Therewerealsooneortwoportraitsoffathersandgrandmothers，andanengravingofJohnStuartMill，afterthepicturebyWatts。
　　Itwasaroomwithoutdefinitecharacter，beingneithertypicallyandopenlyhideous，norstrenuouslyartistic，norreallycomfortable。
　　Rachelrousedherselffromthecontemplationofthisfamiliarpicture。
　　“Butthisisn’tveryinterestingforyou，“shesaid，lookingup。
　　“GoodLord！“Hewetexclaimed。“I’veneverbeensomuchinterestedinmylife。“ShethenrealisedthatwhileshehadbeenthinkingofRichmond，hiseyeshadneverleftherface。Theknowledgeofthisexcitedher。
　　“Goon，pleasegoon，“heurged。“Let’simagineit’saWednesday。
　　You’reallatluncheon。Yousitthere，andAuntLucythere，andAuntClarahere“；hearrangedthreepebblesonthegrassbetweenthem。
　　“AuntClaracarvestheneckoflamb，“Rachelcontinued。
　　Shefixedhergazeuponthepebbles。“There’saveryuglyyellowchinastandinfrontofme，calledadumbwaiter，onwhicharethreedishes，oneforbiscuits，oneforbutter，andoneforcheese。
　　There’sapotofferns。Thenthere’sBlanchethemaid，whosnufflesbecauseofhernose。Wetalk——ohyes，it’sAuntLucy’safternoonatWalworth，sowe’reratherquickoverluncheon。Shegoesoff。
　　Shehasapurplebag，andablacknotebook。AuntClarahaswhattheycallaG。F。S。meetinginthedrawing-roomonWednesday，soItakethedogsout。IgoupRichmondHill，alongtheterrace，intothepark。It’sthe18thofApril——thesamedayasitishere。
　　It’sspringinEngland。Thegroundisratherdamp。However，Icrosstheroadandgetontothegrassandwewalkalong，andIsingasIalwaysdowhenI’malone，untilwecometotheopenplacewhereyoucanseethewholeofLondonbeneathyouonaclearday。
　　HampsteadChurchspirethere，WestminsterCathedraloverthere，andfactorychimneysabouthere。There’sgenerallyahazeoverthelowpartsofLondon；butit’softenblueovertheparkwhenLondon’sinamist。It’stheopenplacethattheballoonscrossgoingovertoHurlingham。They’repaleyellow。Well，then，itsmellsverygood，particularlyiftheyhappentobeburningwoodinthekeeper’slodgewhichisthere。Icouldtellyounowhowtogetfromplacetoplace，andexactlywhattreesyou’dpass，andwhereyou’dcrosstheroads。
　　Yousee，IplayedtherewhenIwassmall。Springisgood，butit’sbestintheautumnwhenthedeerarebarking；thenitgetsdusky，andIgobackthroughthestreets，andyoucan’tseepeopleproperly；
　　theycomepastveryquick，youjustseetheirfacesandthenthey’regone——that’swhatIlike——andnooneknowsintheleastwhatyou’redoing——“
　　“Butyouhavetobebackfortea，Isuppose？“Hewetcheckedher。
　　“Tea？Ohyes。Fiveo’clock。ThenIsaywhatI’vedone，andmyauntssaywhatthey’vedone，andperhapssomeonecomesin:
　　Mrs。Hunt，let’ssuppose。She’sanoldladywithalameleg。
　　Shehasorsheoncehadeightchildren；soweaskafterthem。
　　They’reallovertheworld；soweaskwheretheyare，andsometimesthey’reill，orthey’restationedinacholeradistrict，orinsomeplacewhereitonlyrainsonceinfivemonths。Mrs。Hunt，“
　　shesaidwithasmile，“hadasonwhowashuggedtodeathbyabear。“
　　HereshestoppedandlookedatHewettoseewhetherhewasamusedbythesamethingsthatamusedher。Shewasreassured。Butshethoughtitnecessarytoapologiseagain；shehadbeentalkingtoomuch。
　　“Youcan’tconceivehowitinterestsme，“hesaid。
　　Indeed，hiscigarettehadgoneout，andhehadtolightanother。
　　“Whydoesitinterestyou？“sheasked。
　　“Partlybecauseyou’reawoman，“hereplied。Whenhesaidthis，Rachel，whohadbecomeobliviousofanything，andhadrevertedtoachildlikestateofinterestandpleasure，lostherfreedomandbecameself-conscious。Shefeltherselfatoncesingularandunderobservation，asshefeltwithSt。JohnHirst。Shewasabouttolaunchintoanargumentwhichwouldhavemadethembothfeelbitterlyagainsteachother，andtodefinesensationswhichhadnosuchimportanceaswordswereboundtogivethemwhenHewetledherthoughtsinadifferentdirection。
　　“I’veoftenwalkedalongthestreetswherepeopleliveallinarow，andonehouseisexactlylikeanotherhouse，andwonderedwhatonearththewomenweredoinginside，“hesaid。“Justconsider:
　　it’sthebeginningofthetwentiethcentury，anduntilafewyearsagonowomanhadevercomeoutbyherselfandsaidthingsatall。
　　Thereitwasgoingoninthebackground，forallthosethousandsofyears，thiscurioussilentunrepresentedlife。Ofcoursewe’realwayswritingaboutwomen——abusingthem，orjeeringatthem，orworshippingthem；butit’snevercomefromwomenthemselves。
　　Ibelievewestilldon’tknowintheleasthowtheylive，orwhattheyfeel，orwhattheydoprecisely。Ifone’saman，theonlyconfidencesonegetsarefromyoungwomenabouttheirloveaffairs。Butthelivesofwomenofforty，ofunmarriedwomen，ofworkingwomen，ofwomenwhokeepshopsandbringupchildren，ofwomenlikeyourauntsorMrs。ThornburyorMissAllan——
　　oneknowsnothingwhateveraboutthem。Theywon’ttellyou。
　　Eitherthey’reafraid，orthey’vegotawayoftreatingmen。
　　It’stheman’sviewthat’srepresented，yousee。Thinkofarailwaytrain:fifteencarriagesformenwhowanttosmoke。
　　Doesn’titmakeyourbloodboil？IfIwereawomanI’dblowsomeone’sbrainsout。Don’tyoulaughatusagreatdeal？
　　Don’tyouthinkitallagreathumbug？You，Imean——howdoesitallstrikeyou？“
　　Hisdeterminationtoknow，whileitgavemeaningtotheirtalk，hamperedher；heseemedtopressfurtherandfurther，andmadeitappearsoimportant。Shetooksometimetoanswer，andduringthattimeshewentoverandoverthecourseofhertwenty-fouryears，lightingnowononepoint，nowonanother——onheraunts，hermother，herfather，andatlasthermindfixeduponherauntsandherfather，andshetriedtodescribethemasatthisdistancetheyappearedtoher。
　　Theywereverymuchafraidofherfather。Hewasagreatdimforceinthehouse，bymeansofwhichtheyheldontothegreatworldwhichisrepresentedeverymorninginthe_Times_。Butthereallifeofthehousewassomethingquitedifferentfromthis。
　　ItwentonindependentlyofMr。Vinrace，andtendedtohideitselffromhim。Hewasgood-humouredtowardsthem，butcontemptuous。
　　Shehadalwaystakenitforgrantedthathispointofviewwasjust，andfoundeduponanidealscaleofthingswherethelifeofonepersonwasabsolutelymoreimportantthanthelifeofanother，andthatinthatscaletheyweremuchlessimportancethanhewas。
　　Butdidshereallybelievethat？Hewet’swordsmadeherthink。
　　Shealwayssubmittedtoherfather，justastheydid，butitwasherauntswhoinfluencedherreally；herauntswhobuiltupthefine，closelywovensubstanceoftheirlifeathome。Theywerelesssplendidbutmorenaturalthanherfatherwas。Allherrageshadbeenagainstthem；itwastheirworldwithitsfourmeals，itspunctuality，andservantsonthestairsathalf-pastten，thatsheexaminedsocloselyandwantedsovehementlytosmashtoatoms。
　　Followingthesethoughtsshelookedupandsaid:
　　“Andthere’sasortofbeautyinit——theretheyareatRichmondatthisverymomentbuildingthingsup。They’reallwrong，perhaps，butthere’sasortofbeautyinit，“sherepeated。
　　“It’ssounconscious，somodest。Andyettheyfeelthings。
　　Theydomindifpeopledie。Oldspinstersarealwaysdoingthings。
　　Idon’tquiteknowwhattheydo。OnlythatwaswhatIfeltwhenI
　　livedwiththem。Itwasveryreal。“
　　Shereviewedtheirlittlejourneystoandfro，toWalworth，tocharwomenwithbadlegs，tomeetingsforthisandthat，theirminuteactsofcharityandunselfishnesswhichfloweredpunctuallyfromadefiniteviewofwhattheyoughttodo，theirfriendships，theirtastesandhabits；shesawallthesethingslikegrainsofsandfalling，fallingthroughinnumerabledays，makinganatmosphereandbuildingupasolidmass，abackground。
　　Hewetobservedherassheconsideredthis。
　　“Wereyouhappy？“hedemanded。
　　Againshehadbecomeabsorbedinsomethingelse，andhecalledherbacktoanunusuallyvividconsciousnessofherself。
　　“Iwasboth，“shereplied。“IwashappyandIwasmiserable。
　　You’venoconceptionwhatit’slike——tobeayoungwoman。“
　　Shelookedstraightathim。“Thereareterrorsandagonies，“
　　shesaid，keepinghereyeonhimasiftodetecttheslightesthintoflaughter。
　　“Icanbelieveit，“hesaid。Hereturnedherlookwithperfectsincerity。
　　“Womenoneseesinthestreets，“shesaid。
　　“Prostitutes？“
　　“Menkissingone。“
　　Henoddedhishead。
　　“Youwerenevertold？“
　　Sheshookherhead。
　　“Andthen，“shebeganandstopped。Herecameinthegreatspaceoflifeintowhichnoonehadeverpenetrated。AllthatshehadbeensayingaboutherfatherandherauntsandwalksinRichmondPark，andwhattheydidfromhourtohour，wasmerelyonthesurface。
　　Hewetwaswatchingher。Didhedemandthatsheshoulddescribethatalso？Whydidhesitsonearandkeephiseyeonher？
　　Whydidtheynothavedonewiththissearchingandagony？Whydidtheynotkisseachothersimply？Shewishedtokisshim。Butallthetimeshewentonspinningoutwords。
　　“Agirlismorelonelythanaboy。Noonecaresintheleastwhatshedoes。Nothing’sexpectedofher。Unlessone’sveryprettypeopledon’tlistentowhatyousay……AndthatiswhatIlike，“
　　sheaddedenergetically，asifthememorywereveryhappy。
　　“IlikewalkinginRichmondParkandsingingtomyselfandknowingitdoesn’tmatteradamntoanybody。Ilikeseeingthingsgoon——aswesawyouthatnightwhenyoudidn’tseeus——
　　Ilovethefreedomofit——it’slikebeingthewindorthesea。“
　　Sheturnedwithacuriousflingofherhandsandlookedatthesea。
　　Itwasstillveryblue，dancingawayasfarastheeyecouldreach，butthelightonitwasyellower，andthecloudswereturningflamingored。
　　AfeelingofintensedepressioncrossedHewet’smindasshespoke。
　　Itseemedplainthatshewouldnevercareforonepersonratherthananother；shewasevidentlyquiteindifferenttohim；theyseemedtocomeverynear，andthentheywereasfarapartaseveragain；
　　andhergestureassheturnedawayhadbeenoddlybeautiful。
　　“Nonsense，“hesaidabruptly。“Youlikepeople。Youlikeadmiration。
　　YourrealgrudgeagainstHirstisthathedoesn’tadmireyou。“
　　Shemadenoanswerforsometime。Thenshesaid:
　　“That’sprobablytrue。OfcourseIlikepeople——IlikealmosteveryoneI’veevermet。“
　　SheturnedherbackontheseaandregardedHewetwithfriendlyifcriticaleyes。Hewasgood-lookinginthesensethathehadalwayshadasufficiencyofbeeftoeatandfreshairtobreathe。
　　Hisheadwasbig；theeyeswerealsolarge；thoughgenerallyvaguetheycouldbeforcible；andthelipsweresensitive。
　　Onemightaccounthimamanofconsiderablepassionandfitfulenergy，likelytobeatthemercyofmoodswhichhadlittlerelationtofacts；
　　atoncetolerantandfastidious。Thebreadthofhisforeheadshowedcapacityforthought。TheinterestwithwhichRachellookedathimwasheardinhervoice。
　　“Whatnovelsdoyouwrite？“sheasked。
　　“IwanttowriteanovelaboutSilence，“hesaid；“thethingspeopledon’tsay。Butthedifficultyisimmense。“Hesighed。“However，youdon’tcare，“hecontinued。Helookedatheralmostseverely。
　　“Nobodycares。Allyoureadanovelforistoseewhatsortofpersonthewriteris，and，ifyouknowhim，whichofhisfriendshe’sputin。
　　Asforthenovelitself，thewholeconception，thewayone’sseenthething，feltaboutit，makeitstandinrelationtootherthings，notoneinamillioncaresforthat。AndyetIsometimeswonderwhetherthere’sanythingelseinthewholeworldworthdoing。
　　Theseotherpeople，“heindicatedthehotel，“arealwayswantingsomethingtheycan’tget。Butthere’sanextraordinarysatisfactioninwriting，evenintheattempttowrite。Whatyousaidjustnowistrue:onedoesn’twanttobethings；onewantsmerelytobeallowedtoseethem。“
　　Someofthesatisfactionofwhichhespokecameintohisfaceashegazedouttosea。