



Produced by Al Haines.




[Illustration: Cover]




                              THESE TWAIN


                                   BY

                             ARNOLD BENNETT

            AUTHOR OF "THE OLD WIVES' TALE," "THE OLD ADAM,"
                  "CLAYHANGER," "HILDA LESSWAYS," ETC.



                                NEW YORK
                        GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY




                            Copyright, 1915,
                           BY ARNOLD BENNETT




                                CONTENTS


                                 BOOK I

                         THE WOMAN IN THE HOUSE

CHAPTER

      I. THE HOUSE
     II. HILDA ON THE STAIRS
    III. ATTACK AND REPULSE
     IV. THE WORD
      V. TERTIUS INGPEN
     VI. HUSBAND AND WIFE
    VII. THE TRUCE
   VIII. THE FAMILY AT HOME
     IX. THE WEEK-END
      X. THE ORGREAVE CALAMITY


                                BOOK II

                                THE PAST

     XI. LITHOGRAPHY
    XII. DARTMOOR
   XIII. THE DEPARTURE
    XIV. TAVY MANSION
     XV. THE PRISON
    XVI. THE GHOST


                                BOOK III

                              EQUILIBRIUM

   XVII. GEORGE'S EYES
  XVIII. AUNTIE HAMPS SENTENCED
    XIX. DEATH AND BURIAL
     XX. THE DISCOVERY




                                 BOOK I

                         THE WOMAN IN THE HOUSE



                              THESE TWAIN



                               CHAPTER I

                               THE HOUSE


                                   I


In the year 1892 Bleakridge, residential suburb of Bursley, was still
most plainly divided into old and new,--that is to say, into the dull
red or dull yellow with stone facings, and the bright red with terra
cotta gimcrackery.  Like incompatible liquids congealed in a pot, the
two components had run into each other and mingled, but never mixed.

Paramount among the old was the house of the Member of Parliament, near
the top of the important mound that separates Hanbridge from Bursley.
The aged and widowed Member used the house little, but he kept it up,
and sometimes came into it with an unexpectedness that extremely
flattered the suburb.  Thus you might be reading in the morning paper
that the Member had given a lunch in London on the previous day to
Cabinet Ministers and ladies as splendid as the Countess of Chell,
and--glancing out of the window--you might see the Member himself
walking down Trafalgar Road, sad, fragile, sedately alert, with his
hands behind him, or waving a gracious hand to an acquaintance.
Whereupon you would announce, not apathetically: "Member's gone down to
MacIlvaine's!" (MacIlvaine's being the works in which the Member had an
interest) and there would perhaps be a rush to the window.  Those were
the last great days of Bleakridge.

After the Member's house ranked such historic residences as those of
Osmond Orgreave, the architect, (which had the largest, greenest garden
and the best smoke-defying trees in Bleakridge), and Fearns, the
Hanbridge lawyer; together with Manor "Cottage" (so-called, though a
spacious house), where lived the mechanical genius who had
revolutionised the pottery industry and strangely enough made a fortune
thereby, and the dark abode of the High Church parson.

Next in importance came the three terraces,--Manor Terrace, Abbey
Terrace, and the Sneyd Terrace--each consisting of three or four houses,
and all on the west side of Trafalgar Road, with long back-gardens and a
distant prospect of Hillport therefrom over the Manor fields.  The
Terraces, considered as architecture, were unbeautiful, old-fashioned,
inconvenient,--perhaps paltry, as may be judged from the fact that rents
ran as low as L25 a year; but they had been wondrous in their day, the
pride of builders and owners and the marvel of a barbaric populace.
They too had histories, which many people knew.  Age had softened them
and sanctioned their dignity.  A gate might creak, but the harsh curves
of its ironwork had been mollified by time.  Moreover the property was
always maintained in excellent repair by its landlords, and residents
cared passionately for the appearance of the windows and the
front-steps.  The plenary respectability of the residents could not be
impugned.  They were as good as the best.  For address, they would not
give the number of the house in Trafalgar Road, but the name of its
Terrace.  Just as