A Record of Discords. A novel

Front matter

dfl^ROIiDS' 3/6 SERIES OF Popular Novels, Ey well-known authors. (Crown 8vo, Cloth.) Uniform with "A Record os Discords" i. LOUIS DRAYCOTT. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 2nd Edition. 3. GEOFFREY STIRLING. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 5th Edition. 3. BONNIE KATE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 2nd Edition. 4. A NEW OTHELLO. By Hon. Iza Duffus Hardv. 2nd Ed. 5. THE MAID OF LONDON BRIDGE. By Somerville GlBNEY. 6. EVELINE WELLWOOD. By Major Norris Paul. 7. OLD LATTIMER'S LEGACY. By J. S. Fletcher. 8. THAT LITTLE GIRL. By Curtis Yorke. 4th Edition. 9. DUDLEY. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 10. THE WILD RUTHVENS. By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 11. THE BROWN PORTMANTEAU, and other Stories.. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 12. HUSH! By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 13. ONCE! By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 14. A ROMANCE OF MODERN LONDON.

By Curtis Yorke. 3rd Edition. 15. HIS HEART TO WIN. By Curtis Yorke. 2nd Edition. 16. DARRELL CHEVASNEY. By Curtis Yorke. 17. BETWEEN THE SILENCES, and other Stories. By Curtis Yorke. 18. THE PEYTON ROMANCE. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 2nd Edition. [Shortly 19. THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. By Scott Graham. [Shortly' 20. A RECORD OF DISCORDS. By Curtis Yorke. 21. "CHERRY RIPE!" By Helen Mathers. 22. STORY OF A SIN. By Helen Mathers. 23. EYRE'S ACQUITTAL. (Sequel.) By Helen Mathers. 24. JOCK O' HAZELGREEN. By Helen Mathers. 25. MY LADY GREENSLEEVES. By Helen Mathers. 26. FOUND OUT. By Helen Mathers. [Shortly 27. PHŒBE DEACON. By W. Lionel Green. [Shortly 28. GILDAS HAVEN. Mrs. Haycraft. [Shortly. OTHERS IN PREPARATION. LONDON: JARROLD &• SONS, 10 and 11, Warwick Lane Jl "glooeC BY CURTIS YORKE Author of '" Hush!"

"Once!" "A Romance of Modern London, "Between the Silences," etc., etc., etc. "The earth is a host who murders all his guests" From the Persian LONDON JARROLD AND SONS, 10 & ii, WARWICK LA.NE, E.C. [All Rights Reserved] CONTENTS.

Part I. Chapter Fage

I. From His Point of View ... ... 7 II. From Her Point of View ... 15 III. His Little Green-eyed Friend ... 27 IV. "Why Not?" ... ... ... 38 V. "The Man Downstairs" ... ... 50 VI. "Things that Were" ... ... 60 VII. "He is my Friend" ... ... 69 VIII. "The Constant Dropping of Water" 77 IX. "One of these Little Ones!" ... 87 X. His Soul and Hers ... ... 97 XI. "Well?" ... ... ... .. 108 XII. A Note of Interrogation ... 116 XIII. Child — or Devil? ... ... ... 122 XIV. Discords! ... ... ... 129 XV. Broken Strings ... ... ... CONTENTS. CHAPTER FACS XVI. Why?— Why?— ... ... 146 XVII. Questionings ... ... ... 153 XVIII. "Have I any Cause?" ... 157 XIX. Babette ... ... ... ... 167 XX. Honour ... ... ... 17S XXI. His Katrine ... ... ... 179

Part II. XXII

The Unforeseen ... ... ... 193 XXIII. The Inevitable ... ... 202 XXIV. Ruth ... ... ... ... 211 XXV. What Might Not Be ... ... 221 XXVI. "If the Day ever Comes — ?" ... 234 XXVII. The-Will-o'-the-Wisp of Fame ... 250 XXVIII. "You did not Care" ... ... 255 XXIX. Threads ... ... ... 261 XXX. A Lie? ... ... ... ... 270 XXXI. A Veil of Sable ... ... 276 XXXII. The End of all Things ... ... }3art h

Chapter I. From His Point Of View

" And the gods, my friend— are just ? " "We will suppose they are." TT E had taken a day up die river, and it was noon. The thermometer was somewhere about eighty in the shade, and the river was placid and smiling. Wyndham exhibited neither of those two latter, conditions, however. For he was worried, and his expression and bearing showed it strongly. To the mind unmusical it was a com paratively small worry. Only an elusive twining harmony — a yet unborn melody — dimly fashioned in his brain during the night, haunting him, whispering and murmuring in his ear, climbing round his heart, but coyly refusing to be caged and governed by ordi nary musical laws. Wyndham was dually betrothed to music — music as a science, and music as an ideal — and wore his soul out and ran his nerves to pieces in the attempt to reconcile them the one to the other, and lead them both in the way he would have them go.

If he gave no outward evidence of the failings incidental to the musical temperament, some credit is due to him, for the roots were surely there. He had been rowing for a considerable time without consciously exerting himself. Now he became aware that he was tired, and too warm for comfort. So he tied up FROM HIS POINT OF VIEW. 9 his boat under a sufficiently sheltering tree, and having arranged himself on his back, with his arms folded beneath his head and a cigarette between his lips, he stalked the above-mentioned melody stealthily — all but caught it — grappled with it — lost it — and finally sent it to perdition in profane despair. For perhaps a quarter of an hour he smoked and lay still, staring at the twinklets of blue sky that gleamed through the leaves above him. While so engaged he fell asleep.

He slept long enough to compose a glorious opera, wherein the recreant melody wandered fitfully, having been caught, made love to, and half-tamed. (It would never be quite tamed, he heard someone in the stalls say — in its untameableness lay its charm.) As he rose to bow in haughty acknowledgment of the tumultuous homage that rang from floor to ceiling of the packed house — he awoke. At first he was not by any means sure that he was awake. He had certainly fastened his boat with the deft security of long prac tice. And yet the banks appeared to be sliding past in a way altogether too realistic to suggest dreaming. When he had thoroughly opened his eyes he became aware that a young woman was seated within his line of vision, that she was rowing strongly if somewhat irregularly, and that she appeared utterly oblivious of his presence.

He slowly raised himself to a sitting posi tion, and regarded her steadfastly. He felt he should be exceedingly angry in a minute or two, but just now he was hardly wide awake enough for the exertion. But as it dawned upon him that his self possessed companion intended to continue taking no notice of him — to such an extent, indeed, that when a low-hanging branch FROM HIS POINT OF VIEW. 11 deprived him of his comfortable straw hat, she did not even make any pretence of stopping to recover it — then he felt that some action was not only desirable, but imperative. " I beg your pardon, madam," he said in a cold cutting tone that ought to have abashed the person addressed, but which clearly did not — " I beg your pardon, but may I ask where you are going ? " He was wide awake now, and feeling ex tremely indignant.

The girl looked at him. She seemed out of breath, for she was putting the little boat along at a rate its dreamy owner rarely indulged in. " It's all right," she murmured. " It's all right. I'm not going — much further." Her voice was low and monotonous, and held a curious purring under-note. She looked about seventeen or eighteen, and might have been called pretty, had Wyndham been in any mood to appreciate her looks. It seemed to him, however, that her manner and appearance generally expressed covert insolence. "Pardon me, it is not all right," he returned in stern and growing displeasure. For he now observed that he had been conveyed as far up the river as Hurley, and his watch informed him that it was nearly six o'clock. His displeasure was further augmented by the flashing recollec tion that he had a dinner engagement for eight o'clock — an engagement which, for pro fessional reasons, it would be most impolitic to break — and that he certainly could not get home in time to dress and arrive at his destination at anything near the specified hour.

" Are you aware that you have taken a very great liberty ? " he went on in a voice he kept for special occasions — "and that you FROM HIS POINT OF VIEW. 13 have been the cause of my missing a most important appointment?" " You vvere — asleep," was the disjointed answer. " You would very likely — have mis sed it — at any rate. And I must be at Hurley by six." Wyndham breathed rather hard "With that I have nothing to do," he began. But she interrupted him " Don't talk to me, please. It takes away — my breath — to answer." For one minute the young man was speech less. Then he said with exaggerated calm, " This is beyond a joke. I must insist — ' But upon what he was going to insist was never known. For just then, with a skilful stroke of her right oar, his companion ran the boat alongside a tiny landing-place, jumped out, and set off at a brisk run in the direc tion of a cottage half-hidden by trees.

Wyndham, somewhat white about the mouth, and with a not altogether nice look in his eyes, picked up one oar, fished for the other, and rowed hatless away. His commentary is not worth recording.

Chapter II. From Her Point Of View

" Hence we have discovered, apparently, that the mass es notions current among the mass of men, about beauty, justice, and the rest, roam about between the confines of pure existence, and pure non-existence." " A H, Wyndham, just caught sight of you. How are you ? Allow me to introduce you to Miss Delahaye." "How do you do?" said Wyndham in a polite but somewhat forbidding tone, when the introduction had been performed. Miss Delahaye was looking up at him with a curious imp-like glint in her green eyes. He was looking down at her with distinct disapprobation in his. As the man who had made them known to each other moved away the girl laughed soundlessly. "Why — I had forgotten you!" she said. " Had you ? " he returned briefly. "Yes. Absolutely forgotten you. Had you forgotten me ? " " No, Miss Delahaye.

I had good reason to remember you." " Ah ! That's very pretty of you." As she spoke she smiled slowly. The extreme whiteness of her teeth against the vivid red of her lips, gave a cruel, almost sinister look to her small face. Wyndham bowed in silence, and removed all trace of expression from his features. " Did you miss your appointment that day ? " she asked. "Yes." "And did it matter — much?" He twisted his moustache without speaking. "Well — I'm sorry," observed Miss Delahaye reflectively, after a pause. FROM HER POINT OF VIEW. 17 A sarcastic shadow of a smile curved her companion's lips. " It was curious, our meeting in that way," she went on. " I had heard of you so often, and — though I don't like your music at all — I rather wanted to meet you." " Yes ? " he said gravely and interrogatively.

" You're not quite so interesting as I thought you would be," she continued, closing her eyes slowly and opening them again. " I hope you'll forgive my frankness. I suppose it's rather a brutal thing to say. Are you very angry ? " " Not at all," he answered in an extremely below zero tone. "It was very kind of you to think of me at all." "You don't like me!" she said, after sub jecting him to a steady inspection for a few silent seconds. " But I rather like you. I think you have — possibilities." " I am extremely obliged to you, Miss 1; Delahaye. Will you pardon me if I bring our conversation to a close ? I fear I must go now. Her eyes twinkled greenly, " Did you find your hat that day ? " she asked. But Wyndham had moved out of her radius. He was stopped near the door by his one and only chum, Colin Graeme.

"Who's the tiny green-eyed sprite in the fluffy white gown, Wyndham ? Reminds me of someone I've seen before. She seemed bent on fascinating you. Evidently she didn't succeed." "Have you had enough of this?" said Wyndham abruptly. " Because, if you have, let's go." Graeme laughed, and they passed through the hall into the street. " I'll be hanged if I. know what makes FROM HER POINT OF VIE W. 19 me go fooling around to women's afternoon crushes," observed Wyndham, as he lit a cigarette. " One meets an awfully mixed lot." " So you do everywhere, nowadays," Graeme answered languidly. "What does it matter? You have rather a blue fit on, haven't you ? Little green-eyed person been giving you a snubbing ? " Wyndham jerked off his pince-nez with a short laugh. "Well, hardly. I fancy any snubbing that was going came from me."

" I like your calm cheek," said the other. " One of these days you'll come an awful cropper, my boy — if only to avenge your present snuff-the-moon treatment of such of the fair sex as don't chance to pass your standard. It's only to be equalled by your quixotic devotion to those who do." "Oh, don't be an ass, Craeme," returned the other impatiently. "Which way are you going? West? Well, I'm going east. See you to-morrow." He hailed a passing omnibus — his finances ran not to hansoms — and got inside, for it had begun to rain. A minute or two later the omnibus stopped again, and to Wyndham's annoyance, Miss Delahaye jumped in, and took a vacant seat next him. " We seem fated to meet," she said in hcr contented purring undertone. " Now, this is very nice, because you can see me into my train.

I'm going to Baker Street station. I do so hate being at any of these stations on the Underground without a man. People stare so." , " Do they stare less when you are accom panied by a man ? " inquired Wyndham, without any exaggerated appearance of interest. She wrinkled up her face in a spasm of unheard laughter. O FROM HER POINT OF VIEW. 21 " Mrs. Keene gives nice afternoons, doesn't she ? " she said irrelevantly. " I've never seen you there before, have I ? " " I have never been there before," he answered, noting with gratification that they were approaching Orchard Street. " Ah. I suppose you don't go out much. I have heard you spoken of as the musical monk. I daresay you despise afternoon parties. Oh, I get out here." She stood upon the step. "Aren't you coming?" she said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

With a mental shrug, he obeyed. He could hardly do less. "Will you carry this book for me?" she said, when she had reached the pavement. " I borrowed it from Mrs. Keene, and I hate carrying anything. Ah, your face says so distinctly, — 'Why did you borrow it, then?' But, you see, I knew somebody would carry it for me. I haven't the slightest intention of reading it, of course. It's about psychical development, I believe, and I don't know any thing about either psychics — is that the word ? — or development. But I shall just skim over the headings of the chapters, because everyone is talking about it. It's so kind of you to offer to see me into the train," she added inconsequently. " I hope I'm not taking you out of your way. I want to have a little talk with you, to tell you how I came to take possession of you and your boat so unceremoniously that time.

You see, Mrs. Daneford — the lady to whom I am private secretary — had taken a cottage at Hurley for a week or two, and on that day I had gone on the river with her nephew. He's very funny to look at, but he's rather amusing to talk to. He — he offended me by something he said, so I made him put me ashore. Of course I thought he would come back ; but FROM HER POINT OF VIEW. 23 he didn't. So there I was, ever so far from Hurley, and dinner-time rapidly approaching. And Mrs. Daneford is so frightfully punctual, she wouldn't have dreamed of waiting for me. So I should have had to go hungry to bed. Oh, it's beginning to rain quite heavily. Will you please put up your umbrella, Mr. Wynd ham ? Oh, it is up. Thanks. I didn't notice. Hold it straight over my hat, please. It is a new one, and I should hate to have it limped by the damp.

Well, as I was saying, I was almost in despair — when I saw your boat So I jumped in, unfastened it, and pushed off. I thought as you were asleep, it wouldn't matter much. Oh, I am afraid you are getting rather wet. So provoking, the rain coming on in this way. Where do you live, Mr. Wyndham? Chelsea? I like Chelsea. Interesting people seem to grow there. Didn't somebody called Carlyle write famous pla) s there, or books, or something ? By the way, someone told me that you had written a book. Have you ? " "No, Miss Delahaye, I have never written a book." " Ah. Very sensible of you. I can't bear authors, or singers, or actors, or that class of people. They're so eccentric, and so snubby. But they're interesting, in a way. And, as Mrs. Daneford says, one has to know them. Do you know many people in London ?

" "Yes — I have a comparatively large circle of acquaintances," he answered with cold civility, for he was getting exceedingly wet, and the rain was dripping from the brim of his hat. " Ah, I haven't," she said nonchalantly. " Of course I know a few people ; but I haven't been in London very long, and Mrs. Daneford is rather queer and exclusive. However, as she pays me a very good salary, FROM HER POINT OF VIEW. 25 I mustn't complain. I'm sorry I can't ask you to come to see me, but Mrs. Daneford doesn't approve of young men. But 1 daresay we shall meet again soon. Will you take my ticket ? Thank you. Oh. how wet you are ! Good-bye until we meet again." Wyndham retraced his steps to the music shop in Bond Street whither he had been originally bound, and from thence got home to his cosy little flat in Chelsea in a particularly bad temper.

For he was wet through, and his hat, which was a new one, was consider ably altered for the worse. His state o_ mind was not improved by finding an impor tant telegram in the letter-box, which ought to have had an immediate reply, and which it was now futile to answer at all. So he swore heartily, pitched a returned manuscript to the other end of the room, got into an old suit of clothes, and lit his pipe. As the evening wore on, he found himself musing irritably on the green-eyed girl. It was curious that she should twice have indirectly come between him and some possible good fortune. For that telegram had meant *-> -__ a good deal to him. He was conscious of a superstitious dread of their next interview. He was out of sorts that night, and could not sleep. So he got up, flung on his dressing-gown, and tore Wagnerian discords out of his long-suffering piano — uiv.il his neighbours rose up and called him accursed, and evoked painful maledictions on his name.

Chapter III. His Little Green-eyed Friend

" Then tell me, do you look upon opinion as some thing more dusky than knowledge, more luminious than ignorance ? " "TF you ever marry, Wyndham, your wife will have an awful time of it." " I don't intend to marry. Heaven forbid. But why this extensive commiseration for my wife in es se ? " Graeme blew a ring of smoke to the ceiling and smiled sweetly. " I hope I may live to see it," he said in a voice of dreamy calm. " Poor little wife to-be, I pity her." " She wouldn't be little," answered Wynd ham, tilting his chair slightly backwards. " Little women are shrews — expressed or suppressed — and a shrew would drive me mad." " Madder," murmured Graeme. " If I had a wife— a wife I cared about — I daresay I should be very fond of her," said the other with a slow smile, as he stretched himself out in his chair.

" I don't think she would be an object of pity." "Oh, you'd be mightily fond of her, no doubt, when you remembered you had a wife at all. But half the time you'd be in the clouds, and as likely as not ignore her very existence." " Let us hope she would be capable of accompanying me to the clouds occasionally." "Ah, that is not likely. Angels doff their wings when they become wives — in this world, anyway." Graeme's voice had grown bitter. His own experience of marriage had been merci fully brief, but it had held rather more humiliation and suffering than come to most men in a life-time. He was not in the habit ot referring to it. As a rule men don't speak much of troubles such as his. Presently he said in his u^ual tranquil tones, " I saw your little green-eyed friend yesterday." " And who might my little green-eyed friend be ?

" " Miss Delahaye. It has struck me, do you know, that she isn't half bad-looking." "Think so? I don't admire that style." " No ? She is rather an uncommon type. You see her often, I suppose ? " " I see her occasionally.' " She spoke of you as if she saw you pretty frequently." " My dear fellow, I don't take enough interest in Miss Delahaye to count the half hours I may have passed in her company. Perhaps my ' occasionally ' may be her ' frequently.' I have seen her about half-a-dozen times since the day I first made her acquaint ance. And I can't say I have been impressed. Rather the reverse." Graeme threw back his head and laughed softly and lazily. "She hasn't hit your lordly fancy, then?" "Has she hit yours?" asked Wyndham shortly. Graeme paused before he answered. Then he said in an absent voice, "Women are not in my line.

And even if they were, I have a particular objection to eves that are green. But I've an idea, do you know, that she is rather interested in you." " That's awfully kind of her," said the other with a distinct sneer. " Her interest isn't of the complimentary sort — that much I know from her own lips. And it's warmly reciprocated — of its kind. For Heaven's sake let us talk of something else." " Dear old man — what a hedgehog it is ! o o observed Graeme affectionately. Wyndham moved uneasily in his chair. " I have a curious superstitious feeling about that girl," he said after a minute. " Every piece of bad luck I have had lately has been preceded by a meeting with her." " Don't meet her again then, my clear fellow. That's simple enough." "Do you suppose I make appointments with the woman?" returned Wyndham im patiently.

" I don't want to meet her. But she's always cropping up at the most unexpected times and places. She gets on my nerves. I believe she's my evil genius. "Oh, stuff!" observed Graeme. "You are your own evil genius— it you've got one. If you are not worn to fiddlestrings before you're forty, it won't be for want of trying your level best. Look here, old chap — you're not going to let another woman play the deuce with you, are you ? " "Am I given to letting women play the deuce with me ? " inquired the other stiffly. "Oh, you needn't do the high and mighty with me," said Graeme with a careless shrug. " I don't care two straws whether you flare up or not. You know very well that you are just as impressionable as they make them, and that ■ However, so long as you don't supply the material for an inquest, I shall hold my tongue."

" What a heartless beast you are," returned Wyndham, laughing somewhat nervously. " Sometimes I feel uncommonly like supplying the material for an inquest, I can tell you." " Oh yes, we all do occasionally — during our bad little quarters of hours. But they pass. Talking of passing— just pass the matches, will you ? Thanks. As for the little Delahaye — we'll bury her. She is pretty, though, in a subtle diabolical fashion essentially beautd. de diable. Ah, I have it ! I couldn't think whom she reminded me of. I once saw a creepy but seductive picture in a small gallery in Brussels, called 'A Vampire.' The eyes, and skin, and lips, and hair, as I remember them, all suggest our little friend. I should have liked to buy that picture," he added meditatively. "Vampires always had a fascination for me.

I read a queer story once of a man who married a vampire, and — had rather an unpleasant time of it." " Poor beggar ! " said Wyndham with a slight shiver. "A vampire as the possible mother of one's children is not a pretty fancy." " No — this wasn't a pretty story," returned c the other languidly. " In Let it was a beastly story— and on second thoughts, I'll keep it. However, the moral is — don't marry a vampire. The accentuated moral is — don't marry at all. The chief end of man is to get the maximum of pleasure at the minimum of exertion and cost. If a fellow marries he is apt to get the inverse ratio." "List! oh list!" put in Wyndham, "to the gospel according to St. Graeme." Then after a listening pause he added, "As I live, that fellow downstairs is having another smoking concert." "Well?

Suppose he is? It won't hurt you, will it ? " "Oh it drives me wild," was the irritable answer. " It'll go on all night, and make work impossible." Graeme crossed one leg lightly over the other. "You are morbid on the subject of perfect quiet," he said. " You remind me of a man I once knew, who was so antagonistic to sounds of most kinds, that when he went to an hotel he always engaged three bed rooms instead of one." " I don't see it," mut.ered Wyndham crossly, for the strains of a rollicking chorus were ascending vigorously from below. "Well, he slept in the middle one, you know— -surrounded by silence. It was expen sive — but select." Wyndham laughed heartily, with a sudden change from gloom to gaiety that was charac teristic of him. " That's not a bad idea ! " he exclaimed, as gleefully as a boy.

"By Jove! when I can afford it, I'll take the house above and the house below. I must make a note of that" Graeme turned and looked at him with a curious softening of his keen soldierly face. A RLCORD OF DISCORDS. 36 It was rather a good face, well-balanced as to features, and with a certain brownness of skin acquired by a sojourn in lands where the sun is less chary of his beams than in smoke enveloped London. " Upon my soul, Wyndham," he said slowly — " you're the queerest fellow I know. When you're not a howling pessimist, you're a wild Indian athirst for b1ooL And when you're neither, you're an utter boy." Wyndham rose and propped his shoulders against the mantelpiece. " And when you're not a very decent old chap," he answered yawning, "you're an awful ass — as just now, for instance. Now, you get out, for I've a lot of work to do to-night."

Graeme looked at his watch. "Halt-past nine," he said. "I must get home and dress. I'm going to a dance at the Neville's." At the door he paused and looked over his shoulder. "It I see the green-eye J girl, shall I — er ?" Wyndham turned his back, and sat down at the piano.

Chapter IV

" WHY NOT ? " " For no one could miss the way, if there were but one path. But this road must have many branches and many windings." IV /[ANY days had whirled into space. It was more tolerable incloars than out on this December night. Snow and sleet and a bitterly robust north wind, were having a real good time, and making things exceso ' £_>__> sively unpleasant for luckless pedestrians. The wind was shaking the loosely-hung casement in Wyndham's sitting-room with violent persistence. It annoyed him and dis tracted his thoughts, and provoked him to profanity. Twice he had temporarily .silenced " WHY NOT?" 39 and steadied the crazy thing — once with a button-hook, once with a pair of nail-scissors. Now he made a triumphant and permanent success with a paper-knife. He was in fine working trim to-night.

And he was conscious of a curious underlying wave of excitement that gave impetus to his endeavour and yet was quite distinct from it. There was a certain undefined sense of expectancy in this excitement ; so much so that his heart leapt uncomfortably to his throat at the sharp rat-tat of the late postman. There were no letters, however. Only a circular, and a returned manuscript. This last he anathematized briefly, then sat down to his work again. A couple of hours flew by unnoticed. His ideas were working up grandly. " This will be the best thing I have done," he muttered, as he flung yet another freshly covered music-sheet on the top of the already DISCORDS. 40 formidable heap on the big easy-chair, and rose to light a fresh cigarette over the lamp's chimney. The strong glare lit up his face, and brought into bold relief all that was good and bad there.