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else； he had become the owner of several hundred acres of pasture；
woodland and orchard； acquired some seventy…five head of blooded stock；
and proceeded to house them in model barns and milk by machinery； for
several months he had bored everyone in the Boyne Club whom he could
entice into conversation on the subject of the records of pedigreed cows；
and spent many bibulous nights on the farm in company with those
parasites who surrounded him when he was in town。 Then another interest
had intervened； a feminine one； of course； and his energies were
transferred （so we understood） to the reconstruction and furnishing of a
little residence in New York； not far from Fifth Avenue。 The farm
continued under the expert direction of a superintendent who was a
graduate of the State Agricultural College； and a select clientele； which
could afford to pay the prices； consumed the milk and cream and butter。
Quite consistent with their marital relations was the fact that Nancy
should have taken a fancy to the place after Ham's interest had waned。
Not that she cared for the Guernseys； or Jerseys； or whatever they may
have been； she evinced a sudden passion for simplicity；occasional
simplicity； at least；for a contrast to and escape from a complicated
life of luxury。 She built another house for the superintendent banished
him from the little farmhouse （where Ham had kept two rooms）； banished
along with the superintendent the stiff plush furniture； the yellow…red
carpets； the easels and the melodeon； and decked it out in bright
chintzes； with wall…papers to match； dainty muslin curtains； and rag…
carpet rugs on the hardwood floors。 The pseudo…classic porch over the
doorway； which had suggested a cemetery； was removed； and a wide piazza
added； furnished with wicker lounging chairs and tables； and shaded with
gay awnings。
Here； to the farm； accompanied by a maid； she had been in the habit of
retiring from time to time； and here she came in early July。 Here；
dressed in the simplest linen gowns of pink or blue or white； I found a
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