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From
the
high
ground
on
which
it
stood
a
series
of
terraces
bordered
by
balustrades
and
urns
descended
in
the
steel-engraving
style
to
a
small
irregular
lake
with
an
asphalt
edge
overhung
by
rare
weeping
conifers
.
To
the
right
and
left
,
the
famous
weedless
lawns
studded
with
"
specimen
"
trees
(
each
of
a
different
variety
)
rolled
away
to
long
ranges
of
grass
crested
with
elaborate
cast-iron
ornaments
;
and
below
,
in
a
hollow
,
lay
the
four-roomed
stone
house
which
the
first
Patroon
had
built
on
the
land
granted
him
in
1612
.
Against
the
uniform
sheet
of
snow
and
the
greyish
winter
sky
the
Italian
villa
loomed
up
rather
grimly
;
even
in
summer
it
kept
its
distance
,
and
the
boldest
coleus
bed
had
never
ventured
nearer
than
thirty
feet
from
its
awful
front
.
Now
,
as
Archer
rang
the
bell
,
the
long
tinkle
seemed
to
echo
through
a
mausoleum
;
and
the
surprise
of
the
butler
who
at
length
responded
to
the
call
was
as
great
as
though
he
had
been
summoned
from
his
final
sleep.Happily
Archer
was
of
the
family
,
and
therefore
,
irregular
though
his
arrival
was
,
entitled
to
be
informed
that
the
Countess
Olenska
was
out
,
having
driven
to
afternoon
service
with
Mrs.
van
der
Luyden
exactly
three
quarters
of
an
hour
earlier
.
"
Mr.
van
der
Luyden
,
"
the
butler
continued
,
"
is
in
,
sir
;
but
my
impression
is
that
he
is
either
finishing
his
nap
or
else
reading
yesterday
's
Evening
Post
.
I
heard
him
say
,
sir
,
on
his
return
from
church
this
morning
,
that
he
intended
to
look
through
the
Evening
Post
after
luncheon
;
if
you
like
,
sir
,
I
might
go
to
the
library
door
and
listen
--
"
But
Archer
,
thanking
him
,
said
that
he
would
go
and
meet
the
ladies
;
and
the
butler
,
obviously
relieved
,
closed
the
door
on
him
majestically.A
groom
took
the
cutter
to
the
stables
,
and
Archer
struck
through
the
park
to
the
high-road
.
The
village
of
Skuytercliff
was
only
a
mile
and
a
half
away
,
but
he
knew
that
Mrs.
van
der
Luyden
never
walked
,
and
that
he
must
keep
to
the
road
to
meet
the
carriage
.
Presently
,
however
,
coming
down
a
foot-path
that
crossed
the
highway
,
he
caught
sight
of
a
slight
figure
in
a
red
cloak
,
with
a
big
dog
running
ahead
.
He
hurried
forward
,
and
Madame
Olenska
stopped
short
with
a
smile
of
welcome
.
"
Ah
,
you
've
come
!
"
she
said
,
and
drew
her
hand
from
her
muff.The
red
cloak
made
her
look
gay
and
vivid
,
like
the
Ellen
Mingott
of
old
days
;
and
he
laughed
as
he
took
her
hand
,
and
answered
:
"
I
came
to
see
what
you
were
running
away
from
.
"
Her
face
clouded
over
,
but
she
answered
:
"
Ah
,
well
--
you
will
see
,
presently
.
"
The
answer
puzzled
him
.
"
Why
--
do
you
mean
that
you
've
been
overtaken
?
"
She
shrugged
her
shoulders
,
with
a
little
movement
like
Nastasia
's
,
and
rejoined
in
a
lighter
tone
:
"
Shall
we
walk
on
?
I
'm
so
cold
after
the
sermon
.
And
what
does
it
matter
,
now
you
're
here
to
protect
me
?
"
The
blood
rose
to
his
temples
and
he
caught
a
fold
of
her
cloak
.
"
Ellen
--
what
is
it
?
You
must
tell
me
.
"
"
Oh
,
presently
--
let
's
run
a
race
first
:
my
feet
are
freezing
to
the
ground
,
"
she
cried
;
and
gathering
up
the
cloak
she
fled
away
across
the
snow
,
the
dog
leaping
about
her
with
challenging
barks
.
For
a
moment
Archer
stood
watching
,
his
gaze
delighted
by
the
flash
of
the
red
meteor
against
the
snow
;
then
he
started
after
her
,
and
they
met
,
panting
and
laughing
,
at
a
wicket
that
led
into
the
park.She
looked
up
at
him
and
smiled
.
"
I
knew
you
'd
come
!
"
"
That
shows
you
wanted
me
to
,
"
he
returned
,
with
a
disproportionate
joy
in
their
nonsense
.
The
white
glitter
of
the
trees
filled
the
air
with
its
own
mysterious
brightness
,
and
as
they
walked
on
over
the
snow
the
ground
seemed
to
sing
under
their
feet
.
"
Where
did
you
come
from
?
"
Madame
Olenska
asked.He
told
her
,
and
added
:
"
It
was
because
I
got
your
note
.
"
After
a
pause
she
said
,
with
a
just
perceptible
chill
in
her
voice
:
"
May
asked
you
to
take
care
of
me
.
"
"
I
did
n't
need
any
asking
.
"
"
You
mean
--
I
'm
so
evidently
helpless
and
defenceless
?
What
a
poor
thing
you
must
all
think
me
!
But
women
here
seem
not
--
seem
never
to
feel
the
need
:
any
more
than
the
blessed
in
heaven
.
"
He
lowered
his
voice
to
ask
:
"
What
sort
of
a
need
?
"
"
Ah
,
do
n't
ask
me
!
I
do
n't
speak
your
language
,
"
she
retorted
petulantly.The
answer
smote
him
like
a
blow
,
and
he
stood
still
in
the
path
,
looking
down
at
her
.
"
What
did
I
come
for
,
if
I
do
n't
speak
yours
?
"
"
Oh
,
my
friend
--
!
"
She
laid
her
hand
lightly
on
his
arm
,
and
he
pleaded
earnestly
:
"
Ellen
--
why
wo
n't
you
tell
me
what
's
happened
?
"
She
shrugged
again
.
"
Does
anything
ever
happen
in
heaven
?
"
He
was
silent
,
and
they
walked
on
a
few
yards
without
exchanging
a
word
.
Finally
she
said
:
"
I
will
tell
you
--
but
where
,
where
,
where
?
One
ca
n't
be
alone
for
a
minute
in
that
great
seminary
of
a
house
,
with
all
the
doors
wide
open
,
and
always
a
servant
bringing
tea
,
or
a
log
for
the
fire
,
or
the
newspaper
!
Is
there
nowhere
in
an
American
house
where
one
may
be
by
one
's
self
?
You
're
so
shy
,
and
yet
you
're
so
public
.
I
always
feel
as
if
I
were
in
the
convent
again
--
or
on
the
stage
,
before
a
dreadfully
polite
audience
that
never
applauds
.
"
"
Ah
,
you
do
n't
like
us
!
"
Archer
exclaimed.They
were
walking
past
the
house
of
the
old
Patroon
,
with
its
squat
walls
and
small
square
windows
compactly
grouped
about
a
central
chimney
.
The
shutters
stood
wide
,
and
through
one
of
the
newly-washed
windows
Archer
caught
the
light
of
a
fire
.
"
Why
--
the
house
is
open
!
"
he
said.She
stood
still
.
"
No
;
only
for
today
,
at
least
.
I
wanted
to
see
it
,
and
Mr.
van
der
Luyden
had
the
fire
lit
and
the
windows
opened
,
so
that
we
might
stop
there
on
the
way
back
from
church
this
morning
.
"
She
ran
up
the
steps
and
tried
the
door
.
"
It
's
still
unlocked
--
what
luck
!
Come
in
and
we
can
have
a
quiet
talk
.
Mrs.
van
der
Luyden
has
driven
over
to
see
her
old
aunts
at
Rhinebeck
and
we
sha
n't
be
missed
at
the
house
for
another
hour
.
"
He
followed
her
into
the
narrow
passage
.
His
spirits
,
which
had
dropped
at
her
last
words
,
rose
with
an
irrational
leap
.
The
homely
little
house
stood
there
,
its
panels
and
brasses
shining
in
the
firelight
,
as
if
magically
created
to
receive
them
.
A
big
bed
of
embers
still
gleamed
in
the
kitchen
chimney
,
under
an
iron
pot
hung
from
an
ancient
crane
.
Rush-bottomed
arm-chairs
faced
each
other
across
the
tiled
hearth
,
and
rows
of
Delft
plates
stood
on
shelves
against
the
walls
.
Archer
stooped
over
and
threw
a
log
upon
the
embers.Madame
Olenska
,
dropping
her
cloak
,
sat
down
in
one
of
the
chairs
.
Archer
leaned
against
the
chimney
and
looked
at
her
.
"
You
're
laughing
now
;
but
when
you
wrote
me
you
were
unhappy
,
"
he
said
.
"
Yes
.
"
She
paused
.
"
But
I
ca
n't
feel
unhappy
when
you
're
here
.
"
"
I
sha
'n'
t
be
here
long
,
"
he
rejoined
,
his
lips
stiffening
with
the
effort
to
say
just
so
much
and
no
more
.
"
No
;
I
know
.
But
I
'm
improvident
:
I
live
in
the
moment
when
I
'm
happy
.
"
The
words
stole
through
him
like
a
temptation
,
and
to
close
his
senses
to
it
he
moved
away
from
the
hearth
and
stood
gazing
out
at
the
black
tree-boles
against
the
snow
.
But
it
was
as
if
she
too
had
shifted
her
place
,
and
he
still
saw
her
,
between
himself
and
the
trees
,
drooping
over
the
fire
with
her
indolent
smile
.
Archer
's
heart
was
beating
insubordinately
.
What
if
it
were
from
him
that
she
had
been
running
away
,
and
if
she
had
waited
to
tell
him
so
till
they
were
here
alone
together
in
this
secret
room
?
"
Ellen
,
if
I
'm
really
a
help
to
you
--
if
you
really
wanted
me
to
come
--
tell
me
what
's
wrong
,
tell
me
what
it
is
you
're
running
away
from
,
"
he
insisted.He
spoke
without
shifting
his
position
,
without
even
turning
to
look
at
her
:
if
the
thing
was
to
happen
,
it
was
to
happen
in
this
way
,
with
the
whole
width
of
the
room
between
them
,
and
his
eyes
still
fixed
on
the
outer
snow
.
For
a
long
moment
she
was
silent
;
and
in
that
moment
Archer
imagined
her
,
almost
heard
her
,
stealing
up
behind
him
to
throw
her
light
arms
about
his
neck
.
While
he
waited
,
soul
and
body
throbbing
with
the
miracle
to
come
,
his
eyes
mechanically
received
the
image
of
a
heavily-coated
man
with
his
fur
collar
turned
up
who
was
advancing
along
the
path
to
the
house
.
The
man
was
Julius
Beaufort
.
"
Ah
--
!
"
Archer
cried
,
bursting
into
a
laugh.Madame
Olenska
had
sprung
up
and
moved
to
his
side
,
slipping
her
hand
into
his
;
but
after
a
glance
through
the
window
her
face
paled
and
she
shrank
back
.
"
So
that
was
it
?
"
Archer
said
derisively
.
"
I
did
n't
know
he
was
here
,
"
Madame
Olenska
murmured
.
Her
hand
still
clung
to
Archer
's
;
but
he
drew
away
from
her
,
and
walking
out
into
the
passage
threw
open
the
door
of
the
house
.
"
Hallo
,
Beaufort
--
this
way
!
Madame
Olenska
was
expecting
you
,
"
he
said.During
his
journey
back
to
New
York
the
next
morning
,
Archer
relived
with
a
fatiguing
vividness
his
last
moments
at
Skuytercliff.Beaufort
,
though
clearly
annoyed
at
finding
him
with
Madame
Olenska
,
had
,
as
usual
,
carried
off
the
situation
high-handedly
.
His
way
of
ignoring
people
whose
presence
inconvenienced
him
actually
gave
them
,
if
they
were
sensitive
to
it
,
a
feeling
of
invisibility
,
of
nonexistence
.
Archer
,
as
the
three
strolled
back
through
the
park
,
was
aware
of
this
odd
sense
of
disembodiment
;
and
humbling
as
it
was
to
his
vanity
it
gave
him
the
ghostly
advantage
of
observing
unobserved.Beaufort
had
entered
the
little
house
with
his
usual
easy
assurance
;
but
he
could
not
smile
away
the
vertical
line
between
his
eyes
.
It
was
fairly
clear
that
Madame
Olenska
had
not
known
that
he
was
coming
,
though
her
words
to
Archer
had
hinted
at
the
possibility
;
at
any
rate
,
she
had
evidently
not
told
him
where
she
was
going
when
she
left
New
York
,
and
her
unexplained
departure
had
exasperated
him
.
The
ostensible
reason
of
his
appearance
was
the
discovery
,
the
very
night
before
,
of
a
"
perfect
little
house
,
"
not
in
the
market
,
which
was
really
just
the
thing
for
her
,
but
would
be
snapped
up
instantly
if
she
did
n't
take
it
;
and
he
was
loud
in
mock-reproaches
for
the
dance
she
had
led
him
in
running
away
just
as
he
had
found
it
.
"
If
only
this
new
dodge
for
talking
along
a
wire
had
been
a
little
bit
nearer
perfection
I
might
have
told
you
all
this
from
town
,
and
been
toasting
my
toes
before
the
club
fire
at
this
minute
,
instead
of
tramping
after
you
through
the
snow
,
"
he
grumbled
,
disguising
a
real
irritation
under
the
pretence
of
it
;
and
at
this
opening
Madame
Olenska
twisted
the
talk
away
to
the
fantastic
possibility
that
they
might
one
day
actually
converse
with
each
other
from
street
to
street
,
or
even
--
incredible
dream
!
--
from
one
town
to
another
.
This
struck
from
all
three
allusions
to
Edgar
Poe
and
Jules
Verne
,
and
such
platitudes
as
naturally
rise
to
the
lips
of
the
most
intelligent
when
they
are
talking
against
time
,
and
dealing
with
a
new
invention
in
which
it
would
seem
ingenuous
to
believe
too
soon
;
and
the
question
of
the
telephone
carried
them
safely
back
to
the
big
house.Mrs
.
van
der
Luyden
had
not
yet
returned
;
and
Archer
took
his
leave
and
walked
off
to
fetch
the
cutter
,
while
Beaufort
followed
the
Countess
Olenska
indoors
.
It
was
probable
that
,
little
as
the
van
der
Luydens
encouraged
unannounced
visits
,
he
could
count
on
being
asked
to
dine
,
and
sent
back
to
the
station
to
catch
the
nine
o'clock
train
;
but
more
than
that
he
would
certainly
not
get
,
for
it
would
be
inconceivable
to
his
hosts
that
a
gentleman
travelling
without
luggage
should
wish
to
spend
the
night
,
and
distasteful
to
them
to
propose
it
to
a
person
with
whom
they
were
on
terms
of
such
limited
cordiality
as
Beaufort.Beaufort
knew
all
this
,
and
must
have
foreseen
it
;
and
his
taking
the
long
journey
for
so
small
a
reward
gave
the
measure
of
his
impatience
.
He
was
undeniably
in
pursuit
of
the
Countess
Olenska
;
and
Beaufort
had
only
one
object
in
view
in
his
pursuit
of
pretty
women
.
His
dull
and
childless
home
had
long
since
palled
on
him
;
and
in
addition
to
more
permanent
consolations
he
was
always
in
quest
of
amorous
adventures
in
his
own
set
.
This
was
the
man
from
whom
Madame
Olenska
was
avowedly
flying
:
the
question
was
whether
she
had
fled
because
his
importunities
displeased
her
,
or
because
she
did
not
wholly
trust
herself
to
resist
them
;
unless
,
indeed
,
all
her
talk
of
flight
had
been
a
blind
,
and
her
departure
no
more
than
a
manoeuvre.Archer
did
not
really
believe
this
.
Little
as
he
had
actually
seen
of
Madame
Olenska
,
he
was
beginning
to
think
that
he
could
read
her
face
,
and
if
not
her
face
,
her
voice
;
and
both
had
betrayed
annoyance
,
and
even
dismay
,
at
Beaufort
's
sudden
appearance
.
But
,
after
all
,
if
this
were
the
case
,
was
it
not
worse
than
if
she
had
left
New
York
for
the
express
purpose
of
meeting
him
?
If
she
had
done
that
,
she
ceased
to
be
an
object
of
interest
,
she
threw
in
her
lot
with
the
vulgarest
of
dissemblers
:
a
woman
engaged
in
a
love
affair
with
Beaufort
"
classed
"
herself
irretrievably.No
,
it
was
worse
a
thousand
times
if
,
judging
Beaufort
,
and
probably
despising
him
,
she
was
yet
drawn
to
him
by
all
that
gave
him
an
advantage
over
the
other
men
about
her
:
his
habit
of
two
continents
and
two
societies
,
his
familiar
association
with
artists
and
actors
and
people
generally
in
the
world
's
eye
,
and
his
careless
contempt
for
local
prejudices
.
Beaufort
was
vulgar
,
he
was
uneducated
,
he
was
purse-proud
;
but
the
circumstances
of
his
life
,
and
a
certain
native
shrewdness
,
made
him
better
worth
talking
to
than
many
men
,
morally
and
socially
his
betters
,
whose
horizon
was
bounded
by
the
Battery
and
the
Central
Park
.
How
should
any
one
coming
from
a
wider
world
not
feel
the
difference
and
be
attracted
by
it?Madame
Olenska
,
in
a
burst
of
irritation
,
had
said
to
Archer
that
he
and
she
did
not
talk
the
same
language
;
and
the
young
man
knew
that
in
some
respects
this
was
true
.
But
Beaufort
understood
every
turn
of
her
dialect
,
and
spoke
it
fluently
:
his
view
of
life
,
his
tone
,
his
attitude
,
were
merely
a
coarser
reflection
of
those
revealed
in
Count
Olenski
's
letter
.
This
might
seem
to
be
to
his
disadvantage
with
Count
Olenski
's
wife
;
but
Archer
was
too
intelligent
to
think
that
a
young
woman
like
Ellen
Olenska
would
necessarily
recoil
from
everything
that
reminded
her
of
her
past
.
She
might
believe
herself
wholly
in
revolt
against
it
;
but
what
had
charmed
her
in
it
would
still
charm
her
,
even
though
it
were
against
her
will.Thus
,
with
a
painful
impartiality
,
did
the
young
man
make
out
the
case
for
Beaufort
,
and
for
Beaufort
's
victim
.
A
longing
to
enlighten
her
was
strong
in
him
;
and
there
were
moments
when
he
imagined
that
all
she
asked
was
to
be
enlightened.That
evening
he
unpacked
his
books
from
London
.
The
box
was
full
of
things
he
had
been
waiting
for
impatiently
;
a
new
volume
of
Herbert
Spencer
,
another
collection
of
the
prolific
Alphonse
Daudet
's
brilliant
tales
,
and
a
novel
called
"
Middlemarch
,
"
as
to
which
there
had
lately
been
interesting
things
said
in
the
reviews
.
He
had
declined
three
dinner
invitations
in
favour
of
this
feast
;
but
though
he
turned
the
pages
with
the
sensuous
joy
of
the
book-lover
,
he
did
not
know
what
he
was
reading
,
and
one
book
after
another
dropped
from
his
hand
.
Suddenly
,
among
them
,
he
lit
on
a
small
volume
of
verse
which
he
had
ordered
because
the
name
had
attracted
him
:
"
The
House
of
Life
.
"
He
took
it
up
,
and
found
himself
plunged
in
an
atmosphere
unlike
any
he
had
ever
breathed
in
books
;
so
warm
,
so
rich
,
and
yet
so
ineffably
tender
,
that
it
gave
a
new
and
haunting
beauty
to
the
most
elementary
of
human
passions
.
All
through
the
night
he
pursued
through
those
enchanted
pages
the
vision
of
a
woman
who
had
the
face
of
Ellen
Olenska
;
but
when
he
woke
the
next
morning
,
and
looked
out
at
the
brownstone
houses
across
the
street
,
and
thought
of
his
desk
in
Mr.
