Nancy　magically　restored　to　girlhood；anew　Nancy；　betraying　only　traces
  of　the　old；　a　new　Nancy　in　a　new　Eden。　　We　had　all　the　setting；　all　the
  illusion　of　that　perfect　ideal　of　domesticity；　love　in　a　cottage。　　Nancy
  and　I；　who　all　our　lives　had　spurned　simplicity；　laughed　over　the　joy　we
  found　in　it：　she　made　a　high　art　of　it；　of　course；　we　had　our　simple
  dinners；　which　Mrs。　Olsen　cooked　and　served　in　the　open　air；　sometimes　on
  the　porch；　sometimes　under　the　great　butternut　tree　spreading　its　shade
  over　what　in　a　more　elaborate　country…place；
  would　have　been　called　a　lawn；an　uneven　plot　of　grass　of　ridges　and
  hollows　that　ran　down　to　the　orchard。　　Nancy's　eyes　would　meet　mine
  across　the　little　table；　and　often　our　gaze　would　wander　over　the
  pastures　below；　lucent　green　in　the　level　evening　light；　to　the　darkening
  woods　beyond；　gilt…tipped　in　the　setting　sun。　　There　were　fields　of
  ripening　yellow　grain；　of　lusty　young　corn　that　grew　almost　as　we　watched
  it：　the　warm　winds　of　evening　were　heavy　with　the　acrid　odours　of
  fecundity。　　Fecundity！　　In　that　lay　the　elusive　yet　insistent　charm　of
  that　country；　and　Nancy's；　of　course；　was　the　transforming　touch　that
  made　it　paradise。　　It　was　thus；　in　the　country；　I　suggested　that　we
  should　spend　the　rest　of　our　existence。　　What　was　the　use　of　amassing
  money；　when　happiness　was　to　be　had　so　simply？
  〃How　long　do　you　think　you　could　stand　it？〃　she　asked；　as　she　handed　me　a
  plate　of　blackberries。
  〃Forever；　with　the　right　woman；〃　I　announced。
  〃How　long　could　the　woman　stand　it？〃。。。。　　She　humoured；　smilingly；　my
  crystal…gazing　into　our　future；　as　though　she　had　not　the　heart　to
  deprive　me　of　the　pleasure。
  〃I　simply　can't　believe　in　it；　Hugh；〃　she　said　when　I　pressed　her　for　an
  answer。
  〃Why　not？〃
  〃I　suppose　it's　because　I　believe　in　continuity；　I　haven't　the　romantic
  temperament；I　always　see　the　angel　with　the　flaming　sword。　　It　isn't
  that　I　want　to　see　him。〃
  〃But　we　shall　redeem　ourselves；〃　I　said。　　〃It　won't　be　curiosity　and
  idleness。　　We　are　not　just　taking　this　thing；　and　expecting　to　give
  nothing　for　it　in　return。〃
  〃What　can　we　give　that　is　worth　it？〃　she　exclaimed；　with　one　of　her
  revealing　flashes。
  〃We　won't　take　it　lightly；　but　seriously；〃　I　told　her。　　〃We　shall　find
  something　to　give；　and　that　something　will　spring　naturally　out　of　our
  love。　　We'll　read　together；　and　think　and　plan　together。〃
  〃Oh；　Hugh；　you　are　incorrigible；〃　was　all　she　said。
  The　male　tendency　in　me　was　forever　strained　to　solve　her；　to　deduce　from
  her　conversation　and　conduct　a　body　of　consistent　law。　　The　effort　was
  useless。　　Here　was　a　realm；　that　of　Nancy's　soul；　in　which　there　was
  apparently　no　such　thing　as　relevancy。　　In　the　twilight；　after　dinner；　we
  often　walked　through　the　orchard　to　a　grassy　bank　beside　the　little
  stream；　where　we　would　sit　and　watch　the　dying　glow　in　the　sky。　　After　a
  rain　its　swollen　waters　were　turbid；　opaque　yellow…red　with　the　clay　of
  the　hills；　at　other　times　it　ran　smoothly；　temperately；　almost　clear
  between　the　pasture　grasses　and　wild　flowers。　　Nancy　declared　that　it
  reminded　her　of　me。　　We　sat　there；　into　the　lush；　warm　nights；　and　the
  moon　shone　down　on　us；　or　again　through　long　silences　we　searched　the
  bewildering；　starry　chart　of　the　heavens；　with　the　undertones　of　the
  night…chorus　of　the　fields　in　our　ears。　　Sometimes　she　let　my　head　rest
  upon　her　knee；　but　when；　throbbing　at　her　touch；　with　the　life…force
  pulsing　around　us；　I　tried　to　take　her　in　my　arms；　to　bring　her　lips　to
  mine；　she　resisted　me　with　an　energy　of　will　and　body　that　I　could　not
  overcome；　I　dared　not　overcome。　　She　acknowledged　her　love　for　me；　she
  permitted　me　to　come　to　her；　she　had　the　air　of　yielding　but　never
  yielded。　　Why；　then；　did
  she　allow　the　words　of　love　to　pass？　and　how　draw　the　line　between
  caresses？　　I　was　maddened　and　disheartened　by　that　elusive　resistance　in
  herapparently　so　frail　a　thing！that　neither　argument　nor　importunity
  could　break　down。　　Was　there　something　lacking　in　me？　or　was　it　that　I
  feared　to　mar　or　destroy　the　love　she　had。　　This；　surely；　had　not　been
  the　fashion　of　other　loves；　called　unlawful；　the　classic　instances
  celebrated　by　the　poets　of　all　ages　rose　to　mock　me。
  〃Incurably　romantic；〃　she　had　called　me；　in　calmer　moments；　when　I　was
  able　to　discuss　our　affair　objectively。　　And　once　she　declared　that　I　had
  no　sense　of　tragedy。　　We　read　〃Macbeth〃　　together；　I　remember；　one　rainy
  Sunday。　　The　modern　world；　which　was　our　generation；　would　seem　to　be　cut
  off　from　all　that　preceded　it　as　with　a　descending　knife。　　It　was
  precisely　from　〃the　sense　of　tragedy〃　that　we　had　been　emancipated：　from
  the　〃agonized　conscience；〃　I　should　undoubtedly　have　said；　had　I　been
  acquainted　then　with　Mr。　Santayana's　later　phrase。　　Conscience；　the　old
  kind　of　conscience；and　nothing　inherent　in　the　deeds　themselves；　made
  the　tragedy；　conscience　was　superstition；　the　fear　of　the　wrath　of　the
  gods：　conscience　was　the　wrath　of　the　gods。　　Eliminate　it；　and　behold！
  there　were　no　consequences。　　The　gods　themselves；　that　kind　of　gods；
  became　as　extinct　as　the　deities　of　the　Druids；　the　Greek　fates；　the
  terrible　figures　of　German　mythology。　　Yes；　and　as　the　God　of　Christian
  orthodoxy。
  Had　any　dire　calamities　overtaken　the　modern　Macbeths；　of　whose　personal
  lives　we　happened　to　know　something？　　Had　not　these　great　ones　broken
  with　impunity　all　the　laws　of　traditional　morality？　　They　ground　the
  faces　of　the　poor；　played　golf　and　went　to　church　with　serene　minds；
  untroubled　by　criticism；　they　appropriated；　quite　freely；　other　men's
  money；　and　some　of　them　other　men's　wives；　and　yet　they　were　not　haggard
  with　remorse。　　The　gods　remained　silent。　　Christian　ministers　regarded
  these　modern　transgressors　of　ancient　laws　benignly　and　accepted　their
  contributions。　　Here；　indeed；　were　the　supermen　of　the　mad　German　prophet
  and　philosopher　come　to　life；　refuting　all　classic　tragedy。　　It　is　true
  that　some　of　these　supermen　were　occasionally　swept　away　by　disease；
  which　in　ancient　days　would　have　been　regarded　as　a　retributive　scourge；
  but　was　in　fact　nothing　but　the　logical　working　of　the　laws　of　hygiene；
  the　result　of　overwork。　　Such；　though　stated　more　crudely；　were　my
  contentions　when　desire　did　not　cloud　my　brain　and　make　me　incoherent。
  And　I　did　not　fail　to　remind　Nancy；　constantly；　that　this　was　the　path　on
  which　her　feet　had　been　set；　that　to　waver　now　was　to　perish。　　She
  smiled；　yet　she　showed　concern。
  〃But　suppose　you　don't　get　what　you　want？〃　she　objected。　　〃What　then？
  Suppose　one　doesn't　become　a　superman？　or　a　superwoman？　　What's　to　happen
  to　one？　　Is　there　no　god　but　the　superman's　god；　which　is　himself？　　Are
  there　no　gods　for　those　who　can't　be　supermen？　or　for　those　who　may
  refuse　to　be　supermen？〃
  To　refuse；　I　maintained；　were　a　weakness　of　the　will。
  〃But　there　are　other　wills；〃　she　persisted；　〃wills　over　which　the
  superman　may　conceivably　have　no　control。　　Suppose；　for　example；　that　you
  don't　get　me；　that　my　will　intervenes；　granting　it　to　be　conceivable　that
  your　future　happiness　and　welfare；　as　you　insist；　depend　upon　your
  getting　mewhich　I　doubt。〃
  〃You've　no　reason　to　doubt　it。〃
  〃Well；　granting　it；　then。　　Suppose　the　orthodoxies　and　superstitions
  succeed　in　inhibiting　me。　　I　may　not　be　a　superwoman；　but　my　will；　or　my
  conscience；　if　you　choose；　may　be　stronger　than　yours。　　If　you　don't　get
  what　you　want；　you　aren't　happy。　　In　other　words；　you　fail。　　Where　are
  your　gods　then？　　The　trouble　with　you；　my　dear　Hugh；　is　that　you　have
  never　failed；〃　she　went　on；　〃you've　never　had　a　good；　hard　fall；　you've
  always　been　on　the　winning　side；　and　you've　never　had　the　world　against
  you。　　No　wonder　you　don't　understand　the　meaning　and　value　of　tragedy。〃
  〃And　you？〃　I　asked。
  〃No；〃　she　agreed；　〃nor　I。　　Yet　I　have　come　to　feel；　instinctively；　that
  somehow　concealed　in　tragedy　is　the　central　fact　of　life；　the　true
  reality；　that　nothing　is　to　be　got　by　dodging　it；　as　we　have　dodged　it。
  Your　superman；　at　least　the　kind　of　superman　you　portray；　is　petrified。
  Something　vital　in　him；　that　should　be　plastic　and　sensitive；　has　turned
  to　stone。〃
  〃Since　when　did　you　begin　to　feel　this？〃　　I　inquired　uneasily。
  〃Sincewell；　since　we　have　been　together　again；　in　the　last　month　or
  two。　　Something　seems　to　warn　me　that　if　we　takewhat　we　want；　we　shan't
  get　it。　　That's　an　Irish　saying；　I　know；　but　it　expresses　my　meaning。　　I
  may　be　little；　I　may　be　superstitious；　unlike　the　great　women　of　history
  who　have　dared。　　But　it's　more　than　mere　playing　safemy　instinct；　I
  mean。　　You　see；　you　are　involved。　　I　believe　I　shouldn't　hesitate　if　only
  myself　were　concerned；　but　you　are　the　uncertain　quantitymore　uncertain
  than　you　have　any　idea；　you　think　you　know　yourself；　you　think　you　have
  analyzed　yourself；　but　the　truth　is；　Hugh；　you　don't　know　the　meaning　of
  struggle　against　real　resistance。〃
  I　was　about　to　protest。
  〃I　know　that　you　have　conquered　in　the　world　of　men　and　affairs；〃　she
  hurried　on；　〃against　resistance；　but　it　isn't　the　kind　of　resistance　I
  mean。　　It　doesn't　differ　essentially　from　the　struggle　in　the　animal
  kingdom。〃
  I　bowed。　　〃Thank　you；〃　I　said。
  She