mind, to distinguish different
individuals within, consciously refusing as yet to attack the figure of
Katharine. His thoughts lingered over Mrs. Hilbery and Cassandra; and
then he turned to Rodney and Mr. Hilbery. Physically, he saw them bathed
in that steady flow of yellow light which filled the long oblongs of the
windows; in their movements they were beautiful; and in their speech he
figured a reserve of meaning, unspoken, but understood. At length, after
all this half-conscious selection and arrangement, he allowed himself
to approach the figure of Katharine herself; and instantly the scene
was flooded with excitement. He did not see her in the body; he seemed
curiously to see her as a shape of light, the light itself; he seemed,
simplified and exhausted as he was, to be like one of those lost birds
fascinated by the lighthouse and held to the glass by the splendor of
the blaze.

These thoughts drove him to tramp a beat up and down the pavement before
the Hilberys' gate. He did not trouble himself to make any plans for the
future. Something of an unknown kind would decide both the coming year
and the coming hour. Now and again, in his vigil, he sought the light in
the long windows, or glanced at the ray which gilded a few leaves and
a few blades of grass in the little garden. For a long time the light
burnt without changing. He had just reached the limit of his beat and
was turning, when the front door opened, and the aspect of the house was
entirely changed. A black figure came down the little pathway and paused
at the gate. Denham understood instantly that it was Rodney. Without
hesitation, and conscious only of a great friendliness for any one
coming from that lighted room, he walked straight up to him and stopped
him. In the flurry of the wind Rodney was taken aback, and for the
moment tried to press on, muttering something, as if he suspected a
demand upon his charity.

"Goodness, Denham, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed, recognizing
him.

Ralph mumbled something about being on his way home. They walked on
together, though Rodney walked quick enough to make it plain that he had
no wish for company.

He was very unhappy. That afternoon Cassandra had repulsed him; he
had tried to explain to her the difficulties of the situation, and
to suggest the nature of his feelings for her without saying anything
definite or anything offensive to her. But he had lost his head; under
the goad of Katharine's ridic