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her softly through the grass； and； when he was a little way off；
thought it best to halt。 If he startled her she might run away；
and he would not have the heart to follow。 How still she was； lost
in her brooding！ He wished he could see her face。 He spoke at
last； gently：
〃Sylvia！ 。 。 。 Would you mind？〃
And； seeing that she did not move； he went up to her。 Surely she
could not still be angry with him！
〃Thanks most awfully for that book you gave meit looks splendid！〃
She made no answer。 And leaning his rod against the stone； he
sighed。 That silence of hers seemed to him unjust； what was it she
wanted him to say or do？ Life was not worth living； if it was to
be all bottled up like this。
〃I never meant to hurt you。 I hate hurting people。 It's only that
my beasts are so badI can't bear people to see themespecially
youI want to please youI do really。 So； you see； that was all。
You MIGHT forgive me； Sylvia！〃
Something over the wall； a rustling； a scattering in the fern
deer； no doubt！ And again he said eagerly； softly：
〃You might be nice to me； Sylvia； you really might。〃
Very quickly； turning her head away； she said：
〃It isn't that any more。 It'sit's something else。〃
〃What else？〃
〃Nothingonly； that I don't countnow〃
He knelt down beside her。 What did she mean？ But he knew well
enough。
〃Of course； you count！ Most awfully！ Oh； don't be unhappy！ I
hate people being unhappy。 Don't be unhappy； Sylvia！〃 And he
began gently to stroke her arm。 It was all strange and troubled
within him； one thing only plainhe must not admit anything！ As
if reading that thought； her blue eyes seemed suddenly to search
right into him。 Then she pulled some blades of grass； and began
plaiting them。
〃SHE counts。〃
Ah！ He was not going to say： She doesn't！ It would be caddish to
say that。 Even if she didn't countDid she still？it would be
mean and low。 And in his eyes just then there was the look that
had made his tutor compare him to a lion cub in trouble。
Sylvia was touching his arm。
〃Mark！〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Don't！〃
He got up and took his rod。 What was the use？ He could not stay
there with her； since he could notmust not speak。
〃Are you going？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Are you angry？ PLEASE don't be angry with me。〃
He felt a choke in his throat； bent down to her hand； and kissed
it； then shouldered his rod； and marched away。 Looking back once；
he saw her still sitting there； gazing after him； forlorn； by that
great stone。 It seemed to him； then； there was nowhere he could
go； nowhere except among the birds and beasts and trees； who did
not mind even if you were all mixed up and horrible inside。 He lay
down in the grass on the bank。 He could see the tiny trout moving
round and round the stones； swallows came all about him； flying
very low； a hornet； too； bore him company for a little。 But he
could take interest in nothing； it was as if his spirit were in
prison。 It would have been nice； indeed； to be that water； never
staying； passing； passing； or wind； touching everything； never
caught。 To be able to do nothing without hurting someonethat was
what was so ghastly。 If only one were like a flower； that just
sprang up and lived its life all to itself； and died。 But whatever
he did； or said now； would be like telling lies； or else being
cruel。 The only thing was to keep away from people。 And yet how
keep away from his own guests？
He went back to the house for lunch； but both those guests were
out； no one seemed quite to know where。 Restless； unhappy；
puzzled； he wandered round and about all the afternoon。 Just
before dinner he was told of Mrs。 Stormer's not being well； and
that they would be leaving to…morrow。 Goingafter three days！
That plunged him deeper into his strange and sorrowful confusion。
He was reduced now to a complete brooding silence。 He knew he was
attracting attention； but could not help it。 Several times during
dinner he caught Gordy's eyes fixed on him； from under those puffy
half…closed lids； with asphyxiated speculation。 But he simply
COULD not talkeverything that came into his mind to say seemed
false。 Ah！ it was a sad eveningwith its glimmering vision into
another's sore heart； its confused gnawing sense of things broken；
faith betrayed； and yet always the perplexed wonder〃How could I
have helped it？〃 And always Sylvia's wistful face that he tried
not to look at。
He stole out； leaving Gordy and his tutor still over their wine；
and roamed about the garden a long time； listening sadly to the
owls。 It was a blessing to get upstairs； though of course he would
not sleep。
But he did sleep； all through a night of many dreams； in the last
of which he was lying on a mountain side； Anna looking down into
his eyes； and bending her face to his。 He woke just as her lips
touched him。 Still under the spell of that troubling dream； he
became conscious of the sound of wheels and horses' hoofs on the
gravel； and sprang out of bed。 There was the waggonette moving
from the door； old Godden driving； luggage piled up beside him； and
the Stormers sitting opposite each other in the carriage。 Going
away like thathaving never even said good…bye！ For a moment he
felt as people must when they have unwittingly killed someone
utterly stunned and miserable。 Then he dashed into his clothes。
He would not let her go thus！ He wouldhe mustsee her again！
What had he done that she should go like this？ He rushed
downstairs。 The hall was empty； nineteen minutes to eight！ The
train left at eight o'clock。 Had he time to saddle Bolero？ He
rushed round to the stables； but the cob was out； being shoed。 He
wouldhe must get there in time。 It would show her anyway that he
was not quite a cad。 He walked till the drive curved； then began
running hard。 A quarter of a mile； and already he felt better； not
so miserable and guilty； it was something to feel you had a tough
job in hand； all your work cut outsomething to have to think of
economizing strength； picking out the best going； keeping out of
the sun； saving your wind uphill； flying down any slope。 It was
cool still； and the dew had laid the dust； there was no traffic and
scarcely anyone to look back and gape as he ran by。 What he would
do； if he got there in timehow explain this mad three…mile run
he did not think。 He passed a farm that he knew was just half…way。
He had left his watch。 Indeed； he had put on only his trousers；
shirt； and Norfolk jacket； no tie； no hat； not even socks under his
tennis shoes； and he was as hot as fire； with his hair flying back
a strange young creature indeed for anyone to meet。 But he had
lost now all feeling； save the will to get there。 A flock of sheep
came out of a field into the lane。 He pushed through them somehow；
but they lost him several seconds。 More than a mile still； and he
was blown； and his legs beginning to give！ Downhill indeed they
went of their own accord； but there was the long run…in； quite
level； and he could hear the train； now slowly puffing its way
along the valley。 Then； in spite of exhaustion； his spirit rose。
He would not go in looking like a scarecrow； utterly done；