第1章

EPILOGUE

ProfessorWilsonhadbeenlivinginLondonforsixyearsandhewasjustbackfromavisittoAmerica。Oneafternoon，soonafterhisreturn，heputonhisfrock—coatanddroveinahansomtopayacalluponHildaBurgoyne，whostilllivedatheroldnumber，offBedfordSquare。HeandMissBurgoynehadbeenfastfriendsforalongtime。HehadfirstnoticedheraboutthecorridorsoftheBritishMuseum，wherehereadconstantly。Herbeingtheresooftenhadmadehimfeelthathewouldliketoknowher，andasshewasnotaninaccessibleperson，anintroductionwasnotdifficult。Thepreliminariesonceover，theycametodependagreatdealuponeachother，andWilson，afterhisday’sreading，oftenwentroundtoBedfordSquareforhistea。Theyhadmuchmoreincommonthantheirmemoriesofacommonfriend。Indeed，theyseldomspokeofhim。Theysavedthatforthedeepmomentswhichdonotcomeoften，andthentheirtalkofhimwasmostlysilence。WilsonknewthatHildahadlovedhim；morethanthishehadnottriedtoknow。

ItwaslatewhenWilsonreachedHilda’sapartmentonthisparticularDecemberafternoon，andhefoundheralone。Shesentforfreshteaandmadehimcomfortable，asshehadsuchaknackofmakingpeoplecomfortable。

"HowgoodyouweretocomebackbeforeChristmas!IquitedreadedtheHolidayswithoutyou。You’vehelpedmeoveragoodmanyChristmases。"Shesmiledathimgayly。

"Asifyouneededmeforthat!But，atanyrate，IneededYOU。Howwellyouarelooking，mydear，andhowrested。"

Hepeeredupatherfromhislowchair，balancingthetipsofhislongfingerstogetherinajudicialmannerwhichhadgrownonhimwithyears。

Hildalaughedasshecarefullypouredhiscream。"ThatmeansthatIwaslookingveryseedyattheendoftheseason，doesn’tit？

Well，wemustshowwearatlast，youknow。"

Wilsontookthecupgratefully。"Ah，noneedtoremindamanofseventy，whohasjustbeenhometofindthathehassurvivedallhiscontemporaries。Iwasmostgentlytreated——asasortofpreciousrelic。But，doyouknow，itmademefeelawkwardtobehangingaboutstill。"

"Seventy？Nevermentionittome。"HildalookedappreciativelyattheProfessor’salertface，withsomanykindlylinesaboutthemouthandsomanyquizzicalonesabouttheeyes。

"You’vegottohangaboutforme，youknow。

Ican’tevenletyougohomeagain。

Youmuststayput，nowthatIhaveyouback。

You’retherealestthingIhave。"

Wilsonchuckled。"Dearme，amI？Outofsomanyconquestsandthespoilsofconqueredcities!You’vereallymissedme？

Well，then，Ishallhang。EvenifyouhaveatlasttoputMEinthemummy—roomwiththeothers。

You’llvisitmeoften，won’tyou？"

"Everydayinthecalendar。Here，yourcigarettesareinthisdrawer，whereyouleftthem。"

Shestruckamatchandlitoneforhim。

"Butyoudid，afterall，enjoybeingathomeagain？"

"Oh，yes。Ifoundthelongrailwayjourneystrying。Peopleliveathousandmilesapart。

ButIdiditthoroughly；Iwasallovertheplace。

ItwasinBostonIlingeredlongest。"

"Ah，yousawMrs。Alexander？"

"Often。Idinedwithher，andhadteathereadozendifferenttimes，Ishouldthink。

Indeed，itwastoseeherthatIlingeredonandon。IfoundthatIstilllovedtogotothehouse。ItalwaysseemedasifBartleywerethere，somehow，andthatatanymomentonemighthearhisheavytramponthestairs。Doyouknow，Ikeptfeelingthathemustbeupinhisstudy。"TheProfessorlookedreflectivelyintothegrate。"Ishouldreallyhavelikedtogoupthere。ThatwaswhereIhadmylastlongtalkwithhim。ButMrs。Alexanderneversuggestedit。"

"Why？"

Wilsonwasalittlestartledbyhertone，andheturnedhisheadsoquicklythathiscuff—linkcaughtthestringofhisnose—glassesandpulledthemawry。"Why？Why，dearme，Idon’tknow。Sheprobablyneverthoughtofit。"

Hildabitherlip。"Idon’tknowwhatmademesaythat。Ididn’tmeantointerrupt。

Goonplease，andtellmehowitwas。"

"Well，itwaslikethat。Almostasifhewerethere。Inaway，hereallyisthere。

Sheneverletshimgo。It’sthemostbeautifulanddignifiedsorrowI’veeverknown。It’ssobeautifulthatithasitscompensations，Ishouldthink。Itsverycompletenessisacompensation。Itgivesherafixedstartosteerby。Shedoesn’tdrift。Wesatthereeveningaftereveninginthequietofthatmagicallyhauntedroom，andwatchedthesunsetburnontheriver，andfelthim。

Felthimwithadifference，ofcourse。"

Hildaleanedforward，herelbowonherknee，herchinonherhand。"Withadifference？

Becauseofher，youmean？"

Wilson’sbrowwrinkled。"Somethinglikethat，yes。

Ofcourse，astimegoeson，toherhebecomesmoreandmoretheirsimplepersonalrelation。"

HildastudiedthedroopoftheProfessor’sheadintently。"Youdidn’taltogetherlikethat？Youfeltitwasn’twhollyfairtohim？"

Wilsonshookhimselfandreadjustedhisglasses。"Oh，fairenough。Morethanfair。

Ofcourse，Ialwaysfeltthatmyimageofhimwasjustalittledifferentfromhers。

Norelationissocompletethatitcanholdabsolutelyallofaperson。AndIlikedhimjustashewas；hisdeviations，too；

theplaceswherehedidn’tsquare。"

Hildaconsideredvaguely。"Hasshegrownmucholder？"sheaskedatlast。

"Yes，andno。Inatragicwaysheisevenhandsomer。Butcolder。Coldforeverythingbuthim。`Forgetthyselftomarble’；Ikeptthinkingofthat。Herhappinesswasahappinessadeux，notapartfromtheworld，butactuallyagainstit。Andnowhergriefislikethat。Shesavesherselfforitanddoesn’tevengothroughtheformofseeingpeoplemuch。

I’msorry。Itwouldbebetterforher，andmightbesogoodforthem，ifshecouldletotherpeoplein。"

"Perhapsshe’safraidoflettinghimoutalittle，ofsharinghimwithsomebody。"

Wilsonputdownhiscupandlookedupwithvaguealarm。"Dearme，ittakesawomantothinkofthat，now!Idon’t，youknow，thinkweoughttobehardonher。More，even，thantherestofusshedidn’tchooseherdestiny。Sheunderwentit。Andithasleftherchilled。Astohernotwishingtotaketheworldintoherconfidence——well，itisaprettybrutalandstupidworld，afterall，youknow。"

Hildaleanedforward。"Yes，Iknow，Iknow。

OnlyIcan’thelpbeinggladthattherewassomethingforhimeveninstupidandvulgarpeople。

MylittleMarieworshipedhim。WhensheisdustingIalwaysknowwhenshehascometohispicture。"

Wilsonnodded。"Oh，yes!Heleftanecho。

Theripplesgooninallofus。

Hebelongedtothepeoplewhomaketheplay，andmostofusareonlyonlookersatthebest。

Weshouldn’twondertoomuchatMrs。Alexander。

Shemustfeelhowuselessitwouldbetostirabout，thatshemayaswellsitstill；

thatnothingcanhappentoherafterBartley。"

"Yes，"saidHildasoftly，"nothingcanhappentooneafterBartley。"

Theybothsatlookingintothefire。

TheEnd Alexander’sBridge byWillaCatherCHAPTERI

LateonebrilliantAprilafternoonProfessorLuciusWilsonstoodattheheadofChestnutStreet，lookingabouthimwiththepleasedairofamanoftastewhodoesnotveryoftengettoBoston。

Hehadlivedthereasastudent，butfortwentyyearsandmore，sincehehadbeenProfessorofPhilosophyinaWesternuniversity，hehadseldomcomeEastexcepttotakeasteamerforsomeforeignport。

Wilsonwasstandingquitestill，contemplatingwithawhimsicalsmiletheslantingstreet，withitswornpaving，itsirregular，gravelycoloredhouses，andtherowofnakedtreesonwhichthethinsunlightwasstillshining。

Thegleamoftheriveratthefootofthehillmadehimblinkalittle，notsomuchbecauseitwastoobrightasbecausehefounditsopleasant。

Thefewpassers—byglancedathimunconcernedly，andeventhechildrenwhohurriedalongwiththeirschool—bagsundertheirarmsseemedtofinditperfectlynaturalthatatallbrowngentlemanshouldbestandingthere，lookingupthroughhisglassesatthegrayhousetops。

Thesunsankrapidly；thesilverylighthadfadedfromthebareboughsandthewaterytwilightwassettinginwhenWilsonatlastwalkeddownthehill，descendingintocoolerandcoolerdepthsofgrayishshadow。

Hisnostril，longunusedtoit，wasquicktodetectthesmellofwoodsmokeintheair，blendedwiththeodorofmoistspringearthandthesaltinessthatcameuptheriverwiththetide。HecrossedCharlesStreetbetweenjanglingstreetcarsandshelvinglumberdrays，andafteramomentofuncertaintywoundintoBrimmerStreet。Thestreetwasquiet，deserted，andhungwithathinbluishhaze。Hehadalreadyfixedhissharpeyeuponthehousewhichhereasonedshouldbehisobjectivepoint，whenhenoticedawomanapproachingrapidlyfromtheoppositedirection。

Alwaysaninterestedobserverofwomen，Wilsonwouldhaveslackenedhispaceanywheretofollowthisonewithhisimpersonal，appreciativeglance。Shewasapersonofdistinctionhesawatonce，and，moreover，veryhandsome。Shewastall，carriedherbeautifulheadproudly，andmovedwitheaseandcertainty。Oneimmediatelytookforgrantedthecostlyprivilegesandfinespacesthatmustlieinthebackgroundfromwhichsuchafigurecouldemergewiththisrapidandelegantgait。Wilsonnotedherdress，too，——for，inhisway，hehadaneyeforsuchthings，——particularlyherbrownfursandherhat。Hegotablurredimpressionofherfinecolor，thevioletsshewore，herwhitegloves，and，curiouslyenough，ofherveil，assheturnedupaflightofstepsinfrontofhimanddisappeared。

Wilsonwasabletoenjoylovelythingsthatpassedhimonthewingascompletelyanddeliberatelyasiftheyhadbeendug—upmarvels，longanticipated，anddefinitelyfixedattheendofarailwayjourney。Forafewpleasurablesecondshequiteforgotwherehewasgoing，andonlyafterthedoorhadclosedbehindherdidherealizethattheyoungwomanhadenteredthehousetowhichhehaddirectedhistrunkfromtheSouthStationthatmorning。Hehesitatedamomentbeforemountingthesteps。"Canthat，"hemurmuredinamazement，——"canthatpossiblyhavebeenMrs。Alexander？"

Whentheservantadmittedhim，Mrs。Alexanderwasstillstandinginthehallway。

Sheheardhimgivehisname，andcameforwardholdingoutherhand。

"Isityou，indeed，ProfessorWilson？I

wasafraidthatyoumightgetherebeforeI

did。Iwasdetainedataconcert，andBartleytelephonedthathewouldbelate。Thomaswillshowyouyourroom。Hadyouratherhaveyourteabroughttoyouthere，orwillyouhaveitdownherewithme，whilewewaitforBartley？"

Wilsonwaspleasedtofindthathehadbeenthecauseofherrapidwalk，andwithherhewasevenmorevastlypleasedthanbefore。

Hefollowedherthroughthedrawing—roomintothelibrary，wherethewidebackwindowslookedoutuponthegardenandthesunsetandafinestretchofsilver—coloredriver。

Aharp—shapedelmstoodstrippedagainstthepale—coloredeveningsky，withraggedlastyear’sbirds’nestsinitsforks，andthroughthebarebranchestheeveningstarquiveredinthemistyair。Thelongbrownroombreathedthepeaceofarichandamplyguardedquiet。Teawasbroughtinimmediatelyandplacedinfrontofthewoodfire。

Mrs。Alexandersatdowninahigh—backedchairandbegantopourit，whileWilsonsankintoalowseatoppositeherandtookhiscupwithagreatsenseofeaseandharmonyandcomfort。

"Youhavehadalongjourney，haven’tyou？"

Mrs。Alexanderasked，aftershowinggraciousconcernabouthistea。"AndIamsosorryBartleyislate。He’softentiredwhenhe’slate。

HeflattershimselfthatitisalittleonhisaccountthatyouhavecometothisCongressofPsychologists。"

"Itis，"Wilsonassented，selectinghismuffincarefully；"andIhopehewon’tbetiredtonight。But，onmyownaccount，I’mgladtohaveafewmomentsalonewithyou，beforeBartleycomes。Iwassomehowafraidthatmyknowinghimsowellwouldnotputmeinthewayofgettingtoknowyou。"

"That’sveryniceofyou。"Shenoddedathimabovehercupandsmiled，buttherewasalittleformaltightnessinhertonewhichhadnotbeentherewhenshegreetedhiminthehall。

Wilsonleanedforward。"HaveIsaidsomethingawkward？

Iliveveryfaroutoftheworld，youknow。

ButIdidn’tmeanthatyouwouldexactlyfadedim，evenifBartleywerehere。"

Mrs。Alexanderlaughedrelentingly。

"Oh，I’mnotsovain!Howterriblydiscerningyouare。"

ShelookedstraightatWilson，andhefeltthatthisquick，frankglancebroughtaboutanunderstandingbetweenthem。

Helikedeverythingabouther，hetoldhimself，butheparticularlylikedhereyes；

whenshelookedatonedirectlyforamomenttheywerelikeaglimpseoffinewindyskythatmaybringallsortsofweather。

"Sinceyounoticedsomething，"Mrs。Alexanderwenton，"itmusthavebeenaflashofthedistrustIhavecometofeelwheneverImeetanyofthepeoplewhoknewBartleywhenhewasaboy。ItisalwaysasiftheyweretalkingofsomeoneIhadnevermet。

Really，ProfessorWilson，itwouldseemthathegrewupamongthestrangestpeople。

Theyusuallysaythathehasturnedoutverywell，orremarkthathealwayswasafinefellow。

Ineverknowwhatreplytomake。"

Wilsonchuckledandleanedbackinhischair，shakinghisleftfootgently。"Iexpectthefactisthatwenoneofusknewhimverywell，Mrs。Alexander。ThoughIwillsayformyselfthatIwasalwaysconfidenthe’ddosomethingextraordinary。"

Mrs。Alexander’sshouldersgaveaslightmovement，suggestiveofimpatience。

"Oh，Ishouldthinkthatmighthavebeenasafeprediction。Anothercup，please？"

"Yes，thankyou。Butpredicting，inthecaseofboys，isnotsoeasyasyoumightimagine，Mrs。Alexander。Somegetabadhurtearlyandlosetheircourage；andsomenevergetafairwind。Bartley"——hedroppedhischinonthebackofhislonghandandlookedatheradmiringly——"Bartleycaughtthewindearly，andithassunginhissailseversince。"

Mrs。Alexandersatlookingintothefirewithintentpreoccupation，andWilsonstudiedherhalf—avertedface。Helikedthesuggestionofstormypossibilitiesintheproudcurveofherlipandnostril。Withoutthat，hereflected，shewouldbetoocold。

"Ishouldliketoknowwhathewasreallylikewhenhewasaboy。Idon’tbelieveheremembers，"shesaidsuddenly。

"Won’tyousmoke，Mr。Wilson？"

Wilsonlitacigarette。"No，Idon’tsupposehedoes。Hewasneverintrospective。HewassimplythemosttremendousresponsetostimuliIhaveeverknown。Wedidn’tknowexactlywhattodowithhim。"

Aservantcameinandnoiselesslyremovedthetea—tray。Mrs。Alexanderscreenedherfacefromthefirelight，whichwasbeginningtothrowwaveringbrightspotsonherdressandhairastheduskdeepened。

"Ofcourse，"shesaid，"Inowandagainhearstoriesaboutthingsthathappenedwhenhewasincollege。"

"Butthatisn’twhatyouwant。"Wilsonwrinkledhisbrowsandlookedatherwiththesmilingfamiliaritythathadcomeaboutsoquickly。

"Whatyouwantisapictureofhim，standingbackthereattheotherendoftwentyyears。

Youwanttolookdownthroughmymemory。"

Shedroppedherhandsinherlap。"Yes，yes；

that’sexactlywhatIwant。"

Atthismomenttheyheardthefrontdoorshutwithajar，andWilsonlaughedasMrs。Alexanderrosequickly。"Thereheis。

Awaywithperspective!Nopast，nofutureforBartley；justthefierymoment。Theonlymomentthateverwasorwillbeintheworld!"

Thedoorfromthehallopened，avoicecalled"Winifred？"hurriedly，andabigmancamethroughthedrawing—roomwithaquick，heavytread，bringingwithhimasmellofcigarsmokeandchillout—of—doorsair。

WhenAlexanderreachedthelibrarydoor，heswitchedonthelightsandstoodsixfeetandmoreinthearchway，glowingwithstrengthandcordialityandrugged，blondgoodlooks。

Therewereotherbridge—buildersintheworld，certainly，butitwasalwaysAlexander’spicturethattheSundaySupplementmenwanted，becausehelookedasatamerofriversoughttolook。Underhistumbledsandyhairhisheadseemedashardandpowerfulasacatapult，andhisshoulderslookedstrongenoughinthemselvestosupportaspanofanyoneofhistengreatbridgesthatcuttheairaboveasmanyrivers。

AfterdinnerAlexandertookWilsonuptohisstudy。Itwasalargeroomoverthelibrary，andlookedoutupontheblackriverandtherowofwhitelightsalongtheCambridgeEmbankment。Theroomwasnotatallwhatonemightexpectofanengineer’sstudy。

Wilsonfeltatoncetheharmonyofbeautifulthingsthathavelivedlongtogetherwithoutobtrusionsofuglinessorchange。ItwasnoneofAlexander’sdoing，ofcourse；thosewarmconsonancesofcolorhadbeenblendingandmellowingbeforehewasborn。Butthewonderwasthathewasnotoutofplacethere，——

thatitallseemedtoglowliketheinevitablebackgroundforhisvigorandvehemence。Hesatbeforethefire，hisshouldersdeepinthecushionsofhischair，hispowerfulheadupright，hishairrumpledabovehisbroadforehead。

Hesatheavily，acigarinhislarge，smoothhand，aflushofafter—dinnercolorinhisface，whichwindandsunandexposuretoallsortsofweatherhadleftfairandclearskinned。

"YouareoffforEnglandonSaturday，Bartley，Mrs。Alexandertellsme。"

"Yes，forafewweeksonly。There’sameetingofBritishengineers，andI’mdoinganotherbridgeinCanada，youknow。"

"Oh，everyoneknowsaboutthat。AnditwasinCanadathatyoumetyourwife，wasn’tit？"

Yes，atAllway。Shewasvisitinghergreat—auntthere。Amostremarkableoldlady。

IwasworkingwithMacKellerthen，anoldScotchengineerwhohadpickedmeupinLondonandtakenmebacktoQuebecwithhim。

HehadthecontractfortheAllwayBridge，butbeforehebeganworkonithefoundoutthathewasgoingtodie，andheadvisedthecommitteetoturnthejobovertome。

OtherwiseI’dneverhavegotanythinggoodsoearly。MacKellerwasanoldfriendofMrs。Pemberton，Winifred’saunt。Hehadmentionedmetoher，sowhenIwenttoAllwaysheaskedmetocometoseeher。

Shewasawonderfuloldlady。"

"Likeherniece？"Wilsonqueried。

Bartleylaughed。"Shehadbeenveryhandsome，butnotinWinifred’sway。

WhenIknewhershewaslittleandfragile，verypinkandwhite，withasplendidheadandafacelikefineoldlace，somehow，——butperhapsIalwaysthinkofthatbecausesheworealacescarfonherhair。Shehadsuchaflavoroflifeabouther。ShehadknownGordonandLivingstoneandBeaconsfieldwhenshewasyoung，——everyone。ShewasthefirstwomanofthatsortI’deverknown。YouknowhowitisintheWest，——oldpeoplearepokedoutoftheway。AuntEleanorfascinatedmeasfewyoungwomenhaveeverdone。Iusedtogoupfromtheworkstohaveteawithher，andsittalkingtoherforhours。Itwasverystimulating，forshecouldn’ttoleratestupidity。"

"Itmusthavebeenthenthatyourluckbegan，Bartley，"saidWilson，flickinghiscigarashwithhislongfinger。"It’scurious，watchingboys，"hewentonreflectively。

"I’msureIdidyoujusticeinthematterofability。

YetIalwaysusedtofeelthattherewasaweakspotwheresomedaystrainwouldtell。

Evenafteryoubegantoclimb，Istooddowninthecrowdandwatchedyouwith——well，notwithconfidence。Themoredazzlingthefrontyoupresented，thehigheryourfacaderose，themoreIexpectedtoseeabigcrackzigzaggingfromtoptobottom，"——heindicateditscourseintheairwithhisforefinger，——

"thenacrashandcloudsofdust。Itwascurious。

Ihadsuchaclearpictureofit。Andanothercuriousthing，Bartley，"Wilsonspokewithdeliberatenessandsettleddeeperintohischair，"isthatIdon’tfeelitanylonger。

Iamsureofyou。"

Alexanderlaughed。"Nonsense!It’snotI

youfeelsureof；it’sWinifred。Peopleoftenmakethatmistake。"

"No，I’mserious，Alexander。You’vechanged。

Youhavedecidedtoleavesomebirdsinthebushes。

Youusedtowantthemall。"

Alexander’schaircreaked。"Istillwantagoodmany，"hesaidrathergloomily。"Afterall，lifedoesn’tofferamanmuch。Youworklikethedevilandthinkyou’regettingon，andsuddenlyyoudiscoverthatyou’veonlybeengettingyourselftiedup。Amilliondetailsdrinkyoudry。Yourlifekeepsgoingforthingsyoudon’twant，andallthewhileyouarebeingbuiltaliveintoasocialstructureyoudon’tcarearapabout。IsometimeswonderwhatsortofchapI’dhavebeenifI

hadn’tbeenthissort；Iwanttogoandliveouthispotentialities，too。Ihaven’tforgottenthattherearebirdsinthebushes。"

Bartleystoppedandsatfrowningintothefire，hisshouldersthrustforwardasifhewereabouttospringatsomething。Wilsonwatchedhim，wondering。Hisoldpupilalwaysstimulatedhimatfirst，andthenvastlyweariedhim。

Themachinerywasalwayspoundingawayinthisman，andWilsonpreferredcompanionsofamorereflectivehabitofmind。HecouldnothelpfeelingthattherewereunreasoningandunreasonableactivitiesgoingoninAlexanderallthewhile；

thatevenafterdinner，whenmostmenachieveadecentimpersonality，Bartleyhadmerelyclosedthedooroftheengine—roomandcomeupforanairing。Themachineryitselfwasstillpoundingon。

Bartley’sabstractionandWilson’sreflectionswerecutshortbyarustleatthedoor，andalmostbeforetheycouldriseMrs。

Alexanderwasstandingbythehearth。

Alexanderbroughtachairforher，butsheshookherhead。

"No，dear，thankyou。IonlycameintoseewhetheryouandProfessorWilsonwerequitecomfortable。Iamgoingdowntothemusic—room。"

"Whynotpracticehere？WilsonandIaregrowingverydull。Wearetiredoftalk。"

"Yes，Ibegyou，Mrs。Alexander，"

Wilsonbegan，buthegotnofurther。

"Why，certainly，ifyouwon’tfindmetoonoisy。IamworkingontheSchumann`Carnival，’and，thoughIdon’tpracticeagreatmanyhours，Iamverymethodical，"

Mrs。Alexanderexplained，asshecrossedtoanuprightpianothatstoodatthebackoftheroom，nearthewindows。

Wilsonfollowed，and，havingseenherseated，droppedintoachairbehindher。Sheplayedbrilliantlyandwithgreatmusicalfeeling。

Wilsoncouldnotimagineherpermittingherselftodoanythingbadly，buthewassurprisedatthecleannessofherexecution。

Hewonderedhowawomanwithsomanydutieshadmanagedtokeepherselfuptoastandardreallyprofessional。Itmusttakeagreatdealoftime，certainly，andBartleymusttakeagreatdealoftime。Wilsonreflectedthathehadneverbeforeknownawomanwhohadbeenable，foranyconsiderablewhile，tosupportbothapersonalandanintellectualpassion。Sittingbehindher，hewatchedherwithperplexedadmiration，shadinghiseyeswithhishand。Inherdinnerdressshelookedevenyoungerthaninstreetclothes，and，forallhercomposureandself—sufficiency，sheseemedtohimstrangelyalertandvibrating，asifinher，too，thereweresomethingneveraltogetheratrest。Hefeltthatheknewprettymuchwhatshedemandedinpeopleandwhatshedemandedfromlife，andhewonderedhowshesquaredBartley。Aftertenyearsshemustknowhim；

andhoweveronetookhim，howevermuchoneadmiredhim，onehadtoadmitthathesimplywouldn’tsquare。Hewasanaturalforce，certainly，butbeyondthat，Wilsonfelt，hewasnotanythingveryreallyorforverylongatatime。

Wilsonglancedtowardthefire，whereBartley’sprofilewasstillwreathedincigarsmokethatcurledupmoreandmoreslowly。

Hisshouldersweresunkdeepinthecushionsandonehandhunglargeandpassiveoverthearmofhischair。Hehadslippedonapurplevelvetsmoking—coat。Hiswife，Wilsonsurmised，hadchosenit。Shewasclearlyveryproudofhisgoodlooksandhisfinecolor。

But，withtheglowofanimmediateinterestgoneoutofit，theengineer’sfacelookedtired，evenalittlehaggard。Thethreelinesinhisforehead，directlyabovethenose，deepenedashesatthinking，andhispowerfulheaddroopedforwardheavily。AlthoughAlexanderwasonlyforty—three，Wilsonthoughtthatbeneathhisvigorouscolorhedetectedthedullingwearinessofon—comingmiddleage。

Thenextafternoon，atthehourwhentheriverwasbeginningtoreddenunderthedecliningsun，WilsonagainfoundhimselffacingMrs。Alexanderatthetea—tableinthelibrary。

"Well，"heremarked，whenhewasbiddentogiveanaccountofhimself，"therewasalongmorningwiththepsychologists，luncheonwithBartleyathisclub，morepsychologists，andhereIam。

I’velookedforwardtothishourallday。"

Mrs。Alexandersmiledathimacrossthevaporfromthekettle。"Anddoyourememberwherewestoppedyesterday？"

"Perfectly。Iwasgoingtoshowyouapicture。ButIdoubtwhetherIhavecolorenoughinme。Bartleymakesmefeelafadedmonochrome。Youcan’tgetattheyoungBartleyexceptbymeansofcolor。"Wilsonpausedanddeliberated。Suddenlyhebrokeout："Hewasn’taremarkablestudent，youknow，thoughhewasalwaysstronginhighermathematics。Hisworkinmyowndepartmentwasquiteordinary。ItwasasapowerfullyequippednaturethatIfoundhiminteresting。

Thatisthemostinterestingthingateachercanfind。Ithasthefascinationofascientificdiscovery。Wecomeacrossotherpleasingandendearingqualitiessomuchoftenerthanwefindforce。"

"And，afterall，"saidMrs。Alexander，"thatisthethingweallliveupon。

Itisthethingthattakesusforward。"

Wilsonthoughtshespokealittlewistfully。

"Exactly，"heassentedwarmly。"Itbuildsthebridgesintothefuture，overwhichthefeetofeveryoneofuswillgo。"

"HowinterestedIamtohearyouputitinthatway。Thebridgesintothefuture——

Ioftensaythattomyself。Bartley’sbridgesalwaysseemtomelikethat。HaveyoueverseenhisfirstsuspensionbridgeinCanada，theonehewasdoingwhenIfirstknewhim？

Ihopeyouwillseeitsometime。Weweremarriedassoonasitwasfinished，andyouwilllaughwhenItellyouthatitalwayshasaratherbridallooktome。Itisoverthewildestriver，withmistsandcloudsalwaysbattlingaboutit，anditisasdelicateasacobwebhanginginthesky。Itreallywasabridgeintothefuture。Youhaveonlytolookatittofeelthatitmeantthebeginningofagreatcareer。

ButIhaveaphotographofithere。"Shedrewaportfoliofrombehindabookcase。"Andthere，yousee，onthehill，ismyaunt’shouse。"

Wilsontookupthephotograph。"Bartleywastellingmesomethingaboutyourauntlastnight。

Shemusthavebeenadelightfulperson。"

Winifredlaughed。"Thebridge，yousee，wasjustatthefootofthehill，andthenoiseoftheenginesannoyedherverymuchatfirst。

ButaftershemetBartleyshepretendedtolikeit，andsaiditwasagoodthingtoberemindedthattherewerethingsgoingonintheworld。Shelovedlife，andBartleybroughtagreatdealofitintoherwhenhecametothehouse。AuntEleanorwasveryworldlyinafrank，Early—Victorianmanner。

Shelikedmenofaction，anddislikedyoungmenwhowerecarefulofthemselvesandwho，assheputit，werealwaystrimmingtheirwickasiftheywereafraidoftheiroil’sgivingout。MacKeller，Bartley’sfirstchief，wasanoldfriendofmyaunt，andhetoldherthatBartleywasawild，ill—governedyouth，whichreallypleasedherverymuch。

IrememberweweresittingaloneintheduskafterBartleyhadbeenthereforthefirsttime。

IknewthatAuntEleanorhadfoundhimmuchtohertaste，butshehadn’tsaidanything。

Presentlyshecameout，withachuckle：

`MacKellerfoundhimsowingwildoatsinLondon，Ibelieve。Ihopehedidn’tstophimtoosoon。Lifecoquetswithdashingfellows。

Thecomingmenarealwayslikethat。

Wemusthavehimtodinner，mydear。’

Andwedid。ShegrewmuchfonderofBartleythanshewasofme。IhadbeenstudyinginVienna，andshethoughtthatabsurd。

Shewasinterestedinthearmyandinpolitics，andshehadagreatcontemptformusicandartandphilosophy。SheusedtodeclarethatthePrinceConsorthadbroughtallthatstuffoveroutofGermany。ShealwayssniffedwhenBartleyaskedmetoplayforhim。Sheconsideredthatanewfangledwayofmakingamatchofit。"

WhenAlexandercameinafewmomentslater，hefoundWilsonandhiswifestillconfrontingthephotograph。"Oh，letusgetthatoutoftheway，"hesaid，laughing。

"Winifred，Thomascanbringmytrunkdown。

I’vedecidedtogoovertoNewYorkto—morrownightandtakeafastboat。

Ishallsavetwodays。"

CHAPTERII

OnthenightofhisarrivalinLondon，AlexanderwentimmediatelytothehotelontheEmbankmentatwhichhealwaysstopped，andinthelobbyhewasaccostedbyanoldacquaintance，MauriceMainhall，whofelluponhimwitheffusivecordialityandindicatedawillingnesstodinewithhim。

Bartleyneverdinedaloneifhecouldhelpit，andMainhallwasagoodgossipwhoalwaysknewwhathadbeengoingonintown；especially，hekneweverythingthatwasnotprintedinthenewspapers。ThenephewofoneofthestandardVictoriannovelists，MainhallbobbedaboutamongthevariousliterarycliquesofLondonanditsoutlyingsuburbs，carefultolosetouchwithnoneofthem。Hehadwrittenanumberofbookshimself；amongthema"HistoryofDancing，"a"HistoryofCostume，"

a"KeytoShakespeare’sSonnets，"astudyof"ThePoetryofErnestDowson，"etc。

AlthoughMainhall’senthusiasmwasoftentiresome，andalthoughhewasoftenunabletodistinguishbetweenfactsandvividfigmentsofhisimagination，hisimperturbablegoodnatureovercameeventhepeoplewhomheboredmost，sothattheyendedbybecoming，inareluctantmanner，hisfriends。

Inappearance，Mainhallwasastonishinglyliketheconventionalstage—EnglishmanofAmericandrama：tallandthin，withhigh，hitchingshouldersandasmallheadglisteningwithcloselybrushedyellowhair。HespokewithanextremeOxfordaccent，andwhenhewastalkingwell，hisfacesometimesworetheraptexpressionofaveryemotionalmanlisteningtomusic。MainhalllikedAlexanderbecausehewasanengineer。Hehadpreconceivedideasabouteverything，andhisideaaboutAmericanswasthattheyshouldbeengineersormechanics。Hehatedthemwhentheypresumedtobeanythingelse。

WhiletheysatatdinnerMainhallacquaintedBartleywiththefortunesofhisoldfriendsinLondon，andastheyleftthetableheproposedthattheyshouldgotoseeHughMacConnell’snewcomedy，"BogLights。"

"It’sreallyquitethebestthingMacConnell’sdone，"

heexplainedastheygotintoahansom。

"It’stremendouslywellputon，too。

FlorenceMerrillandCyrilHenderson。

ButHildaBurgoyne’sthehitofthepiece。

Hugh’swrittenadelightfulpartforher，andshe’squiteinexpressible。It’sbeenononlytwoweeks，andI’vebeenhalfadozentimesalready。IhappentohaveMacConnell’sboxfortonightorthere’dbenochanceofourgettingplaces。There’severythinginseeingHildawhileshe’sfreshinapart。She’sapttogrowabitstaleafteratime。Theoneswhohaveanyimaginationdo。"

"HildaBurgoyne!"Alexanderexclaimedmildly。

"Why，Ihaven’theardofherfor——years。"

Mainhalllaughed。"Thenyoucan’thaveheardmuchatall，mydearAlexander。

It’sonlylately，sinceMacConnellandhissethavegotholdofher，thatshe’scomeup。

Myself，Ialwaysknewshehaditinher。

IfwehadonerealcriticinLondon——butwhatcanoneexpect？Doyouknow，Alexander，"——

Mainhalllookedwithperplexityupintothetopofthehansomandrubbedhispinkcheekwithhisglovedfinger，——"doyouknow，Isometimesthinkoftakingtocriticismseriouslymyself。

Inaway，itwouldbeasacrifice；

but，dearme，wedoneedsomeone。"

JustthentheydroveuptotheDukeofYork’s，soAlexanderdidnotcommithimself，butfollowedMainhallintothetheatre。

Whentheyenteredthestage—boxontheleftthefirstactwaswellunderway，thescenebeingtheinteriorofacabininthesouthofIreland。

Astheysatdown，aburstofapplausedrewAlexander’sattentiontothestage。MissBurgoyneandherdonkeywerethrustingtheirheadsinatthehalfdoor。"Afterall，"

hereflected，"there’ssmallprobabilityofherrecognizingme。Shedoubtlesshasn’tthoughtofmeforyears。"Hefelttheenthusiasmofthehouseatonce，andinafewmomentshewascaughtupbythecurrentofMacConnell’sirresistiblecomedy。Theaudiencehadcomeforewarned，evidently，andwhenevertheraggedslipofadonkey—girlranuponthestagetherewasadeepmurmurofapprobation，everyonesmiledandglowed，andMainhallhitchedhisheavychairalittlenearerthebrassrailing。

"Yousee，"hemurmuredinAlexander’sear，asthecurtainfellonthefirstact，"onealmostneverseesapartlikethatdonewithoutsmartnessormawkishness。Ofcourse，HildaisIrish，——theBurgoyneshavebeenstagepeopleforgenerations，——andshehastheIrishvoice。It’sdelightfultohearitinaLondontheatre。Thatlaugh，now，whenshedoublesoveratthehips——whoeverhearditoutofGalway？Shesavesherhand，too。

She’satherbestinthesecondact。She’sreallyMacConnell’spoeticmotif，yousee；

makesthewholethingafairytale。"

ThesecondactopenedbeforePhillyDoyle’sundergroundstill，withPeggyandherbattereddonkeycomeintosmugglealoadofpotheenacrossthebog，andtobringPhillywordofwhatwasdoingintheworldwithout，andofwhatwashappeningalongtheroadsidesandditcheswiththefirstgleamoffineweather。Alexander，annoyedbyMainhall’ssighsandexclamations，watchedherwithkeen，half—skepticalinterest。AsMainhallhadsaid，shewasthesecondact；

theplotandfeelingalikedependeduponherlightnessoffoot，herlightnessoftouch，upontheshrewdnessanddeftfancifulnessthatplayedalternately，andsometimestogether，inhermirthfulbrowneyes。Whenshebegantodance，bywayofshowingthegossoonswhatshehadseeninthefairyringsatnight，thehousebrokeintoaprolongeduproar。

AfterherdanceshewithdrewfromthedialogueandretreatedtotheditchwallbackofPhilly’sburrow，whereshesatsinging"TheRisingoftheMoon"

andmakingawreathofprimrosesforherdonkey。

WhentheactwasoverAlexanderandMainhallstrolledoutintothecorridor。Theymetagoodmanyacquaintances；Mainhall，indeed，knewalmosteveryone，andhebabbledonincontinently，screwinghissmallheadaboutoverhishighcollar。

Presentlyhehailedatall，beardedman，grim—browedandratherbattered—looking，whohadhisoperacloakonhisarmandhishatinhishand，andwhoseemedtobeonthepointofleavingthetheatre。

"MacConnell，letmeintroduceMr。BartleyAlexander。Isay!It’sgoingfamouslyto—night，Mac。Andwhatanaudience!

You’llneverdoanythinglikethisagain，markme。

Amanwritestothetopofhisbentonlyonce。"

TheplaywrightgaveMainhallacuriouslookoutofhisdeep—setfadedeyesandmadeawryface。"AndhaveIdoneanythingsofoolasthat，now？"heasked。

"That’swhatIwassaying，"Mainhallloungedalittleneareranddroppedintoatoneevenmoreconspicuouslyconfidential。

"Andyou’llneverbringHildaoutlikethisagain。Dearme，Mac，thegirlcouldn’tpossiblybebetter，youknow。"

MacConnellgrunted。"She’lldowellenoughifshekeepsherpaceanddoesn’tgooffonusinthemiddleoftheseason，asshe’smorethanliketodo。"

Henoddedcurtlyandmadeforthedoor，dodgingacquaintancesashewent。

"PooroldHugh，"Mainhallmurmured。

"He’shitterriblyhard。He’sbeenwantingtomarryHildathesethreeyearsandmore。

Shedoesn’ttakeupwithanybody，youknow。

IreneBurgoyne，oneofherfamily，toldmeinconfidencethattherewasaromancesomewherebackinthebeginning。Oneofyourcountrymen，Alexander，bytheway；anAmericanstudentwhomshemetinParis，Ibelieve。Idaresayit’squitetruethatthere’sneverbeenanyoneelse。"

MainhallvouchedforherconstancywithaloftinessthatmadeAlexandersmile，evenwhileakindofrapidexcitementwastinglingthroughhim。

Blinkingupatthelights，Mainhalladdedinhisluxurious，worldlyway："She’sanelegantlittleperson，andquitecapableofanextravagantbitofsentimentlikethat。HerecomesSirHarryTowne。He’sanotherwho’sawfullykeenabouther。Letmeintroduceyou。

SirHarryTowne，Mr。BartleyAlexander，theAmericanengineer。"

SirHarryTownebowedandsaidthathehadmetMr。AlexanderandhiswifeinTokyo。

Mainhallcutinimpatiently。

"Isay，SirHarry，thelittlegirl’sgoingfamouslyto—night，isn’tshe？"

SirHarrywrinkledhisbrowsjudiciously。

"Doyouknow，Ithoughtthedanceabitconsciousto—night，forthefirsttime。Thefactis，she’sfeelingratherseedy，poorchild。

WestmereandIwerebackafterthefirstact，andwethoughtsheseemedquiteuncertainofherself。Alittleattackofnerves，possibly。"

Hebowedasthewarningbellrang，andMainhallwhispered："YouknowLordWestmere，ofcourse，——thestoopedmanwiththelonggraymustache，talkingtoLadyDowle。

LadyWestmereisveryfondofHilda。"

Whentheyreachedtheirboxthehousewasdarkenedandtheorchestrawasplaying"TheCloakofOldGaul。"InamomentPeggywasonthestageagain，andAlexanderapplaudedvigorouslywiththerest。Heevenleanedforwardovertherailalittle。Forsomereasonhefeltpleasedandflatteredbytheenthusiasmoftheaudience。Inthehalf—lighthelookedaboutatthestallsandboxesandsmiledalittleconsciously，recallingwithamusementSirHarry’sjudicialfrown。

Hewasbeginningtofeelakeeninterestintheslender，barefootdonkey—girlwhoslippedinandoutoftheplay，singing，likesomeonewindingthroughahillyfield。HeleanedforwardandbeamedfelicitationsaswarmlyasMainhallhimselfwhen，attheendoftheplay，shecameagainandagainbeforethecurtain，pantingalittleandflushed，hereyesdancingandhereager，nervouslittlemouthtremulouswithexcitement。

WhenAlexanderreturnedtohishotel——

heshookMainhallatthedoorofthetheatre——

hehadsomesupperbroughtuptohisroom，anditwaslatebeforehewenttobed。

HehadnotthoughtofHildaBurgoyneforyears；indeed，hehadalmostforgottenher。

HehadlastwrittentoherfromCanada，afterhefirstmetWinifred，tellingherthateverythingwaschangedwithhim——thathehadmetawomanwhomhewouldmarryifhecould；

ifhecouldnot，thenallthemorewaseverythingchangedforhim。Hildahadneverrepliedtohisletter。Hefeltguiltyandunhappyaboutherforatime，butafterWinifredpromisedtomarryhimhereallyforgotHildaaltogether。Whenhewroteherthateverythingwaschangedforhim，hewastellingthetruth。AfterhemetWinifredPembertonheseemedtohimselflikeadifferentman。

OnenightwhenheandWinifredweresittingtogetheronthebridge，hetoldherthatthingshadhappenedwhilehewasstudyingabroadthathewassorryfor，——onethinginparticular，——andheaskedherwhethershethoughtsheoughttoknowaboutthem。

Sheconsideredamomentandthensaid"No，Ithinknot，thoughIamgladyouaskme。

Yousee，onecan’tbejealousaboutthingsingeneral；butaboutparticular，definite，personalthings，"——hereshehadthrownherhandsuptohisshoulderswithaquick，impulsivegesture——"oh，aboutthoseIshouldbeveryjealous。Ishouldtorturemyself——Icouldn’thelpit。"Afterthatitwaseasytoforget，actuallytoforget。Hewonderedto—night，ashepouredhiswine，howmanytimeshehadthoughtofHildainthelasttenyears。

HehadbeeninLondonmoreorless，buthehadneverhappenedtohearofher。

"Allthesame，"heliftedhisglass，"here’stoyou，littleHilda。You’vemadethingscomeyourway，andIneverthoughtyou’ddoit。

"Ofcourse，"hereflected，"shealwayshadthatcombinationofsomethinghomelyandsensible，andsomethingutterlywildanddaft。

ButIneverthoughtshe’ddoanything。

Shehadn’tmuchambitionthen，andshewastoofondoftrifles。Shemustcareaboutthetheatreagreatdealmorethansheusedto。

Perhapsshehasmetothankforsomething，afterall。Sometimesalittlejoltlikethatdoesonegood。Shewasadaft，generouslittlething。I’mgladshe’sheldherownsince。

Afterall，wewereawfullyyoung。Itwasyouthandpovertyandproximity，andeverythingwasyoungandkindly。Ishouldn’twonderifshecouldlaughaboutitwithmenow。

Ishouldn’twonder——Butthey’veprobablyspoiledher，sothatshe’dbetiresomeifonemetheragain。"

Bartleysmiledandyawnedandwenttobed。

CHAPTERIII

ThenexteveningAlexanderdinedaloneataclub，andataboutnineo’clockhedroppedinattheDukeofYork’s。Thehousewassoldoutandhestoodthroughthesecondact。

Whenhereturnedtohishotelheexaminedthenewdirectory，andfoundMissBurgoyne’saddressstillgivenasoffBedfordSquare，thoughatanewnumber。Herememberedthat，insofarasshehadbeenbroughtupatall，shehadbeenbroughtupinBloomsbury。

Herfatherandmotherplayedintheprovincesmostoftheyear，andshewasleftagreatdealinthecareofanoldauntwhowascrippledbyrheumatismandwhohadhadtoleavethestagealtogether。InthedayswhenAlexanderknewher，HildaalwaysmanagedtohavealodgingofsomesortaboutBedfordSquare，becausesheclungtenaciouslytosuchscrapsandshredsofmemoriesaswereconnectedwithit。ThemummyroomoftheBritishMuseumhadbeenoneofthechiefdelightsofherchildhood。Thatforbiddingpilewasthegoalofhertruantfancy，andshewassometimestakenthereforatreat，asotherchildrenaretakentothetheatre。ItwaslongsinceAlexanderhadthoughtofanyofthesethings，butnowtheycamebacktohimquitefresh，andhadasignificancetheydidnothavewhentheywerefirsttoldhiminhisrestlesstwenties。Soshewasstillintheoldneighborhood，nearBedfordSquare。

Thenewnumberprobablymeantincreasedprosperity。Hehopedso。Hewouldliketoknowthatshewassnuglysettled。Helookedathiswatch。Itwasaquarterpastten；shewouldnotbehomeforagoodtwohoursyet，andhemightaswellwalkoverandhavealookattheplace。Herememberedtheshortestway。

Itwasawarm，smokyevening，andtherewasagrimymoon。HewentthroughCoventGardentoOxfordStreet，andasheturnedintoMuseumStreethewalkedmoreslowly，smilingathisownnervousnessasheapproachedthesullengraymassattheend。

HehadnotbeeninsidetheMuseum，actually，sinceheandHildausedtomeetthere；

sometimestosetoutforgayadventuresatTwickenhamorRichmond，sometimestolingerabouttheplaceforawhileandtoponderbyLordElgin’smarblesuponthelastingnessofsomethings，or，inthemummyroom，upontheawfulbrevityofothers。SincethenBartleyhadalwaysthoughtoftheBritishMuseumastheultimaterepositoryofmortality，whereallthedeadthingsintheworldwereassembledtomakeone’shourofyouththemoreprecious。Onetrembledlestbeforehegotoutitmightsomehowescapehim，lesthemightdroptheglassfromover—eagernessandseeitshiveredonthestonefloorathisfeet。

Howonehidhisyouthunderhiscoatandhuggedit!Andhowgooditwastoturnone’sbackuponallthatvaultedcold，totakeHilda’sarmandhurryoutofthegreatdooranddownthestepsintothesunlightamongthepigeons——toknowthatthewarmandvitalthingwithinhimwasstillthereandhadnotbeensnatchedawaytoflushCaesar’sleancheekortofeedtheveinsofsomebeardedAssyrianking。Theyintheirdayhadcarriedtheflamingliquor，butto—daywashis!Sothesongusedtoruninhisheadthosesummermorningsadozenyearsago。Alexanderwalkedbytheplaceveryquietly，asifhewereafraidofwakingsomeone。

HecrossedBedfordSquareandfoundthenumberhewaslookingfor。Thehouse，acomfortable，well—keptplaceenough，wasdarkexceptforthefourfrontwindowsonthesecondfloor，wherealow，evenlightwasburningbehindthewhitemuslinsashcurtains。

Outsidetherewerewindowboxes，paintedwhiteandfullofflowers。BartleywasmakingathirdroundoftheSquarewhenheheardthefar—flunghoof—beatsofahansom—cabhorse，drivenrapidly。Helookedathiswatch，andwasastonishedtofindthatitwasafewminutesaftertwelve。HeturnedandwalkedbackalongtheironrailingasthecabcameuptoHilda’snumberandstopped。

Thehansommusthavebeenonethatsheemployedregularly，forshedidnotstoptopaythedriver。

Shesteppedoutquicklyandlightly。

Heheardhercheerful"Good—night，cabby，"

assheranupthestepsandopenedthedoorwithalatchkey。Inafewmomentsthelightsflaredupbrightlybehindthewhitecurtains，andashewalkedawayheheardawindowraised。Buthehadgonetoofartolookupwithoutturninground。Hewentbacktohishotel，feelingthathehadhadagoodevening，andhesleptwell。

ForthenextfewdaysAlexanderwasverybusy。

HetookadeskintheofficeofaScotchengineeringfirmonHenriettaStreet，andwasatworkalmostconstantly。

Heavoidedtheclubsandusuallydinedaloneathishotel。Oneafternoon，afterhehadtea，hestartedforawalkdowntheEmbankmenttowardWestminster，intendingtoendhisstrollatBedfordSquareandtoaskwhetherMissBurgoynewouldlethimtakehertothetheatre。Buthedidnotgosofar。WhenhereachedtheAbbey，heturnedbackandcrossedWestminsterBridgeandsatdowntowatchthetrailsofsmokebehindtheHousesofParliamentcatchfirewiththesunset。

Theslendertowerswerewashedbyarainofgoldenlightandlickedbylittleflickeringflames；SomersetHouseandthebleachedgraypinnaclesaboutWhitehallwerefloatedinaluminoushaze。Theyellowlightpouredthroughthetreesandtheleavesseemedtoburnwithsoftfires。Therewasasmellofacaciasintheaireverywhere，andthelaburnumsweredrippinggoldoverthewallsofthegardens。Itwasasweet，lonelykindofsummerevening。RememberingHildaassheusedtobe，wasdoubtlessmoresatisfactorythanseeingherasshemustbenow——and，afterall，Alexanderaskedhimself，whatwasitbuthisownyoungyearsthathewasremembering？

HecrossedbacktoWestminster，wentuptotheTemple，andsatdowntosmokeintheMiddleTemplegardens，listeningtothethinvoiceofthefountainandsmellingthespiceofthesycamoresthatcameoutheavilyinthedampeveningair。Hethought，ashesatthere，aboutagreatmanythings：abouthisownyouthandHilda’s；aboveall，hethoughtofhowgloriousithadbeen，andhowquicklyithadpassed；and，whenithadpassed，howlittleworthwhileanythingwas。

Noneofthethingshehadgainedintheleastcompensated。Inthelastsixyearshisreputationhadbecome，asthesayingis，popular。

FouryearsagohehadbeencalledtoJapantodeliver，attheEmperor’srequest，acourseoflecturesattheImperialUniversity，andhadinstitutedreformsthroughouttheislands，notonlyinthepracticeofbridge—buildingbutindrainageandroad—making。OnhisreturnhehadundertakenthebridgeatMoorlock，inCanada，themostimportantpieceofbridge—

buildinggoingonintheworld，——atest，indeed，ofhowfarthelatestpracticeinbridgestructurecouldbecarried。Itwasaspectacularundertakingbyreasonofitsverysize，andBartleyrealizedthat，whateverelsehemightdo，hewouldprobablyalwaysbeknownastheengineerwhodesignedthegreatMoorlockBridge，thelongestcantileverinexistence。

Yetitwastohimtheleastsatisfactorythinghehadeverdone。Hewascrampedineverywaybyaniggardlycommission，andwasusinglighterstructuralmaterialthanhethoughtproper。Hehadvexationsenough，too，withhisworkathome。HehadseveralbridgesunderwayintheUnitedStates，andtheywerealwaysbeingheldupbystrikesanddelaysresultingfromageneralindustrialunrest。

ThoughAlexanderoftentoldhimselfhehadneverputmoreintohisworkthanhehaddoneinthelastfewyears，hehadtoadmitthathehadnevergotsolittleoutofit。

Hewaspayingforsuccess，too，inthedemandsmadeonhistimebyboardsofcivicenterpriseandcommitteesofpublicwelfare。Theobligationsimposedbyhiswife’sfortuneandpositionweresometimesdistractingtoamanwhofollowedhisprofession，andhewasexpectedtobeinterestedinagreatmanyworthyendeavorsonheraccountaswellasonhisown。Hisexistencewasbecominganetworkofgreatandlittledetails。Hehadexpectedthatsuccesswouldbringhimfreedomandpower；butithadbroughtonlypowerthatwasinitselfanotherkindofrestraint。Hehadalwaysmeanttokeephispersonallibertyatallcosts，asoldMacKeller，hisfirstchief，haddone，andnot，likesomanyAmericanengineers，tobecomeapartofaprofessionalmovement，acautiousboardmember，aNestordepontibus。Hehappenedtobeengagedinworkofpublicutility，buthewasnotwillingtobecomewhatiscalledapublicman。Hefoundhimselflivingexactlythekindoflifehehaddeterminedtoescape。

What，heaskedhimself，didhewantwiththesegenialhonorsandsubstantialcomforts？

Hardshipsanddifficultieshehadcarriedlightly；overworkhadnotexhaustedhim；butthisdeadcalmofmiddlelifewhichconfrontedhim，——

ofthathewasafraid。Hewasnotreadyforit。

Itwaslikebeingburiedalive。Inhisyouthhewouldnothavebelievedsuchathingpossible。

Theonethinghehadreallywantedallhislifewastobefree；andtherewasstillsomethingunconqueredinhim，somethingbesidesthestrongwork—horsethathisprofessionhadmadeofhim。

Hefeltrichto—nightinthepossessionofthatunstultifiedsurvival；inthelightofhisexperience，itwasmorepreciousthanhonorsorachievement。Inallthosebusy，successfulyearstherehadbeennothingsogoodasthishourofwildlight—heartedness。Thisfeelingwastheonlyhappinessthatwasrealtohim，andsuchhoursweretheonlyonesinwhichhecouldfeelhisowncontinuousidentity——

feeltheboyhehadbeenintheroughdaysoftheoldWest，feeltheyouthwhohadworkedhiswayacrosstheoceanonacattle—shipandgonetostudyinPariswithoutadollarinhispocket。ThemanwhosatinhisofficesinBostonwasonlyapowerfulmachine。Undertheactivitiesofthatmachinethepersonwho，insuchmomentsasthis，hefelttobehimself，wasfadinganddying。Herememberedhow，whenhewasalittleboyandhisfathercalledhiminthemorning，heusedtoleapfromhisbedintothefullconsciousnessofhimself。ThatconsciousnesswasLifeitself。

Whatevertookitsplace，action，reflection，thepowerofconcentratedthought，wereonlyfunctionsofamechanismusefultosociety；

thingsthatcouldbeboughtinthemarket。

Therewasonlyonethingthathadanabsolutevalueforeachindividual，anditwasjustthatoriginalimpulse，thatinternalheat，thatfeelingofone’sselfinone’sownbreast。

WhenAlexanderwalkedbacktohishotel，theredandgreenlightswereblinkingalongthedocksonthefarthershore，andthesoftwhitestarswereshininginthewideskyabovetheriver。

Thenextnight，andthenext，Alexanderrepeatedthissamefoolishperformance。

ItwasalwaysMissBurgoynewhomhestartedouttofind，andhegotnofartherthantheTemplegardensandtheEmbankment。Itwasapleasantkindofloneliness。Toamanwhowassolittlegiventoreflection，whosedreamsalwaystooktheformofdefiniteideas，reachingintothefuture，therewasaseductiveexcitementinrenewingoldexperiencesinimagination。Hestartedoutuponthesewalkshalfguiltily，withacuriouslongingandexpectancywhichwerewhollygratifiedbysolitude。Solitude，butnotsolitariness；

forhewalkedshouldertoshoulderwithashadowycompanion——notlittleHildaBurgoyne，byanymeans，butsomeonevastlydearertohimthanshehadeverbeen——hisownyoungself，theyouthwhohadwaitedforhimuponthestepsoftheBritishMuseumthatnight，andwho，thoughhehadtriedtopasssoquietly，hadknownhimandcomedownandlinkedanarminhis。

ItwasnotuntillongafterwardthatAlexanderlearnedthatforhimthisyouthwasthemostdangerousofcompanions。

OneSundayevening，atLadyWalford’s，AlexanderdidatlastmeetHildaBurgoyne。

Mainhallhadtoldhimthatshewouldprobablybethere。Helookedaboutforherrathernervously，andfinallyfoundheratthefartherendofthelargedrawing—room，thecentreofacircleofmen，youngandold。Shewasapparentlytellingthemastory。Theywerealllaughingandbendingtowardher。WhenshesawAlexander，sherosequicklyandputoutherhand。Theothermendrewbackalittletolethimapproach。

"Mr。Alexander!Iamdelighted。HaveyoubeeninLondonlong？"

Bartleybowed，somewhatlaboriously，overherhand。"Longenoughtohaveseenyoumorethanonce。Howfineitallis!"

Shelaughedasifshewerepleased。"I’mgladyouthinkso。Ilikeit。Won’tyoujoinushere？"

"MissBurgoynewasjusttellingusaboutadonkey—boyshehadinGalwaylastsummer，"

SirHarryTowneexplainedasthecircleclosedupagain。LordWestmerestrokedhislongwhitemustachewithhisbloodlesshandandlookedatAlexanderblankly。

Hildawasagoodstory—teller。Shewassittingontheedgeofherchair，asifshehadalightedthereforamomentonly。

Herprimrosesatingownseemedlikeasoftsheathforherslender，supplefigure，anditsdelicatecolorsuitedherwhiteIrishskinandbrownhair。Whatevershewore，peoplefeltthecharmofheractive，girlishbodywithitsslenderhipsandquick，eagershoulders。

Alexanderheardlittleofthestory，buthewatchedHildaintently。Shemustcertainly，hereflected，bethirty，andhewashonestlydelightedtoseethattheyearshadtreatedhersoindulgently。Ifherfacehadchangedatall，itwasinaslighthardeningofthemouth——

stilleagerenoughtobeverydisconcertingattimes，hefelt——andinanaddedairofself—

possessionandself—reliance。Shecarriedherhead，too，alittlemoreresolutely。

Whenthestorywasfinished，MissBurgoyneturnedpointedlytoAlexander，andtheothermendriftedaway。