Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (175 page)

Here
and
there
rude
dwellings
came
to
view.
Low
shanties
patched together
with
mud
and
rock,
and
all
browned
and
baked
by
the
sun and
the
rain;
and
as
I
rode,
these
small
habitations
became
more numerous,
and
from
them
dogs
and
children
swarmed,
snarling
and yelping
and
squeaking.

Again
these
fell
behind,
and
on
another
tum
a
great
park
came
to the
view;
and
across
it
a
building
showed
gaunt
and
massive,
with turrets
at
the
corners
and
in
front,
and
the
black
silhouettes
of
men were
moving
in
those
airy
tops.

My
horse
pulled
up,
all
spread-eagled
and
snorting,
before
a
flight of
stone
steps,
before
which
and
on
which
armed
men
were
clustered and
pacing,
and
I
went
up
those
steps
as
one
having
right
of
entry. At
the
top
I
stood
for
an
instant
to
look
back
on
the
rolling
grass through
which
I
had
galloped
a
minute
before.

The
evening
was
approaching.
Ragged
clouds,
yet
shot
with
sunlight, were
piling
in
the
sky,
and
there
was
a
surmised
but
scarcely
perceptible
greyness
in
the
air.
Over
the
grass
silence
was
coming,
almost physically,
so
that
the
armed
rattle
and
tramp
and
the
chatter
of
voices about
me
had
a
detached
sound,
as
though
these
were
but
momentary interruptions
of
the
great
silence
that
was
on
its
way.
That
quietude, premonition
of
silence,
brings
with
it
a
chill
to
the
heart;
as
tho'
an unseen
presence
whispered
something,
unintelligible
but
understood; conveying
a
warning
that
the
night
comes,
that
silence
comes,
that
an end
comes
to
all
movement
of
mind
and
limb.

For
when
I
parted
from
my
horse
I
parted
from
my
mood;
and was
again
a
discontented
person,
filled
with
an
impatience
that
seethed within
me
as
water
bubbles
in
a
boiling
pot.

"She,"
I
thought,
"shall
choose
to-day
whether
she
likes
to
or
not."

And,
having
expressed
itself,
my
will
set
in
that
determination
as a
rock
is
set
in
a
stream.

A
person
came
to
my
beckoning
finger,
and
replied
to
my
enquiry—

"Your
honour
is
expected.
Will
your
honour
be.
pleased
to
follow me?"

She
was
sitting
in
the
midst
of
a
company
and
on
my
approach gave
me
her
hand
to
kiss.
I
saluted
it
half
kneeling,
and
raking
her eyes
with
a
savage
stare,
which
she
returned
with
the
quiet
constancy to
which
I
was
accustomed
and
which
always
set
me
wild,
so
that
the wish
I
had
to
beat
her
was
only
laid
by
the
other—and
overflowing —desire
I
had
to
kiss
her.

I
rose
to
my
feet,
stepped
some
paces
back,
and
the
conversation I
had
interrupted
recommenced.

I
was
intensely
aware
of
her
and
of
myself;
but
saving
for
us
the place
was
empty
for
me.
I
could
feel
my
chin
sinking
to
my
breast; feel
my
eyes
strained
upwards
in
my
bent
face;
feel
my
body
projecting
itself
against
the
lips
I
stared
at;
and
I
knew
that
she
was
not unaware
of
me.