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His
father
’
s
hill
-
surrounded
little
town
,
the
Tudor
church
-
tower
of
red
stone
,
the
clump
of
trees
near
the
Vicarage
,
came
at
last
into
view
beneath
him
,
and
he
rode
down
towards
the
well
-
known
gate
.
Casting
a
glance
in
the
direction
of
the
church
before
entering
his
home
,
he
beheld
standing
by
the
vestry
-
door
a
group
of
girls
,
of
ages
between
twelve
and
sixteen
,
apparently
awaiting
the
arrival
of
some
other
one
,
who
in
a
moment
became
visible
;
a
figure
somewhat
older
than
the
school
-
girls
,
wearing
a
broad
-
brimmed
hat
and
highly
-
starched
cambric
morning
-
gown
,
with
a
couple
of
books
in
her
hand
.
Clare
knew
her
well
.
He
could
not
be
sure
that
she
observed
him
;
he
hoped
she
did
not
,
so
as
to
render
it
unnecessary
that
he
should
go
and
speak
to
her
,
blameless
creature
that
she
was
.
An
overpowering
reluctance
to
greet
her
made
him
decide
that
she
had
not
seen
him
.
The
young
lady
was
Miss
Mercy
Chant
,
the
only
daughter
of
his
father
’
s
neighbour
and
friend
,
whom
it
was
his
parents
’
quiet
hope
that
he
might
wed
some
day
.
She
was
great
at
Antinomianism
and
Bible
-
classes
,
and
was
plainly
going
to
hold
a
class
now
.
Clare
’
s
mind
flew
to
the
impassioned
,
summer
-
steeped
heathens
in
the
Var
Vale
,
their
rosy
faces
court
-
patched
with
cow
-
droppings
;
and
to
one
the
most
impassioned
of
them
all
.
It
was
on
the
impulse
of
the
moment
that
he
had
resolved
to
trot
over
to
Emminster
,
and
hence
had
not
written
to
apprise
his
mother
and
father
,
aiming
,
however
,
to
arrive
about
the
breakfast
hour
,
before
they
should
have
gone
out
to
their
parish
duties
.
He
was
a
little
late
,
and
they
had
already
sat
down
to
the
morning
meal
.
The
group
at
the
table
jumped
up
to
welcome
him
as
soon
as
he
entered
.
They
were
his
father
and
mother
,
his
brother
the
Reverend
Felix
—
curate
at
a
town
in
the
adjoining
county
,
home
for
the
inside
of
a
fortnight
—
and
his
other
brother
,
the
Reverend
Cuthbert
,
the
classical
scholar
,
and
Fellow
and
Dean
of
his
College
,
down
from
Cambridge
for
the
long
vacation
.
His
mother
appeared
in
a
cap
and
silver
spectacles
,
and
his
father
looked
what
in
fact
he
was
—
an
earnest
,
God
-
fearing
man
,
somewhat
gaunt
,
in
years
about
sixty
-
five
,
his
pale
face
lined
with
thought
and
purpose
.
Over
their
heads
hung
the
picture
of
Angel
’
s
sister
,
the
eldest
of
the
family
,
sixteen
years
his
senior
,
who
had
married
a
missionary
and
gone
out
to
Africa
.
Old
Mr
Clare
was
a
clergyman
of
a
type
which
,
within
the
last
twenty
years
,
has
wellnigh
dropped
out
of
contemporary
life
.
A
spiritual
descendant
in
the
direct
line
from
Wycliff
,
Huss
,
Luther
,
Calvin
;
an
Evangelical
of
the
Evangelicals
,
a
Conversionist
,
a
man
of
Apostolic
simplicity
in
life
and
thought
,
he
had
in
his
raw
youth
made
up
his
mind
once
for
all
in
the
deeper
questions
of
existence
,
and
admitted
no
further
reasoning
on
them
thenceforward
.
He
was
regarded
even
by
those
his
own
date
and
school
of
thinking
as
extreme
;
while
,
on
the
other
hand
,
those
totally
opposed
to
him
were
unwillingly
won
to
admiration
for
his
thoroughness
,
and
for
the
remarkable
power
he
showed
in
dismissing
all
question
as
to
principles
in
his
energy
for
applying
them
.
He
loved
Paul
of
Tarsus
,
liked
St
John
,
hated
St
James
as
much
as
he
dared
,
and
regarded
with
mixed
feelings
Timothy
,
Titus
,
and
Philemon
.
The
New
Testament
was
less
a
Christiad
then
a
Pauliad
to
his
intelligence
—
less
an
argument
than
an
intoxication
.
His
creed
of
determinism
was
such
that
it
almost
amounted
to
a
vice
,
and
quite
amounted
,
on
its
negative
side
,
to
a
renunciative
philosophy
which
had
cousinship
with
that
of
Schopenhauer
and
Leopardi
.
He
despised
the
Canons
and
Rubric
,
swore
by
the
Articles
,
and
deemed
himself
consistent
through
the
whole
category
—
which
in
a
way
he
might
have
been
.
One
thing
he
certainly
was
—
sincere
.
To
the
aesthetic
,
sensuous
,
pagan
pleasure
in
natural
life
and
lush
womanhood
which
his
son
Angel
had
lately
been
experiencing
in
Var
Vale
,
his
temper
would
have
been
antipathetic
in
a
high
degree
,
had
he
either
by
inquiry
or
imagination
been
able
to
apprehend
it
.
Once
upon
a
time
Angel
had
been
so
unlucky
as
to
say
to
his
father
,
in
a
moment
of
irritation
,
that
it
might
have
resulted
far
better
for
mankind
if
Greece
had
been
the
source
of
the
religion
of
modern
civilization
,
and
not
Palestine
;
and
his
father
’
s
grief
was
of
that
blank
description
which
could
not
realize
that
there
might
lurk
a
thousandth
part
of
a
truth
,
much
less
a
half
truth
or
a
whole
truth
,
in
such
a
proposition
.
He
had
simply
preached
austerely
at
Angel
for
some
time
after
.
But
the
kindness
of
his
heart
was
such
that
he
never
resented
anything
for
long
,
and
welcomed
his
son
today
with
a
smile
which
was
as
candidly
sweet
as
a
child
’
s
.
Angel
sat
down
,
and
the
place
felt
like
home
;
yet
he
did
not
so
much
as
formerly
feel
himself
one
of
the
family
gathered
there
.
Every
time
that
he
returned
hither
he
was
conscious
of
this
divergence
,
and
since
he
had
last
shared
in
the
Vicarage
life
it
had
grown
even
more
distinctly
foreign
to
his
own
than
usual
.
Its
transcendental
aspirations
—
still
unconsciously
based
on
the
geocentric
view
of
things
,
a
zenithal
paradise
,
a
nadiral
hell
—
were
as
foreign
to
his
own
as
if
they
had
been
the
dreams
of
people
on
another
planet
.
Latterly
he
had
seen
only
Life
,
felt
only
the
great
passionate
pulse
of
existence
,
unwarped
,
uncontorted
,
untrammelled
by
those
creeds
which
futilely
attempt
to
check
what
wisdom
would
be
content
to
regulate
.
On
their
part
they
saw
a
great
difference
in
him
,
a
growing
divergence
from
the
Angel
Clare
of
former
times
.
It
was
chiefly
a
difference
in
his
manner
that
they
noticed
just
now
,
particularly
his
brothers
.
He
was
getting
to
behave
like
a
farmer
;
he
flung
his
legs
about
;
the
muscles
of
his
face
had
grown
more
expressive
;
his
eyes
looked
as
much
information
as
his
tongue
spoke
,
and
more
.
The
manner
of
the
scholar
had
nearly
disappeared
;
still
more
the
manner
of
the
drawing
-
room
young
man
.
A
prig
would
have
said
that
he
had
lost
culture
,
and
a
prude
that
he
had
become
coarse
.
Such
was
the
contagion
of
domiciliary
fellowship
with
the
Talbothays
nymphs
and
swains
.
