-thegreateventofhislife，andashelookedattheothersherealised，youngashewas，thatnoneofthemfeltitashedid，andtherealisationgavehimastrangefeeling，halfofgratification，halfofloneliness。Hestoodthere，alittleapartfromtherestofthem，clutchinghisbox，andholdingontoHamlet’slead，feelingsodeeplyexcitedthathisheartwaslikeahard，coldstonejumpingupanddown，bump，bump，behindhiswaistcoat。
“That’sJim！That’sJim！“hewhisperedinahoarsegasptoMissJones。
“Nowmind，dear，“sheansweredinherkindly，gropingvoice。“You’llbefallingontotherailifyouaren’tcareful。“
ItstrangelyannoyedhimthathisfathershouldgreetJimjustasthoughheweresomequiteordinarymaninPolchester。HehimselfwaitedinastrangeagitationuntilJimshouldnoticehim。Themanturnedatlast，bendingdowntopickupabox，sawhim，touchedhiscap，smilingalong，crookedsmile，andJeremyblushedwithhappiness。Itwasthefirstrecognitionthathehadhadfromthefarm，anditpleasedhim。
Theyallmoveduptothehigherroad。UncleSamuel，comingonatthelast，inadreamy，moodyway，stoppingonthebridgetolookdownattherailway-line，andthensuddenlysayingaloud：
“Theirmindsarefullofthenumberofboxes，andwhetherthey’llgettea，andwho’stopaywhat，and’HowbadlyIwantawash！’andalreadyto-morrowthey’llbewonderingwhethertheyoughn’ttobegettinghometoPolchester。Allsham！Allsham！“
Hewasn’tspeakingtoJeremy，buttohimself。However，Jeremysaid：
“DidyouseeJim，Uncle？“
“No，Ididnot。“
“He’sfatterandredderthanlastyear。“
“Ishouldn’twonder。“
“Areyougoingtopaint，Uncle？“
“Iam。“
“What？“
“Oh，justlinesandcircles。“
Jeremypaused，standingforamoment，andlookedpuzzled。Thenhesaid：
“Doyoulikebabies，UncleSamuel？“
“No，Idonot。“
“NotevenBarbara？“
“No——certainlynot。“
“Idon’t，too……Whydon’tyoupaintcowsandhouseslikeotherpeople，UncleSamuel？IheardFathersayoncethatheneverknewwhatyourpicturesmeant。“
“That’swhyIpaintthem。“
“Why？“
“Sothatyourfathershan’tknowwhattheymean。“
Althoughhedidnotunderstandthisanymorethanheunderstoodhisuncle，Jeremywaspleasedwiththisconversation。Ithadbeen，somehow，intonewiththeplaceandthehour；ithadconveyedtohiminsomestrangefashionthathisunclecaredforallofthisratherashehimselfcared。Oh！helikedUncleSamuel！
HehadhopedthathemighthavesatontheboxnexttoJim，butthatplacewasnowpiledupwithluggage，sohewassqueezedinbetweenhismotherandMrs。Patcham，withHamlet，veryuncomfortable，betweenhisknees。Theydroveoffdownthehighroad，thehotsmellofthegrasscametohisnostrils，thesunblazeddownuponthem，turningthepathbeforethemintogleamingsteel，andthehighGlebeshirehedges，coveredwiththinpowder，roseonbothsidesabovethem，breakingonceandagaintoshowthefoldingvalleys，andthefaintbluehills，andtheheavy，darktreeswiththeirthick，blackshadowsstainingthegrass。
Thecowswereclusteredsleepingwherevertheycouldfindshadow；
faintlysheep-bellstinkledinthedistance，andnowandthenastream，likebrokenglass，floated，cried，andwasgone。Theydroveintoadarkwood，andthesunscatteredthroughthetreesinpiecesofgoldandshadowystreamsofarrowedlight。Thebirdsweresinging，andwheneverthehoofsofthehorsesandthewheelsturnedontosoftmossorlinesofgrass，inthesuddensilencetheairwasfilledwithbirds’voices。Thatprovedthatitmustnowbeturningtotheeveningoftheday；thesunwasnotveryhighabovethewood，andtheseaofbluewasinvadedbyahighgalleonofcloudthathoveredwithspreadingsail，catchinggoldintoitsheartasitmoved。Theyleftthewood，crossedtheRiverGarth，andcameoutontomoorland。Here，forthefirsttime，Jeremysmeltthesea；thelaneshadbeenhot，butherethewindblewacrossthemoor，withthesmellofsea-pinksandsea-gullsinit。Thegrasswasshortandrough；thesoilwassand。Onthehorizonwasthegrey，melancholytowerofadesertedmine。Somebirdflewwithswiftlydrivingwings，cryingasitwent。Thesmellofthemoorwasasfreshasthoughthefootofmanhadnevercrossedit——deserted，butnotalone；bare，butnotempty；uninhabited，butpeopled；silent，butfullofvoices。
Jeremy’sexcitementgrew。Heknewnowhoweverylineoftheroadwouldbe。TheyleftthemoorandwereontheroadleadingtoRafield。ThesewerethedaysbeforetheybuilttheroadfromLiskanewideenoughformotor-carsandotherhorribleinventions。Thirtyyearsagothewaywassonarrowthatthebriarsandfernsbrushedyourfaceasyoupassed，andyoucouldreachoutyourhandandplucksnap-dragonsanddandelionsandfox-gloves。Manyroadstwistedinandoutupononeanother；thecornersweresosharpthatsometimesthewagonetteseemedtohangupononewheelasitturned。Stillnosightofthesea，butthesmellofitnowwaseverywhere，andsometimesatasuddenbendtherewouldcomeafaintbeat，beatupontheearwithsomethingrhymingandmeasuredinit，likethemurmurofasleepinggiant。
TheycametothebendwherethehillsuddenlydipsatafearfulangledownintoRafield。Heretheyturnedtotheright，deepbetweenedgesagain，thenthroughalittlecopse，andthen，asthoughwithawhiskofthefinger，rightontoCowFarmitself。
Itwasanoldsquarehouse，deepredbrick，withcrookedchimneys，andsstonecourtinfrontofit。Toeithersideofthecourttherewerebarns。Behindthehousethicktrees，cloudedwithgreen，showed。Inthemiddleofthecourtwasapump，andallabouttheflaggedstonespigeonsweredelicatelywalking。Astheydroveup，thepigeonsroseinawheelingflightagainsttheskynowstainingfaintlywithamber；dogsrushedbarkingfromthebarns；ahaycartturnedthecomer，itswheelscreaking，andfourlittlechildrenperchedhighonthetopofthehay。Thenthehall-dooropened，andbeholdMrs。Monk，Mr。Monk，and，clusteringshylybehind，thelittleMonks。
InthescenethatfollowedJeremywasforgotten。Hedidnotknowwhatitwasthatmadehimhangbehindtheothers，buthestoodbesidethewagonette，bentdownandreleasedHamlet，andthenwaited，hidingundertheshadowofthecart。Hishappinesswasalmostintolerable；hecouldnotspeak，hecouldnotmove，andintheheartofhishappinesstherewasastrangeunhappinessthathehadneverknownbefore。ThelonelinessthathehadfeltatLiskaneStationwasintensified，sothathefeltlikeastrangerwhowasseeinghisfather，orhismother，oraunt，orsistersforthefirsttime。Everythingabouthimemphasisedtheloneliness：thesloweveninglightthatwasstealingintothesky，thesoundofsomemachineinthefarm-houseturningwithamelancholyrhythmicwhine，avoicecallinginthefields，therumbleofthesea，thetwitteringofbirdsinthegardentrees，thebarkofadogfar，faraway，and，throughthemall，thesensethattheworldwassinkingdownintosilence，andthatallthesoundswereslippingaway，likevisitorshurryingfromtheparkbeforethegatesareshut；hestoodthere，listening，caughtintoalifethatwasutterlyhisownandhadnosharewithanyother。Helookedaroundandsawthattheywereallgoingintothehouse，thatJimandMr。Monkwerebusywiththeboxes，andthatnoonewasawareofhim。Heknewwhathewanted。
Heslippedacrossthecourt，anddroppedintotheblackcavernousholeofthefartherbarn。Atfirstthedarknessstoppedhim；butheknewhisway，foundthestepsthatleduptotheloft，andwassoonperchedhighbehindalittlesquarewindowthatwasnowblueandgoldagainstthevelvetyblacknessbehindhim。Thiswashisfavouritespotinallthefarm。Here，alltheyear，theystoredtheapples，andthesmellofthefruitwasthickintheair，sweetandstrong，clingingabouteveryfibreoftheplace，sothatyoucouldnotdisturbastrandnorastonewithoutsendingsomenewdriftofthescentupagainstyournostrils。Alltheyearafterhisfirstvisit，Jeremyhadbeenlongingtosmellthatsmellagain，andnowhekneltupagainstthewindow，drinkingitin。Withhiseyeshesearchedthehorizon。Fromhereyoucouldseethegardenwiththesun-dial，thefieldsbeyond，thesuddendipwiththetreesattheedgeofitbentcrosswaysbythewind，andthere，insuchacupasone’shandsmightform，justbeyond，wasthesea……
Hestaredasthoughhiseyeswouldstartfromhishead。Behindhimwasthecloudysmokeoftheapple-scent；infrontofhimthesunwassinkingtowardsthedarkelms。Soonthetreeswouldcatchthesunandhideit；thegalleoncloudthathadbeenoverthemastheydrovewasnewbankedinredandgoldacrossthehorizon；birdsslowly，lazilyfledtotheirhomes。
Heheardsomeonecall，“Jeremy！Jeremy！“Withalastgazehesawthebluecupturntogold，thesunreachedthetopsoftheelms；thefieldswerelitwiththeglitterofshiningglass，then，evenashewatched，theywerepurple，thengrey，thendimlikesmoke。
Againthevoicecalled“Jeremy！“Heslippedfromthewindow，foundthelittlestair，ranacrosstheduskycourtandenteredthehouse。
CHAPTERIX
THEAWAKENINGOFCHARLOTTE
I
Towardstheendofthefirstfortnight’sstayatCowFarmitwasannouncedthatveryshortlytherewouldbeapicnicatRafielCove。
Jeremyhadbeenwaitingforthisproclamation；onceortwicehehadaskedwhethertheyweregoingtotheCoveandhadbeentold“nottobother，““allingoodtime，“andotherridiculouselderlyfinalities，butheknewthatthedaymustcome，asithadalwayscomeeveryyear。ThepicnicatRafieldwasalwaysthecentraleventofthesummer。Andhehadthisyearanotherreasonforexcitedanticipation——thewonderfulCharlotteLePagewastobepresent。
UntilnowJeremyhadnevertakentheslightestinterestingirls。
MaryandHelen，beinghissisters，werenecessitiesandinevitabilities，butthatdidnotmeanthathecouldnotgetalongveryeasilywithoutthem，andindeedMarywithherjealousies，herstrangesulkytemperandsuddensentimentalrepentanceswascertainlyaburdenandrestraint。AstothelittlegirlsinPolchester，hehadfranklyfoundthemtiresomeandstupid，thinkingofthemselves，terrifiedofthemostnaturalphenomenaanduntruthfulintheirstatements。Hehadbeenalwaysindependentandreservedwitheveryone，andbudnever，inallhislife，hadaclosefriend，buttherehadbeen，especiallyoflate，boyswithwhomithadbeenamusingtospendanhourortwo，andsincehisfightwiththeDean’sErnesthehadthoughtthatitwouldberatherinterestingtomakeafurthertrialofstrengthwithwhomsoever……
Girlswerestupid，uninteresting，conceitedandslow。Henever，inallhislife，wantedtohaveanythingtodowithgirls。ButCharlotteLePagewasanothermatter。Shehad，inthefirstplace，becomequiteatraditionintheColefamily。Shewasthedaughterofawealthylandowner，whoalwaysspenthisholidaysinRafiel。Sheandherverybeautiful，verysuperiormotherhadbeenseenonmanyoccasionsbytheColesdrivingabouttheGlebeshireroadsinafineandlanguidmanner，amannertowhichtheColesknew，verywell，theythemselvescouldneverattain。ThenMrs。Colehadcalled，andMrs。LePageandCharlottehadcometoteaatCowFarm。Thishadbeenayearago，whenJeremyhadbeenonlyseven；nevertheless，hehadbeenpresentduringthefirstpartoftheceremony，andCharlottehadstruckhimasentirelyamazing。
Hehadsimplygazedatherwithhismouthopen，forgettingallhisgoodmanners。Shewasatthistimenineortenyearsofagebutverysmalland，astheysayofthemostmodernkindofdoll，“perfectineveryparticular。“Shehadwonderfulhairofabrightripplinggold；