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Coming
up
precipitately
that
morning
from
the
country
,
she
had
reached
Paris
at
one
o
’
clock
and
Miss
Painter
’
s
landing
some
ten
minutes
later
.
Miss
Painter
’
s
mouldy
little
man
-
servant
,
dissembling
a
napkin
under
his
arm
,
had
mildly
attempted
to
oppose
her
entrance
;
but
Anna
,
insisting
,
had
gone
straight
to
the
dining
-
room
and
surprised
her
friend
—
who
ate
as
furtively
as
certain
animals
—
over
a
strange
meal
of
cold
mutton
and
lemonade
.
Ignoring
the
embarrassment
she
caused
,
she
had
set
forth
the
object
of
her
journey
,
and
Miss
Painter
,
always
hatted
and
booted
for
action
,
had
immediately
hastened
out
,
leaving
her
to
the
solitude
of
the
bare
fireless
drawing
-
room
with
its
eternal
slip
-
covers
and
“
bowed
”
shutters
.
In
this
inhospitable
obscurity
Anna
had
sat
alone
for
close
upon
two
hours
.
Both
obscurity
and
solitude
were
acceptable
to
her
,
and
impatient
as
she
was
to
hear
the
result
of
the
errand
on
which
she
had
despatched
her
hostess
,
she
desired
still
more
to
be
alone
.
During
her
long
meditation
in
a
white
-
swathed
chair
before
the
muffled
hearth
she
had
been
able
for
the
first
time
to
clear
a
way
through
the
darkness
and
confusion
of
her
thoughts
.
The
way
did
not
go
far
,
and
her
attempt
to
trace
it
was
as
weak
and
spasmodic
as
a
convalescent
’
s
first
efforts
to
pick
up
the
thread
of
living
.
She
seemed
to
herself
like
some
one
struggling
to
rise
from
a
long
sickness
of
which
it
would
have
been
so
much
easier
to
die
.
At
Givre
she
had
fallen
into
a
kind
of
torpor
,
a
deadness
of
soul
traversed
by
wild
flashes
of
pain
;
but
whether
she
suffered
or
whether
she
was
numb
,
she
seemed
equally
remote
from
her
real
living
and
doing
self
.
It
was
only
the
discovery
—
that
very
morning
—
of
Owen
’
s
unannounced
departure
for
Paris
that
had
caught
her
out
of
her
dream
and
forced
her
back
to
action
.
The
dread
of
what
this
flight
might
imply
,
and
of
the
consequences
that
might
result
from
it
,
had
roused
her
to
the
sense
of
her
responsibility
,
and
from
the
moment
when
she
had
resolved
to
follow
her
step
-
son
,
and
had
made
her
rapid
preparations
for
pursuit
,
her
mind
had
begun
to
work
again
,
feverishly
,
fitfully
,
but
still
with
something
of
its
normal
order
.
In
the
train
she
had
been
too
agitated
,
too
preoccupied
with
what
might
next
await
her
,
to
give
her
thoughts
to
anything
but
the
turning
over
of
dread
alternatives
;
but
Miss
Painter
’
s
imperviousness
had
steadied
her
,
and
while
she
waited
for
the
sound
of
the
latch
-
key
she
resolutely
returned
upon
herself
.
With
respect
to
her
outward
course
she
could
at
least
tell
herself
that
she
had
held
to
her
purpose
.
She
had
,
as
people
said
,
“
kept
up
”
during
the
twenty
-
four
hours
preceding
George
Darrow
’
s
departure
;
had
gone
with
a
calm
face
about
her
usual
business
,
and
even
contrived
not
too
obviously
to
avoid
him
.
Then
,
the
next
day
before
dawn
,
from
behind
the
closed
shutters
where
she
had
kept
for
half
the
night
her
dry
-
eyed
vigil
,
she
had
heard
him
drive
off
to
the
train
which
brought
its
passengers
to
Paris
in
time
for
the
Calais
express
.
The
fact
of
his
taking
that
train
,
of
his
travelling
so
straight
and
far
away
from
her
,
gave
to
what
had
happened
the
implacable
outline
of
reality
.
He
was
gone
;
he
would
not
come
back
;
and
her
life
had
ended
just
as
she
had
dreamed
it
was
beginning
.
She
had
no
doubt
,
at
first
,
as
to
the
absolute
inevitability
of
this
conclusion
.
The
man
who
had
driven
away
from
her
house
in
the
autumn
dawn
was
not
the
man
she
had
loved
;
he
was
a
stranger
with
whom
she
had
not
a
single
thought
in
common
.
It
was
terrible
,
indeed
,
that
he
wore
the
face
and
spoke
in
the
voice
of
her
friend
,
and
that
,
as
long
as
he
was
under
one
roof
with
her
,
the
mere
way
in
which
he
moved
and
looked
could
bridge
at
a
stroke
the
gulf
between
them
.
That
,
no
doubt
,
was
the
fault
of
her
exaggerated
sensibility
to
outward
things
:
she
was
frightened
to
see
how
it
enslaved
her
.
A
day
or
two
before
she
had
supposed
the
sense
of
honour
was
her
deepest
sentiment
:
if
she
had
smiled
at
the
conventions
of
others
it
was
because
they
were
too
trivial
,
not
because
they
were
too
grave
.
There
were
certain
dishonours
with
which
she
had
never
dreamed
that
any
pact
could
be
made
:
she
had
had
an
incorruptible
passion
for
good
faith
and
fairness
.
She
had
supposed
that
,
once
Darrow
was
gone
,
once
she
was
safe
from
the
danger
of
seeing
and
hearing
him
,
this
high
devotion
would
sustain
her
.
She
had
believed
it
would
be
possible
to
separate
the
image
of
the
man
she
had
thought
him
from
that
of
the
man
he
was
.
She
had
even
foreseen
the
hour
when
she
might
raise
a
mournful
shrine
to
the
memory
of
the
Darrow
she
had
loved
,
without
fear
that
his
double
’
s
shadow
would
desecrate
it
.
But
now
she
had
begun
to
understand
that
the
two
men
were
really
one
.
The
Darrow
she
worshipped
was
inseparable
from
the
Darrow
she
abhorred
;
and
the
inevitable
conclusion
was
that
both
must
go
,
and
she
be
left
in
the
desert
of
a
sorrow
without
memories
.
.
.
But
if
the
future
was
thus
void
,
the
present
was
all
too
full
.
Never
had
blow
more
complex
repercussions
;
and
to
remember
Owen
was
to
cease
to
think
of
herself
.
What
impulse
,
what
apprehension
,
had
sent
him
suddenly
to
Paris
?
And
why
had
he
thought
it
needful
to
conceal
his
going
from
her
?
When
Sophy
Viner
had
left
,
it
had
been
with
the
understanding
that
he
was
to
await
her
summons
;
and
it
seemed
improbable
that
he
would
break
his
pledge
,
and
seek
her
without
leave
,
unless
his
lover
’
s
intuition
had
warned
him
of
some
fresh
danger
.
Anna
recalled
how
quickly
he
had
read
the
alarm
in
her
face
when
he
had
rushed
back
to
her
sitting
-
room
with
the
news
that
Miss
Viner
had
promised
to
see
him
again
in
Paris
.
To
be
so
promptly
roused
,
his
suspicions
must
have
been
but
half
-
asleep
;
and
since
then
,
no
doubt
,
if
she
and
Darrow
had
dissembled
,
so
had
he
.
To
her
proud
directness
it
was
degrading
to
think
that
they
had
been
living
together
like
enemies
who
spy
upon
each
other
’
s
movements
:
she
felt
a
desperate
longing
for
the
days
which
had
seemed
so
dull
and
narrow
,
but
in
which
she
had
walked
with
her
head
high
and
her
eyes
unguarded
.
She
had
come
up
to
Paris
hardly
knowing
what
peril
she
feared
,
and
still
less
how
she
could
avert
it
.
If
Owen
meant
to
see
Miss
Viner
—
and
what
other
object
could
he
have
?
—
they
must
already
be
together
,
and
it
was
too
late
to
interfere
.
