CHAPTER XIV

emberhowinVirginibus.” “Yes,butthewood.This‘erewood.Howdidyougetoutofit?” “Imanagedonewood,andfoundaroadtheothersidewhichwentagoodbituphill.IratherfancyitwasthoseNorthDowns,fortheroadwentoffintograss,andIgotintoanotherwood.Thatwasawful,withgorsebushes.IdidwishI’dnevercome,butsuddenlyitgotlight—justwhileIseemedgoingunderonetree.ThenIfoundaroaddowntoastation,andtookthefirsttrainIcouldbacktoLondon.” “Butwasthedawnwonderful?”askedHelen. Withunforgettablesincerityhereplied,“No.”Thewordflewagainlikeapebblefromthesling.Downtoppledallthathadseemedignobleorliteraryinhistalk,downtoppledtiresomeR.L.S.andthe“loveoftheearth”andhissilktop-hat.InthepresenceofthesewomenLeonardhadarrived,andhespokewithaflow,anexultation,thathehadseldomknown. “Thedawnwasonlygrey,itwasnothingtomention.” “Justagreyeveningturnedupsidedown.Iknow.” “—andIwastootiredtoliftupmyheadtolookatit,andsocoldtoo.I’mgladIdidit,andyetatthetimeitboredmemorethanIcansay.Andbesides—youcanbelievemeornotasyouchoose—Iwasveryhungry.ThatdinneratWimbledon—Imeantittolastmeallnightlikeotherdinners.Ineverthoughtthatwalkingwouldmakesuchadifference.Why,whenyou’rewalkingyouwant,asitwere,abreakfastandluncheonandteaduringthenightaswell,andI’dnothingbutapacketofWoodbines.Lord,Ididfeelbad!Lookingback,itwasn’twhatyoumaycallenjoyment.Itwasmoreacaseofstickingtoit.Ididstick.I—Iwasdetermined.Oh,hangitall!what’sthegood—Imean,thegoodoflivinginaroomforever?Thereonegoesondayafterday,sameoldgame,sameupanddowntotown,untilyouforgetthereisanyothergame.Yououghttoseeonceinawaywhat’sgoingonoutside,ifit’sonlynothingparticularafterall.” “Ishouldjustthinkyouought,”saidHelen,sittingontheedgeofthetable. Thesoundofalady’svoicerecalledhimfromsincerity,andhesaid:“CuriousitshouldallcomeaboutfromreadingsomethingofRichardJefferies.” “Excuseme,Mr.Bast,butyou’rewrongthere.Itdidn’t.Itcamefromsomethingfargreater.” Butshecouldnotstophim.BorrowwasimminentafterJefferies—Borrow,Thoreau,andsorrow.R.L.S.broughtuptherear,andtheoutburstendedinaswampofbooks.Nodisrespecttothesegreatnames.Thefaultisours,nottheirs.Theymeanustousethemforsign-posts,andarenottoblameif,inourweakness,wemistakethesign-postforthedestination.AndLeonardhadreachedthedestination.HehadvisitedthecountyofSurreywhendarknesscovereditsamenities,anditscosyvillashadre-enteredancientnight.Everytwelvehoursthismiraclehappens,buthehadtroubledtogoandseeforhimself.WithinhiscrampedlittleminddweltsomethingthatwasgreaterthanJefferies’books—thespiritthatledJefferiestowritethemandhisdawn,thoughrevealingnothingbutmonotones,waspartoftheeternalsunrisethatshowsGeorgeBorrowStonehenge. “Thenyoudon’tthinkIwasfoolish?”heaskedbecomingagainthenaiveandsweet-temperedboyforwhomNatureintendedhim. “Heavens,no!”repliedMargaret. “Heavenhelpusifwedo!”repliedHelen. “I’mverygladyousaythat.Now,mywifewouldneverunderstand—notifIexplainedfordays.” “No,itwasn’tfoolish!”criedHelen,hereyesaflame.“You’vepushedbacktheboundariesIthinkitsplendidofyou.” “You’venotbeencontenttodreamaswehave—” “Thoughwehavewalked,too—” “Imustshowyouapictureupstairs—” Herethedoor-bellrang.Thehansomhadcometotakethemtotheireveningparty.