-thegreateventofhislife，andashelookedattheothersherealised，youngashewas，thatnoneofthemfeltitashedid，andtherealisationgavehimastrangefeeling，halfofgratification，halfofloneliness。Hestoodthere，alittleapartfromtherestofthem，clutchinghisbox，andholdingontoHamlet’slead，feelingsodeeplyexcitedthathisheartwaslikeahard，coldstonejumpingupanddown，bump，bump，behindhiswaistcoat。
　　“That’sJim！That’sJim！“hewhisperedinahoarsegasptoMissJones。
　　“Nowmind，dear，“sheansweredinherkindly，gropingvoice。“You’llbefallingontotherailifyouaren’tcareful。“
　　ItstrangelyannoyedhimthathisfathershouldgreetJimjustasthoughheweresomequiteordinarymaninPolchester。HehimselfwaitedinastrangeagitationuntilJimshouldnoticehim。Themanturnedatlast，bendingdowntopickupabox，sawhim，touchedhiscap，smilingalong，crookedsmile，andJeremyblushedwithhappiness。Itwasthefirstrecognitionthathehadhadfromthefarm，anditpleasedhim。
　　Theyallmoveduptothehigherroad。UncleSamuel，comingonatthelast，inadreamy，moodyway，stoppingonthebridgetolookdownattherailway-line，andthensuddenlysayingaloud：
　　“Theirmindsarefullofthenumberofboxes，andwhetherthey’llgettea，andwho’stopaywhat，and’HowbadlyIwantawash！’andalreadyto-morrowthey’llbewonderingwhethertheyoughn’ttobegettinghometoPolchester。Allsham！Allsham！“
　　Hewasn’tspeakingtoJeremy，buttohimself。However，Jeremysaid：
　　“DidyouseeJim，Uncle？“
　　“No，Ididnot。“
　　“He’sfatterandredderthanlastyear。“
　　“Ishouldn’twonder。“
　　“Areyougoingtopaint，Uncle？“
　　“Iam。“
　　“What？“
　　“Oh，justlinesandcircles。“
　　Jeremypaused，standingforamoment，andlookedpuzzled。Thenhesaid：
　　“Doyoulikebabies，UncleSamuel？“
　　“No，Idonot。“
　　“NotevenBarbara？“
　　“No——certainlynot。“
　　“Idon’t，too……Whydon’tyoupaintcowsandhouseslikeotherpeople，UncleSamuel？IheardFathersayoncethatheneverknewwhatyourpicturesmeant。“
　　“That’swhyIpaintthem。“
　　“Why？“
　　“Sothatyourfathershan’tknowwhattheymean。“
　　Althoughhedidnotunderstandthisanymorethanheunderstoodhisuncle，Jeremywaspleasedwiththisconversation。Ithadbeen，somehow，intonewiththeplaceandthehour；ithadconveyedtohiminsomestrangefashionthathisunclecaredforallofthisratherashehimselfcared。Oh！helikedUncleSamuel！
　　HehadhopedthathemighthavesatontheboxnexttoJim，butthatplacewasnowpiledupwithluggage，sohewassqueezedinbetweenhismotherandMrs。Patcham，withHamlet，veryuncomfortable，betweenhisknees。Theydroveoffdownthehighroad，thehotsmellofthegrasscametohisnostrils，thesunblazeddownuponthem，turningthepathbeforethemintogleamingsteel，andthehighGlebeshirehedges，coveredwiththinpowder，roseonbothsidesabovethem，breakingonceandagaintoshowthefoldingvalleys，andthefaintbluehills，andtheheavy，darktreeswiththeirthick，blackshadowsstainingthegrass。
　　Thecowswereclusteredsleepingwherevertheycouldfindshadow；
　　faintlysheep-bellstinkledinthedistance，andnowandthenastream，likebrokenglass，floated，cried，andwasgone。Theydroveintoadarkwood，andthesunscatteredthroughthetreesinpiecesofgoldandshadowystreamsofarrowedlight。Thebirdsweresinging，andwheneverthehoofsofthehorsesandthewheelsturnedontosoftmossorlinesofgrass，inthesuddensilencetheairwasfilledwithbirds’voices。Thatprovedthatitmustnowbeturningtotheeveningoftheday；thesunwasnotveryhighabovethewood，andtheseaofbluewasinvadedbyahighgalleonofcloudthathoveredwithspreadingsail，catchinggoldintoitsheartasitmoved。Theyleftthewood，crossedtheRiverGarth，andcameoutontomoorland。Here，forthefirsttime，Jeremysmeltthesea；thelaneshadbeenhot，butherethewindblewacrossthemoor，withthesmellofsea-pinksandsea-gullsinit。Thegrasswasshortandrough；thesoilwassand。Onthehorizonwasthegrey，melancholytowerofadesertedmine。Somebirdflewwithswiftlydrivingwings，cryingasitwent。Thesmellofthemoorwasasfreshasthoughthefootofmanhadnevercrossedit——deserted，butnotalone；bare，butnotempty；uninhabited，butpeopled；silent，butfullofvoices。
　　Jeremy’sexcitementgrew。Heknewnowhoweverylineoftheroadwouldbe。TheyleftthemoorandwereontheroadleadingtoRafield。ThesewerethedaysbeforetheybuilttheroadfromLiskanewideenoughformotor-carsandotherhorribleinventions。Thirtyyearsagothewaywassonarrowthatthebriarsandfernsbrushedyourfaceasyoupassed，andyoucouldreachoutyourhandandplucksnap-dragonsanddandelionsandfox-gloves。Manyroadstwistedinandoutupononeanother；thecornersweresosharpthatsometimesthewagonetteseemedtohangupononewheelasitturned。Stillnosightofthesea，butthesmellofitnowwaseverywhere，andsometimesatasuddenbendtherewouldcomeafaintbeat，beatupontheearwithsomethingrhymingandmeasuredinit，likethemurmurofasleepinggiant。
　　TheycametothebendwherethehillsuddenlydipsatafearfulangledownintoRafield。Heretheyturnedtotheright，deepbetweenedgesagain，thenthroughalittlecopse，andthen，asthoughwithawhiskofthefinger，rightontoCowFarmitself。
　　Itwasanoldsquarehouse，deepredbrick，withcrookedchimneys，andsstonecourtinfrontofit。Toeithersideofthecourttherewerebarns。Behindthehousethicktrees，cloudedwithgreen，showed。Inthemiddleofthecourtwasapump，andallabouttheflaggedstonespigeonsweredelicatelywalking。Astheydroveup，thepigeonsroseinawheelingflightagainsttheskynowstainingfaintlywithamber；dogsrushedbarkingfromthebarns；ahaycartturnedthecomer，itswheelscreaking，andfourlittlechildrenperchedhighonthetopofthehay。Thenthehall-dooropened，andbeholdMrs。Monk，Mr。Monk，and，clusteringshylybehind，thelittleMonks。
　　InthescenethatfollowedJeremywasforgotten。Hedidnotknowwhatitwasthatmadehimhangbehindtheothers，buthestoodbesidethewagonette，bentdownandreleasedHamlet，andthenwaited，hidingundertheshadowofthecart。Hishappinesswasalmostintolerable；hecouldnotspeak，hecouldnotmove，andintheheartofhishappinesstherewasastrangeunhappinessthathehadneverknownbefore。ThelonelinessthathehadfeltatLiskaneStationwasintensified，sothathefeltlikeastrangerwhowasseeinghisfather，orhismother，oraunt，orsistersforthefirsttime。Everythingabouthimemphasisedtheloneliness：thesloweveninglightthatwasstealingintothesky，thesoundofsomemachineinthefarm-houseturningwithamelancholyrhythmicwhine，avoicecallinginthefields，therumbleofthesea，thetwitteringofbirdsinthegardentrees，thebarkofadogfar，faraway，and，throughthemall，thesensethattheworldwassinkingdownintosilence，andthatallthesoundswereslippingaway，likevisitorshurryingfromtheparkbeforethegatesareshut；hestoodthere，listening，caughtintoalifethatwasutterlyhisownandhadnosharewithanyother。Helookedaroundandsawthattheywereallgoingintothehouse，thatJimandMr。Monkwerebusywiththeboxes，andthatnoonewasawareofhim。Heknewwhathewanted。
　　Heslippedacrossthecourt，anddroppedintotheblackcavernousholeofthefartherbarn。Atfirstthedarknessstoppedhim；butheknewhisway，foundthestepsthatleduptotheloft，andwassoonperchedhighbehindalittlesquarewindowthatwasnowblueandgoldagainstthevelvetyblacknessbehindhim。Thiswashisfavouritespotinallthefarm。Here，alltheyear，theystoredtheapples，andthesmellofthefruitwasthickintheair，sweetandstrong，clingingabouteveryfibreoftheplace，sothatyoucouldnotdisturbastrandnorastonewithoutsendingsomenewdriftofthescentupagainstyournostrils。Alltheyearafterhisfirstvisit，Jeremyhadbeenlongingtosmellthatsmellagain，andnowhekneltupagainstthewindow，drinkingitin。Withhiseyeshesearchedthehorizon。Fromhereyoucouldseethegardenwiththesun-dial，thefieldsbeyond，thesuddendipwiththetreesattheedgeofitbentcrosswaysbythewind，andthere，insuchacupasone’shandsmightform，justbeyond，wasthesea……
　　Hestaredasthoughhiseyeswouldstartfromhishead。Behindhimwasthecloudysmokeoftheapple-scent；infrontofhimthesunwassinkingtowardsthedarkelms。Soonthetreeswouldcatchthesunandhideit；thegalleoncloudthathadbeenoverthemastheydrovewasnewbankedinredandgoldacrossthehorizon；birdsslowly，lazilyfledtotheirhomes。
　　Heheardsomeonecall，“Jeremy！Jeremy！“Withalastgazehesawthebluecupturntogold，thesunreachedthetopsoftheelms；thefieldswerelitwiththeglitterofshiningglass，then，evenashewatched，theywerepurple，thengrey，thendimlikesmoke。
　　Againthevoicecalled“Jeremy！“Heslippedfromthewindow，foundthelittlestair，ranacrosstheduskycourtandenteredthehouse。
　　CHAPTERIX
　　THEAWAKENINGOFCHARLOTTE
　　I
　　Towardstheendofthefirstfortnight’sstayatCowFarmitwasannouncedthatveryshortlytherewouldbeapicnicatRafielCove。
　　Jeremyhadbeenwaitingforthisproclamation；onceortwicehehadaskedwhethertheyweregoingtotheCoveandhadbeentold“nottobother，““allingoodtime，“andotherridiculouselderlyfinalities，butheknewthatthedaymustcome，asithadalwayscomeeveryyear。ThepicnicatRafieldwasalwaysthecentraleventofthesummer。Andhehadthisyearanotherreasonforexcitedanticipation——thewonderfulCharlotteLePagewastobepresent。
　　UntilnowJeremyhadnevertakentheslightestinterestingirls。
　　MaryandHelen，beinghissisters，werenecessitiesandinevitabilities，butthatdidnotmeanthathecouldnotgetalongveryeasilywithoutthem，andindeedMarywithherjealousies，herstrangesulkytemperandsuddensentimentalrepentanceswascertainlyaburdenandrestraint。AstothelittlegirlsinPolchester，hehadfranklyfoundthemtiresomeandstupid，thinkingofthemselves，terrifiedofthemostnaturalphenomenaanduntruthfulintheirstatements。Hehadbeenalwaysindependentandreservedwitheveryone，andbudnever，inallhislife，hadaclosefriend，buttherehadbeen，especiallyoflate，boyswithwhomithadbeenamusingtospendanhourortwo，andsincehisfightwiththeDean’sErnesthehadthoughtthatitwouldberatherinterestingtomakeafurthertrialofstrengthwithwhomsoever……
　　Girlswerestupid，uninteresting，conceitedandslow。Henever，inallhislife，wantedtohaveanythingtodowithgirls。ButCharlotteLePagewasanothermatter。Shehad，inthefirstplace，becomequiteatraditionintheColefamily。Shewasthedaughterofawealthylandowner，whoalwaysspenthisholidaysinRafiel。Sheandherverybeautiful，verysuperiormotherhadbeenseenonmanyoccasionsbytheColesdrivingabouttheGlebeshireroadsinafineandlanguidmanner，amannertowhichtheColesknew，verywell，theythemselvescouldneverattain。ThenMrs。Colehadcalled，andMrs。LePageandCharlottehadcometoteaatCowFarm。Thishadbeenayearago，whenJeremyhadbeenonlyseven；nevertheless，hehadbeenpresentduringthefirstpartoftheceremony，andCharlottehadstruckhimasentirelyamazing。
　　Hehadsimplygazedatherwithhismouthopen，forgettingallhisgoodmanners。Shewasatthistimenineortenyearsofagebutverysmalland，astheysayofthemostmodernkindofdoll，“perfectineveryparticular。“Shehadwonderfulhairofabrightripplinggold；