第4章

ThroughoutthelongwatchesofthenightIfollowthem；andintheearlymorningtheyslideby，theireyespaleinthetwilight；whilethestarsflickerandfade，andthegaslampsdiedownintoadullyellowblotchagainstthegloryandglowofanewday。

CHAPTERII

FEBRUARYishere，Februaryfill-dyke；themonthofpurification，ofcleansingrainsandpulsingboundingstreams，andwhitemistclinginginsistenttofieldandhedgerowsothatwhenherveiliswithdrawngreennessmaymakeusglad。

Theriverhasbeenuniformlygreyoflate，withnowindtoruffleitssurfaceortospeedthebargesdroppingslowlyandsullenlydownwiththetidethroughablurringhaze。Iwatchedoneyesterday，itsuselesssailshalf-furledandnosignoflifesavethemanatthehelm。Itdriftedstealthilypast，andalittlebehind，flyinglow，cameasolitaryseagull，greyastheriver\'shaze-afollowingbird。

OnceagainIlayonmybackinthebottomofthetarryoldfishingsmack，blueskyaboveandnosoundbuttheknock，knockofthewaves，andthethudandcurloffallingfoamastheoldboat\'sbluntnosebreastedthecomingsea。ThenDaddyWhiddonspoke。

"Afollerin\'burrd，"hesaid。

Igotup，andlookedacrossthebluefieldwewereploughingintowhitefurrows。Farawayatinysailscarredthegreatsolitude，andasterncameagullflyingslowlyclosetothewater\'sbreast。

DaddyWhiddonwavedhispipetowardsit。

"Afollerin\'burrd，"hesaid，again；andagainIwaited；questionswerenotgratefultohim。

"Therebeacarpsethere，sureenough，acarpsedriftin\'andshiftin\'onthefloorofthesea。Therebethoseascan\'trest，poorsawls，andher\'llbemun，her\'llbemun，andthesperritofheriswiththeburrd。"

Theclumsyboomswungacrossaswechangedourcourse，andthewaterranfromusinsmoothreachesoneitherside:thebirdflewsteadilyon。

"Whatwillthespiritdo？"Isaid。

Theoldmanlookedatmegravely。

"Her\'llrestintheLard\'stime，intheLard\'sgudetime-butnowher\'lljustbefollerin\'onwiththeburrd。"

Thegullwasflyingclosetousnow，andacoldwindsweptthesunnysea。Ishivered:Daddylookedatmecuriously。

"Therebereasonenoughtobecawldifusdidbutknawit，butIhemos\'usedto\'em，poorsawls。"Heshadedhiskeenoldblueeyes，andlookedawayacrossthewater。Hisfacekindled。"Therebeaskulecomin\'，andbymysawl\'tismackereltheybedrivin\'。"

Iwatchedeagerly，andsawthedarklineriseandfallinthetroughofthesea，and，awaybehind，thestirandrushoftumblingporpoisesastheychasedtheirprey。

Againwechangedourtack，andeachtakinganoar，pulledlustilyforthebeach。

"PleaseGodher\'llbreakinshore，"saidDaddyWhiddon；andheshoutedthenewstotheidlewaitingmenwhohailedus。

Inamomentallwasstir，forthefishinghadbeenslack。Twoboatsputoutwiththelithebrownseine。Thedarklinehadturned，buttheschoolwasstillbehind，churningthewaterinclumsyhaste；theywerecomingin。

Thenthebritbrokeinsilveryleapingwavesontheshelvingbeach。

Thethreefoldhuntwasover；theporpoisesturnedouttoseainsearchoffreshquarry；andtheseine，draggedbyreadyhands，cameslowly，stubbornlyinwithitsquiveringtreasureoffish。Theyhadsoughtahavenandfoundnone；thebritlaydyinginflickeringiridescentheapsasthebare-leggedbabiesofthevillagegatheredthemup；andfarawayoverthewaterIsawasinglegreyspeck；itwasthefollowingbird。

Thecurtainofriverhazefallsback；bargeandbirdarealikegone，andthelamplighterhaslitthefirstgas-lamponthefarsideofthebridge。EverynightIwatchhimcome，hisprogressmarkedbythegreatyelloweyesthatwakethedark。Sometimeshewalksquickly；sometimesheloitersonthebridgetochat，orstareatthedarkwater；buthealwayscomes，leavinghiswatchfuldeterrenttrainbehindhimtopolicethenight。

OnceDemeterintheblackanguishofherdesolationsearchedforlostPersephonebythelightofHecate\'storch；andsearchingallinvain，spurnedbeneathheremptyfeetanearthbarrenofhersmile；frozewithsetbrowsthemerrybrooksandstreams；andsmoteforest，andplain，andfruitfulfield，withthebreathofherlastdespair，untilevenIambe\'slaughingjestwasstill。Andthenwhenthedesolationwascomplete，acrossthewastedvalleywherethestarvelingcattlescarcelylongedtobrowse，camethedreadfulchariot-andPersephone。ThedayoftheprisonerofHadeshaddawned；andasthesunflamedslowlyuptolightherthwartedeyestheworldsprangintoblossomatherfeet。

WecanneverbetooPaganwhenwearetrulyChristian，andtheoldmythsareeternaltruthsheldfastintheChurch\'snet。PrometheusfetchedfirefromHeaven，tobeslainforeverinthefetching；andlo，aGreaterthanPrometheuscametofirethecressetoftheCross。Demeterwaitsnowpatientlyenough。Persephonewaits，too，inthefaithofthesunshecannotsee:andeverylamplitcarriesonthecrusadewhichhasforitsgoalasunless，moonless，citywhoselightistheLightoftheworld。

"Lumeelassu，chevisibilefacelocreatoreaquellacreatura，chesoloinluivederehalasuapace。"

Immediatelyoutsidemywindowisalimetree-alittleblackskeletonofabundantbranches-inwhichsparrowscongregatetochirpandbicker。FartherawayIhaveaglimpseofgracefulplanes，childrenofmoonlightandmist；theirdaintyrobes，stillmoreorlessunsullied，gleamghostlyinthegaslightathwartthedark。Theymakeabraveshoweveninwinterwiththeirfeatherybranchesandswingingtassels，whereasmylittletreestandsstarkanduncompromising，withitshordeofsootysparrowscockneytothelasttailfeather，andapatheticinabilitytolookanythingbutblack。Raincomeswithstrongcaressingfingers，andthebranchesseemnowhitthecleanerforhercare；butthentheirglisteningblacknessmirrorsbackthesucceedingsunlight，asamuddypavementwillsometimeslapourfeetinaseaofgold。Thelittlewetsparrowsareforthemomentequallytransformed，forthesunturnstheirdun-colouredcoatstoaruddybronze，andcriesChrysostomasitkisseseachshinybeak。TheyaredumbChrysostoms；buttheypreachagoldengospel，forthesparrowsaretoLondonwhattherainbowwastoeightsavedsoulsoutofawasteofwaters-aperpetualsignoftherememberingmerciesofGod。

Lastnighttherewasasuddenclatterofhoofs，ashout，andthensilence。Arunawaycab-horse，adarknight，awidecrossing，andaheavyburden:sodeathcametoapoorwoman。Peoplefromthehousewentouttohelp；andIheardofher，thecentreofanunknowingcuriouscrowd，asshelaybonnetlessinthemudoftheroad，herheadonthekerb。Arudebutpainlessdeath:themiserylayinherlife；forthiswoman-worn，white-haired，andwrinkled-hadbutfiftyyearstosetagainstsuchacondition。Thepolicemanreportedherrespectable，hard-working，livingapartfromherhusbandwithasister；butalthoughtheysharedrooms，they"didnotspeak，"andthesisterrefusedallresponsibility；sotheparishburiedthedeadwoman，andthusendedanuneventfultragedy。

Wasitherownfault？Ifso，thegreaterpathos。Thelonelysoulsthatholdouttimidhandstoanunheedingworldhavetheirmeedofinteriorcomfortevenhere，whilethesonsofconsolationwaitonthethresh-holdfortheirfootfall:butGodhelpthesoulthatbarsitsowndoor！ItiskickingagainstthepricksofDivineordinance，theordinanceofatriuneGod；whetheritbethedwellerincrowdedstreetortenementwhoisproudtosay，"Ikeepmyselftomyself，"orSenecawritinginpitifulcomplacency，"WheneverI

havegoneamongmen，Ihavereturnedhomelessofaman。"Whateverthenextworldholdsinstore，wearebiddeninthistoseekandserveGodinourfellow-men，andinthecreaturesofHismakingwhomHecallsbyname。

Itwasoncemyprivilegetoknowanoldorgan-grindernamedGawdine。Hewasahardswearer，aharddrinker，ahardliver，andhefortifiedhimselfbodyandsoulagainsttheworld:heevendrankalone，whichisanevilsign。

OnedaytoGawdinesobercamealittledirtychild，whoclungtohisemptytrouserleg-hehadlostalimbyearsbefore-withapersistentunintelligiblerequest。Heshookthelittlechapoffwithablowandacurse；andthechildwastrottingdismallyaway，whenitsuddenlyturned，ranback，andheldupadirtyfaceforakiss。

TwodayslaterGawdinefellunderapassingdraywhichinflictedterribleinternalinjuriesonhim。Theypatchedhimupinhospital，andhewentbacktohisorgan-grinding，takingwithhimtwofriends-apainwhichfellsuddenlyuponhimtorackandrendwithananguishofcrucifixion，andthememoryofachild\'supturnedface。Outwardlyhewasthesamesavethathechangedthetunesofhisorgan，outoflong-hoardedsavings，forthejigsandreelswhichchildrenholddear，andstoodpatientlyplayingtheminchild-crowdedalleys，wherepenniesarenotasplentifulaselsewhere。

Hecontinuedtodrink；itdidnotcomewithinhisnewcodetostop，sincehecould"carryhisliquorwell；"butherarely，ifever，swore。Hetoldmethistalethroughthethroesofhisanguishashelaycrouchedonamattressonthefloor；andasthegripofthepaintookhimhetoreandbitathishandsuntiltheyweremaimedandbleeding，tokeepthereadycursesoffhislips。

Hetoldthestory，buthegavenoreason，offerednoexplanation:

hehasbeendeadnowmanyayear，andthuswouldIwritehisepitaph:-

HesawthefaceofalittlechildandlookedonGod。

CHAPTERIII

"TWObegan，inalowvoice，\'Why，thefactis，yousee，Miss，thishereoughttohavebeenaREDrose-tree，andweputawhiteoneinbymistake。\'"

AsIlookroundthisroomIfeelsureTwo，andFive，andSeven，haveallbeenatworkonit，andmadenomistakes，forroundthewallsrunsafriezeofsquatstandardrose-trees，redasredcanbe，andjustlikethosethatAlicesawintheQueen\'sgarden。InbetweenthemareChaucer\'sname-children，primlittledaisies，peeringwideawakefromgreengrass。ThissamegrasshasahistorywhichIhaveheard。Intheoriginalstencilforthefriezeitwaspurelyconventionalliketherest，andmetinspikeycurvesroundeachtree；thepainter，however，whowasdoingthework，wasaloverofthefields；andfeelingthatsuchgrasswasatravesty，headdedonhisownaccountdaintylittletussocks，andsoftenedthehardlineintoatuftedcarpet，thegrassgrowingirregularly，bentatwillbythewind。

Theresultfromthestandpointofconventionalartisindeeddisastrous；butmysympathyandgratitudearewiththepainter。I

see，ashesaw，thefar-reachingrobeoflivingineffablegreen，ofwhosebrilliancetheeyeneverhastoomuch，andinwhoseweftnotwothreadsarealike；andshrinkashedidfromtheconventionalisingofthatwindsweptglory。

Theseahasitscrestedwavesofrecognisableform；theriveritseddyandswirlandseparatevortices；butthegrass！Thewindblowethwhereitlistethandthegrassbowsasthewindblows-

"thoucanstnottellwhitheritgoeth。"Ittakesnopattern，itobeysnorecognisedlaw；itislikeabeautifulcreatureofathousandwaywardmoods，anditsvoiceislikenothingelseinthewideworld。Itbidsyourestandburyyourtiredfaceinthegreencoolness，andbreatheofitsbreathandofthebreathofthegoodearthfromwhichmanwastakenandtowhichhewillonedayreturn。

Then，ifyoulendyourearandaresilentminded，youmayhearwondrousthingsofthedeepplacesoftheearth；oflifeinmineralandstoneaswellasinpulsingsap；ofagreenworldasthestarssawitbeforemantroditunderfoot-oftheemeraldwhichhasitsplacewiththerestintheCityofGod。

"WhatifearthBebuttheshadowofheaven，andthingstherein，Eachtoeachotherlike，morethanonearthtothought？"

Itisanaturalpartofcivilisation\'slustofre-arrangementthatweshouldbesoreadytoconventionalisethebeautyofthisworldintodecorativepatternsforourpilgrimtents。Itisaphase，andwillmeltintootherphases；butittendstotheincreaseofartificiality，andexistsnotonlyinartbutineverything。Itisnonewthingforjadedsentimenttocravethespuroftheunnatural，topreferthecleverimitation，toliveinaDevachanwherethesurroundingsappearthatwhichwewouldhavethemtobe；

butitisaninterestingrecordofthepulseofthepresentdaythat\'AnEnglishwoman\'sLoveLetters\'shouldhavetakensocietybystorminthewayitcertainlyhas。

Itisadelightfulbooktoleaveabout，withitsvellumbinding，daintyribbons，andthehallmarkofagreatpublisher\'sname。Butwhenweseekwithinwefindlovewithitsthousandvoicesandwaywardmoods，itsshygracesandseemlyreticences，lovewhichhasitsthroneandrobeofstateaswellasthegarmentofthebeggarmaid，lovewhichisbeforetimewas，whichknewtheworldwhenthestarstookuptheircourses，presentedtousingushingoutpourings，theappropriatelanguageofawoman\'shearttotheboorshedelightstohonour。

"Itiswomanwhoisthegloryofman，"saystheauthorof\'TheHouseofWisdomandLove，\'"REGINAMUNDI，greater，becausesofartheless；andmanisherhead，butonlyasheserveshisqueen。"

Setthissoberaphorismagainsttheschoolgirllove-makingwhichkissesaman\'sfeetandgailyrefuseshimthebarrenhonourofhavinglovedherfirst。

Thereisscantneedfortheapologiawhichprecedestheletters；afewpagesdispelsthefearthatwearepryingintoanother\'ssoul。

Asfortheauthorship，thereisawoman\'sinfluence，anartist\'spoorlyconcealedbiasintheforeignletters；andfortherestaman\'sblunders-somucheasiertoseeinanotherthantoavoidoneself-writlargefromcovertocover。KingCophetua，whosends"profoundlygratefulremembrances，"hasmostsurelywrittenthelettershewouldwishtoreceive。

"MrsMeynell！"criesonereviewer，triumphantly。Nay，thesaintsbegoodtous，whathasMrsMeynellincommonwiththe"Englishwoman\'s"language，style，ormostunconvincingpassion？

Mencanwriteasfromawoman\'sheartwhentheyaremindedtodosoindesperateearnestness-thereisClarissaHarloweandStevenson\'sKirstie，andmanymoretoproveit；butwhenamanwritesastheauthorofthe"LoveLetters"writes，Ifeel，asdidthepainterofthefrieze，thatpattern-makinghasgonetoofarandincludedthatwhich，likethegrass，shouldbesparedsuchaconvention。

"Iquiteagreewithyou，"saidtheDuchess，"andthemoralofthatis-\'Bewhatyouwouldseemtobe\'-or，ifyou\'dliketoputitmoresimply-\'neverimagineyourselfnottobeotherwisethanwhatitmightappeartoothersthatwhatyouwereormighthavebeenwasnototherwisethanwhatyouhadbeenwouldhaveappearedtothemtobeotherwise。\'"AndsobywayoftheQueen\'sgardenIcomebacktomyroomagain。

Myheart\'saffectionsarestillcentredonmyoldattic，withboardedfloorandwhite-washedwalls，wherethesunblazonedafriezeofredandgolduntilhetravelledtoofartowardsthenorth，themoonstreamedintopaintthetreesininkywaveringshadows，andthestarsflashedtheirglorytomeacrosstheyears。

Butnowsunandmoongreetmeonlyindirectly，andundertheredroseshangpictures，someofthemthedearcompanionsofmydays。

OppositemeistheArundelprintofthePresentation，paintedbythegentle"BrotheroftheAngels。"PriestSimeon，astatelyfigureingreenandgold，greatwithprophecy，gazesadoringlyattheBambinoheholdswithfatherlycare。OurLady，inrobeofredandveilofshadowedpurple，isinstinctwithlightdespitethesombrecolouring，asshestretchesouthungering，awe-struckhandsforhersoul\'sdelight。StJoseph，dignifiedguardianandservitor，standsbehind，holdingtheSacrificeofthePoortoredeemtheFirst-begotten。

StPeterMartyrandtheDominicannun，gazinginraptcontemplationatthescene，arenotonewhitsurprisedtofindthemselvesinthepresenceofeternalmysteries。IntheEntombment，whichhangsontheoppositewall，StDominiccomesroundthecornerfullofgrievousamazeandtenderestsympathy，butwithnosenseofshockorintrusion，forwashenot"famigliardiCristo"？Andsohetakesitallin；thestonebedemptyandwaiting；theBelovedcradledforthelasttimeonHismother\'skneestobewashed，lappedround，andlaidtorestasifHewereagaintheBabeofBethlehem。HeseestheMagdalenanointingtheSacredFeet；BlessedJohncaringforthelivingandtheDead；andhe，Dominic-houndoftheLord-havinghisreal，livingshareintheanguishandhope，thebeddingofthedearestDead，whodidbutleavethisearththatHemightmanifestHimselfmorecompletely。

Underneath，withaleapacrossthecenturies，isRossetti\'spicture；Dantethistimetheonlooker，Beatrice，inherpalebeauty，thedeath-kissedone。Thesameideaunderdifferentrepresentations；theoneconceivedinchildlikesimplicity，theotherrecalling，eveninthephotograph，itswealthofcolourandimagining；theoneaworld-wideideal，theotheranindividualexpressionofit。

BeatricewastoDantetheinclusionofbelief。Shewasmoretohimthanhehimselfknew，farmoretohimafterherdeaththanbefore。

And，therefore，theanalogybetweenthepictureshasatcoreacommonreality。"ItisexpedientforyouthatIgoaway，"isconstantlybeingsaidtousasweclingearthliketotheoutwardexpression，ratherthantotheinwardmanifestation-andblessedarethosewhohearandunderstand，foritisspokenonlytosuchashavebeenwithHimfromthebeginning。Theeternalmysteriescomeintotimeforusindividuallyunderwidelydifferingforms。Thetinychildmothersitsdoll，croonstoit，spendsherselfuponit，whyshecannottellyou；andwewhoarehereinourextremeyouth，nevertobemenandwomengrowninthisworld，nurseourideal，exchangeit，refashionit，callitbymanynames；andatlastinhereorhereafterwefindinitsnakedtruththeChildinthemanger，evenastheWiseMenfoundHimwhentheycamefromtheEasttoseekagreatKing。Thereisbutonenecessaryconditionofthisfinding；wemustfollowtheparticularmanifestationoflightgivenus，neverrestinguntilitrests-overtheplaceoftheChild。

Andthereisbutoneinsurmountablehindrance，theextinctionofordrawingbackfromthelighttrulyapprehendedbyus。Weforgetthis，andjudgeothermenbythelightofourownsoul。

Ithinktheoldbishopmusthaveunderstoodit。Heismyfriendoffriendsasheliesoppositemywindowinhisalabastersleep，cladinpontificalrobes，withunshodfeet，alittleislandofwhitepeaceinamany-colouredmarblesea。Thefaithfulsculptorhasgiveneverylineandwrinkle，theheavyeyelidsandsunkenfaceoftiredoldage，butwithalthesmileofacontentedchild。