farther from him； was home now； and now； doubtless；
again with Rodney。 But it was long before he could realize
these facts； the immense desire for her presence
churned his senses into foam； into froth； into a haze of
emotion that removed all facts from his grasp； and gave
him a strange sense of distance； even from the material
shapes of wall and window by which he was surrounded。
The prospect of the future； now that the strength of his
passion was revealed to him； appalled him。
The marriage would take place in September； she had
said； that allowed him； then； six full months in which to
undergo these terrible extremes of emotion。 Six months
of torture； and after that the silence of the grave； the
isolation of the insane； the exile of the damned； at best；
a life from which the chief good was knowingly and for
ever excluded。 An impartial judge might have assured him
that his chief hope of recovery lay in this mystic temper；
which identified a living woman with much that no human
beings long possess in the eyes of each other； she
would pass； and the desire for her vanish； but his belief
in what she stood for； detached from her； would remain。
This line of thought offered； perhaps； some respite； and
possessed of a brain that had its station considerably
above the tumult of the senses； he tried to reduce the
vague and wandering incoherency of his emotions to or
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der。 The sense of selfpreservation was strong in him；
and Katharine herself had strangely revived it by convincing
him that his family deserved and needed all his
strength。 She was right； and for their sake； if not for his
own； this passion； which could bear no fruit； must be cut
off； uprooted； shown to be as visionary and baseless as
she had maintained。 The best way of achieving this was
not to run away from her； but to face her； and having
steeped himself in her qualities； to convince his reason
that they were； as she assured him； not those that he
imagined。 She was a practical woman； a domestic wife
for an inferior poet； endowed with romantic beauty by
some freak of unintelligent Nature。 No doubt her beauty
itself would not stand examination。 He had the means of
settling this point at least。 He possessed a book of photographs
from the Greek statues； the head of a goddess；
if the lower part were concealed； had often given him
the ecstasy of being in Katharine’s presence。 He took it
down from the shelf and found the picture。 To this he
added a note from her； bidding him meet her at the Zoo。
He had a flower which he had picked at Kew to teach her
botany。 Such were his relics。 He placed them before him；
and set himself to visualize her so clearly that no deception
or delusion was possible。 In a second he could see
her； with the sun slanting across her dress； ing towards
him down the green walk at Kew。 He made her sit
upon the seat beside him。 He heard her voice； so low and
yet so decided in its tone； she spoke reasonably of indifferent
matters。 He could see her faults； and analyze her
virtues。 His pulse became quieter； and his brain increased
in clarity。 This time she could not escape him。 The illusion
of her presence became more and more plete。
They seemed to pass in and out of each other’s minds；
questioning and answering。 The utmost fullness of munion
seemed to be theirs。 Thus united； he felt himself
raised to an eminence； exalted； and filled with a power of
achievement such as he had never known in singleness。
Once more he told over conscientiously her faults； both
of face and character； they were clearly known to him；
but they merged themselves in the flawless union that
was born of their association。 They surveyed life to its
uttermost limits。 How deep it was when looked at from
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Night and Day
this height！ How sublime！ How the monest things
moved him almost to tears！ Thus； he forgot the inevitable
limitations； he forgot her absence； he thought it of
no account whether she married him or another； nothing
mattered； save that she should exist； and that he should
love her。 Some words of these reflections were uttered
aloud； and it happened that among them were the words；
“I love her。” It was the first time that he had used the
word “love” to describe his feeling； madness； romance；
hallucination—he had called it by these names before；
but having； apparently by accident； stumbled upon the
word “love；” he repeated it again and again with a sense
of revelation。
“But I’m in love with you！” he exclaimed； with something
like dismay。 He leant against the windowsill； looking
over the city as she had looked。 Everything had bee
miraculously different and pletely distinct。 His
feelings were justified and needed no further explanation。
But he must impart them to some one； because his
discovery was so important that it concerned other people
too。 Shutting the book of Greek photographs； and hiding
his relics； he ran downstairs； snatched his coat； and passed
out of doors。
The lamps were being lit； but the streets were dark
enough and empty enough to let him walk his fastest；
and to talk aloud as he walked。 He had no doubt where
he was going。 He was going to find Mary Datchet。 The
desire to share what he felt； with some one who understood
it； was so imperious that he did not question it。 He
was soon in her street。 He ran up the stairs leading to her
flat two steps at a time； and it never crossed his mind
that she might not be at home。 As he rang her bell； he
seemed to himself to be announcing the presence of something
wonderful that was separate from himself； and gave
him power and authority over all other people。 Mary came
to the door after a moment’s pause。 He was perfectly
silent； and in the dusk his face looked pletely white。
He followed her into her room。
“Do you know each other？” she said； to his extreme
surprise； for he had counted on finding her alone。 A young
man rose； and said that he knew Ralph by sight。
“We were just going through some papers；” said Mary。
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“Mr。 Bast has to help me； because I don’t know much
about my work yet。 It’s the new society；” she explained。
“I’m the secretary。 I’m no longer at Russell Square。”
The voice in which she gave this information was so
constrained as to sound almost harsh。
“What are your aims？” said Ralph。 He looked neither at
Mary nor at Mr。 Bast。 Mr。 Bast thought he had seldom
seen a more disagreeable or formidable man than
this friend of Mary’s； this sarcasticlooking； whitefaced
Mr。 Denham； who seemed to demand； as if by right； an
account of their proposals； and to criticize them before
he had heard them。 Nevertheless； he explained his projects
as clearly as he could； and knew that he wished Mr。 Denham
to think well of them。
“I see；” said Ralph； when he had done。 “D’you know；
Mary；” he suddenly remarked； “I believe I’m in for a cold。
Have you any quinine？” The look which he cast at her
frightened her； it expressed mutely； perhaps without his
own consciousness；