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But she was hischief point of knowledge, and to that he directed
himself.
Herpast pretended to rule her, defacto sovereign, and her past
wasfear. Once, far behind her, shethought she heard hurrying footsteps, but as
she went on she lostthem. She slackened herpace, and, flicking one hand with
her gloves, walked towards thehouse.
All drewto its close; the dress rehearsal
ended.
And I asked you what that hadto do with it. She was aware,immediately,
of some unusualness, and presently she knew whatit was.
White faces of
unvitalized, unsubstantial, yet real,existence, looked up at him mounting. He
had seen an old woman and a young, though the youngerform had been faint with
distance.
Living, whetherhe liked it or not, was provided; he knew that he did
like. She had her offerto make now and it would not be refused. Herheart was
warm, as if the very fire her ancestor had feared wasa comfort to her now. No,
said Margaret, and Pauline was gripped by a complete senseof folly. She
slackened herpace, and, flicking one hand with her gloves, walked towards
thehouse.
The trap, if there had been a trap, hadopened, and she had come out
beyond it. She heard the cry, and the sky over her was red with the glow
offire, its smell in her nostrils. Anstruthers extremely unwandering habits,
hesitated toagree.
Light did not drive them;they revealed the light as they
went.
Atrare moments speed is determined; all else is something else.
The
receiver at her ear, as if she leant to it, shewaited. Pauline cried,
andMargaret said: Why do you talk of before? I see, she said, and added with a
conscious laughter, One neverknows, does one?
Those who had known the
greentrees were tangled and torn in the dry. Once the Lord had been something
else; perhapsstill. She knew that the horror ofthe fire had overcome him. His
unapt mind had been little use to him.
Thats abstract, not personal, Concedethe
occasion.
The rich presenceenveloped her; out of a broken and contrite heart
she sighed withjoy. It was midnight, the Hill was empty, she was alone.
Whatever it is, howvery, very right of you! On the inhaled breath her splendour
glowed again; on theexhaled it passed. The sound was transmitted into herand
transmuted into sight or the fear of sight. To think of him was to think,
atonce, of speaking to him.
The morning was coming; his heart was drained. She
said, in a muffledvoice: Even the edge frightens me.
He heard the wind again,
but now blowing upthe street.
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