it
was possible to drive to a village at the foot, and to put up vehicles
at a country inn; and it was proposed that they should take luncheon up
to the tower, and eat it there. The Sandys party were to drive there,
and Howard was to drive over with Miss Merry and meet them. Howard did
not at all relish the prospect. He had a torturing desire for the
presence of Maud, and yet he seemed unable to establish any
communication with her; and he felt that the liveliness of the young
men would reduce him to a condition of amiable ineffectiveness which
would make him, as Marie Bashkirtseff naively said, hardly worth
seeing. However, there was no way out, and on a delicious July morning,
with soft sunlight everywhere, and great white clouds floating in a sky
of turquoise blue, Howard and Miss Merry started from Windlow. The
little lady was full of decorous glee, and her mirth, like a working
cauldron, threw all her high-minded tastes to the surface. She asked
Howard's opinion about quite a number of literary masterpieces, and she
ingenuously gave utterance to her meek and joyful views of life, the
privileges she enjoyed, and the inspiration which she derived from the
ethical views of Robert Browning. Howard found himself wondering why it
was all so dreadfully uninteresting and devoid of charm; he asked
himself whether, if the little spinster had been personally more
attractive, her optimistic chirpings would have seemed to have more
significance. Miss Merry had a perfectly definite view of life, and she
made life into a distinct success; she was a happy woman, sustained by
an abundance of meek enthusiasm. She accepted everything that happened
to her, whether good or evil, with the same eager interest. Suffering,
according to Miss Merry, had an educative quality, and life was haunted
for her by echoes of excellent literature, accurately remembered. But
Howard had a feeling that one must not swallow life quite so
uncritically, that there ought somehow to be more discrimination; and
Miss Merry's eager adoration of everything and everybody reduced him to
a flatness which he found it difficult to conceal. He could not think
what was the matter with her views. She revelled in what she called
problems, and the more incomplete that anything appeared, the more
certain was Miss Merry of ultimate perfection. There did not seem any
room for humanity, with its varying moods, in her outlook; and yet
Howard had the grace to be ashamed of his ow