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She
pictured
herself
gradually
subdued
to
such
a
conception
of
life
and
love
,
she
pictured
Effie
growing
up
under
the
influence
of
the
woman
she
saw
herself
becoming
—
and
she
hid
her
eyes
from
the
humiliation
of
the
picture
.
.
.
They
were
at
luncheon
when
the
summons
that
Darrow
expected
was
brought
to
him
.
He
handed
the
telegram
to
Anna
,
and
she
learned
that
his
Ambassador
,
on
the
way
to
a
German
cure
,
was
to
be
in
Paris
the
next
evening
and
wished
to
confer
with
him
there
before
he
went
back
to
London
.
The
idea
that
the
decisive
moment
was
at
hand
was
so
agitating
to
her
that
when
luncheon
was
over
she
slipped
away
to
the
terrace
and
thence
went
down
alone
to
the
garden
.
The
day
was
grey
but
mild
,
with
the
heaviness
of
decay
in
the
air
.
She
rambled
on
aimlessly
,
following
under
the
denuded
boughs
the
path
she
and
Darrow
had
taken
on
their
first
walk
to
the
river
.
She
was
sure
he
would
not
try
to
overtake
her
:
sure
he
would
guess
why
she
wished
to
be
alone
.
There
were
moments
when
it
seemed
to
double
her
loneliness
to
be
so
certain
of
his
reading
her
heart
while
she
was
so
desperately
ignorant
of
his
.
.
.
She
wandered
on
for
more
than
an
hour
,
and
when
she
returned
to
the
house
she
saw
,
as
she
entered
the
hall
,
that
Darrow
was
seated
at
the
desk
in
Owen
’
s
study
.
He
heard
her
step
,
and
looking
up
turned
in
his
chair
without
rising
.
Their
eyes
met
,
and
she
saw
that
his
were
clear
and
smiling
.
He
had
a
heap
of
papers
at
his
elbow
and
was
evidently
engaged
in
some
official
correspondence
.
She
wondered
that
he
could
address
himself
so
composedly
to
his
task
,
and
then
ironically
reflected
that
such
detachment
was
a
sign
of
his
superiority
.
She
crossed
the
threshold
and
went
toward
him
;
but
as
she
advanced
she
had
a
sudden
vision
of
Owen
,
standing
outside
in
the
cold
autumn
dusk
and
watching
Darrow
and
Sophy
Viner
as
they
faced
each
other
across
the
lamplit
desk
.
.
.
.
The
evocation
was
so
vivid
that
it
caught
her
breath
like
a
blow
,
and
she
sank
down
helplessly
on
the
divan
among
the
piled
-
up
books
.
Distinctly
,
at
the
moment
,
she
understood
that
the
end
had
come
.
“
When
he
speaks
to
me
I
will
tell
him
!
”
she
thought
.
.
.
Darrow
,
laying
aside
his
pen
,
looked
at
her
for
a
moment
in
silence
;
then
he
stood
up
and
shut
the
door
.
“
I
must
go
to
-
morrow
early
,
”
he
said
,
sitting
down
beside
her
.
His
voice
was
grave
,
with
a
slight
tinge
of
sadness
.
She
said
to
herself
:
“
He
knows
what
I
am
feeling
.
.
.
”
and
now
the
thought
made
her
feel
less
alone
.
The
expression
of
his
face
was
stern
and
yet
tender
:
for
the
first
time
she
understood
what
he
had
suffered
.
She
had
no
doubt
as
to
the
necessity
of
giving
him
up
,
but
it
was
impossible
to
tell
him
so
then
.
She
stood
up
and
said
:
“
I
’
ll
leave
you
to
your
letters
.
”
He
made
no
protest
,
but
merely
answered
:
“
You
’
ll
come
down
presently
for
a
walk
?
”
and
it
occurred
to
her
at
once
that
she
would
walk
down
to
the
river
with
him
,
and
give
herself
for
the
last
time
the
tragic
luxury
of
sitting
at
his
side
in
the
little
pavilion
.
“
Perhaps
,
”
she
thought
,
“
it
will
be
easier
to
tell
him
there
.
”
It
did
not
,
on
the
way
home
from
their
walk
,
become
any
easier
to
tell
him
;
but
her
secret
decision
to
do
so
before
he
left
gave
her
a
kind
of
factitious
calm
and
laid
a
melancholy
ecstasy
upon
the
hour
.
Still
skirting
the
subject
that
fanned
their
very
faces
with
its
flame
,
they
clung
persistently
to
other
topics
,
and
it
seemed
to
Anna
that
their
minds
had
never
been
nearer
together
than
in
this
hour
when
their
hearts
were
so
separate
.
In
the
glow
of
interchanged
love
she
had
grown
less
conscious
of
that
other
glow
of
interchanged
thought
which
had
once
illumined
her
mind
.
She
had
forgotten
how
Darrow
had
widened
her
world
and
lengthened
out
all
her
perspectives
,
and
with
a
pang
of
double
destitution
she
saw
herself
alone
among
her
shrunken
thoughts
.
For
the
first
time
,
then
,
she
had
a
clear
vision
of
what
her
life
would
be
without
him
.
She
imagined
herself
trying
to
take
up
the
daily
round
,
and
all
that
had
lightened
and
animated
it
seemed
equally
lifeless
and
vain
.
She
tried
to
think
of
herself
as
wholly
absorbed
in
her
daughter
’
s
development
,
like
other
mothers
she
had
seen
;
but
she
supposed
those
mothers
must
have
had
stored
memories
of
happiness
to
nourish
them
.
She
had
had
nothing
,
and
all
her
starved
youth
still
claimed
its
due
.
