第1章

PARTI

Suchadaymadegladtheheart。AlltheflagsofJulywerewaving;

thesunandthepoppiesflaming;whitebutterfliesspiringupandtwining，andthebeesbusyonthesnapdragons。Thelime—treeswerecomingintoflower。Tallwhiteliliesinthegardenbedsalreadyrivaledthedelphiniums;theYorkandLancasterroseswerefull—blownroundtheirgoldenhearts。Therewasagentlebreeze，andaswishandstirandhumroseandfellabovetheheadofEdwardPierson，comingbackfromhislonelyrambleoverTinternAbbey。HehadarrivedatKestrel，hisbrotherRobert’shomeonthebankoftheWyeonlythatmorning，havingstayedatBathonthewaydown;andnowhehadgothisfaceburntinthatparti—colouredwaypeculiartothefacesofthosewhohavebeentoolonginLondon。Ashecamealongthenarrow，ratherovergrownavenue，thesoundofawaltzthrummedoutonapianofellonhisears，andhesmiled，formusicwasthegreatestpassionhehad。Hisdarkgrizzledhairwaspushedbackoffhishotbrow，whichhefannedwithhisstrawhat。Thoughnotbroad，thatbrowwasthebroadestpartofanarrowovalfacewhoselengthwasincreasedbyashort，dark，pointedbeard——avisagesuchasVandykmighthavepainted，graveandgentle，butforitsbrightgreyeyes，cinder—lashed。andcrow’s—footed，anditsstrangelookofnotseeingwhatwasbeforeit。Hewalkedquickly，thoughhewastiredandhot;tall，upright，andthin，inagreyparsonicalsuit，onwhoseblackkerseymerevestalittlegoldcrossdangled。

Abovehisbrother’shouse，whoseslopinggardenrandowntotherailwaylineandriver，alargeroomhadbeenbuiltoutapart。

Piersonstoodwheretheavenueforked，enjoyingthesoundofthewaltz，andthecoolwhippingofthebreezeinthesycamoresandbirches。Amanoffifty，withasenseofbeauty，bornandbredinthecountry，suffersfearfullyfromnostalgiaduringalongunbrokenspellofLondon;sothathisafternoonintheoldAbbeyhadbeenalmostholy。Hehadlethissensessinkintothesunlitgreeneryofthetoweringwoodsopposite;hehadwatchedthespidersandthelittleshiningbeetles，theflycatchers，andsparrowsintheivy;

touchedthemossesandthelichens;lookedthespeedwellsintheeye;

dreamedofheknewnotwhat。Ahawkhadbeenwheelingupthereabovethewoods，andhehadbeenuptherewithitintheblue。Hehadtakenarealspiritualbath，andwashedthedustyfretofLondonoffhissoul。

Forayearhehadbeenworkinghisparishsingle—handed——nojoke——

forhiscuratehadgoneforachaplain;andthiswashisfirstrealholidaysincethewarbegan，twoyearsago;hisfirstvisit，too，tohisbrother’shome。Helookeddownatthegarden，andupatthetreesoftheavenue。BobhadfoundaperfectretreatafterhisquarterofacenturyinCeylon。DearoldBob！Andhesmiledatthethoughtofhiselderbrother，whoseburntfaceandfiercegreywhiskerssomewhatrecalledaBengaltiger;thekindestfellowthateverbreathed！Yes，hehadfoundaperfecthomeforThirzaandhimself。AndEdwardPiersonsighed。Hetoohadoncehadaperfecthome，aperfectwife;thewoundofwhosedeath，fifteenyearsago，stillbledalittleinhisheart。Theirtwodaughters，GratianandNoel，hadnot\"takenafter\"her;Gratianwaslikehisownmother，andNoel’sfairhairandbiggreyeyesalwaysremindedhimofhiscousinLeila，who——poorthing！——hadmadethatsadmessofherlife，andnow，hehadheard，wassingingforaliving，inSouthAfrica。Ah！WhataprettygirlshehadbeenDrawnbythateternalwaltztunehereachedthedoorwayofthemusic—

room。Achintzcurtainhungthere，andtothesoundoffeetslippingonpolishedboards，hesawhisdaughterNoelwaltzingslowlyinthearmsofayoungofficerinkhaki:Roundandroundtheywent，circling，backing，movingsidewayswithcuriousstepswhichseemedtohavecomeinrecently，forhedidnotrecognisethem。AtthepianosathisnieceEve，withateasingsmileonherrosyface。ButitwasathisyoungdaughterthatEdwardPiersonlooked。Hereyeswerehalf—closed，hercheeksratherpale，andherfairhair，cutquiteshort，curledintoherslimroundneck。Quitecoolsheseemed，thoughtheyoungmaninwhosearmsshewasglidingalonglookedfieryhot;ahandsomeboy，withblueeyesandalittlegoldendownontheupperlipofhissunnyred—cheekedface。EdwardPiersonthought:

’Nicecouple！’Andhadamoment’svisionofhimselfandLeila，dancingatthatlong—agoCambridgeMayWeek——onherseventeenthbirthday，heremembered，sothatshemusthavebeenayearyoungerthanNolliewasnow！Thiswouldbetheyoungmanshehadtalkedofinherlettersduringthelastthreeweeks。Weretheynevergoingtostop？

Hepassedintoviewofthosewithin，andsaid:

\"Aren’tyouveryhot，Nollie？\"

Sheblewhimakiss;theyoungmanlookedstartledandself—

conscious，andEvecalledout:

\"It’sabet，Uncle。They’vegottodancemedown。\"

Piersonsaidmildly:

\"Abet？Mydears！\"

Noelmurmuredoverhershoulder:

\"It’sallright，Daddy！\"Andtheyoungmangasped:

\"She’sbetusoneofherpuppiesagainstoneofmine，sir！\"

Piersonsatdown，alittlehypnotizedbythesleepystrumming，theslowgiddymovementofthedancers，andthosehalf—closedswimmingeyesofhisyoungdaughter，lookingathimoverhershoulderasshewentby。Hesatwithasmileonhislips。Nolliewasgrowingup！

NowthatGratianwasmarried，shehadbecomeagreatresponsibility。

Ifonlyhisdearwifehadlived！Thesmilefadedfromhislips;helookedsuddenlyverytired。Thestruggle，physicalandspiritual，hehadbeenthrough，thesefifteenyears，sometimesweighedhimalmosttotheground:Mostmenwouldhavemarriedagain，buthehadalwaysfeltitwouldbesacrilege。Realunionswereforever，eventhoughtheChurchpermittedremarriage。

Hewatchedhisyoungdaughterwithamixtureofaestheticpleasureandperplexity。Couldthisbegoodforher？Togoondancingindefinitelywithoneyoungmancouldthatpossiblybegoodforher？

Buttheylookedveryhappy;andtherewassomuchinyoungcreaturesthathedidnotunderstand。Noel，soaffectionate，anddreamy，seemedsometimespossessedofalittledevil。EdwardPiersonwasnaif;attributedthoseoutburstsofdemonicpossessiontothelossofhermotherwhenshewassuchamite;Gratian，buttwoyearsolder，hadnevertakenamother’splace。Thathadbeenlefttohimself，andhewasmoreorlessconsciousoffailure。

Hesattherelookingupatherwithasortofwhimsicaldistress。

And，suddenly，inthatdaintyvoiceofhers，whichseemedtospurneachwordalittle，shesaid:

\"I’mgoingtostop！\"and，sittingdownbesidehim，tookuphishattofanherself。

Evestruckatriumphantchord。\"HurrahI’vewon！\"

Theyoungmanmuttered:

\"Isay，Noel，weweren’thalfdone！\"

\"Iknow;butDaddywasgettingbored，weren’tyou，dear？ThisisCyrilMorland。\"

Piersonshooktheyoungman’shand。

\"Daddy，yournoseisburnt！\"

\"Mydear;Iknow。\"

\"Icangiveyousomewhitestuffforit。Youhavetosleepwithitonallnight。UncleandAuntiebothuseit。\"

\"Nollie！\"

\"Well，Evesaysso。Ifyou’regoingtobathe，Cyril，lookoutforthatcurrent！\"

Theyoungman，gazingatherwithundisguisedadoration，muttered:

\"Rather！\"andwentout。

Noel’seyeslingeredafterhim;Evebrokeasilence。

\"Ifyou’regoingtohaveabathbeforetea，Nollie，you’dbetterhurryup。\"

\"Allright。WasitjollyintheAbbey，Daddy？\"

\"Lovely;likeagreatpieceofmusic。\"

\"Daddyalwaysputseverythingintomusic。Yououghttoseeitbymoonlight;it’sgorgeousthen。Allright，Eve;I’mcoming。\"Butshedidnotgetup，andwhenEvewasgone，cuddledherarmthroughherfather’sandmurmured:

\"Whatd’youthinkofCyril？\"

\"Mydear，howcanItell？Heseemsanice—lookingyoungman。\"

\"Allright，Daddy;don’tstrainyourself。It’sjollydownhere，isn’tit？\"Shegotup，stretchedherselfalittle，andmovedaway，lookinglikeaverytallchild，withhershorthaircurlinginroundherhead。

Pierson，watchinghervanishpastthecurtain，thought:’Whatalovelythingsheis！’Andhegotuptoo，butinsteadoffollowing，wenttothepiano，andbegantoplayMendelssohn’sPreludeandFugueinEminor。Hehadafinetouch，andplayedwithasortofdreamypassion。Itwashiswayoutofperplexities，regrets，andlongings;

awaywhichneverquitefailedhim。

AtCambridge，hehadintendedtotakeupmusicasaprofession，butfamilytraditionhaddestinedhimforHolyOrders，andanemotionalChurchrevivalofthatdayhadcaughthiminitsstream。Hehadalwayshadprivatemeans，andthoseearlyyearsbeforehemarriedhadpassedhappilyinanEast—Endparish。Tohavenotonlyopportunitybutpowertohelpinthelivesofthepoorhadbeenfascinating;

simplehimself，thesimplefolkofhisparishhadtakenholdofhisheart。When，however，hemarriedAgnesHeriot，hewasgivenaparishofhisownonthebordersofEastandWest，wherehehadbeeneversince，evenafterherdeathhadnearlykilledhim。Itwasbettertogoonwhereworkandallremindedhimofonewhomhehadresolvednevertoforgetinotherties。Butheknewthathisworkhadnotthezestitusedtohaveinherday，orevenbeforeherday。Itmaywellbedoubtedwhetherhe，whohadbeeninHolyOrderstwenty—sixyears，quiteknewnowwhathebelieved。Everythinghadbecomecircumscribed，andfixed，bythousandsofhisownutterances;tohavetakenfreshstockofhisfaith，tohavegonedeepintoitsroots，wouldhavebeenliketakingupthefoundationsofastill—standinghouse。Somemennaturallyrootthemselvesintheinexpressible——forwhichoneformulaismuchthesameasanother;thoughEdwardPierson，gentlydogmatic，undoubtedlypreferredhisHigh—Churchstatementoftheinexpressibletothatof，say，theZoroastrians。Thesubtletiesofchange，themodificationsbyscience，leftlittlesenseofinconsistencyortreasononhissoul。Sensitive，charitable，andonlycombativedeepdown，heinstinctivelyavoideddiscussiononmatterswherehemighthurtothersortheyhurthim。And，sinceexplanationwasthelastthingwhichocouldbeexpectedofonewhodidnotbasehimselfonReason，hehadfoundbutscantoccasionevertoexamineanything。JustasintheoldAbbeyhehadsoaredoffintotheinfinitewiththehawk，thebeetles，andthegrasses，sonow，atthepiano，bythesesoundsofhisownmaking，hewascaughtawayagainintoemotionalism，withoutrealisingthathewasinoneofhis，mostreligiousmoods。

\"Aren’tyoucomingtotea，Edward？\"

Thewomanstandingbehindhim，inalilac—colouredgown，hadoneofthosefaceswhichremaininnocenttotheendofthechapter，inspiteofthecompleteknowledgeoflifewhichappertainstomothers。Indaysofsufferingandanxiety，liketheseofthegreatwar，ThirzaPiersonwasavaluableperson。Withouteverexpressinganopiniononcosmicmatters，shereconfirmedcertaincosmictruths，suchasthatthoughthewholeworldwasatwar，therewassuchathingaspeace;

thatthoughallthesonsofmotherswerebeingkilled，thereremainedsuchathingasmotherhood;thatwhileeverybodywaslivingforthefuture，thepresentstillexisted。Hertranquil，tender，matter—of—

factbusyness，andthedewinhereyes，hadbeenproofagainsttwenty—threeyearsoflifeonatea—plantationinthehotpartofCeylon;againstBobPierson;againsttheanxietyofhavingtwosonsatthefront，andtheconfidencesofnearlyeveryoneshecameacross。Nothingdisturbedher。Shewaslikeapaintingof\"Goodness\"byanOldMaster，restoredbyKateGreenaway。Sheneverwenttomeetlife，butwhenitcame，madethebestofit。Thiswashersecret，andPiersonalwaysfeltrestedinherpresence。

Herose，andmovedbyherside，overthelawn，towardsthebigtreeatthebottomofthegarden。

\"Howd’youthinkNoelislooking，Edward？\"

\"Verypretty。Thatyoungman，Thirza？\"

\"Yes;I’mafraidhe’soverheadandearsinlovewithher。\"

Atthedismayedsoundheuttered，sheslippedhersoftroundarmwithinhis。\"He’sgoingtothefrontsoon，poorboy！\"

\"Havetheytalkedtoyou？\"

\"Hehas。Nolliehasn’tyet。\"

\"Nollieisaqueerchild，Thirza。\"

\"Nollieisadarling，butratheradesperatecharacter，Edward。\"

Piersonsighed。

Inaswingunderthetree，wherethetea—thingsweresetout，the\"ratherdesperatecharacter\"wasswaying。\"Whatapicturesheis！\"

hesaid，andsighedagain。

Thevoiceofhisbrothercametothem，——highandsteamy，asthoughcorruptedbytheclimateofCeylon:

\"Youincorrigibledreamychap，Ted！We’veeatenalltheraspberries。

Eve，givehimsomejam;hemustbedead！Phew！theheat！Comeon，mydear，andpourouthistea。Hallo，Cyril！Hadagoodbathe？ByGeorge，wishmyheadwaswet！Squattez—vousdownoverthere，byNollie;she’llswing，andkeepthefliesoffyou。\"

\"Givemeacigarette，UncleBob——\"

\"What！Yourfatherdoesn’t——\"

\"Justfortheflies。Youdon’tmind，Daddy？\"

\"Notifit’snecessary，mydear。\"

Noelsmiled，showingherupperteeth，andhereyesseemedtoswimundertheirlonglashes。

\"Itisn’tnecessary，butit’snice。\"

\"Ah，ha！\"saidBobPierson。\"Hereyouare，Nollie！\"

ButNoelshookherhead。Atthatmomentshestruckherfatherasstartlinglygrown—up—socomposed，swayingabovethatyoungmanatherfeet，whosesunnyfacewasalladoration。’Nolongerachild！’hethought。’DearNollie！’

II

1

Awakenedbythatdailycruelty，theadventofhotwater，EdwardPiersonlayinhischintz—curtainedroom，fancyinghimselfbackinLondon。Awildbeehuntinghoneyfromthebowlofflowersonthewindow—sill，andthescentofsweetbrier，shatteredthatillusion。

Hedrewthecurtain，and，kneelingonthewindow—seatthrusthisheadoutintothemorning。Theairwasintoxicatinglysweet。Hazeclungovertheriverandthewoodsbeyond;thelawnsparkledwithdew，andtwowagtailsstruttedinthedewysunshine。’ThankGodforloveliness！’hethought。’Thosepoorboysatthefront！’Andkneelingwithhiselbowsonthesill，hebegantosayhisprayers。

Thesamefeelingwhichmadehimbeautifyhischurch，usevestments，goodmusic，andincense，filledhimnow。GodwasinthelovelinessofHisworld，aswellasinHischurches。OnecouldworshipHiminagroveofbeechtrees，inabeautifulgarden，onahighhill，bythebanksofabrightriver。Godwasintherustleoftheleaves，andthehumofabee，inthedewonthegrass，andthescentofflowers;

Godwasineverything！Andheaddedtohisusualprayerthiswhisper:\"IgiveTheethanksformysenses，OLord。Inallofus，keepthembright，andgratefulforbeauty。\"Thenheremainedmotionless，preytoasortofhappyyearningverynear，tomelancholy。Greatbeautyeverhadthateffectonhim。Onecouldcapturesolittleofit——couldneverenjoyitenough！Whowasithadsaidnotlongago:\"Loveofbeautyisreallyonlythesexinstinct，whichnothingbutcompleteunionsatisfies。\"Ah！yes，George——

Gratian’shusband。GeorgeLaird！Andalittlefrowncamebetweenhisbrows，asthoughatsomethornintheflesh。PoorGeorge！Butthen，alldoctorswerematerialistsatheart——splendidfellows，though;afinefellow，George，workinghimselftodeathoutthereinFrance。Onemustnottakethemtooseriously。Hepluckedabitofsweetbrierandputittohisnose，whichstillretainedtheshineofthatbleachingointmentNoelhadinsistedonhisusing。Thesweetsmellofthoselittleroughleavesstirredupanacuteaching。Hedroppedthem，anddrewback。Nolongings，nomelancholy;oneoughttobeout，thisbeautifulmorning！

ItwasSunday;buthehadnottotakethreeServicesandpreachatleastonesermon;thisdayofrestwasreallytobehisown，foronce。Itwasalmostdisconcerting;hehadsolongfeltlikethecabhorsewhocouldnotbetakenoutoftheshaftslestheshouldfalldown。Hedressedwithextraordinarydeliberation，andhadnotquitefinishedwhentherecameaknockonhisdoor，andNoel’svoicesaid:

\"CanIcomein，Daddy？\"

Inherflax—bluefrock，withaGloiredeDijonrosepinnedwhereitmetonherfaintlybrownedneck，sheseemedtoherfatheraperfectvisionoffreshness。

\"Here’saletterfromGratian;Georgehasbeensenthomeill，andhe’sgonetoourhouse。She’sgotleavefromherhospitaltocomehomeandnursehim。\"

Piersonreadtheletter。\"PoorGeorge！\"

\"Whenareyougoingtoletmebeanurse，Daddy？\"

\"Wemustwaittillyou’reeighteen，Nollie。\"

\"IcouldeasilysayIwas。It’sonlyamonth;andIlookmuchmore。\"

Piersonsmiled。

\"Don’tI？\"

\"Youmightbeanythingfromfifteentotwenty—five，mydear，accordingasyoubehave。\"

\"Iwanttogooutasnearthefrontaspossible。\"

Herheadwaspoisedsothatthesunlightframedherface，whichwasratherbroad——thebrowrathertoobroad——underthewavinglight—brownhair，thenoseshortandindeterminate;cheeksstillroundfromyouth，almostwaxen—pale，andfaintlyhollowedundertheeyes。Itwasherlips，daintyyetloving，andaboveallhergreyeyes，biganddreamilyalive，whichmadeheraswan。Hecouldnotimagineherinnurse’sgarb。

\"Thisisnew，isn’tit，Nollie？\"

\"CyrilMorland’ssistersarebothout;andhe’llbegoingsoon。

Everybodygoes。\"

\"Gratianhasn’tgotoutyet:Ittakesalongtimetogettrained。\"

\"Iknow;allthemorereasontobegin。\"

Shegotup，lookedathim，lookedatherhands，seemedabouttospeak，butdidnot。Alittlecolourhadcomeintohercheeks。Then，obviouslymakingconversation，sheasked:

\"Areyougoingtochurch？It’sworthanythingtohearUncleBobreadtheLessons，especiallywhenheloseshisplace。No;you’renottoputonyourlongcoattilljustbeforechurchtime。Iwon’thaveit！\"

ObedientlyPiersonresignedhislongcoat。

\"Now，yousee，youcanhavemyrose。Yournoseisbetter！\"Shekissedhisnose，andtransferredherrosetothebuttonholeofhisshortcoat。\"That’sall。Comealong！\"Andwithherarmthroughhis，theywentdown。Butheknewshehadcometosaysomethingwhichshehadnotsaid。

2

BobPierson，invirtueofgreaterwealththantherestofthecongregation，alwaysreadtheLessons，inhishighsteamyvoice，hisbreathingneveradjustedtothelengthofanyperiod。Thecongregation，accustomed，heardnothingpeculiar;hewasthenecessarygentrywiththenecessaryfingerinthepie。Itwashisownfamilywhomheperturbed。Inthesecondrow，Noel，staringsolemnlyattheprofileofherfatherinthefrontrow，wasthinking:

’PoorDaddy！Hiseyeslookasiftheywerecomingout。Oh，Daddy！

Smile！orit’llhurtyou！’YoungMorlandbesideher，rigidinhistunic，wasthinking:’Sheisn’tthinkingofme！’Andjustthenherlittlefingercrookedintohis。EdwardPiersonwasthinking:’Oh！MydearoldBob！Oh！’And，besidehim，Thirzathought:’PoordearTedI

howniceforhimtobehavingacompleterest！Imustmakehimeathe’ssothin！’AndEvewasthinking:’Oh，Father！Mercy！’ButBobPiersonwasthinking:’Cheeroh！Onlyanotherthreeverses！’Noel’slittlefingerunhookeditself，buthereyesstoleroundtoyoungMorland’seyes，andtherewasalightinthemwhichlingeredthroughthesingingandtheprayers。Atlast，inthereverentialrustleofthesettlingcongregation，asurplicedfiguremountedthepulpit。

\"IcomenottobringPeace，butasword。\"

Piersonlookedup。Hefeltdeeprestfulness。Therewasapleasantlightinthischurch;thehumofacountrybluebottlemadeallthedifferencetothequalityofsilence。Nocriticalthoughtstirredwithinhim，noranyexcitement。Hewasthinking:’NowIshallhearsomethingformygood;afinetext;whendidIpreachfromitlast？’

Turnedalittleawayfromtheothers，hesawnothingbutthepreacher’shomelyfaceupthereabovethecarvedoak;itwassolongsincehehadbeenpreachedto，solongsincehehadhadarest！Thewordscameforth，droppedonhisforehead，penetrated，metsomethingwhichabsorbedthem，anddisappeared。’Agoodplainsermon！’hethought。’IsupposeI’mstale;Idon’tseem——’\"Letusnot，dearbrethren，\"dronedthepreacher’searnestvoice，\"thinkthatourdearLord，insayingthatHebroughtasword，referredtoaphysicalsword。ItwastheswordofthespirittowhichHewasundoubtedlyreferring，thatbrightswordofthespiritwhichinallageshascleaveditswaythroughthefettersimposedonmenthemselvesbytheirowndesires，imposedbymenonothermeningratificationoftheirambitions，aswehavehadsostrikinganexampleintheinvasionbyourcruelenemiesofalittleneighbouringcountrywhichhaddonethemnoharm。Dearbrethren，wemayallbringswords。\"

Pierson’schinjerked;heraisedhishandquicklyandpasseditoverhisface。’Allbringswords，’hethought，’swords——Iwasn’tasleep——

surely！’\"Butletusbesurethatourswordsarebright;brightwithhope，andbrightwithfaith，thatwemayseethemflashingamongthecarnaldesiresofthismortallife，carvingapathforustowardsthatheavenlykingdomwherealoneispeace，perfectpeace。Letuspray。\"

Piersondidnotshuthiseyes;heopenedthemashefellonhisknees。Intheseatbehind，NoelandyoungMorlandhadalsofallenontheirkneestheirfacescoveredeachwithasinglehand;butherlefthandandhisrighthungattheirsides。Theyprayedalittlelongerthananyothersand，onrising，sangthehymnalittlelouder。

3

NopapercameonSundays——noteventhelocalpaper，whichhadsolongandsonoblydoneitsbitwithheadlinestowinthewar。Nonewswhatevercame，ofmenblownup，toenliventhehushofthehotJulyafternoon，orthesenseofdrugging——whichfollowedAuntThirza’sSundaylunch。Someslept，somethoughttheywereawake;butNoelandyoungMorlandwalkedupwardthroughthewoodstowardsahighcommonofheathandfurze，crownedbywhatwasknownasKestrelrocks。

Betweenthesetwoyoungpeoplenoactualwordoflovehadyetbeenspoken。Theirloveringhadadvancedbyglanceandtouchalone。

YoungMorlandwasaschoolandcollegefriendofthetwoPiersonboysnowatthefront。Hehadnohomeofhisown，forhisparentsweredead;andthiswasnothisfirstvisittoKestrel。Arrivingthreeweeksago，forhisfinalleavebeforeheshouldgoout，hehadfoundagirlsittinginalittlewagonetteoutsidethestation，andhadknownhisfateatonce。ButwhoknowswhenNoelfellinlove？Shewas——onesupposes——justreadyforthatsensation。Forthelasttwoyearsshehadbeenatoneofthosehigh—classfinishingestablishmentswhere，inspiteofthehealthycurriculum，perhapsbecauseofit，thereiseveranundercurrentofinterestintheopposingsex;andnoteventhegravesteffortstoeliminateinstinctarequitesuccessful。Thedisappearanceofeveryyoungmalethingintothemawofthemilitarymachineputapremiumoninstinct。ThethoughtsofNoelandherschoolcompanionswereturned，perforce，tothatwhich，inpre—warfreedomofopportunitytheycouldaffordtoregardasofsecondaryinterest。LoveandMarriageandMotherhood，fixedasthelotofwomenbythecountlessages，werethreatenedfortheseyoungcreatures。Theynotunnaturallypursuedwhattheyfelttobereceding。

WhenyoungMorlandshowed，byfollowingheraboutwithhiseyes，whatwashappeningtohim，Noelwaspleased。Frombeingpleased，shebecamealittleexcited;frombeingexcitedshebecamedreamy。Then，aboutaweekbeforeherfather’sarrival，shesecretlybegantofollowtheyoungmanaboutwithhereyes;becamecapricioustoo，andalittlecruel。Iftherehadbeenanotheryoungmantofavour——buttherewasnot;andshefavouredUncleBob’sredsetter。CyrilMorlandgrewdesperate。Duringthosethreedaysthedemonherfatherdreadedcertainlypossessedher。Andthen，oneevening，whiletheywalkedbacktogetherfromthehay—fields，shegavehimasidelongglance;andhegaspedout:\"Oh！Noel，whathaveIdone？\"Shecaughthishand，andgaveitaquicksqueeze。Whatachange！Whatblissfulalterationeversince！

ThroughthewoodyoungMorlandmountedsilently，screwinghimselfuptoputthingstothetouch。Noeltoomountedsilently，thinking:’I

willkisshimifhekissesme！’Eagerness，andasortoflanguor，wererunninginherveins;shedidnotlookathimfromunderhershadyhat。Sunlightpoureddownthrougheverychinkinthefoliage;

madethegreennessofthesteepwoodmarvellouslyvividandalive;

flashedonbeechleaves，ashleaves，birchleaves;fellonthegroundinlittlerunlets;paintedbrightpatchesontrunksandgrass，thebeechmast，theferns;butterflieschasedeachotherinthatsunlight，andmyriadsofantsandgnatsandfliesseemedpossessedbyafrenzyoflife。Thewholewoodseemedpossessed，asifthesunshinewereahappyBeingwhichhadcometodwelltherein。Atahalf—wayspot，wherethetreesopenedandtheycouldsee，farbelowthem，thegleamoftheriver，shesatdownontheboleofabeech—