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"
Sincerely
,
then
--
what
should
you
gain
that
would
compensate
for
the
possibility
--
the
certainty
--
of
a
lot
of
beastly
talk
?
"
"
But
my
freedom
--
is
that
nothing
?
"
It
flashed
across
him
at
that
instant
that
the
charge
in
the
letter
was
true
,
and
that
she
hoped
to
marry
the
partner
of
her
guilt
.
How
was
he
to
tell
her
that
,
if
she
really
cherished
such
a
plan
,
the
laws
of
the
State
were
inexorably
opposed
to
it
?
The
mere
suspicion
that
the
thought
was
in
her
mind
made
him
feel
harshly
and
impatiently
toward
her
.
"
But
are
n't
you
as
free
as
air
as
it
is
?
"
he
returned
.
"
Who
can
touch
you
?
Mr.
Letterblair
tells
me
the
financial
question
has
been
settled
--
"
"
Oh
,
yes
,
"
she
said
indifferently
.
"
Well
,
then
:
is
it
worth
while
to
risk
what
may
be
infinitely
disagreeable
and
painful
?
Think
of
the
newspapers
--
their
vileness
!
It
's
all
stupid
and
narrow
and
unjust
--
but
one
ca
n't
make
over
society
.
"
"
No
,
"
she
acquiesced
;
and
her
tone
was
so
faint
and
desolate
that
he
felt
a
sudden
remorse
for
his
own
hard
thoughts
.
"
The
individual
,
in
such
cases
,
is
nearly
always
sacrificed
to
what
is
supposed
to
be
the
collective
interest
:
people
cling
to
any
convention
that
keeps
the
family
together
--
protects
the
children
,
if
there
are
any
,
"
he
rambled
on
,
pouring
out
all
the
stock
phrases
that
rose
to
his
lips
in
his
intense
desire
to
cover
over
the
ugly
reality
which
her
silence
seemed
to
have
laid
bare
.
Since
she
would
not
or
could
not
say
the
one
word
that
would
have
cleared
the
air
,
his
wish
was
not
to
let
her
feel
that
he
was
trying
to
probe
into
her
secret
Better
keep
on
the
surface
,
in
the
prudent
old
New
York
way
,
than
risk
uncovering
a
wound
he
could
not
heal
.
"
It
's
my
business
,
you
know
,
"
he
went
on
,
"
to
help
you
to
see
these
things
as
the
people
who
are
fondest
of
you
see
them
.
The
Mingotts
,
the
Wellands
,
the
van
der
Luydens
,
all
your
friends
and
relations
:
if
I
did
n't
show
you
honestly
how
they
judge
such
questions
,
it
would
n't
be
fair
of
me
,
would
it
?
"
He
spoke
insistently
,
almost
pleading
with
her
in
his
eagerness
to
cover
up
that
yawning
silence.She
said
slowly
:
"
No
;
it
would
n't
be
fair
.
"
The
fire
had
crumbled
down
to
greyness
,
and
one
of
the
lamps
made
a
gurgling
appeal
for
attention
.
Madame
Olenska
rose
,
wound
it
up
and
returned
to
the
fire
,
but
without
resuming
her
seat.Her
remaining
on
her
feet
seemed
to
signify
that
there
was
nothing
more
for
either
of
them
to
say
,
and
Archer
stood
up
also
.
"
Very
well
;
I
will
do
what
you
wish
,
"
she
said
abruptly
.
The
blood
rushed
to
his
forehead
;
and
,
taken
aback
by
the
suddenness
of
her
surrender
,
he
caught
her
two
hands
awkwardly
in
his
.
"
I
--
I
do
want
to
help
you
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
do
help
me
.
Good
night
,
my
cousin
.
"
He
bent
and
laid
his
lips
on
her
hands
,
which
were
cold
and
lifeless
.
She
drew
them
away
,
and
he
turned
to
the
door
,
found
his
coat
and
hat
under
the
faint
gas-light
of
the
hall
,
and
plunged
out
into
the
winter
night
bursting
with
the
belated
eloquence
of
the
inarticulate
.
It
was
a
crowded
night
at
Wallack
's
theatre.The
play
was
"
The
Shaughraun
,
"
with
Dion
Boucicault
in
the
title
role
and
Harry
Montague
and
Ada
Dyas
as
the
lovers
.
The
popularity
of
the
admirable
English
company
was
at
its
height
,
and
the
Shaughraun
always
packed
the
house
.
In
the
galleries
the
enthusiasm
was
unreserved
;
in
the
stalls
and
boxes
,
people
smiled
a
little
at
the
hackneyed
sentiments
and
clap-trap
situations
,
and
enjoyed
the
play
as
much
as
the
galleries
did.There
was
one
episode
,
in
particular
,
that
held
the
house
from
floor
to
ceiling
.
It
was
that
in
which
Harry
Montague
,
after
a
sad
,
almost
monosyllabic
scene
of
parting
with
Miss
Dyas
,
bade
her
good-bye
,
and
turned
to
go
.
The
actress
,
who
was
standing
near
the
mantelpiece
and
looking
down
into
the
fire
,
wore
a
gray
cashmere
dress
without
fashionable
loopings
or
trimmings
,
moulded
to
her
tall
figure
and
flowing
in
long
lines
about
her
feet
.
Around
her
neck
was
a
narrow
black
velvet
ribbon
with
the
ends
falling
down
her
back.When
her
wooer
turned
from
her
she
rested
her
arms
against
the
mantel-shelf
and
bowed
her
face
in
her
hands
.
On
the
threshold
he
paused
to
look
at
her
;
then
he
stole
back
,
lifted
one
of
the
ends
of
velvet
ribbon
,
kissed
it
,
and
left
the
room
without
her
hearing
him
or
changing
her
attitude
.
And
on
this
silent
parting
the
curtain
fell.It
was
always
for
the
sake
of
that
particular
scene
that
Newland
Archer
went
to
see
"
The
Shaughraun
.
"
He
thought
the
adieux
of
Montague
and
Ada
Dyas
as
fine
as
anything
he
had
ever
seen
Croisette
and
Bressant
do
in
Paris
,
or
Madge
Robertson
and
Kendal
in
London
;
in
its
reticence
,
its
dumb
sorrow
,
it
moved
him
more
than
the
most
famous
histrionic
outpourings.On
the
evening
in
question
the
little
scene
acquired
an
added
poignancy
by
reminding
him
--
he
could
not
have
said
why
--
of
his
leave-taking
from
Madame
Olenska
after
their
confidential
talk
a
week
or
ten
days
earlier.It
would
have
been
as
difficult
to
discover
any
resemblance
between
the
two
situations
as
between
the
appearance
of
the
persons
concerned
.
Newland
Archer
could
not
pretend
to
anything
approaching
the
young
English
actor
's
romantic
good
looks
,
and
Miss
Dyas
was
a
tall
red-haired
woman
of
monumental
build
whose
pale
and
pleasantly
ugly
face
was
utterly
unlike
Ellen
Olenska
's
vivid
countenance
.
Nor
were
Archer
and
Madame
Olenska
two
lovers
parting
in
heart-broken
silence
;
they
were
client
and
lawyer
separating
after
a
talk
which
had
given
the
lawyer
the
worst
possible
impression
of
the
client
's
case
.
Wherein
,
then
,
lay
the
resemblance
that
made
the
young
man
's
heart
beat
with
a
kind
of
retrospective
excitement
?
It
seemed
to
be
in
Madame
Olenska
's
mysterious
faculty
of
suggesting
tragic
and
moving
possibilities
outside
the
daily
run
of
experience
.
She
had
hardly
ever
said
a
word
to
him
to
produce
this
impression
,
but
it
was
a
part
of
her
,
either
a
projection
of
her
mysterious
and
outlandish
background
or
of
something
inherently
dramatic
,
passionate
and
unusual
in
herself
.
Archer
had
always
been
inclined
to
think
that
chance
and
circumstance
played
a
small
part
in
shaping
people
's
lots
compared
with
their
innate
tendency
to
have
things
happen
to
them
.
This
tendency
he
had
felt
from
the
first
in
Madame
Olenska
.
The
quiet
,
almost
passive
young
woman
struck
him
as
exactly
the
kind
of
person
to
whom
things
were
bound
to
happen
,
no
matter
how
much
she
shrank
from
them
and
went
out
of
her
way
to
avoid
them
.
The
exciting
fact
was
her
having
lived
in
an
atmosphere
so
thick
with
drama
that
her
own
tendency
to
provoke
it
had
apparently
passed
unperceived
.
It
was
precisely
the
odd
absence
of
surprise
in
her
that
gave
him
the
sense
of
her
having
been
plucked
out
of
a
very
maelstrom
:
the
things
she
took
for
granted
gave
the
measure
of
those
she
had
rebelled
against.Archer
had
left
her
with
the
conviction
that
Count
Olenski
's
accusation
was
not
unfounded
.
The
mysterious
person
who
figured
in
his
wife
's
past
as
"
the
secretary
"
had
probably
not
been
unrewarded
for
his
share
in
her
escape
.
The
conditions
from
which
she
had
fled
were
intolerable
,
past
speaking
of
,
past
believing
:
she
was
young
,
she
was
frightened
,
she
was
desperate
--
what
more
natural
than
that
she
should
be
grateful
to
her
rescuer
?
The
pity
was
that
her
gratitude
put
her
,
in
the
law
's
eyes
and
the
world
's
,
on
a
par
with
her
abominable
husband
.
Archer
had
made
her
understand
this
,
as
he
was
bound
to
do
;
he
had
also
made
her
understand
that
simplehearted
kindly
New
York
,
on
whose
larger
charity
she
had
apparently
counted
,
was
precisely
the
place
where
she
could
least
hope
for
indulgence
.
To
have
to
make
this
fact
plain
to
her
--
and
to
witness
her
resigned
acceptance
of
it
--
had
been
intolerably
painful
to
him
.
He
felt
himself
drawn
to
her
by
obscure
feelings
of
jealousy
and
pity
,
as
if
her
dumbly-confessed
error
had
put
her
at
his
mercy
,
humbling
yet
endearing
her
.
He
was
glad
it
was
to
him
she
had
revealed
her
secret
,
rather
than
to
the
cold
scrutiny
of
Mr.
Letterblair
,
or
the
embarrassed
gaze
of
her
family
.
He
immediately
took
it
upon
himself
to
assure
them
both
that
she
had
given
up
her
idea
of
seeking
a
divorce
,
basing
her
decision
on
the
fact
that
she
had
understood
the
uselessness
of
the
proceeding
;
and
with
infinite
relief
they
had
all
turned
their
eyes
from
the
"
unpleasantness
"
she
had
spared
them
.
"
I
was
sure
Newland
would
manage
it
,
"
Mrs.
Welland
had
said
proudly
of
her
future
son-in-law
;
and
old
Mrs.
Mingott
,
who
had
summoned
him
for
a
confidential
interview
,
had
congratulated
him
on
his
cleverness
,
and
added
impatiently
:
"
Silly
goose
!
I
told
her
myself
what
nonsense
it
was
.
Wanting
to
pass
herself
off
as
Ellen
Mingott
and
an
old
maid
,
when
she
has
the
luck
to
be
a
married
woman
and
a
Countess
!
"
These
incidents
had
made
the
memory
of
his
last
talk
with
Madame
Olenska
so
vivid
to
the
young
man
that
as
the
curtain
fell
on
the
parting
of
the
two
actors
his
eyes
filled
with
tears
,
and
he
stood
up
to
leave
the
theatre.In
doing
so
,
he
turned
to
the
side
of
the
house
behind
him
,
and
saw
the
lady
of
whom
he
was
thinking
seated
in
a
box
with
the
Beauforts
,
Lawrence
Lefferts
and
one
or
two
other
men
.
He
had
not
spoken
with
her
alone
since
their
evening
together
,
and
had
tried
to
avoid
being
with
her
in
company
;
but
now
their
eyes
met
,
and
as
Mrs.
Beaufort
recognised
him
at
the
same
time
,
and
made
her
languid
little
gesture
of
invitation
,
it
was
impossible
not
to
go
into
the
box.Beaufort
and
Lefferts
made
way
for
him
,
and
after
a
few
words
with
Mrs.
Beaufort
,
who
always
preferred
to
look
beautiful
and
not
have
to
talk
,
Archer
seated
himself
behind
Madame
Olenska
.
There
was
no
one
else
in
the
box
but
Mr.
Sillerton
Jackson
,
who
was
telling
Mrs.
Beaufort
in
a
confidential
undertone
about
Mrs.
Lemuel
Struthers
's
last
Sunday
reception
(
where
some
people
reported
that
there
had
been
dancing
)
.
Under
cover
of
this
circumstantial
narrative
,
to
which
Mrs.
Beaufort
listened
with
her
perfect
smile
,
and
her
head
at
just
the
right
angle
to
be
seen
in
profile
from
the
stalls
,
Madame
Olenska
turned
and
spoke
in
a
low
voice
.
"
Do
you
think
,
"
she
asked
,
glancing
toward
the
stage
,
"
he
will
send
her
a
bunch
of
yellow
roses
tomorrow
morning
?
"
Archer
reddened
,
and
his
heart
gave
a
leap
of
surprise
.
He
had
called
only
twice
on
Madame
Olenska
,
and
each
time
he
had
sent
her
a
box
of
yellow
roses
,
and
each
time
without
a
card
.
She
had
never
before
made
any
allusion
to
the
flowers
,
and
he
supposed
she
had
never
thought
of
him
as
the
sender
.
Now
her
sudden
recognition
of
the
gift
,
and
her
associating
it
with
the
tender
leave-taking
on
the
stage
,
filled
him
with
an
agitated
pleasure
.
"
I
was
thinking
of
that
too
--
I
was
going
to
leave
the
theatre
in
order
to
take
the
picture
away
with
me
,
"
he
said
.
To
his
surprise
her
colour
rose
,
reluctantly
and
duskily
.
She
looked
down
at
the
mother-of-pearl
opera-glass
in
her
smoothly
gloved
hands
,
and
said
,
after
a
pause
:
"
What
do
you
do
while
May
is
away
?
"
"
I
stick
to
my
work
,
"
he
answered
,
faintly
annoyed
by
the
question.In
obedience
to
a
long-established
habit
,
the
Wellands
had
left
the
previous
week
for
St.
Augustine
,
where
,
out
of
regard
for
the
supposed
susceptibility
of
Mr.
Welland
's
bronchial
tubes
,
they
always
spent
the
latter
part
of
the
winter
.
Mr.
Welland
was
a
mild
and
silent
man
,
with
no
opinions
but
with
many
habits
.
With
these
habits
none
might
interfere
;
and
one
of
them
demanded
that
his
wife
and
daughter
should
always
go
with
him
on
his
annual
journey
to
the
south
.
To
preserve
an
unbroken
domesticity
was
essential
to
his
peace
of
mind
;
he
would
not
have
known
where
his
hair-brushes
were
,
or
how
to
provide
stamps
for
his
letters
,
if
Mrs.
Welland
had
not
been
there
to
tell
him.As
all
the
members
of
the
family
adored
each
other
,
and
as
Mr.
Welland
was
the
central
object
of
their
idolatry
,
it
never
occurred
to
his
wife
and
May
to
let
him
go
to
St.
Augustine
alone
;
and
his
sons
,
who
were
both
in
the
law
,
and
could
not
leave
New
York
during
the
winter
,
always
joined
him
for
Easter
and
travelled
back
with
him.It
was
impossible
for
Archer
to
discuss
the
necessity
of
May
's
accompanying
her
father
.
The
reputation
of
the
Mingotts
'
family
physician
was
largely
based
on
the
attack
of
pneumonia
which
Mr.
Welland
had
never
had
;
and
his
insistence
on
St.
Augustine
was
therefore
inflexible
.
Originally
,
it
had
been
intended
that
May
's
engagement
should
not
be
announced
till
her
return
from
Florida
,
and
the
fact
that
it
had
been
made
known
sooner
could
not
be
expected
to
alter
Mr.
Welland
's
plans
.
Archer
would
have
liked
to
join
the
travellers
and
have
a
few
weeks
of
sunshine
and
boating
with
his
betrothed
;
but
he
too
was
bound
by
custom
and
conventions
.
Little
arduous
as
his
professional
duties
were
,
he
would
have
been
convicted
of
frivolity
by
the
whole
Mingott
clan
if
he
had
suggested
asking
for
a
holiday
in
mid-winter
;
and
he
accepted
May
's
departure
with
the
resignation
which
he
perceived
would
have
to
be
one
of
the
principal
constituents
of
married
life.He
was
conscious
that
Madame
Olenska
was
looking
at
him
under
lowered
lids
.
"
I
have
done
what
you
wished
--
what
you
advised
,
"
she
said
abruptly
.
"
Ah
--
I
'm
glad
,
"
he
returned
,
embarrassed
by
her
broaching
the
subject
at
such
a
moment
.
"
I
understand
--
that
you
were
right
,
"
she
went
on
a
little
breathlessly
;
"
but
sometimes
life
is
difficult
...
perplexing
...
"
"
I
know
.
"
"
And
I
wanted
to
tell
you
that
I
DO
feel
you
were
right
;
and
that
I
'm
grateful
to
you
,
"
she
ended
,
lifting
her
opera-glass
quickly
to
her
eyes
as
the
door
of
the
box
opened
and
Beaufort
's
resonant
voice
broke
in
on
them.Archer
stood
up
,
and
left
the
box
and
the
theatre.Only
the
day
before
he
had
received
a
letter
from
May
Welland
in
which
,
with
characteristic
candour
,
she
had
asked
him
to
"
be
kind
to
Ellen
"
in
their
absence
.
"
She
likes
you
and
admires
you
so
much
--
and
you
know
,
though
she
does
n't
show
it
,
she
's
still
very
lonely
and
unhappy
I
do
n't
think
Granny
understands
her
,
or
uncle
Lovell
Mingott
either
;
they
really
think
she
's
much
worldlier
and
fonder
of
society
than
she
is
.
And
I
can
quite
see
that
New
York
must
seem
dull
to
her
,
though
the
family
wo
n't
admit
it
.
I
think
she
's
been
used
to
lots
of
things
we
have
n't
got
;
wonderful
music
,
and
picture
shows
,
and
celebrities
--
artists
and
authors
and
all
the
clever
people
you
admire
.
Granny
ca
n't
understand
her
wanting
anything
but
lots
of
dinners
and
clothes
--
but
I
can
see
that
you
're
almost
the
only
person
in
New
York
who
can
talk
to
her
about
what
she
really
cares
for
.
"
His
wise
May
--
how
he
had
loved
her
for
that
letter
!
But
he
had
not
meant
to
act
on
it
;
he
was
too
busy
,
to
begin
with
,
and
he
did
not
care
,
as
an
engaged
man
,
to
play
too
conspicuously
the
part
of
Madame
Olenska
's
champion
.
He
had
an
idea
that
she
knew
how
to
take
care
of
herself
a
good
deal
better
than
the
ingenuous
May
imagined
.
She
had
Beaufort
at
her
feet
,
Mr.
van
der
Luyden
hovering
above
her
like
a
protecting
deity
,
and
any
number
of
candidates
(
Lawrence
Lefferts
among
them
)
waiting
their
opportunity
in
the
middle
distance
.
Yet
he
never
saw
her
,
or
exchanged
a
word
with
her
,
without
feeling
that
,
after
all
,
May
's
ingenuousness
almost
amounted
to
a
gift
of
divination
.
Ellen
Olenska
was
lonely
and
she
was
unhappy
.
