Thyrza

ted; thick curtains encroached upon each side of the narrow window, which was also shadowed above by a valance with long tassels, whilst in front of it stood a tabl

st men, tended in the same direction, this sitting-room, which they used in common, had known little disturbance since they entered it a year and a hal

and stalls during the past fifteen years. Their variety indicated a mind of liberal intelligence. Works of history and biography predominated, but poetry and fict

anslations of sundry works of Swedenborg, and productions put forth by the Church of the New Jerusalem. Mrs. Grail was a member of that church. She occasionally visited a meeting-place in Brixton,

y, then going forth closely veiled. With the landlady she held no more intercourse than arose from the weekly payment of rent; the other lodgers in the house only saw her by chance on rare occasions. Her son left home and returned with much regularity, he also seeming to desire privacy above all things. Mrs. Jarmey had at first been disposed to take this reserve somewhat ill. When she knocked at Mrs. Grail's door on som

ew months they had overcome this reluctance, and were now on a certain footing of intimacy with Mrs. Grail, who made it no secret that she took great interest in Thyrza. Thyrza always entered the sitting-room with a feeling of awe. The dim light, the old lady's low voice, above all, the books-in her eyes a remarkable library-impressed her

nly other table at which she sometimes sat as a guest was Mrs. Bower's; between the shopkeeper's gross good-nature and the well-mannered kindness of Mrs. Grail there was a broad distinction, and Thyrza was very ready to appreciate it. For she was sensible of refinements; numberless little personal delicacies distinguished her from the average girl of her

er return. 'Downstairs they treat me as if I was a lady,' and it was s

ort of shyness with which she had troubled him since the beginning of their acquaintance. It was noticeable in his manner this evening when he shook hands with a murmured word or two. Thyrza, however, appeared a little less timid than usual; she j

that this always seemed luxurious. By degrees she had permitted herself to lean back in it. She did so want Lyddy to know what it was like to s

arrival this evening. 'They're going to chape

my dear,' murmured the old lady, pre

it was her birthplace, and through life she had never strayed far away. She regarded the growth of population, the crowding of mean houses where open spaces used to

any mysteries, let her eyes stray over the bookshelves. She felt it very unlikely that any book there would be within the compass of her understanding; doubtless they dealt with the secrets of learning-the strange, high things

go to Westm

ravity of expression which showed that he had a pleasure in the girl's proximity. Whe

,' Thyrza made answer.

en buried for hundreds of years. I should like, if

the graves?'

ey were that lie there. There are the graves

ings! Who were

air, and her fingers just touched her chin. S

ks,' he answered,

o the people who wrote them; indeed, she had perhaps never asked herself how printed matter came into existence. Even

t cont

and out of spirits, I go there, and it makes me feel as if I daren't

y to an untaught child. With those who were far more li

rail,' Thyrza said with surprise,

I've had very little either of time or means to teach myself. If I only knew those fe

'But I never thought anybody had so

lished in England is sent there. There's a large room where people sit and study an

se,' Thyrza remarked. 'They hav

. But they haven't to

ess. Thyrza glanced at him; he seemed to have forgotten her pr

ar Thyrza, and, after a little more of he

something to r

r colour, not above Thyrza's understanding. It contained a life of Sir Thomas More, o

nicely,' was Mrs.

ntly, leaning a little forward in her chair, her hands folded together. Gilbert, if he raised his eyes from the page, did not look at her. Mrs. Grail interrupted once or twice with a

n her! Here, indeed, was something remote from her tedious life. Her brain was full of vague glories, of the figures of kings and queens, of courtiers and fair ladies, of things nobly said and done; and her heart throbbed with indignation at wrongs greater than any she had ever imagined. When it had all happened she knew not; surely ve

! Better still, she must read it

il? Could you lend it me for a day

Gilbert answered. His voice changed som

hands. She would not look into it till alone in her room

Mrs. Grail said

soon,' was the reply. 'I

them, and they heard her ru

seemed to be absorbed in it; Mrs. Grail had a face of meditation. Occasionally she l

began at length

s and regarded he

's face reminded me of. Every time I see her, I make sure I'v

sis and resemblances were dear to her; possibly the Biblical theories whi

she remind you

nk of. You remember the school in L

wenty years gone by, when Gilbert

ant teacher taken on. Now can you think what her name was? You must remember that Lizzie used

led and sho

ther. I don't even re

rdinary things, Gilbert! I wonder

's the co

face. It's just come to me.

ve that woman's face still in your min

ongue! To be sure; Miss Denny! A pale, sad-looking little thing, she was. Often and often I've been at the window and seen her coming along the street hand in h

smiled very

thing if it turns out

oke to her, though she went backwards and forwards past our house in Brook Street for nearly two years. Then I didn't see her any more. Depend upo

dly satisfied. Again a

'I'm sure Lydia's one of the most careful girls I ever knew. Bu

on the book. His mother just glanc

not girls for going out much, I can see. And Thyrza's always glad when I

when her son had settled down to read. Gilbert averted hi

d knows

him closely. He seeme

to you about

ned them onc

goes out to chapel,' the o

don't t

t, that Mrs. Grail made an end of her remar

, 'Don't sit long, my dear.' Every night she took leave of him with the same words, and they were not needle

e had risen to a weekly income of forty shillings, occasionally increased by pay for overtime. Beyond this he was not likely to get. Men younger than he had passed him, attaining the position of foreman and the like; some had earned money by inventions which they put at the service of th

e loved literature passionately, and hungered to know the history of man's mind through all the ages. This distinguished him markedly from the not uncommon working man who zealously pursues some chosen branch of study. Such men ordinarily take up subjects of practical bearing; physical science is wont to be their field; or if they study history it is from the point of view of current politics. Taste for literature pure and simple, and disinterested love of historical search, are the rarest things among the self-taught; naturally so, seeing how seldom they come of anything but academical tillage of the right soil. The average man of education is fond of literature because the environment of his growth has made such fondness a second nature. Gilbert had conceived his passion by mere grace. It had developed in him sl

just married, spoke to him with uncompromising common sense; if he chose to incapacitate himself, he must not look to his relatives to support him. Silently Gilbert acquiesced; silently he went back to the factory, and, when he came home of nights, sat with eyes gazing blankly before him. His mother lived with him, she and his sister; the latter went out t

xceeded the allotted hours at night, he did not feel the same evil results as formerly. His sister was a very dear companion to him; she had his own tastes in a simpler form, and woman's tact enabled her to draw him into the repose of congenial talk when s

f his shelves. When both he and Lizzie earned wages, the future did not give much trouble, but now all providence was demanded. His brother in the Midlands made contributi

t? His life was speeding by; already the best years were gone, the years of youth and force and hope-nay, hope he could not be said to have known, unless it were for a short space when first the purpose of his being dawned upon consciousness; and the end of that had been bitter enough. The purpose he knew was frustrated. The 'Might have been,' which is 'also called No more, Too late, Farewell,' often stared him in the eyes with those unchanging orbs of ghastliness, chilling the flow of his blood and m

on. On summer evenings, when other young fellows were ready enough in finding companions for their walk, Gilbert would stray alone in the quietest streets until he tired himself; then go home and brood over fruitless longings. In love, as afterwards in study, he had his ideal; sometimes he would catch a glimpse of some face in the street at night, and would wa

ndness was Luke Ackroyd. Ackroyd came to the factory shortly after Gilbert had gone to live in Walnut Tree Walk, and in the course of a few weeks the two had got into the habit of walking their common way homewards together. As might have been anticipated, it was a character very unlike his own which had at length attached Gilbert. To begin with, Ackroyd was pronounced in radicalism, was aggressive and at times noisy; then, he was far from possessing Grail's moral stability, and did not care to conceal his ways of amusing himself; lastly, his intellectual tastes were of the scientific order. Yet Gilbert from the first liked him; he felt that there was no little good in the fellow, if only it could be fostered at the expense of his weaker characteristics. Yet those very weaknesses had much to do

ll from his hands. His countenance was fixed in a supreme sadness, his lips were tightly closed, and at times moved, as if in the suppression of pain. Hopelessness in youth, unless it be justified by some direst ruin of the future, is wont to touch us either with impatience or with a comforting sense that reaction is at hand; in a man of middle age it moves us with pure pathos. The sight of Gilbert as he sat thus motionless would have brought tears to kindly eyes. The past was a burden on his memory, the future lay before him like a long road over which

Before entering his bedroom, which was next to the parlour, he went to the house-door and opened it quietly. A soft rain was falling. Leaving the door ajar, he

me for breakfast and dinner. When he entered at mid-day on Monday, his mother pointed to a le

onder?' he said, as h

printed slip which looked like

ge. You have been mentioned to me as one likely to be interested in the subject I propose to deal with. I permit myself to send you a printed syllabus of the course, and to say that it will give me great pleasure if you are able to attend. I should like to arrange for two lectures weekly, each of an hour's duration; the days I leave undec

have the pleasure of meeting you on the

R EGRE

Saturday,' Gilbert remarked, holding the le

. Egremont?' as

Ackroyd tells me. You know that big factory in W

us; it interested him, and he kept it b

f going?' his m

lege. He may have something to say, and he may be only conceited; there's no knowing. Still, I

waiting for the bell to ring; some talked and joked, some amused themselves with horse-play. The narrow str

on a door-step, smoking a pipe. Grail took a seat beside hi

ll show of interest. There was an unaccustomed gloo

ur names and addres

, no d

ower to know any

entioned yo

you think

o. It isn't at

became

d presently, as his companion p

headache,

. Gilbert fixed his

erring to Egremont's invitation. 'We shall be having an election before long,

the other, musingly, 'I sh

lse can

the man, but he may have an

oing. What the devil do I want with his help? Ca

good deal of use, if the man knows his subject well. But,' he

he fellow to have so much time that

use it wor

get a bad name, then it 'ud be easier to a

an unmirthful way. The factory bell rang; Gilbert rose and waited for the ot

gh of it; I feel Mondayish, as

you comi

and get dru

an. No good in

can't go back to wo

The bell was clanging its last strokes; Gilbert hurried to the do

d that his mother had something to say. She cast frequent glanc

of kindness. By living so long together and in such close intercou

g of solemnity, 'I was perfectly righ

nse

hyrza. She knows that was her mother's name,

to say. You're a wonderful old

st in them than ever. And the child seemed so pleased too! She could scarcely believe that I'd known her m

e no further remark. Th