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GypwasinthehabitofwalkingwithWintontotheKochbrunnen，where，withotherpatient-folk，hewasrequiredtodrinkslowlyfortwentyminuteseverymorning。Whilehewasimbibingshewouldsitinaremotecornerofthegarden，andreadanovelintheReclamedition，asadailyGermanlesson。
Shewassittingthere，themorningafterthe”at-home”attheBaronessvonMaisen’s，readingTurgenev’s”TorrentsofSpring，”
whenshesawCountRoseksaunteringdownthepathwithaglassofthewatersinhishand。InstantmemoryofthesmilewithwhichhehadintroducedFiorsenmadehertakecoverbeneathhersunshade。
Shecouldseehispatent-leatheredfeet，andwell-turned，peg-top-
trouseredlegsgobywiththegaitofamanwhosewaistiscorseted。Thecertaintythatheworethoseprerogativesofwomanhoodincreasedherdislike。Howdaremenbesoeffeminate？
Yetsomeonehadtoldherthathewasagoodrider，agoodfencer，andverystrong。Shedrewabreathofreliefwhenhewaspast，and，forfearhemightturnandcomeback，closedherlittlebookandslippedaway。Butherfigureandherspringingstepweremoreunmistakablethansheknew。
Nextmorning，onthesamebench，shewasreadingbreathlesslythescenebetweenGemmaandSaninatthewindow，whensheheardFiorsen’svoice，behindher，say:”MissWinton！”
He，too，heldaglassofthewatersinonehand，andhishatintheother。”Ihavejustmadeyourfather’sacquaintance。MayIsitdownaminute？”
Gypdrewtoonesideonthebench，andhesatdown。”Whatareyoureading？””Astorycalled’TorrentsofSpring。’””Ah，thefinesteverwritten！Whereareyou？””GemmaandSanininthethunderstorm。””Wait！YouhaveMadamePolozovtocome！Whatacreation！Howoldareyou，MissWinton？””Twenty-two。””YouwouldbetooyoungtoappreciatethatstoryifyouwerenotYOU。Butyouknowmuch——byinstinct。WhatisyourChristianname——
forgiveme！””Ghita。””Ghita？Notsoftenough。””IamalwayscalledGyp。””Gyp——ah，Gyp！Yes；Gyp！”
Herepeatedhernamesoimpersonallythatshecouldnotbeangry。”ItoldyourfatherIhavehadthepleasureofmeetingyou。Hewasverypolite。”
Gypsaidcoldly:”Myfatherisalwayspolite。””Liketheiceinwhichtheyputchampagne。”
Gypsmiled；shecouldnothelpit。
Andsuddenlyhesaid:”IsupposetheyhavetoldyouthatIamamauvaissujet。”Gypinclinedherhead。Helookedathersteadily，andsaid:”Itistrue。ButIcouldbebetter——much。”
Shewantedtolookathim，butcouldnot。Aqueersortofexultationhadseizedonher。Thismanhadpower；yetshehadpoweroverhim。Ifshewishedshecouldmakehimherslave，herdog，chainhimtoher。Shehadbuttoholdoutherhand，andhewouldgoonhiskneestokissit。Shehadbuttosay，”Come，”andhewouldcomefromwhereverhemightbe。Shehadbuttosay，”Begood，”andhewouldbegood。Itwasherfirstexperienceofpower；
anditwasintoxicating。But——but！Gypcouldneverbeself-
confidentforlong；overhermostvictoriousmomentsbroodedtheshadowofdistrust。Asifhereadherthought，Fiorsensaid:”Tellmetodosomething——anything；Iwilldoit，MissWinton。””Then——gobacktoLondonatonce。Youarewastingyourselfhere，youknow。Yousaidso！”
Helookedather，bewilderedandupset，andmuttered:”YouhaveaskedmetheonethingIcan’tdo，Miss——MissGyp！””Please——notthat；it’slikeaservant！””IAMyourservant！””Isthatwhyyouwon’tdowhatIaskyou？””Youarecruel。”
Gyplaughed。
Hegotupandsaid，withsuddenfierceness:”Iamnotgoingawayfromyou；donotthinkit。”Bendingwiththeutmostswiftness，hetookherhand，puthislipstoit，andturnedonhisheel。
Gyp，uneasyandastonished，staredatherhand，stilltinglingfromthepressureofhisbristlymoustache。Thenshelaughedagain——itwasjust”foreign”tohaveyourhandkissed——andwentbacktoherbook，withouttakinginthewords。
Wasevercourtshipmorestrangethanthatwhichfollowed？Itissaidthatthecatfascinatesthebirditdesirestoeat；herethebirdfascinatedthecat，butthebirdtoowasfascinated。Gypneverlostthesenseofhavingthewhip-hand，alwaysfeltlikeonegivingalms，orextendingfavour，yethadafeelingofbeingunabletogetaway，whichseemedtocomefromtheverystrengthofthespellshelaidonhim。Themagnetismwithwhichsheheldhimreactedonherself。Thoroughlyscepticalatfirst，shecouldnotremainso。Hewastooutterlymoroseandunhappyifshedidnotsmileonhim，tooaliveandexcitedandgratefulifshedid。Thechangeinhiseyesfromtheirordinaryrestless，fierce，andfurtiveexpressiontohumbleadorationorwistfulhungerwhentheylookedathercouldneverhavebeensimulated。Andshehadnolackofchancetoseethatmetamorphosis。Wherevershewent，therehewas。Iftoaconcert，hewouldbeafewpacesfromthedoor，waitingforherentrance。Iftoaconfectioner’sfortea，aslikelyasnothewouldcomein。Everyafternoonhewalkedwhereshemustpass，ridingtotheNeroberg。
ExceptinthegardensoftheKochbrunnen，whenhewouldcomeuphumblyandasktositwithherfiveminutes，heneverforcedhiscompany，ortriedinanywaytocompromiseher。Experience，nodoubt，servedhimthere；buthemusthavehadaninstinctthatitwasdangerouswithonesosensitive。Therewereothermoths，too，roundthatbrightcandle，andtheyservedtokeephisattentionsfrombeingtooconspicuous。Didshecomprehendwhatwasgoingon，understandhowherdefenceswerebeingsapped，graspthedangertoretreatthatlayinpermittinghimtohoverroundher？Notreally。
Itallservedtoswellthetriumphantintoxicationofdayswhenshewasevermoreandmoreinlovewithliving，moreandmoreconsciousthattheworldappreciatedandadmiredher，thatshehadpowertodowhatotherscouldn’t。
WasnotFiorsen，withhisgreattalent，andhisdubiousreputation，proofofthat？Andheexcitedher。Whateverelseonemightbeinhismoody，vividcompany，onewouldnotbedull。Onemorning，hetoldhersomethingofhislife。HisfatherhadbeenasmallSwedishlandowner，averystrongmanandaveryharddrinker；hismother，thedaughterofapainter。Shehadtaughthimtheviolin，butdiedwhilehewasstillaboy。Whenhewasseventeenhehadquarrelledwithhisfather，andhadtoplayhisviolinforalivinginthestreetsofStockholm。Awell-knownviolinist，hearinghimoneday，tookhiminhand。Thenhisfatherhaddrunkhimselftodeath，andhehadinheritedthelittleestate。Hehadsolditatonce——”forfollies，”asheputitcrudely。”Yes，MissWinton；I
havecommittedmanyfollies，buttheyarenothingtothoseIshallcommitthedayIdonotseeyouanymore！”And，withthatdisturbingremark，hegotupandlefther。Shehadsmiledathiswords，butwithinherselfshefeltexcitement，scepticism，compassion，andsomethingshedidnotunderstandatall。Inthosedays，sheunderstoodherselfverylittle。
ButhowfardidWintonunderstand，howfarseewhatwasgoingon？
Hewasastoic；butthatdidnotpreventjealousyfromtakingalarm，andcausinghimtwingesmoreacutethanthosehestillfeltinhisleftfoot。Hewasafraidofshowingdisquietbyanydramaticchange，orhewouldhavecarriedheroffafortnightatleastbeforehiscurewasover。Heknewtoowellthesignsofpassion。Thatlong，loping，wolfishfiddlingfellowwiththebroadcheekbonesandlittleside-whiskersGoodGod！andgreenisheyeswhoselooksatGyphesecretlymarkeddown，rousedhiscompletedistrust。PerhapshisinbredEnglishcontemptforforeignersandartistskepthimfromdirectaction。HeCOULDnottakeitquiteseriously。Gyp，hisfastidiousperfectGyp，succumbing，evenalittletoafellowlikethat！Never！Hisjealousaffection，too，couldnotadmitthatshewouldneglecttoconsulthiminanydoubtordifficulty。Heforgotthesensitivesecrecyofgirls，forgotthathisloveforherhadevershunnedwords，herloveforhimneverindulgedinconfidences。Nordidheseemorethanalittleofwhattherewastosee，andthatlittlewasdoctoredbyFiorsenforhiseyes，shrewdthoughtheywere。Norwasthereinallsoverymuch，exceptoneepisodethedaybeforetheyleft，andofthatheknewnothing。
Thatlastafternoonwasverystill，alittlemournful。Ithadrainedthenightbefore，andthesoakedtree-trunks，thesoakedfallenleavesgaveoffafaintliquorice-likeperfume。InGyptherewasafeeling，asifherspirithadbeensuddenlyemptiedofexcitementanddelight。Wasittheday，orthethoughtofleavingthisplacewhereshehadsoenjoyedherself？Afterlunch，whenWintonwassettlinghisaccounts，shewanderedoutthroughthelongparkstretchingupthevalley。Theskywasbrooding-grey，thetreeswerestillandmelancholy。Itwasallalittlemelancholy，andshewentonandon，acrossthestream，roundintoamuddylanethatledupthroughtheoutskirtsofavillage，ontothehighergroundwhenceshecouldreturnbythemainroad。Whymustthingscometoanend？Forthefirsttimeinherlife，shethoughtofMildenhamandhuntingwithoutenthusiasm。ShewouldratherstayinLondon。Thereshewouldnotbecutofffrommusic，fromdancing，frompeople，andalltheexhilarationofbeingappreciated。Ontheaircametheshrilly，hollowdroningofathresher，andthesoundseemedexactlytoexpressherfeelings。Apigeonflewover，whiteagainsttheleadensky；somebirch-treesthathadgonegoldenshiveredandletfallashowerofdrops。Itwaslonelyhere！And，suddenly，twolittleboysboltedoutofthehedge，nearlyupsettingher，andscurrieddowntheroad。Somethinghadstartledthem。
Gyp，puttingupherfacetosee，feltonitsoftpin-pointsofrain。Herfrockwouldbespoiled，anditwasoneshewasfondof——
dove-coloured，velvety，notmeantforweather。Sheturnedforrefugetothebirch-trees。Itwouldbeoverdirectly，perhaps。
Muffledindistance，thewhiningdroneofthatthresherstillcametravelling，deepeningherdiscomfort。Theninthehedge，whencetheboyshadbolteddown，amanrearedhimselfabovethelane，andcamestridingalongtowardher。Hejumpeddownthebank，amongthebirch-trees。AndshesawitwasFiorsen——panting，dishevelled，palewithheat。Hemusthavefollowedher，andclimbedstraightupthehillsidefromthepathshehadcomealonginthebottom，beforecrossingthestream。Hisartisticdandyismhadbeenharshlytreatedbythatscramble。Shemighthavelaughed；but，instead，shefeltexcited，alittlescaredbythelookonhishot，paleface。Hesaid，breathlessly:”Ihavecaughtyou。Soyouaregoingto-morrow，andnevertoldme！
Youthoughtyouwouldslipaway——notawordforme！Areyoualwayssocruel？Well，Iwillnotspareyou，either！”
Crouchingsuddenly，hetookholdofherbroadribbonsash，andburiedhisfaceinit。Gypstoodtrembling——theactionhadnotstirredhersenseoftheridiculous。Hecircledherkneeswithhisarms。”Oh，Gyp，Iloveyou——Iloveyou——don’tsendmeaway——letmebewithyou！Iamyourdog——yourslave。Oh，Gyp，Iloveyou！”
Hisvoicemovedandterrifiedher。Menhadsaid”Iloveyou”
severaltimesduringthoselasttwoyears，butneverwiththatlost-soulringofpassion，neverwiththatlookintheeyesatoncefiercelyhungryandsosupplicating，neverwiththatrestless，eager，timidtouchofhands。Shecouldonlymurmur:”Pleasegetup！”
Buthewenton:”Lovemealittle，onlyalittle——loveme！Oh，Gyp！”
ThethoughtflashedthroughGyp:’Tohowmanyhasheknelt，I
wonder？’Hisfacehadakindofbeautyinitsabandonment——thebeautythatcomesfromyearning——andshelostherfrightenedfeeling。Hewenton，withhisstammeringmurmur:”Iamaprodigal，Iknow；butifyouloveme，Iwillnolongerbe。Iwilldogreatthingsforyou。Oh，Gyp，ifyouwillsomedaymarryme！Notnow。
WhenIhaveproved。Oh，Gyp，youaresosweet——sowonderful！”
Hisarmscreptuptillhehadburiedhisfaceagainstherwaist。
Withoutquiteknowingwhatshedid，Gyptouchedhishair，andsaidagain:”No；pleasegetup。”
Hegotupthen，andstandingnear，withhishandshardclenchedathissides，whispered:”Havemercy！Speaktome！”
Shecouldnot。Allwasstrangeandmazedandquiveringinher，herspiritstrainingaway，drawntohim，fantasticallyconfused。Shecouldonlylookintohisfacewithhertroubled，darkeyes。Andsuddenlyshewasseizedandcrushedtohim。Sheshrankaway，pushinghimbackwithallherstrength。Hehunghishead，abashed，suffering，witheyesshut，lipstrembling；andherheartfeltagainthatquiverofcompassion。Shemurmured:”Idon’tknow。Iwilltellyoulater——later——inEngland。”
Hebowed，foldinghisarms，asiftomakeherfeelsafefromhim。
Andwhen，regardlessoftherain，shebegantomoveon，hewalkedbesideher，ayardorsoaway，humbly，asthoughhehadneverpouredoutthosewordsorhurtherlipswiththeviolenceofhiskiss。
Backinherroom，takingoffherwetdress，Gyptriedtorememberwhathehadsaidandwhatshehadanswered。Shehadnotpromisedanything。Butshehadgivenhimheraddress，bothinLondonandthecountry。Unlesssheresolutelythoughtofotherthings，shestillfelttherestlesstouchofhishands，thegripofhisarms，andsawhiseyesastheywerewhenhewaskissingher；andoncemoreshefeltfrightenedandexcited。
Hewasplayingattheconcertthatevening——herlastconcert。Andsurelyhehadneverplayedlikethat——withadespairingbeauty，asortoffrenziedrapture。Listening，therecametoherafeeling——
afeelingoffatality——that，whethershewouldorno，shecouldnotfreeherselffromhim。
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OncebackinEngland，Gyplostthatfeeling，orverynearly。HerscepticismtoldherthatFiorsenwouldsoonseesomeoneelsewhoseemedallhehadsaidshewas！Howridiculoustosupposethathewouldstophisfolliesforher，thatshehadanyrealpoweroverhim！But，deepdown，shedidnotquitebelievethis。Itwouldhavewoundedherbeliefinherselftoomuch——abeliefsosubtleandintimatethatshewasnotconsciousofit；beliefinthatsomethingaboutherwhichhadinspiredthebaronesstousetheword”fatality。”
Winton，whobreathedagain，hurriedherofftoMildenham。Hehadboughtheranewhorse。Theywereintimeforthelastofthecubbing。And，foraweekatleast，thepassionforridingandthesightofhoundscarriedallbeforeit。Then，justastherealbusinessoftheseasonwasbeginning，shebegantofeeldullandrestless。Mildenhamwasdark；theautumnwindsmadedrearynoises。
Herlittlebrownspaniel，veryold，whoseemedonlytohaveheldontolifejustforherreturn，died。Sheaccusedherselfterriblyforhavingleftitsolongwhenitwasfailing。ThinkingofallthedaysLasshadbeenwatchingforhertocomehome——asBetty，withthatloveofwoefulrecitalsodeartosimplehearts，tookgoodcaretomakeplain——shefeltasifshehadbeencruel。Foreventssuchasthese，Gypwasbothtootender-heartedandtoohardonherself。Shewasquiteillforseveraldays。Themomentshewasbetter，Winton，indismay，whiskedherbacktoAuntRosamund，intown。Hewouldlosehercompany，butifitdidhergood，tookheroutofherself，hewouldbecontent。Runningupfortheweek-
end，threedayslater，hewasrelievedtofindherdecidedlyperked-up，andleftheragainwiththeeasierheart。
ItwasonthedayafterhewentbacktoMildenhamthatshereceivedaletterfromFiorsen，forwardedfromBuryStreet。Hewas——itsaid——justreturningtoLondon；hehadnotforgottenanylookshehadevergivenhim，oranywordshehadspoken。Heshouldnotresttillhecouldseeheragain。”Foralongtime，”theletterended，”beforeIfirstsawyou，Iwaslikethedead——lost。Allwasbitterapplestome。NowIamashipthatcomesfromthewhirlpoolstoawarmbluesea；nowIseeagaintheeveningstar。Ikissyourhands，andamyourfaithfulslave——GustavFiorsen。”Thesewords，whichfromanyothermanwouldhaveexcitedherderision，renewedinGypthatflutteredfeeling，thepleasurable，frightenedsensethatshecouldnotgetawayfromhispursuit。
ShewroteinanswertotheaddresshegaveherinLondon，tosaythatshewasstayingforafewdaysinCurzonStreetwithheraunt，whowouldbegladtoseehimifhecaredtocomeinanyafternoonbetweenfiveandsix，andsignedherself”GhitaWinton。”Shewaslongoverthatlittlenote。Itscurtformalitygavehersatisfaction。Wasshereallymistressofherself——andhim；abletodisposeasshewished？Yes；andsurelythenoteshowedit。
ItwasnevereasytotellGyp’sfeelingsfromherface；evenWintonwasoftenbaffled。HerpreparationofAuntRosamundforthereceptionofFiorsenwasamasterpieceofcasualness。Whenhedulycame，he，too，seemeddoublyalivetotheneedforcaution，onlygazingatGypwhenhecouldnotbeseendoingso。But，goingout，hewhispered:”Notlikethis——notlikethis；Imustseeyoualone——
Imust！”Shesmiledandshookherhead。Butbubbleshadcomebacktothewineinhercup。
ThateveningshesaidquietlytoAuntRosamund:”Daddoesn’tlikeMr。Fiorsen——can’tappreciatehisplaying，ofcourse。”
AndthismostdiscreetremarkcausedAuntRosamund，avid——inawell-bredway——ofmusic，toomitmentionoftheintruderwhenwritingtoherbrother。Thenexttwoweekshecamealmosteveryday，alwaysbringinghisviolin，Gypplayinghisaccompaniments，andthoughhishungrystaresometimesmadeherfeelhot，shewouldhavemissedit。
ButwhenWintonnextcameuptoBuryStreet，shewasinaquandary。
ToconfessthatFiorsenwashere，havingomittedtospeakofhiminherletters？Nottoconfess，andleavehimtofinditoutfromAuntRosamund？Whichwasworse？Seizedwithpanic，shedidneither，buttoldherfathershewasdyingforagallop。Hailingthatasthebestofsigns，hetookherforthwithbacktoMildenham。
Andcuriouswereherfeelings——light-hearted，compunctious，asofonewhoescapesyetknowsshewillsoonbeseekingtoreturn。Themeetwasratherfarnextday，butsheinsistedonridingtoit，sinceoldPettance，thesuperannuatedjockey，charitablyemployedasextrastablehelpatMildenham，wastobringonhersecondhorse。Therewasagoodscenting-wind，withrainintheoffing，andoutsidethecoverttheyhadacornertothemselves——Wintonknowingatrickworthtwoofthefield’sat-large。Theyhadslippedthere，luckilyunseen，fortheknowingweregiventofollowingtheone-handedhorsemaninfadedpink，who，onhisbang-
tailedblackmare，hadaknackofgettingsowellaway。Oneofthewhips，alittledarkfellowwithsmoulderyeyesandsucked-inweatheredcheeks，dashedoutofcovert，rodepast，saluting，anddashedinagain。Ajaycameoutwithascreech，dived，anddoubledback；aharemadeoffacrossthefallow——thelight-brownloppingcreaturewasbarelyvisibleagainstthebrownishsoil。Pigeons，veryhighup，flewoverandawaytothenextwood。Theshrillingvoicesofthewhipsrosefromthecovert-depths，andjustawhimpernowandthenfromthehounds，swiftlywheelingtheirnosesamongthefernandbriers。
Gyp，crispingherfingersonthereins，drew-indeepbreaths。Itsmelledsosweetandsoftandfreshunderthatsky，piedofblue，andofwhiteandlight-greyswift-movingclouds——nothalfthewinddownherethattherewasupthere，justenoughtobecarryingoffthebeechandoakleaves，loosenedbyfrosttwodaysbefore。Ifonlyafoxwouldbreakthisside，andtheycouldhavethefirstfieldstothemselves！Itwassolovelytobealonewithhounds！
Oneofthesecametrottingout，aprettyyoungcreature，busyandunconcerned，raisingitstan-and-whitehead，itsmildreproachfuldeep-browneyes，atWinton’s，”Loo-inTrix！”Whatadarling！A
burstofmusicfromthecovert，andthedarlingvanishedamongthebriers。
Gyp’snewbrownhorseprickeditsears。Ayoungmaninagreycutaway，buffcords，andjack-boots，onalowchestnutmare，cameslippingroundthecovert。Oh——didthatmeantheywereallcoming？
Impatientlysheglancedatthisintruder，whoraisedhishatalittleandsmiled。Thatsmile，faintlyimpudent，wassoinfectious，thatGypwasmeltedtoaslightresponse。Thenshefrowned。Hehadspoiledtheirlovelyloneliness。Whowashe？Helookedunpardonablysereneandhappysittingthere。Shedidnotrememberhisfaceatall，yettherewassomethingfamiliaraboutit。Hehadtakenhishatoff——abroadface，verywellcut，andclean-shaved，withdarkcurlyhair，extraordinarycleareyes，abold，cool，merrylook。Wherehadsheseensomebodylikehim？
AtinysoundfromWintonmadeherturnherhead。Thefox——stealingoutbeyondthosefurtherbushes！Breathless，shefixedhereyesonherfather’sface。Itwashardassteel，watching。Notasound，notaquiver，asifhorseandmanhadturnedtometal。Washenevergoingtogivetheview-halloo？Thenhislipswrithed，andoutitcame。Gypcastaswiftsmileofgratitudeattheyoungmanforhavinghadtasteandsensetoleavethattoherfather，andagainhesmiledather。Therewerethefirsthoundsstreamingout——
oneontheother——musicandfeather！Whydidn’tDadgo？Theywouldallberoundthiswayinaminute！
Thentheblackmareslidpasther，and，withabound，herhorsefollowed。Theyoungmanonthechestnutwasawayontheleft。
Onlythehunts-manandonewhip——besidetheirthreeselves！
Glorious！ThebrownhorsewenttoofastatthatfirstfenceandWintoncalledback:”Steady，Gyp！Steadyhim！”Butshecouldn’t；
anditdidn’tmatter。Grass，threefieldsofgrass！Oh，whatalovelyfox——goingsostraight！Andeachtimethebrownhorserose，shethought:”Perfect！ICANride！Oh，Iamhappy！”Andshehopedherfatherandtheyoungmanwerelooking。Therewasnofeelingintheworldlikethis，withaleaderlikeDad，houndsmovingfree，goodgoing，andthefielddistanced。Betterthandancing；better——yes，betterthanlisteningtomusic。Ifonecouldspendone’slifegalloping，sailingoverfences；ifitwouldneverstop！Thenewhorsewasadarling，thoughheDIDpull。
Shecrossedthenextfencelevelwiththeyoungman，whoselowchestnutmaremovedwithastealthyaction。Hishatwascrammeddownnow，andhisfaceverydetermined，buthislipsstillhadsomethingofthatsmile。Gypthought:”He’sgotagoodseat——verystrong，onlyhelookslike’thrusting。’NobodyrideslikeDad——sobeautifullyquiet！”Indeed，Winton’sseatonahorsewasperfection，alldonewithsuchaminimumexpenditure。Thehoundsswungroundinacurve。Nowshewaswiththem，reallywiththem！
Whatapace——cracking！Nofoxcouldstandthislong！
Andsuddenlyshecaughtsightofhim，barelyafieldahead，scurryingdesperately，brushdown；andthethoughtflashedthroughher:’Oh！don’tlet’scatchyou。Goon，fox；goon！Getaway！’
Weretheyreallyallafterthatlittlehuntedredthing——ahundredgreatcreatures，horsesandmenandwomenanddogs，andonlythatonelittlefox！Butthencameanotherfence，andquicklyanother，andshelostfeelingsofshameandpityintheexultationofflyingoverthem。Aminutelaterthefoxwenttoearthwithinafewhundredyardsoftheleadinghound，andshewasglad。Shehadbeeninatdeathsbefore——horrid！Butithadbeenalovelygallop。
And，breathless，smilingrapturously，shewonderedwhethershecouldmopherfacebeforethefieldcameup，withoutthatyoungmannoticing。
Shecouldseehimtalkingtoherfather，andtakingoutawispofahandkerchiefthatsmelledofcyclamen，shehadagoodscrubround。
Whensherodeup，theyoungmanraisedhishat，andlookingfullathersaid:”Youdidgo！”Hisvoice，ratherhigh-pitched，hadinitaspiceofpleasantlaziness。Gypmadehimanironicallittlebow，andmurmured:”Mynewhorse，youmean。”Hebrokeagainintothatirrepressiblesmile，but，allthesame，sheknewthatheadmiredher。Andshekeptthinking:’WhereHAVEIseensomeonelikehim？’
Theyhadtwomoreruns，butnothinglikethatfirstgallop。Nordidsheagainseetheyoungman，whosename——itseemed——wasSummerhay，sonofacertainLadySummerhayatWidrington，tenmilesfromMildenham。
Allthatlong，silentjoghomewithWintoninfadingdaylight，shefeltveryhappy——saturatedwithairandelation。Thetreesandfields，thehay-stacks，gates，andpondsbesidethelanesgrewdim；
lightscameupinthecottagewindows；theairsmelledsweetofwoodsmoke。And，forthefirsttimeallday，shethoughtofFiorsen，thoughtofhimalmostlongingly。Ifhecouldbethereinthecosyolddrawing-room，toplaytoherwhileshelayback——
drowsing，dreamingbythefireinthescentofburningcedarlogs——
theMozartminuet，orthatlittleheart-catchingtuneofPoise，playedthefirsttimesheheardhim，oradozenotherofthethingsheplayedunaccompanied！Thatwouldbethemostlovelyendingtothislovelyday。Justtheglowandwarmthwanting，tomakeallperfect——theglowandwarmthofmusicandadoration！
Andtouchingthemarewithherheel，shesighed。ToindulgefanciesaboutmusicandFiorsenwassafehere，farawayfromhim；
sheeventhoughtshewouldnotmindifheweretobehaveagainashehadunderthebirch-treesintherainatWiesbaden。Itwassogoodtobeadored。Heroldmare，riddennowsixyears，begantheseriesofcontentedsnufflesthatsignifiedshesmelthome。Herewasthelastturn，andtheloomoftheshortbeech-treeavenuetothehouse——theoldmanor-house，comfortable，roomy，ratherdark，withwideshallowstairs。Ah，shewastired；anditwasdrizzlingnow。Shewouldbenicelystiffto-morrow。InthelightcomingfromtheopendoorshesawMarkeystanding；andwhilefishingfromherpockettheusuallumpsofsugar，heardhimsay:”Mr。Fiorsen，sir——gentlemanfromWiesbaden——toseeyou。”
Herheartthumped。Whatdidthismean？Whyhadhecome？Howhadhedared？Howcouldhehavebeensotreacheroustoher？Ah，buthewasignorant，ofcourse，thatshehadnottoldherfather。A
veritablejudgmentonher！Sheranstraightinandupthestairs。
ThevoiceofBetty，”Yourbath’sready，MissGyp，”rousedher。Andcrying，”Oh，Bettydarling，bringmeupmytea！”sheranintothebathroom。Shewassafethere；andinthedeliciousheatofthebathfacedthesituationbetter。
Therecouldbeonlyonemeaning。Hehadcometoaskforher。And，suddenly，shetookcomfort。Betterso；therewouldbenomoresecrecyfromDad！AndhewouldstandbetweenherandFiorsenif——
ifshedecidednottomarryhim。Thethoughtstaggeredher。Hadshe，withoutknowingit，gotsofarasthis？Yes，andfurther。Itwasallnogood；Fiorsenwouldneveracceptrefusal，evenifshegaveit！But，didshewanttorefuse？
Shelovedhotbaths，buthadneverstayedinonesolong。Lifewassoeasythere，andsodifficultoutside。Betty’sknockforcedhertogetoutatlast，andletherinwithteaandthemessage。WouldMissGyppleasetogodownwhenshewasready？
VI
Wintonwasstaggered。WithaglanceatGyp’svanishingfigure，hesaidcurtlytoMarkey，”Wherehaveyouputthisgentleman？”Buttheuseoftheword”this”wastheonlytraceheshowedofhisemotions。Inthatlittlejourneyacrossthehallheentertainedmanyextravagantthoughts。Arrivedatthestudy，heinclinedhisheadcourteouslyenough，waitingforFiorsentospeak。The”fiddler，”stillinhisfur-linedcoat，wastwistingasquashhatinhishands。Inhisownpeculiarstylehewasimpressive。Butwhycouldn’thelookyouintheface；or，ifhedid，whydidheseemabouttoeatyou？”YouknewIwasreturnedtoLondon，MajorWinton？”
ThenGyphadbeenseeingthefellowwithoutlettinghimknow！ThethoughtwaschillandbittertoWinton。Hemustnotgiveheraway，however，andhesimplybowed。Hefeltthathisvisitorwasafraidofhisfrigidcourtesy；andhedidnotmeantohelphimoverthatfear。Hecouldnot，ofcourse，realizethatthisascendancywouldnotpreventFiorsenfromlaughingathimbehindhisbackandactingasifhedidnotexist。Norealcontest，infact，waspossiblebetweenmenmovingonsuchdifferentplanes，neitherhavingtheslightestrespectfortheother’sstandardsorbeliefs。
Fiorsen，whohadbeguntopacetheroom，stopped，andsaidwithagitation:”MajorWinton，yourdaughteristhemostbeautifulthingonearth。
Iloveherdesperately。Iamamanwithafuture，thoughyoumaynotthinkit。IhavewhatfutureIlikeinmyartifonlyIcanmarryher。Ihavealittlemoney，too——notmuch；butinmyviolinthereisallthefortuneshecanwant。”
Winton’sfaceexpressednothingbutcoldcontempt。Thatthisfellowshouldtakehimforonewhowouldconsidermoneyinconnectionwithhisdaughtersimplyaffrontedhim。
Fiorsenwenton:”Youdonotlikeme——thatisclear。Isawitthefirstmoment。
YouareanEnglishgentleman”——hepronouncedthewordswithasortofirony——”Iamnothingtoyou。Yet，inMYworld，Iamsomething。
Iamnotanadventurer。Willyoupermitmetobegyourdaughtertobemywife？”Heraisedhishandsthatstillheldthehat；
involuntarilytheyhadassumedtheattitudeofprayer。
Forasecond，Wintonrealizedthathewassuffering。Thatweaknesswentinaflash，andhesaidfrigidly:”Iamobligedtoyou，sir，forcomingtomefirst。Youareinmyhouse，andIdon’twanttobediscourteous，butIshouldbegladifyouwouldbegoodenoughtowithdrawandtakeitthatIshallcertainlyopposeyourwishasbestIcan。”
ThealmostchildishdisappointmentandtroubleinFiorsen’sfacechangedquicklytoanexpressionfierce，furtive，mocking；andthenshiftedtodespair。”MajorWinton，youhaveloved；youmusthavelovedhermother。I
suffer！”
Winton，whohadturnedabruptlytothefire，facedroundagain。”Idon’tcontrolmydaughter’saffections，sir；shewilldoasshewishes。Imerelysayitwillbeagainstmyhopesandjudgmentifshemarriesyou。Iimagineyou’venotaltogetherwaitedformyleave。IwasnotblindtothewayyouhungaboutheratWiesbaden，Mr。Fiorsen。”
Fiorsenansweredwithatwisted，miserablesmile:”Poorwretchesdowhattheycan。MayIseeher？Letmejustseeher。”
Wasitanygoodtorefuse？Shehadbeenseeingthefellowalreadywithouthisknowledge，keepingfromhim——HIM——allherfeelings，whatevertheywere。Andhesaid:”I’llsendforher。Inthemeantime，perhapsyou’llhavesomerefreshment？”
Fiorsenshookhishead，andtherefollowedhalfanhourofacutediscomfort。Winton，inhismud-stainedclothesbeforethefire，supporteditbetterthanhisvisitor。Thatchildofnature，afterendeavouringtoemulatehishost’squietude，renouncedallsucheffortswithanexpressivegesture，fidgetedhere，fidgetedthere，trampedtheroom，wenttothewindow，drewasidethecurtainsandstaredoutintothedark；camebackasifresolvedagaintoconfrontWinton；then，baffledbythatfiguresomotionlessbeforethefire，flunghimselfdowninanarmchair，andturnedhisfacetothewall。Wintonwasnotcruelbynature，butheenjoyedthewrithingsofthisfellowwhowasendangeringGyp’shappiness。
Endangering？Surelynotpossiblethatshewouldaccepthim！Yet，ifnot，whyhadshenottoldhim？Andhe，too，suffered。
Thenshecame。Hehadexpectedhertobepaleandnervous；butGypneveradmittedbeingnaughtytillshehadbeenforgiven。Hersmilingfacehadinitakindofwarningcloseness。ShewentuptoFiorsen，andholdingoutherhand，saidcalmly:”Howniceofyoutocome！”
Wintonhadthebitterfeelingthathe——he——wastheoutsider。Well，hewouldspeakplainly；therehadbeentoomuchunderhanddoing。”Mr。Fiorsenhasdoneusthehonourtowishtomarryyou。I’vetoldhimthatyoudecidesuchthingsforyourself。Ifyouaccepthim，itwillbeagainstmywish，naturally。”
Whilehewasspeaking，theglowinhercheeksdeepened；shelookedneitherathimnoratFiorsen。Wintonnotedtheriseandfallofthelaceonherbreast。Shewassmiling，andgavethetiniestshrugofhershoulders。And，suddenlysmittentotheheart，hewalkedstifflytothedoor。Itwasevidentthatshehadnouseforhisguidance。Ifherloveforhimwasnotworthtohermorethanthisfellow！Buttherehisresentmentstopped。Heknewthathecouldnotaffordwoundedfeelings；couldnotgetonwithouther。
Marriedtothegreatestrascalonearth，hewouldstillbestandingbyher，wantinghercompanionshipandlove。Sherepresentedtoomuchinthepresentand——thepast。Withsoreheart，indeed，hewentdowntodinner。
Fiorsenwasgonewhenhecamedownagain。Whatthefellowhadsaid，orshehadanswered，hewouldnotfortheworldhaveasked。
Gulfsbetweentheproudarenotlightlybridged。Andwhenshecameuptosaygood-night，boththeirfaceswereasthoughcoatedwithwax。
Inthedaysthatfollowed，shegavenosign，utterednowordinanywaysuggestingthatshemeanttogoagainsthiswishes。Fiorsenmightnothaveexisted，foranymentionmadeofhim。ButWintonknewwellthatshewasmoping，andcherishingsomefeelingagainsthimself。Andthishecouldnotbear。So，oneevening，afterdinner，hesaidquietly:”Tellmefrankly，Gyp；doyoucareforthatchap？”
Sheansweredasquietly:”Inaway——yes。””Isthatenough？””Idon’tknow，Dad。”
Herlipshadquivered；andWinton’sheartsoftened，asitalwaysdidwhenhesawhermoved。Heputhishandout，coveredoneofhers，andsaid:”Ishallneverstandinthewayofyourhappiness，Gyp。ButitmustBEhappiness。Canitpossiblybethat？Idon’tthinkso。
Youknowwhattheysaidofhimoutthere？””Yes。”
Hehadnotthoughtsheknew。Andhisheartsank。”That’sprettybad，youknow。Andisheofourworldatall？”
Gyplookedup。”DoyouthinkIbelongto’ourworld，’Dad？”
Wintonturnedaway。Shefollowed，slippingherhandunderhisarm。”Ididn’tmeantohurt。Butit’strue，isn’tit？Idon’tbelongamongsocietypeople。Theywouldn’thaveme，youknow——iftheyknewaboutwhatyoutoldme。EversincethatI’vefeltIdon’tbelongtothem。I’mnearerhim。Musicmeansmoretomethananything！”
Wintongaveherhandaconvulsivegrip。Asenseofcomingdefeatandbereavementwasonhim。”Ifyourhappinesswentwrong，Gyp，Ishouldbemostawfullycutup。””Butwhyshouldn’tIbehappy，Dad？””Ifyouwere，Icouldputupwithanyone。But，Itellyou，Ican’tbelieveyouwouldbe。Ibegyou，mydear——forGod’ssake，makesure。I’llputabulletintothemanwhotreatsyoubadly。”
Gyplaughed，thenkissedhim。Buttheyweresilent。Atbedtimehesaid:”We’llgouptotownto-morrow。”
Whetherfromafeelingoftheinevitable，orfromtheforlornhopethatseeingmoreofthefellowmightbetheonlychanceofcuringher——heputnomoreobstaclesintheway。
Andthequeercourtshipbeganagain。ByChristmasshehadconsented，stillundertheimpressionthatshewasthemistress，nottheslave——thecat，notthebird。Onceortwice，whenFiorsenletpassionoutofhandandhisoverboldcaressesaffrontedher，sherecoiledalmostwithdreadfromwhatshewasgoingtoward。
But，ingeneral，shelivedelated，intoxicatedbymusicandhisadoration，withalremorsefulthatshewasmakingherfathersad。
ShewasbutlittleatMildenham，andhe，inhisunhappiness，wastherenearlyallthetime，ridingextrahard，andleavingGypwithhissister。AuntRosamund，thoughunderthespellofFiorsen’smusic，hadagreedwithherbrotherthatFiorsenwas”impossible。”
ButnothingshesaidmadeanyeffectonGyp。Itwasnewandstartlingtodiscoverinthissoft，sensitivegirlsuchaveinofstubbornness。Oppositionseemedtohardenherresolution。Andthegoodlady’snaturaloptimismbegantopersuadeherthatGypwouldmakeasilkpurseoutofthatsow’searyet。Afterall，themanwasacelebrityinhisway！
ItwassettledforFebruary。AhousewithagardenwastakeninSt。John’sWood。Thelastmonthwent，asallsuchlastmonthsgo，inthoseintoxicatingpastimes，thebuyingoffurnitureandclothes。Ifitwerenotforthat，whoknowshowmanyengagementknotswouldslip！
Andto-daytheyhadbeenmarried。Tothelast，Wintonhadhardlybelieveditwouldcometothat。Hehadshakenthehandofherhusbandandkeptpainanddisappointmentoutofhisface，knowingwellthathedeceivednoone。Thankheaven，therehadbeennochurch，nowedding-cake，invitations，congratulations，fal-lalsofanykind——hecouldneverhavestoodthem。NotevenRosamund——whohadinfluenza——toputupwith！
Lyingbackintherecessesofthatoldchair，hestaredintothefire。
TheywouldbejustaboutatTorquaybynow——justabout。Music！
Whowouldhavethoughtnoisesmadeoutofstringandwoodcouldhavestolenherawayfromhim？Yes，theywouldbeatTorquaybynow，attheirhotel。AndthefirstprayerWintonhadutteredforyearsescapedhislips:”Letherbehappy！Letherbehappy！”
Then，hearingMarkeyopenthedoor，heclosedhiseyesandfeignedsleep。
PartII
I
Whenagirlfirstsitsoppositethemanshehasmarried，ofwhatdoesshethink？Notoftheissuesandemotionsthatlieinwait。
Theyaretoooverwhelming；shewouldavoidthemwhileshecan。Gypthoughtofherfrock，amushroom-colouredvelvetcord。Notmanygirlsofherclassaremarriedwithout”fal-lals，”asWintonhadcalledthem。Notmanygirlssitinthecorneroftheirreservedfirst-classcompartmentswithouttheexcitementofhavingbeensupremecentreoftheworldforsomeflatteringhourstobuoythemuponthattrainjourney，withnomemoriesoffriends’behaviour，speech，appearance，tochatofwithherhusband，soastokeepthoughtaway。ForGyp，herdress，firstwornthatday，Betty’sbreakdown，thefaces，blankashats，oftheregistrarandclerk，wereaboutallshehadtodistracther。Shestolealookatherhusband，clothedinblueserge，justopposite。Herhusband！Mrs。
GustavFiorsen！No！Peoplemightcallherthat；toherself，shewasGhitaWinton。GhitaFiorsenwouldneverseemright。And，notconfessingthatshewasafraidtomeethiseyes，butafraidallthesame，shelookedoutofthewindow。Adull，bleak，dismalday；nowarmth，nosun，nomusicinit——theThamesasgreyaslead，thewillowsonitsbanksforlorn。
Suddenlyshefelthishandonhers。Shehadnotseenhisfacelikethatbefore——yes；onceortwicewhenhewasplaying——aspiritshiningthough。Shefeltsuddenlysecure。Ifitstayedlikethat，then！——Hishandrestedonherknee；hisfacechangedjustalittle；
thespiritseemedtowaver，tobefading；hislipsgrewfuller。Hecrossedoverandsatbesideher。Instantlyshebegantotalkabouttheirhouse，wheretheyweregoingtoputcertainthings——presentsandallthat。He，too，talkedofthehouse；buteverynowandthenheglancedatthecorridor，andmuttered。Itwaspleasanttofeelthatthethoughtofherpossessedhimthroughandthrough，butshewastremulouslygladofthatcorridor。Lifeismercifullymadeupoflittlethings！AndGypwasalwaysabletoliveinthemoment。
Inthehourstheyhadspenttogether，uptonow，hehadbeenlikeastarvedmansnatchinghastymeals；nowthathehadhertohimselfforgood，hewasanothercreaturealtogether——likeaboyoutofschool，andkeptherlaughingnearlyallthetime。
Presentlyhegotdownhispractiseviolin，andputtingonthemute，played，lookingatheroverhisshoulderwithadrollsmile。Shefelthappy，muchwarmeratheart，now。Andwhenhisfacewasturnedaway，shelookedathim。Hewassomuchbetterlookingnowthanwhenhehadthoselittlewhiskers。Onedayshehadtouchedoneofthemandsaid:”Ah！ifonlythesewingscouldfly！”Nextmorningtheyhadflown。Hisfacewasnotonetobeeasilygotusedto；shewasnotusedtoityet，anymorethanshewasusedtohistouch。Whenitgrewdark，andhewantedtodrawdowntheblinds，shecaughthimbythesleeve，andsaid:”No，no；they’llknowwe’rehoneymooners！””Well，myGyp，andarewenot？”
Butheobeyed；only，asthehourswenton，hiseyesseemednevertoletheralone。
AtTorquay，theskywasclearandstarry；thewindbroughtwhiffsofsea-scentintotheircab；lightswinkedfaroutonaheadland；
andinthelittleharbour，allbluishdark，manylittleboatsfloatedliketamebirds。Hehadputhisarmroundher，andshecouldfeelhishandrestingonherheart。Shewasgratefulthathekeptsostill。Whenthecabstoppedandtheyenteredthehallofthehotel，shewhispered:”Don’tlet’sletthemsee！”
Still，mercifully，littlethings！Inspectingthethreerooms，gettingtheluggagedividedbetweendressing-roomandbedroom，unpacking，wonderingwhichdresstoputonfordinner，stoppingtolookoutoverthedarkrocksandthesea，wherethemoonwascomingup，wonderingifshedaredlockthedoorwhileshewasdressing，decidingthatitwouldbesilly；dressingsoquickly，flutteringwhenshefoundhimsuddenlythereclosebehindher，beginningtodoupherhooks。Thosefingersweretooskilful！Itwasthefirsttimeshehadthoughtofhispastwithasortofhurtprideandfastidiousness。Whenhehadfinished，hetwistedherround，heldheraway，lookedatherfromheadtofoot，andsaidbelowhisbreath:”Mine！”
Herheartbeatfastthen；butsuddenlyhelaughed，slippedhisarmabouther，anddancedhertwiceroundtheroom。Helethergodemurelydownthestairsinfrontofhim，saying:”Theyshan’tsee——myGyp。Oh，theyshan’tsee！Weareoldmarriedpeople，tiredofeachother——very！”
Atdinneritamusedhimatfirst——hertoo，alittle——tokeepupthisfarceofindifference。Buteverynowandthenheturnedandstaredatsomeinoffensivevisitorwhowastakinginterestinthem，withsuchfierceandgenuinecontemptthatGyptookalarm；whereonhelaughed。Whenshehaddrunkalittlewineandhehaddrunkagooddeal，thefarceofindifferencecametoitsend。Hetalkedatagreatratenow，slyingnicknamingthewaitersandmimickingthepeoplearound——happythruststhatmadehersmilebutshiveralittle，lesttheyshouldbeheardorseen。Theirheadswereclosetogetheracrossthelittletable。Theywentoutintothelounge。
Coffeecame，andhewantedhertosmokewithhim。Shehadneversmokedinapublicroom。Butitseemedstiffand”missish”torefuse——shemustdonowashisworlddid。Anditwasanotherlittlething；shewantedlittlethings，allthetimewantedthem。
Shedrewbackawindow-curtain，andtheystoodtheresidebyside。
Theseawasdeepbluebeneathbrightstars，andthemoonshonethrougharaggedpine-treeonalittleheadland。Thoughshestoodfivefeetsixinhershoes，shewasonlyuptohismouth。Hesighedandsaid:”Beautifulnight，myGyp！”Andsuddenlyitstruckherthatsheknewnothingofwhatwasinhim，andyethewasherhusband！”Husband”——funnyword，notpretty！Shefeltasachildopeningthedoorofadarkroom，and，clutchinghisarm，said:”Look！There’sasailing-boat。What’sitdoingoutthereatnight？”Anotherlittlething！Anylittlething！
Presentlyhesaid:”Comeup-stairs！I’llplaytoyou。”
Upintheirsitting-roomwasapiano，but——notpossible；to-morrowtheywouldhavetogetanother。To-morrow！Thefirewashot，andhetookoffhiscoattoplay。Inoneofhisshirt-sleevestherewasarent。Shethought，withasortoftriumph:’Ishallmendthat！’Itwassomethingdefinite，actual——alittlething。Therewereliliesintheroomthatgaveastrong，sweetscent。Hebroughtthemuptohertosniff，and，whileshewassniffing，stoopedsuddenlyandkissedherneck。Sheshuthereyeswithashiver。Hetooktheflowersawayatonce，andwhensheopenedhereyesagain，hisviolinwasathisshoulder。Forawholehourheplayed，andGyp，inhercream-colouredfrock，layback，listening。
Shewastired，notsleepy。Itwouldhavebeennicetohavebeensleepy。Hermouthhaditslittlesadtuckordimpleatthecorner；
hereyesweredeepanddark——acloudychild。Hisgazeneverleftherface；heplayedandplayed，andhisownfitfulfacegrewclouded。Atlastheputawaytheviolin，andsaid:”Gotobed，Gyp；you’retired。”
Obedientlyshegotupandwentintothebedroom。Withasickfeelinginherheart，andasnearthefireasshecouldget，sheundressedwithdesperatehaste，andgottobed。Anage——itseemed——
shelaythereshiveringinherflimsylawnagainstthecoldsheets，hereyesnotquiteclosed，watchingtheflickerofthefirelight。Shedidnotthink——couldnot——justlaystillerthanthedead。Thedoorcreaked。Sheshuthereyes。Hadsheaheartatall？Itdidnotseemtobeat。Shelaythus，witheyesshut，tillshecouldbearitnolonger。Bythefirelightshesawhimcrouchingatthefootofthebed；couldjustseehisface——likeaface——aface——whereseen？Ahyes！——apicture——ofawildmancrouchingatthefeetofIphigenia——sohumble，sohungry——solostingazing。Shegavealittlesmotheredsobandheldoutherhand。
II
Gypwastooproudtogivebyhalves。AndinthoseearlydaysshegaveFiorseneverythingexcept——herheart。Sheearnestlydesiredtogivethattoo；butheartsonlygivethemselves。Perhapsifthewildmaninhim，maddenedbybeautyinitspower，hadnotsooustedthespiritman，herheartmighthavegonewithherlipsandtherestofher。Heknewhewasnotgettingherheart，anditmadehim，inthewildnessofhisnatureandtheperversityofaman，gojustthewrongwaytowork，tryingtoconquerherbythesenses，notthesoul。
Yetshewasnotunhappy——itcannotbesaidshewasunhappy，exceptforasortoflostfeelingsometimes，asifsheweretryingtograspsomethingthatkeptslipping，slippingaway。Shewasgladtogivehimpleasure。Shefeltnorepulsion——thiswasman’snature。
Onlytherewasalwaysthatfeelingthatshewasnotclose。Whenhewasplaying，withthespirit-lookonhisface，shewouldfeel:
’Now，now，surelyIshallgetclosetohim！’Butthelookwouldgo；howtokeepitthereshedidnotknow，andwhenitwent，herfeelingwenttoo。
Theirlittlesuiteofroomswasattheveryendofthehotel，sothathemightplayasmuchashewished。Whilehepractisedinthemorningsshewouldgointothegarden，whichslopedinrock-
terracesdowntothesea。Wrappedinfur，shewouldsittherewithabook。Shesoonkneweachevergreen，orflowerthatwascomingout——aubretia，andlaurustinus，alittlewhiteflowerwhosenamewasuncertain，andonestar-periwinkle。Theairwasoftensoft；
thebirdssangalreadyandwerebusywiththeirweddings，andtwice，atleast，springcameinherheart——thatwonderfulfeelingwhenfirstthewholebeingscentsnewlifepreparingintheearthandthewind——thefeelingthatonlycomeswhenspringisnotyet，andoneachesandrejoicesallatonce。Seagullsoftencameoverher，craningdowntheirgreedybillsandutteringcrieslikeakitten’smewing。
Outhereshehadfeelings，thatshedidnotgetwithhim，ofbeingatonewitheverything。Shedidnotrealizehowtremendouslyshehadgrownupinthesefewdays，howthegroundbasshadalreadycomeintothelightmusicofherlife。LivingwithFiorsenwasopeninghereyestomuchbesidemereknowledgeof”man’snature”；
withherperhapsfatalreceptivity，shewasalreadysoakinguptheatmosphereofhisphilosophy。Hewasalwaysinrevoltagainstacceptingthingsbecausehewasexpectedto；but，likemostexecutantartists，hewasnoreasoner，justamereinstinctivekickeragainstthepricks。Hewouldlosehimselfindelightwithasunset，ascent，atune，anewcaress，inarushofpityforabeggarorablindman，arushofaversionfromamanwithlargefeetoralongnose，ofhatredforawomanwithaflatchestoranexpressionofsanctimony。Hewouldswingalongwhenhewaswalking，ordawdle，dawdle；hewouldsingandlaugh，andmakeherlaughtootillsheached，andhalfanhourlaterwouldsitstaringintosomepitofdarknessinasortofpowerfulbroodingofhiswholebeing。Insensiblyshesharedinthisdeepdrinkingofsensation，butalwaysgracefully，fastidiously，neverlosingsenseofotherpeople’sfeelings。
Inhislove-raptures，hejustavoidedsettinghernervesonedge，becauseheneverfailedtomakeherfeelhisenjoymentofherbeauty；thatperpetualconsciousness，too，ofnotbelongingtotheproperandrespectable，whichshehadtriedtoexplaintoherfather，madehersetherteethagainstfeelingshocked。Butinotherwayshedidshockher。Shecouldnotgetusedtohisutteroblivionofpeople’sfeelings，totheferociouscontemptwithwhichhewouldlookatthosewhogotonhisnerves，andmakehalf-audiblecomments，justashehadcommentedonherownfatherwhenheandCountRosekpassedthem，bytheSchillerstatue。Shewouldvisiblyshrinkatthoseremarks，thoughtheyweresometimessoexcruciatinglyfunnythatshehadtolaugh，andfeeldreadfulimmediatelyafter。Shesawthatheresentedhershrinking；itseemedtoexcitehimtorunamuckthemore。Butshecouldnothelpit。Onceshegotupandwalkedaway。Hefollowedher，satonthefloorbesideherknees，andthrusthishead，likeagreatcat，underherhand。”Forgiveme，myGyp；buttheyaresuchbrutes。Whocouldhelpit？
Nowtellme——whocould，exceptmyGyp？”Andshehadtoforgivehim。But，oneevening，whenhehadbeenreallyoutrageousduringdinner，sheanswered:”No；Ican’t。It’syouthatarethebrute。YouWEREabrutetothem！”
Heleapedupwithafaceoffuriousgloomandwentoutoftheroom。
Itwasthefirsttimehehadgivenwaytoangerwithher。Gypsatbythefire，verydisturbed；chieflybecauseshewasnotreallyupsetathavinghurthim。Surelysheoughttobefeelingmiserableatthat！
Butwhen，atteno’clock，hehadnotcomeback，shebegantoflutterinearnest。Shehadsaidadreadfulthing！Andyet，inherheart，shedidnottakebackherjudgment。HereallyHADbeenabrute。Shewouldhavelikedtosootheherselfbyplaying，butitwastoolatetodisturbpeople，andgoingtothewindow，shelookedoutoverthesea，feelingbeatenandconfused。ThiswasthefirsttimeshehadgivenfreereintoherfeelingagainstwhatWintonwouldhavecalledhis”bounderism。”IfhehadbeenEnglish，shewouldneverhavebeenattractedbyonewhocouldtramplesoonotherpeople’sfeelings。What，then，hadattractedher？Hisstrangeness，wildness，themesmericpullofhispassionforher，hismusic！Nothingcouldspoilthatinhim。Thesweep，thesurge，andsighinhisplayingwasliketheseaoutthere，dark，andsurf-
edged，beatingontherocks；ortheseadeep-colouredindaylight，withwhitegullsoverit；ortheseawiththosesinuouspathsmadebythewanderingcurrents，thesubtle，smiling，silentsea，holdinginsuspenseitsunfathomablerestlessness，waitingtosurgeandspringagain。Thatwaswhatshewantedfromhim——nothisembraces，notevenhisadoration，hiswit，orhisqueer，lithecomelinesstouchedwithfelinity；no，onlythatinhissoulwhichescapedthroughhisfingersintotheairanddraggedathersoul。If，whenhecamein，sheweretoruntohim，throwherarmsroundhisneck，makeherselffeelclose，loseherselfinhim！Whynot？Itwasherduty；whynotherdelight，too？Butsheshivered。Someinstincttoodeepforanalysis，somethingintheveryheartofhernervesmadeherrecoil，asifshewereafraid，literallyscaredoflettingherselfgo，ofloving——thesubtlestinstinctofself-preservationagainstsomethingfatal；againstbeingledonbeyond——yes，itwaslikethatcurious，instinctivesinkingwhichsomefeelatthemeresightofaprecipice，adreadofgoingnear，lesttheyshouldbedrawnonandoverbyresistlessattraction。
Shepassedintotheirbedroomandbeganslowlytoundress。Togotobedwithoutknowingwherehewas，whatdoing，thinking，seemedalreadyalittleodd；andshesatbrushingherhairslowlywiththesilver-backedbrushes，staringatherownpaleface，whoseeyeslookedsoverylargeanddark。Atlasttherecametoherthefeeling:”Ican’thelpit！Idon’tcare！”And，gettingintobed，sheturnedoutthelight。Itseemedqueerandlonely；therewasnofire。Andthen，withoutmoreado，sheslept。
ShehadadreamofbeingbetweenFiorsenandherfatherinarailway-carriageoutatsea，withthewaterrisinghigherandhigher，swishingandsighing。Awakeningalways，likeadog，toperfectpresenceofmind，sheknewthathewasplayinginthesitting-room，playing——atwhattimeofnight？Shelaylisteningtoaquivering，gibberingtunethatshedidnotknow。Shouldshebefirsttomakeitup，orshouldshewaitforhim？Twiceshehalfslippedoutofbed，butbothtimes，asiffatemeanthernottomove，hechosethatmomenttoswelloutthesound，andeachtimeshethought:’No，Ican’t。It’sjustthesamenow；hedoesn’tcarehowmanypeoplehewakesup。Hedoesjustwhathelikes，andcaresnothingforanyone。’Andcoveringherearswithherhands，shecontinuedtoliemotionless。
Whenshewithdrewherhandsatlast，hehadstopped。Thensheheardhimcoming，andfeignedsleep。Buthedidnotspareevensleep。Shesubmittedtohiskisseswithoutaword，herhearthardeningwithinher——surelyhesmelledofbrandy！Nextmorningheseemedtohaveforgottenitall。ButGyphadnot。Shewantedbadlytoknowwhathehadfelt，wherehehadgone，butwastooproudtoask。
Shewrotetwicetoherfatherinthefirstweek，butafterwards，exceptforapostcardnowandthen，shenevercould。Whytellhimwhatshewasdoing，incompanyofonewhomhecouldnotbeartothinkof？Hadhebeenright？Toconfessthatwouldhurtherpridetoomuch。ButshebegantolongforLondon。Thethoughtofherlittlehousewasagreenspottodwellon。Whentheyweresettledin，andcoulddowhattheylikedwithoutanxietyaboutpeople’sfeelings，itwouldbeallrightperhaps。Whenhecouldstartagainreallyworking，andshehelpinghim，allwouldbedifferent。Hernewhouse，andsomuchtodo；hernewgarden，andfruit-treescomingintoblossom！Shewouldhavedogsandcats，wouldridewhenDadwasintown。AuntRosamundwouldcome，friends，eveningsofmusic，dancesstill，perhaps——hedancedbeautifully，andlovedit，asshedid。Andhisconcerts——theelationofbeingidentifiedwithhissuccess！But，aboveall，theexcitementofmakingherhomeasdaintyasshecould，withdaringexperimentsinformandcolour。
Andyet，atheartsheknewthattobealreadylookingforward，banningthepresent，wasabadsign。
Onething，atallevents，sheenjoyed——sailing。TheyhadbluedayswheneventheMarchsunwaswarm，andtherewasjustbreezeenough。
Hegotonexcellentlywellwiththeoldsaltwhoseboattheyused，forhewasathisbestwithsimplefolk，whoselingohecouldunderstandaboutasmuchastheycouldunderstandhis。
Inthosehours，Gyphadsomerealsensationsofromance。Theseawassoblue，therocksandwoodedspursofthatSoutherncoastsodreamyinthebrightland-haze。Obliviousof”theoldsalt，”hewouldputhisarmroundher；outthere，shecouldswallowdownhersenseofform，andbegratefulforfeelingnearertohiminspirit。
Shemadeloyaleffortstounderstandhimintheseweeksthatwerebringingacertaindisillusionment。Theelementalpartofmarriagewasnotthetrouble；ifshedidnotherselffeelpassion，shedidnotresenthis。When，afteroneofthoseembraces，hismouthcurledwithalittlebittersmile，asiftosay，”Yes，muchyoucareforme，”shewouldfeelcompunctiousandyetaggrieved。Butthetroublelaydeeper——thesenseofaninsuperablebarrier；andalwaysthatdeep，instinctiverecoilfromlettingherselfgo。Shecouldnotletherselfbeknown，andshecouldnotknowhim。Whydidhiseyesoftenfixherwithastarethatdidnotseemtoseeher？Whatmadehim，inthemidstofseriousplaying，breakintosomefuriousordesolatelittletune，ordrophisviolin？Whatgavehimthoselonghoursofdejection，followingthemaddestgaiety？Aboveall，whatdreamshadheinthoseraremomentswhenmusictransformedhisstrangepaleface？Orwasitamerephysicalillusion——hadheanydreams？”Theheartofanotherisadarkforest”——toallbuttheonewholoves。
Onemorning，heheldupaletter。”Ah，ha！PaulRosekwenttoseeourhouse。’Aprettydove’snest！’hecallsit。”
ThememoryofthePole’ssphinxlike，sweetishface，andeyesthatseemedtoknowsomanysecrets，alwaysaffectedGypunpleasantly。
Shesaidquietly:”Whydoyoulikehim，Gustav？””Likehim？Oh，heisuseful。Agoodjudgeofmusic，and——manythings。””Ithinkheishateful。”
Fiorsenlaughed。”Hateful？Whyhateful，myGyp？Heisagoodfriend。Andheadmiresyou——oh，headmiresyouverymuch！Hehassuccesswithwomen。Healwayssays，’J’aiunetechniquemerveilleusepourseduireunefemme’”
Gyplaughed。”Ugh！He’slikeatoad，Ithink。””Ah，Ishalltellhimthat！Hewillbeflattered。””Ifyoudo；ifyougivemeaway——I——”
Hejumpedupandcaughtherinhisarms；hisfacewassocomicallycompunctiousthatshecalmeddownatonce。Shethoughtoverherwordsafterwardsandregrettedthem。Allthesame，Rosekwasasneakandacoldsensualist，shewassure。Andthethoughtthathehadbeenspyingattheirlittlehousetarnishedheranticipationsofhomecoming。
TheywenttoTownthreedayslater。WhilethetaxiwasskirtingLord’sCricket-ground，GypslippedherhandintoFiorsen’s。Shewasbrimfulofexcitement。Thetreeswerebuddinginthegardensthattheypassed；thealmond-blossomcoming——yes，reallycoming！
Theywereintheroadnow。Five，seven，nine——thirteen！Twomore！
Thereitwas，nineteen，inwhitefiguresontheleaf-greenrailings，underthesmallgreenlilacbuds；yes，andtheiralmond-
blossomwasout，too！Shecouldjustcatchaglimpseoverthosetallrailingsofthelowwhitehousewithitsgreenoutsideshutters。ShejumpedoutalmostintothearmsofBetty，whostoodsmilingalloverherbroad，flushedface，while，fromundereacharmpeeredforththeheadofablackdevil，withprickedearsandeyesasbrightasdiamonds。”Betty！Whatdarlings！””MajorWinton’spresent，mydear——ma’am！”
Givingthestoutshouldersahug，Gypseizedtheblackdevils，andranupthepathunderthetrellis，whiletheScotch-terrierpups，squeezedagainstherbreast，madeconfusedsmallnoisesandlickedhernoseandears。Throughthesquarehallsheranintothedrawing-room，whichopenedoutontothelawn；andthere，intheFrenchwindow，stoodspyingbackatthespick-and-spanroom，whereeverythingwas，ofcourse，placedjustwrong。Thecolouring，white，ebony，andsatinwood，lookednicereventhanshehadhoped。
Outinthegarden——herowngarden——thepear-treeswerethickening，butnotinblossomyet；afewdaffodilswereinbloomalongthewalls，andamagnoliahadonebudopened。Andallthetimeshekeptsqueezingthepuppiestoher，enjoyingtheiryoung，warm，fluffysavour，andlettingthemkissher。Sheranoutofthedrawing-room，upthestairs。Herbedroom，thedressing-room，thespareroom，thebathroom——shedashedintothemall。Oh，itwasnicetobeinyourownplace，tobe——Suddenlyshefeltherselfliftedoffthegroundfrombehind，andinthatundignifiedposition，hereyesflying，sheturnedherfacetillhecouldreachherlips。