VII
Theywhohaveknownthedoldrums——howthesailsofthelistlessshipdroop，andthehopeofescapediesdaybyday——mayunderstandsomethingofthelifeGypbeganlivingnow。Onaship，evendoldrumscometoanend。Butayoungwomanoftwenty-three，whohasmadeamistakeinhermarriage，andhasonlyherselftoblame，looksforwardtonoend，unlessshebethenewwoman，whichGypwasnot。Havingsettledthatshewouldnotadmitfailure，andclenchedherteethontheknowledgethatshewasgoingtohaveachild，shewentonkeepingthingssealedupevenfromWinton。ToFiorsen，shemanagedtobehaveasusual，makingmateriallifeeasyandpleasantforhim——playingforhim，feedinghimwell，indulginghisamorousness。Itdidnotmatter；shelovednooneelse。Tocountherselfamartyrwouldbesilly！Hermalaise，successfullyconcealed，wasdeeper——ofthespirit；thesubtleutterdiscouragementofonewhohasdoneforherself，clippedherownwings。
AsforRosek，shetreatedhimasifthatlittlescenehadnevertakenplace。Theideaofappealingtoherhusbandinadifficultywasgoneforeversincethenighthecamehomedrunk。Andshedidnotdaretotellherfather。Hewould——whatwouldhenotdo？Butshewasalwaysonherguard，knowingthatRosekwouldnotforgiveherforthatdartofridicule。HisinsinuationsaboutDaphneWingsheputoutofmind，asshenevercouldhaveifshehadlovedFiorsen。Shesetupforherselftheidolofpride，andbecameitsfaithfulworshipper。OnlyWinton，andperhapsBetty，couldtellshewasnothappy。Fiorsen’sdebtsandirresponsibilityaboutmoneydidnotworryhermuch，forshepaideverythinginthehouse——
rent，wages，food，andherowndress——andhadsofarmadeendsmeet；andwhathedidoutsidethehouseshecouldnothelp。
Sothesummerworeontillconcertswereover，anditwassupposedtobeimpossibletostayinLondon。Butshedreadedgoingaway。
Shewantedtobeleftquietinherlittlehouse。ItwasthiswhichmadehertellFiorsenhersecretonenight，afterthetheatre。Hehadbeguntotalkofaholiday，sittingontheedgeofthesettee，withaglassinhishandandacigarettebetweenhislips。Hischeeks，whiteandhollowfromtoomuchLondon，wentacuriousdullred；hegotupandstaredather。Gypmadeaninvoluntarymovementwithherhands。”Youneedn’tlookatme。It’strue。”
Heputdownglassandcigaretteandbegantotramptheroom。AndGypstoodwithalittlesmile，notevenwatchinghim。Suddenlyheclaspedhisforeheadandbrokeout:”ButIdon’twantit；Iwon’thaveit——spoilingmyGyp。”Thenquicklygoinguptoherwithascaredface:”Idon’twantit；I’mafraidofit。Don’thaveit。”
InGyp’sheartcamethesamefeelingaswhenhehadstoodtheredrunk，againstthewall——compassion，ratherthancontemptofhischildishness。Andtakinghishandshesaid:”Allright，Gustav。Itshan’tbotheryou。WhenIbegintogetugly，I’llgoawaywithBettytillit’sover。”
Hewentdownonhisknees。”Oh，no！Oh，no！Oh，no！MybeautifulGyp！”
AndGypsatlikeasphinx，forfearthatshetoomightletslipthosewords:”Oh，no！”
Thewindowswereopen，andmothshadcomein。Onehadsettledonthehydrangeaplantthatfilledthehearth。Gyplookedatthesoft，white，downything，whoseheadwaslikeatinyowl’sagainstthebluishpetals；lookedatthepurple-greytilesdownthere，andthestuffofherownfrock，intheshadedgleamofthelamps。Andallherloveofbeautyrebelled，calledupbyhis:”Oh，no！”Shewouldbeunsightlysoon，andsufferpain，andperhapsdieofit，asherownmotherhaddied。Shesetherteeth，listeningtothatgrown-upchildrevoltingagainstwhathehadbroughtonher，andtouchedhishand，protectingly。
Itinterested，evenamusedherthisnightandnextdaytowatchhistreatmentofthedisconcertingpieceofknowledge。Forwhenatlastherealizedthathehadtoacquiesceinnature，hebegan，asshehadknownhewould，tojibawayfromallreminderofit。Shewascarefulnottosuggestthatheshouldgoawaywithouther，knowinghisperversity。ButwhenheproposedthatsheshouldcometoOstendwithhimandRosek，sheanswered，afterseemingdeliberation，thatshethoughtshehadbetternot——shewouldratherstayathomequitequietly；buthemustcertainlygoandgetagoodholiday。
Whenhewasreallygone，peacefellonGyp——peacesuchasonefeels，havingnolongerthetight，bandedsensationsofafever。
Tobewithoutthatstrange，disorderlypresenceinthehouse！Whenshewokeinthesultrysilenceofthenextmorning，sheutterlyfailedtopersuadeherselfthatshewasmissinghim，missingthesoundofhisbreathing，thesightofhisrumpledhaironthepillow，theoutlineofhislongformunderthesheet。Herheartwasdevoidofanyemptinessorache；sheonlyfelthowpleasantandcoolandtranquilitwastolietherealone。Shestayedquitelateinbed。Itwasdelicious，withwindowanddoorwideopenandthepuppiesrunninginandout，tolieanddozeoff，orlistentothepigeons’cooing，andthedistantsoundsoftraffic，andfeelincommandoncemoreofherself，bodyandsoul。NowthatshehadtoldFiorsen，shehadnolongeranydesiretokeepherconditionsecret。
Feelingthatitwouldhurtherfathertolearnofitfromanyonebutherself，shetelephonedtotellhimshewasalone，andaskedifshemightcometoBuryStreetanddinewithhim。
Wintonhadnotgoneaway，because，betweenGoodwoodandDoncastertherewasnoracingthathecaredfor；onecouldnotrideatthistimeofyear，somightjustaswellbeinLondon。Infact，Augustwasperhapsthepleasantestofallmonthsintown；theclubwasempty，andhecouldsittherewithoutsomeoldborebuttonholinghim。LittleBoncarte，thefencing-master，wasalwaysfreeforabout——Wintonhadlonglearnedtomakehislefthandwhathisrighthandusedtobe；theTurkishbathsinJermynStreetwerenearlyvoidoftheirfatclients；hecouldsaunterovertoCoventGarden，buyamelon，andcarryithomewithoutmeetinganybutthemostinferiorduchessesinPiccadilly；onwarmnightshecouldstrollthestreetsortheparks，smokinghiscigar，hishatpushedbacktocoolhisforehead，thinkingvaguethoughts，recallingvaguememories。Hereceivedthenewsthathisdaughterwasaloneandfreefromthatfellowwithsomethinglikedelight。Whereshouldhedineher？Mrs。Markeywasonherholiday。WhynotBlafard’s？
Quiet——smallrooms——nottoorespectable——quitefairlycool——goodthingstoeat。Yes；Blafard’s！
Whenshedroveup，hewasreadyinthedoorway，histhinbrownfacewithitskeen，half-veiledeyesthepictureofcomposure，butfeelingatheartlikeaschoolboyoffforanexeat。Howprettyshewaslooking——thoughpalefromLondon——herdarkeyes，hersmile！
Andsteppingquicklytothecab，hesaid:”No；I’mgettingin——diningatBlafard’s，Gyp——anightout！”
Itgavehimathrilltowalkintothatlittlerestaurantbehindher；andpassingthroughitslowredroomstomarkthedinersturnandstarewithenvy——takinghim，perhaps，foradifferentsortofrelation。Hesettledherintoafarcornerbyawindow，whereshecouldseethepeopleandbeseen。Hewantedhertobeseen；whilehehimselfturnedtotheworldonlytheshortbackwingsofhisglossygreyishhair。HehadnonotionofbeingdisturbedinhisenjoymentbythesightofHivitesandAmorites，orwhatevertheymightbe，lappingchampagneandshiningintheheat。For，secretly，hewaslivingnotonlyinthiseveningbutinacertaineveningofthepast，when，inthisverycorner，hehaddinedwithhermother。HISfacethenhadbornethebrunt；hershadbeenturnedawayfrominquisition。ButhedidnotspeakofthistoGyp。
Shedranktwofullglassesofwinebeforeshetoldhimhernews。
Hetookitwiththeexpressionsheknewsowell——tighteninghislipsandstaringalittleupward。Thenhesaidquietly:”When？””November，Dad。”
Ashudder，nottoberepressed，wentthroughWinton。Theverymonth！Andstretchinghishandacrossthetable，hetookhersandpressedittightly。”It’llbeallright，child；I’mglad。”
Clingingtohishand，Gypmurmured:”I’mnot；butIwon’tbefrightened——Ipromise。”
Eachwastryingtodeceivetheother；andneitherwasdeceived。
Butbothweregoodatputtingacalmfaceonthings。Besides，thiswas”anightout”——forher，thefirstsincehermarriage——offreedom，offeelingsomewhatassheusedtofeelwithallbeforeherinaballroomofaworld；forhim，theunfetteredresumptionofadearcompanionshipandastealthyrevelinthepast。Afterhis，”Sohe’sgonetoOstend？”andhisthought:’Hewould！’theyneveralludedtoFiorsen，buttalkedofhorses，ofMildenham——itseemedtoGypyearssinceshehadbeenthere——ofherchildishescapades。
And，lookingathimquizzically，sheasked:”Whatwereyoulikeasaboy，Dad？AuntRosamundsaysthatyouusedtogetintowhiterageswhennobodycouldgonearyou。Shesaysyouwerealwaysclimbingtrees，orshootingwithacatapult，orstalkingthings，andthatyounevertoldanybodywhatyoudidn’twanttotellthem。Andweren’tyoudesperatelyinlovewithyournursery-governess？”
Wintonsmiled。Howlongsincehehadthoughtofthatfirstaffection。MissHuntley！HelenaHuntley——withcrinklybrownhair，andblueeyes，andfascinatingfrocks！Herememberedwithwhatgriefandsenseofbitterinjuryheheardinhisfirstschool-
holidaysthatshewasgone。Andhesaid:”Yes，yes。ByJove，whatatimeago！Andmyfather’sgoingofftoIndia。Henevercameback；killedinthatfirstAfghanbusiness。
WhenIwasfond，IWASfond。ButIdidn’tfeelthingslikeyou——
nothalfsosensitive。No；notabitlikeyou，Gyp。”
Andwatchingherunconsciouseyesfollowingthemovementsofthewaiters，neverstaring，buttakinginallthatwasgoingon，hethought:’Prettiestcreatureintheworld！’”Well，”hesaid:”Whatwouldyouliketodonow——dropintoatheatreormusic-hall，orwhat？”
Gypshookherhead。Itwassohot。Couldtheyjustdrive，andthenperhapssitinthepark？Thatwouldbelovely。Ithadgonedark，andtheairwasnotquitesoexhausted——alittlefreshnessofscentfromthetreesinthesquaresandparksmingledwiththefumesofdungandpetrol。Wintongavethesameorderhehadgiventhatlongpastevening:”KnightsbridgeGate。”Ithadbeenahansomthen，andthenightairhadblownintheirfaces，insteadofasnowintheseinfernaltaxis，downthebackofone’sneck。TheyleftthecabandcrossedtheRow；passedtheendoftheLongWater，upamongthetrees。There，ontwochairscoveredbyWinton’scoat，theysatsidebyside。Nodewwasfallingyet；theheavyleaveshungunstirring；theairwaswarm，sweet-smelling。Blottedagainsttreesoronthegrasswereothercouplesdarkerthanthedarkness，verysilent。Allwasquietsaveforthenever-ceasinghumoftraffic。FromWinton’slips，thecigarsmokewreathedandcurled。
Hewasdreaming。Thecigarbetweenhisteethtrembled；alongashfell。Mechanicallyheraisedhishandtobrushitoff——hisrighthand！Avoicesaidsoftlyinhisear:”Isn’titdelicious，andwarm，andgloomyblack？”
Wintonshivered，asoneshiversrecalledfromdreams；and，carefullybrushingofftheashwithhislefthand，heanswered:”Yes；veryjolly。Mycigar’sout，though，andIhaven’tamatch。”
Gyp’shandslippedthroughhisarm。”Allthesepeopleinlove，andsodarkandwhispery——itmakesasortofstrangenessintheair。Don’tyoufeelit？”
Wintonmurmured:”Nomoonto-night！”
Againtheyweresilent。Apuffofwindruffledtheleaves；thenight，foramoment，seemedfullofwhispering；thenthesoundofagigglejarredoutandagirl’svoice:”Oh！Chuckit，’Arry。”
Gyprose。”Ifeelthedewnow，Dad。Canwewalkon？”
Theywentalongpaths，soasnottowetherfeetinherthinshoes。
Andtheytalked。Thespellwasover；thenightagainbutacommonLondonnight；theparkaspaceofparchinggrassandgravel；thepeoplejustclerksandshop-girlswalkingout。
VIII
Fiorsen’sletterswerethesourceofonelongsmiletoGyp。Hemissedherhorribly；ifonlyshewerethere！——andsoforth——blendedinthequeerestwaywiththeimpressionthathewasenjoyinghimselfuncommonly。Therewererequestsformoney，andcarefulomissionofanyrealaccountofwhathewasdoing。Outofabalancerunningratherlow，shesenthimremittances；thiswasherholiday，too，andshecouldaffordtopayforit。Sheevensoughtoutashopwhereshecouldselljewelry，and，withacertainmaliciousjoy，forwardedhimtheproceeds。Itwouldgivehimandherselfanotherweek。
OnenightshewentwithWintontotheOctagon，whereDaphneWingwasstillperforming。Rememberingthegirl’ssqueaksofraptureathergarden，shewrotenextday，askinghertolunchandspendalazyafternoonunderthetrees。
Thelittledancercamewithavidity。Shewaspale，anddroopyfromtheheat，buthappilydressedinLibertysilk，withaplainturn-
downstrawhat。Theylunchedoffsweetbreads，ices，andfruit，andthen，withcoffee，cigarettes，andplentyofsugar-plums，settleddowninthedeepestshadeofthegarden，Gypinalowwickerchair，DaphneWingoncushionsandthegrass。Oncepasttheexclamatorystage，sheseemedagreattalker，layingbareherlittlesoulwithperfectliberality。AndGyp——excellentlistener——enjoyedit，asoneenjoysallconfidentialrevelationsofexistencesverydifferentfromone’sown，especiallywhenregardedasasuperiorbeing。”OfcourseIdon’tmeantostayathomeanylongerthanIcanhelp；
onlyit’snogoodgoingoutintolife”——thisphrasesheoftenused——”tillyouknowwhereyouare。Inmyprofession，onehastobesocareful。Ofcourse，peoplethinkit’sworsethanitis；fathergetsfitssometimes。Butyouknow，Mrs。Fiorsen，home’sawful。Wehavemutton——youknowwhatmuttonis——it’sreallyawfulinyourbedroominhotweather。Andthere’snowheretopractise。WhatI
shouldlikewouldbeastudio。Itwouldbelovely，somewheredownbytheriver，orupherenearyou。ThatWOULDbelovely。Youknow，I’mputtingby。AssoonaseverIhavetwohundredpounds，I
shallskip。WhatIthinkwouldbeperfectlylovelywouldbetoinspirepaintersandmusicians。Idon’twanttobejustacommon’turn’——balletbusinessyearafteryear，andthat；Iwanttobesomethingratherspecial。Butmother’ssosillyaboutme；shethinksIoughtn’ttotakeanyrisksatall。Ishallnevergetonthatway。ItISsonicetotalktoyou，Mrs。Fiorsen，becauseyou’reyoungenoughtoknowwhatIfeel；andI’msureyou’dneverbeshockedatanything。Yousee，aboutmen:Oughtonetomarry，oroughtonetotakealover？Theysayyoucan’tbeaperfectartisttillyou’vefeltpassion。But，then，ifyoumarry，thatmeansmuttonoveragain，andperhapsbabies，andperhapsthewrongmanafterall。Ugh！Butthen，ontheotherhand，Idon’twanttoberaffish。Ihateraffishpeople——Isimplyhatethem。Whatdoyouthink？It’sawfullydifficult，isn’tit？”
Gyp，perfectlygrave，answered:”Thatsortofthingsettlesitself。Ishouldn’tbotherbeforehand。”
MissDaphneWingburiedherperfectchindeeperinherhands，andsaidmeditatively:”Yes；Iratherthoughtthat，too；ofcourseIcoulddoeithernow。
But，yousee，Ireallydon’tcareformenwhoarenotdistinguished。I’msureIshallonlyfallinlovewithareallydistinguishedman。That’swhatyoudid——isn’tit？——soyouMUST
understand。IthinkMr。Fiorseniswonderfullydistinguished。”
Sunlight，piercingtheshade，suddenlyfellwarmonGyp’sneckwhereherblouseceased，andfortunatelystilledthemedleyofemotionandlaughteralittlelowerdown。ShecontinuedtolookgravelyatDaphneWing，whoresumed:”Ofcourse，MotherwouldhavefitsifIaskedhersuchaquestion，andIdon’tknowwhatFatherwoulddo。Onlyitisimportant，isn’tit？Onemaygoallwrongfromthestart；andIdoreallywanttogeton。Isimplyadoremywork。Idon’tmeantoletlovestandinitsway；Iwanttomakeithelp，youknow。CountRoseksaysmydancinglackspassion。Iwishyou’dtellmeifyouthinkitdoes。
IshouldbelieveYOU。”
Gypshookherhead。”I’mnotajudge。”
DaphneWinglookedupreproachfully。”Oh，I’msureyouare！IfIwereaman，Ishouldbepassionatelyinlovewithyou。I’vegotanewdancewhereI’msupposedtobeanymphpursuedbyafaun；it’ssodifficulttofeellikeanymphwhenyouknowit’sonlytheballet-master。DoyouthinkIoughttoputpassionintothat？Yousee，I’msupposedtobeflyingallthetime；butitwouldbemuchmoresubtle，wouldn’tit，ifIcouldgivetheimpressionthatIwantedtobecaught。Don’tyouthinkso？”
Gypsaidsuddenly:”Yes，IthinkitWOULDdoyougoodtobeinlove。”
MissDaphne’smouthfellalittleopen；hereyesgrewround。Shesaid:”Youfrightenedmewhenyousaidthat。Youlookedsodifferent——
so——intense。”
AflameindeedhadleapedupinGyp。Thisfluffy，flabbytalkoflovesetherinstinctsinrevolt。Shedidnotwanttolove；shehadfailedtofallinlove。But，whateverlovewaslike，itdidnotbeartalkingabout。Howwasitthatthislittlesuburbangirl，whensheoncegotonhertoes，couldtwirlone’semotionsasshedid？”D’youknowwhatIshouldsimplyrevelin？”DaphneWingwenton:”Todancetoyouhereinthegardensomenight。Itmustbewonderfultodanceoutofdoors；andthegrassisniceandhardnow。Only，Isupposeitwouldshocktheservants。Dotheylookoutthisway？”Gypshookherhead。”Icoulddanceoverthereinfrontofthedrawing-roomwindow。Onlyitwouldhavetobemoonlight。IcouldcomeanySunday。I’vegotadancewhereI’msupposedtobealotusflower——thatwoulddosplendidly。Andthere’smyrealmoonlightdancethatgoestoChopin。Icouldbringmydresses，andchangeinthemusic-room，couldn’tI？”Shewriggledup，andsatcross-legged，gazingatGyp，andclaspingherhands。”Oh，mayI？”
HerexcitementinfectedGyp。Adesiretogivepleasure，thequeernessofthenotion，andherrealloveofseeingthisgirldance，madehersay:”Yes；nextSunday。”
DaphneWinggotup，madearush，andkissedher。Hermouthwassoft，andshesmelledoforangeblossom；butGyprecoiledalittle——
shehatedpromiscuouskisses。Somewhatabashed，MissDaphnehungherhead，andsaid:”Youdidlooksolovely；Icouldn’thelpit，really。”
AndGypgaveherhandthesqueezeofcompunction。
Theywentindoors，totryoverthemusicofthetwodances；andsoonafterDaphneWingdeparted，fullofsugar-plumsandhope。
Shearrivedpunctuallyateighto’clocknextSunday，carryinganexiguousgreenlinenbag，whichcontainedherdresses。Shewassubdued，and，nowthatithadcometothepoint，evidentlyalittlescared。Lobstersalad，hock，andpeachesrestoredhercourage。
Sheateheartily。Itdidnotapparentlymattertoherwhethershedancedfullorempty；butshewouldnotsmoke。”It’sbadforthe——”Shecheckedherself。
Whentheyhadfinishedsupper，Gypshutthedogsintothebackpremises；shehadvisionsoftheirrendingMissWing’sdraperies，orcalves。Thentheywentintothedrawing-room，notlightingup，thattheymighttellwhenthemoonlightwasstrongenoughoutside。
ThoughitwasthelastnightofAugust，theheatwasasgreatasever——adeep，unstirringwarmth；theclimbingmoonshotasyetbutathinshafthereandtherethroughtheheavyfoliage。Theytalkedinlowvoices，unconsciouslyplayinguptothenatureoftheescapade。Asthemoondrewup，theystoleoutacrossthegardentothemusic-room。Gyplightedthecandles。”Canyoumanage？”
MissDaphnehadalreadyshedhalfhergarments。”Oh，I’msoexcited，Mrs。Fiorsen！IdohopeIshalldancewell。”
Gypstolebacktothehouse；itbeingSundayevening，theservantshadbeeneasilydisposedof。Shesatdownatthepiano，turninghereyestowardthegarden。Ablurredwhiteshapeflittedsuddenlyacrossthedarknessatthefarendandbecamemotionless，asitmightbeawhite-floweringbushunderthetrees。MissDaphnehadcomeout，andwaswaitingforthemoon。Gypbegantoplay。ShepitchedonalittleSicilianpastoralethattheherdsmenplayontheirpipescomingdownfromthehills，softly，fromveryfar，rising，rising，swellingtofullcadence，andfailing，failingawayagaintonothing。Themoonroseoverthetrees；itslightfloodedthefaceofthehouse，downontothegrass，andspreadslowlybacktowardwherethegirlstoodwaiting。Itcaughttheborderofsunflowersalongthegardenwallwithastrokeofmagical，unearthlycolour——goldthatwasnotgold。
Gypbegantoplaythedance。Thepaleblurrinthedarknessstirred。Themoonlightfellonthegirlnow，standingwitharmsspread，holdingoutherdrapery——awhite，wingedstatue。Then，likeagiganticmothsheflutteredforth，blanchedandnoiselessflewoverthegrass，spunandhovered。Themoonlightetchedouttheshapeofherhead，paintedherhairwithpallidgold。Inthesilence，withthatunearthlygleamofcolouralongthesunflowersandonthegirl’shead，itwasasifaspirithaddroppedintothegardenandwasflutteringtoandfro，unabletogetout。
AvoicebehindGypsaid:”MyGod！What’sthis？Anangel？”
Fiorsenwasstandinghall-wayinthedarkenedroomstaringoutintothegarden，wherethegirlhadhalted，transfixedbeforethewindow，hereyesasroundassaucers，hermouthopen，herlimbsrigidwithinterestandaffright。Suddenlysheturnedand，gatheringhergarment，fled，herlimbsgleaminginthemoonlight。
AndGypsatlookingupattheapparitionofherhusband。Shecouldjustseehiseyesstrainingafterthatflyingnymph。MissDaphne’sfaun！Why，evenhisearswerepointed！Hadshenevernoticedbefore，howlikeafaunhewas？Yes——onherwedding-night！Andshesaidquietly:”DaphneWingwasrehearsinghernewdance。Soyou’reback！Whydidn’tyouletmeknow？Areyouallright——youlooksplendid！”
Fiorsenbentdownandclutchedherbytheshoulders。”MyGyp！Kissme！”
Butevenwhilehislipswerepressedonhers，shefeltratherthansawhiseyesstrayingtothegarden，andthought，”Hewouldliketobekissingthatgirl！”
Themomenthehadgonetogethisthingsfromthecab，sheslippedouttothemusic-room。
MissDaphnewasdressed，andstuffinghergarmentsintothegreenlinenbag。Shelookedup，andsaidpiteously:”Oh！Doeshemind？It’sawful，isn’tit？”
Gypstrangledherdesiretolaugh。”It’sforyoutomind。””Oh，Idon’t，ifyoudon’t！Howdidyoulikethedance？””Lovely！Whenyou’reready——comealong！””Oh，IthinkI’drathergohome，please！Itmustseemsofunny！””Wouldyouliketogobythisbackwayintothelane？Youturntotheright，intotheroad。””Oh，yes；please。Itwouldhavebeenbetterifhecouldhaveseenthedanceproperly，wouldn’tit？Whatwillhethink？”
Gypsmiled，andopenedthedoorintothelane。Whenshereturned，Fiorsenwasatthewindow，gazingout。Wasitforherorforthatflyingnymph？
IX
SeptemberandOctoberpassed。Thereweremoreconcerts，notverywellattended。Fiorsen’snoveltyhadwornoff，norhadhisplayingsweetnessandsentimentenoughforthebigPublic。Therewasalsoafinancialcrisis。ItdidnotseemtoGyptomatter。Everythingseemedremoteandunrealintheshadowofhercomingtime。Unlikemostmotherstobe，shemadenogarments，nopreparationsofanykind。Whymakewhatmightneverbeneeded？SheplayedforFiorsenagreatdeal，forherselfnotatall，readmanybooks——poetry，novels，biographies——takingtheminatthemoment，andforgettingthematonce，asonedoeswithbooksreadjusttodistractthemind。WintonandAuntRosamund，bytacitagreement，cameonalternateafternoons。AndWinton，almostasmuchunderthatshadowasGypherself，wouldtaketheeveningtrainafterleavingher，andspendthenextdayracingorcub-hunting，returningthemorningofthedayaftertopayhisnextvisit。Hehadnodreadjustthenlikethatofanunoccupieddayfacetofacewithanxiety。
Betty，whohadbeenpresentatGyp’sbirth，wasinaqueerstate。
Theobviousdesirabilityofsucheventstooneofmotherlytypedefraudedbyfateofchildrenwasterriblyimpingedonbythatoldmemory，andasolicitudeforher”pretty”farexceedingwhatshewouldhavehadforadaughterofherown。Whatapeonyregardsasanaturalhappeningtoapeony，shewatcheswithawewhenithappenstothelily。Thatothersingleladyofacertainage，AuntRosamund，theveryantithesistoBetty——along，thinnoseandamerebutton，asenseofdivinerightsandnosenseofrightsatall，adrawlandacomfortingwheeze，lengthandcircumference，decisionandthecurtseytoprovidence，humourandnone，dyspepsia，andthedigestionofanostrich，withotheroppositions——AuntRosamundwasalsouneasy，asonlyonecouldbewhodisapprovedheartilyofuneasiness，andhabituallyjokedanddrawleditintoretirement。
ButofallthoseroundGyp，Fiorsengavethemostinterestingdisplay。Hehadnotevenanelementarynotionofdisguisinghisstateofmind。Andhisstateofmindwasweirdly，wistfullyprimitive。HewantedGypasshehadbeen。Thethoughtthatshemightneverbecomeherselfagainterrifiedhimsoattimesthathewasforcedtodrinkbrandy，andcomehomeonlyalittlelessfargonethanthatfirsttime。Gyphadoftentohelphimgotobed。
Ontwoorthreeoccasions，hesufferedsothathewasoutallnight。Toaccountforthis，shedevisedtheformulaofaroomatCountRosek’s，wherehesleptwhenmusickepthimlate，soasnottodisturbher。Whethertheservantsbelievedherornot，sheneverknew。Nordidsheeveraskhimwherehewent——tooproud，andnotfeelingthatshehadtheright。
Deeplyconsciousoftheunaestheticnatureofhercondition，shewasconvincedthatshecouldnolongerbeattractivetoonesoeasilyupsetinhisnerves，sointolerantofugliness。Astodeeperfeelingsabouther——hadheany？Hecertainlynevergaveanythingup，orsacrificedhimselfinanyway。Ifshehadloved，shefeltshewouldwanttogiveupeverythingtothelovedone；butthen——shewouldneverlove！Andyetheseemedfrightenedabouther。Itwaspuzzling！Butperhapsshewouldnotbepuzzledmuchlongeraboutthatoranything；forsheoftenhadthefeelingthatshewoulddie。Howcouldshebegoingtolive，grudgingherfate？
Whatwouldgiveherstrengthtogothroughwithit？And，attimes，shefeltasifshewouldbegladtodie。Lifehaddefraudedher，orshehaddefraudedherselfoflife。Wasitreallyonlyayearsincethatgloriousday’shuntingwhenDadandshe，andtheyoungmanwiththecleareyesandtheirrepressiblesmile，hadslippedawaywiththehoundsaheadofallthefield——thefataldayFiorsendescendedfromthecloudsandaskedforher？AnoverwhelminglongingforMildenhamcameonher，togetawaytherewithherfatherandBetty。
ShewentatthebeginningofNovember。
Overherdeparture，Fiorsenbehavedlikeatiredchildthatwillnotgotobed。Hecouldnotbeartobeawayfromher，andsoforth；butwhenshehadgone，hespentafuriousbohemianevening。
Ataboutfive，hewokewith”anawfulcoldfeelinginmyheart，”ashewrotetoGypnextday——”anawfulfeeling，myGyp；Iwalkedupanddownforhours”inreality，halfanhouratmost。”HowshallIbeartobeawayfromyouatthistime？Ifeellost。”Nextday，hefoundhimselfinPariswithRosek。”Icouldnotstand，”hewrote，”thesightofthestreets，ofthegarden，ofourroom。WhenIcomebackIshallstaywithRosek。NearertothedayIwillcome；Imustcometoyou。”ButGyp，whenshereadtheletter，saidtoWinton:”Dad，whenitcomes，don’tsendforhim。Idon’twanthimhere。”
Withthoselettersofhis，sheburiedthelastremnantsofherfeelingthatsomewhereinhimtheremustbesomethingasfineandbeautifulasthesoundshemadewithhisviolin。Andyetshefeltthoselettersgenuineinaway，pathetic，andwithrealfeelingofasort。
FromthemomentshereachedMildenham，shebegantolosethathopelessnessaboutherself；and，forthefirsttime，hadthesensationofwantingtoliveinthenewlifewithinher。Shefirstfeltit，goingintoheroldnursery，whereeverythingwasthesameasithadbeenwhenshefirstsawit，achildofeight；therewasheroldreddoll’shouse，thewholesideofwhichopenedtodisplaythevariousfloors；thewornVenetianblinds，therattleofwhosefallhadsoundedinherearssomanyhundredtimes；thehighfender，nearwhichshehadlainsooftenonthefloor，herchinonherhands，readingGrimm，or”AliceinWonderland，”orhistoriesofEngland。Here，too，perhapsthisnewchildwouldliveamongsttheoldfamiliars。Andthewhimseizedhertofaceherhourinheroldnursery，notintheroomwhereshehadsleptasagirl。Shewouldnotlikethedaintinessofthatroomdeflowered。Letitstaytheroomofhergirlhood。Butinthenursery——therewassafety，comfort！AndwhenshehadbeenatMildenhamaweek，shemadeBettychangeherover。
NooneinthathousewashalfsocalmtolookatinthosedaysasGyp。Bettywasnotguiltlessofsittingonthestairsandcryingatoddmoments。Mrs。Markeyhadnevermadesuchbadsoups。Markeysofarforgothimselfasfrequentlytotalk。Wintonlamedahorsetryinganimpossiblejumpthathemightgethomethequicker，and，onceback，waslikeanunquietspirit。IfGypwereintheroom，hewouldmakethepretenceofwantingtowarmhisfeetorhand，justtostrokehershoulderashewentbacktohischair。Hisvoice，someasuredanddry，hadaringinit，thattooplainlydisclosedtheanxietyofhisheart。Gyp，alwayssensitivetoatmosphere，feltcradledinalltheloveabouther。Wonderfulthattheyshouldallcaresomuch！Whathadshedoneforanyone，thatpeopleshouldbesosweet——heespecially，whomshehadsogrievouslydistressedbyherwretchedmarriage？Shewouldsitstaringintothefirewithherwide，darkeyes，unblinkingasanowl’satnight——wonderingwhatshecoulddotomakeuptoherfather，whomalreadyonceshehadnearlykilledbycomingintolife。Andshebegantopractisethebearingofthecomingpain，tryingtoprojectherselfintothisunknownsuffering，sothatitshouldnotsurprisefromhercriesandcontortions。
Shehadonedream，overandoveragain，ofsinkingandsinkingintoafeatherbed，growinghotterandmoredeeplywalledinbythatwhichhadnostayinit，yetthroughwhichherbodycouldnotfallandreachanythingmoresolid。Once，afterthisdream，shegotupandspenttherestofthenightwrappedinablanketandtheeider-
down，ontheoldsofa，where，asachild，theyhadmadeherlieflatonherbackfromtwelvetooneeveryday。Bettywasaghastatfindingherthereasleepinthemorning。Gyp’sfacewassolikethechild-faceshehadseenlyingthereintheolddays，thatshebundledoutoftheroomandcriedbitterlyintothecupoftea。Itdidhergood。Goingbackwiththetea，shescoldedher”pretty”
forsleepingoutthere，withthefireout，too！
ButGyponlysaid:”Betty，darling，thetea’sawfullycold！Pleasegetmesomemore！”
X
Fromthedayofthenurse’sarrival，Wintongaveuphunting。Hecouldnotbringhimselftobeoutofdoorsformorethanhalfanhouratatime。DistrustofdoctorsdidnotpreventhimhavingtenminuteseverymorningwiththeoldpractitionerwhohadtreatedGypformumps，measles，andtheotherblessingsofchildhood。Theoldfellow——hisnamewasRivershaw——wasamostpeculiarsurvival。Hesmelledofmackintosh，hadroundpurplishcheeks，arimofhairwhichpeoplesaidhedyed，andbulginggreyeyesslightlybloodshot。Hewasshortinbodyandwind，drankportwine，wassuspectedoftakingsnuff，readTheTimes，spokealwaysinahuskyvoice，andusedaverysmallbroughamwithaveryoldblackhorse。
Buthehadacertainlowcunning，whichhaddefeatedmanyailments，andhisreputationforassistingpeopleintotheworldstoodextremelyhigh。Everymorningpunctuallyattwelve，thecrunchofhislittlebrougham’swheelswouldbeheard。Wintonwouldgetup，and，takingadeepbreath，crossthehalltothedining-room，extractfromasideboardadecanterofport，abiscuit-canister，andoneglass。Hewouldthenstandwithhiseyesfixedonthedoor，till，induetime，thedoctorwouldappear，andhecouldsay:”Well，doctor？Howisshe？””Nicely；quitenicely。””Nothingtomakeoneanxious？”
Thedoctor，puffingouthischeeks，witheyesstrayingtothedecanter，wouldmurmur:”Cardiaccondition，capital——alittle——um——nottomatter。Takingitscourse。Thesethings！”
AndWinton，withanotherdeepbreath，wouldsay:”Glassofport，doctor？”
Anexpressionofsurprisewouldpassoverthedoctor’sface。”Coldday——ah，perhaps——”Andhewouldblowhisnoseonhispurple-and-redbandanna。
Watchinghimdrinkhisport，Wintonwouldmark:”Wecangetyouatanytime，can’twe？”
Andthedoctor，suckinghislips，wouldanswer:”Neverfear，mydearsir！LittleMissGyp——oldfriendofmine。Atherservicedayandnight。Neverfear！”
AsensationofcomfortwouldpassthroughWinton，whichwouldlastquitetwentyminutesafterthecrunchingofthewheelsandthemingledperfumesofhimhaddiedaway。
Inthesedays，hisgreatestfriendwasanoldwatchthathadbeenhisfather’sbeforehim；agoldrepeaterfromSwitzerland，withachippeddial-plate，andacasewornwondrousthinandsmooth——afavouriteofGyp’schildhood。Hewouldtakeitoutabouteveryquarterofanhour，lookatitsfacewithoutdiscoveringthetime，fingerit，allsmoothandwarmfromcontactwithhisbody，andputitback。Thenhewouldlisten。Therewasnothingwhatevertolistento，buthecouldnothelpit。Apartfromthis，hischiefdistractionwastotakeafoilandmakepassesataleathercushion，setuponthetopofalowbookshelf。Intheseoccupations，variedbyconstantvisitstotheroomnextthenursery，where——tosaveherthestairs——Gypwasnowestablished，andbyexcursionstotheconservatorytoseeifhecouldnotfindsomenewflowertotakeher，hepassedallhistime，savewhenhewaseating，sleeping，orsmokingcigars，whichhehadconstantlytoberelighting。
ByGyp’srequest，theykeptfromhimknowledgeofwhenherpainsbegan。Afterthatfirstboutwasoverandshewaslyinghalfasleepintheoldnursery，hehappenedtogoup。Thenurse——abonnycreature——oneofthosefree，independent，economicagentsthatnowabound——methiminthesitting-room。Accustomedtothe”fussandbotherationofmen”atsuchtimes，shewaspreparedtodeliverhimalittlelecture。But，inapproaching，shebecameaffectedbythelookonhisface，and，realizingsomehowthatshewasinthepresenceofonewhoseself-controlwasproof，shesimplywhispered:”It’sbeginning；butdon’tbeanxious——she’snotsufferingjustnow。Weshallsendforthedoctorsoon。She’sveryplucky”；andwithanunaccustomedsensationofrespectandpitysherepeated:”Don’tbeanxious，sir。””Ifshewantstoseemeatanytime，Ishallbeinmystudy。Saveherallyoucan，nurse。”
Thenursewasleftwithafeelingofsurpriseathavingusedtheword”Sir”；shehadnotdonesuchathingsince——since——！And，pensive，shereturnedtothenursery，whereGypsaidatonce:”Wasthatmyfather？Ididn’twanthimtoknow。”
Thenurseansweredmechanically:”That’sallright，mydear。””Howlongdoyouthinkbefore——beforeit’llbeginagain，nurse？
I’dliketoseehim。”
Thenursestrokedherhair。”Soonenoughwhenit’salloverandcomfy。Menarealwaysfidgety。”
Gyplookedather，andsaidquietly:”Yes。Yousee，mymotherdiedwhenIwasborn。”
Thenurse，watchingthoselips，stillpalewithpain，feltaqueerpang。Shesmoothedthebed-clothesandsaid:”That’snothing——itoftenhappens——thatis，Imean，——youknowithasnoconnectionwhatever。”
AndseeingGypsmile，shethought:’Well，Iamafool。’”IfbyanychanceIdon’tgetthrough，Iwanttobecremated；I
wanttogobackasquickasIcan。Ican’tbearthethoughtoftheotherthing。Willyouremember，nurse？Ican’ttellmyfatherthatjustnow；itmightupsethim。Butpromiseme。”
Andthenursethought:’Thatcan’tbedonewithoutawillorsomething，butI’dbetterpromise。It’samorbidfancy，andyetshe’snotamorbidsubject，either。’Andshesaid:”Verywell，mydear；only，you’renotgoingtodoanythingofthesort。That’sflat。”
Gypsmiledagain，andtherewassilence，tillshesaid:”I’mawfullyashamed，wantingallthisattention，andmakingpeoplemiserable。I’vereadthatJapanesewomenquietlygooutsomewherebythemselvesandsitonagate。”
Thenurse，stillbusywiththebedclothes，murmuredabstractedly:”Yes，that’saverygoodway。Butdon’tyoufancyyou’rehalfthetroublemostofthemare。You’reverygood，andyou’regoingtogetonsplendidly。”Andshethought:’Odd！She’sneveroncespokenofherhusband。Idon’tlikeitforthissort——tooperfect，toosensitive；herfacetouchesyouso！’
Gypmurmuredagain:”I’dliketoseemyfather，please；andratherquick。”
Thenurse，afteroneswiftlook，wentout。
Gyp，whohadclinchedherhandsunderthebedclothes，fixedhereyesonthewindow。November！Acornsandtheleaves——thenice，damp，earthysmell！Acornsalloverthegrass。Sheusedtodrivetheoldretrieverinharnessonthelawncoveredwithacornsandthedeadleaves，andthewindstillblowingthemoffthetrees——inherbrownvelvet——thatwasaduckydress！Whowasithadcalledheronce”awiselittleowl，”inthatdress？And，suddenly，herheartsank。Thepainwascomingagain。Winton’svoicefromthedoorsaid:”Well，mypet？””Itwasonlytoseehowyouare。I’mallright。Whatsortofadayisit？You’llgoriding，won’tyou？Givemylovetothehorses。Good-bye，Dad；justfornow。”
Herforeheadwaswettohislips。
Outside，inthepassage，hersmile，likesomethingactualontheair，precededhim——thesmilethathadjustlastedout。Butwhenhewasbackinthestudy，hesuffered——suffered！Whycouldhenothavethatpaintobearinstead？
Thecrunchofthebroughambroughthisceaselessmarchoverthecarpettoanend。Hewentoutintothehallandlookedintothedoctor’sface——hehadforgottenthatthisoldfellowknewnothingofhisspecialreasonfordeadlyfear。Thenheturnedbackintohisstudy。Thewildsouthwindbroughtwetdrift-leaveswhirlingagainstthepanes。Itwasherethathehadstoodlookingoutintothedark，whenFiorsencamedowntoaskforGypayearago。Whyhadhenotbundledthefellowoutneckandcrop，andtakenheraway？——India，Japan——anywherewouldhavedone！Shehadnotlovedthatfiddler，neverreallylovedhim。Monstrous——monstrous！ThefullbitternessofhavingmissedrightactionsweptoverWinton，andhepositivelygroanedaloud。Hemovedfromthewindowandwentovertothebookcase；thereinonerowwerethefewbooksheeverread，andhetookoneout。”LifeofGeneralLee。”Heputitbackandtookanother，anovelofWhyteMelville’s:”GoodforNothing。”
Sadbook——sadending！Thebookdroppedfromhishandandfellwithaflumponthefloor。Inasortoficydiscovery，hehadseenhislifeasitwouldbeifforasecondtimehehadtobearsuchloss。
Shemustnot——couldnotdie！Ifshedid——then，forhim——！Inoldtimestheyburiedamanwithhishorseandhisdog，asifattheendofagoodrun。Therewasalwaysthat！Theextremityofthisthoughtbroughtrelief。Hesatdown，and，foralongtime，stayedstaringintothefireinasortofcoma。Thenhisfeverishfearsbeganagain。Whythedevildidn’ttheycomeandtellhimsomething，anything——ratherthanthissilence，thisdeadlysolitudeandwaiting？Whatwasthat？Thefrontdoorshutting。Wheels？
Hadthathell-houndofanolddoctorsneakedoff？Hestartedup。
ThereatthedoorwasMarkey，holdinginhishandsomecards。
Wintonscannedthem。”LadySummerhay；Mr。BryanSummerhay。Isaid，’Notathome，’sir。”
Wintonnodded。”Well？””Nothingatpresent。Youhavehadnolunch，sir。””Whattimeisit？””Fouro’clock。””Bringinmyfurcoatandtheport，andmakethefireup。Iwantanynewsthereis。”
Markeynodded。
Oddtositinafurcoatbeforeafire，andthedaynotcold！Theysaidyoulivedonafterdeath。HehadneverbeenabletofeelthatSHEwaslivingon。SHElivedinGyp。AndnowifGyp——！Death——
yourown——nogreatmatter！But——forher！Thewindwasdroppingwiththedarkness。Hegotupanddrewthecurtains。
Itwasseveno’clockwhenthedoctorcamedownintothehall，andstoodrubbinghisfreshlywashedhandsbeforeopeningthestudydoor。Wintonwasstillsittingbeforethefire，motionless，shrunkintohisfurcoat。Heraisedhimselfalittleandlookedrounddully。
Thedoctor’sfacepuckered，hiseyelidsdroopedhalf-wayacrosshisbulgingeyes；itwashiswayofsmiling。”Nicely，”hesaid；”nicely——agirl。Nocomplications。”
Winton’swholebodyseemedtoswell，hislipsopened，heraisedhishand。Then，thehabitofalifetimecatchinghimbythethroat，hestayedmotionless。Atlasthegotupandsaid:”Glassofport，doctor？”
Thedoctorspyingathimabovetheglassthought:’Thisis”thefifty-two。”Giveme”thesixty-eight”——morebody。’
Afteratime，Wintonwentupstairs。Waitingintheouterroomhehadareturnofhiscolddread。”Perfectlysuccessful——thepatientdiedfromexhaustion！”Thetinysquawkingnoisethatfellonhisearsentirelyfailedtoreassurehim。Hecarednothingforthatnewbeing。SuddenlyhefoundBettyjustbehindhim，herbosomheavinghorribly。”Whatisit，woman？Don’t！”
Shehadleanedagainsthisshoulder，appearingtohavelostallsenseofrightandwrong，and，outofhersobbing，gurgled:”Shelookssolovely——ohdear，shelookssolovely！”
Pushingherabruptlyfromhim，Wintonpeeredinthroughthejust-
openeddoor。Gypwaslyingextremelystill，andverywhite；hereyes，verylarge，verydark，werefastenedonherbaby。Herfaceworeakindofwonder。ShedidnotseeWinton，whostoodstone-
quiet，watching，whilethenursemovedaboutherbusinessbehindascreen。Thiswasthefirsttimeinhislifethathehadseenamotherwithherjust-bornbaby。Thatlookonherface——gonerightawaysomewhere，rightaway——amazedhim。Shehadneverseemedtolikechildren，hadsaidshedidnotwantachild。Sheturnedherheadandsawhim。Hewentin。Shemadeafaintmotiontowardthebaby，andhereyessmiled。Wintonlookedatthatswaddledspeckledmite；then，bendingdown，hekissedherhandandtiptoedaway。
Atdinnerhedrankchampagne，andbenevolencetowardsalltheworldspreadinhisbeing。Watchingthesmokeofhiscigarwreatheabouthim，hethought:’Mustsendthatchapawire。’Afterall，hewasafellowbeing——mightbesuffering，ashehimselfhadsufferedonlytwohoursago。Tokeephiminignorance——itwouldn’tdo！Andhewroteouttheform——”Allwell，adaughter——WINTON，”
andsentitoutwiththeorderthatagroomshouldtakeitinthatnight。
Gypwassleepingwhenhestoleupatteno’clock。
He，too，turnedin，andsleptlikeachild。
XI
Returningthenextafternoonfromthefirstrideforseveraldays，Wintonpassedthestationflyrollingawayfromthedrive-gatewiththelight-hearteddisillusionmentpeculiartoquiteemptyvehicles。
Thesightofafurcoatandbroad-brimmedhatinthehallwarnedhimofwhathadhappened。”Mr。Fiorsen，sir；goneuptoMrs。Fiorsen。”
Natural，butad——dbore！Andbad，perhaps，forGyp。Heasked:”Didhebringthings？””Abag，sir。””Getaroomready，then。”
Todinetete-a-tetewiththatfellow！
Gyphadpassedthestrangestmorninginherlife，sofar。Herbabyfascinatedher，alsothetugofitslips，givingherthequeerestsensation，almostsensual；asortofmeltedness，aninfinitewarmth，adesiretogripthelittlecreaturerightintoher——which，ofcourse，onemustnotdo。Andyet，neitherhersenseofhumournorhersenseofbeautyweredeceived。Itwasaqueerlittleaffairwithatuftofblackhair，ingracegreatlyinferiortoakitten。Itstiny，pink，crispedfingerswiththeirinfinitesimalnails，itsmicroscopiccurlytoes，andsolemnblackeyes——whentheyshowed，itsinimitablestillnesswhenitslept，itsincrediblevigourwhenitfed，wereall，asitwere，miraculous。Withal，shehadafeelingofgratitudetoonethathadnotkillednorevenhurthersoverydesperately——gratitudebecauseshehadsucceeded，performedherpartofmotherperfectly——thenursehadsaidso——she，sodistrustfulofherself！Instinctivelysheknew，too，thatthiswasHERbaby，nothis，going”totakeafterher，”astheycalledit。Howitsucceededingivingthatimpressionshecouldnottell，unlessitwerethepassivity，anddarkeyesofthelittlecreature。
Thenfromonetillthreetheyhadslepttogetherwithperfectsoundnessandunanimity。Sheawoketofindthenursestandingbythebed，lookingasifshewantedtotellhersomething。”Someonetoseeyou，mydear。”
AndGypthought:’He！Ican’tthinkquickly；Ioughttothinkquickly——Iwantto，butIcan’t。’Herfaceexpressedthis，forthenursesaidatonce:”Idon’tthinkyou’requiteuptoityet。”
Gypanswered:”Yes。Only，notforfiveminutes，please。”
Herspirithadbeenveryfaraway，shewantedtimetogetitbackbeforeshesawhim——timetoknowinsomesortwhatshefeltnow；
whatthismitelyingbesideherhaddoneforherandhim。Thethoughtthatitwashis，too——thistiny，helplessbeing——seemedunreal。No，itwasnothis！Hehadnotwantedit，andnowthatshehadbeenthroughthetortureitwashers，nothis——neverhis。
Thememoryofthenightwhenshefirstyieldedtothecertaintythatthechildwascoming，andhehadcomehomedrunk，swoopedonher，andmadehershrinkandshudderandputherarmroundherbaby。Ithadnotmadeanydifference。Only——Backcametheoldaccusingthought，fromwhichtheselastdaysshehadbeenfree:
’ButImarriedhim——Ichosetomarryhim。Ican’tgetoutofthat！’Andshefeltasifshemustcryouttothenurse:”Keephimaway；Idon’twanttoseehim。Oh，please，I’mtired。”Shebitthewordsback。Andpresently，withaveryfaintsmile，said:”Now，I’mready。”
Shenoticedfirstwhatclotheshehadon——hisnewestsuit，darkgrey，withlittlelighterlines——shehadchosenitherself；thathistiewasinabow，notasailor’sknot，andhishairbrighterthanusual——asalwaysjustafterbeingcut；andsurelythehairwasgrowingdownagaininfrontofhisears。Then，gratefully，almostwithemotion，sherealizedthathislipswerequivering，hiswholefacequivering。Hecameinontiptoe，stoodlookingatheraminute，thencrossedveryswiftlytothebed，veryswiftlykneltdown，and，takingherhand，turneditoverandputhisfacetoit。
Thebristlesofhismoustachetickledherpalm；hisnoseflatteneditselfagainstherfingers，andhislipskeptmurmuringwordsintothehand，withthemoistwarmtouchofhislips。Gypknewhewasburyingthereallhisremorse，perhapstheexcesseshehadcommittedwhileshehadbeenawayfromhim，buryingthefearshehadfelt，andtheemotionatseeinghersowhiteandstill。Shefeltthatinaminutehewouldraiseaquitedifferentface。Anditflashedthroughher:”IfIlovedhimIwouldn’tmindwhathedid——ever！Whydon’tIlovehim？There’ssomethingloveable。Whydon’tI？”
Hedidraisehisface；hiseyeslightedonthebaby，andhegrinned。”Lookatthis！”hesaid。”Isitpossible？Oh，myGyp，whatafunnyone！Oh，oh，oh！”Hewentoffintoanecstasyofsmotheredlaughter；thenhisfacegrewgrave，andslowlypuckeredintoasortofcomicdisgust。Gyptoohadseenthehumoursofherbaby，ofitsqueerlittlereddishpudgeofaface，ofitstwenty-sevenblackhairs，andthedribbleatitsalmostinvisiblemouth；butshehadalsoseenitasamiracle；shehadfeltit，andtheresurgedupfromheralltheoldrevoltandmoreagainsthislackofconsideration。Itwasnotafunnyone——herbaby！Itwasnotugly！
Or，ifitwere，shewasnotfittobetoldofit。Herarmtightenedroundthewarmbundledthingagainsther。Fiorsenputhisfingeroutandtoucheditscheek。”ItISreal——soitis。MademoiselleFiorsen。Tk，tk！”
Thebabystirred。AndGypthought:’IfIlovedIwouldn’tevenmindhislaughingatmybaby。Itwouldbedifferent。’”Don’twakeher！”shewhispered。Shefelthiseyesonher，knewthathisinterestinthebabyhadceasedassuddenlyasitcame，thathewasthinking，”HowlongbeforeIhaveyouinmyarmsagain？”Hetouchedherhair。And，suddenly，shehadafainting，sinkingsensationthatshehadneveryetknown。Whensheopenedhereyesagain，theeconomicagentwasholdingsomethingbeneathhernoseandmakingsoundsthatseemedtobethewords:”Well，Iamad——dfool！”repeatedlyexpressed。Fiorsenwasgone。
SeeingGyp’seyesoncemoreopen，thenursewithdrewtheammonia，replacedthebaby，andsaying:”Nowgotosleep！”withdrewbehindthescreen。Likeallrobustpersonalities，shevisitedonothershervexationswithherself。ButGypdidnotgotosleep；shegazednowathersleepingbaby，nowatthepatternofthewall-paper，tryingmechanicallytofindthebirdcaughtatintervalsamongstitsbrown-and-greenfoliage——onebirdineachalternatesquareofthepattern，sothattherewasalwaysabirdinthecentreoffourotherbirds。Andthebirdwasofgreenandyellowwitharedbeak。
Onbeingturnedoutofthenurserywiththeassurancethatitwas”allright——onlyalittlefaint，”Fiorsenwentdown-stairsdisconsolate。Theatmosphereofthisdarkhousewherehewasastranger，anunwelcomestranger，wasinsupportable。HewantednothinginitbutGyp，andGyphadfaintedathistouch。Nowonderhefeltmiserable。Heopenedadoor。Whatroomwasthis？A
piano！Thedrawing-room。Ugh！Nofire——whatmisery！Herecoiledtothedoorwayandstoodlistening。Notasound。Greylightinthecheerlessroom；almostdarkalreadyinthehallbehindhim。
WhatalifetheseEnglishlived——worsethanthewinterinhisoldcountryhomeinSweden，where，atallevents，theykeptgoodfires。
And，suddenly，allhisbeingrevolted。Stayhereandfacethatfather——andthatimageofaservant！Stayhereforanightofthis！GypwasnothisGyp，lyingtherewiththatbabybesideher，inthishostilehouse。Smotheringhisfootsteps，hemadefortheouterhall。Therewerehiscoatandhat。Heputthemon。Hisbag？Hecouldnotseeit。Nomatter！Theycouldsenditafterhim。Hewouldwritetoher——saythatherfaintinghadupsethim——
thathecouldnotriskmakingherfaintagain——couldnotstayinthehousesonearher，yetsofar。Shewouldunderstand。Andtherecameoverhimasuddenwaveoflonging。Gyp！Hewantedher。
Tobewithher！Tolookatherandkissher，andfeelherhisownagain！And，openingthedoor，hepassedoutontothedriveandstrodeaway，miserableandsickatheart。Allthewaytothestationthroughthedarkeninglanes，andintherailwaycarriagegoingup，hefeltthatachingwretchedness。Onlyinthelightedstreet，drivingbacktoRosek’s，didheshakeitoffalittle。Atdinnerandafter，drinkingthatspecialbrandyhenearlylostit；
butitcamebackwhenhewenttobed，tillsleeprelievedhimwithitsdarknessanddreams。
XII
Gyp’srecoveryproceededatfirstwithasurerapiditywhichdelightedWinton。Astheeconomicagentpointedout，shewasbeautifullymade，andthathadalottodowithit！
BeforeChristmasDay，shewasalreadyout，andonChristmasmorningtheolddoctor，bywayofpresent，pronouncedherfitandreadytogohomewhensheliked。Thatafternoon，shewasnotsowell，andnextdaybackagainupstairs。Nothingseemeddefinitelywrong，onlyasortofdesperatelassitude；asiftheknowledgethattogobackwaswithinherpower，onlyneedingherdecision，hadbeentoomuchforher。Andsincenooneknewherinwardfeelings，allwerepuzzledexceptWinton。Thenursingofherchildwaspromptlystopped。
ItwasnottillthemiddleofJanuarythatshesaidtohim。”Imustgohome，Dad。”
Theword”home”hurthim，andheonlyanswered:”Verywell，Gyp；when？””Thehouseisquiteready。IthinkIhadbettergoto-morrow。
He’sstillatRosek’s。Iwon’tlethimknow。Twoorthreedaystherebymyselffirstwouldbebetterforsettlingbabyin。””Verywell；I’lltakeyouup。”
HemadenoefforttoascertainherfeelingstowardFiorsen。Heknewtoowell。
Theytravellednextday，reachingLondonathalf-pasttwo。Bettyhadgoneupintheearlymorningtopreparetheway。ThedogshadbeenwithAuntRosamundallthistime。Gypmissedtheirgreeting；
buttheinstallationofBettyandthebabyinthespareroomthatwasnowtobethenursery，absorbedallherfirstenergies。Lightwasjustbeginningtofailwhen，stillinherfur，shetookakeyofthemusic-roomandcrossedthegarden，toseehowallhadfaredduringhertenweeks’absence。Whatawintrygarden！Howdifferentfromthatlanguorous，warm，moonlitnightwhenDaphneWinghadcomedancingoutoftheshadowofthedarktrees。Howbareandsharptheboughsagainstthegrey，darkeningsky——andnotasongofanybird，notaflower！Sheglancedbackatthehouse。
Coldandwhiteitlooked，buttherewerelightsinherroomandinthenursery，andsomeonejustdrawingthecurtains。Nowthattheleaveswereoff，onecouldseetheotherhousesoftheroad，eachdifferentinshapeandcolour，asisthehabitofLondonhouses。
Itwascold，frosty；Gyphurrieddownthepath。Fourlittleicicleshadformedbeneaththewindowofthemusic-room。Theycaughthereye，and，passingroundtotheside，shebrokeoneoff。
Theremustbeafireinthere，forshecouldseetheflickerthroughthecurtainsnotquitedrawn。ThoughtfulEllenhadbeenairingit！But，suddenly，shestoodstill。Therewasmorethanafireinthere！Throughthechinkinthedrawncurtainsshehadseentwofiguresseatedonthedivan。Somethingseemedtospinroundinherhead。Sheturnedtorushaway。Thenakindofsuperhumancoolnesscametoher，andshedeliberatelylookedin。
HeandDaphneWing！Hisarmwasroundherneck。Thegirl’sfacerivetedhereyes。Itwasturnedalittlebackandup，gazingathim，thelipsparted，theeyeshypnotized，adoring；andherarmroundhimseemedtoshiver——withcold，withecstasy？
AgainthatsomethingwentspinningthroughGyp’shead。Sheraisedherhand。Forasecondithoveredclosetotheglass。Then，withasickfeeling，shedroppeditandturnedaway。
Never！Neverwouldsheshowhimorthatgirlthattheycouldhurther！Never！Theyweresafefromanysceneshewouldmake——safeintheirnest！Andblindly，acrossthefrostygrass，throughtheunlighteddrawing-room，shewentupstairstoherroom，lockedthedoor，andsatdownbeforethefire。Prideragedwithinher。Shestuffedherhandkerchiefbetweenherteethandlips；shediditunconsciously。Hereyesfeltscorchedfromthefire-flames，butshedidnottroubletoholdherhandbeforethem。
Suddenlyshethought:’SupposeIHADlovedhim？’andlaughed。Thehandkerchiefdroppedtoherlap，andshelookedatitwithwonder——
itwasblood-stained。Shedrewbackinthechair，awayfromthescorchingofthefire，andsatquitestill，asmileonherlips。
Thatgirl’seyes，likealittleadoringdog’s——thatgirl，whohadfawnedonherso！Shehadgother”distinguishedman”！Shesprangupandlookedatherselfintheglass；shuddered，turnedherbackonherself，andsatdownagain。Inherownhouse！Whynothere——
inthisroom？Whynotbeforehereyes？Notyetayearmarried！
Itwasalmostfunny——almostfunny！Andshehadherfirstcalmthought:’Iamfree。’
Butitdidnotseemtomeananything，hadnovaluetoaspiritsobitterlystrickeninitspride。Shemovedherchairclosertothefireagain。Whyhadshenottappedonthewindow？Tohaveseenthatgirl’sfaceashywithfright！Tohaveseenhim——caught——
caughtintheroomshehadmadebeautifulforhim，theroomwhereshehadplayedforhimsomanyhours，theroomthatwaspartofthehousethatshepaidfor！Howlonghadtheyuseditfortheirmeetings——sneakinginbythatdoorfromthebacklane？Perhapsevenbeforeshewentaway——tobearhischild！Andtherebeganinherastrugglebetweenmotherinstinctandhersenseofoutrage——aspiritualtug-of-warsodeepthatitwasdumb，unconscious——todecidewhetherherbabywouldbeallhers，orwouldhaveslippedawayfromherheart，andbeathingalmostabhorrent。
Shehuddlednearerthefire，feelingcoldandphysicallysick。Andsuddenlythethoughtcametoher:’IfIdon’tlettheservantsknowI’mhere，theymightgooutandseewhatIsaw！’Hadsheshutthedrawing-roomwindowwhenshereturnedsoblindly？Perhapsalready——！
Inafever，sherangthebell，andunlockedthedoor。Themaidcameup。”Pleaseshutthedrawing-room，window，Ellen；andtellBettyI’mafraidIgotalittlechilltravelling。I’mgoingtobed。Askherifshecanmanagewithbaby。”Andshelookedstraightintothegirl’sface。Itworeanexpressionofconcern，evenofcommiseration，butnotthatflutteredlookwhichmusthavebeenthereifshehadknown。”Yes，m’m；I’llgetyouahot-waterbottle，m’m。Wouldyoulikeahotbathandacupofhotteaatonce？”
Gypnodded。Anything——anything！Andwhenthemaidwasgone，shethoughtmechanically:’Acupofhottea！Howquaint！Whatshoulditbebuthot？’
Themaidcamebackwiththetea；shewasanaffectionategirl，fullofthatadmiringloveservantsanddogsalwaysfeltforGyp，imbued，too，withtheinstinctivepartisanshipwhichstoresitselfonewayortheotherintheheartsofthosewholiveinhouseswheretheatmospherelacksunity。Tohermind，themistresswasmuchtoogoodforhim——aforeigner——andsuch’abits！Manners——hehadn’tany！Andnogoodwouldcomeofit。Notifyoutookheropinion！”AndI’veturnedthewaterin，m’m。Willyouhavealittlemustardinit？”
AgainGypnodded。Andthegirl，goingdownstairsforthemustard，toldcooktherewas”thataboutthemistressthatmakesyouquitepathetic。”Thecook，whowasfingeringherconcertina，forwhichshehadapassion，answered:”She’idesupherfeelin’s，sameastheyalldoes。Thank’eavenshehaven’tgotthatdrawl，though，that’eroldaunt’as——alwaysmakesmefeeltowanttosay，’Buckup，olddear，youain’t’alfsopreciousasallthat！’”
AndwhenthemaidEllenhadtakenthemustardandgone，shedrewoutherconcertinatoitsfulllengthand，withcautionarysoftness，begantopractise”Home，SweetHome！”
ToGyp，lyinginherhotbath，thosemuffledstrainsjustmounted，notquiteasatune，ratherassomefar-awayhummingoflargeflies。Theheatofthewater，thepungentsmellofthemustard，andthatdroninghumslowlysoothedanddrowsedawaythevehemenceoffeeling。Shelookedatherbody，silver-whiteintheyellowishwater，withadreamysensation。Somedayshe，too，wouldlove！
Strangefeelingshehadneverhadbefore！Strange，indeed，thatitshouldcomeatsuchamoment，breakingthroughtheoldinstinctiveshrinking。Yes；somedaylovewouldcometoher。TherefloatedbeforeherbraintheadoringlookonDaphneWing’sface，theshiverthathadpassedalongherarm，andpitifulnesscreptintoherheart——ahalf-bitter，half-admiringpitifulness。Whyshouldshegrudge——shewhodidnotlove？Thesounds，likethehummingoflargeflies，grewdeeper，morevibrating。Itwasthecook，inherpassionswellingouthermusiconthephrase，”Beitne-e-versohumble，There’sno-oplacelikehome！”