CHAPTER XXIII

?”sheasked,recollectingthewholescene. Hebowedhishead. “Thedayyoutoldmeofyourengagement,”hesaid. Shethought,withastart,thatshewasnolongerengaged. “IdenythatIshouldceasetofeelthisifIknewyou,”hewenton.“Ishouldfeelitmorereasonably—that’sall.Ishouldn’ttalkthekindofnonsenseI’vetalkedto-night....Butitwasn’tnonsense.Itwasthetruth,”hesaiddoggedly.“It’stheimportantthing.Youcanforcemetotalkasifthisfeelingforyouwereanhallucination,butallourfeelingsarethat.Thebestofthemarehalfillusions.Still,”headded,asifarguingtohimself,“ifitweren’tasrealafeelingasI’mcapableof,Ishouldn’tbechangingmylifeonyouraccount.” “Whatdoyoumean?”sheinquired. “Itoldyou.I’mtakingacottage.I’mgivingupmyprofession.” “Onmyaccount?”sheasked,inamazement. “Yes,onyouraccount,”hereplied.Heexplainedhismeaningnofurther. “ButIdon’tknowyouoryourcircumstances,”shesaidatlast,asheremainedsilent. “Youhavenoopinionaboutmeonewayortheother?” “Yes,IsupposeIhaveanopinion—”shehesitated. Hecontrolledhiswishtoaskhertoexplainherself,andmuchtohispleasureshewenton,appearingtosearchhermind. “Ithoughtthatyoucriticizedme—perhapsdislikedme.Ithoughtofyouasapersonwhojudges—” “NoI’mapersonwhofeels,”hesaid,inalowvoice. “Tellme,then,whathasmadeyoudothis?”sheasked,afterabreak. Hetoldherinanorderlyway,betokeningcarefulpreparation,allthathehadmeanttosayatfirsthowhestoodwithregardtohisbrothersandsisterswhathismotherhadsaid,andhissisterJoanhadrefrainedfromsayingexactlyhowmanypoundsstoodinhisnameatthebankwhatprospecthisbrotherhadofearningalivelihoodinAmericahowmuchoftheirincomewentonrent,andotherdetailsknowntohimbyheart.Shelistenedtoallthis,sothatshecouldhavepassedanexaminationinitbythetimeWaterlooBridgewasinsightandyetshewasnomorelisteningtoitthanshewascountingthepaving-stonesatherfeet.Shewasfeelinghappierthanshehadfeltinherlife.IfDenhamcouldhaveseenhowvisiblybooksofalgebraicsymbols,pagesallspeckledwithdotsanddashesandtwistedbars,camebeforehereyesastheytrodtheEmbankment,hissecretjoyinherattentionmighthavebeendispersed.Shewenton,saying,“Yes,Isee....Buthowwouldthathelpyou?...Yourbrotherhaspassedhisexamination?”sosensibly,thathehadconstantlytokeephisbrainincheckandallthetimeshewasinfancylookingupthroughatelescopeatwhiteshadow-cleftdiskswhichwereotherworlds,untilshefeltherselfpossessedoftwobodies,onewalkingbytheriverwithDenham,theotherconcentratedtoasilverglobealoftinthefinebluespaceabovethescumofvaporsthatwascoveringthevisibleworld.Shelookedattheskyonce,andsawthatnostarwaskeenenoughtopiercetheflightofwaterycloudsnowcoursingrapidlybeforethewestwind.Shelookeddownhurriedlyagain.Therewasnoreason,sheassuredherself,forthisfeelingofhappinessshewasnotfreeshewasnotaloneshewasstillboundtoearthbyamillionfibreseverysteptookhernearerhome.Nevertheless,sheexultedasshehadneverexultedbefore.Theairwasfresher,thelightsmoredistinct,thecoldstoneofthebalustradecolderandharder,whenbychanceorpurposeshestruckherhandagainstit.NofeelingofannoyancewithDenhamremainedhecertainlydidnothinderanyflightshemightchoosetomake,whetherinthedirectionoftheskyorofherhomebutthatherconditionwasduetohim,ortoanythingthathehadsaid,shehadnoconsciousnessatall. TheywerenowwithinsightofthestreamofcabsandomnibusescrossingtoandfromtheSurreysideoftheriverthesoundofthetraffic,thehootingofmotor-horns,andthelightchimeoftram-bellssoundedmoreandmoredistinctly,and,withtheincreaseofnoise,theybothbecamesilent.Withacommoninstincttheyslackenedtheirpace,asiftolengthenthetimeofsemi-privacyallowedthem.ToRalph,thepleasureoftheselastyardsofthewalkwithKatharinewassogreatthathecouldnotlookbeyondthepresentmomenttothetimewhensheshouldhavelefthim.Hehadnowishtousethelastmomentsoftheircompanionshipinaddingfreshwordstowhathehadalreadysaid.Sincetheyhadstoppedtalking,shehadbecometohimnotsomucharealperson,astheverywomanhedreamtofbuthissolitarydreamshadneverproducedanysuchkeennessofsen