!Not
slow-moving
,
though
majestic
in
their
march
,
and
irresistible
,
—
the
four
winds
,
angels
between
earth
and
sky
,
—
binding
one
element
with
another
.
It
is
the
life
of
Nature
exhibited
in
vivid
allegory
.
'
'
Do
you
think
the
angels
an
allegory
?
'
asked
Lady
May
,
not
like
one
surprised
or
shocked
,
but
as
seeking
to
know
his
opinion
.
'
I
think
,
'
he
replied
,
'
that
Nature
is
a
living
miracle
,
not
a
dead
machine
.
To
me
it
is
full
of
eyes
which
are
always
gazing
into
mine
.
'
'
And
these
are
angels
?
'
she
said
,
bending
her
own
eyes
upon
him
earnestly
,
and
forgetting
that
they
too
might
scorch
and
burn
.
'
You
may
call
them
so
;
why
not
?
'
he
answered
.
'
Through
them
I
discern
that
all
things
are
known
to
one
another
and
reflected
,
as
in
countless
mirrors
,
from
world
to
world
.
'
'
You
remind
me
,
'
said
Lady
May
,
'
of
the
famous
verses
in
Faust
;
'
and
she
repeated
them
:
'
Wie
Himmelskräfte
auf
und
nieder
steigen
Und
sich
die
goldnen
Eimer
reichen
!
Mit
segenduftenden
Schwingen
Vom
Himmel
durch
die
Erde
dringen
,
Harmonisch
all
'
das
All
durchklingen
!
'
She
recited
well
.
The
artist
could
not
help
admiring
her
.
People
are
commonly
shy
of
repeating
verse
;
she
did
not
mind
.
'
How
finely
Goethe
renders
our
modern
thought
!
'
said
he
.
'
Yes
,
'
replied
Lady
May
;
'
I
do
n't
think
the
worshippers
of
angels
would
recognise
their
creed
in
him
.
'
'
What
matter
?
'
said
Ivor
.
They
were
forgetting
luncheon
.
The
Countess
,
partly
because
she
was
hungry
,
and
yet
more
from
a
dread
that
in
lingering
so
unconscionably
they
would
be
leaving
no
time
for
a
certain
visit
as
a
sister
of
charity
in
the
afternoon
,
reminded
them
of
the
fact
.
'
I
do
n't
see
any
angel
coming
to
us
with
a
golden
pail
,
'
was
her
comment
on
the
Lady
May
's
quotation
.
'
Had
we
not
better
be
going
towards
luncheon
?
It
is
past
one
.
'
Thus
admonished
they
came
down
from
the
watch-tower
,
embarked
in
the
skiff
,
and
shot
rapidly
across
the
water
.
Glanville
moored
the
boat
where
they
had
found
it
;
and
,
avoiding
the
brushwood
and
the
stone-pines
,
they
walked
,
at
a
pace
to
satisfy
the
Lady
Karina
,
along
an
easier
path
,
which
brought
them
to
the
front
terrace
.
They
were
all
tired
,
yet
delighted
with
their
morning
.
An
appetite
for
luncheon
is
a
blessed
thing
;
each
of
them
was
so
seasonably
graced
;
and
even
the
sad
brows
of
Glanville
,
where
gloom
put
on
a
cloud
from
time
to
time
,
unbent
at
the
merry
meal
.
His
friend
,
of
more
equable
temper
,
felt
that
his
happiness
had
no
alloy
.
He
was
still
in
thought
on
the
watch-tower
,
looking
over
the
golden
sea
,
and
contemplating
the
white-winged
messengers
as
they
moved
about
it
.
Once
or
twice
a
pair
of
dark
eyes
glanced
in
upon
the
vision
and
faded
as
quickly
as
they
came
.
He
had
seldom
enjoyed
a
morning
so
much
.
Ah
!
Ivor
the
philosopher
,
beware
!
Next
day
he
took
up
his
abode
at
the
Hermitage
.
CHAPTER
IX
ANIMUM
PICTURA
PASCIT
INANI
Now
that
Destiny
had
got
a
number
of
threads
in
her
hand
,
on
every
one
of
which
hung
a
human
life
,
she
proceeded
,
with
the
haste
and
fury
of
a
seemingly
blind
inspiration
,
to
entangle
them
.
It
was
not
merley
to
paint
pictures
that
Rupert
Glanville
had
come
to
Trelingham
.
Little
as
he
dreamt
it
,
the
central
knot
of
his
fortune
was
there
to
be
tied
;
he
was
to
act
and
be
acted
upon
,
to
drive
and
be
driven
,
to
be
caught
up
as
by
a
swiftly-turning
wheel
and
hurried
round
with
it
.
Nor
did
Ivor
Mardol
quit
his
London
solitude
and
find
delicious
shelter
in
the
Hermitage
that
he
might
be
satiate
with
rustic
beauty
and
add
a
new
leaf
to
his
sketch-book
.
By
sure
degrees
the
pleasant
intercourse
that
marked
the
beginning
of
their
stay
among
strangers
yielded
to
an
intimacy
which
,
at
first
promising
larger
gratification
,
led
to
the
most
unexpected
consequences
.
I
have
often
thought
how
much
turns
on
the
minor
personages
in
a
drama
,
whether
on
the
stage
or
off
it
.
Had
Tom
Davenant
not
been
kept
an
invalid
in
his
room
for
some
three
weeks
by
low
fever
;
had
his
mother
,
a
woman
of
the
world
,
not
returned
to
London
after
the
briefest
of
visits
;
had
the
Countess
been
less
absorbed
,
or
Lord
Trelingham
more
observant
,
Lady
May
and
the
artist
could
surely
never
have
spent
hour
after
hour
tête-à-tête
while
she
was
sitting
for
her
portrait
.
But
the
Earl
,
intent
on
dossals
and
mosaics
and
altar-flagons
,
had
not
a
moment
to
spare
in
the
morning
,
and
seldom
looked
in
,
although
from
time
to
time
he
inspected
the
picture
with
marked
satisfaction
.
The
Countess
moved
hither
and
thither
in
her
restless
way
,
came
and
went
,
threw
in
a
mocking
word
when
the
conversation
flew
above
her
comprehension
,
sat
dreaming
her
own
dreams
by
the
window
,
and
,
whether
from
negligence
or
wilfulness
,
turned
a
deaf
ear
to
most
that
was
said
.
She
could
not
,
therefore
,
be
supposed
to
perceive
how
artistic
discussion
and
talk
upon
general
topics
were
giving
way
to
more
intimate
personal
communings
,
at
least
on
the
part
of
Lady
May
,
and
that
mischief
was
gathering
.
She
had
her
own
reasons
,
perhaps
;
and
we
may
as
well
endeavour
to
find
them
out
.
Look
at
this
little
scene
.
It
was
a
mellow
afternoon
,
and
Tom
Davenant
,
weak
but
convalescent
,
was
sitting
propped
up
in
an
easy-chair
by
the
drawing-room
fire
.
It
was
the
first
day
he
had
left
his
room
.
Glanville
,
at
no
great
distance
,
was
writing
a
letter
;
Lady
May
,
engaged
upon
some
trailing
piece
of
embroidery
that
fell
about
her
feet
,
seemed
wholly
occupied
in
what
she
was
doing
,
and
neither
spoke
nor
looked
up
;
while
the
Countess
,
demurely
seated
where
she
could
keep
a
charitable
eye
on
the
invalid
,
was
wondering
how
she
might
persuade
him
to
talk
.
For
it
was
part
of
her
infatuation
to
like
the
sound
of
that
young
man
's
pleasant
but
not
astonishingly
musical
voice
.
Her
longing
was
to
be
satisfied
without
effort
on
her
side
.
Tom
laid
down
the
newspaper
he
was
holding
,
and
,
stifling
a
yawn
,
said
to
Glanville
,
whom
he
had
come
to
like
rather
:
'
The
worst
of
being
knocked
up
is
that
a
fellow
does
n't
know
what
to
do
with
himself
.
He
ca
n't
read
anything
except
the
Field
;
and
I
've
read
it
all
through
now
.
I
must
hark
back
,
I
suppose
,
and
see
whether
I
've
skipped
a
page
;
'
and
he
took
up
the
discarded
journal
again
.
'
Shall
I
read
to
you
,
Cousin
Tom
?
'
said
Karina
softly
.
'
No
,
thank
you
,
'
he
answered
;
adding
,
after
a
while
,
with
some
annoyance
in
his
tone
,
'
I
wish
,
Countess
,
you
would
get
out
of
that
way
of
calling
me
Cousin
Tom
.
You
know
I
have
n't
the
honour
of
being
your
cousin
,
and
it
is
stupid
.
'
The
Countess
blushed
,
but
attempted
a
smile
.
'
I
know
,
'
she
said
,
'
I
am
not
so
much
your
cousin
as
Lady
May
;
but
,
if
I
am
hers
,
you
ought
to
be
mine
.
Do
n't
you
think
so
,
Mr.
—
Mr.
Davenant
?
'
The
curious
mingling
of
sarcasm
,
fright
,
and
tenderness
with
which
the
Countess
uttered
his
name
thus
formally
was
worth
observing
.
Glanville
,
hitherto
intent
on
his
letter
,
began
to
feel
an
interest
in
the
little
comedy
.
He
knew
nothing
of
the
relation
in
which
the
Countess
stood
to
the
house
of
Trelingham
;
he
had
never
even
caught
her
family
name
.
To
the
servants
she
was
'
the
Countess'and
'
her
Ladyship
.
'
The
Earl
and
his
daughter
addressed
her
as
Karina
;
but
Tom
Davenant
,
as
it
now
struck
the
artist
,
at
all
times
spoke
to
her
as
'
Countess
,
'
and
never
bestowed
on
her
a
Christian
vocative
.
Sometimes
,
though
seldom
,
he
would
call
Lady
May
by
her
name
;
but
this
favour
was
witheld
from
the
light-tongued
Karina
.
'
Do
n't
I
think
so
?
'
echoed
Tom
.
'
Not
by
any
means
.
You
are
May
's
first
cousin
,
because
her
mother
and
yours
were
sisters
.
But
May
and
I
are
related
on
the
father
's
side
.
You
might
as
well
have
argued
that
your
husband
was
my
cousin
because
he
married
you
.
Poor
fellow
!
'
concluded
Tom
in
sympathetic
accents
,
—
but
whether
pitying
the
Countess
's
late
husband
(
she
was
a
widow
then
,
it
seemed
)
on
the
score
of
his
marriage
or
his
decease
,
Glanville
could
not
determine
.
'
Poor
fellow
!
'
sighed
the
Countess
;
'
I
know
you
liked
him
,
and
he
suffered
so
dreadfully
at
the
last
.
It
is
not
pleasant
dying
at
two
and
twenty
.
But
no
,
Mr.
—
Mr.
Davenant
,
'
she
observed
,
brightening
up
after
her
transient
expression
of
regret
;
'
the
Lutenieffs
are
too
proud
to
acknowledge
kinship
with
any
but
old
Russian
families
.
The
Countess
Lutenieff
never
forgave
me
for
being
half-English
.
She
threw
it
in
my
teeth
often
enough
.
'
'
Well
,
'
said
Tom
,
relenting
,
'
if
you
have
suffered
in
the
cause
,
I
suppose
it
is
fair
that
you
should
call
any
English
gentleman
you
choose
your
cousin
.
But
—
'
She
interrupted
him
.
'
Thank
you
so
much
,
Cousin
Tom
,
'
she
said
archly
,
though
with
contentment
in
her
looks
.
'
After
all
,
you
will
want
a
cousin
when
May
gives
up
that
dignity.'Tom
was
silent
,
but
turned
his
head
in
the
direction
of
the
real
cousin
.
If
she
heard
anything
,
she
made
no
sign
.
'
I
do
n't
know
what
you
are
talking
about
,
'
said
the
young
man
,
when
he
saw
that
Lady
May
paid
no
attention
to
the
Countess
.
'
It
seems
to
me
that
you
say
whatever
comes
into
your
head
.
I
shall
go
back
to
my
room
now
and
lie
down
.
This
fire
is
too
hot
,
and
I
ca
n't
smoke
here
if
I
want
.
'
The
Countess
begged
him
to
stay
;
she
would
take
the
coals
off
the
fire
;
she
would
open
a
window
so
that
he
should
not
feel
the
draught
.
But
her
entreaties
were
unavailing
.
Tom
walked
slowly
to
the
door
and
disappeared
.
When
he
was
gone
,
Glanville
,
who
had
not
relished
the
end
of
this
argument
,
and
feared
that
the
Countess
—
Lutenieff
,
since
that
was
her
name
—
might
follow
it
up
with
unpleasant
revelations
,
dashing
some
faint
but
idle
dreams
of
his
,
rose
,
and
passing
through
the
long
window
,
strolled
out
on
the
terrace
.
To
what
was
that
mischievous
sprite
alluding
?
How
could
Lady
May
cease
to
be
Tom
's
cousin
?
By
marrying
him
?
There
was
no
other
way
.
Glanville
recalled
her
father
's
look
that
night
when
Tom
was
brought
home
from
Yalden
.
He
had
not
thought
of
it
since
.
The
cousins
were
so
little
together
,
and
his
attention
had
been
drawn
so
strongly
to
Karina
's
worship
of
Tom
Davenant
,
that
the
idea
of
an
engagement
between
him
and
Lady
May
had
completely
vanished
.
'
Well
,
what
if
it
were
true
?
'
he
asked
himself
.
'
How
did
that
concern
him
?
'
Not
a
great
deal
,
his
conscience
replied
.
Should
he
feel
mortified
,
or
vexed
,
if
the
lady
wedded
her
cousin
?
Why
,
yes
;
he
must
admit
it
would
be
a
disappointment
.
But
would
his
heart
be
broken
?
Did
he
feel
that
life
would
have
lost
its
sweetness
were
she
married
?
There
was
no
answering
throb
.
His
heart
was
sound
,
apparently
.
He
would
think
it
over
in
the
presence
of
Lady
May
;
perhaps
the
calmness
he
felt
was
deceptive
.
And
so
deciding
,
he
approached
the
window
.
Scarcely
had
he
come
within
earshot
than
the
Countess
's
laughing
voice
broke
on
him
.
She
spoke
rapidly
,
and
the
sentence
,
complete
in
meaning
,
struck
at
once
into
his
understanding
and
stayed
there
.
'
But
if
you
do
n't
care
for
Tom
,
you
must
refuse
him.'Such
were
the
words
.
She
was
clearly
addressing
Lady
May
.
Glanville
fled
to
the
other
end
of
the
terrace
;
he
was
aghast
at
having
heard
what
was
not
intended
for
his
hearing
.
To
forget
the
sentence
was
,
however
,
impossible
.
The
Countess
had
spoken
in
loud
tones
,
but
her
laugh
sounded
unnatural
and
her
voice
was
sharp
and
peremptory
.
It
seemed
to
insist
on
a
thing
which
was
not
certain
to
be
conceded
.
Could
there
be
an
engagement
,
and
Lady
May
so
little
anxious
about
her
betrothed
,
so
free
from
jealousy
of
the
Countess
,
so
much
—
he
paused
for
the
right
word
—
interested
in
another
?
Next
day
when
they
were
in
the
picture-gallery
,
he
found
himself
insensibly
leading
to
the
subject
.
'
It
is
strange
,
Lady
May
,
'
said
he
,
'
that
I
never
heard
the
Countess
's
family
name
till
yesterday
.
'
'
Did
you
not
?
'
she
inquired
;
'
I
can
fancy
it
,
however
.
My
Cousin
Karina
has
been
so
constantly
with
us
from
childhood
,
and
her
marriage
lasted
so
short
a
time
,
that
we
hardly
think
of
her
as
a
Lutenieff
.
Her
own
name
,
which
we
never
liked
,
was
Karen
Zarkoff
.
My
aunt
married
a
Zarkoff
;
but
he
need
not
have
disfigured
his
daughter
by
calling
her
Karen
.
So
we
changed
it
when
she
came
to
us
quite
young
to
Karina
,
spelling
it
with
a
K
to
make
it
look
Russian
.
She
lost
both
parents
before
she
could
speak
.
Her
guardian
sent
her
to
England
until
she
was
sixteen
,
and
then
had
her
taken
back
to
the
Ukraine
to
marry
Count
Lutenieff
,
whom
she
had
never
seen
in
her
life
.
There
was
no
help
for
it
.
But
she
cried
at
leaving
my
Cousin
Tom
,
who
had
been
her
idol
ever
since
she
played
with
him
and
me
during
a
summer
holiday
,
when
we
were
all
three
in
this
house
,
as
we
are
now
.
Nevertheless
,
she
liked
her
husband
after
they
were
married
;
he
was
a
gentle
,
consumptive
young
man
,
greatly
attached
to
her
and
to
Mr.
Davenant
,
who
visited
them
in
Russia
.
At
eighteen
she
became
a
widow
,
and
is
,
in
a
measure
,
my
father
's
ward
.
But
she
does
what
she
pleases
,
and
is
always
on
the
wing
;
for
to
reason
with
her
or
to
keep
her
in
one
place
is
impossible
.
'
'
And
Mr.
Davenant
?
'
said
Glanville
,
controlling
his
voice
lest
it
should
betray
undue
curiosity
.
'
His
father
is
not
living
?
'
'
No
;
he
died
years
ago
,
soon
after
his
marriage
.
My
father
spoke
of
him
the
first
morning
you
were
here
.
He
married
late
.
Mr.
Davenant
is
strictly
under
my
father
's
guardianship
till
he
comes
of
age
,
which
will
be
in
some
months
.
You
see
,
'
she
went
on
,
'
Mr
.
Davenant
is
heir-presumptive
to
the
title
and
esatates
of
Trelingham
;
and
so
,
'
she
said
,
laughing
,
'
he
requires
to
be
taken
great
care
of
.
He
has
a
place
of
his
own
in
the
next
county
,
but
he
does
not
stay
there
,
except
in
the
shooting
season
.
He
will
make
an
excellent
landlord
,
however
,
when
he
begins
.
But
at
present
he
is
wild
about
sport
.
He
came
to
Trelingham
to
join
in
the
salmon-hunt
which
was
so
unluckily
hindered
by
his
accident
.
'
All
this
,
told
in
a
calm
way
,
was
interesting
,
but
it
threw
no
light
on
the
question
whether
Lady
May
and
her
cousin
were
engaged
.
One
point
only
seemed
certain
.
Tom
Davenant
might
be
the
idol
of
the
Lady
Karina
's
affections
as
much
as
he
pleased
or
,
very
likely
,
did
not
please
;
to
the
Earl
's
daughter
he
was
a
cousin
and
nothing
more
.
She
spoke
of
him
readily
,
without
changing
tone
or
colour
,
she
lauded
his
manliness
,
and
at
the
same
time
laughingly
applied
to
him
the
charming
words
of
her
poet
—
'
It
are
such
folk
that
loved
idlenesse
,
And
not
delite
hadde
of
no
businesse
,
But
for
to
hunt
and
hauke
,
and
play
in
medes
,
And
many
other
such
idle
dedes
.
'
That
negligent
chaperon
,
the
Countess
,
who
had
slipped
away
at
the
beginning
of
this
conference
,
now
returned
;
and
there
came
an
interval
of
silence
,
during
which
,
if
many
fine
strokes
were
added
to
the
face
that
was
growing
perfect
on
canvas
,
not
a
few
went
deep
into
the
heart
of
one
,
at
least
,
in
that
speechless
company
.
And
now
,
reader
,
I
will
draw
away
the
curtain
,
and
,
with
such
skill
as
I
may
,
endeavour
to
disclose
the
inward
meaning
of
this
simple
and
oft-repeated
scene
in
the
picture-gallery
at
Trelingham
Court
.
What
could
eyes
behold
?
On
the
one
hand
a
lady
,
in
the
dark
crimson
,
curiously
embroidered
with
gold
,
which
vested
the
Madonna
of
the
Seraphim
,
and
was
here
in
some
artistic
drapery
imitated
,
—
a
lady
,
I
say
,
seated
where
the
light
fell
on
her
meditative
,
earnest
brow
,
glowing
features
,
and
massive
dark
hair
arranged
as
in
a
crown
,
her
whole
attitude
one
of
reflection
and
yet
suggesting
a
concentrated
passionateness
which
,
when
she
spoke
or
acted
,
would
manifest
itself
daringly
;
and
on
the
other
,
moving
lightly
about
the
easel
,
glancing
at
the
seated
figure
from
time
to
time
,
smiling
a
little
as
he
turned
to
lay
on
a
colour
,
and
murmuring
to
himself
in
the
painters'dialect
,
a
young
man
,
of
good
height
and
graceful
mien
,
of
ruddy
countenance
too
,
like
the
lady
,
but
,
unlike
her
,
with
the
yellow
hair
of
the
Norsemen
or
the
Greeks
,
the
sleeves
of
his
velvet
coat
turned
up
over
fine
wristbands
,
and
a
certain
air
of
distinction
,
of
dainty
though
not
effeminate
carefulness
in
all
his
attire
,
which
threw
into
strong
relief
the
genius
shining
out
of
his
bright
and
steady
eyes
.
He
was
at
once
an
artist
,
a
refined
man
of
the
world
,
and
an
athletic
,
well-knit
figure
of
youth
and
comeliness
;
one
in
whom
the
balance
of
thought
and
fancy
,
of
reason
and
instinct
would
seem
incapable
of
being
over-thrown
.
The
shade
of
melancholy
which
came
,
like
a
passing
cloud
,
across
his
countenance
when
he
was
not
speaking
added
that
indescribable
touch
,
that
dim
sense
of
the
imperfection
hidden
in
all
fair
things
,
apart
from
which
we
may
admire
and
be
dazzled
with
the
splendour
of
a
face
,
but
do
not
feed
our
heart
upon
it
.
A
pleasant
sight
,
you
will
say
,
and
worthy
of
its
surroundings
in
that
stately
room
,
where
the
portraits
of
three
centuries
looked
from
the
walls
,
various
in
costume
,
feature
,
and
bearing
,
yet
a
gracious
assemblage
of
old
and
young
,
of
knights
and
ladies
,
of
warriors
,
statesmen
,
ambassadors
,
recalling
confusedly
the
life
of
court
and
camp
in
which
they
had
acted
their
part
till
life
's
poor
play
was
o'er
.
In
front
of
the
great
windows
lay
the
wild
moor
,
beautiful
in
desolation
,
framed
in
the
silver
sea
,
which
,
now
at
peace
,
sent
up
its
multitudionous
voices
in
a
murmuring
chorus
that
whispered
things
sweet
and
strange
.
The
lady
sank
,
and
sank
,
and
sank
into
deeper
reverie
.
She
listened
to
the
echoes
in
her
heart
of
all
that
had
been
in
the
past
,
began
a
sentence
to
let
it
fall
unfinished
,
and
mused
upon
the
many
days
she
had
spent
alone
.
She
had
been
asked
in
marriage
—
by
whom
?
By
men
whose
birth
and
breeding
,
equal
to
her
own
,
carried
with
it
an
outward
semblance
of
perfection
,
but
implied
neither
deep
feeling
nor
elevated
thought
,
nor
enthusiasm
for
anything
in
earth
or
heaven
except
their
free
open-air
life
,
their
horses
and
dogs
,
their
yachts
in
the
Solent
and
rivers
in
Norway
.
Yes
,
she
had
not
wanted
suitors
of
a
different
kind
either
,
—
solemn-faced
men
,
with
brains
as
unpromising
as
Nimrod
's
,
but
whose
narrow
vision
took
in
objects
less
picturesque
;
her
father
's
friends
,
lay
or
clerical
,
who
asked
her
to
share
their
destiny
and
help
to
build
schools
in
the
East
End
,
and
churches
at
Earl
's
Court
or
Stoke
Newington
,
to
weave
ecclesiastical
garments
according
to
the
use
of
Sarum
,
and
save
mankind
by
acres
of
broadcloth
fashioned
into
coats
of
the
strictest
orthodoxy
.
She
smiled
at
the
notion
;
but
her
feeling
was
bitter
enough
.
Riches
,
leisure
,
friends
,
the
most
delightful
surroundings
had
been
given
her
by
Fortune
.
She
was
a
great
lady
,
to
be
envied
and
courted
.
But
all
these
things
were
the
embroidery
of
life
;
she
wanted
the
simple
greatness
which
comes
of
knowing
and
loving
,
not
a
gorgeous
frame
about
the
poor
genre
painting
,
which
was
all
she
had
to
show
.
How
can
a
woman
be
noble
,
she
asked
herself
,
except
by
uniting
her
life
to
another
which
is
governed
by
the
highest
thoughts
?
She
could
have
devoted
herself
to
a
father
,
to
a
brother
,
if
she
had
one
,
provided
only
he
were
intent
on
realising
a
great
ideal
.
But
her
father
's
ideal
?
It
did
not
tempt
her
.
It
was
nothing
but
the
digging
up
of
old
grave-clothes
and
multiplication
of
minutiæ
;
it
was
insular
,
parochial
,
sectarian
.
She
had
long
felt
that
the
controversies
of
little
or
no
meaning
which
went
on
in
her
presence
,
and
to
which
she
was
obliged
to
listen
,
were
driving
her
in
the
opposite
direction
to
her
father
;
and
,
though
she
would
not
afflict
him
by
disclosing
what
had
taken
place
within
her
,
she
saw
clearly
that
,
perhaps
for
want
of
the
right
teacher
,
the
religion
in
which
she
had
been
brought
up
had
become
to
her
merley
a
name
.
It
gave
her
no
principles
,
it
had
ceased
to
be
the
rule
of
her
conduct
.
She
longed
for
a
light
from
Heaven
;
she
did
not
remember
that
it
sometimes
leads
astray
.
Unhappy
she
was
and
had
been
;
dissatisfied
,
sick
with
longing
for
a
world
of
which
,
in
poem
or
romance
,
the
outline
was
revealed
like
a
cloud
hanging
steadfast
,
shining
sun-bathed
in
the
infinite
blue
.
Was
it
all
an
impossible
dream
?
Even
so
,
she
could
not
renounce
it
.
To
bend
her
gaze
on
the
earth
,
and
putting
her
hand
into
that
of
a
man
whose
thoughts
were
fashioned
of
its
gross
elements
;
to
travel
on
and
on
,
over
the
barren
moor
,
with
no
prospect
before
her
but
the
waste
and
sundown
,
was
to
die
ere
her
prime
.
She
was
resolved
to
drink
of
the
fountain
of
life
.
She
cared
nothing
for
station
,
and
heeded
little
of
the
world
's
judgment
on
those
that
descend
.
Unworthy
she
would
not
be
,
nor
undutiful
to
her
father
.
'
But
I
must
live
,
I
must
live
,
'
she
often
repeated
when
alone
.
To
sit
at
the
great
banquet
a
spectator
;
to
find
every
dish
enchanted
of
which
she
desired
to
partake
;
to
hear
the
music
and
not
know
its
meaning
,
—
this
had
been
her
martyrdom
,
and
she
could
bear
it
no
longer
.
I
cannot
tell
what
might
have
befallen
Lady
May
if
the
higher
powers
had
shuffled
the
cards
otherwise
than
they
did
,
and
not
Glanville
,
but
a
person
of
less
scrupulous
delicacy
had
come
across
her
in
this
despairing
mood
.
To
represent
her
as
perfect
would
be
pleasant
to
me
;
but
she
was
not
perfect
;
she
was
headstrong
,
passionate
,
imperious
,
and
,
from
the
absence
of
equally
determined
characters
around
her
,
she
had
,
by
long
habit
,
become
utterly
independent
of
control
.
She
loved
her
father
dearly
;
but
she
was
too
clear-minded
to
regard
his
opinions
with
intellectual
deference
.
And
there
was
no
one
else
.
Her
cousin
,
Tom
Davenant
,
she
looked
upon
as
a
man
with
the
simplicity
of
a
boy
;
he
was
her
junior
by
six
years
,
and
the
thoughts
that
vexed
her
would
have
been
to
him
as
unintelligible
as
the
language
of
another
planet
.
Did
she
want
a
chivalrous
protector
,
he
would
have
sprung
to
her
aid
;
but
she
wanted
no
such
thing
;
what
she
wanted
was
to
go
her
own
way
.
She
guessed
her
cousin
's
mind
;
partly
out
of
consideration
for
him
she
was
now
pausing
on
the
path
she
had
entered
;
but
she
did
not
mean
to
be
affected
by
his
generosity
.
When
her
mother
died
,
Lord
Trelingham
had
thought
it
right
to
acquaint
Mrs.
Davenant
with
his
resolution
not
to
marry
again
.
He
wished
Tom
to
know
on
what
he
might
count
in
the
future
.
Tom
,
who
was
then
nineteen
,
sought
an
interview
with
the
Earl
,
and
with
unspeakable
confusion
,
but
very
decidedly
,
begged
him
so
to
arrange
that
the
Trelingham
estate
might
go
to
Lady
May
.
It
was
a
generous
impulse
,
dictated
by
a
good
heart
and
ignorance
of
the
legal
impossibilities
which
stood
in
the
way
.
The
proposal
could
not
be
entertained
.
But
Tom
had
gone
further
than
Lady
May
was
aware
.
The
young
man
,
finding
one
door
shut
,
had
tried
another
.
He
had
asked
Lord
Trelingham
to
accept
a
proposal
of
marriage
for
his
daughter
,
and
to
lay
it
before
her
when
he
should
judge
expedient
.
He
had
been
brief
and
manly
,
saying
little
of
his
affection
for
Lady
May
,
which
,
however
,
was
apparent
enough
.
He
had
consented
to
wait
until
he
came
of
age
;
and
,
trusting
implicitly
in
the
Earl
's
honour
,
had
quietly
gone
home
and
shot
partridges
.
That
something
would
be
said
to
her
when
he
was
twenty-one
,
the
lady
surmised
.
She
had
,
or
soon
would
have
,
her
answer
ready
.
For
,
wandering
listlessly
through
the
exhibitions
of
painting
that
make
London
a
huge
picture-gallery
,
she
had
been
struck
one
day
with
a
drawing
of
extraordinary
breadth
of
power
and
splendid
execution
,
to
which
corresponded
in
the
catalogue
the
name
of
a
young
man
who
had
leapt
into
fame
at
single
bound
some
three
years
previously
.
For
all
description
of
the
piece
were
a
line
and
a
half
from
Wordsworth
—
'
Or
lady
of
the
mere
,
Sole
sitting
by
the
shore
of
old
romance
.
'
The
rest
of
the
gallery
vanished
from
Lady
May
.
She
saw
nothing
but
the
wide
woodland
scene
and
the
dim
gray
waters
stretching
away
and
away
till
no
eye
could
follow
,
so
distant
was
the
gleam
of
the
horizon
,
so
many
the
foldings
of
the
cloud
which
,
with
a
flake
of
sunshine
gilding
it
faintly
,
hung
like
a
vision
of
dreams
between
sea
and
sky
.
There
was
something
weird
,
ghostlike
,
unsatisfying
in
the
appearance
of
that
untenanted
realm
,
where
the
elements
reigned
supreme
,
yet
were
themselves
all
unsubstantial
—
dim
air
,
gray
water
,
a
hidden
sun
.
But
on
the
shore
,
her
bare
feet
just
touching
the
waves
as
they
rolled
indolently
to
where
she
sat
,
was
a
figure
,
so
radiant
with
life
and
longing
,
of
such
exquisite
shape
and
lovely
countenance
that
the
spectator
drew
back
,
as
if
intruding
on
a
queen
's
privacy
,
yet
was
drawn
again
in
wonder
to
the
wistful
eyes
,
full
of
an
intense
desire
which
sought
and
could
not
attain
its
object
.
It
would
be
hard
to
express
in
language
the
contrast
between
that
eager
,
throbbing
life
and
the
gray
visions
whereon
it
was
feeding
.
Had
but
a
youthful
knight
come
breaking
through
the
wild
and
careless
brambles
which
closed
her
in
on
one
side
,
or
riding
along
the
green
forest
path
low
down
in
the
background
on
the
other
,
it
might
have
seemed
that
the
artist
was
reproducing
the
old
tale
of
Arthur
and
the
brand
Excalibur
,
given
him
by
the
lady
of
the
mere
.
But
there
would
come
to
this
lady
no
King
Arthur
;
she
was
beholding
a
vision
unfulfilled
—
never
,
on
any
day
,
to
be
fulfilled
.
And
yet
how
beauteous
,
how
young
a
life
,
to
be
consumed
in
gazing
,
to
be
denied
fruition
!
Lady
May
read
the
picture
like
her
own
story
.
She
detected
in
it
something
which
was
not
medieval
,
a
kind
of
irony
,
bitter
and
sad
,
not
intended
by
the
poet
when
he
wrote
his
magic
verses
,
but
perhaps
of
a
deeper
truth
;
for
was
not
the
romance
he
celebrated
an
idle
thing
,
dedicating
itself
to
sonnets
and
madrigals
,
and
the
ceremonies
of
the
Court
of
Love
?
Behind
its
wan
clouds
the
sun
was
shining
,
eclipsed
only
by
them
.
'
Unsatisfied
ideals
,
'
she
said
,
as
she
turned
away
;
'
did
the
painter
mean
to
warn
us
that
Love
can
be
contented
only
with
Life
,
not
with
shadows
?
'
This
picture
was
her
book
of
Hours
,
her
philosophy
,
for
many
a
day
.
She
lived
in
it
;
she
saw
its
every
detail
,
and
could
have
drawn
it
from
memory
.
As
soon
as
her
mind
would
let
her
,
she
begged
Lord
Trelingham
to
purchase
the
drawing
;
but
it
had
made
a
great
impression
and
was
already
sold
.
The
intelligence
grieved
her
like
a
personal
loss
,
and
she
began
to
haunt
the
galleries
where
other
works
of
Rupert
Glanville
's
were
on
view
.
She
had
not
been
deceived
in
ranking
him
neither
among
the
votaries
of
religious
medievalism
,
nor
with
the
school
of
sentimental
landscape
,
so
to
call
it
,
which
has
grown
out
of
the
study
of
the
Middle
Ages
by
men
whose
creed
may
be
summed
up
in
the
words
,
'
Sin
and
be
sad.'When
Glanville
chose
a
medieval
subject
,
he
treated
it
like
one
to
whom
larger
worlds
were
known
;
he
was
free
,
ironical
,
and
,
as
the
critics
said
sometimes
,
joyously
pagan
.
What
he
painted
was
full
of
life
;
life
,
running
over
at
the
brim
,
energetic
,
bold
,
adventurous
,
taking
the
infinite
resources
of
existence
for
granted
.
But
his
pictures
had
in
them
nothing
sensuous
or
over
soft
;
they
did
not
represent
joy
as
the
intoxication
of
a
Silenus
,
still
less
did
they
affect
the
morbidezza
,
the
pallid
waxen
tints
which
in
their
excessive
refinement
denote
that
the
artist
has
sought
beauty
in
decline
and
is
enamoured
of
consumption
.
Glanville
's
art
was
healthy
;
one
might
almost
have
called
it
,
to
use
the
philosopher
's
jargon
,
optimist
.
But
,
as
in
the
drawing
which
had
first
made
him
known
to
Lady
May
,
so
in
all
he
painted
,
there
were
suggestions
of
the
infinite
unseen
,
the
mysterious
and
strangely
possible
.
He
,
too
,
it
was
apparent
,
sought
and
had
not
found
.
His
ideal
,
like
hers
,
was
behind
the
clouds
.
She
came
unexpectedly
on
a
small
picture
of
his
in
a
friend
's
drawing-room
,
and
acknowledged
,
by
the
violence
of
her
emotion
,
that
she
was
falling
in
love
with
the
unknown
artist
.
Did
she
think
of
subduing
her
passion
,
of
putting
away
his
remembrance
?
With
all
her
force
of
character
,
and
in
spite
of
her
wide
attainment
and
unusual
gifts
,
May
Davenant
was
a
very
woman
.
She
could
do
much
;
she
could
not
forget
,
So
,
at
least
,
she
told
her
conscience
when
it
warned
her
against
caring
about
a
man
she
had
never
seen
.
Might
he
not
be
low-born
,
ill-educated
,
anything
but
charming
to
look
at
?
this
worldly-wise
conscience
inquired
.
She
did
not
believe
it
possible
.
No
,
his
mind
must
be
equal
to
his
paintings
;
and
what
did
the
rest
signify
?
His
mind
was
himself
;
birth
and
appearance
,
good
or
ill
,
were
but
accessories
.
However
,
she
would
ask
and
be
satisfied
.
Her
father
had
a
multitiude
of
friends
in
the
world
of
art
.
She
invited
one
of
them
to
dinner
,
was
very
gracious
to
him
in
the
drawing-room
,
and
put
her
important
questions
among
a
sheaf
of
others
,
trivial
,
but
sufficient
to
blind
the
deluded
artist
,
who
flattered
himself
that
he
was
always
welcome
where
ladies
ruled
.
'
Did
he
know
Glanville
?
'
—
'
Oh
yes
,
had
met
him
several
times
;
goodish
sort
of
artist
;
made
some
lucky
hits
;
was
rather
too
deep
for
him
,
you
know
,
but
clever
—
decidedly
.
'
—
'
Much
in
society
?
'
—
'
A
good
deal
,
he
should
say
;
met
him
in
the
best
houses
,
where
he
was
a
favourite
;
could
tell
capital
stories
,
not
too
long
;
was
not
bad-looking
;
sang
and
played
a
little
;
fancied
he
came
from
somewhere
on
the
Welsh
border
—
Herefordshire
,
Shropshire
,
that
way
;
had
been
told
he
was
of
good
family
,
all
extinct
but
himself
;
not
a
bad
thing
when
one
's
family
was
all
extinct
but
one
's
self
,
provided
they
mentioned
one
in
their
wills
,
ha
,
ha
!
'
—
'
Rich
,
did
he
suppose
?
'
—
'
Why
,
not
,
you
know
,
rich
,
but
landed
proprietor
,
that
sort
of
thing
,
etc.
etc.'Lady
May
,
having
squeezed
this
sponge
,
left
him
dry
,
but
not
discontent
,
to
the
care
of
others
;
and
told
her
conscience
it
might
now
keep
quiet
,
which
it
did
for
a
while
,
being
terrified
at
a
domineering
way
she
sometimes
used
towards
it
.
By
and
by
it
would
take
courage
and
speak
again
.
She
might
make
his
acquaintance
,
then
,
if
she
wished
,
and
ask
him
to
dinner
,
like
his
loquacious
brother-artist
?
Yes
,
and
then
?
How
much
was
she
likely
to
see
or
know
of
him
in
a
London
dining-room
,
or
during
a
London
season
?
She
wanted
more
than
that
.
He
must
be
worthy
of
her
friendship
;
nay
,
could
she
be
certain
that
she
was
worthy
of
his
?
She
began
to
consider
.
Conscience
,
whispering
maliciously
somewhere
within
,
hissed
out
,
'
the
Belle
's
Stratagem
.
'
She
laughed
;
she
was
in
a
good
humour
,
and
would
see
whether
a
stratagem
were
possible
.
Glanville
must
come
to
the
house
,
must
stay
with
them
long
enough
to
reveal
his
character
as
fully
as
she
desired
.
How
could
it
be
accomplished
?
She
had
got
so
far
in
her
meditation
when
Lord
Trelingham
came
to
her
with
the
plans
which
various
artists
had
submitted
for
decorating
their
Great
Hall
.
Her
father
wanted
the
Arthurian
legend
painted
on
his
walls
,
for
it
was
a
proud
tradition
that
the
Trelinghams
were
children
of
Uther
.
He
had
long
meant
to
begin
the
work
,
and
it
was
now
high
time
,
if
he
was
to
see
it
executed
at
all
.
The
Great
Hall
,
Arthur
,
Launcelot
,
the
Lady
of
the
Lake
!
It
was
all
nature
could
do
to
stifle
a
cry
.
To
hide
her
feelings
May
looked
at
the
designs
on
the
table
.
Not
one
but
was
inspired
by
the
Idylls
of
the
King
—
pretty
,
fantastic
,
old-faced
,
so
to
speak
,
but
the
only
genius
perceptible
was
Tennyson
's
.
She
swept
them
on
one
side
.
'
Mr
.
Glanville
's
is
your
artist
,
papa
,
'
she
boldly
said
.
The
Earl
thought
for
a
minute
or
two
.
He
knew
Mr.
Glanville
's
productions
well
;
strangely
enough
,
he
liked
them
.
In
design
they
were
bold
and
clear
;
in
execution
,
it
was
agreed
on
all
hands
,
they
were
admirable
.
'
I
will
call
on
Mr.
Glanville
at
his
studio
,
'
said
the
good
man
finally
.
When
the
door
closed
behind
him
,
Lady
May
sank
down
trembling
on
her
chair
.
What
had
she
done
?
This
was
the
first
of
many
interviews
which
Lord
Trelingham
held
with
Glanville
,
who
never
showed
to
such
advantage
as
in
adapting
himself
to
men
from
whom
he
entirely
differed
.
Valuing
his
own
opinions
too
highly
to
bestow
them
on
every
chance
comer
,
and
not
preaching
them
save
by
the
indirect
methods
of
art
,
the
young
man
took
pleasure
in
observing
how
variously
the
world
appeared
in
other
men
's
eyes
;
and
he
was
therefore
attentive
to
the
Earl
and
charmed
him
in
turn
.
To
accept
the
commission
,
though
brilliant
,
was
another
question
.
He
did
not
want
for
money
or
fame
;
he
hesitated
to
leave
London
for
so
many
months
as
the
task
would
demand
;
and
he
doubted
that
Lord
Trelingham
would
enter
into
his
conception
of
the
cycle
of
the
Morte
d'Arthur
,
which
was
more
rugged
,
primitive
,
and
barbaric
,
but
also
of
larger
scope
and
nearer
,
as
he
believed
,
to
the
roots
of
life
and
reality
,
than
the
current
interpretation
.
To
his
surprise
,
the
formal
ritualist
did
enter
into
his
thought
,
—
thanks
very
possibly
to
Mr.
Truscombe
,
whose
volume
,
then
about
to
be
published
,
had
been
seen
by
the
Earl
in
manuscript
,
and
whose
sturdy
realism
had
one
element
,
at
all
events
,
in
common
with
Glanville
's
more
elevated
historical
views
.
Thus
encountering
no
resistance
where
he
had
looked
for
it
,
and
captivated
by
the
mingled
courtliness
and
good
nature
of
the
old
man
,
Glanville
consented
to
pay
a
visit
to
Trelingham
,
and
,
after
seeing
the
Great
Hall
,
to
lay
his
designs
(
of
which
he
drew
out
a
lucid
sketch
)
before
him
.
He
did
not
propose
to
call
on
the
Earl
in
town
;
it
was
a
busy
time
when
his
engagements
stood
six
deep
,
and
he
must
add
to
them
if
he
intended
an
early
departure
.
Lord
Trelingham
felt
relieved
.
He
had
suggested
to
Lady
May
,
after
his
first
visit
,
that
she
should
ask
the
artist
to
dinner
,
and
she
,
a
good
deal
to
his
surprise
,
had
not
exactly
declined
,
but
put
it
off
,
saying
that
it
did
not
matter
and
they
should
have
as
much
as
they
wanted
of
him
in
the
country
.
It
was
a
fancy
on
her
part
to
begin
their
friendship
away
from
London
,
in
a
less
artificial
atmosphere
.
The
key-note
of
an
acquaintance
is
so
often
struck
in
the
first
conversation
,
and
how
often
wrong
!
Mr.
Glanville
would
surely
come
to
Trelingham
;
and
,
with
a
light
heart
,
she
delayed
the
dawn
of
a
day
whose
varying
fortunes
she
could
by
no
means
have
guessed
at
.
Resolute
,
however
,
she
was
in
turning
over
this
new
leaf
,
that
looked
so
fair
in
its
gold-illumined
border
,
of
the
book
of
her
fate
.
She
would
have
blushed
for
shame
had
her
intention
pointed
in
the
direction
for
which
a
hard
,
practical
world
would
have
given
her
credit
.
So
rude
and
gross
are
the
maxims
upon
which
social
arrangements
are
calculated
that
the
motives
of
a
lady
,
at
the
age
of
twenty-six
,
and
still
unmarried
,
who
takes
an
interest
in
a
young
unmarried
genius
,
seem
even
to
the
fair-minded
,
suspicious
or
self-evident
.
What
can
she
want
except
to
marry
him
?
And
there
is
much
to
be
said
for
that
view
.
Nevertheless
,
she
does
not
always
want
to
marry
him
;
she
may
be
seeking
an
object
of
admiration
,
of
worship
,
which
is
not
compatible
at
all
times
with
marriage
;
or
a
friend
to
share
her
better
thoughts
;
or
simply
a
comrade
whose
amusing
manners
would
be
lost
outside
the
circle
of
a
numerous
society
by
the
domestic
hearth
.
All
this
will
be
conceded
by
the
philosopher
who
sees
in
life
deeper
problems
than
those
of
ordinary
match-making
;
but
even
he
,
the
wise
observer
,
will
shake
his
head
when
enthusiasm
mounts
so
fast
as
it
did
in
the
bosom
of
Lady
May
.
She
,
to
her
own
seeming
,
had
left
behind
her
the
'
land
of
white
and
green
,
'
the
velvet-footed
flower-besprinkled
vally
where
youths
and
maidens
choose
one
another
;
she
was
,
and
meant
to
continue
,
an
'
old
maid
.
'
She
did
not
call
it
the
state
of
single
blessedness
;
it
was
only
not
so
miserable
as
would
have
been
a
life
spent
with
any
of
the
suitors
that
had
come
to
her
.
What
she
did
ask
,
had
it
ever
been
possible
,
was
the
'
marriage
of
true
minds
,
'
which
is
the
inward
grace
of
all
outward
union
between
man
and
woman
.
She
dreamt
now
that
in
Rupert
Glanville
was
such
a
true
mind
as
she
had
hitherto
sought
in
vain
;
but
the
time
of
marriage
was
past
.
With
a
sigh
she
looked
back
,
and
once
more
the
land
of
white
and
green
,
the
daisies
and
fresh
springing
grass
,
had
melted
into
reminiscences
of
early
youth
.
Glanville
was
unwedded
;
but
he
might
still
be
her
friend
,
and
teach
her
something
better
than
to
feed
on
romance
.
I
daresay
the
reader
will
experience
some
contempt
for
Lady
May
,
on
hearing
that
a
friendship
like
this
,
pitched
just
right
between
high
and
low
,
appeared
in
her
eyes
a
state
of
life
to
which
she
and
Glanville
might
be
called
.
And
yet
she
thought
so
.
Inbred
modesty
would
have
forbidden
her
to
take
steps
towards
securing
a
lover
;
but
how
could
it
interfere
with
her
winning
a
friend
?
Conscience
,
perplexed
,
though
not
entirely
convinced
,
lay
down
to
sleep
again
.
The
sacred
epochs
of
fashion
were
passing
quickly
by
.
Lord
Trelingham
,
who
usually
observed
these
times
and
seasons
as
he
did
Easter
and
Saints'-days
,
—
although
he
never
had
witnessed
a
horse-race
or
owned
a
yacht
,
—
went
down
early
with
Lady
May
to
his
country-seat
,
and
summoned
Mr.
Truscombe
to
advise
him
in
the
selection
of
historic
scenes
for
the
Great
Hall
.
Rupert
Glanville
likewise
,
as
if
he
were
acting
of
his
own
free
will
,
and
there
were
no
Lady
May
in
existence
,
took
his
ticket
for
Yalden
on
a
certain
morning
,
and
,
in
so
doing
,
burnt
his
ships
.
There
was
no
going
back
the
same
man
that
he
came
.
Thus
,
at
the
end
of
a
month
,
we
find
these
two
in
the
picture-gallery
:
Rupert
,
master
of
himself
,
uncertain
whether
he
cares
for
the
lady
,
certain
that
he
does
not
care
with
any
overwhelming
passion
;
and
she
already
doubting
whether
to
bind
herself
to
friendship
and
nothing
beyond
,
or
yield
to
this
new
absorbing
influence
which
is
wrapping
her
all
round
in
its
golden
haze
.
To
yield
?
But
,
if
he
should
think
of
her
only
a
friend
,
would
it
not
be
planting
a
dagger
in
her
bosom
,
never
to
be
withdrawn
?
He
was
courteous
,
attentive
,
full
of
pleasant
wisdom
,
open
as
the
day
.
He
would
have
been
a
perfect
brother
.
Was
that
the
whole
of
it
?
She
longed
and
feared
and
grew
uneasy
,
and
could
find
no
rest
.
She
knew
,
what
Rupert
,
being
only
a
man
,
was
not
likely
to
perceive
,
that
Karina
Lutenieff
watched
them
;
that
she
would
have
encouraged
,
had
she
dared
,
an
affection
which
to
her
meant
the
surrender
,
by
her
cousin
,
of
Tom
Davenant
.
When
the
Countess
spoke
in
the
drawing-room
about
Lady
May
's
giving
up
the
dignity
of
cousinhood
,
she
was
moved
by
a
mischievous
desire
to
irritate
all
three
who
were
sitting
there
.
She
had
said
,
petulantly
enough
,
when
the
gentlemen
left
,
that
it
was
a
shame
Lady
May
did
not
at
once
refuse
Tom
Davenant
,
since
she
seemed
not
to
care
for
him
.
And
Lady
May
had
answered
,
'
Will
you
not
allow
me
to
wait
till
I
am
asked
?
'
For
though
the
Countess
was
afraid
,
and
her
cousin
suspected
,
that
something
would
occur
on
Mr.
Davenant
's
coming
of
age
,
neither
of
them
knew
of
his
having
already
made
a
proposal
in
set
terms
.
There
were
moments
,
during
these
days
of
bewilderment
and
growing
trouble
,
when
Lady
May
,
as
she
sat
listening
to
Rupert
,
seemed
to
catch
glimpses
of
a
nobler
order
of
things
,
where
friendship
and
not
love
should
be
the
primal
element
,
—
rifts
in
her
golden
haze
through
which
the
pure
heavens
were
seen
like
unchanging
sapphire
,
a
great
,
free
,
illimitable
world
,
passionless
,
tranquil
,
clear
as
the
morning
dawn
.
They
came
when
he
spoke
of
the
artist
's
enthusiasm
,
of
his
yearning
to
express
the
unseen
beauty
which
haunted
his
steps
and
whispered
in
his
ear
,
and
vanished
so
soon
as
he
turned
his
head
to
look
upon
her
.
Or
again
,
when
he
descanted
on
the
secret
loveliness
of
landscape
,
its
infinite
meanings
,
its
mysterious
half-tones
,
its
silent
touches
lulling
the
spirit
to
rest
,
on
the
lapse
of
streams
and
the
glory
of
foaming
waters
.
While
he
forgot
himself
in
speaking
,
she
,
in
her
rapt
attention
,
saw
the
earthly
vanish
and
themselves
entering
into
a
unity
of
which
all
the
love
we
know
is
but
a
trembling
shadow
.
And
he
spoke
of
history
,
of
the
old
classic
times
,
of
religion
,
not
as
a
man
largely-informed
indeed
,
but
as
a
true
artist
,
whose
eye
sees
things
in
their
grouping
and
judges
them
by
the
law
of
the
beautiful
.
It
was
the
high
world
she
had
longed
to
dwell
in
.
How
could
she
think
of
marriage
if
this
were
not
the
heart
of
it
,
the
gold
that
made
it
precious
?
She
grew
ashamed
now
,
though
never
before
,
humbled
at
the
remembrance
of
what
passionate
desires
she
had
allowed
to
come
between
her
and
the
unsullied
light
.
She
would
be
worthy
of
him
,
of
his
large
thoughts
and
heroic
aims
;
for
did
he
not
make
of
his
profession
a
heroism
?
After
a
morning
spent
like
this
,
she
went
about
her
household
tasks
with
an
air
of
gentleness
,
a
countenance
so
clear
and
eyes
so
washed
in
heavenly
dews
,
that
the
Earl
,
moved
to
admiration
of
he
knew
not
what
that
was
exquisite
about
her
,
would
say
smilingly
,
'
You
have
put
on
your
angel
's
face
to-day
,
my
dear
;
why
do
n't
you
wear
it
always
for
our
delight
?
'
Alas
!
she
could
not
.
Rupert
himself
was
not
always
soaring
on
eagle
's
wing
.
He
could
be
melancholy
and
dispirited
;
he
was
sometimes
worn
out
with
fatigue
of
which
he
rendered
no
account
;
for
,
as
I
have
said
,
he
united
to
a
most
winning
frankness
a
reserve
that
none
,
except
Ivor
Mardol
,
attempted
to
break
into
.
He
was
unequal
,
changeable
,
or
,
in
his
friend
's
complimentary
phrase
,
iridescent
.
Trifles
irritated
him
when
serious
misfortunes
left
him
tranquil
.
He
could
be
touchy
at
a
word
;
and
although
in
Lady
May
's
presence
he
never
displayed
temper
,
it
was
not
difficult
to
perceive
that
many
things
tried
him
.
Some
afternoons
he
would
make
an
excuse
for
strolling
out
alone
,
and
,
going
down
to
the
boat-house
,
unmoor
the
skiff
,
leap
into
it
,
row
across
to
Ivor
sitting
philosophically
in
the
verandah
of
his
hermitage
,
and
running
up
the
water-steps
like
a
man
pursued
,
fling
himself
down
on
the
sofa
in
Ivor
's
study
,
and
lie
there
silent
till
the
bell
summoned
him
to
dinner
.
He
returned
,
for
the
most
part
,
in
good
though
not
exuberant
spirits
,
and
said
not
a
syllable
of
where
he
had
been
or
what
doing
since
last
they
saw
him
.
Trelingham
was
a
pleasant
house
to
stay
at
;
for
its
owner
possessed
the
hospitable
grace
of
providing
all
things
for
your
amusement
and
never
asking
whether
you
had
availed
yourself
of
them
.
But
these
imperfections
,
proving
that
the
serene
spirit
was
human
,
had
more
danger
for
Lady
May
than
their
joint
expeditions
in
quest
of
the
Ideal
.
From
pity
to
love
is
an
easy
step
.
She
admired
,
she
pitied
,
she
began
,
despite
her
interest
in
the
higher
friendship
,
if
we
may
call
it
so
,
to
love
.
And
mark
,
reader
,
for
I
must
tell
you
the
truth
as
I
know
it
,
she
felt
that
,
in
so
doing
,
she
was
descending
;
she
did
not
admire
her
love
,
but
yielded
to
it
as
a
disease
.
I
have
heard
say
that
falling
in
love
is
like
falling
asleep
;
it
implies
a
quiescent
,
not
an
active
will
.
So
was
it
with
Lady
May
.
She
felt
herself
falling
asleep
;
her
better
resolutions
melted
away
;
her
fear
of
consequences
changed
to
an
impetuous
hope
.
The
angel-face
did
not
return
so
often
;
the
golden
haze
thickened
and
shut
out
the
sapphire
.
She
began
to
long
for
an
acknowledgment
of
affection
from
Glanville
,
as
a
fevered
man
longs
for
the
cooling
water
.
She
would
die
rather
than
speak
;
surely
she
was
no
Countess
Lutenieff
to
blazon
her
feelings
before
friends
and
strangers
;
but
how
slow
the
minutes
moved
until
that
draught
was
handed
her
?
She
kept
her
secret
with
an
agony
like
the
young
Spartan
's
who
felt
the
gnawing
of
the
fox
under
his
cloak
and
would
not
cry
out
though
his
vitals
were
torn
.
Had
men
so
little
perception
when
a
woman
was
suffering
?
But
could
he
return
her
love
merely
because
she
suffered
?
No
,
she
would
not
have
it
in
such
a
shape
,
on
such
conditions
;
she
would
wait
and
think
of
that
higher
world
,
and
—
and
if
nothing
came
of
it
,
well
,
she
could
die
.
The
lady
of
the
lake
seated
by
the
dim
gray
waters
,
looking
on
the
infinitely
unfolding
cloud
,
flecked
with
faint
sunshine
,
the
impenetrable
thicket
on
one
side
of
her
,
the
deserted
path
away
in
the
green
forest
behind
her
;
—
all
the
picture
came
back
as
when
first
she
saw
it
,
and
the
same
feeling
of
desolation
.
Its
irony
was
prophetic
,
its
meaning
likely
to
be
fulfilled
in
her
own
life
with
which
she
was
now
making
a
last
and
desperate
experiment
.
Timid
though
she
felt
in
approaching
a
subject
that
might
betray
her
emotion
,
she
could
not
refrain
one
morning
from
the
inquiry
what
his
meaning
was
in
that
composition
.
He
asked
her
in
turn
,
as
was
not
unusual
with
him
,
to
give
him
an
account
of
it
;
whether
it
seemed
to
aim
at
anything
except
describing
in
colour
what
the
poet
had
described
in
words
.
She
was
dreadfully
embarrassed
,
and
wished
she
had
not
spoken
.
In
a
low
voice
,
hesitating
at
every
sentence
,
she
faltered
out
her
surmises
,
her
probably
mistaken
opinion
,
that
it
implied
rather
a
longing
for
the
unattainable
than
perfect
joy
in
the
realms
of
romance
.
Glanville
,
not
laying
aside
his
brush
while
she
spoke
,
gave
her
a
look
of
contentment
from
time
to
time
,
and
said
,
when
she
could
keep
her
voice
no
longer
under
control
and
took
refuge
in
silence
,
'
I
did
not
think
to
have
made
the
meaning
so
clear
.
Either
you
have
a
quick
discernment
or
my
parable
was
plainly
written
.
Yes
,
I
did
endeavour
to
convey
an
ironical
suggestion
that
the
beauty
of
old
romance
was
deceptive
,
and
less
akin
to
the
truth
of
existence
,
of
the
perfect
ideal
existence
which
it
ought
to
be
our
aim
to
enjoy
,
than
were
the
ghostly
mere
and
its
phantasmagoria
of
clouds
to
the
creative
sun
.
But
,
'
he
went
on
,
'
you
did
not
,
perhaps
,
gather
a
second
meaning
I
had
put
into
the
parable
.
That
beautiful
lady
,
who
is
all
desire
and
wistfulness
,
seems
to
be
passing
idly
through
her
hands
the
golden
hair
which
has
fallen
down
over
breast
and
shoulders
,
while
upon
her
knees
lies
the
magic
wand
,
forgotten
.
She
understands
,
though
dreamily
,
that
she
is
beautiful
;
she
has
the
rod
of
life
within
her
grasp
.
But
,
charmed
by
the
fantastic
visions
that
pass
along
the
sky
,
she
sits
entranced
;
and
her
beauty
and
her
magic
are
of
no
avail
.
Were
she
but
to
rise
and
strike
the
waters
,
how
marvellous
a
change
would
come
over
them
!
For
she
is
the
queen
,
not
the
slave
of
romance
;
it
is
for
her
that
its
realms
were
created
,
and
all
its
uncertain
glories
do
but
reflect
in
weak
sentimental
imaginations
,
like
those
of
children
,
knight-errants
,
and
medieval
troubadours
,
the
fulness
of
her
life
.
I
have
painted
a
second
picuture
,
where
the
dreaming
fay
remembers
that
once
upon
a
time
she
was
the
Lady
Venus
,
the
mother
of
the
living
and
the
delightful
goddess
.
For
,
as
you
know
,
these
mythologies
are
all
pretty
nearly
identical
in
meaning
.
During
the
Middle
Ages
life
and
beauty
lay
under
a
spell
;
they
were
bewitched
and
all
things
with
them
.
To
strike
into
the
depth
of
existence
and
fling
one
's
sails
upon
every
breeze
,
confident
that
shipwreck
in
the
infinite
was
not
possible
,
—
do
you
think
the
boldest
medieval
spirit
would
have
ventured
it
?
'
'
And
can
you
believe
,
'
she
said
,
raising
her
countenance
to
his
,
'
that
shipwreck
is
not
possible
?
You
often
speak
as
though
the
supreme
law
were
the
law
of
beauty
.
Granting
that
,
indeed
,
we
need
not
fear
to
go
upon
the
rocks
.
'
But
,
in
her
own
mind
,
she
was
far
from
granting
it
.
Rupert
did
not
answer
immediately
.
His
thoughts
went
back
to
Colonel
Valence
and
that
forlorn
afternoon
in
the
churchyard
.
He
seemed
to
hear
the
sad
yet
mocking
tone
in
which
Valence
declared
existence
a
universal
shipwreck
;
and
it
gave
him
pause
.
Too
large-minded
to
call
a
possibility
in
question
because
it
was
disagreeable
,
he
preferred
not
to
dwell
upon
it
.
After
a
while
he
answered
gravely
:
'
There
seems
to
be
a
controversy
between
the
artists
and
the
philosophers
on
this
point
,
witness
my
friend
Ivor
Mardol
and
me
.
He
does
not
pronounce
all
things
evil
,
nor
do
I
say
they
are
at
their
best
;
nevertheless
,
I
could
not
paint
if
I
believed
that
beauty
was
less
than
the
sovereign
law
.
And
he
speaks
of
expiation
,
the
tragic
Nemesis
,
and
I
know
not
what
.
'
'
Then
you
hope
the
best
,
'
she
said
,
'
although
you
see
it
nowhere
realised
.
The
lady
of
the
mere
is
dreaming
still
;
but
she
may
awaken
and
with
a
stroke
of
her
wand
restore
our
lost
ideals
?
'
'
Yes
,
'
he
cried
;
'
I
subscribe
to
that
creed
,
on
one
condition
.
'
'
What
is
it
?
'
