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- Стр. 103/109
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Mr
.
Royall
seldom
spoke
,
but
his
silent
presence
gave
her
,
for
the
first
time
,
a
sense
of
peace
and
security
.
She
knew
that
where
he
was
there
would
be
warmth
,
rest
,
silence
;
and
for
the
moment
they
were
all
she
wanted
.
She
shut
her
eyes
,
and
even
these
things
grew
dim
to
her
.
.
.
.
In
the
train
,
during
the
short
run
from
Creston
to
Nettleton
,
the
warmth
aroused
her
,
and
the
consciousness
of
being
under
strange
eyes
gave
her
a
momentary
energy
.
She
sat
upright
,
facing
Mr
.
Royall
,
and
stared
out
of
the
window
at
the
denuded
country
.
Forty
-
eight
hours
earlier
,
when
she
had
last
traversed
it
,
many
of
the
trees
still
held
their
leaves
;
but
the
high
wind
of
the
last
two
nights
had
stripped
them
,
and
the
lines
of
the
landscape
’
were
as
finely
pencilled
as
in
December
.
A
few
days
of
autumn
cold
had
wiped
out
all
trace
of
the
rich
fields
and
languid
groves
through
which
she
had
passed
on
the
Fourth
of
July
;
and
with
the
fading
of
the
landscape
those
fervid
hours
had
faded
,
too
.
She
could
no
longer
believe
that
she
was
the
being
who
had
lived
them
;
she
was
someone
to
whom
something
irreparable
and
overwhelming
had
happened
,
but
the
traces
of
the
steps
leading
up
to
it
had
almost
vanished
.
When
the
train
reached
Nettleton
and
she
walked
out
into
the
square
at
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
side
the
sense
of
unreality
grew
more
overpowering
.
The
physical
strain
of
the
night
and
day
had
left
no
room
in
her
mind
for
new
sensations
and
she
followed
Mr
.
Royall
as
passively
as
a
tired
child
.
As
in
a
confused
dream
she
presently
found
herself
sitting
with
him
in
a
pleasant
room
,
at
a
table
with
a
red
and
white
table
-
cloth
on
which
hot
food
and
tea
were
placed
.
He
filled
her
cup
and
plate
and
whenever
she
lifted
her
eyes
from
them
she
found
his
resting
on
her
with
the
same
steady
tranquil
gaze
that
had
reassured
and
strengthened
her
when
they
had
faced
each
other
in
old
Mrs
.
Hobart
’
s
kitchen
.
As
everything
else
in
her
consciousness
grew
more
and
more
confused
and
immaterial
,
became
more
and
more
like
the
universal
shimmer
that
dissolves
the
world
to
failing
eyes
,
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
presence
began
to
detach
itself
with
rocky
firmness
from
this
elusive
background
.
She
had
always
thought
of
him
—
when
she
thought
of
him
at
all
—
as
of
someone
hateful
and
obstructive
,
but
whom
she
could
outwit
and
dominate
when
she
chose
to
make
the
effort
.
Only
once
,
on
the
day
of
the
Old
Home
Week
celebration
,
while
the
stray
fragments
of
his
address
drifted
across
her
troubled
mind
,
had
she
caught
a
glimpse
of
another
being
,
a
being
so
different
from
the
dull
-
witted
enemy
with
whom
she
had
supposed
herself
to
be
living
that
even
through
the
burning
mist
of
her
own
dreams
he
had
stood
out
with
startling
distinctness
.
For
a
moment
,
then
,
what
he
said
—
and
something
in
his
way
of
saying
it
—
had
made
her
see
why
he
had
always
struck
her
as
such
a
lonely
man
.
But
the
mist
of
her
dreams
had
hidden
him
again
,
and
she
had
forgotten
that
fugitive
impression
.
It
came
back
to
her
now
,
as
they
sat
at
the
table
,
and
gave
her
,
through
her
own
immeasurable
desolation
,
a
sudden
sense
of
their
nearness
to
each
other
.
But
all
these
feelings
were
only
brief
streaks
of
light
in
the
grey
blur
of
her
physical
weakness
.
Through
it
she
was
aware
that
Mr
.
Royall
presently
left
her
sitting
by
the
table
in
the
warm
room
,
and
came
back
after
an
interval
with
a
carriage
from
the
station
—
a
closed
“
hack
”
with
sun
-
burnt
blue
silk
blinds
—
in
which
they
drove
together
to
a
house
covered
with
creepers
and
standing
next
to
a
church
with
a
carpet
of
turf
before
it
.
They
got
out
at
this
house
,
and
the
carriage
waited
while
they
walked
up
the
path
and
entered
a
wainscoted
hall
and
then
a
room
full
of
books
.
In
this
room
a
clergyman
whom
Charity
had
never
seen
received
them
pleasantly
,
and
asked
them
to
be
seated
for
a
few
minutes
while
witnesses
were
being
summoned
.
Charity
sat
down
obediently
,
and
Mr
.
Royall
,
his
hands
behind
his
back
,
paced
slowly
up
and
down
the
room
.
As
he
turned
and
faced
Charity
,
she
noticed
that
his
lips
were
twitching
a
little
;
but
the
look
in
his
eyes
was
grave
and
calm
.
Once
he
paused
before
her
and
said
timidly
:
“
Your
hair
’
s
got
kinder
loose
with
the
wind
,
”
and
she
lifted
her
hands
and
tried
to
smooth
back
the
locks
that
had
escaped
from
her
braid
.
There
was
a
looking
-
glass
in
a
carved
frame
on
the
wall
,
but
she
was
ashamed
to
look
at
herself
in
it
,
and
she
sat
with
her
hands
folded
on
her
knee
till
the
clergyman
returned
.
Then
they
went
out
again
,
along
a
sort
of
arcaded
passage
,
and
into
a
low
vaulted
room
with
a
cross
on
an
altar
,
and
rows
of
benches
.
The
clergyman
,
who
had
left
them
at
the
door
,
presently
reappeared
before
the
altar
in
a
surplice
,
and
a
lady
who
was
probably
his
wife
,
and
a
man
in
a
blue
shirt
who
had
been
raking
dead
leaves
on
the
lawn
,
came
in
and
sat
on
one
of
the
benches
.
The
clergyman
opened
a
book
and
signed
to
Charity
and
Mr
.
Royall
to
approach
.
Mr
.
Royall
advanced
a
few
steps
,
and
Charity
followed
him
as
she
had
followed
him
to
the
buggy
when
they
went
out
of
Mrs
.
Hobart
’
s
kitchen
;
she
had
the
feeling
that
if
she
ceased
to
keep
close
to
him
,
and
do
what
he
told
her
to
do
,
the
world
would
slip
away
from
beneath
her
feet
.
The
clergyman
began
to
read
,
and
on
her
dazed
mind
there
rose
the
memory
of
Mr
.
