one unbearable thing to have been left remembering！ She stood long
looking down； as if trying to see the future in her dim flower…
beds； then； bracing herself； hurried to the house。 No one was on
the veranda； no one in the drawing…room。 She looked at the clock。
Nearly eleven。 Ringing for the servant to shut the windows； she
stole up to her room。 Had her husband gone away as he had come？
Or would she presently again be face to face with that dread； the
nerve of which never stopped aching now； dread of the night when he
was near？ She determined not to go to bed； and drawing a long
chair to the window； wrapped herself in a gown； and lay back。
The flower from her dress； miraculously uncrushed in those dark
minutes on the grass； she set in water beside her at the window
Mark's favourite flower； he had once told her； it was a comfort；
with its scent； and hue； and memory of him。
Strange that in her life； with all the faces seen； and people
known； she had not loved one till she had met Lennan！ She had even
been sure that love would never come to her； had not wanted it
very much； had thought to go on well enough； and pass out at the
end； never having known； or much cared to know； full summer。 Love
had taken its revenge on her now for all slighted love offered her
in the past； for the one hated love that had to…night been on its
knees to her。 They said it must always come once to every man and
womanthis witchery； this dark sweet feeling； springing up； who
knew how or why？ She had not believed； but now she knew。 And
whatever might be coming； she would not have this different。 Since
all things changed； she must change and get old and be no longer
pretty for him to look at； but this in her heart could not change。
She felt sure of that。 It was as if something said： This is for
ever； beyond life； beyond death； this is for ever！ He will be
dust； and you dust； but your love will live！ Somewherein the
woods； among the flowers； or down in the dark water； it will haunt！
For it only you have lived！ 。 。 。 Then she noticed that a slender
silvery…winged thing； unlike any moth she had ever seen； had
settled on her gown； close to her neck。 It seemed to be sleeping；
so delicate and drowsy； having come in from the breathless dark；
thinking； perhaps； that her whiteness was a light。 What dim memory
did it rouse； something of HIM； something HE had donein darkness；
on a night like this。 Ah； yes！ that evening after Gorbio； the
little owl…moth on her knee！ He had touched her when he took that
cosy wan velvet…eyed thing off her！
She leaned out for air。 What a night！whose stars were hiding in
the sheer heavy warmth； whose small； round； golden moon had no
transparency！ A night like a black pansy with a little gold heart。
And silent！ For； of the trees； that whispered so much at night；
not even the aspens had voice。 The unstirring air had a dream…
solidity against her cheeks。 But in all the stillness； what
sentiency； what passionas in her heart！ Could she not draw HIM
to her from those woods； from that dark gleaming river； draw him
from the flowers and trees and the passion…mood of the skydraw
him up to her waiting here； so that she was no more this craving
creature； but one with him and the night！ And she let her head
droop down on her hands。
All night long she stayed there at the window。 Sometimes dozing in
the chair； once waking with a start； fancying that her husband was
bending over her。 Had he beenand stolen away？ And the dawn
came； dew…grey； filmy and wistful； woven round each black tree； and
round the white dove…cot； and falling scarf…like along the river。
And the chirrupings of birds stirred among leaves as yet invisible。
She slept then。
XVIII
When she awoke once more； in daylight； smiling； Cramier was
standing beside her chair。 His face； all dark and bitter； had the
sodden look of a man very tired。
〃So！〃 he said： 〃Sleeping this way doesn't spoil your dreams。 Don't
let me disturb them。 I am just going back to Town。〃
Like a frightened bird； she stayed； not stirring； gazing at his
back as he leaned in the window； till； turning round on her again；
he said：
〃But remember this： What I can't have； no one else shall！ Do you
understand？ No one else！〃 And he bent down close； repeating： 〃Do
you understandyou bad wife！〃
Four years' submission to a touch she shrank from； one long effort
not to shrink！ Bad wife！ Not if he killed her would she answer
now！
〃Do you hear？〃 he said once more： 〃Make up your mind to that。 I
mean it。〃
He had gripped the arms of her chair； till she could feel it quiver
beneath her。 Would he drive his fist into her face that she
managed to keep still smiling？ But there only passed into his eyes
an expression which she could not read。
〃Well；〃 he said； 〃you know！〃 and walked heavily towards the door。
The moment he had gone she sprang up： Yes； she was a bad wife！ A
wife who had reached the end of her tether。 A wife who hated
instead of loving。 A wife in prison！ Bad wife！ Martyrdom； then；
for the sake of a faith in her that was lost already； could be but
folly。 If she seemed bad and false to him； there was no longer
reason to pretend to be otherwise。 No longer would she； in the
words of the old song：'sit and sighpulling bracken； pulling
bracken。' No more would she starve for want of love； and watch the
nights throb and ache； as last night had throbbed and ached； with
the passion that she might not satisfy。
And while she was dressing she wondered why she did not look tired。
To get out quickly！ To send her lover word at once to hasten to
her while it was safethat she might tell him she was coming to
him out of prison！ She would telegraph for him to come that
evening with a boat； opposite the tall poplar。 She and her Aunt
and Uncle were to go to dinner at the Rectory； but she would plead
headache at the last minute。 When the Ercotts had gone she would
slip out； and he and she would row over to the wood； and be
together for two hours of happiness。 And they must make a clear
plan； toofor to…morrow they would begin their life together。 But
it would not be safe to send that message from the village； she
must go down and over the bridge to the post…office on the other
side； where they did not know her。 It was too late now before
breakfast。 Better after； when she could slip away； knowing for
certain that her husband had gone。 It would still not be too late
for her telegramLennan never left his rooms till the midday post
which brought her letters。
She finished dressing； and knowing that she must show no trace of
her excitement； sat quite still for several minutes； forcing
herself into languor。 Then she went down。 Her husband had
breakfasted and gone。 At everything she did； and every word she
spoke； she was now smiling with a sort of wonder； as if she were
watching a self； that she had abandoned like an old garment；
perform for her amusement。 It even gave her no feeling of remorse
to think she was going to do what would be so painful to the good
Colonel。 He was dear to herbut it did not matter。 She was past
all that。 Nothing matterednothing in the world！ It amused her
to believe that her Uncle and Aunt misread her last night's walk in
the dark garden； misread her languor and serenity。 And at the
first moment possible she flew out； and slipped away under cover of
the yew…trees towards the river。 Passing the spot where her
husband had dragged her down to him on her knees in the grass； she
felt a sort of surprise that she could ever have been so terrified。
What was he？ The pastnothing！ And she flew on。 She noted
carefully the river bank opposite the tall poplar。 It would be
quite easy to get down from there into a boat。 But they would not
stay in that dark backwater。 They would go over to the far side
into those woods from which last night the moon had risen； those
woods from which the pigeons mocked her every morning； those woods
so full of summer。 Coming back； no one would see her landing； for
it would be pitch dark in the backwater。 And； while she hurried；
she looked back across her shoulder； marking where the water；
entering； ceased to be bright。 A dragon…fly brushed her cheek； she
saw it vanish where the sunlight failed。 How suddenly its happy
flight was quenched in that dark shade； as a candle flame blown
out。 The tree growth there was too thickthe queer stumps and
snags had uncanny shapes； as of monstrous creatures； whose eyes
seemed to peer out at you。 She shivered。 She had seen those
monsters with their peering eyes somewhere。 Ah！ In her dream at
Monte Carlo of that bull…face staring from the banks； while she
drifted by； unable to cry out。 No！ The backwater was not a happy
placethey would not stay there a single minute。 And more swiftly
than ever she flew on along the path。 Soon she had crossed the
bridge； sent off her message； and returned。 But there were ten
hours to get through before eight o'clock； and she did not hurry
now。 She wanted this day of summer to herself alone； a day of
dreaming till he came； this day for which all her life till now had
been shaping herthe day of love。 Fate was very wonderful！ If
she had ever loved before； if she had known joy in her marriage
she could never have been feeling what she was feeling now； what
she well knew she would never feel again。 She crossed a new…mown
hayfield； and finding a bank； threw herself down on her back among
its uncut grasses。 Far away at the other end men were scything。
It was all very beautifulthe soft clouds floating； the clover…
stalks pushing themselves against her palms； and stems of the tall
couch grass cool to her cheeks； little blue butterflies； a lark；
invisible； the scent of the ripe hay； and the gold…fairy arrows of
the sun on her face and limbs。 To grow and reach the hour of
summer； all must do that！ That was the meaning of Life！ She had
no more doubts and fears。 She had no more dread； no bitterness；
and no remorse for what she was going to do。 She was doing it
because she must。 。 。 。 As well might grass stay its ripening
because it shall be cut down！ She had； instead； a sense of
something blessed and