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。