III + 

In the tragedy the elopement became lost and forgotten. Doctors came and went; even reporters put in an awkward appearance, eager for details of the death and the marriage in the Pentland family, and somehow the confusion brought peace to Olivia. They forgot her, save as one who managed everything quietly; for they had need just then of someone who did not break into wild spasms of grief or wander about helplessly. In the presence of death, Anson forgot even his anger over the elopement, and late in the afternoon Olivia saw him for the first time when he came to her helplessly to ask, вАЬThe men have come to photograph the portraits. What shall we do?вАЭ + 

And she answered, вАЬSend them away. We can photograph ancestors any time. TheyвАЩll always be with us.вАЭ + 

Sabine volunteered to send word to Sybil and Jean. At such times all her cold-blooded detachment made of her a person of great value, and Olivia knew that she could be trusted to find them because she wanted her motor again desperately. Remembering her promise to the old man, she went across to see Mrs.¬†Soames, but nothing came of it, for the old lady had fallen into a state of complete unconsciousness. She would, they told Olivia, probably die without ever knowing that John Pentland had gone before her. + 

Aunt Cassie took up her throne in the darkened drawing-room and there, amid the acrid smell of the first chrysanthemums of the autumn, she held a red-eyed, snuffling court to receive the calls of all the countryside. Again she seemed to rise for a time triumphant and strong, even overcoming her weakness enough to go and come from the gazeboed house on foot, arriving early and returning late. She insisted upon summoning Bishop Smallwood to conduct the services, and discovered after much trouble that he was attending a church conference in the West. In reply to her telegram she received only an answer that it was impossible for him to return, even if they delayed the funeralвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that in the role of prominent defender of the Virgin Birth he could not leave the field at a moment when the power of his party was threatened. + 

It seemed for a time that, as Sabine had hoped, the whole structure of the family was falling about them in ruins. + 

As for Olivia, she would have been at peace save that three times within two days notes came to her from MichaelвБ†вАФnotes which she sent back unopened because she was afraid to read them; until at last she wrote on the back of one, вАЬThere is nothing more to say. Leave me in peace.вАЭ And after that there was only silence, which in a strange way seemed to her more unbearable than the sight of his writing. She discovered that two persons had witnessed the tragedyвБ†вАФHiggins, who had been riding with the old man, and Sabine, who had been walking the river pathвБ†вАФwalking only because Jean and Sybil had her motor. Higgins knew only that the mare had run off and killed his master; but Sabine had a strangely different version, which she recounted to Olivia as they sat in her room, the day after. + 

вАЬI saw them,вАЭ she said, вАЬcoming across the meadow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Cousin John, with Higgins following. And then, all at once, the mare seemed to be frightened by something and began to runвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ straight in a line for the gravel-pit. It was a fascinating sightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a horrible sightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ because I knewвБ†вАФI was certainвБ†вАФwhat was going to happen. For a moment Cousin John seemed to fight with her, and then all at once he leaned forward on her neck and let her go. Higgins went after him; but it was no use trying to catch her.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ One might as well have tried to overtake a whirlwind. They seemed to fly across the fields straight for the line of elders that hid the pit, and I knew all the while that there was no saving them unless the mare turned. At the bushes the mare jumpedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ the prettiest jump IвАЩve ever seen a horse make, straight above the bushes into the open air.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

For a moment SabineвАЩs face was lighted by a macabre enthusiasm. Her voice wavered a little. вАЬIt was a horrible, beautiful sight. For a moment they seemed almost to rise in the air as if the mare were flying, and then all at once they fellвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ into the bottom of the pit.вАЭ + 

Olivia was silent, and presently, as if she had been waiting for the courage, Sabine continued in a low voice, вАЬBut thereвАЩs one thing I saw beyond any doubt. At the edge of the pit the mare tried to turn. She would have turned away, but Cousin John raised his crop and struck her savagely. There was no doubt of it. He forced her over the elders.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Again after a pause, вАЬHiggins must have seen it, too. He followed them to the very edge of the pit. I shall always see him there, sitting on his horse outlined against the sky. He was looking down into the pit and for a moment the horse and man together looked exactly like a centaur.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was an extraordinary impression.вАЭ + 

She remembered him thus, but she remembered him, too, as she had seen him on the night of the ball, slipping away through the lilacs like a shadow. Rising, she said, вАЬJean and Sybil will be back tomorrow, and then IвАЩll be off for Newport. I thought you might want to know what Higgins and I knew, Olivia.вАЭ For a moment she hesitated, looking out of the window toward the sea. And at last she said, вАЬHe was a queer man. He was the last of the great Puritans. There arenвАЩt any more. None of the rest of us believe anything. We only pretend.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

But Olivia scarcely heard her. She understood now why it was that the old man had talked to her as if he were very near to death, and she thought, вАЬHe did it in a way that none would ever discover. He trusted Higgins, and Sabine was an accident. PerhapsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ perhapsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ he did it to keep me hereвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ to save the thing he believed in all his life.вАЭ + 

It was a horrible thought which she tried to kill, but it lingered, together with the regret that she had never finished what she had begun to tell him as they stood by the hedge talking of the lettersвБ†вАФthat one day Jean might take the name of John Pentland. He had, after all, as much right to it as he had to the name of de Cyon; it would be only a little change, but it would allow the name of Pentland to go on and on. All the land, all the money, all the tradition, would go down to Pentland children, and so make a reason for their existence; and in the end the name would be something more then than a thing embalmed in The Pentland Family and the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The descendants would be, after all, of Pentland blood, or at least of the blood of Savina Dalgedo and Toby Cane, which had come long ago to be Pentland blood. + 

And she thought grimly, вАЬHe was right, after all. I am one of them at lastвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in spite of everything. ItвАЩs I who am carrying on now.вАЭ + 

On the morning of the funeral, as she stood on the terrace expecting Jean and Sybil, Higgins, dressed in his best black suit and looking horribly awkward and ill at ease, came toward her to say, looking away from her, вАЬMr.¬†OвАЩHara is going away. TheyвАЩre putting up a вАШFor SaleвАЩ sign on his gate. He isnвАЩt coming back.вАЭ And then looking at her boldly he added, вАЬI thought you might want to know, Mrs.¬†Pentland.вАЭ + 

For a moment she had a sudden, fierce desire to cry out, вАЬNo, he mustnвАЩt go! You must tell him to stay. I canвАЩt let him go away like that!вАЭ She wanted suddenly to run across the fields to the bright, vulgar, new house, to tell him herself. She thought, вАЬHe meant, then, what he said. HeвАЩs given up everything here.вАЭ + 

But she knew, too, that he had gone away to fight, freed now and moved only by his passion for success, for victory. + 

And before she could answer Higgins, who stood there wanting her to send him to Michael, Miss Egan appeared, starched and rigid and wearing the professional expression of solemnity which she adopted in the presence of bereaved families. She said, вАЬItвАЩs about her, Mrs.¬†Pentland. She seems very bright this morning and quite in her right mind. She wants to know why he hasnвАЩt been to see her for two whole days. I thought.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 

Olivia interrupted her quietly. вАЬItвАЩs all right,вАЭ she said. вАЬIвАЩll go and tell her. IвАЩll explain. ItвАЩs better for me to do it.вАЭ + 

She went away into the house, knowing bitterly that she left Miss Egan and Higgins thinking of her with pity. + 

As she climbed the worn stair carpet to the north wing, she knew suddenly a profound sense of peace such as she had not known for years. It was over and done now, and life would go on the same as it had always done, filled with trickiness and boredom and deceits, but pleasant, too, in spite of everything, perhaps because, as John Pentland had said, вАЬOne had sometimes to pretend.вАЭ And, after all, Sybil had escaped and was happy. + 

She knew now that she herself would never escape; she had been too long a part of Pentlands, and she knew that what the old man had said was the truth. She had acted thus not because of duty, or promises, or nobility, or pride, or even out of virtue.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Perhaps it was even because she was not strong enough to do otherwise. But she knew that she had acted thus because, as he said, вАЬThere are things, Olivia, which people like us canвАЩt do.вАЭ + 

And as she moved along the narrow hall, she saw from one of the deep-set windows the figure of Sabine moving along the lane in a faint cloud of dust, and nearer at hand, at the entrance of the elm-bordered drive, Aunt Cassie in deep black, coming along briskly in a cloud of crape. No, nothing had changed. It would go on and on.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

The door opened and the sickly odor of medicines flooded the hallway. Out of the darkness came the sound of a feeble, reedlike voice, terrible in its sanity, saying, вАЬOh, itвАЩs you, Olivia. I knew youвАЩd come. IвАЩve been waiting for you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ + 