sleep；　with　her　ice…green　eyes　and　bright　hair；　and　in　sudden
  strange　antipathy　to　her；　that　strong；　vivid　figure；　he　stood　dumb。
  And　this　first　lonely　moment；　which　he　had　so　many　times　in　fancy
  spent　locked　in　her　arms；　passed　without　even　a　kiss；　for　quickly
  one　by　one　the　others　came。　　But　of　Sylvia　only　news　through　Mrs。
  Doone　that　she　had　a　headache；　and　was　staying　in　bed。　　Her　present
  was　on　the　sideboard；　a　book　called　'Sartor　Resartus。'　　〃Markfrom
  Sylvia；　August　1st；　1880；〃　together　with　Gordy's　cheque；　Mrs。
  Doone's　pearl　pin；　old　Tingle's　'Stones　of　Venice；'　and　one　other
  little　parcel　wrapped　in　tissue…paperfour　ties　of　varying　shades
  of　green；　red；　and　blue；　hand…knitted　in　silka　present　of　how
  many　hours　made　short　by　the　thought　that　he　would　wear　the　produce
  of　that　clicking。　　He　did　not　fail　in　outer　gratitude；　but　did　he
  realize　what　had　been　knitted　into　those　ties？　　Not　then。
  Birthdays；　like　Christmas　days；　were　made　for　disenchantment。
  Always　the　false　gaiety　of　gaiety　arrangedalways　that　pistol　to
  the　head：　'Confound　you！　enjoy　yourself！'　　How　could　he　enjoy
  himself　with　the　thought　of　Sylvia　in　her　room；　made　ill　by　his
  brutality！　　The　vision　of　her　throat　working；　swallowing　her　grief；
  haunted　him　like　a　little　white；　soft　spectre　all　through　the　long
  drive　out　on　to　the　moor；　and　the　picnic　in　the　heather；　and　the
  long　drive　homehaunted　him　so　that　when　Anna　touched　or　looked　at
  him　he　had　no　spirit　to　answer；　no　spirit　even　to　try　and　be　with
  her　alone；　but　almost　a　dread　of　it　instead。
  And　when　at　last　they　were　at　home　again；　and　she　whispered：
  〃What　is　it？　　What　have　I　done？〃　he　could　only　mutter：
  〃Nothing！　　Oh；　nothing！　　It's　only　that　I've　been　a　brute！〃
  At　that　enigmatic　answer　she　might　well　search　his　face。
  〃Is　it　my　husband？〃
  He　could　answer　that；　at　all　events。
  〃Oh；　no！〃
  〃What　is　it；　then？　　Tell　me。〃
  They　were　standing　in　the　inner　porch；　pretending　to　examine　the
  ancestral　chartdotted　and　starred　with　dolphins　and　little　full…
  rigged　galleons　sailing　into　harbourswhich　always　hung　just
  there。
  〃Tell　me；　Mark；　I　don't　like　to　suffer！〃
  What　could　he　say；　since　he　did　not　know　himself？　　He　stammered；
  tried　to　speak；　could　not　get　anything　out。
  〃Is　it　that　girl？〃
  Startled；　he　looked　away；　and　said：
  〃Of　course　not。〃
  She　shivered；　and　went　into　the　house。　　But　he　stayed；　staring　at
  the　chart　with　a　dreadful　stirred…up　feelingof　shame　and
  irritation；　pity；　impatience；　fear；　all　mixed。　　What　had　he　done；
  said；　lost？　　It　was　that　horrid　feeling　of　when　one　has　not　been
  kind　and　not　quite　true；　yet　might　have　been　kinder　if　one　had　been
  still　less　true。　　Ah！　but　it　was　all　so　mixed　up。　　It　felt　all
  bleak；　too；　and　wintry　in　him；　as　if　he　had　suddenly　lost
  everybody's　love。　　Then　he　was　conscious　of　his　tutor。
  〃Ah！　friend　Lennanlooking　deeply　into　the　past　from　the　less
  romantic　present？　　Nice　things；　those　old　charts。　　The　dolphins　are
  extremely　jolly。〃
  It　was　difficult　to　remember　not　to　be　ill…mannered　then。　　Why　did
  Stormer　jeer　like　that？　　He　just　managed　to　answer：
  〃Yes；　sir；　I　wish　we　had　some　now。〃
  〃There　are　so　many　moons　we　wish　for；　Lennan；　and　they　none　of　them
  come　tumbling　down。〃
  The　voice　was　almost　earnest；　and　the　boy's　resentment　fled。　　He
  felt　sorry；　but　why　he　did　not　know。
  〃In　the　meantime；〃　he　heard　his　tutor　say；　〃let　us　dress　for
  dinner。〃
  When　he　came　down　to　the　drawing…room；　Anna　in　her　moonlight…
  coloured　frock　was　sitting　on　the　sofa　talking　toSylvia。　　He　kept
  away　from　them；　they　could　neither　of　them　want　him。　　But　it　did
  seem　odd　to　him；　who　knew　not　too　much　concerning　women；　that　she
  could　be　talking　so　gaily；　when　only　half　an　hour　ago　she　had　said：
  〃Is　it　that　girl？〃
  He　sat　next　her　at　dinner。　　Again　it　was　puzzling　that　she　should
  be　laughing　so　serenely　at　Gordy's　stories。　　Did　the　whispering　in
  the　porch；　then；　mean　nothing？　　And　Sylvia　would　not　look　at　him；
  he　felt　sure　that　she　turned　her　eyes　away　simply　because　she　knew
  he　was　going　to　look　in　her　direction。　　And　this　roused　in　him　a
  sore　feelingeverything　that　night　seemed　to　rouse　that　feeling
  of　injustice；　he　was　cast　out；　and　he　could　not　tell　why。　　He　had
  not　meant　to　hurt　either　of　them！　　Why　should　they　both　want　to
  hurt　him　so？　　And　presently　there　came　to　him　a　feeling　that　he　did
  not　care：　Let　them　treat　him　as　they　liked！　　There　were　other
  things　besides　love！　　If　they　did　not　want　himhe　did　not　want
  them！　　And　he　hugged　this　reckless；　unhappy；　don't…care　feeling　to
  him　with　all　the　abandonment　of　youth。
  But　even　birthdays　come　to　an　end。　　And　moods　and　feelings　that
  seem　so　desperately　real　die　in　the　unreality　of　sleep。
  XVI
  If　to　the　boy　that　birthday　was　all　bewildered　disillusionment；　to
  Anna　it　was　verily　slow　torture；　SHE　found　no　relief　in　thinking
  that　there　were　things　in　life　other　than　love。　　But　next　morning
  brought　readjustment；　a　sense　of　yesterday's　extravagance；　a
  renewal　of　hope。　　Impossible　surely　that　in　one　short　fortnight　she
  had　lost　what　she　had　made　so　sure　of！　　She　had　only　to　be
  resolute。　　Only　to　grasp　firmly　what　was　hers。　　After　all　these
  empty　years　was　she　not　to　have　her　hour？　　To　sit　still　meekly　and
  see　it　snatched　from　her　by　a　slip　of　a　soft　girl？　　A　thousand
  times；　no！　　And　she　watched　her　chance。　　She　saw　him　about　noon
  sally　forth　towards　the　river；　with　his　rod。　　She　had　to　wait　a
  little；　for　Gordy　and　his　bailiff　were　down　there　by　the　tennis
  lawn；　but　they　soon　moved　on。　　She　ran　out　then　to　the　park　gate。
  Once　through　that　she　felt　safe；　her　husband；　she　knew；　was　working
  in　his　room；　the　girl　somewhere　invisible；　the　old　governess　still
  at　her　housekeeping；　Mrs。　Doone　writing　letters。　　She　felt　full　of
  hope　and　courage。　　This　old　wild　tangle　of　a　park；　that　she　had　not
  yet　seen；　was　beautifula　true　trysting…place　for　fauns　and
  nymphs；　with　its　mossy　trees　and　boulders　and　the　high　bracken。
  She　kept　along　under　the　wall　in　the　direction　of　the　river；　but
  came　to　no　gate；　and　began　to　be　afraid　that　she　was　going　wrong。
  She　could　hear　the　river　on　the　other　side；　and　looked　for　some
  place　where　she　could　climb　and　see　exactly　where　she　was。　　An　old
  ash…tree　tempted　her。　　Scrambling　up　into　its　fork；　she　could　just
  see　over。　　There　was　the　little　river　within　twenty　yards；　its
  clear　dark　water　running　between　thick　foliage。　　On　its　bank　lay　a
  huge　stone　balanced　on　another　stone　still　more　huge。　　And　with　his
  back　to　this　stone　stood　the　boy；　his　rod　leaning　beside　him。　　And
  there；　on　the　ground；　her　arms　resting　on　her　knees；　her　chin　on
  her　hands；　that　girl　sat　looking　up。　　How　eager　his　eyes　nowhow
  different　from　the　brooding　eyes　of　yesterday！
  〃So；　you　see；　that　was　all。　　You　might　forgive　me；　Sylvia！〃
  And　to　Anna　it　seemed　verily　as　if　those　two　young　faces　formed
  suddenly　but　onethe　face　of　youth。
  If　she　had　stayed　there　looking　for　all　time；　she　could　not　have
  had　graven　on　her　heart　a　vision　more　indelible。　　Vision　of　Spring；
  of　all　that　was　gone　from　her　for　ever！　　She　shrank　back　out　of　the
  fork　of　the　old　ash…tree；　and；　like　a　stricken　beast；　went
  hurrying；　stumbling　away；　amongst　the　stones　and　bracken。　　She　ran
  thus　perhaps　a　quarter　of　a　mile；　then　threw　up　her　arms；　fell　down
  amongst　the　fern；　and　lay　there　on　her　face。　　At　first　her　heart
  hurt　her　so　that　she　felt　nothing　but　that　physical　pain。　　If　she
  could　have　died！　　But　she　knew　it　was　nothing　but　breathlessness。
  It　left　her；　and　that　which　took　its　place　she　tried　to　drive　away
  by　pressing　her　breast　against　the　ground；　by　clutching　the　stalks
  of　the　brackenan　ache；　an　emptiness　too　dreadful！　　Youth　to
  youth！　　He　was　gone　from　herand　she　was　alone　again！　　She　did　not
  cry。　　What　good　in　crying？　　But　gusts　of　shame　kept　sweeping
  through　her；　shame　and　rage。　　So　this　was　all　she　was　worth！　　The
  sun　struck　hot　on　her　back　in　that　lair　of　tangled　fern；　where　she
  had　fallen；　she　felt　faint　and　sick。　　She　had　not　known　till　now
  quite　what　this　passion　for　the　boy　had　meant　to　her；　how　much　of
  her　very　belief　in　herself　was　bound　up　with　it；　how　much　clinging
  to　her　own　youth。　　What　bitterness！　　One　soft　slip　of　a　white　girl
  one　YOUNG　thingand　she　had　become　as　nothing！　　But　was　that
  true？　　Could　she　not　even　now　wrench　him　back　to　her　with　the
  passion　that　this　child　knew　nothing　of！　　Surely！　　Oh；　surely！　　Let
  him　but　once　taste　the　rapture　she　could　give　him！　　And　at　that
  thought　she　ceased　clutching　at　the　bracken　stalks；　lying　as　still
  as　the　very　stones　around　her。　　Could　she　not？　　Might　she　not；　even
  now？　　And　all　feeling；　except　just　a　sort　of　quivering；　deserted
  heras　if　she　had　fallen　into　a　trance。　　Why　spare　this　girl？　　Why
  falter？　　She　was　first！　　He　had　been　hers　out　there。　　And　she　still
  had　the　power　to　draw　him。　　At　dinner　the　first　evening　she　had
  dragged　his　gaze　to　her；　away　from　that　girlaway　from　youth；　as　a
  magnet　draws　steel。　　She　could　still　bind　him　with　chains　that　for
  a　little　while　at　all　events　he　would　not　want　to　break！　　Bind　him？
  Hateful　word！　　Take　him；　hankering　after　what　she　could　not　give
  himyouth；　white　innocence；　Spring？　　It　would　be　infamous；
  infamous！　　S