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—