told you half； either。 I’m no longer engaged to William
Rodney。 He is to marry Cassandra Otway。 It’s all arranged—
all perfectly right… 。 And after he’d waited in the streets
for hours and hours； William made me bring him in。 He
was standing under the lamppost watching our windows。
He was perfectly white when he came into the room。
William left us alone； and we sat and talked。 It seems
ages and ages ago； now。 Was it last night？ Have I been
out long？ What’s the time？” She sprang forward to catch
sight of a clock； as if the exact time had some important
bearing on her case。
“Only halfpast eight！” she exclaimed。 “Then he may be
there still。” She leant out of the window and told the
cabman to drive faster。
“But if he’s not there； what shall I do？ Where could I
find him？ The streets are so crowded。”
“We shall find him；” Mary repeated。
Mary had no doubt but that somehow or other they would
find him。 But suppose they did find him？ She began to
think of Ralph with a sort of strangeness； in her effort to
understand how he could be capable of satisfying this extraordinary
desire。 Once more she thought herself back to
her old view of him and could； with an effort； recall the
haze which surrounded his figure； and the sense of confused；
heightened exhilaration which lay all about his neighborhood；
so that for months at a time she had never exactly
heard his voice or seen his face—or so it now seemed
to her。 The pain of her loss shot through her。 Nothing
would ever make up—not success； or happiness； or oblivion。
But this pang was immediately followed by the assurance
that now； at any rate； she knew the truth； and Katharine；
she thought； stealing a look at her； did not know the truth；
yes； Katharine was immensely to be pitied。
The cab； which had been caught in the traffic； was now
liberated and sped on down Sloane Street。 Mary was con
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scious of the tension with which Katharine marked its
progress； as if her mind were fixed upon a point in front
of them； and marked； second by second； their approach
to it。 She said nothing； and in silence Mary began to fix
her mind； in sympathy at first； and later in forgetfulness
of her panion； upon a point in front of them。 She
imagined a point distant as a low star upon the horizon
of the dark。 There for her too； for them both； was the
goal for which they were striving； and the end for the
ardors of their spirits was the same： but where it was； or
what it was； or why she felt convinced that they were
united in search of it； as they drove swiftly down the
streets of London side by side； she could not have said。
“At last；” Katharine breathed； as the cab drew up at the
door。 She jumped out and scanned the pavement on either
side。 Mary； meanwhile； rang the bell。 The door opened
as Katharine assured herself that no one of the people
within view had any likeness to Ralph。 On seeing her； the
maid said at once：
“Mr。 Denham called again； miss。 He has been waiting
for you for some time。”
Katharine vanished from Mary’s sight。 The door shut
between them； and Mary walked slowly and thoughtfully
up the street alone。
Katharine turned at once to the diningroom。 But with
her fingers upon the handle； she held back。 Perhaps she
realized that this was a moment which would never e
again。 Perhaps； for a second； it seemed to her that no
reality could equal the imagination she had formed。 Perhaps
she was restrained by some vague fear or anticipation；
which made her dread any exchange or interruption。
But if these doubts and fears or this supreme bliss
restrained her； it was only for a moment。 In another second
she had turned the handle and； biting her lip to
control herself； she opened the door upon Ralph Denham。
An extraordinary clearness of sight seemed to possess
her on beholding him。 So little； so single； so separate
from all else he appeared； who had been the cause of
these extreme agitations and aspirations。 She could have
laughed in his face。 But； gaining upon this clearness of
sight against her will； and to her dislike； was a flood of
confusion； of relief； of certainty； of humility； of desire no
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longer to strive and to discriminate； yielding to which；
she let herself sink within his arms and confessed her
love。
CHAPTER XXXII
Nobody asked Katharine any questions next day。 If cross
examined she might have said that nobody spoke to her。
She worked a little； wrote a little； ordered the dinner； and
sat； for longer than she knew； with her head on her hand
piercing whatever lay before her； whether it was a letter
or a dictionary； as if it were a film upon the deep prospects
that revealed themselves to her kindling and brooding
eyes。 She rose once； and going to the bookcase； took
out her father’s Greek dictionary and spread the sacred
pages of symbols and figures before her。 She smoothed
the sheets with a mixture of affectionate amusement and
hope。 Would other eyes look on them with her one day？
The thought； long intolerable； was now just bearable。
She was quite unaware of the anxiety with which her
movements were watched and her expression scanned。
Cassandra was careful not to be caught looking at her；
and their conversation was so prosaic that were it not for
certain jolts and jerks between the sentences； as if the
mind were kept with difficulty to the rails； Mrs。 Milvain
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herself could have detected nothing of a suspicious nature
in what she overheard。
William； when he came in late that afternoon and found
Cassandra alone； had a very serious piece of news to impart。
He had just passed Katharine in the street and she
had failed to recognize him。
“That doesn’t matter with me； of course； but suppose it
happened with somebody else？ What would they think？
They would suspect something merely from her expression。
She looked—she looked”—he hesitated—”like some
one walking in her sleep。”
To Cassandra the significant thing was that Katharine
had gone out without telling her； and she interpreted
this to mean that she had gone out to meet Ralph Denham。
But to her surprise William drew no fort from this
probability。
“Once throw conventions aside；” he began； “once do
the things that people don’t do—” and the fact that you
are going to meet a young man is no longer proof of
anything； except； indeed； that people will talk。
Cassandra saw； not without a pang of jealousy； that he
was extremely solicitous that people should not talk about
Katharine； as if his interest in her were still proprietary
rather than friendly。 As they were both ignorant of Ralph’s
visit the night before they had not that reason to fort
themselves with the thought that matters were hastening
to a crisis。 These absences of Katharine’s； moreover；
left them exposed to interruptions which almost
destroyed their pleasure in being alone together。 The rainy
evening made it impossible to go out； and； indeed； according
to William’s code； it was considerably more damning
to be seen out of doors than surprised within。 They
were so much at the mercy of bells and doors that they
could hardly talk of Macaulay with any conviction； and
William preferred to defer the second act of his tragedy
until another day。
Under these circumstances Cassandra showed herself at
her best。 She sympathized with William’s anxieties and
did her utmost to share them； but still； to be alone together；
to be running risks together； to be partners in the
wonderful conspiracy； was to her so enthralling that she
was always forgetting discretion； breaking out into ex
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clamations and admirations which finally made William
believe that； although deplorable and upsetting； the situation
was not without its sweetness。
When the door did open； he started； but braved the
forthing revelation。 It was not Mrs。 Milvain； however；
but Katharine herself who entered； closely followed
by Ralph Denham。 With a set expression which showed
what an effort she was making； Katharine encountered
their eyes； and saying； “We’re not going to interrupt you；”
she led Denham behind the curtain which hung in front
of the room with the relics。 This refuge was none of her
willing； but confronted with wet pavements and only some
belated museum or Tube station for shelter； she was forced；
for Ralph’s sake； to face the disforts of her own house。
Under the street lamps she had thought him looking both
tired and strained。
Thus separated； the two couples remained occupied for
some time with their own affairs。 Only the lowest murmurs
perated from one section of the room to the
other。 At length the maid came in to bring a message
that Mr。 Hilbery would not be home for dinner。 It was
true that there was no need that Katharine should be
informed； but William began to inquire Cassandra’s opinion
in such a way as to show that； with or without reason；
he wished very much to speak to her。
From motives of her own Cassandra dissuaded him。
“But don’t you think it’s a little unsociable？” he
hazarded。 “Why not do something amusing？—go to the
play； for instance？ Why not ask Katharine and Ralph； eh？”
The coupling of their names in this manner caused
Cassandra’s heart to leap with pleasure。
“Don’t you think they must be—？” she began； but William
hastily took her up。
“Oh； I know nothing about that。 I only thought we
might amuse ourselves； as your uncle’s out。”
He proceeded on his embassy with a mixture of excitement
and embarrassment which caused him to turn aside
with his hand on the curtain； and to examine intently for
several moments the portrait of a lady； optimistically said
by Mrs。 Hilbery to be an early work of Sir Joshua Reynolds。
Then； with some unnecessary fumbling； he drew aside
the curtain； and with his eyes fixed upon the ground；
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repeated his message and suggested that they should all
spend the evening at the play。 Katharine accepte