life； breaking into this； and beginning to destroy like fire the
inferior modes or garments of the present？ And then disease would
be but the sign of the salvation of fire； of the agony of the
greater life to lift us to itself； out of that wherein we are
failing and sinning。 And so we praise the consuming fire of life。〃
〃But surely all cannot fare alike in the new life。〃
〃Far from it。 According to the condition。 But what would be hell
to one； will be quietness； and hope； and progress to another；
because he has left worse behind him； and in this the life asserts
itself； and is。But perhaps you are not interested in such
subjects； Mr。 Sutherland； and I weary you。〃
〃If I have not been interested in them hitherto； I am ready to
become so now。 Let me go with you。〃
〃With pleasure。〃
As I have attempted to tell a great deal about Robert Falconer and
his pursuits elsewhere； I will not here relate the particulars of
their walk through some of the most wretched parts of London。
Suffice it to say that； if Hugh； as he walked home； was not yet
prepared to receive and understand the half of what Falconer had
said about death； and had not yet that faith in God that gives as
perfect a peace for the future of our brothers and sisters； who；
alas！ have as yet been fed with husks； as for that of ourselves； who
have eaten bread of the finest of the wheat； and have been but a
little thankful；he yet felt at least that it was a blessed thing
that these men and women would all diemust all die。 That spectre
from which men shrink； as if it would take from them the last
shivering remnant of existence； he turned to for some consolation
even for them。 He was prepared to believe that they could not be
going to worse in the end； though some of the rich and respectable
and educated might have to receive their evil things first in the
other world； and he was ready to understand that great saying of
Schillerfull of a faith evident enough to him who can look far
enough into the saying：
〃Death cannot be an evil； for it is universal。〃
CHAPTER VIII。
EUPHRA。
Samson。 O that torment should not be confined
To the body's wounds and sores；
But must secret passage find
To the inmost mind。
Dire inflammation； which no cooling herb
Or medicinal liquor can asswage；
Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp。
Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er
To death's benumming opium as my only cure；
Thence faintings； swoonings of despair；
And sense of heaven's desertion。
MILTON。Samson Agonistes。
Hitherto I have chiefly followed the history of my hero； if hero in
any sense he can yet be called。 Now I must leave him for a while；
and take up the story of the rest of the few persons concerned in my
tale。
Lady Emily had gone to Madeira； and Mr。 Arnold had followed。 Mrs。
Elton and Harry； and Margaret； of course； had gone to London。
Euphra was left alone at Arnstead。
A great alteration had taken place in this strange girl。 The
servants were positively afraid of her now； from the butler down to
the kitchen…maid。 She used to go into violent fits of passion； in
which the mere flash of her eyes was overpowering。 These outbreaks
would be followed almost instantaneously by seasons of the deepest
dejection； in which she would confine herself to her room for hours；
or； lame as she was； wander about the house and the Ghost's Walk；
herself pale as a ghost； and looking meagre and wretched。
Also； she became subject to frequent fainting fits； the first of
which took place the night before Hugh's departure； after she had
returned to the house from her interview with him in the Ghost's
Walk。 She was evidently miserable。
For this misery we know that there were very sufficient reasons；
without taking into account the fact that she had no one to
fascinate now。 Her continued lameness； which her restlessness
aggravated； likewise gave her great cause for anxiety。 But I
presume that； even during the early part of her confinement； her
mind had been thrown back upon itself； in that consciousness which
often arises in loneliness and suffering； and that even then she had
begun to feel that her own self was a worse tyrant than the count；
and made her a more wretched slave than any exercise of his unlawful
power could make her。
Some natures will endure an immense amount of misery before they
feel compelled to look there for help； whence all help and healing
comes。 They cannot believe that there is verily an unseen
mysterious power； till the world and all that is in it has vanished
in the smoke of despair； till cause and effect is nothing to the
intellect； and possible glories have faded from the imagination；
then； deprived of all that made life pleasant or hopeful； the
immortal essence； lonely and wretched and unable to cease； looks up
with its now unfettered and wakened instinct； to the source of its
own lifeto the possible God who； notwithstanding all the
improbabilities of his existence； may yet perhaps be； and may yet
perhaps hear his wretched creature that calls。 In this loneliness
of despair； life must find The Life； for joy is gone； and life is
all that is left： it is compelled to seek its source； its root； its
eternal life。 This alone remains as a possible thing。 Strange
condition of despair into which the Spirit of God drives a mana
condition in which the Best alone is the Possible！
Other simpler natures look up at once。 Even before the first pang
has passed away； as by a holy instinct of celestial childhood； they
lift their eyes to the heavens whence cometh their aid。 Of this
class Euphra was not。 She belonged to the former。 And yet even she
had begun to look upward； for the waters had closed above her head。
She betook herself to the one man of whom she had heard as knowing
about God。 She wrote； but no answer came。 Days and days passed
away； and there was no reply。
〃Ah！ just so！〃 she said； in bitterness。 〃And if I cried to God for
ever； I should hear no word of reply。 If he be； he sits apart； and
leaves the weak to be the prey of the bad。 What cares he？〃
Yet； as she spoke； she rose； and； by a sudden impulse； threw herself
on the floor； and cried for the first time：
〃O God； help me！〃
Was there voice or hearing？
She rose at least with a little hope； and with the feeling that if
she could cry to him； it might be that he could listen to her。 It
seemed natural to pray； it seemed to come of itself： that could not
be except it was first natural for God to hear。 The foundation of
her own action must be in him who made her； for her call could be
only a response after all。
The time passed wearily by。 Dim； slow November days came on； with
the fall of the last brown shred of those clouds of living green
that had floated betwixt earth and heaven。 Through the bare boughs
of the overarching avenue of the Ghost's Walk； themselves living
skeletons； she could now look straight up to the blue sky； which had
been there all the time。 And she had begun to look up to a higher
heaven； through the bare skeleton shapes of life； for the foliage of
joy had wholly vanishedshall we say in order that the children of
the spring might come？certainly in order first that the blue sky
of a deeper peace might reflect itself in the hitherto darkened
waters of her soul。
Perhaps some of my readers may think that she had enough to repent
of to keep her from weariness。 She had plenty to repent of； no
doubt； but repentance； between the paroxysms of its bitterness； is a
very dreary and November…like state of the spiritual weather。 For
its foggy mornings and cheerless noons cannot believe in the sun of
spring； soon to ripen into the sun of summer； and its best time is
the night； that shuts out the world and weeps its fill of slow
tears。 But she was not altogether so blameworthy as she may have
appeared。 Her affectations had not been altogether false。 She
valued； and in a measure possessed； the feelings for which she
sought credit。 She had a genuine enjoyment of nature； though after
a sensuous； Keats…like fashion； not a Wordsworthian。 It was the
body； rather than the soul； of nature that she lovedits beauty
rather than its truth。 Had her love of nature been of the deepest；
she would have turned aside to conceal her emotions rather than have
held them up as allurements in the eyes of her companion。 But as no
body and no beauty can exist without soul and truth； she who loves
the former must at least be capable of loving the deeper essence to
which they owe their very existence。
This view of her character is borne out by her love of music and her
liking for Hugh。 Both were genuine。 Had the latter been either more
or less genuine than it was； the task of fascination would have been
more difficult； and its success less complete。 Whether her own
feelings became further involved than she had calculated upon； I
cannot tell； but surely it says something for her； in any case； that
she desired to retain Hugh as her friend； instead of hating him
because he had been her lover。
How glad she would have been of Harry now！ The days crawled one
after the ot