you’ve never been to Glebeshire? You don’t know the Clarence Faunders then? They’re only five miles from us”, or “Yes. We live in Glebeshire—a little village not far from Polchester. We’re very lucky in our clergyman, a Mr. Smart, one of the Smarts, etc.” Moreover, she never when she was quite alone said to herself: “Oh! what a heavenly day!” or “How lovely the new leaves are”, or “Look at the primroses!” She only said to herself: “Lucy Cartwright’s Annie has got to have that ointment”, or “I must tell Rebekah about the poor Curtises. She could take them the things.” Nevertheless, when she discovered that Katherine cared for Glebeshire with a love as deep as her own, how happy she was! How firmly that discovery bound them together! For them both that journey twice a year from London to Garth was as exciting as though they had never taken it before. The stations, whose names were like the successive wrappers that enclose a splendid present, Rasselas, the little windy station where they changed from the London Express into the halting, stumbling little train that carried them towards the sea; then Stoep in Roselands, tiniest station of all, with the sea smell blowing across the dark fields, the carriage with its lights and Jacob, the coachman, the drive through the twilight lanes, the gleaming white gates, the house itself and old Rebekah on the doorstep ... yes, of all these things was the love between Mrs. Trenchard and her daughter made. Most wonderful of all was it that, with Katherine, Mrs. Trenchard never knew a moment’s awkwardness or embarrassment. With everyone else in the world and, perhaps especially with her own family, Mrs. Trenchard was often awkward and embarrassed, although no one but herself was aware of it. Of this embarrassment Mrs. Trenchard had a horrible dread: it was to her as though she were suddenly lifted off her feet by a giant hand and held dangling: she felt that all the world must see how her skirts blew in the wind. With Katherine she was always safe: she grew, most urgently, to depend upon this safety. Then, as the years passed she felt that she might, with justice, consider Katherine secure. Katherine seemed to have no interest in young men: already she adopted a rather motherly attitude towards them and, perhaps because Henry was the young man immediately before her, considered them rather helpless, rather clumsy, rather unwieldy and ungainly. She was always kind but a little satirical in her relations to the other sex: young men were, perhaps, afraid of her.