Stephen retraced his steps towards the cottage he had visited only two or three hours previously. He drew near and under the rich foliage growing about the outskirts of Endelstow Park, the spotty lights and shades from the shining moon maintaining a race over his head and down his back in an endless gambol. When he crossed the plank bridge and entered the garden-gate, he saw an illuminated figure coming from the enclosed plot towards the house on the other side. It was his father, with his hand in a sling, taking a general moonlight view of the garden, and particularly of a plot of the youngest of young turnips, previous to closing the cottage for the night. + 

He saluted his son with customary force. вАЬHallo, Stephen! We should haвАЩ been in bed in another ten minutes. Come to see whatвАЩs the matter wiвАЩ me, I suppose, my lad?вАЭ + 

The doctor had come and gone, and the hand had been pronounced as injured but slightly, though it might possibly have been considered a far more serious case if Mr.¬†Smith had been a more important man. StephenвАЩs anxious inquiry drew from his father words of regret at the inconvenience to the world of his doing nothing for the next two days, rather than of concern for the pain of the accident. Together they entered the house. + 

John SmithвБ†вАФbrown as autumn as to skin, white as winter as to clothesвБ†вАФwas a satisfactory specimen of the village artificer in stone. In common with most rural mechanics, he had too much individuality to be a typical вАЬworkingmanвАЭвБ†вАФa resultant of that beach-pebble attrition with his kind only to be experienced in large towns, which metamorphoses the unit Self into a fraction of the unit Class. + 

There was not the speciality in his labour which distinguishes the handicraftsmen of towns. Though only a mason, strictly speaking, he was not above handling a brick, if bricks were the order of the day; or a slate or tile, if a roof had to be covered before the wet weather set in, and nobody was near who could do it better. Indeed, on one or two occasions in the depth of winter, when frost peremptorily forbids all use of the trowel, making foundations to settle, stones to fly, and mortar to crumble, he had taken to felling and sawing trees. Moreover, he had practised gardening in his own plot for so many years that, on an emergency, he might have made a living by that calling. + 

Probably our countryman was not such an accomplished artificer in a particular direction as his town brethren in the trades. But he was, in truth, like that clumsy pin-maker who made the whole pin, and who was despised by Adam Smith on that account and respected by Macaulay, much more the artist nevertheless. + 

Appearing now, indoors, by the light of the candle, his stalwart healthiness was a sight to see. His beard was close and knotted as that of a chiselled Hercules; his shirt sleeves were partly rolled up, his waistcoat unbuttoned; the difference in hue between the snowy linen and the ruddy arms and face contrasting like the white of an egg and its yolk. Mrs.¬†Smith, on hearing them enter, advanced from the pantry. + 

Mrs.¬†Smith was a matron whose countenance addressed itself to the mind rather than to the eye, though not exclusively. She retained her personal freshness even now, in the prosy afternoon-time of her life; but what her features were primarily indicative of was a sound common sense behind them; as a whole, appearing to carry with them a sort of argumentative commentary on the world in general. + 

The details of the accident were then rehearsed by StephenвАЩs father, in the dramatic manner also common to Martin Cannister, other individuals of the neighbourhood, and the rural world generally. Mrs.¬†Smith threw in her sentiments between the acts, as Coryphaeus of the tragedy, to make the description complete. The story at last came to an end, as the longest will, and Stephen directed the conversation into another channel. + 

вАЬWell, mother, they know everything about me now,вАЭ he said quietly. + 

вАЬWell done!вАЭ replied his father; вАЬnow my mindвАЩs at peace.вАЭ + 

вАЬI blame myselfвБ†вАФI never shall forgive myselfвБ†вАФfor not telling them before,вАЭ continued the young man. + 

Mrs.¬†Smith at this point abstracted her mind from the former subject. вАЬI donвАЩt see what you have to grieve about, Stephen,вАЭ she said. вАЬPeople who accidentally get friends donвАЩt, as a first stroke, tell the history of their families.вАЭ + 

вАЬYeвАЩve done no wrong, certainly,вАЭ said his father. + 

вАЬNo; but I should have spoken sooner. ThereвАЩs more in this visit of mine than you thinkвБ†вАФa good deal more.вАЭ + 

вАЬNot more than I think,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Smith replied, looking contemplatively at him. Stephen blushed; and his father looked from one to the other in a state of utter incomprehension. + 

вАЬSheвАЩs a pretty piece enough,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Smith continued, вАЬand very ladylike and clever too. But though sheвАЩs very well fit for you as far as that is, why, mercy вАЩpon me, what ever do you want any woman at all for yet?вАЭ + 

John made his naturally short mouth a long one, and wrinkled his forehead. вАЬThatвАЩs the way the wind dвАЩblow, is it?вАЭ he said. + 

вАЬMother,вАЭ exclaimed Stephen, вАЬhow absurdly you speak! Criticizing whether sheвАЩs fit for me or no, as if there were room for doubt on the matter! Why, to marry her would be the great blessing of my lifeвБ†вАФsocially and practically, as well as in other respects. No such good fortune as that, IвАЩm afraid; sheвАЩs too far above me. Her family doesnвАЩt want such country lads as I in it.вАЭ + 

вАЬThen if they donвАЩt want you, IвАЩd see them dead corpses before IвАЩd want them, and go to better families who do want you.вАЭ + 

вАЬAh, yes; but I could never put up with the distaste of being welcomed among such people as you mean, whilst I could get indifference among such people as hers.вАЭ + 

вАЬWhat crazy twist oвАЩ thinking will enter your head next?вАЭ said his mother. вАЬAnd come to that, sheвАЩs not a bit too high for you, or you too low for her. See how careful I be to keep myself up. IвАЩm sure I never stop for more than a minute together to talk to any journeymen people; and I never invite anybody to our party oвАЩ Christmases who are not in business for themselves. And I talk to several toppermost carriage people that come to my lordвАЩs without saying maвАЩam or sir to вАЩem, and they take it as quiet as lambs.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou curtseyed to the vicar, mother; and I wish you hadnвАЩt.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut it was before he called me by my Christian name, or he would have got very little curtseying from me!вАЭ said Mrs.¬†Smith, bridling and sparkling with vexation. вАЬYou go on at me, Stephen, as if I were your worst enemy! What else could I do with the man to get rid of him, banging it into me and your father by side and by seam, about his greatness, and what happened when he was a young fellow at college, and I donвАЩt know what-all; the tongue oвАЩ en flopping round his mouth like a mop-rag round a dairy. That вАЩa did, didnвАЩt he, John?вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs about the size oвАЩt,вАЭ replied her husband. + 

вАЬEvery woman nowadays,вАЭ resumed Mrs.¬†Smith, вАЬif she marry at all, must expect a father-in-law of a rank lower than her father. The men have gone up so, and the women have stood still. Every man you meet is more the dand than his father; and you are just level wiвАЩ her.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs what she thinks herself.вАЭ + 

вАЬIt only shows her sense. I knew she was after вАЩee, StephenвБ†вАФI knew it.вАЭ + 

вАЬAfter me! Good Lord, what next!вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd I really must say again that you ought not to be in such a hurry, and wait for a few years. You might go higher than a bankrupt paвАЩsonвАЩs girl then.вАЭ + 

вАЬThe fact is, mother,вАЭ said Stephen impatiently, вАЬyou donвАЩt know anything about it. I shall never go higher, because I donвАЩt want to, nor should I if I lived to be a hundred. As to you saying that sheвАЩs after me, I donвАЩt like such a remark about her, for it implies a scheming woman, and a man worth scheming for, both of which are not only untrue, but ludicrously untrue, of this case. IsnвАЩt it so, father?вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm afraid I donвАЩt understand the matter well enough to gie my opinion,вАЭ said his father, in the tone of the fox who had a cold and could not smell. + 

вАЬShe couldnвАЩt have been very backward anyhow, considering the short time you have known her,вАЭ said his mother. вАЬWell I think that five years hence youвАЩll be plenty young enough to think of such things. And really she can very well afford to wait, and will too, take my word. Living down in an out-step place like this, I am sure she ought to be very thankful that you took notice of her. SheвАЩd most likely have died an old maid if you hadnвАЩt turned up.вАЭ + 

вАЬAll nonsense,вАЭ said Stephen, but not aloud. + 

вАЬA nice little thing she is,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Smith went on in a more complacent tone now that Stephen had been talked down; вАЬthereвАЩs not a word to say against her, IвАЩll own. I see her sometimes decked out like a horse going to fair, and I admire her forвАЩt. A perfect little lady. But people canвАЩt help their thoughts, and if sheвАЩd learnt to make figures instead of letters when she was at school вАЩtwould have been better for her pocket; for as I said, there never were worse times for such as she than now.вАЭ + 

вАЬNow, now, mother!вАЭ said Stephen with smiling deprecation. + 

вАЬBut I will!вАЭ said his mother with asperity. вАЬI donвАЩt read the papers for nothing, and I know men all move up a stage by marriage. Men of her class, that is, parsons, marry squiresвАЩ daughters; squires marry lordsвАЩ daughters; lords marry dukesвАЩ daughters; dukes marry queensвАЩ daughters. All stages of gentlemen mate a stage higher; and the lowest stage of gentlewomen are left single, or marry out of their class.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut you said just now, dear motherвБ†вАФвАЭ retorted Stephen, unable to resist the temptation of showing his mother her inconsistency. Then he paused. + 

вАЬWell, what did I say?вАЭ And Mrs.¬†Smith prepared her lips for a new campaign. + 

Stephen, regretting that he had begun, since a volcano might be the consequence, was obliged to go on. + 

вАЬYou said I wasnвАЩt out of her class just before.вАЭ + 

вАЬYes, there, there! ThatвАЩs you; thatвАЩs my own flesh and blood. IвАЩll warrant that youвАЩll pick holes in everything your mother says, if you can, Stephen. You are just like your father for that; take anybodyвАЩs part but mine. Whilst I am speaking and talking and trying and slaving away for your good, you are waiting to catch me out in that way. So you are in her class, but вАЩtis what her people would call marrying out of her class. DonвАЩt be so quarrelsome, Stephen!вАЭ + 

Stephen preserved a discreet silence, in which he was imitated by his father, and for several minutes nothing was heard but the ticking of the green-faced case-clock against the wall. + 

вАЬIвАЩm sure,вАЭ added Mrs.¬†Smith in a more philosophic tone, and as a terminative speech, вАЬif thereвАЩd been so much trouble to get a husband in my time as there is in these daysвБ†вАФwhen you must make a god-almighty of a man to get en to hae yeвБ†вАФIвАЩd have trod clay for bricks before IвАЩd ever have lowered my dignity to marry, or thereвАЩs no bread in nine loaves.вАЭ + 

The discussion now dropped, and as it was getting late, Stephen bade his parents farewell for the evening, his mother none the less warmly for their sparring; for although Mrs.¬†Smith and Stephen were always contending, they were never at enmity. + 

вАЬAnd possibly,вАЭ said Stephen, вАЬI may leave here altogether tomorrow; I donвАЩt know. So that if I shouldnвАЩt call again before returning to London, donвАЩt be alarmed, will you?вАЭ + 

вАЬBut didnвАЩt you come for a fortnight?вАЭ said his mother. вАЬAnd havenвАЩt you a monthвАЩs holiday altogether? They are going to turn you out, then?вАЭ + 

вАЬNot at all. I may stay longer; I may go. If I go, you had better say nothing about my having been here, for her sake. At what time of the morning does the carrier pass Endelstow lane?вАЭ + 

вАЬSeven oвАЩclock.вАЭ + 

And then he left them. His thoughts were, that should the vicar permit him to become engaged, to hope for an engagement, or in any way to think of his beloved Elfride, he might stay longer. Should he be forbidden to think of any such thing, he resolved to go at once. And the latter, even to young hopefulness, seemed the more probable alternative. + 

Stephen walked back to the vicarage through the meadows, as he had come, surrounded by the soft musical purl of the water through little weirs, the modest light of the moon, the freshening smell of the dews outspread around. It was a time when mere seeing is meditation, and meditation peace. Stephen was hardly philosopher enough to avail himself of NatureвАЩs offer. His constitution was made up of very simple particulars; was one which, rare in the springtime of civilizations, seems to grow abundant as a nation gets older, individuality fades, and education spreads; that is, his brain had extraordinary receptive powers, and no great creativeness. Quickly acquiring any kind of knowledge he saw around him, and having a plastic adaptability more common in woman than in man, he changed colour like a chameleon as the society he found himself in assumed a higher and more artificial tone. He had not many original ideas, and yet there was scarcely an idea to which, under proper training, he could not have added a respectable coordinate. + 

He saw nothing outside himself tonight; and what he saw within was a weariness to his flesh. Yet to a dispassionate observer, his pretensions to Elfride, though rather premature, were far from absurd as marriages go, unless the accidental proximity of simple but honest parents could be said to make them so. + 

The clock struck eleven when he entered the house. Elfride had been waiting with scarcely a movement since he departed. Before he had spoken to her she caught sight of him passing into the study with her father. She saw that he had by some means obtained the private interview he desired. + 

A nervous headache had been growing on the excitable girl during the absence of Stephen, and now she could do nothing beyond going up again to her room as she had done before. Instead of lying down she sat again in the darkness without closing the door, and listened with a beating heart to every sound from downstairs. The servants had gone to bed. She ultimately heard the two men come from the study and cross to the dining-room, where supper had been lingering for more than an hour. The door was left open, and she found that the meal, such as it was, passed off between her father and her lover without any remark, save commonplaces as to cucumbers and melons, their wholesomeness and culture, uttered in a stiff and formal way. It seemed to prefigure failure. + 

Shortly afterwards Stephen came upstairs to his bedroom, and was almost immediately followed by her father, who also retired for the night. Not inclined to get a light, she partly undressed and sat on the bed, where she remained in pained thought for some time, possibly an hour. Then rising to close her door previously to fully unrobing, she saw a streak of light shining across the landing. Her fatherвАЩs door was shut, and he could be heard snoring regularly. The light came from StephenвАЩs room, and the slight sounds also coming thence emphatically denoted what he was doing. In the perfect silence she could hear the closing of a lid and the clicking of a lockвБ†вАФhe was fastening his hatbox. Then the buckling of straps and the click of another keyвБ†вАФhe was securing his portmanteau. With trebled foreboding she opened her door softly, and went towards his. One sensation pervaded her to distraction. Stephen, her handsome youth and darling, was going away, and she might never see him again except in secret and in sadnessвБ†вАФperhaps never more. At any rate, she could no longer wait till the morning to hear the result of the interview, as she had intended. She flung her dressing-gown round her, tapped lightly at his door, and whispered вАЬStephen!вАЭ He came instantly, opened the door, and stepped out. + 

вАЬTell me; are we to hope?вАЭ + 

He replied in a disturbed whisper, and a tear approached its outlet, though none fell. + 

вАЬI am not to think of such a preposterous thingвБ†вАФthatвАЩs what he said. And I am going tomorrow. I should have called you up to bid you goodbye.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut he didnвАЩt say you were to goвБ†вАФO Stephen, he didnвАЩt say that?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo; not in words. But I cannot stay.вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, donвАЩt, donвАЩt go! Do come and let us talk. Let us come down to the drawing-room for a few minutes; he will hear us here.вАЭ + 

She preceded him down the staircase with the taper light in her hand, looking unnaturally tall and thin in the long dove-coloured dressing-gown she wore. She did not stop to think of the propriety or otherwise of this midnight interview under such circumstances. She thought that the tragedy of her life was beginning, and, for the first time almost, felt that her existence might have a grave side, the shade of which enveloped and rendered invisible the delicate gradations of custom and punctilio. Elfride softly opened the drawing-room door and they both went in. When she had placed the candle on the table, he enclosed her with his arms, dried her eyes with his handkerchief, and kissed their lids. + 

вАЬStephen, it is overвБ†вАФhappy love is over; and there is no more sunshine now!вАЭ + 

вАЬI will make a fortune, and come to you, and have you. Yes, I will!вАЭ + 

вАЬPapa will never hear of itвБ†вАФneverвБ†вАФnever! You donвАЩt know him. I do. He is either biased in favour of a thing, or prejudiced against it. Argument is powerless against either feeling.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo; I wonвАЩt think of him so,вАЭ said Stephen. вАЬIf I appear before him some time hence as a man of established name, he will accept meвБ†вАФI know he will. He is not a wicked man.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, he is not wicked. But you say вАШsome time hence,вАЩ as if it were no time. To you, among bustle and excitement, it will be comparatively a short time, perhaps; oh, to me, it will be its real length trebled! Every summer will be a yearвБ†вАФautumn a yearвБ†вАФwinter a year! O Stephen! and you may forget me!вАЭ + 

Forget: that was, and is, the real sting of waiting to fond-hearted woman. The remark awoke in Stephen the converse fear. вАЬYou, too, may be persuaded to give me up, when time has made me fainter in your memory. For, remember, your love for me must be nourished in secret; there will be no long visits from me to support you. Circumstances will always tend to obliterate me.вАЭ + 

вАЬStephen,вАЭ she said, filled with her own misgivings, and unheeding his last words, вАЬthere are beautiful women where you liveвБ†вАФof course I know there areвБ†вАФand they may win you away from me.вАЭ Her tears came visibly as she drew a mental picture of his faithlessness. вАЬAnd it wonвАЩt be your fault,вАЭ she continued, looking into the candle with doleful eyes. вАЬNo! You will think that our family donвАЩt want you, and get to include me with them. And there will be a vacancy in your heart, and some others will be let in.вАЭ + 

вАЬI could not, I would not. Elfie, do not be so full of forebodings.вАЭ + 

вАЬOh yes, they will,вАЭ she replied. вАЬAnd you will look at them, not caring at first, and then you will look and be interested, and after a while you will think, вАШAh, they know all about city life, and assemblies, and coteries, and the manners of the titled, and poor little Elfie, with all the fuss thatвАЩs made about her having me, doesnвАЩt know about anything but a little house and a few cliffs and a space of sea, far away.вАЩ And then youвАЩll be more interested in them, and theyвАЩll make you have them instead of me, on purpose to be cruel to me because I am silly, and they are clever and hate me. And I hate them, too; yes, I do!вАЭ + 

Her impulsive words had power to impress him at any rate with the recognition of the uncertainty of all that is not accomplished. And, worse than that general feeling, there of course remained the sadness which arose from the special features of his own case. However remote a desired issue may be, the mere fact of having entered the groove which leads to it, cheers to some extent with a sense of accomplishment. Had Mr.¬†Swancourt consented to an engagement of no less length than ten years, Stephen would have been comparatively cheerful in waiting; they would have felt that they were somewhere on the road to CupidвАЩs garden. But, with a possibility of a shorter probation, they had not as yet any prospect of the beginning; the zero of hope had yet to be reached. Mr.¬†Swancourt would have to revoke his formidable words before the waiting for marriage could even set in. And this was despair. + 

вАЬI wish we could marry now,вАЭ murmured Stephen, as an impossible fancy. + 

вАЬSo do I,вАЭ said she also, as if regarding an idle dream. вАЬвАКвАЩTis the only thing that ever does sweethearts good!вАЭ + 

вАЬSecretly would do, would it not, Elfie?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes, secretly would do; secretly would indeed be best,вАЭ she said, and went on reflectively: вАЬAll we want is to render it absolutely impossible for any future circumstance to upset our future intention of being happy together; not to begin being happy now.вАЭ + 

вАЬExactly,вАЭ he murmured in a voice and manner the counterpart of hers. вАЬTo marry and part secretly, and live on as we are living now; merely to put it out of anybodyвАЩs power to force you away from me, dearest.вАЭ + 

вАЬOr you away from me, Stephen.вАЭ + 

вАЬOr me from you. It is possible to conceive a force of circumstance strong enough to make any woman in the world marry against her will: no conceivable pressure, up to torture or starvation, can make a woman once married to her lover anybody elseвАЩs wife.вАЭ + 

Now up to this point the idea of an immediate secret marriage had been held by both as an untenable hypothesis, wherewith simply to beguile a miserable moment. During a pause which followed StephenвАЩs last remark, a fascinating perception, then an alluring conviction, flashed along the brain of both. The perception was that an immediate marriage could be contrived; the conviction that such an act, in spite of its daring, its fathomless results, its deceptiveness, would be preferred by each to the life they must lead under any other conditions. + 

The youth spoke first, and his voice trembled with the magnitude of the conception he was cherishing. вАЬHow strong we should feel, Elfride! going on our separate courses as before, without the fear of ultimate separation! O Elfride! think of it; think of it!вАЭ + 

It is certain that the young girlвАЩs love for Stephen received a fanning from her fatherвАЩs opposition which made it blaze with a dozen times the intensity it would have exhibited if left alone. Never were conditions more favourable for developing a girlвАЩs first passing fancy for a handsome boyish faceвБ†вАФa fancy rooted in inexperience and nourished by seclusionвБ†вАФinto a wild unreflecting passion fervid enough for anything. All the elements of such a development were there, the chief one being hopelessnessвБ†вАФa necessary ingredient always to perfect the mixture of feelings united under the name of loving to distraction. + 

вАЬWe would tell papa soon, would we not?вАЭ she inquired timidly. вАЬNobody else need know. He would then be convinced that hearts cannot be played with; love encouraged be ready to grow, love discouraged be ready to die, at a momentвАЩs notice. Stephen, do you not think that if marriages against a parentвАЩs consent are ever justifiable, they are when young people have been favoured up to a point, as we have, and then have had that favour suddenly withdrawn?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes. It is not as if we had from the beginning acted in opposition to your papaвАЩs wishes. Only think, Elfie, how pleasant he was towards me but six hours ago! He liked me, praised me, never objected to my being alone with you.вАЭ + 

вАЬI believe he must like you now,вАЭ she cried. вАЬAnd if he found that you irremediably belonged to me, he would own it and help you. O Stephen, Stephen,вАЭ she burst out again, as the remembrance of his packing came afresh to her mind, вАЬI cannot bear your going away like this! It is too dreadful. All I have been expecting miserably killed within me like this!вАЭ + 

Stephen flushed hot with impulse. вАЬI will not be a doubt to youвБ†вАФthought of you shall not be a misery to me!вАЭ he said. вАЬWe will be wife and husband before we part for long!вАЭ + 

She hid her face on his shoulder. вАЬAnything to make sure!вАЭ she whispered. + 

вАЬI did not like to propose it immediately,вАЭ continued Stephen. вАЬIt seemed to meвБ†вАФit seems to me nowвБ†вАФlike trying to catch youвБ†вАФa girl better in the world than I.вАЭ + 

вАЬNot that, indeed! And am I better in worldly station? WhatвАЩs the use of have beens? We may have been something once; we are nothing now.вАЭ + 

Then they whispered long and earnestly together; Stephen hesitatingly proposing this and that plan, Elfride modifying them, with quick breathings, and hectic flush, and unnaturally bright eyes. It was two oвАЩclock before an arrangement was finally concluded. + 

She then told him to leave her, giving him his light to go up to his own room. They parted with an agreement not to meet again in the morning. After his door had been some time closed he heard her softly gliding into her chamber. + 