I + 

As the month of August moved toward an end there was no longer any doubt as to the вАЬfailingвАЭ of Aunt Cassie; it was confirmed by the very silence with which she surrounded the state of her health. For forty years one had discussed Aunt CassieвАЩs health as one discussed the weatherвБ†вАФa thing ever present in the consciousness of man about which one could do nothing, and now Aunt Cassie ceased suddenly to speak of her health at all. She even abandoned her habit of going about on foot and took to making her round of calls in the rattling motor which she protested to fear and loathe, and she came to lean more and more heavily upon the robust Miss Peavey for companionship and support. Claiming a fear of burglars, she had Miss PeaveyвАЩs bed moved into the room next to hers and kept the door open between. She developed, Olivia discovered, an almost morbid terror of being left alone. + 

And so the depression of another illness came to add its weight to the burden of JackвАЩs death and the grief of John Pentland. The task of battling the cloud of melancholy which hung over the old house grew more and more heavy upon OliviaвАЩs shoulders. Anson remained as usual indifferent to any changes in the life about him, living really in the past among all the sheaves of musty papers, a man not so much cold-blooded as bloodless, for there was nothing active nor calculating in his nature, but only a great inertia, a lack of all fire. And it was impossible to turn to Sabine, who in an odd way seemed as cold and detached as Anson; she appeared to stand at a little distance, waiting, watching them all, even Olivia herself. And it was of course unthinkable to cloud the happiness of Sybil by going to her for support. + 

There was at least OвАЩHara, who came more and more frequently to Pentlands, now that the first visit had been made and the ice was broken. Anson encountered him once in the hallway, coldly; and he had become very friendly with old John Pentland. The two had a common interest in horses and dogs and cattle, and OвАЩHara, born in the Boston slums and knowing very little on any of these subjects, perhaps found the old gentleman a valuable source of information. He told Olivia, вАЬI wouldnвАЩt come to the house except for you. I canвАЩt bear to think of you thereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ always aloneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ always troubled.вАЭ + 

And in the evenings, while they played bridge or listened to JeanвАЩs music, she sometimes caught his eye, watching her with the old admiration, telling her that he was ready to support her no matter what happened. + 

A week after the encounter with Miss Peavey at the catnip-bed, Peters came to OliviaвАЩs room late in the afternoon to say, with a curious blend of respect and confidence, вАЬHeвАЩs ill again, Mrs.¬†Pentland.вАЭ + 

She knew what Peters meant; it was a kind of code between them.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The same words used so many times before. + 

She went quickly to the tall narrow library that smelled of dogs and apples and woodsmoke, knowing well enough what she would find there; and on opening the door she saw him at once, lying asleep in the big leather chair. The faint odor of whiskyвБ†вАФa smell which had come long since to fill her always with a kind of horrorвБ†вАФhung in the air, and on the mahogany desk stood three bottles, each nearly emptied. He slept quietly, one arm flung across his chest, the other hanging to the floor, where the bony fingers rested limply against the Turkey-red carpet. There was something childlike in the peace which enveloped him. It seemed to Olivia that he was even free now of the troubles which long ago had left their mark in the harsh, bitter lines of the old face. The lines were gone, melted away somehow, drowned in the immense quiet of this artificial death. It was only thus, perhaps, that he slept quietly, untroubled by dreams. It was only thus that he ever escaped. + 

Standing in the doorway she watched him for a time, quietly, and then, turning, she said to Peters, вАЬWill you tell Higgins?вАЭ and entering the door she closed the red-plush curtains, shutting out the late afternoon sunlight. + 

Higgins came, as he had done so many times before, to lock the door and sit there in the room, even sleeping on the worn leather divan, until John Pentland, wakening slowly and looking about in a dazed way, discovered his groom sitting in the same room, polishing a bridle or a pair of riding-boots. The little man was never idle. Something deep inside him demanded action: he must always be doing something. And so, after these melancholy occasions, a new odor clung to the library for daysвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the fresh, clean, healthy odor of leather and harness-soap. + 

For two days Higgins stayed in the library, leaving it only for meals, and for two days the old lady in the north wing went unvisited. Save for this single room, there was no evidence of any change in the order of life at Pentlands. Jean, in ignorance of what had happened, came in the evenings to play. But Sabine knew; and Aunt Cassie, who never asked questions concerning the mysterious absence of her brother lest she be told the truth. Anson, as usual, noticed nothing. The only real change lay in a sudden display of sulking and ill-temper on the part of Miss Egan. The invincible nurse even quarreled with the cook, and was uncivil to Olivia, who thought, вАЬWhat next is to happen? I shall be forced to look for a new nurse.вАЭ + 

On the evening of the third day, just after dinner, Higgins opened the door and went in search of Olivia. + 

вАЬThe old gentleman is all right again,вАЭ he said. вАЬHeвАЩs gone to bathe and heвАЩd like to see you in the library in half an hour.вАЭ + 

She found him there, seated by the big mahogany desk, bathed and spotlessly neat in clean linen; but he looked very old and weary, and beneath the tan of the leathery face there was a pallor which gave him a yellowish look. It was his habit never to refer in any way to these sad occasions, to behave always as if he had only been away for a day or two and wanted to hear what had happened during his absence. + 

Looking up at her, he said gravely, вАЬI wanted to speak to you, Olivia. You werenвАЩt busy, were you? I didnвАЩt disturb you?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo,вАЭ she said. вАЬThereвАЩs nothing.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Jean and Th√©r√®se are here with Sybil.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThatвАЩs all.вАЭ + 

вАЬSybil,вАЭ he repeated. вАЬSybil.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs very happy these days, isnвАЩt she?вАЭ Olivia nodded and even smiled a little, in a warm, understanding way, so that he added, вАЬWell, we mustnвАЩt spoil her happiness. We mustnвАЩt allow anything to happen to it.вАЭ + 

A light came into the eyes of Olivia. вАЬNo; we mustnвАЩt,вАЭ she repeated, and then, вАЬSheвАЩs a clever girl.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She knows what she wants from life, and thatвАЩs the whole secret. Most people never know until itвАЩs too late.вАЭ + 

A silence followed this speech, so eloquent, so full of unsaid things, that Olivia grew uneasy. + 

вАЬI wanted to talk to you aboutвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he hesitated for a moment, and she saw that beneath the edge of the table his hands were clenched so violently that the bony knuckles showed through the brown skin. вАЬI wanted to talk to you about a great many things.вАЭ He stirred and added abruptly, вАЬFirst of all, thereвАЩs my will.вАЭ + 

He opened the desk and took out a packet of papers, separating them carefully into little piles before he spoke again. There was a weariness in all his movements. вАЬIвАЩve made some changes,вАЭ he said, вАЬchanges that you ought to know aboutвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and there are one or two other things.вАЭ He looked at her from under the fierce, shaggy eyebrows. вАЬYou see, I havenвАЩt long to live. IвАЩve no reason to expect to live forever and I want to leave things in perfect order, as they have always been.вАЭ + 

To Olivia, sitting in silence, the conversation became suddenly painful. With each word she felt a wall rising about her, shutting her in, while the old man went on and on with an agonizing calmness, with an air of being certain that his will would be obeyed in death as it had always been in life. + 

вАЬTo begin with, you will all be left very richвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ very richвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ something over six million dollars. And itвАЩs solid money, OliviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ money not made by gambling, but money thatвАЩs been saved and multiplied by careful living. For seventy-five years itвАЩs been the tradition of the family to live on the income of its income. WeвАЩve managed to do it somehow, and in the end weвАЩre richвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ very rich.вАЭ + 

As he talked he kept fingering the papers nervously, placing them in neat little piles, arranging and rearranging them. + 

вАЬAnd, as you know, Olivia, the money has been kept in a way so that the principal could never be spent. SybilвАЩs grandchildren will be able to touch some of itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that is, if you are unwise enough to leave it to them that way.вАЭ + 

Olivia looked up suddenly. вАЬBut why me? What have I to do with it?вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs what IвАЩm coming to, Olivia dear.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs because IвАЩm leaving control of the whole fortune to you.вАЭ + 

Suddenly, fiercely, she wanted none of it. She had a quick, passionate desire to seize all the neatly piled papers and burn them, to tear them into small bits and fling them out of the window. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt want it!вАЭ she said. вАЬWhy should you leave it to me? IвАЩm rich myself. I donвАЩt want it! IвАЩm not a Pentland.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs not my money. IвАЩve nothing to do with it.вАЭ In spite of herself, there was a note of passionate resentment in her voice. + 

The shaggy brows raised faintly in a look of surprise. + 

вАЬTo whom, if not to you?вАЭ he asked. + 

After a moment, she said, вАЬWhy, AnsonвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ to Anson, I suppose.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt really think that?вАЭ + 

вАЬItвАЩs his moneyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Pentland moneyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not mine. IвАЩve all the money I need and more.вАЭ + 

вАЬItвАЩs yours, Olivia.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He looked at her sharply. вАЬYouвАЩre more a Pentland than Anson, in spite of bloodвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in spite of name. YouвАЩre more a Pentland than any of them. ItвАЩs your money by every right in spite of anything you can do.вАЭ + 

(вАЬBut Anson isnвАЩt a Pentland, nor you either,вАЭ thought Olivia.) + 

вАЬItвАЩs you who are dependable, who are careful, who are honorable, Olivia. YouвАЩre the strong one. When I die, youвАЩll be the head of the family.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Surely, you know thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ already.вАЭ + 

(вАЬI,вАЭ thought Olivia, вАЬI who have been so giddy, who am planning to betray you all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I am all this!вАЭ) + 

вАЬIf I left it to Anson, it would be wasted, lost on foolish ideas. HeвАЩs no idea of business.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThereвАЩs a screw loose in Anson.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ HeвАЩs a crank. HeвАЩd be giving away this good money to missionaries and queer committeesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ societies for meddling in the affairs of people. That wasnвАЩt what this fortune was made for. No, I wonвАЩt have Pentland money squandered like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd I,вАЭ asked Olivia. вАЬHow do you know what I will do with it?вАЭ + 

He smiled softly, affectionately. вАЬI know what youвАЩll do with it, because I know you, Olivia, my dear.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩll keep it safe and intact.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ YouвАЩre the Pentland of the family. You werenвАЩt when you came here, but you are now. I mean that you belong to the grand tradition of PentlandsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the old ones who hang out there in the hall. YouвАЩre the only one leftвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for Sybil is too young. SheвАЩs only a childвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ yet.вАЭ + 

Olivia was silent, but beneath the silence there ran a torrent of cold, rebellious thoughts. Being a Pentland, then, was not a matter of blood: it was an idea, even an ideal. She thought fiercely, вАЬIвАЩm not a Pentland. IвАЩm alive. I am myself. IвАЩve not been absorbed into nothing. All these years havenвАЩt changed me so much. They havenвАЩt made me into a Pentland.вАЭ But for the sake of her affection, she could say none of these things. She only said, вАЬHow do you know what IвАЩll do with it? How do you know that I mightnвАЩt squander it extravagantlyвБ†вАФorвБ†вАФor even run away, taking all that was free with me. No one could stop meвБ†вАФno one.вАЭ + 

He only repeated what he had said before, saying it more slowly this time, as if to impress her. вАЬI know what youвАЩll do with it, Olivia, because I know you, Olivia dearвБ†вАФyouвАЩd never do anything foolish or shamefulвБ†вАФI know thatвБ†вАФthatвАЩs why I trust you.вАЭ + 

And when she did not answer him, he asked, вАЬYou will accept it, wonвАЩt you, Olivia? YouвАЩll have the help of a good lawyerвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ one of the bestвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ John Mannering. It will please me, Olivia, and it will let the world know what I think of you, what you have been to me all these yearsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ all that Anson has never beenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ nor my own sister, Cassie.вАЭ He leaned across the table, touching her white hand gently. вАЬYou will, Olivia?вАЭ + 

It was impossible to refuse, impossible even to protest any further, impossible to say that in this very moment she wanted only to run away, to escape, to leave them all forever, now that Sybil was safe. Looking away, she said in a low voice, вАЬYes.вАЭ + 

It was impossible to desert him nowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ an old, tired man. The bond between them was too strong; it had existed for too long, since that first day she had come to Pentlands as AnsonвАЩs bride and known that it was the father and not the son whom she respected. In a way, he had imposed upon her something of his own rugged, patriarchal strength. It seemed to her that she had been caught when she meant most to escape; and she was frightened, too, by the echoing thought that perhaps she had become, after all, a PentlandвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ hard, cautious, unadventurous and a little bitter, one for whom there was no fire or glamour in life, one who worshiped a harsh, changeable, invisible goddess called Duty. She kept thinking of SabineвАЩs bitter remark about вАЬthe lower middle-class virtues of the PentlandsвАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the lack of fire, the lack of splendor, of gallantry. And yet this fierce old man was gallant, in an odd fashion.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Even Sabine knew that. + 

He was talking again. вАЬItвАЩs not only money thatвАЩs been left to you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThereвАЩs Sybil, whoвАЩs still too young to be let free.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

вАЬNo,вАЭ said Olivia with a quiet stubbornness, вАЬsheвАЩs not too young. SheвАЩs to do as she pleases. IвАЩve tried to make her wiser than I was at her ageвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ perhaps wiser than IвАЩve ever beenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ even now.вАЭ + 

вАЬPerhaps youвАЩre right, my dear. You have been so many timesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and things arenвАЩt the same as they were in my dayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ certainly not with young girls.вАЭ + 

He took up the papers again, fussing over them in a curious, nervous way, very unlike his usual firm, unrelenting manner. She had a flash of insight which told her that he was behaving thus because he wanted to avoid looking at her. She hated confidences and she was afraid now that he was about to tell her things she preferred never to hear. She hated confidences and yet she seemed to be a person who attracted them always. + 

вАЬAnd leaving Sybil out of it,вАЭ he continued, вАЬthereвАЩs queer old Miss Haddon in Durham whom, as you know, weвАЩve taken care of for years; and thereвАЩs Cassie, whoвАЩs growing old and ill, I think. We canвАЩt leave her to half-witted Miss Peavey. I know my sister Cassie has been a burden to you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs been a burden to me, all my life.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He smiled grimly. вАЬI suppose you know that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Then, after a pause, he said, вАЬBut most of all, thereвАЩs my wife.вАЭ + 

His voice assumed a queer, unnatural quality, from which all feeling had been removed. It became like the voices of deaf persons who never hear the sounds they make. + 

вАЬI canвАЩt leave her alone,вАЭ he said. вАЬAloneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ with no one to care for her save a paid nurse. I couldnвАЩt die and know that thereвАЩs no one to think of herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ save that wretched, efficient Miss EganвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a stranger. No, OliviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ thereвАЩs no one but you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No one I can trust.вАЭ He looked at her sharply. вАЬYouвАЩll promise me to keep her here alwaysвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ never to let them send her away? YouвАЩll promise?вАЭ + 

Again she was caught. вАЬOf course,вАЭ she said. вАЬOf course IвАЩll promise you that.вАЭ What else was she to say? + 

вАЬBecause,вАЭ he added, looking away from her once more, вАЬbecause I owe her thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ even after IвАЩm dead. I couldnвАЩt rest if she were shut up somewhereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ among strangers. You seeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ onceвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ once.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He broke off sharply, as if what he had been about to say was unbearable. + 

With Olivia the sense of uneasiness changed into actual terror. She wanted to cry out, вАЬStop!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt go on!вАЭ But some instinct told her that he meant to go on and on to the very end, painfully, despite anything she could do. + 

вАЬItвАЩs odd,вАЭ he was saying quite calmly, вАЬbut there seem to be only women leftвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ no menвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for Anson is really an old woman.вАЭ + 

Quietly, firmly, with the air of a man before a confessor, speaking almost as if she were invisible, impersonal, a creature who was a kind of machine, he went on, вАЬAnd of course, Horace Pentland is dead, so we neednвАЩt think of him any longer.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But thereвАЩs Mrs.¬†Soames.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He coughed and began again to weave the gaunt bony fingers in and out, as if what he had to say were drawn from the depth of his soul with a great agony. вАЬThereвАЩs Mrs.¬†Soames,вАЭ he repeated. вАЬI know that you understand about her, OliviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and IвАЩm grateful to you for having been kind and human where none of the others would have been. I fancy weвАЩve given Beacon Hill and Commonwealth Avenue subject for conversation for thirty yearsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ but I donвАЩt care about that. TheyвАЩve watched usвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ theyвАЩve known every time I went up the steps of her brownstone houseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the very hour I arrived and the hour I left. They have eyes, in our world, Olivia, even in the backs of their heads. You must remember that, my dear. They watch youвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ they see everything you do. They almost know what you thinkвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and when they donвАЩt know, they make it up. ThatвАЩs one of the signs of a sick, decaying worldвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that they get their living vicariouslyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ by watching someone else liveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that they live always in the past. ThatвАЩs the only reason I ever felt sorry for Horace PentlandвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the only reason that I had sympathy for him. It was cruel that he should have been born in such a place.вАЭ + 

The bitterness ran like acid through all the speech, through the very timbre of his voice. It burned in the fierce black eyes where the fire was not yet dead. Olivia believed that she was seeing him now for the first time, in his fullness, with nothing concealed. And as she listened, the old cloud of mystery that had always hidden him from her began to clear away like the fog lifting from the marshes in the early morning. She saw him now as he really wasвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a man fiercely masculine, bitter, clearheaded, and more human than the rest of them, who had never before betrayed himself even for an instant. + 

вАЬBut about Mrs.¬†Soames.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If anything should happen to me, OliviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ if I should die first, I want you to be kind to herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for my sake and for hers. SheвАЩs been patient and good to me for so long.вАЭ The bitterness seemed to flow away a little now, leaving only a kindling warmth in its place. вАЬSheвАЩs been good to me.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ SheвАЩs always understood, Olivia, even before you came here to help me. You and she, Olivia, have made life worth living for me. SheвАЩs been patientвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ more patient than you know. Sometimes I must have made life for her a hell on earthвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ but sheвАЩs always been there, waiting, full of gentleness and sympathy. SheвАЩs been ill most of the time youвАЩve known herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ old and ill. You canвАЩt imagine how beautiful she once was.вАЭ + 

вАЬI know,вАЭ said Olivia softly. вАЬI remember seeing her when I first came to PentlandsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and Sabine has told me.вАЭ + 

The name of Sabine appeared to rouse him suddenly. He sat up very straight and said, вАЬDonвАЩt trust Sabine too far, Olivia. She belongs to us, after all. SheвАЩs very like my sister CassieвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ more like her than you can imagine. ItвАЩs why they hate each other so. SheвАЩs Cassie turned inside out, as you might say. TheyвАЩd both sacrifice everything for the sake of stirring up some trouble or calamity that would interest them. They liveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ vicariously.вАЭ + 

Olivia would have interrupted him, defending Sabine and telling of the one real thing that had happened to herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the tragic love for her husband; she would have told him of all the abrupt, incoherent confidences Sabine had made her; but the old man gave her no chance. It seemed suddenly that he had become possessed, fiercely intent upon pouring out to her all the dark things he had kept hidden for so long. + 

(She kept thinking, вАЬWhy must I know all these things? Why must I take up the burden? Why was it that I should find those letters which had lain safe and hidden for so long?вАЭ) + 

He was talking again quietly, the bony fingers weaving in and out their nervous futile pattern. вАЬYou see, Olivia.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You see, she takes drugs nowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and thereвАЩs no use in trying to cure her. SheвАЩs old now, and it doesnвАЩt really matter. ItвАЩs not as if she were young with all her life before her.вАЭ + 

Almost without thinking, Olivia answered, вАЬI know that.вАЭ + 

He looked up quickly. вАЬKnow it?вАЭ he asked sharply. вАЬHow could you know it?вАЭ + 

вАЬSabine told me.вАЭ + 

The head bowed again. вАЬOh, Sabine! Of course! SheвАЩs dangerous. She knows far too much of the world. SheвАЩs known too many strange people.вАЭ And then he repeated again what he had said months ago after the ball. вАЬShe ought never to have come back here.вАЭ + 

Into the midst of the strange, disjointed conversation there came presently the sound of music drifting toward them from the distant drawing-room. John Pentland, who was a little deaf, did not hear it at first, but after a little time he sat up, listening, and turning toward her, asked, вАЬIs that SybilвАЩs young man?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes.вАЭ + 

вАЬHeвАЩs a nice boy, isnвАЩt he?вАЭ + 

вАЬA very nice boy.вАЭ + 

After a silence he asked, вАЬWhatвАЩs the name of the thing heвАЩs playing?вАЭ + 

Olivia could not help smiling. вАЬItвАЩs called вАШIвАЩm in Love Again and the Spring Is A-CominвАЩ.вАЩ Jean brought it back from Paris. A friend of his wrote itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ but names donвАЩt mean anything in music any more. No one listens to the words.вАЭ + 

A shadow of amusement crossed his face. вАЬSongs have queer names nowadays.вАЭ + 

She would have escaped, then, going quietly away. She stirred and even made a gesture toward leaving, but he raised his hand in the way he had, making her feel that she must obey him as if she were a child. + 

вАЬThere are one or two more things you ought to know, OliviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ things that will help you to understand. Someone has to know them. Someone.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He halted abruptly and again made a great effort to go on. The veins stood out sharply on the bony head. + 

вАЬItвАЩs about her chiefly,вАЭ he said, with the inevitable gesture toward the north wing. вАЬShe wasnвАЩt always that way. ThatвАЩs what I want to explain. You seeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ we were married when we were both very young. It was my father who wanted it. I was twenty and she was eighteen. My father had known her family always. They were cousins of ours, in a way, just as they were cousins of SabineвАЩs. He had gone to school with her father and they belonged to the same club and she was an only child with a prospect of coming into a great fortune. ItвАЩs an old story, you see, but a rather common one in our world.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ All these things counted, and as for myself, IвАЩd never had anything to do with women and IвАЩd never been in love with anyone. I was very young. I think they saw it as a perfect matchвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ made in the hard, prosperous Heaven of their dreams. She was very prettyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you can see even now that she must have been very pretty.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She was sweet, too, and innocent.вАЭ He coughed, and continued with a great effort. вАЬShe hadвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ she had a mind like a little childвАЩs. She knew nothingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a flower of innocence,вАЭ he added with a strange savagery. + 

And then, as if the effort were too much for him, he paused and sat staring out of the window toward the sea. To Olivia it seemed that he had slipped back across the years to the time when the poor old lady had been young and perhaps curiously shy of his ardent wooing. A silence settled again over the room, so profound that this time the faint, distant roaring of the surf on the rocks became audible, and then again the sound of JeanвАЩs music breaking in upon them. He was playing another tuneвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not вАЬIвАЩm in Love Again,вАЭ but one called вАЬUkulele Lady.вАЭ + 

вАЬI wish theyвАЩd stop that damned music!вАЭ said John Pentland. + 

вАЬIвАЩll go,вАЭ began Olivia, rising. + 

вАЬNoвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ donвАЩt go. You mustnвАЩt goвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not now.вАЭ He seemed anxious, almost terrified, perhaps by the fear that if he did not tell now he would never tell her the long story that he must tell to someone. вАЬNo, donвАЩt goвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not until IвАЩve finished, Olivia. I must finish.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I want you to know why such things happened as happened here yesterday and the day before in this room.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ThereвАЩs no excuse, but what I have to tell you may explain itвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a little.вАЭ + 

He rose and opening one of the bookcases, took out a bottle of whisky. Looking at her, he said, вАЬDonвАЩt worry, Olivia, I shanвАЩt repeat it. ItвАЩs only that IвАЩm feeling weak. It will never happen againвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ what happened yesterdayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ never. I give you my word.вАЭ + 

He poured out a full glass and seated himself once more, drinking the stuff slowly while he talked. + 

вАЬSo we were married, I thinking that I was in love with her, because I knew nothing of such thingsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ nothing. It wasnвАЩt really love, you see.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Olivia, IвАЩm going to tell you the truthвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ everythingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ all of the truth. It wasnвАЩt really love, you see. It was only that she was the only woman I had ever approached in that wayвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and I was a strong, healthy young man.вАЭ + 

He began to speak more and more slowly, as if each word were thrust out by an immense effort of will. вАЬAnd she knew nothingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ nothing at all. She was,вАЭ he said bitterly, вАЬall that a young woman was supposed to be. After the first night of the honeymoon, she was never quite the same againвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ never quite the same, Olivia. Do you know what that means? The honeymoon ended in a kind of madness, a fixed obsession. SheвАЩd been brought up to think of such things with a sacred horror and there was a touch of madness in her family. She was never the same again,вАЭ he repeated in a melancholy voice, вАЬand when Anson was born she went quite out of her head. She would not see me or speak to me. She fancied that I had disgraced her foreverвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and after that she could never be left alone without someone to watch her. She never went out again in the world.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

The voice died away into a hoarse whisper. The glass of whisky had been emptied in a supreme effort to break through the shell which had closed him in from all the world, from Olivia, whom he cherished, perhaps even from Mrs.¬†Soames, whom he had loved. In the distance the music still continued, this time as an accompaniment to the hard, loud voice of Th√©r√®se singing, вАЬIвАЩm in Love Again and the Spring Is A-CominвАЩ.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Th√©r√®se, the dark, cynical, invincible Th√©r√®se for whom life, from frogs to men, held very few secrets. + 

вАЬBut the story doesnвАЩt end there,вАЭ continued John Pentland weakly. вАЬIt goes onвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ because I came to know what being in love might be when I met Mrs.¬†Soames.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Only then,вАЭ he said sadly, as if he saw the tragedy from far off as a thing which had little to do with him. вАЬOnly then,вАЭ he repeated, вАЬit was too late. After what I had done to her, it was too late to fall in love. I couldnвАЩt abandon her. It was impossible. It ought never to have happened.вАЭ He straightened his tough old body and added, вАЬIвАЩve told you all this, Olivia, because I wanted you to understand why sometimes I amвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He paused for a moment and then plunged ahead, вАЬwhy I am a beast as I was yesterday. There have been times when it was the only way I could go on living.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And it harmed no one. There arenвАЩt many who ever knew about it.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I always hid myself. There was never any spectacle.вАЭ + 

Slowly OliviaвАЩs white hand stole across the polished surface of the desk and touched the brown, bony one that lay there now, quietly, like a hawk come to rest. She said nothing and yet the simple gesture carried an eloquence of which no words were capable. It brought tears into the burning eyes for the second time in the life of John Pentland. He had wept only once beforeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ on the night of his grandsonвАЩs death. And they were not, Olivia knew, tears of self-pity, for there was no self-pity in the tough, rugged old body; they were tears at the spectacle of a tragedy in which he happened by accident to be concerned. + 

вАЬI wanted you to know, my dear OliviaвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that I have never been unfaithful to her, not once in all the years since our wedding-night.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I know the world will never believe it, but I wanted you to know because, you see, you and Mrs.¬†Soames are the only ones who matter to meвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and she knows that it is true.вАЭ + 

And now that she knew the story was finished, she did not go away, because she knew that he wanted her to stay, sitting there beside him in silence, touching his hand. He was the sort of manвБ†вАФa man, she thought, like MichaelвБ†вАФwho needed women about him. + 

After a long time, he turned suddenly and asked, вАЬThis boy of SybilвАЩsвБ†вАФwho is he? What is he like?вАЭ + 

вАЬSabine knows about him.вАЭ + 

вАЬItвАЩs that which makes me afraid.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ HeвАЩs out of her world and IвАЩm not so sure that I like it. In SabineвАЩs world it doesnвАЩt matter who a person is or where he comes from as long as heвАЩs clever and amusing.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩve watched him.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve talked with him. I think him all that a girl could askвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a girl like Sybil, I mean.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I shouldnвАЩt recommend him to a silly girlвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ heвАЩd give such a wife a very bad time. Besides, I donвАЩt think we can do much about it. Sybil, I think, has decided.вАЭ + 

вАЬHas he asked her to marry him? Has he spoken to you?вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know whether heвАЩs asked her. He hasnвАЩt spoken to me. Young men donвАЩt bother about such things nowadays.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut Anson wonвАЩt like it. ThereвАЩll be troubleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and Cassie, too.вАЭ + 

вАЬYesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and still, if Sybil wants him, sheвАЩll have him. IвАЩve tried to teach her that in a case like thisвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ well,вАЭ she made a little gesture with her white hand, вАЬthat she should let nothing make any difference.вАЭ + 

He sat thoughtfully for a long time, and at last, without looking up and almost as if speaking to himself, he said, вАЬThere was once an elopement in the family.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Jared and Savina Pentland were married that way.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut that wasnвАЩt a happy matchвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ not too happy,вАЭ said Olivia; and immediately she knew that she had come near to betraying herself. A word or two more and he might have trapped her. She saw that it was impossible to add the burden of the letters to these other secrets. + 

As it was, he looked at her sharply, saying, вАЬNo one knows that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ One only knows that she was drowned.вАЭ + 

She saw well enough what he meant to tell her, by that vague hint regarding SavinaвАЩs elopement; only now he was back once more in the terrible shell; he was the mysterious, the false, John Pentland who could only hint but never speak directly. + 

The music ceased altogether in the drawing-room, leaving only the vague, distant, eternal pounding of the surf on the red rocks, and once the distant echo of a footstep coming from the north wing. The old man said presently, вАЬSo she wasnвАЩt falling in love with this man OвАЩHara, after all? There wasnвАЩt any need for worry?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, she never thought of him in that way, even for a moment.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ To her he seems an old man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ We mustnвАЩt forget how young she is.вАЭ + 

вАЬHeвАЩs not a bad sort,вАЭ replied the old man. вАЬIвАЩve grown fond of him, and Higgins thinks heвАЩs a fine fellow. IвАЩm inclined to trust Higgins. He has an instinct about peopleвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the same as he has about the weather.вАЭ He paused for a moment, and then continued, вАЬStill, I think weвАЩd best be careful about him. HeвАЩs a clever Irishman on the makeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and such gentlemen need watching. TheyвАЩre usually thinking only of themselves.вАЭ + 

вАЬPerhaps,вАЭ said Olivia, in a whisper. вАЬPerhaps.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

The silence was broken by the whirring and banging of the clock in the hall making ready to strike eleven. The evening had slipped away quickly, veiled in a mist of unreality. At last the truth had been spoken at PentlandsвБ†вАФthe grim, unadorned, terrible truth; and Olivia, who had hungered for it for so long, found herself shaken. + 

John Pentland rose slowly, painfully, for he had grown stiff and brittle with the passing of the summer. вАЬItвАЩs eleven, Olivia. YouвАЩd better go to bed and get some rest.вАЭ + 