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GRAVITATIONAL WAVES
Gravitational Waves

Volume 2
Astrophysics and Cosmology

Michele Maggiore
Département de Physique Théorique
Université de Genève

3
3
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP,
United Kingdom
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of
Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries
© Michele Maggiore 2018
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First Edition published in 2018
Impression: 1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics
rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above
You must not circulate this work in any other form
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Data available
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017943894
Set ISBN 978–0–19–875528–9
Volume 1 978–0–19–857074–5
Volume 2 978–0–19–857089–9
only available as part of a set
DOI 10.1093/oso/9780198570899.001
Printed and bound by
CPI Litho (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and
for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials
contained in any third party website referenced in this work.
Preface to Volume 2

In the preface to Vol. 1 we wrote: “The physics of gravitational waves

is in a very special period. [...] As a result of these experimental ef-
forts, there are good reasons to hope that the next decade will witness
the direct detection of gravitational waves and the opening of the field of
gravitational-wave astronomy and, possibly, cosmology.” The writing of
Vol. 2 took 10 more years, and during that time these hopes have indeed
been fulfilled. The first direct detection of gravitational waves (GWs)
took place in September 2015, when the two detectors of the LIGO
Observatory, at the very beginning of the first science run of advanced
LIGO, observed the signal from a coalescing black-hole binary. The re-
sult was announced by the LIGO and Virgo collaborations in February
2016. For this discovery Reiner Weiss, Barry Barish and Kip Thorne
were awarded the 2017 Nobel Prize for Physics “for decisive contribu-
tions to the LIGO detector and the observation of gravitational waves”.
Several more binary black-hole coalescences have now been observed, in-
cluding a triple coincidence between the two LIGO interferometers and
the Virgo interferometer. Furthermore, in August 2017, the GWs from
the coalescence of a neutron star binary were observed by LIGO and
Virgo, in coincidence with a γ-ray burst detected by Fermi-GBM and
by INTEGRAL. The electromagnetic counterpart was then identified
and observed by several telescopes in all bands of the electromagnetic
spectrum. Thus, the GW window has been opened, and we are starting
to look through it. With the planned improvements in the sensitivi-
ties of ground-based interferometers, we expect that GWs from astro-
physical sources will soon be observed routinely while, in the near and
mid-term future, we expect that several other detectors, such as pul-
sar timing arrays, the planned LISA space interferometer, and possibly
third-generation ground-based detectors such as the Einstein Telescope,
will explore the Universe up to cosmological distances. Thus, we are
indeed in a very exciting period for GW astrophysics and cosmology.

The first volume of this book dealt with the theory of GWs, in Part I,
and with experiments, in Part II. This second volume is devoted to
what we can learn from GWs, in astrophysics (Part III) and in cosmol-
ogy (Part IV). Our main aim has been to systematize a large body of
theoretical and observational developments that have taken place in GW
physics over the last few decades. Even though we expect the field to
evolve rapidly, thanks to new experimental discoveries as well as to the-
oretical advances, we believe that most of these methods will still form
the backbone of our understanding for many years to come, and will be
xiv

the basis for future developments. As with Vol. 1, we have typically tried
to rederive afresh all theoretical results, trying to give a coherent and
consistent picture of the field, and clarifying or streamlining the existing
derivations whenever possible. An Errrata web page will be maintained
at http://theory.physics.unige.ch/˜maggiore/home.html

Various people have read and commented on the drafts of some chap-
ters. I am particularly grateful to Alessandra Buonanno, Emanuele
Berti, Thibault Damour, Ruth Durrer, Valeria Ferrari, Stefano Foffa,
Kostas Kokkotas, Michael Kramer, Martin Kunz, Georges Meynet, An-
drea Passamonti, Eric Poisson, Luciano Rezzolla, Alberto Sesana and
Riccardo Sturani, for their careful reading of selected chapters, and to
Camille Bonvin, Daniela Doneva, Alex Kehagias and Vittorio Tansella
for useful comments.
I also wish to thank Sonke Adlung, Harriet Konishi and the staff of
Oxford University Press for their competent and friendly help, and Mac
Clarke for the careful and competent copyediting.

Geneva, December 2017

Stellar collapse
10
We begin our study of astrophysical sources of gravitational waves (GWs)
10.1 Historical Supernovae 4
with a chapter devoted to stellar collapse. From the point of view of GW
physics, this is interesting for at least two different reasons. First, stel- 10.2 Properties of Supernovae 10
lar collapse through supernova explosion is itself a potentially interesting 10.3 The dynamics of core
collapse 21
source of GW production. Second, stellar collapse can leave as remnant
10.4 GW production by
a compact object, such as a white dwarf (WD), a neutron star (NS) or self-gravitating fluids 35
a stellar-mass black hole (BH). As we will see in detail in later chapters, 10.5 GWs from stellar collapse 46
these compact objects are among the most interesting sources from the
10.6 Complements 66
point of view of GW astrophysics.
Supernovae (SNe) are among the most spectacular events in the Uni-
verse. As we will discuss in detail in this chapter, there are two very
different mechanisms leading to SN explosions: (1) The gravitational
collapse of the core of a star, once the nuclear fuel that feeds the ther-
monuclear reactions inside the core is exhausted. As we will see in Sec-
tion 10.2.1, depending on the properties of the progenitor, this leads to
events classified as type Ib, Ic or type II SNe, and leaves behind a com-
pact remnant, usually a neutron star (which is sometimes observable as a
pulsar) or possibly a black hole (BH).1 (2) The thermonuclear explosion 1
There are also other mechanisms that
of a white dwarf that accretes mass from a companion, going beyond its can trigger the explosion, as in electron-
capture SNe, as well as a more refined
Chandrasekhar limit. This gives rise to type Ia SNe. In this case the classification of SN type, as we will dis-
star that explodes is dispersed in space and its remnant is not a compact cuss in more detail later in the chapter.
object. A typical core-collapse SN can release an energy ∼ 1053 erg. Of It is also in principle possible that the
this energy, 99% is emitted in neutrinos, about 1% goes into kinetic en- collapse produces no visible SN event
and all the matter is swallowed by the
ergy of the ejected material, and less than 0.01%, i.e. about 1049 erg, is final BH.
released in photons. The corresponding peak luminosity in photons can
be of order a few times 109 L or higher. Thus, a typical core-collapse
SN at its peak has an optical luminosity that rivals the cumulative light
emitted by all the stars in its host galaxy. As we will see in detail in this
chapter, type Ia SNe have similar electromagnetic luminosities. Such
events, when they take place in our Galaxy (barring obscuration from
dust in the Galactic plane beyond a few kpc), can lead to truly impres-
sive optical displays that have been observed by mankind since ancient
times. A number of milestones in astronomy are associated with nearby
SN explosions. Tycho’s SN in 1572 and Kepler’s in 1604 marked a new
epoch in astronomy, while recent discoveries such as the pulsar in the
remnant of the 1054 Crab SN and the detection of neutrinos from the
1987A SN in the nearby Large Magellanic Cloud rank among the mile-
stones of modern astronomy. We therefore find it appropriate to begin
this chapter with an introduction to historical SNe.

Gravitational Waves, Volume 2: Astrophysics and Cosmology. Michele Maggiore.

c Michele Maggiore 2018. Published in 2018 by Oxford University Press.
DOI 10.1093/oso/9780198570899.001.0001
4 Stellar collapse

Table 10.1 Summary of the historical SNe, and the source of their records, adapted
from Green and Stephenson (2003). Remnants updated from Ferrand and Safi-Harb
(2012). (The identifier of the remnants, as for example in G120.1+01.4, refers to its
Galactic coordinates). We have classified SN 1604 as type Ia, following for example
Blair et al. (2007), Reynolds et al. (2007) and references therein. The nature of the
Crab SN (core collapse or electron capture) is debated; see the Further Reading.

Date Length of Remnant Classification Historical records

visibility Chinese Japanese Korean Arabic European

AD1604 (Kepler’s) 12 months G004.5+06.8 type Ia few – many – many

AD1572 (Tycho’s) 18 months G120.1+01.4 type Ia few – two – many
AD1181 6 months G130.7+03.1 ? – few few – – –
AD1054 (Crab) 21 months G184.6−05.8 debated many few – one –
AD1006 3 years G327.6+14.6 type Ia many many – few two
AD393 8 months G347.3−00.5 – one – – – –
AD386? 3 months G011.2−00.3 – one – – – –
AD369? 5 months – – one – – – –
AD185 8 or 20 months G315.4−02.3 type Ia ? one – – – –

10.1 Historical Supernovae

The reader eager to plunge into more
technical issues can simply skip this
section
2
Novae arise when a white dwarf (WD)
in a binary system accretes mass from
a companion at a rate of about 10−9 −
10−8 M /yr. The material accreted
is rich in hydrogen and accumulates
on the surface of the WD, where it
is compressed by further accretion and
heated. When a layer of about 10−5 −
10−4 M of hydrogen has been ac-
creted, a runaway thermonuclear reac-
tion takes place, releasing an energy of
order 1045 erg, which is therefore sev-
eral orders of magnitude smaller than in
SN explosions. The WD then gradually
cools down and goes back to its quies-
cent state, where the accretion process
can start again, leading to recurrent
nova explosions. A clear distinction be-
tween classical novae and supernovae
was first made by Baade and Zwicky
in 1934.
As we will see in Section 10.2.1, in a galaxy like ours the estimated rate
of SN explosions is of order of two per century. However, in the Galactic
plane the extinction of visible light significantly limits our view; for
instance, the extinction of visible light from the Galactic center is about
30 magnitudes. Thus, a Galactic SN visible to the naked eye is a very
rare event. However, when a nearby star becomes a SN, the effects are
quite spectacular. In the historical period, this has happened a handful
of times.
Evidence for the oldest SNe observed by mankind is based on his-
torical records. Since a Galactic SN remains visible for months, and
sometimes up to a few years, one can focus on historical records of stars
that suddenly appeared and remained visible for at least four months,
in order to eliminate most novae2 and the possibility of confusion with
comets (comets being eliminated also because of their evident proper
motion).
Table 10.1 gives a summary of SNe that have been seen by the naked
eye in historical times, and for which we have written records, in the
last 2000 years.
SN 185
The oldest recorded SN is SN 185, which was first observed on Decem-
ber 7, 185 at the imperial observatory of Lo-Yang, in central China.
The Chinese astronomers recorded its appearance and its gradual fad-
ing, providing the oldest plausible historical account of a SN. It finally
disappeared after either 8 or 20 months (depending on the interpre-
tation of a sentence in the record to mean “next year” or “year after
next”). The identification of the recorded position of the event with
 10.1 Historical Supernovae 5

the region between α and β Cen suggests that the remnant of SN 185
could be identified with the SN remnant RCW 86 (G315.4−02.3), at an
estimated distance of about 2.8 kpc. Recent observations with Chandra
and XMM-Newton have indeed strengthened the case for this identifica-
tion. The study of its X-ray synchrotron emission has in fact suggested
an estimate for the age of this remnant consistent with the explosion
date, within the uncertainties of the determination. The regular shape
of the remnant shell, together with the absence of a pulsar, would point
toward a type Ia SN, which is also suggested by the Chandra X-ray
observations.
Another possible remnant candidate has been proposed, G320.4−01.2
(RCW 89), which contains the pulsar PSR B1509-58, and therefore
would corresponds to a core-collapse SN. The timing measurement of
this pulsar are also consistent with the age of SN 185.

SN 1006

A number of other possible SNe were recorded before AD 1000; see

Table 10.1. However, the first event for which we have extensive histor-
ical records is a SN that exploded in AD 1006 in the direction of the
Lupis constellation, and was recorded in China, Japan, Europe, Egypt
and Iraq. It disappeared a first time from view after 17 months, and
remained occasionally visible at dawn for 3 years.
The identification of the likely remnant of this SN came in 1965, by
searching radio catalogues covering part of the region of sky suggested
by the historical records. The remnant is now identified with the radio
source PKS 1450-51 (whose Galactic coordinates are G327.4+14.6). Its
distance from us, as we now infer from the remnant, was about 2.2 kpc.
From the spectrum of the remnant it is believed that it was a type Ia
SN. Using the standard luminosity of type Ia SNe together with the
known distance to the remnant (and plausible assumptions about ab-
sorption) allows us to estimate that it reached an apparent visual mag-
nitude V ' −7.5.3 By comparison, the full Moon has a maximum appar- 3
The standard astronomical notions of
ent magnitude V ' −12.94, and the limiting brightness for an object to luminosity, magnitudes and color index
of stars are recalled in the Complement
be visible with the naked eye when the Sun is high is V ' −4, dropping Section 10.6.
to V ' −2.5 when the Sun is less than 10 degrees above the horizon.
Comparing with the visual magnitudes given in Table 10.5 on page 70,
we see that, at its maximum brightness, SN 1006 was by far the brightest
object in the night sky after the Moon, and easily visible during day-
time. The historical records confirm that it was indeed visible during
the day, and it was even bright enough to read at night by its light! The
most detailed reports by far are from Chinese astronomers, who deter-
mined the position of this “guest star” to good accuracy. Two accounts
of this SN appeared also in Europe, in chronicles of the monasteries of
St. Gallen, in Switzerland, and of Benevento, in Italy.
6 Stellar collapse
4
The subject is quite controversial
among historians of science. Some Eu-
ropean documents have been suggested
as referring to SN 1054, but look quite
imprecise, and overall the evidence that
they actually refer to the SN is not very
convincing. It has been suggested that
the lack of written documents was due
to censorship from the Church (given
that the chronicles of the epoch were
compiled in monasteries), possibly con-
nected with the fact that the SN ap-
peared just at the time of the East-
West Schism that gave rise to the sepa-
ration of the Church of the Roman Em-
pire into what later became the Roman
Catholic Church and the Eastern Or-
thodox Church. In fact, the date of
the excommunication of the Patriarch
of Constantinople Michael I Cerularius
is July 16, 1054. The usually accepted
date for the appearance of the SN is
July 4, so by July 16 it was just near
its maximum luminosity.
There have also been suggestions that
this SN is depicted, together with the
Moon, in cave paintings from native
americans in Arizona. It has been pro-
posed that the paintings represents a
conjunction between the Moon and the
SN, made possible by the fact that soon
after it appeared, on July 5, the SN
as seen from Earth was indeed on the
plane of the ecliptic and in a direction
close to that of the Moon. However,
the dating of the paintings is quite im-
precise (between the 10th and 12th cen-
turies), and only one of them shows the
crescent moon with the correct orienta-
tion in relation to the SN, so it is diffi-
cult to make definite statements.
SN 1054 (the Crab supernova)
Shortly after, in 1054, the Crab SN exploded and was recorded by
Arab, Chinese and Japanese astronomers. It gave rise to the Crab neb-
ula, whose remnant neutron star we observe today as the Crab pulsar,
PSR B0531+21. Its distance from us is 2.0 ± 0.5 kpc.
The identification of the remnant of the 1054 SN with the Crab nebula,
based on the expansion speed of the cloud measured spectroscopically, as
well as on various concordant historical records, is quite firm. The first
suggestion that the Crab nebula was the remnant of SN 1054 was due
to Hubble. In 1928, when the nature of nebulae was still unknown, he
observed that the Crab nebula was expanding radially and deduced that
it was most probably the remnant of an explosion. From the expansion
rate he could infer that the explosion took place nine centuries earlier,
consistent with SN 1054. This analysis was refined and strengthened by
Mayall and Oort in 1939 and 1942. From the analysis of the historical
records, it is believed that it reached an apparent magnitude between
−7 and −4.5 and again it was visible during daylight. It remained
visible to the naked eye for about a year and a half. It is puzzling that,
for such an impressive phenomenon, there is no unambiguous European
record, particularly considering that, half a century earlier, SN 1006 was
recorded in Europe, so European chroniclers of that epoch did not lack
interest in such phenomena.4
Today, after almost 1000 years, the Crab nebula still has a luminosity
of 8 × 104 L , mostly in the form of polarized synchrotron radiation,
indicating the presence of highly relativistic electrons spiraling around
magnetic field lines. The source of this energy, so long after the explo-
sion, remained a puzzle until the discovery of the pulsar. As we will
discuss in Section 11.1.1, ultimately, this huge luminosity comes from
the pulsar’s spindown. The Crab nebula was first detected in radio
waves in 1963 and in X-rays in 1964. The discovery of the pulsar inside
the Crab nebula, in 1968, was a milestone in astronomy and made the
Crab the most studied and famous SN remnant, together with the recent
SN 1987A.
SN 1181
The next visible Galactic SN appeared in AD 1181, and was recorded in
China and Japan. It remained visible for six months. The SN remnant
3C58, with Galactic coordinates G130.7+03.1, at a distance of about
3.2 kpc, has been proposed as the remnant of this supernova. Within
this nebula has been discovered the radio and X-ray pulsar J0205+6449.
Recent work, however, has questioned this identification of the rem-
nant. If the identification were correct, its young age of less than 900
years would suggest a rapid expansion of the nebula, while the observed
expansion seems considerably lower, and rather suggests that the SN
remnant 3C58 could be at least 2700 years old.
 10.1 Historical Supernovae 7

SN 1572 (Tycho’s supernova)

The next SN visible to the naked eye appeared after about four centuries,
in AD 1572, in the direction of the constellation of Cassiopea, and was
observed in Asia and Europe. The SN was probably first detected in
Europe on November 6 (or possibly a few days earlier) by the abbot of
Messina and by other observers in Europe. Very detailed observations
of it were made by the Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, who realized
that it was a new star and begun observing it on November 11.
He carefully followed it over the following year, establishing that its
position was fixed, and determining it to within a few arcminutes. He
was also the only astronomer to monitor carefully the decline of its
brightness in the following months. This SN is thus often referred to
as Tycho’s SN.5 It remained visible for 18 months. The fact that its 5
As Tycho reports, “On the 11th day
position remained fixed, without a daily parallax with respect to the of November in the evening after sun-
set, I was contemplating the stars in a
fixed stars, allowed Brahe to infer that the object was far beyond the clear sky. I noticed that a new and un-
Moon; furthermore, the absence of apparent proper motion over a period usual star, surpassing the other stars in
of months showed him that it was much further away than the planets, brilliancy, was shining almost directly
and was indeed a star. This was a highly non-trivial conclusion for above my head; and since I had, from
boyhood, known all the stars of the
the epoch, which contradicted the accepted Aristotelian doctrine that heavens perfectly, it was quite evident
changes in the sky could only take place in the sublunar region, and to me that there had never been any
ultimately led to the notion of the immutability of the heavens being star in that place of the sky, even the
abandoned. It also opened the way to modern astronomy, revealing the smallest, to say nothing of a star so con-
spicuous and bright as this. I was so
importance of performing accurate astrometric measurements. astonished of this sight that I was not
Chinese observers recorded that it was visible in daylight, while Ko- ashamed to doubt the trustworthiness
rean documents compared its brightness with that of Venus. This sug- of my own eyes. But when I observed
that others, on having the place pointed
gests that at its maximum the SN was brighter than the threshold
out to them, could see that there was
V ' −4 for visibility during daylight, but not by much. The remnant is really a star there, I had no further
identified with the radio and X-ray source 3C10 (G120.1+01.4).6 Today doubts. A miracle indeed, one that has
the remnant is a shell of angular diameter 8 arcmin (by comparison, the never been previously seen before our
time, in any age since the beginning of
full Moon has an angular diameter between approximately 29 and 34
the world.” (From Burnham, 1978).
arcmin, depending on its exact distance from Earth along its orbit).
Historical records of the light curve suggest a type Ia SN. No compact
remnant has been detected at its center, which also points toward a 6
Beautiful images of this and
type Ia SN. Finally, the classification as type Ia has been beautifully other SN remnants in X-rays
confirmed thanks to the detection of a light echo from the SN, due to have been taken by Chandra, see
scattering and absorption/re-emission of the SN flash by interstellar dust http://chandra.harvard.edu/photo/2011
/tycho/
near the remnant. In this way it has been possible to observe some of
the light emitted by the SN near maximum brightness, which has arrived
more than four centuries after the direct flash, and it has been possible
to perform a spectroscopic analysis. The spectrum has confirmed that
SN 1572 was a typical type Ia SN. Its distance from us has usually
been quoted in the range 2.3 − 2.8 kpc, although the absolute brightness
inferred from the light echo, together with the historical information
that it had V ' −4, rather gives a distance 3.8+1.5
−1.1 kpc.
A search for the companion star from which the white dwarf accreted
mass, going beyond the Chandrasekhar limit, has revealed a G2 star
in the direction of the center of the nebula, and at a distance between
8 Stellar collapse
Fig. 10.1 The light curve of the SN
of AD 1604 from European (◦) and
Korean (•) observations, with a Eu-
ropean upper limit on October 8.
From Stephenson and Green (2002).
2.5 and 4.0 kpc, so compatible with the distance to the nebula. This
star has a peculiar phase-space velocity, more than three times as large
as that of any other star in this region, which could be interpreted as
arising from the kick received by the companion in the explosion. Other
interpretations, in terms of a star unrelated to the SN and belonging to
the thick disk population, are, however, possible.
SN 1604 (Kepler’s supernova)
The next SN visible to the naked eye appeared in 1604, and was first ob-
served on October 9 in Italy, by astronomers in Verona and in Cosenza.
It remained visible until October 1605, and was extensively followed
by European, Chinese and Korean astronomers. Johannes Kepler was
among those who observed it. Due to poor weather conditions in Prague,
he could start observing it only on October 17. However, his treatise De
Stella Nova in Pede Serpentarii (“On the new star in the foot of Ophi-
uchus”, Serpentarius being a less familiar name for the constellation
Ophiuchus) was the most important European description, in particu-
lar for the accurate positional measurements, so this SN is also called
Kepler’s SN. The most accurate positional measurements are in gen-
eral from European astronomers, with an accuracy of about 1 arcmin
(compared with a precision of about 1 degree from Chinese and Korean
astronomers). Its luminosity curve can be inferred both from European
observations and from Korean documents recording its luminosity on a
day-by-day basis for the first six months, and matching the European
observations. The SN was detected about 20 days before maximum lu-
minosity, thanks also to the fortuitous circumstance that at that time
Mars and Jupiter happened to be in conjunction. This conjunction was
being carefully observed, and the SN appeared at just 3 degrees NE from
the position of these two planets (and 6 degrees East of Saturn). We
therefore have a detailed record of the luminosity curve from appearance,
thorough maximum luminosity and fading; see Fig. 10.1. According to a
reconstruction of the luminosity curve due to Baade, it reached a max-
imum visual magnitude V ' −2.25, so it was not as spectacular as
SN 1006, with its inferred V ' −7.5, the Crab (maximum V between
−7 and −4.5) or Tycho’s SN (maximum V ' −4). Still, in the night
sky it was brighter than any star, and among the planets only Venus
was significantly brighter than the SN. When the SN appeared it was as
bright as Mars, and then surpassed Jupiter in a few days. The fact that
this SN was relatively high with respect to the Galactic plane reduced
significantly the obscuration by dust, allowing the SN to be visible by
the naked eye.
The remnant (whose Galactic coordinates are G004.5+06.8) was iden-
tified by Baade in 1943, and has been studied at infrared, optical, radio
and X-ray wavelengths. Its distance from us is quite uncertain, with
estimates ranging from about 3 kpc to more than 6 kpc. It is located in
the direction of the Galactic center, so, taking 4 kpc as an estimate of its
distance, it is roughly half-way from the Galactic center. It is relatively
 10.1 Historical Supernovae 9

high above the Galactic plane, at a vertical height z ' 590 (d/5 kpc) pc,
where d is its distance from us.
The classification of this SN has been controversial for decades. Baade
suggested that the historical light curve was consistent with a type Ia,
but his claim was later questioned. The presence of dense circum-
stellar material implies significant mass loss from the precursor star,
which is more suggestive of a core-collapse SN (although there are a few
examples of circumstellar material around spectroscopically confirmed
type Ia SNe). Since the 1990s, however, evidence accumulated in favor
of a type Ia SN. Analyses of X-ray spectra with Exosat, ASCA, XMM-
Newton and, more recently, Chandra indicate an overabundance of Fe
and Si in the ejecta and relatively little oxygen emission. Such a com-
position is inconsistent with a core-collapse SN, and is instead typical of
a type Ia SN. Furthermore, no neutron star has been detected near its
center, either in radio or in X-rays. In X-rays, the limit on the flux from
a hypothetical central compact object shows that, if it were present,
its intrinsic X-ray luminosity would be more than 100 times smaller
than that of the compact remnant of a typical core-collapse SN such as
Cas A. Infrared studies with Spitzer point again toward the conclusion
that this was a type Ia SN, although with significant circumstellar ma-
terial. Recent hydrodynamical simulations show that the morphology
of the remnant and its expansion characteristics can be reproduced by
a model of a type Ia SN originating from a white dwarf that accreted
mass by wind accretion from an asymptotic giant branch star with mass
(4 − 5)M .

The population of Galactic SN remnants

Another interesting Galactic SN remnant is Cas A, which is observed as
a bright source in radio and X-rays. At visible wavelengths this remnant
displays a ring of expanding knots. From their expansion velocity, and
assuming no deceleration, one can estimate that this SN exploded around
AD 1671. Its distance from us is estimated at 3.4+0.3 −0.1 kpc. It is quite
puzzling that for such a recent and relatively nearby SN there is no
historical record.
Galactic SNe of course occur at a much higher rate than SNe visible
to the naked eye, given that, for most lines of sight close to the Galactic
plane, obscuration by dust limits our view in visible light to a few kpc.
As of 2017, the catalog of Galactic SN remnants lists 381 objects.7 The 7
See http://www.physics.umanitoba.
remnant age is often uncertain or undetermined, but O(20 − 30) are ca/snr/SNRcat, which is regularly
updated.
estimated to be less than 2000 yr old. As we will see in Section 10.2.1,
typical estimates for the rate of SN explosions in our galaxy are of order
2 SNe per century. According to this estimate, there should be about
40 remnants younger than 2000 yr (raising to about 60 if we take 3
SNe per century as an estimate of the rate). This is not inconsistent
with the number of known young remnants, although it suggests that
more young remnants have still to be discovered. Comparing with the
10 Stellar collapse
8
Needless to say, by this we mean that
the signal from the SN reached Earth
around 1900. The actual explosion took
place about 25,000 yrs ago, given the
time taken by light to reach us from the
Galactic center. The same applies to all
the other SN explosion dates mentioned
above.
9
Or, the other way around, Shapley
in 1919 used this SN as an argument
against the island universe hypothesis
(i.e. the existence of other galaxies,
separated from ours by huge distances),
arguing that SN 1885A in Andromeda
would have M = −16, which was “out
of the question”. The typical abso-
lute magnitude of most novae is around
−8.8.
10
Actually, even before the discovery of
the neutron, in 1931, neutron stars were
somewhat anticipated by Lev Landau,
who wrote about stars where “atomic
nuclei come in close contact, forming
one gigantic nucleus”.
11
“With all reserve we advance the
view that supernovae represent the
transition from ordinary stars into neu-
tron stars, which in their final stages
consist of closely packed neutrons”,
W. Baade and F. Zwicky, Meeting of
the American Physical Society, Decem-
ber 1933, published in Phys. Rev. 45
(1934) 138.
12
See http://graspa.oapd.inaf.it/
asnc.html for an on-line version.
7 SNe in Table 10.1 for which convincing historical records exist, we can
estimate that about 10 − 20% of the galactic SNe exploding in the last
2000 years have been recorded in writing.
Among the known Galactic SN remnants, the record for the youngest
is currently held by G001.9+00.3. This remnant is located in the direc-
tion of the Galactic center, at a distance from the center of about 300 pc
in projection. From its expansion rate, assuming no deceleration, the
explosion date is estimated as the year 1855 ± 11. Since some decelera-
tion must have occurred, this is actually an upper bound on its age, and
the explosion date was most likely around 1900.8 The remnant was first
observed by VLA (Very Large Array) radio observations, and in X-rays
by Chandra.
10.2 Properties of Supernovae
Modern research on SNe began in 1885 when Hartwig discovered the
first extragalactic SN, in the Andromeda galaxy. It was first interpreted
as a nova. However, when in 1919 Lundmark estimated the distance to
Andromeda, it became clear that Hartwig’s “nova” had actually been
O(103 ) times brighter than a classical nova.9 However, it was only with
the pioneering paper by Baade and Zwicky in 1933 that the notion of SNe
was put forward and a first clear distinction was made between novae
and supernovae. In 1933, just one year after Chadwick’s discovery of the
neutron, Baade and Zwicky put forward the idea of a neutron star10 and
further speculated that SNe are an end-state of stellar evolution, with
the source of energy being provided by the gravitational energy released
by the collapse of the progenitor star to a neutron star.11
In the following years systematic searches, performed particularly by
Zwicky at Palomar Mountain, led to the discovery of 54 SNe up to 1956,
and 82 more from 1956 to 1963. In recent years, largely stimulated by
the importance of type Ia SNe for determining the expansion rate of
the Universe, intensive searches have dramatically increased the number
of detected SNe. Browsing the Asiago Supernova Catalog12 one finds
that in the period 1980–1989 were observed O(200) SNe, in the period
1990–1999 were found over 900 SNe, and in the period 2000–2009 were
observed O(3500) SNe, obviously all of them extragalactic. As of 2017
the total number of SNe in the catalog is about 9000, and is increasing at
a rate of about two SNe per day. This large sample, combined with the
improved quality of the observations, has allowed remarkable progress
in our understanding of the properties of SNe. Future large synoptic
surveys are expected to detect possibly O(105 ) SNe per year, at redshifts
z ∼ 0.5 − 1.
Much progress has also been made in recent years in identifying the
progenitor stars of local SN explosions, by comparisons with archival
data from HST or ground-based telescopes. Currently O(20) progenitors
have been identified. To draw statistical conclusions from this sample,
most of the information comes from progenitors at a distance below
 10.2 Properties of Supernovae 11

28 Mpc, although objects outside this distance, such as the massive

progenitor of SN2005gl at 60 Mpc, have also been identified.
Nowadays we understand that there are two basically different mech-
anisms behind SN explosions: either the core collapse of a star, powered
by the energy released in the gravitational collapse (just as proposed by
Baade and Zwicky) or the thermonuclear explosion of a white dwarf in
a binary system that accretes mass from a companion, going beyond its
Chandrasekhar limit.13 However, as we now discuss, a classification of 13
As we will later discuss, another pos-
SNe that is more direct from an observational point of view is based sibility that has been proposed in the
literature is a “double-degenerate” sce-
rather on the spectrum of the light emitted at maximum luminosity. nario, in which the thermonuclear ex-
plosion results from the merger of two
white dwarfs.
10.2.1 SN classification
The first distinction, proposed by R. Minkowski in 1941, was between
type I and type II SNe. Type I are defined by the fact that their spec-
trum near maximum luminosity does not show evident H lines, while
type II near their peak luminosity have prominent hydrogen lines. Sub-
sequently, in the late 1980s it was realized that type I SNe did not
constitute a homogeneous class, and that it was necessary to distin-
guish between two fundamentally different classes, which were denoted
as type Ia and type Ib. Type Ia SNe are defined as type I SNe that,
in their spectrum taken near maximum luminosity, show a deep absorp-
tion trough, typically around 6000–6150 Å, produced by blue-shifting of
two Si II lines with rest-frame wavelengths λ = 6347 and 6371 Å (often
collectively denoted as λ6355). The significance of these Si lines, as well
as lines of other intermediate-mass elements such as Ca, Mg, S and O
that are present in the spectrum of type Ia SNe at maximum light, is
that the part of the ejecta that is exposed shortly after the explosion
has undergone thermonuclear processing, leading to the production of
intermediate-mass elements. This thermonuclear processing has, how-
ever, been incomplete, since Si, O, etc. have not been burnt further to
eventually produce elements of the iron group.
The mean velocities of the ejecta, obtained from the blueshift of the
spectral lines, are of order 5000 km/s, with peak velocities as large as
20,000 km/s ' c/15. The typical spectrum of a type Ia SN is shown
in the upper curve of the left panel in Fig. 10.2. It shows strong Si II
absorption at about 6150 Å, while H lines are absent. At late times, say
after more than 4 months, the typical spectrum of a type Ia SN changes,
and rather than being dominated by lines of intermediate-mass elements,
it is now dominated by a blend of dozens of Fe emission lines, mixed with
some Co lines. This is a consequence of the fact that, with time, the
initially very dense ejecta become more and more transparent because
of their expansion or, in other words, the photosphere (i.e. the surface
from where the photons can start to free stream toward us) recedes,
exposing the products of thermonuclear burning in the inner core.
Type Ib SNe, in contrast, are defined as type I SNe whose spectrum
near maximum brightness does not show the Si II absorption line that
defines type Ia SNe. In fact, it is useful to distinguish further between
12 Stellar collapse

max. +10 months

Ia

Ib

II

Fig. 10.2 Left panel: Spectra of basic SN types near maximum luminosity. Type II
are defined by a clear signature of Hα. Type Ia is defined by a lack of H lines and
a strong Si II absorption at about 6150 Å. Type Ib/c lack both H and Si lines, but
type Ib has He lines, which are not present in type Ic. Ten months later (right panel)
SN Ia show strong emissions of [FeII] and [FeIII], SN Ib/c are dominated by [CaII]
and [OI]. These same lines plus strong Hα emission are typical of SN II at late times.
From Cappellaro and Turatto (2001).

type Ib and type Ic SNe. Neither type shows H or Si lines near maximum
H lines ?
luminosity. However, near maximum luminosity, type Ib SNe show He
no yes lines, while type Ic SNe have neither H nor He lines. At late time, the
spectra of type Ib and type Ic become very similar, indicating that the
Si II lines ? plateau ? distinction among Ib and Ic (sometimes collectively denoted as Ibc) is
less fundamental than the distinction between type Ia and type Ibc.
yes no no yes
Type II SNe are defined by the fact that they show prominent H lines
He lines ? in the spectrum taken near maximum luminosity. They are further di-
no yes vided into two classes, depending not on further spectral features, but
II b rather on the decline with time of their light curves. Those that, after
Ia Ic Ib II L II P reaching maximum luminosity, show a plateau of almost constant lumi-
thermonuclear
small
core collapse
large nosity for about 2–3 months are called II-P, while those that show a
explosion envelope
decline approximately linear in magnitude (and exponential in luminos-
ity, recalling that the magnitude is obtained from the logarithm of the
Fig. 10.3 A decision tree for the luminosity; see the Complement Section 10.6) are called II-L. A compar-
classification of SNe, based on spec- ison between the spectra of type Ia, Ib and II SNe, both at maximum
tral features near maximum light luminosity (left panel) and after 10 months (right panel), is shown in
and, for type II SNe, on the tem-
Fig. 10.2. A decision tree based on these criteria is shown in Fig. 10.3.
poral evolution of the light curve.
The separation into type I and type II, however, does not really reflect
the underlying explosion mechanisms. Rather, type Ia SN are believed
 10.2 Properties of Supernovae 13

to originate from the thermonuclear explosion of a carbon–oxygen white

dwarf (WD) in a binary system. In the simplest and commonly accepted
scenario, called single-degenerate, a white dwarf (WD) accretes matter
from a companion such as a red giant (or even a main sequence star for
a sufficiently close binary system) until its mass goes beyond the Chan-
drasekhar limit MCh ' 1.39M . Then the star undergoes a disruptive
thermonuclear explosion, and is dispersed in the external space in the
form of a gaseous nebula. No compact remnant is formed in the process.
An alternative scenario, called double-degenerate, rather involves the co-
alescence of two WDs, which again results in a thermonuclear explosion,
and no compact remnant.
In contrast, types Ib, Ic, II L and II P all correspond to core collapse
SNe, i.e. to the gravitational collapse of the inner part of the star. When
a star has exhausted the nuclear fuel in its core, it is no longer able to
balance its self-gravity by the pressure generated by the thermonuclear
reactions, and a complicated dynamics begins. As we will discuss in
detail in Section 10.3, this can lead to a SN explosion, with ejection of
the external layers of the stars, while the core collapses to a NS or a BH.
The difference between the various types of core collapse can be traced
to the mass and size of the progenitor star, and to the size and com-
position of its envelope. In the early phase of the explosion the ejecta
are very dense and opaque to electromagnetic radiation. This implies
that the light emitted in this early stage, including the spectrum near
maximum luminosity, only probes the outermost layers and is therefore
mostly sensitive to the size and composition of the envelope.
The mass of the H envelope of a star can vary, depending on many
factors. For instance, stars can lose their envelope through strong stel-
lar winds, as in the Wolf–Rayet stars.14 Furthermore, when a star is a 14
Wolf–Rayet (WR) stars originate
member of a close binary system, the interaction with the companion from luminous OB stars with strong
and broad emission lines and an at-
can have important effects on its envelope; the two stars can undergo a mosphere made mostly of He, while
phase of a common envelope evolution, or material can be transferred H is deficient or totally absent. It
from a star to the other through Roche-lobe overflow. It is generally is believed that they are very massive
accepted that type II SNe derive from the explosion of stars with mass evolved stars, whose H layer has been
blown away by strong stellar winds,
in the range 10 − 30 M . In a typical SN of type II-P the progenitor is a produced by radiation pressure. As a
red supergiant whose H envelope has a large mass, of order 5 − 10 M . result, WR stars are continually eject-
The energy of the explosion completely ionizes the H envelope. The gas ing gas at high speed, with line-of-sight
then enters a stage of prolonged recombination, which maintains an ap- velocities that can be over 2000 km/s.
The resulting Doppler broadening is re-
proximately constant temperature, typically between 5000 and 8000 K, sponsible for the observed broadness of
and the photons emitted during recombination produce the plateau of their emission lines. These winds are
type II-P SNe. The duration of this plateau depends on the mass of the also responsible for a surface composi-
H envelope. As the photosphere recedes, the dominant mechanism for tion that shows the presence of prod-
ucts of the nuclear burning in the inner
photon emission becomes the decay of various radioactive nuclei newly regions.
synthesized in the explosion, which at first can extend the plateau for
a brief time. Then, the SN enters in the phase where its luminosity is
powered uniquely by radioactive decays. Since radioactive decays follow
an exponential law N (t) = N0 e−t/τ (where N (t) is the number of nuclei
at time t, and τ is related to the half-life τ1/2 by τ1/2 = τ ln 2), the corre-
sponding luminosity L decreases exponentially, with a slope determined
14 Stellar collapse
15
Hard X-rays and γ-rays were also
directly detected from the type II
SN1987A in the Large Magellanic
Cloud. The 56 Ni decay chain also pow-
ers the light curve of type Ia SNe. For
the type Ia SN2014J, which is at a dis-
tance of just 3.3 Mpc, it has been pos-
sible to detect with the INTEGRAL
satellite the two main γ-ray lines due
to the 56 Co decay; see Churazov et al.
(2014) and Diehl et al. (2015).
by the half-life of the dominant process. Thus in this stage log L, and
hence the negative of the apparent magnitude, decreases linearly.
Type II-L supernovae are due to the core collapse of stars with an H
envelope of about 1−2 M . In this case, because of the smaller envelope
mass, the velocity of expansion of the H-rich envelope is larger, and the
SN enters directly into the phase dominated by radioactive decays, with
little or no plateau, and a linear decrease of the magnitude. Intermediate
cases exist between typical type II-P and typical type II-L supernovae,
depending on the size of the H envelope.
In the phase powered by radioactive decays an important role is played
by 56 Ni, which is the main product of burning at nuclear statistical equi-
librium in the conditions of temperature and density typically present
in SNe. In particular, 56 Ni produces 56 Co through electron capture
56
Ni + e− → 56
Co + νe + γ , (10.1)
with a half life of 6.1 days, emitting photons with energies of 750, 812 and
158 keV. The main source of luminosity later becomes the radioactive
decay of 56 Co to 56 Fe, which goes mostly through electron capture (81%)
56
Co + e− → 56
Fe + νe + γ , (10.2)
and, to a lesser extent (19%), through β-decay 56 Co → 56 Fe+e+ +νe +γ.
The process has a half-life of 77.7 days and the photons from electron
capture are emitted at energies of 1.238 MeV and 847 keV. These γ-
ray photons are down-scattered and thermalized in the ejecta until they
emerge as optical or near-infrared photons.15 The subsequent important
radioactive decay is that of a different isotope of cobalt, 57 Co, which is
initially less abundant but has a longer lifetime, τ1/2 ' 271 days.
In general, because of the very high expansion velocity of the ejecta,
the lines of type II SNe show significant Doppler broadening. However,
approximately 10–15% of type II SNe show, on top of the broad lines,
some narrow lines, and are then classified as type IIn, where “n” stands
for narrow. They are interpreted as type II SNe with significant cir-
cumstellar material, which is most likely due to episodes of strong mass
losses before the SN explosion. When the ejecta hits this circumstellar
material, some of its kinetic energy is converted to radiation, and pro-
duces lines whose broadening rather reflects the much smaller velocity
of the circumstellar material.
The close relation between type Ib and type II SNe is clearly seen by
comparing the left and right panels of Fig. 10.2. On the left panel, which
shows the spectra near maximum luminosity, the spectra of type Ib and
type II SNe look very different. However, after about 10 months, we
see that the spectra of type Ib SNe are similar to those of type II,
with strong lines from neutral oxygen and singly-ionized calcium. In
contrast, the spectrum of a type Ia SN remains very different, and after
10 months is rather dominated by iron lines. The meaning of these
patterns can be understood by observing that the light emitted near
maximum luminosity only carries informations about the external layers
 10.2 Properties of Supernovae 15

of the stars, given that the optical depth of the ejecta at that time is
high. After 10 months we are instead receiving light free-streaming from
deeper regions of the ejecta, and we find that type Ib and type II SNe
now look very similar. The natural interpretation of these facts is that
type Ib SNe are the result of the core collapse of stars that have lost their
H envelope, because of stellar winds or interaction with a companion.
This explains the lack of H lines, which instead dominate the spectrum at
maximum luminosity in type II SNe, and the similarity of the spectra at
later times. This interpretation is further supported by the existence of
cases intermediate between type Ib and type II; the missing link was first
provided by SN 1993J, whose spectrum evolved from that of a type II to
type Ib in just a few weeks. This is interpreted as the result of the core
collapse of a star whose H envelope had a rather small mass, of about
0.2 M . There are other examples of this type, so SNe that quickly
evolve from type II to type Ib are sometimes classified as members of a
new class, called type IIb. In Fig. 10.3 we represent this class with an
arrow connecting type II-L with type Ib.
Type Ic SNe also fit well in this scheme. Again their spectrum at late
time is the same as that of type Ib and type II, showing that they are
core-collapse SNe. The lack of both H and He lines can be understood on
recalling that a massive star, during its lifetime, goes through different
stages of nuclear burning, which results in a onion-like structure. In
particular, the most external layers of the star consist of a H envelope,
on top of a He envelope. Type Ic events are then naturally interpreted
as the core collapse of stars that have lost both their H and their He
envelopes.16 16
Likely type Ic have some Helium too
Type Ib, Ic and II SN are then collectively denoted as core-collapse in their outer layer, but this helium pro-
duces no line due to the lack of favor-
SNe, and can be thought as a sequence Ic–Ib–IIb–IIL–IIP, from smaller able physical conditions, see Dessart,
to larger H and He envelopes. Type Ic, Ib and IIb SNe are also collec- Hillier, Li and Woosley (2012).
tively called “stripped-envelope SNe”. An interesting subclass of type Ic
SNe, denoted type Ic-BL (for “broad-line”) consists of type Ic SNe with
unusually broad absorption lines, and photospheric velocities in excess
of 20,000 km/s.
The difference between core-collapse and type Ia SNe is further high-
lighted by the fact that core-collapse SNe have only been observed in
spiral galaxies, near sites of recent star formation. This again indicates
that their progenitors are massive short-lived stars. Type Ia SNe, in
contrast, have been observed both in spiral and in elliptical galaxies.
The latter show little or no sign of recent star formation, showing that
type Ia SNe are not related to massive stars, since these have a short
life-time. Rather, their progenitors must be low-mass stars.

10.2.2 Luminosities
Luminosity of Type Ia SNe
The thermonuclear explosion of type Ia SNe takes place when the mass
of the WD goes beyond a fixed threshold, given by the Chandrasekhar
mass. As a result, their intrinsic luminosity, to a first approximation, is
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 CHAPTER VII.

THE CATASTROPHE.

James Beresford was not brave. He was very kind and tender and good; but
he had not courage to meet the darker emergencies of life. He felt as he
rushed downstairs from his wife’s presence that he had but postponed the
evil day, and that many another dreadful argument on this subject, which
was not within the range of arguing, lay before him. What could he say to
her? He felt the abstract justice of her plea. A hopeless, miserable, lingering,
loathsome disease, which wore out even love itself, and made death a
longed-for relief instead of a calamity. What could he say when she appealed
to him to release her from that anguish of waiting, and hasten the deliverance
which only could come in one way? He could not say that it would be
wicked or a sin; all that he could say was, that he had not the courage to do it
—had not the strength to put her away from him. Was it true, he asked
himself, that he would rather watch out her lingering agonies than deprive
himself of the sight of her, or consent to part with her a day sooner than he
must? Was it himself he was thinking of alone, not her? Could he see her
anguish and not dare to set her free? He knew that, in the case of another
man, he would have counselled the harder self-sacrifice. But he, how could
he do it? He rushed out of the house, through the afternoon sunshine, away
to the first space he could find near, and struck across the open park, where
there was no one to disturb him, avoiding all the pleasant walks and paths
where people were. The open space and the silence subdued his excitement;
and yet what could really bring him peace? He had no peace to look for—
nothing but a renewed and ever-new painful struggle with her and with
himself. Yes, even with himself. If she suffered greatly, he asked, with a
shudder, how could he stand by and look on, knowing that he could deliver
her? And would not she renew her prayers and cries to him for deliverance?
God help him! It was not as if he had made an end of that mad prayer once
and for ever by refusing it. It would come back—he knew it would come
back—hour by hour and day by day.
Oh, how people talk (he thought) of such mysteries when the trouble is
not theirs! He himself had argued the question often, in her hearing, even
with her support. He had made it as clear as day to himself and to others. He
had asked what but cowardice—miserable cowardice—would keep a man
from fulfilling this last dread, yet tender service? Only love would dare it—
but love supreme, what will that not do, to save, to succour, to help, to
deliver? Love was not love which would shrink and think of self. So he had
often said with indignant, impassioned expansion of the heart—and she had
listened and echoed what he said. All this returned to him as he rushed
across the dewy grass, wet with spring rains, and untrodden by any other
foot, with London vague in mists and muffled noises all round. Brave words
—brave words! he remembered them, and his heart grew sick with self-pity.
How did he know it was coming to him? How could he think that this case
which was so plain, so clear, should one day be his own? God and all good
spirits have pity upon him! He would have bidden you to do it, praised you
with tears of sympathy for that tremendous proof of love; but himself? He
shrank, shrank, contracted within himself; retreated, crouching and slinking,
from the house. What a poor cur he was, not worthy the name of man! but he
could not do it; it was beyond the measure of his powers.
When he turned to go home the afternoon light was waning. Small heart
had he to go home. If he could have escaped anywhere he would have been
tempted to do so; and yet he was on the rack till he returned to her. Oh, that
Heaven would give her that sweet patience, that angelical calm in suffering,
which some women have! Was it only religious women who had that calm?
He asked himself this question with a piteous helplessness; for neither he nor
she had been religious in the ordinary sense of the word. They had been
good so far as they knew how—enjoying themselves, yet without
unkindness, nay, with true friendliness, charity, brotherly-heartedness to their
neighbours; but as for God, they had known little and thought less of that
supreme vague Existence whom they accepted as a belief, without knowing
Him as a person, or desiring to know. And now, perhaps, had their theory of
life been different they might have been better prepared for this emergency.
Was it so? He could not tell. Perhaps philosophy was enough with some
strong natures, perhaps it was temperament. Who can tell how human
creatures are moved; who touches the spring, and what the spring is, which
makes one rebellious and another submissive, sweet as an angel? He had
loved the movement, the variety, the indocility, the very caprice, of his wife,
in all of which she was so much herself. Submission, resignedness, were not
in that changeful, vivacious, wilful nature; but, oh, if only now the meekness
of the more passive woman could somehow get transfused into her veins, the
heavenly patience, the self courage that can meet anguish with a smile!
There was Cherry, his faded old maiden sister—had it been she, it was in her
to have drawn her cloak over the gnawing vulture, and borne her tortures
without a sign of flinching. But even the very idea of this comparison hurt
him while it flashed through his mind. It was a slight to Annie to think that
any one could bear this horrible fate more nobly than she. Poor Annie! by
this time had she exhausted the first shock? Had she forgiven him? Was she
asking for him? He turned, bewildered by all his dreary thoughts, and
calmed a little by fatigue and silence, to go home once more.
It was getting dusk. As he passed the populous places of the park the hum
of voices and pleasant sounds came over him dreamily like a waft of warmer
air. He passed through that murmur of life and pleasure, and hurried along to
the more silent stony streets among which his Square lay. As he approached
he overtook Maxwell walking in the same direction, who looked at him with
some suspicion. The two men accosted each other at the same moment.
‘I wanted to see you. Come with me,’ said Beresford; and——’ What is
the matter? Why did you send for me?’ the doctor cried.
Then Maxwell explained that a hurried message had come for him more
than an hour before, while he was out, and that he was on his way to the
Square now.
‘Has there been any—change?’ he said. After this they sped along
hurriedly with little conversation. There seemed something strange already
about the house when they came in sight of it. The blinds were down in all
the upper windows, but; at the library appeared Cara’s little white face
looking eagerly out. She was looking out, but she did not see them, and an
organ-man stood in front of the house grinding out the notes of the
Trovatore’s song ‘Ah, che la morte,’ upon his terrible instrument. Cara’s
eyes and attention seemed absorbed in this. James Beresford opened the door
with his latch-key unobserved by any one, and went upstairs direct, followed
by the doctor, to his wife’s room.
How still it was! How dark! She was fond of light, and always had one of
those tall moon lamps, which were her favourites; there was no lamp in the
room, however, now, but only some twinkling candles, and through the side
window a glimmer of chill blue sky. Nurse rose as her master opened the
door. She gave a low cry at the sight of him. ‘Oh, don’t come here, sir, don’t
come here!’ she cried.
 ‘Is she angry, still angry?’ said poor Beresford, his countenance falling.
‘Oh, go away, sir; it was the doctor we wanted!’ said the woman.
Meantime Maxwell had pushed forward to the bedside, He gave a cry of
dismay and horror, surprise taking from him all self-control. ‘When did this
happen?’ he said.
James Beresford pressed forward too, pushing aside the woman who tried
to prevent him; and there he saw—what? Not his wife: a pale, lovely image,
still as she never was in her life, far away, passive, solemn, neither caring for
him nor any one; beyond all pain or fear of pain. ‘My God!’ he said. He did
not seem even to wonder. Suddenly it became quite clear to him that for
years he had known exactly how this would be.
Maxwell put the husband, who stood stupefied, out of his way; he called
the weeping nurse, who, now that there was nothing to conceal, gave free
outlet to her sorrow. ‘Oh, don’t ask me, sir, I can’t tell you!’ she said among
her sobs. ‘Miss Carry rung the bell and I came. And from that to this never a
word from her, no more than moans and hard breathing. I sent for you, sir,
and then for the nearest as I could get. He came, but there was nothing as
could be done. If she took it herself or if it was give her, how can I tell? Miss
Carry, poor child, she don’t know what’s happened; she’s watching in the
library for her papa. The medicine-box was on the table, sir, as you see. Oh,
I don’t hold with them medicine-boxes; they puts things into folk’s heads!
The other doctor said as it was laudanum; but if she took it, or if it was give
her——’
Mr. Maxwell stopped the woman by a touch on the arm. Poor Beresford
stood still there, supporting himself by the bed, gazing upon that which was
no more his wife. His countenance was like that of one who had himself
died; his mouth was open, the under lip dropped; the eyes strained and
tearless. He heard, yet he did not hear what they were saying. Later it came
back to his mind; at present he knew nothing of it. ‘God help him!’ said the
doctor, turning away to the other end of the room. And there he heard the
rest of the story. They left the two together who had been all in all to each
other. Had he given her the quietus, he who loved her most, or had she taken
it? This was what neither of them could tell. They stood whispering together
while the husband, propping himself by the bed, looked at her. At her? It
was not her. He stood and looked and wondered, with a dull aching in him.
No more—he could not go to her, call her by her name. A dreary, horrible
sense that this still figure was some one else, a something new and unknown
to him, another woman who was not his wife, came into his soul. He was
frozen by the sudden shock; his blood turned into ice, his heart to stone.
Annie! oh, heaven, no; not that; not the marble woman lying in her place!
He was himself stone, but she was sculptured marble, a figure to put on a
monument. Two hours of time—light, frivolous, flying hours—could not
change flesh and blood into that; could not put life so far, and make it so
impossible. He did not feel that he was bereaved, or a mourner, or that he
had lost what he most loved; he felt only a stone, looking at stone, with a
dull ache in him, and a dull consternation, nothing more. When Maxwell
came and took him by the arm he obeyed stupidly, and went with his friend,
not moving with any will of his own, but only because the other moved him;
making no ‘scene’ or terrible demonstrations of misery. Maxwell led him
downstairs holding him by the arm, as if he had been made of wood, and
took him to the library, and thrust him into a chair, still in the same passive
state. It was quite dark there, and Cara, roused from her partial trance of
watching at the window, stumbled down from her chair at the sight of them,
with a cry of alarm, yet relief, for the lamps outside had beguiled the child,
and kept her from perceiving how dark it had grown till she turned round.
No one had thought of bringing in the lamp, of lighting the candles, or any
of the common offices of life in that house where Death had so suddenly set
up his seat. The doctor rang the bell and ordered lights and wine. He began
to fear for James: his own mind was agitated with doubts, and a mingled
severity and sympathy. He felt that whatever had happened he must find it
out; but, whatever had happened, how could he do less than feel the
sentiment of a brother for his friend? He did not take much notice of the
child, but stooped and kissed her, being the friend of the house, and bade her
go to her nurse in a softened tender tone. But he scarcely remarked that Cara
did not go. Poor child, who had lost her mother! but his pity for her was of a
secondary kind. It was the man whom he had to think of—who had done it,
perhaps—who, perhaps, was his wife’s innocent murderer—yet whom,
nevertheless, this good man felt his heart yearn and melt over. When the
frightened servant came in, with red eyes, bringing the wine, Maxwell
poured out some for the chief sufferer, who sat motionless where he had
placed him, saying nothing. It was necessary to rouse him one way or other
from this stupefaction of pain.
‘Beresford,’ he said curtly, ‘listen to me; we must understand each other.
It is you who have done this? Be frank with me—be open. It is either you or
she herself. I have never met with such a case before; but I am not the man
to be hard upon you. Beresford! James! think, my dear fellow, think; we
were boys together; you can’t suppose I’ll he hard on you.’
‘She asked me—she begged of me,’ said Beresford, slowly. ‘Maxwell,
you are clever, you can do wonders.’
‘I can’t bring those back that have gone—there,’ said the doctor, a sudden
spasm coming in his throat. ‘Don’t speak of the impossible. Clever—God
knows! miserable bunglers, that is what we are, knowing nothing. James! I
won’t blame you; I would have done it myself in your place. Speak out; you
need not have any reserves from me.’
‘It isn’t that. Maxwell, look here; they’ve spirited my wife away, and put
that in her place.’
‘God! he’s going mad,’ said the doctor, feeling his own head buzz and
swim.
‘No,’ was the answer, with a sigh. ‘No, I almost wish I could. I tell you it
is not her. You saw it as well as I. That my wife? Maxwell——’
‘It is all that remains of her,’ said the doctor, sternly. ‘Mind what I say; I
must know; no more of this raving. Did you do it? Of course she asked you,
poor soul!’ (Here the doctor’s voice wavered as if a gust of wind had blown
it about.) ‘She never could endure the thought of pain; she asked you, it was
natural: and you gave her—opium?’
‘Nothing. I dared not,’ he said, with a shiver. ‘I had not the courage. I let
her plead; but I had not the courage. What? put her away from me,
willingly? how could I do it? Yes; if she had been in a paroxysm; if I had
seen her in agony; but she was calm, not suffering, and she asked me to do it
in cold blood?’
‘What then?’ The doctor spoke sternly, keeping the tone of authority to
which in his stupefied state poor Beresford appeared to respond. Cara from a
corner looked on with wide-open eyes, listening to everything.
‘Nothing more,’ he said, still sighing heavily. ‘It was more than I could
bear. I rushed away. I went out to calm myself—to try and think; and I met
you, Maxwell; and now——’
He lifted his hands with a shuddering gesture. ‘That is all—that is all! and
this desolate place is my—home; and that is—Annie! No, no! Maxwell,
some of your doctors—your cruel doctors—have taken her away to try their
experiments. Oh, say it is so, and I’ll thank you on my knees!’
 ‘Be quiet, Beresford! Try and be a man. Don’t you see what I have got to
do? If it was not you it was herself. I don’t blame her, poor soul, poor soul!
the thought of all she had to go through made her mad. Be silent, man, I tell
you! We must not have her branded with the name of suicide, James,’ cried
the doctor, fairly sobbing. ‘Poor girl, poor girl! it is not much wonder if she
was afraid; but we must not let them say ill of her now she is gone. I
remember her before you married her, a lovely creature; and there she is,
lying—but they must not speak ill of her. I’ll say it was—— Yes. if it’s a lie
I can’t help that—my conscience will bear it—there must not be talk, and an
inquest. Yes, that’s what I’ll say.’
‘An inquest!’ said the wretched husband, waking up from his stupor with
a great cry.
‘I’ll take it upon myself,’ said Maxwell, going to the writing-table. Then
he saw Cara leaning out of her chair towards them with great strained wide-
open eyes.
‘Cara! have you heard all we were saying?’
‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand!’ said the child with sudden sobs.
‘What have you done to my mamma?’
The door of the library opened softly, and they all started as if at the
approach of a new calamity.
‘If you please, sir,’ said John, addressing Maxwell with natural
recognition of the only source of authority, ‘I came to see if you wouldn’t
have some dinner—and master——’
With a moan, Beresford hid his face in his hands. Dinner must be,
whosoever lives or dies—if the world were breaking up—if hope and love
had failed for ever. John stood for a moment against the more powerful light
of the gas in the hall, for his answer, and then, not getting any, he had the
grace to steal quietly away.
But this wonderful intrusion of the outer ordinary life disturbed the
melancholy assembly. It roused Beresford to a sense of what had befallen
him. He got up and began to pace up and down the long room, and Cara’s
sobs broke the silence, and Maxwell at the table, with a spasm in his throat,
compiled the certificate of the death. In what medical form he put it I cannot
tell; but he strained his conscience and said something which would pass,
which nobody could contradict; was not that enough? ‘I hope I may never do
anything more wicked,’ he said, muttering to himself. The nurse came to call
the child, which was the first thing that had seemed natural to Cara in the
whole miserable day’s proceedings. She did not resist the command to go to
bed, as they had all resisted the invitation to dine. She got up quickly when
nurse called her, glad of something she was used to.
‘It’s the only place as we’re all fit for,’ said nurse, with a sigh of
weariness; ‘your poor papa, Miss Carry, as well as the rest.’ Then she turned
to the gentlemen with a touch of natural oratory. ‘What is the use of talking,’
she said; ‘I’m one as has loved her since first she drew breath. She was my
child, she was; and look you here, I’m glad—her old nurse is glad. I’ll not
cry nor make no moan for her,’ said nurse, the tears running down her
cheeks. ‘I’d have give her that dose myself if the darling had asked me; I
would, and never have trembled. I’d have done it and stood up bold and told
you I done it, and I don’t blame her. She’s seen what it was, and so have I.’
‘Nurse, you are a good woman,’ said the doctor, coming hastily forward
and grasping her hand. ‘Nurse, hold your tongue, and don’t say a word.
Don’t let those idiots talk downstairs. I’m ready to give them the reason of it
whoever asks. I did not know it would come on so quickly when I left to-
day; but I know what it is that has carried her off. It was to be expected, if
we hadn’t all been a parcel of fools.’
Nurse looked him anxiously in the face. ‘Then it wasn’t—it wasn’t?——
Ah!’ she added, drawing a long breath, ‘I think I understand.’
‘Now, hold your tongue,’ he cried, curtly, ‘and stop the others. You are a
sensible woman. My poor little Cara, good-night.’
‘Don’t speak to him,’ nurse whispered, drawing the child away. ‘Leave
your poor papa alone, darling. God help him, he can’t say nothing to you to-
night. Here’s Sarah coming to put you to bed, and glad I’d be to be there too:
it’s the only place as we’re fit for now.’
Sarah, who was waiting outside, had red eyes overflowing with tears. She
hugged the little girl and kissed her, bursting out into fits of subdued crying.
But Cara’s own sobs were stilled and over. Her head ached with bewildering
pain; her mind was full of confused bewildering thoughts.
 CHAPTER VIII.

CONSOLATION.

‘This is indeed an affliction, dear Miss Beresford. We came up directly we

heard of it; I would not let a moment pass. Oh, how little we know! We were
thinking of your poor niece as having returned from her foreign tour; as
being about to enter upon the brilliant society of the season. I don’t know
when I have received such a shock; and my poor Maria, her feelings were
almost beyond control; but she would not stay away.’
‘I thought she would come,’ said Miss Charity. ‘Maria always likes to get
news from the fountain-head, and to see how people are bearing their
troubles. Yes, my dear, I am bearing mine very well, as you see. Poor Annie!
she was only my niece by marriage after all. At my age one sees even one’s
own nieces, women with families, die without great trouble. It may sound
hard, but it’s true. When a woman is married, and has her own children
about her, you can’t but feel that she’s less to you. It’s dreadful for them; but,
so far as you are concerned, you lost her long ago.’
‘Oh, dear Miss Beresford, you like to pretend you are calm, to hide how
soft-hearted you are! But we know you better than that. I myself, though I
knew (comparatively) so little of poor Mrs. James——’
‘And I thought you did not like each other, so it is all the more kind of
you to cry. Cherry will cry too as much as you please, and be thankful for
your sympathy. Have you had a pleasant walk? I think the primroses are
thicker than ever this spring. We have been sending up basketsful. She was
fond of them——’ Here the old lady faltered for a moment. This was the
kind of allusion that melted her, not straightforward talk. She was in
profound black, a great deal more crape than the dressmaker thought at all
necessary, but Miss Charity had her own views on these subjects. ‘Put
double upon me, and take it off the child,’ she had said, to the wonder of the
tradespeople, who felt that the mourning for a niece by marriage was a very
different thing from that which was required for a mother. Mrs. Burchell
respected her greatly for her crape. She knew the value of it, and the
unthriftiness, and felt that this was indeed showing respect.
 ‘We heard it was very sudden at last,’ said the Rector, ‘that nobody had
the least idea—it was a very lingering disorder that she was supposed to
have? So we heard, at least. Do you happen to know how the doctors
accounted for its suddenness at last? There is something very dreadful to the
imagination in so sudden a death.’
‘I wish I could think I should have as quick an end,’ said Miss Charity;
‘but we Beresfords are strong, and die hard. We can’t shake off life like that.
We have to get rid of it by inches.’
‘My dear lady,’ said the Rector, ‘I don’t mean to say that I would put any
trust in death-bed repentances; but surely it is a privilege to have that time
left to us for solemn thought, for making sure that we are in the right way.’
‘I never think much when I am ill, my dear Rector; I can’t. I think why
the flies buzz so, and I think if I was Martha it would make me unhappy to
have such a red nose; and if you came to me, instead of listening to what you
said, I should be thinking all the time that your white tie was undone’ (here
the Rector furtively and nervously glanced down, and instinctively put up his
hand to feel if the remark was true) ‘or your coat rusty at the elbows. I say
these things at a hazard, not that I ever remarked them,’ she added, laughing.
‘You are tidiness itself.’
The Rector was put out by these chance possibilities of criticism, and
could not but feel that Miss Charity’s quick eyes must have seen him with
his white tie untidy, loosely unfastened, under his beard. He had grown a
beard, like so many clergymen, and it was not an improvement. Instead of
looking clean, as he once did, he looked black and coarse, a mixture of sea-
captain and divine. He kept putting up his hand stealthily all the time he
remained, and inviting his wife with nervous glances, to let him know if all
was right. Unfortunately he could not see it under the forest of black beard.
‘We heard,’ said his wife, coming to his relief, ‘that there was something
about an opiate—an over-dose, something of that sort—that poor Mrs. James
had taken it without measuring it, or—you know how everything is
exaggerated. I was quite afraid, and so glad to see the death in the paper
without any inquest or formalities of that kind, which must be so painful.
Was there really nothing in the story of the opiate? It is so strange how
things get about.’
‘I don’t think it at all strange, Maria. The servants call in a strange doctor,
in their fright, who does not know anything about her case or temperament.
He hears that she has to take some calming drops to relieve her pain, and of
course he jumps in his ignorance to the idea of an overdose. It is the
fashionable thing now-a-days. It is what they all say——’
‘And there was no truth in it?’
‘None whatever,’ said Miss Charity, who, safest of all advocates,
implicitly believed what she was saying, not knowing that any doubt had
ever existed on the subject. She sat facing them in her new mourning, so
freshly, crisply black. Miss Charity knew of no mystery even, and her calm
certainty had all the genuine force of truth.
The Rector and his wife looked at each other. ‘It shows that one should
not believe the tenth part of what one hears,’ he said. ‘I was told confidently
that poor Mrs. James Beresford held strange ideas about some things.’
‘That you may be quite sure of, Rector. I never knew any one yet worth
their salt who did not hold odd ideas about something——’
‘Not about fundamentals, my dear lady. I am not straitlaced; but there are
some matters—on some things, I am sure, none of us would like to give an
uncertain sound. Life, for example—human life, is too sacred to be trifled
with; but there is a set of speculatists, of false philosophers—I don’t know
what to call them—sceptics, infidels they generally are, and at the same time
radicals, republicans——’
‘Ah, politics? I dare say poor Annie was odd in politics. What did it
matter? they were not political people. If James had been in Parliament,
indeed, as I should like to have seen him—but unfortunately he was a man
of fine tastes; that is fatal. A man of fine tastes, who is fond of travelling,
and collecting, and rapt up in his wife, will never become a public man; and
I should like to have seen James in Parliament. Strange ideas! oh, yes, queer
to the last degree. If there is anything worse than republicanism (is there?) I
should think poor Annie went in for that.’
‘That is bad enough, but it is not exactly what I meant,’ said the Rector;
and then he rose up with an air of the deepest conventional respect. ‘My
dear, here is your kind friend, Miss Cherry,’ he said.
Mrs. Burchell sprang up at the intimation, and rushed forward with open
arms. She had put on a black merino dress instead of her usual silk, and a
black shawl, to mark her sense of the calamity—and swallowed up poor slim
Miss Cherry in the entanglements of that embrace, with solemn fervour.
Cherry had not much sense of humour, and she was too good to pass any
judgment upon the sudden warmth of affection thus exhibited; but it was a
little confusing and suffocating to find herself without any warning engulfed
in Mrs. Burchell’s old merino and the folds of her shawl.
‘Oh, my dear, dear Cherry, if I could but tell you how I feel for you! How
little did we think when we last met——’
‘You are very kind,’ said Miss Cherry, drawing herself forth somewhat
limp and crushed from this embrace. ‘I am sure you are very kind.’ Her lips
quivered and the tears came to her eyes; but she was not so overwhelmed as
her consoler, who had begun to sob. ‘It is my poor brother I think of,’ said
Miss Cherry. ‘It is little to us in comparison with, what it is to him. I think of
him most; more than of poor Annie, who is safe out of all trouble.’
‘We must hope so, at least,’ said the Rector, shaking his head; and his
wife stopped sobbing, and interchanged a glance with him, which was full of
meaning.
‘Poor Mrs. James! It was so sudden. I fear there was no time for
preparation—no time even for thought?’
‘Men soon get the better of these things,’ said Miss Charity, ‘and the
more they feel it at the time the more easily they are cured. Cherry there will
think of her longer than her husband will. I don’t mean to say your grief’s so
great, my dear, but it will last.’
‘Oh, aunt, you do James injustice! He thought of nothing but Annie. The
light of his eyes is gone, and the comfort of his house, and all he cares for in
life.’
Here poor Miss Cherry, moved by her own eloquence, began to cry,
picturing to herself this dismal future. Nothing at Sunninghill was changed:
the room was as full of primroses as the woods were; great baskets of them
mingled with blue violets filled every corner; the sunshine came in
unclouded; the whole place was bright. It struck the tender-hearted woman
with sudden compunction: ‘We are not touched,’ she said; ‘we have
everything just the same as ever, as bright; but my poor James, in that house
by himself; and the child! Oh, Aunt Charity, when I think of him, I feel as if
my heart would break.’
Miss Charity took up her work and began to knit furiously. ‘He will get
over it,’ she said, ‘in time. It will be dreadful work at first; but he will get
over it. He has plenty of friends, both men and women. Don’t upset me with
your talk; he will get over it—men always do.’
 ‘And let us hope it will lead him to think more seriously,’ said Mrs.
Burchell. ‘Oh, I am sure if you thought my dear husband could be of any use
—we all know he has not been what we may call serious, and oh, dear Miss
Beresford, would not this affliction be a cheap price to pay for it, if it
brought him to a better state of mind?’
‘His wife’s life? It would be a high price for any advantage that would
come to him, I think. Dry your eyes, Cherry, and go and put on your bonnet.
This is Mr. Maxwell’s day, and you had better go back to town with him.’
‘Was it Mr. Maxwell who attended poor Mrs. James? I hope he is
considered a clever man.’
‘How oddly you good people speak! Do you want to insinuate that he is
not a clever man? He takes charge of my health, you know, and he has kept
me going long enough. Eh! yes, I am irritable, I suppose; we are all put out.
You good quiet folks, with all your children about, nothing happening to you
——’
‘Indeed, Miss Beresford, you do us great injustice,’ said Mrs. Burchell,
stung, as was natural, by such an assertion, while the Rector slowly shook
his head. ‘We do not complain; but perhaps if we were to tell all, as some
people do. Nothing happening to us!—ah, how little you know!’
‘Well, well, let us say you have a great many troubles; you can feel then
for other people. Ah, here is Mr. Maxwell. Don’t talk of me now; don’t think
of me, my good man. I am as well—as well—a great deal better than a poor
useless woman of nearly threescore and ten has any right to be when the
young are taken. How is James?’
The doctor, who had come in by the open window with a familiarity
which made the Rector and his wife look at each other, sat down by the old
lady’s side and began to talk to her. Miss Cherry had gone to put on her
bonnet, and by-and-by Mr. and Mrs. Burchell rose to take their leave.
‘I am so glad to hear that, sad as it was, it was a natural death, and one
that you expected,’ said the Rector, taking Maxwell aside for a moment.
The doctor stared at him, with somewhat fiery eyes. ‘A natural death?
Mrs. Beresford’s? What did you expect it to be?’
‘Oh, my dear sir, I don’t mean anything! We had heard very different
accounts—so many things are said——’
‘You should put a stop to them, then,’ said the other, who was not without
temper; and he and Miss Charity paused in their sadder talk, as the visitors
disappeared, to interchange some remarks about them which were not
complimentary.
‘What they can mean by making up such wicked lies, and putting a slur
on her memory, poor child!’ said the old lady with a sudden gush of hot
tears.
The doctor said something very hotly about ‘meddlesome parsons,’ and
hastily plunged again into descriptions of poor James. The other was not a
subject on which he could linger. ‘I never saw a man so broken-hearted; they
were always together; he misses her morning, noon, and night. Cherry must
come to him; she must come at once,’ he said, forgetting how long it was
since he had spoken of Cherry before by her Christian name. But Miss
Charity noticed it with the keen spectator instinct of her age, and ruminated
in an undercurrent of thought even while she thought of ‘poor James,’
whether Maxwell’s faith in Cherry ‘meant anything,’ or if new combinations
of life might be involved in the sequences of that death scene.
The same thought was in the minds of the clerical pair as they went down
the hill. ‘Will that come to anything?’ they said to each other.
‘It is a nice little property,’ said the Rector, ‘and I suppose she will have
everything.’
‘But if I was Cherry,’ said Mrs. Burchell, ‘I should not like to be thrown
at his head in that very open way. Going with him to town! It is as good as
offering her to him.’
‘She is no longer young, my dear,’ said the Rector, ‘and people now-a-
days have not your delicacy.’
‘Oh, I have no patience with their nonsense!’ she cried; ‘and their
friendships, forsooth—as if men and women could ever be friends!’
And it is possible that in other circumstances Miss Cherry’s tranquil soul
might have owned a flutter at thought of the escort which she accepted so
quietly to-day; but she was absorbed with thoughts of her brother and of the
possible use she might be, which was sweet to her, notwithstanding her grief.
Miss Charity shook her head doubtfully. ‘It is not Cherry that will help him,’
she said, ‘but the child will be the better of a woman in the house.’
Really that was what Mr. Maxwell wanted, a woman in the house;
something to speak to, something to refer everything to; something to blame
even, if things were not all right. The funeral was over, and all that dismal
business which appals yet gives a temporary occupation and support to the
sorrowful. And now the blank of common life had recommenced.
‘Perhaps she will not help him much; but she will be there,’ said the
doctor. He was glad for himself that a soft-voiced, soft-eyed, pitying creature
should be there. There was help in the mere fact, whatever she might say or
do.
Cara had been living a strange life through these melancholy days. She
had not known, poor child, the full significance of that scene by her mother’s
bedside, of which she had been a witness. She did not fully understand even
now: but glimmers of horrible intelligence had come to her during that
interview in the library, and the things she had heard afterwards from the
servants had enlightened her still more. She heard the whispers that
circulated among them, terrified whispers, said half under their breath. That
she had done it herself—that she knew, poor dear, what she was doing—that
if anything had been known, there would have been an inquest, and things
would have come out. This was what Cara heard breathing about in half
whispers, and which filled her with strange panic, lest her secret should
escape her. She knew the secret, and she only. Nobody had questioned her,
but the child’s impulse to tell had bound her very soul for days after. She had
resisted it, though she had felt guilty and miserable to know something
which no one else knew; but she had kept her secret. ‘Don’t let us brand her
with the name of suicide.’ These words seemed to ring in her ears night and
day. She repeated them over and over to herself. ‘Don’t let us brand her with
the name of suicide.’
‘No, no,’ poor Cara said to herself, trembling; ‘no, no:’ though this
premature and horrible secret weighed down her heart like a visible burden.
Oh, if she could but have told it to nurse, or to Aunt Cherry! but she must
not, not even to papa. When her aunt arrived, it was mingled torture and
relief to the poor child. She clung round her with sobbing, longing so to tell;
but even to cling and to sob was consolatory, and Aunt Cherry wanted no
explanation of that unusual depth of childish distress. ‘Cara was not like
other children,’ she said to herself. She had feelings which were deeper and
more tender. She was ‘sensitive,’ she was ‘nervous.’ She was more loving
than the ordinary children, who cry one moment and forget the next. And
kind Cherry, though her own grief was of the milder, secondary kind, as was
natural, had always tears of sympathy to give for the grief of others. She
took the little girl almost entirely into her own care, and would talk to her for
hours together; about being ‘good,’ about subduing all her little irritabilities,
in order to please mamma, who was in heaven, and would be grieved in her
happiness to think that her child was not ‘good.’ Cara was greatly awed and
subdued by this talk. It hushed her, yet set her wondering; and those
conversations were sometimes very strange ones, which went on between
the two in their melancholy and silent hours.
‘Does everybody go to heaven who dies?’ said Cara, with awe-stricken
looks.
Miss Cherry trembled a little, having some fear of false doctrine before
her eyes. ‘Everybody, I hope, who loves God. There are bad people, Cara;
but we don’t know them, you and I.’
‘Who love God? but I never think of God, Aunt Cherry. At least, I do
now; I wonder. But if they did not do that, would they still go to heaven all
the same?’
‘God loves us, dear,’ said Cherry, with the tears in her soft eyes. ‘Fathers
and mothers love their children, whether their children love them or not.
That is all we know.’
‘Whatever they do? if they even laugh, and go wrong? Yes,’ said Cara,
very thoughtfully, ‘I suppose papa would not send me away, out into the
dark, if I did ever so wrong.’
‘I am sure he would not; but you must not think of such things, dear; they
are too difficult for you. When you are older, you will understand better,’
Cherry said, faltering, and with something in her heart which contradicted
her; for did not the child ‘understand’ better than she?
Then Cara started another difficulty, quite as appalling; facing it with
innocent confidence, yet wonder: ‘What sort of a place,’ she asked, softly,
looking up with her blue eyes full of serious faith and awe, ‘is heaven?’
‘Oh, my dear,’ said Miss Cherry, ‘you ask me what I would give all I
have in the world to know! There are so many whom I love there.’
‘But what do you think? Often when one doesn’t know, one has an idea. I
don’t know Italy or India; but I imagine something. Aunt Cherry, tell me
what you think.’
‘Oh, Cara, my darling, I don’t know what it is like! I know there is no
trouble or pain in it; and that God is not so far off as here. No, He is not far
off here; but we can’t see Him; and we are such poor dull creatures. And I
think, Cara, I think that our Lord must be always about there. That people
may go and stand on the roadside and see Him pass, and talk to Him, and be
satisfied about everything.’
‘How—be satisfied about everything?’
‘Oh, child! I should not want anything more. He sees both sides, my
darling, both here and there, and understands. I am sure they must be able to
speak to Him, and go to Him, whenever they will——’
This thought brought great tears, a suffusion of utter wistfulness yet
heart-content, to Cherry’s eyes. Little Cara did not know very well what was
meant by such words. She did not understand this conception of the great
Creator as a better taught child might have done. But she said to herself, all
secretly: ‘If there is One like that, whether it is in heaven or earth, I might
tell Him, and it would be no harm.’
While Miss Cherry dried her eyes, her heart lightened by that
overflowing. Perhaps, though they had not seen Him, He had passed that
way, and heard the babble—what was it more?—between the woman and the
child.
 CHAPTER IX.

THE HILL.

After this a long interval passed, which it is needless to describe in detail.

Five years is a long time in a life; how much it does! Makes ties and breaks
them, gives life and withdraws it, finds you happy and leaves you miserable,
builds you up or plucks you down; and at the same time how little it does!
Buffets you, caresses you, plays at shuttlecock with you; yet leaves you the
same man or woman, unchanged. Most of this time James Beresford had
spent in absences, now here, now there; not travels according to the old
happy sense, though in a real and matter-of-fact sense they were more travels
than those he had made so happily in the honeymooning days. But he did not
like to use the word. He called his long voyages absences, nothing more.
And they were of a very different kind from those expeditions of old. He
avoided the Continent as if pestilence had been there, and would not even
cross it to get the mail at Brindisi, but went all the way round from
Southampton when he went to the East. He went up the Nile, with a
scientific party, observing some phenomena or other. He went to America in
the same way. He was not a very good sailor, but he made up his mind to
that as the best way of fighting through those lonely years. Once he went as
far north as any but real Arctic explorers, with their souls in it, had ever
done. Once he tracked the possible path of Russia across the wildest border
wastes to the Indian frontier. He went everywhere languidly but persistently,
seldom roused, but never discouraged. A man may be very brave outside,
though he is not brave within; and weakness is linked to strength in ways
beyond our guessing. He went into such wilds once, that they gave him an
‘ovation’ at the Geographical Society’s meeting, not because of any
information he had brought them, or anything he had done, but because he
had been so far off, where so few people had ever been. And periodically he
came back to the Square; he would not leave that familiar house. His wife’s
drawing-room was kept just as she had liked it, though no one entered the
room: the cook and John the butler, who had married, having the charge of
everything. And when Mr. Beresford came back to England, he went home,
living downstairs generally, with one of his travelling companions to bear
him company. Maxwell and he had dropped apart. They were still by way of
being fast friends, and doubtless, had one wanted the other, would still have
proved so—last resource of friendship, in which the severed may still hope.
But, as nothing happened to either, their relations waxed cold and distant.
The doctor had never got clear of the suspicion which had risen in his mind
at Mrs. Beresford’s death. It is true that had James Beresford given the poor
lady that ‘strong sweet dose’ she once had asked for, Maxwell would have
forgiven his friend with all his heart. I do not know, in such a strange case,
what the doctor could have done; probably exactly as he did afterwards do,
invent a death-certificate which might be accepted as possible, though it was
not in accordance with the facts. But, anyhow, he would have taken up
warmly, and stood by his friend to his last gasp. This being the case, it is
impossible to tell on what principle it was that Maxwell half hated
Beresford, having a lurking suspicion that he had done it—a suspicion
contradicted by his own statement and by several of the facts. But this was
the case. The man who would have helped his wife boldly, heart-brokenly, to
escape from living agony, was one thing; but he who would give her a fatal
draught, or connive at her getting it, and then veil himself so that no one
should know, was different. So Mr. Maxwell thought. The inconsistency
might be absurd; but it was so. They positively dropped out of acquaintance.
The men who visited James Beresford when he was at home, were men with
tags to their names, mystic initials, F.G.S.’s, F.R.S.’s, F.S.A.’s, and others of
that class. And Maxwell, who was his oldest friend, dropped off. He said to
himself that if Beresford ever wanted him badly, he would find his
friendship surviving. But Beresford did not want Maxwell nor Maxwell
Beresford; and thus they were severed for a suspicion which would not have
severed them had it been a reality, or so at least Maxwell thought. The doctor
still went down once a week regularly to visit Miss Charity, and so kept up
his knowledge of the family; but ‘nothing came’ of the old fancy that had
been supposed to exist between him and Cherry. They all hardened down
unconsciously, these middle-aged folk, in their various ways. The doctor
became a little rougher, a little redder, a trifle more weather-beaten; and
Miss Cherry grew imperceptibly more faded, more slim, more prim. As for
Miss Charity, being now over seventy, she was younger than ever; her
unwrinkled cheeks smoother, her blue eyes as blue, her step almost more
alert, her garden more full of roses. ‘After seventy,’ she tersely said, ‘one
gets a new lease.’ And Mrs. Burchell, at the Rectory, was a little stouter, and
her husband a little more burly, and both of them more critical. Fifty is
perhaps a less amiable age than three-score and ten. I am not sure that it is
not the least amiable age of all; the one at which nature begins to resent the
fact of growing old. Of all the elder generation, James Beresford was the one
to whom it made least change, notwithstanding that he was the only one who
had ‘come through’ any considerable struggle. He was still speculative, still
fond of philosophical talk, still slow to carry out to logical conclusions any
of the somewhat daring theories which he loved to play with. He was as little
affected as ever by what he believed and what he did not believe.
As for Cara, however, these five years had made a great difference to her;
they had widened the skies over her head and the earth under her feet.
Whereas she had been but twelve, a child, groping and often in the dark,
now she was seventeen, and every new day that rose was a new wonder to
her. Darkness had fled away, and the firmament all around her quivered and
trembled with light; night but pretended to be, as in summer, when twilight
meets twilight, and makes the moment of so-called midnight and darkness
the merriest and sweetest of jests. Everything was bright around her feet, and
before her in that flowery path which led through tracts of sunshine. She was
no more afraid of life than the flowers are. Round about her the elders, who
were her guides, and ought to have been her examples, were not, she might
have perceived, had she paused to think, exuberantly happy. They had no
blessedness to boast of, nor any exemption from common ills; but it no more
occurred to Cara to think that she, she could ever be like her good Aunt
Cherry, or Mrs. Burchell, than that she could be turned into a blue bird, like
the prince in the fairy tale. The one transformation would have been less
wonderful than the other. She had lived chiefly at Sunninghill during her
father’s absence, and it was a favourite theory with the young Burchells, all
but two (there were ten of them), that she would progress in time to be the
Miss Cherry, and then the Miss Charity, of that maiden house. A fate was
upon it, they said. It was always to be in the hands of a Miss Beresford, an
old-maidish Charity, to be transmitted to another Charity after her. This was
one of the favourite jokes of the rectorial household, warmly maintained
except by two, i.e. Agnes, the eldest, a young woman full of aspirations; and
Roger, the second boy, who had aspirations too, or rather who had one
aspiration, of which Cara was the object. She would not die Charity
Beresford if he could help it; but this was a secret design of which nobody
knew. Cara’s presence, it may be supposed, had made a great deal of