and those
who did not do such things; and to be no longer quite sure to which
half she belonged was frightening. But what was the good of thinking, of
being frightened?--it could not lead to anything. Yesterday she had
not known this would come; and now she could not guess at to-morrow!
To-night was enough! To-night with its swimming loveliness! Just to
feel! To love, and to be loved!

A new sensation for her--as different from those excited by the
courtships of her girlhood, or by her marriage, as light from darkness.
For she had never been in love, not even with her husband. She knew
it now. The sun was shining in a world where she had thought there was
none. Nothing could come of it. But the sun was shining; and in that
sunshine she must warm herself a little.

Quite simply she began to plan what he and she would do. There were six
days left. They had not yet been to Gorbio, nor to Castellar--none of
those long walks or rides they had designed to do for the beauty of
them. Would he come early to-morrow? What could they do together? No one
should know what these six days would be to her--not even he. To be with
him, watch his face, hear his voice, and now and then just touch him!
She could trust herself to show no one. And then, it would be--over!
Though, of course, she would see him again in London.

And, lying there in the dark, she thought of their first meeting, one
Sunday morning, in Hyde Park. The Colonel religiously observed Church
Parade, and would even come all the way down to Westminster, from his
flat near Knightsbridge, in order to fetch his niece up to it. She
remembered how, during their stroll, he had stopped suddenly in front of
an old gentleman with a puffy yellow face and eyes half open.

"Ah! Mr. Heatherley--you up from Devonshire? How's your
nephew--the--er--sculptor?"

And the old gentleman, glaring a little, as it seemed to her, from
under his eyelids and his grey top hat, had answered: "Colonel Ercott,
I think? Here's the fellow himself--Mark!" And a young man had taken
off his hat. She had only noticed at first that his dark hair grew--not
long--but very thick; and that his eyes were very deep-set. Then she saw
him smile; it made his face all eager, yet left it shy; and she decided
that he was nice. Soon after, she had gone with the Ercotts to see his
'things'; for it was, of course, and especially in those days, quite an
event to know a sculptor--rather like having a zebra in your park.