Felix Holt | Page 5

life to the far-stretching life that went
before, and to the life that is to come after, such as has raised the pity
and terror of men ever since they began to discern between will and
destiny. But these things are often unknown to the world; for there is
much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human
agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence.
There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder;
robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy,
yet kept secret by the sufferer - committed to no sound except that of
low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face

by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears.
Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into
no human ear.
The poets have told us of a dolorous enchanted forest in the under
world. The thorn-bushes there, and the thick-barked stems, have human
histories hidden in them; the power of unuttered cries dwells in the
passionless-seeming branches, and the red warm blood is darkly
feeding the quivering nerves of a sleepless memory that watches
through all dreams. These things are a parable.

Chapter 1
He left me when the down upon his lip Lay like the shadow of a
hovering kiss. 'Beautiful mother, do not grieve,' he said; 'I will be great,
and build our fortunes high, And you shall wear the longest train at
court, And look so queenly, all the lords shall say, "She is a royal
changeling: there's some crown Lacks the right head, since hers wears
nought but braids." ' O, he is coming now - but I am grey; And he -
ON the 1st of September, in the memorable year 1832, some one was
expected at Transome Court. As early as two o'clock in the afternoon
the aged lodge-keeper had opened the heavy gate, green as the tree
trunks were green with nature's powdery paint, deposited year after
year. Already in the village of Little Treby, which lay on the side of a
steep hill not far off the lodge gates, the elder matrons sat in their best
gowns at the few cottage doors bordering the road, that they might be
ready to get up and make their curtsy when a travelling carriage should
come in sight; and beyond the village several small boys were stationed
on the lookout, intending to run a race to the barn-like old church,
where the sexton waited in the belfry ready to set the one bell in joyful
agitation just at the right moment.
The old lodge-keeper had opened the gate and left it in the charge of his
lame wife, because he was wanted at the Court to sweep away the
leaves, and perhaps to help in the stables. For though Transome Court

was a large mansion, built in the fashion of Queen Anne's time, with a
park and grounds as fine as any to be seen in Loamshire, there were
very few servants about it. Especially, it seemed, there must be a lack
of gardeners; for, except on the terrace surrounded with a stone parapet
in front of the house, where there was a parterre kept with some
neatness, grass had spread itself over the gravel walks, and over all the
low mounds once carefully cut as black beds for the shrubs and larger
plants. Many of the windows had the shutters closed, and under the
grand Scotch fir that stooped towards one corner, the brown fir-needles
of many years lay in a small stone balcony in front of two such
darkened windows. All round, both near and far, there were grand trees,
motionless in the still sunshine, and, like all large motionless things,
seeming to add to the stillness. Here and there a leaf fluttered down;
petals fell in a silent shower; a heavy moth floated by, and, when it
settled, seemed to fall wearily; the tiny birds alighted on the walks, and
hopped about in perfect tranquillity; even a stray rabbit sat nibbling a
leaf that was to its liking, in the middle of a grassy space, with an air
that seemed quite impudent in so timid a creature. No sound was to be
heard louder than a sleepy hum, and the soft monotony of running
water hurrying on to the river that divided the park. Standing on the
south or east side of the house, you would never have guessed that an
arrival was expected.
But on the west side, where the carriage entrance was, the gates under
the stone archway were thrown open; and so was the double door of the
entrance-hall, letting in the warm light on the