"Whatever your troubles," he said, "I am the man to take you away from

them; that is, if you are not afraid. You told me you had no friends.

Neither have I. Nobody ever cared for me as far as I can remember.

Perhaps you could. Yes, I live on the sea. But who would you be parting

from? No one. You have no one belonging to you."

At this point she broke away from him and ran. He did not pursue her.

The tall hedges tossing in the wind, the wide fields, the clouds driving

over the sky and the sky itself wheeled about her in masses of green and

white and blue as if the world were breaking up silently in a whirl, and

her foot at the next step were bound to find the void. She reached the

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gate all right, got out, and, once on the road, discovered that she had

not the courage to look back. The rest of that day she spent with the

Fyne girls who gave her to understand that she was a slow and

unprofitable person. Long after tea, nearly at dusk, Captain Anthony

(the son of the poet) appeared suddenly before her in the little garden

in front of the cottage. They were alone for the moment. The wind had

dropped. In the calm evening air the voices of Mrs. Fyne and the girls

strolling aimlessly on the road could be heard. He said to her severely:

"You have understood?"

She looked at him in silence.

"That I love you," he finished.

She shook her head the least bit.

"Don't you believe me?" he asked in a low, infuriated voice.

"Nobody would love me," she answered in a very quiet tone. "Nobody

could."

He was dumb for a time, astonished beyond measure, as he well might have

been. He doubted his ears. He was outraged.

"Eh? What? Can't love you? What do you know about it? It's my affair,

isn't it? You dare say that to a man who has just told you! You must

be mad!"

"Very nearly," she said with the accent of pent-up sincerity, and even

relieved because she was able to say something which she felt was true.

For the last few days she had felt herself several times near that

madness which is but an intolerable lucidity of apprehension.

The clear voices of Mrs. Fyne and the girls were coming nearer, sounding

affected in the peace of the passion-laden earth. He began storming at

her hastily.




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