est of things, and listened, with
a languorous air of complete comprehension, to the incoherent babble
concerning pigs and heroes, moles and bonfires, which served Harold for
a self-sung lullaby. Yet it may be doubted whether Augustus was one of
those rare fellows who thoroughly understood.

But Selina knew no more of this source of consolation than of the
sympathy with which the stars were winking above her; and it was only
after some sad interval of time, and on a very moist pillow, that she
drifted into that quaint inconsequent country where you may meet your
own pet hero strolling down the road, and commit what hair-brained
oddities you like, and everybody understands and appreciates.

DIES IRAE

Those memorable days that move in procession, their heads just out
of the mist of years long dead--the most of them are full-eyed as the
dandelion that from dawn to shade has steeped itself in sunlight.
Here and there in their ranks, however, moves a forlorn one who is
blind--blind in the sense of the dulled window-pane on which the pelting
raindrops have mingled and run down, obscuring sunshine and the circling
birds, happy fields, and storied garden; blind with the spatter of a
misery uncomprehended, unanalysed, only felt as something corporeal in
its buffeting effects.

Martha began it; and yet Martha was not really to blame. Indeed, that
was half the trouble of it--no solid person stood full in view, to be
blamed and to make atonement. There was only a wretched, impalpable
condition to deal with. Breakfast was just over; the sun was summoning
us, imperious as a herald with clamour of trumpet; I ran upstairs to
her with a broken bootlace in my hand, and there she was, crying in a
corner, her head in her apron. Nothing could be got from her but the
same dismal succession of sobs that would not have done, that struck
and hurt like a physical beating; and meanwhile the sun was getting
impatient, and I wanted my bootlace.

Inquiry below stairs revealed the cause. Martha's brother was dead,
it seemed--her sailor brother Billy; drowned in one of those strange
far-off seas it was our dream to navigate one day. We had known Billy
well, and appreciated him. When an approaching visit of Billy to his
sister had been announced, we had counted the days to it. When his
cheery voice was at last heard in the kitchen and we had descended
with shouts, first of all he had to exhibit his tattooed arms, always a
subject for fresh