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 ing year and
the ing 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 ing 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 ex
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claimed； 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 pany。
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 ridicule he had said too much；
and Cassandra； superb in her dignity and severity； had
refused to hear another word； and threatened an immediate
return to her home。 His agitation； after an evening
spent between the two women； was extreme。 Moreover；
he could not help suspecting that Ralph was wandering
near the Hilberys’ house； at this hour； for reasons connected
with Katharine。 There was probably some understanding
between them—not that anything of the kind
mattered to him now。 He was convinced that he had never
cared for any one save Cassandra； and Katharine’s future
was no concern of his。 Aloud； he said； shortly； that he
was very tired and wished to find a cab。 But on Sunday
night； on the Embankment； cabs were hard to e by；
and Rodney found himself constrained to walk some distance；
at any rate； in Denham’s pany。 Denham maintained
his silence。 Rodney’s irritation lapsed。 He found
the silence oddly suggestive of the good masculine qualities
which he much respected； and had at this moment
great reason to need。 After the mystery； difficulty； and
uncertainty of dealing with the other sex； intercourse
with one’s own is apt to have a posing and even
ennobling influence； since plain speaking is possible and
subterfuges of no avail。 Rodney； too； was much in need
of a confidant； Katharine； despite her promises of help；
had failed him at the critical moment； she had gone off
with Denham； she was； perhaps； tormenting Denham as
she had tormented him。 How grave and stable he seemed；
speaking little； and walking firmly； pared with what
Rodney knew of his own torments and indecisions！ He
began to cast about for some way of telling the story of
his relations with Katharine and Cassandra that would
not lower him in Denham’s eyes。 It then occurred to him
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Night and Day
that； perhaps； Katharine herself had confided in Denham；
they had something in mon； it was likely that they
had discussed him that very afternoon。 The desire to discover
what they had said of him now came uppermost in
his mind。 He recalled Katharine’s laugh； he remembered
that she had gone； laughing； to walk with Denham。
“Did you stay long after we’d left？” he asked abruptly。
“No。 We went back to my house。”
This seemed to confirm Rodney’s belief that he had
been discussed。 He turned over the unpalatable idea for
a while； in silence。
“Women are inprehensible creatures； Denham！” he
then exclaimed。
“Um；” said Denham； who seemed to himself possessed
of plete understanding； not merely of women； but of
the entire universe。 He could read Rodney； too； like a
book。 He knew that he was unhappy； and he pitied him；
and wished to help him。
“You say something and they—fly into a passion。 Or
for no reason at all； they laugh。 I take it that no amount
of education will—” The remainder of the sentence was
lost in the high wind； against which they had to struggle；
but Denham understood that he referred to Katharine’s
laughter； and that the memory of it was still hurting him。
In parison with Rodney； Denham felt himself very
secure； he saw Rodney as one of the lost birds dashed
senseless against the glass； one of the flying bodies of
which the air was full。 But he and Katharine were alone
together； aloft； splendid； and luminous with a twofold
radiance。 He pitied the unstable creature beside him； he
felt a desire to protect him； exposed without the knowledge
which made his own way so direct。 They were united
as the adventurous are united； though one reaches the
goal and the other perishes by the way。
“You couldn’t laugh at some one you cared for。”
This sentence； apparently addressed to no other human
being； reached Denham’s ears。 The wind seemed to muffle
it and fly away with it directly。 Had Rodney spoken those
words？
“You love her。” Was that his own voice； which seemed
to sound in the air several yards in front of him？
“I’ve suffered tortures； Denham； tortures！”
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“Yes； yes； I know that。”
“She’s laughed at me。”
“Never—to me。”
The wind blew a space between the words—blew them
so far away that they seemed unspoken。
“How I’ve loved her！”
This was certainly spoken by the man at Denham’s side。
The voice had all the marks of Rodney’s character； and
recalled； with； strange vividness； his personal appearance。
Denham could see him against the blank buildings
and towers of the horizon。 He saw him dignified； exalted；
and tragic； as he might have appeared thinking of
Katharine alone in his rooms at night。
“I am in love with Katharine myself。 That is why I am
here tonight。”
Ralph spoke distinctly and deliberately； as if Rodney’s
confession had made this statement necessary。
Rodney exclaimed something inarticulate。
“Ah； I’ve always known it；” he cried； “I’ve known it
from the first。 You’ll marry her！”
The cry had a note of despair in it。 Again the wind
intercepted their words。 They said no more。 At length
they drew up beneath a lamppost； simultaneously。
“My God； Denham； what fools we both are！” Rodney
exclaimed。 They looked at each other； queerly； in the light
of the lamp。 Fools！ They seemed to confess to each other
the extreme depths of their folly。 For the moment； under
the lamppost； they seemed to be aware of some mon
knowledge which did away with the possibility of
rivalry； and made them feel more sympathy for each other
than for any one else in the world。 Giving simultaneously
a little nod； as if in confirmation of this understanding；
they parted without speaking again。
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Night and Day
CHAPTER XXIX
Between twelve and one that Sunday night Katharine lay
in bed； not asleep； but in that twilight region where a
detached and humorous view of our own lot is possible；
or if we must be serious； our seriousness is tempered by
the swift one of slumber and oblivion。 She saw the
forms of Ralph； William； Cassandra； and herself； as if they
were all equally unsubstantial； and； in putting off reality；
had gained a kind of dignity which rested upon each
impartially。 Thus rid of any unfortable warmth of partisanship
or load of obligation； she was dropping off to
sleep when a light tap sounded upon her door。 A moment
later Cassandra stood beside her； holding a candle and
speaking in the low tones proper to the time of night。
“Are you awake； Katharine？”
“Yes； I’m awake。 What is it？”
She roused herself； sat up； and asked what in Heaven’s
name Cassandra was doing？
“I couldn’t sleep； and I thought I’d e and speak to
you—only for a moment； though。 I’m going home to
morrow。”
“Home？ Why； what has happened？”
“Something happened today which makes it impossible
for me to stay here。”
Cassandra spoke formally； almost solemnly； the announcement
was clearly prepared and marked a crisis of
the utmost gravity。 She continued what seemed to be
part of a set speech。
“I have decided to tell you the whole truth； Katharine。
William allowed himself to behave in a way which made
me extremely unfortable today。”
Katharine seemed to waken pletely； and at once to
be in control of herself。
“At the