As Michael grows older and grapples with the difficult truth of his birth, he seeks new ways of conceiving of his background—and understanding how it shapes his identity. At the age of ten, he unites his study of English literature and history with his self-examination through two allusions in a conversation with Helen. This conversation is punctuated by dramatic irony.
But don’t you bother, Auntie. I’ve found out all about my sort in English Hist’ry and the Shakespeare bits. There was William the Conqueror to begin with, and – oh, heaps more, and they all got on first-rate. ’Twon’t make any difference to you, my being that – will it?
This passage contains both a literary allusion and a historical allusion. When Michael states that he "has found out all about [his] sort in English Hist’ry," he initially leaves it up to Helen's (and the reader's) imagination to come up with examples of illegitimate heirs in English history. The one historical example he chooses to name is William the Conqueror, the first Norman king of England. Alternatively known as "William the Bastard," he was the illegitimate son of Duke Robert I of Normandy. William's illegitimate status played a role in the early years of his rule. Eventually, however, he consolidated his power and influence enough to make this detail recede to the background of his identity. Michael brings him up to challenge the shame associated with illegitimacy. As he learns more and more about the world, he seeks comfort in discovering that some of English history's most notable figures shared his circumstances.
He also mentions "the Shakespeare bits," which once again leaves it up to the reader to come up with specific examples. The Shakespeare bit that would probably first occur to most readers is the character Edmund from King Lear, who is the illegitimate son of the Earl of Gloucester. There are many other illegitimate sons in Shakespeare's work. A reason why Michael neglects to name any of them directly might be that they often function as villains in the plays.
These allusions indicate that, as he grows older, Michael seeks new ways of understanding his background. When he was six, he expressed his confusion, discomfort, and shame over being different through anger targeted at Helen. Now, at age ten, he still chooses to confront Helen, but relies on literature and history to cope with these emotions. Michael's language in this passage offers a contemporary reader an idea of how controversial it was to have children out of wedlock at the turn of the century. A word he leaves out, but which he clearly speaks around, is "bastard." Instead of saying this word outright, he says "my sort," "they," and "that." In a world with no tolerance for illegitimacy, even the act of naming his status out loud feels impossible for Michael.
To both Helen and the reader, who know more than Michael does, the question at the end of the quote stirs up many emotions. Largely for the sake of Helen's wellbeing, Michael expresses throughout the passage that he is coming to terms with his murky parentage. Most of all, he wants to make sure that it doesn't have any bearing on how she sees him. This demonstrates that Michael still believes that he is the son of Helen's brother rather than of Helen herself. In his eyes, the shame of extramarital sex lies with his supposed father George and himself, rather than with Helen. Operating from differing sets of information about Michael's parentage, Michael and Helen both grapple with the burden of his illegitimate status.
The story's expositional passages contain a large amount of colloquial language that develops the collective voice of the village. Although the story is narrated by an omniscient third-person narrator, the narration here is focalized from the perspective of the village and eventually of Helen. Contributing to Helen's characterization, the idioms and similes establish her outward persona and give insight into the community she belongs to. The chatter-like tone of the opening passages contrasts sharply with the formal, somber epigraph.
Mercifully, George's father and mother were both dead, and though Helen, thirty-five and independent, might well have washed her hands of the whole disgraceful affair, she most nobly took charge.
The colloquial diction and conversational tone of this sentence make it sound like a direct quote of people familiar with the Turrell family exchanging gossip. For example, by starting the sentence with the word "mercifully," the narrator suggests that the older generation of Turrells wouldn't have handled an illegitimate grandchild well. The notion that they're better off dead than alive with a scandal reinforces the casual yet involved tone, which contributes to the impression that the narrator is mimicking the village's chatter about Helen. The impression that the narrator is speaking in the style of people who know Helen is further reinforced by the idiomatic claim that she "might well have washed her hands of the whole disgraceful affair."
The following paragraph opens with a simile: "All these details were public property, for Helen was as open as the day." On the one hand, this simile seems appropriate, as Helen seems honest and accessible. Later in the story, the reader even finds out that she shares supposed secrets with her friends. On the other hand, this simile is ironic. A perceptive, suspecting reader has most likely caught onto the likelihood that Michael is not Helen's nephew but her own son. Nevertheless, it is possible for Helen to simultaneously be "open as the day" and be Michael's mother, as it appears that the whole village is in on the secret.
