mmmmmmmtm
 
 ri h RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 CJ3l23i
 
 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 AENOLD EOBUE 
 
 % Hobd 
 
 By martin combe 
 
 AND 
 
 DUNCAN LISLE 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMA:N' AND HALL 
 Limited 
 
 1886 
 
 [All rights reserved']
 
 Richard Clay and Sons, 
 
 BUNGAY, 
 
 and Bread Street Hill, London.
 
 8^^ 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WAXTED, A FULCRUM ... ... ... ... 1 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 III. 
 
 
 AFTER mXNER 
 
 ... 
 
 
 iV) . 
 
 •J 
 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 IV. 
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 V. 
 
 J 
 < 
 
 <'--:> 
 
 HERACLEITUS AND 
 
 DEMOCRITUS .. 
 
 
 
 
 
 "_ CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ^ "for AULD LANG SYNE " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PACK 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE ... ... ... ... 23 
 
 47 
 
 93 
 
 1-20 
 
 139
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BURN PORT 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 158 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EAST RISE 
 
 174 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 196 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MEX OF HONOUR 
 
 230 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 JUST HIS LUCK 
 
 I'oo 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A WALK 
 
 274 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AX OMEX 
 
 288
 
 AENOLD EOBUE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 WANTED, A FULCRUM. 
 
 " 'Tis a very good world that we live in 
 To lend, or to spend, or to give in ; 
 But to beg, or to borrow, or get at one's own 
 'Tis the very worst world that ever was known." 
 
 Old Adage. 
 
 It is exceedingly unpleasant to have to look a 
 nasty thing in the face, even if its nastiness is 
 an inevitable part of it, as is the case with the 
 weather of our northern latitudes in November. 
 Such, at least, is the view of what must be 
 expected from that unlovely month which is 
 based upon general experience. Should a really 
 fine day occur during the course of it, the season 
 is never allowed to get the credit. 
 
 " What a Spring day ! " cries materfamilias in 
 despair, as she looks at her little ones perspiring 
 in their stifling woollen wrajDS ; " these changes 
 are most trying, my dears." 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 '^ Smmner back again ! " twitter the saucy 
 sparrows ; " what a jolly sell for those finnicking 
 swallows that have taken all the trouble to go 
 and look for it ! " 
 
 Perhaps one cannot wonder, therefore, that 
 most Novembers keep close enough to their 
 cheerless programme of mist, dampness, and 
 decay : the particular one which is the occasion 
 of the present apology was, indeed, going a step 
 farther, and in spite of its extreme youth (it 
 had only been born a few hours) was raising 
 such a squall round the neighbourhood of Oak- 
 leigh as few among its ten predecessors had 
 equalled in their lustiest maturity. 
 
 All this, doubtless, was by way of making up 
 for lost time, the autumn chancres having; taken 
 place very gradually so far. " No more shilly- 
 shallying now,'' boomed the stentorian wind, and 
 ratified the declaration by shaking the windows 
 of the old house quite fiercely. Truly the year 
 was " tottering to its close" — as an orator once 
 quaintly remarked in the pulpit — " with gigantic 
 strides ! " 
 
 Some such saddening reflections as these may 
 have been passing through the mind of Mrs. 
 Marchpane, that queen of housekeepers, as she 
 stood beneath a faded carriage-umbrella just 
 outside the front door, wearing a somewhat woe- 
 begone expression on her clear, wholesome face.
 
 WANTED, A FULCRUM. 3 
 
 There she waited, as she had been doing at odd 
 intervals during the last two hours and more ; 
 looking, with her gingham pent-house drawn 
 down over her head, not unlike some wonderful 
 toad-stool which the cold and wet had united to 
 produce for the purpose of blocking up the door- 
 way and keeping out the expected master. 
 
 Presently she was reinforced by the most 
 powerful of her subjects, the housemaid. 
 
 ''Now do come in, ma'am, there's a dear: to 
 think of your standing out there in that lovely 
 silk ! It'll get all spoilt and spotted ; and you 
 know you haven't got anything else to put on 
 'arf so 'andsome." 
 
 " AVhy can't you leave me alone, Elioda ? 
 What a girl you are, to be sure ! D'ye think 
 I can let Mr. Arnold come without my being 
 here to say the first w^ord to him ? It's time 
 for him to be here now : depend upon it, some- 
 thing's kept him. Perhaps they couldn't keep 
 a fire up on the engine, being only men, you 
 know, — or the wood may have got damp, — and 
 there's been an accident. There, isn't that the 
 sound o' wheels ? " 
 
 She paused for a moment, bending her head 
 in a listening attitude. Then she added in- 
 con sequently : " Them nasty railroads ! I can't 
 stand 'em ; always going wrong and busting 
 up, they are." 
 
 B 2
 
 4 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 Here tlie gardener made his appearance, 
 bearing vegetables and fruit in one basket, and 
 hot-house flowers in another. He seemed to 
 be comparatively impervious to the general 
 moisture, being encased in several sacks which 
 had been modified to suit his human imper- 
 fections against such emergencies as the present. 
 
 " On the look-out early, mum, you are," 
 observed this sackcloth impenitent, with brisk 
 satire. " Mr. Gibbins 's only bin gone wdth* the 
 trap this 'arf-hour, and he had his marketin' to 
 do at Burfield afore the train was doo." 
 
 The ringing of a bell, audible through the 
 half-open door leading towards the kitchen, 
 stopped the severe retort that the housekeeper 
 was on the point of making to his rash levity. 
 For a moment they all stood aghast without 
 moving a step. The man recovered first : arguing 
 that there must be " summat oop wi' the bell- 
 handle," he proceeded to examine it gingerly, 
 as though it communicated with a galvanic bat- 
 tery ; and finally jDronounced the phenomenon, 
 with scarcely warrantable dogmatism, to be the 
 fell doing of a "sperrit." 
 
 '' Jinrally they raps," he went on, enlarging 
 on this occult theme, " but that's where there's 
 knockers. Bein' only a bell here, in coorse this 
 one couldn't rap, yer see." 
 
 But a repetition of the portent — a little louder
 
 WAMEI), A FULCEUM. 5 
 
 tliis time, as thougli the "sperrit," wherever 
 he might be, was getting petulant at being 
 neglected — aroused Mrs. Marchpane from her in- 
 action. Connecting canse and eiBFect by a sudden 
 flash she darted into the house, and bustling 
 down the passage, burst into the dining-room. 
 
 A gentleman was seated before the comfort- 
 able hearth with his boots off, warming the soles 
 of his feet. On beholding the incomer, how- 
 ever, he started up with a crj of debghL 
 
 " Wkj, it s you, Barbara." 
 
 He rushed forward, and hugged her against a 
 very wet shoulder in a way quite hearty and 
 unconventional 
 
 As for the recipient of these attentions, she 
 did not mind the look of the thing one jot. 
 Any one could have seen how proud she was of 
 it all, and how fond of him, as she patted his 
 hand before trying to say her word of welcome 
 to this fine, bearded fellow, her foster-child, the 
 little weakling of old days whom she could 
 hardly believe that she herself had once nursed. 
 
 " And what a cross, tyrannical old nur^ you 
 were too," laughed he, " weren't you, Barbara ? 
 I may eaU you by that name still ? You were 
 Barbara to them, you know." 
 
 He pointed to a portrait over the fireplace of 
 a young couple holding each other in a half- 
 playful, half-loving caress.
 
 6 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Mrs. Marclipane looked at the picture, and 
 dried her eyes ; for the casements of her affec- 
 tionate soul were as moist as the window-panes 
 at that moment. 
 
 " Mr. Arnold," she said, turning them back on 
 his face, *'they are not here to be loved any 
 more. But, thank God, you are with us again 
 safe and hearty : may you live long to carry on 
 their honoured name." 
 
 People seldom realise how largely the admix- 
 ture of happiness which their lives contain is due 
 to servants and humble friends, — "inferiors," 
 as they are called. Fortunately for us, the 
 *' constant service " of Cana Fides is still among 
 the few things which are not yet articles of com- 
 merce, nor are there any signs at present that it 
 will ever be classed among the defunct character- 
 istics of " the antique world." 
 
 " But la, sir," said the housekeeper, now quite 
 recovered, " however did you manage to get in 
 without our seeing or heariug a suspicion of 
 you ? Ehoda Dandrum and me have been staring 
 down the drive with all our eyes every now and 
 again the whole blessed day. Mine are getting 
 dim, I know ; but that girl's ought to be as keen 
 as keen at her age. But everything's altered 
 now-a-days, sir ; the very housemaids aren't what 
 they were, by a good deal," and the old body 
 fetched a sio'h as she lighted the candles, to try
 
 WAXTED, A FULCRUM. 7 
 
 and make Arnold believe that even his comino; 
 left some things to be desired. 
 
 He lauo;hed as he warmed himself at the fire. 
 
 " Ehoda would have to keep her eyes at the 
 back of her head if she had wanted to see me 
 come in by the conservatory without her turning 
 round. Were the girls made like spiders in your 
 youug days, Barbara ? The fact is, I came by 
 an earlier train than I had intended, and left it 
 at the junction, fifteen miles away, this morning. 
 The guard undertook to have my luggage taken 
 care of at Burfield till Gibbins should come for 
 it. The weather looked promising ; so I thought 
 I would give myself the treat of walking over 
 the old ground again, and get gradually used to 
 the idea of having really come home at last to 
 take possession on my own account. And it 
 was fine when I started," he added, eyeing a 
 barometer in the corner rather ruefully. 
 
 "My certies!" exclaimed Mrs. Marchpane, 
 holding up a pair of plump hands, " to think of 
 your having had a fine morning so near here ! 
 It's enough to make one almost hopeful again. 
 Well, I must go and look after Joshua ; he ought 
 to be back. I've had your dinner laid in the 
 library, sir, as being more snug and home-like 
 for one ; and it'll be ready as soon as you are." 
 
 " All right, Barbara," shouted Arnold, as he 
 began to climb the staircase to his bed-room.
 
 8 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 The housekeeper waited at the bottom of the 
 flight till a door in the upper regions closed on 
 his cheery whistle. Then she stole back to the 
 dining-room, and gazed again at the picture over 
 the oak mantelpiece. 
 
 ''He's just like both of them, and he isn't 
 like either," murmured she ; — a remark which 
 may not have been exactly logical, but was 
 certainly true. The dead parents were equally, 
 and without any visible preponderance on either 
 side, responsible for their child's manner as well 
 as for his physical proportions. To his old nurse 
 it might well seem that these two points of 
 resemblance together furnished a tolerably safe 
 index to his character. His exterior was the 
 happiest interfusion of her old master and mis- 
 tress, and she had unconsciously arrived at a 
 similar conclusion already with regard to those 
 qualities of his nature which lay more out of sight. 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane had not, it must be admitted, 
 studied Darwin, and knew absolutely nothing 
 about Association and Inheritance, even when 
 those beautiful words were not spelt with capital 
 initials. Consequently she had gone through 
 life without the least attempt at theorising about 
 the twin factors which make us what we are. 
 But perhaps she was as wise as her neighbours 
 for all practical purposes.
 
 WANTED, A FULCRUM. 9 
 
 Arnold stayed long over his dinner, helping it 
 down with a book, as was his w^ont. To-night, 
 however, it was not the reading that hindered 
 him : he was meditating in a desultory way on 
 the year that had elapsed since he left college ; 
 on his foreign experiences, and how glad he was 
 to be at home again, no longer bound to live 
 with his guardian and conform more or less to 
 his ojDinions. Mr. Dalton had discharged his 
 duties with sufficient tact and amiability, it was 
 true ; but Arnold loved independence, and there 
 — he was glad it was all over, and he was free to 
 begin life entirely on his own plan. 
 
 He rose with a sigh that was not altogether 
 one of relief, however, and rang to have the 
 table cleared. Afterwards he sat down in his 
 arm-chair to enjoy some delicious coffee (he 
 knew how to make it for himself) and a cigar. 
 
 Nevertheless, these things did not form the 
 sum total of happiness in Arnold's eyes : even 
 now he was haunted by a dissatisfaction none 
 the less poignant because it was vague. Not 
 that asceticism appeared to him one whit more 
 hopeful : surely the laborious, or the delicate 
 mode of living was but an accident, something 
 to be classed with things indifferent, of no real 
 siofnificance as determininsj a man's character and 
 aims. 
 
 " I am certain," thought he, '' that were I
 
 10 ARNOLD EOBUE. 
 
 suddenly uprooted out of tins pleasant spot, and 
 set down somewhere else under entirely different 
 circumstances, I should feel just as I do now, as 
 soon as I had time to think." 
 
 What are the conditions of happiness is a 
 question which must be left to each of us to 
 solve in his ow^n way. It is a matter of private 
 temperament in every case. One thing is clear 
 enough, however : a man must be at peace 
 with himself before he can do much good in the 
 world. Now with most men the inferior rabble 
 of impulses and desires are kept in orderly sub- 
 jection by some one or other dominant impulse. 
 They are not harassed by making perpetual 
 reference to an immutable standard of right and 
 wrono:. But there are a few whose souls are not 
 to be suffered to canker through inaction : their 
 reason mistrusts itself; they are stretched on 
 the rack till they can solve their life's riddle. 
 Usually they find themselves in this plight 
 through the interposition of some hiatus between 
 the preparation for, and the actual commence- 
 ment of, the business of living. This probably 
 comes about with the discovery that the ideals 
 which tjiey have hitherto cherished are delusive 
 or insufficient ; and when these have once been 
 impugned, should they fail to stand the tests of 
 maturity, their votaries not unnaturally despair, 
 and lose faith in their ow^n principles.
 
 WAXTED, A FULCEUM. 11 
 
 Thus was it with Arnold Eobur when he left 
 Cambridge, nor was it different with him on his 
 return to Oakleigh after a whole year of foreign 
 travel. His difficulty had only been postponed, 
 not disposed of : it looked more urgent now than 
 it had ever done before. 
 
 So, as he sat there, the first blush of pleasure 
 at his latest change of scene faded from his face, 
 expelled by the paleness of suffering. The fire 
 died down in the grate, and left it grey with 
 dusty ashes. Arnold had a fancy that it was 
 preaching to him the parable of his own exist- 
 ence, — a crumbling, death-in-life affair at best. 
 Xever had his need for intellectual sympathy 
 made itself so felt. 
 
 " Shall I take counsel with Armitage ? " said 
 the young man to himself, as he rose and lit his 
 candle : " I suppose he would lecture me on this 
 ' Age of Unfaith/ and thank me for giving him 
 such an excellent cue. Well, I know all that — 
 the 'vaunted mentalism,' the ' craving for religious 
 sestheticism,' and all the rest of it." 
 
 He made a slight grimace — to be accounted 
 for, perhaps, by the fact of some melted grease 
 from the candle falling on to his fingers. 
 
 " Then there's Paston : he promised to come 
 down to-morrow, so he did. I shall wait and 
 see what he makes of it.'^ 
 
 He yawned, and rubbed his eyes.
 
 12 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 " Oh for an OEclipus to undertake the job of 
 r[uelling the monster for me ! " 
 
 Perhaps this young man was all the harder to 
 satisfy from one small peculiarity which many 
 admirable sceptics manage to do without. This 
 was that he desired above all things to hold 
 some adequate belief. His scepticism was not 
 held for scepticism's sake : but the presence of 
 this very element, painful as it made Arnold's 
 state of mind, brought a latent force to bear 
 which in itself had a healthy tendency. Again, 
 he was capable of much enthusiasm, though it 
 was as natural for him to restrain it till his 
 judgment should approve as is the instinct which 
 prevents a pack of hounds from starting off in 
 full cry before they have found anything to hunt. 
 Moreover, he had a commendable horror of affect- 
 ation and publicity : he did not pretend to 
 aspirations that were none of his, posing as hero 
 or emancipator ; he had never stooped to discard 
 the Deity with magnificent self- commiseration 
 before a debating society, or ape the Prome- 
 thean vein at fashionable soirees. Gesticulating 
 on such a topic had always seemed to him con- 
 temptible. In short, he was too much in earnest 
 to grin through a horse-collar for other people's 
 amusement. 
 
 The next morning was spent by Arnold in the 
 way best calculated to soothe his spirit — at the
 
 WANTED, A FULCRUM. 13 
 
 piano. The instrument wanted using, but was 
 otherwise in good repair, as the library, where 
 it stood, was always kept warm and dry on 
 account of the books. Music was Arnold's chief 
 solace ; in spite of certain superficial angularities, 
 — corners which time had not yet rounded, — his 
 was one of those highly -favoured organisations 
 that can take to themselves wings whenever a 
 sweet melody is sounded, and escape from the 
 jarring noise of mundane afi"airs. Poor mortals 
 who have not this divine gift of abstraction must 
 bear the din incessantly, till the true music loses 
 its power over them in the roar and rush of other 
 thinors, and their ears gret dull of hearino* as their 
 eves of seeino'. 
 
 Conversing thus with the Muse of Harmony 
 our friend forgot all time — except, to be sure, 
 that which reo'ulates such intercourse : and it 
 was not until he heard a footstep in the hall 
 outside that he ceased. In another moment he 
 was grasping his visitor's hand, and dragging 
 him into the room. 
 
 Mr. Robert Paston was a young man of twenty- 
 eight, and was therefore some four years older 
 than Arnold. His face was, however, that of a 
 man nearer forty than thirty, partly owing to the 
 abundance of hair upon his cheeks, which looked 
 as though it might have been successfully trans- 
 planted from his crown, for he was getting
 
 14 ARNOLD ROBLTR. 
 
 prematurely bald. His general appearance was 
 staid and massive, yet withal kindly. There is 
 much attraction in a twinkling eye set in a whole- 
 some, beaming face. Some eyes, indeed, there 
 are which go on twinkling so pertinaciously as to 
 make it a thing quite cheap and unmeritorious. 
 Their reason for doing so is often sufficiently 
 obscure to set their friends off on a fool's errand 
 thinking how to find one ; and lo, there is none. 
 "When Paston twinkled, however, it was with 
 meaning, as on the present occasion. 
 
 " Ah, Robur, happy fellow ! Who would not 
 wish himself in your place, to be able to sit down 
 at ease after a late breakfast, and dream away 
 the hours 1 Do you know how long you have 
 
 been over your voyage to the clouds ? Not 
 
 J) 
 you. 
 
 Arnold acknowledged that he had risen that 
 morning with the intention of meeting Paston at 
 Burfield station about two o'clock. " And now 
 it's nearly three," remarked the latter delightedly. 
 Then he added, with tentative diplomacy, " Still 
 time for lunch.'*' 
 
 " Stay," said this jovial ascetic, when they 
 were seated at that meal of widely varying 
 custom and observance ; " unseal not that coy 
 amphora on my account, my genial Thaliarchus ; 
 let the rich Csecuban stay in its two-eared crock 
 for me. Nay, my friend, with none of them —
 
 WANTED, A FULCErM. 15 
 
 from Oporto's luscious berry to the liglit and not 
 inebriatino' Sabine dinner-claret — will I moisten 
 my weasand this day, thank you. The fact is, 
 I've been making a night of it, — an unusually 
 bad one, — and it's g-iven me a fit of the blues — 
 temperance colour, you know." 
 
 The doctor spoke gaily ; but Arnold noticed 
 his hand tremble as he poured some water into a 
 tumbler, and drank it slowly. 
 
 " When I tell you that I only snatched a 
 couj^le of hours' sleep this morning before coming 
 down here, and that on the top of a remarkably 
 lively case of D. T., you will perhaps cease to 
 wonder at my sudden devotion to Adam's Entire." 
 
 He took another pull at the water, and pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 *' You see, the poor wretch had been one of my 
 old chums." The doctor did not say how much he 
 had tried to do for this man when he was himself 
 serving a hard medical apprenticeship, or how 
 involuntary had been the companionship thus 
 forced upon him: "Yes, we walked the wards 
 together at St. Fawkes'. He was entrapped into 
 marrying^ a barmaid from some bio- restaurant 
 or other ; that's how it was. Of course their 
 conjugal felicity didn't last long, and she left 
 him for some other fellow ; but I am pretty sure 
 he'll never feel that, or any other loss, again. I 
 shall never forget one afternoon at the end of a
 
 16 AENOLD EOBUR. 
 
 fortnight he spent with me just before he took to 
 his bed. It hadn't dawned upon me, somehow, 
 what was up with him till then : a sort of pass- 
 ing queerness may have been observable before, 
 but that day it settled down on him in the most 
 unmistakable way. He had been playing the 
 strangest antics while I was out, they told me ; 
 and when I opened the door, and saw him with 
 his hat on and his coat off, knocking over 
 imaginary skittles, and conversing brightly all 
 the while with a crowd of spectral pals, my worst 
 fears were realised. 
 
 " Directly he saw me he left the game, and 
 came towards me with reproachful expostulation 
 written in every feature. * Paston,' said he, 
 ' why will you always be running after that 
 brute Muckford 1 The fellow's nothing but a 
 billiard-marker, and a low cad at that. That's 
 just what he is, pained as you must be to hear 
 it of a friend of yours. But I think nothing of 
 that, so you're warned in time. Don't lend him 
 any more, now don't ; and have nothing more to 
 say to him. Already he's got you into more than 
 one ugly thing, — there, you needn't try to deny 
 it. Anyhow, I'll do the best I can for you, we 
 always have been like brothers together.' Then, 
 with lowered voice, and rather nervously, ^ I'm 
 not speaking too loud, am I ? D'ye think he can 
 hear yonder ? You can see him over my shoulder.'
 
 WAXTED, A FULCEUM. 17 
 
 " Putting some constraint upon myself, I 
 did not attempt to brazen out my ignorance 
 of Muckford, and his nefarious practices, to 
 this keen-eyed Mentor. ' That's right,' said he 
 absently, when I promised to do better in future. 
 ' I told him to wait for it in the garden,' he 
 added, turning to the window. ' AVait for 
 what ? ' said I, wondering what would happen 
 next. ' "^Vhy, the sixpence, of course, the one 
 I gave you to keep for me when these chaps 
 came in.' ^Here it is,' said I, mechanically 
 producing a coin. ' Hulloa there, Muckford,' 
 shouted my patient, snatching it from my hand, 
 and throwing up the sash. ' Catch, Muckford. 
 Got it ? All right. You know where to take it. 
 Mind he measures out the liquor on the square, 
 and don't you dip t/oio' beak into it.' With that 
 he chucked the sixpence out into my vacant 
 back-yard, and sat down with a look of calm 
 anticipation on his face. Xeedless to say, how- 
 ever, his invisible genius never returned with 
 the grog, and may have drunk himself to death 
 in the bar of the Green Man with the earnino-s 
 
 o 
 
 of his treachery, for aught I know. Enough to 
 make one laugh, isn't it ? but upon my word I 
 was as near doing; the other thino- at the time." 
 
 " It is astonishing how persistently one is dis- 
 posed to find comedy in e s^erything," resumed 
 Paston after a pause. " Did you ever hear of 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 tlie parson who mauaged to behave with due 
 decorum at the burial of a parishioner, but gave 
 way completely to a most disgraceful fit of mer- 
 riment immediately afterwards, upon being in- 
 formed that ' the corpse's brother-in-law ' wanted 
 to see him in the vestry ? " 
 
 Arnold knew and respected a genuinely deep 
 sympathy in his friend for all things human, nor 
 was he to be deceived by the harmless affectation 
 of a mocking tone behind which Paston some- 
 times attempted to conceal it. There was, indeed, 
 a thoroug-h understanding; between these two, and 
 none the less so for the reticence of each in mani- 
 festing it. Here in England men feel more than 
 they are able to express. The air, according to a 
 reason given by Milton, is too cold for us to be 
 continually opening our mouths, like the dwellers 
 under warmer skies ; and hence it comes that, 
 from being undemonstrative, we are liable to 
 seem unfeeling to our more voluble neighbours. 
 
 It will be observed that Paston was by no 
 means of that legitimate order of family phy- 
 sicians whose ^professional attendance has been 
 deemed requisite for the sanity of the bulk of 
 fiction from the days of Sangrado and Slop. 
 That he belonged to the same honourable pro- 
 fession as those worthies cannot be denied, but 
 it is an accident for which be alone is responsible. 
 Of course he might have selected a less frequented,
 
 A FULCKL'M. 19 
 
 if not more interesting;, walk in life : lie mioiit 
 have been a junior lord of the Admiralty, a writer 
 in the Times, or even a novelist. It would have 
 been interesting to have known him under either 
 of the first two capacities, at any rate. But the 
 " stubborn realism " of history may not be pal- 
 tered with : he was a doctor, and one who did 
 not vary his engagements by lecturing on Social- 
 ism, or playing the bass drum. He was not a 
 typical doctor, either ; within that charmed circle 
 he was looked upon askance by some of the elders 
 of the craft. Doubts of his orthodoxy had been 
 whispered ; and Dr. Kachuma Lyvo, who lived 
 in the same street in London, had been known 
 to cross himself, and hiss out the deadly word 
 " homoeopath " when the shadow of Paston's neat 
 brougham crossed his dining-room windows. 
 
 "As you have settled with your partner to 
 stay over to-morrow," said Arnold, as they rose 
 from the table, " I have arranged to take you to 
 dine with the Daltons. They are old friends of 
 my father's, and I used to spend my holidays 
 from school and college mainly at their house. 
 Of course they have often heard about you from 
 me, and are dying to behold you in the flesh. I 
 wonder whether you'll fall in love with Grace." 
 
 Paston smiled grimly : "I suppose that's a 
 young lady's name : you should make her mis- 
 tress of Oakleioh, the house is bis: enouo^h for 
 
 C 2
 
 20 ARNOLD EOBUE. 
 
 two. You have everything else, and only want 
 to fill the cup of happiness simultaneously with 
 the vacant chair." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," replied Arnold, playfully 
 dismissing the other's insinuation, *'you won't 
 find much love-sickness about me, I assure you." 
 
 But the doctor persisted : 
 
 '' What ! You mean to tell me that there is 
 nothing grievous in a fate harder than was laid 
 on the much-endurins: Ithacan ! After all his 
 hardships he at least found a fair Penelope to 
 welcome him back. I'm afraid you want to be 
 educated up to that still, Eobur." 
 
 The allusions of this well-meaning person were 
 apt to be rather irritating, although he was quite 
 aware that the display of attainments is not in- 
 consistent with superficiality in them and their 
 owner. In the present instance, however, his 
 companion was merely amused. 
 
 *' I don't think I could get on without a Pene- 
 lope," he returned, " and I have a most efficient 
 one in Mrs. Marchpane, to say nothing of her 
 allowing no followers in the housekeeper's room." 
 
 Then they fell to discussing the inexhaustibly 
 congenial topic of their university careers. It 
 was due to Cambridge that they had ever met at 
 all — in the room of a common acquaintance, an 
 old schoolfellow of Arnold's. They had frater- 
 nised at once, losing no time in cultivating each
 
 WANTED, A FULCRUM. 21 
 
 other's society. Paston was considerably his 
 friend's senior in standing, and as a consequence 
 left Cambridge long before him. But frequent 
 visits on both sides kept up the intimacy which 
 was now, after five years' duration, no less close 
 than it had ever been. On the conclusion of his 
 course at the hospital the doctor's friends had 
 bought him a share in a flourishing practice. 
 His partner w^as an elderly man who had a house 
 out of town, and liked to spend as many even- 
 ings out of the week as possible in his retire- 
 ment. Paston found his solitude at Wimpole 
 Street rather unbearable when work w^as slack 
 enough to allow him to notice it, and was always 
 glad to get a friend to share it with him. He 
 w^as getting on well, and fast paying back what 
 had been laid out in securing for him so desirable 
 a position. 
 
 Before retiring for the night the doctor ex- 
 pressed his willingness to enliven Arnold with a 
 song, if the latter could accompany him without 
 laughing. This was not an easy matter, as he 
 stood at the other end of the grand piano, and 
 shouted the words defiantly at his accompanist's 
 head in a way more healthy than polite. They 
 sang many of the old ballads together, gems rich 
 with clustered associations that can never die. 
 They are with the child who hears them for the 
 first time ; he seems to recognise and hail them
 
 22 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 as old friends. If he were older, lie might believe 
 that he had heard them in some former state 
 from the Hours' rosy lips, or chanted by Time 
 himself, before he had gotten his elf-locks and 
 keen scythe. Transmigration of souls becomes 
 an innocent truism when the ears are tickled 
 by one of these familiar ditties. 
 
 The entertainment concluded with a song by 
 the entertainer. It was a setting of Pistol's 
 famous lines, 
 
 *' Why, then the world's mine oyster, 
 Which I with sword will open." 
 
 Arnold's mind was still runnins: on it when he 
 lighted his guest upstairs to his room. 
 
 " I wisli you could supply a lever for me to 
 insert between the old bivalve's jaws, my dear 
 fellow," he said half involuntarily ; " I shouldn't 
 know what to do with a sword. But then where 
 is the fulcrum to come from ? I never thought 
 of that." 
 
 The doctor did not understand : he was sleepy, 
 and not in the mood for piecing together stray 
 hints with suppressed contexts. 
 
 So he wondered what it could mean till his 
 eyes closed ; and then something made him 
 dream of Grace Dalton.
 
 PROFESSIOXAL ADVICE. 23 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 
 
 "Modo hoc modo illud probabilius videtur." — Cicero. 
 
 Whex Eobinson Crusoe left liis island and tlie 
 society of his parrots, goats, and cannibals, lie 
 must have found the great world more lonely 
 than the solitude which his indomitable patience 
 has made an enchanted bower to so many of us. 
 And so his history goes on to relate that it was 
 not very long before he returned. One moral of 
 his life is that a man may live in unwelcome re- 
 tirement and yet find an amount of excitement 
 sufficient for a rational mind. How meag^re and 
 ineffective that footprint on the sands would have 
 been at Brighton or Margate ! Still, his time was 
 not generally spent in discovering footprints. 
 Until the inestimable and immortal Friday joined 
 Defoe's hero, the only conversation he could enjoy 
 was that of parrots, whose capacities are generally 
 limited. And even when Friday was present, 
 Robinson Crusoe's life may fairly be regarded as
 
 24 ARNOLD EOBUE. 
 
 retired. From which we may observe that, once 
 a man has tasted the sweets of retirement, he is 
 loath to give them up altogether. Even com- 
 plete severance from society would hardly be 
 more wearisome than an unceasing round of 
 calls. We like humanity better when we have 
 an occasional breathing space, so that we may 
 view it as a whole. Consider the sad fate of 
 the popular man — the luckless being of whom 
 it is averred that no gathering is complete 
 without him. At the 'Varsity he becomes willy 
 nilly a frequenter of " wines," — he has no time 
 to call his own. He moves in a perpetual circle 
 of gaieties : he is introduced to everybody : he 
 is asked everywhere. But leisure for contempla- 
 tion he has none. The crowd of figures passing 
 before his eye blurs the ideals he may have 
 formed : he is liked by everybody, likes nearly 
 everybody, and has very little chance of getting 
 beyond liking in the active or passive. He has 
 too many corners rubbed off to have a very 
 strong individuality. 
 
 But that is no reason why a man may not 
 become a favourite in a circle, with a reasonably 
 extended reputation for good fellowship among 
 the better sort. The great cause of degeneration 
 is a somewhat vulgar sham delicacy which makes 
 so many people shrink from nothing so much as 
 the slightest difference of opinion with a com-
 
 PROFESSIOXAL ADVICE. 25 
 
 panion. Laying down the law is one thing ; 
 having an opinion is another. People are apt 
 to fomet that stronof natures are not attracted 
 by obsequiousness, while outspoken disagree- 
 ment is often the shortest cut to a real intimacy, 
 and without it no friendship is worth the name. 
 However, the popular people seem to like their 
 position ; — presumably they do not deserve our 
 pity. 
 
 The friendship between Paston and Eobur was 
 of the outspoken kind, and Arnold knew that 
 there was no likelihood of any shilly-shallying 
 or concealment in such advice as he might 
 extract from the other. So the next morning 
 he tried to unburden his soul, while his friend 
 gravely sat and smoked. 
 
 " It's the old business," he said in conclusion ; 
 '* I did have some hopes that a year's gadding 
 about among new scenes and people might help 
 to cure me : but it hasn't. So now, Paston, I 
 want a plain answer to a plain question. What 
 is your view of my case ? I don't believe it's 
 disease myself, but I want your opinion on the 
 point." 
 
 " Liver, my dear fellow — unquestionably liver, 
 if you ask me as a general practitioner. Liver 
 is responsible for everything now-a-days. But 
 putting aside that explanation, as an easy pro- 
 fessional dodge for getting over the difficulty, I
 
 26 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 should say it is constitutioaal ; but it's just as 
 likely to be health as disease. Now as I under- 
 stand you/' said the doctor critically, " you are 
 a man — correct me if I'm wrong — who fancies 
 himself without ground under his feet, in the 
 matter of reliojion and most other thinojs. You 
 have in fact developed agnosticism in the ordinary 
 course of nature. With most people that is a 
 plant which only takes feeble root after the most 
 careful attention has been bestowed on it. First, 
 the soil has to be prepared, which is admirably 
 done by the injudiciousness of parents and spiritual 
 pastors and masters generally ; a process whose 
 wonderful efficacy you have perhaps scarcely 
 realised fully. Then comes the individual's own 
 pruning, weeding, and watering ; and when it 
 has been carefully stowed away in a hothouse, 
 our orardener beoins to flatter himself that his 
 industry has finally disposed of the baneful 
 influence of cant, vagueness, — save the mark — 
 superstition, unreason, and all the other weeds 
 which before choked up his scientific Eden, and 
 hindered the modest exotic's growth. That is 
 the thing they spell with a capital A ; and a very 
 pretty specimen it is of what can be done by 
 laborious artificial contrivance. The gardens of 
 Alcinous were nothing to it. But then you see," 
 quoth Paston, fixing his eyes on the smoke that 
 curled towards the ceiling, '* to be kept alive it
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 27 
 
 must be nourished in identically the same way as 
 the old ideas — namely by dogma. Of course it has 
 been variously re-baptised ; but the chief difference 
 between the new religion and the older ones is 
 that while faith and dogma were in them comple- 
 mentary, this asserts the glorious self-sufficiency 
 of docxma, and its abilitv to take care of itself. 
 "Why some of 'em don't buckle to and write an 
 epic on it puzzles me — it can't be for want of 
 imagination. ' Paradise Dispensed with' would be 
 a novel and effective title. Oh, I know, I know," 
 continued the lecturer, waving his hand to forbid 
 interruption from Arnold, who seemed inclined 
 to speak, " you don't belong to that set. A little 
 * a ' would satisfy your modest requirements. I'm 
 coming to your symptoms. They aren't new to 
 me, though they don't correspond to anything I 
 ever felt myself. My diagnosis is founded simply 
 on observation. Now I take it, you occasionally 
 feel an impulse to seek some sort of distraction, 
 don't you ? " 
 
 '' Distraction ? yes," said " Arnold, puffing 
 viciously at his pipe. " I've been hunting for 
 distraction in every capital — not to say every 
 village — on the continent for the last twelve 
 months, — and a precious lot of good it's done me. 
 I should plunge in the giddy vortex of the stock 
 exchange, or set saddle on a hobby and ride it 
 to death, if I thought there was any permanent
 
 28 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 comfort to be got out of it. Model landlordism 
 isn't a particularly bracing tonic either. Oli, T 
 went into my tenants' affairs with zeal, I assure 
 you, and promised a reduction of rent for three 
 years, which was all very well in its way. They're 
 blessed with flowers and fruit from my garden, 
 and I let them trespass pretty much as they 
 like. That may work them up to treating me 
 with comparative confidence, and some interest 
 will attach to the attempt to stir up the fine old 
 crusted Tories of the neighbourhood to do some- 
 thing of the same sort. But these things don't 
 take long ; and I tell you I want an aim which 
 will stand wear." 
 
 '^ Well, I don't keep aims ready made in stock, 
 and don't see my way to providing you just 
 now. As for a fellow with more than enough 
 coin on his hands spending his time toiling and 
 spinning for superfluous pelf, it seems to me that 
 would be a waste of energy — unless he sees his 
 way to laying it out better than his neighbours. 
 And just at present you don't seem to be seeing 
 your way to anything in particular. It's no use 
 your hunting around for labour — it'll come some 
 time. But you can't go off solving the problems 
 of the universe before you've settled some of 
 your own private ones. Now there are some 
 people," said Paston, knocking^ the ashes out of 
 his pipe, and pausing to blow away some of the
 
 PEOFESSIOXAL ADVICE. 29 
 
 dust which had found its way on to his coat, — 
 '^ there are some people who would tell you that 
 devoted self-sacrifice is the correct card to play — 
 come forward as the champion of the oppressed 
 costermonger, or sw^eep, or somebody. Start a 
 society, provide the funds, appoint yourself per- 
 manent hon. sec, and there you are with divine 
 opportunities for writing unlimited letters. Only 
 you'd be a fraud.'' 
 
 " Just so." 
 
 " You see these friends of ours are excellent 
 folks : but they forget that after all there is a 
 tolerable evenness in the distribution of happiness. 
 If you hunt for deserving pauperism, your chance 
 of finding it is small. Keep close, and don't 
 make platform-business of your philanthropy, and 
 some day you may do some real good to some 
 one. Besides, the poor are always with us. But 
 as for a man like you, Bobur, shirking these 
 private difficulties, and refusing to look them 
 fairly in the face, it would be rank cowardice. 
 Thank the Lord, you can't j)lead necessity as an 
 excuse. You've a hundred times better chances 
 than the poor beggars who have to take opinions 
 on trust — or go without them — for hire. If there 
 is good stufi" in them they only get a temporary 
 release, and that at the very time of life when 
 they're best fitted for tussling with the foe. The 
 worse for them when thev are laid on the shelf
 
 30 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 ia old age, warped by all manner of custom and 
 meaningless observance, with the real battle of 
 life still to be foufyht, and Goliath brandishinoj 
 his weaver's beam like a tennis-racket. What 
 odds will you take for their victory then, young 
 David ? But you have your sling, with a rea- 
 sonable chance of finding five smooth stones in a 
 brook or elsewhere. Anyhow, you're bound to 
 
 try." 
 
 Arnold laughed. " It strikes me I should get 
 some one to stir up the magnanimous Gibbins to 
 challenge me to mortal combat," he said. " You'd 
 make an admirable second." 
 
 " Well, I might keep people from treating your 
 wounds idiotically, and feeding you on pig's chine 
 and Pramnian wine, like the sons of ^sculapius. 
 But, bar joking, Kobur, do get about the business 
 in earnest. If you and your spiritual brethren 
 would only manage to get your afi*airs settled a 
 bit, society would be vastly improved." 
 
 " I should like to think so, certainly. But 
 then we dont get our affairs settled, which is 
 against it." 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Eobur," said Paston, 
 rising and taking up a position of vantage on the 
 hearthrug, from whence he addressed Arnold 
 dictatorially, " my own belief is that half of this 
 generation's difiiculties are due to the feeble 
 inadequacy of our speculative scepticism. We
 
 PEOFESSIOXAL ADVICE. 31 
 
 investigate — bless you, we investigate ; but we 
 set about it without any method. We take the 
 instruments in our hands, and instead of scientific 
 probing and dissecting we stick them in hap- 
 hazard anyhow, and kick up a row because the 
 result is that we only make confusion worse con- 
 founded. The grand principle is classification ; 
 but we only jumble. We ought to classify the 
 disturbing elements. Classify the devil and he 
 will flee from you." 
 
 " 'Tis the voice of a Cantab, I heard him declare 
 If you classify well you need never despair," 
 
 improvised Arnold. " Well, your suggestions are 
 certainly encouraging, and I'll do my level best 
 to follow them." 
 
 The doctor was reassured by his tone. '' Well, 
 you w^on't repent it, if j)rophesying is safe. The 
 main point is to fight the battle honestly and man- 
 fully without shirking. Still, I don't recommend 
 you to spend your whole time over it ; you'd be 
 apt to get morbid. You want some sort of occupa- 
 tion, to keep you in a healthy frame of mind. 
 You're a musician, of course, and that's a wonder- 
 ful safeguard ; because, so far as I can see, there 
 is nothino; to which his Infernal Hig-hness has 
 such an ineradicable objection. I don't know^ if 
 David was the first party who found that out 
 when they sent for him with his harp to play to
 
 32 ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 Saul ; but if he was, he deserved a deal of credit. 
 There's nothing like it for exorcising the fiend — 
 except when it's going on next door in the shape 
 of scales and five-finger exercises : then it seems 
 to tell the other way. Bat you can't always have 
 music, and there's no possible reason for going on 
 with only one string to your bow. Why not try 
 writing ? " 
 
 " H'm. What am I to write ? I don't yearn 
 to fill editorial waste-paper baskets, or see my 
 works in a bookshop, labelled ' all this lot, quite 
 new, reduced 2^. 6<:/.' It's humiliating." 
 
 ^' My dear fellow, you needn't be alarmed ; I'm 
 proud to say that I can pretty well secure you 
 from the ignominy you mentioned first. The 
 blameless Bloss, godlike editor of the Hebdomadal 
 Tuba Mirabilis, vulgarly known as the Weeldy 
 Startler, honours me by having adopted me as 
 the guardian of his body's health, and he'll accept 
 any recommendation from me like a shot. In his 
 columns, you will find an admirable escape-valve 
 for the seethings of your colossal brain. A light 
 review now and then might put you in spirits. 
 I'll introduce you to some of the stafi"," said 
 Paston, dropping into his chair again ; " they're 
 a queer lot, and you'll be amused." And so the 
 question was settled after a discussion which 
 afibrded considerable satisfaction to both parties, 
 and went some way to cementing an already
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 33 
 
 strong friendship ; as outspoken discussions 
 generally do. 
 
 In the evening thev went over accordinsr to 
 appointment to dine with Mr. Dalton and his 
 family. Beau Sejour, as the owner's wife had 
 insisted on naming the place, was a pleasant 
 enous^h house within a mile of Burfield : newer 
 than Oakleigh, as Mr. Dalton himself had built 
 it. That gentleman received his visitors with 
 the hospitable urbanity which was characteristic 
 of him. " Mrs. Dalton will be delighted to see 
 you," he said to the doctor, after a somewhat 
 ceremonious greeting. "She has been longing 
 to make your acquaintance, after all we have 
 heard about you from Arnold." To which Paston 
 mumbled some vague reply, and felt embarrassed. 
 It was like being told suddenly that he was down 
 on the programme for a speech or a comic song. 
 This was the host's artful method of atoning for 
 his better-half's peculiarities. Thus was he fain 
 to persuade his guests that his wife's shortcomings 
 were a careful disguise, concealing the most heart- 
 felt interest in her neighbours' welfare. Unhap- 
 pily, however, the plan did not meet with the 
 success it deserved, the true state of affairs being 
 somewhat too palpable. 
 
 Hardly had Mr. Dalton finished these polite 
 observations when their refutation appeared in 
 flesh and blood, rather excessively adorned, at 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 the door : followed by a pretty and ratlier prim- 
 looking young lady with fair hair and hazel eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Dalton herself was a stately dame, with 
 features that had by no means lost the good 
 looks that characterised them in youth. Stately, 
 perhaps, is not a very accurate word to employ 
 in describing her, for she moved with a certain 
 amount of rustling and bustling which was not 
 very dignified : '' buxom," in its modern and very 
 incorrect usage, would convey a more accurate 
 impression of her appearance. She had hardly 
 entered the room before she broke silence. 
 
 '' Dear me, Arnold, how funny it seems to see 
 you again to be sure, and so changed you are I 
 Well I declare, if you haven't grown a beard ! now 
 really, that is too dreadful of you. And you're 
 looking pretty well after all your wanderings, 
 only you're so sun-burnt, and I'm sure we've 
 been in terror all the time for fear you might be 
 catching Eoman fever or something. Oh, Mr. 
 Paston ! how d'you do. Very glad to see you, 
 I'm sure. A medical student I think you said, 
 my dear ? " quoth the good lady, turniog to her 
 husband, and then meandering on aimlessly, 
 " and there ! the Jarrow^s haven't arrived yet ! 
 I do hope the dinner w^on't get spoiled." 
 
 She subsided comfortably into a chair, and 
 began talking at Paston : persisting in her notion 
 that that sober and successful young practitioner
 
 PROFESSIOXAL ADVICE. 35 
 
 was still walking the hospitals. Paston, who 
 was a misogynist at the best of times, felt more 
 keenl}^' than ever that women were a futile and 
 unnecessary section of creation. For Mrs. Dalton 
 was one of those persons who can never keep 
 their minds to any one subject for five consecu- 
 tive minutes. Carelessly brought up herself, she 
 had never learnt to think, and had brought up 
 her own family about as badly as might be. Grace 
 had escaped from her influence to a great extent 
 by having spent much of her life at school under 
 extremely judicious management. But the tw^o 
 sons, Willie and Frank, had been less fortunate. 
 The former had been taken in charge by a good- 
 natured cousin in Texas, and had settled down 
 on the other side of the Atlantic to the sowing 
 of exceedingly tame oats. But the younger, 
 Frank, a hulking cub of about nineteen, had 
 been thoroughly spoiled in his youth by his 
 mother, and after a sudden and unexplained 
 termination of his career at school, had settled 
 down to waste his time thoroughly at a private 
 tutor's. 
 
 While Mrs. Dalton monopolised Paston, to that 
 worthy's exceeding discomfort, Arnold and Grace 
 had greeted each other with much warmth. 
 
 " Well, Grace, it's a treat to see you again after 
 all this time," said Arnold, as he took her hand. 
 
 " Thank you," she replied with a curtsey. 
 
 1) 2
 
 36 / ARNOLD EOBUH. 
 
 " But you don't seem to have been very miser- 
 able during your absence/' 
 
 " Well, perhaps I haven't been shedding many 
 tears — but even the gayest of wanderers likes to 
 see the familiar faces again. Letters are all very 
 well ; but they aren't the real thing. Now tell 
 me all about everything." 
 
 So they sat down together and talked about 
 places that Arnold had been to, and compared 
 notes about cathedrals, and discussed landscapes 
 for a few minutes — Mrs. Dalton's alarm about 
 the dinner had been quite uncalled for, as the 
 appointed hour had not yet arrived — till they 
 got tired of that, and came round to local 
 matters. 
 
 " How's old John the gardener been getting 
 on ? " inquired Arnold. *^ The children were over 
 on a visit to Mrs. Marchpane this morning, and 
 looked flourishing. That youngest kid — Tommy, 
 the mop-headed one — looked as if he migbt 
 be given to mischief. He certainly has theories 
 about the absorption of cake — I saw him stow a 
 great slice as big as his head. And he appre- 
 ciated a penny for goodies hugely. By the way, 
 he informed me that his principal consolation in 
 life was ' buUs'-eyes.' Did you ever try a bull's- 
 eye ? " 
 
 " Arnold, how can you ! Of course not : at 
 least not since I was ever so small — they look so
 
 PEOFE.S.SIOyAL ADVICE. 37 
 
 nasty and sticky. Biu old Jchn"s verv v.-^H. 
 He has a twinge of ' rooma::z," c- Le l: -^: it. 
 now and then. Did I t-.x y;-.; ..:,..:.;;: nis 
 joke / '■' 
 
 ArncLi turned and gazed at Grace witk ex- 
 aggerated astcniskm-nt. 
 
 '' Hi- j'jk- ] " k- rraid. " Joknk k'ke ; Grace !'* 
 Ske nodded. •'"' Yes, it's quite true." 
 ''T\'ky. tke world inu-t k- cci::iL_ ~o an end! 
 It must kave kurt kim badiy to yrok.;:--: i","" 
 
 ''TT^^lk k- liidn't se-m muck k_-: v:.:r--:-. and 
 peri...y- dc 'kdn't mean it fur a kk-: k::::-kk I 
 found knn in tke consc-rvatory :dv '::-_.: ./.v, 
 watering kis kow.;-:-. >-:' I ti.vugk: I v,-iy.;.d 
 inLrcticte n:v^vl: -rkk^ ike: :, i::k>. ;::.'. " :-_/.n 
 compi:n,.c.:::_- iec: ::^ i_:^ -'iTi;::; .i; Icm.-.' 
 He w-,, ^::.>^^: iZ z:-. ..Ld .c: .ci:-;- :c:::::c;.li- 
 cative. 'Aye, aye, Miss." i_: ci. -^:: ^--i.zly : 
 'tkey alius grows wdl 'ere — cv-r sin' I . ic ; a. , 
 Seoms to me as if tk-rir w^-rv n;c::e -i__ ;_::-■-. 
 k>w grateful tk-ry wc- i.o c-^ 1 ._y^v :: 'v:-i — 
 Glory to Jokn ! ko'jks m'j-: ii.: ; :. '.v^c-v. y- :•;.-- 
 "em. a patent, don't 'e V ' A p:\t-nt. J^'kn," said 
 I. -L-. Mi-; s^v^ ke. -" ■- ' ^~ -rA 
 a put-i.: >j- ; A iign: u„v/„... _-- i^--. . :: . I 
 asked if ke meant a portent * 'Spos- I '.:-:-. 
 "iMiss, as you says su ! ' was the only ai_--:.":r I 
 could get out of him. He _ - - lilky at being 
 corrected, and curled ur in ia- -_. k ac'ain."
 
 38 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Grace's account of the old gardener was life- 
 like, and Arnold laughed heartily over it. 
 
 " I suppose you heard that Mr. Armitage has 
 been made a Canon ? " said Grace, when they 
 had finished enjoying John's joke. 
 
 " A Canon ? No, I hadn't heard. By Jove, 
 I'm glad to hear that. He deserves it, certainly. 
 I hope it won't take him from the neighbourhood." 
 
 " No," said the girl, " it's at Copesbury ; he's 
 coming here to-night." 
 
 And at that moment, the new Canon was 
 announced. He was vicar of Burfield, and 
 Arnold knew him well, and left Grace to shake 
 hands with him and congratulate him on his 
 promotion. 
 
 Armitage was a tall and somewhat imposing 
 man ; rather pale and care-worn, perhaps, for his 
 years — he was still in the prime of manhood — 
 but muscular, and of an easy upright carriage. 
 Probably the slightly fatigued expression of his 
 face was exaggerated by the fact that he shaved 
 clean — a practice which, when indulged in by a 
 naturally dark-haired man, is wont to add to the 
 appearance of weariness. He was a man of wide 
 culture, as only the best men in his profession 
 usually are, unhappily ; and Arnold had always 
 entertained a high regard for him, heightened by 
 an inclination to pity him as the victim of a 
 certain obliquity of mental vision. The Canon
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 39 
 
 was a baclielor; lie was indeed one of those men 
 whom it is hard to conceive of as anything but 
 bachelors. The foolish est ewe in all his flock 
 had long given up the dream that he might one 
 day marry. Not that he entertained strong 
 views on the subject of priestly celibacy ; but 
 for himself, he felt that the Bride of Christ 
 needed all his poor devotion. He had the air 
 which is inseparably associated with ]3arsons of 
 high-church views ; yet he was by no means a 
 narrow-minded man ; preferring for his own part 
 to be strict in the matter of forms and cere- 
 monies, but being ready to allow a larger latitude 
 to those whose opinions did not coincide in every 
 detail with his own. But moderation and breadth 
 of view were not in his case at any rate the 
 outcome of vacillation and vagueness. On the 
 contrary, he was a man of marked firmness and 
 clearheadedness ; and in the range of questions 
 in which he was directly interested he had long 
 ago made up his mind thoroughly, and was pre- 
 pared to abide by his decisions. 
 
 Conversing with such a mind, Arnold naturally 
 experienced the strong attraction of a character 
 so unlike his own ; and it was with hearty good- 
 will that the two men now shook hands, when 
 Mrs. Dalton descended upon the new arrival. 
 
 " How do you do, Canon Armitage ? There ! 
 I'm sure you've been overworking yourself again.
 
 40 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Just look at liim, Arnold ! doesn't he look dread- 
 fully tired ? So you see we've got Arnold back 
 again, Canon Armitage. Don't you think he's 
 dreadfully altered ? and with a beard too ; I'm 
 sure I wish he'd shave it off, though they do 
 say it's a great protection to the throat in cold 
 weather. Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Jarrow " — as 
 two ladies entered, " you remember Arnold, don't 
 you ? " . . . and so on and so on. 
 
 Mrs. Jarrow and her daughter were neighbours, 
 and their arrival completed the party. Dinner 
 was announced almost immediately, and they 
 paired off, — the Canon with the hostess, Paston 
 with Grace Dalton. 
 
 The doctor resolved to make the best of a bad 
 job, and lay himself out to be agreeable ; with a 
 firm belief in his own mind that such efforts must 
 be vain with a daughter of Mrs. Dalton's. Now, 
 when a man has made up his mind that his 
 companion is stupid, his conversation is not likely 
 to be of the finest kind, however anxious he may 
 be to try and please. He generally manages to 
 hit on the wrong topics : and is apt to assume an 
 air of condescension, unwittingly. 
 
 " We doctors," he remarked, " seldom get 
 much of ladies' society ; and when we do, we 
 like to make the most of it." 
 
 That was not a particularly happy beginning. 
 
 " Oh," said Grace, " I should have thought
 
 TROFESSIOXAL ADVICE. 41 
 
 you would have plenty of lady patients ; don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Well, yes : but tbey hardly count ; they only 
 talk about their ailments, and that's monotonous 
 — unless there happens to be an interesting case." 
 
 " Then you don't like to confine yourself to 
 strictly professional subjects ? I wonder you 
 find time to go in for other things." Grace did 
 not speak with interest ; the fact being that 
 she wanted to hear what Arnold was saying to 
 Miss Jarrow : an uninteresting nondescript young 
 lady, to whom our friend was talking the barest 
 commonplaces. Seeing that Mrs. Dalton was 
 rattling forth volleys of very wildly aimed con- 
 versation at'Armitage, Grace found considerable 
 difficulty in attaining her desire, and very little 
 satisfaction when she succeeded. 
 
 "Oh yes," said the doctor, "we go in for a 
 good many things." 
 
 '* Can you talk about them ? " said Grace 
 mischievously. She found Paston a little dull. 
 The doctor chuckled cheerfully. 
 
 "A good lot of them — take the first thing to 
 hand. Fish. Well, I own to knowing more 
 about them out of water than in it. But there's 
 a romance about catching them — when you can 
 do it. How jolly to think of steaming days 
 spent in peaceful repose by the margin of river 
 or lake watching your float bob up and down ;
 
 42 ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 or luring tlie guileful trout with the yet more 
 guileful fly ! How blissful the remembrance of 
 hours passed in scudding over the wine- dark 
 sea trolling for mackerel, when the stormy winds 
 do blow, having first lined your bark with well- 
 laid sacks of sand ! Or rocking gently in some 
 sheltered bay to feel for the distant tug of plaice 
 or sole, or to lure from his low lair the casual 
 conger ! Passing sweet — if your stomach can 
 stand it." 
 
 But all Paston's grandiloquence, to say nothing 
 of his anticlimax, seemed wasted on his com- 
 panion. In fact, it may be doubted if many 
 young ladies would have found the doctor's 
 discourse altog^ether enliveninoj. 
 
 " I don't care for the sea " was all she said. 
 Paston felt damped, and relapsed ; however, 
 Grace felt that was a little hard, and remarked 
 that " doctors seemed very fond of the sea, 
 at least they were always sending people to 
 it." 
 
 But Paston was sulky, and answered rather 
 defiantly. 
 
 '' I don't know that we're always over fond of 
 our own prescriptions. Miss Dalton, any more 
 than parsons are of their own precepts. I never 
 could swallow a jdIII myself." 
 
 The little side-hit at the cloth drew Armitage 
 into the conversation.
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 43 
 
 '' We don't profess to be very different from 
 other people," he said with a smile. 
 
 '' Extremely glad to hear it," replied the pug- 
 nacious doctor with an innocent air ; "I always 
 fancied that some preachers found their way into 
 the pulpit by accident." 
 
 " I can't deny it altogether, I fear," said the 
 clergyman ; "at any rate, the reproach is truer 
 of our profession than of yours. Still, we are 
 jDrepared to accept the responsibility of our 
 teaching. Pulpit utterances, I fully believe, are 
 almost always conscientious. And though we 
 may make mistakes, we have at least as much 
 faith in our drugs as the other recipients." 
 
 " Dear me, Canon Armitage, what do you 
 mean ? surely you don't go about giving medi- 
 cine, and goodness knows what mayn't happen ! 
 You might make ever such mistakes you know, 
 and I'm sure I don't know what I should do if 
 I tried." 
 
 Thus Mrs. Dalton, who had gone astray during 
 these remarks. Paston dropped into grim silence. 
 He did not see that, even if Armitage was right, 
 that tended to diminish the risk of the recipients 
 of clerical nostrums. " Doctors and parsons," 
 he said to Arnold when they were alone after- 
 wards, " are paid for exactly opposite reasons 
 — we for saying what we believe, and they 
 for believing what they say." For the time.
 
 44 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 however, he held his tongue. For he considered 
 Grace a failure, and to have continued his con- 
 versation with Armitage would have been a 
 heinous offence. Talking one's own " shop " is 
 visited as a social misdemeanour, but beside 
 talking other people's shop it fades into in- 
 significance. Not that these said other people 
 resent the liberty — it gives them opportunities 
 of discoursing with authority : the whipsters 
 who hang on to the skirts of a profession, and 
 the crowd of the uninformed, are the injured 
 parties. 
 
 " Stick to your last," shriek Booby Primus 
 and Secundus, when any one tries to desert his 
 narrow groove in search of novelty ; "no dilet- 
 tantism here." Booby Primus and Secundus 
 have never had a last to stick to, and so long 
 as they bully other people into closing their 
 eyes deliberately to the nine hundred and 
 ninety-nine objects of concern which are not 
 situated vertically beneath their respective noses, 
 and restrict their blinking attention to the 
 thousandth which is, they can manage to do 
 pretty well without. The method is childishly 
 easy ; all you have to do is to set the folks with 
 one idea by the ears. These ideas being different 
 in each case, and mutually exclusive, Booby 
 will be hugely diverted by the consequent cross- 
 purposes, and laugh till the tears run down his
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 45 
 
 face. Stupid silence or equally foolisli talk is 
 the grand result of this manoeuvring ; every man 
 is as good as his neighbour, and thus the reign 
 of Boobydom is perpetuated. Modern English 
 society has long been a prey to this levelling 
 system, and has gradually accustomed itself to the 
 delusion that the many-sided man is its enemy, 
 and must be coldly discountenanced. The only 
 weak point in the Booby intrigue is that no 
 provision has been made for repelling the inter- 
 loper when he chooses to act on the offensive. 
 Close up, ye champions of platitude, and defend 
 the breach, or your foes may rush in and dis- 
 mantle your fortress of Dulness. 
 
 In due course Arnold's health was drunk, and 
 every one said how glad they were to see him 
 back again for good, and meant it too. The 
 young fellow was a favourite among his neigh- 
 bours, especially the simpler ones. The men 
 liked him for always being on the look-out to 
 do them little turns in an unpretending way. 
 He did not come among them with new theories 
 which they could not understand, or interfere 
 with their buying and selling where and how 
 they liked : and he possessed that tact which is 
 above all thins^s needfal to secure influence, if it 
 is to be real yet not tyrannical. For the women, 
 the good souls had always taken a motherly 
 interest in the motherless lad ; it was with
 
 46 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 something of a sense of property in him that 
 they had watched him grow from weakness to 
 strength ; and his better qualities were in no 
 small degree due to their kindly sympathy. 
 And had they been drawn to him by nothing 
 else, he would have won their hearts by his 
 popularity with the little ones ; for he had that 
 instinct of playfulness which would have made 
 it no purgatory to him to have realised Boswell's 
 notion of being shut up with an infant in a 
 solitary castle — a state of feeling comparatively 
 rare with young men. In short, he loved " all 
 things both great and small " — yet, if the poet's 
 words be true, prayer cannot be that which it 
 is commonly taken to be : for, if prayer be the 
 offering up of petitions, Arnold Eobur did not 
 pray.
 
 AFTER DIXNER. 47 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 AFTER DINGER. 
 
 " Rather I prize the doubt 
 Low kinds exist without, 
 Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark." 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 Genius has been defined as a capacity for re- 
 mainiDg a child though old in years. It is the 
 thought of Wordsworth's ' Ode ' over as^ain ; 
 essentially modern and characteristic of this 
 baby-worshipping age — the baby-worship being 
 after all nothing but the old hero and ancestor- 
 worship in a new form, since the child is father 
 of the man. Mothers, and j^erhaps fathers, have 
 probably always worshipped their own children 
 w^hen they have had leisure to do so ; but who 
 used ever to worship other people's ? The fact 
 is we have suddenly discovered the charm because 
 we see in them representations of ourselves in 
 that ancestral condition when we were king-s and 
 queens in our little world vrith none but a few 
 loyal subjects and faithful friends; kings and
 
 48 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 queens not harassed by affairs of state either, 
 but able to let the morrow take care of itself. 
 
 William Armitage was no genius, but he had 
 a large share of the simplicity of genius and of 
 childhood. Born of good family, sent to a public 
 school and thence to Oxford, he had taken orders 
 not long after his degree. Though he had every 
 chance of preferment, no one who knew him 
 could have suspected him of any but the highest 
 motives, or accused him even to themselves of 
 that hankering after the loaves and fishes which 
 is unfortunately so common a reason with those 
 who enter the service of the Church at the 
 present day. Nor did he seek advancement 
 when once in orders. Indeed he rather avoided 
 it, and rose more because it was his nature to 
 rise than from any effort on his own part. His 
 allegiance to the faith of his fathers was given in 
 later years with the same unquestioning reverence 
 for authority which had been taught to his child- 
 hood. His surroundings at Oxford had been of 
 precisely the sort to foster scepticism. His 
 friends had been intellectual men, and few such 
 pass through the period of college life, when 
 they are beginning to know their own powers, 
 without feeling the necessity for religious specu- 
 lation. Yet he had hardly been touched by 
 scepticism. Nor was his belief of that form 
 which is most nearlv akin to atheism, the blind
 
 AFTER DINNER. ^ 49 
 
 unheeding assent of thoughtlessness and conven- 
 tionality, A scholar and first-class man and a 
 fellow of his present college, he was and had 
 always been a religious man in the truest sense 
 of the word. He had both the will and the 
 power to think : and if he found the difficulties 
 of his position less formidable than his neigh- 
 bours did, it was neither by failing to grasp them 
 nor by logically overcoming them, but by accept- 
 ing; them with the humilitv of strenoth. The 
 freedom of thought and discussion in a circle of 
 college friends had enabled him to be in sym- 
 pathy with those who thought differently from 
 himself, so that Oxford had supplied what he 
 most wanted, and what Oxford can best supply, 
 a spirit of religious liberality and tolerance. In 
 short, early training had made him a churchman, 
 and intellectual development had saved him 
 from becoming a bigot. "Without being perfect 
 he was a clergyman of the best type that the 
 English Church can produce. For the rest, 
 though he was some years older than Arnold 
 Eobur, the two had long been fast friends, 
 and their conversation was not likely to be 
 limited to the commonplace topics of ordinarv 
 acquaintances. 
 
 Dinner passed off quietly enough that evening. 
 Paston and Grace Dalton kept up a desultory 
 conversation on nothing in particular, which was 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 really about the most edifying subject to be had. 
 Canon Armitage and Mrs. Dalton discussed 
 Church matters — who was to be the new Bishop, 
 and how Mr. Smith the last curate was orettino; 
 on in his living : while Mr. Dalton and Arnold 
 talked of our hero's travels and what he had seen 
 and done ; of German music, Swiss mountains, 
 and Italian cities. We really lose a great deal 
 of enjoyment by the headlong way in which we 
 take our pleasures now-a-days. The countryman 
 who after drinking a glass of liqueur asked for 
 " some o' that stuff in a moog " showed himself 
 susceptible to its allurements ; but his taste was 
 not considered unexceptionable. Do we show a 
 just appreciation of the good we can get out of 
 men and things by scampering across the con- 
 tinent in a few weeks' holiday ? To Mr. Dalton's 
 somewhat old-fashioned and stay-at-home ideas, 
 Arnold's talk of his travels, recalling as it did his 
 own younger days when he had been something 
 of a wanderer, remote and slow, though hardly 
 unfriended or melancholy, was a treat such as he 
 seldom enjoyed. And Arnold always liked a 
 talk with the old gentleman, whose shrewd home 
 thrusts and proverbs gave his conversation a 
 pleasant flavour of originality. 
 
 AVhen the ladies rose to withdraw, Arnold 
 held the door open for them to pass. 
 
 " I hope," he said to Grace, " you will excuse
 
 AFTEE DIXXER. 51 
 
 US if we are rather late in joining you. These 
 gentlemen are two of my greatest friends, and I 
 want them to know each other better." 
 
 " He should have apologised to us, Miss 
 Dalton," said Paston. 
 
 " Oh, you don't know his conceit as I do, Mr. 
 Paston," said Grace, speaking to Paston, but 
 smiling at Arnold. " He can't imagine people 
 not breaking their hearts in his absence." With 
 which Parthian shaft she passed out before he 
 could answer in self-defence. 
 
 The gentlemen reseated themselves, the wine 
 was passed round, and an aroma of tobacco was 
 shortly perceptible. 
 
 ''Well, Armitage," said Mr. Dalton, ''hoo's a' 
 wi' ye ? You and my wife have beeu talking so 
 hard I've hardly exchanged a word with you." 
 
 " Mrs. Dalton and I generally have something 
 to say to one another, sir ; we have a common 
 ground of interest in Church matters, if in 
 nothing else ; and Mrs. Dalton is always ready 
 to talk of them." 
 
 " Ay, let a woman begin clacking, and there's 
 no stopping her." 
 
 " A slander ! and none the truer because it's 
 old." 
 
 " None the truer because it's old ! Set him 
 up ! The world's mightily changed with you 
 Radicals since my day. I'm a Tory, and don't 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF. 
 unNOlS LIBRARY
 
 52 ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 believe in Women's Eights. No. I hold with 
 Plato — and Bartle Massey." 
 
 " And Monkbarns ! " said Armitage. " Good 
 authority certainly." 
 
 " Your modern clergyman," said Arnold, *' is 
 the worst of Eadicals in everything bub religion. 
 Who are you to sneer at authority, Armitage, 
 when your very existence is a standing confirm- 
 ation of its necessity ? " 
 
 " I suppose most heresies have been backed by 
 authority — of some kind/' retorted Armitage. 
 
 " Well, I musb leave you to fight it out, 
 gentlemen. I'm sorry to say I have some busi- 
 ness which can't wait," said Mr. Dalton, looking 
 at his watch, and withdrawing from the field and 
 the room. 
 
 " Well, Kobur," said Armitage, ^' you've seen 
 a good deal since we foregathered last, I suppose. 
 Did you get any climbing ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have been rather a rolling stone," said 
 Robur. " Oh yes ! I got some climbing both in 
 Switzerland and in the Eastern Alps — the Oetz- 
 thaler group and the Glockner range." 
 
 '' Grand work that snow-climbing, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Splendid ! I don't know anything finer 
 than snow at four in the morning to walk upon. 
 The springiest turf is nothing to it. Ice work is 
 all very well, but for pure undiluted pleasure in 
 the use of your limbs, give me an easy snow
 
 AFTER DINNER. 53 
 
 slope — crisp and firm, before the sun has softened 
 it, and not too fresh." 
 
 " And the air by itself makes yon feel twice 
 the man. One doesn't like to think of it in the 
 haunts of civilisation and black coats. It makes 
 one feel discontented with one's lot." 
 
 " And then the fresh morning light/' Arnold 
 continued in his rhapsody, " and seeing the early 
 rose-tints on the snow, and the mists sweeping 
 up from the valleys, while you hear nothing but 
 the rush of the rivers ever so far below ; and the 
 clouds gathering on the peaks ancl sweeping along 
 — giving you vistas ' through the opening of 
 cloud-curtains, through the doorways of the 
 heaven ' of immeasurable mountain-tops ; and 
 then veiling; them over ao^ain with a frino;e of 
 
 o o o 
 
 glory. There's nothing like it. But I w^as 
 much more in the plains and cities than among 
 the mountains," he concluded, returniug with a 
 laugh to earth. 
 
 " I didn't know you were such an enthusiast 
 on mountains," observed Paston. 
 
 " No more I am : except on occasion," said 
 Kobur. " But I don't sympathise with the 
 Yankee who said he liked travelling in Holland 
 best because there he could ^ smoke his cigar in 
 his carriage, and look out of this window and 
 out of that, and never see a bit of this damned 
 scenery all the way.' But I believe I enjoy
 
 54 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 myself really just about as mucli in a town. 
 There's plenty to see." 
 
 " Plenty ! " assented Armitage. '' Manners 
 and customs, if nothing else." 
 
 " And churches and picture-galleries," said 
 Paston. '' They are the stock things, I suppose ; 
 but one gets rather tired of them, perhaps for 
 that reason." 
 
 *' I don't easily get tired of pictures," said 
 Arnold. 
 
 '•' I don't see why the fact that they are the 
 ' stock things ' should make one tire of them," 
 observed Armitage. " Why should one object 
 to being like one's neighbours, and doing like 
 them too ? " 
 
 " That's Armitage all over," laughed Arnold. 
 " You don't seem to have any desire for origin- 
 ality, Armitage. You would be quite content if 
 every one were just like every one else. That's 
 your ecclesiastical doctrine of Conformity and 
 Finality over again, in another shape." 
 
 "Not exactly that," replied Armitage; "but 
 I don't altogether believe in originality." 
 
 " No. Vide Emerson. ' Every man is a 
 quotation from his ancestors,' &c." 
 
 " Vide Emerson, as you say. But what I 
 mean is that I don't believe in trying to be 
 original — in hankering after originality. If there 
 is anything new in you, or any power of putting
 
 AFTER DINNER. 55 
 
 what is old in a new way it will come out quite 
 as well or better without. Originality becomes 
 laboured and hateful when it is manifestly an 
 object, and obviously self-conscious." 
 
 " But it has been asserted," objected Paston, 
 " that all genius is self-conscious, and originality 
 is surely necessary to genius." 
 
 " I don't accept the assertion," said Armitage. 
 
 "Well, but take the case of your prophets, 
 your preachers of new gospels — your Kingsleys 
 and Carlyles. Are they not conscious that they 
 have something new to say ? " 
 
 " Perhaps. But at any rate they do not start 
 with the desire to say something new. If they 
 do, they are pretty sure to be false prophets. 
 The desire for notoriety brings people to grief 
 oftener than not ; and it is merely this desire 
 that is at the bottom of the love of being original 
 • — even of telling a new^ story." 
 
 " Either to tell or hear some new thins;," said 
 Paston. " Jove ; your Athenian of the first 
 century must have been a poor sort of creature. '^ 
 
 "The true pythoness," continued Armitage, 
 "knows that 'prophet' means 'interpreter' — 
 that she is inspired by a power other than her 
 own, and at a will outside herself. She who 
 dares unbidden to mount the tripod is an impostor 
 and adventurer." 
 
 " But it is a wider question than that," said
 
 56 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Arnold, " and I don't know that your argument 
 altogether applies. Take for instance the matter 
 of free thought and conformity. I can't abide 
 men who conform in religion simply because 
 their neighbours do." 
 
 " I don't know that I — or you either probably 
 — have much respect for men who refuse to 
 conform just because their neighbours do conform, 
 though." 
 
 " I don't remember any such," said Arnold. 
 " But it surely needs no demonstration that 
 there are plenty of men who believe — or rather 
 profess to themselves and their neighbours that 
 they believe, and succeed in persuading them- 
 selves and their neighbours of the fact, too — 
 surely there are plenty of men who conform in 
 this way simply from a desire to believe "? " 
 
 " I'm afraid there are," said Armitage, " but I 
 believe there are as many sceptics whose desire 
 of the truth is assumed, both to themselves 
 and others, to conceal the poverty of the true 
 reason." 
 
 " After all, is it not a laudable desire of liberty 
 that prompts them in any case ? " said Paston. 
 
 " That's the catch- word, doubtless," said Armi- 
 tage, " but any way I don't see that they gain 
 much by it. A state of habitual scepticism must 
 be very unhealthy, and irksome too, I think. 
 The believer is in any case at peace with himself."
 
 AFTER DINNER. 57 
 
 " An insecure peace," replied Paston, " and I 
 don't grant the unhealthiness." 
 
 "I do grant tke irksomeness/' said Robur ; 
 " I've been a rolling stone in more ways tlian 
 one, since last we met, Armitage.'' 
 
 " What, you haven't got over your old diffi- 
 culties in your travels ? " said Armitage. 
 
 " A rolling stone may not gather moss," said 
 *Paston stoutly, " but is moss the summiuii honum 
 of a stone after all ? And your rolling stone is 
 more likely to find a firm resting-place in the 
 end. I'm not so sure that I wouldn't rather 
 have my roll, and be done with it, than stay up 
 on the clifi* and think I'm fixed there for eternity, 
 when any little bit of an earthquake may really 
 set me going unexpectedly — or less — you don't 
 want earthquakes : ordinary frost and rain will 
 do as well." 
 
 " Which things are an allegory," said Arnold 
 laughing. " I hope you don't expose yourself 
 needlessly to the frost and rain, Armitage." 
 
 *' An argument from analogy ! And I don't 
 allow its validity. Besides, * if it comes to that, 
 sir,' the rolling stone — or rather the stone which 
 has rolled — is on a lower level, and has had a 
 fall." 
 
 " So be it : it has at least firm ground to 
 stand upon, which the other has not," said 
 Paston.
 
 58 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " So much for an analogy is all I can say," 
 replied Armitage. " Some of your sceptics don't 
 seem to stop at all, though." 
 
 '' Ah ! those Sisyphus-stones ? " said Paston, 
 triumphantly supporting his analogy. "They 
 can't stay at the bottom when they've got there, 
 but must get pushed up to the top of the hill 
 again, by some one else, observe. I don't call 
 that rolling. Your raons imjjwbus is scarcely 
 fair argument." 
 
 " So much for an analogy, again I say ! They 
 have themselves to thank for their scepticism. 
 The stoue didn't ask Sisyphus to push it up 
 again. But these men glory in their instability. 
 They would not have a fixed belief for worlds." 
 
 " Mere empty-headed wind-bags ! Shuttle- 
 cocks struck this way and that by the latest 
 novelty in free thought — slaves of the popular is 
 aura — weak fools who don't want to make up 
 their minds, for the very good reason that they 
 haven't any to make up. I don't call that 
 scepticism. They are readers of the monthlies 
 and the weeklies — students of ephemeral litera- 
 ture — don't know a good argument from a bad 
 when they see it. They are like the unclean 
 spirit, — walk through dry places seeking rest and 
 finding none, because they don't know how to 
 look for it," said Paston, warming to his work. 
 
 " And the last state of that man is worse than
 
 AFTER DINNER. 59 
 
 tlie first," observed Arnold diyly : " we'll omit 
 the other seven." 
 
 " No, I like a thorough sceptic," proceeded 
 Paston, with the bit now^ well between his teeth : 
 " I like a man who will examine his principles 
 and free them from inconsistencies if he can — • 
 wdio hates compromises, and half measures, and 
 heeltaps, and is not afraid of hard names. If 
 I may use my stone-analogy once more — posi- 
 tively the last appearance ; have you ever 
 
 noticed if you roll stones down a mountain-side 
 how some of them are for ever pretending to 
 stop and then rolling on a little further, pausing 
 again, and then taking another roll ? I hate 
 that shilly-shallying, dilettante sort of method. 
 I like the rock that goes down in huge bounds 
 and buries itself in turf at the bottom. It doesn't 
 always go further than the other, and it may 
 knock ofi" more corners — they are mere anomalies 
 which may w^ell be spared — but it will never 
 remain in a precarious position." 
 
 '' I fear the analogy is not so certain to land 
 us on firm ground," said Armitage. " But to 
 return to our shuttlecocks. I am glad to have 
 your authority for despising them. I always 
 find them the most disagreeable people in the 
 world ; because they are the most dogmatic, and 
 have the least right to be so on their own 
 principles."
 
 GO ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 ^'Oh yes!" said Arnold, ''would that tliey 
 would confine themselves consistently, like the 
 New Academy, to the doctrine that they can 
 know nothing — not even the fact of that very 
 ignorance of wdiicli they assert themselves to be 
 aware ! " 
 
 " It's all of a piece," said Paston ; '' they are 
 always pleased with each new article they read, 
 and hold it with the utmost tenacity until it is 
 bowled over in the next number of some other 
 magazine. For their own oracles they have the 
 most absurd reverence — for the scriptam est of 
 their peculiar organ : and accordingly they 
 generally end in taking orders in the English 
 Church — if I may be pardoned for saying so." 
 
 " Pray don't apologise," said Armitage, to 
 whom the last remark was more particularly 
 addressed. " I always think it hard that people 
 should look upon it as a breach of etiquette to 
 speak out the truth before a clergyman. Fm 
 afraid that in itself is not altogether a good sign 
 of the position of the Church just now." 
 
 '•' I suppose nobody is apt to be over well 
 pleased by home-truths as to the state of his 
 own profession," observed Paston. 
 
 " No, but surely a clergyman ought to be the 
 last man to wish to shut his eyes to the facts, 
 however unpleasant they may be." 
 
 " It always strikes me as particularly absurd,"
 
 AFTER DIXXEK. 61 
 
 said Arnold, '' to hear a man come out with an 
 oath in the presence of a clergyman and then 
 apologise for it. It's as if he thought he ought 
 to be on his crood behaviour before the cloth — as 
 if clergymen were to be censors over us, not 
 sympathisers with us, to be dreaded, not con- 
 fided in : it's a separation of clergy from laity, 
 and defrauding them of their humanity, w^hich I 
 never can subscribe to." 
 
 " That's all very well in the abstract," said 
 Paston. " Homo sum no doubt ought to be the 
 clergyman's principle, above all men. But I can 
 understand the feeling with many clergymen — 
 men who have no sympathy with you ; and to 
 whose profession you feel bound to pay the 
 respect which you often do not feel for them- 
 selves." 
 
 " But I don't see that the fact of the quondam 
 sceptic generally ending in taking orders is at all 
 a bad sign necessarily of the state of the Church," 
 said Armitage. " We generally rather pride our- 
 selves on having room for all shades of opinion in 
 the Enoiish Church." 
 
 o 
 
 *' Yes, but I think a good many of them aren't 
 quoadam sceptics — if you can call it scejDticism at 
 all," said Paston. " It's mere lip-conformity in 
 many cases. I fancy there's a good deal of 
 atheism among the clergy — atheism, that is, not 
 of denial, but of indifference — atheism of the
 
 62 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Gallic type. One often hears of men joining the 
 Church of Eome, when, from what one knows of 
 their habits of thought, one may feel quite sure 
 that it is only a cutting of the Gordian knot, an 
 escape from doubts aad difficulties which they 
 have not the courage or the strength to face 
 fairly. That is a kind of intellectual teetotalism 
 which I think can only be defended in the case 
 of habitual drunkards, whose strength of mind is 
 destroyed by a course of uninterrupted excesses." 
 " But your catholicity of the English Church 
 is gained at the expense of an illogical positioD," 
 said Arnold. '' It's neither one thing nor another. 
 It pretends to be dogmatic, and requires assent to 
 certain articles of faith — and a large section of it 
 certainly does believe in them and require other 
 people to believe in them too. But many men 
 — religious men, I mean — not your lip-servants, 
 Paston — do enter the service of the Church 
 without assenting otherwise than verbally to 
 the Articles. At least, if not, they use the term 
 assent in a sense which is not only different from, 
 but almost diametrically opposed to, the ordinary 
 
 one." 
 
 " At any rate," answered Armitage, " their 
 object is right enough ; and they can see no 
 other method of serving God in the way they 
 w^ant to, giving up, that is, their lives to His 
 service, than by taking orders. Are they then
 
 AFTER DINNER. 63 
 
 to surrender tlieir purpose because of the diffi- 
 culties of couforming, when after all their assent 
 is understood by every one to be a mere matter 
 of form ? " 
 
 "I didn't know," said Arnold, "that the 
 English Church accepted the principle of doing 
 evil that good may come. However I don't 
 mind individuals holding such an opinion — 
 they've got a perfect right to it. But my 
 quarrel is not with them, but with the position 
 of the Church, which makes it necessary." 
 
 "But the English Church aims at being; 
 Catholic, and any such comprehensiveness must 
 by the nature of the case be based on com- 
 promise." 
 
 " That compromise is just what I object to. 
 Look where it leads. Legal fictions are all very 
 well. Law is a matter between man and man, 
 and there can be no objection to your saying 
 one thing and meaning another, provided the 
 person to whom you say it understands what 
 you actually do mean. But when it comes to 
 your subscribing to what you don't believe, in 
 the very act of the dedication of your life to 
 the service of the God of Truth — when that 
 nominal assent is an integral part of the act of 
 dedication — well, all I can say is, it doesn't seem 
 to me to look well for the system which makes 
 it necessary."
 
 64 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 " ' Wliat moderation, and understatement, and 
 checking his thunder in mid-volley,'" quoted 
 Armitage, smiling. " But really after all it's 
 merely a matter between a man and his bishop. 
 Not to mention that there are few beliefs which 
 cannot be reconciled with the Articles." 
 
 " It's rather significant," retorted Arnold, 
 somewhat bitterly, " that a priest of the English 
 Church should say so. But my dear Armitage," 
 he continued more quietly, " surely you can 
 hardly look upon all this as healthy ? A man 
 once called me a purist for holding these views. 
 Perhaps I am : but surely the clergy, if any one, 
 ought to be purists in such matters." 
 
 "And if the Articles are no test of faith," 
 added Paston, pertinently, "why in the name 
 of goodness keep out good men by retaining 
 them ^ " 
 
 "They're ornamental," said Arnold: "relics 
 of antiquity — serve to link the present with 
 the past — Palladium of British Liberties with 
 a capital L, you know, like Magna Charta and 
 Habeas Corpus." 
 
 " There's a good deal in that, though you do 
 say it with a sneer, Eobur," said Armitage, good- 
 humouredly. " Not that I deny that we are 
 much in need of some reforms in the English 
 Church. But I think there's a practical use in 
 the retention of the Articles, beyond the fact
 
 AFTER DIXNER. 6. J 
 
 that they belong to the past and mark the 
 Church as a historic one. They serve as a bond 
 for rather heterogeneous materials, and hold the 
 Church together, while they don't seriously affect 
 its catholicity. Take away the Articles, and I 
 am afraid the result would be a rapid disinte- 
 gration." 
 
 *' I rather doubt the disintegration," said 
 Paston, ^'and I don't see that much o-ood is srained 
 by combining heterogeneous materials with what 
 seems to me a sham bond. When people gener- 
 ally agreed to interpret the Articles of faith in 
 one way, there was some point in it : but surely 
 we have outgrown that ; and I am certain that 
 they keep out a number of good men by reason 
 of that very conscientiousness which would 
 otherwise make them most useful." 
 
 '' Of course the whole thing is a compromise," 
 said Armitage, "and compromise is only justified 
 by circumstances : and as circumstances are 
 bound to alter, compromise should always be 
 elastic." 
 
 " Only you think," said Arnold, " that this 
 compromise has been sufficiently elastic. Well, 
 I don't. Look at the unity of the Church now. 
 It is split up into wrangling and mutually 
 hostile parties : one side can't let the others 
 worship in their ow^n way, but must even suborn 
 men to create litigations — artificially produce 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 66 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 'aggrieved parishioners' to object to matters of 
 millinery and ceremony : while the Broad Church 
 party, who try to keep clear of both, and to be 
 really catholic, are placed in a false position and 
 abused by both sides." 
 
 " But if ordinances and tests of faith were 
 abolished," objected Armitage, *' the narrow- 
 minded party, or rather, the party who like a 
 narrow, sharply-defined Mth, would secede." 
 
 " I think not, if the Church were not dis- 
 established," said Arnold. 
 
 '' Could such a reform be effected without 
 disestablishment ? " said Armitage. 
 
 " Good riddance too if they did secede," said 
 Paston. "They would not flourish any more 
 than they are doing now. And the Church 
 would be the better for having got rid of 
 them." 
 
 " The Church would certainly be as well able 
 to stand without them/' said Arnold. " But as 
 to your question, Armitage, I certainly was not 
 contemplating disestablishment or disendowment. 
 I think the abolition of tests — or a very great 
 modification at least, — and perhaps — though I 
 know you'll object to this — the participation of 
 the laity in Church government, — I think these 
 two reforms could stand alone, and would do a 
 great deal to remedy the evils which seem to 
 me, perhaps, greater than they do to you. But
 
 AFTER DIXXEK. 07 
 
 after all, you know," he concluded with a smile, 
 '•'lookers on see most of the game, and I'm a 
 looker on." 
 
 *' You'll take a hand before long, I've no 
 doubt," said Armitage, smiling in turn. '' I 
 certainly don't accept your idea of lay govern- 
 ment, though. The Church ought to be a 
 Theocracy, not a Democracy." 
 
 '' Vox popidi vox Dei,'' said Paston. 
 " I don't object to that principle as applied 
 to politics," answered Armitage : " I should be 
 very sorry to see a priest-ridden state : but when 
 it comes to Church matters I dissent." 
 
 " And yet you stand up for Church and 
 State," said Arnold. 
 
 "I do, so far as the preservation of a close 
 connexion between them is concerned." 
 
 " What a lover of compromise you are, 
 Armitage ! " said Arnold. " Your views are 
 always modified by circumstances. They never 
 seem to be ideal." 
 
 " If they are practical I am satisfied," said 
 Armitage; *' I retort your homo sum. Man is 
 by nature a political animal, and therefore a 
 practical one, for society is based upon com- 
 promise. It is absurd to say that we are not 
 the creatures of circumstances : so far from being 
 able to rule them, we are fortunate if we can 
 modify our ends to suit them.'' 
 
 F 2
 
 68 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 Armitage's imperturbable good temper was 
 one of the strongest links between him and 
 Arnold, while Armitage was always much 
 attracted by Arnold's earnest and sometimes 
 enthusiastic way of attacking a question. By 
 this time each of them knew that he could say 
 to the other things that he could not say 
 to any chance acquaintance : and the very 
 divergence of their views on many topics seemed 
 to draw them closer together, because it really 
 indicated that the tempers of their two minds 
 were to a great degree complemeutary of one 
 another. 
 
 The conversation gradually turned from eccle- 
 siastical to political questions, and thence to 
 matters of general interest, the news of the day, 
 dynamite, crofters, relations with our colonies 
 and with foreign powers ; and it was a good 
 while before they adjourned to the drawing- 
 room and found Grace Dalton presidiug over 
 the coffee. 
 
 " You must have been discussing something 
 interesting all this time," she said to Paston : 
 " something too high for the flippant feminine 
 miud." 
 
 " By no means," said Arnold, anticipating 
 Paston's reply : "I assure you we've been as 
 dull as possible : only after that last remark of
 
 AFTER DINNER. 69 
 
 yours, I thought we* had better not show our- 
 selves too soon." 
 
 "Ah! it rankled, did it?" said Grace. 
 " Well, you've taken your revenge." 
 
 "At the expense of — well, of a taradiddle," 
 observed Paston. "We've really had a very 
 lively discussion." 
 
 " I assure you I've been getting badly 
 mauled," said Armitage, cheerfully. " Won't 
 you sing something. Miss Dalton, to remedy 
 the depressing effects of the treatment I've been 
 undergoing ? " 
 
 Grace Dalton had a slight but pleasant voice, 
 and sang with taste — in short her performances 
 might be called pretty, though nothing more. 
 Generally, however, the effect was marred by 
 ]\Irs. Dalton's invariable habit of not ceasing to 
 talk in a loud voice the whole time. On this 
 occasion she victimised Paston, the ' medical 
 student' as she insisted on supposing him to 
 be, and would talk of nothing but doctors and 
 doctoring, in a way that caused him intense 
 agony — not only from her gauclierie in the 
 treatment of the subject, but also from his own 
 desire to listen to Grace, his wish not to be 
 rude to Mrs. Dalton (a wish all the more power- 
 ful from her own rudeness to him), and a feel- 
 ing that he was aiding and abetting, however
 
 70 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 unwillingly, the crime of interrupting good music. 
 Arnold tried to relieve him, but Mrs. Dalton 
 was far too pertinacious for that to succeed. 
 The others, however, were not much disturbed 
 by this piece of ill - breeding, for they were 
 accustomed to it, and for them the evening 
 passed off pleasantly enough.
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 7 1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 
 
 " A child, more than all other gifts 
 
 Brings hope with it, and forward looking thoughts, 
 And stirrings of inquietude, when they 
 By tendency of nature needs must fail." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 AYhen the ' perfeckly orful-looking female ' 
 exclaimed to Artemus Ward, ' You are my 
 Affinerty ! ' he not unnaturally shouted, ' What 
 upon arth is that '? ' And when she, incredulous 
 of his ignorance, proceeded to ask, ' Dost thou 
 not know ' ? he answered defiantly, ' N'o, I 
 dostent.' Most people are like Artemus Ward 
 in this, in spite of much good authority from 
 Aristophanes downwards ; and, however it may be, 
 it is certain that some people come across and 
 o^et attached to not their Affinities but their 
 Antitheses ; and that without always ending in 
 a divorce-court. 
 
 Mr. Dalton was one of these unfortunate men. 
 His partner in life was a good-hearted, com- 
 fortable w^oman whose absolute want of tact
 
 72 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 and invariable way of saying tlie wrong thing — 
 unless by accident — would bave been most ex- 
 asperating to a nervous or fastidious man ; the 
 more exasperating because there was no malice 
 about it. Mr. Dalton was a man of considerable 
 refinement of taste, and no one knew how keenly 
 he felt his wife's shortcomings. His own manner 
 among strangers was polished : in his own home- 
 circle and among those he knew well there was 
 a certain homeliness and freedom of expression 
 sometimes amounting to brusqueness : but it 
 seldom gave offence, because, as a rule, it was 
 only used where it was understood. He was 
 generally looked upon as a shrewd man with a 
 will of his own, and well able to take care that 
 he had that will. At the same time it was 
 whispered that his wife ruled him — that, as he 
 himself would have put it, ' the gray mare was 
 the better horse.' This calumny, however, was 
 due solely to the inability on the part of the 
 calumniators to understand why he should have 
 married such a wife, unless she made him do so. 
 Those who knew him well, knew that he was 
 master in his own house ; and further, that 
 although he had a will of his own he had also a 
 soft place in his heart, which suggested a possible 
 explanation of the situation, and in fact the 
 true one. Few people knew that he had married 
 Mrs. Dalton more out of pity than love, when
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 73 
 
 slie was left alone in the world on tlie death of 
 her mother, and when their relations had been at 
 first entirely owing to the consequent; business 
 transactions. This fact was a key to his char- 
 acter, Unless he had changed a good deal 
 since the time of his marriage, he had probably 
 abused himself pretty soundly for his folly, and 
 been quite aware of the defects of his intended 
 before he married her. But he never cried over 
 spilt milk, and whatever may have been his feel- 
 ings, no word of complaint had ever betrayed 
 them to his wife or anyone else. In the same 
 way, in his dealings with other men his bark 
 was always worse than his bite. He would 
 grumble, and abuse any applicant for a favour, 
 and himself for being such a fool as to listen to 
 them, and end probably by doing more than was 
 asked of him — perhaps after dismissing the appli- 
 cant with a peremptory refusal. The person who 
 knew his character best, and therefore exercised 
 a sway over him which no one else had, was his 
 daughter Grace, who understood how to sacrifice 
 the shadow of authority for the sake of the sub- 
 stance, and therefore seldom failed to have her 
 own way with her father. 
 
 He had been very anxious that Arnold should 
 have a profession, and had strongly urged him 
 before he left Cambridge to enter at one of the 
 Inns of Court and read for the Bar. Arnold had
 
 74 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 declined to do so at that time, saying he felt no 
 inclination for the Bar, and that he thought of 
 travelling for a time before settling down. Mr. 
 Dalton took him up sharply. 
 
 " Well, well, I've said my say, and I wash my 
 hands of it ! He that will to Cupar maun to 
 Cupar." (Mr. Dalton had spent many of his 
 early years north of the Tweed.) "Not but 
 what you might do \vorse than see a little of 
 the world before you take uj) a definite line, 
 and as you're a man of independent means 
 there's no hurry. But money or no money, a 
 man's got no right to fool away his time doing 
 nothing. ' Satan finds some mischief still for 
 idle hands to do,' Arnold Eobur ! " (He was very 
 fond of using both Christian and surname in 
 apostrophe, especially in the course of an ad- 
 monition.) " However, you must do as you 
 please — it's neither beef nor brose o' mine, and 
 I've told you what I think." 
 
 Arnold had done as he pleased, but had not 
 felt much the better for it — had not, that is, 
 realised how much the better he was for it. As 
 yet he felt only that things were a good deal 
 chanored. Mr. Dalton's grumblino: orood-nature, 
 his proverbs and Scotticisms, Mrs. Dalton's 
 vacant vulgarity and w^ant of any qualities with 
 which he was in sympathy, were all the same 
 as ever ; yet, though he felt them to be the
 
 A COUNTEY FAMILY. 75 
 
 same, he felt that they were changed for him. 
 His guardian's house was no longer the home 
 that it had once been for him. Nor was it the 
 change in Grace, though that was a part of it. 
 He had left her not much more than a school- 
 girl. She was certainly not a schoolgirl now, 
 and yet he somehow felt as if his relation to 
 her was less changed than anything else about 
 the place. 
 
 Grace Dalton was pretty, and when that has 
 been said there is not much left. Her educa- 
 tion had been of tlie Pre-Girtonite type, which 
 aimed principally at prettiness. She inherited 
 her father's taste, and being a girl of average 
 wits could do most things as she was expected 
 to do them. She danced well, had a sweet but 
 not powerful voice ; sang ' nicely ' as the ladies 
 say ; played correctly, but without any particular 
 brilliancy ; drew and painted as her masters had 
 taught her, but without much power or artistic 
 feeling ; dressed and moved gracefully ; spoke 
 French and German fairly ; and talked common- 
 place by the hour pleasantly enough. If the 
 'higher' education of women is apt too often 
 to produce gargoyles, the ' lower ' (if it may be 
 called so for the sake of antithesis) in many — 
 nay, in most — cases produced wax-dolls. Not 
 that Grace was a wax-doll — by no manner of 
 means : but she would have been but for a
 
 76 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 certain amount of spirit whicli made her some- 
 thing more than a mass of accomplishments. 
 
 " Papa," she said, as she handed Mr. Dalton 
 his coffee next morning. — Mrs. Dalton considered 
 punctuality to be the thief of time, and therefore 
 her daugliter generally presided at the breakfast- 
 table — " what time will Frank be coming to- 
 day?" 
 
 " I don't know what time he's coming," replied 
 Mr. Dalton. '' I should like to know what busi- 
 ness that same lazy young vagabond of a brother 
 of yours has to be coming home at all just now. 
 He ought to be hard at work like his betters." 
 
 " You wouldn't be so unnatural as to check 
 his desire for the delights of home, would you, 
 papa ? " said Grace, smiling rather maliciously. 
 
 " Delights of home, quo' she ! " exclaimed her 
 father, apostrophising his poached egg. " De- 
 lights of pure idleness, you mean. Home in- 
 deed ! It's nothing more or less than sheer and 
 absolute laziness on his part." 
 
 It was perfectly true. Mr. Dalton's bitterest 
 words usually were ; a fact which did not lessen 
 their sting. He often saw and stated the truth, 
 when his actions did not seem to show any dis- 
 cernment of it. It would have been better for 
 Frank, and sometimes for other people, had he 
 always acted on his rather keen insight. 
 
 '' He's but a feckless ne'er-do-weel, that brother
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 11 
 
 of yours — " he continued, 'San idle, good-for- 
 nothing young goose that hasn't got two ideas 
 in his head. I wish you and he would lay your 
 two apologies for heads together and devise some- 
 thino' for him to do, tliouo;h how you're to set 
 anything out of brains that haven't got anything 
 in them, — Lord knows ! And what the use is of 
 a young fellow that won't make up his mind to 
 anything, I don't see." 
 
 " I thought you had ' made up your mind ' to 
 let him go in for the army, as he wanted to," 
 said Grace demurely. 
 
 "Wanted to! aye, wanted! I wonder how 
 long he'll want to ! You'll do all you can to 
 keep him to it, though. Trust a woman for 
 that. They're like turkey-cocks and bulls — all 
 alike if you wave a red rag." 
 
 *' Somebody said the other day that a good 
 uniform was the best recruiting-sergeant," said 
 Grace : ''I believe men are every bit as bad as 
 we are, papa." 
 
 " Fiddlestick ! It's only because it pleases the 
 womankind," retorted Mr. Dalton. " But as to 
 Frank, I've no mortal objection to his going into 
 the army, if he'll only take the trouble to pass. 
 But I don't see the use of my keeping him on 
 my hands and teaching him all sorts of things 
 which are of no possible use to any one except 
 for passing into Sandhurst, if he's going to get
 
 78 AEXOLD ROBUR. 
 
 ploughed and have to take up something else, 
 and begin again at the beginning." 
 
 ^' Oh ! papa, I'm sure Frank will pass ; besides 
 you said yourself the other day that no one 
 but a born fool could help passing into Sand- 
 hurst." 
 
 " And what's your brother Frank but a born 
 fool and idiot ? " responded Mr. Dalton genially. 
 " However, I suppose you're right : we'll see, 
 though. Needs must, when the d — ahem ! — 
 woman drives." 
 
 Mr. Dalton knew something of his son's char- 
 acter, and the circumstances under which 
 Frank's school career had been cut short had 
 not altered his opinion for the better. He was 
 unsparing as far as words went, though he did 
 his duty and more than his duty by the boy. 
 But hard words do far more than unkindness in 
 action to alienate affection, and Frank, who was 
 incapable of looking into what underlay his 
 father's manner, had quite lost touch of him ; 
 so that they had none of the good understand- 
 ing that existed between Mr. Dalton and Grace. 
 
 "You don't know what time he's cominor then, 
 papa ? '' Grace asked again. 
 
 " Oh ! I suppose he'll be here to lunch. He's 
 j^retty sure to come as soon as he can in the day. 
 By the way, do you know anything of Arnold 
 Eobur's movements ? "
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 79 
 
 ''He told Mr. Armitage he would go with 
 him to Copesbuiy to-day, I think." 
 
 " Ay, he did say so — now you mention it, I 
 admit that he did say he was going down there. 
 And then he's Sfoino off to ' somewhere or other ' 
 on the seaside to ' recruit ' after his travels, save 
 the mark ! Why can't he recruit here, I should 
 •like to know ? " 
 
 " Doctor's orders, I suppose," said Grace. 
 
 " Oh yes ! Paston, I suppose. He's a well-set- 
 up chap, that, too. But it's mere love of moving 
 about. He'll take a lot of settling down. He's 
 a regular gad-about. It's one thing to set 
 yourself going, and another thing, and a very 
 different thing, to stop yourself when once 
 you're started. It's easier to raise the devil 
 than to lay him by a long way." 
 
 " ' Chalks,' as Frank would say," observed 
 Grace laughing. " But I should think Arnold 
 would find it rather slow at Oakleigh by him- 
 self. He's not going to the seaside immediately ? " 
 
 '* I don't know how soon he's going," said Mr. 
 Dalton. " Yes, I daresay he will find it a bit 
 lonesome in that big house of his all by himself. 
 But for that matter he must pickle in his ain 
 pock-neuk, and just make the best of it he can. 
 He'll be bringing home a wife to his ingle one of 
 these days, I daresay. And any way there's 
 plenty of work to be done in the world, and so
 
 80 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 long as you've got your hands full, you're not 
 likely to feel lonely." 
 
 Grace laughed, not very heartily. '' I can't 
 imagine Arnold as a married man," she said. 
 The notion did not strike her as an attractive 
 one. 
 
 " But," she continued pertinaciously, " it's all 
 very well to talk of work, but how is he going 
 to get it to do ? " 
 
 " Oh ! so long as a man's got his wits about 
 him and the proper use of his arms and legs, 
 he'll have no difficulty in getting work to do, if 
 only he'll set himself to it. There's none so deaf 
 as those who won't hear ; and when a man says 
 he can't get work, you may be pretty sure it 
 means that he's too idle to take it." 
 
 Mr. Dalton always liked to establish his state- 
 ments on universal rules, but his generalisations 
 were apt to be rather hasty in consequence. His 
 prophecy as to his son's movements however 
 turned out to be well-founded. Frank turned 
 up before lunch. 
 
 He was a big awkward lad of about nineteen, 
 with the manners and appearance, but for his 
 size, of a lower-school boy. If Grace had inherited 
 her father's qualities rather than her mother's, 
 her brother had reversed the operation to some 
 extent — though it would be scarcely fair to Mrs. 
 Dalton to say that Frank was his ' mother's son.'
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 81 
 
 Still, he was a very good instance of the failure 
 of early home education. His natural good 
 qualities, whatever they may have been, had 
 remained undeveloped under the care of a mother 
 who knew nothing of boys, and was totally want- 
 ing in insight. He had grown up an ignoramus 
 with no strength of character and none of those 
 sterling principles which are generally supposed 
 to be acquired in the bosom of one's family 
 rather than in the trials and struggles of life 
 among other boys at a public school. Had he 
 enjoyed more of his father's care and less of his- 
 mother's, the case might have been different. 
 But women are unfortunately supposed to be 
 fitted by nature to educate, and able to dispense 
 with any special training, while men are expected 
 to do nothing more than support their families ; 
 and it is hardly surprising that Mr. Dalton 
 should have seen but little of his son's life before 
 he w^ent to school. The consequence was that 
 at school Frank was a failure : he remained in 
 a low form, an incorrigible idler, both in work 
 and games, distinguished for nothing among his 
 fellows, unless it be that his superior weight and 
 strength enabled him successfully to bully the 
 small boys of his form. Friends he had none : 
 parasites one or two, destined, alas ! to follow in 
 his footsteps unless some guardian angel inter- 
 vened : and a few associates of the same stamp 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 as himself. These kindred spirits generally band 
 together, whether it is merely because like seeks 
 like, or because no one else will associate with 
 them, or because there is a certain mutual advan- 
 tage in the combination, and by knowing one's 
 neighbour's failings one becomes less alive to 
 one's own : certainly it is not from any feeling 
 which can be called friendship, for the slightest 
 strain is sufficient to snap the tie. It may be 
 true enough and just enough to talk of ' happy 
 boyhood ' : but a lower-school form is sometimes 
 a veritable pandemonium — and no reproach to 
 prefects either, valuable as their good example 
 may be, for they are, and must be in the nature 
 of things, in a different sphere : Epicurean gods 
 living apart in blest abodes a careless life, and 
 knowing nought of the joys and sorrows of 
 mortals — in the Lower Third. 
 
 But to return to Frank : after spending some 
 two years at school, in favour with neither men, 
 gods, nor masters, he retired against his will, 
 prematurely and abruptly, into private life. His 
 place knew him no more, and probably the 
 jfrnoYsmce was found to be bliss. Since that 
 time he had been at a tutor's, where the best 
 thing he learnt was how to smoke. A boy who 
 leaves school early and is sent to a tutor seldom 
 improves there. His habits may change, and he 
 may acquire some small — usually very small —
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 83 
 
 a,mount of useless information, but the tone of 
 his mind is not apt to be altered for the better. 
 Frank was by nature undeniably stupid, and 
 neither early education nor the cribbing and 
 copying and shirking of his school life had im- 
 proved his faculties, so that it was not to be 
 expected that the relaxed discipline of a private 
 tutor's establishment would suit him for learning-. 
 
 o 
 
 His mother had always petted and spoiled him 
 from his earliest days upward, and now reaped 
 the usual reward of such conduct in his entire 
 indifference towards her affection : though this 
 perhaps wounded her less than it might have 
 wounded some people. With his father he was 
 at cross- purposes, and his behaviour to him was 
 apt to be rude or at least sullen, as if in enforced 
 obedience to a master he feared but did not 
 love. To Grace alone he showed a sort of canine 
 affection — or rather feline, for it was not alto- 
 gether to be relied upon — outside his usual self- 
 ishness. But neither to her nor to any one else 
 was he otherwise than reticent as to his private 
 proceedings. Perhaps, however, tliey w^ere not of 
 sufficient interest even to himself to justify his 
 inflicting them on his neighbours. 
 
 He came in and tolerated the embraces of his 
 mother and sister with all a schoolboy's assump- 
 tion of ennui at a customary but superfluous 
 ceremony. At lunch Mr. Dalton asked him 
 
 G 2
 
 84 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 what his tutor thought of his chance of passing 
 his ' preliminary ' for Sandhurst — for it was not 
 of much use to think of the further examination 
 yet. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know," he replied with a drawl 
 which w^as only not affected because the non- 
 chalance which it denoted had become a second 
 nature to him. " You see they're so confoundedly 
 hard on a fellow — plough nearly every one who 
 goes in." 
 
 " No wonder, seeing that they get half the 
 gowks in the kingdom," said his father. ''But 
 what business has anybody to get ploughed in 
 subjects he ought to have known by the time he 
 was ten years old, I should like to know ? " 
 
 " Oh ! the subjects aren't so stiff," answ^ered 
 Frank. "But they floor you for the slightest 
 thing. Three mistakes in English dictation, 
 you know." 
 
 " And ' fat the deil ' is a man fit to do in this 
 blessed world of Board-schools and Education 
 Acts if he can't write a piece of the Queen's 
 English without making mistakes in it ? You 
 must have your bread buttered for .you, my 
 young man, before you can afford to luxuriate in 
 ignorance in that sort of way," said Mr. Dalton : 
 " although " (this word he was in the habit of 
 saying slowdy, pronouncing the ' th ' as in the 
 word ' thick ') " although for that matter it's not
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 85 
 
 every one tliat has his bread buttered that is in 
 a position to dispense with the use of the three 
 R's." 
 
 " That's all very well," muttered Frank sulkily. 
 '' I'd like to see some people try their hand at 
 dictation, though they do think they know such 
 a lot about everything." Frank, like most 
 dunces, was apt to be sceptical, especially when 
 nettled, of a degree of knowledge which was 
 outside his experience and comprehension. 
 
 " It's very hard, I do think," "said Mrs. Dalton, 
 not unconscious of certain failings of her own. 
 " They ought not to be so strict with young men 
 just leaving school." 
 
 " When they can't be expected," obser^^ed 
 Mr. Dalton, sarcastically, " to have learnt how to 
 write, spell, and cipher. However, we must take 
 things as we find them ; the ordeal has to be 
 undergone, I suppose, and we must make the 
 best of it we can." 
 
 Frank had become sullen, and at the best of 
 times he did not shine much in conversation. 
 On this occasion Mr. Dalton monopolised the 
 talk and lectured his son freely. 
 
 " And if you're not going to pass into the army, 
 what is it your gracious will and pleasure to do 
 with your highness's most noble self ? " he con- 
 tinued. " I suppose if you can't make up your 
 mind to work for one thing you're not likely to
 
 8G ARNOLD ROBUK. 
 
 make up your mind to work for another. But 
 let me tell you you can't make a plack a bawbee 
 by sitting still and expecting it to grow in your 
 pocket, nor can you earn your livelihood with 
 doing nothing; so you'd just better give over 
 sittinof glowerinor there like a wild cat out of an 
 ivy-tod, and set yourself thinking what you're 
 going to turn your hand to." 
 
 Frank grumbled something about it being " a 
 mighty lot of use to talk in that way, when 
 he'd been grinding like a nigger for the last six 
 months." 
 
 " Yes, and a mighty lot of use it is, too, my 
 paying Mr. Johnson your tutor Lord knows how- 
 much a year to coach you for Sandhurst, if you're 
 going to fail after all. What use will all the 
 thousand and one things they expect you to 
 know at Sandhurst be to you — " 
 
 " Reading, writing, and ciphering," observed 
 Grace in a malicious parenthesis. 
 
 "Upon my word!" said her father, turning 
 upon her and screwing up his eyes — a gesture 
 which he very commonly used when bandying 
 words, especially with Grace. It made him look 
 short-sighted, which he actually was not, and 
 also added much the same intimidating air of 
 close inspection which some young men assume 
 by mounting a single eyeglass, and some old men 
 by looking over the rims of their spectacles.
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 87 
 
 " Hark at her ! " he continued severely, "just 
 hark at her ! And who gave you leave, Miss, to 
 put in your opinion before it was asked for ? 
 The airs the rising generation give themselves — ! 
 Set her up ! Much difficulty there w^ould be in 
 passing into the army if you could do it with 
 reading, wTiting, and arithmetic." 
 
 Grace did not retort by quoting her father's 
 disrespectful dictum as to the ease of the ex- 
 amination in question. She smiled a self-satisfied 
 smile at the rebuke she had aimed at and attained, 
 was silent and ' thought the more,' perhaps : and 
 presently led the conversation into a pleasanter 
 channel for her brother. Frank however was 
 out of humour and took little or no part in it ; 
 though for that matter he never found the talk 
 at home of a sufficiently congenial character to 
 make him otherwise than indifferent to it. Indeed 
 it may be doubted whether he took a very lively 
 interest in any conversation at all, unless it w^ere 
 concerned with doos and horses. At home his 
 
 o 
 
 manner was always constrained and listless, 
 especially in his father's presence. 
 
 After lunch Grace went out into the garden to 
 enjoy the afternoon sunshine. Frank followed her, 
 and after walking by her side silently for some 
 time, meditatinoj whether he should indulo;e in a 
 quiet smoke, took her to task somewhat gruffly. 
 
 " T see you've been at the guv'nor about
 
 88 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 letting me shoot at Sandhurst, Grace," he said, 
 not very cheerfully. 
 
 '' We were talking about it," said Grace. '' I 
 thought you were so anxious to try." 
 
 " Oh ! it's such a confounded grind, you know. 
 Old Johnson's always expecting a fellow to be 
 smugging at those beastly books all day. And 
 as for teaching you anything, he might as well 
 try to fly. I call it beastly rot." 
 
 " In fact, a coach ought to put everything you 
 want to learn into your head without any trouble 
 on your part, eh ? " said Grace with a laugh. 
 
 This was precisely Prank's view, though he 
 did not own it. Moreover he could hardly be 
 expected to make due allowance for the Cjuality 
 of the material on which Mr. Johnson had to work, 
 in estimating that gentleman's teaching powers. 
 
 " And then the guv'nor always cuts up rough," 
 he continued, disregarding Grace's remark. " It's 
 nothino^ but naor, nas^, nao; from morning to 
 night when I'm here. I swear it's enough to 
 make a fellow cut the whole concern and emigrate, 
 or something or other." 
 
 The vagueness of this last remark was charac- 
 teristic of Frank's views on all questions of 
 action. He always found it very hard to have 
 to make up his mind to do anything, and invari- 
 ably put off decision to the last moment. Grace 
 wondered to herself whether he thought he could
 
 A COUXTRY FAMILY. 89 
 
 live at ease in the colonies without doing any 
 work, or whether like some political economists 
 he merely looked upon ' emigration ' as a sort 
 of mysterious panacea for all human ills. How- 
 ever, she was concerned less to examine his state 
 of mind just now than to pour oil on the troubled 
 waters : for the relation between him and his 
 father was very unpleasant to her. 
 
 " It's very absurd of you, Frank," she said 
 severely. "You know papa doesn't mean half 
 he says, and he wouldn't talk at you in the way 
 he does if you only took it a little more good- 
 humouredly. One would suppose from the way 
 you treat it all ait grand serieux\hdX he was really 
 severe, instead of giving you all the chances he 
 has." 
 
 " Well, I wish he wouldn't jaw so," grumbled 
 Frank : " it's enough to make a cat sick the way 
 he keeps on at it from morning to night." 
 
 " Come now, you know that's all nonsense, 
 Frank. It's only his way. He doesn't mean it ; 
 and besides it is rather annoying to find you 
 throwing up everything, and refusing to set fairly 
 to work and do your best." 
 
 " I like that ! when I've been grinding like 
 the deuce for ever so long, to be told I won't do 
 any work," rejoined Frank. 
 
 " You don't look so very much worn out 
 after it all," she said. " And what's the use if
 
 90 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 nothing's to come of it ? If only you'd try and 
 do something — but you can't expect papa to 
 keep you forever, you know. You must make 
 your own bread sooner or later, and he's given 
 you every chance of earning a living." 
 
 " Hang it all, the guv'nor's got plenty of cash ! " 
 said Frank. " I don't see why I need work as 
 if I was the son of a ploughman ! I suppose I 
 shall always have enough tin to keep me going, 
 if that's all ; and where's the use of bothering so?" 
 
 " Why, Frank, it's absurd of you to talk as if 
 you didn't know you must make your own way. 
 What's the use of being a man if you're to be 
 dependent on your father all your life ? You're 
 lucky enough in having such a good chance of a 
 start as it is." 
 
 " I swear you're as bad as the guv'nor himself 
 for jawing a fellow, Grace," said Frank. "I 
 don't see why you can't let me alone. You're 
 always pitching into me." 
 
 The two strolled on in silence for a time, 
 Grace disappointed, and both of them rather 
 nettled. Frank could not for the life of him 
 understand what was the use of working if you 
 had a chance of being idle. The deification of 
 labour was beyond his comprehension, though 
 Mr. Dalton lost no opportunity of impressing 
 its excellence on him. It is unfortunately too 
 often stated with all the authority of the pulpit
 
 A COUNTRY FAMILY. 91 
 
 that the necessity of labour came into the world 
 with sin at the Fall. To preach that work is a 
 necessary evil, instead of a boon given by God 
 to men, is to recommend the life of the Point in 
 ' Flatland,' absorbed in eternal beatitude of self- 
 thought, where self is nothing. But too many 
 of us take this jaundiced view of things, and 
 Frank was one of these. Perhaps it would have 
 been better for him if he had actually been the 
 son of a ploughman. 
 
 ** I tell you what it is," said Frank with sudden 
 energy, ''I'm going to cut this Sandhurst busi- 
 ness. It isn't good enough by half. It's a con- 
 founded deal too much sweat. I don't care what 
 I do, but I'm going to cut that." 
 
 " Now don't, Frank," pleaded Grace : "do be 
 reasonable and stick to it. You know it'll annoy 
 papa so. Besides, what'll you do instead ? " 
 
 " I don't care," said Frank sullenly. '• It's no 
 go. I'm sick of this eternal grind ; and besides, 
 I shan't pass anyhow. The guv'nor must just 
 make the best of it." 
 
 " It's very unfair to him too," said Grace. 
 " It wasn't his fault you left school : and now 
 you're throwing this up." 
 
 '' I don't see why you need rake up all a 
 fellow's old misfortunes," said Frank, with an 
 injured air. '' It's beastly rough to have that 
 thrown at my head after all this time."
 
 92 ARNOLD KOBUR. 
 
 " If you kept it in mind," said Grace sadly, 
 '' I shouldn't have to remind you of it." Grace 
 knew, and felt as Frank certainly never felt it, 
 how he had left school, though she never knew 
 what his offence was. 
 
 Mr. Dalton, however, did not receive Frank's 
 announcement of his views as ill as Grace had 
 expected, for he had had very little faith in his 
 son's strength of purpose, and less in his ability 
 to pass. 
 
 " Well, well ; what must be must be. I sup- 
 pose if you don't choose you won't. One man 
 may lead a horse to water, but twenty can't 
 make him drink. Though what the deil you're 
 going to do with yourself is more than I can 
 say." 
 
 However, he determined that Frank should 
 not go back to his tutor. " If you're to eat the 
 bread of idleness anywhere, my young friend, 
 you'd better eat it here. You can do nothing 
 just as well here as there, and I shan't be paying 
 for the privilege all the time ; and as you don't 
 learn anything from our friend Mr. Johnson, 
 there's no reason in life why he should be pre- 
 tending to teach you. Doubtless ' there's sma' 
 sorrow at your parting, as the auld mear said to 
 the broken cart.' " 
 
 Frank's very limited library was accordingly 
 sent for, and he remained at Beau Sejour.
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCKITUS. 93 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 
 
 " If a company works a steam fire-engine, the firemen needn't be 
 straining themselves all day to squirt over the top of the 
 flagstaff. Let them wash some of those lower-story windows 
 a little." — The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane was seated under the old mul- 
 berry tree at the end of the grass walk, surrounded 
 by a clucking crowd of citizens from the miniature 
 hamlet of fowl-houses and hen-coops close by. 
 With a big ball of grey wool and a shapeless 
 mass of substantial knitting on her lap, she 
 looked like a sort of Minerva in homespun, a 
 comfortable personification of housewifery. At 
 present, however, the click of her needles was 
 silent, as she sat contemplating the ridiculous 
 movements of the fowls as they poked and 
 j)ecked about her. " My chicks," she said, " how 
 happy you look. You don't trouble yourselves 
 with other people's business — or your own either, 
 if you can only get enough to eat." But here 
 her meditations were interrupted by a slow foot- 
 step on the grass, and she began busily knitting
 
 94 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 again, as she looked up and murmured, "Here's 
 Joshua Gibbins, with a face as long as my arm." 
 
 Mr. Gibbins was the bailiff of the Oakleio^h 
 estate. But he was by no means the jovial per- 
 sonage one naturally expects such a functionary 
 to be in the pages of orthodox and legitimate 
 fiction. On the contrary, remarkable and un- 
 promising as the fact may appear, it is certain 
 that he wore habitually an appearance of excessive 
 dejection. Not that he was morose ; far from it. 
 Indeed, to say that he was constitutionally mild 
 would give but a faint idea of his sunless serenity. 
 But his whole demeanour was tinged with melan- 
 choly. Guiltless of thought or erudition, his 
 mental attitude was unmistakably morbid. His 
 nature was like one of those winter days with 
 which we are unhappily too familiar in this 
 country — days of thaw, unpleasantly moist and 
 muddy, but calm. In short he was a gentle 
 unbeliever in the possibility of happiness, a placid 
 pessimist. 
 
 At the sight of this philosopher's advancing 
 figure, Mrs. Marchpane's mirth, of which a vast 
 store had been accumulating within her ever 
 since Arnold's arrival, and now stood sadly in 
 need of a safety-valve, suddenly made its escape 
 in a voluminous rush of laus^hter. Gibbins 
 stood dumb-foundered. It was as bad as if he 
 had found himself at Constantinople and been
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 95 
 
 commanded by the Sultan to dance a hornpipe 
 or be bow-strung on the spot. Such a triumphant 
 vindication of the existence of happiness it had 
 never been his fortune to meet with before, 
 and he was proportionately astounded by the 
 experience. 
 
 The worthy dame, however, soon recovered 
 her self-command. 
 
 " Oh dear, dear ! But it's very bad manners 
 of me to laugh straight out in your face like 
 that, Joshua," she said, checking her merriment : 
 " and you don't seem very likely to do the same 
 by me either. But you mustn't be hard on 
 me ! " Here the idea of his laughing at any- 
 thino' almost set her off as^ain. " You see," she 
 went on, " it's as if old times had come back, 
 now there's a Eobur again at Oakleigh, and it 
 makes me feel so young, the least thing's enough 
 to turn my head." 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane might have taken her com- 
 panion's silence as carte blanche to indulge her 
 present vein still further, had not her eye been 
 arrested by something unusual in his manner. 
 He had been regardijig her absently while she 
 was speaking, and when she ceased his outer man 
 began to heave and jolt in a strange and uncom- 
 fortable manner, while something like the ghost 
 of a mournful chuckle seemed to struggle vainly 
 for an exit. Never was merriment more rapidly
 
 96 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 extinguished than Mrs. Marchpane's at this 
 portent. Could she believe her senses ? And 
 was it readily Joshua who was thus displaying 
 symptoms of the lighter emotions ? Mental 
 arithmetic was not her forte, but a tolerable 
 calculation of the time it would take her to 
 traverse twice over the distance between the 
 grass walk and the cupboard where she kept her 
 infallible draughts and doses figured itself out in 
 her brain with unusual celerity. The perturbed 
 spirit inside Mr. Gibbins' waistcoat was, however, 
 soon laid, and a cloud of deep humiliation settled 
 upon his brow. Glancing with some trepidation 
 over his shoulder, and manifestly relieved at 
 finding that his momentary relapse from principle 
 had passed unnoticed even by the cocks and 
 hens, he stammered awkwardly, 
 
 " Best let bygones be bygones, mum, as you 
 say. Thinks ha' bin a trifle out o' gear lately, 
 and it do putt us off our balance a bit. But 
 arter all," he added with a sigh, looking away 
 from Mrs. Marchpane, and apparently addressing 
 a promising young rooster which was flapping its 
 wings near his feet, " arter all there is a brighter 
 side ; there alius is, you know." 
 
 " It doesn't seem to cheer you up much, any- 
 how," responded the housekeeper. " I believe 
 you've really forgotten how to laugh." 
 
 The lugubrious Gibbins sadly acquiesced.
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 97 
 
 ** It's as true as corduroy, mum," said lie. 
 " I'm not deny in' as I ain't ekal to a good cry ; 
 but larfin's more'n I can manage. I ain't used 
 to it, there's where it is, and it's beyond me. 
 But then it's all there, mum " (patting his breast 
 with an air of modest conviction), " like a stone 
 at the bottom of a well, if it could only find a 
 went." 
 
 " I suppose you can't help it, Joshua," said 
 Mrs. Marchpane, going on with her work ; " but 
 if you could, I shouldn't think any the more of 
 you for not being a little more cheerful." 
 
 "You may rest upon me, Mrs. Marchpane, 
 that I'm serus through no fault of my own, 
 mum. There's no such backin' out of a good 
 think in me, and I'd be willing enough, bless yer 
 'eart, to enjoy life like most folks, if I could. 
 But what's the use o' callin' out about it when 
 the thing's 'ard enough to bear without tantrums 
 and torches." 
 
 As a plausible gloss upon this last word it may 
 be suggested that Mr. Gibbins meant tortures. 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane's interest in psychological 
 phenomena, or her feminine curiosity, was 
 quickened by the bailiff's uncommunicativeness. 
 
 "Well, if your low spirits aren't your own 
 fault, what are they from, do you think ? " she 
 enquired. " You take your meals regular, don't 
 you, Joshua ? " 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 But the sufferer still maintained his reserve 
 with doleful tenacity, despite the flattering solici- 
 tude implied in these queries. 
 
 " 'Tain't that neither/' he rejoined. " Maybe 
 it runs in the fambly, like old chaney. Least- 
 ways father and mother were both serus, being 
 pecooliar Baptises ; and now, let me hold with 
 Church-goin' ever so, I'm obleeged to b'long to 
 their way o' thinkin'. Sounds 'ard on a man. 
 But there, I reckon the arrangement's handy, and 
 saves trouble. Prov'dence would hev its hands 
 full if it was to go purvidin' a sep'rate lot of 
 religious voos for every boy or gal that's born 
 into the world. A man has got to stick to what 
 his fambly has alius held by, I take it ; and not 
 go sniffin' out cracks in the old roof on his own 
 account, and stuffin' 'em up with any green straw 
 what lays convenient." 
 
 " Take care, Joshua ; " and Mrs. Marchpane 
 shook her finger at him with a grave face. " Don't 
 you be talking about what Providence can do, 
 and what it can't. Church-folks and Baptists 
 may differ about a good many things, but I 
 know who is the best judge of what's good for 
 us all, whatever we choose to call ourselves. 
 Sparrows or Christians, it's all one, Joshua." 
 
 '^ Well, if Prov'dence looks arter sparrows as 
 well as you tend these 'ere chicks, Mrs. March- 
 pane, they must have a precious good time of it
 
 HEEACLEITUS AND DEMOCPJTUS. 99 
 
 sure/y. Only it do seem to me that the things 
 is alius a-'uno'erin' for suthio' to eat in winter. 
 P'raps they don't know when they've had enough, 
 though. Jest see that fat little chap a-peckin' at 
 the scraps you've thrown down there for our 
 tame 'uns. I've never set eyes yet on sich stuff 
 chucked down anywheres for them ; and it's 
 pretty plain as they likes it, too." 
 
 But Mrs. Marchpane was not to be baffled by 
 such sophistry. 
 
 " Greedy little thing," she cried, shoohing, to 
 scare off the marauder. " There are always 
 thieves, Joshua, who are not content with what 
 they've got themselves, but must take a bite 
 now and then from other people's pudding. 
 You've no call to trouble your head about those 
 rascally sparrows. They can attend to them- 
 selves well enough. Sparrows indeed ! With 
 my beautiful chickabiddies which have got to 
 live honestly, and die as they're wanted, it's 
 different." 
 
 To say that Gibbins looked depressed at Mrs. 
 Marchpane's treatment of his speculations would 
 be unnecessary, as depression was his normal con- 
 dition. But he seemed rather sadder than before. 
 He and Mrs. Marchpane often waged wordy 
 warfare, though they were very good friends and 
 staunch adherents of the house. Mrs. Marchpane 
 was never tired of rebuking his gloomy way of 
 
 H 2
 
 100 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 looking at things, and though her raillery cannot 
 be said to have had an exhilarating influence on 
 him, it would not be safe to infer that he did not 
 enjoy it after his own manner. 
 
 " Seems like as if they was bound to get it 
 took out of 'em at one end if they don't at 
 t'other," he said ruefully. " If they do get 
 looked arter that way, they won't last so long, 
 and there's no knowin' when you'll be wantin' one 
 of 'em for the kitchen." 
 
 '' Well I never did see a man like you for 
 smelling out the bad side of a thing, Joshua 
 Gibbins," said Mrs. Marchpane severely. " But 
 you'd better be off with your croakings, for Mr. 
 Arnold's sure to want to see you this morning 
 before he goes away. Mind, now, you don't keep 
 him too long with your business." 
 
 " You may rest upon me, mum," said the 
 bailiff, "all I got to say won't take — not more 
 nor five minutes, Mrs. Marchpane. Though 'tain't 
 too pleasant neither. If the master will get 
 a-cuttin' down o' them rents, he won't be gettin' 
 any in at all afore long. It's alius the way. 
 Give 'em a inch and they'll take a ell." 
 
 With these prognostications, which had their 
 basis solely in his own pessimism, Gibbins re- 
 tired to the house to hold his interview with 
 Arnold, whom he found in the library ; he was 
 standing by the fireplace with a book in his
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCEITUS. 101 
 
 hand, not reading it, but gazing abstractedly 
 upon the shelves opposite. They dispatched their 
 business speedily. 
 
 " By the bye, Gibbins," observed the master 
 when they had finished, and the bailiff 
 was lingering with his hand on the door- 
 handle : "do you know anything about these 
 books ? " 
 
 " Me, sir ? No," replied Gibbins in a voice 
 that suggested that he was ashamed of the fact 
 — which he was not. " It isn't the likes o' me 
 that has the time to be lookin' at the insides o' 
 books — leastways printed books, sir ! " he added, 
 regretfully recollecting that he was not altogether 
 without booklore of a sort. 
 
 " I didn't mean to accuse you of looking at 
 their insides," said Arnold with a smile. The 
 bailiff's solemnity always tickled him, and the 
 idea of his studying the contents of the Oakleigh 
 library was altogether too much for his gravity. 
 " But do you know at all what there is here ? is 
 there any catalogue or list ? " 
 
 " Not as I knows on, sir," said Gibbins, " and 
 I don't 'speck them books is as good as they was. 
 Though there's nobody ever touches them ex- 
 cept when Mrs. Marchpane is by, and then it's 
 only to dust them. But you can't 'spect books 
 to keep right when there's nobody as reads 'em 
 or understands about 'em to look arter 'em.
 
 102 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 Tisn't in nature. I don't think as any of 'em's 
 lost, sir ; but as to a list, no, I don't know on 
 any." 
 
 '' They seem to be in very good preservation," 
 said Arnold ; " they're well dusted and the 
 room appears to have been kept warm and dry. 
 And I don't suppose any of them are lost. It 
 wasn't that. Only one likes to know what one 
 has and what one hasn't." 
 
 The bailiff slightly shook his head. This 
 feeling was beyond him. Books were books, 
 and one seemed to him pretty nearly as good as 
 another. They were mostly better not read, he 
 thought ; but if you must read them what was 
 the odds ? 
 
 " I wonder if Mrs. Marchpane would know," 
 said Arnold : " would you ask her to step this 
 way ? " 
 
 But as. Gibbins proceeded to do so, Robur 
 looked out of the window and saw the direction 
 he took. " Oh ! she's out there," he said to 
 himself, and went out after the bailiff. The 
 latter had reached Mrs. Marchpane, and was 
 observing : — " Mr. Arnold wants to speak to you, 
 Mrs. Marchpane, mum. He's in the libery, and 
 he wants to know summat about them books. 
 He's axin' arter a cattle-og or summat." 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane had picked herself and her 
 work up with a view to obeying the summons,
 
 HEPwACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 103 
 
 when she saw Arnold coming quickly down the 
 grass walk, and dropped a curtsey to him. 
 
 " Don't move, Barbara," he said, " sit down 
 again. I only want to know whether there is 
 any catalogue of the books in the library here. 
 It's all very well when one's familiar with all the 
 books and has arranged them oneself: but to 
 introduce yourself to a large number of books 
 with no list to guide you is rather difficult.'' 
 
 '' I don't know of any, sir ; your father knew 
 them every one, and never wanted a list for 
 them, not he. They're just as he left them, sir, 
 all just the same. If he came back to-morrow 
 he could lay his hand on any of them. But I 
 don't think there was ever a list." 
 
 " Well, I must make one, — or get one made. 
 I'm going away to Copesbury to-day, Barbara. 
 It must wait till I'm back for good, I suppose. 
 Then I'm going to London and down to the sea- 
 side for a bit." He sighed. " It's very pleasant 
 coming home again after you've been travelling 
 all over the world." 
 
 "Surely," said Mrs. Marchpane; "but why 
 should people want to be always running about ? 
 Begging your pardon, Mr. Arnold, wouldn't it 
 be better to stay at home a bit ? To be sure it's 
 a bit lonesome, but after all a body can always 
 be doing something. At least, the likes of me 
 can : but I dare say it's different."
 
 104 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 '* One can't always do what one wants to, you 
 see ; and then if one once gets into the way of 
 moving about, it's not so easy to settle down. 
 There's a vis inertim to be overcome in stopping 
 motion as much as in starting it, you know," 
 said Arnold, who liked to note the effect 
 on Gibbins of language he didn't understand. 
 " Besides," he proceeded with a laugh, " if one 
 didn't go away, there wouldn't be the pleasure of 
 coming back." 
 
 "There is alius a brighter side o' things," 
 observed, or rather soliloquised Gibbins, for the 
 remark was not intended for the general public 
 so much as for himself. " Seems as a man can't 
 get at any pleasure nohow without doin' hisself 
 a injury fust. A man don't so much as eat 
 without he's hungry first — leastways not unless 
 he's greedy and can go on a-eatin' all day and 
 all night and never know when he's had enough, 
 like them sparrers." 
 
 Gibbins's morbid view of phenomena was so 
 thoroughly genuine and constitutional that he 
 really could hardly tell what he considered 
 pleasant and what painful. Hence in his re- 
 markable theory of the ' brighter side o' things ' 
 the aspect which he appeared to consider con- 
 solatory would have had by no means a cheering 
 effect on the majority of his fellow-men. 
 
 " True, philosopher ! Plato said the same
 
 HEKACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 105 
 
 thing long ago," observed Arnold. " That's why 
 you and I, Gibbins, cultivate the unpleasant side 
 of things, just that we may get the pleasant. 
 And we get it too, whatever you may think, 
 Barbara." 
 
 " I'm sure it's not my fault," said Gibbins 
 deprecatingly ; " I alius does my best to enjoy 
 life, but somehow it won't come. I do think 
 now and ao^in as there ain't nothink but dust 
 an' hashes in the world arter all," he concluded 
 despondently. 
 
 " Exactly : we pitch our lives in a minor key 
 on system ; " (Gibbins seemed doubtful of the 
 accuracy of this description, but made no 
 answer.) " Blessed are they that expect nothing : 
 they shall never be disappointed." 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane had been looking anxiously 
 from one to the other, and now shook her head 
 uneasily, and knitted rather faster than usual. 
 Knitting is a useful safety-valve for getting rid 
 of superfluous emotion. 
 
 *' I don't hold with them that are always 
 picking holes in things — poking and prying to 
 find out faults, and just as discontented when 
 they don't find any as when they do," she said. 
 " Why can't they let them alone and take them 
 as they come ? They'll be finding fault with 
 Providence, and saying they could do things a 
 great deal better. If they'd just make the best
 
 106 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 of things as they find them there's plenty of 
 good to be got out of them. People have got 
 enough to make them unhappy without looking 
 for it, and they've got plenty to enjoy too, if 
 they'd only enjoy it, instead of making their 
 lives a burden to everybody with fault-finding. 
 It's enough to spoil all one's pleasure to hear 
 you, Joshua. And you, Mr. Arnold, that ought to 
 know better, and that has everything round you 
 to make you happy, you ought to be ashamed of 
 yourself, to go encouraging him, and pretending 
 to be so miserable too." Little Mrs. March- 
 pane's feelings were too much for her, and made 
 her speak to Arnold in a way so like the old 
 days of his childhood that it pleased him exces- 
 sively, apart from the humour of the situation. 
 
 " Q^uod de sapientibus alter ridebat — " he mur- 
 mured to himself. " Bravo, Barbara. I didn't 
 mean to displease you, Barbara, indeed I didn't," 
 he continued aloud. Then the comicality of this 
 storm in a teapot struck him forcibly, and he 
 said with a laugh : '' But I must get you and 
 Gibbins here to fight it out. It would be as good 
 as a play." 
 
 Gibbins shook his head dolorously, whether 
 from mere downheartedness, or as wishing to 
 signify that he and Mrs. Marchpane too often 
 fought it out, and always against his will, it 
 would be hard to say.
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 107 
 
 But Mrs. Marchpane was not to be appeased. 
 '' It's all very well to talk, Mr. Arnold, but I 
 don't see what you want to be making things out 
 worse than they are for. And if you'd only set 
 yourself down and be happy like your neighbours, 
 what is there to hinder you ? " 
 
 " Come now, Barbara, you'll make me unhappy 
 in earnest if you're so cross," said Arnold play- 
 fully. " I didn't mean to vex you, you know. 
 I was only playing at being unhappy, after all. 
 However I must be off if I'm to catch my train 
 to Copesbury," he concluded, looking at his watch 
 and retiring precipitately to the house. 
 
 In another half-hour he was on his way to 
 join Armitage, who had been obliged to go down 
 by an earlier train. He mused as he lay back in 
 the carriage on the last two or three days. Was 
 Paston, whom he had sent off to town that morn- 
 ing in his usual high spirits to renew the struggle 
 with disease and distress — was Paston rioht in 
 his view of the case ? Or was he, Arnold Robur, 
 ' playing at being unhappy ' as he ' had said 
 jestingly in the language of past days to Mrs. 
 Marchpane ? Was it a morbid and dangerous 
 condition of mind which he could and ouoht to 
 shake off with a strong effort ? or was it but a 
 stage in his mental development — ' Blank mis- 
 givings of a creature moving about in worlds 
 not realised ' ? So he pondered till he reached
 
 108 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 Copesbury and the inner man had to give place 
 to the outer. 
 
 Armitao'e was out, and had left a messasje that 
 he could not be in till some time later. So 
 Arnold determined to stroll about the place and 
 see what he could of the old-world town, whose 
 appearance suggested that it had gone to sleep 
 for at least a century or two. He rambled for an 
 hour or more about the Cathedral and Close, and 
 the narrow streets with their old tumble-down 
 houses, 'picturesque gables and projecting upper 
 stories, jotting down a bit here and another there 
 as the fancy took him. 
 
 Close under the time-worn figures which look 
 down from their niches in the ancient gate on 
 the passer from the street into the Close stands 
 a rambling old building called the Cope-house. 
 " Heere is it," says the old chronicle preserved in 
 the Cathedral library, " y* y^ Byschop doth donne 
 hym y^ robes wc^ apperteyn untoe hys dynitie 
 atte hys installement. Thence goeth hee forth 
 byneath y^ gayte ; & theeratte mete hym M'' 
 Deane, & wyth hym hys clergie ; & theese wyth 
 y® chorristers chaunt hym a cheerfull noyse of 
 welcom. Y^ w"^^ ceerimonie is al don in y^ syte 
 of y^ Twelve Holie Apostles wc^ bee up on y^ 
 gayte, for y* ye church of Coppesburie bee dedi- 
 cate untoe y^ Twelve Apostles & al y^ Seynts." 
 
 A venerable grace lingers about the rough-
 
 HEKACLEITUS AND DEMOCEITUS. 109 
 
 hewn effigies, something soft and mellow for eyes 
 dazzled by the glare of gas and electric light to 
 rest upon, soothing as is the change for ears 
 stunned by the whirling roar of machinery to the 
 sweet organ's music, when it laves the great 
 roof in its melting caresses, and whispers round 
 the pillars. 
 
 So have these sacred sentinels stood while 
 generations passed in and out below them to 
 worship and to work, telling in hushed tones, but 
 clear to all who have attentive ears, of saintly 
 brotherhood between the struggling tenants of 
 earth and those who have won peace ; so do they 
 still endure to pour balm and silent benediction 
 on faithful hearts uncovered there before them. 
 
 The Cope-house's palmy days, if it ever had 
 any, have long since departed. The robing- 
 chamber, as it is called, remains, and to this day 
 is appropriated to the quaint custom described 
 above. But the spacious ground-floor is occupied 
 by a book-shop, and the rest of the building is 
 monopolised by the owner of the books and his 
 family. 
 
 Arnold had been musing among the mementoes 
 of past days that are to be met with in this queer 
 secluded town, and transferring some of his 
 impressions to his sketch-book in case he felt 
 disposed to elaborate them later, when he 
 stumbled upon the bulging windows of the
 
 no AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 book-shop, staffed full of soiled and faded 
 volumes, with not a clean page to be seen any- 
 where. He was hesitating upon the- threshold 
 whether he should go in and explore farther 
 when a scrap of doggerel pasted inside the glazed 
 door caught his eye. 
 
 '* Stranger who visitest these shores, 
 Before this mart thy wand'rings pause ; 
 Enter, and contemplate the stock 
 Displayed upon the shelves of Rock." 
 
 An invitation in which poetic imagery was 
 restrained within the chaste boundaries of sense 
 with such consummate propriety was not to be 
 resisted, and Arnold found himself picking his 
 way among the piles of musty literature that had 
 leaked by degrees from overflowing cupboards 
 and cases, and now almost concealed the floor. 
 His first thought was to examine the shelves, 
 when he was a little disappointed to find that 
 they were constructed of quite ordinary wood. 
 '' Well," he soliloquised, after rummaging to such 
 purpose that he could scarcely have been better 
 disguised to play the part of an amateur chimney- 
 sweep, " I wonder who is the gardener of this 
 wilderness ; it wants w^eeding badly enough. 
 There seems to be more chance here of hitting 
 upon the Sibyl's books than her cave, they're 
 hard enough to be very literal rocks ahead," and 
 he rubbed his shins after an encounter with a
 
 HEEACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. Ill 
 
 heap of stiff bindings. His patience was rewarded 
 by the appearance of a pair of feet at the top of 
 a broken stairway in a dim corner of the shop. 
 They were encased in shabby carpet slippers, 
 between which and the frayed trousers an inch 
 or so of dirty white stocking was rather too 
 plainly visible. As they descended it became 
 evident that this bravery belonged to a lean but 
 thick-set old man, who rubbed his hands, and dis- 
 played a mouthful of discoloured and irregularly 
 distributed teeth to his visitor. 
 
 '• I was looking for the shelves of rock,"' said 
 Arnold, indicating with a gesture the metrical 
 composition on the door. 
 
 " You see them before you, sir," replied their 
 owner, with a comical bow ; '*' you perceive in 
 me the author of that original poem, and the 
 Eock therein referred to, — to wit. Christian name 
 Hiram, surname Eock — utter them both together, 
 and the person who answers * here ' will be found 
 to stand in my shoes." 
 
 He was a jaunrv old man with dirty white 
 locks which were rumpled and unkempt Hke his 
 general appearance. Mr. Eock evidently regarded 
 his hair less as a personal adornment than as a 
 convenient appendage to be turned to account. 
 It was as forming: a sort of umbrageous lair or 
 nest for the spectacles which were so seldom across 
 his nose that he found it chieflv useful, thoueh
 
 112 ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 the economy effected by its subordinate functions 
 — such as serving for a penwiper or towel — 
 cannot be denied. He was standing opposite 
 Arnold on the other side of the counter as he 
 spoke, his hands in his pockets, and his mouth 
 turned up at the corners with an affable and airy 
 smile. Indeed all the angles of his somewhat 
 rubicund face seemed to turn up, and this helped 
 to give him an appearance far from venerable. 
 
 ''Not that my name is by any means an 
 accurate description of my nature, sir," he con- 
 tinued ; '' for nothing could be in a general way 
 more opposed to my feelings than stoniness. 
 Why, my heart's so soft that it has got me into 
 scrapes before now, and I sometimes wish it 
 wasn't quite so doughy. It has a way of melting 
 like snow at the least specimen of sunshine. After 
 all, it's better to be deceived than to deceive ; 
 and I'll go so far as to say it's more pleasant too. 
 But it's part of the irony o' Fate, sir, that people 
 should be born with inappropriate names ; and 
 yet there's hardly a single writer of romance that 
 knows it. Fate is always capricious and unrea- 
 sonable ; now I'm a man of principle, and that's 
 why I'm not a fatalist," and he burst into a 
 chuckle, or rather a subdued scream of satisfaction 
 at the fluency of his argumentative faculty. 
 
 Arnold asked him how long he had carried 
 on business at Copesbury.
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCEITUS. 113 
 
 ^' For the last twenty years or so," was the 
 reply. " Before that I was a member of the 
 trade in the States for a good spell ; it was 
 there I learned how to write poetry. I'm get- 
 ting on for seventy years of age now, sir, and 
 beyond that I'm a trifle deaf, don't feel much 
 older than when I first settled down here. Some 
 people think I wear rather well. It was the 
 opinion o' the late Duke o' Ditchling. Just 
 before his death he said to me, * You're not 
 much younger than me, Eock,' says he, 'but 
 I'll take odds that you'll outlive my successor 
 for all he's a young chap ; ' and it don't seem 
 unlikely that I may. There won't be much 
 estate left, though, to pay off wagers," added 
 the hero of this aristocratic reminiscence, with 
 another chuckle. Then he started off ao-ain. 
 " Once when he w^as hard up the old lord wanted 
 me to dispose of his library for him, and I w^as 
 engaged for a week or tw^o in making a cata- 
 logue. It's work 1 know something about, and 
 I'm fond of it for its own sake. Well, w^hen it 
 w^as done I knew the contents of every volume 
 in the list from Theology to Sport ; there w^ere 
 a good lot of foreign books, too, and some 
 Oriental ones. I had been acquainted wdth 
 the bulk of 'em before ; so there wasn't much 
 to be surprised at in that. AVe had dinner in 
 the library that night, I and the Duke and 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 several of his friends, — all noblemen. Ah, 
 there's not one of 'em left now, sir, out of that 
 party but myself. It's sad to outlive those 
 whom one has known and loved ; Cicero says 
 it's the chief misfortune of old age. I remember 
 they all began joking together about me because 
 I offered to quote out of any single book in the 
 room. ' All right,' says his Grace, — he was 
 always so keen on a wager — * I'll give you a 
 dozen" of champagne to a bottle o' ginger-beer 
 you can't.' Of course I said ^ done.' So he 
 takes down a book at random, and tells me it's 
 Junius. * That's not a very hard one, my lord,' 
 says I ; ' open it wherever you like, and I'll 
 quote off the page, if you give me a start.' I 
 saw them all open their eyes at this ; but that 
 was nothing to what they looked when I'd 
 quoted the piece word for word. My memory 
 isn't what it was, but I can remember that piece 
 to this day, perhaps on account of the cham- 
 pagne it got me. It was from that attack on 
 the Duke of Bedford, where he says : ' Can grey 
 hairs make folly venerable ? and is no period to 
 be reserved for meditation in retirement ? Shame 
 on you, my lord : let it not be said of you that 
 in the latest hour of your career you followed 
 the same worthless objects, the same restless 
 ambitions in which your prime was spent. Con- 
 sider that you are disgracing the venerable 
 character of age, and exposing the imbecility of
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 115 
 
 the passions after you have lost their vigour.' 
 ' Present company always excepted/ sings out 
 his Grace, roaring with laughter, though the rest 
 of the party looked rather foolish." 
 
 It may be surmised that Mr. Eock treated his 
 noble friends to something better than this ex- 
 purgated version of the original, or he certainly 
 did not deserve to ^vm his bet. 
 
 " That's just a specimen of what I could do 
 once, sir, before I began to lose my cunning," 
 said the Copesbury Nestor; "but a man can't 
 sit still with his mouth open if he wants to 
 acquire learning. When my son was young he 
 used to come and ask me how he could get to 
 be as wdse as me. * Get up for half a century 
 at four in the morning and read till six,' was 
 my advice ; it's what I did myself, so that, 
 allowing a good deduction for Sundays and 
 accidents, there's something like 30,000 hours' 
 reading stowed aw^ay inside me. You can't 
 expect me to be just like my neighbours after 
 that," and the bookseller raised his hands in 
 modest deprecation of any surprise being ex- 
 pressed at his little idiosyncrasy. " But the 
 generality of folks can't go in for brain work of 
 that sort," he went on, resuming his former easy 
 attitude ; " they're unfitted by reason of there 
 being no assiduity in 'em. Take our own people 
 here in Copesbury. I have to press them even 
 to come in and look round my shop by exhibiting 
 
 I 2
 
 116 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 that original poem yonder to the vulgar vision. 
 Since I've been here they've had a cultured focus, 
 so to speak, in their midst, — What did Archi- 
 medes say '? ' Give me a focus, and I will move 
 the world,' — but they're scarcely improved, be- 
 cause they're too ignorant to want to know any- 
 thing. A clergyman told me the other day that 
 when he first went to his present living, close 
 by here, he got on famously with the people, 
 and could do anything with 'em ; till one un- 
 fortunate Sunday, as luck would have it, he 
 gave out from the pulpit that he'd be glad to 
 meet any members of the congregation who liked 
 to attend in the vestry after the service for the 
 purpose of consulting about sending someone to 
 represent them at the diocesan conference. 
 Well, he waited there some time ; and when 
 nobody seemed coming, he set off home. Next 
 day he was surprised by both the churchwardens 
 calling on him together to protest against the 
 popish doctrine they said he'd been preaching 
 the day before. Of course he was a bit taken 
 aback, especially as they only shook their heads 
 and looked solemn when he told 'em he couldn't 
 remember having said anything of that kind. 
 Would you believe it, they thought he'd been 
 asking the parishioners into the vestry to confess 
 to him ! and nothing he could say could shake 
 it out of 'em either. That man's one of the 
 most unpopular preachers in the diocese now.
 
 HERAL'LEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 117 
 
 He's taken to wearino: a black o-owii, but it's no 
 good ; they're skeeiy of him. Once frighten 'em, 
 and they don't settle down again in a generation." 
 
 '^Arraitao:e had better oret Mr. Eock to ojive 
 him a few wrinkles," thought iVrnold. He was 
 getting tired for his own part, however, of sit- 
 tinor, or mther standingr, at the feet of this 
 Gamaliel ; but it was no easy matter to swim 
 out of the current of the veteran's autobio- 
 graphical eloquence. His deafness made liim 
 unconscious of his victim's anxiety to depart, and 
 be at rest, and may have been partly assumed for 
 this purpose. Anyhow, the verbal torrent flowed 
 on pitilessly, and Arnold was submerged agaiu. 
 
 "As a specimen of native pigheadedness 
 that's poor, though. Old Dr. Goddard — he's 
 the coroner, you know ; lives a mile or so out 
 o' the town — he had a butler once with a good 
 average Copesbury intellect, and no mistake. 
 The beer used to run out very fast, faster than 
 the doctor's company accounted for. So one 
 day he sends for this butler, and says, ' The beer 
 seems to evaporate. Thorn pkins ; a cask no 
 sooner comes in full than you tell me it's empty, 
 and we must get in some fresh.' Thompkins 
 scratches his head, and can't make it out, let 
 him think it over any way you like. * Look 
 here,' says the doctor at last, ' you take a bit 
 of paper, and cock down every pint as you 
 draw it for my table and the kitchen, and let
 
 118 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 me see it when I ask for it.' Thompkins agreed 
 all right, and said it was just what he was on 
 the point of suggesting ; but as he didn't leave 
 off taking his private allowance as regular as 
 before they soon found out what became of the 
 extra pints above what he wrote down. After 
 that the doctor thought he'd get on without a 
 butler for a while, and trouser the brass himself. 
 If he's ever asked to write Thompkins a testi- 
 monial, I reckon it'll be a snorter." 
 
 Mr. Eock pausing to take breath and enjoy 
 his joke, Arnold adroitly seized the opportunity 
 of expressing his desire to purchase a book on 
 the counter. ** Ah, that's a work of rare merit, 
 sir," said the dealer ; " scarce too. The Lord 
 Chief Justice admired that book very much. 
 He came to see me when he was last down here 
 at the Assizes. Said he would have bouo^ht it if 
 it hadn't been for his having it already at home. 
 Hullo, what's this written inside ? " 
 
 Holding the volume in one hand, he disen- 
 tangled his spectacles from the jungle where 
 they had hitherto lain in ambush, and proceeded 
 to read : '' ' Morgan Smith, his book. The fifth 
 copy ; four others having been sacrificed to the 
 rapacity of borrowers.' Well, sir, I trust you'll 
 be more fortunate than poor Mr. Smith. There's 
 plenty of lending libraries for people to borrow 
 l)ooks from now-a-days ; and then if they're lost 
 they must be paid for."
 
 HERACLEITUS AND DEMOCRITUS. 119 
 
 The purchase was completed, considerably to the 
 advantage of the vendor, for Arnold was eager not 
 to risk further unlimited discussion by haggling ; 
 and Hiram Eock was left to reflect with some pride 
 how creditably he had sustained his character for 
 cheerful invention and glib mendacity. 
 
 There are some people who cannot keep to 
 the monotonous and dreary high road of truth 
 if tliey w^ould, but their feet must stray lightly 
 along the elastic turf of fantasy, by which they 
 as often as not gain the journey's end sooner, or 
 at least more comfortably than their plodding 
 fellows. Hiram had been lonoj resio^ned to this 
 fact, and, to do him justice, was as astute a 
 pedestrian across country as one could wish to 
 see. Why should lovers of the Ideal be severely 
 distinguished, and the less considerable among 
 them branded w^ith a grievous social stigma ? Is 
 it not by following some such instinct that men 
 reach the summit of artistic, if not of commercial, 
 respectability? Philosophers have not been 
 wantinor to show us how triflinor the difference 
 really is between poets and liars. Mr. Eock's 
 vocation should have been to write books, not 
 to sell them.
 
 120 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER Vr. 
 
 " Oswald. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on 
 
 one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee 1 
 Keyit. What a brazen-faced valet art thou, to deny thou 
 . knowest me ! " — King Lear. 
 
 " I MET a queer old fellow here when I was 
 loafing about to-day," said Arnold to Armitage as 
 they were discussing their coffee and cigars after 
 dinner that evening in the Canon's comfortable 
 bachelor quarters. ** A bookseller who keeps 
 below the Copehouse, isn't it ? Eock I think 
 his name was. A curious old boy in carpet 
 slippers and a very seedy coat, with a tongue 
 as long as my arm. The way he went on 
 about his noble acquaintances in past days 
 was wonderful." 
 
 " I know the man. Quite a character, I be- 
 lieve. And he looks it, certainly." 
 
 " Yes. Booksellers often are worth studying 
 — second-hand booksellers at any rate. The
 
 'forauld laxg syne/ 121 
 
 Cambridge ones certainly used to be very ordin- 
 ary mortals, principally remarkable for a keen 
 eye to business ; but then they are kept alive 
 by the brisk trade they drive. They have no 
 chance of getting buried. But sometimes you 
 do find very extraordinary specimens." 
 
 " Booksellers, if they are worth their salt, are 
 apt to be enthusiasts, you see," said Armitage ; 
 " and enthusiasm is generally entertaining if the 
 object of it is not so serious as to enlist one's 
 sympathies too deeply. A man of the world 
 must laugh at anything approaching to a mono- 
 maniac." 
 
 '' I don't think this old gentleman can be 
 called a monomaniac, unless an intense love of 
 drawing the long-bow can be so entitled," said 
 Robur. " I should think he must be rather a 
 bore after a time. A little of that sort of thing: 
 goes a long way. But it's amusing for a while, 
 though I certainly had enough of it in a very 
 short time." 
 
 " How did you come across him ? " asked 
 Armitage. '' What were you doing to take you 
 into that den of his ? It's not inviting^ from 
 the outside." 
 
 " Oh ! I was just poking about — I have a 
 passion for investigation, you know. I wandered 
 through all sorts of queer by-ways and alleys 
 this afternoon — narrow, crooked streets that seem
 
 122 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 to lead nowhere, as our tutor at Trinity said of 
 the small coUeo^es. The sarcasm was uninten- 
 tional, but it was appreciated." 
 
 " You Trinity men always seem to feel it your 
 duty to speak evil of every other seminary of 
 sound learning," said Armitage. " It has the 
 effect on an unfortunate outsider like myself 
 of suggesting that possibly when it is necessary 
 so strongly to emphasise the superiority, the 
 superiority is not so substantial as it might 
 be. You always seem to think Trinity ' the 
 hub of the solar system.' " 
 
 " Perhaps we're not so far wrong either," said 
 Robur. '* Even Oxford men generally allow — 
 however, we won't talk of that. I wonder if 
 this old fellow really is tolerably capable. I 
 rather want to find some one to catalogue my 
 books at Oakleigh. I don't see why he shouldn't 
 do as well as another." 
 
 " Oh, I fancy he's got his wits about him," 
 said Armitage. " He may be a trifle shaky about 
 the legs, but he's no cripple under the hat, as 
 Uncle Remus says. I expect he puts on a good 
 price to his goods when he meets with a likely 
 customer." 
 
 '^ Human nature, to say nothing of book- 
 sellers," observed Arnold. '* They're all tarred 
 with the same brush so far as that goes. A 
 man must have an eye to his own interests.
 
 'for AULD LANG SYNE.' 123 
 
 That makes no difference in regard to my 
 books, so long as he doesn't go off with any- 
 thing. Though, for that matter, what he's to 
 go off with from Oakleigh it would be hard 
 to say." 
 
 Accordingly Arnold made his way back to the 
 shop next morning. Mr. Rock received him 
 with open arms — metaphorically — and mouth — 
 literally. 
 
 " Back again soon, sir. Now it's wonderful 
 what a fancy people take to my shop when 
 once they've been inside. There was the Duke 
 of Exford, sir — many's the time I've talked with 
 his Grace by the hour together in this shop, and 
 all because he happened to pick up a book he 
 had a fancy for the first time he came in. 
 Wonderful man, the Duke. Such an eye for 
 a curious binding. I used to think sometimes 
 he cared more about them than the insides. 
 Perhaps he did. Now I never could under- 
 stand that bibliomaniac's craze, sir. Give me 
 a book with plenty inside it, and who cares 
 what the cover's like ? To be sure one does 
 like to see good print and good paper and 
 good leather at the back, but after all the 
 binding's but the guinea stamp, the book's the 
 gold for a' that, if I may be j)ermitted to make 
 an adaptation of the illustrious Nightingale of 
 the North. Don't mind me, sir. Pray look
 
 124 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 round and see if you can suit yourself. Now, 
 here's a book you might like to look at — very 
 rare and curious, and dirt-cheap at the price. 
 But there's no demand for that sort of article 
 now-a-days," he concluded, as Arnold showed no 
 interest in the volume in question, 
 
 " You mentioned yesterday that you had had 
 some experience in cataloguing and arranging 
 libraries," said Arnold. " I should like to know 
 what your terms for such work would be." 
 
 '' Experience ! Oh yes ! There was Sir Duncan 
 Vavasour's library, now. Very fine set of books 
 he had. Not a lai*ge library ; select, you know 
 ' — about five thousand volumes. Some valuable 
 books there ; but such a state as they were in 
 when I took them in hand you never saw — all 
 higgledy-piggledy, odd volumes in different 
 shelves, Mungo Park cheek by jowl with New- 
 ton's Principia, fine old Cicero leaning up 
 against Eabelais, and so on. But bless you he 
 never used to read them. Half the volumes 
 were tumbling to bits, backs broken, leaves 
 damp-stained and worm-eaten. Now it's worth 
 while to have a library like that to work in, 
 badly kept as it was ; some very curious old 
 tomes there. Very agreeable man, Sir Duncan. 
 Used to say he wished I had the books and he 
 had the price of them ; we should use them both 
 better that way. Very pleasant man, but no
 
 'for auld laxg syne.' 125 
 
 scholar, sir. Now with you it's different, as I 
 can see. You know a good book when you see 
 one, and it's not so many people can do that." 
 
 Arnold had been examining the books one 
 after another as the bookseller spoke, and won- 
 dering how long he would go on. At last how- 
 ever he became impatient, and managed with. 
 considerable exertion to keep his man to the 
 business in hand, while he explained what he 
 wanted and extracted his terms. 
 
 " But you see now, sir," the bookseller pro- 
 ceeded, " the season's just going to begin, and 
 I've got my hands pretty full, of course. Not 
 but what a second-hand business has a good deal 
 going on all through the year : but the season 
 makes a lot of difference. You wouldn't think, 
 now, what a lot there is of it even in a little 
 dead-alive j)lace like this. I've often thought of 
 going and setting up in town — but bless you, 
 sir, I like the country, that's where it is ; and 
 this is as good as country, after all. And you 
 see I've been fixed here so long I'd have to pull 
 up a root or two if I were to move now." 
 
 "Do you mean that you haven't got the time 
 to do my business ? " said Arnold. "I suppose 
 you're not likely to h^ve more later on ? " 
 
 '' I can't quite say, sir. There's a j)recious lot 
 to be done just now. But I'll see what I've 
 got in hand and let you know if you like, sir.
 
 126 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Though t don't much expect I shall be able to 
 do it." 
 
 " Well, you've got my address. If you have 
 time you'd better write and say so, though I 
 can't eno;ao;e not to have s^ot some one else to do 
 it, of course. By the way, I shall be away for 
 some while, so you'd better leave yourself a 
 maro^in of time, as the letters will have to be 
 forwarded." 
 
 " Very good, sir," responded Mr. Rock as 
 Arnold went out. 
 
 " Now there's a chance," said the bookseller 
 to himself when he was alone — " there's a chance 
 I should have been glad of once. Big house, I 
 suppose ; lots of money too. That young fellow's 
 evidently a bit of a swell, and he's as easy to 
 cheat as — as " — he looked round him as though 
 in search of a simile — " as unborn twins. (Won- 
 der where I've heard that phrase before — rather 
 effective.) Walk round him in no time. Sort 
 of goose with golden eggs, I've no doubt, if he 
 were only in judicious hands. Ah ! those days 
 are gone. I'm too old for that sort of thing 
 now — not but what I've something left in me 
 yet," he continued, straightening himself — or at 
 least makinir an effort in that direction. " But 
 once ! Shade of — ahem ! better not mention 
 names — what a good thing you might have made 
 of this. I wonder if he is a shade, though.
 
 'for AULD LANG syxe/ 127 
 
 Perhaps he'll turn up again some day. H'm ! it 
 mightn't be altogether convenient for me, either, 
 if he did, supposing he chose to rake up old 
 scores. Well, well ! He wouldn't find it easy 
 to get hold of me, after all, if he did. And he's 
 not likely to want to either." 
 
 Irony almost Sophoclean ! Next morning as 
 Mr. Rock was arranging some books lately 
 received, there entered the shop a man with a 
 bag. He was tall and somewhat spare in figure, 
 but looked active and alert, and as if he had 
 more life left in him than most men between 
 forty and fifty. He greeted Mr. Rock, and said 
 he had called on business connected with a 
 weekly paper — the Tub a Mirabilis. 
 
 "Aha! my frieudly penny trumpet!" said 
 Mr. Rock. " If you'll step this way we can be 
 private." So saying he led the way up the 
 rickety stairs to his penetralia. 
 
 When Mr. Rock spoke the stranger quickly 
 bent forward to scrutinise his face in the gloom 
 of the low-ceiled shop. He said nothing how- 
 ever, and followed the bookseller upstairs. Once 
 in his sanctum, Mr. Rock closed the door and 
 motioned his visitor to a chair. 
 
 " Now, for your business, Mr. — Mr. — " 
 
 " Edwards, my name is," said the other, as he 
 profi'ered a card. '' My business can wait a few 
 minutes though, Mr. Bennett."
 
 128 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 The bookseller started. " You are mistaken. 
 My name is Eock." 
 
 " Bennett, I think I said," calmly insisted the 
 other. 
 
 '*Who the devil are you?" ejaculated Rock, 
 angrily. 
 
 "If it comes to that, who the devil are you, 
 to be trading under a false name, I should like 
 to know ? " retorted his visitor, with that cool 
 air of mastery which is best calculated to discom- 
 pose an adversary. 
 
 Mr. Rock looked closely at him. " Eh ? No 
 it can't be. 'Gad, it is though. And how the 
 what's-'is-name come you to be calling in con- 
 nexion with the Tuha ? " 
 
 " Never mind that, Bennett, my boy — " 
 
 " Rock, if you please." 
 
 "Rock, then. Never mind what I've been 
 about. Here have I found you again, to all 
 appearances a peaceable and industrious citizen, 
 in the enjoyment of a comfortable income from 
 a snuo- little business in a trade in which it's the 
 
 o 
 
 custom, and therefore a guaranteed right, to take 
 all the advantage you can of the verdant fresh- 
 ness and gullibility of the most gullible class of 
 mortals on the face of the earth — book-fanciers 
 to wit. Oh the frauds of this world ! I thought 
 T knew your voice the moment you spoke, but 
 that poky shop of yours down there is so in-
 
 'for auld LANG syne/ 129 
 
 fernally dark I couldn't see your face till I got 
 up here. But there was no mistake about it 
 then, though." Mr. Edwards burst out laughing. 
 " I hope I've kept a little better than you, old 
 man." 
 
 Mr. Rock was sitting dejectedly all sunk 
 together in his chair, with an appearance of 
 having had his bones taken out, gazing into 
 the fire. His comrade's levity failed to rouse 
 him. 
 
 " To think of your having come back and 
 opened it all up again!" he said gloomily. 
 " Just when IVe settled well down and become 
 an institution, too. I did think I'd got quiet at 
 last." 
 
 The other burst out laughing again. " A nice 
 way to welcome an old friend, that. And I 
 should like to know what I've done or said to 
 disturb your peace and quietness. However 
 we'd better get our business done sharp. Fact 
 is, I've come down about the circulation of the 
 7}{da. You don't seem to have been selling as 
 many as you used to do, and you're the only 
 bookseller here who sells for us. Let's talk it 
 over ; then we can have a chat about old times, 
 eh, old man ? " 
 
 Mr. Eock did not altogether seem to appreciate 
 his visitor's tone, but he acquiesced like a man 
 who has no help for it. They despatched their 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 l:]0 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 business quickly, and then Edwards settled him- 
 self in his chair with an air of intending to stay 
 there. The resignation stamped on the book- 
 seller's face would have been pathetic if it had 
 not had too much of the ludicrous in it. 
 
 " Got a pipeful of 'baccy to offer an old friend, 
 after so long a separation ? " inquired his visitor, 
 with a grin at the other's disconsolate appearance. 
 
 Mr. Rock handed him a jar, and Edwards pro- 
 ceeded to fill and light his pipe : then he leaned 
 back comfortably in an arm-chair, took some 
 placid whiffs at his briar, and like a man who 
 holds the tenace over his adversary, waited to be 
 led up to. 
 
 Mr. Rock siorhed once or twice, and then in 
 turn silently lighted his pipe. '' I was always 
 afraid you'd turn up again somewhere," he said 
 dolefully. " It's very hard on a man that he 
 can't bury and forget what's past and done with. 
 I thought I had got rid of it all, though, at 
 last." 
 
 Edwards laughed again. He was immensely 
 tickled by the bookseller's thorough despondency, 
 and was at no trouble to conceal his amusement. 
 *' Come," he said, " don't put on that long face, 
 old man. There's no reason why we should 
 remember everything of old times. There's a 
 great deal of it that was jolly enough ; and for 
 the rest," he shruo;ged his shoulders carelesslv.
 
 131 
 
 *' what does it matter ? So long as you're ready 
 to give a helping hand to a friend, Tm quite 
 ready to let bygones be bygones. But of 
 course — " 
 
 " Yes, there's always a 'but,' that's the worst 
 of it. I knew there was bound to be a ' but ' 
 wdth you ; it ahvays was your way, you know — • 
 Edwards," said the bookseller. 
 
 " Of course, you know by this time, Eock, 
 that if one man puts another man's name on 
 a piece of paper without authority, any third 
 person who is acquainted with the transaction, 
 and can prove the facts, is in a position to make 
 it rather tight for somebody — supposing he 
 wants to." 
 
 Eock simply writhed under these observations, 
 despite their general character, but said nothing. 
 Edwards continued, watching him. 
 
 "Supposing he wants to — there's the point. 
 And there are some other little things — pecca- 
 dilloes, let's call them, — of wdiich the law is 
 pleased to take a more serious view than perhaps 
 is warranted by their euormity. But we needn't 
 mention them. Purely general remarks, my 
 dear fellow, — no particular applicatiou. Why 
 should there be ? But you and I always used to 
 understand one another." 
 
 Mr. Eock showed simis of beingf roused. " I 
 don't think you ever came to grief from not 
 
 K 2
 
 132 ARNOLD flOBUR. 
 
 understanding either me or any one else," he 
 said bitterly. 
 
 Edwards inclined his head, with a mock 
 obeisance. " I believe you're right," he said, 
 " though I says it as shouldn't. I acknowledge 
 the compliment wdth thanks. It is cheerful to 
 find one's talents appreciated by any one, in this 
 cold hard world." 
 
 " I don't fancy appreciation of your talents is 
 likely to lead to any greatly increased respect for 
 your personality," said Eock. 
 
 Edwards assumed a look of astonishment. 
 " Can I believe my ears ? Let me congratulate 
 you on the acquisition of a sarcastic vein. I 
 don't remember anything of the sort in old times. 
 How did you come by it, old man ? Don't be 
 too careless how you use it, though. It isn't 
 always safe to stir sleeping dogs, you know." 
 
 Mr. Eock said nothing, but thought to himself 
 that unless his old comrade was mightily changed, 
 which he didn't seem to be, it would take a great 
 deal of sarcasm to rouse him into neglecting his 
 own interests for purposes of vengeance. Edwards 
 seemed to read his thoughts. 
 
 " Ah ! it's to mj interest to keep quiet, you 
 think : and so lons^ as that's the case there's no 
 fear of my babbling ? Well, perhaps it is — so 
 long as you keep friendly and don't mind doing 
 a friend a good turn now and again. But you
 
 'for AULD LANG SYNE.' 133 
 
 see, I have a pull over you, old man ; and if the 
 worst comes to the worst, I've a deal less to lose 
 by the publication of certain little facts in our 
 past history than you have. It would be a great 
 blow to have tales told of a respectable citizen — 
 respectable even if he does seem a bit eccentric,'' 
 added Edwards cruelly — for unless the eccen- 
 tricity be an affectation, it is not pleasant to its 
 owner to be told of it — •'such as how once in 
 his younger days — " 
 
 '• Xow don t talk like that — don't ! "' ejaculated 
 the bookseller in an agony. 
 
 '• Well, well,'*' said Edwards with an assump- 
 tion of o-ood humour, " we won't talk more of 
 that. Perhaps it's as well not to be too explicit, 
 so long as we understand one another, as I said 
 before. That's all I want." 
 
 Brutal insensibility by itself is apt to fall by 
 its own mass, and generally handicaps a man 
 heavily in the race of life : but the same equality, 
 when combined with cunning, and used artistic- 
 ally, is one of the most formidable weapons a 
 man can possess. The power of cutting with a 
 steady hand deeper and deeper into the soul and 
 watching the victim writhe beneath the opera- 
 tion, yet without flinching — even delighting in 
 the ruthlessness of the task — this power is given 
 to few : and those who possess it may often sway 
 their fellow-men and rise above circumstance ;
 
 134 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 but they are men to be feared always — hated 
 often — loved never. Their associates are their 
 victims, who would break the bond if they 
 dared, or were able. Edwards was one of these 
 men. Without the qualities which go to form 
 the villain on a large scale, he had all the pitiless 
 selfishness, all the low cuuning to help it, which 
 fit a man to hold a tyranny over his associates in 
 evil. Had he taken to it, his natural insensibility 
 to the pain of others would have made him an 
 excellent surgeon. But vivisection is not usually 
 practised on men's hearts with a view to the 
 benefit of any one but the practitioner. Edwards 
 knew his man : he had a purpose in his method ; 
 but apart from that the mere mental condition 
 of Mr. Rock was an entertaining study. He sat 
 back in his chair as he talked through the whiff's 
 of his pipe, and watched the bookseller keenly 
 and with a sense of enjoyment, making note 
 mentally of his transition from dejection to irri- 
 tability, and from irritability to the most abject 
 suffering, and feeling some pride in the skill with 
 which he could make stage succeed stage just as 
 he wished it to do so. 
 
 " Well," said Rock sullenly after a pause, 
 " what is it you want me to do, to come to the 
 point ? I suppose you want money, though you 
 don't look so confoundedly hard up." 
 
 Edwards laughed. '' I dare say I look more
 
 'for AULD LANG SYNE.' 135 
 
 prosperous than you do, old man : I hope I do, 
 in all conscience — though all isn't gold that 
 glitters, you know, and a good coat may make 
 an empty pocket. No, T don't want money — 
 at least not on the spot, and from you. It 
 would be mean to come begging of an old friend, 
 wouldn't it ? " 
 
 *' "Well, what in thunder do you want, then ? " 
 asked the other. He looked relieved, however, 
 to find that there was no immediate call on his 
 purse-strings. 
 
 " Oh ! the fact is I'm sick of this business. 
 It's all very well for a while. There's plenty to 
 do, and lots of fools to — well, on whom to exer- 
 cise those faculties for which you were so good 
 as to compliment me just now. But it's damued 
 drudgery, and one gets awfully tired of it after 
 a bit. Couldn't we manage a coup of some sort 
 toofether, eh ? You used to be a g;reat hand at 
 devising a coup^ you know." 
 
 Eock shook his head. " I'm quite out of 
 that sort of thing. Couldn't do it if I tried 
 now, and I haven't tried for years and years. 
 I'm quite a reformed character, and when a 
 man has got straight you can't expect him 
 to g^et out of it. After all, there's nothinor 
 like honesty and a quiet life, you know. The 
 Earl of Watney used to say to me, * Rock,' said 
 he, ' you're a lucky man ; you've got a calling
 
 136 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 where yoti can cheat as much as you please and 
 still be an honest man.' Witty man, his lord- 
 ship." Mr. Rock was recovering himself, and 
 fell into his habit of story-telling instantly and 
 naturally in consequence. " Often and often — " 
 
 "Oh ! drop that rot," said Edwards. " Never 
 mind your cursed aristocrats. If you get on to 
 them I know we shall get stuck where we are. 
 Damn your maudlin morality ; none of your 
 dinners of herbs for me. I go in for the stalled 
 ox — when I can get him." 
 
 ''Don't see how I'm going to help you to any, 
 though," said the bookseller. '' I'm quite out of 
 the way of them myself." And he looked rue- 
 fully at his rusty habiliments. 
 
 " Which means that you're not on with me, I 
 suppose," said Edwards. " Well, just as you 
 like : but remember what I said. So long as a 
 man is ready to help a friend, it's not reasonable 
 that that friend should be too careful to rake 
 up the past : but if you've got the whip hand, 
 there's no reason why you shouldn't use your 
 advantage — fairly and honourably and above- 
 board, of course. Now just try and think a bit. 
 Can't you offer a suggestion ? " 
 
 The bookseller pondered. " It's no go, 
 Edwards," he said slowly; "no go. Now there 
 was a young chap in here — when was it ? — 
 yesterday, who might have been a subject for
 
 'foe AULD LANG SYNE.' 137 
 
 you — Eobur his name was. Gentleman, seems 
 to have a big house — at least he's got a good 
 library — and lots of money, I should think. 
 Wanted me to go there and catalogue the books. 
 It's not good enough, though. Besides, what 
 could I do with him ? He's going to be away 
 from home, and I don't see any ojDening for 
 myself. Now if it had been you — you might 
 have made something of it." 
 
 " H'm. Don't see why we shouldn't, now. 
 Why shouldn't I go there as your assistant, or 
 better, as your deputy ? " said Edwards hopefully, 
 as new possibilities opened themselves out before 
 him. " It might be worth trying. Why not ? " 
 
 " And what would you do when you got there ? 
 How are you going to make anything out of it ? 
 unless you go in for burglary," said Rock, laugh- 
 ing. He had now quite recovered, and entered 
 into the spirit of the thing with a zest of which 
 he could never have suspected himself a few 
 hours before. 
 
 " Burglary ? ahem ! it doesn't sound well, 
 does it ? But what's in a name ? ' A rose by 
 any other name,' you know. By Jove ! quoting 
 Shakespeare ! This won't do, out of the shop. 
 Never mind what I do when I get there. Give 
 me a start and I'll engage to help myself on. 
 Why shouldn't I go instead of you ? Just fancy 
 me grinding away at cataloguing books, though ! "
 
 138 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 The pair, now quite amicable, settled that this 
 should be so, and after arranging some details, 
 parted in comparative hilarity. 
 
 A couple of days later, Mr. Rock received a 
 note from his colleague. '* Won't do," the latter 
 wrote. " At least, not as we settled. I've met 
 your phoenix, he came to our office to-day. Now 
 it would hardly do if he were to discover that I 
 went to catalogue his books ; especially if any- 
 thing wrong happened while I was there. You 
 must write and say you can go, and I'll be in 
 the neighbourhood, and we'll see what can be 
 done. If Robur were safe to be out of the way 
 all the time, it would be different ; but anyway 
 you'd better go. Perhaps I might come and 
 help you to make the list, you know."
 
 'sweetness and light.' 139 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " For although no fountain on earth can compare with the 
 clearness of Helicon, yet there lies at the bottom a thick 
 sediment of slime and mud ; for so Apollo beggtd of Jupiter, 
 as a punishment to those who durst to taste it with un- 
 hallowed lips, and for a le.'^son to all not to drink too deep 
 or far from the spring." — Swift. 
 
 The official residences of the fourth estate are 
 situated in the quarter of Philistia ; and thither 
 Arnold was conveyed by Robert Paston the 
 morning after his arrival at the latter's house in 
 AVimpole Street. Threading their way through 
 a number of narrow and dirty thoroughfares, 
 they found themselves standing before an un- 
 pretentious building at the top of Ascalon alley, 
 and were forthwith shown into a room on the 
 first floor. A bearded individual was reclinino^ 
 in an arm-chair before the fire, correcting proofs. 
 " Aha ! my literary leech," cried he as Paston 
 entered ; " this is an opportune visit. I am 
 writing an article on ' The March of Medical
 
 140 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Science during tlie past year,' and find myself 
 absolutely sticking for want of a fact or two to 
 form the nucleus." 
 
 " How d'ye do, Mr. Robur ? " said this worthy, 
 when Arnold had been introduced, 'Wery happy 
 to see you have followed professional advice in 
 making yourself acquainted with the most central 
 of social ganglia, sir." 
 
 " Don't go on like that, Mr. Bloss ; you will 
 make my friend nervous. The fact is we've 
 called to find out whether you can't make use of 
 him now and then to review a book. He's not 
 in need of work from a pecuniary point of view ; 
 and though he's had no actual experience in 
 journalism, he is a man of more culture than 
 your average literary hack, and comes here fresh 
 from a pretty extensive course of European 
 travel." 
 
 This summary of his merits was not very 
 enjoyable to Arnold, but Mr. Bloss did not seem 
 to consider the terms in which it was couched 
 by any means extravagant. " Well," replied 
 that gentleman, " of course you know how many 
 calls upon him a person in my position has. I 
 assure you I have ten times as many applications 
 as I can satisfy" (which was quite true). " But, 
 of course, knowing you, Paston, as I do, it's a 
 different matter ; and I shall be delighted to be 
 of assistance to Mr. Robur, even to the extent of
 
 'sweetness and light/ 141 
 
 reading tlirongh any independent article lie sends 
 me, though I can't promise to insert it," 
 
 *• This season of the year is naturally a brisk 
 one for our trade," observed Mr. Bloss, when 
 Arnold had tendered his thanks. *' Christmas 
 time brings the conservative side of the public 
 uppermost, and is for that reason a joyful festival 
 for us journalists, who have to shape our stuff 
 accordingly.'* 
 
 " I always thought," said Arnold, " that the 
 frost and snow of December brought with them 
 an unusually keen blast of criticism on the 
 journals." 
 
 " Quite so," returned the editor ; *' but then 
 we court it ; like the man in the fable, we have 
 taken good care to provide ourselves w^ith great- 
 coats, and the breeze can only wrap these more 
 closely about us. You see, my good sir, the 
 same thing comes regularly every year, and w^e 
 know exactly what sort of weather to prepare 
 for ; so we just lie up in our snug forest of Arden, 
 and whistle 'Blow, blow, thou winter wind,' 
 carelessly enough. Now at other times the 
 temperature is so changeable we don't know 
 what to expect ; and so we're always losing 
 by it." 
 
 " It's much the same in our profession," re- 
 marked the doctor. " Cases increase during the 
 annual plum-pudding carnival; and the best of
 
 142 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 it is that the symptoms always exhibit a wonder- 
 ful uniformity. Otherwise we might be rather 
 inconvenienced by the extra demand on our 
 offices. As it is, we sally forth gleefully every 
 morning, armed with the light aperient and 
 cooling drug." 
 
 " That's it, sir. Now look at us : we've had 
 our properties carefully packed away all the 
 year where we can find 'em. Then at the 
 appropriate moment we trot out the Star of 
 Bethlehem glittering with fresh paste, repair the 
 battered manger, and furbish up our job lot of 
 tarnished swords and helmets for the faded 
 Cherubim and Seraphim. Nothing could be 
 simpler when you can reckon on human nature 
 like this ; and we make the most of our chances 
 in this shop." 
 
 Mr. Bloss was allowed to speak for himself. 
 He did not attract his hearers' sympathies, and 
 it is to be hoped that his attitude on this point 
 does not represent that of most of his fellows- 
 craftsmen. His inconsiderate want of tact would 
 have betrayed the vulgar- minded tradesman even 
 if his manners and exterior had been more 
 polished than they were. His abilities were 
 small ; and all he acquired was for a temporary 
 purpose, and soon dissipated. As a very young 
 man he might not have been deficient in enthu- 
 siasm ; but his experience on the various news-
 
 ' SWEETNESS AND LIGHT.' 14 3 
 
 papers with which he had been connected had 
 warned him in good time that this was a foible 
 to be corrected, except in so far as it could be 
 exalted to the level of a marketable article. For 
 this purpose it must be, as is w^ell known, of a 
 peculiarly elastic nature ; and Mr. Bloss had not 
 been slow in cultivating this admirable quality. 
 He was a judicious trimmer ; and the secret of 
 his success as a journalist lay in the fact that 
 long practice had trained him thoroughly in the 
 art of maintaining a masterly self-adaptability by 
 the side of a show of earnest conviction. His 
 finger was always upon the pulse of public 
 opinion ; while his readers were satisfied that it 
 w^as he who guided tbat blind and arbitrary 
 force, orioinatinor so much of it as was rioiit, and 
 conscientiously opposing it when it was wrong, 
 for the common Q-ood. Leader-writino: is a form 
 of amusement in which a taste for inconsistency 
 may be indulged more freely than is alloAved in 
 any other kind of serious efi"usion. It may be 
 on account of the shadowy and impersonal 
 authority attached to the modicum of declam- 
 ation which daily and weekly garnishes the 
 table of every respectable householder ; it may 
 be the very transient efi'ect produced upon the 
 intelligence of the persons addressed, the peaceful 
 oblivion of what the leader said yesterday in 
 which we skim the leader to-day. But, whether
 
 144 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 it be the irresponsibility of the stuff, or the ease 
 with which it fades from the memory, leaving 
 as clean a tabula rasa as it found, the journalist's 
 stock of information need not be less perishable 
 than his ephemeral productions ; nor is a re- 
 tentive mind much better than an encumbrance 
 to him, whatever may be the case with the pro- 
 fessed liar. In the absence of evidence to the 
 contrary one w^ould be disposed to suspect the 
 author of the saying *' Teach me rather to forget " 
 of having been at some time of his life a manu- 
 facturer of leaders or ' pars.' 
 
 But an excursion behind the scenes was Mr. 
 Bloss's pet subject of familiar intercourse ; so he 
 did not pause long enough for his visitors' silence 
 to appear anything but a well-bred sign of con- 
 currence in his remarks. 
 
 *' Well, gentlemen, we caterers for the pul)lic 
 benefit have to keep a careful eye on the pre- 
 vailino: tastes and tendencies of consumers. Now, 
 you know, the great tendency of our time is 
 towards sensationalism in journalism ; and this 
 tendency is slowly fighting its way onwards and 
 upwards from the lowest to the highest classes, 
 from pinching poverty to gilded aristocracy. 
 A few years ago the rage for this sort of thing 
 w^as confined to the uninstructed million, the 
 classes among whom the cheap cut-throat found 
 a ready acceptance ; " here the lecturer cleared
 
 'sweetness and light/ 145 
 
 his own throat, happily a whole one, and the 
 doctor winked surreptitiously at Arnold ; " the 
 taste for this Mother Midnight literature was, 
 however, currently held to be depraved in the 
 monde of fashion, and the few cheap serials and 
 papers which adopted such a tone for conveying 
 their ordinary and sober facts were said to pander 
 to the vitiated mob, and encourage low cravings. 
 What lady with a reputation would have allowed 
 her area steps to be defiled with a copy of the 
 Daily JDustinan, or her fair finger-tips to be 
 soiled by contact with the Monthly Muckrake, 
 otherwise than by suspending the garbage at the 
 extremity of a pair of tongs ? But how stands 
 the case now ? Eealism is fast becoming di. piece 
 de resistance in fiction, and the same tendency is 
 observable in journalism of the first water." 
 
 '' That being so," observed Paston, *' it must 
 be a great consolation to reflect that when you 
 swim with the tide the liquid that supports you 
 is of the best quality. But, as you say, facts 
 have got to be dressed up now-a-days to look as 
 much like fiction as possible, if their compilers 
 want them to be worth much as * copy ' for the 
 papers ; and, by all the shams in devildom, you 
 know how to mix your colours, Mr. Bloss." 
 
 The editor was flattered. " Our organ will 
 not sound so blatant in a year or two as some 
 people think it does now," said he, smiling. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 *' Yes, sir, the Frightful and the Scandalous 
 are the two best colours in the box. There is 
 nothing I know of better than these, — varied, 
 of course, with the sparkling interview, or 
 fancy sketch. Our trade presents a new field 
 for inventive genius, sir, a philanthropic open- 
 ing for original talent. And that reminds me," 
 he added, going towards a speakiag-tube, " that 
 we can show you a sample of the article." So 
 saying he whistled, and inquired if an individual 
 addressed as " Mac " was disengaged and would 
 step up to join them. 
 
 " I always call him Mac," explained Mr. Bloss, 
 " but that isn't his real name ; it's fond for 
 Machiavelli, who wasn't a Scotchman, I believe. 
 But the wily Italian w^ould have been an innocent 
 at contriving ruses, compared to Edwards." 
 
 The hero of this eulogy, entering at that 
 moment, was forthwith presented to Arnold ; 
 Paston was already acquainted with him, so 
 there was no need to repeat the ceremony in his 
 case. Arnold saw before him a man midway 
 between forty and fifty. His hair and beard, 
 which was a thick one, were of a dull, colourless 
 complexion, — certainly not dark, but scarcely 
 pronounced enough to be called positively fair. 
 His head was beginning to turn grey in patches, 
 but his frame was wiry, and full of nervous 
 activity, like that of quite a young man ; in
 
 'sweetness and light." 147 
 
 short, the whole figure was that of one perpetually 
 on the alert. A police description would pro- 
 bably have called him tall and slight ; but true 
 as such isolated characteristics might be, they 
 would be positively misleading if they stood 
 alone, unqualified by that strange physical tension 
 and agility which most of all occupied the ob- 
 server's attention, and recalled somethino^ of the 
 trained athlete. 
 
 Such w^as Arnold's impression of the man to 
 whom he bowed. Had he been watching him 
 less closely, he might have missed seeing a certain 
 inexplicable trace of embarrassment which showed 
 itself in Mr. Edwards' manner, and deepened the 
 habitual expression on his face, at the name of 
 Robur. Not that Arnold consciously connected 
 the two things at the time ; cruelty and fear are 
 only too commonly found together as ingredients 
 of character ; and the crafty advertising: aorent 
 had forgotten himself for once, and by a moment- 
 ary revelation furnished an example of this 
 unnatural compound. The phenomenon w^as 
 less surprising than disgusticg, and the very 
 frequency with which nature is perverted, either 
 in this, or some other way, takes off the keen 
 edge of the disgust ; so that Edwards was soon 
 able by an elaborate assumption of ease to dispel 
 much of the bad impression caused by his 
 buno^linor. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Fortunately for him the voluble Bloss, with 
 his coarse familiarity, provided an invaluable 
 counter-irritant, and would almost have made a 
 blackamoor appear white by contrast. 
 
 *' There he stands, gentlemen ; our secret 
 emissary, the chief of our corps diplomatique. 
 Fresh from the foray, I'll be bound. Hast 
 scented carrion of late, my tame vulture, that 
 thou look'st so crop-full 1 " 
 
 The agent intimating that his morning had 
 not been idle, Bloss was transported to a degree 
 of admiration incapable of being communicated 
 to laymen. 
 
 " Ah, Mac, Mac ! " he murmured with the tears 
 in his eyes, *' what an incorrigible old hardshell 
 you are ! " 
 
 '' The editorial nature may have its weaknesses," 
 he went on to remark after this ebullition of 
 feeling, " but the sterner side soon conquers them. 
 The advertising department, I admit, is my one 
 vulnerable point ; it is the centre of our affec- 
 tions, the home towards which all the imagina- 
 tive romance wdthin us yearns. All the other 
 contents of our paper are subservient compared 
 to the advertisements. It is for them that w^e 
 strive to make our articles attractive, and secure 
 a large circulation. It is for this end that Mac 
 and his attaches may be found everyw^here, 
 cajoling and threatening. They have a difficult
 
 ' SWEETNESS A>'D LIGHT," 149 
 
 mission to perform, but it is one worthy of a 
 man's intellect, and teems with grand possibilities. 
 To persuade the recalcitrant and backward, to 
 hold up before them the example of rivals who 
 are in the habit of keeping themselves before 
 the public notice by occupying the most promi- 
 nent spaces with their announcements ; to hint 
 the probability of the prudent inserters seeing 
 their goods, patents, or inventions specially 
 written up in a leader, and to suggest how 
 unpleasantly the consequences might affect those 
 who refuse to accept our offer of bettering their 
 own position, — all this affords scope for talent of 
 a very peculiar order, gentlemen ; now don't it ? " 
 
 Arnold turned to Edwards. '' So that is what 
 you have to do, is it • "' said he. Bloss was 
 eno-rossed in refuting: some cavil of the doc tor "s, 
 and his attention was evidently distracted for 
 the moment from his trusty scj^uire. Edwards 
 made sure of this before he replied. 
 
 '• AVell. not exactly. It may be quite true of 
 a business like this in its earlier st:„:-. l-ffore 
 it has established itself. Of course I l.;L t say 
 what dodges may not be employed occasionally 
 at such a time. All I can vouch for is that, for 
 the period during which I have been associated 
 with the success of the concern, the business 
 of my department has been quite open and 
 satisfactorv."
 
 150 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Edwards liad reason to congratulate himself on 
 having seized the opportunity. He saw that it 
 would be easy to make his chief seem entirely 
 responsible for the bad impression which Arnold 
 had formed of these professional mysteries. As 
 for that fantastic young purist, if he chanced to 
 make any false inference from the agent's care- 
 fully-worded reply, it was at his own risk, and 
 he should have remembered that he was talking 
 to a diplomatist. Edwards had, indeed, been 
 associated wdth the Tuha through a great part 
 of its development ; having seen it grow to its 
 present dimensions, from what may be described 
 as its penny trumpet stage. But this is a 
 detail ; and, since audacity often turns out to 
 be the safest weapon in diplomacy, it remained 
 undiscovered. 
 
 Arnold was trying to believe that he had 
 judged this new acquaintance too harshly all 
 the time the latter was conducting him over 
 the office ; for they had slipped out of the 
 room for this purpose without disturbing the 
 others. 
 
 But when they had exhausted the novelty (to 
 the visitor) of the warehouse, and the publish- 
 ing and advertising departments, they had 
 scarcely approached any nearer to intimacy than 
 when they began ; and yet they talked a good 
 deal. The conversation was, however, not with-
 
 'SWEETNESS AND LIGHT. 151 
 
 out its effects ; Arnold left off attempting to 
 account for his odd antipathy to the agent on 
 any rational ground ; and Edwards was satisfied 
 that fortune had once again favoured her son, 
 by establishing beyond a doubt the identity of 
 Paston's friend with Hiram Eock's patron. He 
 did this by means of a few clever questions, 
 put with an off-hand air, and sounding like the 
 usual polite nothings which men improvise more 
 or less clumsily to tide over some casual inter- 
 course. Thus, checking a yaw^n, he asked Arnold, 
 with admirably simulated ennui, if he did not 
 wish himself in the country to enjoy the passing 
 gleam of sunshine. 
 
 " I might do so more if I had not just come 
 up to town," was the response. 
 
 " You are in a fortunate position, sir. Of 
 course I get my little annual outing ; but my 
 enjoyment of the beauties of nature, and all its 
 charms, is cut so short that it only makes me 
 feel the want of it all the worse afterwards. 
 Now and then I w^ork up our agents in the 
 provinces ; but of course I seldom halt in any 
 but the larger towns. There's no pleasure about 
 that, because they all try to be like London, and 
 don't do it well." 
 
 " That is certainly not the case in our part of 
 the world. We are rural in the good old hum- 
 drum style ; but I should hardly suppose you
 
 152 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 would know our neighbourhood," and Arnold 
 told him where it was. 
 
 " No ; that's rather out of my beat ; the 
 Tubas awakening blast is scarcely likely to pene- 
 trate to such a remote corner." 
 
 Cautiously abstaining from pumping the young 
 man much further, he conducted him back to the 
 editorial presence. Arnold's simplicity — which, 
 by the way, he rather overrated — seemed to 
 argue well for the success of the campaign which 
 had been so lately developed in the bookshop at 
 Copesbury. The chief obstacle in the way of its 
 fulfilment was the evident intimacy between its 
 projected victim and Paston ; and Edwards knew 
 the doctor well enough to feel that this circum- 
 stance was an unlucky factor in the business. 
 
 " It's a devilish happy coincidence, though," 
 he mused, " my meeting them together here. I 
 know now who my enemies are, and I must be 
 careful not to show myself to them anywhere 
 near Oakleigh. I could turn this young fool 
 round my finger if he were alone. As he isn't, 
 we must keep things darker than ever." 
 
 Lunch was the next thing on the tapis, and 
 they all went to have it together at an adjoining 
 restaurant. Bloss told them how he had gone 
 over to Ireland early in life, and become con- 
 nected with a small provincial paper over there. 
 A bottle of port made him wax communicative,
 
 'SWEETNESS AND LIGHT.' 153 
 
 and lie described his rapid rise to the post of 
 editor. 
 
 " Home rule was the ticket, you know," said 
 he, favouring the company to a comprehensive 
 wink ; " and it wasn't until I persuaded the 
 governor to sell the property, and start here in 
 London, that 1 ripened into the fine old Tory 
 you see me. Alliterative epithets are as good a 
 stock-in-trade on one side as the other, and I 
 shouldn't be surprised if you see me some day 
 come forw^ard in the cause of the immaculate 
 democracy, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 "Take care I don't expose you," said the 
 doctor ; '' such tampering with my cherished 
 convictions would justify me in killing you ofi 
 early when I get the chance." 
 
 Bloss laughed. "Not if I make you taste 
 your prescriptions first, doctor. The only thing 
 we w^ant now," he proceeded, " is a good libel 
 case. Perhaps next year we shall be well able 
 to afford it, and then I shall try to persuade 
 the governor ; eh, Mac ? We must move heaven 
 and earth to give you a little commission of that 
 sort. Among all the list of pufi*s extraordinary 
 there's nothing like it. Remunerative ? don't 
 mention it." 
 
 What would our pious ancestors have thought 
 of the priesthood of journalism as exemplified by 
 Mr. Bloss ? The pastor appointed by the State
 
 154 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 has been .said to be unable to deal effectually 
 with spiritual needs ; but what of his substitute, 
 the ' able editor ' ? Is there no cant or gabble, 
 no trace of va,gueness or fatuity, in the gospel 
 which he delivers to the respectable and self- 
 satisfied ? 
 
 Arnold had to keep an appointment with his 
 solicitor that afternoon ; so leaving Paston to go 
 his rounds, he set off for the City with a light 
 step, expressive of his relief at being at length 
 rid of his late companions. Arrived at his 
 destination, a clerk from the dingy outer office 
 showed him at once into a snug room, turkey- 
 carpeted, and adorned with engravings of legal 
 luminaries surmounting pigeon-holes and deed- 
 boxes. Here he was warmly greeted by the 
 senior partner of the firm ; who after a few 
 preliminaries proceeded to give him a detailed 
 account of the property of which he stood 
 possessed. 
 
 " You are to be congratulated, Mr. Eobur, on 
 the enviable state of your affairs : " this was the 
 conclusion arrived at by the old gentleman after 
 his review of the administration of the estate by 
 himself and Mr. Dalton. 
 
 "Every year the value of land is more and 
 more depreciated ; but you will not be touched 
 directly by that, since only a small fraction of 
 your income is derived from that source. The
 
 'sweetness and light.' 155 
 
 rest depends upon the very soundest securities 
 to be had in the market ; and your real estate 
 is not only of manageable extent, but comes to 
 you free from every sort of encumbrance." 
 
 Arnold thanked him heartily for the way in 
 which he had performed his stewardship, and 
 declined to look at the inventories of furniture 
 and valuables, merely asking that they might be 
 despatched to him at Oakleigh. 
 
 " Your mother s jewels are at the bank," said 
 the senior partner. "At her death we checked 
 them off by a list which we found inside the lid 
 of the case. I grieve to say that a certain ring, 
 minutely described in the list, was missing, and 
 we have never been able to trace the suspicion 
 of its theft home to any one. It was the first 
 present ever given to her by your father, and 
 was the token of their engagement. I believe 
 it was a sort of heirloom in his family, and 
 seems to have been rather a valuable specimen 
 of mediaeval jewellery." 
 
 " I think I remember it," replied Arnold. '' A 
 gold ring of massive workmanship, with a great 
 boss set with some large stone. It was so 
 big that my mother used to wear it with a 
 guard." 
 
 " Yes, it was a man's ring. The stone was a 
 heart-shaped sapphire ; and the boss you speak 
 of was richly enamelled with crimson. There
 
 156 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 was a motto inside, if I remember rightly ; 
 Amor rex et lexT 
 
 " Very likely ; I was too young to notice 
 that, but I could recognise the ring anywhere. 
 So the guard has disappeared with it ? '' 
 
 " I suppose so ; probably it was not of suffi- 
 cient value to be mentioned separately. The 
 loss is quite unaccountable ; why something 
 more modern and less valuable for its associa- 
 tions wasn't taken is a mystery to me. It is 
 most annoying that your general satisfaction 
 should have to be marred in this way ; but 
 you see it happened before the property came 
 under our control, and we have kept our own 
 counsel about it since." 
 
 Arnold hastened to relieve his kind friend of 
 any anxiety as to his reception of the disclosure, 
 and begged him to trouble his head no more 
 about the matter. Nevertheless he was consider- 
 ably exercised in his own mind, and thought of 
 nothing else all the way back to Wimpole Street. 
 He was convinced that neither Mrs. Marchpane 
 nor Gibbins knew anything about the sparkling 
 toy which he used to play with on his mother's 
 knee. Those honest souls would have told him 
 long ago if they had ever had a doubt of the 
 trinket being in safe and responsible hands. It 
 was probable, moreover, that Joshua did not 
 even know of its existence. Under the cir-
 
 * SWEETNESS AND LIGHT.' 157 
 
 cumstances lie resolved to say nothing about 
 the ring at home ; it would only make his faith- 
 ful old dependants miserable to no purpose. 
 Next he considered whether he should make a 
 confidant of Paston. At first he was inclined 
 to do so ; the doctor was just the sort of man 
 to come out with a shrewd suororestion on the 
 
 oo 
 
 subject. Afterwards, however, he reflected that 
 his friend would in all probability suspect the 
 wrong person, there being no data to go upon, — 
 if, indeed, the ring had been stolen at all. Any- 
 how, it was always possible to share the secret in 
 the event of any future occurrence tending to 
 throw light on the question. Arnold's mind was 
 soon made up : in spite of his sceptical bias he 
 was not wanting in decision.
 
 158 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BURNPORT. 
 
 " Silent he went by the sand of the many-thundering ocean." 
 
 "Well," said Paston, when he and Arnold were 
 seated together that evening discussing the state 
 of affairs, " now that you've got your business 
 matters settled, and the brilliant prospect before 
 you of becoming an occasional contributor to a 
 leading weekly, you think fit to go off a- wander- 
 ing again." 
 
 " Excuse me, but I don't," replied Robur. 
 
 " Cantankerous one, you have no sooner come 
 home than you have resolved to clear out again, 
 and I call that wandering : no matter if you do 
 mean finding a rest for the sole of your foot, and 
 stickinof to it. So don't contradict. Personallv, 
 I am of opinion that you are perfectly right. 
 You've been knocking about all over Europe 
 and seeing multitudinous cities of men, — even if
 
 BURNPORT. 159 
 
 you haven't learnt their minds, like the godlike 
 much-enduring one : and you want rest." 
 
 " I do," said Arnold ; " rest of a kind, that is." 
 
 " Precisely : not unmitigated idleness, which 
 deluded mortals have persuaded themselves into 
 regarding as a synonym for the genuine article — 
 instead of being the most wearying, enervating, 
 and generally depressing way of passing the time 
 you can well find. Now it seems to me that to 
 let yourself get bored is about the worst thing 
 you could do in your present frame of mind ; 
 and after the crowd of perpetual novelties you've 
 been getting accustomed to abroad, you would 
 get sick of Oakleigh precious soon. Hunting 
 isn't in your line, and the men who hunt would 
 make your life a burden, I should think." 
 
 Paston himself had never indulged in the 
 delights of the chase, and looked with supreme 
 contempt upon those whose lives, he conceived, 
 were given up to sport. 
 
 " I don't fancy hunting, I own," said Arnold, 
 who was aware that his friend viewed that 
 occupation as he would have viewed vivisection 
 without the justification of scientific advantages 
 to be reaped from it ; " however, the question is, 
 where am I to go ? Consider the requirements 
 youVe been enumerating. It's to be a place 
 where I shan't be bored and can't get over 
 excited."
 
 160 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " Burnport," said the doctor laconically. 
 
 " Burnport — well, what are the merits of that 
 delightful sea- side resort ? " 
 
 " Well, I defy you to get excited there, and if 
 you use your wits you needn't be bored. Where 
 there is sea, you can boat and bathe : and apart 
 from the intrinsic merits of speeding over the 
 unharvested ocean, you'll find some of the sailors 
 excellent and refreshing society if you choose 
 judiciously. It'll do your nerves all the good 
 in the world. Have a weed." 
 
 *' Thanks, I will, having a firm belief that 
 tobacco is the best known cure for nerves." 
 
 "Which nobody can deny," said Paston, "bar- 
 ring a few misguided members of my own pro- 
 fession who I don't believe ever tried for them- 
 selves, and the majority of the other sex, who 
 are jealous because Mrs. Grundy won't let them 
 assist in smoking the pipe of peace. They'd 
 smoke like chimneys if they were allowed, and 
 then they'd give up having hysterics. It is even 
 possible that they w^ould become logical, though 
 that," quoth this misogynist, " is rather too much 
 to hope for. Go to Burnport, bathe, take exercise, 
 make some acquaintances if you can, and take 
 your pipe thoughtfully, as the immortal bard 
 recommends. And with the Taha Mirabilis to 
 back you up, and let off* your superfluous energy 
 on, you'll have got over your troubles in a month
 
 BURNPORT. 161 
 
 — even if your contributions occasionally find an 
 early grave in Mr. Bloss's wastepaper-basket.'' 
 
 " Excellent advice," said Arnold, applying a 
 match to his cigar, " if your diagnosis is correct, 
 Paston. But I don't believe in nerves : I never 
 had any in my life. The fact at the back of my 
 griefs, my friend, is the aimlessness of my present 
 existence, and till I find some sort of aim, I don't 
 believe I shall be cured of my eternal introspec- 
 tion and worrying. Perhaps I shall find one 
 some day ; anyhow, we'll see what Burnport can 
 do towards providing something ; and at least it 
 ought to take me out of myself for a bit. Your 
 tonic shall have a fair trial, at any rate. I had 
 Burnport in my mind more or less before you 
 suggested it. Do you know anything of the 
 hotels there 1 " 
 
 " Lots," said Paston ; and he proceeded to 
 give his friend sundry pieces of advice as to 
 the satisfactory management of matters at his 
 seaside abode. 
 
 So it was settled. Arnold returned to Oakleiorh 
 next day, to make such small preparations as were 
 needed before a more lengthened absence : and 
 disregarding Mrs. Marchpane's head-shakings at 
 what she viewed as mere love of wanderins: 
 on his part, went off to Burnport, leaving the 
 care of his property to " rest upon " the shoulders 
 of the honest Gibbins. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 AENOLD EOBUR. 
 
 We English, perhaps merely because we owe 
 everything to it, generally look upon the sea as 
 the emblem of that freedom w^hich we have 
 always set before us as a national ideal. The 
 love of both, we like to think, is our birthright 
 as aofainst all other nations, so that we alone 
 can understand fully the triumphant cry of the 
 wandering Greeks when they saw the Euxine 
 spread out before them. Be that as it may, 
 w^e are all glad to get to the seaside, even that 
 majority to whom actual life on the ocean w^ave 
 w^ould be productive of anything but poetical 
 thoughts or lofty emotions. For on shore we 
 can contemplate the waves without the actual 
 physical discomfort and insecurity ; and there 
 are few grander sights than a calm sea, except 
 a stormy one. To stand and watch the breakers 
 rolling in, ' one crowd, but with many a crest,' 
 each like yet each unlike the last, rising in the 
 distance into a hissing point of foam which it 
 leaves behind, as it slides silent and unerring 
 from beneath it, then seeming to tower higher 
 than ever till it bursts in thunder, all white now, 
 and hurls its masses high into the air above the 
 grey cliff, and then draws back with a dying 
 moan and loses itself in its successor — this is a 
 sisht not soon to be tired of. But it is scarcely, 
 less splendid when sudden squalls are darkening 
 it here and there w^ith an ominous ripple, or
 
 BURNPORT. 1G3 
 
 when it rests undisturbed, and only the slow 
 heaving remains to tell that there is still a 
 life there to be roused to the same wild fury. 
 
 It was in this last mood, sleeping in quiet grey 
 under the misty sky of November, that Arnold 
 saw it when he reached his destination, and, after 
 arranging matters at his hotel, strolled along 
 the bay in the direction of the old town. At that 
 season there are few visitors to Burnport, so that 
 there was no fashionable crowd on the Parade, 
 no bright colours in the shop-windows ; but 
 down here on the beach there was now and 
 again a group of childreu, finding all the delight 
 that children do in piling huge castles for the 
 waves to engulf and obliterate, in hunting out 
 the coy anemone from his little pool in the 
 rocks, or in the simpler but more adventurous 
 pleasure of standing just where the waves wash 
 up and running away with a scream of triumph 
 in time to escape dryshod, or of yet more frantic 
 ecstacy if they were just too late, and a larger 
 wave than usual washed over their boots while 
 the careless nursemaid's eyes were turned away, 
 fixed on the manly form of some dallying com- 
 panion. Farther on a group of donkey boys 
 were very anxious that Arnold should indulge 
 in quasi-equestrian exercises, and each was at 
 great pains to recommend the superior excel- 
 lence of his animal, though there was not the 
 
 M 2
 
 164 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 slightest chance of any of them being put in 
 requisition ; and at another point was a line of 
 boats whose owners were equally emulous of the 
 honour of taking him out for a sail. But Arnold 
 was not to be tempted on this occasion, although 
 he had nothing to do, and the air was mild — for 
 the time of year at least. There was indeed 
 scarcely enough wind for sailing, and the sun was 
 quickly approaching the headland that shut in 
 the bay on the west : and Arnold wished to see 
 something of the place with such daylight as 
 was left him. So he turned a deaf ear to the 
 Sirens in oilskin, and sauntered on at his leisure 
 till he reached the quay in the old town. 
 
 Burnport, like many of our modern watering- 
 places, is a combination of two towns, the old 
 and the new. The new town is the fashionable 
 end, a modern collection of glaring white houses 
 and hotels, whose population fluctuates with the 
 seasons. Here is a parade, in summer gay with 
 colour and resounding with those curses of our 
 days, the brass band and the piano-organ, and 
 occasionally the nigger-minstrels' bones. Here 
 are innumerable lodging-houses, carriages and 
 perambulators, and plate-glass windowed shops 
 aflare with gas at night. And the dust and the 
 noise and the glare and the heat are just w^hat 
 seem to attract most people to the place — though 
 whatever the charms of these qualities, it must
 
 BURNPORT. 165 
 
 always surprise those who ha23pen to dislike 
 them that they should be deemed requisite for 
 relaxation, or even compatible with the peace 
 and quietness which might be thought desirable 
 in a holiday retreat. Out of the season Burnport 
 is a very different place, and can hardly be found 
 fault with on the ground of overliveliness : yet, 
 strange to say, people have been found to prefer 
 it at such times. 
 
 The old town is quite different in character : 
 a jumble of red-roofed houses, all old and many 
 ruinous, climbing up the hill-side, no two alike, 
 or rather without arrangement, in narrow, crooked 
 streets. In short, it was picturesque ; and like 
 most picturesque things is well worth a visit, 
 provided the visitor has not too keen and delicate 
 a sense of smell. For the narrow streets afore- 
 said are very dirty, and the place simply reeks 
 of fish fresh and stale, and the stale naturally 
 predominates. On the whole it is very quiet 
 at most times, except when the fishing-boats 
 come in and furl their brown patched sails, and 
 discharge their cargoes on the quay. Then 
 there is plenty of life there at least — what with 
 bringing in the boats, getting out the fish, 
 selling, sorting, and packing them. They sell 
 them by Dutch auction at Burnport ; such a 
 sale, thou oil wantino^ in the excitement of keen 
 competition which belongs to the ordinary
 
 166 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 method, has an interest of its own. There is 
 a delightful uncertainty as to your neighbour's 
 intentions — what is the low^est price at which 
 you can be secure of acquiring some lot on 
 which you have set your heart — which, if it 
 were api^lied to sales where the prices are fixed 
 less by market value than by the fancy of the 
 buyer, would sometimes be maddening. But here 
 the purchasers have keen eyes and shrewd faces. 
 They know the worth of their wares and what they 
 will fetch, so that the issue lies between narrow 
 limits of profit. Yet there is a sufficient element 
 of chance to make the quay at such times a 
 lively and entertaining scene. But when the 
 boats are out, or w^ien there is no business beinor 
 done, the old town of Burnport is quiet enough. 
 Dirty children play in the gutters, and the 
 scolding of their shrill-voiced mothers — women 
 in fishing towns have harsher voices than any- 
 where else — alone breaks the silence of the steep 
 paved streets, unless a chance cart rumbles 
 down them behind a heavy clanking horse. 
 Only the artist looks lovingly on the high- 
 pitched, red-tiled roofs, bulging, damp-stained 
 walls, and crazy windows with their little panes 
 patched up with any old rag that comes to 
 hand. They may all be most unpleasant and 
 unwholesome for their inmates, these houses, 
 but they are things of beauty to us, and we
 
 BURNPORT. ^ 167 
 
 should raise a great outcry if such monuments 
 of antiquity were to give way to glaring new 
 yellow-brick cottages with water-tight roofs, 
 and well-fitting window-frames. 
 
 Arnold picked his way slowly up the main 
 street among the decaying refuse that littered 
 it, and the dirty children whose chief object 
 seemed to be to obstruct his steps ; pausing now 
 and then to look at some particularly striking 
 bit of half-ruinous building, or to exchange a 
 few remarks on the weather with some ancient 
 mariner in blue jersey and fur cap, with the 
 bowl of his black clay pipe just protruding 
 upside down from his lips, as he loafed at the 
 door of the low-browed tavern. At last he 
 found himself on the outskirts of the town, close 
 to an old and tumble-down church standing in 
 the midst of a quiet little churchyard with the 
 graves of centuries beneath its rank, ill-kept 
 grass. He made his way in, and looked out 
 from his height over the sea where the twilight 
 was beginning already to settle down. Then 
 he wandered among the graves, many of them 
 simple mounds of nameless earth, others with 
 grey, weather-beaten headstones, from which 
 rain and sun and wind had obliterated all trace 
 of their record : mostly uncared for, and with 
 the nettles and wild weeds springing round and 
 over them. Some few were newer and more
 
 168 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 legible, and most of these bore sad witness to 
 the ravages of winds and waves. Here was one 
 in memory of John Smith who lost his life at 
 sea after braving its terrors till he had passed 
 the threescore and ten years allotted to man's 
 life : perhaps he would have wished it so, rather 
 than to die in his bed. Another recorded the 
 death of a father and two sons — a whole family 
 — in one storm, and so on. Arnold shuddered 
 and turned away from them. The grey Novem- 
 ber evening was becoming chilly now that the 
 sun was gone. A white sea-fog w^as beginning 
 to rise and enfold the heights of the town, and 
 these ' cold Hic-jacets of the dead ' were depress- 
 ing. He was glad to get away from them and 
 restore the warmth to his limbs by marching 
 briskly down the hill again, and back to the 
 cheerful light and heat of his hotel. Arrived 
 there he spent an hour or two in writing some 
 letters, and managed by dinner-time to shake 
 off his low spirits. 
 
 He was rather late of coming in to table 
 d'hote, and addressed himself immediately to 
 his soup. When that was finished he looked 
 round and took stock of the room and its other 
 occupants. There was a melancholy look about 
 the place, for it was a long room intended to 
 accommodate many times the number of guests 
 it at present held ; and consequently only one
 
 BURNPORT. 169 
 
 end of it was fully lighted up, and empty cliairs 
 seen in a dim light are apt to have a ghostly 
 and uncomfortable appearance. However, the 
 small company present w^ere lively enough. At 
 the end of the table was a family — a mother 
 with two daughters and a son, — who were talk- 
 ing and laughing in a way that showed that 
 they at least did not find Burnport altogether 
 dull. The mother was an active, energetic, 
 almost masculine-looking woman, with steady 
 black eyes and a firm mouth. The children 
 were all very like her, with the same black hair 
 and eyes ; but they none of them had her look 
 of strength. Indeed the boy and one of the 
 girls, who were extremely like one another, and 
 might be sixteen and seventeen years old, had 
 clear-cut features and a transparent, colourless 
 complexion wdiich spoke of anything but robust 
 health, though in the girl they produced con- 
 siderable beauty of a certain order. Not far 
 from them were two maiden ladies of un- 
 certain age, who always seemed to have plenty 
 of gossip to communicate to each other, though 
 they did not look as if their conversation would 
 have very much interest for a third party. As 
 Arnold was criticisinof these and the few other 
 men and wonlen who made up the party, his 
 next neighbour turned on him an afi'able smile, 
 and a pair of corkscrew ringlets surmounted by
 
 170 AENOLD ROBUE. 
 
 a nodding erection of lace and ribbons, which 
 may be left for the feminine imagioation more 
 fully to picture. 
 
 " You're a new arrival at Burnport, I think," 
 she said slowly, in a high-pitched and somewhat 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 "A 'dear old thing,'" thought Arnold. 
 '' Yes," he said aloud, " I only came here to- 
 day." 
 
 '' Indeed ! I'm afraid you are likely to find it 
 rather dull." 
 
 Arnold laughed. " I was just thinking," he 
 said, " that people seemed to be able to find a 
 good deal of amusement in it, though I didn't 
 expect much when I came here." 
 
 " Oh yes ! " and the ' dear old thing ' nodded 
 two or three times, making her grey ringlets 
 shake and those wonderful lilac ribbons in her 
 cap wave to and fro. " There is plenty of 
 amusement for old people who can take it 
 quietly, you know. But we don't often have 
 young men like you here at this time of year ; 
 I suppose they hardly know what to do with 
 themselves. It's apt to be so cold at this 
 season, you know, though this year we certainly 
 have had wonderful weather — quite wonderful ! 
 So warm and nice ! " 
 
 " You speak as if you knew the place well," 
 said Arnold.
 
 BURXPORT. 171 
 
 " Ob yes, I often come here, I'm very fond of 
 Burnport ; it's such a nice, quiet place out of 
 the season. And one gets to know so many 
 people here, and they're such a superior class, 
 you know. I know the clergyman of the parish 
 very well ; he's such a dear old man, and 
 preaches so nicely. You really should hear 
 him. Do you stay here long ? " 
 
 " Some time, I expect," said Arnold. 
 
 ''You see," said the old lady, "my doctor 
 always advises me to come here — perhaps that's 
 because he knows I'm so fond of it, though. I 
 suffer terribly from gout, you know ; but I 
 never feel it here. Do you know," she con- 
 tinued, '• I don't know why it is, but all the 
 doctors are recommending whisky for gout now. 
 I always take a little of it at dinner now, and I 
 find it does me all the good in the world." 
 
 Arnold smxiled, and could not help wondering 
 maliciously whether there w^as the same reason 
 for this recommendation — that the doctors knew 
 their patients were so fond of it. However, he felt 
 that in this case the suggestion was uncalled for. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, changing the subject, 
 after a pause, "there is plenty of boating and 
 fishing to be had here ? I saw a lot of unused 
 sailing boats dow^n on the shore to-day, and 
 there were men loafing about, and very anxious 
 that I should take a sail."
 
 172 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " Oh yes, if you're a good sailor and all that 
 sort of thing, and don't mind a little tossing 
 about, you know — for you who are young and 
 strong it doesn't matter ; but we dou't always 
 have such fine weather as this, and the sea is 
 very rough sometimes at this time of year. I 
 never go on the sea myself; there are so many 
 many pretty walks all round here, and quite in 
 reach. Of course it's not as nice as it is in 
 summer for that ; but I can always find plenty 
 to see." 
 
 " You don't tire of taking the same walk 
 always?" said Arnold. "Don't you ever feel 
 that you would like a little variety ? " 
 
 The old lady laughed and shook her head 
 again, making the corkscrew ringlets and lilac 
 ribbons bob up and down as if they appreciated 
 and joined in her amusement. 
 
 '•' Oh dear no ! " she said, " when you've lived 
 as long as I have you'll find the old things that 
 you've seen all your life the most eutertaining. 
 It's only young folks like you that are always 
 in want of some new experience. We old people 
 know that there's nothing so new as the old 
 things. I should be quite happy with one walk 
 all the rest of my days, if it was a pretty one." 
 
 It was Arnold's turn to laugh now^ *' That 
 sounds very philosophical," he said. But he 
 felt that there was such a thino^ as havino; too
 
 BURNPOET. 173 
 
 much of novelty, and envied the peaceful habit 
 of mind which was free from the cravinor he 
 himself felt for change and variety. 
 
 " Of course," continued the old lady, " it's 
 quite right to get as much enjoyment out of 
 life as you can, while you're young and strong, 
 and can enjoy it. But when you can't get 
 about easily, and must take things quietly, it's 
 a great blessing, as you'll find some day, to be 
 able to put up with it, and be just as happy 
 after all. It makes it so easy to trust in 
 Providence." 
 
 Arnold thought to himself rather bitterly that 
 ' Providence ' grenerallv means ' Providence for 
 me.' Why should the comparison of a mass of 
 misery with a few grains of happiness induce a 
 greater trust in Providence, unless because every 
 man is to himself the centre of the universe ? 
 However, he kept his thoughts to himself, 
 farther reflecting that this old lady really had 
 a Providence to be thankful to, if it was nothing 
 but her own contented spirit. When she began 
 talking to him he had been merely amused at 
 her quaint appearance and way of talking ; but 
 afterwards, as he lit his cio*ar in the smokingj- 
 room, he bethought him of those probably very 
 self-satisfied and Pharisaical persons who came 
 to scofi" and remained to pray. And he felt 
 that he had learned one lesson that eveninor. 
 
 o
 
 174 AKXOLD KOBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EAST RISE. 
 
 " From women's eyes this doctrine I derive : 
 They sparkle still the right Promethean lire ; 
 They are the books, the arts, the Academes 
 That shoWj contain, and nourish all the world." 
 
 Luvs's Labour s Lost. 
 
 A MAN who has no eye for beauty is neces- 
 sarily uncouth, be he never so crammed with the 
 learning of abstract sciences and books. AVe are 
 accustomed to regard with abhorrence the con- 
 duct of the rustic who, when his path was crossed 
 by a harmless, necessary toad, expressed his 
 unreasoning spite against Nature's handiwork 
 by taking a clumsy jump into the air and com- 
 ing down hobnailed on the hapless oflfender, with 
 the remark, " I'll larn thee to be a twoail." The 
 contempt bred by familiarity with such objects 
 in his case is probably too outrageous not to 
 sicken any one but an agricultural hind ; but it 
 is scarcely ' contrary to experience ' that quite
 
 EAST RISE. 175 
 
 cultured persons should display an indifference 
 only less brutal. 
 
 Arnold hated what he called, perhaps a little 
 unjustly, the ' natural science spirit ' with a 
 Vatinian hatred. When he admired a thing, a 
 landscape, a picture, or a poem, he did not wish 
 to be forced to analyse the feeling down to the 
 elements which composed it. In the case of 
 artistic workmanship it doubtless contributes to 
 the enjoyment of the effect to know to some 
 extent how it is produced. But even that 
 knowledge would be dearly bought at the price 
 of being unintermittently conscious of the me- 
 chanism underneath, the metallic pulse that 
 beats inside the greatest of human creations, 
 preventing them from seeming aught but life-like 
 counterfeits, only to be called alive by some 
 magnificent hyperbole. 
 
 The society of people imbued with such a 
 spirit always worked a speedy reaction in Eobur, 
 and made him long for countrified simplicity 
 with all its faults. At any rate Nature, wide 
 ruling through the empire of earth and sea and 
 sky, the Universal Mother who embraces tiny 
 man, and is not embraced of him, — She cannot 
 be explained away on the leather-and-prunella 
 hypothesis. So thought our hero as he strolled 
 dow^n to the beach for a sail. Few amusements 
 had so much charm for him as this newly
 
 176 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 discovered occupation. He was an excellent sailor, 
 and under the experienced tuition of an ancient 
 mariner, was fast learning the secrets of tacking 
 skilfully, and so to manage the little craft which 
 he had hired, as to keep clear of the dangers of 
 that coast. 
 
 On this particular morning there was a con- 
 siderable wind blowing, quite enough, in fact, to 
 fill a good-sized hat, if it belonged to a landsman. 
 The sea was running high, so the crew gave up 
 all thoughts of fishing that day. Now flying 
 cheerily before the wind, which all the while 
 pursued unmercifully, now breasting the waves 
 almost in its teeth, they drank in the brave 
 blast through all their pores, until very hunger 
 compelled them to put back to shore. Arnold 
 was the only pleasure-seeker who had ventured 
 to mock Father Neptune's rough mood, and as 
 they neared the landing a small crowd began to 
 collect on the edge of the parade above to watch 
 them disembark. 
 
 " Look alive, mates," shouted the old salt from 
 the bows, as he threw the coil of rope to his 
 confederates in the surf. 
 
 Just at this moment Arnold, whose eyes had 
 wandered to the knot of spectators, caught sight 
 of a face looking straight at him which produced 
 in him so sudden and exquisite a thrill that he 
 immediately forgot what he was doiug ; though
 
 EAST RISE. 177 
 
 lie should have been ready to jump mto the 
 water to haul the vessel up. But the boat 
 settled that for him as she grounded, by tumbling 
 him overboard unceremoniously, to the huge 
 delight of the spectators. However, he scrambled 
 ashore, laughing and dripping ; but none the 
 worse. 
 
 His first thoug-ht was to look for the uncon- 
 
 o 
 
 scions cause of his ducking. There she stood, a 
 little apart from the others, evidently a good 
 deal amused at the incident, to judge from the 
 smile which parted her lips. Arnold looked at 
 the tall, firm figure with its fresh glory of grace 
 and strength, the plain black dress, the glow of 
 health in the delicate cheek. 
 
 "What a picture ! " he mused. '' How I wish 
 I were a real sailor, and not a land-lubbering 
 amateur ! A jolly day's work on the briny, and 
 then to come home and lay the nets and lobster- 
 pots at the feet of a lass like that. But I'm a 
 fool, and she's an empress." 
 
 So he wiped the salt out of his eyes, and 
 ios^o^ed back to the hotel hummins^ the " three 
 fishers," and carrying his heavy clothes with a 
 lio-ht heart. 
 
 If one wants to see much of a particular per- 
 son, it is remarkable with what frequency the 
 desire is accomplished. Whether by accident or 
 premeditation, it is certain that scarcely a day 
 
 VOL. I. N-
 
 178 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 passed without giving x\rnold a glimpse of the 
 
 charmer before whom he had made so undignified 
 
 a first appearance. There is reason to believe, 
 
 however, that he was not wholly guiltless in the 
 
 matter, as his devotion to the sea-wall and parade 
 
 began immediately after breakfast, 'and lasted 
 
 unremittingly till evening. Such vigilance could 
 
 not remain long unrewarded, and the young 
 
 lady's admirer soon made a few idle discoveries 
 
 about her, without obtruding himself upon her 
 
 attention, or in any way putting her modesty to 
 
 the blush. Though he abstained from enshrining 
 
 the merits of her locks and eyebrows within the 
 
 severe technical compass of sonnet or ode, it was 
 
 not from any unworthiness in the subject. The 
 
 hair that escaped beneath the simple hat she 
 
 wore was in colour of that happy mean — scarcely 
 
 to be called golden-^ which lies between auburn 
 
 on the one hand and flaxen on the other, and is 
 
 very distinct from either ; a complexion similar 
 
 to that which may be supposed to have prevailed 
 
 among the Teuton hordes whose bodies fertilised 
 
 the plain of Aix. For the maid's eyebrows 
 
 bounteous Nature had used a slightly darker 
 
 shade, and set them to grace eyes grey as those 
 
 of the Olympian spouse of Zeus ; eyes at once 
 
 keen and tender, capable of taking the colour 
 
 from whatsoever object they rested upon and 
 
 felt with, yet not so as to abdicate their own
 
 EAST RISE. 171) 
 
 imperial originality. She was never alone, but 
 Arnold hardly noticed her companions — friends, 
 perhaps, or servants. Sometimes she was accom- 
 panied besides by two well-trained but frolicsome 
 fox-terriers. Whenever he passed her she was 
 always chatting eagerly, and was evidently full 
 of energy and humour. A sketching portfolio 
 would not nnfrequently appear under her arm, 
 and Arnold concluded from this that she attended 
 the School of Art, a flourishing institution at 
 Burnport. An active gait, with rather a long 
 step for a woman, gave her an air of purpose, so 
 difl"erent from the desultory loiter and invalidism 
 of other individuals of her own sex and age, and 
 crowned her attractions. 
 
 It is a hard thing to have to say, but from all 
 this sweet wholesomeness and common-sense 
 Arnold inferred that she had lost her mother 
 early in life ; and the supposition was supported 
 by the quiet black dress which she invariably 
 wore. Maternal influence cannot be overrated, 
 and it is just for this reason that when it is bad 
 it is so hopelessly pernicious. From the day 
 when Eebekah tampered with her son Jacob how 
 often has not the injunction, *'Now, therefore, 
 my son, obey my voice according to that which 
 I command thee," brought misery to the children 
 who have been forced to comply with it ? And 
 yet in modern times, at least, the evil influence 
 
 N 2
 
 180 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 of tlie mother with the sons is almost beneficial 
 compared to its effects upon the daughters. 
 Their position of tutelage is not so soon, if ever, 
 impaired as it now is in the case of their brothers ; 
 they depend almost entirely upon their mother, 
 who in nine cases out of ten must be positively 
 unfit to discharge her responsibility. The proper 
 performance of the most difficult of social functions 
 is not a matter of instinct, even if the flighty 
 matrons who carelessly undertake it could lay 
 claim to any useful development of that faculty. 
 AVild and exuberant affection is common to all 
 animals who are parents, and is a pretty sight 
 enough ; but is there to be no difl'erence in its 
 manifestation between the cat and the cat's 
 mistress ? What is the period of engagement 
 between a young couple for ? It cannot be to 
 prepare for the mere procreation of offspring and 
 subsequent maintenance of their bodily tempera- 
 ture ; that is mainly a question of pounds, shillings, 
 and pence. And yet the sweethearts can think 
 of nothing but themselves for months, or even 
 years, before they are finally wedded. The union 
 which is to call new generations of human souls 
 into existence is seldom sanctified by the least 
 forethought for the happiness of a potential 
 progeny whose being is so often at the mercy 
 of the parents' whim. The man has no time to 
 think of such things, he must work for his liveli-
 
 EAST RISE. 181 
 
 hood ; the maid has become wedded to her 
 mother's teachino- and traditions before she is 
 allowed to receive the addresses of a man, and 
 she is powerless to unmake herself when the 
 troth is plighted. 
 
 This is not the worship of sacred Love, but a 
 grovelling affectation, a gross faith in fabricated 
 allurements for entrapping wealthy lovers, a 
 superstition of tight-lacing, which cramps the 
 soul not less than its casket, before the novice 
 may be initiated, and take part in the rites of 
 " the Moloch of maternal vanity." May the 
 swindled votaries of that gloomy creed be treated 
 to stale denunciations of their practises at the 
 hands of authors and moralists till the error is 
 confessed, and Pudicitia returns to earth. 
 
 Arnold gave himself up completely to the 
 fascination of this fair young creature, but he did 
 not run risk of embarrassment by following her 
 about. Thus he remained voluntarily ignorant 
 of where she lived, and consulted no list for the 
 purpose of ascertaining her name. From the 
 circumstance of the Art School, as well as from 
 other slight indications, he judged her to be a 
 resident in the place, or at least to be making a 
 prolonged stay at Burnport. It was pleasant to 
 see her about ; and he allowed what must be 
 nothingr but a transient vision of deli2:ht to 
 entwine itself with a too obstinate intricacy in
 
 182 ARNOLD ROBUE. 
 
 the texttire of his life during those brief days. 
 After all, was he not soon to return to Oakleigh, 
 and go on living in the old way among the folks 
 at home ? The thought troubled him whenever 
 it arose; but he put it away with blind deter- 
 mination, resolved to enjoy the spell while it 
 lasted at all costs. 
 
 He had received a letter from Mr. Dalton soon 
 after his arrival at the seaside, but had put it in 
 his pocket without much heeding the contents. 
 One day, however, he suddenly remembered that 
 it had asked him to call upon two maiden ladies 
 who lived at Burnport, and with whom Grace 
 had gone to school at Brighton in former years. 
 He found the letter again, and read it over. The 
 Misses Blunsden, it seemed, had retired from 
 their profession, and were now living at their 
 ease on the little portion they had scraped to- 
 gether for themselves. They had taken a house 
 in another watering-place, not being able to tear 
 themselves from the sea which had grown to 
 form part of their idea of home. Mr. Dalton 
 added that he had written to acquaint them with 
 the proximity of his old ward, and was sure that 
 they would pay him every attention if he would 
 compliment them by a visit. " They seem to be 
 a very estimable pair of old ladies, and Grace was 
 very fond of them," he concluded. 
 
 " Heigh-ho," sighed Arnold, as he folded up
 
 EAST RISE. 183 
 
 the letter ; " my guardian angel in spectacles and 
 a black coat has not lost his hold upon me yet, I 
 see. I'll go and accept the worst these old ladies 
 can do for me this afternoon." 
 
 East Rise was the name of a gentle ascent at 
 right angles to the parade. The houses built at 
 intervals upon this slope looked as if they were 
 climbing up-stairs in order to get a good view of 
 the sea over each other's heads. The wand of 
 some enchanter having defeated this project by 
 turning them to stone or stucco wdiere they stood, 
 they all had to make the best of it, and remain 
 contented with their present situations, though 
 only a few had reached the coveted altitude. A 
 similar eminence opposite was called West Rise, 
 and between them was a little glen which had 
 been converted into a public garden accessible 
 from the roads on each side by rude steps and a 
 steep path. AYhere the roads joined at either 
 end, and became one, there were other entrances 
 more worthy the dignity of a municipal pleasure- 
 ground. It was tastefully laid out, the turf 
 being carefully fenced in to prevent it from 
 being downtrodden and spoiled ; the pond with its 
 water-lilies, and little colony of ducks and swans, — 
 quite a miniature Serpentine — was also protected 
 with railings. The place was so sheltered that a 
 good many flowers were blooming even at that 
 season ; there were shrubberies, and summer-
 
 184 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 houses, a:ncl retired corners provided with seats, 
 not to mention an old-fashioned yew maze at the 
 farther end up the hill The single row of houses 
 on each side would have had an uninterrupted 
 view of each other as well as the garden below, 
 had it not been for the trees which shot up into 
 the air from the banks, forming a sufficient 
 barrier between East and West, in spite of their 
 denuded state. 
 
 Arnold learned upon inquiry that Miss Bluns- 
 den and her sister inhabited a picturesque little 
 house near the summit of East Kise, and he 
 delayed no longer to make himself acquainted 
 with its interior. 
 
 Both ladies were in the drawing-room, and 
 rose to meet him. One of them who was rather 
 tall and gaunt, and looked the elder, though she 
 was not so in reality, had been reading the paper 
 aloud, and still wore a somewhat masculine pair 
 of eye-glasses on the end of her nose. The other 
 had a frame of embroidery on a small table in 
 front of her, and was evidently engaged upon 
 some matter of ecclesiastical drapery. 
 
 She had a smooth, un wrinkled face, and her 
 smile of greeting disclosed a perfect set of teeth. 
 Arnold thought he had seldom seen so sweet an 
 expression. 
 
 " We are very glad indeed to know you, Mr. 
 Eobur; any friend of our dear Mrs. Dalton
 
 EAST RISE. 185 
 
 would be welcome here, would he not, Joanna 
 dearest?" Miss Blunsden and Mrs. Dalton, though 
 their acquaintance was but slight, had managed 
 evidently to conceive a warm regard for each 
 other. 
 
 The lady to whom appeal was made breathed 
 upon her glasses preparatory to polishing them 
 with her pocket-handkerchief, and replied : " Of 
 course he would, Hilda ; take a seat, Mr. Robur, 
 and tell us all about Grace." 
 
 Arnold willingly complied, pitying that young 
 lady rather for ever having been at the orders of 
 such a Tartar as Miss Joanna appeared to be. 
 They were much interested with all he had to 
 tell them, and frequently interrupted him with 
 all sorts of sharp little questions. Whenever he 
 had occasion to mention Mrs. Dalton's name he 
 observed that it had an effect, though a different 
 one, on both his hearers. Miss Blunsden's smile 
 waxed sweeter, while her sister's evinced a 
 tendency to grimness. He thought of the em- 
 broidery ; it did not seem improbable that Miss 
 Hilda and Mrs. Dalton had found common 
 ground in Church matters. 
 
 " It must be five years since Grace left us," 
 said the elder lady, taking up a skein of silk. 
 *' She was seventeen, and went abroad to finish. 
 She was such a sweet girl, but never very strong ; 
 do you consider her stronger now, Mr. Robur ? "
 
 186 ARNOLD EOBCTR. 
 
 Arnold replied that lie believed she was in the 
 enjoyment of tolerably good health ; he had been 
 away lately, and had not much opportunity of 
 knowing. 
 
 " We have often heard from Grace since she 
 left," said Miss Joanna ; " she was a nice, unruly 
 little thing when she came to us. I suppose she 
 wouldn't care to toss her bonnet into the sea, and 
 try to run in after it now, but she did so almost 
 the first time I took her out at Brighton. ' You 
 must ask your father's consent before you go 
 throwing his money away like that, child,' I 
 remember saying to her. For my part, I like 
 boys and girls to have something a little stronger 
 than water in their veins," she added with a 
 short laugh; ''but Grace got prim and proper 
 afterwards." 
 
 Miss Hilda opened her eyes very wide. " Why, 
 you never breathed a word of it to me, Joanna 
 dearest. I'm positive I never heard about the 
 bonnet till this minute." 
 
 " No doubt," was the dry rejoinder ; '' you 
 did not have to take the children out, and there 
 was no occasion to bother you about it. You 
 would have never left off fretting yourself if you 
 had known all your young ladies did when they 
 were out for their walks." 
 
 " Yes," observed the fair embroiderer, after 
 murmuring her surprise at her junior's audacious
 
 EAST RISE. 187 
 
 defiance of j^nnciple in concealing these tilings ; 
 " we are glad to get away from Brighton and 
 settle down in a place where there is less 
 respectability." 
 
 " Good gracious, Hilda ! Surely you don't 
 mean in proportion to the population ? I won't 
 hear Burnport libelled." 
 
 " My dear Joanna, you are a Philistine. Mr. 
 Kobur will understand me, if you cannot. Do 
 not you hate respectability, Mr. Eobur ? " 
 
 " Well — er — that rather depends on what you 
 mean by the word." 
 
 Miss Hilda's questions had a way of making 
 one feel awkward. 
 
 "Exactly," cried she triumphantly; ''I see 
 you fall in with my views entirely. Just so ; I 
 knew you would." 
 
 " If," said Arnold, making an effort to unde- 
 ceive Miss Joanna, " you mean simply honest 
 and unpretending mediocrity, I'm afraid I do 
 not agree with you. But when folks are mediocre, 
 and plume themselves on it, they are apt to 
 become offensive." 
 
 " A good answer," said Miss Joanna, darting 
 a frown at her tranquil sister. The latter smiled 
 composedly. 
 
 " I am glad you can agree with me now, my 
 dear. Mr. Eobur, you don't know what an 
 obligation you've laid upon me in making Joanna
 
 188 ARNOLD EOBUE. 
 
 see the truth of my little remark. If slie ever 
 happens to forget it, I shall remind her that she 
 has herself heard you give me your authority." 
 
 The object of this rebuke was amused, and 
 gave Arnold a sly look as much as to say, " You'll 
 know her soon as well as I do." 
 
 '' Your estate is near the Daltons', isn't it, Mr. 
 Kobur ? Can you get up a strong interest in 
 pigs and poultry, or in competing with your 
 neighbours for having the biggest cattle and 
 cauliflowers ? " 
 
 " Landowning is, indeed, my occupation. Miss 
 Blunsden ; but I hope you won't be hard upon 
 me for saying that, much as I like to see my 
 place full of animals and vegetables, my practical 
 knowledge of such m.atters amounts to just 
 nothinof at all." 
 
 " For shame, Mr. Robur, you must not neglect 
 your duties like that ; I declare it's as bad as 
 being an absentee landlord." 
 
 "Joanna, you dear dreadful Radical, leave 
 poor Mr. Robur alone ; anyone can see, you 
 impetuous creature, that he has not had time yet 
 to look into all these thing^s since he returned to 
 live at his home." 
 
 The fiery Joanna acknowledging that there 
 might be some truth in this. Miss Hilda exhorted 
 Arnold to accept her apology, and went on to 
 observe that a landlord could be a very good
 
 EAST RISE. 189 
 
 man, and yet have interests nearer to his heart 
 than farming. Arnold thanked her for this piece 
 of liberality, and admitted that it was so in his 
 own case ; there were a few tenants on his land, 
 and he was glad to say their wants had not been 
 left entirely without his personal supervision. 
 
 " Not that the condition in which my guardian 
 handed them over to me stood in any need of 
 reform," he added. *' But I thought it well to 
 mingle with them, not having too many com- 
 panions of my own ; and so I know all the 
 families pretty well by this time." 
 
 " Then," said Miss Hilda, beaming upon the 
 young man, " you are fond of the poor, Mr. 
 Robur." 
 
 " No fonder of them than of the rich, as long 
 as there is nothino; as^ainst the latter but their 
 wealth," laughed he. " You see, it was a mere 
 accident that I was throw^n up against them, and 
 there w^as no choice left me in the matter. I am 
 not in the least anxious to divide my property 
 into allotments for the behoof of my poor friends, 
 and content myself with two or three acres of 
 it like the rest. Perhaps that will make you 
 change your blessing into a curse, Miss Blunsden." 
 " It is now my turn to say for shame, Mr. 
 Robur. But I must take the liberty to doubt 
 your sincerity just a little bit. Please don't 
 fidget, Joanna dearest," for that lady seemed
 
 190 AENOLD EOBUE. 
 
 about to relieve her mind. "I am sure you do 
 yourself an injustice," she continued, "when 
 you talk as if you thought the poor did not 
 deserve more consideration from us than the 
 rich. Do you not sympathise with missions in 
 overcrowded towns ? Surely the parish priest 
 ous^ht to be found in humble cottao^es rather 
 than at groanino^ tables in great houses ? " 
 
 "Not if the rich were as numerous as the 
 poor," observed Miss Joanna, with uncompromis- 
 ing gruffness. 
 
 " My dear Joanna, if you can't see the point, 
 pray be quiet," replied her sister with mild 
 superiority. " When vre came here, Mr. Eobur, 
 a great spiritual need for something of the sort 
 had long been felt, but nobody knew how to 
 supply it. The Guild of St. Guthlac has, how- 
 ever, now been formed ; and its members, in 
 consideration, I suppose, of my public services, 
 have elected me as their first Mother Superior. 
 We are all ladies, you know, except the curate, 
 who is chaplain to the Guild. Our object is to 
 try and create some religious enthusiasm among 
 the poor women of our parish, and restore some- 
 thing of that sweet devotion which prompts 
 the lowest classes of the Roman towns on the 
 continent to decorate their churches and homes 
 wdth candles and little paper ornaments at the 
 Feasts."
 
 EAST RISE. 191 
 
 On Arnold inquiring what means were being 
 adopted to furtiier that end, ]\liss Blunsden 
 informed him that the chief instrument in this 
 important reform was at present the art of 
 embroidery. It appeared that the wdiole Guild 
 w^as employed upon a complete set of vestments 
 and hangings, including a variety of changes of 
 raiment that was quite bewildering. The work 
 upon the frame was a design for a single square 
 of the festal altar-cloth w^hicli was to make 
 memorable the anniversary of St. Guthlac's day, 
 and the whole of the succeeding octave. It 
 represented a sort of medallion with the head 
 and shoulders of the saint. Arnold was forced 
 to praise the w^orkmanship, so much of it as was 
 completed ; but in his heart he did not consider 
 the j)ortrait a flattering one, and sincerely hoped 
 that the countenance of the "blessed original" 
 had been less blotchy in life, both for his own 
 happiness and that of his flock. 
 
 " When we have completed all these pious 
 exercises," said the Mother Superior, replacing 
 the tissue-paper over her patron's visage, " we 
 shall of course have to find some other method 
 of feeding souls ; but this w^ill occupy our dili- 
 gent fingers for some time, and no doubt things 
 will be made clear to us as w^e go along." 
 
 iVrnold devoutly hoped they would. It seemed 
 to him that Miss Hilda must spend a considerable
 
 192 AENOLD EOBUR. 
 
 sum per annum upon gratifying her hobby. 
 However, he did not feel called upon to offer a 
 contribution, and soon rose to go. 
 
 " Joanna might like to ask you to take part 
 in her Sunday school while you are here, only 
 she's asleep." Arnold glanced towards the 
 slumbering Joanna, and implored Miss Hilda not 
 to disturb her on his account. But the mischief 
 was done, and the glasses were picked up from 
 the floor, and put on her nose, to enable their 
 owner to have another good look at Arnold as 
 she said good-bye. Apparently she had heard 
 nothing of her sister's hint about the school, for 
 she said not a word of it. 
 
 " Let me see," said Miss Hilda, as she gave 
 Arnold her hand, " to-day is Tuesday ; can you 
 dine with us on Thursday evening ? " 
 
 The invitation w^as accepted, and Arnold left 
 the house. 
 
 As he walked down the hill he could not help 
 thinkinof how much more interesting the sisters 
 had been than he expected to find them. The 
 elder one, with her gentle voice and manner 
 softening dow^n her inconsequent argumentative- 
 ness, w^as an agreeable study. He fancied he 
 should like the odd, downright Joanna more, 
 though, w^hen he got to know them better. Her 
 shrewd, crisp way of saying things pleased him, 
 and harmonised with his bent. If we cannot
 
 EAST RISE. 193 
 
 liave both good wine and a good vessel, let us at 
 least have the good wine. Some people think 
 claret tastes better out of a black bottle than 
 when it has been transferred to a cut-glass 
 decanter. Perhaps Arnold was not of that 
 opinion ; but he could be none the worse for 
 being reminded sometimes that divine possibili- 
 ties may be shrouded beneath a matter-of-fact 
 exterior. Moreover, is not beauty a relative and 
 an arbitrary quality ? We can even educate 
 ourselves to admire what we know to be good. 
 *' Beauty fades fast, pigskin will last," says the 
 proverb ; argal, pigskin is not without a beauty 
 of its own, if we could but see it. 
 
 Turning the corner into the parade he found 
 himself to his confusion within a foot of the 
 incarnate refutation of the truisms with which 
 his mind had just been busy. Had a division 
 been taken on the question at that moment, he 
 would have unhesitatingly voted against himself, 
 — himself, that is, as he was while the corner 
 still intervened. So often is the difference be- 
 tween denial and assent a thing of inches, a span, 
 a hairbreadth. 
 
 It was fortunate that he had paid his call that 
 afternoon ; for when he got back he found a 
 letter from Mrs. Dalton inquiring whether he 
 had yet seen " those old darlings, the j\Iiss 
 Blunsdens." He was able to sit down at once, 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 and reply in the affirmative, describing his im- 
 pressions while they were still fresh. This he 
 did with all the circumspection necessary in 
 dealing with his correspondent ; for it is a 
 dangerous thing to commit oneself to a person 
 who never misses the opportunity for an act of 
 imprudence. There was one passage in the letter 
 upon which Arnold was unable to satisfy the 
 lady's curiosity ; it ran thus : — 
 
 " Grace wants to know if they have still got 
 their niece with them ; she was about Grace's 
 own age, I suppose." 
 
 There certainly was a piano in the room, 
 thought Arnold ; but that may very well be 
 nothing but a medium for Miss Hilda's Gre- 
 gorians during esj)ecially severe attacks of ritu- 
 alistic afflatus. No ; he had not noted any 
 conclusive evidence of the existence of a niece 
 in the house on East Rise, nor had the sisters 
 mentioned her, he was sure of that. So he 
 inserted a clause to that effect, and fastened 
 up the envelope for the post. 
 
 A day spent almost entirely without exercise 
 in the open air did not agree with Arnold, and 
 that night he got very little sleep. Once he 
 threw himself out of bed impatiently, and drew 
 back the curtains to look out at the night. The 
 moon was bright enough to read by ; it shone 
 coldly on the deserted beach, and the sails of
 
 EAST RISE. 195 
 
 herrinor-boats scattered here and there in the 
 
 o 
 
 distance. The cold air roused him. " This is 
 bad, very bad," he muttered, as he rushed back 
 to bed, and buried himself under the blankets. 
 After that he fell into a heavy doze, and dreamed 
 that he dined with ^liss Hilda, and Mrs. Dalton 
 was there. Miss Joanna did not sit down to the 
 table, but waited upon the company disguised in 
 a ritualistic tail-coat and shovel hat. The first 
 course consisted of a shoal of herrings, and Miss 
 Hilda insisted on helping him to several dozen 
 at once. They were very fresh, and not thoroughly 
 cooked ; and as they would not proceed with the 
 meal before he had eaten every one, he was forced 
 to gorge silently while the others talked, and was 
 nearly choked by the time his plate was removed. 
 A huge dish made its appearance next upon the 
 table, — Arnold could not see how it got there, — 
 and Mrs. Dalton said, " Xow comes the surprise.*' 
 All efforts to remove the cover were, however, in 
 vain ; and Arnold was standing up and had just 
 begun to tug away at it, the others holding down 
 the dish, when — he awoke. 
 
 2
 
 196 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " Cons I here to meet some lion-beaded fellow, I warrant, with 
 his damned double-barrelled swords and cut-and-tbrust pis- 
 tols ! — Lord bless us, it makes me tremble to think o't! — 
 These be such desperate bloody-minded weapons ! Well, I 
 never could abide 'em — from a child I never could fancy 
 'em ! — I suppose there an't been so merciless a beast in the 
 world as your loaded pistol ! " — The Rivals. 
 
 One morDing the post brought much disquiet to 
 Mrs. Marchpane's tranquil spirit. Not that the 
 plain Burnport postmark on the envelope stood 
 as a decoy for anything of an explosive nature 
 in the contents, but it was clear to Joshua Gibbins 
 when he came in shortly afterwards that some- 
 thing was harassing the good lady's mind, and 
 with characteristic pessimism he instantly pre- 
 pared for the worst. 
 
 ''What do you think I've heard from Mr. 
 Arnold about, Joshua *? " He was right, then ; 
 a month of unmitigated happiness could not 
 go by without some compensating misfortune
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 197 
 
 to show for it. Smothering his natural exulta- 
 tion at having prognosticated events with so 
 much judgment, he replied — ■ 
 
 " Shouldn't be s'prised, now, to hear he'd 
 broke his legs — If it ain't his neck, mum," he 
 added with a brightening aspect, as he saw his 
 mistake. Even the penetrating Gibbins failed 
 to perceive the incongruity of a person with a 
 dislocated medulla oblongata writing to acquaint 
 his housekeeper with the distressing fact. Such 
 is the fallibility of human intellect. 
 
 " La, Joshua, w^hatever made you think of 
 that ? To hear you, a body might think you 
 wished it to happen." 
 
 *' Well, I won't be sayin' as I don't, mum," he 
 rejoined, in a tone of sepulchral resignation. 
 " Somethink's sure to happen to him one o' 
 these days when he's a gally-wantin' about, and 
 enjoyin' of hisself ; and the sooner it comes the 
 sooner mended, says I." 
 
 The old Greek spirit lived again in Joshua 
 Gibbins, though it might seem scarcely recog- 
 nisable at first sight. Overweening success was 
 his bugbear ; and he now felt himself to be in 
 the same predicament as the monarch who had 
 his ring returned to him from the sea into which 
 he had cast it to appease the jealousy of heaven. 
 
 "It does make one feel as though there couldn't 
 be a brighter side nohow," he murmured, in his
 
 198 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 disappointmeDt at learning that Arnold's pros- 
 perity continued as yet undiminished. 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane was half alarmed by his per- 
 sistence. 
 
 " What makes you think anything's going to 
 happen to the dear young gentleman, Joshua ? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 But the seer could only evasively reply to this 
 by remarking, "Well, it keeps going on a-delayin, 
 and delayin', such a time that when it does come 
 I reckon it'll be pretty ^ard to bear, that's all." 
 
 " It isn't much, anyhow," said the house- 
 keeper. " I declare you're just like the man 
 in the Scriptures who was always making honest 
 people uncomfortable by prophesying something 
 unpleasant ; I've no patience with you." 
 
 " I b'lieve it come to pass, mum, jest the same, 
 whether they liked it or not," was the provoking 
 repartee. 
 
 " None the faster for his talking about it, 
 though." Mrs. Marchpane was nettled by his 
 unexpected pugnacity. '' The noosepapers are 
 always saying there's going to be a war some- 
 where or other, — at least, they used to when I 
 read 'em, for I've given 'em up long ago. But 
 catch them telling about the peace and happi- 
 ness that's everywhere ; they don't ever think 
 o' that." 
 
 Mr. Gibbins was understood to deliver himself
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 199 
 
 of the opinion that this was an essentially femi- 
 nine view, though not, it would appear, upon that 
 account a good one. 
 
 " I don't say there's anythink agin 'em," 
 he went on, alluding to the frail sex, " 'cept 
 just one leetle hindiscretion ; they alius want to 
 think favourably o' things, and take 'em on trust. 
 Nat'rally they gets disappinted pretty often." 
 
 "Yes, they do take things on trust, as you 
 say, Joshua ; and bless their hearts for it. I 
 wouldn't be a man to go holding goods up to 
 the liorht, and gettino: 'em as barorains on account 
 of the flaws. Why you ain't content, however 
 cheap you got a thing, if you know it's rubbish." 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane's honour having been satisfied 
 by this attack on the enemy's camp, she imparted 
 the information, by way of changing the subject, 
 that someone was coming from Copesbury to 
 catalogue the books, and that he would probably 
 stay in the house over two or three nights. 
 
 "What's he want with the books, then? 
 Master ain't goin' to sell 'em, sure/y F " 
 
 "Sell them! Whoever talked of selling ? 
 Why, he only wants a list made ovit, so as 
 he may know what he's got from what he 
 hasn't." 
 
 " 'Sorter takin' stock ; eh, mum ? " 
 
 " That's it. And he says you're to look after 
 the man and make him comfortable. He'll smoke
 
 200 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 his pipe with you downstairs of an evening, and 
 he can have that Httle room in the passage up- 
 stairs to sleep in.'' 
 
 *' Eight you are, mum ; I'll attend to the chap, 
 rest upon me." 
 
 Arnold kept no other man-servant in the house, 
 so Gibbins occupied melancholy bachelor quarters 
 in the basement. When offered a cottage he had 
 declined, preferring his two rooms, to which he 
 had grown as much accustomed as the mice in 
 their wainscotes. Many must have been the 
 profound confidences entrusted to these walls 
 by their philosophic tenant ; for Gibbins, though 
 possessed by one idea, had but few words to put 
 it in, and found the chief vent for his wit and 
 wisdom in soliloquising, undisturbed by animate 
 creation. Not that he held each representative 
 of the latter class to be equally untrustworthy. 
 A varying degree of reticence among animals was 
 to him a thing undoubted. He would maintain 
 that the domestic cat carried off the palm in this 
 respect, and that a place could be assigned to 
 every other species on the graduated scale 
 between the feline at "the top and the human 
 at the bottom of the ladder. In this system 
 vermin and insects did not count, being crea- 
 tures simply designed to destroy and be de- 
 stroyed, and without a claim to consideration 
 on any other ground. Still, he could never
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 201 
 
 quite throw off his reserve before even a cat. 
 The real sweets of intimacy were only to be 
 enjoyed in what some silly folks call soli- 
 tude (much they know about it !) between four 
 walls. The companions with ears but no mouths 
 were the ones for him. There was no danger 
 of wearying them with continual repetition, and 
 always harping on the same string ; and this 
 was held by some of his human associates to 
 be not the least of Mr. Gibbins' failings. Walls 
 will vibrate just as cheerfully to the old string 
 as to a new one, — indeed a certain amount of 
 iteration seems necessary to make them vibrate 
 at all sympathetically. Besides, even should 
 they feel surfeited by so much solo music, they 
 are too grave and decorous to show it. 
 
 Descending to his den, Joshua carefully closed 
 the door preparatory to unburdening his mind 
 of a kind of appendix or excursus in further 
 elucidation of the subject which had just received 
 such insufficient ventilation upstairs. 
 
 " I doubt some mischief '11 come o' this 'ere 
 messin' with the books," he grumbled. '' What's 
 a man want a-numberin' of his goods for, I should 
 like to know, till 'e's got to die and leave 'em ? " 
 
 Mr. Gibbins, it will be perceived, considered it 
 to be just as bad to count chickens after they are 
 hatched as before ; or rather, the former operation 
 w^as in his sight the more pernicious of the two.
 
 202 ARNOLD ROBITR. 
 
 Had he been the founder of a sect, his followers 
 would have been free to speculate on possibilities 
 to any extent, so long as they 'dutifully shut 
 their eyes to facts, — a characteristic which 
 generally connects the most opposite sets of 
 opinions. 
 
 Deep in one of those ethical problems which 
 are always recurring to active minds, he went on 
 meditatively. 
 
 " If them books was to be counted wrong, 
 now ; how'd that be ? Seems to me the brig^hter 
 side o' things might come uppermost then, arter 
 all ; " and he rubbed his chin slowly with his 
 coat-sleeve for a minute, pondering the matter. 
 " That's it," he resumed ; brightening as if with 
 tlie result of this inspiring process, " I'll jest go 
 up afore that chap comes, and get one or two o' 
 those books, — little 'uns, you know." (This 
 with a confidential nod towards the listening 
 walls.) " I can stow 'em away safe down here 
 some'ers, and then 'tothers won't count right. 
 Arterwards, when he's gone, back I takes 'em 
 agin, and stuffs 'em in behind the big 'uns, so as 
 nobody won't see no diffrence. Ah, what a 
 thing it is to hev a 'ead to rest upon." Here he 
 shook the appendage in question, and chuckled 
 complacently. " She wouldn't 'a thought o' that, 
 for all she's such a sharp 'un. How I should 
 like to tell her about it, and see what she'd say !
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 203 
 
 But I dursn't do it ; no, no ; why, she might 
 up'n say she fust put it in my head, like ; aye, 
 and prove it too ; that 'ud come easy enough, I 
 lay, with that tongue of hers. No, ] don't want 
 no talk about it ; so onsettling. Else she might 
 d'ny it warn't no use. Well, I know better n 
 that." 
 
 Further introspection seeming to add no fresh 
 result, this honest Jesuit rose to carry out his 
 dark purpose, and it was barely executed before 
 the excellent bookseller, bearing a capacious 
 carpet-bag, made his appearance on the scene. 
 
 No juncture could have been more favourable 
 than that at w^hich he had oflfered his services to 
 Arnold. His letter, stating the time when he 
 would be free to undertake the work, had been 
 forwarded to Burnport, and a reply accepting his 
 offer had arrived from that place only two days 
 before. Upon its receipt he had written imme- 
 diately to Edwards, informing him that all 
 necessity for keeping himself in the background 
 had been providentially removed, as the coast 
 was now clear, and there could be no danger of 
 his being recoornised. 
 
 " Get leave of absence from your governor 
 for a couple of days," he had concluded, " and 
 come down to nose round for yourself. I am 
 to sleep in the house, and you can easily put 
 up within reach at the inn."
 
 204 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 The news was extremely gratifying to his 
 correspondent, and the necessary alterations in 
 Edwards' plans were soon made. He was pre- 
 pared to hear of Arnold's absence, being one of 
 those generally lucky persons for whom Gibbins 
 would have prophesied a calamitous future. 
 Nevertheless he regarded it as a fortunate coin- 
 cidence that he would now be able to see that 
 Rock played him no tricks, for mutual confidence 
 was scarcely a marked feature of their partner- 
 ship, old as it was. He therefore determined to 
 personate the bookseller's assistant by the aid of 
 his oldest clothes, and a second-hand wide-awake, 
 and announced his intention of arriving at Oak- 
 leigh the day after his supposed master had been 
 installed in the library. 
 
 That accomplished diplomatist succeeded at 
 once in making a favourable impression on Mrs. 
 Marchpane. When asked if he preferred to take 
 his meals alone, or in the housekeeper's room 
 in company with its fair occupant and Mr. 
 Gibbins, he begged with the most unaffected 
 politeness to be allowed to accept the latter 
 alternative. 
 
 '' Company, ma'am," he added in a graceful 
 apology, "confers a zest which even the costliest 
 viands can ill afford to lack. I would rather 
 dine at the humblest board with my equals, — for 
 I am but a poor man myself, — than surrounded
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 205 
 
 by solitary grandeur in the glittering palaces of 
 opulent nobility." 
 
 '* So prettily put," thought the simple old 
 lady to whom this grandiloquence was addressed ; 
 "quite free and open, and so gentlemanlike 
 with it all ! " 
 
 And then the repast to which they all three 
 sat down ! Just the same plain, cosy meal that 
 was served every evening in that room ; but it 
 tasted twice as good as usual owing to the con- 
 versation of the new-comer, and lasted twice as 
 long too. Though he seemed to talk the whole 
 time, Mr. Rock managed to get his share of the 
 good things ; in fact he eat as much as the other 
 two put together, for he was able to bolt some- 
 thing every now and then between his sentences, 
 while his hearers' mouths remained empty as 
 well as open through the greater part of his 
 thrilling series of autobiographical sketches. 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane's curiosity regarding the 
 private affairs of great people above her was no 
 less keen than that of many other good folks in 
 her station. It may have been a weakness ; but it 
 was at any rate amiable and disinterested. No 
 one — not even Gibbins in his most jaundiced 
 moments — would have dreamed of calling the 
 simple woman a snob ; — or rather, Gibbins might 
 have done so, for he was completely ignorant 
 what the word meant, and the proportion of such
 
 206 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 words to the rest of his vocabulary was certainly 
 not inconsiderable. Fortunately there are num- 
 bers of men and women who strongly resemble 
 the housekeeper of Oakleigh in the genuine con- 
 cern they feel for matters too high to disturb 
 them at all seriously — matters chronicled with 
 stern bareness of detail in ' Fashionable Intelli- 
 gence ' columns. They are troubled by no desire 
 to ape the performances of a class distinct from 
 themselves, — a temptation reserved almost ex- 
 clusively for the intermediate group in the social 
 system, and having nothing to do with this 
 unpretentious set of people. Nor will we blame 
 them — we who are more sophisticated, and know- 
 how to repress the wonder we really feel, — for 
 their harmless delight in the Court news, their 
 accurate acquaintance with the Christian names 
 in full of each member of the royal family, and 
 their childlike fondness for shows, even to the 
 village wedding or funeral ; for all these things 
 have a significance of their own, and, perhaps, 
 after all, are quite good enough for ordinary flesh 
 and blood. 
 
 Hiram's personal recollections growing more 
 remarkable as the victuals before him disap- 
 peared, Mrs. Marchpane was constrained to lay 
 down her knife and fork and take long breaths at 
 more frequent intervals, so that when the men 
 retired to Gibbins' quarters for a smoke she
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 207 
 
 began to feel that her mental repletion had been 
 attained at considerable expense to her physical 
 needs. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " she exclaimed to Ehoda Dan- 
 drum, " how hungry all this talking do make 
 one. Such an evening as we've had here ; I 
 don^t remember the like of it these twenty year." 
 
 Alone with the taciturn Joshua Mr. Rock pro- 
 ceeded to bait his hook somewhat differently. 
 He was not quite certain of the bailiff, and sat 
 silently puffing in the hope that his phlegmatic 
 host would disclose himself in time. It was 
 pain and grief to him to restrain his rattling 
 tongue, but his wary self-denial triumphed in the 
 end, and restored him once more to his element. 
 
 The habit of spending the greater part of his 
 evenings alone was answerable for a way the 
 bailiff had of closing his eyes when he sat down 
 before the fire, and this again produced, if not 
 slumber, at least strange absence of mind, and 
 oblivion of external circumstances. Thus it was 
 that at the end of half an hour, during which no 
 word had fallen from his guest, he forgot the 
 exceptional nature of the occasion, and was be- 
 trayed into remarking, with the pipe-stem between 
 bis teeth, " Well, she likes a laugh, and she's had 
 it to-night, no mistake." 
 
 Mr. Eock still saying nothing, Joshua fell 
 deeper into the snare, and went on sternly : —
 
 208 ARNOLD ROB [JR. 
 
 *' Now what I says is ' laugh to-day and you'll 
 cry to-morrow ; whereas life '11 go round as 
 smooth as clockwork if so be as you keeps ser'us 
 and takes it quiet and respectable.' Look at me ; 
 'ere hev I bin lyin' in the lap o' luxury, as they 
 say, ever such a time. I sits here in comfort 
 when I'm tired with goin' about the place all 
 day, no hanxieties to hagitate, no hadwersity to 
 shake me up, inardly or otherwise. Why ain't 
 things difF'rent, why am I better off nor most 
 
 men { 
 
 " Because you've got a head on your shoulders, 
 sir," interposed a bland voice at his elbow ; " be- 
 cause you stick to business, and have no time to 
 waste over nonsense ; because it's mighty easy to 
 play the fool, but to become wise is a different 
 matter. No, sir ; wisdom's no joke, don't you 
 l^elieve it," and the speaker nodded and frowned 
 impressively. 
 
 Mr. Gibbins' orbs were extended to their 
 utmost by this time. To hear his thoughts read 
 for him at his own hearth by another person, and 
 that person a stranger, was a novel experience 
 for him. Had the sentiments of this amiable 
 bookseller been less in accordance with his own, 
 he would probably have held his tongue from 
 that moment till bed-time. As it was, however, 
 he instantly detected a warm sympathy between 
 this man and himself, and hailed the discovery
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 209 
 
 with all the eagerness of which he w^as capable. 
 It was all clone in a flash. Like the two lonsf- 
 separated brothers of familiar domestic tragedy 
 they had rushed into each other's arms (meta- 
 phorically speaking) after an identification too 
 sudden to be altos-ether convincino-, and an 
 intimacy of the conjuror's hat description sprang 
 up between them in a moment. 
 
 " The wery thought as was a tryin' to find its 
 w\ay out o' my 'ead, sir," exclaimed the Stoic of 
 Oakleio;h, turning his chair so as to face him of 
 Copesbury. " An' so you really think there's 
 somethink in it yourself ? I don't know as I've 
 ever before found anybody to 'gree with me. 
 Quite a prodgidy I calls it." 
 
 " You surprise me, sir," observed Mr. Eock. 
 " The opinions you have expressed have been 
 held in common by every statesman, philosopher, 
 and divine from the days of Confucius and 
 Ptolemy the Great to the present time." 
 
 " Only think o' that now," said Joshua, look- 
 ing slowly round the room as if in expectation 
 of applause ; " and so Confuser and 'tother chap 
 thought the same as I do, eh ? " 
 
 " They did that, sir ; it w^as their own in- 
 vention. When they died it descended to their 
 successors, and in a manner, I may say, their 
 mantle has fallen upon us." 
 
 This new and striking idea did not penetrate 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 to the seat of Mr. Gibbins' intellect all at once. 
 He sat rubbing his chin for some minutes, the 
 usual sign with him of deep cogitation. 
 
 " No, you don't mean it '{ " he said at last ; 
 but the tone in which the query was put cer- 
 tainly did not imply any doubt. '' Ain't that jest 
 wonderful ? Fancy me a-livin' all alone here, 
 and readin' nothink, unless it might be one o' 
 these 'ere auction, bills 'bout sales o' stock, — me 
 to know as much as they fellers, who I don't 
 know as I ever heard on afore. That 'ere's 
 what the parson 'ud call insp'ration, I s'pose. 
 Well, I know what's the matter with me now, 
 which is more'n I did. This insp'ration's a rare 
 good thing, mister ; as good as a dram o' corjul, 
 and reg'lar warmin' to the witals." 
 
 " Glad to have been the humble instrument 
 of introducing you to it, sir. An auspicious 
 m.oment, this, sir. Allow me to projDose — in a 
 figurative sense — your health ; as the legitimate 
 descendant of Confucius and the Ptolemies — 
 every one of 'em, without an exception — Mr. 
 Gibbins, your health." Hiram smacked his 
 lips, and murmured again '' in a figurative sense, 
 of course." 
 
 " Sir," replied his flattered host, " I looks 
 towards you. Wait a bit." He rose from his 
 chair, and unlocking a cupboard, produced two 
 tumblers and a black bottle. Placing these,
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 211 
 
 together with a jug of water, on the table, he 
 resumed his seat with the remark, " Now then, 
 let's have all that over again, and we'll do it 
 proper this time." 
 
 Mr. Eock after some protestation consenting 
 to repeat his benevolent aspirations on behalf 
 of his new friend's permanent well-being, minus 
 the qualifying expression, each gentleman did 
 his best to prevent the ceremony from remaining 
 a mere empty form, and the tumblers were 
 speedily reduced to that condition instead. The 
 bookseller used his opportunity to discover as 
 much as possible about the state of Arnold's 
 household, the number of his servants, and 
 where they slept. In this quest he was so 
 successful that when he retired for the night 
 it was with the information that the wing in 
 which he was to sleep contained at present no 
 other occupant, and communicated through a 
 door at the end of the passage with an equally 
 deserted floor of bed-rooms, — the principal ones, 
 only used by the master of the house and his 
 friends. 
 
 A cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth 
 when he reached his room, for which, as he 
 reflected with some satisfaction, the favourable 
 opinion he had won from Mrs. Marchpane was 
 doubtless responsible. Probably it was the fire 
 which kept him awake for the next two hours, 
 
 P 2
 
 212 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 for at tlie end of that time lie got off the bed 
 on the outside of which he had been lying, 
 cautiously opened the door, and listened atten- 
 tively for any sound to indicate that some one 
 besides himself was awake and stirring. Then 
 he returned, took a dark lantern out of his bag, 
 lit it, and stole noiselessly out. 
 
 Next morning: Mr. Eock ensconced himself 
 in the library, and commenced operations. 
 About mid-day his assistant, an individual of 
 seedy appearance, came over from Copesbury, 
 it being impossible, — so his master told Mrs. 
 Marchpane, — for anyone to undertake the work 
 alone. " I quite forgot," he went on, '' to 
 mention this in my letter to Mr. Robur ; so I've 
 made arrangements for putting him up at the 
 inn. Perhaps it's the best way on the whole ; 
 for, to tell you the truth, he's not much accus- 
 tomed to good company, and it's better he 
 should have his meals there." Finally it was 
 agreed that lunch should be served to the pair of 
 workers in the library in order that they might 
 be hindered as little as possible ; the assistant 
 to come each morning^ after breakfast and leave 
 
 o 
 
 at nightfall. 
 
 " Well," said Edwards, as soon as there was 
 no danger of being overheard, " what's your 
 report ? I suppose you can say how much is to 
 be got out of this business by now ? "
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. - 213 
 
 " What a hurry you're in," exclaimed the 
 elder treasure - seeker with virtuous surprise. 
 "There's plenty of time to look about, and we 
 must be careful, you know. Besides, the cata- 
 logue must be made out, and we may as well 
 begin upon that at once. First I must have a 
 list of all the books ; will you read out their 
 titles for me to cock down, or shall it be the 
 other way about ? " 
 
 " Rot the catalogue," said the other fiercely. 
 " Don't trifle with me, man ; I can see you've 
 found something out. What is it ? " Then 
 suddenly dropping the bully, and assuming a 
 wheedling tone, he added : " Can't you see, my 
 dear fellow, how awful it is to be tantalised like 
 this?" 
 
 **Your confounded temper will be the ruin 
 of us if you don't look out, Edwards," said Mr. 
 Rock evasively. " But you're right about my 
 having found something out, and I'll tell you 
 what it is ; there's nothing for us to take in the 
 house ; it was a bad shot on our part." 
 
 " Yes, my friend," he continued after a pause, 
 during which the advertising agent's pale face 
 had turned paler still with rage and disappoint- 
 ment ; '' you've taken your little holiday all for 
 nothing, and though you look as if you required 
 a change, this isn't the cheerfullest part of the 
 country to choose for that purpose at this time
 
 214 AEKOLD ROBUE. 
 
 of year. Why don't you follow youDg Eobur's 
 example, and go down to stay with him at 
 Burnport instead of making yourself at home 
 here in his absence ? Suppose he were to turn 
 up here suddenly : you might find it rather 
 difficult to account for yourself," and the notion 
 set its originator off into a prolonged and ex- 
 asperating chuckle. While this lasted his com- 
 rade sat with clenched fists expressive of a 
 desire to hasten the restoration of Mr. Eock's 
 equanimity by the strongest physical iudu ce- 
 ments. Fortunately, however, for that gentle- 
 man's physiognomy he was sufficiently recovered, 
 by the time Edwards' wrath reached boiling- 
 point, to take up again the thread of his discourse. 
 Discarding his bantering tone, he proceeded. 
 
 "Last nif^ht I thougrht it would be as well 
 to reconnoitre a bit, you see. There are very 
 few servants in the house, and they don't sleep 
 near the best rooms ; moreover, everybody turns 
 in at ten. Well, I waited till it was past twelve, 
 and then I slipped on a pair of list slippers, 
 took my bull's-eye, and went to see what I 
 could see. I assure you the careless way in 
 which the doors were left unlocked surprised 
 even me. Some few, to be sure, had been 
 locked ; but the keys had actually been left 
 sticking in them outside. These people don't 
 deserve to have a sins^le valuable left in their
 
 BIBLIOGEAFHY. 215 
 
 possession. Valuables ought to belong only to 
 people who know how to look after them. That 
 was what I thought as I looked at all the doors 
 in the gallery just through the passage where 
 the idiots have put me to sleep. When I'd 
 tried them all, and found there wasn't one more 
 secure than the others, I took each of the rooms 
 singly ; and may I never crack another thing, 
 if there was a single object to be met with that 
 would serve our purpose. Nothing but old 
 timber, my boy ; chairs, tables, wardrobes, four- 
 posters, and such. It's the bloomingest sell 
 I've ever had to swallow. One would have 
 supposed that a place like this, with all its 
 pretensions, would have held something worth 
 looking at, now ; if not strong boxes or safes, 
 at least a jewel-case and a plate -chest or so. 
 Nothing of the sort. The reason they don't 
 lock "up the doors is because there's nothing 
 worth having inside 'em to lock up." 
 
 Edwards smiled incredulously at the manner 
 of tliis conclusion. 
 
 "Pshaw!" he said. "Is that all? You've 
 frightened me for nothing, then. Did you 
 really expect to find something in a strange 
 house by a hurried search at midnight when 
 vou were in a funk of being; disturbed ? " 
 
 "At any rate you seemed to think I should," 
 put in Rock rather morosely.
 
 216 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 ''I! — well, I may have thought you wouhl 
 have been up to some deeper game than that 
 all these hours you've been in the house." 
 
 '•' What was I to do except prowl about, and 
 keep my eyes open, I should like to know ? " 
 
 '' Anyhow, you haven't prowled enough, that's 
 evident. You don't take to this business as 
 kindly as you ought, my good fellow. A long 
 course of shop-keeping and cheating on a small 
 scale has demoralised you, and you've positively 
 unfitted yourself for large transactions. As 
 you seem so fond of prowling you may just 
 prowl again to-night ; only carry your investi- 
 gations a little closer, my respectable trades- 
 man ; observe the lie of things downstairs, look 
 into cupboards and closets when you get the 
 chance, and see if you can't find some door i 
 
 after all which it will require our legitimate f 
 
 weapons to open. I've got all my ' sesames ' .■; 
 
 ready for the job, and don't want to let 'em rust \ 
 
 for want of practice either. Now for this infernal 
 catalogue." 
 
 It was a beautiful illustration for the moralist 
 of the venerable saw "business first, pleasure k 
 
 afterwards " to see this exemplary pair settle I 
 
 down there and then to the distasteful occupation 
 before them, each encouraoinor the other, and 
 rousing his chivalrous emulation to the needful 
 pitch for performing the irksome duty which
 
 BIBLIOGEAPHY. 217 
 
 had been so unselfishly incurred. Thus easily 
 does union achieve its objects, — two fools hand 
 in hand accomplishing what one wise man fails 
 to do. And yet, trite as the remark must have 
 been to our great-grandmothers, people are not 
 ashamed to go on declaring that friendship is 
 an end in itself, and not merely a means ! 
 Don't you see, you irreconcilables, that union 
 can be of no use unless it exists for a purpose ? 
 Union is proverbially strength ; (how refreshing 
 to have a text at hand for the overthrow of an 
 adversary !) Now how could we possibly have 
 ascertained that without an object to which the 
 strength could be applied ? But, in order to 
 show that this view of the question is not a 
 wilfully limited one, no single detached aspect 
 of a particular phase or kind of union, let us 
 take another case, — that of marriage. Here, it 
 is said, there should be no suspicion of any 
 ulterior motive ; love is its own reward, and so 
 forth. Well, is it ? A knowledge of human 
 nature would seem opposed to this comfortable 
 belief. Great authorities have told us that most 
 out of the few unions formed upon the sole basis 
 of mutual affection fall short of expectation, and 
 come openly to grief. Even the seeming excep- 
 tions are in all likelihood nothing of the sort, only 
 in them the contracted parties manage some- 
 how^ to consume their grief and disappointment
 
 218 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 unnoticed. Then again, look at the stock 
 analogy between nations and individuals : do 
 we see states engaging in alliances or treaties 
 dictated by the casual impulse of fancy and 
 sentiment ? Quite the contrary ; such unions 
 are the fruit of some grave necessity for offensive 
 or defensive combination. The same rule ob- 
 tains throughout nature, and the very vermin 
 under our feet unite for the purpose of extending 
 their power of ministering to their own comfort. 
 Other feelings are probably altogether absent in 
 their cases, though they exist, and cannot be 
 overlooked, in mankind. But instead of exag- 
 gerating their importance, as we are so lament- 
 ably prone to do, let them step dowm from the 
 pedestals which they have usurped, and find 
 their proper level in waiting upon the reason. 
 Friendship is nothing if it is not partnership to 
 begin with ; and it is impossible for that man 
 to be successful or happy who does not habitually 
 regulate his actions by the standard of strict 
 commercial principles. Familiar as this sound 
 maxim must be to thorough men of business 
 like Messrs. Edwards and Kock, it is so far 
 from enjoying universal acceptation among the 
 careless and unthrifty majority that a statement 
 in this place of the impregnable position main- 
 tained by those gentlemen seems necessary in 
 order to do aw^ay, once for all, with any colour-
 
 BIBLIOGEAPHY. 219 
 
 alDle pretext for a somewliat delicate misunder- 
 standing which their conduct may or may not 
 afford. 
 
 How deeply their hearts were in their work 
 might have been guessed from the appearance of 
 the two men when they met the next morning. 
 Mr. Rock's blinking eyes and frequent yawns 
 betokened a restless night, while the look of 
 strained anticipation on his friend's interesting 
 countenance was scarcely less expressive. 
 
 " What luck ? " were the first words that almost 
 broke from Edwards in the excitement of this 
 critical moment. Indeed, it was clear that, 
 should the second search prove as unfruitful as 
 the first, they must consider themselves the 
 victims of a most unfortunate speculation. 
 
 " I don't know," growled the indefatigable 
 Hiram in answer to his question ; " anyhow it's 
 not as bad as it might be, and that's all I can say 
 for it." 
 
 " Curse your long-winded palaver ; can't you 
 tell me the whole thing straight out instead of 
 putting me off with all this humbug ? " and the 
 ao'ent fluno- himself into a chair with a liberal and 
 comprehensive volley of oaths. 
 
 His colleague eyed him with scornful pity, and 
 allowed a considerable interval to elapse before he 
 condescended to reply. At length, however, find- 
 ing that Edwards continued to sulk obstinately,
 
 220 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 he cleared his tliroat, and proceeded to administer 
 a sharp rebuke to his refractory ally. 
 
 "You're enough to make a man turn round 
 and say you may manage the business by your- 
 self," he continued, '' and I'd do it too, if I didn't 
 know it was my fate to be mixed up with you 
 for good, letting alone what is due to the honour 
 of a — ahem — gentleman. I should recommend 
 you to be a little more cautious in future, Mr. 
 Edwards, unless you want to take every one in 
 the house into our confidence. When you inter- 
 rupted me I was about to observe that I made a 
 very complete tour of inspection last night, and 
 took my time over examining everything that 
 looked the least suspicious. Well, the result is 
 tliat there's only one wardrobe of which I haven't 
 seen the inside, and which may contain something 
 better than the rubbish in all the others. It 
 stands in a recess by the head of the bed in 
 Eobur's own room, and I didn't notice it before. 
 Either you or I will have to work that article of 
 furniture to-night, as they expect us to clear out 
 by to-morrow afternoon. It looks as if it would 
 want forcing, as I can't lay my hand on the key, 
 and wasted half an hour in trying to pick the 
 lock. Perhaps you'll say I haven't done enough 
 because the coals in the cellar aren't diamonds, as 
 they ought to be." 
 
 This speech, though its tone was not concili-
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 221 
 
 atory, had a marvellously soothing effect upon its 
 auditor. He even went so far as to grasp his 
 partner's hand in token of apology before replying 
 in quite a sprightly manner, — " Let's go on with 
 those books for a bit ; that will give me time to 
 cipher out a plan of attack on the fortress. I 
 shall get my expenses paid, after all," and he 
 executed a plausible imitation of a laugh. 
 
 "By the bye," said Eock, turning round with 
 some books in his hand from the shelf where he 
 was engaged, " false delicacy being out of the 
 question between us, you'll forgive my mentionino* 
 that your amiable exterior has failed to produce 
 a good opinion of you among the servants." 
 
 "Damn the servants," snarled the other, 
 " what's that got to do with us ? " 
 
 *' Only this," returned the bookseller dryly, 
 " that their distrust of you will extend to me 
 directly any thing's missed, and then it won't be 
 easy to put them off the scent. Whatever we do, 
 we must take care it won't be found out while 
 w^e are here." 
 
 *' Umph," ejaculated Edwards, " how did you 
 discover they suspected me ? " 
 
 " An accident, dear boy, a fortunate accident ; 
 I overheard Gibbins — that's the chap that comes 
 in sometimes to see how we're getting on — talk- 
 ing to the housekeeper about you." 
 
 A long pause ensued, during which the agent
 
 222 ARNOLD EOBUE. 
 
 brooded over this last piece of information. At 
 length he said in a low voice, " Can you make a 
 plan of that room, giving its position on the floor, 
 and the place in it occupied by the wardrobe '? " 
 
 " I shouldn't think much of myself if I couldn't," 
 was the satisfactory rejoinder ; and sitting down 
 to the table Mr. Rock was able in a very few 
 minutes to convey an accurate notion of the 
 requisite details in black and white. 
 
 " That's the citadel," said he, when he had fin- 
 ished ; "I've marked it with a cross to distinguish 
 it from the suburbs, as one might call all the rest. 
 The best entrance for a stranger with an inquiring 
 turn of mind, who was too modest to go to the 
 front door and disturb the inmates, would be 
 through this window, which is in the passage 
 just outside my room," and he indicated it with 
 his pen. 
 
 " There are no bars or shutters, and thouo;h it's 
 about a dozen feet from the ground, there's a 
 delightful water-pipe running down the wall from 
 the roof which would be as good as a ladder to 
 said stranger, if nimble. Then there's a shrub- 
 bery below to catch him if he falls, and if he was 
 to wear gloves he couldn't even scratch his hands. 
 Once inside, the best route is along this dotted 
 line, and," he added, handing the paper to 
 Edwards, " the stranger may be left to his own 
 devices."
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 223 
 
 " Now, then/' said that gentleman, buttoning 
 his coat over the document, "I'll tell you how we 
 can do this thing, and disarm suspicion at one 
 blow. When I get back to the inn to-night I 
 shall o;ive out I'm ofoinoj over to see a friend at 
 Burfield, and shan't be back before eleven, per- 
 haps not till later. Very well, I shall really go 
 there to pass the time, and it won t be a bad 
 thing to oifer to take a message for the landlord. 
 Everything will be snug here by half-past ten, 
 and with your list slippers it won't make any 
 difference even if they are not all asleep. Any- 
 how, no one will be on the floor in question except 
 you and me." 
 
 Kock nodded encouragingly, and he went on. 
 " Well, I can manage the whole business com- 
 fortably in half an hour, and shall get back to 
 the inn, — say by a quarter-past eleven. At 
 twelve o'clock, w^hen I am safe to be in bed and 
 asleep, you must make a racket, and break a pane 
 of glass in the window which I shall leave open ; 
 only you must take care that the broken glass 
 falls inside on to the carpet, to give it the appear- 
 ance of having been done by a burglar in forcing 
 his way in, you see. By the way, you haven't got 
 a revolver with you, I suppose ? " 
 
 *' No," replied his smiling comrade ; " I've had 
 an objection to fire-arms ever since " 
 
 "Never mind, then," interrupted the other.
 
 224 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 '' I'll leave mine at your door on my return from 
 the room, and you must fire one of the chambers 
 through the open window. We don't want to do 
 more than alarm the servants, so I wouldn't fire 
 more than one ; it will be quite enough to make 
 them look upon you as their preserver." 
 
 Mr. Eock raised his hands in a kind of ecstatic 
 benediction. " Creative genius, creative genius," 
 he sighed, " how beautiful you are ! In list 
 slippers," he continued, returning to the practical 
 and commonplace after a moment's rapturous 
 contemplation, " in list slippers your footsteps 
 can't be traced, no matter how soft the soil may 
 be here and there, and we can burn them after- 
 wards. Only take care they are not spotted at 
 the inn, dear boy ; take great care they are not 
 spotted at the inn." 
 
 That evening the bookseller excelled himself. 
 His flow of sparkling anecdote moved Mrs. 
 ]\Iarchpane to tears of laughter, and some of 
 his sallies of wit even communicated a risible 
 influence to the waistcoat of the austere Gibbins 
 himself. 
 
 " We shall sleep well after this," said the 
 housekeeper when the gentlemen rose to retire, 
 and the bailifl" gaped sympathetically. 
 
 Mr. Eock had to thank his excellent strategy 
 that the servants were sent to bed earlier than 
 usual, and the lights in the upper windows
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 225 
 
 showed that the house would be soon hushed in 
 slumber when he left Joshua preparing to turn 
 in, and reached his own door. Cautiously un- 
 fastening the window-catch in the passage, he 
 raised the lower sash about an inch that it might 
 open easily from outside, and softly drew up the 
 blind half way. Then he entered his room, and 
 closed the door without quite fastening it. 
 
 " Lucky he's got a coat with those convenient 
 inside pockets," he meditated, " or some one might 
 have noticed the slippers when he took them away. 
 What with them, a clothes-brush, lantern, and 
 jemmies, he'll have enough to carry. What a 
 clever chap he is, too ; fancy his thinking of a 
 mask ! I can scarcely believe his being up to 
 such dodges, if this is his first attempt at the 
 particular style of thing, as he says." 
 
 Left to himself Hiram was becoming sleepy. 
 Nature has no reverence for the diplomatist, and 
 demands her tribute even in his case. He had 
 been gradually lapsing into unconsciousness in a 
 chair in front of the fire, when he shook himself 
 together wdth a start, and began to face the fact 
 that he was about to be baulked of another good 
 night's rest. 
 
 " The thing ought to be done realistically," he 
 mused ; " I must uncase, and go to bed, though 
 the devil knows how I'm to stay awake if I do." 
 His eyelids were so heavy when he had put out 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 the candle, and lay back on the pillow, that he 
 felt as if nothing short of a couple of wedges 
 could keep them open. Alternately dozing and 
 listening, he gradually began to give more time 
 to the former and less to the latter operation, 
 till a sudden violent reveille from his own nose 
 caused him to spring up in a panic, and light a 
 match to look at the time. Reassured by the 
 hands of his watch, which stood close upon 
 eleven, that the ominous sound had at any 
 rate no connexion with the feathered ' trumpet 
 to the morn,' he crept to the door, and was 
 just in time to see something like a hand dis- 
 appear round the corner of the window-sill 
 outside. Hurriedly noticing that the lower part 
 of the window itself stood open wide enough 
 to admit a man's body, he concluded that 
 Edwards had accomplished his mission in safety. 
 This opinion was shortly confirmed by the sight 
 of the revolver on the carpet near his feet ; 
 having made himself master of which agreeable 
 bed-fellow, and finding that it was loaded in 
 every chamber, he got once more between the 
 sheets. This time, however, the interval did 
 not pass so quickly. He was thoroughly roused, 
 and though he closed his eyes, his consciousness 
 of any passing sound, or tremor seemed heightened 
 rather than diminished by so doing. 
 
 *' How I wish I could have really put the 
 
 I
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 227 
 
 contents of that little persuader into liis body as 
 he got through the window," he thought, as he 
 tossed about waiting for twelve o'clock to come ; 
 " and so I would have, if the thing had been 
 possible without damaging myself just as much. 
 I can't help myself now that he has come to 
 life again to spite me." 
 
 He maundered on about his friend's foibles, 
 and his own hard position, till a few minutes 
 past midnight. Then he rose, lit his candle, put 
 on a pair of shoes and an overcoat, and leaning 
 out of the window, smashed in a pane in the 
 right place with his elbow as noiselessly as 
 possible. After pausing to remove the pieces of 
 glass from his sleeve, and satisfying himself that 
 no one had been disturbed as yet, he proceeded to 
 bang his door energetically a few times, and 
 rushed up and down the passage shouting with 
 all his might. This proceeding was not long in 
 rousing the desired commotion. The sound of 
 footsteps was already upon the stairs when he 
 fired the pistol through the open sash, and sank 
 back in a well-feigned paralysis of terror against 
 an angle of the wall. In this attitude he was 
 discovered by Mr. Gibbins, who, with a light in 
 one hand and a cudgel in the other, was advanc- 
 ing gingerly towards the scene of the disturb- 
 ance. So startled was he upon suddenly turning 
 the corner to find his brother philosopher in 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 what appeared to be a truly woful predicament 
 that the candlestick fell from his grasp with 
 a crash, thereby narrowly escaping a greater 
 tragedy than the matter in hand, — a holocaust, 
 namely, in which the hero of the hour might 
 have played the chief, if an unwilling, part. As 
 it was, a shriek arose from Mrs. Marchpane's 
 contiogent at the other end of the passage, in 
 spite of Hiram's prompt extinction of the cause 
 of danger by covering it with the door-mat. 
 
 This little incident rather spoiled his enjoy- 
 ment of the dramatic situation, but he never- 
 theless persevered nobly, and pointing to the 
 window gasped, " He got out there ; I was too 
 late, and missed him. Eun round the front 
 way, man, and you may find him even now," he 
 added, addressing the bailiff. 
 
 Gibbins had his own view of the case, how- 
 ever, and suggested that they should see first 
 what harm the burglar had done, and also look 
 about for anything he might have dropped when 
 Mr. Eock surprised him. 
 
 Mrs. Marchpane, fearful of something happen- 
 iug to Joshua, seconded his proposal, and ob- 
 served that" the door in the passage had been 
 opened, though she remembered to have shut it 
 before she went to bed. 
 
 *' Then," remarked Gibbins, assuming a trucu- 
 lent demeanour, ^' rest upon me ; " and ably
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 229 
 
 supported by the gallant bookseller he marched 
 at the head of the little party towards Arnold's 
 room. The door stood open, and in they all 
 walked, pale but resolute. The housekeeper was 
 the first to see what was wrong. 
 
 " Why it's master's wardrobe the thief's been 
 at," said she, pushing past the others ; "he 
 always keeps the key on his bunch, and took it 
 away with him to Burnport." 
 
 While Mrs. Marchpane was staring ruefully 
 at the ransacked wardrobe, and Gibbins was 
 exploring under the bed, something in a dark 
 corner attracted Mr. Eock's attention. It was 
 a jewel-case which had evidently been forced 
 open and rifled of its contents. The tray was 
 lying at a little distance ; Edwards must have 
 filled his pockets, and then flung the box aside 
 as a useless encumbrance. 
 
 " Hullo, what's this ? " said Hiram, taking it 
 all in at a glance ; and he stepped forward to 
 pick up the case. 
 
 " That ? " said Mrs. Marchpane, when it had 
 been brought to the light ; " why, it's my poor 
 mistress's old jewel-case that was too small to 
 hold all her things, so that she had another one 
 made for them specially, and it's at the bank. 
 If that's what the rogue has been after, he's had 
 all his trouble for nothing, Mr. Eock. Well, this 
 is enough to amuse a body, isn't it ? "
 
 230 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 
 
 " Tliere be that can packe the cards, and yet cannot play well." 
 
 Bacon. 
 
 Morning dawned at Oakleigh upon an unsettled 
 household. Tempers were ruffled by the unusual 
 disorganisation ; no one seemed inclined for work, 
 and there was quite a smart epidemic of colds in 
 the head. Breakfast was not ready at the usual 
 hour ; so the male portion of the garrison went 
 out to glean some information of the precise 
 nature of the nocturnal assault. Making a careful 
 detour of the house, nothing worthy of notice 
 met their gaze till they arrived below the win- 
 dow through which the shot had been fired. The 
 shrubbery at that point exhibited signs of having 
 been disturbed, a few twigs were broken, and 
 the soil had a trampled appearance, though no 
 clear impression of a boot was to be found any- 
 where, a fact at w^hich Mr. Rock expressed 
 considerable surprise.
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 231 
 
 " The fellow must have walked away on his 
 head," he said at last, when a searching scrutiny 
 had more than ever cod firmed his admiration of 
 his confederate's artistic finish; "plenty to do 
 here for the Burfield police, eh, Mr. Gibbins '? " 
 
 The bailiff nodded laconically. ''Not as I 
 can ax ^em to do anythink without the master's 
 orders," he grumbled. " I s'pose I must wTite 
 and tell him about this here bit o' work. Fancy 
 a chap a-creepin' in here, and givin' us all this 
 sight o' trouble for jest nothin but a broken 
 winder. Powerful mean and sneakin I calls 
 it." 
 
 The full unpleasantness of the situation had 
 only dawned upon Joshua with the conviction 
 just arrived at that he would have to write a 
 letter. Not till that moment had the audacity 
 of this wanton interference with the rights of 
 property and the repose of private citizens 
 seemed to him so hideous a piece of sacrilege. 
 That he, a quiet and irreproachable individual, 
 should be at the mercy of every vagabond who 
 chose to put him to the inconvenience of be- 
 coming a special correspondent was an injury 
 not to be thought of with any degree of 
 calmness. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you would waste a 
 couple of days before you do anything ! " ex- 
 claimed Mr. Eock ; " why, it's a sin and a shame
 
 232 ARNOLD PvOBUR. 
 
 to wait a minute longer, if you can help it. 
 Such delay is scandalous, sir, quite scandalous 
 in my opinion." 
 
 " 1 dessay your opinion may be wuth a good 
 deal in a gen'ral way, sir," responded Gibbins, 
 not sorry for an opportunity of displaying some 
 of his spleen, " but pYaps you'll b'lieve me when 
 I say as I ain't used to no conterradiction from 
 outsiders, Mr. Rock. Does the cares o' this house 
 rest upon you, or does they rest upon me, sir ? 
 You seems wonderful interested in us for a 
 stranger, to be sure." 
 
 " No more than any other impartial observer 
 would do in my place, sir," said the virtuous 
 bookseller, with noble self-effacement. " No doubt 
 you are quite right, Mr. Gibbins ; but won't you 
 be persuaded to send a telegram instead of a 
 letter?" 
 
 " What ! and let the folks at the post-office 
 know all about it ? " 
 
 '' But won't they know anyhow ? Gossip, 
 my dear sir, will soon spread the news, unless 
 Oakleigh is different from every other place in 
 the world." 
 
 But Gibbins, though he was beginning to regain 
 his wonted placidity, remained obdurate. 
 
 "Well, I ain't the one to set it a-goin'," he 
 remarked. " You see, you want to do too much. 
 You've shot off your gun, now it's my turn to
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 233 
 
 post my letter. We'll have breakfast fust, though ; 
 and don't you say nothink to hery 
 
 It has been hinted more than once that 
 Mr. Rock's forte was diplomacy, — which is the 
 more remarkable because he never displayed 
 any acquaintance with French, and therefore 
 could have possessed none. For there is a 
 natural connexion between private and political 
 intrigue and every other kind of subtlety sub- 
 servient to it. Now the real importance of 
 foreign languages consists in the fact — as yet 
 only comprehended by diplomatists — that each 
 is the appropriate medium for expressing dif- 
 ferent sentiments. There is a peculiar fitness 
 in the use of German as a vehicle for meta- 
 physics, Spanish for social courtesies, Italian for 
 the softer emotions, Latin for academic themes 
 and moral disquisitions. As to English, it is 
 such a mongrel affair that it can hardly be said 
 to present any particularly striking characteristic 
 of its own, but rather adapts itself automatically 
 to the disposition of the individual user. Per- 
 haps, however, its gradual Americanisation will 
 end in giving it a decided advantage for the 
 discussion of commercial transactions, and estab- 
 lish its pre-eminence as a record of the vicissitudes 
 of buying and selling. In Coleridge's remark 
 about the very phrases of the French language 
 being so composed that it can scarcely be spoken
 
 234 ARNOLD ROBUf^. 
 
 without lying, a profound philosophical explana- 
 tion is contained of the persistent survival of 
 that tongue in the mouths of courtiers and 
 ambassadors. Whatever modes of expressing 
 themselves so as to conceal their real feelings 
 have been devised by other civilised nations, 
 the French are certain to excel them in this 
 respect ; and no better illustration of the rule 
 could be furnished than its exception in the 
 case of Hiram Kock. His British origin is 
 only explicable on the ground that his talent 
 for scheming was wholly subordinate to his 
 s^enius as a man of business ; it mio^ht even 
 be maintained, without intending injury to our 
 neighbours' feelings, that France could not have 
 produced such a man. 
 
 The rougrh draft of the catalo2^ue had still 
 to be completed, and Mr. Rock hurried over 
 his ' matutinal muffin ' in order to join his 
 assistant in the library. He was surprised to 
 find Edwards more resio^ned than he had antici- 
 pated. Great reverses must be sustained with 
 fortitude or they would be too much for flesh 
 and blood to bear. The luxury of worry is 
 reserved for comparatively trivial and endurable 
 misfortunes. Each gave the other his account 
 of what had occurred without comment, and the 
 melancholy aspect of the situation was unrelieved 
 by the smallest approach to badinage on Hiram's
 
 MEN OF HONOUE. 235 
 
 part. Then they set to work at once as the best 
 means of forcrettinor their sorrows, labouring; in a 
 hopeless, mechanical way. 
 
 How noiselessly does Fate spin her invisible 
 entanglements; her sternest exigencies being 
 often but trifles in their origin, gossamer meshes 
 which time transmutes into bonds of adamant. 
 Edwards on the ladder was already reading out 
 the titles of the books in the last shelf, while his 
 companion wrote them down on a slip of paper, 
 which for greater convenience he had fixed to a 
 small piece of board by means of drawing-pins. 
 They had finished up the paper provided for 
 them, but had not thought it worth while to 
 ring for more as Edw^ards happened to have a 
 blank sheet in his pocket which was sufficient 
 for the purpose. As the bookseller took it he 
 noticed that it bore the printed address of the 
 newspaper office at which his friend was em- 
 ployed ; but neither of them thinking this to 
 be of any consequence, since the paper was to 
 be used simply for a private memorandum, he 
 had beofun to cover it wdth a list of names. 
 
 " Heio-h-ho," sio;hed Edwards, *' this is the 
 last ; " and he drew out a heavy volume at the 
 end of the row. 
 
 A fine old bureau of black oak, half writing- 
 table, half book-case, was standing open close 
 by the ladder, and as he spoke the book slipped
 
 236 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 from his grasp, and fell to the floor, striking the 
 movable flap of the bureau smartly on its way. 
 Edwards descended from his perch, picked it up, 
 and was about to replace it when he uttered a 
 sudden exclamation which brought Hiram out 
 of his easy-chair before the fire, and made him 
 enquire what was the matter. 
 
 " Look," said the other, pointing to that part 
 of the bureau which w^ould be covered when the 
 flap was closed, " don't you see anything ? " 
 
 Mr. Eock hastily approaching, pulled his 
 spectacles dowm over his nose, and peered into 
 the recess. A crack about a quarter of an inch 
 wide was visible between the hinges of the flap, 
 and evidently indicated a sliding panel moving 
 inwards to the back of the structure. 
 
 " Capitally managed," said Hiram admiringly, 
 *' no one would have dreamed of a secret drawer 
 here, all the space seems accounted for without 
 it. The fellow who made this knew how to keep 
 a secret." 
 
 So saying he took a knife from his pocket, 
 and with the blade pushed back the panel, 
 though not without some difficulty from the 
 resistance of the spring by which it was worked. 
 There appeared to be no catch to hold it when 
 open ; so Rock fitted the piece of board contain- 
 ing the last portion of the catalogue into the 
 aperture before probing the cavity below\ "Aha !
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 237 
 
 it's made sloping backwards," he cried ; *' that's 
 why we overlooked it, my boy. Hullo, what's 
 this ? " and he brought out a good-sized packet 
 of yellow papers tied with a faded ribbon ; 
 " securities, or deeds of some sort, put here 
 and forgotten, eh ? " 
 
 Edwards snatched the bundle from him, and 
 untied the ribbon, his comrade watching him 
 eagerly with twitching fingers. The advertis- 
 ing agent's face fell as he scanned one by one 
 the dusty documents before him. 
 
 " Pah ! love-letters," he muttered, letting them 
 flutter down onto the carpet. " Are you sure 
 there's nothing more ? " 
 
 Mr. Rock was eno-as^ed on his knees in collect- 
 ing the papers, so his junior partner tried his 
 hand on the bureau, with the result of bringing 
 to light a small case of leather. Opening this 
 he discovered an antique ring, with a plain gold 
 guard of more modern make containing a band 
 of hair, in which two shades seemed to be evenly 
 blended. 
 
 " Well, here's something at last," remarked 
 Hiram, " that ring's worth having, depend upon 
 it, and sure not to be missed for ever so long." 
 
 " Nothing of the sort," said Edwards in a 
 disgusted tone, examining it attentively. " The 
 setting is half the value, and that would be 
 spotted anywhere ; look at these figures and
 
 238 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 scrolls and enamel ; and then there's a motto 
 inside, Amor rex et lex!^ 
 
 '' But then the stone's valuable, anyhow," 
 pleaded Hiram ; " come, we must have that, 
 it's such a biof one." 
 
 o 
 
 '' I tell you it's no good," returned the other 
 angrily, " it's shaped like a heart, and would be 
 known anywhere ; I'm not going to be mixed 
 up with receivers of stolen goods for nothing, 
 I can tell you ; no more are you, if you've got 
 any sense in your head." 
 
 " Safest not, I suppose," said Mr. Kock sadly, 
 " but it does seem like ingratitude to Providence 
 to chuck this lovely thing away. Shut it up 
 again, my dear boy, before we're tempted to do 
 anything rash," and he himself set the example 
 by proceeding to tie up the letters again before 
 replacing them. Edwards said nothing ; appar- 
 ently his feelings were too much for him. He 
 had turned his back on his cautious confederate, 
 and it seemed inconsiderate to bother him just 
 at this moment of supreme aggravation. Rock 
 looked round for the ring-case ; it was on the 
 table. He seized it hastily — it would never do 
 to expose himself to the anguish of another 
 hopeless glimpse of its contents, — and uttering 
 a disconsolate groan dropped it with the bundle 
 into the cavity. 
 
 What was his surprise to see the piece of wood
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 239 
 
 which he had pkced to keep the panel open fall 
 in after them, disturbed by the shock of their 
 descent, and the lid close with a click. But 
 surprise became horror when Edwards turned 
 at the sound, holding the identical ring and 
 guard in his hand which Rock was already 
 congratulating himself upon having placed 
 beyond the reach of his own and his partner's 
 cupidity. 
 
 The two men stared blankly at each other. 
 Both understood at once what had occurred, 
 and there was no disguising the awkwardness 
 of this new predicament. 
 
 " Damnation ! " ejaculated Edwards thickly, 
 "you've done it now." 
 
 " Don't give in yet ; we've opened it once, 
 let's try again," and Hiram began to jolt and 
 shake the bureau in every conceivable way in 
 the hope of inducing the friendly crack to re- 
 appear. Their united efforts, however, had not 
 the slightest effect upon the panel, which remained 
 just as obstinately closed after they had dropped 
 books from the top of the ladder upon the flap 
 for a quarter of an hour as it was before. There 
 was scarcely a square inch in the surface of the 
 bureau which they did not rummage and tap to 
 equally little purpose, and in the end they were 
 forced to sic down when every expedient had 
 been exhausted, and acquiesce in the galling fact
 
 *240 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 that a jewel had been thrown on their hands, 
 which, however intrinsically valuable, was worse 
 than worthless to them ; while the most con- 
 clusive evidence of their involuntary theft was 
 left in its place for the owner of the ring to use 
 at his discretion. 
 
 There was little outspoken recrimination 
 between the partners of the ruined firm ; what- 
 ever they may have thought, they were too 
 well-bred to do more than silently reproach 
 themselves. 
 
 " Why couldn't you have sat up to the table 
 to do your list, instead of fastening it to a 
 treacherous board ? " vainly enquired the senior s 
 outraged conscience. 
 
 " Why did you let him have that stamped 
 paper ? " clamoured the junior's inward monitor. 
 
 But the presence of a great danger has often 
 an ennobling effect in the closer union of men's 
 sympathies with each other. 
 
 " We have a common interest in keeping this 
 dark," said Edwards at last, breaking a somewhat 
 oppressive silence. 
 
 " In this catastrophe we must stand by each 
 other like — Britons," was Rock's frank response. 
 " It's enough to make one cut such irregular 
 pursuits, and throw one's tools down the nearest 
 well," he added. 
 
 An earnest consultation followed, in which all
 
 MEX OF HONOUR. 241 
 
 the circumstances of the case were rigorously 
 sifted. It was highly probable from the clusty 
 state of the contents of the secret drawer that its 
 existence was unknown to the master of the 
 house. The bureau was to all appearances a 
 genuine heirloom, — none of your sham pieces of 
 patchwork which swarm plentifully everywhere, 
 and whose uniform tint of as^e has a curious 
 affinity with the stuff in upholsterers' paint-pots. 
 Might it not be — was it not, indeed, almost 
 certain — that some dead hand had placed the 
 ring and letters in their concealment, and that 
 now no living soul besides themselves held the 
 knowledge ? They wished they had paid more 
 attention to those letters ; it was clear that, if 
 any answer to this important question remained 
 above ground, it was to be found in the forgotten 
 records of which they had declined in their blind 
 impetuosity to avail themselves. Maddened by 
 the thought, they were half inclined to burst the 
 panel open, and replace the ring by force. But 
 this course proved on examination to be im- 
 possible without at once attracting suspicion. 
 The stout oak was far too solid to be tampered 
 with, and was held in its place with the grip of 
 an iron vice. Without the proper implements, 
 and security from interruption, it was useless to 
 attempt to make a breach, even had it been safe 
 to do so on other grounds ; and Kock knew well 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 that the greatest precautions would be taken to 
 prevent a second nocturnal inroad. 
 
 The more they considered the matter the more 
 disastrous seemed the total which its elements 
 composed. Robur possessed a letter from Rock ; 
 even supposing it was lost or destroyed he would 
 recognise the writing on the list, should he ever 
 discover it. Sooner or later an accident would 
 reveal the secret of the bureau, as it had been 
 revealed that day. For the future both partners 
 felt that they could never know what it was to 
 be secure again. Edwards, too, was fatally im- 
 plicated by the address on the paper. What did 
 it matter if, as his friend assured him, nobody in 
 the house had heard his name ? There was the 
 clue which must trace him always at Robur's 
 disposal. He must throw up his situation at 
 the Taha office, and be run to earth some day in 
 
 spite of all. 
 
 " We can't even offer to buy the concern," he 
 
 said moodily, with a kick at the bureau. 
 
 *' Certainly not, unless we want to cut our 
 
 own throats," responded the other. " He's not 
 
 so hard up that he wants to part with his 
 
 furniture, though there ain't anything worth 
 
 taking in the house." 
 
 " You'll have to leave Copesbury and change 
 
 your name again ; I suppose you know that ? " 
 " I'm not so sure about it, my boy. Suppose
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 243 
 
 this blooming panel does go and peach, how's he 
 to know there was anything in it besides those 
 letters ? " 
 
 " No matter how he'll find out, there'll always 
 be the chance that he will, especially with your 
 damned list to help him." 
 
 " Well, if you leave the Tuha, and I go away 
 from Copesbury, won't there be something funny 
 about our both disappearing simultaneously ? " 
 
 " True, king ; we'd better toss up w^hich is 
 to go." 
 
 " Not a bit, and I'll tell you why. You can 
 do as you like, but I shall stay on at present, — ■ 
 not because I couldn't do just as well elsewhere, 
 but because I'm safe to hear if young Robur 
 finds out about the ring soon enough to get 
 away, and drop my identity. Whenever I want 
 to know anything I can always get it out of old 
 Gibbins, the bailiff. He comes over to markets 
 at Copesbury, and I shall take precious good care 
 to keep up the connexion. What we want is a 
 confidential man to hang round here and watch 
 events, and he'll do well enough for the job, 
 with a little manao-inor till we can find some one 
 better. Why, the thing may never leak out in 
 our lifetime at all, and I'm not going to err on 
 the side of recklessness again, my boy, don't you 
 think it." 
 
 " H'm, as long as you're careful you won't do 
 
 R 2
 
 244 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 any harm, I take it," said Edwards in a musing 
 tone. " Plenty of things may happen," he con- 
 tinued ; ''the house may get burnt down, or 
 young Robur may die. This going about for 
 bis health, and doing nothing, don't look as if 
 his life was a particularly good one. I wonder 
 what he does at Burnport. It would be grand 
 if we could hit on someone who had a grudge 
 against him, and throw everything upon Us 
 shoulders. Anyhow, I mean to give them the 
 slip, so you can look out for yourself, so long as 
 we back each other up whenever there's occasion." 
 
 Hiram agreed effusively. He was not sorry 
 that his friend should keep out of the way, and 
 leave him as ignorant of his whereabouts as other 
 people. " He'll make a convenient scape-goat if 
 I should ever want one," he thought to himself. 
 What would become of diplomacy without mental 
 reservations ? 
 
 They had just time to make a fresh copy of 
 that portion of the list which had been lost, 
 before Gibbins came round to the door with the 
 chaise to convey them to Burfield. Many were 
 the compliments bestowed by Mrs. Marchpane 
 upon the elderly cavalier, who, as she said, '' had 
 risked his own life to save them all ; " and pro- 
 fuse the acknowledgments of her hospitality 
 which greeted her in return. 
 
 As they turned the corner of the drive Rock
 
 MEN OF HOXOUR. 245 
 
 tried to stand up aud wave his hat to the house- 
 keeper, and narrowly escaped a bad spill from 
 the vehicle in consequence. 
 
 " Sit down, man," said Joshua gruffl}-, " do 
 you want to frighten the 'oss, or break the 
 springs ? " 
 
 " He do seem a nice old gentleman," remarked 
 Rhoda Dandrum, as Mrs. Marchpane re-entered 
 the house somewhat regretfully. 
 
 ** The hoary head is a crown of glory," quoted 
 the old lady in reply, settling her cap over her 
 own locks, with which the wind had trifled a 
 little rudely. " May you be able to say as 
 much for me, my girl, when my head is as white 
 as his." 
 
 Gibbins' urbanity was completely restored 
 under Mr. Rock's lubricating iufluence by the 
 time they reached the station. 
 
 '' I've sent that 'ere letter," he whispered, as 
 he assisted the bookseller with his bag, " and 
 I've put in somethink about you that 'ud make 
 your mouth water." 
 
 '^ Have you though ? " said Hiram, much grati- 
 fied ; " that was kind of you, Mr. Gibbins, and 
 I'm not the man to forget a kindness. No, sir. 
 But I'm afraid you've made more of my poor 
 efforts than they deserve ; I am, indeed." How- 
 ever, he consented to be soothed upon this point 
 on condition that the bailiff paid him a visit if
 
 246 AKNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 he found time when at Copesbury, besides 
 promising to write if there was any news about 
 the burglar. 
 
 '' I'm naturally anxious to hear more about 
 the fellow I tried to catch for you," he said, 
 shaking Joshua's hand ; " besides, I know the 
 inspector at our police-station ; and might be 
 useful to you in case he could do anything." 
 
 Arrived at Co|)esbury, Edwards immediately 
 took his departure for London, carrying off the 
 •ring with him " for safe keeping," as he jocularly 
 informed his friend. 
 
 " You'll probably hear from me soon," he said 
 at parting ; " it will be easy to invent a safe way 
 of corresponding." 
 
 Kock professed himself quite satisfied with the 
 arrangement, only advising the other to get rid 
 of the knick-knack, for fear he might be tempted 
 to air it in public. 
 
 " Trust me," replied that trustworthy indi- 
 vidual ; " I might drop it into the Thames as I 
 go home to-night." 
 
 Mr. Kock's shutters at the Cope-house had 
 remained up since his departure for Oakleigh, 
 and his ' young man ' — very young indeed, 
 in fact, a boy — had been given a holiday during 
 the interval. The bookseller was otherwise un- 
 assisted in the conduct of the establishment, 
 having no family to manage even his domestic
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 247 
 
 affairs. His mention of a son of his to Arnold 
 on the occasion of their first interview must not 
 however be considered to contradict the un- 
 doubted fact that his childless condition had 
 never been anything else ; for it would be unfair 
 to judge so harshly of a man who merely adopts 
 the beautiful Positivist romance of investing^ his 
 bachelorhood with the halo of paternity. Coarse 
 souls, alas ! have been planted everywhere only 
 too thickly ; and it is possible that such refine- 
 ments may elude some comprehensions. But 
 whose fault is that ? If the majority of oar 
 neighbours are groundlings, must we therefore 
 clip our soaring pinions to the general pattern ? 
 
 Upon the arrival of Hiram's body-servant the 
 next morning to remove the shutters and resume 
 his duties, which included every sort of menial 
 ofiice except cooking, for his master took his 
 meals at a tavern hard by, he was greeted 
 with an unusual moral repast in the form of 
 a lecture upon the relations of employers and 
 employed. •' 
 
 '' Now, Thomas, while you're cleaning ^those 
 boots," said Mr. E,ock, throwing down a pair 
 on the shop floor, " you will do well to incline 
 your ear unto the precepts of age." Hereupon 
 he seated himself upon the staircase that led 
 upwards out of the shop, folded his arms, 
 and frowned majestically upon the astonished
 
 248 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 youngster. " Thomas," he continued, observing 
 that his attendant hesitated, " proceed to apply 
 the blacking ; you can t afford to lose what wits 
 you've got. After a period of repose, Thomas, 
 work should be the pleasant er, pleasant as it 
 must be at all times to serve an indulgent patron. 
 You've had your fling, and come back prepared, 
 however satisfied you may be with your past 
 career, to do better in future." 
 
 *' Yessir, I wants to better myself in future," 
 said Thomas, moistening his brush by a natural 
 and unaffected process. 
 
 His master eyed him severely for a moment, 
 and then went on. 
 
 '' Listen to one who has had some experience 
 of life outside Copesbury, Thomas. To speak 
 only of your present occupation, many are the 
 ao-reeable and instructive lessons that may be 
 drawn from the art of cleaning boots. Scraped 
 soles, and glossy upper leathers, are nothing to 
 the meaning and the poetry inside a boot, 
 whether on or off the foot. Why, you young 
 rascal, you ought to be paying me for the 
 advantage of contemplating these interesting 
 objects alone, not to mention the hundred other 
 things I allow you to handle freely, d'ye hear ? 
 Let us consider the operation from its com- 
 mencement. Having carefully dried the articles 
 in question, you must spread the blacking — the
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 249 
 
 best quality, mind — evenly over the whole 
 surface ; and take care that you mix it properly, 
 and don't drown the generous stuff with water. 
 Now just you remember that with all your work ; 
 begin at the right time in the morning, so as to 
 strike while the iron's hot, and spread your work 
 evenly all over the day. Don't you crowd it, 
 my young friend, — don't you rush for it with a 
 hop, skip, and jump, doing what you like, and 
 leaving what you don't care about. And then it 
 must be w^ork that's worth having ; you mustn't 
 stop short after brushing a few cobwebs off the 
 roof, you must go on right through the house 
 down to the ground. No adulterating labour 
 with idleness ; no holding boots over the gas 
 because you haven't given yourself time to dry 
 them properly beforehand ; you're sure to be 
 found out, and directly the leather splits it splits 
 on you. No, Thomas ; do things on the square, 
 even down to the polish and style you put into 
 your work, and you won't regret it. There's 
 nothing prospers quite like honesty," and Mr. 
 Eock took a deliberate survey of the surrounding 
 shelves as if he half expected his eyes to rest upon 
 something that did nearly as well. '' Honesty is 
 a necessary quality in servants," he resumed ; 
 " remember that, and you won't starve. As for 
 the masters, they've got to set you work, and see 
 you do it. But that's no business of yours ; so
 
 250 ARNOLD EOBUE. 
 
 all you'vQ got to do is to take warning by what 
 I've said, or you'll never have a chance of better- 
 ing yourself." 
 
 Upon Thomas evincing a disposition to put 
 a private and most unwarrantable construction 
 upon this concluding remark, a regard for his 
 personal security counselled immediate retire- 
 ment, and Hiram was left to deplore the de- 
 generacy of youth in a solitude undisturbed for 
 hours by a single customer. His mid-day bread 
 and cheese had been consumed, and he had come 
 back to his chair behind the counter, close to the 
 stove, when a shadow suddenly cut off the sun- 
 light which was streaming through the window, 
 and roused him from the doze of innocent 
 repletion. 
 
 " Now, young gent, come in, if you're coming," 
 muttered Hiram, annoyed by the vacillating 
 demeanour of the shadow's proprietor. The 
 *' young gent " slowly complying, the door 
 opened upon a lanky, overgrown figure some- 
 what too fashionably clad, and surmounted by 
 so tall a parapet of collar that its wearer 
 w^ould have found a chin an extremely awkward 
 encumbrance. 
 
 *' Want to see a book in your window," drawled 
 this person languidly. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the bookseller with beaming 
 alacrity, "certainly, sir," and he shuffled round
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 251 
 
 the counter. " AYhich might it be of all these, 
 sir, which I may have the honour of presenting 
 to your notice, sir ? " 
 
 His customer, with a gratified blush, indicated 
 the book he wanted, and Mr. Rock reached it 
 down for him. 
 
 ^' * A full and true account of the stirring Advert- 
 tures of Captain Gawrey^ together with a faithful 
 narrative of his last moments upon the Scaffold. 
 London ; printed for John Smith at the Chopping - 
 Block in Fleet Street,' That's a work of rare 
 merit, sir ; I don't wonder at your taking an 
 interest in it. The gentleman I got that book 
 from brought it to me one day, and says he, 
 ' For God's sake, Mr. Rock, take it and rid me of 
 it ; I had the misfortune to read it once, and now 
 I can't sleep with it in the house.' ' Dear me,' 
 says I, taking up the book and looking at it, 
 just as you are doing now, sir ; ' what's the 
 matter with it ? ' * Well,' he says, and I give 
 you my honour his teeth chattered so he could 
 hardly get a word out, ' there's an accuracy of 
 description and a fidelity to detail about those 
 adventures that makes one feel as if one had 
 been through 'em all oneself; the thing's too 
 real, I can't stand it.' He didn't live Ions: after 
 he gave me the book, poor gentleman ; so you 
 might almost say it was responsible for his death. 
 But it's just the reading for a spirited young gent
 
 252 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 like yourself, sir ; the taste for sermons, according 
 to my experience, comes later." 
 
 A bargain was soon struck, and Hiram en- 
 quired to what address he might direct the 
 parcel. 
 
 " F. Dalton, Esq., junr., Beau Sejour, Burfield," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " I was close by there yesterday, sir," said the 
 bookseller, making a note of it; ^'perhaps you 
 may know Mr. Robur, sir, who lives at Oakleigh ? " 
 
 "Rather, I should think I did; why, there's 
 been a robbery at his house." 
 
 Rock could not help giving a little start ; then 
 he said briskly, " True, I was staying in the 
 house myself at the time ; went over to cata- 
 logue the books, you know ; but we couldn't 
 stop the thief. However, he didn't find any- 
 thing to take, they tell me ; so it's not so bad 
 as it might be. Nothing fresh happened, I 
 suppose, sir 1 " 
 
 Frank replied in the negative, and enquired if 
 his new friend was the hero of the pistol, about 
 whom he had heard from Gibbins. 
 
 Mr. Rock made the admission apologetically. 
 " What a thing is notoriety," said he ; " I shall 
 see my name in the Copeshury Courier and Slug- 
 wash Sentinel next. And so you know Mr. 
 Robur, sir ? he has the reputation of being a 
 charming young gentleman, sir."
 
 MEN OF HONOUR. 253 
 
 Frank grunted. " Has he ? Eeputations ain't 
 always true, then," he muttered. 
 
 His customer's manifest dislike of Arnold did 
 not escape the wary Hiram. However, he 
 thought he would go on and make sure. 
 
 " You surprise me, sir ; nothing could exceed 
 his affability through the little I have had to do 
 with him in a business way." 
 
 " Tastes differ ; I'm not one of his friends." 
 
 " A painful subject, sir, I see ; allow me to 
 ask your pardon ; the sweets of conversation 
 with one's betters sometimes lure one unawares 
 on to forbidden ground, as a great wit, whose 
 name I have forgotten, pithily has it." Then he 
 began to launch out into a tide of reminiscences 
 about criminals and detectives, till Frank thought 
 he had never before met such an enofao^ino^ com- 
 panion. He even took a chair when Eock offered 
 him one, and listened with all his ears. Suddenly 
 the bookseller broke off in the middle of an ex- 
 citing narrative about an escape from prison, and 
 said abruptly, " You smoke, sir ? " Frank draw- 
 ing a meerschaum from his pocket was implored 
 to load it and make himself comfortable. 
 
 ''There's nothing like an atmosphere of tobacco- 
 smoke for improving the flavour of a story," said 
 Mr. Eock, " though I can't afford to indulge 
 myself that way as often as I should like." 
 
 Frank's conversion to democratic principles
 
 254 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 was completed by this congenial sentiment. 
 Hitherto he had not been accustomed to meet the 
 advances of those whom he regarded as social in- 
 feriors with anything like cordiality. But when 
 he was reluctantly compelled to depart in order 
 to keep an engagement with Armitage, he con- 
 fessed to himself that he had never known what 
 good company was until the moment when he 
 entered the shop kept by his entertainer. He 
 begged Hiram to procure for him the histories of 
 some of the personages from whose fascinating 
 careers the bookseller had extracted most of his 
 anecdotes that afternoon, and offered of his own 
 accord to make the Copehouse his rendezvous as 
 often as he paid a visit to the town, which would 
 probably be about twice a week during Armit- 
 age's period of residence, the latter having offered 
 to take him in hand as an experiment, much to 
 the elder Mr. Dalton's temporary relief. When 
 he reached home that evening he was able to 
 inform his family that the arrangement was 
 settled, and Grace was somewhat astonished to 
 find that he contemplated the idea of doing a 
 little reading under these fresh auspices with 
 wonderful equanimity. She would have been 
 still more surprised, perhaps, if he had said any- 
 thing about the literary friendship which he had 
 been so fortunate in forming.
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 
 
 '•To onr friend, the hours seemed moments; holy was he and 
 happy: the words from those sweetest lips came over him 
 like dew on thirsty grass ; all better feelings in his soul 
 seemed to whisper, It is good for us to be here." — Sartor 
 Besartus. 
 
 The two days following Arnold's call on the 
 Misses Blunsden passed without any occurrence 
 of an exciting nature. The uncomfortable char- 
 acter of our hero's slumbers on that evening 
 made him resolve to once more indulge his 
 animal propensities and take exercise of a moder- 
 ately violent character, but he met with no 
 adventures. However, his temper suffered, be- 
 cause his return to life on the ocean wave cut 
 him off from the sight of his charmer, and he 
 was in a very grumbling mood, as he dressed 
 himself for dinner on the Thursday evening. 
 He mislaid his collar stud, and found it com- 
 fortably bestowed in the place where he had set 
 it with his own hands on a corner of the mantel- 
 piece, after pouring forth for his own gratification
 
 256 AUNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 a stream of abuse of the cliambermaicl for " put- 
 ting his things in order. Confound her ! why 
 on earth couldn't she let alone ? " The charge 
 was quite unfounded — the particular damsel to 
 whom Arnold's room was assigned was sufficiently 
 unorthodox to have a firm belief that some works 
 are works of supererogation. She never was 
 known, to have done those things she ought not 
 to have done, though her sins of omission were 
 countless. 
 
 When he found that his expressions of indig- 
 nation as directed against the maid were super- 
 fluous, he turned his attention to the linen, and 
 used quite unjustifiable language about the 
 excellent laundress employed at his hotel ! Then 
 his tie wouldn't tie ; his boots wouldn't go on : 
 his coat was creased ; nothing, somehow, was 
 rio^ht this eveninor with our friend — and all for 
 no mortal reason, but that for the space of forty- 
 eight hours he had not been able to set eyes on 
 a girl to whom he had never spoken, and as far 
 as he could see was never likely to speak. 
 
 Alas for frail humanity ! Arnold was quite 
 aware that it was very wrong to lose control of 
 his temper ; he was conscious that his satisfaction 
 was diminished rather than increased by these 
 ebullitions ; there was no doubt in his mind that 
 the passionate principle was at present over- 
 riding the rational in a very unphilosophic
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 257 
 
 manner ; but he wilfully and deliberately gave 
 way to unreasoning wrath, and started to make 
 his way to East Kise in a sadly sulky frame of 
 mind. He was even disposed to think disre- 
 spectfully of the two good souls whom he had 
 found so unexpectedly entertaining two days 
 before. 
 
 " They're all very well," he growled as he 
 sauntered up the ascent, " they're all very well, 
 no doubt, but it's a confounded bore having to 
 nuisance oneself with them. I wonder whether 
 they have got the niece Mrs. Dalton spoke of — 
 bound to be a stupid piece of millinery, if they 
 have, living with Miss Blunsden. That would 
 be worse than the two old ladies alone. Hang 
 it, it would be just my luck if they had a girl of 
 that kind staying wdth them." 
 
 It is a general trait of human nature that 
 every man firmly believes himself to be the 
 special object of the malevolence of Fortune. 
 Every unexpected or expected mischance or in- 
 convenience is hailed with the universal cry — 
 '' Just my luck." 
 
 Arnold arrived at his destination and was 
 shown up into the drawiug-room. The Misses 
 Blunsden were seated there alone. They rose on 
 his entrance, and Miss Hilda greeted him with 
 eflusion. 
 
 "We're so glad you've been able to come, Mr. 
 
 VOL, I. s
 
 258 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 Eobiir ; , I assure you, we have been looking 
 forward so much to seeing more of you, for you 
 see we so seldom see young men here. Really, 
 there are so few gentlemen we know living in 
 Burnport, except some of the clergy of course : 
 and I'm sorry to say that the vicar of our own 
 parish is not at all a man we care to cultivate. 
 Won't you sit down ? It is so cold this evening 
 that one is quite glad to have a fire." And 
 Miss Hilda sank into a comfortable arm-chair in 
 a cosy corner. 
 
 Robur had shaken hands with Miss Joanna 
 during this address, and he now sat down, feeling 
 exceedingly stupid ; the only remark he could 
 think of was a vague corroboration of Miss 
 Blunsden's observations on the weather. 
 
 The handle of the door turned. " Dinner's 
 ready, please, ma'am," thought Arnold, preparing 
 to rise — but the expected words did not fall. 
 He turned his face towards the door and — his 
 heart gave a desperate jump as he recognised in 
 glorious apparel the divinity who had been the 
 unconscious object of his worship ever since he 
 tumbled overboard by the beach. 
 
 " Ursula, dearest, this is Mr. Robur ; our 
 niece Miss Lorton, Mr. Robur." 
 
 Arnold felt horribly afraid that he was blush- 
 ing ; certainly he was very hot. A thrill of 
 unadulterated bliss shot through him as he took
 
 JCST HIS LUCK. 259 
 
 the firm soft hand the girl held out. " Oh, why 
 doesn't it end here?" he thought; " if I could 
 only go out like a candle, or turn into an eternal 
 memory of this moment ! Life will never be 
 worth livinor after this." Outwardly, he was an 
 ordinary young man saying a formal " how do 
 you do." Under his dress-clothes the blood was 
 reelino[ throup[h his veins in more than Bacchic riot, 
 as long as Miss Lorton's hand remained in his. 
 
 Doubtless it would be becoming to give some 
 description of Ursula's attire, for the benefit of 
 the ladies. But that is beyond the power of man. 
 It was only to Arnold's love-deluded eyes that 
 there was anything peculiarly splendid about the 
 costume, which would have attracted no atten- 
 tion of itself, being of a very simple character. 
 Nevertheless, Arnold fancied that if it were possible 
 the wearer was now even more bewitching than 
 in the plain black she wore out of doors. But 
 then he was now face to face with his enchantress, 
 and her graces were more palpably apparent 
 than when she was taking her walks abroad, and 
 enly came into view for a few brief moments. 
 
 " Dinner's ready, please, ma'am." The sum- 
 mons really came this time, and Arnold, as in 
 duty bound, presented his arm to Miss Blunsden, 
 and the party descended to the dining-room. 
 
 Our hero's spirits had returned with a rush. 
 He felt that his chambermaid's shortcomino-s 
 
 o 
 S 2
 
 260 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 were excusable, and that his charges against his 
 laundress were uujust. Had his worst enemy 
 entered the room, he would have greeted him 
 cheerfully, and looked upon him as a dear friend. 
 Had any one done him a mortal injury, he would 
 have forgiven him with a peaceful smile at that 
 moment. He felt friendly to the whole world ; 
 nay, in his magnanimity he was conscious that 
 if Miss Blunsden asked him to dinner every day 
 for a fortnight, he would accept the invitation 
 without a grumble. 
 
 It is to be noted that it did not occur to 
 Arnold Robur that tlds state of affairs was "just 
 his luck." His plate was laid on Miss Hilda's 
 right, as that lady presided at the festal board : 
 Miss Joanna sat at the other end of the table ; 
 and opposite him, straight opposite him, was 
 Ursula. 
 
 The first article on the programme was an 
 elaborate grace, delivered with becoming solem- 
 nity by Miss Blunsden. There is reason to fear 
 that Arnold's mind was not as attentive as it 
 might have been to the petitions for a blessing, 
 and the thanksgiving " for the many who are 
 less plentifully endowed," which made Miss 
 Joanna indulge in a gesture of some impatience. 
 He was too much occupied in giving inarticu- 
 late thanks for blessings which the fair Mother 
 Superior knew not of.
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 2G1 
 
 '' Well, Hilda, I must say I don't feel thankful 
 that there are others less bounteously provided 
 for than ourselves," commented the younger Miss 
 Blunsden, when the grace was finished. 
 
 " My dear Joan," said her sister, smiling 
 sweetly, " you must surely see that it is most 
 becoming and proper to return thanks for every 
 mercy vouchsafed us." 
 
 Joanna was obviously chafing at the other's 
 bland distortion of her meaninor. Ursula broke 
 
 o 
 
 in cheerfully in her defence. 
 
 " Why, Aunt Hilda, you surely aren't glad 
 that there are some people starving ! " 
 
 Arnold thought he had never heard so delicious 
 a voice. 
 
 '' My dear child " — it seemed that Aunt Hilda 
 was getting vexed — " if it is the merciful ordering 
 of Providence that some people should have to 
 be hungry, we should still be thankful." 
 
 Arnold thought it time to break in. Miss 
 Blunsden's back seemed to be getting up, if such 
 an expression may be applied to that chaste 
 though elderly maiden. 
 
 "I don't think any one who has heard some 
 of the graces they still say in a few of the colleges 
 at the 'Varsity would ever be discontented at 
 anything he is likely to hear south of the Tweed," 
 he said. " To hear two old dons hammering 
 away at alternate clauses for three minutes, or
 
 262 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 scholars peeing how quickly they can reel off a 
 yard of Latin, is more than human nature can 
 stand, if reverence is to be expected. Have you 
 ever visited Cambridge, Miss Lorton ? " 
 
 " I was only there for a few hours once — 
 during the Long Vacation, I suppose, for there 
 seemed hardly anyone there." 
 
 "Ah, you should have been in the May- week, 
 when the races are on. Ladies manage to get 
 up an astonishing amount of enthusiasm about 
 those races, I find ; but I have a private 
 suspicion that what they enjoy most is to see 
 an upset." 
 
 ''We can see that sometimes without going 
 to Cambridge for it, Mr. Kobur." There was a 
 little ripple in the girl's voice which made 
 Arnold blush r^her unexpectedly. 
 
 "Well yes, — I'm afraid I made an example 
 of myself the other day ; and I suspect you saw 
 me, Miss Lorton." 
 
 Oh Arnold Eobur I Arnold Eobur ! If women 
 are hypocrites, what may not men be. "I 
 suspect you saw me " — as if your whole conduct 
 ever since hadn't been guided by your positive 
 knowledge of the fact ! 
 
 But Ursula was not to be outdone. 
 
 " Oh ! was that you I saw on the beach ? " 
 quoth she demurely. 
 
 " Confound it, she might have let me think
 
 JUvST HIS LUCK. 263 
 
 she recognised me/' thought Arnold, " but that's 
 a privilege I don't deserve." 
 
 Here Aunt Hilda broke in : her attention 
 havinof hitherto been centred on the fish which 
 she had been demolishing. 
 
 " Dear me, Mr. Robur, I hope you didn't have 
 an accident ? You should really be careful ; 
 someone told me you weren't very strong." 
 
 '^ My accident was not of a serious nature, 
 Miss Blunsden. I had been indulging in a sail, 
 and as I wasn't attending to my business when 
 we ran ashore, I was tumbled overboard and got 
 a duckinof. But sea-water is wholesome, and I 
 haven't suffered any evil consequences, I assure 
 you. 
 
 " Oh, but are you quite sure, Mr. Robur ? I 
 know I heard you cough, when you came into 
 the house." 
 
 " That's chronic," said Robur, laughing. " I've 
 had a cough for the last eight years or so, and 
 I never found it did me any harm. A real 
 thorough -going churchyard cough is the safest 
 thing in the world. It doesn't hurt, and really 
 if it didn't make so many people anxious 'to 
 mve me ' somethins: which was sure to cure me 
 at once,' I should rather like it than otherwise. 
 My lungs are as sound as a bell." 
 
 Miss Hilda's face assumed an expression of 
 serious concern. "Dear me," she said, "that
 
 264 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 sounds very bad. I don't like to hear of young 
 people who do that sort of thing. Are you sure 
 you haven't been made worse by your accident ? 
 I don't think you're looking very well. Now, 
 when I am out of sorts, I find a little lio;ht 
 medicine is always a great assistance." Miss 
 Blunsden's air was a curious combination of 
 contented cheerfulness and sympathetic anxiety. 
 *' Would you be so good as to carve this for me ? " 
 
 Arnold promptly assumed the knife and fork 
 and set to work on the fowl before him. " Please 
 don't begin by getting alarmed about me," 
 he said, when this business was satisfactorily 
 completed, " I don't deserve any sort of sym- 
 pathy." 
 
 " Aunt Hilda is a very skilful physician, Mr. 
 Robur : hadn't you better submit yourself to her 
 treatment ? " said Ursula, smiling. 
 
 Robur said to himself that he had no notion 
 how bewitching her face really was till he saw 
 that smile. It was one of those smiles which 
 few even of the loveliest girls can boast : a smile 
 which seems to belong only to the particular 
 person on whom it is bestowed, ^' making his 
 life splendid with a memory ; " so that it seems 
 incredible that a similar one should ever be 
 granted to any one else Conscious coquetry has 
 no weapon to be compared to this, the charm of 
 which lies very much in its unconsciousness.
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 265 
 
 But it inspires the highly-favoured recipient 
 with a yearning to thrust a knife into the vitals 
 of any man who has the audacity to speak to the 
 lady wdio bestowed it. 
 
 Miss Blunsden's temper w-as thoroughly re- 
 stored by her niece's judicious compliment : she 
 purred like a cat when it attains to the highest 
 feline felicity, which, if w^e may judge by appear- 
 ances, is more perfect than that enjoyed by any 
 other animal, man not being excepted. 
 
 " I wish you would," she murmured ; '' if I 
 may say so, I reall}" believe Ursula is right. I 
 have been the instrument by which a number 
 of cures have been wrought. Some people 
 believe in quinine, Mr. Robur, but I have never 
 found it nearly so efficacious as the medicine I 
 am in the habit of recommending." 
 
 " Did you ever try quinine ? " quoth Joanna 
 with some sharpness. 
 
 " Joanna, dearest, I know your weakness on 
 this subject. I say nothing against quinine, 
 but I cannot think it is to be compared to my 
 medicine. But I am ready to appeal to Mr. 
 Robur. Let me persuade you to try it, IMr. 
 Robur, and I am sure it will do you all the 
 good in the world." 
 
 Miss Hilda's voice was persuasive, but Arnold 
 was not to be beguiled. He had been forced to 
 try too many nauseous compounds already by
 
 266 AENOLD EOBUE. 
 
 anxious friends, and he knew as well as possible 
 that there was no reason whatever for drugging 
 himself. He sheltered himself under a mean 
 subterfuge. 
 
 ''I fear," he said, smiling, ''that I should not 
 be a competent judge of the comparative merits 
 of the panaceas. I have never given quinine a 
 fair trial." 
 
 " Six drops taken three times a day just 
 before meals in half a wine-glass of water, and 
 a double dose when you go to bed, would cure 
 you in a month, I am sure," said Miss Hilda : 
 not referring to the medicine he named. 
 
 " You might give a month's trial to each, you 
 know," suggested Ursula, '' or take them turn 
 about for a few weeks." 
 
 " My dear," said her aunt seriously, *' I don't 
 think that plan would do at all. I have never 
 tried it among my poor." 
 
 Arnold seized the opportunity to turn the 
 conversation. 
 
 "I hope Saint Guthlac's altar-cloth is pro- 
 gressing favourably," he said. "Does Miss 
 Lorton take her due share in these labours 
 for the spiritual enlightenment of the lower 
 orders ? " 
 
 '' T don't fancy I could enlighten the lower 
 orders much, Mr. Robur, if you mean the poor 
 people ; at least not in Aunt Hilda's way. I
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 267 
 
 haven't the necessary gift for artistic em- 
 broidery," said Ursula, her eyes lighting up 
 aQ:ain with the divine smile. 
 
 " I wish," said the downright Joanna from 
 her end of the table, " that people would give 
 up talking about the lower orders, as if they 
 were an inferior part of creation. I don't think 
 it's right." 
 
 " Peccavi,'' said Arnold ; "I was wrong in 
 doing so, I admit. But it is one of those forms 
 of expression one gets into the habit of using, 
 without thinking what they mean. I must try 
 and get out of it." 
 
 Miss Hilda was crumblin« her bread and 
 rolling it into little pills unconsciously, a sure 
 sign that she did not agree with the remarks 
 that w^ere goino^ on. 
 
 *' Joanna, dearest," she said, with a suspicion 
 of tartness in her voice, '*I cannot understand 
 why you are always quarrelling with the arrange- 
 ments it has pleased Providence to make. We 
 have been divided into classes, some higher and 
 some lower, and it is my opinion, whatever. that 
 may be worth, that we should be thankful that 
 we are placed in a higher sphere than some of 
 our fellow-men ; and should rather labour to 
 teach our humbler brethren to be contented 
 with their lot, than seek to raise up misguided 
 ideas of equality in them. And I am sure that
 
 268 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 is what tlie catechism of our dear ancestral 
 Church teaches us." And Miss Blunsden closed 
 her mouth, after this little oration, with a click, 
 as who should say, " That settles the question, 
 I rather think." 
 
 " If they're to be thankful for their poverty, 
 WQ shall have to teach them a good deal, I 
 expect," said Joanna brusquely. 
 
 Ursula thought it was time to break in. 
 
 " Surely we aren't going against the Church 
 catechism if we want people to try and better 
 themselves," she said. " It doesn't follow that 
 they are 'called' to just the state of life they 
 were born in, Aunt Hilda. Isn't there such 
 a thing as a right ambition ? " 
 
 " We want them to improve their condition," 
 said Arnold, '' but we don't want them to strive 
 after the impossible, or expect a state of society 
 where every one is equal all round, because that 
 would involve equality of brains, which no state 
 enactments are very likely to produce. But 
 surely we needn't regard them as inferior 
 creatures." 
 
 Miss Blunsden met this combined attack with 
 fortitude : even with a smile. " Dear me, Mr. 
 Robur," she replied, " I am surprised to find 
 you taking up these radical ideas, and actually 
 supporting my sister ! But things have changed 
 since my young days. It positively makes me
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 269 
 
 feel angry sometimes, the rude way the boys 
 behave, never touching their caps to their 
 superiors or anything. But I have said my 
 say." The good lady's magnanimity was doubt- 
 less due in part to the presence of a guest, who 
 unluckily did not take her part. 
 
 Miss Lorton, however, thought it was time 
 to change the subject. 
 
 " I am very remiss," she said, " I have never 
 asked after Grace Dalton yet, Mr. Robur. How 
 is she ? " 
 
 The question led to a general discussion about 
 the Daltons, mingled with reminiscences of the 
 old Brighton days, which employed the company 
 pretty fully till dinner was finished. 
 
 "Ursula, child, aren't you going to give us 
 some music ? " suggested Aunt Joan, after they 
 had been seated some while in the drawing- 
 room. " I hope you are a musician, Mr. Robur." 
 
 Arnold admitted that he had been known to 
 play and sing, and that he held music generally 
 in high esteem. 
 
 " Now do you know I never could understand 
 that enthusiasm for music ? " said Aunt Hilda. 
 " Of course I think it's very nice in its proper 
 place, but I never could care for it in the w^ay 
 some people seem to. There is nothing I like 
 better than a GreQ:orian, but as for these sonofs 
 everybody sings, I don't see the beauty in them."
 
 270 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Hilda!" said Ursula. "Don't 
 believe her, Mr. Eobur ; she is very fond of 
 them. I believe they help her to go to sleep." 
 
 " Come, Ursula, don't keep your aunt wait- 
 ing," said Joanna : and the elder Miss Blunsden 
 subsided with a placid smile. 
 
 " Let us have that new song of yours, my 
 dear. It ought to be new to Mr. Robur." 
 
 So the piano was prepared and Ursula sang, 
 while Arnold sat enraptured. 
 
 "THY HEART TO MINE, LOVE." 
 
 Thy heart to mine, Love, 
 
 What if storms are wild ? 
 My lieart to thine, Love, 
 
 Fiercest gales are mild. 
 Thy heart to mine, Love, 
 
 Suns shine o'erhead ; 
 My heart to thine, Love, 
 
 Soft paths are spread. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thy heart to mine, Love, 
 
 Sorrows flee away ; 
 My heart to thine, Love, 
 
 Labour turns to play. 
 Thy heart to mine. Love, 
 
 Peace comes for strife : 
 My heart to thine, Love, 
 
 Death turns to Life. 
 
 When the infatuated admirer heard that song, 
 he thought there never was, and never could
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 271 
 
 be, another to equal it, from which the depth 
 of his infatuation may easily be gathered. 
 However, he was not permitted simply to sit 
 and adore ; he was promptly summoned to take 
 his own share in the entertainment. He sang, 
 and played : he even had the ineffiible bliss of 
 playing for Ursula when she sang again — this 
 time a song which was known to him. Miss 
 Lorton, to his great satisfaction, restricted her- 
 self to sinoinor Eno^lish sonojs : for somehow, 
 when we hear a human voice, however divine 
 the melody, we prefer to know what the words 
 are about ; and there are not many English 
 damsels who can sino; German or Italian son^s 
 intelligibly, even for the ears of linguists. How- 
 ever, seeino^ how few of the said damsels can 
 sing an English song intelligibly, perhaps 
 they are justified in confining their attentions 
 to foreign words. Then they can at least 
 aver that it is the ignorance of their audience 
 which makes them unintelligible ; and the 
 audience, fearing the accusation, will give double 
 applause. 
 
 So the evening passed pleasantly enough, till 
 Arnold felt that he must tear himself away. 
 With heartfelt expressions of gratitude for a very 
 delightful entertainment, he withdrew ; leaving 
 an important vital organ behind him, meta- 
 phorically ; and actually feeling the said organ
 
 272 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 tliump exceedingly hard when lie bade " good 
 nio-]]t " to Miss Lorton, and for the second time 
 that evening; felt her hand rest in his for one 
 brief moment. 
 
 He went out, and almost mechanically lighted 
 a cisar, to see himself home with. He looked 
 up at the moon which was looking down on 
 terrestrial proceedings with a broad grin on her 
 face : and felt tempted in vague exhilaration to 
 offer the chaste goddess a weed : but he refrained. 
 The incense of his own tobacco he considered 
 might suffice, and render her propitious. He 
 went down, and leaned over the railings that 
 topped the sea-wall, and looked out on the great 
 sheet of darkness, with one glorious band of 
 silver gleaming across it, and watched the tiny 
 ripples curling and sparkling in the moonlight : 
 and as he gazed, he thought over the last three 
 hours. What an evening ! Any man who has 
 spent four years at Cambridge is bound to have 
 had some pleasant evenings ; and Arnold had had 
 his share — but never one like this before. This 
 was another matter altogether. Somehow, it 
 seemed to take him out of himself : to raise him 
 to a new and purer sphere of being. And Ursula ! 
 was there ever, could there ever have been 
 another girl like her, or comparable to her ? 
 Arnold's soul was filled with thanksgiving to 
 Paston for sending him down to Burnport. His
 
 JUST HIS LUCK. 273 
 
 mind recurred to that conversation with his 
 friend at Oakleigh. Classify the devil ? No 
 need now. " The devil is routed permanently," 
 thought our hero in the exhilaration of his 
 heart. " See what Burnport would do for me ? 
 Oh, Eobert Paston, if you only knew ! Burnport 
 has done for me altogether." If he was some- 
 what sanguine as to the surrender of the Prince 
 of Darkness, he may be excused. 
 
 When he had gazed and pondered his fill — or 
 to speak more correctly, when he became too 
 conscious that the air was cool, to go on gazing 
 and pondering comfortably, he turned his steps 
 regretfully homeward to his hotel. 
 
 " For one more smile like that," said Arnold, 
 as he blew out his candle and turned into bed 
 an hour or so afterwards, "for one more smile 
 like that, I would — by Jove, I would turn 
 crossing-sweeper." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 274 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 A WALK. 
 
 " But he had felt the power 
 Of Nature, and already was prepared 
 By his intense conceptions, to receive 
 Deeply the lesson deep of love which he 
 Whom Nature, by whatever means, has taught 
 To feel intensely, cannot but receive." — The Excursion. 
 
 Arnold allowed two or three days to elapse 
 before he again paid a visit at the house on East 
 Rise. They were days of almost insufferable 
 length and boredom, and he was at that stage 
 when absence from the beloved object seems to 
 be sheer waste of time, an impious refusal to 
 take the good that is provided. Especially is 
 this the case wdien it is actually difficult to 
 avoid contact from the provoking proximity 
 of the enjoyment which must be temporarily 
 eschewed. Nevertheless, the laws of polite 
 society, wholesome or unAvholesome, appear as 
 plainly written upon the hearts of all right- 
 minded persons as that significant warning
 
 A WALK. 275 
 
 upon the palace wall at Babylon which robbed 
 a certain historical banquet of its conviviality. 
 Full many a time in the course of our lives 
 banquets are set before us too, but warned by 
 these laws (and perhaps others besides) we may 
 not touch the viands and continue without 
 reproach. There is a death's-head, do what 
 we will, to spoil the feast, and the name of 
 it is Decorum. Translating into plain English, 
 a young gentleman is expected to return the 
 hospitality of his entertainers by a call, but is 
 not to presume on the strength of a mere invita- 
 tion to dinner that any desire for his company 
 at all times and seasons is thereby intimated. 
 For which text, together with due illustrations 
 and corollaries, vide Etiquette Books. 
 
 Now, inasmuch as love is an uncertain thinsf, 
 not unfrequently susceptible of the longer form 
 of spelling known as infatuation, it may be 
 doubted whether such artificially compulsory 
 furloughs away from its service are likely to 
 end in results of undiluted benefit. A shrewd 
 and influential writer once remarked with cynical 
 candour that marriage was a lottery. That is 
 doubtless true enouo^h in the case of the million. 
 But why should it be so ? Is such a state of 
 things so satisfactory that all can contentedly 
 acquiesce in it ? There is an aristocracy of love, 
 however, whose members have good reason for 
 
 T 2
 
 276 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 their mutual affinities and selections, even though 
 they know it not. These have enjoyed many 
 opportunities of witnessing the behaviour of their 
 future mates before they dare palter with tre- 
 mendous oaths of faith and constancy. They 
 are in no haste for the livelong misery of con- 
 tentious strife when no discoveries can separate 
 them more ; knowing that, in whatever sense 
 " marriages are made in heaven," there is neither 
 marriage nor divorce for the soul which has 
 never truly loved, and that to love we must in 
 some measure understand. If the tests of a 
 well-tried affection are less frequent they must 
 be more crucial, and thus love be purged by a 
 fiery ordeal of its own from the dross of a first 
 sight fancy. 
 
 '* And we've never been there yet,*' Miss 
 Joanna was saying as Arnold was announced 
 and entered the room. 
 
 " It seems I have chosen an unlucky time to 
 call," said he, after a few words. '' You were 
 speaking of going somewhere ; let me come in 
 another day." To lose the chance altogether of a 
 glimpse of Ursula after he had waited so patiently 
 for it would have been too hard. 
 
 " Oh no, Mr. Kobur, thank you ; we have 
 been out to-day. Aunt Joan was only talking 
 about the caves at Marchland, we want to see 
 them so much. But I dare say you have been
 
 A WALK. 277 
 
 there in your boat, and can tell us all about the 
 place." 
 
 He had not even heard the name, and besought 
 for further information. " My intimacy with the 
 coast, though a pretty close one with a spot in it 
 not a hundred miles away, is not so extensive as 
 you suppose, Miss Lorton." 
 
 She laughed. It was a treat to hear Ursula's 
 laugh ; there was not the least suspicion of ex- 
 citement or nervous exaggeration about it. You 
 felt sure that the laugher was just as capable 
 of feeling other emotions, it was so sincere and 
 sympathetic. Arnold would have craftily dis- 
 sembled his knowledge of any and every subject 
 if he could have got an account of it from her 
 lips by so doing. 
 
 Miss Hilda was not present, and Aunt Joan 
 was knitting a comforter for one of her Sunday 
 scholars with an abstracted air, so he was able 
 to confine his attention exclusively to Ursula as 
 she continued. 
 
 '' Marchland is a little fishing village along the 
 coast about ten miles from here, and there are 
 caves there, — very large ones, — covering about 
 two acres, I believe. Then there is an old 
 church, and the ruins of a castle, — a much 
 better one than our castle here, they say ; 
 and from all accounts it must be a charm- 
 ing place. People go over there for picnics
 
 278 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 sometimes in the summer, but nobody goes in 
 the winter." 
 
 " Well," remarked Aunt Joan, " we must get 
 over there by hook or crook, Ursula, before the 
 tourist season comes round again." 
 
 *' Why not by sea,'' said Arnold, " and let me 
 be your escort ? " 
 
 Ursula clapped her hands. " That is indeed 
 a happy thought, Mr. Robur," she cried enthusi- 
 astically. " Wouldn't you like that, Aunt Joan ? 
 You often say how you wish you could go for a 
 sail." 
 
 In Aunt Joan's bosom, however, the usual 
 conflict was being fought between her own and 
 other people's likings, with the usual result. 
 
 *•' My dear," she replied, a little troubled at 
 disappointing Ursula, "as far as I am concerned, 
 very little tempting would make me burden Mr. 
 Robur with the responsibihty of looking after 
 two troublesome females for a wdiole day ; but 
 we must not forget your Aunt Hilda, and I feel 
 quite sure that she would never trust herself 
 upon the sea with only a plank between her and 
 destruction. What's more to the purpose, she 
 would never allow us to run the risk alone, and 
 tliere wouldn't be much pleasure for her if she 
 came with us." 
 
 Ursula could not help smiling at the idea of 
 asking the Mother Superior of the Guild of St.
 
 A WALK. 279 
 
 Guthlac to adventure her future capacity for 
 ministering to the spiritually destitute within 
 the narrow compass of a frail cockle-shell, as 
 any sea-going craft below the dimensions of a 
 first-class man-of-war was held to be in that 
 lady's estimation. Some youug ladies might 
 have thought it prettier to pout, or drum pet- 
 tishly with their feet. But Ursula was an orphan, 
 and had not been spoiled, so there was some 
 excuse for her igjnorance of such endearino^ little 
 
 o o 
 
 arts. 
 
 " We could not leave poor dear Aunt Hilda 
 behind, she is so fond of old ruins and churches," 
 was all she said. 
 
 " Certainly not," said Arnold promptly ; " but 
 that needn't prevent our seeing all there is to 
 be seen at Marchland. If you will allow me, I 
 will arrange for our transport by land. Miss 
 Blunsden will not mind a carriage, I suppose, 
 if the horses are steady ; and I will make that 
 my special care." 
 
 When it appeared that Aunt Hilda could have 
 no possible objection to this mode of conveyance, 
 it was settled that Arnold should call for them 
 all with a suitable vehicle the next mornino^, if 
 fine ; and Aunt Joan undertook to provide a 
 hamper for their lunch in the caves. 
 
 Wonderful to relate, the morrow, though it 
 did not bring with it a cloudless sky, was yet
 
 280 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 amply favourable for the little expedition. 
 Arnold studied the weather forecast while he 
 sat at breakfast ; and seeing that a cyclone had 
 been prophesied with customary meteorological 
 malevolence for that very day, concluded quite 
 reasonably that all the required conditions had 
 been satisfied. When the comfortable landau 
 which he had ordered, drawn by two stout 
 horses, made its appearance, he flung himself 
 into it with an easy conscience, and was speedily 
 at East Rise. 
 
 Fortune was clearly on his side, for Miss 
 Hilda was not ready, and could by no means 
 be persuaded to start for another hour. Some 
 specimens of embroidery were undergoing in- 
 spection, and it was highly important that the 
 select Committee which was sitting in judgment 
 upon them should not be hurried to any pre- 
 mature decision. 
 
 It was no use, Aunt Joan said, attempting to 
 tell Miss Hilda that the carriage was waiting, for 
 she knew it already, and had locked herself up 
 in the drawing-room with the other like-minded 
 people, refusing to listen to any application from 
 outside ; and Miss Joanna calculated that it 
 would be wise to allow a full hour for the 
 sitting to continue. 
 
 " All women, you know," she said to Arnold, 
 "and can't bring themselves to make up their
 
 A WALK. 281 
 
 minds about a single point, even when tliey 
 can see it ; it's a perfect female College of 
 Cardinals." 
 
 Arnold was so tickled by the notion of this 
 mysterious society that the refractory conduct 
 of its prime mover, or ecclesiastical '' Number 
 One," did not affect him, and this made Ursula's 
 disconsolate face brighten. 
 
 ''The horses shall go back to the stables for 
 an hour," said he. "I will walk on, with your 
 permission, and let you catch me up. Miss 
 Blunsden deserves my thanks for giving me the 
 opportunity to stretch my legs." 
 
 '' I don't see why you shouldn't get a walk 
 too, my dear," said that thoughtless old Aunt 
 Joan ; and the upshot was that these two young 
 people actually went forth alone, and trudged 
 along together for four miles without any one 
 thinking any harm. 
 
 Oh but Joanna was made to suffer finely 
 for this piece of imprudence. One would have 
 taken Miss Blunsden to be an experienced matron 
 with grown-up children of her own from the 
 severe way in which she handled her indiscreet 
 junior. 
 
 " I do declare you might be the careless, giddy 
 creature you used to be thirty years ago, my 
 dear Joanna, instead of a sober woman of the 
 world."
 
 282 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " Well, Hilda, you kaow I always do some- 
 thing wrong when you are not by; you shouldn't 
 lock yourself up when visitors come." 
 
 Meanwhile the young man and maiden were 
 footing it briskly over the rain- washed roads, 
 the fresh breeze quickening their blood, and 
 making their talk as unrestrained as its own 
 swift current. Who of us has not made ex- 
 perience of days when all Nature seemed to 
 exhibit its unity in some new and striking 
 manner for our behoof? When we are per- 
 meated by a sense of communion with every 
 natural object we can see or feel : when the 
 heart swells with exultation for its affinity to 
 every living organism in this great Universe, 
 and the soul grows large and comprehensive : 
 when the stranger whom one meets and passes, 
 never to behold again, is no stranger, but a 
 silent, unrecognised brother, and one is bound 
 to the casual companion at one's side by closest 
 kinship. And yet this personal connexion is 
 but a part, and a small part, of the eternal 
 shock and surprise of that revelation of indi- 
 visibility which all things at such times have, 
 as it were, upon their lips to tell, and which 
 the least hint of a responsive attitude on the 
 part of deaf and blind humanity could, as it 
 seems, evoke in an articulate Te Deum. 
 
 The open country, and the beloved presence,
 
 A WALK. 283 
 
 had an effect on Arnold such as he had never 
 fell; since he became a man, and never before in 
 its fulness. The crowded atmosphere of streets 
 and rooms was gone ; his individuality was lost 
 in the greater, the encircling Individuality ; he 
 was in the glow of the light " shed largely 
 round " which transfigures the dwellers in heaven, 
 and makes every change of conditions familiar, 
 every place and society homelike. He could 
 never have imaoined the fioure of Ursula would 
 seem so accidental and unnecessary, and yet he 
 doubted whether he should have lived the last 
 few moments but for her. In truth the impulse 
 to lay down their parts as principals, and become 
 subordinates in the universal pageant was upon 
 them both. Their souls merged in the surround- 
 ing interfusion of soul, they became immortal for 
 a space, and unmoved beheld divine mysteries — 
 till the sound of wheels disturbed them from their 
 trance, and turned them back to clay. By this 
 time the sky had become clouded, and when 
 they reached their destination they found them- 
 selves confined to the caves by a heavy downpour 
 of rain. 
 
 " Never mind," said Ursula, " there is enough 
 to see here for one day." 
 
 After lunch they explored the gloomy and 
 fantastic region by the aid of candles supplied 
 by an old woman who lived in a hut at the
 
 284 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 entrance, and who led, or rather misled, the 
 party through the strange labyrinth. Aunt Joan 
 asked her how she accounted for the existence of 
 the caves ; but this was a point upon which she 
 preserved a happy impartiality. 
 
 '' Some says the sea washed 'un out, leddy, 
 and some thinks the early Chris'uns did it ; least- 
 ways, I've heerd my feyther say the smugglers 
 used to come here to hide up." 
 
 She spoke of the early Christians as if they 
 were a kind of extinct vegetable, — not unlike 
 early potatoes, or spring onions. 
 
 At last they came to the remains of what 
 seemed an extremely massive door of oak and 
 iron which still held its own in spite of the 
 ravages of decay. A large part of the centre 
 had succumbed, however, and in its place was an 
 iron wicket heavily padlocked. 
 
 " Ye mun ask the parson aboot that," said the 
 old woman in answer to the questions put to her 
 by the visitors. " It leads into the church, that 
 way does ; but I can't let ye through." 
 
 They had been referred to the parson so often 
 during their perambulation, and were so anxious 
 to know more about the caves, that Arnold re- 
 solved to see what he could do for them, and 
 set off for the villas^e throuoh the rain at a run. 
 
 The clergyman was a courtly old man, full of 
 curious learning of the old-world sort, and very
 
 A WALK. 285 
 
 much thrown away upon his poor little parish, 
 Arnold thought. 
 
 He was glad to make the acquaintance of such 
 gentle strangers, and wrapped himself in his 
 cloak at once in order to ascend the hill. He 
 was a bit of an antiquarian, he told Arnold on 
 the way, and had a patriotic pride in the ruins 
 and remains of the neighbourhood. 
 
 The ladies were agreeably surprised that 
 Arnold should have accomplished his object so 
 soon, and extremely grateful to the venerable 
 clergyman for leaving his warm fireside to place 
 himself at their service in such weather. 
 
 " The atmosphere in these ancient caves is 
 always soft and equable," said he in mild depre- 
 cation ; *' the temperature never varies here, 
 whatever it may do outside. For years I have 
 kept a thermometer here w^hich always stands at 
 the same level." 
 
 He showed them where it was in a dark corner, 
 and then opened the wicket in the old door to 
 lead them into the artificial passage beyond. 
 
 " It runs under the churchyard," said he, as 
 they passed through it, " and at the time it was 
 made was the only entrance to the caves. The 
 place by which you entered was probably made 
 by outlaws to whom the original opening was 
 barred by the gate ; and it bears marks of having 
 been built up and pulled down again since. A
 
 286 ARNOLD EOBCJR. 
 
 useful citadel this must have been for the monks 
 of the Priory above in case of raids made upon 
 them by neighbouring barons." 
 
 Opening another more modern door, he con- 
 ducted them into the church, an irregular Saxon 
 structure, not without its few poor anomalous 
 attempts at restoration. It was but a remnant 
 of the spacious fane in which the holy fathers 
 had once worshipped, so its pastor told them ; 
 and from a window they could see the traces of 
 crumbled foundations on every side. 
 
 " The rest of the church, and the monastery 
 to which it was attached," said their guide ; and 
 bade them mark the castle, which seemed to be 
 about a mile away, across a dip in the hills. 
 
 The caves felt quite warm w^hen they retraced 
 their steps, and left the cold church. The wicket 
 liad just been closed behind them when Aunt 
 Hilda remarked, with a sigh which almost ex- 
 tinguished her candle, that life was too busy now 
 to admit of romance. 
 
 " On the contrary, madam," said the clergy- 
 man, ''is it not owing to the picturesque imagin- 
 ation of us moderns that the past has in many of 
 its phases been rekindled ? The life led by 
 monk and confessor, knight and fair lady, was, 
 I suspect, at least as dull and sordid as our own, 
 though the fancy of the historian has loved to 
 bestow upon it a rosy apotheosis of which they
 
 A WALK. 287 
 
 could have had no premonition. Fn like manner, 
 I do not doubt, we shall be objects of romantic 
 interest to our descendants when our prosaic 
 self-importance has been long forgotten. That 
 very door," he continued, touching it with his 
 hand, *' has a tragic story of its own, and has 
 survived to witness its development into the 
 soothing unreality of legend." 
 
 As he expressed his willingness to satisfy their 
 anxiety for farther information, he brought them 
 to a more open spot where the roof wideued into 
 a kind of dome, and showed them rucle ledg:es in 
 the rock, forming no uncomfortable resting-place. 
 Here they were soon disposed : Aunt Hilda first 
 tying a silk handkerchief over her head to keep 
 away the cobwebs. Ursula chose a place next 
 Aunt Joan where she could make a pillow of her 
 shoulder, while Arnold occupied a recess from 
 which he could observe the girl's face, and study 
 the emotions it exhibited. The clergyman paced 
 up and down the sandy floor, sometimes resting 
 himself upon a boulder in the midst.
 
 288 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN OMEN. 
 
 " That pitee renneth sone in gentil herte, 
 Feling his similitude in peynes smerte, 
 Is preued al-day, as men may it see, 
 As well by werk as by auctoritee." — Chaucer. 
 
 Wxt Segenb xrf the Cabes. 
 
 " I HAVE said that the caves are ancient," 
 their guide began, in a measured, self-communing 
 tone; — indeed, his air throughout the following 
 recital was that of one lost in thought, as if the 
 associations for ever imprisoned in those wrinkled 
 walls and frowning chasms had overpowered his 
 consciousness of other things, and summoned of 
 themselves the words that fell half involuntarily 
 from his mouth. 
 
 " So ancient are they," he continued, " that 
 " their origin is lost in obscurity, and all that 
 " we can say of it is but vain surmising. And 
 *' yet the load of earth and rock that rises more 
 '' than sixty feet above has weighed less heavily
 
 AN OMEN. , 289 
 
 '' upon them througliout their age of years than 
 "the dark tale of guilt and rage that blackens 
 " this subterranean gloom, making its warm 
 *' shelter deadly. The graveyard outside is full 
 " of human bones disinterred from time to time 
 '' within this place ; nor have the last, in all 
 ** probability, yet come to light. No man had 
 " covered them with earth, though man first 
 " robbed these stones of innocence, and converted 
 " the kindly refuge into an accidental charnel- 
 *' house. Nature, outraged but forgiving, took 
 *' upon herself the task ; and with her shifting 
 " surface accomplished their slow obsequies. The 
 " o-rass on the hill- top is rank with the venom of 
 " frightful deeds that permeates everywhere 
 " around. The knots swell with its curdled 
 " essence ; its violent course throbs fiercely along 
 " the seams. 
 
 "The deed of which I tell took place some 
 " six or seven centuries ago, — eo matter w^hen. 
 "It is a long time back, but the caves were old 
 " even then. The monastery to w^hich my church 
 " belonged was a thriving and a splendid insti- 
 " tution. Most men of note or power in the 
 " State were churchmen, in the narrow sense, at 
 '' that time ; even the authority of the sceptre 
 " was disputed by that of Rome, and a single 
 " cowl w^as often worth many coronets. Thus 
 "the colony of mouks at Marchland possessed 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 " the temporal allegiance of all who came within 
 " their ken as an appanage of their spiritual 
 ^' authority. The prior to whose administration 
 " my story has given a peculiar interest w^as 
 " known as far as most reputations could spread 
 " in those days to be a man of the strictest 
 *' sanctity and discipline. Heaven be thanked, 
 " men's characters are now more closely scru- 
 ^' tinized before they are entrusted wdth the 
 " guardianship of others' eternal welfare. He 
 " was of noble blood, — the chief recommendation 
 " for such a post, apart from ecclesiastical pro- 
 '' minence. His brother had been lord of the 
 " castle on the next height, the only other house 
 '' of importance in that part of the country. But 
 '' he was dead, and his widow, the stately lady 
 " of Marchland, managed her estates alone, and 
 "ruled her serfs and villeins with an iron rod. 
 '' One child, and that a daughter, had been the 
 " only offspring of the marriage. Her attractions, 
 *' it is said, were of so rare an order that no 
 *' youth could be found worthy of companionship 
 " with such a mate, and she was destined by her 
 " mother to bestow the wealth w^hich would 
 " descend to her upon the Church, as well as to 
 *' take the veil herself. Nor was the maid un- 
 " willing for such an espousal, — at least to out- 
 '' ward seeming. So pliant was her disposition 
 " in the matter that her mother's careful watch
 
 AN OMEX, 
 
 291 
 
 " was relaxed. She was allowed to visit un- 
 " attended a bower in a hollow near the contines 
 " of the priory lands as often as she would, and 
 " thither she used to carry her books of devotion 
 *' when the days were long and mild. Some- 
 '' times her mother would follow, and share her 
 *' solitude, but more frequently the cares of 
 "management detained her after her lord's 
 " death, and she could seldom spare the time for 
 " contemplation. 
 
 " Women were little able to hold their own 
 " in those rude times ; strong minds were scarcely 
 " better than the weakest when the appeal was 
 " made to force. Shrewd and courageous as the 
 " lady of Marchland was, there was one power 
 " with which it was impossible for her to cope. 
 " Unfortunately that power was a neighl)ouring 
 " one ; it was the monastery. Attacks by such 
 " institutions upon their neighbours' rights were 
 " not improbable or unknown. 
 
 "Founded to protect the weak, they often 
 " themselves became oppressors. Defiance of 
 " the laws was tempting when it was easy to sin 
 " against them with impunity, and men whose 
 " office it was to supplement the deficiences of 
 " the written code by works of charity and mercy 
 "lived securely in the habit of law-breaking, 
 " when a layman might have been punished for 
 " much less. 
 
 U 2
 
 292 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 "For people in the country to communicate 
 *' their grievances to the Court was a course beset 
 " with difficulties, especially when the suit affected 
 " the interests of the clergy. The emissaries of 
 *' the party from whom redress was sought would 
 "not be idle. Their superior influence would 
 " give them the advantage, and it was unlikely 
 " that the great ecclesiastics by whom the king 
 " was surrounded would decide against members 
 " of their own body. Such was the position in 
 " which the proud mistress of the castle was 
 "placed by the encroachments of monastic arro- 
 " gance. One night the fence separating twenty 
 " acres of rich pasture from the priory was thrown 
 " down, and when the lady's herdsmen attempted 
 " to drive their cattle on to the ground next 
 *' morning they were repulsed by armed retainers 
 " of the monastery. There was but one course 
 " open, and the lady hurried to the prior, informed 
 " him of the act of violence and trespass com- 
 " mitted by his servants, and demanded punish- 
 " ment for the offenders, with restitution for 
 " herself Indignation made her incoherent, 
 "and the smooth priest listened with a faint 
 " smile that was half a sneer playing about his 
 "lips. 
 
 " ' Peace, daughter ; calm yourself/ he said at 
 "'last, when she paused. 'If Holy Church 
 " requires the few acres you say were yours, is
 
 AN OMEN. 293 
 
 '' not Her word enough, and would you hesitate 
 " to freely offer them ? ' 
 
 " ' You claim them as your right, then, and 
 *' take upon yourself the guilt of the marauders % ' 
 '' she replied, incensed by his cool villainy. ' The 
 ** land was verily mine, as all know, before you 
 " robbed it from me. Show me your claim, holy 
 ''father, if you would have me render up my 
 " own.' 
 
 " The prior lost his self-control ; there w^as no 
 " one by to see. 
 
 '' ' Woman,' he cried, and upon his brow there 
 " settled a menacing expression, ' ask to see our 
 *' claim at your peril. Try to force it from us, 
 " and your ruin shall be speedy. Your vassals 
 " shall have licence to pillage and cheat you ; 
 " none shall owe you service or money payment ; 
 " even the weak protection of the law shall not 
 " avail in your behalf. Urge me not to extremi- 
 *' ties w^ith vain complaints, but go hence humbly 
 " accepting the justice that has been done.' 
 
 '' Before the threat of excommunication the 
 "lady cowered, and shrank back. The monk, 
 *' seeing his advantage, pursued it. 
 
 " ' Stronof measures are for heretics and bar- 
 " barians, not for delicate ladies,' he continued, 
 "allowing the smile to revisit the corners of his 
 " mouth, ' and you will not, I trust, court our 
 " unwilling anathema. Were it not pity to let
 
 294 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 ' folly go further, and then perhaps come off no 
 ' better ? Consider with 3^ourself, and be advised.' 
 
 " Thereupon he turned to his breviary, and 
 ' the lady, struggling with baffled rancour, 
 ' remained silent for awhile. When she spoke 
 ' again it was with altered mien, and her voice 
 ' had in it a ring of cunningly assumed dejection. 
 
 "'Your words are sharp, father, but they are 
 ' merited. If the Church demand aught from 
 ' me must I not straight give it up ? Then 
 ' pardon my rebellious spirit, and my late amends. 
 ' The notice has been brief, and I was unprepared. 
 ' But now that I comply, may the sacrifice win 
 ' me favour when it is most needed.' 
 
 "The lady had made up her mind, and her 
 ' submission was but feigned. As soon as she 
 ' reached home a secret messenger was despatched 
 ' to the sub-prior, entreating him for his intimacy 
 ' with the family at the castle to be present there 
 ' with the least possible delay. 
 
 " Father Silvester had been a courtier in former 
 ' days, and there were whispers of his dissolute 
 ' behaviour before he deserted the world for the 
 ' cloister. Now, however, he had embraced the 
 ' rigid austerity of his Order with the fervour of 
 ' a convert ; indeed, he seemed to burn with the 
 ' desire to make his unquenchable zeal outshine 
 ' even that of his superior. But if the gay 
 ' trickery of the gallant no longer clothed his
 
 AN OMEN. 295 
 
 ' exterior, the coarse monkish dress covered a 
 ' heart still amtated with intriorue, and burstino^ 
 ' with ambitious schemes for his own advance- 
 ' ment. Had there been any scandal against the 
 ' prior, Silvester was the one man who would 
 ' have been sure to know and treasure it. He 
 ' had risen fast to the second post in the little 
 ' community, and that only made him the more 
 ' eager to fill the first place. It was a grievance 
 ' to him that another should be his superior at 
 ' all, and the very fact of superiority made the 
 ' possessor of it his enemy. Self-seeking had 
 ' become with him so invincible a passion that 
 ' the single word jealousy might stand for a 
 ' definition of his whole character, since all the 
 ' rest was show. 
 
 " Long was he closeted with the lady of the 
 ' castle on that ill-omened day. His arrival and 
 ' departure were managed with such secrecy that 
 ' no one could have formed any suspicion which 
 ' might some day be communicated to the monks. 
 ' When he returned by a long circuit to the priory, 
 'it was with difficulty that he repressed the 
 ' signs of malicious triumph betrayed by his 
 ' excited looks and unwonted colour. ' Silence,' 
 ' he said to himself ; ' a little longer, and he will 
 ' be drawn into the net, and then my path is 
 ' clear.' 
 
 " As soon as he was composed he sought the
 
 296 ARNOLD ROBUK. 
 
 " prior, and conferred with him about one of the 
 *' brethren, a youth who had entered the mon- 
 "astery at a tender age, and was employed in the 
 '' Scriptorium at the work of transcribing, a good 
 " decipherer of glosses, and skilled in the miniature 
 " of Horae. 
 
 " ' A worthy librarian to succeed our venerable 
 " Brother Roger,' said the prior. ' What ails the 
 '* young man ? — I know him well/ 
 
 " ' Holy Father,' replied the other, ' you must 
 ^' know that he has become much shrunk of late, 
 " so that we almost doubt whether he be not a 
 " prey to some slow inward malady. So useful a 
 " member of our fraternity can ill be spared, and 
 "I humbly crave he may be absolved from 
 " domestic duties for a season, and have licence 
 " to wander in the open air at will to recover his 
 "youthful strength.' 
 
 "This speech had the intended effect. The 
 " young brother was summoned before his elders, 
 " and when the prior saw that he looked j^ale 
 " and spiritless he bade him refresh himself with 
 " bodily exercise, leaving the Scriptorium for a 
 " period of recreation. 
 
 " The object of this solicitude could not but be 
 " surprised by so novel a display of interest. He 
 " had been mouldering among the books for years, 
 " till it seemed as though his skin were suffering 
 " a transformation into parchment, and the gall
 
 AN OMEN. 297 
 
 '^ of bitterness, mixing with his blood, were turn- 
 " iDg it to ink. And yet these two holy men 
 "had taken no thought of him all the time. 
 "Temporary relief — nay, who knows but per- 
 " manent freedom — had come at last, then ; and 
 " he was glad at heart ; that heart which was yet 
 " to know what it meant to leap for joy within a 
 " liberated body. It seemed all too dreamlike to 
 "be true. Was he actually to behold and revel 
 " in the luxury of leisure and freedom while still 
 " in the flesh '? He had always thought — in his 
 " calm moments, when he was quiet and reasonable 
 '« — that this was some deferred hope only to be 
 " fulfilled in the eternal future of the spirit. The 
 " body must first be crushed by long labour and 
 " imprisonment, and the soul perform its journey 
 " through the land of the Dark Shadow, before 
 " fruition of the hope might be achieved. So had 
 "the iron entered into his soul. Was it not 
 "unnatural (he had asked himself) to expect 
 " anything difi'erent ? The spirit was entombed 
 " within its carnal shell ; in like manner was life 
 " here entombment, and this world a shroud. 
 "Did not the Apostle mean this when he said 
 " that the real life was hidden ? 
 
 " He had not always thought these things ; 
 " there were other moods, — moods which patience 
 "had made less frequent. Now, however, the 
 " old feelings revived. He could remember
 
 298 AENOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " nothing before his novitiate at the priory. He 
 " was so young when he was brought there that 
 " he had never known how it came about. That 
 " was in the time of the old prior and sub-prior. 
 '* He recollected them well. They had been kind 
 " to him, and for a while he was happy. The 
 " consciousness of his position had not dawned, 
 '' upon him. It came only too surely in the end, 
 " that cruel awakenino; • and he had understood 
 " how the vows taken in ignorance must be bind- 
 " ing upon him for life. ' Plush/ he had often 
 " whispered to himself when the voice which told 
 "him so would echo wildly through his soul; 'it 
 " will kill me ; I must oilence it, or resolve not 
 " to listen.' He had pored over the Scriptures, 
 " but it was labour in vain ; they did not counsel 
 "his incarceration in that hateful trap. The 
 " Lombard's Sentences could not reconcile him to 
 ' ' his fate ; the Consolation of Boetius had no con- 
 •' solation for him. But now in a moment the 
 "possibility of happiness had come. He longed 
 " once more for the w^orld outside ; the world of 
 " chivalry and stirring action ; the world of human 
 " intercourse and human love, without which that 
 "other were imnossible : he w^ould taste it all 
 " before he died. 
 
 " There was nothinor fresh or striking in the 
 " yearnings that almost tore his breast asunder, 
 " and he knew it well. Others had endured the
 
 AN OMEN. 299 
 
 " same before him, some fighting nobly till the 
 *' fiend's suggestions were overcome, and they 
 " could wait in peaceful resignation for their 
 " souls' enfranchisement. But few had experi- 
 " enced the sweets of living as it had been his 
 " lot to do at rare and stolen intervals. Once or 
 " twice a month his steps had strayed, when 
 " observation was impossible, to the bower in 
 " the hollow. Already he knew its lovely occu- 
 " pant, and her image between these visits never 
 "left him, till, goaded by its poignant spell, he 
 " felt that to look upon her was mad transport, 
 " to embrace her would be worth the having 
 " lived. 
 
 " Latterly, however, he had realised some- 
 " thing of the blank despair which must be the 
 " end of such empty self-delusion ; it was from 
 '' grief of this that he had pined, and lost his 
 " bloom. But at the prior's words prudence was 
 " in one instant gone, and every day he found 
 " occasion to hold soft communing with the saint 
 " who was enthroned within his heart. So the 
 " hours of happiness slipped by, the last that 
 '' were to fall to those twain upon earth. He 
 " had chafed under the enforced concealment of 
 " his wooing, and prayed earnestly for the day 
 " on which he might proclaim his love before the 
 " world. What must have been his elation, 
 " therefore, when the term was put to their
 
 300 ARNOLD ROBUK. 
 
 "sweet privacy. The morrow would see them 
 " free to wed, and live their lives in the sunshine 
 " of that sacred tie. 
 
 " They had planned flight for the next morn- 
 " ing early, while it was dusk. She was to leave 
 " the castle while its inmates slept, and meet 
 " him at the creek near the village below. There 
 " a boat would be in readiness, and with sails 
 " and oars they would betake them whither they 
 " could not be traced. 
 
 " ' My jewels will keep us till we reach a place 
 " of safety,' she had said, ' and we must look to 
 " Heaven to do the rest.' Then he told her that 
 " he too was not quite penniless, and showed the 
 " stone which he wore underneath, suspended 
 " from his neck. ' That must go last,' he said, 
 " ' for it is a charm, and hallowed.' But she paid 
 " little heed, and scarcely looked at it. They 
 " agreed to land at a spot not far from Burnport, 
 " and take horse thence to the capital. It was 
 "growing late when he bade her god-speed, and 
 " left the bower. As he did so he fancied two 
 " figures were moving rapidly away from him 
 " among the trees in the little copse. One of 
 " them might be a woman ; and the other wore 
 " the garb which he was soon to abjure. But he 
 " was occupied with his new hopes, and recked 
 " not of other things. Doubtless the vision of 
 " himself with his beloved one, impressed upon
 
 AN OMEN. 301 
 
 " his brain, had conjured itself into being there 
 '' before his eyes. 
 
 " Time presses, and my story is a long one ; 
 *' I must pass on more rapidly. 
 
 '' All day had been spent in battling with the 
 *'wind and water when the lovers neared their 
 " haven. They had eaten nothing since they 
 " started, and the maiden lay faint and numbed 
 *' at the bottom of the boat. Exhaustion had so 
 " told upon her that something warned the youth 
 " she must have warmth and shelter soon, or 
 " she would die. Weary as he was himself, he 
 " strained every muscle to keep their head 
 "straight for the point they would fain reach, 
 " and they were upon it too near to reverse their 
 " course, when his companion rose with a shriek, 
 " and pointed to a dark mass on the shore moving 
 " down towards them. It was a troop of horse- 
 " men, and the sub-prior was at their head. The 
 " waves threw the boat forward ; its passengers 
 " were captives once again. 
 
 " ' Ungrateful one,' said the priest, as the youth 
 " suffered himself to be bound without a word ; 
 " * this, then, is my return for all the anxious 
 " care I have bestowed upon your affairs. Rouse 
 '^ yourself, weak, sinful daughter,' he continued, 
 " shaking her inanimate and prostrate form with 
 *' rude familiarity. 
 
 " The youth ground his teeth together, but he
 
 302 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " was impotent. He was carried to a led horse, 
 " while the others gathered round his mistress. 
 " Hers was the better fate, and death had gently 
 '' loosed the virgin spirit from a vessel too pure 
 " for aught dishonouring. Trusty lay brethren 
 " were deputed to remain with the tender corpse, 
 " and convey it reverently home. This done, the 
 " sub-prior conducted the cavalcade back to the 
 " monastery, and the youth was thrust into a 
 "lonely cell to await his sentence. 
 
 " At midnight the monks were all astir, and 
 " every stall in the church was full as he was led 
 " in. The high-altar was draped in black, and 
 " a solemn requiem was chanted, for the quick 
 '' would soon be dead. On its conclusion the 
 " prior stood up, and arraigned the prisoner. 
 " He had traitorously rebelled against his vows, 
 " and the just wrath of God must be appeased. 
 " Instead of remaining steadfast, consecrated to 
 " the service of heaven, he had secretly hankered 
 " after the filthiness of the flesh ; he had touched 
 '•' the unclean thing, and must expiate his crime 
 " by death. By that way alone — the way of 
 " lingering starvation — could he hope to find 
 "the Divine Mercy, though it might well be 
 " thought that there could be no pity at the 
 " Throne of Grace for such misdeeds as his. 
 " The prior then gave the word to proceed to 
 " the caves. It was caught up by the throng,
 
 AN OMEN. 303 
 
 '' and ' To the Caves ! ' resounded on all sides 
 " with fatal though muffled distinctness. 
 
 " The wretched victim started, and fell upon 
 " his knees. 
 
 " ' Father, — ' he cried in his despair. 
 
 " ' Hence, child of Satan,' thundered the prior. 
 " ' Call not me father, vile spawn of hell.' He 
 " waved his hand, and the procession moved 
 " forward to a loud and jubilant strain. 
 
 ' Pange lingua gloriosi 
 Proelium certarainis.' 
 
 " As the last notes of the hymn died away 
 " along; the cavernous roof the stones were 
 '' already being laid just wdiere the door now 
 " stands wdiich roused your curiosity. A solid 
 " barrier w^as soon raised, and the j^rioi' pro- 
 " nounced sentence of excommunication upon any 
 " one wdio should attempt to meddle w^ith it. 
 " The monks had a superstitious dread of the 
 " place, and speedily retreated to their distant 
 " quarters. 
 
 " Three days later, w^hen the religious house 
 *' had begun to settle down to its old routine, 
 " the lady of the castle made her appearance 
 " again before the prior. He w^as about to 
 " express sympathy with her bereavement 
 " when she interrupted him by a contemptuous 
 " gesture.
 
 304 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " ' Peace, unliappy man,' she said ; ' keep your 
 ' ill-timed pity for yourself. Have you no 
 ' thought of the innocent boy whom you have 
 ' buried alive ? ' 
 
 " A sudden panic seized the object of this 
 ' taunt, and robbed him of the power to rebuke 
 ' her insolence. 
 
 " ' A profligate, a traitor to his Order, he was 
 ' nothing to me,'* he gasped. 
 
 " ' He was your son,' replied the lady, in an 
 ' icy tone ; ' the union which he sought was 
 ' with his own half-sister.' 
 
 " The prior's lips moved, but nothing came 
 ' from them. 
 
 " ' When he was born, a month after my 
 'marriage,' she continued, 'I gave him to an 
 ' aged dame who was bound to me by strong 
 ' interest, and she brought up the child until she 
 ' died. I sent him to the monastery, and he 
 'had taken the vows before he knew their im- 
 ' port. Ask old Roger ; he will bear me out in 
 ' this. Your infidelity could not drive me to 
 ' the step which I have taken. Even though 
 ' it hurt me once, I never let it urge me to injure 
 ' you. But when you took away my land, and 
 ' threatened me, I thirsted to strike the blow 
 ' that has been in my power so long, and now I 
 ' have my revenge.' 
 
 " Her calculated coolness throughout was doing
 
 AN OMEN. 305 
 
 " its work ; she could see how every stab told on 
 " him. 
 
 '' ' A lying tale, woman,' he said at last, and 
 " his voice was very tremulous and hollow. ' The 
 " dame is dead, and you have no proof.' But all 
 " the time his conscience knew the truth, and 
 "that her words coDtained it. 
 
 " ' There was a gem in my possession which 
 " you have seen.' An involuntary movement 
 *' showed how he remembered it. She enjoyed 
 '*his agony for a moment, and went on. ' Upon 
 " it were eng^raved the initials of the two names 
 " by which we called each other then. Under 
 " the most favourable conjunction of Jupiter and 
 " the Sun I set it apart for an amulet, and when 
 " the boy left his foster-mother he wore it round 
 **his neck. Judge whether it be there still, or 
 "the needs of the Church have required it of 
 " him.' 
 
 " It was her parting gibe, and for a time he 
 "remained sitting in a stupor, as she had left 
 "him. Father Silvester found him later tear- 
 " ing: with bleedino; fing-ers at the stones which 
 " blocked up the entrance to the caves. His 
 " muttered prayers and groans prevented him 
 " from hearing the intruder, and it was only 
 " when the latter plucked him by the shoulder 
 " that he turned round to confront him, uttering 
 " as he did so an exclamation of horror. 
 
 VOL. I. x
 
 306 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 " ' Child of Satan tliougii he was, your blood 
 ''ran in his veins after all, it seems.' There was 
 " mocking irony in the sub-prior's voice, and his 
 " miserable victim made as though he would 
 " have struck him to the earth. The other 
 " stepped back hastily, and produced a crowbar 
 " and pickaxe which were concealed in a dark 
 " corner. The prior forgot his resentment, and 
 "seizing one of the tools, began to loosen the 
 " stones from the mortar in wdiich they were 
 
 " embedded. 
 
 " ' Quick,' he cried, ' even yet he may be 
 " living. Hark ; I hear him call.' 
 
 " Silvester hesitated. Could it be ? Tush ! 
 " these were the idle ravings of a lunatic. They 
 " worked on together at the breach, the prior 
 " getting through as soon as it was large enough 
 " to admit him. His colleague watched him 
 " eagerly for a moment as he peered about with 
 " his lantern, and then stole back through the 
 " church into the monastery. Hurriedly collect- 
 " ing the monks, he hastened w^ith them to the 
 " caves. Looking through the opening they saw 
 *' the prior stretched upon the ground beside the 
 " emaciated form of the murdered youth. The 
 " sub-prior entered to gaze upon the pair. The 
 " son's body was still warm, and the father had 
 " fainted upon it. A few seconds' earlier relief
 
 . AX OMEN. 3U7 
 
 " miglit not have been vain. Silvester stooped, 
 " and unclasped the amulet from the dead man's 
 " neck, slipping it from the chain which the 
 " prior's hand clutched firmly. Then he came 
 " softly to the brethren, and explained to them 
 " the whole strange sight. He showed them the 
 " lady's jewel, and made them understand the 
 " initials which it bore. The circle of proof was 
 '' completed by the discovery of the implements 
 " brought there, so said the sub-prior, by the 
 " guilty wretch in stealth that he might privily 
 " rescue his flesh and blood. 
 
 " The monks were satisfied, and sorrowfully 
 " obeyed when their superior bade then assist in 
 " closing up the breach again. 
 
 " ' They have been separated for a life-time,' 
 " he concluded ; ' let them rot together ; and 
 " may the excommunication which he j^ronounced 
 " be upon his own head,' he muttered between 
 *' his teeth. 
 
 * * * * ^ 
 
 " ' Men say that the great rift in the rock 
 *' above our heads was caused by an earthquake 
 " on the very night when the dead and living 
 " were sealed up here for company. The rent is 
 *' only thirty feet deep, and could give no way of 
 *' escape to the dying man even had he wished 
 " for it. The barricade of stones remained for 
 
 X 2
 
 308 ARNOLD ROBUR. 
 
 '* years ; and wlieii it fell to pieces the siipersti- 
 " tion of a new generation of monks set up this 
 " massive door in its place to shut in the ghosts 
 " of the starved prisoners. A sad memorial of 
 '^ crime and violence, it has lasted in the place 
 " ever since. But of the two who perished then 
 ^' at least one was innocent, and we may trust 
 " has found such sustenance and glorious liberty 
 " as he never dreamed of upon earth at the 
 " eternal Marriage-Supper.' " 
 
 The old man ceased, and for a minute or two 
 the silence was unbroken. Arnold had seen the 
 tears stand in Ursula's eyes more than once 
 during their guide's narrative. At its close 
 something seemed to sparkle for a moment at 
 her feet. The dry sand was greedy of such 
 offerings, and it had faded before Arnold could 
 trace its origin. But Heaven does not permit 
 its creatures to be more gracious than itself, and 
 for every drop of compassion shed by human 
 eyes rains down a plenteous stream of loving- 
 kindness upon our petty toil and suffering. 
 
 The air was radiant as they descended the hill, 
 and the sea lay in a purple calm. Whatever 
 secrets lay underneath, its surface was unwrinkled 
 and expressionless. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Miss Hilda, as the clergy-
 
 AN OMEN". 309 
 
 man assisted her into the carriage, ^' we owe you 
 so much gratitude for your pretty story. Poor 
 young things ; I declare I can hardly get their 
 sad lot out of my head." 
 
 She enjoyed a pleasant doze during the drive 
 home, as the others for some reason or other 
 were not inclined to talk. Perhaps the interest 
 attaching to the caves had taken even firmer 
 hold of their heads than it had of the Mother 
 Superior's. 
 
 It may have been that in the ironical game of 
 hide-and-seek which Fate never tires of playing 
 with us some presage of a deeper ground for 
 their sympathy was darkly present in the minds 
 of the three others, a faint suspicion of analogy 
 between the future that w^as yet in store for 
 them and that dim legendary outline of the past. 
 Had they been listening to a necromantic casting 
 of their own horoscopes % The feeling was scarcely 
 strong enough to do more than suggest the 
 notion. They could almost believe themselves 
 to be within guessino; distance of the truth. But 
 Fate was obdurate, and having lured them to 
 the pursuit, would give no further clue. Never- 
 theless, prodigal though she be of details, her 
 poverty in conceiving general outlines is so 
 remarkable that it is a wonder she is not caught 
 more often quite early in the game. And so she
 
 310 ARNOLD EOBUR. 
 
 might be, were it not for her crafty delusion of 
 each of us into emphasising unwarily the peculi- 
 arity of our details, and for the difficulties she 
 throws in the way of our getting a sweeping 
 survey of our lives with their various environ- 
 ments through the telescope of some exterior 
 observatory.^ J^ 
 
 END OF VOLUME I.