Butthegliderbroughtmeupsmartly。Ihadtofindouthowthesethingswentdowntheair，andtheonlywaytofindoutistogodownwithone。AndforatimeIwouldn’tfaceit。
Thereissomethingimpersonalaboutabook，Isuppose。AtanyrateIfindmyselfabletowritedownherejusttheconfessionI’veneverbeenabletomaketoanyonefacetoface，thefrightfultroubleitwastometobringmyselftodowhatI
supposeeveryothercolouredboyintheWestIndiescoulddowithoutturningahair，andthatistoflingmyselfoffformyfirstsoardownthewind。Thefirsttrialwasboundtobetheworst；itwasanexperimentImadewithlife，andthechanceofdeathorinjurywas，Isupposed，aboutequaltothechanceofsuccess。Ibelievedthatwithadawn-likelucidity。IhadbegunwithagliderthatIimaginedwasonthelinesoftheWrightbrothers’aeroplane，butIcouldnotbesure。Itmightturnover。Imightupsetit。Itmightburrowitsnoseattheendandsmashitselfandme。Theconditionsoftheflightnecessitatedalertattention；itwasn’tathingtobedonebyjumpingoffandshuttingone’seyesorgettingangryordrunktodoit。Onehadtouseone’sweighttobalance。AndwhenatlastIdidititwashorrible——fortenseconds。Fortensecondsorso，asIsweptdowntheairflattenedonmyinfernalframeworkandwiththewindinmyeyes，therushofthegroundbeneathmefilledmewithsickandhelplessterror；Ifeltasthoughsomeviolentoscillatorycurrentwasthrobbinginbrainandbackbone，andIgroanedaloud。Isetmyteethandgroaned。Itwasagroanwrungoutofmeinspiteofmyself。Mysensationsofterrorswoopedtoaclimax。Andthen，youknow，theyended！
Suddenlymyterrorwasoveranddonewith。Iwassoaringthroughtheairrightwayup，steadily，andnomischancehadhappened。I
feltintenselyaliveandmynerveswerestrunglikeabow。I
shiftedalimb，swervedandshoutedbetweenfearandtriumphasI
recoveredfromtheswerveandheeledtheotherwayandsteadiedmyself。
IthoughtIwasgoingtohitarookthatwasflyingathwartme，——itwasqueerwithwhatprojectilesilencethatjumpeduponmeoutofnothingness，andIyelledhelplessly，“Getoutoftheway！”ThebirddoubleditselfuplikeapartlyinvertedV，flapped，wentuptotherightabruptlyandvanishedfrommycircleofinterest。ThenIsawtheshadowofmyaeroplanekeepingafixeddistancebeforemeandverysteady，andtheturfasitseemedstreamingoutbehindit。Theturf！——itwasn’tafterallstreamingsoimpossiblyfast。
WhenIcameglidingdowntothesafespreadoflevelgreenIhadchosen，Iwasascoolandreadyasacityclerkwhodropsoffanomnibusinmotion，andIhadlearntmuchmorethansoaring。I
tilteduphernoseattherightmoment，levelledagainandgroundedlikeasnowflakeonawindlessday。Ilayflatforaninstantandthenkneltupandgotonmyfeetatremble，butverysatisfiedwithmyself。Cothopewasrunningdownthehilltome。
ButfromthatdayIwentintotraining，andIkeptmyselfintrainingformanymonths。Ihaddelayedmyexperimentsforverynearlysixweeksonvariousexcusesbecauseofmydreadofthisfirstflight，becauseoftheslacknessofbodyandspiritthathadcometomewiththebusinesslife。Theshameofthatcowardicespurredmenonethelessbecauseitwasprobablyaltogethermyownsecret。IfeltthatCothopeatanyratemightsuspect。Well，——heshouldn’tsuspectagain。
ItiscuriousthatIrememberthatshameandselfaccusationanditsconsequencesfarmoredistinctlythanIrecalltheweeksofvacillationbeforeIsoared。ForatimeIwentaltogetherwithoutalcohol，Istoppedsmokingaltogetherandateverysparingly，andeverydayIdidsomethingthatcalledalittleuponmynervesandmuscles。IsoaredasfrequentlyasIcould。
Isubstitutedamotor-bicyclefortheLondontrainandtookmychancesinthesouthwardtraffic，andIeventriedwhatthrillsweretobegotuponahorse。Buttheyputmeonmadehorses，andIconceivedaperhapsunworthycontemptforthecertitudesofequestrianexerciseincomparisonwiththeadventuresofmechanism。AlsoIwalkedalongthehighwallatthebackofLadyGrovegarden，andatlastbroughtmyselftostridethegapwherethegatecomes。IfIdidn’taltogethergetridofacertaingiddyinstinctbysuchexercises，atleastItrainedmywilluntilitdidn’tmatter。AndsoonInolongerdreadedflight，butwaseagertogohigherintotheair，andIcametoesteemsoaringuponaglider，thatevenoverthedeepestdipinthegroundhadbarelyfortyfeetoffallbeneathit，ameremockeryofwhatflightmightbe。Ibegantodreamofthekeenerfreshnessintheairhighabovethebeechwoods，anditwasrathertosatisfythatdesirethanasanylegitimatedevelopmentofmyproperworkthatpresentlyIturnedapartofmyenergiesandthebulkofmyprivateincometotheproblemofthenavigableballoon。
Ihadgonefarbeyondthatinitialstage；Ihadhadtwosmashesandabrokenribwhichmyauntnursedwithgreatenergy，andwasgettingsomereputationintheaeronauticworldwhen，suddenly，asthoughshehadneverreallyleftit，theHonourableBeatriceNormandy，dark-eyed，andwiththeolddisorderlywaveofthehairfromherbrow，camebackintomylife。ShecameridingdownagrasspathinthethicketsbelowLadyGrove，percheduponahugeblackhorse，andtheoldEarlofCarnabyandArchieGarvell，herhalf-brother，werewithher。MyunclehadbeenbotheringmeabouttheCrestHillhot-waterpipes，andwewerereturningbyapathtransversetotheirsandcameoutuponthemsuddenly。OldCarnabywastrespassingonourground，andsohehailedusinafriendlyfashionandpulleduptotalktous。
Ididn’tnoteBeatriceatallatfirst。IwasinterestedinLordCarnaby，thatremarkablevestigeofhisownbrilliantyouth。I
hadheardofhim，butneverseenhim。Foramanofsixty-fivewhohadsinnedallthesins，sotheysaid，andlaidwastethemostmagnificentpoliticaldebutofanymanofhisgeneration，heseemedtometobelookingremarkablyfitandfresh。Hewasaleanlittlemanwithgrey-blueeyesinhisbrownface，andhiscrackedvoicewastheworstthinginhiseffect。
“Hopeyoudon’tminduscomingthisway，Ponderevo。”hecried；
andmyuncle，whowassometimesalittletoogeneralandgenerouswithtitles，answered，“Notatall，mylord，notatall！Gladyoumakeuseofit！”
“You’rebuildingagreatplaceoverthehill。”saidCarnaby。
“ThoughtI’dmakeashowforonce。”saidmyuncle。“Itlooksbigbecauseit’sspreadoutforthesun。”
“Airandsunlight。”saidtheearl。“Youcan’thavetoomuchofthem。Butbeforeourtimetheyusedtobuildforshelterandwaterandthehighroad。”
ThenIdiscoveredthatthesilentfigurebehindtheearlwasBeatrice。
I’dforgottenhersufficientlytothinkforamomentthatshehadn’tchangedatallsinceshehadwatchedmefrombehindtheskirtsofLadyDrew。Shewaslookingatme，andherdaintybrowunderherbroadbrimmedhat——shewaswearingagreyhatandlooseunbuttonedcoat——wasknitwithperplexity，trying，Isuppose，torememberwhereshehadseenmebefore。Hershadedeyesmetminewiththatmutequestion。
Itseemedincredibletomeshedidn’tremember。
“Well。”saidtheearlandtouchedhishorse。
Garvellwaspattingtheneckofhishorse，whichwasinclinedtofidget，anddisregardingme。Henoddedoverhisshoulderandfollowed。Hismovementseemedtoreleaseatrainofmemoriesinher。Sheglancedsuddenlyathimandthenbackatmewithaflashofrecognitionthatwarmedinstantlytoafaintsmile。
Shehesitatedasiftospeaktome，smiledbroadlyandunderstandinglyandturnedtofollowtheothers。Allthreebrokeintoacanterandshedidnotlookback。Istoodforasecondorsoatthecrossingofthelanes，watchingherrecede，andthenbecameawarethatmyunclewasalreadysomepacesoffandtalkingoverhisshoulderinthebeliefthatIwasclosebehind。I
turnedaboutandstrodetoovertakehim。MymindwasfullofBeatriceandthissurprise。IrememberedhersimplyasaNormandy。I’dcleanforgottenthatGarvellwasthesonandshethestep-daughterofourneighbour，LadyOsprey。Indeed，I’dprobablyforgottenatthattimethatwehadLadyOspreyasaneighbour。Therewasnoreasonatallforrememberingit。ItwasamazingtofindherinthisSurreycountryside，whenI’dneverthoughtofheraslivinganywhereintheworldbutatBladesoverPark，nearfortymilesandtwentyyearsaway。Shewassoalive——sounchanged！Thesamequickwarmbloodwasinhercheeks。Itseemedonlyyesterdaythatwehadkissedamongthebrackenstems。
“Eh？”Isaid。
“Isayhe’sgoodstuff。”saidmyuncle。“Youcansaywhatyoulikeagainstthearistocracy，George；LordCarnaby’srattlinggoodstuff。There’sasortofSavoirFaire，something——it’sanold-fashionedphrase，George，butagoodonethere’saBong-Tong。It’sliketheOxfordturf，George，youcan’tgrowitinayear。Iwonderhowtheydoit。It’slivingalwaysonaScale，George。It’sbeingtherefromthebeginning。”。
“Shemight。”Isaidtomyself，“beapicturebyRomneycomealive！”
“Theytellallthesestoriesabouthim。”saidmyuncle，“butwhatdotheyallamountto？”
“Gods！”Isaidtomyself；“butwhyhaveIforgottenforsolong？
Thosequeerlittlebrowsofhers，thetouchofmischiefinhereyes——thewayshebreaksintoasmile！”
“Idon’tblamehim。”saidmyuncle。“Mostlyit’simagination。
Thatandleisure，George。WhenIwasayoungmanIwaskeptprettybusy。Sowereyou。Eventhen——！”
WhatpuzzledmemoreparticularlywasthequeertrickofmymemorythathadneverrecalledanythingvitalofBeatricewhateverwhenImetGarvellagainthathad，indeed，recallednothingexceptaboyishantagonismandourfight。Nowwhenmysenseswerefullofher，itseemedincrediblethatIcouldeverhaveforgotten。