He　reached　the　village　after　dark；　and　spent　the　night　at　the　inn；
  got　up　early　next　morning；　took　a　boat；　and　pulled　down…stream。
  The　bluffs　of　the　opposite　bank　were　wooded　with　high　trees。　　The
  sun　shone　softly　on　their　leaves；　and　the　bright　stream　was　ruffled
  by　a　breeze　that　bent　all　the　reeds　and　slowly　swayed　the　water…
  flowers。　　One　thin　white　line　of　wind　streaked　the　blue　sky。　　He
  shipped　his　sculls　and　drifted；　listening　to　the　wood…pigeons；
  watching　the　swallows　chasing。　　If　only　she　were　here！　　To　spend
  one　long　day　thus；　drifting　with　the　stream！　　To　have　but　one　such
  rest　from　longing！　　Her　cottage；　he　knew；　lay　on　the　same　side　as
  the　village；　and　just　beyond　an　island。　　She　had　told　him　of　a
  hedge　of　yew…trees；　and　a　white　dovecote　almost　at　the　water's
  edge。　　He　came　to　the　island；　and　let　his　boat　slide　into　the
  backwater。　　It　was　all　overgrown　with　willow…trees　and　alders；　dark
  even　in　this　early　morning　radiance；　and　marvellously　still。　　There
  was　no　room　to　row；　he　took　the　boathook　and　tried　to　punt；　but　the
  green　water　was　too　deep　and　entangled　with　great　roots；　so　that　he
  had　to　make　his　way　by　clawing　with　the　hook　at　branches。　　Birds
  seemed　to　shun　this　gloom；　but　a　single　magpie　crossed　the　one
  little　clear　patch　of　sky；　and　flew　low　behind　the　willows。　　The
  air　here　had　a　sweetish；　earthy　odour　of　too　rank　foliage；　all
  brightness　seemed　entombed。　　He　was　glad　to　pass　out　again　under　a
  huge　poplar…tree　into　the　fluttering　gold　and　silver　of　the
  morning。　　And　almost　at　once　he　saw　the　yew…hedge　at　the　border　of
  some　bright　green　turf；　and　a　pigeon…house；　high　on　its　pole；
  painted　cream…white。　　About　it　a　number　of　ring…doves　and　snow…
  white　pigeons　were　perched　or　flying；　and　beyond　the　lawn　he　could
  see　the　dark　veranda　of　a　low　house；　covered　by　wistaria　just　going
  out　of　flower。　　A　drift　of　scent　from　late　lilacs；　and　new…mown
  grass；　was　borne　out　to　him；　together　with　the　sound　of　a　mowing…
  machine；　and　the　humming　of　many　bees。　　It　was　beautiful　here；　and
  seemed；　for　all　its　restfulness；　to　have　something　of　that　flying
  quality　he　so　loved　about　her　face；　about　the　sweep　of　her　hair；
  the　quick；　soft　turn　of　her　eyesor　was　that　but　the　darkness　of
  the　yew…trees；　the　whiteness　of　the　dovecote；　and　the　doves
  themselves；　flying？
  He　lay　there　a　long　time　quietly　beneath　the　bank；　careful　not　to
  attract　the　attention　of　the　old　gardener；　who　was　methodically
  pushing　his　machine　across　and　across　the　lawn。　　How　he　wanted　her
  with　him　then！　　Wonderful　that　there　could　be　in　life　such　beauty
  and　wild　softness　as　made　the　heart　ache　with　the　delight　of　it；
  and　in　that　same　life　grey　rules　and　rigid　barrierscoffins　of
  happiness！　　That　doors　should　be　closed　on　love　and　joy！　　There　was
  not　so　much　of　it　in　the　world！　　She；　who　was　the　very　spirit　of
  this　flying；　nymph…like　summer；　was　untimely　wintered…up　in　bleak
  sorrow。　　There　was　a　hateful　unwisdom　in　that　thought；　it　seemed　so
  grim　and　violent；　so　corpse…like；　gruesome；　narrow　and　extravagant！
  What　possible　end　could　it　serve　that　she　should　be　unhappy！　　Even
  if　he　had　not　loved　her；　he　would　have　hated　her　fate　just　as　much
  all　such　stories　of　imprisoned　lives　had　roused　his　anger　even　as
  a　boy。
  Soft　white　cloudsthose　bright　angels　of　the　river；　never　very
  long　awayhad　begun　now　to　spread　their　wings　over　the　woods；　and
  the　wind　had　dropped　so　that　the　slumbrous　warmth　and　murmuring　of
  summer　gathered　full　over　the　water。　　The　old　gardener　had　finished
  his　job　of　mowing；　and　came　with　a　little　basket　of　grain　to　feed
  the　doves。　　Lennan　watched　them　going　to　him；　the　ring…doves；　very
  dainty；　and　capricious；　keeping　to　themselves。　　In　place　of　that
  old　fellow；　he　was　really　seeing　HER；　feeding　from　her　hands　those
  birds　of　Cypris。　　What　a　group　he　could　have　made　of　her　with　them
  perching　and　flying　round　her！　　If　she　were　his；　what　could　he　not
  achieveto　make　her　immortallike　the　old　Greeks　and　Italians；
  who；　in　their　work；　had　rescued　their　mistresses　from　Time！　。　。　。
  He　was　back　in　his　rooms　in　London　two　hours　before　he　dared　begin
  expecting　her。　　Living　alone　there　but　for　a　caretaker　who　came
  every　morning　for　an　hour　or　two；　made　dust；　and　departed；　he　had
  no　need　for　caution。　　And　when　he　had　procured　flowers；　and　the
  fruits　and　cakes　which　they　certainly　would　not　eatwhen　he　had
  arranged　the　tea…table；　and　made　the　grand　tour　at　least　twenty
  times；　he　placed　himself　with　a　book　at　the　little　round　window；　to
  watch　for　her　approach。　　There；　very　still；　he　sat；　not　reading　a
  word；　continually　moistening　his　dry　lips　and　sighing；　to　relieve
  the　tension　of　his　heart。　　At　last　he　saw　her　coming。　　She　was
  walking　close　to　the　railings　of　the　houses；　looking　neither　to
  right　nor　left。　　She　had　on　a　lawn　frock；　and　a　hat　of　the　palest
  coffee…coloured　straw；　with　a　narrow　black　velvet　ribbon。　　She
  crossed　the　side　street；　stopped　for　a　second；　gave　a　swift　look
  round；　then　came　resolutely　on。　　What　was　it　made　him　love　her　so？
  What　was　the　secret　of　her　fascination？　　Certainly；　no　conscious
  enticements。　　Never　did　anyone　try　less　to　fascinate。　　He　could　not
  recall　one　single　little　thing　that　she　had　done　to　draw　him　to
  her。　　Was　it；　perhaps；　her　very　passivity；　her　native　pride　that
  never　offered　or　asked　anything；　a　sort　of　soft　stoicism　in　her
  fibre；　that　and　some　mysterious　charm；　as　close　and　intimate　as
  scent　was　to　a　flower？
  He　waited　to　open　till　he　heard　her　footstep　just　outside。　　She
  came　in　without　a　word；　not　even　looking　at　him。　　And　he；　too；　said
  not　a　word　till　he　had　closed　the　door；　and　made　sure　of　her。　　Then
  they　turned　to　each　other。　　Her　breast　was　heaving　a　little；　under
  her　thin　frock；　but　she　was　calmer　than　he；　with　that　wonderful
  composure　of　pretty　women　in　all　the　passages　of　love；　as　who
  should　say：　This　is　my　native　air！
  They　stood　and　looked　at　each　other；　as　if　they　could　never　have
  enough；　till　he　said　at　last：
  〃I　thought　I　should　die　before　this　moment　came。　　There　isn't　a
  minute　that　I　don't　long　for　you　so　terribly　that　I　can　hardly
  live。〃
  〃And　do　you　think　that　I　don't　long　for　you？〃
  〃Then　come　to　me！〃
  She　looked　at　him　mournfully　and　shook　her　head。
  Well；　he　had　known　that　she　would　not。　　He　had　not　earned　her。
  What　right　had　he　to　ask　her　to　fly　against　the　world；　to　brave
  everything；　to　have　such　faith　in　himas　yet？　　He　had　no　heart　to
  press　his　words；　beginning　then　to　understand　the　paralyzing　truth
  that　there　was　no　longer　any　resolving　this　or　that；　with　love　like
  his　he　had　ceased　to　be　a　separate　being　with　a　separate　will。　　He
  was　entwined　with　her；　could　act　only　if　her　will　and　his　were　one。
  He　would　never　be　able　to　say　to　her：　'You　must！'　　He　loved　her　too
  much。　　And　she　knew　it。　　So　there　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　forget
  the　ache；　and　make　the　hour　happy。　　But　how　about　that　other　truth
  that　in　love　there　is　no　pause；　no　resting？　。　。　。　　With　any
  watering；　however　scant；　the　flower　will　grow　till　its　time　comes
  to　be　plucked。　。　。　。　　This　oasis　in　the　desertthese　few　minutes
  with　her　alone；　were　swept　through　and　through　with　a　feverish
  wind。　　To　be　closer！　　How　not　try　to　be　that？　　How　not　long　for　her
  lips　when　he　had　but　her　hand　to　kiss？　　And　how　not　be　poisoned
  with　the　thought　that　in　a　few　minutes　she　would　leave　him　and　go
  back　to　the　presence　of　that　other；　who；　even　though　she　loathed
  him；　could　see　and　touch　her　when　he　would？　　She　was　leaning　back
  in　the　very　chair　where　in　fancy　he　had　seen　her；　and　he　only　dared
  sit　at　her　feet　and　look　up。　　And　this；　which　a　week　ago　would　have
  been　rapture；　was　now　almost　torture；　so　far　did　it　fall　short　of
  his　longing。　　It　was　torture；　too；　to　keep　his　voice　in　tune　with
  the　sober　sweetness　of　her　voice。　　And　bitterly　he　thought：　How　can
  she　sit　there；　and　not　want　me；　as　I　want　her？　　Then　at　a　touch　of
  her　fingers　on　his　hair；　he　lost　control；　and　kissed　her　lips。　　Her
  surrender　lasted　only　for　a　second。
  〃No；　noyou　must　not！〃
  That　mournful　surprise　sobered　him　at　once。
  He　got　up；　stood　away　from　her；　begged　to　be　forgiven。
  And；　when　she　was　gone；　he　sat　in　the　chair　where　she　had　sat。
  That　clasp　of　her；　the　kiss　he　had　begged　her　to　forgetto
  forget！nothing　could　take　that　from　him。　　He　had　done　wrong；　had
  startled　her；　had　fallen　short　of　chivalry！　　And　yeta　smile　of
  utter　happiness　would　cling　about　his　lips。　　His　fastidiousness；
  his　imagination　almost　made　him　think　that　this　was　all　he　wanted。
  If　he　could　close　his　eyes；　now；　and　pass　out；　before　he　lost　that
  moment　of　half…fulfilment！
  And；　the　smile　still　on　his　lips；　he　lay　back　watching　the　flies
  wheeling　and　chasing　round　the　hanging…lamp。　　Sixteen　of　them　there
  were；　wheeling　and　chasingnever　still！
  XII
  When；　walking　from　Lennan's　studio；　Olive　reentered　her　dark　little
  hall；　she　approached　its　alcove　and　glanced　first　at　the　hat…stand。
  They　were　all　therethe　silk　hat；　the　bowler；　the　straw！　　So　he
  was　in！　　And　within　each　hat；　in　turn；　she　seemed　to　see　her
  husband's　headwith　the　face　turned　away　from　herso　distinctly
  as　to　note　the　leathery　look　of　the　skin　of　his　cheek　and　neck。
  And　she　thought：　〃I　pray　that　he　will