ing from time to time to the
musical low, soft voice.

Carrying this fateful letter in his hand, he went down stairs and out
into the cool night air. And now he was haunted by a hundred fears.
Again and again he was on the point of turning back to add something, to
alter something, to find some phrase that would appeal more closely to
her heart. And then all of a sudden he convinced himself that he should
not have written at all. Why not have gone to see her, at any risk, to
plead with herself? But then he would have had to write to beg for a
_tete-a-tete_ interview; and would not that be more distinctly alarming
than this roundabout epistle, which was meant to convey so much
indirectly? Finally, he arrived at the pillar letter-box: and this
indisputable fact brought an end to his cogitations. If he had gone
walking onward he would have wasted the night in fruitless counsel. He
would have repeated again and again the sentences he had used; striven
to picture her as she read; wondered if he ought not still to go back
and strengthen his prayer. But now it was to be yes or no. Well, he
posted the letter; and then he breathed more freely. The die was cast,
for good or ill.

And, indeed, no sooner was the thing done than his spirits rose
considerably, and he walked on with a lighter heart. This solitary
London, all lamp-lit and silent, was a beautiful city. "_Schlaf selig
und suss_," the soft stirring of the night-wind seemed to say: let her
not dread the message the morning would bring! He thought of the other
cities she must have visited; and if--ah, the dream of it!--if he and
she were to go away together to behold the glories of the moonlight on
the lagoon, and the wonders of the sunrise among the hills! He had been
in Rome, he remembered, a wonderful coronet of rubies: would not that do
for the beautiful black masses of hair? Or pearls? She did not appear to
have much jewellery. Or rather--seeing that such things are possible
between husband and wife--would she not accept the value, and far more
than the value, of any jewellery she could desire, to be given away in
acts of kindness? That would be more like Natalie.

He walked on, his heart full of an audacious joy; for now this was the
picture before him; a Buckinghamshire hill; a red and white house among
the beeches; and a spacious lawn looking out on the far and wooded
plain, with its villages, and spires, and tiny curls of smoke. And this
foreign young lady becom