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hand； and saying； 〃Good…night；〃 ran after Dawney。
In the corridor； Dominique； carrying a dish of fruit； met the
sisters； he informed them that Miss Naylor had retired to bed； that
Herr Paul would not be home to dinner； his master was dining in his
room； dinner would be served for Mrs。 Decie and the two young ladies
in a quarter of an hour： 〃And the fish is good to…night； little
trouts！ try them； Signorina！〃 He moved on quickly； softly； like a
cat； the tails of his dress…coat flapping； and the heels of his white
socks gleaming。
Christian ran upstairs。 She flew about her room； feeling that if she
once stood still it would all crystallise in hard painful thought；
which motion alone kept away。 She washed； changed her dress and
shoes； and ran down to her uncle's room。 Mr。 Treffry had just
finished dinner； pushed the little table back； and was sitting in his
chair； with his glasses on his nose； reading the Tines。 Christian
touched his forehead with her lips。
〃Glad to see you； Chris。 Your stepfather's out to dinner； and I
can't stand your aunt when she's in one of her talking moodsbit of
a humbug； Chris； between ourselves； eh； isn't she？〃 His eyes
twinkled。
Christian smiled。 There was a curious happy restlessness in her that
would not let her keep still。
〃Picture finished？〃 Mr。 Treffry asked suddenly； taking up the paper
with a crackle。 〃Don't go and fall in love with the painter； Chris。〃
Christian was still enough now。
'Why not？' she thought。 'What should you know about him？ Isn't he
good enough for me？' A gong sounded。
〃There's your dinner；〃 Mr。 Treffry remarked。
With sudden contrition she bent and kissed him。
But when she had left the room Mr。 Treffry put down the Times and
stared at the door； humming to himself； and thoughtfully fingering
his chin。
Christian could not eat； she sat； indifferent to the hoverings of
Dominique； tormented by uneasy fear and longings。 She answered Mrs。
Decie at random。 Greta kept stealing looks at her from under her
lashes。
〃Decided characters are charming； don't you think so； Christian？〃
Mrs。 Decie said； thrusting her chin a little forward； and modelling
the words。 〃That is why I like Mr。 Harz so much； such an immense
advantage for a man to know his mind。 You have only to look at that
young man to see that he knows what he wants； and means to have it。〃
Christian pushed her plate away。 Greta； flushing； said abruptly：
〃Doctor Edmund is not a decided character； I think。 This afternoon
he said： 'Shall I have some beer…yes； I shallno； I shall not'； then
he ordered the beer； so； when it came； he gave it to the soldiers。〃
Mrs。 Decie turned her enigmatic smile from one girl to the other。
When dinner was over they went into her room。 Greta stole at once to
the piano； where her long hair fell almost to the keys； silently she
sat there fingering the notes； smiling to herself； and looking at her
aunt； who was reading Pater's essays。 Christian too had taken up a
book； but soon put it downof several pages she had not understood a
word。 She went into the garden and wandered about the lawn； clasping
her hands behind her head。 The air was heavy； very distant thunder
trembled among the mountains； flashes of summer lightning played over
the trees； and two great moths were hovering about a rosebush。
Christian watched their soft uncertain rushes。 Going to the little
summer…house she flung herself down on a seat； and pressed her hands
to her heart。
There was a strange and sudden aching there。 Was he going from her？
If so； what would be left？ How little and how narrow seemed the
outlook of her lifewith the world waiting for her； the world of
beauty； effort； self…sacrifice； fidelity！ It was as though a flash
of that summer lightning had fled by； singeing her； taking from her
all powers of flight； burning off her wings； as off one of those pale
hovering moths。 Tears started up； and trickled down her face。
'Blind！' she thought； 'how could I have been so blind？'
Some one came down the path。
〃Who's there？〃 she cried。
Harz stood in the doorway。
〃Why did you come out？〃 he said。 〃Ah！ why did you come out？〃 He
caught her hand； Christian tried to draw it from him； and to turn her
eyes away； but she could not。 He flung himself down on his knees；
and cried： 〃I love you！〃
In a rapture of soft terror Christian bent her forehead down to his
hand。
〃What are you doing？〃 she heard him say。 〃Is it possible that you
love me？〃 and she felt his kisses on her hair。
〃My sweet！ it will be so hard for you； you are so little； so little；
and so weak。〃 Clasping his hand closer to her face； she murmured： 〃I
don't care。〃
There was a long； soft silence； that seemed to last for ever。
Suddenly she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him。
〃Whatever comes！〃 she whispered； and gathering her dress； escaped
from him into the darkness。
XII
Christian woke next morning with a smile。 In her attitudes； her
voice； her eyes； there was a happy and sweet seriousness； as if she
were hugging some holy thought。 After breakfast she took a book and
sat in the open window； whence she could see the poplar…trees
guarding the entrance。 There was a breeze； the roses close by kept
nodding to her； the cathedral bells were in full chime； bees hummed
above the lavender； and in the sky soft clouds were floating like
huge； white birds。
The sounds of Miss Naylor's staccato dictation travelled across the
room； and Greta's sighs as she took it down； one eye on her paper；
one eye on Scruff； who lay with a black ear flapped across his paw；
and his tan eyebrows quivering。 He was in disgrace； for Dominique；
coming on him unawares； had seen him 〃say his prayers〃 before a
pudding； and take the pudding for reward。
Christian put her book down gently； and slipped through the window。
Harz was coming in from the road。 〃I am all yours！〃 she whispered。
His fingers closed on hers； and he went into the house。
She slipped back； took up her book； and waited。 It seemed long
before he came out； but when he did he waved her back； and hurried
on； she had a glimpse of his face； white to the lips。 Feeling faint
and sick； she flew to her stepfather's room。
Herr Paul was standing in a corner with the utterly disturbed
appearance of an easy…going man； visited by the unexpected。 His fine
shirt…front was crumpled as if his breast had heaved too suddenly
under strong emotion； his smoked eyeglasses dangled down his back；
his fingers were embedded in his beard。 He was fixing his eye on a
spot in the floor as though he expected it to explode and blow them
to fragments。 In another corner Mrs。 Decie； with half…closed eyes；
was running her finger…tips across her brow。
〃What have you said to him？〃 cried Christian。
Herr Paul regarded her with glassy eyes。
〃Mein Gott！〃 he said。 〃Your aunt and I！〃