dark　plane…tree　leaves　tap…tapped　at　the　window　in　the　autumn　wind；
  watching；　with　the　uncanny　certainty　that；　he　would　not　pass　the
  limits　of　this　night　without　having　made　at　last　a　decision　that
  would　not　alter。　　For　even　conflict　wears　itself　out；　even
  indecision　has　this　measure　set　to　its　miserable　powers　of　torture；
  that　any　issue　in　the　end　is　better　than　the　hell　of　indecision
  itself。　　Once　or　twice　in　those　last　days　even　death　had　seemed　to
  him　quite　tolerable；　but　now　that　his　head　was　clear　and　he　had
  come　to　grips；　death　passed　out　of　his　mind　like　the　shadow　that　it
  was。　　Nothing　so　simple；　extravagant；　and　vain　could　serve　him。
  Other　issues　had　reality；　deathnone。　　To　leave　Sylvia；　and　take
  this　young　love　away；　there　was　reality　in　that；　but　it　had　always
  faded　as　soon　as　it　shaped　itself；　and　now　once　more　it　faded。　　To
  put　such　a　public　and　terrible　affront　on　a　tender　wife　whom　he
  loved；　do　her　to　death；　as　it　were；　before　the　world's　eyesand
  then；　ever　remorseful；　grow　old　while　the　girl　was　still　young？　　He
  could　not。　　If　Sylvia　had　not　loved　him；　yes；　or；　even　if　he　had
  not　loved　her；　or　if；　again；　though　loving　him　she　had　stood　upon
  her　rightsin　any　of　those　events　he　might　have　done　it。　　But　to
  leave　her　whom　he　did　love；　and　who　had　said　to　him　so　generously：
  〃I　will　not　hamper　yougo　to　her〃would　be　a　black　atrocity。
  Every　memory；　from　their　boy…and…girl　lovering　to　the　desperate
  clinging　of　her　arms　these　last　two　nightsmemory　with　its
  innumerable　tentacles；　the　invincible　strength　of　its　countless
  threads；　bound　him　to　her　too　fast。　　What　then？　　Must　it　come；
  after　all；　to　giving　up　the　girl？　　And　sitting　there；　by　that　warm
  fire；　he　shivered。　　How　desolate；　sacrilegious；　wasteful　to　throw
  love　away；　to　turn　from　the　most　precious　of　all　gifts；　to　drop　and
  break　that　vase！　　There　was　not　too　much　love　in　the　world；　nor　too
  much　warmth　and　beautynot；　anyway；　for　those　whose　sands　were
  running　out；　whose　blood　would　soon　be　cold。
  Could　Sylvia　not　let　him　keep　both　her　love　and　the　girl's？　　Could
  she　not　bear　that？　　She　had　said　she　could；　but　her　face；　her　eyes；
  her　voice　gave　her　the　lie；　so　that　every　time　he　heard　her　his
  heart　turned　sick　with　pity。　　This；　then；　was　the　real　issue。
  Could　he　accept　from　her　such　a　sacrifice；　exact　a　daily　misery；
  see　her　droop　and　fade　beneath　it？　　Could　he　bear　his　own　happiness
  at　such　a　cost？　　Would　it　be　happiness　at　all？　　He　got　up　from　the
  chair　and　crept　towards　her。　　She　looked　very　fragile　sleeping
  there！　　The　darkness　below　her　closed　eyelids　showed　cruelly　on
  that　too　fair　skin；　and　in　her　flax…coloured　hair　he　saw　what　he
  had　never　noticeda　few　strands　of　white。　　Her　softly　opened　lips；
  almost　colourless；　quivered　with　her　uneven　breathing；　and　now　and
  again　a　little　feverish　shiver　passed　up　as　from　her　heart。　　All
  soft　and　fragile！　　Not　much　life；　not　much　strength；　youth　and
  beauty　slipping！　　To　know　that　he　who　should　be　her　champion
  against　age　and　time　would　day　by　day　be　placing　one　more　mark　upon
  her　face；　one　more　sorrow　in　her　heart！　　That　he　should　do　this
  they　both　going　down　the　years　together！
  As　he　stood　there　holding　his　breath；　bending　to　look　at　her；　that
  slurring　swish　of　the　plane…tree　branch；　flung　against　and　against
  the　window　by　the　autumn　wind；　seemed　filling　the　whole　world。
  Then　her　lips　moved　in　one　of　those　little；　soft　hurrying　whispers
  that　unhappy　dreamers　utter；　the　words　all　blurred　with　their
  wistful　rushing。
  And　he　thought：　I；　who　believe　in　bravery　and　kindness；　I；　who　hate
  crueltyif　I　do　this　cruel　thing；　what　shall　I　have　to　live　for；
  how　shall　I　work；　how　bear　myself？　　If　I　do　it；　I　am　lostan
  outcast　from　my　own　faitha　renegade　from　all　that　I　believe　in。
  And；　kneeling　there　close　to　that　face　so　sad　and　lonely；　that
  heart　so　beaten　even　in　its　sleep；　he　knew　that　he　could　not　do　it
  knew　it　with　sudden　certainty；　and　a　curious　sense　of　peace。
  Over！the　long　struggleover　at　last！　　Youth　with　youth；　summer
  to　summer；　falling　leaf　with　falling　leaf！　　And　behind　him　the　fire
  flickered；　and　the　plane…tree　leaves　tap…tapped。
  He　rose；　and　crept　away　stealthily　downstairs　into　the　drawing…
  room；　and　through　the　window　at　the　far　end　out　into　the　courtyard；
  where　he　had　sat　that　day　by　the　hydrangea；　listening　to　the　piano…
  organ。　　Very　dark　and　cold　and　eerie　it　was　there；　and　he　hurried
  across　to　his　studio。　　There；　too；　it　was　cold；　and　dark；　and
  eerie；　with　its　ghostly　plaster　presences；　stale　scent　of
  cigarettes；　and　just　one　glowing　ember　of　the　fire　he　had　left　when
  he　rushed　out　after　Nellthose　seven　hours　ago。
  He　went　first　to　the　bureau；　turned　up　its　lamp；　and　taking　out
  some　sheets　of　paper；　marked　on　them　directions　for　his　various
  works；　for　the　statuette　of　Nell；　he　noted　that　it　should　be　taken
  with　his　compliments　to　Mr。　Dromore。　　He　wrote　a　letter　to　his
  banker　directing　money　to　be　sent　to　Rome；　and　to　his　solicitor
  telling　him　to　let　the　house。　　He　wrote　quickly。　　If　Sylvia　woke；
  and　found　him　still　away；　what　might　she　not　think？　　He　took　a　last
  sheet。　　Did　it　matter　what　he　wrote；　what　deliberate　lie；　if　it
  helped　Nell　over　the　first　shock？
  〃DEAR　NELL；
  〃I　write　this　hastily　in　the　early　hours；　to　say　that　we　are　called
  out　to　Italy　to　my　only　sister；　who　is　very　ill。　　We　leave　by　the
  first　morning　boat；　and　may　be　away　some　time。　　I　will　write　again。
  Don't　fret；　and　God　bless　you。
  〃M。　L。〃
  He　could　not　see　very　well　as　he　wrote。　　Poor；　loving；　desperate
  child！　　Well；　she　had　youth　and　strength；　and　would　soon　have
  Oliver！　　And　he　took　yet　another　sheet。
  〃DEAR　OLIVER；
  〃My　wife　and　I　are　obliged　to　go　post…haste　to　Italy。　　I　watched
  you　both　at　the　dance　the　other　night。　　Be　very　gentle　with　Nell；
  andgood　luck　to　you！　　But　don't　say　again　that　I　told　you　to　be
  patient；　it　is　hardly　the　way　to　make　her　love　you。
  〃M。　LENNAN。〃
  That；　then；　was　allyes；　all！　　He　turned　out　the　little　lamp；　and
  groped　towards　the　hearth。　　But　one　thing　left。　　To　say　good…bye！
  To　her；　and　Youth；　and　Passion！to　the　only　salve　for　the　aching
  that　Spring　and　Beauty　bringthe　aching　for　the　wild；　the
  passionate；　the　new；　that　never　quite　dies　in　a　man's　heart。　　Ah！
  well；　sooner　or　later；　all　men　had　to　say　good…bye　to　that。　　All
  menall　men！
  He　crouched　down　before　the　hearth。　　There　was　no　warmth　in　that
  fast…blackening　ember；　but　it　still　glowed　like　a　dark…red　flower。
  And　while　it　lived　he　crouched　there；　as　though　it　were　that　to
  which　he　was　saying　good…bye。　　And　on　the　door　he　heard　the　girl's
  ghostly　knocking。　　And　beside　hima　ghost　among　the　ghostly
  presencesshe　stood。　　Slowly　the　glow　blackened；　till　the　last
  spark　had　faded　out。
  Then　by　the　glimmer　of　the　night　he　found　his　way　back；　softly　as
  he　had　come；　to　his　bedroom。
  Sylvia　was　still　sleeping；　and；　to　watch　for　her　to　wake；　he　sat
  down　again　by　the　fire；　in　silence　only　stirred　by　the　frail　tap…
  tapping　of　those　autumn　leaves；　and　the　little　catch　in　her
  breathing　now　and　then。　　It　was　less　troubled　than　when　he　had　bent
  over　her　before；　as　though　in　her　sleep　she　knew。　　He　must　not　miss
  the　moment　of　her　waking；　must　be　beside　her　before　she　came　to
  full　consciousness；　to　say：　〃There；　there！　　It's　all　over；　we　are
  going　away　at　onceat　once。〃　　To　be　ready　to　offer　that　quick
  solace；　before　she　had　time　to　plunge　back　into　her　sorrow；　was　an
  island　in　this　black　sea　of　night；　a　single　little　refuge　point　for
  his　bereaved　and　naked　being。　　Something　to　dosomething　fixed；
  real；　certain。　　And　yet　another　long　hour　before　her　waking；　he　sat
  forward　in　the　chair；　with　that　wistful　eagerness；　his　eyes　fixed
  on　her　face；　staring　through　it　at　some　vision；　some　faint；
  glimmering　lightfar　out　there　beyondas　a　traveller　watches　a
  star。　。　。　。
  End