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Casper Lassenius
Torgeir Dingsøyr
Maria Paasivaara (Eds.)
Agile Processes,
LNBIP 212
in Software Engineering,
and Extreme Programming
16th International Conference, XP 2015
Helsinki, Finland, May 25–29, 2015
Proceedings
123
Lecture Notes
in Business Information Processing 212
Series Editors
Wil van der Aalst
Eindhoven Technical University, Eindhoven, The Netherlands
John Mylopoulos
University of Trento, Povo, Italy
Michael Rosemann
Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane, QLD, Australia
Michael J. Shaw
University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, IL, USA
Clemens Szyperski
Microsoft Research, Redmond, WA, USA
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/7911
Casper Lassenius · Torgeir Dingsøyr
Maria Paasivaara (Eds.)
Agile Processes,
in Software Engineering,
and Extreme Programming
16th International Conference, XP 2015
Helsinki, Finland, May 25–29, 2015
Proceedings
ABC
Editors
Casper Lassenius Maria Paasivaara
Aalto University Aalto University
Espoo Espoo
Finland Finland
Torgeir Dingsøyr
SINTEF
Trondheim
Norway
This volume contains the papers presented at XP 2015: the 16th International Con-
ference on Agile Software Development held during May 25–29, 2015 in Helsinki,
Finland.
While agile development already has become mainstream in industry, it is a field
that is constantly evolving and that continues to spur an enormous interest both in in-
dustry and academia. The XP conference series has, and continues to play, an important
role in bridging the academic and practitioner communities, providing a forum for both
formal and informal sharing and development of ideas, experiences, and opinions.
The theme of XP 2015 — Delivering value: Moving from Cyclic to Continuous
Value Delivery reflects the modern trend toward organizations that are simultaneously
very efficient and flexible in software development and delivery.
The XP 2015 program includes research papers, experience reports, industry and
practice sessions, scientific workshops, panels, lightning talks, technical demos, posters,
and a doctoral symposium. In total over all submission types, we received almost 300
proposals, showing that the XP community indeed is vibrant and active.
This proceedings volume contains the full research papers, short research papers,
and experience reports. In addition, we included the abstracts of select posters, extended
abstracts of the PhD symposium presentations, as well as the position statements of the
panel participants.
All of the submitted research papers went through a rigorous peer-review process.
Each paper was reviewed by three members of the Program Committee. We received
44 research papers, out of which 15 (34%) were accepted as full papers and 7 as short
papers.
We received 45 experience report proposals, out of which 11 (24%) were accepted
following the review process. Each accepted experience report proposal received the
guidance of an experienced shepherd in writing the final paper.
We would like to extend our thank you to all the people who have contributed to
XP 2015 and helped make it a success: the authors, the sponsors, the reviewers, the
volunteers, and the chairs. We hope you enjoy the conference!
Organizing Committee
General Chair
Maria Paasivaara Aalto University, Finland
Academic Chairs
Torgeir Dingsøyr SINTEF, Norway
Casper Lassenius Aalto University, Finland
Scientific Workshops
Daniela S. Cruzes SINTEF, Norway
Casper Lassenius Aalto University, Finland
Experience Reports
Rebecca Wirfs-Brock Wirfs-Brock Associates, USA
Ken Power Cisco Systems, Ireland
Technical Demos
Kari Systä Tampere University of Technology, Finland
Panels
Steve Fraser Independent Consultant, USA
Open Space
Charlie Poole Independent Consultant, USA
Doctoral Symposium
Peggy Gregory University of Central Lancashire, UK
Helen Sharp The Open University, UK
Posters
Andrey Maglyas Lappeenranta University of Technology, Finland
Ville T. Heikkilä Aalto University, Finland
Local Organization
Local Organizing Chair
Juha Itkonen Aalto University, Finland
Event Manager
Mary-Ann Wikström Aalto University, Finland
Web Masters
Ville T. Heikkilä Aalto University, Finland
Eero Laukkanen Aalto University, Finland
Organization IX
Sponsoring Institutions
Platinum Sponsors
Aalto University, Finland
Ericsson, Finland
Reaktor, Finland
Gold Sponsors
Nitor, Finland
Nokia, Finland
Omenia, Finland
Silver Sponsor
Agilefant, Finland
Contents
Short Papers
Experience Reports
Panels
Posters
Teaching Scrum – What We Did, What We Will Do and What Impedes Us . . . . 361
Emil Alégroth, Håkan Burden, Morgan Ericsson, Imed Hammouda,
Eric Knauss, and Jan-Philipp Steghöfer
1 Introduction
Different tools and techniques can be used for agile development. In our work, we
focus our attention on the development of a tool to select and suggest the best
refactorings of duplicated code. Duplicated code involves all non-trivial software
systems; the percentage of involved duplicated lines is usually estimated between
5 % and 20 %, sometimes reaching even 50 % [1,2]. Fowler [3] suggests that code
duplication is a bad smell and one of the major indicators of poor maintainability.
With the concept of “clone”we mean a code fragment duplicated in several
locations within a software system with several similarity degrees. We consider
“Cloning” as a synonym of “duplicating code”, both identifying the activity
of introducing clones of a code fragment within a software system. Anyway, a
shared definition of “similarity” does not exist, resulting in the lack of a rigorous
definition of clone [1,2]. Different types of cloned have been identified in the
literature, providing a clone classification involving the amount and the way a
code fragment is duplicated. The most commonly accepted classification is the
one of Roy et al. [4], which identifies four types of clones (we describe Type-1
and Type-3 of clones, the ones we detect through our approach, in Section 3.2).
c Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015
C. Lassenius et al. (Eds.): XP 2015, LNBIP 212, pp. 3–14, 2015.
DOI: 10.1007/978-3-319-18612-2 1
4 F.A. Fontana et al.
The main problems related to code duplication are, e.g., the uncontrolled
spread of yet-to-know bugs, resulting in heavy correction time cost when discov-
ered, and heavy update time cost, when modification of an important part of a
code fragment implies modification of all duplicated fragments.
Even if duplication may not always be avoided, it is considered a serious
problem, mainly from a maintenance perspective. Many works investigated in
depth the factors causing its insertion, or provided taxonomies according to
several criteria and detection techniques, but just few works examined its man-
agement procedures [1]. Many sources suggest to fully delegate correction activ-
ities to developers’ experience and judgement [1,2], and assert the importance
of the “human in the loop” concept [3,5]. These assertions follow the aware-
ness that every modification to a software system must consider and respect the
design choices of that system. Furthermore, design choices are not easily cap-
tured within automated procedures. During duplicated code management, two
main decisional steps involve design aspects:
1. the choice of which instances are worth to be refactored and which are not,
2. the choice of which technique should be applied to remove a duplication
instance, once the instance has been evaluated as refactoring-worthy.
3 DCRA Approach
The main features characterizing our approach are the following:
– the extension of Golomingi’s [5] scenario set with further recurring locations,
– the analysis of the location of each clone pair, resulting in a specific set of
applicable refactoring techniques (see Tables 1 and 2),
– the ranking of the applicable refactoring techniques, based on a score weight-
ing different criteria,
– the aggregation of the information about clones and refactorings, on the
more critical clones, and on the best refactorings, according to numerical
criteria.
Table 2. DCRA locations and refactoring suggestions (remaining locations have only
the LU suggestion)
common external class, i.e., a class belonging to external libraries. This addition
is significant; in fact, our dedicated analysis reported in Section 3.2 revealed that
over 1/3 of all detected duplications is related to this location. Golomingi’s app-
roach classifies those instances as UNRELATED CLASS, therefore not manage-
able through an automatic procedure. SAME EXTERNAL SUPERCLASS and
SIBLING CLASS have similar characteristics, and share the same refactoring
suggestions. Anonymous classes are recurring examples of SAME EXTERNAL
SUPERCLASS instances, since they usually extend class Object.
cohesive units than blocks, featuring higher reusability. As a result, the detection
procedure of DCRA was configured to detect:
– Type-1 (identical code fragments, only white space differences allowed) and
Type-3 clones (code fragments with added, removed or modified statements);
– block-level clones, for their diffusion, and because they include method-level
clones.
The design and implementation efforts were focused on the locations reported
in Table 2. Also Fowler’s suggestions are mainly related to these four locations.
For all other locations, only “Leave unchanged” is suggested.
Listing 1. DCRA toy example: clone pair Listing 2. DCRA toy example: refactor-
public class SuperClass {} ing preview of the clone pair
public class SubCls1
extends SuperClass { public class SuperClass {
public void method () {
int a = 0; public void method () {
int b = 1; int a = 0;
a ++; int b = 1;
b ++; a ++;
System . out . print ( a + b ); b ++;
} System . out . print ( a + b );
} }
public class SubCls2
extends SuperClass { }
public void method () {
int a = 0; public class SubCls1
int b = 1; extends SuperClass {}
a ++;
b ++; public class SubCls2
System . out . print ( a + b ); extends SuperClass {}
}
} .
– variables used in each clone, labelled using their declaration position and
usage;
– length of each clone, cloned lines and different lines (NiCad only reports the
total length of the longest clone);
10 F.A. Fontana et al.
Regarding the first point, the declaration position was classified in the follow-
ing categories: 1) inside the clone, 2) outside the clone but within its container
method, 3) class attribute, 4) inherited attribute; the usage, instead, was clas-
sified using these other categories: 1) used after clone but within its container
method, 2) read within clone, 3) modified within clone. These criteria were taken
from Higo et al. [11], and applied to our location-based classification, obtaining
a more precise characterization of each clone pair.
The Refactoring Advisor uses the Clone Detailer output to choose the possible
refactoring techniques for each clone pair.
We introduce now the “coupled entity” concept: when clones access variables
or attributes from their local scope (e.g., their container class or method), and
the application of a refactoring would move the code in a different scope, the
reference to those variables or attributes may increase the coupling level of the
refactored clone. A coupled entity is any of these variable or attribute references.
They are evaluated differently for each refactoring kind, because each refactoring
applies different transformations to the code. Coupled entities make the applica-
tion of a refactoring more costly, or not possible without changing the visibility
or placement of variables in the system.
The Refactoring Advisor works independently on each clone pair. First, it
selects all refactoring techniques applicable to the clone pair on the base of
its location, granularity, type and coupled entities. Second, it ranks the selected
techniques, relying on a score based on two criteria: i) relative LOC variation, ii)
compliance to OOP (inheritance, polymorphism and encapsulation). The score
is calculated as the average of two weights, one for each criterion, evaluating the
compliance to each principle. In our example, “Pull up method” would modify
the code as shown in Listing 2. We compute the two weights by evaluating the
code after the refactoring w.r.t. the original. In the following, we explain how
the two weights, i.e., LOC variation and OOP compliance are computed.
Equation 1 defines the refactoring evaluation score. The LOC variation is
obtained (Equation 2) as the ratio of LOC before and after the application of
the refactoring, normalized to the [−1, +1] range. OOP compliance (Equation 3)
is calculated as the average of the values assigned to its three principles: encap-
sulation, inheritance, polymorphism; each value is in the [−1, +1] range, and
has been manually determined for each refactoring during the assessment phase
of the DCRA development. Values (−1, 0, +1) correspond respectively to: the
maximum possible deterioration, no variation, the maximum improvement.
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such an affection he should draw golden results. That Blanche did not
return the captain's love, he was firmly convinced—and yet that conviction
could not allay his jealousy. Awful moral perplexity and corruption!
Despicable weakness and meanness! Here was a man base enough to barter
his honour, yet not strong enough to resist the petty irritation of the pettiest
jealousy!
CHAPTER VII.
The last few weeks had completely banished from her heart all hope of
an amendment. Not only had Cecil shamelessly applied to Heath for money
in advance on a picture which he had made no attempt even to commence;
but he had, by one act, opened her eyes to the extent of his reckless
infatuation.
It was about a fortnight after Captain Heath's visit, when, as Cecil sat in
his usual attitude over the fire, indolently smoking a cigar, Blanche said to
him,—
"When are you going to paint that picture, dearest, which you have
engaged for?"
"He did not stipulate that it was to be done at once, did he?"
"No; but there can be no reason why you should not do it. You have
nothing else in hand. Besides, when that is finished you can paint another;
and you know how badly we want money."
"I do not like to accept the advances he makes us, when I see you not
working at the picture."
"Bah!"
"You must do it sooner or later; why not now? Come, Cecil, make an
effort—begin it."
"Begin when I haven't even money to buy the necessary materials. Write
to him and tell him I have a splendid subject, but that really——"
"That is unnecessary. I have money—I will go and get you all you
want."
"Oh, I'm not curious; so that you have got money, that is all I care about.
How much?"
"There again! Not curious! Why, you are as curious as a woman. Don't
inquire."
She went into the next room, and he heard her unlock a drawer. He
continued calmly smoking; she put on her bonnet and tripped down stairs.
No sooner did he hear the street door shut than he rose and walked into
her bed-room to search for the money. He saw a drawer with a key in it, but
on opening it he found nothing there. He next unlocked all the other
drawers, but without result.
There was nothing now in the room likely to conceal any money, and he
began to think that perhaps she had only a few shillings, which she had
carried away with her. Almost mechanically he opened the small drawer of
her wash-hand stand, and there he saw six sovereigns glittering in the
farther corner. His face lighted up with a strange expression as they met his
eye, and rapidly clutching them, and turning over the drawer to see if it
concealed any more, he took his hat, and was out of the house in an instant.
When Blanche returned and found him gone, her heart misgave her;
with trembling limbs she staggered into the bed-room—opened the drawer
—and saw her fears confirmed. It is impossible to render the despair which
seized her at this discovery. That little incident was more frightful to her,
was more damning evidence of the unconquerable nature of his vice than
any she had yet known; and helpless, hopeless she sank upon the bed, not to
weep, but to brood upon the awful prospect of her life.
It was not grief which laid her prostrate, it was a stupor: a dull, heavy
agony, like a shroud closing her from life, from hope, from happiness.
Before, her heart had been wrung; she had been humiliated, she had been
tortured; but in the bitterest moments, she had never been utterly prostrate,
—never absolutely without gleam of hope. Now, her husband stood before
her as irreclaimable,—marching with frightful rapidity to his doom, and
dragging with him, a wife and child.
That child's cries on awaking, partly aroused her. She felt the necessity
for an effort; she felt that another demanded she should not give way to the
stupor which oppressed her. She put the child to her breast; but, alas! the
shock she had received had dried up its life-giving fountains, and the
disappointed infant sucked in vain. Tears gushed from her, as she became
aware of this new misfortune—tears, scalding yet refreshing tears, which
melted down her stubborn grief into something more like human woe; and
relieved by them, she rose to make some food for the hungry babe, whose
impatient cries recalled her to a sense of duties, which allowed not the
passive indulgence of sorrow. Cecil, meanwhile, had lost the little treasure
he had obtained possession of in so despicable a manner; and having lost it,
remained sauntering about the streets, without courage to return home to
face his wife. Exhausted at last by fatigue, he came back.
Not a word passed between them. He got into bed feeling humbled and
exasperated, yet not having courage even to put a bullying face on the
matter. She was brushing her hair, and he heard the sighs which she
struggled to suppress, but he feigned sleep, and would not hear them.
She crept into bed, anxious not to awake him; and through the long
night he heard her weeping, so that it almost broke his heart: yet he feigned
sleep, and dared not speak!
From that time, there was always a sort of barrier between them. A wall
had grown up between their loves, formed out of shame, remorse, pity and
hopelessness. They never alluded to the incident which caused it; but they
both felt that it was constantly present in each other's minds.
Their existence was wretched indeed. Vyner and Julius took care that
Blanche should want for no necessities—food, clothing, little articles of
necessity were all regularly sent in by them; and the rent was paid by Vyner
himself. But no more money could Cecil extort from them on any pretext.
They knew well enough, that to give him money was only to give him
opportunities of playing, and so they limited their charity to seeing that
Blanche and her child, were not in absolute want.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FORGERY.
The contrast between his appearance at that moment, and the last time
Cecil had seen him, when in the final stage of seediness, he had gambled
away even his dinner, so amazed Cecil, that he rubbed his eyes as one
awaking from a dream.
"Ah! Cis, my boy, how are you?" said Frank, grasping him by the hand.
"Why, you're quite a stranger.—I am so glad to see you. Flourishing now,
damn my whiskers! flourishing, Cis, as you perceive. Nobby style, eh?
Correct thing that, I hope."
"Oh! tell you that presently. Just step up the arcade with me.—I'm only
going to look in upon Jeffs, to see if Paul de Kock's last novel has arrived,
and then command me."
He put his arm within Cecil's, and marched up the arcade, playing with
an elegant watch-chain which drooped from his waistcoat button, and
winking at every woman they passed.
When they turned into Jeffs' shop, that worthy bibliopole, albeit
accustomed daily to a strange variety of customers, from noblemen and
their flunkies, to dingy, sallow, foreigners, redolent of garlic, and bearded
like pards, opened his eyes at such a strange apparition as the resplendent,
insolent Frank, arm in arm with the careworn, battered, shabby, Cecil.
"I think your to-morrow never arrives—at any rate, your case doesn't
arrive with it. Is your case a pleasing fiction, or a reality?"
"Certainly, sir."
"You are quite a grand seigneur, I perceive, Frank," said Cecil, as they
strolled out of the shop. "Cab—tiger—chains—French novels—have you
come into an inheritance?"
"Something like it, but jump into my cab, and I'll tell you all about it."
They got in, and Frank, handling the reins with no small degree of
pride, drove into the Park, and thus explained his present fortune.
"The fact is, Cis, I have discovered the true method of playing. I broke
the bank at No. 14, last Saturday; and have won no trifle since. You see all
the martingales yet invented have some inherent imperfection. They go
smoothly enough in theory; but damn the practice, say I!"
"Perfectly. But I don't so clearly see how you must win at it."
"Bah—that's the very best proof! In every martingale, don't you on the
contrary clearly see how you must win, but does that prevent your losing
when you begin to play? So, you may not see how I must win, but I see how
I do win—that's enough for me."
They dined together that day, and Frank, who had a box at Drury Lane,
proposed that Cecil should accompany him, but Cecil was too unwell, and
went home brooding on his friend's prosperity, and playing imaginary
games with fantastic success.
All the next day he was moody and irritable. He would not even notice
his child, but walked up and down his small room, or sat with his feet on
the fender, cowering over the fire, his head buried in his hands.
On the morrow he received a cold, firm answer from the captain, who
stated that he had already advanced as much money on the picture as he
could afford to pay for it, and that he was therefore forced to refuse.
Blanche guessed the contents by that action; but she made no remark.
For at least an hour did he sit looking fixedly on the ground, keeping the
crumpled letter in his closed hand; and then she saw him slowly open it,
smooth the paper, and examine it attentively. While she was thus watching
his countenance, curious as to what could be his motive for examining so
minutely a handwriting he knew, he suddenly looked up at her. A strange
expression distorted his face as he shouted,—
"What's that to you?" he said brusquely, and again turned away his head.
"No."
His agitation and the eager manner with which he caught up some
scraps of paper, and threw them into the fire, did not escape her.
He sat down to dinner, but he could not swallow a morsel; and his hand
shook so, that he dared not venture to raise it to his mouth.
"You are ill, dearest," she said. "I am sure you are."
"Do not go out such weather as this; see how fast the snow falls."
She dared not further interpose; and in a few minutes he was gone.
Left alone, she meditated on the singular change in his manner—on his
fierceness when he had observed her watching him—his paleness—his
agitation—and his throwing those pieces of paper into the fire.
She opened his writing-case. There, among some loose pieces of blank
paper, she found one with some writing on it. A film overspread her eyes, as
she recognised in it a copy of Captain Heath's writing—so like it, that had
not the characters been traced on a stray slip of paper, she could never have
suspected it to be other than his writing.
Rushing upon her like an overwhelming tide, came the swift and terrible
thoughts which revealed that her husband had committed a forgery. In the
desperate hope that she might not yet be too late to save him from the last
act—that she might yet meet him at the banker's and save him—she threw a
shawl around her, put on her bonnet, and in an instant she was in a cab
driving furiously to Charing Cross; in her anxiety too much excited to feel
the horror of her situation.
As the cab dashed round the corner, by Charles the First's statue, she
saw Cecil hurry from Messrs. Drummonds' banking-house. She saw no
more: her brain swam round. When the driver opened the cab door, he
found her in a swoon.
It did not last long: she recovered herself; and wildly looking round her,
remembered in an instant all that had passed.
To Captain Heath's she drove, and astonished the servant very much by
hurrying up stairs, and rushing into the room as if life and death depended
on her speed.
It was a long time before she could speak; and even then, in such
incoherent sentences that it was with difficulty Heath understood what she
meant to tell him; but he found that it was something terrible, and about
Cecil; and he redoubled his attention, trying to piece together into a
coherent narrative, the broken utterances of this wretched wife.
At last he understood her, and tears of deep compassion stood in his
eyes as he said,—
"Cheer up, dear Blanche, cheer up! It is not so bad after all. You
terrified me at first. He has only drawn on me in anticipation. You know I
still owe him money for the picture,—he has paid himself,—he was
doubtless close pressed."
"He has been irregular, that is all; he should have warned me of it.
However, now you have told me, it is all safe. Quiet yourself."
"Courage, courage."
"Do you not see, that now I am informed of what has passed I shall be
on my guard? He has been imprudent; no one knows it but ourselves. You
can gently point out to him the imprudence—and he is saved. Only
yesterday I heard of a situation for him in the Colonies—an excellent place.
Away from England, he will have broken from his present connexion, and
lose his unfortunate habits. A new sphere will call forth fresh energy. He
may be saved yet, Blanche; only take courage."
She took his hand, and kissed it in mute thankfulness, but her sobs still
tore her bosom, and all his persuasion could not calm her.
Now that she felt the great danger was past, she had time to feel the
immensity of the blow—she could grieve.
Heath allowed her to weep without trying to soothe her; for he saw that
the great crisis was over; and silently compassionating the sorrow of this
broken-hearted creature, to dry whose eyes, he would have sold the world,
he sat by her side holding her hand, from time to time replying to its
convulsive pressure.
He could not, in his sympathy with her, forbear picturing to himself the
contrast of what her fate would have been had she married him instead of
Cecil; nor could he refrain from bitterly commenting on the truth of his own
prophecies that Cecil would make her unhappy. No lover ever believes that
his beloved can possibly be happy with his rival; but Heath had too clearly
read Cecil's character, not to feel assured that, rivalry out of the question,
Blanche was badly matched in wedding one so weak and selfish.
CHAPTER IX.
RUIN.
He had dishonoured himself to play this new game which Frank had
explained to him, and now that the crime was committed he could not profit
by it!
Such a game required, above all others, consummate coolness, and self-
mastery; Cecil was more agitated, his brain was more confused than ever it
had been, and he played utterly at random. It would be difficult to conceive
greater torture than that which he endured, for he won without satisfaction,
and lost with agony; his brain was not so confused but that he had a distinct
perception of his situation, and of the necessity for playing every coup as if
for life; but at the same time his brain was so drugged with horror and
despair, that his will seemed paralyzed, and he was forced, as by an unseen
hand, into the ruin which he saw yawning before him.
While the cards were dealt with mechanical precision by the impassive
dealer, and Cecil's crime-furnished gold was passing away before his eyes,
visions of his happy youth, of his early days of marriage, and healthy
activity, floated before his mind; and he, the gambler, on the edge of that
dark gulph which gaped before him, turned back his thoughts to those
sunny days when his soul was stainless, and his life was full of love and
hope, of activity and happiness; it was like a small wild flower on a mass of
loosening rock, which the next gust of wind will quite unloosen, and tumble
thundering into the ravine.
He thought of his mother, and of her dying injunctions, and her words
of blessing fell upon his ear, just as the dealer in his passionless voice
proclaimed,—
"Black wins."
For hours did this tortured gamester play, becoming gradually inured to
the pain he suffered, and deadened to the whispers of his conscience.
It was now eleven o'clock. The room was full of players. A succession
of new faces replaced those who one by one fell off, contented with their
winnings, or, and this was by far the most frequent case, desperate from
their losses. But Cecil never moved. He called for wine occasionally, but
nothing interrupted his play.
His last three sovereigns were staked upon the black: his life was on the
hazard of that one deal. Even the old players, accustomed to every species
of intense emotion, could not keep their eyes off Cecil, as with parted lips,
straining eyes, and purple face, he watched the rapid progress of the game.
Intensely they felt the moment was supreme.
He lost!
In that moment which had preceded his wild laugh, a vision of his
young wife and child destitute,—starving,—thinned with want and
sickness, had appeared to him, and, as in a flash, revealed to him the
hideous extent of his ruin.
"Now then, my dear, are you going to rush into my arms without an
invitation?
The fumes of bad wine poisoned the breath of the speaker, but the tones
struck so strangely upon Cecil's ears, that they arrested him even on the
path of death.
He seized her by the wrist, and dragged her under a lamp-post. As the
light fell upon both their faces, and he recognised in the wretched woman
arrayed in the garb of shame, the Hester Mason whom he had known so
prosperous and ambitious—and, as she recognised in the emaciated haggard
wreck before her, the only man she had ever loved, he gasped with
inexpressible emotion, she wept with intense shame.
CHAPTER X.
The cause of Hester's degradation was one which always has, and one
fears always will, people our streets with those unhappy women, whom the
law refuses either to acknowledge or to suppress—refuses either to protect
or to punish: a lasting stigma upon our civilization!
When Sir Chetsom Chetsom was killed, she had to look about her for
means of subsistence; and at first imagined that literature would be an
ample field.
Hester had no good friends; she had many acquaintances, but no one
who interested himself in her success, no one, at any rate, who both could
and would assist her. Moreover, she was not "respectable;" and what was
the consequence? dissolute editors were afraid of her contributions "on the
score of morals."
This is always the case when a fallen daughter returns home, or when
she commits the one unpardonable fault, and stays at home: her parents, her
brothers, and sisters—oh! especially the sisters—never forget that fault. It is
held over her head in terrorem. It is an ever-present warning and
illustration. Bridling up in their unshaken chastity—too often unshaken
because untempted—the sisters make her feel in a hundred ways, that her
fault is unpardoned and unpardonable. Exasperated by this incessant and
unjust retribution for a fault which the girl feels deserves more pity, she is at
last driven from home and takes refuge in the streets, because her virtuous
family cannot forget!
It has been often remarked that women are more pitiless towards each
other, on that very point where common sympathy should make them most
tolerant; and little do they know the extent of the mischief their intolerance
creates.
Hester had not to suffer from the sneers and allusions of chaste and
offended sisters, but she had to endure worse—the sneers and slights of the
whole offended town. The reader remembers how Walton was scandalized
at her flirtation, how shocked at her flight; let him then imagine the howl of
outraged purity which saluted her repentant return! She, indeed, come back
to a town she had disgraced! She to show herself amongst the daughters of
respectable people! She to be allowed to wallow in corruption, and then as
soon as she found that course led to no good, to return again to her home as
if nothing had occurred! The minx!
Mrs. Ruddles hoped her husband would take notice of it from the pulpit:
such an example as it was to other girls!
The post-mistress hoped she was as charitable as most people, but she
knew what was due to herself, and as long as that creature remained in
Walton, she, the post-mistress, could not think of purchasing anything at her
father's shop.
Mrs. Ruddles had never for an instant thought of such a thing. It would
be a positive encouragement. Mrs. Ruddles herself had daughters. She knew
something, she thought, of what constituted a well-regulated mind. She had
no fears for her Arabella, Mary, and Martha Jane; but Mrs. Ruddles knew
the ill effects of example.
When Hester appeared in the street, all the women instantly crossed to
the other side. If she went into a shop to make a purchase, the shop
immediately became empty. Women avoided her as if she were a walking
pestilence.
En revanche the men ogled her with effrontery, and even middle-aged
rotundities with large families, gave themselves killing airs when in her
presence.
The stupid ignorance of men! I declare the older I grow the more
amazed I am at the dull, purblind, inexcusable ignorance in which one-half
of the human race seems destined to remain with respect to the other half, in
spite of all experience. To meet with a man who has not some gross
prejudice, founded on the most blundering misconception with regard to the
nature of women, and on that point, too, which one would imagine they
would best understand, is really one of the rarest occurrences. The vast
majority of men never seem to escape from the ideas they form about
women at school; and no contradiction in the shape of experience seems to
suggest to them that those ideas are essentially false. To hear men—and
men of the world too—talk about women, is to hear the strangest
absurdities and platitudes you can listen to on any subject; to be let into the
secret of their conduct towards women, is only to see the ludicrous results
to which such erroneous opinions lead them.
Hester Mason having committed a faux pas, was instantly, and from that
very cause, looked upon by all the men, young and old, as a woman "to be
had for the asking." In their simplicity, they could admit of no gradations
between a Lucretia and Messalina. If a woman were not as chaste as ice,
she must necessarily be utterly abandoned. If one man had succeeded in
overcoming her scruples, of course another might. The dolts!
If women were not purer, stronger, and honester than the dull and coarse
imaginations of most men depict them, what a world this would be! what
children would these women bring forth!
Those men who have known women, known how great their influence
for good and for evil, known what a well of feeling, of pure, spontaneous
nature, untarnished by contact with the world, there lies hidden in a
woman's breast; those who have known how this nature has moulded their
own minds, refined its coarseness, giving beauty to its strength, will
exclaim with me: what a world would this be were women what men
generally suppose them!
Here is Hester Mason, certainly not a good specimen of her sex: vain,
capricious, wilful, sensual, perverted by sounding sophisms respecting the
rights of women, and the injustice of the marriage laws; she acts up to her
opinions, and throws herself away upon a rich and titled noodle for the sake
of furthering her ambitious projects; she finds out her mistake, returns home
repentant, and instantly a number of ill-conditioned, coarse-minded, coarse-
mannered men imagine she cannot hesitate to stoop to them! Believing that
she acted from unrestrained licentiousness, they interpreted one act, in this
school-boy fashion, and hoped to profit by her weakness. But they found
out their mistake; or rather never found it out, for they attributed her refusal
to viler motives than those to which they would have attributed her consent.
The insult of their proposals struck deep into her heart—deeper far than
the scorn of her own sex; and it made her so wretched, that, at last, it drove
her once more from her home. Yes, home became insupportable, and in a
moment of desperation she fled; fled to London, and there endeavoured to
seek oblivion in the turbulent vortex of a career which one shudders to
contemplate.
Of all the tortures, of all the humiliations to which she had submitted,
none equalled that of meeting Cecil. In her strange unhappy life there had
been but one short dream, and that was her love for Cecil; even when he
had rejected her love, and humiliated her by his rejection, she still felt
towards him something of that elevating, purifying attachment which forms
a sort of serene heaven smiling upon the most abject condition—which is,
as it were, the ideal region where the purest, brightest thoughts take refuge.
And to meet him in the streets—to appear before his eyes in the flaunting
finery of disgrace—to let him see the abyss into which she had fallen! Poor
girl! if her errors had no other expiation than that, bitterly would she have
expiated them.
CHAPTER XI.
The snow fell in large flakes that cold January night; and as each flake
sank gently on the quiet bosom of the river, and silently disappeared in it,
leaving no other trace than the smallest possible circle, it seemed to him an
image of his own disappearance from this stormy, sunless world. In the
deep, quiet bosom of Eternity was he about to vanish: from this scene of
turmoil and disgrace, he was to drop into the swiftly flowing river of
Eternity, in it to be absorbed like to those flakes of snow. There was comfort
in that thought.
He walked on, thinking of what his wife and child would do when left
by him. He thought sadly of Blanche's misery; for he knew the depth of her
affection for him—for him who had so ill repaid it, who had brought such
shame and sorrow on her head; but he endeavoured to console himself with
the reflection that her father would take care of her, and that, perhaps, the
best thing that could occur to her was to become a widow.
In those lucid moments which precede the last solemn act, he reviewed
his conduct with melancholy clearness; and, undimmed by sophisms, his
conduct appeared to him in its true light.
A light was dimly shining in Blanche's bedroom, and she was seated by
the window looking out into the night, awaiting the return of him who was
to return no more. Her child was sleeping calmly; no hint of the anguish
which ploughed the hearts of its parents troubled its quiet breathing.
A heavy sigh issued from the watcher as the strokes fell upon her ear,
and she rose to snuff the enormous wick of the neglected candle. She then
resumed her seat at the window.
She feared to meet him—feared to look upon his face, after what had
passed; feared lest he, upon whose brow she had been wont to see the
imperial stamp of genius—in whose eye the lustre of a glorious mind, on
whose lips the smile of unutterable tenderness,—there should now be
legible the stamp of infamy, the dull look of shame, the cynical sneer of
recklessness.
She feared to meet him, yet she could not repress her impatience to see
him: a vague dread that he might not return, shifted to and fro before her
mind, and kept her anxiously watching.
Her candle was guttering in the socket, and she lighted another. She
bent over the cradle of her sleeping infant with a searching look of love;
and seeing that it slept peacefully, she again resumed her seat at the
window.
The snow had ceased to fall. The bright stars were lustrous in the deep,
dark, moonless heavens, in which they seemed suspended. The ground was
white with the untrodden snow, as also were the tops of the houses, and the
branches of the trees. Not a breath of wind stirred. All was silent without,
hushed in the repose of night. Not a footstep was heard; not even the distant
barking of some watchful dog.
Cold, cheerless, desolate as a leafless tree, was the night out into which
the watcher looked, awaiting her husband's return; but he came not, would
not come!
The watcher stirred the fire, and drew the shawl closer around her. She
was cold; but it was not the cold of that winter night which numbed her
limbs, it was the cold icy fear which momently assumed a more definite and
consistent shape.
Her teeth chattered as the thought that he would never come, grew more
and more like a certainty.
There was a shroud upon the earth: a pure, white, stainless shroud,
prepared for one who was yet young, but who had lived too long.
To her widowed eyes this garment of snow, which nature wore, became
a terrible symbol, and the stars seemed to look down upon her in infinite
compassion.
He came not; could not come. The silent river had opened to receive
him, and was now flowing swiftly and silently over his lifeless corpse.
A cry of agony broke from the watcher as those three small strokes with
horrible distinctness fell upon her ear and seemed to utter,—
"He is dead!"
But she remained at her window looking; out into the night. For two
hours longer did she sit there, and then dropped into a feverish sleep, visited
by happy, though broken, dreams.
She dreamed that she had dreamed her husband had committed a
forgery, and that she awoke to find it but a dream: how great her joy, as she
clasped him by the hand and told him all! and how his tender eyes bent
down upon her as he said,—
Her candle was burnt out; the fire had only a few live embers which
went out directly she attempted to revive it. She was numbed with cold;
weary with grief; and threw herself upon the bed.
As the morning fairly broke, she put on her things, and hurried to
Captain Heath to ask his assistance and advice. He was at breakfast when
she arrived, and her appearance so wan, and yet so strangely supernaturally
calm, made him fear the worst.
"He is ashamed to return," she said. "How are we to learn where he is?"
He remained silent.
"You think, then, he will return?" she asked with more emotion in her
voice than she had hitherto betrayed.
She pressed his hand mournfully, and withdrew, leaving Heath amazed
and alarmed at the quietude of her manner.
She walked on, till she saw the crowd stop at her own house, and then
she flew, urged on by some quick sudden fear—she pierced the crowd—she
entered the house—in the passage were four men bearing a corpse on a
shutter: her heart told her whose corpse it was before her eyes had
recognised it.
When next she became conscious, she found herself in her old bedroom
at her father's, her sister Violet seated by her bedside, gazing inquiringly
upon her. The fever was subsiding, and her life was saved.
CHAPTER XIII.
EXPLANATION.
"Mrs. Dombey, it is very necessary that there should be some understanding arrived at
between us. Your conduct does not please me, madam .... I have made you my wife. You
bear my name. You are associated with my position and my reputation."
CHARLES DICKENS.
On the day on which Cecil had forged the cheque, Meredith Vyner
entered his wife's boudoir with the intention of coming to a serious
explanation with her.
In this she made a great mistake. Vyner was weak, it is true, but he was
also obstinate; he was easily cajoled, but not easily driven from any plan he
had once resolved on. Unable to resist the wildest caprices of his wife,
while he loved her, she lost all power over him in losing his affection. This
she did not suspect. Like many other people, she altogether miscalculated
the nature of her power over him, and imagined that what she really gained
by cajolery and pretended affection, she gained by mere cunning and
strength of will.
"And I am in no humour for it," she replied, "my head aches. My nerves
are irritable this morning."
"What I have to say must be said, and the sooner it is said the better for
both of us."
"It is on the old subject," he added; "I need not again recapitulate the
many strong objections your conduct this last year has given rise to, but I
wish once for all to understand whether you intend persisting in it, or
whether you will pay a little more attention to what is due both to me and
yourself."
"How tiresome you are on that subject! When will you understand that a
young woman cannot have an old head upon her shoulders, unless it is also
an ugly one? I shall be grave and sedate enough in time, I dare say;
meanwhile, allow me to observe, that, although I may be fond of
admiration, yet I know perfectly well what is due to myself."
"Can you name any one instance in which I have overstepped the limits
to which even English rigidity confines a young woman?"
"It is a pity you did not think of the great disparity in our ages before
you married me, Mrs. Vyner."
"How much better had you thought so before you made me an offer!"
Vyner had often made that quotation to himself, and now launched it
with great satisfaction, as was evident by the noisy pinch of snuff with
which he closed it.
"You have spoken," he said, "of incompatibilities, and I fear they exist.
But, Mrs. Vyner, if you have destroyed my domestic happiness, you shall
not destroy my future comfort. I will not be made a laughing-stock abroad,
and be made miserable at home. I say I will not. I am come, therefore, to
offer you an alternative."
"Impossible!"
"I say you must. Moreover, you must change your manner entirely, both
to other men and to your husband."
"What manner am I to adopt?"
"That is unfortunate!"
Mrs. Vyner was not a woman to brook such a dictatorial tone even from
the man she loved; and we have seen how Maxwell, when he adopted it,
only irritated her to an unusual degree; from Vyner, whom she had been
accustomed to sway as she pleased; from Vyner whom she disliked, and
somewhat despised, this tone was, therefore, excessively offensive.
Her lip quivered as she replied, "This is a subject upon which we can
never agree. I hold myself to be quite competent to judge of my own
actions, and until I have done anything to forfeit the good opinion of the
world, I shall continue to act as I think proper."
"A separation."
She started; not at the word—that she had heard before—but at the
quiet, dogged resolution of the tone. A flush of angry pride ran over her
cheeks and brow.
"Perfectly."
"Very well, then, in that case, I have only to see about the settlements,
and in a week or two, at the farthest, the affair can be arranged."
He put back his snuff-box into his huge pocket, as he said this, and
walked out of the room with a calmness that lent dignity to his lumpish
figure.
She drooped her head upon her hand, and reflected. Revolted pride,
anger, and fear were struggling in her breast. Irritated as she was by her
husband's manner, she could not reflect upon the separation without
uneasiness.
As his wife, she had an enviable position; separated from him, she not
only lost the advantages of that position, in a deprivation of wealth, but also