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　down？　　Could　she　forgive　herself　for　that？
  Could　she　bear　it　if　she　were　to　make　him　like　so　many　other　boys；
  like　that　young　violinist；　just　a　cynical　youth；　looking　on　women
  as　what　they　called　'fair　game'？　　But　COULD　she　make　him　into　such
  would　he　ever　grow　like　that？　　Oh！　　surely　not；　or　she　would　not
  have　loved　him　from　the　moment　she　first　set　eyes　on　him　and　spoke
  of　him　as　'an　angel。'
  After　that　kissthat　crime；　if　it　were　onein　the　dark　she　had
  not　known　what　he　had　done；　where　goneperhaps　wandering；　perhaps
  straight　up　to　his　room。　　Why　had　she　refrained；　left　him　there；
  vanished　out　of　his　arms？　　This　she　herself　hardly　understood。　　Not
  shame；　not　fear；　reverence　perhapsfor　what？　　For　lovefor　the
  illusion；　the　mystery；　all　that　made　love　beautiful；　for　youth；　and
  the　poetry　of　it；　just　for　the　sake　of　the　black　still　night
  itself；　and　the　scent　of　that　flowerdark　flower　of　passion　that
  had　won　him　to　her；　and　that　she　had　stolen　back；　and　now　wore　all
  night　long　close　to　her　neck；　and　in　the　morning　placed　withered
  within　her　dress。　　She　had　been　starved　so　long；　and　so　long　waited
  for　that　momentit　was　little　wonder　if　she　did　not　clearly　know
  why　she　had　done　just　this；　and　not　that！
  And　now　how　should　she　meet　him；　how　first　look　into　his　eyes？
  Would　they　have　changed？　　Would　they　no　longer　have　the　straight
  look　she　so　loved？　　It　would　be　for　her　to　lead；　to　make　the
  future。　　And　she　kept　saying　to　herself：　I　am　not　going　to　be
  afraid。　　It　is　done。　　I　will　take　what　life　offers！　　Of　her　husband
  she　did　not　think　at　all。
  But　the　first　moment　she　saw　the　boy；　she　knew　that　something　from
  outside；　and　untoward；　had　happened　since　that　kiss。　　He　came　up　to
  her；　indeed；　but　he　said　nothing；　stood　trembling　all　over　and
  handed　her　a　telegram　that　contained　these　words：　〃Come　back　at
  once　Wedding　immediate　Expect　you　day　after　to…morrow。　　Cicely。〃
  The　words　grew　indistinct　even　as　she　read　them；　and　the　boy's　face
  all　blurred。　　Then；　making　an　effort；　she　said　quietly：
  〃Of　course；　you　must