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post。 All was still and drowsy out there in that quiet backwater
of a street。 Not a soul in sight！ How still； for London！ Only
the birds。 In a neighbouring studio someone was playing Chopin。
Queer！ He had almost forgotten there was such a thing as Chopin。
A mazurka！ Spinning like some top thing； round and roundweird
little tune！ 。 。 。 Well； and what now？ Only one thing certain。
Sooner give up life than give her up！ Far sooner！ Love her；
achieve heror give up everything； and drown to that tune going on
and on； that little dancing dirge of summer！
XVI
At her cottage Olive stood often by the river。
What lay beneath all that bright waterwhat strange； deep；
swaying； life so far below the ruffling of wind； and the shadows of
the willow trees？ Was love down there； too？ Love between sentient
things； where it was almost dark； or had all passion climbed up to
rustle with the reeds； and float with the water…flowers in the
sunlight？ Was there colour？ Or had colour been drowned？ No scent
and no music； but movement there would be； for all the dim groping
things bending one way to the currentmovement； no less than in
the aspen…leaves； never quite still； and the winged droves of the
clouds。 And if it were dark down there； it was dark； too； above
the water； and hearts ached； and eyes just as much searched for
that which did not come。
To watch it always flowing by to the sea； never looking back； never
swaying this way or that； drifting along； quiet as Fatedark； or
glamorous with the gold and moonlight of these beautiful days and
nights； when every flower in her garden； in the fields； and along
the river banks； was full of sweet life； when dog…roses starred the
lanes； and in the wood the bracken was nearly a foot high。
She was not alone there； though she would much rather have been；
two days after she left London her Uncle and Aunt had joined her。
It was from Cramier they had received their invitation。 He himself
had not yet been down。
Every night； having parted from Mrs。 Ercott and gone up the wide
shallow stairs to her room； she would sit down at the window to
write to Lennan； one candle beside herone pale flame for comrade；
as it might be his spirit。 Every evening she poured out to him her
thoughts； and ended always： 〃Have patience！〃 She was still waiting
for courage to pass that dark hedge of impalpable doubts and fears
and scruples； of a dread that she could not make articulate even to
herself。 Having finished； she would lean out into the night。 The
Colonel； his black figure cloaked against the dew； would be pacing
up and down the lawn； with his good…night cigar； whose fiery spark
she could just discern； and； beyond； her ghostly dove…house； and；
beyond； the riverflowing。 Then she would clasp herself close
afraid to stretch out her arms； lest she should be seen。
Each morning she rose early； dressed； and slipped away to the
village to post her letter。 From the woods across the river wild
pigeons would be callingas though Love itself pleaded with her
afresh each day。 She was back well before breakfast； to go up to
her room and come down again as if for the first time。 The
Colonel； meeting her on the stairs； or in the hall； would say： 〃Ah；
my dear！ just beaten you！ Slept well？〃 And； while her lips
touched his cheek； slanted at the proper angle for uncles； he never
dreamed that she had been three miles already through the dew。
Now that she was in the throes of an indecision； whose ending； one
way or the other； must be so tremendous； now that she was in the
very swirl； she let no sign at all escape her； the Colonel and even
his wife were deceived into thinking that after all no great harm
had been done。 It was grateful to them to think so； because of
that stewardship at Monte Carlo； of which they could not render too
good account。 The warm sleepy days； with a little croquet and a
little paddling on the river； and much sitting out of doors； when
the Colonel would read aloud from Tennyson； were very pleasant。 To
himif not to Mrs。 Ercottit was especially jolly to be out of
Town 'this confounded crowded time of year。' And so the days of
early June went by； each finer than the last。
And then Cramier came down； without warning on a Friday evening。
It was hot in London 。 。 。 the session dull。 。 。 。 The Jubilee
turning everything upside down。 。 。 。 They were lucky to be out of
Town！
A silent dinnerthat！
Mrs。 Ercott noticed that he drank wine like water； and for minutes
at a time fixed his eyes； that looked heavy as if he had not been
sleeping； not on his wife's face but on her neck。 If Olive really
disliked and feared himas John would have itshe disguised her
feelings very well！ For so pale a woman she was looking brilliant
that night。 The sun had caught her cheeks； perhaps。 That black
low…cut frock suited her； with old Milanese…point lace matching her
skin so well； and one carnation； of darkest red； at her breast。
Her eyes were really sometimes like black velvet。 It suited pale
women to have those eyes； that looked so black at night！ She was
talking； too； and laughing more than usual。 One would have said： A
wife delighted to welcome her husband！ And yet there was
somethingsomething in the air； in the feel of thingsthe
lowering fixity of that man's eyes； orthunder coming； after all
this heat！ Surely the night was unnaturally still and dark； hardly
a breath of air； and so many moths out there； passing the beam of
light； like little pale spirits crossing a river！ Mrs。 Ercott
smiled； pleased at that image。 Moths！ Men were like moths； there
were women from whom they could not keep away。 Yes； there was
something about Olive that drew men to her。 Not meretriciousto
do her justice； not that at all； but something soft； and…fatal；
like one of these candle…flames to the poor moths。 John's eyes
were never quite as she knew them when he was looking at Olive； and
Robert Cramier'swhat a queer； drugged look they had！ As for that
other poor young fellowshe had never forgotten his face when they
came on him in the Park！
And when after dinner they sat on the veranda； they were all more
silent still； just watching； it seemed； the smoke of their
cigarettes； rising quite straight； as though wind had been
withdrawn from the world。 The Colonel twice endeavoured to speak
about the moon： It ought to be up by now！ It was going to be full。
And then Cramier said： 〃Put on that scarf thing； Olive； and come
round the garden with me。〃
Mrs。 Ercott admitted to herself now that what John said was true。
Just one gleam of eyes； turned quickly this way and that； as a bird
looks for escape； and then Olive had got up and quietly gone with
him down the path； till their silent figures were lost to sight。
Disturbed to the heart； Mrs。 Ercott rose and went over to her
husband's chair。 He was frowning； and staring at his evening shoe
balanced on a single toe。 He looked up at her and put out his
hand。 Mrs。 Ercott gave it a squeeze； she wanted comfort。
The Colonel spoke：
〃It's heavy to…night； Dolly。 I don't like the feel of it。〃
XVII
They had passed without a single word spoken； down through