A Pair Of Blue Eyes - Chapter 23
First published in 1873, "A Pair of Blue Eyes" is a tender and atmospheric novel by Thomas Hardy, set amid the wild beauty of the Cornish coast in western England. It tells the story of Elfride Swancourt, a young woman caught between love, social expectations, and the haunting pull of the past. This early Hardy novel is rich with emotional depth and lyrical landscapes, so settle in and let the gentle rhythms of Victorian prose carry you into a quieter time...!
Transcript
Hello there.
Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of A Pair of Blue Eyes,
The charming old novel from 1873 by English author and poet Thomas Hardy.
We are following along with the adventures of a high-spirited young woman in the Victorian era in the remote southwest of England in Cornwall.
Perhaps you've heard the previous parts of this story.
If you haven't and you would like to,
You can certainly look for the playlist for A Pair of Blue Eyes and you'll find everything there in order.
But for now,
Let's just take a moment here to have a nice,
Deep exhale,
Letting go of the day,
Letting go of whichever baggage we might be bringing along with us into this moment.
For right now,
There's nowhere else we have to go,
Nothing else we have to be doing.
So we can just relax,
Get ourselves comfortable and enjoy the ongoing tale of A Pair of Blue Eyes.
Chapter 23.
Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot?
By this time,
Stephen Smith had stepped out upon the quay at Castle Boterel and breathed his native air.
A darker skin,
A more pronounced moustache and an incipient beard were the chief additions and changes noticeable in his appearance.
In spite of the falling rain,
Which had somewhat lessened,
He took a small valise in his hand and,
Leaving the remainder of his luggage at the inn,
Ascended the hills towards East Endelstow.
This place lay in a vale of its own,
Further inland than the West Village,
And though so near it had little of physical feature in common with the latter,
East Endelstow was more wooded and fertile.
It boasted of Lord Luxellian's Mansion and Park,
And was free from those bleak,
Open uplands,
Which lent such an air of desolation to the vicinage of the coast,
Always excepting the small valley in which stood the vicarage and Mrs Swancourt's old house,
The Crags.
Stephen had arrived nearly at the summit of the ridge when the rain again increased its volume,
And looking about for temporary shelter,
He ascended a steep path which penetrated dense hazel bushes in the lower part of its course.
Further up,
It emerged upon a ledge immediately over the Turnpike Road,
And sheltered by an overhanging face of rubble rock with bushes above.
For a reason of his own,
He made this spot his refuge from the storm,
And turning his face to the left,
Conned the landscape as a book.
He was overlooking the valley containing Elfride's residence.
From this point of observation,
The prospect exhibited the peculiarity of being either brilliant foreground or the subdued tone of distance,
A sudden dip in the surface of the country,
Lowering out of sight all the intermediate prospect.
In apparent contact with the trees and bushes growing close beside him,
Appeared the distant tract,
Terminated suddenly by the brink of the series of cliffs which culminated in the tall giant without a name.
Small and unimportant as here beheld,
A leaf on a bough at Stephen's elbow flotted out a whole hill in the contrasting district far away.
A green bunch of nuts covered a complete upland there,
And the great cliff itself was outbide by a pygmy crag in the bank hard by him.
Stephen had looked upon these things hundreds of times before today,
But he had never viewed them with such tenderness as now.
Stepping forward in this direction yet a little further,
He could see the tower of West Endelstow Church,
Beneath which he was to meet his Elfride that night.
And at the same time he noticed,
Coming over the hill from the cliffs,
A white speck in motion.
It seemed first to be a seagull flying low,
But ultimately proved to be a human figure,
Running with great rapidity.
The form flitted on,
Heedless of the rain which had caused Stephen's halt in this place,
Dropped down the heathery hill,
Entered the vale,
And was out of sight.
Whilst he meditated upon the meaning of this phenomenon,
He was surprised to see,
Swim into his ken from the same point of departure,
Another moving speck,
As different from the first as well could be,
Insomuch that it was perceptible only by its blackness.
Slowly and regularly it took the same course,
And there was not much doubt that this was the form of a man.
He,
Too,
Gradually descended from the upper levels and was lost in the valley below.
The rain had by this time again abated,
And Stephen returned to the road.
Looking ahead,
He saw two men and a cart.
They were soon obscured by the intervention of a high hedge.
Just before they emerged again,
He heard voices in conversation.
"'I must soon be in the neighbourhood,
Too.
If so,
Be ye to come in,
' said a tenor tongue,
Which Stephen instantly recognised as Martin Canister's.
"'I must,
I believe,
' said another voice,
That of Stephen's father.
' Stephen stepped forward and came before them face to face.
His father and Martin were walking,
Dressed in their second-best suits,
And beside them rambled along a grizzle horse and brightly painted spring cart.
"'All right,
Mr Canister,
Here's the lost man!
' exclaimed young Smith,
Entering at once upon the old style of greeting.
"'Father,
Here I am!
' "'All right,
My sonny,
And glad I be for it!
' returned John Smith,
Overjoyed to see the young man.
"'How be ye?
Well,
Come along home,
And don't let's bide out here in the damp.
Such weather must be terrible bad for a young chap just come from a fiery nation like Indy.
Hey,
Neighbour Canister!
' "'True,
True.
And about getting home is traps,
Boxes,
Monstrous bales,
And noble packages of foreign description,
I make no doubt.
' "'Hardly all that,
' said Stephen,
Laughing.
"'We brought the cart,
Manning to go straight on to Castle Butteral,
Afore ye landed,
' said his father.
"'Put in the oars,
' says Martin.
"'Aye,
' says I,
So we will,
And did it straightway.
"'Now,
Maybe Martin had better go on with the cart for the things,
And you and I walk home along.
' "'And I shall be back almost as soon as you.
Peggy is a pretty step still,
Though time to begin to tell upon her as upon the rest of us.
' Stephen told Martin where to find his baggage,
And then continued his journey homeward in the company of his father.
"'Owing to your coming a day sooner than we first expected,
' said John,
"'you'll find us in a turk of a mess,
Sir.
' "'Sir,
' says I to my own son,
But you've gone up so,
Stephen.
"'We've killed the pig this morning for you,
Thinking you'd be hungry,
And glad of a morsel of fresh mate,
And I won't be cut up till tonight.
"'However,
We can make you a good supper of fry,
Which we'll chop well with a dab of mustard and a few nice new taters and a drop of shilling ale to wash it down.
"'Your mother have scrubbed the house through because you were coming,
And dusted all the chimmer furniture and bought a new basin and jug of a travelling crockery woman that came to our door,
And scoured the candlesticks and climbed the windows.
"'I don't know what I're handed on.
Never were such a steer,
I believe.
' Conversation of this kind,
And enquiries of Stephen for his mother's well-being,
Occupied them for the remainder of the journey.
When they drew near the river and the cottage behind it,
They could hear the master mason's clock striking off the bygone hours of the day at intervals of a quarter of a minute,
During which intervals Stephen's imagination readily pictured his mother's forefinger wandering round the dial in company with the minute hand.
"'The clock stopped this mornin',
And your mother in puttin' and write seemin'ly,
' said his father in an explanatory tone.
And they went up the garden to the door.
When they had entered,
And Stephen had dutifully and warmly greeted his mother,
Who appeared in a cotton dress of a dark blue ground,
Covered,
Broadcast with a multitude of new and full moons,
Stars and planets,
With an occasional dash of a comet-like aspect to diversify the scene,
The crackle of cart-wheels was heard outside,
And Martin Canister stamped in at the doorway,
In the form of a pair of legs beneath a great box.
His body being nowhere visible.
When the luggage had been all taken down,
And Stephen had gone upstairs to change his clothes,
Mrs Smith's mind seemed to recover a lost thread.
"'Really,
Our clock is not worth a penny,
' she said,
Turning to it and attempting to start the pendulum.
"'Stopped again?
' inquired Martin,
With commiseration.
"'Yes,
Sure,
' replied Mrs Smith,
And continued,
After the manner of certain matrons,
To whose tongues the harmony of a subject with a casual mood is a greater recommendation than its pertinence to the occasion.
"'John would spend pounds a year upon the Jim Crackle thing,
If he might,
In havin' it cleaned,
When at the same time you may doctor it yourself as well.
' "'The clock's stopped again,
John,
' I say to him.
"'Better havin' cleaned,
' says he.
"'There's five shillings.
' "'That clock grinds again,
' I say to him.
"'Better havin' cleaned,
' I says again.
"'That clock strikes wrong,
John,
' says I.
"'Better havin' cleaned,
' he goes on.
"'The wheels would have been polished to skeletons by this time,
If I had listened to him.
"'And I assure you we could have bought a chainy-faced beauty with the good money we've flung away these last ten years upon this old green-faced mortal.
"'And Martin,
You must be wet.
"'My son is gone up to change.
"'John is damper than I should like to be,
But I calls it nuttin'.
"'Some of Mrs Swancourt's servants have been here.
"'They ran in out of the rain when goin' for a walk.
"'And I assure you the state of their bonnets was frightful.
"'How's the folks?
"'We've been over to Castle Butteral.
"'And what with runnin' and stoppin' out of the storerooms,
"'my poor head is beyond everything.
"'Fizz,
Fizz,
Fizz.
"'Tis fryin' of fish from mornin' to night,
' said a cracked voice in the doorway at this instant.
"'Lord so's,
Who's that?
' said Mrs Smith in a private exclamation,
"'and turning round saw William Worm,
"'endeavouring to make himself look passing civil and friendly "'by overspreading his face with a large smile.
"'That seemed to have no connection with the humour he was in.
"'Behind him stood a woman about twice his size,
"'with a large umbrella over her head.
"'This was Mrs Worm,
William's wife.
"'Come in,
William,
' said John Smith.
"'We don't kill a pig every day.
"'And you likewise,
Mrs Worm.
"'I make you welcome.
"'Since you left Parsons Swan Court,
William,
I don't see much o' you.
' "'No,
For to tell the truth,
Since I took to the Turnpike Gate line,
"'I've been out but little.
"'Comin' to church a Sunday's not bein' my duty now,
"'as t'was in a Parsons family,
You see.
"'However,
Our boy is able to mine the gate now,
"'and I said,
Says I,
"'Barbara,
Let's call and see John Smith.
"'I am sorry to hear your poor head is so bad still.
"'Aye,
I assure you,
"'that fryin' o' fish is goin' on for nights and days.
"'And you know,
Sometimes t'isn't only fish,
"'but rashers o' bacon and inions.
"'Aye,
I can hear the fat poppin' fizz as natural as life,
"'can't I,
Barbara?
' Mrs Worm,
Who had been all this time engaged in closing her umbrella,
Corroborated this statement,
And now,
Coming indoors,
Showed herself to be a wide-faced,
Comfortable-looking woman,
With a wart upon her cheek,
Bearing a small tuft of hair in its centre.
"'Have you ever tried anything to cure your noise,
Meister Worm?
' inquired Martin Canister.
"'Oh,
Aye,
Bless ye,
I've tried everything.
"'Aye,
Providence is a merciful man,
"'and I have hoped he'd have found it out by this time.
"'Livin' so many years in a person's family too,
"'as I have,
But I don't seem to relieve me.
"'Aye,
I be a poor,
Wamblin' man,
"'and life's a mint o' trouble.
' "'True,
Mournful true,
William Worm,
T'is so.
"'The world wants lookin' to,
Or t'is all sixes and sevens with us.
' "'Take your things off,
Mrs Worm,
' said Mrs Smith.
"'We be rather in a muddle,
To tell the truth,
"'for my son is just dropped in from Indy a day sooner than we expected,
"'and the pig-killer is comin' presently to cut up.
' "'Mrs Barbara Worm,
Not wishing to take any mean advantage "'of persons in a muddle by observing them,
"'removed her bonnet and mantle with eyes fixed upon the flowers "'in the plot outside the door.
' "'What beautiful tiger-lilies,
' said Mrs Worm.
"'Yes,
They be very well,
But such a trouble to me,
"'on account of the children that come here.
"'They will go eatin' the berries on the stem and call them currants.
"'Taste with junivals is quite fancy,
Really.
"'And your snap-dragons look as fierce as ever.
' "'Well,
Really,
' answered Mrs Smith,
"'entering didactically into the subject,
"'they are more like Christians than flowers.
"'But they make up well enough with the rest and don't require much tending.
"'And the same can be said of these Miller's wheels.
"'Tis a flower I like very much.
"'Oh,
So simple.
"'John says he never cares about the flowers on,
"'but men have no eye for anything neat.
"'He says his favourite flower is a cauliflower.
"'And I assure you I tremble in the springtime for tis perfect murder.
' "'You don't say so,
Mrs Smith.
' "'John digs round the roots,
You know.
"'In goes his blundering spade through roots,
Bulbs,
Everything "'that hasn't got a good show above ground,
"'turning them up,
Cut all to slices.
"'Only the very last fall I went to move some tulips "'when I found every bulb upside down "'and the stems crooked round.
"'He had turned them over in the spring.
"'And the cunning creatures had soon found "'that heaven was not where it used to be.
"'What's that long-favoured flower under the edge?
"'They,
Oh Lord,
They are the horrid Jacob's ladders.
' "'Instead of praising him,
I be mad with him "'for being so ready to bide where they are not wanted.
"'They be very well in their way,
"'but I do not care for things that neglect won't kill.
"'Do what I will,
Dig,
Drag,
Scrap,
Pull.
"'I get too many of them.
"'I chop the roots.
"'Up they'll come,
Treble strong.
"'Throw them over edge.
"'There they'll grow,
Staring me in the face "'like an hungry dog driven away "'and creep back again in a week or two,
The same as before.
"'Tis Jacob's ladder here,
Jacob's ladder there.
"'And plant them where nothing in the world will grow.
"'You'll get crowds of them in a month or two.
' "'John made a new manure-mixing last summer,
"'and he said,
"'Maria,
Now if you've got any flowers or such like "'that you don't want,
You may plant them round my mixing "'so as to hide it a bit,
"'though it is not likely anything of much value will grow there.
' "'I thought,
There's them Jacob's ladders.
"'I'll put them there,
"'since they can't do no harm in such a place.
"'And I planted the Jacob's ladders.
"'Sure enough,
They growed,
"'and they growed in the mixing "'and out of the mixing,
All over the litter,
"'covering it quite up.
"'When John wanted to use it about the garden,
"'I said,
"'Nation,
Seize them Jacob's ladders of yours,
Maria.
"'They eat the goodness out of every morsel of my manure,
"'so that it is no better than sand itself.
"'Sure enough,
The hungry mortals add.
"'Tis my belief that in the secret souls of them,
"'Jacob's ladders be weeds,
"'and not flowers at all,
If the truth was known.
' "'Robert Lickpan,
Pig-killer and carrier,
"'arrived at this moment.
"'The fatted animal hanging in the back kitchen "'was cleft down the middle of its backbone,
"'Mrs Smith being meanwhile engaged in cooking supper.
"'Between the cutting and chopping,
"'ale was handed round,
"'and Worm and the pig-killer "'listened to John Smith's description "'of the meeting with Stephen,
"'with eyes blankly fixed upon the tablecloth,
"'in order that nothing in the external world "'should interrupt their efforts "'to conjure up the scene correctly.
"'Stephen came downstairs in the middle of the story,
"'and after the little interruption "'occasioned by his entrance and welcome,
"'the narrative was again continued,
"'precisely as if he had not been there at all,
"'and was told inclusively to him,
"'as to somebody who knew nothing about the matter.
"'Aye,
' I said,
"'as I catch sight on,
Through the brimbles,
"'that's the lad,
"'for I'd know him by his grandfather's walk.
"'For I stepped out like poor father "'for all the world.
"'Still,
There was a touch of the frisky "'that set me wondering.
"'I got closer,
And I said,
"'that's the lad,
"'for I'd know him by his carrying a black case "'like a travelling man.
"'Still,
A road is common to all the world,
"'and there be more travelling men than one.
"'But I kept my eye cocked,
"'and I said to Martin,
"'Tis the boy now,
"'for I'd know him by the old twirl of the stick "'and the family step.
"'Then I come closer,
"'and I said,
"'All right,
"'I could swear to him then.
'" Stephen's personal appearance was next criticised.
"'He'd a look a deal thinner in face,
Surely,
"'than when I see'd in the Parsons,
"'and never know'd him,
If you'll believe me,
' "'said Martin.
"'Ay,
There,
' said another,
"'without removing his eyes from Stephen's face.
"'I should a know'd him anywhere,
"'tis his father's nose,
To a T.
' "'It has been often remarked,
' "'said Stephen,
Modestly.
"'And he's certainly taller,
' "'said Martin,
"'letting his glance run over Stephen's form "'from bottom to top.
' "'I was thinking I was exactly the same height,
' "'Worm replied.
"'Bless thy soul,
"'that's because he's bigger,
Round,
Likewise.
' "'And the united eyes all moved to Stephen's waist.
"'I be a poor,
Wambling man,
"'but I can make allowances,
' "'said William Worm.
"'Ah,
Sure,
"'and how we came as a stranger and pilgrim "'to Parsons' swan courts that time,
"'not a soul knowing it after so many years.
"'Ay,
Life's a strange picture,
Stephen.
"'But I suppose I must say,
Sir,
To you?
' "'Oh,
It is not necessary at present,
' "'Stephen replied,
"'though mentally resolving "'to avoid the vicinity of that familiar friend "'as soon as he had made pretensions "'to the hand of Elfride.
' "'Ah,
Well,
' "'said Worm,
Musingly,
"'some would have looked for no less than a soul.
"'There's a sight of difference in people.
' "'And in pigs,
Likewise,
' observed John Smith,
"'looking at the halved carcass of his own.
"'Robert Lickpan,
The pig-killer,
"'here seemed called upon to enter the lists of conversation.
"'Yes,
They've got their particular natures good now,
' "'he remarked initially.
"'Many's the rum-tempered pig I've knowed.
' "'I don't doubt it,
Master Lickpan,
' answered Martin,
"'in a tone expressing that his convictions,
"'no less than good manners,
Demanded the reply.
"'Yes,
' continued the pig-killer,
"'as one accustomed to be heard,
"'one that I knowed was deaf and dumb.
"'And we couldn't make out "'what was the matter with the pig.
"'I would eat well enough "'when I seed the trough,
"'but when his back was turned,
"'you might a rattled the bucket all day.
"'The poor soul never heard you.
"'You could play tricks upon him behind his back,
"'and I wouldn't find it out no quicker "'than poor deaf Grandma Kate's.
"'But I fatted well,
"'and I never seed a pig open better when I was killed,
"'and I was very tender eating,
"'very.
"'As pretty a bit of mate as ever,
You see.
"'You could suck that mate through a quill.
"'And another I knowed,
' "'resumed the killer,
"'after quietly letting a pint of ale "'run down his throat of its own accord,
"'and setting down the cup with mathematical exactness "'upon the spot from which he had raised it.
"'Another went out of his mind.
"'How very mournful,
' murmured Mrs.
Worm.
"'Ay,
Poor thing.
"'I did.
"'As clean out of his mind "'as the cleverest Christian could go.
"'In early life,
I was very melancholy,
"'and never seed a hopeful pig by no means.
"'Twas Andrew Stainer's pig.
"'That's whose pig t'was.
"'I can mine the pig well enough,
' "'attested John Smith.
"'And a pretty little porker I was.
"'And you all know Farmer Buckle's sort.
"'Every jack-arm suffer from the rheumatism "'to this day,
"'owing to a damp stye they lived in "'when they was striplings as t'were.
"'Well,
Now we'll weigh,
' said John.
"'If so be,
Ee were not so fine.
"'We'd weigh an' all,
"'but as ee is,
We'll take a side at a time.
"'John,
You can mine my old joke,
Eh?
' "'I do so.
"'Though t'was a good few years ago "'I first heard'n.
' "'Yes,
' said Lickpan,
"'that their old familiar joke "'a been in our family for generations,
"'I may say.
"'My father used that joke regular at pig killings "'for more than five-and-forty years "'the time ee followed the calling,
"'and I told me that I had it from his father "'when ee was quite a child,
"'who made use o' it just the same "'at every killing,
More or less,
"'and pig killings were pig killings in those days.
"'Truly they were.
' "'I've never heard the joke,
' "'said Mrs Smith tentatively.
"'Nor I,
' chimed in Mrs Worm,
"'who,
Being the only other lady in the room,
"'felt bound by the laws of courtesy "'to feel like Mrs Smith in everything.
' "'Surely,
Surely you have,
' "'said the killer,
"'looking sceptically at the benighted females.
"'However,
"'tisn't much.
"'I don't wish to say it is.
"'It commences like this.
"'Bob will tell the weight of your pig,
"'I believe,
' says I.
"'The congregation of neighbours "'think I mean my son,
Bob,
Naturally,
"'but the secret is "'that I mean the Bob of the steelyard.
' "'Ha,
Ha,
Ha!
' "'Ha,
Ha,
Ha!
' laughed Martin Canister,
"'who had heard the explanation of this striking story "'for the hundredth time.
"'Ha,
Ha,
Ha!
' laughed John Smith,
"'who had heard it for the thousandth.
"'Ha,
Ha,
Ha!
' laughed William Worm,
"'who had never heard it,
At all,
"'but was afraid to say so.
"'Thy grandfather Robert "'must have been a wide-awake chap "'to make that story,
' "'said Martin Canister,
"'subsiding to a placid aspect "'of delighted criticism.
"'He had a head,
"'by all account.
"'And,
You see,
"'as the firstborn of the Lickpans "'have all been Roberts,
"'they've all been Bobs.
"'So the story was handed down "'to the present day.
"'Poor Joseph,
Your second boy,
"'will never be able to bring it out in company,
"'which is rather unfortunate,
' "'said Mrs.
Worm,
Thoughtfully.
"'I won't.
"'Yes,
Grandfather was a clever chap,
"'as you say.
"'But I knowed a cleverer.
"'Twas my Uncle Levi.
"'Uncle Levi made a snuffbox "'that should be a puzzle "'to his friends to open.
"'He used to hand and round "'at wedding parties,
"'christenings,
Funerals,
"'and in other jolly company,
"'and let them try their skill.
"'This extraordinary snuffbox "'had a spring behind "'that would push in and out,
"'a hinge where seemed to be the cover,
"'a slide at the end,
"'a screw in front,
"'and knobs and queered notches everywhere.
"'One man would try the spring,
"'another would try the screw,
"'another would try the slide.
"'But try as they would,
"'the box wouldn't open.
"'They couldn't open it,
"'and they didn't open it.
"'Now,
What might you think "'was the secret of that box?
' "'All put on an expression "'that their united thoughts "'were inadequate to the occasion.
"'Why,
The box "'wouldn't open at all.
"'I were made not to open,
"'and you might have tried "'till the end of Revelations.
"'Twould have been as now,
"'for the box were glued all round.
"'A very deep man "'to have made such a box.
' "'Yes.
"'Twas like Uncle Levi all over.
"'Twas.
"'I can mind the man very well.
"'Tallest man ever I see'd.
' "'Ah,
Was so.
' "'He never slept upon a bedstead "'after he growed up a hard boy-chap.
"'Never could get one long enough.
"'When I lived in that little small house by the pond,
"'I used to have to leave open his chamber door every night "'and go into his bed "'and let his feet poke out upon the landing.
"'He's dead and gone now nevertheless,
"'poor man,
As we all shall,
' observed Worm,
"'to fill the pause which followed "'the conclusion of Robert Lickpan's speech.
"'The weighing and cutting up "'was pursued amid an animated discourse "'on Stephen's travels,
"'and at the finish,
"'the first fruits of the day's slaughter,
"'fried in onions,
"'were then turned from the pan "'into a dish on the table,
"'each piece steaming and hissing "'till it reached their very mouths.
"'It must be owned "'that the gentlemanly son of the house "'looked rather out of place "'in the course of this operation.
"'Nor was his mind quite philosophic enough "'to allow him to be comfortable "'with these old established persons,
"'his father's friends.
"'He had never lived long at home,
"'scarcely at all since his childhood.
"'The presence of William Worm "'was the most awkward feature of the case,
"'for though Worm had left the house "'of Mr.
Swancourt,
"'the being hand in glove "'with a Cedevant servitor "'reminded Stephen too forcibly "'of the victor's classification of himself "'before he went from England.
"'Mrs.
Smith was conscious "'of the defect in her arrangements "'which had brought about "'the undesired conjunction.
"'She spoke to Stephen privately.
"'I am above having such people here,
Stephen,
"'but what could I do?
"'And your father is so rough in his nature "'that he's more mixed up with them than need be.
' "'Never mind,
Mother,
' said Stephen.
"'I'll put up with it now.
"'When we leave my lord's service "'and get further up the country,
"'as I hope we shall soon,
"'it will be different.
"'We shall be among fresh people "'and in a larger house "'and shall keep ourselves up a bit,
I hope.
"'Is Miss Swancourt at home,
Do you know?
' "'Stephen inquired.
"'Yes,
Your father saw her this morning.
"'Do you often see her?
' "'Scarcely ever.
"'Mr Glimm,
The curate,
Calls occasionally,
"'but the Swancourts don't come into the village now "'any more than to drive through it.
"'They dine at my lord's "'oftener than they used.
"'Ah,
Here's a note "'was brought this morning for you by a boy.
' "'Stephen eagerly took the note and opened it,
"'his mother watching him.
"'He read what Elfride had written and sent "'before she started for the cliff that afternoon.
"'Yes,
I will meet you in the church at nine tonight.
"'E.
S.
"'I don't know,
Stephen,
' "'his mother said meaningly,
"'where you still think about Miss Elfride.
"'But if I were you,
"'I wouldn't concern about her.
"'They say that none of old Mrs Swancourt's money "'will come to her step-daughter.
"'I see the evening has turned out fine.
"'I'm going out for a little while to look round the place,
' "'he said,
Evading the direct query.
"'Probably by the time I return,
"'our visitors will be gone,
"'and we'll have a more confidential talk.
'"
