Andthentherebrokeonhimoneofthosedeliriouswavesofnaturaldesire,againstwhichhehadsooftenfought,sooftenwithgreatpainconquered。Hegotup,andrandownhill,leapingoverthestones,andthethickerclumpsofheather。
　　AudreyNoel,too,hadbeenearlyastir,thoughshehadgonelateenoughtobed。Shedressedlanguidly,butverycarefully,beingoneofthosewomenwhoputonarmouragainstFate,becausetheyareproud,anddislikethethoughtthattheirsufferingsshouldmakeotherssuffer;because,too,theirbodiesaretothemasitweresacred,havingbeengiventhemintrust,tocausedelight。Whenshehadfinished,shelookedatherselfintheglassrathermoredistrustfullythanusual。Shefeltthathersortofwomanwasatadiscountinthesedays,andbeingsensitive,shewasnevercontenteitherwithherappearance,orherhabits。But,forallthat,shewentonbehavinginunsatisfactoryways,becausesheincorrigiblylovedtolookascharmingasshecould;andevenifnooneweregoingtoseeher,sheneverfeltthatshelookedcharmingenough。Shewas——asLadyCasterleyhadshrewdlyguessed——thekindofwomanwhospoilsmenbybeingtoonicetothem;ofnousetothosewhowishwomentoassertthemselves;yethavingacertainpassivestoicism,verydisconcerting。Withlittleornopowerofinitiative,shewoulddowhatshewassettodowithathoroughnessthatwouldshameaninitiator;temperamentallyunabletobeganythingofanybody,sherequiredloveasaplantrequireswater;shecouldgiveherselfcompletely,yetremainoddlyincorruptible;inaword,hopeless,andusuallybelovedofthosewhothoughtherso。
　　Withallthis,however,shewasnotquitewhatiscalleda'sweetwoman——aphraseshedetested——fortherewasinheraqueerveinofgentlecynicism。She'saw'withextraordinaryclearness,asifshehadbeenborninItalyandstillcarriedthatcleardryatmosphereabouthersoul。Shelovedglowandwarmthandcolour;suchmysticismasshefeltwaspagan;andshehadfewaspirations——sufficienttoherwerethingsastheyshowedthemselvestobe。
　　Thismorning,whenshehadmadeherselfsmellofgeraniums,andfastenedallthesmallcontrivancesthatholdeventhebestofwomentogether,shewentdownstairstoherlittledining—room,setthespiritlampgoing,andtakinguphernewspaper,stoodwaitingtomaketea。
　　Itwasthehourofthedaymostdeartoher。Ifthedewhadbeenbrushedoffherlife,itwasstilloutthereeverymorningonthefaceofNature,andonthefacesofherflowers;therewasbeforeherallthepleasureofseeinghoweachofthoselittlecreaturesinthegardenhadslept;howmanychildrenhadbeenbornsincetheDawn;whowasailing,andneededattention。Therewasalsothefeeling,whichrenewsitselfeverymorninginpeoplewholivelonelylives,thattheyarenotlonely,until,thedaywearingon,assuresthemofthefact。Notthatshewasidle,forshehadobtainedthroughCourtiertheworkofreviewingmusicinawoman'spaper,forwhichshewasintuitivelyfitted。This,herflowers,herownmusic,andtheaffairsofcertainfamiliesofcottagers,fillednearlyallhertime。
　　Andsheaskednobetterfatethantohaveeveryminuteoccupied,havingthatpassionforworkrequiringnoinitiation,whichisnaturaltotheownersoflazyminds。
　　Suddenlyshedroppedhernewspaper,wenttothebowlofflowersonthebreakfast—table,andpluckedforthtwostalksoflavender;
　　holdingthemawayfromher,shewentoutintothegarden,andflungthemoverthewall。
　　Thisstrangeimmolationofthosetwopoorsprigs,bornsoearly,gatheredandplacedbeforeherwithsuchkindintentionbyhermaid,seemedofallactstheleasttobeexpectedofonewhohatedtohurtpeople'sfeelings,andwhoseeyesalwaysshoneatthesightofflowers。Butintruththesmelloflavender——thatscentcarriedonherhusband'shandkerchiefandclothes——stillaffectedhersostronglythatshecouldnotbeartobeinaroomwithit。Asnothingelsedid,itbroughtbeforeherone,tolivewithwhomhadslowlybecometorture。Andfreedbythatscent,thewholefloodofmemorybrokeinonher。Thememoryofthreeyearswhenherteethhadbeensetdoggedly,onherdiscoverythatshewaschainedtounhappinessforlife;thememoryoftheabruptend,andofhercreepingawaytoletherscorchednervesrecover。Ofhowduringthefirstyearofthisreleasewhichwasnotfreedom,shehadtwicechangedherabode,togetawayfromherownstory——notbecauseshewasashamedofit,butbecauseitremindedherofwretchedness。OfhowshehadthencometoMonkland,wherethequietlifehadslowlygivenherelasticityagain。AndthenofhermeetingwithMiltoun;theunexpecteddelightofthatcompanionship;thefrankenjoymentofthefirstfourmonths。Andsherememberedallhersecretrejoicing,hersilentidentificationofanotherlifewithherown,beforesheacknowledgedorevensuspectedlove。Andjustthreeweeksagonow,helpingtotieupherroses,hehadtouchedher,andshehadknown。
　　Buteventhen,untilthenightofCourtier'saccident,shehadnotdaredtorealize。Moreconcernednowforhimthanforherself,sheaskedherselfathousandtimesifshehadbeentoblame。Shehadlethimgrowfondofher,awomanoutofcourt,adeadwoman！Anunpardonablesin！Yetsurelythatdependedonwhatshewaspreparedtogive！Andshewasfranklyreadytogiveeverything,andaskfornothing。Heknewherposition,hehadtoldherthatheknew。Inherloveforhimshegloried,wouldcontinuetoglory;wouldsufferforitwithoutregret。Miltounwasrightinbelievingthatnewspapergossipwasincapableofhurtingher,thoughherreasonsforbeingsoimperviouswerenotwhathesupposed。Shewasnot,likehim,securedfrompainbecausesuchinsinuationsabouttheprivateaffairsofothersweremeanandvulgarandbeneathnotice;ithadnotasyetoccurredtohertolookatthematterinsoloftyandgeneralalight;shesimplywasnothurt,becauseshewasalreadysodeeplyMiltoun'spropertyinspirit,thatshewasalmostgladthattheyshouldassignhimalltherestofher。ButforMiltoun'ssakeshewasdisturbedtothesoul。Shehadtarnishedhisshieldintheeyesofmen;and（forshewasoddlypractical,andsawthingsinveryclearproportion）perhapsputbackhiscareer,whoknewhowmanyyears！
　　Shesatdowntodrinkhertea。Notbeingacryingwoman,shesufferedquietly。ShefeltthatMiltounwouldbecomingtoher。Shedidnotknowatallwhatsheshouldsaywhenhedidcome。Hecouldnotcareforhersomuchasshecaredforhim！Hewasaman;mensoonforget！Ah！buthewasnotlikemostmen。Onecouldnotlookathiseyeswithoutfeelingthathecouldsufferterribly！Inallthisherownreputationconcernedhernotatall。Life,andherclearwayoflookingatthings,hadrootedinhertheconvictionthattoawomanthepreciousnessofherreputationwasafictioninventedbymenentirelyforman'sbenefit;asecond—handfetishinsidiously,inevitablyset—upbymenforworship,innovels,plays,andlaw—
　　courts。Herinstincttoldherthatmencouldnotfeelsecureinthepossessionoftheirwomenunlesstheycouldbelievethatwomensettremendousstorebysexualreputation。Whattheywantedtobelieve,thattheydidbelieve！Butsheknewotherwise。Suchgreat—mindedwomenasshehadmetorreadofhadalwaysleftonhertheimpressionthatreputationforthemwasamatterofthespirit,havinglittletodowithsex。Fromherownfeelingssheknewthatreputation,forasimplewoman,meanttostandwellintheeyesofhimorherwhomshelovedbest。Forworldlywomen——andthereweresomanykindsofthose,besidesthemerelyfashionable——shehadalwaysnotedthatitsvaluewasnotintrinsic,butcommercial;notacrownofdignity,butjustamarketableasset。ShedidnotdreadintheleastwhatpeoplemightsayofherfriendshipwithMiltoun;nordidshefeelatallthatherindissolublemarriageforbadeherlovinghim。Shehadsecretlyfeltfreeassoonasshehaddiscoveredthatshehadneverreallylovedherhusband;shehadonlygoneondutifullyuntiltheseparation,fromsheerpassivity,andbecauseitwasagainsthernaturetocausepaintoanyone。Themanwhowasstillherhusbandwasnowasdeadtoherasifhehadneverbeenborn。Shecouldnotmarryagain,itwastrue;butshecouldanddidlove。Ifthatlovewastobestarvedanddieaway,itwouldnotbebecauseofanymoralscruples。
　　Sheopenedherpaperlanguidly;andalmostthefirstwordssheread,undertheheadingofElectionNews,werethese:
　　'AproposoftheoutrageonMr。Courtier,wearerequestedtostatethattheladywhoaccompaniedLordMiltountotherescueofthatgentlemanwasMrs。LeesNoel,wifeoftheRev。StephenLeesNoel,vicarofClathampton,Warwickshire。'
　　Thisdubiouslittledaubofwhitewashonlybroughtarathersadsmiletoherlips。Shelefthertea,andwentoutintotheair。ThereatthegatewasMiltouncomingin。Herheartleaped。Butshewentforwardquietly,andgreetedhimwithcast—downeyes,asifnothingwereoutoftheordinary。
　　CHAPTERXV
　　ExaltationhadnotleftMiltoun。Hissallowfacewasflushed,hiseyesglowedwithasortofbeauty;andAudreyNoelwho,betterthanmostwomen,couldreadwhatwaspassingbehindaface,sawthoseeyeswiththedelightofamothflutteringtowardsalamp。Butinaveryunemotionalvoiceshesaid:
　　"Soyouhavecometobreakfast。Howniceofyou！
　　ItwasnotinMiltountoobservetheformalitiesofattack。Hadhebeengoingtofightadueltherewouldhavebeennopreliminary,justalook,abow,andtheswordscrossed。Sointhisfirstengagementofhiswiththesoulofawoman！
　　Heneithersatdownnorsufferedhertosit,butstoodlookingintentlyintoherface,andsaid:
　　"Iloveyou。"
　　Nowthatithadcome,withthisdisconcertingswiftness,shewasstrangelycalm,andunashamed。Theelationofknowingforsurethatshewaslovedwaslikeawandwavingawayalltremors,stillingthemtosweetness。Sincenothingcouldtakeawaythatknowledge,itseemedthatshecouldneveragainbeutterlyunhappy。Then,too,inhernature,sodeeply,unreasoninglyincapableofperceivingtheimportanceofanyprinciplebutlove,therewasasecretfeelingofassurance,oftriumph。Hedidloveher！Andshe,him！Well！Andsuddenlypanic—stricken,lestheshouldtakebackthosewords,sheputherhanduptohisbreast,andsaid:
　　"AndIloveyou。"
　　Thefeelofhisarmsroundher,thestrengthandpassionofthatmoment,weresoterriblysweet,thatshediedtothought,justlookingupathim,withlipspartedandeyesdarkerwiththedepthofherlovethanhehadeverdreamedthateyescouldbe。Themadnessofhisownfeelingkepthimsilent。Andtheystoodthere,somergedinoneanotherthattheyknewandcarednothingforanyothermortalthing。Itwasverystillintheroom;therosesandcarnationsinthelustrebowl,seemingtoknowthattheirmistresswascaughtupintoheaven,hadlettheirperfumestealforthandoccupyeverycrannyoftheabandonedair;ahoveringbee,too,circledroundthelovers'heads,scenting,itseemed,thehoneyintheirhearts。
　　IthasbeensaidthatMiltoun'sfacewasnotunhandsome;forAudreyNoelatthismomentwhenhiseyesweresonearhers,andhislipstouchingher,hewastransfigured,andhadbecomethespiritofallbeauty。Andshe,withheartbeatingfastagainsthim,hereyes,halfclosingfromdelight,andherhairaskingtobepraisedwithitsfragrance,hercheeksfaintingpalewithemotion,andherarmstoolanguidwithhappinesstoembracehim——she,tohim,wastheincarnationofthewomanthatvisitsdreams。
　　Sopassedthatmoment。
　　Thebeeendedit;who,impatientwithflowersthathidtheirhoneysodeep,hadentangledhimselfinAudrey'shair。Andthen,seeingthatwords,thosedreadedthings,wereonhislips,shetriedtokissthemback。Buttheycame:
　　"Whenwillyoumarryme？"
　　Itallswayedalittle。Andwithmarvellousrapiditythewholepositionstartedupbeforeher。Shesaw,withpreternaturalinsight,intoitsnooksandcorners。Somethinghehadsaidoneday,whentheyweretalkingoftheChurchviewofmarriageanddivorce,lightedallup。Sohehadreallyneverknownabouther！Atthismomentofuttersickness,shewassavedfromfaintingbyhersenseofhumour——hercynicism。Notcontenttoletherbe,people'stongueshaddivorcedher;hehadbelievedthem！Andthecrownofironywasthatheshouldwanttomarryher,whenshefeltsoutterly,sosacredlyhis,todowhathelikedwithsansformsorceremonies。AsurgeofbitterfeelingagainstthemanwhostoodbetweenherandMiltounalmostmadehercryout。Thatmanhadcapturedherbeforesheknewtheworldorherownsoul,andshewastiedtohim,tillbysomebeneficentchancehedrewhislastbreathwhenherhairwasgrey,andhereyeshadnolovelight,andhercheeksnolongergrewpalewhentheywerekissed;
　　whentwilighthadfallen,andtheflowers,andbeesnolongercaredforher。
　　Itwasthatfeeling,thesuddenrevoltofthedesperateprisoner,whichsteeledhertoputoutherhand,takeupthepaper,andgiveittoMiltoun。
　　Whenhehadreadthelittleparagraph,therefollowedoneofthoseeternitieswhichlastperhapstwominutes。
　　Hesaid,then:
　　"It'strue,Isuppose？"And,athersilence,added:"Iamsorry。"
　　Thisqueerdrysayingwassomuchmoreterriblethananyoutcry,thatsheremained,deprivedevenofthepowerofbreathing,withhereyesstillfixedonMiltoun'sface。
　　ThesmileoftheoldCardinalhadcomeupthere,andwastoherlikealivingaccusation。Itseemedstrangethatthehumofthebeesandfliesandthegentleswishingofthelimetreeshouldstillgoonoutside,insistingthattherewasaworldmovingandbreathingapartfromher,andcarelessofhermisery。Thensomeofhercouragecameback,andwithitherwoman'smutepower。Itcamehauntingaboutherface,perfectlystill,aboutherlips,sensitiveanddrawn,abouthereyes,dark,almostmutinousundertheirarchedbrows。Shestood,drawinghimwithsilenceandbeauty。
　　Atlasthespoke:
　　"Ihavemadeafoolishmistake,itseems。Ibelievedyouwerefree。"
　　Herlipsjustmovedforthewordstopass:"Ithoughtyouknew。I
　　never,dreamedyouwouldwanttomarryme。"
　　Itseemedtohernaturalthatheshouldbethinkingonlyofhimself,butwiththesubtlestdefensiveinstinct,sheputforwardherowntragedy:
　　"IsupposeIhadgottoousedtoknowingIwasdead。"
　　"Istherenorelease？"
　　"None。Wehaveneitherofusdonewrong;besideswithhim,marriageis——forever。"
　　"MyGod！"
　　Shehadbrokenhissmile,whichhadbeencruelwithoutmeaningtobecruel;andwithasmileofherownthatwascrueltoo,shesaid:
　　"Ididn'tknowthatyoubelievedinreleaseeither。"
　　Then,asthoughshehadstabbedherselfinstabbinghim,herfacequivered。
　　Helookedathernow,consciousatlastthatshewassuffering。Andshefeltthathewasholdinghimselfinwithallhismightfromtakingheragainintohisarms。Seeingthis,thewarmthcreptbacktoherlips,andalittlelightintohereyes,whichshekepthiddenfromhim。Thoughshestoodsoproudlystill,somewistfulforcewascomingfromher,asfromamagnet,andMiltoun'shandsandarmsandfacetwitchedasthoughpalsied。Thisstruggle,dumbandpitiful,seemednevertobecomingtoanendinthelittlewhiteroom,darkenedbythethatchoftheverandah,andsweetwiththescentofpinksandofawoodfirejustlightedsomewhereoutattheback。
　　Then,withoutaword,heturnedandwentout。Sheheardthewicketgateswingto。Hewasgone。
　　CHAPTERXVI
　　LordDeniswasfly—fishing——theweatherjusttoobrighttoallowthelittletroutofthatshallow,neversilentstreamtoembracewithaviditythesmallenticementswhichhethrewintheirdirection。
　　Neverthelesshecontinuedtoinvitethem,exploringeverynookoftheirwaterypathwaywithhissoft—swishingline。Inaroughsuitandbatteredhatadornedwiththoseartificialandotherflies,whichinfestHarristweed,hecreptalongamongthehazelbushesandthorn—
　　trees,perfectlyhappy。Likeanoldspaniel,whohasoncegloriedinthefetchingofhares,rabbits,andallmanneroffowl,andisnowgladifyouwillbutthrowastickforhim,soone,whohadbeenafamousfisherbeforetheLord,whohadharriedthewatersofScotlandandNorway,FloridaandIceland,nowpursuedtroutnobiggerthansardines。Theglamourofathousandmemorieshallowedthehourshethusspentbythatbrownwater。Hefishedunhasting,religious,likesomegoodCatholicaddingonemoretotherowofbeadsalreadytold,asthoughhewouldfishhimself,gravely,withoutcomplaint,intotheotherworld。Witheachfishcaughtheexperiencedasolemnsatisfaction。
　　ThoughhewouldhavelikedBarbarawithhimthatmorning,hehadonlylookedatheronceafterbreakfastinsuchawaythatshecouldnotseehim,andwithadrysmilegoneoffbyhimself。Downbythestreamitwasdappled,bothcoolandwarm,windless;thetreesmetovertheriver,andthereweremanystones,forminglittlebasinswhichhelduptheripple,sothatthecastingofaflyrequiredmuchcunning。Thislongdingleranformilesthroughthefoot—growthoffoldinghills。Itwasbelovedofjays;butofhumanbeingstherewerenone,exceptachicken—farmer'swidow,wholivedinahousethatchedalmosttotheground,andmadeherlivelihoodbydirectingtourists,withsuchcunningthattheysooncamebacktoherfortea。
　　ItwaswhilethrowingaratherlongerlinethanusualtoreachalittledarkpieceofcrispwaterthatLordDennisheardtheswishingandcracklingofsomeoneadvancingatfullspeed。Hefrownedslightly,feelingforthenervesofhisfishes,whomhedidnotwishstartled。TheinvaderwasMiltoun,hot,pale,dishevelled,withaqueer,huntedlookonhisface。Hestoppedonseeinghisgreat—
　　uncle,andinstantlyassumedthemaskofhissmile。
　　LordDenniswasnotthemantoseewhatwasnotintendedforhim,andhemerelysaid:
　　"Well,Eustace！"ashemighthavespoken,meetinghisnephewinthehallofoneofhisLondonClubs。
　　Miltoun,nolesspolite,murmured:
　　"HopeIhaven'tlostyouanything。"
　　LordDennisshookhishead,andlayinghisrodonthebank,said:
　　"Sitdownandhaveachat,oldfellow。Youdon'tfish,Ithink？"
　　Hehadnot,intheleast,missedthesufferingbehindMiltoun'smask;
　　hiseyeswerestillgood,andtherewasalittlematterofsometwentyyears'sufferingofhisownonaccountofawoman——ancienthistorynow——whichhadlefthimquaintlysensitive,foranoldman,tosignsofsufferinginothers。
　　Miltounwouldnothaveobeyedthatinvitationfromanyoneelse,buttherewassomethingaboutLordDenniswhichpeopledidnotresist;
　　hispowerlayinadryironicsuavitywhichcouldnotbutpersuadepeoplethatimpolitenesswasaltogethertoonewandrawathingtobeindulgedin。
　　Thetwosatsidebysideontherootsoftrees。Atfirsttheytalkedalittleofbirds,andthenweredumb,sodumbthattheinvisiblecreaturesofthewoodsconsultedtogetheraudibly。LordDennisbrokethatsilence。
　　"Thisplace,"hesaid,"alwaysremindsmeofMarkTwain'swritings——
　　can'ttellwhy,unlessit'stheever—greenness。Iliketheevergreenphilosophers,TwainandMeredith。There'snosalvationexceptthroughcourage,thoughInevercouldstomachthe'strongman'——
　　captainofhissoul,HenleyandNietzscheandthatsort——goesagainstthegrainwithme。Whatdoyousay,Eustace？"
　　"Theymeantwell,"answeredMiltoun,"buttheyprotestedtoomuch。"
　　LordDennismovedhisheadinassent。
　　"Tobecaptainofyoursoul！"continuedMiltouninabittervoice;
　　"it'saprettyphrase！"
　　"Prettyenough,"murmuredLordDennis。
　　Miltounlookedathim。
　　"Andsuitabletoyou,"hesaid。
　　"No,mydear,"LordDennisanswereddryly,"alongwayoffthat,thankGod！"
　　Hiseyeswerefixedintentlyontheplacewherealargetrouthadriseninthestillesttoffee—colouredpool。Heknewthatfellow,ahalf—pounderatleast,andhisthoughtsbeganflightingroundthetopofhishead,hoveringoverthevariousmeritsoftheflies。Hisfingersitchedtoo,buthemadenomovement,andtheash—treeunderwhichhesatletitsleavestremble,asthoughinsympathy。
　　"Seethathawk？"saidMiltoun。
　　Ataheightmorethanlevelwiththetopsofthehillsabuzzardhawkwasstationaryinthebluedirectlyoverthem。Inspiredbycuriosityattheirstillness,hewaslookingdowntoseewhethertheywereedible;theupcurvedendsofhisgreatwingsflirtedjustoncetoshowthathewaspartofthelivinggloryoftheair——asymboloffreedomtomenandfishes。
　　LordDennislookedathisgreat—nephew。Theboy——forwhatelsewasthirtytoseventy—six？——wastakingithard,whateveritmightbe,takingitveryhard！Hewasthatsort——rantillhedropped。Theworstkindtohelp——thesortthatmadefortrouble——thatletthingsgnawatthem！Andthereflashedbeforetheoldman'smindtheimageofPrometheusdevouredbytheeagle。Itwashisfavouritetragedy,whichhestillreadperiodically,intheGreek,helpinghimselfnowandthenoutofhisoldlexicontothemeaningofsomewordwhichhadflowntoErebus。Yes,Eustacewasafellowfortheheightsanddepths！
　　Hesaidquietly:
　　"Youdon'tcaretotalkaboutit,Isuppose？"
　　Miltounshookhishead,andagaintherewassilence。
　　Thebuzzardhawkhavingseenthemmove,quiveredhiswingslikeamoth's,anddesertedthatplaneofair。Arobinfromthedappledwarmthofamossystone,wasregardingtheminstead。Therewasanothersplashinthepool。
　　LordDennissaidgently:
　　"Thatfellow'srisentwice;Ibelievehe'dtakea'Wistman'streasure。'"Extractingfromhishatitslatestfly,andbindingiton,hebegansoftlytoswishhisline。
　　"Ishallhavehimyet！"hemuttered。ButMiltounhadstolenaway……
　　ThefurtherpieceofinformationaboutMrs。Noel,alreadyknownbyBarbara,anddiffusedbythe'BucklandburyNews',hadnotbecomecommonknowledgeattheCourttillafterLordDennishadstartedouttofish。IncombinationwiththereportthatMiltounhadarrivedandgoneoutwithoutbreakfast,ithadbeenreceivedwithmingledfeelings。Bertie,Harbinger,andShropton,inashortconclave,afteragreeingthatfromthepointofviewoftheelectionitwasperhapsbetterthanifshehadbeenadivorcee,werestillinclinedtothebeliefthatnotimewastobelost——indoingwhat,however,theywereunabletodetermine。ApartfromtheimpossibilityofknowinghowafellowlikeMiltounwouldtakethematter,theywerefacedwiththedevilishsubtletyofallsituationstowhichtheproverb'Leastsaid,soonestmended'applies。Theywereinthepresenceofthatawe—inspiringthing,thepowerofscandal。Simplestatementsofsimplefacts,withoutmoraldrawn（towhichnolegalexceptioncouldbetaken）laidbeforethepublicaspiecesofinterestinginformation,orattheworstexposedinperfectgoodfaith,lestthepublicshouldblindlyelectastheirrepresentativeonewhoseprivatelifemightnotstandtheinspectionofdaylight——
　　whatcouldbemorejustifiable！AndyetMiltoun'ssupportersknewthatthissimplestatementofwherehespenthiseveningshadapoisonouspotency,throughitspowerofstimulatingthatsideofthehumanimaginationthemosteasilyexcited。Theyrecognizedonlytoowell,howstrongwasacertainprimitivedesire,especiallyinruraldistricts,byyieldingtowhichtheworldwasmadetogo,andhowremarkablyhardit,wasnottoyieldtoit,andhowinterestingandexcitingtoseeorhearofothersyieldingtoit,andhow（thoughhere,ofcourse,menmightdiffersecretly）reprehensibleofthemtodoso！Theyrecognized,toowell,howacertainkindofconsciencewouldappreciatethisrumour;andhowthepuritanswouldlicktheirlengthenedchops。Theyknew,too,howirresistibletopeopleofanyimaginationatall,wasthemerecombinationofamemberofaclass,traditionallysupposedtobeinclinedtohavingwhatitwanted,withaladywholivedalone！AsHarbingersaid:Itwasreallydevilishawkward！For,totakeanynoticeofitwouldbetomakemorepeoplethaneverbelieveittrue。Andyet,thatitwasworkingmischief,theyfeltbythesecretvoiceintheirownsouls,tellingthemthattheywouldhavebelieveditiftheyhadnotknownbetter。Theyhungabout,waitingforMiltountocomein。
　　ThenewswasreceivedbyLadyValleyswithasighofintenserelief,andtheremarkthatitwasprobablyanotherlie。WhenBarbaraconfirmedit,sheonlysaid:"PoorEustace！"andatoncewroteofftoherhusbandtosaythat'Anonyma'wasstillmarried,sothattheworstfortunatelycouldnothappen。
　　Miltouncameintolunch,butfromhisfaceandmannernothingcouldbeguessed。Hewasathoughtmoretalkativethanusual,andspokeofBrabrook'sspeech——someofwhichhehadheard。HelookedatCourtiermeaningly,andafterlunchsaidtohim:
　　"Willyoucomeroundtomyden？"
　　Inthatroom,theoldwithdrawing—roomoftheElizabethanwing——whereoncehadbeentheembroideries,tapestries,andmissalsofberuffleddameswerenowbooks,pamphlets,oak—panels,pipes,fencinggear,andalongonewallacollectionofRedIndianweaponsandornamentsbroughtbackbyMiltounfromtheUnitedStates。Highonthewallabovethesereignedthebronzedeath—maskofafamousApacheChief,castfromaplastertakenofthefacebyaprofessorofYaleCollege,whohaddeclaredittobeaperfectspecimenofthevanishingrace。
　　Thatvisage,whichhadacertainweirdresemblancetoDante's,presidedovertheroomwithcruel,tragicstoicism。Noonecouldlookonitwithoutfeelingthat,there,thehumanwillhadbeenpushedtoitsfarthestlimitsofendurance。