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diff --git a/8080-h/8080-h.htm b/8080-h/8080-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a06d9b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/8080-h/8080-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3645 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Passionate Pilgrim, by Henry James</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Passionate Pilgrim, by Henry James</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Passionate Pilgrim</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Henry James</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 12, 2003 [eBook #8080]<br /> +[Most recently updated: November 7, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Eve Sobol and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PASSIONATE PILGRIM ***</div> + +<h1>A PASSIONATE PILGRIM</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Henry James</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Contents</h3> + +<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001">I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0002">II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0003">III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0004">IV</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + + <h2><a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"></a> + I + </h2> + <p> + Intending to sail for America in the early part of June, I determined to + spend the interval of six weeks in England, to which country my mind’s eye + only had as yet been introduced. I had formed in Italy and France a + resolute preference for old inns, considering that what they sometimes + cost the ungratified body they repay the delighted mind. On my arrival in + London, therefore, I lodged at a certain antique hostelry, much to the + east of Temple Bar, deep in the quarter that I had inevitably figured as + the Johnsonian. Here, on the first evening of my stay, I descended to the + little coffee-room and bespoke my dinner of the genius of “attendance” in + the person of the solitary waiter. No sooner had I crossed the threshold + of this retreat than I felt I had cut a golden-ripe crop of English + “impressions.” The coffee-room of the Red Lion, like so many other places + and things I was destined to see in the motherland, seemed to have been + waiting for long years, with just that sturdy sufferance of time written + on its visage, for me to come and extract the romantic essence of it. + </p> + <p> + The latent preparedness of the American mind even for the most + characteristic features of English life was a matter I meanwhile failed to + get to the bottom of. The roots of it are indeed so deeply buried in the + soil of our early culture that, without some great upheaval of feeling, we + are at a loss to say exactly when and where and how it begins. It makes an + American’s enjoyment of England an emotion more searching than anything + Continental. I had seen the coffee-room of the Red Lion years ago, at home—at + Saragossa Illinois—in books, in visions, in dreams, in Dickens, in + Smollett, in Boswell. It was small and subdivided into six narrow + compartments by a series of perpendicular screens of mahogany, something + higher than a man’s stature, furnished on either side with a meagre + uncushioned ledge, denominated in ancient Britain a seat. In each of these + rigid receptacles was a narrow table—a table expected under stress + to accommodate no less than four pairs of active British elbows. High + pressure indeed had passed away from the Red Lion for ever. It now knew + only that of memories and ghosts and atmosphere. Round the room there + marched, breast-high, a magnificent panelling of mahogany, so dark with + time and so polished with unremitted friction that by gazing a while into + its lucid blackness I made out the dim reflexion of a party of wigged + gentlemen in knee-breeches just arrived from York by the coach. On the + dark yellow walls, coated by the fumes of English coal, of English mutton, + of Scotch whiskey, were a dozen melancholy prints, sallow-toned with age—the + Derby favourite of the year 1807, the Bank of England, her Majesty the + Queen. On the floor was a Turkey carpet—as old as the mahogany + almost, as the Bank of England, as the Queen—into which the waiter + had in his lonely revolutions trodden so many massive soot-flakes and + drops of overflowing beer that the glowing looms of Smyrna would certainly + not have recognised it. To say that I ordered my dinner of this archaic + type would be altogether to misrepresent the process owing to which, + having dreamed of lamb and spinach and a <i>salade de saison</i>, I sat down in + penitence to a mutton-chop and a rice pudding. Bracing my feet against the + cross-beam of my little oaken table, I opposed to the mahogany partition + behind me the vigorous dorsal resistance that must have expressed the + old-English idea of repose. The sturdy screen refused even to creak, but + my poor Yankee joints made up the deficiency. + </p> + <p> + While I was waiting there for my chop there came into the room a person + whom, after I had looked at him a moment, I supposed to be a fellow lodger + and probably the only one. He seemed, like myself, to have submitted to + proposals for dinner; the table on the other side of my partition had been + prepared to receive him. He walked up to the fire, exposed his back to it + and, after consulting his watch, looked directly out of the window and + indirectly at me. He was a man of something less than middle age and more + than middle stature, though indeed you would have called him neither young + nor tall. He was chiefly remarkable for his emphasised leanness. His hair, + very thin on the summit of his head, was dark short and fine. His eye was + of a pale turbid grey, unsuited, perhaps, to his dark hair and well-drawn + brows, but not altogether out of harmony with his colourless bilious + complexion. His nose was aquiline and delicate; beneath it his moustache + languished much rather than bristled. His mouth and chin were negative, or + at the most provisional; not vulgar, doubtless, but ineffectually refined. + A cold fatal gentlemanly weakness was expressed indeed in his attenuated + person. His eye was restless and deprecating; his whole physiognomy, his + manner of shifting his weight from foot to foot, the spiritless droop of + his head, told of exhausted intentions, of a will relaxed. His dress was + neat and “toned down”—he might have been in mourning. I made up my + mind on three points: he was a bachelor, he was out of health, he was not + indigenous to the soil. The waiter approached him, and they conversed in + accents barely audible. I heard the words “claret,” “sherry” with a + tentative inflexion, and finally “beer” with its last letter changed to + “ah.” Perhaps he was a Russian in reduced circumstances; he reminded me + slightly of certain sceptical cosmopolite Russians whom I had met on the + Continent. While in my extravagant way I followed this train—for you + see I was interested—there appeared a short brisk man with + reddish-brown hair, with a vulgar nose, a sharp blue eye and a red beard + confined to his lower jaw and chin. My putative Russian, still in + possession of the rug, let his mild gaze stray over the dingy ornaments of + the room. The other drew near, and his umbrella dealt a playful poke at + the concave melancholy waistcoat. “A penny ha’penny for your thoughts!” + </p> + <p> + My friend, as I call him, uttered an exclamation, stared, then laid his + two hands on the other’s shoulders. The latter looked round at me keenly, + compassing me in a momentary glance. I read in its own vague light that + this was a transatlantic eyebeam; and with such confidence that I hardly + needed to see its owner, as he prepared, with his companion, to seat + himself at the table adjoining my own, take from his overcoat-pocket three + New York newspapers and lay them beside his plate. As my neighbours + proceeded to dine I felt the crumbs of their conversation scattered pretty + freely abroad. I could hear almost all they said, without straining to + catch it, over the top of the partition that divided us. Occasionally + their voices dropped to recovery of discretion, but the mystery pieced + itself together as if on purpose to entertain me. Their speech was pitched + in the key that may in English air be called alien in spite of a few + coincidences. The voices were American, however, with a difference; and I + had no hesitation in assigning the softer and clearer sound to the pale + thin gentleman, whom I decidedly preferred to his comrade. The latter + began to question him about his voyage. + </p> + <p> + “Horrible, horrible! I was deadly sick from the hour we left New York.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you do look considerably reduced,” said the second-comer. + </p> + <p> + “Reduced! I’ve been on the verge of the grave. I haven’t slept six hours + for three weeks.” This was said with great gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve made the voyage for the last time.” + </p> + <p> + “The plague you have! You mean to locate here permanently?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh it won’t be so very permanent!” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause; after which: “You’re the same merry old boy, Searle. + Going to give up the ghost to-morrow, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I almost wish I were.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not so sweet on England then? I’ve heard people say at home that + you dress and talk and act like an Englishman. But I know these people + here and I know you. You’re not one of this crowd, Clement Searle, not + you. You’ll go under here, sir; you’ll go under as sure as my name’s + Simmons.” + </p> + <p> + Following this I heard a sudden clatter as of the drop of a knife and + fork. “Well, you’re a delicate sort of creature, if it IS your ugly name! + I’ve been wandering about all day in this accursed city, ready to cry with + homesickness and heartsickness and every possible sort of sickness, and + thinking, in the absence of anything better, of meeting you here this + evening and of your uttering some sound of cheer and comfort and giving me + some glimmer of hope. Go under? Ain’t I under now? I can’t do more than + get under the ground!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Simmons’s superior brightness appeared to flicker a moment in this + gust of despair, but the next it was burning steady again. “<i>Don’t</i> ‘cry,’ + Searle,” I heard him say. “Remember the waiter. I’ve grown Englishman + enough for that. For heaven’s sake don’t let’s have any nerves. Nerves + won’t do anything for you here. It’s best to come to the point. Tell me in + three words what you expect of me.” + </p> + <p> + I heard another movement, as if poor Searle had collapsed in his chair. + “Upon my word, sir, you’re quite inconceivable. You never got my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I got your letter. I was never sorrier to get anything in my life.” + </p> + <p> + At this declaration Mr. Searle rattled out an oath, which it was well + perhaps that I but partially heard. “Abijah Simmons,” he then cried, “what + demon of perversity possesses you? Are you going to betray me here in a + foreign land, to turn out a false friend, a heartless rogue?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, sir,” said sturdy Simmons. “Pour it all out. I’ll wait till you’ve + done. Your beer’s lovely,” he observed independently to the waiter. “I’ll + have some more.” + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake explain yourself!” his companion appealed. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, at the end of which I heard Mr. Simmons set down his + empty tankard with emphasis. “You poor morbid mooning man,” he resumed, “I + don’t want to say anything to make you feel sore. I regularly pity you. + But you must allow that you’ve acted more like a confirmed crank than a + member of our best society—in which every one’s so sensible.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle seemed to have made an effort to compose himself. “Be so good + as to tell me then what was the meaning of your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you had got on <i>my</i> nerves, if you want to know, when I wrote it. It + came of my always wishing so to please folks. I had much better have let + you alone. To tell you the plain truth I never was so horrified in my life + as when I found that on the strength of my few kind words you had come out + here to seek your fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “What then did you expect me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I expected you to wait patiently till I had made further enquiries and + had written you again.” + </p> + <p> + “And you’ve made further enquiries now?” + </p> + <p> + “Enquiries! I’ve committed assaults.” + </p> + <p> + “And you find I’ve no claim?” + </p> + <p> + “No claim that one of <i>these</i> big bugs will look at. It struck me at first + that you had rather a neat little case. I confess the look of it took hold + of me—” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to your liking so to please folks!” Mr. Simmons appeared for a + moment at odds with something; it proved to be with his liquor. “I rather + think your beer’s too good to be true,” he said to the waiter. “I guess + I’ll take water. Come, old man,” he resumed, “don’t challenge me to the + arts of debate, or you’ll have me right down on you, and then you <i>will</i> + feel me. My native sweetness, as I say, was part of it. The idea that if I + put the thing through it would be a very pretty feather in my cap and a + very pretty penny in my purse was part of it. And the satisfaction of + seeing a horrid low American walk right into an old English estate was a + good deal of it. Upon my word, Searle, when I think of it I wish with all + my heart that, extravagant vain man as you are, I <i>could</i>, for the charm of + it, put you through! I should hardly care what you did with the blamed + place when you got it. I could leave you alone to turn it into Yankee + notions—into ducks and drakes as they call ‘em here. I should like + to see you tearing round over it and kicking up its sacred dust in their + very faces!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know me one little bit,” said Mr. Searle, rather shirking, I + thought, the burden of this tribute and for all response to the ambiguity + of the compliment. + </p> + <p> + “I should be very glad to think I didn’t, sir. I’ve been to no small + amount of personal inconvenience for you. I’ve pushed my way right up to + the headspring. I’ve got the best opinion that’s to be had. The best + opinion that’s to be had just gives you one leer over its spectacles. I + guess that look will fix you if you ever get it straight. I’ve been able + to tap, indirectly,” Mr. Simmons went on, “the solicitor of your usurping + cousin, and he evidently knows something to be in the wind. It seems your + elder brother twenty years ago put out a feeler. So you’re not to have the + glory of even making them sit up.” + </p> + <p> + “I never made any one sit up,” I heard Mr. Searle plead. “I shouldn’t + begin at this time of day. I should approach the subject like a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you want very much to do something like a gentleman you’ve got a + capital chance. Take your disappointment like a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + I had finished my dinner and had become keenly interested in poor Mr. + Searle’s unencouraging—or unencouraged—claim; so interested + that I at last hated to hear his trouble reflected in his voice without + being able—all respectfully!—to follow it in his face. I left + my place, went over to the fire, took up the evening paper and established + a post of observation behind it. + </p> + <p> + His cold counsellor was in the act of choosing a soft chop from the dish—an + act accompanied by a great deal of prying and poking with that gentleman’s + own fork. My disillusioned compatriot had pushed away his plate; he sat + with his elbows on the table, gloomily nursing his head with his hands. + His companion watched him and then seemed to wonder—to do Mr. + Simmons justice—how he could least ungracefully give him up. “I say, + Searle,”—and for my benefit, I think, taking me for a native + ingenuous enough to be dazzled by his wit, he lifted his voice a little + and gave it an ironical ring—“in this country it’s the inestimable + privilege of a loyal citizen, under whatsoever stress of pleasure or of + pain, to make a point of eating his dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle gave his plate another push. “Anything may happen now. I don’t + care a straw.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to care. Have another chop and you <i>will</i> care. Have some better + tipple. Take my advice!” Mr. Simmons went on. + </p> + <p> + My friend—I adopt that name for him—gazed from between his two + hands coldly before him. “I’ve had enough of your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “A little more,” said Simmons mildly; “I shan’t trouble you again. What do + you mean to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh come!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing, nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but starve. How about meeting expenses?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” said my friend. “You don’t care.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, if you want to make me offer you twenty pounds you set + most clumsily about it. You said just now I don’t know you,” Mr. Simmons + went on. “Possibly. Come back with me then,” he said kindly enough, “and + let’s improve our acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t go back. I shall never go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Never?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Simmons thought it shrewdly over. “Well, you <i>are</i> sick!” he exclaimed + presently. “All I can say is that if you’re working out a plan for cold + poison, or for any other act of desperation, you had better give it right + up. You can’t get a dose of the commonest kind of cold poison for nothing, + you know. Look here, Searle”—and the worthy man made what struck me + as a very decent appeal. “If you’ll consent to return home with me by the + steamer of the twenty-third I’ll pay your passage down. More than that, + I’ll pay for your beer.” + </p> + <p> + My poor gentleman met it. “I believe I never made up my mind to anything + before, but I think it’s made up now. I shall stay here till I take my + departure for a newer world than any patched-up newness of ours. It’s an + odd feeling—I rather like it! What should I do at home?” + </p> + <p> + “You said just now you were homesick.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant I was sick for a home. Don’t I belong here? Haven’t I longed to + get here all my life? Haven’t I counted the months and the years till I + should be able to ‘go’ as we say? And now that I’ve ‘gone,’ that is that + I’ve come, must I just back out? No, no, I’ll move on. I’m much obliged to + you for your offer. I’ve enough money for the present. I’ve about my + person some forty pounds’ worth of British gold, and the same amount, say, + of the toughness of the heaven-sent idiot. They’ll see me through + together! After they’re gone I shall lay my head in some English + churchyard, beside some ivied tower, beneath an old gnarled black yew.” + </p> + <p> + I had so far distinctly followed the dialogue; but at this point the + landlord entered and, begging my pardon, would suggest that number 12, a + most superior apartment, having now been vacated, it would give him + pleasure if I would look in. I declined to look in, but agreed for number + 12 at a venture and gave myself again, with dissimulation, to my friends. + They had got up; Simmons had put on his overcoat; he stood polishing his + rusty black hat with his napkin. “Do you mean to go down to the place?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. I’ve thought of it so often that I should like to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you call on Mr. Searle?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “Something has just occurred to me,” Simmons pursued with a grin that made + his upper lip look more than ever denuded by the razor and jerked the ugly + ornament of his chin into the air. “There’s a certain Miss Searle, the old + man’s sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” my gentleman quavered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir!—you talk of moving on. You might move on the damsel.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle frowned in silence and his companion gave him a tap on the + stomach. “Line those ribs a bit first!” He blushed crimson; his eyes + filled with tears. “You ARE a coarse brute,” he said. The scene quite + harrowed me, but I was prevented from seeing it through by the + reappearance of the landlord on behalf of number 12. He represented to me + that I ought in justice to him to come and see how tidy they <i>had</i> made it. + Half an hour afterwards I was rattling along in a hansom toward Covent + Garden, where I heard Madame Bosio in <i>The Barber of Seville</i>. On my return + from the opera I went into the coffee-room; it had occurred to me I might + catch there another glimpse of Mr. Searle. I was not disappointed. I found + him seated before the fire with his head sunk on his breast: he slept, + dreaming perhaps of Abijah Simmons. I watched him for some moments. His + closed eyes, in the dim lamplight, looked even more helpless and resigned, + and I seemed to see the fine grain of his nature in his unconscious mask. + They say fortune comes while we sleep, and, standing there, I felt really + tender enough—though otherwise most unqualified—to be poor Mr. + Searle’s fortune. As I walked away I noted in one of the little prandial + pews I have described the melancholy waiter, whose whiskered chin also + reposed on the bulge of his shirt-front. I lingered a moment beside the + old inn-yard in which, upon a time, the coaches and post-chaises found + space to turn and disgorge. Above the dusky shaft of the enclosing + galleries, where lounging lodgers and crumpled chambermaids and all the + picturesque domesticity of a rattling tavern must have leaned on their + elbows for many a year, I made out the far-off lurid twinkle of the London + constellations. At the foot of the stairs, enshrined in the glittering + niche of her well-appointed bar, the landlady sat napping like some solemn + idol amid votive brass and plate. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, not finding the subject of my benevolent curiosity in + the coffee-room, I learned from the waiter that he had ordered breakfast + in bed. Into this asylum I was not yet prepared to pursue him. I spent the + morning in the streets, partly under pressure of business, but catching + all kinds of romantic impressions by the way. To the searching American + eye there is no tint of association with which the great grimy face of + London doesn’t flush. As the afternoon approached, however, I began to + yearn for some site more gracefully classic than what surrounded me, and, + thinking over the excursions recommended to the ingenuous stranger, + decided to take the train to Hampton Court. The day was the more + propitious that it yielded just that dim subaqueous light which sleeps so + fondly upon the English landscape. + </p> + <p> + At the end of an hour I found myself wandering through the apartments of + the great palace. They follow each other in infinite succession, with no + great variety of interest or aspect, but with persistent pomp and a fine + specific effect. They are exactly of their various times. You pass from + painted and panelled bedchambers and closets, anterooms, drawing-rooms, + council-rooms, through king’s suite, queen’s suite, prince’s suite, until + you feel yourself move through the appointed hours and stages of some + rigid monarchical day. On one side are the old monumental upholsteries, + the big cold tarnished beds and canopies, with the circumference of + disapparelled royalty symbolised by a gilded balustrade, and the great + carved and yawning chimney-places where dukes-in-waiting may have warmed + their weary heels; on the other, in deep recesses, rise the immense + windows, the framed and draped embrasures where the sovereign whispered + and favourites smiled, looking out on terraced gardens and misty park. The + brown walls are dimly illumined by innumerable portraits of courtiers and + captains, more especially with various members of the Batavian <i>entourage</i> + of William of Orange, the restorer of the palace; with good store too of + the lily-bosomed models of Lely and Kneller. The whole tone of this + processional interior is singularly stale and sad. The tints of all things + have both faded and darkened—you taste the chill of the place as you + walk from room to room. It was still early in the day and in the season, + and I flattered myself that I was the only visitor. This complacency, + however, dropped at sight of a person standing motionless before a + simpering countess of Sir Peter Lely’s creation. On hearing my footstep + this victim of an evaporated spell turned his head and I recognised my + fellow lodger of the Red Lion. I was apparently recognised as well; he + looked as if he could scarce wait for me to be kind to him, and in fact + didn’t wait. Seeing I had a catalogue he asked the name of the portrait. + On my satisfying him he appealed, rather timidly, as to my opinion of the + lady. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, not quite timidly enough perhaps, “I confess she strikes + me as no great matter.” + </p> + <p> + He remained silent and was evidently a little abashed. As we strolled away + he stole a sidelong glance of farewell at his leering shepherdess. To + speak with him face to face was to feel keenly that he was no less + interesting than infirm. We talked of our inn, of London, of the palace; + he uttered his mind freely, but seemed to struggle with a weight of + depression. It was an honest mind enough, with no great cultivation but + with a certain natural love of excellent things. I foresaw that I should + find him quite to the manner born—to ours; full of glimpses and + responses, of deserts and desolations. His perceptions would be fine and + his opinions pathetic; I should moreover take refuge from his sense of + proportion in his sense of humour, and then refuge from <i>that</i>, ah me!—in + what? On my telling him that I was a fellow citizen he stopped short, + deeply touched, and, silently passing his arm into my own, suffered me to + lead him through the other apartments and down into the gardens. A large + gravelled platform stretches itself before the basement of the palace, + taking the afternoon sun. Parts of the great structure are reserved for + private use and habitation, occupied by state-pensioners, reduced + gentlewomen in receipt of the Queen’s bounty and other deserving persons. + Many of the apartments have their dependent gardens, and here and there, + between the verdure-coated walls, you catch a glimpse of these somewhat + stuffy bowers. My companion and I measured more than once this long + expanse, looking down on the floral figures of the rest of the affair and + on the stoutly-woven tapestry of creeping plants that muffle the + foundations of the huge red pile. I thought of the various images of + old-world gentility which, early and late, must have strolled in front of + it and felt the protection and security of the place. We peeped through an + antique grating into one of the mossy cages and saw an old lady with a + black mantilla on her head, a decanter of water in one hand and a crutch + in the other, come forth, followed by three little dogs and a cat, to + sprinkle a plant. She would probably have had an opinion on the virtue of + Queen Caroline. Feeling these things together made us quickly, made us + extraordinarily, intimate. My companion seemed to ache with his + impression; he scowled, all gently, as if it gave him pain. I proposed at + last that we should dine somewhere on the spot and take a late train to + town. We made our way out of the gardens into the adjoining village, where + we entered an inn which I pronounced, very sincerely, exactly what we + wanted. Mr. Searle had approached our board as shyly as if it had been a + cold bath; but, gradually warming to his work, he declared at the end of + half an hour that for the first time in a month he enjoyed his victuals. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid you’re rather out of health,” I risked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—I’m an incurable.” + </p> + <p> + The little village of Hampton Court stands clustered about the entrance of + Bushey Park, and after we had dined we lounged along into the celebrated + avenue of horse-chestnuts. There is a rare emotion, familiar to every + intelligent traveller, in which the mind seems to swallow the sum total of + its impressions at a gulp. You take in the whole place, whatever it be. + You feel England, you feel Italy, and the sensation involves for the + moment a kind of thrill. I had known it from time to time in Italy and had + opened my soul to it as to the spirit of the Lord. Since my landing in + England I had been waiting for it to arrive. A bottle of tolerable + Burgundy, at dinner, had perhaps unlocked to it the gates of sense; it + arrived now with irresistible force. Just the scene around me was the + England of one’s early reveries. Over against us, amid the ripeness of its + gardens, the dark red residence, with its formal facings and its vacant + windows, seemed to make the past definite and massive; the little village, + nestling between park and palace, around a patch of turfy common, with its + taverns of figurative names, its ivy-towered church, its mossy roofs, + looked like the property of a feudal lord. It was in this dark composite + light that I had read the British classics; it was this mild moist air + that had blown from the pages of the poets; while I seemed to feel the + buried generations in the dense and elastic sod. And that I must have + testified in some form or other to what I have called my thrill I gather, + remembering it, from a remark of my companion’s. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve the advantage over me in coming to all this with an educated eye. + You already know what old things can be. I’ve never known it but by + report. I’ve always fancied I should like it. In a small way at home, of + course, I did try to stand by my idea of it. I must be a conservative by + nature. People at home used to call me a cockney and a fribble. But it + wasn’t true,” he went on; “if it had been I should have made my way over + here long ago: before—before—” He paused, and his head dropped + sadly on his breast. + </p> + <p> + The bottle of Burgundy had loosened his tongue; I had but to choose my + time for learning his story. Something told me that I had gained his + confidence and that, so far as attention and attitude might go, I was “in” + for responsibilities. But somehow I didn’t dread them. “Before you lost + your health,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Before I lost my health,” he answered. “And my property—the little + I had. And my ambition. And any power to take myself seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “Come!” I cried. “You shall recover everything. This tonic English climate + will wind you up in a month. And <i>then</i> see how you’ll take yourself—and + how I shall take you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he gratefully smiled, “I may turn to dust in your hands! I should + like,” he presently pursued, “to be an old genteel pensioner, lodged over + there in the palace and spending my days in maundering about these vistas. + I should go every morning, at the hour when it gets the sun, into that + long gallery where all those pretty women of Lely’s are hung—I know + you despise them!—and stroll up and down and say something kind to + them. Poor precious forsaken creatures! So flattered and courted in their + day, so neglected now! Offering up their shoulders and ringlets and smiles + to that musty deadly silence!” + </p> + <p> + I laid my hand on my friend’s shoulder. “Oh sir, you’re all right!” + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment there came cantering down the shallow glade of the + avenue a young girl on a fine black horse—one of those little + budding gentlewomen, perfectly mounted and equipped, who form to alien + eyes one of the prettiest incidents of English scenery. She had distanced + her servant and, as she came abreast of us, turned slightly in her saddle + and glanced back at him. In the movement she dropped the hunting-crop with + which she was armed; whereupon she reined up and looked shyly at us and at + the implement. “This is something better than a Lely,” I said. Searle + hastened forward, picked up the crop and, with a particular courtesy that + became him, handed it back to the rider. Fluttered and blushing she + reached forward, took it with a quick sweet sound, and the next moment was + bounding over the quiet turf. Searle stood watching her; the servant, as + he passed us, touched his hat. When my friend turned toward me again I saw + that he too was blushing. “Oh sir, you’re all right,” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + At a short distance from where we had stopped was an old stone bench. We + went and sat down on it and, as the sun began to sink, watched the light + mist powder itself with gold. “We ought to be thinking of the train back + to London, I suppose,” I at last said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh hang the train!” sighed my companion. + </p> + <p> + “Willingly. There could be no better spot than this to feel the English + evening stand still.” So we lingered, and the twilight hung about us, + strangely clear in spite of the thickness of the air. As we sat there came + into view an apparition unmistakeable from afar as an immemorial vagrant—the + disowned, in his own rich way, of all the English ages. As he approached + us he slackened pace and finally halted, touching his cap. He was a man of + middle age, clad in a greasy bonnet with false-looking ear-locks depending + from its sides. Round his neck was a grimy red scarf, tucked into his + waistcoat; his coat and trousers had a remote affinity with those of a + reduced hostler. In one hand he had a stick; on his arm he bore a tattered + basket, with a handful of withered vegetables at the bottom. His face was + pale haggard and degraded beyond description—as base as a + counterfeit coin, yet as modelled somehow as a tragic mask. He too, like + everything else, had a history. From what height had he fallen, from what + depth had he risen? He was the perfect symbol of generated constituted + baseness; and I felt before him in presence of a great artist or actor. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, gentlemen,” he said in the raucous tone of weather-beaten + poverty, the tone of chronic sore-throat exacerbated by perpetual gin, + “for God’s sake, gentlemen, have pity on a poor fern-collector!”—turning + up his stale daisies. “Food hasn’t passed my lips, gentlemen, for the last + three days.” We gaped at him and at each other, and to our imagination his + appeal had almost the force of a command. “I wonder if half-a-crown would + help?” I privately wailed. And our fasting botanist went limping away + through the park with the grace of controlled stupefaction still further + enriching his outline. + </p> + <p> + “I feel as if I had seen my <i>Doppelgänger</i>,” said Searle. “He reminds me of + myself. What am I but a mere figure in the landscape, a wandering minstrel + or picker of daisies?” + </p> + <p> + “What are you ‘anyway,’ my friend?” I thereupon took occasion to ask. “Who + are you? kindly tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The colour rose again to his pale face and I feared I had offended him. He + poked a moment at the sod with the point of his umbrella before answering. + “Who am I?” he said at last. “My name is Clement Searle. I was born in New + York, and that’s the beginning and the end of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah not the end!” I made bold to plead. + </p> + <p> + “Then it’s because I <i>have</i> no end—any more than an ill-written book. + I just stop anywhere; which means I’m a failure,” the poor man all lucidly + and unreservedly pursued: “a failure, as hopeless and helpless, sir, as + any that ever swallowed up the slender investments of the widow and the + orphan. I don’t pay five cents on the dollar. What I might have been—once!—there’s + nothing left to show. I was rotten before I was ripe. To begin with, + certainly, I wasn’t a fountain of wisdom. All the more reason for a + definite channel—for having a little character and purpose. But I + hadn’t even a little. I had nothing but nice tastes, as they call them, + and fine sympathies and sentiments. Take a turn through New York to-day + and you’ll find the tattered remnants of these things dangling on every + bush and fluttering in every breeze; the men to whom I lent money, the + women to whom I made love, the friends I trusted, the follies I invented, + the poisonous fumes of pleasure amid which nothing was worth a thought but + the manhood they stifled! It was my fault that I believed in pleasure here + below. I believe in it still, but as I believe in the immortality of the + soul. The soul is immortal, certainly—if you’ve got one; but most + people haven’t. Pleasure would be right if it were pleasure straight + through; but it never is. My taste was to be the best in the world; well, + perhaps it was. I had a little money; it went the way of my little wit. + Here in my pocket I have the scant dregs of it. I should tell you I was + the biggest kind of ass. Just now that description would flatter me; it + would assume there’s something left of me. But the ghost of a donkey—what’s + that? I think,” he went on with a charming turn and as if striking off his + real explanation, “I should have been all right in a world arranged on + different lines. Before heaven, sir—whoever you are—I’m in + practice so absurdly tender-hearted that I can afford to say it: I entered + upon life a perfect gentleman. I had the love of old forms and pleasant + rites, and I found them nowhere—found a world all hard lines and + harsh lights, without shade, without composition, as they say of pictures, + without the lovely mystery of colour. To furnish colour I melted down the + very substance of my own soul. I went about with my brush, touching up and + toning down; a very pretty chiaroscuro you’ll find in my track! Sitting + here in this old park, in this old country, I feel that I hover on the + misty verge of what might have been! I should have been born here and not + there; here my makeshift distinctions would have found things they’d have + been true of. How it was I never got free is more than I can say. It might + have cut the knot, but the knot was too tight. I was always out of health + or in debt or somehow desperately dangling. Besides, I had a horror of the + great black sickening sea. A year ago I was reminded of the existence of + an old claim to an English estate, which has danced before the eyes of my + family, at odd moments, any time these eighty years. I confess it’s a bit + of a muddle and a tangle, and am by no means sure that to this hour I’ve + got the hang of it. You look as if you had a clear head: some other time, + if you consent, we’ll have a go at it, such as it is, together. Poverty + was staring me in the face; I sat down and tried to commit the ‘points’ of + our case to memory, as I used to get nine-times-nine by heart as a boy. I + dreamed of it for six months, half-expecting to wake up some fine morning + and hear through a latticed casement the cawing of an English rookery. A + couple of months ago there came out to England on business of his own a + man who once got me out of a dreadful mess (not that I had hurt anyone but + myself), a legal practitioner in our courts, a very rough diamond, but + with a great deal of <i>flair</i>, as they say in New York. It was with him + yesterday you saw me dining. He undertook, as he called it, to ‘nose + round’ and see if anything could be made of our questionable but possible + show. The matter had never seriously been taken up. A month later I got a + letter from Simmons assuring me that it seemed a very good show indeed and + that he should be greatly surprised if I were unable to do something. This + was the greatest push I had ever got in my life; I took a deliberate step, + for the first time; I sailed for England. I’ve been here three days: + they’ve seemed three months. After keeping me waiting for thirty-six hours + my legal adviser makes his appearance last night and states to me, with + his mouth full of mutton, that I haven’t a leg to stand on, that my claim + is moonshine, and that I must do penance and take a ticket for six more + days of purgatory with his presence thrown in. My friend, my friend—shall + I say I was disappointed? I’m already resigned. I didn’t really believe I + had any case. I felt in my deeper consciousness that it was the crowning + illusion of a life of illusions. Well, it was a pretty one. Poor legal + adviser!—I forgive him with all my heart. But for him I shouldn’t be + sitting in this place, in this air, under these impressions. This is a + world I could have got on with beautifully. There’s an immense charm in + its having been kept for the last. After it nothing else would have been + tolerable. I shall now have a month of it, I hope, which won’t be long + enough for it to “go back on me. There’s one thing!”—and here, + pausing, he laid his hand on mine; I rose and stood before him—“I + wish it were possible you should be with me to the end.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you to leave you only when you kick me downstairs.” But I + suggested my terms. “It must be on condition of your omitting from your + conversation this intolerable flavour of mortality. I know nothing of + ‘ends.’ I’m all for beginnings.” + </p> + <p> + He kept on me his sad weak eyes. Then with a faint smile: “Don’t cut down + a man you find hanging. He has had a reason for it. I’m bankrupt.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh health’s money!” I said. “Get well, and the rest will take care of + itself. I’m interested in your questionable claim—it’s the question + that’s the charm; and pretenders, to anything big enough, have always + been, for me, an attractive class. Only their first duty’s to be gallant.” + </p> + <p> + “Their first duty’s to understand their own points and to know their own + mind,” he returned with hopeless lucidity. “Don’t ask me to climb our + family tree now,” he added; “I fear I haven’t the head for it. I’ll try + some day—if it will bear my weight; or yours added to mine. There’s + no doubt, however, that we, as they say, go back. But I know nothing of + business. If I were to take the matter in hand I should break in two the + poor little silken thread from which everything hangs. In a better world + than this I think I should be listened to. But the wind doesn’t set to + ideal justice. There’s no doubt that a hundred years ago we suffered a + palpable wrong. Yet we made no appeal at the time, and the dust of a + century now lies heaped upon our silence. Let it rest!” + </p> + <p> + “What then,” I asked, “is the estimated value of your interest?” + </p> + <p> + “We were instructed from the first to accept a compromise. Compared with + the whole property our ideas have been small. We were once advised in the + sense of a hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Why a hundred and thirty + I’m sure I don’t know. Don’t beguile me into figures.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me one more question,” I said. “Who’s actually in possession?” + </p> + <p> + “A certain Mr. Richard Searle. I know nothing about him.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s in some way related to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Our great-grandfathers were half-brothers. What does that make us?” + </p> + <p> + “Twentieth cousins, say. And where does your twentieth cousin live?” + </p> + <p> + “At a place called Lackley—in Middleshire.” + </p> + <p> + I thought it over. “Well, suppose we look up Lackley in Middleshire!” + </p> + <p> + He got straight up. “Go and see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Go and see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “with you I’ll go anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + On our return to town we determined to spend three days there together and + then proceed to our errand. We were as conscious one as the other of that + deeper mystic appeal made by London to those superstitious pilgrims who + feel it the mother-city of their race, the distributing heart of their + traditional life. Certain characteristics of the dusky Babylon, certain + aspects, phases, features, “say” more to the American spiritual ear than + anything else in Europe. The influence of these things on Searle it + charmed me to note. His observation I soon saw to be, as I pronounced it + to him, searching and caressing. His almost morbid appetite for any + over-scoring of time, well-nigh extinct from long inanition, threw the + flush of its revival into his face and his talk. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + + <h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a> + II + </h2> + <p> + We looked out the topography of Middleshire in a county-guide, which spoke + highly, as the phrase is, of Lackley Park, and took up our abode, our + journey ended, at a wayside inn where, in the days of leisure, the coach + must have stopped for luncheon and burnished pewters of rustic ale been + handed up as straight as possible to outsiders athirst with the sense of + speed. We stopped here for mere gaping joy of its steep-thatched roof, its + latticed windows, its hospitable porch, and allowed a couple of days to + elapse in vague undirected strolls and sweet sentimental observance of the + land before approaching the particular business that had drawn us on. The + region I allude to is a compendium of the general physiognomy of England. + The noble friendliness of the scenery, its latent old-friendliness, the + way we scarcely knew whether we were looking at it for the first or the + last time, made it arrest us at every step. The countryside, in the full + warm rains of the last of April, had burst into sudden perfect spring. The + dark walls of the hedgerows had turned into blooming screens, the sodden + verdure of lawn and meadow been washed over with a lighter brush. We went + forth without loss of time for a long walk on the great grassy hills, + smooth arrested central billows of some primitive upheaval, from the + summits of which you find half England unrolled at your feet. A dozen + broad counties, within the scope of your vision, commingle their green + exhalations. Closely beneath us lay the dark rich hedgy flats and the + copse-chequered slopes, white with the blossom of apples. At widely + opposite points of the expanse two great towers of cathedrals rose sharply + out of a reddish blur of habitation, taking the mild English light. + </p> + <p> + We gave an irrepressible attention to this same solar reserve, and found + in it only a refinement of art. The sky never was empty and never idle; + the clouds were continually at play for our benefit. Over against us, from + our station on the hills, we saw them piled and dissolved, condensed and + shifted, blotting the blue with sullen rain-spots, stretching, + breeze-fretted, into dappled fields of grey, bursting into an explosion of + light or melting into a drizzle of silver. We made our way along the + rounded ridge of the downs and reached, by a descent, through slanting + angular fields, green to cottage-doors, a russet village that beckoned us + from the heart of the maze in which the hedges wrapped it up. Close beside + it, I admit, the roaring train bounces out of a hole in the hills; yet + there broods upon this charming hamlet an old-time quietude that makes a + violation of confidence of naming it so far away. We struck through a + narrow lane, a green lane, dim with its barriers of hawthorn; it led us to + a superb old farmhouse, now rather rudely jostled by the multiplied roads + and by-ways that have reduced its ancient appanage. It stands there in + stubborn picturesqueness, doggedly submitting to be pointed out and + sketched. It is a wonderful image of the domiciliary conditions of the + past—cruelly complete; with bended beams and joists, beneath the + burden of gables, that seem to ache and groan with memories and regrets. + The short low windows, where lead and glass combine equally to create an + inward gloom, retain their opacity as a part of the primitive idea of + defence. Such an old house provokes on the part of an American a luxury of + respect. So propped and patched, so tinkered with clumsy tenderness, + clustered so richly about its central English sturdiness, its oaken + vertebrations, so humanised with ages of use and touches of beneficent + affection, it seemed to offer to our grateful eyes a small rude symbol of + the great English social order. Passing out upon the highroad, we came to + the common browsing-patch, the “village-green” of the tales of our youth. + Nothing was absent: the shaggy mouse-coloured donkey, nosing the turf with + his mild and huge proboscis, the geese, the old woman—<i>the</i> old woman, + in person, with her red cloak and her black bonnet, frilled about the face + and double-frilled beside her decent placid cheeks—the towering + ploughman with his white smock-frock puckered on chest and back, his short + corduroys, his mighty calves, his big red rural face. We greeted these + things as children greet the loved pictures in a storybook lost and + mourned and found again. We recognised them as one recognises the + handwriting on letter-backs. Beside the road we saw a ploughboy straddle + whistling on a stile, and he had the merit of being not only a ploughboy + but a Gainsborough. Beyond the stile, across the level velvet of a meadow, + a footpath wandered like a streak drawn by a finger over a surface of fine + plush. We followed it from field to field and from stile to stile; it was + all adorably the way to church. At the church we finally arrived, lost in + its rook-haunted churchyard, hidden from the workday world by the broad + stillness of pastures—a grey, grey tower, a huge black yew, a + cluster of village-graves with crooked headstones and protrusions that had + settled and sunk. The place seemed so to ache with consecration that my + sensitive companion gave way to the force of it. + </p> + <p> + “You must bury me here, you know”—he caught at my arm. “It’s the + first place of worship I’ve seen in my life. How it makes a Sunday where + it stands!” + </p> + <p> + It took the Church, we agreed, to make churches, but we had the sense the + next day of seeing still better why. We walked over some seven miles, to + the nearer of the two neighbouring seats of that lesson; and all through + such a mist of local colour that we felt ourselves a pair of Smollett’s + pedestrian heroes faring tavernward for a night of adventures. As we + neared the provincial city we saw the steepled mass of the cathedral, long + and high, rise far into the cloud-freckled blue; and as we got closer + stopped on a bridge and looked down at the reflexion of the solid minster + in a yellow stream. Going further yet we entered the russet town—where + surely Miss Austen’s heroines, in chariots and curricles, must often have + come a-shopping for their sandals and mittens; we lounged in the grassed + and gravelled precinct and gazed insatiably at that most soul-soothing + sight, the waning wasting afternoon light, the visible ether that feels + the voices of the chimes cling far aloft to the quiet sides of the + cathedral-tower; saw it linger and nestle and abide, as it loves to do on + all perpendicular spaces, converting them irresistibly into registers and + dials; tasted too, as deeply, of the peculiar stillness of this place of + priests; saw a rosy English lad come forth and lock the door of the old + foundation-school that dovetailed with cloister and choir, and carry his + big responsible key into one of the quiet canonical houses: and then stood + musing together on the effect on one’s mind of having in one’s boyhood + gone and come through cathedral-shades as a King’s scholar, and yet kept + ruddy with much cricket in misty river meadows. On the third morning we + betook ourselves to Lackley, having learned that parts of the “grounds” + were open to visitors, and that indeed on application the house was + sometimes shown. + </p> + <p> + Within the range of these numerous acres the declining spurs of the hills + continued to undulate and subside. A long avenue wound and circled from + the outermost gate through an untrimmed woodland, whence you glanced at + further slopes and glades and copses and bosky recesses—at + everything except the limits of the place. It was as free and untended as + I had found a few of the large loose villas of old Italy, and I was still + never to see the angular fact of English landlordism muffle itself in so + many concessions. The weather had just become perfect; it was one of the + dozen exquisite days of the English year—days stamped with a purity + unknown in climates where fine weather is cheap. It was as if the mellow + brightness, as tender as that of the primroses which starred the dark + waysides like petals wind-scattered over beds of moss, had been meted out + to us by the cubic foot—distilled from an alchemist’s crucible. From + this pastoral abundance we moved upon the more composed scene, the park + proper—passed through a second lodge-gate, with weather-worn gilding + on its twisted bars, to the smooth slopes where the great trees stood + singly and the tame deer browsed along the bed of a woodland stream. Here + before us rose the gabled grey front of the Tudor-time, developed and + terraced and gardened to some later loss, as we were afterwards to know, + of type. + </p> + <p> + “Here you can wander all day,” I said to Searle, “like an exiled prince + who has come back on tiptoe and hovers about the dominion of the usurper.” + </p> + <p> + “To think of ‘others’ having hugged this all these years!” he answered. “I + know what I am, but what might I have been? What do such places make of a + man?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he gets stupidly used to them,” I said. “But I dare say too, + even then, that when you scratch the mere owner you find the perfect + lover.” + </p> + <p> + “What a perfect scene and background it forms!” my friend, however, had + meanwhile gone on. “What legends, what histories it knows! My heart really + breaks with all I seem to guess. There’s Tennyson’s Talking Oak! What + summer days one could spend here! How I could lounge the rest of my life + away on this turf of the middle ages! Haven’t I some maiden-cousin in that + old hall, or grange, or court—what in the name of enchantment do you + call the thing?—who would give me kind leave?” And then he turned + almost fiercely upon me. “Why did you bring me here? Why did you drag me + into this distraction of vain regrets?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment there passed within call a decent lad who had emerged from + the gardens and who might have been an underling in the stables. I hailed + him and put the question of our possible admittance to the house. He + answered that the master was away from home, but that he thought it + probable the housekeeper would consent to do the honours. I passed my arm + into Searle’s. “Come,” I said; “drain the cup, bitter-sweet though it be. + We must go in.” We hastened slowly and approached the fine front. The + house was one of the happiest fruits of its freshly-feeling era, a + multitudinous cluster of fair gables and intricate chimneys, brave + projections and quiet recesses, brown old surfaces weathered to silver and + mottled roofs that testified not to seasons but to centuries. Two broad + terraces commanded the wooded horizon. Our appeal was answered by a butler + who condescended to our weakness. He renewed the assertion that Mr. Searle + was away from home, but he would himself lay our case before the + housekeeper. We would be so good, however, as to give him our cards. This + request, following so directly on the assertion that Mr. Searle was + absent, was rather resented by my companion. “Surely not for the + housekeeper.” + </p> + <p> + The butler gave a diplomatic cough. “Miss Searle is at home, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours alone will have to serve,” said my friend. I took out a card and + pencil and wrote beneath my name <i>New York</i>. As I stood with the pencil + poised a temptation entered into it. Without in the least considering + proprieties or results I let my implement yield—I added above my + name that of Mr. Clement Searle. What would come of it? + </p> + <p> + Before many minutes the housekeeper waited upon us—a fresh rosy + little old woman in a clean dowdy cap and a scanty sprigged gown; a quaint + careful person, but accessible to the tribute of our pleasure, to say + nothing of any other. She had the accent of the country, but the manners + of the house. Under her guidance we passed through a dozen apartments, + duly stocked with old pictures, old tapestry, old carvings, old armour, + with a hundred ornaments and treasures. The pictures were especially + valuable. The two Vandykes, the trio of rosy Rubenses, the sole and sombre + Rembrandt, glowed with conscious authenticity. A Claude, a Murillo, a + Greuze, a couple of Gainsboroughs, hung there with high complacency. + Searle strolled about, scarcely speaking, pale and grave, with bloodshot + eyes and lips compressed. He uttered no comment on what we saw—he + asked but a question or two. Missing him at last from my side I retraced + my steps and found him in a room we had just left, on a faded old ottoman + and with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. Before + him, ranged on a great <i>crédence</i>, was a magnificent collection of old + Italian majolica; plates of every shape, with their glaze of happy colour, + jugs and vases nobly bellied and embossed. There seemed to rise before me, + as I looked, a sudden vision of the young English gentleman who, eighty + years ago, had travelled by slow stages to Italy and been waited on at his + inn by persuasive toymen. “What is it, my dear man?” I asked. “Are you + unwell?” + </p> + <p> + He uncovered his haggard face and showed me the flush of a consciousness + sharper, I think, to myself than to him. “A memory of the past! There + comes back to me a china vase that used to stand on the parlour + mantel-shelf when I was a boy, with a portrait of General Jackson painted + on one side and a bunch of flowers on the other. How long do you suppose + that majolica has been in the family?” + </p> + <p> + “A long time probably. It was brought hither in the last century, into + old, old England, out of old, old Italy, by some contemporary dandy with a + taste for foreign gimcracks. Here it has stood for a hundred years, + keeping its clear firm hues in this quiet light that has never sought to + advertise it.” + </p> + <p> + Searle sprang to his feet. “I say, for mercy’s sake, take me away! I can’t + stand this sort of thing. Before I know it I shall do something + scandalous. I shall steal some of their infernal crockery. I shall + proclaim my identity and assert my rights. I shall go blubbering to Miss + Searle and ask her in pity’s name to ‘put me up.’” + </p> + <p> + If he could ever have been said to threaten complications he rather + visibly did so now. I began to regret my officious presentation of his + name and prepared without delay to lead him out of the house. We overtook + the housekeeper in the last room of the series, a small unused boudoir + over whose chimney-piece hung a portrait of a young man in a powdered wig + and a brocaded waistcoat. I was struck with his resemblance to my + companion while our guide introduced him. “This is Mr. Clement Searle, Mr. + Searle’s great-uncle, by Sir Joshua Reynolds. He died young, poor + gentleman; he perished at sea, going to America.” + </p> + <p> + “He was the young buck who brought the majolica out of Italy,” I + supplemented. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir, I believe he did,” said the housekeeper without wonder. + </p> + <p> + “He’s the image of you, my dear Searle,” I further observed. + </p> + <p> + “He’s remarkably like the gentleman, saving his presence,” said the + housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + My friend stood staring. “Clement Searle—at sea—going to + America—?” he broke out. Then with some sharpness to our old woman: + “Why the devil did he go to America?” + </p> + <p> + “Why indeed, sir? You may well ask. I believe he had kinsfolk there. It + was for them to come to him.” + </p> + <p> + Searle broke into a laugh. “It was for them to come to him! Well, well,” + he said, fixing his eyes on our guide, “they’ve come to him at last!” + </p> + <p> + She blushed like a wrinkled rose-leaf. “Indeed, sir, I verily believe + you’re one of <i>us!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “My name’s the name of that beautiful youth,” Searle went on. “Dear + kinsman I’m happy to meet you! And what do you think of this?” he pursued + as he grasped me by the arm. “I have an idea. He perished at sea. His + spirit came ashore and wandered about in misery till it got another + incarnation—in this poor trunk!” And he tapped his hollow chest. + “Here it has rattled about these forty years, beating its wings against + its rickety cage, begging to be taken home again. And I never knew what + was the matter with me! Now at last the bruised spirit can escape!” + </p> + <p> + Our old lady gaped at a breadth of appreciation—if not at the + disclosure of a connexion—beyond her. The scene was really + embarrassing, and my confusion increased as we became aware of another + presence. A lady had appeared in the doorway and the housekeeper dropped + just audibly: “Miss Searle!” My first impression of Miss Searle was that + she was neither young nor beautiful. She stood without confidence on the + threshold, pale, trying to smile and twirling my card in her fingers. I + immediately bowed. Searle stared at her as if one of the pictures had + stepped out of its frame. + </p> + <p> + “If I’m not mistaken one of you gentlemen is Mr. Clement Searle,” the lady + adventured. + </p> + <p> + “My friend’s Mr. Clement Searle,” I took upon myself to reply. “Allow me + to add that I alone am responsible for your having received his name.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have been sorry not to—not to see him,” said Miss Searle, + beginning to blush. “Your being from America has led me—perhaps to + intrude!” + </p> + <p> + “The intrusion, madam, has been on our part. And with just that excuse—that + we come from so far away.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Searle, while I spoke, had fixed her eyes on my friend as he stood + silent beneath Sir Joshua’s portrait. The housekeeper, agitated and + mystified, fairly let herself go. “Heaven preserve us, Miss! It’s your + great-uncle’s picture come to life.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not mistaken then,” said Miss Searle—“we must be distantly + related.” She had the air of the shyest of women, for whom it was almost + anguish to make an advance without help. Searle eyed her with gentle + wonder from head to foot, and I could easily read his thoughts. This then + was his maiden-cousin, prospective mistress of these hereditary treasures. + She was of some thirty-five years of age, taller than was then common and + perhaps stouter than is now enjoined. She had small kind grey eyes, a + considerable quantity of very light-brown hair and a smiling well-formed + mouth. She was dressed in a lustreless black satin gown with a short + train. Disposed about her neck was a blue handkerchief, and over this + handkerchief, in many convolutions, a string of amber beads. Her + appearance was singular; she was large yet somehow vague, mature yet + undeveloped. Her manner of addressing us spoke of all sorts of deep + diffidences. Searle, I think, had prefigured to himself some proud cold + beauty of five-and-twenty; he was relieved at finding the lady timid and + not obtrusively fair. He at once had an excellent tone. + </p> + <p> + “We’re distant cousins, I believe. I’m happy to claim a relationship which + you’re so good as to remember. I hadn’t counted on your knowing anything + about me.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I’ve done wrong.” And Miss Searle blushed and smiled anew. “But + I’ve always known of there being people of our blood in America, and have + often wondered and asked about them—without ever learning much. + To-day, when this card was brought me and I understood a Clement Searle to + be under our roof as a stranger, I felt I ought to do something. But, you + know, I hardly knew what. My brother’s in London. I’ve done what I think + he would have done. Welcome as a cousin.” And with a resolution that + ceased to be awkward she put out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I’m welcome indeed if he would have done it half so graciously!” Again + Searle, taking her hand, acquitted himself beautifully. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve seen what there is, I think,” Miss Searle went on. “Perhaps now + you’ll have luncheon.” We followed her into a small breakfast-room where a + deep bay window opened on the mossy flags of a terrace. Here, for some + moments, she remained dumb and abashed, as if resting from a measurable + effort. Searle too had ceased to overflow, so that I had to relieve the + silence. It was of course easy to descant on the beauties of park and + mansion, and as I did so I observed our hostess. She had no arts, no + impulses nor graces—scarce even any manners; she was queerly, almost + frowsily dressed; yet she pleased me well. She had an antique sweetness, a + homely fragrance of old traditions. To be so simple, among those + complicated treasures, so pampered and yet so fresh, so modest and yet so + placid, told of just the spacious leisure in which Searle and I had + imagined human life to be steeped in such places as that. This figure was + to the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood what a fact is to a fairy-tale, an + interpretation to a myth. We, on our side, were to our hostess subjects of + a curiosity not cunningly veiled. + </p> + <p> + “I should like so to go abroad!” she exclaimed suddenly, as if she meant + us to take the speech for an expression of interest in ourselves. + </p> + <p> + “Have you never been?” one of us asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only once. Three years ago my brother took me to Switzerland. We thought + it extremely beautiful. Except for that journey I’ve always lived here. I + was born in this house. It’s a dear old place indeed, and I know it well. + Sometimes one wants a change.” And on my asking her how she spent her time + and what society she saw, “Of course it’s very quiet,” she went on, + proceeding by short steps and simple statements, in the manner of a person + called upon for the first time to analyse to that extent her situation. + “We see very few people. I don’t think there are many nice ones + hereabouts. At least we don’t know them. Our own family’s very small. My + brother cares for nothing but riding and books. He had a great sorrow ten + years ago. He lost his wife and his only son, a dear little boy, who of + course would have had everything. Do you know that that makes me the heir, + as they’ve done something—I don’t quite know what—to the + entail? Poor old me! Since his loss my brother has preferred to be quite + alone. I’m sorry he’s away. But you must wait till he comes back. I expect + him in a day or two.” She talked more and more, as if our very strangeness + led her on, about her circumstances, her solitude, her bad eyes, so that + she couldn’t read, her flowers, her ferns, her dogs, and the vicar, + recently presented to the living by her brother and warranted quite safe, + who had lately begun to light his altar candles; pausing every now and + then to gasp in self-surprise, yet, in the quaintest way in the world, + keeping up her story as if it were a slow rather awkward old-time dance, a + difficult <i>pas seul</i> in which she would have been better with more practice, + but of which she must complete the figure. Of all the old things I had + seen in England this exhibited mind of Miss Searle’s seemed to me the + oldest, the most handed down and taken for granted; fenced and protected + as it was by convention and precedent and usage, thoroughly acquainted + with its subordinate place. I felt as if I were talking with the heroine + of a last-century novel. As she talked she rested her dull eyes on her + kinsman with wondering kindness. At last she put it to him: “Did you mean + to go away without asking for us?” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought it over, Miss Searle, and had determined not to trouble + you. You’ve shown me how unfriendly I should have been.” + </p> + <p> + “But you knew of the place being ours, and of our relationship?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. It was because of these things that I came down here—because + of them almost that I came to England. I’ve always liked to think of + them,” said my companion. + </p> + <p> + “You merely wished to look then? We don’t pretend to be much to look at.” + </p> + <p> + He waited; her words were too strange. “You don’t know what you are, Miss + Searle.” + </p> + <p> + “You like the old place then?” + </p> + <p> + Searle looked at her again in silence. “If I could only tell you!” he said + at last. + </p> + <p> + “Do tell me. You must come and stay with us.” + </p> + <p> + It moved him to an oddity of mirth. “Take care, take care—I should + surprise you! I’m afraid I should bore you. I should never leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh you’d get homesick—for your real home!” + </p> + <p> + At this he was still more amused. “By the way, tell Miss Searle about our + real home,” he said to me. And he stepped, through the window, out upon + the terrace, followed by two beautiful dogs, a setter and a young + stag-hound who from the moment we came in had established the fondest + relation with him. Miss Searle looked at him, while he went, as if she + vaguely yearned over him; it began to be plain that she was interested in + her exotic cousin. I suddenly recalled the last words I had heard spoken + by my friend’s adviser in London and which, in a very crude form, had + reference to his making a match with this lady. If only Miss Searle could + be induced to think of that, and if one had but the tact to put it in a + light to her! Something assured me that her heart was virgin-soil, that + the flower of romantic affection had never bloomed there. If I might just + sow the seed! There seemed to shape itself within her the perfect image of + one of the patient wives of old. + </p> + <p> + “He has lost his heart to England,” I said. “He ought to have been born + here.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet he doesn’t look in the least an Englishman,” she still rather + guardedly prosed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh it isn’t his looks, poor fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course looks aren’t everything. I never talked with a foreigner + before; but he talks as I have fancied foreigners.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he’s foreign enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he married?” + </p> + <p> + “His wife’s dead and he’s all alone in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he much property?” + </p> + <p> + “None to speak of.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has means to travel.” + </p> + <p> + I meditated. “He has not expected to travel far,” I said at last. “You + know, he’s in very poor health.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor gentleman! So I supposed.” + </p> + <p> + “But there’s more of him to go on with than he thinks. He came here + because he wanted to see your place before he dies.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me—kind man!” And I imagined in the quiet eyes the hint of a + possible tear. “And he was going away without my seeing him?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s very modest, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s very much the gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + I couldn’t but smile. “He’s <i>all</i>—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment we heard on the terrace a loud harsh cry. “It’s the great + peacock!” said Miss Searle, stepping to the window and passing out while I + followed her. Below us, leaning on the parapet, stood our appreciative + friend with his arm round the neck of the setter. Before him on the grand + walk strutted the familiar fowl of gardens—a splendid specimen—with + ruffled neck and expanded tail. The other dog had apparently indulged in a + momentary attempt to abash the gorgeous biped, but at Searle’s summons had + bounded back to the terrace and leaped upon the ledge, where he now stood + licking his new friend’s face. The scene had a beautiful old-time air: the + peacock flaunting in the foreground like the genius of stately places; the + broad terrace, which flattered an innate taste of mine for all deserted + walks where people may have sat after heavy dinners to drink coffee in old + Sevres and where the stiff brocade of women’s dresses may have rustled + over grass or gravel; and far around us, with one leafy circle melting + into another, the timbered acres of the park. “The very beasts have made + him welcome,” I noted as we rejoined our companion. + </p> + <p> + “The peacock has done for you, Mr. Searle,” said his cousin, “what he does + only for very great people. A year ago there came here a great person—a + grand old lady—to see my brother. I don’t think that since then he + has spread his tail as wide for any one else—not by a dozen + feathers.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not alone the peacock,” said Searle. “Just now there came slipping + across my path a little green lizard, the first I ever saw, the lizard of + literature! And if you’ve a ghost, broad daylight though it be, I expect + to see him here. Do you know the annals of your house, Miss Searle?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, no! You must ask my brother for all those things.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to have a collection of legends and traditions. You ought to + have loves and murders and mysteries by the roomful. I shall be ashamed of + you if you haven’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh Mr. Searle! We’ve always been a very well-behaved family,” she quite + seriously pleaded. “Nothing out of the way has ever happened, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing out of the way? Oh that won’t do! We’ve managed better than that + in America. Why I myself!”—and he looked at her ruefully enough, but + enjoying too his idea that he might embody the social scandal or point to + the darkest drama of the Searles. “Suppose I should turn out a better + Searle than you—better than you nursed here in romance and + extravagance? Come, don’t disappoint me. You’ve some history among you + all, you’ve some poetry, you’ve some accumulation of legend. I’ve been + famished all my days for these things. Don’t you understand? Ah you can’t + understand! Tell me,” he rambled on, “something tremendous. When I think + of what must have happened here; of the lovers who must have strolled on + this terrace and wandered under the beeches, of all the figures and + passions and purposes that must have haunted these walls! When I think of + the births and deaths, the joys and sufferings, the young hopes and the + old regrets, the rich experience of life—!” He faltered a moment + with the increase of his agitation. His humour of dismay at a threat of + the commonplace in the history he felt about him had turned to a deeper + reaction. I began to fear however that he was really losing his head. He + went on with a wilder play. “To see it all called up there before me, if + the Devil alone could do it I’d make a bargain with the Devil! Ah Miss + Searle,” he cried, “I’m a most unhappy man!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, oh dear!” she almost wailed while I turned half away. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that window, that dear little window!” I turned back to see him + point to a small protruding oriel, above us, relieved against the purple + brickwork, framed in chiselled stone and curtained with ivy. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my little room,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it’s a woman’s room. Think of all the dear faces—all of + them so mild and yet so proud—that have looked out of that lattice, + and of all the old-time women’s lives whose principal view of the world + has been this quiet park! Every one of them was a cousin of mine. And you, + dear lady, you’re one of them yet.” With which he marched toward her and + took her large white hand. She surrendered it, blushing to her eyes and + pressing her other hand to her breast. “You’re a woman of the past. You’re + nobly simple. It has been a romance to see you. It doesn’t matter what I + say to you. You didn’t know me yesterday, you’ll not know me to-morrow. + Let me to-day do a mad sweet thing. Let me imagine in you the spirit of + all the dead women who have trod the terrace-flags that lie here like + sepulchral tablets in the pavement of a church. Let me say I delight in + you!”—he raised her hand to his lips. She gently withdrew it and for + a moment averted her face. Meeting her eyes the next instant I saw the + tears had come. The Sleeping Beauty was awake. + </p> + <p> + There followed an embarrassed pause. An issue was suddenly presented by + the appearance of the butler bearing a letter. “A telegram, Miss,” he + announced. + </p> + <p> + “Oh what shall I do?” cried Miss Searle. “I can’t open a telegram. Cousin, + help me.” + </p> + <p> + Searle took the missive, opened it and read aloud: “<i>I shall be home to + dinner. Keep the American.</i>” + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + + <h2><a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"></a> + III + </h2> + <p> + “Keep the American!” Miss Searle, in compliance with the injunction + conveyed in her brother’s telegram (with something certainly of + telegraphic curtness), lost no time in expressing the pleasure it would + give her that our friend should remain. “Really you must,” she said; and + forthwith repaired to the house-keeper to give orders for the preparation + of a room. + </p> + <p> + “But how in the world did he know of my being here?” my companion put to + me. + </p> + <p> + I answered that he had probably heard from his solicitor of the other’s + visit. “Mr. Simmons and that gentleman must have had another interview + since your arrival in England. Simmons, for reasons of his own, has made + known to him your journey to this neighbourhood, and Mr. Searle, learning + this, has immediately taken for granted that you’ve formally presented + yourself to his sister. He’s hospitably inclined and wishes her to do the + proper thing by you. There may even,” I went on, “be more in it than that. + I’ve my little theory that he’s the very phoenix of usurpers, that he has + been very much struck with what the experts have had to say for you, and + that he wishes to have the originality of making over to you your share—so + limited after all—of the estate.” + </p> + <p> + “I give it up!” my friend mused. “Come what come will!” + </p> + <p> + “You, of course,” said Miss Searle, reappearing and turning to me, “are + included in my brother’s invitation. I’ve told them to see about a room + for you. Your luggage shall immediately be sent for.” + </p> + <p> + It was arranged that I in person should be driven over to our little inn + and that I should return with our effects in time to meet Mr. Searle at + dinner. On my arrival several hours later I was immediately conducted to + my room. The servant pointed out to me that it communicated by a door and + a private passage with that of my fellow visitor. I made my way along this + passage—a low narrow corridor with a broad latticed casement through + which there streamed upon a series of grotesquely sculptured oaken closets + and cupboards the vivid animating glow of the western sun—knocked at + his door and, getting no answer, opened it. In an armchair by the open + window sat my friend asleep, his arms and legs relaxed and head dropped on + his breast. It was a great relief to see him rest thus from his + rhapsodies, and I watched him for some moments before waking him. There + was a faint glow of colour in his cheek and a light expressive parting of + his lips, something nearer to ease and peace than I had yet seen in him. + It was almost happiness, it was almost health. I laid my hand on his arm + and gently shook it. He opened his eyes, gazed at me a moment, vaguely + recognised me, then closed them again. “Let me dream, let me dream!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you dreaming about?” + </p> + <p> + A moment passed before his answer came. “About a tall woman in a quaint + black dress, with yellow hair and a sweet, sweet smile, and a soft low + delicious voice! I’m in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s better to see her than to dream about her,” I said. “Get up and + dress; then we’ll go down to dinner and meet her.” + </p> + <p> + “Dinner—dinner—?” And he gradually opened his eyes again. + “Yes, upon my word I shall dine!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh you’re all right!” I declared for the twentieth time as he rose to his + feet. “You’ll live to bury Mr. Simmons.” He told me he had spent the hours + of my absence with Miss Searle—they had strolled together half over + the place. “You must be very intimate,” I smiled. + </p> + <p> + “She’s intimate with <i>me</i>. Goodness knows what rigmarole I’ve treated her + to!” They had parted an hour ago; since when, he believed, her brother had + arrived. + </p> + <p> + The slow-fading twilight was still in the great drawing-room when we came + down. The housekeeper had told us this apartment was rarely used, there + being others, smaller and more convenient, for the same needs. It seemed + now, however, to be occupied in my comrade’s honour. At the furthest end, + rising to the roof like a royal tomb in a cathedral, was a great + chimney-piece of chiselled white marble, yellowed by time, in which a + light fire was crackling. Before the fire stood a small short man, with + his hands behind him; near him was Miss Searle, so transformed by her + dress that at first I scarcely knew her. There was in our entrance and + reception something remarkably chilling and solemn. We moved in silence up + the long room; Mr. Searle advanced slowly, a dozen steps, to meet us; his + sister stood motionless. I was conscious of her masking her visage with a + large white tinselled fan, and that her eyes, grave and enlarged, watched + us intently over the top of it. The master of Lackley grasped in silence + the proffered hand of his kinsman and eyed him from head to foot, + suppressing, I noted, a start of surprise at his resemblance to Sir + Joshua’s portrait. “This is a happy day.” And then turning to me with an + odd little sharp stare: “My cousin’s friend is my friend.” Miss Searle + lowered her fan. + </p> + <p> + The first thing that struck me in Mr. Searle’s appearance was his very + limited stature, which was less by half a head than that of his sister. + The second was the preternatural redness of his hair and beard. They + intermingled over his ears and surrounded his head like a huge lurid + nimbus. His face was pale and attenuated, the face of a scholar, a + dilettante, a comparer of points and texts, a man who lives in a library + bending over books and prints and medals. At a distance it might have + passed for smooth and rather blankly composed; but on a nearer view it + revealed a number of wrinkles, sharply etched and scratched, of a + singularly aged and refined effect. It was the complexion of a man of + sixty. His nose was arched and delicate, identical almost with the nose of + my friend. His eyes, large and deep-set, had a kind of auburn glow, the + suggestion of a keen metal red-hot—or, more plainly, were full of + temper and spirit. Imagine this physiognomy—grave and solemn, + grotesquely solemn, in spite of the bushy brightness which made a sort of + frame for it—set in motion by a queer, quick, defiant, perfunctory, + preoccupied smile, and you will have an imperfect notion of the remarkable + presence of our host; something better worth seeing and knowing, I + perceived as I quite breathlessly took him in, than anything we had yet + encountered. How thoroughly I had entered into sympathy with my poor + picked-up friend, and how effectually I had associated my sensibilities + with his own, I had not suspected till, within the short five minutes + before the signal for dinner, I became aware, without his giving me the + least hint, of his placing himself on the defensive. To neither of us was + Mr. Searle sympathetic. I might have guessed from her attitude that his + sister entered into our thoughts. A marked change had been wrought in her + since the morning; during the hour, indeed—as I read in the light of + the wondering glance he cast at her—that had elapsed since her + parting with her cousin. She had not yet recovered from some great + agitation. Her face was pale and she had clearly been crying. These notes + of trouble gave her a new and quite perverse dignity, which was further + enhanced by something complimentary and commemorative in her dress. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was taste or whether it was accident I know not; but the + amiable creature, as she stood there half in the cool twilight, half in + the arrested glow of the fire as it spent itself in the vastness of its + marble cave, was a figure for a painter. She was habited in some faded + splendour of sea-green crape and silk, a piece of millinery which, though + it must have witnessed a number of dull dinners, preserved still a festive + air. Over her white shoulders she wore an ancient web of the most precious + and venerable lace and about her rounded throat a single series of large + pearls. I went in with her to dinner, and Mr. Searle, following with my + friend, took his arm, as the latter afterwards told me, and pretended + jocosely to conduct him. As dinner proceeded the feeling grew within me + that a drama had begun to be played in which the three persons before me + were actors—each of a really arduous part. The character allotted to + my friend, however, was certainly the least easy to represent with effect, + though I overflowed with the desire that he should acquit himself to his + honour. I seemed to see him urge his faded faculties to take their cue and + perform. The poor fellow tried to do himself credit more seriously than + ever in his old best days. With Miss Searle, credulous passive and + pitying, he had finally flung aside all vanity and propriety and shown the + bottom of his fantastic heart. But with our host there might be no talking + of nonsense nor taking of liberties; there and then, if ever, sat a + consummate conservative, breathing the fumes of hereditary privilege and + security. For an hour, accordingly, I saw my poor protege attempt, all in + pain, to meet a new decorum. He set himself the task of appearing very + American, in order that his appreciation of everything Mr. Searle + represented might seem purely disinterested. What his kinsman had expected + him to be I know not; but I made Mr. Searle out as annoyed, in spite of + his exaggerated urbanity, at finding him so harmless. Our host was not the + man to show his hand, but I think his best card had been a certain + implicit confidence that so provincial a parasite would hardly have good + manners. + </p> + <p> + He led the conversation to the country we had left; rather as if a leash + had been attached to the collar of some lumpish and half-domesticated + animal the tendency of whose movements had to be recognised. He spoke of + it indeed as of some fabled planet, alien to the British orbit, lately + proclaimed to have the admixture of atmospheric gases required to support + animal life, but not, save under cover of a liberal afterthought, to be + admitted into one’s regular conception of things. I, for my part, felt + nothing but regret that the spheric smoothness of his universe should be + disfigured by the extrusion even of such inconsiderable particles as + ourselves. + </p> + <p> + “I knew in a general way of our having somehow ramified over there,” Mr. + Searle mentioned; “but had scarcely followed it more than you pretend to + pick up the fruit your long-armed pear tree may drop, on the other side of + your wall, in your neighbour’s garden. There was a man I knew at + Cambridge, a very odd fellow, a decent fellow too; he and I were rather + cronies; I think he afterwards went to the Middle States. They’ll be, I + suppose, about the Mississippi? At all events, there was that great-uncle + of mine whom Sir Joshua painted. He went to America, but he never got + there. He was lost at sea. You look enough like him to make one fancy he + <i>did</i> get there and that you’ve kept him alive by one of those beastly + processes—I think you have ‘em over there: what do you call it, + ‘putting up’ things? If you’re he you’ve not done a wise thing to show + yourself here. He left a bad name behind him. There’s a ghost who comes + sobbing about the house every now and then, the ghost of one to whom he + did a wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh mercy <i>on</i> us!” cried Miss Searle in simple horror. + </p> + <p> + “Of course <i>you</i> know nothing of such things,” he rather dryly allowed. + “You’re too sound a sleeper to hear the sobbing of ghosts.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I should like immensely to hear the sobbing of a ghost,” said my + friend, the light of his previous eagerness playing up into his eyes. “Why + does it sob? I feel as if that were what we’ve come above all to learn.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle eyed his audience a moment gaugingly; he held the balance as to + measure his resources. He wished to do justice to his theme. With the long + finger-nails of his left hand nervously playing against the tinkling + crystal of his wineglass and his conscious eyes betraying that, small and + strange as he sat there, he knew himself, to his pleasure and advantage, + remarkably impressive, he dropped into our untutored minds the sombre + legend of his house. “Mr. Clement Searle, from all I gather, was a young + man of great talents but a weak disposition. His mother was left a widow + early in life, with two sons, of whom he was the elder and the more + promising. She educated him with the greatest affection and care. Of + course when he came to manhood she wished him to marry well. His means + were quite sufficient to enable him to overlook the want of money in his + wife; and Mrs. Searle selected a young lady who possessed, as she + conceived, every good gift save a fortune—a fine proud handsome + girl, the daughter of an old friend, an old lover I suspect, of her own. + Clement, however, as it appeared, had either chosen otherwise or was as + yet unprepared to choose. The young lady opened upon him in vain the + battery of her attractions; in vain his mother urged her cause. Clement + remained cold, insensible, inflexible. Mrs. Searle had a character which + appears to have gone out of fashion in my family nowadays; she was a great + manager, a <i>maîtresse-femme</i>. A proud passionate imperious woman, she had + had immense cares and ever so many law-suits; they had sharpened her + temper and her will. She suspected that her son’s affections had another + object, and this object she began to hate. Irritated by his stubborn + defiance of her wishes she persisted in her purpose. The more she watched + him the more she was convinced he loved in secret. If he loved in secret + of course he loved beneath him. He went about the place all sombre and + sullen and brooding. At last, with the rashness of an angry woman, she + threatened to bring the young lady of her choice—who, by the way, + seems to have been no shrinking blossom—to stay in the house. A + stormy scene was the result. He threatened that if she did so he would + leave the country and sail for America. She probably disbelieved him; she + knew him to be weak, but she overrated his weakness. At all events the + rejected one arrived and Clement Searle departed. On a dark December day + he took ship at Southampton. The two women, desperate with rage and + sorrow, sat alone in this big house, mingling their tears and + imprecations. A fortnight later, on Christmas Eve, in the midst of a great + snowstorm long famous in the country, something happened that quickened + their bitterness. A young woman, battered and chilled by the storm, gained + entrance to the house and, making her way into the presence of the + mistress and her guest, poured out her tale. She was a poor curate’s + daughter out of some little hole in Gloucestershire. Clement Searle had + loved her—loved her all too well! She had been turned out in wrath + from her father’s house; his mother at least might pity her—if not + for herself then for the child she was soon to bring forth. But the poor + girl had been a second time too trustful. The women, in scorn, in horror, + with blows possibly, drove her forth again into the storm. In the storm + she wandered and in the deep snow she died. Her lover, as you know, + perished in that hard winter weather at sea; the news came to his mother + late, but soon enough. We’re haunted by the curate’s daughter!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle retailed this anecdote with infinite taste and point, the + happiest art; when he ceased there was a pause of some moments. “Ah well + we may be!” Miss Searle then mournfully murmured. + </p> + <p> + Searle blazed up into enthusiasm. “Of course, you know”—with which + he began to blush violently—“I should be sorry to claim any identity + with the poor devil my faithless namesake. But I should be immensely + gratified if the young lady’s spirit, deceived by my resemblance, were to + mistake me for her cruel lover. She’s welcome to the comfort of it. What + one can do in the case I shall be glad to do. But can a ghost haunt a + ghost? I <i>am</i> a ghost!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle stared a moment and then had a subtle sneer. “I could almost + believe you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh brother—and cousin!” cried Miss Searle with the gentlest yet + most appealing dignity. “How can you talk so horribly?” The horrible talk, + however, evidently possessed a potent magic for my friend; and his + imagination, checked a while by the influence of his kinsman, began again + to lead him a dance. From this moment he ceased to steer his frail bark, + to care what he said or how he said it, so long as he expressed his + passionate appreciation of the scene around him. As he kept up this strain + I ceased even secretly to wish he wouldn’t. I have wondered since that I + shouldn’t have been annoyed by the way he reverted constantly to himself. + But a great frankness, for the time, makes its own law and a great passion + its own channel. There was moreover an irresponsible indescribable effect + of beauty in everything his lips uttered. Free alike from adulation and + from envy, the essence of his discourse was a divine apprehension, a + romantic vision free as the flight of Ariel, of the poetry of his + companions’ situation and their contrasted general irresponsiveness. + </p> + <p> + “How does the look of age come?” he suddenly broke out at dessert. “Does + it come of itself, unobserved, unrecorded, unmeasured? Or do you woo it + and set baits and traps for it, and watch it like the dawning brownness of + a meerschaum pipe, and make it fast, when it appears, just where it peeps + out, and light a votive taper beneath it and give thanks to it daily? Or + do you forbid it and fight it and resist it, and yet feel it settling and + deepening about you as irresistible as fate?” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce is the man talking about?” said the smile of our host. + </p> + <p> + “I found a little grey hair this morning,” Miss Searle incoherently + prosed. + </p> + <p> + “Well then I hope you paid it every respect!” cried her visitor. + </p> + <p> + “I looked at it for a long time in my hand-glass,” she answered with more + presence of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Searle can for many years to come afford to be amused at grey + hairs,” I interposed in the hope of some greater ease. It had its effect. + “Ten years from last Thursday I shall be forty-four,” she almost + comfortably smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s just what I am,” said Searle. “If I had only come here ten + years ago! I should have had more time to enjoy the feast, but I should + have had less appetite. I needed first to get famished.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh why did you wait for that?” his entertainer asked. “To think of these + ten years that we might have been enjoying you!” At the vision of which + waste and loss Mr. Searle had a fine shrill laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” my friend explained, “I always had a notion—a stupid vulgar + notion if there ever was one—that to come abroad properly one had to + have a pot of money. My pot was too nearly empty. At last I came with my + empty pot!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle had a wait for delicacy, but he proceeded. “You’re reduced, + you’re—a—straitened?” + </p> + <p> + Our companion’s very breath blew away the veil. “Reduced to nothing. + Straitened to the clothes on my back!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so!” said Mr. Searle with a large vague gasp. “Well—well—well!” + he added in a voice which might have meant everything or nothing; and + then, in his whimsical way, went on to finish a glass of wine. His + searching eye, as he drank, met mine, and for a moment we each rather + deeply sounded the other, to the effect no doubt of a slight + embarrassment. “And you,” he said by way of carrying this off—“how + about <i>your</i> wardrobe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh his!” cried my friend; “his wardrobe’s immense. He could dress up a + regiment!” He had drunk more champagne—I admit that the champagne + was good—than was from any point of view to have been desired. He + was rapidly drifting beyond any tacit dissuasion of mine. He was feverish + and rash, and all attempt to direct would now simply irritate him. As we + rose from the table he caught my troubled look. Passing his arm for a + moment into mine, “This is the great night!” he strangely and softly said; + “the night and the crisis that will settle me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle had caused the whole lower portion of the house to be thrown + open and a multitude of lights to be placed in convenient and effective + positions. Such a marshalled wealth of ancient candlesticks and flambeaux + I had never beheld. Niched against the dusky wainscots, casting great + luminous circles upon the pendent stiffness of sombre tapestries, + enhancing and completing with admirable effect the variety and mystery of + the great ancient house, they seemed to people the wide rooms, as our + little group passed slowly from one to another, with a dim expectant + presence. We had thus, in spite of everything, a wonderful hour of it. Mr. + Searle at once assumed the part of cicerone, and—I had not hitherto + done him justice—Mr. Searle became almost agreeable. While I + lingered behind with his sister he walked in advance with his kinsman. It + was as if he had said: “Well, if you want the old place you shall have it—so + far as the impression goes!” He spared us no thrill—I had almost + said no pang—of that experience. Carrying a tall silver candlestick + in his left hand, he raised it and lowered it and cast the light hither + and thither, upon pictures and hangings and carvings and cornices. He knew + his house to perfection. He touched upon a hundred traditions and + memories, he threw off a cloud of rich reference to its earlier occupants. + He threw off again, in his easy elegant way, a dozen—happily lighter—anecdotes. + His relative attended with a brooding deference. Miss Searle and I + meanwhile were not wholly silent. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that by this time you and your cousin are almost old friends,” + I remarked. + </p> + <p> + She trifled a moment with her fan and then raised her kind small eyes. + “Old friends—yet at the same time strangely new! My cousin, my + cousin”—and her voice lingered on the word—“it seems so + strange to call him my cousin after thinking these many years that I’ve no + one in the world but my brother. But he’s really so very odd!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not so much he as—well, as his situation, that deserves that + name,” I tried to reason. + </p> + <p> + “I’m so sorry for his situation. I wish I could help it in some way. He + interests me so much.” She gave a sweet-sounding sigh. “I wish I could + have known him sooner—and better. He tells me he’s but the shadow of + what he used to be.” + </p> + <p> + I wondered if he had been consciously practising on the sensibilities of + this gentle creature. If he had I believed he had gained his point. But + his position had in fact become to my sense so precarious that I hardly + ventured to be glad. “His better self just now seems again to be taking + shape,” I said. “It will have been a good deed on your part if you help to + restore him to all he ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + She met my idea blankly. “Dear me, what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Be a friend to him. Let him like you, let him love you. I dare say you + see in him now much to pity and to wonder at. But let him simply enjoy a + while the grateful sense of your nearness and dearness. He’ll be a better + and stronger man for it, and then you can love him, you can esteem him, + without restriction.” + </p> + <p> + She fairly frowned for helplessness. “It’s a hard part for poor stupid me + to play!” + </p> + <p> + Her almost infantine innocence left me no choice but to be absolutely + frank. “Did you ever play any part at all?” + </p> + <p> + She blushed as if I had been reproaching her with her insignificance. + “Never! I think I’ve hardly lived.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve begun to live now perhaps. You’ve begun to care for something else + than your old-fashioned habits. Pardon me if I seem rather meddlesome; you + know we Americans are very rough and ready. It’s a great moment. I wish + you joy!” + </p> + <p> + “I could almost believe you’re laughing at me. I feel more trouble than + joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you feel trouble?” + </p> + <p> + She paused with her eyes fixed on our companions. “My cousin’s arrival’s a + great disturbance,” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you did wrong in coming to meet him? In that case the fault’s + mine. He had no intention of giving you the opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly took too much on myself. But I can’t find it in my heart to + regret it. I never shall regret it! I did the only thing I <i>could</i>, heaven + forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven bless you, Miss Searle! Is any harm to come of it? I did the evil; + let me bear the brunt!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head gravely. “You don’t know my brother!” + </p> + <p> + “The sooner I master the subject the better then,” I said. I couldn’t help + relieving myself—at least by the tone of my voice—of the + antipathy with which, decidedly, this gentleman had inspired me. “Not + perhaps that we should get on so well together!” After which, as she + turned away, “Are you <i>very</i> much afraid of him?” I added. + </p> + <p> + She gave me a shuddering sidelong glance. “He’s looking at me!” + </p> + <p> + He was placed with his back to us, holding a large Venetian hand-mirror, + framed in chiselled silver, which he had taken from a shelf of + antiquities, just at such an angle that he caught the reflexion of his + sister’s person. It was evident that I too was under his attention, and + was resolved I wouldn’t be suspected for nothing. “Miss Searle,” I said + with urgency, “promise me something.” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon me with a start and a look that seemed to beg me to spare + her. “Oh don’t ask me—please don’t!” It was as if she were standing + on the edge of a place where the ground had suddenly fallen away, and had + been called upon to make a leap. I felt retreat was impossible, however, + and that it was the greater kindness to assist her to jump. + </p> + <p> + “Promise me,” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + Still with her eyes she protested. “Oh what a dreadful day!” she cried at + last. + </p> + <p> + “Promise me to let him speak to you alone if he should ask you—any + wish you may suspect on your brother’s part notwithstanding.” She coloured + deeply. “You mean he has something so particular to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Something so particular!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor cousin!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, poor cousin! But promise me.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” she said, and moved away across the long room and out of the + door. + </p> + <p> + “You’re in time to hear the most delightful story,” Searle began to me as + I rejoined him and his host. They were standing before an old sombre + portrait of a lady in the dress of Queen Anne’s time, whose ill-painted + flesh-tints showed livid, in the candle-light, against her dark drapery + and background. “This is Mrs. Margaret Searle—a sort of Beatrix + Esmond—<i>qui se passait ses fantaisies</i>. She married a paltry + Frenchman, a penniless fiddler, in the teeth of her whole family. Pretty + Mrs. Margaret, you must have been a woman of courage! Upon my word, she + looks like Miss Searle! But pray go on. What came of it all?” + </p> + <p> + Our companion watched him with an air of distaste for his boisterous + homage and of pity for his crude imagination. But he took up the tale with + an effective dryness: “I found a year ago, in a box of very old papers, a + letter from the lady in question to a certain Cynthia Searle, her elder + sister. It was dated from Paris and dreadfully ill-spelled. It contained a + most passionate appeal for pecuniary assistance. She had just had a baby, + she was starving and dreadfully neglected by her husband—she cursed + the day she had left England. It was a most dismal production. I never + heard she found means to return.” + </p> + <p> + “So much for marrying a Frenchman!” I said sententiously. + </p> + <p> + Our host had one of his waits. “This is the only lady of the family who + ever was taken in by an adventurer.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Miss Searle know her history?” asked my friend with a stare at the + rounded whiteness of the heroine’s cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Searle knows nothing!” said our host with expression. + </p> + <p> + “She shall know at least the tale of Mrs. Margaret,” their guest returned; + and he walked rapidly away in search of her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle and I pursued our march through the lighted rooms. “You’ve + found a cousin with a vengeance,” I doubtless awkwardly enough laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah a vengeance?” my entertainer stiffly repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that he takes as keen an interest in your annals and possessions + as yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh exactly so! He tells me he’s a bad invalid,” he added in a moment. “I + should never have supposed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Within the past few hours he’s a changed man. Your beautiful house, your + extreme kindness, have refreshed him immensely.” Mr. Searle uttered the + vague ejaculation with which self-conscious Britons so often betray the + concussion of any especial courtesy of speech. But he followed this by a + sudden odd glare and the sharp declaration: “I’m an honest man!” I was + quite prepared to assent; but he went on with a fury of frankness, as if + it were the first time in his life he had opened himself to any one, as if + the process were highly disagreeable and he were hurrying through it as a + task. “An honest man, mind you! I know nothing about Mr. Clement Searle! I + never expected to see him. He has been to me a—a—!” And here + he paused to select a word which should vividly enough express what, for + good or for ill, his kinsman represented. “He has been to me an Amazement! + I’ve no doubt he’s a most amiable man. You’ll not deny, however, that he’s + a very extraordinary sort of person. I’m sorry he’s ill. I’m sorry he’s + poor. He’s my fiftieth cousin. Well and good. I’m an honest man. He shall + not have it to say that he wasn’t received at my house.” + </p> + <p> + “He too, thank heaven, is an honest man!” I smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil then,” cried Mr. Searle, turning almost fiercely on me, + “has he put forward this underhand claim to my property?” + </p> + <p> + The question, quite ringing out, flashed backward a gleam of light upon + the demeanour of our host and the suppressed agitation of his sister. In + an instant the jealous gentleman revealed itself. For a moment I was so + surprised and scandalised at the directness of his attack that I lacked + words to reply. As soon as he had spoken indeed Mr. Searle appeared to + feel he had been wanting in form. “Pardon me,” he began afresh, “if I + speak of this matter with heat. But I’ve been more disgusted than I can + say to hear, as I heard this morning from my solicitor, of the + extraordinary proceedings of Mr. Clement Searle. Gracious goodness, sir, + for what does the man take me? He pretends to the Lord knows what + fantastic admiration for my place. Let him then show his respect for it by + not taking too many liberties! Let him, with his high-flown parade of + loyalty, imagine a tithe of what <i>I</i> feel! I love my estate; it’s my + passion, my conscience, my life! Am I to divide it up at this time of day + with a beggarly foreigner—a man without means, without appearance, + without proof, a pretender, an adventurer, a chattering mountebank? I + thought America boasted having lands for all men! Upon my soul, sir, I’ve + never been so shocked in my life.” + </p> + <p> + I paused for some moments before speaking, to allow his passion fully to + expend itself and to flicker up again if it chose; for so far as I was + concerned in the whole awkward matter I but wanted to deal with him + discreetly. “Your apprehensions, sir,” I said at last, “your not unnatural + surprise, perhaps, at the candour of our interest, have acted too much on + your nerves. You’re attacking a man of straw, a creature of unworthy + illusion; though I’m sadly afraid you’ve wounded a man of spirit and + conscience. Either my friend has no valid claim on your estate, in which + case your agitation is superfluous; or he <i>has</i> a valid claim—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle seized my arm and glared at me; his pale face paler still with + the horror of my suggestion, his great eyes of alarm glowing and his + strange red hair erect and quivering. “A valid claim!” he shouted. “Let + him try it—let him bring it into court!” + </p> + <p> + We had emerged into the great hall and stood facing the main doorway. The + door was open into the portico, through the stone archway of which I saw + the garden glitter in the blue light of a full moon. As the master of the + house uttered the words I have just repeated my companion came slowly up + into the porch from without, bareheaded, bright in the outer moonlight, + dark in the shadow of the archway, and bright again in the lamplight at + the entrance of the hall. As he crossed the threshold the butler made an + appearance at the head of the staircase on our left, faltering visibly a + moment at sight of Mr. Searle; after which, noting my friend, he gravely + descended. He bore in his hand a small silver tray. On the tray, gleaming + in the light of the suspended lamp, lay a folded note. Clement Searle came + forward, staring a little and startled, I think, by some quick nervous + prevision of a catastrophe. The butler applied the match to the train. He + advanced to my fellow visitor, all solemnly, with the offer of his + missive. Mr. Searle made a movement as if to spring forward, but + controlled himself. “Tottenham!” he called in a strident voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” said Tottenham, halting. + </p> + <p> + “Stand where you are. For whom is that note?” + </p> + <p> + “For Mr. Clement Searle,” said the butler, staring straight before him and + dissociating himself from everything. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Horridge, sir.” This personage, I afterwards learned, was our friend + the housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave it Mrs. Horridge?” + </p> + <p> + There was on Tottenham’s part just an infinitesimal pause before replying. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” broke in Searle, his equilibrium, his ancient ease, + completely restored by the crisis, “isn’t that rather my business?” + </p> + <p> + “What happens in my house is my business, and detestable things seem to be + happening.” Our host, it was clear, now so furiously detested them that I + was afraid he would snatch the bone of contention without more ceremony. + “Bring me that thing!” he cried; on which Tottenham stiffly moved to obey. + </p> + <p> + “Really this is too much!” broke out my companion, affronted and helpless. + </p> + <p> + So indeed it struck me, and before Mr. Searle had time to take the note I + possessed myself of it. “If you’ve no consideration for your sister let a + stranger at least act for her.” And I tore the disputed object into a + dozen pieces. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of decency, what does this horrid business mean?” my + companion quavered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Searle was about to open fire on him, but at that moment our hostess + appeared on the staircase, summoned evidently by our high-pitched + contentious voices. She had exchanged her dinner-dress for a dark wrapper, + removed her ornaments and begun to disarrange her hair, a thick tress of + which escaped from the comb. She hurried down with a pale questioning + face. Feeling distinctly that, for ourselves, immediate departure was in + the air, and divining Mr. Tottenham to be a person of a few deep-seated + instincts and of much latent energy, I seized the opportunity to request + him, <i>sotto voce</i>, to send a carriage to the door without delay. “And put up + our things,” I added. + </p> + <p> + Our host rushed at his sister and grabbed the white wrist that escaped + from the loose sleeve of her dress. “What was in that note?” he quite + hissed at her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Searle looked first at its scattered fragments and then at her + cousin. “Did you read it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I thank you for it!” said Searle. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes, for an instant, communicated with his own as I think they had + never, never communicated with any other source of meaning; then she + transferred them to her brother’s face, where the sense went out of them, + only to leave a dull sad patience. But there was something even in this + flat humility that seemed to him to mock him, so that he flushed crimson + with rage and spite and flung her away. “You always were an idiot! Go to + bed.” + </p> + <p> + In poor Searle’s face as well the gathered serenity had been by this time + all blighted and distorted and the reflected brightness of his happy day + turned to blank confusion. “Have I been dealing these three hours with a + madman?” he woefully cried. + </p> + <p> + “A madman, yes, if you will! A man mad with the love of his home and the + sense of its stability. I’ve held my tongue till now, but you’ve been too + much for me. Who the devil are you, and what and why and whence?” the + terrible little man continued. “From what paradise of fools do you come + that you fancy I shall make over to you, for the asking, a part of my + property and my life? I’m forsooth, you ridiculous person, to go shares + with you? Prove your preposterous claim! There isn’t <i>that</i> in it!” And he + kicked one of the bits of paper on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Searle received this broadside gaping. Then turning away he went and + seated himself on a bench against the wall and rubbed his forehead + amazedly. I looked at my watch and listened for the wheels of our + carriage. + </p> + <p> + But his kinsman was too launched to pull himself up. “Wasn’t it enough + that you should have plotted against my rights? Need you have come into my + very house to intrigue with my sister?” + </p> + <p> + My friend put his two hands to his face. “Oh, oh, oh!” he groaned while + Miss Searle crossed rapidly and dropped on her knees at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, you fool!” shrieked her brother. + </p> + <p> + “Dear cousin,” she said, “it’s cruel you’re to have so to think of us!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh I shall think of <i>you</i> as you’d like!” He laid a hand on her head. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you’ve done nothing wrong,” she brought bravely out. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done what I could,” Mr. Searle went on—“but it’s arrant folly + to pretend to friendship when this abomination lies between us. You were + welcome to my meat and my wine, but I wonder you could swallow them. The + sight spoiled <i>my</i> appetite!” cried the master of Lackley with a laugh. + “Proceed with your trumpery case! My people in London are instructed and + prepared.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t wonder if your case had improved a good deal since you gave + it up,” I was moved to observe to Searle. + </p> + <p> + “Oho! you don’t feign ignorance then?” and our insane entertainer shook + his shining head at me. “It’s very kind of you to give it up! Perhaps + you’ll also give up my sister!” + </p> + <p> + Searle sat staring in distress at his adversary. “Ah miserable man—I + thought we had become such beautiful friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Boh, you hypocrite!” screamed our host. + </p> + <p> + Searle seemed not to hear him. “Am I seriously expected,” he slowly and + painfully pursued, “to defend myself against the accusation of any real + indelicacy—to prove I’ve done nothing underhand or impudent? Think + what you please!” And he rose, with an effort, to his feet. “I know what + <i>you</i> think!” he added to Miss Searle. + </p> + <p> + The wheels of the carriage resounded on the gravel, and at the same moment + a footman descended with our two portmanteaux. Mr. Tottenham followed him + with our hats and coats. + </p> + <p> + “Good God,” our host broke out again, “you’re not going away?”—an + ejaculation that, after all that had happened, had the grandest + comicality. “Bless my soul,” he then remarked as artlessly, “of course + you’re going!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s perhaps well,” said Miss Searle with a great effort, inexpressibly + touching in one for whom great efforts were visibly new and strange, “that + I should tell you what my poor little note contained.” + </p> + <p> + “That matter of your note, madam,” her brother interrupted, “you and I + will settle together!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me imagine all sorts of kind things!” Searle beautifully pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Ah too much has been imagined!” she answered simply. “It was only a word + of warning. It was to tell you to go. I knew something painful was + coming.” + </p> + <p> + He took his hat. “The pains and the pleasures of this day,” he said to his + kinsman, “I shall equally never forget. Knowing you,” and he offered his + hand to Miss Searle, “has been the pleasure of pleasures. I hoped + something more might have come of it.” + </p> + <p> + “A monstrous deal too much has come of it!” Mr. Searle irrepressibly + declared. + </p> + <p> + His departing guest looked at him mildly, almost benignantly, from head to + foot, and then with closed eyes and some collapse of strength, “I’m afraid + so, I can’t stand more,” he went on. I gave him my arm and we crossed the + threshold. As we passed out I heard Miss Searle break into loud weeping. + </p> + <p> + “We shall hear from each other yet, I take it!” her brother pursued, + harassing our retreat. + </p> + <p> + My friend stopped, turning round on him fiercely. “You very impossible + man!” he cried in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say you’ll not prosecute?” Mr. Searle kept it up. “I shall + force you to prosecute! I shall drag you into court, and you shall be + beaten—beaten—beaten!” Which grim reiteration followed us on + our course. + </p> + <p> + We drove of course to the little wayside inn from which we had departed in + the morning so unencumbered, in all broad England, either with enemies or + friends. My companion, as the carriage rolled along, seemed overwhelmed + and exhausted. “What a beautiful horrible dream!” he confusedly wailed. + “What a strange awakening! What a long long day! What a hideous scene! + Poor me! Poor woman!” When we had resumed possession of our two little + neighbouring rooms I asked him whether Miss Searle’s note had been the + result of anything that had passed between them on his going to rejoin + her. “I found her on the terrace,” he said, “walking restlessly up and + down in the moonlight. I was greatly excited—I hardly know what I + said. I asked her, I think, if she knew the story of Margaret Searle. She + seemed frightened and troubled, and she used just the words her brother + had used—‘I know nothing.’ For the moment, somehow, I felt as a man + drunk. I stood before her and told her, with great emphasis, how poor + Margaret had married a beggarly foreigner—all in obedience to her + heart and in defiance to her family. As I talked the sheeted moonlight + seemed to close about us, so that we stood there in a dream, in a world + quite detached. She grew younger, prettier, more attractive—I found + myself talking all kinds of nonsense. Before I knew it I had gone very + far. I was taking her hand and calling her ‘Margaret, dear Margaret!’ She + had said it was impossible, that she could do nothing, that she was a + fool, a child, a slave. Then with a sudden sense—it was odd how it + came over me there—of the reality of my connexion with the place, I + spoke of my claim against the estate. ‘It exists,’ I declared, ‘but I’ve + given it up. Be generous! Pay me for my sacrifice.’ For an instant her + face was radiant. ‘If I marry you,’ she asked, ‘will it make everything + right?’ Of that I at once assured her—in our marriage the whole + difficulty would melt away like a rain-drop in the great sea. ‘Our + marriage!’ she repeated in wonder; and the deep ring of her voice seemed + to wake us up and show us our folly. ‘I love you, but I shall never see + you again,’ she cried; and she hurried away with her face in her hands. I + walked up and down the terrace for some moments, and then came in and met + you. That’s the only witchcraft I’ve used!” + </p> + <p> + The poor man was at once so roused and so shaken by the day’s events that + I believed he would get little sleep. Conscious on my own part that I + shouldn’t close my eyes, I but partly undressed, stirred my fire and sat + down to do some writing. I heard the great clock in the little parlour + below strike twelve, one, half-past one. Just as the vibration of this + last stroke was dying on the air the door of communication with Searle’s + room was flung open and my companion stood on the threshold, pale as a + corpse, in his nightshirt, shining like a phantom against the darkness + behind him. “Look well at me!” he intensely gasped; “touch me, embrace me, + revere me! You see a man who has seen a ghost!” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious goodness, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Write it down!” he went on. “There, take your pen. Put it into dreadful + words. How do I look? Am I human? Am I pale? Am I red? Am I speaking + English? A ghost, sir! Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + I confess there came upon me by contact a kind of supernatural shock. I + shall always feel by the whole communication of it that I too have seen a + ghost. My first movement—I can smile at it now—was to spring + to the door, close it quickly and turn the key upon the gaping blackness + from which Searle had emerged. I seized his two hands; they were wet with + perspiration. I pushed my chair to the fire and forced him to sit down in + it; then I got on my knees and held his hands as firmly as possible. They + trembled and quivered; his eyes were fixed save that the pupil dilated and + contracted with extraordinary force. I asked no questions, but waited + there, very curious for what he would say. At last he spoke. “I’m not + frightened, but I’m—oh excited! This is life! This is living! My + nerves—my heart—my brain! They’re throbbing—don’t you + feel it? Do you tingle? Are you hot? Are you cold? Hold me tight—tight—tight! + I shall tremble away into waves—into surges—and know all the + secrets of things and all the reasons and all the mysteries!” He paused a + moment and then went on: “A woman—as clear as that candle: no, far + clearer! In a blue dress, with a black mantle on her head and a little + black muff. Young and wonderfully pretty, pale and ill; with the sadness + of all the women who ever loved and suffered pleading and accusing in her + wet-looking eyes. God knows I never did any such thing! But she took me + for my elder, for the other Clement. She came to me here as she would have + come to me there. She wrung her hands and she spoke to me ‘marry me!’ she + moaned; ‘marry me and put an end to my shame!’ I sat up in bed, just as I + sit here, looked at her, heard her—heard her voice melt away, + watched her figure fade away. Bless us and save us! Here I be!” + </p> + <p> + I made no attempt either to explain or to criticise this extraordinary + passage. It’s enough that I yielded for the hour to the strange force of + my friend’s emotion. On the whole I think my own vision was the more + interesting of the two. He beheld but the transient irresponsible spectre—I + beheld the human subject hot from the spectral presence. Yet I soon + recovered my judgement sufficiently to be moved again to try to guard him + against the results of excitement and exposure. It was easily agreed that + he was not for the night to return to his room, and I made him fairly + comfortable in his place by my fire. Wishing above all to preserve him + from a chill I removed my bedding and wrapped him in the blankets and + counterpane. I had no nerves either for writing or for sleep; so I put out + my lights, renewed the fuel and sat down on the opposite side of the + hearth. I found it a great and high solemnity just to watch my companion. + Silent, swathed and muffled to his chin, he sat rigid and erect with the + dignity of his adventure. For the most part his eyes were closed; though + from time to time he would open them with a steady expansion and stare, + never blinking, into the flame, as if he again beheld without terror the + image of the little woman with the muff. His cadaverous emaciated face, + his tragic wrinkles intensified by the upward glow from the hearth, his + distorted moustache, his extraordinary gravity and a certain fantastical + air as the red light flickered over him, all re-enforced his fine likeness + to the vision-haunted knight of La Mancha when laid up after some grand + exploit. The night passed wholly without speech. Toward its close I slept + for half an hour. When I awoke the awakened birds had begun to twitter and + Searle, unperturbed, sat staring at me. We exchanged a long look, and I + felt with a pang that his glittering eyes had tasted their last of natural + sleep. “How is it? Are you comfortable?” I nevertheless asked. + </p> + <p> + He fixed me for a long time without replying and then spoke with a weak + extravagance and with such pauses between his words as might have + represented the slow prompting of an inner voice. “You asked me when you + first knew me what I was. ‘Nothing,’ I said, ‘nothing of any consequence.’ + Nothing I’ve always supposed myself to be. But I’ve wronged myself—I’m + a great exception. I’m a haunted man!” + </p> + <p> + If sleep had passed out of his eyes I felt with even a deeper pang that + sanity had abandoned his spirit. From this moment I was prepared for the + worst. There were in my friend, however, such confirmed habits of mildness + that I found myself not in the least fearing he would prove unmanageable. + As morning began fully to dawn upon us I brought our curious vigil to a + close. Searle was so enfeebled that I gave him my hands to help him out of + his chair, and he retained them for some moments after rising to his feet, + unable as he seemed to keep his balance. “Well,” he said, “I’ve been once + favoured, but don’t think I shall be favoured again. I shall soon be + myself as fit to ‘appear’ as any of them. I shall haunt the master of + Lackley! It can only mean one thing—that they’re getting ready for + me on the other side of the grave.” + </p> + <p> + When I touched the question of breakfast he replied that he had his + breakfast in his pocket; and he drew from his travelling-bag a phial of + morphine. He took a strong dose and went to bed. At noon I found him on + foot again, dressed, shaved, much refreshed. “Poor fellow,” he said, + “you’ve got more than you bargained for—not only a man with a + grievance but a man with a ghost. Well, it won’t be for long!” It had of + course promptly become a question whither we should now direct our steps. + “As I’ve so little time,” he argued for this, “I should like to see the + best, the best alone.” I answered that either for time or eternity I had + always supposed Oxford to represent the English maximum, and for Oxford in + the course of an hour we accordingly departed. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + + <h2><a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"></a> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Of that extraordinary place I shall not attempt to speak with any order or + indeed with any coherence. It must ever remain one of the supreme + gratifications of travel for any American aware of the ancient pieties of + race. The impression it produces, the emotions it kindles in the mind of + such a visitor, are too rich and various to be expressed in the halting + rhythm of prose. Passing through the small oblique streets in which the + long grey battered public face of the colleges seems to watch jealously + for sounds that may break upon the stillness of study, you feel it the + most dignified and most educated of cities. Over and through it all the + great corporate fact of the University slowly throbs after the fashion of + some steady bass in a concerted piece or that of the mediaeval mystical + presence of the Empire in the old States of Germany. The plain + perpendicular of the so mildly conventual fronts, masking blest seraglios + of culture and leisure, irritates the imagination scarce less than the + harem-walls of Eastern towns. Within their arching portals, however, you + discover more sacred and sunless courts, and the dark verdure soothing and + cooling to bookish eyes. The grey-green quadrangles stand for ever open + with a trustful hospitality. The seat of the humanities is stronger in her + own good manners than in a marshalled host of wardens and beadles. + Directly after our arrival my friend and I wandered forth in the luminous + early dusk. We reached the bridge that under-spans the walls of Magdalen + and saw the eight-spired tower, delicately fluted and embossed, rise in + temperate beauty—the perfect prose of Gothic—wooing the eyes + to the sky that was slowly drained of day. We entered the low monkish + doorway and stood in the dim little court that nestles beneath the tower, + where the swallows niche more lovingly in the tangled ivy than elsewhere + in Oxford, and passed into the quiet cloister and studied the small + sculptured monsters on the entablature of the arcade. I rejoiced in every + one of my unhappy friend’s responsive vibrations, even while feeling that + they might as direfully multiply as those that had preceded them. I may + say that from this time forward I found it difficult to distinguish in his + company between the riot of fancy and the labour of thought, or to fix the + balance between what he saw and what he imagined. He had already begun + playfully to exchange his identity for that of the earlier Clement Searle, + and he now delivered himself almost wholly in the character of his + old-time kinsman. + </p> + <p> + “<i>This</i> was my college, you know,” he would almost anywhere break out, + applying the words wherever we stood—“the sweetest and noblest in + the whole place. How often have I strolled in this cloister with my + intimates of the other world! They are all dead and buried, but many a + young fellow as we meet him, dark or fair, tall or short, reminds me of + the past age and the early attachment. Even as we stand here, they say, + the whole thing feels about its massive base the murmurs of the tide of + time; some of the foundation-stones are loosened, some of the breaches + will have to be repaired. Mine was the old unregenerate Oxford, the home + of rank abuses, of distinctions and privileges the most delicious and + invidious. What cared I, who was a perfect gentleman and with my pockets + full of money? I had an allowance of a thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + It was at once plain to me that he had lost the little that remained of + his direct grasp on life and was unequal to any effort of seeing things in + their order. He read my apprehension in my eyes and took pains to assure + me I was right. “I’m going straight down hill. Thank heaven it’s an easy + slope, coated with English turf and with an English churchyard at the + foot.” The hysterical emotion produced by our late dire misadventure had + given place to an unruffled calm in which the scene about us was reflected + as in an old-fashioned mirror. We took an afternoon walk through + Christ-Church meadow and at the river-bank procured a boat which I pulled + down the stream to Iffley and to the slanting woods of Nuneham—the + sweetest flattest reediest stream-side landscape that could be desired. + Here of course we encountered the scattered phalanx of the young, the + happy generation, clad in white flannel and blue, muscular fair-haired + magnificent fresh, whether floated down the current by idle punts and + lounging in friendly couples when not in a singleness that nursed + ambitions, or straining together in rhythmic crews and hoarsely exhorted + from the near bank. When to the exhibition of so much of the clearest joy + of wind and limb we added the great sense of perfumed protection shed by + all the enclosed lawns and groves and bowers, we felt that to be young in + such scholastic shades must be a double, an infinite blessing. As my + companion found himself less and less able to walk we repaired in turn to + a series of gardens and spent long hours sitting in their greenest places. + They struck us as the fairest things in England and the ripest and + sweetest fruit of the English system. Locked in their antique verdure, + guarded, as in the case of New College, by gentle battlements of + silver-grey, outshouldering the matted leafage of undisseverable plants, + filled with nightingales and memories, a sort of chorus of tradition; with + vaguely-generous youths sprawling bookishly on the turf as if to spare it + the injury of their boot-heels, and with the great conservative college + countenance appealing gravely from the restless outer world, they seem + places to lie down on the grass in for ever, in the happy faith that life + is all a green old English garden and time an endless summer afternoon. + This charmed seclusion was especially grateful to my friend, and his sense + of it reached its climax, I remember, on one of the last of such occasions + and while we sat in fascinated <i>flânerie</i> over against the sturdy back of + Saint John’s. The wide discreetly-windowed wall here perhaps broods upon + the lawn with a more effective air of property than elsewhere. Searle + dropped into fitful talk and spun his humour into golden figures. Any + passing undergraduate was a peg to hang a fable, every feature of the + place a pretext for more embroidery. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it all a delightful lie?” he wanted to know. “Mightn’t one fancy + this the very central point of the world’s heart, where all the echoes of + the general life arrive but to falter and die? Doesn’t one feel the air + just thick with arrested voices? It’s well there should be such places, + shaped in the interest of factitious needs, invented to minister to the + book-begotten longing for a medium in which one may dream unwaked and + believe unconfuted; to foster the sweet illusion that all’s well in a + world where so much is so damnable, all right and rounded, smooth and + fair, in this sphere of the rough and ragged, the pitiful unachieved + especially, and the dreadful uncommenced. The world’s made—work’s + over. Now for leisure! England’s safe—now for Theocritus and Horace, + for lawn and sky! What a sense it all gives one of the composite life of + the country and of the essential furniture of its luckier minds! Thank + heaven they had the wit to send me here in the other time. I’m not much + visibly the braver perhaps, but think how I’m the happier! The misty + spires and towers, seen far off on the level, have been all these years + one of the constant things of memory. Seriously, what do the spires and + towers do for these people? Are they wiser, gentler, finer, cleverer? My + diminished dignity reverts in any case at moments to the naked background + of our own education, the deadly dry air in which we gasp for impressions + and comparisons. I assent to it all with a sort of desperate calmness; I + accept it with a dogged pride. We’re nursed at the opposite pole. Naked + come we into a naked world. There’s a certain grandeur in the lack of + decorations, a certain heroic strain in that young imagination of ours + which finds nothing made to its hands, which has to invent its own + traditions and raise high into our morning-air, with a ringing hammer and + nails, the castles in which we dwell. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>—Oxford must + damnably do so. What a horrible thing not to rise to such examples! If you + pay the pious debt to the last farthing of interest you may go through + life with her blessing; but if you let it stand unhonoured you’re a worse + barbarian than we! But for the better or worse, in a myriad private + hearts, think how she must be loved! How the youthful sentiment of mankind + seems visibly to brood upon her! Think of the young lives now taking + colour in her cloisters and halls. Think of the centuries’ tale of dead + lads—dead alike with the end of the young days to which these haunts + were a present world, and the close of the larger lives which the general + mother-scene has dropped into less bottomless traps. What are those two + young fellows kicking their heels over on the grass there? One of them has + the <i>Saturday Review;</i> the other—upon my soul—the other has + Artemus Ward! Where do they live, how do they live, to what end do they + live? Miserable boys! How can they read Artemus Ward under those windows + of Elizabeth? What do you think loveliest in all Oxford? The poetry of + certain windows. Do you see that one yonder, the second of those lesser + bays, with the broken cornice and the lattice? That used to be the window + of my bosom friend a hundred years ago. Remind me to tell you the story of + that broken cornice. Don’t pretend it’s not a common thing to have one’s + bosom friend at another college. Pray was I committed to common things? He + was a charming fellow. By the way, he was a good deal like you. Of course + his cocked hat, his long hair in a black ribbon, his cinnamon velvet suit + and his flowered waistcoat made a difference. We gentlemen used to wear + swords.” + </p> + <p> + There was really the touch of grace in my poor friend’s divagations—the + disheartened dandy had so positively turned rhapsodist and seer. I was + particularly struck with his having laid aside the diffidence and + self-consciousness of the first days of our acquaintance. He had become by + this time a disembodied observer and critic; the shell of sense, growing + daily thinner and more transparent, transmitted the tremor of his + quickened spirit. He seemed to pick up acquaintances, in the course of our + contemplations, merely by putting out his hand. If I left him for ten + minutes I was sure to find him on my return in earnest conversation with + some affable wandering scholar. Several young men with whom he had thus + established relations invited him to their rooms and entertained him, as I + gathered, with rather rash hospitality. For myself, I chose not to be + present at these symposia; I shrank partly from being held in any degree + responsible for his extravagance, partly from the pang of seeing him yield + to champagne and an admiring circle. He reported such adventures with less + keen a complacency than I had supposed he might use, but a certain method + in his madness, a certain dignity in his desire to fraternise, appeared to + save him from mischance. If they didn’t think him a harmless lunatic they + certainly thought him a celebrity of the Occident. Two things, however, + grew evident—that he drank deeper than was good for him and that the + flagrant freshness of his young patrons rather interfered with his + predetermined sense of the element of finer romance. At the same time it + completed his knowledge of the place. Making the acquaintance of several + tutors and fellows, he dined in hall in half a dozen colleges, alluding + afterwards to these banquets with religious unction. One evening after a + participation indiscreetly prolonged he came back to the hotel in a cab, + accompanied by a friendly undergraduate and a physician and looking deadly + pale. He had swooned away on leaving table and remained so rigidly + unconscious as much to agitate his banqueters. The following twenty-four + hours he of course spent in bed, but on the third day declared himself + strong enough to begin afresh. On his reaching the street his strength + once more forsook him, so that I insisted on his returning to his room. He + besought me with tears in his eyes not to shut him up. “It’s my last + chance—I want to go back for an hour to that garden of Saint John’s. + Let me eat and drink—to-morrow I die.” It seemed to me possible that + with a Bath-chair the expedition might be accomplished. The hotel, it + appeared, possessed such a convenience, which was immediately produced. It + became necessary hereupon that we should have a person to propel the + chair. As there was no one on the spot at liberty I was about to perform + the office; but just as my patient had got seated and wrapped—he now + had a perpetual chill—an elderly man emerged from a lurking-place + near the door and, with a formal salute, offered to wait upon the + gentleman. We assented, and he proceeded solemnly to trundle the chair + before him. I recognised him as a vague personage whom I had observed to + lounge shyly about the doors of the hotels, at intervals during our stay, + with a depressed air of wanting employment and a poor semblance of finding + it. He had once indeed in a half-hearted way proposed himself as an + amateur cicerone for a tour through the colleges; and I now, as I looked + at him, remembered with a pang that I had too curtly declined his + ministrations. Since then his shyness, apparently, had grown less or his + misery greater, for it was with a strange grim avidity that he now + attached himself to our service. He was a pitiful image of shabby + gentility and the dinginess of “reduced circumstances.” He would have + been, I suppose, some fifty years of age; but his pale haggard unwholesome + visage, his plaintive drooping carriage and the irremediable disarray of + his apparel seemed to add to the burden of his days and tribulations. His + eyes were weak and bloodshot, his bold nose was sadly compromised, and his + reddish beard, largely streaked with grey, bristled under a month’s + neglect of the razor. In all this rusty forlornness lurked a visible + assurance of our friend’s having known better days. Obviously he was the + victim of some fatal depreciation in the market value of pure gentility. + There had been something terribly affecting in the way he substituted for + the attempt to touch the greasy rim of his antiquated hat some such bow as + one man of the world might make another. Exchanging a few words with him + as we went I was struck with the decorum of his accent. His fine whole + voice should have been congruously cracked. + </p> + <p> + “Take me by some long roundabout way,” said Searle, “so that I may see as + many college-walls as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “You know,” I asked of our attendant, “all these wonderful ins and outs?” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to, sir,” he said, after a moment, with pregnant gravity. And as + we were passing one of the colleges, “That used to be my place,” he added. + </p> + <p> + At these words Searle desired him to stop and come round within sight. + “You say that’s <i>your</i> college?” + </p> + <p> + “The place might deny me, sir; but heaven forbid I should seem to take it + ill of her. If you’ll allow me to wheel you into the quad I’ll show you my + windows of thirty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + Searle sat staring, his huge pale eyes, which now left nothing else worth + mentioning in his wasted face, filled with wonder and pity. “If you’ll be + so kind,” he said with great deference. But just as this perverted product + of a liberal education was about to propel him across the threshold of the + court he turned about, disengaged the mercenary hands, with one of his + own, from the back of the chair, drew their owner alongside and turned to + me. “While we’re here, my dear fellow,” he said, “be so good as to perform + this service. You understand?” I gave our companion a glance of + intelligence and we resumed our way. The latter showed us his window of + the better time, where a rosy youth in a scarlet smoking-fez now puffed a + cigarette at the open casement. Thence we proceeded into the small garden, + the smallest, I believe, and certainly the sweetest, of all the planted + places of Oxford. I pushed the chair along to a bench on the lawn, turned + it round, toward the front of the college and sat down by it on the grass. + Our attendant shifted mournfully from one foot to the other, his patron + eyeing him open-mouthed. At length Searle broke out: “God bless my soul, + sir, you don’t suppose I expect you to stand! There’s an empty bench.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said our friend, who bent his joints to sit. + </p> + <p> + “You English are really fabulous! I don’t know whether I most admire or + most abominate you! Now tell me: who are you? what are you? what brought + you to this?” + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow blushed up to his eyes, took off his hat and wiped his + forehead with an indescribable fabric drawn from his pocket. “My name’s + Rawson, sir. Beyond that it’s a long story.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask out of sympathy,” said Searle. “I’ve a fellow-feeling. If you’re a + poor devil I’m a poor devil as well.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m the poorer devil of the two,” said the stranger with an assurance for + once presumptuous. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. I suppose an English poor devil’s the poorest of all poor + devils. And then you’ve fallen from a height. From a gentleman commoner—is + that what they called you?—to a propeller of Bath-chairs. Good + heavens, man, the fall’s enough to kill you!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t take it all at once, sir. I dropped a bit one time and a bit + another.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s me, that’s me!” cried Searle with all his seriousness. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said our friend, “I believe I can’t drop any further.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow”—and Searle clasped his hand and shook it—“I + too am at the very bottom of the hole.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rawson lifted his eyebrows. “Well, sir, there’s a difference between + sitting in such a pleasant convenience and just trudging behind it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—there’s a shade. But I’m at my last gasp, Mr. Rawson.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m at my last penny, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Literally, Mr. Rawson?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rawson shook his head with large loose bitterness. “I’ve almost come + to the point of drinking my beer and buttoning my coat figuratively; but I + don’t talk in figures.” + </p> + <p> + Fearing the conversation might appear to achieve something like gaiety at + the expense of Mr. Rawson’s troubles, I took the liberty of asking him, + with all consideration, how he made a living. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t make a living,” he answered with tearful eyes; “I can’t make a + living. I’ve a wife and three children—and all starving, sir. You + wouldn’t believe what I’ve come to. I sent my wife to her mother’s, who + can ill afford to keep her, and came to Oxford a week ago, thinking I + might pick up a few half-crowns by showing people about the colleges. But + it’s no use. I haven’t the assurance. I don’t look decent. They want a + nice little old man with black gloves and a clean shirt and a + silver-headed stick. What do I look as if I knew about Oxford, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us,” cried Searle, “why didn’t you speak to us before?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to; half a dozen times I’ve been on the point of it. I knew you + were Americans.” + </p> + <p> + “And Americans are rich!” cried Searle, laughing. “My dear Mr. Rawson, + American as I am I’m living on charity.” + </p> + <p> + “And I’m exactly not, sir! There it is. I’m dying for the lack of that + same. You say you’re a pauper, but it takes an American pauper to go + bowling about in a Bath-chair. America’s an easy country.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah me!” groaned Searle. “Have I come to the most delicious corner of the + ancient world to hear the praise of Yankeeland?” + </p> + <p> + “Delicious corners are very well, and so is the ancient world,” said Mr. + Rawson; “but one may sit here hungry and shabby, so long as one isn’t too + shabby, as well as elsewhere. You’ll not persuade me that it’s not an + easier thing to keep afloat yonder than here. I wish <i>I</i> were in + Yankeeland, that’s all!” he added with feeble force. Then brooding for a + moment on his wrongs: “Have you a bloated brother? or you, sir? It matters + little to you. But it has mattered to me with a vengeance! Shabby as I sit + here I can boast that advantage—as he his five thousand a year. + Being but a twelvemonth my elder he swaggers while I go thus. There’s old + England for you! A very pretty place for <i>him!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old England!” said Searle softly. + </p> + <p> + “Has your brother never helped you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “A five-pound note now and then! Oh I don’t say there haven’t been times + when I haven’t inspired an irresistible sympathy. I’ve not been what I + should. I married dreadfully out of the way. But the devil of it is that + he started fair and I started foul; with the tastes, the desires, the + needs, the sensibilities of a gentleman—and not another blessed + ‘tip.’ I can’t afford to live in England.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>This</i> poor gentleman fancied a couple of months ago that he couldn’t + afford to live in America,” I fondly explained. + </p> + <p> + “I’d ‘swap’—do you call it?—chances with him!” And Mr. Rawson + looked quaintly rueful over his freedom of speech. + </p> + <p> + Searle sat supported there with his eyes closed and his face twitching for + violent emotion, and then of a sudden had a glare of gravity. “My friend, + you’re a dead failure! Be judged! Don’t talk about ‘swapping.’ Don’t talk + about chances. Don’t talk about fair starts and false starts. I’m at that + point myself that I’ve a right to speak. It lies neither in one’s chance + nor one’s start to make one a success; nor in anything one’s brother—however + bloated—can do or can undo. It lies in one’s character. You and I, + sir, have <i>had</i> no character—that’s very plain. We’ve been weak, sir; + as weak as water. Here we are for it—sitting staring in each other’s + faces and reading our weakness in each other’s eyes. We’re of no + importance whatever, Mr. Rawson!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rawson received this sally with a countenance in which abject + submission to the particular affirmed truth struggled with the comparative + propriety of his general rebellion against fate. In the course of a minute + a due self-respect yielded to the warm comfortable sense of his being + relieved of the cares of an attitude. “Go on, sir, go on,” he said. “It’s + wholesome doctrine.” And he wiped his eyes with what seemed his sole + remnant of linen. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear,” sighed Searle, “I’ve made you cry! Well, we speak as from + man to man. I should be glad to think you had felt for a moment the + side-light of that great undarkening of the spirit which precedes—which + precedes the grand illumination of death.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rawson sat silent a little, his eyes fixed on the ground and his + well-cut nose but the more deeply dyed by his agitation. Then at last + looking up: “You’re a very good-natured man, sir, and you’ll never + persuade me you don’t come of a kindly race. Say what you please about a + chance; when a man’s fifty—degraded, penniless, a husband and father—a + chance to get on his legs again is not to be despised. Something tells me + that my luck may be in your country—which has brought luck to so + many. I can come on the parish here of course, but I don’t want to come on + the parish. Hang it, sir, I want to hold up my head. I see thirty years of + life before me yet. If only by God’s help I could have a real change of + air! It’s a fixed idea of mine. I’ve had it for the last ten years. It’s + not that I’m a low radical. Oh I’ve no vulgar opinions. Old England’s good + enough for me, but I’m not good enough for old England. I’m a shabby man + that wants to get out of a room full of staring gentlefolk. I’m for ever + put to the blush. It’s a perfect agony of spirit; everything reminds me of + my younger and better self. The thing for me would be a cooling cleansing + plunge into the unknowing and the unknown! I lie awake thinking of it.” + </p> + <p> + Searle closed his eyes, shivering with a long-drawn tremor which I hardly + knew whether to take for an expression of physical or of mental pain. In a + moment I saw it was neither. “Oh my country, my country, my country!” he + murmured in a broken voice; and then sat for some time abstracted and + lost. I signalled our companion that it was time we should bring our small + session to a close, and he, without hesitating, possessed himself of the + handle of the Bath-chair and pushed it before him. We had got halfway home + before Searle spoke or moved. Suddenly in the High Street, as we passed a + chop-house from whose open doors we caught a waft of old-fashioned cookery + and other restorative elements, he motioned us to halt. “This is my last + five pounds”—and he drew a note from his pocket-book. “Do me the + favour, Mr. Rawson, to accept it. Go in there and order the best dinner + they can give you. Call for a bottle of Burgundy and drink it to my + eternal rest!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rawson stiffened himself up and received the gift with fingers + momentarily irresponsive. But Mr. Rawson had the nerves of a gentleman. I + measured the spasm with which his poor dispossessed hand closed upon the + crisp paper, I observed his empurpled nostril convulsive under the other + solicitation. He crushed the crackling note in his palm with a passionate + pressure and jerked a spasmodic bow. “I shall not do you the wrong, sir, + of anything but the best!” The next moment the door swung behind him. + </p> + <p> + Searle sank again into his apathy, and on reaching the hotel I helped him + to get to bed. For the rest of the day he lay without motion or sound and + beyond reach of any appeal. The doctor, whom I had constantly in + attendance, was sure his end was near. He expressed great surprise that he + should have lasted so long; he must have been living for a month on the + very dregs of his strength. Toward evening, as I sat by his bedside in the + deepening dusk, he roused himself with a purpose I had vaguely felt + gathering beneath his stupor. “My cousin, my cousin,” he said confusedly. + “Is she here?” It was the first time he had spoken of Miss Searle since + our retreat from her brother’s house, and he continued to ramble. “I was + to have married her. What a dream! That day was like a string of verses—rhymed + hours. But the last verse is bad measure. What’s the rhyme to ‘love’? + <i>Above!</i> Was she a simple woman, a kind sweet woman? Or have I only dreamed + it? She had the healing gift; her touch would have cured my madness. I + want you to do something. Write three lines, three words: ‘Good-bye; + remember me; be happy.’” And then after a long pause: “It’s strange a + person in my state should have a wish. Why should one eat one’s breakfast + the day one’s hanged? What a creature is man! What a farce is life! Here I + lie, worn down to a mere throbbing fever-point; I breathe and nothing + more, and yet I <i>desire!</i> My desire lives. If I could see her! Help me out + with it and let me die.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, at a venture, I dispatched by post a note to Miss + Searle: “<i>Your cousin is rapidly sinking. He asks to see you.</i>” I was + conscious of a certain want of consideration in this act, since it would + bring her great trouble and yet no power to face the trouble; but out of + her distress I fondly hoped a sufficient force might be born. On the + following day my friend’s exhaustion had become so great that I began to + fear his intelligence altogether broken up. But toward evening he briefly + rallied, to maunder about many things, confounding in a sinister jumble + the memories of the past weeks and those of bygone years. “By the way,” he + said suddenly, “I’ve made no will. I haven’t much to bequeath. Yet I have + something.” He had been playing listlessly with a large signet-ring on his + left hand, which he now tried to draw off. “I leave you this”—working + it round and round vainly—“if you can get it off. What enormous + knuckles! There must be such knuckles in the mummies of the Pharaohs. + Well, when I’m gone—! No, I leave you something more precious than + gold—the sense of a great kindness. But I’ve a little gold left. + Bring me those trinkets.” I placed on the bed before him several articles + of jewellery, relics of early foppery: his watch and chain, of great + value, a locket and seal, some odds and ends of goldsmith’s work. He + trifled with them feebly for some moments, murmuring various names and + dates associated with them. At last, looking up with clearer interest, + “What has become,” he asked, “of Mr. Rawson?” + </p> + <p> + “You want to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “How much are these things worth?” he went on without heeding me. “How + much would they bring?” And he weighed them in his weak hands. “They’re + pretty heavy. Some hundred or so? Oh I’m richer than I thought! Rawson—Rawson—you + want to get out of this awful England?” + </p> + <p> + I stepped to the door and requested the servant whom I kept in constant + attendance in our adjacent sitting-room to send and ascertain if Mr. + Rawson were on the premises. He returned in a few moments, introducing our + dismal friend. Mr. Rawson was pale even to his nose and derived from his + unaffectedly concerned state an air of some distinction. I led him up to + the bed. In Searle’s eyes, as they fell on him, there shone for a moment + the light of a human message. + </p> + <p> + “Lord have mercy!” gasped Mr. Rawson. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said Searle, “there’s to be one American the less—so + let there be at the same time one the more. At the worst you’ll be as good + a one as I. Foolish me! Take these battered relics; you can sell them; let + them help you on your way. They’re gifts and mementoes, but this is a + better use. Heaven speed you! May America be kind to you. Be kind, at the + last, to your own country!” + </p> + <p> + “Really this is too much; I can’t,” the poor man protested, almost scared + and with tears in his eyes. “Do come round and get well and I’ll stop + here. I’ll stay with you and wait on you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m booked for my journey, you for yours. I hope you don’t mind the + voyage.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rawson exhaled a groan of helpless gratitude, appealing piteously from + so strange a windfall. “It’s like the angel of the Lord who bids people in + the Bible to rise and flee!” + </p> + <p> + Searle had sunk back upon his pillow, quite used up; I led Mr. Rawson back + into the sitting-room, where in three words I proposed to him a rough + valuation of our friend’s trinkets. He assented with perfect + good-breeding; they passed into my possession and a second bank-note into + his. + </p> + <p> + From the collapse into which this wondrous exercise of his imagination had + plunged him my charge then gave few signs of being likely to emerge. He + breathed, as he had said, and nothing more. The twilight deepened; I + lighted the night-lamp. The doctor sat silent and official at the foot of + the bed; I resumed my constant place near the head. Suddenly our patient + opened his eyes wide. “She’ll not come,” he murmured. “Amen! she’s an + English sister.” Five minutes passed; he started forward. “She’s come, + she’s here!” he confidently quavered. His words conveyed to my mind so + absolute an assurance that I lightly rose and passed into the + sitting-room. At the same moment, through the opposite door, the servant + introduced a lady. A lady, I say; for an instant she was simply such—tall + pale dressed in deep mourning. The next instant I had uttered her name—“Miss + Searle!” She looked ten years older. + </p> + <p> + She met me with both hands extended and an immense question in her face. + “He has just announced you,” I said. And then with a fuller consciousness + of the change in her dress and countenance: “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh death, death!” she wailed. “You and I are left.” + </p> + <p> + There came to me with her words a sickening shock, the sense of poetic + justice somehow cheated, defeated. “Your brother?” I panted. + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand on my arm and I felt its pressure deepen as she spoke. + “He was thrown from his horse in the park. He died on the spot. Six days + have passed. Six months!” + </p> + <p> + She accepted my support and a moment later we had entered the room and + approached the bedside, from which the doctor withdrew. Searle opened his + eyes and looked at her from head to foot. Suddenly he seemed to make out + her mourning. “Already!” he cried audibly and with a smile, as I felt, of + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + She dropped on her knees and took his hand. “Not for you, cousin,” she + whispered. “For my poor brother.” + </p> + <p> + He started, in all his deathly longitude, as with a galvanic shock. “Dead! + <i>He</i> dead! Life itself!” And then after a moment and with a slight rising + inflexion: “You’re free?” + </p> + <p> + “Free, cousin. Too sadly free. And now—<i>now</i>—with what use for + freedom?” + </p> + <p> + He looked steadily into her eyes, dark in the heavy shadow of her musty + mourning-veil. “For me wear colours!” + </p> + <p> + In a moment more death had come, the doctor had silently attested it, and + she had burst into sobs. + </p> + <p> + We buried him in the little churchyard in which he had expressed the wish + to lie; beneath one of the blackest and widest of English yews and the + little tower than which none in all England has a softer and hoarier grey. + A year has passed; Miss Searle, I believe, has begun to wear colours. + </p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PASSIONATE PILGRIM ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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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