Euphra did not reply. Her silence seemed intended to express dissatisfaction; at least so Hugh interpreted it.
"I hope you do not think it is to indulge myself that I manage Master Harry in this peculiar fashion," he said. "The fact is, he is a very peculiar child, and may turn out a genius or a weakling, just as he is managed. At least so it appears to me at present. May Iask where you left the work you were doing with him?""He was going through the Eton grammar for the third time," answered Euphra, with a defiant glance, almost of dislike, at Hugh. "But Ineed not enumerate his studies, for I daresay you will not take them up at all after my fashion. I only assure you I have been a very exact disciplinarian. What he knows, I think you will find he knows thoroughly."So saying, Euphra rose, and with a flush on her cheek, walked out of the room in a more stately manner than usual.
Hugh felt that he had, somehow or other, offended her. But, to tell the truth, he did not much care, for her manner had rather irritated him. He retired to his own room, wrote to his mother, and, when Harry awoke, carried him again to the barn for an hour's work in the straw. Before it grew dusk, they had finished a little, silent, dark chamber, as round as they could make it, in the heart of the straw. All the excavated material they had thrown on the top, reserving only a little to close up the entrance when they pleased.
The next morning was still rainy; and when Hugh found Harry in the library as usual, he saw that the clouds had again gathered over the boy's spirit. He was pacing about the room in a very odd manner.
The carpet was divided diamond-wise in a regular pattern. Harry's steps were, for the most part, planted upon every third diamond, as he slowly crossed the floor in a variety of directions; for, as on previous occasions, he had not perceived the entrance of his tutor.
But, every now and then, the boy would make the most sudden and irregular change in his mode of progression, setting his foot on the most unexpected diamond, at one time the nearest to him, at another the farthest within his reach. When he looked up, and saw his tutor watching him, he neither started nor blushed: but, still retaining on his countenance the perplexed, anxious expression which Hugh had remarked, said to him:
"How can God know on which of those diamonds I am going to set my foot next?""If you could understand how God knows, Harry, then you would know yourself; but before you have made up your mind, you don't know which you will choose; and even then you only know on which you intend to set your foot; for you have often changed your mind after making it up."Harry looked as puzzled as before.
"Why, Harry, to understand how God understands, you would need to be as wise as he is; so it is no use trying. You see you can't quite understand me, though I have a real meaning in what I say.""Ah! I see it is no use; but I can't bear to be puzzled.""But you need not be puzzled; you have no business to be puzzled.
You are trying to get into your little brain what is far too grand and beautiful to get into it. Would you not think it very stupid to puzzle yourself how to put a hundred horses into a stable with twelve stalls?"Harry laughed, and looked relieved.
"It is more unreasonable a thousand times to try to understand such things. For my part, it would make me miserable to think that there was nothing but what I could understand. I should feel as if I had no room anywhere. Shall we go to our cave again?""Oh! yes, please," cried Harry; and in a moment he was on Hugh's back once more, cantering joyously to the barn.
After various improvements, including some enlargement of the interior, Hugh and Harry sat down together in the low yellow twilight of their cave, to enjoy the result of their labours. They could just see, by the light from the tunnel, the glimmer of the golden hollow all about them. The rain was falling heavily out-of-doors; and they could hear the sound of the multitudinous drops of the broken cataract of the heavens like the murmur of the insects in a summer wood. They knew that everything outside was rained upon, and was again raining on everything beneath it, while they were dry and warm.
"This is nice!" exclaimed Harry, after a few moments of silent enjoyment.
"This is your first lesson in architecture," said Hugh.
"Am I to learn architecture?" asked Harry, in a rueful tone.
"It is well to know how things came to be done, if you should know nothing more about them, Harry. Men lived in the cellars first of all, and next on the ground floor; but they could get no further till they joined the two, and then they could build higher.""I don't quite understand you, sir."
"I did not mean you should, Harry."
"Then I don't mind, sir. But I thought architecture was building.""So it is; and this is one way of building. It is only making an outside by pulling out an inside, instead of making an inside by setting up an outside."Harry thought for a while, and then said joyfully:
"I see it, sir! I see it. The inside is the chief thing--not the outside.""Yes, Harry; and not in architecture only. Never forget that."They lay for some time in silence, listening to the rain. At length Harry spoke:
"I have been thinking of what you told me yesterday, Mr. Sutherland, about the rain going to look for the seeds that were thirsty for it.
And now I feel just as if I were a seed, lying in its little hole in the earth, and hearing the rain-drops pattering down all about it, waiting--oh, so thirsty!--for some kind drop to find me out, and give me itself to drink. I wonder what kind of flower I should grow up," added he, laughing.
