es and
tendrils, where the jessamine twined round its pillars.

This kept recurring, recurring, vividly, a picture that he could see
without closing his eyes, a picture with a very decided sentiment.
Like the gay and gleaming many-pinnacled facade of her house, it seemed
appropriate to her; it seemed in its fashion to express her. Nay, it
seemed to do more. It was a corner of her every-day environment; these
things were the companions, the witnesses, of moments of her life,
phases of herself, which were hidden from Peter; they were the
companions and witnesses of her solitude, her privacy; they were her
confidants, in a way. They seemed not merely to express her, therefore,
but to be continually on the point--I had almost said of betraying her.
At all events, if he could only understand their silent language,
they would prove rich in precious revelations. So he welcomed their
recurrences, dwelt upon them, pondered them, and got a deep if somewhat
inarticulate pleasure from them.

On Thursday, as he approached the castle, the last fires of sunset were
burning in the sky behind it--the long irregular mass of buildings stood
out in varying shades of blue, against varying, dying shades of red: the
grey stone, dark, velvety indigo; the pink stucco, pink still, but
with a transparent blue penumbra over it; the white marble, palely,
scintillantly amethystine. And if he was interested in her environment,
now he could study it to his heart's content: the wide marble staircase,
up which he was shown, with its crimson carpet, and the big mellow
painting, that looked as if it might be a Titian, at the top; the great
saloon, in which he was received, with its polished mosaic floor,
its frescoed ceiling, its white-and-gold panelling, its hangings and
upholsteries of yellow brocade, its satinwood chairs and tables, its
bronzes, porcelains, embroideries, its screens and mirrors; the long
dining-hall, with its high pointed windows, its slender marble columns
supporting a vaulted roof, its twinkling candles in chandeliers and
sconces of cloudy Venetian glass, its brilliant table, its flowers and
their colours and their scents.

He could study her environment to his heart's content, indeed--or to
his heart's despair. For all this had rather the effect of chilling,
of depressing him. It was very splendid; it was very luxurious and
cheerful; it was appropriate and personal to her, if you like; no doubt,
in its fashion, in its measure, it