Episode 8

Nonsense!that will come with time.You are young:all your life is before you.Now look--see how far back in the mists of antiquity my own family of Swancourt have a root.Here,you see,

he continued,turning to the page,is Geoffrey,the one among my ancestors who lost a barony because he would cut his joke.Ah,its the sort of us!But the story is too long to tell now.Ay,Im a poor man--a poor gentleman,in fact:those I would be friends with,wont be friends with me;those who are willing to be friends with me,I am above being friends with.Beyond dining with a neighbouring incumbent or two.and an occasional chat--sometimes dinner--with Lord Luxellian,a connection of mine,I am in absolute solitude--absolute.

You have your studies,your books,and your--daughter.

Oh yes,yes;and I dont complain of poverty.Canto coram latrone.Well,Mr.Smith,dont let me detain you any longer in a sick room.Ha!that reminds me of a story I once heard in my younger days.Here the vicar began a series of small private laughs,and Stephen looked inquiry.Oh,no,no!it is too bad--

too bad to tell!continued Mr.Swancourt in undertones of grim mirth.Well,go downstairs;my daughter must do the best she can with you this evening.Ask her to sing to you--she plays and sings very nicely.Good-night;I feel as if I had known you for five or six years.Ill ring for somebody to show you down.

Never mind,said Stephen,I can find the way.And he went downstairs,thinking of the delightful freedom of manner in the remoter counties in comparison with the reserve of London.

I forgot to tell you that my father was rather deaf,said Elfride anxiously,when Stephen entered the little drawing-room.

Never mind;I know all about it,and we are great friends,the man of business replied enthusiastically.And,Miss Swancourt,will you kindly sing to me?

To Miss Swancourt this request seemed,what in fact it was,exceptionally point-blank;though she guessed that her father had some hand in framing it,knowing,rather to her cost,of his unceremonious way of utilizing her for the benefit of dull sojourners.At the same time,as Mr.Smiths manner was too frank to provoke criticism,and his age too little to inspire fear,she was ready--not to say pleased--to accede.Selecting from the canterbury some old family ditties,that in years gone by had been played and sung by her mother,Elfride sat down to the pianoforte,and began,"Twas on the evening of a winters day,in a pretty contralto voice.

Do you like that old thing,Mr.Smith?she said at the end.

Yes,I do much,said Stephen--words he would have uttered,and sincerely,to anything on earth,from glee to requiem,that she might have chosen.

You shall have a little one by De Leyre,that was given me by a young French lady who was staying at Endelstow House:

"Je lai plante,je lai vu naitre,Ce beau rosier ou les oiseaux,"&c.;

and then I shall want to give you my own favourite for the very last,Shelleys "When the lamp is shattered,"as set to music by my poor mother.I so much like singing to anybody who REALLY

cares to hear me.

Every woman who makes a permanent impression on a man is usually recalled to his minds eye as she appeared in one particular scene,which seems ordained to be her special form of manifestation throughout the pages of his memory.As the patron Saint has her attitude and accessories in mediaeval illumination,so the sweetheart may be said to have hers upon the table of her true Loves fancy,without which she is rarely introduced there except by effort;and this though she may,on further acquaintance,have been observed in many other phases which one would imagine to be far more appropriate to loves young dream.