DILECTA 599

“‘No, no, I shouldn’t, and I wouldn’t.’

“‘But I must go somehow. I can’t let my friends’ (admire the plural!) ‘come to Southampton for nothing!’ (Now be it remembered, that in those days was no electric telegraph, the mails were closed and just starting, and the Great Western Railway itself only finished as far as Beam Bridge, a small outlying station.) ‘I must go. So please send to tell the coach to come for me.’

“And I had my way. Just saved the coach, which started at 2 P.M., with strong injunctions from Mrs. H. not to get out at Exeter, as it might there become crowded.

45. “I had had nothing since eight o’clock breakfast. The coachman was charged to stop and get me buns; he promised, but did not. The guard was charged to be most careful of me; he promised, and was.

“As we drove on to Exeter, the hitherto bright, breezy day began to justify Mr. Harris, as it was pretty sure to do, he being the great electrician, as well as a first-rate sailor and judge of the weather. (He is well known as Sir W. Snow Harris, the inventor of the conductors which are the safeguards of our ships from lightning.) The clouds gathered, distant low whistlings of wind came from all around, and in a threatening evening, at eight, we reached Exeter; and waited for an hour. I had thus far been alone, and keeping in view Mrs. H.’s advice, stuck firmly to my place, resisting all the blandishments of waiter and chambermaid, and continuing fasting, but in good heart, and not at all hungry.

46. “Some gentlemen got up outside and one young man inside. Of this I could say something which might amuse you, but it has nothing to do with the main point, so I pass it over. The weather after Exeter got worse and worse;-the wind began to bluster, the lightning changed from summer gleams to spiteful forks, and the roll of thunder was almost continuous; and by the time we reached Beam Bridge the storm was at such terrible purpose, that the faithful guard wrapped me up in his waterproof and lifted me, literally, into the shed which served as a station. In like manner, when the train was ready, he lifted me high and dry into a firstclass carriage, in which were two elderly, cosy, friendly-looking gentlemen, evidently fellows in friendship as well as in travel. The old Great Western carriages were double, held eight persons, four in each compartment, and there was a glass door between; which was on this occasion left open. One old gentleman sate with his face to the horses (so to speak) on my side, and one in the inside corner, opposite to me exactly. When I had taken off my cloak and smoothed my plumes, and generally settled myself, I looked up to see the most wonderful eyes I ever saw, steadily, luminously, clairvoyantly, kindly, paternally looking at me. The hat was over the forehead, the mouth and chin buried in the brown velvet coat collar of the brown greatcoat. I looked at him, wondering if my grandfather’s eyes had been like those. I should have described them as the most ‘seeing’ eyes I had ever seen. My father had often spoken of my grandfather’s eyes, as being capable of making a hundred ugly faces handsome; and the peasants used to say, ‘Divil a sowl could tell a lie to his Riverence’s Worship’s eyes.’ (He was a magistrate as well as a parson.) My opposite neighbour’s seemed much of this sort.

47. Well, we went on, and the storm went on more and more, until

[Version 0.04: March 2008]