drawing-room. The circumstance was in itself sufficiently peculiar, for on weekdays the drawing-room was never used, even by the girls during their h

f-conscious effort to behave as though nothing had ha

red Sophia, with a s

h was at right-angles with, and close to, the drawing-room door. Then she surged s

s past developed into something absolutely "providential" for them. (It is to be remembered that in those days Providence was still busying himself with everybody's affairs, and foreseeing the future in the most extraordinary manner. Thus, having foreseen that John Baines would have a "stroke" and need a faithful, tireless nurse, he had begun fifty years in advance by creating Aunt Maria, and had kept her carefully in misfortune's way, so that at the proper moment she would be ready to cope with the stroke. Such at least is the only theory which will explain the use by the Baineses, and indeed by all thinking Bursley, of the word "pro

the thrill which ran through the town on that night when it was known that John Baines had had a stroke, and that his left arm and left leg and his right eyelid were paralyzed, and that the active member of the Local Board, the orator, the religious worker, the very life of the town's life, was permanently done for. She had never heard of the crisis through which her mother, assisted by Aunt Harriet, had passed, and out of which she had triumphantly emerged. She was not yet old enough even to suspect it. She possessed only the vaguest memory of her father before he had finished with the

had said: "Mother, why did father have a stroke?" and Mrs. Baines had replied: "It was a haemorrh

habit of years, gradually built up a gigantic fiction that the organism remained ever the supreme consultative head of the family; if Mr. Critchlow had not obstinately continued to treat it as a crony, the mass of living and dead nerves on the rich Victorian bedstead would have been of no

l she had sat down on the end of the sofa at the foot of the bed. He seemed to stud

hat S

" she answere

use, the old man sai

mother said she

, occasionally, days of comparative nimbleness, when his w

nd a troubled look came into his left eye. Sophia rose and, putting her hands under his armpits, li

red. "That's i

h, such an incarnation of the spirit of health, and he was so far gone in decay and corruption, that there

nd made preparatory noises in

ching her arm, "Your mother's been telli

m, and his anxious, dim g

wness. "I'm surprised at ye... Trade's bad, bad! Y

es. The words "North" and "South" had a habit of recurring in the conversation of adult persons. That

ur mother!" he repeated, as if wishful to direct Sophia's attention to the spectacle of her mother

For a similar reason she would not avert her glance. A deepening flush increased the lustre of her immature loveliness as she bent over him.

ered. "Nay, nay! I

tip as he looked up at the ceil

d me?" he ques

s to be deferential and flattering to every customer that entered. No, she did not understand it; but her mother (though a proud woman) and Constance seemed to practise such behaviour so naturally, so unquestioningly, that she had never imparted to either of them her feelings; she guessed that she would not be comprehended. But long ago she had decided that she would never "go into the shop." She knew that she would be expected to do something, and she had fixed on teaching as the one possibility. These decisions had formed part o

l then, obedience and the respect of reason. It was her father who appeared tragically ridiculous; and, in turn, the whole movement against her grew grotesque in its absurdity. Here was this antique wreck, helpless, useless, powerless-merely pathetic-actually thinking that he had only to mumble in order to make her 'understand'! He knew nothing; he perceived nothing; he was a ferocio

d girl," he said.

ncy humiliated her past bearing. She was humiliated, not for h

he corridor, otherwise Sophia had been

ysterically to Constance, and f