COULD　not　talkeverything　that　came　into　his　mind　to　say　seemed
  false。　　Ah！　it　was　a　sad　eveningwith　its　glimmering　vision　into
  another's　sore　heart；　its　confused　gnawing　sense　of　things　broken；
  faith　betrayed；　and　yet　always　the　perplexed　wonder〃How　could　I
  have　helped　it？〃　　And　always　Sylvia's　wistful　face　that　he　tried
  not　to　look　at。
  He　stole　out；　leaving　Gordy　and　his　tutor　still　over　their　wine；
  and　roamed　about　the　garden　a　long　time；　listening　sadly　to　the
  owls。　　It　was　a　blessing　to　get　upstairs；　though　of　course　he　would
  not　sleep。
  But　he　did　sleep；　all　through　a　night　of　many　dreams；　in　the　last
  of　which　he　was　lying　on　a　mountain　side；　Anna　looking　down　into
  his　eyes；　and　bending　her　face　to　his。　　He　woke　just　as　her　lips
  touched　him。　　Still　under　the　spell　of　that　troubling　dream；　he
  became　conscious　of　the　sound　of　wheels　and　horses'　hoofs　on　the
  gravel；　and　sprang　out　of　bed。　　There　was　the　waggonette　moving
  from　the　door；　old　Godden　driving；　luggage　piled　up　beside　him；　and
  the　Stormers　sitting　opposite　each　other　in　the　carriage。　　Going
  away　like　thathaving　never　even　said　good…bye！　　For　a　moment　he
  felt　as　people　must　when　they　have　unwittingly　killed　someone
  utterly　stunned　and　miserable。　　Then　he　dashed　into　his　clothes。
  He　would　not　let　her　go　thus！　　He　wouldhe　mustsee　her　again！
  What　had　he　done　that　she　should　go　like　this？　　He　rushed
  downstairs。　　The　hall　was　empty；　nineteen　minutes　to　eight！　　The
  train　left　at　eight　o'clock。　　Had　he　time　to　saddle　Bolero？　　He
  rushed　round　to　the　stables；　but　the　cob　was　out；　being　shoed。　　He
  wouldhe　must　get　there　in　time。　　It　would　show　her　anyway　that　he
  was　not　quite　a　cad。　　He　walked　till　the　drive　curved；　then　began
  running　hard。　　A　quarter　of　a　mile；　and　already　he　felt　better；　not
  so　miserable　and　guilty；　it　was　something　to　feel　you　had　a　tough
  job　in　hand；　all　your　work　cut　outsomething　to　have　to　think　of
  economizing　strength；　picking　out　the　best　going；　keeping　out　of
  the　sun；　saving　your　wind　uphill；　flying　down　any　slope。　　It　was
  cool　still；　and　the　dew　had　laid　the　dust；　there　was　no　traffic　and
  scarcely　anyone　to　look　back　and　gape　as　he　ran　by。　　What　he　would
  do；　if　he　got　there　in　timehow　explain　this　mad　three…mile　run
  he　did　not　think。　　He　passed　a　farm　that　he　knew　was　just　half…way。
  He　had　left　his　watch。　　Indeed；　he　had　put　on　only　his　trousers；
  shirt；　and　Norfolk　jacket；　no　tie；　no　hat；　not　even　socks　under　his
  tennis　shoes；　and　he　was　as　hot　as　fire；　with　his　hair　flying　back
  a　strange　young　creature　indeed　for　anyone　to　meet。　　But　he　had
  lost　now　all　feeling；　save　the　will　to　get　there。　　A　flock　of　sheep
  came　out　of　a　field　into　the　lane。　　He　pushed　through　them　somehow；
  but　they　lost　him　several　seconds。　　More　than　a　mile　still；　and　he
  was　blown；　and　his　legs　beginning　to　give！　　Downhill　indeed　they
  went　of　their　own　accord；　but　there　was　the　long　run…in；　quite
  level；　and　he　could　hear　the　train；　now　slowly　puffing　its　way
  along　the　valley。　　Then；　in　spite　of　exhaustion；　his　spirit　rose。
  He　would　not　go　in　looking　like　a　scarecrow；　utterly　done；　and　make
  a　scene。　　He　must　pull　himself　together　at　the　end；　and　stroll　in
  as　if　he　had　come　for　fun。　　But　howseeing　that　at　any　moment　he
  felt　he　might　fall　flat　in　the　dust；　and　stay　there　for　ever！　　And；
  as　he　ran；　he　made　little　desperate　efforts　to　mop　his　face；　and
  brush　his　clothes。　　There　were　the　gates；　at　lasttwo　hundred
  yards　away。　　The　train；　he　could　hear　no　longer。　　It　must　be
  standing　in　the　station。　　And　a　sob　came　from　his　overdriven　lungs。
  He　heard　the　guard's　whistle　as　he　reached　the　gates。　　Instead　of
  making　for　the　booking…office；　he　ran　along　the　paling；　where　an
  entrance　to　the　goods'…shed　was　open；　and　dashing　through　he　fell
  back　against　the　honeysuckle。　　The　engine　was　just　abreast　of　him；
  he　snatched　at　his　sleeve　and　passed　it　over　his　face；　to　wipe　the
  sweat　away。　　Everything　was　blurred。　　He　must　seesurely　he　had
  not　come　in　time　just　not　to　see！　　He　pushed　his　hands　over　his
  forehead　and　hair；　and　spied　up　dizzily　at　the　slowly　passing
  train。　　She　was　there；　at　a　window！　　Standing；　looking　out！　　He
  dared　not　step　forward；　for　fear　of　falling；　but　he　put　out　his
  hand　　She　saw　him。　　Yes；　she　saw　him！　　Wasn't　she　going　to　make　a
  sign？　　Not　one？　　And　suddenly　he　saw　her　tear　at　her　dress；　pluck
  something　out；　and　throw　it。　　It　fell　close　to　his　feet。　　He　did
  not　pick　it　uphe　wanted　to　see　her　face　till　she　was　gone。　　It
  looked　wonderfulvery　proud；　and　pale。　　She　put　her　hand　up　to　her
  lips。　　Then　everything　went　blurred　again　and　when　he　could　see
  once　more；　the　train　had　vanished。　　But　at　his　feet　was　what　she
  had　thrown。　　He　picked　it　up！　　All　dry　and　dark；　it　was　the　flower
  she　had　given　him　in　the　Tyrol；　and　stolen　back　from　his
  buttonhole。
  Creeping　out；　past　the　goods'…shed；　he　made　his　way　to　a　field；　and
  lay　down　with　his　face　pressed　to　that　withered　thing　which　still
  had　its　scent。　。　。　。
  The　asphyxiated　speculation　in　his　guardian's　eyes　had　not　been
  without　significance。　　Mark　did　not　go　back　to　Oxford。　　He　went
  instead　to　Rometo　live　in　his　sister's　house；　and　attend　a　school
  of　sculpture。　　That　was　the　beginning　of　a　time　when　nothing
  counted　except　his　work。
  To　Anna　he　wrote　twice；　but　received　no　answer。　　From　his　tutor　he
  had　one　little　note：
  〃MY　DEAR　LENNAN；
  〃So！　　You　abandon　us　for　Art？　　Ah！　wellit　was　your　moon；　if　I
  rememberone　of　them。　　A　worthy　moona　little　dusty　in　these
  daysa　little　in　her　declinebut　to　you　no　doubt　a　virgin
  goddess；　whose　hem；　etc。
  〃We　shall　retain　the　friendliest　memories　of　you　in　spite　of　your
  defection。
  〃Once　your　tutor　and　still　your　friend；
  〃HAROLD　STORMER。〃
  After　that　vacation　it　was　longvery　long　before　he　saw　Sylvia
  again。
  PART　II
  SUMMER
  I
  Gleam　of　a　thousand　lights；　clack　and　mutter　of　innumerable　voices；
  laughter；　footsteps；　hiss　and　rumble　of　passing　trains　taking
  gamblers　back　to　Nice　or　Mentone；　fevered　wailing　from　the　violins
  of　four　fiddlers　with　dark…white　skins　outside　the　cafe；　and　above；
  around；　beyond；　the　dark　sky；　and　the　dark　mountains；　and　the　dark
  sea；　like　some　great　dark　flower　to　whose　heart　is　clinging　a
  jewelled　beetle。　　So　was　Monte　Carlo　on　that　May　night　of　1887。
  But　Mark　Lennan；　at　one　of　the　little　marble…topped　tables；　was　in
  too　great　maze　and　exaltation　of　spirit　and　of　senses　to　be
  conscious　of　its　glare　and　babel；　even　of　its　beauty。　　He　sat　so
  very　still　that　his　neighbours；　with　the　instinctive　aversion　of
  the　human　creature　to　what　is　too　remote　from　its　own　mood；　after
  one　good　stare；　turned　their　eyes　away；　as　from　something
  ludicrous；　almost　offensive。
  He　was　lost；　indeed；　in　memory　of　the　minutes　just　gone　by。　　For　it
  had　come　at　last；　after　all　these　weeks　of　ferment；　after　all　this
  strange　time　of　perturbation。
  Very　stealthily　it　had　been　creeping　on　him；　ever　since　that　chance
  introduction　nearly　a　year　ago；　soon　after　he　settled　down　in
  London；　following　those　six　years　of　Rome　and　Paris。　　First　the
  merest　friendliness；　because　she　was　so　nice　about　his　work；　then
  respectful　admiration；　because　she　was　so　beautiful；　then　pity；
  because　she　was　so　unhappy　in　her　marriage。　　If　she　had　been　happy；
  he　would　have　fled。　　The　knowledge　that　she　had　been　unhappy　long
  before　he　knew　her　had　kept　his　conscience　still。　　And　at　last　one
  afternoon　she　said：　〃Ah！　if　you　come　out　there　too！〃　　Marvelously
  subtle；　the　way　that　one　little　outslipped　saying　had　worked　in
  him；　as　though　it　had　a　life　of　its　ownlike　a　strange　bird　that
  had　flown　into　the　garden　of　his　heart；　and　established　itself　with
  its　new　song　and　flutterings；　its　new　flight；　its　wistful　and　ever
  clearer　call。　　That　and　one　moment；　a　few　days　later　in　her　London
  drawing…room；　when　he　had　told　her　that　he　WAS　coming；　and　she　did
  not；　could　not；　he　felt；　look　at　him。　　Queer；　that　nothing
  momentous　said；　doneor　even　left　undonehad　altered　all　the
  future！
  And　so　she　had　gone　with　her　uncle　and　aunt；　under　whose　wing　one
  might　be　sure　she　would　meet　with　no　wayward　or　exotic　happenings。
  And　he　had　received　from　her　this　little　letter：
  〃HOTEL　COEUR　D'OR；
  〃MONTE　CARLO。
  〃MY　DEAR　MARK；
  〃We've　arrived。　　It　is　so　good　to　be　in　the　sun。　　The　flowers　are
  wonderful。　　I　am　keeping　Gorbio　and　Roquebrune　till　you　come。
  〃Your　friend；
  〃OLIVE　CRAMIER。〃
  That　letter　was　the　single　clear　memory　he　had　of　the　time　between
  her　going　and　his　following。　　He　received　it　one　afternoon；　sitting
  on　an　old　low　garden　wall　with　the　spring　sun　shining　on　him
  through　apple…trees　in　blossom；　and　a　feeling　as　if　all　the　desire
  of　the　world　lay　before　him；　and　he　had　but　to　stretch　out　his　arms
  to　take　it。
  Then　confused　unrest；　all　things　vague；　till　at　the　end　of　his
  journey　he　stepped　out　of　the　train　at　Beaulieu　with　a　furiously
  beating　heart。　　But　why？　　Surely　he　had　not　expected　her　to　come
  out　from　Monte　Carlo　to　meet　him！
  A　week　had　gone　by　since　then　in　one　long　effort　to　be　with　her　and
  appear　to　others　as　though　he　did　not　greatly　wish　to　be；　two
  concerts；　two　walks　with　her　alone；　when　all　that　he　had　said
  seemed　as　nothing　said；　and　all　her　sa