still. It is a remark we all -make in childhood, in some form or another. I remember quite well at -the age of six or seven asking my mother: 'Which is me, my soul or -my body?' I was brought up on the Church catechism. But you at once -accepted these questions--which, I maintain, were questions possible -in the mouth of a simple, ignorant child--in some deep, metaphysical -acceptation. Don't you think, sir, we should wait for further evidence -before we attribute any phenomenal intelligence to this child?" - -"Quite the right attitude to take, Lewes--the scientific attitude," -replied Challis. "Let's go by the lane," he added, as they reached -the entrance to the wood. - -For some few minutes they walked in silence; Challis with his head -down, his heavy shoulders humped. His hands were clasped behind -him, dragging his stick as it were a tail, which he occasionally -cocked. He walked with a little stumble now and again, his eyes on the -ground. Lewes strode with a sure foot, his head up, and he slashed -at the tangle of last year's growth on the bank whenever he passed -some tempting butt for the sword-play of his stick. - -"Do you think, then," said Challis at last, "that much of -the atmosphere--you must have marked the atmosphere--of the -child's personality, was a creation of our own minds, due to our -preconceptions?" - -"Yes, I think so," Lewes replied, a touch of defiance in his tone. - -"Isn't that what you want to believe?" asked Challis. - -Lewes hit at a flag of dead bracken and missed. "You mean...?" he -prevaricated. - -"I mean that that is a much stronger influence than any preconception, -my dear Lewes. I'm no pragmatist, as you know; but there can be no -doubt that with the majority of us the wish to believe a thing is -true constitutes the truth of that thing for us. And that is, in my -opinion, the wrong attitude for either scientist or philosopher. Now, -in the case we are discussing, I suppose, at bottom I should like -to agree with you. One does not like to feel that a child of four -and a half has greater intellectual powers than oneself. Candidly, -I do not like it at all." - -"Of course not! But I can't think that----" - -"You can if you try; you would at once if you wished to," returned -Challis, anticipating the completion of Lewes's sentence. - -"I'll admit that there are some remarkable facts in the case of -this child," said Lewes, "but I do not see why we should, as yet, -take the whole proposition for granted." - -"No! I am with you there," returned Challis. And no more was said -until they were nearly home. - -Just before they turned into the drive, however, Challis stopped. "Do -you know, Lewes," he said, "I am not sure that I am doing a wise -thing in bringing that child here!" - -Lewes did not understand. "No, sir? Why not?" he asked. - -"Why, think of the possibilities of that child, if he has all the -powers I credit him with," said Challis. "Think of his possibilities -for original thought if he is kept away from all the traditions -of this futile learning." He waved an arm in the direction of the -elongated chapel. - -"Oh! but surely," remonstrated Lewes, "that is a necessary -groundwork. Knowledge is built up step by step." - -"Is it? I wonder. I sometimes doubt," said Challis. "Yes, I sometimes -doubt whether we have ever learned anything at all that is worth -knowing. And, perhaps, this child, if he were kept away from -books.... However, the thing is done now, and in any case he would -never have been able to dodge the School attendance officer." - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -HIS FIRST VISIT TO CHALLIS COURT - - -I - -"Shall you be able to help me in collating your notes of the Tikopia -observations this morning, sir?" Lewes asked. He rose from the -breakfast-table and lit a cigarette. There was no ceremony between -Challis and his secretary. - -"You forget our engagement for ten o'clock," said Challis. - -"Need that distract us?" - -"It need not, but doesn't it seem to you that it may furnish us with -valuable material?" - -"Hardly pertinent, sir, is it?" - -"What line do you think of taking up, Lewes?" asked Challis with -apparent irrelevance. - -"With regard to this--this phenomenon?" - -"No, no. I was speaking of your own ambitions." Challis had sauntered -over to the window; he stood, with his back to Lewes, looking out at -the blue and white of the April sky. - -Lewes frowned. He did not understand the gist of the question. "I -suppose there is a year's work on this book before me yet," he said. - -"Quite, quite," replied Challis, watching a cloud shadow swarm up the -slope of Deane Hill. "Yes, certainly a year's work. I was thinking -of the future." - -"I have thought of laboratory work in connection with psychology," -said Lewes, still puzzled. - -"I thought I remembered your saying something of the kind," murmured -Challis absently. "We are going to have more rain. It will be a late -spring this year." - -"Had the question any bearing on our engagement of this morning?" Lewes -was a little anxious, uncertain whether this inquiry as to his -future had not some particular significance; a hint, perhaps, that -his services would not be required much longer. - -"Yes; I think it had," said Challis. "I saw the governess cart go up -the road a few minutes since." - -"I suppose the boy will be here in a quarter of an hour?" said Lewes -by way of keeping up the conversation. He was puzzled; he did not know -Challis in this mood. He did not conceive it possible that Challis -could be nervous about the arrival of so insignificant a person as -this Stott child. - -"It's all very ridiculous," broke out Challis suddenly; and he -turned away from the window, and joined Lewes by the fire. "Don't -you think so?" - -"I'm afraid I don't follow you, sir." - -Challis laughed. "I'm not surprised," he said; "I was a trifle -inconsecutive. But I wish you were more interested in this child, -Lewes. The thought of him engrosses me, and yet I don't want to meet -him. I should be relieved to hear that he wasn't coming. Surely you, -as a student of psychology ..." he broke off with a lift of his -heavy shoulders. - -"Oh! Yes! I am interested, certainly, as you say, as a student of -psychology. We ought to take some measurements. The configuration -of the skull is not abnormal otherwise than in its relation to the -development of the rest of his body, but ..." Lewes meandered off -into somewhat abstruse speculation with regard to the significance -of craniology. - -Challis nodded his head and murmured: "Quite, quite," occasionally. He -seemed glad that Lewes should continue to talk. - -The lecture was interrupted by the appearance of the governess cart. - -"By Jove, he has come," ejaculated Challis in the middle of one of -Lewes's periods. "You'll have to see me through this, my boy. I'm -damned if I know how to take the child." - -Lewes flushed, annoyed at the interruption of his lecture. He had -believed that he had been interesting. "Curse the kid," was the -thought in his mind as he followed Challis to the window. - - - -II - -Jessop, the groom deputed to fetch the Wonder from Pym, looked a -little uneasy, perhaps a little scared. When he drew up at the porch, -the child pointed to the door of the cart and indicated that it was to -be opened for him. He was evidently used to being waited upon. When -this command had been obeyed, he descended deliberately and then -pointed to the front door. - -"Open!" he said clearly, as Jessop hesitated. The Wonder knew nothing -of bells or ceremony. - -Jessop came down from the cart and rang. - -The butler opened the door. He was an old servant and accustomed to -his master's eccentricities, but he was not prepared for the vision -of that strange little figure, with a large head in a parti-coloured -cricket-cap, an apparition that immediately walked straight by him -into the hall, and pointed to the first door he came to. - -"Oh, dear! Well, to be sure," gasped Heathcote. "Why, whatever----" - -"Open!" commanded the Wonder, and Heathcote obeyed, weak-kneed. - -The door chanced to be the right one, the door of the breakfast-room, -and the Wonder walked in, still wearing his cap. - -Challis came forward to meet him with a conventional greeting. "I'm -glad you were able to come ..." he began, but the child took no notice; -he looked rapidly round the room, and not finding what he wanted, -signified his desire by a single word. - -"Books," he said, and looked at Challis. - -Heathcote stood at the door, hesitating between amazement and -disapproval. "I've never seen the like," was how he phrased his -astonishment later, in the servants' hall, "never in all my born -days. To see that melon-'eaded himp in a cricket-cap hordering the -master about. Well, there----" - -"Jessop says he fair got the creeps drivin' 'im over," said the -cook. "'E says the child's not right in 'is 'ead." - -Much embroidery followed in the servants' hall. - - - - - - - -INTERLUDE - - -This brief history of the Hampdenshire Wonder is marked by a -stereotyped division into three parts, an arbitrary arrangement -dependent on the experience of the writer. The true division becomes -manifest at this point. The life of Victor Stott was cut into two -distinct sections, between which there is no correlation. The first -part should tell the story of his mind during the life of experience, -the time occupied in observation of the phenomena of life presented to -him in fact, without any specific teaching on the theories of existence -and progress, or on the speculation as to ultimate destiny. The second -part should deal with his entry into the world of books; into that -account of a long series of collated experiments and partly verified -hypotheses we call science; into the imperfectly developed system -of inductive and deductive logic which determines mathematics and -philosophy; into the long, inaccurate and largely unverifiable account -of human blindness and error known as history; and into the realm of -idealism, symbol, and pitiful pride we find in the story of poetry, -letters, and religion. - -I will confess that I once contemplated the writing of such a -history. It was Challis who, in his courtly, gentle way, pointed out -to me that no man living had the intellectual capacity to undertake -so profound a work. - -For some three months before I had this conversation with Challis, -I had been wrapped in solitude, dreaming, speculating. I had been -uplifted in thought, I had come to believe myself inspired as a result -of my separation from the world of men, and of the deep introspection -and meditation in which I had been plunged. I had arrived at a point, -perhaps not far removed from madness, at which I thought myself -capable of setting out the true history of Victor Stott. - -Challis broke the spell. He cleared away the false glamour which was -blinding and intoxicating me, and brought me back to a condition of -open-eyed sanity. To Challis I owe a great debt. - -Yet at the moment I was sunk in depression. All the glory of my vision -had faded; the afterglow was quenched in the blackness of the night -that drew out of the east and fell from the zenith as a curtain of -utter darkness. - -Again Challis came to my rescue. He brought me a great sheaf of notes. - -"Look here," he said, "if you can't write a true history of that -strange child, I see no reason why you should not write his story -as it is known to you, as it impinges on your own life. After all, -you, in many ways, know more of him than any one. You came nearest -to receiving his confidence." - -"But only during the last few months," I said. - -"Does that matter?" said Challis with an upheaval of his -shoulders--"shrug" is far too insignificant a word for that mountainous -humping. "Is any biography founded on better material than you have -at command?" - -He unfolded his bundle of notes. "See here," he said, "here is some -magnificent material for you--first-hand observations made at the -time. Can't you construct a story from that?" - -Even then I began to cast my story in a slightly biographical form. I -wrote half a dozen chapters, and read them to Challis. - -"Magnificent, my dear fellow," was his comment, "magnificent; but no -one will believe it." - -I had been carried away by my own prose, and with the natural vanity -of the author, I resented intensely his criticism. - -For some weeks I did not see Challis again, and I persisted in my -futile endeavour, but always as I wrote that killing suggestion -insinuated itself: "No one will believe you." At times I felt as a -man may feel who has spent many years in a lunatic asylum, and after -his release is for ever engaged in a struggle to allay the doubts of -a leering suspicion. - -I gave up the hopeless task at last, and sought out Challis again. - -"Write it as a story," he suggested, "and give up the attempt to -carry conviction." - -And in that spirit, adopting the form of a story, I did begin, and -in that form I hope to finish. - -But here as I reach the great division, the determining factor of -Victor Stott's life, I am constrained to pause and apologise. I have -become uncomfortably conscious of my own limitations, and the feeble, -ephemeral methods I am using. I am trifling with a wonderful story, -embroidering my facts with the tawdry detail of my own imagining. - -I saw--I see--no other way. - -This is, indeed, a preface, yet I prefer to put it in this place, -since it was at this time I wrote it. - - - -On the Common a faint green is coming again like a mist among the -ash-trees, while the oak is still dead and bare. Last year the oak -came first. - -They say we shall have a wet summer. - - - - - - - -PART II (continued) - -THE WONDER AMONG BOOKS - - -CHAPTER IX - -HIS PASSAGE THROUGH THE PRISON OF KNOWLEDGE - - -I - -Challis led the way to the library; Lewes, petulant and mutinous, -hung in the rear. - -The Wonder toddled forward, unabashed, to enter his new world. On -the threshold, however, he paused. His comprehensive stare took in a -sweeping picture of enclosing walls of books, and beyond was a vista -of further rooms, of more walls all lined from floor to ceiling with -records of human discovery, endeavour, doubt, and hope. - -The Wonder stayed and stared. Then he took two faltering steps into -the room and stopped again, and, finally, he looked up at Challis with -doubt and question; his gaze no longer quelling and authoritative, -but hesitating, compliant, perhaps a little childlike. - -"'Ave you read all these?" he asked. - -It was a curious picture. The tall figure of Challis, stooping, -as always, slightly forward; Challis, with his seaman's eyes and -scholar's head, his hands loosely clasped together behind his back, -paying such scrupulous attention to that grotesque representative -of a higher intellectuality, clothed in the dress of a villager, a -patched cricket-cap drawn down over his globular skull, his little -arms hanging loosely at his sides; who, nevertheless, even in this -new, strange aspect of unwonted humility bore on his face the promise -of some ultimate development which differentiated him from all other -humanity, as the face of humanity is differentiated from the face of -its prognathous ancestor. - -The scene is set in a world of books, and in the background lingers -the athletic figure and fair head of Lewes, the young Cambridge -undergraduate, the disciple of science, hardly yet across the threshold -which divides him from the knowledge of his own ignorance. - -"'Ave you read all these?" asked the Wonder. - -"A greater part of them--in effect," replied Challis. "There is -much repetition, you understand, and much record of experiment which -becomes, in a sense, worthless when the conclusions are either finally -accepted or rejected." - -The eyes of the Wonder shifted and their expression became abstracted; -he seemed to lose consciousness of the outer world; he wore the look -which you may see in the eyes of Jakob Schlesinger's portrait of the -mature Hegel, a look of profound introspection and analysis. - -There was an interval of silence, and then the Wonder unknowingly -gave expression to a quotation from Hamlet. "Words," he whispered -reflectively, and then again "words." - - - -II - -Challis understood him. "You have not yet learned the meaning of -words?" he asked. - -The brief period--the only one recorded--of amazement and submission -was over. It may be that he had doubted during those few minutes of -time whether he was well advised to enter into that world of books, -whether he would not by so doing stunt his own mental growth. It may be -that the decision of so momentous a question should have been postponed -for a year--two years; to a time when his mind should have had further -possibilities for unlettered expansion. However that may be, he decided -now and finally. He walked to the table and climbed up on a chair. - -"Books about words," he commanded, and pointed at Challis and Lewes. - -They brought him the latest production of the twentieth century in -many volumes, the work of a dozen eminent authorities on the etymology -of the English language, and they seated him on eight volumes of the -Encyclopædia Britannica (India paper edition) in order that he might -reach the level of the table. - -At first they tried to show him how his wonderful dictionary should be -used, but he pushed them on one side, neither then nor at any future -time would he consent to be taught--the process was too tedious for -him, his mind worked more fluently, rapidly, and comprehensively than -the mind of the most gifted teacher that could have been found for him. - -So Challis and Lewes stood on one side and watched him, and he was no -more embarrassed by their presence than if they had been in another -world, as, possibly, they were. - -He began with volume one, and he read the title page and the -introduction, the list of abbreviations, and all the preliminary -matter in due order. - -Challis noted that when the Wonder began to read, he read no faster -than the average educated man, but that he acquired facility at a -most astounding rate, and that when he had been reading for a few -days his eye swept down the column, as it were at a single glance. - -Challis and Lewes watched him for, perhaps, half an hour, and then, -seeing that their presence was of an entirely negligible value to -the Wonder, they left him and went into the farther room. - -"Well?" asked Challis, "what do you make of him?" - -"Is he reading or pretending to read?" parried Lewes. "Do you think -it possible that he could read so fast? Moreover, remember that he -has admitted that he knows few words of the English language, yet he -does not refer from volume to volume; he does not look up the meanings -of the many unknown words which must occur in every definition." - -"I know. I had noticed that." - -"Then you think he is humbugging--pretending to read?" - -"No; that solution seems to me altogether unlikely. He could not, -for one thing, simulate that look of attention. Remember, Lewes, -the child is not yet five years old." - -"What is your explanation, then?" - -"I am wondering whether the child has not a memory beside which the -memory of a Macaulay would appear insignificant." - -Lewes did not grasp Challis's intention. "Even so ..." he began. - -"And," continued Challis, "I am wondering whether, if that is the case, -he is, in effect, prepared to learn the whole dictionary by heart, -and, so to speak, collate its contents later, in his mind." - -"Oh! Sir!" Lewes smiled. The supposition was too outrageous to be -taken seriously. "Surely, you can't mean that." There was something -in Lewes's tone which carried a hint of contempt for so far-fetched -a hypothesis. - -Challis was pacing up and down the library, his hands clasped behind -him. "Yes, I mean it," he said, without looking up. "I put it forward -as a serious theory, worthy of full consideration." - -Lewes sneered. "Oh, surely not, sir," he said. - -Challis stopped and faced him. "Why not, Lewes; why not?" he -asked, with a kindly smile. "Think of the gap which separates your -intellectual powers from those of a Polynesian savage. Why, after -all, should it be impossible that this child's powers should equally -transcend our own? A freak, if you will, an abnormality, a curious -effect of nature's, like the giant puff-ball--but still----" - -"Oh! yes, sir, I grant you the thing is not impossible from a -theoretical point of view," argued Lewes, "but I think you are -theorising on altogether insufficient evidence. I am willing to admit -that such a freak is theoretically possible, but I have not yet found -the indications of such a power in the child." - -Challis resumed his pacing. "Quite, quite," he assented; "your method -is perfectly correct--perfectly correct. We must wait." - -At twelve o'clock Challis brought a glass of milk and some biscuits, -and set them beside the Wonder--he was at the letter "B." - -"Well, how are you getting on?" asked Challis. - -The Wonder took not the least notice of the question, but he stretched -out a little hand and took a biscuit and ate it, without looking up -from his reading. - -"I wish he'd answer questions," Challis remarked to Lewes, later. - -"I should prescribe a sound shaking," returned Lewes. - -Challis smiled. "Well, see here, Lewes," he said, "I'll take the -responsibility; you go and experiment, go and shake him." - -Lewes looked through the folding doors at the picture of the Wonder, -intent on his study of the great dictionary. "Since you've franked -me," he said, "I'll do it--but not now. I'll wait till he gives me -some occasion." - -"Good," replied Challis, "my offer holds ... and, by the way, I have -no doubt that an occasion will present itself. Doesn't it strike you -as likely, Lewes, that we shall see a good deal of the child here?" - -They stood for some minutes, watching the picture of that intent -student, framed in the written thoughts of his predecessors. - - - -III - -The Wonder ignored an invitation to lunch; he ignored, also, the tray -that was sent in to him. He read on steadily till a quarter to six, -by which time he was at the end of "L," and then he climbed down -from his Encyclopædia, and made for the door. Challis, working in -the farther room, saw him and came out to open the door. - -"Are you going now?" he asked. - -The child nodded. - -"I will order the cart for you, if you will wait ten minutes," -said Challis. - -The child shook his head. "It's very necessary to have air," he said. - -Something in the tone and pronunciation struck Challis, and awoke a -long dormant memory. The sentence spoken, suddenly conjured up a vision -of the Stotts' cottage at Stoke, of the Stotts at tea, of a cradle in -the shadow, and of himself, sitting in an uncomfortable armchair and -swinging his stick between his knees. When the child had gone--walking -deliberately, and evidently regarding the mile-and-a-half walk through -the twilight wood and over the deserted Common as a trivial incident -in the day's business--Challis set himself to analyse that curious -association. - -As he strolled back across the hall to the library, he tried to -reconstruct the scene of the cottage at Stoke, and to recall the -outline of the conversation he had had with the Stotts. - -"Lewes!" he said, when he reached the room in which his secretary was -working, "Lewes, this is curious," and he described the associations -called up by the child's speech. "The curious thing is," he continued, -"that I had gone to advise Mrs. Stott to take a cottage at Pym, because -the Stoke villagers were hostile, in some way, and she did not care -to take the child out in the street. It is more than probable that -I used just those words, 'It is very necessary to have air,' very -probable. Now, what about my memory theory? The child was only six -months old at that time." - -Lewes appeared unconvinced. "There is nothing very unusual in the -sentence," he said. - -"Forgive me," replied Challis, "I don't agree with you. It is not -phrased as a villager would phrase it, and, as I tell you, it was -not spoken with the local accent." - -"You may have spoken the sentence to-day," suggested Lewes. - -"I may, of course, though I don't remember saying anything of the sort, -but that would not account for the curiously vivid association which -was conjured up." - -Lewes pursed his lips. "No, no, no," he said. "But that is hardly -ground for argument, is it?" - -"I suppose not," returned Challis thoughtfully; "but when you take up -psychology, Lewes, I should much like you to specialise in a careful -inquiry into association in connection with memory. I feel certain that -if one can reproduce, as nearly as may be, any complex sensation one -has experienced, no matter how long ago, one will stimulate what I may -call an abnormal memory of all the associations connected with that -experience. Just now I saw the interior of that room in the Stotts' -cottage so clearly that I had an image of a dreadful oleograph of -Disraeli hanging on the wall. But, now, I cannot for the life of me -remember whether there was such an oleograph or not. I do not remember -noticing it at the time." - -"Yes, that's very interesting," replied Lewes. "There is certainly -a wide field for research in that direction." - -"You might throw much light on our mental processes," replied Challis. - -(It was as the outcome of this conversation that Gregory Lewes did, -two years afterwards, take up this line of study. The only result up -to the present time is his little brochure Reflexive Associations, -which has hardly added to our knowledge of the subject.) - - - -IV - -Challis's anticipation that he and Lewes would be greatly favoured -by the Wonder's company was fully realised. - -The child put in an appearance at half-past nine the next morning, -just as the governess cart was starting out to fetch him. When he was -admitted he went straight to the library, climbed on to the chair, -upon which the volumes of the Encyclopædia still remained, and -continued his reading where he had left off on the previous evening. - -He read steadily throughout the day without giving utterance to speech -of any kind. - -Challis and Lewes went out in the afternoon, and left the child deep -in study. They came in at five o'clock, and went to the library. The -Wonder, however, was not there. - -Challis rang the bell. - -"Has little Stott gone?" he asked when Heathcote came. - -"I 'aven't seen 'im, sir," said Heathcote. - -"Just find out if any one opened the door for him, will you?" said -Challis. "He couldn't possibly have opened that door for himself." - -"No one 'asn't let Master Stott hout, sir," Heathcote reported on -his return. - -"Are you sure?" - -"Quite sure, sir. I've made full hinquiries," said Heathcote with -dignity. - -"Well, we'd better find him," said Challis. - -"The window is open," suggested Lewes. - -"He would hardly ..." began Challis, walking over to the low sill -of the open window, but he broke off in his sentence and continued, -"By Jove, he did, though; look here!" - -It was, indeed, quite obvious that the Wonder had made his exit by -the window; the tiny prints of his feet were clearly marked in the -mould of the flowerbed; he had, moreover, disregarded all results of -early spring floriculture. - -"See how he has smashed those daffodils," said Lewes. "What an -infernally cheeky little brute he is!" - -"What interests me is the logic of the child," returned Challis. "I -would venture to guess that he wasted no time in trying to attract -attention. The door was closed, so he just got out of the window. I -rather admire the spirit; there is something Napoleonic about -him. Don't you think so?" - -Lewes shrugged his shoulders. Heathcote's expression was quite -non-committal. - -"You'd better send Jessop up to Pym, Heathcote," said Challis. "Let -him find out whether the child is safe at home." - -Jessop reported an hour afterwards that Master Stott had arrived home -quite safely, and Mrs. Stott was much obliged. - - - -V - -"What can I give that child to read to-day?" asked Challis at breakfast -next morning. - -"I should reverse the arrangement; let him sit on the Dictionary and -read the Encyclopædia." Lewes always approached the subject of the -Wonder with a certain supercilious contempt. - -"You are not convinced yet that he isn't humbugging?" - -"No! Frankly, I'm not." - -"Well, well, we must wait for more evidence, before we argue about -it," said Challis, but they sat on over the breakfast-table, waiting -for the child to put in an appearance, and their conversation hovered -over the topic of his intelligence. - -"Half-past ten?" Challis ejaculated at last, with surprise. "We are -getting into slack habits, Lewes." He rose and rang the bell. - -"Apparently the Stott infant has had enough of it," suggested -Lewes. "Perhaps he has exhausted the interest of dictionary -illustrations." - -"We shall see," replied Challis, and then to a deferentially appearing -Heathcote he said: "Has Master Stott come this morning?" - -"No, sir. Leastways, no one 'asn't let 'im in, sir." - -"It may be that he is mentally collating the results of the past -two days' reading," said Challis, as he and Lewes made their way to -the library. - -"Oh!" was all Lewes's reply, but it conveyed much of impatient contempt -for his employer's attitude. - -Challis only smiled. - -When they entered the library they found the Wonder hard at work, and -he had, of his own initiative, adopted the plan ironically suggested -by Lewes, for he had succeeded in transferring the Dictionary volumes -to the chair, and he was deep in volume one, of the eleventh edition -of the Encyclopædia Britannica. - -The library was never cleared up by any one except Challis or his -deputy, but an early housemaid had been sent to dust, and she had -left the casement of one of the lower lights of the window open. The -means of the Wonder's entrance was thus clearly in evidence. - -"It's Napoleonic," murmured Challis. - -"It's most infernal cheek," returned Lewes in a loud voice, "I -should not be at all surprised if that promised shaking were not -administered to-day." - -The Wonder took no notice. Challis says that on that morning his eyes -were travelling down the page at about the rate at which one could -count the lines. - -"He isn't reading," said Lewes. "No one could read as fast as that, -and most certainly not a child of four and a half." - -"If he would only answer questions...." hesitated Challis. - -"Oh! of course he won't do that," said Lewes. "He's clever enough -not to give himself away." - -The two men went over to the table and looked down over the child's -shoulder. He was in the middle of the article on algebra. - -Lewes made a gesture. "Now do you believe he's humbugging?" he asked -confidently, and made no effort to modulate his voice. - -Challis drew his eyebrows together. "My boy," he said, and laid his -hand lightly on Victor Stott's shoulder, "can you understand what -you are reading there?" - -But no answer was vouchsafed. Challis sighed. "Come along, Lewes," -he said; "we must waste no more time." - -Lewes wore a look of smug triumph as they went to the farther room, but -he was clever enough to refrain from expressing his triumph in speech. - - - -VI - -Challis gave directions that the window which the Wonder had found to -be his most convenient method of entry and exit should be kept open, -except at night; and a stool was placed under the sill inside the -room, and a low bench was fixed outside to facilitate the child's -goings and comings. Also, a little path was made across the flowerbed. - -The Wonder gave no trouble. He arrived at nine o'clock every morning, -Sunday included, and left at a quarter to six in the evening. On -wet days he was provided with a waterproof which had evidently been -made by his mother out of a larger garment. This he took off when he -entered the room and left on the stool under the window. - -He was given a glass of milk and a plate of bread-and-butter at twelve -o'clock; and except for this he demanded and received no attention. - -For three weeks he devoted himself exclusively to the study of the -Encyclopædia. - -Lewes was puzzled. - -Challis spoke little of the child during these three weeks, but -he often stood at the entrance to the farther rooms and watched -the Wonder's eyes travelling so rapidly yet so intently down the -page. That sight had a curious fascination for him; he returned to -his own work by an effort, and an hour afterwards he would be back -again at the door of the larger room. Sometimes Lewes would hear -him mutter: "If he would only answer a few questions...." There was -always one hope in Challis's mind. He hoped that some sort of climax -might be reached when the Encyclopædia was finished. The child must, -at least, ask then for another book. Even if he chose one for himself, -his choice might furnish some sort of a test. - -So Challis waited and said little; and Lewes was puzzled, because -he was beginning to doubt whether it were possible that the child -could sustain a pose so long. That, in itself, would be evidence -of extraordinary abnormality. Lewes fumbled in his mind for another -hypothesis. - -This reading craze may be symptomatic of some form of idiocy, was his -thought; "and I don't believe he does read," was the inevitable rider. - -Mrs. Stott usually came to meet her son, and sometimes she would come -early in the afternoon and stand at the window watching him at his -work; but neither Challis nor Lewes ever saw the Wonder display by -any sign that he was aware of his mother's presence. - -During those three weeks the Wonder held himself completely detached -from any intercourse with the world of men. At the end of that period -he once more manifested his awareness of the human factor in existence. - -Challis, if he spoke little to Lewes of the Wonder during this time, -maintained a strict observation of the child's doings. - -The Wonder began his last volume of the Encyclopædia one Wednesday -afternoon soon after lunch, and on Thursday morning, Challis was -continually in and out of the room watching the child's progress, and -noting his nearness to the end of the colossal task he had undertaken. - -At a quarter to twelve he took up his old position in the doorway, -and with his hands clasped behind his back he watched the reading of -the last forty pages. - -There was no slackening and no quickening in the Wonder's rate of -progress. He read the articles under "Z" with the same attention he -had given to the remainder of the work, and then, arrived at the last -page, he closed the volume and took up the Index. - -Challis suffered a qualm; not so much on account of the possible -postponement of the crisis he was awaiting, as because he saw that -the reading of the Index could only be taken as a sign that the -whole study had been unintelligent. No one could conceivably have -any purpose in reading through an index. - -And at this moment Lewes joined him in the doorway. - -"What volume has he got to now?" asked Lewes. - -"The Index," returned Challis. - -Lewes was no less quick in drawing his inference than Challis had been. - -"Well, that settles it, I should think," was Lewes's comment. - -"Wait, wait," returned Challis. - -The Wonder turned a dozen pages at once, glanced at the new opening, -made a further brief examination of two or three headings near the -end of the volume, closed the book, and looked up. - -"Have you finished?" asked Challis. - -The Wonder shook his head. "All this," he said--he indicated with -a small and dirty hand the pile of volumes that were massed round -him--"all this ..." he repeated, hesitated for a word, and again -shook his head with that solemn, deliberate impressiveness which -marked all his actions. - -Challis came towards the child, leaned over the table for a moment, -and then sat down opposite to him. Between the two protagonists -hovered Lewes, sceptical, inclined towards aggression. - -"I am most interested," said Challis. "Will you try to tell me, -my boy, what you think of--all this?" - -"So elementary ... inchoate ... a disjunctive ... patchwork" replied -the Wonder. His abstracted eyes were blind to the objective world of -our reality; he seemed to be profoundly analysing the very elements -of thought. - - - -VII - -Then that almost voiceless child found words. Heathcote's announcement -of lunch was waved aside, the long afternoon waned, and still that -thin trickle of sound flowed on. - -The Wonder spoke in odd, pedantic phrases; he used the technicalities -of every science; he constructed his sentences in unusual ways, and -often he paused for a word and gave up the search, admitting that -his meaning could not be expressed through the medium of any language -known to him. - -Occasionally Challis would interrupt him fiercely, would even rise -from his chair and pace the room, arguing, stating a point of view, -combating some suggestion that underlay the trend of that pitiless -wisdom which in the end bore him down with its unanswerable insistence. - -During those long hours much was stated by that small, thin voice -which was utterly beyond the comprehension of the two listeners; -indeed, it is doubtful whether even Challis understood a tithe of -the theory that was actually expressed in words. - -As for Lewes, though he was at the time non-plussed, quelled, he was -in the outcome impressed rather by the marvellous powers of memory -exhibited than by the far finer powers shown in the superhuman logic -of the synthesis. - -One sees that Lewes entered upon the interview with a mind predisposed -to criticise, to destroy. There can be no doubt that as he listened -his uninformed mind was endeavouring to analyse, to weigh, and to -oppose; and this antagonism and his own thoughts continually interposed -between him and the thought of the speaker. Lewes's account of what -was spoken on that afternoon is utterly worthless. - -Challis's failure to comprehend was not, at the outset, due to his -antagonistic attitude. He began with an earnest wish to understand: -he failed only because the thing spoken was beyond the scope of his -intellectual powers. But he did, nevertheless, understand the trend of -that analysis of progress; he did in some half-realised way apprehend -the gist of that terrible deduction of a final adjustment. - -He must have apprehended, in part, for he fiercely combated the -argument, only to quaver, at last, into a silence which permitted -again that trickle of hesitating, pedantic speech, which was yet so -overwhelming, so conclusive. - -As the afternoon wore on, however, Challis's attitude must have -changed; he must have assumed an armour of mental resistance not -unlike the resistance of Lewes. Challis perceived, however dimly, -that life would hold no further pleasure for him if he accepted that -theory of origin, evolution, and final adjustment; he found in this -cosmogony no place for his own idealism; and he feared to be convinced -even by that fraction of the whole argument which he could understand. - -We see that Challis, with all his apparent devotion to science, was -never more than a dilettante. He had another stake in the world which, -at the last analysis, he valued more highly than the acquisition of -knowledge. Those means of ease, of comfort, of liberty, of opportunity -to choose his work among various interests, were the ruling influence -of his life. With it all Challis was an idealist, and unpractical. His -genial charity, his refinement of mind, his unthinking generosity, -indicate the bias of a character which inclined always towards a -picturesque optimism. It is not difficult to understand that he -dared not allow himself to be convinced by Victor Stott's appalling -synthesis. - -At last, when the twilight was deepening into night, the voice ceased, -the child's story had been told, and it had not been understood. The -Wonder never again spoke of his theory of life. He realised from that -time that no one could comprehend him. - -As he rose to go, he asked one question that, simple as was its -expression, had a deep and wonderful significance. - -"Is there none of my kind?" he said. "Is this," and he laid a hand -on the pile of books before him, "is this all?" - -"There is none of your kind," replied Challis; and the little figure -born into a world that could not understand him, that was not ready -to receive him, walked to the window and climbed out into the darkness. - - - -(Henry Challis is the only man who could ever have given any account -of that extraordinary analysis of life, and he made no effort to -recall the fundamental basis of the argument, and so allowed his -memory of the essential part to fade. Moreover, he had a marked -disinclination to speak of that afternoon or of anything that was said -by Victor Stott during those six momentous hours of expression. It is -evident that Challis's attitude to Victor Stott was not unlike the -attitude of Captain Wallis to Victor Stott's father on the occasion -of Hampdenshire's historic match with Surrey. "This man will have to -be barred," Wallis said. "It means the end of cricket." Challis, in -effect, thought that if Victor Stott were encouraged, it would mean -the end of research, philosophy, all the mystery, idealism, and joy -of life. Once, and once only, did Challis give me any idea of what -he had learned during that afternoon's colloquy, and the substance -of what Challis then told me will be found at the end of this volume.) - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X - -HIS PASTORS AND MASTERS - - -I - -For many months after that long afternoon in the library, Challis -was affected with a fever of restlessness, and his work on the book -stood still. He was in Rome during May, and in June he was seized by -a sudden whim and went to China by the Trans-Siberian railway. Lewes -did not accompany him. Challis preferred, one imagines, to have no -intercourse with Lewes while the memory of certain pronouncements was -still fresh. He might have been tempted to discuss that interview, -and if, as was practically certain, Lewes attempted to pour contempt -on the whole affair, Challis might have been drawn into a defence -which would have revived many memories he wished to obliterate. - -He came back to London in September--he made the return journey by -steamer--and found his secretary still working at the monograph on -the primitive peoples of Melanesia. - -Lewes had spent the whole summer in Challis's town house in Eaton -Square, whither all the material had been removed two days after that -momentous afternoon in the library of Challis Court. - -"I have been wanting your help badly for some time, sir," Lewes said on -the evening of Challis's return. "Are you proposing to take up the work -again? If not...." Gregory Lewes thought he was wasting valuable time. - -"Yes, yes, of course; I am ready to begin again now, if you care to -go on with me," said Challis. He talked for a few minutes of the book -without any great show of interest. Presently they came to a pause, -and Lewes suggested that he should give some account of how his time -had been spent. - -"To-morrow," replied Challis, "to-morrow will be time enough. I shall -settle down again in a few days." He hesitated a moment, and then said: -"Any news from Chilborough?" - -"N-no, I don't think so," returned Lewes. He was occupied with his -own interests; he doubted Challis's intention to continue his work -on the book--the announcement had been so half-hearted. - -"What about that child?" asked Challis. - -"That child?" Lewes appeared to have forgotten the existence of -Victor Stott. - -"That abnormal child of Stott's?" prompted Challis. - -"Oh! Of course, yes. I believe he still goes nearly every day to the -library. I have been down there two or three times, and found him -reading. He has learned the use of the index-catalogue. He can get -any book he wants. He uses the steps." - -"Do you know what he reads?" - -"No; I can't say I do." - -"What do you think will become of him?" - -"Oh! these infant prodigies, you know," said Lewes with a large air -of authority, "they all go the same way. Most of them die young, -of course, the others develop into ordinary commonplace men rather -under than over the normal ability. After all, it is what one -would expect. Nature always maintains her average by some means or -another. If a child like this with his abnormal memory were to go on -developing, there would be no place for him in the world's economy. The -idea is inconceivable." - -"Quite, quite," murmured Challis, and after a short silence he added: -"You think he will deteriorate, that his faculties will decay -prematurely?" - -"I should say there could be no doubt of it," replied Lewes. - -"Ah! well. I'll go down and have a look at him, one day next week," -said Challis; but he did not go till the middle of October. - -The direct cause of his going was a letter from Crashaw, who offered -to come up to town, as the matter was one of "really peculiar urgency." - -"I wonder if young Stott has been blaspheming again," Challis remarked -to Lewes. "Wire the man that I'll go down and see him this afternoon. I -shall motor. Say I'll be at Stoke about half-past three." - - - -II - -Challis was ushered into Crashaw's study on his arrival, and found -the rector in company with another man--introduced as Mr. Forman--a -jolly-looking, high-complexioned man of sixty or so, with a great -quantity of white hair on his head and face; he was wearing an -old-fashioned morning-coat and grey trousers that were noticeably -too short for him. - -Crashaw lost no time in introducing the subject of "really peculiar -urgency," but he rambled in his introduction. - -"You have probably forgotten," he said, "that last spring I had to -bring a most horrible charge against a child called Victor Stott, -who has since been living, practically, as I may say, under your -ægis, that is, he has, at least, spent a greater part of his day, -er--playing in your library at Challis Court." - -"Quite, quite; I remember perfectly," said Challis. "I made myself -responsible for him up to a certain point. I gave him an occupation. It -was intended, was it not, to divert his mind from speaking against -religion to the yokels?" - -"Quite a character, if I may say so," put in Mr. Forman cheerfully. - -Crashaw was seated at his study table; the affair had something the -effect of an examining magistrate taking the evidence of witnesses. - -"Yes, yes," he said testily; "I did ask your help, Mr. Challis, -and I did, in a way, receive some assistance from you. That is, -the child has to some extent been isolated by spending so much of -his time at your house." - -"Has he broken out again?" asked Challis. - -"If I understand you to mean has the child been speaking openly -on any subject connected with religion, I must say 'No,'" said -Crashaw. "But he never attends any Sunday school, or place of worship; -he has received no instruction in--er--any sacred subject, though -I understand he is able to read; and his time is spent among books -which, pardon me, would not, I suppose, be likely to give a serious -turn to his thoughts." - -"Serious?" questioned Challis. - -"Perhaps I should say 'religious,'" replied Crashaw. "To me the two -words are synonymous." - -Mr. Forman bowed his head slightly with an air of reverence, and -nodded two or three times to express his perfect approval of the -rector's sentiments. - -"You think the child's mind is being perverted by his intercourse -with the books in the library where he--he--'plays' was your word, -I believe?" - -"No, not altogether," replied Crashaw, drawing his eyebrows -together. "We can hardly suppose that he is able at so tender an -age to read, much less to understand, those works of philosophy and -science which would produce an evil effect on his mind. I am willing -to admit, since I, too, have had some training in scientific reading, -that writers on those subjects are not easily understood even by the -mature intelligence." - -"Then why, exactly, do you wish me to prohibit the child from coming -to Challis Court?" - -"Possibly you have not realised that the child is now five years -old?" said Crashaw with an air of conferring illumination. - -"Indeed! Yes. An age of some discretion, no doubt," returned Challis. - -"An age at which the State requires that he should receive the elements -of education," continued Crashaw. - -"Eh?" said Challis. - -"Time he went to school," explained Mr. Forman. "I've been after him, -you know. I'm the attendance officer for this district." - -Challis for once committed a breach of good manners. The import of the -thing suddenly appealed to his sense of humour: he began to chuckle -and then he laughed out a great, hearty laugh, such as had not been -stirred in him for twenty years. - -"Oh! forgive me, forgive me," he said, when he had recovered his -self-control. "But you don't know; you can't conceive the utter, -childish absurdity of setting that child to recite the multiplication -table with village infants of his own age. Oh! believe me, if -you could only guess, you would laugh with me. It's so funny, so -inimitably funny." - -"I fail to see, Mr. Challis," said Crashaw, "that there is anything -in any way absurd or--or unusual in the preposition." - -"Five is the age fixed by the State," said Mr. Forman. He had relaxed -into a broad smile in sympathy with Challis's laugh, but he had now -relapsed into a fair imitation of Crashaw's intense seriousness. - -"Oh! How can I explain?" said Challis. "Let me take an instance. You -propose to teach him, among other things, the elements of arithmetic?" - -"It is a part of the curriculum," replied Mr. Forman. - -"I have only had one conversation with this child," went on -Challis--and at the mention of that conversation his brows drew -together and he became very grave again; "but in the course of that -conversation this child had occasion to refer, by way of illustration, -to some abstruse theorem of the differential calculus. He did it, -you will understand, by way of making his meaning clear--though the -illustration was utterly beyond me: that reference represented an -act of intellectual condescension." - -"God bless me, you don't say so?" said Mr. Forman. - -"I cannot see," said Crashaw, "that this instance of yours, -Mr. Challis, has any real bearing on the situation. If the child is -a mathematical genius--there have been instances in history, such as -Blaise Pascal--he would not, of course, receive elementary instruction -in a subject with which he was already acquainted." - -"You could not find any subject, believe me, Crashaw, in which he -could be instructed by any teacher in a Council school." - -"Forgive me, I don't agree with you," returned Crashaw. "He is sadly -in need of some religious training." - -"He would not get that at a Council school," said Challis, and -Mr. Forman shook his head sadly, as though he greatly deprecated -the fact. - -"He must learn to recognise authority," said Crashaw. "When he has -been taught the necessity of submitting himself to all his governors, -teachers, spiritual pastors, and masters: ordering himself lowly and -reverently to all his betters; when, I say, he has learnt that lesson, -he may be in a fit and proper condition to receive the teachings of -the Holy Church." - -Mr. Forman appeared to think he was attending divine service. If the -rector had said "Let us pray," there can be no doubt that he would -immediately have fallen on his knees. - -Challis shook his head. "You can't understand, Crashaw," he said. - -"I do understand," said Crashaw, rising to his feet, "and I intend -to see that the statute is not disobeyed in the case of this child, -Victor Stott." - -Challis shrugged his shoulders; Mr. Forman assumed an expression of -stern determination. - -"In any case, why drag me into it?" asked Challis. - -Crashaw sat down again. The flush which had warmed his sallow -skin subsided as his passion died out. He had worked himself into a -condition of righteous indignation, but the calm politeness of Challis -rebuked him. If Crashaw prided himself on his devotion to the Church, -he did not wish that attitude to overshadow the pride he also took in -the belief that he was Challis's social equal. Crashaw's father had -been a lawyer, with a fair practice in Derby, but he had worked his -way up to a partnership from the position of office-boy, and Percy -Crashaw seldom forgot to be conscious that he was a gentleman by -education and profession. - -"I did not wish to drag you into this business," he said quietly, -putting his elbows on the writing-table in front of him, and reassuming -the judicial attitude he had adopted earlier; "but I regard this -child as, in some sense, your protégé." Crashaw put the tips of his -fingers together, and Mr. Forman watched him warily, waiting for -his cue. If this was to be a case for prayer, Mr. Forman was ready, -with a clean white handkerchief to kneel upon. - -"In some sense, perhaps," returned Challis. "I haven't seen him for -some months." - -"Cannot you see the necessity of his attending school?" asked Crashaw, -this time with an insinuating suavity; he believed that Challis was -coming round. - -"Oh!" Challis sighed with a note of expostulation. "Oh! the thing's -grotesque, ridiculous." - -"If that's so," put in Mr. Forman, who had been struck by a brilliant -idea, "why not bring the child here, and let the Reverend Mr. Crashaw, -or myself, put a few general questions to 'im?" - -"Ye-es," hesitated Crashaw, "that might be done; but, of course, -the decision does not rest with us." - -"It rests with the Local Authority," mused Challis. He was running -over three or four names of members of that body who were known to him. - -"Certainly," said Crashaw, "the Local Education Authority alone has the -right to prosecute, but----" He did not state his antithesis. They had -come to the crux which Crashaw had wished to avoid. He had no weight -with the committee of the L.E.A., and Challis's recommendation would -have much weight. Crashaw intended that Victor Stott should attend -school, but he had bungled his preliminaries: he had rested on his -own authority, and forgotten that Challis had little respect for that -influence. Conciliation was the only card to play now. - -"If I brought him, he wouldn't answer your questions," sighed -Challis. "He's very difficult to deal with." - -"Is he, indeed?" sympathised Mr. Forman. "I've 'ardly seen 'im myself; -not to speak to, that is." - -"He might come with his mother," suggested Crashaw. - -Challis shook his head. "By the way, it is the mother whom you would -proceed against?" he asked. - -"The parent is responsible," said Mr. Forman. "She will be brought -before a magistrate and fined for the first offence." - -"I shan't fine her if she comes before me," replied Challis. - -Crashaw smiled. He meant to avoid that eventuality. - -The little meeting lapsed into a brief silence. There seemed to be -nothing more to say. - -"Well," said Crashaw, at last, with a rising inflexion that had a -conciliatory, encouraging, now-my-little-man kind of air, "We-ll, of -course, no one wishes to proceed to extremes. I think, Mr. Challis, -I think I may say that you are the person who has most influence -in this matter, and I cannot believe that you will go against the -established authority both of the Church and the State. If it were -only for the sake of example." - -Challis rose deliberately. He shook his head, and unconsciously his -hands went behind his back. There was hardly room for him to pace up -and down, but he took two steps towards Mr. Forman, who immediately -rose to his feet; and then he turned and went over to the window. It -was from there that he pronounced his ultimatum. - -"Regulations, laws, religious and lay authorities," he said, "come -into existence in order to deal with the rule, the average. That -must be so. But if we are a reasoning, intellectual people we must -have some means of dealing with the exception. That means rests -with a consensus of intelligent opinion strong enough to set the -rule upon one side. In an overwhelming majority of cases there -is no such consensus of opinion, and the exceptional individual -suffers by coming within the rule of a law which should not apply -to him. Now, I put it to you, as reasoning, intelligent men" ('ear, -'ear, murmured Mr. Forman automatically), "are we, now that we have -the power to perform a common act of justice, to exempt an unfortunate -individual exception who has come within the rule of a law that holds -no application for him, or are we to exhibit a crass stupidity by -enforcing that law? Is it not better to take the case into our own -hands, and act according to the dictates of common sense?" - -"Very forcibly put," murmured Mr. Forman. - -"I'm not finding any fault with the law or the principle of the law," -continued Challis; "but it is, it must be, framed for the average. We -must use our discretion in dealing with the exception--and this -is an exception such as has never occurred since we have had an -Education Act." - -"I don't agree with you," said Crashaw, stubbornly. "I do not consider -this an exception." - -"But you must agree with me, Crashaw. I have a certain amount of -influence and I shall use it." - -"In that case," replied Crashaw, rising to his feet, "I shall fight -you to the bitter end. I am determined"--he raised his voice and -struck the writing-table with his fist--"I am determined that this -infidel child shall go to school. I am prepared, if necessary, to -spend all my leisure in seeing that the law is carried out." - -Mr. Forman had also risen. "Very right, very right, indeed," he said, -and he knitted his mild brows and stroked his patriarchal white beard -with a simulation of stern determination. - -"I think you would be better advised to let the matter rest," -said Challis. - -Mr. Forman looked inquiringly at the representative of the Church. - -"I shall fight," replied Crashaw, stubbornly, fiercely. - -"Ha!" said Mr. Forman. - -"Very well, as you think best," was Challis's last word. - -As Challis walked down to the gate, where his motor was awaiting him, -Mr. Forman trotted up from behind and ranged himself alongside. - -"More rain wanted yet for the roots, sir," he said. "September was -a grand month for 'arvest, but we want rain badly now." - -"Quite, quite," murmured Challis, politely. He shook hands with -Mr. Forman before he got into the car. - -Mr. Forman, standing politely bareheaded, saw that Mr. Challis's car -went in the direction of Ailesworth. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -HIS EXAMINATION - - -I - -Challis's first visit was paid to Sir Deane Elmer, that man of many -activities, whose name inevitably suggests his favourite phrase of -"Organised Progress"--with all its variants. - -This is hardly the place in which to criticise a man of such -diverse abilities as Deane Elmer, a man whose name still figures so -prominently in the public press in connection with all that is most -modern in eugenics; with the Social Reform programme of the moderate -party; with the reconstruction of our penal system; with education, -and so many kindred interests; and, finally, of course, with colour -photography and process printing. This last Deane Elmer always spoke -of as his hobby, but we may doubt whether all his interests were -not hobbies in the same sense. He is the natural descendant of those -earlier amateur scientists--the adjective conveys no reproach--of the -nineteenth century, among whom we remember such striking figures as -those of Lord Avebury and Sir Francis Galton. - -In appearance Deane Elmer was a big, heavy, rather corpulent man, with -a high complexion, and his clean-shaven jowl and his succession of -chins hung in heavy folds. But any suggestion of material grossness -was contradicted by the brightness of his rather pale-blue eyes, -by his alertness of manner, and by his ready, whimsical humour. - -As chairman of the Ailesworth County Council, and its most prominent -unpaid public official--after the mayor--Sir Deane Elmer was certainly -the most important member of the Local Authority, and Challis wisely -sought him at once. He found him in the garden of his comparatively -small establishment on the Quainton side of the town. Elmer was very -much engaged in photographing flowers from nature through the ruled -screen and colour filter--in experimenting with the Elmer process, -in fact; by which the intermediate stage of a coloured negative is -rendered unnecessary. His apparatus was complicated and cumbrous. - -"Show Mr. Challis out here," he commanded the man who brought the -announcement. - -"You must forgive me, Challis," said Elmer, when Challis appeared. "We -haven't had such a still day for weeks. It's the wind upsets us in -this process. Screens create a partial vacuum." - -He was launched on a lecture upon his darling process before Challis -could get in a word. It was best to let him have his head, and Challis -took an intelligent interest. - -It was not until the photographs were taken, and his two assistants -could safely be trusted to complete the mechanical operations, -that Elmer could be divorced from his hobby. He was full of -jubilation. "We should have excellent results," he boomed--he had a -tremendous voice--"but we shan't be able to judge until we get the -blocks made. We do it all on the spot. I have a couple of platens in -the shops here; but we shan't be able to take a pull until to-morrow -morning, I'm afraid. You shall have a proof, Challis. We should get -magnificent results." He looked benignantly at the vault of heaven, -which had been so obligingly free from any current of air. - -Challis was beginning to fear that even now he would be allowed no -opportunity to open the subject of his mission. But quite suddenly -Elmer dropped the shutter on his preoccupation, and with that ready -adaptability which was so characteristic of the man, forgot his hobby -for the time being, and turned his whole attention to a new subject. - -"Well?" he said, "what is the latest news in anthropology?" - -"A very remarkable phenomenon," replied Challis. "That is what I have -come to see you about." - -"I thought you were in Paraguay pigging it with the Guaranis----" - -"No, no; I don't touch the Americas," interposed Challis. "I want -all your attention, Elmer. This is important." - -"Come into my study," said Elmer, "and let us have the facts. What -will you have--tea, whisky, beer?" - -Challis's résumé of the facts need not be reported. When it was -accomplished, Elmer put several keen questions, and finally delivered -his verdict thus: - -"We must see the boy, Challis. Personally I am, of course, satisfied, -but we must not give Crashaw opportunity to raise endless questions, -as he can and will. There is Mayor Purvis, the grocer, to be reckoned -with, you must remember. He represents a powerful Nonconformist -influence. Crashaw will get hold of him--and work him if we see -Purvis first. Purvis always stiffens his neck against any breach of -conventional procedure. If Crashaw saw him first, well and good, Purvis -would immediately jump to the conclusion that Crashaw intended some -subtle attack on the Nonconformist position, and would side with us." - -"I don't think I know Purvis," mused Challis. - -"Purvis & Co. in the Square," prompted Elmer. "Black-and-white fellow; -black moustache and side whiskers, black eyes and white face. There's -a suggestion of the Methodist pulpit about him. Doesn't appear in the -shop much, and when he does, always looks as if he'd sooner sell you -a Bible than a bottle of whisky." - -"Ah, yes! I know," said Challis. "I daresay you're right, Elmer; but -it will be difficult to persuade this child to answer any questions -his examiners may put to him." - -"Surely he must be open to reason," roared Elmer. "You tell me he has -an extraordinary intelligence, and in the next sentence you imply -that the child's a fool who can't open his mouth to serve his own -interests. What's your paradox?" - -"Sublimated material. Intellectual insight and absolute spiritual -blindness," replied Challis, getting to his feet. "The child has gone -too far in one direction--in another he has made not one step. His -mind is a magnificent, terrible machine. He has the imagination -of a mathematician and a logician developed beyond all conception, -he has not one spark of the imagination of a poet. And so he cannot -deal with men; he can't understand their weaknesses and limitations; -they are geese and hens to him, creatures to be scared out of his -vicinity. However, I will see what I can do. Could you arrange for -the members of the Authority to come to my place?" - -"I should think so. Yes," said Elmer. "I say, Challis, are you sure -you're right about this child? Sounds to me like some--some freak." - -"You'll see," returned Challis. "I'll try and arrange an -interview. I'll let you know." - -"And, by the way," said Elmer, "you had better invite Crashaw to -be present. He will put Purvis's back up, and that'll enlist the -difficult grocer on our side probably." - -When Challis had gone, Elmer stood for a few minutes, thoughtfully -scratching the ample red surface of his wide, clean-shaven cheek. "I -don't know," he ejaculated at last, addressing his empty study, "I -don't know." And with that expression he put all thought of Victor -Stott away from him, and sat down to write an exhaustive article on -the necessity for a broader basis in primary education. - - - -II - -Challis called at the rectory of Stoke-Underhill on his way back to -his own house. - -"I give way," was the characteristic of his attitude to Crashaw, and -the rector suppled his back again, remembered the Derby office-boy's -tendency to brag, and made the amende honorable. He even overdid -his magnanimity and came too near subservience--so lasting is the -influence of the lessons of youth. - -Crashaw did not mention that in the interval between the two interviews -he had called upon Mr. Purvis in the Square. The ex-mayor had refused -to commit himself to any course of action. - -Challis forgot the rectory and all that it connoted before he was well -outside the rectory's front door. Challis had a task before him that he -regarded with the utmost distaste. He had warmly championed a cause; -he had been heated by the presentation of a manifest injustice which -was none the less tyrannical because it was ridiculous. But now he -realised that it was only the abstract question which had aroused his -enthusiastic advocacy, and he shrank from the interview with Victor -Stott--that small, deliberate, intimidating child. - -Henry Challis, the savant, the man of repute in letters, the respected -figure in the larger world; Challis, the proprietor and landlord; -Challis, the power among known men, knew that he would have to -plead, to humble himself, to be prepared for a rebuff--worst of all, -to acknowledge the justice of taking so undignified a position. Any -aristocrat may stoop with dignity when he condescends of his own free -will; but there are few who can submit gracefully to deserved contempt. - -Challis was one of the few. He had many admirable -qualities. Nevertheless, during that short motor ride from Stoke to -his own house, he resented the indignity he anticipated, resented it -intensely--and submitted. - - - -III - -He was allowed no respite. Victor Stott was emerging from the library -window as Challis rolled up to the hall door. It was one of Ellen -Mary's days--she stood respectfully in the background while her son -descended; she curtsied to Challis as he came forward. - -He hesitated a moment. He would not risk insult in the presence of -his chauffeur and Mrs. Stott. He confronted the Wonder; he stood -before him, and over him like a cliff. - -"I must speak to you for a moment on a matter of some importance," -said Challis to the little figure below him, and as he spoke he -looked over the child's head at the child's mother. "It is a matter -that concerns your own welfare. Will you come into the house with me -for a few minutes?" - -Ellen Mary nodded, and Challis understood. He turned and led -the way. At the door, however, he stood aside and spoke again to -Mrs. Stott. "Won't you come in and have some tea, or something?" he -asked. - -"No, sir, thank you, sir," replied Ellen Mary; "I'll just wait 'ere -till 'e's ready." - -"At least come in and sit down," said Challis, and she came in and sat -in the hall. The Wonder had already preceded them into the house. He -had walked into the morning-room--probably because the door stood open, -though he was now tall enough to reach the handles of the Challis -Court doors. He stood in the middle of the room when Challis entered. - -"Won't you sit down?" said Challis. - -The Wonder shook his head. - -"I don't know if you are aware," began Challis, "that there is a system -of education in England at the present time, which requires that every -child should attend school at the age of five years, unless the parents -are able to provide their children with an education elsewhere." - -The Wonder nodded. - -Challis inferred that he need proffer no further information with -regard to the Education Act. - -"Now, it is very absurd," he continued, "and I have, myself, pointed -out the absurdity; but there is a man of some influence in this -neighbourhood who insists that you should attend the elementary -school." He paused, but the Wonder gave no sign. - -"I have argued with this man," continued Challis, "and I have also -seen another member of the Local Education Authority--a man of some -note in the larger world--and it seems that you cannot be exempted -unless you convince the Authority that your knowledge is such that -to give you a Council school education would be the most absurd farce." - -"Cannot you stand in loco parentis?" asked the Wonder suddenly, -in his still, thin voice. - -"You mean," said Challis, startled by this outburst, "that I am in -a sense providing you with an education? Quite true; but there is -Crashaw to deal with." - -"Inform him," said the Wonder. - -Challis sighed. "I have," he said, "but he can't understand." And -then, feeling the urgent need to explain something of the motives that -govern this little world of ours--the world into which this strangely -logical exception had been born--Challis attempted an exposition. - -"I know," he said, "that these things must seem to you utterly absurd, -but you must try to realise that you are an exception to the world -about you; that Crashaw or I, or, indeed, the greatest minds of the -present day, are not ruled by the fine logic which you are able to -exercise. We are children compared to you. We are swayed even in -the making of our laws by little primitive emotions and passions, -self-interests, desires. And at the best we are not capable of -ordering our lives and our government to those just ends which we -may see, some of us, are abstractly right and fine. We are at the -mercy of that great mass of the people who have not yet won to an -intellectual and discriminating judgment of how their own needs may -best be served, and whose representatives consider the interests -of a party, a constituency, and especially of their own personal -ambitions and welfare, before the needs of humanity as a whole, -or even the humanity of these little islands. - -"Above all, we are divided man against man. We are split into parties -and factions, by greed and jealousies, petty spites and self-seeking, -by unintelligence, by education, and by our inability--a mental -inability--'to see life steadily and see it whole,' and lastly, perhaps -chiefly, by our intense egotisms, both physical and intellectual. - -"Try to realise this. It is necessary, because whatever your wisdom, -you have to live in a world of comparative ignorance, a world which -cannot appreciate you, but which can and will fall back upon the -compelling power of the savage--the resort to physical, brute force." - -The Wonder nodded. "You suggest----?" he said. - -"Merely that you should consent to answer certain elementary questions -which the members of the Local Authority will put to you," replied -Challis. "I can arrange that these questions be asked here--in the -library. Will you consent?" - -The Wonder nodded, and made his way into the hall, without another -word. His mother rose and opened the front door for him. - -As Challis watched the curious couple go down the drive, he sighed -again, perhaps with relief, perhaps at the impotence of the world -of men. - - - -IV - -There were four striking figures on the Education Committee selected -by the Ailesworth County Council. - -The first of these was Sir Deane Elmer, who was also chairman of the -Council at this time. The second was the vice-chairman, Enoch Purvis, -the ex-mayor, commonly, if incorrectly, known as "Mayor" Purvis. - -The third was Richard Standing, J.P., who owned much property on -the Quainton side of the town. He was a bluff, hearty man, devoted -to sport and agriculture; a Conservative by birth and inclination, -a staunch upholder of the Church and the Tariff Reform movement. - -The fourth was the Rev. Philip Steven, a co-opted member of the -Committee, head master of the Ailesworth Grammar School. Steven was -a tall, thin man with bent shoulders, and he had a long, thin face, -the length of which was exaggerated by his square brown beard. He wore -gold-mounted spectacles which, owing to his habit of dropping his head, -always needed adjustment whenever he looked up. The movement of lifting -his head and raising his hand to his glasses had become so closely -associated, that his hand went up even when there was no apparent -need for the action. Steven spoke of himself as a Broad Churchman, -and in his speech on prize-day he never omitted some allusion to the -necessity for "marching" or "keeping step" with the times. But Elmer -was inclined to laugh at this assumption of modernity. "Steven," -he said, on one occasion, "marks time and thinks he is keeping -step. And every now and then he runs a little to catch up." The point -of Elmer's satire lay in the fact that Steven was usually to be seen -either walking very slowly, head down, lost in abstraction; or--when -aroused to a sense of present necessity--going with long strides as -if intent on catching up with the times without further delay. Very -often, too, he might be seen running across the school playground, -his hand up to those elusive glasses of his. "There goes Mr. Steven, -catching up with the times," had become an accepted phrase. - -There were other members of the Education Committee, notably -Mrs. Philip Steven, but they were subordinate. If those four -striking figures were unanimous, no other member would have dreamed -of expressing a contrary opinion. But up to this time they had not -yet been agreed upon any important line of action. - -This four, Challis and Crashaw met in the morning-room of Challis -Court one Thursday afternoon in early June. Elmer had brought a -stenographer with him for scientific purposes. - -"Well," said Challis, when they were all assembled. "The--the -subject--I mean, Victor Stott is in the library. Shall we -adjourn?" Challis had not felt so nervous since the morning before -he had sat for honours in the Cambridge Senate House. - -In the library they found a small child, reading. - - - -V - -He did not look up when the procession entered, nor did he remove -his cricket cap. He was in his usual place at the centre table. - -Challis found chairs for the Committee, and the members ranged -themselves round the opposite side of the table. Curiously, the effect -produced was that of a class brought up for a viva voce examination, -and when the Wonder raised his eyes and glanced deliberately down the -line of his judges, this effect was heightened. There was an audible -fidgeting, a creak of chairs, an indication of small embarrassments. - -"Her--um!" Deane Elmer cleared his throat with noisy vigour; -looked at the Wonder, met his eyes and looked hastily away again; -"Hm!--her--rum!" he repeated, and then he turned to Challis. "So this -little fellow has never been to school?" he said. - -Challis frowned heavily. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable and -unhappy. He was conscious that he could take neither side in this -controversy--that he was in sympathy with no one of the seven other -persons who were seated in his library. - -He shook his head impatiently in answer to Sir Deane Elmer's question, -and the chairman turned to the Rev. Philip Steven, who was gazing -intently at the pattern of the carpet. - -"I think, Steven," said Elmer, "that your large experience will -probably prompt you to a more efficient examination than we could -conduct. Will you initiate the inquiry?" - -Steven raised his head slightly, put a readjusting hand up to -his glasses, and then looked sternly at the Wonder over the top -of them. Even the sixth form quailed when the head master assumed -this expression, but the small child at the table was gazing out of -the window. - -Doubtless Steven was slightly embarrassed by the detachment of the -examinee, and blundered. "What is the square root of 226?" he asked--he -probably intended to say 225. - -"15·03329--to five places," replied the Wonder. - -Steven started. Neither he nor any other member of the Committee was -capable of checking that answer without resort to pencil and paper. - -"Dear me!" ejaculated Squire Standing. - -Elmer scratched the superabundance of his purple jowl, and looked -at Challis, who thrust his hands into his pockets and stared at -the ceiling. - -Crashaw leaned forward and clasped his hands together. He was biding -his time. - -"Mayor" Purvis alone seemed unmoved. "What's that book he's got open -in front of him?" he asked. - -"May I see?" interposed Challis hurriedly, and he rose from his chair, -picked up the book in question, glanced at it for a moment, and then -handed it to the grocer. The book was Van Vloten's Dutch text and -Latin translation of Spinoza's Short Treatise. - -The grocer turned to the -title-page. "Ad--beany--dick--ti--de--Spy--nozer," he read aloud -and then: "What's it all about, Mr. Challis?" he asked. "German or -something, I take it?" - -"In any case it has nothing to do with elementary arithmetic," replied -Challis curtly, "Mr. Steven will set your mind at ease on that point." - -"Certainly, certainly," murmured Steven. - -Grocer Purvis closed the book carefully and replaced it on the -desk. "What does half a stone o' loaf sugar at two-three-farthings -come to?" he asked. - -The Wonder shook his head. He did not understand the grocer's -phraseology. - -"What is seven times two and three quarters?" translated Challis. - -"19·25," answered the Wonder. - -"What's that in shillin's?" asked Purvis. - -"1·60416." - -"Wrong!" returned the grocer triumphantly. - -"Er--excuse me, Mr. Purvis," interposed Steven, "I think -not. The--the--er--examinee has given the correct mathematical -answer to five places of decimals--that is, so far as I can check -him mentally." - -"Well, it seems to me," persisted the grocer, "as he's gone a long -way round to answer a simple question what any fifth-standard child -could do in his head. I'll give him another." - -"Cast it in another form," put in the chairman. "Give it as a -multiplication sum." - -Purvis tucked his fingers carefully into his waistcoat pockets. "I -put the question, Mr. Chairman," he said, "as it'll be put to the -youngster when he has to tot up a bill. That seems to be a sound and -practical form for such questions to be put in." - -Challis sighed impatiently. "I thought Mr. Steven had been delegated -to conduct the first part of the examination," he said. "It seems to -me that we are wasting a lot of time." - -Elmer nodded. "Will you go on, Mr. Steven?" he said. - -Challis was ashamed for his compeers. "What children we are," -he thought. - -Steven got to work again with various arithmetical questions, which -were answered instantly, and then he made a sudden leap and asked: -"What is the binomial theorem?" - -"A formula for writing down the coefficient of any stated term in the -expansion of any stated power of a given binomial," replied the Wonder. - -Elmer blew out his cheeks and looked at Challis, but met the gaze of -Mr. Steven, who adjusted his glasses and said, "I am satisfied under -this head." - -"It's all beyond me," remarked Squire Standing frankly. - -"I think, Mr. Chairman, that we've had enough theoretical arithmetic," -said Purvis. "There's a few practical questions I'd like to put." - -"No more arithmetic, then," assented Elmer, and Crashaw exchanged a -glance of understanding with the grocer. - -"Now, how old was our Lord when He began His ministry?" asked the -grocer. - -"Uncertain," replied the Wonder. - -Mr. Purvis smiled. "Any Sunday-school child knows that!" he said. - -"Of course, of course," murmured Crashaw. - -But Steven looked uncomfortable. "Are you sure you understand the -purport of the answer, Mr. Purvis?" he asked. - -"Can there be any doubt about it?" replied the grocer. "I asked how -old our Lord was when He began His ministry, and he"--he made an -indicative gesture with one momentarily released hand towards the -Wonder--"and he says he's 'uncertain.'" - -"No, no," interposed Challis impatiently, "he meant that the answer -to your question was uncertain." - -"How's that?" returned the grocer. "I've always understood----" - -"Quite, quite," interrupted Challis. "But what we have always -understood does not always correspond to the actual fact." - -"What did you intend by your answer?" put in Elmer quickly, addressing -the Wonder. - -"The evidence rests mainly on Luke's Gospel," answered the Wonder, -"but the phrase 'archomenos hôsei etôn triakonta' is vague--it allows -latitude in either direction. According to the chronology of John's -Gospel the age might have been about thirty-two." - -"It says 'thirty' in the Bible, and that's good enough for me," said -the grocer, and Crashaw muttered "Heresy, heresy," in an audible -under tone. - -"Sounds very like blarsphemy to me," said Purvis, "like doubtin' -the word of God. I'm for sending him to school." - -Deane Elmer had been regarding the face of the small abstracted child -with considerable interest. He put aside for the moment the grocer's -intimation of his voting tendency. - -"How many elements are known to chemists?" asked Elmer of the examinee. - -"Eighty-one well characterised; others have been described," replied -the Wonder. - -"Which has the greatest atomic weight?" asked Elmer. - -"Uranium." - -"And that weight is?" - -"On the oxygen basis of 16--238·5." - -"Extraordinary powers of memory," muttered Elmer, and there was -silence for a moment, a silence broken by Squire Standing, who, -in a loud voice, asked suddenly and most irrelevantly, "What's your -opinion of Tariff Reform?" - -"An empirical question that cannot be decided from a theoretical -basis," replied the Wonder. - -Elmer laughed out, a great shouting guffaw. "Quite right, quite -right," he said, his cheeks shaking with mirth. "What have you to -say to that, Standing?" - -"I say that Tariff Reform's the only way to save the country," -replied Squire Standing, looking very red and obstinate, "and if -this Government----" - -Challis rose to his feet. "Oh! aren't you all satisfied?" he said. "Is -this Committee here to argue questions of present politics? What more -evidence do you need?" - -"I'm not satisfied," put in Purvis resolutely, "nor is the -Rev. Mr. Crashaw, I fancy." - -"He has no vote," said Challis. "Elmer, what do you say?" - -"I think we may safely say that the child has been, and is being, -provided with an education elsewhere, and that he need not therefore -attend the elementary school," replied Elmer, still chuckling. - -"On a point of order, Mr. Chairman, is that what you put to the -meeting?" asked Purvis. - -"This is quite informal," replied Elmer. "Unless we are all agreed, -the question must be put to the full Committee." - -"Shall we argue the point in the other room?" suggested Challis. - -"Certainly, certainly," said Elmer. "We can return, if necessary." - -And the four striking figures of the Education Committee filed out, -followed by Crashaw and the stenographer. - -Challis, coming last, paused at the door and looked back. - -The Wonder had returned to his study of Spinoza. - -Challis waved a hand to the unconscious figure. "I must join my -fellow-children," he said grimly, "or they will be quarrelling." - - - -VI - -But when he joined his fellow-children, Challis stood at the window -of the morning-room, attending little to the buzz of voices and the -clatter of glasses which marked the relief from the restraint of the -examination-room. Even the stenographer was talking; he had joined -Crashaw and Purvis--a lemonade group; the other three were drinking -whisky. The division, however, is arbitrary, and in no way significant. - -Challis caught a fragment of the conversation here and there: a -bull-roar from Elmer or Squire Standing; an occasional blatancy -from Purvis; a vibrant protest from Crashaw; a hesitating tenor -pronouncement from Steven. - -"Extraordinary powers of memory.... It isn't facts, but what they -stand for that I.... Don't know his Bible--that's good enough for -me.... Heresy, heresy.... A phenomenal memory, of course, quite -phenomenal, but----" - -The simple exposition of each man's theme was dogmatically asserted, -and through it all Challis, standing alone, hardly conscious of -each individual utterance, was still conscious that the spirits of -those six men were united in one thing, had they but known it. Each -was endeavouring to circumscribe the powers of the child they had -just left--each was insistent on some limitation he chose to regard -as vital. - -They came to no decision that afternoon. The question as to whether the -Authority should prosecute or not had to be referred to the Committee. - -At the last, Crashaw entered his protest and announced once more that -he would fight the point to the bitter end. - -Crashaw's religious hatred was not, perhaps, altogether free from -a sense of affronted dignity, but it was nevertheless a force to be -counted; and he had that obstinacy of the bigot which has in the past -contributed much fire and food to the pyre of martyrdom. He had, too, -a power of initiative within certain limits. It is true that the bird -on a free wing could avoid him with contemptuous ease, but along his -own path he was a terrifying juggernaut. Crashaw, thus circumscribed, -was a power, a moving force. - -But now he was seeking to crush, not some paralysed rabbit on the -road, but an elusive spirit of swiftness which has no name, but may be -figured as the genius of modernity. The thing he sought to obliterate -ran ahead of him with a smiling facility and spat rearwards a vaporous -jet of ridicule. - -Crashaw might crush his clerical wideawake over his frowning eyebrows, -arm himself with a slightly dilapidated umbrella, and seek with long, -determined strides the members of the Local Education Authority, -but far ahead of him had run an intelligence that represented the -instructed common sense of modernity. - -It was for Crashaw to realise--as he never could and never did -realise--that he was no longer the dominant force of progress; that -he had been outstripped, left toiling and shouting vain words on a -road that had served its purpose, and though it still remained and was -used as a means of travel, was becoming year by year more antiquated -and despised. - -Crashaw toiled to the end, and no one knows how far his personal -purpose and spite were satisfied, but he could never impede any more -that elusive spirit of swiftness; it had run past him. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -FUGITIVE - - -Meanwhile a child of five--all unconscious that he was being -represented to various members of the Local Education Authority as a -protégé under the especial care and tutelage of the greatest of local -magnates--ran through a well-kept index of the books in the library -of Challis Court--an index written clearly on cards that occupied a -great nest of accessible drawers; two cards with a full description -to each book, alphabetically arranged, one card under the title of -the work and one under the author's name. - -The child made no notes as he studied--he never wrote a single line -in all his life; but when a drawer of that delightful index had -been searched, he would walk here and there among the three rooms -at his disposal, and by the aid of the flight of framed steps that -ran smoothly on rubber-tyred wheels, he would take down now and again -some book or another until, returning to the table at last to read, he -sat in an enceinte of piled volumes that had been collected round him. - -Sometimes he read a book from beginning to end, more often he glanced -through it, turning a dozen pages at a time, and then pushed it on -one side with a gesture displaying the contempt that was not shown -by any change of expression. - -On many afternoons the sombrely clad figure of a tall, gaunt woman -would stand at the open casement of a window in the larger room, and -keep a mystic vigil that sometimes lasted for hours. She kept her gaze -fixed on that strange little figure whenever it roved up and down the -suite of rooms or clambered the pyramid of brown steps that might have -made such a glorious plaything for any other child. And even when her -son was hidden behind the wall of volumes he had built, the woman would -still stare in his direction, but then her eyes seemed to look inwards; -at such times she appeared to be wrapped in an introspective devotion. - -Very rarely, the heavy-shouldered figure of a man would come to the -doorway of the larger room, and also keep a silent vigil--a man who -would stand for some minutes with thoughtful eyes and bent brows -and then sigh, shake his head and move away, gently closing the door -behind him. - -There were few other interruptions to the silence of that chapel-like -library. Half a dozen times in the first few months a fair-haired, -rather supercilious young man came and fetched away a few volumes; -but even he evidenced an inclination to walk on tip-toe, a tendency -that mastered him whenever he forgot for a moment his self-imposed -rôle of scorn.... - -Outside, over the swelling undulations of rich grass the sheep came -back with close-cropped, ungainly bodies to a land that was yellow -with buttercups. But when one looked again, their wool hung about -them, and they were snatching at short turf that was covered at the -wood-side by a sprinkle of brown leaves. Then the sheep have gone, -and the wood is black with February rain, and again the unfolding -of the year is about us; a thickening of high twigs in the wood, -a glint of green on the blackthorn.... - -Nearly three cycles of death and birth have run their course, -and then the strange little figure comes no more to the library at -Challis Court. - - - - - - - -PART III - -MY ASSOCIATION WITH THE WONDER - - -CHAPTER XIII - -HOW I WENT TO PYM TO WRITE A BOOK - - -I - -The circumstance that had intrigued me for so long was determined with -an abruptness only less remarkable than the surprise of the onset. Two -deaths within six months brought to me, the first, a competence, -the second, release from gall and bitterness. For the first time -in my life I was a free man. At forty one can still look forward, -and I put the past behind me and made plans for the future. There -was that book of mine still waiting to be written. - -It was wonderful how the detail of it all came back to me--the -plan of it, the thread of development, even the very phrases that -I had toyed with. The thought of the book brought back a train of -associations. There was a phrase I had coined as I had walked out -from Ailesworth to Stoke-Underhill; a chapter I had roughed out -the day I went to see Ginger Stott at Pym. It seemed to me that the -whole conception of the book was associated in some way with that -neighbourhood. I remembered at last that I had first thought of -writing it after my return from America, on the day that I had had -that curious experience with the child in the train. It occurred to -me that by a reversal of the process, I might regain many more of -my original thoughts; that by going to live, temporarily perhaps, -in the neighbourhood of Ailesworth, I might revive other associations. - -The picture of Pym presented itself to me very clearly. I remembered -that I had once thought that Pym was a place to which I might retire -one day in order to write the things I wished to write. I decided to -make the dream a reality, and I wrote to Mrs. Berridge at the Wood -Farm, asking her if she could let me have her rooms for the spring, -summer, and autumn. - - - -II - -I was all aglow with excitement on the morning that I set out for the -Hampden Hills. This was change, I thought, freedom, adventure. This -was the beginning of life, my real entry into the joy of living. - -The world was alight with the fire of growth. May had come with -a clear sky and a torrent of green was flowing over field, hedge, -and wood. I remember that I thanked "whatever gods there be," that -one could live so richly in the enjoyment of these things. - - - -III - -Farmer Bates met me at Great Hittenden Station. His was the only -available horse and cart at Pym, for the Berridges were in a very -small way, and it is doubtful if they could have made both ends meet -if Mrs. Berridge had not done so well by letting her two spare rooms. - -I have a great admiration for Farmer Bates and Mrs. Berridge. I regret -intensely that they should both have been unhappily married. If they -had married each other they would undoubtedly have made a success -of life. - -Bates was a Cockney by birth, but always he had had an ambition to take -a farm, and after twenty years of work as a skilled mechanic he had -thrown up a well-paid job, and dared the uncertainties which beset the -English farmer. That venture was a constant bone of strife between him -and his wife. Mrs. Bates preferred the town. It has always seemed to -me that there was something fine about Bates and his love for the land. - -"Good growing weather, Mr. Bates," I said, as I climbed up into -the cart. - -"Shouldn't be sorry to see some more rain," replied Bates, and damped -my ardour for a moment. - -Just before we turned into the lane that leads up the long hill to Pym, -we passed a ramshackle cart, piled up with a curious miscellany of -ruinous furniture. A man was driving, and beside him sat a slatternly -woman and a repulsive-looking boy of ten or twelve years old, with -a great swollen head and an open, slobbering mouth. - -I was startled. I jumped to the conclusion that this was the child -I had seen in the train, the son of Ginger Stott. - -As we slowed down to the ascent of the long hill, I said to Bates: -"Is that Stott's boy?" - -Bates looked at me curiously. "Why, no," he said. "Them's the -'Arrisons. 'Arrison's dead now; he was a wrong 'un, couldn't make -a job of it, nohow. They used to live 'ere, five or six year ago, -and now 'er 'usband's dead, Mrs. 'Arrison's coming back with the boy -to live. Worse luck! We thought we was shut of 'em." - -"Oh!" I said. "The boy's an idiot, I suppose." - -"'Orrible," replied Bates, shaking his head, "'orrible; can't speak -nor nothing; goes about bleating and baa-ing like an old sheep." - -I looked round, but the ramshackle cart was hidden by the turn of -the road. "Does Stott still live at Pym?" I asked. - -"Not Ginger," replied Bates. "He lives at Ailesworth. Mrs. Stott and -'er son lives here." - -"The boy's still alive then?" I asked. - -"Yes," said Bates. - -"Intelligent child?" I asked. - -"They say," replied Bates. "Book-learnin' and such. They say 'e's -read every book in Mr. Challis's librairy." - -"Does he go to school?" - -"No. They let 'im off. Leastways Mr. Challis did. They say the Reverend -Crashaw, down at Stoke, was fair put out about it." - -I thought that Bates emphasised the "on dit" nature of his information -rather markedly. "What do you think of him?" I asked. - -"Me?" said Bates. "I don't worry my 'ead about him. I've got too much -to do." And he went off into technicalities concerning the abundance -of charlock on the arable land of Pym. He called it "garlic." I saw -that it was typical of Bates that he should have too much to do. I -reflected that his was the calling which begot civilisation. - - - -IV - -The best and surest route from Pym to the Wood Farm is, appropriately, -by way of the wood; but in wet weather the alternative of various -cart tracks that wind among the bracken and shrub of the Common, is -preferable in many ways. May had been very dry that year, however, -and Farmer Bates chose the wood. The leaves were still light on the -beeches. I remember that as I tried to pierce the vista of stems -that dipped over the steep fall of the hill, I promised myself many -a romantic exploration of the unknown mysteries beyond. - -Everything was so bright that afternoon that nothing, I believe, -could have depressed me. When I looked round the low, dark room with -its one window, a foot from the ground and two from the ceiling, -I only thought that I should be out-of-doors all the time. It amused -me that I could touch the ceiling with my head by standing on tiptoe, -and I laughed at the framed "presentation plates" from old Christmas -numbers on the walls. These things are merely curious when the sun -is shining and it is high May, and one is free to do the desired work -after twenty years in a galley. - - - -V - -At a quarter to eight that evening I saw the sun set behind the -hills. As I wandered reflectively down the lane that goes towards -Challis Court, a blackbird was singing ecstatically in a high elm; here -and there a rabbit popped out and sat up, the picture of precocious -curiosity. Nature seemed to be standing in her doorway for a careless -half-hour's gossip, before putting up the shutters to bar the robbers -who would soon be about their work of the night. - -It was still quite light as I strolled back over the Common, and I -chose a path that took me through a little spinney of ash, oak, and -beech, treading carefully to avoid crushing the tender crosiers of -bracken that were just beginning to break their way through the soil. - -As I emerged from the little clump of wood, I saw two figures going -away from me in the direction of Pym. - -One was that of a boy wearing a cricket-cap; he was walking -deliberately, his hands hanging at his sides; the other figure was a -taller boy, and he threw out his legs in a curious, undisciplined way, -as though he had little control over them. At first sight I thought -he was not sober. - -The two passed out of sight behind a clump of hawthorn, but once I -saw the smaller figure turn and face the other, and once he made a -repelling gesture with his hands. - -It occurred to me that the smaller boy was trying to avoid his -companion; that he was, in one sense, running away from him, that -he walked as one might walk away from some threatening animal, -deliberately--to simulate the appearance of courage. - -I fancied the bigger boy was the idiot Harrison I had seen that -afternoon, and Farmer Bates's "We hoped we were shut of him," recurred -to me. I wondered if the idiot were dangerous or only a nuisance. - -I took the smaller boy to be one of the villagers' children. I noticed -that his cricket-cap had a dark patch as though it had been mended -with some other material. - -The impression which I received from this trivial affair was one -of disappointment. The wood and the Common had been so deserted by -humanity, so given up to nature, that I felt the presence of the -idiot to be a most distasteful intrusion. "If that horrible thing is -going to haunt the Common there will be no peace or decency," was the -idea that presented itself. "I must send him off, the brute," was the -rider. But I disliked the thought of being obliged to drive him away. - - - -VI - -The next morning I did not go on the Common; I was anxious to avoid -a meeting with the Harrison idiot. I had been debating whether I -should drive him away if I met him. Obviously I had no more right -on the Common than he had--on the other hand, he was a nuisance, -and I did not see why I should allow him to spoil all my pleasure -in that ideal stretch of wild land which pressed on three sides of -the Wood Farm. It was a stupid quandary of my own making; but I am -afraid it was rather typical of my mental attitude. I am prone to set -myself tasks, such as this eviction of the idiot from common ground, -and equally prone to avoid them by a process of procrastination. - -By way of evasion I walked over to Deane Hill and surveyed the -wonderful panorama of neat country that fills the basin between the -Hampden and the Quainton Hills. Seen from that height, it has something -the effect of a Dutch landscape, it all looks so amazingly tidy. Away -to the left I looked over Stoke-Underhill. Ailesworth was a blur in the -hollow, but I could distinguish the high fence of the County Ground. - -I sat all the morning on Deane Hill, musing and smoking, thinking of -such things as Ginger Stott, and the match with Surrey. I decided that -I must certainly go and see Stott's queer son, the phenomenon who had, -they say, read all the books in Mr. Challis's library. I wondered -what sort of a library this Challis had, and who he was. I had never -heard of him before. I think I must have gone to sleep for a time. - -When Mrs. Berridge came to clear away my dinner--I dined, without -shame, at half-past twelve--I detained her with conversation. Presently -I asked about little Stott. - -"He's a queer one, that's what he is," said Mrs. Berridge. She was -a neat, comely little woman, rather superior to her station, and it -seemed to me, certainly superior to her clod of a husband. - -"A great reader, Farmer Bates tells me," I said. - -Mrs. Berridge passed that by. "His mother's in trouble about him -this morning," she said. "She's such a nice, respectable woman, and -has all her milk and eggs and butter off of us. She was here this -morning while you were out, sir, and, what I could make of it that -'Arrison boy had been chasing her boy on the Common last night." - -"Oh!" I said with sudden enlightenment. "I believe I saw them." At -the back of my mind I was struggling desperately with a vague -remembrance. It may sound incredible, but I had only the dimmest -memory of my later experience of the child. The train incident was -still fresh in my mind, but I could not remember what Stott had told -me when I talked with him by the pond. I seemed to have an impression -that the child had some strange power of keeping people at a distance; -or was I mixing up reality with some Scandinavian fairy tale? - -"Very likely, sir," Mrs. Berridge went on. "What upset Mrs. Stott -was that her boy's never upset by anything--he has a curious way -of looking at you, sir, that makes you wish you wasn't there; but -from what Mrs. Stott says, this 'Arrison boy wasn't to be drove off, -anyhow, and her son came in quite flurried like. Mrs. Stott seemed -quite put out about it." - -Doubtless I might have had more information from my landlady, but I -was struggling to reconstruct that old experience which had slipped -away from me, and I turned back to the book I had been pretending to -read. Mrs. Berridge was one of those unusual women--for her station -in life--who know when to be silent, and she finished her clearing -away without initiating any further remarks. - -When she had finished I went out on to the Common and looked for the -pond where I had talked with Ginger Stott. - -I found it after a time, and then I began to gather up the threads -I had dropped. - -It all came back to me, little by little. I remembered that talk I -had had with him, his very gestures; I remembered how he had spoken of -habits, or the necessity for the lack of them, and that took me back -to the scene in the British Museum Reading-Room, and to my theory. I -was suddenly alive to that old interest again. - -I got up and walked eagerly in the direction of Mrs. Stott's cottage. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE INCIPIENCE OF MY SUBJECTION TO THE WONDER - - -I - -Victor Stott was in his eighth year when I met him for the third -time. I must have stayed longer than I imagined by the pond on -the Common, for Mrs. Stott and her son had had tea, and the boy was -preparing to go out. He stopped when he saw me coming; an unprecedented -mark of recognition, so I have since learned. - -As I saw him then, he made a remarkable, but not a repulsively abnormal -figure. His baldness struck one immediately, but it did not give him -a look of age. Then one noticed that his head was unmistakably out -of proportion to his body, yet the disproportion was not nearly so -marked as it had been in infancy. These two things were conspicuous; -the less salient peculiarities were observed later; the curious -little beaky nose that jutted out at an unusual angle from the face, -the lips that were too straight and determined for a child, the laxity -of the limbs when the body was in repose--lastly, the eyes. - -When I met Victor Stott on this, third, occasion, there can be no -doubt that he had lost something of his original power. This may -have been due to his long sojourn in the world of books, a sojourn -that had, perhaps, altered the strange individuality of his thought; -or it may have been due, in part at least, to his recent recognition -of the fact that the power of his gaze exercised no influence over -creatures such as the Harrison idiot. Nevertheless, though something -of the original force had abated, he still had an extraordinary, and, -so far as I can learn, altogether unprecedented power of enforcing -his will without word or gesture; and I may say here that in those -rare moments when Victor Stott looked me in the face, I seemed to see -a rare and wonderful personality peering out through his eyes. That -was the personality which had, no doubt, spoken to Challis and Lewes -through that long afternoon in the library of Challis Court. Normally -one saw a curious, unattractive, rather repulsive figure of a child; -when he looked at one with that rare look of intention, the man that -lived within that unattractive body was revealed, his insight, his -profundity, his unexampled wisdom. If we mark the difference between -man and animals by a measure of intelligence, then surely this child -was a very god among men. - - - -II - -Victor Stott did not look at me when I entered his mother's cottage; -I saw only the unattractive exterior of him, and I blundered into an -air of patronage. - -"Is this your boy?" I said, when I had greeted her. "I hear he is a -great scholar." - -"Yes, sir," replied Ellen Mary quietly. She never boasted to strangers. - -"You don't remember me, I suppose?" I went on, foolishly; trying, -however, to speak as to an equal. "You were in petticoats the last -time I saw you." - -The Wonder was standing by the window, his arms hanging loosely at -his sides; he looked out aslant up the lane; his profile was turned -towards me. He made no answer to my question. - -"Oh yes, sir, he remembers," replied Ellen Mary. "He never forgets -anything." - -I paused, uncomfortably. I was slightly huffed by the boy's silence. - -"I have come to spend the summer here," I said at last. "I hope -he will come to see me. I have brought a good many books with me; -perhaps he might care to read some of them." - -I had to talk at the boy; there was no alternative. Inwardly I was -thinking that I had Kant's Critique and Hegel's Phenomenology among -my books. "He may put on airs of scholarship," I thought; "but I -fancy that he will find those two works rather above the level of -his comprehension as yet." I did not recognise the fact that it was -I who was putting on airs, not Victor Stott. - -"'E's given up reading the past six weeks, sir," said Ellen Mary, -"but I daresay he will come and see your books." - -She spoke demurely, and she did not look at her son; I received -the impression that her statements were laid before him to take up, -reject, or pass unnoticed as he pleased. - -I was slightly exasperated. I turned to the Wonder. "Would you care -to come?" I asked. - -He nodded without looking at me, and walked out of the cottage. - -I hesitated. - -"'E'll go with you now, sir," prompted Ellen Mary. "That's what -'e means." - -I followed the Wonder in a condition of suppressed irritation. "His -mother might be able to interpret his rudeness," I thought, "but I -would teach him to convey his intentions more clearly. The child had -been spoilt." - - - -III - -The Wonder chose the road over the Common. I should have gone by -the wood, but when we came to the entrance of the wood, he turned up -on to the Common. He did not ask me which way I preferred. Indeed, -we neither of us spoke during the half-mile walk that separated the -Wood Farm from the last cottage in Pym. - -I was fuming inwardly. I had it in my mind at that time to put the -Wonder through some sort of an examination. I was making plans to -contribute towards his education, to send him to Oxford, later. I -had adumbrated a scheme to arouse interest in his case among certain -scholars and men of influence with whom I was slightly acquainted. I -had been very much engrossed with these plans as I had made my way -to the Stotts' cottage. I was still somewhat exalted in mind with -my dreams of a vicarious brilliance. I had pictured the Wonder's -magnificent passage though the University; I had acted, in thought, as -the generous and kindly benefactor.... It had been a grandiose dream, -and the reality was so humiliating. Could I make this mannerless -child understand his possibilities? Had he any ambition? - -Thinking of these things, I had lagged behind as we crossed the -Common, and when I came to the gate of the farmyard, the Wonder was -at the door of the house. He did not wait for me, but walked straight -into my sitting-room. When I entered, I found him seated on the low -window-sill, turning over the top layer of books in the large case -which had been opened, but not unpacked. There was no place to put -the books; in fact, I was proposing to have some shelves put up, -if Mrs. Berridge had no objection. - -I entered the room in a condition of warm indignation. "Cheek" was the -word that was in my mind. "Confounded cheek," I muttered. Nevertheless -I did not interrupt the boy; instead, I lit a cigarette, sat down -and watched him. - -I was sceptical at first. I noted at once the sure touch with which -the boy handled my books, the practised hand that turned the pages, -the quick examination of title-page and the list of contents, -the occasional swift reference to the index, but I did not believe -it possible that any one could read so fast as he read when he did -condescend for a few moments to give his attention to a few consecutive -pages. "Was it a pose?" I thought, yet he was certainly an adept in -handling the books. I was puzzled, yet I was still sceptical--the habit -of experience was towards disbelief--a boy of seven and a half could -not possibly have the mental equipment to skim all that philosophy.... - -My books were being unpacked very quickly. Kant, Hegel, Schelling, -Fichte, Leibnitz, Nietzsche, Hume, Bradley, William James had all -been rejected and were piled on the floor, but he had hesitated longer -over Bergson's Creative Evolution. He really seemed to be giving that -some attention, though he read it--if he were reading it--so fast that -the hand which turned the pages hardly rested between each movement. - -When Bergson was sent to join his predecessors, I determined that I -would get some word out of this strange child--I had never yet heard -him speak, not a single syllable. I determined to brave all rebuffs. I -was prepared for that. - -"Well?" I said, when Bergson was laid down. "Well! What do you make -of that?" - -He turned and looked out of the window. - -I came and sat on the end of the table within a few feet of him. From -that position I, too, could see out of the window, and I saw the -figure of the Harrison idiot slouching over the farmyard gate. - -A gust of impatience whirled over me. I caught up my stick and went -out quickly. - -"Now then," I said, as I came within speaking distance of the idiot, -"get away from here. Out with you!" - -The idiot probably understood no word of what I said, but like a dog -he was quick to interpret my tone and gesture. He made a revoltingly -inhuman sound as he shambled away, a kind of throaty yelp. I walked -back to the house. I could not avoid the feeling that I had been -unnecessarily brutal. - -When I returned the Wonder was still staring out of the window; but -though I did not guess it then, the idiot had served my purpose better -than my determination. It was to the idiot that I owed my subsequent -knowledge of Victor Stott. The Wonder had found a use for me. He was -resigned to bear with my feeble mental development, because I was -strong enough to keep at bay that half-animal creature who appeared -to believe that Victor Stott was one of his own kind--the only one -he had ever met. The idiot in some unimaginable way had inferred -a likeness between himself and the Wonder--they both had enormous -heads--and the idiot was the only human being over whom the Wonder -was never able to exercise the least authority. - - - -IV - -I went in and sat down again on the end of the table. I was rather -heated. I lit another cigarette and stared at the Wonder, who was -still looking out of the window. - -There was silence for a few seconds, and then he spoke of his own -initiative. - -"Illustrates the weakness of argument from history and analogy," he -said in a clear, small voice, addressing no one in particular. "Hegel's -limitations are qualitatively those of Harrison, who argues that I -and he are similar in kind." - -The proposition was so astounding that I could find no answer -immediately. If the statement had been made in boyish language I -should have laughed at it, but the phraseology impressed me. - -"You've read Hegel, then?" I asked evasively. - -"Subtract the endeavour to demonstrate a preconceived hypothesis -from any known philosophy," continued the Wonder, without heeding my -question, "and the remainder, the only valuable material, is found -to be distorted." He paused as if waiting for my reply. - -How could one answer such propositions as these offhand? I tried, -however, to get at the gist of the sentence, and, as the silence -continued, I said with some hesitation: "But it is impossible, -surely, to approach the work of writing, say a philosophy, without -some apprehension of the end in view?" - -"Illogical," replied the Wonder, "not philosophy; a system of trial -and error--to evaluate a complex variable function." He paused a -moment, and then glanced down at the pile of books on the floor. "More -millions," he said. - -I think he meant that more millions of books might be written on this -system without arriving at an answer to the problem, but I admit -that I am at a loss, that I cannot interpret his remarks. I wrote -them down within an hour or two after they were uttered, but I may -have made mistakes. The mathematical metaphor is beyond me. I have -no acquaintance with higher mathematics. - -The Wonder had a very expressionless face, but I thought at this -moment that he wore a look of sadness; and that look was one of the -factors which helped me to understand the unbridgeable gulf that lay -between his intellect and mine. I think it was at this moment that -I first began to change my opinion. I had been regarding him as an -unbearable little prig, but it flashed across me as I watched him now, -that his mind and my own might be so far differentiated that he was -unable to convey his thoughts to me. "Was it possible," I wondered, -"that he had been trying to talk down to my level?" - -"I am afraid I don't quite follow you," I said. I had intended to -question him further, to urge him to explain, but it came to me -that it would be quite hopeless to go on. How can one answer the -unreasoning questions of a child? Here I was the child, though a -child of slightly advanced development. I could appreciate that it was -useless to persist in a futile "Why, why?" when the answer could only -be given in terms that I could not comprehend. Therefore I hesitated, -sighed, and then with that obstinacy of vanity which creates an image -of self-perfection and refuses to relinquish it, I said: - -"I wish you could explain yourself; not on this particular point of -philosophy, but your life----" I stopped, because I did not know how -to phrase my demand. What was it, after all, that I wanted to learn? - -"That I can't explain," said the Wonder. "There are no data." - -I saw that he had accepted my request for explanation in a much wider -sense than I had intended, and I took him up on this. - -"But haven't you any hypothesis?" - -"I cannot work on the system of trial and error," replied the Wonder. - -Our conversation went no further this afternoon, for Mrs. Berridge -came in to lay the cloth. She looked askance, I thought, at the figure -on the window-sill, but she ventured no remark save to ask if I was -ready for my supper. - -"Yes, oh! yes!" I said. - -"Shall I lay for two, sir?" asked Mrs. Berridge. - -"Will you stay and have supper?" I said to the Wonder, but he shook -his head, got up and walked out of the room. I watched him cross the -farmyard and make his way over the Common. - -"Well!" I said to Mrs. Berridge, when the boy was out of sight, -"that child is what in America they call 'the limit,' Mrs. Berridge." - -My landlady put her lips together, shook her head, and shivered -slightly. "He gives me the shudders," she said. - - - -V - -I neither read nor wrote that evening. I forgot to go out for a -walk at sunset. I sat and pondered until it was time for bed, and -then I pondered myself to sleep. No vision came to me, and I had no -relevant dreams. - -The next morning at seven o'clock I saw Mrs. Stott come over the Common -to fetch her milk from the farm. I waited until her business was done, -and then I went out and walked back with her. - -"I want to understand about your son," I said by way of making -an opening. - -She looked at me quickly. "You know, 'e 'ardly ever speaks to me, -sir," she said. - -I was staggered for a moment. "But you understand him?" I said. - -"In some ways, sir," was her answer. - -I recognised the direction of the limitation. "Ah! we none of us -understand him in all ways," I said, with a touch of patronage. - -"No, sir," replied Ellen Mary. She evidently agreed to that statement -without qualification. - -"But what is he going to do?" I asked. "When he grows up, I mean?" - -"I can't say, sir. We must leave that to 'im." - -I accepted the rebuke more mildly than I should have done on the -previous day. "He never speaks of his future?" I said feebly. - -"No, sir." - -There seemed to be nothing more to say. We had only gone a couple -of hundred yards, but I paused in my walk. I thought I might as well -go back and get my breakfast. But Mrs. Stott looked at me as though -she had something more to say. We stood facing each other on the -cart track. - -"I suppose I can't be of any use?" I asked vaguely. - -Ellen Mary broke suddenly into volubility. - -"I 'ope I'm not askin' too much, sir," she said, "but there is a way -you could 'elp if you would. 'E 'ardly ever speaks to me, as I've -said, but I've been opset about that 'Arrison boy. 'E's a brute -beast, sir, if you know what I mean, and 'e" (she differentiated -her pronouns only by accent, and where there is any doubt I have -used italics to indicate that her son is referred to) "doesn't seem -to 'ave the same 'old on 'im as 'e does over others. It's truth, -I am not easy in my mind about it, sir, although 'e 'as never said -a word to me, not being afraid of anything like other children, but -'e seems to have took a sort of a fancy to you, sir" (I think this -was intended as the subtlest flattery), "and if you was to go with -'im when 'e takes 'is walks--'e's much in the air, sir, and a great -one for walkin'--I think 'e'd be glad of your cump'ny, though maybe -'e won't never say it in so many words. You mustn't mind 'im being -silent, sir; there's some things we can't understand, and though, -as I say, 'e 'asn't said anything to me, it's not that I'm scheming -be'ind 'is back, for I know 'is meaning without words being necessary." - -She might have said more, but I interrupted her at this -point. "Certainly, I will come and fetch him,"--I lapsed unconsciously -into her system of denomination--"this morning, if you are sure he -would like to come out with me." - -"I'm quite sure, sir," she said. - -"About nine o'clock?" I asked. - -"That would do nicely, sir," she answered. - -As I walked back to the farm I was thinking of the life of those two -occupants of the Stotts' cottage. The mother who watched her son in -silence, studying his every look and action in order to gather his -meaning; who never asked her son a question nor expected from him -any statement of opinion; and the son wrapped always in that profound -speculation which seemed to be his only mood. What a household! - -It struck me while I was having breakfast that I seemed to have let -myself in for a duty that might prove anything but pleasant. - - - -VI - -There is nothing to say of that first walk of mine with the Wonder. I -spoke to him once or twice and he answered by nodding his head; -even this notice I now know to have been a special mark of favour, -a condescension to acknowledge his use for me as a guardian. He did -not speak at all on this occasion. - -I did not call for him in the afternoon; I had made other plans. I -wanted to see the man Challis, whose library had been at the disposal -of this phenomenal child. Challis might be able to give me further -information. The truth of the matter is that I was in two minds as to -whether I would stay at Pym through the summer, as I had originally -intended. I was not in love with the prospect which the sojourn now -held out for me. If I were to be constituted head nursemaid to Master -Victor Stott, there would remain insufficient time for the progress of -my own book on certain aspects of the growth of the philosophic method. - -I see now, when I look back, that I was not convinced at that time, -that I still doubted the Wonder's learning. I may have classed it as -a freakish pedantry, the result of a phenomenal memory. - -Mrs. Berridge had much information to impart on the subject of Henry -Challis. He was her husband's landlord, of course, and his was a -hallowed name, to be spoken with decency and respect. I am afraid -I shocked Mrs. Berridge at the outset by my casual "Who's this man -Challis?" She certainly atoned by her own manner for my irreverence; -she very obviously tried to impress me. I professed submission, -but was not intimidated, rather my curiosity was aroused. - -Mrs. Berridge was not able to tell me the one thing I most desired -to know, whether the lord of Challis Court was in residence; but it -was not far to walk, and I set out about two o'clock. - - - -VII - -Challis was getting into his motor as I walked up the drive. I hurried -forward to catch him before the machine was started. He saw me coming -and paused on the doorstep. - -"Did you want to see me?" he asked, as I came up. - -"Mr. Challis?" I asked. - -"Yes," he said. - -"I won't keep you now," I said, "but perhaps you could let me know -some time when I could see you." - -"Oh, yes," he said, with the air of a man who is constantly subjected -to annoyance by strangers. "But perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me -what it is you wish to see me about? I might be able to settle it now, -at once." - -"I am staying at the Wood Farm," I began. "I am interested in a very -remarkable child----" - -"Ah! take my advice, leave him alone," interrupted Challis quickly. - -I suppose I looked my amazement, for Challis laughed. "Oh, well," he -said, "of course you won't take such spontaneous advice as that. I'm -in no hurry. Come in." He took off his heavy overcoat and threw it into -the tonneau. "Come round again in an hour," he said to the chauffeur. - -"It's very good of you," I protested, "I could come quite well at -any other time." - -"I'm in no hurry," he repeated. "You had better come to the scene -of Victor Stott's operations. He hasn't been here for six weeks, -by the way. Can you throw any light on his absence?" - -I made a friend that afternoon. When the car came back at four o'clock, -Challis sent it away again. "I shall probably stay down here to-night," -he said to the butler, and to me: "Can you stay to dinner? I must -convince you about this child." - -"I have dined once to-day," I said. "At half-past twelve. I have no -other excuse." - -"Oh! well," said Challis, "you needn't eat, but I must. Get us -something, Heathcote," he said to the butler, "and bring tea here." - -Much of our conversation after dinner was not relevant to the subject -of the Wonder; we drifted into a long argument upon human origins -which has no place here. But by that time I had been very well -informed as to all the essential facts of the Wonder's childhood, -of his entry into the world of books, of his earlier methods, and -of the significance of that long speech in the library. But at that -point Challis became reserved. He would give me no details. - -"You must forgive me; I can't go into that," he said. - -"But it is so incomparably important," I protested. - -"That may be, but you must not question me. The truth of the matter -is that I have a very confused memory of what the boy said, and the -little I might remember, I prefer to leave undisturbed." - -He piqued my curiosity, but I did not press him. It was so evident -that he did not wish to speak on that head. - -He walked up with me to the farm at ten o'clock and came into my room. - -"We need not keep you out of bed, Mrs. Berridge," he said to my -flustered landlady. "I daresay we shall be up till all hours. We -promise to see that the house is locked up." Mr. Berridge stood a -figure of subservience in the background. - -My books were still heaped on the floor. Challis sat down on the -window-sill and looked over some of them. "Many of these Master Stott -probably read in my library" he remarked, "in German. Language is -no bar to him. He learns a language as you or I would learn a page -of history." - -Later on, I remember that we came down to essentials. "I must try and -understand something of this child's capacities," I said in answer to -a hint of Challis's that I should leave the Wonder alone. "It seems -to me that here we have something which is of the first importance, -of greater importance, indeed, than anything else in the history of -the world." - -"But you can't make him speak," said Challis. - -"I shall try," I said. "I recognise that we cannot compel him, but I -have a certain hold over him. I see from what you have told me that he -has treated me with most unusual courtesy. I assure you that several -times when I spoke to him this morning he nodded his head." - -"A good beginning," laughed Challis. - -"I can't understand," I went on, "how it is that you are not more -interested. It seems to me that this child knows many things which -we have been patiently attempting to discover since the dawn of -civilisation." - -"Quite," said Challis. "I admit that, but ... well, I don't think I -want to know." - -"Surely," I said, "this key to all knowledge----" - -"We are not ready for it," replied Challis. "You can't teach -metaphysics to children." - -Nevertheless my ardour was increased, not abated, by my long talk -with Challis. - -"I shall go on," I said, as I went out to the farm gate with him at -half-past two in the morning. - -"Ah! well," he answered, "I shall come over and see you when I come -back." He had told me earlier that he was going abroad for some months. - -We hesitated a moment by the gate, and instinctively we both looked -up at the vault of the sky and the glimmering dust of stars. - -The same thought was probably in both our minds, the thought of -the insignificance of this little system that revolves round one of -the lesser lights of the Milky Way, but that thought was not to be -expressed save by some banality, and we did not speak. - -"I shall certainly look you up when I come back," said Challis. - -"Yes; I hope you will," I said lamely. - -I watched the loom of his figure against the vague background till -I could distinguish it no longer. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE PROGRESS AND RELAXATION OF MY SUBJECTION - - -I - -The memory of last summer is presented to me now as a series of -pictures, some brilliant, others vague, others again so uncertain that -I cannot be sure how far they are true memories of actual occurrences, -and how far they are interwoven with my thoughts and dreams. I have, -for instance, a recollection of standing on Deane Hill and looking -down over the wide panorama of rural England, through a driving mist -of fine rain. This might well be counted among true memories, were -it not for the fact that clearly associated with the picture is an -image of myself grown to enormous dimensions, a Brocken spectre that -threatened the world with titanic gestures of denouncement, and I -seem to remember that this figure was saying: "All life runs through -my fingers like a handful of dry sand." And yet the remembrance has -not the quality of a dream. - -I was, undoubtedly, overwrought at times. There were days when the -sight of a book filled me with physical nausea, with contempt for the -littleness, the narrow outlook, that seemed to me to characterise -every written work. I was fiercely, but quite impotently, eager at -such times to demonstrate the futility of all the philosophy ranged -on the rough wooden shelves in my gloomy sitting-room. I would walk -up and down and gesticulate, struggling, fighting to make clear -to myself what a true philosophy should set forth. I felt at such -times that all the knowledge I needed for so stupendous a task was -present with me in some inexplicable way, was even pressing upon -me, but that my brain was so clogged and heavy that not one idea of -all that priceless wisdom could be expressed in clear thought. "I -have never been taught to think," I would complain, "I have never -perfected the machinery of thought," and then some dictum thrown out -haphazard by the Wonder--his conception of light conversation--would -recur to me, and I would realise that however well I had been trained, -my limitations would remain, that I was an undeveloped animal, only -one stage higher than a totem-fearing savage, a creature of small -possibilities, incapable of dealing with great problems. - -Once the Wonder said to me, in a rare moment of lucid condescension to -my feeble intellect, "You figure space as a void in three dimensions, -and time as a line that runs across it, and all other conceptions -you relegate to that measure." He implied that this was a cumbrous -machinery which had no relation to reality, and could define -nothing. He told me that his idea of force, for example, was a pure -abstraction, for which there was no figure in my mental outfit. - -Such pronouncements as these left me struggling like a drowning -man in deep water. I felt that it must be possible for me to come -to the surface, but I could do nothing but flounder; beat fiercely -with limbs that were so powerful and yet so utterly useless. I saw -that my very metaphors symbolised my feebleness; I had no terms for -my own mental condition; I was forced to resort to some inapplicable -physical analogy. - -These fits of revolt against the limitations of human thought grew more -frequent as the summer progressed. Day after day my self-sufficiency -and conceit were being crushed out of me. I was always in the society -of a boy of seven whom I was forced to regard as immeasurably my -intellectual superior. There was no department of useful knowledge -in which I could compete with him. Compete indeed! I might as well -speak of a third-standard child competing with Macaulay in a general -knowledge paper. - -"Useful knowledge," I have written, but the phrase needs definition. I -might have taught the Wonder many things, no doubt; the habits of men -in great cities, the aspects of foreign countries, or the subtleties -of cricket; but when I was with him I felt--and my feelings must have -been typical--that such things as these were of no account. - -Towards the end of the summer, the occasions upon which I was able -to stimulate myself into a condition of bearable complacency were -very rare. I often thought of Challis's advice to leave the Wonder -alone. I should have gone away if I had been free, but Victor Stott -had a use for me, and I was powerless to disobey him. I feared him, -but he controlled me at his will. I feared him as I had once feared -an imaginary God, but I did not hate him. - -One curious little fragment of wisdom came to me as the result of -my experience--a useless fragment perhaps, but something that has -in one way altered my opinion of my fellow-men. I have learnt that -a measure of self-pride, of complacency, is essential to every human -being. I judge no man any more for displaying an overweening vanity, -rather do I envy him this representative mark of his humanity. The -Wonder was completely and quite inimitably devoid of any conceit, -and the word ambition had no meaning for him. It was inconceivable -that he should compare himself with any of his fellow-creatures, -and it was inconceivable that any honour they might have lavished -upon him would have given him one moment's pleasure. He was entirely -alone among aliens who were unable to comprehend him, aliens who -could not flatter him, whose opinions were valueless to him. He had -no more common ground on which to air his knowledge, no more grounds -for comparison by which to achieve self-conceit than a man might have -in a world tenanted only by sheep. From what I have heard him say on -the subject of our slavery to preconceptions, I think the metaphor -of sheep is one which he might have approved. - -But the result of all this, so far as I am concerned, is a feeling of -admiration for those men who are capable of such magnificent approval -for themselves, the causes they espouse, their family, their country, -and their species; it is an approval which I fear I can never again -attain in full measure. - -I have seen possibilities which have enforced a humbleness that is not -good for my happiness or conducive to my development. Henceforward I -will espouse the cause of vanity. It is only the vain who deprecate -vanity in others. - -But there were times in the early period of my association with Victor -Stott when I rebelled vigorously against his complacent assumption -of my ignorance. - - - -II - -May was a gloriously fine month, and we were much out of -doors. Unfortunately, except for one fortnight in August, that was -all the settled weather we had that summer. - -I remember sitting one afternoon staring at the same pond that Ginger -Stott had stared at when he told me that the boy now beside me was a -"blarsted freak." - -The Wonder had said nothing that day, but now he began to enunciate -some of his incomprehensible commonplaces in that thin, clear voice -of his. I wrote down what I could remember of his utterances when I -went home, but now I read them over again I am exceedingly doubtful -whether I reported him correctly. There is, however, one dictum which -seems clearly phrased, and when I recall the scene, I remember trying -to push the induction he had started. The pronouncement, as I have -it written, is as follows: - -"Pure deduction from a single premise, unaided by previous knowledge -of the functions of the terms used in the expansion of the argument, -is an act of creation, incontrovertible, and outside the scope of -human reasoning." - -I believe he meant to say--but my notes are horribly confused--that -logic and philosophy were only relative, being dependent always in -a greater or less degree upon the test of a material experiment for -verification. - -Here, as always, I find the Wonder's pronouncements very elusive. In -one sense I see that what I have quoted here is a self-evident -proposition, but I have the feeling that behind it there lies some -gleam of wisdom which throws a faint light on the profound problem -of existence. - -I remember that in my own feeble way I tried to analyse this statement, -and for a time I thought I had grasped one significant aspect of it. It -seemed to me that the possibility of conceiving a philosophy that was -not dependent for verification upon material experiment--that is to -say, upon evidence afforded by the five senses--indicates that there -is something which is not matter; but that since the development of -such a philosophy is not possible to our minds, we must argue that -our dependence upon matter is so intimate that it is almost impossible -to conceive that we are actuated by any impulse which does not arise -out of a material complex. - -At the back of my mind there seemed to be a thought that I could -not focus, I trembled on the verge of some great revelation that -never came. - -Through my thoughts there ran a thread of reverence for the -intelligence that had started my speculations. If only he could speak -in terms that I could understand. - -I looked round at the Wonder. He was, as usual, apparently lost in -abstraction, and quite unconscious of my regard. - -The wind was strong on the Common, and he sniffed once or twice and -then wiped his nose. He did not use a handkerchief. - -It came to me at the moment that he was no more than a vulgar little -village boy. - - - -III - -There were few incidents to mark the progress of that summer. I marked -the course of time by my own thoughts and feelings, especially by my -growing submission to the control of the Wonder. - -It was curious to recall that I had once thought of correcting the -Wonder's manners, of administering, perhaps, a smacking. That was -a fault of ignorance. I had often erred in the same way in other -experiences of life, but I had not taken the lesson to heart. I -remember at school our "head" taking us--I was in the lower fifth -then--in Latin verse. He rebuked me for a false quantity, and I, -very cocksure, disputed the point and read my line. The head pointed -out very gravely that I had been misled by an English analogy in my -pronunciation of the word "maritus," and I grew very hot and ashamed -and apologetic. I feel much the same now when I think of my early -attitude towards the Wonder. But this time, I think, I have profited -by my experience. - -There is, however, one incident which in the light of subsequent -events it seems worth while to record. - -One afternoon in early July, when the sky had lifted sufficiently -for us to attempt some sort of a walk, we made our way down through -the sodden woods in the direction of Deane Hill. - -As we were emerging into the lane at the foot of the slope, I saw the -Harrison idiot lurking behind the trunk of a big beech. This was only -the third time I had seen him since I drove him away from the farm, -and on the two previous occasions he had not come close to us. - -This time he had screwed up his courage to follow us. As we climbed -the lane I saw him slouching up the hedge-side behind us. - -The Wonder took no notice, and we continued our way in silence. - -When we reached the prospect at the end of the hill, where the ground -falls away like a cliff and you have a bird's-eye view of two counties, -we sat down on the steps of the monument erected in honour of those -Hampdenshire men whose lives were thrown away in the South-African war. - -That view always has a soothing effect upon me, and I gave myself -up to an ecstasy of contemplation and forgot, for a few moments, the -presence of the Wonder, and the fact that the idiot had followed us. - -I was recalled to existence by the sound of a foolish, conciliatory -mumbling, and looked round to see the leering face of the Harrison -idiot ogling the Wonder from the corner of the plinth. The Wonder was -between me and the idiot, but he was apparently oblivious of either -of us. - -I was about to rise and drive the idiot away, but the Wonder, still -staring out at some distant horizon, said quietly, "Let him be." - -I was astonished, but I sat still and awaited events. - -The idiot behaved much as I have seen a very young and nervous -puppy behave. - -He came within a few feet of us, gurgling and crooning, flapping his -hands and waggling his great head; his uneasy eyes wandered from the -Wonder to me and back again, but it was plainly the Wonder whom he -wished to propitiate. Then he suddenly backed as if he had dared -too much, flopped on to the wet grass and regarded us both with -foolish, goggling eyes. For a few seconds he lay still, and then he -began to squirm along the ground towards us, a few inches at a time, -stopping every now and again to bleat and gurgle with that curious, -crooning note which he appeared to think would pacificate the object -of his overtures. - -I stood by, as it were, ready to obey the first hint that the presence -of this horrible creature was distasteful to the Wonder, but he gave -no sign. - -The idiot had come within five or six feet of us, wriggling himself -along the wet grass, before the Wonder looked at him. The look when -it came was one of those deliberate, intentional stares which made -one feel so contemptible and insignificant. - -The idiot evidently regarded this look as a sign of encouragement. He -knelt up, began to flap his hands and changed his crooning note to -a pleased, emphatic bleat. - -"A-ba-ba," he blattered, and made uncouth gestures, by which I think he -meant to signify that he wanted the Wonder to come and play with him. - -Still the Wonder gave no sign, but his gaze never wavered, and though -the idiot was plainly not intimidated, he never met that gaze for -more than a second or two. Nevertheless he came on, walking now on -his knees, and at last stretched out a hand to touch the boy he so -curiously desired for a playmate. - -That broke the spell. The Wonder drew back quickly--he never allowed -one to touch him--got up and climbed two or three steps higher up -the base of the monument. "Send him away," he said to me. - -"That'll do," I said threateningly to the idiot, and at the sound of -my voice and the gesture of my hand, he blenched, yelped, rolled over -away from me, and then got to his feet and shambled off for several -yards before stopping to regard us once more with his pacificatory, -disgusting ogle. - -"Send him away," repeated the Wonder, as I hesitated, and I rose to -my feet and pretended to pick up a stone. - -That was enough. The idiot yelped again and made off. This time he -did not stop, though he looked over his shoulder several times as -he lolloped away among the low gorse, to which look I replied always -with the threat of an imaginary stone. - -The Wonder made no comment on the incident as we walked home. He had -shown no sign of fear. It occurred to me that my guardianship of him -was merely a convenience, not a protection from any danger. - - - -IV - -As time went on it became increasingly clear to me that my chance of -obtaining the Wonder's confidence was becoming more and more remote. - -At first he had replied to my questions; usually, it is true, by no -more than an inclination of his head, but he soon ceased to make even -this acknowledgment of my presence. - -So I fell by degrees into a persistent habit of silence, admitted my -submission by obtruding neither remark nor question upon my constant -companion, and gave up my intention of using the Wonder as a means -to gratify my curiosity concerning the problem of existence. - -Once or twice I saw Crashaw at a distance. He undoubtedly recognised -the Wonder, and I think he would have liked to come up and rebuke -him--perhaps me, also; but probably he lacked the courage. He would -hover within sight of us for a few minutes, scowling, and then stalk -away. He gave me the impression of being a dangerous man, a thwarted -fanatic, brooding over his defeat. If I had been Mrs. Stott, I should -have feared the intrusion of Crashaw more than the foolish overtures of -the Harrison idiot. But there was, of course, the Wonder's compelling -power to be reckoned with, in the case of Crashaw. - - - -V - -Challis came back in early September, and it was he who first coaxed, -and then goaded me into rebellion. - -Challis did not come too soon. - -At the end of August I was seeing visions, not pleasant, inspiriting -visions, but the indefinite, perplexing shapes of delirium. - -I think it must have been in August that I stood on Deane Hill, through -an afternoon of fine, driving rain, and had a vision of myself playing -tricks with the sands of life. - -I had begun to lose my hold on reality. Silence, contemplation, -a long-continued wrestle with the profound problems of life, were -combining to break up the intimacy of life and matter, and my brain -was not of the calibre to endure the strain. - -Challis saw at once what ailed me. - -He came up to the farm one morning at twelve o'clock. The date was, -I believe, the twelfth of September. It was a brooding, heavy morning, -with half a gale of wind blowing from the south-west, but it had not -rained, and I was out with the Wonder when Challis arrived. - -He waited for me and talked to the flattered Mrs. Berridge, -remonstrated kindly with her husband for his neglect of the farm, -and incidentally gave him a rebate on the rent. - -When I came in, he insisted that I should come to lunch with him at -Challis Court. - -I consented, but stipulated that I must be back at Pym by three -o'clock to accompany the Wonder for his afternoon walk. - -Challis looked at me curiously, but allowed the stipulation. - -We hardly spoke as we walked down the hill--the habit of silence had -grown upon me, but after lunch Challis spoke out his mind. - -On that occasion I hardly listened to him, but he came up to the -farm again after tea and marched me off to dinner at the Court. I -was strangely plastic when commanded, but when he suggested that I -should give up my walks with the Wonder, go away.... I smiled and said -"Impossible," as though that ended the matter. - -Challis, however, persisted, and I suppose I was not too far gone to -listen to him. I remember his saying: "That problem is not for you -or me or any man living to solve by introspection. Our work is to add -knowledge little by little, data here and there, for future evidence." - -The phrase struck me, because the Wonder had once said "There are no -data," when in the early days I had asked him whether he could say -definitely if there was any future existence possible for us? - -Now Challis put it to me that our work was to find data, that -every little item of real knowledge added to the feeble store man -has accumulated in his few thousand years of life, was a step, the -greatest step any man could possibly make. - -"But could we not get, not a small but a very important item, from -Victor Stott?" - -Challis shook his head. "He is too many thousands of years ahead of -us," he said. "We can only bridge the gap by many centuries of patient -toil. If a revelation were made to us, we should not understand it." - -So, by degrees, Challis's influence took possession of me and roused -me to self-assertion. - -One morning, half in dread, I stayed at home and read a novel--no other -reading could hold my attention--philosophy had become nauseating. - -I expected to see the strange little figure of the Wonder come across -the Common, but he never came, nor did I receive any reproach from -Ellen Mary. I think she had forgotten her fear of the Harrison idiot. - -Nevertheless, I did not give up my guardianship all at once. Three -times after that morning I took the Wonder for a walk. He made no -allusion to my defalcations. Indeed he never spoke. He relinquished -me as he had taken me up, without comment or any expression of feeling. - - - -VI - -On the twenty-ninth of September I went down to Challis Court and -stayed there for a week. Then I returned for a few days to Wood Farm -in order to put my things together and pack my books. I had decided -to go to Cairo for the winter with Challis. - -At half-past one o'clock on Thursday, the eighth of October, I was in -the sitting-room, when I saw the figure of Mrs. Stott coming across -the Common. She came with a little stumbling run. I could see that -she was agitated even before she reached the farmyard gate. - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -RELEASE - - -I - -She opened the front door without knocking, and came straight into -my sitting-room. - -"'E's not 'ere," she said in a manner that left it doubtful whether -she made an assertion or asked a question. - -"Your son?" I said. I had risen when she came into the room. "No; -I haven't seen him to-day." - -Ellen Mary was staring at me, but it was clear that she neither saw -nor heard me. She had a look of intense concentration. One could see -that she was calculating, thinking, thinking.... - -I went over to her and took her by the arm. I gently shook her. "Now, -tell me what's the matter? What has happened?" I asked. - -She made an effort to collect herself, loosened her arm from my -hold and with an instinctive movement pushed forward the old bonnet, -which had slipped to the back of her head. - -"'E 'asn't been in to 'is dinner," she said hurriedly. "I've been on -the Common looking for 'im." - -"He may have made a mistake in the time," I suggested. - -She made a movement as though to push me on one side, and turned -towards the door. She was calculating again. Her expression said -quite plainly, "Could he be there, could he be there?" - -"Come, come," I said, "there is surely no need to be anxious yet." - -She turned on me. "'E never makes a mistake in the time," she said -fiercely, "'e always knows the time to the minute without clock or -watch. Why did you leave 'im alone?" - -She broke off in her attack upon me and continued: "'E's never been -late before, not a minute, and now it's a hour after 'is time." - -"He may be at home by now," I said. She took the hint instantly and -started back again with the same stumbling little run. - -I picked up my hat and followed her. - - - -II - -The Wonder was not at the cottage. - -"Now, my dear woman, you must keep calm," I said. "There is absolutely -no reason to be disturbed. You had better go to Challis Court and -see if he is in the library, I----" - -"I'm a fool," broke in Ellen Mary with sudden decision, and she set -off again without another word. I followed her back to the Common and -watched her out of sight. I was more disturbed about her than about -the non-appearance of the Wonder. He was well able to take care of -himself, but she.... How strange that with all her calculations she had -not thought of going to Challis Court, to the place where her son had -spent so many days. I began to question whether the whole affair was -not, in some way, a mysterious creation of her own disordered brain. - -Nevertheless, I took upon myself to carry out that part of the -programme which I had not been allowed to state in words to Mrs. Stott, -and set out for Deane Hill. It was just possible that the Wonder might -have slipped down that steep incline and injured himself. Possible, -but very unlikely; the Wonder did not take the risks common to boys -of his age, he did not disport himself on dangerous slopes. - -As I walked I felt a sense of lightness, of relief from depression. I -had not been this way by myself since the end of August. It was good -to be alone and free. - -The day was fine and not cold, though the sun was hidden. I noticed -that the woods showed scarcely a mark of autumn decline. - -There was not a soul to be seen by the monument. I scrambled down the -slope and investigated the base of the hill and came back another way -through the woods. I saw no one. I stopped continually and whistled -loudly. If he is anywhere near at hand, I thought, and in trouble, -he will hear that and answer me. I did not call him by name. I did -not know what name to call. It would have seemed absurd to have called -"Victor." No one ever addressed him by name. - -My return route brought me back to the south edge of the Common, the -point most remote from the farm. There I met a labourer whom I knew -by sight, a man named Hawke. He was carrying a stick, and prodding -with it foolishly among the furze and gorse bushes. The bracken was -already dying down. - -"What are you looking for?" I asked. - -"It's this 'ere Master Stott, sir," he said, looking up. "'E's got -loarst seemingly." - -I felt a sudden stab of self-reproach. I had been taking things too -easily. I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to four. - -"Mr. Challis 'ave told me to look for 'un," added the man, and -continued his aimless prodding of the gorse. - -"Where is Mr. Challis?" I asked. - -"'E's yonder, soomewheres." He made a vague gesture in the direction -of Pym. - -The sun had come out, and the Common was all aglow. I hastened towards -the village. - -On the way I met Farmer Bates and two or three labourers. They, too, -were beating among the gorse and brown bracken. They told me that -Mr. Challis was at the cottage and I hurried on. All the neighbourhood, -it seems, were searching for the Wonder. In the village I saw three -or four women standing with aprons over their heads, talking together. - -I had never seen Pym so animated. - - - -III - -I met Challis in the lane. He was coming away from Mrs. Stott's -cottage. - -"Have you found him?" I asked stupidly. I knew quite well that -the Wonder was not found, and yet I had a fond hope that I might, -nevertheless, be mistaken. - -Challis shook his head. "There will be a mad woman in that cottage -if he doesn't come back by nightfall," he remarked with a jerk of -his head. "I've done what I can for her." - -I explained that I had been over to Deane Hill, searching and calling. - -"You didn't see anything?" asked Challis, echoing my foolish query -of a moment before. I shook my head. - -We were both agitated without doubt. - -We soon came up with Farmer Bates and his men. They stopped and -touched their hats when they saw us, and we put the same silly question -to them. - -"You haven't found him?" We knew perfectly well that they would have -announced the fact at once if they had found him. - -"One of you go over to the Court and get any man you can find to come -and help," said Challis. "Tell Heathcote to send every one." - -One of the labourers touched his cap again, and started off at once -with a lumbering trot. - -Challis and I walked on in silence, looking keenly about us and -stopping every now and then and calling. We called "Hallo! Hallo-o!" It -was an improvement upon my whistle. - -"He's such a little chap," muttered Challis once; "it would be so -easy to miss him if he were unconscious." - -It struck me that the reference to the Wonder was hardly sufficiently -respectful. I had never thought of him as "a little chap." But Challis -had not known him so intimately as I had. - -The shadows were fast creeping over the Common. At the woodside it -was already twilight. The whole of the western sky right up to the -zenith was a finely shaded study in brilliant orange and yellow. "More -rain," I thought instinctively, and paused for a moment to watch -the sunset. The black distance stood clearly silhouetted against -the sky. One could discern the sharp outline of tiny trees on the -distant horizon. - -We met Heathcote and several other men in the lane. - -"Shan't be able to do much to-night, sir," said Heathcote. "It'll be -dark in 'alf an hour, sir." - -"Well, do what you can in half an hour," replied Challis, and to me -he said, "You'd better come back with me. We've done what we can." - -I had a picture of him then as the magnate; I had hardly thought of him -in that light before. The arduous work of the search he could delegate -to his inferiors. Still, he had come out himself, and I doubt not that -he had been altogether charming to the bewildered, distraught mother. - -I acquiesced in his suggestion. I was beginning to feel very tired. - -Mrs. Heathcote was at the gate when we arrived at the Court. "'Ave -they found 'im, sir?" she asked. - -"Not yet," replied Challis. - -I followed him into the house. - - - -IV - -As I walked back at ten o'clock it was raining steadily. I had refused -the offer of a trap. I went through the dark and sodden wood, and -I lingered and listened. The persistent tap, tap, tap of the rain -on the leaves irritated me. How could one hear while that noise -was going on? There was no other sound. There was not a breath of -wind. Only that perpetual tap, tap, tap, patter, patter, drip, tap, -tap. It seemed as if it might go on through eternity.... - -I went to the Stotts' cottage, though I knew there could be no -news. Challis had given strict instructions that any news should be -brought to him immediately. If it was bad news it was to be brought -to him before the mother was told. - -There was a light burning in the cottage, and the door was set -wide open. - -I went up to the door but I did not go in. - -Ellen Mary was sitting in a high chair, her hands clasped together, -and she rocked continually to and fro. She made no sound; she merely -rocked herself with a steady, regular persistence. - -She did not see me standing at the open door, and I moved quietly away. - -As I walked over the Common--I avoided the wood deliberately--I -wondered what was the human limit of endurance. I wondered whether -Ellen Mary had not reached that limit. - -Mrs. Berridge had not gone to bed, and there were some visitors in -the kitchen. I heard them talking. Mrs. Berridge came out when I -opened the front door. - -"Any news, sir?" she asked. - -"No; no news," I said. I had been about to ask her the same question. - - - -V - -I did not go to sleep for some time. I had a picture of Ellen Mary -before my eyes, and I could still hear that steady pat, patter, drip, -of the rain on the beech leaves. - -In the night I awoke suddenly, and thought I heard a long, wailing -cry out on the Common. I got up and looked out of the window, but I -could see nothing. The rain was still falling, but there was a blur -of light that showed where the moon was shining behind the clouds. The -cry, if there had been a cry, was not repeated. - -I went back to bed and soon fell asleep again. - -I do not know whether I had been dreaming, but I woke suddenly with -a presentation of the little pond on the Common very clear before me. - -"We never looked in the pond," I thought, and then--"but he could -not have fallen into the pond; besides, it's not two feet deep." - -It was full daylight, and I got up and found that it was nearly -seven o'clock. - -The rain had stopped, but there was a scurry of low, threatening -cloud that blew up from the south. - -I dressed at once and went out. I made my way directly to the Stotts' -cottage. - -The lamp was still burning and the door open, but Ellen Mary had -fallen forward on to the table; her head was pillowed on her arms. - -"There is a limit to our endurance," I reflected, "and she has -reached it." - -I left her undisturbed. - -Outside I met two of Farmer Bates's labourers going back to work. - -"I want you to come up with me to the pond," I said. - - - -VI - -The pond was very full. - -On the side from which we approached, the ground sloped gradually, -and the water was stretching out far beyond its accustomed limits. - -On the farther side the gorse among the trunks of the three ash-trees -came right to the edge of the bank. On that side the bank was three -or four feet high. - -We came to the edge of the pond, and one of the labourers waded in -a little way--the water was very shallow on that side--but we could -see nothing for the scum of weed, little spangles of dirty green, -and a mass of some other plant that had borne a little white flower -in the earlier part of the year--stuff like dwarf hemlock. - -Under the farther bank, however, I saw one comparatively clear space -of black water. - -"Let's go round," I said, and led the way. - -There was a tiny path which twisted between the gorse roots and came -out at the edge of the farther bank by the stem of the tallest ash. I -had seen tiny village boys pretending to fish from this point with a -stick and a piece of string. There was a dead branch of ash some five -or six feet long, with the twigs partly twisted off; it was lying among -the bushes. I remembered that I had seen small boys using this branch -to clear away the surface weed. I picked it up and took it with me. - -I wound one arm round the trunk of the ash, and peered over into the -water under the bank. - -I caught sight of something white under the water. I could not see -distinctly. I thought it was a piece of broken ware--the bottom of a -basin. I had picked up the ash stick and was going to probe the deeper -water with it. Then I saw that the dim white object was globular. - -The end of my stick was actually in the water. I withdrew it quickly, -and threw it behind me. - -My heart began to throb painfully. - -I turned my face away and leaned against the ash-tree. - -"Can you see anythin'?" asked one of the labourers who had come up -behind me. - -"Oh! Christ!" I said. I turned quickly from the pond and pressed a -way through the gorse. - -I was overwhelmingly and disgustingly sick. - - - -VII - -By degrees the solid earth ceased to wave and sway before me like -a rolling heave of water, and I looked up, pressing my hands to my -head--my hands were as cold as death. - -My clothes were wet and muddy where I had lain on the sodden ground. I -got to my feet and instinctively began to brush at the mud. - -I was still a little giddy, and I swayed and sought for support. - -I could see the back of one labourer. He was kneeling by the ash-tree -bending right down over the water. The other man was standing in the -pond, up to his waist in water and mud. I could just see his head -and shoulders.... - -I staggered away in the direction of the village. - - - -VIII - -I found Ellen Mary still sitting in the same chair. The lamp was -fluttering to extinction, the flame leaping spasmodically, dying -down till it seemed that it had gone out, and then again suddenly -flickering up with little clicking bursts of flame. The air reeked -intolerably of paraffin. - -I blew the lamp out and pushed it on one side. - -There was no need to break the news to Ellen Mary. She had known last -night, and now she was beyond the reach of information. - -She sat upright in her chair and stared out into the immensity. Her -hands alone moved, and they were not still for an instant. They lay -in her lap, and her fingers writhed and picked at her dress. - -I spoke to her once, but I knew that her mind was beyond the reach -of my words. - -"It is just as well," I thought; "but we must get her away." - -I went out and called to the woman next door. - -She was in her kitchen, but the door was open. She came out when -I knocked. - -"Poor thing," she said, when I told her. "It 'as been a shock, no -doubt. She was so wrapped hup in the boy." - -She could hardly have said less if her neighbour had lost half-a-crown. - -"Get her into your cottage before they come," I said harshly, and -left her. - -I wanted to get out of the lane before the men came back, but I had -hardly started before I saw them coming. - -They had made a chair of their arms, and were carrying him between -them. They had not the least fear of him, now. - - - -IX - -The Harrison idiot suddenly jumped out of the hedge. - -I put my hand to my throat. I wanted to cry out, to stop him, but I -could not move. I felt sick again, and utterly weak and powerless, -and I could not take my gaze from that little doll with the great -drooping head that rolled as the men walked. - -I was reminded, disgustingly, of children with a guy. - -The idiot ran shambling down the lane. He knew the two men, who -tolerated him and laughed at him. He was not afraid of them nor -their burden. - -He came right up to them. I heard one of the men say gruffly, "Now -then, you cut along off!" - -I believe the idiot must have touched the dead body. - -I was gripping my throat in my hand; I was trying desperately to -cry out. - -Whether the idiot actually touched the body or not I cannot say, but he -must have realised in his poor, bemused brain that the thing was dead. - -He cried out with his horrible, inhuman cry, turned, and ran up the -lane towards me. He fell on his face a few yards from me, scrambled -wildly to his feet again and came on yelping and shrieking. He was -wildly, horribly afraid. I caught sight of his face as he passed me, -and his mouth was distorted into a square, his upper lip horribly drawn -up over his ragged, yellow teeth. Suddenly he dashed at the hedge and -clawed his way through. I heard him still yelping appallingly as he -rushed away across the field.... - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -IMPLICATIONS - - -I - -The jury returned a verdict of "Accidental death." - -If there had been any traces of a struggle, I had not noticed them -when I came to the edge of the pond. There may have been marks as if -a foot had slipped. I was not thinking of evidence when I looked into -the water. - -There were marks enough when the police came to investigate, but -they were the marks made by a twelve-stone man in hobnail boots, -who had scrambled into, and out of, the pond. As the inspector said, -it was not worth while wasting any time in looking for earlier traces -of footsteps below those marks. - -Nor were there any signs of violence on the body. It was in no way -disfigured, save by the action of the water, in which it had lain -for eighteen hours. - -There was, indeed, only one point of any significance from the jury's -point of view, and that they put on one side, if they considered it -at all; the body was pressed into the mud. - -The Coroner asked a few questions about this fact. - -Was the mud very soft? Yes, very soft, liquid on top. - -How was the body lying? Face downwards. - -What part of the body was deepest in the mud? The chest. The witness -said he had hard work to get the upper part of the body released; the -head was free, but the mud held the rest. "The mooad soocked like," -was the expressive phrase of the witness. - -The Coroner passed on to other things. Had any one a spite against -the child? and such futilities. Only once more did he revert to -that solitary significant fact. "Would it be possible," he asked of -the abashed and self-conscious labourer, "would it be possible for -the body to have worked its way down into the soft mud as you have -described it to have been found?" - -"We-el," said the witness, "'twas in the stacky mooad, 'twas through -the sarft stoof." - -"But this soft mud would suck any solid body down, would it -not?" persisted the Coroner. - -And the witness recalled the case of a duck that had been sucked into -the same soft pond mud the summer before, and cited the instance. He -forgot to add that on that occasion the mud had not been under water. - -The Coroner accepted the instance. There can be no question that both -he and the jury were anxious to accept the easier explanation. - - - -II - -But I know perfectly well that the Wonder did not fall into the pond -by accident. - -I should have known, even if that conclusive evidence with regard to -his being pushed into the mud had never come to light. - -He may have stood by the ash-tree and looked into the water, but -he would never have fallen. He was too perfectly controlled; and, -with all his apparent abstraction, no one was ever more alive to the -detail of his surroundings. He and I have walked together perforce -in many slippery places, but I have never known him to fall or even -begin to lose his balance, whereas I have gone down many times. - -Yes; I know that he was pushed into the pond, and I know that he -was held down in the mud, most probably by the aid of that ash stick -I had held. But it was not for me to throw suspicion on any one at -that inquest, and I preferred to keep my thoughts and my inferences -to myself. I should have done so, even if I had been in possession -of stronger evidence. - -I hope that it was the Harrison idiot who was to blame. He was -not dangerous in the ordinary sense, but he might quite well have -done the thing in play--as he understood it. Only I cannot quite -understand his pushing the body down after it fell. That seems to -argue vindictiveness--and a logic which I can hardly attribute to -the idiot. Still, who can tell what went on in the distorted mind of -that poor creature? He is reported to have rescued the dead body of -a rabbit from the undergrowth on one occasion, and to have blubbered -when he could not bring it back to life. - -There is but one other person who could have been implicated, and I -hesitate to name him in this place. Yet one remembers what terrific -acts of misapplied courage and ferocious brutality the fanatics of -history have been capable of performing when their creed and their -authority have been set at naught. - - - -III - -Ellen Mary never recovered her sanity. She died a few weeks ago in -the County Asylum. I hear that her husband attended the funeral. When -she lost her belief in the supernal wisdom and power of her god, her -world must have fallen about her. The thing she had imagined to be -solid, real, everlasting, had proved to be friable and destructible -like all other human building. - - - -IV - -The Wonder is buried in Chilborough churchyard. - -You may find the place by its proximity to the great marble mausoleum -erected over the remains of Sir Edward Bigg, the well-known brewer -and philanthropist. - -The grave of Victor Stott is marked by a small stone, some six inches -high, which is designed to catch the foot rather than the eye of -the seeker. - -The stone bears the initials "V. S.," and a date--no more. - - - -V - -I saw the Wonder before he was buried. - -I went up into the little bedroom and looked at him in his tiny coffin. - -I was no longer afraid of him. His power over me was dissipated. He -was no greater and no less than any other dead thing. - -It was the same with every one. He had become that "poor little -boy of Mrs. Stott's." No one spoke of him with respect now. No one -seemed to remember that he had been in any way different from other -"poor little fellows" who had died an untimely death. - -One thing did strike me as curious. The idiot, the one person who had -never feared him living, had feared him horribly when he was dead.... - - - - - - - -EPILOGUE - -THE USES OF MYSTERY - - -Something Challis has told me; something I have learned for myself; -and there is something which has come to me from an unknown source. - -But here again we are confronted with the original difficulty--the -difficulty that for some conceptions there is no verbal figure. - -It is comprehensible, it is, indeed, obvious that the deeper abstract -speculation of the Wonder's thought cannot be set out by any metaphor -that would be understood by a lesser intelligence. - -We see that many philosophers, whose utterances have been recorded -in human history--that record which floats like a drop of oil on -the limitless ocean of eternity--have been confronted with this -same difficulty, and have woven an intricate and tedious design -of words in their attempt to convey some single conception--some -conception which themselves could see but dimly when disguised in the -masquerade of language; some figure that as it was limned grew ever -more confused beneath the wrappings of metaphor, so that we who read -can glimpse scarce a hint of its original shape and likeness. We see, -also, that the very philosophers who caricatured their own eidolon, -became intrigued with the logical abstraction of words and were led -away into a wilderness of barren deduction--their one inspired vision -of a stable premiss distorted and at last forgotten. - -How then shall we hope to find words to adumbrate a philosophy -which starts by the assumption that we can have no impression of -reality until we have rid ourselves of the interposing and utterly -false concepts of space and time, which delimit the whole world of -human thought. - -I admit that one cannot even begin to do this thing; within our present -limitations our whole machinery of thought is built of these two -original concepts. They are the only gauges wherewith we may measure -every reality, every abstraction; wherewith we may give outline to -any image or process of the mind. Only when we endeavour to grapple -with that indeterminable mystery of consciousness can we conceive, -however dimly, some idea of a pure abstraction uninfluenced by and -independent of, those twin bases of our means of thought. - -Here it is that Challis has paused. Here he says that we must wait, -that no revelation can reveal what we are incapable of understanding, -that only by the slow process of evolution can we attain to any -understanding of the mystery we have sought to solve by our futile -and primitive hypotheses. - -"But then," I have pressed him, "why do you hesitate to speak of what -you heard on that afternoon?" - -And once he answered me: - -"I glimpsed a finality," he said, "and that appalled me. Don't you -see that ignorance is the means of our intellectual pleasure? It is -the solving of the problem that brings enjoyment--the solved problem -has no further interest. So when all is known, the stimulus for action -ceases; when all is known there is quiescence, nothingness. Perfect -knowledge implies the peace of death, implies the state of being -one--our pleasures are derived from action, from differences, from -heterogeneity. - -"Oh! pity the child," said Challis, "for whom there could be no -mystery. Is not mystery the first and greatest joy of life? Beyond the -gate there is unexplored mystery for us in our childhood. When that is -explored, there are new and wonderful possibilities beyond the hills, -then beyond the seas, beyond the known world, in the everyday chances -and movements of the unknown life in which we are circumstanced. - -"Surely we should all perish through sheer inanity, or die desperately -by suicide if no mystery remained in the world. Mystery takes a -thousand beautiful shapes; it lurks even in the handiwork of man, in -a stone god, or in some mighty, intricate machine, incomprehensibly -deliberate and determined. The imagination endows the man-made thing -with consciousness and powers, whether of reservation or aloofness; -the similitude of meditation and profundity is wrought into stone. Is -there not source for mystery to the uninstructed in the great machine -registering the progress of its own achievement with each solemn, -recurrent beat of its metal pulse? - -"Behind all these things is the wonder of the imagination that never -approaches more nearly to the creation of a hitherto unknown image -than when it thus hesitates on the verge of mystery. - -"There is yet so much, so very much cause for wondering -speculation. Science gains ground so slowly. Slowly it has outlined, -however vaguely, the uncertainties of our origin so far as this world -is concerned, while the mystic has fought for his entrancing fairy -tales one by one. - -"The mystic still holds his enthralling belief in the succession -of peoples who have risen and died--the succeeding world-races, -red, black, yellow, and white, which have in turn dominated this -planet. Science with its hammer and chisel may lay bare evidence, may -collate material, date man's appearance, call him the most recent of -placental mammals, trace his superstitions and his first conceptions -of a god from the elemental fears of the savage. But the mystic turns -aside with an assumption of superior knowledge; he waves away objective -evidence; he has a certainty impressed upon his mind. - -"The mystic is a power; he compels a multitude of followers, because -he offers an attraction greater than the facts of science; he tells of -a mystery profounder than any problem solved by patient investigation, -because his mystery is incomprehensible even by himself; and in fear -lest any should comprehend it, he disguises the approach with an -array of lesser mysteries, man-made; with terminologies, symbologies -and high talk of esotericism too fearful for any save the initiate. - -"But we must preserve our mystic in some form against the awful time -when science shall have determined a limit; when the long history of -evolution shall be written in full, and every stage of world-building -shall be made plain. When the cycle of atomic dust to atomic dust -is demonstrated, and the detail of the life-process is taught and -understood, we shall have a fierce need for the mystic to save us -from the futility of a world we understand, to lie to us if need -be, to inspirit our material and regular minds with some breath of -delicious madness. We shall need the mystic then, or the completeness -of our knowledge will drive us at last to complete the dusty circle -in our eagerness to escape from a world we understand.... - -"See how man clings to his old and useless traditions; see how he -opposes at every step the awful force of progress. At each stage -he protests that the thing that is, is good, or that the thing that -was and has gone, was better. He despises new knowledge and fondly -clings to the belief that once men were greater than they now are. He -looks back to the more primitive, and endows it with that mystery he -cannot find in his own times. So have men ever looked lingeringly -behind them. It is an instinct, a great and wonderful inheritance -that postpones the moment of disillusionment. - -"We are still mercifully surrounded with the countless mysteries -of every-day experience, all the evidences of the unimaginable -stimulus we call life. Would you take them away? Would you resolve -life into a disease of the ether--a disease of which you and I, all -life and all matter, are symptoms? Would you teach that to the child, -and explain to him that the wonder of life and growth is no wonder, -but a demonstrable result of impeded force, to be evaluated by the -application of an adequate formula? - -"You and I," said Challis, "are children in the infancy of the -world. Let us to our play in the nursery of our own times. The day -will come, perhaps, when humanity shall have grown and will have to -take upon itself the heavy burden of knowledge. But you need not fear -that that will be in our day, nor in a thousand years. - -"Meanwhile leave us our childish fancies, our little imaginings, -our hope--children that we are--of those impossible mysteries beyond -the hills ... beyond the hills." - - - - - - - - PRINTED BY - HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD., - LONDON AND AYLESBURY. - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] See the Deutsche Bibliothek and Schöneich's account of the child -of Lübeck. - -[2] A study of genius shows that in a percentage of cases so large -as to exclude the possibility of coincidence, the exceptional man, -whether in the world of action, of art, or of letters, seems to -inherit his magnificent powers through the female line. Mr. Galton, -it is true, did not make a great point of this curious observation, -but the tendency of more recent analyses is all in the direction of -confirming the hypothesis; and it would seem to hold good in the -converse proposition, namely, that the exceptional woman inherits -her qualities from her father. - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Hampdenshire Wonder, by John Davys Beresford - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPDENSHIRE WONDER *** - -***** This file should be named 53028-8.txt or 53028-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/2/53028/ - -Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project -Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously -made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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