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not to mention that I’m always spending more than I can afford in
bricks and mortar； so that I get savage at a lame beggar when he
asks me for sixpence。 Those poor lean cobblers； who think they
can help to regenerate mankind by setting out to preach in the
morning twilight before they begin their day’s work； may well
have a poor opinion of me。 But come； let us have our luncheon。
Isn’t Kate coming to lunch？”
“Miss Irwine told Bridget to take her lunch upstairs；” said
Carroll； “she can’t leave Miss Anne。”
“Oh； very well。 Tell Bridget to say I’ll go up and see Miss Anne
presently。 You can use your right arm quite well now； Arthur；” Mr。
Irwine continued； observing that Captain Donnithorne had taken
his arm out of the sling。
“Yes； pretty well； but Godwin insists on my keeping it up
constantly for some time to come。 I hope I shall be able to get away
to the regiment； though； in the beginning of August。 It’s a
desperately dull business being shut up at the Chase in the
summer months； when one can neither hunt nor shoot； so as to
make one’s self pleasantly sleepy in the evening。 However； we are
to astonish the echoes on the 30th of July。 My grandfather has
given me carte blanche for once； and I promise you the
entertainment shall be worthy of the occasion。 The world will not
see the grand epoch of my majority twice。 I think I shall have a
lofty throne for you； Godmamma； or rather two； one on the lawn
and another in the ballroom； that you may sit and look down upon
us like an Olympian goddess。”
“I mean to bring out my best brocade； that I wore at your
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christening twenty years ago；” said Mrs。 Irwine。 “Ah； I think I
shall see your poor mother flitting about in her white dress； which
looked to me almost like a shroud that very day； and it was her
shroud only three months after； and your little cap and christening
dress were buried with her too。 She had set her heart on that；
sweet soul！ Thank God you take after your mother’s family；
Arthur。 If you had been a puny； wiry； yellow baby； I wouldn’t have
stood godmother to you。 I should have been sure you would turn
out a Donnithorne。 But you were such a broad…faced； broad…
chested； loud…screaming rascal； I knew you were every inch of you
a Tradgett。”
“But you might have been a little too hasty there； Mother；” said
Mr。 Irwine； smiling。 “Don’t you remember how it was with Juno’s
last pups？ One of them was the very image of its mother； but it
had two or three of its father’s tricks notwithstanding。 Nature is
clever enough to cheat even you； Mother。”
“Nonsense； child！ Nature never makes a ferret in the shape of a
mastiff。 You’ll never persuade me that I can’t tell what men are by
their outsides。 If I don’t like a man’s looks； depend upon it I shall
never like him。 I don’t want to know people that look ugly and
disagreeable； any more than I want to taste dishes that look
disagreeable。 If they make me shudder at the first glance； I say；
take them away。 An ugly； piggish； or fishy eye； now； makes me feel
quite ill； it’s like a bad smell。”
“Talking of eyes；” said Captain Donnithorne； “that reminds me
that I’ve got a book I meant to bring you； Godmamma。 It came
down in a parcel from London the other day。 I know you are fond
of queer； wizard…like stories。 It’s a volume of poems； ‘Lyrical
Ballads。’ Most of them seem to be twaddling stuff； but the first is in
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a different style—‘The Ancient Mariner’ is the title。 I can hardly
make head or tail of it as a story； but it’s a strange； striking thing。
I’ll send it over to you； and there are some other books that you
may like to see； Irwine—pamphlets about Antinomianism and
Evangelicalism； whatever they may be。 I can’t think what the
fellow means by sending such things to me。 I’ve written to him to
desire that from henceforth he will send me no book or pamphlet
on anything that ends in ism。”
“Well； I don’t know that I’m very fond of isms myself； but I may
as well look at the pamphlets； they let one see what is going on。
I’ve a little matter to attend to； Arthur；” continued Mr。 Irwine；
rising to leave the room； “and then I shall be ready to set out with
you。”
The little matter that Mr。 Irwine had to attend to took him up
the old stone staircase （part of the house was very old） and made
him pause before a door at which he knocked gently。 “Come in；”
said a woman’s voice； and he entered a room so darkened by
blinds and curtains that Miss Kate； the thin middle…aged lady
standing by the bedside； would not have had light enough for any
other sort of work than the knitting which lay on the little table
near her。 But at present she was doing what required only the
dimmest light—sponging the aching head that lay on the pillow
with fresh vinegar。 It was a small face； that of the poor sufferer；
perhaps it had once been pretty； but now it was worn and sallow。
Miss Kate came towards her brother and whispered； “Don’t speak
to her； she can’t bear to be spoken to to…day。” Anne’s eyes were
closed； and her brow contracted as if from intense pain。 Mr。 Irwine
went to the bedside and took up one of the delicate hands and
kissed it； a slight pressure from the small fingers told him that it
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was worth…while to have come upstairs for the sake of doing that。
He lingered a moment； looking at her； and then turned away and
left the room； treading very gently—he had taken off his boots and
put on slippers before he came upstairs。 Whoever remembers how
many things he has declined to do even for himself； rather than
have the trouble of putting on or taking off his boots； will not think
this last detail insignificant。
And Mr。 Irwine’s sisters； as any person of family within ten
miles of Broxton could have testified； were such stupid；
uninteresting women！ It was quite a pity handsome； clever Mrs。
Irwine should have had such commonplace daughters。 That fine
old lady herself was worth driving ten miles to see； any day； her
beauty； her well…preserved faculties； and her old…fashioned dignity
made her a graceful subject for conversation in turn with the
King’s health； the sweet new patterns in cotton dresses； the news
from Egypt； and Lord Dacey’s lawsuit； which was fretting poor
Lady Dacey to death。 But no one ever thought of mentioning the
Miss Irwines； except the poor people in Broxton village； who
regarded them as deep in the science of medicine； and spoke of
them vaguely as “the gentlefolks。” If any one had asked old Job
Dummilow who gave him his flannel jacket； he would have
answered； “the gentlefolks； last winter”； and widow Steene dwelt
much on the virtues of the “stuff” the gentlefolks gave her for her
cough。 Under this name too； they were used with great effect as a
means of taming refractory children； so that at the sight of poor
Miss Anne’s sallow face； several small urchins had a terrified sense
that she was cognisant of all their worst misdemeanours； and
knew the precise number of stones with which they had intended
to hit Farme