because it shall be cut down！ She had； instead； a sense of
something blessed and uplifting。 Whatever Power had made her
heart； had placed within it this love。 Whatever it was； whoever it
was； could not be angry with her！
A wild bee settled on her arm； and she held it up between her and
the sun； so that she might enjoy its dusky glamour。 It would not
sting hernot to…day！ The little blue butterflies； too； kept
alighting on her； who lay there so still。 And the love…songs of
the wood…pigeons never ceased； nor the faint swish of scything。
At last she rose to make her way home。 A telegram had come saying
simply： 〃Yes。〃 She read it with an unmoved face； having resorted
again to her mask of languor。 Toward tea…time she confessed to
headache； and said she would lie down。 Up there in her room she
spent those three hours writingwriting as best she could all she
had passed through in thought and feeling； before making her
decision。 It seemed to her that she owed it to herself to tell her
lover how she had come to what she had never thought to come to。
She put what she had written in an envelope and sealed it。 She
would give it to him； that he might read and understand； when she
had shown him with all of her how she loved him。 It would pass the
time for him； until to…morrowuntil they set out on their new life
together。 For to…night they would make their plans； and to…morrow
start。
At half…past seven she sent word that her headache was too bad to
allow her to go out。 This brought a visit from Mrs。 Ercott： The
Colonel and she were so distressed； but perhaps Olive was wise not
to exert herself！ And presently the Colonel himself spoke；
lugubriously through the door： Not well enough to come？ No fun
without her！ But she mustn't on any account strain herself！ No；
no！
Her heart smote her at that。 He was always so good to her。
At last； watching from the corridor； she saw them sally forth down
the drivethe Colonel a little in advance； carrying his wife's
evening shoes。 How nice he lookedwith his brown face； and his
grey moustache； so upright； and concerned with what he had in hand！
There was no languor in her now。 She had dressed in white； and now
she took a blue silk cloak with a hood； and caught up the flower
that had so miraculously survived last night's wearing and pinned
it at her breast。 Then making sure no servant was about； she
slipped downstairs and out。 It was just eight； and the sun still
glistened on the dove…cot。 She kept away from that lest the birds
should come fluttering about her； and betray her by cooing。 When
she had nearly reached the tow…path； she stopped affrighted。
Surely something had moved； something heavy； with a sound of broken
branches。 Was it the memory of last night come on her again； or；
indeed； someone there？ She walked back a few steps。 Foolish
alarm！ In the meadow beyond a cow was brushing against the hedge。
And； stealing along the grass； out on to the tow…path； she went
swiftly towards the poplar。
XIX
A hundred times in these days of her absence Lennan had been on the
point of going down； against her orders； just to pass the house；
just to feel himself within reach； to catch a glimpse of her；
perhaps； from afar。 If his body haunted London； his spirit had
passed down on to that river where he had drifted once already；
reconnoitring。 A hundred timesby day in fancy； and by night in
dreamspulling himself along by the boughs； he stole down that dim
backwater； till the dark yews and the white dove…cot came into
view。
For he thought now only of fulfilment。 She was wasting cruelly
away！ Why should he leave her where she was？ Leave her to profane
herself and all womanhood in the arms of a man she hated？
And on that day of mid…June； when he received her telegram； it was
as if he had been handed the key of Paradise。
Would shecould she mean to come away with him that very night？
He would prepare for that at all events。 He had so often in mind
faced this crisis in his affairs； that now it only meant
translating into action what had been carefully thought out。 He
packed； supplied himself liberally with money； and wrote a long
letter to his guardian。 It would hurt the old manGordy was over
seventy nowbut that could not be helped。 He would not post it
till he knew for certain。
After telling how it had all come about； he went on thus： 〃I know
that to many people； and perhaps to you； Gordy； it will seem very
wrong； but it does not to me； and that is the simple truth。
Everybody has his own views on such things； I suppose； and as I
would noton my honour； Gordyever have held or wished to hold；
or ever will hold in marriage or out of marriage； any woman who
does not love me； so I do not think it is acting as I would resent
others acting towards me； to take away from such unhappiness this
lady for whom I would die at any minute。 I do not mean to say that
pity has anything to do with itI thought so at first； but I know
now that it is all swallowed up in the most mighty feeling I have
ever had or ever shall have。 I am not a bit afraid of conscience。
If God is Universal Truth； He cannot look hardly upon us for being
true to ourselves。 And as to people； we shall just hold up our
heads； I think that they generally take you at your own valuation。
But； anyway； Society does not much matter。 We shan't want those
who don't want usyou may be sure。 I hope he will divorce her
quicklythere is nobody much to be hurt by that except you and
Cis； but if he doesn'tit can't be helped。 I don't think she has
anything； but with my six hundred； and what I can make； even if we
have to live abroad； we shall be all right for money。 You have
been awfully good to me always； Gordy； and I am very grieved to
hurt you； and still more sorry if you think I am being ungrateful；
but when one feels as I dobody and soul and spiritthere isn't
any question； there wouldn't be if death itself stood in the way。
If you receive this； we shall be gone together； I will write to you
from wherever we pitch our tent； and； of course； I shall write to
Cicely。 But will you please tell Mrs。 Doone and Sylvia； and give
them my love if they still care to have it。 Good…bye； dear Gordy。
I believe you would have done the same； if you had been I。 Always
your affectionateMARK。〃
In all those preparations he forgot nothing； employing every minute
of the few hours in a sort of methodic exaltation。 The last thing
before setting out he took the damp cloths off his 'bull…man。'
Into the face of the monster there had come of late a hungry；
yearning look。 The artist in him had done his work that
unconscious justice； against his will had set down the truth。 And；
wondering whether he would ever work at it again； he redamped the
cloths and wrapped it carefully。
He did not go to her village； but to one five or six miles down the
riverit was safer； and the row would steady him。 Hiring a skiff；
he pulled up stream。 He travelled very slowly to kill time；
keeping under the far bank。 And as he pulled； his very heart
seemed parched with nervousness。 Was it real that he was going to
her； or only some fantastic trick of Fate； a dream from which he
would wake to find himself alone again？ He passed the dove…cot at
last； and kept on till he could round into the backwater and steal
up under cover to the poplar。 He arrived a few minutes before
eight o'clock； turned the boat round； and waited close beneath the
bank； holding to a branch； and standing so that he could see the
path。 If a man could die from longing and anxiety； surely Lennan
must have died then！
All wind had failed； and the day was fallen into a wonderful still
evening。 Gnats were dancing in the sparse strips of sunlight that
slanted across the dark water； now that the sun was low。 From the
fields； bereft of workers； came the scent of hay and the heavy
scent of meadow…sweet； the musky odour of the backwater was
confused with them into one brooding perfume。 No one passed。 And
sounds were few and far to that wistful listener； for birds did not
sing just there。 How still and warm was the air； yet seemed to
vibrate against his cheeks as though about to break into flame。
That fancy came to him vividly while he stood waitinga vision of
heat simmering in little pale red flames。 On the thick reeds some
large； slow； dusky flies were still feeding； and now and then a
moorhen a few yards away splashed a little； or uttered a sharp；
shrill note。 When she cameif she did come！they would not stay
here； in this dark earthy backwater； he would take her over to the
other side； away to the woods！ But the minutes passed； and his
heart sank。 Then it leaped up。 Someone was comingin white； with
bare head； and something blue or black flung across her arm。 It
was she！ No one else walked like that！ She came very quickly。
And he noticed that her hair looked like little wings on either
side of her brow； as if her face were a white bird with dark wings；
flying to love！ Now she was close； so close that he could see her
lips parted； and her eyes love…lightedlike nothing in the world
but darkness wild with dew and starlight。 He reached up and lifted
her down into the boat； and the scent of some flower pressed
against his face seemed to pierce into him and reach his very
heart； awakening the memory of something past； forgotten。 Then；
seizing the branches； snapping them in his haste； he dragged the
skiff along through the sluggish water； the gnats dancing in his
face。 She seemed to know where he was taking her； and neither of
them spoke a single word； while he pulled out into the open； and
over to the far bank。
There was but one field between them and the wooda field of young
wheat； with a hedge of thorn and alder。 And close to that hedge
they set out； their hands clasped。 They had nothing to say yet
like children saving up。 She had put on her cloak to hide her
dress； and its silk swished against the silvery blades of the
wheat。 What had moved her to put on this blue cloak？ Blue of the
sky； and flowers； of birds' wings； and the black…burning blue of
the night！ The hue of all holy things！ And how still it was in
the late gleam of the su