her　umbrella　and　Dr。　Edmund　was　so　sorry　about　it；　has　been　very　much
  worse；　so　she　is　not　here　but　in　Baden。　　I　wrote　to　her　but　have　no
  news；　so　I　do　not　know　whether　he　is　still　living　or　not；　at　any　rate
  he　can't　get　well　again　so　soon　（and　I　don't　think　he　ever　shall）。　　I
  think　as　the　weather　is　very　warm　you　and　Uncle　Nic　are　sitting　much
  out　of　doors。　　I　am　sending　presents　to　you　all　in　a　wooden　box　and
  screwed　very　firm；　so　you　shall　have　to　use　again　the　big　screw…
  driver　of　Fritz。　　For　Aunt　Constance；　photographs；　for　Uncle　Nic；　a
  green　bird　on　a　stand　with　a　hole　in　the　back　of　the　bird　to　put　his
  ashes　in；　it　is　a　good　green　and　not　expensif　please　tell　him；
  because　he　does　not　like　expensif　presents　（Miss　Naylor　says　the　bird
  has　an　inquiring　eyeit　is　a　parrat）；　for　you；　a　little　brooch　of
  turquoise　because　I　like　them　best；　for　Dr。　Edmund　a　machine　to　weigh
  medicines　in　because　he　said　he　could　not　get　a　good　one　in　Botzen；
  this　is　a　very　good　one；　the　shopman　told　me　so；　and　is　the　most
  expensif　of　all　the　presentsso　that　is　all　my　money；　except　two
  gulden。　　If　Papa　shall　give　me　some　more；　I　shall　buy　for　Miss　Naylor
  a　parasol；　because　it　is　useful　and　the　handle　of　hers　is　'wobbley'
  （that　is　one　of　Dr。　Edmund's　words　and　I　like　it）。
  〃Good…bye　for　this　time。　　Greta　sends　you　her　kiss。
  〃PS。Miss　Naylor　has　read　all　this　letter　（except　about　the　parasol）
  and　there　are　several　things　she　did　not　want　me　to　put；　so　I　have
  copied　it　without　the　things；　but　at　the　last　I　have　kept　that　copy
  myself；　so　that　is　why　this　is　smudgy　and　several　words　are　not　spelt
  well；　but　all　the　things　are　here。〃
  Christian　read；　smiling；　but　to　finish　it　was　like　dropping　a
  talisman；　and　her　face　clouded。　　A　sudden　draught　blew　her　hair
  about；　and　from　within；　Mr。　Treffry's　cough　mingled　with　the　soughing
  of　the　wind；　the　sky　was　fast　blackening。　　She　went　indoors；　took　a
  pen　and　began　to　write：
  〃MY　FRIEND；Why　haven't　you　written　to　me？　　It　is　so；　long　to　wait。
  Uncle　says　you　are　in　Italyit　is　dreadful　not　to　know　for　certain。
  I　feel　you　would　have　written　if　you　could；　and　I　can't　help　thinking
  of　all　the　things　that　may　have　happened。　　I　am　unhappy。　　Uncle　Nic
  is　ill；　he　will　not　confess　it；　that　is　his　way；　but　he　is　very　ill。
  Though　perhaps　you　will　never　see　this；　I　must　write　down　all　my
  thoughts。　　Sometimes　I　feel　that　I　am　brutal　to　be　always　thinking
  about　you；　scheming　how　to　be　with　you　again；　when　he　is　lying　there
  so　ill。　　How　good　he　has　always　been　to　me；　it　is　terrible　that　love
  should　pull　one　apart　so。　　Surely　love　should　be　beautiful；　and
  peaceful；　instead　of　filling　me　with　bitter；　wicked　thoughts。　　I　love
  youand　I　love　him；　I　feel　as　if　I　were　torn　in　two。　　Why　should　it
  be　so？　　Why　should　the　beginning　of　one　life　mean　the　ending　of
  another；　one　love　the　destruction　of　another？　　I　don't　understand。
  The　same　spirit　makes　me　love　you　and　him；　the　same　sympathy；　the
  same　trustyet　it　sometimes　seems　as　if　I　were　a　criminal　in　loving
  you。　　You　know　what　he　thinkshe　is　too　honest　not　to　have　shown
  you。　　He　has　talked　to　me；　he　likes　you　in　a　way；　but　you　are　a
  foreignerhe　says…your　life　is　not　my　life。　　'He　is　not　the　man　for
  you！'　　Those　were　his　words。　　And　now　he　doesn't　talk　to　me；　but　when
  I　am　in　the　room　he　looks　at　methat's　worsea　thousand　times；　when
  he　talks　it　rouses　me　to　fightwhen　it's　his　eyes　only；　I'm　a　coward
  at　once；　I　feel　I　would　do　anything；　anything；　only　not　to　hurt　him。
  Why　can't　he　see？　　Is　it　because　he's　old　and　we　are　young？　　He　may
  consent；　but　he　will　never；　never　see；　it　will　always　hurt　him。
  〃I　want　to　tell　you　everything；　I　have　had　worse　thoughts　than　these…
  …sometimes　I　have　thought　that　I　should　never　have　the　courage　to
  face　the　struggle　which　you　have　to　face。　　Then　I　feel　quite　broken；
  it　is　like　something　giving　way　in　me。　　Then　I　think　of　you；　and　it
  is　over；　but　it　has　been　there；　and　I　am　ashamedI　told　you　I　was　a
  coward。　　It's　like　the　feeling　one　would　have　going　out　into　a　storm
  on　a　dark　night；　away　from　a　warm　fireonly　of　the　spirit　not　the
  bodywhich　makes　it　worse。　　I　had　to　tell　you　this；　you　mustn't
  think　of　it　again；　I　mean　to　fight　it　away　and　forget　that　it　has
  ever　been　there。　　But　Uncle　Nicwhat　am　I　to　do？　　I　hate　myself
  because　I　am　young；　and　he　is　old　and　weaksometimes　I　seem　even　to
  hate　him。　　I　have　all　sorts　of　thoughts；　and　always　at　the　end　of
  them；　like　a　dark　hole　at　the　end　of　a　passage；　the　thought　that　I
  ought　to　give　you　up。　　Ought　I？　　Tell　me。　　I　want　to　know；　I　want　to
  do　what　is　right；　I　still　want　to　do　that；　though　sometimes　I　think　I
  am　all　made　of　evil。
  〃Do　you　remember　once　when　we　were　talking；　you　said：　'Nature　always
  has　an　answer　for　every　question；　you　cannot　get　an　answer　from　laws；
  conventions；　theories；　words；　only　from　Nature。'　　What　do　you　say　to
  me　now；　do　you　tell　me　it　is　Nature　to　come　to　you　in　spite　of
  everything；　and　so；　that　it　must　be　right？　　I　think　you　would；　but
  can　it　be　Nature　to　do　something　which　will　hurt　terribly　one　whom　I
  love　and　who　loves　me？　　If　it　isNature　is　cruel。　　Is　that　one　of
  the　'lessons　of　life'？　　Is　that　what　Aunt　Constance　means　when　she
  says：　'If　life　were　not　a　paradox；　we　could　not　get　on　at　all'？　　I　am
  beginning　to　see　that　everything　has　its　dark　side；　I　never　believed
  that　before。
  〃Uncle　Nic　dreads　the　life　for　me；　he　doesn't　understand　（how　should
  he？he　has　always　had　money）　how　life　can　be　tolerable　without　money
  it　is　horrible　that　the　accident　of　money　should　make　such
  difference　in　our　lives。　　I　am　sometimes　afraid　myself；　and　I　can't
  outface　that　fear　in　him；　he　sees　the　shadow　of　his　fear　in　mehis
  eyes　seem　to　see　everything　that　is　in　me　now；　the　eyes　of　old　people
  are　the　saddest　things　in　the　world。　　I　am　writing　like　a　wretched
  coward；　but　you　will　never　see　this　letter　I　suppose；　and　so　it
  doesn't　matter；　but　if　you　do；　and　I　pray　that　you　maywell；　if　I　am
  only　worth　taking　at　my　best；　I　am　not　worth　taking　at　all。　　I　want
  you　to　know　the　worst　of　meyou；　and　no　one　else。
  〃With　Uncle　Nic　it　is　not　as　with　my　stepfather；　his　opposition　only
  makes　me　angry；　mad；　ready　to　do　anything；　but　with　Uncle　Nic　I　feel
  so　bruisedso　sore。　　He　said：　'It　is　not　so　much　the　money；　because
  there　is　always　mine。'　　I　could　never　do　a　thing　he　cannot　bear；　and
  take　his　money；　and　you　would　never　let　me。　　One　knows　very　little　of
  anything　in　the　world　till　trouble　comes。　　You　know　how　it　is　with
  flowers　and　trees；　in　the　early　spring　they　look　so　quiet　and　self…
  contained；　then　all　in　a　moment　they　changeI　think　it　must　be　like
  that　with　the　heart。　　I　used　to　think　I　knew　a　great　deal；　understood
  why　and　how　things　came　about；　I　thought　self…possession　and　reason
  so　easy；　now　I　know　nothing。　　And　nothing　in　the　world　matters　but　to
  see　you　and　hide　away　from　that　look　in　Uncle　Nic's　eyes。　　Three
  months　ago　I　did　not　know　you；　now　I　write　like　this。　　Whatever　I
  look　at；　I　try　to　see　as　you　would　see；　I　feel；　now　you　are　away　even
  more　than　when　you　were　with　me；　what　your　thoughts　would　be；　how　you
  would　feel　about　this　or　that。　　Some　things　you　have　said　seem　always
  in　my　mind　like　lights〃
  A　slanting　drift　of　rain　was　striking　the　veranda　tiles　with　a　cold；
  ceaseless　hissing。　　Christian　shut　the　window；　and　went　into　her
  uncle's　room。
  He　was　lying　with　closed　eyes；　growling　at　Dominique；　who　moved　about
  noiselessly；　putting　the　room　ready　for　the　night。　　When　he　had
  finished；　and　with　a　compassionate　bow　had　left　the　room；　Mr。　Treffry
  opened　his　eyes；　and　said：
  〃This　is　beastly　stuff　of　the　doctor's；　Chris；　it　puts　my　monkey　up；
  I　can't　help　swearing　after　I've　taken　it；　it's　as　beastly　as　a
  vulgar　woman's　laugh；　and　I　don't　know　anything　beastlier　than　that！〃
  〃I　have　a　letter　from　Greta；　Uncle　Nic；　shall　I　read　it？〃
  He　nodded；　and　Christian　read　the　letter；　leaving　out　the　mention　of
  Harz；　and　for　some　undefined　reason　the　part　about　Sarelli。
  〃Ay！〃　said　Mr。　Treffry　with　a　feeble　laugh；　〃Greta　and　her　money！
  Send　her　some　more；　Chris。　　Wish　I　were　a　youngster　again；　that's　a
  beast　of　a　proverb　about　a　dog　and　his　day。　　I'd　like　to　go　fishing
  again　in　the　West　Country！　　A　fine　time　we　had　when　we　were
  youngsters。　　You　don't　get　such　times　these　days。　　'Twasn't　often　the
  fishing…smacks　went　out　without　us。　　We'd　watch　their　lights　from　our
  bedroom　window；　when　they　were　swung　aboard　we　were　out　and　down　to
  the　quay　before　you　could　say　'knife。'　　They　always　waited　for　us；
  but　your　Uncle　Dan　was　the　favourite；　he　was　the　chap　for　luck。　　When
  I　get　on　my　legs；　we　might　go　down　there；　you　and　I？　　For　a　bit；　just
  to　see？　　What　d'you　say；　old　girl？〃
  Their　eyes　met。
  〃I'd　like　to　look　at　the　smack　lights　going　to　sea　on　a　dark　night；
  pity　you're　such　a　duffer　in　a　boatwe　might　go　out　with　them。　　Do
  you　a　power　of　good！　　You're　not　looking　the　thing；　my