Dream Days | Page 5

door,
however, he tumbled over Augustus the cat, and made capture of him;
and at once his mourning was changed into a song of triumph, as he
conveyed his prize into port. For Augustus, who detested above all
things going to bed with little boys, was ever more knave than fool, and
the trapper who was wily enough to ensnare him had achieved
something notable. Augustus, when he realized that his fate was sealed,
and his night's lodging settled, wisely made the best 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 delight and envy and awe; then he was called upon for
tricks, jugglings, and strange, fearful gymnastics; and lastly came yarns,
and more yarns, and yarns till bedtime. There had never been any one
like Billy in his own particular sphere; and now he was drowned, they
said, and Martha was miserable, and--and I couldn't get a new bootlace.
They told me that Billy would never come back any more, and I stared
out of the window at the sun which came back, right enough, every day,
and their news conveyed nothing whatever to me. Martha's sorrow hit
home a little, but only because the actual sight and sound of it gave me
a dull, bad sort of pain low down inside--a pain not to be actually
located. Moreover, I was still wanting my bootlace.
This was a poor sort of a beginning to a day that, so far as outside
conditions went, had promised so well. I rigged up a sort of jurymast of
a bootlace with a bit of old string, and wandered off to look up the girls,
conscious of a jar and a discordance in the scheme of things. The
moment I entered the schoolroom something in the air seemed to tell
me that here, too, matters were strained and awry. Selina was staring
listlessly out of the window, one foot curled round her leg. When I
spoke to her she jerked a shoulder testily, but did not condescend to the

civility of a reply. Charlotte, absolutely unoccupied, sprawled in a chair,
and there were signs of sniffles about her, even at that early hour. It
was but a trifling matter that had caused all this electricity in the
atmosphere, and the girls' manner of taking it seemed to