giously, to the sacrifice. He should have her. And at
the thought her whole body clenched itself involuntarily, hard, as if
against something; but Life forced her through this gate of suffering,
too, and she would submit. At any rate, it would give him what he
wanted, which was her deepest wish. She brooded and brooded and brooded
herself towards accepting him.

He courted her now like a lover. Often, when he grew hot, she put his
face from her, held it between her hands, and looked in his eyes.
He could not meet her gaze. Her dark eyes, full of love, earnest and
searching, made him turn away. Not for an instant would she let him
forget. Back again he had to torture himself into a sense of his
responsibility and hers. Never any relaxing, never any leaving himself
to the great hunger and impersonality of passion; he must be brought
back to a deliberate, reflective creature. As if from a swoon of passion
she caged him back to the littleness, the personal relationship. He
could not bear it. "Leave me alone--leave me alone!" he wanted to cry;
but she wanted him to look at her with eyes full of love. His eyes, full
of the dark, impersonal fire of desire, did not belong to her.

There was a great crop of cherries at the farm. The trees at the back
of the house, very large and tall, hung thick with scarlet and crimson
drops, under the dark leaves. Paul and Edgar were gathering the fruit
one evening. It had been a hot day, and now the clouds were rolling in
the sky, dark and warm. Paul combed high in the tree, above the scarlet
roofs of the buildings. The wind, moaning steadily, made the whole tree
rock with a subtle, thrilling motion that stirred the blood. The young
man, perched insecurely in the slender branches, rocked till he felt
slightly drunk, reached down the boughs, where the scarlet beady
cherries hung thick underneath, and tore off handful after handful of
the sleek, cool-fleshed fruit. Cherries touched his ears and his neck as
he stretched forward, their chill finger-tips sending a flash down his
blood. All shades of red, from a golden vermilion to a rich crimson,
glowed and met his eyes under a darkness of leaves.

The sun, going down, suddenly caught the broken clouds. Immense piles of
gold flared out in the south-east, heaped in soft, glowing yellow right
up the sky. The world, till now dusk and grey, reflected the gold glow,
astonished. Everywhere the trees, and the grass, and the far-off water,
seemed roused