the novel aylwin

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Title:Aylwin
Author:TheodoreWatts-Dunton
ReleaseDate:September14,2004[eBook#13454]
Language:English
***STARTOFTHEPROJECTGUTENBERGEBOOKAYLWIN***
E-textpreparedbyRoyBrown,Trowbridge,England

AYLWIN
WithTwoAppendices,OneContainingaNoteontheCharacterof
D'arcy;theOtheraKeytotheStory,ReprintedfromNotesand
Queries
by
THEODOREWATTS-DUNTON

Authorof'TheComingofLove:RhonaBoswell'sStory,'etc.etc.


TOC.J.R.INREMEMBRANCEOF
SUNNYDAYSANDSTARLIT
NIGHTSWHENWERAMBLED
TOGETHERONCRUMBLING
CLIFFSTHATARENOWATTHE
BOTTOMOFTHESEATHIS
EDITIONOFASTORYWHICH
HASBEENALINKBETWEENUS

ISINSCRIBED
CAUGHTINTHEEBBINGTIDE
AREMINISCENCEOFRAXTOXCLIFFS

ThemightiestTitan'sstrokecouldnotwithstand


Anebbingtidelikethis.Theseswirlsdenote
Howwindandtideconspire.Icanbutfloat
Totheopenseaandstrikenomoreforland.
Farewell,browncliffs,farewell,belovedsand
Herfeethavepressed—farewell,dearlittleboat
WhereGelert,[Footnote]calmlysittingonmycoat,
Unconsciousofmyperil,gazesbland!
Alldangersgripmesavethedeadliest,fear:
Yettheseair-picturesofthepastthatglide—
Thesedeath-mirageso'ertheheavingtide—
Showingtwoloversinanalcoveclear,
Willbreakmyheart.IseethemandIhear
Astheretheysitatmorning,sidebyside.
[Footnote:Afamousswimmingdog.]
THEVISION
_WithBartonelmsbehind—infrontthesea,
Sittinginrosylightinthatalcove,
Theyhearthefirstlarkriseo'erRaxtonGrove:
'WhatshouldIdowithfame,dearheart?'sayshe,
'Youtalkoffame,poeticfame,tome
Whosecrownisnotoflaurelbutoflove—
Tomewhowouldnotgivethislittleglove
OnthisdearhandforShakespeare'sdowerinfee.

While,risingredandkindlingeverybillow,
Thesun'sshieldshines'neathmanyagoldenspear,
Toleanwithyou,againstthisleafypillow,
Tomurmurwordsofloveinthislovedear—
Tofeelyoubendinglikeabendingwillow,
Thisistobeapoet—this,mydear!'_
OGod,todieandleaveher—dieandleave
Theheavensolatelywon!—Andthen,toknow
Whatmiserywillbehers—whatlonelywoe!—


Toseethebrighteyesweep,toseehergrieve
WillmakemeacowardasIsink,andcleave
TolifethoughDestinyhasbidmego.
HowshallIbearthepicturesthatwillglow
Abovetheglowingbillowsastheyheave?
Onepicturefades,andnowabovethespray
Anothershines:ah,doIknowthebowers
Whereyonsweetwomanstands—thewoodlandflowers,
Inthatbrightwreathofgrassandnew-mownhay—
ThatbirthdaywreathIwovewhenearthlyhours
Woreangel-wings,—tillportentsbroughtdismay?
ShallIturncowardherewhosailedwithDeath
ThroughmanyatempestonmineownNorthSea,
Andquaillikehimofoldwhobowedtheknee—
Faithless—tobillowsofGenesereth?
DidIturncowardwhenmyverybreath
FrozeonmylipsthatAlpinenightwhenHe
Stoodglimmeringthere,theSkeleton,withme,
Whileavalanchesrolledfrompeaksbeneath?

Eachbillowbearsmenearertotheverge
Ofrealmswheresheisnot—wherelovemustwait.
IfGelert,there,couldhear,noneedtourge
Thatfriend,sofaithful,true,affectionate,
Tocomeandhelpme,ortosharemyfate.
Ah!surelyIseehimspringingthroughthesurge.
[Thedog,plungingintothetideandstriking
towardshismasterwithimmensestrength,
reacheshimandswimsroundhim.]
Oh,Gelert,strongofwindandstrongofpaw,
Heregazinglikeyournamesake,'Snowdon'sHound,'
WhengreatLlewelyn'schildcouldnotbefound,
Andallthewarriorsstoodinspeechlessawe—
Muteasyournamesakewhenhismastersaw
Thecradletossed—therushesredaround—
Withneveraword,butonlyawhimperingsound


Totellwhatmeantthebloodonlipandjaw!
Insuchastrait,toaidthisgazesofond,
ShouldI,bravefriend,haveneededotherspeech
Thanthisdearwhimper?Istherenotabond
Strongerthanwordsthatbindsuseachtoeach?—
ButDeathhascaughtusboth.'Tisfarbeyond
Thestrengthofmanordogtowinthebeach.
Throughtangle-weed—throughcoilsofslipperykelp
Deckingyourshaggyforehead,thosebraveeyes
Shinetrue—shinedeepoflove'sdivinesurmise
Asherswhogaveyou—thenaTitanwhelp!—
Ithinkyouknowmydangerandwouldhelp!—

SeehowIpointtoyondersmackthatlies
Atanchor—Go!Hiscountenancereplies.
Hope'smusicringsinGelert'seageryelp!
[Thedogswimsswiftlyawaydownthetide.]
Now,lifeandloveanddeathswimoutwithhim!
Ifheshouldreachthesmack,themenwillguess
Thedoghaslefthismasterindistress.
Shetaughthimintheseverywavestoswim—
'Theprinceofpups,'shesaid,'forwindandlimb'—
Andnowthoselessonscometosave—tobless.
ENVOY
(Thedayaftertherescue:Gelertandhismasterwalkingalongthesand.)
'Twasinnoglitteringtourney'smimicstrife,—
'TwasinthatbloodyfightinRaxtonGrove,
Whilehungryravenscroakedfromboughsabove,
Andfrightenedblackbirdsshrilledthewarningfife—
'Twasthere,indayswhenFriendshipstillwasrife.
Mineancestorwhothrewthechallenge-glove
Conqueredandfoundhisfoeasoultolove,
Foundfriendship—Life'sgreatsecondcrownoflife.


SoIthismorningloveourNorthSeamore
Becausehefoughtmewell,becausethesewaves
Nowweavingsunbowsforusbytheshore
Strovewithme,tossedmeinthoseemeraldcaves
Thatyawnedabovemyheadlikeconsciousgraves—
IlovehimasIneverlovedbefore.

PREFACETOTHISEDITION

Theheart-thoughtofthishookbeingthepeculiardoctrineinPhilipAylwin's
VeiledQueen,andtheeffectofituponthefortunesoftheheroandtheother
characters,thename'TheRenascenceofWonder'wasthefirstthatcametomy
mindwhenconfrontingthedifficultquestionoffindinganameforabookthatis
atoncealove-storyandanexpressionofacreed.ButeventuallyIdecided,andI
thinkfromtheworldlypointofviewwisely,togiveitsimplythenameofthe
hero.
Theimportantplaceinthestory,however,takenbythiscreeddidnotescapethe
mostacuteandpainstakingofthecritics.MadameGalimberti,forinstance,in
theelaboratestudyofthebookwhichshemadeintheRivistad'Italia,gavegreat
attentiontoitscentralidea:sodidM.MauriceMuret,intheJournaldesDébats;
sodidM.HenriJacottetinLaSemaineLittéraire.Mr.Baker,again,inhis
recentlypublishedworkonfiction,describedAylwinas'animaginativeromance
ofmoderndays,themoralideaofwhichisman'sattitudeinfaceofthe
unknown,'or,asthewriterputsit,'therenascenceofwonder.'Withregardtothe
phraseitself,intheintroductiontothelatesteditionofAylwin—thetwentysecondedition—Imadethefollowingbriefreplytocertainquestionsthathave
beenraisedbycriticsbothinEnglandandontheContinentconcerningit.The
phrase,Isaid,'TheRenascenceofWonder,'
Isusedtoexpressthatgreatrevivedmovementofthesoulofmanwhichis
generallysaidtohavebegunwiththepoetryofWordsworth,Scott,
Coleridge,andothers,andaftermanyvarietiesofexpressionreachedits
culminationinthepoemsandpicturesofRossetti.Thephrase'The
RenascenceofWonder'merelyindicatesthattherearetwogreatimpulses
governingman,andprobablynotmanonlybuttheentireworldofconscious
life—theimpulseofacceptance—theimpulsetotakeunchallengedandfor


grantedallthephenomenaoftheouterworldastheyare,andtheimpulseto
confrontthesephenomenawitheyesofinquiryandwonder.
ThepainterWilderspinsaystoHenryAylwin,'Theonegreateventofmylifehas

beenthereadingofTheVeiledQueen,yourfather'shookofinspiredwisdom
uponthemodernRenascenceofWonderinthemindofman.'Andfurtheronhe
saysthathisowngreatpicturesymbolicalofthisrenascencewassuggestedby
PhilipAylwin'svignette.SincetheoriginalwritingofAylwin,manyyearsago,I
haveenlargeduponitscentralideaintheEncyclopaediaBritannicaandinthe
introductoryessaytothethirdvolumeofChambers'sCyclopædiaofEnglish
Literature,andinotherplaces.Naturally,therefore,thephrasehasbeenagood
dealdiscussed.QuitelatelyDr.RobertsonNicollhasdirectedattentiontothe
phrase,andhehastakenitasatextofaremarkablediscourseuponthe
'RenascenceofWonderinReligion.'Iamtemptedtoquotesomeofhiswords:—
AmongsttheLogiarecentlydiscoveredbytheexplorersoftheEgyptFund,
thereisoneofwhichpartwasalreadyknowntohaveoccurredintheGospel
accordingtotheHebrews.Itrunsasfollows:—'Letnothimthatseekethcease
fromhissearchuntilhefind,andwhenhefindsheshallwonder:wondering
heshallreachthekingdom,andwhenhereachesthekingdomheshallhave
rest.'…WebelievethatButlerwasoneofthefirsttoshareintheRenascence
ofWonder,whichwastherenascenceofreligion….Mensawoncemorethe
marveloftheuniverseandtheromanceofman'sdestiny.Theybecameaware
ofthespiritualworld,ofthesupernatural,ofthelifelongstruggleofthesoul,
ofthepoweroftheunseen.
ThewordsquotedbyDr.Nicollmightveryappropriatelybeusedasamottofor
AylwinandalsoforitssequelTheComingofLove:RhonaBoswellsStory.


PREFACETOTHETWENTY-SECONDEDITION
OF1904
NothinginregardtoAylwinhasgivenmesomuchpleasureasthewayinwhich
ithasbeenreceivedbothbymyWelshfriendsandmyRomanyfriends.Ilittle
thought,whenIwroteit,thatwithinthreeyearsofitspublicationthegypsy
picturesinitwouldbediscoursedupontoaudiencesof4000peoplebyamanso

wellequippedtoexpressanopiniononsuchasubjectastheeloquentand
famous'GypsySmith,'anddescribedbyhimas'themosttrustworthypictureof
RomanylifeintheEnglishlanguage,containinginSinfiLovellthetruest
representativeoftheGypsygirl.'
AndasregardsmyWelshreaders,theyhavedonemethehonourofsuggesting
thatanillustratededitionoftheworkwouldbeprizedbyallloversof'Beautiful
Wales.'
Althoughsuchaneditionis,Iamtold,anexpensiveundertaking,myfriendand
publisher,Mr.Blackett,seeshisway,hetellsme,tobringingitout.
Sincethefirstappearanceofthebooktherehavebeenmanyinteresting
discussionsbyWelshreaders,invariousperiodicals,uponthepathtakenby
SinfiLovellandAylwinintheirascentofSnowdon.
AverypicturesqueletterappearedinNotesandQueriesonMay3rd,1902,
signedC.C.B.inanswertoaquerybyE.W.,whichIwillgivemyselfthe
pleasureofquotingbecauseitdescribesthewriter'sascentofSnowdon
(accompaniedbyasonofmyoldfriendHarryOwen,lateofPen-y-Gwryd)
alongapathwhichwasalmostthesameasthattakenbyAylwinandSinfi
Lovell,whenhesawthesamemagnificentspectaclethatwasseenbythem:—
Themistwasthenclearing(itwasinJuly)andinafewmomentswasentirely
gone.Somarvellousatransformationscene,andsoimmenseaprospect,I


haveneverbeheldsince.ForthefirstandonlytimeinmylifeIsawfromone
spotalmostthewholeofNorthandMid-Wales,agoodpartofWestern
England,andaglimpseofScotlandandIreland.Thevisionfadedalltoo
quickly,butitwasworthwalkingthirty-threeorthirty-fourmiles,asIdid
thatday,forevenabrieferviewthanthat.
ReferringtoLlynCoblynauthisinterestingwritersays—
OnlyfromGlaslynwouldthedescriptioninAylwinofyWyddfastandingout
againstthesky'asnarrowandassteepasthesidesofanacorn'becorrect,but

fromthenorthandnorth-westsidesofGlaslynthisanswerswithquite
curiousexactnesstotheappearanceofthemountain.Wemustsupposethe
actionofthestorytohavetakenplacebeforetherevivalofthecopper-mining
industryonSnowdon.
Withregard,however,tothequestionhereraised,Icansavemyselfalltrouble
bysimplyquotingtheadmirableremarksofSionoDdyliinthesamenumberof
NotesandQueries:—
Noneofusareverylikelytosucceedinplacingthisllyn,becausetheauthor
ofAylwin,takingaprivilegeofromanceoftentakenbySirWalterScott
beforehim,probablychangedthelandmarksinidealisingthesceneand
adaptingittohisstory.Itmaybe,indeed,thattheWelshnamegiventothe
llyninthebookismerelyaroughtranslationofthegipsies'nameforit,the
'Knockers'beinggnomesorgoblinsofthemine;hence'Coblynau'equals
goblins.Ifso,thenameitselfcangiveusnoclueunlessweareluckyenough
tosecurethelastoftheWelshgipsiesforaguide.Inanycase,theonlypoint
fromwhichtoexploreSnowdonforthesmallllyn,orperhapsllyns(ofwhich
LlynCoblynauisakindofcompositeidealpicture),isnodoubt,asE.W.has
suggested,CapelCurig;andIimaginetheactualsceneliesaboutamilesouth
fromGlaslyn,whileitowessomethingatleastofitscolouringinthebookto
thatstrangelake.The'Knockers,'itmustberemembered,usuallydepend
upontheexistenceofaminenearby,witholdpartlyfallenmine-workings
wherethedroppingofwaterorothersubterraneannoisesproducethecurious
phenomenonwhichisturnedtosuchimaginativeaccountintheSnowdon
chaptersofAylwin.
Thereisanotherquestion—aquestionofaverydifferentkind—raisedbyseveral
correspondentsofNotesandQueries,uponwhichIshouldliketosayaword—a


questionastoTheVeiledQueenandtheusethereinofthephrase'The
RenascenceofWonder'—aphrasewhichhasbeensaidto'expresstheartistic

motifofthebook.'Themotifofthebook,however,isoneofemotionprimarily,
oritwouldnothavebeenwritten.
ThereisyetanothersubjectuponwhichIfeeltemptedtosayafewwords.
D'ArcyinreferringtoAylwin'sconductinregardtothecrosssays:—
YouweresimplydoingwhatHamletwouldhavedoneinsuchcircumstances
—whatMacbethwouldhavedone,andwhathewouldhavedonewhospoke
tothehumanheartthroughtheirvoices.Allmen,Ibelieve,haveMacbeth's
instinctformaking'assurancedoublysure,'andIcannotimaginetheman
who,entangledasyouwereinanetofconflictingevidence—theevidenceof
thespiritualandtheevidenceofthenaturalworld—wouldnot,ifthequestion
werethatofavertingacursefromactingonabelovedmistress,havedoneas
youdid.ThatparalysisofHamlet'swillwhichfollowedwhentheevidenceof
twoworldshunginequipoisebeforehim,noonecanpossiblyunderstand
betterthanI.
Severalcriticshaveaskedmetoexplainthesewords.Ofcourse,however,the
questionismuchtoobigandmuchtooimportanttodiscusshere.Iwillmerely
saythatShakespearehavingdecidedinthecaseof'Macbeth'toadoptthe
machineryhefoundinHolinslied,andinthecaseof'Hamlet'themachineryhe
foundintheold'Hamlet,'seemstohavesethimselfthetaskofrealisingthe
situationofamanoscillatingbetweentheevidenceoftwoworlds,thephysical
andthespiritual—amanineachcaseunusuallysagacious,andineachcase
endowedwiththeinstinctfor'makingassurancedoublysure'—theinstinct
whichseems,frommanypassagesinhisdramas,tohavebeenaspecial
characteristicofthepoet'sown,suchforinstanceasthewordsinPericles:
Fortruthcanneverbeconfirm'denough,
Thoughdoubtsdideversleep.
Whyisitthat,inthisstory,Hamlet,themoodymoraliseruponcharnel-houses
andmouldybones,isidentifiedwiththejollycompanionoftheMermaid,the
wine-bibbingjokeroftheFalcon,andtheApollosaloon?ItisbecauseHamletis
themostelaborately-paintedcharacterinliterature.Itisbecausethespringsof

hisactionsaresoprofoundlytouched,theworkingsofhissoulsothoroughly


laidbare,thatweseemtoknowhimmorecompletelythanweknowourmost
intimatefriends.Itisbecausetheseawhichwashesbetweenpersonalityand
personalityishere,foronce,rolledaway,andweandthisHamlettouch,soulto
soul.Thatiswhyweaskwhethersuchacharactercanbethemereevolvement
oftheartisticmindatwork.Thatiswhyweexclaim:'Themanwhopainted
Hamletmusthavebeenpaintinghimself.'Theperfectionofthedramatist'swork
betrayshim.For,reallyandtruly,nomancanpaintanother,butonlyhimself,
andwhatwecall'characterpainting'is,atthebest,butapoormixingofpainter
andpainted,a'thirdsomething'betweenthesetwo;justaswhatwecallcolour
andsoundarebornoftheplayofundulationuponorganism.


INTRODUCTIONTOTHESNOWDONEDITION
OF1901
Thoughwrittenmanyyearsagothisstorywas,forcertainpersonalreasonseasy
toguess,withheldfrompublication—withheld,asTheTimespointedout,
because'withtheDichtungwasmingledagooddealofWahrheit,'ButwhydidI
stilldelayinpublishingitafterthesereasonsforwithholdingithadpassed
away?Thisisaquestionthathasoftenbeenputtomebothinprintandin
conversation.AndyetIshouldhaveimaginedthattheexplanationwasnotfarto
seek.Itwassimplydiffidence;inotherwordsitwasthatinfirmitywhich,though
generallysupposedtobelongtoyouth,comestoawriter,ifitcomesatall,with
years.UndoubtedlytherewasatimeinmylifewhenIshouldhaveleaptwith
considerablerashnessintothebrilliantranksofourcontemporarynovelists.But
thiswasbeforeIhadreachedwhatIwillcallthediffidentperiodinthelifeofa
writer.Andthen,again,IhadoftenbeentoldbyGeorgeBorrow,andalsobymy
friendFrancisGroome,thegreatlivingauthorityonRomanymatters,thatthere

wasinEnglandnointerestinGypsies.Altogetherthen,haditnotbeenforthe
unexpectedsuccessofTheComingofLove,astoryofGypsylife,itisdoubtful
whetherIshouldnothavedelayedthepublicationofAylwinuntilthegreat
warderofthegatesofdaywecallDeathshouldclosehisportalbehindmeand
shutmeofffromthesedreams.However,IamverygladnowthatIdidpublish
it;forithasbroughtaroundmeanumberofnewfriends—broughtthemata
timewhennewfriendswerewhatIyearnedfor—atimewhen,lookingback
throughthisvisionofmylife,IseemtobelookingdownanAppianway—a
streetoftombs—thetombsofthoseIloved.Nowonder,then,thatIwasdeeply
touchedbythekindnesswithwhichthePublicandthePressreceivedthestory.
Onecriticdidmethehonourofremarkinguponwhathecalledthe'absolute
newnessoftheplotandincidentsofAylwin.'Heseemstohaveforgotten,
however,thatoneincident—themostdaringincidentinthebook—thatofthe
riflingofagravefortreasure—isnotnew:itwillatonceremindfolk-loristsof
certainpracticeschargedagainstouroldNorseinvaders.AndstudentsofCeltic


andGaelicliteraturearefamiliarwiththesameidea.Quite,lately,indeed,Mr.
AlfredNutt,inhisanalysisoftheGaelicAgallamhnaSenorach,or'Colloquyof
theElders,'hasmadesomeinterestingremarksuponthesubject.
AsfarasIremember,theonlyobjectionmadebythecriticstoAylwinwasthatI
hadimportedintoastorywrittenforpopularacceptancetoomanyspeculations
andbreedingsuponthegravestofallsubjects—thesubjectofloveatstruggle
withdeath.Myanswertothisisthatalthoughitdidwinagreatpopular
acceptanceIneverexpectedittodoso.Iknewthebooktobeanexpressionof
idiosyncrasy,andnomanknowshowmuchorhowlittlehisidiosyncrasyisin
harmonywiththetemperofhistime,untilhisbookhasbeengiventotheworld.
ItwasthestoryofAylwinthatwasbornofthespeculationsuponLoveand
Death;itwasnotthespeculationsthatwerepressedintothestory;withoutthese
speculationstherecouldhavebeennostorytotell.Indeedthechieffaultwhich

myselfshouldfindwithAylwin,ifmybusinessweretocriticiseit,wouldbethat
itgivesnottoolittlebuttoomuchprominencetothestrongincidentsofthestory
—astorywrittenasacommentonlove'swarfarewithdeath—writtentoshow
thatconfrontedasamaniseverymomentbysignsofthefragilityandbrevityof
humanlife,thegreatmarvelconnectedwithhimisnotthathisthoughtsdwell
frequentlyupontheunknowncountrybeyondOrionwherethebeloveddeadare
lovingusstill,butthathecanfindtimeandpatiencetothinkuponanythingelse
—astorywrittenfurthertoshowhowterriblydespairbecomesintensifiedwhen
amanhaslost—orthinkshehaslost—awomanwhoselovewastheonlylight
ofhisworld—whenhissoulistornfromhisbody,asitwere,andwhiskedoffon
thewingsofthe'viewlesswinds'rightawaybeyondthefartheststar,tillthe
universehangsbeneathhisfeetatremblingpointoftwinklinglight,andatlast
eventhisdiesawayandhissoulcriesoutforhelpinthatutterdarknessand
loneliness.
ItwastodepictthisphaseofhumanemotionthatbothAylwinanditssequel,The
ComingofLove,werewritten.Theyweremissivesfromthelonelywatch-tower
ofthewriter'ssoul,sentoutintothestrangeandbusybattleoftheworld—sent
outtofind,ifpossible,anothersoulortwotowhomthewatcherwas,without
knowingit,akin.
AndnowastomytwoGypsyheroines,theSinfiLovellofAylwinandtheRhona
BoswellofTheComingofLove.AlthoughBorrowbelongedtoadifferent


generationfrommine,Ienjoyedhisintimatefriendshipinhislateryears—
duringthetimewhenhelivedinHerefordSquare;andsincehisdeathIhave
writtenagooddealabouthim—bothinproseandinverse—intheAthenæum,in
theEncyclopædiaBritannica,andinotherplaces.When,somesevenoreight
yearsago,IbroughtoutaneditionofLavengro(inMessrs.Ward,Lock&Co.'s
MinervaLibrary),Iprefacedthatdelightfulbookbyafewdesultoryremarks
uponSorrow'sGypsycharacters.OnthatoccasionIgaveaslightsketchofthe

mostremarkable'RomanyChi'thathadeverbeenmetwithinthepartofEast
AngliaknowntoBorrowandmyself—SinfiLovell.Idescribedherplayingon
thecrwth.Idiscussedherexploitsasaboxer,andIcontrastedherinmanyways
withthegloriousAnglo-Saxonroad-girlIsopelBerners.Sincethepublicationof
AylwinandTheComingofLoveIhavereceivedverymanylettersfromEnglish
andAmericanreadersinquiringwhether'theGypsygirldescribedinthe
introductiontoLavenyroisthesameastheSinfiLovellofAylwin,'andalso
whether'theRhonaBoswellthatfiguresintheprosestoryisthesameasthe
RhonaofTheComingofLove?'TheevidenceoftherealityofRhonaso
impresseditselfuponthereaderthatontheappearanceofRhona'sfirstletterin
theAthenæum,wherethepoemwasprintedinfragments,Igotamongother
lettersonefromthesweetpoetandadorablewomanJeanIngelow,whowasthen
veryill,—nearherdeathindeed,—urgingmetotellherwhetherRhona'sloveletterwasnotaversificationofarealletterfromarealGypsytoherlover.Asit
wasobviouslyimpossibleformetoanswerthequeriesindividually,Itakethis
opportunityofsayingthattheSinfiofAylwinandtheSinfidescribedinmy
introductiontoLavengroareoneandthesamecharacter—exceptthatthestory
ofthechildSinfi'sweepingforthe'poordeadGorgios'inthechurchyard,given
intheIntroduction,isreallytoldbytheGypsies,notofSinfi,butofRhona
Boswell.Sinfiisthecharacteralludedtointhenowfamoussonnetdescribing
'thewalkinglordofGypsylore,'Borrow,byhismostintimatefriendDr.Gordon
Hake.
'Andhe,thewalkinglordofGypsylore!
Howoften'midthedeerthatgrazedthePark,
Orinthefieldsandheathandwindymoor,
Mademusicalwithmanyasoaringlark,
Havewenotheldbriskcommunewithhimthere,
WhileLavengro,thentoweringbyyourside,
Withrosecomplexionandbrightsilveryhair,
Wouldstopamidhisswiftandloungingstride
Totellthelegendsofthefadingrace—.

Asatthesummonsofhispiercingglance,
Itsstorypeoplinghisbrowneyesandface,
Whileyoucalledupthatpendantofromance
ToPetulengrowithhisboxingglory
YourAmazonianSinfi'snoblestory?'
Nowthatsomanyofthegriengroes(horse-dealers),whoformthearistocracyof
theRomanyrace,haveleftEnglandforAmerica,itisnaturalenoughthatto
somereadersofAylwinandTheComingofLovemypicturesofRomanylife
seemalittleidealised.TheTimes,inakindlynoticeofTheComingofLove,said
thatthekindofGypsiestheredepictedareaveryinterestingpeople,'unlessthe
authorhasflatteredthemunduly.'ThosewhobestknewtheGypsywomenof
thatperiodwillbethefirsttoaverthatIhavenotflatteredthemunduly.ButI
havefullydiscussedthismatter,andgivenasomewhatelaborateaccountof
SinfiLovellandRhonaBoswell,intheintroductiontothefiftheditionofThe
ComingofLove:RhonaBoswell'sStory.

CONTENTS
CHAP.
1.THECYMRICCHILD2.THEMOONLIGHTCROSSOFTHEGNOSTICS3.WINIFRED'S
DUKKERIPEN4.THELEADEROFTHEAYLWINIANS5.HAROUN-AL-RASCHIDTHE
PAINTER6.THESONGOFYWYDDFA7.SINFI'SDUKKERIPEN8.ISISASHUMOURIST9.
THEPALACEOFNIN-KI-GAL10.BEHINDTHEVEIL11.THEIRONYOFHEAVEN12.THE
REVOLVINGCAGEOFCIRCUMSTANCE13.THEMAGICOFSNOWDON14.SINFI'SCOUP
DETHÉÂTRE15.THEDAUGHTEROFSNOWDON'SSTORY16.D'ARCY'SLETTER17.THE
TWODUKKERIPENS18.THEWALKTOLLANBERISAPPENDICES

AYLWIN
THERENASCENCEOFWONDER

I


THECYMRICCHILD

I
'Thosewhoinchildhoodhavehadsolitarycommuningswiththeseaknowthe
sea'sprophecy.Theyknowthatthereisadeepersympathybetweentheseaand
thesoulofmanthanotherpeopledreamof.Theyknowthatthewaterseems
nearerakinthanthelandtothespiritualworld,inasmuchasitisoneand
indivisible,andhasmotion,andanswerstothemysteriouscallofthewinds,and
isthewritingtabletofthemoonandstars.Whenachildwho,bornbesidethe
sea,andbelovedbythesea,feelssuddenly,ashegazesuponit,adimsenseof
pityandwarning;whentherecomes,orseemstocome,ashadowacrossthe
waves,withneveracloudintheskytocastit;whentherecomesashudderingas
ofwingsthatmoveindreadorire,thensuchachildfeelsasifthebloodhounds
ofcalamityareletlooseuponhimoruponthoseheloves;hefeelsthatthesea
hastoldhimallitdarestellorcan.And,inothermoodsoffate,whenbeneatha
cloudyskythemyriaddimplesoftheseabegintosparkleasthoughthesunwere
shiningbrightuponthem,suchachildfeels,ashegazesatit,thattheseais
tellinghimofsomegreatjoynearathand,or,atleast,notfaroff.'
Onelovelysummerafternoonalittleboywassittingontheedgeofthecliffthat
skirtstheoldchurchyardofRaxton-on-Sea.Hewassittingonthegrasscloseto
thebrinkoftheindentationcutbythewaterintothehorse-shoecurvecalledby
thefishermenMousetrapCove;sittingthereasstillasanimageofaboyin
stone,attheforbiddenspotwherethewoodenfenceproclaimedthecrumbling
hollowcrusttobespeciallydangerous—sittingandlookingacrossthesheer
deepgulfbelow.
FlintyPointonhisrightwassometimesinpurpleshadowandsometimesshining

inthesun;NeedlePointonhisleftwassometimesinpurpleshadowand
sometimesshininginthesun;andbeyondtheseheadlandsspreadnowthewide
purple,andnowthewidesparkleoftheopensea.Theverygulls,wheelingas
closetohimastheydared,seemedtobefrightenedatthelittleboy'speril.
Straightaheadhewasgazing,however—gazingsointentlythathiseyesmust
havebeenseeingverymuchorelseverylittleofthatlimitlessworldoflightand
colouredshade.Onaccountofcertainquestionsconnectedwithracethatwillbe
raisedinthisnarrative,Imustdwellalittlewhileuponthechild'spersonal
appearance,andespeciallyuponhiscolour.Naturaloracquired,itwasonethat


mightbealmostcalledunique;asmuchlikeayoungGypsy'scolouraswas
compatiblewithrespectabledescent,andyetnotaGypsy'scolour.Adeep
undertoneof'Romanybrown'seemedbreakingthroughthatpeculiarkindof
ruddygoldenglowwhichnosunshinecangivetillithasitselfbeendeepened
andcolouredandenrichedbytheresponsivekissesofthesea.
Moreover,therewasacertainsomethinginhiseyesthatwasnotGypsy-like—a
somethingwhichisnotuncommonlyseenintheeyesofboysbornalongthat
coast,whetherthoseeyesbeblackorblueorgrey;asomethingwhichcannotbe
described,butwhichseemslikeareflexofthedaringgazeofthatgreatlandconqueringanddaringsea.Verystrikingwasthisexpressionashemomentarily
turnedhisfacelandwardtowatchoneofthegullsthathadcomewheelingupthe
cliffstowardstheflintygreytowerofthechurch—theolddesertedchurch,
whosegraveyardtheseahadalreadyhalfwashedaway.Ashiseyesfollowedthe
bird'smovements,however,thisdaringsea-lookseemedtobegrowinggradually
weakerandweaker.Atlastitfadedawayaltogether,andbythetimehisfacewas
turnedagaintowardsthesea,thelookIhavetriedtodescribewassupplantedby
suchagazeasthatgullwouldgivewereithidingbehindaboulderwithabroken
wing.Amistofcrueltroublewascoveringhiseyes,andsoonthemisthad
grownintotwobrightglitteringpearlytears,which,globingandtrembling,
largerandlarger,wereatlengthbigenoughtodrownbotheyes;bigenoughto

drop,shining,onthegrass:bigenoughtoblotoutaltogetherthemostbrilliant
picturethatseaandskycouldmake.Forthatlittleboyhadbeguntolearna
lessonwhichlifewasgoingtoteachhimfully—thelessonthatshiningsailsin
thesunnywind,andblacktrailingbandsofsmokepassinghereandtherealong
thehorizon,andsilverygullsdippingplayfullyintothegreenandsilverwaves
(nay,allthebeautiesandallthewondersoftheworld),makebutablurred
picturetoeyesthatlookthroughthelensoftears.However,withabrownhand
briskandangry,hebrushedawaythesetears,likeonewhoshouldsay,'Thiskind
ofthingwillneverdo.'
Indeed,sohardywastheboy'sface—tannedbythesun,hardenedandbronzed
bythewind,reddenedbythebrine—thattearsseemedentirelyoutofplace
there.Themeaningofthosetearsmustbefullyaccountedfor,andifpossible
fullyjustified,forthislittleboyistobetheheroofthisstory.Inotherwords,he
isHenryAylwin;thatistosay,myself:andthosewhoknowmenowinthefull
vigourofmanhood,alustyknightofthealpenstockofsomerepute,willbe
surprisedtoknowwhattroubledme.Theywillbesurprisedtoknowthatowing
toafallfromthecliffIwasforabouttwoyearsacripple.


Thisishowitcameabout.Roughandyieldingaswerethepaths,called
'gangways,'connectingthecliffswiththeendlessreachesofsandbelow,they
werenotroughenough,oryieldingenough,orinanywaydangerousenoughfor
me.
SoIusedtofashion'gangways'ofmyown;Iusedtodescendthecliffat
whatsoeverpointitpleasedme,clingingtothelumpsofsandyearthwiththe
prehensilepowerofaspider-monkey.ManyawarninghadIhadfromthegood
fishermenandsea-folk,thatsomedayIshouldfallfromtoptobottom—falland
breakmyneck.Alaughwasmysoleanswertothesewarnings;for,withthe
possessionofperfecthealth,Ihadinheritedthatinstinctivebeliefingoodluck
whichperfecthealthwilloftenengender.

However,mypunishmentcameatlast.Thecoast,whichisyieldinggraduallyto
thesea,isfamousforsuddenandgiganticlandslips.Theselandslipsare
sometimesfollowed,atthereturnofthetide,byafurtherfall,calleda
'settlement.'Theword'settlement'explainsitself,perhaps.Nomatterhow
smooththesea,thereturnofthetideseemsonthatcoasttohaveastrange
magneticpowerupontheland,andthedebrisofalandslipwillsometimes,
thoughnotalways,respondtoitbyagainfallingandsettlingintonewand
permanentshapes.
Now,onthemorningafteragreatlandslip,whenthecoastguard,returningonhis
beat,foundacovewhere,half-an-hourbefore,hehadlefthisowncabbages
growing,I,inspiteofallwarnings,hadclimbedtheheapofdébrisfromthe
sands,andwhileIwashallooingtriumphantlytotwocompanionsbelow—the
twomostimpudent-lookingurchins,bare-footedandunkempt,thatevera
gentleman'ssonforgatheredwith—agreatmassoflooseearthsettled,carrying
mewithitinitsfall.Iwastakenupfordead.
Itwas,however,onlyamatterofbrokenribsandadamagedleg.Andthereisno
doubtthatifthelocalsurgeonhadnotbeenallowedtohavehisownway,I
shouldsoonhavebeencured.AsitwasIbecameacripple.Thegreatcentralfact
—theverypivotuponwhichallthewheelsofmylifehavesincebeenturning—
isthatfortwoyearsduringtheimpressionableperiodofchildhoodIwalkedwith
crutches.
Itmustnotbesupposedthatmytears—thetearswhichatthismomentwere
blottingoutthelightandgloryoftheNorthSeainthesun—camefromthepain


Iwassuffering.Theycamefromcertainterriblenews,whichevenmybrother
Frankhadbeencarefultokeepfromme,butwhichhadfallenfromthelipsof
myfather—thenewsthatIwasnotunlikelytobeacrippleforlife.Fromthat
momentIhadbecomeachangedbeing,solitaryandsometimesmorose.Iwould
comeandsitstaringattheocean,meditatingontilingsingeneral,butchieflyon

thingsconnectedwithcripples,askingmyself,asnow,whetherlifewouldbe
bearableoncrutches.
Atmyheartweremiseryandangerandsuchrevoltasis,Ihope,rarelyfoundin
theheartofachild.Ihadsatdownoutsidetherailsatthismostdangerouspoint
alongthecliff,wonderingwhetherornotitwouldcrumblebeneathme.Forthis
lamenesscomingtome,whohadbeensoactive,whohadbeen,indeed,thelittle
athleteandpugilistofthesands,seemedtohaveisolatedmefrommyfellowcreaturestoadegreethatisinconceivabletomenow.Astubbornwilland
masterfulpridemademerefusetoacceptadisastersuchasmanyanoblersoul
thanminehas,Iamconscious,bornewithpatience.Mynaturebecamesoured
byaskinginvainforsympathyathome;mylonelinessdroveme—silent,
haughty,andaggressive—tohauntthechurchyard,andsitattheedgeofthecliff,
gazingwistfullyattheseaandthesandswhichcouldnotbereachedoncrutches.
Likeawoundedsea-gull,Iretiredandtookmytroublealone.
HowcouldIhelptakingitalonewhennonewouldsympathisewithme?My
brotherFrankcalledme'TheBlackSavage,'andIhalfbegantosuspectmyself
ofsecretimpulsesofasavagekind.OnceIheardmymothermurmur,asshe
strokedFrank'srosycheeksandgoldencurls,'MypoorHenryisastrange,proud
boy!'Then,lookingfrommycrutchestoFrank'sbeautifullimbs,shesaid,'How
providentialthatitwasnottheelder!Providenceiskind.'Shemeantkindtothe
HouseofAylwin.IoftenwonderwhethersheguessedthatIheardher.Ioften
wonderwhethersheknewhowIhadlovedher.
Thisishowmattersstoodwithmeonthatsummerafternoon,whenIsatonthe
edgeofthecliffinakindofdull,miserabledream.Suddenly,atthemoment
whenthehugemassofcloudshadcoveredtheentiresurfaceofthewater
betweenFlintyPointandNeedlePointwiththeirrichpurpleshadow,itseemed
tomethatthewavesbegantosparkleandlaughinajoyfulradiancewhichthey
weremakingforthemselves.Andatthatsamemomentanunwontedsound
struckmyearfromthechurchyardbehindme—astrangesoundindeedinthat
desertedplace—thatofachildishvoicesinging.

Was,then,themightyoceanwritingsymbolsforanunhappychildtoread?My
father,fromwhosebook,TheVeiledQueen,theextractwithwhichthischapter
opensistaken,would,unhesitatingly,haveanswered'Yes.'
'Destiny,nodoubt,intheGreekdramaconcernsitselfonlywiththegreat,'says
he,inthatwonderfulbookofhis.'Butwhoarethegreat?Withtheunseen
powers,mysteriousandimperious,whogovernwhiletheyseemnottogovern
allthatisseen,whoarethegreat?Inaworldwhereman'sloftiestambitionsare
tohigherintelligenceschildishdreams,wherehishighestknowledgeis
ignorance,wherehisstrongeststrengthistoheavenaderision—whoarethe
great?Aretheynotthefewmenandwomenandchildrenontheearthwho
greatlylove?'
II
SosweetasoundasthatchildishvoiceIhadneverheardbefore.
Iheldmybreathandlistened.
Intomyverybeingthatchild-voicepassed,anditwasanewmusicandanew
joy.Icangivethereadernonotionofit,becausethereisnotinnatureanything
withwhichIcancompareit.Theblackcaphasaclimactericnote,justbeforehis
songcollapsesanddies,sofullofpathosandtendernessthatoften,whenIhad
beensittingonagateinWildernessRoad,ithadaffectedmemoredeeplythan
anyhumanwords.Butherewasanotesweetandsoftasthat,andyetcharged
witharichnessnoblackcap'ssonghadeverborne,becausenoblackcaphasever
feltthejoysandsorrowsofayounghumansoul.
Thevoicewassinginginalanguagewhichseemedstrangetomethen,buthas
beenfamiliarenoughsince:
Boreo'rcymwlaur,
Eryrioedddygaer.
Brenowylltagwar,
Gwawrysbrydau.[Footnote]
[Footnote:Morningofthegoldencloud,

Eryrlwasthycastle,
Kingofthewildandtame,


Gloryofthespiritsofair!]
[Eryri—thePlaceofEagles,i.e.Snowdon.]
Intensecuriositynowmademesuddenlyforgetmytroubles.Iscrambledback
throughthetreesnottarfromthatspotandlookedaround.There,sittingupona
grassygrave,beneathoneofthewindowsofthechurch,wasalittlegirl,
somewhatyoungerthanmyselfapparently.Withherheadbentbackshewas
gazingupattheskyandsinging,whileoneofherlittlehandswaspointingtoa
tinycloudthathoveredlikeagoldenfeatheroverherhead.Thesun,whichhad
suddenlybecomeverybright,shiningonherglossyhair(forshewasbareheaded)gaveitametalliclustre,anditwasdifficulttosaywhatwasthecolour,
darkbronzeorblack.Socompletelyabsorbedwassheinwatchingthecloudto
whichherstrangesongorincantationseemedaddressed,thatshedidnotobserve
mewhenIroseandwenttowardsher.Overherhead,highupintheblue,alark
thatwassoaringtowardsthesamegauzycloudwassinging,asifinrivalry.AsI
slowlyapproachedthechild,Icouldseebyherforehead(whichinthesunshine
gleamedlikeaglobeofpearl),andespeciallybyhercomplexion,thatshewas
uncommonlylovely,andIwasafraidlestsheshouldlookdownbeforeIgot
closetoher,andsoseemycrutchesbeforehereyesencounteredmyface.She
didnot,however,seemtohearmecomingalongthegrass(sointentwasshe
withhersinging)untilIwasclosetoher,andthrowingmyshadowoverher.
Thenshesuddenlyloweredherheadandlookedatmeinsurprise.Istood
transfixedatherastonishingbeauty.Nootherpicturehasevertakensuch
possessionofme.Initseverydetailitlivesbeforemenow.Hereyes(whichat
onemomentseemedbluegrey,atanotherviolet)wereshadedbylongblack
lashes,curvingbackwardinamostpeculiarway,andthesematchedinhueher
eyebrows,andthetressesthatweretossedabouthertenderthroatandwere
quiveringinthesunlight.

AllthispictureIdidnottakeinatonce;foratfirstIcouldseenothingbutthose
quivering,glittering,changefuleyesturnedupintomyface.Graduallytheother
features(especiallythesensitivefull-lippedmouth)grewuponmeasIstood
silentlygazing.Hereseemedtomeamoreperfectbeautythanhadevercometo
meinmyloveliestdreamsofbeautybeneaththesea.Yetitwasnotherbeauty
perhaps,somuchasthelookshegaveme,thatfascinatedme,meltedme.
Asshegazedinmyfacetherecameoverhersalookofpleasedsurprise,and
then,ashereyespassedrapidlydownmylimbsandupagain,herfacewasnot


overshadowedwiththelookofdisappointmentwhichIhadwaitedfor—yes,
waitedfor,likeapinionedcriminalfortheexecutioner'supliftedknife;butthe
smileofpleasurewasstillplayingaboutthelittlemouth,whilethetenderyoung
eyesweremoisteningrapidlywiththedewsofakindofpitythatwasnewtome,
apitythatdidnotblistertheprideofthelonelywoundedsea-gull,butsoothed,
healed,andblessed.
RememberthatIwasayoungerson—thatIwasswarthy—thatIwasacripple—
andthatmymother—hadFrank.Itwasasthoughmyheartmustleapfrommy
breasttowardsthatchild.Notawordhadshespoken,butshehadsaidwhatthe
littlemaimed'fightingHal'yearnedtohear,andwithoutknowingthathe
yearned.
Irestrainedmyself,anddidnotyieldtothefeelingthatimpelledmetothrowmy
armsroundherneckinanecstasyofwonderanddelight.Afterasecondortwo
sheagainthrewbackherheadtogazeatthegoldencloud.
'Look!'saidshe,suddenlyclappingherhands,'it'soverbothofusnow.'
'Whatisit?'Isaid.
'TheDukkeripen,'shesaid,'theGoldenHand.SinfiandRhonabothsaythe
GoldenHandbringsluck:whatisluck?'
Ilookedupatthelittlecloudwhichtomeseemedmorelikeagoldenfeather
thanagoldenhand.ButIsoonbentmyeyesdownagaintolookather.

WhileIstoodlookingather,thetallfigureofamancameoutofthechurch.
ThiswasTomWynne.BesidesbeingtheorganistofRaxton'NewChurch,'Tom
wasalso(forafewextrashillingsaweek)custodianofthe'OldChurch,'this
desertedpilewithinwhoseprecinctswenowwere.Tom'sfeaturesworean
expressionofvirtuousindignationwhichpuzzledme,andevidentlyfrightened
thelittlegirl.Helockedthedoor,andwalkedunsteadilytowardsus.Heseemed
surprisedtoseemethere,andhisfeaturesrelaxedintoablandcivility.
'Thisis(hiccup)MasterAylwin,Winifred,'hesaid.
Thechildlookedatmeagainwiththesamesmile.Heralarmhadfled.
'ThisismylittledaughterWinifred,'saidTom,withapompousbow.


Iwasastonished.IneverknewthatWynnehadadaughter,forintimateasheand
Ihadbecome,hehadactuallynevermentionedhisdaughterbefore.
'Myonlydaughter,'Tomrepeated.
Hethentoldme,withmanyhiccups,that,sincehermother'sdeath(thatistosay
fromherveryinfancy),WinifredhadbeenbroughtupbyanauntinWales.
'Quitealady,herauntis,'saidTomproudly,'andWinifredhascometospenda
fewweekswithherfather.'
Hesaidthisinagrandlypaternaltone—atonethatseemedmeanttoimpress
uponherhowverymuchobligedsheoughttofeeltohimforconsentingtobe
herfather;and,judgingfromthelookthechildgavehim,shedidfeelverymuch
obliged.
Suddenly,however,athoughtseemedtocomebackuponTom,athoughtwhich
myunexpectedappearanceonthescenehaddrivenfromhisdrunkenbrain.The
lookofvirtuousindignationreturned,andstaringatthelittlegirlthroughglazed
eyes,hesaidwiththetremulousandtearfulvoiceofadeeplyinjuredparent,
'Winifred,IthoughtIheardyousingingoneofthemheathenGypsysongsthat
youlearntoftheGypsiesinWales.'
'No,father,'saidshe,'itwasthesongtheysinginShire-Carnarvonaboutthe

goldencloudoverSnowdonandthespiritsoftheair.'
'Yes,'saidTom,'butalittletimeagoyouweresingingaGypsysong—a
downrightheathenGypsysong.IhearditabouthalfanhouragowhenIwasin
thechurch.'
Thebeautifullittleheaddroopedinshame.
'I'ms'prisedatyou,Winifred.WhenIcometothinkwhosedaughteryouare.—
mine!—I'ms'prisedatyou,'continuedTorn,whosevirtuousindignationwaxed
witheveryword.
'Oh.I'msosorry!'saidthechild.'Iwon'tdoitanymore.'
Thiscontritionofthechild'sonlyfannedtheflameofTom'svirtuous
indignation.


'HereamI,'saidhe,'themost(hiccup)respectablemanintwoparishes,—except
MasterAylwin'sfather,ofcourse,—hereamI,theorgan-playerforthe
ChristianestofalltheChristianchurchesalongthecoast,andhere'smydaughter
singsheathensongsjustlikeaGypsyoratinker.I'ms'prisedatyou,Winifred.'
IhadoftenseenTominadignifiedstateofliquor,butthepatheticexpressionof
injuredvirtuethatagainoverspreadhisfacesochangedit,thatIhadsome
difficultymyselfinrealisinghowentirelythetearsfillinghiseyesandthegrief
athisheartwereofalcoholicorigin.Andastothelittlegirl,shebegantosob
piteously.
'Ohdear,ohdear,whatawickedgirlIam!'saidshe.
Thisexclamation,however,arousedmyireagainstTom;andasIalwayslooked
uponhimasmyspecialpaidhenchman,who,inreturnforsuchservicesas
supplyingmewithtinyboxing-gloves,andfishing-tackle,andbait,duringmy
haledays,andtamerabbitsnowthatIwasacripple,mostlycontrivedtopossess
himselfofmypocket-money,Ihadnohesitationinexclaiming,
'Why,Tom,youknowyou'redrunk,yousillyoldfool!'
AtthisTomturnedhismournfulandreproachfulgazeuponme,andbeganto

weepanew.Thenheturnedandaddressedthesea,upliftinghishandinoratorical
fashion:—
'Here'sayounggentlemanasI'vebeenmorethanafatherto—yes,morethana
fatherto—forwhendidhisownfatherevergivehimaferret-eyedrabbit,areal
ferret-eyedrabbitthoroughbred?'
'Why,Igaveyouoneofmyfive-shillingpiecesforit,'saidI;'andtherabbitwas
inaconsumptionanddiedinthreeweeks.'
ButTomstilladdressedthesea.
'Whendidhisownfathergivehim,'saidhe,'thelongestthigh-bonethatthesea
everwashedoutofRaxtonchurchyard?'
'Why,Igaveyoutwoofmyfive-shillingpiecesforthat,'saidI,'andnextday
youwentandborrowedthebone,andsolditoveragaintoDr.Munroforaquart
ofbeer.'


'Whendidhisownfathergivehimabeautifulskullforamoney-box,andmake
anoaklidtoit,andkeepitforhimbecausehismotherwouldn'thaveitinthe
house?'
'Ah,butwhere'sthemoneythatwasinit,Tom?Where'sthemoney?'saidI,
flourishingoneofmycrutches,forIwasworkeduptoastateofhighexcitement
whenIrecalledmyownwrongsandTom'sfrauds,andIforgothisrelationship
tothelittlegirl.'Wherearethebrightnewhalf-crownsthatwereinthemoneyboxwhenIleftitwithyou—thehalf-crownsthatgotchangedintopennies,
Tom?Wherearethey?What'stheuseofhavingaskullforamoney-boxifit's
gotnomoneyinit?That'swhatIwanttoknow,Tom!'
'Here'sayounggentleman,'saidTom,'asI'vedoneallthesethingsfor,andhow
doeshetreatme?Hesays,"Why,Tom,youknowyou'redrunk,yousillyold
fool."'
Atthispatheticappealthelittlegirlsprangupandturnedtowardsmewiththe
ferocityofayoungtigress.Herlittlehandsweretightlyclenched,andhereyes
seemedpositivelytobeemittingbluesparks.ManyaboldboyhadIencountered

onthesandsbeforemyaccident,andmanyafearlessgirl,butsuchanimpetuous
antagonistasthiswasnew.Ileanedonmycrutches,however,andlookedather
unblenchingly.
'YouwickedEnglishboy,tomakemyfathercry,'saidshe,assoonasheranger
allowedhertospeak.'IfyouwerenotlameI'd—I'd—I'dhityou.'
Ididnotmoveamuscle,butstoodlostinadreamofwonderatheramazing
loveliness.Thefieryflushuponherfaceandneck,thebewitchingchildishfrown
ofangercorrugatingthebrow,thedazzlingglitteroftheteeth,thequiverofthe
fullscarletlipsaboveandbelowthem,turnedmedizzywithadmiration.
Hereyesmetmine,andslowlythevioletflamesinthembegantosoften.Then
theydiedawayentirelyasshemurmured,
'YouwickedEnglishboy,ifyouhadn't—beautiful—beautifuleyes,
I'dkillyou.'
Bythistime,however,Tomhadentirelyforgottenhisgrievanceagainstme,and
gazeduponWinifredinastateofdrunkenwonderment.