in this sudden feeling of sick fear。 In the presence of these
'English Grundys；' so superior to all vulgar sensations； he could
not give vent to his alarm； already they viewed him as unsound for
having fainted。 Then he grasped that there had begun all round him
a sort of luxurious speculation on what might have happened to the
Stormers。 The descent was very nasty； there was a particularly bad
traverse。 The 'Grundy；' whose collar was not now crumpled； said he
did not believe in women climbing。 It was one of the signs of the
times that he most deplored。 The mother of the young 'Grundys'
countered him at once： In practice she agreed that they were out of
place； but theoretically she could not see why they should not
climb。 An American standing near threw all into confusion by
saying he guessed that it might be liable to develop their
understandings。 Lennan made for the front door。 The moon had just
come up over in the South； and exactly under it he could see their
mountain。 What visions he had then！ He saw her lying dead； saw
himself climbing down in the moonlight and raising her still…
living； but half…frozen； form from some perilous ledge。 Even that
was almost better than this actuality of not knowing where she was；
or what had happened。 People passed out into the moonlight；
looking curiously at his set face staring so fixedly。 One or two
asked him if he were anxious； and he answered： 〃Oh no； thanks！〃
Soon there would have to be a search party。 How soon？ He would；
he must be； of it！ They should not stop him this time。 And
suddenly he thought： Ah； it is all because I stayed up there this
afternoon talking to that girl； all because I forgot HER！
And then he heard a stir behind him。 There they were； coming down
the passage from a side doorshe in front with her alpenstock and
rucksacksmiling。 Instinctively he recoiled behind some plants。
They passed。 Her sunburned face； with its high cheek…bones and its
deep…set eyes； looked so happy； smiling； tired； triumphant。
Somehow he could not bear it； and when they were gone by he stole
out into the wood and threw himself down in shadow； burying his
face； and choking back a horrible dry sobbing that would keep
rising in his throat。
IX
Next day he was happy； for all the afternoon he lay out in the
shade of that same wood at her feet； gazing up through larch…
boughs。 It was so wonderful； with nobody but Nature near。 Nature
so alive； and busy； and so big！
Coming down from the hut the day before； he had seen a peak that
looked exactly like the figure of a woman with a garment over her
head； the biggest statue in the world； from further down it had
become the figure of a bearded man； with his arm bent over his
eyes。 Had she seen it？ Had she noticed how all the mountains in
moonlight or very early morning took the shape of beasts？ What he
wanted most in life was to be able to make images of beasts and
creatures of all sorts； that were likethat hadthat gave out the
spirit ofNature； so that by just looking at them one could have
all those jolly feelings one had when one was watching trees； and
beasts； and rocks； and even some sorts of menbut not 'English
Grundys。'
So he was quite determined to study Art？
Oh yes； of course！
He would want to leaveOxford； then！
No； oh no！ Only some day he would have to。
She answered： 〃Some never get away！〃
And he said quickly： 〃Of course； I shall never want to leave Oxford
while you are there。〃
He heard her draw her breath in sharply。
〃Oh yes； you will！ Now help me up！〃 And she led the way back to
the hotel。
He stayed out on the terrace when she had gone in； restless and
unhappy the moment he was away from her。 A voice close by said：
〃Well； friend Lennanbrown study； or blue devils； which？〃
There； in one of those high wicker chairs that insulate their
occupants from the world； he saw his tutor leaning back； head a
little to one side； and tips of fingers pressed together。 He
looked like an idol sitting there inert； and yetyesterday he had
gone up that mountain！
〃Cheer up！ You will break your neck yet！ When I was your age； I
remember feeling it deeply that I was not allowed to risk the lives
of others。〃
Lennan stammered out：
〃I didn't think of that； but I thought where Mrs。 Stormer could go；
I could。〃
〃Ah！ For all our admiration we cannot quite admitcan we； when it
comes to the point？〃
The boy's loyalty broke into flame：
〃It's not that。 I think Mrs。 Stormer as good as any manonly
only〃
〃Not quite so good as you； eh？〃
〃A hundred times better； sir。〃
Stormer smiled。 Ironic beast！
〃Lennan；〃 he said； 〃distrust hyperbole。〃
〃Of course； I know I'm no good at climbing；〃 the boy broke out
again； 〃butbutI thought where she was allowed to risk her life；
I ought to be！〃
〃Good！ I like that。〃 It was said so entirely without irony for
once； that the boy was disconcerted。
〃You are young； Brother Lennan；〃 his tutor went on。 〃Now； at what
age do you consider men develop discretion？ Because； there is just
one thing always worth rememberingwomen have none of that better
part of valour。〃
〃I think women are the best things in the world；〃 the boy blurted
out。
〃May you long have that opinion！〃 His tutor had risen； and was
ironically surveying his knees。 〃A bit stiff！〃 he said。 〃Let me
know when you change your views！〃
〃I never shall； sir。〃
〃Ah； ah！ Never is a long word； Lennan。 I am going to have some
tea；〃 and gingerly he walked away； quizzing； as it were； with a
smile； his own stiffness。
Lennan remained where he was； with burning cheeks。 His tutor's
words again had seemed directed against her。 How could a man say
such things about women！ If they were true； he did not want to
know； if they were not true； it was wicked to say them。 It must be
awful never to have generous feelings； always to have to be
satirical。 Dreadful to be like the 'English Grundys'； only
different； of course； because； after all； old Stormer was much more
interesting and intelligentever so much more； only； just as
'superior。' 〃Some never get away！〃 Had she meantfrom that
superiority？ Just down below were a family of peasants scything
and gathering in the grass。 One could imagine her doing that； and
looking beautiful； with a coloured handkerchief over her head； one
could imagine her doing anything simpleone could not imagine old
Stormer doing anything but what he did do。 And suddenly the boy
felt miserable； oppressed by these dim glimmerings of lives
misplaced。 And he resolved that he would not be like Stormer when
he was old！ No； he would rather be a regular beast than be like
that！ 。 。 。
When he went to his room to change for dinner he saw in a glass of
water a large clove carnation。 Who had put it there？ Who could
have put it therebut she？ It had the same scent as the mountain
pinks she had dropped over him； but deeper； richera scent moving；
dark； and sweet。 He put his lips to it before he pinned it into
his coat。
There was dancing again that nightmore couples this time； and a
violin beside the piano； and she had on a black frock。 He had
never seen her in black。 Her face and neck were powdered over
their sunburn。 The first sight of that powder gave him a faint
shock。 He had not somehow thought that ladies ever put on powder。
But if SHE didthen it must be right！ And his eyes never left
her。 He saw the young German violinist hovering round her； even
dancing with her twice； watched her dancing with others； but all
without jealousy； without troubling； all in a sort of dream。 What
was it？ Had he been bewitched into that queer state； bewitched by
the gift of that flower in his coat？ What was it； when he danced
with her； that kept him happy in her silence and his own？ There
was no expectation in him of anything that she would say； or dono
expectation； no desire。 Even when he wandered out with her on to
the terrace； even when they went down the bank and sat on a bench
above the fields where the peasants had been scything； he had still
no feeling but that quiet； dreamy adoration。 The night was black
and dreamy too； for the moon was still well down behind the
mountains。 The little band was playing the next waltz； but he sat；
not moving； not thinking； as if all power of action and thought had
been stolen out of him。 And the scent of the flower in his coat
rose； for there was no wind。 Suddenly his heart stopped beating。
She had leaned against him； he felt her shoulder press his arm； her
hair touch his cheek。 He closed his eyes then； and turned his face
to her。 He felt her lips press his mouth with a swift； burning
kiss。 He sighed； stretched out his arms。 There was nothing there
but air。 The rustle of her dress against the grass was all！ The
flowerit； too； was gone。
X
Not one minute all that night did Anna sleep。 Was it remorse that
kept her awake； or the intoxication of memory？ If she felt that
her kiss had been a crime； it was not against her husband or
herself； but against the boythe murder of illusion； of something
sacred。 But she could not help feeling a delirious happiness too；
and the thought of trying to annul what she had done did not even
occur to her。
He was ready； then； to give her a little love！ Ever so little；
compared to hers； but still a little！ There could be no other
meaning to that movement of his face with the closed eyes； as if he
would nestle it down on her breast。
Was she ashamed of her little manoeuvres of these last few days
ashamed of having smiled at the young violinist； of that late
return from the mountain climb； of the flower she had given him； of
all the conscious siege she had laid since the evening her husband
came in and sat watching her； without knowing that she saw him？
No； not really ashamed！ Her remorse rose only from the kiss。 It
hurt to think of that； because it was death； the final extinction
of the mother…feeling in her； the awakening ofwho knew whatin
the boy！ For if she was mysterious to him； what was he not to her；
with his eagerness； and his dreaminess； his youthful warmth； his
innocence！ What if it had killed in him trust； brushed off the
dew； tumbled a star