forgot the luggage and the
motor-cars, and the hurrying men who know so much and connect so little.
She recaptured the sense of space, which is the basis of all earthly
beauty, and, starting from Howards End, she attempted to realise
England. She failed--visions do not come when we try, though they may
come through trying. But an unexpected love of the island awoke in her,
connecting on this side with the joys of the flesh, on that with the
inconceivable. Helen and her father had known this love, poor Leonard
Bast was groping after it, but it had been hidden from Margaret till
this afternoon. It had certainly come through the house and old Miss
Avery. Through them: the notion of "through" persisted; her mind
trembled towards a conclusion which only the unwise have put into words.
Then, veering back into warmth, it dwelt on ruddy bricks, flowering
plum-trees, and all the tangible joys of spring.

Henry, after allaying her agitation, had taken her over his property,
and had explained to her the use and dimensions of the various rooms. He
had sketched the history of the little estate. "It is so unlucky," ran
the monologue, "that money wasn't put into it about fifty years ago.
Then it had four--five--times the land--thirty acres at least. One
could have made something out of it then--a small park, or at all events
shrubberies, and rebuilt the house farther away from the road. What's
the good of taking it in hand now? Nothing but the meadow left, and even
that was heavily mortgaged when I first had to do with things--yes, and
the house too. Oh, it was no joke." She saw two women as he spoke, one
old, the other young, watching their inheritance melt away. She saw them
greet him as a deliverer. "Mismanagement did it--besides, the days for
small farms are over. It doesn't pay--except with intensive cultivation.
Small holdings, back to the land--ah! philanthropic bunkum. Take it as a
rule that nothing pays on a small scale. Most of the land you see (they
were standing at an upper window, the only one which faced west) belongs
to the people at the Park--they made their pile over copper--good chaps.
Avery's Farm, Sishe's--what they call the Common, where you see that
ruined oak--one after the other fell in, and so did this, as near as
is no matter." But Henry had saved it; without fine feelings or deep
insight, but he had saved it, and she loved him for the deed. "When
I had more control I did what I could--sold off the two and a