Clara and her father were both chess-players, and at the time at

which our history begins, Clara had been teaching Madge the game for

about six months.

'Check!' said Clara.

'Check! after about a dozen moves. It is of no use to go on; you

always beat me. I should not mind that if I were any better now than

when I started. It is not in me.'

'The reason is that you do not look two moves ahead. You never say

to yourself, "Suppose I move there, what is she likely to do, and

what can I do afterwards?"'

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'That is just what is impossible to me. I cannot hold myself down;

the moment I go beyond the next move my thoughts fly away, and I am

in a muddle, and my head turns round. I was not born for it. I can

do what is under my nose well enough, but nothing more.'

'The planning and the forecasting are the soul of the game. I should

like to be a general, and play against armies and calculate the

consequences of manoeuvres.'

'It would kill me. I should prefer the fighting. Besides,

calculation is useless, for when I think that you will be sure to

move such and such a piece, you generally do not.'

'Then what makes the difference between the good and the bad player?'

'It is a gift, an instinct, I suppose.'

'Which is as much as to say that you give it up. You are very fond

of that word instinct; I wish you would not use it.'

'I have heard you use it, and say you instinctively like this person

or that.'

'Certainly; I do not deny that sometimes I am drawn to a person or

repelled from him before I can say why; but I always force myself to

discover afterwards the cause of my attraction or repulsion, and I

believe it is a duty to do so. If we neglect it we are little better

than the brutes, and may grossly deceive ourselves.'

At this moment the sound of wheels was heard, and Madge jumped up,

nearly over-setting the board, and rushed into the front room. It

was the four-horse coach from London, which, once a day, passed

through Fenmarket on its road to Lincoln. It was not the direct

route from London to Lincoln, but the Defiance went this way to

accommodate Fenmarket and other small towns. It slackened speed in

order to change horses at the 'Crown and Sceptre,' and as Madge stood

at the window, a gentleman on the box-seat looked at her intently as

he passed. In another minute he had descended, and was welcomed by

the landlord, who stood on the pavement. Clara meanwhile had taken

up a book, but before she had read a page, her sister skipped into

the parlour again, humming a tune.




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