第8章

"Happytoseeyou！"hesaid。

Theyoungman，whohadbeenturninghisheadfromsidetoside，becametransfixed。"Isay！"hesaid，"’some’picture！"

Soamessaw，withmixedsensations，thathehadaddressedtheremarktotheGoyacopy。

"Yes，"hesaiddryly，"that’snotaGoya。It’sacopy。Ihaditpaintedbecauseitremindedmeofmydaughter。"

"ByJove！IthoughtIknewtheface，sir。Isshehere？"

ThefranknessofhisinterestalmostdisarmedSoames。

"She’llbeinaftertea，"hesaid。"Shallwegoroundthepictures？"

AndSoamesbeganthatroundwhichnevertiredhim。Hehadnotanticipatedmuchintelligencefromonewhohadmistakenacopyforanoriginal，butastheypassedfromsectiontosection，periodtoperiod，hewasstartledbytheyoungman’sfrankandrelevantremarks。Nativelyshrewdhimself，andevensensuousbeneathhismask，Soameshadnotspentthirty—eightyearsoverhisonehobbywithoutknowingsomethingmoreaboutpicturesthantheirmarketvalues。Hewas，asitwere，themissinglinkbetweentheartistandthecommercialpublic。Artforart’ssakeandallthat，ofcourse，wascant。Butaestheticsandgoodtastewerenecessary。Theappreciationofenoughpersonsofgoodtastewaswhatgaveaworkofartitspermanentmarketvalue，orinotherwordsmadeit"aworkofart。"Therewasnorealcleavage。Andhewassufficientlyaccustomedtosheep—likeandunseeingvisitors，tobeintriguedbyonewhodidnothesitatetosayofMauve:"Goodoldhaystacks！"orofJamesMaris:"Didn’thejustpaintandpaper’em！Mathewwastherealswell，sir;youcoulddigintohissurfaces！"ItwasaftertheyoungmanhadwhistledbeforeaWhistler，withthewords，"D’youthinkheeverreallysawanakedwoman，sir？"thatSoamesremarked:

"Whatareyou，Mr。Mont，ifImayask？"

"I，sir？Iwasgoingtobeapainter，buttheWarknockedthat。

Theninthetrenches，youknow，IusedtodreamoftheStockExchange，snugandwarmandjustnoisyenough。ButthePeaceknockedthat，sharesseemoff，don’tthey？I’veonlybeendemobbedaboutayear。Whatdoyourecommend，sir？"

"Haveyougotmoney？"

"Well，"answeredtheyoungman，"I’vegotafather;IkepthimaliveduringtheWar，sohe’sboundtokeepmealivenow。Though，ofcourse，there’sthequestionwhetherheoughttobeallowedtohangontohisproperty。Whatdoyouthinkaboutthat，sir？"

Soames，paleanddefensive，smiled。

"TheoldmanhasfitswhenItellhimhemayhavetoworkyet。He’sgotland，youknow;it’safataldisease。"

"ThisismyrealGoya，"saidSoamesdryly。

"ByGeorge！Hewasaswell。IsawaGoyainMunichoncethatbowledmemiddlestump。Amostevil—lookingoldwomaninthemostgorgeouslace。Hemadenocompromisewiththepublictaste。Thatoldboywas’some’explosive;hemusthavesmashedupalotofconventioninhisday。Couldn’thejustpaint！HemakesVelasquezstiff，don’tyouthink？"

"IhavenoVelasquez，"saidSoames。

Theyoungmanstared。"No，"hesaid;"onlynationsorprofiteerscanaffordhim，Isuppose。Isay，whyshouldn’tallthebankruptnationsselltheirVelasquezandTitiansandotherswellstotheprofiteersbyforce，andthenpassalawthatanyonewhoholdsapicturebyanOldMaster——seeschedule——musthangitinapublicgallery？Thereseemssomethinginthat。"

"Shallwegodowntotea？"saidSoames。

Theyoungman’searsseemedtodrooponhisskull。’He’snotdense，’

thoughtSoames，followinghimoffthepremises。

Goya，withhissatiricandsurpassingprecision，hisoriginal"line，"

andthedaringofhislightandshade，couldhavereproducedtoadmirationthegroupassembledroundAnnette’stea—trayintheingle—

nookbelow。Healone，perhaps，ofpainterswouldhavedonejusticetothesunlightfilteringthroughascreenofcreeper，tothelovelypallorofbrass，theoldcutglasses，thethinslicesoflemoninpaleambertea;justicetoAnnetteinherblacklaceydress;therewassomethingofthefairSpaniardinherbeauty，thoughitlackedthespiritualityofthatraretype;toWinifred’sgrey—haired，corsetedsolidity;toSoames，ofacertaingreyandflat—cheekeddistinction;tothevivaciousMichaelMont，pointedinearandeye;

toImogen，dark，lusciousofglance，growingalittlestout;toProsperProfond，withhisexpressionaswhoshouldsay，"Well，Mr。

Goya，what’stheuseofpaintin’thissmallparty？"finally，toJackCardigan，withhisshiningstareandtannedsanguinitybetrayingthemovingprinciple:"I’mEnglish，andIlivetobefit。"

Curious，bytheway，thatImogen，whoasagirlhaddeclaredsolemnlyonedayatTimothy’sthatshewouldnevermarryagoodman——theyweresodull——shouldhavemarriedJackCardigan，inwhomhealthhadsodestroyedalltracesoforiginalsin，thatshemighthaveretiredtorestwithtenthousandotherEnglishmenwithoutknowingthedifferencefromtheoneshehadchosentoreposebeside。"Oh！"shewouldsayofhim，inher"amusing"way，"Jackkeepshimselfsofearfullyfit;he’sneverhadaday’sillnessinhislife。HewentrightthroughtheWarwithoutafinger—ache。Youreallycan’timaginehowfitheis！"Indeed，hewasso"fit"thathecouldn’tseewhenshewasflirting，whichwassuchacomfortinaway。Allthesameshewasquitefondofhim，sofarasonecouldbeofasports—

machine，andofthetwolittleCardigansmadeafterhispattern。HereyesjustthenwerecomparinghimmaliciouslywithProsperProfond。

Therewasno"small"sportorgamewhichMonsieurProfondhadnotplayedattoo，itseemed，fromskittlestotarpon—fishing，andwornouteveryone。ImogenwouldsometimeswishthattheyhadwornoutJack，whocontinuedtoplayatthemandtalkofthemwiththesimplezealofaschool—girllearninghockey;attheageofGreat—uncleTimothyshewellknewthatJackwouldbeplayingcarpetgolfinherbedroom，and"wipingsomebody’seye。"

Hewastellingthemnowhowhehad"pippedthepro——acharmin’

fellow，playin’averygoodgame，"atthelastholethismorning;andhowhehadpulleddowntoCavershamsincelunch，andtryingtoinciteProsperProfondtoplayhimasetoftennisaftertea——dohimgood—

"keephimfit。

"Butwhat’stheuseofkeepin’fit？"saidMonsieurProfond。

"Yes，sir，"murmuredMichaelMont，"whatdoyoukeepfitfor？"

"Jack，"criedImogen，enchanted，"whatdoyoukeepfitfor？"

JackCardiganstaredwithallhishealth。Thequestionswerelikethebuzzofamosquito，andheputuphishandtowipethemaway。

DuringtheWar，ofcourse，hehadkeptfittokillGermans;nowthatitwasoverheeitherdidnotknow，orshrankindelicacyfromexplanationofhismovingprinciple。

"Buthe’sright，"saidMonsieurProfondunexpectedly，"there’snothin’leftbutkeepin’fit。"

Thesaying，toodeepforSundayafternoon，wouldhavepassedunanswered，butforthemercurialnatureofyoungMont。

"Good！"hecried。"That’sthegreatdiscoveryoftheWar。Weallthoughtwewereprogressing——nowweknowwe’reonlychanging。"

"Fortheworse，"saidMonsieurProfondgenially。

"Howyouarecheerful，Prosper！"murmuredAnnette。

"Youcomeandplaytennis！"saidJackCardigan;"you’vegotthehump。

We’llsoontakethatdown。D’youplay，Mr。Mont？"

"Ihittheballabout，sir。"

AtthisjunctureSoamesrose，ruffledinthatdeepinstinctofpreparationforthefuturewhichguidedhisexistence。

"WhenFleurcomes——"heheardJackCardigansay。

Ah！andwhydidn’tshecome？Hepassedthroughdrawing—room，hall，andporchoutontothedrive，andstoodtherelisteningforthecar。

AllwasstillandSundayfied;thelilacsinfullflowerscentedtheair。Therewerewhiteclouds，likethefeathersofducksgildedbythesunlight。MemoryofthedaywhenFleurwasborn，andhehadwaitedinsuchagonywithherlifeandhermother’sbalancedinhishands，cametohimsharply。Hehadsavedherthen，tobetheflowerofhislife。Andnow！wasshegoingtogivehimtrouble——pain——givehimtrouble？Hedidnotlikethelookofthings！Ablackbirdbrokeinonhisreveriewithaneveningsong——agreatbigfellowupinthatacacia—tree。Soameshadtakenquiteaninterestinhisbirdsoflateyears;heandFleurwouldwalkroundandwatchthem;hereyesweresharpasneedles，andshekneweverynest。Hesawherdog，aretriever，lyingonthedriveinapatchofsunlight，andcalledtohim。"Hallo，oldfellow—waitingforhertoo！"Thedogcameslowlywithagrudgingtail，andSoamesmechanicallylaidapatonhishead。

Thedog，thebird，thelilac，allwerepartofFleurforhim;nomore，noless。’Toofondofher！’hethought，’toofond！’Hewaslikeamanuninsured，withhisshipsatsea。Uninsuredagain——asinthatothertime，solongago，whenhewouldwanderdumbandjealousinthewildernessofLondon，longingforthatwoman——hisfrstwife——

themotherofthisinfernalboy。Ah！Therewasthecaratlast！Itdrewup，ithadluggage，butnoFleur。

"MissFleuriswalkingup，sir，bythetowing—path。"

Walkingallthosemiles？Soamesstared。Theman’sfacehadthebeginningofasmileonit。Whatwashegrinningat？Andveryquicklyheturned，saying，"Allright，Sims！"andwentintothehouse。Hemountedtothepicture—galleryoncemore。Hehadfromthereaviewoftheriverbank，andstoodwithhiseyesfixedonit，obliviousofthefactthatitwouldbeanhouratleastbeforeherfigureshowedthere。Walkingup！Andthatfellow’sgrin！Theboy——！

Heturnedabruptlyfromthewindow。Hecouldn’tspyonher。Ifshewantedtokeepthingsfromhim——shemust;hecouldnotspyonher。

Hisheartfeltempty，andbitternessmountedfromitintohisverymouth。ThestaccatoshoutsofJackCardiganpursuingtheball，thelaughofyoungMontroseinthestillnessandcamein。HehopedtheyweremakingthatchapProfondrun。Andthegirlin"LaVendimia"

stoodwithherarmakimboaridherdreamyeyeslookingpasthim。

’I’vedoneallIcouldforyou，’hethought，’sinceyouwerenohigherthanmyknee。Youaren’tgoingto——to——hurtme，areyou？’

ButtheGoyacopyanswerednot，brilliantincolourjustbeginningtotonedown。’There’snoreallifeinit，’thoughtSoames。’Whydoesn’tshecome？’

X

TRIO

AmongthosefourForsytesofthethird，and，asonemightsay，fourthgeneration，atWansdonundertheDowns，aweek—endprolongeduntotheninthdayhadstretchedthecrossingthreadsoftenacityalmosttosnapping—point。NeverhadFleurbeenso"fine，"Hollysowatchful，Valsostable—secretive，Jonsosilentanddisturbed。Whathelearnedoffarminginthatweekmighthavebeenbalancedonthepointofapenknifeandpuffedoff。He，whosenaturewasessentiallyaversefromintrigue，andwhoseadorationofFleurdisposedhimtothinkthatanyneedforconcealingitwas"skittles，"chafedandfretted，yetobeyed，takingwhatreliefhecouldinthefewmomentswhentheywerealone。OnThursday，whiletheywerestandinginthebaywindowofthedrawing—room，dressedfordinner，shesaidtohim:

"Jon，I’mgoinghomeonSundaybythe3。40fromPaddington;ifyouweretogohomeonSaturdayyoucouldcomeuponSundayandtakemedown，andjustgetbackherebythelasttrain，after。Youweregoinghomeanyway，weren’tyou？"

Jonnodded。

"Anythingtobewithyou，"hesaid;"onlywhyneedIpretend——"

Fleurslippedherlittlefingerintohispalm:

"Youhavenoinstinct，Jon;youmustleavethingstome。It’sseriousaboutourpeople。We’vesimplygottobesecretatpresent，ifwewanttobetogether。"Thedoorwasopened，andsheaddedloudly:"Youareaduffer，Jon。"

SomethingturnedoverwithinJon;hecouldnotbearthissubterfugeaboutafeelingsonatural，sooverwhelming，andsosweet。

OnFridaynightaboutelevenhehadpackedhisbag，andwasleaningoutofhiswindow，halfmiserable，andhalflostinadreamofPaddingtonstation，whenheheardatinysound，asofafinger—nailtappingonhisdoor。Herushedtoitandlistened。Againthesound。

Itwasanail。Heopened。Oh！Whatalovelythingcamein！

"Iwantedtoshowyoumyfancydress，"itsaid，andstruckanattitudeatthefootofhisbed。

Jondrewalongbreathandleanedagainstthedoor。Theapparitionworewhitemuslinonitshead，afichurounditsbareneckoverawine—coloureddress，fulledoutbelowitsslenderwaist。

Itheldonearmakimbo，andtheotherraised，right—angled，holdingafanwhichtoucheditshead。

"Thisoughttobeabasketofgrapes，"itwhispered，"butIhaven’tgotithere。It’smyGoyadress。Andthisistheattitudeinthepicture。Doyoulikeit？"

"It’sadream。"

Theapparitionpirouetted。"Touchit，andsee。"

Jonkneltdownandtooktheskirtreverently。

"Grapecolour，"camethewhisper，"allgrapes——LaVendimia——thevintage。"

Jon’sfingersscarcelytouchedeachsideofthewaist;helookedup，withadoringeyes。

"Oh！Jon，"itwhispered;bent，kissedhisforehead，pirouettedagain，and，glidingout，wasgone。

Jonstayedonhisknees，andhisheadfellforwardagainstthebed。

Howlonghestayedlikethathedidnotknow。Thelittlenoises——ofthetappingnail，thefeet，theskirtsrustling——asinadream——wentonabouthim;andbeforehisclosedeyesthefigurestoodandsmiledandwhispered，afaintperfumeofnarcissuslingeringintheair。

Andhisforeheadwhereithadbeenkissedhadalittlecoolplacebetweenthebrows，liketheimprintofaflower。Lovefilledhissoul，thatloveofboyforgirlwhichknowssolittle，hopessomuch，wouldnotbrushthedownofffortheworld，andmustbecomeintimeafragrantmemory——asearingpassion——ahumdrummateship——or，onceinmanytimes，vintagefullandsweetwithsunsetcolouronthegrapes。

EnoughhasbeensaidaboutJonForsytehereandinanotherplacetoshowwhatlongmarcheslaybetweenhimandhisgreat—great—

grandfather，thefirstJolyon，inDorsetdownbythesea。Jonwassensitiveasagirl，moresensitivethannineoutoftengirlsoftheday;imaginativeasoneofhishalf—sisterJune’s"lameduck"

painters;affectionateasasonofhisfatherandhismothernaturallywouldbe。Andyet，inhisinnertissue，therewassomethingoftheoldfounderofhisfamily，asecrettenacityofsoul，adreadofshowinghisfeelings，adeterminationnottoknowwhenhewasbeaten。Sensitive，imaginative，affectionateboysgetabadtimeatschool，butJonhadinstinctivelykepthisnaturedark，andbeenbutnormallyunhappythere。Onlywithhismotherhadhe，uptillthen，beenabsolutelyfrankandnatural;andwhenhewenthometoRobinHillthatSaturdayhisheartwasheavybecauseFleurhadsaidthathemustnotbefrankandnaturalwithherfromwhomhehadneveryetkeptanything，mustnoteventellherthattheyhadmetagain，unlesshefoundthatsheknewalready。SointolerabledidthisseemtohimthathewasveryneartotelegraphinganexcuseandstayingupinLondon。Andthefirstthinghismothersaidtohimwas:

"Soyou’vehadourlittlefriendoftheconfectioner’sthere，Jon。

Whatisshelikeonsecondthoughts？"

Withrelief，andahighcolour，Jonanswered:

"Oh！awfullyjolly，Mum。"

Herarmpressedhis。

JonhadneverlovedhersomuchasinthatminutewhichseemedtofalsifyFleur’sfearsandtoreleasehissoul。Heturnedtolookather，butsomethinginhersmilingface——somethingwhichonlyheperhapswouldhavecaught——stoppedthewordsbubblingupinhim。

Couldfeargowithasmile？Ifso，therewasfearinherface。AndoutofJontumbledquiteotherwords，aboutfarming，Holly，andtheDowns。Talkingfast，hewaitedforhertocomebacktoFleur。Butshedidnot。Nordidhisfathermentionher，thoughofcoursehe，too，mustknow。Whatdeprivation，andkillingofrealitywasinhissilenceaboutFleur——whenhewassofullofher;whenhismotherwassofullofJon，andhisfathersofullofhismother！AndsothetriospenttheeveningofthatSaturday。

Afterdinnerhismotherplayed;sheseemedtoplayallthethingshelikedbest，andhesatwithonekneeclasped，andhishairstandingupwherehisfingershadrunthroughit。Hegazedathismotherwhilesheplayed，buthesawFleur——Fleurinthemoonlitorchard，Fleurinthesunlitgravel—pit，Fleurinthatfancydress，swaying，whispering，stooping，kissinghisforehead。Once，whilehelistened，heforgothimselfandglancedathisfatherinthatothereasychair。

WhatwasDadlookinglikethatfor？Theexpressiononhisfacewassosadandpuzzling。Itfilledhimwithasortofremorse，sothathegotupandwentandsatonthearmofhisfather’schair。Fromtherehecouldnotseehisface;andagainhesawFleur——inhismother’shands，slimandwhiteonthekeys，intheprofileofherfaceandherpowderyhair;anddownthelongroomintheopenwindowwheretheMaynightwalkedoutside。

Whenhewentuptobedhismothercameintohisroom。Shestoodatthewindow，andsaid:

"Thosecypressesyourgrandfatherplanteddowntherehavedonewonderfully。Ialwaysthinktheylookbeautifulunderadroppingmoon。Iwishyouhadknownyourgrandfather，Jon。"

"Wereyoumarriedtofatherwhenhewasalive？"askedJonsuddenly。

"No，dear;hediedin’92——veryold——eighty—five，Ithink。"

"IsFatherlikehim？"

"Alittle，butmoresubtle，andnotquitesosolid。"

"Iknow，fromgrandfather’sportrait;whopaintedthat？"

"OneofJune’s’lameducks。’Butit’squitegood。"

Jonslippedhishandthroughhismother’sarm。"Tellmeaboutthefamilyquarrel，Mum。"

Hefeltherarmquivering。"No，dear;that’sforyourFathersomeday，ifhethinksfit。"

"Thenitwasserious，"saidJon，withacatchinhisbreath。

"Yes。"Andtherewasasilence，duringwhichneitherknewwhetherthearmorthehandwithinitwerequiveringmost。

"Somepeople，"saidIrenesoftly，"thinkthemoononherbackisevil;tomeshe’salwayslovely。Lookatthosecypressshadows！

Jon，FathersayswemaygotoItaly，youandI，fortwomonths。

Wouldyoulike？"

Jontookhishandfromunderherarm;hissensationwassosharpandsoconfused。Italywithhismother！Afortnightagoitwouldhavebeenperfection;nowitfilledhimwithdismay;hefeltthatthesuddensuggestionhadtodowithFleur。Hestammeredout:

"Oh！yes;only——Idon’tknow。OughtI——nowI’vejustbegun？I’dliketothinkitover。"

Hervoiceanswered，coolandgentle:

"Yes，dear;thinkitover。Butbetternowthanwhenyou’vebegunfarmingseriously。Italywithyou！Itwouldbenice！"

Jonputhisarmroundherwaist，stillslimandfirmasagirl’s。

"DoyouthinkyououghttoleaveFather？"hesaidfeebly，feelingverymean。

"Fathersuggestedit;hethinksyououghttoseeItalyatleastbeforeyousettledowntoanything。"

ThesenseofmeannessdiedinJon;heknew，yes——heknew——thathisfatherandhismotherwerenotspeakingfrankly，nomorethanhehimself。TheywantedtokeephimfromFleur。Hishearthardened。

And，asifshefeltthatprocessgoingon，hismothersaid:

"Good—night，darling。Haveagoodsleepandthinkitover。Butitwouldbelovely！"

Shepressedhimtohersoquicklythathedidnotseeherface。Jonstoodfeelingexactlyasheusedtowhenhewasanaughtylittleboy;

sorebecausehewasnotloving，andbecausehewasjustifiedinhisowneyes。

ButIrene，aftershehadstoodamomentinherownroom，passedthroughthedressing—roombetweenitandherhusband’s。

"Well？"

"Hewillthinkitover，Jolyon。"

Watchingherlipsthatworealittledrawnsmile，Jolyonsaidquietly:

"Youhadbetterletmetellhim，andhavedonewithit。Afterall，Jonhastheinstinctsofagentleman。Hehasonlytounderstand——"

"Only！Hecan’tunderstand;that’simpossible。"

"IbelieveIcouldhaveathisage。"

Irenecaughthishand。"YouwerealwaysmoreofarealistthanJon;

andneversoinnocent。"

"That’strue，"saidJolyon。"It’squeer，isn’tit？YouandIwouldtellourstoriestotheworldwithoutaparticleofshame;butourownboystumpsus。"

"We’venevercaredwhethertheworldapprovesornot。"

"Jonwouldnotdisapproveofus！"

"Oh！Jolyon，yes。He’sinlove，Ifeelhe’sinlove。Andhe’dsay:

’Mymotheroncemarriedwithoutlove！Howcouldshehave！’It’llseemtohimacrime！Andsoitwas！"

Jolyontookherhand，andsaidwithawrysmile:

"Ah！whyoneartharewebornyoung？Now，ifonlywewerebornoldandgrewyoungeryearbyyear，weshouldunderstandhowthingshappen，anddropallourcursedintolerance。Butyouknowiftheboyisreallyinlove，hewon’tforget，evenifhegoestoItaly。We’reatenaciousbreed;andhe’llknowbyinstinctwhyhe’sbeingsent。

Nothingwillreallycurehimbuttheshockofbeingtold。"

"Letmetry，anyway。"

Jolyonstoodamomentwithoutspeaking。Betweenthisdevilandthisdeepsea——thepainofadreadeddisclosureandthegriefoflosinghiswifefortwomonths——hesecretlyhopedforthedevil;yetifshewishedforthedeepseahemustputupwithit。Afterall，itwouldbetrainingforthatdeparturefromwhichtherewouldbenoreturn。

And，takingherinhisarms，hekissedhereyes，andsaid:

"Asyouwill，mylove。"

XI

DUET

That"small"emotion，love，growsamazinglywhenthreatenedwithextinction。JonreachedPaddingtonstationhalfanhourbeforehistimeandafullweekafter，asitseemedtohim。Hestoodattheappointedbookstall，amidacrowdofSundaytravellers，inaHarristweedsuitexhaling，asitwere，theemotionofhisthumpingheart。

Hereadthenamesofthenovelsonthebook—stall，andboughtoneatlast，toavoidbeingregardedwithsuspicionbythebook—stallclerk。

Itwascalled"TheHeartoftheTrail！"whichmustmeansomething，thoughitdidnotseemto。Healsobought"TheLady’sMirror"and"TheLandsman。"Everyminutewasanhourlong，andfullofhorridimaginings。Afternineteenhadpassed，hesawherwithabagandaporterwheelingherluggage。Shecameswiftly;shecamecool。Shegreetedhimasifhewereabrother。

"Firstclass，"shesaidtotheporter，"cornerseats;opposite。"

Jonadmiredherfrightfulself—possession。

"Can’twegetacarriagetoourselves，"hewhispered。

"Nogood;it’sastoppingtrain。AfterMaidenheadperhaps。Looknatural，Jon。"

Jonscrewedhisfeaturesintoascowl。Theygotin——withtwootherbeasts！——oh！heaven！Hetippedtheporterunnaturally，inhisconfusion。Thebrutedeservednothingforputtingtheminthere，andlookingasifheknewallaboutitintothebargain。

Fleurhidherselfbehind"TheLady’sMirror。"Jonimitatedherbehind"TheLandsman。"Thetrainstarted。Fleurlet"TheLady’sMirror"fallandleanedforward。

"Well？"shesaid。

"It’sseemedaboutfifteendays。"

Shenodded，andJon’sfacelightedupatonce。

"Looknatural，"murmuredFleur，andwentoffintoabubbleoflaughter。Ithurthim。HowcouldhelooknaturalwithItalyhangingoverhim？Hehadmeanttobreakittohergently，butnowheblurteditout。

"TheywantmetogotoItalywithMotherfortwomonths。"

Fleurdroopedhereyelids;turnedalittlepale，andbitherlips。

"Oh！"shesaid。Itwasall，butitwasmuch。

That"Oh！"waslikethequickdrawbackofthewristinfencingreadyforriposte。Itcame。

"Youmustgo！"

"Go？"saidJoninastrangledvoice。

"Ofcourse。"

"But——twomonths——it’sghastly。"

"No，"saidFleur，"sixweeks。You’llhaveforgottenmebythen。

We’llmeetintheNationalGallerythedayafteryougetback。"

Jonlaughed。

"Butsupposeyou’veforgottenme，"hemutteredintothenoiseofthetrain。

Fleurshookherhead。

"Someotherbeast——"murmuredJon。

Herfoottouchedhis。

"Nootherbeast，"shesaid，lifting"TheLady’sMirror。"

Thetrainstopped;twopassengersgotout，andonegotin。

’Ishalldie，’thoughtJon，’ifwe’renotaloneatall。’

Thetrainwenton;andagainFleurleanedforward。

"Ineverletgo，"shesaid;"doyou？"

Jonshookhisheadvehemently。

"Never！"hesaid。"Willyouwritetome？"

"No;butyoucan——tomyClub。"

ShehadaClub;shewaswonderful！

"DidyoupumpHolly？"hemuttered。

"Yes，butIgotnothing。Ididn’tdarepumphard。"

"Whatcanitbe？"criedJon。

"Ishallfindoutallright。"

AlongsilencefollowedtillFleursaid:"ThisisMaidenhead;standby，Jon！"

Thetrainstopped。Theremainingpassengergotout。Fleurdrewdownherblind。

"Quick！"shecried。"Hangout！Lookasmuchofabeastasyoucan。"

Jonblewhisnose，andscowled;neverinallhislifehadhescowledlikethat！Anoldladyrecoiled，ayoungonetriedthehandle。Itturned，butthedoorwouldnotopen。Thetrainmoved，theyoungladydartedtoanothercarriage。