And； as before； the only refuge was in work。 The sheepdogs and
'The Girl on the Magpie Horse' were finished。 He began a fantastic
'relief'a nymph peering from behind a rock； and a wild…eyed man
creeping； through reeds； towards her。 If he could put into the
nymph's face something of this lure of Youth and Life and Love that
was dragging at him； into the man's face the state of his own
heart； it might lay that feeling to rest。 Anything to get it out
of himself！ And he worked furiously； laboriously； all October；
making no great progress。 。 。 。 What could he expect when Life was
all the time knocking with that muffled tapping at his door？
It was on the Tuesday； after the close of the last Newmarket
meeting； and just getting dusk； when Life opened the door and
walked in。 She wore a dark…red dress； a new one； and surely her
faceher figurewere very different from what he had remembered！
They had quickened and become poignant。 She was no longer a child
that was at once plain。 Cheeks； mouth； neck； waistall seemed
fined； shaped； the crinkly； light…brown hair was coiled up now
under a velvet cap； only the great grey eyes seemed quite the same。
And at sight of her his heart gave a sort of dive and flight； as if
all its vague and wistful sensations had found their goal。
Then； in sudden agitation； he realized that his last moment with
this girlnow a child no longerhad been a secret moment of
warmth and of emotion； a moment which to her might have meant； in
her might have bred； feelings that he had no inkling of。 He tried
to ignore that fighting and diving of his heart； held out his hand；
and murmured：
〃Ah； Nell！ Back at last！ You've grown。〃 Then； with a sensation
of every limb gone weak； he felt her arms round his neck； and
herself pressed against him。 There was time for the thought to
flash through him： This is terrible！ He gave her a little
convulsive squeezecould a man do less？then just managed to push
her gently away； trying with all his might to think： She's a child！
It's nothing more than after Carmen！ She doesn't know what I am
feeling！ But he was conscious of a mad desire to clutch her to
him。 The touch of her had demolished all his vagueness； made
things only too plain； set him on fire。
He said uncertainly：
〃Come to the fire； my child； and tell me all about it。〃
If he did not keep to the notion that she was just a child； his
head would go。 Perdita'the lost one'！ A good name for her；
indeed； as she stood there； her eyes shining in the firelightmore
mesmeric than ever they had been！ And； to get away from the lure
of those eyes； he bent down and raked the grate； saying：
〃Have you seen Sylvia？〃 But he knew that she had not； even before
she gave that impatient shrug。 Then he pulled himself together；
and said：
〃What has happened to you； child？〃
〃I'm not a child。〃
〃No； we've both grown older。 I was forty…seven the other day。〃
She caught his handHeavens！ how supple she was！and murmured：
〃You're not old a bit； you're quite young。〃 At his wits' end； with
his heart thumping； but still keeping his eyes away from her； he
said：
〃Where is Oliver？〃
She dropped his hand at that。
〃Oliver？ I hate him！〃
Afraid to trust himself near her； he had begun walking up and down。
And she stood； following him with her gazethe firelight playing
on her red frock。 What extraordinary stillness！ What power she
had developed in these few months！ Had he let her see that he felt
that power？ And had all this come of one little moment in a dark
corridor； of one flower pressed into his hand？ Why had he not
spoken to her roughly thentold her she was a romantic little
fool？ God knew what thoughts she had been feeding on！ But who
could have supposedwho dreamed？ And again he fixed his mind
resolutely on that thought： She's a childonly a child！
〃Come！〃 he said： 〃tell me all about your time in Ireland？〃
〃Oh！ it was just dullit's all been dull away from you。〃
It came out without hesitancy or shame； and he could only murmur：
〃Ah！ you've missed your drawing！〃
〃Yes。 Can I come to…morrow？〃
That was the moment to have said： No！ You are a foolish child； and
I an elderly idiot！ But he had neither courage nor clearness of
mind enough； northe desire。 And； without answering； he went
towards the door to turn up the light。
〃Oh； no！ please don't！ It's so nice like this！〃
The shadowy room； the bluish dusk painted on all the windows； the
fitful shining of the fire； the pallor and darkness of the dim
casts and bronzes； and that one glowing figure there before the
hearth！ And her voice； a little piteous； went on：
〃Aren't you glad I'm back？ I can't see you properly out there。〃
He went back into the glow； and she gave a little sigh of
satisfaction。 Then her calm young voice said； ever so distinctly：
〃Oliver wants me to marry him； and I won't； of course。〃
He dared not say： Why not？ He dared not say anything。 It was too
dangerous。 And then followed those amazing words： 〃You know why；
don't you？ Of course you do。〃
It was ridiculous； almost shameful to understand their meaning。
And he stood； staring in front of him； without a word； humility；
dismay； pride； and a sort of mad exultation； all mixed and seething
within him in the queerest pudding of emotion。 But all he said
was：
〃Come； my child； we're neither of us quite ourselves to…night。
Let's go to the drawing…room。〃
IX
Back in the darkness and solitude of the studio； when she was gone；
he sat down before the fire； his senses in a whirl。 Why was he not
just an ordinary animal of a man that could enjoy what the gods had
sent？ It was as if on a November day someone had pulled aside the
sober curtains of the sky and there in a chink had been April
standingthick white blossom； a purple cloud； a rainbow； grass
vivid green； light flaring from one knew not where； and such a
tingling passion of life on it all as made the heart stand still！
This； then； was the marvellous； enchanting； maddening end of all
that year of restlessness and wanting！ This bit of Spring suddenly
given to him in the midst of Autumn。 Her lips； her eyes； her hair；
her touching confidence； above allquite unbelievableher love。
Not really love perhaps； just childish fancy。 But on the wings of
fancy this child would fly far； too farall wistfulness and warmth
beneath that light veneer of absurd composure。
To live againto plunge back into youth and beautyto feel Spring
once moreto lose the sense of all being over； save just the sober
jogtrot of domestic bliss； to know； actually to know； ecstasy
again； in the love of a girl； to rediscover all that youth yearns
for； and feels； and hopes； and dreads； and loves。 It was a
prospect to turn the head even of a decent man。 。 。 。
By just closing his eyes he could see her standing there with the
firelight glow on her red frock； could feel again that marvellous
thrill when she pressed herself against him in the half…innocent；
seducing moment when she first came in； could feel again her eyes
drawingdrawing him！ She was a witch； a grey…eyed； brown…haired
witcheven unto her love of red。 She had the witch's power of
lighting fever in the veins。 And he simply wondered at himself；
that he had not； as she stood there in the firelight； knelt； and
put his arms round her and pressed his face against her waist。 Why
had he not？ But he did not want to think； the moment thought began
he knew he must be torn this way and that； tossed here and there
between reason and desire； pity and passion。 Every sense struggled
to keep him wrapped in the warmth and intoxication of this
discovery that he； in the full of Autumn； had awakened love in
Spring。 It was amazing that she could have this feeling； yet there
was no mistake。 Her manner to Sylvia just now had been almost
dangerously changed； there had been a queer cold impatience in her
look； frightening from one who but three months ago had been so
affectionate。 And； going away； she had whispered； with that old
trembling…up at him； as if offering to be kissed： 〃I may come；
mayn't I？ And don't be angry with me； please； I can't help it。〃 A
monstrous thing at his age to let a young girl love himcompromise
her future！ A monstrous thing by all the canons of virtue and
gentility！ And yetwhat future？with that naturethose eyes
that originwith that father； and that home？ But he would not
simply must not think！
Nevertheless； he showed the signs of thought； and badly； for after
dinner Sylvia； putting her hand on his forehead； said：
〃You're working too hard； Mark。 You don't go out enough。〃
He held those fingers fast。 Sylvia！ No； indeed he must not think！
But he took advantage of her words； and said that he would go out
and get some air。
He walked at a great paceto keep thought awaytill he reached
the river close to Westminster； and； moved by sudden impulse；
seeking perhaps an antidote； turned down into that little street
under the big Wren church； where he had never been since the summer
night when he lost what was then more to him than life。 There SHE
had lived； there was the housethose windows which he had stolen
past and gazed at with such distress and longing。 Who lived there
now？ Once more he seemed to see that face out of the past； the
dark hair； and dark soft eyes； and sweet gravity； and it did not
reproach him。 For this new feeling was not a love like that had
been。 Only once could a man feel the love that passed all things；
the love before which the world was but a spark in a draught of
wind； the love that； whatever dishonour； grief； and unrest it might
come through； alone had in it the heart of peace and joy and
honour。 Fate had torn that love from him； nipped it off as a sharp
wind nips off a perfect flower。 This new feeling was but a fever；
a passionate fancy； a grasping once more at Youth and Warmth。 Ah；
well！ but it was real enough！ And； in one of those moments when a
man stands outside himself； seems to be lifted away and see his own
life twirling； Lennan had a vision of a shadow driven here and
there； a straw going round and round； a midge in the grip of a mad
wind。 Where was the home of this mighty secret feeling that s