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Signals and Systems
Analysis Using Transform Methods and MATLAB®
Third Edition
Michael J. Roberts
Professor Emeritus, Department of Electrical and Computer
Engineering University of Tennessee
SIGNALS AND SYSTEMS: ANALYSIS USING TRANSFORM METHODS AND MATLAB®,
THIRD EDITION
Published by McGraw-Hill Education, 2 Penn Plaza, New York, NY 10121. Copyright © 2018 by
McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. Previous editions
© 2012, and 2004. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any
means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill
Education, including, but not limited to, in any network or other electronic storage or transmission, or
broadcast for distance learning.
Some ancillaries, including electronic and print components, may not be available to customers outside
the United States.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 QVS 22 21 20 19 18 17
ISBN 978-0-07-802812-0
MHID 0-07-802812-4
All credits appearing on page or at the end of the book are considered to be an extension of the
copyright page.
MOTIVATION
I wrote the first and second editions because I love the mathematical beauty of
signal and system analysis. That has not changed. The motivation for the third edi-
tion is to further refine the book structure in light of reviewers, comments, correct
a few errors from the second edition and significantly rework the exercises.
AUDIENCE
This book is intended to cover a two-semester course sequence in the basics of
signal and system analysis during the junior or senior year. It can also be used (as
I have used it) as a book for a quick one-semester Master’s-level review of trans-
form methods as applied to linear systems.
OVERVIEW
Except for the omission of two chapters, the third edition structure is very similar to
the second edition. The book begins with mathematical methods for describing signals
and systems, in both continuous and discrete time. I introduce the idea of a transform
with the continuous-time Fourier series, and from that base move to the Fourier trans-
form as an extension of the Fourier series to aperiodic signals. Then I do the same for
discrete-time signals. I introduce the Laplace transform both as a generalization of the
continuous-time Fourier transform for unbounded signals and unstable systems and
as a powerful tool in system analysis because of its very close association with the ei-
genvalues and eigenfunctions of continuous-time linear systems. I take a similar path
for discrete-time systems using the z transform. Then I address sampling, the relation
between continuous and discrete time. The rest of the book is devoted to applications
in frequency-response analysis, feedback systems, analog and digital filters. Through-
out the book I present examples and introduce MATLAB functions and operations to
implement the methods presented. A chapter-by-chapter summary follows.
CHAPTER SUMMARIES
CHAPTER 1
Chapter 1 is an introduction to the general concepts involved in signal and system
analysis without any mathematical rigor. It is intended to motivate the student by
xii
Preface xiii
demonstrating the ubiquity of signals and systems in everyday life and the impor-
tance of understanding them.
CHAPTER 2
Chapter 2 is an exploration of methods of mathematically describing continuous-
time signals of various kinds. It begins with familiar functions, sinusoids and
exponentials and then extends the range of signal-describing functions to include
continuous-time singularity functions (switching functions). Like most, if not all,
signals and systems textbooks, I define the unit-step, the signum, the unit-impulse
and the unit-ramp functions. In addition to these I define a unit rectangle and a
unit periodic impulse function. The unit periodic impulse function, along with
convolution, provides an especially compact way of mathematically describing
arbitrary periodic signals.
After introducing the new continuous-time signal functions, I cover the
common types of signal transformations, amplitude scaling, time shifting, time
scaling, differentiation and integration and apply them to the signal functions.
Then I cover some characteristics of signals that make them invariant to certain
transformations, evenness, oddness and periodicity, and some of the implications
of these signal characteristics in signal analysis. The last section is on signal
energy and power.
CHAPTER 3
Chapter 3 follows a path similar to Chapter 2 except applied to discrete-time
signals instead of continuous-time signals. I introduce the discrete-time sinu-
soid and exponential and comment on the problems of determining period of a
discrete-time sinusoid. This is the first exposure of the student to some of the
implications of sampling. I define some discrete-time signal functions analo-
gous to continuous-time singularity functions. Then I explore amplitude scaling,
time shifting, time scaling, differencing and accumulation for discrete-time signal
functions pointing out the unique implications and problems that occur, especially
when time scaling discrete-time functions. The chapter ends with definitions and
discussion of signal energy and power for discrete-time signals.
CHAPTER 4
This chapter addresses the mathematical description of systems. First I cover
the most common forms of classification of systems, homogeneity, additivity,
linearity, time invariance, causality, memory, static nonlinearity and invertibility.
By example I present various types of systems that have, or do not have, these
properties and how to prove various properties from the mathematical description
of the system.
CHAPTER 5
This chapter introduces the concepts of impulse response and convolution as
components in the systematic analysis of the response of linear, time-invariant
systems. I present the mathematical properties of continuous-time convolution
and a graphical method of understanding what the convolution integral says. I
also show how the properties of convolution can be used to combine subsystems
that are connected in cascade or parallel into one system and what the impulse
response of the overall system must be. Then I introduce the idea of a transfer
xiv Preface
CHAPTER 6
This is the beginning of the student’s exposure to transform methods. I begin
by graphically introducing the concept that any continuous-time periodic
signal with engineering usefulness can be expressed by a linear combination of
continuous-time sinusoids, real or complex. Then I formally derive the Fourier
series using the concept of orthogonality to show where the signal description as
a function of discrete harmonic number (the harmonic function) comes from. I
mention the Dirichlet conditions to let the student know that the continuous-time
Fourier series applies to all practical continuous-time signals, but not to all
imaginable continuous-time signals.
Then I explore the properties of the Fourier series. I have tried to make the
Fourier series notation and properties as similar as possible and analogous to the
Fourier transform, which comes later. The harmonic function forms a “Fourier
series pair” with the time function. In the first edition I used a notation for har-
monic function in which lower-case letters were used for time-domain quantities
and upper-case letters for their harmonic functions. This unfortunately caused
some confusion because continuous- and discrete-time harmonic functions
looked the same. In this edition I have changed the harmonic function notation
for continuous-time signals to make it easily distinguishable. I also have a section
on the convergence of the Fourier series illustrating the Gibb’s phenomenon at
function discontinuities. I encourage students to use tables and properties to find
harmonic functions and this practice prepares them for a similar process in find-
ing Fourier transforms and later Laplace and z transforms.
The next major section of Chapter 6 extends the Fourier series to the
Fourier transform. I introduce the concept by examining what happens to a
continuous-time Fourier series as the period of the signal approaches infinity
and then define and derive the continuous-time Fourier transform as a gener-
alization of the continuous-time Fourier series. Following that I cover all the
important properties of the continuous-time Fourier transform. I have taken an
“ecumenical” approach to two different notational conventions that are commonly
seen in books on signals and systems, control systems, digital signal processing,
communication systems and other applications of Fourier methods such as image
processing and Fourier optics: the use of either cyclic frequency, f or radian fre-
quency, ω. I use both and emphasize that the two are simply related through a
change of variable. I think this better prepares students for seeing both forms in
other books in their college and professional careers.
CHAPTER 7
This chapter introduces the discrete-time Fourier series (DTFS), the discrete Fou-
rier transform (DFT) and the discrete-time Fourier transform (DTFT), deriving
and defining them in a manner analogous to Chapter 6. The DTFS and the DFT
are almost identical. I concentrate on the DFT because of its very wide use in
digital signal processing. I emphasize the important differences caused by the
differences between continuous- and discrete-time signals, especially the finite
summation range of the DFT as opposed to the (generally) infinite summation
range in the CTFS. I also point out the importance of the fact that the DFT relates
Preface xv
CHAPTER 8
This chapter introduces the Laplace transform. I approach the Laplace trans-
form from two points of view, as a generalization of the Fourier transform to a
larger class of signals and as result which naturally follows from the excitation
of a linear, time-invariant system by a complex exponential signal. I begin by
defining the bilateral Laplace transform and discussing significance of the re-
gion of convergence. Then I define the unilateral Laplace transform. I derive all
the important properties of the Laplace transform. I fully explore the method
of partial-fraction expansion for finding inverse transforms and then show
examples of solving differential equations with initial conditions using the uni-
lateral form.
CHAPTER 9
This chapter introduces the z transform. The development parallels the devel-
opment of the Laplace transform except applied to discrete-time signals and
systems. I initially define a bilateral transform and discuss the region of con-
vergence. Then I define a unilateral transform. I derive all the important prop-
erties and demonstrate the inverse transform using partial-fraction expansion
and the solution of difference equations with initial conditions. I also show
the relationship between the Laplace and z transforms, an important idea in
the approximation of continuous-time systems by discrete-time systems in
Chapter 14.
CHAPTER 10
This is the first exploration of the correspondence between a continuous-time
signal and a discrete-time signal formed by sampling it. The first section covers
how sampling is usually done in real systems using a sample-and-hold and an A/D
converter. The second section starts by asking the question of how many samples
are enough to describe a continuous-time signal. Then the question is answered
by deriving the sampling theorem. Then I discuss interpolation methods, theoret-
ical and practical, the special properties of bandlimited periodic signals. I do a
complete development of the relationship between the CTFT of a continuous-time
signal and DFT of a finite-length set of samples taken from it. Then I show how
the DFT can be used to approximate the CTFT of an energy signal or a periodic
signal. The next major section explores the use of the DFT in numerically approx-
imating various common signal-processing operations.
xvi Preface
CHAPTER 11
This chapter covers various aspects of the use of the CTFT and DTFT in fre-
quency response analysis. The major topics are ideal filters, Bode diagrams, prac-
tical passive and active continuous-time filters and basic discrete-time filters.
CHAPTER 12
This chapter is on the application of the Laplace transform including block dia-
gram representation of systems in the complex frequency domain, system stability,
system interconnections, feedback systems including root locus, system responses
to standard signals and lastly standard realizations of continuous-time systems.
CHAPTER 13
This chapter is on the application of the z transform including block diagram
representation of systems in the complex frequency domain, system stability, sys-
tem interconnections, feedback systems including root-locus, system responses to
standard signals, sampled-data systems and standard realizations of discrete-time
systems.
CHAPTER 14
This chapter covers the analysis and design of some of the most common types
of practical analog and digital filters. The analog filter types are Butterworth,
Chebyshev Types 1 and 2 and Elliptic (Cauer) filters. The section on digital filters
covers the most common types of techniques for simulation of analog filters includ-
ing, impulse- and step-invariant, finite difference, matched z transform, direct sub-
stitution, bilinear z transform, truncated impulse response and Parks-McClellan
numerical design.
APPENDICES
There are seven appendices on useful mathematical formulae, tables of the four
Fourier transforms, Laplace transform tables and z transform tables.
CONTINUITY
The book is structured so as to facilitate skipping some topics without loss of
continuity. Continuous-time and discrete-time topics are covered alternately and
continuous-time analysis could be covered without reference to discrete time.
Also, any or all of the last six chapters could be omitted in a shorter course.
WRITING STYLE
Every author thinks he has found a better way to present material so that students
can grasp it and I am no different. I have taught this material for many years and
through the experience of grading tests have found what students generally do and
do not grasp. I have spent countless hours in my office one-on-one with students
explaining these concepts to them and, through that experience, I have found
out what needs to be said. In my writing I have tried to simply speak directly to
the reader in a straightforward conversational way, trying to avoid off-putting
formality and, to the extent possible, anticipating the usual misconceptions and
revealing the fallacies in them. Transform methods are not an obvious idea and,
at first exposure, students can easily get bogged down in a bewildering morass of
abstractions and lose sight of the goal, which is to analyze a system’s response to
signals. I have tried (as every author does) to find the magic combination of ac-
cessibility and mathematical rigor because both are important. I think my writing
is clear and direct but you, the reader, will be the final judge of whether or not
that is true.
EXERCISES
Each chapter has a group of exercises along with answers and a second group of
exercises without answers. The first group is intended more or less as a set of
“drill” exercises and the second group as a set of more challenging exercises.
CONCLUDING REMARKS
As I indicated in the preface to first and second editions, I welcome any and all
criticism, corrections and suggestions. All comments, including ones I disagree
with and ones which disagree with others, will have a constructive impact on the
next edition because they point out a problem. If something does not seem right
to you, it probably will bother others also and it is my task, as an author, to find
a way to solve that problem. So I encourage you to be direct and clear in any re-
marks about what you believe should be changed and not to hesitate to mention
any errors you may find, from the most trivial to the most significant.
Michael J. Roberts, Professor
Emeritus Electrical and Computer Engineering
University of Tennessee at Knoxville
[email protected]
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C H A P T E R 1
Introduction
1.1 SIGNALS AND SYSTEMS DEFINED
Any time-varying physical phenomenon that is intended to convey information is a
signal. Examples of signals are the human voice, sign language, Morse code, traffic
signals, voltages on telephone wires, electric fields emanating from radio or television
transmitters, and variations of light intensity in an optical fiber on a telephone or com-
puter network. Noise is like a signal in that it is a time-varying physical phenomenon,
but usually it does not carry useful information and is considered undesirable.
Signals are operated on by systems. When one or more excitations or input signals
are applied at one or more system inputs, the system produces one or more responses
or output signals at its outputs. Figure 1.1 is a block diagram of a single-input,
single-output system.
Excitation Response
or Input Signal
Input System Output
or Output Signal
Figure 1.1
Block diagram of a single-input, single-output system
Information Noisy
Signal Transmitter Channel Receiver Information
Signal
Figure 1.2
A communication system
1
2 C h a p t e r 1 Introduction
Figure 1.3
Modern office buildings
© Vol. 43 PhotoDisc/Getty
Figure 1.4
Typical industrial plant control room
© Royalty-Free/Punchstock
1.2 Types of Signals 3
Figure 1.5
Modern farm tractor with enclosed cab
© Royalty-Free/Corbis
The term system even encompasses things such as the stock market, government,
weather, the human body and the like. They all respond when excited. Some systems
are readily analyzed in detail, some can be analyzed approximately, but some are so
complicated or difficult to measure that we hardly know enough to understand them.
Continuous-Time Discrete-Time
x(t) Continuous-Value x[n] Continuous-Value
Signal Signal
t n
Figure 1.6
Examples of continuous-time and discrete-time signals
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"What a good chap...." But Gell could get no farther—his eyes were full
and his throat was hurting him.
"By the way, old man, you don't mind my saying something?"
"Do you say that? He made a big mistake in killing the wife, though,
didn't he? If I had been in his place do you know what I should have done?"
"What?"
Stowell drew back in his seat and at the next moment the train started.
"But Bessie's case was different," he thought. "She was not deserted. She
sent Alick to me herself. Therefore it's impossible, quite impossible."
"Come in, my boy. Sit down. Take a cigarette. I have important news for
you."
The Governor had returned from London and was calling Stowell into
his smoking-room.
"I dined with the Home Secretary the following night, and the Lord
Chief Justice, who was among the guests, was warm in his approval. Acid
old fellow with noisy false teeth, but quite enthusiastic about your defence
of law and order. Crime was contagious like disease, and there was an
epidemic of violence in the world now. If society was to be saved from
anarchy then law alone could save it. Some of their English courts—judges
as well as juries—had been criminally indulgent to crimes of passion. Our
little Manx court had shown them a good example."
"Very! And now the last thing I have to tell you is that Tynwald Court
this morning voted a sum for a memorial to your father, leaving the form of
it to me. I've decided on a portrait by Mylechreest, your Manx artist, to be
hung in the Court-house at Castle Rushen. Mylechreest knew the Deemster
(saw him at his last Court, in fact) and thinks he can paint the portrait from
memory. But if you have any photographs let him have them without delay.
And now off you go! Somebody's waiting for you in the drawing-room."
During the next six months Stowell worked as he had never worked
before. Four hours a day at his office or in the Courts, and uncounted hours
at home. Janet used to say she could never look out of her bedroom window
at night without seeing his light from the library on the lawn.
Winter came on. It was such a winter as nobody in the island could
remember to have seen before. First wind that lashed the sea into loud cries
about the coast, blew over the Curraghs with a perpetual wailing, ran up the
glen with a roar, and brought the "boys" out of their beds to hold the roofs
on their houses by throwing ropes over the thatch and fastening them down,
with stones.
Then rain that deluged the low-lying lands, so that women had to go to
market in boats; and then mist that hid the island for a week and brought
more ships ashore than anybody had seen since the days of the ten black
brothers of Jurby who (long suspected of wrecking) were caught stuffing
the box tombs in the churchyard with rolls of Irish cloth.
But neither wind, nor rain, nor mist, kept Stowell from Fenella.
Clad in boots up to his thighs, with an oilskin coat tightly belted about
the waist and a sou'wester strapped down from crown to chin, he would
cross the mountains on his young chestnut mare, with the island roaring
about him like a living thing, and arrive at Fenella's door with his horse's
flanks steaming and his own face ablaze.
After the wind and the rain came a long frost, which laid its unseen hand
on the rivers and waterfalls, making a deep hush that was like a great peace
after a great war. In the middle of the island (the valley of Baldwin) there
was a tarn into which the mountains drained, and as soon as this was frozen
over Stowell and Fenella skated on it.
What a delight! The ice humming under their feet like a muffled drum;
the air ringing to their voices like a cup; the sun sparkling in the hoar frost
on the bare boughs of the trees; the blue sky sailing over the hilltops,
capped with white clouds that looked like soft lamb's wool.
Then came a great snow that brought a still deeper silence, broken at
Ballamoar only by the skid of the steel runners of the stiff carts, whose
wheels had been removed, and the smothered calling of the cattle which had
been shut up in the houses.
But what rapture! Every morning the farmers looked out of their
windows, thick with ice, to see if the snow had gone, but as Stowell drew
his blind and the snow light of the winter's sun came pouring in upon him,
he thought only of another joyous day with Fenella.
There was a broad ridge on the top, a great divide, separating the north
of the island from the south, and as they skimmed across it from sight of
eastern to sight of western sea, it was just as if they were sailing through the
sky with the white round hills for clouds and the earth lying somewhere far
below.
They were doing this one day when Stowell came upon a place where
the snow was honeycombed with holes.
Digging into the snow he found a buried sheep, still alive but unable to
stand. So, taking it by its front and back legs he swung it over his head on to
his shoulders and carried it to a shepherd's hut a mile away, where a turf fire
was burning, and dogs, with snow on their snouts, were barking about a pen
of bleating sheep that had been similarly recovered.
His delight at this rescue was so boisterous that he went back and back
for hours and brought in other and other sheep.
Fenella, who followed him with his ski staffs, was in raptures. This was
a new side of Victor Stowell, and she had a woman's joy in it. He was not
only clever, he was strong. He could not only make speeches (as nobody
else in the world could), he could ride and skate and ski, and (if he liked) he
could lift a woman in his arms and throw her over his shoulder. Something
would come of this some day—she was sure it would.
They were at the top of the pass, stamping the snow off their ski, and
shaking it out of their gloves, before going down to the Governor's carriage
which (also on runners) was waiting for them at the inn at the bottom of the
hill. The sun was setting and the red light of it was flushing Fenella's face.
She looked sideways at Stowell with a mischievous light in her eyes and
said,
"Yes?"
"No?"
"Yes," she said, making ready for flight, "one of those sea robbers you
told me of, who came to take possession of the island and capture its
women."
"Really?"
"I dare say you're sorry you're not back with your ridiculous old
ancestors, catching a woman for your wife."
"Catch me!" she cried, and away she flew down the slopes, laughing,
screaming, rocking, reeling, and leaping over the drifts, until at length she
tumbled into a deep one, with head down and ski in air, and came up half
blind, with Stowell's arms about her and his lips kissing the snow off her
chin and nose.
What a winter! Could there be any sorrow or sin or crime in the world at
all? And what did it want its prisons and courts for?
But the thaw came at length, and then the noises of the garrulous old
island began again with the rattle of the cart wheels, the rumble of the rivers
running to the sea, and the mooing and bleating of the liberated cattle and
sheep, coming out of their Ark and going back to the discoloured grass of
the fields.
"Good-night!"
They were in the porch at Government House after the last of their
winter expeditions. He was crushing her in his arms again, to the ruin of her
beautiful hair, and whispering of the time that was coming when there
would be no need for such partings.
And then home to Ballamoar, with his young chestnut under him sniffing
the night air, and over his head a paradise of stars.
II
It was a telegram from the Governor, who had been in London again.
Stowell went up to Douglas by the first train.
"Ah!"
"Mine, Sir?"
"Yours! It was all right, too, until I had to tell them your age, and then—
phew! A judge and not yet thirty! I stood to my ground, said this was the
age of youth, quoted the classical examples. Anyhow, there was my
recommendation—take it or leave it."
"The result was that the Lord Chief was consulted, and then our
insignificance saved us. Yes, there was precedent enough for young judges
in colonies and dependencies. And this being a case of a worthy son
succeeding a worthy father .... and so on and so forth."
"Well?"
"Well, the end of it is that you are to go up to see the Home Secretary
after the House has risen at Easter."
Stowell's heart was beating high, yet he hardly knew whether he was
more proud than afraid. He mumbled something about the claims of his
seniors at the bar.
"Oh yes, I know! All the old stick-in-the-muds! But keep your end up in
London and I'll keep mine up here."
"You are very good, Sir. You have always been good to me."
The Governor, who had been rattling on, in a rush of high spirits,
suddenly became grave and spoke slowly.
"Not at all," he said. "And I'm not thinking of you as .... what you are
going to be. I'm thinking of you as your father's son, and expecting you to
live up to your traditions. We want the spirit of the great Deemster in the
island these days. Violence! Violence! Violence! I agree with the Lord
Chief. It seems as if the world is getting out of hand. Justice is the only
thing that can save it from anarchy—utter anarchy and ruin. Let's have no
more recommendations to mercy! When people commit crime let them
suffer. When they take life—no matter who or what they are—let them die
for it."
"And by the way" (Stowell was leaving the room), "your father's portrait
is finished. We must unveil it before you go up to London."
Trembling all over, Stowell went into the library to tell Fenella.
"How splendid!" she said. She was glowing with excitement. "You've
done magnificent work for women as an advocate, but only think what you
will be able to do as a judge! There isn't a poor, wronged girl in the island
who won't know that she has a friend on the Bench!"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE EVE OF MARY
When she read in the insular newspaper the long report of the trial of the
Peel fisherman she was terrified. Men did not forgive their wives, then, in
such cases? On the contrary the more they loved them the less they forgave
them.
Gell came bounding into the sitting-room while she had the newspaper
in her hand and before she had time to hide it away he saw what she had
been reading.
"Terrible, isn't it?" he said. "Poor devil, I was sorry for him. When a
woman deceives a man like that the law ought to allow him to put her away.
He did wrong, of course, but he had no legal remedy—not an atom. Old Vic
made out a magnificent case for the woman, but she deserved all she got,
I'm afraid."
Bessie gave a frightened cry, and then Gell said, as if to conciliate her.
"I'll tell you what, though. If the woman was guilty there was somebody
else who was ten times guiltier, and that was the other man. The scoundrel!
The treacherous, deceitful scoundrel, skulking away in the dark! I should
like to choke the life out of him. That's what I said to Stowell going up in
the train. 'If I had been in the husband's place do you know what I should
have done?' I said. 'I should have killed the other man.'"
Bessie's terror increased ten-fold. Dread of what Gell might do sat on her
like a nightmare. To marry him seemed to be impossible, yet not to marry
him, now that she loved him so much, seemed to be impossible also.
A secret hope came to her. It was early days yet. Perhaps something
would happen to her bye-and-bye, which, being over and done with, would
leave her free to marry Alick with a clean heart and conscience.
To help it to come to pass, she stayed indoors, took no exercise, and ate
as little as possible. Her health declined, and her face in the glass began to
look peaky. She took a fierce joy in these signs of increasing weakness. The
Miss Browns kept a few chickens in their back garden, and one morning,
after the snow had begun to fall, they found Bessie in bare feet going out to
feed them.
"It's nothing," she said. "I'm used of it, you know. I was eight years old
before I wore shoe or stocking."
Meantime she was putting Gell off and off. "Time enough yet, boy," she
would say as often as he asked her.
One day Gell came with an almost irresistible story. He had bespoken a
house in Athol Street. It was just what they wanted. Close to the Law
Library and nearly opposite the new Court House. Two rooms on the
ground floor for his offices, two on the first floor for their living
apartments, and two on the top for the kitchen and for the maid.
It is the temptation that no woman can resist—the desire to have a home
that shall be all her own—and for a few weeks Bessie fell to it. Evening
after evening, she and Alick sat side by side in the sitting-room making
catalogues of all they would require to set up a household. Gell took charge
of the tables and chairs and side-boards. Bessie was the authority on the
blankets and linen. It was such a delight to construct a home from memory!
And then what laughs and thrills and shamefaced looks when, in spite of all
their thinking, they remembered some intimate and essential thing which
they had hitherto forgotten.
But even this fierce gambling with her fate broke down at last with
Bessie. The certainty had fallen on her. The natural strength of her
constitution had withstood all the attacks she had made upon it. Whether
she married Gell, or did not marry him, there was nothing before her except
suffering and disgrace. How could she keep his love against the shame that
was striding down on her?
Christmas had come. It was Christmas Eve. The Manx people call it
Oie'l Verry (the Eve of Mary), and during the last hour before midnight they
take possession of their parish churches, over the heads of their clergy, for
the singing of their ancient Manx carvals (carols). The old Miss Browns
were to keep Oie'l Verry at their church in Castletown. They had always
done so, and this time Bessie was to go with them.
It was a clear cold winter's night with crisp snow underfoot, and
overhead a world of piercing stars.
As the two old maids in their long black boas, and Bessie in a fur-lined
coat which Gell had sent as a Christmas present, crossed the foot-bridge
over the harbour and walked under the blind walls of the dark castle, the
great clock in the square tower was striking eleven. But it was bright
enough in the market place, with the light from the church windows on the
white ground, and people hurrying to church at a quick trot and stamping
the snow off their boots at the door.
It was brighter still inside, for the altar and pulpit had been decorated
with ivy and holly, and, though the church was lit by gas, most of the
worshippers, according to ancient custom, had brought candles also.
The church was very full, but the old Miss Browns, with Bessie behind
them, walked up the aisle to the pew under the reading-desk which they had
always rented. The congregation about them was a strangely mixed one,
and the atmosphere was half solemn and half hilarious.
The gallery was occupied by farm lads and fisher-lads chiefly, and they
were craning their necks to catch glimpses of the girls in the pews below,
while the girls themselves (as often as they could do so without being
observed by their elders) were glancing up with gleaming eyes. In the body
of the church there were middle-aged folks with soberer faces, and in the
front seats sat old people, with slower and duller eyes and cheeks scored
deep with wrinkles—the mysterious hieroglyphics of life's troubled story,
sickness and death, husbands lost at half-tide and children gone before
them.
An opening hymn had just been sung, the last notes of the organ were
dying down, the clergyman, in his surplice, was sitting by the side of the
altar, and the first of the carol singers had risen in his pew, candle in hand,
to sing his carval.
He was a rugged old man from the mountains of Rushen, half landsman
and half seaman, and his carol (which he sang in the Manx, while the tallow
guttered down on his discoloured fingers) was a catalogue of all the bad
women mentioned in the Bible, from Eve, the mother of mankind, who
brought evil into the world, to "that graceless wench, Salome."
After that came similar carols, sung by similar carol-singers and received
by the boys in the gallery with gusts of laughter which the Clerk tried in
vain to suppress. But at last there came a carval sung in chorus by twelve
young girls with sweet young voices and faces that were chaste and pure
and full of joy—all carrying their candles as they walked slowly up the aisle
from the western end of the church to the altar steps.
Their carol was an account of the Nativity, scarcely less crude than the
carols that had gone before it, though the singers seemed to know nothing
of that—how Joseph, being a just man, had espoused a virgin, and finding
she was with child before he married her, he had wished to put her away,
but the angel of the Lord had appeared to him and told him not to, and how
at last he had carried his wife and child away into the land of Egypt, out of
reach of the wrath of Herod the King, who was trying to disgrace and
destroy them.
A little before midnight the clergyman rose and asked for silence. And
then, while all heads were bowed and there was a solemn hush within, the
great clock of the Castle struck twelve in the darkness outside. After that the
organ pealed out "Hark, the herald angels sing," and everybody who had a
candle extinguished it, and all stood up and sang.
The bells were ringing joyfully as the congregation trooped out of the
church, but for some while longer they moved about on the crinkling snow
in front of it, saluting and shaking hands, everybody with everybody.
Then the Verger put out the lights in the church behind them, and in the
sudden darkness the crowd broke up, one more Oie'l Verry over, and under
the slow descent of the starlight the cheerful voices and crinkling footsteps
went their various ways home.
Back at Derby Haven, Bessie, who had been on the point of crying
during the latter part of the service, ran up to her room, flung herself face
down on her bed and burst into a flood of tears.
If she, too, could only fly away, and stay away, until her trouble was
over! But how could she do that? And where could she go to?
II
Two months passed. Bessie's time was fast approaching, and the nearer it
came the more she was terrified by the signs of it. The symptoms of coming
maternity which are a joy and a pride to married mothers were a dread and a
terror to her. Had she brought herself so low that she could not live through
the time that was before her? At one moment she thought of going to
Fenella. Everybody said how good Miss Stanley was to girls in trouble. But
when she remembered Fenella's relation to Stowell, and Stowell's to Gell,
and her own to all three, she told herself that Fenella Stanley was the one
woman in the world whom she must never come face to face with.
At length, thinking death was certain, she saw only one thing left to do—
to go back to her mother. It was not thus that she had expected to return, but
nothing else was possible now. In her helplessness and ignorance, having no
one to reassure her, the high-spirited girl became a child again. Twenty
years of her life slipped back at a stride, and she felt as she used to do when
she ran bare-foot on the roads and fell and bruised her knees, or tore her
little hairy legs in the gorse and then went home to lie on her mother's lap
and be rocked before the fire and comforted.
But going home had its terrors also. There was Dan Baldromma! What
could she do? Was there no way out for her?
One day the elder of the Miss Browns (she gave music lessons to old
pupils at their own homes) came back from Castletown with a "shocking
story." It was about a witch-doctor at Cregnaish—a remote village at the
southernmost extremity of the island, where the inhabitants were supposed
to be descended from a crew of Spanish sailors who had been wrecked on
the rocky coast below.
"It's shocking, this witchcraft," said old Miss Brown. "In my young days
it was given for law that the women who practised such arts should stand in
a white sheet on a platform in the marketplace with the words For
Charming and Sorcery in capital letters on their breasts."
Bessie said nothing, but next day, after breakfast, making excuse of her
need of a walk, she hurried out, took train to Port Erin, and climbed, with
many pauses, the zigzag path up the Mull Hills to where a Druids' circle sits
on the brow, and Cregnaish (like a gipsy encampment of mud huts thatched
with straw) sprawls over the breast of them.
It was a fine spring morning, with the sea lying still on either side of the
uplands, and the sun, through clouds of broken crimson, peering over the
shoulder of the Calf like a blood-shot eye.
Bessie had no need to ask her way to the witch-doctor's house, for troops
of young girls were coming down from it, generally in pairs, whispering
and laughing merrily. At length she came upon it—a one-storey thatched
cottage with a queue of girls outside.
When the last of the girls had gone, and Bessie still stood waiting on the
opposite side of the rutted space which served for a road, a wisp of a
woman, with hair and eyebrows as black as a shoe, but a face as wrinkled as
the trunk of the trammon tree, came to the door and said,
It was Nan, the witch-doctor, and Bessie followed her into the house.
The inside was a single room with a fire at one end and a bed at the
other. The floor was of hardened clay and the scraas of the roof were so low
overhead that a tall man could scarcely have stood erect under them.
Bundles of herbs hung from nails in the sooty rafters and when the old
woman closed the door, Bessie saw that the Crosh cuirn (the cross of
mountain ash) was standing at the back of it.
"I'm in trouble, ma'am," said Bessie, who was on the verge of tears, "and
I'm wanting to know what to do and what is to happen to me."
"Aw yes, bogh, trouble enough. But knock that cat off the cheer in the
choillagh and sit down and make yourself comfortable."
Bessie loosened her fur-lined cloak and sat in the ingle, with the fire at
her feet and a peep of the blue sky coming down on her from the wide
chimney.
"They were telling me a fine young woman was coming," said the witch-
doctor (she meant the invisible powers), "and it was wondering and
wondering I was would she have strength to climb the brews. But here you
are, my chree, and now a cup o' tay will do no harm at all."
"Chut! A cup o' tay is nothing and here's my taypot on the warm turf and
the tay at the best, too."
While Bessie sipped at her cup the witch-doctor went on talking, but she
took quick glances at the girl from time to time and sometimes asked a
question.
At length she bolted the door, drew a thick blind over the window, knelt
before the hearth, and called on Bessie to do the same, so that they were
kneeling side by side, with no light in the darkened room except the red
glow from the fire on their faces and the blue streak from the sky behind the
smoke from the chimney.
After that the witch-doctor mumbled some rhymes about St. Patrick and
the blessed St. Bridget, then put her ear to the ground, saying she was
listening to the Sheean ny Feaynid, the invisible beings who were always
wandering over the world. And then she began on the fortune, which
Bessie, who was trembling, interrupted with involuntary cries.
"There's a fair young man in your life, my chree (Yes) and if you're not
his equal you're the apple of his eye. There's a poor ould woman, too, and
she praying and praying for her bogh-millish to come home to her (Oh!)
and the longing that's taking the woman at times is pitiful to see. 'Where is
my wandering girl to-night,' she's singing when she's sitting by her fireside;
and when she's going to bed she's saying, 'In Jesu's keeping nought can
harm my erring child.'"
At this Bessie broke down utterly, and the witch-doctor had to stop for a
moment. Then she began again in a different strain,
"There's an ould man too .... yes .... no .... (Yes, yes!) as imperent as sin
and as bould as a white stone, and with a vice at him as loud as a trambone.
Aw, yes, woman-bogh, yes, there's trouble coming on you, but take heart,
gel, for things will come out right before long and it's a proud woman
you're going to be some day. But you must go home to the mother, my
chree, and never take rest till you're laying your head under the same roof
with her."
"True as true, my chree, and his heart that warm to you at last that it will
be like gorse and ling burning on the mountains."
"Lough bless me, no! Neither to him nor you, gel. Roaring and tearing
and mad as a wasp, maybe, but nothing to do no harm at all."
Bessie had crossed the old woman's palm with sixpence as she came into
the house, but she emptied her purse into it going out, and then went down
the hill with a light step and a lighter heart.
Alick Gell was at Derby Haven when she got back, having been waiting
for more than an hour. Seeing her coming down the road with her face
aglow, he dashed off to meet her, and broke into a flood of joyous words.
"Helloa! Here you are at last! Looking as fresh as a flower, too? What
did I say? Didn't I tell you that you had only to get about and take exercise
and you would be as right as rain in no time? But, look here, Bess" (he had
drawn her arm through his), "you've kept me waiting all winter and now
that you're getting better I'm going to stand no more nonsense."
"I'm not! Upon my soul, I'm not! You wouldn't let me put up the banns at
Malew, thinking Dan Baldromma would hear of them through Cæsar
Qualtrough, and come here making a noise at Miss Brown's, though he has
no more right over you than the Coroner, and no more power over me than
a tomtit. But there are other ways of marrying besides being called in
church, and one of them is by Bishop's licence."
"Bishop's licence?"
"Well, no, not to-day. I have to go to the Castle this afternoon. They're
unveiling a portrait of the old Deemster. And what do you think, Bess?"
"What?"
They had reached the gate of the old maid's house by this time and Gell
was looking at his watch.
"Pshew! I must be off! Ceremony begins at three and it's that already.
Wouldn't miss it for worlds. By-bye! ... Another one! .... Oh, but you must,
though."
Bessie looked after him as he hurried down the road, swinging his arms
and pitching his shoulders, as he always did when his heart was glad. Then
she went indoors, ran upstairs and set herself to think things out.
She must go before Alick could get back. When he arrived to-morrow
she must be on her way to her mother's. It was earlier than she had intended,
but there was no help for that now. And then it would be all right in the end
—the Sheean ny Feaynid (the Voices of Infinity) had said so.
After her child had been born her mother would take it and bring it up as
her own—she had heard of such things happening in Manx houses, hadn't
she? And when all was over and everything was covered up, she would
come back, and then .... then Alick and she would be married.
In the light of what the witch-doctor had said it seemed to her so natural,
so simple, so sure. But later in the evening, it tore her heart woefully to
think of Alick coming from Douglas on the following day and finding her
gone. So she wrote this note and stole out and posted it:
A pale shaft of spring sunshine from the lantern light was on the new
portrait of the Deemster, which had been hung on the eastern wall and was
still covered by a white sheet.
The time of waiting for the proceedings to begin was passed in a low
buzz of conversation, chiefly on one subject. "Is it true that he is to follow
his father?" "So they say." "So young and with so many before him—I call
it shocking." "So do I, but then he's the son of the old Deemster, and is to
marry the daughter of the Governor."
At the last moment Stowell and Fenella arrived and were shown into
seats reserved for them at the end of the Jury-box. Then the conversation
(among the women at least) took another turn. "Well, they're a lovely pair—
I will say that for them."
The Governor's own speech was a short one. They had gathered to do
honour to the memory of one of the most honoured of their countrymen.
The memory of its great men was a nation's greatest inheritance. If that was
true of the larger communities it was no less true of the little realm of Man.
"Hence the island," said the Governor, "is doing a service to itself in
setting up in this Court-house, the scene of his principal activities, the
memorial to its great Deemster which I have now the honour to unveil."
When the Governor pulled a cord and the white sheet fell from the face
of the picture there was a gasp of astonishment. The impression of reality
was startling. The Deemster had been painted in wig and gown and as if
sitting on the bench in that very Court-house. The powerful yet melancholy
eyes, the drawn yet firm-set mouth, the suggestion of suffering yet strength
—it was just as he had been seen there last, summing up after the trial of the
woman who had killed her husband.
As soon as the spectators, who had risen, had resumed their seats, the
Governor called on the Attorney-General.
The old man was deeply moved. The Deemster had been his oldest and
dearest friend. It was difficult for him to remember a time when they had
not been friends and impossible to recall an hour in which their friendship
had been darkened by so much as a cloud. If it was true that the memory of
its great men was a nation's greatest inheritage, the island had a great
heritage in the memory of Deemster Stowell. He had been great as a lawyer,
great as a judge, great as a gentleman, as a friend, as a lover, as a husband,
and (with a glance in the direction of the jury-box) as a father also.
"I pray and believe," said the Attorney, "that this memorial to our great
Deemster may be a stimulus and an inspiration to all our young men
whatsoever, particularly to such as are in the profession of the Bar, and
especially to one who bears his name, has inherited many of his splendid
talents, and may yet be called, please God, to fill his place and follow in his
footsteps."
When the old man sat down there was general applause, a little damped,
perhaps, by the last of his references, and then followed the event of the
afternoon.
By the blind instinct that animates a crowd, all eyes turned in the
direction of Victor Stowell. He sat by Fenella's side, breathing audibly with
head down and hands clasped tightly about one of his knees.
There was a pause and then a low stamping of feet and Fenella
whispered,
When he rose he looked pale and much older, and bore a resemblance to
the picture of his father on the opposite wall which few had observed
before.
He began in a low tense voice, thanking His Excellency for asking him
to speak, but saying he would have given a great deal not to do so.
"The only excuse I can have for standing here to-day," he said, "is that I
may thank you, Sir, and this company, and my countrymen and
countrywomen generally, in the name of one whose voice, so often heard
within these walls, must now be silent."
After that he paused, as if not quite sure that he ought to go further, and
then continued,
"If my father was a great Judge, it was chiefly because he was a great
lover of Justice. Justice was the most sacred thing on earth to him, and no
man ever held higher the dignity and duty of a Judge. Woe to the Judge who
permitted personal motives to pervert his judgment, and thrice woe to him
who committed a crime against justice. Therefore, if I know my father's
heart and have any right to speak for him, I will say that what you have
done this afternoon is not so much to perpetuate the memory of Douglas
Stowell, Deemster of Man, as to set up in this old Court-house, which has
witnessed so many tragic scenes, an altar to the spirit of Justice, so that no
Judge, following him in his place, may ever forget that his first and last and
only duty is to be just and fear not."
"As for myself I hardly dare to speak at all. What my dear master has
said of me makes it difficult to say anything. Some people seem to think it
is a great advantage to a young man to be the son of a great father. But if it
is a great help it is also a great responsibility and may sometimes be the
source of a great sorrow. I never knew what my father had been to me until
I lost him. I had always been proud of him, but I had rarely or never given
him reason to be proud of me. That is a fault I cannot repair now. But there
is one thing I can do and one thing only. I can take my solemn vow—and
here and now I do so—that whatever the capacity in which my duty calls
me to this place, I will never wilfully do anything in the future, with my
father's face on the wall in front of me, that shall be unworthy of my father's
son."
There were husky cheers and some clapping of hands when Stowell sat
down, but most of the men were clearing their throats and wiping the mist
off their spectacles, and nearly all of the women were coughing and drying
their eyes.
Others were to have spoken but the Governor closed up the proceedings
quickly, and then there was a general conversazione.
A group of old ladies had gathered about Fenella, whose great eyes were
ablaze.
"It was beautiful, my dear, but there was just one other person who ought
to have been here to hear it."
"Who?"
The Governor drew Stowell aside. "It's all right, my boy! Must have
been instinct, but you touched your people on their tenderest place. Pretty
hard on you, perhaps, but I knew what I was doing. The opposition in the
island is as dead as a door nail already. Get into the saddle in London and
you'll never hear another word about it."
"Aw well, we'll see, we'll see," said the Speaker—he was going out of
the Castle (head down and his big beard on his breast), with old Hudgeon
the advocate.
As he passed through the outer gate his son Alick came running hotfoot
up to it.
II
Victor Stowell left the island for London at nine o'clock next morning.
The first bell of the steamer had been rung, the mails were aboard, and the
more tardy of the passengers were hurrying to the gangway, with their
porters behind them, when the Governor's carriage drew up and Stowell
leapt out of it.
"Come to see me off? Yes? Jolly good of you," said Stowell, and he
stood talking to them at the top of the pier steps till the second bell had been
rung.
Down to that moment nobody had said a word about the object of his
journey, although every eye betrayed knowledge of it. But just as he was
crossing the gangway to the steamer one of the advocates (a little fat man
with the reputation of a wag) cried, with a broad smatch of the Anglo-
Manx,
"Bring it back in your bres' pockat, boy"—meaning the King's
commission for the Deemstership.
He was settling himself with his portmanteau in the deck cabin that had
been reserved for him when somebody darkened the doorway.
"Helloa!"
It was Gell. His cheeks were white, his face looked troubled, and he was
breathing rapidly as if he had been running.
Gell stepped into the cabin, and with a suspicion of tears both in his eyes
and voice, told his story.
It was Bessie again. He didn't know what had come over the girl. She
had been holding off all winter. First one excuse, then another.
"I've done all I can think of. Taken a house in Athol Street and furnished
it beautifully (thanks to you, old fellow), but it's no use, seemingly."
With a trembling hand Gell took out of his pocket the letter which Bessie
had written the night before and handed it to Stowell.
"That she finds out at last that she doesn't care enough for me to marry
me."
"What else can it be? There can be nothing else, can there?"
"Go down just the same. I've been telegraphing saying I'm coming.
That's why I'm late getting down to the boat."
"Not very."
"Nothing serious?"
"No—nothing, the Miss Browns think, that we might not expect after
such a change in her life and condition."
"Then that's it! Cheer up, old man! It will all come right yet. Women
suffer from so many things that we men know nothing about."
"If I could only think that...."
"Victor," said Gell, taking Stowell's hand, "will you do one thing more
for me?"
"Certainly—what is it?"
"Is it a promise?"
A sailor was shouting on the deck outside the cabin door, and the third
bell was ringing.
"Good-bye and God bless you, and good luck in London! You deserve
every bit of it!"
At the next moment the gangway was pulled in, the ropes were thrown
aboard, and the steamer was gliding away.
Gell was standing at the sea-end of the pier, waving his cap and
struggling to smile. At sight of his face Stowell felt ashamed of his own
happiness. A vague shadow of something that had come to him before came
again, with a shudder such as one feels when a bat strikes one in the dusk.
At the next moment it was gone. The steamer was swinging round the
breakwater and opening the bay, and he was looking for a long white house
(Government House) which stood on the heights above the town. He had
slept there last night, and this morning Fenella, parting from him in the
porch, while the Governor's high-stepping horses were champing on the
gravel outside, had promised to signal to him when she saw the steamer
clearing the harbour.
Ah, there she was, waving a white scarf from an upper window. Stowell
stood by the rail at the stern and waved back his handkerchief. Fenella! He
could see nothing but her dark eyes and beaming smile, and Gell's sad face
was forgotten.
It was a fine fresh morning, with the sun filtering through a veil of haze
and the world answering to the call of Spring. As the boat sailed on, the
island seemed to recede and shrink and then sink into the sea until only the
tops of the mountains were visible—looking like a dim grey ghost that was
lying at full stretch in the sky.
At length it was gone; the sea-gulls which had followed the steamer out
had made their last swirl round and turned towards the land, but Stowell
was still looking back from the rail at the stern.
The dear little island! How good it had been to him! How eager he
would be to return to it!
The sun broke clear, the waters widened and widened, the glistening blue
waves rolled on and on, the ship rose and fell to the rhythm of the flowing
tide, the throb of the engines beat time to the deep surge of the sea, and the
still deeper surge of youth and love and health and hope within him.
Dear God, how happy he was! What had he done to deserve such
happiness?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MOTHER'S LAW OR JUDGE'S LAW?
Bessie had passed a miserable night. Having been awake until after five
in the morning she was asleep at nine when somebody knocked at her
bedroom door. It was old Miss Ethel with a telegram. Bessie opened it with
trembling fingers.
With fingers that trembled still more noticeably Bessie returned the
telegram to its envelope and slid it under her pillow, saying (with a
twitching of the mouth which always came when she was telling an
untruth),
"That's nice," said Miss Ethel. "The change will do you a world of good,
dear. I'll run down and hurry your breakfast, so that you can catch the ten-
thirty."
Bessie dressed hastily, put a few things into a little handbag, and then sat
down to write her promised letter. It was a terrible ordeal. What could she
say that would not betray her secret? At length she wrote:
"DEAR ALICK,—Do forgive me. I must go away for a little
while. It is all my health. I have been ill all winter and suffered more
than anybody can know. But God is good, and I will get my health
and strength back soon, and then I will return and we can be married
and everything will be alright. Do not think I do not love you
because I am leaving you like this. I have never loved you so dear as
now. But I am depressed, and I cannot get away from my thoughts.
And please, Alick dear, don't try to find me. I shall be quite alright,
and I shall think of you every night before I go to sleep, and every
morning when I awake. So now I must close with all my love and
kisses.
—BESSIE, xxxxx"
Having written her letter, and blotted it with many tears, she pinned it to
the top of her pillow, without remembering that the telegram lay
underneath. Then she hurried downstairs, swallowed a mouthful of
breakfast standing, said good-bye to her old housemates with an effort at
gaiety, and set off as for the railway station.
She had no intention of going there. The morning haze was thick on the
edge of the sea, and as soon as she was out of sight of the house she slipped
across the fields to a winding lane which led to the open country.
During the night, crying a good deal and stifling her sobs under the bed-
clothes, she had thought out all her plans. It was still two months before her
time, and to be separated from Alick as long as that was too painful to think
about. It was also too dangerous. Long before the end of that time he would
search for her and find her, and then her secret would become known, and
that would be the end of everything.
She had been to blame, but what had she done to be so unhappy? Why
should Nature be so cruel to a girl? Was there no way of escape from it?
At length a light had dawned on her. Remembering what she had heard
of women doing (wives as well as unmarried girls) to get rid of children
who were not wanted, she determined that her own child should be still-
born. Why not? It threatened to separate her from Alick—to turn his love