less unhappy。 I shall write a book and curse my charwoman
—if happiness consists in that。 What do you think？”
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She could not answer because they were immediately
surrounded by other members of the party—by Mrs。
Hilbery； and Mary； Henry Otway； and William。
Rodney went up to Katharine immediately and said to
her：
“Henry is going to drive home with your mother； and I
suggest that they should put us down halfway and let us
walk back。”
Katharine nodded her head。 She glanced at him with an
oddly furtive expression。
“Unfortunately we go in opposite directions； or we might
have given you a lift；” he continued to Denham。 His manner
was unusually peremptory； he seemed anxious to hasten
the departure； and Katharine looked at him from time
to time； as Denham noticed； with an expression half of
inquiry； half of annoyance。 She at once helped her mother
into her cloak； and said to Mary：
“I want to see you。 Are you going back to London at
once？ I will write。” She half smiled at Ralph； but her look
was a little overcast by something she was thinking； and
in a very few minutes the Otway carriage rolled out of the
stable yard and turned down the high road leading to the
village of Lampsher。
The return drive was almost as silent as the drive from
home had been in the morning； indeed； Mrs。 Hilbery leant
back with closed eyes in her corner； and either slept or
feigned sleep； as her habit was in the intervals between
the seasons of active exertion； or continued the story
which she had begun to tell herself that morning。
About two miles from Lampsher the road ran over the
rounded summit of the heath； a lonely spot marked by an
obelisk of granite； setting forth the gratitude of some
great lady of the eighteenth century who had been set
upon by highwaymen at this spot and delivered from death
just as hope seemed lost。 In summer it was a pleasant
place； for the deep woods on either side murmured； and
the heather； which grew thick round the granite pedestal；
made the light breeze taste sweetly； in winter the
sighing of the trees was deepened to a hollow sound； and
the heath was as gray and almost as solitary as the empty
sweep of the clouds above it。
Here Rodney stopped the carriage and helped Katharine
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to alight。 Henry； too； gave her his hand； and fancied that
she pressed it very slightly in parting as if she sent him a
message。 But the carriage rolled on immediately； without
wakening Mrs。 Hilbery； and left the couple standing by
the obelisk。 That Rodney was angry with her and had
made this opportunity for speaking to her； Katharine knew
very well； she was neither glad nor sorry that the time
had e； nor； indeed； knew what to expect； and thus
remained silent。 The carriage grew smaller and smaller
upon the dusky road； and still Rodney did not speak。
Perhaps； she thought； he waited until the last sign of the
carriage had disappeared beneath the curve of the road
and they were left entirely alone。 To cloak their silence
she read the writing on the obelisk； to do which she had
to walk pletely round it。 She was murmuring a word
to two of the pious lady’s thanks above her breath when
Rodney joined her。 In silence they set out along the cart
track which skirted the verge of the trees。
To break the silence was exactly what Rodney wished
to do； and yet could not do to his own satisfaction。 In
pany it was far easier to approach Katharine； alone
with her； the aloofness and force of her character checked
all his natural methods of attack。 He believed that she
had behaved very badly to him； but each separate instance
of unkindness seemed too petty to be advanced
when they were alone together。
“There’s no need for us to race；” he plained at last；
upon which she immediately slackened her pace； and
walked too slowly to suit him。 In desperation he said the
first thing he thought of； very peevishly and without the
dignified prelude which he had intended。
“I’ve not enjoyed my holiday。”
“No？”
“No。 I shall be glad to get back to work again。”
“Saturday； Sunday； Monday—there are only three days
more；” she counted。
“No one enjoys being made a fool of before other
people；” he blurted out； for his irritation rose as she spoke；
and got the better of his awe of her； and was inflamed by
that awe。
“That refers to me； I suppose；” she said calmly。
“Every day since we’ve been here you’ve done some
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thing to make me appear ridiculous；” he went on。 “Of
course； so long as it amuses you； you’re wele； but we
have to remember that we are going to spend our lives
together。 I asked you； only this morning； for example； to
e out and take a turn with me in the garden。 I was
waiting for you ten minutes； and you never came。 Every
one saw me waiting。 The stableboys saw me。 I was so
ashamed that I went in。 Then； on the drive you hardly
spoke to me。 Henry noticed it。 Every one notices it… 。
You find no difficulty in talking to Henry； though。”
She noted these various plaints and determined
philosophically to answer none of them； although the
last stung her to considerable irritation。 She wished to
find out how deep his grievance lay。
“None of these things seem to me to matter；” she said。
“Very well； then。 I may as well hold my tongue；” he
replied。
“In themselves they don’t seem to me to matter； if they
hurt you； of course they matter；” she corrected herself
scrupulously。 Her tone of consideration touched him； and
he walked on in silence for a space。
“And we might be so happy； Katharine！” he exclaimed
impulsively； and drew her arm through his。 She withdrew
it directly。
“As long as you let yourself feel like this we shall never
be happy；” she said。
The harshness； which Henry had noticed； was again unmistakable
in her manner。 William flinched and was silent。
Such severity； acpanied by something indescribably
cold and impersonal in her manner； had constantly
been meted out to him during the last few days； always
in the pany of others。 He had recouped himself by
some ridiculous display of vanity which； as he knew； put
him still more at her mercy。 Now that he was alone with
her there was no stimulus from outside to draw his attention
from his injury。 By a considerable effort of selfcontrol
he forced himself to remain silent； and to make himself
distinguish what part of his pain was due to vanity；
what part to the certainty that no woman really loving
him could speak thus。
“What do I feel about Katharine？” he thought to himself。
It was clear that she had been a very desirable and
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distinguished figure； the mistress of her little section of
the world； but more than that； she was the person of all
others who seemed to him the arbitress of life； the woman
whose judgment was naturally right and steady； as his
had never been in spite of all his culture。 And then he
could not see her e into a room without a sense of
the flowing