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Updated: June 1, 2025
He worked the better, he thought the more clearly, for these talks and walks with Elsmere, and therefore these talks and walks became an object with him. They supplied a long-stifled want, the scholar's want of disciples, of some form of investment for all that heaped-up capital of thought he had been accumulating during a life-time.
It seemed that I was not destined, after all, to "ruin my publishers," as I had despondently foretold in a letter to my husband before the appearance of Robert Elsmere; but that, with regular work, I might look forward to a fairly steady income.
He hurried his work a little, and after it was done asked Robert to walk up the road with him. 'I have seen the squire, sir, he said, turning on his companion with a certain excitement. Robert flushed. 'Have you? he replied with his hands behind him, and a world of expression in his sarcastic voice. 'You misjudge him! You misjudge him, Mr. Elsmere! the old man said tremulously.
The real fact is that I want to hear Elsmere. 'You had better go, my dear! said her husband sardonically. 'I cannot imagine anything more piquant than an atheistic slum on Easter Eve. 'Nor can I! she replied, her combativeness rousing at once. 'Much obliged to you, Hugh. I will borrow my housekeeper's dress, and be ready to leave here at half-past seven.
'What indeed! said the young man who had begun the conversation with a disagreeable enigmatical smile, stretching out his hand for another cigarette, and drawing it back with a look under his drooped eyelids a look of cold impertinent scrutiny at Catherine Elsmere. 'Ah! well I don't want to be obtrusively moral Heaven forbid!
'To talk of a father's wishes, in a case of this kind, ten years after his death, is surely excessive, said Langham with dry interrogation; then, suddenly recollecting himself, 'I beg your pardon, Elsmere. I am interfering. 'Nonsense, said Robert brightly, 'I don't wonder, it seems like a difficulty of our own making.
Catharine Elsmere sat silent a moment watching the two departing figures; then as Mary found a place in the grass beside her, she said, with some constraint: "You walked with him from Maudeley?" "Mr. Meynell? Yes, I found him there at tea. He was very anxious to pay his respects to you; so I brought him." "I can't imagine why he should have thought it necessary."
Henslowe, who was drinking hard, no sooner heard Elsmere's voice in the little hall than he dashed open the door which separated them, and, in a paroxysm of drunken rage, hurled at Elsmere all the venomous stuff he had been garnering up for months against some such occasion. The vilest abuse, the foulest charges there was nothing that the maddened sot, now fairly unmasked, denied himself.
And in return, the tutor allowed himself rarely, very rarely, a moment of utterance from the depths of his real self. One evening in the summer term following the boy's matriculation, Elsmere brought him an essay after Hall, and they sat on talking afterwards.
But in the spiritual exaltation of the night she felt herself equal to any conflict, any endurance, and she fell asleep, the hands clasped on her breast expressing a kind of resolute patience, like those of some old sepulchral monument. The following morning Elsmere examined the clouds and the barometer with abnormal interest.
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