The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1884-05-23
CHAPTER III.
What eilence hldes. chat knowest thon.

What silence hides that knowest thou.
From that day the change in Mr.. Eyre
became still more marked, and though
he was able to hide the workings Of his
mind from Madcap, to Frank it became
clear that he looked, moved, and spoke
only by series of continued efforts, his
will seeming to have lost the command
it had hitherto exercised over the i'm
passible features, and acute mind. And
in truth, the bitter sense that he no
longer ruled his own fate crept like
blight over that proud spirit to which
impotence meant dishonor; and while
outwardly immersed in those peaceful
pursuits and pleasures that had hither-
TO made the sum of his own and Mad
caps happiness, inwardly his thoughts
were inwrapped and inwoven like those
thousands of snakes in the bed of the
Ganges, of which Pliny speaks as
writing and twisting in ceaseless con-
volutions, yet never succeeding for one
instant in freeing themselves from each
other. He was man haunted by
strange echoes, as one who. walking in
dense fog by the light of lantern, and
by chance turning, sees himself i'm
pressed on the fog in rude gigantic out
lines that make him strange in his own
eyes-eXaggerated, monStrOus. startling
him with the thought of a dual exist
ence in which each self is known to the
other, though the link between the two
is invisible. Strange impressions came
and went in his understanding that
was not himself looked at him out of
the inmost chambers of his soul, and
impelled him to deeds of which he knew
nothing. In this rousing of blind in
ward forces. his hand would involun-
tarily clinch and lift itself, till awaken
ed by the act, his will would assert
itself. and question the mind, that only
gave him back uncertain replies, like
face that is reflected in shivered glass.
His sleep became fitful, and full of
dreams. More than once he had found
himself in some distant part of the
house, not knowing how he had got
pressed by that indication which we
get, as it were, by accident, and with
out seeking for, that has been defined
as an omen.
His action in the hay feld-automatic,
entirely without the ratification of his
will-had appalled, him. True, he had
prepared himself for emergencies; but
this demon that leaped to the helm and
acted for him was unknown, unauthor-
lied. Into what further depths of crime
it might plunge him he shuddered to
guess at, and next day sent Frank to
Hester, Offering any. terms she pleased,
if she would only eavethevillage.- But,
alas! she had got beyond either him or
Madcap now. The starved motherhood
in her had found food, and nothing short
Of death should make her renounce it,
and there was another reason why she
must stay. one that drew her to the
child with more idolizing love each day,
the outcast's heart recognizing that TO
which the mothers was blind. She
must stay now to the end, no matter in
how great peril her life stood land OF
could be no doubt since the day when,
taking covert peep at her darling, Mr..
Eyre had spied and fired at her as an
assassin); though il sometimes an alter
native that offered safety with happi-
ness presented itself, she thrust it aside,
she would do nothing that could cause
Madcap one moments pain. NU
And IL Mr.. Eyre would only have
realized it, Madcap ran no risk OF harm
from Hester, even IL the latter had will
ed such to her; for life is made up Of
chances, and though we keenly note
each untoward one, we are blind to the
million atoms that work in our favor;
since Nature, left to herself, plans
things easily-it is only man who, by
violent exercise Of will, forces the cur
rents of fate in a wrong direction.
He said little when Frank announced
the failure Of his errand, but each hour
the sense of dependence upon the wo-
man burned moro deeply into his proud
eoul. as with bitter humiliation he Sc
cretlv filled that pillorv of shame In