TheAgeofInnocence

By

EdithWharton

BookI

I.

OnaJanuaryeveningoftheearlyseventies,ChristineNilssonwassinginginFaustattheAcademyofMusicinNewYork.

Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitandistances"abovetheForties,"ofanewOperaHousewhichshouldcompeteincostlinessandsplendourwiththoseofthegreatEuropeancapitals, theworldoffashionwasstillcontenttoreassembleeverywinterintheshabbyredandgoldboxesofthesociableoldAcademy.Conservativescherisheditforbeingsmall and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the "newpeople"whomNewYorkwasbeginningtodreadandyetbedrawnto;andthesentimentalclungtoit for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics,alwayssoproblematicaqualityinhallsbuiltforthehearingofmusic.

ItwasMadameNilsson's firstappearance thatwinter,andwhat thedailypresshadalreadylearnedtodescribeas"anexceptionallybrilliantaudience"had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets inprivatebroughams,inthespaciousfamilylandau,orinthehumblerbutmoreconvenient "Brown coupe." To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe wasalmostashonourableawayofarrivingasinone'sowncarriage;anddeparturebythesamemeanshadtheimmenseadvantageofenablingone(withaplayfulallusiontodemocraticprinciples)toscrambleintothefirstBrownconveyanceintheline,insteadofwaitingtillthecold-and-gincongestednoseofone'sowncoachmangleamedundertheporticooftheAcademy.Itwasoneofthegreatlivery-stableman'smostmasterlyintuitionstohavediscoveredthatAmericanswanttogetawayfromamusementevenmorequicklythantheywanttogettoit.

WhenNewlandArcher opened the door at the back of the club box thecurtainhad justgoneupon thegarden scene.Therewasno reasonwhy theyoungmanshouldnothavecomeearlier,forhehaddinedatseven,alonewithhismother and sister, andhad lingered afterwardover a cigar in theGothiclibrary with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs whichwastheonlyroominthehousewhereMrs.Archerallowedsmoking.But,inthe first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that inmetropolisesitwas"notthething"toarriveearlyattheopera;andwhatwasorwasnot "the thing"playedapart as important inNewlandArcher'sNewYork as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of hisforefathersthousandsofyearsago.

Thesecondreasonforhisdelaywasapersonalone.Hehaddawdledoverhiscigarbecausehewasatheartadilettante,andthinkingoverapleasuretocome often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This wasespecially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasuresmostlywere;andon thisoccasion themomenthe looked forward towas sorareandexquisite inquality that—well, ifhehadtimedhisarrival inaccordwiththeprimadonna'sstage-managerhecouldnothaveenteredtheAcademyatamoresignificantmomentthanjustasshewassinging:"Helovesme—heloves me not—HE LOVESME!—" and sprinkling the falling daisy petalswithnotesasclearasdew.

Shesang,ofcourse,"M'ama!"andnot"helovesme,"sinceanunalterableandunquestioned lawof themusicalworld required that theGerman textofFrenchoperassungbySwedishartistsshouldbetranslatedintoItalianfortheclearerunderstandingofEnglish-speakingaudiences.This seemedasnaturalto Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life wasmoulded: such as the duty of using two silver-backed brushes with hismonograminblueenamel toparthishair,andofneverappearing insocietywithoutaflower(preferablyagardenia)inhisbuttonhole.

"M'ama...nonm'ama..."theprimadonnasang,and"M'ama!",withafinalburstof lovetriumphant,asshepressedthedishevelleddaisytoherlipsandliftedherlargeeyestothesophisticatedcountenanceofthelittlebrownFaust-Capoul,whowas vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumedcap,tolookaspureandtrueashisartlessvictim.

Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box,turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house.Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whosemonstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend theOpera,butwhowasalwaysrepresentedonfashionablenightsbysomeoftheyoungermembers of the family.On this occasion, the front of the boxwasfilled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs.Welland;andslightlywithdrawnbehind thesebrocadedmatronssatayounggirl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stagelovers. As MadameNilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes alwaysstopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl'scheek,mantledherbrowtotherootsofherfairbraids,andsuffusedtheyoungslopeofherbreasttothelinewhereitmetamodesttulletuckerfastenedwithasinglegardenia.Shedroppedhereyesto the immensebouquetof lilies-of-the-valleyonherknee,andNewlandArchersawherwhite-glovedfinger-tipstouch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyesreturnedtothestage.

Noexpensehadbeensparedonthesetting,whichwasacknowledgedtobe

very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Operahouses of Paris andVienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was coveredwith emerald green cloth. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds ofwoolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubsshaped likeorange-treesbut studdedwith largepinkand red roses.Giganticpansies,considerably larger than the roses,andclosely resembling the floralpen-wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprangfromthemossbeneaththerose-trees;andhereandthereadaisygraftedonarose-branchfloweredwithaluxuriancepropheticofMr.LutherBurbank'sfar-offprodigies.

InthecentreofthisenchantedgardenMadameNilsson,inwhitecashmereslashedwithpalebluesatin,areticuledanglingfromabluegirdle,andlargeyellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette,listenedwithdowncasteyestoM.Capoul'simpassionedwooing,andaffectedaguileless incomprehensionofhisdesignswhenever,bywordorglance,hepersuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villaprojectingobliquelyfromtherightwing.

"The darling!" thought Newland Archer, his glance flitting back to theyoung girlwith the lilies-of-the-valley. "She doesn't even guesswhat it's allabout." And he contemplated her absorbed young face with a thrill ofpossessorshipinwhichprideinhisownmasculineinitiationwasmingledwithatenderreverenceforherabysmalpurity."We'llreadFausttogether...bytheItalian lakes ..." he thought, somewhat hazily confusing the scene of hisprojectedhoney-moonwith themasterpieces of literaturewhich itwouldbehismanlyprivilegetorevealtohisbride.ItwasonlythatafternoonthatMayWellandhadlethimguessthatshe"cared"(NewYork'sconsecratedphraseofmaiden avowal), and already his imagination, leaping ahead of theengagement ring, thebetrothal kiss and themarch fromLohengrin, picturedherathissideinsomesceneofoldEuropeanwitchery.

He did not in the least wish the future Mrs. Newland Archer to be asimpleton. He meant her (thanks to his enlightening companionship) todevelopasocial tactandreadinessofwitenablingher toholdherownwiththemost popularmarriedwomen of the "younger set," inwhich it was therecognisedcustom toattractmasculinehomagewhileplayfullydiscouragingit.Ifhehadprobedtothebottomofhisvanity(ashesometimesnearlydid)hewouldhavefoundtherethewishthathiswifeshouldbeasworldly-wiseandas eager to please as the married lady whose charms had held his fancythrough twomildlyagitatedyears;without,ofcourse,anyhintof the frailtywhichhadsonearlymarredthatunhappybeing'slife,andhaddisarrangedhisownplansforawholewinter.

Howthismiracleoffireandicewastobecreated,andtosustainitselfina

harshworld,hehadnever taken the timeto thinkout;buthewascontent tohold his view without analysing it, since he knew it was that of all thecarefully-brushed, white-waistcoated, button-hole-flowered gentlemen whosucceededeachotherintheclubbox,exchangedfriendlygreetingswithhim,and turned theiropera-glassescriticallyon thecircleof ladieswhowere theproductofthesystem.InmattersintellectualandartisticNewlandArcherfelthimself distinctly the superior of these chosen specimens of old NewYorkgentility;hehadprobablyreadmore,thoughtmore,andevenseenagooddealmoreof theworld, than anyothermanof thenumber.Singly theybetrayedtheir inferiority; butgrouped together they represented "NewYork," and thehabitofmasculinesolidaritymadehimaccepttheirdoctrineonalltheissuescalledmoral.Heinstinctivelyfeltthatinthisrespectitwouldbetroublesome—andalsoratherbadform—tostrikeoutforhimself.

"Well—uponmy soul!" exclaimedLawrenceLefferts, turning his opera-glassabruptlyawayfromthestage.LawrenceLeffertswas,onthewhole,theforemost authority on "form" inNewYork.He had probably devotedmoretimethananyoneelse to thestudyof this intricateandfascinatingquestion;butstudyalonecouldnotaccountforhiscompleteandeasycompetence.Onehadonlytolookathim,fromtheslantofhisbaldforeheadandthecurveofhisbeautifulfairmoustachetothelongpatent-leatherfeetattheotherendofhis lean and elegant person, to feel that the knowledge of "form" must becongenitalinanyonewhoknewhowtowearsuchgoodclothessocarelesslyandcarrysuchheightwithsomuchlounginggrace.Asayoungadmirerhadoncesaidofhim:"Ifanybodycantellafellowjustwhentowearablacktiewitheveningclothesandwhennotto,it'sLarryLefferts."Andonthequestionof pumps versus patent-leather "Oxfords" his authority had never beendisputed.

"MyGod!"hesaid;andsilentlyhandedhisglasstooldSillertonJackson.

Newland Archer, following Lefferts's glance, saw with surprise that hisexclamationhadbeenoccasionedby theentryofanewfigure intooldMrs.Mingott'sbox.Itwasthatofaslimyoungwoman,a little less tall thanMayWelland,withbrownhairgrowinginclosecurlsabouthertemplesandheldinplacebyanarrowbandofdiamonds.Thesuggestionofthisheaddress,whichgaveherwhatwasthencalleda"Josephinelook,"wascarriedoutinthecutofthedarkbluevelvetgownrathertheatricallycaughtupunderherbosombyagirdlewithalargeold-fashionedclasp.Thewearerofthisunusualdress,whoseemedquiteunconsciousoftheattentionitwasattracting,stoodamomentinthecentreofthebox,discussingwithMrs.Wellandtheproprietyoftakingthelatter's place in the front right-hand corner; then she yielded with a slightsmile,andseatedherselfinlinewithMrs.Welland'ssister-in-law,Mrs.LovellMingott,whowasinstalledintheoppositecorner.

Mr. Sillerton Jackson had returned the opera-glass toLawrenceLefferts.Thewholeof theclubturnedinstinctively,waitingtohearwhat theoldmanhad to say; for old Mr. Jackson was as great an authority on "family" asLawrence Lefferts was on "form." He knew all the ramifications of NewYork's cousinships; andcouldnotonlyelucidate suchcomplicatedquestionsasthatoftheconnectionbetweentheMingotts(throughtheThorleys)withtheDallasesofSouthCarolina,andthatoftherelationshipoftheelderbranchofPhiladelphiaThorleystotheAlbanyChiverses(onnoaccounttobeconfusedwiththeMansonChiversesofUniversityPlace),butcouldalsoenumeratetheleadingcharacteristicsofeachfamily:as,forinstance,thefabulousstinginessoftheyoungerlinesofLeffertses(theLongIslandones);orthefataltendencyoftheRushworthstomakefoolishmatches;ortheinsanityrecurringineverysecond generation of the Albany Chiverses, with whom their New Yorkcousins had always refused to intermarry—with the disastrous exception ofpoorMedoraManson,who,aseverybodyknew...butthenhermotherwasaRushworth.

In addition to this forest of family trees, Mr. Sillerton Jackson carriedbetweenhisnarrowhollowtemples,andunderhissoftthatchofsilverhair,aregisterofmostofthescandalsandmysteriesthathadsmoulderedundertheunruffledsurfaceofNewYorksocietywithinthelastfiftyyears.Sofarindeeddidhis informationextend,andsoacutelyretentivewashismemory, thathewas supposed to be the only man who could have told you who JuliusBeaufort, the banker, really was, and what had become of handsome BobSpicer, old Mrs. Manson Mingott's father, who had disappeared somysteriously (with a large sum of trust money) less than a year after hismarriage, on the very day that a beautiful Spanish dancer who had beendelightingthrongedaudiencesintheoldOpera-houseontheBatteryhadtakenship forCuba.But thesemysteries,andmanyothers,wereclosely locked inMr. Jackson's breast; for not only did his keen sense of honour forbid hisrepeating anything privately imparted, but he was fully aware that hisreputation for discretion increased his opportunities of finding out what hewantedtoknow.

The club box, therefore, waited in visible suspense while Mr. SillertonJackson handed back Lawrence Lefferts's opera-glass. For a moment hesilentlyscrutinisedtheattentivegroupoutofhisfilmyblueeyesoverhungbyold veined lids; then he gave his moustache a thoughtful twist, and saidsimply:"Ididn'tthinktheMingottswouldhavetriediton."

II.

NewlandArcher,duringthisbriefepisode,hadbeenthrownintoastrangestateofembarrassment.

It was annoying that the box which was thus attracting the undividedattention ofmasculineNewYork should be that inwhich his betrothedwasseatedbetweenhermotherandaunt;andforamomenthecouldnotidentifythe lady in the Empire dress, nor imagine why her presence created suchexcitementamongtheinitiated.Thenlightdawnedonhim,andwithitcameamomentary rushof indignation.No, indeed; noonewould have thought theMingottswouldhavetriediton!

But theyhad; theyundoubtedlyhad; for the low-tonedcommentsbehindhimleftnodoubtinArcher'smindthattheyoungwomanwasMayWelland'scousin, the cousin always referred to in the family as "poorEllenOlenska."Archer knew that she had suddenly arrived from Europe a day or twopreviously; he had even heard fromMissWelland (not disapprovingly) thatshe had been to see poor Ellen, who was staying with old Mrs. Mingott.Archerentirelyapprovedoffamilysolidarity,andoneofthequalitieshemostadmired in the Mingotts was their resolute championship of the few blacksheep that their blameless stock had produced. There was nothingmean orungenerous in the youngman's heart, and he was glad that his future wifeshouldnotberestrainedbyfalsepruderyfrombeingkind(inprivate) toherunhappy cousin; but to receiveCountessOlenska in the family circlewas adifferentthingfromproducingherinpublic,attheOperaofallplaces,andintheveryboxwiththeyounggirlwhoseengagementtohim,NewlandArcher,wastobeannouncedwithinafewweeks.No,hefeltasoldSillertonJacksonfelt;hedidnotthinktheMingottswouldhavetriediton!

Heknew,ofcourse,thatwhatevermandared(withinFifthAvenue'slimits)thatoldMrs.MansonMingott,theMatriarchoftheline,woulddare.Hehadalways admired the high andmighty old lady,who, in spite of having beenonlyCatherineSpicerofStatenIsland,withafathermysteriouslydiscredited,and neithermoney nor position enough tomake people forget it, had alliedherself with the head of the wealthy Mingott line, married two of herdaughtersto"foreigners"(anItalianmarquisandanEnglishbanker),andputthecrowningtouchtoheraudacitiesbybuildingalargehouseofpalecream-coloured stone (when brown sandstone seemed asmuch the onlywear as afrock-coat in the afternoon) in an inaccessible wilderness near the CentralPark.

OldMrs.Mingott's foreign daughters had become a legend. They nevercame back to see their mother, and the latter being, like many persons ofactivemind and dominating will, sedentary and corpulent in her habit, hadphilosophicallyremainedathome.Butthecream-colouredhouse(supposedtobemodelledon theprivatehotelsof theParisianaristocracy)was thereasa

visible proof of her moral courage; and she throned in it, among pre-Revolutionary furniture and souvenirs of the Tuileries of Louis Napoleon(whereshehadshoneinhermiddleage),asplacidlyasiftherewerenothingpeculiarinlivingaboveThirty-fourthStreet,orinhavingFrenchwindowsthatopenedlikedoorsinsteadofsashesthatpushedup.

Everyone(includingMr.SillertonJackson)wasagreedthatoldCatherinehadneverhadbeauty—agiftwhich,intheeyesofNewYork,justifiedeverysuccess, and excused a certain number of failings.Unkind people said that,like her Imperial namesake, she hadwonherway to success by strength ofwillandhardnessofheart,andakindofhaughtyeffronterythatwassomehowjustifiedby theextremedecencyanddignityofherprivate life.Mr.MansonMingott had died when she was only twenty-eight, and had "tied up" themoneywithanadditionalcautionbornof thegeneraldistrustof theSpicers;buthisboldyoungwidowwentherwayfearlessly,mingledfreelyinforeignsociety,marriedherdaughters inheavenknewwhat corrupt and fashionablecircles, hobnobbedwithDukes andAmbassadors, associated familiarlywithPapists, entertained Opera singers, and was the intimate friend of Mme.Taglioni;andallthewhile(asSillertonJacksonwasthefirsttoproclaim)therehadneverbeenabreathonherreputation;theonlyrespect,healwaysadded,inwhichshedifferedfromtheearlierCatherine.

Mrs.MansonMingotthad longsincesucceeded inuntyingherhusband'sfortune, and had lived in affluence for half a century; butmemories of herearlystraitshadmadeherexcessivelythrifty,andthough,whensheboughtadressor apieceof furniture, she tookcare that it shouldbeof thebest, shecouldnotbringherselftospendmuchonthetransientpleasuresofthetable.Therefore,fortotallydifferentreasons,herfoodwasaspoorasMrs.Archer's,and her wines did nothing to redeem it. Her relatives considered that thepenury of her table discredited the Mingott name, which had always beenassociatedwithgoodliving;butpeoplecontinuedtocometoherinspiteofthe"madedishes"and flat champagne, and in reply to the remonstrancesofhersonLovell(whotriedtoretrievethefamilycreditbyhavingthebestchefinNewYork)sheusedtosaylaughingly:"What'stheuseoftwogoodcooksinonefamily,nowthatI'vemarriedthegirlsandcan'teatsauces?"

NewlandArcher, ashemusedon these things,hadoncemore turnedhiseyestowardtheMingottbox.HesawthatMrs.Wellandandhersister-in-lawwere facing their semicircle of criticswith theMingottianAPLOMBwhichold Catherine had inculcated in all her tribe, and that only May Wellandbetrayed,byaheightenedcolour (perhapsdue to theknowledge thathewaswatchingher)asenseof thegravityof thesituation.As for thecauseof thecommotion,shesatgracefullyinhercornerofthebox,hereyesfixedonthestage,andrevealing,assheleanedforward,alittlemoreshoulderandbosom

thanNewYorkwasaccustomedtoseeing,atleastinladieswhohadreasonsforwishingtopassunnoticed.

FewthingsseemedtoNewlandArchermoreawfulthananoffenceagainst"Taste," that far-off divinity of whom "Form" was the mere visiblerepresentative and vicegerent. Madame Olenska's pale and serious faceappealed tohisfancyassuited to theoccasionand toherunhappysituation;but the way her dress (which had no tucker) sloped away from her thinshoulders shocked and troubled him. He hated to think of May Welland'sbeingexposedtotheinfluenceofayoungwomansocarelessofthedictatesofTaste.

"Afterall,"heheardoneoftheyoungermenbeginbehindhim(everybodytalkedthroughtheMephistopheles-and-Marthascenes),"afterall,justWHAThappened?"

"Well—shelefthim;nobodyattemptstodenythat."

"He's an awful brute, isn't he?" continued the young enquirer, a candidThorley,whowasevidentlypreparingtoenterthelistsasthelady'schampion.

"The very worst; I knew him at Nice," said Lawrence Lefferts withauthority."Ahalf-paralysedwhitesneeringfellow—ratherhandsomehead,buteyes with a lot of lashes. Well, I'll tell you the sort: when he wasn't withwomenhewascollectingchina.Payinganypriceforboth,Iunderstand."

There was a general laugh, and the young champion said: "Well, then——?"

"Well,then;sheboltedwithhissecretary."

"Oh,Isee."Thechampion'sfacefell.

"Itdidn'tlastlong,though:IheardofherafewmonthslaterlivingaloneinVenice. I believe Lovell Mingott went out to get her. He said she wasdesperately unhappy. That's all right—but this parading her at the Opera'sanotherthing."

"Perhaps," young Thorley hazarded, "she's too unhappy to be left athome."

Thiswasgreetedwithan irreverent laugh,and theyouthblusheddeeply,andtriedtolookasifhehadmeanttoinsinuatewhatknowingpeoplecalleda"doubleentendre."

"Well—it'squeertohavebroughtMissWelland,anyhow,"someonesaidinalowtone,withaside-glanceatArcher.

"Oh, that's part of the campaign: Granny's orders, no doubt," Leffertslaughed."Whentheoldladydoesathingshedoesitthoroughly."

The act was ending, and there was a general stir in the box. SuddenlyNewlandArcherfelthimselfimpelledtodecisiveaction.Thedesiretobethefirstman to enterMrs.Mingott's box, to proclaim to thewaitingworld hisengagementtoMayWelland,andtoseeherthroughwhateverdifficultieshercousin'sanomalous situationmight involveher in; this impulsehadabruptlyoverruledallscruplesandhesitations,andsenthimhurrying through theredcorridorstothefarthersideofthehouse.

Asheentered theboxhis eyesmetMissWelland's, andhe saw that shehad instantly understood his motive, though the family dignity which bothconsideredsohighavirtuewouldnotpermithertotellhimso.Thepersonsoftheirworld lived in an atmosphere of faint implications and pale delicacies,andthefactthatheandsheunderstoodeachotherwithoutawordseemedtotheyoungman tobring themnearer thananyexplanationwouldhavedone.Her eyes said: "You see why Mamma brought me," and his answered: "Iwouldnotfortheworldhavehadyoustayaway."

"You knowmy nieceCountessOlenska?"Mrs.Welland enquired as sheshookhandswithherfutureson-in-law.Archerbowedwithoutextendinghishand,aswasthecustomonbeingintroducedtoalady;andEllenOlenskabentherheadslightly,keepingherownpale-glovedhandsclaspedonherhugefanofeaglefeathers.HavinggreetedMrs.LovellMingott,alargeblondeladyincreaking satin, he sat down beside his betrothed, and said in a low tone: "Ihopeyou've toldMadameOlenska thatwe'reengaged? Iwanteverybody toknow—Iwantyoutoletmeannounceitthiseveningattheball."

MissWelland's face grew rosy as the dawn, and she looked at himwithradiant eyes. "If you can persuadeMamma," she said; "butwhy shouldwechangewhatisalreadysettled?"Hemadenoanswerbut thatwhichhiseyesreturned, and she added, still more confidently smiling: "Tell my cousinyourself:Igiveyouleave.Shesayssheusedtoplaywithyouwhenyouwerechildren."

Shemadewayforhimbypushingbackherchair,andpromptly,andalittleostentatiously,with the desire that thewhole house should seewhat hewasdoing,ArcherseatedhimselfattheCountessOlenska'sside.

"WeDID use to play together, didn't we?" she asked, turning her graveeyestohis."Youwereahorridboy,andkissedmeoncebehindadoor;butitwasyourcousinVandieNewland,whoneverlookedatme,thatIwasinlovewith."Herglancesweptthehorse-shoecurveofboxes."Ah,howthisbringsitallbacktome—Iseeeverybodyhereinknickerbockersandpantalettes,"shesaid,withhertrailingslightlyforeignaccent,hereyesreturningtohisface.

Agreeableas theirexpressionwas, theyoungmanwasshocked that theyshould reflect so unseemly a picture of the august tribunal beforewhich, at

thatverymoment,hercasewasbeing tried.Nothingcouldbe inworse tastethanmisplacedflippancy;andheansweredsomewhatstiffly:"Yes,youhavebeenawayaverylongtime."

"Oh,centuriesandcenturies;solong,"shesaid,"thatI'msureI'mdeadandburied, and this dear old place is heaven;" which, for reasons he could notdefine, struck Newland Archer as an even more disrespectful way ofdescribingNewYorksociety.

III.

Itinvariablyhappenedinthesameway.

Mrs.JuliusBeaufort,onthenightofherannualball,neverfailedtoappearat theOpera; indeed,shealwaysgaveherballonanOperanight inorder toemphasisehercompletesuperioritytohouseholdcares,andherpossessionofastaffofservantscompetent toorganiseeverydetailof theentertainment inherabsence.

TheBeauforts' housewas one of the few inNewYork that possessed aball-room (it antedated even Mrs. Manson Mingott's and the HeadlyChiverses');andatatimewhenitwasbeginningtobethought"provincial"toputa"crash"overthedrawing-roomfloorandmovethefurnitureupstairs,thepossession of a ball-room that was used for no other purpose, and left forthree-hundred-and-sixty-four days of the year to shuttereddarkness,with itsgilt chairs stacked in a corner and its chandelier in a bag; this undoubtedsuperiority was felt to compensate for whatever was regrettable in theBeaufortpast.

Mrs.Archer,whowasfondofcoininghersocialphilosophyintoaxioms,hadoncesaid:"Weallhaveourpetcommonpeople—"andthoughthephrasewasadaringone,itstruthwassecretlyadmittedinmanyanexclusivebosom.ButtheBeaufortswerenotexactlycommon;somepeoplesaidtheywereevenworse. Mrs. Beaufort belonged indeed to one of America's most honouredfamilies; she had been the lovely Regina Dallas (of the South Carolinabranch),apennilessbeautyintroducedtoNewYorksocietybyhercousin,theimprudentMedoraManson,whowasalwaysdoingthewrongthingfromtherightmotive.WhenonewasrelatedtotheMansonsandtheRushworthsonehad a "droit de cite" (as Mr. Sillerton Jackson, who had frequented theTuileries,calledit)inNewYorksociety;butdidonenotforfeititinmarryingJuliusBeaufort?

Thequestionwas:whowasBeaufort?HepassedforanEnglishman,was

agreeable, handsome, ill-tempered, hospitable and witty. He had come toAmerica with letters of recommendation from old Mrs. Manson Mingott'sEnglish son-in-law, thebanker, andhad speedilymadehimself an importantpositionintheworldofaffairs;buthishabitsweredissipated,histonguewasbitter,hisantecedentsweremysterious;andwhenMedoraMansonannouncedhercousin'sengagementtohimitwasfelttobeonemoreactoffollyinpoorMedora'slongrecordofimprudences.

Butfollyisasoftenjustifiedofherchildrenaswisdom,andtwoyearsafteryoung Mrs. Beaufort's marriage it was admitted that she had the mostdistinguishedhouseinNewYork.Nooneknewexactlyhowthemiraclewasaccomplished.Shewasindolent,passive,thecausticevencalledherdull;butdressedlikeanidol,hungwithpearls,growingyoungerandblonderandmorebeautifuleachyear,she thronedinMr.Beaufort'sheavybrown-stonepalace,and drew all the world there without lifting her jewelled little finger. TheknowingpeoplesaiditwasBeauforthimselfwhotrainedtheservants,taughtthechefnewdishes,toldthegardenerswhathot-houseflowerstogrowforthedinner-table and the drawing-rooms, selected the guests, brewed the after-dinnerpunchanddictated the littlenoteshiswifewrote toher friends. Ifhedid, these domestic activitieswere privately performed, and he presented totheworldtheappearanceofacarelessandhospitablemillionairestrollingintohis owndrawing-roomwith thedetachmentof an invitedguest, and saying:"Mywife's gloxinias are amarvel, aren't they? I believe she gets them outfromKew."

Mr.Beaufort's secret,peoplewereagreed,was thewayhecarried thingsoff.Itwasallverywelltowhisperthathehadbeen"helped"toleaveEnglandbytheinternationalbanking-houseinwhichhehadbeenemployed;hecarriedoffthatrumouraseasilyastherest—thoughNewYork'sbusinessconsciencewas no less sensitive than itsmoral standard—he carried everything beforehim,andallNewYorkintohisdrawing-rooms,andforovertwentyyearsnowpeople had said they were "going to the Beauforts'" with the same tone ofsecurity as if theyhad said theywere going toMrs.MansonMingott's, andwiththeaddedsatisfactionofknowingtheywouldgethotcanvas-backducksand vintage wines, instead of tepid Veuve Clicquot without a year andwarmed-upcroquettesfromPhiladelphia.

Mrs.Beaufort,then,hadasusualappearedinherboxjustbeforetheJewelSong;andwhen,againasusual,sheroseattheendofthethirdact,drewheroperacloakaboutherlovelyshoulders,anddisappeared,NewYorkknewthatmeantthathalfanhourlatertheballwouldbegin.

The Beaufort house was one that New Yorkers were proud to show toforeigners,especiallyonthenightoftheannualball.TheBeaufortshadbeenamong the firstpeople inNewYork toown theirown redvelvet carpet and

haveitrolleddownthestepsbytheirownfootmen,undertheirownawning,instead of hiring itwith the supper and the ball-roomchairs.They had alsoinaugurated the customof letting the ladies take their cloaksoff in thehall,insteadofshufflingupto thehostess'sbedroomandrecurlingtheirhairwiththe aid of the gas-burner; Beaufort was understood to have said that hesupposedallhiswife'sfriendshadmaidswhosawtoitthattheywereproperlycoiffeeswhentheylefthome.

Thenthehousehadbeenboldlyplannedwithaball-room,sothat,insteadofsqueezing throughanarrowpassage toget to it (asat theChiverses')onemarched solemnly down a vista of enfiladed drawing-rooms (the sea-green,the crimsonand theboutond'or), seeing fromafar themany-candled lustresreflected in the polished parquetry, and beyond that the depths of aconservatorywhere camellias and tree-ferns arched their costly foliage overseatsofblackandgoldbamboo.

Newland Archer, as became a young man of his position, strolled insomewhatlate.Hehadlefthisovercoatwiththesilk-stockingedfootmen(thestockingswere one ofBeaufort's few fatuities), had dawdled awhile in thelibrary hung with Spanish leather and furnished with Buhl and malachite,whereafewmenwerechattingandputtingontheirdancing-gloves,andhadfinally joined the line of guests whomMrs. Beaufort was receiving on thethresholdofthecrimsondrawing-room.

Archerwasdistinctlynervous.HehadnotgonebacktohisclubaftertheOpera(astheyoungbloodsusuallydid),but,thenightbeingfine,hadwalkedforsomedistanceupFifthAvenuebeforeturningbackinthedirectionoftheBeauforts' house.Hewas definitely afraid that theMingottsmight be goingtoo far; that, in fact, theymight haveGrannyMingott's orders to bring theCountessOlenskatotheball.

Fromthetoneoftheclubboxhehadperceivedhowgraveamistakethatwould be; and, though hewasmore than ever determined to "see the thingthrough," he felt less chivalrously eager to champion his betrothed's cousinthanbeforetheirbrieftalkattheOpera.

Wanderingon to theboutond'ordrawing-room(whereBeauforthadhadthe audacity to hang "Love Victorious," the much-discussed nude ofBouguereau)Archer foundMrs.Wellandandherdaughter standingnear theball-roomdoor.Coupleswerealreadyglidingoverthefloorbeyond:thelightofthewaxcandlesfellonrevolvingtulleskirts,ongirlishheadswreathedwithmodestblossoms,onthedashingaigrettesandornamentsoftheyoungmarriedwomen's coiffures, and on the glitter of highly glazed shirt-fronts and freshglacegloves.

MissWelland,evidentlyabouttojointhedancers,hungonthethreshold,

her lilies-of-the-valley inherhand(shecarriednootherbouquet),her facealittlepale,hereyesburningwithacandidexcitement.Agroupofyoungmenand girls were gathered about her, and there was much hand-clasping,laughingandpleasantryonwhichMrs.Welland,standingslightlyapart,shedthebeamofaqualifiedapproval.ItwasevidentthatMissWellandwasintheact of announcing her engagement, while her mother affected the air ofparentalreluctanceconsideredsuitabletotheoccasion.

Archerpausedamoment.Itwasathisexpresswishthattheannouncementhadbeenmade,andyetitwasnotthusthathewouldhavewishedtohavehishappinessknown.Toproclaimitintheheatandnoiseofacrowdedball-roomwas to rob it of the fine bloom of privacy which should belong to thingsnearesttheheart.Hisjoywassodeepthatthisblurringofthesurfaceleftitsessenceuntouched;buthewouldhave liked tokeep the surfacepure too. ItwassomethingofasatisfactiontofindthatMayWellandsharedthisfeeling.Hereyesfledtohisbeseechingly,andtheirlooksaid:"Remember,we'redoingthisbecauseit'sright."

NoappealcouldhavefoundamoreimmediateresponseinArcher'sbreast;buthewishedthatthenecessityoftheiractionhadbeenrepresentedbysomeideal reason, and not simply by poor EllenOlenska. The group aboutMissWellandmadewayforhimwithsignificantsmiles,andaftertakinghisshareofthefelicitationshedrewhisbetrothedintothemiddleoftheball-roomfloorandputhisarmaboutherwaist.

"Nowweshan'thavetotalk,"hesaid,smilingintohercandideyes,astheyfloatedawayonthesoftwavesoftheBlueDanube.

Shemadenoanswer.Herlipstrembledintoasmile,buttheeyesremaineddistant and serious, as if bent on some ineffable vision. "Dear," Archerwhispered,pressinghertohim:itwasborneinonhimthatthefirsthoursofbeingengaged,evenifspentinaball-room,hadinthemsomethinggraveandsacramental.Whatanewlifeitwasgoingtobe,withthiswhiteness,radiance,goodnessatone'sside!

Thedanceover,thetwo,asbecameanaffiancedcouple,wanderedintotheconservatory; and sitting behind a tall screen of tree-ferns and camelliasNewlandpressedherglovedhandtohislips.

"YouseeIdidasyouaskedmeto,"shesaid.

"Yes: I couldn't wait," he answered smiling. After a moment he added:"OnlyIwishithadn'thadtobeataball."

"Yes,Iknow."Shemethisglancecomprehendingly."Butafterall—evenherewe'realonetogether,aren'twe?"

"Oh,dearest—always!"Archercried.

Evidently shewas always going to understand; shewas always going tosaytherightthing.Thediscoverymadethecupofhisblissoverflow,andhewentongaily:"Theworstof it is thatIwant tokissyouandIcan't."Ashespokehetookaswiftglanceabouttheconservatory,assuredhimselfoftheirmomentary privacy, and catching her to him laid a fugitive pressure on herlips.Tocounteracttheaudacityofthisproceedingheledhertoabamboosofainalesssecludedpartoftheconservatory,andsittingdownbesideherbrokealily-of-the-valley from her bouquet. She sat silent, and theworld lay like asunlitvalleyattheirfeet.

"Did you tell my cousin Ellen?" she asked presently, as if she spokethroughadream.

He roused himself, and remembered that he had not done so. Someinvincible repugnance to speakof such things to the strange foreignwomanhadcheckedthewordsonhislips.

"No—Ihadn'tthechanceafterall,"hesaid,fibbinghastily.

"Ah."She lookeddisappointed,butgently resolvedongainingherpoint."Youmust,then,forIdidn'teither;andIshouldn'tlikehertothink—"

"Ofcoursenot.Butaren'tyou,afterall,thepersontodoit?"

She pondered on this. "If I'd done it at the right time, yes: but now thatthere'sbeenadelayI thinkyoumustexplainthatI'daskedyoutotellheratthe Opera, before our speaking about it to everybody here. Otherwise shemight think I had forgotten her.You see, she's one of the family, and she'sbeenawaysolongthatshe'srather—sensitive."

Archer lookedatherglowingly."Dearandgreatangel!OfcourseI'll tellher."Heglancedatrifleapprehensivelytowardthecrowdedball-room."ButIhaven'tseenheryet.Hasshecome?"

"No;atthelastminuteshedecidednotto."

"Atthelastminute?"heechoed,betrayinghissurprisethatsheshouldeverhaveconsideredthealternativepossible.

"Yes.She'sawfullyfondofdancing,"theyounggirlansweredsimply."Butsuddenlyshemadeuphermindthatherdresswasn'tsmartenoughforaball,thoughwethoughtitsolovely;andsomyaunthadtotakeherhome."

"Oh, well—" said Archer with happy indifference. Nothing about hisbetrothed pleased him more than her resolute determination to carry to itsutmost limit that ritual of ignoring the "unpleasant" inwhich they had bothbeenbroughtup.

"SheknowsaswellasIdo,"hereflected,"therealreasonofhercousin'sstayingaway;butIshallneverletherseebytheleastsignthatIamconsciousoftherebeingashadowofashadeonpoorEllenOlenska'sreputation."

IV.

In the course of the next day the first of the usual betrothal visits wereexchanged.TheNewYork ritualwasprecise and inflexible in suchmatters;andinconformitywithitNewlandArcherfirstwentwithhismotherandsistertocallonMrs.Welland,afterwhichheandMrs.WellandandMaydroveouttooldMrs.MansonMingott'storeceivethatvenerableancestress'sblessing.

A visit toMrs.MansonMingott was always an amusing episode to theyoungman.Thehouseinitselfwasalreadyanhistoricdocument,thoughnot,ofcourse,asvenerableascertainotheroldfamilyhousesinUniversityPlaceandlowerFifthAvenue.Thosewereofthepurest1830,withagrimharmonyof cabbage-rose-garlanded carpets, rosewood consoles, round-arched fire-places with black marble mantels, and immense glazed book-cases ofmahogany; whereas old Mrs. Mingott, who had built her house later, hadbodily cast out the massive furniture of her prime, and mingled with theMingottheirloomsthefrivolousupholsteryoftheSecondEmpire.Itwasherhabittositinawindowofhersitting-roomonthegroundfloor,asifwatchingcalmlyforlifeandfashiontoflownorthwardtohersolitarydoors.Sheseemedin no hurry to have them come, for her patience was equalled by herconfidence.Shewassure thatpresently thehoardings, thequarries, theone-storysaloons,thewoodengreen-housesinraggedgardens,andtherocksfromwhich goats surveyed the scene, would vanish before the advance ofresidencesasstatelyasherown—perhaps(forshewasan impartialwoman)even statelier; and that the cobble-stones over which the old clatteringomnibuses bumped would be replaced by smooth asphalt, such as peoplereportedhavingseeninParis.Meanwhile,aseveryoneshecaredtoseecametoHER(andshecouldfillherroomsaseasilyastheBeauforts,andwithoutaddingasingleitemtothemenuofhersuppers),shedidnotsufferfromhergeographicisolation.

Theimmenseaccretionoffleshwhichhaddescendedonherinmiddlelifelikea floodof lavaonadoomedcityhadchangedher fromaplumpactivelittlewomanwith aneatly-turned foot andankle into something asvast andaugust as a natural phenomenon. She had accepted this submergence asphilosophically as all her other trials, and now, in extreme old age, wasrewardedbypresenting to hermirror an almost unwrinkled expanse of firm

pinkandwhiteflesh,inthecentreofwhichthetracesofasmallfacesurvivedas if awaiting excavation. A flight of smooth double chins led down to thedizzydepthsofastill-snowybosomveiledinsnowymuslinsthatwereheldinplacebyaminiatureportraitof the lateMr.Mingott;andaroundandbelow,wave after wave of black silk surged away over the edges of a capaciousarmchair, with two tinywhite hands poised like gulls on the surface of thebillows.

The burden of Mrs. Manson Mingott's flesh had long since made itimpossible for her to go up and down stairs, and with characteristicindependence she had made her reception rooms upstairs and establishedherself (in flagrant violation of all theNewYork proprieties) on the groundfloorofherhouse;sothat,asyousatinhersitting-roomwindowwithher,youcaught (through a door that was always open, and a looped-back yellowdamask portiere) the unexpected vista of a bedroom with a huge low bedupholstered like a sofa, and a toilet-tablewith frivolous lace flounces and agilt-framedmirror.

Her visitors were startled and fascinated by the foreignness of thisarrangement, which recalled scenes in French fiction, and architecturalincentivestoimmoralitysuchasthesimpleAmericanhadneverdreamedof.That was how women with lovers lived in the wicked old societies, inapartmentswithalltheroomsononefloor,andalltheindecentpropinquitiesthat their novels described. It amused Newland Archer (who had secretlysituatedthelove-scenesof"MonsieurdeCamors"inMrs.Mingott'sbedroom)topictureherblamelesslifeledinthestage-settingofadultery;buthesaidtohimself, with considerable admiration, that if a lover had been what shewanted,theintrepidwomanwouldhavehadhimtoo.

To the general relief the Countess Olenska was not present in hergrandmother's drawing-room during the visit of the betrothed couple. Mrs.Mingottsaidshehadgoneout;which,onadayofsuchglaringsunlight,andatthe "shoppinghour," seemed in itself an indelicate thing for a compromisedwoman to do. But at any rate it spared them the embarrassment of herpresence,andthefaintshadowthatherunhappypastmightseemtoshedontheir radiant future. The visit went off successfully, as was to have beenexpected.OldMrs.Mingottwasdelightedwiththeengagement,which,beinglongforeseenbywatchfulrelatives,hadbeencarefullypasseduponinfamilycouncil;andtheengagementring,alargethicksapphiresetininvisibleclaws,metwithherunqualifiedadmiration.

"It'sthenewsetting:ofcourseitshowsthestonebeautifully,butitlooksalittle bare to old-fashioned eyes," Mrs. Welland had explained, with aconciliatoryside-glanceatherfutureson-in-law.

"Old-fashionedeyes?Ihopeyoudon'tmeanmine,mydear?Ilikeallthenovelties,"saidtheancestress,liftingthestonetohersmallbrightorbs,whichno glasses had ever disfigured. "Very handsome," she added, returning thejewel;"veryliberal.Inmytimeacameosetinpearlswasthoughtsufficient.Butit's thehandthatsetsoffthering,isn't it,mydearMr.Archer?"andshewaved one of her tiny hands,with small pointed nails and rolls of aged fatencirclingthewristlikeivorybracelets."MinewasmodelledinRomebythegreatFerrigiani.YoushouldhaveMay'sdone:nodoubthe'llhaveitdone,mychild.Herhandis large—it's thesemodernsports thatspread the joints—buttheskiniswhite.—Andwhen'stheweddingtobe?"shebrokeoff,fixinghereyesonArcher'sface.

"Oh—" Mrs. Welland murmured, while the young man, smiling at hisbetrothed, replied: "As soon as ever it can, if only you'll backme up,Mrs.Mingott."

"Wemustgivethemtimetogettoknoweachotheralittlebetter,mamma,"Mrs.Welland interposed,with theproper affectationof reluctance; towhichthe ancestress rejoined: "Knoweachother?Fiddlesticks!Everybody inNewYorkhasalwaysknowneverybody.Lettheyoungmanhavehisway,mydear;don'twaittillthebubble'soffthewine.MarrythembeforeLent;Imaycatchpneumoniaanywinternow,andIwanttogivethewedding-breakfast."

Thesesuccessivestatementswerereceivedwiththeproperexpressionsofamusement,incredulityandgratitude;andthevisitwasbreakingupinaveinofmildpleasantrywhenthedooropenedtoadmittheCountessOlenska,whoentered in bonnet and mantle followed by the unexpected figure of JuliusBeaufort.

There was a cousinly murmur of pleasure between the ladies, andMrs.MingottheldoutFerrigiani'smodeltothebanker."Ha!Beaufort,thisisararefavour!"(Shehadanoddforeignwayofaddressingmenbytheirsurnames.)

"Thanks. I wish it might happen oftener," said the visitor in his easyarrogantway. "I'm generally so tied down; but Imet theCountess Ellen inMadisonSquare,andshewasgoodenoughtoletmewalkhomewithher."

"Ah—Ihope the housewill be gayer, now thatEllen's here!" criedMrs.Mingottwith a glorious effrontery. "Sit down—sit down,Beaufort: push uptheyellowarmchair;nowI'vegotyouIwantagoodgossip.Ihearyourballwasmagnificent;andIunderstandyouinvitedMrs.LemuelStruthers?Well—I'veacuriositytoseethewomanmyself."

Shehadforgottenher relatives,whoweredriftingout into thehallunderEllen Olenska's guidance. Old Mrs. Mingott had always professed a greatadmiration for JuliusBeaufort, and therewasakindofkinship in their cool

domineeringwayandtheirshort-cuts throughtheconventions.NowshewaseagerlycurioustoknowwhathaddecidedtheBeaufortstoinvite(forthefirsttime)Mrs.LemuelStruthers, thewidowofStruthers'sShoe-polish,whohadreturnedthepreviousyearfromalonginitiatorysojourninEuropetolaysiegetothetightlittlecitadelofNewYork."OfcourseifyouandReginainviteherthe thing is settled.Well, we need new blood and newmoney—and I hearshe'sstillverygood-looking,"thecarnivorousoldladydeclared.

In thehall,whileMrs.WellandandMaydrewon their furs,Archer sawthattheCountessOlenskawaslookingathimwithafaintlyquestioningsmile.

"Ofcourseyouknowalready—aboutMayandme,"hesaid,answeringherlookwithashylaugh."ShescoldedmefornotgivingyouthenewslastnightattheOpera:Ihadherorderstotellyouthatwewereengaged—butIcouldn't,inthatcrowd."

The smile passed from Countess Olenska's eyes to her lips: she lookedyounger,moreliketheboldbrownEllenMingottofhisboyhood."OfcourseIknow;yes.AndI'msoglad.Butonedoesn'ttellsuchthingsfirstinacrowd."Theladieswereonthethresholdandsheheldoutherhand.

"Good-bye;comeandseemesomeday,"shesaid,stilllookingatArcher.

In the carriage, on thewaydownFifthAvenue, they talked pointedly ofMrs.Mingott,ofherage,herspirit,andallherwonderfulattributes.Noonealluded toEllenOlenska; butArcher knew thatMrs.Wellandwas thinking:"It'samistakeforEllentobeseen,theverydayafterherarrival,paradingupFifthAvenueatthecrowdedhourwithJuliusBeaufort—"andtheyoungmanhimself mentally added: "And she ought to know that a man who's justengageddoesn'tspendhistimecallingonmarriedwomen.ButIdaresayinthesetshe'slivedintheydo—theyneverdoanythingelse."And,inspiteofthecosmopolitan views onwhich he prided himself, he thanked heaven that hewasaNewYorker,andabouttoallyhimselfwithoneofhisownkind.

V.

ThenexteveningoldMr.SillertonJacksoncametodinewiththeArchers.

Mrs.Archerwasashywomanandshrankfromsociety;butshelikedtobewell-informedastoitsdoings.HeroldfriendMr.SillertonJacksonappliedtothe investigation of his friends' affairs the patience of a collector and thescience of a naturalist; and his sister,Miss Sophy Jackson, who lived withhim, andwas entertainedby all thepeoplewhocouldnot securehermuch-sought-afterbrother,broughthomebitsofminorgossipthatfilledoutusefully

thegapsinhispicture.

Therefore,wheneveranythinghappenedthatMrs.Archerwantedtoknowabout,sheaskedMr.Jacksontodine;andasshehonouredfewpeoplewithherinvitations,andassheandherdaughterJaneywereanexcellentaudience,Mr.Jacksonusually camehimself insteadof sendinghis sister. If he couldhavedictatedalltheconditions,hewouldhavechosentheeveningswhenNewlandwasout;notbecausetheyoungmanwasuncongenialtohim(thetwogotoncapitally at their club) but because the old anecdotist sometimes felt, onNewland'spart,atendencytoweighhisevidencethattheladiesofthefamilynevershowed.

Mr. Jackson, if perfection had been attainable on earth,would also haveaskedthatMrs.Archer'sfoodshouldbealittlebetter.ButthenNewYork,asfarbackasthemindofmancouldtravel,hadbeendividedintothetwogreatfundamentalgroupsoftheMingottsandMansonsandalltheirclan,whocaredabouteatingandclothesandmoney,andtheArcher-Newland-van-der-Luydentribe,whoweredevotedtotravel,horticultureandthebestfiction,andlookeddownonthegrosserformsofpleasure.

You couldn't have everything, after all. If you dined with the LovellMingotts you got canvas-back and terrapin and vintage wines; at AdelineArcher's you could talk about Alpine scenery and "TheMarble Faun"; andluckily the Archer Madeira had gone round the Cape. Therefore when afriendly summons came from Mrs. Archer, Mr. Jackson, who was a trueeclectic,wouldusuallysaytohissister:"I'vebeenalittlegoutysincemylastdinnerattheLovellMingotts'—itwilldomegoodtodietatAdeline's."

Mrs.Archer,whohadlongbeenawidow,livedwithhersonanddaughterinWestTwenty-eighthStreet.AnupperfloorwasdedicatedtoNewland,andthe two women squeezed themselves into narrower quarters below. In anunclouded harmony of tastes and interests they cultivated ferns inWardiancases,mademacramelaceandwoolembroideryonlinen,collectedAmericanrevolutionary glazed ware, subscribed to "Good Words," and read Ouida'snovels for the sake of the Italian atmosphere. (They preferred those aboutpeasant life, because of the descriptions of scenery and the pleasantersentiments,thoughingeneraltheylikednovelsaboutpeopleinsociety,whosemotives and habits were more comprehensible, spoke severely of Dickens,who"hadneverdrawnagentleman,"andconsideredThackeraylessathomeinthegreatworldthanBulwer—who,however,wasbeginningtobethoughtold-fashioned.)Mrs.andMissArcherwerebothgreatloversofscenery.Itwaswhat theyprincipallysoughtandadmiredon theiroccasional travelsabroad;considering architecture and painting as subjects for men, and chiefly forlearnedpersonswhoreadRuskin.Mrs.ArcherhadbeenbornaNewland,andmotheranddaughter,whowereas likeas sisters,wereboth, aspeople said,

"true Newlands"; tall, pale, and slightly round-shouldered, with long noses,sweet smiles and a kind of drooping distinction like that in certain fadedReynoldsportraits.Theirphysical resemblancewouldhavebeencomplete ifan elderly embonpoint hadnot stretchedMrs.Archer's blackbrocade,whileMissArcher'sbrownandpurplepoplinshung,astheyearswenton,moreandmoreslacklyonhervirginframe.

Mentally, the likeness between them, as Newland was aware, was lesscompletethantheiridenticalmannerismsoftenmadeitappear.Thelonghabitof living together inmutually dependent intimacy had given them the samevocabulary,andthesamehabitofbeginningtheirphrases"Motherthinks"or"Janeythinks,"accordingasoneortheotherwishedtoadvanceanopinionofherown;but in reality,whileMrs.Archer's sereneunimaginativeness restedeasilyintheacceptedandfamiliar,Janeywassubjecttostartsandaberrationsoffancywellingupfromspringsofsuppressedromance.

Motheranddaughteradoredeachotherandreveredtheirsonandbrother;andArcher loved themwith a tendernessmadecompunctious anduncriticalbythesenseoftheirexaggeratedadmiration,andbyhissecretsatisfactioninit. After all, he thought it a good thing for a man to have his authorityrespectedinhisownhouse,evenifhissenseofhumoursometimesmadehimquestiontheforceofhismandate.

On this occasion the youngman was very sure thatMr. Jackson wouldratherhavehadhimdineout;buthehadhisownreasonsfornotdoingso.

OfcourseoldJacksonwanted to talkaboutEllenOlenska,andofcourseMrs.ArcherandJaneywantedtohearwhathehadtotell.AllthreewouldbeslightlyembarrassedbyNewland'spresence,nowthathisprospectiverelationtotheMingottclanhadbeenmadeknown;andtheyoungmanwaitedwithanamusedcuriositytoseehowtheywouldturnthedifficulty.

Theybegan,obliquely,bytalkingaboutMrs.LemuelStruthers.

"It's a pity theBeauforts asked her,"Mrs.Archer said gently. "But thenReginaalwaysdoeswhathetellsher;andBEAUFORT—"

"CertainnuancesescapeBeaufort,"saidMr.Jackson,cautiouslyinspectingthe broiled shad, andwondering for the thousandth timewhyMrs.Archer'scook always burnt the roe to a cinder. (Newland, who had long shared hiswonder, could always detect it in the olderman's expression ofmelancholydisapproval.)

"Oh, necessarily; Beaufort is a vulgar man," said Mrs. Archer. "Mygrandfather Newland always used to say to mymother: 'Whatever you do,don't let thatfellowBeaufortbeintroducedtothegirls.'Butat leasthe'shadtheadvantageofassociatingwithgentlemen;inEnglandtoo,theysay.It'sall

verymysterious—" She glanced at Janey and paused. She and Janey knewevery fold of the Beaufortmystery, but in publicMrs. Archer continued toassumethatthesubjectwasnotonefortheunmarried.

"ButthisMrs.Struthers,"Mrs.Archercontinued;"whatdidyousaySHEwas,Sillerton?"

"Outofamine:orratheroutofthesaloonattheheadofthepit.ThenwithLivingWax-Works, touringNewEngland.After thepolice brokeTHATup,they say she lived—"Mr. Jackson in his turn glanced at Janey,whose eyesbegantobulgefromunderherprominentlids.TherewerestillhiatusesforherinMrs.Struthers'spast.

"Then,"Mr.Jacksoncontinued(andArchersawhewaswonderingwhynoone had told the butler never to slice cucumbers with a steel knife), "thenLemuelStrutherscamealong.Theysayhisadvertiserusedthegirl'sheadforthe shoe-polish posters; her hair's intensely black, you know—the Egyptianstyle. Anyhow, he—eventually—married her." There were volumes ofinnuendointhewaythe"eventually"wasspaced,andeachsyllablegivenitsduestress.

"Oh,well—at the passwe've come to nowadays, it doesn'tmatter," saidMrs. Archer indifferently. The ladies were not really interested in Mrs.Struthers just then; the subject of Ellen Olenska was too fresh and tooabsorbingtothem.Indeed,Mrs.Struthers'snamehadbeenintroducedbyMrs.Archer only that she might presently be able to say: "And Newland's newcousin—CountessOlenska?WasSHEattheballtoo?"

Therewasafainttouchofsarcasminthereferencetoherson,andArcherknew it and had expected it. Even Mrs. Archer, who was seldom undulypleasedwithhumanevents,hadbeenaltogethergladofherson'sengagement.("Especially after that silly business with Mrs. Rushworth," as she hadremarkedtoJaney,alludingtowhathadonceseemedtoNewlandatragedyofwhichhissoulwouldalwaysbearthescar.)

Therewas no bettermatch inNewYork thanMayWelland, look at thequestionfromwhateverpointyouchose.OfcoursesuchamarriagewasonlywhatNewlandwasentitledto;butyoungmenaresofoolishandincalculable—andsomewomensoensnaringandunscrupulous—thatitwasnothingshortofamiracletoseeone'sonlysonsafepasttheSirenIsleandinthehavenofablamelessdomesticity.

AllthisMrs.Archerfelt,andhersonknewshefelt;butheknewalsothatshehadbeenperturbedbytheprematureannouncementofhisengagement,orratherbyitscause;anditwasforthatreason—becauseonthewholehewasatenderandindulgentmaster—thathehadstayedathomethatevening."It'snot

that I don't approve of the Mingotts' esprit de corps; but why Newland'sengagement should be mixed up with that Olenska woman's comings andgoings I don't see,"Mrs.Archer grumbled to Janey, theonlywitnessof herslightlapsesfromperfectsweetness.

She had behaved beautifully—and in beautiful behaviour she wasunsurpassed—during the call onMrs.Welland; butNewland knew (and hisbetrothed doubtless guessed) that all through the visit she and Janey werenervously on thewatch forMadameOlenska's possible intrusion; andwhenthey left thehouse togethershehadpermittedherself tosay toherson:"I'mthankfulthatAugustaWellandreceivedusalone."

These indications of inward disturbancemovedArcher themore that hetoofeltthattheMingottshadgonealittletoofar.But,asitwasagainstalltherules of their code that themother and son should ever allude towhatwasuppermost in their thoughts, he simply replied: "Oh, well, there's always aphase of family parties to be gone throughwhenone gets engaged, and thesoonerit'soverthebetter."Atwhichhismothermerelypursedherlipsunderthelaceveilthathungdownfromhergreyvelvetbonnettrimmedwithfrostedgrapes.

Her revenge, he felt—her lawful revenge—would be to "draw" Mr.JacksonthateveningontheCountessOlenska;and,havingpubliclydonehisdutyasafuturememberoftheMingottclan,theyoungmanhadnoobjectiontohearing the ladydiscussed inprivate—except that thesubjectwasalreadybeginningtoborehim.

Mr. Jackson had helped himself to a slice of the tepid filet which themournfulbutlerhadhandedhimwithalookasscepticalashisown,andhadrejected the mushroom sauce after a scarcely perceptible sniff. He lookedbaffled and hungry, and Archer reflected that he would probably finish hismealonEllenOlenska.

Mr. Jackson leaned back in his chair, and glanced up at the candlelitArchers,NewlandsandvanderLuydenshangingindarkframesonthedarkwalls.

"Ah, how your grandfather Archer loved a good dinner, my dearNewland!"hesaid,hiseyesontheportraitofaplumpfull-chestedyoungmanin a stock and a blue coat,with a view of awhite-columned country-housebehind him. "Well—well—well ... Iwonderwhat hewould have said to alltheseforeignmarriages!"

Mrs.ArcherignoredtheallusiontotheancestralcuisineandMr.Jacksoncontinuedwithdeliberation:"No,shewasNOTattheball."

"Ah—" Mrs. Archer murmured, in a tone that implied: "She had that

decency."

"PerhapstheBeaufortsdon'tknowher,"Janeysuggested,withherartlessmalice.

Mr.Jacksongavea faint sip,as ifhehadbeen tasting invisibleMadeira."Mrs. Beaufort may not—but Beaufort certainly does, for she was seenwalkingupFifthAvenuethisafternoonwithhimbythewholeofNewYork."

"Mercy—"moanedMrs.Archer, evidently perceiving the uselessness oftryingtoascribetheactionsofforeignerstoasenseofdelicacy.

"Iwonder if shewears a round hat or a bonnet in the afternoon," Janeyspeculated."AttheOperaIknowshehadondarkbluevelvet,perfectlyplainandflat—likeanight-gown."

"Janey!" said her mother; and Miss Archer blushed and tried to lookaudacious.

"It was, at any rate, in better taste not to go to the ball," Mrs. Archercontinued.

A spirit of perversity moved her son to rejoin: "I don't think it was aquestionoftastewithher.Maysaidshemeanttogo,andthendecidedthatthedressinquestionwasn'tsmartenough."

Mrs.Archersmiledatthisconfirmationofherinference."PoorEllen,"shesimply remarked; adding compassionately: "We must always bear in mindwhataneccentricbringing-upMedoraMansongaveher.Whatcanyouexpectofagirlwhowasallowedtowearblacksatinathercoming-outball?"

"Ah—don'tIrememberherinit!"saidMr.Jackson;adding:"Poorgirl!"inthetoneofonewho,whileenjoyingthememory,hadfullyunderstoodatthetimewhatthesightportended.

"It'sodd,"Janeyremarked,"thatsheshouldhavekeptsuchanuglynameasEllen. Ishouldhavechangedit toElaine."Sheglancedabout the table toseetheeffectofthis.

Herbrotherlaughed."WhyElaine?"

"Idon'tknow;itsoundsmore—morePolish,"saidJaney,blushing.

"Itsoundsmoreconspicuous;andthatcanhardlybewhatshewishes,"saidMrs.Archerdistantly.

"Why not?" broke in her son, growing suddenly argumentative. "Whyshouldn'tshebeconspicuousifshechooses?Whyshouldsheslinkaboutasifitwereshewhohaddisgracedherself?She's'poorEllen'certainly,becauseshehad the bad luck tomake awretchedmarriage; but I don't see that that's a

reasonforhidingherheadasifsheweretheculprit."

"That,Isuppose,"saidMr.Jackson,speculatively,"isthelinetheMingottsmeantotake."

Theyoungmanreddened."Ididn'thavetowaitfortheircue,ifthat'swhatyoumean, sir.MadameOlenskahashad anunhappy life: that doesn'tmakeheranoutcast."

"Therearerumours,"beganMr.Jackson,glancingatJaney.

"Oh, I know: the secretary," the young man took him up. "Nonsense,mother; Janey's grown-up. They say, don't they," he went on, "that thesecretaryhelpedher togetaway fromherbruteofahusband,whokeptherpracticallyaprisoner?Well,whatifhedid?Ihopethereisn'tamanamonguswhowouldn'thavedonethesameinsuchacase."

Mr.Jacksonglancedoverhisshouldertosaytothesadbutler:"Perhaps...that sauce ... just a little, after all—"; then, having helped himself, heremarked:"I'mtoldshe'slookingforahouse.Shemeanstolivehere."

"Ihearshemeanstogetadivorce,"saidJaneyboldly.

"Ihopeshewill!"Archerexclaimed.

Thewordhadfallenlikeabombshellinthepureandtranquilatmosphereof theArcherdining-room.Mrs.Archer raisedherdelicateeye-brows in theparticular curve that signified: "The butler—" and the young man, himselfmindfulofthebadtasteofdiscussingsuchintimatemattersinpublic,hastilybranchedoffintoanaccountofhisvisittooldMrs.Mingott.

After dinner, according to immemorial custom, Mrs. Archer and Janeytrailed their long silk draperies up to the drawing-room, where, while thegentlemen smoked below stairs, they sat beside a Carcel lamp with anengravedglobe,facingeachotheracrossarosewoodwork-tablewithagreensilk bag under it, and stitched at the two ends of a tapestry band of field-flowersdestinedtoadornan"occasional"chairinthedrawing-roomofyoungMrs.NewlandArcher.

While this rite was in progress in the drawing-room,Archer settledMr.Jackson inanarmchairnear the fire in theGothic libraryandhandedhimacigar.Mr. Jacksonsank into thearmchairwith satisfaction, lithiscigarwithperfectconfidence(itwasNewlandwhoboughtthem),andstretchinghisthinoldanklestothecoals,said:"Yousaythesecretarymerelyhelpedhertogetaway,my dear fellow?Well, hewas still helping her a year later, then; forsomebodymet'emlivingatLausannetogether."

Newlandreddened."Livingtogether?Well,whynot?Whohadtherighttomake her life over if she hadn't? I'm sick of the hypocrisy thatwould bury

aliveawomanofherageifherhusbandpreferstolivewithharlots."

Hestoppedandturnedawayangrilytolighthiscigar."Womenoughttobefree—asfreeasweare,"hedeclared,makingadiscoveryofwhichhewastooirritatedtomeasuretheterrificconsequences.

Mr.Sillerton Jackson stretchedhis ankles nearer the coals and emitted asardonicwhistle.

"Well,"hesaidafterapause,"apparentlyCountOlenskitakesyourview;forIneverheardofhishavingliftedafingertogethiswifeback."

VI.

Thatevening,afterMr.Jacksonhadtakenhimselfaway,andtheladieshadretired to their chintz-curtained bedroom, Newland Archer mountedthoughtfullytohisownstudy.Avigilanthandhad,asusual,keptthefirealiveand the lamp trimmed; and the room, with its rows and rows of books, itsbronzeandsteelstatuettesof"TheFencers"onthemantelpieceanditsmanyphotographsoffamouspictures,lookedsingularlyhome-likeandwelcoming.

As he dropped into his armchair near the fire his eyes rested on a largephotographofMayWelland,whichtheyounggirlhadgivenhiminthefirstdaysoftheirromance,andwhichhadnowdisplacedalltheotherportraitsonthe table.With anew senseof awehe looked at the frank forehead, seriouseyesandgayinnocentmouthoftheyoungcreaturewhosesoul'scustodianhewas to be. That terrifying product of the social system he belonged to andbelievedin,theyounggirlwhoknewnothingandexpectedeverything,lookedbackathimlikeastrangerthroughMayWelland'sfamiliarfeatures;andoncemoreitwasborneinonhimthatmarriagewasnotthesafeanchoragehehadbeentaughttothink,butavoyageonunchartedseas.

The case of theCountessOlenska had stirred up old settled convictionsand set them drifting dangerously through his mind. His own exclamation:"Womenshouldbe free—as freeasweare," struck to the rootofaproblemthat it was agreed in his world to regard as non-existent. "Nice" women,however wronged, would never claim the kind of freedom he meant, andgenerous-mindedmenlikehimselfweretherefore—intheheatofargument—themore chivalrously ready to concede it to them. Such verbal generositieswere in fact only a humbugging disguise of the inexorable conventions thattiedthingstogetherandboundpeopledowntotheoldpattern.Butherehewaspledged todefend,on thepartofhisbetrothed'scousin,conduct that,onhisownwife'spart,wouldjustifyhimincallingdownonherallthethundersof

Church andState.Of course the dilemmawas purely hypothetical; since hewasn't a blackguard Polish nobleman, it was absurd to speculate what hiswife'srightswouldbeifheWERE.ButNewlandArcherwastooimaginativenot to feel that, inhiscaseandMay's, the tiemightgall for reasons far lessgrossandpalpable.Whatcouldheandshereallyknowofeachother,sinceitwashisduty,asa"decent"fellow,toconcealhispastfromher,andhers,asamarriageable girl, to have no past to conceal?What if, for someone of thesubtler reasons that would tell with both of them, they should tire of eachother,misunderstandorirritateeachother?Hereviewedhisfriends'marriages—thesupposedlyhappyones—andsawnonethatanswered,evenremotely,tothe passionate and tender comradeship which he pictured as his permanentrelationwithMayWelland.Heperceivedthatsuchapicturepresupposed,onherpart, the experience, theversatility, the freedomof judgment,which shehadbeencarefullytrainednottopossess;andwithashiverofforebodinghesawhismarriagebecomingwhatmostoftheothermarriagesabouthimwere:adullassociationofmaterialandsocialinterestsheldtogetherbyignoranceontheonesideandhypocrisyontheother.LawrenceLeffertsoccurredtohimasthehusbandwhohadmostcompletelyrealisedthisenviableideal.Asbecamethe high-priest of form, he had formed a wife so completely to his ownconvenience that, in the most conspicuous moments of his frequent love-affairs with other men's wives, she went about in smiling unconsciousness,sayingthat"Lawrencewassofrightfullystrict";andhadbeenknowntoblushindignantly,andaverthergaze,whensomeonealludedinherpresencetothefactthatJuliusBeaufort(asbecamea"foreigner"ofdoubtfulorigin)hadwhatwasknowninNewYorkas"anotherestablishment."

ArchertriedtoconsolehimselfwiththethoughtthathewasnotquitesuchanassasLarryLefferts,norMaysuchasimpletonaspoorGertrude;butthedifferencewasafteralloneofintelligenceandnotofstandards.Inrealitytheyalllivedinakindofhieroglyphicworld,wheretherealthingwasneversaidordoneor even thought,butonly representedbya setof arbitrary signs; aswhen Mrs. Welland, who knew exactly why Archer had pressed her toannounce her daughter's engagement at the Beaufort ball (and had indeedexpectedhimtodonoless),yetfeltobligedtosimulatereluctance,andtheairofhavinghadherhand forced,quiteas, in thebooksonPrimitiveMan thatpeople of advanced culture were beginning to read, the savage bride isdraggedwithshrieksfromherparents'tent.

The result,of course,was that theyounggirlwhowas thecentreof thiselaboratesystemofmystificationremainedthemore inscrutableforherveryfranknessandassurance.Shewasfrank,poordarling,becauseshehadnothingtoconceal,assuredbecausesheknewofnothing tobeonherguardagainst;andwithnobetterpreparationthanthis,shewastobeplungedovernightintowhatpeopleevasivelycalled"thefactsoflife."

The young man was sincerely but placidly in love. He delighted in theradiantgoodlooksofhisbetrothed,inherhealth,herhorsemanship,hergraceandquicknessatgames,andtheshyinterestinbooksandideasthatshewasbeginning to develop under his guidance. (She had advanced far enough tojoin him in ridiculing the Idyls of the King, but not to feel the beauty ofUlyssesandtheLotusEaters.)Shewasstraightforward,loyalandbrave;shehadasenseofhumour(chieflyprovedbyherlaughingatHISjokes);andhesuspected,inthedepthsofherinnocently-gazingsoul,aglowoffeelingthatitwould be a joy towaken. Butwhen he had gone the brief round of her hereturneddiscouragedbythethoughtthatallthisfranknessandinnocencewereonlyanartificialproduct.Untrainedhumannaturewasnotfrankandinnocent;it was full of the twists and defences of an instinctive guile. And he felthimself oppressed by this creation of factitious purity, so cunninglymanufactured by a conspiracy of mothers and aunts and grandmothers andlong-deadancestresses,becauseitwassupposedtobewhathewanted,whathe had a right to, in order that he might exercise his lordly pleasure insmashingitlikeanimagemadeofsnow.

Therewasacertaintritenessinthesereflections:theywerethosehabitualtoyoungmenontheapproachoftheirweddingday.Buttheyweregenerallyaccompanied by a sense of compunction and self-abasement of whichNewlandArcherfeltnotrace.Hecouldnotdeplore(asThackeray'sheroessooftenexasperatedhimbydoing)thathehadnotablankpagetoofferhisbrideinexchangefortheunblemishedoneshewastogivetohim.HecouldnotgetawayfromthefactthatifhehadbeenbroughtupasshehadtheywouldhavebeennomorefittofindtheirwayaboutthantheBabesintheWood;norcouldhe, for all his anxious cogitations, see any honest reason (any, that is,unconnectedwithhisownmomentarypleasure,andthepassionofmasculinevanity) why his bride should not have been allowed the same freedom ofexperienceashimself.

Suchquestions,atsuchanhour,wereboundtodriftthroughhismind;buthewasconsciousthattheiruncomfortablepersistenceandprecisionweredueto the inopportunearrivalof theCountessOlenska.Herehewas,at theverymomentofhisbetrothal—amomentforpurethoughtsandcloudlesshopes—pitchforked into a coil of scandal which raised all the special problems hewould have preferred to let lie. "Hang Ellen Olenska!" he grumbled, as hecoveredhis fire andbegan to undress.He couldnot really seewhyher fateshouldhave the least bearingonhis; yet hedimly felt that hehadonly justbegun tomeasure the risks of the championshipwhich his engagement hadforceduponhim.

*

Afewdayslatertheboltfell.

TheLovellMingottshadsentoutcardsforwhatwasknownas"aformaldinner"(thatis,threeextrafootmen,twodishesforeachcourse,andaRomanpunch in the middle), and had headed their invitations with the words "Tomeet the Countess Olenska," in accordance with the hospitable Americanfashion, which treats strangers as if theywere royalties, or at least as theirambassadors.

TheguestshadbeenselectedwithaboldnessanddiscriminationinwhichtheinitiatedrecognisedthefirmhandofCatherinetheGreat.Associatedwithsuch immemorial standbys as the Selfridge Merrys, who were askedeverywherebecausetheyalwayshadbeen,theBeauforts,onwhomtherewasaclaimof relationship,andMr.SillertonJacksonandhis sisterSophy (whowentwhereverherbrothertoldherto),weresomeofthemostfashionableandyetmost irreproachable of the dominant "youngmarried" set; theLawrenceLeffertses,Mrs.LeffertsRushworth (the lovelywidow), theHarryThorleys,theReggieChiversesandyoungMorrisDagonetandhiswife(whowasavander Luyden). The company indeed was perfectly assorted, since all themembers belonged to the little inner group of people who, during the longNew York season, disported themselves together daily and nightly withapparentlyundiminishedzest.

Forty-eight hours later the unbelievable had happened; every one hadrefusedtheMingotts'invitationexcepttheBeaufortsandoldMr.Jacksonandhissister.TheintendedslightwasemphasisedbythefactthateventheReggieChiverses,whowereoftheMingottclan,wereamongthoseinflictingit;andbytheuniformwordingofthenotes,inallofwhichthewriters"regrettedthatthey were unable to accept," without the mitigating plea of a "previousengagement"thatordinarycourtesyprescribed.

NewYork societywas, in those days, far too small, and too scant in itsresources, for every one in it (including livery-stable-keepers, butlers andcooks)not toknowexactlyonwhicheveningspeoplewere free; and itwasthuspossible for the recipients ofMrs.LovellMingott's invitations tomakecruellycleartheirdeterminationnottomeettheCountessOlenska.

The blow was unexpected; but the Mingotts, as their way was, met itgallantly. Mrs. Lovell Mingott confided the case to Mrs. Welland, whoconfided it to Newland Archer; who, aflame at the outrage, appealedpassionatelyandauthoritatively tohismother;who,afterapainfulperiodofinwardresistanceandoutwardtemporising,succumbedtohisinstances(asshealwaysdid),andimmediatelyembracinghiscausewithanenergyredoubledbyherprevioushesitations,putonhergreyvelvetbonnetandsaid:"I'llgoandseeLouisavanderLuyden."

TheNewYorkofNewlandArcher'sdaywasasmallandslipperypyramid,

inwhich,asyet,hardlyafissurehadbeenmadeorafootholdgained.Atitsbase was a firm foundation of what Mrs. Archer called "plain people"; anhonourablebutobscuremajorityofrespectablefamilieswho(asinthecaseoftheSpicersortheLeffertsesortheJacksons)hadbeenraisedabovetheirlevelbymarriagewith one of the ruling clans. People,Mrs.Archer always said,werenotasparticularastheyusedtobe;andwitholdCatherineSpicerrulingoneendofFifthAvenue,andJuliusBeauforttheother,youcouldn'texpecttheoldtraditionstolastmuchlonger.

Firmlynarrowingupwardfromthiswealthybutinconspicuoussubstratumwas the compact and dominant group which the Mingotts, Newlands,ChiversesandMansons soactively represented.Mostpeople imagined themtobetheveryapexofthepyramid;buttheythemselves(atleastthoseofMrs.Archer's generation) were aware that, in the eyes of the professionalgenealogist, only a still smaller number of families could lay claim to thateminence.

"Don't tellme,"Mrs.Archerwould say to her children, "all thismodernnewspaper rubbishaboutaNewYorkaristocracy. If there isone,neither theMingottsnortheMansonsbelongtoit;no,northeNewlandsortheChiverseseither.Ourgrandfathersandgreat-grandfatherswere just respectableEnglishor Dutch merchants, who came to the colonies to make their fortune, andstayedherebecause theydid sowell.Oneofyourgreat-grandfathers signedtheDeclaration,andanotherwasageneralonWashington'sstaff,andreceivedGeneralBurgoyne'sswordafterthebattleofSaratoga.Thesearethingstobeproudof,buttheyhavenothingtodowithrankorclass.NewYorkhasalwaysbeenacommercialcommunity,andtherearenotmorethanthreefamiliesinitwhocanclaimanaristocraticoriginintherealsenseoftheword."

Mrs.Archerandher sonanddaughter, likeeveryoneelse inNewYork,knewwhotheseprivilegedbeingswere:theDagonetsofWashingtonSquare,whocameofanoldEnglishcountyfamilyalliedwiththePittsandFoxes;theLannings,whohadintermarriedwiththedescendantsofCountdeGrasse,andthe van der Luydens, direct descendants of the first Dutch governor ofManhattan,andrelatedbypre-revolutionarymarriagestoseveralmembersoftheFrenchandBritisharistocracy.

TheLanningssurvivedonlyinthepersonoftwoveryoldbutlivelyMissLannings,wholivedcheerfullyandreminiscentlyamongfamilyportraitsandChippendale;theDagonetswereaconsiderableclan,alliedtothebestnamesinBaltimoreandPhiladelphia;butthevanderLuydens,whostoodaboveallof them,had faded intoakindof super-terrestrial twilight, fromwhichonlytwo figures impressively emerged; those of Mr. and Mrs. Henry van derLuyden.

Mrs.HenryvanderLuydenhadbeenLouisaDagonet,andhermotherhadbeen thegranddaughterofColonelduLac,ofanoldChannel Island family,whohadfoughtunderCornwallisandhadsettledinMaryland,afterthewar,with his bride, Lady Angelica Trevenna, fifth daughter of the Earl of St.Austrey. The tie between theDagonets, the du Lacs ofMaryland, and theiraristocraticCornish kinsfolk, theTrevennas, had always remained close andcordial.Mr.andMrs.vanderLuydenhadmorethanoncepaidlongvisitstothe present head of the house of Trevenna, the Duke of St. Austrey, at hiscountry-seatinCornwallandatSt.AustreyinGloucestershire;andhisGracehad frequently announced his intention of some day returning their visit(withouttheDuchess,whofearedtheAtlantic).

Mr.andMrs.vanderLuydendivided their timebetweenTrevenna, theirplaceinMaryland,andSkuytercliff,thegreatestateontheHudsonwhichhadbeenoneof thecolonialgrantsof theDutchgovernment to the famous firstGovernor,andofwhichMr.vanderLuydenwasstill "Patroon."Their largesolemnhouseinMadisonAvenuewasseldomopened,andwhentheycametotowntheyreceivedinitonlytheirmostintimatefriends.

"I wish you would go with me, Newland," his mother said, suddenlypausingatthedooroftheBrowncoupe."Louisaisfondofyou;andofcourseit'sonaccountofdearMaythatI'mtakingthisstep—andalsobecause,ifwedon'tallstandtogether,there'llbenosuchthingasSocietyleft."

VII.

Mrs.HenryvanderLuydenlistenedinsilencetohercousinMrs.Archer'snarrative.

Itwasallverywell to tellyourself inadvance thatMrs.vanderLuydenwasalwayssilent,andthat,thoughnon-committalbynatureandtraining,shewasverykindtothepeopleshereallyliked.Evenpersonalexperienceofthesefactswasnotalwaysaprotectionfromthechillthatdescendedononeinthehigh-ceilinged white-walled Madison Avenue drawing-room, with the palebrocaded armchairs so obviously uncovered for the occasion, and the gauzestillveilingtheormolumantelornamentsandthebeautifuloldcarvedframeofGainsborough's"LadyAngelicaduLac."

Mrs.vanderLuyden'sportraitbyHuntington(inblackvelvetandVenetianpoint)facedthatofherlovelyancestress.Itwasgenerallyconsidered"asfineasaCabanel,"and,thoughtwentyyearshadelapsedsinceitsexecution,wasstill"aperfect likeness."Indeed theMrs.vanderLuydenwhosatbeneath it

listening toMrs.Archermighthavebeen the twin-sisterof the fair and stillyoungishwomandroopingagainstagiltarmchairbeforeagreenrepcurtain.Mrs.vanderLuydenstillworeblackvelvetandVenetianpointwhenshewentintosociety—or rather (sincesheneverdinedout)whenshe threwopenherowndoors toreceive it.Herfairhair,whichhadfadedwithout turninggrey,was still parted in flat overlapping points on her forehead, and the straightnosethatdividedherpaleblueeyeswasonlyalittlemorepinchedaboutthenostrils thanwhen the portrait had been painted. She always, indeed, struckNewland Archer as having been rather gruesomely preserved in the airlessatmosphere of a perfectly irreproachable existence, as bodies caught inglacierskeepforyearsarosylife-in-death.

Likeallhisfamily,heesteemedandadmiredMrs.vanderLuyden;buthefound her gentle bending sweetness less approachable than the grimness ofsome of hismother's old aunts, fierce spinsterswho said "No" on principlebeforetheyknewwhattheyweregoingtobeasked.

Mrs.vanderLuyden'sattitudesaidneitheryesnorno,butalwaysappearedtoinclinetoclemencytillherthinlips,waveringintotheshadowofasmile,madethealmostinvariablereply:"Ishallfirsthavetotalkthisoverwithmyhusband."

She and Mr. van der Luyden were so exactly alike that Archer oftenwonderedhow, after fortyyearsof the closest conjugality, two suchmergedidentitieseverseparatedthemselvesenoughforanythingascontroversialasatalking-over.Butasneitherhadeverreachedadecisionwithoutprefacingitbythismysteriousconclave,Mrs.Archerandherson,havingsetforththeircase,waitedresignedlyforthefamiliarphrase.

Mrs.vanderLuyden,however,whohad seldomsurprisedanyone,nowsurprisedthembyreachingherlonghandtowardthebell-rope.

"Ithink,"shesaid,"IshouldlikeHenrytohearwhatyouhavetoldme."

Afootmanappeared,towhomshegravelyadded:"IfMr.vanderLuydenhas finished reading the newspaper, please ask him to be kind enough tocome."

She said "reading the newspaper" in the tone inwhich aMinister'swifemighthavesaid:"PresidingataCabinetmeeting"—notfromanyarroganceofmind,butbecausethehabitofalife-time,andtheattitudeofherfriendsandrelations,hadledhertoconsiderMr.vanderLuyden'sleastgestureashavinganalmostsacerdotalimportance.

HerpromptnessofactionshowedthatsheconsideredthecaseaspressingasMrs.Archer;but, lestsheshouldbe thought tohavecommittedherself inadvance,sheadded,withthesweetestlook:"Henryalwaysenjoysseeingyou,

dearAdeline;andhewillwishtocongratulateNewland."

ThedoubledoorshadsolemnlyreopenedandbetweenthemappearedMr.Henry van der Luyden, tall, spare and frock-coated, with faded fair hair, astraightnoselikehiswife'sandthesamelookoffrozengentlenessineyesthatweremerelypalegreyinsteadofpaleblue.

Mr.vanderLuydengreetedMrs.Archerwithcousinlyaffability,profferedtoNewland low-voicedcongratulationscouched in thesame languageashiswife's,andseatedhimselfinoneofthebrocadearmchairswiththesimplicityofareigningsovereign.

"IhadjustfinishedreadingtheTimes,"hesaid,layinghislongfinger-tipstogether. "In town my mornings are so much occupied that I find it moreconvenienttoreadthenewspapersafterluncheon."

"Ah,there'sagreatdealtobesaidforthatplan—indeedIthinkmyuncleEgmontusedtosayhefounditlessagitatingnottoreadthemorningpaperstillafterdinner,"saidMrs.Archerresponsively.

"Yes:mygoodfatherabhorredhurry.Butnowweliveinaconstantrush,"saidMr.vanderLuydeninmeasuredtones,lookingwithpleasantdeliberationaboutthelargeshroudedroomwhichtoArcherwassocompleteanimageofitsowners.

"ButIhopeyouHADfinishedyourreading,Henry?"hiswifeinterposed.

"Quite—quite,"hereassuredher.

"ThenIshouldlikeAdelinetotellyou—"

"Oh,it'sreallyNewland'sstory,"saidhismothersmiling;andproceededtorehearseoncemorethemonstroustaleoftheaffrontinflictedonMrs.LovellMingott.

"Of course," she ended, "Augusta Welland and Mary Mingott both feltthat,especiallyinviewofNewland'sengagement,youandHenryOUGHTTOKNOW."

"Ah—"saidMr.vanderLuyden,drawingadeepbreath.

Therewasasilenceduringwhichthetickofthemonumentalormoluclockonthewhitemarblemantelpiecegrewas loudas theboomofaminute-gun.Archer contemplatedwith awe the two slender faded figures, seated sidebyside in a kind of viceregal rigidity, mouthpieces of some remote ancestralauthority which fate compelled them to wield, when they would so muchratherhave lived in simplicity and seclusion,digging invisibleweedsoutofthe perfect lawns of Skuytercliff, and playing Patience together in theevenings.

Mr.vanderLuydenwasthefirsttospeak.

"You really think this is due to some—some intentional interference ofLawrenceLefferts's?"heenquired,turningtoArcher.

"I'mcertainofit,sir.Larryhasbeengoingitratherharderthanusuallately—ifcousinLouisawon'tmindmymentioningit—havingratherastiffaffairwith the postmaster's wife in their village, or some one of that sort; andwheneverpoorGertrudeLeffertsbeginstosuspectanything,andhe'safraidoftrouble,hegetsupafussofthiskind,toshowhowawfullymoralheis,andtalksatthetopofhisvoiceabouttheimpertinenceofinvitinghiswifetomeetpeoplehedoesn'twishhertoknow.He'ssimplyusingMadameOlenskaasalightning-rod;I'veseenhimtrythesamethingoftenbefore."

"TheLEFFERTSES!—"saidMrs.vanderLuyden.

"TheLEFFERTSES!—"echoedMrs.Archer."WhatwoulduncleEgmonthavesaidofLawrenceLefferts'spronouncingonanybody'ssocialposition?ItshowswhatSocietyhascometo."

"We'llhopeithasnotquitecometothat,"saidMr.vanderLuydenfirmly.

"Ah,ifonlyyouandLouisawentoutmore!"sighedMrs.Archer.

Butinstantlyshebecameawareofhermistake.ThevanderLuydensweremorbidlysensitivetoanycriticismoftheirsecludedexistence.Theywerethearbitersoffashion,theCourtoflastAppeal,andtheyknewit,andbowedtotheir fate.Butbeingshyandretiringpersons,withnonatural inclination fortheirpart,theylivedasmuchaspossibleinthesylvansolitudeofSkuytercliff,andwhentheycametotown,declinedallinvitationsonthepleaofMrs.vanderLuyden'shealth.

NewlandArcher came to hismother's rescue. "Everybody in NewYorkknowswhat you and cousinLouisa represent. That'swhyMrs.Mingott feltshe ought not to allow this slight on Countess Olenska to pass withoutconsultingyou."

Mrs.vanderLuydenglancedatherhusband,whoglancedbackather.

"ItistheprinciplethatIdislike,"saidMr.vanderLuyden."Aslongasamember of a well-known family is backed up by that family it should beconsidered—final."

"Itseemssotome,"saidhiswife,asifshewereproducinganewthought.

"Ihadno idea,"Mr.vanderLuydencontinued,"that thingshadcometosuchapass."Hepaused,and lookedathiswifeagain. "Itoccurs tome,mydear,thattheCountessOlenskaisalreadyasortofrelation—throughMedoraManson'sfirsthusband.Atanyrate,shewillbewhenNewlandmarries."He

turned toward the young man. "Have you read this morning's Times,Newland?"

"Why, yes, sir," saidArcher,who usually tossed off half a dozen paperswithhismorningcoffee.

Husband and wife looked at each other again. Their pale eyes clungtogether in prolonged and serious consultation; then a faint smile flutteredoverMrs.vanderLuyden'sface.Shehadevidentlyguessedandapproved.

Mr.vanderLuydenturnedtoMrs.Archer."IfLouisa'shealthallowedhertodineout—IwishyouwouldsaytoMrs.LovellMingott—sheandIwouldhave been happy to—er—fill the places of the Lawrence Leffertses at herdinner." He paused to let the irony of this sink in. "As you know, this isimpossible."Mrs.Archer sounded a sympathetic assent. "ButNewland tellsme he has read this morning's Times; therefore he has probably seen thatLouisa'srelative,theDukeofSt.Austrey,arrivesnextweekontheRussia.Heis coming to enter his new sloop, the Guinevere, in next summer'sInternational Cup Race; and also to have a little canvasback shooting atTrevenna."Mr.vanderLuydenpausedagain,andcontinuedwith increasingbenevolence: "Before taking him down to Maryland we are inviting a fewfriends tomeethimhere—onlya littledinner—witha receptionafterward. IamsureLouisawillbeasgladasIamifCountessOlenskawillletusincludeheramongourguests."Hegotup,benthislongbodywithastifffriendlinesstowardhiscousin,andadded:"IthinkIhaveLouisa'sauthorityforsayingthatshewillherselfleavetheinvitationtodinewhenshedrivesoutpresently:withourcards—ofcoursewithourcards."

Mrs.Archer,whoknewthistobeahintthattheseventeen-handchestnutswhichwereneverkeptwaitingwereatthedoor,rosewithahurriedmurmurofthanks. Mrs. van der Luyden beamed on her with the smile of EstherintercedingwithAhasuerus;butherhusbandraisedaprotestinghand.

"There is nothing to thankme for, dearAdeline; nothingwhatever. ThiskindofthingmustnothappeninNewYork;itshallnot,aslongasIcanhelpit,"hepronouncedwithsovereigngentlenessashesteeredhiscousins to thedoor.

Twohourslater,everyoneknewthatthegreatC-springbaroucheinwhichMrs. van der Luyden took the air at all seasons had been seen at oldMrs.Mingott'sdoor,wherealargesquareenvelopewashandedin;andthateveningat the Opera Mr. Sillerton Jackson was able to state that the envelopecontainedacardinvitingtheCountessOlenskatothedinnerwhichthevanderLuydens were giving the following week for their cousin, the Duke of St.Austrey.

Some of the younger men in the club box exchanged a smile at thisannouncement,andglancedsidewaysatLawrenceLefferts,whosatcarelesslyin the front of the box, pulling his long fairmoustache, andwho remarkedwithauthority,asthesopranopaused:"NoonebutPattioughttoattempttheSonnambula."

VIII.

ItwasgenerallyagreedinNewYorkthat theCountessOlenskahad"lostherlooks."

Shehadappearedtherefirst,inNewlandArcher'sboyhood,asabrilliantlypretty little girl of nine or ten, of whom people said that she "ought to bepainted." Her parents had been continental wanderers, and after a roamingbabyhood she had lost them both, and been taken in charge by her aunt,MedoraManson,alsoawanderer,whowasherselfreturningtoNewYorkto"settledown."

Poor Medora, repeatedly widowed, was always coming home to settledown (each time in a less expensive house), and bringing with her a newhusband or an adopted child; but after a few months she invariably partedfromherhusbandorquarrelledwithherward,and,havinggotridofherhouseat a loss, set out again on her wanderings. As her mother had been aRushworth,andherlastunhappymarriagehadlinkedhertooneofthecrazyChiverses,NewYork looked indulgentlyonher eccentricities;butwhen shereturned with her little orphaned niece, whose parents had been popular inspiteoftheirregrettabletastefortravel,peoplethoughtitapitythattheprettychildshouldbeinsuchhands.

Every one was disposed to be kind to little Ellen Mingott, though herdusky red cheeks and tight curls gave her an air of gaiety that seemedunsuitableinachildwhoshouldstillhavebeeninblackforherparents.ItwasoneofthemisguidedMedora'smanypeculiaritiestoflouttheunalterablerulesthatregulatedAmericanmourning,andwhenshesteppedfromthesteamerherfamilywerescandalisedtoseethatthecrapeveilsheworeforherownbrotherwasseveninchesshorterthanthoseofhersisters-in-law,whilelittleEllenwasincrimsonmerinoandamberbeads,likeagipsyfoundling.

ButNewYorkhadso long resigned itself toMedora thatonlya fewoldladiesshooktheirheadsoverEllen'sgaudyclothes,whileherotherrelationsfellunderthecharmofherhighcolourandhighspirits.Shewasafearlessandfamiliar little thing, who asked disconcerting questions, made precocious

comments, and possessed outlandish arts, such as dancing a Spanish shawldanceandsingingNeapolitanlove-songstoaguitar.Underthedirectionofheraunt(whoserealnamewasMrs.ThorleyChivers,butwho,havingreceivedaPapaltitle,hadresumedherfirsthusband'spatronymic,andcalledherselftheMarchionessManson,becauseinItalyshecouldturnitintoManzoni)thelittlegirlreceivedanexpensivebutincoherenteducation,whichincluded"drawingfrom themodel," a thingneverdreamedofbefore, andplaying thepiano inquintetswithprofessionalmusicians.

Ofcoursenogoodcouldcomeof this;andwhen,afewyears later,poorChiversfinallydiedinamadhouse,hiswidow(drapedinstrangeweeds)againpulledupstakesanddepartedwithEllen,whohadgrownintoatallbonygirlwithconspicuouseyes.Forsometimenomorewasheardofthem;thennewscameofEllen'smarriagetoanimmenselyrichPolishnoblemanoflegendaryfame,whomshehadmetataballattheTuileries,andwhowassaidtohaveprincely establishments in Paris, Nice and Florence, a yacht at Cowes, andmanysquaremilesofshootinginTransylvania.Shedisappearedinakindofsulphurousapotheosis,andwhenafewyearslaterMedoraagaincamebacktoNewYork,subdued,impoverished,mourningathirdhusband,andinquestofastillsmallerhouse,peoplewonderedthatherrichniecehadnotbeenabletodo something for her. Then came the news that Ellen's own marriage hadended in disaster, and that shewas herself returning home to seek rest andoblivionamongherkinsfolk.

These things passed throughNewlandArcher'smind aweek later as hewatchedtheCountessOlenskaenterthevanderLuydendrawing-roomontheevening of themomentous dinner. The occasionwas a solemn one, and hewonderedalittlenervouslyhowshewouldcarryitoff.Shecameratherlate,one hand still ungloved, and fastening a bracelet about her wrist; yet sheenteredwithoutanyappearanceofhasteorembarrassmentthedrawing-roominwhichNewYork'smostchosencompanywassomewhatawfullyassembled.

In the middle of the room she paused, looking about her with a gravemouth and smiling eyes; and in that instant Newland Archer rejected thegeneralverdictonherlooks.Itwastruethatherearlyradiancewasgone.Theredcheekshadpaled;shewasthin,worn,alittleolder-lookingthanherage,whichmusthavebeennearly thirty.But therewas abouther themysteriousauthorityofbeauty,asurenessinthecarriageofthehead,themovementoftheeyes,which,withoutbeingintheleasttheatrical,struckhisashighlytrainedand fullof a consciouspower.At the same timeshewas simpler inmannerthanmostoftheladiespresent,andmanypeople(asheheardafterwardfromJaney) were disappointed that her appearance was not more "stylish"—forstylishnesswaswhatNewYorkmostvalued.Itwas,perhaps,Archerreflected,becauseherearlyvivacityhaddisappeared;becauseshewassoquiet—quiet

in her movements, her voice, and the tones of her low-pitched voice. NewYorkhadexpectedsomethingagooddealmorereasonantinayoungwomanwithsuchahistory.

Thedinnerwasasomewhatformidablebusiness.DiningwiththevanderLuydenswasatbestno lightmatter,anddining therewithaDukewhowastheircousinwasalmostareligioussolemnity. ItpleasedArcher to think thatonlyanoldNewYorkercouldperceivetheshadeofdifference(toNewYork)between being merely a Duke and being the van der Luydens' Duke. NewYorktookstraynoblemencalmly,andeven(exceptintheStruthersset)withacertaindistrustfulhauteur;butwhen theypresentedsuchcredentialsas thesetheywerereceivedwithanold-fashionedcordialitythattheywouldhavebeengreatlymistakeninascribingsolelytotheirstandinginDebrett.ItwasforjustsuchdistinctionsthattheyoungmancherishedhisoldNewYorkevenwhilehesmiledatit.

ThevanderLuydenshaddone theirbest toemphasise the importanceoftheoccasion.TheduLacSevresandtheTrevennaGeorgeIIplatewereout;sowas thevanderLuyden"Lowestoft"(East IndiaCompany)andtheDagonetCrownDerby.Mrs.vanderLuydenlookedmorethaneverlikeaCabanel,andMrs.Archer,inhergrandmother'sseed-pearlsandemeralds,remindedhersonofan Isabeyminiature.All the ladieshadon theirhandsomest jewels,but itwas characteristic of the house and the occasion that these were mostly inrather heavy old-fashioned settings; and old Miss Lanning, who had beenpersuadedtocome,actuallyworehermother'scameosandaSpanishblondeshawl.

TheCountessOlenskawas the only youngwoman at the dinner; yet, asArcher scanned the smooth plump elderly faces between their diamondnecklaces and towering ostrich feathers, they struck him as curiouslyimmaturecomparedwithhers.Itfrightenedhimtothinkwhatmusthavegonetothemakingofhereyes.

TheDukeofSt.Austrey,whosatathishostess's right,wasnaturally thechieffigureoftheevening.ButiftheCountessOlenskawaslessconspicuousthanhadbeenhoped, theDukewasalmost invisible.Beingawell-bredmanhehadnot(likeanotherrecentducalvisitor)cometothedinnerinashooting-jacket;buthiseveningclothesweresoshabbyandbaggy,andheworethemwith such an air of their being homespun, that (with his stooping way ofsitting, and thevast beard spreadingover his shirt-front) hehardlygave theappearance of being in dinner attire. He was short, round-shouldered,sunburnt,with a thicknose, small eyes and a sociable smile; but he seldomspoke, andwhen he did it was in such low tones that, despite the frequentsilences of expectation about the table, his remarks were lost to all but hisneighbours.

WhenthemenjoinedtheladiesafterdinnertheDukewentstraightuptothe Countess Olenska, and they sat down in a corner and plunged intoanimatedtalk.NeitherseemedawarethattheDukeshouldfirsthavepaidhisrespects toMrs.LovellMingott andMrs.HeadlyChivers, and theCountesshave conversed with that amiable hypochondriac, Mr. Urban Dagonet ofWashington Square,who, in order to have the pleasure ofmeeting her, hadbroken through his fixed rule of not dining out between January andApril.The two chatted together for nearly twentyminutes; then theCountess roseand, walking alone across the wide drawing-room, sat down at NewlandArcher'sside.

ItwasnotthecustominNewYorkdrawing-roomsforaladytogetupandwalk away from one gentleman in order to seek the company of another.Etiquetterequiredthatsheshouldwait,immovableasanidol,whilethemenwhowished to conversewith her succeeded each other at her side.But theCountesswasapparentlyunawareofhavingbrokenanyrule;shesatatperfecteaseinacornerofthesofabesideArcher,andlookedathimwiththekindesteyes.

"IwantyoutotalktomeaboutMay,"shesaid.

Insteadofansweringherheasked:"YouknewtheDukebefore?"

"Oh, yes—we used to see him every winter at Nice. He's very fond ofgambling—he used to come to the house a great deal." She said it in thesimplestmanner,as if shehadsaid:"He's fondofwild-flowers";andafteramomentsheaddedcandidly:"Ithinkhe'sthedullestmanIevermet."

This pleased her companion somuch that he forgot the slight shock herprevious remark had caused him. Itwas undeniably exciting tomeet a ladywhofoundthevanderLuydens'Dukedull,anddaredtouttertheopinion.Helongedtoquestionher,tohearmoreaboutthelifeofwhichhercarelesswordshadgivenhimsoilluminatingaglimpse;buthefearedtotouchondistressingmemories,andbeforehecouldthinkofanythingtosayshehadstrayedbacktoheroriginalsubject.

"Mayisadarling;I'veseennoyounggirlinNewYorksohandsomeandsointelligent.Areyouverymuchinlovewithher?"

NewlandArcherreddenedandlaughed."Asmuchasamancanbe."

Shecontinuedtoconsiderhimthoughtfully,asifnottomissanyshadeofmeaninginwhathesaid,"Doyouthink,then,thereisalimit?"

"Tobeinginlove?Ifthereis,Ihaven'tfoundit!"

Sheglowedwithsympathy."Ah—it'sreallyandtrulyaromance?"

"Themostromanticofromances!"

"Howdelightful!Andyoufounditalloutforyourselves—itwasnotintheleastarrangedforyou?"

Archerlookedatherincredulously."Haveyouforgotten,"heaskedwithasmile, "that in our countrywe don't allow ourmarriages to be arranged forus?"

Aduskyblushrosetohercheek,andheinstantlyregrettedhiswords.

"Yes," she answered, "I'd forgotten.Youmust forgiveme if I sometimesmake thesemistakes. I don't always remember that everything here is goodthat was—that was bad where I've come from." She looked down at herViennesefanofeaglefeathers,andhesawthatherlipstrembled.

"I'msosorry,"hesaidimpulsively;"butyouAREamongfriendshere,youknow."

"Yes—Iknow.WhereverIgoIhavethatfeeling.That'swhyIcamehome.Iwant to forgeteverythingelse, tobecomeacompleteAmericanagain, liketheMingotts andWellands, and you andyour delightfulmother, and all theothergoodpeopleheretonight.Ah,here'sMayarriving,andyouwillwanttohurryawaytoher,"sheadded,butwithoutmoving;andhereyesturnedbackfromthedoortorestontheyoungman'sface.

Thedrawing-roomswerebeginningtofillupwithafter-dinnerguests,andfollowingMadameOlenska'sglanceArchersawMayWellandenteringwithhermother.Inherdressofwhiteandsilver,withawreathofsilverblossomsinherhair,thetallgirllookedlikeaDianajustalightfromthechase.

"Oh," said Archer, "I have so many rivals; you see she's alreadysurrounded.There'stheDukebeingintroduced."

"Thenstaywithmea little longer,"MadameOlenskasaid ina low tone,just touching his kneewith her plumed fan. Itwas the lightest touch, but itthrilledhimlikeacaress.

"Yes,letmestay,"heansweredinthesametone,hardlyknowingwhathesaid;but just thenMr.vanderLuydencameup, followedbyoldMr.UrbanDagonet.TheCountessgreetedthemwithhergravesmile,andArcher,feelinghishost'sadmonitoryglanceonhim,roseandsurrenderedhisseat.

MadameOlenskaheldoutherhandasiftobidhimgoodbye.

"Tomorrow,then,afterfive—Ishallexpectyou,"shesaid;andthenturnedbacktomakeroomforMr.Dagonet.

"Tomorrow—"Archerheardhimselfrepeating, thoughtherehadbeennoengagement,andduringtheirtalkshehadgivenhimnohintthatshewishedtoseehimagain.

AshemovedawayhesawLawrenceLefferts,tallandresplendent,leadinghiswifeuptobeintroduced;andheardGertrudeLeffertssay,asshebeamedontheCountesswithherlargeunperceivingsmile:"ButIthinkweusedtogoto dancing-school together when we were children—." Behind her, waitingtheirturntonamethemselvestotheCountess,ArchernoticedanumberoftherecalcitrantcoupleswhohaddeclinedtomeetheratMrs.LovellMingott's.AsMrs.Archer remarked:when thevanderLuydens chose, theyknewhow togivealesson.Thewonderwasthattheychosesoseldom.

The young man felt a touch on his arm and sawMrs. van der Luydenlookingdownonhimfromthepureeminenceofblackvelvetandthefamilydiamonds. "It was good of you, dear Newland, to devote yourself sounselfishlytoMadameOlenska.ItoldyourcousinHenryhemustreallycometotherescue."

He was aware of smiling at her vaguely, and she added, as ifcondescending tohisnatural shyness:"I'veneverseenMay looking lovelier.TheDukethinksherthehandsomestgirlintheroom."

IX.

The Countess Olenska had said "after five"; and at half after the hourNewlandArcherrangthebellofthepeelingstuccohousewithagiantwisteriathrottling its feeble cast-iron balcony, which she had hired, far downWestTwenty-thirdStreet,fromthevagabondMedora.

Itwas certainly a strange quarter to have settled in. Small dress-makers,bird-stuffersand"peoplewhowrote"werehernearestneighbours;andfurtherdownthedishevelledstreetArcherrecognisedadilapidatedwoodenhouse,attheendofapavedpath,inwhichawriterandjournalistcalledWinsett,whomheusedtocomeacrossnowandthen,hadmentionedthathelived.Winsettdidnotinvitepeopletohishouse;buthehadoncepointeditouttoArcherinthecourse of a nocturnal stroll, and the latter had asked himself, with a littleshiver,ifthehumanitiesweresomeanlyhousedinothercapitals.

MadameOlenska'sowndwellingwasredeemedfromthesameappearanceonlybyalittlemorepaintaboutthewindow-frames;andasArchermustereditsmodestfronthesaidtohimselfthatthePolishCountmusthaverobbedherofherfortuneaswellasofherillusions.

Theyoungmanhadspentanunsatisfactoryday.HehadlunchedwiththeWellands,hopingafterwardtocarryoffMayforawalkinthePark.Hewantedto have her to himself, to tell her how enchanting she had looked the night

before,andhowproudhewasofher,andtopresshertohastentheirmarriage.ButMrs.Wellandhadfirmlyremindedhimthattheroundoffamilyvisitswasnothalfover,and,whenhehintedatadvancingthedateofthewedding,hadraisedreproachfuleye-browsandsighedout:"Twelvedozenofeverything—hand-embroidered—"

Packedinthefamilylandautheyrolledfromonetribaldoorsteptoanother,andArcher,when the afternoon's roundwasover, parted fromhis betrothedwith the feeling that he had been shown off like a wild animal cunninglytrapped. He supposed that his readings in anthropology caused him to takesuchacoarseviewofwhatwasafterallasimpleandnaturaldemonstrationoffamilyfeeling;butwhenherememberedthattheWellandsdidnotexpectthewedding to take place till the following autumn, and pictured what his lifewouldbetillthen,adampnessfelluponhisspirit.

"Tomorrow,"Mrs.Welland called after him, "we'll do theChiverses andtheDallases";andheperceivedthatshewasgoingthroughtheirtwofamiliesalphabetically,andthattheywereonlyinthefirstquarterofthealphabet.

He had meant to tell May of the Countess Olenska's request—hercommand, rather—thathe should call onher that afternoon;but in thebriefmoments when they were alone he had had more pressing things to say.Besides, itstruckhimasa littleabsurdtoalludetothematter.HeknewthatMaymost particularlywanted him to be kind to her cousin;was it not thatwishwhichhadhastenedtheannouncementoftheirengagement?Itgavehimanoddsensationtoreflect that,butfortheCountess'sarrival,hemighthavebeen,ifnotstillafreeman,atleastamanlessirrevocablypledged.ButMayhadwilleditso,andhefelthimselfsomehowrelievedoffurtherresponsibility—andthereforeatliberty,ifhechose,tocallonhercousinwithouttellingher.

AshestoodonMadameOlenska's thresholdcuriositywashisuppermostfeeling. He was puzzled by the tone in which she had summoned him; heconcludedthatshewaslesssimplethansheseemed.

Thedoorwasopenedbyaswarthyforeign-lookingmaid,withaprominentbosomunderagayneckerchief,whomhevaguelyfanciedtobeSicilian.Shewelcomedhimwithallherwhiteteeth,andansweringhisenquiriesbyahead-shakeof incomprehension ledhim through thenarrowhall into a low firelitdrawing-room.Theroomwasempty,andshelefthim,foranappreciabletime,towonderwhethershehadgonetofindhermistress,orwhethershehadnotunderstoodwhathewastherefor,andthoughtitmightbetowindtheclock—ofwhichheperceived that theonlyvisible specimenhad stopped.Heknewthat the southern races communicated with each other in the language ofpantomime,andwasmortifiedtofindhershrugsandsmilessounintelligible.At length she returned with a lamp; and Archer, having meanwhile put

togetheraphraseoutofDanteandPetrarch,evokedtheanswer:"Lasignoraefuori;maverra subito";whichhe took tomean: "She'sout—butyou'll soonsee."

What he saw, meanwhile, with the help of the lamp, was the fadedshadowycharmofaroomunlikeanyroomhehadknown.HeknewthattheCountess Olenska had brought some of her possessions with her—bits ofwreckage, she called them—and these, he supposed, were represented bysomesmallslendertablesofdarkwood,adelicatelittleGreekbronzeonthechimney-piece, and a stretch of red damask nailed on the discolouredwallpaperbehindacoupleofItalian-lookingpicturesinoldframes.

Newland Archer prided himself on his knowledge of Italian art. HisboyhoodhadbeensaturatedwithRuskin,andhehadreadallthelatestbooks:John Addington Symonds, Vernon Lee's "Euphorion," the essays of P. G.Hamerton,andawonderfulnewvolumecalled"TheRenaissance"byWalterPater.He talked easily ofBotticelli, and spoke ofFraAngelicowith a faintcondescension.Butthesepicturesbewilderedhim,fortheywerelikenothingthathewasaccustomedtolookat(andthereforeabletosee)whenhetravelledin Italy; and perhaps, also, his powers of observationwere impaired by theoddnessoffindinghimself in thisstrangeemptyhouse,whereapparentlynooneexpectedhim.HewassorrythathehadnottoldMayWellandofCountessOlenska'srequest,andalittledisturbedbythethoughtthathisbetrothedmightcomeintoseehercousin.Whatwouldshethinkifshefoundhimsittingtherewith the air of intimacy implied by waiting alone in the dusk at a lady'sfireside?

But since he had come he meant to wait; and he sank into a chair andstretchedhisfeettothelogs.

Itwasoddtohavesummonedhiminthatway,andthenforgottenhim;butArcherfeltmorecuriousthanmortified.Theatmosphereoftheroomwassodifferentfromanyhehadeverbreathedthatself-consciousnessvanishedinthesense of adventure. He had been before in drawing-rooms hung with reddamask,withpictures"oftheItalianschool";whatstruckhimwasthewayinwhichMedoraManson'sshabbyhiredhouse,withitsblightedbackgroundofpampasgrassandRogersstatuettes,had,byaturnofthehand,andtheskilfuluseofafewproperties,beentransformedintosomethingintimate,"foreign,"subtlysuggestiveofold romanticscenesandsentiments.He tried toanalysethetrick,tofindacluetoitinthewaythechairsandtablesweregrouped,inthe fact thatonly twoJacqueminot roses (ofwhichnobodyeverbought lessthan a dozen) had been placed in the slender vase at his elbow, and in thevague pervading perfume that was not what one put on handkerchiefs, butratherlikethescentofsomefar-offbazaar,asmellmadeupofTurkishcoffeeandambergrisanddriedroses.

His mind wandered away to the question of what May's drawing-roomwould look like. He knew that Mr. Welland, who was behaving "veryhandsomely,"alreadyhadhiseyeonanewlybuilthouseinEastThirty-ninthStreet.Theneighbourhoodwas thoughtremote,andthehousewasbuilt inaghastly greenish-yellow stone that the younger architectswere beginning toemployasaprotestagainst thebrownstoneofwhichtheuniformhuecoatedNewYorklikeacoldchocolatesauce;buttheplumbingwasperfect.Archerwould have liked to travel, to put off the housing question; but, though theWellands approved of an extended European honeymoon (perhaps even awinter inEgypt), theywere firmas to theneedof ahouse for the returningcouple.Theyoungmanfeltthathisfatewassealed:fortherestofhislifehewould go up every evening between the cast-iron railings of that greenish-yellow doorstep, and pass through a Pompeian vestibule into a hall with awainscotingofvarnishedyellowwood.Butbeyondthathisimaginationcouldnottravel.Heknewthedrawing-roomabovehadabaywindow,buthecouldnotfancyhowMaywoulddealwithit.ShesubmittedcheerfullytothepurplesatinandyellowtuftingsoftheWellanddrawing-room,toitsshamBuhltablesandgilt vitrines full ofmodernSaxe.He sawno reason to suppose that shewouldwantanythingdifferentinherownhouse;andhisonlycomfortwastoreflect that she would probably let him arrange his library as he pleased—which would be, of course, with "sincere" Eastlake furniture, and the plainnewbookcaseswithoutglassdoors.

The round-bosomedmaidcame in,drew thecurtains,pushedbacka log,andsaidconsolingly:"Verra—verra."WhenshehadgoneArcherstoodupandbegan to wander about. Should he wait any longer? His position wasbecoming rather foolish. Perhaps he hadmisunderstoodMadameOlenska—perhapsshehadnotinvitedhimafterall.

Down the cobblestones of the quiet street came the ring of a stepper'shoofs;theystoppedbeforethehouse,andhecaughttheopeningofacarriagedoor. Parting the curtains he looked out into the early dusk. A street-lampfaced him, and in its light he saw Julius Beaufort's compact Englishbrougham, drawn by a big roan, and the banker descending from it, andhelpingoutMadameOlenska.

Beaufort stood, hat in hand, saying something which his companionseemed tonegative; then they shookhands, andhe jumped intohis carriagewhileshemountedthesteps.

WhensheenteredtheroomsheshowednosurpriseatseeingArcherthere;surpriseseemedtheemotionthatshewasleastaddictedto.

"Howdoyoulikemyfunnyhouse?"sheasked."Tomeit'slikeheaven."

Asshespokesheuntiedher littlevelvetbonnetand tossing itawaywith

herlongcloakstoodlookingathimwithmeditativeeyes.

"You've arranged it delightfully," he rejoined, alive to the flatness of thewords, but imprisoned in the conventional by his consuming desire to besimpleandstriking.

"Oh,it'sapoorlittleplace.Myrelationsdespiseit.Butatanyrateit'slessgloomythanthevanderLuydens'."

Thewordsgavehimanelectricshock,forfewweretherebelliousspiritswhowouldhavedaredtocallthestatelyhomeofthevanderLuydensgloomy.Thoseprivilegedtoenteritshiveredthere,andspokeofitas"handsome."Butsuddenlyhewasgladthatshehadgivenvoicetothegeneralshiver.

"It'sdelicious—whatyou'vedonehere,"herepeated.

"I like the little house," she admitted; "but I suppose what I like is theblessednessofitsbeinghere,inmyowncountryandmyowntown;andthen,ofbeingaloneinit."Shespokesolowthathehardlyheardthelastphrase;butinhisawkwardnesshetookitup.

"Youlikesomuchtobealone?"

"Yes; as longasmy friendskeepme from feeling lonely."She satdownnearthefire,said:"Nastasiawillbringtheteapresently,"andsignedtohimtoreturntohisarmchair,adding:"Iseeyou'vealreadychosenyourcorner."

Leaningback,shefoldedherarmsbehindherhead,andlookedatthefireunderdroopinglids.

"ThisisthehourIlikebest—don'tyou?"

Aproper sense of his dignity caused him to answer: "Iwas afraid you'dforgottenthehour.Beaufortmusthavebeenveryengrossing."

Shelookedamused."Why—haveyouwaitedlong?Mr.Beauforttookmetoseeanumberofhouses—sinceitseemsI'mnottobeallowedtostayinthisone."SheappearedtodismissbothBeaufortandhimselffromhermind,andwent on: "I've never been in a citywhere there seems to be such a feelingagainst living in des quartiers excentriques.What does it matter where onelives?I'mtoldthisstreetisrespectable."

"It'snotfashionable."

"Fashionable!Doyouallthinksomuchofthat?Whynotmakeone'sownfashions?ButIsupposeI'velivedtooindependently;atanyrate,Iwanttodowhatyoualldo—Iwanttofeelcaredforandsafe."

Hewastouched,ashehadbeentheeveningbeforewhenshespokeofherneedofguidance.

"That's what your friendswant you to feel. NewYork's an awfully safeplace,"headdedwithaflashofsarcasm.

"Yes,isn'tit?Onefeelsthat,"shecried,missingthemockery."Beinghereis like—like—being takenonaholidaywhenonehasbeenagood littlegirlanddoneallone'slessons."

Theanalogywaswellmeant,butdidnotaltogetherpleasehim.HedidnotmindbeingflippantaboutNewYork,butdislikedtohearanyoneelsetakethesametone.Hewonderedifshedidnotbegintoseewhatapowerfulengineitwas,andhownearlyithadcrushedher.TheLovellMingotts'dinner,patchedupinextremisoutofallsortsofsocialoddsandends,oughttohavetaughtherthe narrowness of her escape; but either she had been all along unaware ofhavingskirteddisaster,orelseshehadlostsightofitinthetriumphofthevanderLuydenevening.Archerinclinedtotheformertheory;hefanciedthatherNew York was still completely undifferentiated, and the conjecture nettledhim.

"Last night," he said, "New York laid itself out for you. The van derLuydensdonothingbyhalves."

"No:howkindtheyare!Itwassuchaniceparty.Everyoneseemstohavesuchanesteemforthem."

Thetermswerehardlyadequate;shemighthavespokenin thatwayofatea-partyatthedearoldMissLannings'.

"ThevanderLuydens,"saidArcher,feelinghimselfpompousashespoke,"arethemostpowerfulinfluenceinNewYorksociety.Unfortunately—owingtoherhealth—theyreceiveveryseldom."

She unclasped her hands from behind her head, and looked at himmeditatively.

"Isn'tthatperhapsthereason?"

"Thereason—?"

"Fortheirgreatinfluence;thattheymakethemselvessorare."

Hecolouredalittle,staredather—andsuddenlyfeltthepenetrationoftheremark.AtastrokeshehadprickedthevanderLuydensandtheycollapsed.Helaughed,andsacrificedthem.

Nastasiabroughtthetea,withhandlelessJapanesecupsandlittlecovereddishes,placingthetrayonalowtable.

"Butyou'llexplainthesethingstome—you'lltellmeallIoughttoknow,"MadameOlenskacontinued,leaningforwardtohandhimhiscup.

"It's youwho are tellingme; openingmyeyes to things I'd looked at solongthatI'dceasedtoseethem."

Shedetachedasmallgoldcigarette-casefromoneofherbracelets,helditout tohim,andtookacigaretteherself.Onthechimneywerelongspillsforlightingthem.

"Ah,thenwecanbothhelpeachother.ButIwanthelpsomuchmore.Youmusttellmejustwhattodo."

Itwason the tipofhis tongue to reply:"Don'tbeseendrivingabout thestreets with Beaufort—" but he was being too deeply drawn into theatmosphereoftheroom,whichwasheratmosphere,andtogiveadviceofthatsortwouldhavebeen like tellingsomeonewhowasbargaining forattar-of-rosesinSamarkandthatoneshouldalwaysbeprovidedwitharcticsforaNewYorkwinter.NewYorkseemedmuchfartheroffthanSamarkand,andiftheywereindeedtohelpeachothershewasrenderingwhatmightprovethefirstoftheir mutual services by making him look at his native city objectively.Viewed thus, as through the wrong end of a telescope, it lookeddisconcertinglysmallanddistant;butthenfromSamarkanditwould.

Aflamedartedfromthelogsandshebentoverthefire,stretchingherthinhands so close to it that a faint halo shone about the oval nails. The lighttouchedtorussettheringsofdarkhairescapingfromherbraids,andmadeherpalefacepaler.

"There are plenty of people to tell you what to do," Archer rejoined,obscurelyenviousofthem.

"Oh—allmy aunts?Andmydear oldGranny?"She considered the ideaimpartially."They'reallalittlevexedwithmeforsettingupformyself—poorGrannyespecially.Shewantedtokeepmewithher;butIhadtobefree—"HewasimpressedbythislightwayofspeakingoftheformidableCatherine,andmovedbythethoughtofwhatmusthavegivenMadameOlenskathisthirstforeventheloneliestkindoffreedom.ButtheideaofBeaufortgnawedhim.

"IthinkIunderstandhowyoufeel,"hesaid."Still,yourfamilycanadviseyou;explaindifferences;showyoutheway."

She lifted her thin black eyebrows. "Is New York such a labyrinth? Ithoughtitsostraightupanddown—likeFifthAvenue.Andwithallthecrossstreets numbered!" She seemed to guess his faint disapproval of this, andadded,withtheraresmilethatenchantedherwholeface:"IfyouknewhowIlikeitforjustTHAT—thestraight-up-and-downness,andthebighonestlabelsoneverything!"

Hesawhischance."Everythingmaybelabelled—buteverybodyisnot."

"Perhaps. I may simplify too much—but you'll warn me if I do." Sheturnedfromthefiretolookathim."ThereareonlytwopeopleherewhomakemefeelasiftheyunderstoodwhatImeanandcouldexplainthingstome:youandMr.Beaufort."

Archer winced at the joining of the names, and then, with a quickreadjustment,understood, sympathisedandpitied.Soclose to thepowersofevil shemust have lived that she still breathedmore freely in their air.Butsinceshefeltthatheunderstoodheralso,hisbusinesswouldbetomakeherseeBeaufortashereallywas,withallherepresented—andabhorit.

Heansweredgently:"Iunderstand.Butjustatfirstdon'tletgoofyouroldfriends'hands:Imeantheolderwomen,yourGrannyMingott,Mrs.Welland,Mrs.vanderLuyden.Theylikeandadmireyou—theywanttohelpyou."

Sheshookherheadandsighed. "Oh, Iknow—Iknow!Butonconditionthat they don't hear anything unpleasant. AuntWelland put it in those verywordswhenItried....Doesnoonewanttoknowthetruthhere,Mr.Archer?Thereallonelinessislivingamongallthesekindpeoplewhoonlyaskonetopretend!" She lifted her hands to her face, and he saw her thin shouldersshakenbyasob.

"MadameOlenska!—Oh,don't,Ellen,"he cried, startingup andbendingoverher.Hedrewdownoneofherhands,claspingandchafingitlikeachild'swhilehemurmuredreassuringwords;butinamomentshefreedherself,andlookedupathimwithwetlashes.

"Doesnoonecryhere,either?Isupposethere'snoneedto,inheaven,"shesaid,straighteningherloosenedbraidswithalaugh,andbendingoverthetea-kettle. It was burnt into his consciousness that he had called her "Ellen"—called her so twice; and that she had not noticed it. Far down the invertedtelescopehesawthefaintwhitefigureofMayWelland—inNewYork.

SuddenlyNastasiaputherheadintosaysomethinginherrichItalian.

MadameOlenska,againwithahandatherhair,utteredanexclamationofassent—aflashing"Gia—gia"—andtheDukeofSt.Austreyentered,pilotingatremendousblackwiggedandred-plumedladyinoverflowingfurs.

"MydearCountess, I'vebroughtanold friendofmine to seeyou—Mrs.Struthers. She wasn't asked to the party last night, and she wants to knowyou."

TheDuke beamed on the group, andMadameOlenska advancedwith amurmurofwelcometowardthequeercouple.Sheseemedtohavenoideahowoddlymatchedtheywere,norwhata liberty theDukehad taken inbringinghiscompanion—andtodohimjustice,asArcherperceived,theDukeseemed

asunawareofithimself.

"OfcourseIwanttoknowyou,mydear,"criedMrs.Struthersinaroundrolling voice thatmatched her bold feathers and her brazenwig. "Iwant toknow everybodywho's young and interesting and charming. And the Duketells me you like music—didn't you, Duke? You're a pianist yourself, Ibelieve?Well, do you want to hear Sarasate play tomorrow evening at myhouse?YouknowI'vesomethinggoingoneverySundayevening—it'sthedaywhenNewYorkdoesn'tknowwhattodowithitself,andsoIsaytoit:'Comeandbeamused.'And theDuke thoughtyou'dbe temptedbySarasate.You'llfindanumberofyourfriends."

Madame Olenska's face grew brilliant with pleasure. "How kind! HowgoodoftheDuketothinkofme!"Shepushedachairuptothetea-tableandMrs. Struthers sank into it delectably. "Of course I shall be too happy tocome."

"That's all right, my dear. And bring your young gentleman with you."Mrs.Struthers extendedahail-fellowhand toArcher. "I can'tput aname toyou—but I'm sure I've met you—I've met everybody, here, or in Paris orLondon.Aren'tyouindiplomacy?Allthediplomatistscometome.Youlikemusictoo?Duke,youmustbesuretobringhim."

TheDukesaid"Rather"fromthedepthsofhisbeard,andArcherwithdrewwith a stiffly circular bow that made him feel as full of spine as a self-consciousschool-boyamongcarelessandunnoticingelders.

Hewas not sorry for the denouement of his visit: he onlywished it hadcomesooner,andsparedhimacertainwasteofemotion.Ashewentoutintothe wintry night, New York again became vast and imminent, and MayWellandtheloveliestwomaninit.Heturnedintohisflorist'stosendherthedaily box of lilies-of-the-valley which, to his confusion, he found he hadforgottenthatmorning.

As hewrote aword on his card andwaited for an envelope he glancedabouttheemboweredshop,andhiseyelitonaclusterofyellowroses.Hehadneverseenanyassun-goldenbefore,andhisfirstimpulsewastosendthemtoMayinsteadofthelilies.Buttheydidnotlooklikeher—therewassomethingtoorich,toostrong,intheirfierybeauty.Inasuddenrevulsionofmood,andalmostwithoutknowingwhathedid,hesignedtothefloristtolaytherosesinanother longbox, and slippedhis card into a secondenvelope,onwhichhewrotethenameoftheCountessOlenska;then,justashewasturningaway,hedrewthecardoutagain,andlefttheemptyenvelopeonthebox.

"They'llgoatonce?"heenquired,pointingtotheroses.

Thefloristassuredhimthattheywould.

X.

The next day he persuadedMay to escape for a walk in the Park afterluncheon.Aswas the custom in old-fashioned EpiscopalianNewYork, sheusually accompanied her parents to church on Sunday afternoons; butMrs.Wellandcondonedhertruancy,havingthatverymorningwonherovertothenecessity of a long engagement, with time to prepare a hand-embroideredtrousseaucontainingthepropernumberofdozens.

The day was delectable. The bare vaulting of trees along theMall wasceiled with lapis lazuli, and arched above snow that shone like splinteredcrystals.ItwastheweathertocalloutMay'sradiance,andsheburnedlikeayoungmapleinthefrost.Archerwasproudoftheglancesturnedonher,andthesimplejoyofpossessorshipclearedawayhisunderlyingperplexities.

"It's so delicious—waking every morning to smell lilies-of-the-valley inone'sroom!"shesaid.

"Yesterdaytheycamelate.Ihadn'ttimeinthemorning—"

"But your remembering each day to send themmakesme love them somuchmorethanifyou'dgivenastandingorder,andtheycameeverymorningontheminute,likeone'smusic-teacher—asIknowGertrudeLefferts'sdid,forinstance,whensheandLawrencewereengaged."

"Ah—theywould!" laughedArcher, amused at her keenness. He lookedsidewaysatherfruit-likecheekandfeltrichandsecureenoughtoadd:"WhenIsentyourliliesyesterdayafternoonIsawsomerathergorgeousyellowrosesandpackedthemofftoMadameOlenska.Wasthatright?"

"Howdearofyou!Anythingof thatkinddelightsher. It'soddshedidn'tmentionit:shelunchedwithustoday,andspokeofMr.Beaufort'shavingsentherwonderfulorchids,andcousinHenryvanderLuydenawholehamperofcarnationsfromSkuytercliff.Sheseemssosurprisedtoreceiveflowers.Don'tpeoplesendtheminEurope?Shethinksitsuchaprettycustom."

"Oh,well,nowonderminewereovershadowedbyBeaufort's,"saidArcherirritably.Thenheremembered thathehadnotputacardwith theroses,andwas vexed at having spoken of them. He wanted to say: "I called on yourcousin yesterday," but hesitated. IfMadameOlenska had not spoken of hisvisititmightseemawkwardthatheshould.Yetnottodosogavetheaffairanairofmysterythathedisliked.Toshakeoff thequestionhebegantotalkoftheir own plans, their future, and Mrs. Welland's insistence on a longengagement.

"Ifyoucallitlong!IsabelChiversandReggiewereengagedfortwoyears:GraceandThorleyfornearlyayearandahalf.Whyaren'tweverywelloffasweare?"

It was the traditional maidenly interrogation, and he felt ashamed ofhimself for finding it singularly childish.No doubt she simply echoedwhatwas said for her; but she was nearing her twenty-second birthday, and hewonderedatwhatage"nice"womenbegantospeakforthemselves.

"Never, ifwewon't let them,Isuppose,"hemused,andrecalledhismadoutbursttoMr.SillertonJackson:"Womenoughttobeasfreeasweare—"

Itwouldpresentlybehistasktotakethebandagefromthisyoungwoman'seyes,andbidher look forthon theworld.Buthowmanygenerationsof thewomenwhohadgone tohermakinghaddescendedbandaged to the familyvault?Heshiveredalittle,rememberingsomeofthenewideasinhisscientificbooks, and the much-cited instance of the Kentucky cave-fish, which hadceased todevelopeyesbecause theyhadnouse for them.What if,whenhehad biddenMayWelland to open hers, they could only look out blankly atblankness?

"Wemightbemuchbetteroff.Wemightbealtogethertogether—wemighttravel."

Her face lit up. "That would be lovely," she owned: she would love totravel. But her mother would not understand their wanting to do things sodifferently.

"Asifthemere'differently'didn'taccountforit!"thewooerinsisted.

"Newland!You'resooriginal!"sheexulted.

Hisheartsank,forhesawthathewassayingallthethingsthatyoungmenin the same situation were expected to say, and that she was making theanswers that instinct and tradition taught her tomake—even to the point ofcallinghimoriginal.

"Original!We're all as like eachother as thosedolls cutoutof the samefoldedpaper.We'relikepatternsstencilledonawall.Can'tyouandIstrikeoutforourselves,May?"

Hehadstoppedandfacedherintheexcitementoftheirdiscussion,andhereyesrestedonhimwithabrightuncloudedadmiration.

"Mercy—shallweelope?"shelaughed.

"Ifyouwould—"

"YouDOloveme,Newland!I'msohappy."

"Butthen—whynotbehappier?"

"Wecan'tbehavelikepeopleinnovels,though,canwe?"

"Whynot—whynot—whynot?"

She lookeda littleboredbyhis insistence.Sheknewverywell that theycouldn't,but itwastroublesometohavetoproduceareason."I'mnotcleverenough toarguewithyou.But thatkindof thing is rather—vulgar, isn't it?"shesuggested,relievedtohavehitonawordthatwouldassuredlyextinguishthewholesubject.

"Areyousomuchafraid,then,ofbeingvulgar?"

Shewasevidentlystaggeredbythis."OfcourseIshouldhateit—sowouldyou,"sherejoined,atrifleirritably.

He stood silent, beating his stick nervously against his boot-top; andfeelingthatshehadindeedfoundtherightwayofclosingthediscussion,shewentonlight-heartedly:"Oh,didItellyouthatIshowedEllenmyring?Shethinksitthemostbeautifulsettingsheeversaw.There'snothinglikeitintheruedelaPaix,shesaid.Idoloveyou,Newland,forbeingsoartistic!"

*

Thenextafternoon, asArcher,beforedinner, sat smoking sullenly inhisstudy,Janeywanderedinonhim.Hehadfailedtostopathisclubonthewayupfromtheofficewhereheexercisedtheprofessionofthelawintheleisurelymannercommontowell-to-doNewYorkersofhisclass.Hewasoutofspiritsandslightlyoutoftemper,andahauntinghorrorofdoingthesamethingeverydayatthesamehourbesiegedhisbrain.

"Sameness—sameness!" hemuttered, theword running throughhis headlike a persecuting tune as he saw the familiar tall-hatted figures loungingbehind theplate-glass; andbecauseheusuallydropped inat theclubat thathourhehadgonehomeinstead.Heknewnotonlywhattheywerelikelytobetalkingabout,buttheparteachonewouldtakeinthediscussion.TheDukeofcoursewouldbetheirprincipaltheme;thoughtheappearanceinFifthAvenueof a golden-haired lady in a small canary-colouredbroughamwith a pair ofblackcobs(forwhichBeaufortwasgenerallythoughtresponsible)wouldalsodoubtlessbethoroughlygoneinto.Such"women"(astheywerecalled)werefew in New York, those driving their own carriages still fewer, and theappearanceofMissFannyRing inFifthAvenueat the fashionablehourhadprofoundlyagitatedsociety.Onlythedaybefore,hercarriagehadpassedMrs.LovellMingott's,and the latterhad instantlyrungthe littlebellatherelbowandorderedthecoachmantodriveherhome."WhatifithadhappenedtoMrs.vanderLuyden?"peopleaskedeachotherwithashudder.Archercouldhear

Lawrence Lefferts, at that very hour, holding forth on the disintegration ofsociety.

HeraisedhisheadirritablywhenhissisterJaneyentered,andthenquicklybentoverhisbook(Swinburne's"Chastelard"—justout)asifhehadnotseenher.Sheglancedatthewriting-tableheapedwithbooks,openedavolumeofthe "Contes Drolatiques," made a wry face over the archaic French, andsighed:"Whatlearnedthingsyouread!"

"Well—?"heasked,asshehoveredCassandra-likebeforehim.

"Mother'sveryangry."

"Angry?Withwhom?Aboutwhat?"

"MissSophyJacksonhasjustbeenhere.Shebroughtwordthatherbrotherwouldcomeinafterdinner:shecouldn't sayverymuch,becauseheforbadeherto:hewishestogiveall thedetailshimself.He'swithcousinLouisavanderLuydennow."

"For heaven's sake, my dear girl, try a fresh start. It would take anomniscientDeitytoknowwhatyou'retalkingabout."

"It'snotatimetobeprofane,Newland....Motherfeelsbadlyenoughaboutyournotgoingtochurch..."

Withagroanheplungedbackintohisbook.

"NEWLAND! Do listen. Your friend Madame Olenska was at Mrs.Lemuel Struthers's party last night: she went there with the Duke and Mr.Beaufort."

At the last clause of this announcement a senseless anger swelled theyoungman'sbreast.Tosmother ithe laughed."Well,whatof it? Iknewshemeantto."

Janeypaledandhereyesbegantoproject."Youknewshemeantto—andyoudidn'ttrytostopher?Towarnher?"

"Stopher?Warnher?"Helaughedagain."I'mnotengagedtobemarriedtotheCountessOlenska!"Thewordshadafantasticsoundinhisownears.

"You'remarryingintoherfamily."

"Oh,family—family!"hejeered.

"Newland—don'tyoucareaboutFamily?"

"Notabrassfarthing."

"NoraboutwhatcousinLouisavanderLuydenwillthink?"

"Notthehalfofone—ifshethinkssucholdmaid'srubbish."

"Motherisnotanoldmaid,"saidhisvirginsisterwithpinchedlips.

He felt likeshoutingback:"Yes, she is,andsoare thevanderLuydens,andsoweallare,whenitcomestobeingsomuchasbrushedbythewing-tipof Reality." But he saw her long gentle face puckering into tears, and feltashamedoftheuselesspainhewasinflicting.

"HangCountessOlenska!Don'tbeagoose,Janey—I'mnotherkeeper."

"No;butyouDIDasktheWellandstoannounceyourengagementsoonersothatwemightallbackherup;andifithadn'tbeenforthatcousinLouisawouldneverhaveinvitedhertothedinnerfortheDuke."

"Well—what harm was there in inviting her? She was the best-lookingwomanin theroom;shemade thedinnera little lessfunereal than theusualvanderLuydenbanquet."

"You know cousin Henry asked her to please you: he persuaded cousinLouisa. And now they're so upset that they're going back to Skuyterclifftomorrow. I think, Newland, you'd better come down. You don't seem tounderstandhowmotherfeels."

In the drawing-room Newland found his mother. She raised a troubledbrowfromherneedleworktoask:"HasJaneytoldyou?"

"Yes."Hetriedtokeephistoneasmeasuredasherown."ButIcan'ttakeitveryseriously."

"NotthefactofhavingoffendedcousinLouisaandcousinHenry?"

"ThefactthattheycanbeoffendedbysuchatrifleasCountessOlenska'sgoingtothehouseofawomantheyconsidercommon."

"Consider—!"

"Well, who is; but who has goodmusic, and amuses people on Sundayevenings,whenthewholeofNewYorkisdyingofinanition."

"Goodmusic?AllIknowis,therewasawomanwhogotuponatableandsangthethingstheysingattheplacesyougotoinParis.Therewassmokingandchampagne."

"Well—thatkindofthinghappensinotherplaces,andtheworldstillgoeson."

"Idon'tsuppose,dear,you'rereallydefendingtheFrenchSunday?"

"I'veheardyouoftenenough,mother,grumbleattheEnglishSundaywhenwe'vebeeninLondon."

"NewYorkisneitherParisnorLondon."

"Oh,no,it'snot!"hersongroaned.

"Youmean,Isuppose, thatsocietyhere isnotasbrilliant?You'reright, Idaresay;butwebelonghere,andpeopleshould respectourwayswhen theycomeamongus.EllenOlenskaespecially:shecamebacktogetawayfromthekindoflifepeopleleadinbrilliantsocieties."

Newlandmadenoanswer,andafteramomenthismotherventured:"IwasgoingtoputonmybonnetandaskyoutotakemetoseecousinLouisaforamomentbeforedinner."Hefrowned,andshecontinued:"Ithoughtyoumightexplain to her what you've just said: that society abroad is different ... thatpeoplearenotasparticular,andthatMadameOlenskamaynothaverealisedhowwefeelaboutsuchthings.Itwouldbe,youknow,dear,"sheaddedwithaninnocentadroitness,"inMadameOlenska'sinterestifyoudid."

"Dearestmother,Ireallydon'tseehowwe'reconcernedinthematter.TheDuke took Madame Olenska to Mrs. Struthers's—in fact he brought Mrs.Struthers tocallonher.Iwastherewhentheycame.If thevanderLuydenswanttoquarrelwithanybody,therealculpritisundertheirownroof."

"Quarrel? Newland, did you ever know of cousin Henry's quarrelling?Besides,theDuke'shisguest;andastrangertoo.Strangersdon'tdiscriminate:how should they? Countess Olenska is a New Yorker, and should haverespectedthefeelingsofNewYork."

"Well, then, if they must have a victim, you have my leave to throwMadameOlenskatothem,"criedherson,exasperated."Idon'tseemyself—oryoueither—offeringourselvesuptoexpiatehercrimes."

"Oh,ofcourseyouseeonlytheMingottside,"hismotheranswered,inthesensitivetonethatwashernearestapproachtoanger.

Thesadbutlerdrewbackthedrawing-roomportieresandannounced:"Mr.HenryvanderLuyden."

Mrs.Archerdroppedherneedleandpushedherchairbackwithanagitatedhand.

"Anotherlamp,"shecriedtotheretreatingservant,whileJaneybentovertostraightenhermother'scap.

Mr.vanderLuyden'sfigureloomedonthethreshold,andNewlandArcherwentforwardtogreethiscousin.

"Wewerejusttalkingaboutyou,sir,"hesaid.

Mr.vanderLuydenseemedoverwhelmedbytheannouncement.Hedrewoffhisglovetoshakehandswiththeladies,andsmoothedhis tallhatshyly,

while Janey pushed an arm-chair forward, and Archer continued: "And theCountessOlenska."

Mrs.Archerpaled.

"Ah—acharmingwoman. I have just been to see her," saidMr. vanderLuyden,complacencyrestoredtohisbrow.Hesankintothechair,laidhishatand gloves on the floor beside him in the old-fashionedway, andwent on:"Shehasarealgiftforarrangingflowers.IhadsentherafewcarnationsfromSkuytercliff,andIwasastonished.Insteadofmassingtheminbigbunchesasourhead-gardenerdoes,shehadscatteredthemaboutloosely,hereandthere...Ican'tsayhow.TheDukehadtoldme:hesaid: 'Goandseehowcleverlyshe's arranged her drawing-room.' And she has. I should really like to takeLouisatoseeher,iftheneighbourhoodwerenotso—unpleasant."

A dead silence greeted this unusual flow of words from Mr. van derLuyden.Mrs.Archer drewher embroidery out of the basket intowhich shehadnervouslytumbledit,andNewland,leaningagainstthechimney-placeandtwisting a humming-bird-feather screen in his hand, saw Janey's gapingcountenancelitupbythecomingofthesecondlamp.

"The fact is,"Mr. van der Luyden continued, stroking his long grey legwithabloodlesshandweigheddownby thePatroon'sgreat signet-ring,"thefactis,Idroppedintothankherfortheveryprettynoteshewrotemeaboutmyflowers;andalso—butthisisbetweenourselves,ofcourse—togiveherafriendlywarningaboutallowingtheDuketocarryherofftopartieswithhim.Idon'tknowifyou'veheard—"

Mrs.Archerproducedanindulgentsmile."HastheDukebeencarryingherofftoparties?"

"YouknowwhattheseEnglishgrandeesare.They'reallalike.LouisaandIare very fond of our cousin—but it's hopeless to expect people who areaccustomed to the European courts to trouble themselves about our littlerepublican distinctions. The Duke goes where he's amused." Mr. van derLuydenpaused,butnoonespoke."Yes—itseemshe tookherwithhim lastnighttoMrs.LemuelStruthers's.SillertonJacksonhasjustbeentouswiththefoolish story, andLouisawas rather troubled. So I thought the shortestwaywastogostraighttoCountessOlenskaandexplain—bythemeresthint,youknow—howwefeelinNewYorkaboutcertainthings.IfeltImight,withoutindelicacy, because the evening she dined with us she rather suggested ...ratherletmeseethatshewouldbegratefulforguidance.AndsheWAS."

Mr. van der Luyden looked about the roomwithwhatwould have beenself-satisfactiononfeatureslesspurgedofthevulgarpassions.Onhisfaceitbecame a mild benevolence which Mrs. Archer's countenance dutifully

reflected.

"Howkindyoubothare,dearHenry—always!NewlandwillparticularlyappreciatewhatyouhavedonebecauseofdearMayandhisnewrelations."

Sheshotanadmonitoryglanceatherson,whosaid:"Immensely,sir.ButIwassureyou'dlikeMadameOlenska."

Mr.vanderLuydenlookedathimwithextremegentleness."Ineverasktomyhouse,mydearNewland,"hesaid,"anyonewhomIdonotlike.AndsoIhavejusttoldSillertonJackson."Withaglanceattheclockheroseandadded:"But Louisa will be waiting. We are dining early, to take the Duke to theOpera."

After theportiereshad solemnlyclosedbehind theirvisitor a silence fellupontheArcherfamily.

"Gracious—howromantic!"at lastbrokeexplosivelyfromJaney.Nooneknewexactlywhatinspiredherellipticcomments,andherrelationshadlongsincegivenuptryingtointerpretthem.

Mrs.Archershookherheadwithasigh."Provideditallturnsoutforthebest," she said, in the tone of one who knows how surely it will not."Newland, you must stay and see Sillerton Jackson when he comes thisevening:Ireallyshan'tknowwhattosaytohim."

"Poor mother! But he won't come—" her son laughed, stooping to kissawayherfrown.

XI.

Sometwoweekslater,NewlandArcher,sittinginabstractedidlenessinhisprivatecompartmentoftheofficeofLetterblair,LamsonandLow,attorneysatlaw,wassummonedbytheheadofthefirm.

Old Mr. Letterblair, the accredited legal adviser of three generations ofNewYorkgentility,thronedbehindhismahoganydeskinevidentperplexity.Ashe strokedhis closeclippedwhitewhiskers and ranhis hand through therumpled grey locks above his jutting brows, his disrespectful junior partnerthoughthowmuchhelookedliketheFamilyPhysicianannoyedwithapatientwhosesymptomsrefusetobeclassified.

"Mydearsir—"healwaysaddressedArcheras"sir"—"Ihavesentforyouto go into a little matter; a matter which, for the moment, I prefer not tomentioneithertoMr.SkipworthorMr.Redwood."Thegentlemenhespokeof

were the other senior partners of the firm; for, aswas always the casewithlegalassociationsofoldstandinginNewYork,allthepartnersnamedontheofficeletter-headwerelongsincedead;andMr.Letterblair,forexample,was,professionallyspeaking,hisowngrandson.

Heleanedbackinhischairwithafurrowedbrow."Forfamilyreasons—"hecontinued.

Archerlookedup.

"TheMingott family,"saidMr.Letterblairwithanexplanatorysmileandbow. "Mrs.MansonMingott sent forme yesterday. Her grand-daughter theCountessOlenskawishestosueherhusbandfordivorce.Certainpapershavebeenplacedinmyhands."Hepausedanddrummedonhisdesk."Inviewofyour prospective alliance with the family I should like to consult you—toconsiderthecasewithyou—beforetakinganyfarthersteps."

Archer felt the blood in his temples.He had seen theCountessOlenskaonly once since his visit to her, and then at theOpera, in theMingott box.During this interval she had become a less vivid and importunate image,recedingfromhisforegroundasMayWellandresumedherrightfulplaceinit.HehadnotheardherdivorcespokenofsinceJaney'sfirstrandomallusiontoit,andhaddismissed the taleasunfoundedgossip.Theoretically, the ideaofdivorcewasalmostasdistastefultohimastohismother;andhewasannoyedthatMr.Letterblair(nodoubtpromptedbyoldCatherineMingott)shouldbesoevidentlyplanningtodrawhimintotheaffair.Afterall,therewereplentyof Mingott men for such jobs, and as yet he was not even a Mingott bymarriage.

Hewaited for the senior partner to continue.Mr. Letterblair unlocked adraweranddrewoutapacket."Ifyouwillrunyoureyeoverthesepapers—"

Archer frowned. "I beg your pardon, sir; but just because of theprospectiverelationship,IshouldpreferyourconsultingMr.SkipworthorMr.Redwood."

Mr.Letterblairlookedsurprisedandslightlyoffended.Itwasunusualforajuniortorejectsuchanopening.

He bowed. "I respect your scruple, sir; but in this case I believe truedelicacy requires you to do as I ask. Indeed, the suggestion is notmine butMrs.MansonMingott's and her son's. I have seenLovellMingott; and alsoMr.Welland.Theyallnamedyou."

Archer felt his temper rising. He had been somewhat languidly driftingwith events for the last fortnight, and letting May's fair looks and radiantnature obliterate the rather importunate pressure of theMingott claims. But

this behest of old Mrs. Mingott's roused him to a sense of what the clanthought they had the right to exact from a prospective son-in-law; and hechafedattherole.

"Herunclesoughttodealwiththis,"hesaid.

"They have. The matter has been gone into by the family. They areopposedtotheCountess'sidea;butsheisfirm,andinsistsonalegalopinion."

Theyoungmanwassilent:hehadnotopenedthepacketinhishand.

"Doesshewanttomarryagain?"

"Ibelieveitissuggested;butshedeniesit."

"Then—"

"Will you obligeme,Mr.Archer, by first looking through these papers?Afterward,whenwehavetalkedthecaseover,Iwillgiveyoumyopinion."

Archerwithdrew reluctantlywith the unwelcome documents. Since theirlast meeting he had half-unconsciously collaborated with events in riddinghimself of the burden ofMadameOlenska. His hour alonewith her by thefirelighthaddrawnthemintoamomentaryintimacyonwhichtheDukeofSt.Austrey's intrusion with Mrs. Lemuel Struthers, and the Countess's joyousgreetingofthem,hadratherprovidentiallybroken.TwodayslaterArcherhadassistedatthecomedyofherreinstatementinthevanderLuydens'favour,andhad said to himself,with a touch of tartness, that a ladywho knew how tothank all-powerful elderly gentlemen to such good purpose for a bunch offlowers did not need either the private consolations or the publicchampionshipofayoungmanofhissmallcompass.Tolookatthematterinthis light simplified his own case and surprisingly furbished up all the dimdomesticvirtues.HecouldnotpictureMayWelland,inwhateverconceivableemergency, hawking about her private difficulties and lavishing herconfidencesonstrangemen;andshehadneverseemedtohimfinerorfairerthan in theweek that followed.Hehad even yielded to herwish for a longengagement, since she had found the one disarming answer to his plea forhaste.

"Youknow,whenitcomestothepoint,yourparentshavealwaysletyouhave your way ever since you were a little girl," he argued; and she hadanswered,with her clearest look: "Yes; and that's whatmakes it so hard torefusetheverylastthingthey'lleveraskofmeasalittlegirl."

ThatwastheoldNewYorknote;thatwasthekindofanswerhewouldlikealwaystobesureofhiswife'smaking.IfonehadhabituallybreathedtheNewYorkairthereweretimeswhenanythinglesscrystallineseemedstifling.

*

Thepapershehad retired to readdidnot tellhimmuch in fact;but theyplunged him into an atmosphere in which he choked and spluttered. TheyconsistedmainlyofanexchangeoflettersbetweenCountOlenski'ssolicitorsandaFrenchlegalfirmtowhomtheCountesshadappliedforthesettlementofherfinancialsituation.Therewasalsoashort letterfromtheCounttohiswife:afterreadingit,NewlandArcherrose,jammedthepapersbackintotheirenvelope,andreenteredMr.Letterblair'soffice.

"Herearetheletters,sir.Ifyouwish,I'llseeMadameOlenska,"hesaidinaconstrainedvoice.

"Thank you—thank you,Mr.Archer. Come and dinewithme tonight ifyou'refree,andwe'llgointothematterafterward:incaseyouwishtocallonourclienttomorrow."

NewlandArcherwalkedstraighthomeagainthatafternoon.Itwasawinterevening of transparent clearness, with an innocent young moon above thehouse-tops;andhewantedtofillhissoul'slungswiththepureradiance,andnot exchange awordwith any one till he andMr.Letterblairwere closetedtogetherafterdinner.Itwasimpossibletodecideotherwisethanhehaddone:hemust seeMadameOlenskahimself rather than lether secretsbebared toothereyes.Agreatwaveofcompassionhadsweptawayhisindifferenceandimpatience:shestoodbeforehimasanexposedandpitifulfigure,tobesavedatallcostsfromfartherwoundingherselfinhermadplungesagainstfate.

He remembered what she had told him ofMrs.Welland's request to besparedwhateverwas "unpleasant" in her history, andwinced at the thoughtthatitwasperhapsthisattitudeofmindwhichkepttheNewYorkairsopure."Are we only Pharisees after all?" he wondered, puzzled by the effort toreconcilehisinstinctivedisgustathumanvilenesswithhisequallyinstinctivepityforhumanfrailty.

For the first time he perceived how elementary his own principles hadalwaysbeen.Hepassedforayoungmanwhohadnotbeenafraidofrisks,andheknewthathissecretlove-affairwithpoorsillyMrs.ThorleyRushworthhadnotbeentoosecrettoinvesthimwithabecomingairofadventure.ButMrs.Rushworthwas"thatkindofwoman";foolish,vain,clandestinebynature,andfarmoreattractedby thesecrecyandperilof theaffair thanbysuchcharmsandqualitiesashepossessed.Whenthefactdawnedonhimitnearlybrokehisheart,butnowitseemedtheredeemingfeatureofthecase.Theaffair,inshort,hadbeenofthekindthatmostoftheyoungmenofhisagehadbeenthrough,and emerged from with calm consciences and an undisturbed belief in theabysmal distinction between the women one loved and respected and thoseone enjoyed—andpitied. In this view theywere sedulously abettedby theirmothers,auntsandotherelderlyfemalerelatives,whoallsharedMrs.Archer's

belief that when "such things happened" it was undoubtedly foolish of theman,butsomehowalwayscriminalofthewoman.AlltheelderlyladieswhomArcher knew regarded any woman who loved imprudently as necessarilyunscrupulousanddesigning,andmeresimple-mindedmanaspowerlessinherclutches.Theonly thing to dowas to persuadehim, as early as possible, tomarryanicegirl,andthentrusttohertolookafterhim.

In the complicated old European communities, Archer began to guess,love-problemsmight be less simple and less easily classified.Rich and idleandornamentalsocietiesmustproducemanymoresuchsituations;andtheremightevenbeoneinwhichawomannaturallysensitiveandaloofwouldyet,fromtheforceofcircumstances,fromsheerdefencelessnessandloneliness,bedrawnintoatieinexcusablebyconventionalstandards.

OnreachinghomehewrotealinetotheCountessOlenska,askingatwhathourofthenextdayshecouldreceivehim,anddespatcheditbyamessenger-boy,who returnedpresentlywith aword to the effect that shewasgoing toSkuytercliffthenextmorningtostayoverSundaywiththevanderLuydens,but that he would find her alone that evening after dinner. The note waswrittenonaratheruntidyhalf-sheet,withoutdateoraddress,butherhandwasfirm and free.Hewas amused at the idea of herweek-ending in the statelysolitudeofSkuytercliff,butimmediatelyafterwardfeltthatthere,ofallplaces,she would most feel the chill of minds rigorously averted from the"unpleasant."

*

He was at Mr. Letterblair's punctually at seven, glad of the pretext forexcusinghimselfsoonafterdinner.Hehadformedhisownopinionfromthepapersentrustedtohim,anddidnotespeciallywanttogointothematterwithhis senior partner. Mr. Letterblair was a widower, and they dined alone,copiously and slowly, in a dark shabby roomhungwith yellowingprints of"The Death of Chatham" and "The Coronation of Napoleon." On thesideboard, between fluted Sheraton knife-cases, stood a decanter of HautBrion, and another of the old Lanning port (the gift of a client), which thewastrel TomLanning had sold off a year or two before hismysterious anddiscreditabledeathinSanFrancisco—anincidentlesspubliclyhumiliatingtothefamilythanthesaleofthecellar.

After a velvety oyster soup came shad and cucumbers, then a youngbroiledturkeywithcornfritters,followedbyacanvas-backwithcurrantjellyandacelerymayonnaise.Mr.Letterblair,wholunchedonasandwichandtea,dined deliberately and deeply, and insisted on his guest's doing the same.Finally,whentheclosingriteshadbeenaccomplished,theclothwasremoved,cigarswerelit,andMr.Letterblair,leaningbackinhischairandpushingthe

portwestward,said,spreadinghisbackagreeablytothecoalfirebehindhim:"Thewholefamilyareagainstadivorce.AndIthinkrightly."

Archerinstantlyfelthimselfontheothersideoftheargument."Butwhy,sir?Ifthereeverwasacase—"

"Well—what's the use? SHE'S here—he's there; the Atlantic's betweenthem. She'll never get back a dollar more of her money than what he'svoluntarily returned to her: their damned heathenmarriage settlements takeprecious good care of that. As things go over there, Olenski's actedgenerously:hemighthaveturnedheroutwithoutapenny."

Theyoungmanknewthisandwassilent.

"I understand, though," Mr. Letterblair continued, "that she attaches noimportance to the money. Therefore, as the family say, why not let wellenoughalone?"

Archerhadgone to thehouse anhour earlier in full agreementwithMr.Letterblair'sview;butput intowordsby thisselfish,well-fedandsupremelyindifferentoldmanitsuddenlybecamethePharisaicvoiceofasocietywhollyabsorbedinbarricadingitselfagainsttheunpleasant.

"Ithinkthat'sforhertodecide."

"H'm—haveyouconsideredtheconsequencesifshedecidesfordivorce?"

"You mean the threat in her husband's letter? What weight would thatcarry?It'snomorethanthevaguechargeofanangryblackguard."

"Yes;butitmightmakesomeunpleasanttalkifhereallydefendsthesuit."

"Unpleasant—!"saidArcherexplosively.

Mr. Letterblair looked at him from under enquiring eyebrows, and theyoung man, aware of the uselessness of trying to explain what was in hismind, bowed acquiescently while his senior continued: "Divorce is alwaysunpleasant."

"Youagreewithme?"Mr.Letterblairresumed,afterawaitingsilence.

"Naturally,"saidArcher.

"Well, then, Imaycountonyou; theMingottsmaycountonyou; touseyourinfluenceagainsttheidea?"

Archer hesitated. "I can't pledge myself till I've seen the CountessOlenska,"hesaidatlength.

"Mr.Archer, Idon'tunderstandyou.Doyouwant tomarry intoafamilywithascandalousdivorce-suithangingoverit?"

"Idon'tthinkthathasanythingtodowiththecase."

Mr.Letterblairputdownhisglassofportandfixedonhisyoungpartneracautiousandapprehensivegaze.

Archerunderstood thathe ran the riskofhavinghismandatewithdrawn,and for someobscure reasonhedisliked theprospect.Now that the jobhadbeenthrustonhimhedidnotproposetorelinquishit;and,toguardagainstthepossibility,hesawthathemustreassuretheunimaginativeoldmanwhowasthelegalconscienceoftheMingotts.

"Youmaybesure,sir,thatIshan'tcommitmyselftillI'vereportedtoyou;what I meant was that I'd rather not give an opinion till I've heard whatMadameOlenskahastosay."

Mr.Letterblairnoddedapprovinglyatanexcessofcautionworthyof thebestNewYorktradition,andtheyoungman,glancingathiswatch,pleadedanengagementandtookleave.

XII.

Old-fashionedNewYorkdinedatseven,andthehabitofafter-dinnercalls,though derided in Archer's set, still generally prevailed. As the youngmanstrolled up Fifth Avenue from Waverley Place, the long thoroughfare wasdeserted but for a group of carriages standing before the Reggie Chiverses'(where there was a dinner for the Duke), and the occasional figure of anelderly gentleman in heavy overcoat and muffler ascending a brownstonedoorstep and disappearing into a gas-lit hall. Thus, as Archer crossedWashington Square, he remarked that old Mr. du Lac was calling on hiscousins theDagonets, and turning down the corner ofWestTenth Street hesawMr.Skipworth,ofhisownfirm,obviouslyboundonavisit to theMissLannings.AlittlefartherupFifthAvenue,Beaufortappearedonhisdoorstep,darklyprojectedagainstablazeof light,descendedtohisprivatebrougham,and rolled away to amysterious and probably unmentionable destination. Itwas not an Opera night, and no one was giving a party, so that Beaufort'souting was undoubtedly of a clandestine nature. Archer connected it in hismind with a little house beyond Lexington Avenue in which beribbonedwindowcurtains and flower-boxes had recently appeared, andbeforewhosenewly painted door the canary-coloured broughamofMissFannyRingwasfrequentlyseentowait.

Beyond the small and slippery pyramid which composed Mrs. Archer'sworld lay the almost unmapped quarter inhabited by artists, musicians and

"peoplewhowrote."Thesescatteredfragmentsofhumanityhadnevershownanydesire tobeamalgamatedwith thesocialstructure. Inspiteofoddwaystheyweresaidtobe,forthemostpart,quiterespectable;buttheypreferredtokeeptothemselves.MedoraManson,inherprosperousdays,hadinaugurateda "literary salon"; but it had soon died out owing to the reluctance of theliterarytofrequentit.

Othershadmadethesameattempt,andtherewasahouseholdofBlenkers—anintenseandvolublemother,andthreeblowsydaughterswhoimitatedher—where onemet Edwin Booth and Patti andWilliamWinter, and the newShakespearian actorGeorgeRignold, and someof themagazine editors andmusicalandliterarycritics.

Mrs.Archerandhergroupfeltacertaintimidityconcerningthesepersons.Theywereodd,theywereuncertain,theyhadthingsonedidn'tknowaboutinthe background of their lives and minds. Literature and art were deeplyrespected in theArcher set, andMrs.Archerwasalwaysatpains to tellherchildren howmuchmore agreeable and cultivated society had beenwhen itincludedsuchfiguresasWashingtonIrving,Fitz-GreeneHalleckandthepoetof"TheCulpritFay."Themostcelebratedauthorsofthatgenerationhadbeen"gentlemen"; perhaps the unknown persons who succeeded them hadgentlemanly sentiments, but their origin, their appearance, their hair, theirintimacy with the stage and the Opera, made any old New York criterioninapplicabletothem.

"When I was a girl," Mrs. Archer used to say, "we knew everybodybetween the Battery and Canal Street; and only the people one knew hadcarriages.Itwasperfectlyeasytoplaceanyonethen;nowonecan'ttell,andIprefernottotry."

Only old Catherine Mingott, with her absence of moral prejudices andalmostparvenuindifferencetothesubtlerdistinctions,mighthavebridgedtheabyss;butshehadneveropenedabookorlookedatapicture,andcaredformusiconlybecauseitremindedherofgalanightsattheItaliens,inthedaysofhertriumphattheTuileries.PossiblyBeaufort,whowashermatchindaring,would have succeeded in bringing about a fusion; but his grand house andsilk-stockingedfootmenwereanobstacletoinformalsociability.Moreover,hewasasilliterateasoldMrs.Mingott,andconsidered"fellowswhowrote"asthemerepaidpurveyorsof richmen'spleasures; andnoone rich enough toinfluencehisopinionhadeverquestionedit.

Newland Archer had been aware of these things ever since he couldremember,andhadacceptedthemaspartofthestructureofhisuniverse.Heknewthatthereweresocietieswherepaintersandpoetsandnovelistsandmenofscience,andevengreatactors,wereassoughtafterasDukes;hehadoften

picturedtohimselfwhatitwouldhavebeentoliveintheintimacyofdrawing-roomsdominatedbythetalkofMerimee(whose"LettresauneInconnue"wasoneofhisinseparables),ofThackeray,BrowningorWilliamMorris.Butsuchthings were inconceivable in New York, and unsettling to think of. Archerknewmostofthe"fellowswhowrote,"themusiciansandthepainters:hemetthem at the Century, or at the little musical and theatrical clubs that werebeginningtocomeintoexistence.Heenjoyedthemthere,andwasboredwiththemattheBlenkers',wheretheyweremingledwithfervidanddowdywomenwho passed them about like captured curiosities; and even after his mostexcitingtalkswithNedWinsetthealwayscameawaywiththefeelingthatifhisworldwassmall,sowastheirs,andthattheonlywaytoenlargeeitherwastoreachastageofmannerswheretheywouldnaturallymerge.

He was reminded of this by trying to picture the society in which theCountess Olenska had lived and suffered, and also—perhaps—tastedmysteriousjoys.Herememberedwithwhatamusementshehadtoldhimthather grandmother Mingott and the Wellands objected to her living in a"Bohemian"quartergivenoverto"peoplewhowrote."Itwasnottheperilbutthe poverty that her family disliked; but that shade escaped her, and shesupposedtheyconsideredliteraturecompromising.

Sheherselfhadnofearsofit,andthebooksscatteredaboutherdrawing-room(apartofthehouseinwhichbookswereusuallysupposedtobe"outofplace"), though chiefly works of fiction, hadwhettedArcher's interest withsuch new names as those of Paul Bourget, Huysmans, and the Goncourtbrothers.Ruminatingonthesethingsasheapproachedherdoor,hewasoncemoreconsciousofthecuriouswayinwhichshereversedhisvalues,andoftheneedofthinkinghimselfintoconditionsincrediblydifferentfromanythatheknewifheweretobeofuseinherpresentdifficulty.

*

Nastasiaopened thedoor, smilingmysteriously.On thebench in thehalllayasable-linedovercoat,afoldedoperahatofdullsilkwithagoldJ.B.onthelining,andawhitesilkmuffler:therewasnomistakingthefactthatthesecostlyarticleswerethepropertyofJuliusBeaufort.

Archerwas angry: so angry that he came near scribbling aword on hiscardandgoingaway;thenherememberedthatinwritingtoMadameOlenskahehadbeenkeptbyexcessofdiscretionfromsayingthathewishedtoseeherprivately.Hehadthereforenoonebuthimselftoblameifshehadopenedherdoors to other visitors; and he entered the drawing-room with the doggeddeterminationtomakeBeaufortfeelhimselfintheway,andtooutstayhim.

Thebankerstoodleaningagainstthemantelshelf,whichwasdrapedwithanoldembroideryheldinplacebybrasscandelabracontainingchurchcandles

ofyellowishwax.Hehadthrusthischestout,supportinghisshouldersagainstthemantelandrestinghisweightononelargepatent-leatherfoot.AsArcherenteredhewas smilingand lookingdownonhishostess,who satona sofaplacedat rightangles to thechimney.A tablebankedwith flowers formedascreen behind it, and against the orchids and azaleaswhich the youngmanrecognised as tributes from the Beaufort hot-houses, Madame Olenska sathalf-reclined,herheadproppedonahandandherwidesleeveleavingthearmbaretotheelbow.

Itwas usual for ladieswho received in the evenings towearwhatwerecalled "simple dinner dresses": a close-fitting armour of whale-boned silk,slightlyopenintheneck,withlacerufflesfillinginthecrack,andtightsleeveswithaflounceuncoveringjustenoughwristtoshowanEtruscangoldbraceletoravelvetband.ButMadameOlenska,heedlessoftradition,wasattiredinalongrobeofredvelvetborderedaboutthechinanddownthefrontwithglossyblackfur.Archerremembered,onhislastvisittoParis,seeingaportraitbythenewpainter,CarolusDuran,whosepictureswerethesensationoftheSalon,inwhichtheladyworeoneoftheseboldsheath-likerobeswithherchinnestlinginfur.Therewassomethingperverseandprovocativeinthenotionoffurwornintheeveninginaheateddrawing-room,andinthecombinationofamuffledthroatandbarearms;buttheeffectwasundeniablypleasing.

"Lordloveus—threewholedaysatSkuytercliff!"BeaufortwassayinginhisloudsneeringvoiceasArcherentered."You'dbettertakeallyourfurs,andahot-water-bottle."

"Why? Is the house so cold?" she asked, holding out her left hand toArcherinawaymysteriouslysuggestingthatsheexpectedhimtokissit.

"No; but the missus is," said Beaufort, nodding carelessly to the youngman.

"ButI thoughthersokind.Shecameherself to inviteme.GrannysaysImustcertainlygo."

"Grannywould,ofcourse.AndIsayit'sashameyou'regoingtomissthelittle oyster supper I'd planned for you at Delmonico's next Sunday, withCampaniniandScalchiandalotofjollypeople."

ShelookeddoubtfullyfromthebankertoArcher.

"Ah—thatdoestemptme!ExcepttheothereveningatMrs.Struthers'sI'venotmetasingleartistsinceI'vebeenhere."

"Whatkindofartists?Iknowoneortwopainters,verygoodfellows,thatIcouldbringtoseeyouifyou'dallowme,"saidArcherboldly.

"Painters? Are there painters in New York?" asked Beaufort, in a tone

implying that there could be none since he did not buy their pictures; andMadame Olenska said to Archer, with her grave smile: "That would becharming. But I was really thinking of dramatic artists, singers, actors,musicians.Myhusband'shousewasalwaysfullofthem."

She said the words "my husband" as if no sinister associations wereconnectedwith them,and ina tone that seemedalmost to sighover the lostdelightsofhermarriedlife.Archerlookedatherperplexedly,wonderingifitwerelightnessordissimulationthatenabledhertotouchsoeasilyonthepastattheverymomentwhenshewasriskingherreputationinordertobreakwithit.

"Idothink,"shewenton,addressingbothmen,"thattheimprevuaddstoone'senjoyment.It'sperhapsamistaketoseethesamepeopleeveryday."

"It'sconfoundedlydull,anyhow;NewYorkisdyingofdullness,"Beaufortgrumbled."AndwhenItrytolivenitupforyou,yougobackonme.Come—thinkbetterofit!Sundayisyourlastchance,forCampaninileavesnextweekforBaltimoreandPhiladelphia;andI'veaprivateroom,andaSteinway,andthey'llsingallnightforme."

"Howdelicious!MayIthinkitover,andwritetoyoutomorrowmorning?"

She spoke amiably, yet with the least hint of dismissal in her voice.Beaufortevidentlyfeltit,andbeingunusedtodismissals,stoodstaringatherwithanobstinatelinebetweenhiseyes.

"Whynotnow?"

"It'stooseriousaquestiontodecideatthislatehour."

"Doyoucallitlate?"

Shereturnedhisglancecoolly."Yes;becauseIhavestill to talkbusinesswithMr.Archerforalittlewhile."

"Ah,"Beaufort snapped.Therewasno appeal fromher tone, andwith aslightshrugherecoveredhiscomposure,tookherhand,whichhekissedwithapractisedair,andcallingoutfromthethreshold:"Isay,Newland,ifyoucanpersuadetheCountesstostopintownofcourseyou'reincludedinthesupper,"lefttheroomwithhisheavyimportantstep.

ForamomentArcherfanciedthatMr.Letterblairmusthavetoldherofhiscoming;buttheirrelevanceofhernextremarkmadehimchangehismind.

"Youknowpainters, then?You live in theirmilieu?"sheasked,hereyesfullofinterest.

"Oh,notexactly.Idon'tknowthattheartshaveamilieuhere,anyofthem;they'remorelikeaverythinlysettledoutskirt."

"Butyoucareforsuchthings?"

"Immensely.WhenI'minParisorLondonInevermissanexhibition.Itrytokeepup."

Shelookeddownatthetipofthelittlesatinbootthatpeepedfromherlongdraperies.

"Iusedtocareimmenselytoo:mylifewasfullofsuchthings.ButnowIwanttotrynotto."

"Youwanttotrynotto?"

"Yes:Iwanttocastoffallmyoldlife,tobecomejustlikeeverybodyelsehere."

Archerreddened."You'llneverbelikeeverybodyelse,"hesaid.

Sheraisedherstraighteyebrowsalittle."Ah,don'tsaythat.IfyouknewhowIhatetobedifferent!"

Her face had grown as sombre as a tragic mask. She leaned forward,claspingherkneeinher thinhands,andlookingawayfromhimintoremotedarkdistances.

"Iwanttogetawayfromitall,"sheinsisted.

Hewaited amoment and clearedhis throat. "I know.Mr.Letterblair hastoldme."

"Ah?"

"That'sthereasonI'vecome.Heaskedmeto—youseeI'minthefirm."

She looked slightly surprised, and then her eyes brightened. "Youmeanyoucanmanageitforme?IcantalktoyouinsteadofMr.Letterblair?Oh,thatwillbesomucheasier!"

Her tone touchedhim,andhisconfidencegrewwithhisself-satisfaction.HeperceivedthatshehadspokenofbusinesstoBeaufortsimplytogetridofhim;andtohaveroutedBeaufortwassomethingofatriumph.

"Iamheretotalkaboutit,"herepeated.

Shesatsilent,herheadstillproppedbythearmthatrestedonthebackofthesofa.Herfacelookedpaleandextinguished,asifdimmedbytherichredof her dress. She struckArcher, of a sudden, as a pathetic and even pitifulfigure.

"Nowwe'recomingtohardfacts,"hethought,consciousinhimselfofthesame instinctive recoil that he had so often criticised in hismother and hercontemporaries. How little practice he had had in dealing with unusual

situations!Theirveryvocabularywasunfamiliartohim,andseemedtobelongtofictionand thestage. Infaceofwhatwascominghefeltasawkwardandembarrassedasaboy.

AfterapauseMadameOlenskabrokeoutwithunexpectedvehemence:"Iwanttobefree;Iwanttowipeoutallthepast."

"Iunderstandthat."

Herfacewarmed."Thenyou'llhelpme?"

"First—"hehesitated—"perhapsIoughttoknowalittlemore."

Sheseemedsurprised."Youknowaboutmyhusband—mylifewithhim?"

Hemadeasignofassent.

"Well—then—what more is there? In this country are such thingstolerated?I'maProtestant—ourchurchdoesnotforbiddivorceinsuchcases."

"Certainlynot."

Theywerebothsilentagain,andArcherfeltthespectreofCountOlenski'sletter grimacing hideously between them. The letter filled only half a page,andwasjustwhathehaddescribedittobeinspeakingofittoMr.Letterblair:thevaguechargeofanangryblackguard.Buthowmuchtruthwasbehindit?OnlyCountOlenski'swifecouldtell.

"I've looked through the papers you gave toMr. Letterblair," he said atlength.

"Well—cantherebeanythingmoreabominable?"

"No."

Shechangedherpositionslightly,screeninghereyeswithherliftedhand.

"Ofcourseyouknow,"Archercontinued,"thatifyourhusbandchoosestofightthecase—ashethreatensto—"

"Yes—?"

"Hecansaythings—thingsthatmightbeunpl—mightbedisagreeabletoyou:saythempublicly,sothattheywouldgetabout,andharmyouevenif—"

"If—?"

"Imean:nomatterhowunfoundedtheywere."

Shepausedforalonginterval;solongthat,notwishingtokeephiseyesonhershadedface,hehadtimetoimprintonhismindtheexactshapeofherother hand, the one on her knee, and every detail of the three rings on herfourth and fifth fingers; among which, he noticed, a wedding ring did not

appear.

"Whatharmcouldsuchaccusations,evenifhemadethempublicly,domehere?"

It was on his lips to exclaim: "My poor child—far more harm thananywhereelse!"Instead,heanswered,inavoicethatsoundedinhisearslikeMr.Letterblair's:"NewYorksocietyisaverysmallworldcomparedwiththeoneyou've lived in.And it's ruled, in spiteof appearances,bya fewpeoplewith—well,ratherold-fashionedideas."

Shesaidnothing,andhecontinued:"Ourideasaboutmarriageanddivorceare particularly old-fashioned. Our legislation favours divorce—our socialcustomsdon't."

"Never?"

"Well—not if the woman, however injured, however irreproachable, hasappearances in the least degree against her, has exposed herself by anyunconventionalactionto—tooffensiveinsinuations—"

Shedroopedherheadalittlelower,andhewaitedagain,intenselyhopingforaflashofindignation,oratleastabriefcryofdenial.Nonecame.

A little travellingclock tickedpurringlyatherelbow,anda logbroke intwo and sent up a shower of sparks. Thewhole hushed and brooding roomseemedtobewaitingsilentlywithArcher.

"Yes,"shemurmuredatlength,"that'swhatmyfamilytellme."

Hewincedalittle."It'snotunnatural—"

"OURfamily,"shecorrectedherself;andArchercoloured."Foryou'llbemycousinsoon,"shecontinuedgently.

"Ihopeso."

"Andyoutaketheirview?"

Hestoodupatthis,wanderedacrosstheroom,staredwithvoideyesatoneofthepicturesagainst theoldreddamask,andcamebackirresolutelytoherside.Howcouldhesay:"Yes,ifwhatyourhusbandhintsistrue,orifyou'venowayofdisprovingit?"

"Sincerely—"sheinterjected,ashewasabouttospeak.

Helookeddownintothefire."Sincerely,then—whatshouldyougainthatwouldcompensateforthepossibility—thecertainty—ofalotofbeastlytalk?"

"Butmyfreedom—isthatnothing?"

It flashedacrosshimat that instant that thecharge in the letterwas true,

and that shehoped tomarry thepartnerofherguilt.Howwashe to tellherthat,ifshereallycherishedsuchaplan,thelawsoftheStatewereinexorablyopposedtoit?Themeresuspicionthatthethoughtwasinhermindmadehimfeelharshlyandimpatientlytowardher."Butaren'tyouasfreeasairasitis?"he returned. "Who can touch you? Mr. Letterblair tells me the financialquestionhasbeensettled—"

"Oh,yes,"shesaidindifferently.

"Well, then: is itworthwhile to riskwhatmaybe infinitelydisagreeableand painful? Think of the newspapers—their vileness! It's all stupid andnarrowandunjust—butonecan'tmakeoversociety."

"No,"sheacquiesced;andhertonewassofaintanddesolatethathefeltasuddenremorseforhisownhardthoughts.

"The individual, in such cases, is nearly always sacrificed to what issupposed to be the collective interest: people cling to any convention thatkeepsthefamilytogether—protectsthechildren,ifthereareany,"herambledon,pouringoutallthestockphrasesthatrosetohislipsinhisintensedesiretocoverovertheuglyrealitywhichhersilenceseemedtohavelaidbare.Sinceshewouldnotorcouldnotsaytheonewordthatwouldhaveclearedtheair,hiswishwas not to let her feel that hewas trying to probe into her secret.Better keep on the surface, in the prudent old New York way, than riskuncoveringawoundhecouldnotheal.

"It'smybusiness,youknow,"hewenton,"tohelpyoutoseethesethingsas thepeoplewhoare fondestofyousee them.TheMingotts, theWellands,the van der Luydens, all your friends and relations: if I didn't show youhonestlyhowtheyjudgesuchquestions,itwouldn'tbefairofme,wouldit?"Hespokeinsistently,almostpleadingwithherinhiseagernesstocoverupthatyawningsilence.

Shesaidslowly:"No;itwouldn'tbefair."

The fire had crumbled down to greyness, and one of the lampsmade agurglingappealforattention.MadameOlenskarose,wounditupandreturnedtothefire,butwithoutresumingherseat.

Herremainingonherfeetseemedtosignify that therewasnothingmoreforeitherofthemtosay,andArcherstoodupalso.

"Verywell;Iwilldowhatyouwish,"shesaidabruptly.Thebloodrushedto his forehead; and, taken aback by the suddenness of her surrender, hecaughthertwohandsawkwardlyinhis.

"I—Idowanttohelpyou,"hesaid.

"Youdohelpme.Goodnight,mycousin."

Hebentandlaidhis lipsonherhands,whichwerecoldandlifeless.Shedrewthemaway,andheturnedtothedoor,foundhiscoatandhatunderthefaintgas-lightofthehall,andplungedoutintothewinternightburstingwiththebelatedeloquenceoftheinarticulate.

XIII.

ItwasacrowdednightatWallack'stheatre.

Theplaywas"TheShaughraun,"withDionBoucicaultinthetitleroleandHarryMontagueandAdaDyasasthelovers.ThepopularityoftheadmirableEnglish company was at its height, and the Shaughraun always packed thehouse.Inthegalleriestheenthusiasmwasunreserved;inthestallsandboxes,peoplesmiledalittleatthehackneyedsentimentsandclap-trapsituations,andenjoyedtheplayasmuchasthegalleriesdid.

There was one episode, in particular, that held the house from floor toceiling.ItwasthatinwhichHarryMontague,afterasad,almostmonosyllabicsceneof partingwithMissDyas, badeher good-bye, and turned to go.Theactress,whowasstandingnearthemantelpieceandlookingdownintothefire,wore a gray cashmere dress without fashionable loopings or trimmings,mouldedtohertallfigureandflowinginlonglinesaboutherfeet.Aroundherneckwasanarrowblackvelvetribbonwiththeendsfallingdownherback.

Whenherwooer turnedfromhersherestedherarmsagainst themantel-shelfandbowedherfaceinherhands.Onthethresholdhepausedtolookather;thenhestoleback,liftedoneoftheendsofvelvetribbon,kissedit,andleft the roomwithout her hearinghimor changingher attitude.Andon thissilentpartingthecurtainfell.

It was always for the sake of that particular scene thatNewlandArcherwent tosee"TheShaughraun."Hethought theadieuxofMontagueandAdaDyasasfineasanythinghehadeverseenCroisetteandBressantdoinParis,orMadgeRobertsonandKendalinLondon;initsreticence,itsdumbsorrow,itmovedhimmorethanthemostfamoushistrionicoutpourings.

Ontheeveninginquestionthelittlesceneacquiredanaddedpoignancybyreminding him—he could not have said why—of his leave-taking fromMadameOlenskaaftertheirconfidentialtalkaweekortendaysearlier.

Itwouldhavebeen asdifficult todiscover any resemblancebetween thetwosituationsasbetweentheappearanceofthepersonsconcerned.NewlandArcher couldnot pretend to anything approaching theyoungEnglish actor'sromantic good looks, and Miss Dyas was a tall red-haired woman of

monumental build whose pale and pleasantly ugly face was utterly unlikeEllen Olenska's vivid countenance. Nor were Archer andMadame Olenskatwo lovers parting in heart-broken silence; they were client and lawyerseparating after a talk which had given the lawyer the worst possibleimpressionoftheclient'scase.Wherein,then,laytheresemblancethatmadetheyoungman'sheartbeatwithakindofretrospectiveexcitement?Itseemedto be in Madame Olenska's mysterious faculty of suggesting tragic andmovingpossibilitiesoutsidethedailyrunofexperience.Shehadhardlyeversaidawordtohimtoproducethisimpression,butitwasapartofher,eitheraprojection of her mysterious and outlandish background or of somethinginherently dramatic, passionate and unusual in herself. Archer had alwaysbeen inclined to think that chance and circumstance played a small part inshaping people's lots compared with their innate tendency to have thingshappentothem.ThistendencyhehadfeltfromthefirstinMadameOlenska.The quiet, almost passive young woman struck him as exactly the kind ofpersontowhomthingswereboundtohappen,nomatterhowmuchsheshrankfromthemandwentoutofherwaytoavoidthem.Theexcitingfactwasherhaving lived inanatmosphereso thickwithdramathatherowntendency toprovoke it had apparently passed unperceived. It was precisely the oddabsenceofsurpriseinherthatgavehimthesenseofherhavingbeenpluckedoutofaverymaelstrom:thethingsshetookforgrantedgavethemeasureofthoseshehadrebelledagainst.

Archer had left her with the conviction that Count Olenski's accusationwasnotunfounded.Themysteriouspersonwhofigured inhiswife'spastas"thesecretary"hadprobablynotbeenunrewardedforhisshareinherescape.The conditions fromwhich she had fledwere intolerable, past speaking of,pastbelieving:shewasyoung,shewasfrightened,shewasdesperate—whatmorenaturalthanthatsheshouldbegratefultoherrescuer?Thepitywasthather gratitude put her, in the law's eyes and the world's, on a par with herabominablehusband.Archerhadmadeherunderstandthis,ashewasboundtodo;hehadalsomadeherunderstandthatsimpleheartedkindlyNewYork,onwhose larger charity she had apparently counted, was precisely the placewhereshecouldleasthopeforindulgence.

To have to make this fact plain to her—and to witness her resignedacceptanceof it—hadbeenintolerablypainful tohim.Hefelthimselfdrawnto her by obscure feelings of jealousy and pity, as if her dumbly-confessederrorhadputherathismercy,humblingyetendearingher.Hewasgladitwasto him she had revealed her secret, rather than to the cold scrutiny ofMr.Letterblair, or the embarrassed gaze of her family. He immediately took ituponhimselftoassurethemboththatshehadgivenupherideaofseekingadivorce, basing her decision on the fact that she had understood theuselessnessoftheproceeding;andwithinfiniterelieftheyhadallturnedtheir

eyesfromthe"unpleasantness"shehadsparedthem.

"IwassureNewlandwouldmanageit,"Mrs.Wellandhadsaidproudlyofher future son-in-law; and oldMrs.Mingott,who had summoned him for aconfidential interview, had congratulated him on his cleverness, and addedimpatiently:"Sillygoose!Itoldhermyselfwhatnonsenseitwas.WantingtopassherselfoffasEllenMingottandanoldmaid,whenshehasthelucktobeamarriedwomanandaCountess!"

These incidents had made the memory of his last talk with MadameOlenskasovividtotheyoungmanthatasthecurtainfellonthepartingofthetwoactorshiseyesfilledwithtears,andhestooduptoleavethetheatre.

In doing so, he turned to the side of the house behind him, and saw theladyofwhomhewasthinkingseatedinaboxwiththeBeauforts,LawrenceLefferts andoneor twoothermen.Hehadnot spokenwithher alone sincetheireveningtogether,andhadtriedtoavoidbeingwithherincompany;butnowtheireyesmet,andasMrs.Beaufortrecognisedhimatthesametime,andmadeher languidlittlegestureof invitation, itwasimpossiblenot togointothebox.

BeaufortandLeffertsmadewayforhim,andafterafewwordswithMrs.Beaufort,whoalwayspreferredtolookbeautifulandnothavetotalk,ArcherseatedhimselfbehindMadameOlenska.TherewasnooneelseintheboxbutMr. Sillerton Jackson, who was telling Mrs. Beaufort in a confidentialundertoneaboutMrs.LemuelStruthers's lastSunday reception (where somepeople reported that there had been dancing). Under cover of thiscircumstantial narrative, to which Mrs. Beaufort listened with her perfectsmile,andherheadatjusttherightangletobeseeninprofilefromthestalls,MadameOlenskaturnedandspokeinalowvoice.

"Doyouthink,"sheasked,glancingtowardthestage,"hewillsendherabunchofyellowrosestomorrowmorning?"

Archerreddened,andhisheartgavealeapofsurprise.Hehadcalledonlytwice onMadameOlenska, and each time he had sent her a box of yellowroses,andeachtimewithoutacard.Shehadneverbeforemadeanyallusiontotheflowers,andhesupposedshehadneverthoughtofhimasthesender.Nowhersuddenrecognitionofthegift,andherassociatingitwiththetenderleave-takingonthestage,filledhimwithanagitatedpleasure.

"Iwas thinkingof that too—Iwas going to leave the theatre in order totakethepictureawaywithme,"hesaid.

Tohissurprisehercolourrose,reluctantlyandduskily.Shelookeddownatthemother-of-pearlopera-glassinhersmoothlyglovedhands,andsaid,afterapause:"WhatdoyoudowhileMayisaway?"

"Isticktomywork,"heanswered,faintlyannoyedbythequestion.

Inobediencetoalong-establishedhabit,theWellandshadleftthepreviousweekforSt.Augustine,where,outofregardforthesupposedsusceptibilityofMr.Welland'sbronchialtubes,theyalwaysspentthelatterpartofthewinter.Mr. Welland was a mild and silent man, with no opinions but with manyhabits.Withthesehabitsnonemightinterfere;andoneofthemdemandedthathiswifeanddaughtershouldalwaysgowithhimonhisannualjourneytothesouth. To preserve an unbroken domesticity was essential to his peace ofmind; he would not have known where his hair-brushes were, or how toprovidestampsforhisletters,ifMrs.Wellandhadnotbeentheretotellhim.

Asall themembersof the familyadoredeachother, andasMr.Wellandwasthecentralobjectoftheiridolatry,itneveroccurredtohiswifeandMaytolethimgotoSt.Augustinealone;andhissons,whowerebothinthelaw,andcouldnotleaveNewYorkduringthewinter,alwaysjoinedhimforEasterandtravelledbackwithhim.

It was impossible for Archer to discuss the necessity of May'saccompanyingherfather.ThereputationoftheMingotts'familyphysicianwaslargelybasedontheattackofpneumoniawhichMr.Wellandhadneverhad;andhisinsistenceonSt.Augustinewasthereforeinflexible.Originally,ithadbeenintendedthatMay'sengagementshouldnotbeannouncedtillherreturnfromFlorida,and the fact that ithadbeenmadeknownsoonercouldnotbeexpected to alterMr.Welland's plans. Archer would have liked to join thetravellersandhavea fewweeksof sunshineandboatingwithhisbetrothed;but he too was bound by custom and conventions. Little arduous as hisprofessional duties were, he would have been convicted of frivolity by thewholeMingott clan if he had suggested asking for a holiday inmid-winter;and he accepted May's departure with the resignation which he perceivedwouldhavetobeoneoftheprincipalconstituentsofmarriedlife.

HewasconsciousthatMadameOlenskawaslookingathimunderloweredlids."Ihavedonewhatyouwished—whatyouadvised,"shesaidabruptly.

"Ah—I'mglad,"hereturned,embarrassedbyherbroachingthesubjectatsuchamoment.

"Iunderstand—thatyouwereright,"shewentonalittlebreathlessly;"butsometimeslifeisdifficult...perplexing..."

"Iknow."

"And I wanted to tell you that I DO feel you were right; and that I'mgrateful toyou,"sheended, liftingheropera-glassquicklytohereyesasthedooroftheboxopenedandBeaufort'sresonantvoicebrokeinonthem.

Archerstoodup,andlefttheboxandthetheatre.

OnlythedaybeforehehadreceivedaletterfromMayWellandinwhich,withcharacteristiccandour, shehadaskedhim to"bekind toEllen" in theirabsence."Shelikesyouandadmiresyousomuch—andyouknow,thoughshedoesn't show it, she's still very lonely and unhappy. I don't think Grannyunderstandsher,oruncleLovellMingotteither; theyreally thinkshe'smuchworldlierandfonderofsocietythansheis.AndIcanquiteseethatNewYorkmustseemdulltoher,thoughthefamilywon'tadmitit.Ithinkshe'sbeenusedto lots of things we haven't got; wonderful music, and picture shows, andcelebrities—artistsandauthorsandall thecleverpeopleyouadmire.Grannycan'tunderstandherwantinganythingbut lotsofdinnersandclothes—but Icansee thatyou'realmost theonlyperson inNewYorkwhocan talk toheraboutwhatshereallycaresfor."

HiswiseMay—howhehadlovedherforthatletter!Buthehadnotmeanttoactonit;hewastoobusy,tobeginwith,andhedidnotcare,asanengagedman, toplay tooconspicuously thepartofMadameOlenska'schampion.Hehadanideathatsheknewhowtotakecareofherselfagooddealbetterthanthe ingenuous May imagined. She had Beaufort at her feet, Mr. van derLuyden hovering above her like a protecting deity, and any number ofcandidates (LawrenceLefferts among them)waiting their opportunity in themiddledistance.Yetheneversawher,orexchangedawordwithher,withoutfeeling that, after all, May's ingenuousness almost amounted to a gift ofdivination.EllenOlenskawaslonelyandshewasunhappy.

XIV.

Ashecameout into the lobbyArcher ranacrosshis friendNedWinsett,theonlyoneamongwhatJaneycalledhis"cleverpeople"withwhomhecaredto probe into things a little deeper than the average level of club and chop-housebanter.

He had caught sight, across the house, of Winsett's shabby round-shouldered back, and had once noticed his eyes turned toward theBeaufortbox. The two men shook hands, and Winsett proposed a bock at a littleGermanrestaurantaroundthecorner.Archer,whowasnotinthemoodforthekindoftalktheywerelikelytogetthere,declinedonthepleathathehadworktodoathome;andWinsettsaid:"Oh,wellsohaveIforthatmatter,andI'llbetheIndustriousApprenticetoo."

Theystrolledalongtogether,andpresentlyWinsettsaid:"Lookhere,what

I'mreallyafteristhenameofthedarkladyinthatswellboxofyours—withtheBeauforts,wasn'tshe?TheoneyourfriendLeffertsseemssosmittenby."

Archer,hecouldnothavesaidwhy,wasslightlyannoyed.WhatthedevildidNedWinsettwantwithEllenOlenska'sname?Andaboveall,whydidhecoupleitwithLefferts's?ItwasunlikeWinsetttomanifestsuchcuriosity;butafterall,Archerremembered,hewasajournalist.

"It'snotforaninterview,Ihope?"helaughed.

"Well—not for the press; just formyself,"Winsett rejoined. "The fact isshe'saneighbourofmine—queerquarterforsuchabeautytosettle in—andshe'sbeenawfullykind tomy littleboy,whofelldownherareachasinghiskitten,andgavehimselfanastycut.Sherushedinbareheaded,carryinghiminherarms,withhiskneeallbeautifullybandaged,andwassosympatheticandbeautifulthatmywifewastoodazzledtoaskhername."

ApleasantglowdilatedArcher'sheart.Therewasnothingextraordinaryinthetale:anywomanwouldhavedoneasmuchforaneighbour'schild.ButitwasjustlikeEllen,hefelt,tohaverushedinbareheaded,carryingtheboyinherarms,andtohavedazzledpoorMrs.Winsettintoforgettingtoaskwhoshewas.

"ThatistheCountessOlenska—agranddaughterofoldMrs.Mingott's."

"Whew—a Countess!" whistled Ned Winsett. "Well, I didn't knowCountessesweresoneighbourly.Mingottsain't."

"Theywouldbe,ifyou'dletthem."

"Ah, well—" It was their old interminable argument as to the obstinateunwillingnessofthe"cleverpeople"tofrequentthefashionable,andbothmenknewthattherewasnouseinprolongingit.

"I wonder,"Winsett broke off, "how a Countess happens to live in ourslum?"

"Becauseshedoesn'tcareahangaboutwhereshelives—oraboutanyofourlittlesocialsign-posts,"saidArcher,withasecretprideinhisownpictureofher.

"H'm—been in bigger places, I suppose," the other commented. "Well,here'smycorner."

HeslouchedoffacrossBroadway,andArcherstoodlookingafterhimandmusingonhislastwords.

Ned Winsett had those flashes of penetration; they were the mostinteresting thing about him, and alwaysmadeArcherwonderwhy they hadallowed him to accept failure so stolidly at an agewhenmostmen are still

struggling.

ArcherhadknownthatWinsetthadawifeandchild,buthehadneverseenthem.ThetwomenalwaysmetattheCentury,oratsomehauntofjournalistsandtheatricalpeople,suchastherestaurantwhereWinsetthadproposedtogoforabock.HehadgivenArcher tounderstand thathiswifewasan invalid;which might be true of the poor lady, or might merely mean that she waslackinginsocialgiftsorineveningclothes,orinboth.Winsetthimselfhadasavageabhorrenceofsocialobservances:Archer,whodressedintheeveningbecause he thought it cleaner andmore comfortable to do so, andwho hadneverstoppedtoconsiderthatcleanlinessandcomfortaretwoofthecostliestitems in a modest budget, regardedWinsett's attitude as part of the boring"Bohemian" pose that always made fashionable people, who changed theirclotheswithouttalkingaboutit,andwerenotforeverharpingonthenumberof servantsonekept, seemsomuchsimplerand less self-conscious than theothers.Nevertheless,hewasalwaysstimulatedbyWinsett,andwheneverhecaught sight of the journalist's lean bearded face and melancholy eyes hewouldrouthimoutofhiscornerandcarryhimoffforalongtalk.

Winsett was not a journalist by choice. He was a pure man of letters,untimelyborninaworldthathadnoneedofletters;butafterpublishingonevolumeofbriefandexquisiteliteraryappreciations,ofwhichonehundredandtwenty copies were sold, thirty given away, and the balance eventuallydestroyed by the publishers (as per contract) to make room for moremarketable material, he had abandoned his real calling, and taken a sub-editorial job on awomen's weekly, where fashion-plates and paper patternsalternatedwithNewEngland love-stories and advertisements of temperancedrinks.

On the subject of "Hearth-fires" (as the paper was called) he wasinexhaustiblyentertaining;butbeneathhisfunlurkedthesterilebitternessofthestillyoungmanwhohastriedandgivenup.HisconversationalwaysmadeArcher takethemeasureofhisownlife,andfeelhowlittle itcontained;butWinsett's, after all, contained still less, and though their common fund ofintellectual interests and curiosities made their talks exhilarating, theirexchange of views usually remained within the limits of a pensivedilettantism.

"Thefact is, life isn'tmuchafit foreitherofus,"Winsetthadoncesaid."I'm down and out; nothing to be done about it. I've got only one ware toproduce,andthere'snomarketforithere,andwon'tbeinmytime.Butyou'refreeandyou'rewell-off.Whydon'tyougetintotouch?There'sonlyonewaytodoit:togointopolitics."

Archer threw his head back and laughed. There one saw at a flash the

unbridgeable difference betweenmen likeWinsett and the others—Archer'skind.Everyoneinpolitecirclesknewthat,inAmerica,"agentlemancouldn'tgointopolitics."But,sincehecouldhardlyput it in thatwaytoWinsett,heanswered evasively: "Look at the career of the honest man in Americanpolitics!Theydon'twantus."

"Who's'they'?Whydon'tyouallgettogetherandbe'they'yourselves?"

Archer's laugh lingered on his lips in a slightly condescending smile. Itwasuselesstoprolongthediscussion:everybodyknewthemelancholyfateofthe few gentlemen who had risked their clean linen in municipal or statepoliticsinNewYork.Thedaywaspastwhenthatsortofthingwaspossible:the country was in possession of the bosses and the emigrant, and decentpeoplehadtofallbackonsportorculture.

"Culture!Yes—ifwehad it!But there are just a few little localpatches,dying out here and there for lack of—well, hoeing and cross-fertilising: thelast remnantsof theoldEuropean tradition thatyour forebearsbroughtwiththem. But you're in a pitiful little minority: you've got no centre, nocompetition,noaudience.You're like thepictureson thewallsofadesertedhouse:'ThePortraitofaGentleman.'You'llneveramounttoanything,anyofyou, tillyourollupyoursleevesandgetrightdowninto themuck.That,oremigrate...God!IfIcouldemigrate..."

Archermentallyshruggedhisshouldersandturnedtheconversationbacktobooks,whereWinsett,ifuncertain,wasalwaysinteresting.Emigrate!Asifagentlemancouldabandonhisowncountry!Onecouldnomoredothatthanone could roll up one's sleeves and go down into the muck. A gentlemansimply stayed at home and abstained. But you couldn't make a man likeWinsettseethat;andthatwaswhytheNewYorkofliteraryclubsandexoticrestaurants,thoughafirstshakemadeitseemmoreofakaleidoscope,turnedout,intheend,tobeasmallerbox,withamoremonotonouspattern,thantheassembledatomsofFifthAvenue.

*

ThenextmorningArcherscouredthetowninvainformoreyellowroses.Inconsequenceof thissearchhearrived lateat theoffice,perceived thathisdoingsomadenodifferencewhatevertoanyone,andwasfilledwithsuddenexasperationattheelaboratefutilityofhislife.Whyshouldhenotbe,atthatmoment, on the sands of St. Augustine with May Welland? No one wasdeceivedbyhispretenseofprofessionalactivity.Inold-fashionedlegalfirmslike that of which Mr. Letterblair was the head, and which were mainlyengaged in themanagementof large estates and "conservative" investments,there were always two or three young men, fairly well-off, and withoutprofessionalambition,who,foracertainnumberofhoursofeachday,satat

their desks accomplishing trivial tasks, or simply reading the newspapers.Though it was supposed to be proper for them to have an occupation, thecrude fact of money-making was still regarded as derogatory, and the law,beingaprofession,wasaccountedamoregentlemanlypursuitthanbusiness.But none of these young men had much hope of really advancing in hisprofession,oranyearnestdesire todoso;andovermanyof them thegreenmouldoftheperfunctorywasalreadyperceptiblyspreading.

ItmadeArchershivertothinkthatitmightbespreadingoverhimtoo.Hehad,tobesure,othertastesandinterests;hespenthisvacationsinEuropeantravel, cultivated the "clever people" May spoke of, and generally tried to"keepup,"ashehadsomewhatwistfullyputittoMadameOlenska.Butoncehewasmarried,whatwouldbecomeofthisnarrowmarginoflifeinwhichhisrealexperienceswerelived?Hehadseenenoughofotheryoungmenwhohaddreamedhisdream,thoughperhapslessardently,andwhohadgraduallysunkintotheplacidandluxuriousroutineoftheirelders.

FromtheofficehesentanotebymessengertoMadameOlenska,askingifhemightcallthatafternoon,andbegginghertolethimfindareplyathisclub;butat theclubhe foundnothing,nordidhe receiveany letter the followingday. This unexpected silence mortified him beyond reason, and though thenext morning he saw a glorious cluster of yellow roses behind a florist'swindow-pane,heleftitthere.Itwasonlyonthethirdmorningthathereceiveda linebypost from theCountessOlenska.Tohis surprise itwasdated fromSkuytercliff,whitherthevanderLuydenshadpromptlyretreatedafterputtingtheDukeonboardhissteamer.

"I ranaway," thewriterbeganabruptly (without theusualpreliminaries),"thedayafterIsawyouattheplay,andthesekindfriendshavetakenmein.Iwanted tobequiet, and think thingsover.Youwere right in tellingmehowkindtheywere;Ifeelmyselfsosafehere.Iwishthatyouwerewithus."Sheendedwithaconventional"Yourssincerely,"andwithoutanyallusionto thedateofherreturn.

Thetoneofthenotesurprisedtheyoungman.WhatwasMadameOlenskarunningawayfrom,andwhydidshefeeltheneedtobesafe?Hisfirstthoughtwasofsomedarkmenacefromabroad;thenhereflectedthathedidnotknowherepistolarystyle,andthatitmightruntopicturesqueexaggeration.Womenalwaysexaggerated;andmoreovershewasnotwhollyathereaseinEnglish,whichsheoftenspokeasifsheweretranslatingfromtheFrench."Jemesuisevadee—"put in thatway, theopening sentence immediately suggested thatshemightmerelyhavewantedtoescapefromaboringroundofengagements;which was very likely true, for he judged her to be capricious, and easilyweariedofthepleasureofthemoment.

It amusedhim to thinkof thevanderLuydens'havingcarriedheroff toSkuytercliffonasecondvisit,andthistimeforanindefiniteperiod.Thedoorsof Skuytercliff were rarely and grudgingly opened to visitors, and a chillyweek-endwasthemosteverofferedtothefewthusprivileged.ButArcherhadseen,onhislastvisittoParis,thedeliciousplayofLabiche,"LeVoyagedeM.Perrichon," and he remembered M. Perrichon's dogged and undiscouragedattachmenttotheyoungmanwhomhehadpulledoutoftheglacier.ThevanderLuydenshad rescuedMadameOlenska fromadoomalmost as icy; andthoughthereweremanyotherreasonsforbeingattractedtoher,Archerknewthat beneath them all lay the gentle and obstinate determination to go onrescuingher.

He felt a distinct disappointment on learning that she was away; andalmostimmediatelyrememberedthat,onlythedaybefore,hehadrefusedaninvitation to spend the followingSundaywith theReggieChiverses at theirhouseontheHudson,afewmilesbelowSkuytercliff.

HehadhadhisfilllongagoofthenoisyfriendlypartiesatHighbank,withcoasting,ice-boating,sleighing,longtrampsinthesnow,andageneralflavourofmildflirtingandmilderpracticaljokes.HehadjustreceivedaboxofnewbooksfromhisLondonbook-seller,andhadpreferredtheprospectofaquietSundayathomewithhisspoils.Buthenowwentintotheclubwriting-room,wroteahurriedtelegram,andtoldtheservanttosenditimmediately.HeknewthatMrs.Reggiedidn'tobject tohervisitors'suddenlychangingtheirminds,andthattherewasalwaysaroomtospareinherelastichouse.

XV.

Newland Archer arrived at the Chiverses' on Friday evening, and onSaturdaywentconscientiouslythroughalltheritesappertainingtoaweek-endatHighbank.

Inthemorninghehadaspinintheice-boatwithhishostessandafewofthehardierguests;intheafternoonhe"wentoverthefarm"withReggie,andlistened, in the elaborately appointed stables, to long and impressivedisquisitionsonthehorse;afterteahetalkedinacornerofthefirelithallwithayoungladywhohadprofessedherselfbroken-heartedwhenhisengagementwasannounced,butwasnoweagertotellhimofherownmatrimonialhopes;andfinally,aboutmidnight,heassisted inputtingagold-fish inonevisitor'sbed,dressedupaburglarinthebath-roomofanervousaunt,andsawinthesmallhoursbyjoininginapillow-fightthatrangedfromthenurseriestothebasement.ButonSundayafterluncheonheborrowedacutter,anddroveover

toSkuytercliff.

Peoplehadalwaysbeen told that thehouseatSkuytercliffwasanItalianvilla.ThosewhohadneverbeentoItalybelievedit;sodidsomewhohad.ThehousehadbeenbuiltbyMr.vanderLuydeninhisyouth,onhisreturnfromthe "grand tour," and in anticipation of his approachingmarriagewithMissLouisa Dagonet. It was a large square wooden structure, with tongued andgroovedwallspaintedpalegreenandwhite,aCorinthianportico,andflutedpilasters between the windows. From the high ground on which it stood aseries of terraces bordered by balustrades and urns descended in the steel-engravingstyletoasmallirregularlakewithanasphaltedgeoverhungbyrareweeping conifers. To the right and left, the famousweedless lawns studdedwith"specimen"trees(eachofadifferentvariety)rolledawaytolongrangesofgrasscrestedwithelaboratecast-ironornaments;andbelow,inahollow,laythe four-roomed stone house which the first Patroon had built on the landgrantedhimin1612.

Against theuniformsheetof snowand thegreyishwinter sky the Italianvilla loomed up rather grimly; even in summer it kept its distance, and theboldest coleusbedhadnever venturednearer than thirty feet from its awfulfront.Now,asArcherrangthebell,thelongtinkleseemedtoechothroughamausoleum;andthesurpriseofthebutlerwhoatlengthrespondedtothecallwasasgreatasthoughhehadbeensummonedfromhisfinalsleep.

Happily Archer was of the family, and therefore, irregular though hisarrivalwas,entitledtobeinformedthattheCountessOlenskawasout,havingdriventoafternoonservicewithMrs.vanderLuydenexactlythreequartersofanhourearlier.

"Mr.vanderLuyden,"thebutlercontinued,"isin,sir;butmyimpressionisthatheiseitherfinishinghisnaporelsereadingyesterday'sEveningPost.Iheardhimsay,sir,onhisreturnfromchurchthismorning,thatheintendedtolookthroughtheEveningPostafterluncheon;ifyoulike,sir,Imightgotothelibrarydoorandlisten—"

ButArcher,thankinghim,saidthathewouldgoandmeettheladies;andthebutler,obviouslyrelieved,closedthedooronhimmajestically.

Agroomtookthecuttertothestables,andArcherstruckthroughtheparktothehigh-road.ThevillageofSkuytercliffwasonlyamileandahalfaway,butheknewthatMrs.vanderLuydenneverwalked,andthathemustkeeptothe road tomeet the carriage. Presently, however, coming down a foot-paththatcrossedthehighway,hecaughtsightofaslightfigureinaredcloak,withabigdogrunningahead.Hehurriedforward,andMadameOlenskastoppedshortwithasmileofwelcome.

"Ah,you'vecome!"shesaid,anddrewherhandfromhermuff.

Theredcloakmadeherlookgayandvivid,liketheEllenMingottofolddays;andhelaughedashetookherhand,andanswered:"Icametoseewhatyouwererunningawayfrom."

Her face clouded over, but she answered: "Ah, well—you will see,presently."

The answer puzzled him. "Why—do you mean that you've beenovertaken?"

She shrugged her shoulders, with a little movement like Nastasia's, andrejoined in a lighter tone: "Shallwewalk on? I'm so cold after the sermon.Andwhatdoesitmatter,nowyou'reheretoprotectme?"

Thebloodrosetohistemplesandhecaughtafoldofhercloak."Ellen—whatisit?Youmusttellme."

"Oh,presently—let'srunaracefirst:myfeetarefreezingtotheground,"shecried;andgatheringupthecloakshefledawayacrossthesnow,thedogleaping about her with challenging barks. For a moment Archer stoodwatching,hisgazedelightedbytheflashoftheredmeteoragainstthesnow;thenhestartedafterher,andtheymet,pantingandlaughing,atawicketthatledintothepark.

Shelookedupathimandsmiled."Iknewyou'dcome!"

"Thatshowsyouwantedmeto,"hereturned,withadisproportionatejoyintheir nonsense. The white glitter of the trees filled the air with its ownmysterious brightness, and as they walked on over the snow the groundseemedtosingundertheirfeet.

"Wheredidyoucomefrom?"MadameOlenskaasked.

Hetoldher,andadded:"ItwasbecauseIgotyournote."

After a pause she said, with a just perceptible chill in her voice: "Mayaskedyoutotakecareofme."

"Ididn'tneedanyasking."

"Youmean—I'msoevidentlyhelplessanddefenceless?Whatapoorthingyoumust all thinkme! But women here seem not—seem never to feel theneed:anymorethantheblessedinheaven."

Heloweredhisvoicetoask:"Whatsortofaneed?"

"Ah,don'taskme!Idon'tspeakyourlanguage,"sheretortedpetulantly.

Theanswersmotehimlikeablow,andhestoodstill inthepath,looking

downather.

"WhatdidIcomefor,ifIdon'tspeakyours?"

"Oh,myfriend—!"She laidherhand lightlyonhisarm,andhepleadedearnestly:"Ellen—whywon'tyoutellmewhat'shappened?"

Sheshruggedagain."Doesanythingeverhappeninheaven?"

Hewassilent,andtheywalkedonafewyardswithoutexchangingaword.Finallyshesaid:"Iwilltellyou—butwhere,where,where?Onecan'tbealoneforaminuteinthatgreatseminaryofahouse,withall thedoorswideopen,andalwaysaservantbringing tea,ora logfor thefire,or thenewspaper! IstherenowhereinanAmericanhousewhereonemaybebyone'sself?You'resoshy,andyetyou'resopublic.IalwaysfeelasifIwereintheconventagain—oronthestage,beforeadreadfullypoliteaudiencethatneverapplauds."

"Ah,youdon'tlikeus!"Archerexclaimed.

TheywerewalkingpastthehouseoftheoldPatroon,withitssquatwallsand small squarewindows compactly grouped about a central chimney.Theshutters stoodwide, and through one of the newly-washedwindowsArchercaughtthelightofafire.

"Why—thehouseisopen!"hesaid.

Shestoodstill."No;onlyfortoday,atleast.Iwantedtoseeit,andMr.vanderLuyden had the fire lit and thewindows opened, so thatwemight stopthereon thewayback fromchurch thismorning."She ranup the steps andtried the door. "It's still unlocked—what luck! Come in andwe can have aquiet talk. Mrs. van der Luyden has driven over to see her old aunts atRhinebeckandweshan'tbemissedatthehouseforanotherhour."

Hefollowedherintothenarrowpassage.Hisspirits,whichhaddroppedather last words, rose with an irrational leap. The homely little house stoodthere,itspanelsandbrassesshininginthefirelight,asifmagicallycreatedtoreceivethem.Abigbedofembersstillgleamedinthekitchenchimney,underanironpothungfromanancientcrane.Rush-bottomedarm-chairsfacedeachotheracrossthetiledhearth,androwsofDelftplatesstoodonshelvesagainstthewalls.Archerstoopedoverandthrewalogupontheembers.

Madame Olenska, dropping her cloak, sat down in one of the chairs.Archerleanedagainstthechimneyandlookedather.

"You're laughing now; but when you wrote me you were unhappy," hesaid.

"Yes."Shepaused."ButIcan'tfeelunhappywhenyou'rehere."

"Isha'n'tbeherelong,"herejoined,hislipsstiffeningwiththeefforttosay

justsomuchandnomore.

"No;Iknow.ButI'mimprovident:IliveinthemomentwhenI'mhappy."

Thewordsstolethroughhimlikeatemptation,andtoclosehissensestoithemovedawayfromthehearthandstoodgazingoutat theblack tree-bolesagainstthesnow.Butitwasasifshetoohadshiftedherplace,andhestillsawher, between himself and the trees, drooping over the firewith her indolentsmile.Archer's heartwas beating insubordinately.What if itwere fromhimthatshehadbeenrunningaway,andifshehadwaitedtotellhimsotilltheywereherealonetogetherinthissecretroom?

"Ellen,ifI'mreallyahelptoyou—ifyoureallywantedmetocome—tellmewhat'swrong,tellmewhatitisyou'rerunningawayfrom,"heinsisted.

Hespokewithoutshiftinghisposition,withouteventurningtolookather:ifthethingwastohappen,itwastohappeninthisway,withthewholewidthoftheroombetweenthem,andhiseyesstillfixedontheoutersnow.

For a longmoment shewas silent; and in thatmomentArcher imaginedher,almostheardher,stealingupbehindhimtothrowherlightarmsabouthisneck.Whilehewaited,soulandbodythrobbingwiththemiracletocome,hiseyesmechanically received the image of a heavily-coatedmanwith his furcollarturnedupwhowasadvancingalongthepathtothehouse.ThemanwasJuliusBeaufort.

"Ah—!"Archercried,burstingintoalaugh.

MadameOlenskahadsprungupandmovedtohisside,slippingherhandintohis;butafteraglancethroughthewindowherfacepaledandsheshrankback.

"Sothatwasit?"Archersaidderisively.

"Ididn'tknowhewashere,"MadameOlenskamurmured.Herhandstillclung to Archer's; but he drew away from her, and walking out into thepassagethrewopenthedoorofthehouse.

"Hallo, Beaufort—this way! Madame Olenska was expecting you," hesaid.

*

During his journey back to NewYork the nextmorning, Archer relivedwithafatiguingvividnesshislastmomentsatSkuytercliff.

Beaufort, though clearly annoyed at finding himwithMadameOlenska,had, as usual, carried off the situation high-handedly. His way of ignoringpeoplewhosepresence inconveniencedhimactuallygave them, if theyweresensitive to it, a feeling of invisibility, of nonexistence.Archer, as the three

strolledbackthroughthepark,wasawareofthisoddsenseofdisembodiment;and humbling as it was to his vanity it gave him the ghostly advantage ofobservingunobserved.

Beauforthadenteredthelittlehousewithhisusualeasyassurance;buthecouldnotsmileawaytheverticallinebetweenhiseyes.ItwasfairlyclearthatMadameOlenska had not known that hewas coming, though herwords toArcherhadhintedatthepossibility;atanyrate,shehadevidentlynottoldhimwhereshewasgoingwhensheleftNewYork,andherunexplaineddeparturehad exasperated him. The ostensible reason of his appearance was thediscovery,theverynightbefore,ofa"perfectlittlehouse,"notinthemarket,whichwasreally just the thingforher,butwouldbesnappedup instantly ifshedidn'ttakeit;andhewasloudinmock-reproachesforthedanceshehadledhiminrunningawayjustashehadfoundit.

"IfonlythisnewdodgefortalkingalongawirehadbeenalittlebitnearerperfectionImighthavetoldyouallthisfromtown,andbeentoastingmytoesbefore theclubfireat thisminute, insteadof trampingafteryou through thesnow,"hegrumbled,disguisingarealirritationunderthepretenceofit;andatthisopeningMadameOlenskatwistedthetalkawaytothefantasticpossibilitythattheymightonedayactuallyconversewitheachotherfromstreettostreet,oreven—incredibledream!—fromone towntoanother.ThisstruckfromallthreeallusionstoEdgarPoeandJulesVerne,andsuchplatitudesasnaturallyrisetothelipsofthemostintelligentwhentheyaretalkingagainsttime,anddealingwithanewinventioninwhichitwouldseemingenuoustobelievetoosoon; and the question of the telephone carried them safely back to the bighouse.

Mrs.vanderLuydenhadnotyetreturned;andArchertookhisleaveandwalkedofftofetchthecutter,whileBeaufortfollowedtheCountessOlenskaindoors. It was probable that, little as the van der Luydens encouragedunannouncedvisits,hecouldcountonbeingasked todine,andsentback tothe station to catch the nine o'clock train; but more than that he wouldcertainlynotget, for itwouldbe inconceivable tohishosts thatagentlemantravellingwithout luggage shouldwish to spend thenight, anddistasteful tothemtoproposeittoapersonwithwhomtheywereontermsofsuchlimitedcordialityasBeaufort.

Beaufortknewallthis,andmusthaveforeseenit;andhistakingthelongjourney for so small a reward gave themeasure of his impatience. Hewasundeniably in pursuit of the Countess Olenska; and Beaufort had only oneobjectinviewinhispursuitofprettywomen.Hisdullandchildlesshomehadlongsincepalledonhim;andinadditiontomorepermanentconsolationshewasalwaysinquestofamorousadventuresinhisownset.ThiswasthemanfromwhomMadameOlenskawasavowedlyflying:thequestionwaswhether

shehadfledbecausehisimportunitiesdispleasedher,orbecauseshedidnotwholly trust herself to resist them; unless, indeed, all her talk of flight hadbeenablind,andherdeparturenomorethanamanoeuvre.

Archerdidnotreallybelievethis.LittleashehadactuallyseenofMadameOlenska,hewasbeginningtothinkthathecouldreadherface,andifnotherface, her voice; and both had betrayed annoyance, and even dismay, atBeaufort's suddenappearance.But,afterall, if thiswere thecase,was itnotworsethanifshehadleftNewYorkfortheexpresspurposeofmeetinghim?Ifshehaddonethat,sheceasedtobeanobjectofinterest,shethrewinherlotwith the vulgarest of dissemblers: a woman engaged in a love affair withBeaufort"classed"herselfirretrievably.

No, it was worse a thousand times if, judging Beaufort, and probablydespisinghim, shewasyetdrawn tohimbyall thatgavehimanadvantageovertheothermenabouther:hishabitoftwocontinentsandtwosocieties,hisfamiliarassociationwithartistsandactorsandpeoplegenerallyintheworld'seye, and his careless contempt for local prejudices.Beaufortwas vulgar, hewasuneducated,hewaspurse-proud;butthecircumstancesofhislife,andacertainnativeshrewdness,madehimbetterworthtalkingto thanmanymen,morally and sociallyhisbetters,whosehorizonwasboundedby theBatteryandtheCentralPark.Howshouldanyonecomingfromawiderworldnotfeelthedifferenceandbeattractedbyit?

MadameOlenska,inaburstofirritation,hadsaidtoArcherthatheandshedidnottalkthesamelanguage;andtheyoungmanknewthatinsomerespectsthiswastrue.ButBeaufortunderstoodeveryturnofherdialect,andspokeitfluently:hisviewoflife,histone,hisattitude,weremerelyacoarserreflectionof those revealed in Count Olenski's letter. This might seem to be to hisdisadvantage with Count Olenski's wife; but Archer was too intelligent tothink that a youngwoman likeEllenOlenskawouldnecessarily recoil fromeverythingthatremindedherofherpast.Shemightbelieveherselfwhollyinrevoltagainst it;butwhathadcharmedher in itwouldstill charmher,eventhoughitwereagainstherwill.

Thus,withapainfulimpartiality,didtheyoungmanmakeoutthecaseforBeaufort,andforBeaufort'svictim.Alongingtoenlightenherwasstronginhim;andthereweremomentswhenheimaginedthatallsheaskedwastobeenlightened.

That evening he unpacked his books fromLondon. The boxwas full ofthingshehadbeenwaitingforimpatiently;anewvolumeofHerbertSpencer,anothercollectionoftheprolificAlphonseDaudet'sbrillianttales,andanovelcalled"Middlemarch,"astowhichtherehadlatelybeeninterestingthingssaidinthereviews.Hehaddeclinedthreedinnerinvitationsinfavourofthisfeast;

butthoughheturnedthepageswiththesensuousjoyofthebook-lover,hedidnotknowwhathewasreading,andonebookafteranotherdroppedfromhishand.Suddenly,amongthem,helitonasmallvolumeofversewhichhehadorderedbecausethenamehadattractedhim:"TheHouseofLife."Hetookitup, and found himself plunged in an atmosphere unlike any he had everbreathedinbooks;sowarm,sorich,andyetsoineffablytender,thatitgaveanew and haunting beauty to the most elementary of human passions. Allthrough the night he pursued through those enchanted pages the vision of awoman who had the face of Ellen Olenska; but when he woke the nextmorning, and looked out at the brownstone houses across the street, andthought of his desk inMr. Letterblair's office, and the family pew inGraceChurch,hishourintheparkofSkuytercliffbecameasfaroutsidethepaleofprobabilityasthevisionsofthenight.

"Mercy,howpaleyoulook,Newland!"Janeycommentedoverthecoffee-cups at breakfast; andhismother added: "Newland, dear, I've noticed latelythat you've been coughing; I do hope you're not letting yourself beoverworked?" For it was the conviction of both ladies that, under the irondespotismofhis seniorpartners, theyoungman's lifewasspent in themostexhausting professional labours—and he had never thought it necessary toundeceivethem.

Thenexttwoorthreedaysdraggedbyheavily.Thetasteoftheusualwaslikecindersinhismouth,andthereweremomentswhenhefeltasifhewerebeingburiedaliveunderhisfuture.HeheardnothingoftheCountessOlenska,or of the perfect little house, and though he met Beaufort at the club theymerelynoddedateachotheracrossthewhist-tables.Itwasnottillthefourthevening that he found a note awaiting him on his return home. "Come latetomorrow: I must explain to you. Ellen." These were the only words itcontained.

The young man, who was dining out, thrust the note into his pocket,smiling a little at theFrenchness of the "to you."After dinner hewent to aplay; and it was not until his return home, after midnight, that he drewMadameOlenska'smissiveoutagainandre-readitslowlyanumberoftimes.Therewereseveralwaysofansweringit,andhegaveconsiderablethoughttoeach one during the watches of an agitated night. That on which, whenmorning came, he finally decided was to pitch some clothes into aportmanteauandjumponboardaboatthatwasleavingthatveryafternoonforSt.Augustine.

XVI.

WhenArcherwalkeddownthesandymainstreetofSt.Augustine to thehouse which had been pointed out to him as Mr.Welland's, and sawMayWellandstandingunderamagnoliawiththesuninherhair,hewonderedwhyhehadwaitedsolongtocome.

Herewasthetruth,herewasreality,herewasthelifethatbelongedtohim;andhe,whofanciedhimselfsoscornfulofarbitraryrestraints,hadbeenafraidto break away from his desk because of what people might think of hisstealingaholiday!

Her first exclamation was: "Newland—has anything happened?" and itoccurredtohimthatitwouldhavebeenmore"feminine"ifshehadinstantlyread inhis eyeswhyhehadcome.Butwhenheanswered: "Yes—I found Ihadtoseeyou,"herhappyblushestookthechillfromhersurprise,andhesawhoweasily hewould be forgiven, and how soon evenMr.Letterblair'smilddisapprovalwouldbesmiledawaybyatolerantfamily.

Earlyasitwas,themainstreetwasnoplaceforanybutformalgreetings,andArcherlongedtobealonewithMay,andtopouroutallhistendernessandhisimpatience.Itstill lackedanhourtothelateWellandbreakfast-time,andinsteadofaskinghimtocomeinsheproposedthattheyshouldwalkouttoanoldorange-gardenbeyondthetown.Shehadjustbeenforarowontheriver,andthesunthatnettedthelittlewaveswithgoldseemedtohavecaughtherinitsmeshes.Acrossthewarmbrownofhercheekherblownhairglitteredlikesilver wire; and her eyes too looked lighter, almost pale in their youthfullimpidity.AsshewalkedbesideArcherwithher longswinginggaitherfaceworethevacantserenityofayoungmarbleathlete.

ToArcher'sstrainednerves thevisionwasassoothingas thesightof theblueskyandthelazyriver.Theysatdownonabenchundertheorange-treesand he put his arm about her and kissed her. Itwas like drinking at a coldspringwiththesunonit;buthispressuremayhavebeenmorevehementthanhehadintended,forthebloodrosetoherfaceandshedrewbackasifhehadstartledher.

"Whatis it?"heasked,smiling;andshelookedathimwithsurprise,andanswered:"Nothing."

A slight embarrassment fell on them, and her hand slipped out of his. Itwas theonly timethathehadkissedheron the lipsexceptfor their fugitiveembraceintheBeaufortconservatory,andhesawthatshewasdisturbed,andshakenoutofhercoolboyishcomposure.

"Tellmewhatyoudoallday,"hesaid,crossinghisarmsunderhistilted-backhead,andpushinghishatforwardtoscreenthesun-dazzle.Tolethertalk

aboutfamiliarandsimple thingswas theeasiestwayofcarryingonhisownindependent train of thought; andhe sat listening to her simple chronicle ofswimming,sailingandriding,variedbyanoccasionaldanceat theprimitiveinnwhenaman-of-warcamein.AfewpleasantpeoplefromPhiladelphiaandBaltimore were picknicking at the inn, and the SelfridgeMerrys had comedown for three weeks because Kate Merry had had bronchitis. They wereplanningtolayoutalawntenniscourtonthesands;butnoonebutKateandMayhadracquets,andmostofthepeoplehadnotevenheardofthegame.

Allthiskeptherverybusy,andshehadnothadtimetodomorethanlookat the little vellum book that Archer had sent her the week before (the"Sonnets from the Portuguese"); but she was learning by heart "How theybrought theGoodNews fromGhent toAix,"because itwasoneof the firstthingshehadever read toher; and it amusedher tobeable to tellhim thatKateMerryhadneverevenheardofapoetcalledRobertBrowning.

Presentlyshestartedup,exclaimingthattheywouldbelateforbreakfast;andtheyhurriedbacktothetumble-downhousewithitspointlessporchandunpruned hedge of plumbago and pink geraniumswhere theWellandswereinstalled for thewinter.Mr.Welland's sensitivedomesticity shrank from thediscomforts of the slovenly southern hotel, and at immense expense, and infaceof almost insuperabledifficulties,Mrs.Wellandwasobliged,year afteryear,toimproviseanestablishmentpartlymadeupofdiscontentedNewYorkservantsandpartlydrawnfromthelocalAfricansupply.

"The doctors want my husband to feel that he is in his own home;otherwise hewould be sowretched that the climatewould not do him anygood,"sheexplained,winterafterwinter, to thesympathisingPhiladelphiansand Baltimoreans; and Mr. Welland, beaming across a breakfast tablemiraculouslysuppliedwiththemostvarieddelicacies,waspresentlysayingtoArcher:"Yousee,mydearfellow,wecamp—weliterallycamp.ItellmywifeandMaythatIwanttoteachthemhowtoroughit."

Mr.andMrs.Wellandhadbeenasmuchsurprisedastheirdaughterbytheyoungman'ssuddenarrival;butithadoccurredtohimtoexplainthathehadfelthimselfonthevergeofanastycold,andthisseemedtoMr.Wellandanall-sufficientreasonforabandoninganyduty.

"Youcan'tbe toocareful, especially toward spring,"he said,heapinghisplatewith straw-colouredgriddle-cakesanddrowning them ingoldensyrup."IfI'donlybeenasprudentatyourageMaywouldhavebeendancingattheAssembliesnow,insteadofspendingherwintersinawildernesswithanoldinvalid."

"Oh,butIloveithere,Papa;youknowIdo.IfonlyNewlandcouldstayIshouldlikeitathousandtimesbetterthanNewYork."

"Newland must stay till he has quite thrown off his cold," said Mrs.Wellandindulgently;andtheyoungmanlaughed,andsaidhesupposedtherewassuchathingasone'sprofession.

Hemanaged, however, after an exchange of telegramswith the firm, tomakehiscoldlastaweek;anditshedanironiclightonthesituationtoknowthat Mr. Letterblair's indulgence was partly due to the satisfactory way inwhichhisbrilliantyoungjuniorpartnerhadsettledthetroublesomematterofthe Olenski divorce. Mr. Letterblair had let Mrs. Welland know that Mr.Archerhad"renderedaninvaluableservice"tothewholefamily,andthatoldMrs.MansonMingotthadbeenparticularlypleased;andonedaywhenMayhad gone for a drivewith her father in the only vehicle the place producedMrs.Wellandtookoccasiontotouchonatopicwhichshealwaysavoidedinherdaughter'spresence.

"I'mafraidEllen's ideas arenot at all likeours.Shewasbarely eighteenwhen Medora Manson took her back to Europe—you remember theexcitement when she appeared in black at her coming-out ball? Another ofMedora'sfads—reallythistimeitwasalmostprophetic!Thatmusthavebeenatleasttwelveyearsago;andsincethenEllenhasneverbeentoAmerica.NowondersheiscompletelyEuropeanised."

"ButEuropeansociety isnotgiventodivorce:CountessOlenska thoughtshewouldbeconformingtoAmericanideasinaskingforherfreedom."ItwasthefirsttimethattheyoungmanhadpronouncedhernamesincehehadleftSkuytercliff,andhefeltthecolourrisetohischeek.

Mrs.Wellandsmiledcompassionately."That is just liketheextraordinarythingsthatforeignersinventaboutus.Theythinkwedineattwoo'clockandcountenancedivorce!ThatiswhyitseemstomesofoolishtoentertainthemwhentheycometoNewYork.Theyacceptourhospitality,andthentheygohomeandrepeatthesamestupidstories."

Archermadenocommenton this, andMrs.Wellandcontinued: "ButwedomostthoroughlyappreciateyourpersuadingEllentogiveuptheidea.Hergrandmother and her uncle Lovell could do nothingwith her; both of themhavewrittenthatherchanginghermindwasentirelyduetoyourinfluence—infactshesaidsotohergrandmother.Shehasanunboundedadmirationforyou. Poor Ellen—shewas always awayward child. Iwonderwhat her fatewillbe?"

"Whatwe'veallcontrivedtomakeit,"hefeltlikeanswering."Ifyou'dallofyourathersheshouldbeBeaufort'smistressthansomedecentfellow'swifeyou'vecertainlygonetherightwayaboutit."

Hewondered whatMrs.Wellandwould have said if he had uttered the

words instead of merely thinking them. He could picture the suddendecomposure of her firm placid features, to which a lifelong mastery overtrifleshadgivenanairoffactitiousauthority.Tracesstilllingeredonthemofafresh beauty like her daughter's; and he asked himself if May's face wasdoomedtothickenintothesamemiddle-agedimageofinvincibleinnocence.

Ah,no,hedidnotwantMaytohavethatkindofinnocence,theinnocencethatsealsthemindagainstimaginationandtheheartagainstexperience!

"I verily believe,"Mrs.Welland continued, "that if the horrible businesshadcomeoutinthenewspapersitwouldhavebeenmyhusband'sdeath-blow.Idon'tknowanyofthedetails;Ionlyasknotto,asItoldpoorEllenwhenshetriedto talktomeabout it.Havinganinvalid tocarefor,Ihavetokeepmymindbright and happy.ButMr.Wellandwas terribly upset; he had a slighttemperature every morning while we were waiting to hear what had beendecided.Itwasthehorrorofhisgirl'slearningthatsuchthingswerepossible—butofcourse,dearNewland,youfelt that too.WeallknewthatyouwerethinkingofMay."

"I'malwaysthinkingofMay,"theyoungmanrejoined,risingtocutshorttheconversation.

HehadmeanttoseizetheopportunityofhisprivatetalkwithMrs.Wellandto urge her to advance the date of his marriage. But he could think of noargumentsthatwouldmoveher,andwithasenseofreliefhesawMr.WellandandMaydrivinguptothedoor.

His only hope was to plead again withMay, and on the day before hisdeparture hewalkedwithher to the ruinousgardenof theSpanishMission.ThebackgroundlentitselftoallusionstoEuropeanscenes;andMay,whowaslookingherloveliestunderawide-brimmedhatthatcastashadowofmysteryoverhertoo-cleareyes,kindledintoeagernessashespokeofGranadaandtheAlhambra.

"We might be seeing it all this spring—even the Easter ceremonies atSeville," he urged, exaggerating his demands in the hope of a largerconcession.

"EasterinSeville?AnditwillbeLentnextweek!"shelaughed.

"Why shouldn't we bemarried in Lent?" he rejoined; but she looked soshockedthathesawhismistake.

"Of course I didn'tmean that, dearest; but soonafterEaster—so thatwecouldsailattheendofApril.IknowIcouldarrangeitattheoffice."

Shesmileddreamilyuponthepossibility;butheperceivedthattodreamofitsufficedher.Itwaslikehearinghimreadaloudoutofhispoetrybooksthe

beautifulthingsthatcouldnotpossiblyhappeninreallife.

"Oh,dogoon,Newland;Idoloveyourdescriptions."

"Butwhyshouldtheybeonlydescriptions?Whyshouldn'twemakethemreal?"

"Weshall,dearest,ofcourse;nextyear."Hervoicelingeredoverit.

"Don't youwant them to be real sooner? Can't I persuade you to breakawaynow?"

Shebowedherhead,vanishingfromhimunderherconnivinghat-brim.

"Whyshouldwedreamawayanotheryear?Lookatme,dear!Don'tyouunderstandhowIwantyouformywife?"

For amoment she remainedmotionless; then she raised on him eyes ofsuch despairing dearness that he half-released her waist from his hold. Butsuddenly her look changed and deepened inscrutably. "I'm not sure if IDOunderstand,"shesaid."Isit—isitbecauseyou'renotcertainofcontinuingtocareforme?"

Archer sprang up from his seat. "MyGod—perhaps—I don't know," hebrokeoutangrily.

MayWelland rose also; as they faced each other she seemed to grow inwomanlystatureanddignity.Bothweresilentforamoment,asifdismayedbytheunforeseentrendoftheirwords:thenshesaidinalowvoice:"Ifthatisit—istheresomeoneelse?"

"Someoneelse—betweenyouandme?"Heechoedherwordsslowly,asthough they were only half-intelligible and he wanted time to repeat thequestiontohimself.Sheseemedtocatchtheuncertaintyofhisvoice,forshewenton inadeepening tone: "Letus talk frankly,Newland.Sometimes I'vefeltadifferenceinyou;especiallysinceourengagementhasbeenannounced."

"Dear—whatmadness!"herecoveredhimselftoexclaim.

Shemethisprotestwithafaintsmile."Ifitis,itwon'thurtustotalkaboutit."Shepaused,andadded,liftingherheadwithoneofhernoblemovements:"Orevenifit'strue:whyshouldn'twespeakofit?Youmightsoeasilyhavemadeamistake."

Heloweredhishead,staringattheblackleaf-patternonthesunnypathattheir feet. "Mistakes are always easy tomake; but if I hadmadeoneof thekind you suggest, is it likely that I should be imploring you to hasten ourmarriage?"

She looked downward too, disturbing the pattern with the point of her

sunshadewhile she struggled for expression. "Yes," she saidat length. "Youmightwant—onceforall—tosettlethequestion:it'soneway."

Herquiet luciditystartledhim,butdidnotmisleadhiminto thinkingherinsensible.Under her hat-brimhe saw the pallor of her profile, and a slighttremorofthenostrilaboveherresolutelysteadiedlips.

"Well—?"hequestioned,sittingdownonthebench,andlookingupatherwithafrownthathetriedtomakeplayful.

Shedroppedbackintoherseatandwenton:"Youmustn'tthinkthatagirlknows as little as her parents imagine.Onehears andone notices—onehasone's feelings and ideas. And of course, long before you told me that youcaredforme,I'dknownthattherewassomeoneelseyouwereinterestedin;everyonewastalkingaboutittwoyearsagoatNewport.AndonceIsawyousittingtogetherontheverandahatadance—andwhenshecamebackintothehouse her facewas sad, and I felt sorry for her; I remembered it afterward,whenwewereengaged."

Her voice had sunk almost to a whisper, and she sat clasping andunclaspingherhandsabout thehandleofhersunshade.Theyoungman laidhisupon themwithagentlepressure;hisheartdilatedwithan inexpressiblerelief.

"Mydearchild—wasTHATit?Ifyouonlyknewthetruth!"

Sheraisedherheadquickly."ThenthereisatruthIdon'tknow?"

He kept his hand over hers. "I meant, the truth about the old story youspeakof."

"But that's what I want to know, Newland—what I ought to know. Icouldn't have my happiness made out of a wrong—an unfairness—tosomebody else. And I want to believe that it would be the samewith you.Whatsortofalifecouldwebuildonsuchfoundations?"

Herfacehadtakenonalookofsuchtragiccouragethathefeltlikebowinghimselfdownatherfeet."I'vewanted tosay this fora long time,"shewenton. "I'vewanted to tell you that,when two people really love each other, Iunderstandthattheremaybesituationswhichmakeitrightthattheyshould—shouldgoagainstpublicopinion.Andifyoufeelyourselfinanywaypledged...pledgedtothepersonwe'vespokenof...andifthereisanyway...anywayin which you can fulfill your pledge ... even by her getting a divorce ...Newland,don'tgiveherupbecauseofme!"

Hissurpriseatdiscoveringthatherfearshadfasteneduponanepisodesoremote and so completely of the past as his love-affair with Mrs. ThorleyRushworth gave way to wonder at the generosity of her view. There was

something superhuman in an attitude so recklessly unorthodox, and if otherproblemshadnot pressedonhimhewouldhavebeen lost inwonder at theprodigy of theWellands' daughter urging him tomarry his formermistress.Buthewasstilldizzywiththeglimpseoftheprecipicetheyhadskirted,andfullofanewaweatthemysteryofyoung-girlhood.

Foramomenthecouldnotspeak; thenhesaid:"There isnopledge—noobligationwhatever—ofthekindyouthink.Suchcasesdon'talways—presentthemselvesquiteassimplyas...Butthat'snomatter...Iloveyourgenerosity,because I feel asyoudo about those things ... I feel that each casemust bejudged individually, on its own merits ... irrespective of stupidconventionalities ... Imean, eachwoman's right to her liberty—"He pulledhimselfup,startledbytheturnhisthoughtshadtaken,andwenton,lookingatherwithasmile:"Sinceyouunderstandsomanythings,dearest,can'tyougoa little farther, and understand the uselessness of our submitting to anotherform of the same foolish conventionalities? If there's no one and nothingbetweenus,isn't thatanargumentformarryingquickly,ratherthanformoredelay?"

Sheflushedwithjoyandliftedherfacetohis;ashebenttoithesawthathereyeswerefullofhappytears.Butinanothermomentsheseemedtohavedescendedfromherwomanlyeminencetohelplessandtimorousgirlhood;andheunderstoodthathercourageandinitiativewereallforothers,andthatshehadnoneforherself.Itwasevidentthattheeffortofspeakinghadbeenmuchgreater than her studied composure betrayed, and that at his first word ofreassurance shehaddroppedback into theusual, as a too-adventurous childtakesrefugeinitsmother'sarms.

Archer had no heart to go on pleading with her; he was too muchdisappointed at the vanishing of the new beingwho had cast that one deeplook at him from her transparent eyes. May seemed to be aware of hisdisappointment, butwithout knowing how to alleviate it; and they stood upandwalkedsilentlyhome.

XVII.

"YourcousintheCountesscalledonmotherwhileyouwereaway,"JaneyArcherannouncedtoherbrotherontheeveningofhisreturn.

Theyoungman,whowasdiningalonewithhismotherandsister,glancedup in surpriseand sawMrs.Archer'sgazedemurelybentonherplate.Mrs.Archer did not regard her seclusion from the world as a reason for being

forgotten by it; andNewland guessed that shewas slightly annoyed that heshouldbesurprisedbyMadameOlenska'svisit.

"She had on a black velvet polonaisewith jet buttons, and a tiny greenmonkeymuff; I never saw her so stylishly dressed," Janey continued. "Shecamealone,earlyonSundayafternoon;luckilythefirewaslitinthedrawing-room.Shehadoneofthosenewcard-cases.Shesaidshewantedtoknowusbecauseyou'dbeensogoodtoher."

Newland laughed. "Madame Olenska always takes that tone about herfriends.She'sveryhappyatbeingamongherownpeopleagain."

"Yes,soshetoldus,"saidMrs.Archer."Imustsaysheseemsthankfultobehere."

"Ihopeyoulikedher,mother."

Mrs. Archer drew her lips together. "She certainly lays herself out toplease,evenwhensheiscallingonanoldlady."

"Mother doesn't think her simple," Janey interjected, her eyes screweduponherbrother'sface.

"It's just my old-fashioned feeling; dear May is my ideal," said Mrs.Archer.

"Ah,"saidherson,"they'renotalike."

*

Archer had left St.Augustine chargedwithmanymessages for oldMrs.Mingott;andadayortwoafterhisreturntotownhecalledonher.

Theold ladyreceivedhimwithunusualwarmth;shewasgrateful tohimfor persuading the Countess Olenska to give up the idea of a divorce; andwhen he told her that he had deserted the office without leave, and rusheddown to St. Augustine simply because he wanted to seeMay, she gave anadiposechuckleandpattedhiskneewithherpuff-ballhand.

"Ah,ah—soyoukickedoverthetraces,didyou?AndIsupposeAugustaandWelland pulled long faces, and behaved as if the end of theworld hadcome?ButlittleMay—sheknewbetter,I'llbebound?"

"Ihopedshedid;butafterallshewouldn'tagreetowhatI'dgonedowntoaskfor."

"Wouldn'tsheindeed?Andwhatwasthat?"

"IwantedtogethertopromisethatweshouldbemarriedinApril.What'stheuseofourwastinganotheryear?"

Mrs.MansonMingottscrewedupherlittlemouthintoagrimaceofmimicpruderyandtwinkledathimthroughmaliciouslids."'AskMamma,'Isuppose—theusualstory.Ah,theseMingotts—allalike!Borninarut,andyoucan'troot'emoutofit.WhenIbuiltthishouseyou'dhavethoughtIwasmovingtoCalifornia! Nobody ever HAD built above Fortieth Street—no, says I, norabove theBattery either, beforeChristopherColumbus discoveredAmerica.No, no; not oneof themwants to bedifferent; they're as scaredof it as thesmall-pox.Ah,mydearMr.Archer,IthankmystarsI'mnothingbutavulgarSpicer;butthere'snotoneofmyownchildrenthattakesaftermebutmylittleEllen." She broke off, still twinkling at him, and asked, with the casualirrelevance of old age: "Now, why in the world didn't you marry my littleEllen?"

Archerlaughed."Foronething,shewasn'ttheretobemarried."

"No—tobesure;more'sthepity.Andnowit'stoolate;herlifeisfinished."Shespokewiththecold-bloodedcomplacencyoftheagedthrowingearthintothe grave of young hopes. The young man's heart grew chill, and he saidhurriedly:"Can'tIpersuadeyoutouseyourinfluencewiththeWellands,Mrs.Mingott?Iwasn'tmadeforlongengagements."

OldCatherinebeamedonhimapprovingly."No;Icanseethat.You'vegotaquickeye.WhenyouwerealittleboyI'venodoubtyoulikedtobehelpedfirst."She threwbackherheadwith a laugh thatmadeher chins ripple likelittlewaves."Ah,here'smyEllennow!"sheexclaimed,astheportierespartedbehindher.

MadameOlenska came forwardwith a smile.Her face lookedvivid andhappy, and she held out her hand gaily toArcher while she stooped to hergrandmother'skiss.

"Iwasjustsayingtohim,mydear: 'Now,whydidn'tyoumarrymylittleEllen?'"

Madame Olenska looked at Archer, still smiling. "And what did heanswer?"

"Oh,mydarling,Ileaveyoutofindthatout!He'sbeendowntoFloridatoseehissweetheart."

"Yes,Iknow."Shestilllookedathim."Iwenttoseeyourmother,toaskwhereyou'dgone.Isentanotethatyouneveranswered,andIwasafraidyouwereill."

Hemutteredsomethingabout leavingunexpectedly, inagreathurry,andhavingintendedtowritetoherfromSt.Augustine.

"Andofcourseonceyouwerethereyouneverthoughtofmeagain!"She

continued to beam on him with a gaiety that might have been a studiedassumptionofindifference.

"If she stillneedsme, she'sdeterminednot to letme see it,"he thought,stung by her manner. He wanted to thank her for having been to see hismother, but under the ancestress'smalicious eye he felt himself tongue-tiedandconstrained.

"Lookathim—insuchhothastetogetmarriedthathetookFrenchleaveandrusheddowntoimplorethesillygirlonhisknees!That'ssomethinglikealover—that's thewayhandsomeBobSpicercarriedoffmypoormother;andthengottiredofherbeforeIwasweaned—thoughtheyonlyhadtowaiteightmonths forme!But there—you're not a Spicer, youngman; luckily for youandforMay.It'sonlymypoorEllenthathaskeptanyoftheirwickedblood;therestofthemareallmodelMingotts,"criedtheoldladyscornfully.

Archer was aware thatMadameOlenska, who had seated herself at hergrandmother's side, was still thoughtfully scrutinising him. The gaiety hadfadedfromhereyes,andshesaidwithgreatgentleness:"Surely,Granny,wecanpersuadethembetweenustodoashewishes."

Archerrosetogo,andashishandmetMadameOlenska'shefeltthatshewaswaitingforhimtomakesomeallusiontoherunansweredletter.

"WhencanIseeyou?"heasked,asshewalkedwithhimtothedooroftheroom.

"Wheneveryoulike;butitmustbesoonifyouwanttoseethelittlehouseagain.Iammovingnextweek."

Apang shot throughhimat thememoryofhis lamplithours in the low-studdeddrawing-room.Fewastheyhadbeen,theywerethickwithmemories.

"Tomorrowevening?"

Shenodded."Tomorrow;yes;butearly.I'mgoingout."

The next day was a Sunday, and if she were "going out" on a Sundayeveningitcould,ofcourse,beonlytoMrs.LemuelStruthers's.Hefeltaslightmovementofannoyance,notsomuchathergoing there (forherather likedhergoingwhereshepleasedinspiteof thevanderLuydens),butbecauseitwasthekindofhouseatwhichshewassuretomeetBeaufort,whereshemusthave known beforehand that she would meet him—and where she wasprobablygoingforthatpurpose.

"Very well; tomorrow evening," he repeated, inwardly resolved that hewouldnotgoearly,andthatbyreachingherdoorlatehewouldeitherpreventherfromgoingtoMrs.Struthers's,orelsearriveaftershehadstarted—which,allthingsconsidered,wouldnodoubtbethesimplestsolution.

*

It was only half-past eight, after all, when he rang the bell under thewisteria; not as late as he had intended by half an hour—but a singularrestlessness had driven him to her door. He reflected, however, that Mrs.Struthers'sSundayeveningswerenot likeaball,andthatherguests,as if tominimisetheirdelinquency,usuallywentearly.

Theonethinghehadnotcountedon,inenteringMadameOlenska'shall,wastofindhatsandovercoatsthere.Whyhadshebiddenhimtocomeearlyifshewashavingpeopletodine?OnacloserinspectionofthegarmentsbesideswhichNastasiawaslayinghisown,hisresentmentgavewaytocuriosity.Theovercoatswereinfacttheverystrangesthehadeverseenunderapoliteroof;and it took but a glance to assure himself that neither of them belonged toJuliusBeaufort.Onewasashaggyyellowulsterof"reach-me-down"cut,theotheraveryoldandrustycloakwithacape—somethinglikewhattheFrenchcalleda"Macfarlane."Thisgarment,whichappearedtobemadeforapersonofprodigious size, had evidently seen longandhardwear, and its greenish-blackfoldsgaveoutamoistsawdustysmellsuggestiveofprolongedsessionsagainstbar-roomwalls.On it lay a raggedgrey scarf andanodd felt hat ofsemiclericalshape.

Archer raised his eyebrows enquiringly at Nastasia, who raised hers inreturnwithafatalistic"Gia!"asshethrewopenthedrawing-roomdoor.

The youngman saw at once that his hostesswas not in the room; then,withsurprise,hediscoveredanotherladystandingbythefire.Thislady,whowaslong,leanandlooselyputtogether,wascladinraimentintricatelyloopedand fringed,with plaids and stripes andbands of plain colour disposed in adesign towhich the clue seemedmissing.Her hair,which had tried to turnwhiteandonlysucceededinfading,wassurmountedbyaSpanishcombandblacklacescarf,andsilkmittens,visiblydarned,coveredherrheumatichands.

Beside her, in a cloud of cigar-smoke, stood the owners of the twoovercoats,bothinmorningclothesthattheyhadevidentlynottakenoffsincemorning.Inoneof the two,Archer, tohissurprise, recognisedNedWinsett;the other and older, who was unknown to him, and whose gigantic framedeclaredhimtobethewearerofthe"Macfarlane,"hadafeeblyleonineheadwithcrumpledgreyhair,andmovedhisarmswith largepawinggestures,asthoughheweredistributinglayblessingstoakneelingmultitude.

Thesethreepersonsstoodtogetheronthehearth-rug,theireyesfixedonanextraordinarilylargebouquetofcrimsonroses,withaknotofpurplepansiesattheirbase,thatlayonthesofawhereMadameOlenskausuallysat.

"What they must have cost at this season—though of course it's the

sentiment one cares about!" the lady was saying in a sighing staccato asArchercamein.

Thethreeturnedwithsurpriseathisappearance,andthelady,advancing,heldoutherhand.

"Dear Mr. Archer—almost my cousin Newland!" she said. "I am theMarchionessManson."

Archer bowed, and she continued: "MyEllen has takenme in for a fewdays.IcamefromCuba,whereIhavebeenspendingthewinterwithSpanishfriends—such delightful distinguished people: the highest nobility of oldCastile—howIwishyoucouldknowthem!ButIwascalledawaybyourdeargreatfriendhere,Dr.Carver.Youdon'tknowDr.AgathonCarver,founderoftheValleyofLoveCommunity?"

Dr.Carverinclinedhisleoninehead,andtheMarchionesscontinued:"Ah,NewYork—NewYork—howlittle the lifeof thespirithas reached it!But IseeyoudoknowMr.Winsett."

"Oh, yes—I reachedhim some time ago; but not by that route,"Winsettsaidwithhisdrysmile.

The Marchioness shook her head reprovingly. "How do you know, Mr.Winsett?Thespiritblowethwhereitlisteth."

"List—oh,list!"interjectedDr.Carverinastentorianmurmur.

"Butdositdown,Mr.Archer.Wefourhavebeenhavingadelightfullittledinnertogether,andmychildhasgoneuptodress.Sheexpectsyou;shewillbedowninamoment.Wewerejustadmiringthesemarvellousflowers,whichwillsurpriseherwhenshereappears."

Winsettremainedonhisfeet."I'mafraidImustbeoff.PleasetellMadameOlenska thatweshall all feel lostwhensheabandonsour street.Thishousehasbeenanoasis."

"Ah,butshewon'tabandonYOU.Poetryandartarethebreathoflifetoher.ItISpoetryyouwrite,Mr.Winsett?"

"Well,no;butIsometimesreadit,"saidWinsett,includingthegroupinageneralnodandslippingoutoftheroom.

"Acausticspirit—unpeusauvage.Butsowitty;Dr.Carver,youDOthinkhimwitty?"

"Ineverthinkofwit,"saidDr.Carverseverely.

"Ah—ah—youneverthinkofwit!Howmercilessheistousweakmortals,Mr. Archer! But he lives only in the life of the spirit; and tonight he is

mentallypreparingthelectureheistodeliverpresentlyatMrs.Blenker's.Dr.Carver,would therebe time,beforeyou start for theBlenkers' to explain toMr.ArcheryourilluminatingdiscoveryoftheDirectContact?Butno;Iseeitisnearlynineo'clock,andwehavenorighttodetainyouwhilesomanyarewaitingforyourmessage."

Dr. Carver looked slightly disappointed at this conclusion, but, havingcompared his ponderous gold time-piece with Madame Olenska's littletravelling-clock,hereluctantlygathereduphismightylimbsfordeparture.

"Ishallseeyoulater,dearfriend?"hesuggestedtotheMarchioness,whorepliedwithasmile:"AssoonasEllen'scarriagecomesIwilljoinyou;Idohopethelecturewon'thavebegun."

Dr. Carver looked thoughtfully at Archer. "Perhaps, if this younggentleman is interested inmyexperiences,Mrs.Blenkermight allowyou tobringhimwithyou?"

"Oh,dear friend, if itwerepossible—Iamsureshewouldbe toohappy.ButIfearmyEllencountsonMr.Archerherself."

"That,"saidDr.Carver,"isunfortunate—buthereismycard."HehandedittoArcher,whoreadonit,inGothiccharacters:

+—————————————-+

|AgathonCarver|

|TheValleyofLove|

|Kittasquattamy,N.Y.|

+—————————————-+

Dr.Carver bowedhimself out, andMrs.Manson,with a sigh thatmighthavebeeneitherofregretorrelief,againwavedArchertoaseat.

"Ellenwillbedowninamoment;andbeforeshecomes,Iamsogladofthisquietmomentwithyou."

Archer murmured his pleasure at their meeting, and the Marchionesscontinued,inherlowsighingaccents:"Iknoweverything,dearMr.Archer—my child has told me all you have done for her. Your wise advice: yourcourageousfirmness—thankheavenitwasnottoolate!"

Theyoungmanlistenedwithconsiderableembarrassment.Wasthereanyone, he wondered, to whom Madame Olenska had not proclaimed hisinterventioninherprivateaffairs?

"MadameOlenskaexaggerates; I simplygavehera legalopinion,assheaskedmeto."

"Ah,butindoingit—indoingityouweretheunconsciousinstrumentof—of—whatwordhavewemodernsforProvidence,Mr.Archer?"criedthelady,tiltingherheadononesideanddroopingherlidsmysteriously."LittledidyouknowthatatthatverymomentIwasbeingappealedto:beingapproached,infact—fromtheothersideoftheAtlantic!"

Sheglancedoverhershoulder,as thoughfearfulofbeingoverheard,andthen,drawingherchairnearer,andraisingatinyivoryfantoherlips,breathedbehind it: "By theCounthimself—mypoor,mad, foolishOlenski;whoasksonlytotakeherbackonherownterms."

"GoodGod!"Archerexclaimed,springingup.

"You are horrified? Yes, of course; I understand. I don't defend poorStanislas,thoughhehasalwayscalledmehisbestfriend.Hedoesnotdefendhimself—hecastshimselfatherfeet:inmyperson."Shetappedheremaciatedbosom."Ihavehisletterhere."

"A letter?—HasMadameOlenska seen it?"Archer stammered, his brainwhirlingwiththeshockoftheannouncement.

TheMarchionessMansonshookherheadsoftly."Time—time;Imusthavetime. I know my Ellen—haughty, intractable; shall I say, just a shadeunforgiving?"

"But,goodheavens,toforgiveisonething;togobackintothathell—"

"Ah,yes,"theMarchionessacquiesced."Soshedescribesit—mysensitivechild!Butonthematerialside,Mr.Archer,ifonemaystooptoconsidersuchthings;doyouknowwhatsheisgivingup?Thoseroses thereonthesofa—acreslikethem,underglassandintheopen,inhismatchlessterracedgardensat Nice! Jewels—historic pearls: the Sobieski emeralds—sables,—but shecaresnothingforall these!Artandbeauty, thoseshedoescarefor,shelivesfor, as I always have; and those also surrounded her. Pictures, pricelessfurniture,music,brilliantconversation—ah,that,mydearyoungman,ifyou'llexcuseme,iswhatyou'venoconceptionofhere!Andshehaditall;andthehomageofthegreatest.ShetellsmesheisnotthoughthandsomeinNewYork—goodheavens!Herportraithasbeenpaintedninetimes;thegreatestartistsinEuropehavebegged for theprivilege.Are these thingsnothing?And theremorseofanadoringhusband?"

As the Marchioness Manson rose to her climax her face assumed anexpressionofecstatic retrospectionwhichwouldhavemovedArcher'smirthhadhenotbeennumbwithamazement.

HewouldhavelaughedifanyonehadforetoldtohimthathisfirstsightofpoorMedoraMansonwouldhavebeenintheguiseofamessengerofSatan;

but he was in nomood for laughing now, and she seemed to him to comestraightoutofthehellfromwhichEllenOlenskahadjustescaped.

"Sheknowsnothingyet—ofallthis?"heaskedabruptly.

Mrs.Mansonlaidapurplefingeronherlips."Nothingdirectly—butdoesshesuspect?Whocantell?Thetruthis,Mr.Archer,Ihavebeenwaitingtoseeyou.Fromthemoment Iheardof thefirmstandyouhad taken,andofyourinfluenceoverher,Ihopeditmightbepossibletocountonyoursupport—toconvinceyou..."

"Thatsheoughttogoback?Iwouldratherseeherdead!"criedtheyoungmanviolently.

"Ah,"theMarchionessmurmured,withoutvisibleresentment.Forawhileshe sat in her arm-chair, opening and shutting the absurd ivory fanbetweenhermittenedfingers;butsuddenlysheliftedherheadandlistened.

"Here she comes," she said in a rapidwhisper; and then, pointing to thebouquetonthesofa:"AmItounderstandthatyoupreferTHAT,Mr.Archer?Afterall,marriageismarriage...andmynieceisstillawife..."

XVIII.

"What are you two plotting together, aunt Medora?" Madame Olenskacriedasshecameintotheroom.

She was dressed as if for a ball. Everything about her shimmered andglimmeredsoftly,asifherdresshadbeenwovenoutofcandle-beams;andshecarriedherheadhigh,likeaprettywomanchallengingaroomfulofrivals.

"Wewere saying,mydear, thatherewas somethingbeautiful to surpriseyouwith,"Mrs.Mansonrejoined,risingtoherfeetandpointingarchlytotheflowers.

MadameOlenskastoppedshortandlookedatthebouquet.Hercolourdidnot change, but a sort ofwhite radiance of anger ran over her like summerlightning."Ah,"sheexclaimed,inashrillvoicethattheyoungmanhadneverheard,"whoisridiculousenoughtosendmeabouquet?Whyabouquet?Andwhytonightofallnights?Iamnotgoingtoaball;Iamnotagirlengagedtobemarried.Butsomepeoplearealwaysridiculous."

Sheturnedbacktothedoor,openedit,andcalledout:"Nastasia!"

Theubiquitoushandmaidenpromptlyappeared,andArcherheardMadameOlenska say, in an Italian that she seemed to pronounce with intentional

deliberateness in order that he might follow it: "Here—throw this into thedustbin!"andthen,asNastasiastaredprotestingly:"Butno—it'snotthefaultofthepoorflowers.Telltheboytocarrythemtothehousethreedoorsaway,thehouseofMr.Winsett,thedarkgentlemanwhodinedhere.Hiswifeisill—theymaygiveherpleasure...Theboyisout,yousay?Then,mydearone,runyourself;here,putmycloakoveryouandfly.Iwantthethingoutofthehouseimmediately!And,asyoulive,don'tsaytheycomefromme!"

Sheflunghervelvetoperacloakoverthemaid'sshouldersandturnedbackintothedrawing-room,shuttingthedoorsharply.Herbosomwasrisinghighunderitslace,andforamomentArcherthoughtshewasabouttocry;butsheburstintoalaughinstead,andlookingfromtheMarchionesstoArcher,askedabruptly:"Andyoutwo—haveyoumadefriends!"

"It'sforMr.Archertosay,darling;hehaswaitedpatientlywhileyouweredressing."

"Yes—I gave you time enough:my hairwouldn't go,"MadameOlenskasaid,raisingherhandtotheheaped-upcurlsofherchignon."Butthatremindsme: IseeDr.Carver isgone,andyou'llbe lateat theBlenkers'.Mr.Archer,willyouputmyauntinthecarriage?"

She followed the Marchioness into the hall, saw her fitted into amiscellaneous heap of overshoes, shawls and tippets, and called from thedoorstep:"Mind,thecarriageistobebackformeatten!"Thenshereturnedtothedrawing-room,whereArcher,onre-enteringit,foundherstandingbythemantelpiece, examiningherself in themirror. Itwasnotusual, inNewYorksociety,foraladytoaddressherparlour-maidas"mydearone,"andsendheroutonanerrandwrappedinherownopera-cloak;andArcher,throughallhisdeeper feelings, tasted thepleasurableexcitementofbeing inaworldwhereactionfollowedonemotionwithsuchOlympianspeed.

MadameOlenska did notmovewhen he came up behind her, and for asecond their eyesmet in themirror; then she turned, threw herself into hersofa-corner,andsighedout:"There'stimeforacigarette."

Hehandedhertheboxandlitaspillforher;andastheflameflashedupintoher facesheglancedathimwith laughingeyesandsaid:"Whatdoyouthinkofmeinatemper?"

Archer paused a moment; then he answered with sudden resolution: "Itmakesmeunderstandwhatyouraunthasbeensayingaboutyou."

"Iknewshe'dbeentalkingaboutme.Well?"

"She said you were used to all kinds of things—splendours andamusementsandexcitements—thatwecouldneverhopetogiveyouhere."

MadameOlenskasmiledfaintlyintothecircleofsmokeaboutherlips.

"Medora is incorrigibly romantic. It has made up to her for so manythings!"

Archerhesitatedagain,andagaintookhisrisk."Isyouraunt'sromanticismalwaysconsistentwithaccuracy?"

"Youmean:doesshespeakthetruth?"Herniececonsidered."Well,I'lltellyou: in almost everything she says, there's something true and somethinguntrue.Butwhydoyouask?Whathasshebeentellingyou?"

He lookedaway into the fire,and thenbackather shiningpresence.Hisheart tightened with the thought that this was their last evening by thatfireside,andthatinamomentthecarriagewouldcometocarryheraway.

"Shesays—shepretendsthatCountOlenskihasaskedhertopersuadeyoutogobacktohim."

Madame Olenska made no answer. She sat motionless, holding hercigaretteinherhalf-liftedhand.Theexpressionofherfacehadnotchanged;andArcherrememberedthathehadbeforenoticedherapparentincapacityforsurprise.

"Youknew,then?"hebrokeout.

She was silent for so long that the ash dropped from her cigarette. Shebrushedittothefloor."Shehashintedaboutaletter:poordarling!Medora'shints—"

"Isitatyourhusband'srequestthatshehasarrivedheresuddenly?"

MadameOlenskaseemedtoconsiderthisquestionalso."Thereagain:onecan'ttell.Shetoldmeshehadhada'spiritualsummons,'whateverthatis,fromDr.Carver.I'mafraidshe'sgoingtomarryDr.Carver...poorMedora,there'salwayssomeoneshewantstomarry.ButperhapsthepeopleinCubajustgottiredofher!Ithinkshewaswiththemasasortofpaidcompanion.Really,Idon'tknowwhyshecame."

"Butyoudobelieveshehasaletterfromyourhusband?"

AgainMadameOlenskabroodedsilently;thenshesaid:"Afterall, itwastobeexpected."

The young man rose and went to lean against the fireplace. A suddenrestlessness possessed him, and he was tongue-tied by the sense that theirminuteswerenumbered,andthatatanymomenthemighthearthewheelsofthereturningcarriage.

"Youknowthatyourauntbelievesyouwillgoback?"

MadameOlenska raised her headquickly.Adeepblush rose to her faceandspreadoverherneckandshoulders.Sheblushedseldomandpainfully,asifithurtherlikeaburn.

"Manycruelthingshavebeenbelievedofme,"shesaid.

"Oh,Ellen—forgiveme;I'mafoolandabrute!"

Shesmiledalittle."Youarehorriblynervous;youhaveyourowntroubles.IknowyouthinktheWellandsareunreasonableaboutyourmarriage,andofcourseIagreewithyou.InEuropepeopledon'tunderstandourlongAmericanengagements;Isupposetheyarenotascalmasweare."Shepronouncedthe"we"withafaintemphasisthatgaveitanironicsound.

Archer felt the irony but did not dare to take it up. After all, she hadperhapspurposelydeflected theconversation fromherownaffairs,andafterthepainhislastwordshadevidentlycausedherhefeltthatallhecoulddowastofollowherlead.Butthesenseofthewaninghourmadehimdesperate:hecouldnotbearthethoughtthatabarrierofwordsshoulddropbetweenthemagain.

"Yes,"hesaidabruptly;"IwentsouthtoaskMaytomarrymeafterEaster.There'snoreasonwhyweshouldn'tbemarriedthen."

"AndMayadoresyou—andyetyoucouldn'tconvinceher?I thoughthertoointelligenttobetheslaveofsuchabsurdsuperstitions."

"SheIStoointelligent—she'snottheirslave."

MadameOlenskalookedathim."Well,then—Idon'tunderstand."

Archerreddened,andhurriedonwitharush."Wehadafranktalk—almostthefirst.Shethinksmyimpatienceabadsign."

"Mercifulheavens—abadsign?"

"Shethinks itmeansthatIcan't trustmyself togooncaringforher.Shethinks,inshort,IwanttomarryheratoncetogetawayfromsomeonethatI—careformore."

MadameOlenska examined this curiously. "But if she thinks that—whyisn'tsheinahurrytoo?"

"Becauseshe'snotlikethat:she'ssomuchnobler.Sheinsistsallthemoreonthelongengagement,togivemetime—"

"Timetogiveherupfortheotherwoman?"

"IfIwantto."

MadameOlenskaleanedtowardthefireandgazedintoitwithfixedeyes.

DownthequietstreetArcherheardtheapproachingtrotofherhorses.

"ThatISnoble,"shesaid,withaslightbreakinhervoice.

"Yes.Butit'sridiculous."

"Ridiculous?Becauseyoudon'tcareforanyoneelse?"

"BecauseIdon'tmeantomarryanyoneelse."

"Ah."Therewasanotherlonginterval.Atlengthshelookedupathimandasked:"Thisotherwoman—doessheloveyou?"

"Oh,there'snootherwoman;Imean,thepersonthatMaywasthinkingofis—wasnever—"

"Then,why,afterall,areyouinsuchhaste?"

"There'syourcarriage,"saidArcher.

Shehalf-roseand lookedaboutherwithabsenteyes.Her fanandgloveslayonthesofabesideherandshepickedthemupmechanically.

"Yes;IsupposeImustbegoing."

"You'regoingtoMrs.Struthers's?"

"Yes."Shesmiledandadded:"ImustgowhereIaminvited,orIshouldbetoolonely.Whynotcomewithme?"

Archer felt thatatanycosthemustkeepherbesidehim,mustmakehergivehimtherestofherevening.Ignoringherquestion,hecontinuedto leanagainst thechimney-piece,hiseyes fixedon thehand inwhich sheheldhergloves and fan, as ifwatching to see if he had the power tomakeher dropthem.

"Mayguessed the truth," he said. "There is anotherwoman—butnot theoneshethinks."

EllenOlenskamadenoanswer,anddidnotmove.Afteramomenthesatdownbesideher,and,takingherhand,softlyunclaspedit,sothattheglovesandfanfellonthesofabetweenthem.

Shestartedup,andfreeingherselffromhimmovedawaytotheothersideofthehearth."Ah,don'tmakelovetome!Toomanypeoplehavedonethat,"shesaid,frowning.

Archer, changing colour, stood up also: it was the bitterest rebuke shecouldhavegivenhim."Ihavenevermadelovetoyou,"hesaid,"andInevershall.ButyouarethewomanIwouldhavemarriedifithadbeenpossibleforeitherofus."

"Possible for either of us?" She looked at him with unfeignedastonishment."Andyousaythat—whenit'syouwho'vemadeitimpossible?"

Hestaredather,groping inablackness throughwhicha singlearrowoflighttoreitsblindingway.

"I'VEmadeitimpossible—?"

"You,you,YOU!"shecried,herliptremblinglikeachild'sonthevergeoftears. "Isn't ityouwhomademegiveupdivorcing—give itupbecauseyoushowedmehowselfishandwickeditwas,howonemustsacrificeone'sselftopreservethedignityofmarriage...andtospareone'sfamilythepublicity,thescandal?Andbecausemyfamilywasgoingtobeyourfamily—forMay'ssakeandforyours—Ididwhatyoutoldme,whatyouprovedtomethatIoughttodo.Ah," shebrokeoutwitha sudden laugh, "I'vemadeno secretofhavingdoneitforyou!"

Shesankdownonthesofaagain,crouchingamongthefestiveripplesofher dress like a stricken masquerader; and the young man stood by thefireplaceandcontinuedtogazeatherwithoutmoving.

"GoodGod,"hegroaned."WhenIthought—"

"Youthought?"

"Ah,don'taskmewhatIthought!"

Stilllookingather,hesawthesameburningflushcreepuphernecktoherface.Shesatupright,facinghimwitharigiddignity.

"Idoaskyou."

"Well,then:therewerethingsinthatletteryouaskedmetoread—"

"Myhusband'sletter?"

"Yes."

"Ihadnothingtofearfromthatletter:absolutelynothing!AllIfearedwastobringnotoriety,scandal,onthefamily—onyouandMay."

"GoodGod,"hegroanedagain,bowinghisfaceinhishands.

Thesilencethatfollowedlayonthemwiththeweightofthingsfinalandirrevocable.ItseemedtoArchertobecrushinghimdownlikehisowngrave-stone;inallthewidefuturehesawnothingthatwouldeverliftthatloadfromhisheart.Hedidnotmovefromhisplace,orraisehisheadfromhishands;hishiddeneyeballswentonstaringintoutterdarkness.

"AtleastIlovedyou—"hebroughtout.

On theother sideof thehearth, from the sofa-cornerwherehe supposed

thatshestillcrouched,heheardafaintstifledcryinglikeachild's.Hestartedupandcametoherside.

"Ellen!Whatmadness!Whyareyoucrying?Nothing'sdonethatcan'tbeundone.I'mstillfree,andyou'regoingtobe."Hehadherinhisarms,herfacelikeawetflowerathislips,andalltheirvainterrorsshrivellinguplikeghostsat sunrise. The one thing that astonished him nowwas that he should havestood for fiveminutes arguingwithher across thewidthof the room,whenjusttouchinghermadeeverythingsosimple.

Shegavehimbackallhiskiss,butafteramomenthefeltherstiffeninginhisarms,andsheputhimasideandstoodup.

"Ah,mypoorNewland—Isupposethishadtobe.Butitdoesn'tintheleastalterthings,"shesaid,lookingdownathiminherturnfromthehearth.

"Italtersthewholeoflifeforme."

"No, no—it mustn't, it can't. You're engaged to May Welland; and I'mmarried."

Hestooduptoo,flushedandresolute."Nonsense!It'stoolateforthatsortofthing.We'venorighttolietootherpeopleortoourselves.Wewon'ttalkofyourmarriage;butdoyouseememarryingMayafterthis?"

She stood silent, resting her thin elbows on themantelpiece, her profilereflectedintheglassbehindher.Oneofthelocksofherchignonhadbecomeloosenedandhungonherneck;shelookedhaggardandalmostold.

"I don't see you," she said at length, "putting that question toMay. Doyou?"

Hegavearecklessshrug."It'stoolatetodoanythingelse."

"You say that because it's the easiest thing to say at this moment—notbecause it's true. In reality it's too late to do anything but what we'd bothdecidedon."

"Ah,Idon'tunderstandyou!"

She forced a pitiful smile that pinched her face instead of smoothing it."Youdon'tunderstandbecauseyouhaven'tyetguessedhowyou'vechangedthingsforme:oh,fromthefirst—longbeforeIknewallyou'ddone."

"AllI'ddone?"

"Yes.Iwasperfectlyunconsciousatfirstthatpeopleherewereshyofme—that they thought Iwas a dreadful sort of person. It seems they had evenrefusedtomeetmeatdinner.Ifoundthatoutafterward;andhowyou'dmadeyourmothergowithyoutothevanderLuydens';andhowyou'dinsistedon

announcing your engagement at theBeaufort ball, so that Imight have twofamiliestostandbymeinsteadofone—"

Atthathebrokeintoalaugh.

"Just imagine," she said, "how stupid and unobservant I was! I knewnothingofallthistillGrannyblurteditoutoneday.NewYorksimplymeantpeaceandfreedomtome:itwascominghome.AndIwassohappyatbeingamongmyownpeoplethateveryoneImetseemedkindandgood,andgladtoseeme.Butfromtheverybeginning,"shecontinued,"Ifelttherewasnooneaskindasyou;noonewhogavemereasonsthatIunderstoodfordoingwhatat first seemed so hard and—unnecessary. The very good people didn'tconvinceme;Ifeltthey'dneverbeentempted.Butyouknew;youunderstood;youhadfelt theworldoutsidetuggingatonewithall itsgoldenhands—andyet you hated the things it asks of one; you hated happiness bought bydisloyaltyandcrueltyandindifference.ThatwaswhatI'dneverknownbefore—andit'sbetterthananythingI'veknown."

Shespokeinalowevenvoice,withouttearsorvisibleagitation;andeachword, as it dropped from her, fell into his breast like burning lead. He satbowedover,hisheadbetweenhishands,staringatthehearthrug,andatthetipof the satin shoe that showed under her dress. Suddenly he knelt down andkissedtheshoe.

Shebentoverhim,layingherhandsonhisshoulders,andlookingathimwitheyessodeepthatheremainedmotionlessunderhergaze.

"Ah,don'tletusundowhatyou'vedone!"shecried."Ican'tgobacknowtothatotherwayofthinking.Ican'tloveyouunlessIgiveyouup."

Hisarmswereyearninguptoher;butshedrewaway,andtheyremainedfacingeachother,dividedby thedistance thatherwordshadcreated.Then,abruptly,hisangeroverflowed.

"AndBeaufort?Ishetoreplaceme?"

Asthewordssprangouthewaspreparedforanansweringflareofanger;and hewould havewelcomed it as fuel for his own. ButMadameOlenskaonlygrewa shadepaler, and stoodwithher armshangingdownbeforeher,andherheadslightlybent,asherwaywaswhensheponderedaquestion.

"He'swaitingforyounowatMrs.Struthers's;whydon'tyougotohim?"Archersneered.

Sheturnedtoringthebell."Ishallnotgooutthisevening;tellthecarriagetogoandfetchtheSignoraMarchesa,"shesaidwhenthemaidcame.

AfterthedoorhadclosedagainArchercontinuedtolookatherwithbittereyes."Whythissacrifice?Sinceyoutellmethatyou'relonelyI'venorightto

keepyoufromyourfriends."

She smiled a little under herwet lashes. "I shan't be lonelynow. IWASlonely; IWAS afraid.But the emptiness and the darkness are gone;when Iturnback intomyselfnowI'mlikeachildgoingatnight intoa roomwherethere'salwaysalight."

Her tone and her look still enveloped her in a soft inaccessibility, andArchergroanedoutagain:"Idon'tunderstandyou!"

"YetyouunderstandMay!"

He reddenedunder the retort,butkepthis eyesonher. "May is ready togivemeup."

"What!Threedaysafteryou'veentreatedheronyourkneestohastenyourmarriage?"

"She'srefused;thatgivesmetheright—"

"Ah,you'vetaughtmewhatanuglywordthatis,"shesaid.

Heturnedawaywithasenseofutterweariness.Hefeltasthoughhehadbeenstrugglingforhoursupthefaceofasteepprecipice,andnow,justashehad fought hisway to the top, his hold hadgivenway andhewas pitchingdownheadlongintodarkness.

Ifhecouldhavegotherinhisarmsagainhemighthavesweptawayherarguments;butshestillheldhimatadistancebysomethinginscrutablyaloofinherlookandattitude,andbyhisownawedsenseofhersincerity.Atlengthhebegantopleadagain.

"Ifwedothisnowitwillbeworseafterward—worseforeveryone—"

"No—no—no!"shealmostscreamed,asifhefrightenedher.

At thatmoment the bell sent a long tinkle through the house. They hadheardnocarriagestoppingatthedoor,andtheystoodmotionless,lookingateachotherwithstartledeyes.

Outside, Nastasia's step crossed the hall, the outer door opened, and amoment later she came in carrying a telegram which she handed to theCountessOlenska.

"The ladywas very happy at the flowers,"Nastasia said, smoothing herapron."Shethoughtitwashersignormaritowhohadsentthem,andshecriedalittleandsaiditwasafolly."

Hermistress smiled and took the yellow envelope. She tore it open andcarried it to the lamp; then,when thedoorhadclosedagain, shehanded thetelegramtoArcher.

ItwasdatedfromSt.Augustine,andaddressedtotheCountessOlenska.Init he read: "Granny's telegram successful. Papa andMamma agreemarriageafterEaster.AmtelegraphingNewland.Amtoohappyforwordsandloveyoudearly.YourgratefulMay."

*

Halfanhour later,whenArcherunlockedhisownfront-door,hefoundasimilarenvelopeonthehall-tableontopofhispileofnotesandletters.ThemessageinsidetheenvelopewasalsofromMayWelland,andranasfollows:"ParentsconsentweddingTuesdayafterEasterat twelveGraceChurcheightbridesmaidspleaseseeRectorsohappyloveMay."

Archercrumpleduptheyellowsheetasifthegesturecouldannihilatethenewsitcontained.Thenhepulledoutasmallpocket-diaryandturnedoverthepages with trembling fingers; but he did not find what he wanted, andcrammingthetelegramintohispockethemountedthestairs.

Alightwasshiningthroughthedoorof the littlehall-roomwhichservedJaneyasadressing-roomandboudoir,andherbrotherrappedimpatientlyonthepanel.Thedooropened,andhissisterstoodbeforehiminherimmemorialpurple flannel dressing-gown,with her hair "on pins."Her face looked paleandapprehensive.

"Newland! I hope there's no bad news in that telegram? I waited onpurpose,incase—"(NoitemofhiscorrespondencewassafefromJaney.)

He took no notice of her question. "Look here—what day is Easter thisyear?"

She looked shocked at such unchristian ignorance. "Easter? Newland!Why,ofcourse,thefirstweekinApril.Why?"

"The first week?"He turned again to the pages of his diary, calculatingrapidly under his breath. "The firstweek, did you say?"He threw back hisheadwithalonglaugh.

"Formercy'ssakewhat'sthematter?"

"Nothing'sthematter,exceptthatI'mgoingtobemarriedinamonth."

Janeyfelluponhisneckandpressedhimtoherpurpleflannelbreast."OhNewland, how wonderful! I'm so glad! But, dearest, why do you keep onlaughing?Dohush,oryou'llwakeMamma."

****

BookII

XIX.

Thedaywasfresh,withalivelyspringwindfullofdust.Alltheoldladiesinbothfamilieshadgotouttheirfadedsablesandyellowingermines,andthesmellofcamphorfromthefrontpewsalmostsmotheredthefaintspringscentoftheliliesbankingthealtar.

NewlandArcher,atasignal fromthesexton,hadcomeoutof thevestryandplacedhimselfwithhisbestmanonthechancelstepofGraceChurch.

Thesignalmeantthatthebroughambearingthebrideandherfatherwasinsight; but there was sure to be a considerable interval of adjustment andconsultationinthelobby,wherethebridesmaidswerealreadyhoveringlikeacluster of Easter blossoms. During this unavoidable lapse of time thebridegroom,inproofofhiseagerness,wasexpectedtoexposehimselfalonetothe gaze of the assembled company; and Archer had gone through thisformalityas resignedlyas throughall theotherswhichmadeofanineteenthcenturyNewYorkweddingaritethatseemedtobelongtothedawnofhistory.Everythingwasequally easy—orequallypainful, asonechose toput it—inthepathhewascommittedtotread,andhehadobeyedtheflurriedinjunctionsofhisbestmanaspiouslyasotherbridegroomshadobeyedhisown, in thedayswhenhehadguidedthemthroughthesamelabyrinth.

So farhewas reasonably sureofhaving fulfilledallhisobligations.Thebridesmaids' eight bouquets of white lilac and lilies-of-the-valley had beensent in due time, as well as the gold and sapphire sleeve-links of the eightushersandthebestman'scat's-eyescarf-pin;Archerhadsatuphalfthenighttryingtovarythewordingofhisthanksforthelastbatchofpresentsfrommenfriendsandex-lady-loves;thefeesfortheBishopandtheRectorweresafelyin thepocketofhisbestman;hisown luggagewasalreadyatMrs.MansonMingott's, where the wedding-breakfast was to take place, and so were thetravellingclothesintowhichhewastochange;andaprivatecompartmenthadbeenengagedinthetrainthatwastocarrytheyoungcoupletotheirunknowndestination—concealmentofthespotinwhichthebridalnightwastobespentbeingoneofthemostsacredtaboosoftheprehistoricritual.

"Got theringallright?"whisperedyoungvanderLuydenNewland,whowasinexperiencedinthedutiesofabestman,andawedbytheweightofhisresponsibility.

Archermade thegesturewhichhehadseensomanybridegroomsmake:withhisunglovedrighthandhefeltinthepocketofhisdarkgreywaistcoat,

and assured himself that the little gold circlet (engraved inside:Newland toMay,April—-,187-)wasinitsplace;then,resuminghisformerattitude,histallhatandpearl-greygloveswithblackstitchingsgraspedinhislefthand,hestoodlookingatthedoorofthechurch.

Overhead,Handel'sMarchswelledpompouslythroughtheimitationstonevaulting,carryingonitswavesthefadeddriftofthemanyweddingsatwhich,with cheerful indifference, he had stood on the same chancel stepwatchingotherbridesfloatupthenavetowardotherbridegrooms.

"HowlikeafirstnightattheOpera!"hethought,recognisingallthesamefaces in thesameboxes(no,pews),andwondering if,when theLastTrumpsounded,Mrs.SelfridgeMerrywouldbetherewiththesametoweringostrichfeathersinherbonnet,andMrs.Beaufortwiththesamediamondearringsandthesamesmile—andwhethersuitableprosceniumseatswerealreadypreparedfortheminanotherworld.

After that there was still time to review, one by one, the familiarcountenances in the first rows; the women's sharp with curiosity andexcitement,themen'ssulkywiththeobligationofhavingtoputontheirfrock-coatsbeforeluncheon,andfightforfoodatthewedding-breakfast.

"Toobadthebreakfast isatoldCatherine's," thebridegroomcouldfancyReggieChiverssaying."ButI'mtoldthatLovellMingottinsistedonitsbeingcookedbyhisownchef,soitoughttobegoodifonecanonlygetatit."Andhe could imagine Sillerton Jackson addingwith authority: "My dear fellow,haven't you heard? It's to be served at small tables, in the new Englishfashion."

Archer'seyeslingeredamomentontheleft-handpew,wherehismother,whohadenteredthechurchonMr.HenryvanderLuyden'sarm,satweepingsoftlyunderherChantillyveil,herhandsinhergrandmother'serminemuff.

"PoorJaney!"hethought,lookingathissister,"evenbyscrewingherheadaroundshecanseeonlythepeopleinthefewfrontpews;andthey'remostlydowdyNewlandsandDagonets."

On thehither sideof thewhite ribbondividingoff the seats reserved forthe familieshesawBeaufort, talland redfaced, scrutinising thewomenwithhisarrogant stare.Besidehimsathiswife,all silverychinchillaandviolets;and on the far side of the ribbon, Lawrence Lefferts's sleekly brushed headseemedtomountguardovertheinvisibledeityof"GoodForm"whopresidedattheceremony.

ArcherwonderedhowmanyflawsLefferts'skeeneyeswoulddiscoverinthe ritual of his divinity; then he suddenly recalled that he too had oncethoughtsuchquestionsimportant.Thethingsthathadfilledhisdaysseemed

nowlikeanurseryparodyoflife,orlikethewranglesofmediaevalschoolmenover metaphysical terms that nobody had ever understood. A stormydiscussion as to whether the wedding presents should be "shown" haddarkened the last hours before thewedding; and it seemed inconceivable toArcherthatgrown-uppeopleshouldworkthemselvesintoastateofagitationover such trifles, and that the matter should have been decided (in thenegative) byMrs.Welland's saying,with indignant tears: "I should as soonturnthereporterslooseinmyhouse."YettherewasatimewhenArcherhadhad definite and rather aggressive opinions on all such problems, andwheneverythingconcerningthemannersandcustomsofhislittletribehadseemedtohimfraughtwithworld-widesignificance.

"And all the while, I suppose," he thought, "real people were livingsomewhere,andrealthingshappeningtothem..."

"THERE THEY COME!" breathed the best man excitedly; but thebridegroomknewbetter.

ThecautiousopeningofthedoorofthechurchmeantonlythatMr.Brownthe livery-stable keeper (gowned in black in his intermittent character ofsexton)was taking apreliminary surveyof the scenebeforemarshallinghisforces. The doorwas softly shut again; then after another interval it swungmajesticallyopen,andamurmurranthroughthechurch:"Thefamily!"

Mrs.Wellandcamefirst,onthearmofhereldestson.Herlargepinkfacewas appropriately solemn, and her plum-coloured satinwith pale blue side-panels, and blue ostrich plumes in a small satin bonnet, met with generalapproval; but before she had settled herselfwith a stately rustle in the pewoppositeMrs.Archer'sthespectatorswerecraningtheirneckstoseewhowascomingafterher.Wildrumourshadbeenabroadthedaybefore to theeffectthatMrs.MansonMingott,inspiteofherphysicaldisabilities,hadresolvedonbeingpresentattheceremony;andtheideawassomuchinkeepingwithhersportingcharacterthatbetsranhighattheclubsastoherbeingabletowalkup the nave and squeeze into a seat. Itwas known that she had insisted onsendingherowncarpentertolookintothepossibilityoftakingdowntheendpanel of the front pew, and tomeasure the space between the seat and thefront;buttheresulthadbeendiscouraging,andforoneanxiousdayherfamilyhadwatchedherdallyingwith theplanofbeingwheeledup thenave inherenormousBathchairandsittingenthronedinitatthefootofthechancel.

The ideaof thismonstrous exposureofherpersonwas sopainful toherrelations that they could have covered with gold the ingenious person whosuddenly discovered that the chair was too wide to pass between the ironuprightsoftheawningwhichextendedfromthechurchdoortothecurbstone.Theideaofdoingawaywiththisawning,andrevealingthebridetothemob

ofdressmakersandnewspaperreporterswhostoodoutsidefightingtogetnearthejointsofthecanvas,exceededevenoldCatherine'scourage,thoughforamomentshehadweighedthepossibility."Why,theymighttakeaphotographofmychildANDPUTITINTHEPAPERS!"Mrs.Wellandexclaimedwhenhermother'slastplanwashintedtoher;andfromthisunthinkableindecencytheclanrecoiledwithacollectiveshudder.Theancestresshadhadtogivein;butherconcessionwasboughtonlybythepromisethatthewedding-breakfastshould take place under her roof, though (as the Washington Squareconnectionsaid)withtheWellands'houseineasyreachitwashardtohavetomakeaspecialpricewithBrowntodriveonetotheotherendofnowhere.

ThoughallthesetransactionshadbeenwidelyreportedbytheJacksonsasportingminoritystillclung to thebelief thatoldCatherinewouldappear inchurch, and therewas a distinct lowering of the temperaturewhen shewasfoundtohavebeenreplacedbyherdaughter-in-law.Mrs.LovellMingotthadthehighcolourandglassystareinducedinladiesofherageandhabitbytheeffortofgettingintoanewdress;butoncethedisappointmentoccasionedbyhermother-in-law'snon-appearancehadsubsided,itwasagreedthatherblackChantillyoverlilacsatin,withabonnetofParmaviolets,formedthehappiestcontrast to Mrs. Welland's blue and plum-colour. Far different was theimpression produced by the gaunt and mincing lady who followed on Mr.Mingott's arm, in a wild dishevelment of stripes and fringes and floatingscarves;andasthislastapparitionglidedintoviewArcher'sheartcontractedandstoppedbeating.

He had taken it for granted that the Marchioness Manson was still inWashington,whereshehadgonesomefourweekspreviouslywithherniece,MadameOlenska.Itwasgenerallyunderstoodthattheirabruptdeparturewasdue to Madame Olenska's desire to remove her aunt from the balefuleloquenceofDr.AgathonCarver,whohadnearlysucceededinenlistingheras a recruit for the Valley of Love; and in the circumstances no one hadexpectedeitheroftheladiestoreturnforthewedding.ForamomentArcherstoodwith his eyes fixed onMedora's fantastic figure, straining to seewhocame behind her; but the little procession was at an end, for all the lessermembers of the family had taken their seats, and the eight tall ushers,gathering themselves together like birds or insects preparing for somemigratorymanoeuvre,were already slipping through the side doors into thelobby.

"Newland—Isay:SHE'SHERE!"thebestmanwhispered.

Archerrousedhimselfwithastart.

Alongtimehadapparentlypassedsincehishearthadstoppedbeating,forthewhiteandrosyprocessionwasinfacthalfwayupthenave,theBishop,the

Rector and two white-winged assistants were hovering about the flower-bankedaltar,andthefirstchordsoftheSpohrsymphonywerestrewingtheirflower-likenotesbeforethebride.

Archer opened his eyes (but could they really have been shut, as heimagined?),andfelthisheartbeginningtoresumeitsusual task.Themusic,thescentoftheliliesonthealtar,thevisionofthecloudoftulleandorange-blossomsfloatingnearerandnearer,thesightofMrs.Archer'sfacesuddenlyconvulsedwithhappysobs,thelowbenedictorymurmuroftheRector'svoice,the ordered evolutions of the eight pink bridesmaids and the eight blackushers: all these sights, sounds and sensations, so familiar in themselves, sounutterably strange and meaningless in his new relation to them, wereconfusedlymingledinhisbrain.

"MyGod,"he thought,"HAVEIgot thering?"—andoncemorehewentthroughthebridegroom'sconvulsivegesture.

Then,inamoment,Maywasbesidehim,suchradiancestreamingfromherthatitsentafaintwarmththroughhisnumbness,andhestraightenedhimselfandsmiledintohereyes.

"Dearlybeloved,wearegatheredtogetherhere,"theRectorbegan...

The ringwas on her hand, theBishop's benediction had been given, thebridesmaids were a-poise to resume their place in the procession, and theorgan was showing preliminary symptoms of breaking out into theMendelssohn March, without which no newly-wedded couple had everemergeduponNewYork.

"Yourarm—ISAY,GIVEHERYOURARM!"youngNewlandnervouslyhissed;andoncemoreArcherbecameawareofhavingbeenadrift faroff intheunknown.Whatwasitthathadsenthimthere,hewondered?Perhapstheglimpse,amongtheanonymousspectatorsinthetransept,ofadarkcoilofhairunderahatwhich,amomentlater,revealeditselfasbelongingtoanunknownladywith a longnose, so laughablyunlike thepersonwhose image shehadevokedthatheaskedhimselfifhewerebecomingsubjecttohallucinations.

And now he and his wife were pacing slowly down the nave, carriedforwardon the lightMendelssohn ripples, the springdaybeckoning to themthroughwidely opened doors, andMrs.Welland's chestnuts,with bigwhitefavours on their frontlets, curvetting and showing off at the far end of thecanvastunnel.

The footman,who had a still biggerwhite favour on his lapel,wrappedMay's white cloak about her, and Archer jumped into the brougham at herside.Sheturnedtohimwithatriumphantsmileandtheirhandsclaspedunderherveil.

"Darling!" Archer said—and suddenly the same black abyss yawnedbefore him and he felt himself sinking into it, deeper and deeper,while hisvoice rambledonsmoothlyandcheerfully:"Yes,ofcourse I thought I'd lostthe ring; noweddingwould be complete if the poor devil of a bridegroomdidn'tgothroughthat.ButyouDIDkeepmewaiting,youknow!Ihadtimetothinkofeveryhorrorthatmightpossiblyhappen."

Shesurprisedhimbyturning, infullFifthAvenue,andflingingherarmsabouthisneck."ButnoneeverCANhappennow,canit,Newland,aslongaswetwoaretogether?"

*

Everydetailof thedayhadbeen socarefully thoughtout that theyoungcouple,afterthewedding-breakfast,hadampletimetoputontheirtravelling-clothes, descend the wideMingott stairs between laughing bridesmaids andweeping parents, and get into the broughamunder the traditional shower ofriceandsatinslippers;andtherewasstillhalfanhourleftinwhichtodrivetothe station, buy the last weeklies at the bookstall with the air of seasonedtravellers,andsettlethemselvesinthereservedcompartmentinwhichMay'smaidhadalreadyplacedherdove-colouredtravellingcloakandglaringlynewdressing-bagfromLondon.

TheoldduLacauntsatRhinebeckhadput theirhouseat thedisposalofthebridalcouple,withareadinessinspiredbytheprospectofspendingaweekinNewYorkwithMrs.Archer;andArcher,glad toescape theusual"bridalsuite"inaPhiladelphiaorBaltimorehotel,hadacceptedwithanequalalacrity.

May was enchanted at the idea of going to the country, and childishlyamused at the vain efforts of the eight bridesmaids to discover where theirmysterious retreat was situated. It was thought "very English" to have acountry-houselenttoone,andthefactgavealasttouchofdistinctiontowhatwasgenerallyconcededtobethemostbrilliantweddingoftheyear;butwherethehousewasnoonewaspermittedtoknow,excepttheparentsofbrideandgroom, who, when taxed with the knowledge, pursed their lips and saidmysteriously: "Ah, they didn't tell us—" which was manifestly true, sincetherewasnoneedto.

Oncetheyweresettledintheircompartment,andthetrain,shakingofftheendlesswoodensuburbs,hadpushedoutintothepalelandscapeofspring,talkbecameeasierthanArcherhadexpected.Maywasstill,inlookandtone,thesimplegirlofyesterday,eagertocomparenoteswithhimastotheincidentsofthewedding,anddiscussingthemasimpartiallyasabridesmaidtalkingitalloverwithanusher.At firstArcherhad fancied that thisdetachmentwas thedisguise of an inward tremor; but her clear eyes revealed only the mosttranquilunawareness.Shewasalonefor thefirst timewithherhusband;but

herhusbandwasonlythecharmingcomradeofyesterday.Therewasnoonewhom she liked asmuch, no onewhom she trusted as completely, and theculminating "lark" of the whole delightful adventure of engagement andmarriagewas tobeoffwithhimaloneona journey, likeagrownupperson,likea"marriedwoman,"infact.

It was wonderful that—as he had learned in the Mission garden at St.Augustine—such depths of feeling could coexist with such absence ofimagination. But he remembered how, even then, she had surprised him bydroppingbacktoinexpressivegirlishnessassoonasherconsciencehadbeeneased of its burden; and he saw that she would probably go through lifedealing to thebest of her abilitywith each experience as it came,but neveranticipatinganybysomuchasastolenglance.

Perhaps that faculty of unawareness was what gave her eyes theirtransparency,andherfacethelookofrepresentingatyperatherthanaperson;as if she might have been chosen to pose for a Civic Virtue or a Greekgoddess. The blood that ran so close to her fair skin might have been apreservingfluidratherthanaravagingelement;yetherlookofindestructibleyouthfulnessmadeherseemneitherhardnordull,butonlyprimitiveandpure.InthethickofthismeditationArchersuddenlyfelthimselflookingatherwiththe startled gaze of a stranger, and plunged into a reminiscence of thewedding-breakfast and of Granny Mingott's immense and triumphantpervasionofit.

May settled down to frank enjoyment of the subject. "I was surprised,though—weren'tyou?—thatauntMedoracameafterall.Ellenwrotethattheywereneitherof themwellenough to take the journey; Idowish ithadbeenshewhohadrecovered!Didyouseetheexquisiteoldlaceshesentme?"

He had known that the moment must come sooner or later, but he hadsomewhatimaginedthatbyforceofwillinghemightholditatbay.

"Yes—I—no: yes, it was beautiful," he said, looking at her blindly, andwonderingif,wheneverheheardthosetwosyllables,allhiscarefullybuilt-upworldwouldtumbleabouthimlikeahouseofcards.

"Aren'tyou tired?Itwillbegood tohavesome teawhenwearrive—I'msuretheauntshavegoteverythingbeautifullyready,"herattledon,takingherhand in his; and hermind rushed away instantly to themagnificent tea andcoffee service of Baltimore silver which the Beauforts had sent, andwhich"went"soperfectlywithuncleLovellMingott'straysandside-dishes.

Inthespringtwilightthetrainstoppedat theRhinebeckstation,andtheywalkedalongtheplatformtothewaitingcarriage.

"Ah, how awfully kind of the van der Luydens—they've sent theirman

overfromSkuyterclifftomeetus,"Archerexclaimed,asasedatepersonoutofliveryapproachedthemandrelievedthemaidofherbags.

"I'm extremely sorry, sir," said this emissary, "that a little accident hasoccurredattheMissduLacs':aleakinthewater-tank.Ithappenedyesterday,andMr.vanderLuyden,whoheardofitthismorning,sentahousemaidupbytheearlytraintogetthePatroon'shouseready.Itwillbequitecomfortable,Ithinkyou'llfind,sir;andtheMissduLacshavesenttheircookover,sothatitwillbeexactlythesameasifyou'dbeenatRhinebeck."

Archer stared at the speaker so blankly that he repeated in still moreapologeticaccents:"It'llbeexactlythesame,sir,Idoassureyou—"andMay'seager voice broke out, covering the embarrassed silence: "The same asRhinebeck? The Patroon's house? But it will be a hundred thousand timesbetter—won't it,Newland? It's too dear and kind ofMr. van derLuyden tohavethoughtofit."

And as they drove off, with the maid beside the coachman, and theirshining bridal bags on the seat before them, she went on excitedly: "Onlyfancy,I'veneverbeeninsideit—haveyou?ThevanderLuydensshowittosofew people.But they opened it for Ellen, it seems, and she toldmewhat adarling littleplace itwas: shesays it's theonlyhouseshe's seen inAmericathatshecouldimaginebeingperfectlyhappyin."

"Well—that'swhatwe'regoingtobe,isn'tit?"criedherhusbandgaily;andshe answered with her boyish smile: "Ah, it's just our luck beginning—thewonderfulluckwe'realwaysgoingtohavetogether!"

XX.

"OfcoursewemustdinewithMrs.Carfry,dearest,"Archersaid;andhiswife looked at himwith an anxious frown across themonumentalBritanniawareoftheirlodginghousebreakfast-table.

In all the rainy desert of autumnal London there were only two peoplewhomtheNewlandArchersknew;andthesetwotheyhadsedulouslyavoided,inconformitywith theoldNewYork tradition that itwasnot "dignified" toforceone'sselfonthenoticeofone'sacquaintancesinforeigncountries.

Mrs. Archer and Janey, in the course of their visits to Europe, had sounflinchinglyliveduptothisprinciple,andmetthefriendlyadvancesoftheirfellow-travellerswithanairofsuchimpenetrablereserve,thattheyhadalmostachieved the record of never having exchanged a word with a "foreigner"other than those employed in hotels and railway-stations. Their own

compatriots—save those previously known or properly accredited—theytreatedwithanevenmorepronounceddisdain;sothat,unlesstheyranacrossaChivers, a Dagonet or a Mingott, their months abroad were spent in anunbroken tete-a-tete. But the utmost precautions are sometimes unavailing;andonenightatBotzenoneofthetwoEnglishladiesintheroomacrossthepassage (whose names, dress and social situation were already intimatelyknown to Janey) had knocked on the door and asked ifMrs. Archer had abottleofliniment.Theotherlady—theintruder'ssister,Mrs.Carfry—hadbeenseized with a sudden attack of bronchitis; and Mrs. Archer, who nevertravelledwithoutacompletefamilypharmacy,wasfortunatelyabletoproducetherequiredremedy.

Mrs. Carfry was very ill, and as she and her sister Miss Harle weretravelling alone they were profoundly grateful to the Archer ladies, whosupplied themwith ingenious comforts and whose efficient maid helped tonursetheinvalidbacktohealth.

WhentheArchersleftBotzentheyhadnoideaofeverseeingMrs.CarfryandMissHarleagain.Nothing,toMrs.Archer'smind,wouldhavebeenmore"undignified"thantoforceone'sselfonthenoticeofa"foreigner" towhomone had happened to render an accidental service. ButMrs. Carfry and hersister,towhomthispointofviewwasunknown,andwhowouldhavefounditutterlyincomprehensible,feltthemselveslinkedbyaneternalgratitudetothe"delightful Americans" who had been so kind at Botzen. With touchingfidelity they seized every chance of meetingMrs. Archer and Janey in thecourseof their continental travels, anddisplayeda supernatural acuteness infindingoutwhentheywere topass throughLondonontheirwaytoorfromthe States. The intimacy became indissoluble, and Mrs. Archer and Janey,whenever they alighted atBrown'sHotel, found themselves awaited by twoaffectionate friendswho, like themselves, cultivated ferns inWardian cases,mademacramelace,readthememoirsoftheBaronessBunsenandhadviewsabout the occupants of the leading London pulpits. AsMrs. Archer said, itmade"anotherthingofLondon"toknowMrs.CarfryandMissHarle;andbythe time thatNewland became engaged the tie between the familieswas sofirmlyestablishedthatitwasthought"onlyright"tosendaweddinginvitationto the two English ladies, who sent, in return, a pretty bouquet of pressedAlpine flowers under glass. And on the dock, when Newland and his wifesailedforEngland,Mrs.Archer'slastwordhadbeen:"YoumusttakeMaytoseeMrs.Carfry."

Newlandandhiswifehadhadnoideaofobeyingthisinjunction;butMrs.Carfry, with her usual acuteness, had run them down and sent them aninvitation to dine; and it was over this invitation that May Archer waswrinklingherbrowsacrosstheteaandmuffins.

"It'sallverywellforyou,Newland;youKNOWthem.ButIshallfeelsoshyamongalotofpeopleI'venevermet.AndwhatshallIwear?"

Newlandleanedbackinhischairandsmiledather.Shelookedhandsomerand more Diana-like than ever. The moist English air seemed to havedeepened the bloom of her cheeks and softened the slight hardness of hervirginal features; or else itwas simply the inner glowof happiness, shiningthroughlikealightunderice.

"Wear, dearest? I thought a trunkful of things had come from Paris lastweek."

"Yes,ofcourse. Imeant tosay that I shan'tknowWHICHtowear."Shepouted a little. "I've never dined out in London; and I don't want to beridiculous."

He tried to enter intoherperplexity. "Butdon'tEnglishwomendress justlikeeverybodyelseintheevening?"

"Newland!Howcanyouasksuchfunnyquestions?Whentheygo to thetheatreinoldball-dressesandbareheads."

"Well, perhaps theywear newball-dresses at home; but at any rateMrs.CarfryandMissHarlewon't.They'llwearcapslikemymother's—andshawls;verysoftshawls."

"Yes;buthowwilltheotherwomenbedressed?"

"Not as well as you, dear," he rejoined, wondering what had suddenlydevelopedinherJaney'smorbidinterestinclothes.

Shepushedbackherchairwithasigh."That'sdearofyou,Newland;butitdoesn'thelpmemuch."

Hehadan inspiration."Whynotwearyourwedding-dress?Thatcan'tbewrong,canit?"

"Oh,dearest!IfIonlyhadithere!Butit'sgonetoParistobemadeoverfornextwinter,andWorthhasn'tsentitback."

"Oh,well—"saidArcher,gettingup."Lookhere—thefog'slifting.IfwemadeadashfortheNationalGallerywemightmanagetocatchaglimpseofthepictures."

*

The Newland Archers were on their way home, after a three months'wedding-tourwhichMay,inwritingtohergirlfriends,vaguelysummarisedas"blissful."

TheyhadnotgonetotheItalianLakes:onreflection,Archerhadnotbeen

abletopicturehiswifeinthatparticularsetting.Herowninclination(afteramonth with the Paris dressmakers) was for mountaineering in July andswimming in August. This plan they punctually fulfilled, spending July atInterlakenandGrindelwald,andAugustatalittleplacecalledEtretat,ontheNormandycoast,whichsomeonehadrecommendedasquaintandquiet.Onceor twice, in themountains,Archerhadpointedsouthwardandsaid:"There'sItaly";andMay,herfeetinagentian-bed,hadsmiledcheerfully,andreplied:"Itwouldbe lovely togo therenextwinter, ifonlyyoudidn'thave tobe inNewYork."

Butinrealitytravellinginterestedherevenlessthanhehadexpected.Sheregardedit(onceherclotheswereordered)asmerelyanenlargedopportunityfor walking, riding, swimming, and trying her hand at the fascinating newgameof lawntennis;andwhentheyfinallygotback toLondon(where theywere to spend a fortnight while he ordered HIS clothes) she no longerconcealedtheeagernesswithwhichshelookedforwardtosailing.

InLondonnothing interestedherbut the theatres and the shops; and shefoundthetheatreslessexcitingthanthePariscafeschantantswhere,undertheblossoming horse-chestnuts of the Champs Elysees, she had had the novelexperience of looking down from the restaurant terrace on an audience of"cocottes,"andhavingherhusbandinterprettoherasmuchofthesongsashethoughtsuitableforbridalears.

Archer had reverted to all his old inherited ideas aboutmarriage. Itwasless trouble to conform with the tradition and treat May exactly as all hisfriends treated their wives than to try to put into practice the theories withwhichhisuntrammelledbachelorhoodhaddallied.Therewasnouseintryingtoemancipateawifewhohadnot thedimmestnotion thatshewasnot free;and he had long since discovered that May's only use of the liberty shesupposed herself to possess would be to lay it on the altar of her wifelyadoration. Her innate dignity would always keep her from making the giftabjectly; and a daymight even come (as it once had)when shewould findstrengthtotakeitaltogetherbackifshethoughtsheweredoingitforhisowngood.Butwith a conceptionofmarriage souncomplicated and incurious asherssuchacrisiscouldbebroughtaboutonlybysomethingvisiblyoutrageousin his own conduct; and the fineness of her feeling for him made thatunthinkable.Whateverhappened,heknew,shewouldalwaysbeloyal,gallantandunresentful;andthatpledgedhimtothepracticeofthesamevirtues.

All this tended to draw him back into his old habits of mind. If hersimplicity had been the simplicity of pettiness he would have chafed andrebelled;butsincethelinesofhercharacter,thoughsofew,wereonthesamefinemouldasherface,shebecamethetutelarydivinityofallhisoldtraditionsandreverences.

Suchqualitieswerescarcelyof thekind toenlivenforeign travel, thoughtheymadehersoeasyandpleasantacompanion;buthesawatoncehowtheywouldfallintoplaceintheirpropersetting.Hehadnofearofbeingoppressedby them, for his artistic and intellectual lifewould go on, as it always had,outside the domestic circle; andwithin it therewould be nothing small andstifling—comingbacktohiswifewouldneverbelikeenteringastuffyroomaftera trampin theopen.Andwhen theyhadchildren thevacantcorners inboththeirliveswouldbefilled.

AllthesethingswentthroughhismindduringtheirlongslowdrivefromMayfairtoSouthKensington,whereMrs.Carfryandhersisterlived.Archertoo would have preferred to escape their friends' hospitality: in conformitywiththefamilytraditionhehadalwaystravelledasasight-seerandlooker-on,affecting a haughty unconsciousness of the presence of his fellow-beings.Onceonly,justafterHarvard,hehadspentafewgayweeksatFlorencewithabandofqueerEuropeanisedAmericans,dancingallnightwithtitledladiesinpalaces, and gambling half the day with the rakes and dandies of thefashionableclub;butithadallseemedtohim,thoughthegreatestfunintheworld, as unreal as a carnival. These queer cosmopolitan women, deep incomplicated love-affairswhich theyappeared to feel theneedof retailing toeveryonetheymet,andthemagnificentyoungofficersandelderlydyedwitswhowerethesubjectsortherecipientsoftheirconfidences,weretoodifferentfrom the peopleArcher had grownup among, toomuch like expensive andrather malodorous hot-house exotics, to detain his imagination long. Tointroduce his wife into such a society was out of the question; and in thecourse of his travels no other had shown any marked eagerness for hiscompany.

Not long after their arrival inLondonhehad run across theDukeofSt.Austrey, and the Duke, instantly and cordially recognising him, had said:"Look me up, won't you?"—but no proper-spirited American would haveconsidered that a suggestion to be acted on, and themeetingwaswithout asequel. They had even managed to avoid May's English aunt, the banker'swife,whowasstillinYorkshire;infact,theyhadpurposelypostponedgoingtoLondon till theautumn inorder that theirarrivalduring the seasonmightnotappearpushingandsnobbishtotheseunknownrelatives.

"Probably there'll be nobody atMrs. Carfry's—London's a desert at thisseason, and you'vemade yourselfmuch too beautiful,"Archer said toMay,whosatathissideinthehansomsospotlesslysplendidinhersky-bluecloakedgedwith swansdown that it seemedwicked to expose her to the Londongrime.

"Idon'twantthemtothinkthatwedresslikesavages,"shereplied,withascorn that Pocahontasmight have resented; and hewas struck again by the

religious reverence of even the most unworldly American women for thesocialadvantagesofdress.

"It's their armour," he thought, "their defence against the unknown, andtheirdefianceofit."AndheunderstoodforthefirsttimetheearnestnesswithwhichMay,whowasincapableoftyingaribboninherhairtocharmhim,hadgonethroughthesolemnriteofselectingandorderingherextensivewardrobe.

HehadbeenrightinexpectingthepartyatMrs.Carfry'stobeasmallone.Besides their hostess and her sister, they found, in the long chilly drawing-room,onlyanothershawledlady,agenialVicarwhowasherhusband,asilentladwhomMrs.Carfrynamedashernephew,andasmalldarkgentlemanwithlivelyeyeswhomsheintroducedashistutor,pronouncingaFrenchnameasshedidso.

Intothisdimly-litanddim-featuredgroupMayArcherfloatedlikeaswanwiththesunsetonher:sheseemedlarger,fairer,morevoluminouslyrustlingthan her husband had ever seen her; and he perceived that the rosiness andrustlingnesswerethetokensofanextremeandinfantileshyness.

"What on earth will they expect me to talk about?" her helpless eyesimplored him, at the very moment that her dazzling apparition was callingforththesameanxietyintheirownbosoms.Butbeauty,evenwhendistrustfulofitself,awakensconfidenceinthemanlyheart;andtheVicarandtheFrench-namedtutorweresoonmanifestingtoMaytheirdesiretoputheratherease.

Inspiteoftheirbestefforts,however,thedinnerwasalanguishingaffair.Archer noticed that his wife's way of showing herself at her ease withforeignerswastobecomemoreuncompromisinglylocalinherreferences,sothat, though her loveliness was an encouragement to admiration, herconversationwasachill torepartee.TheVicarsoonabandonedthestruggle;butthetutor,whospokethemostfluentandaccomplishedEnglish,gallantlycontinued to pour it out to her until the ladies, to themanifest relief of allconcerned,wentuptothedrawing-room.

TheVicar,afteraglassofport,wasobliged tohurryaway toameeting,andtheshynephew,whoappearedtobeaninvalid,waspackedofftobed.ButArcher and the tutor continued to sit over their wine, and suddenly ArcherfoundhimselftalkingashehadnotdonesincehislastsymposiumwithNedWinsett. The Carfry nephew, it turned out, had been threatened withconsumption, and had had to leave Harrow for Switzerland, where he hadspent twoyears in themilderairofLakeLeman.Beingabookishyouth,hehadbeenentrustedtoM.Riviere,whohadbroughthimbacktoEngland,andwastoremainwithhimtillhewentuptoOxfordthefollowingspring;andM.Riviereaddedwithsimplicitythatheshouldthenhavetolookoutforanotherjob.

Itseemedimpossible,Archerthought,thatheshouldbelongwithoutone,so variedwere his interests and somany his gifts. Hewas aman of aboutthirty,witha thinuglyface(Maywouldcertainlyhavecalledhimcommon-looking) towhich the play of his ideas gave an intense expressiveness; buttherewasnothingfrivolousorcheapinhisanimation.

Hisfather,whohaddiedyoung,hadfilledasmalldiplomaticpost,andithadbeenintendedthatthesonshouldfollowthesamecareer;butaninsatiabletaste for letters had thrown the young man into journalism, then intoauthorship (apparently unsuccessful), and at length—after other experimentsandvicissitudeswhichhesparedhislistener—intotutoringEnglishyouthsinSwitzerland.Beforethat,however,hehadlivedmuchinParis,frequentedtheGoncourtgrenier,beenadvisedbyMaupassantnot toattempt towrite (eventhatseemedtoArcheradazzlinghonour!),andhadoftentalkedwithMerimeein his mother's house. He had obviously always been desperately poor andanxious(havingamotherandanunmarriedsister toprovidefor),anditwasapparent thathis literaryambitionshadfailed.Hissituation, infact,seemed,materiallyspeaking,nomorebrilliantthanNedWinsett's;buthehadlivedinaworldinwhich,ashesaid,noonewholovedideasneedhungermentally.Asitwaspreciselyof that love thatpoorWinsettwasstarving todeath,Archerlookedwithasortofvicariousenvyatthiseagerimpecuniousyoungmanwhohadfaredsorichlyinhispoverty.

"Yousee,Monsieur,it'swortheverything,isn'tit,tokeepone'sintellectualliberty, not to enslave one's powers of appreciation, one's criticalindependence?ItwasbecauseofthatthatIabandonedjournalism,andtooktosomuchdullerwork:tutoringandprivatesecretaryship.Thereisagooddealofdrudgery,ofcourse;butonepreservesone'smoralfreedom,whatwecallinFrench one's quant a soi. Andwhen one hears good talk one can join in itwithout compromising any opinions but one's own; or one can listen, andanswer it inwardly.Ah, good conversation—there's nothing like it, is there?Theairofideasistheonlyairworthbreathing.AndsoIhaveneverregrettedgiving up either diplomacy or journalism—two different forms of the sameself-abdication."HefixedhisvivideyesonArcherashelitanothercigarette."Voyez-vous,Monsieur,tobeabletolooklifeintheface:that'sworthlivingin a garret for, isn't it? But, after all, onemust earn enough to pay for thegarret;andIconfessthattogrowoldasaprivatetutor—ora'private'anything—is almost as chilling to the imagination as a second secretaryship atBucharest.Sometimes I feel Imustmakeaplunge: an immenseplunge.Doyousuppose,forinstance,therewouldbeanyopeningformeinAmerica—inNewYork?"

Archerlookedathimwithstartledeyes.NewYork,forayoungmanwhohadfrequentedtheGoncourtsandFlaubert,andwhothoughtthelifeofideas

the only oneworth living!He continued to stare atM.Riviere perplexedly,wonderinghowtotellhimthathisverysuperioritiesandadvantageswouldbethesuresthindrancetosuccess.

"New York—New York—but must it be especially New York?" hestammered, utterly unable to imaginewhat lucrative opening his native citycould offer to a youngman towhomgood conversation appeared to be theonlynecessity.

AsuddenflushroseunderM.Riviere'ssallowskin."I—Ithoughtityourmetropolis:isnottheintellectuallifemoreactivethere?"herejoined;then,asiffearingtogivehishearertheimpressionofhavingaskedafavour,hewentonhastily: "One throwsout randomsuggestions—more toone's self than toothers.Inreality,Iseenoimmediateprospect—"andrisingfromhisseatheadded,withoutatraceofconstraint:"ButMrs.CarfrywillthinkthatIoughttobetakingyouupstairs."

During thehomewarddriveArcherpondereddeeplyon thisepisode.HishourwithM.Rivierehadputnewairintohislungs,andhisfirstimpulsehadbeen to invitehim todine thenextday;buthewasbeginning tounderstandwhymarriedmendidnotalwaysimmediatelyyieldtotheirfirstimpulses.

"Thatyoungtutorisaninterestingfellow:wehadsomeawfullygoodtalkafterdinneraboutbooksandthings,"hethrewouttentativelyinthehansom.

Mayrousedherselffromoneofthedreamysilencesintowhichhehadreadsomanymeanings before sixmonths ofmarriagehadgivenhim the key tothem.

"The little Frenchman? Wasn't he dreadfully common?" she questionedcoldly;andheguessedthatshenursedasecretdisappointmentathavingbeeninvited out in London to meet a clergyman and a French tutor. Thedisappointment was not occasioned by the sentiment ordinarily defined assnobbishness, but by old New York's sense of what was due to it when itriskeditsdignityinforeignlands.IfMay'sparentshadentertainedtheCarfrysin Fifth Avenue they would have offered them something more substantialthanaparsonandaschoolmaster.

ButArcherwasonedge,andtookherup.

"Common—common WHERE?" he queried; and she returned withunusualreadiness:"Why,Ishouldsayanywherebutinhisschool-room.Thosepeople are always awkward in society.But then," she added disarmingly, "IsupposeIshouldn'thaveknownifhewasclever."

Archerdislikedheruseoftheword"clever"almostasmuchasheruseoftheword"common";buthewasbeginningtofearhistendencytodwellonthe

things he disliked in her. After all, her point of view had always been thesame.Itwasthatofallthepeoplehehadgrownupamong,andhehadalwaysregardeditasnecessarybutnegligible.Untilafewmonthsagohehadneverknowna"nice"womanwholookedatlifedifferently;andifamanmarrieditmustnecessarilybeamongthenice.

"Ah—thenIwon'taskhimtodine!"heconcludedwithalaugh;andMayechoed,bewildered:"Goodness—asktheCarfrys'tutor?"

"Well,notonthesamedaywiththeCarfrys,ifyoupreferIshouldn't.ButIdidratherwantanothertalkwithhim.He'slookingforajobinNewYork."

Her surprise increased with her indifference: he almost fancied that shesuspectedhimofbeingtaintedwith"foreignness."

"AjobinNewYork?Whatsortofajob?Peopledon'thaveFrenchtutors:whatdoeshewanttodo?"

"Chiefly to enjoygoodconversation, Iunderstand,"herhusband retortedperversely; and she broke into an appreciative laugh. "Oh, Newland, howfunny!Isn'tthatFRENCH?"

On the whole, he was glad to have the matter settled for him by herrefusing to takeseriouslyhiswish to inviteM.Riviere.Anotherafter-dinnertalkwouldhavemadeitdifficulttoavoidthequestionofNewYork;andthemore Archer considered it the less he was able to fit M. Riviere into anyconceivablepictureofNewYorkasheknewit.

Heperceivedwithaflashofchillinginsightthatinfuturemanyproblemswould be thus negatively solved for him; but as he paid the hansom andfollowedhiswife'slongtrainintothehousehetookrefugeinthecomfortingplatitudethatthefirstsixmonthswerealwaysthemostdifficultinmarriage."After that I suppose we shall have pretty nearly finished rubbing off eachother'sangles,"he reflected;but theworstof itwas thatMay'spressurewasalreadybearingontheveryangleswhosesharpnesshemostwantedtokeep.

XXI.

Thesmallbrightlawnstretchedawaysmoothlytothebigbrightsea.

The turfwas hemmedwith an edge of scarlet geranium and coleus, andcast-iron vases painted in chocolate colour, standing at intervals along thewinding path that led to the sea, looped their garlands of petunia and ivygeraniumabovetheneatlyrakedgravel.

Half way between the edge of the cliff and the square wooden house(which was also chocolate-coloured, but with the tin roof of the verandahstripedinyellowandbrowntorepresentanawning)twolargetargetshadbeenplaced against a background of shrubbery. On the other side of the lawn,facingthetargets,waspitchedarealtent,withbenchesandgarden-seatsaboutit.Anumberof ladies in summerdressesandgentlemen ingrey frock-coatsand tallhats stoodon the lawnor satupon thebenches;andeverynowandthenaslendergirlinstarchedmuslinwouldstepfromthetent,bowinhand,andspeedhershaftatoneofthetargets,whilethespectatorsinterruptedtheirtalktowatchtheresult.

NewlandArcher,standingontheverandahofthehouse,lookedcuriouslydownuponthisscene.Oneachsideoftheshinypaintedstepswasalargebluechina flower-pot on a bright yellow china stand. A spiky green plant filledeachpot,andbelowtheverandahranawideborderofbluehydrangeasedgedwithmore redgeraniums.Behindhim, theFrenchwindowsof thedrawing-rooms through which he had passed gave glimpses, between swaying lacecurtains,ofglassyparquetfloorsislandedwithchintzpoufs,dwarfarmchairs,andvelvettablescoveredwithtriflesinsilver.

The Newport Archery Club always held its August meeting at theBeauforts'. The sport, which had hitherto known no rival but croquet, wasbeginning to be discarded in favour of lawn-tennis; but the latter gamewasstill considered too rough and inelegant for social occasions, and as anopportunity to show off pretty dresses and graceful attitudes the bow andarrowheldtheirown.

Archerlookeddownwithwonderatthefamiliarspectacle.Itsurprisedhimthatlifeshouldbegoingonintheoldwaywhenhisownreactionstoithadsocompletely changed. ItwasNewport that had first broughthome tohim theextentof the change. InNewYork,during thepreviouswinter, afterhe andMayhadsettleddowninthenewgreenish-yellowhousewiththebow-windowand the Pompeian vestibule, he had dropped back with relief into the oldroutineoftheoffice,andtherenewalofthisdailyactivityhadservedasalinkwith his former self. Then there had been the pleasurable excitement ofchoosingashowygreystepperforMay'sbrougham(theWellandshadgiventhe carriage), and the abiding occupation and interest of arranging his newlibrary,which,inspiteoffamilydoubtsanddisapprovals,hadbeencarriedoutas he had dreamed, with a dark embossed paper, Eastlake book-cases and"sincere"arm-chairs and tables.At theCenturyhehad foundWinsett again,andattheKnickerbockerthefashionableyoungmenofhisownset;andwhatwith the hours dedicated to the law and those given to dining out orentertaining friendsathome,withanoccasionaleveningat theOperaor theplay,thelifehewaslivinghadstillseemedafairlyrealandinevitablesortof

business.

But Newport represented the escape from duty into an atmosphere ofunmitigatedholiday-making.Archerhad tried topersuadeMay to spend thesummer on a remote island off the coast of Maine (called, appropriatelyenough, Mount Desert), where a few hardy Bostonians and Philadelphianswere camping in "native" cottages, andwhence came reports of enchantingsceneryandawild,almosttrapper-likeexistenceamidwoodsandwaters.

But theWellandsalwayswent toNewport,where theyownedoneof thesquareboxesonthecliffs,andtheirson-in-lawcouldadducenogoodreasonwhy he andMay should not join them there.AsMrs.Welland rather tartlypointedout,itwashardlyworthwhileforMaytohavewornherselfouttryingonsummerclothesinParisifshewasnottobeallowedtowearthem;andthisargumentwasofakindtowhichArcherhadasyetfoundnoanswer.

Mayherselfcouldnotunderstandhisobscurereluctancetofallinwithsoreasonableandpleasantawayofspendingthesummer.SheremindedhimthathehadalwayslikedNewportinhisbachelordays,andasthiswasindisputablehecouldonlyprofessthathewassurehewasgoingtolikeitbetterthanevernow that they were to be there together. But as he stood on the Beaufortverandahand lookedouton thebrightlypeopled lawn it camehome tohimwithashiverthathewasnotgoingtolikeitatall.

Itwas notMay's fault, poor dear. If, now and then, during their travels,theyhadfallenslightlyoutofstep,harmonyhadbeenrestoredbytheirreturntotheconditionsshewasusedto.Hehadalwaysforeseenthatshewouldnotdisappointhim;andhehadbeen right.Hehadmarried (asmostyoungmendid)becausehehadmetaperfectlycharminggirlatthemomentwhenaseriesof rather aimless sentimental adventures were ending in premature disgust;andshehadrepresentedpeace,stability,comradeship,andthesteadyingsenseofanunescapableduty.

He could not say that he had been mistaken in his choice, for she hadfulfilled all that he had expected. It was undoubtedly gratifying to be thehusbandofoneofthehandsomestandmostpopularyoungmarriedwomeninNewYork, especiallywhen shewas also one of the sweetest-tempered andmost reasonable of wives; and Archer had never been insensible to suchadvantages.Asforthemomentarymadnesswhichhadfallenuponhimontheeve of his marriage, he had trained himself to regard it as the last of hisdiscarded experiments. The idea that he could ever, in his senses, havedreamedofmarrying theCountessOlenskahadbecomealmostunthinkable,andsheremainedinhismemorysimplyasthemostplaintiveandpoignantofalineofghosts.

Butalltheseabstractionsandeliminationsmadeofhismindaratherempty

andechoingplace,andhesupposedthatwasoneofthereasonswhythebusyanimated people on the Beaufort lawn shocked him as if they had beenchildrenplayinginagrave-yard.

He heard a murmur of skirts beside him, and theMarchionessMansonflutteredoutof thedrawing-roomwindow.Asusual,shewasextraordinarilyfestooned and bedizened,with a limpLeghorn hat anchored to her head bymanywindingsof fadedgauze, anda littleblackvelvetparasolonacarvedivoryhandleabsurdlybalancedoverhermuchlargerhatbrim.

"My dear Newland, I had no idea that you and May had arrived! Youyourselfcameonlyyesterday,yousay?Ah,business—business—professionalduties...Iunderstand.Manyhusbands,Iknow,finditimpossibletojointheirwives here except for theweek-end." She cocked her head on one side andlanguished at him through screwed-up eyes. "But marriage is one longsacrifice,asIusedoftentoremindmyEllen—"

Archer'sheartstoppedwiththequeerjerkwhichithadgivenoncebefore,and which seemed suddenly to slam a door between himself and the outerworld; but this break of continuity must have been of the briefest, for hepresentlyheardMedoraansweringaquestionhehadapparentlyfoundvoicetoput.

"No, I am not staying here, but with the Blenkers, in their delicioussolitudeatPortsmouth.Beaufortwaskindenoughtosendhisfamoustrottersformethismorning,sothatImighthaveatleastaglimpseofoneofRegina'sgarden-parties; but this evening I go back to rural life. The Blenkers, dearoriginal beings, have hired a primitive old farm-house at Portsmouthwheretheygatheraboutthemrepresentativepeople..."Shedroopedslightlybeneathher protecting brim, and addedwith a faint blush: "ThisweekDr.AgathonCarverisholdingaseriesofInnerThoughtmeetingsthere.Acontrastindeedto this gay scene of worldly pleasure—but then I have always lived oncontrasts!Tometheonlydeathismonotony.IalwayssaytoEllen:Bewareofmonotony; it's themotherofall thedeadly sins.Butmypoorchild isgoingthrough a phase of exaltation, of abhorrence of the world. You know, Isuppose,thatshehasdeclinedallinvitationstostayatNewport,evenwithhergrandmotherMingott? I could hardly persuade her to comewithme to theBlenkers',ifyouwillbelieveit!Thelifesheleadsismorbid,unnatural.Ah,ifshehadonlylistenedtomewhenitwasstillpossible ...Whenthedoorwasstill open ... But shallwe go down andwatch this absorbingmatch? I hearyourMayisoneofthecompetitors."

StrollingtowardthemfromthetentBeaufortadvancedoverthelawn,tall,heavy, too tightly buttoned into a London frock-coat, with one of his ownorchids in its buttonhole. Archer, who had not seen him for two or three

months,wasstruckbythechangeinhisappearance.Inthehotsummerlighthis floridness seemed heavy and bloated, and but for his erect square-shoulderedwalkhewouldhavelookedlikeanover-fedandover-dressedoldman.

TherewereallsortsofrumoursafloataboutBeaufort.InthespringhehadgoneoffonalongcruisetotheWestIndiesinhisnewsteam-yacht,anditwasreportedthat,atvariouspointswherehehadtouched,aladyresemblingMissFanny Ring had been seen in his company. The steam-yacht, built in theClyde,andfittedwithtiledbath-roomsandotherunheard-ofluxuries,wassaidtohavecosthimhalfamillion;andthepearlnecklacewhichhehadpresentedtohiswifeonhisreturnwasasmagnificentassuchexpiatoryofferingsareapttobe.Beaufort'sfortunewassubstantialenoughtostandthestrain;andyetthedisquieting rumours persisted, not only in Fifth Avenue but inWall Street.Somepeoplesaidhehadspeculatedunfortunatelyinrailways,others thathewasbeingbledbyoneofthemostinsatiablemembersofherprofession;andto every report of threatened insolvency Beaufort replied by a freshextravagance: thebuildingofanewrowoforchid-houses, thepurchaseofanewstringofrace-horses,ortheadditionofanewMeissonnierorCabaneltohispicture-gallery.

He advanced toward theMarchioness and Newland with his usual half-sneering smile. "Hullo, Medora! Did the trotters do their business? Fortyminutes, eh? ... Well, that's not so bad, considering your nerves had to bespared." He shook hands with Archer, and then, turning back with them,placedhimselfonMrs.Manson'sother side,andsaid, ina lowvoice,a fewwordswhichtheircompaniondidnotcatch.

TheMarchioness replied by one of her queer foreign jerks, and a "Quevoulez-vous?" which deepened Beaufort's frown; but he produced a goodsemblance of a congratulatory smile as he glanced at Archer to say: "YouknowMay'sgoingtocarryoffthefirstprize."

"Ah, then it remains in the family,"Medora rippled; and at thatmomenttheyreachedthetentandMrs.Beaufortmettheminagirlishcloudofmauvemuslinandfloatingveils.

MayWellandwas just comingoutof the tent. Inherwhitedress,withapalegreenribbonaboutthewaistandawreathofivyonherhat,shehadthesameDiana-likealoofnessaswhenshehadenteredtheBeaufortball-roomonthe night of her engagement. In the interval not a thought seemed to havepassedbehindhereyesorafeelingthroughherheart;andthoughherhusbandknew that she had the capacity for both hemarvelled afresh at the way inwhichexperiencedroppedawayfromher.

Shehadherbowandarrowinherhand,andplacingherselfonthechalk-

marktracedontheturfsheliftedthebowtohershoulderandtookaim.Theattitudewassofullofaclassicgracethatamurmurofappreciationfollowedher appearance, and Archer felt the glow of proprietorship that so oftencheatedhimintomomentarywell-being.Herrivals—Mrs.ReggieChivers,theMerrygirls, anddivers rosyThorleys,Dagonets andMingotts, stoodbehindherinalovelyanxiousgroup,brownheadsandgoldenbentabovethescores,andpalemuslinsand flower-wreathedhatsmingled ina tender rainbow.Allwere young and pretty, and bathed in summer bloom; but not one had thenymph-likeeaseofhiswife,when,withtensemusclesandhappyfrown,shebenthersouluponsomefeatofstrength.

"Gad,"ArcherheardLawrenceLeffertssay,"notoneof the lotholds thebowasshedoes";andBeaufortretorted:"Yes;butthat'stheonlykindoftargetshe'lleverhit."

Archer felt irrationally angry. His host's contemptuous tribute to May's"niceness"was justwhat a husband should havewished to hear said of hiswife. The fact that a coarsemindedman found her lacking in attractionwassimplyanotherproofofherquality;yetthewordssentafaintshiverthroughhis heart. What if "niceness" carried to that supreme degree were only anegation, the curtain dropped before an emptiness? As he looked at May,returningflushedandcalmfromherfinalbull's-eye,hehadthefeelingthathehadneveryetliftedthatcurtain.

She took thecongratulationsofher rivalsandof therestof thecompanywiththesimplicitythatwashercrowninggrace.Noonecouldeverbejealousofhertriumphsbecauseshemanagedtogivethefeelingthatshewouldhavebeen just as serene if she had missed them. But when her eyes met herhusband'sherfaceglowedwiththepleasureshesawinhis.

Mrs.Welland'sbasket-workpony-carriagewaswaitingforthem,andtheydroveoffamongthedispersingcarriages,MayhandlingthereinsandArchersittingatherside.

Theafternoonsunlightstilllingereduponthebrightlawnsandshrubberies,andupanddownBellevueAvenuerolledadoublelineofvictorias,dog-carts,landaus and "vis-a-vis," carrying well-dressed ladies and gentlemen awayfromtheBeaufortgarden-party,orhomewardfromtheirdailyafternoonturnalongtheOceanDrive.

"ShallwegotoseeGranny?"Maysuddenlyproposed."IshouldliketotellhermyselfthatI'vewontheprize.There'slotsoftimebeforedinner."

Archeracquiesced,andsheturnedtheponiesdownNarragansettAvenue,crossedSpringStreetanddroveouttowardtherockymoorlandbeyond.InthisunfashionableregionCatherinetheGreat,alwaysindifferenttoprecedentand

thrifty of purse, had built herself in her youth a many-peaked and cross-beamed cottage-orne on a bit of cheap land overlooking the bay.Here, in athicket of stunted oaks, her verandahs spread themselves above the island-dottedwaters.Awindingdriveledupbetweenironstagsandblueglassballsembeddedinmoundsofgeraniumstoafrontdoorofhighly-varnishedwalnutunderastripedverandah-roof;andbehinditrananarrowhallwithablackandyellow star-patterned parquet floor, upon which opened four small squarerooms with heavy flock-papers under ceilings on which an Italian house-painter had lavished all the divinities ofOlympus. One of these rooms hadbeen turned into a bedroom by Mrs. Mingott when the burden of fleshdescendedonher,andintheadjoiningoneshespentherdays,enthronedinalargearmchairbetweentheopendoorandwindow,andperpetuallywavingapalm-leaffanwhichtheprodigiousprojectionofherbosomkeptsofarfromtherestofherpersonthattheairitsetinmotionstirredonlythefringeoftheanti-macassarsonthechair-arms.

SinceshehadbeenthemeansofhasteninghismarriageoldCatherinehadshown toArcher the cordialitywhich a service rendered excites toward thepersonserved.Shewaspersuadedthatirrepressiblepassionwasthecauseofhisimpatience;andbeinganardentadmirerofimpulsiveness(whenitdidnotleadtothespendingofmoney)shealwaysreceivedhimwithagenialtwinkleof complicity and a play of allusion to which May seemed fortunatelyimpervious.

Sheexaminedandappraisedwithmuchinterestthediamond-tippedarrowwhich had been pinned on May's bosom at the conclusion of the match,remarkingthatinherdayafiligreebroochwouldhavebeenthoughtenough,butthattherewasnodenyingthatBeaufortdidthingshandsomely.

"Quite an heirloom, in fact,mydear," the old lady chuckled. "Youmustleaveitinfeetoyoureldestgirl."ShepinchedMay'swhitearmandwatchedthecolourfloodherface."Well,well,whathaveIsaidtomakeyoushakeoutthe red flag? Ain't there going to be any daughters—only boys, eh? Goodgracious, look at her blushing again all over her blushes!What—can't I saythateither?Mercyme—whenmychildrenbegmetohaveallthosegodsandgoddesses painted out overhead I always say I'm too thankful to havesomebodyaboutmethatNOTHINGcanshock!"

Archerburstintoalaugh,andMayechoedit,crimsontotheeyes.

"Well,nowtellmeallabouttheparty,please,mydears,forIshallnevergetastraightwordaboutitoutofthatsillyMedora,"theancestresscontinued;and,asMayexclaimed:"CousinMedora?ButIthoughtshewasgoingbacktoPortsmouth?"sheansweredplacidly: "Soshe is—but she'sgot tocomeherefirsttopickupEllen.Ah—youdidn'tknowEllenhadcometospendtheday

with me? Such fol-de-rol, her not coming for the summer; but I gave uparguingwithyoungpeopleaboutfiftyyearsago.Ellen—ELLEN!"shecriedinhershrilloldvoice, trying tobendforwardfarenough tocatchaglimpseofthelawnbeyondtheverandah.

Therewasnoanswer,andMrs.Mingottrappedimpatientlywithherstickontheshinyfloor.Amulattomaid-servantinabrightturban,replyingtothesummons, informedhermistress thatshehadseen"MissEllen"goingdownthepathtotheshore;andMrs.MingottturnedtoArcher.

"Run down and fetch her, like a good grandson; this pretty lady willdescribethepartytome,"shesaid;andArcherstoodupasifinadream.

He had heard the Countess Olenska's name pronounced often enoughduringtheyearandahalfsincetheyhadlastmet,andwasevenfamiliarwiththemainincidentsofherlifeintheinterval.Heknewthatshehadspenttheprevious summeratNewport,where sheappeared tohavegoneagreatdealinto society, but that in the autumn she had suddenly sub-let the "perfecthouse"whichBeauforthadbeenatsuchpainstofindforher,anddecidedtoestablishherselfinWashington.There,duringthewinter,hehadheardofher(as one always heard of pretty women in Washington) as shining in the"brilliant diplomatic society" that was supposed to make up for the socialshort-comingsoftheAdministration.Hehadlistenedtotheseaccounts,andtovariouscontradictoryreportsonherappearance,herconversation,herpointofviewandherchoiceoffriends,withthedetachmentwithwhichonelistenstoreminiscencesof someone long sincedead; not tillMedora suddenly spokehernameatthearcherymatchhadEllenOlenskabecomealivingpresencetohimagain.TheMarchioness's foolish lisphadcalledupavisionof the littlefire-litdrawing-roomandthesoundofthecarriage-wheelsreturningdownthedesertedstreet.Hethoughtofastoryhehadread,ofsomepeasantchildreninTuscany lighting a bunch of straw in a wayside cavern, and revealing oldsilentimagesintheirpaintedtomb...

Theway to the shore descended from the bank onwhich the housewasperched to awalk above thewater plantedwithweepingwillows. Throughtheir veil Archer caught the glint of the Lime Rock, with its white-washedturret and the tiny house inwhich the heroic light-house keeper, IdaLewis,was living her last venerable years.Beyond it lay the flat reaches and uglygovernment chimneys of Goat Island, the bay spreading northward in ashimmer of gold to Prudence Island with its low growth of oaks, and theshoresofConanicutfaintinthesunsethaze.

From thewillowwalkprojecteda slightwoodenpierending ina sortofpagoda-likesummer-house;andinthepagodaaladystood,leaningagainsttherail,herbacktotheshore.Archerstoppedatthesightasifhehadwakedfrom

sleep.Thatvisionof thepastwasadream,andtherealitywaswhatawaitedhim in the house on the bank overhead: wasMrs.Welland's pony-carriagecircling around and around the oval at the door,wasMay sitting under theshamelessOlympiansandglowingwithsecrethopes,wastheWellandvillaatthefarendofBellevueAvenue,andMr.Welland,alreadydressedfordinner,andpacingthedrawing-roomfloor,watchinhand,withdyspepticimpatience—for it was one of the houses in which one always knew exactly what ishappeningatagivenhour.

"WhatamI?Ason-in-law—"Archerthought.

The figureat theendof thepierhadnotmoved.Fora longmoment theyoungmanstoodhalfwaydownthebank,gazingatthebayfurrowedwiththecoming and going of sailboats, yacht-launches, fishing-craft and the trailingblackcoal-bargeshauledbynoisytugs.Theladyinthesummer-houseseemedtobeheldbythesamesight.BeyondthegreybastionsofFortAdamsalong-drawnsunsetwassplinteringupintoathousandfires,andtheradiancecaughtthesailofacatboatasitbeatoutthroughthechannelbetweentheLimeRockand the shore. Archer, as he watched, remembered the scene in theShaughraun, andMontague liftingAdaDyas's ribbon tohis lipswithoutherknowingthathewasintheroom.

"Shedoesn'tknow—shehasn'tguessed.Shouldn't Iknowifshecameupbehindme, I wonder?" hemused; and suddenly he said to himself: "If shedoesn'tturnbeforethatsailcrossestheLimeRocklightI'llgoback."

Theboatwasglidingoutontherecedingtide.ItslidbeforetheLimeRock,blottedoutIdaLewis's littlehouse,andpassedacrosstheturret inwhichthelightwashung.Archerwaitedtillawidespaceofwatersparkledbetweenthelast reef of the island and the stern of the boat; but still the figure in thesummer-housedidnotmove.

Heturnedandwalkedupthehill.

*

"I'm sorry you didn't find Ellen—I should have liked to see her again,"May said as they drove home through the dusk. "But perhaps shewouldn'thavecared—sheseemssochanged."

"Changed?"echoedherhusbandinacolourlessvoice,hiseyesfixedontheponies'twitchingears.

"Soindifferenttoherfriends,Imean;givingupNewYorkandherhouse,and spending her time with such queer people. Fancy how hideouslyuncomfortable she must be at the Blenkers'! She says she does it to keepcousinMedoraoutofmischief:topreventhermarryingdreadfulpeople.ButI

sometimesthinkwe'vealwaysboredher."

Archermadenoanswer,andshecontinued,witha tingeofhardness thathehadneverbeforenoticedinherfrankfreshvoice:"Afterall,Iwonderifshewouldn'tbehappierwithherhusband."

He burst into a laugh. "Sancta simplicitas!" he exclaimed; and as sheturnedapuzzledfrownonhimheadded:"Idon'tthinkIeverheardyousayacruelthingbefore."

"Cruel?"

"Well—watching the contortions of the damned is supposed to be afavouritesportoftheangels;butIbelieveeventheydon'tthinkpeoplehappierinhell."

"It'sapitysheevermarriedabroadthen,"saidMay,intheplacidtonewithwhichhermothermetMr.Welland'svagaries;andArcherfelthimselfgentlyrelegatedtothecategoryofunreasonablehusbands.

TheydrovedownBellevueAvenueand turned inbetween thechamferedwoodengate-postssurmountedbycast-ironlampswhichmarkedtheapproachto theWelland villa. Lights were already shining through its windows, andArcher,asthecarriagestopped,caughtaglimpseofhisfather-in-law,exactlyashehadpicturedhim,pacingthedrawing-room,watchinhandandwearingthe pained expression that he had long since found to be much moreefficaciousthananger.

Theyoungman,ashefollowedhiswifeintothehall,wasconsciousofacurious reversal of mood. There was something about the luxury of theWelland house and the density of theWelland atmosphere, so chargedwithminute observances and exactions, that always stole into his system like anarcotic.Theheavycarpets,thewatchfulservants,theperpetuallyremindingtick of disciplined clocks, the perpetually renewed stack of cards andinvitationsonthehalltable,thewholechainoftyrannicaltriflesbindingonehourtothenext,andeachmemberofthehouseholdtoalltheothers,madeanylesssystematisedandaffluentexistenceseemunrealandprecarious.ButnowitwastheWellandhouse,andthelifehewasexpectedtoleadinit, thathadbecomeunrealand irrelevant,and thebriefsceneon theshore,whenhehadstoodirresolute,halfwaydownthebank,wasasclosetohimasthebloodinhisveins.

AllnighthelayawakeinthebigchintzbedroomatMay'sside,watchingthemoonlight slant along the carpet, and thinking of EllenOlenska drivinghomeacrossthegleamingbeachesbehindBeaufort'strotters.

XXII.

"ApartyfortheBlenkers—theBlenkers?"

Mr. Welland laid down his knife and fork and looked anxiously andincredulously across the luncheon-table at hiswife,who, adjusting her goldeye-glasses,readaloud,inthetoneofhighcomedy:

"Professor and Mrs. Emerson Sillerton request the pleasure of Mr. andMrs.Welland'scompanyatthemeetingoftheWednesdayAfternoonClubonAugust25that3o'clockpunctually.TomeetMrs.andtheMissesBlenker.

"RedGables,CatherineStreet.R.S.V.P."

"Goodgracious—"Mr.Wellandgasped, as if a second readinghadbeennecessarytobringthemonstrousabsurdityofthethinghometohim.

"PoorAmySillerton—younevercantellwhatherhusbandwilldonext,"Mrs.Wellandsighed."Isupposehe'sjustdiscoveredtheBlenkers."

ProfessorEmersonSillertonwas a thorn in the side ofNewport society;and a thorn that could not be plucked out, for it grew on a venerable andvenerated family tree. He was, as people said, a man who had had "everyadvantage."HisfatherwasSillertonJackson'suncle,hismotheraPennilowofBoston; on each side there waswealth and position, andmutual suitability.Nothing—as Mrs. Welland had often remarked—nothing on earth obligedEmersonSillertontobeanarchaeologist,orindeedaProfessorofanysort,ortoliveinNewportinwinter,ordoanyoftheotherrevolutionarythingsthathedid.Butatleast,ifhewasgoingtobreakwithtraditionandfloutsocietyintheface,heneednothavemarriedpoorAmyDagonet,whohadarighttoexpect"somethingdifferent,"andmoneyenoughtokeepherowncarriage.

No one in the Mingott set could understand why Amy Sillerton hadsubmitted so tamely to the eccentricities of a husbandwho filled the housewith long-hairedmenand short-hairedwomen, and,whenhe travelled, tookher toexplore tombs inYucatan insteadofgoing toParisor Italy.But theretheywere,setintheirways,andapparentlyunawarethattheyweredifferentfrom other people; and when they gave one of their dreary annual garden-partieseveryfamilyontheCliffs,becauseoftheSillerton-Pennilow-Dagonetconnection,hadtodrawlotsandsendanunwillingrepresentative.

"It'sawonder,"Mrs.Wellandremarked,"that theydidn'tchoose theCupRaceday!Doyouremember, twoyearsago, theirgivingapartyforablackman on the day of Julia Mingott's the dansant? Luckily this time there'snothingelsegoingonthatIknowof—forofcoursesomeofuswillhavetogo."

Mr.Welland sighed nervously. "'Some of us,' my dear—more than one?Threeo'clockissuchaveryawkwardhour.Ihavetobehereathalf-pastthreetotakemydrops:it'sreallynousetryingtofollowBencomb'snewtreatmentifIdon'tdoitsystematically;andifIjoinyoulater,ofcourseIshallmissmydrive."At the thoughthe laiddownhisknifeand forkagain, anda flushofanxietyrosetohisfinely-wrinkledcheek.

"There'snoreasonwhyyoushouldgoatall,mydear,"hiswifeansweredwithacheerfulnessthathadbecomeautomatic."IhavesomecardstoleaveattheotherendofBellevueAvenue,andI'lldropinatabouthalf-pastthreeandstay longenough tomakepoorAmyfeel that shehasn'tbeenslighted."Sheglancedhesitatinglyatherdaughter."AndifNewland'safternoonisprovidedforperhapsMaycandriveyououtwith theponies,and try theirnewrussetharness."

It was a principle in the Welland family that people's days and hoursshould be what Mrs. Welland called "provided for." The melancholypossibilityofhavingto"kill time"(especiallyfor thosewhodidnotcareforwhist or solitaire) was a vision that haunted her as the spectre of theunemployed haunts the philanthropist. Another of her principles was thatparentsshouldnever(atleastvisibly)interferewiththeplansoftheirmarriedchildren; and the difficulty of adjusting this respect forMay's independencewith the exigency ofMr.Welland's claims could be overcome only by theexerciseofaningenuitywhichleftnotasecondofMrs.Welland'sowntimeunprovidedfor.

"OfcourseI'lldrivewithPapa—I'msureNewlandwillfindsomethingtodo," May said, in a tone that gently reminded her husband of his lack ofresponse.ItwasacauseofconstantdistresstoMrs.Wellandthatherson-in-lawshowedsolittleforesightinplanninghisdays.Oftenalready,duringthefortnightthathehadpassedunderherroof,whensheenquiredhowhemeantto spend his afternoon, he had answered paradoxically: "Oh, I think for achangeI'lljustsaveitinsteadofspendingit—"andonce,whensheandMayhadhadtogoonalong-postponedroundofafternooncalls,hehadconfessedtohavinglainalltheafternoonunderarockonthebeachbelowthehouse.

"Newland never seems to look ahead," Mrs. Welland once ventured tocomplain to her daughter; andMay answered serenely: "No; but you see itdoesn'tmatter,becausewhenthere'snothingparticulartodohereadsabook."

"Ah, yes—like his father!" Mrs. Welland agreed, as if allowing for aninheritedoddity;andafterthatthequestionofNewland'sunemploymentwastacitlydropped.

Nevertheless,asthedayfortheSillertonreceptionapproached,Maybegantoshowanaturalsolicitudeforhiswelfare,andtosuggesta tennismatchat

theChiverses',orasailonJuliusBeaufort'scutter,asameansofatoningforhertemporarydesertion."Ishallbebackbysix,youknow,dear:Papaneverdrives later than that—" and she was not reassured till Archer said that hethoughtofhiringarun-aboutanddrivinguptheislandtoastud-farmtolookatasecondhorseforherbrougham.Theyhadbeenlookingforthishorseforsome time, and the suggestion was so acceptable that May glanced at hermotherasiftosay:"Youseeheknowshowtoplanouthistimeaswellasanyofus."

The idea of the stud-farm and the brougham horse had germinated inArcher'smindontheverydaywhentheEmersonSillertoninvitationhadfirstbeen mentioned; but he had kept it to himself as if there were somethingclandestine in the plan, and discoverymight prevent its execution. He had,however,takentheprecautiontoengageinadvancearunaboutwithapairofoldlivery-stabletrottersthatcouldstilldotheireighteenmilesonlevelroads;and at two o'clock, hastily deserting the luncheon-table, he sprang into thelightcarriageanddroveoff.

Thedaywasperfect.Abreeze from thenorthdrove little puffs ofwhitecloudacrossanultramarinesky,withabrightsearunningunder it.BellevueAvenuewasemptyatthathour,andafterdroppingthestable-ladatthecornerof Mill Street Archer turned down the Old Beach Road and drove acrossEastman'sBeach.

Hehadthefeelingofunexplainedexcitementwithwhich,onhalf-holidaysatschool,heusedtostartoffintotheunknown.Takinghispairataneasygait,he counted on reaching the stud-farm, which was not far beyond ParadiseRocks,before threeo'clock; so that, after lookingover thehorse (and tryinghimifheseemedpromising)hewouldstillhavefourgoldenhourstodisposeof.

AssoonasheheardoftheSillerton'spartyhehadsaidtohimselfthattheMarchionessMansonwouldcertainlycometoNewportwiththeBlenkers,andthatMadameOlenskamight again take the opportunity of spending the daywithhergrandmother.Atanyrate,theBlenkerhabitationwouldprobablybedeserted, and he would be able, without indiscretion, to satisfy a vaguecuriosity concerning it.Hewas not sure that hewanted to see theCountessOlenskaagain;buteversincehehadlookedatherfromthepathabovethebayhehadwanted,irrationallyandindescribably,toseetheplaceshewaslivingin,andtofollowthemovementsofherimaginedfigureashehadwatchedthereal one in the summer-house.The longingwaswith himday andnight, anincessantundefinablecraving,likethesuddenwhimofasickmanforfoodordrink once tasted and long since forgotten. He could not see beyond thecraving,orpicturewhatitmightleadto,forhewasnotconsciousofanywishto speak toMadameOlenska or to hear her voice.He simply felt that if he

couldcarryawaythevisionof thespotofearthshewalkedon,and thewaytheskyandseaenclosedit,therestoftheworldmightseemlessempty.

Whenhereachedthestud-farmaglanceshowedhimthatthehorsewasnotwhat he wanted; nevertheless he took a turn behind it in order to prove tohimselfthathewasnotinahurry.Butatthreeo'clockheshookoutthereinsoverthetrottersandturnedintotheby-roadsleadingtoPortsmouth.Thewindhaddroppedandafainthazeonthehorizonshowedthatafogwaswaitingtosteal up the Saconnet on the turn of the tide; but all about him fields andwoodsweresteepedingoldenlight.

Hedrovepastgrey-shingledfarm-houses inorchards,pasthay-fieldsandgrovesofoak,pastvillageswithwhitesteeplesrisingsharplyintothefadingsky;andatlast,afterstoppingtoaskthewayofsomemenatworkinafield,heturneddownalanebetweenhighbanksofgoldenrodandbrambles.Attheendofthelanewastheblueglimmeroftheriver;totheleft,standinginfrontofaclumpofoaksandmaples,hesawalongtumble-downhousewithwhitepaintpeelingfromitsclapboards.

Ontheroad-sidefacingthegatewaystoodoneoftheopenshedsinwhichtheNewEnglandersheltershisfarmingimplementsandvisitors"hitch"their"teams."Archer,jumpingdown,ledhispairintotheshed,andaftertyingthemto apost turned toward thehouse.Thepatchof lawnbefore it had relapsedinto ahay-field;but to the left anovergrownbox-garden full ofdahlias andrusty rose-bushes encircled a ghostly summer-house of trellis-work that hadoncebeenwhite, surmountedbyawoodenCupidwhohad losthisbowandarrowbutcontinuedtotakeineffectualaim.

Archerleanedforawhileagainstthegate.Noonewasinsight,andnotasound came from theopenwindowsof thehouse: a grizzledNewfoundlanddozing before the door seemed as ineffectual a guardian as the arrowlessCupid. It was strange to think that this place of silence and decay was thehomeoftheturbulentBlenkers;yetArcherwassurethathewasnotmistaken.

Foralongtimehestoodthere,contenttotakeinthescene,andgraduallyfallingunderitsdrowsyspell;butatlengthherousedhimselftothesenseofthe passing time. Should he look his fill and then drive away? He stoodirresolute,wishing suddenly to see the insideof thehouse, so thathemightpicture the room thatMadameOlenska sat in.Therewasnothing topreventhiswalkingup to thedoor and ringing thebell; if, ashe supposed, shewasaway with the rest of the party, he could easily give his name, and askpermissiontogointothesitting-roomtowriteamessage.

Butinstead,hecrossedthelawnandturnedtowardthebox-garden.Asheenteredithecaughtsightofsomethingbright-colouredinthesummer-house,andpresentlymade itout tobeapinkparasol.Theparasoldrewhim likea

magnet:hewassureitwashers.Hewentintothesummer-house,andsittingdownon the ricketyseatpickedup thesilken thingand lookedat itscarvedhandle,whichwasmadeofsomerarewoodthatgaveoutanaromaticscent.Archerliftedthehandletohislips.

Heheardarustleofskirtsagainstthebox,andsatmotionless,leaningonthe parasol handle with clasped hands, and letting the rustle come nearerwithoutliftinghiseyes.Hehadalwaysknownthatthismusthappen...

"Oh,Mr.Archer!"exclaimeda loudyoungvoice;andlookinguphesawbeforehimtheyoungestandlargestoftheBlenkergirls,blondeandblowsy,inbedraggledmuslin.Aredblotchononeofhercheeksseemedtoshowthatithadrecentlybeenpressedagainstapillow,andherhalf-awakenedeyesstaredathimhospitablybutconfusedly.

"Gracious—wheredidyoudrop from? Imusthavebeen soundasleep inthe hammock. Everybody else has gone to Newport. Did you ring?" sheincoherentlyenquired.

Archer'sconfusionwasgreaterthanhers."I—no—thatis,Iwasjustgoingto. I had to comeup the island to see about a horse, and I droveover on achanceoffindingMrs.Blenkerandyourvisitors.Butthehouseseemedempty—soIsatdowntowait."

Miss Blenker, shaking off the fumes of sleep, looked at him withincreasing interest. "The house IS empty. Mother's not here, or theMarchioness—or anybody but me." Her glance became faintly reproachful."Didn'tyouknowthatProfessorandMrs.Sillertonaregivingagarden-partyformotherandallofusthisafternoon?ItwastoounluckythatIcouldn'tgo;but I've had a sore throat, and mother was afraid of the drive home thisevening.Didyoueverknowanythingsodisappointing?Ofcourse,"sheaddedgaily,"Ishouldn'thavemindedhalfasmuchifI'dknownyouwerecoming."

Symptoms of a lumbering coquetry became visible in her, and Archerfound the strength to break in: "But Madame Olenska—has she gone toNewporttoo?"

MissBlenkerlookedathimwithsurprise."MadameOlenska—didn'tyouknowshe'dbeencalledaway?"

"Calledaway?—"

"Oh,mybestparasol!IlentittothatgooseofaKatie,becauseitmatchedherribbons,andthecarelessthingmusthavedroppedithere.WeBlenkersareall like that ... real Bohemians!" Recovering the sunshade with a powerfulhandsheunfurleditandsuspendeditsrosydomeaboveherhead."Yes,Ellenwascalledawayyesterday: she letsuscallherEllen,youknow.A telegram

camefromBoston:shesaidshemightbegonefortwodays.IdoLOVEthewayshedoesherhair,don'tyou?"MissBlenkerrambledon.

Archercontinuedtostarethroughherasthoughshehadbeentransparent.All he saw was the trumpery parasol that arched its pinkness above hergigglinghead.

After amoment he ventured: "You don't happen to knowwhyMadameOlenskawenttoBoston?Ihopeitwasnotonaccountofbadnews?"

MissBlenkertookthiswithacheerfulincredulity."Oh,Idon'tbelieveso.She didn't tell us what was in the telegram. I think she didn't want theMarchionesstoknow.She'ssoromantic-looking,isn'tshe?Doesn'tsheremindyouofMrs.Scott-Siddonswhenshereads 'LadyGeraldine'sCourtship'?Didyouneverhearher?"

Archer was dealing hurriedly with crowding thoughts. His whole futureseemed suddenly to be unrolled before him; and passing down its endlessemptinesshesawthedwindlingfigureofamantowhomnothingwasevertohappen. He glanced about him at the unpruned garden, the tumble-downhouse,andtheoak-groveunderwhichtheduskwasgathering.Ithadseemedsoexactly theplace inwhichheought tohavefoundMadameOlenska;andshewasfaraway,andeventhepinksunshadewasnothers...

He frowned and hesitated. "You don't know, I suppose—I shall be inBostontomorrow.IfIcouldmanagetoseeher—"

He felt that Miss Blenker was losing interest in him, though her smilepersisted. "Oh, of course; how lovely of you! She's staying at the ParkerHouse;itmustbehorriblethereinthisweather."

After that Archer was but intermittently aware of the remarks theyexchanged. He could only remember stoutly resisting her entreaty that heshouldawaitthereturningfamilyandhavehighteawiththembeforehedrovehome.Atlength,withhishostessstillathisside,hepassedoutofrangeofthewoodenCupid,unfastenedhishorsesanddroveoff.AttheturnofthelanehesawMissBlenkerstandingatthegateandwavingthepinkparasol.

XXIII.

Thenextmorning,whenArchergotoutoftheFallRivertrain,heemergeduponasteamingmidsummerBoston.Thestreetsnearthestationwerefullofthe smellofbeerandcoffeeanddecaying fruit anda shirt-sleevedpopulacemoved through themwith the intimate abandonofboardersgoingdown the

passagetothebathroom.

ArcherfoundacabanddrovetotheSomersetClubforbreakfast.Eventhefashionablequartershad theairofuntidydomesticity towhichnoexcessofheat everdegrades theEuropeancities.Care-takers incalico loungedon thedoor-stepsofthewealthy,andtheCommonlookedlikeapleasure-groundonthemorrowofaMasonicpicnic.IfArcherhadtriedtoimagineEllenOlenskainimprobablesceneshecouldnothavecalledupanyintowhichitwasmoredifficulttofitherthanthisheat-prostratedanddesertedBoston.

Hebreakfastedwithappetiteandmethod,beginningwithasliceofmelon,and studying a morning paper while he waited for his toast and scrambledeggs.AnewsenseofenergyandactivityhadpossessedhimeversincehehadannouncedtoMaythenightbeforethathehadbusinessinBoston,andshouldtake the Fall River boat that night and go on to New York the followingevening.Ithadalwaysbeenunderstoodthathewouldreturntotownearlyintheweek, andwhen he got back fromhis expedition to Portsmouth a letterfromtheoffice,which fatehadconspicuouslyplacedonacornerof thehalltable,sufficedtojustifyhissuddenchangeofplan.Hewasevenashamedoftheeasewithwhich thewhole thinghadbeendone: it remindedhim, foranuncomfortable moment, of Lawrence Lefferts's masterly contrivances forsecuringhisfreedom.Butthisdidnotlongtroublehim,forhewasnotinananalyticmood.

After breakfast he smoked a cigarette and glanced over theCommercialAdvertiser.Whilehewasthusengagedtwoorthreemenheknewcamein,andtheusualgreetingswereexchanged:itwasthesameworldafterall,thoughhehad such a queer sense of having slipped through the meshes of time andspace.

He lookedathiswatch,andfinding that itwashalf-pastninegotupandwent into the writing-room. There he wrote a few lines, and ordered amessengertotakeacabtotheParkerHouseandwaitfortheanswer.HethensatdownbehindanothernewspaperandtriedtocalculatehowlongitwouldtakeacabtogettotheParkerHouse.

"The ladywasout, sir,"he suddenlyheardawaiter'svoiceathis elbow;andhestammered:"Out?—"asifitwereawordinastrangelanguage.

Hegotupandwentintothehall.Itmustbeamistake:shecouldnotbeoutatthathour.Heflushedwithangerathisownstupidity:whyhadhenotsentthenoteassoonashearrived?

He found his hat and stick and went forth into the street. The city hadsuddenlybecomeasstrangeandvastandemptyasifhewereatravellerfromdistant lands. For a moment he stood on the door-step hesitating; then he

decided to go to the Parker House. What if the messenger had beenmisinformed,andshewerestillthere?

HestartedtowalkacrosstheCommon;andonthefirstbench,underatree,hesawhersitting.Shehadagreysilksunshadeoverherhead—howcouldheeverhaveimaginedherwithapinkone?Asheapproachedhewasstruckbyherlistlessattitude:shesatthereasifshehadnothingelsetodo.Hesawherdroopingprofile,andtheknotofhairfastenedlowintheneckunderherdarkhat,andthelongwrinkledgloveonthehandthatheldthesunshade.Hecameasteportwonearer,andsheturnedandlookedathim.

"Oh"—she said; and for the first time he noticed a startled look on herface; but in another moment it gave way to a slow smile of wonder andcontentment.

"Oh"—shemurmuredagain,onadifferentnote,ashestoodlookingdownather;andwithoutrisingshemadeaplaceforhimonthebench.

"I'm here on business—just got here," Archer explained; and, withoutknowingwhy, he suddenly began to feign astonishment at seeing her. "Butwhatonearthareyoudoinginthiswilderness?"Hehadreallynoideawhathewassaying:hefeltasifhewereshoutingatheracrossendlessdistances,andshemightvanishagainbeforehecouldovertakeher.

"I?Oh,I'mhereonbusinesstoo,"sheanswered,turningherheadtowardhim so that theywere face to face. Thewords hardly reached him: hewasaware only of her voice, and of the startling fact that not an echo of it hadremainedinhismemory.Hehadnotevenrememberedthatitwaslow-pitched,withafaintroughnessontheconsonants.

"You do your hair differently," he said, his heart beating as if he hadutteredsomethingirrevocable.

"Differently? No—it's only that I do it as best I can when I'm withoutNastasia."

"Nastasia;butisn'tshewithyou?"

"No;I'malone.Fortwodaysitwasnotworthwhiletobringher."

"You'realone—attheParkerHouse?"

She looked at himwith a flash of her oldmalice. "Does it strike you asdangerous?"

"No;notdangerous—"

"Butunconventional?Isee;Isupposeitis."Sheconsideredamoment."Ihadn't thought of it, because I've just done something so much moreunconventional." The faint tinge of irony lingered in her eyes. "I've just

refusedtotakebackasumofmoney—thatbelongedtome."

Archer sprang up and moved a step or two away. She had furled herparasol and sat absently drawing patterns on the gravel. Presently he camebackandstoodbeforeher.

"Someone—hascomeheretomeetyou?"

"Yes."

"Withthisoffer?"

Shenodded.

"Andyourefused—becauseoftheconditions?"

"Irefused,"shesaidafteramoment.

Hesatdownbyheragain."Whatweretheconditions?"

"Oh, theywere not onerous: just to sit at the head of his table now andthen."

Therewas another interval of silence.Archer's heart had slammed itselfshutinthequeerwayithad,andhesatvainlygropingforaword.

"Hewantsyouback—atanyprice?"

"Well—aconsiderableprice.Atleastthesumisconsiderableforme."

Hepausedagain,beatingaboutthequestionhefelthemustput.

"Itwastomeethimherethatyoucame?"

Shestared,andthenburstintoalaugh."Meethim—myhusband?HERE?Atthisseasonhe'salwaysatCowesorBaden."

"Hesentsomeone?"

"Yes."

"Withaletter?"

Sheshookherhead."No;justamessage.Heneverwrites.Idon'tthinkI'vehadmore than one letter fromhim."The allusion brought the colour to hercheek,anditreflecteditselfinArcher'svividblush.

"Whydoesheneverwrite?"

"Whyshouldhe?Whatdoesonehavesecretariesfor?"

Theyoungman'sblushdeepened.Shehadpronouncedthewordasifithadnomoresignificancethananyotherinhervocabulary.Foramomentitwasonthe tip of his tongue to ask: "Did he send his secretary, then?" But theremembranceofCountOlenski'sonlylettertohiswifewastoopresenttohim.

Hepausedagain,andthentookanotherplunge.

"Andtheperson?"—

"The emissary? The emissary," Madame Olenska rejoined, still smiling,"might,forallIcare,haveleftalready;buthehasinsistedonwaitingtillthisevening...incase...onthechance..."

"Andyoucameoutheretothinkthechanceover?"

"I cameout toget abreathof air.Thehotel's too stifling. I'm taking theafternoontrainbacktoPortsmouth."

Theysatsilent,notlookingateachother,butstraightaheadatthepeoplepassingalongthepath.Finallysheturnedhereyesagaintohisfaceandsaid:"You'renotchanged."

Hefelt likeanswering:"Iwas,tillIsawyouagain;"butinsteadhestoodupabruptlyandglancedabouthimattheuntidyswelteringpark.

"This ishorrible.Why shouldn'twegoout a littleon thebay?There's abreeze, and it will be cooler. We might take the steamboat down to PointArley." She glanced up at him hesitatingly and hewent on: "On aMondaymorning there won't be anybody on the boat. My train doesn't leave tillevening: I'm going back to New York. Why shouldn't we?" he insisted,looking down at her; and suddenly he broke out: "Haven't we done all wecould?"

"Oh"—she murmured again. She stood up and reopened her sunshade,glancingaboutherasiftotakecounselofthescene,andassureherselfoftheimpossibility of remaining in it. Then her eyes returned to his face. "Youmustn'tsaythingslikethattome,"shesaid.

"I'llsayanythingyoulike;ornothing.Iwon'topenmymouthunlessyoutellmeto.Whatharmcanitdotoanybody?AllIwantistolistentoyou,"hestammered.

Shedrewouta littlegold-facedwatchonanenamelledchain."Oh,don'tcalculate,"hebrokeout;"givemetheday!Iwanttogetyouawayfromthatman.Atwhattimewashecoming?"

Hercolourroseagain."Ateleven."

"Thenyoumustcomeatonce."

"Youneedn'tbeafraid—ifIdon'tcome."

"Noryoueither—ifyoudo.IswearIonlywanttohearaboutyou,toknowwhat you've been doing. It's a hundred years since we've met—it may beanotherhundredbeforewemeetagain."

She still wavered, her anxious eyes on his face. "Why didn't you comedowntothebeachtofetchme,thedayIwasatGranny's?"sheasked.

"Becauseyoudidn't look round—becauseyoudidn'tknowIwas there. IsworeIwouldn'tunlessyoulookedround."Helaughedasthechildishnessoftheconfessionstruckhim.

"ButIdidn'tlookroundonpurpose."

"Onpurpose?"

"Iknewyouwerethere;whenyoudroveinIrecognisedtheponies.SoIwentdowntothebeach."

"Togetawayfrommeasfarasyoucould?"

Sherepeatedinalowvoice:"TogetawayfromyouasfarasIcould."

Helaughedoutagain,thistimeinboyishsatisfaction."Well,youseeit'snouse.Imayaswelltellyou,"headded,"thatthebusinessIcamehereforwasjusttofindyou.But,lookhere,wemuststartorweshallmissourboat."

"Ourboat?"Shefrownedperplexedly,andthensmiled."Oh,butImustgobacktothehotelfirst:Imustleaveanote—"

"Asmanynotesasyouplease.Youcanwritehere."Hedrewoutanote-caseandoneof thenewstylographicpens."I'veevengotanenvelope—youseehoweverything'spredestined!There—steadythethingonyourknee,andI'll get the pen going in a second. They have to be humoured; wait—"Hebanged the hand that held the pen against the back of the bench. "It's likejerkingdownthemercuryinathermometer:justatrick.Nowtry—"

Shelaughed,andbendingoverthesheetofpaperwhichhehadlaidonhisnote-case, began to write. Archer walked away a few steps, staring withradiantunseeingeyesatthepassersby,who,intheirturn,pausedtostareattheunwontedsightofafashionably-dressedladywritinganoteonherkneeonabenchintheCommon.

MadameOlenskaslippedthesheetintotheenvelope,wroteanameonit,andputitintoherpocket.Thenshetoostoodup.

TheywalkedbacktowardBeaconStreet,andneartheclubArchercaughtsight of the plush-lined "herdic" which had carried his note to the ParkerHouse,andwhosedriverwasreposingfromthiseffortbybathinghisbrowatthecornerhydrant.

"Itoldyoueverythingwaspredestined!Here'sacabforus.Yousee!"Theylaughed,astonishedat themiracleofpickingupapublicconveyanceat thathour,andinthatunlikelyspot,inacitywherecab-standswerestilla"foreign"novelty.

Archer,lookingathiswatch,sawthattherewastimetodrivetotheParkerHouse before going to the steamboat landing. They rattled through the hotstreetsanddrewupatthedoorofthehotel.

Archerheldouthishandfor the letter."Shall I take it in?"heasked;butMadameOlenska, shakingherhead, sprangoutanddisappeared through theglazeddoors. Itwasbarelyhalf-past ten;butwhat if theemissary, impatientfor her reply, and not knowing how else to employ his time, were alreadyseated among the travellers with cooling drinks at their elbows of whomArcherhadcaughtaglimpseasshewentin?

Hewaited, pacingup anddownbefore theherdic.ASicilianyouthwitheyeslikeNastasia'sofferedtoshinehisboots,andanIrishmatrontosellhimpeaches; and every fewmoments the doors opened to let out hotmenwithstrawhatstiltedfarback,whoglancedathimastheywentby.Hemarvelledthatthedoorshouldopensooften,andthatallthepeopleitletoutshouldlooksolikeeachother,andsolikealltheotherhotmenwho,atthathour,throughthelengthandbreadthoftheland,werepassingcontinuouslyinandoutoftheswingingdoorsofhotels.

Andthen,suddenly,cameafacethathecouldnotrelatetotheotherfaces.Hecaughtbutaflashofit,forhispacingshadcarriedhimtothefarthestpointofhisbeat,anditwasinturningbacktothehotelthathesaw,inagroupoftypical countenances—the lank and weary, the round and surprised, thelantern-jawedandmild—thisotherfacethatwassomanymorethingsatonce,and things so different. It was that of a young man, pale too, and half-extinguished by the heat, or worry, or both, but somehow, quicker, vivider,more conscious; or perhaps seeming so because hewas so different.Archerhungamomentonathinthreadofmemory,butitsnappedandfloatedoffwiththedisappearingface—apparentlythatofsomeforeignbusinessman,lookingdoublyforeigninsuchasetting.Hevanishedinthestreamofpassersby,andArcherresumedhispatrol.

Hedidnotcaretobeseenwatchinhandwithinviewofthehotel,andhisunaided reckoningof the lapseof time ledhim toconclude that, ifMadameOlenskawassolonginreappearing,itcouldonlybebecauseshehadmettheemissaryandbeenwaylaidbyhim.AtthethoughtArcher'sapprehensionrosetoanguish.

"Ifshedoesn'tcomesoonI'llgoinandfindher,"hesaid.

The doors swung open again and shewas at his side. They got into theherdic, andas it droveoffhe tookouthiswatchand saw that shehadbeenabsent just three minutes. In the clatter of loose windows that made talkimpossibletheybumpedoverthedisjointedcobblestonestothewharf.

*

Seatedsidebysideonabenchofthehalf-emptyboattheyfoundthattheyhadhardlyanything tosay toeachother,or rather thatwhat theyhad tosaycommunicated itself best in the blessed silence of their release and theirisolation.

As thepaddle-wheelsbegan to turn, andwharvesand shipping to recedethroughtheveilofheat,itseemedtoArcherthateverythingintheoldfamiliarworldofhabitwasrecedingalso.HelongedtoaskMadameOlenskaifshedidnot have the same feeling: the feeling that theywere starting on some longvoyage fromwhich theymight never return.But hewas afraid to say it, oranything else thatmight disturb the delicate balance of her trust in him. Inreality he had nowish to betray that trust. There had been days and nightswhen thememory of their kiss had burned and burned on his lips; the daybeforeeven,on thedrive toPortsmouth, the thoughtofherhad run throughhim like fire;butnow that shewasbesidehim,and theyweredrifting forthinto this unknown world, they seemed to have reached the kind of deepernearnessthatatouchmaysunder.

Astheboatlefttheharbourandturnedseawardabreezestirredaboutthemandthebaybrokeupintolongoilyundulations,thenintoripplestippedwithspray.Thefogofsultrinessstillhungoverthecity,butaheadlayafreshworldof ruffled waters, and distant promontories with light-houses in the sun.Madame Olenska, leaning back against the boat-rail, drank in the coolnessbetweenparted lips.Shehadwounda longveilaboutherhat,but it leftherface uncovered, and Archer was struck by the tranquil gaiety of herexpression.Sheseemedtotaketheiradventureasamatterofcourse,andtobeneitherinfearofunexpectedencounters,nor(whatwasworse)undulyelatedbytheirpossibility.

Inthebaredining-roomoftheinn,whichhehadhopedtheywouldhavetothemselves, they found a strident party of innocent-looking youngmen andwomen—school-teachersonaholiday, the landlord told them—andArcher'sheartsankattheideaofhavingtotalkthroughtheirnoise.

"This is hopeless—I'll ask for a private room," he said; and MadameOlenska,withoutofferinganyobjection,waitedwhilehewentinsearchofit.Theroomopenedonalongwoodenverandah,withtheseacominginat thewindows.Itwasbareandcool,withatablecoveredwithacoarsecheckeredclothandadornedbyabottleofpicklesandablueberrypieunderacage.Nomore guileless-looking cabinet particulier ever offered its shelter to aclandestinecouple:Archerfanciedhesawthesenseof itsreassurancein thefaintlyamusedsmilewithwhichMadameOlenskasatdownoppositetohim.Awomanwhohadrunawayfromherhusband—andreputedlywithanother

man—was likely to havemastered the art of taking things for granted; butsomething in thequalityofhercomposure took theedge fromhis irony.Bybeingsoquiet,sounsurprisedandsosimpleshehadmanagedtobrushawaythe conventions andmake him feel that to seek to be alonewas the naturalthingfortwooldfriendswhohadsomuchtosaytoeachother....

XXIV.

Theylunchedslowlyandmeditatively,withmuteintervalsbetweenrushesof talk; for, the spell once broken, they hadmuch to say, and yetmomentswhen sayingbecame themere accompaniment to longduologuesof silence.Archer kept the talk from his own affairs, not with conscious intention butbecause he did not want tomiss a word of her history; and leaning on thetable,herchinrestingonherclaspedhands,shetalkedtohimoftheyearandahalfsincetheyhadmet.

Shehadgrowntiredofwhatpeoplecalled"society";NewYorkwaskind,it was almost oppressively hospitable; she should never forget the way inwhich ithadwelcomedherback;butafter the first flushofnovelty shehadfoundherself,asshephrasedit, too"different"tocareforthethingsitcaredabout—andsoshehaddecidedtotryWashington,whereonewassupposedtomeetmorevarietiesofpeopleandofopinion.Andon thewhole she shouldprobablysettledowninWashington,andmakeahomethereforpoorMedora,whohadwornoutthepatienceofallherotherrelationsjustatthetimewhenshemostneededlookingafterandprotectingfrommatrimonialperils.

"ButDr.Carver—aren'tyouafraidofDr.Carver?Ihearhe'sbeenstayingwithyouattheBlenkers'."

She smiled. "Oh, the Carver danger is over. Dr. Carver is a very cleverman.Hewantsarichwifetofinancehisplans,andMedoraissimplyagoodadvertisementasaconvert."

"Aconverttowhat?"

"To all sorts of new and crazy social schemes. But, do you know, theyinterest me more than the blind conformity to tradition—somebody else'stradition—that I see among our own friends. It seems stupid to havediscovered America only to make it into a copy of another country." Shesmiledacross the table."DoyousupposeChristopherColumbuswouldhavetakenallthattroublejusttogototheOperawiththeSelfridgeMerrys?"

Archer changed colour. "And Beaufort—do you say these things toBeaufort?"heaskedabruptly.

"Ihaven'tseenhimforalongtime.ButIusedto;andheunderstands."

"Ah, it's what I've always told you; you don't like us. And you likeBeaufortbecausehe'ssounlikeus."Helookedaboutthebareroomandoutatthe bare beach and the row of stark white village houses strung along theshore. "We're damnably dull. We've no character, no colour, no variety.—Iwonder,"hebrokeout,"whyyoudon'tgoback?"

Her eyes darkened, and he expected an indignant rejoinder. But she satsilent, as if thinkingoverwhathehad said, andhegrew frightened lest sheshouldanswerthatshewonderedtoo.

Atlengthshesaid:"Ibelieveit'sbecauseofyou."

Itwasimpossibletomaketheconfessionmoredispassionately,orinatonelessencouragingtothevanityofthepersonaddressed.Archerreddenedtothetemples,butdarednotmoveorspeak: itwasas ifherwordshadbeensomerarebutterflythattheleastmotionmightdriveoffonstartledwings,butthatmightgatheraflockaboutitifitwereleftundisturbed.

"Atleast,"shecontinued,"itwasyouwhomademeunderstandthatunderthedullnesstherearethingssofineandsensitiveanddelicatethateventhoseImostcaredforinmyotherlifelookcheapincomparison.Idon'tknowhowtoexplainmyself"—shedrew togetherher troubledbrows—"but it seemsas ifI'dneverbeforeunderstoodwithhowmuchthatishardandshabbyandbasethemostexquisitepleasuresmaybepaid."

"Exquisite pleasures—it's something to have had them!" he felt likeretorting;buttheappealinhereyeskepthimsilent.

"Iwant,"shewenton,"tobeperfectlyhonestwithyou—andwithmyself.ForalongtimeI'vehopedthischancewouldcome:thatImighttellyouhowyou'vehelpedme,whatyou'vemadeofme—"

Archer sat staring beneath frowning brows. He interrupted her with alaugh."Andwhatdoyoumakeoutthatyou'vemadeofme?"

Shepaledalittle."Ofyou?"

"Yes:forI'mofyourmakingmuchmorethanyoueverwereofmine.I'mthemanwhomarriedonewomanbecauseanotheronetoldhimto."

Her paleness turned to a fugitive flush. "I thought—you promised—youwerenottosaysuchthingstoday."

"Ah—how like a woman! None of you will ever see a bad businessthrough!"

Sheloweredhervoice."ISitabadbusiness—forMay?"

Hestoodinthewindow,drummingagainsttheraisedsash,andfeelinginevery fibre the wistful tenderness with which she had spoken her cousin'sname.

"For that's the thingwe've always got to think of—haven'twe—byyourownshowing?"sheinsisted.

"Myownshowing?"heechoed,hisblankeyesstillonthesea.

"Or if not," she continued, pursuing her own thought with a painfulapplication,"ifit'snotworthwhiletohavegivenup,tohavemissedthings,sothatothersmaybesavedfromdisillusionmentandmisery—theneverythingIcamehomefor,everythingthatmademyother lifeseembycontrastsobareandsopoorbecausenoonetheretookaccountofthem—allthesethingsareashamoradream—"

Heturnedaroundwithoutmovingfromhisplace."Andinthatcasethere'snoreasononearthwhyyoushouldn'tgoback?"heconcludedforher.

Hereyeswereclingingtohimdesperately."Oh,IStherenoreason?"

"Notifyoustakedyourallonthesuccessofmymarriage.Mymarriage,"he said savagely, "isn't going to be a sight to keep youhere." Shemade noanswer,andhewenton:"What'stheuse?Yougavememyfirstglimpseofareallife,andatthesamemomentyouaskedmetogoonwithashamone.It'sbeyondhumanenduring—that'sall."

"Oh,don'tsaythat;whenI'menduringit!"sheburstout,hereyesfilling.

Herarmshaddroppedalongthetable,andshesatwithherfaceabandonedtohisgazeasifintherecklessnessofadesperateperil.Thefaceexposedherasmuchas if it hadbeenherwholeperson,with the soulbehind it:Archerstooddumb,overwhelmedbywhatitsuddenlytoldhim.

"Youtoo—oh,allthistime,youtoo?"

For answer, she let the tears on her lids overflow and run slowlydownward.

Halfthewidthoftheroomwasstillbetweenthem,andneithermadeanyshowofmoving.Archerwasconsciousofacuriousindifferencetoherbodilypresence:hewouldhardlyhavebeenawareofit ifoneofthehandsshehadflungoutonthetablehadnotdrawnhisgazeasontheoccasionwhen,inthelittleTwenty-thirdStreethouse,hehadkepthiseyeonitinordernottolookatherface.Nowhisimaginationspunaboutthehandasabouttheedgeofavortex;butstillhemadenoefforttodrawnearer.Hehadknownthelovethatis fed on caresses and feeds them; but this passion thatwas closer than hisboneswasnottobesuperficiallysatisfied.Hisoneterrorwastodoanythingwhichmightefface thesoundand impressionofherwords;hisone thought,

thatheshouldneveragainfeelquitealone.

Butafteramomentthesenseofwasteandruinovercamehim.Theretheywere, close together and safe and shut in; yet so chained to their separatedestiniesthattheymightaswellhavebeenhalftheworldapart.

"What'stheuse—whenyouwillgoback?"hebrokeout,agreathopelessHOWONEARTHCANIKEEPYOU?cryingouttoherbeneathhiswords.

Shesatmotionless,withloweredlids."Oh—Ishan'tgoyet!"

"Notyet?Sometime,then?Sometimethatyoualreadyforesee?"

Atthatsheraisedherclearesteyes."Ipromiseyou:notaslongasyouholdout.Notaslongaswecanlookstraightateachotherlikethis."

Hedroppedintohischair.Whatheranswerreallysaidwas:"Ifyouliftafingeryou'lldrivemeback:backtoalltheabominationsyouknowof,andallthe temptations you half guess." He understood it as clearly as if she hadutteredthewords,andthethoughtkepthimanchoredtohissideofthetableinakindofmovedandsacredsubmission.

"Whatalifeforyou!—"hegroaned.

"Oh—aslongasit'sapartofyours."

"Andmineapartofyours?"

Shenodded.

"Andthat'stobeall—foreitherofus?"

"Well;itISall,isn'tit?"

At thathesprangup,forgettingeverythingbut thesweetnessofherface.Sherosetoo,notasiftomeethimortofleefromhim,butquietly,asthoughtheworstofthetaskweredoneandshehadonlytowait;soquietlythat,ashecameclose,heroutstretchedhandsactednotasacheckbutasaguidetohim.Theyfellintohis,whileherarms,extendedbutnotrigid,kepthimfarenoughofftolethersurrenderedfacesaytherest.

They may have stood in that way for a long time, or only for a fewmoments;butitwaslongenoughforhersilencetocommunicateallshehadtosay,andforhimtofeel thatonlyonethingmattered.Hemustdonothingtomakethismeetingtheirlast;hemustleavetheirfutureinhercare,askingonlythatsheshouldkeepfastholdofit.

"Don't—don'tbeunhappy,"shesaid,withabreakinhervoice,asshedrewherhandsaway;andheanswered:"Youwon'tgoback—youwon'tgoback?"asifitweretheonepossibilityhecouldnotbear.

"Iwon'tgoback,"shesaid;andturningawaysheopenedthedoorandledthewayintothepublicdining-room.

The strident school-teachers were gathering up their possessionspreparatorytoastragglingflighttothewharf;acrossthebeachlaythewhitesteam-boatat thepier;andoverthesunlitwatersBostonloomedinalineofhaze.

XXV.

Once more on the boat, and in the presence of others, Archer felt atranquillityofspiritthatsurprisedasmuchasitsustainedhim.

Theday,according toanycurrentvaluation,hadbeena rather ridiculousfailure;hehadnotsomuchastouchedMadameOlenska'shandwithhislips,or extracted one word from her that gave promise of farther opportunities.Nevertheless, for a man sick with unsatisfied love, and parting for anindefinite period from the object of his passion, he felt himself almosthumiliatingly calm and comforted. It was the perfect balance she had heldbetween their loyalty to others and their honesty to themselves that had sostirredandyettranquillizedhim;abalancenotartfullycalculated,ashertearsand her falterings showed, but resulting naturally from her unabashedsincerity.Itfilledhimwithatenderawe,nowthedangerwasover,andmadehimthankthefatesthatnopersonalvanity,nosenseofplayingapartbeforesophisticatedwitnesses, had tempted him to tempt her. Even after they hadclaspedhandsforgood-byeattheFallRiverstation,andhehadturnedawayalone,theconvictionremainedwithhimofhavingsavedoutoftheirmeetingmuchmorethanhehadsacrificed.

He wandered back to the club, and went and sat alone in the desertedlibrary,turningandturningoverinhisthoughtseveryseparatesecondoftheirhours together. It was clear to him, and it grew more clear under closerscrutiny,thatifsheshouldfinallydecideonreturningtoEurope—returningtoherhusband—itwouldnot bebecauseher old life temptedher, evenon thenew terms offered. No: she would go only if she felt herself becoming atemptation to Archer, a temptation to fall away from the standard they hadbothsetup.Herchoicewouldbetostaynearhimaslongashedidnotaskherto come nearer; and it depended on himself to keep her just there, safe butsecluded.

Inthetrainthesethoughtswerestillwithhim.Theyenclosedhiminakindof golden haze, through which the faces about him looked remote and

indistinct:hehadafeelingthatifhespoketohisfellow-travellerstheywouldnot understand what he was saying. In this state of abstraction he foundhimself, thefollowingmorning,wakingtotherealityofastiflingSeptemberdayinNewYork.Theheat-witheredfacesinthelongtrainstreamedpasthim,andhecontinuedtostareatthemthroughthesamegoldenblur;butsuddenly,asheleftthestation,oneofthefacesdetacheditself,camecloserandforceditselfuponhisconsciousness. Itwas,ashe instantlyrecalled, thefaceof theyoungmanhehadseen,thedaybefore,passingoutoftheParkerHouse,andhadnotedasnotconformingtotype,asnothavinganAmericanhotelface.

Thesamethingstruckhimnow;andagainhebecameawareofadimstirof former associations. The young man stood looking about him with thedazed air of the foreigner flung upon the harshmercies ofAmerican travel;thenheadvanced towardArcher, liftedhishat,andsaid inEnglish:"Surely,Monsieur,wemetinLondon?"

"Ah, tobesure: inLondon!"Archergraspedhishandwithcuriosityandsympathy."SoyouDIDgethere,afterall?"heexclaimed,castingawonderingeye on the astute and haggard little countenance of young Carfry's Frenchtutor.

"Oh, I got here—yes,"M. Riviere smiled with drawn lips. "But not forlong; I return the day after tomorrow."He stoodgraspinghis light valise inone neatly gloved hand, and gazing anxiously, perplexedly, almostappealingly,intoArcher'sface.

"Iwonder,Monsieur, since I'vehad thegood luck to runacrossyou, if Imight—"

"Iwasjustgoingtosuggestit:cometoluncheon,won'tyou?Downtown,Imean:ifyou'lllookmeupinmyofficeI'lltakeyoutoaverydecentrestaurantinthatquarter."

M.Rivierewasvisiblytouchedandsurprised."You'retookind.ButIwasonlygoingtoaskifyouwouldtellmehowtoreachsomesortofconveyance.Therearenoporters,andnoonehereseemstolisten—"

"I know: our American stationsmust surprise you.When you ask for aportertheygiveyouchewing-gum.Butifyou'llcomealongI'llextricateyou;andyoumustreallylunchwithme,youknow."

The youngman, after a just perceptible hesitation, replied, with profusethanks, and in a tone that did not carry complete conviction, that he wasalreadyengaged;butwhen theyhad reached thecomparative reassuranceofthestreetheaskedifhemightcallthatafternoon.

Archer,ateaseinthemidsummerleisureoftheoffice,fixedanhourand

scribbled his address,which the Frenchman pocketedwith reiterated thanksandawideflourishofhishat.Ahorse-carreceivedhim,andArcherwalkedaway.

PunctuallyatthehourM.Riviereappeared,shaved,smoothed-out,butstillunmistakablydrawnandserious.Archerwasaloneinhisoffice,andtheyoungman,beforeacceptingtheseatheproffered,beganabruptly:"IbelieveIsawyou,sir,yesterdayinBoston."

Thestatementwasinsignificantenough,andArcherwasabouttoframeanassentwhenhiswordswerecheckedbysomethingmysteriousyetilluminatinginhisvisitor'sinsistentgaze.

"It is extraordinary, very extraordinary,"M. Riviere continued, "that weshouldhavemetinthecircumstancesinwhichIfindmyself."

"What circumstances?" Archer asked, wondering a little crudely if heneededmoney.

M.Rivierecontinuedtostudyhimwithtentativeeyes."Ihavecome,nottolookforemployment,asIspokeofdoingwhenwelastmet,butonaspecialmission—"

"Ah—!" Archer exclaimed. In a flash the two meetings had connectedthemselves in his mind. He paused to take in the situation thus suddenlylightedupforhim,andM.Rivierealsoremainedsilent,asifawarethatwhathehadsaidwasenough.

"Aspecialmission,"Archeratlengthrepeated.

The young Frenchman, opening his palms, raised them slightly, and thetwo men continued to look at each other across the office-desk till Archerrousedhimself to say: "Do sitdown";whereuponM.Rivierebowed, tookadistantchair,andagainwaited.

"Itwasaboutthismissionthatyouwantedtoconsultme?"Archerfinallyasked.

M.Rivierebenthishead."Notinmyownbehalf:onthatscoreI—Ihavefully dealtwithmyself. I should like—if Imay—to speak to you about theCountessOlenska."

Archerhadknown for the last fewminutes that thewordswerecoming;butwhen they came they sent theblood rushing tohis temples as if hehadbeencaughtbyabent-backbranchinathicket.

"Andonwhosebehalf,"hesaid,"doyouwishtodothis?"

M.Rivieremet thequestionsturdily. "Well—ImightsayHERS, if itdidnotsoundlikealiberty.ShallIsayinstead:onbehalfofabstractjustice?"

Archerconsideredhimironically."Inotherwords:youareCountOlenski'smessenger?"

He saw his blush more darkly reflected in M. Riviere's sallowcountenance. "Not toYOU,Monsieur. If I come toyou, it is onquite othergrounds."

"Whatrighthaveyou,inthecircumstances,toBEonanyotherground?"Archerretorted."Ifyou'reanemissaryyou'reanemissary."

The youngman considered. "Mymission is over: as far as theCountessOlenskagoes,ithasfailed."

"Ican'thelpthat,"Archerrejoinedonthesamenoteofirony.

"No:butyoucanhelp—"M.Rivierepaused, turnedhishat about inhisstill carefully glovedhands, looked into its lining and then back atArcher'sface. "Youcanhelp,Monsieur, I amconvinced, tomake it equally a failurewithherfamily."

Archerpushedbackhischairandstoodup."Well—andbyGodIwill!"heexclaimed.Hestoodwithhishandsinhispockets,staringdownwrathfullyatthelittleFrenchman,whoseface,thoughhetoohadrisen,wasstillaninchortwobelowthelineofArcher'seyes.

M.Rivierepaledtohisnormalhue:paler thanthathiscomplexioncouldhardlyturn.

"Whythedevil,"Archerexplosivelycontinued,"shouldyouhavethought—sinceIsupposeyou'reappealingtomeonthegroundofmyrelationshiptoMadame Olenska—that I should take a view contrary to the rest of herfamily?"

The change of expression in M. Riviere's face was for a time his onlyanswer.Hislookpassedfromtimiditytoabsolutedistress:forayoungmanofhis usually resourceful mien it would have been difficult to appear moredisarmedanddefenceless."Oh,Monsieur—"

"I can't imagine,"Archer continued, "why you should have come tomewhen there are others so much nearer to the Countess; still less why youthoughtIshouldbemoreaccessibletotheargumentsIsupposeyouweresentoverwith."

M. Riviere took this onslaught with a disconcerting humility. "TheargumentsIwanttopresenttoyou,Monsieur,aremyownandnotthoseIwassentoverwith."

"ThenIseestilllessreasonforlisteningtothem."

M.Riviereagain looked intohishat,as ifconsideringwhether these last

wordswere not a sufficiently broad hint to put it on and be gone. Then hespokewithsuddendecision."Monsieur—willyoutellmeonething?Isitmyrighttobeherethatyouquestion?Ordoyouperhapsbelievethewholemattertobealreadyclosed?"

HisquietinsistencemadeArcherfeeltheclumsinessofhisownbluster.M.Riviere had succeeded in imposing himself: Archer, reddening slightly,droppedintohischairagain,andsignedtotheyoungmantobeseated.

"Ibegyourpardon:butwhyisn'tthematterclosed?"

M.Rivieregazedbackathimwithanguish."Youdo,then,agreewiththerestofthefamilythat,infaceofthenewproposalsIhavebrought,itishardlypossibleforMadameOlenskanottoreturntoherhusband?"

"GoodGod!"Archerexclaimed;andhisvisitorgaveoutalowmurmurofconfirmation.

"Before seeing her, I saw—at Count Olenski's request—Mr. LovellMingott,withwhomIhadseveraltalksbeforegoingtoBoston.Iunderstandthatherepresentshismother'sview;andthatMrs.MansonMingott'sinfluenceisgreatthroughoutherfamily."

Archer sat silent, with the sense of clinging to the edge of a slidingprecipice. The discovery that he had been excluded from a share in thesenegotiations,andevenfromtheknowledgethattheywereonfoot,causedhimasurprisehardlydulledbytheacuterwonderofwhathewaslearning.Hesawin a flash that if the family had ceased to consult him itwas because somedeep tribal instinctwarned them thathewasno longeron their side;andherecalled,withastartofcomprehension,aremarkofMay'sduringtheirdrivehome from Mrs. Manson Mingott's on the day of the Archery Meeting:"Perhaps,afterall,Ellenwouldbehappierwithherhusband."

Even in the tumult of newdiscoveriesArcher remembered his indignantexclamation,and the fact that since thenhiswifehadnevernamedMadameOlenskatohim.Hercarelessallusionhadnodoubtbeenthestrawhelduptoseewhichwaythewindblew;theresulthadbeenreportedtothefamily,andthereafterArcherhadbeentacitlyomittedfromtheircounsels.Headmiredthetribal disciplinewhichmadeMaybow to thisdecision.Shewouldnothavedoneso,heknew,hadherconscienceprotested;butsheprobablyshared thefamily view thatMadameOlenskawould be better off as an unhappywifethanasaseparatedone,andthattherewasnouseindiscussingthecasewithNewland,whohadanawkwardwayofsuddenlynotseemingtotakethemostfundamentalthingsforgranted.

Archer looked up and met his visitor's anxious gaze. "Don't you know,Monsieur—is it possible you don't know—that the family begin to doubt if

they have the right to advise the Countess to refuse her husband's lastproposals?"

"Theproposalsyoubrought?"

"TheproposalsIbrought."

ItwasonArcher'slipstoexclaimthatwhateverheknewordidnotknowwas no concern of M. Riviere's; but something in the humble and yetcourageoustenacityofM.Riviere'sgazemadehimrejectthisconclusion,andhe met the young man's question with another. "What is your object inspeakingtomeofthis?"

Hehadnot towaitamomentfortheanswer."Tobegyou,Monsieur—tobegyouwithalltheforceI'mcapableof—nottolethergoback.—Oh,don'tlether!"M.Riviereexclaimed.

Archer looked at him with increasing astonishment. There was nomistakingthesincerityofhisdistressorthestrengthofhisdetermination:hehadevidentlyresolvedtoleteverythinggobytheboardbutthesupremeneedofthusputtinghimselfonrecord.Archerconsidered.

"May I ask," he said at length, "if this is the line you took with theCountessOlenska?"

M.Rivierereddened,buthiseyesdidnotfalter."No,Monsieur:Iacceptedmymissioningoodfaith.Ireallybelieved—forreasonsIneednottroubleyouwith—thatitwouldbebetterforMadameOlenskatorecoverhersituation,herfortune,thesocialconsiderationthatherhusband'sstandinggivesher."

"SoIsupposed:youcouldhardlyhaveacceptedsuchamissionotherwise."

"Ishouldnothaveacceptedit."

"Well, then—?" Archer paused again, and their eyes met in anotherprotractedscrutiny.

"Ah,Monsieur,afterIhadseenher,afterIhadlistenedtoher,Iknewshewasbetteroffhere."

"Youknew—?"

"Monsieur, I discharged my mission faithfully: I put the Count'sarguments, Istatedhisoffers,withoutaddinganycommentofmyown.TheCountesswasgoodenoughtolistenpatiently;shecarriedhergoodnesssofaras to seeme twice; sheconsidered impartiallyall Ihadcome to say.And itwasinthecourseofthesetwotalksthatIchangedmymind,thatIcametoseethingsdifferently."

"MayIaskwhatledtothischange?"

"SimplyseeingthechangeinHER,"M.Rivierereplied.

"Thechangeinher?Thenyouknewherbefore?"

The youngman's colour again rose. "I used to see her in her husband'shouse.IhaveknownCountOlenskiformanyyears.Youcanimaginethathewouldnothavesentastrangeronsuchamission."

Archer'sgaze,wanderingawaytotheblankwallsoftheoffice,restedonahanging calendar surmounted by the rugged features of the President of theUnitedStates.Thatsuchaconversationshouldbegoingonanywherewithinthemillionsofsquaremilessubjecttohisruleseemedasstrangeasanythingthattheimaginationcouldinvent.

"Thechange—whatsortofachange?"

"Ah, Monsieur, if I could tell you!" M. Riviere paused. "Tenez—thediscovery, I suppose, of what I'd never thought of before: that she's anAmerican. And that if you're an American of HER kind—of your kind—thingsthatareacceptedincertainothersocieties,oratleastputupwithaspartof a general convenient give-and-take—become unthinkable, simplyunthinkable. If Madame Olenska's relations understood what these thingswere,theiroppositiontoherreturningwouldnodoubtbeasunconditionalasherown;buttheyseemtoregardherhusband'swishtohaveherbackasproofof an irresistible longing for domestic life." M. Riviere paused, and thenadded:"Whereasit'sfarfrombeingassimpleasthat."

ArcherlookedbacktothePresidentoftheUnitedStates,andthendownathisdeskandat thepapers scatteredon it.For a secondor twohecouldnottrusthimselftospeak.DuringthisintervalheheardM.Riviere'schairpushedback,andwasawarethattheyoungmanhadrisen.Whenheglancedupagainhesawthathisvisitorwasasmovedashimself.

"Thankyou,"Archersaidsimply.

"There's nothing to thankme for,Monsieur: it is I, rather—"M.Rivierebrokeoff,as ifspeechforhimtooweredifficult."Ishouldlike, though,"hecontinuedinafirmervoice,"toaddonething.YouaskedmeifIwasinCountOlenski'semploy.Iamatthismoment:Ireturnedtohim,afewmonthsago,for reasons of private necessity such as may happen to any one who haspersons,illandolderpersons,dependentonhim.ButfromthemomentthatIhavetakenthestepofcomingheretosaythesethingstoyouIconsidermyselfdischarged, and I shall tell him so onmy return, and give him the reasons.That'sall,Monsieur."

M.Rivierebowedanddrewbackastep.

"Thankyou,"Archersaidagain,astheirhandsmet.

XXVI.

Every year on the fifteenth ofOctober FifthAvenue opened its shutters,unrolleditscarpetsandhungupitstriplelayerofwindow-curtains.

By thefirstofNovember thishouseholdritualwasover,andsocietyhadbeguntolookaboutandtakestockofitself.Bythefifteenththeseasonwasinfullblast,Operaandtheatreswereputtingforththeirnewattractions,dinner-engagements were accumulating, and dates for dances being fixed. AndpunctuallyataboutthistimeMrs.ArcheralwayssaidthatNewYorkwasverymuchchanged.

Observingitfromtheloftystand-pointofanon-participant,shewasable,withthehelpofMr.SillertonJacksonandMissSophy,totraceeachnewcrackinitssurface,andallthestrangeweedspushingupbetweentheorderedrowsofsocialvegetables.IthadbeenoneoftheamusementsofArcher'syouthtowaitforthisannualpronouncementofhismother's,andtohearherenumeratetheminute signsofdisintegration thathiscarelessgazehadoverlooked.ForNewYork, toMrs. Archer's mind, never changed without changing for theworse;andinthisviewMissSophyJacksonheartilyconcurred.

Mr. Sillerton Jackson, as became a man of the world, suspended hisjudgmentandlistenedwithanamusedimpartialitytothelamentationsoftheladies.But evenheneverdenied thatNewYorkhadchanged; andNewlandArcher,inthewinterofthesecondyearofhismarriage,washimselfobligedtoadmitthatifithadnotactuallychangeditwascertainlychanging.

These points had been raised, as usual, at Mrs. Archer's Thanksgivingdinner. At the date when shewas officially enjoined to give thanks for theblessingsoftheyearitwasherhabittotakeamournfulthoughnotembitteredstockofherworld,andwonderwhattherewastobethankfulfor.Atanyrate,not the state of society; society, if it could be said to exist, was rather aspectacleonwhichtocalldownBiblicalimprecations—andinfact,everyoneknew what the Reverend Dr. Ashmore meant when he chose a text fromJeremiah(chap.ii.,verse25)forhisThanksgivingsermon.Dr.Ashmore,thenew Rector of St. Matthew's, had been chosen because he was very"advanced": his sermons were considered bold in thought and novel inlanguage.Whenhefulminatedagainstfashionablesocietyhealwaysspokeofits "trend"; and toMrs. Archer it was terrifying and yet fascinating to feelherselfpartofacommunitythatwastrending.

"There'snodoubtthatDr.Ashmoreisright:thereISamarkedtrend,"she

said,asifitweresomethingvisibleandmeasurable,likeacrackinahouse.

"Itwas odd, though, to preach about it on Thanksgiving,"Miss Jacksonopined; and her hostess drily rejoined: "Oh, hemeans us to give thanks forwhat'sleft."

Archer had been wont to smile at these annual vaticinations of hismother's;butthisyearevenhewasobligedtoacknowledge,ashelistenedtoanenumerationofthechanges,thatthe"trend"wasvisible.

"Theextravaganceindress—"MissJacksonbegan."SillertontookmetothefirstnightoftheOpera,andIcanonlytellyouthatJaneMerry'sdresswastheonlyoneIrecognisedfromlastyear;andeventhathadhadthefrontpanelchanged.Yet Iknowshegot itout fromWorthonly twoyearsago,becausemyseamstressalwaysgoesintomakeoverherParisdressesbeforeshewearsthem."

"Ah,JaneMerryisoneofUS,"saidMrs.Archersighing,asifitwerenotsuchanenviable thing tobe inanagewhen ladieswerebeginning to flauntabroad their Paris dresses as soon as they were out of the Custom House,instead of letting themmellow under lock and key, in the manner of Mrs.Archer'scontemporaries.

"Yes; she'soneof the few. Inmyyouth,"Miss Jackson rejoined, "itwasconsidered vulgar to dress in the newest fashions; and Amy Sillerton hasalwaystoldmethatinBostontherulewastoputawayone'sParisdressesfortwoyears.OldMrs.BaxterPennilow,whodideverythinghandsomely,usedtoimport twelve a year, two velvet, two satin, two silk, and the other six ofpoplinandthefinestcashmere.Itwasastandingorder,andasshewasillfortwoyearsbeforeshediedtheyfoundforty-eightWorthdressesthathadneverbeentakenoutoftissuepaper;andwhenthegirlsleftofftheirmourningtheywere able towear the first lot at theSymphony concertswithout looking inadvanceofthefashion."

"Ah,well,BostonismoreconservativethanNewYork;butIalwaysthinkit'sasaferuleforaladytolayasideherFrenchdressesforoneseason,"Mrs.Archerconceded.

"ItwasBeaufortwhostartedthenewfashionbymakinghiswifeclaphernewclothesonherbackassoonastheyarrived:ImustsayattimesittakesallRegina'sdistinctionnot to look like ... like ..."MissJacksonglancedaroundthe table, caught Janey's bulging gaze, and took refuge in an unintelligiblemurmur.

"Likeherrivals,"saidMr.SillertonJackson,withtheairofproducinganepigram.

"Oh,—"theladiesmurmured;andMrs.Archeradded,partlytodistractherdaughter's attention from forbidden topics: "PoorRegina!HerThanksgivinghasn'tbeenaverycheerfulone,I'mafraid.HaveyouheardtherumoursaboutBeaufort'sspeculations,Sillerton?"

Mr. Jackson nodded carelessly. Every one had heard the rumours inquestion,andhescornedtoconfirmatalethatwasalreadycommonproperty.

Agloomysilencefellupontheparty.NoonereallylikedBeaufort,anditwasnotwhollyunpleasanttothinktheworstofhisprivatelife;buttheideaofhishavingbroughtfinancialdishonouronhiswife'sfamilywastooshockingtobeenjoyedevenbyhisenemies.Archer'sNewYorktoleratedhypocrisyinprivate relations;but inbusinessmatters it exacteda limpidand impeccablehonesty. It was a long time since any well-known banker had faileddiscreditably; but everyone remembered the social extinctionvisitedon theheadsof thefirmwhenthe lasteventof thekindhadhappened. ItwouldbethesamewiththeBeauforts,inspiteofhispowerandherpopularity;notalltheleaguedstrengthoftheDallasconnectionwouldsavepoorReginaiftherewereanytruthinthereportsofherhusband'sunlawfulspeculations.

The talk took refuge in lessominous topics;buteverything they touchedonseemedtoconfirmMrs.Archer'ssenseofanacceleratedtrend.

"Of course, Newland, I know you let dear May go to Mrs. Struthers'sSunday evenings—" she began; andMay interposed gaily: "Oh, you know,everybodygoestoMrs.Struthers'snow;andshewasinvitedtoGranny'slastreception."

It was thus, Archer reflected, that New York managed its transitions:conspiringtoignorethemtilltheywerewellover,andthen,inallgoodfaith,imagining that theyhad takenplace inaprecedingage.Therewasalwaysatraitorinthecitadel;andafterhe(orgenerallyshe)hadsurrenderedthekeys,what was the use of pretending that it was impregnable? Once people hadtastedofMrs.Struthers'seasySundayhospitalitytheywerenotlikelytositathomerememberingthatherchampagnewastransmutedShoe-Polish.

"I know, dear, I know,"Mrs. Archer sighed. "Such things have to be, Isuppose,aslongasAMUSEMENTiswhatpeoplegooutfor;butI'veneverquite forgiven your cousin Madame Olenska for being the first person tocountenanceMrs.Struthers."

AsuddenblushrosetoyoungMrs.Archer'sface;itsurprisedherhusbandasmuchas theotherguestsabout thetable."Oh,ELLEN—"shemurmured,much in the same accusing and yet deprecating tone in which her parentsmighthavesaid:"Oh,THEBLENKERS—."

Itwasthenotewhichthefamilyhadtakentosoundingonthementionof

the Countess Olenska's name, since she had surprised and inconveniencedthemby remainingobdurate toherhusband's advances; butonMay's lips itgavefoodforthought,andArcherlookedatherwiththesenseofstrangenessthat sometimes came over him when she was most in the tone of herenvironment.

His mother, with less than her usual sensitiveness to atmosphere, stillinsisted:"I'vealwaysthoughtthatpeopleliketheCountessOlenska,whohavelived in aristocratic societies, ought to help us to keep up our socialdistinctions,insteadofignoringthem."

May'sblushremainedpermanentlyvivid:itseemedtohaveasignificancebeyondthatimpliedbytherecognitionofMadameOlenska'ssocialbadfaith.

"I'venodoubtweallseemaliketoforeigners,"saidMissJacksontartly.

"Idon'tthinkEllencaresforsociety;butnobodyknowsexactlywhatshedoes care for," May continued, as if she had been groping for somethingnoncommittal.

"Ah,well—"Mrs.Archersighedagain.

Everybody knew that the Countess Olenska was no longer in the goodgracesofherfamily.Evenherdevotedchampion,oldMrs.MansonMingott,hadbeenunabletodefendherrefusaltoreturntoherhusband.TheMingottshadnotproclaimed theirdisapprovalaloud: their senseof solidaritywas toostrong.Theyhadsimply,asMrs.Wellandsaid,"letpoorEllen findherownlevel"—and that,mortifyingly and incomprehensibly,was in the dimdepthswheretheBlenkersprevailed,and"peoplewhowrote"celebratedtheiruntidyrites. It was incredible, but it was a fact, that Ellen, in spite of all heropportunities and her privileges, had become simply "Bohemian." The factenforcedthecontentionthatshehadmadeafatalmistakeinnotreturningtoCount Olenski. After all, a young woman's place was under her husband'sroof,especiallywhenshehadleftitincircumstancesthat...well...ifonehadcaredtolookintothem...

"Madame Olenska is a great favourite with the gentlemen," said MissSophy,withherairofwishing toput forth somethingconciliatorywhensheknewthatshewasplantingadart.

"Ah,that'sthedangerthatayoungwomanlikeMadameOlenskaisalwaysexposed to," Mrs. Archer mournfully agreed; and the ladies, on thisconclusion,gathereduptheir trainstoseekthecarcelglobesofthedrawing-room,whileArcherandMr.SillertonJacksonwithdrewtotheGothiclibrary.

Once established before the grate, and consoling himself for theinadequacyof thedinnerby theperfectionofhiscigar,Mr. Jacksonbecame

portentousandcommunicable.

"If the Beaufort smash comes," he announced, "there are going to bedisclosures."

Archerraisedhisheadquickly:hecouldneverhearthenamewithoutthesharpvisionofBeaufort'sheavyfigure,opulentlyfurredandshod,advancingthroughthesnowatSkuytercliff.

"There's bound to be," Mr. Jackson continued, "the nastiest kind of acleaningup.Hehasn'tspentallhismoneyonRegina."

"Oh,well—that'sdiscounted,isn't it?Mybeliefishe'llpulloutyet,"saidtheyoungman,wantingtochangethesubject.

"Perhaps—perhaps. I knowhewas to see someof the influential peopletoday.Ofcourse,"Mr.Jacksonreluctantlyconceded,"it'stobehopedtheycantide him over—this time anyhow. I shouldn't like to think of poor Regina'sspending the rest of her life in some shabby foreign watering-place forbankrupts."

Archer said nothing. It seemed to him so natural—however tragic—thatmoney ill-gotten should be cruelly expiated, that hismind, hardly lingeringoverMrs.Beaufort'sdoom,wanderedbacktocloserquestions.WhatwasthemeaningofMay'sblushwhentheCountessOlenskahadbeenmentioned?

Fourmonths had passed since themidsummer day that he andMadameOlenskahadspenttogether;andsincethenhehadnotseenher.Heknewthatshe had returned toWashington, to the little house which she andMedoraManson had taken there: he had written to her once—a few words, askingwhentheyweretomeetagain—andshehadevenmorebrieflyreplied:"Notyet."

Sincethentherehadbeennofarthercommunicationbetweenthem,andhehadbuiltupwithinhimselfakindofsanctuary inwhichshe thronedamonghissecretthoughtsandlongings.Littlebylittleitbecamethesceneofhisreallife, of his only rational activities; thither hebrought thebookshe read, theideas and feelings which nourished him, his judgments and his visions.Outside it, in thesceneofhisactual life,hemovedwithagrowingsenseofunreality and insufficiency, blundering against familiar prejudices andtraditionalpointsofviewasanabsent-mindedmangoesonbumpingintothefurniture of his own room. Absent—that was what he was: so absent fromeverythingmost densely real and near to those about him that it sometimesstartledhimtofindtheystillimaginedhewasthere.

Hebecameaware thatMr.Jacksonwasclearinghis throatpreparatory tofartherrevelations.

"I don't know, of course, how far your wife's family are aware of whatpeople say about—well, about Madame Olenska's refusal to accept herhusband'slatestoffer."

Archerwas silent, andMr. Jacksonobliquely continued: "It's apity—it'scertainlyapity—thatsherefusedit."

"Apity?InGod'sname,why?"

Mr.Jacksonlookeddownhislegtotheunwrinkledsockthatjoinedittoaglossypump.

"Well—toputitonthelowestground—what'sshegoingtoliveonnow?"

"Now—?"

"IfBeaufort—"

Archersprangup,his fistbangingdownon theblackwalnut-edgeof thewriting-table.Thewellsofthebrassdouble-inkstanddancedintheirsockets.

"Whatthedevildoyoumean,sir?"

Mr.Jackson,shiftinghimselfslightlyinhischair,turnedatranquilgazeontheyoungman'sburningface.

"Well—I have it on pretty good authority—in fact, on old Catherine'sherself—that the family reducedCountessOlenska's allowance considerablywhenshedefinitelyrefusedtogobacktoherhusband;andas,bythisrefusal,shealsoforfeits themoneysettledonherwhenshemarried—whichOlenskiwasreadytomakeovertoherifshereturned—why,whatthedevildoYOUmean, my dear boy, by asking me what I mean?" Mr. Jackson good-humouredlyretorted.

Archermoved toward themantelpiece and bent over to knock his ashesintothegrate.

"I don't know anything ofMadameOlenska's private affairs; but I don'tneedto,tobecertainthatwhatyouinsinuate—"

"Oh,Idon't:it'sLefferts,forone,"Mr.Jacksoninterposed.

"Lefferts—whomadelovetoherandgotsnubbedforit!"Archerbrokeoutcontemptuously.

"Ah—DIDhe?"snappedtheother,asif thiswereexactlythefacthehadbeenlayingatrapfor.Hestillsatsidewaysfromthefire,sothathishardoldgazeheldArcher'sfaceasifinaspringofsteel.

"Well, well: it's a pity she didn't go back before Beaufort's cropper," herepeated. "If shegoesNOW,and ifhe fails, itwillonlyconfirm thegeneral

impression:whichisn'tbyanymeanspeculiartoLefferts,bytheway."

"Oh,shewon'tgobacknow:lessthanever!"Archerhadnosoonersaiditthanhehadoncemore the feeling that itwasexactlywhatMr. Jacksonhadbeenwaitingfor.

The old gentleman considered him attentively. "That's your opinion, eh?Well, no doubt you know.But everybodywill tell you that the few penniesMedoraMansonhasleftareallinBeaufort'shands;andhowthetwowomenaretokeeptheirheadsabovewaterunlesshedoes,Ican'timagine.Ofcourse,Madame Olenska may still soften old Catherine, who's been the mostinexorably opposed to her staying; and old Catherine could make her anyallowance she chooses. But we all know that she hates parting with goodmoney; and the rest of the family have no particular interest in keepingMadameOlenskahere."

Archer was burning with unavailing wrath: he was exactly in the statewhenaman issure todosomethingstupid,knowingall thewhile thathe isdoingit.

HesawthatMr.JacksonhadbeeninstantlystruckbythefactthatMadameOlenska'sdifferenceswithhergrandmother andherother relationswerenotknowntohim,andthattheoldgentlemanhaddrawnhisownconclusionsastothereasonsforArcher'sexclusionfromthefamilycouncils.ThisfactwarnedArcher togowarily;but the insinuationsaboutBeaufortmadehimreckless.Hewasmindful,however,ifnotofhisowndanger,atleastofthefactthatMr.Jacksonwas under hismother's roof, and consequently his guest. OldNewYorkscrupulouslyobservedtheetiquetteofhospitality,andnodiscussionwithaguestwaseverallowedtodegenerateintoadisagreement.

"Shall we go up and join my mother?" he suggested curtly, as Mr.Jackson'slastconeofashesdroppedintothebrassashtrayathiselbow.

OnthedrivehomewardMayremainedoddlysilent;throughthedarkness,hestill feltherenvelopedinhermenacingblush.What itsmenacemeanthecould not guess: but he was sufficiently warned by the fact that MadameOlenska'snamehadevokedit.

Theywent upstairs, and he turned into the library. She usually followedhim;butheheardherpassingdownthepassagetoherbedroom.

"May!"hecalledoutimpatiently;andshecameback,withaslightglanceofsurpriseathistone.

"Thislampissmokingagain;Ishouldthinktheservantsmightseethatit'skeptproperlytrimmed,"hegrumblednervously.

"I'msosorry:itshan'thappenagain,"sheanswered,inthefirmbrighttone

she had learned fromhermother; and it exasperatedArcher to feel that shewasalreadybeginning tohumourhim likeayoungerMr.Welland.Shebentovertolowerthewick,andasthelightstruckuponherwhiteshouldersandtheclearcurvesofherfacehethought:"Howyoungsheis!Forwhatendlessyearsthislifewillhavetogoon!"

Hefelt,withakindofhorror,hisownstrongyouthandtheboundingbloodinhisveins."Lookhere,"hesaidsuddenly,"ImayhavetogotoWashingtonforafewdays—soon;nextweekperhaps."

Herhandremainedonthekeyofthelampassheturnedtohimslowly.Theheat from its flamehadbroughtbackaglow toher face,but itpaledas shelookedup.

"Onbusiness?"sheasked,inatonewhichimpliedthattherecouldbenootherconceivablereason,andthatshehadputthequestionautomatically,asifmerelytofinishhisownsentence.

"On business, naturally. There's a patent case coming up before theSupremeCourt—"Hegavethenameoftheinventor,andwentonfurnishingdetails with all Lawrence Lefferts's practised glibness, while she listenedattentively,sayingatintervals:"Yes,Isee."

"The changewill do you good," she said simply,when he had finished;"andyoumustbesuretogoandseeEllen,"sheadded,lookinghimstraightinthe eyeswith her cloudless smile, and speaking in the tone shemight haveemployedinurginghimnottoneglectsomeirksomefamilyduty.

Itwas theonlyword thatpassedbetweenthemon thesubject;but in thecodeinwhichtheyhadbothbeentraineditmeant:"Ofcourseyouunderstandthat I know all that people have been saying about Ellen, and heartilysympathisewithmyfamilyintheirefforttogethertoreturntoherhusband.Ialso know that, for some reason you have not chosen to tell me, you haveadvisedheragainstthiscourse,whichalltheoldermenofthefamily,aswellas our grandmother, agree in approving; and that it is owing to yourencouragement that Ellen defies us all, and exposes herself to the kind ofcriticismofwhichMr.SillertonJacksonprobablygaveyou,thisevening,thehintthathasmadeyousoirritable....Hintshaveindeednotbeenwanting;butsince you appear unwilling to take them from others, I offer you this onemyself, in the only form in which well-bred people of our kind cancommunicateunpleasantthingstoeachother:bylettingyouunderstandthatIknow youmean to seeEllenwhen you are inWashington, and are perhapsgoingthereexpresslyforthatpurpose;andthat,sinceyouaresuretoseeher,Iwish you to do so with my full and explicit approval—and to take theopportunity of letting her know what the course of conduct you haveencouragedherinislikelytoleadto."

Herhandwasstillonthekeyofthelampwhenthelastwordofthismutemessage reached him. She turned the wick down, lifted off the globe, andbreathedonthesulkyflame.

"They smell less if one blows them out," she explained,with her brighthousekeepingair.Onthethresholdsheturnedandpausedforhiskiss.

XXVII.

Wall Street, the next day, had more reassuring reports of Beaufort'ssituation. They were not definite, but they were hopeful. It was generallyunderstoodthathecouldcallonpowerfulinfluencesincaseofemergency,andthat he had done so with success; and that evening, when Mrs. Beaufortappeared at the Opera wearing her old smile and a new emerald necklace,societydrewabreathofrelief.

NewYorkwasinexorableinitscondemnationofbusinessirregularities.Sofartherehadbeennoexceptiontoitstacitrulethatthosewhobrokethelawofprobitymustpay;andeveryonewasawarethatevenBeaufortandBeaufort'swifewouldbeofferedupunflinchinglytothisprinciple.Buttobeobligedtoofferthemupwouldbenotonlypainfulbutinconvenient.ThedisappearanceoftheBeaufortswouldleaveaconsiderablevoidintheircompactlittlecircle;and those who were too ignorant or too careless to shudder at the moralcatastrophebewailedinadvancethelossofthebestball-roominNewYork.

Archer had definitely made up his mind to go to Washington. He waswaitingonlyfortheopeningofthelaw-suitofwhichhehadspokentoMay,sothatitsdatemightcoincidewiththatofhisvisit;butonthefollowingTuesdayhe learned fromMr.Letterblair that thecasemightbepostponed for severalweeks.Nevertheless,hewenthomethatafternoondeterminedinanyeventtoleavethenextevening.ThechanceswerethatMay,whoknewnothingofhisprofessionallife,andhadnevershownanyinterestinit,wouldnotlearnofthepostponement,shouldittakeplace,norrememberthenamesofthelitigantsiftheywerementioned before her; and at any rate he could no longer put offseeingMadameOlenska.Thereweretoomanythingsthathemustsaytoher.

On theWednesdaymorning,when he reached his office,Mr. Letterblairmet himwith a troubled face. Beaufort, after all, had notmanaged to "tideover";butbysettingafloat therumour thathehaddonesohehadreassuredhisdepositors,andheavypaymentshadpouredintothebanktillthepreviousevening,whendisturbingreportsagainbegantopredominate.Inconsequence,arunonthebankhadbegun,anditsdoorswerelikelytoclosebeforetheday

was over. The ugliest things were being said of Beaufort's dastardlymanoeuvre,andhisfailurepromisedtobeoneofthemostdiscreditableinthehistoryofWallStreet.

The extent of the calamity left Mr. Letterblair white and incapacitated."I've seenbad things inmy time; but nothing as bad as this.Everybodyweknow will be hit, one way or another. And what will be done about Mrs.Beaufort?WhatCANbedoneabouther?IpityMrs.MansonMingottasmuchasanybody:comingatherage,there'snoknowingwhateffectthisaffairmayhaveonher.ShealwaysbelievedinBeaufort—shemadeafriendofhim!Andthere'sthewholeDallasconnection:poorMrs.Beaufortisrelatedtoeveryoneofyou.Heronlychancewouldbetoleaveherhusband—yethowcananyonetellherso?Herdutyisathisside;andluckilysheseemsalwaystohavebeenblindtohisprivateweaknesses."

Therewasaknock,andMr.Letterblair turnedhisheadsharply."What isit?Ican'tbedisturbed."

AclerkbroughtinaletterforArcherandwithdrew.Recognisinghiswife'shand,theyoungmanopenedtheenvelopeandread:"Won'tyoupleasecomeup townasearlyasyoucan?Grannyhada slight stroke lastnight. In somemysteriouswayshefoundoutbeforeanyoneelsethisawfulnewsaboutthebank.UncleLovell is awayshooting,and the ideaof thedisgracehasmadepoor Papa so nervous that he has a temperature and can't leave his room.Mammaneedsyoudreadfully,andIdohopeyoucangetawayatonceandgostraighttoGranny's."

Archerhandedthenotetohisseniorpartner,andafewminuteslaterwascrawlingnorthwardinacrowdedhorse-car,whichheexchangedatFourteenthStreet for one of the high staggering omnibuses of theFifthAvenue line. Itwas after twelve o'clock when this laborious vehicle dropped him at oldCatherine's.Thesitting-roomwindowonthegroundfloor,wheresheusuallythroned,wastenantedbytheinadequatefigureofherdaughter,Mrs.Welland,whosignedahaggardwelcomeasshecaughtsightofArcher;andatthedoorhewasmetbyMay.Thehallworetheunnaturalappearancepeculiartowell-kepthousessuddenly invadedby illness:wrapsand furs lay inheapson thechairs,adoctor'sbagandovercoatwereonthetable,andbesidethemlettersandcardshadalreadypiledupunheeded.

May looked pale but smiling: Dr. Bencomb, who had just come for thesecond time, took a more hopeful view, and Mrs. Mingott's dauntlessdeterminationtoliveandgetwellwasalreadyhavinganeffectonherfamily.May led Archer into the old lady's sitting-room, where the sliding doorsopeningintothebedroomhadbeendrawnshut,andtheheavyyellowdamaskportieresdroppedoverthem;andhereMrs.Wellandcommunicatedtohimin

horrifiedundertonesthedetailsofthecatastrophe.Itappearedthattheeveningbefore something dreadful and mysterious had happened. At about eighto'clock, just after Mrs. Mingott had finished the game of solitaire that shealwaysplayedafterdinner,thedoor-bellhadrung,andaladysothicklyveiledthattheservantsdidnotimmediatelyrecogniseherhadaskedtobereceived.

The butler, hearing a familiar voice, had thrown open the sitting-roomdoor,announcing:"Mrs.JuliusBeaufort"—andhadthencloseditagainonthetwo ladies.Theymusthavebeen together,he thought, about anhour.WhenMrs.Mingott'sbellrangMrs.Beauforthadalreadyslippedawayunseen,andtheoldlady,whiteandvastandterrible,sataloneinhergreatchair,andsignedto the butler to help her into her room. She seemed, at that time, thoughobviouslydistressed,incompletecontrolofherbodyandbrain.Themulattomaidputhertobed,broughtheracupofteaasusual,laideverythingstraightin theroom,andwentaway;butat three in themorningthebell rangagain,and the two servants, hastening in at this unwonted summons (for oldCatherineusuallysleptlikeababy),hadfoundtheirmistresssittingupagainstherpillowswithacrookedsmileonherfaceandonelittlehandhanginglimpfromitshugearm.

Thestrokehadclearlybeenaslightone,forshewasabletoarticulateandtomakeherwishesknown;andsoonafterthedoctor'sfirstvisitshehadbegunto regain control of her facial muscles. But the alarm had been great; andproportionately great was the indignation when it was gathered from Mrs.Mingott's fragmentary phrases that Regina Beaufort had come to ask her—incredible effrontery!—to back up her husband, see them through—not to"desert"them,asshecalledit—infacttoinducethewholefamilytocoverandcondonetheirmonstrousdishonour.

"I said to her: 'Honour's always been honour, and honesty honesty, inMansonMingott'shouse,andwillbetillI'mcarriedoutofitfeetfirst,'"theoldwomanhadstammeredintoherdaughter'sear,inthethickvoiceofthepartlyparalysed. "Andwhen she said: 'Butmy name, Auntie—my name's ReginaDallas,'Isaid:'ItwasBeaufortwhenhecoveredyouwithjewels,andit'sgottostayBeaufortnowthathe'scoveredyouwithshame.'"

Somuch,withtearsandgaspsofhorror,Mrs.Wellandimparted,blanchedanddemolishedbytheunwontedobligationofhavingatlasttofixhereyesontheunpleasantandthediscreditable."IfonlyIcouldkeepitfromyourfather-in-law: he always says: 'Augusta, for pity's sake, don't destroy my lastillusions'—andhowamItopreventhisknowingthesehorrors?"thepoorladywailed.

"After all,Mamma,hewon'thaveSEEN them,"herdaughter suggested;andMrs.Welland sighed: "Ah, no; thank heaven he's safe in bed. AndDr.

Bencomb has promised to keep him there till poor Mamma is better, andReginahasbeengotawaysomewhere."

Archerhadseatedhimselfnearthewindowandwasgazingoutblanklyatthedeserted thoroughfare. Itwasevident thathehadbeen summoned ratherfor themoral supportof the stricken ladies thanbecauseof any specific aidthat he could render. Mr. Lovell Mingott had been telegraphed for, andmessageswerebeingdespatchedbyhandtothemembersofthefamilylivinginNewYork;andmeanwhiletherewasnothingtodobuttodiscussinhushedtonestheconsequencesofBeaufort'sdishonourandofhiswife'sunjustifiableaction.

Mrs. Lovell Mingott, who had been in another room writing notes,presently reappeared, and added her voice to the discussion. InTHEIRday,theelderladiesagreed,thewifeofamanwhohaddoneanythingdisgracefulinbusinesshadonlyoneidea:toeffaceherself,todisappearwithhim."TherewasthecaseofpoorGrandmammaSpicer;yourgreat-grandmother,May.Ofcourse," Mrs. Welland hastened to add, "your great-grandfather's moneydifficultieswereprivate—lossesatcards,or signinganote forsomebody—Inever quite knew, because Mamma would never speak of it. But she wasbroughtupinthecountrybecausehermotherhadtoleaveNewYorkafterthedisgrace,whateveritwas:theyliveduptheHudsonalone,winterandsummer,tillMammawassixteen.ItwouldneverhaveoccurredtoGrandmammaSpicertoaskthefamilyto'countenance'her,asIunderstandReginacallsit;thoughaprivate disgrace is nothing compared to the scandal of ruining hundreds ofinnocentpeople."

"Yes,itwouldbemorebecominginReginatohideherowncountenancethantotalkaboutotherpeople's,"Mrs.LovellMingottagreed."IunderstandthattheemeraldnecklacesheworeattheOperalastFridayhadbeensentonapprovalfromBallandBlack'sintheafternoon.Iwonderifthey'llevergetitback?"

Archer listened unmoved to the relentless chorus. The idea of absolutefinancial probity as the first law of a gentleman's code was too deeplyingrained in him for sentimental considerations toweaken it.An adventurerlikeLemuelStruthersmightbuildup themillionsofhisShoePolishonanynumberofshadydealings;butunblemishedhonestywas thenoblesseobligeofoldfinancialNewYork.NordidMrs.Beaufort'sfategreatlymoveArcher.Hefelt,nodoubt,moresorryforherthanherindignantrelatives;butitseemedtohimthatthetiebetweenhusbandandwife,evenifbreakableinprosperity,should be indissoluble in misfortune. As Mr. Letterblair had said, a wife'splacewasatherhusband'ssidewhenhewasintrouble;butsociety'splacewasnotathisside,andMrs.Beaufort'scoolassumptionthatitwasseemedalmostto make her his accomplice. Themere idea of a woman's appealing to her

family to screenherhusband'sbusinessdishonourwas inadmissible, since itwastheonethingthattheFamily,asaninstitution,couldnotdo.

ThemulattomaidcalledMrs.LovellMingott into thehall,and the lattercamebackinamomentwithafrowningbrow.

"Shewantsme to telegraph forEllenOlenska. I hadwritten toEllen, ofcourse,andtoMedora;butnowitseemsthat'snotenough.I'mtotelegraphtoherimmediately,andtotellherthatshe'stocomealone."

The announcement was received in silence. Mrs. Welland sighedresignedly, and May rose from her seat and went to gather up somenewspapersthathadbeenscatteredonthefloor.

"Isupposeitmustbedone,"Mrs.LovellMingottcontinued,asifhopingtobecontradicted;andMayturnedbacktowardthemiddleoftheroom.

"Ofcourseitmustbedone,"shesaid."Grannyknowswhatshewants,andwemustcarryoutallherwishes.ShallIwritethetelegramforyou,Auntie?Ifit goes at once Ellen can probably catch tomorrow morning's train." Shepronouncedthesyllablesofthenamewithapeculiarclearness,asifshehadtappedontwosilverbells.

"Well,itcan'tgoatonce.Jasperandthepantry-boyarebothoutwithnotesandtelegrams."

Mayturnedtoherhusbandwithasmile."Buthere'sNewland,readytodoanything.Will you take the telegram,Newland?There'll be just timebeforeluncheon."

Archer rose with a murmur of readiness, and she seated herself at oldCatherine's rosewood "Bonheur du Jour," andwrote out themessage in herlargeimmaturehand.WhenitwaswrittensheblotteditneatlyandhandedittoArcher.

"What apity," she said, "thatyouandEllenwill cross eachotheron theway!—Newland,"sheadded,turningtohermotherandaunt,"isobligedtogotoWashingtonaboutapatent law-suit that iscomingupbefore theSupremeCourt. I suppose Uncle Lovell will be back by tomorrow night, and withGrannyimprovingsomuchitdoesn'tseemrighttoaskNewlandtogiveupanimportantengagementforthefirm—doesit?"

Shepaused,asifforananswer,andMrs.Wellandhastilydeclared:"Oh,ofcourse not, darling. Your Granny would be the last person to wish it." AsArcher left the room with the telegram, he heard his mother-in-law add,presumablytoMrs.LovellMingott:"ButwhyonearthsheshouldmakeyoutelegraphforEllenOlenska—"andMay'sclearvoicerejoin:"Perhaps it's tourgeonheragainthatafterallherdutyiswithherhusband."

TheouterdoorclosedonArcherandhewalkedhastilyaway toward thetelegraphoffice.

XXVIII.

"Ol-ol—howjer spell it, anyhow?" asked the tart young lady to whomArcherhadpushedhiswife's telegramacross thebrass ledgeof theWesternUnionoffice.

"Olenska—O-len-ska,"herepeated,drawingbackthemessageinordertoprintouttheforeignsyllablesaboveMay'sramblingscript.

"It's an unlikely name for a New York telegraph office; at least in thisquarter," an unexpected voice observed; and turning around Archer sawLawrence Lefferts at his elbow, pulling an imperturbable moustache andaffectingnottoglanceatthemessage.

"Hallo,Newland: thought I'd catch you here. I've just heard of oldMrs.Mingott'sstroke;andasIwasonmywaytothehouseIsawyouturningdownthisstreetandnippedafteryou.Isupposeyou'vecomefromthere?"

Archernodded,andpushedhistelegramunderthelattice.

"Very bad, eh?" Lefferts continued. "Wiring to the family, I suppose. IgatheritISbad,ifyou'reincludingCountessOlenska."

Archer's lips stiffened; he felt a savage impulse to dash his fist into thelongvainhandsomefaceathisside.

"Why?"hequestioned.

Lefferts,whowasknowntoshrinkfromdiscussion,raisedhiseye-browswithan ironicgrimace thatwarned theotherof thewatchingdamselbehindthelattice.Nothingcouldbeworse"form"thelookremindedArcher,thananydisplayoftemperinapublicplace.

Archerhadneverbeenmore indifferent to the requirementsof form;buthis impulse to doLawrenceLefferts a physical injurywas onlymomentary.The ideaofbandyingEllenOlenska'snamewithhimatsucha time,andonwhatsoever provocation,was unthinkable.He paid for his telegram, and thetwo young men went out together into the street. There Archer, havingregained his self-control,went on: "Mrs.Mingott ismuch better: the doctorfeels no anxietywhatever"; andLefferts,with profuse expressions of relief,asked him if he had heard that therewere beastly bad rumours again aboutBeaufort....

That afternoon the announcement of the Beaufort failure was in all thepapers.ItovershadowedthereportofMrs.MansonMingott'sstroke,andonlythefewwhohadheardofthemysteriousconnectionbetweenthetwoeventsthoughtofascribingoldCatherine'sillnesstoanythingbuttheaccumulationoffleshandyears.

ThewholeofNewYorkwasdarkenedbythetaleofBeaufort'sdishonour.Therehadnever,asMr.Letterblairsaid,beenaworsecaseinhismemory,nor,for that matter, in the memory of the far-off Letterblair who had given hisnametothefirm.Thebankhadcontinuedtotakeinmoneyforawholedayafter itsfailurewasinevitable;andasmanyof itsclientsbelongedtooneoranotheroftherulingclans,Beaufort'sduplicityseemeddoublycynical.IfMrs.Beauforthadnottakenthetonethatsuchmisfortunes(thewordwasherown)were "the test of friendship," compassion for her might have tempered thegeneral indignation againstherhusband.As itwas—andespecially after theobjectofhernocturnalvisittoMrs.MansonMingotthadbecomeknown—hercynicism was held to exceed his; and she had not the excuse—nor herdetractorsthesatisfaction—ofpleadingthatshewas"aforeigner."Itwassomecomfort(tothosewhosesecuritieswerenotinjeopardy)tobeabletoremindthemselves that BeaufortWAS; but, after all, if a Dallas of South Carolinatook his view of the case, and glibly talked of his soon being "on his feetagain," theargument lost itsedge,andtherewasnothingtodobut toacceptthisawfulevidenceoftheindissolubilityofmarriage.Societymustmanagetogetonwithout theBeauforts, and therewasanendof it—except indeed forsuch hapless victims of the disaster asMedoraManson, the poor oldMissLannings,andcertainothermisguidedladiesofgoodfamilywho,ifonlytheyhadlistenedtoMr.HenryvanderLuyden...

"ThebestthingtheBeaufortscando,"saidMrs.Archer,summingitupasifshewerepronouncingadiagnosisandprescribingacourseoftreatment,"istogoandliveatRegina's littleplaceinNorthCarolina.Beauforthasalwayskepta racingstable,andhehadbetterbreed trottinghorses. I shouldsayhehadall thequalitiesofasuccessfulhorsedealer."Everyoneagreedwithher,butnoonecondescendedtoenquirewhattheBeaufortsreallymeanttodo.

The next dayMrs.MansonMingottwasmuch better: she recovered hervoicesufficientlytogiveorders thatnooneshouldmentiontheBeauforts toher again, and asked—whenDr.Bencombappeared—what in theworldherfamilymeantbymakingsuchafussaboutherhealth.

"IfpeopleofmyageWILLeatchicken-saladintheeveningwhataretheyto expect?" she enquired; and, the doctor having opportunely modified herdietary, thestrokewastransformedintoanattackofindigestion.Butinspiteof her firm tone old Catherine did not wholly recover her former attitudetowardlife.Thegrowingremotenessofoldage,thoughithadnotdiminished

her curiosity about her neighbours, had blunted her never very livelycompassionfortheirtroubles;andsheseemedtohavenodifficultyinputtingthe Beaufort disaster out of her mind. But for the first time she becameabsorbed in her own symptoms, and began to take a sentimental interest incertainmembersofherfamilytowhomshehadhithertobeencontemptuouslyindifferent.

Mr.Welland,inparticular,hadtheprivilegeofattractinghernotice.Ofhersons-in-law he was the one she had most consistently ignored; and all hiswife's efforts to represent him as a man of forceful character and markedintellectual ability (if he had only "chosen") had been met with a derisivechuckle. But his eminence as a valetudinarian nowmade him an object ofengrossing interest,andMrs.Mingott issuedan imperialsummonstohimtocome and compare diets as soon as his temperature permitted; for oldCatherine was now the first to recognise that one could not be too carefulabouttemperatures.

Twenty-four hours after Madame Olenska's summons a telegramannounced that she would arrive from Washington on the evening of thefollowing day.At theWellands',where theNewlandArchers chanced to belunching, the question as to who should meet her at Jersey City wasimmediately raised; and the material difficulties amid which the Wellandhouseholdstruggledasifithadbeenafrontieroutpost,lentanimationtothedebate.ItwasagreedthatMrs.WellandcouldnotpossiblygotoJerseyCitybecauseshewastoaccompanyherhusbandtooldCatherine'sthatafternoon,andthebroughamcouldnotbespared,since,ifMr.Wellandwere"upset"byseeinghismother-in-lawforthefirsttimeafterherattack,hemighthavetobetakenhomeatamoment'snotice.TheWellandsonswouldofcoursebe"downtown,"Mr.LovellMingottwouldbejusthurryingbackfromhisshooting,andtheMingottcarriageengagedinmeetinghim;andonecouldnotaskMay,atthe close of awinter afternoon, to go alone across the ferry to JerseyCity,even in her own carriage. Nevertheless, it might appear inhospitable—andcontrarytooldCatherine'sexpresswishes—ifMadameOlenskawereallowedtoarrivewithoutanyof thefamilybeingat thestation toreceiveher. ItwasjustlikeEllen,Mrs.Welland'stiredvoiceimplied,toplacethefamilyinsuchadilemma."It'salwaysonethingafteranother,"thepoorladygrieved,inoneofherrarerevoltsagainstfate;"theonlythingthatmakesmethinkMammamustbe lesswell thanDr.Bencombwilladmit is thismorbiddesire tohaveEllencomeatonce,howeverinconvenientitistomeether."

Thewordshadbeenthoughtless,astheutterancesofimpatienceoftenare;andMr.Wellandwasuponthemwithapounce.

"Augusta,"hesaid,turningpaleandlayingdownhisfork,"haveyouanyother reason for thinking thatBencomb is less to be reliedon thanhewas?

Haveyounoticedthathehasbeenlessconscientiousthanusualinfollowingupmycaseoryourmother's?"

ItwasMrs.Welland'sturntogrowpaleastheendlessconsequencesofherblunderunrolledthemselvesbeforeher;butshemanagedtolaugh,andtakeasecondhelpingofscallopedoysters,beforeshesaid,strugglingbackintoheroldarmourofcheerfulness:"Mydear,howcouldyouimaginesuchathing?Ionlymeant that,after thedecidedstandMammatookabout itsbeingEllen'sdutytogobacktoherhusband,itseemsstrangethatsheshouldbeseizedwiththissuddenwhimtoseeher,whentherearehalfadozenothergrandchildrenthatshemighthaveaskedfor.ButwemustneverforgetthatMamma,inspiteofherwonderfulvitality,isaveryoldwoman."

Mr. Welland's brow remained clouded, and it was evident that hisperturbed imagination had fastened at once on this last remark. "Yes: yourmother's a very old woman; and for all we know Bencombmay not be assuccessfulwith very old people.As you say,my dear, it's always one thingafter another; and in another ten or fifteen years I suppose I shall have thepleasing duty of looking about for a new doctor. It's always better tomakesuch a change before it's absolutely necessary." And having arrived at thisSpartandecisionMr.Wellandfirmlytookuphisfork.

"But all the while," Mrs. Welland began again, as she rose from theluncheon-table, and led the way into the wilderness of purple satin andmalachiteknownasthebackdrawing-room,"Idon'tseehowEllen'stobegotheretomorrowevening;andIdoliketohavethingssettledforatleasttwenty-fourhoursahead."

Archer turned from the fascinated contemplation of a small paintingrepresenting twoCardinals carousing, in an octagonal ebony frame setwithmedallionsofonyx.

"ShallIfetchher?"heproposed."Icaneasilygetawayfromtheofficeintime tomeet thebroughamat the ferry, ifMaywill send it there."Hisheartwasbeatingexcitedlyashespoke.

Mrs.Wellandheavedasighofgratitude,andMay,whohadmovedawayto the window, turned to shed on him a beam of approval. "So you see,Mamma,everythingWILLbesettledtwenty-fourhoursinadvance,"shesaid,stoopingovertokisshermother'stroubledforehead.

May'sbroughamawaitedherat thedoor,andshewas todriveArcher toUnion Square,where he could pick up aBroadway car to carry him to theoffice.As she settled herself in her corner she said: "I didn'twant toworryMammabyraisingfreshobstacles;buthowcanyoumeetEllentomorrow,andbringherbacktoNewYork,whenyou'regoingtoWashington?"

"Oh,I'mnotgoing,"Archeranswered.

"Notgoing?Why,what'shappened?"Hervoicewasasclearasabell,andfullofwifelysolicitude.

"Thecaseisoff—postponed."

"Postponed?Howodd!Isawanote thismorningfromMr.Letterblair toMammasayingthathewasgoingtoWashingtontomorrowforthebigpatentcasethathewastoarguebeforetheSupremeCourt.Yousaiditwasapatentcase,didn'tyou?"

"Well—that's it: thewhole office can't go. Letterblair decided to go thismorning."

"Then it'sNOT postponed?" she continued,with an insistence so unlikeher that he felt the blood rising to his face, as if he were blushing for herunwontedlapsefromallthetraditionaldelicacies.

"No:butmygoingis,"heanswered,cursingtheunnecessaryexplanationsthat he had given when he had announced his intention of going toWashington, andwonderingwherehehad read that clever liarsgivedetails,butthat thecleverestdonot.ItdidnothurthimhalfasmuchtotellMayanuntruthastoseehertryingtopretendthatshehadnotdetectedhim.

"I'mnotgoingtilllateron:luckilyfortheconvenienceofyourfamily,"hecontinued, taking base refuge in sarcasm.As he spoke he felt that shewaslooking at him, and he turned his eyes to hers in order not to appear to beavoidingthem.Theirglancesmetforasecond,andperhapsletthemintoeachother'smeaningsmoredeeplythaneithercaredtogo.

"Yes;itISawfullyconvenient,"Maybrightlyagreed,"thatyoushouldbeable to meet Ellen after all; you saw how muchMamma appreciated yourofferingtodoit."

"Oh, I'mdelighted todo it."Thecarriagestopped,andashe jumpedoutsheleanedtohimandlaidherhandonhis."Good-bye,dearest,"shesaid,hereyes so blue that hewondered afterward if they had shone on him throughtears.

HeturnedawayandhurriedacrossUnionSquare,repeatingtohimself,inasortofinwardchant:"It'salloftwohoursfromJerseyCitytooldCatherine's.It'salloftwohours—anditmaybemore."

XXIX.

Hiswife'sdarkbluebrougham(with theweddingvarnishstillon it)metArcher at the ferry, and conveyed him luxuriously to the PennsylvaniaterminusinJerseyCity.

Itwas a sombre snowy afternoon, and the gas-lampswere lit in the bigreverberating station.As he paced the platform,waiting for theWashingtonexpress,herememberedthattherewerepeoplewhothoughttherewouldonedaybeatunnelundertheHudsonthroughwhichthetrainsofthePennsylvaniarailwaywould run straight intoNewYork.Theywereof thebrotherhoodofvisionarieswholikewisepredictedthebuildingofshipsthatwouldcross theAtlanticinfivedays,theinventionofaflyingmachine,lightingbyelectricity,telephoniccommunicationwithoutwires,andotherArabianNightmarvels.

"Idon'tcarewhichoftheirvisionscomestrue,"Archermused,"aslongasthe tunnel isn't built yet." In his senseless school-boy happiness he picturedMadameOlenska'sdescentfromthetrain,hisdiscoveryofheralongwayoff,amongthethrongsofmeaninglessfaces,herclingingtohisarmasheguidedher to thecarriage, their slowapproach to thewharfamongslippinghorses,laden carts, vociferating teamsters, and then the startling quiet of the ferry-boat, where they would sit side by side under the snow, in the motionlesscarriage,whiletheearthseemedtoglideawayunderthem,rollingtotheothersideof thesun. Itwas incredible, thenumberof thingshehad tosay toher,andinwhateloquentordertheywereformingthemselvesonhislips...

The clanging and groaning of the train came nearer, and it staggeredslowly into the station likeaprey-ladenmonster into its lair.Archerpushedforward, elbowing through the crowd, and staringblindly intowindowafterwindow of the high-hung carriages. And then, suddenly, he saw MadameOlenska'spaleandsurprised facecloseathand,andhadagain themortifiedsensationofhavingforgottenwhatshelookedlike.

Theyreachedeachother,theirhandsmet,andhedrewherarmthroughhis."Thisway—Ihavethecarriage,"hesaid.

After that it all happened as he had dreamed. He helped her into thebroughamwithherbags,andhadafterward thevaguerecollectionofhavingproperlyreassuredherabouthergrandmotherandgivenherasummaryoftheBeaufort situation (he was struck by the softness of her: "Poor Regina!").Meanwhilethecarriagehadworkeditswayoutof thecoilaboutthestation,and theywere crawlingdown the slippery incline to thewharf,menacedbyswaying coal-carts, bewildered horses, dishevelled express-wagons, and anemptyhearse—ah,thathearse!Sheshuthereyesasitpassed,andclutchedatArcher'shand.

"Ifonlyitdoesn'tmean—poorGranny!"

"Oh, no, no—she's much better—she's all right, really. There—we'vepassedit!"heexclaimed,asifthatmadeallthedifference.Herhandremainedinhis,andasthecarriagelurchedacrossthegang-plankontotheferryhebentover, unbuttoned her tight brown glove, and kissed her palm as if he hadkissed a relic. She disengaged herselfwith a faint smile, and he said: "Youdidn'texpectmetoday?"

"Oh,no."

"ImeanttogotoWashingtontoseeyou.I'dmadeallmyarrangements—Iverynearlycrossedyouinthetrain."

"Oh—"sheexclaimed,asifterrifiedbythenarrownessoftheirescape.

"Doyouknow—Ihardlyrememberedyou?"

"Hardlyrememberedme?"

"I mean: how shall I explain? I—it's always so. EACH TIME YOUHAPPENTOMEALLOVERAGAIN."

"Oh,yes:Iknow!Iknow!"

"Doesit—doItoo:toyou?"heinsisted.

Shenodded,lookingoutofthewindow.

"Ellen—Ellen—Ellen!"

She made no answer, and he sat in silence, watching her profile growindistinct against the snow-streakedduskbeyond thewindow.Whathad shebeendoinginallthosefourlongmonths,hewondered?Howlittletheyknewofeachother,afterall!Thepreciousmomentswereslippingaway,buthehadforgotteneverythingthathehadmeanttosaytoherandcouldonlyhelplesslybroodonthemysteryoftheirremotenessandtheirproximity,whichseemedtobesymbolisedbythefactoftheirsittingsoclosetoeachother,andyetbeingunabletoseeeachother'sfaces.

"Whataprettycarriage!IsitMay's?"sheasked,suddenlyturningherfacefromthewindow.

"Yes."

"ItwasMaywhosentyoutofetchme,then?Howkindofher!"

He made no answer for a moment; then he said explosively: "Yourhusband'ssecretarycametoseemethedayafterwemetinBoston."

InhisbrieflettertoherhehadmadenoallusiontoM.Riviere'svisit,andhisintentionhadbeentoburytheincidentinhisbosom.Butherreminderthattheywereinhiswife'scarriageprovokedhimtoanimpulseofretaliation.He

wouldseeifshelikedhisreferencetoRiviereanybetterthanhelikedherstoMay!Asoncertainotheroccasionswhenhehadexpectedtoshakeheroutofher usual composure, she betrayed no sign of surprise: and at once heconcluded:"Hewritestoher,then."

"M.Rivierewenttoseeyou?"

"Yes:didn'tyouknow?"

"No,"sheansweredsimply.

"Andyou'renotsurprised?"

Shehesitated."WhyshouldIbe?HetoldmeinBostonthatheknewyou;thathe'dmetyouinEnglandIthink."

"Ellen—Imustaskyouonething."

"Yes."

"IwantedtoaskitafterIsawhim,butIcouldn'tput it ina letter.ItwasRivierewhohelpedyoutogetaway—whenyouleftyourhusband?"

Hisheartwasbeatingsuffocatingly.Wouldshemeetthisquestionwiththesamecomposure?

"Yes: Iowehimagreatdebt," sheanswered,without the least tremor inherquietvoice.

Her tone was so natural, so almost indifferent, that Archer's turmoilsubsided.Oncemoreshehadmanaged,byhersheersimplicity,tomakehimfeelstupidlyconventionaljustwhenhethoughthewasflingingconventiontothewinds.

"Ithinkyou'rethemosthonestwomanIevermet!"heexclaimed.

"Oh,no—butprobablyoneoftheleastfussy,"sheanswered,asmileinhervoice.

"Callitwhatyoulike:youlookatthingsastheyare."

"Ah—I'vehadto.I'vehadtolookattheGorgon."

"Well—ithasn'tblindedyou!You'veseenthatshe'sjustanoldbogeylikealltheothers."

"Shedoesn'tblindone;butshedriesupone'stears."

TheanswercheckedthepleadingonArcher'slips:itseemedtocomefromdepthsofexperiencebeyondhisreach.Theslowadvanceoftheferry-boathadceased,andherbowsbumpedagainstthepilesoftheslipwithaviolencethatmade thebroughamstagger, and flungArcherandMadameOlenskaagainst

eachother.Theyoungman, trembling, felt thepressureofhershoulder,andpassedhisarmabouther.

"Ifyou'renotblind,then,youmustseethatthiscan'tlast."

"Whatcan't?"

"Ourbeingtogether—andnottogether."

"No.Yououghtnottohavecometoday,"shesaidinanalteredvoice;andsuddenlysheturned,flungherarmsabouthimandpressedherlipstohis.Atthesamemomentthecarriagebegantomove,andagas-lampat theheadoftheslipflashed its light into thewindow.Shedrewaway,and theysatsilentand motionless while the brougham struggled through the congestion ofcarriages about the ferry-landing.As they gained the streetArcher began tospeakhurriedly.

"Don'tbeafraidofme:youneedn'tsqueezeyourselfbackintoyourcornerlikethat.Astolenkissisn'twhatIwant.Look:I'mnoteventryingtotouchthesleeveofyour jacket.Don't suppose that Idon'tunderstandyour reasonsfornotwantingtoletthisfeelingbetweenusdwindleintoanordinaryhole-and-corner love-affair. I couldn't have spoken like this yesterday, because whenwe've been apart, and I'm looking forward to seeing you, every thought isburntupinagreatflame.Butthenyoucome;andyou'resomuchmorethanIremembered, andwhat Iwant of you is somuchmore than anhour or twoevery now and then, with wastes of thirsty waiting between, that I can sitperfectly still beside you, like this, with that other vision in mymind, justquietlytrustingtoittocometrue."

Foramomentshemadenoreply;thensheasked,hardlyaboveawhisper:"Whatdoyoumeanbytrustingtoittocometrue?"

"Why—youknowitwill,don'tyou?"

"Yourvisionofyouandmetogether?"Sheburstintoasuddenhardlaugh."Youchooseyourplacewelltoputittome!"

"Doyoumeanbecausewe'reinmywife'sbrougham?Shallwegetoutandwalk,then?Idon'tsupposeyoumindalittlesnow?"

Shelaughedagain,moregently."No;Ishan'tgetoutandwalk,becausemybusinessistogettoGranny'sasquicklyasIcan.Andyou'llsitbesideme,andwe'lllook,notatvisions,butatrealities."

"Idon'tknowwhatyoumeanbyrealities.Theonlyrealitytomeisthis."

Shemet thewordswith a long silence, duringwhich the carriage rolleddownanobscureside-streetandthenturnedintothesearchingilluminationofFifthAvenue.

"Isityouridea,then,thatIshouldlivewithyouasyourmistress—sinceIcan'tbeyourwife?"sheasked.

Thecrudenessofthequestionstartledhim:thewordwasonethatwomenofhisclassfoughtshyof,evenwhentheirtalkflittedclosestaboutthetopic.HenoticedthatMadameOlenskapronounceditasifithadarecognisedplacein her vocabulary, and he wondered if it had been used familiarly in herpresence in the horrible life she had fled from.Her question pulled him upwithajerk,andhefloundered.

"Iwant—Iwantsomehowtogetawaywithyouintoaworldwherewordslike that—categories like that—won't exist. Where we shall be simply twohumanbeingswho loveeachother,whoare thewholeof life toeachother;andnothingelseonearthwillmatter."

Shedrewadeepsighthatendedinanotherlaugh."Oh,mydear—whereisthat country? Have you ever been there?" she asked; and as he remainedsullenly dumb she went on: "I know so many who've tried to find it; and,believe me, they all got out by mistake at wayside stations: at places likeBoulogne,orPisa,orMonteCarlo—anditwasn'tatalldifferentfromtheoldworldthey'dleft,butonlyrathersmalleranddingierandmorepromiscuous."

He had never heard her speak in such a tone, and he remembered thephraseshehadusedalittlewhilebefore.

"Yes,theGorgonHASdriedyourtears,"hesaid.

"Well,sheopenedmyeyestoo;it'sadelusiontosaythatsheblindspeople.What she does is just the contrary—she fastens their eyelids open, so thatthey'reneveragain in theblesseddarkness. Isn't thereaChinese torture likethat?Thereoughttobe.Ah,believeme,it'samiserablelittlecountry!"

The carriage had crossed Forty-second Street: May's sturdy brougham-horse was carrying them northward as if he had been a Kentucky trotter.Archerchokedwiththesenseofwastedminutesandvainwords.

"Thenwhat,exactly,isyourplanforus?"heasked.

"ForUS?Butthere'snoUSinthatsense!We'reneareachotheronlyifwestay far from each other. Then we can be ourselves. Otherwise we're onlyNewlandArcher, thehusbandofEllenOlenska's cousin, andEllenOlenska,thecousinofNewlandArcher'swife,tryingtobehappybehindthebacksofthepeoplewhotrustthem."

"Ah,I'mbeyondthat,"hegroaned.

"No, you're not!You've never been beyond.And I have," she said, in astrangevoice,"andIknowwhatitlookslikethere."

Hesatsilent,dazedwithinarticulatepain.Thenhegropedinthedarknessof the carriage for the little bell that signalled orders to the coachman. Heremembered thatMay rang twicewhen shewished to stop. He pressed thebell,andthecarriagedrewupbesidethecurbstone.

"Why are we stopping? This is not Granny's," Madame Olenskaexclaimed.

"No:Ishallgetouthere,"hestammered,openingthedoorandjumpingtothepavement.By the lightofastreet-lamphesawherstartled face,and theinstinctivemotionshemadetodetainhim.Heclosedthedoor,andleanedforamomentinthewindow.

"You'reright:Ioughtnottohavecometoday,"hesaid,loweringhisvoicesothatthecoachmanshouldnothear.Shebentforward,andseemedabouttospeak; but he had already called out the order to drive on, and the carriagerolledawaywhilehestoodonthecorner.Thesnowwasover,andatinglingwindhadsprungup,thatlashedhisfaceashestoodgazing.Suddenlyhefeltsomethingstiffandcoldonhislashes,andperceivedthathehadbeencrying,andthatthewindhadfrozenhistears.

Hethrusthishandsinhispockets,andwalkedatasharppacedownFifthAvenuetohisownhouse.

XXX.

That evening when Archer came down before dinner he found thedrawing-roomempty.

He andMaywere dining alone, all the family engagements havingbeenpostponed sinceMrs. MansonMingott's illness; and asMay was the morepunctualofthetwohewassurprisedthatshehadnotprecededhim.Heknewthatshewasathome,forwhilehedressedhehadheardhermovingaboutinherroom;andhewonderedwhathaddelayedher.

Hehadfallenintothewayofdwellingonsuchconjecturesasameansoftyinghisthoughtsfasttoreality.Sometimeshefeltasifhehadfoundthecluetohisfather-in-law'sabsorptionintrifles;perhapsevenMr.Welland,longago,hadhadescapesandvisions,andhadconjuredupallthehostsofdomesticitytodefendhimselfagainstthem.

WhenMayappearedhethoughtshelookedtired.Shehadputonthelow-neckedand tightly-laceddinner-dresswhich theMingott ceremonial exactedon the most informal occasions, and had built her fair hair into its usual

accumulatedcoils;andher face, incontrast,waswanandalmost faded.Butshe shoneonhimwithherusual tenderness, andhereyeshadkept thebluedazzleofthedaybefore.

"Whatbecameofyou,dear?"sheasked."IwaswaitingatGranny's,andEllencamealone,andsaidshehaddroppedyouonthewaybecauseyouhadtorushoffonbusiness.There'snothingwrong?"

"OnlysomelettersI'dforgotten,andwantedtogetoffbeforedinner."

"Ah—"shesaid;andamomentafterward:"I'msorryyoudidn'tcometoGranny's—unlesstheletterswereurgent."

"Theywere,"herejoined,surprisedatherinsistence."Besides,Idon'tseewhyIshouldhavegonetoyourgrandmother's.Ididn'tknowyouwerethere."

Sheturnedandmovedtothelooking-glassabovethemantel-piece.Asshestoodthere,liftingherlongarmtofastenapuffthathadslippedfromitsplaceinherintricatehair,Archerwasstruckbysomethinglanguidandinelasticinherattitude, andwondered if thedeadlymonotonyof their liveshad laid itsweight on her also.Then he remembered that, as he had left the house thatmorning, she had called over the stairs that she would meet him at hergrandmother's so that theymightdrivehome together.Hehadcalledbackacheery"Yes!"andthen,absorbedinothervisions,hadforgottenhispromise.Now he was smitten with compunction, yet irritated that so trifling anomissionshouldbestoredupagainsthimafternearlytwoyearsofmarriage.He was weary of living in a perpetual tepid honeymoon, without thetemperatureofpassionyetwithall its exactions. IfMayhadspokenouthergrievances(hesuspectedherofmany)hemighthavelaughedthemaway;butshewastrainedtoconcealimaginarywoundsunderaSpartansmile.

Todisguisehis ownannoyancehe askedhowhergrandmotherwas, andshe answered that Mrs. Mingott was still improving, but had been ratherdisturbedbythelastnewsabouttheBeauforts.

"Whatnews?"

"It seems they'regoing tostay inNewYork. Ibelievehe'sgoing intoaninsurancebusiness,orsomething.They'relookingaboutforasmallhouse."

Thepreposterousnessofthecasewasbeyonddiscussion,andtheywentintodinner.Duringdinnertheirtalkmovedinitsusuallimitedcircle;butArchernoticed that his wife made no allusion to Madame Olenska, nor to oldCatherine's reception of her. He was thankful for the fact, yet felt it to bevaguelyominous.

They went up to the library for coffee, and Archer lit a cigar and tookdownavolumeofMichelet.HehadtakentohistoryintheeveningssinceMay

hadshownatendencytoaskhimtoreadaloudwhenevershesawhimwithavolumeofpoetry:notthathedislikedthesoundofhisownvoice,butbecausehecouldalways foreseehercommentsonwhathe read. In thedaysof theirengagement shehad simply (ashenowperceived)echoedwhathe toldher;butsincehehadceasedtoprovideherwithopinionsshehadbeguntohazardherown,withresultsdestructivetohisenjoymentoftheworkscommentedon.

Seeingthathehadchosenhistoryshefetchedherworkbasket,drewupanarm-chairtothegreen-shadedstudentlamp,anduncoveredacushionshewasembroidering for his sofa. She was not a clever needle-woman; her largecapablehandsweremadeforriding,rowingandopen-airactivities;butsinceotherwivesembroideredcushionsfortheirhusbandsshedidnotwishtoomitthislastlinkinherdevotion.

Shewas soplaced thatArcher,bymerely raisinghiseyes, could seeherbentaboveherwork-frame,herruffledelbow-sleevesslippingbackfromherfirm round arms, the betrothal sapphire shining on her left hand above herbroadgoldwedding-ring,andtherighthandslowlyandlaboriouslystabbingthe canvas.As she sat thus, the lamplight full on her clear brow, he said tohimselfwithasecretdismaythathewouldalwaysknowthethoughtsbehindit, that never, in all the years to come, would she surprise him by anunexpectedmood,byanewidea,aweakness,acrueltyoranemotion.Shehadspent her poetry and romance on their short courting: the function wasexhausted because the need was past. Now she was simply ripening into acopyofhermother,andmysteriously,bytheveryprocess,tryingtoturnhimintoaMr.Welland.He laiddownhisbookandstoodup impatiently;andatoncesheraisedherhead.

"What'sthematter?"

"Theroomisstifling:Iwantalittleair."

Hehadinsistedthatthelibrarycurtainsshoulddrawbackwardandforwardon a rod, so that theymight be closed in the evening, instead of remainingnailedtoagiltcornice,andimmovablyloopedupoverlayersoflace,asinthedrawing-room;andhepulledthembackandpushedupthesash, leaningoutintotheicynight.ThemerefactofnotlookingatMay,seatedbesidehistable,underhislamp,thefactofseeingotherhouses,roofs,chimneys,ofgettingthesense of other lives outside his own, other cities beyond NewYork, and awholeworldbeyondhisworld,clearedhisbrainandmadeiteasiertobreathe.

Afterhehadleanedout into thedarknessforafewminutesheheardhersay:"Newland!Doshutthewindow.You'llcatchyourdeath."

Hepulled thesashdownand turnedback."Catchmydeath!"heechoed;andhefeltlikeadding:"ButI'vecaughtitalready.IAMdead—I'vebeendead

formonthsandmonths."

Andsuddenlytheplayofthewordflashedupawildsuggestion.WhatifitwereSHEwhowasdead! If sheweregoing todie—todiesoon—and leavehim free! The sensation of standing there, in that warm familiar room, andlooking at her, and wishing her dead, was so strange, so fascinating andovermastering,thatitsenormitydidnotimmediatelystrikehim.Hesimplyfeltthatchancehadgivenhimanewpossibilitytowhichhissicksoulmightcling.Yes,Maymight die—peopledid: youngpeople, healthypeople like herself:shemightdie,andsethimsuddenlyfree.

She glanced up, and he saw by her widening eyes that there must besomethingstrangeinhisown.

"Newland!Areyouill?"

He shook his head and turned toward his arm-chair. She bent over herwork-frame, and as he passed he laid his hand on her hair. "PoorMay!" hesaid.

"Poor?Whypoor?"sheechoedwithastrainedlaugh.

"BecauseIshallneverbeable toopenawindowwithoutworryingyou,"herejoined,laughingalso.

Foramomentshewassilent;thenshesaidverylow,herheadbowedoverherwork:"Ishallneverworryifyou'rehappy."

"Ah,mydear;andIshallneverbehappyunlessIcanopenthewindows!"

"InTHISweather?"sheremonstrated;andwithasighheburiedhisheadinhisbook.

Six or seven days passed.Archer heard nothing fromMadameOlenska,andbecameawarethathernamewouldnotbementionedinhispresencebyanymemberofthefamily.Hedidnottrytoseeher;todosowhileshewasatoldCatherine's guarded bedsidewould have been almost impossible. In theuncertaintyof thesituationhe lethimselfdrift,conscious,somewherebelowthesurfaceofhisthoughts,ofaresolvewhichhadcometohimwhenhehadleaned out from his librarywindow into the icy night. The strength of thatresolvemadeiteasytowaitandmakenosign.

ThenonedayMay toldhim thatMrs.MansonMingotthadasked to seehim.Therewasnothingsurprisingintherequest,fortheoldladywassteadilyrecovering,andshehadalwaysopenlydeclared that shepreferredArcher toany of her other grandsons-in-law. May gave the message with evidentpleasure:shewasproudofoldCatherine'sappreciationofherhusband.

Therewasamoment'spause,andthenArcherfeltitincumbentonhimto

say:"Allright.Shallwegotogetherthisafternoon?"

Hiswife's face brightened, but she instantly answered: "Oh, you'dmuchbettergoalone.ItboresGrannytoseethesamepeopletoooften."

Archer'sheartwasbeatingviolentlywhenherangoldMrs.Mingott'sbell.Hehadwantedaboveall things togoalone, forhe felt sure thevisitwouldgivehimthechanceofsayingawordinprivatetotheCountessOlenska.Hehad determined towait till the chance presented itself naturally; and here itwas,andherehewasonthedoorstep.Behindthedoor,behindthecurtainsofthe yellow damask room next to the hall, she was surely awaiting him; inanothermomentheshouldseeher,andbeabletospeaktoherbeforesheledhimtothesick-room.

Hewantedonly toputonequestion:after thathiscoursewouldbeclear.WhathewishedtoaskwassimplythedateofherreturntoWashington;andthatquestionshecouldhardlyrefusetoanswer.

But in the yellow sitting-room itwas themulattomaidwhowaited.Herwhite teeth shining like a keyboard, she pushed back the sliding doors andusheredhimintooldCatherine'spresence.

Theoldwomansatinavastthrone-likearm-chairnearherbed.Besideherwas amahogany stand bearing a cast bronze lampwith an engraved globe,overwhichagreenpapershadehadbeenbalanced.Therewasnotabookoranewspaperinreach,noranyevidenceoffeminineemployment:conversationhadalwaysbeenMrs.Mingott'ssolepursuit,andshewouldhavescorned tofeignaninterestinfancywork.

Archersawnotraceoftheslightdistortionleftbyherstroke.Shemerelylooked paler, with darker shadows in the folds and recesses of her obesity;and,intheflutedmob-captiedbyastarchedbowbetweenherfirsttwochins,andthemuslinkerchiefcrossedoverherbillowingpurpledressing-gown,sheseemed likesomeshrewdandkindlyancestressofherownwhomighthaveyieldedtoofreelytothepleasuresofthetable.

Sheheldoutoneofthelittlehandsthatnestledinahollowofherhugelaplike pet animals, and called to the maid: "Don't let in any one else. If mydaughterscall,sayI'masleep."

Themaiddisappeared,andtheoldladyturnedtohergrandson.

"My dear, am I perfectly hideous?" she asked gaily, launching out onehand in search of the folds of muslin on her inaccessible bosom. "Mydaughterstellmeitdoesn'tmatteratmyage—asifhideousnessdidn'tmatterallthemoretheharderitgetstoconceal!"

"Mydear,you'rehandsomerthanever!"Archerrejoinedinthesametone;

andshethrewbackherheadandlaughed.

"Ah, but not as handsome as Ellen!" she jerked out, twinkling at himmaliciously; and before he could answer she added: "Was she so awfullyhandsomethedayyoudroveherupfromtheferry?"

He laughed,andshecontinued: "Was itbecauseyou toldher so that shehad toputyououton theway? Inmyyouthyoungmendidn'tdesertprettywomenunlesstheyweremadeto!"Shegaveanotherchuckle,andinterruptedittosayalmostquerulously:"It'sapityshedidn'tmarryyou;Ialwaystoldherso. Itwouldhavesparedmeall thisworry.Butwhoever thoughtofsparingtheirgrandmotherworry?"

Archerwonderedifherillnesshadblurredherfaculties;butsuddenlyshebrokeout: "Well, it's settled,anyhow:she'sgoing to staywithme,whatevertherestof the familysay!Shehadn'tbeenhere fiveminutesbeforeI'dhavegone down onmy knees to keep her—if only, for the last twenty years, I'dbeenabletoseewherethefloorwas!"

Archerlistenedinsilence,andshewenton:"They'dtalkedmeover,asnodoubtyouknow:persuadedme,Lovell,andLetterblair,andAugustaWelland,andalltherestofthem,thatImustholdoutandcutoffherallowance,tillshewasmade to see that it was her duty to go back to Olenski. They thoughtthey'dconvincedmewhen thesecretary,orwhateverhewas,cameoutwiththelastproposals:handsomeproposalsIconfesstheywere.Afterall,marriageis marriage, and money's money—both useful things in their way ... and Ididn't knowwhat to answer—"She broke off and drew a long breath, as ifspeakinghadbecomeaneffort."ButtheminuteIlaideyesonher,Isaid:'Yousweetbird,you!Shutyouupinthatcageagain?Never!'Andnowit'ssettledthat she's to stay here and nurse herGranny as long as there's aGranny tonurse. It's not a gay prospect, but she doesn'tmind; and of course I've toldLetterblairthatshe'stobegivenherproperallowance."

Theyoungmanheardherwithveinsaglow;butinhisconfusionofmindhehardlyknewwhether her newsbrought joyor pain.Hehad sodefinitelydecidedon the coursehemeant topursue that for themomenthe couldnotreadjusthisthoughts.Butgraduallytherestoleoverhimthedelicioussenseofdifficulties deferred and opportunities miraculously provided. If Ellen hadconsented to comeand livewithher grandmother itmust surelybebecauseshehadrecognisedtheimpossibilityofgivinghimup.Thiswasheranswertohisfinalappealoftheotherday:ifshewouldnottaketheextremestephehadurged,shehadatlastyieldedtohalf-measures.Hesankbackintothethoughtwith the involuntary relief of amanwhohas been ready to risk everything,andsuddenlytastesthedangeroussweetnessofsecurity.

"Shecouldn'thavegoneback—itwasimpossible!"heexclaimed.

"Ah,mydear,Ialwaysknewyouwereonherside;andthat'swhyIsentforyoutoday,andwhyIsaidtoyourprettywife,whensheproposedtocomewithyou:'No,mydear,I'mpiningtoseeNewland,andIdon'twantanybodytoshareourtransports.'Foryousee,mydear—"shedrewherheadbackasfarasitstetheringchinspermitted,andlookedhimfullintheeyes—"yousee,weshall have a fight yet. The family don't want her here, and they'll say it'sbecauseI'vebeenill,becauseI'maweakoldwoman,thatshe'spersuadedme.I'mnotwellenoughyettofightthemonebyone,andyou'vegottodoitforme."

"I?"hestammered.

"You.Whynot?"shejerkedbackathim,herroundeyessuddenlyassharpas pen-knives. Her hand fluttered from its chair-arm and lit on his with aclutchoflittlepalenailslikebird-claws."Whynot?"shesearchinglyrepeated.

Archer,undertheexposureofhergaze,hadrecoveredhisself-possession.

"Oh,Idon'tcount—I'mtooinsignificant."

"Well, you're Letterblair's partner, ain't you? You've got to get at themthroughLetterblair.Unlessyou'vegotareason,"sheinsisted.

"Oh,mydear, Ibackyou toholdyourownagainst themallwithoutmyhelp;butyoushallhaveitifyouneedit,"hereassuredher.

"Then we're safe!" she sighed; and smiling on him with all her ancientcunning she added, as she settled her head among the cushions: "I alwaysknewyou'dbackusup,becausetheyneverquoteyouwhentheytalkaboutitsbeingherdutytogohome."

Hewinceda little ather terrifyingperspicacity, and longed to ask: "AndMay—dotheyquoteher?"Buthejudgeditsafertoturnthequestion.

"AndMadameOlenska?WhenamItoseeher?"hesaid.

Theoldladychuckled,crumpledherlids,andwentthroughthepantomimeofarchness."Nottoday.Oneatatime,please.MadameOlenska'sgoneout."

He flushed with disappointment, and she went on: "She's gone out, mychild:goneinmycarriagetoseeReginaBeaufort."

Shepausedforthisannouncementtoproduceitseffect."That'swhatshe'sreducedmetoalready.Thedayaftershegotheresheputonherbestbonnet,and told me, as cool as a cucumber, that she was going to call on ReginaBeaufort.'Idon'tknowher;whoisshe?'saysI.'She'syourgrand-niece,andamostunhappywoman,' shesays. 'She's thewifeofa scoundrel,' I answered.'Well,' she says, 'and so am I, andyet allmy familywantme togoback tohim.'Well,thatflooredme,andIlethergo;andfinallyonedayshesaiditwas

rainingtoohardtogooutonfoot,andshewantedmetolendhermycarriage.'What for?' I asked her; and she said: 'To go and see cousin Regina'—COUSIN!Now,mydear,Ilookedoutofthewindow,andsawitwasn'traininga drop; but I understood her, and I let her have the carriage.... After all,Regina'sabravewoman,andso isshe;andI'vealways likedcourageaboveeverything."

Archerbentdownandpressedhislipsonthelittlehandthatstilllayonhis.

"Eh—eh—eh!Whosehanddidyouthinkyouwerekissing,youngman—yourwife's,Ihope?"theoldladysnappedoutwithhermockingcackle;andasherosetogoshecalledoutafterhim:"GiveherherGranny'slove;butyou'dbetternotsayanythingaboutourtalk."

XXXI.

ArcherhadbeenstunnedbyoldCatherine'snews.ItwasonlynaturalthatMadameOlenska shouldhavehastened fromWashington in response to hergrandmother'ssummons;butthatsheshouldhavedecidedtoremainunderherroof—especiallynowthatMrs.Mingotthadalmostregainedherhealth—waslesseasytoexplain.

ArcherwassurethatMadameOlenska'sdecisionhadnotbeeninfluencedbythechangeinherfinancialsituation.Heknewtheexactfigureofthesmallincomewhich her husband had allowed her at their separation.Without theaddition of her grandmother's allowance itwas hardly enough to live on, inany senseknown to theMingottvocabulary; andnow thatMedoraManson,whosharedher life,hadbeen ruined, suchapittancewouldbarelykeep thetwowomenclothedandfed.YetArcherwasconvincedthatMadameOlenskahadnotacceptedhergrandmother'sofferfrominterestedmotives.

She had the heedless generosity and the spasmodic extravagance ofpersons used to large fortunes, and indifferent to money; but she could gowithoutmany thingswhichher relations considered indispensable, andMrs.LovellMingottandMrs.WellandhadoftenbeenheardtodeplorethatanyonewhohadenjoyedthecosmopolitanluxuriesofCountOlenski'sestablishmentsshouldcaresolittleabout"howthingsweredone."Moreover,asArcherknew,severalmonths had passed since her allowance had been cut off; yet in theintervalshehadmadenoefforttoregainhergrandmother'sfavour.Thereforeifshehadchangedhercourseitmustbeforadifferentreason.

Hedidnothavefartoseekforthatreason.Onthewayfromtheferryshehad toldhimthatheandshemust remainapart;butshehadsaid itwithher

head on his breast. He knew that there was no calculated coquetry in herwords;shewasfightingherfateashehadfoughthis,andclingingdesperatelyto her resolve that they should not break faith with the peoplewho trustedthem.ButduringthetendayswhichhadelapsedsinceherreturntoNewYorkshehadperhapsguessedfromhissilence,andfromthefactofhismakingnoattempttoseeher, thathewasmeditatingadecisivestep,astepfromwhichtherewasnoturningback.Atthethought,asuddenfearofherownweaknessmighthaveseizedher,andshemighthavefelt that,afterall, itwasbettertoaccept the compromise usual in such cases, and follow the line of leastresistance.

Anhourearlier,whenhehadrungMrs.Mingott'sbell,Archerhadfanciedthathispathwasclearbeforehim.Hehadmeant tohaveawordalonewithMadameOlenska,andfailingthat,tolearnfromhergrandmotheronwhatday,andbywhichtrain,shewasreturningtoWashington.Inthattrainheintendedtojoinher,andtravelwithhertoWashington,orasmuchfartherasshewaswilling to go. His own fancy inclined to Japan. At any rate she wouldunderstandatoncethat,wherevershewent,hewasgoing.HemeanttoleaveanoteforMaythatshouldcutoffanyotheralternative.

Hehadfanciedhimselfnotonlynervedforthisplungebuteagertotakeit;yethisfirstfeelingonhearingthatthecourseofeventswaschangedhadbeenoneofrelief.Now,however,ashewalkedhomefromMrs.Mingott's,hewasconsciousof agrowingdistaste forwhat laybeforehim.Therewasnothingunknownorunfamiliar in thepathhewaspresumably to tread;butwhenhehadtroddenitbeforeitwasasafreeman,whowasaccountabletonooneforhisactions,andcouldlendhimselfwithanamuseddetachmenttothegameofprecautions and prevarications, concealments and compliances, that the partrequired.Thisprocedurewas called "protecting awoman'shonour"; and thebestfiction,combinedwiththeafter-dinnertalkofhiselders,hadlongsinceinitiatedhimintoeverydetailofitscode.

Nowhesawthematterinanewlight,andhispartinitseemedsingularlydiminished. Itwas, in fact, thatwhich,witha secret fatuity,hehadwatchedMrs. Thorley Rushworth play toward a fond and unperceiving husband: asmiling,bantering,humouring,watchfulandincessant lie.Aliebyday,a liebynight,alieineverytouchandeverylook;alieineverycaressandeveryquarrel;alieineverywordandineverysilence.

Itwaseasier,andlessdastardlyonthewhole,forawifetoplaysuchaparttowardherhusband.Awoman'sstandardoftruthfulnesswastacitlyheldtobelower: shewas the subject creature, and versed in the arts of the enslaved.Thenshecouldalwayspleadmoodsandnerves,andtherightnot tobeheldtoo strictly to account; and even in themost strait-laced societies the laughwasalwaysagainstthehusband.

But in Archer's little world no one laughed at a wife deceived, and acertain measure of contempt was attached to men who continued theirphilandering aftermarriage. In the rotation of crops therewas a recognisedseasonforwildoats;buttheywerenottobesownmorethanonce.

Archer had always shared this view: in his heart he thought Leffertsdespicable.ButtoloveEllenOlenskawasnottobecomeamanlikeLefferts:forthefirsttimeArcherfoundhimselffacetofacewiththedreadargumentofthe individualcase.EllenOlenskawas likenootherwoman,hewas likenootherman: their situation, therefore, resemblednoone else's, and theywereanswerabletonotribunalbutthatoftheirownjudgment.

Yes,butintenminutesmorehewouldbemountinghisowndoorstep;andtherewereMay,andhabit,andhonour,andall theolddecenciesthatheandhispeoplehadalwaysbelievedin...

Athiscornerhehesitated,andthenwalkedondownFifthAvenue.

Aheadofhim, in thewinternight, loomedabigunlithouse.Ashedrewnear he thought how often he had seen it blazing with lights, its stepsawningedandcarpeted,andcarriageswaitingindoublelinetodrawupatthecurbstone.Itwasintheconservatorythatstretcheditsdead-blackbulkdownthe side street that he had taken his first kiss fromMay; it was under themyriadcandlesof theball-room thathehadseenherappear, tall andsilver-shiningasayoungDiana.

Nowthehousewasasdarkasthegrave,exceptforafaintflareofgasinthebasement,anda light inoneupstairs roomwhere theblindhadnotbeenlowered.AsArcherreachedthecornerhesawthatthecarriagestandingatthedoorwasMrs.MansonMingott's.WhatanopportunityforSillertonJackson,ifheshouldchancetopass!ArcherhadbeengreatlymovedbyoldCatherine'saccount of Madame Olenska's attitude toward Mrs. Beaufort; it made therighteousreprobationofNewYorkseemlikeapassingbyontheotherside.But he knew well enough what construction the clubs and drawing-roomswouldputonEllenOlenska'svisitstohercousin.

Hepausedandlookedupatthelightedwindow.Nodoubtthetwowomenweresitting together in thatroom:Beauforthadprobablysoughtconsolationelsewhere.Therewere even rumours that hehad leftNewYorkwithFannyRing;butMrs.Beaufort'sattitudemadethereportseemimprobable.

ArcherhadthenocturnalperspectiveofFifthAvenuealmosttohimself.Atthathourmostpeoplewereindoors,dressingfordinner;andhewassecretlyglad that Ellen's exit was likely to be unobserved. As the thought passedthroughhismindthedooropened,andshecameout.Behindherwasafaintlight, suchasmighthavebeencarrieddown the stairs to showher theway.

She turned to say aword to some one; then the door closed, and she camedownthesteps.

"Ellen,"hesaidinalowvoice,asshereachedthepavement.

She stoppedwith a slight start, and just then he saw two youngmen offashionable cut approaching. There was a familiar air about their overcoatsandthewaytheirsmartsilkmufflerswerefoldedovertheirwhiteties;andhewonderedhowyouthsoftheirqualityhappenedtobediningoutsoearly.Thenhe remembered that the Reggie Chiverses, whose house was a few doorsabove, were taking a large party that evening to see Adelaide Neilson inRomeoandJuliet,andguessedthatthetwowereofthenumber.Theypassedunderalamp,andherecognisedLawrenceLeffertsandayoungChivers.

Amean desire not to haveMadameOlenska seen at theBeauforts' doorvanishedashefeltthepenetratingwarmthofherhand.

"Ishallseeyounow—weshallbetogether,"hebrokeout,hardlyknowingwhathesaid.

"Ah,"sheanswered,"Grannyhastoldyou?"

WhilehewatchedherhewasawarethatLeffertsandChivers,onreachingthe farther side of the street corner, had discreetly struck away across FifthAvenue.Itwasthekindofmasculinesolidaritythathehimselfoftenpractised;nowhesickenedat theirconnivance.Didshereally imagine thatheandshecouldlivelikethis?Andifnot,whatelsedidsheimagine?

"TomorrowImustseeyou—somewherewherewecanbealone,"hesaid,inavoicethatsoundedalmostangrytohisownears.

Shewavered,andmovedtowardthecarriage.

"But I shall be at Granny's—for the present that is," she added, as ifconsciousthatherchangeofplansrequiredsomeexplanation.

"Somewherewherewecanbealone,"heinsisted.

Shegaveafaintlaughthatgratedonhim.

"InNewYork?Buttherearenochurches...nomonuments."

"There's the Art Museum—in the Park," he explained, as she lookedpuzzled."Athalf-pasttwo.Ishallbeatthedoor..."

Sheturnedawaywithoutansweringandgotquicklyintothecarriage.Asitdrove off she leaned forward, and he thought she waved her hand in theobscurity.Hestaredafterherinaturmoilofcontradictoryfeelings.Itseemedtohimthathehadbeenspeakingnottothewomanhelovedbuttoanother,awomanhewasindebtedtoforpleasuresalreadyweariedof:itwashatefulto

findhimselftheprisonerofthishackneyedvocabulary.

"She'llcome!"hesaidtohimself,almostcontemptuously.

Avoidingthepopular"Wolfecollection,"whoseanecdoticcanvasesfilledone of themain galleries of the queerwilderness of cast-iron and encaustictilesknownastheMetropolitanMuseum,theyhadwandereddownapassagetotheroomwherethe"Cesnolaantiquities"moulderedinunvisitedloneliness.

Theyhad thismelancholy retreat to themselves, and seated on the divanenclosing the central steam-radiator, they were staring silently at the glasscabinetsmountedinebonisedwoodwhichcontainedtherecoveredfragmentsofIlium.

"It'sodd,"MadameOlenskasaid,"Inevercameherebefore."

"Ah,well—.Someday,Isuppose,itwillbeagreatMuseum."

"Yes,"sheassentedabsently.

She stood up and wandered across the room. Archer, remaining seated,watched the lightmovements of her figure, so girlish even under its heavyfurs, thecleverlyplantedheronwinginherfurcap,andthewayadarkcurllay like a flattened vine spiral on each cheek above the ear. His mind, asalwayswhentheyfirstmet,waswhollyabsorbedinthedeliciousdetailsthatmade her herself and no other. Presently he rose and approached the casebefore which she stood. Its glass shelves were crowded with small brokenobjects—hardlyrecognisabledomesticutensils,ornamentsandpersonaltrifles—made of glass, of clay, of discoloured bronze and other time-blurredsubstances.

"Itseemscruel,"shesaid,"thatafterawhilenothingmatters...anymorethan these little things, that used to be necessary and important to forgottenpeople,andnowhavetobeguessedatunderamagnifyingglassandlabelled:'Useunknown.'"

"Yes;butmeanwhile—"

"Ah,meanwhile—"

Asshe stood there, inher long sealskincoat,herhands thrust ina smallroundmuff,herveildrawndownlikeatransparentmasktothetipofhernose,and the bunch of violets he had brought her stirringwith her quickly-takenbreath,itseemedincrediblethatthispureharmonyoflineandcolourshouldeversufferthestupidlawofchange.

"Meanwhileeverythingmatters—thatconcernsyou,"hesaid.

Shelookedathimthoughtfully,andturnedbacktothedivan.Hesatdownbesideherandwaited;butsuddenlyheheardastepechoingfaroffdownthe

emptyrooms,andfeltthepressureoftheminutes.

"What is ityouwanted to tellme?"sheasked,as ifshehadreceived thesamewarning.

"WhatIwantedtotellyou?"herejoined."Why,thatIbelieveyoucametoNewYorkbecauseyouwereafraid."

"Afraid?"

"OfmycomingtoWashington."

Shelookeddownathermuff,andhesawherhandsstirinituneasily.

"Well—?"

"Well—yes,"shesaid.

"YouWEREafraid?Youknew—?"

"Yes:Iknew..."

"Well,then?"heinsisted.

"Well, then: this is better, isn't it?" she returnedwith a long questioningsigh.

"Better—?"

"Weshallhurtothersless.Isn'tit,afterall,whatyoualwayswanted?"

"Tohaveyouhere,youmean—inreachandyetoutofreach?Tomeetyouinthisway,onthesly?It'stheveryreverseofwhatIwant.ItoldyoutheotherdaywhatIwanted."

Shehesitated."Andyoustillthinkthis—worse?"

"A thousand times!"He paused. "Itwould be easy to lie to you; but thetruthisIthinkitdetestable."

"Oh,sodoI!"shecriedwithadeepbreathofrelief.

He sprangup impatiently. "Well, then—it'smy turn to ask:what is it, inGod'sname,thatyouthinkbetter?"

She hung her head and continued to clasp and unclasp her hands in hermuff.Thestepdrewnearer,andaguardianinabraidedcapwalkedlistlesslythroughtheroomlikeaghoststalkingthroughanecropolis.Theyfixedtheireyes simultaneouslyon the caseopposite them, andwhen theofficial figurehadvanisheddownavistaofmummiesandsarcophagiArcherspokeagain.

"Whatdoyouthinkbetter?"

Insteadofansweringshemurmured:"IpromisedGrannytostaywithher

becauseitseemedtomethathereIshouldbesafer."

"Fromme?"

Shebentherheadslightly,withoutlookingathim.

"Saferfromlovingme?"

Herprofiledidnotstir,buthesawatearoverflowonherlashesandhanginameshofherveil.

"Saferfromdoingirreparableharm.Don'tletusbelikealltheothers!"sheprotested.

"Whatothers?Idon'tprofesstobedifferentfrommykind.I'mconsumedbythesamewantsandthesamelongings."

Sheglancedathimwithakindof terror, andhe sawa faint colour stealintohercheeks.

"ShallI—oncecometoyou;andthengohome?"shesuddenlyhazardedinalowclearvoice.

Thebloodrushedtotheyoungman'sforehead."Dearest!"hesaid,withoutmoving.Itseemedasifheheldhisheartinhishands,likeafullcupthattheleastmotionmightoverbrim.

Thenherlastphrasestruckhisearandhisfaceclouded."Gohome?Whatdoyoumeanbygoinghome?"

"Hometomyhusband."

"Andyouexpectmetosayyestothat?"

Sheraisedher troubledeyes tohis. "Whatelse is there? Ican't stayhereandlietothepeoplewho'vebeengoodtome."

"Butthat'stheveryreasonwhyIaskyoutocomeaway!"

"Anddestroytheirlives,whenthey'vehelpedmetoremakemine?"

Archer sprang to his feet and stood looking down on her in inarticulatedespair.Itwouldhavebeeneasytosay:"Yes,come;comeonce."Heknewthepower she would put in his hands if she consented; there would be nodifficultytheninpersuadinghernottogobacktoherhusband.

Butsomethingsilencedthewordonhislips.Asortofpassionatehonestyinhermadeit inconceivablethatheshouldtrytodrawherintothatfamiliartrap."IfIweretolethercome,"hesaidtohimself,"Ishouldhavetolethergoagain."Andthatwasnottobeimagined.

Buthesawtheshadowofthelashesonherwetcheek,andwavered.

"After all,"hebeganagain, "wehave livesofourown....There'snouseattemptingtheimpossible.You'resounprejudicedaboutsomethings,soused,asyousay, to lookingat theGorgon, that Idon'tknowwhyyou'reafraid tofaceourcase,andsee it as it really is—unlessyou think the sacrifice isnotworthmaking."

Shestoodupalso,herlipstighteningunderarapidfrown.

"Callitthat,then—Imustgo,"shesaid,drawingherlittlewatchfromherbosom.

Sheturnedaway,andhefollowedandcaughtherbythewrist."Well,then:cometomeonce,"hesaid,hisheadturningsuddenlyatthethoughtoflosingher;andforasecondortwotheylookedateachotheralmostlikeenemies.

"When?"heinsisted."Tomorrow?"

Shehesitated."Thedayafter."

"Dearest—!"hesaidagain.

She had disengaged herwrist; but for amoment they continued to holdeachother'seyes,andhesawthatherface,whichhadgrownverypale,wasfloodedwithadeepinnerradiance.Hisheartbeatwithawe:hefeltthathehadneverbeforebeheldlovevisible.

"Oh,Ishallbelate—good-bye.No,don'tcomeanyfartherthanthis,"shecried,walkinghurriedlyawaydownthelongroom,asifthereflectedradiancein his eyes had frightened her.When she reached the door she turned for amomenttowaveaquickfarewell.

Archerwalkedhomealone.Darknesswasfallingwhenhelethimselfintohis house, and he looked about at the familiar objects in the hall as if heviewedthemfromtheothersideofthegrave.

Theparlour-maid,hearinghisstep,ranupthestairstolightthegasontheupperlanding.

"IsMrs.Archerin?"

"No, sir;Mrs.Archerwentout in the carriage after luncheon, andhasn'tcomeback."

Withasenseofreliefheenteredthelibraryandflunghimselfdowninhisarmchair.Theparlour-maid followed,bringing the student lampandshakingsomecoalsontothedyingfire.Whenshelefthecontinuedtositmotionless,hiselbowsonhisknees,hischinonhisclaspedhands,hiseyesfixedontheredgrate.

Hesattherewithoutconsciousthoughts,withoutsenseofthelapseoftime,

in a deep and grave amazement that seemed to suspend life rather thanquickenit."Thiswaswhathadtobe,then...thiswaswhathadtobe,"hekeptrepeating to himself, as if he hung in the clutch of doom. What he haddreamedofhadbeensodifferentthattherewasamortalchillinhisrapture.

ThedooropenedandMaycamein.

"I'm dreadfully late—youweren'tworried,were you?" she asked, layingherhandonhisshoulderwithoneofherrarecaresses.

Helookedupastonished."Isitlate?"

"Afterseven.Ibelieveyou'vebeenasleep!"Shelaughed,anddrawingoutherhatpinstossedhervelvethatonthesofa.Shelookedpalerthanusual,butsparklingwithanunwontedanimation.

"IwenttoseeGranny,andjustasIwasgoingawayEllencameinfromawalk;soIstayedandhadalongtalkwithher.Itwasagessincewe'dhadarealtalk...."Shehaddroppedintoherusualarmchair,facinghis,andwasrunningherfingersthroughherrumpledhair.Hefanciedsheexpectedhimtospeak.

"Areallygoodtalk,"shewenton,smilingwithwhatseemedtoArcheranunnatural vividness. "She was so dear—just like the old Ellen. I'm afraid Ihaven'tbeenfairtoherlately.I'vesometimesthought—"

Archer stoodup and leanedagainst themantelpiece, outof the radiusofthelamp.

"Yes,you'vethought—?"heechoedasshepaused.

"Well, perhaps I haven't judgedher fairly.She's sodifferent—at least onthesurface.Shetakesupsuchoddpeople—sheseemstoliketomakeherselfconspicuous.Isupposeit's thelifeshe'sledinthatfastEuropeansociety;nodoubtweseemdreadfullydulltoher.ButIdon'twanttojudgeherunfairly."

She paused again, a little breathless with the unwonted length of herspeech,andsatwithherlipsslightlypartedandadeepblushonhercheeks.

Archer,ashelookedather,wasremindedoftheglowwhichhadsuffusedherfaceintheMissionGardenatSt.Augustine.Hebecameawareofthesameobscure effort in her, the same reaching out toward something beyond theusualrangeofhervision.

"ShehatesEllen," he thought, "and she's trying toovercome the feeling,andtogetmetohelphertoovercomeit."

Thethoughtmovedhim,andforamomenthewasonthepointofbreakingthesilencebetweenthem,andthrowinghimselfonhermercy.

"Youunderstand,don'tyou,"shewenton,"whythefamilyhavesometimes

beenannoyed?Wealldidwhatwecouldforheratfirst;butsheneverseemedtounderstand.AndnowthisideaofgoingtoseeMrs.Beaufort,ofgoingthereinGranny'scarriage!I'mafraidshe'squitealienatedthevanderLuydens..."

"Ah," said Archer with an impatient laugh. The open door had closedbetweenthemagain.

"It'stimetodress;we'rediningout,aren'twe?"heasked,movingfromthefire.

She rose also, but lingered near the hearth. As he walked past her shemoved forward impulsively, as though todetainhim: their eyesmet, andhesawthatherswereofthesameswimmingblueaswhenhehadlefthertodrivetoJerseyCity.

Sheflungherarmsabouthisneckandpressedhercheektohis.

"You haven't kissed me today," she said in a whisper; and he felt hertrembleinhisarms.

XXXII.

"At the court of the Tuileries," said Mr. Sillerton Jackson with hisreminiscentsmile,"suchthingswereprettyopenlytolerated."

ThescenewasthevanderLuydens'blackwalnutdining-roominMadisonAvenue,andthetimetheeveningafterNewlandArcher'svisittotheMuseumofArt.Mr.andMrs.vanderLuydenhadcometotownforafewdaysfromSkuytercliff, whither they had precipitately fled at the announcement ofBeaufort'sfailure.Ithadbeenrepresentedtothemthatthedisarrayintowhichsocietyhadbeenthrownbythisdeplorableaffairmadetheirpresenceintownmorenecessary thanever. Itwasoneof theoccasionswhen,asMrs.Archerputit,they"owedittosociety"toshowthemselvesattheOpera,andeventoopentheirowndoors.

"Itwillneverdo,mydearLouisa,toletpeoplelikeMrs.LemuelStruthersthinktheycanstepintoRegina'sshoes.Itisjustatsuchtimesthatnewpeoplepushinandgetafooting.Itwasowingtotheepidemicofchicken-poxinNewYork the winterMrs. Struthers first appeared that the married men slippedawaytoherhousewhiletheirwiveswereinthenursery.YouanddearHenry,Louisa,muststandinthebreachasyoualwayshave."

Mr. andMrs. van der Luyden could not remain deaf to such a call, andreluctantly but heroically they had come to town, unmuffled the house, andsentoutinvitationsfortwodinnersandaneveningreception.

OnthisparticulareveningtheyhadinvitedSillertonJackson,Mrs.ArcherandNewland and his wife to gowith them to the Opera, where Faust wasbeingsungforthefirsttimethatwinter.Nothingwasdonewithoutceremonyunder the van der Luyden roof, and though there were but four guests therepasthadbegunatsevenpunctually,so that thepropersequenceofcoursesmight be served without haste before the gentlemen settled down to theircigars.

Archerhadnotseenhiswifesincetheeveningbefore.Hehadleftearlyforthe office, where he had plunged into an accumulation of unimportantbusiness.Intheafternoononeoftheseniorpartnershadmadeanunexpectedcallonhistime;andhehadreachedhomesolatethatMayhadprecededhimtothevanderLuydens',andsentbackthecarriage.

Now,across theSkuytercliff carnationsand themassiveplate, she struckhimaspaleandlanguid;buthereyesshone,andshetalkedwithexaggeratedanimation.

The subject which had called forth Mr. Sillerton Jackson's favouriteallusionhadbeenbroughtup(Archer fanciednotwithout intention)by theirhostess.TheBeaufortfailure,orrathertheBeaufortattitudesincethefailure,wasstillafruitfulthemeforthedrawing-roommoralist;andafterithadbeenthoroughly examined and condemnedMrs. van der Luyden had turned herscrupulouseyesonMayArcher.

"Isitpossible,dear,thatwhatIhearistrue?IwastoldyourgrandmotherMingott's carriage was seen standing at Mrs. Beaufort's door." It wasnoticeablethatshenolongercalledtheoffendingladybyherChristianname.

May'scolourrose,andMrs.Archerputinhastily:"Ifitwas,I'mconvinceditwastherewithoutMrs.Mingott'sknowledge."

"Ah,you think—?"Mrs. vanderLuydenpaused, sighed, andglanced atherhusband.

"I'mafraid,"Mr.vanderLuydensaid,"thatMadameOlenska'skindheartmayhaveledherintotheimprudenceofcallingonMrs.Beaufort."

"Orhertasteforpeculiarpeople,"putinMrs.Archerinadrytone,whilehereyesdweltinnocentlyonherson's.

"I'msorrytothinkitofMadameOlenska,"saidMrs.vanderLuyden;andMrs. Archer murmured: "Ah, my dear—and after you'd had her twice atSkuytercliff!"

ItwasatthispointthatMr.Jacksonseizedthechancetoplacehisfavouriteallusion.

"AttheTuileries,"herepeated,seeingtheeyesofthecompanyexpectantly

turned on him, "the standard was excessively lax in some respects; and ifyou'd askedwhereMorny'smoney came from—!Orwho paid the debts ofsomeoftheCourtbeauties..."

"Ihope,dearSillerton,"saidMrs.Archer,"youarenotsuggestingthatweshouldadoptsuchstandards?"

"I never suggest," returned Mr. Jackson imperturbably. "But MadameOlenska'sforeignbringing-upmaymakeherlessparticular—"

"Ah,"thetwoelderladiessighed.

"Still, tohavekepthergrandmother's carriageat adefaulter'sdoor!"Mr.vanderLuydenprotested;andArcherguessedthathewasremembering,andresenting,thehampersofcarnationshehadsenttothelittlehouseinTwenty-thirdStreet.

"OfcourseI'vealwayssaidthatshelooksatthingsquitedifferently,"Mrs.Archersummedup.

AflushrosetoMay'sforehead.Shelookedacrossthetableatherhusband,andsaidprecipitately:"I'msureEllenmeantitkindly."

"Imprudent people are often kind," saidMrs.Archer, as if the factwerescarcelyanextenuation;andMrs.vanderLuydenmurmured:"Ifonlyshehadconsultedsomeone—"

"Ah,thatsheneverdid!"Mrs.Archerrejoined.

At thispointMr.vanderLuydenglancedathiswife,whobentherheadslightlyinthedirectionofMrs.Archer;andtheglimmeringtrainsofthethreeladiessweptoutofthedoorwhilethegentlemensettleddowntotheircigars.Mr. van der Luyden supplied short ones onOpera nights; but theywere sogoodthattheymadehisguestsdeplorehisinexorablepunctuality.

Archer,after the firstact,haddetachedhimself from thepartyandmadehis way to the back of the club box. From there he watched, over variousChivers,MingottandRushworthshoulders,thesamescenethathehadlookedat,twoyearspreviously,onthenightofhisfirstmeetingwithEllenOlenska.He had half-expected her to appear again in oldMrs.Mingott's box, but itremainedempty;andhesatmotionless,hiseyes fastenedon it, till suddenlyMadameNilsson'spuresopranobrokeoutinto"M'ama,nonm'ama..."

Archerturnedtothestage,where,inthefamiliarsettingofgiantrosesandpen-wiperpansies,thesamelargeblondevictimwassuccumbingtothesamesmallbrownseducer.

FromthestagehiseyeswanderedtothepointofthehorseshoewhereMaysat between two older ladies, just as, on that former evening, she had sat

betweenMrs.LovellMingottandhernewly-arrived"foreign"cousin.Asonthatevening,shewasallinwhite;andArcher,whohadnotnoticedwhatshewore,recognisedtheblue-whitesatinandoldlaceofherweddingdress.

It was the custom, in old NewYork, for brides to appear in this costlygarment during the first year or twoofmarriage: hismother, he knew, kepthers in tissue paper in the hope that Janeymight some daywear it, thoughpoorJaneywasreachingtheagewhenpearlgreypoplinandnobridesmaidswouldbethoughtmore"appropriate."

ItstruckArcherthatMay,sincetheirreturnfromEurope,hadseldomwornher bridal satin, and the surprise of seeing her in itmade him compare herappearance with that of the young girl he had watched with such blissfulanticipationstwoyearsearlier.

ThoughMay's outlinewas slightly heavier, as her goddesslike build hadforetold,herathleticerectnessofcarriage,andthegirlishtransparencyofherexpression, remained unchanged: but for the slight languor that Archer hadlatelynoticedinhershewouldhavebeentheexactimageofthegirlplayingwith the bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley on her betrothal evening. The factseemedanadditionalappealtohispity:suchinnocencewasasmovingasthetrustfulclaspofachild.Thenherememberedthepassionategenerositylatentunder that incurious calm.He recalledherglanceofunderstandingwhenhehadurgedthattheirengagementshouldbeannouncedattheBeaufortball;heheardthevoiceinwhichshehadsaid,intheMissiongarden:"Icouldn'thavemy happiness made out of a wrong—a wrong to some one else;" and anuncontrollablelongingseizedhimtotellherthetruth,tothrowhimselfonhergenerosity,andaskforthefreedomhehadoncerefused.

NewlandArcherwasaquietandself-controlledyoungman.Conformitytothedisciplineofasmallsocietyhadbecomealmosthissecondnature.Itwasdeeply distasteful to him to do anything melodramatic and conspicuous,anything Mr. van der Luyden would have deprecated and the club boxcondemnedasbadform.Buthehadbecomesuddenlyunconsciousoftheclubbox,ofMr.vanderLuyden,ofallthathadsolongenclosedhiminthewarmshelterofhabit.Hewalkedalongthesemi-circularpassageatthebackofthehouse,andopenedthedoorofMrs.vanderLuyden'sboxasifithadbeenagateintotheunknown.

"M'ama!"thrilledoutthetriumphantMarguerite;andtheoccupantsoftheboxlookedupinsurpriseatArcher'sentrance.Hehadalreadybrokenoneoftherulesofhisworld,whichforbadetheenteringofaboxduringasolo.

Slipping between Mr. van der Luyden and Sillerton Jackson, he leanedoverhiswife.

"I've got a beastly headache; don't tell any one, but come home, won'tyou?"hewhispered.

Maygavehimaglanceofcomprehension,andhesawherwhispertohismother,whonodded sympathetically; then shemurmured an excuse toMrs.van der Luyden, and rose from her seat just asMarguerite fell into Faust'sarms. Archer, while he helped her on with her Opera cloak, noticed theexchangeofasignificantsmilebetweentheolderladies.

As they drove awayMay laid her hand shyly on his. "I'm so sorry youdon'tfeelwell.I'mafraidthey'vebeenoverworkingyouagainattheoffice."

"No—it's not that: do you mind if I open the window?" he returnedconfusedly,lettingdownthepaneonhisside.Hesatstaringoutintothestreet,feelinghiswifebesidehimasasilentwatchfulinterrogation,andkeepinghiseyessteadilyfixedonthepassinghouses.Attheirdoorshecaughtherskirtinthestepofthecarriage,andfellagainsthim.

"Didyouhurtyourself?"heasked,steadyingherwithhisarm.

"No;butmypoordress—seehowI'vetornit!"sheexclaimed.Shebenttogatherupamud-stainedbreadth,andfollowedhimupthestepsintothehall.Theservantshadnotexpectedthemsoearly,andtherewasonlyaglimmerofgasontheupperlanding.

Archer mounted the stairs, turned up the light, and put a match to thebracketsoneachsideofthelibrarymantelpiece.Thecurtainsweredrawn,andthewarm friendly aspect of the roomsmotehim like that of a familiar facemetduringanunavowableerrand.

Henoticedthathiswifewasverypale,andaskedifheshouldgethersomebrandy.

"Oh,no,"sheexclaimedwithamomentaryflush,asshetookoffhercloak."Buthadn'tyoubettergotobedatonce?"sheadded,asheopenedasilverboxonthetableandtookoutacigarette.

Archerthrewdownthecigaretteandwalkedtohisusualplacebythefire.

"No;myheadisnotasbadasthat."Hepaused."Andthere'ssomethingIwanttosay;somethingimportant—thatImusttellyouatonce."

Shehaddroppedintoanarmchair,andraisedherheadashespoke."Yes,dear?" she rejoined, so gently that hewondered at the lack ofwonderwithwhichshereceivedthispreamble.

"May—"hebegan,standingafewfeetfromherchair,andlookingoverather as if the slight distance between themwere an unbridgeable abyss. Thesound of his voice echoed uncannily through the homelike hush, and he

repeated:"ThereissomethingI'vegottotellyou...aboutmyself..."

Shesatsilent,withoutamovementoratremorofherlashes.Shewasstillextremely pale, but her face had a curious tranquillity of expression thatseemeddrawnfromsomesecretinnersource.

Archer checked the conventional phrases of self-accusal that werecrowdingtohis lips.Hewasdeterminedtoput thecasebaldly,withoutvainrecriminationorexcuse.

"MadameOlenska—"hesaid;butatthenamehiswiferaisedherhandasiftosilencehim.Asshedidsothegaslightstruckonthegoldofherwedding-ring.

"Oh, why should we talk about Ellen tonight?" she asked, with a slightpoutofimpatience.

"BecauseIoughttohavespokenbefore."

Herfaceremainedcalm."Isitreallyworthwhile,dear?IknowI'vebeenunfairtoherattimes—perhapsweallhave.You'veunderstoodher,nodoubt,better thanwedid:you'vealwaysbeenkind toher.Butwhatdoes itmatter,nowit'sallover?"

Archer looked at her blankly. Could it be possible that the sense ofunreality inwhichhefelthimself imprisonedhadcommunicateditself tohiswife?

"Allover—whatdoyoumean?"heaskedinanindistinctstammer.

May still looked at himwith transparent eyes. "Why—since she's goingback to Europe so soon; since Granny approves and understands, and hasarrangedtomakeherindependentofherhusband—"

Shebrokeoff,andArcher,grasping thecornerof themantelpiece inoneconvulsedhand,andsteadyinghimselfagainstit,madeavainefforttoextendthesamecontroltohisreelingthoughts.

"Isupposed,"heheardhiswife'sevenvoicegoon,"thatyouhadbeenkeptat theofficethiseveningaboutthebusinessarrangements.Itwassettledthismorning, I believe." She lowered her eyes under his unseeing stare, andanotherfugitiveflushpassedoverherface.

He understood that his own eyesmust be unbearable, and turning away,rested his elbows on the mantel-shelf and covered his face. Somethingdrummed and clanged furiously in his ears; he could not tell if it were thebloodinhisveins,orthetickoftheclockonthemantel.

Maysatwithoutmovingorspeakingwhiletheclockslowlymeasuredoutfiveminutes.Alumpofcoalfellforwardinthegrate,andhearingherriseto

pushitback,Archeratlengthturnedandfacedher.

"It'simpossible,"heexclaimed.

"Impossible—?"

"Howdoyouknow—whatyou'vejusttoldme?"

"IsawEllenyesterday—ItoldyouI'dseenheratGranny's."

"Itwasn'tthenthatshetoldyou?"

"No;Ihadanotefromherthisafternoon.—Doyouwanttoseeit?"

Hecouldnotfindhisvoice,andshewentoutoftheroom,andcamebackalmostimmediately.

"Ithoughtyouknew,"shesaidsimply.

Shelaidasheetofpaperonthetable,andArcherputouthishandandtookitup.Thelettercontainedonlyafewlines.

"May dear, I have at last made Granny understand that my visit to hercouldbenomorethanavisit;andshehasbeenaskindandgenerousasever.Sheseesnowthat if I return toEuropeImust livebymyself,orratherwithpoorAuntMedora,whoiscomingwithme.IamhurryingbacktoWashingtontopackup,andwesailnextweek.YoumustbeverygoodtoGrannywhenI'mgone—asgoodasyou'vealwaysbeentome.Ellen.

"Ifanyofmyfriendswishtourgemetochangemymind,pleasetellthemitwouldbeutterlyuseless."

Archerread the letterover twoor three times; thenheflung itdownandburstoutlaughing.

The sound of his laugh startled him. It recalled Janey's midnight frightwhen she had caught him rocking with incomprehensiblemirth overMay'stelegramannouncingthatthedateoftheirmarriagehadbeenadvanced.

"Why did shewrite this?" he asked, checking his laughwith a supremeeffort.

Maymetthequestionwithherunshakencandour."Isupposebecausewetalkedthingsoveryesterday—"

"Whatthings?"

"ItoldherIwasafraidIhadn'tbeenfairtoher—hadn'talwaysunderstoodhowhard itmusthavebeen forherhere,aloneamongsomanypeoplewhowererelationsandyetstrangers;whofelt theright tocriticise,andyetdidn'talways know the circumstances." She paused. "I knew you'd been the onefriend she could always count on; and Iwantedher to know that you and I

werethesame—inallourfeelings."

Shehesitated,asifwaitingforhimtospeak,andthenaddedslowly:"Sheunderstoodmywishingtotellherthis.Ithinksheunderstandseverything."

ShewentuptoArcher,andtakingoneofhiscoldhandspresseditquicklyagainsthercheek.

"Myhead aches too; good-night, dear," she said, and turned to thedoor,hertornandmuddywedding-dressdraggingafterheracrosstheroom.

XXXIII.

Itwas,asMrs.ArchersmilinglysaidtoMrs.Welland,agreateventforayoungcoupletogivetheirfirstbigdinner.

TheNewlandArchers,sincetheyhadsetuptheirhousehold,hadreceivedagooddealofcompanyinaninformalway.Archerwasfondofhavingthreeorfourfriendstodine,andMaywelcomedthemwiththebeamingreadinessofwhichhermotherhadsethertheexampleinconjugalaffairs.Herhusbandquestionedwhether,iflefttoherself,shewouldeverhaveaskedanyonetothehouse; but he had long given up trying to disengage her real self from theshapeintowhichtraditionandtraininghadmouldedher.Itwasexpectedthatwell-off young couples in New York should do a good deal of informalentertaining,andaWellandmarried toanArcherwasdoublypledged to thetradition.

But a big dinner, with a hired chef and two borrowed footmen, withRomanpunch,rosesfromHenderson's,andmenusongilt-edgedcards,wasadifferentaffair,andnottobelightlyundertaken.AsMrs.Archerremarked,theRoman punch made all the difference; not in itself but by its manifoldimplications—since it signifiedeithercanvas-backsor terrapin, twosoups, ahot and a cold sweet, full decolletage with short sleeves, and guests of aproportionateimportance.

It was always an interesting occasionwhen a young pair launched theirfirst invitations in the third person, and their summonswas seldom refusedevenbytheseasonedandsought-after.Still, itwasadmittedlyatriumphthatthevanderLuydens,atMay'srequest,shouldhavestayedoverinordertobepresentatherfarewelldinnerfortheCountessOlenska.

Thetwomothers-in-lawsatinMay'sdrawing-roomontheafternoonofthegreatday,Mrs.ArcherwritingoutthemenusonTiffany'sthickestgilt-edgedbristol, while Mrs. Welland superintended the placing of the palms and

standardlamps.

Archer, arriving late fromhis office, found them still there.Mrs.Archerhadturnedherattentiontothename-cardsforthetable,andMrs.Wellandwasconsidering theeffectofbringingforward the largegilt sofa,so thatanother"corner"mightbecreatedbetweenthepianoandthewindow.

May, they told him, was in the dining-room inspecting the mound ofJacqueminot roses and maidenhair in the centre of the long table, and theplacing of the Maillard bonbons in openwork silver baskets between thecandelabra.On thepiano stood a largebasket of orchidswhichMr. vanderLuydenhadhadsentfromSkuytercliff.Everythingwas,inshort,asitshouldbeontheapproachofsoconsiderableanevent.

Mrs.Archerranthoughtfullyoverthelist,checkingoffeachnamewithhersharpgoldpen.

"Henry van der Luyden—Louisa—the Lovell Mingotts—the ReggieChiverses—LawrenceLeffertsandGertrude—(yes, IsupposeMaywasrighttohavethem)—theSelfridgeMerrys,SillertonJackson,VanNewlandandhiswife. (Howtimepasses! It seemsonlyyesterday thathewasyourbestman,Newland)—andCountessOlenska—yes,Ithinkthat'sall...."

Mrs. Welland surveyed her son-in-law affectionately. "No one can say,Newland,thatyouandMayarenotgivingEllenahandsomesend-off."

"Ah,well," saidMrs.Archer, "IunderstandMay'swantingher cousin totellpeopleabroadthatwe'renotquitebarbarians."

"I'msureEllenwillappreciateit.Shewastoarrivethismorning,Ibelieve.Itwillmake amost charming last impression.The eveningbefore sailing isusuallysodreary,"Mrs.Wellandcheerfullycontinued.

Archer turned toward thedoor,andhismother-in-lawcalled tohim:"Dogoinandhaveapeepatthetable.Anddon'tletMaytireherselftoomuch."Butheaffectednot tohear,andsprangupthestairs tohis library.Theroomlookedathimlikeanaliencountenancecomposedintoapolitegrimace;andheperceivedthatithadbeenruthlessly"tidied,"andprepared,byajudiciousdistributionofash-traysandcedar-woodboxes,forthegentlementosmokein.

"Ah,well,"hethought,"it'snotforlong—"andhewentontohisdressing-room.

TendayshadpassedsinceMadameOlenska'sdeparture fromNewYork.DuringthosetendaysArcherhadhadnosignfromherbutthatconveyedbythereturnofakeywrappedintissuepaper,andsenttohisofficeinasealedenvelopeaddressedinherhand.Thisretorttohislastappealmighthavebeeninterpretedasaclassicmoveinafamiliargame;buttheyoungmanchoseto

giveitadifferentmeaning.Shewasstillfightingagainstherfate;butshewasgoingtoEurope,andshewasnotreturningtoherhusband.Nothing,therefore,wastopreventhisfollowingher;andoncehehadtakentheirrevocablestep,andhadprovedtoherthatitwasirrevocable,hebelievedshewouldnotsendhimaway.

This confidence in the future had steadied him to play his part in thepresent.Ithadkepthimfromwritingtoher,orbetraying,byanysignoract,hismiseryandmortification.Itseemedtohimthatinthedeadlysilentgamebetweenthemthetrumpswerestillinhishands;andhewaited.

There had been, nevertheless, moments sufficiently difficult to pass; aswhenMr.Letterblair,thedayafterMadameOlenska'sdeparture,hadsentforhimtogooverthedetailsofthetrustwhichMrs.MansonMingottwishedtocreateforhergranddaughter.ForacoupleofhoursArcherhadexaminedthetermsofthedeedwithhissenior,allthewhileobscurelyfeelingthatifhehadbeen consulted it was for some reason other than the obvious one of hiscousinship;andthatthecloseoftheconferencewouldrevealit.

"Well, the lady can't deny that it's a handsome arrangement," Mr.Letterblairhadsummedup,aftermumblingoverasummaryofthesettlement."InfactI'mboundtosayshe'sbeentreatedprettyhandsomelyallround."

"Allround?"Archerechoedwithatouchofderision."Doyourefertoherhusband'sproposaltogiveherbackherownmoney?"

Mr.Letterblair'sbushyeyebrowswentupafractionofaninch."Mydearsir, the law's the law; and yourwife's cousinwasmarried under the Frenchlaw.It'stobepresumedsheknewwhatthatmeant."

"Evenifshedid,whathappenedsubsequently—."ButArcherpaused.Mr.Letterblair had laid his pen-handle against his big corrugated nose, andwaslooking down itwith the expression assumedby virtuous elderly gentlemenwhen theywish their youngers to understand that virtue is not synonymouswithignorance.

"Mydearsir,I'venowishtoextenuatetheCount'stransgressions;but—butontheotherside...Iwouldn'tputmyhandinthefire...well,thattherehadn'tbeen tit for tat ... with the young champion...." Mr. Letterblair unlocked adrawer andpusheda foldedpaper towardArcher. "This report, the result ofdiscreet enquiries ..." And then, as Archer made no effort to glance at thepaperortorepudiatethesuggestion,thelawyersomewhatflatlycontinued:"Idon'tsayit'sconclusive,youobserve;farfromit.Butstrawsshow...andonthewholeit'seminentlysatisfactoryforallpartiesthatthisdignifiedsolutionhasbeenreached."

"Oh,eminently,"Archerassented,pushingbackthepaper.

A day or two later, on responding to a summons from Mrs. MansonMingott,hissoulhadbeenmoredeeplytried.

Hehadfoundtheoldladydepressedandquerulous.

"Youknowshe'sdesertedme?"shebeganatonce;andwithoutwaitingforhisreply:"Oh,don'taskmewhy!ShegavesomanyreasonsthatI'veforgottenthemall.Myprivatebeliefisthatshecouldn'tfacetheboredom.Atanyratethat'swhatAugustaandmydaughters-in-law think.And Idon'tknow that Ialtogether blame her.Olenski's a finished scoundrel; but lifewith himmusthave been a gooddeal gayer than it is inFifthAvenue.Not that the familywouldadmit that: they thinkFifthAvenue isHeavenwith theruede laPaixthrown in. And poor Ellen, of course, has no idea of going back to herhusband.Sheheldoutasfirmlyaseveragainstthat.Soshe'stosettledowninPariswiththatfoolMedora....Well,ParisisParis;andyoucankeepacarriagethereonnexttonothing.Butshewasasgayasabird,andIshallmissher."Two tears, the parched tears of the old, rolled down her puffy cheeks andvanishedintheabyssesofherbosom.

"All I ask is," sheconcluded, "that they shouldn'tbothermeanymore. Imust really be allowed to digest my gruel...." And she twinkled a littlewistfullyatArcher.

Itwasthatevening,onhisreturnhome,thatMayannouncedherintentionof giving a farewell dinner to her cousin.MadameOlenska's name had notbeen pronounced between them since the night of her flight toWashington;andArcherlookedathiswifewithsurprise.

"Adinner—why?"heinterrogated.

Hercolourrose."ButyoulikeEllen—Ithoughtyou'dbepleased."

"It'sawfullynice—yourputtingitinthatway.ButIreallydon'tsee—"

"Imeantodoit,Newland,"shesaid,quietlyrisingandgoingtoherdesk."Here are the invitations allwritten.Motherhelpedme—she agrees thatweoughtto."Shepaused,embarrassedandyetsmiling,andArchersuddenlysawbeforehimtheembodiedimageoftheFamily.

"Oh,allright,"hesaid,staringwithunseeingeyesatthelistofgueststhatshehadputinhishand.

Whenheenteredthedrawing-roombeforedinnerMaywasstoopingoverthe fire and trying to coax the logs toburn in theirunaccustomed settingofimmaculatetiles.

The tall lamps were all lit, andMr. van der Luyden's orchids had beenconspicuously disposed in various receptacles of modern porcelain andknobbysilver.Mrs.NewlandArcher'sdrawing-roomwasgenerallythoughta

greatsuccess.Agiltbamboojardiniere, inwhichtheprimulasandcinerariaswere punctually renewed, blocked the access to the baywindow (where theold-fashionedwouldhavepreferredabronzereductionoftheVenusofMilo);the sofas and arm-chairs of pale brocadewere cleverly grouped about littleplush tables densely covered with silver toys, porcelain animals andefflorescent photograph frames; and tall rosy-shaded lamps shot up liketropicalflowersamongthepalms.

"Idon't thinkEllenhaseverseen this roomlightedup,"saidMay, risingflushedfromherstruggle,andsendingaboutheraglanceofpardonablepride.Thebrass tongswhich shehadproppedagainst the sideof the chimney fellwithacrashthatdrownedherhusband'sanswer;andbeforehecouldrestorethemMr.andMrs.vanderLuydenwereannounced.

The other guests quickly followed, for it was known that the van derLuydenslikedtodinepunctually.Theroomwasnearlyfull,andArcherwasengaged in showing to Mrs. Selfridge Merry a small highly-varnishedVerbeckhoven "Study of Sheep," which Mr. Welland had given May forChristmas,whenhefoundMadameOlenskaathisside.

Shewasexcessivelypale,andherpallormadeherdarkhairseemdenserand heavier than ever. Perhaps that, or the fact that she hadwound severalrowsofamberbeadsaboutherneck,remindedhimsuddenlyofthelittleEllenMingotthehaddancedwithatchildren'sparties,whenMedoraMansonhadfirstbroughthertoNewYork.

Theamberbeadsweretryingtohercomplexion,orherdresswasperhapsunbecoming: her face looked lustreless and almost ugly, and he had neverloveditashedidatthatminute.Theirhandsmet,andhethoughtheheardhersay: "Yes, we're sailing tomorrow in the Russia—"; then there was anunmeaning noise of opening doors, and after an interval May's voice:"Newland!Dinner'sbeenannounced.Won'tyoupleasetakeEllenin?"

MadameOlenska put her hand on his arm, and he noticed that the handwas ungloved, and remembered how he had kept his eyes fixed on it theeveningthathehadsatwithherinthelittleTwenty-thirdStreetdrawing-room.Allthebeautythathadforsakenherfaceseemedtohavetakenrefugeinthelongpale fingers and faintlydimpledknucklesonhis sleeve, andhe said tohimself:"IfitwereonlytoseeherhandagainIshouldhavetofollowher—."

Itwasonlyatanentertainmentostensiblyofferedtoa"foreignvisitor"thatMrs.vanderLuydencouldsufferthediminutionofbeingplacedonherhost'sleft.ThefactofMadameOlenska's"foreignness"couldhardlyhavebeenmoreadroitly emphasised than by this farewell tribute; andMrs. van der Luydenaccepted her displacement with an affability which left no doubt as to herapproval. Therewere certain things that had to be done, and if done at all,

donehandsomelyandthoroughly;andoneofthese,intheoldNewYorkcode,wasthetribalrallyaroundakinswomanabouttobeeliminatedfromthetribe.Therewasnothingon earth that theWellands andMingottswouldnot havedonetoproclaimtheirunalterableaffectionfortheCountessOlenskanowthatherpassageforEuropewasengaged;andArcher,attheheadofhistable,satmarvellingat the silentuntiringactivitywithwhichherpopularityhadbeenretrieved, grievances against her silenced, her past countenanced, and herpresentirradiatedbythefamilyapproval.Mrs.vanderLuydenshoneonherwith thedimbenevolencewhichwashernearest approach tocordiality, andMr.vanderLuyden,fromhisseatatMay'sright,castdownthetableglancesplainlyintendedtojustifyallthecarnationshehadsentfromSkuytercliff.

Archer, who seemed to be assisting at the scene in a state of oddimponderability, as if he floated somewhere between chandelier and ceiling,wondered at nothing so much as his own share in the proceedings. As hisglance travelled from one placid well-fed face to another he saw all theharmless-lookingpeopleengageduponMay'scanvas-backsasabandofdumbconspirators,andhimselfandthepalewomanonhisrightasthecentreoftheirconspiracy. And then it came over him, in a vast flash made up of manybrokengleams,thattoallofthemheandMadameOlenskawerelovers,loversintheextremesensepeculiarto"foreign"vocabularies.Heguessedhimselftohave been, for months, the centre of countless silently observing eyes andpatientlylisteningears;heunderstoodthat,bymeansasyetunknowntohim,theseparationbetweenhimselfandthepartnerofhisguilthadbeenachieved,andthatnowthewholetribehadralliedabouthiswifeonthetacitassumptionthat nobody knew anything, or had ever imagined anything, and that theoccasionoftheentertainmentwassimplyMayArcher'snaturaldesiretotakeanaffectionateleaveofherfriendandcousin.

ItwastheoldNewYorkwayoftakinglife"withouteffusionofblood":thewayofpeoplewhodreaded scandalmore thandisease,whoplaceddecencyabove courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than"scenes,"exceptthebehaviourofthosewhogaverisetothem.

As these thoughts succeeded each other in his mind Archer felt like aprisoner in the centre of an armed camp. He looked about the table, andguessedattheinexorablenessofhiscaptorsfromthetoneinwhich,overtheasparagusfromFlorida,theyweredealingwithBeaufortandhiswife."It'stoshowme,"hethought,"whatwouldhappentoME—"andadeathlysenseofthe superiority of implication and analogy over direct action, and of silenceoverrashwords,closedinonhimlikethedoorsofthefamilyvault.

Helaughed,andmetMrs.vanderLuyden'sstartledeyes.

"Youthink it laughable?"shesaidwithapinchedsmile."Ofcoursepoor

Regina's idea of remaining inNewYork has its ridiculous side, I suppose;"andArchermuttered:"Ofcourse."

Atthispoint,hebecameconsciousthatMadameOlenska'sotherneighbourhad been engaged for some time with the lady on his right. At the samemomenthesawthatMay,serenelyenthronedbetweenMr.vanderLuydenandMr.SelfridgeMerry,hadcast aquickglancedown the table. Itwas evidentthatthehostandtheladyonhisrightcouldnotsitthroughthewholemealinsilence.HeturnedtoMadameOlenska,andherpalesmilemethim."Oh,dolet'sseeitthrough,"itseemedtosay.

"Didyoufindthejourneytiring?"heaskedinavoicethatsurprisedhimbyits naturalness; and she answered that, on the contrary, she had seldomtravelledwithfewerdiscomforts.

"Except, you know, the dreadful heat in the train," she added; and heremarkedthatshewouldnotsufferfromthatparticularhardshipinthecountryshewasgoingto.

"Inever,"hedeclaredwithintensity,"wasmorenearlyfrozenthanonce,inApril,inthetrainbetweenCalaisandParis."

Shesaidshedidnotwonder,butremarkedthat,afterall,onecouldalwayscarryanextrarug,andthateveryformoftravelhaditshardships;towhichheabruptly returned that he thought themall of no account comparedwith theblessedness of getting away. She changed colour, and he added, his voicesuddenlyrisinginpitch:"Imeantodoalotoftravellingmyselfbeforelong."Atremorcrossedherface,andleaningovertoReggieChivers,hecriedout:"Isay,Reggie,what doyou say to a trip round theworld: now, nextmonth, Imean?I'mgameifyouare—"atwhichMrs.Reggiepipedupthatshecouldnot thinkof lettingReggiego till after theMarthaWashingtonBall shewasgetting up for the Blind Asylum in Easter week; and her husband placidlyobservedthatbythattimehewouldhavetobepractisingfortheInternationalPolomatch.

But Mr. Selfridge Merry had caught the phrase "round the world," andhavingoncecircledtheglobeinhissteam-yacht,heseizedtheopportunitytosenddownthetableseveralstrikingitemsconcerningtheshallownessof theMediterranean ports. Though, after all, he added, it didn't matter; for whenyou'dseenAthensandSmyrnaandConstantinople,whatelsewasthere?AndMrs.Merry said shecouldneverbe toograteful toDr.Bencomb forhavingmadethempromisenottogotoNaplesonaccountofthefever.

"But you must have three weeks to do India properly," her husbandconceded,anxioustohaveitunderstoodthathewasnofrivolousglobe-trotter.

Andatthispointtheladieswentuptothedrawing-room.

In the library, in spite of weightier presences, Lawrence Leffertspredominated.

Thetalk,asusual,hadveeredaroundto theBeauforts,andevenMr.vander Luyden and Mr. Selfridge Merry, installed in the honorary arm-chairstacitlyreservedforthem,pausedtolistentotheyoungerman'sphilippic.

Never had Lefferts so abounded in the sentiments that adorn Christianmanhoodandexalt thesanctityof thehome. Indignation lenthimascathingeloquence,anditwasclearthatifothershadfollowedhisexample,andactedashetalked,societywouldneverhavebeenweakenoughtoreceiveaforeignupstartlikeBeaufort—no,sir,notevenifhe'dmarriedavanderLuydenoraLanninginsteadofaDallas.Andwhatchancewouldtherehavebeen,Leffertswrathfullyquestioned,ofhismarryingintosuchafamilyastheDallases,ifhehad not already wormed his way into certain houses, as people like Mrs.LemuelStruthershadmanagedtowormtheirsinhiswake?Ifsocietychosetoopenitsdoorstovulgarwomentheharmwasnotgreat,thoughthegainwasdoubtful;butonce itgot in thewayof toleratingmenofobscureoriginandtaintedwealththeendwastotaldisintegration—andatnodistantdate.

"If things go on at this pace," Lefferts thundered, looking like a youngprophetdressedbyPoole,andwhohadnotyetbeenstoned,"weshallseeourchildrenfightingforinvitationstoswindlers'houses,andmarryingBeaufort'sbastards."

"Oh,Isay—drawitmild!"ReggieChiversandyoungNewlandprotested,whileMr. SelfridgeMerry looked genuinely alarmed, and an expression ofpainanddisgustsettledonMr.vanderLuyden'ssensitiveface.

"Has he got any?" criedMr. Sillerton Jackson, pricking up his ears; andwhile Lefferts tried to turn the question with a laugh, the old gentlemantwittered intoArcher'sear:"Queer, thosefellowswhoarealwayswanting tosetthingsright.Thepeoplewhohavetheworstcooksarealwaystellingyouthey'repoisonedwhentheydineout.ButIheartherearepressingreasonsforourfriendLawrence'sdiatribe:—typewriterthistime,Iunderstand...."

ThetalksweptpastArcherlikesomesenselessriverrunningandrunningbecause it did not know enough to stop. He saw, on the faces about him,expressionsofinterest,amusementandevenmirth.Helistenedtotheyoungermen's laughter, and to the praise of theArcherMadeira,whichMr. van derLuyden andMr.Merrywere thoughtfully celebrating.Through it all hewasdimly aware of a general attitude of friendliness toward himself, as if theguardoftheprisonerhefelthimselftobeweretryingtosoftenhiscaptivity;andtheperceptionincreasedhispassionatedeterminationtobefree.

Inthedrawing-room,wheretheypresentlyjoinedtheladies,hemetMay's

triumphant eyes, and read in them the conviction that everything had "goneoff"beautifully.SherosefromMadameOlenska'sside,andimmediatelyMrs.van der Luyden beckoned the latter to a seat on the gilt sofa where shethroned. Mrs. Selfridge Merry bore across the room to join them, and itbecame clear to Archer that here also a conspiracy of rehabilitation andobliterationwasgoingon.Thesilentorganisationwhichheldhis littleworldtogetherwasdeterminedtoputitselfonrecordasneverforamomenthavingquestionedtheproprietyofMadameOlenska'sconduct,orthecompletenessofArcher's domestic felicity. All these amiable and inexorable persons wereresolutelyengaged inpretending to eachother that theyhadneverheardof,suspected,orevenconceivedpossible,theleasthinttothecontrary;andfromthistissueofelaboratemutualdissimulationArcheroncemoredisengagedthefactthatNewYorkbelievedhimtobeMadameOlenska'slover.Hecaughttheglitterofvictoryinhiswife'seyes,andforthefirst timeunderstoodthatsheshared the belief. The discovery roused a laughter of inner devils thatreverberatedthroughallhiseffortstodiscusstheMarthaWashingtonballwithMrs.ReggieChivers and littleMrs.Newland; and so the evening swepton,runningandrunninglikeasenselessriverthatdidnotknowhowtostop.

At length he saw thatMadameOlenska had risen andwas saying good-bye. He understood that in a moment she would be gone, and tried torememberwhathehadsaid toheratdinner;buthecouldnot recallasinglewordtheyhadexchanged.

ShewentuptoMay,therestofthecompanymakingacircleaboutherassheadvanced.Thetwoyoungwomenclaspedhands;thenMaybentforwardandkissedhercousin.

"Certainly our hostess ismuch the handsomer of the two,"Archer heardReggie Chivers say in an undertone to young Mrs. Newland; and herememberedBeaufort'scoarsesneeratMay'sineffectualbeauty.

Amomentlaterhewasinthehall,puttingMadameOlenska'scloakabouthershoulders.

Throughall his confusionofmindhehadheld fast to the resolve to saynothingthatmightstartleordisturbher.Convincedthatnopowercouldnowturn him from his purpose he had found strength to let events shapethemselvesastheywould.ButashefollowedMadameOlenskaintothehallhethoughtwithasuddenhungerofbeingforamomentalonewithheratthedoorofhercarriage.

"Is your carriage here?" he asked; and at that moment Mrs. van derLuyden,whowasbeingmajesticallyinsertedintohersables,saidgently:"WearedrivingdearEllenhome."

Archer'sheartgavea jerk, andMadameOlenska, claspinghercloakandfanwithonehand,heldouttheothertohim."Good-bye,"shesaid.

"Good-bye—but I shall see you soon in Paris," he answered aloud—itseemedtohimthathehadshoutedit.

"Oh,"shemurmured,"ifyouandMaycouldcome—!"

Mr. vanderLuyden advanced to give her his arm, andArcher turned toMrs. vanderLuyden.For amoment, in the billowydarkness inside the biglandau,hecaughtthedimovalofaface,eyesshiningsteadily—andshewasgone.

AshewentupthestepshecrossedLawrenceLeffertscomingdownwithhiswife.Leffertscaughthishostbythesleeve,drawingbacktoletGertrudepass.

"Isay,oldchap:doyoumindjustlettingitbeunderstoodthatI'mdiningwithyouattheclubtomorrownight?Thankssomuch,youoldbrick!Good-night."

"ItDIDgooffbeautifully,didn'tit?"Mayquestionedfromthethresholdofthelibrary.

Archerrousedhimselfwithastart.Assoonasthelastcarriagehaddrivenaway,hehadcomeuptothelibraryandshuthimselfin,withthehopethathiswife,who still lingeredbelow,wouldgo straight toher room.But there shestood, pale and drawn, yet radiating the factitious energy of one who haspassedbeyondfatigue.

"MayIcomeandtalkitover?"sheasked.

"Ofcourse,ifyoulike.Butyoumustbeawfullysleepy—"

"No,I'mnotsleepy.Ishouldliketositwithyoualittle."

"Verywell,"hesaid,pushingherchairnearthefire.

Shesatdownandheresumedhisseat;butneitherspokeforalongtime.AtlengthArcherbeganabruptly:"Sinceyou'renottired,andwanttotalk,there'ssomethingImusttellyou.Itriedtotheothernight—."

Shelookedathimquickly."Yes,dear.Somethingaboutyourself?"

"Aboutmyself.Yousayyou'renottired:well,Iam.Horriblytired..."

In an instant she was all tender anxiety. "Oh, I've seen it coming on,Newland!You'vebeensowickedlyoverworked—"

"Perhapsit'sthat.Anyhow,Iwanttomakeabreak—"

"Abreak?Togiveupthelaw?"

"Togoaway,atanyrate—atonce.Ona long trip,eversofaroff—awayfromeverything—"

Hepaused, conscious that he had failed in his attempt to speakwith theindifferenceofamanwholongsforachange,andisyettoowearytowelcomeit.Dowhathewould,thechordofeagernessvibrated."Awayfromeverything—"herepeated.

"Eversofar?Where,forinstance?"sheasked.

"Oh,Idon'tknow.India—orJapan."

Shestoodup,andashesatwithbenthead,hischinproppedonhishands,hefeltherwarmlyandfragrantlyhoveringoverhim.

"Asfarasthat?ButI'mafraidyoucan't,dear..."shesaidinanunsteadyvoice."Notunlessyou'll takemewithyou."And then,ashewassilent, shewent on, in tones so clear and evenly-pitched that each separate syllabletappedlikealittlehammeronhisbrain:"Thatis,ifthedoctorswillletmego...but I'mafraid theywon't.Foryousee,Newland, I'vebeensuresince thismorningofsomethingI'vebeensolongingandhopingfor—"

He looked up at her with a sick stare, and she sank down, all dew androses,andhidherfaceagainsthisknee.

"Oh,mydear,"hesaid,holdinghertohimwhilehiscoldhandstrokedherhair.

Therewasalongpause,whichtheinnerdevilsfilledwithstridentlaughter;thenMayfreedherselffromhisarmsandstoodup.

"Youdidn'tguess—?"

"Yes—I;no.Thatis,ofcourseIhoped—"

Theylookedateachotherforaninstantandagainfellsilent;then,turninghiseyesfromhers,heaskedabruptly:"Haveyoutoldanyoneelse?"

"OnlyMamma and yourmother." She paused, and then added hurriedly,thebloodflushingup toher forehead:"That is—andEllen.YouknowI toldyouwe'dhadalongtalkoneafternoon—andhowdearshewastome."

"Ah—"saidArcher,hisheartstopping.

Hefeltthathiswifewaswatchinghimintently."DidyouMINDmytellingherfirst,Newland?"

"Mind?WhyshouldI?"Hemadealastefforttocollecthimself."Butthatwasafortnightago,wasn'tit?Ithoughtyousaidyouweren'tsuretilltoday."

Hercolourburneddeeper,butsheheldhisgaze."No;Iwasn'tsurethen—

butI toldherIwas.AndyouseeIwasright!"sheexclaimed,herblueeyeswetwithvictory.

XXXIV.

NewlandArchersatatthewriting-tableinhislibraryinEastThirty-ninthStreet.

Hehadjustgotbackfromabigofficialreceptionfor the inaugurationofthenewgalleriesattheMetropolitanMuseum,andthespectacleofthosegreatspaces crowded with the spoils of the ages, where the throng of fashioncirculatedthroughaseriesofscientificallycataloguedtreasures,hadsuddenlypressedonarustedspringofmemory.

"Why,thisusedtobeoneof theoldCesnolarooms,"heheardsomeonesay;andinstantlyeverythingabouthimvanished,andhewassittingaloneonahardleatherdivanagainstaradiator,whileaslightfigureinalongsealskincloakmovedawaydownthemeagrely-fittedvistaoftheoldMuseum.

Thevisionhadrousedahostofotherassociations,andhesatlookingwithneweyesatthelibrarywhich,foroverthirtyyears,hadbeenthesceneofhissolitarymusingsandofallthefamilyconfabulations.

Itwastheroominwhichmostoftherealthingsofhislifehadhappened.There his wife, nearly twenty-six years ago, had broken to him, with ablushingcircumlocutionthatwouldhavecausedtheyoungwomenofthenewgeneration to smile, the news that she was to have a child; and there theireldestboy,Dallas, toodelicate tobe taken tochurch inmidwinter,hadbeenchristenedbytheiroldfriendtheBishopofNewYork,theamplemagnificentirreplaceable Bishop, so long the pride and ornament of his diocese. ThereDallashadfirststaggeredacrossthefloorshouting"Dad,"whileMayandthenurse laughed behind the door; there their second child,Mary (whowas solike her mother), had announced her engagement to the dullest and mostreliable of Reggie Chivers's many sons; and there Archer had kissed herthroughherweddingveilbefore theywentdown to themotorwhichwas tocarry themtoGraceChurch—for inaworldwhereallelsehadreeledon itsfoundationsthe"GraceChurchwedding"remainedanunchangedinstitution.

ItwasinthelibrarythatheandMayhadalwaysdiscussedthefutureofthechildren: the studies of Dallas and his young brother Bill,Mary's incurableindifference to "accomplishments," and passion for sport and philanthropy,andthevagueleaningstoward"art"whichhadfinallylandedtherestlessandcuriousDallasintheofficeofarisingNewYorkarchitect.

Theyoungmennowadayswereemancipatingthemselvesfromthelawandbusiness and takingupall sortsofnew things. If theywerenot absorbed instatepoliticsormunicipalreform,thechanceswerethattheyweregoinginforCentral American archaeology, for architecture or landscape-engineering;taking a keen and learned interest in the prerevolutionary buildings of theirown country, studying and adapting Georgian types, and protesting at themeaningless use of the word "Colonial." Nobody nowadays had "Colonial"housesexceptthemillionairegrocersofthesuburbs.

But aboveall—sometimesArcherput it aboveall—itwas in that librarythat theGovernor ofNewYork, coming down fromAlbany one evening todine and spend the night, had turned to his host, and said, banging hisclenchedfistonthetableandgnashinghiseye-glasses:"Hangtheprofessionalpolitician!You're the kind ofman the countrywants,Archer. If the stable'severtobecleanedout,menlikeyouhavegottolendahandinthecleaning."

"Menlikeyou—"howArcherhadglowedatthephrase!Howeagerlyhehadrisenupatthecall!ItwasanechoofNedWinsett'soldappealtorollhissleeves up and get down into themuck; but spoken by amanwho set theexampleofthegesture,andwhosesummonstofollowhimwasirresistible.

Archer,ashelookedback,wasnotsurethatmenlikehimselfWEREwhathiscountryneeded,atleastintheactiveservicetowhichTheodoreRoosevelthadpointed;infact,therewasreasontothinkitdidnot,forafterayearintheStateAssemblyhehadnotbeenre-elected,andhaddroppedbackthankfullyintoobscure if usefulmunicipalwork, and from that again to thewritingofoccasionalarticlesinoneofthereformingweekliesthatweretryingtoshakethecountryoutofitsapathy.Itwaslittleenoughtolookbackon;butwhenherememberedtowhattheyoungmenofhisgenerationandhissethadlookedforward—the narrow groove of money-making, sport and society to whichtheirvisionhadbeenlimited—evenhissmallcontributiontothenewstateofthingsseemedtocount,aseachbrickcountsinawell-builtwall.Hehaddonelittle in public life; he would always be by nature a contemplative and adilettante;buthehadhadhighthingstocontemplate,greatthingstodelightin;andonegreatman'sfriendshiptobehisstrengthandpride.

Hehadbeen,inshort,whatpeoplewerebeginningtocall"agoodcitizen."In New York, for many years past, every new movement, philanthropic,municipalorartistic,hadtakenaccountofhisopinionandwantedhisname.People said: "Ask Archer" when there was a question of starting the firstschool for crippled children, reorganising theMuseum ofArt, founding theGrolier Club, inaugurating the new Library, or getting up a new society ofchambermusic.Hisdayswerefull,andtheywerefilleddecently.Hesupposeditwasallamanoughttoask.

Somethingheknewhehadmissed:thefloweroflife.Buthethoughtofitnow as a thing so unattainable and improbable that to have repined wouldhave been like despairing because one had not drawn the first prize in alottery.TherewereahundredmillionticketsinHISlottery,andtherewasonlyoneprize;thechanceshadbeentoodecidedlyagainsthim.Whenhethoughtof Ellen Olenska it was abstractly, serenely, as one might think of someimaginary beloved in a book or a picture: she had become the compositevisionofallthathehadmissed.Thatvision,faintandtenuousasitwas,hadkept him from thinking of other women. He had been what was called afaithful husband; and when May had suddenly died—carried off by theinfectiouspneumoniathroughwhichshehadnursedtheiryoungestchild—hehadhonestlymournedher.Theirlongyearstogetherhadshownhimthatitdidnotsomuchmatterifmarriagewasadullduty,aslongasitkeptthedignityofaduty: lapsingfromthat, itbecameamerebattleofuglyappetites.Lookingabouthim,hehonouredhisownpast,andmournedforit.Afterall,therewasgoodintheoldways.

His eyes, making the round of the room—done over by Dallas withEnglishmezzotints,Chippendalecabinets,bitsofchosenblue-and-whiteandpleasantlyshadedelectriclamps—camebacktotheoldEastlakewriting-tablethathehadneverbeenwillingtobanish,andtohisfirstphotographofMay,whichstillkeptitsplacebesidehisinkstand.

There shewas, tall, round-bosomed andwillowy, in her starchedmuslinandflappingLeghorn,ashehadseenherundertheorange-treesintheMissiongarden.Andashehadseenherthatday,soshehadremained;neverquiteatthesameheight,yetneverfarbelowit:generous,faithful,unwearied;butsolackinginimagination,soincapableofgrowth,thattheworldofheryouthhadfallen into pieces and rebuilt itself without her ever being conscious of thechange.Thishardbrightblindnesshadkeptherimmediatehorizonapparentlyunaltered.HerincapacitytorecognisechangemadeherchildrenconcealtheirviewsfromherasArcherconcealedhis;therehadbeen,fromthefirst,ajointpretenceofsameness,akindofinnocentfamilyhypocrisy,inwhichfatherandchildrenhadunconsciouslycollaborated.Andshehaddiedthinkingtheworlda good place, full of loving and harmonious households like her own, andresigned to leave it because she was convinced that, whatever happened,Newland would continue to inculcate in Dallas the same principles andprejudiceswhichhadshapedhisparents' lives,andthatDallasinturn(whenNewland followedher)would transmit the sacred trust to littleBill.AndofMaryshewassureasofherownself.So,havingsnatchedlittleBillfromthegrave,andgivenherlifeintheeffort,shewentcontentedlytoherplaceintheArcher vault in St. Mark's, where Mrs. Archer already lay safe from theterrifying"trend"whichherdaughter-in-lawhadneverevenbecomeawareof.

OppositeMay's portrait stoodoneof her daughter.MaryChiverswas astall and fair as her mother, but large-waisted, flat-chested and slightlyslouching, as the altered fashion required. Mary Chivers's mighty feats ofathleticism could not have been performed with the twenty-inch waist thatMay Archer's azure sash so easily spanned. And the difference seemedsymbolic; themother's lifehadbeenascloselygirtasherfigure.Mary,whowasnolessconventional,andnomoreintelligent,yetledalargerlifeandheldmoretolerantviews.Therewasgoodinthenewordertoo.

The telephone clicked, and Archer, turning from the photographs,unhookedthetransmitterathiselbow.Howfartheywerefromthedayswhenthelegsofthebrass-buttonedmessengerboyhadbeenNewYork'sonlymeansofquickcommunication!

"Chicagowantsyou."

Ah—itmustbealong-distancefromDallas,whohadbeensenttoChicagobyhisfirmtotalkovertheplanoftheLakesidepalacetheyweretobuildforayoungmillionairewithideas.ThefirmalwayssentDallasonsucherrands.

"Hallo, Dad—Yes: Dallas. I say—how do you feel about sailing onWednesday?Mauretania:Yes,nextWednesdayaseveris.OurclientwantsmetolookatsomeItaliangardensbeforewesettleanything,andhasaskedmetonipoveronthenextboat.I'vegottobebackonthefirstofJune—"thevoicebroke into a joyful conscious laugh—"sowemust look alive. I say, Dad, Iwantyourhelp:docome."

Dallas seemed tobe speaking in the room: thevoicewasasnearbyandnaturalasifhehadbeenlounginginhisfavouritearm-chairbythefire.ThefactwouldnotordinarilyhavesurprisedArcher,forlong-distancetelephoninghad become as much a matter of course as electric lighting and five-dayAtlanticvoyages.Butthelaughdidstartlehim;itstillseemedwonderfulthatacross all thosemiles andmiles of country—forest, river,mountain, prairie,roaringcitiesandbusyindifferentmillions—Dallas's laughshouldbeabletosay:"Ofcourse,whateverhappens,Imustgetbackonthefirst,becauseFannyBeaufortandIaretobemarriedonthefifth."

Thevoicebeganagain:"Thinkitover?No,sir:notaminute.You'vegottosayyesnow.Whynot, I'd like toknow?Ifyoucanallegeasinglereason—No;Iknewit.Thenit'sago,eh?BecauseIcountonyoutoringuptheCunardoffice first thing tomorrow; and you'd better book a return on a boat fromMarseilles.Isay,Dad;it'llbeourlasttimetogether,inthiskindofway—.Oh,good!Iknewyouwould."

Chicago rang off, and Archer rose and began to pace up and down theroom.

Itwouldbetheirlasttimetogetherinthiskindofway:theboywasright.Theywouldhavelotsofother"times"afterDallas'smarriage,hisfatherwassure; for the two were born comrades, and Fanny Beaufort, whatever onemightthinkofher,didnotseemlikelytointerferewiththeirintimacy.Onthecontrary, fromwhat he had seen of her, he thought she would be naturallyincludedinit.Still,changewaschange,anddifferencesweredifferences,andmuch as he felt himself drawn toward his future daughter-in-law, it wastemptingtoseizethislastchanceofbeingalonewithhisboy.

Therewasnoreasonwhyheshouldnotseizeit,excepttheprofoundonethathehadlostthehabitoftravel.Mayhaddislikedtomoveexceptforvalidreasons,suchastakingthechildrentotheseaorinthemountains:shecouldimaginenoothermotivefor leaving thehouse inThirty-ninthStreetor theircomfortablequartersat theWellands' inNewport.AfterDallashadtakenhisdegree she had thought it her duty to travel for sixmonths; and the wholefamily had made the old-fashioned tour through England, Switzerland andItaly.Their timebeing limited (nooneknewwhy) theyhadomittedFrance.ArcherrememberedDallas'swrathatbeingaskedtocontemplateMontBlancinstead of Rheims and Chartres. But Mary and Bill wanted mountain-climbing, and had already yawned their way in Dallas's wake through theEnglish cathedrals; and May, always fair to her children, had insisted onholdingthebalanceevenlybetweentheirathleticandartisticproclivities.ShehadindeedproposedthatherhusbandshouldgotoParisforafortnight,andjoin themon the Italian lakesafter theyhad"done"Switzerland;butArcherhaddeclined."We'llsticktogether,"hesaid;andMay'sfacehadbrightenedathissettingsuchagoodexampletoDallas.

Sinceherdeath,nearlytwoyearsbefore,therehadbeennoreasonforhiscontinuing in the same routine.His children had urged him to travel:MaryChivers had felt sure it would do him good to go abroad and "see thegalleries." The very mysteriousness of such a cure made her the moreconfidentofitsefficacy.ButArcherhadfoundhimselfheldfastbyhabit,bymemories,byasuddenstartledshrinkingfromnewthings.

Now,ashereviewedhispast,hesawintowhatadeepruthehadsunk.Theworst of doing one's duty was that it apparently unfitted one for doinganythingelse.At least thatwas theview that themenofhisgenerationhadtaken.Thetrenchantdivisionsbetweenrightandwrong,honestanddishonest,respectableand thereverse,had leftso littlescopefor theunforeseen.Therearemomentswhenaman'simagination,soeasilysubduedtowhatitlivesin,suddenlyrisesaboveitsdailylevel,andsurveysthelongwindingsofdestiny.Archerhungthereandwondered....

Whatwasleftofthelittleworldhehadgrownupin,andwhosestandardshad bent and bound him? He remembered a sneering prophecy of poor

LawrenceLefferts's,utteredyearsago in thatvery room:"If thingsgoonatthisrate,ourchildrenwillbemarryingBeaufort'sbastards."

Itwas justwhatArcher'seldestson, theprideofhis life,wasdoing;andnobodywonderedorreproved.Eventheboy'sAuntJaney,whostilllookedsoexactlyas sheused to inherelderlyyouth,had takenhermother'semeraldsandseed-pearlsoutoftheirpinkcotton-wool,andcarriedthemwithherowntwitching hands to the future bride; and FannyBeaufort, instead of lookingdisappointedatnot receivinga"set" fromaParis jeweller,hadexclaimedattheirold-fashionedbeauty,anddeclaredthatwhensheworethemsheshouldfeellikeanIsabeyminiature.

Fanny Beaufort, who had appeared in New York at eighteen, after thedeathofherparents,hadwonitsheartmuchasMadameOlenskahadwonitthirtyyearsearlier;onlyinsteadofbeingdistrustfulandafraidofher,societytookherjoyfullyforgranted.Shewaspretty,amusingandaccomplished:whatmore did any one want? Nobody was narrow-minded enough to rake upagainst her the half-forgotten facts of her father's past and her own origin.OnlytheolderpeoplerememberedsoobscureanincidentinthebusinesslifeofNewYorkasBeaufort'sfailure,orthefactthatafterhiswife'sdeathhehadbeen quietlymarried to the notorious FannyRing, and had left the countrywith his new wife, and a little girl who inherited her beauty. He wassubsequently heard of in Constantinople, then in Russia; and a dozen yearslater American travellers were handsomely entertained by him in BuenosAyres,wherehe represented a large insurance agency.He andhiswife diedthere in the odour of prosperity; and one day their orphaned daughter hadappeared in New York in charge of May Archer's sister-in-law, Mrs. JackWelland, whose husband had been appointed the girl's guardian. The factthrewher into almost cousinly relationshipwithNewlandArcher's children,andnobodywassurprisedwhenDallas'sengagementwasannounced.

Nothingcouldmoredearlygivethemeasureofthedistancethattheworldhad travelled. People nowadays were too busy—busy with reforms and"movements," with fads and fetishes and frivolities—to bother much abouttheir neighbours. And of what account was anybody's past, in the hugekaleidoscopewhereallthesocialatomsspunaroundonthesameplane?

NewlandArcher, lookingoutofhishotelwindowat thestatelygaietyofthe Paris streets, felt his heart beating with the confusion and eagerness ofyouth.

It was long since it had thus plunged and reared under his wideningwaistcoat,leavinghim,thenextminute,withanemptybreastandhottemples.Hewondered if itwas thus thathis son'sconducted itself in thepresenceofMissFannyBeaufort—anddecidedthatitwasnot."Itfunctionsasactively,no

doubt,buttherhythmisdifferent,"hereflected,recallingthecoolcomposurewith which the young man had announced his engagement, and taken forgrantedthathisfamilywouldapprove.

"Thedifference is that theseyoungpeople take it forgranted that they'regoingtogetwhatevertheywant,andthatwealmostalwaystookitforgrantedthatwe shouldn't.Only, Iwonder—the thingone's so certainof in advance:canitevermakeone'sheartbeataswildly?"

It was the day after their arrival in Paris, and the spring sunshine heldArcher in his open window, above the wide silvery prospect of the PlaceVendome.Oneofthethingshehadstipulated—almosttheonlyone—whenhehad agreed to come abroad with Dallas, was that, in Paris, he shouldn't bemadetogotooneofthenewfangled"palaces."

"Oh,allright—ofcourse,"Dallasgood-naturedlyagreed."I'lltakeyoutosome jolly old-fashioned place—the Bristol say—" leaving his fatherspeechlessathearing that thecentury-longhomeofkingsandemperorswasnow spoken of as an old-fashioned inn, where one went for its quaintinconveniencesandlingeringlocalcolour.

Archerhadpicturedoftenenough,inthefirstimpatientyears,thesceneofhisreturntoParis;thenthepersonalvisionhadfaded,andhehadsimplytriedtoseethecityasthesettingofMadameOlenska'slife.Sittingaloneatnightinhis library, after the household had gone to bed, he had evoked the radiantoutbreak of spring down the avenues of horse-chestnuts, the flowers andstatues in the public gardens, the whiff of lilacs from the flower-carts, themajesticrolloftheriverunderthegreatbridges,andthelifeofartandstudyandpleasurethatfilledeachmightyarterytobursting.Nowthespectaclewasbeforehiminitsglory,andashelookedoutonithefeltshy,old-fashioned,inadequate: a mere grey speck of a man compared with the ruthlessmagnificentfellowhehaddreamedofbeing....

Dallas's hand camedowncheerilyonhis shoulder. "Hullo, father: this issomething like, isn't it?"They stood for awhile looking out in silence, andthentheyoungmancontinued:"Bytheway,I'vegotamessageforyou: theCountessOlenskaexpectsusbothathalf-pastfive."

Hesaiditlightly,carelessly,ashemighthaveimpartedanycasualitemofinformation,suchasthehouratwhichtheirtrainwastoleaveforFlorencethenextevening.Archerlookedathim,andthoughthesawinhisgayyoungeyesagleamofhisgreat-grandmotherMingott'smalice.

"Oh,didn'tItellyou?"Dallaspursued."FannymademesweartodothreethingswhileIwasinParis:getherthescoreofthelastDebussysongs,gotothe Grand-Guignol and see Madame Olenska. You know she was awfully

good to FannywhenMr. Beaufort sent her over fromBuenosAyres to theAssomption.Fannyhadn'tanyfriendsinParis,andMadameOlenskausedtobekindtoherandtrotheraboutonholidays.IbelieveshewasagreatfriendofthefirstMrs.Beaufort's.Andshe'sourcousin,ofcourse.SoIrangherupthismorning,beforeIwentout,andtoldheryouandIwereherefortwodaysandwantedtoseeher."

Archercontinuedtostareathim."YoutoldherIwashere?"

"Of course—why not?" Dallas's eye brows went up whimsically. Then,gettingnoanswer,heslippedhisarmthroughhisfather'swithaconfidentialpressure.

"Isay,father:whatwasshelike?"

Archerfelthiscolourriseunderhisson'sunabashedgaze."Come,ownup:youandsheweregreatpals,weren'tyou?Wasn'tshemostawfullylovely?"

"Lovely?Idon'tknow.Shewasdifferent."

"Ah—thereyouhaveit!That'swhatitalwayscomesto,doesn'tit?Whenshecomes,SHE'SDIFFERENT—andonedoesn'tknowwhy.It'sexactlywhatIfeelaboutFanny."

His father drew back a step, releasing his arm. "About Fanny? But,mydearfellow—Ishouldhopeso!OnlyIdon'tsee—"

"Dashit,Dad,don'tbeprehistoric!Wasn'tshe—once—yourFanny?"

Dallasbelongedbodyandsoultothenewgeneration.Hewasthefirst-bornofNewlandandMayArcher,yetithadneverbeenpossibletoinculcateinhimeven the rudimentsof reserve. "What's theuseofmakingmysteries? Itonlymakes people want to nose 'em out," he always objected when enjoined todiscretion.ButArcher,meetinghiseyes,sawthefiliallightundertheirbanter.

"MyFanny?"

"Well, the woman you'd have chucked everything for: only you didn't,"continuedhissurprisingson.

"Ididn't,"echoedArcherwithakindofsolemnity.

"No:youdate,yousee,dearoldboy.Butmothersaid—"

"Yourmother?"

"Yes: the day before she died. It waswhen she sent forme alone—youremember?Shesaidsheknewweweresafewithyou,andalwayswouldbe,because once, when she asked you to, you'd given up the thing you mostwanted."

Archerreceivedthisstrangecommunicationinsilence.Hiseyesremainedunseeinglyfixedonthethrongedsunlitsquarebelowthewindow.Atlengthhesaidinalowvoice:"Sheneveraskedme."

"No. I forgot.Youneverdidaskeachother anything,didyou?Andyounever told each other anything. You just sat and watched each other, andguessedatwhatwasgoingonunderneath.Adeaf-and-dumbasylum,infact!Well, I back your generation for knowing more about each other's privatethoughts than we ever have time to find out about our own.—I say, Dad,"Dallasbrokeoff,"you'renotangrywithme?Ifyouare,let'smakeitupandgoandlunchatHenri's.I'vegottorushouttoVersaillesafterward."

ArcherdidnotaccompanyhissontoVersailles.HepreferredtospendtheafternooninsolitaryroamingsthroughParis.Hehadtodealallatoncewiththepackedregretsandstifledmemoriesofaninarticulatelifetime.

AfteralittlewhilehedidnotregretDallas'sindiscretion.Itseemedtotakeanironbandfromhishearttoknowthat,afterall,someonehadguessedandpitied.... And that it should have been his wife moved him indescribably.Dallas,forallhisaffectionateinsight,wouldnothaveunderstoodthat.Totheboy,nodoubt,theepisodewasonlyapatheticinstanceofvainfrustration,ofwasted forces. Butwas it really nomore? For a long timeArcher sat on abench in theChampsElysees andwondered,while the streamof life rolledby....

A few streets away, a few hours away, Ellen Olenska waited. She hadnevergonebacktoherhusband,andwhenhehaddied,someyearsbefore,shehadmadenochangeinherwayofliving.TherewasnothingnowtokeepherandArcherapart—andthatafternoonhewastoseeher.

Hegotupandwalkedacross thePlacede laConcordeand theTuileriesgardenstotheLouvre.Shehadoncetoldhimthatsheoftenwentthere,andhehadafancytospendtheinterveningtimeinaplacewherehecouldthinkofher as perhaps having lately been. For an hour or more he wandered fromgallery to gallery through the dazzle of afternoon light, and one by one thepicturesburstonhimintheirhalf-forgottensplendour,fillinghissoulwiththelongechoesofbeauty.Afterall,hislifehadbeentoostarved....

Suddenly, before an effulgent Titian, he found himself saying: "But I'monlyfifty-seven—"andthenheturnedaway.Forsuchsummerdreamsitwastoolate;butsurelynotforaquietharvestoffriendship,ofcomradeship,intheblessedhushofhernearness.

Hewentbacktothehotel,whereheandDallasweretomeet;andtogethertheywalked again across thePlacede laConcorde andover thebridge thatleadstotheChamberofDeputies.

Dallas,unconsciousofwhatwasgoingoninhisfather'smind,wastalkingexcitedlyandabundantlyofVersailles.Hehadhadbutonepreviousglimpseofit,duringaholidaytripinwhichhehadtriedtopackallthesightshehadbeendeprivedofwhenhehadhadtogowiththefamilytoSwitzerland;andtumultuous enthusiasm and cock-sure criticism tripped each other up on hislips.

As Archer listened, his sense of inadequacy and inexpressivenessincreased.Theboywasnot insensitive,heknew;buthehad the facilityandself-confidence thatcameof lookingat fatenotasamasterbutasanequal."That's it: theyfeelequal to things—theyknowtheirwayabout,"hemused,thinkingofhissonasthespokesmanofthenewgenerationwhichhadsweptaway all the old landmarks, and with them the sign-posts and the danger-signal.

SuddenlyDallasstoppedshort,graspinghisfather'sarm."Oh,byJove,"heexclaimed.

Theyhadcomeout into thegreat tree-plantedspacebefore theInvalides.ThedomeofMansartfloatedethereallyabovethebuddingtreesandthelonggreyfrontofthebuilding:drawingupintoitselfalltheraysofafternoonlight,ithungtherelikethevisiblesymboloftherace'sglory.

Archer knew that Madame Olenska lived in a square near one of theavenuesradiatingfromtheInvalides;andhehadpicturedthequarterasquietand almost obscure, forgetting the central splendour that lit it up. Now, bysome queer process of association, that golden light became for him thepervadingilluminationinwhichshelived.Fornearlythirtyyears,herlife—ofwhichheknewsostrangelylittle—hadbeenspentinthisrichatmospherethathe already felt to be too dense and yet too stimulating for his lungs. Hethought of the theatres she must have been to, the pictures she must havelooked at, the sober and splendid old houses shemust have frequented, thepeople she must have talked with, the incessant stir of ideas, curiosities,imagesandassociationsthrownoutbyanintenselysocialraceinasettingofimmemorial manners; and suddenly he remembered the young Frenchmanwhohadoncesaidtohim:"Ah,goodconversation—thereisnothinglikeit,isthere?"

Archerhadnot seenM.Riviere,orheardofhim, fornearly thirtyyears;and that fact gave the measure of his ignorance of Madame Olenska'sexistence.Morethanhalfalifetimedividedthem,andshehadspentthelongintervalamongpeoplehedidnotknow,inasocietyhebutfaintlyguessedat,inconditionshewouldneverwhollyunderstand.Duringthattimehehadbeenlivingwithhisyouthfulmemoryofher;butshehaddoubtlesshadotherandmoretangiblecompanionship.Perhapsshetoohadkepthermemoryofhimas

somethingapart;butifshehad,itmusthavebeenlikearelicinasmalldimchapel,wheretherewasnottimetoprayeveryday....

TheyhadcrossedthePlacedesInvalides,andwerewalkingdownoneofthethoroughfaresflankingthebuilding.Itwasaquietquarter,afterall,inspiteof its splendour and its history; and the fact gave one an idea of the richesParishad todrawon, since such scenes as thiswere left to the fewand theindifferent.

Thedaywasfadingintoasoftsun-shothaze,prickedhereandtherebyayellowelectriclight,andpasserswererareinthelittlesquareintowhichtheyhadturned.Dallasstoppedagain,andlookedup.

"It must be here," he said, slipping his arm through his father's with amovement from which Archer's shyness did not shrink; and they stoodtogetherlookingupatthehouse.

It was a modern building, without distinctive character, but many-windowed,andpleasantlybalconiedupitswidecream-colouredfront.Ononeoftheupperbalconies,whichhungwellabovetheroundedtopsofthehorse-chestnutsinthesquare,theawningswerestilllowered,asthoughthesunhadjustleftit.

"I wonder which floor—?" Dallas conjectured; and moving toward theporte-cochereheputhishead into theporter's lodge, andcameback to say:"Thefifth.Itmustbetheonewiththeawnings."

Archerremainedmotionless,gazingattheupperwindowsasiftheendoftheirpilgrimagehadbeenattained.

"Isay,youknow,it'snearlysix,"hissonatlengthremindedhim.

Thefatherglancedawayatanemptybenchunderthetrees.

"IbelieveI'llsitthereamoment,"hesaid.

"Why—aren'tyouwell?"hissonexclaimed.

"Oh,perfectly.ButIshouldlikeyou,please,togoupwithoutme."

Dallas paused before him, visibly bewildered. "But, I say, Dad: do youmeanyouwon'tcomeupatall?"

"Idon'tknow,"saidArcherslowly.

"Ifyoudon'tshewon'tunderstand."

"Go,myboy;perhapsIshallfollowyou."

Dallasgavehimalonglookthroughthetwilight.

"ButwhatonearthshallIsay?"

"Mydearfellow,don'tyoualwaysknowwhattosay?"hisfatherrejoinedwithasmile.

"Verywell.Ishallsayyou'reold-fashioned,andpreferwalkingupthefiveflightsbecauseyoudon'tlikelifts."

Hisfathersmiledagain."SayI'mold-fashioned:that'senough."

Dallaslookedathimagain,andthen,withanincredulousgesture,passedoutofsightunderthevaulteddoorway.

Archer sat down on the bench and continued to gaze at the awningedbalcony.Hecalculatedthetimeitwouldtakehissontobecarriedupinthelifttothefifthfloor,toringthebell,andbeadmittedtothehall,andthenusheredinto thedrawing-room.HepicturedDallasentering that roomwithhisquickassured stepandhisdelightful smile, andwondered if thepeoplewere rightwhosaidthathisboy"tookafterhim."

Thenhetriedtoseethepersonsalreadyintheroom—forprobablyatthatsociable hour therewouldbemore thanone—and among themadark lady,paleanddark,whowouldlookupquickly,halfrise,andholdoutalongthinhandwiththreeringsonit....Hethoughtshewouldbesittinginasofa-cornernearthefire,withazaleasbankedbehindheronatable.

"It'smore real tomehere than if Iwent up," he suddenly heard himselfsay;andthefearlestthatlastshadowofrealityshouldloseitsedgekepthimrootedtohisseatastheminutessucceededeachother.

Hesatforalongtimeonthebenchinthethickeningdusk,hiseyesneverturningfromthebalcony.Atlengthalightshonethroughthewindows,andamoment later aman-servant cameouton thebalcony,drewup theawnings,andclosedtheshutters.

Atthat,asifithadbeenthesignalhewaitedfor,NewlandArchergotupslowlyandwalkedbackalonetohishotel.