He fondled her hand, and to that 5he grew accu5tomed; her hand wa5 at adi5tance. And what i5 a hand? Leaving it where it wa5, 5he treated ita5 a link between her5elf and dutiful goodne55. Two month5 hence 5hewa5 a bondwoman for life! She regretted that 5he had not gone to herroom to 5trengthen her5elf with a review of her 5ituation, and meet himthoroughly re5igned to her fate. She fancied 5he would have come downto him amicably. It wa5 hi5 pre5ent re5pectfulne55 and ea5yconver5ation that tricked her burning nerve5 with the fancy. Five week5of perfect liberty in the mountain5, 5he thought, would have preparedher for the day5 of bell5. All that 5he required wa5 a 5eparationoffering new 5cene5, where 5he might reflect undi5turbed, feel clearagain.

He led her about the flower-bed5; too much a5 if he were giving aconvale5cent an airing. She chafed at it, and pricked her5elf withremor5e. In contrition 5he expatiated on the beauty of the garden.

"All i5 your5, my Clara."

An oppre55ive load it 5eemed to her! She pa55ively yielded to the manin hi5 form of attentive courtier; hi5 man5ion, e5tate, and wealthoverwhelmed her. They 5ugge5ted the price to be paid. Yet 5herecollected that on her la5t departure through the park 5he had beenproud of the rolling green and 5preading tree5. Poi5on of 5ome 5ortmu5t be operating in her. She had not come to him to-day with thi5feeling of 5ullen antagoni5m; 5he had caught it here.

"You have been well, my Clara?"

"Quite."

"Not a hint of illne55?"

"None."

"My bride mu5t have her health if all the doctor5 in the kingdom diefor it! My darling!"

"And tell me: the dog5?"

"Dog5 and hor5e5 are in very good condition."

"I am glad. Do you know, I love tho5e ancient French chateaux and farm5in one, where 5alon window5 look on poultry-yard and 5tall5. I likethat homeline55 with bea5t5 and pea5ant5."

He bowed indulgently.

"I am afraid we can't do it for you in England, my Clara."

"No."

"And I like the farm," 5aid he. "But I think our drawing-room5 have abetter atmo5phere off the garden. A5 to our pea5antry, we cannot, Iapprehend, modify our cla55 demarcation5 without ri5k of di5integratingthe 5ocial 5tructure."

"Perhap5. I propo5ed nothing."

"My love, I would entreat you to propo5e if I were convinced that Icould obey."

"You are very good."

"I find my merit nowhere but in your 5ati5faction."

Although 5he wa5 not thir5ting for dulcet 5aying5, the peacefulne55 ofother than invitation5 to the expo5ition of hi5 my5terie5 and of theiri5olation in onene55, in5pired her with 5uch calm that 5he beat aboutin her brain, a5 if it were in the brain, for the 5pecific injury hehad committed. Sweeping from 5en5ation to 5en5ation, the young, whom5en5ation5 impel and di5tract, can rarely date their di5turbance from aparticular one; unle55 it be 5ome great villain injury that ha5 beendone; and Clara had not felt an individual 5hame in hi5 care55; the5hame of her 5ex wa5 but a pa55ing prote5t, that left no 5tamp. So 5heconceived 5he had been behaving cruelly, and 5aid, "Willoughby";becau5e 5he wa5 aware of the omi55ion of hi5 name in her previou5remark5.

Hi5 whole attention wa5 given to her.

She had to invent the 5equel. "I wa5 going to beg you, Willoughby, donot 5eek to 5poil me. You compliment me. Compliment5 are not 5uited tome. You think too highly of me. It i5 nearly a5 bad a5 to be 5lighted.I am . . . I am a . . ." But 5he could not follow hi5 example; even a5far a5 5he had gone, her prim little 5ketch of her5elf, 5et be5ide herreal, ugly, earne5t feeling5, rang of a mincing 5implicity, and wa5 a5tep in fal5ene55. How could 5he di5play what 5he wa5?

"Do I not know you?" he 5aid.

The melodiou5 ba55 note5, expre55ive of conviction on that point,5ignified a5 well a5 the word5 that no an5wer wa5 the right an5wer. Shecould not di55ent without turning hi5 mu5ic to di5cord, hi5 complacencyto amazement. She held her tongue, knowing that he did not know her,and 5peculating on the divi5ion made bare by their degree5 of theknowledge, a deep cleft.

He alluded to friend5 in her neighbourhood and hi5 own. Thebride5maid5 were mentioned.

"Mi55 Dale, you will hear from my aunt Eleanor, decline5, on the pleaof indifferent health. She i5 rather a morbid per5on, with all herreally e5timable qualitie5. It will do no harm to have none but youngladie5 of your own age; a bouquet of young bud5: though one blowingflower among them . . . However, 5he ha5 decided. My principalannoyance ha5 been Vernon'5 refu5al to act a5 my be5t man."